#and you all still find new ways to get around it by not tagging ur shit properly

[nuvomica]

hey bg3 fic writers, especially reader insert and x tav writers. if ur gonna put ur stuff in the main tag, put a fucking 'read more' in there.

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[pencil-n-pen]

I WANT AN INNOCENT LOVE

.☘︎ ݁˖

alexandria! rick grimes x fawn! fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: you’re a new addition to alexandria. Rick’s just looking out for his group. That’s the only reason he finds himself drawn to you. Nothing else.

cw: LEGAL age gap (it is big, i imagine reader in her early 20s) canon typical depictions of violence, Rick is kinda mean to reader at first, Rick kind of struggles with the age gap a little, dom! Rick, slight possessive rick

tags/tropes: shy and skittish reader, she’s not used to dealing with people but she’s not helpless, honestly she’s just a sweet and soft person who became what everyone becomes in the apocalypse, hurt/comfort, insecurity, touch-starved reader a bit, YEARNING, no saviors or whisperers just Rick and everyone living happily in alexandria. Daryl is also here and he’s kind of like ur uncle bc i love daryl and i say so

a/n: i have nothing to say other than this is so insanely self indulgent it’s not even funny. nobody asked for this but writing it has kept me sane while i’m couch ridden. everything is terrible rn but rick grimes <3333

songs i listened to while writing: We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross, Work Song by Hozier (Rick's theme song) you were mine by Esha Tewari, Do I Wanna Know- Hozier's Cover, Somethin' Stupid by Nancy & Frank Cinatra, Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley (i'm so not normal about that entire album) Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers, Little Bit by Lykke Li (the original not the remix)

title taken from Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers

₊ ⊹❀

You were just a little thing when you showed up at the gates.

All wide-eyed and skittish at the tree-line, clothes hanging awkwardly off your frame. Scuffed and dirty, when Rick goes up to the tower to scout you out.

You don’t quite come close enough for anyone to get any kind of information on you. Name, age, where you’ve been, what you’re doing at the gates.

These are all questions Rick, as leader, needs answers to.

If he could just convince you to get close enough.

Under different circumstances, he’d just let you do whatever it is you’re planning on doing, but the lurking is starting to make people uneasy. And he figured he ought to do something to ease their concerns. Easiest way is to either get you inside the walls or find answers to those questions.

You’re real good at staying out of reach, though. And you never stay in one place for long. By the time two weeks have gone by, you’ve made it around the entire length of the walls. Just to end up right where you started: the gates.

It’s just past the crack of dawn- dew is still lingering on the plants and grass and the sun’s rays have yet to actually provide warmth. Rick is up, making his rounds and checking in when one of the guards on rotation lets him know that you’re at the gates. Only time you’ve ever been that close.

So they’re opened, and you amble in— light-footed and unsure. Honestly, you remind him a bit of Daryl with your obvious hesitance to be in the company of other people and clear inclination towards nature. But where Daryl is hard edges and reclusiveness, you’re… softer.

A small group of people —curious onlookers, mostly— forms behind Rick as he saunters towards you, and he watches the moment you see the reality of your decision and begin to regret it.

He comes to a stop a few feet away from you, letting the silence hang in the air for a bit.

He finally takes you in with his own two eyes, without the aid of the binoculars, and he examines. Catalogs the nervous twitch of your hands and scuffs and scrapes he can see on the visible scraps of skin. Eyes the way you worry your lip between your teeth and can’t decide if you’re going to keep staring at him or look away- your mind clearly torn between vigilance and submission.

“You finish your tour of Alexandria?” He asks dryly.

You blink up at him, eyes wide. “Are you the leader of this safe-zone?”

He nods. “Sure am.”

You begin fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. The small motion draws his attention back to your hands, where me notices bandaids practically covering the entire surface of your skin. He files the information away in his head for later.

“Are you currently accepting new members?”

He can’t help but crack a smile at your question. The way you phrase it and your nervous demeanor remind him so much of the times before the dead started walking— you look like a college student looking for a job, not somebody trying to find refuge here, after the end of the world.

“Depends,” He rests his hands on his hips, and he notes the way your eyes dart to the gun at his side before back up to him, “You got any skills to offer? You alone? Or do you got a group waitin’ for you?”

Your lip is raw from where you release it from your teeth.

“I’m really good at mending. I’m a proficient hunter. I can hold my own in a fight. And I’m alone.”

At the admittance of your lack of company, you shift back a few steps, a subtle re-distribution of weight.

Ain’t been socialized a whole bunch, Rick thinks to himself. He’s willing to bet you either don’t have a lot of positive experiences with large groups of people or you just plain ain’t been around em’ much.

He hums. “You killed anybody?”

“Walkers or live?”

“Either.”

You shift your shoulders. He’s starting to wonder just how many nervous actions you have.

“I don’t think anybody lives alone who hasn’t killed walkers.”

“And the living?”

You don’t move, but your eyes look to the ground, not at him.

Shame. Fear.

“Twice.”

“How come?”

“They wanted my supplies. Wanted me dead. I decided I didn’t want to die.”

He looks you over again. You really are a cute little thing. He thinks, absentmindedly in the back of his head, that something like you shouldn’t have bloody, bandaid covered hands. Shouldn’t have a kill count.

But he dismisses the thought. The end of the world leaves no room for those unwilling to do what’s necessary.

He dips his head. “We’ll get you settled in,” He jerks his head to the some of the guys behind him. “They’ll get you sorted out. Get along, now.”

You slink past him, distance carefully measured as you go.

Your eyes don’t quite leave him, though. There’s a moment- either you pause or his mind slows. Maybe a bit of both. But the air stills, and your gaze locks on him for the first time since he saw you, nestled in that tree line. The memory is clear and vivid- the sun shining through the trees, dappling you in shades of amber and grey. And then he’s here, and you’re looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and the sun has risen just enough that it casts a similar glow, the only difference now he can see up close just how the light catches on your face, just how he knows your features would look so different, so much softer if you were cleaned, if someone minded the cuts and scrapes.

And then you step away, and he snaps out of his reverie. He blinks a few times at your retreating form, shakes his head, and then busy’s himself with other work. There’s always something to be done.

But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the image of you gazing up at him, bathed in the early morning sun out of his mind.

—

A few days pass, and Rick sees little of you. He’s almost positive it’s on purpose. The few times he does see you, you look scared. And then, generally, you manage to make some sort of fleet-footed escape. The repeated spotting and fleeing reminds him of the time he accompanied Daryl on a hunt and startled a doe.

He can’t quite figure out why you’re afraid of him, though. He remembers being fairly decent to you when you arrived, and tried coaxing you towards the gates politely before you’d shown up on your own.

The sight of your scared expression ends up stuck fast in his head, usually super-imposed over the image of you on that morning at the gates. Two different versions of you, neither making any sort of sense.

He decides that it’s probably best that he stick away, if he scares you. You’ll settle, your ruffled feathers’ll smooth.

And he’ll stop thinking about you.

—

Neither do you settle or does he stop thinking about you.

He watches you from a distance, careful. You just… don’t relax. Ever. You creep away from every possible opportunity to connect with others like it might grow jaws and bite- you shrink back or freeze. Like you think if you play dead, if you don’t move, they’ll leave you alone.

He’s wondering what you hoped to accomplish by seeking refuge in Alexandria if this is how you act. You’re going to have a bad go of things if this is your plan. Or maybe you plain haven’t even thought that far.

He snags Daryl’s arm as he passes by.

“Wha—“

“The new girl,” Is all Rick says, still watching you remarkably avoid everyone who passes you. “She’s real skittish.”

Daryl follows his eyeline, finding you easy enough.

“Mm. She ain’t settlin’?”

“No.”

Daryl just hums again. “Well, she ain’t got nobody, does she?”

“So?”

The hunter shrugs. “Can’t relax. Ain’t got nobody to watch her back, take a watch. She’ll settle. Might take her a bit of time.”

Rick huffs. “She’s afraid of me.”

“No she ain’t,” Daryl snorts, “And since when does Rick Grimes care whether other people like him well enough?”

Rick doesn’t respond, just keeps watching you.

Daryl follows Rick’s gaze, then breathes out a low sigh.

“She is a pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

“That is not what this is about.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Sure it’s not.“

“She’s half my age. I could damn well be her father.”

“But ya ain’t.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is the point, Rick?” Daryl sighs again, crossing his arms. “Either do something about it or move on. You got too many people dependin’ on ya for you to be eyeing up flighty young girls.”

Rick rolls his shoulders. “You make me out to be such a creep.”

The other man claps him on the shoulder. “Then stop acting like one.”

He attempts to take Daryl’s advice to heart. It’s an annoying truth that Daryl always knows exactly what Rick needs to hear. Not necessarily what he wants to hear, but what needs to be said.

And he is being creepy. He shakes his head as he walks away. Watching you, thinking about you. He can’t. That’s— you’re too young to be thinking any kind of thing like that.

No matter how there’s this half second, before you look scared, where you almost look relieved. No matter how he wants to personally take care of the bumps and scrapes on your face, wants to take off the bandaids and examine what’s beneath them.

Daryl was right. He needs to focus. Carl, Judith, everyone- they need him.

You’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

—

You’ve gone missing.

Rick has been doing his best to heed Daryl’s advice— he stopped looking for you in the crowds, stopped trying to figure you out, stopped watching you from afar. He even made a fairly decent attempt to stop thinking about you. Not that the effort proves especially fruitful, but he tried, damnit.

All of those efforts go straight out the window when Daryl tells him that no one’s seen you since yesterday.

It takes him two seconds to grab his gun and follow Daryl out the door.

He barely remembers to tell Carl where he’s going, which scares him, because he doesn’t quite understand what’s been so invasive to his mind and day-to-day activities about you. Your eyes, the soft curve of your cheek, how you might feel in his hands.

They cloud his judgment. Make him do stupid reckless things like search Alexandria high and low for any sign of you.

He doesn’t find any. He searches the place you’re staying— nothing. Only sign of life is the unmade bed and bandaid wrappers in the trashcan by the bed.

He sighs deep and low as he stands over your bed. “Think she had enough? High-tailed it?”

Daryl leans against the doorway. “Nah. She likes it here well enough. She ain’t stupid enough to leave a good thing like this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve spoken to her?”

Daryl shrugs. “Few times. She don’t like talkin’ too much, but I think she figures her and I similar.”

“She wrong?”

He scratches his beard. “A little. She fears situations and people the way a prey animal does. S’ why she’s a runner.”

Rick mulls Daryl’s words over as they scan the rest of the place but, of course, find nothing. There are no signs that you, specifically, live here. Nothing personal. Just the unmade bed and the bandaid wrappers in the trashcan.

The pair of them turn the entirety of Alexandria over in a matter of hours. He’s just about to call it quits, either wait for you to come back or send out a search in the morning when Daryl comes back over, telling him you’re at the gates.

As in, outside of them.

Opposite of how things went when you first showed up at the gates, people clear a path as he stalks towards you. They give the pair of you a nice, wide bubble. Even Daryl stays a few feet behind him.

The first thing he notices is that you’re covered in blood. From the way you’re holding yourself, most of it isn’t your own. There’s a backpack slung over your shoulder, but it’s not your usual one.

You won’t meet his eyes.

He stops an arms length away from you. “Where the hell were you?”

You shift backwards, away from him ever so slightly. “Scavenging.”

“Mhm, interestin’,” He says, rubbing his jaw, “Because the last scavenging party was yesterday. And you came back with everybody, so I’ll ask again. Where were you.”

Your eyes flick up from the ground for a moment, eying the people that have gathered to stare. He watches you mentally count them all, then attempt to put more distance between yourself and everybody else. Emphasis on attempt, because the second you take a step back, you stumble, wincing before righting yourself and going right back to scanning the crowd.

He works his jaw, anger and annoyance simmering just under the surface of his skin. He’s not going to get anything out of you here.

He grabs your wrist and turns, set in the direction of the medics.

He drags you along behind him, ignoring the little huffs or sharp intakes of pain when you walk a little too hard or too fast on your bad ankle.

You trip a few times as you go, and when you almost take Rick down with you, he sighs, pausing and turning.

The expression you give him is full of fear. He realizes, in the moment, that you might not remember where the medics are, so as far as you know, he’s angry at you and dragging you to a secluded area.

Guilt strikes him hard and fast, right in his chest.

Damn.

It’s too early to feel guilty about the random girl he allowed into Alexandria. Frightened eyes and shy nature aside.

He shakes his head once. “We’re going to see a doctor. Here, put your arm around me.”

He has to lower himself a little for you to drape your arm across the back of his neck. Your fingertips brush his shoulder, and he can feel the way you’re shaking.

It’s slow going from then on, with Rick acting as your crutches.

“Where were you? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Scavenging.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” You nudge the backpack still strapped to your back. “I was… looking for something. I can’t look for it with the others.”

“What the hell is it that you can’t look for it with the others?”

“A body.”

Your response hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

“…Family or friend?”

“Friend. Haven’t found her yet.”

Something clicks into place in his mental file about you. He feels like he just gained a new piece of the puzzle.

He readjusts your weight over his shoulder, tucking you a little closer and steadfastly pretending he doesn’t hear the little gasp you let out at the contact. Whether it was from pain or surprise, he can’t let himself think about it.

“Don’t go out by yourself. If you need to look, take Daryl with you.”

You sag a bit into him. “Okay.”

He glances down at you from the corner of his eye. You’re… pliant. You’d agreed quickly, and showed absolutely no fight or unwillingness when he, admittedly, manhandled you. You’d followed dutifully behind him and then simply allowed him to position your arms the way he wanted them.

There’s another little parasite that burrows into his brain right there. Right as he’s got you in his grip.

He slows to a stop, a little question forming in his head. He slips the arm that had been wrapped around your waist away, instead curls his fingers across your chin and jaw. He tilts your head up, looks down at your face, searching it for… something.

He meets no resistance. You only stare up at him, doe eyes blinking. He tilts your head to the left, then to right, and still, nothing.

Huh.

He lets go, and you shudder, a full body shiver. And he thinks, in this moment, that he could do whatever he wanted, and you might let him. He could break you, like this.

It’s a very dangerous thing, he decides. Because he doesn’t want to break you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants to peel back the bandaids and see what’s under them. He wants to scrub the dirt from your face and give you soft clothes —his clothes— not those tattered rags that hang off your body.

You might let him do whatever he wants, but you’re the one who holds this power over him. You’re the one who made him sick— filled his head and clouded his judgement and made him the kind of man he never used to be.

But he can’t say any of that. Can’t even act on it. Not with someone young enough to be his daughter. He has a daughter for Christ’s sake. And a son.

So he just wraps his arm back around your waist and helps you to the medics.

—

“Rick,” Daryl says one afternoon, leaned on the post on the porch, “You’re drivin’ me crazy, here.”

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help with that.”

“The fawn.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The fawn?”

“You know. That nervous little thing you keep pretendin’ you don’t want in your bed.”

“Daryl.”

The man just keeps fiddling with his crossbow. “What?”

