#Morgan ❤���
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heavenlymorals · 4 months ago
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do you think arthur is someone that apologizes?
i know he has that talk at the campfire where he asks the people to forgive him. but i don’t remember him ever saying “i’m sorry”? sure those two could be seen as interchangeable but to me they’re distinctly different
i also haven’t played the game in a while so i might just not remember it
He apologizes to Mary for yelling at her in public. He does apologize to Edith Downes for the whole debt thing in the end and he does say I'm sorry to her, so yeah, he can apologize, but I guess that is a low standard considering he was part of the reason why she had to suffer so much so apologizing was the least he could do-
So it's not like Arthur can't apologize. He absolutely can and will, but don't expect it to be a common occurrence because Arthur is anything but a pushover, especially over things he sees as dumb.
Though I have noticed he is much more likely to apologize to women then to men. He almost NEVER apologizes to men in the game.
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emrys-merlin · 2 years ago
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The prettiest sorcerer who ever live :D
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angelscovee · 7 months ago
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new challenge tag me in every morgan cheli fic you find! go! 😁
** LEVEL EASY **
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mis3rabl3m3lody · 9 months ago
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Get ready for a really sappy love letter I wrote to my dearly beloved orthur morg,,,,😞
My dearest Mr. Morgan,
This is just a letter to express how lucky I am to have someone like you in my life. Just when I was starting to lose all hope, you walked into my life and I've never been happier. You might be thinking that a man with a criminal record like yours couldn't possibly have the ability to make anyone as happy as you've made me, but that simply isn't true. You've taught me lots of things, you listen to me and accept me for who I am, just as I've accepted you for you, flaws and all.
You say that a man such as yourself isn't good enough for me, but you've always been enough, and you always will be. When I first met you, you weren't some scary big bad evil; you were an honest and kind person who was willing to lend me an ear without judgment. That's more than I can say about most other guys I've met in my life.
And I get it; I've had my fair share of self doubt when picturing myself with such a handsome man like you. I kept saying to myself, "there's absolutely no way he would be remotely interested in someone as annoying and insignificant as me." But you always manage to make me feel loved and acknowledged with how genuine you are with your words. You make me see the good things about myself, and I just hope to do the same for you, because god dammit you deserve it. Despite all the horrible things you've done, you deserve to be treated right and to be loved and most importantly, to love yourself, just like anyone else. And I will do whatever I can to make sure you get the love you deserve.
It's a very cruel and scary world we live in, and we're both going through our own respective shit, but the least we can do is be there for each other, and keep each other in our minds and our hearts when we can't physically be there for each other. To quote one of my favorite books:
"If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever."  --Winnie The Pooh
Always remember; you are loved, Arthur Morgan, and you always will be, as long as I'm here. Whether right by your side, or in your heart, mind and beyond.
From the bottom of my heart,
Misery🖤
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s4memistake · 2 months ago
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RUST COHLE TAG DROP (1/2)
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downs1de-has-moved · 1 year ago
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RUST COHLE: TAG DROP (1/2).
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destiel-wings · 8 months ago
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152. debra morgan | DEXTER
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gublernatural · 1 year ago
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Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner
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from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.
♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal
♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all
♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.
These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.
But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.
You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.
So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.
You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.
However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.
“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.
He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.
You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.
“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.
However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”
With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?
He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.
Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.
The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.
This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.
The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.
As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.
“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.
You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.
“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.
“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”
Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.
You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.
“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”
There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”
While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.
“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.
After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.
Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.
Until you opened your door Saturday morning.
You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.
The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.
“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.
“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.
“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.
You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.
So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.
However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.
You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.
Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.
So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.
Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.
You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.
The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.
You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.
You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.
As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.
You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.
You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.
You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.
Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.
Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.
“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.
“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.
“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.
“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”
Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.
“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.
“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.
As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.
“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”
You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.
The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”
“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”
Well, you couldn’t refuse that.
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ambers-archive · 5 months ago
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got love struck ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .˚ ✧ ˚ 
in which spencer wants your anniversary to be perfect, but everyday is perfect with you. word count: 2.1k cw: purple scarf cameo, idiots in love, fluff, happy ending, established relationship. (english isn't my first language, minimal proofread!) pt1 what if all i need is you (can be read as standalone)
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Spencer closed the tab on his computer, a frustrated scowl forming on his lips. For days, he’d been scouring the internet, spending sleepless nights hunched over his desk, searching for the perfect anniversary gift for you. It was your first year together, and everything had to be perfect.
But nothing felt right. Every idea he considered was quickly dismissed. He shut his eyes, trying to quiet his overthinking mind.
You two met at his favorite coffee place, he noticed you right away when he realized you stole his seat. 
You had yourself perched against the chair nuzzled against the rest of the wall. 
And after a week of ogling you across the room he finally got enough courage to start a conversation over a book you were reading. Then with shaky fingers and some mumbling he finally had the courage to ask you out, suggesting a tour of the city since you just moved.
Spencer knew his demanding work schedule wasn’t easy on you. You were so patient, understanding, and kind—perhaps too kind, he often thought. Canceled dinner dates, postponed trips, missed laughs, and missed love were all too common. Yet despite it all, you always met him with a reassuring smile.
“I know you’re busy saving lives,” You had told him once, as the two of you cuddled in bed after the third missed date in a row. He hadn’t had anything better to offer than a string of apologies, and he feared one day it wouldn't be enough.
“Hey pretty boy, what’s got you so upset?” Morgan asked, his voice pulling Spencer out of his thoughts.
Spencer took a moment to collect himself before turning to Morgan. “I’m trying to figure out a good anniversary gift for her.”
In a room full of profilers he didn’t think they’d be so keen on his social cues, but of course they noticed him constantly fidgeting and sneaking quick glances at his phone. 
Emily was the first to find out about you.
The teasing lasted months.
Penelope was rushing toward his desk with her tea in one hand and Morgan’s coffee in the other.
“You have to go all out!” Garcia exclaimed, barely containing her excitement. “Chocolates, flowers—oh, please tell me you’ve got the whole day planned!”
“Calm down, baby girl,” Morgan laughed, taking his coffee. “I’m sure our genius over here has something in mind.”
Spencer sighed. “I want to make it special since it’s our first anniversary, but I just don’t know what she’d like.”
“Well, what are her love languages?” Penelope asked, ready to unleash her vast knowledge of relationships.
“I think it’s quality time,” Spencer replied, a small smile playing on his lips as he thought about you. “She’s always engaged in our conversations, making strong eye contact, putting her phone away, asking questions. She also lingers after dates.”
He paused, recalling the moments you’d linger on your doorstep after he drove you home, the way you’d breathe him in after a kiss, your forehead resting against his. “She never seems in a rush to leave, like she values every moment we spend together.”
Morgan grinned, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look. “There you go, pretty boy. Think about what she loves, what makes her happy. That’s the key.”
Spencer nodded picked up his phone, scrolling through the list he’d made of all your favorite things.
He stopped on a picture of you smiling back at him from the screen, a photo he’d taken during one of your many picnics. Your hair had been flowing in the wind, your eyes crinkled with your smile as you explained the meaning behind one of your favorite songs. It was the same photo that graced both his phone and laptop backgrounds.
“She loves almost every kind of art,” he whispered, his heart swelling with affection. “Renaissance literature, realism paintings, classic books. And she’s really outdoorsy too.”  He whispered, his heart expanding, pumping. thump, thump- laced with love.
