#Micah's Belly Is Beautiful

[kingsstew]

Summary: "With as much practiced ease as drawing a revolver from its holster, he quickly flipped the spoon over in his hand, using it to deliver a well-aimed smack to the grubby mitt trying to slither its way into the bowl.

Bullseye, and Micah jerked his hand back with a surprised yelp. 'Ow! The hell was that for?' he snapped, glaring at Arthur from beneath the fringe of his greasy blond hair.

'You already know what,' Arthur grumbled, threateningly brandishing his flour-covered spoon at the would-be pie crust bandit. 'Keep your nasty fingers outta my pie, you heathen.' When Micah just grinned and raised an eyebrow, Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes. 'Don't even say it.'"

In which Micah is being a pest, Arthur bribes him with dessert to get him out their kitchen, and Micah still somehow manages to scare the hell out of him while doing something as simple as berry picking.

Warnings: None

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences

Category: M/M

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption

Relationships: Micah Bell/Arthur Morgan

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 3,100

[miguel-owhora]

I'll bite for a kinktober request, maybe like... Micah cum inflation. He gets bred so fiercely and mind numbingly well that all he can do is lay there and take it. He barely realizes his womb/insides are swelling with seed. The top goes for round four, and he opens his legs as best he can

unfortunately this time i wasn't taking these types of reqs as compared to last year's, but this was too good of a prompt to ignore.

CW — sub!micah , trans!micah , cum inflation/bloating , excessive cum , dubious undertones , implied mind breaking , not beta read

fems n minors dnf, you will be blocked

There is nothing more pretty than the sight of Micah sprawled over your bed, as bare as the day he was born, and with a set of puffy lips between his legs. This wasn't the first time you've seen him naked, seen his legs spread, but it's the first time you've seen him like this.

Cum dribbles from his puffy lips, his hole loose. The coarse hair curling around his cunt is slick in some areas, more so downwards towards his entrance. His belly is swollen and taut, and not just from the beer store away in his gut, but from the excessive amount of cum you've been dumping into him.

It's fascinating, really, just how much you could cum in one session, enough to force Micah's belly to bloat. Your hands trace over his belly, fingers brushing over the hair that trailed over it, a shade darker from his blonde hair. You could feel the subtle markings of his stretchmarks, both from the rapid swelling and from gaining weight in other situations unrelated to your current activity.

Perhaps you're biased, but you think he's the prettiest thing you've ever seen, more so now when he looks like he's pregnant.

The thought of Micah Bell - one of the most infamous outlaw - pregnant, all fat and heavy with your brood, makes your cock hard. A bead of cum slips from the tip, but you don't notice, staring down at Micah like he's a slab of meat ready for you to devour.

And in a way, he is.

"Micah," You call out his name, shifting to get closer to him. He makes a low sound in response, and an uncharacteristic whine slips from his lips when your cockhead pokes his entrance. He sluggishly squirms in a weak attempt to get away, but all he does it make your cock poke at his cunt. It's cute, really, that he thinks he has a say in it.

Your hands grip his thighs, keep them nice and open, as you sink your cock back inside. Micah lets out a high-pitched sound, something that dances between being a whimper and a cry, as slurred and weak as ever.

You shush him as you bottom out, cock nicely fitting in his gummy cunt, feeling your cum spread along your length. Maybe it's just your imagination, or maybe the results of your hard work, but his walls feel puffier, slimier, weakly squeezing you.

You lean over him, hands gently cradling his belly, and peer down at him with curious eyes; dark in the low lighting of the room, making them glint like the eyes of a predator observing their prey.

There's a red flush spread across the scruffy outlaw's space, spreading over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, spreading to the very tips of his ears. His greasy hair spans around him like some golden crown, and the glossy looks in his dull eyes only helps to accentuate the almost ethereal look he has going on.

Of course, the look is only ruined - or perhaps made more beautiful - at the drool that dribbles down his swollen lip. His lips are parted, and for once not chapped, panting into the suffocating air. The air is heavy with the scent of both men, sweat, and sex.

When your hand gently grips his chin, Micah squirms in response, involuntarily squeezing around your cock. The action has you jerking your hips, and Micah whimpers.

"Little tease," You muttered, tilting his head so he's facing you. His pupil swallows up his iris, a pale circle of blue eclipsing the black color. You slowly rock your hips, grinding deeper into his cunt, and Micah practically whimpers, lightly trembling.

"You're so pretty, Micah, such a pretty thing, all for me, aren't you?" You can't help but coo, voice dancing between being mocking and genuine, one of your favorite past times. You slowly rock your hips, each shallow thrust of your cock punching the cum cooped up in him, and Micah groans.

Your hand drops back to his swollen belly, taut with your cum, and you gently press down. Micah whimpers, and you lean down to kiss him as you give a particularly harsh snap of your hips. It has him gasping, and your slimy tongue slips inside, claiming his mouth, just as you're about to claim him for the fourth time that night.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

micah's beautiful belly

You can’t just come into my house, ask for micah belly, and then expect me to NOT go crazy and draw that man getting his belly fat grasped.

[nutluvs]

Chubby s/o and Charles is EATING ME ALIVE.

i cannot hold back any longer sorry arthur fans ur gonna have to wait for late nights and little talks. i need this too tw for some body image issues + insecurity, mentions of micah being a stupid bully. but charles fixes everything 🤍

you're perfect - charles smith x chubby fem!reader - fluff 🪻

gazing in the mirror, your eyes drifted over yourself and you frowned deeply, feeling your eyes swim with tears. "goddamn it.." you huff out, feeling over your love handles and then your belly, tracing your stretch marks. you murmur, "maybe micah is right, all i am is a useless pig." you and charles had decided to get out of the camp for a day or two, as things had started to drift into shit after hosea's death. you figured it was best for you both to get into a better headspace, but.. you had struggled with that due to lingering negative thoughts. the heavy knock at the door had you knowing quickly that it was charles, "princess, are you okay? you've been in there for about an hour." he spoke gently, a little, gentle thud on the door indicating he leaned his head against it. you quickly began to adjust your clothing, shifting your skirts and tucking your blouse back in. "i'm okay!" you called out a lie, your voice breaking a little bit, which made his eyebrows knit together. "are you sure? you seem... upset? your voice just cracked." "oh, charles.. i hate how you can just know." you mumbled, giving up on trying to fix yourself and slumping down against the wall beside the mirror. "you can come in." your permission had him opening the door immediately. once he saw how you sat beside the mirror, he sighed and with heavy steps made an approach. he sat down in front of you, his eyes soft as they quickly shifted to meet your teary ones. "look at me," charles reached over and cradled your face in his big hands, "why do you think you're ugly?" he asks, tone holding demand, although none of the scary sort. all he wanted was to know. "micah keeps sayin' so, callin' me a pig and that all i do is sit 'round doin' nothin'." a sniffle cuts your sentence off, as you raise a quivering hand to wipe away your tears, "and i'm startin' to believe him." you admitted, leaning into his touch as his thumbs grazed over your tear-stained, rosy cheeks. "sweetheart—how can you believe anything that idiot spews? he's like a fountain of lies." he hums gently, bringing you close to touch his forehead to yours. you locked gazes, and you felt a little more secure already. he was your safe person. you were always free to run to him and leap into his arms, you knew, he would drop anything for you to make you feel better. the pause between the two of you felt like it continued infinitely, but you knew he was only collecting his words. eventually, he did speak, and they were reassuring words, "all he is.. is vindictive, and a liar. you aren't ugly, you aren't a pig, you aren't useless. you're so, so beautiful—it kills me to see you breaking yourself down by agreeing with micah, to see you hating your gorgeous body because of something stupid he said." "you do so much for everyone in this gang, and you mean it with a genuine heart. there's really not one person that dislikes you, maybe aside from micah... but he only dislikes you because you're the better person. he could only dream of being as good as you." charles went on, his expression promising as he spoke, but you couldn't help but

ask, "y'mean it?" his eyebrows knitted together, and you thought he was upset before watching as he grinned while pressing a light kiss to your jaw, "do i sound like i'm joking?" he hummed, and you began to giggle. "i'm not joking, i'm being as serious as anyone can be. you deserve the world, princess. you're so beautiful. you're perfect." you blushed when he said such things, even a little more when he put his strong arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug, the warmth radiating from his stiff body as you sat on his lap. "i love you," charles mumbled as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, "and i mean it. you know that, and you should always know that. don't doubt yourself." he said against your skin. "i'll try not to," you stated, and when he looked at you expectantly, you sighed with a wide smile, "..promise." you leaned into him again, feeling his hands drift up your sides and onto your shoulder blades, tracing little patterns over your clothed back. "thank you for promising. i feel good, knowing you're going to start feeling better about yourself," charles raised his head, and touched the tip of his nose to yours. you could see the contentment in both his eyes and his smile. "your happiness is all that matters to me. i like seeing that pretty smile of yours."

“oh, quiet, you.”

I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT, I'M SO TIRED. i've had this in my drafts too long (like idk 2 days) and i thought i should finish it. so i did. sorry if it's choppy, i might?? rewrite it??? but i'm for sure that i'll make more charles x chubby reader when i have more motivation though :) thanks for reading! 🪻

[azures-bazar]

Gang members (Arthur, Sadie, Charles and Mary Beth) reacting to their fem S/O who is Turkish. How they react to her language, culture, beautiful olive skin and brown curly hair, golden honey eyes and teaching them about her culture (food, music, arts, belly dance, etc) and she shares her culture and language with the rest of the gang aswell! Also how they would defend her if anyone was ever racist towards her! 🥹❤️✨🥰

Headcanon - Turkish Beauty - Female!Reader

Hey there sweetie ! Thank you again for your request ! + Javier ! 💖

I'm sooooo sorry if it took me so long ! As you know, my life now mostly consists in my job lol (and in the family I'm currently building).

This headcanon was hard to write since I know very little about Turkish Culture in general. At least I tried, any corrections are welcomed !

I tried making it as accurate as possible (but ended up creating a rather weird mixture between Turkey and Ottoman Empire, since it's supposed to be 1899 lol). If anything is offensive towards the Turkish culture, just let me know and I'll either edit my mistakes or completely delete the headcanon !

Request : Female!Reader

Characters : Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler, Charles Smith, Mary-Beth Gaskill + Javier Escuella

Relationship : Romantic, settled

Lines : About 9 per character

A/N : The Reader is Agnostic !