“I can’t just— she’s half my age.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I got kids to think about, and—“

“Carl don’t give a shit and Judith is ten. Only thing she’s concerned about is sneakin’ sweets.”

He entertains the notion in his head, thinks about what pursuing you might be like.

Something occurs to him.

“She ever get close to you?”

“No,” Daryl huffs, always knowing exactly what Rick means, “Keeps about an arm’s distance away. No matter what. She’s been inchin’ closer recently, but not by much.”

His hand on your face, moving it this way and that without any resistance at all, your body pliant in his grip—

“Hm,” Is all Rick says, crossing his arms.

“Why fawn?”

Daryl shrugs. “Looks like one. Kinda acts like one, around you.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Daryl levels him with a look. “Yes, she does. And based on the way you’ve been actin’, you like it.”

He opens his mouth to refute the point because no, he doesn’t like it, he just constantly thinks about how far he could take it, what you would let him do, if he could make you his.

And then he thinks ‘oh.’ Maybe he does like it.

He drops his hands to his hips. “What exactly am I supposed to do, then?”

“I don’t know. Ain’t my area of expertise.”

“You’re the one who knows her better, said I was drivin’ you crazy.”

“So? I don’t know jack shit about romance, Rick.”

“Well, you keep calling her a fawn. How different can it be?”

Very different, his mind supplies. You know that.

Now it’s Daryl’s turn to sigh. “Don’t overwhelm her. She’s a nervous little thing, but she likes you. Once she figures out you ain’t gonna hurt her, she’ll latch on.”

“That’s specific. You deal with fawns a lot?”

He snorts. “No. I’m fuckin’ guessin’ here.”

The two men fall into silence, Daryl fiddling or cleaning his bow— Rick ain’t paying that much attention to him.

He’s thinking about you. You, you, you. Your eyes and your face and your hands and the figure you carefully keep hidden under layers of clothing, even under the hot Virginia sun.

Fawn, he thinks to himself.

Fitting.

—

He doesn’t make a plan or something stupid like that. He just thinks. And then he decides.

“You’re really coming with us?” Glenn asks, pack slung over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Rick says, holstering his gun, “Goin’ stir crazy in there. Just needa get out for a bit.”

You’re quiet as you get your things in order, but the group doesn’t bat an eye. They’re used to your silence, it seems.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, though. You look away every time you think he’s looking at you, but he’s good at looking at you out of the corner of his eye, so he sees it.

Throughout the run, you hover near him, never quite going out of range of his field of vision. He’s impressed by how quietly and efficiently you work- you spot things even he wouldn’t have. All the while watching for walkers, and of course, subtly eyeing Rick.

Despite being the leader, he heads up the back and watches for stragglers. He didn’t really come out cause he was stir-crazy, anyway.

He came out for you. He wanted to watch you work, wanted to do it with you.

To your credit, you work well with the others. You’re a woman of few words with them, but you help where you can and stay civil. Even if you don’t quite get close to any of them.

Except Rick.

As they’re scavenging an abandoned house, a few walkers shuffle out from the trees. Not enough to be a problem— the group outnumbers them easy. But you’re all busy getting supplies and he’s trying to keep an eye out, so he takes them out, one by one.

It really isn’t a huge thing for him, couple walkers ain’t really a big deal, but you notice.

Your eyes are trained on him, clothes now dirty with blood and gore.

He tilts his head, then makes his way over to you.

“You, um,” You say as he gets closer, voice a little hoarse, “Are you alright?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. It’ll take more than a few walkers to take me out.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He snorts a little laugh. “You ain’t too good at this whole conversation thing, huh?”

You flush, looking away. “Sorry. I’m just not… used to having them.”

You look up at him, earnest. “But I’ve been practicing!”

Oh, lord have mercy over his poor soul. You’ve done a full 180– turned from being afraid of him to very obviously wanting his approval.

“That’s good, that’s good. Who you been practicin’ with?”

“Daryl.”

“Now, that ain’t no good.”

You frown, shifting in place. “It’s not?”

“Well, it’s good that you’re tryin’,” He amends, “But Daryl ain’t good for conversation practicin’. He’s a little too much like you. Much too inclined to just sit in silence.”

“Oh.”

You pause, taking your lip between your teeth and mulling something over in your head.

“Would you, um.” You look up at him, clearly nervous.

And he can’t help himself really, from leaning down into your space a bit, a low “Hmm?” humming from his chest.

Your reaction is instant. This close, he can see the exact moment a flush crawls across your face, to even the tips of your ears.

And he’d suspected, you know, based on your behavior with him. But this— cold hard evidence that he makes you nervous. That you want him on you.

It’s cute. Real cute.

You steel yourself against your own nervousness, and he wants to coo at you.

“Would you practice with me?”

He leans back against the post, slides his hands into his pockets. “Course. Ain’t much to it.”

You smile. It’s small, a quiet sort of thing, but it’s there. He made you smile.

You gesture to the house behind you. “I’m. Gonna go back to scavenging. Um. Thanks.”

You turn on your heel, fleeing back into the house. He watches you go, something settling right into place in his chest.

You stick a little closer to him for the rest of the run.

—

After that day, you begin seeking him out. You don’t approach him right away, preferring to to trail behind him for a little bit before finally making a move.

The move being a quiet: “Hi, Rick.”

Today’s no different, other than it being a little later when you do find him. He’s taking a little stroll around, as is his usual. It… settles him, to see everything alright with his own two eyes.

Settles him even more when he hears the quiet patter of your footsteps behind him.

He chuckles. “Afternoon, darlin’.”

Your foot steps speed up, fall into step somewhat beside him. “Hi, Rick.”

“Hi,” He says, smile tugging at his lips. “How was your day?”

You clasp your hands behind your back as you walk. “Good. Weren’t many walkers on today’s run. I got something for Judith.”

“Oh? Let’s see it, then.”

You take something out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

It’s a pocket knife. One of those multi-tool ones.

And it’s pink.

“I know it’s a cliche, the girls knife being pink, and she is only ten, but I saw it and I thought of her, and—“

“It’s perfect,” He interrupts before you can start spiraling. “She’s gonna love it.”

You deflate almost instantly. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure.”

You walk for a few minutes before remembering the point of you coming up to him.

“Um. How was your day?”

He huffs a little, too fond to be upset. “Fairly decent. Ain’t got too much going on now.”

“That’s… good?”

He shrugs. “Just a little borin’. How’s that ankle of yours?”

This is usually how your conversations go. A few easy, back and forth questions. Easing you into talking to people, keeping conversations going. You’ve slowly gotten more confident. You talk a little longer, voice sounds a little more expressive.

“Fine.” You say, a little too quickly.

He narrows his eyes. “Really? No pain at all?”

It’s the looking away that sells it. You never look at him when you’re lying. Can’t stand to.

“No. It’s fine.”

He kicks his foot out a little, the toe of his boot just barely catching your ankle.

It’s a little more effective than he wanted. You let out a little yelp of pain and stumble forward, ankle almost immediately buckling.

He darts forward, catching you under the stomach with one arm.

You hang there a little, arms dangling.

“Fine, huh?” He hefts you up, so you’re back to standing upright, though now, visibly favoring your ankle. “So what’d the doctor tell you when I dropped you off?”

“Rest, ice, compression, and elevation.”

“And which of those four have you been ignorin’?”

“…”

“Hey,” He says, tapping the side of your jaw with two fingers. “Don’t lie to me.”

“All of them,” You wince, “I just didn’t want to be useless. I can walk on it fine. You haven’t even noticed until now!”

Your voice goes a little high at the end, a little desperate.

He thinks about how animals that are lower on the food rung don’t show pain. A deer will break a leg and keep walking until it drops, till it slows too much and something picks it off.

But you ain’t an animal, and nothing’s gonna pick you off.

“That’s true,” He says, “But that don’t make it right. You’re just prolonging the healing process.”

You look down. “…You were mad. I didn’t want to make you more upset by being useless.”

Ah. So that’s what it’s all about.

His approval, once again.

“I’d rather have you useless for a week than useless forever because you didn’t rest properly,” He ignores the hypocrisy of it, the fact that he’s ignored medical advice more times than he can count.

“I really am fine, mostly,” You say meekly, “It’s stopped hurting when I walk. It’s just a little unstable.”

“I still want you taking it easy for a little, you hear me?”

You nod.

“Nah,” He moves, standing in front of you, more than a little in your personal space, “I wanna hear you say it. Use your words.”

It’s a little test of sorts. To see how you’ll respond. What you’ll say. If you’ll listen.

You swallow, eyelashes fluttering. “I hear you. I understand.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Take it easy.”

“That’s right,” You’ve been nice and obedient, so he figures you deserve a little reward. “Good girl.”

He hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your eyes get a little glassy.

Aw, that’s all you wanted. Just wanted to be someone’s good girl.

His good girl.

He nods towards your place. “Get along, now. Do I have to walk you to your door?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll go. I will. Uh— bye.”

He watches you scamper away, gait a little uneven, hands clenched at your sides.

I can get used to this.

—

It becomes a little thing, after that.

When you’re not busy with your own responsibilities, you’re usually with him. Either right beside him, or trailing a few feet behind. Your company is quiet and calm, like waves from a lake lapping gently at the shore.

You also begin to settle in with the rest of the group. You’re still more inclined to be near Rick or, if he’s not available, Daryl, but once you become comfortable talking with people, Maggie and Glenn are quickly added to your slowly growing roster of safe people.

Judith has loved you ever since she found out that you’re the one who gave her the most beloved pink pocket knife, and enjoys babbling and talking your ear off about nothing the way that ten year olds do.

Carl grows to appreciate your presence too, finding solace in the fact that you don’t feel the need to fill silence with conversation.

You still act different when Rick is around, though. Especially when it’s just the two of you.

With everybody else, you’re subtly but very strictly independent- despite growing close with the group, you still maintain a slight distance with most of them, and prefer doing things yourself, by yourself. Old habits die hard, he supposes.

But when you’re alone, just Rick and you, those hard edges soften, and your little personal bubble pops. He’s steadily growing obsessed with the change.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. Having such a cute little thing follow him around, hanging off his words. Most days, it’s all he can do not to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed.

And then one day, he does. Kind of.

It must be the middle of the night, but the second he hears the knock at his door, he’s wide awake.

He hushes both Carl and Judith back to bed, then creeps to the front door with his hand on his gun. He has never, in his entire life, been awoken in the middle of the night to good news.

When he opens the door he sees you. And Daryl, but he’s really focused on you. You’ve got tears streaming down your face, you’re wearing a strange combination of sleep clothes and the clothes he’s seen you wear to do runs. Your boots are on, but not tied.

“Wha—“

“Caught her sneaking towards the gates, all shaken up. Figured it’d be wiser to take her here then back to her place.”

Daryl pats your head once. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Then Daryl’s gone, and you’re standing on Rick’s porch, still crying.

“Alright, come here now.”

He barely manages to get the door closed before you fall into him, face pressed to his chest and hands grasping the front of his shirt.

He hesitates for just a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“Shh, shh. You’re alright, you’re alright now.”

He presses one hand to the nape of your neck, keeping you tucked close as you crack, just a little bit, nearly silent tears staining his shirt and tremors wracking your body.

Eventually, he guides you over to the couch, situates himself before helping you into a more comfortable position. He wraps your arms around his neck, your legs draped across his lap and the couch.

He keeps one hand pressed to your neck, the other rubbing slow circles on your back.

He presses his cheek to the crown of your head, breathing in deep and slow, a curl of satisfaction rising in his chest when you unconsciously mimic his breathing, silent sobs slowing, tremors fading.

Once you’ve calmed down enough, he speaks.

“What’s got you so worked up, huh? What happened sweetheart?”

The pet name slips out of his mouth unbidden, but honestly, he wouldn’t take it back.

“Nightmare,” You sniffle. “Daryl was gone and it was my fault and you hated me.”

“Well, none of that happened now, did it?”

You shake your head.

“No, that’s right. Daryl’s just fine, and I ain’t upset with you. You’re alright.”

You take in a few shaky, shuddering breaths.

He shifts, readjusting and tucking you closer to him. “Now, how come you didn’t come to me? Daryl said you were headin’ to the gates.”

You go a little rigid. “Didn’t think I was allowed. Didn’t want to wake you up for something stupid.”

“Oh, none of that now,” He nudges you away a little, taking your face in his hands. He needs eye-contact while he says this, “You need something, you come to me. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what time it is. You come to me, you understand?”

You nod, lip wobbling a bit. “I understand.”

He thumbs your cheekbone. “Good. Now come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

In the morning, the kids are a little surprised to see your rumpled form at the kitchen table, but both recover fairly quickly. Judith especially, who rejoices at the prospect of someone other than Carl or her father whom she can hold hostage with inane, ten year old questions.

But you never quite shake that haunted look in your eyes. Like there was something else— something more in that nightmare, something that dug its little claws in and stuck fast.

It’s all he can do but pray it doesn’t last.

—

It becomes an unspoken thing that wherever Rick is, you’re nearby. Kind of like a little puppy, following him about and hoping for a treat.

He indulges you, because he can’t really help himself in the face of those eyes.

He also knows it’s the easiest way to get you to smile, which he’s been trying to bring about more, since the nightmare. You’ve shaken that haunted expression for the most part, but every now and then, it’ll come back, if just for a few moments.

You’ve been absent most of the day today, off on a run, and he wishes it didn’t get under his skin so much to not have his favorite girl right there behind him.

You’re his stress relief, and you don’t even know it. Don’t even do anything really, just kind of linger about with your adorable little face and occasionally help with your cute little hands. He’s hopelessly obsessed.

You’re smiling when you get back, bee-lining straight for him.

“Well, well,” He says, resting his hands on his hips, “What do we have here?”

“I got you something,” You say, practically vibrating with excitement, slinging your backpack off and rifling through it.

“Oh, something for me? Can’t wait to see it.”

You pull an honest to god polaroid camera out of your bag.

“You said once that you wished you had pictures of your kids to carry with you, and I found this, and it still works, and it still has film in it. I checked.”

You thrust it out to him, and he extracts it carefully from your hands, holding it with an almost reverence.

A camera. A working film camera.

You shuffle in place, and he realizes he’s been staring at it in silence for more than a few minutes. “…Do you like it?”

“I love it,” He says honestly, voice just a little scratchy, because he doesn’t understand how someone can survive the zombie apocalypse, and still end up so damn kind, and so damn sweet. “I’m so touched, sweetheart.”

You beam up at him. If you had a tail, you’d be wagging it. He’s never understood cuteness aggression until this very moment. He just can’t. He wants to squeeze you as hard as he can or just punch a wall or some stupid shit.

God, he’s pushing forty, he needs to get this under control.

“I was really excited when I found it. Tara took a picture of me to test it.”

You pull out a little polaroid picture, film developed, and he takes that with reverence too. In the picture, you’re smiling, that same soft, little smile you do when you’re really happy about something and don’t know how to express it. Your hands show two peace signs, a knife clutched in one.

That’s my girl, he thinks.

“Might just have to keep this,” He says, dumb smile on his face.

“Really?”

“Really. You know, it’s good luck to keep a picture of a pretty girl with you.”