He thought about the countless picnic dates, the times you’d coaxed him out of bed for a run or a hike. His mind wandered to what you might be doing right now—your second class of the day had likely started, and he imagined you taking notes, doodling in the margins.
Penelope and Morgan exchanged amused glances, their lips quivering with smiles as they listened to Spencer’s lovesick ramblings.
“Looks like Reid’s got it bad,” Morgan whispered to Garcia, who stifled a giggle behind her hand.
“He really does,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Spencer hadn’t seen you in two weeks, four days, twenty-three minutes, and fourteen seconds—far too long. He didn’t want to waste another moment as he approached your door, your favorite flowers in hand. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait another second, as you opened the door before he could even knock.
Spencer’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. Every day, he found himself falling for you more and more. You gave him a shy smile, stepping out to wrap your arms around his taller frame. He hugged you back immediately, burying his head in the crook of your neck. When you finally pulled apart, he took a proper look at you, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. In that moment, and in every other, you were the epitome of beauty—a vision that left him utterly mesmerized.
“These are for you,” Spencer said softly, offering you the peonies. He realized they paled in comparison to you, but nonetheless, he held them out.
“You never forget them, Spence,” you said, your voice equally soft. Spencer chuckled, half-offended that you’d think he ever could—eidetic memory or not.
“I’m glad you like them,” he replied, taking your hand as he led you to his car, opening the door for you. “I have the whole day planned.”
“Yeah?” Your head rises of its own accord against the car seat. 
"I really want it to be perfect." 
It’s already perfect because how much better can it get you thought? You're in his car, your favorite songs playing in the background and his hand never leaves your side. 
“It already is.” You say grazing your thumb over his knuckles. 
You finally reach the place away from everyone else. “There’s a trail nearby and a perfect place for a picnic.” Spencer whispers, slipping his hand into yours again. 
It fits so perfectly.
You smile, squeezing his hand “Lead the way.” 
In a field of daisies Spencer pulls out a blanket, carefully placing his gifts as he pats the spot next to him. You nestle against his taller frame, he smells like sandalwood, coffee, and home. 
“What are you thinking about?” You ask him, he smiles down at you playing with your hair absentmindedly. 
“You. Always you.” You get the familiar, but nevertheless oh-so welcome kick in your stomach every time he smiles at you. 
“What about you?” He asks in return, and you shrug, not able to convey all your emotions. 
“I'm thinking that I want my gifts.” You say slightly pouting.
With a shy smile, Spencer untangled himself from you and reached for the presents. He handed you a beautifully wrapped package and a small painting, both wrapped with care.
“I hope you like them,” he said, his voice tinged with nervousness.
Your eyes lit up as you unwrapped the gifts, revealing a limited edition of Sylvia Plath’s work—a book you’d mentioned offhandedly that you’d been searching for. Your gaze met his, overflowing with emotions you hadn’t known were possible. You always believed in love, but this? This was beyond anything you’d imagined. It made all the heartbreaks of the past worth it because they led you to him.
You abandoned the gifts, flinging yourself into his arms. He laughed, catching you as you both tumbled onto the grass. Spencer buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.
“They’re perfect,” you whispered. “Thank you so much.”
Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “I’m glad you like them,” he replied, still holding you.
“How did you even find it?” you asked, marveling at the book.
“Brittney Johnson—remember the missing persons case we solved? Her dad’s a book collector. He was really grateful and said if we ever needed a favor, he’d be happy to help.”
You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. You’d spent so long building walls around yourself, convincing yourself you didn’t need a relationship. But with Spencer, those walls crumbled before you even had a chance to put them up.
“I also wrote you a card, my handwriting isn't the best, but I know you like words of affirmation” Spencer said, reaching into his bag. But before he could present it, dark clouds gathered overhead, and raindrops began to fall, dampening the ground.
“Seriously?” Spencer groaned, quickly sheltering you with his jacket. The chocolate and sandwiches were ruined, along with your clothes. The two of you hurried to the car, making sure the gifts were safe, and finally found shelter inside.
“I’m sorry our picnic was ruined, angel,” Spencer said, helping you fix your hair.
“It’s not ruined, Spence. We can have a night in, order some Chinese, and finish a new episode?” you suggested, trying to cheer him up.
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, though he couldn’t hide his disappointment as he started the car.
𐙚 ✱ ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .
Back at your apartment, the two of you hurried inside, drenched from the rain. You kicked off your shoes and quickly disappeared into your bedroom, returning with dry clothes for both of you. You handed Spencer his sweater, the one you’d “borrowed” long ago, and couldn’t help but smile as he accepted it.
“Hey, I was looking for this,” he said, pulling on the warm sweater.
“Sorry I stole it,” You replied, not the least bit apologetic.
He shook his head, following you to the kitchen, where you were setting up takeout containers on the counter. The sweater smells like you and he thinks he should let you keep it. It smells like cherries, winter warmth and like the love of his life.
“I love that you did. I feel closer to you whenever I wear it.”
You blushed, grateful he couldn’t see your flushed cheeks as you turned to grab plates. Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“This isn’t how I planned our anniversary,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”
You turned in his arms, cupping his cheek as you gazed into his warm eyes. “Spence, it was perfect. It’s not about the flowers or the gifts or the picnic. It’s about being with you.”
Before Spencer could respond, you gently stepped out of his embrace, suddenly remembering you still had his gift to give.
“I have a surprise for you,” you said with a smile, rummaging through the gift bag. You walked back to him, holding up a beautifully knitted purple scarf.
“My mom’s been teaching me how to knit, and this is the first thing I made. It’s for you. I know you get colds easily, and keeping your neck and chest warm can help reduce the shock of inhaling cold, dry air, which irritates your respiratory tract. I even stitched my name on the end, so a part of me is always with you.”
Spencer’s face lit up as he accepted the scarf, immediately noticing how it carried your familiar scent.
“This is so thoughtful,” he said, his eyes soft with appreciation. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been this concerned about my colds. Although, just so you know, wearing a scarf alone won’t prevent you from catching a cold. Colds are caused by viruses, usually spread through respiratory droplets or by touching contaminated surfaces.”
You smiled at his rambling, finding comfort in the way his mind worked—it was like a love language all its own. Chuckling softly, you wrapped the scarf around his neck, adjusting it just right.
“It’s the thought that counts, angel,” he said sincerely, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s already my favorite scarf.” He then brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them.
It's in the quiet, messy, beautifully imperfect moments like this, spencer thinks: where love is felt in every heartbeat, every glance, and every shared breath.
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thank you so much for reading <33
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heavenlymorals · 4 months ago
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alright this is kind of a random thought, but I'm gonna go ahead anyway! let's say arthur somehow timetraveled to the present day. what do you think his thoughts would be about gender roles, the fact that we drive cars instead of using horses, the advancement of technology, inflation clothing styles, the way modern women act, etc. all the good and bad, what do you think his opinion would be about all this?
Take your average 90+ year old straight white man today and give him the strength and vigor of a 36 year old man. That's it. That's your answer. Honestly, Arthur is a product of his time and I will hammer this point in any chance I get because goddamn it it needs to be said. The only reason why old people are sexist, or hate our clothing, or our music, or our change in culture (such as an outdoor American culture to an indoor American culture) is because they grew up in a time where it was just so different that those morals are still ingrained in them to this day.