Arthur Morgan : 

Let’s be honest : Arthur doesn’t know much about what is outside America (and perhaps Tahiti). When you tell them you’re Turkish, he is a little confused. "Wait up, ain’t Turkey a large bird ?" is the very first genuine question he asks when you talk about your country. After you explain him a few basics, he profusely apologises for his mistake, telling you his just a "dumb cowpoke", which he isn’t. He’s just clumsy.

You wear a nazar as a necklace. Arthur is curious, often asking you about the meaning of this beautiful eye-shaped pendant, staring at its dark blue, white, light blue and black colours. When you explain its use, Arthur is even more curious, asking you if he can have one for himself. "Maybe a nazar can be a lucky charm for me too, so the Pinkertons won’t ever find us !". 

On some occasions, you can be heard talking to yourself in Turkish, either when you think out loud or when you’re a little pissed with folks like Micah or Bill. Arthur doesn’t show it, but he’s thrilled when he hears you talk in Turkish, finding it beautiful. As he often says, he can barely speak English, but he still tries his best to learn a few words while listening to you !

Believe it or not, but Arthur knows how to count up to ten in Turkish. He made this surprise to you while the two of you were in his tent after a long day on guard duty. "Hey, listen to that, bir, iki, üç, dört…". You were so amazed by it, listening to his raspy voice and heavy Southern accent when he tried his best not to mess up ! When you asked him how he learnt how to count in Turkish, he just told you he has his own "sources".

Yes, he indeed went through your belongings to snatch a book written in Turkish. Still, how he managed to translate Turkish words into English is an absolute mystery even Arthur himself can’t really explain. He isn’t as dumb as he believes he is, him trying his best to learn a few words in your language is a proof of his hidden intelligence. 

At some point, you tried your best teaching Arthur to say a few basic sentences, such as "benim adım Arthur". Your favourite Van der Linde boy struggled a lot, but was indeed thrilled to make you even a little happy. Arthur is not as fast as John when it comes to learn things, but he is definitely devoted to whatever he does. And your proud gaze is absolutely worth any single grammar mistake (which might also be heard as a potential ancient invocation due to his mispronunciation) he would make. 

In case you’re being harassed by anyone, Arthur is very quick to jump in and defend you from all these folks causing you harm. Since it’s the United States in 1899, many folks are just blatantly racist. If you’re a few feet away from him, he will proceed walking towards you and wrap his arm around your shoulders. "Get away from my girl, I doubt ya wanna have a hole in your head, partner." is what he often says to calm things down. If it doesn’t, the situation ends up in a fist fight which often results in the two of you having to run away because Arthur "unexpectedly broke someone’s skull". 

Arthur is absolutely in love with your looks. Each time the sun shines on your face while you’re both around camp, he will proceed caressing your olive skin. And when your golden eyes meet his, he nearly faints due to your exquisite beauty. Your eye color is so unique that he can’t avoid blushing a little whenever you’re looking at him. A few pages of his journal are dedicated to you, as well as some drawings. He loves describing your golden eyes in his journal, comparing them to the sun. You are the light of his life, literally speaking. 

Each night, Arthur runs his fingers through your thick brown curls, slightly brushing them away from your beautiful face. You’re one of the most beautiful women he had the opportunity to meet, and your natural beauty made him fall in love with you on the day Dutch had brought you to camp. But don’t worry ! You’re so beautiful that he falls in love with you every day, even if he’s too proud to say it.

Sadie Adler : 

For some reason, Sadie somewhat knows more about the world’s geography than the rest of the gang. She can’t forcibly place countries on a map, wherever they are republics, kingdoms or empires, but can actually tell that there is a huge continent across the Atlantic Ocean. So, when you tell her you’re from beyond the ocean, Sadie is indeed quite curious ! 

Sadie loves listening to you when you’re talking about your culture. She just sits there with starry eyes, gazing at you whenever you talk about its traditions. She is indeed fascinated by it, it feels so mystical compared with the life the Van der Linde gang is currently living. Having you tell stories about your country or about your culture and beliefs is certainly much better than Dutch’s speeches about freedom and MONEY.

She is pretty much your personal bodyguard whenever you’re alone. She knows you know how to fight, but she just loves you so much… and even ends up wanting to know more about Turkish fighting techniques. "How do folks fight in your country ? Like us ? Or do they still use swords ?". Her question seems pretty innocent for a woman who went through so much, but you don’t mind. 

You eventually end up telling Sadie about the Ottoman Slap, which is one of the Ottoman martial arts. "I wanna try it, I wanna try it !" is the very first thing an excited Sadie tells you when you explain her that it implies using her hands. You don’t even have time to explain anything to her that she is already on her way to give Micah an absolutely massive slap.

Sadie loves being around you when you do to town, and is quite protective towards you for a variety of reasons she can’t even explain. So, when she hears a few folks criticise your looks, your skin or your clothes, if not even your origins, she is quick to get into a violent fight and, quite often, wins it. Sadie even tries doing the exact same Ottoman Slap you told her about, but is likely to take out her guns to finish a fight if the situation goes worse. 

You two have fun altering Mr. Pearson’s stew with a few ingredients which match the Turkish recipes you have collected in one of your books upon traveling to the United States. Sadie loves the Tavok Sote, which is a Turkish chicken stew, and is even willing to chop vegetables for you, something she wouldn’t have done for anyone else. She just wants to spend all her free time with you, even if, as she says… she "ain’t gonna chop vegetables for a living". 

Sometimes, when she is on guard duty, Sadie will just slightly turn her head and look at your for a few seconds, analysing your beauty. Your black hair is often beautifully tied in a braid, your nazar bracelet hangs on your wrist, your colourful dresses make you look divine. She loves you, and if you pass by her while she is on guard duty, she will gently stroke your chin. "Here’s my beautiful balım." she would say before dropping a kiss on your lips.

At some point, after you told Sadie about belly dance, she is excited to learn it from you ! The very first time she tries it, she laughs as the feeling it gives her. She is not used to it, but absolutely loves it ! You like seeing her so happy to try new things, and can’t deny you did not expect her to enjoy belly-dancing this much ! She isn’t really good yet, but she really tries her best to impress you ! 

Sadie tries really, REALLY hard to learn a few words in Turkish. She already knows how to say some sweet words, like "balım" or "güzelim", and… a little set of swearwords. In fact, whenever you swear in Turkish, you can hear Sadie repeat the word after you, even if you told her you would rather want her not to say any swearwords in a foreign language. 

Charles Smith : 

Charles is well aware about the countries surrounding the United States, such as Mexico and Canada, and knows a little about Europe due to him listening to Herr Strauss. He is very respectful towards you and asks a few questions he repeated to himself a few times. Charles doesn’t talk much, and each word he says are filled with a wisdom a very few 28 year olds have. Needless to say that, compared with John who is just two years younger and eager to ask foolish questions, Charles just thinks twice before saying anything.

Charles is, again, the quiet type, except when he is drunk or around Javier and Arthur at the saloon. And he is even more quiet whenever you’re talking about your culture by the fire. He just gazes at you with starry eyes, interested and fascinated by your country's customs and traditions. Charles doesn’t interrupt you, he doesn’t want to spoil your stories with his questions. He will have all the time he needs to ask them after you will finish. 

If he is on guard duty with you, there is a huge chance that Charles will likely end up asking you some details about your country. "What do Turkish people eat ? How do they fight ? How do they talk to each other ?". He is curious, and just wants to be around you, and only around you, to ask his questions. Even if he only answers with a soft smile whenever you answer him, he is so thrilled to learn new things. 

The simple presence of Charles near you is quick to make people shut their mouths whenever they want to insult you. Charles, being himself a man of colour, as the son of a Native American woman and an African American man, knows what it feels like to be downgraded due to the colour of his skin, especially in 1899. If he sees anyone offend you, he will just stand before you and calmly tell people of. "Please, leave this lady alone.". If it doesn’t work, after a few good punches, he will take you to someplace safe, apologising for all the mess he is not even the responsible of. 

When he has the opportunity to rest, which is often rare since he is one of Dutch’s strongest men, Charles just enjoys gazing at you. He loves the way you look, the way your beautiful hair flows around you whenever you make even a subtle movement. But what Charles loves the most about you is your voice, and how beautiful it sounds whenever you speak to yourself in Turkish. 

Charles doesn’t speak much, but he secretly mumbles each word you say in Turkish, and sometimes asks you what you just said means. He then proceeds repeating the same word once again. "Did I say it right ?" is the question he asks you the most whenever he tries talking to you in Turkish. He does his best, and it's a beautiful thing to watch. His smile in the end is worth it ! 

Like many folks, Charles is not indifferent to your golden eyes. Whenever you’re close to him, even if it’s already clear that the two of you are in a very stable relationship, his heart beats faster and his eyes twitch a little, he even blushes and stutters at times ! You, Y/N, are the only person who can make Charles Smith loose his words whenever he is around you ! Charles even commented your eyes more than once. "So your parents put all the gold of the world in these eyes of yours.". That’s quite a compliment ! 

You managed to bring up a Hookah with you, and a lot of gang members often ask you if they can use it. Charles was very curious to try it at first, especially knowing that you can sometimes combine the effects of tobacco with other plants. You made him try a mixture of regular tobacco with vanilla flowers, and Charles surprisingly loved it. "Damn. I like it. I like it !". It was probably the very first time you saw Charles so happy ! 

Charles loves laying next to you whenever people are already asleep or far enough from him, his head either on your thigh or on your shoulder. He knows that you will naturally start singing. You can’t resist singing a few beautiful Turkish songs you know, especially with Charles being so close to you. "It’s beautiful, breathtaking." he often tells you between two songs. 

Mary-Beth Gaskill : 

Mary-Beth is quite aware of where Turkey is located, having red so many books about everything, and not only romance books as Ms. Grimshaw often says. She is thrilled to meet anyone who is not from the United States or from America in general, apart from Herr Strauss, indeed. But a woman like you is more interesting than an old loanshark ! 

You tried making a lentil soup based on what Mr. Pearson had in stock, and it made Miss Gaskill happy. "It’s peculiar and so different from Pearson’s stew ! How did you manage to do it ?" she asked. Mary-Beth barely knows how to cook, but is interested by your Turkish cookbook you brought with you upon being inducted into the gang. 

Sometimes, Mary-Beth daydreams while listening to your stories about your country. She just pictures so many people wearing bright colours, women doing bellydances while men are trained to fight. Mary-Beth is quite a romantic and re-interprets your stories inside her head, but genuinely likes asking questions about your culture. "What does a Turkish marriage look like ?". You try your best to answer, making Mary-Beth’s eyes get filled with stars. 

