#don’t tag x oc as x reader

[koolaidmansb1tch]

Fun Fact!

(TLDR; Using You/Your doesn’t make your X OC an X Reader, don’t tag it as such)

Using Second Person POV (You/Your) does not automatically make something X Reader! So if you market something as X Reader when the character is very clearly an OC, that is mistagging and it’s a shitty thing to do! IDK bout y’all but I do not, in fact, have blue or green eyes, I am not blonde or a redhead, I am short and chubby. So if you are using a character that has set features and a name, I do not give a singular fuck if you are using 2nd Person POV, that is not X Reader. The only reason an actual X Reader should have any sort of set features is if it actually relevant to the plot (ie a Species Characteristic like wings or a tail, or something to do with actual plot relevance like if the Reader Character has a very specific and special eye colour) and necessary. Yea, absolutely if you are writing for a specific race (ie Black!Reader) then you are free to set those characteristics but if it is meant to be ambiguous then don’t put a damn OC in place of the “Reader” Character and call it an X Reader. Y’all are assholes if you do that. I am genuinely sick and tired of seeing it. Worst part is, I literally have the X OC tag blocked and yet I’m still seeing this shit because y’all don’t fucking tag your stuff properly. If you’re gonna be a dick and tag it as X Reader then at least include an X OC tag so that we can fucking filter it. I have made multiple posts about this kind of thing before and I am reaching my goddamn limit. Literally just saw a fic that was very blatantly X OC and yet that tag was nowhere in sight. Fucking Homestuck(dated reference ik shut up) uses 2nd Person and yet nowhere does it claim to be a reader insert. Reader insert and immersive are 2 different things don’t even get me started.

Tag. Your. Shit. Right.

It is not that fucking hard. literally all you have to do is add a tag that is 3 characters. “X OC” that’s it. That’s all it takes. Or, better yet, put it as a warning in the actual post because not everyone checks the tags. This isn’t Ao3 where the tags are just right there alongside the warnings, put tags and warnings in the actual post and in the tags. Literally just be courteous to the people who don’t want to see that. If you don’t want to use Y/n, easy fix, either work around it (ie, “he said your name” “She called your name” “they muttered your name”) or get some kind of nickname (doesn’t have to be a pet name, could just be something people call them, ie “my name is ____ but people call me Gator” I literally know someone who nearly everyone knows as “Fish”)

It is not that hard to just be courteous and not tag your X OC as X Reader.

[agender-wolfie]

Guys. Stop tagging your OC stories as X reader. It’s hard to sift through and I don’t go to the x reader tag for OC’s I don’t care about .

[sweaterrat]

Lemlav has cured my art block, hallelujah 🔥🔥🔥

[myokk]

Eloise is really, really bad at chess😐

(this is a scene from my fic & I typed it up here:)

"Milady, you cannot send him there! He will surely die a terrible death, and Murdoch is our finest knight!"

Eloise blinked her bleary eyes at the wizarding chess board, not really comprehending what the tiny pieces were yelling at her. The one that seemed to be doing the most talking was gesticulating wildly and jumping up and down, trying to get her attention. When she had taken the pieces out of the box Sebastian had lent her, they had immediately recognized her and started protesting, appealing to 'their benevolent lord's innate sense of goodness', but their protests fell on deaf ears. Eloise was positive that Sebastian took some sort of perverse pleasure at watching her lose at chess.

In the background, she could hear Ominis's laughter echoing through the Undercroft. His own pieces were quite happy at the moment, preening and occasionally sending rude gestures towards Eloise's, much to Sebastian's amusement. He was narrating their every action to Ominis, whose laughter was egging on his soldiers even more.

"Eloise," Sebastian said, propping his chin up by one hand (entirely too amused, infuriatingly so, why did he have to look so handsome when she was trying to be annoyed at him?), "maybe you should move the knight..." his other hand pointed to an empty space on the board, "...here."

This declaration caused an uproar. There were shouts of betrayal, tiny pieces gesticulating wildly to the carnage surrounding the board as they shouted in vain. She didn't see any other viable moves, so Eloise sighed and ordered the brave little Murdoch to where Sebastian had suggested. Chaos immediately ensued and Ominis's queen gleefully knocked his head off with a violent swing of her scepter. Eloise's pawns all doubled over, sobbing as their most valient knight fell, and her remaining bishop shook his tiny fist in outrage up at her.

After a few more minutes, much to Eloise's ashamed relief and the boys' disappointment, her pieces refused to move for either her or Sebastian. They solemnly collected the remains of their fallen comrades with as much dignity as they could muster and marched off the board and back into their box in a mourning parade of sorts.

Sebastian joined Ominis's pieces as they jeered the losing team off the board, causing Eloise to glare fiercely at him. "You were the one telling me what to do, and they're your pieces! Show some loyalty."

He shrunk away from the intensity of her gaze and held up his hands in protest. "I was suggesting the moves as a joke! After last week's fiasco, I didn't think you'd fall for it again."

Ominis was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath, and the two of them turned to watch him. Even through her irritation, Eloise couldn't help but smile at him - he was always so solemn and these bouts of mirth were few and far between. He managed to speak between bouts of laughter. "I...I couldn't...I couldn't believe it when you sent your bishops one by one into my trap! It was so obvious! And then...and then you..." Ominis dissolved into fits of laughter again and couldn't finish.

Eloise turned her angry glare to him. "We can't all be chess geniuses!"

"I've tried teaching you and you don't listen! For the next time, I'm only going to give you one piece of advice: don't listen to Sebastian." He chuckled once more to himself and then turned slightly to the board, addressing his men (and queen) and giving them a debriefing. He always did this after he won the matches; it was a strange sort of ritual that he seemed to look forward to.

[tealdoodles]

Happy Pocky Day. Completely inspired by @emelinstriker picture here.

Also also inspired by this post that pops up every once in a while in my head. CHOMP!

Don’t worry Reader plays a few games of pocky with the Champion(s) macaque really wanted to play the game properly and got a new stick. And reader has a difficult time saying no to him. How can you? Look it him being all adorable!

And now to go research the history of Pocky Day right before I go to bed.

[sad-endings-suck]

and if I said that lots of mizu/akemi shippers are actually mizu/fem self-insert and mizu/fem oc shippers then what?

[kiwisandpearls]

Hey. Fanfic writer to fanfic writer here,

Stop putting your character(s) x oc fanfics into the character x reader tags.

it’s annoying and doesn’t help anyone.

[breadbrobin]

the bet

cedric diggory x oc — harry potter

[fem!oc]

summary: morgan ridge could turn down many things. food, romantic advances, friendships. but she could never turn down a good bet.

warnings: quite a lot of swearing (morgan is a bad influence methinks), kissing, betting/gambling, NOT x reader, fem!oc, GOD they’re in love with each other, minor character death (sort of), i think i’m a comedian with this story apparently (spoiler, i’m not), third person pov.

word count: 5.7k

(LOOK i knowwww that x oc fics don’t do as well on tumblr so if this doesn’t do well i’ll rewrite it and post as an x reader too but i don’t really want to rn so i’m just posting it as is bc idgaf really. anyway i’ve had this in my drive for like three years and it’s finally time to share morgan with the world yayyy (i love her she’s so silly))

———————————

The Inciting Incident

It all started when Lizzie Crawford entered the bathroom.

“God, Liz, do you ever knock?” Morgan asked, mostly unfazed. She was used to her friend bursting in unannounced almost every time she was showering.