So basically he'll be in awe of advancements of humanity like machinery or meds but will hate or at best barely tolerate everything else. Somethings he'll definitely hate is dying chivalry, the lack of outdoor activities and work that most people used to do, the loss of community, and yes, the lack of precise roles between men and women.
Gonna say it again- don't expect a man from the 1800s to be anything BUT a man from the 1800s.
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angelscovee · 6 months ago
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THIS ATE SO HARD OMG
please write more Morgan omg I’m so obsessed with her 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗
Dark red
I just hope she don't wanna leave me
morgan cheli x fem! reader
synopsis: Lately you've been prioritizing school and morgan is feeling neglected warnings: angsty fluff??? this is my best attempt at fluff wc:1042
NOT SPELLCHECKED!
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The brightness of the lamp gleamed down on you. It was late at night but this assignment was due tomorrow and you simply couldn't risk not getting it done. You had spent all your recent time focusing on schoolwork, engineering was not an easy major and with the school year finally picking up this meant you were met with a pile of homework every day when you got home, much to your girlfriend Morgan's dismay.
She was very understanding of the situation being usually very busy herself juggling(get it) basketball and school but lately, she had felt a shift in the relationship. Morgan always did her best to make time for you regardless of how busy she was. Even if she came home exhausted from practice she would still ask you to come over to spend time with you.
With all the assignments piling up you barely had any time to hang out with her. You had grown comfortable in your routine, once you got home you would call her and usually one of you would come over depending on who was more tired or bombarded with tasks to do. However one day you had come home so tired that you forgot to call her and immediately fell into bed.
This led to a change in your routine. At first, Morgan didn't think too much about it. She was aware of the fact you were probably asleep so she had come over and made you something to eat before putting it in the fridge and watching TV until you had woken up. 
She hadn't started to worry until you continued to skip calls for a couple days. It had now been almost a week without you guys having had a real conversation that wasn't over messages or apologizing for being busy.
Morgan was beginning to feel a little upset with you. She didn't like feeling this way but she couldn't help but feel a little resentment towards you. Every time you guys had gotten into a fight or argument Morgan was always the first to apologize even if it wasn't her fault, this being one of the many things you loved about her.
As you sat there working on your assignment you couldn't help but feel slightly dread. Your gut was telling you something bad was going to happen but you pushed it aside and continued to do your work.
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Long after you had finished your assignment the feeling lingered. Suddenly you came to the realization that you hadn't spoken to your girlfriend all day. You felt the pit in your stomach grow as the realization set in. 
You felt like an awful girlfriend. You were aware of the fact that you had been neglecting her lately but that was because of school it wasn't your fault right? Pushing these thoughts aside for now you decided to text her being pretty certain of the fact she was still awake.
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You were glad that she was coming over. It had been a while since you had properly hung out and it was definitely taking a toll on the both of you which you could easily tell from just the messages alone.
Making your way to the living room you decided to tidy up a bit before she arrived. You made a cup of her favorite tea and made sure to grab a snack for yourself before setting the items down on the coffee table and clicking on her favorite show.
You wanted to show her that you cared because for the past couple days you had done the exact opposite. All you wanted was to make her happy, you felt the tears well up in your eyes from the disappointment in yourself.  Your greatest fear was always and always would be losing morgan.
Taking a deep breath You did your best to calm down before opening your phone to check Morgan's location. You saw that she was already at your apartment so you put your phone down and as you did you heard her keys unlocking the door.
When she sat down next to you, you immediately wrapped your arms around her and profusely apologized.
“What” she questions looking confused 
“I'm sorry for ignoring you” you reply looking up at her with tears in your eyes that you hope she doesn't notice
“it's okay baby I understand you were busy” she says looking down at you sympathetically
The truth was that Morgan had come over ready to argue with you but as soon as she saw your glossy eyes staring up at her she felt guilty like she was the one that had messed up. She felt that it was a mutually shared problem. While you had failed to make time for her she had become upset and pushed you away unintentionally enabling your behavior which had led to this heartfelt confession.
Rather than dwell on the argument of sorts you both made a silent agreement to never do anything like that again. You both had always been able to understand what the other was thinking by simply looking at each other. You had always believed it was because you had known each other since you were practically born but now you believed it was because Morgan was your other half.
As corny as that might sound, you felt that it was the truth. You cuddled up next to her before mentioning the tea you had made her. She smiled and thanked you before wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.
It was simple actions like this that made your heart flutter. You had always been on the more domestic side. Tonight was something different. You felt so seen and understood by Morgan in a way you never had before. 
Usually, you guys would have argued a little before coming up with a compromise or solution. However today you had both decided that it wasn't worth arguing and hurting each other. Neither one of you wanted to risk losing the other so you had made the compromise without the argument. And as you drifted off to sleep you felt the happiest you had ever felt with the tall brunette also fast asleep next to you
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narcoticv3nus · 3 months ago
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Ride or Die ❤︎ Arthur Morgan
Kinktober Day XXVI: Face Sitting
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summary: you both have needed some stress relief good thing your man has the perfect remedy tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, face sitting, cunnilingus, praise, stress relief wc: 2.3k
MASTERLIST
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The sweltering heat of mid-summer enveloped you as you stood in your dusty backyard in West Texas. The sun hung high in the sky, its relentless rays pouring down like molten gold, wrapping you in warmth. You balanced precariously on your toes, stretching to reach the wooden clothesline that sagged under the weight of the humid air. With each clothespin, you secured the damp fabric—its fibers still heavy from the wash—hanging them in a colorful line that fluttered gently, eager for the breeze to take hold.
After a long day tackling household chores that seemed never-ending, fatigue washed over you like the dew settling on the grass at dawn. Sweat trickled down your forehead and dripped from your chin, creating a sheen that glistened on your tanned skin. The air was thick and muggy, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, and you could feel the relentless sun creating that familiar weight in the pit of your stomach, urging you to seek shade and a reprieve from the day’s demands.
A sudden chorus of sharp barks erupted into the stillness of the afternoon, cutting through the air like a warning bell. You felt a thrill of anticipation as the rhythmic sound of hooves clattering against the grass reached your ears, stirring a smile on your lips. Rounding the corner, you caught sight of your "husband," Arthur Morgan, as he gracefully dismounted from his sturdy horse. He landed with a soft thud on the ground, letting out a weary sigh that hinted at the long day behind him. His presence, strong and rugged against the backdrop of the setting sun, filled you with warmth and a sense of home.
As you approached, Arthur turned towards you, his soft blue eyes locking onto yours, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Seeing you instantly eased some of the tension etched on his face. He removed his dusty hat, revealing a mess of sweat-soaked brown hair, and ran a calloused hand through the tangled strands.
“Looks like you’ve had a fair share of work yourself,” he said, his voice gruff yet tender. He walked towards you, closing the distance between you two, and brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair off your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear.
“C’mon inside,” he offered, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, “I think we both could use a bit of relaxation.” As you entered your home's cool refuge, Arthur took a deep breath, surveying the room.
Guiding you to the small bedroom at the back of the house, Arthur closed the door behind him, allowing the sounds of the world outside to fade into a distant hum. The room was dimly lit by a single candle burning on the nightstand, casting dancing shadows across the wooden floorboards. He moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours.
You gently pressed your palm against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Maybe we should wash up first,” you proposed, your voice slow and deliberate. The remnants of sweat clung to your skin, a sticky reminder of the heat, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort that came with it.