When the two of you are in town, you often get a side-look from passerby because of your origins. Mary-Beth is eager to fight for you, quickly taking your defence if someone tells you something inappropriate. Even if she knows how to fight, the two of you most likely end up in trouble if many folks try attacking you. But Mary-Beth is courageous enough to defend you, telling people off and throwing a few more or less impactful punches if needed. You two can’t even count the number of times you ended up at the Sheriff’s Office after a fight, having Dutch, Hosea or Arthur bring you back to camp. But a good fight was worth saving your honour. 

Even if you told her about henna and its use on very specific occasions, Mary-Beth is eager to try some on herself, on Tilly or on Karen, and even on Arthur who just grumbles when he sees her drawing figures on his wrists when he’s around camp. She doesn’t care about the fact that henna figures she made on herself is a temporary tattoo, she just loves it so much and is very skilled !

Mary-Beth loves reading, and it’s no secret for anyone. So when she genuinely asks you if she can borrow one of your books and read some pages out loud, you can’t say no. You just love listening to her when she tries her best to read some Turkish words properly with her sweet voice and adorable accent, and she loves the way you look at her and how proud you are whenever she tries either reading something out loud, or talking in your language. 

She likes asking you if she can borrow your dresses. Her favourite is a traditional Turkish gown you brought from your country, white and red coloured, with a matching headscarf. Mary-Beth loves it and often likes putting it on whenever she knows you will be around camp. She respectfully wears it and twirls around with it, thrilled to wear something as beautiful as a traditional Turkish gown. She sometimes digs into your jewerly, but you don't mind much.

When you told Mary-Beth about belly dancing, she was eager to give it a try ! Despite she did not know much about this dance or about the moves, looking a little uncomfortable while trying her best, she just gave you a rather nice performance, which was both funny and adorable. You fell for her as much as she fell for you. Between two moves, she even got to stroke your olive skin while blushing, which made you love her even more than ever !

She loves brushing your hair. It’s so thick and beautiful, she loves running her fingers through it, or combing it to create the most perfect hairstyles which could fit you on a daily basis. Mary-Beth loves you enough to compliment you anytime she tries something new on you. After all, you’re so beautiful ! So, mesmerising ! She keeps reminding this to you almost three or for times a day ! And this even in bed…

Javier Escuella : 

Javier is definitely smart enough to say that Turkey is a part of the Ottoman Empire as of 1899. He is genuinely curious about everything, and loves asking you so many questions that you sometimes end up struggling to find a correct answer. "What are your people doing when they’re angry ? How tall is the Ottoman Empire ? Are all Turkish women as beautiful as you are ? What music do they play ? Do they believe in god ?". Many questions, too many. 

You don’t know how he managed to do this, but Javier has, very soon after you were inducted into the gang, tried talking to you in Turkish. Since he already speaks English and Spanish, he is willing to learn another language, just for you ! Javier tries his best, he really does. He even repeats the words after you whenever you correct him, and often compliments your language. "Ah, Turkish language is quite beautiful, mi amor ! Hard, but wonderful !". 

Privately, between two trees, while the rest of the gang was having fun by the fire, you showed Javier how you belly danced. He is absolutely not familiar to it, but spends his time gazing at your moves, at the way you shake your hips, the way you twirl at times. He loves it, and even ends up asking you if men can try doing it too ! He is genuinely interested, which is a pleasure to see ! 

Javier is often lost into his deepest thoughts when looking at you. Your golden eyes make him loose every word, even his most romantic ballads can’t express how smitten he is to you. He often tried singing about it, playing his guitar by the campfire, but nothing can describe the "hermosa chica de ojos dorados." that crossed his and the rest of the gang’s path. 

Whenever you’re out, Javier doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second. Sometimes the two of you get side-looks from people seeing two non-white people just enjoying their day in 1899. Javier doesn’t usually jump into fights and tries his best to tell people off. However, sometimes, random folks don’t cooperate, and it ends up in a brutal fistfight. "You won’t ever insult my girl again, puto !" Javier usually says when his opponent is either unconscious, or dead. He won’t let anyone insult you. Never ! 

When you joined the gang, you had a few belongings coming from your country, among which a few musical instruments such as an Oud, a Kaval and a Sipsi. Javier taught himself to use the Oud, pretty proud of himself whenever a nice melody was coming out of it. "It’s as easy as playing a guitar, but the sound is so beautiful !" he always says whenever he plays it… when you don’t play it yourself. 

Sometimes, when you’re the one playing some Oud, you like singing a few ballads from your country. Javier loves listening to you, often getting distracted if he is on guard duty. Your voice is so beautiful, so mesmerising ! Enough for him to loose the track of time whenever he listens to you. He usually doesn't understand your songs, but genuinely loves them ! 

At some point, only to make you a rather nice surprise after you went back from a robbery with Dutch and Micah, Javier decided to sing a personal song just for you, playing the Oud, while Uncle played the Sipsi, and Lenny used a barrel as a drum to add some rhythm. Javier just wanted to make you happy, especially after a robbery with your absolute friend Micah Bell. "Look ! Look Y/N !" he had told you, so excited. The song was in Spanish, played with two Turkish instruments and a barrel as a drum, but it was awesome ! 

Sometimes, late at night, when the two of you are nearly asleep, Javier usually tries his best to mumble you some sweet words in Turkish, running his hand through your black curls while gazing at you with a loving smile. He just loves making you happy, and knows how excited you are whenever he tries speaking your language. "Seni seviyorum, mi chiquita.". A rather peculiar mixture between Spanish and Turkish, but very sweet !

[thy-lover]

My New Wattpad Book is Out!!

"THE SUN WILL RISE AGAIN"

Pair - Arthur Morgan x Micah Bell x Charles Smith

(GIF by woman-with-no-name)

SUMMARY - Being a Bell it's in Micah's blood to mame and murder to take what he wants. When Micah joins The Van Der Linde gang he lives by the rules Micah Bell Senior sets for him, Take what you need, Take what you want.

When Micah Bell is chosen to pay for his sins, and stuck between Greed and Morality. Their just so happens to be someone who wants to show Micah that blancing his demons with his angels ain't exactly a bad thing.

Note: In this Fic Micah Bell struggles with being Gay, so expect smut to come later.

(This is a Gay Fic, if you're not comfortable don't read!!!! No form of Homophobia is tolerated here nor there. If you do spread hate I will IMMEDIATELY BLOCK YOU! Also, we are body positive here. I am sick and tired of seeing people hating Micah's body. I UNDERSTAND Micah is the "Bad Guy" I know, but that gives you NO RIGHT to be downright rude about his body. To the folk that do hate on Micah for the way, his body looks let's understand one thing. Do you have any idea how bad you make men who look the way Micah does feel when you say "Micah looks ugly" or "look at his belly" please. This is not a space for hate. BODY POSITIVITY NO. MATTER. WHAT. To those of you that have a negative outlook on your body, listen here, you are beautiful. Stop comparing yourself to what others think. Stop trying to make others accept you, you can't please everyone but you can please yourself. Stop forcing yourself to look like other people. You are beautiful no matter what others say.)

Warnings-

Blood & Gore(Murder, Suicidal thoughts and Actions)

-Profanity/Foul Launguage

-Nudity & Sex/Smut

-Depictions of Abuse(Parental and Emotional)

-Alcohol and Drugs

-Period-Typical Homophobia & Sexism

-Period-Typical Racial Slurs

[storiesaremylife]

Just a little something from the series I'm working on because brainrot

"What do you even know about me?" Cheyenne rounded on him, causing him to flinch back. Normally she'd feel bad, but she wasn't feeling much of anything right now. Or, more, she was feeling so much she couldn't identify it all. All she knew was it hurt, a burning pain in her belly that needed to find a new home. "What even am I to you? Some kind of charity case?"

    "What?" Aiden's blue eyes widened and he held up his hands. "No of course not. How could you think that?"

    "How could I not?" She shot back. "Look at me! Some poor little human you have to take care of."

    "That's not--"

    "You couldn't even begin to understand me! You, you live in this huge house in the East End with all your rich friends."

     "It's not exactly a h--"

     "You have everything, Aiden! You're beautiful and smart and you have a loving family and so many friends. You're good at everything! You have freaking superpowers, my God!"

     "I don't have superpowers," Aiden argued, which was absolutely the wrong thing to say. That lump inside her grew hotter and she began ticking things off on her fingers.

     "Super speed. Super strength. Magic tattoos. Need I go on?" He opened his mouth again but she was on a roll. "What even am I compared to that? How dare you sit in judgement of my family? You... just some rich boy playing games."

     Aiden flinched as though she had hit him. She supposed she may as well have. "Anna, you know that's not true. I was just--"

     "And another thing! My name is Cheyenne. Not Anna. You know that. You don't even respect me enough to call me by my name!"

    "That's not fair!" Aiden was finally raising his voice. Good, Cheyenne thought. Get mad at me. Make me feel something. "You know damn well I only give nicknames to people I care about!"

    "You don't call Micah by any nickname. But he's one of you so maybe--"

    "Micah asked me not to, and besides that that's not the point." He strode forward-- his legs were so long it only took him two steps to cross the room to her; it was so unfair that someone younger than her who hadn't even hit his growth spurt yet was still so much taller than her-- and gripped her shoulders. "Anna... Cheyenne... You're not some kind of joke to me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about your mom when I dont even know the whole story. I just... you don't deserve to have someone talk to you like that. It's not fair."

    Cheyenne couldn't get air to her lungs. Aiden held her gaze, and she was trapped in the depths of his eyes. They were such a strange color, practically indigo and yet deeper, more saturated. She could get lost in those eyes for days. She wanted to pull back, put distance between her and the hitching breaths that brought his chest so close to hers. Breathing his air like this, looking at that face that looked as though it had been carved specifically for her... she couldn't stand it. But he wouldn't release her shoulders.

    "I'm not playing games with you," he said, voice quiet but intense. "I don't see you as some kind of charity case, or a hapless Mundane, or anything like that. I see someone who is amazing and smart and strong, and who deserves to have a mother who recognizes that."