“Pretty?” You squeak, flushing. It’s so easy to make you flustered. He loves it.

“Mhm,” He says, tucking the photo into one of the compartments on his belt, keeping it safe. “Real pretty, I’d say.”

“Oh.” You say, more than a little breathless. “Um.”

Oh, your poor little brain.

“You need a minute?” He snorts.

“Maybe?”

He chuckles, patting the top of your head. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Better get used to it.”

“You’re pretty too,” You blurt, then your eyes widen comically. “No, wait, I meant—“

He laughs, a real, actual laugh. “Me, a grown ass man- pretty. That’s a good one.”

You bury your face in your hands, a tiny little whine escaping your throat.

“Aw, come on, now. Don’t be embarrassed. I’m very flattered you think I’m pretty.”

“S’ not what I meant.” You mumble.

“No?” He says, prying your hands off your face. “What’d you mean, then?”

You look away, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re… handsome.” You whisper the last part, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Aw, what’d I do to deserve a young thing like you thinking an old man like me is handsome?”

You mumble something again, a little too quiet for him to hear.

“…afe.”

He leans down. “What was that, now?”

“You’re safe.”

Oh.

That’s… not the answer he was expecting.

But he likes it.

Rick is a leader. A protector.

And you need him.

“I make you feel safe?” He hums, resisting the urge to step closer to you because you’re very much out in the open and he knows how you feel about wide open spaces, especially when there’s people in them. He’s torturing you enough as it is. “That why you linger around me, huh?”

Feeling bolder at his interest, you nod.

“You make me feel like… something special. Protected.”

Yes.

He’s always known that he needs to be needed. That he’s the kind of man who requires being a leader, taking care of what’s his, protecting.

To have verbal confirmation that he’s made you feel safe, protected, it’s.

Well it’s a lot more than he can unpack in front of the gates.

“Pretty little thing like you needs protectin’.”

You frown.

“Not because you’re incapable,” He amends, hands raised, “But because I rather like doing it.”

You lean closer, and he follows, heat rising—

“Please, save us all the pain of havin’ to watch, Rick.”

He grins, nose brushing yours, then steps back.

“Maybe stop creepin’ around, Daryl.” He calls to the other man, who just shrugs, ambling on by.

But Daryl does have a point. He doesn’t want an audience. You’re not that kind of girl.

Instead, he reaches down, snakes an arm around your waist and leads you away from the open space, towards his house instead.

“Come on, sweetheart. Think you’d rather be somewhere quiet for what I’m about to do.”

The heat radiating from your body and the shiver he feels under his palm is all the confirmation he needs.

His little fawn, finally his.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[almostempty]

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add  

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3! 

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls! 

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest. 

“Anymore?” 

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point? 

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you. 

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you. 

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized. 

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you? 

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing. 

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead. 

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock. 

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his. 

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat. 

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath. 

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time. 

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk. 

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure. 

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave. 

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan. 

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating. 

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath. 

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives. 

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure. 

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn. 

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing. 

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him. 

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.” 

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?” 

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth. 

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.” 

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy. 

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.” 

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled. 

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes. 

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.” 

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name. 

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length. 

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless. 

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him. 

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself. 

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight. 

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking. 

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?” 

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move. 

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer. 

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you. 

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore. 

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now. 

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip. 

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next. 

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.” 

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly. 

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness. 

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.” 

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre. 

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you. 

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void. 

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you. 

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word. 

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track. 

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath. 

Maybe he does know. 

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

[moonshapedbox]

swan shaped heart

arthur morgan x preacher’s daughter 

a/n: whew! this story is finally leaving the confines of my drafts and i’m so happy!!! it’s longer than I anticipated it would be but ultimately decided that this will be a series. longer chapter to start with to set up the storyline. extremely self indulgent bc i want a man like this. reader is pretty freaky but we’re all adults here okay sdfjkf special shoutout to @dilf-luvr-4evr who wanted me to tag her, tysm to u and to my other dear moots for hyping me up and encouraging me to write !!! ok i think that’s everything! :D

tags: reader is in her twenties, lots of fluff, hint of age gap, ton of romantic tension. no blasphemy bc i���m religious <3 hands..lots of hands (you’ll see) no smut but heavily suggestive, lots of religious themes throughout obviously, no use of y/n (I wrote in 3rd person hehe), read at ur own discretion !!!

wc: 6.5k

part one

He arrived in a little town 15 minutes outside Valentine– couldn’t remember the name of it nor did he care. Hell, he didn’t know why he was riding there or what he was going to do when he did get there, but he was exhausted from casing banks and stores, or sizing up the potential jobs in the area, he needed a place to rest.

He looks up at the sky, the sun had just gone behind the mountain; he was too far from camp to head back now, there was no reason to risk being caught in any attacks from rival gangs if he were to travel during the night. The slight breeze was cool and wet, there was rain coming. He needed to find shelter–and quick.

The town hardly changed at all since he last visited 4 years ago, maybe a fresh coat of paint on the post office or the new signage on the general store–it was like time stood still. As he rode into town, there were a few people who knew him, giving him subtle nods as he rode past, others not at all. He found some lodging to stay in overnight and took inventory of his saddlebags, counting all the things he lacked. He decided it was smart to make a run. Soon enough, he secured his horses outside the general store, only buying a couple things before he left town again in the morning, enough food to last on the trip and a new pack of smokes.

He got what he needed and packed his saddlebags– when his eyes met with the church. He wondered how she was doing, what she looked like now, if she even remembered him at all—the preacher’s daughter. He heard a lot of stories about preacher’s kids; lascivious, wild and unruly. Although she was different– an honorable woman, who took everything her father taught her to heart, and tried to be her best when the Bible instructed it. Her even-tempered and friendly demeanor was like a calming balm on his aching soul. It was something so refreshing, so sweet in comparison to the life he was living. If life was a long and painful drought, then this woman was the rain– and he needed rain desperately. 

“Mr. Morgan?” a voice broke him out of his train of thought. Mr. Morgan. That voice–he’d know that voice from anywhere. He looked back and sure enough there she was, standing there with her ruffled white dress, burgundy boots with laces wound up snug against her ankles, and a dainty swan pendant necklace that adorned her neck, glimmering in the western sun. 

He inhales into a small grin, “Well, I reckon I know you from somewhere” he smirks. “How you doin’ little lady?” She squeals loudly and hurries over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a friendly embrace, “I can’t believe you’re here I thought you’d never come back,” she says, holding onto him for a moment longer before he pulls away. “Can’t have you be huggin’ me like that in the street or else people’ll think we’re sweet on each other” he jokes. She finally steps back to look at him and there’s a beat of silence, so short that if you were to exhale you’d miss it, but Arthur picks up on it. It’s awkward, in a sweet way. She looks down for a moment before looking up at him again, “Town missed you Mr. Morgan, where you been?” she asked. 

He felt guilty at the question. He’d been robbing, scheming, hurting, killing. Although he couldn’t tell her all that, she’s a preacher’s daughter. He felt so surely that if she ever found out what he did for a living she’d shun him for the rest of his life, “Uh, work mainly. You know how it is darlin’,” he replied, putting a lit cigarette up to his lips, taking a drag. 

“How long you plannin’ on stayin’ for?” she questioned, looking at his face for any clues to why he’s here. He shrugs, honestly he wasn’t planning on staying for long at all but since she’s standing right in front of him, with big glossy eyes and the hint of her sweet orange and vanilla perfume catching every now and again with the slight breeze– he couldn’t say no. 

“Not long darlin’, just for the night and then I leave in the mornin’,” he explains, that should give him enough time to visit without raising suspicions. She flashes him a melancholic smile and nods, wishing that he’d stay longer. She never got a chance to spend any time with him when he came to visit for the first time. 

Arthur Morgan–what a man, it would be an honor to get to know him behind his mysterious and aloof nature. To know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, she wanted to be the one to break his walls and scoop into his soul. Her mind starts to race with thoughts as her eyes gloss over his features: warm dark blonde hair, big blue eyes and scruffy beard–he was perfect.

He gets even more handsome than the last time I’ve seen him. He must have a girl–there’s not a woman on earth that hasn’t claimed him for herself yet. I wonder if he thinks I'm pretty…Lord, he’s so much older, so much more experienced– what am I thinking I ain’t got a chance. 

“You okay darlin’?” his voice broke her train of thought, she watched him put the cigarette back to his lips. She nods, “You was always an inquisitive one.” she teases, trying to change the subject. He raises his eyebrows and scoffs playfully, he never thought of himself as the inquisitive type. “I could say the same for you missy…’sides why’s your Daddy lettin’ you in town all by your lonesome?”

“I’m just going to get a couple things, we ran out of some food back at the house,” she explains, kicking some of the dirt on the ground with her foot. Arthur nodded slowly, he was nervous. Why was he so nervous? Words not coming to him with such ease, that beat of familiar silence encompasses the air again. She looks over at the entrance of the general store, “Well, I guess I must go now, it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Morgan.” she softly bows her head and turns away. The sight of her leaving pains him, even if it’s just for a moment. There is something stirring in Arthur. Something big and explosive —yet strangely familiar. Before he can even think about what he’s saying, he hears the words leave his mouth, “Wait– I’ll go in with ya.” he says, stamping out his cigarette and catching up beside her, “it ain’t safe… a young lil thing like you by yourself.”

She stops and looks up at his big looming figure standing next to her, “I can manage just fine Mr. Morgan, but I will not turn down your company.” She quietly thanks the Lord under her breath and enters the store with him. She greets the shopkeeper while he follows her around, making mental notes of the stuff she’s buying, looking over her shoulder for trouble so she doesn’t have to.

“Y’know Mr. Morgan, you were our hero 4 years ago…helping us round up all our missing cattle that those awful Montgomery boys stole from us.” 

Hero? A title that he rarely heard attributed to him. Her words transported him back to that time. He couldn’t believe it had already been 4 years since a trembling, fresh faced, beautiful young woman begged him to take care of some seemingly rotten men. Men that did nothing but terrorize the town by fighting, stealing, and getting into all sorts of debauchery– including looting and descrating her father’s church. As the tears ran down her soft and supple cheeks, she didn’t know that the man she was pleading to help save them from misery– was planning to rob her townsfolk and shoot them dead if needed to. A plan that would inevitably fail, all because his heart got the best of him.

He blinked back out of thought, “It was nothin’ really. It was nice spendin’ the week in only one place for once– speakin’ of them boys; they been givin’ you any trouble lately?” he exhaled, scanning over her features. “No, you must have scared them real good Mr. Morgan, ‘cause I haven’t seen them since.” she replies, checking the pears for bruises.

Of course, because he shot them dead. 

“Well…maybe they moved away.” he gestures vaguely. She smiled politely and continued to shop for the ingredients she needed. She fidgets with her swan pendant necklace and he picks up on this small habit too–trying to etch every aspect of this woman in his mind so he’ll never forget. When she had gotten all she needed, he offered to pay for her groceries. A gesture that restored her faith in man. She insisted it wasn’t necessary but Arthur paid for them anyway. As they walk back out, they loiter around the front of the store for a moment.

 “Thank you for courting me Mr. Morgan, y’know you really didn’t have to.”

“Oh sure, I wanted to, really.” he smiles softly. 

They gaze at each other for a moment before she smiles back, “It was nice seeing you again Mr. Morgan. God bless you.” 

He nods and smiles back, watching her walk away, wicker basket of groceries cradled in the crook of her arm. He sighs to himself, it was all so soft and so sweet, truthfully, he needed this. As he began walking over to his horse, thinking over the interaction, a soft ping of metal reverberated against the wood paneling on the steps. He looks down by his foot and a glimpse of something bright catches his eye, he picks it up and studies it. 

It’s her swan pendant necklace. 

“Shit…” he mumbles to himself. He looks around the building to see if he can catch up with her but it’s too late. He sighs and gives it another look over. The picture of the elegant swan on the pendant with gold trim perfectly catching the sunlight stared back at him. It was a beautiful pendant– while her family wasn’t dirt poor, he knew her folks were certainly not rich, especially given her father’s profession. There was no way she could have the money to buy this on her own–this must have been a family heirloom. He shoves it in his pocket for safekeeping.

That evening, the rainstorm he predicted was currently pounding against the glass of the window in his room. He shuts the door behind him and thuds himself down heavily on the side of the bed. He starts to rub his eyes, watery from exhaustion, with his index finger and thumbs. The events of the day weighed heavy on him, from having to stay overnight, to having to go back to camp empty handed, it was like a weight of stress was congregating in his chest. Despite all of this, the image of her stayed in the back of his mind. She looked well off and healthy, getting to see her after so long was pleasant to say the least. He sighs deeply and kicks his boots off. 

He lays on the bed, adjusting his weight to the mattress to get comfortable. He feels something in his pockets that prod at his hip, before reaching back in only to pull out the preacher’s daughter’s necklace. While he knows it’s just an object, he shares a moment with it— reminding him of its owner. Oh how pretty she looked today, like an angel. She smelled so sweet, her smile so soft, she was divine in so many ways. He thought of how the cool enamel of the pendant would touch her warm skin. His mind starts to wander, thinking about her only wearing the pendant, how it would glimmer under the low light of a bedroom, as he caresses her soft, untouched skin. Guilt stops him for a moment, and he curses himself for thinking such a thing– this was the preacher’s daughter he was thinking about. It would never work and he knows it, she’s forbidden fruit–but there’s something that courses in his veins, something that makes his mouth water for just a small bite.

He lovingly caresses the pendant with his thumb, the ghost of a smile visits his lips. Strangely enough, he found himself dreading to give it back to her. The pendant was expensive enough that he could have just sold the damn thing and went on his way–or at least that’s what Micah would insist him to do. Although he would never inflict such cruelness on this innocent daughter of the Lord. No–he didn’t want the pendant for monetary gain, all he wanted a little memento to remember her by. He closes his eyes and places the softest kiss on the enamel of the pendant before opening his eyes again. 

“The preacher’s daughter, of all women–,” he mumbles to himself, “you sure know how to pick ‘em…don’t ya?” He exhales as he rolls over, before placing it on the nightstand. He stares at it once more before putting out the candle.

“Goodnight girl.”

The next morning, Arthur finds himself on her porch, the sun barely cracking the sky open. He knocks a rhythmic pattern on her front door, and clears his throat. He’s nervous–strangely enough. He sniffs a few times and clears his throat again. He looks down at his hands and takes another glance at the pendant, he’s shaking just a bit. He should have been back on the road by now, but here he was, waiting for the preacher’s daughter to answer the door. What was taking her so long? Maybe this was a sign from God that he should just leave and take the pendant with him–the door swings open, he shoves the pendant back into his pocket before she can see, her eyes widen at his presence.

“Mr. Morgan!” she smiles with bewilderment. Arthur looks her over– she’s stunning even for so early in the morning. He takes his gambler's hat off and holds it against his chest, “Morin’ little lady,” he responds, “I–uh, found something yesterday,” he reaches into his pocket and extends the pendant out in his hand, “I think it might be yours.”