Arthur's gaze drifted downward, resting on your hand gently pressed against his chest. His expression was a mask of stoicism, revealing nothing as his intense eyes locked onto yours. The moment felt charged with a tension that lingered in the air between you.
“I want ya’ now,” he declared, his voice low and intense as he pressed his hand over yours. His fingers curled possessively around yours before he gently pulled your hand away.
Arthur moved closer, a hand resting on your waist as he gently guided you back toward the bed. The softness of the bedding awaited you, creating an inviting contrast to the moment's intensity. His presence felt warm and enveloping, heightening the tension as he leaned in, bringing you closer together.
The need for release and the desire to forget the world's harsh realities had consumed him, even for a moment. Arthur's hands trailed down your arms, his strong fingers gripping your hips and pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He paused, looking deep into your eyes, silently asking for your consent.
He inhaled sharply, the scent of your skin mingling with the sweat and earthy aroma of the day's work, strangely alluring in its simplicity. Arthur leaned forward, brushing his lips against your neck, his tongue tracing a wet path toward your ear. He whispered huskily, "Let me take care of ya'.” he pleaded. “Let me help ya’ relax." With a gentle push, he guided you onto the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly working on undoing the buttons of your dress.
His actions were unhurried yet deliberate, each touch and kiss filled with a palpable hunger between you two. Arthur's breath hitched as your dress fell open, revealing the skin beneath. He pulled you to stand, sliding the fabric down your arms until it pooled at your feet. He stepped back, drinking in your sight, allowing the heat between you to build further. His hands roamed over your exposed flesh, feeling the goosebumps rise under his touch. Finally, with a low groan, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he guided you back onto the mattress.
The world outside seemed to disappear as his tongue sought yours, a dance filled with promise and passion. Arthur's calloused hands skimmed across your thighs, pushing aside the last barriers between you. He could feel the dampness gathering between your legs, his desire straining against his trousers. Breaking away, he gazed into your eyes.
"I reckon we both need this," he muttered, his voice gruff with want as he stood to undress himself. His fingers worked on his belt buckle with practiced ease, each movement deliberate and unhurried. His shirt came off next, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the tapestry of scars that mapped out his life's story.
Arthur's gaze never left yours, watching the hunger grow in your eyes as he exposed himself to you. Stepping out of his trousers, he returned to the bed, his naked form a testament to the raw masculinity that made up this rugged man. Sliding back onto the bed, Arthur positioned himself between your thighs, his gaze locked onto yours as his hands gently parted them. He lowered his head, pressing featherlight kisses along your inner thighs, teasing your sensitive flesh.
You could see his desire burning bright in his eyes, contrasting his usually guarded demeanor. His warm breath tickled your sensitive area, making you squirm in anticipation. Savoring the sight of your flushed skin and how your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath you took, he didn’t waste any time, diving right in to taste the sweetness he knew awaited him.
His tongue swirled and dipped, eliciting a moan from your lips as he explored your folds. Arthur loved how you reacted to him, your body tensing and releasing as he pleasured you. It made him feel powerful and needed, something he craved deep down. His fingers joined the dance, massaging your thighs before sliding further up to caress your breasts. He kneaded and pinched your nipples gently, feeling you writhe beneath him as the sensations built. Each sound you made only drove him further, pushing him to make you feel even better.
As he continued, Arthur could feel himself getting harder, his need for you almost unbearable. He knew you were close, your body quivering and muscles tensing around his tongue. He redoubled his efforts, wanting nothing more than to watch you fall apart in pleasure.
"Mmm...you taste so good," he growled against your skin, causing you to shudder in delight. His stubbled cheeks grazed your sensitive thighs as he continued to explore your cunt with his tongue, savoring every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. His hands wandered higher, gripping your waist firmly to keep you in place while his thumbs traced lazy patterns over your lower abdomen, heightening the sensitivity of every nerve ending.
He felt your legs tremble, your breaths turning shallow and erratic. Arthur knew you were on the precipice, so he slowed, drawing out the delicious torment. He wanted to savor this moment, to remind himself why he fought so hard to survive each day. He glanced up, watching your face contort in ecstasy as he finally brought you over the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your body convulsed, riding wave after wave of pure bliss.
Arthur pulled back only when your breathing evened out, his chin glistening with evidence of his desire for you. He gave you a smug grin, his blue eyes darkened with lust. "Feelin' better?" he asked, his voice rough and husky. You nodded slowly, a dopey grin spreading across your face as you tried to steady your breath. Your heart raced as you gazed down at him, feeling a mix of exhilaration and affection that made the moment feel almost surreal.
“I want to be on top,” you confessed; gently running your fingers through his damp hair, you pushed it backward, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath your nails as they glided effortlessly over his skin. The soft strands, slightly tousled from the moisture, slipped through your fingers, creating a soothing rhythm that sent a shiver down your spine.
Arthur raised an eyebrow at your request, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. After switching your positions, he sat back, allowing you to take control, and watched as you positioned yourself over him, straddling his lap.
“Can I…” you began, a warm flush creeping to your cheeks as you kept your gaze locked on him. Your eyes lingered on the curve of his nose, tracing the rugged outline and drifting down to his lips.
He nodded, his smirk growing wider. "Go ahead," he said gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, gently urging it open before tracing its contours.
You swallowed, climbing up his body until your thighs encompassed his face, your bottom hovering over his chest as your hands grasped the wooden headboard, giving you balance and offering support for the pleasure that was to come.
Arthur's hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly, guiding you into position. Your wetness brushing against his lips sent a jolt through him. He leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue, exploring your most intimate spaces with a newfound hunger. He tasted saltwater, sweat, and a faint trace of your arousal—an intoxicating mix that only fueled his desire.
His fingers flexed against your skin, holding you close as he indulged himself. Arthur's eyes fluttered shut, focusing solely on the feeling of your body against his mouth, the soft moans that escaped your lips, and the sweet taste of you. His tongue moved with deliberate strokes, teasing your sensitive spots until your hips began to rock back and forth in response. Arthur's hands tightened on your thighs as you moved above him, guiding you with gentle yet firm pressure. He could feel the tension building within you, each gasp and moan urging him onward. One hand moved up, thumb tracing lazy circles around your clitoris, while his tongue delved deeper, probing and swirling.
"Mmm..." Arthur hummed low in approval, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers dug into your thighs slightly, urging you closer as he continued to lavish attention on your clitoris. His tongue swirled around it before dipping lower, exploring the wetness between your thighs with an insistent hunger. He savored each moan and whimper, his desire growing with each passing second. Feeling the tension in your thighs increase as your body responded to his ministrations, he pressed a finger inside you, moving in rhythm with his tongue, curling it just to hit that spot that made your breath hitch.
"Ride my face," he commanded, his voice rough with lust as he said your name. He opened his eyes to watch your reactions—the flush spreading across your chest, the way your nipples hardened under the cool air, and the unmistakable pleasure etched on your face. With a sultry moan, you obliged, grinding yourself against Arthur’s mouth, savoring the exquisite friction he created.
He held onto your thighs tighter, adjusting his position slightly to accommodate your movements. His finger steadily moved in and out of you, curling each time to massage that sensitive spot. His other hand found its way to your hip, guiding you with gentle yet firm pressure. He could feel your muscles tensing around him as you rode his face, your moans growing louder, more insistent. Arthur reveled in the sight and sounds of your pleasure—it was like a drug, and he was already addicted.