“No,” Lizzie said, perching on the edge of the closed toilet and picking at her chipped nail polish. “Now, I have a proposition for you.”

Morgan poked her head around the opaque shower curtain. “Oh?”

She hummed absently, running her hand through her hair. “So you know how Diggory’s spending some of the summer with you, and then you don’t live that far away so you’ll probably be in each other’s pockets all break?”

“Uh… yes? Obviously, I know that? Why does that matter?”

“Well, I’ll bet you twenty galleons that you’ll get some action with him over the holidays.”

Morgan turned the shower off and peeked around the shower curtain at her friend. “Come again?”

“I bet you twenty galleons that you’ll get some with Diggory over the holidays.”

“He’s my friend.”

“And? Do we have a deal?”

Morgan paused, considering her options. On one hand, she knew she didn’t have feelings for Cedric. On the other, it felt wrong to take a bet like that. Finally, her lack of moral compass won. “Fine. We have a deal.”

“Great! I can’t wait to be twenty galleons richer.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, turning the shower on again and running conditioner through the ends of her hair. “Keep dreaming, Liz.”

“What are the conditions?” Camilla Maquez asked, leaning across the table at dinner.

“Conditions?” Morgan asked, buttering a bread roll and handing it to her.

“Yeah, like, what constitutes as ‘getting some’,” she used quotation marks. “Because you two are so affectionate anyway, so Liz, you need to specify.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled a face at her friend.

“No, she’s right,” Lizzie cut in. “Kissing? That counts.”

“Only lips though right?” she clarified.

“Yes, Morgan. Holding hands romantically counts. Gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes.” she hummed in thought. “Hugs with romantic context.”

Camilla snorted into her bread. When the other two shot her a confused look, she raised her hands. “It’s funny because they do all of this anyway.”

“Not romantically,” Morgan pointed out.

“Mhm,” she smirked.

“Piss off.”

“Anyway,” Lizzie continued. “Legs. Anything to do with legs. Touching your leg with his hand or leg or anything romantically.”

“Mm, that’s sexy stuff,” Camilla mocked.

“Like I said, piss off.”

“Obviously sex.”

“Liz!”

“Which you probably won’t do, but I need to keep my options open here.” she rectified.

“I have a bet myself,” Camilla spoke up again.

Morgan sighed. “Yes?”

“Not with you.” she waved her off. “Five galleons says Diggory makes the first move.”

“That is not fair. We all know Morgan’s a pussy.”

“Hey!”

Lizzie laughed. “Just speaking the truth, hun. Oh! Pet names, but like, meaningfully, counts.”

“Are you taking my action, Liz?” Camilla implored, sticking her hand out.

She shook her head. “I guess so. You better prove me doubly right, Morgan!”

“Not planning on it,” she sang quietly, returning to her dinner.

The Cow Situation

Before Morgan knew it, the school year was over.

She woke up around midday, that first day back, and stared at the ceiling, relishing in the silence that surrounded her. The birds chirped outside her window and a thin ray of sunlight peeked through the tan curtains, leaving a golden line across her body and room.

With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and rubbed her eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess around the back of her head, but she simply pulled it into a loose bun and headed downstairs.

A note sat on the kitchen counter.

Taken the dog for a walk, be back around 1:30. Hopefully you’ll be up by then…

Love, Mum

Morgan smiled softly and put two pieces of bread in the toaster.

She leaned against the counter and stared out into the yard. A few chickens pecked and scratched the dusty ground and a pair of cows grazed in the field behind them. A small girl sat on the trampoline, not bouncing.

She frowned as she opened the door and walked over, scaring a chicken out of her way.

“Hey, Little C,” she called. “What’s up?”

Cordelia Ridge, her nine year old sister looked over her shoulder and looked back. “Hi.”

Morgan’s smile fell from her face and she climbed up onto the trampoline beside her. “Uh oh. What’s going on, Cords?”

“Mummy says Diedre is sick,” she pointed at the black and white cow.

“Sweetie, Diedre’s always getting sick.” she sighed. “Shoddiest immune system I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen you.” she poked her side, enticing a giggle out of the girl.

“So she’s gonna be okay?”

“Of course! It’s Diedre. She’s always pulled through before. Why not now?”

They were holding a funeral for Diedre the cow.

Cordelia was absolutely beside herself. Morgan stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder, the other hand holding a bouquet of long grasses, hand picked and arranged that morning.

It was a dry day, and the sun was shining, and Cordelia was glaring up at it like it was personally offending her.

“Don’t look at the sun, Little C. You’ll go blind,” Morgan chided, pulling her sunglasses off and slipping them on her sister’s face.

“Maybe I want to,” she sniffed. “Maybe I deserve it.”

Her face contorted in confusion. “What?”

“I should have realised sooner,” she wept. “I should have given her the love she deserved.”

Morgan stared down at her younger sister, whose bottom lip was wobbling precariously. She crouched down and tucked her wispy hair behind her ear. “Listen to me, Cordelia. There was nothing you could’ve done. The animal doctor said that it was just time for her to go. Like Grandma.”

That apparently did not help.

The floodgates opened and the sunglasses fell off. Cordelia planted her face in Morgan’s shoulder and wailed.

As the young girl cried, Morgan’s eyes caught onto two tall figures walking towards the family.

Her mum smiled softly at her before walking over to the people.

The larger of the two hugged her and she led them over to her daughters.

Morgan saw it was Cedric and she waved slightly.

He raised his brows at the crying girl she held before crouching down beside her and tapping Cordelia’s shoulder.

“Hey, Dells.” he said quietly, making her sobs quieten and her head turn towards him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She sniffled once, then twice, and detached herself from her sister. Morgan breathed a sigh of relief, believing the worst to be over, when the nine-year-old launched herself onto Cedric, crying into his black shirt.

He shot her a small smile, reaching out and patting her knee gently as he comforted her sobbing sister.

Her stomach lurched.

That should have been her first sign.

The Flowers

Cedric was splayed out on her bed. One of his feet hung off near Morgan’s head and she was infinitely glad for his quality hygiene.

She was reading the Wizard of Oz again, and he was dutifully drawing something that he refused to show her.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m done.”

She finished her page and slipped the bookmark in, turning to him. “Can I see?”

“No, I drew this for you but you’re never allowed to look at it.” he teased, straight faced.

“Never?”

“Never.” He broke into a smile and shoved the sketch pad in her face.

It was a… Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what it was. There was some interesting shading, a tuft of what could either be grass or hair and a strange egg shaped blob in the middle.

She hoped her face didn’t show her emotions as she quickly schooled her features into a smile. “It’s great, Ced.”

He had a wide grin plastered on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I know. Now turn the page.”

She did as he said and blinked in shock, her jaw dropping. “There is no way you drew this.”

“I’ve been practising.”

“Have you been taking classes from freaking Van Gogh in between Quidditch practise?” she gaped, looking from the sketch of sunflowers and daisies and his beaming face.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “An artist never reveals his secrets.”

“I think that’s meant to be magician.”

“Same thing.” he waved her off. “Anyway, I know sunflowers are your favourite, and daisies are my favourite. So I combined them.”

“This is honestly incredible.” she gushed.

“Oh, stop it.”

“No, seriously.” She stood up. “Can I put it on my wall?”

“Go for it,” he beamed, somehow even brighter than before.

She gently pulled the page from the pad and ripped a tab of blu-tack off, sticking it to the wall above her desk. Once it was hung, she stepped back to admire it. “Oh!” she gasped. “You need to sign it!”

