#golden gang is finally together again and happy

[sleep-not-needed]

Bella Poarch - Villain and You'll be back from Hamilton are both afterhours!Kab coded and I stand by that

KAB KABOODE !!!! DROP MORE AFTER HOURS LORE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!!! Yeah just "I'll be the villian tonight, I kinda like when you despise me after we fight" she does not give a fuck who she hurts she doesnt care hell she enjoys it she loves the power she has and she'll do anything to get more. Both these songs show a sort of possesiveness I feel like connects to Kabs need to have souls. To have power. Sighs . Something is deeply wrong with her/pos

[comphy-and-cozy]

The After Party II

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again. Part two to The After Party.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, mild cumplay. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Author's Note: happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! I hope your bday gang bang 2.0 makes this year's celebration one to remember. thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for all of your unwavering support. 😘🖤

nhl masterlist | moodboard

The party is unlike one you’ve ever been to. Like a themed sorority bid night, but with a much higher budget; the decor is elaborate, a sea of blacks and reds and glitter. Candles illuminate the room, making the atmosphere feel dark. Ornate. Indulgent.

Your boyfriend dons a black leather jacket and black jeans that accentuate his thick thighs. His jacket is completely unzipped, revealing more than a tantalizing sliver of his toned, golden muscles; they’re all but bare, the deep cut lines of his abdomen, an opportunity to show off his impressive body. The silver cross branded on his bare sternum is a stark contrast to the crown of thorns perched on his head. Judas.

Your dress contrasts his outfit entirely; lace and ivory wrapped around your body, the corset bodice hugging your figure. It’s demure, but the gold necklace—a 37 sitting prettily on your exposed chest—draws the eye down to your cleavage, a sexy twist to the otherwise sweet, shy, virtuous look. Thick, feathery wings glitter on your back, enhancing the angelic look, complete with a pretty, glittering rhinestone crown—symbolic of a halo. 

A light to his dark, day to his night, heaven to his hell. Andrei’s angel. 

His brand on you runs far deeper than his name etched onto your back at his games, and though your claim on him is invisible, he wears it proudly on his chest, seizing every opportunity to show you off as his girl. It’s been there since before he made you his girlfriend, officially, but it’s only grown since then in the last year that you’ve been together.

Tonight is no exception. Andrei’s hand lingers on your side, a silent message to anyone who would dare to question who you belong to. You’re not typically one for the whole possession thing, but you can’t deny him—not when he looks at you like that.

You mingle, sipping on your cocktail, enjoying the night of frivolity—one of the last before the final push of the season and preparation for playoffs begins. Nykki and Martin make their way to you two, and eventually, the two boys depart in favor of who knows what shenanigans. 

Across the room, talking to two pretty leather-clad demons, is the handsome brunette from your past. His handsome, warm smile is plastered across his face, no doubt letting some pretty words doused in honey drip from his mouth. You ignore the pang of—something—that bubbles in your chest at the sight, not even wanting to spend the time identifying what it is.

As if he can sense it, his eyes glance up and lock with yours for the briefest of moments. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he lifts his beer to his mouth, winking so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it. The next moment, he’s back to his flirtatious antics, laughing jovially at the taller of the two girls flanking either side of him.

You return to your conversation with Nykki, though you feel his gaze flitting back to you, burning a hole in your side, tempting you to look his way. Glittering disco balls hang from the ceiling, illuminating the walls with the light from the candles’ flames, and you ignore the urge to glance over at him again.

“Your outfit is so cute,” Nykki’s saying, fingers caressing the feathers on your wings. “And I love your wings!”

With a smile, you thank her. “I was going for a bit of a sexy angel vibe, you know?”

“I’m sure Andrei appreciates that very much,” she replies with a knowing smirk and a gentle nudge of your elbow. You chance a look back to the corner of the room, but the handsome brunette you’ve been making eyes at is gone; you don’t dare to turn your head to look for him, not standing next to Nykki. 

Soon enough, she gets called away, and you’re left alone, uncomfortably vulnerable at a party where you still don’t quite feel like you belong, despite having attended several events as Andrei’s other half. Swirling the ice in your cocktail glass, you’re about to down the rest of your drink so that you can head back to the bar before you search for your boyfriend. As the rim of the glass touches your lips, you feel a looming presence approach your left side.

“Should’ve known you’d copy me,” says a voice that you know all too well. Out of instinct, your head turns and you’re blessed with the sight of Brady, up close and personal. His dark hair, peppered with gray, is messy, styled that way, a strand falling lazily in his face—he looks more like James Dean than an angel, with the suave and confident demeanor. 

“I think I look way more angelic than you,” you say, eyeing the loosely buttoned linen top and expanse of his chest. He looks so effortlessly cool, the high-waisted, wide-legged ivory slacks hanging loosely as he’s leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalant swagger.

He watches you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. The beer bottle rests loosely between two fingers and his thumb. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Your face grows hot at the callout and your eyes dart away, embarrassed. You’re sure he’s smirking now, feeling the burn from his gaze.

“You do look beautiful, though.”

Brady’s voice is lower as he says it, almost like he’s dropped the confident, playboy facade. You thank him shyly, and in the blink of an eye, the curtain’s back up, the smirk plastered back on his face.

“Where’s your man?” he asks casually. He might as well have been glancing at his nails, but you have the feeling his question is far from innocent.

“Think he’s out playing Spikeball on the patio,” you reply, head craning to try and spot him through the window. He’s exactly where you thought, grinning after slamming the ball into the net, fist bumping Marty in celebration. You smile.

“And he left you alone? Looking like that?”

You shoot Brady a glance, the bold flirtation alerting you to his potential motives. It is his birthday, after all, and you certainly gave him a birthday to remember last year. 

Your eyebrow raises. “What’s it to you?” 

“Well,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket, “I know if you were my girl, I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

Heat floods your body, white hot and scorching straight through your bloodstream at his blunt words. You sip at your drink, desperate for something to alleviate the dryness in your throat. “That’s not very angelic of you to say, Saint Skjei.” 

“Aww, but baby, we both know you’re far from angelic. Don’t we?”

This time, in addition to the warmth on your cheeks, you also feel a deep throb between your legs. His words beckon a flashback of strong hands—4 of them—caressing your body, driving you to the height of pleasure; of the feeling of being so delightfully full. 

“Baby, come outside and—oh, shit, hey, Skjeisy,” Andrei’s deep voice echoes, veering from his path to you to give his teammate a clap on his back. “Birthday brother.”

Brady offers your boyfriend a wide grin and a clink of his bottle against Andrei’s glass. Your cheeks burn as they flank you, tall and looming and so large compared to you. The memory of last year’s celebration lingers, flooding your mind with a foggy heat that suddenly makes it a little bit hard to breathe.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, looking at you with a smile, like he can see the mist clouding your brain. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling your beautiful girlfriend how fuckable she looks,” Brady says, unabashed. If you weren’t used to his antics by now, you’d be surprised at his boldness.

Andrei pauses for the briefest of moments, registering the implication behind his friend’s words before he’s turning to look at you, a mischievous expression on his face. “She does, doesn’t she?”

By now, your pulse is racing, practically sweating under the heated gaze of both men standing before you. You watch both of their eyes roving over your figure, undoubtedly envisioning filthy things; you wonder if either of them notice the way your pulse beats in your throat.

“Malyshka, tell him what I told you earlier tonight.” Andrei’s command is gentle, light-hearted, but there’s a longing behind them. 

Surging heat goes straight to your cheeks, burning at having to repeat Andrei’s words. You glance at him, and he nods encouragingly. So you swallow, murmuring, “Y-you said you were gonna fuck me how I deserved to be fucked tonight.”

Amusement flickers in Brady’s eyes, along with a blue flame that matches the one glowing inside you. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Like the only girl lucky enough to fuck me on my birthday,” Andrei finishes for you. A statement of pride; pride in the ownership you have over him, too. 

The fire in Brady’s irises grows, burning bright. You watch an entire cinema of filthy thoughts run through his mind; you’re sure all three of you are thinking the same thing—it’s Brady’s birthday, too. And you are a lucky, lucky girl.

Tension is thick in your little triangle, almost like you’re sizing each other up. Andrei’s eyes dance to yours, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear, “You want him to come home with us, dorogoy?”

Your gaze locks with Brady’s, who couldn’t have heard your boyfriend’s question, but looks like he’s waiting for your answer all the same. Keeping your eyes on his melted chocolate ones, your only reply is a subtle nod, and you feel Andrei’s smile against your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you step into Andrei’s apartment after the world’s most excruciating Uber ride with the heat of Brady’s leg pressed against yours, his hand drawing slow, teasing circles on the inside of your thigh. Andrei had sat in the passenger seat, making idle conversation with the driver, Brady chiming in regularly, as if he wasn’t driving you into a slow descent into insanity. It was almost enough to make you mad, had you not been spending all of your effort trying not to make a mess on the Uber’s leather seats. 

You watch the way Brady’s eyes flare with heat when he follows the two of you into the kitchen, eyeing the quartz countertop. His eyebrow arches with a glance at Andrei, a silent message sent in the quiet of his apartment. The brunette slinks up beside you, a warm hand caressing your waist, and all at once you remember.

“I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

He catches your eye, a wink at you as if he knows you’re remembering his words. “So pretty.”

“So are you,” you whisper shyly. His lips curl into a grin, making him look even more handsome. 

Brady stalks closer to you, all too similar to a predator stalking its prey; the only thing missing is David Attenborough’s dulcet tones, narrating his actions like a wildlife documentary. Despite the itch in the tips of your fingers to touch his skin, to drag your hands through his hair, you back away from him until you’re caught between the kitchen island and his large, looming body. Andrei seems content to watch the scene in front of him play out, standing behind you on the opposite side of the island. 

“Wanna kiss you,” Brady says, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes move to your lips. Your throat bobs in anticipation as you feel the edge of the countertop pressed into your lower back, trapped between Brady’s body and the island. “Can I?”

You nod, but you see Brady’s eyes flick behind you, silently seeking approval from your boyfriend. Andrei must have given it, for the next moment, Brady’s smiling, hand moving to thread through the curls you’d styled earlier that day. His lips brush against yours, feather light, teasing, waiting.

The pause is agonizing, time momentarily standing still as your heart thuds against your chest before Brady finally, finally presses forward to kiss you fully. It’s sweet, far sweeter than the mischievous glint in his eye or the seductive lines he’d traced on your leg in the Uber; for a moment, he really is the angel he’s dressed as instead of the carefully hidden sinner’s persona.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands move from your waist to knead at the globes of your ass. His lips curl upward as he swallows your moan, lifting you easily to set you on the countertop. Warm hands slide up the front of your bare thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up to reveal bare, sensitive skin.

The shift in position allows you to press your body into him, knees settling on either side of his hips as he steps between your legs. Your makeout gradually shifts from sweet and timid to passionate and scorching, whimpers slipping out of your throat as his hands slide the straps of your wings off your shoulders. 

Brady’s lips trail over your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine when his lips find the spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back, allowing him easier access to suck a mark into the tender skin. He places a hand behind your head, supporting your neck, guiding you slowly down onto your back.

The countertop is cool against your bare shoulders, your large, feathery wings no longer digging into your skin. You shiver, not from the temperature of the quartz, but the heat from Brady’s gaze as he tears his lips away from you, standing slowly. His hands blaze fire down your legs, trailing a fingertip lightly down your calf before grasping an ankle in each hand, making a slow show of spreading your legs. 

“Forgot you like to wear these little tiny things you call underwear,” he muses, running a thumb along the sodden lace covering your modesty. 

Andrei, no longer interested in sitting on the sidelines, lets his palm coast over your chest, over your breast, over the bunched up fabric from your skirt, feeling for himself what Brady describes. “You’re soaked already, malyshka.”

Already, just the touch of their hands on your body lights it on fire, and you sigh as Brady’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your calves. Your pulse quickens, nipples instantly hardening when Andrei pushes the top of your corset top down your torso, freeing your breasts. His hand offers a small reprieve from the cool air when it massages one of your breasts, humming approvingly at the way your spine arches into his touch.

“He’s good with his hands, isn’t he?” Brady coos.

You nod, and Andrei smirks at you. Lord knows how many times he’d brought you to a euphoric release with just his hands alone, skilled and strong and wicked in their promise. As if to prove the point, he pinches your peaked nipple between two fingers, earning a yelp from your mouth. But then his hand trails farther, two large fingers digging into the damp lace and tugging it to the side; you gasp quietly at the cool air that hits your most intimate area, the sound melding into more of a moan when you see the heat in Brady’s eyes as he gazes at your folds.

The dynamic is clear: Andrei, revealing you to his friend, presenting you on a platter—or, in this case, his kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time,” Brady comments, his voice low and husky. “Not really.”

Your core clenches at his words, anticipation buzzing through you. Brady smiles, licking his lips. Above you, Andrei nods once, and the brunette needs no more encouragement to sink lower until he’s eye-level with your cunt. He draws a finger through your center, collecting some of the dripping nectar with a click of his tongue.

“This for him,” he asks, jerking his head toward Andrei, who has resumed the gentle knead and massage of your breasts, “or me?”

Another pinch of your nipple has you whimpering. “Wh-who says it can’t be both?”

A low chuckle sounds from Brady’s throat, a smug smile curling up on his handsome face. “Knew you liked being shared, pretty girl, just didn’t know how much.”

He delves into your core like a man starved, long laves of his tongue ending with a flick against your sensitive clit. By instinct, your back arches and your hips raise to meet his mouth, seeking out more of the pleasure that blooms through your body as he presses his face against you. “So sweet, baby.”

Brady is good with his mouth, and he knows it. Expertly, he alters between flat licks of his tongue and sucking gently on your clit, with a precision only someone with experience can manage. It doesn’t take him long to remember what makes you tick, how you gush around his tongue when he slides it inside of you and fucks you with it. 

Just as the energy starts to build deep within you, you’re crying out when he abruptly tears himself away from you. “Brady—”

“Hmm?” he asks, sharing an amused look with Andrei. “What’s wrong?”

“Need—need your mouth.” You can’t help the whine that accompanies your words, the desperation that crawls under your skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” 

You lick your lips, guiltily glancing back to catch Andrei, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk painted on his face. 

“He has a nice mouth,” you say, as if to justify your unrestrained desire for the man who isn’t your boyfriend. 

Andrei hums. “So do you, kisa. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Lay your head back for me.”

You do as told, and Andrei tugs you toward him a few inches so your head is leaning off of the countertop. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Andrei leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, and you sigh into him, the familiarity of his mouth helping to alleviate some of your nerves; the pulse between your legs is all but forgotten under his attention. As he pulls away, he purses his lips, dropping a long, thick wad of saliva into your open mouth. You feel the slow drip of it against your tongue, slipping down your throat as you swallow obediently. 

“Khoroshaya deovochka,” he murmurs as he stands to his full height. Good girl.

The praise makes your nipples tighten as you shiver. You can feel Brady’s hot breath on your inner thigh, can feel the heat from his gaze as he takes in the sight of your open, wet, waiting core. His lips against your skin makes you jolt slightly, a sigh breathed out against Andrei’s tip pressed against your lips.

“God, I missed eating this pretty pussy,” Brady says, his tongue flitting against your entrance, teasing you. You can feel the way your pussy throbs under his attention, like she knows she’s mere moments away from relief.

Andrei chuckles lowly, his eyes no doubt stuck on the brunette working his way between your thighs. Your own throat bobs in anticipation, waiting for Andrei to push his tip past your lips and into your open mouth.

Then, as if following a countdown that only they could hear, Brady’s fingers broach your eager entrance, simultaneous with the gentle push of Andrei’s length to meet your tongue. Swiftly, steadily, they fill you up with a practiced precision that makes your toes curl, the sensation so complete and fulfilling—pun intended. 

Your Russian is patient, feeling the gasp as Brady works another finger into you before his hand slips into your hair, holding your neck steady while he presses his hips forward. He tests his own restraint, inching in and out while your mouth and throat accommodate and adjust to his size, your tongue flatting against the top of him.

Brady’s mouth joins his fingers, sure to catch the slick pooling around your entrance; he probes and teases with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to re-learn what makes your spine arch and the breath catch in your throat. He groans, exhaling lowly against your center, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you.

“So fucking sweet. Svech, do me a favor and fuck her face a little harder so I can feel her gush on my tongue.”

“Aye aye,” Andrei says with a smirk, a mock salute before his other hand is placed on the other side of your neck, stabilizing your face before he gently picks up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes water at the intrusion, at the different angle of his cock in your throat, breathing steadily through your nose.

Soon enough, your boyfriend has a consistent rhythm, and any whine you want to let out is blocked by his length lodged in your airway. He hums, smugness dripping from his voice, “Love watching the outline of my cock in your throat, kisa. You take me so well.”

The praise alone makes heat surge to your core, right into Brady’s eager mouth, and he moans, choking out, “That’s it, baby.”

His pace picks up, directly correlating to the flutter in your belly, to Brady’s tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips roll against his face, seeking out that delicious friction that will have you hurtling into euphoria. His head is too far to reach with your arms, so you occupy your hands by taking to your breasts, massaging and tweaking at your nipples while Andrei continues his rough thrusts. Streaks of saliva marr your face, frothy and wet, leaving filthy evidence on his usually pristine kitchen floor.

For a fleeting second, you wonder what this must look like; you, spread wide and waiting on your boyfriend’s counter, getting stuffed at both ends by two handsome, talented men, both eager to drive you to your peak. It’s the image of your body between them that has your release barreling through you, a choked groan sounding out despite the intrusion in your throat. Brady groans, mingled curses and praises slipping out while he works you through the waves of your climax.

Andrei doesn’t let up, not until Brady’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs, the scar on his chin coated with your orgasm. He helps you up, admiring the swell of your lips and the tear tracks on your face before he smiles and presses a wet, musky kiss against your lips. “So pretty. Even prettier when your face is a mess like this.”

“You wanna take her cunt this time? My treat.” Andrei asks with a grin wide enough to reveal his missing tooth.

“I’d be honored,” Brady says with a mock nod of his head, his eyes flicking to yours with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, malyshka,” Andrei murmurs, lifting you easily in his arms to take you into the bedroom. He deposits you on the bed, positioning you to leave room for Brady to follow and kneel before you. Your eyes draw to the bulge in his pants, the thin fabric doing little to hide his modesty as Andrei helps you to remove what’s left of your costume.