His mind fogged with lust as he watched your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath. He increased his pace, tongue, and finger, working together in perfect harmony. His gaze never left yours, the fire in your eyes driving him wild.
"That's it, darlin'," he rasped encouragingly, his breaths growing shallower. He could sense your orgasm building, feel it in the way your body moved against him. With one final push, he sent you over the edge, drinking in your cries of ecstasy as you came apart in his hands. He didn’t stop until every last tremor had subsided, leaving you panting and spent against him.
Reluctantly, he released your thighs, allowing you to slide down his body until you were cradled against his chest. Arthur brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you caught your breath. You yelped and were suddenly lifted into the air bridal style. Arthur carried you into the washroom, his steps slapping against the hardwood floor.
“Let me clean ya’ up,” he grunted, setting you down as he filled the tub with water. “Then I’ll get ta’ have ya’ again.”
main masterlist, rules
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angelscovee · 7 months ago
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im in need of more morgan cheli fics there is a drought
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luveline · 2 years ago
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𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
When Eddie asks you on a date, you don’t believe it. He probably meant as friends, right? Spoiler alert — Eddie wants to be more than friends, and he’s willing to prove it. [4k]
fluff, slight hurt/comfort, fem!reader, plus-sized!reader, reader feels undesirable, kissing, obligatory ‘don’t be cruel’ scene, eddie calls you pretty like ten times, requested here
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Eddie has one of those smiles that screams trouble. Every time he looks at you with that smile he might as well have "I'm gonna break your heart," written across his forehead in tandem. 
You sneak a glance at him across the atrium. Eddie’s paused bussing tables to talk to a patron, his customer service voice in play with a matching smile. It isn't the one you mean, but it's bad enough to make you flush red-hot. You cross your arms over the bar, regret it for its stickiness, and let your head rest against the crook of your elbow. 
You've been working together for a long time now, almost six months, and he's your favourite coworker hands down. He cleans up after himself, he brings snacks that you never accept (lest you look like the greedy chubby girl you worry everyone expects you to be), and he talks to you like a real person.
It's horrifying and it's not fair, but being fat means that sometimes guys don’t want to look at you. They don't want to be in the same room with you, and you can tell; they avert their eyes, or simply don't talk to you directly.
You've never had that feeling with Eddie. He meets your eyes, unflinching, and he sends you one of those pretty smiles and you think Fuck, because he should've been a movie star, he has the cheekbones for it, or a rockstar like that band he's always raving about. He'd have a slim LA girl on both arms, no doubt about it. 
He likely wouldn't waste his time with you. 
Not someone pretty as he is. Sometimes he'll lean over and expose the flat stretch of his stomach, his v-lines and the dark trail of hair peeking above his jeans, and you feel acutely miserable 'cause you know you'll never get to touch him. Workplace crushes suck. 
"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks, a hand dropping against your shoulder. 
You pull yourself up quickly. Speak of the devil, Eddie stands beside you with his hair tied away from his face. He looks more entertained than concerned, his smile unfortunately genuine. 
"I'm fine," you say, stepping back. His hand falls away from your shoulder. "Sorry, just tired." 
Eddie leans into your space, squinting. You freeze up, but he's only checking the time on the clock behind you. "Gotta tough it out. Still an hour and a half 'til closing." 
Which means there's more than two hours of your shift left. Your face must show how unexciting that is —Eddie laughs, warm and quiet, and gives your hand a squeeze. 
"You'll live," he promises. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go get pizza or something." 
"What, nobody else is available?" you ask. 
His head juts back a touch, put upon shock. "And why can't I ask you? I like you and I like pizza, that's a good combination. And even if you don't like me that much, you like pizza, right?" 
You know —you know, you do— that Eddie doesn't mean it as a slight. This isn't some thinly veiled insult on how you look. Why wouldn't you like pizza? Most people do, but his comment twists itself into an evil inky ball in your chest anyways, thick and hot as tar. 
You shake it off. 
"Who says I don't like you?" you ask, steering the conversation away from food altogether. 
His smile gets somehow better, which is to say worse. You're being punished for something, a childhood wrongdoing or a future crime, perhaps. Nothing else could warrant the mental torture that is being so close to him while he looks the way he does. 
"Good. Good, then we should get pizza. It's a date," he says, nodding. 
Morgan the shift manager calls for him to stop distracting you, though the Hideout is abandoned tonight, and there's nothing to distract you from. Eddie stands at full height, with a soldier's salute. "Yes, sir. No more lollygagging." He turns to you when you laugh, and you share a secret smile. 
He and Morgan disappear into the back of house. If you strain your ears, you can hear Eddie complaining about having to keep his hair in a bun, as it's totally against what he stands for, dude, it's stifling his self expression. 
"Count yourself lucky I don't make you wear a hair net, kid," Morgan says.
You turn back to your sticky bar, numb. It's a date? Did he mean, like, an actual date? A romantic date? 
Not a chance in hell. It's a colloquialism. Nothing more. 
Despite yourself, you stare into the silver reflection of a beer tap and try to liven up. You fix your hair, check your teeth, dig a lip balm out of your apron pocket and scratch the corners of your mouth just in case. The entire time you're heckling yourself about delusions. Eddie Munson doesn't like you. He's had a girl come around once or twice, and she'd been everything you're not: slender, confident. You'd wanted to dislike her, but she hadn't done anything wrong. There's no crime in being desirable. 
For the remainder of the night, you man the bar and serve the occasional patron. It's a Sunday night, so most stick to light beer or soft drinks. The live entertainment says goodnight and the Hideout empties like an opened floodgate. You clean the bar, Eddie buses the tables, and the kitchen staff turn on the radio and get to work cleaning. Soon, you can smell cigarette smoke and reheated mozzarella sticks. 
You wander into the kitchen to help. 
"Hi beautiful," Leon says, one of the cooks, "you want something to eat?" 
"No she does not!" Eddie says, helping the dishwasher Marcie with her last round of plates. Suds drip down to his rolled sleeves as he waves his hands around. "We're going to get pizza." 
"Yes!" Marcie says, delighted. 
"Where are we going?" Paul asks, another cook. 
"We," Eddie says, pointing at you and then himself, "are going to Marletto's. Yeah?" 
You startle when you realise he's asking you. "Oh, sure. Anywhere you want." 
His head bobs up and down, pleased. He goes back to his dishes. "Anywhere I want," he murmurs to Marcie, though he's saying it for everybody to hear, "hear that, Marc? I'm spoiled." 
You wipe down a few counters, label some leftover iceberg lettuce and put it back in the fridge. It's easy work, made better by the camaraderie of your coworkers, but you can't settle down. Your heart races at what's to come. "It's a date," is starting to feel less colloquial now Eddie's dissuading the other from joining you. That's how that works, right? He wants to be alone with you.
It might not mean anything. Maybe Eddie needs something from you he doesn't want the others to know about, like money. Maybe he wants girl advice, finally chasing that pretty girl who drops by sometimes. Or boy advice —there's a guy who comes around too, tall and blond and handsome. 
There's a logical solution. Any other girl would hear the word date and take it at face value, but you aren't them. You're you. You can't remember the last time somebody looked at you with desire in their eyes, if they ever have. High school was a shit show and work isn't exactly a hub for romance. Eddie joining the team here is the most excitement you've ever had in your life, for all his gentle squeezes and teasing elbows, his inside jokes and his tendency to burst into an air guitar solo at any given moment. He's a cheeseball, and you like him. It sucks. 