Cedric stood up and brushed past her, scribbling his signature on the bottom right corner with a small heart. “Happy?”

“Mhm.”

That should have been her second sign.

They stood side by side and admired it for a moment.

Then Morgan broke the silence.

“I can’t draw for shit,” she laughed. “And look at you. Mister Artist himself.”

“Oh, piss off,” he groaned, hugging her shoulders from behind and resting his chin on her head. “You can sing though. I can’t.”

“Liar.” she scoffed, patting his arm. “I’ve heard you sing. Besides, you’re practically perfect at everything you do.”

Just as he was about to respond, Cordelia burst through the lightly shut door, eyes still red and puffy. The two separated quickly. “Lunch is ready.”

“Thanks, Dells,” he nodded. “We’ll be right there.”

As she left, he wrapped an arm around Morgan’s shoulders and led her out. “God, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“Very funny.”

The Second Week

As with most summers, Morgan and Cedric spent almost every waking moment in each other’s company.

Unlike most summers, however, Morgan couldn’t chase the thoughts of a certain bet from her mind.

She knew, she knew, that there was nothing to it. That it was just her friends being annoying and messing with her and everything she’d started reading into was just in her head… But, God, was it hard to remember sometimes.

She was just worried that he’d find out. Maybe one of her friends would send her a letter mentioning it? (Not that he’d ever read her letters.) What if Liz came for a random visit? Or worse: what if she told her friends, the Weasley twins, and they came for a visit?

She chased her swirling thoughts from her mind as Cedric walked through the front door, performing the mental equivalent of shoving all of the mess in your room into the wardrobe and hoping it closed right.

“Hey,” she smiled, standing up with her bowl of milk that used to hold cereal. “You’re early.”

“It’s eleven o’clock.”

“Yeah, early,” she shrugged, setting the now empty bowl in the sink. “What’s up?”

“Wanna go into town?” he asked, leaning on the counter and gesturing to the fruit bowl.

She tossed him an apple. “Sure. When?”

“Now?”

She sighed heavily, half-joking. “A bit more warning would be nice. Lemme go get changed.”

“Yes!” he cheered through a mouthful of apple. “You’re the best, Mo!”

Mo? She wondered as she jogged up the stairs. Since when am I Mo?

If she’d been listening carefully, she would have heard Cedric bang his head against the kitchen counter.

The town was quiet as always.

A farmer’s market was dying down, most vendors packing their remaining wares and smiling sheepishly at Morgan and Cedric as they wove their way through the stunted stalls. They purchased a fresh bread roll and split it between them as they walked, both surprised that it was still warm.

“You know,” Cedric said after a few minutes of silence as they left the market and strolled along the main street. “We should do this more often.”

Morgan squinted as she looked up at him, the sun assaulting her eyes. “Really?” she asked dryly. “What, burn ourselves to a crisp and get blinded while we’re at it?”

“No, dummy. Do stuff.”

“What? You don’t like doing nothing with me?” she teased.

“No, no, I love doing nothing with you,” he stole a chunk of bread that she’d been eyeing up. “But I also like spending money.”

“I bought the bread. I was the one who spent the money.”

He gasped, as if he didn’t already know. “What? Really?”

“Shut up, Ced,” she smiled, pushing him and stealing the last chunk of bread from the packet.

Morgan was awake uncharacteristically early, so when she knocked on the Diggory’s front door, Cedric looked supremely confused.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “Did someone die?”

“No, why would you— You’re an arsehole, you know that?” she pouted.

“Yeah, I know. Come on.”

He led her down the short hallway and into the living area. Morgan sighed contentedly. The Diggory’s house always smelled amazing; a combination of vanilla, coffee and cleaning supplies that somehow worked. Cedric often smelled similar, she realised. The vanilla that clouded the house seemed to hang around him as well. She shook herself out of it as he began speaking.

“My dad’s gotten obsessed with the TV,” he admitted, nodding towards the man who was watching with a rapt expression. “He doesn’t really understand it, but he’s addicted. He really likes cricket. Probably because he can’t figure out how to change the channel.”

“Oh, I used to play cricket! I love it so much!” she gushed, joining Amos on the couch. “Who’s playing?”

“England and India,” he said distractedly.

“ODI, T20 or test?”

“Test. We’re on Day Two.”

“So England’s batted?”

“Three-thirty-seven.”

“Not bad,” she squinted at the numbers on the screen, showing one-twenty-eight for six.

“I have no idea what you guys are saying,” Cedric cut in, looking blankly between them.

“We’re talking sport,” Amos said, almost giddily.

Morgan didn’t spare either of them a glance as the English captain went upstairs for a review. “Yeah, get back in the kitchen.” She teased. “Go make us a sandwich.”

“I thought you were coming to hang out with me,” he almost pouted.

She finally dragged her eyes from the screen. “But… Cricket…”

He shook his head with a smile. “Right, of course. Two sandwiches coming right up.”

The Moment She Knew

Their days seemed doomed to repeat. Groundhog day, Morgan’s mum had called it. So, when she found a way to rid herself of the monotony of daily life, she took it without a second thought.

“Mum, please!”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll even get petrol! I’ll… I’ll… I’ll pay for it myself too!”

“Morgan…”

“Mum,” she pleaded. “It’s just me and Ced. It’s a twenty minute drive and I’ll get petrol on the way back. We’ll be back by four and I’ll wear suitable shoes while driving.”

Whitney Ridge pursed her lips in thought. Then she sighed. “Fine. Don’t bother getting petrol, I’ll fill up on the way home from work on Monday.”

Morgan squeaked in excitement, hugging her mum tightly. “Thank you! You’re the best! I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you too, Moggy,” she smiled.

True to her word, Morgan did wear suitable shoes. The drive ended up taking around twenty-five minutes, but she supposed her mother couldn’t fault her for driving just under the speed limit all the way there.

There was a secluded lake she’d found out about from an old magazine in her mum’s collection, when she’d been looking for something, anything, to make her days less boring.

“This is awesome,” Cedric breathed as they broke through the treeline and onto the rocky shore of the small lake.

“Yeah,” she sighed contentedly, breathing in the fresh air.

They set up their towels and supplies in the shade of a tree and pulled off their sturdy shoes.

Cedric pulled his shirt over his head. Morgan would be lying if she said her eyes didn’t catch on his muscles.

“Race you in,” he said as she had her own shirt halfway over her head.

“What?” she asked, hearing him run away. “Oh, you prick!”

She tossed her shirt on the ground, followed by her shorts, leaving her in her bikini, pouting as Cedric splashed around in the cool, blue water.

She stomped over to the water’s edge, frowning down at him. The rock she was standing on was about a metre above the surface, casting a navy shadow over the rippling water. He waded a few metres out from her.

“You coming?” he asked.

“No,” she pouted, folding her arms. “I don’t swim with cheaters.”

He barked a laugh, swimming over to the edge and pulling himself out. Droplets of water hit her skin.

She backed away. “Cedric…”

He took a step closer.

“Don’t you dare, Diggory…”

He tilted his head, grinning widely as he continued to step closer to her. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Sure, you don’t,” she pointed at him. “Stay back!”

He laughed and pushed off his heels, springing towards her. Before he could reach her, however, she turned tail and ran, feet skimming over the rocks as she raced for the safety of the towels.

She only managed to get a few steps away before he caught her, his cold arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her off the ground. He spun around, carrying her back to the edge of the water and tossing her into the lake.