[wildlcck]

━━━🥀━━━

❛ that's him, all right. always the gen'leman an' charmer. ❜ following close beside them, warm, fond laughter bursting from her. pride and adoration swelling in her chest, twisting her stomach and reminding her of her heart. that she's still got one, that it's in there still. still beating fit to burst out her damn chest ❛ hoo-wee. look at that! look at you! you got 'im walkin' and listenin'- all by yerself! not bad for a first timer. not bad at all. seems you're a natural. natural rider. natural beauty... ❜ patting her forearm encouragingly with a grin, before dropping her gaze and taking hold of the reins near bob's face (should he see fit to jet all of a sudden). still smiling some. ❛ now, them reins we was talkin' about. if yer plannin' on goin' left, squeeze that left rein some- not like yer wringin' micah or some other fool's neck. an' nudge him with yer right leg. you're goin' right, you're doin' the same, but squeezin' the right rein and givin' 'im a push with your left. you want him t' stop, pull the reins to yer belly, not too hard or fast. so we don't hurt this pretty boy's pretty teeth. an' you tell him stop, bob. ❜ gaze taking in the landscape stretching out before them- wide and open, flat and grassy- a glint in her eye. ❛ how'd you like to go a little faster, huh? maybe get 'im trottin' for ya? ❜

━━━🥀━━━

❛ like yer holdin' a pretty little birdie in yer hands. you don't want it to fly off an' leave ya. but, you don't wanna crush it, neither. not too hard... not too fast. just like that. glad t' see yer payin' attention, missy. ❜ she's breathing this, everything and her, in. this closeness. with the sky all blue and the breeze all cooling (not that this burning under her skin's got a damn thing to do with the weather). the thought of it'll keep her a little warmer at night, if not the reality. she can hold her it in her head and heart, if not her hands and arms. ❛ oh, he knows more than he likes t' let on. but, sometimes, he needs a little help knowin' where he's goin'. like most of us, i s'pose. that's where you an' the reins are gon' come in handy. but, let's get 'im movin' and walkin' for us, first. if you scooch back some for me, this is where i get off- least, for now. you're in the driver's seat now, lady. ❜ dismounting steady as she can, giving her knee a pat with a smile. ❛ but, i'm gonna be right here, by yer side. ain't goin' nowhere. get them pretty shoes in the stirrups an' keep yer hands on the reins, just like i showed ya. good girl. now, i want you to give 'im a big ol' squeeze with yer legs for me. right... here. ❜ tapping and taking hold of molly's inner leg carefully in her hands, then pushing it against the stallion's cinch, light and firm, to demonstrate. ❛ that's gon' let him know we're walkin', not sleepwalkin'. don't worry 'bout hurtin' him or nothin'- he's a big boy. all muscle. he don't act it, but he's tough. after that, when you're ready, you're gon' tell him walk, bob. remember, you ain't askin' him, yer tellin' him. 'cause bob here's got a bad case a' hearin' what he wants to. ❜

[twistedcharismaaa]

Menace

Summary: A supernatural journey starring Masego (Micah Davis) and Tanerélle (Velvet).

Author’s Note: Hi guyssss! I hope you all are well as always! I’m back with something new! I’m excited and nervous! I sorta kinda played around with the tag list! I wasn’t quite sure who to tag since this is a new vibe! But anyways let me stop rambling! I hope that you guys will enjoy this new story! It was so much fun to write! I love you guyssss so much and please leave a comment for ya girl! You know I live for the commentary!!!!

Thunder crackling throughout the skies, lightning illuminating the earth, levitating clouds now hanging lowly, and the moon was in full bloom. On a night like this, there was no telling what she was going to get into. Her wicked teeth protruded from her mouth, the night pulsated through her veins, and her heartbeat grew more rapidly with each minute. The world was her oyster and she was ready to feast. Within seconds, she was freefalling from the highest building in the city completely reveling in the thrill of it all. Her black leather coat flailing in the wind, the chill of the night pressing against her skin, and the sound of the busy streets gradually becoming louder. She never felt more alive. Using her heightened agility, with an evergrowing grin, she flipped her body closer to the side of the building using her claws to slow her speed as she approached the sidewalk. Now landing feet first, she brushed her hair out of her face, regained her composure, and stood upright. She journeyed deeper into the night, bumping and shoving into unfamiliar faces until she arrived at her destination. 

“The half-lit neon-colored sign just didn’t do the club justice,” she thought to herself.

You could feel the club roaring and raging just from standing outside the door. The cadence just pulling you in as if it’s promising you something - the mystery…the adventure. 

“Why the fuck not?” she thought.

She pressed her palm against the door and found herself standing in front of brawned gentlemen causally guarding the entrance.

“Password?” he questioned, with furrowed brows. 

Amused, she quietly chuckled to herself. Gradually she approached the bodyguard and stood before him boldly. She pulled her right hand out of the pocket of her coat and flexed her pointer finger. She ran her finger along his jawline menacingly. As her finger traveled his jawline, it shifted into something more animalistic.

“Will an exception be made tonight?” she questioned, silently studying his eyes.

He swallowed hard before answering. “Yes ma’am, enjoy,” he breathed.

“Thank you,” she replied, with much satisfaction. 

Sashaying herself into the ambiance of it all, her face lit up like a child with excitement. Her eyes silently dancing around the crowded room. It was filled with drunken laughter, lust-driven bodies, blinding strobe lights, and loud music. 

“Beautiful,” she breathed. 

Roaming deeper into the crowd like a moth to a flame, she followed the sweetest aroma. It penetrated the air deeply. Whoever it was, she had to have them. Her throat was aching with need and her belly was burdened with hunger.

“I’m going to find you,” she whispered.

She voyaged through the sea of bodies with ease, quietly hunting her prey. With each step that she took, the scent grew stronger. She could almost taste it on her tongue.

Ah, there it was. That sweet, rich aroma standing right in front of her. He was sipping on his elevation of choice in the shadowy corners of the club. He was pretty - eye candy if you will. His white teeth were dressed in diamonds, his locks were well maintained, and he was such a beautiful buttery brown. 

With slow movements, she approached him with flirtatious eyes. She was luring him in and needless to say, it was working. Now face to face with him, she placed her right hand on her hip as she looked him up and down. 

“What you sipping on?” she quizzed.

“Why? You want some?” he chuckled, as his eyes traveled her physique.

“Matter of fact, I do,” she replied, before snatching his drink out of his hand.

“I’d rather be sipping on you,” he responded, as he inched closer to her.

“The irony,” she thought.

“Is that so?” she asked, with a raised brow.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, fearlessly.

“Hmph,” she hummed as if she was impressed.

She sniffed his drink and then tossed it to the side.

“Aye shawt-” the man yelled.

“Yeah, Yeah. That’s right, I love a screamer. It makes the blood taste better,” she whispered, in his ear as she palmed the back of his neck. 

Before the gentleman could speak again, her fangs were already in too deep. His warm blood gilding down her throat like silk. She moaned against his skin as she savagely drained him dry. Within seconds, he became lifeless and collapsed before her. Blood was dripping from her lips to her chin, and down her neck, and yet she was still insatiable. Instantly and carelessly, she was rampaging through the crowd like a beast devouring everything in sight until she felt a pain she never felt before. She shrieked in agony and placed her hands on her head. She stumbled backward and tripped over a dead body. Now on the floor and helpless, she searched for the source of her torment.

Suddenly, a tall man appeared before her dressed in a dapper blue suit. He crouched down in front of her and casually rested his forearms on his knees. 

“Friend or foe?” he questioned, with a cunning smile resting on his lips.

Still in excruciating pain, she was unable to speak. 

Now rising to his feet, the stranger slid his hands into his pockets and spoke again. 

“You sneak into my club. You threaten my bodyguards. You’re killing my customers. You can see how I can take that as offense right? So, I must know, friend or foe?” 

He snapped his fingers and suddenly the pain was gone.

“I prefer menace,” she answered with a heavy breath.

“Hm,” he paused. “Menace? I could use one of those,” he answered, with much delight. And with the second snap of his finger, she was knocked unconscious. 

—----

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5

@ghostfacekill-monger @nelleana @l-auteuse @sheabuttahwrites @chaneajoyyy @brwn-recluse @blackburnbook @neeville e @savagescorpion @miyahmaraj @soulfuljas s @just-peachee @xxariaxxaxx​ @teardropzih @19jammmy @mooon-berry @highasfantasy @theycallmechanty @isisafrofairy @errin261 @samosasandchutney @themajesticnigerian @theboldlady @cocogodess15 @asiasblackworld727 @geriixox @squigglyemotions @theconsciousrebel

[misscaptainamericana]

delicate - chris evans x plussize!reader

wordcount : 1678

You and Chris had known each other for most of your lives. You had met Scott in elementary school and quickly became a part of the Evans gang. Chris certainly traveled the most for his work, but it was nice to have him filming in Massachusetts. With him being so close for so many upcoming projects, he could hang out with the group again. He was always your favorite to hang out with as you liked the same movies, music, and games. He picked you up a little after five-thirty wanting to be the safe designated driver for you.

Arriving at the Color-Me-Mine you were surprised to see Scott amongst your group of friends already there picking out things to paint.

You quickly ran up and hugged Scott, “Ugh! I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too! You should really come out to LA.” He insisted as he pulled away and shook your shoulders.

“I would but I don’t have enough salary to do all that.”

“I would foot the bill if it meant I had the smallest bit of your sunshine in California…But I’m back for two weeks so we’ll have to get together for a Mario Kart tournament.”

“Oh we definitely need to! Are you staying at Chris’ house?”

“Probably for the last week yeah, this week I’m staying with Vanessa to spend time with Micah.” You looked over at Vanessa. She was picking out paints and chatting with Kelsey. She had just had a baby boy a few months ago and he truly was the cutest little guy. You had always wanted to settle down and have a family, it just never seemed to be in the cards for you. So, with no close friends and no significant other, you threw yourself into your work. Which worked out for the best in the end, you were practically running the library at this point but when you were finally out of your bubble you realized how detached you really were from it all.

You had picked out a basic mug while Chris picked out this big jar claiming that Dodger very much wanted a big treat jar with flames on the side. The night at the studio was full of loud laughter and some generic pop music. You had spent three hours painting, chatting, and drinking until it was finally time for the shop to close. You and Chris had gotten back into his car and he had started to drive before you turned to him. “I’m glad we were able to get Vanessa out of the house, but I fucking hate this mug.” You said with a slight chuckle before continuing, “I can’t wait to toss it.”

“You can’t just toss it! C'mon, Y/N! It’s beautiful.”

You let out a louder laugh before looking down at the blue and green mug in your lap, “Chris it’s a silly monster. It looks like a six year old made it.”