"Hi, are you ready?" he asks, coming out of nowhere. You're kneeling down near the lockers tying your shoelaces. 
It is a horrible position for him to see you in. You can't imagine what you look like, but you know it won't be pretty. You spring up with your shoelace untied still and smile weakly. "Yeah, I'm ready." 
"You need help with that?" he asks, eyes on your shoe. 
You burn with embarrassment. "I– no, I–" 
Eddie kneels down on the floor and reaches for your shoe. He ties it quickly in a double-knotted bunny-loop and pats the side of your ankle when he's done. When he looks up at you, you're in the middle of hoping a natural disaster will occur and put you out of your misery. 
He smiles at you from his position. Does he ever stop? 
"Cool," he says, standing up. He grabs his coat from his locker and doesn't bother closing it. "Let's go! I'm starving, man, Leon needs to mess up more often so I can steal the rejects." 
You follow him in a daze. Through the lockers and out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the lingering closers and a grimacing Morgan. You aren't looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow. You're more than sure he'll have something to say about workplace fraternising and general dawdling. 
"You okay for us to take the van?" he asks. 
Eddie's given you rides home before, and what felt awkward before has lended itself to a familiarity. You nod your agreement and cross the small parking lot out back, your breath rising in the cold night air. 
Eddie pulls open the passenger door of his van with a strong-armed tug. 
"Been meaning to get the latch looked at. I'd rather it have trouble opening than trouble closing, though, so that's a plus." 
He waits for you to climb the short step and sit before he closes the door. 
“All limbs inside the ride?" he asks. 
You laugh. It comes out weird. You kind of sound like you're being held at gunpoint. 
Eddie gets in the van and makes small talk as he starts the engine and pulls her out of the lot. Your mind isn't there, exactly, or rather it's too close. You want to think about your answers but instead you're worrying about how you look while you say them. You're worried about the seat belt around your stomach, and the way you look from the side. Being around Eddie makes you more self-conscious than usual. 
Marletto's isn't the best pizza place in Hawkins but it's open until three AM. You and Eddie take the first empty booth you come across, and the agony of ordering in front of someone else begins. 
"Meat feast for me, obviously," he says, pulling off his jacket. 
The cracked vinyl seat beneath him crunches with his movement. You dedicate yourself to staying still. 
"I'll get a margarita," you say, glancing between him and the menu for his reaction.  
"Didn't take you for such a bore," he teases. "Drinks? Sides?" 
"Just water will be fine." 
"Are you sure? I'm paying. If you wanna take advantage of me, now's the time."
You shake your head, pushing your cold hands under your thighs. 
Eddie frowns. "If you're sure…" 
He gets up to track down the register. You sit there, wondering why you agreed to this, what possessed you, why you could ever think this was a good idea. You don't wanna eat in front of him, you don't know what to say, he's looking at you like everything's normal but this is so not normal, this is the opposite side of the spectrum. 
Eddie returns with your water and a coke, all smiles despite your clear nerves. 
He puts the drinks down and clambers into the seat with a leg folded underneath himself, his elbows halfway across the table. He looks you straight in the face. 
"That guy just looked at me like I was crazy. I'm hungry, sue me. Three orders of mozzarella sticks is a normal human thing to get, right?" 
"Three?" you ask. 
His hand reaches toward you. If your hand were there, he'd likely squeeze it roughly as he sometimes does, like a playful scolding. "I'm hungry," he repeats. "I didn't get any lunch on my lunch break. What's the point in that? Just sat down in the locker room thinking about it. It was actually worse than working." 
"You should've had Leon make you a burger. He's always offering." 
"Always offering you, maybe. The rest of us gotta fend for ourselves." 
"That's not true. He asks Marcie, too." 
"Yeah, well, Leon's a sucker for pretty girls." 
You look down at the table. 
"I got enough fries for both of us, I know you didn't want any sides but everyone wants fries. I won't be sharing the mozzarella sticks, so if you want some you better speak now." He raps the table with his knuckles. When you look up, his face softens. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll share them with you. I'm a sucker, too." 
"What's that mean?" 
"What?" 
"You know what," you say. 
Eddie crosses his arms across the table. His hands and arms are pale, the ink of his black tattoos stark. You could draw them without prompting, that's how often you've fallen into his trap. When he crosses his arms like this, his biceps bulge up a little bit, emphasising the pretty curves and ridges of his arms and the hints of greeny-blue veins hiding under his skin. He tilts his head toward his shoulder, his limp curls dragging against the table. 
"It means…" he says, holding your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, "that you're pretty. You're so pretty, I'd do anything you asked me to." 
You flinch. You pull your numb hands from under your thighs and cover your stomach with your forearms, glaring at the table between you thoughtlessly. 
"That's cruel." 
"What?" 
"That's cruel, Eddie. You're being mean," you mutter.
"I–" Eddie stammers. "What? I'm just trying to tell you how I think about you– how I feel. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not trying to be mean." 
Hurt creeps into the lines of your face, your eyebrows pulled down and the starts pulled up, your lips pursed. Heat bursts in your throat as a molten lump takes shape there. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you have to. 
"I thought you were my friend," you say quietly. 
"I want to be more than that." 
"You're making fun of me." 
"No." 
Eddie reaches across the table again. There's nothing for him to grab so he spreads his fingers and presses his palm flat. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are ridiculously big, the black of his pupils blown and leaching into his dark irises until they're almost indistinguishable in the fuzzy lighting of the restaurant. 
"Come on," he says quietly, "when have I ever done that to you? I mess around, but I wouldn't say shit like that unless I meant it." His fingers lift off of the table. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful." His voice takes on a raw quality. 
You bite the tip of your tongue, fully frowning now. "I don't believe you," you say. 
"Why not?" he asks, frowning back. 
"Because I'm– I'm– I'm fat." You hate yourself for saying it out loud. 
People hate that word. Usually, if you admit to it, there's a rushed response. No, you're not. Pretty friends talk you down, loved ones wrap an arm around your shoulder and harp about puppy fat or big bones. 
Eddie doesn't do either. He sits back in his seat and smiles hesitantly. 
"Why's that a bad thing?" he asks. He shakes his head at himself. "I mean– I'm sorry, I should've said you aren't, you aren't–" 
"No, I am," you say. 
"You're so pretty," he says again, in a rush. "I don't care what size you are, I really don't. I just think you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you on a real date but I saw you and I couldn't wait anymore." He wraps his hand around the neck of his coke bottles and pulls it towards his chest. "Shit, I've made a huge fucking mess of it." 
You lean forward. Your body doesn't know what to do, the whiplash of hurt smothered by his enthusiastic, sincere compliments.
Why's that a bad thing? means more than anything else he said to you. 
"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask timidly. 
"Drop dead," he says. Hope flickers behind his eyes. "Morgan pulled me aside on my second week, you know that? Said if I didn't stop staring at you he'd put me in the back for the week." 
"He did put you in the back," you say, confused. 
"Exactly." 
Oh. You raise your head properly. Eddie's watching you, just you, obviously waiting for you to speak. The hope on his face is clear as day now, his lips parted, the tiniest peek of his tongue on display. 
"You promise you aren't messing with me?" you ask finally. 
"I promise." He holds his hand out, palm up. "I swear." 
Your heart a hummingbird, you take your hand from your waist and put it carefully in his. His fingers curl around yours like a prince, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly, half an inch at a time. You exhale out of your nose as goosebumps race up your arm. 