She yelped as the cold water hit her, but remembered to hold her breath, her dark hair swirling around her face in the water. She heard the telltale sound of him jumping in too and forced herself up to the surface.

“I hate you!” she gasped, pushing her hair off her forehead. “I hate you so fucking much!”

“Liar!” he retorted, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere. “You love me.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, treading water and staring at him. “You wish,” she finally uttered.

He just smiled.

The days ticked by much faster than expected. Soon, Cedric was waving his parents off on their week-long trip and then hauling his bags over to Morgan’s house, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What did you do?” she immediately asked when they were alone.

He closed the door gently before skipping over to the bed in the guest bedroom he was staying in. He sat on it cross-legged, still smiling, and patted the mattress ahead of him.

When she finally sat down, he leaned forward.

“Guess what I bought,” he said.

She waited.

“You’re meant to ask,” he sighed.

“Oh, my bad,” she cleared her throat. “What did you bring, Cedric?”

He didn’t answer, simply reaching down to his backpack and pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey.

“That’s it? Oh, you sweet, sweet child,” she teased. “I have three of those in my room.”

“Sorry, Mo, not all of us are casual rulebreakers,” he sniffed.

She pushed his shoulder. “I’m kidding, Ced. I mean, technically, I’m not, but I do appreciate the sentiment.”

He poked his tongue out at her.

The Night Things Happened

The day started like any other.

Morgan and Cedric usually woke up at vastly different times, so when he woke up, he went for a run, had a shower and ate a light breakfast before going to wake her.

A lot of groaning and a few thrown pillows later, they were standing in the kitchen making pancakes.

As Morgan flipped another one, leading to Cedric cheering as if she’d never done it before, Whitney entered the kitchen.

“Morning, you two,” she greeted, kissing her daughter’s temple and patting Cedric’s shoulder. “Cords and I are going to that Girl Scouts sleepover tonight, remember? So you’ll have to make dinner yourselves.”

“Yup, we know, Mum,” Morgan said, taking the pancake out of the pan and slapping it onto a plate. “We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you burning the house down. Remember last time?”

“Mum.” She turned to her grimly. “We don’t talk about last time.”

Whitney raised her hands in surrender. “Right, right. But, on a more serious note. I shouldn’t have to tell you not to invite anyone else over and to be in bed by one, should I? And I won’t come home to drunk teenagers all over my house?”

“Nope, we’ll be all good, Ms Ridge,” Cedric shot her a winning smile.

She pursed her lips jokingly. “Mhm… Alright, I trust you two. I’m going to the shops, need anything?”

“We need more eggs.”

“Eggs, got it.”

The night was when things changed.

After Whitney and Cordelia were gone, at least long enough that it was unlikely they’d turn around and come back, they took their first swig of firewhiskey.

It burned its way down Morgan’s throat, like it always did. Cedric coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting it mouthful out.

She held back a laugh. “You alright, Golden Boy?”

“Shut up,” he seethed, voice hoarse.

She raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”

They sat and ate the pizza they’d ordered already, taking sips of firewhiskey whenever they felt like it.

Morgan closed her pizza box one slice after Cedric did, placing it on top of his on the coffee table. “You good?”

“Great,” he smiled dopily. It seemed the whiskey was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

She smiled back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She took a larger swig of whiskey, shaking her head at the strength. “I just wanna point out that if you get sick, I’m not cleaning you up. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.” He nodded, looking a little bit more put together. “I’d clean you up though. If you got sick.”

She smiled again. “Thanks, Ced.”

The night was going surprisingly well. They’d turned on the TV, both staring, fixated at Friends reruns, leaning heavily on each other. The bottle was half gone and, as the advertisements came on, they each took another swig.

Cedric was looking at her weird.

She straightened up, frowning in confusion. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he slurred slightly. “You’re just… Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Her heart fluttered. “Oh. So are you.”

He blushed, looking down. “Yeah, I know.”

Morgan couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Yeah, I bet you do, Goldie.”

“Goldie?”

“Golden Boy. It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“No, you’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are.”

“You are.”

“You…” he was very close to her now, his grey eyes darting between her brown eyes and her lips. “You’re very pretty, Mo. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“No, I don’t think you know how pretty you are. Like… When you laugh your eyes light up, and… And when you do that thing when you’re thinking… Where your eyebrow twitches… Oh, and that thing you do… The thing when your favourite songs come on and you tap your legs really fast…”

Morgan swallowed tightly as his hand brushed her cheek. His breath smelled of firewhiskey, but she was sure hers did too.

He wasn’t looking at her eyes anymore. “You’re incredible, Morgan. And you deserve to know that.”

“Cedric…” she started.

“Sh,” he cut her off. He was hardly an inch away now. “Don’t talk. Just…”

Friends came back on the TV.

“Just watch Friends with me.” He leaned back, looping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her flush against his side.

She tried with all her might to ignore her pounding heart.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to win this bet after all. In fact, she thought she might have just lost it already.

The Rainy Days

Neither Morgan or Cedric had brought up what he’d said that night, but it hung in the air between them, stagnant and stiff, leaving awkwardness to rest in the growing distance.

It was odd, Morgan realised. One moment, they were closer than ever before, hugging for a second too long, soft touches as hands brushed, then the next, they were sitting at opposite ends of a metaphorical couch, shooting furtive glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

It was confusing, and Morgan was conflicted.

She almost wanted to bring it up. She knew he remembered, that much was clear. It was obvious in the subtlest of looks, the gentlest of touches, the softest of smiles. But sometimes, it would leap to the forefront of his mind and, cheeks red, eyes downcast, he would retreat into himself.

And so, neither Morgan or Cedric brought it up.

No matter how much they may have wanted to.

The days passed in almost comfortable normalcy.

There were no trips to the lake or the town, just sitting and enjoying each other’s company.

She and Cordelia taught him how to play Last Card on a thundery Tuesday, all pouting out the window at the storm.

“I hate thunder,” Cedric shuddered. “It’s the worst to play Quidditch in too.”

“I don’t think it’s safe to play in thunder,” Morgan huffed, collecting the cards after he won again. “I mean, lightning strikes the highest object, right? And look what happened to Harry last season.”

“Yeah, that was horrible,” he cringed, taking the cards from her and shuffling them. “Although that was the Dementors too.”

She pulled a face. “Still not an excuse. It really isn’t safe.”

Cordelia looked between them in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You remember Quidditch, right?” Cedric asked. “On the broomsticks.”

She nodded slowly. “Did you know that witches riding broomsticks used to be a euphemism for riding the devil’s—”

“—Oh-kay, that’s enough cards for today!” Morgan cut in. “Cords, why don’t you go grab a board game, yeah?”

“Okay!” she chirped, dancing off upstairs.

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief and slumped in her chair.

Cedric shot her an amused look.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

When Morgan saw a person running towards her house without an umbrella in the pouring rain, she decided they were an idiot.

Then the figure got closer and she realised that it was her idiot.

“God, Cedric, you dipshit,” she whispered, dropping the knife she was using to butter her toast on the bench and running to the door, grabbing a towel from a clean pile on the way.

She opened the door just as he reached the front steps, having to grip onto the handle tight so that the wind didn’t rip it from its hinges.

“What are you doing?” she asked over the downpour, letting him inside and handing him the towel.

“I swear it didn’t start raining until I was halfway here.” His teeth were chattering. “Gotta love English weather.”

She shook her head in defeat. “Shut up and go take a hot shower. I’ll bring you something to wear.”