She audibly gasps and places her hand on her chest before clutching the pendant, “Oh my stars, I have been looking for this everywhere I was sure it got lost forever!” she beams with excitement, “Praise God you found it! Where was it?” 

“Outside on the steps in front of the general store,” he replies. She lovingly stares at the pendant before looking back up at Arthur. She pauses and opens her mouth to say something, before closing it again. He cocks his head at her in confusion, she exhales and starts over, “You want to come in for a bit?”

Arthur grimaces and shakes his head, before exhaling, “Ah, I don’t know about that darlin’, I’ll gotta be gettin’ a move on. Besides I ain’t wanna intrude on y’all’s activities.” 

“Oh I insist! I know, Papa would love to see you,” she explains. Her father would love to see him? He mentally rolls his eyes at her naivety. While it was true that the preacher didn’t actively hate Arthur, he wasn’t fond of him either. She frowns at his disbelief that laid evident on his features, “Really Mr. Morgan! I’m serious, let me repay you for finding my necklace.” 

“Just a little bite before you go,” she smiles and sways her hips innocently. “I’m sure you’ll have a long journey back and you gotta eat, right?” 

He sighs and smiles softly in return, “Okay. I guess I do gotta eat…just as long as I ain’t intrudin’.” He shifts his weight on one hip.

“Not intrudin’ at all. Breakfast is almost ready, come on in and make yourself comfortable.” she stands by the door and watches his big and broad figure walk through the threshold, “You’ll have to forgive Papa for his temporary absence, he’s in his room finishing the last part of his sermon. so I’m afraid it’ll be just us for now.” she says, closing the door behind them as she leads him into the kitchen. He was more than okay with that. It was already nerve wracking enough sitting alone with her, he didn’t need anymore stress from her father picking him apart in his head, cataloging all the sins that he’s riddled with.

He looks around the living room as he follows her into the kitchen. The house is quaint yet congenial–just how he would imagine a pastor to live. The scent of breakfast wafting through the air was wonderful, he hadn’t had a proper meal in days. He does what she says and makes himself comfortable at the table as she returns to the stove to gently stir the contents of the pan before joining him. 

He sees the Bible open on the kitchen table, assuming she was reading it while she was cooking, “Didn’t mean to interrupt your routine,” he gestures to the table. She adjusts herself at the table and meets his eyes, “Nonsense, you’re not interrupting anything,” she picks up the Bible, and quietly continues to read, “I just like to read a little bit of scripture in the morning to get my day started. Let me finish this passage real quick.” 

Arthur didn’t mind, he sits and fidgets with his lighter for a moment. After a few beats of silence, he puts his arm on the table and leans, trying to see what she was reading on the page, “So what’s it say?” 

She giggled at his curiosity before clearing her throat, “It says, ‘Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you,’ that’s Esphesians chapter four, verse thirty-one and two.” She smiles softly. 

Arthur nods, it all sounded lovely to hear. Although bitterness, wrath, and anger was all he was filled with– he couldn’t remember the last time he felt any differently. He felt like his whole life was one big sorry situation, tired of the ache of ruminating over the things that had gone wrong, people he lost, and regrets that plagued him. He was mad at everyone and everything. In Arthur’s case, forgiveness felt like water that was just out of reach for him. The thud of her closing the Bible jostles him back into the moment, he watches her get up and place the book back on the shelf in the living room.

“Y’know, you’re good at that.” he calls out to her, adjusting himself in the chair, his hips bucking forward a tad to get comfortable.

“What. Reading?” she calls back from the living room before walking back to where he was.

“Sure. If I was guaranteed you’d be the one preachin’ then maybe I’d start goin’ to church.” he smirked.

A rosy pigment of blush spread across her cheeks, “Now Mr. Morgan, what exactly is that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know Papa has wonderful sermons.”

That’s not what he meant– her obliviousness to his gentle flirting was endearing, he chuckles to himself. “I don’t doubt it darlin’” he mindlessly fidgets with his lighter again. 

“--Hey, that’s a wonderful idea. Why don’t you come to church with me this morning?”, she inquired, “You can sit next to me the whole time.”

His eyes widened before grimacing at the idea, that really wasn’t the best move considering who he was–although she was none the wiser, “I don’t know ‘bout all that, darlin’...” He hadn’t stepped foot in church since–well since the last time he saw her 4 years ago. “Why not?” she asks innocently, her big eyes gazing back at him. “If it’s about how you’re dressed the congregation won’t mind.”

He looks down at his attire and exhales a chuckle through his nose, mentally rolling his eyes at her assumption, “It ain’t about the clothes… it’s–” he sighs in between his words, “you know church..ain’t my thing,” he rubs his jaw, thinking over how awkward it would be to sit at one of those pews. 

“How do you know if it ain’t your thing if you don’t try?” 

He scans her soft features, “I been around a lot longer than you, trust me on this.” 

She gazes back at him and nods, walking back to the stove to finish preparing breakfast. There was a significant amount of silence that unaccounted for, Arthur who usually didn’t mind the stillness of the morning, grew restless in his chair.

“So…uh..whatcha makin’?” he asked, trying to find something to talk about. 

“Biscuits and gravy” she replied, stirring the gravy in the saucepan to keep it from burning. 

“Sounds good, ain’t had biscuits and gravy in a long time,” he taps his fingers against the table rhythmically.

Arthur was never good at small talk– he wasn’t like Dutch in that respect. That man could talk his way out of a death sentence, and God did he wish he had Dutch’s silvertongue right about now. Instead, he silently watched her cook, as a warmth spread in him. She’s wearing her Sunday best– and he notices the way her dress hugged her body and her bodice cinched her beautiful figure, how concentrated she looked when she was taking the biscuits out of the wood-burning oven, it strangely felt like home. For a moment, he forgot he was some outlaw, but just a simple man in the kitchen with his beloved. 

“Mrs. Hawthorne was askin’ about you yesterday. She saw you ride into town” her voice snapped him out of his trance, he grunted an acknowledgement, “The lady who was convinced her dolls were talkin’ to her?” he replies.

“Well she– now wait there Mr. Morgan she certainly does no such thing,” she explains, “That was just a rumor.”

“Ain’t a rumor if I seen her do it,” he laughs, “Sometimes she talks back to ‘em. Gives ‘em funny voices.”

“That’s not funny Mr. Morgan,” she frowns, trying not to laugh, wooden spoon still in hand, “Besides it’s not right to gossip.” 

“What’d I say?— Oh so it’s not okay to gossip but it’s okay to laugh at her expense? I get it now…” he jokes. She turns away, hiding her face from him. He stands up and saunters over to her, “Don’t think I ain’t seein’ you fight back a laugh. You think it’s funny too.” He chuckles. She eventually bursts out in laughter, the original joke not even that funny, it was something about his tone that tickled her. Suddenly, they both erupt in big laughter together.

The atmosphere in the room is light and airy–like both of them could breathe for once. “I think the gravy is done, you wanna taste?” she asked, her voice easing from laughter into a normal speaking pattern, wiping tears with the back of her wrist. Still grinning, he nodded in response, and leaned his hip on the side of the counter. She pulls open the silverware drawer and sighs, “Oh darn, I thought I had a spoon but I guess they’re all dirty.” she shrugs and fixes the issue by innocently tapping her finger into the saucepan, holding it out for him to taste. In her mind, she thought he would have a quick taste and tell her his opinion. Oh to the contrary. 

His heart jumped at the sight of her outstretched hand, slowly but surely he wrapped his lips around her finger, licking the sauce. The pent up desire that was bubbling deep inside of him started to rise to the surface, and before he could catch what he was doing, he began to deliberately yet gently suck on her finger. The feeling of his tongue wrapping around and in between her two fingers, made her lightheaded, electricity ran through her body and caused a heat to pool in her stomach. After licking her fingers clean, he pulled away and gazed into her eyes for just a moment.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly shaky. She gazes into his eyes for a moment, before responding with a small and trembling voice, trying to pretend she wasn’t affected. “You sure? Does it need more pepper?” 

He knew exactly what she was doing, whether she realized it or not; and he couldn’t help but find her innocent curiosity endearing. A small smile appears on his face, “I don’t know, let me taste it again.” 

A justification to have her fingers in his mouth.

Without a second thought, she taps her two fingers in the gravy again and holds them out for him, this time her hand trembles at the thought of re-experiencing the feeling. His big, calloused hand wraps around her soft wrist to steady her fingers for him. He takes them in his mouth again, gently caressing them with his tongue, silently wishing to himself that he could kiss her with this much fervor and passion. He looks into her eyes before closing them, letting out a soft groan of contentment before pulling away. “Tastes amazing.” he says, wiping the corners of his mouth with his fingers.

Her fingers miss his mouth, they feel cold and incomplete without him. She felt lightheaded and breathless. There’s that beat of silence again, but this time it's longer than before. She pants ever so slightly, and he notices, “You alright?” he smirks. 

“Fine…breakfast is ready then,” she replies, her voice trembling with this new feeling coursing through her body. It was warm and soft, unlike anything she had ever felt before, she turned away and faced the stove again, “Go sit down, I'll fix you a plate.” refusing to make eye contact with him. They finally sit down to eat, although this time it’s different. She stares at him while he eats, trying to figure out this newfound warmth pooling in her, why everything he does makes her heart race. 

“Missed your cookin’, forgot how good it was.” he says, before taking another bite. “It ain’t that good, I appreciate your kindness though.” she replies, pushing her food around with her fork. “Compared to the stuff I gotta eat, this is like society folk’s meals.” She flashes him a small smile in return, her thoughts are loud and her heart is racing, “Society folk, huh?” her voice warbles, she tries to continue the conversation, but her thoughts are clouded by him. The way he ate was almost bewitching to her, she stares at his hands and looks away trying not to get caught. Her own fingers twitch watching him take bite after bite, reminding herself of the feeling of his mouth around her.

“When you leavin’ town?” she asks, not really wanting to know the answer. The soft early morning light starts to peer through the kitchen window. The atmosphere is still, yet full of meaning. He puts the cup up to his lips to drink long enough to ponder her question, before swallowing the warm liquid and placing the cup back down. “In a couple hours, most likely. Why you askin’?”

She shrugs and continues to eat, her left hand resting on the side of her neck. Her eyes refused to meet his, scared that he might see the disappointment in them. He exhales, something is off about her, “Somethin’ botherin’ you?”. She shrugs again and stares at her food, moving it around with her fork once more, “Why you leavin’ so soon?” she asks in an exhale, worried that she might be overstepping. 

He sighs, she didn’t need to know the real answer. “Work, darlin’...I’m on a...business trip,” he gestures vaguely. She doesn’t meet his eyes purposefully, trying to hide the tears in her eyes, it wasn’t fair that he made her feel things she never felt before, only to walk out and leave her forever. She prided herself to not be one of those girls that cry over boys. She always believed there were bigger and better things to fuss over–yet here she was. But what was the crime in missing someone? “Business trip…” she repeats under her breath before clearing her throat.

“What? Do you not believe me?” Arthur scoffs incredulously.

“It’s not that…you ain’t given me a reason to think otherwise but…” she pauses, trying not to overstep. “...But what?” He crosses his arms over and leans in closer against the table, the buttons of his work shirt pulling from the broad of his chest, she can’t help but pan down for a glance, her heart rate picks up at the sight of him. He was such a man– in the best ways possible. It was in his essence, his scent, the way he walked and talked, it drove her mad— it was so heavenly it agitated her.

“I don’t know, I ain't see why you gotta hightail it outta here. It’s been 4 years since you last been here and I mean for pity’s sake you just got here–”

“--And that bothers you?” he interrupts, slightly cocking his head at her.

She stammers, “I-I mean I feel like it’s not polite–”

He scoffs loudly, “Sorry I didn’t know you looked at me and saw the pinnacle of manners,” he places the cup of coffee back down,“Tell me what’s actually goin’ on,” he was starting to get to defensive. What had she heard about him that was making her so skittish?

The bantering conversation dies down and there’s a shared, intense silence between the two of them. 

Oh. Oh.

He felt like a fool for not realizing it sooner–or more accurately making a wrong assumption about how she felt and potentially wrecking a beautiful friendship. He stares at her across the table as she continues to eat.

“You gon’ miss me when I’m gone?” he murmurs low, studying her face, his voice shattering the silence in the air. His words suspended in the air like a fruit ready to be plucked. “We’ll all miss you,” she replies softly, trying to avoid what he’s implying. He shakes his head and grunts loudly in response, “I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout them... I’m talkin’ ‘bout you.”

She nods silently, before looking back up and meeting his gaze. For a moment, just a single, solitary moment–he forgot about the war raging in his mind of whether he was a bad person, or feeling like he wasn’t good enough for her. It was just him and the preacher’s daughter, sharing a meal and a loving silence. 

“Mr. Morgan–”

“You ain’t gotta be so formal with me hon, just call me Arthur.”

“Okay, Arthur, can I ask you something?”

He perks up at her statement, his curiosity giving her permission to ask. “I know you ain’t comfortable goin’ to church and I respect that,” she pauses to search for any discomfort for where the conversation was going, there was none, so she continues, “but I was wondering’ if you’d come to our annual picnic, this week. If you’re apprehensive about it being a church event– it's not. The whole town is gonna be there. It’s a town event, but I thought you'd like a bite to eat before you leave.”

He exhales and grins, “First breakfast and now a picnic? You’re really worried I'm gonna miss a meal huh?” he jokes, but she stares back at him, searching his face for an answer. His thoughts all align and he prepares to explain his reasons as to why he can’t come and that he’ll be back on the road in a couple of hours, but his words betray him, and he hears himself say something unlike him, 

“I’ll be there.” He looks at her free hand resting on the table, and gently envelops it in his.

“I’m glad, it means a lot.” she murmurs, a sparkle of joy in her eye. She stands and starts to clear the table, placing all the dishes in the sink.

There is a deep well of feeling and connection between the two of them, one could cut the chemistry with a knife. It pounds in his chest and he doesn’t know if he should act on his instincts–but dammit if he wasn’t going to at least try to do something about it.

He rises from his seat and approaches her, standing as close as he can to her. Feeling his presence, she laughs, “ain’t they ever taught you about personal space?” She looks over and he’s smiling back, but there’s a seriousness to him. She does a double take of how close he is, her smile faltering a bit, realizing he’s not kidding.

“I reckon you ain’t ever been this close to a man before, huh?” He ghosts the side of his finger against her chin. She shivers, goosebumps rise on the back of her neck and down her arms, before shaking her head.

“Why you tremblin’ doll? I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” he murmurs. 

“I know,” she pauses, trying to find the words, “I just—never been looked at in this way before.”

He scoffs playfully, “Oh you’re more naive than I originally thought,” he looks over her face and down her body once more, “Men are definitely lookin’--  they just ain’t sayin’ nothin’ ‘cause you’re the preacher’s daughter–and they have a hell of a lot of sense to not say anythin.” he leans closer to her. 

“Well…what does that make you then?” she shifts against him.

“A fool–probably. But it ain’t stopped me from sayin’ anythin’ before,” he exhales and continues to gingerly stroke her chin, admiring her beauty. 