He looks like he has more to say, but the pizza and all his sides arrive. You spring apart like teenagers, blood rushing in your ears. The server unloads his tray.
"Alright guys," he says, looking down at you both with a knowing smile. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?" 
Eddie sneaks a look at you that holds way too much meaning. "No, I think we're alright." 
There's a tiny, awkward silence. You busy yourself with unfolding a napkin over your lap, not sure what to say to bridge the gap. 
Eddie takes the plunge. 
He slides a basket of mozzarella sticks at you. "Pretty girl privileges," he says.
You feel insecure eating in front of him, but the sheer ferocity of his compliments discourages any shame. He thinks you're pretty. He held your hand like it was made of glass and he got put in Hideout jail for staring. 
"I think you're handsome, too," you say. 
Eddie almost chokes on a handful of fries. "Shit," he says, swallowing roughly, hand thumping at his chest. "Thank god for that. I mean, of course you do. My devilish good looks are hard to resist." 
He's not wrong. 
Getting put on kitchen duty isn't half as bad as Morgan seems to think it is. Eddie kind of likes it, the noise, the chaos, the heat. Plus, he can steal fries hot and fresh out of the basket. He's only burned himself once. 
"What're you in for?" Leon asks him.
"Staring." 
"You're a freak, Munson, you know that?" 
Eddie shrugs. "If your girlfriend looked like mine, you'd stare too." 
"Uh-huh." Leon grabs up a spatula to flip a burger, pink meat down and brown side up. Fat sizzles dangerously. Neither man flinches. "She ain't going nowhere." 
"You don't know that. Some rockstar might blaze through here and snap her up. Who would I be to stop her? She should be a trophy wife, she's a stunner." 
"Christ," Marcie says from across the room. 
"How the fuck can you hear us?" Eddie asks. Over the sound of the overhead spray and the sizzle of the burners, Marcie must have superpowers or something. 
"Uh, 'cause you're fucking yelling," she says. 
Eddie looks to Leon for some defence, but Leon agrees. "You are super loud." 
"You would be too–"
"If I had a girlfriend as pretty as yours," Leon says, audibly grouchy. "I know." 
"Don't be jealous that I got there first." 
"How is this fair? You get in trouble and I'm the one punished." 
Eddie blows a big breath out of the corner of his mouth, one of his shorter curls dancing away from his warm face. Ridiculous. They're all awful, and jealous, and nobody wants him to be happy. "Losers," he mumbles. 
He's kidding, mostly. He knows that everyone is actually very happy for the both of you. How could they not be? Eddie's happier than ever and you've turned to mush. It's his favourite thing in the world. 
He thought you were pretty before. These days, you're gold dust incarnate. You see him and smile like you've been waiting for him, no more nervousness (which, he found out, was down to a raging crush on him) (he walked on air for days), no more shying away from his touch. Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder and you don't tense; you melt. Butter in the sun. 
It's glorious. 
And sure, Eddie ends up in the brig a lot. He 'hovers' apparently. So what? He'll say it again, if any of these guys were in his shoes, they'd fall victim to the same compulsion. 
He waits for an opportunity to arise, four dinner tickets and a dishwasher disaster, and sneaks away as silently as he can manage, creeping out of the kitchen and to the bar. You're busy pouring a beer and don't notice him until the customer's left and he's wrapping an arm around your waist. 
"Eddie," you scold lightly, leaning forward to accommodate his weight against your back, "come on. You might actually lose your job." 
"They can't fire me. I'm the best bus boy ever." 
You turn your face to look at him. Eddie wants to put you on TV, you look that sweet. 
"No, you're awful, you," —Eddie interrupts you, leaning down for a quick chaste kiss— "distract me, and you," —he steals a second— "don't actually bus tables when you should," you finish, disjointed. 
He brings his hand to your soft cheek, stroking a badly behaved baby hair back into place. You go lax like he's some kind of quick fix drug, and your eyes contain a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He covers his heart with his hand. 
"You're awful," you murmur. 
He takes your face into both hands slowly. One cups your cheek, and the other slides behind your ear. He pulls your face forward and down toward his chin, his lips by your ear. You smell amazing. His eyes close on instinct.
"A little. It's not my fault. You're just–" 
"So pretty?" you ask. "Yeah, you've told me." 
"I have, have I? Have to let me tell you again." He kisses the skin before your ear, more a press of his lips than anything. "You're beautiful," he mouths. 
You shiver, but ultimately end up planting your hands against his chest and ushering him away from you. 
"Stop it. I mean it! We're in public, at work, and you're gonna mess me up." 
"I want to mess you up," he says easily. 
"I know you do." 
Eddie sighs, agonised, but heeds your warning. "Alright," he says, squeezing your shoulder in goodbye. You smile and squeeze his elbow in return. It's your new thing, silent conversation in fond touches. 
He's a couple of feet away when the urge to turn back is too much. He jogs back to your side, gets his hand behind your neck, and kisses you with enough pressure that your lips part underneath his in shock. He adores the side of your neck with his thumb one sweeping stroke at a time, his nose digging sliding against yours as he inches in further, and further. The dizzy pleasure of your lips can't be understated. Eddie fights back a kiss-ruining smile with all he's worth. 
"Sorry," he says, pulling back. Your lips shine and you blink, dazed. "Sorry," he says again, leaning in to kiss them dry. 
You laugh quietly, a breath against his cheek, and he's a goner, dropping pecks all over your pretty face until you're giggling and sinking into his arms. 
"I really am sorry." He punctuates with a kiss under your jaw. 
"No," you say breathlessly. Your hand twines loosely in his hair. "You're not." 
No, he isn't. He's never felt less sorry for anything in his life. 
𓆩❤︎𓆪
thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging, it helps more than you know!! <3 
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johnpriceslamb · 5 days ago
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❤︎₊ ⊹ GASP ! OH NYO ! His partner ingested some weird looking mushrooms and has turned into a bunny-girl !
𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ⋆ female ! reader ⋆ hyper-feminine ! reader ⋆ bunny girl ! reader ⋆ close proximity ⋆ reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than said chars ⋆ poorly google translates spanish >.> javi is SUPER FREAKY LOL ⋆ not proof read nor edited ⋆ wrd count/1.2k
arthur morgan . john marston . javier escuella . charles smith x fem ! reader (sep)
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❤︎₊ ⊹ ARTHUR MORGAN
“..How.. How the hell did this even manage to happen?”
Your ears droop on your head at his incredulous tone, puffy bottom lip slightly jutting out as your nimble hands fiddle with the sleeve of your frilly dress. A bit of support would be nice considering the state you’re in right now. But hell, he didn’t even have much experience with rabbits other than knowing which part of their body was durable when hunting.
His frown softens immediately at your meekness. He can’t deny it, you were utterly cute with your long cotton ears and little fur-ball of a tail from behind. Not to say that you weren’t cute before, but to adorn features from a sweet animal made you look even.. more adorable.
He can’t help the audible sigh that emits out of his throat before tiredly spreading his arms out to you, “Oh c’mere, sweet thing. Come to papa.”
His vision is immediately engulfed with your pointy ears, and the urge to just pet you stands strong. The temptation grows much stronger when he looks behind your tiny shoulder and sees your teensy cottonball of a tail wiggling delightfully at his warm embrace. He lets out a breathed hitch when your cheek rubs against his chest with a needy sniff, andddd.. His hand goes right on top of your head and scratches your head before gently running his calloused fingers around those sensitive, fluffy ears of yours.