He didn’t even move to object, shuffling towards the bathroom instantly.

Morgan left a bundle of warm clothes outside the door and sat on the couch to wait.

Thankfully, she wasn’t alone with her thoughts for very long.

Cedric padded into the room with his hair wet and messy and in a hoodie that he’d left at her house a few weeks before. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Are you okay?” she handed him a blanket as he sat down next to her.

He nodded. He looked significantly less cold than before. “Merlin, the last time I was this cold was when you pushed me into the Black Lake.”

“I didn’t push you, you slipped.”

“Yeah, right,” he huddled closer to her, making her tense up briefly. The last time they were this close on the couch…

“Hey, Morgan…” he said quietly after a few beats.

“Hm?”

“About that night—”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to—”

“No, I think we should—”

“Cedric,” she said firmly. “Don’t worry about it. You were drunk. It’s okay.”

He paused, studying her like he was committing all of her features to memory. She knew she was doing that for him. “Okay.”

They sat in silence, watching the rain stream down the window.

The Confession

Morgan had a confession to make.

First, to herself: she liked Cedric—No. She was in love with Cedric.

It was the way he said her name like it was made of porcelain, fragile, delicate. It was the way their bodies fit perfectly together when they hugged, their bodies and hands made for holding each other. It was the way he looked at her, that night and every day since—every day ever, actually; like she’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky. It was the way he made her feel safe.

Was that so difficult?

Yes, a nagging voice in the back of her mind muttered. You’re going to be twenty galleons more broke because of your stupid feelings.

Maybe, she countered. But I don’t even care anymore.

Her next confession would be to Cedric. That was slightly more difficult.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have the opportunity; they were almost always at each other’s houses. It was more to do with the issue of her being too scared. She shied away from admitting it every time she thought she was ready, pushing her feelings down and down until they were compressed under a pile of anxiety.

So, the confession was going well. Really well.

She stole another glance at him across the room, peering over her book to find him already staring at her. She withheld a squeak and looked back down, sinking lower into her end of the couch.

“Alright, what is it?” he asked, slipping a bookmark between the pages and setting his book on the end table.

“What is what?” She didn’t take her eyes off her book, pretending to read with her eyes locked on one phrase: ‘I love you.’

Is it that easy? She asked herself. I just say it?

Cedric leaned forward and pushed her book down. “Well, either that page is very interesting or you suddenly can’t read, because you haven’t turned the page in about twenty minutes.”

“I’m absorbing it properly,” she lifted it back up but he pushed it down again.

“Absorbing it, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, my other thought was that you were so distracted staring at me every five seconds that you forgot to actually read.”

She dropped her book, struggling to catch it and sending it careening onto the floor. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. “No.”

He was smiling, that soft, almost smug smile that she’d fallen in love with. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh, because from here, it looked like you were staring at me.”

She sat up straight. “Really? How odd.”

“Hmm…” he smiled a bit brighter. God, she wanted to kiss him. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as he leaned back.

“Shame, because I was actually quite flattered.”

“Oh, I bet you were,” she scoffed.

He leaned back into the couch, opening his book agonisingly slow.

Morgan stared at him, legs crossed and brows furrowed. Her head was swirling with thoughts, all repeating, Cedric, Cedric, Cedric. She’d never wanted to kiss someone so bad, to just hold someone. She’d never, ever in her life, wanted to lose a bet.

His grey eyes flickered up to her once, then twice, then again. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, what the fuck,” she muttered, pushing herself forward and pressing her lips to his.

He dropped his book, the hardback thudding dully on the floor right next to hers, but neither cared. His hands found their place on her waist as she leaned over him, one arm supporting her on the wall behind him, the other entangled in his brown hair.

Butterflies danced in Morgan’s stomach, her heart racing wildly as their lips melded together. It was like they were made to kiss each other; the way they fit so perfectly, the curve of her cheek and the straight line of his nose. All of her swirling thoughts subsided, leaving only one: Cedric.

God, she never wanted to stop kissing him. He was like sugar; tantalising, sweet, addictive.

He pulled away first, thumb digging subtly into her hip, lips parted and gasping for air. “Morgan…”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, unable to find her voice. “But I couldn’t wait another—”

He kissed her again, more passionate; noses knocking, hearts pounding, hair standing on end. She wondered how she got so lucky. God, she was lucky.

This kiss was more intense, all those weeks of pent up emotion, released in that moment.

She never wanted it to end.

But, as her lungs gasped for air and her head began to swim, she pulled away. He chased her lips, pressing a final, sweet kiss to them, before resting his head back again.

“Never apologise for that,” he breathed. “Never.”

“Got it,” she whispered, eyes tracing a pattern in his faint freckles. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“Amazing at kissing?” he tilted his head.

“Just amazing in general.” She kissed him again.

The Pay-Up

Morgan had twenty galleons ready the second she set foot on the Hogwarts Train only a few weeks later. Cedric was holding her free hand as they wove past loitering students and nervous first years until they found Lizzie and Camila.

“Hey, Morgan, Cedric,” Lizzie raised her eyebrow at them.

Camila saw their connected hands and started prodding her arm.

“Hey, guys,” she smiled brightly. “Just paying up.”

She tossed Lizzie the bag of galleons and turned to Camila. “Sorry, I made the first move.”

“Liar,” she pointed at her. “Cedric, please tell me she’s lying.”

“Nope,” he let her hand go and wrapped it around her waist instead. “She kissed me first.”

Camila groaned, digging through her bag. “Fuck.”

As Lizzie danced in victory and Camila complained about Morgan finding her balls, Morgan had to admit, she had never been happier to lose a bet.

[powderblueblood]

got thinking about my monkeys paw edlacy au where they become successful professionals in new york (eddie, the founder of necromancer records; lacy, a fran lebowitz-type social commentator and sometimes new yorker columnist) but call off their engagement and end up acting like bitter divorcees (hate fucking and jealousy lmao)

and ended up banging this out idk

pairing: eddie munson x f!oc, written in second person immersive (you/yours)

wc: actually cba to check. it’s short

warnings: p in v, unprotected, office sex, hate fucking sort of, spit kink (m receiving)

eddie has your legs butterflied on a desk you’d wasted no time in insulting the second you walked through the door.

‘where’d you find this? a beer hall? this looks like it has about as much structural integrity as that piece of shit driftwood throne you used to sit on in high school—‘

but he’d swallowed your words with a hurried, ‘pipe down and open up, doevski,’ insisting on his tongue down your throat. a rendezvous like this (that shouldn’t be happening—you’d given the ring back, why are they still happening) require an awareness of his peripherals, so out of the corner of his eye, he can see where you’d neatly hung your skirt over the arm of his office sofa. it’s custom YSL, gifted from the last mucky magazine to-do you’d done, and it was too good to let him tear it off you. your panties were a different story, the shredded remnants of them now rucked up around your waist.

“why don’t you ever come by anymore?” eddie asks between breathless thrusts, mesmerised by your tits bouncing out of your unbuttoned blouse. god, he loves you like this. smart-rail me-casual. he should have asked you to bring a ruler to spank him with, but you would’ve liked that too much and he can’t acquiesce to you completely.

what with you being exes.

“i don’t come,” you gasp, entertaining his bullshit line of thinking, “by anymore because this is hostile territory. one of your little record company groupies called me a prep cunt the last time i was here. and she spat on me.”

a guttural sound gets coaxed out of eddie, and the flash of offense across your face is just too good. the thought of you getting verbally assaulted by some necromancer records acolyte isn’t a jolt to the balls (his fans are rabid and learned and hate you, vocally)—thinking of how angry that must’ve made you is. your cunt reflexively tightens around him and his jaw tightens back.