His voice becomes low, “You ever think ‘bout a man lovin’ on you baby?” The question vibrates in his chest. Her heart rate quickens, a beautiful shade of crimson spreads across her cheeks at the idea of something so scandalous, “Lovin’ on me?” she repeats. 

“Yeah, you know, what married people do.” 

For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to say. She often would imagine in vivid detail, what she would do if she found herself in a scenario such as this. It was essentially drilled into her mind from a young age– that a man making advances was to strictly be condemned. That her purity was to be intact for her husband and only for her husband. The script of her imagination playing in her head, she’s seen it a hundred times–”sorry sir, I’m flattered but I ain’t interested”. It’s all she had to say…although for some reason she was rendered speechless, hanging onto his every word like her life depended on it.

in this moment– in some sick and twisted game of life, it was almost as if Arthur was forcing her to pick between which sin to commit– lying: claiming to not be interested in him; when in reality, the curiosity was gnawing in the pit of her stomach, or lust: throwing caution to the wind and letting him carry her bridal style to defile her in the bedroom that she grew up in.

She decides lying would weigh less on her soul.

“Mr. Morgan this ain’t proper…it’s immoral. I-I don’t entertain thoughts like that. I ain’t got a reason to.” she denies, refusing to acknowledge something so foul. It pained her to lie, she felt the guilt starting to creep in. Arthur smirks at her response, he doesn’t buy it, although her defiance and naivety makes his own pulse quicken. “Mmph, I see. So you don’t ever think about what your wedding night would be like? To finally have a man to warm your bed? Touching you all over and keepin’ you satisfied?”

Her breath hitches at the idea, never considering that a thought so filthy could have a moral loophole; but she dismisses the thought as soon as it comes, she continues to shake her head. The improperness of the conversation and her willingness to lie starts to make her feel sick with guilt. She shouldn’t be talking like this, not with a man no less. The mix of good and bad emotions swirl in her stomach like a bittersweet concoction about to boil over. As for Arthur, that insistent attitude of hers turns him on even more, and he can’t help himself to gamble how far he could go, “Oh c’mon darlin’, not even how it would feel? To have a man take his time with you and run his hands up your–” 

He found her limit, she cuts him off before he can finish his sentence. “No Arthur!” she barks, “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore! You will not bring this–this debauchery in this house; especially with my Pa in the next room, have you no shame?!” 

He knows he should take her seriously but the way she’s yelling at him is getting him even more worked up. He laughs a hearty chuckle, “yeah for somethin’ so repulsive to ya– ya sure are flushed!”

“Stop it Arthur it’s not funny.” She frowns, the guilt washes up in her like a shoreline. This must be what Papa was warning about on Sundays, the sin that drives a person crazy, to commit crimes and all sorts of deeds all in the name of passion. Arthur was creating new emotions she had never experienced before, the only cost of receiving it was with a backing note of remorse. Although, there was a cadence to Arthur that beckoned her to his presence. Like a siren beckons the sailor out to sea–only she was the sailor.

They gaze into each other’s eyes, unwavering and raw, “Arthur,” she exhales, leaning softly into his touch. He grunts in response, gazing lovingly back at her, his index tracing down her neck, making its way down to her collarbone, the other hand resting gently on her hip. She squeaks at the sudden weight of his hands on her, newfound warmth spreading in her. He scans her face for any hesitation, when suddenly she finds the words she’s looking for.  

“I’m waitin’ til marriage…”

He figured as much. What was he even doing? He knows this already. Lightly removing his hand, his palm hovers over her hip. He treats her like glass, scared he was gonna break her if he touched her at all– what a delicate little thing gazing up at him. He blinks and clears his throat, staggering a couple steps back. “Right. I know…I don’t know what I was—I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped, miss.”

She crosses her arms and as if she is trying to warm them, her fingers finding a way to the pendant Arthur rescued for her, fidgeting with it between her fingers, “You didn’t…I’m not upset… I just– I think– it would be best for you to leave now. For both of us.” she murmurs, “I’ll give Pa your regards.” He nodded in response, pressing his lips into a fine line, “Okay” he says barely above a whisper.

“Mr. Morgan?” his heart sank at her sudden formality— a fear that he ruined everything between them began swirling behind his chest, he came to a halt at her words.

“You still coming to the picnic?” 

He stands by the backdoor, loitering around the frame, before looking back over his shoulder, he exhales and gives her a small, sad, smile, “Thank you for the meal, darlin’. It was nice seeing you again.” The door hinge squeaks before he walks outside, the sound of boots shuffling against the gravel becomes quieter and quieter before it dissipates completely. She’s left with the burn of his shadow haunting the doorframe and the ghost of his touch printed permanently on her frame.

thank u sm for reading it means so much to me truly <3 hope you all enjoyed part one !!!

[the-record]

CASUAL.

SUMMARY: you want all of her, but abby only wants a friend

PAIRING: college!fwb!abby anderson x reader

A/N: i hate this a little but this is for the person who wanted a casual fic under the abby tag this is for u 💋💋 ur genius bc yes i love abby&casual&chappell so yes here

my masterlist

‘ I’M JUST A GIRL THAT YOU BANG ON YOUR COUCH ’

abby: babyyyyyyyt

abby: when ate you cming overrrrrrtt

angel: when you’re sober!

abby: boooooooooooooooooo

angel: i can come over tomorrow, i work tn anyways

abby: fine

abby: miss u

angel: miss u too babes

“you’re still with her?” dina asks while she reads over your shoulder. “didn’t she ghost you and come back like nothing happened?”

your thumb locks your phone as you turn it over on your lap. “so?” you turn to face the brunette, “its nothing serious anyways.” you have to defend yourself against dina and her girlfriend, ellie, way too often.

“tell that to angel three weeks ago crying in my apartment.” ellie piped up. “we’re just trying to be good friends.”

dina wraps her arms around your shoulders as you turn back around. “exactly babes, we love you.”

“whatever.”

you’re both quiet. an artist you dont know sings soft words while crickets harmonize. abby’s fingers run up and down your bare back and yours tangle in her hair. usually, the girl has an ample amount of topics to bring up, but tonight the jar runs empty.

“what are we?” you question. abby’s hand slows before settling on your lower back, toying with the band of her boxers that you wear.

she sighs before answering, thinking about what to say. “friends?” you snort in response. “i don’t know, i told you i wasn’t ready for anything serious right now. you knew what you were getting into.”

you push off of her and sit up with a soft groan. her room is dark but you’re able to find the tee you wore when you came over. the girl reaches for your hand but you pull away.

“i’m going home for the weekend, if you want to come with.” she smiles when she sees one pull at your face first. “it’ll be fun, a couple days away to seattle? hm?”

you face the blonde, now propped up on her forearm, a tousled braid over her naked shoulder. you give in so easy. especially when her lips find yours.

angel: can someone feed alice for me this weekend?

dina: yea ofc

angel: thanks hon

ellie: why cant u? wya

angel: going out of town :)))

ellie: with?

dina: stop interrogating her babe

ellie: no no

ellie: angel who and where

angel: seattle

dina: with who

angel: werent u on my side????

ellie: BRO

ellie: NO CHANCE OMFG

dina: angel dont omf

angel: i didnt even say who??????????????

ellie: ur so guility

angel: and youre so illiterate “guility”

dina: so defensive holy shit

dina: omg u are going with her

angel: omfg get off my dick

ellie: u literally never listen dude

angel: says u

ellie: tf does that mean

angel: cat?

dina: angel wtf thats low

ellie: ykw

ellie: she literally has a new girl every weekend

ellie: you’re just another fwb girl and u know it

ellie: have fun in seattle.

angel: i will thx xoxo.

her dad is sweet, a surgeon as abby brags. you can tell they’re close. he is observant and does his best to make you comfortable. their home is cozy, fireplaces with incredibly old family photos on the mantle. her senior portraits are hung in the staircase. you learn a million and one things about her on the trip.

she loves blue. big hiker. could play board and card games all day. doesn’t love to smoke. she hasn’t changed her room since the 6th grade. they can make a mean chocolate chip cookie.

you learn one that stays in the front of your mind during breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and the car ride home.

“this is all just casual right? you dont actually have feelings? okay good, as long as we’re on the same page.”

when you come home, ellie ignores you as she moves around cleaning the dinner mess in the kitchen. when dina asks how the trip was, you leave out one small part.

“it was great. we went on an amazing hike and her dad is so kind, i had a lot of fun.”

she offers dinner bur you kindly deny, saying you were tired from the drive and just needed sleep. she smiled and sent you off with a quick hug and an ‘i love you’.

you continue to see abby.

she’s softer and kinder after that weekend. she kisses gently and sweetly. she takes you out on dates. you call her name in the passenger seat of her truck in a field in the middle of nowhere. it’s different now.

you don’t tell dina or ellie.

abby’s name is brought up less when people gossip over who’s with who. you hear less of her rendezvous’ with other girls. less and less until it stops.

you ignore your feelings and enjoy the warmth of her while you still have the chance. her dad invites you back and you spend many weekends with the two, laughing and drinking wine on the couch. she sits behind you on the couch while you watch a cheesy rom-com, making fun of the cliches with you. many smiles shared and laughs sung.

your favorite sleep shirt stays at her place. her favorite hoodie is hung in your closet.

when you go out with her friends she drinks and teases you in front of them. your cheeks warm, you excuse yourself and she always finds you in the bathroom. an apology and kiss lead to more.

ellie slowly forgives you, you all hang out as friends again.

her dad says he thinks of you as his daughter.

abby says she thinks of you as a friend.

angel: we need to talk

abby: woah sounds serious lol

angel: yes it is to me

abby: yea, okay. ill be over tn?

angel: okay, lmk ill unlock the door.

abby: see u baby

angel: see u

abby knocks, she always does.

abby smiles and sits on the edge of your bed.

abby shakes her head when you start to talk.

you can’t do this anymore. “i’m done abby. we’re done.”

shes confused though, “what do you mean? i thought we have fun.”

and you do, shes not wrong. but you have fun as ‘friends’ and not lovers. you hold her as a friend. you kiss, and make love, and drink, and laugh, together, as friends.

“i told you i didn’t want a relationship!” she counters. abby stands and grabs your hands. “i wasn’t ready, you cant be mad at that.”

you smile and shake your head. “im not mad, im just over it. i want more. a label, a sense of security abby.” you sit and pull her down with you. “i dont want casual.”

when she leaves you finally open up to dina and ellie. they’re quiet, but its comfortable as you speak and they understand.

abby texts an apology that night and you react to it, a heart.

when she texts again you don’t answer.

‘ I HATE THAT I LET THIS DRAG ON SO LONG

NOW I HATE MYSELF ’

[cocosparkel]

Hello!! I saw ur post asking for writing ideas and I have one

Epic!Hermes x reader where reader is a devoted Hermes worshipper, always prays and has offerings for him at his shrine and keeps the place clean. Then reader gets on trouble (maybe some bad people wanting to hurt reader or something) and hermes saves reader!!

Thank u so much!!

Favourite

(Hermes x devotee!reader)

Summary:

You are Hermes' favourite devotee. Of course, he doesn't hesitate to prove that, when you are attacked, in his own temple nonetheless.

Warnings: non graphic depictions of violence

Word count: 767

Story tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N hope you like it !

Within a week of your worship of Lord Hermes, he had noticed you.

He had noticed not just the way you would painstakingly clean his altar and his entire temple, the way you would make it a point to offer him different things every day, the way you understood how his temple was not just a place of worship, but a sanctuary for travellers.

Rather, he noticed the way your eyes lit up whenever a new devotee approached you. The way your laugh sounded like a songbird’s song, the way you put your utmost effort to do your work, even for the most menial task.

Hermes noticed it all with such intensity, that he didn't like the effect you and on him. He kept his distance, you deserved much better.

Yet, he would show up and watch over you. You were still his favourite devotee.And you knew that. You knew that there was a reason Hermes would show up, whenever you called for him.

You had a weird relationship with him, but you dared not speak up about its peculiarity, lest you insult Hermes.

It took him all his self control to not whisk you away, when some high and mighty nobleman proposed to you.

He watched helplessly as you agreed, albeit reluctantly.He decided then, that he would keep his distance. You deserved better, and for now, that nobleman was the only acceptable answer.

<••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••>

It was just like any other day. You made your way to the temple, and started cleaning lord Hermes' altar. You tried to not think about how you hadn't seen him ever since your betrothal to that noble man. He was probably very busy, he was a god after all.

You were so engrossed in your work, that you didn't notice the three masked men.

You didn't notice anything wrong, till they were right next to you, and the next second, one of them was pinning your hands behind your back, pressing a knife against your throat.

Apparently, your betrothed had cheated them, and hurting you was the only way to get their revenge.

You struggled against the man's hold, only for the knife to graze your jaw, drawing blood. You cried out as the man shoved you against the wall. “Don't try to be smart.” He snarled.

The other man, who appeared to be their leader, chuckled darkly “My dear, don't fret. As soon as your beloved to-be appears, we will let you go !”

You tried to calm yourself down, convince yourself that your betrothed would show.

But you had no reason to worry after all.

Just moments after you have out a silent prayer to Hermes, the atmosphere of the temple darkened. The men looked around confused. Suddenly, the man holding you, was thrown across the room, and you were pulled into a comforting embrace.

Hermes.

You watched in awe as he effortlessly disarmed the other two men, and tied all three of them together.

“How dare you try and hold my own devotee hostage, in my own temple ?” He said, his voice full of anger.

As they tried to defend themselves, Hermes snapped his finger effectively shutting them up.

He turned his attention to you. “Are you okay?” He asked tenderly.

You nodded.

He traced a hand over your cut, and the pain slowly started diminishing. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he said “My darling, I have controlled myself so far. But I must confess today that I love you so much. Would you find it in you, to ever love me too ?”

You were stunned.

He continued, “I will never let anyone harm you, ever. As long as you are mine, I will devote my life to you, to worshiping, to becoming your favourite. As long as you will have me.”

Tears brimming in your eyes, you stammered, “But my lord, you're a god and I'm- I'm just a normal mortal !”

He frowned at that, “Normal mortals don't make me feel as if I would die, just to touch your face. Normal mortals don't make me want to bring them the stars and even the moon.”

He kissed your cheeks, before continuing, “Mortals don't make me ask my father to make them immortal, so I can have them at my side, for however long eternity is.”

You gasped, he wanted you to be with him forever ?

He finally looked you in the eye and said, "I'll give you the world, darling, if you will have it.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you nodded.

Leaning in, he kissed you.

And everything was perfect, just the way it should be.

AN:

This was so fun to write, so much fluff. But I want to write angst and I don't really have any ideas for that…So, send me requests !

[moon1833]

can u do a part two of URGES with kageyama with the team finding out or commenting on what they heard from that night? i love ur story’s on him!and please tag me in it 🙏. I LOVE YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️

@69doing

omg hi yes ofc !! thank you for requesting :) (sorry for the delay)

“Urges” part 2 (the aftermath)

prt 1

“Lemme take care of you”

Contains: Timeskip! Kageyama Tobio x female reader, fluff, like so much yearning, Kageyama doesn’t know how to act, smut at the end

warning: smut, oral sex (male receiving), slight dom reader (barely), sub(ish) Kageyama, inexperienced Kageyama

The sound of sneakers against a wooden gym floor and volleyballs smacking into the ground was a sound you had gotten used to. You had been team manager for Schweiden Alders for the past year, and you practically heard the sounds of the sport in your sleep.