“Theres a good girl.” He drawls out with that southern tinge of his, rubbing his hand against your back in a comforting manner to ease out those nerves of yours. His eyes dart over towards a scarf of yours which was lying on the wooden oak table he had next to his cot. With a small idea in mind, he holds a firm hand on your back and grabs the scarf. Your teeny head squished between his chest.
He ties the pink fabric around your head, hiding your long ears from the vision, though he can’t help the slight disappointment.
“Oughta wear this ‘til this,” He gestures to the prominent features, “— Is gone. Know it ain’t the most comfortable, but y’gotta make do with what you have. Y’hear me, girl?”
You nod at your partners firm words, cuddling closer to him with a small sniff. You don’t notice the fondness in his hooded eyes, the slight tightness in his arms as he holds you close to him.
“…Real cute.” He mumbles lowly, toying with your tail.
“Wut?”
❤︎₊ ⊹ JOHN MARSTON
“Heh. This some sorta new getup among the younger generation?” He snorts, hands lazily fiddling with your fluffy ears as you sit next to him closely on the log, miserable.
“…Oh. Uh.” When he realises it is in fact real, his hand freezes.
“..I mean, well.. Y’know, ‘least it suits you.” He tries to reassure you, pulling you closer by draping an arm around your dainty shoulder and scooting you next to his lean figure. Your plump lip quivers, before leaning against him for comfort. His fingers still caress your lovely long ears with a low grunt. Despite his initial two seconds of shock, he’s rolling with it. You were still.. well, you. You didn’t seem sick or cursed, he’s been through enough chaos and mishaps to really.. care about it.
“You’re not helping.” You bluntly reply, only for him to snort and murmur out a sheepish apology.
You were really squishy-looking too. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but.. just the urge to.. fit you in his palm and squeeze you really blows up inside of him. He stares at you for a few seconds or so before pinching your cherub cheek.
“Hey!” You huff, trying to wiggle away. With your squirming, his arms immediately wrap around your small waist and pull you against him, not ever wanting to let you go. You settle down soon enough when you notice that he would not budge at all.
“Y’know what? I might just collar you ‘n’ feed you some lil baby carrots f’ your lil self,” He lets out a chuckle as he lets his imagination run wild, “Hell, maybe even a cage f’you to sleep in.” He lets out a raspy bark of laughter when your foot thumps the ground out of irritation from his cruel words. You’ve just turned into some helpless creature and this is the help you get?!
“You are so mean, y’know that?” You puff out your cheeks with a little hmph, crossing your arms in front of your chest before turning around and avoiding eye contact with your partner. In return, he peppers kisses on your chubby cheek, holding you oh-so tightly!
“‘m sorry, my sweets. Can’t help it, yer just so.. cute.” A right laughter escapes his lips when your foot thumps against his leg as a sign of anger. Oh, he’s gonna have a real fun time teasing and poking you.
❤︎₊ ⊹ JAVIER ESCUELLA
The smirk on his face says it all.
You almost want to smack that cheeky smile off his face, staring at him warily with beady eyes which glistened lightly from the tears you cried out when you realised your unfortunate situation. With a defiant humph, you cross your arms and look away from him. Your ears raise as a sign of anger.
He was smiling while you were in a grumpy mood!
“Awe, mi amor.” The smirk softens on his face when he realises how upset you were, gently pulling you into his warm arms before delicately rubbing your long fluffy ears, “No need to be upset. Just a.. mm.. little mishap, eh?”
“…mmm.” You could never stay that mad at him. You reluctantly cuddle against his body with a sniff, long ears drooping. His hand comes to lightly tug at your floofball of a tail, pinching and twirling the small tuff of fur potruding through the small hole you made in your lacy skirt. He lets out a low hum of thought, wondering how sensitive it was if he were to tug on it firmly. With his impulsive thoughts in mind, his calloused fingers intertwine through the soft fur and pulls it back just slightly, earning a sweet whine from your throat.
“Lo siento,” He lets out a breathy apology against your ear, watching it twitch at the sensitivity. He softly kisses the base of your rabbit features, a smile faintly etched on his face when he sees that little tuff of fur wiggling at the back in delight. Javier was a curious man, he couldn’t help but notice and explore, questioning and doing. When his question of how sensitive your features were is answered with a ‘very so’, twisted thoughts occur through his head. How would it feel to tug on her ears back, watching those doe eyes tear up from the delicacy of your furry ears, or to grab onto them like handle bars and—
He clears his throat, before a boyish smile is seen on his features. A hand comes down to clamp your behind to push you closer to his warm body.
“You know, rabbits do tend to breed all year round..” He murmurs into your ear, watching it flicker again with a little chuckle. You can see his eyes glance down below your upper-torso for a moment before looking back at you again. You’re pretty sure he was envisioning your little self swollen with kins. Your cheeks heat up at his flirty words, before puffing your cheeks out and raising your teeny hand to pinch his cheek.
He lets out a whine in response, “Ow, ow! Hey, I was just joking!”
“Your cuddling privileges are revoked.”
He lets out a gasp of offence, “How could you?”
❤︎₊ ⊹ CHARLES SMITH
“..Oh my.”
Were the words he first uttered when he saw your situation. Thankfully for you, he was probably one of the only members in the gang who knew a thing or two about rabbits and their natural instincts and habits.
He lifts a hand to his chin, rubbing it in contemplation as his dark eyes gaze down at your sweet little self multiple times to assess how serious this was.
“You’re not hurt are you?” He asks with a tone of concern. You shake your head meekly and you see his shoulders becoming less stiff at your answer. While you aren’t hurt physically, you just can’t help but feel.. embarrassed with your situation. He lets out a low hum, arms slowly crossing in front of his chest as he looks at you with a soft glare. An instinct to nurture you and take care of you.
“Hm.. Do you remember how this happened?”
“..I ate some mushrooms Pearson cut up f’ me and put in my soup,” You explained. He looks a bit taken aback when he realised just how strange it was to just magically get rabbit ears from eating mushrooms.
“…I see.” He responds, before lightly taking your hand in his to lead you somewhere to sit.
A few moments pass which indulged in traversing to a log, you watch his hand carefully peel a carrot with a knife. Your tail happily wiggles when he offers a slice to you, watching your nimble fingers take the thin peel of the carrot skin and nibble the peel with your two front teeth. A ghost of a smile is curved lightly as he watches you nibble the peel. It was really cute.
His eyes gaze at your bunny features before looking down again. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, thus pushing down the urge to pet you. He slices the long vegetable into many pieces, before offering you the circular shaped veggies. You happily take it from his hands and nibble it, not before you offered him a slice, to which he declined with a soft shake to his head.
“Not for me, dear. All for you.” He softly says, rubbing your head with a warm hand, avoiding your ears. He knew how sensitive those long pair of fluff could be. You look at him with glistening doe eyes before munching the little snacks he gave you.
He smiles fondly at his dearly beloved being fed. He has to admit, you were very cute.
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downs1de-has-moved · 3 months ago
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I try hard to remember This prison cell used to be a shelter Now we're just looking for the best way out And I can't fight you anymore You're already one foot out the door So I'll just say what you won't say And I'll take the blame, if it's for your sake No turning back on what you can't save You're so far gone Yeah, we're so far gone
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