“Well a six year old didn’t make it. My thirty-seven year old best friend made it. You know what, maybe I will keep it in my cupboard and you can drink out of it every time you come over.”

“Is that my punishment for making such a bad mug?”

He reached over and squeezed your thigh gently, “Maybe. C'mon, come back to my place, Dodger would love to see you.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, “I guess, we can go see the amazing fluffy boy.”

The rest of the drive went by quickly, due to Chris and his love for pushing how far over the speed limit he could go before getting pulled over.

When you finally arrived at his house, you both went through the front door and Dodger came running. You handed your mug over to Chris so you could kneel down and pet the excited dog. He looked down at you two with a laugh, “He hasn’t had company besides my family in a while, he’s missed you.”

“I’ve missed him too. Yes, I did! I missed you so much bubba!” You told the dog as he happily licked your face, “Blegh, yuck, Dodge. Let’s go on the couch so I can give you belly rubs!” At the sound of belly rubs Dodger took off in a sprint towards the couch. You stood up with a small laugh before kicking off your shoes and making your way over to the couch.

“Can I make you a drink?” Chris asked from the kitchen.

“To put in my mug?”

He laughed at this before going over to his bar cart, “No, like a genuine cocktail in a glass.”

“Oh, the big shot actor makes drinks now? Playing a bartender soon?”

“Please, I’ve been making drinks forever! Who says I can’t make drinks?”

You stopped rubbing Dodger’s belly to shrug, “Just the way you always drink beer it’s just shocking it would even be in your list of things you can do.”

“I going to make you the fanciest fucking most wicked cocktail you’ve ever had in your life.”

“Yeah sure!” You said with fake reassurance in your voice before turning your attention back to Dodger.

A few minutes later Chris called out for you to join him in the kitchen. With a sigh, you scratched behind Dodger’s ears one last time, “Sorry buddy, your dad has to be a show off.” Walking into the kitchen with your hands on your hips you stood on the other side of the kitchen island, “And this is?” You said looking down at the cup before grabbing it and sliding it over to you.

“A tequila sunrise. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Just an interesting choice for nine at night but yes it’s very pretty.” You raise to his with a clink before you both take a drink.

He slowly lowered the glass from his lips with a smile, “Good right?”

“Not bad, not bad. Orange juice is a little off though.”

He groaned with an eye roll, “I forget that you’re picky about pulp.”

“It’s fine, you’ll have another chance to wow me. I imagine we’re doing the mario kart tournament here.”

“Oh, we can! Dodger would love that, he loves all the attention you girls give him.”

“Just like his daddy.” You said with a smirk before taking a small sip.

Chris placed his glass down on the counter and leaned on it looking you over, “Why have we never…”

You laughed slightly, “I don’t know if I should be offended or not. You have my virginity, Evans.”

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle, “I know I do. I’m trying to ask why we haven't dated.”

“Chris, you’re a world renowned actor and I’m a plus-sized librarian that never made it out of this small town. You know why.”

“Enlighten me.”

You took a big drink from your glass before gently resting it down with a sigh, “You could have anyone you wanted. Why would you settle for a childhood friend from your hometown?”

“Because I love her.”

You were happy you had swallowed because that had you laughing loudly.

His jaw fell into a fake act of being offended before yelling out, “I’m serious! You were my first crush.”

You took a few moments to compose yourself before finishing off your drink and resting it on the counter with a smile, “That’s because I hung out at your house like every day.”

“It’s not just that…Childhood crushes go away, but with you…” He let out an embarrassed huff before continuing, “I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve been like if I just asked you out in high school. If we would be married and have kids by now.”

You studied his face, trying to find a slip up or a smirk, letting you know this was all a joke. “Chris.”

“Y/N.”

As he closed the space between you, you felt your breath hitch in your chest. A small gasp escaped you as you were surprised how effortlessly he lifted you up onto the island counter. He gently pushed your legs open making room for himself as he spoke, “Do you remember Halloween night junior year?”

You swallowed hard, “When we lost our virginities to each other.”

“And I was so nervous I came before I was even anywhere close to where I needed to be. But you sat there with me until I calmed down enough to try again.” He was now a few inches from your face, his eyes dark and smirk spreading across his face, “And the fourth of July, the year after…”

“When we snuck into the basement of my house because everyone else was busy and we knew the sound from the fireworks would drown us out.

“You were the first one to ever moan my name…I think about it all the time.”

“You-you do?”

He nodded before resting his forehead against yours, “I was so stupid. I should’ve asked you out then…I was so worried that I would mess it up and lose you.”

“You were stupid.” You said quietly with a small smile.

He pulled away, giving you space as he laughed. His hands wandered up your thighs to your back to scoot you closer to the edge of the counter, “I know…And we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Your legs wrapped around him with a small smirk of your own. His eyes shifted down to look before looking up at you, “Don’t tease me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans.”

You both stared each other down until you eventually lost and had to blink causing him to laugh softly, “I’m going to carry you into my room and I’m going to make love to you the way I’ve always meant to. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to make you breakfast in bed and then tomorrow night we will go on a date. How does that sound?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately in response. He always talked too much. Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands before pulling him in to kiss him.

[fireheartfaery]

the distance we can’t comprehend

this is obviously always and forever, dedicated and discussed and developed by with and for dear Cassiopeia Nesta Aurora because she’s perfection and I love her! @danikafendyrr

once again I wrote this in the tumblr app it is most definitely not edited. please forgive me and all the glaring mistakes thank you I love you <3

I’ll put it on ao3 soon and reblog with the link. I don’t have my laptop with me so it’s difficult to do so right now okay enjoyyyyyy

[Image has alt text]

Fenrys phone buzzes on the nightstand. Incessantly. A call then. He squints as the lazy afternoon sun pierces through the large windows and engulfs the bed he’s currently lounging on.

The faint sound of the shower can be heard somewhere to his right but the phone is louder. Almost falling off the wood in its insistence on being heard.

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles grabbing it without bothering to check the screen. “Fenrys, what’s up.”

“Fen, oh my angels!” The smooth excited voice of Hunt Athalar rings through his ear. “You would not believe the afternoon I’ve had! I’m on my way home now but oh my hell Fen, I swear Micah is going to be the death of me! Can you believe what he did today—“

“Hunt,” Fenrys smiles softly, overwhelmed by the sheer love he has for his dramatic boyfriend. He’s worse so really he can’t afford to call it a flaw. “There’s something you should know before coming—“

“Micah made me deal with the godsdamn Postal Services! FEN!” Hunt continues, caught up in his raving in the heat of his hatred for the post. And hell does that hatred run deep. He doesn’t even hear Fenrys. It makes him want to laugh.

“He tried to make me go down there but I refused!” There’s some shuffling on the other end as if a hand is trying spring free while still holding a phone and probably a million other things. Neither of them have ever been the definition of “pack light”. “But I point blank refused. I said he had to go down there and deal with it himself if he wanted a face to face confrontation.”

The shower goes off. The sun still warms his brown skin.

“Ugh I can’t wait to show you the look on his face when he came back from that stupid place.” The cackling on the other end gives him enough of a clue. This conversation is going to involve too much wine and a night of belly-aching laughter. “Anyway before I spoil the show do we need anything at home?”

“Uh babe, I really think—“

“Eggs right?” Hunt mutters to himself, “And maybe more wine? I’ll get the white you like. We can sit by the fire. Apparently it’s going to be freezing.”

“We need some fresh bread please.” Fenrys manages to get out, keeping his giggles in. If Hunt didn’t have his head on the right way every morning he’d walk backwards like it was the most normal thing in the world. “And I really need to—“

“Oh shit the train is coming,” The distant roaring alerts him well enough. “I’m gonna loser signal my love. See you in a few.”

The call cuts.

Fenrys is left to a lazy room and the sound of shuffling coming from the bathroom beyond.

“Well,” He sighs, smile unable to leave his face. “Guess he’s going to be in for a surprise.”

A door opens, steam curling around the air, across the hinges, amongst bronze fingers.

“Well,” He sighs, looks at the figure standing across the room. “You are certainly a lovely afternoon delicacy.”

Drops of water sit on a wide chest, unwilling to leave. He gets it. Gods and damnation he gets it. Arms corded with veins and muscle he could spend hours tracing, are wrapping a fluffy white towel around large hips.

“The shower is amazing.” Rowan Whitethorn grins at him.

Fenrys is almost speechless, smile and teeth and joy rendering him incapable of human. This is the very definition of “wildly beautiful.” He tangles his fingers in snow white hair, forever fascinated by the delicateness. For someone so large, the hair makes everything look that much more….. just more.

“Hunt got it installed. He said there are few joys in life. A good shower after a long day is one of them.” He’s off the bed, walking slowly towards his guest. Wants to capture every minute detail. “I think he’s dramatic but it works in my favour so I can’t complain.”

“You’re staring at me like you want to eat me, again.”

“I do want to eat you. Hell I want to devour you.”

“You want to shower.” Rowan gently wraps fingers around his shoulders. Moves him into the bathroom.

“I want to take your last name.”

“After Hunt agrees to take it too.”

Fenrys disappears into the shower. And takes the quickest one of his life. Anything to be in that presence again.

As he’s stepping out of the shower he hears the front door open. Shuffling from within the room, in the kitchen too.

“Fen?” Hunt calls, shoving paper bags onto the counter. The crinkle is loud in the echo of the house. “Is that you, angel?”

“I got the white and the red—“ He can picture his boyfriend, head in the fridge, stacking wine bottles in the rack, unaware of the world around him. “I was only going to get the white but they had the really dry one you like and I didn’t particularly want to feel like I was swallowing wood drift tonight, so I got the red for me. Do you think it’d be strange to be two different kinds of dru—“

Speech ceases to exist. Fenrys is leaning on the arch that opens into the kitchen and watching with rapt attention as his boyfriend finally realises what’s going on. He can see Hunt struggling to remember language. Knows five and he can’t find sentences in any of them. Mumbles the alphabet in his sleep and can’t piece letters together to form words.

Rowan stands at the island, a gentle smile on his face. Patience lining every glorious muscle on his back.

“Fen–“ Hunt chokes out.

“Hi,” Beautiful deadly grin. “He-“ And a cursory point is waved to the side, where he still leans against the arch. “-should have told you before you came home.”

“I did try!”

“Fenrys,” Hunt is strangling on his own vocal cords.

“I know baby,” He laughs, moves into the kitchen, stands at his boyfriend’s side. “I tried to tell you on the phone but you were being sort of passionate about the whole postal service thing. I figured it’d be a nice surprise anyway.”