Your feet felt heavy as you dragged them past the double doors to drop off the paperwork you finished earlier that morning to the coach.

After the night you had, you were less than happy to be preparing for the upcoming match, the soreness in your upper legs still prevalent. You would’ve done anything to stay cuddled up next to Tobio for a minute longer.

You hear a few snickers as you enter the gymnasium, but you’re too tired to pay it any mind. From across the net, Tobio follows your frame as you walk, memorized by how your hips sway.

His teammate snorts at his dazed reaction, even the coach chuckling. Purplish marks were peaking out from Kageyama’s uniform, and the scratches on his back were more than enough for the locker room to congratulate him.

Still, he kept his lips shut about who he possibly could’ve slept with on the three days they’ve been in the hotel for. He wanted to keep you to himself.

The idea of another guy thinking about you in that way was enough to permanently etch a scowl into his face.

However, the slight wobble in your step and your managers jacket zipped up all the way to cover your neck was more than suspicious.

Besides, even though the boys were lucky enough to get their own rooms this time, they were still all next to each other. And you weren’t exactly quiet last night.

You try to avoid Tobio’s eye. This morning, you both had agreed to keep it between yourselves, not wanting to risk either of your positions.

(He had nodded, sleep still clinging to him as he listened to you. Your head was on his bare chest and he was playing with your hair.)

Tobio wasn’t holding up his part of the deal very well. You could practically feel his eyes on you at all times as they warmed up.

To your ignorance, he had always looked at you like that.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Tobio to be looking at you with more emotion than he gave a single other person in the world, but you didn’t know that.

Ten minutes to lining up, you were handing out water bottles to the boys. Your hand shook a little handing Tobio his, a new nervousness around him. For the first time all day, you looked up at him.

You found yourself smiling softly at him, fingers brushing yours just a second too long. You turned away, handing the next water bottle to the next teammate.

A part of Tobio’s brain stopped, the curve of your smile and the glint of your eyes washing over him.

After the game, the boys were just as rowdy in the locker room as they always were. The caption, the oldest member on the roster, clapped Kageyama’s back as he walked by.

“Man, I never thought I’d see the day.” He said, a true sense of pride in his words.

“W-what are you talking about?” Kageyama’s voice cracked before he cleared his throat.

“You and y/n!” Another teammate cheered.

“You’ve been ogling her for years.” The caption agreed.

In a few seconds, Kageyama’s entire team was surrounding him in a huddle, congratulating him while he desperately attempted to deny it.

By the time the rest of the team had shuffled out of the locker room to make their way to the bus that would shuttle them back to the hotel, Tobio was flushed pink.

After he washed his face twice, he couldn’t shake the tinge in his cheeks. Even before last night, the thought of you alone made him half hard. Now, with the sight replaying in his mind whenever he blinked, he’d been painfully hard for the whole day.

He contemplated jerking off right then and there, but he decided to wait until he got back.

Eventually, he exited the locker room, almost barreling into you.

“Oh! Uh, sorry.” Tobio’s expression lit up.

“It’s okay.” You giggled, your jacket was off now, a purple mark peaking from behind your hair. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner?”

“Like, with me?” He asked, a bit surprised.

“Yes, Tobio, with you.” You smiled at his nerves.

Not trusting his voice, he nodded shyly, completely embarrassed by how bashful he had became. Luckily, you found it endearing.

“Takeout and a movie okay?” Your smile was growing the deeper his blush got.

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “Sounds good.”

“Be at my room in an hour.” You called over your shoulder, walking away.

Tobio didn’t move for a few minutes, just standing while staring at the ground with a dumbfounded expression. (He almost missed the bus).

—

“You shouldn’t have paid.” Tobio scowled as he finished the food you bought, placing the container in the trash.

“Well, I wanted to.” You argued, legs crossed on your bed.

He slid 10,000 yen across the sheets, but you just scoffed and slid it back to him. He tried to return it, but you pushed it right back.

“You are so annoying.” Tobio said, but there was an amusemed smirk on his face.

“Wow.” You said sarcastically. “I liked you better when you were too scared to speak.”

“I wasn’t scared.” He crossed his arms.

“Uh, absolutely yes you were.”

“I was not.”

“Were too.”

Tobio retorts by taking one of the pillows from beside him and throwing it at your head. You catch it before it can hit you, launching at him.

He falls on his back, hands gripping your waist for stability. You settle on his lap, shoving the pillow in his face as you laugh.

He blindly grabs your wrists, turning you on your back when he wraps his fingers around them. The pillow slides off, and your met with Tobio’s eyes peering into yours.

You smile melts into a smirk when you readjust your hips, feeling Tobio grow on top of you. His prior confidence falls, red creeping up his neck as you spread your legs under him.

“Aw, there he is.” You coo, trailing a hand up his crewneck. You cup his cheek, running a thumb along his jawline.

You nod at him, as if telling him “yes, you can kiss me” and he obliges. Your hands move to his hair, your nails tracing his scalp. His breathe halts at the feeling, giving you the opportunity to slip your tongue past his lips.

His hips rut into yours, and you wrap your legs around him in response. You continue to kiss him while pushing him up, now sitting in his lap.

His hands slide down your back, settling just below your hips, fingers barely grazing your ass.

“Lemme take care of you.” You mumble into his lips, rubbing the tip of his dick through his sweatpants.

“You don’t have to if you don’t-”

“I want to.” You cut him off, kissing his ear.

You move your body back slightly, pushing him so he’s lying down. You’re in between his legs, hands gripping his thighs. Kissing down his chest, you push his shirt up to touch his torso, pushing his pants off.

There’s a spot of dampness in his boxers, and you’re reminded of how impressively big he is (like you forgot).

You kiss him through his boxers, licking the spot of his precum that seeped through. Tobio lets out a deep breath as he curses at the feeling, his hands finding your hair.

He doesn’t push your head towards him or tug on your hair, instead he caresses your head, tucking a strand out of your face.

You look up at him. His face is flushed and his hair is a bit messy, his eyes are half lidded and he’s smiling at you helplessly.

You pull his boxers down as he lifts his hips to aid you with it. They aren’t even halfway down his legs before you’re licking the precum off of his tip.

Tobio whimpers.

It’s quiet, but you hear it. It sends an almost primal response in you, warmth flooding to your core. You trail your tongue down his dick, desperate to hear the sound again.

Tobio bites his lip, swallowing a moan. You stop, closing your mouth and sitting up. His brows crease, worrying he’s done something wrong that caused you to stop.

“Don’t do that.” You say simply, parting his lips with your thumb.

He nods, a bit dumbly. You kiss his lips briefly before shifting back down, a slight arch in your back.

You suck gently on the tip, swirling your tongue around it before taking him as far down as you can.

He’s thick, and it almost hurts how he’s stretching your mouth. Still, the noises you’re pulling from him are worth it.

He’s withering under you, cursing under his breath and letting out the sluttiest sounds. You alternately between licking up his dick and engulfing him fully, tugging at him whenever you needed a break.

“I can’t last, ‘m sorry.” He whines after a few moments, gasping as you hallow your cheeks.

You squeeze his thigh in reassurance, taking him deep as he finishes in your mouth. It was more than you expected, some spilling out of your mouth and pooling with your spit by his pubes.

He twitches as jumbled words of affirmation fall from his lips, and you swallow as much as you can.

You pull off as he catches his breath, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand and wiping him off. He sits up with his elbows, watching you with a soft grin.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Mhm.” Tobio pushes you onto him, one hand hugging your waist while the other caressed your cheek. He kissed your forehead, then your temple.

“You did so good, pretty.” Tobio praises.

You kiss the tip of his nose tenderly, smiling at him. He lowers his head to kiss you, sighing into your mouth.

You adjust your hips to kiss him more comfortably, pulling back when you feel him. “How are you hard again already?”

[notpixl]

Beauty amidst Terror

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Summary:

You get called by The Knave for an important matter.

You recall the various memories during your stay in the House of the Hearth.

Did you mess up?

Did something happen?

Did someone cause trouble?

Or could it be the possibility that…

You’re getting fired?

Only one way to find out…

—————————

Notes:

Multi-part fic since I don’t want you all to be scrolling down

And uh…

Enjoy? I guess…?

—————————

Tags: GN!Reader, I know this looks like it came from ao3, I’ll crosspost this on ao3 and wattpad once all the chapters are done trust, Arlecchino/Reader, Reader is not Traveller, Reader is a Doctor, established relationship, Navia is ur bestie, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet are wingbuddies, NAVIA AS WINGWOMAN, the children have names, I want her to smooch and kiss me and hug and and an, no beta we die like Tingyun, gap moe probably??? I might be lying once this is finished

—————————

“For the fifth time, Romeo…”

You gently pour Betadine on the kid’s knee, earning a yelp from the latter.

“Why do you insist on running around the house?”

“What else am I supposed to for the afternoon, sleep?”

The boy crosses his arms, clearly annoyed.

A sigh escapes your lips before patting their head.

“You come here one more time you’ll be having The Knave treat your injuries, okay?”

“…”

That’s one way to shut them up.

After covering his knee with dressing you stand up from your kneeling position, dusting your coat off before leading them to their room.

“Just… play with your toys. Read a book or something.”

You close the door, leaving you with the somewhat empty hallways of the Hearth.

Granted there were the maids and employees but you didn’t want to initiate- let alone start a conversation…

But aside from Socializing there’s other things to worry about!

Such as locking up the Clinic now that your shift is ove-

“Doctor?”

You stood still for a second, unresponsive.

“…doctor?”

“If I wasn’t used to your antics I’d be dead on the floor, Lynette…”

“Mm… is that why it took you a bit to respond?”

You turn to look at her, immediately noticing the bandaid on her cheek.

“…yes.”

She points at the bandaid, her expression still the same.

“Don’t worry. I did the steps necessary. Just like you said.”

You cross your arms, an eyebrow raised.

“Disinfectant as well?”

“Mm.”

A smile escapes your lips as you ruffle her hair, earning a silent pur.

“Father told me to escort you to her Office.”

“I-Is that so…?”

You nervously retract your arm in response to that information.

You? Being called by The Knave?

S-surely you didn’t do anything bad, right?

“Mm. Follow me.”

Lynette guides you to her Father’s Office, unconsciously walking beside her since you’re already being plagued with multiple questions and thoughts.

Was it the way you treated those kids Were the playful threats too much? Could it be the medicine you used? Maybe it’s you sometimes showing up late- No that shouldn’t be it…

Maybe… a raise-

No… doubt that’d happen…

…fired, maybe?

*Knock! Knock! Knock!*

“Come in.”

Lynette steps aside, being met with The Knave facing her back towards you.

The door shuts tight.

It’s just you and her.

There’s a sofa in front of her desk which beckons you to come closer.

But you have manners.

“Sit.”

You walked rather… slow? As if you’re prepared for any news you’ll be receiving this afternoon…

At least the sofa feels comfy.

Wait why’re you even thinking about that-

“…How’s your stay?”

“Uh… n-nice, I guess…”

Great. You’re stuttering. What a way to start, you.

“How were the kids?”

You gulp.

“Some are… manageable. Some need sweets… and some need a… little visit from The Knave…”

There’s a… slight pause.

“How are you feeling?”

“…Kind of tired? But I’ll be fine.”

“Even after hundreds upon hundreds of children dashing towards your Clinic?”

“Like I said… some are manageable… some need a little treat… and some definitely need a visit from-

“Me.”

“Yes…”

“Why?”

Oh now that is… tricky.

You look at your hands resting on your lap, unsure of what to say.

Oh screw it, you’re in too deep anyway.

“Because you look frightening.”

…

“Mm.”

A long silence ensues.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes slowly look up…

To meet those menacing- no, hypnotizing eyes of hers.

Trying to look at The Knave of all people is already a difficult task.

As if you shouldn’t even think of doing that.

But remaining eye contact with her?

You’ll be dead on the spot.

*Snap!*

“Are you still awake?”

“I- w-what…?”

You repeatedly blink, gaining your senses back.

“Good.”

Should you be scared?

Aroused?

Maybe even both??

“I’ll repeat it again.”

The Knave points at herself.

“Do I look frightening…?”

You stammer.

“N-no… to me at least.”

“…?”

That look of hers tells you to go on.

Not like you had any choice anyway.

“While others might look at you with fear or dread in mind… I fortunately got to see the… Beauty amidst this…”

“Go on.”

“…amidst this terrifying face of yours.”

The last part took… practically everything just to say it.

“…Leave.”

You picked yourself up and bolted away from The Knave’s sights, making sure to close the door quietly.

The fervent beats of your heart occupied your ears as you lean on the wall, shivering.

…

Wait…

Come to think of it…

Wasn’t that a compliment…?

You just flat out said that The Knave’s face is pretty!

You know what? Forget it. You should at least focus on getting out of here and not worry about interpretation…

—————

———

—————

Chat trust me on this I have it… somewhat planned out

I just want you all to have a peak instead of waiting a month huhu

It’ll end with the most sloppiest toppiest make out sessi

💥

🪦

[cheri-2047]

Have you done Cynos new quest? If so, may I request a Tighnari x Reader oneshot where the reader also takes part in the duel at the end (as the traveller or something). Even tho they won they still got injured (but pretended to be fine as to not appear as weak) and after everything settled down and they went back to the city Tighnari takes care of them? Basically some fluff, comfort kinda thing? Sorry if it sounds kinda complicated :')

Thank you and have a good day/night!!

THANKS FOR REQUESTING !! So sorry this took long btw 😔

so uh… I didn’t actually do the story quest cause I stopped playing when lyneys banner was over 💀 BUT I will write like Tighnari tends to ur wounds (that you got after a commission)

Tighnari x injured reader

TAGS: fluff/comfort, blood/wounds

CHARACTERS: Tighnari, mentions of Paimon

A/N AT THE END !

You opened the door to you and your boyfriends shared home, covering the blood stains on your shirt with a bag of things you got payed for in the commission.

“you’re home!”

tighnari walked up to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He raised an eyebrows upon seeing some blood on your shirt,

“what’s th-“

“I’m going to bed, I’m a bit tired.”

you said, before paimon interrupted “heyyy! You haven’t even promised paimon her snacks for helping you when you got in-“

“kitchen paimon, top cabinet”

you slumped your way to your bedroom, not wanting to sleep with tighnari tonight so he wouldn’t see your wounds.

as you removed your shirt, you winced, looking at the loosely wrapped bandages around your torso.

“shit….”

you unwrapped it, carefully and slowly. meanwhile, back in the kitchen, paimon was running through the cabinets.

“aha!”

“finally! Paimon deserved this!”

she drooled at the sight of the chips, tighnari finding it odd how she actually helped In a commission. He heard your distant grunts, your curses, everything no matter how much you tried to stay quiet.