“You want it?” he asks in a teasing tone. 

“You got to taste me,” you say, blinking up at him. “It’s only fair I get to return the favor.”

Andrei sniggers at your quick remark. “So eager, my pretty little slut.”

The name sends heat coursing through your body, radiating particularly between your legs. Brady moves to remove his expensive trousers, and soon, you’re presented with a mouth-watering view of his very impressive, very erect length. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips, eager to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

Of course, Brady can’t resist teasing you, gripping himself loosely as he taps his tip against your cheek. Your mouth opens, impatient, but he doesn’t give you what you want; not yet. Instead, he drags the head across your lips, slow, teasing, agonizing. 

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, but then he winks at you. “So obedient.”

Brady’s instruction is simple, just a soft, “tongue out,” before he’s running his tip over it, pressing himself firmly against your tongue. You sigh out at the taste of him, precum already dripping onto your waiting taste buds, earnestly wrapping your lips around his tip as you take him into your mouth.

Beside you, Andrei draws the slightest attention back to himself by divesting himself of his clothes, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You feel a warm, large hand running along the curve of your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze before his fingers probe lightly at your entrance, testing the slickness he finds there. 

As you work at Brady’s length, jaw opening wider to fit more of him into your mouth, Andrei’s hand slides up just a few inches higher, and all at once the agreement from earlier sinks in.

If Brady was going to fuck your pussy, then that means…

Almost like he’s reading your mind, Andrei chuckles behind you when you gasp with realization. Not long after, the pad of his finger presses gently against the tight bud, teasing and prodding. For a brief moment, you tear yourself away from Brady to crane your head, just in time to see Andrei spitting onto his fingers, coating them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to your backside. He smirks at you, then winks at Brady as his first finger teases you, your mouth falling open at the feeling—not enough.

But Brady clears his throat, not pleased with the lack of attention, and his hand gently turns your head back to face him. “Back to work, sweet girl.”

Ever eager to serve, you do as you’re told, only this time, you moan around Brady’s length as Andrei presses the tip of his finger past the puckered ring. Slowly, he eases it in, carefully testing the depth with slow, gentle pulses as your body relaxes to the foreign sensation. Your tongue lolls against Brady, whimpering as you do your best to stay focused on him.

Whether it’s to help you or just to show some dominance, you aren’t sure, but soon Brady’s hand is threading through your hair, gripping it into a ponytail at the base of your skull. Slowly, he pushes your head forward, watching the way his length slides between your lips. The beautiful brown of his eyes lock with yours, monitoring your reaction as he gradually increases the pace. His hold is firm, the tug on your hair just hard enough to have you shivering.

Soon enough, he’s fucking your throat, and Andrei’s eased two fingers into you, priming you for what’s to come. Spit, drool, and tears track your face, a frothy mixture pooling at your lips when Brady finally pulls out. He smiles, admiring his handiwork. “Love that throat of yours.”

Andrei hums behind you, his thumb brushing against your clit and nearly making you jump. “Baby, you’re dripping. You like when Brady fucks that pretty mouth?”

You nod, licking your lips with a smile. Brady winks at you. “Love fucking all of your holes, darlin’.”

A fresh wave of heat gushes between your legs, accompanied by a slap to your ass and a Russian curse. His fingers flex inside of you gently working you open. “Get to it, then,” you challenge him.

“Aw, baby, I’m flattered,” he says with another smug smile. “But I think I want to watch that pretty boyfriend of yours fuck your pretty little ass first.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you turn to look at Andrei as he’s retrieving his bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. The liquid is cold on your skin, warmed quickly by his hand, finger pressing into you. He eases you open, adding another finger, and then another, until he deems you ready for his more than considerable length. 

“Ready, malyshka?”

You cast a glance at Brady, who smirks at you with darkened eyes, like the sight of you on your hands and knees and three fingers in your ass is nearly sending him over the edge. “Fuck me, Drei.”

When Andrei presses into you, you wince at the stretch as you adjust to the sensation. He sucks in a breath, murmuring a low curse in Russian. Gripping your sides, his hands squeeze tightly as he waits patiently for your approval to keep going.

Brady hums as he greedily drinks in the sight of you. He murmurs low, filthy promises to you, watching intently as Andrei patiently pushes deeper; your mouth falls open as your body adjusts to the stretch, his more-than-adequate width nearly enough to make your eyes cross. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” is Andrei’s gentle purr, groaning as he starts low, shallow thrusts. Your fingers grip into the bedsheets, gasping out. By the time he’s thrusting at a steady pace, tears are already pricking at your eyes from how blissfully sinful it feels, his tip directly nudging into the spot that makes you see stars. 

Andrei fucks you thoroughly, until you’re a mumbling, shaking mess. Your body arches as his large hand traces its way down your spine, coming to rest at the base of your neck; he presses you down into the mattress, just slightly, just enough to make your breathing a bit more labored. He leans forward, too, and you cry out when the action shifts his cock even deeper inside of you. Lips dot gentle kisses against your shoulder blades, accompanied by slow, shallow thrusts as your body trembles beneath him.

“Come,” is all he says; a command and a plea all at once. He doesn’t have to say anything else, only keep his movements steady until you cry out loudly as your release radiates through every bone in your body.

Your Russian is patient, coaxing out the final waves of your orgasm as your thighs tremble from the force of it. Brain foggy, you register the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, soothing you as your vision begins to come back to you. Soon enough, you float back into reality and Andrei smiles, warm enough to feel your heart start to melt at the sight.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms solidly around you and falling onto his back, bringing you with him. Brady’s figure steps between your legs, large and looming, his eyes glued to where Andrei’s cock is still stuffed deep inside your hole. All at once, the warmth in your heart quickly turns back into desire, and your core flutters.

“You gonna fuck me, too?” Your voice is laced with challenge, a teasing lilt in your tone. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Brady quips, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. “Want me to fuck this tight little cunt?”

“S’your birthday gift,” you say, and Andrei chest shakes with a chuckle beneath your back. Brady smiles, his eyes dragging to the place in question, spread open and waiting for him.

“Lucky me,” is his hummed response, moving his hand forward to rub a slow circle over your clit with his thumb. You whine, and Andrei pinches your sides in a silent command, holding you steady. He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his weight solid and strong beneath you—holding your body up without any effort, it seems. One of the many, many benefits of having a boyfriend who is a Big Boy.

Brady snaps your attention back to him when he steps closer to the apex of your thighs, fisting his erection as he lines himself up. His eyes, brown and molten, are transfixed on the way the tip of his cock slips into your eager and waiting entrance; he lets out a grunt at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him.

You, on the other hand, are completely speechless—you’ve forgotten how to speak entirely, only nonsensical babbling slipping from your mouth. The feeling has you unable to focus on any one thing, consumed by how fucking good it feels to have both of them buried deep.

The two men work in sync, wordless, the same silent telepathy that they used earlier. In. Out. In. Out. Pleasure blossoms between your legs, tingly and warm as it spreads through your core, up your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes; you aren’t sure where you end and they begin.

“Kisa,” Andrei’s deep voice rumbles beneath you, murmuring lowly in your ear. “Feel good?”

You open your mouth to reply—yes, God, yes—but all that comes out is a jumbled moan, lilted higher when Brady presses in just that little bit deeper. He laughs, thumbs gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you open. “You kidding, Svech? Your girl loves being stuffed full of dick. These slutty little holes are drooling all over us.”

Brady’s words earn a low flutter—whether in your belly or in another area, you aren’t quite sure—but based on the growl that slips from Andrei, you’re inclined to believe the latter. His hand slinks up your side to massage at your breast, the other branding fingertip-shaped marks into your hip. “That true, dorogoy?”

Because your brain is in the process of being fucked into mush, it’s all you can do to nod, a weak, “Yes” tumbling out of your mouth. His breath is hot against your shoulder, murmurs of Russian curses low in your ear. “How lucky am I, huh? My gorgeous girl, treating me and my friend so good on our birthday.”

The deep purr of praise is like a catalyst to the heat in your veins, setting it ablaze through every cell in your body. Your back arches off of Andrei’s warm torso, and this time you’re sure that you clench tightly around both of them.

“Drei,” you sigh, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“C-come… make me… c-come—”

Brady smiles while his thumb resumes the same steady, circular motion on your clit, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or turned on at your desperate plea. For Andrei, though, it’s no laughing matter; suddenly, his thrusts become even steadier, more sure. He’s determined, hips setting a metronome that contrasts Brady’s pace, speeding up ever so slightly.

When your climax hits, it’s like time stands still: your breath, frozen in your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, a snapshot taken just as the fire ignites at the place where Andrei and Brady meet inside of you. Your body tenses, spine rigid as your legs begin to shake in Brady’s strong hands, doing little to absorb the ripple effect of your orgasm. 

“Shiiiiit,” the brunette groans, amid the mish mash of Russian and English pouring from Andrei’s mouth as his hips slow to a halt, content to feel the way your body writhes and reacts to him. 

“Think we need to do this more often,” Andrei says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice; you can see it reflected in Brady’s eyes, predatory, devouring the sight of you below him. He doesn’t need to voice his agreement out loud; it’s clear in the way he can barely resist pulling out of you to help you onto shaky feet, then to your knees on the floor.

With a blink, your gaze floats up between Andrei and Brady, standing over you, each fisting their lengths, glistening with you. Your hands dance their way up your body, brushing your hair out of the way before returning to cup your breasts. “Happy birthday, boys.”

Brady’s eyes darken and Andrei allows a low growl at the sight of you, your breasts pressed together like the sexiest canvas they’ll ever see. Both of them work their hand over their dicks, varying in speed but sharing the same intensity—the same kind of unrestrained desperation, stretching themselves for the final sprint to the finish line.

Andrei’s deep groan comes first, ropes of his release splattering across your decolletage, dripping down into the cleavage you offer. A sharp curse from Brady’s mouth precedes his own peak, cum landing on your chin before sliding down and dripping onto your chest. Your boyfriend’s eyes glitter, watching the drips meld together into a mixture of one.

Without a word, Andrei steps toward you, crouching slightly to run his hands across your chest, gathering some of the cum onto his fingers. His eyes lock with yours and, in silent reply to his silent question, your mouth opens obediently, allowing him to press his first and middle past your lips, pressing onto your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Brady says, voice a combination of a chuckle and a groan. You suck on his digits, swallowing the salty mixture of them with a flourish.

“Angel,” Andrei muses, making sure you lap every last bit of cum off of his fingers. “She’s an angel.”

———

Bonus mini scene inspired by this video:

That weekend, you’re scrolling on social media when the Canes pregame video pops up. It autoplays, and your eye immediately catches the salt and pepper hair, your heart fluttering a little bit at the sight. Then Andrei’s on the screen, and you’re smiling at seeing him feeling so confident and in his element—he’s where he belongs. 

But then you hear Brady say, “What a night!” followed by a loud laugh from Andrei, and your heart stops. They wouldn’t…

It takes another few replays to hear that Brady also says, “It’s a pleasure.”

When Andrei gets home later that night, high from a shutout win and clinching an official playoff spot, his wide smile fades slightly at the sight of you on the bed with your arms folded over your chest. 

“Wh–?”

“Tell me what you whispered to Brady before the game,” you say, a glint in your eye. 

Your boyfriend pauses, reflecting, then smirks when the memory comes back to him. His eyes flick to yours and his eyebrow raises. “You really wanna know?”

A pointed look is your only reply. 

“I told him you still can’t walk today.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season* Glittery* A Night in Paris*

[hexed-padlock]

Thinking about how elves can reincarnate. What if there are a few individuals besides elves that have a similar ability. Take our dear Tav for example. What if in a past life, they were a great Artificer. Nowadays, they’ve settled for a simpler life alongside their beloved Astarion. What Astarion doesn’t know, however, is that his partner has been working on a special ring for him. Tav went on a small journey without Astarion to look for the Cloak of Dragomir, study it’s enchantments, and create a ring that has the cloak’s enchantments but is able mitigates its negative effects. It takes them months, and the one year anniversary of saving Baldur’s Gate is fast approaching. The last month is spent in a haze of furious work, getting the ring done just in time. They’re always away, spending long hours getting everything perfect. Gale and Tav have been spending a lot of time together researching and working on the ring as a team.

Then the one year anniversary of the Absolute’s defeat comes around. The whole city is in a joyous mood, a massive festival is set to run all throughout the night.

The old gang is back together, standing by the docks once again. It’s dark, but sunrise is just a few minutes away. Tav is by Gale’s side, and he hands them a box with the ring inside.

Astarion sees Gale hand Tav something as Tav gives him a peck on the cheek in thanks. Ah, so this is why Tav’s been so distant lately. He sulks in a corner, self-loathing taking hold. But Tav bounds over, grabs his hands and pulls him out of the shadows.

Astarion looked at their happy expression, noting that daylight was coming. Is this how this’d end? Burning in the sunlight as the love of his life leaves him for that damned wizard? He looks away, refusing to meet Tav’s eyes.

Tav finally registers the expression on his face as guilt grips them. “Love, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you felt like I neglected you, but all this was for our future. Please look at me.” Hours spent perfecting a gift for him were still hours spent away from his side, they kept it a secret, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

“Starlight, my beautiful night sky. Please.”

And he finally looks at them, and they’re on their knees, holding a box out, a ring with a single glowing stone shining out in the darkness.

“Astarion Ancunin, my love, will you marry me?”

Astarion stares, awe, disbelief, confusion, all warring inside him—But above it all, relief, fear, and love.

Breathless, he whispers, “Yes.”

Tav slips the ring on and pulls him into a kiss, just as the first rays of sunlight bathe the city in a golden glow. Astarion panics for a moment, trying to find shade, before he feels only the warm caress of the sun, and the gentle touch of his lover.

The party once stood upon these docks as the wreckage of the city lay around them, incomplete and fractured as Astarion disappeared into the shadows and Karlach vanished back into Avernus. It was a solemn celebration. Now, they were all finally together, standing in the glorious light of a bright future as the rebuilt city celebrates it’s continued freedom.

The future is bright and the world is so full of color.

[hannahssimblr]

As the evening draws in, others arrive at the house. It’s been nice, just Evie and I, for the hour alone that we had, once my family left and I finally showered the smell of grass from my body.

We laughed together while preparing the oven snacks that are now laid out on plates on the table, being picked at by people whose surnames I’ve already begun forgetting. It was sad too, in a way, being happy with Evie, and living out some kind of domestic fantasy where she burns the spring rolls and I tell her it’s okay, because I’m a dustbin of a man and I’ll truly eat anything, and maybe later, before going to bed we would brush our teeth together and flash each other frothy smiles in the mirror. 

I considered kissing a flake of pastry off her lip, too, in a temporary burst of madness, before remembering it would be among the worst ideas I ever had. It was just as well I didn’t, because the doorbell was ringing, and four people from school were waiting outside. 

Now, in the light of the golden sunset, we’re apart, as I, on the lawn, listen to a group of guys talk about the college offers pushed through their letter boxes this morning, and Evie sits with Tara Neary and her gang at the patio table and does her best to include herself. I hope they don’t tell her about the weird stuff I did at school, but chances are, they’ve already been through the highlight reel. 

They all turn to look as the patio door swings open and Michelle comes out and down the steps towards me. To my great surprise, she greets me with a hug. 

“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” she says. “Jen had a thing about her hair.”

“Ah, classic Jen,” I glance over her shoulder, and spot that signature flash of red in the kitchen. I’m uneasy, knowing I’ll have to have a grim conversation with her later, but later is later, and now, Michelle is smiling in a way I’m almost sure she never has, surveying the little crowd that has gathered in the garden.

“A good few showed up after all, didn’t they?”

“I think they wanted to see what the inside of my house looked like, to be honest.”

“Don’t be like that! They wanted to give you a proper sendoff, to wish you well on your big adventure.”

“Oh, yeah. That whole thing.”

“Are you nervous?”

I smirk. “Yeah, it’s my first time on a plane. I’m shitting it.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I’m not talking about the flight.”

“I’m trying not to think about it, to be honest,” and my eyes, once again, find Evie through the crowd. “I’ll just get on the plane, and I’ll let it all sink in when I’m there.”

“Makes sense, in some sort of way, I suppose.”

“The whole thing is surreal,” I admit. “Like, tomorrow, before midday, I’ll be there. Like, I’ll live there. It seems like too much change all at the same time.”

“It’s what you wanted,” she reminds me. “And if you don’t like it, just come home.”

“I doubt I’ll come home. I think that’d be, like, the biggest failure of my life.”

“Worse than losing me?” She says, and I baulk, before she cracks a grin, “God, I was joking.”

I break into a laugh. “Nah, actually you know what was worse than that? Losing Goose.”

“Oh God,” she covers her mouth with her hands, “the Goose of it all. How could I forget about him? Do you have a theory about what happened?”

I grimace. “I want to be realistic, but that also means I don’t really want to speculate, because, I mean… Most likely…”

“Fucking hell, you know, I’ll never forget that…” 

As we talk, and catch up and laugh with one another in ways that we haven’t for a decade, I lose track of time, and don’t pay attention to the sun that dips below the horizon. The evening moths vanish from the garden, and the stars rise and the summer dies, and my last day in Ireland ends without me even noticing.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[margowritesthings]

Fate: A Word Meaning Destiny

PART I

PART II BY @cowboydisaster COMING SOON

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!readersummary: you're a ranch-hand, when your home is attacked by bandits. a mysterious stranger comes to save your life, but who is he? word count: 11.9k words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, violence, murder, attempted sexual assault, sexual relations, fingering (r receiving), penetration, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, talk of trauma a/n: here it is!! finally!! this is the longest piece I've ever written, and I'm so fuckin proud of it!! It is a collaboration with the incredible @cowboydisaster, who will be releasing part 2 when it's ready!! I worked so hard on this, so I hope you love it!! <3

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie @cloudynoiire@punctillous @missvanderlinde @twola @pine4pple-b0i @alice-vanderlinde @photo1030

The day started and progressed like any other, with absolutely no indication that your life would be changed forever until it did. Free time slipped through the cracks in your packed schedule of chores while the sun rose and fell again, casting brilliant orange and pink hues across the sky you now sit in awe of on the porch of your lodgings. Your muscles ache from a full day's work, but it’s a satisfying sensation, one begat from happy horses, milked cows, and a fence fixed by your own hand. Sure, your work earned a mere grumble from Mr. Varner, but throughout the 6 months you’ve worked on the ranch, he has never once had a conversation not directed at your breasts, so you’re not too upset to not have received praise tonight. 