“You’re home.” Voice cracking. Tears are pooling in dark swirling eyes. “You’re here.”

And just like that Rowan is across the counter cradling Hunt in his arms, face gently held between warm fingers. “I’m home, my love.”

Something deep within Fenrys heart clicks back into place. A puzzle piece missing for far too long finally found in the dark dreaded abyss underneath the wardrobe. A single star finally learning what it means to light up the night sky.

Later, so much later, when the kisses have spilled over more than the wine and hands have held and held and held and tears have soaked into skin and time has melted straight through the floor, they collapse into the bed that fits three in the room that fits three in the apartment that fits three.

And the little board, hung on the fridge door, now reads: “Days without him: 0”

[miguel-owhora]

i hear your twin dick monster! reader x micah but may i propose monster! reader with a cluster of tentacles for a cock.. all with minds of their own, too. and some ovipos at the end for flavor.. sorry if this is too much !!

starting with some oral, he would be so cute all confused at what hes looking at, wondering what hes supposed to be doing. a mess of squirming tentacles at your crotch, more than ten, at least. they all act as if theyre their own creatures separate from you, moving and tangling amd tying themselves into knots. when micah is brought in closer to them, they all reach out for him, curious. hed probably be so unsettled.... looking up at you with wide blue eyes for a brief moment, wondering if youre actually about to make him do this, before he realizes he just needs to be a man.

hes so weirded out.. when he tries to lick at one, they suddenly grab his face, pulling him right up against them. they begin to slither over and explore his face. the next time he tries to open his mouth, one is forcing its way inside, exploring around his mouth, then down his throat. its hard not to gag, but hes a strong boy. a survivor.

his face gets fucked like that for a long time, the tentacles preventing him from pulling away, and slowly beginning to explore his mouth more and more. more would keep squeezing in, forcing his mouth open wide enough to strain his jaws. they cram into him until no more can fit. micahs eyes are rolled back all pretty, i bet hes even starting to cry. you pull out and move lower.

when you press yourself against micahs pussy, all the tentacles are desperate to get inside him. they squirm and stroke at his cock and dip between his folds trying to find their place. you can hold him down and barely even have to do any work as each tip eventually finds a hole to sit inside. hes trying to kick and get away from you, but you just place your hands on his shoulders and move him right back into place, below you.

they push in first as a cluster, then individually, one at a time when there arent as many out of him anymore. once every tentacle is inside him, theyre squirming and exploring, never falling still. theyre pressing against his walls and grazing against his cervix with blind curiosity. when you start actually thrusting, moving them all as one unit, theyre still moving on their own then, too. sometimes one will slip out and get lost amongst his tcock and folds, i bet some penetrate his ass at some point.

and micah is an absolute mess. youre bigger, and stronger, and have like 15 small dicks fucking him at once while also teasing at his ass and dick while still doing so much inside of him..... he hates to admit its the heaven that it is, so brainless and pleased that he can hardly even think anymore. hes devolved to a constant low groan thats only broken by your thrusts, any hopes of being smart enough to say anything intelligible having been fucked out of him quick.

he breaks so hard, in fact, that by the time youre orgasming inside him, you dont even realize that youve started filling him with eggs, and hes euphoric about it. small yet gooey, theyre maybe the size of a golf ball. one after the other fills him up, as much as he can take. even after you pull out, his belly has a beautiful bump in it. hes left flushed and panting like nothing more than a dog by the end, the feeling of being full keeping his fucked out brain from letting him think at all still.

he doesnt stop you, not even that he could, when you impulsively reach out to press down on the bump, and start forcing eggs out of him, each one stretching his sore, abused hole and making him gasp and twitch again. hes already cum on your dicks countless times, but the overwhelming feeling of each egg pushing out forces him over the edge one last time. hes silent, for once in his goddamn life, as a silent scream strains his chords.

its only all over once hes feeling horribly empty, his cunt still left twitching and spasming in the wake of you breaking him in. maybe hes even begging to be full again, pleading that not thinking was so nice for a bit there. and of course you oblige him, hes come so far from his usual state and hes being so cute that he deserves it, even. next time around he can keep the eggs in him and be your brainless little pet thats too fillednup to think for himself, and you can pride yourself on bringing the micah bell the third to that point.

grr... why didn't i think of this

[secretobsessionstuff]

Can you do something with "When did you start feeling like this?" Plz?

The mist from the waterfalls surrounded Alexi like a million stars. He lifted his head and stuck out his tongue as if he were catching snowflakes. His long black coat spun around him while he skipped along the walkway next to the falls. Micah watched from a distance, admiring the way his boyfriend did whatever made him the happiest in each moment. At that precise moment, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy his night at Niagara Falls with Micah. They had all the time in the world to gawk at the neon lights that illuminated the water.

It was beautiful; his boyfriend was beautiful. But Micah couldn’t appreciate any of it because of the sick feeling in his belly.

He lagged behind Alexi, feeling like a parent watching their kid have fun. The mist that made Alexi look as if he were dancing in the rain, was the same mist that made Micah shiver from head to toe. The droplets stuck to his coat, cheeks, and eyelashes. The night was cold, made even colder by the constant haze of water in the air. He brought the collar of his coat up to his mouth to keep the warmth inside.

“Micah, hurry up!” Alexi called from a few feet away. “I found a great spot for a picture.”

With a huff, Micah picked up his pace. He squeezed past other tourists, all trying to get their own pictures. Alexi was right about finding a good spot. They were in the perfect position to get the entire horseshoe waterfalls in the background. It was good timing too because the light show shifted towards a rainbow pattern.

Micah walked up to the barrier and put his arm around Alexi for the picture. He hoped his smile looked genuine.

Alexi gave him a kiss after seeing the picture. “It’s perfect.” He looked at Micah affectionately, watching the light show reflect in the boy’s eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Micah did not have to worry about sounding genuine for this.

“You know what else I love?” Alexi asked as he kept on walking. “Food! I’m starving. When is the reservation again?”

Micah checked his phone and let out a heavy sigh. It was not a sigh of relief. “Seven.” That was in fifteen minutes. Micah rubbed his stomach, feeling the furthest he’d ever been from hungry. He swallowed thickly, wishing the nausea would evaporate into the air.

“We better start walking towards the restaurant then.” This time Alexi didn’t skip ahead, preferring instead to hold Micah’s hand while they walked.

As usual, Micah didn’t have to worry about carrying the conversation. His boyfriend did that just fine. He started talking about how they should visit the American side of the falls next time. Then he brought up the fudge factory that they had to visit. Alexi threw his hands up, saying they still had to check out the haunted houses along the tourist promenade. There was so much stuff he wanted to do in so little time.

Micah tried to listen, but eventually his boyfriend’s voice turned into white noise. He couldn’t focus on anything but his swirling belly. For most of the day, that was all he thought about. He kept telling himself that the nausea would go away if he ate something or if they kept walking. It never did.

He put his hand that wasn’t holding Alexi’s over his upset belly. The organ groaned, like it had since he woke up. It was a miracle that he hadn’t already thrown up his measly breakfast or lunch. It seemed his stomach was saving the worst for the night.

And Micah absolutely felt like he was going to throw up any moment. He didn’t want to go to the restaurant. He didn’t want to walk along a big noisy tourist attraction.

A sudden swell of nausea made him moan quietly. Alexi didn’t notice the tension in Micah’s body or the occasional sound of suffering. Micah kinda wished that Alexi would notice.

He shook his head, thinking that this was ridiculous. If he wanted Alexi to notice, then he should just tell him. Micah knew that his boyfriend would be just as caring and sympathetic as he always was.

Micah opened his mouth as if to speak, testing to see if stomach would let him get a sentence out without expelling all of its contents. His jaw was heavy with nausea, but he managed to keep it down. So, Micah stopped. He stopped right in the middle of the walkway, too concerned with his aching belly to notice the people around him.

“Why are you stopping?” Alexi asked.

Micah swallowed. “Lexi, would it be okay if we skipped dinner and went to back to the hotel? I’m not feeling so hot.”

“Aw babe, what’s the matter?”

“My stomach feels funny.” He grimaced while rubbing his belly slowly. He was surprised when his voice came out a little shaky. “…Like I’m going to be sick or something.”

Alexi’s expression visibly fell. “You sure? It might just be that you’re hungry,” he suggested, clinging on to the fleeting moments of happiness that were left in the night.

Micah shook his head. He didn’t speak. It suddenly felt unsafe to speak. It suddenly felt very necessary to put his hand over his mouth. In a second, Micah made the decision to walk over to the grass. He had to get away from the other people and the walkway, not caring that Alexi was giving him a confused look.

“Babe?” Alexi asked hesitantly, stepping towards his boyfriend.

Micah braced himself against a tree as his stomach lurched. He let his hand fall away when a wave of sick pressed against his closed lips. All it took was opening his mouth before a cascade of vomit coated the ground by his feet.

“Oh boy,” Alexi said, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s back. “Yeah, you are definitely not hungry.”

Micah belched up another gush, thankfully not nearly as vibrant as the falls. The next waves didn’t come up as easily as the first. He let out a strangled noise from his throat while involuntarily closing his eyes from the force of each retch.

“Oh, my love.” Alexi winced as if he could feel the nausea in his own body. “Your belly really is upset. Just let it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Micah choked out, still with tendrils of sick hanging from his lips. “I thought it would go away. I thought—” another small gush of puke splattered at his feet. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, don’t try to speak,” Alexi cooed. “Wait until you’re done. I’m not going anywhere.”

Alexi’s expression twisted into one of concern as he continued to rub Micah’s back. He soon switched to holding Micah’s hair away from his face which was getting so long that it hung by his chin.

After a few more heaves and spitting onto the grass, Micah straightened up while wiping his mouth. He looked drained and grey in the moonlight, though he would have looked just as bad in the sunlight. His eyes were sunken and drooping shut.

“I think I might have caught a stomach bug,” he said weakly. He burped into his fist and immediately moaned. “Ugh, I’m so nauseous, Lexi.”

“When did you start feeling like this?” Alexi asked with sad eyes. Micah looked positively awful. He shouldn’t have been out like this. He should have been in bed. Alexi didn’t like thinking about what Micah said between retches—how he thought the nausea and stomach-ache would go away. How long did he try to convince himself this?

“I was feeling a little off this morning before leaving the hotel,” Micah said faintly, still trying to catch his breath. “I really didn’t think it would turn into this. I’m sorry.”