“if the stupid red bottom shoe fits—“

“—yes, but i could live without the spitting, eddie—“

“fuck, don’t say my name. yet.”

it’d be punishment if he didn’t live to have you choking him out like this.

“hol—hold on, this you sayin’ you’re not into spitting anymore?” he grits out, throbbing like a fucking injury inside of you. eddie’s hoping he leaves handprints where those flimsy webbed panties used to sit on your hips.

a blowback of a laugh leaves your mouth, and eddie wants to shove it back in with his tongue, but you grab the back of his head. “that you saying please?”

you tug; he tilts. he whines before he can stop it. god, he hates you—god, he needs this before he’s got to spend the rest of the day listening to shitty demo tapes.

“please,” he breathes.

you grin like the viper you are—so he promises himself to fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it from the time you struggle to walk out of his office to the time you sit on letterman’s guest chair later. social commentator. cultural critic. know-it-all bitch. love of his life.

“please, lace.” his poor, ragged mouth—the way you grab at his chin almost looks sympathetic, how raptured you are by his desperation. you can’t deny it, he knows that. he appeals to your fragile ego, you box his boisterous one down…

and say things like, “open wide, eddie.”

[bobgasm]

wip wednesday

rules: post the titles of your wips and run a poll to see what you should focus on first based on the titles alone

tagging: @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman

[ohmypawsandwhiskers]

WIP Wednesday

Here’s a snippet of the next chapter for Of Devils and Monsters, ft. a flashback scene with a young teenage Erwin and Lozen (Dani)!

The jab of a sharp elbow to the ribs broke the boy’s deep sleep under a canopy of stars and sent him flying upright with a gasp.

“Shh.” He found the girl crouched beside his bedroll, pressing a finger to his lips as he almost let out a yelp of surprise. And while her bidy was facing towards him, her golden eyes remained focused on some point behind him. Scanning. Anticipating as her body remained taught like a bow string ready to fire.

Erwin followed her gaze, looking over his shoulder to see familiar faces perched around their camp- some in trees or crouched behind the boulders that dotted the mountain-side, others layed belly down in the untamed forest vegetation with arrows aimed at the same treeline that had Dani so alert.

He turned his attention back to Dani for answers, his mind grasping at the motions he’d have to sign before putting to use the silent language he was only starting to grasp, only to find her previous spot at his side vacant. Erwin’s mind reeled for an explanation- some kind of context to frame the situation in which he found himself.

He had left his district with the Circle. Deciding to spend his summer among like-minded people to learn everything he could, and to find a sort of refuge that encouraged curiosity rather than stifle it. They were two days out, heading towards the Circle in the mountains for some form of festival to welcome in the new season, but not before they warned him of the danger that the wildlife would pose before fully committing to bring him along.

Is that what had everyone on edge? A bear? Maybe a mountain lion? Dani’s father, Chief chose this spot to camp for the night due to the safety it offered, having no signs of anything larger than mountain goats on the outcropping that had the mountain face protecting their backs. The last thing Erwin could recall was dozing off while listening to one of Chief’s stories about a little bear boy spirit returning to the sun after giving his brother new life. It all seemed peaceful- easy.

Now, it was too still; too dark as shadows eclipsed shapes and distorted forms to play tricks on the mind- a swaying shrub or a lurking predator? There was no breeze to stir the air that hanged heavy in humid anticipation.

A few meters to his right, a snapping twig accompanied the shifting undergrowth, causing him to press his body closer to the dirt floor, willing his lanky shape to blend into his surroundings as though it would be enough to hide him from whatever danger lurked along the camp’s edge. For a moment, the fear that managed to creep into his chest and burrow deep in his racing heart made him wish to be back in his own bed at the orphanage- there, at least, the only danger was prying eyes and ears, searching for any form of heresy. Here… here was unfamiliar, leaving him vulnerable and grasping in the actual and metaphorical dark for any thread of understanding. It was a reminder of his status as an outsider. He might’ve been welcomed along on this excursion, but there was a world between him and Dani’s relatives.

That understanding was suddenly underscored by a thrum of a bowstring and a hollow thud as the arrow found its target. The stillness dissolves into chaos as dozens more follow in the seconds after, accompanied by startled screams as shadows took down formless entities with quiet, ruthless efficiency.

Erwin noticed the hair on the back of his neck raise a fraction of a second too late and yelps as he found himself being yanked up to his feet by the back of his night shirt. The intruder’s grasp faltered a moment later, sending Erwin face first into the rocky dirt as the intruder stumbled. A metallic taste filled his mouth, but he paid no mind to the new taste as adrenalin kicked in, urging him back to his feet in time to see Dani dangling off a tall figure’s back. She slots an arm under the writhing figure’s chin in a vice-like hold while her free hand clawed around to where eyes should be. As her nails found their target, the figure bellowed out in rage before grabbing Dani by the arm that was wrapped around their throat to fling her to the ground in front of them.

Going to kick off a no-pressure tagging spree with this one! @topaz-carbuncle @askweisswolf @l3visthighs @sleepy-sham @killerpillar @nekht and anyone else that would like to join in!

[sttoru]

ima tell u this now : if u hate on x reader fics, block me cus by doing that you r doing us both a great favour 🤚🏽 ion need any of ur negativity on my blog because this is a safe space for people who do enjoy x reader fics goodbye

[czlowiek-lasu]

Big reckless yautja wife is back

[loonfull-sonnetzz]

Anyone who writes transmasc! Reader fanfics deserves a sweet kiss on the cheek

[strwbrryhtl]

Blessed are the Meek that Seek Absolution - Chapter 3

Claudia sat as her father huffed around their sitting room, his business partners all smoking cigars and drinking the whiskey her father had imported from Ireland once a month. She had heard the same story of men coming onto the boat they were playing poker on and stealing whatever they could at least ten times now. If hearing the same redundant story could make ears bleed, she figured her brains would’ve melted down the side of her face by now.

“Claudia, did you hear me?” Her fathers words snapped her out of her trance and she looked up from where here eyes had focused on her shoes and she looked at her father almost glass eyed.

“Sorry father, which part?” She mumbled and noticed how the men were all staring at her as Elizabeth came in to clear the whiskey glasses. Claudia wished in that moment she could leave the room as easily as Elizabeth could.

“I said I don’t want you going out, not while there’s trouble around.  Seriously, fifteen men boarding two ferry’s and clearing them in less than ten minutes!” William said and ran a hand over his face and Claudia could only stare down at her hands.

“I mean no one was hurt,” she mumbled and she could hear her father turn towards her. “It’s only money you lost, not like they robbed one of the banks where you have an account and drained it,” she said and looked at her father with wide eyes as he stalked closer to her.

“That money put you through one of the finest schools in New York, it puts this roof over your head and food in your belly. Without money you’d be like one of the drunks at the saloon, picking pockets or having to sell yourself to get by,” William said through gritted teeth as he took her chin roughly in his hand. “You will not go out, not alone anyways. You didn’t see those men and what they were capable of Claudia, last thing I need is you becoming some lowlifes’ meal ticket,” he said and pushed her back against the couch.

Claudia had never been so roughly handled by her father, even when her mother was alive. Her mother was the one to calm him down before he could reach this point, she always figured any of her fathers anger would eventually be taken out on her mother. Her hand cradled her chin and she stood quietly, her father already turning his attention back to his guests as she left the sitting room. Her eyes welled with tears that fell quietly as she went to the kitchen, sitting down at the small table and staring down at her hands.

“Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth turned and raised her eyebrow as Claudia stared at her hands and how she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Why are you sniffling?”

Claudia shook her head and looked at the older woman sadly, her eyes glazed over as tears slowly ran from the inner corners of her eyes and down over the curve of her lip. “Why does he hate me? What did I ever do to him?”

“Your father doesn’t hate you,” Elizabeth said and sat next to Claudia, the tumbler in her hand being abandoned at the kitchen sink. Elizabeth leaned her head down to Claudia and sucked her teeth, already noticing two visible fingerprints at the girl’s jaw. “He’s just a man.”

“He sent me to New York when mama died, not even two weeks after,” she mumbled as Elizabeth dried hopelessly at the steady stream of tears. “I didn’t get a chance to grieve, I was put into writing and reading classes and taught how to mend a quilt for the next six years of my life,” she mumbled and looked at the older woman sadly. “Do I remind him of her? Is that why he hates me?”

Elizabeth leaned back in her seat as Claudia’s lip shook harder and she watched the young girl put her hands over her mouth as she cried harder, her body shaking as she stayed quiet while sobs rocked into her core. Elizabeth had known Claudia’s mother, she was a saint, a woman that everyone adored and wanted to be. Claudia’s mother and Elizabeth had grown close during the time she was employed for her, and never once did she witness Claudia’s father act in any sort of malicious way. Any time her father would get drunk or the slightest overwhelmed, Claudia’s mother was there to calm the man down, bring him back to earth with her angel like demeanor. And as Claudia sat in front of her, shaking herself into hysterics, Elizabeth knew that Claudia lacked everything that made her mother her mother.

“Your father…and men in general, they want control, Claudia,” Elizabeth said and leaned towards her, pulling Claudias hands from her mouth and looking in her bloodshot eyes. “Your father couldn’t control your mother, she was too much of a kind spirit to be controlled. But I look at you and see your mother, with how you help people in town and how smart you are, spending all that free time of yours reading medical journals and what have you,” Elizabeth said quietly and carefully put her hand over Claudia’s cheek where her father had grabbed. “He’s too blind to see that you’re just like your mother because of his own grief. And some people get that way, and they change. Or they stay like your father and grow bitter with resentment and do what they must so they can stay in control.”

“I just don’t understand why though. In all my classes and all the reading, I never heard of a man act out against his daughter or wife.”

“Then you must have read some lovely fantasy, Claudia,” Elizabeth said and stroked her cheek, watching as Claudia moved her head into her hand. “Tomorrow we can go to town, alright? Go to see what they’re making at the seamstress and see if anything new has come into the general store.”

“But father said- “

“Your father said you can’t go out alone. I’ll be with you and it’ll be daylight out, highly doubt anyone is dumb enough to go and rob stores in a town like Blackwater during the day.” Elizabeth gave Claudia a smile and pat her cheek gently. “Go to bed, I’ll be up shortly once I’m done cleaning for these men.”

Claudia stood and wiped at her eyes, still looking down at her hands. “You promise I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“It’s not us who is wrong most of the time dear, it’s them,” Elizabeth said as she turned back to the kitchen sink full of whiskey tumblers and Claudia listened to the soft clinking of crystal on porcelain as she walked up the stairs.

As she readied for bed, she looked at the photograph on her nightstand of her and her mother when she was a little girl. She must’ve been seven or eight years old in the picture as she stood behind her mother who held her small hand that rested on her shoulder. Looking up into the mirror, Claudia saw so much of her mother in herself it hurt her heart that her mother couldn’t see who she had grown up to become. Elizabeth said that Claudia reminded her of her mother, but more than anything she would give away every piece of her fathers’ investments to hear those words come from her mother’s mouth.

She drifted off to sleep, the sounds of boots and deep voices on the porch being the last thing she heard for the night. As she woke the next morning, her back ached and she sat slowly, staring ahead at the window that overlooked the small harbor of Blackwater. She must’ve slept wrong, probably cried herself to sleep and didn’t realize it.

Rising from bed and putting on her dressing gown, Claudia immediately went to the medicine cupboard and began to rummage around, pulling out bandages and needles, empty tincture bottles and dried up herbs she remembered Elizabeth swearing up and down she had boiled down for medicine. But there were no full bottles of tincture, no tins of salve for her back and she sighed. The clock across the hallway read six, and Elizabeth didn’t wake until eight at the latest. Looking into the hallway and taking a deep breath, there was no smell of coffee brewing and no quite conversation of her father reading the headlines in the morning paper out to Elizabeth.

“Store is open at six thirty, takes me ten minutes to walk and five minutes to dress,” Claudia mumbled to herself as she hurried back to her room and sat down at her vanity. She pushed away her current knitting project, the scarf she started the day after she met that kind man at the general store and pulled at her box of hair supplies. Running the brush through her hair she mumbled to herself as she grabbed a ribbon out and quickly pulled her hair onto the top of her hair in a bun and tied it off. She kept mumbling how long it would take for her to get to the store and back to herself as she took off her sleeping gown and put on her undergarments and chemise. If she cared what she looked like at six in the morning she would’ve bothered with a corset. Her dress went on quickly and she pulled on a worn leather jacket, something Elizabeth said belonged to her mother and Claudia nuzzled her sore cheek into the shoulder as she put her boots on.

Looking back at the time, it was now six fifteen. Looking somewhat presentable in fifteen minutes was a new record for Claudia, not like she needed to brag about how long it took to dress. Peeking her head into the hallway, there was still no sign of morning activity and she quickly grabbed her satchel and went down the back stairs to the kitchen and slipped out the kitchen door. As she ran down the path towards town the last thing in her mind was why the door wasn’t locked when her father normally kept the key on his person at all times and locked every door before he went to bed.

By the time Claudia made it to the store, the clerk was turning over the open sign and he smiled as Claudia leaned against the post out front. “You’re here extra early Ms. DuPont,” he laughed and Claudia gave a weak smile before coughing into her hand. She was never one for running, always choosing to find some excuse in school as to why it would be too difficult for her.

“Need medicine, nothing special just for pain,” she finally was able to breathe out and followed the clerk inside and looked around the empty store. She noticed few people milling about out front but she stared at the white and brown spotted horse outside the window. “Who does that horse belong to?”

“Man staying at the saloon, they didn’t have any room in the stable for her so I let him leave her there until he can find a place for her,” the clerk said and Claudia heard him naming off brands of morphine and opium for her to try.

“Pretty horse,” she mumbled and looked at it through the mirror, smiling as it looked up at her and curled its lip up like it was smiling. “Did you catch the mans name?”

“Callahan,” the clerk said and watched Claudia come over, holding her hand out to sign the receipt for the medicine. “Think it was that fella you had put the violin strings on your tab,” he said and Claudia looked at him as she signed her fathers name.

“Oh, Mr. Callahan,” she said and felt her cheeks burn slightly. Hopefully she still looked tired from running down the hill. “Uhm…if you see him can you tell him I say hello? And hope his shoulder is healing,” Claudia said as she took the morphine and shoved it into her satchel.

“You can tell him, he’s walking toward the horse,” the clerk said and Claudia was embarrassed at how quickly her head turned to see the man walk towards the horse, a slight limp in his gait. She quickly thanked the clerk and went outside, leaning awkwardly against the post. “Hi, Arthur,” she said and smiled as Arthur pulled a brush out of his satchel. “I like your horse.”