Honestly, you’re just glad to be able to relax. The ranch hands rarely speak to one another outside of work, and there isn’t a damn thing to do around here, but it’s better than shovelling shit in the sweltering heat. You’ve even got a glass of fresh apple juice, a rare delicacy to celebrate the end of the week.

Every so often, when the breeze dies down and each animal agrees to quiet, there is an almost absolute silence surrounding you, and you close your eyes to bask in it. This moment would be the perfect time for a feeling or an intuition that everything is about to change, but it doesn’t come. You feel nothing but peace. Years from now, when you look back to this night, you’ll be grateful that the sense of foreboding didn’t hit you until it was too late, knowing these are the very last moments of the life you once knew. 

The first sense that something is wrong doesn’t come until the gunshots dart through the darkening coral sky and scatter the birds out into it. Your brows pull together, eyes squinting to search for the origin of the disruption to your peace. They’re distant, for now, but the silhouette against the horizon is unmistakably coming closer to the ranch, rifles and pistols pointed to the heavens by a group of men whooping and cheering as they ride straight towards you. 

Everything seems to slow but your racing heart, and it feels like hours between your drink leaving your grasp and the glass shattering all over the porch. Shards disperse over the wood, along with the golden liquid pooled at your feet. In the mere seconds you spend glancing at the floor, the group has advanced and the time you have to figure out what the hell you’re going to do has quickly declined. You’ve heard of gangs hitting up ranches for supplies, heard stories of outlaws on benders pillaging and hunting people simply because they can, but it never crossed your mind to be worried about it. Whenever your momma told you all about the criminals hiding just past the horizon, you’d roll your eyes, chalking it up to a cautionary tale to get you to stay close to the house. Now, your heart hammers against your chest as you realise that if you don’t act now, you’ll become one of those stories, passed down to worry children into obedience. I knew a girl once, shot by bandits for taking too long to hide… 

Not today.

The fear of becoming folklore finally overtakes the fear that has paralysed you for what feels like hours and hours, letting you stand and rush into your cabin, shutting the door behind you. Shaking hands reach for the wooden chair by the tiny kitchen, sliding it across the floorboards and hooking it underneath the handle to barricade the door. It won’t keep anybody out for long, but will at least warn you if someone is trying to get in. 

Your cabin is small, made up of only one room, and while you’ve always thought it was cozy, right now it feels claustrophobic. The gunshots and laughter are getting louder and you’re scared. Your Momma spent so long teaching you how to stay away from outlaws, but she never told you what to do when they found you. You have nothing but a kitchen knife, which you clutch close to your chest as your eyes frantically dart around your room, searching for anything else you can use to protect yourself. There is nothing, thanks to a minimalism forced upon you by a barely livable wage. You can afford to feed yourself, just about, but life saving luxuries like weaponry or a heavy bookshelf are out of the question, so here you are, back against the log wall, a measly blade normally used for bread gripped close to your body. 

Hooves pound against the dirt outside and you swear the ground shakes beneath you. You can hear everything so clearly: spurs clicking against stirrups, heavy boots on the earth, sneering men reloading their guns and thankfully walking towards the main house instead of the smaller cabins you and the other ranch hands reside in. Back pressed against the wall, you wait until the voices dwindle, before you peer out of the little window to get a better view. Some of the fences are already smashed in, including the one you’d just fixed, and somebody has opened all the gates, letting cows and chickens and horses run free amongst the chaos. They’ve reached Mr. Varner’s door, kicking it down with a thud that echoes around the whole ranch. Two of the outlaws go inside, emerging after only a few seconds with Varner’s collar firmly in their grasp. They throw him to the floor and he falls to his knees, and even though you’re at the other side of the ranch, you can see the absolute terror in his eyes. He’s vibrating with fear and you’re not much better, especially when the supposed leader of the group begins to reload his pistol.

You can’t hear his pleas, and even the people who can hear them aren’t listening. The leader lifts his arm, finger resting on the trigger. You’ve heard gunshots before, but none that shake the Earth quite so much as this one. 

You don’t hear Mr Varner’s last words, and the aftermath of his murder couldn’t possibly outmatch the ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with pure panic. They killed him. They killed him, and there is absolutely nothing stopping them from coming for you next. 

“No… no no no no- fuck!” you whisper to yourself, to any deity out there who might be listening, hoping that they don’t mind the colourful language. You have to get out of here, lest this ranch become your grave. Tears prick at your eyes while your brain works ten thousand miles a second. You’ve retreated back to the floor, not wanting to be spotted by wandering eyes while the outlaws start to ransack Varner’s house. 

Your eyes wander desperately around the room, finding only the small window above your bed. It leads out back, so they wouldn’t be able to see you escape, and if you’re stealthy enough you might just be able to make it to the barn. If you’re not, they will find you and surely kill you, but at least the choice of where you’ll die would be in your hands. A small dignity, but a dignity nonetheless that you grasp to with all your might. Most of the horses have fled after the shock of the gunshot that killed your employer, but if you’ve counted correctly there should still be a couple in the barn that you could escape on.

It takes exactly six deep breaths to quell the shaking of your joints enough to stand, stash your knife in your boot and make your way over to your former bed. From the corner of the room, you take a second to look upon your home, knowing it’ll be the last time you see it whether you live or die here. There really isn’t much, but a sad fondness lingers. Everything looks rosier through the lens of somebody being forced out of their home for fear of death.

The window sticks to its frame like it’s covered in treacle, and for one awful second you fear that it won’t budge open, but a desperate push manages to force it just enough to fit you through. Your boots hit the ground with a soft thud and you peer around the corner to find the gang still pulling any valuables they can find from the main house. It’s enough distraction for you to run as swiftly and quietly as you can, tunnel vision stopping anything but your destination from infiltrating your thoughts. With the way the ranch is laid out, you can’t get in through the door without being seen, but you can get to the back of the wooden structure and in through another window, where you will hopefully have more options for getting out of this alive. 

When you reach your destination, you don’t even think twice about using your elbow to smash the window in on itself when you realise there’s no hinge. The crack of glass is loud, but nowhere near loud enough to beat the hollering and whooping of the gang. Shards slice through your shirt and skin, crimson quickly pouring from fresh cuts but you hardly notice. It’s pure adrenaline that drags you through the freshly made entrance, and you land on a pile of hay that is quickly decorated with splatters of your own blood. 

You’re in.

And you’re alone. 

It feels like your fate becomes sealed, shut up with a lock and key you can no longer reach. There are no horses here. There’s no way in hell you can outrun a bullet, nor any man with a horse of their own, so you’re faced with the only option left: hoping they don’t notice you. There’s a chance they’ll go for the cabins over the barn, going after the other ranch hands and their measly belongings instead of piles upon piles of hay. It’s not a chance you’d like to bet your life on, but you no longer seem to have the luxury choice. Your frame fits into a gap in the hay, hidden by a ladder and some crates. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful for your messy colleagues not cleaning up properly. You curl into as small a ball as you can, wrapping your limbs around each other as if it will protect you. You won’t let yourself cry, even after more gunshots start to shatter the air around you. It sounds like they’re getting louder, and you can almost picture a great big flashing percentage chance you’ll survive this decline by the second right above your head. 

Your chest tightens to the point that breath can no longer move around in it when the large barn doors creak open, the streak of light cast on the dusty floor almost bright red in hue now. The skies are on fire, your equilibrium in flames as two of the bandits saunter into your makeshift sanctuary. 

“See, I told you. Just a buncha’ hay, ain’t even no horses.”

“Just shut up and search over there, bastard could’a kept his stash anywhere.”

You’d snort if you weren’t so debilitatingly terrified, if it wouldn’t be the very act that had you murdered. Varner could barely scrape enough money together to pay you on time and still have his nightly whiskey, there was no way in hell he’d leave a stash of cash lying around in here. But they weren’t to know that, how could they? Who knows what he told them to try and save his own skin. 

Spurs scrape across the floor, creating a noise that makes your skin crawl, getting louder and louder as one of the men approaches. You hold your breath until your vision blurs in the corner and you can feel your struggling pulse in your temple, but it is futile. You see his boots first, and somehow force yourself to drag your eyes up his body, finding poorly patched up jeans, an empty holster hanging by his hip, a deep green waistcoat clasped close with a silver chain, long, greasy, graying hair, and an expression you’re sure will burned into your darkest nightmares for the rest of your life. His grin feels as though somebody is pouring acid over your back. Neither shivers nor chills truly justify whatever happens to your skin when the stranger lifts his ivory pistol to you. 

Because you refuse to let the tears pooled in your eyes fall, they tremble in droplets along your waterline, your sight flicking between straight down the barrel and back to its wielder. 

“Ain’t no stash, but I sure caught me a pretty treasure…” 

Logically, it could only have been a second of silence, but time hasn’t worked right for you since you were on that porch, far away from danger. To you, there’s hours. Hours of watching a monster reach for you in slow motion, claws digging into the flesh of your arm with a bruising force. It feels like he tears your skin apart, and if you didn’t know your wounds had come from the shattered window you’d believe the deep gashes were his doing. You scream loudly, half from the sheer panic, half in agony as your blood coats his hands and he drags you across the floor by your injured arm. It doesn’t phase him, at least it doesn’t seem to. Your scream is a droplet in an ocean of pain and terror inflicted by him, it simply joins the chorus of victims you hope haunts him when he’s alone at night.

You kick and claw, but it serves little but to amuse the bastard, who chuckles lowly at your writhing, waving his equally greasy companion over with his pistol.

“Hey, Timmy! Look here what I got!” 

It doesn’t take Timmy long to walk over, sneering at you while you try your hardest to do nothing but glare. Your knife feels all too present tucked in your boot, but you know if you tried to grab it now they’d shoot you dead. 

“Ain’t she a purty thing, Ace?”

“W-What do you want from me?” You ask, swallowing the rock forming in your throat down, “I ain’t got no money- I-I ain’t got nothin’, just let me go.” 

“Oh, you’ve got somethin’, pretty little thing you are…” 

No…

The smirk Timmy and Ace share tells you everything you need to know. It feels like your chest is about to crack open from the way your heart pounds against it, longing for release from your body just as much as you are right now. There is nobody to scream for help, no way out, and even if you did escape the barn there’s at least ten more outlaws waiting outside with just as much intention on you as the ones looking at you like a meal in here. 

You will never forget your own scream when Ace lunges for you. The taste of cigarette ash and gunpowder on your lips when he clamps his hand over your mouth will be ingrained in your senses forever. The tears finally fall down your cheeks, mixing in with your own blood from your arm as you try and claw at Ace’s arm. It’s fruitless, as even if you could match his strength, Timmy is right there behind him to grasp your arm and pull it painfully behind your head. 

“Who’s goin’ first then? I reckon she’s a wriggler, one of us’ll have to hold her.”

“Quit squealin’, I can’t hear myself think!” Ace demands, landing a swift punch to your gut that really doesn’t help the nausea. You can barely feel the pain of anything, so consumed in your panic that you could probably have been shot and wouldn’t notice. Hell, you’d prefer getting shot to having these men’s hands on your body for a second longer. His hand isn’t enough of a barrier to stop the ear splitting noises completely, only dull them a little, but they still don’t deter either man. 

“You don’t ever think, what’s the difference?” “Shut up, dumbass, and hold her down proper!”

Their teasing would have floored you, if you weren’t already pinned there. They speak as if mocking each other in the saloon, as if it’s another day, while they hold your life in their hands. If you live to see the end of today, you’ll never forget it. This trauma is one to be carried until the end of your days, and they act like it is merely just another Thursday. 

Vehement screams intensify when one set of hands, you don’t know which, begin to pull at your shirt, exposing your shoulders more with each seam that rips. Your eyes are screwed shut, wanting to close off as many senses as you can as the tears freely fall down your cheeks. Their touch feels like acid, bubbling and burning on your skin. You try to bite down, but Ace’s grip is too tight. You try to kick at him, but from his vantage point it is easy to swerve. It seems your fate is sealed, and your heart breaks in a way that can never be truly fixed, a way that changes the course of the remainder of your life. You’ll think back, eventually, and wonder if it would have been different had he arrived just minutes earlier, but he didn’t. He doesn’t. He arrives now, emerging from the fiery sunset like an angel disguised as a demon.

You don’t spot him until Ace falls to the floor, clubbed over the head with the handle of the peacemaker held by the mysterious stranger. You don’t know what to do, who to be scared of and who to be grateful for, he could well just want you all to himself. But when he spots you, covered in blood, sweat and tears, that petrified look in your eyes, the surprise is evident in his features. There’s only a split second for the two of you to exchange confused glances, before Timmy lets go of your arms to grab his own pistol and point it at your saviour. You’re not the only one this man’s intense presence is affecting, it seems, with the way Timmy’s sweaty hands start to shake. 

“H-Hey! She’s ours, mister. Get your own!” 

That seems to piss him off, a low growl emitting from deep in his chest.

“She ain’t nobody’s. Let her go. Can’t get your own ladies without forcin’ yourself on one, huh? Makes sense I guess, lookin’ at you two…” 

There isn’t anything holding you down anymore, but you’re frozen to the spot, pinned down to the floor by the sheer energy of this stranger with the chiselled jaw and the most striking ocean coloured eyes you’ve ever seen in your life peering out from under his gambler’s hat. His face is cast in shadows from the brim, but you can tell he’s handsome, right down to the rugged scar on his chin. You have no idea who he is, but something tells you to trust him. 

You’re so lost in him that you don’t notice Ace waking up from his brief stint of unconsciousness, grasping at a handful of your hair to pull your body flush against his on the floor, craning your neck to fit his pistol under your chin. All you can do is claw at his wrist, leaving rosy scratches on his skin that don’t appear to bother him in the least. There’s a sharp pain shooting from your neck down your spine thanks to the strain he is forcing on your vertebrae, which forces a whimper from you. You’re truly stuck in the crossfires, with Timmy’s gun pointing at the stranger, who is pointing his barrel at Ace, who has his pistol right up against your chin, leaving indents of the metalwork in your skin from the pressure of it. 

“You drop that gun, or I’ll blow her pretty little head off, ya hear? Drop it!” Ace demands, shoving the weapon even further into your flesh to prove his point. You can’t help the tear that escapes when he does so, this awful reminder of your mortality prodding oh so painfully into your jaw. The stranger only thinks about it for a fraction of a second, holding one hand out in a surrender, while the other leans down to place his peacemaker on the floor slowly. 

“Alright, easy.” His tone is much calmer than before, his eyes never leaving yours despite everything going on around the two of you. You’re terrified, and he knows it, but even though you’ve never met before this moment, the way he looks at you soothes you, almost like you’re conversing with no words spoken at all, “We can all put our weapons down and talk, huh?”

Ace seems to relax at the sight of the stranger disarming himself, which you can tell by the way his grip on your hair slackens a little. It’s still mighty uncomfortable, and having his clammy hands all over you makes you want to cut your skin off with a- 

Kitchen knife. 

The metal of the weapon you’re just remembering burns into the skin of your ankle, glowing like the bright white light to freedom. If you play this right, it could be. There’s always the chance you could mess up and get blown to pieces, but if the choice is that or more of having to breathe the same air as these scum bandits, you’re willing to take your chances. 

The good lord seems to smile down on you for the first time today when He wills both Ace and Timmy to reach for the discarded peacemaker at the same time, leaving them distracted enough for you to throw your weight into elbowing Ace in the gut and grab the knife from its makeshift holster. 

Time slows again, the next few seconds playing out like confusing hours, the four of you a mess of limbs as everyone attempts their separate feats. Timmy goes for the gun, while Ace recovers his breath enough to try and wrestle the blade out of your hand. The mystery man boots Timmy in the face, knocking him out cold and out of the way, and he manages to kick the peacemaker out of anybody's reach too. You don’t see what happens next, as Ace pins you to the ground, slapping you hard across the face. The shock causes you to drop the knife, which he swiftly recovers, raising it high above your head with a maniac, unhinged grin on his face. For a moment, you’re almost glad of the fate you see sealing before you, as you’re sure that image would have haunted you for the rest of your days anyway. 

They say that life is supposed to flash before your eyes in your final moments, a speedrun of your best and worst moments laid out before you while you take your final breaths, but it isn’t your past you see when you realise that this is how your story is going to end, your own damn kitchen knife about to be plunged into your chest. No, you don’t see what has happened, you see everything that could no longer be. You see the ranch you’ll never own for yourself one day, the children you’ll never get the chance to bear, the wedding you’ll never attend… You let your dreams go in that moment, watching them fly further than you ever will again. 

You shut your eyes tight, determined to block out the horrendous last view you think you’ll ever have, so you don’t actually see your knight in dusty leather throw his body into your attacker. His weight is no match for scrawny Ace, who hits the floor with a thud. The stranger grapples at Ace’s throat while he splutters helplessly. When you see him lift the knife, after managing to sit yourself up and slide out of the way, you shout out, but it is too late. Ace impales the man in the shoulder and he cries out, though it comes out as more of a growl. You wince at the sight of it as the stranger pulls together all the adrenaline from being stabbed to punch Ace in the nose. The crack seems to echo in the chaos, followed by a quiet just not possible when the two bandits were conscious. 

The fire in your lungs burns hot, your chest struggling to contain the breaths you’d resigned yourself to never take again as your mind starts to attempt to catch up. It is just you and this man now, both wounded and covered in blood, neither knowing what exactly to say next. You pray your intuition to trust this man is right, though with the way he looks at you, you’re sure he couldn’t mean harm to you even at gunpoint. 

You look like a deer caught by a rifle, wide eyed and unable to move save for the frantic shaking you can’t seem to stop. The man winces as he removes the knife from out of his shoulder, but you’re so desensitised to everything right now that the sight of blood running down his arm and pooling through his shirt doesn’t bother you. 

“It’s alright now, Miss. They won’t wake up for a while yet, you’re safe.” He speaks while reaching for his gun, worried, tired eyes never leaving you, “They hurt you?” 

The shock has paralysed your tongue and slammed your jaw shut, your molars grinding together near painfully, but you manage to shake your head. They did manage to get a few hits in, but besides a slightly winded feeling in your gut and a slinging where you were slapped, the wounds they left are far more intangible. Spiritual.