Alexi tucked a strand of hair behind Micah’s ear. “Stop saying you’re sorry. I should be the one apologizing for making you walk around all day.” Micah was practically sinking into his arms. “Oh baby, let’s get you home.”

With his arm draped over Alexi’s shoulder, Micah managed to walk back to the hotel. Alexi reacted the way he knew he would, but he still felt bad. “Maybe we can extend the trip and do all the fun stuff when I’m feeling better.”

The hotel room was warm and softly lit by the bedside lamps. Alexi and Micah both sighed.

“Yeah, maybe,” Alexi replied while helping Micah into comfy clothing.

He put a trashcan on the floor by the bed and kissed Micah on the forehead once he was tucked into bed. “Try to sleep now before you feel sick again.”

“Wait,” Micah said, peering over the pile of blankets. “We didn’t get dinner. What are you going to eat?”

Alexi shrugged. He really hadn’t thought about how hungry he was since Micah took over his worries. “I guess I’ll order room service. I’ve never done that before.”

“Okay, have fun,” Micah mumbled as he started to drift off to sleep at seven thirty at night. His sick body obeyed no clock. “Don’t get anything that smells yucky.”

Alexi smiled sadly while brushing Micah's hair away from his eyes. “Okay, I won’t.”

[neon-junkie]

Okay, so while Mr. Bell is on the mind 👁👁

I know so many people fat shame him and it makes me absolutely livid because I think he’s fuckin’ adorable- So could you drop some headcannons of Micah x fem reader where the girl he likes helps boost his body confidence and stuff? (Since it’s headcannoned by many that he’s insecure about his stomach) -🐀

the amount of fatphobia in this fandom is unreal... and the amount of people who say “but it’s Micah!” as an excuse to be fatphobic is just... ugh...

but on a brighter note, here’s some tender headcanons! nsft warning below :)

Micah started flirting with you just like he does to all the other women he comes across in life, only a smile crept across his lips the second you flirted back.

He's not used to this, like ever. No person dead or alive has ever flirted back with Micah Bell, and he's hooked on you the second you opened your mouth.

Micah's crush on you is so obvious, he doesn't even try to hide it. He'll jump at any opportunity to flirt with you, to be with you, to help you out on a mission, or just sit beside you in camp. He's whipped, although he'll never admit it.

And when you two begin dating, Micah's obsession becomes tenfold. It's clear this cowboy adores you to bits, only you notice an issue once you two begin getting intimate.

Micah always walks around with his shirt pretty much hanging open, but the second you try to unfasten the final two buttons, he'll gently move your hands away and distract you with something else.

You've never pushed on it, not wanting to upset him or pry into something personal, but it's been months now, and Micah continues to have sex with you with his shirt on.

It's obvious he's insecure about his size; you know he has a belly, you've seen the curve of his stomach through the fabric of his clothes.

And whenever you've attempted to wrap your arm around his stomach as you cuddle, he always moves it up to his chest, using the excuse of "I like feelin' your hand over my heart."

Today, you decide to gently push it, to try and get to the bottom of this, and hopefully help him feel confident with himself.

As always, you attempt to unbutton those two buttons on his shirt, and as always, his hands come up to move yours away.

"Let me," you whisper against his lips, and Micah's taken back by your comment.

Micah tugs at your hands again as he replies "you ain't gonna like it," and you instantly begin to protest.

"I want to see you," you tell him.

Micah looks away, his eyes trailing around the room, clearly weighing this out in his mind.

"Trust me, you don't," he eventually replies.

Another kiss is placed on his lips as you assure him that you do, "I promise you, I do, but only if you'll let me."

Micah pauses again before quietly replying "go on," and slowly moves his hands off yours.

You're covering him in kisses as you unbutton his shirt, tenderly slipping the fabric over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Your hands trail over his skin, over his curves, running your fingertips along his trail of hair. Micah's head is dipped the entire time, half watching you explore him, half shying away from his figure.

"Beautiful," you comment.

"Men can't be beautiful," Micah bites under his breath.

"You sure about that?" you ask with a playful laugh.

Micah moves your hands back up to around his neck as he wraps his around your waist, and continues with the night, though it's obvious he's attempting to ignore his gut, and how his size makes him feel.

Before you know it, you're curled up against him, your head on his chest. For once, Micah allows you to rest your hand across his stomach, your fingertips trailing across his love handles, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs every so often.

Micah doesn't say anything, but from the way he's holding you a little bit tighter than usual, and the frequent kisses and nuzzles he sends your way, you can tell he's appreciative of your touches, and your efforts to show him that you're happy with his size, and he should be too.

After that, Micah slowly begins to let you undress him more often. You can tell without him admitting, that he likes the feeling of you holding him, of you lightly trailing over his stomach, of you holding onto his love handles whenever you ride him.

Give him time, and he'll begin to pick up a thing or two off you.

[pipsqueakparker]

day 3 - apple picking

hey friends, i’m gonna try my hardest to challenge myself to write a ficlet every day this month, more or less. let’s see how that goes.

i’m going off of this list that @subpar-selkie​ made. 

day one: leaves (AO3) day two: first day of cool weather (AO3)

You can read day three on AO3, or keep reading below: 

BAZ

Simon Snow is laying on the floor of an apple orchard.

This was Bunce’s latest idea to get us all out of the flat. We’ve both been trying to pull Snow out as much as we can. After dropping out of his courses he spent the entire summer on the couch with a hard cider in hand. He’s been so…

Well, it’s not as if I could blame him. His final year at Watford and he lost his mentor, his magic, and his sense of purpose in one fell swoop. He was doing alright for a bit, after. When he was seeing someone; a lovely woman, according to him, that let him talk and talk about everything he’d tried to not think about. She must not have been too lovely, he stopped going to his appointments after a while. He never told me why.

He hardly tells me anything.

We’re still together. He’s not broken up with me, at least, and sometimes he’ll hold my hand when we’re in line at the market. I think he finds a sense of comfort from it, needs something to ground him when we’re around all those people. All those Normals. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but it can’t be easy to cope with.

I wish he’d tell me something.

Things got worse over the summer. He wasn’t sleeping, or he was always sleeping. He didn’t like to be alone, but he never quite enjoyed us being around. We couldn’t figure out how to help him, and I’m not sure how much he wanted to be helped.

Bunce staged an intervention eventually. She suggested we all go on holiday together, to America of all places. To visit Agatha, and her then-boyfriend Micah. It’s a damn good thing we didn’t. Who knows what hell we would have endured?

She broke things off with Micah a few weeks later, found out he’d been seeing another girl, a Normal girl. A Normal American girl. Good riddance, I told her.

That was when she started trying even harder to get us all out. She put all her spare focus into Snow and how to best help him.

She talked him into seeing his therapist again, somehow. That was probably the most amazing beast I’ve seen her conquer. Snow’s stubbornness.

Apparently he speaks to his therapist about me, which is how he’s ended up talking to me more. Opening up, bit by bit. (Every now and then he’ll still suggest I see her, too.) (Every time I get a little closer to agreeing.)

And Bunce makes plans for us. Snow still hasn’t returned to uni, but this week Bunce and I have a short holiday. We’re both staying here, with him. The weather’s cooling off, the leaves are turning.

And apparently apples are in season. Because today we’re picking them.

I’ve never gone apple picking.

“Neither have I.” Bunce shrugged when I said it. I almost wanted to argue, but Snow perked up as soon as the idea was presented. I can’t argue with that.

So, now he’s laying on the ground in an apple orchard. A pained groan escapes his throat and I’m rushing over to him, my own basket of apples forgotten.

“What happened? Are you alright?” I’m kneeling next to him, checking him over for any obvious injuries. Nothing looks out of place or discolored, nothing is screaming that he needs to go to A&E.

“Wanted that apple.” He lifts one of his arms, pointing at the tree above us. I follow his finger; there’s a plump, shiny green apple tucked up close to some branches. Far out of his reach.

“There are a dozen others right here.” I take his extended hand and use it to help pull him back to his feet. I try not to relish in the lingering touch before he finally snaps his hand away and steps back up to the tree. I roll my eyes for good measure. “What’s wrong with these?”

He shrugs, then reaches for the lowest branch and starts pulling himself up. “This one looks really good.”

“Snow.” Sometimes being with him is like taking care of a toddler. No, I take that back. All toddlers I’ve ever taken care of were far better behaved. Even Mordelia. I grab him by the waist to pull him back from the branch; I can feel his annoyed huff in his belly as I hold him. “You’re not meant to climb the trees.”

“But I want that one.” He leans his head back against my shoulder and I catch his pout from the corner of my eye. I’d probably be annoyed if I wasn’t enjoying the closeness so much. He goes limp in my arms, leaning into me, and I try not to read into it.

For Crowley’s sake, I’m trying not to read into touching my boyfriend.

I let out a long sigh, my breath ruffling a few of his curls.

“Baz.” Simon says quietly, at the same time that I say, “I’ll get that one for you.”

He jerks his head back, looking surprised. His mouth is hanging open just a bit, lips already beginning to chap but still they look so inviting. I let go and step around him, reaching for a branch and lifting myself into the tree. We’re not meant to climb them, that much was made clear.

But I’d stop at nothing to keep Simon Snow happy, even if it’s just the joy of having a particular apple. I pluck it easily and drop back to the ground. Snow’s still looking at me with that stupidly adorable face, a mixture of surprise and confusion.

I hold the apple out to him.

He swats my hand away, grabbing at my shoulders instead and pulling me down to meet his lips. He kisses me softly, one hand cupping the back of my neck and the other curling over my shoulder. Keeping me there, holding me close to him. As if I’d even think of backing away now.

“I love you.” He whispers the words against my lips, eyes still squeezed shut. I’m so close I can feel the nervous puffs of air that follow the confession. They mix with my own, short and rushed and — Fuck, am I panicking? That’s not the proper response. “I — Baz?”

Simon pulls back to look me in the face, brows furrowed with concern. My head is swimming with a mixture of nerves and elation. This moment is all my dreams come true, but I can’t wrap my mind around it actually happening. Around Simon actually loving me. That just sounds preposterous, but..

“Baz.” Simon’s voice cuts through the storm of chaos in my head. He’s telling me to breathe, and counting, and I try to listen and follow his directions. I finally open my eyes and look at him. (When did I close them?) His blue eyes are brighter, hair and skin glowing in the afternoon sun. He’s fucking beautiful, and he just said he loves me.

“Alright?” He asks. The hand he had on my neck is pushing back my hair, caressing my cheek. He’s being so gentle.