“Oh, hello Miss DuPont,” he said and tipped his hat at her and smiled. “This is Boadicea,” he said and carefully ran the brush from the top of her head down her long slender neck. “What brings you to town so early?”

Claudia watched as he methodically brushed out the horse and she took a deep breath as she felt the pain from this morning creep into her back. “Oh uhm, needed some morphine,” she said and held her satchel up. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“Boadicea needs to walk around, might go do some hunting for the butcher and pick up some extra money,” Arthur said and looked over to Claudia. “Would you like a ride home?”

Claudia looked back to the hill where her house was and then back at Arthur, nodding slightly. “I’ve uhm…I only know how to ride side saddle though.”

“Oh there’s no need to worry about none of that side saddle stuff, Boadicea won’t buck you or nothing,” Arthur chuckled and quickly put the brush away before fishing an apple out of his satchel and letting Boadicea munch on it lazily before he mounted her. “Give me your hand.”

Claudia took a deep breath and looked down at herself before walking over to Arthur and grabbing his outstretched hand. She yelped in slight surprise as he easily lifted her off the ground and helped situate her behind him. “You do that a lot?”

“I’ve got practice,” Arthur chuckled as Claudia held onto his arm and mumbled to herself as she got comfortable on the horses rear. “Used to have another lady ride with me, but she would have put up a bit more of a fight about getting on.”

Claudia huffed and held onto Arthur as she pushed herself closer to him so she wouldn’t fall off. “Sounds like a smart woman.”

“Debatable,” Arthur mumbled under his breath and glanced back as Claudia looked around at the waking countryside. “You okay there Miss DuPont?”

“Yes,” she said and took a deep breath and looked at him, smiling slightly. “How is your shoulder? You pulled me up with your hurt arm.”

“Oh it’s better, nothing those stitches and a couple days rest couldn’t fix,” Arthur shrugged and focused back on the route ahead of them. Arthur kept his eyes on the road but he could still feel Claudia’s eyes on him, wet like peaches as he felt her breath on his neck and looking at the potential bruise that along the back of his spine.

As they approached the DuPont home, Claudia felt her own spine stiffen more than it already was as she saw her father standing on the porch, his pistol in hand. “Shit,” she mumbled under her breath and grabbed Arthur’s arm tightly. “That’s my father, he’s going to kill me.”

“Oh come on why would your father – “

“Claudia DuPont you get your ass here right this instant! Sneaking out of the god damn house at the crack of dawn!” Her father shouted and aimed the pistol at Arthur who immediately held his hands up as Claudia fell to the ground awkwardly from the panic. “Who the hell are you?!”

“Arthur Callahan sir, just bringing the young lady home,” Arthur said as Claudia stepped away from Boadicea who stomped her foot into the ground. “She was at the general store buying some medicine.”

“Claudia?” Her father shouted, eyes still on Arthur as Claudia opened up her satchel and with trembling hands held up the two bottles she purchased. “Why the hell did you leave?”

“M-my back hurt,” she squeaked out and glanced at Arthur who kept his eyes on her father. “You can talk to Mr. Garrison down at the general store, he can tell you I’m not lying!”

“Mr. DuPont, it’s just some medicine,” Arthur chuckled and watched as William waved her inside, his hand pushing at her back roughly before closing the door behind him. Arthur felt his hand form into a slight fist as he lowered his arms.

William lowered his gun slowly, his eyes trained on Arthur who rubbed along the side of Boadicea’s head. “Why should I believe the word of some…drifter?”

“Well the people at the saloon, and the jail, and the general store, and about every other store in town can tell you that I’m an honest man,” he said and walked towards her father slowly. “I’m just passing through, doing odd jobs until I can get some steady income.”

“And how long have you been doing that in Blackwater?” William was feeling rightly paranoid after what had happened on the ferry, and though Arthur didn’t appear to be like the kind of person who would rob a ferry, he couldn’t trust anyone he didn’t know at the moment.

“Couple weeks. Was traveling from up north and found myself injured,” Arthur said as he stood at the bottom step of the porch. He glanced towards the window and saw four eyes peeing from behind the lace curtains of the sitting room, two heads moving frantically as they looked between the other. “Really sir if you don’t believe me you can talk to the manager at the saloon, I’ve rented a room there for the time being.”

William watched Arthur, his hand stroking his chin slightly. “Why’d you bring up the jail then?”

“Noticed some bounties were posted outside when I was walking by and looking for available rooms,” Arthur shrugged. “I can handle a gun, mostly for protection,” he said and looked down as William tucked the pistol into his belt. Arthur figured a man that rich had no idea how to use such a small handgun, the thing might not have even been loaded.

“Well excuse me for my…outburst but if you’ve been around town you might have heard of some of the problems that have occurred recently. People being robbed and some of the coaches coming in with hurt drivers, that sort of thing,” William said and glanced back towards the window and let out a breath as the curtains quickly shut. “Claudia and our maid, I just need to keep them safe.”

“Understand sir, your daughter though was just getting medicine – “

“And how is it you know my daughter?”

Arthur stood up slightly and rubbed at his hurt shoulder, wincing to himself. “I was uh, I was at the general store and she offered me some free medical advice,” he chuckled.

William rolled his eyes and just nodded. “Sounds like my Claudia, putting her nose where it doesn’t need to be. I’m sorry if she bothered you or told you something wrong, but you – “

“Actually she was able to help me a hell of a lot more than the doctor did,” Arthur said and smiled, putting one foot on the first step of the porch and watching William. “Kind girl, your daughter.”

William bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, stepping back towards the house. “Well thank you for bringing her home…I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name so I can make sure you’re not some thug with the sheriff.”

Arthur took another step up the porch and smiled smugly at William, his eyes studying the face of the rich man and he could only see layers of hidden greed and power hungriness. He had seen that face plenty in his life already.

“Arthur Callahan. And you, you’re William DuPont, correct? The lumber king of these parts?”

William stared at the younger man who slowly inched his way up the porch and froze in his place. “Someone in town call me that?”

“Only a few, when I asked who the kind girl was who helped me,” Arthur said and turned as Boadicea began to stomp at the ground. “It was nice meeting you, hope your daughter feels better,” Arthur said and backed away from the house and mounted Boadicea quickly. He could see the curtains were pulled again and he tipped his hat to Claudia who watched from the sitting room as he rode away.

The front door opened and slammed quickly and she turned to see her father pushing the deadbolt into place. “The nerve of that man I mean really!”

“What did he do, father?”

William huffed as he took the pistol and slammed it down into the side table drawer before looking at Claudia. “You better hope that he is who he says he is, Claudia.”

She stared at him in confusion as he mumbled his way into the kitchen, pushing past a confused Elizabeth who held a tea cup for Claudia. “Mixed the medicine into your tea…what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, but if that Arthur fellow can get father worked up like this I might want to see him again soon,” she said quietly and drank her tea, feeling an almost instant relief from the medicine.

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Never to Return:

Chapter 26: “Tongue soiled in Adulation🔞”

Long time no update here on Tumblr! Don’t worry, the story is ongoing, but I don’t always advertise it here and/or on Twitter.

I now have new food for you. It’s NSFW, so MDNI! 🔞

If you haven’t already, I highly recommend reading the whole story!

The Don is hungry…

Read chapter 26 here

Read chapter 1 here

Mid you’re interested in more smutty fics and one shots featuring the Cardinal, here is my masterlist.