He watches the trauma immobilize you, and you see his heart break for you, right in the crease between his eyebrows and the way his features soften, “Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” He approaches you, slowly, holding his empty hands out in an act of surrender to you. When you don’t flinch or move away after his first step towards you, he continues his journey to you, good arm gently wrapping around your frame, careful not to bleed on you or harm your own wounds, “Shh, you’re safe. I’ve got you’.”

The comedown comes hard, the sobs erupting from your lips nearly the second you feel his touch on you. It all becomes real, hitting you, body and soul, like a freight train, crushing your bones and spirit like they’re nothing.

“They-they-” “I know, I know… it’s okay. I’ll get you outta here, I promise. You got someplace else to go?”

You shake your head, sniffling to attempt to gain control over the sobs wracking your body. Using the circles this man is rubbing into your back and his soothing words as a compass, you find your way back to him. 

“It’s alright, miss. I’ll get us outta here. You okay to ride on my horse for a while?”

You nod, starting to feel the true sting that smashing a window with your bare hand should incite without adrenaline numbing your senses. The tears wet your cheeks, mixing in with god knows whose blood splattered across your features like crimson freckles. You feel a warm, calloused thumb pad rub a tear track away, before the stranger stands and extends his hand out to you. Both of you have injured your left side, so interlink your right hand fingers so he can help you to your feet. Standing is hard when it feels like your bones igniting and shattering through your flesh, but you manage with the help of this man’s strength.

“I took care of those guys outside, but the law could be here any minute. Boadicea’s just outside- don’t let her size fool you, she’s friendly enough. We’ll get you somewhere safe, alright? Figure out what to do next…” He guides you outside with an arm around your shoulder, whistling a stunning chestnut Hungarian half-bred over to you. He mounts the mare, patting her on the neck and murmuring “Good girl,” into her ear.

On a better day, you’re more than capable enough to mount a horse by yourself, but you just can’t bring yourself to deny the man when holds an arm out to you. You fit perfectly behind him, your chest moulding against his hard back, wrapping one arm around his waist. Despite the whirring in your mind of everything that just transpired, you manage to pick out that he smells like a wonderful mix of whiskey and tobacco. Normally, you can’t stand either of them, far too strong and smoky for your tastes, but somehow it suits this man. You cling to him while he kicks Boadicea into a gallop, inhaling in his scent and letting it soothe you. The wind whips your skin and you shiver, glancing back only once at your former life, watching the flames lick at Varner’s house as it crumbles to the ground. It’s spreading fast, and you can’t imagine Timmy and Ace will wake in time to escape before the barn is taken. Ironic, that their demise will come from their own destruction.

It’s a near silent ride, where all your energies have to be put into not breaking down all over again. You know that if you start to cry, you just won’t stop. Everyone you know is dead, you’ve lost your job, your home, and almost had a part of yourself stolen that you’ve never freely given to anybody before. It’s too much, but you force yourself to focus on anything but. You think about the feel of this man’s shirt on your cheek, the way the muscles of his back ripple beneath your supple chest each time he moves to ride Boadicea. You hear the occasional wince, especially until he senses you’re far enough away from the ranch to slow down a little. He’s hurt, clearly an outlaw in his own right, and you struggle to understand why exactly he’s helping you instead of protecting his own back and leaving you there in the flames. But you’re too tired to be skeptical, running completely on empty. 

Boadicea carries the two of you into the woods. It’s getting dark, and you’re surprised at how well she navigates the trees and branches, following the winding path until you reach a clearing. 

“Here alright?” Your saviour asks, glancing over his good shoulder at you. You nod wordlessly, still clutching right onto his waist despite the fact you’re now stationary. 

He dismounts first, holding both arms out to you despite the clear pain written across his face. You dismount Boadicea, the front of your body sliding down the mystery man’s thanks to how close he’s standing. Your legs still feel like jelly, but you somehow manage to stay standing. 

“I’ll set up a tent. You know how to make a fire, sweetheart?” He asks, starting to rifle through a satchel he wears across his body. You nod again and take the flint and steel he’s offering out to you. Your hands brush, sending a shiver down your arm.

While he uses just one hand to hammer some tall branches into the ground to hang the canvas from, you set up the fire, finding enough dry wood around to not have to wander far at all. It isn’t long before you’re both sitting beside the fire, a makeshift roof over your head while the stranger plucks some items from his satchel. 

Your wounds appear to have stopped bleeding, leaving dark pools of a near maroon hue seeping through your shirt around gashes that wind around your flesh like ivy. You didn’t get the chance to properly look before, too engulfed in panic to notice how deep they are. 

In the glow of the firelight, the lines etched into your saviour's face seem harsher, telling the tales of the pain he’s in and betraying the heroic facade he’s so clearly trying to put on for you. You know it all too well right now as your arm throbs, a stinging, aching mess of sensation that scrunches your nose up as you try to flex your fingers.

“You’re hurt.” He states, watching you intently as your hand shakes from the strain,

“I’m okay.” You manage, the very first words you’ve spoken since being back at the ranch, “I had to smash a window in to get to the barn. Figured there’d be something in there to help me, but…” you trail off as he nods knowingly. 

“Can I help you with your arm? I ain’t no doctor, but I’ve had enough scrapes through the years to know what to do.” He offers and you nod, trusting him more than you have the sense to. You don’t even know his name.

The man moves slowly over to sit beside you, the heat of the flames and the closeness between you setting your cheeks alight. You don’t really understand it, you just got assaulted by bandits, and yet all you want to do is shuffle closer and bury yourself into this one, letting everything melt away while he tells you it’s gonna be alright. 

His hands are upturned to the stars, awaiting your arm which you give him without question. There’s a tugging need to trust him deep down in your gut that allows you to do whatever he asks of you.

When he looks over the torn, stained fabric of your shirt, his brows pull together. The mud and paint from the ranch is barely noticeable for all the blood, but neither of you can really see the cuts to your skin. 

“Shall I take it off?” you offer, not particularly eager to undress but smart enough to know he can’t help you without.

“‘Fraid you might have to, miss. You can trust me, I ain’t nothin’ like them men, I promise.” 

“I trust you.” 

Your words are spoken so quickly, barely audible, but they still echo around the tiny space the pair of you occupy. You start at the bottom button, knowing that it will start to hurt when you reach the halfway mark because you need to bend your arm. He notices your discomfort, probably in the way your bottom lip slips between your teeth and your jaw flutters when you grind your teeth together to have another sensation to focus on.

“Let me.” he mumbles, a hint of a growl catching his low voice. You let your hand drop back to a comfortable position to do as he says. It feels as though your breath gets stuck in your chest when the hardened skin of his hand brushes over your belly and the contact burns through your chemise. The tension in the air is palpable, both suffocating you and keeping you breathing just so you can experience whatever is to come. 

You’re both silent as he works the buttons through their tiny holes, looking like a giant manoeuvring something so delicate. You can easily get the shirt off one shoulder, but he has to help with the other, his hand sliding down your arm with the pooling fabric before he can carefully peel the shirt away from you and discard it to the floor. 

The air chills your skin, leaving goose pimples scattered all over you. You feel exposed, but somehow not uncomfortable. Your chemise is a simple one, with a bodice that clings to each curve unseen by another. And yet here you sit, in front of a nameless man who swallows thickly as he tries to keep his eyes trained on your injuries.

“You got a name, mister?” You manage, watching him rip up a bandana he found in his satchel and dousing it in water from a flask. He seems to hesitate, before eventually answering without meeting your eye.

“Call me Callahan, for now.”

For now?

“That a first name or a last name?”

It looks as though he hesitates for a moment, before he starts to clean your wounds and the blood begins to flake off your skin. 

“S’just a name.”

Strange answer. Evasive answer, but if he truly is an outlaw going round town rescuing strangers from bandits, it makes sense to not go around advertising who you are.

You wince at a particularly deep cut and Callahan apologises, renewing his efforts to clean your arm as if restoring an antique painting that could tear apart at any moment. It stings, but you handle it. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve already experienced today.

“How ‘bout you, miss?”

You pause, for the first time in your life not quite knowing how to answer such a simple question. Of course you have a name, but it feels wrong to twist your tongue to say it. It no longer fits you, like a jacket worn long before you truly grew into yourself. Your name belongs to a woman who lives on a ranch and loves nothing more than a fresh painted fence and a glass of ice cold apple juice… but she doesn’t exist anymore. She died in the barn, along with that fierce naïveté you’ve held so close to your chest for your whole life, the one that believes in the world and the kindness in it, the one that thinks you work hard in life to earn your place and that goodness will be rewarded. It’s all gone, replaced with the images of Varner’s skull shattered across his own land, his life's work up in flames at the hands of men who refuse to follow the right path. 

In the end, you give him your name, knowing deep down that it will be the last time you ever use it. Every single person who knew it, your family, employer, friends… they’re all dead anyway. And now so are you. To the world, the young girl they knew perished in the barn fire.

“S’a pretty name.” he mumbles, seemingly pulled into the focus needed to not hurt you again. He’s good, really good at patching up wounds, you notice, despite his calloused hands being so huge. With the concentration etched across his face, and him sitting so close to you, you can finally get a proper look at him. Those ocean eyes you noticed back in the barn are just as stunning without being the last thing you think you’ll ever see, framed with little crows feet at the corners of his lids. His face is tanned, scattered with light freckles you don’t think you would have noticed if not for the privilege of being so close to him. He has sandy hair and stubble that covers his whole jawline, save for that little scar on his chin. He is without doubt the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, body and soul, and you feel your heart fluttering against your ribcage and your skin tingling at his contact. 

He expertly ties strips of the bandanna around your arm, and while the pressure stings, it also feels a lot less like your flesh is being pulled apart. 

“I think you’re gonna be alright, miss. Might scar, they’re mighty deep, but they’ll heal well enough with time.”

“T-Thank you.” You stutter, holding your arm out to survey his handiwork.

“Don’t mention it.” He dismisses, though you notice he doesn’t move any further away from you. You’re glad for it.

“No, not just this… everything. Thank you. I didn’t get the chance to say it back there, but… I think you saved my life. And saved me from a far worse fate than death, I… I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You mean every word spilling from your lips, and suddenly, with your hand still placed in his, fitting more perfectly than anything personally made for you ever could, you watch your fate seal. You know what you want, and after the most prominent life lesson you’ll ever receive that life can be cut short at any moment, you know you have to get it. 

“It’s what any man would do, sweetheart… I ain’t a good man, believe me… but I couldn’t stand by while those bastards took advantage of ya’.”

The reminder (not that you needed it, with Ace’s unhinged grin permanently burnt into your eyelids) pulls your brows together as sadness etches across your face. Callahan notices, giving your hand the gentlest of squeezes you might have missed if your body weren’t in hyperdrive around him, every slight brush setting you alight. Your fingers entangle together, and you don’t quite know who initiated it, but it feels right. Comforting. Everything. 

When your gaze roams from your entwined hands to his face, you stop at his shoulder, suddenly feeling foolish for letting him patch you up while he has an open stab wound.

“I can help with your shoulder, if you like.” You nod towards his injury, trying not to think about what it was like watching the blade be plunged into his flesh. He doesn’t hesitate to nod, managing to undo his buttons and take off his shirt without aid. At first, your eyes fly to the stars, before realising there’s no escaping looking when you’ll have to clean him up.

When you look back, it takes everything to not audibly gasp. What is clearly a lifetime's worth of hard and manual labour has sculpted him into something beautiful, with thick arms, wide shoulders, and a defined chest adorned with a trail of hair leading right down to…

You clear your throat to drag yourself out of that train of thought, a somewhat strangled sound that leaves a flush of pink on your cheeks. You can hardly be to blame: for the first time seeing a semi-naked man, you pretty much hit the jackpot.

The glow of the fire is just enough for you to see what you need to, though you shuffle just that bit closer to Callahan until your knees brush against his and it feels like embers scatter over your skin. Years of being the careful one means you’re no stranger to cleaning up injuries, but they pale in comparison to being stabbed with a kitchen knife. Luckily, it doesn’t look too deep, but you’ll still need to clean it and it’ll hurt. 

You use a fresh piece of fabric to wash off the blood. Callahan sucks in a pained breath, but the curses you expect to fly from him don’t come. From the way his cheek hollows, it looks as though he’s biting into it to keep restrained. 

“Sorry. This might hurt a little.” You admit, feeling his muscles twitch and flex under your touch. 

“S’alright, I’ve survived worse.” 

Another elusive answer, one that has you fighting a strange urge to ask him all about all the times he’s been hurt, all the adventures he’s been on. Up close, you can see hints of a life well lived, from each scar to the battered black hat he’s wearing that looks older than you. Everything about him seems to tell a different tale, each more intriguing than the last. 

A comfortable silence settles around you, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional pained hiss from Callahan. The wound doesn’t seem as bad without the copious amounts of blood framing it, but it still looks rather painful.

Attempting to clean a particularly deep section of the cut has you leaning up close, so much so you’re all but sitting on Callahan’s lap. You’re so engrossed in trying to help him that you almost miss the way his heart pounds when your breath tickles his skin, how he tenses at your touch, feeling a fire of his very own burning through him. 

With the angle you’re leaning into Callahan’s body, it is all too easy for a stray piece of hair to escape from behind your ear, the end of it brushing against his chest. You go to push it back, but he beats you to it, hand remaining by your cheek firmly as your gazes lock into each other's. The air changes. You don’t understand it, but it does. It gets thicker and thinner all at once, the world melting away around the two of you. The cogs in your mind begin to whir frantically.

You’ve never lain with anyone before. Not for some religious reason or personal rule, you just never found anyone who felt special enough to share the intimacy with. Honestly, it felt like too big of a moment to share with any of the boys you knew back home or on the ranch. But in those moments in the barn, with Ace and Timmy’s hands all over your body, you regretted it. You wanted to make the choice of who and when, not some low lives with just about enough IQ points to reload a gun. You felt powerless in that moment, when you thought they’d take whatever they wanted from you, and the second survival became a possibility you swore to yourself you’d take that power back for yourself. You grasp it, hold it close to your chest. You’re never going to relinquish it again.

Callahan watches you intently, watches you process everything with his hand on your cheek, his skin on yours, and you suddenly know exactly what you want to do with your power of choice. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

The words fall out of you before you can even really consider them. You’re tired of considering, tired of being the good little girl who spent her life hiding from danger only for it to find her anyway. What is this fight for safety and survival, if you’re not going to live anyway?

Callahan’s surprise is evident in the creases in his forehead and the way his crows' feet disappear as his eyes widen. His lips part, stutters spilling from them. Your heart falls for what feels like forever when he takes his hand from your cheek to take off his hat and run a hand through his dirty blonde hair. 

“Christ, sweetheart, I-I… I dunno if that’s the best idea.” 

A heat unrelated to the fire before you bursts across your face as the rejection stabs you hard in the chest. You thought you’d figured it out. The way his eyes lingered on your every move, the way his hand stayed on your hip just that second too long when he helped you dismount Boadicea, the spark… you couldn’t be the only one who felt it. It was unspoken, ethereal, but just as real as the cuts on your skin or the boots on his feet. You were sure of it, even if there was nothing else in your history to compare it to. 

“You don’t want to?” You don’t mean for it to sound desperate, or desperately sad, but it might just have come out that way. He notices the way your fingers anxiously pick at one another and grasps your hand again, electricity shooting out from the point of contact all over your body. 

“No, no it ain’t that- I-I do. Very much so, but… you just went through somethin’ real traumatic, darlin’. I don’t wanna take advantage of you.” 

You understand, thinking about how pathetic you must look right now. He rescued you, patched you up while all you could do was try not to cry. In the exceptionally short time he’s known you, he’s done nothing but save you. How could he see you as anything but the damsel in distress you so feel like right now?

“You wouldn’t be. You couldn’t- I…” You take a breath, knowing just how crazy you must sound to this man, this stranger, “I ain’t ever slept with anyone before. And when those men came… I thought my first time was going to be stolen from me. It terrified me, Callahan. I never want to feel that way again, that powerless... I want to choose. I want to choose you. And I ain’t gonna go all crazy on you and cling to you and make ya’ marry me, this doesn’t have to mean anything, I swear it. I just… I want my power back. I don’t want that choice ever made for me, any choice ever made for me again. I want to do this.”

Your words process across the cowboy’s features, your heart quickening with each inch he leans in towards you. His hand feels cool against your burning cheek when he cups your face, the ocean from his eyes washing over you as he studies each and every minuscule detail of your beautiful face.

“Are ya’ sure, sweetheart? Cause if I kiss you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself…”

“I’m sure. I’ve never been so damn sure. This is what I want. Please.” You plead, shuffling forwards so your legs are tangled together by the fireside.

“Well, who am I to deny a lady so beautiful as you?”

When you were young, before caution sunk his possessive claws into your mind and made you too sensible for your own good, you got stuck in a rope swing, suspended over a pond by your ankle. You only spent a few minutes in the air, mere inches from being plunged into the cool water on that sticky, hot summer's day, but it felt like hours until the twine snapped and you fell in. Those few seconds come right back to you in those moments between Callahan moving towards you and the pair of you falling into the cool water together. His lips connect with yours, and the relief of no longer hanging on the precipice of the unknown washes over you, with it the euphoria of your choices. 

Your lips fit together like long lost puzzle pieces, drawn together by a thread weaved in fate itself. It tugs you closer, until your chests are flush against each other and your uninjured arm is reaching to tangle your digits in Callahan’s hair. You feel his muscles stiffen for a moment, thanks to the stab wound in his shoulder, but he still manages to wind his hand around your waist, resting on the small of your back. When your lips part, his tongue delves into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from you. He tastes like everything you’ve always been too sensible to do, just how you imagined when his smoke and whiskey infiltrated your senses back when you were riding with him. 

Of course you’ve been kissed before, but never like this, and you’re surprised at how quickly you pick it up from him, teasing your own tongue into his mouth. He growls, God help you, a hint of a not-so-honourable outlaw hiding under the caring cowboy shell he’s treated you with since you met. You feel something coiling tighter deep in your core that hints at what is to come, a seed of desperation fed and watered with each movement, sound or touch Callahan makes. 

When his lips retreat, the loss is so prominent you have to hold back a whimper. 