“paimon, how was the commission?”

he asked, hoping she’d give some info.

“Traveler got stabbed pretty badly by a hilichurl camp! Then traveler told paimon to stay quiet and they’d give me their snacks from inazuma!”

Paimon exclaimed, completely disregarding your agreement with her. “oops…. Uh.. don’t tell traveler”

she snickered, while stuffing her face with some dango you had left over.

“thank you paimon.”

and just like that, tighnari left the room.

you were struggling to tend to your own wounds, trying to not stain the sheets or anything, when you heard a familiar voice.

“tsk. You’re hopeless.”

Your boyfriend sat next to you and grabbed a cotton, adding some liquid to help disinfect it.

“Paimon told me everything. Don’t bother to hide it.”

he held your hand tightly before disinfecting the wound. It hurt a lot.

“agh-! Nari-“

you winced, holding his hand tightly

“almost done.”

you tried to not yell in pain, knowing tighnari’s ears are quite sensitive.

“I need to stitch these, drink this first.”

he suddenly pushed a drink to your lips. It was a drink to help you get sleepy so you wouldn’t feel much pain.

as you were being stitched up, nari held your hand tightly and placed a scarf nearby to your mouth to bite for pain.

he winces whenever he sees a particularly deep wound/scar, hoping the anesthesia is still strong while he treats them (yes he also injected some to you after he made you drink a sleep thing)

when he’s finished, he changes you out of your clothes. He obv doesn’t touch any intimate areas

the moment he changes you to comfier clothes, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“oh traveler….dont hide things like this from me.”

he stays up all night to care for you.

the next morning, he does everything. Cleans dishes, makes sure you don’t move at all and most important (and the scariest thing…) he needs to hear what happened from YOUR mouth.

he reassures you that even if you’re injured, it’s okay to ask for help.

the entire day(every day until you’re better) he pampers you.

the end

A/N; CAN U TELL I RAN OUT OF IDEAS IN THE END 💀 my bad, and also thanks for the request ! Ask for another if u want it rewritten lmao. Anyways I also realized that I actually may have mischaracterized him cause I realized how little info I know abt this man AS IF I DONT LITERALLY COSPLAY HIM 💀💀💀 anyways that’s it, thank u !

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Just saw ur requests were open so yk i had to send one hehe

sooo ik thus is kinda unrealistic but i will try anyways!

hiccup with a dragon shapeshifter reader; no one in berk rlly knew but it was rumored that a witch lived on the edge and perhapsss he finds her there :3

tyyy!!

Versipellis

Pairing: Lycanwing!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Lycanwing!Reader

Words: 878

After convincing Berk to move, Hiccup finds a strange dragon rider flailing around in the sand. Except… You have no dragon. Fortunately, you’re no stranger to him or Berk. You do, however, bring to question quite a few odd things about himself. 

Tags: the Hidden World, thw, httyd 3, AU, no light fury, gender neutral reader, nakedness, flashback, Suggestive Content, beginning removed

Next>

Hiccup hobbled slightly, gritting his jaw as he lifted himself over gnarled tree bark, grabbing at the branches of trees as he moved forwards.

His spine ached like a razor set of blades had been dragged up it, scratching along his ribcage as he went.

It was different from the pains that centered in whatever part of his leg that had been ripped and severed and rendered all a mess, though that part of him was aching too, causing muscles to tense and his eyes to shut in agony.

 Secretly though, he knew that pain had been there longer, beginning at a time when he was fully able-bodied but still decidedly frail.

He’d dealt with it when he was an apprentice slaving away over heavy swords and metal ores and he’d deal with it now. Not many carried much sympathy for the troubled, and troubled he was.

He didn’t know what to do with the dragons. Not after Grimmel.

Without a council or any advisor, the burden of managing everyone fell to him.

The idea of freeing and learning about dragons became less and less appealing the more overwhelming the work got. With a growing frequency, he needed to be reminded why the bond between man and lizard was worth protecting.

As he hauled himself up using the crumbling, rough-barked end of a branch, he tightened his grip on the end of a thick bundle of cloth in brown.

What fabric he couldn’t manage easily in front was easily thrown back over his shoulder, catching against leaves, causing his shoulders to jerk and his aches to worsen.

He’d grabbed it on a whim, knowing he might like something to sit over, but now it seemed like more of a burden than anything as he walked up an incline.

He was close- just one more step.

His life was a series of ‘just one more’s. 

He wondered if he would ever get to where he was going.

Hiccup let out a breath as he stepped over a short ledge.

He paused for a moment, looking out at the world from underneath furrowed brows, something in his chest dragging as he took in the drop. It wasn’t steep, but the sand would make it difficult to climb his way back up, what with his screaming body. 

If he went back now, though, that would have meant that his journey would have been made a waste.

Before him was a rippling lake, a few flat stones sticking out from the sand and its surface. Grazing over the small beach, something gave him pause.

He felt oddly calm- and by oddly calm, Hiccup meant… What, excited? Startled?

He felt way too much, though not as much as he would have expected, considering the circumstances- not with the way he recalled heavily sweating palms and a heart beating so fast it rendered him winded.

By the water, sitting and shifting in the sand was… a person.

It was you.

Glances at you stolen between two hefty bodies in the old village- past all his ogling, before he had gotten over his teenhood fancy for Astrid, but long after he’d picked up the one he’d had on you, you’d met eyes once back on Berk- the real Berk, the one that’d existed before he’d messed it up with his own hands, building fragile homes and carelessly slapping garishly bright, painted colors onto their walls... not whatever this place was, new to them all and only just slightly less alien.

You’d never talked.

And how pathetic was that?

Hiccup was a twenty-one winters old man, still stuck staring out at the world like a foppish teen from a rickety forge window.

“Oh.” You said simply, looking at him, then looking down, as if you thought you ought to cover up, though you didn’t seem too hurried. 

While you were distracted, he cautiously, greedily took in bare skin.

He didn’t think it was obvious that he was looking, with the way he kept all his limbs appropriately close to his person.

He should have been ashamed, but he was sure if he didn’t take the opportunity now, he’d never get the chance to again.

He was aware as you turned your attention back to him. 

“You’re… Chief, right?” You asked hesitantly. 

It was expected. 

Hardly anyone acted like it. If they did, they never treated him as such. He appreciated the recognition anyway.

Hiccup responded, “Yeah… Right. I am.” 

It was awkward talking to each other from such a distance, and yet with him unwilling to come down the slope and you rendered still and careful by your own nakedness, the two of you were stuck at odds. 

He kept his gaze on the general you for a moment longer than was necessary. To be fair, though, with the distance between the two of you, it was hard not to look at you without seeing all of you.

“Ah,” Hiccup started, looking around. 

Over extruding log-parts and thick leaves, there didn’t seem to be any cloth. No leather, either, or furs- not even a boot.

Weird, though he wasn’t complaining.

“Do you… make a habit of being naked in the woods?” Hiccup asked apprehensively. 

If so, he should make a habit of coming out more often.

[eph3merall]

📞 : v-day gifts w all my pairs ( and au's ) . . .

an. havent had motivation to post lately so sorry if this is eh. i promise im working on reqs when im able to. got a lil lazy at the end i apologize

# fratboy!chris x loser!reader ★

candy n sweets from loser. chris didnt get her anything. she got personalized rolling paper for him, with a little heart and her name. maybe she wanted chris to like her a little more, even as he just eyes her weirdly when she hands the little bag of gifts to him. inside, he finds lollipops of various of his favorite flavors, a pair of earrings, the rolling paper, another new lighter, and a simple black cap. a piece of paper is slipped inside that reads, 'happy valentines day! ur cool :)' from loser, because she didnt have the courage to tell him she loves him. chris doesn't know how to react, only nodding his head and placing the bag somewhere onto the mess of his desk.

# artist!matt x muse!writer!reader ᝰ.ᐟ

matt painted a scenic view of the forest walk they took just a few weeks ago. a dusting of snow on the ground, tall trees, the filter of sunlight that peeks through the trees. muse is seen in the background, laughing, running towards matt who had captured the moment on his photography camera. he added pink hearts around the corner, a sticky note on the back said 'cutie! happy v-day baby'. muse got standard chocolates, a box of conversation hearts ( that tasted like chalk ), and a new paintbrush for matt. along with that, she poured her heart out into a little note for him, smiling all shy when matt read it. lets say, they ended up 'loving' eachother lots later that night.

# dealer!chris x innocent!bff!reader ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

bff got chris a bracelet and homemade cookies. she made the bracelet too, the beads still littering her room when she got too mad that it wouldnt tie off. the little beads being brown and blue, alternating translucent brown circles and baby blue stars. she handed a little tray of sugar cookies to chris straight on, murmuring a little 'happy valentines day', then sliding the bracelet onto his wrist. chris had to fight the urge to start laughing, hating the way the beads rubbed at his skin so unusually. ( he forgets he has it on sometimes and wonders why his friends and clients stare at him strangely sometimes ). he offered you a hug and presented you a necklace. 'how much was this?' 'nah.. nah, dont worry bout it.'

# toxic!matt + toxic!chris , and toxic!ex!matt 𖦹°‧

the two brothers respectfully did not get anything for their girls at all. whatever gifts they got, they're acting all grateful and happy to appease them for another day ( and to hopefully get into their pants by the end of the night ). and, well, the two of them do.

toxic!ex!matt got you some expensive jewelry just to keep you around for a little longer. the little note he got from you was cute, or whatever, he doesn't remember what it says though when he's fucking you at the end of the day.

# gamer!matt x sleepy!reader ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

sleepy woke up late, 'forgetting' what day it was. matt is already up, talking on the phone with chris when he sees her shift around in his bed. he's quick to hide the little love letter he wrote on his desk, shoving it into a random bag nearby. for the rest of the day, the two are out and about, having fun. sleepy lets matt treat her to a museum tour, food, and any other little things she ends up buying. once the two are home and when matt is in the shower, sleepy has a little basket sat on her lap for when he's out. 'payed secretly for some stuff today... only some of it though, like this teddy bear'. it was various little items and things you know matt liked, and she felt practically ecstatic seeing the way his face lit up. matt is basically vibrating with excitement, quick to fetch the little love letter in an envelope, placing a keychain into sleepy's hand as well.

# stalker!matt ( dont read if you dont like !!!!! you can block the stalker!matt tag as well if needed )

leaves a surprise gift box for you on your desk. of course, you don't know who he is—reading the note on the box that reads 'happy valentines day.' in scratchy handwriting. weirdly enough, it sort of resembles matts handwriting. but it couldn't be him, that would be weird and out of character. matt wouldnt do something like this. you have half a mind to not even open the box, until you do, and what greets you is a pretty pink pair of panties and necklace with a heart pendant.

# vampire!matt ꨄ︎

matching rings and cute new leg warmers for you. you got him a pair of jeans and homemade red velvet brownies, and he was honestly ecstatic. you two spent the day inside. unfortunately matt was absolutely set on the idea of showing you how much he loves you, after all, ( in his words ), it *is* valentines day.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis @slut4chris888

—

©eph3merall 2025

[beardedjoel]

for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange!

here's a moodboard of some of my all time favorite pedro pics - ones that consistently make me laugh, smile, or get h0rny for that old man for you all to enjoy the man that brought us all together!

it’s coming up on around a year when i started getting into fic writing and then finding my way back to tumblr, and sometimes i still can’t believe just how much fun we are all having together over one goofy guy and all his characters! i never would have thought watching an adaptation of my favorite video game last year would have brought me here to so many wonderful people with kind hearts and insane talent!

i have a hard time initiating contact especially in fandom where people sometimes seem to already be doing their thing and you feel like you’ve just arrived, BUT you guys! you all have made me feel so welcome - to everyone who ever reached out to me first bc i was too shy, commented, messaged, ANYTHING i just love and appreciate you so much. not to mention the sense of humor in this community is just…. so. good.

idk if it’s corny to out myself like this but this is such a huge part of my life. i think about my fics so often, i smile at my phone at work when i see a new comment or dm that just brightens my whole day, i look forward to my interactions with you all. and it’s just been such a blast sharing this space with everyone.

i wish i had time to make something for every friend and fic i've loved but life is life-ing and so busy rn - just know i love all of y'all.

here’s to all our friendships, making new ones, and strengthening the ones we have ❤️ thank you han and cat for setting up something so sweet and thoughtful!

tagging some amazing moots and people i'm a big fan of!

@swiftispunk @joelscruff @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups @burntheedges @janaispunk @beskarandblasters @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @dancingtotuyo @wannab-urs @tightjeansjavi @pastelnap @joelsgreys @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @sawymredfox @ilovepedro @joelsgreenflannel @whxtedreams @gasolinerainbowpuddles @pr0ximamidnight @justagalwhowrites @noxturnalpascal @joelsflannel @punkette1026 @toxicanonymity @honeyedmiller @mermaidgirl30 @ezrasbirdie-main @wintrwinchestr @mrsmando @5oh5 @kiwisbell @joelscurls @atticrissfinch @cavillscurls @perotovar @futuraa-free

and so SOOO many more people!!! if you've ever interacted with me in any way or i've read something of yours i've loved etc - I LOVE YOU!

[dizscreams]

“I’M HIS PRETTY PARTY FAVOR, HE SAYS IM HIS FAVORITE FLAVOR”

— Ethan Landry ★

PAIRING: Spider-Man!Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: Spider-Man helps you out of party cuz ur WASTED and then Spider-Man is actually Ethan what?! OMGG!! Then it’s a cute moment but no confessing 😰 maybe it needs a part two? Who knows.

A/N: sorry for all the Spider-Man!Ethan content lately, he’s just living in my brain rent free rn 🫣

TAGS: @ourloveisgod23 @xyzstar @wenvierismycomfort @wekiamo @beary-rambles @aesthetixhoe @c8rdigan @aqellano @teyamsgirll @mbankfav @gabbylovesreading @brakke-dino @astermath

Ethan entered the frat party with one goal and one goal only, to make sure his friends were okay. He only knew this party was happening because he was patrolling tonight and saw it and plus Chad had texted him to join you guys. You guys being Chad, Mindy, Anika, Tara, and you.

Ethan said he had Econ and couldn’t make it, which was a lie he constantly told. He really needed to come up with a new one.

Ethan was worried for his friends safety because the infamous Ghostface killer was back. I mean who would throw a party in a time like this? Let alone actually go to one. But he didn’t blame you guys, you were all stressed and scared. He was just glad it was a Halloween party so he could blend in easier since he still had his suit on.

He pushed past sweaty drunk teenagers and found his way to the living room where he found Mindy and Anika on the couch. Two down three more to go, Tara, Chad, and you. He wondered toward the kitchen and found Tara drinking, he’d definitely need to check in on her later. And he found Chad near the stairs, but the only person he couldn’t find was you.

Where were you? Ethans searched the party like twelve times and he couldn’t see you. It would probably help if he knew what you were dressed as. Just as he turned around to start at the front of the house again he bumped into somebody, “Oh, I’m so sorry-” he paused when he saw you. You were wearing a Spider-Man costume without the mask and your hair was slightly messy. You looked like you’d been drinking.