I nod.

“I — I’m sorry, if I —” He stops as I shake my head. He’s no reason to be, I don’t want him to apologize for it.

“Caught me off guard.” I admit. My voice is quiet, scratchy. A bit weak. I feel a bit weak, still a little light-headed and floaty. I realize I’m holding onto him, gripping onto his arms like he’s the only thing holding me here.

I think he is.

“I’m so—”

“Say it again.”

He quirks his head and I let out my own annoyed huff.

“I want to do it right, not… not panic. Forget that. Do it over. Say it again.”

Simon chuckles under his breath, then steps in a little closer. Looks at me this time as he says it.

“I love you.”

I smile, take the words in and let them burn themselves to my memory. Make myself believe it’s true, because we’ve been working so hard for this. To have this, to keep this.

“I love you, too.”

[mesangelique]

Part 1/2 of a story with a pairing no one requested : JOHN MARSTON/KIERAN DUFFY (I will post it on AO3 tomorrow)

Rating : R / 18+

Warning : alcohol, drunk sex, SMUT (but not in this part)

Thanks to @bluesilksilverspurs for the beta reading 🤠, I hope you will give this pairing a chance and like this first part ~

It's been a long day, an exhausting one. Arthur, John, Bill and Kieran went to Six Points cabin, hoping to find Colm O'Driscoll, but they found nothing spare a little cash, and Arthur's life had been saved by the « ex O'Driscoll boy » - otherwise known as Kieran Duffy. In doing so, Kieran had earned the right to be able to stay with the gang like any other member, doing chores and taking care of horses. Oh, he is well aware he won’t be able to disappear for days on end as Arthur or Micah do, but at least he won’t be tied to that tree anymore.

 

 When the group got back to the camp and were explaining to Dutch what had happened, Lenny had arrived, panting, terrified, babbling about Micah waiting to be hung in Strawberry’s jail. At that point, Dutch suggested Arthur take Lenny into Valentine to relax a little, and now, hours later, John noticed he himself was drunk as he stood up from the stool in the saloon. The world started to turn around as if he was on a roller coaster, but all he managed to do was order another drink.

 

 Arthur and Lenny had the great idea to invite John and Kieran to their little "having only one drink” thing. John was invited because he was standing there when Dutch suggested the outing, and Kieran mostly because that kid saved Mister Morgan's life - and desperately needed a bath. Hosea had also told Arthur that they had to accept him in the gang. John didn’t care much for stuff like that as long as this O’Driscoll was getting a good wash first.

 

 And speaking of the O'Driscoll boy - he had just taken a whiskey and sat right next to John, drinking thirstily straight from the bottle. John couldn't help but look at him, squinting his eyes. Now that he was clean, smelling of soap and tobacco instead of horseshit and piss, with his hair framing his thin face, he was not THAT disgusting… Actually, it was maybe the first time John was really looking at him; at his thin beard, his worried dark green eyes, his nose. John frowned. He shouldn’t be looking at him like that. But he was drunk.

 

 Yes, that's why.

 

 "Think ye can drink better than me, O'Driscoll boy?" He chuckled deeply, his laugh raspy like his voice. He didn't have to find anything else to say to have Kieran looking at him with his scared deer eyes, a rabbit about to run for his dear life. "C'mere I'll show ya how WE drink."

 

 Not giving him time to answer, he grabbed Kieran's whiskey bottle and brought it to his lips, taking big gulps, the whisky running right down his throat, burning and warming him up, and once he had run out of breath he handed the bottle back. John had to admit he was quite proud of his performance - he didn't choke or end up coughing.

 

 "Dare you to do better than that. O'Driscoll." He whispered, leaning a bit towards Kieran, smirking arrogantly. Why was he like this suddenly? Why did he suddenly want to impress that O'Driscoll boy? Ah yes, he was drunk, maybe he didn’t have to search further for a reason, maybe …

 

 Kieran’s eyes were wide, seeing his bottle being stolen like that. He was already tipsy, so he didn’t react like he normally would. Actually, he had been focusing on John Adam’s apple, the way it had bobbed up and down as he swallowed the alcohol… That ride earlier, where his body was fully pressed against the other man’s had made him look at John Marston differently.

 

 And here, now, he was mostly drunk, and his initial shyness was gone. He was just chuckling, cheeks red like a teenager, a happy one, the one he never was. Being alone like this with John should be quite embarrassing, to be honest, and at first he had been afraid. But now... John was so drunk he probably wouldn’t be able to walk straight. He was giggling and evidently really proud of his drinking performance.

 "Gimme that- you'll see I can!" Kieran retorted, reacting to John’s arrogant smirk and trying to avoid looking too long at the man’s lips and at that drop of whisky on his neck. Without much more thought, he took the bottle and emptied it. A delicious burning sensation in his throat, his head feeling so light he could float. All his anxiety, all his problems just drowned in the liquor, and so he laughed, pushing the bottle away, proudly looking at the other man.

 "Ah ah! See Marston? Was able to follow you on this!" Kieran chuckled, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows (or trying to do so at least). He closed his eyes for a few seconds and suddenly, a hot wave was spreading all over his body, thickening his saliva. Now he was looking at John, at his dirty hair, his three days old beard, his scars … How fascinating are these scars, how marvellous they are … That very one on his lips.

 "Pheeew, it’s so hot in here." The ex-O’Driscoll breathed out, looking at the ceiling, taking his dust coat off. He felt like he was on fire right now. He would love to jump naked in some river... or in some horse's trough. His cheeks were red and burning, and he could almost feel sweat droplets forming on the back of his neck. He continued, "So hot in here…. So, what we doin' now – ya know, since I finished the bottle" Kieran chuckled, trying to get rid of his neckerchief.

 

 Oh he is a mess, a fucking mess right now, unable to talk properly, babbling shitty stuff that is ricocheting about in his head. He must be mad - drinking that whole bottle hadn’t really been a good idea. Even if he thought it had impressed John… John had watched him emptying the bottle, mesmerized, in fact, by the sight of that boy drinking like he hadn't drank in days.

 

 "Ain'tcha a thirsty one, eh?" John had given a husky laugh when Kieran lowered the empty bottle and then started whining about the temperature. He can feel a warm feeling in his groin, spreading up his spine right now, and it is making him feel like he is burning too. That very same feeling he has when a pretty lady walks by and he pulls her onto his lap. The only problem is that he ain't looking at a pretty lady right now. He is looking at a very drunk O'Driscoll boy. Well, an ex-O’Driscoll boy. He is looking at Mister Duffy. Kieran. Kieran Duffy. What kind of a fool is he, John Marston, to be looking at a guy like this? The last time it happened was a decade ago. But he is drunk tonight, so that must be why. That’s obviously why.

 

 "I suppose you're pretty hot now what with all that booze you've been drinkin'. C'mon, let's get out of here and take some air" John grumbled, pushing away from the counter and bumping into some tables before finally making it to the back door. He opened it roughly, almost knocking an old man backwards while doing so. John could hear Kieran behind him, trying to act naturally, as if they hadn’t just been drinking like two sailors, and as he held the door open for him, he was able to clearly see that Kieran was having a hard time even walking straight.

 

 As Kieran drew level with John, he even tripped, and although John did not know how, or why, his reflex was to react fast, fast enough to grab him. The amount of alcohol in his own blood was sapping away at his strength though and ultimately he found himself pinning Kieran against the nearest wall with the weight of his whole body, his hands on each side of Kieran’s head and his face almost buried in his neck. His body felt spineless and he was suddenly very tired. Both of them were giggling like teenagers after their first beer. He couldn’t even feel his legs anymore. In fact, neither of them could feel their legs right now.

 

After almost collapsing on at least three occasions, they were both outside proper now. Navigating the tiny step outside of the saloon almost pitched both of them over, which was no surprise at all seeing as how drunk they were, but now they were here, leaning against another wall. How did they even make it this far? No one will ever know.

 

"You alright?" John asked in a thick voice, their noses nearly touching. They are close. Really, really close. Kieran can feel every piece of the wood behind him snagging on his shirt and scratching his back, he can feel how muddy the ground is, how cold the air is but how hot he feels, like he is burning inside. He tried to focus on everything but their sudden closeness. Because the problem is the ex-O’Driscoll is far more into men than the church wants him to be, than society wants him to be – it’s a problem he has known about for a long time, and has tried to hide for even longer… people get hanged for it. Kieran could hear his heart in his ears, his blood pumping roughly, and his lungs running out of air, his tongue heavy in his mouth but most importantly that warmth waking up in his lower belly, spreading in his groin, curling up his spine. Having John Marston, drunk, his nose almost against his, his body flush against him... He swallowed thickly, looking at John’s lips as though hypnotised, and managed to nod, his green, greyish eyes glancing over John’s scars.

 

"Y-es. 'Am alright, Mister." He whispers.

 

 John's breathing was suddenly deep and fast. He could feel Kieran's warmth mixing with his own. Strangely, he didn’t mind. He knew damn well he was already growing hard, mostly because of the  alcohol, of course. He always got so horny when he started getting drunk, so the fact that it was Kieran and not another cheap whore isn’t so surprising, right? The fact that he found Kieran’s eyes fascinating and his lips kissable right now, and his so thin, fragile collarbone beautiful – that was just the alcohol. This closeness wasn’t helping, creating friction on his - their - cock under his – their - pants, having him - them - hum deeply, both acting like they did not hear or feel the other.

 

"Yea? That's good then. Yea."

 

 There was a silence then when John met Kieran's eyes, and his mind was filled up with dark fantasy and desire and want and that need of possession. He rarely felt that with a girl, that possessiveness rising. But he had really drank a lot tonight, they both had really drank a lot, and Kieran looked like a lamb waiting for a wolf to eat him.

 

 "Thought you were hot? Gotta do something about that, right?" John whispered thickly, lowering his eyes to Kieran's throat, almost able to hear his thundering beating heart when his hands went to the collar of his shirt and started working on the buttons. The alcohol doesn’t help his fingers at all, but he was slipping one button free and then another…

 

"Yeah- I'm… I'm hot - but w...whatabout you ?" Kieran whispered back, trying to keep his voice steady, but freezing immediately, unsure. He could feel John’s hands on his shirt, feel his fingers working on opening it – the way his breath was coming quicker and his eyes had grown significantly darker. Kieran couldn’t help but bite his lip, and couldn’t decide if he hoped John would notice it or not, the way he himself has noticed John’s hooded lustful gaze and the way he is staring at his face, his neck.