“Christ, darlin’… I-“ 

But you don’t let him finish, grasping onto his neck with both hands and dragging him back into you. A hunger burns in you, shown in the way you nip at Callahan’s bottom lip with your teeth, pulling out another growl from him. It’s a silent plea to not treat you like you’re breakable, one that he responds to by pressing his lips more firmly against yours until you have no choice but to lean into his hold and let him carry some of your weight. He wraps both arms around you, his skin so warm against yours it fans the flames of whatever is burning inside you. He feels so safe, despite every piece of common sense telling you he’s a stranger, who really shouldn't feel safe.

You don’t speak, neither one of you wanting to stop kissing the other for even a second, but you can follow his wordless instruction as he pulls you onto his lap. You straddle him, winding your legs around his waist. An ineffable wave of something you’ve never experienced before ripples through you, starting between your legs, where you feel Callahan’s hard bulge prodding against your core. You can’t help but arch your back, dragging your hips over Callahan in the process. The pleasure shoots through you and you can’t stop the gasp that parts your lips from his, your eyes flying open. 

The sight you look upon is one you’ll never forget. Callahan’s eyes are tight shut, his features twisted in a look of bliss. His jaw is so tense you see the muscle fluttering. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. His finger’s clutch onto the flesh just above your hips, and you can feel the tension of the restraint he’s forced to employ to not hurt you or push you too fast. This huge, muscular man, who saved your life tonight, is falling apart beneath you. 

You can’t help but reach to his mouth, running your thumb so faintly over his bottom lip, still wet from your kisses. He looks to you, eyes locking onto yours as you drown in his seas. 

He speaks so softly, “If you wanna stop, or we’re goin’ too fast, you just say the word and we’ll-”

“I don’t want to stop. I want you, please.” 

He growls again, and you squeak as he scoops you up with him when he stands. Your legs are wrapped around his waist tight, your core brushing his member every time he makes a step towards the makeshift tent he put up earlier. He carries you with such an ease, kneeling down to lay you on the bedroll laid out on the floor. Even with his injury, he puts all his weight into his arms so as to not crush you, pressing more kisses to your lips as you writhe beneath him. 

“God, you’re so beautiful…” He whispers, his kisses reaching the corner of your lip and travelling down to your neck, “From the second I saw you, I thought you were so beautiful…” 

Your heart aches with his words, and you’re sure at this moment it beats only for him, your saviour, your knight in shining denim. The hours you’ve known him stretch into a lifetime, tears welling in your eyes from the purest of emotions. 

You mean to reply, but when his lips latch onto the pulse point in the crook of your neck, you melt into the earth. It feels nothing short of heavenly, and you can’t imagine what is to come if this man makes you feel these things from simple kisses. You’re purring for him, the heat pooling between your legs becoming near torturous, coiling every one of your nerves into a messy bundle inside you. 

There’s a moment where Callahan looks to you, a silent question of permission as his hand hovers over the strap to your chemise. You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth so hard you’re scared it might break skin. The tingles from Callahan’s touch ripple from your shoulder as he pushes the fabric down, exposing both breasts to the cool night air. He wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling oh so lightly and pulling a moan from your lips. He laps you up, your back arching against the wool of the bedroll to give as much of yourself to him as you can. His hands work your pants, impressively considering his attention is elsewhere on your body, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your legs as far as he can reach without leaving your contact. You manage to kick your boots off and slide the jeans off completely, leaving just a layer of cotton covering you. 

Your fingers entangle in Callahan’s locks, scratching at his scalp as he licks and nips at you. 

“God, please,” you moan, feeling that coil inside you tightening to impossible levels,

He’s quick to look up, a lust burning in those irises, “What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me, and it’s yours.” 

“Everything.”

Your patience is hanging on by a thread, your need for him growing and your heart pounding faster with every passing second. When he takes his hands to the fastenings on your undergarments, you could sob from the relief. With one slow pull at a ribbon, the chemise falls from your body, and Callahan opens it up like a present at Christmas. His eyes roam over you, and while you always thought you’d feel exposed when you were first bare to a man, nothing could feel more natural than being naked underneath him, to have his skin on yours as he rubs his thumbs over your nipples, before dragging a hand gently over your stomach, hovering just above your weeping cunt. 

“Can I touch you, darlin’?” His voice is gruff, threatening to crack from the restraint he’s deploying by not taking you with the urgency tearing him apart right now. 

“Yes. Yes, please, I… I feel so…”

“I know, I know… Let me take care of you, alright beautiful?” 

Your back flies off the bedroll when you feel two fingers plunge into your cunt, curling upwards slightly. It feels incredible, in spite of a strange stretching sensation that quickly ebbs away. He starts slow, sliding his fingers out and back in, dragging against your walls deliciously. You cry out, eyes shut tight and face contorted in pleasure. You don’t see how he watches you, smile tugging on his features as he remarks to himself how beautiful you look like this, but know that it happens. 

Sweet moans fall from your lips in time to the thrusts of Callahan’s fingers, your body singing for him. You’re climbing, higher and higher to a destination you don’t even truly understand. It is then that Callahan presses a thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves and a gasp is ripped from deep inside you, your eyes flying open.

“Oh, God, I-”

“I know, baby, easy… I got you, let go, angel.”

And you do. 

Without even knowing where exactly he’s leading you, you follow, falling over an uncharted precipice into ecstasy. It ripples throughout your entire being, doubling your vision. Callahan leans back down to you, heat and want radiating from his bare skin like a burning flame.

“That’s it, sweetheart, good girl.”

He closes the gap between you, catching wanton moans in his mouth and swallowing them gratefully, needily. It feels like forever lasts in just that moment, waves upon waves of a pleasure unlike anything you’ve experienced crashing over your body and curling your toes.

The waves turn to ripples, which dissipate into a pleasant tingle that buzzes more intensely wherever Callahan’s skin is on yours. Your legs are entwined together, and you’re not sure when he removed his pants, but you can feel his warm skin against yours everywhere. It’s dizzying, the heat of him and the size of him stretching over your body. Your eyelashes flutter up at him and you reach to run a hand over his cheek. 

“Wow…” You breathe, “That was…”

“Was? Oh, I’m not done with you yet, darlin’...”

Your cheeks flush, a melodic giggle escaping you. This whole experience is so much more comfortable than you could have ever imagined your first time would be, with laughter and looks of such adoration you forget you’ve only known this man a few hours. 

“I wanna show you more…” He whispers into your skin, pressing soft kisses wherever he can,

“There’s more?” You joke, knowing full well what happens next but wanting so badly to make him chuckle again. You’re addicted to the sound, and he supplies it, shaking his head ever so slightly, 

“Are you ready, beautiful?” “Please, I need you, Callahan. Take me.” 

He doesn’t make you wait long. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Nerves take over, but only for a second, numbed quickly by more kisses pressed on your forehead and nose. You haven’t actually seen his member, almost too shy to look, but God can you feel it when he slowly slides in. It’s a stretch, and you hold your breath until the pinching feeling falters. Callahan waits there, deep inside you, until you nod your head to wordlessly reassure him you’re okay. 

“Good girl…” another kiss, “you beautiful,” and another, “good girl.”

His praises wash over you, relaxing your muscles to the point where there is no pain, only the intense pleasure of you gripping and rippling around his cock.

“O-Oh… Feels… So good.” You manage, scratching your nails into his back and pushing at him to move. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, slowly retreating and pushing back into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as you get filled so wonderfully it’s hard to breathe.

Callahan’s arms shake around you and you watch him grasp on his composure. It’s taking him everything he has in him to not slam into you and fuck you senseless, but he clearly wants to make sure you feel safe. It swells your heart and piques your curiosity all at once, wondering what would happen if he let go in a way you know he won’t right now. 

“Y-Yeah? You feel alright, sweetheart?” He stutters, hips spluttering slowly as he thrusts gently in and out. You’re already coiling, reaching that blissful state, but you want him to feel the same. He’s growling and groaning and it’s music to your ears, but you want more, you need all of him, every last unrestrained molecule of this man. 

“I feel wonderful… Please don’t hold back. I’m not breakable, I need you, please.” 

How could he refuse? Hearing such sweet pleas and begs, he’s putty in your hands.

“Baby girl, a-are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you, and you feel so damn good, I-I don’t know if I can hold back…”

“Please, Callahan.”

It doesn’t escape your notice, how he winces whenever you say his name, but you can’t think straight about it right now, not when you feel his cock reaching every last inch of you and prodding that sweet spot he seems to have a map to. You’re delirious with pleasure, even when he’s holding back.

When he lets go, you scream, tears of pure intensity forming in the corners of your eyes. Callahan pulls back, completely out of you, before diving back in. The tears fall down quick tracks on your skin, and he kisses them away, growling deep in his chest. His pace picks up, and now you’re used to it it doesn’t hurt a bit. It’s heavenly, it’s ecstasy.

“F-Fuck, angel, what am I gonna do with you?” he asks, his lips pressed against your collarbone to muffle the words. His teeth scrape against your skin, leaving white hot trails that will be burned into you forever, you’re sure. 

“T-Touch me, p-please- oh!” Your pleas are interrupted by a particularly wonderful movement and Callahan grins at you, loving watching you fall apart like this for him. 

He can’t say no to you, would never want to when you ask him oh so nicely. He snakes a hand down between your two bodies, tickling your clit with the pad of one finger in slow, delirious circles. In response, you involuntarily squeeze around his shaft and he moans loudly in your ear.  It might have just become your favourite sound in the whole world. 

“Christ, darlin’, I-I’m so fuckin’ close I can’t last much longer, baby.”

You respond with a kiss, a passionate, almost loving kiss, where your tongue licks up the roof of Callahan’s mouth to chase his taste. You catch his desperate groans, feeling how the rhythm of his hips falters the closer to losing it he gets. His fingers get sloppy, rubbing in an indescribable pattern and bringing you right where he is, whimpering and writing beneath his body.

You cum together, your cunt constricting around Callahan’s cock, feeling every vein pump and twitch as he too comes apart. He parts his lips from yours, only to breathlessly moan your name into your ear, his hot breath tickling your lobe and scattering an inexpressible feeling over your skin. He’s pounding into you and it hurts a little, but you feel far too good right now to care. Your pulse hammers for him, over every inch of you, blood rushing around your body carrying something magical with it. Callahan groans loudly, almost fully retreating his length before thrusting a final time, deep inside you. His lips connect with yours again, the tear tracks on your cheeks wetting his own skin from how close you are. You feel his cock pulsing as he releases the last of his spend into you, with no care in your mind for the consequences. 

When you open your eyes, still coming back to earth, he’s there for you, looking down with an expression you could only describe as blissful. 

“You are… somethin’ else…” He whispers, reaching to push a stray piece of hair from your face. 

═══════☆═══════

In all your years, there has never been such a comfortable silence as the one you and Callahan are existing in now, disturbed only by the gentle thrumming of his heart against your ear. There’s no awkwardness, wasn’t when he slid out of you and helped you get cleaned up either. The moment is peace, especially when you feel your own heart beating to the exact same rhythm. If it weren’t for this man, it might not have been, and now you’re synchronised to him. 

A clean shirt from his saddle bag is wrapped around your shoulders, while Callahan’s fingers gently run over your hair. You want to thank him again, but the silence hanging around you both seems too precious for you to break. 

Your anxious mind is kind to you, allowing you a few more minutes of complete peace in this heavenly sanctuary, before everything comes crashing back down to Earth, dragging you with it. 

“... God, what am I gonna do now?”

Callahan doesn’t hesitate. 

“You could stay with me.”

You freeze, leaning up on your good arm to look him in the eye, hair cascading over your face once more. As always, he pushes it back, though there’s something in his expression that tells you he’s surprised those words left his mouth so freely.

“Stay with you? Where?” 

“Well… I run with some others, folk like you who have nowhere to go. We keep a camp together, keep eachother safe and fed. I… I’m sure they’d welcome you.”

“You’re outlaws, right?”

The great unspoken question. It lingers between you for a moment, and Callahan swallows hard. 

“Yeah, outlaws. But we ain’t as bad as those others, we… we try n’ help people, where we can. I could talk to Dutch, get you somewhere to sleep ‘till you get back up on your feet.” 

Your mind races, setting itself off faster than a spooked horse spotting a snake. Outlaws killed Varner, outlaws tried to rape you, and would have surely killed you had they had the chance… Outlaws were bad news, everything you’ve ever been warned about in your life… 

And you slept with one, and now had a standing invitation to join them??

He must sense the turmoil twisting your previously calm features, and quickly goes back to that soothing motion across your hair.

“Hey, just think on it, alright? You’ve had a pretty damn rough day, ain’t no use doin’ anything but restin’ now. We can stay here tonight, talk about it in the morning.” “A-Alright…” 

For now, you let his words wash over you, his gruff voice trying to pull you back to that tranquil state. It works, and you rest your head back on his chest, careful to avoid the makeshift bandages you tied around his shoulder. 

You shut your eyes, intertwined with your saviour while the moon watches over you both. 

“Thank you, Callahan…” you mumble, sleep already grasping you with its tempting claws.

You’re the first to drift, while Callahan stays awake as long as he can to make sure you’re alright. He watches you sleep, watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter every so often. 

“It’s Arthur, by the way…”

═══════☆═══════

You’re pulled out of the realms of sleep when an owl hoots nearby. For a second, you panic, expecting all the comforts of your own bed and finding the open air. It comes crashing back all too soon, the bandits, Varner, Callahan…

He’s right where you left him, arm wrapped around your frame to keep you safe from the elements and otherwise. His handsome features are illuminated by a moon glowing high in the sky, fast asleep, and you know it’s now or never.

You’re not sure when you make your decision, whether it was when he first asked you, or some wider wisdom from a dream you can’t remember influenced you. You’ll regret it a hundred times over and thensome, but you know that even when you’re doing it. 

You allow yourself a kiss, just one soft kiss on his sleeping lips, before somehow managing to slide out of his embrace without disturbing him. He stirs, and you freeze, but a tiny snore later and he returns to complete slumber. 

There are tears welling in your eyes when you approach Boadicea. She looks at you solemnly, as if she knows exactly what you’re doing, but she lets you do it anyway. Every movement pains you in a way you’ve never experienced before, your heart aching more violently than any mortal flesh wound ever could. 

Boadicea stays still while you look through her saddle bag, picking out a couple of tins of food and one of the opened tonics, though you leave most of the provisions. It feels wrong, stealing from him, but you know you have to to survive. You’re on your own now.

Just when you’re about to wrap everything up to go, you spot a book in the back pocket of the bag, a stick of charcoal poking through the pages. Glancing at Callahan’s sleeping body, even for the fraction of a second you do so, hurts so much you can barely breathe. 

You pick the book out, flicking over stunning sketches of landscapes, animals, and a few portraits. You’re careful not to read the words, fearful that knowing any more of his soul could change your mind in an instant. The charcoal scratches at the paper as you write, more grateful than ever that you learnt how to in your free time on the ranch. 

I can’t. I’m sorry. 

Each step out of the woods pulls at that tether, the one you noticed before when you first kissed him that resides deep in your heart, the one that feels like fate. But you’ve met her before, and she scares you. Fate means destiny, yes, but she also brings doom. And that is no longer a risk you can afford to take.

[maryleclerc]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐫𝐬.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

quinn hughes x reader

summary: quinn and y/n as a newlywed couple

social media au!

warning: english not my first language, all images credit to owner, i do not own any of these images

reblog, like & follow me for more smau!

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Today i can finally ask my Y/n to marry me, my one and only love just for you. I love you baby

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y/username I love you too Quintin bear ❤️

quinnhughesfan.43 Gosh so sweet & CONGRATZZZZ

canucks We all so happy for you!

y/username

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y/username Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,

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elblue6 Welcome to the Hughes Gang Y/n 🧡

y/username Thank you Mrs Hughes ❤️

lhughes_06 I will be the greatest uncle EVER!

y/username Oh shut up Luke 😂

jackhughes @lhughes_06 No i’m better than you

lhughes_06 Are you sure u Lil Jizzy

kyliejenner My girl is engage now!!! love u two so much!!

y/username Yay finally!!

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes 12/20, my mrs.hughes

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y/username Hi my hubby 😉

elblue6 I remember it’s clear as day, when me and your dad hold you for the first time, its always so special moment with your first born first time being a parents to take care of a newborn and he’s a family man now

_quinnhughes Mom you gonna make me and Y/n cry again

y/n.hughes43 Mom i’m gonna cry

elblue6 I don’t mean to make you cry, me and Jim are so so happy for you both, but we both waiting for my grandbabies

_quinnhughes Me and Y/n will be work on it soon

y/n.hughes43 Hey

quinnntin43canucks I still don’t think she deserve you Quinn

fanofy/nandquinn Couple goal 🎉

y/n.hughes43

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y/nhughes I am now stand here wearing this gorgeous wedding dress and call you my husband, i am the luckiest person on this planet ever exist. Let’s build our own Hughes family together Quintin ❤️

Dec 20 💍

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y/m/n My baby is a women now, so so proud of you and quinn

_quinnhughes I will take really good care of Y/n mrs.Y/l/n

y/m/n Oh Quinn just call me Mom 😁

y/m/n I know you will Quinn, you gonna be a great husband and a great dad too

elblue6 Y/n you are so sweet

y/n.hughes43 Thank you Mom 🥺

trevorzegras Beautiful Bride

_quinnhughes Excuse you? That’s my wife

trevorzegras Wow okay okay Huggy Bear

y/n.hughes43 Aww my Huggy Bear is jealous huh?

y/bf/n You look stunning in that dress

y/n.hughes43 Go and ask Trevor out sis!!! I’m sure he like you too

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Owner of my heart

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hated.u.y/n He seem so obsess with her, everything, every post is just about her, what she did to him like this

y/nandquinnlovers Ofc, girl you’re just so jealous that Quinn not your husband right? He just about his wife, what’s wrong about that? Isn’t that what husband should do????

ethanblues She’s so fine

j__04 I just wish that i’m her

y/n.hughes43

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y/nhughes Just chillin’ and watching the sunset with my love

tagged: _quinnhughes

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y/dad/n Y/n your mom just got me puppy

y/n.hughes43 No way, i’ve beg you to get me a puppy since i was 13 and you said no pet allow in the home

y/mom/n Sorry baby, i just have to rescue this little fluffy baby golden retriever, someone abandon her on the middle of the road

y/n.hughes43 Can i name her Layla?

elblue6 ❤️

y/n.hughes43 ❤️❤️

_quinnhughes ❤️❤️❤️

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Baby Hughes is 7 weeks now, see you in November mommy and daddy

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elblue6 Is Y/n have bad morning sickness?