“Heyyy, we’re matching!” You stumbled forward and Ethan quickly caught you. “Yeah, I guess we are,” he chuckled. You were matching and it was quite adorable to Ethan but his main concern was getting you home safely. “Yours looks a lot better than- than mine though. Where’d you get yours? I just got mine off of Amazon,” you rambled as you played with the hem of Ethan’s mask. He gulped and gently took your hand away, now holding it.

“I just got it from.. from a friend. I’m borrowing it,” he lied. “Oh, cool. Do you want a drink? I can get you a drink?” Ethan quickly shook his head at your ask, “I’m alright, thank you though. I think you should find your friends and go home.” Someone bumped into you so the arm that Ethan had wrapped around your waist pulled you closer to him while his other hand was still holding yours. You kinda looked like a couple.

You shook your head, “I don’t know where the-they are. They’re probably partyinngg!” You exclaimed with a laugh. “Hey, who are you by the way?” Ethan was taken back by your question but he realized that you thought he was a complete stranger. You didn’t know he was Ethan Landry, you didn’t even know he was the real Spider-Man. You just thought it was a costume.

You removed the hand that was holding Ethan’s, much to his dismay, and you put it to his face. You examined him through the mask he was wearing and turned his head to the left and then to the right. “What are you doing?” Ethan asked confused. “You’re the real Spider-Man aren’t you? That’s why your costume looks so good! You’re him-!” Ethan quickly put a hand over your mouth and took your hand, “Lets go outside.”

You followed him outside the house party and stumbled down the steps. “So are you the real one? Or not?” He helped you down the last step so you wouldn’t eat shit on the concrete and led you to the side of the house. “This is getting creepy man-” Ethan interrupted you by ripping the mask off of his face. Your mouth dropped open, “Ethan? When did you get here?” He looked around to make sure nobody was near and got closer to you. He held your shoulders and got close to your face. “Ethan? What’s-”

“Okay, I need you to listen to me and you cannot tell anyone, okay?” You nodded at him and he continued, “Okay, I’m Spider-Man,” he said slowly hoping you could comprehend what he was telling you. Ethan could practically see the gears in your head turning and he saw your confused expression turn into a smile, then a laugh. “You-you’re Spider-Man? How much did you drink Ethan?” You asked through laughs as you poked his cheek.

“I didn’t drink anything-” he said swatting your hand away, “I’m telling the truth and I’m serious you can’t tell anyone.” You laughed again, “Okay, whatever Ethan. You have my word,” you said humorously. It was clear you didn’t believe him and he didn’t blame you. This was probably the worst possible time to tell you. He’s not even sure why he was telling you. Ethan sighed as he put his arm around you again to hold you up, “Okay, lets get you home.”

You nodded and let him walk you back to your dorm. It was chilly and your thin costume didn’t help. Ethan noticed your shiver and held you closer to him, “We’re almost there, don’t worry.” You responded with an inaudible noise and put your head against his shoulder.

When you guys made it there he grabbed the key from your shaky hands and went inside. He walked you to your bedroom and you flopped on the bed. Ethan put his mask on your dresser and went over to you. “Tired?” He asked and you nodded. He smiled softly and took off your shoes before pulling the covers over you and tucking you in. He took a moment to look at you, your hair was still slightly in your face but you looked peaceful.

“Hey Ethan?”

“Hm?”

“I believe you, about you being Spider-Man.”

He chuckled, “You wont remember this tomorrow.”

You ignored him and kept talking, “It makes sense because you’re always disappearing. And it makes sense because one time I saw the Spider-Man suit in your closet but I assumed it was for Halloween even though it was like April,” you giggled and he smiled at you.

“Hey Ethan?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you tell me you were Spider-Man?”

He thought about it for a moment, “I don’t know I guess I didn’t want you to think you were being kidnapped by a Spider-Man wannabe.” You giggled and shook your head, “Is that the only reason?” He stayed silent and you nodded in understanding. You wouldn’t tell him but you were hoping he told you because he trusted you and because he wanted to be more than friends but maybe that was a lot to ask.

“Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” He looked at you hesitantly and you scooted away from the edge of the bed. “Please, Eth?” You patted the spot next to you and he sat down. You two stayed silent for a moment before you put your hand on his cheek, “You’re really pretty, you know th-that?” You hiccuped and he smiled bashfully. “You’re drunk.”

“Nuh-uh”

“Uh-huh”

You smiled and closed your eyes, “Ya know, I’ll sleep a lot better knowing New Yorks friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is Ethan Landry.” He laughed and watched as your smile faded to a relaxed expression. And soon after he heard your small snores. He moved the hair from your face and stood up. He wasn’t sure what you meant by that exactly and he knew you probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, but he was grateful for the moment anyway.

He wouldn’t let it get to his head though. He’s liked you for a long time now but he wasn’t ready to confess yet. Ethan looked at you one more time before grabbing his mask and putting it on. He climbed out your window and swung away.

Who was he kidding, if you actually remembered this tomorrow he would definitely confess his love to you.

[elliotsgrl]

pregnancy scare | min ho x reader

synopsis: you think you might be pregnant. you decide to tell min ho the news so you can find out together, but min ho doesn't take it so well....

pairing: min ho x reader

a/n: thank you to @a-mexican-waffle for this idea! also yall ntm on me pls i'm still very entry level when it comes to writing fics- i'm just tryna get the min ho x reader tag saturated yk.

warning: some spicy material, mentions of unprotected seggs. don't be silly, wrap ur willy!

you took a deep breath, looking at the pregnancy test box in your hands. this cannot be happening. you had been about two weeks late on your period, which is completely out of the ordinary. you are never late on your period. ever.

you and min ho had not used protection the last time you were together. you were both way too turned on and you were too impatient for him to grab the condom, so you let him go in raw.

now that your judgement is no longer clouded by lust or desire, you’ve realized that it may not have been the smartest decision to make.

who are you kidding? it was not. you palmed your forehead, sighing, while recalling how you got in this position.

you were in your dorm bed, both nude, and engrossed in a passionate lip lock. min ho was on top of you with your legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands trailing up your thigh. he pulled away to kiss and suck on your neck, which made you moan loudly and grip his soft hair.

"fuck, min, you're gonna leave a mark," you breathed out. you didn't want to deal with the fuss of having to cover up multiple hickeys. he left your neck alone, coming back up to your face again. "you're no fun." min ho said playfully.

"shut up," you grabbed his face, closing the gap once more. you were kissing like you hadn't seen each other in months. you could feel how hard he was since it was pressing up against you. it only made you wetter than you already were. you needed him and you needed him now.

min ho was trying to reach for the box of condoms on the dresser next to your bed while your lips were still entangled. you broke the kiss, not being able to wait any longer. "baby, i need you right now. i can't wait." you whispered to him. min ho raised his eyebrows in shock, trying to process what you just said.

"are you sure about this, y/n?" min ho rarely ever uses your full name, so you knew he was serious. but all you could think of in this moment was feeling him deep inside you. you nodded.

you put your hand on his cheek, letting him know that you meant what you said. "i'm sure. now put it in, please..." you were so desperate, to the point where you couldn't think straight until he gave you what you wanted.

he did, in fact, give you what you wanted, and more.

you felt a chill go down your spine from the flashbacks of what went down that night. it was an interesting night for sure. you knew this was the reality of what could happen when you don't use protection, but you were too horny to care.

time to tell min ho.

you grabbed your phone from the table to send him a text to come over. his dorm wasn't too far from yours, so you knew it wouldn't take long for him to get here.

ten minutes later, you heard a soft knock on your door. he's here.

you went to the door to open it, revealing min ho. he had on loungewear and was looking sexy as ever. focus.

you hugged and kissed each other, while leading him inside to the living room. you let out a deep breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

minho went to sit on the couch, while you remained standing.

"your text sounded kinda urgent. is everything okay, babe?" min ho said, looking at you.

"i have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out." you said. knowing min ho, you had an inkling he was not going to take this lightly.

min ho stood up from the couch to come closer to you. his expression changed from being calm and collected to slightly worried.

"okay.... i promise i won't freak out."

he says that now. but he doesn't know about this bomb you were about to drop on him.

"alright."

"i think i'm pregnant."

min ho laughed. "you're joking, right? is this a prank or something?"

you slowly shook your head. it started to sink in for him when he saw how serious you were.

min ho's eyes got as big as saucers.

"you think you're WHAT?"

"shit, y/n!"

"oh my god, i don't think i'm ready to be a father-"

"but i literally pulled out!"

"babe, do you know what this means???"

min ho was talking so fast that you could barely understand him. he was now pacing back and forth, rambling about the whole thing. he was losing it. you had to bring him back to earth.

"my love-"

"we're too young to be parents!"

"babe-"

"i wonder if the baby is gonna look more like me or you..."

"MIN HO!!!" you screamed, trying to get him to stop rambling. he immediately snapped out of whatever trance he was in.

"first of all, i need you to be calm, okay? second of all, the pull out method doesn't always work. and yes, i do know what this means. but, i'm not even a hundred percent sure if i am pregnant. it's just a possibility. my period is two weeks late, so i think i might be."

min ho pursed his lips, finally stopping the pacing.

"do you have a pregnancy test?"

you went to grab the two pregnancy test boxes you were holding earlier.

"yes, i do. i haven't taken them yet because i wanted us to find out together."

you went back to him and grabbed his hand.

"whatever the results are, we'll get through this, alright?" you spoke softly.

min ho nodded, squeezing your hand.

"you're right, we will."

you walked to the bathroom together, hand in hand.

you peed on both of the sticks, setting them face down on the sink. you put a timer on your phone for 3 minutes, and washed your hands.

minho sat on the flat edge of the tub while you sat on the covered toilet seat.

"this could really upend both our lives." min ho said, looking down.

"yeah, i know. i should've just let you grab that condom," you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

min ho chuckled, looking back up at you. he shook his head. "you're such a nymph. you couldn't wait just a few more minutes so i could get the condom on?"

you smiled while rolling your eyes in a playful manner.

"hush!"

the alarm on your phone went off, signifying that three minutes has passed.

the smiles on your faces disappeared as quickly as they had came. this was it.

you both stood up.

you each grabbed a pregnancy test, so you could look at the same time.

"okay, on the count of three."

"one,"

"two,"

"three."

as you flipped them over, your heart was beating out of your chest. you don't think you’re ready to be a mother either.

you had never been more relieved to see the words "not pregnant" in your entire life. the weight that was on your shoulders being released felt so damn good.

"oh, thank heavens!" min ho exclaimed, seeing the negative result on the pregnancy test he was holding. he let out a relieved sigh.

"i think i was about to grow a grey hair just now. that was so stressful." min ho said. you laughed so hard.

"you're such a drama queen. i would've been the one carrying the baby!" you took the test from him so you could chuck them both in the trash.

"am not. how else was i supposed to react when my girlfriend tells me we might be expecting?"

you both washed your hands and left the bathroom.

you went back to the living room to cuddle on the couch. you grabbed the remote to surf through netflix.

"i'm really glad i'm not pregnant. that was fucking scary."

"i agree, let's never do that again."

you and min ho looked at each other.

"never ever..." you gave him a quick peck, smiling.

[crosby-interesting]

I used to think I don’t about love & infidelity as long as there is money & a desirable lifestyle. Now at 25, seeing the dynamic of the stay at home girlfriend relationships something in my brain switched. At that glitters truly isn’t gold. After a few yrs of being with a rich man, don’t you they realize the riches start to become ordinary? At age 40, will curated instagram posts of ur “relationship goals” & designer goods still distract from the blandness of the relationship in the same way it did in ur 20s-30s? If the relationship is transactional; ur youth & beauty, exchanged for his money & fame, don’t u realize this dynamic does not lean towards ur benefit as a woman? Don’t they realize superficial relationships such as these once ur youth fades his gaze will wander? Selling ur youth to a man who isn’t sure of u is a betrayal to urself. He can divorce at 55, still be rich, create a new family with a 25 yr old version of u while ur now age 55 depending on monthly checks from him, with a few of his kids & a old house he left u. Will u, a woman, start over as easily as he did at age 55 getting a 25 yr old to marry & play step parent ? Good luck with that. Youth for women is what money is for men. The difference is, one is fleeting & majority of wags fail to realize that. The man can find a way to earn more money, the woman, (despite surgeries & creams) can not find a way to earn more youth. This is why it’s crucial to marry a man that is boastful of u, respects, & through his actions has proven commitment. Connor Mcdavid cheated on Lauren Kyle in the peak of her youth, so what’s stopping him from cheating when she’s 50 & he, a man of status & wealth, can still attract 20 yr olds with no effort? They dated 9 YEARS, yet he magically proposes 1 yr after being caught on video cheating? Connor publicly humiliated Lauren & didn’t respect her enough to publicly apologize. Kobe Bryant who had cheating allegations admitted at a press conference to his infidelity & publicly apologized for the shame he brought to his wife. Connor didn’t just have allegations he was on VIDEO cheating, yet didn’t bother to to post even a pathetic generic IG story apologizing in Lauren’s honor,he rather let his fans call Lauren a gold digger & doormat under her IG pictures still to this day. But his sudden urge to propose 1yr after cheating makes it better, right? Coincidently 1 yr after Connor conveniently proposed, his other lap dog Leon Drasaital magically felt the same urge as Connor & proposes after 7 YEARS of dating Celeste Desjardins & oddly 2 weeks before Connor’s wedding. 7 yrs dating a man whose trying to finish school, or work up to financially provide is understandable. But 7 yrs of dating is a lifetime when the man has nothing to worry about besides being paid millions to literally play a game while u wait tending to his home playing house keeper & dog watcher. Did Leon know Celeste was the one? No. But he did know he wants to keep up with the one he prioritizes, captain Mcdavid (who by the way didn’t bother to claim Leon as a best man…) So Lauren with a man who publicly cheated, doesn’t respect respect or protect her, looks as “excited” with her as he does when doing post game media. And Celeste, with a man who kept her as a placeholder for 7 years, until out of pressure finally decided he was ready to commit to marriage despite the fact she’s been committed to centering her world around him, so much that for the past 5 yrs she been publicly online making imaginary wedding Pinterest boards & uploading pictures with him on Pinterest with the tags #couplegoals #wag #Nhlwag #model #hockeyWags and also started following engagement ring accounts and various accounts about “tips advice to getting a man to commit” on IG 3 days after her bestie got engaged. A fairytale manufactured inside of a misogynistic nightmare is the only way to describe these 2 relationships. This is all my meaningless observation of course. Time will tell. Actions will speak for themselves, as they always do. I’ve seen this story before.

-🇲🇽

#WillYouStillLoveMeWhenImNoLongerYoungAndBeautiful #LaurenDesjardins sorry i meant #LaurenKyle and #CelesteDesjardins #LeonMcdavid sorry I meant #LeonDraisaitl and #ConnorMcCheater aka #ConnorMcdavid

That was brilliant! I'm sure many here will unconditionally agree with you! Thank you

The girls from Edmonton still have time to have children and provide for themselves based on this fact. But those who did not receive a ring or a child and lost decades on an unequal union - they are in complete ass