_quinnhughes She is having a bad bad morning sickness, i just don’t know to help her feel better

elblue6 I’ll bring some decaf tea to help her sickness

_quinnhughes Thank u mom

jackhughes So cute already

lhughes_06 That baby will gonna look like Y/n, that would be so freaking cuteeee

_quinnhughes Ofc it’s gonna look like both of us Luke

y/n.hughes43

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y/n.hughes43 Good morning w.41 and 4 days left (!)

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_quinnhughes Things are def growing

trevorzegras Any name yet?

y/nhughesNo not yet, any ideas?

y/bf/n He’s gonna name its Trevor for sure, he told me yesterday 😂

y/n.hughes43 What if it’s was a girl? Trevor too

y/bf/n Yeass

y/u.hughes43 Oh hell nah

elblue6 I’m so excited to meet our first grandbaby!!!

_quinnhughes I’m so nervous and excited to be a dad

y/n.hughes43 You’re gonna be a best dad ever

jackhughes And me, i’m gonna be the greatest uncle

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Welcome Quintessa May Y/l/n - Hughes, the latest Hughes edition is finally here. Y/n you’ve done a very very great job to bring our baby girl into this life, i’m so proud of you and will never forget all the stage of your pregancy. I will always love you and our baby girl unconditionally.

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elblue6 I always love the idea of Quintin and Quintessa since you tell me her name Y/n

_quinnhughes I love that name too, and Y/n she already chose name for next baby, its will be Quintina..

y/n.hughes43 She’s gonna be a daddy girl

_quinnhughes Don’t be jealous of your own little daughter

[moodybluezzz]

Hairstyling w/ Team Bucciarati

[Content: SFW, gender neutral Y/N]

[Word count: 1.1k]

Bucciarati

When you ask Bucciarati if you can style his hair, he agrees as soon as he sees the smile on your face. "You can certainly try, Y/N." This man would let you get away with practically anything if it meant making you happy.

Since Bucciarati's hair is so short, your options are limited. However, you can curl it. He has no objections, even commenting that he’s curious to see how it would look since he's always had straight hair.

Bucciarati sits perfectly still and talks casually to you through the entire process, watching you wrap his hair bit-by-bit in the curling iron and expressing his excitement after each section is done.

In the end he places his hairpins back in and chuckles as he fluffs his curls. "Well this is certainly different. And I can't say I don't like it." He thanks you and decides that he'll have to invite the gang to dinner just to see how the others will react. You wonder how the others would look with curls or if they'd let you style their hair at all.

Abbacchio

"Absolutely not." Unsurprisingly, the moment you ask Abbacchio to style his hair he shoots you down. However, after a bit of insisting and promising to do it in private, he agrees. "Fine. But if anyone sees, you're dead."

Abbachio sits in front of you, his shoulders tense as you start running your fingers through his hair. "Just get on with it already, will you?" he comments impatiently, crossing his arms.

Since Abbacchio has the longest hair out of the gang, you decide to have some fun with it. You work his pale hair into a wrap-around braid on each side, merging into a half-up ponytail in the center.

To your surprise, Abbacchio doesn't speak up again for the rest of the process. He gradually relaxes under your touch, eventually closing his eyes with a faint smile. Though he'd hate to admit it, he secretly loves the feeling and doesn't quite want it to end.

By the time you're done Abbacchio is disappointed that you've finished so quickly. He opens his eyes to look at the final product and smiles wide, resting his head in his hand. "I'm impressed. Maybe I'll let you do this again sometime, mio tesoro."

Giorno

Giorno smiles softly and happily agrees to let you style his hair. "Of course you can. Just make sure it looks good," he jokes. He takes a seat and sighs, having needed a break like this. Becoming a gang-star is hard.

You carefully remove the bands holding his current braids and curls together, letting free an ocean of golden waves. You hadn't realized just how long his hair was, falling just below his shoulders. It almost looks too good to re-style, but you can't stop now!

Already knowing Giorno’s hair looks good in a braid, you decide to put a twist on his usual look. With some trial and error, and a bit of help from Giorno himself, you manage to put together a unique half-up style - the top braided into the shape of a flower and the bottom left down.

Giornio gazes into the ornate mirror in front of you and smiles, turning back and forth to see your work from every angle and make a few adjustments. "Perfect! Thank you Y/N, I didn't know you were so skilled at this. We can do this more often if you'd like." He kisses your hand politely, excited for the others to see what you've done.

Fugo

"Why me?" Fugo wonders why you want to style his hair, of all people. His reputation as the hothead of the gang has undoubtedly been drilled into your head and there's certainly more eager candidates than himself. Nevertheless Fugo doesn't feel like disappointing you today, especially if it would mean being berated by Narancia and Mista for not having enough fun again. "You know what… fine."

Fugo sits in front of you, somehow even more tense than Abbacchio. Sensing how uncomfortable he is, you decide you'll give him a quick and easy style. He watches your every move in the mirror as you start running your hands through his hair, preparing to tie it back. You catch his sharp purple eyes in the reflection and he glances away, blushing. He didn't expect to enjoy the feeling and trust your process so much. He almost wants to tell you but he isn't sure how. He stays quiet and lets you do your thing.

You pull Fugo's hair into a spiky ponytail, sticking up boldly in the back with long bangs left down in the front. When you're done he brushes his hands over the spikes of hair, smiling ever-so-slightly. "This isn't usually my thing, but… It's not bad. Thank you. Really."

Narancia

"REALLY? OF COURSE YOU CAN!" Narancia is more than excited to have his hair done. Judging by how unkempt it usually is, this must be a rare treat for him. "I want it just like Fugo's!" By now nearly the whole gang has shown off their styles and Fugo's spikes caught Narancia's eye immediately.

Narancia sits in front of you and asks how you convinced the rest of the gang to agree to this. You laugh as you tie his hair up just like Fugo's. Despite how quickly you're done, Narancia is still overflowing with excitement. "Awesome! I can't wait to show Fugo! Hopefully he isn't mad I copied him… Oh well!"

Mista

"Oh, well… I don't have much hair for styling… But you can play with the hair I do have as much as you want," Mista says with a wink. You've somehow never seen what's under Mista's hat, so you can't help but be surprised when he removes it to reveal a head of short, dark, and very curly hair. He motions for you to sit in his lap on your styling chair and you happily oblige.

You reach up and ruffle his curls with a chuckle. He smiles and blushes, loving every second of it. "You should take your hat off more often! You're handsome without it, you know," you comment. Mista blushes but keeps a confident face. "Oh reeeally? Anything for you, mia cara…"

When you're done, Mista puts his hat back on and together you head back to the rest of the gang. Mista pouts as he looks around the room. Everyone is showing off their new hairstyles - it's amusing but you can't help but feel proud. "Damn it, how long do I have to grow my hair for this! ...Better yet, how the hell did you get Abbacchio to agree to this!"

[darkcrowprincess]

Goldenlight week 2023💜💛: Day 1 New Beginnings/Intertwined Fates

"Your souls are tied together. Odd but not unheard of. It's seems you two knew each other in a past life," replied the fortune teller in the booth as she turns over the first tarot card. Hunter and Luz stare, simliar brown golden eyes widen at this announcement. Behind them, the rest of their friends look on in confusion.

Second times the charm. The gang was hoping this year's Gravesfield Halloween Festival would be different from the last. No horrific surprises. Taking a break from rebuilding the boiling isles, Luz and friends decided to go again this year. All dressed in costumes, everything was going well till the lady in the fortune teller booth demands to give Luz and Hunter a free tarot card reading(and only them). "It's just something about you two. Your fates are intertwined, and I would certainly fail as a Wiccan if I don't sniff out the reason why."

Humoring the lady, they both sat down at her request, and together picked three cards. "Three, always three. For the past, the present, and the future."

To hear that in the past they knew each other, brought a chill down Luz's spine. It makes her think of things she did not wish to think of. Mindscapes, dark trees, and golden masks hiding a horrible truth. Sensing this Hunter brings his scarred hand to hold hers in comfort. Feeling this she smiles at him. He smiles back, fragile but no less meaningful.

Continuing the fortune teller turns over the second card. The present. "Right now you two are dealing with the aftermath of great trauma, caused by a man who caused you both pain many times. The shadow had a hold on you. But now with some time and healing you're both are trying to move on. Fair warning two you two. Trauma brought on by shadows, creates a bond if it's shared by two people with fates intertwined . It will be very difficult for you to be able have a connection with anyone else."

Amity at this scoffs, but Willow and Gus shush her. They both wish to hear more as well. Hunter and Luz don't look at each other. But they can feel the tension. This was turning stranger and stranger. Hunter squeezes Luz's hand. She grips back hard.

Finally with a mischievous smile the fortune tell her turns over the last tarot card. The future. This card had a couple in each others embrace in a dark forest. The only light was a golden heart above them.

Hunter and Luz both blush at this card. They let go of each other's hands in embarrassment. The fortune teller smiles softly, as if she's finally figured out something about Luz and Hunter.

"The Lovers card. In the future position it has several different meanings, but this Major Arcana card usually predicts that a new relationship is about to head your way, or that you will have to make a difficult but rewarding decision." At that the women eyes Luz. Than the women with her long dark nails points to the golden heart on the card above the lovers. "The golden heart, a heart of light. Indicates a strong lovers bond. It has been building for a long long time. It is a safe haven this love, and will protect from future troubles. In simple terms you two will be each others family, no matter what." With that the fortune teller smile turns back to being wicked and mischievous smile. As if her last words had a hidden meaning. As if shes poking fun at some other higher power. She grabs the three cards and brings the back to the deck to reshuffle them. "Thank you for indulging me my dears. Doing a reading for you two has been very entertaining." Hunter says nothing, his face a pretty dark red blush. Awkwardly tries to avoid their friends looks, he runs his fingers through his blonde hair. Luz is blushing too, but tries to be polite, giggles to ease the tension, "No problem, Miss a? We didn't catch your name?"

"DarkCrow. Madame DarkCrow. Princess of darkness and all things wicked." The women gets up winking at them. " Hope you two are very happy together. New beginings always are. Especially on Halloween"

(Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you)

[clefmogus]

The 8 Stages of a McDonald's Date [Childe x Zhongli] 3k words

Summary: Childe asks Zhongli out on a date... to McDonald's.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Stage 1 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

At the prestigious private high school of Teyvat, where the rich and the intelligent began the beginning sparks of their future business careers, a monumental moment worthy of the history books was about to take place.

Childe was about to ask Zhongli out on a date.

After 8 months of encouragement and private (public, too, sometimes) counselling from the twins and the gang, Childe felt like he was finally 4% prepared for this life-changing event. He did, afterall, pass his original goal of 2.9%.

Yes, Childe was ready for this whether he was ready or not.

He was not.

“Zh-Zhongli…”

A head turn.

“W-will you… go out with me? Like, uhm, on a date?”

Zhongli blinked. “Where?”

Oh shit. Childe had not thought this far ahead. In all their 484 sessions of running through scenarios, never once had Aether or Lumine mentioned the location of where the date would take place. It always ended with brutal rejection or a simple acceptance.

Think, Childe, think. Where would be the best place for a first date?

And like an anime side character who lay dying in a pool of their own blood, Childe recalled enough events from his lifetime to fill 6 episodes. Why, of course. How could he have forgotten the holy shrine of golden arches that sat just a block away from the school.

“McChicken nuggets.”

“Ok.”

Childe jumped with joy.

Zhongli wept. He could finally eat after 5 days.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Stage 1 Complete :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

ﾟ+:ꔫ:﹤　Stage 2　﹥:ꔫ:+ﾟ

How does one bring about the topic of holding hands?

As Childe and Zhongli made their way across the campus after class hours, Childe began to plan out ways in which he could incite illegal homosexual romance on school grounds.

“H-hey, Zhongli…” Childe began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Haha, um, do you… m-maybe want to, um, h—”

Blond hair whizzed by, cutting Childe off short.

“Childe! Let’s go ho—” Aether paused.

Childe wanted to go to heaven.

“Oops, haha, my tongue slipped.” Shooting Childe a devious smirk, Aether turned around and ran off towards his sister, who stood at the entrance gates of the school.

“Hah,” Zhongli sighed, “those two are always scampering off and getting into trouble. We should have invited them to join us on our outing.”

I-invite them? Was he really that uncomfortable to be around?

“B-but isn’t this a date?”

“Precisely. Were you not the one who stated ‘the more the merrier’ when you invited me to the karaoke place with your friends last week?”

“I—”

Childe stopped. He had no words. Did Zhongli even know the difference between a date and a hang out? Well, no matter. Childe was going to make him find out. He rolled up his sleeves and tried again.

“Zhongli, l-let’s hol—”

“Hey man!” A smooth voice suddenly interrupted his love proposal, casting Childe into the depths of despair. A moment later, a heavy arm was slung around his neck. Childe almost coughed up blood.

“Kaeya,” Childe grumbled underneath his breath.

“Childe.”

(“Zhongli,” said Zhongli.)

“So, where are you two lovebirds heading off to?” Kaeya grinned, digging his knuckle into Childe’s head.

Your days are fucking numbered, bitch.

“Hey, leave them alone, Kaeya!” A loud voice came from behind the group. Childe never thought he would be so happy to see another person who was not Zhongli.

A few feet behind them stood Amber, the perky and energetic class rep who always seemed to have your back—if you didn’t get on her nerves, that is.

Amber, you are my shooting star, my white knight, my angel in the midnight darkness, my ride or—

“They’re just friends. There’s nothing going on between them.”

Fucking bitch.

“Ah, actually, Zhongli and I…”

“I do not see a problem with them coming along with us. After all, weren’t you the one who said—”

“AH! Is that Jean and Diluc walking home together?!” Childe thought fast, pointing in the opposite direction of the road.

“Huh? Where?” Amber turned.

“This I have to see.” Kaeya let go of Childe, and turned away from them, following after Amber.

“Ugh, finally they’re—no, not you, too!”

“But I wanted to—”

Fearing that Zhongli might follow after the two idiots, Childe grabbed onto his hand, pulling him down the street towards the golden arch palace.

As they ran past all the other students walking home from their hours of suffering, Childe could think of nothing but the warmth of Zhongli’s hand pressed tightly against his. His surroundings blurred into one huge, colorful blob.

Childe crashed into a metal pole.

He had to let go.

(“Heh heh, sorry about that,” Childe laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think I would be more concerned about the blood dripping from your head.”)

ﾟ+:ꔫ:﹤　Stage 2 Complete　﹥:ꔫ:+ﾟ

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　Stage 3　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

After thoroughly wiping off all the blood from his head and nose with a handkerchief provided by Zhongli, Childe was finally able to enter the restaurant without getting kicked out. He politely held the door open for Zhongli because he was a gentleman.

The line stretched on for about half the length of the building.

Now’s my chance. I’ll clarify that this is a date and not a friendly hang out once and for all!

“Zhongli, um, I… I…”

“Hm?” Zhongli blinked quizzically, waiting for the other boy to continue.

“I… need to take a dump.”

For the next ten minutes, Childe stood on top of the toilet seat chanting warding spells against the spirits of bad luck.

He was getting tired of running his one-man clown circus.

“Welcome back,” Zhongli said calmly as Childe dragged himself back into the line to stand next to him.

Please tell me that everyday when I get home from work after we’re married.

“Did you have a nice defecate?”

Never mind.

“N… No.”

“Next!”

The awkward silence was interrupted by the friendly voice of the girl behind the counter. They stepped up to order.

“Hello, welcome to McD—” The girl, Sara, grimaced as soon as her eyes landed on Zhongli. “Oh. It’s you again.”

“Do not fret, I brought my wallet this time,” Zhongli announced, shoving Childe forward.

Am I a joke to you?

Sara blinked, but made no comment.

“What would you like to order?”

“What do you have?”

“We… we have a menu, you know…”

“Excellent,” Zhongli said, hardly sparing a glance at the large TV displays of food. “We’ll take it all.”

“…”

“Zh-Zhong—”

After eight hours and 13 surgeries to remove his kidney, blood plasma, and any other organ that he could live without, Childe was finally able to pay for everything that Zhongli wanted on the menu.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　Stage 3 Complete　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚　Stage 4　˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

The weather reports had said that it would be a brutally cold, drafty day with winds strong enough to knock down small trees. So, bearing the freezing gales in nothing but a thin school uniform, Childe sat having his McChicken hamburger at the edge of a steep cliff overlooking the ocean.

God, why must you punish me so?

After Childe had finished payments for their unnecessarily excessive meal (which included a ten year pay plan with interest), Zhongli had promptly walked out the door, leaving Childe to carry everything and follow him.

Bitches be like “I know a place,” then bring you to the edge of a cliff to have a McNugget picnic.

“A most excellent meal,” Zhongli declared, opening his homemade bento box and grabbing a pair of chopsticks.

Y… you’re not even gonna eat it?!!

Zhongli looked up from his meal.

“Is something the matter, Childe?”

“Yeah, I’ve fallen in love with a dumb bitch.”

“Really? What are they like?”

“Dumb and bitchy.”

Zhongli then proceeded to take out a portable stove and began heating up some water.

“Would you like some soothing tea for your heartache?”

“Yes, please.” Childe brought his knees up to his chest and stared out at the churning gray waves as they crashed against the side of the cliff.

He ate his McNuggets in silence.

It started raining.

I think I’m going to go die now.

“Hup,” Childe grunted as he pushed himself back onto his feet. “We should get going now. You’re going to catch a cold.”

Zhongli packed up his things and Childe compressed his year’s worth of food into his backpack. Maybe he could give it to the gang later.

“Um, Zhongli,” Childe called from behind Zhongli as he led the way down the cliffside path. “Why… why did you choose to be here of all places?”

The other boy paused.

“Why?”

He turned to face Childe.

“Because I heard it was romantic, of course.”

Childe’s eyes widened and he felt his face begin to flush, even in the pouring rain. He trained his eyes on the floor, barely able to contain his grin.

“Zh-Zhongli, I also—”

Before Childe could finish his sentence, a loud crash came from behind him. He whipped around seconds before a large wave crashed into them.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚　Stage 4 Complete　˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ Stage 5 ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Romance is dead.

The two boys trudged home in complete silence, neither one of them daring to bring up what had just happened on the cliff side.

They were both completely drenched to the bone in sea water, and the pouring rain didn’t give any indication of stopping soon. Their date had ended in the worst possible outcome.

This is so fucking awkward…

“Well, this is me,” Zhongli announced, stepping towards one of the nearby neighborhood homes.

“Ah, y-yeah,” Childe mumbled, looking anywhere but Zhongli. “I-I’m heading off, then.”

He turned away, completely ready to finally flee the scene of the crime. Childe begged to every single god he could list off the top of his head that Zhongli would not open his mouth. He just wanted the day to be over with as soon as possible.

“Wait.”

Goddammit.

“Would you care to come in and dry up?”

C-come in? As in, go into his house?

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Childe declined hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. Knowing their luck that day, they would probably somehow manage to commit arson faster than Klee.

“At least let me get you a towel,” Zhongli pressed, turning away before Childe could protest.

Oh, fun.

Zhongli returned a few minutes later holding onto a fluffy, hot pink D*ra the Explorer towel and handed it to Childe as if there was nothing wrong.

“Um, wh-why…”

“Worry not, it was just washed yesterday.”

“That’s not the issue here.”

Childe reached out to grab it, training his eyes intensely onto D*ra’s scrunched up face.

“I… I had fun today.”

Faster than lightning, Childe snatched up the D*ra towel and turned away as fast as he could.

“G-g↝oodnight!” Childe exclaimed. His voice cracked in the most embarrassing way possible. And as Childe raced down the road, he could feel his face heating up and his heart pumping (a bit too quickly) in his chest.

He ran the wrong way.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ Stage 5 Complete ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

.｡❅⋆⍋∞* Stage 6 ∞⍋⋆*❅｡.

Well, I’m never going to school again, Childe decided.

On the way home, he had dropped by the Mora Tree shop and bought himself a humongous bulletin board.

Finally, somewhere to hang all of my Zhongli creep shots. Haha, just kidding.

(I’m only hanging up some of them.)

Instead, Childe began to plan out every single possible route he could take on campus in order to get through all his classes without bumping into Zhongli even once.

“So, if I go down the H-wing hall right after history before turning into the G-wing and ducking between the two portable classrooms, I can avoid Zhongli’s line of site as he exits his class in the F-wing. Then, I’ll wait for him to pass by before sneaki—”

Briiing. Briiing.

“SKIIIYAAAA!” Childe shrieked. He whipped around to find his phone buzzing on his bed with an incoming call.

“Bitch, don’t scare me like that!” He screamed into the phone the second he picked up.

“Gee, did you get dumped or something?” Aether teased.

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry, I don’t swing that way.”

Childe wanted to punch a dumb blonde underclassman.

“So, how’d your date go?” A new voice piped up, belonging to the second half of a chaotic duo.

“Lumine, don’t talk to him! He’s dirty.”

“The hell…?” Childe was now going to add a slap to the punch.

“Actually, I bet you were sitting in your room crying just now and planning out every possible route you can take tomorrow in order to avoid bumping into him.”

Childe sat in silence.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“… Ok.”

He hung up.

.｡❅⋆⍋∞* Stage 6 Complete ∞⍋⋆*❅｡.

*̩̩̥͙　•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ 　Stage 7　⋆ˊˎ-•̩̩͙　*̩̩̥͙

As the early morning sun began to rise over the horizon, shining its brilliant light upon the prestigious high school of Teyvat, a certain orange haired cretin sat hunched over beneath the bushes outlining the school. He had covered himself up from head to toe with joggers, a hoodie, and a face mask and was now looking through his extra handy $1 W*sh binoculars.

Basically, he looked like a pervert.

“Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhon—”

“What the fuck?”

I’ve been seen!

“Childe?”

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-who???”

“C’mon, man,” Childe felt the overhanging branches being brushed aside as a tall, nosy ice lord shoved his way into Childe’s stakeout spot. “Is this about Zhongli dumping you?”

“Why does everyone think he dumped me?!!” Childe whined.

“I mean, you’re literally sitting underneath some bushes on a school campus peeking out of binoculars.”

“… point taken …”

“Look, if you want my advice—”

“I don’t.”

“If you want my advice,” Kaeya repeated through gritted teeth, “you have to think of first loves like lice.”

“Bitch, go the fuck away from me.”

“If you only look at the negatives, then all you see is a scratchy head and a dry scalp. But thinking about it like that only makes it seem much worse than it actually is. Because if you really think about it, these lice will stay with you as your companion for the rest of your life.”

“…”

“Whether you’re sad or lonely or happy, your lice are there with you through all the hardships. Even when your friends betray you, or the rivers begin burning up with fire, or the world falls entirely into chaos, at least you will always have your lice there by your side. And when you wake up each morning, that familiar itchy tingling in your scalp will feel like a good morning kiss.”

“I—”

“Just some food for thought.” Kaeya grinned, standing up and walking off into the sunrise.

“I neither want to eat or think again.” Childe muttered, staring after Kaeya’s retreating figure. How anyone could find such a man attractive was beyond him.

Childe took one last sweep around the school quadrangle and spotted Aether and Lumine standing on the opposite side, laughing and bantering.

“Aetherrrrrr,” Childe called out, running up to them. And before the blonde boy could land a kick in, Childe had wrapped his arms around his neck and began crying profusely.

Childe was emotionally unstable.

“Aether, I don’t know what to do, I—”

Through his watery vision blurred by tears, Childe could barely make out a large brown smudge standing beside Lumine. Was that…?

“Yeah, yeah, just get your marriage dispute over and done with,” Aether grumbled, shoving Childe off of him and towards the figure. “Geez, no need to drag the whole country in on it, too.”

“Uh… haha…” Childe laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“May I talk to you for a second?”

The bell rang.

“Haha, would you look at the time!” Childe flashed a smile and began to turn away, but was stopped by Zhongli grabbing onto his shoulders with both hands.

“Wait. A-after class… I need to tell you something.”

Childe glanced to the side, his face quickly heating up. “A-after class sh-should be fine…”

*̩̩̥͙　•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ 　Stage 7 Complete　⋆ˊˎ-•̩̩͙　*̩̩̥͙

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ Stage 8 ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

After class was not fine.

As soon as the bell rang to dismiss the students for lunch, Childe ran through the survival guide he had created last night. He hurried down the H-wing, ducking behind the G-wing classrooms before—

“Augh!”

Standing with his arms crossed and back leaning against the classroom, stood Zhongli, as if he had been expecting Childe to show up here.

“I thought you would be here.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“No,” Zhongli straightened up and strode towards Childe, closing the distance between them in just two swift steps. “I just know you well.”

“Ah…” Childe trained his eyes on the floor.

“And about the other day,” Zhongli went on, “I apologize. I should not have acted that way, especially on our first date.”

Oh my gosh, he said the ‘d’ word!

“You know,” Zhongli unconsciously leaned closer, and Childe's senses suddenly amplified. “You should not go along with everything I say, even if it is on the first date.”

“Y-yes…”

“You are looking kind of red. Are you okay?”

“M-mm-hm.”

“Want to be my boyfriend?”

“Mm, su-sure…”

Wait…

…

…

,,,

“WH-WHAT?!!”

“Boyfriend.”

“A-are you sure?”

“To be honest, no, I am not,” Zhongli said, taking a step back. Childe finally found the courage to look up. Zhongli, who was usually so stoic and indifferent, was now blushing so inordinately that Childe was at a loss for words.

“But, these past few days, I have had the honor of looking through a window into your life, and,” he swallowed, “it has made me conclude that I really want to get to know you. I want to laugh with you and be the cause of your laughter. And if you say ‘yes,’ I promise I will do my best to make you happ—”

“Uuuuunnnhh,” Childe groaned out, covering his reddening face with his hands. He leaned his head against Zhongli’s shoulder, who, in turn, wrapped his arms gently around Childe’s waist in a shy, but comfortable hug. “I… I need a moment.”

“Is it okay for me to take that as a yes?”

“Y-yeah… idiot.”

Zhongli reached up to grab Childe’s hands, pulling them away from his face.

“May I…?”

Without thinking, Childe swung his arms around Zhongli’s neck, pulling him closer and gently kissing him on the lips.

Zhongli blinked when Childe pulled away.

“I was asking for your number.”

“Oh.”

Childe began construction on a guillotine for himself.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ Stage 8 Complete ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

No one dared to comment on how or where Childe managed to get so much McDonald's for lunch.

---

Hey, I'm Clef. Thank you so much for reading!

I've been posting my fanfictions on ao3 for a long time, but I wanted to try out tumblr. I used to read a lot of fanfictions on here, but I never fully figured out how to use it. This is an old fic from 2020, but I really enjoyed writing it.

I'll probably be uploading a few of my other old fics onto here so stay tuned if you enjoyed this one!

Read it on ao3!

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Pairing: Eddie Munson/ Steve Harrington

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 2,932

Series Summary: Eddie left Hawkins in 1986 with no reason to ever return. But now, a few years have passed and life has changed. Eddie finally returns home and has to deal with everything he left behind, including Steve Harrington. This story starts in May 1991.

Chapter Summary: A peek into the Munson's future together. This takes place in 2008.

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steddie Masterlist

Series Masterlist

~~~~~

"We're gonna be late!" Eddie called up the stairs for the third time in five minutes. "Listen, I know I'm cooler than Dad, but you don't have to be exactly like me, Lu!"

Lucy bounded down the stairs with a smile. Her hair and makeup were done, dress on, shoes in hand. She sat on the bottom step and slid one tan sandal onto her foot, fussing with the buckle as she did her best to fasten it as quickly as possible.

"She's not exactly like you, babe," Steve said, rounding the corner to join them at the stairs. "Lucy's graduating on her first try."

"And you're not cooler than Dad," Lucy said as she stood from the step. "I just tell you that so you'll let me borrow the car."

"I've been doomed to live the rest of my mortal life in a family of really mean, not funny comedians."

As much as Eddie whined and complained when Lucy and Steve would gang up on him, he wouldn't trade it for anything. The past seventeen years with them had been the best of his life. Probably the best years ever, if he were to guess.

Eddie and Steve had become official two days after Eddie kissed him in front of his uncle's house. Three months later he and Lucy moved into Steve's apartment. Then, once Lucy was old enough to need her own room, into an even bigger apartment. And finally, in 2001, they bought their forever home. It wasn't anything fancy. Two floors, three bedrooms. But it was theirs. They were even able to get themselves a dog. Not a golden retriever, to Steve's dismay. But a big, hyper German shepherd that Lucy had named Sully. Their life was perfect.

Together they'd seen it all. Lost baby teeth and skinned knees. Lucy's first crush and school dances. Even a trip to California the year Lucy found out about "gay days" at Disneyland and absolutely insisted they all go as a family. "You guys are gay!" She said almost too excitedly, earning exhausted eyerolls from both of them. "It's like, meant for you!"

They'd only heard from Billie twice since that November day in 1991. Once, when Lucy was six she'd tried to take Eddie to court again. But when her lawyer showed up and she didn't, the case was dismissed. And then earlier this year she'd found Lucy online and wished her a happy 18th birthday, two weeks after her 17th birthday. It had hurt Eddie to see her so upset, clinging to Sully as she asked her dads why she didn't have a mom like everyone else's.

But through it all, their little family stayed strong. When Wayne fell at work and cracked a rib, Steve was there every morning to check on him. And when Steve's mom passed away from liver failure, Eddie had held him every night for eight months while he mourned a woman who had been out of his life by her own choice for nearly a decade.

"Call your grandpa and tell him we're on the way," Steve said as he opened the door to usher Lucy and Eddie outside. He loved both of them more than anything, he really did, but the Munson gene of being habitually late to everything was not going to work. Not today.

Once they arrived at the high school Lucy had just enough time to run inside and slip into her rented green robe. Eddie, Wayne, and Steve bid her goodbye and good luck, each of them giving her a hug before watching her walk through the glass doors of Hawkins High.

The ceremony itself was exactly the same as Eddie and Steve remembered. The principal led the faculty out onto the stage, where they all sat in a line of folding chairs behind him. He gave a speech, more or less the same speech he'd given at every commencement ceremony he'd ever done.

"And now," he said, the microphone cracking with feedback as he picked up the stack of note cards he'd been reading from. "The valedictorian of Hawkins High School class of 2008, Lucy Munson."

Eddie and Steve stood from their seats immediately. They both clapped and loudly shouted as they watched Lucy walk to the podium. Wayne clapped along with them, staying in his seat and tucking his cane between his knees. Eddie didn't even try to hide the few tears that were falling down his cheeks as he watched his daughters brown curls bounce over the shoulders of her green robe. He felt Steve's arm wrapped around his back. He leaned his head onto his shoulder, wiping his cheeks. The two sat down as Lucy cleared her throat, leaning away from the microphone just like Eddie had taught her. He placed his hand on Steve's knee with a sigh.

"How did we raise a valedictorian?" Steve asked. He could hear the pride in his voice.

"No idea," he answered quietly. "More importantly, how the fuck is Higgins still principal?" Steve giggled, pressing his cheek into Eddie's hair as Lucy began to give the speech she'd written.

"To all of the family and friends with us today, I want to say thank you, from all of us, for being here. It wasn't an easy road for any of us, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that it means a lot to us for you all to be here."

"She's good," Steve sighed.

"She gets it from me," Eddie answered with a shrug.

Steve laughed just a little. He turned his head, his lips resting atop Eddie's head. He closed his eyes as he kissed Eddie's hair. It took everything Steve had not to cry. He listened to Lucy through the speakers, talking about her teachers and her memories of her time in school. But all he could think of, all he could see in his mind, was Lucy at six months old. The day he met her. The day he knew that he was going to love her for the rest of his life.

He heard her start to talk about prom and how it was the last time their class would all be together, hearing the smile in her voice. He remembered eight months ago when he took her to the small bridal shop in town. The way her eyes lit up just like Eddie's did when she found the perfect dress to wear, a baby blue strapless gown. He remembered the way he and Eddie had both shed a tear the exact moment her dates car turned the corner.

"And finally, before I hand the ceremony back over to Mr. Higgins, I want to take a moment to thank the men who raised me to be the person I am today." All three of them sat at attention when they heard her sniffle into the mic. Steve turned to face the stage just in time to see her reach up and wipe her nose before resuming her speech.

"My dads, Steve and Eddie Munson. The best dads anyone could ever hope to have. And my wonderful, funny grandpa Wayne." Lucy sniffled once more, taking a deep breath as she looked up to the stands, easily finding her family in the front row.

"I'm lucky enough to be loved by the three most incredible men in the world. I was raised in a house full of music, and fun, and terrible jokes, and love. From Sunday night football with my grandpa, to dinner time dance offs in the kitchen with my dad. Even having to listen to Anthrax while my daddy taught me to drive last year."

By now even Wayne was getting misty eyed. Eddie nudged him with his elbow, smiling as his own tears fell freely over his cheeks.

"They have always done so much for me. My entire life none of them have ever told me 'no.' Perks of being the only child and the only grandchild," she joked, earning wet giggles from the three of them.

"But the most important thing they've ever given me was my attitude. My adventurous and hardheaded spirit. They worked together for the last seventeen years to teach me that life… Man, life is though. But Munson's are tougher. And for that, I want to loudly and proudly say thank you. And I love you all more than words could ever say. Thank you."

There was not a dry face to be found among the Munson family as Lucy took a step back from the podium. Eddie's chest swelled with pride as he watched her walk across the stage, down the stairs and to her seat. Lucy was happy. She was healthy and thriving in a town that he had tried so hard to get away from.

The following afternoon was Lucy's graduation party. Steve stood at the grill in their backyard, burning hotdogs and burgers for their friends. Eddie was playing his favorite role, busy housewife. He was in and out the back door a thousand times. Bringing more meat to Steve for the grill, refilling drinks, opening fresh bags of Doritos.

"Daddy, relax!" Lucy called from the picnic table she was sat at with her friends. "Sit down and eat something before dad yells at you."

Steve clicked his tongs twice in her direction. She was right and everyone at the party knew it. Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically and picked up a green paper plate from the stack on the food table. He sidled up to Steve and bumped his hip into him.

"Scared of your daughter?" Steve asked with a smile as he turned a row of hotdogs.

"No," Eddie scoffed. "Scared of your daughter. She's mean when she acts like you."

"Sometimes you need to be humbled," Steve answered with a shrug. Eddie smiled as he wrapped one arm around Steve's waist. He turned to look over his shoulder. He saw Lucy surrounded by her friends, laughing as one boy snapped off pictures with his new digital camera - a graduation gift.

"She's a good kid, huh?" Eddie asked, his eyes still on Lucy. Though she was nearly grown, he had a hard time looking at her and seeing anything other than the half bald little baby he'd brought back to Hawkins seventeen years before.

"She's an awesome kid," Robin stated matter of factly, suddenly standing on Steve's other side. Eddie jumped higher than he thought was possible, muttering a string of profanity under his breath as he begged his heart to stop beating out of his chest. Robin laughed, shaking her head as she held her plate out in front of her. "Man, that never gets old. Honestly, though, you did a good job on her."

"What about me?" Steve asked, his mock offense almost seeming real.

"I watched her drink pickle juice out of the jar when she was nine," Robin told him, her voice suddenly very serious and monotone. "I have yet to be given a reason that that wasn't your influence at work."

Steve scoffed and dropped a burnt hotdog on her plate. "The only influence I've had on her is that she brushes her hair every day. Other than that, poor girl is all Munson." Eddie let out a small laugh, his smile bright as he looked down to his feet. Steve nudged his shoulder with his own, pulling his attention back to him. "But, I guess there are worse things."

Lucy's party spanned the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. All of her aunts and uncles made appearances, bringing with them hugs and cards and congratulations. Lucy spent most of her party alternating between spending time with her friends and running around with the kids who were, for lack of a better word, her cousins. Watching her play hide and seek with Max and Lucas's twins was nearly enough to bring a tear to Steve's eye.

Eventually, the sun began to set and their friends and family slowly started to trickle out. Lucy hugged Will and Jack goodbye, ruffling their daughters hair as they turned to leave. As they walked around the house to their car Lucy walked over to where her dads were standing with Robin, watching the last few embers of the grill die down.

She had her hands clasped in front of her as she walked. She ducked her head, revealing the best puppy dog eyes Roane County had ever seen when she finally looked up at Eddie. The picture of innocence.

"Daddy?" She started quietly. "Can I pretty pretty please stay the night at Lindsay's?"

Eddie looked over her shoulder to where the friend in question was sat on a patio chair, anxiously watching the interaction. "Dunno, kid," Eddie started with a sigh. "It's a Sunday. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

Lucy immediately dropped the innocent, pleading act and turned to Steve. "Dad? Please?" Steve looked from Lucy to Eddie, who was wearing the textbook definition of a shit eating grin.

"Oh, be nice," Robin admonished him, landing a soft smack to his shoulder.

"Fine," Steve relented. Lucy bounced on her toes, Lindsay stood from the patio seat behind her. The girls ran into the house, Steve calling out behind them. "We're doing thank you cards tomorrow!"

A few minutes later Lucy reappeared in the doorway. She stuck her head out and announced that she and Lindsay were leaving.

"Get your ass over here," Eddie told her. She rolled her eyes, set her bag by the door and walked towards her dads and her aunt. "Just 'cause you think you're grown now don't mean you can get out of hugs, young lady."

Lucy hugged each of them before retrieving her bag. She turned back to them, "Love you guys!" She called out, waiting for a chorus of the same sentiment in return before letting the door fall closed behind her.

Eddie leaned into Steve's side, hugging him close as they listened to the girls leaving for the night. Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie's shoulders, pulling him tightly to himself and placing a kiss to the top of his head. "We should make a new baby," Eddie sighed. "Ours is old now."

"We haven't had any luck yet, but I do love trying," Steve answered, his voice low as he purred the final words. Eddie lifted his head only enough to capture Steve's lips with his own.

"Disgusting," Robin gagged dramatically.

"Don't you have your own house you could be at?" Eddie asked, dropping his forehead to Steve's shoulder.

"But I wanna hang out with my husband," she whined. "And my husband's husband."

Eddie sighed, moving to hide his smile against Steve's shoulders. "That joke hasn't been funny for like, 15 years."

"It was actually never funny," Steve asserted. "It's always stupid. Can't believe you thought I'd marry her."

"It was funny for a little bit, baby," Eddie told him softly.

"It was kinda hot that you got all jealous on me," he relented. "I liked seein' ya get all squirmy on that stool when you thought you didn't have a chance."

Eddie smiled up at him as the sun continued its descent in the distance. He moved forward, kissing him softly. He heard Robin groan behind him. He felt Steve smile into the kiss. For a moment he considered putting on a show, just to annoy her. He moved his hands to the hem of Steve's old t shirt, his skin soft and warm against his palms. Just as he was beginning the move up towards his chest, taking the cotton with him, she spoke up.

"Okay, oh my god," she whined. "I'm leaving. At least wait until I'm out of earshot to start your nastiness, please."

Both men hugged her tightly before she rounded the side of the house. They listened, waiting for her usual send off. They heard her car door close, then the engine roared to life. "Peace out, husbands!" Before she backed out of the driveway and turned left towards home.

Steve and Eddie began to clear up from the party. Eddie followed Steve around with a trash bag, holding it open for him. They moved the grill back to its spot on the back porch. Eddie complained about having to eat leftover hot dogs for a week as they packed away the uneaten food. He was placing a plastic bowl full of Wayne's famous potato salad when Steve appeared suddenly behind him.

Steve placed his hands on Eddie's hips. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of his neck. His hand began to move, his fingertips dipping into the waist of his jeans.

"I got a hot dog for you right now," he whispered.

Eddie shivered against him. "I hate that I'm already in love with you," he sighed. "That was the worst fucking pick up line I've ever heard."

"But did it work?"

"Yes, but I'm homophobic now."

Steve chuckled, his lips curling into a smile against Eddie's skin. He pulled his hands away from Eddie only long enough for him to turn around. They heard the refrigerator door close behind them as Steve led Eddie upstairs. They both giggled as they almost tripped over Sully, sleeping at the bottom of the stairs. Once they were upstairs, in their bedroom at the end of the hallway, they were like kids again. Neither said as much, but both of them knew that no matter what, they'd always be those two early twenty-somethings who were hopelessly in love and trying to figure out life together some seventeen years ago.

~~~~~

previous part

~~~~~

Oh, how I've loved sharing this story with you all. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. Also! I used my own baby pictures for this because it felt weird to me to try to find pictures of random children online. Please appreciate how cute I used to be 😅

I'm going to make an official post in a few days, but I figured I'd let my loyal readers know first. I'm not at all ready to leave these boys and their little family behind. So I'm asking for requests for them! If there is anything you'd like to see the Munsons get up to, please let me know!!

[dream-this-nightmare-over]

Tancrede de Hautville imagine (special guest: louis x)

This one is for my fellow knight @lllostgirlll

You can find this imagine and lot more in my book of Imagines that is being filled continuously by new stories.

Hope you enjoy!

From smoke and remains of Acre, Rashid has saved y/n. Again.

Tancrede told her to run, but she wouldn't leave her friends to perish in cries that started from the ramparts. Only solace he found in days and months that followed, was Rashid's promise from that night when he came to warn them, that he will track her down and make sure to keep little rascal out of bloodbath way. Even though, both men knew, it was more likely y/n will be saving one of them than vice verse. But Tancrede had to do something before everything was lost. He held onto echo of imagined answer to his prayer, that she found tunnels and reunited with brotherhood of light that was waiting on the other side. Sometimes he thought all he brings is darkness.

He killed Nassir when he couldn't tell him if you are with them in Paris nor where you are, and started going on instead about ultimate downfall. It was stupid and careless thing to do, but he didn't want to risk your name finding way to streets of Paris. Mention of doom that's waiting for them, was like echo back from acre, you were doomed as long as he is around. Why couldn't you just ran off anywhere else, why did you tie yourself to grail? He cursed and spitted on rules that didn't allow women to be part of order.

Y/n was born in Outremer and quickly became entangled in web of deceit and power hunger. Rashid was first to notice her talent, and offered to horn her skills for greater purpose. But he didn't know the whole depth of her involvement with Christian knights. He knew she and Landry struck an alliance before brotherhood revealed itself to templars, offence otherwise punishable by death, if it didn't prove to be so lucrative. Exchange of information, assistance in action, dividing the spoils, bonded by secrecy of truth neither really understood without the other. You were link between two pillars that held east together. And yet somehow, by virtue of survival on your own, you belonged to neither. Rashid had soft spot for you since you joined as orphan, but you were wild untamed thing that only wanted one special templar to be king of your heart. It was holy grail you weren't trading.

Y/n sneaked into castle grounds with golden trio, the gang back together at last just like in golden days of mischief, following Landry's mad dash for one last rush of adrenaline as he settles Paris' debts once and for all.

But soon it became apparent y/n is chasing her own agenda.

She didn't need them, she could deal with it on her own, and was already dashing down corridors, when Tancrede caught up with her, grabbed her by forearm pulling her back to look at him. "Are you mad? This place is swarmed with king's knights. They will have you served as roasted dessert before you realize you are dead." Just then four knights passed and Tancrede pulled you with him behind wall. "You aren't doing it on your own. We aren't separating again." He whispered shouted.

Gawain added as he moved forward when he made sure air is clear. "Landry boy wouldn't appreciate losing his ranks." Short lived discussion was over for him, his mind was made up without it. He is willing to indulge all the wishes just to be out of here as soon as possible.

"Glad to see you alive. Knew you would make it" Tancrede said with smirk.

Now that he finally found her (when he was taken by Rashid, who had penchant for drama so it wasn't far fetch in imagination to think he orchestrated whole thing just to witness happy reunion), they were running in exile again. But this time together; last time the doom fell on them, everything was no man's land except love they saved for each other.

"Not thanks to you"

"You didn't need to save me" Tancrede still believed he would get out of rashid's game, if it wasnt for help from within.

"We can settle it buddy. Right now." y/n says turning form wall they were hiding behind and toward Tancrede in what looked like challange on a fight. if anyone saw them, two bickering behind back of third who is crouching keeping guard spying the hallways trying to figure out next move, while hushing other two with agitated hand movements that are being ignored, one wouldn't need more proof to assume Order is truly dissolved duo to madness that poisoned their ranks. It's easy to understand why superstitious propaganda could lit a zealous pier in absences of context.

Tancrede and you fell in bickering teasing that had been turning bitter since you saved him from Rashid and wounded his pride of taking care of everything on his own, which in return made him insufferable prat, specially because he didn't understand what you weren't saying: you did it not out of doubt for his knightly skill but rather out of knowing Rashid too good and knowing very well that pothead needs reasoning every once in a while. Moreover when he is faced with man who kills to save your name. Like you can't protect yourself. Just because their Rules were devoid of belief in women strength, is didn't mean you weren't worthy of knight title.

Papa Gawain grumpy old cat tired and irritated, down to last morsel of every everything, tired of you two, poor man just wanted some break, had to put a stop to this before yet another Landry's 'great idea' is jeopardized and they are sent back to piers.

'Stop it you two, will you?' he hissed.

Just then lone hooded figure came their way and abruptly  stopped in it's tracks. "What-"

y/n had knife to his throat in blink of an eye.

Tancrede rolled his eyes. "no. just no."

"Gawain, i see you brought your friends" Garry didn't even tremble. it was almost like he was ready for anything. perhaps previous confrontation with Phillip gave him boost of bravery. Standing up for yourself, letting go of pretense, they say does miracles to people.

Gawain came closer, sighing heavily "Where is louis?"

Suddenly y/n ran off down the corridor, embers of light gliding down her cloak as she passed torches.

With a nod to each other of approvement, Tancrede moved out of the way so Gawain could strike old sly with hilt of a sword, making him pass out so they could finally get going. Knight couldn't find it in himself to kill yet another person. Besides if Landry does his part, and from what they heard that went down in court room, they have chance of being far away before Garry reunites with a new ruler. Calling de Nogaret by sobriquet y/n gave him, was another sign he was again falling under influence of his old ally. 

'Hurry' Gawain called out as they chased after y/n

In Louis room y/n and young king were having a duel. Moon casted whole room blue, shadows slithering around them like even night knows it's dawn of time.

"Give me back what's mine and I might let this damned country still be a monarchy" y/n demanded with patience running out, as she held sword point at velvet chest.

"if you kill me, someone else will come. it's never going to stop." Louis said like it humored him to be a prophet, like he is talking from brick of hopelessness where man has nothing to lose anymore. His dopey eyes reflecting the blade coming up his throat. His face ashen, but eyes full of manic understanding he was challenging his little spy to disapprove.  "Do people always have such pleasure doing business with you?' he said sarcastically. 

He backed y/n off aiming for her ribs but y/n caught his sword with hers and deflated the attack. Clash of metal ringing through dance for destinies.

"Tell me where is it! We had a deal! y/n throws Louis off balance and he falls on his bed.

"Why is it so important? It's just a necklace. Oh let me guess. It will pay the way." he snickers tiredly. In death of your world, everyone's can go to waste too. "You cant save them. they are all dead man." he says darkly.

He stays there staring at pattern on duvet transfixed or lost in day's events taking toll on his young mind that can only take so much, and y/n uses the chance to stalk across the room and go through his drawers.

Louis reaches in pocket of his pants looking like he will exhale last pieces of his defeated soul. when he brings it out, y/n nudges aside his sword that was laying on the floor where he dropped it, coming closer.

"I should feel gratitude," he says dangling the chain from his fingers. "But i feel nothing."

The boy smiles, girl snatches the necklace keeping eyes on his, consumed by sudden urge to tuck piece of hair away from his face just to give him some warmth in return but she knew he is wounded wolf who will consolidate his reign again, and pain will stay with the night in which she has to disappear as well as any trace of their business affair.

And that's how kings die, y/n thought. Teach them they can have anything, then teach them they have no power to save the only thing they really want.

Aren't they all just Achilles in different time?

His voice is haunting lullaby cautionary tale of prince who had to lose to gain, bitter wisdom, why is there price for everything?

"There is no way out. you wont make it. You can run but you wont outrun yourself."

Y/n picked up his sword and layed it next to him on bed, but he didn't even move or gave signs he even registered, then joined others.

'Let's go" y/n urged them as darkness filled castle.

They reunited with Landry on the dock and y/n wondered if he found absolution he was looking for. Everyone knew Landry playing saint, putting everyone in danger to settle exuberant price for love affair, wont stop further persecutions, but they didn't stop him when he jumped off the ship and ran back into night that is alive with claws and swords. Gawain cursed as they tied the boat, someone asked if they should send quick prayer to find it again, but time was slipping away too fast and their friend was chasing trouble and they were chasing after him to cover his trace to jump in if he misses a pair of hands or a blade and it all felt for less than a moment because time is not theirs anymore, like they were back in East, surviving in unlikely alliance, still heroes of their story.

Tancrede gave her that necklace back in Acre. It was token of friendship and love and honest faith in better world. Y/n used it as secret compartment to get a message to Louis about his love. She thought it served its purpose almost like it was meant to serve as container of hope in grim world of politics and war.

Louis was right.

She didn't feel accomplished for telling him where Margaret was. Just emptiness of every soul she failed to save, all the ghosts traded for freedom.

Once on deck, warm hand on her back promised there is a way to live with shadows. His hand found hers under cloak. three squeezes. Like in old time. She looked up and he was giving her his most ardent loyalty from storms raging in his depths.

"I didn't mean-" he started

"I should have left you to rot."

"Maybe. Maybe i deserved it." He will never forgive himself for leaving her behind. Even if he knew she would never run away from danger. Fighting together in acre, until battle divided them and he lost sight of his heart; everything set in motion too fast: extracting the grail boarding the ship, eaten to death by grief of not being more persuading more valorous when it comes to standing up for things that really mattered to him. But deep down he knew, acre was y/n's home and she would find a way to make it out alive from every hell. He knew there was side of whole grail mystery that dwelled just out of peripheral in fata morgana they will never come to fathom as anything more than scorching ordeal, but he hoped all along, it will serve its purpose to save life of it's protector. Are we born with grief, or we wake it up with actions that shake the grounds of innocence?

"I should have saved her" she could have got Margaret out if only she wasn't so set on saving already damned knights.

"We all should have been better."

He kissed crown of her head and she closed her eyes as his beard tickled her cheek and whisper warmed her insides as it found way to her heart. "but you are one thing i have no regrets about."

As laundry and gawain managed the sails, y/n looked back one last time toward Paris in heavy fog of change. Nothing will be same from tomorrow. History in making, will we be remembered or all the secrets we keep will take us with them, was it worth it all the secrecy if end finds you either way whether you leave legacy or die in stables looking for revange on your dead lover's murderer? Will someone else carry it out on your behalf when you aren't around anymore?

Y/n thanked louis in her mind for keeping his part of bargain and clearing the posts of prying eyes. They sailed into the night unnoticed, gone from history book pages, it was only beginning of yet another adventure.

Locket safe under tunic. Heart heavy but in arms that loved.

Y/n are running away with the remnants of the greatest.

They didn't know where their ship was bobbing but it was carried by unanimous hope of sailing into the port of some new sunsets that won't pull them apart again. If nothing, they will build one themselves.

[notstilinski]

Happy Place Starters !

Taken from the 2023 novel by Emily Henry, Happy Place! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“We all went to school together but we live in different places now, so it’s hard to get our schedules to line up.”

“Oh, no, it was t a medical procedure. It was an Etsy spell.”

“Remember the first time you brought us her? That guy (Name) ghosted me, and you and (Name) made a PowerPoint about his worst qualities.”

“Wow, things descended into orgy territory pretty quickly.”

“I’ve never had friends like this.”

“Eight years, and you’re still never more than three feet apart.”

“(Name) tends to embellish.”

“You should try sending a big-ass nude painting of yourself ahead when you’re going to meet someone new. It’s always worked for me.”

“You’re staring. Suspiciously.”

“I’m sure plenty of murderers are punctual.”

“They told me it would be impossible to tell whether you were flirting or not.”

“Clearly you’re unfamiliar with the concept of the Regency-era duel.”

“Oh, I’m familiar, but since I rarely find myself flirting with the unwed daughters of powerful dukes, I figure I’m okay.”

“Oh, come on. We’re step-friends now. You might as well tell me.”

“I love sluts! Some of my best friends are sluts. I’ve dabbled in sluttery myself.”

“That’s right. I’m slow-release hot.”

“No. I’m doing this for the sheer pleasure of annoying you.”

“(Name), they didn’t know we’d been hooking up for a whole year.”

“So you proposed and they said no and then they proposed and /you/ said no?”

“You can’t shove a person into a dark room and tell them to relax!”

“(Name) got an air horn app.”

“Are there any places you go back to again and again in your dreams?”

“If you could have another life entirely, separate from this one, what would you do?”

“Overthinking is the thing I’m best at, though.”

“Do I make you anxious?”

“You ask a lot of questions, but you don’t like answering them.”

“Funny. Interesting. It’s like, pick a lane, buddy.”

“Just to be clear, you’re always welcome to touch me.”

“I’m voracious for physical touch. Can’t get enough.”

“Don’t worry. It was clearly vengeful grinding.”

“I’m not made of money, (Name). Water’s all I got.”

“I have never loved a grocery store like I love this grocery store.”

“”How is (Name) even alive let alone whooping and cheering?”

“I’m probably just tired. I always worry more when I’m tired.”

“Um, I literally just walked up. Did I catch you two in the middle of a drug deal or something?”

“Oh, you haven’t found yourself imprisoned with any other jilted lovers in the last five months?”

“Oh? Then what was it that made you finally kiss me, (Name)?”

“I want to know if you’re happy too.”

“I got great pictures of the body shots, by the way. Those will be perfect for the photo wall.”

“You don’t have to be fine.”

“It could still happen. Life’s long.”

“He looks like he’s the tormented leader of a motorcycle gang.”

“If we aren’t friends, what is this?”

“I finally stopped falling asleep to that humiliating memory one month ago and now I have to start all over.”

“The I want to go down on you face?”

“What’s that? Is that just global warming I’m feeling, or has hell frozen over and (Name) is actually agreeing with me on something?”

“(Name), I’m serious. Don’t you dare break my delicate angel’s heart.”

“You’re a mystery to me, (Name).”

“I’m hiring a hitman to take out (Name) for buying that last round of Fireball last night. Feel free to Venmo me your contribution.”

“You have the instincts of a Victorian women’s hospital orderly.”

“Lots of things start with me. That doesn’t make them good ideas.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for four hours of vampires.”

“That just means whoever finds the body has a boring job and wears sweater-vests.”

“If I’m going to be an ass, I’m glad to be yours.”

“They think they’re showing me off.”

“Wow. Being a washed-up former golden boy isn’t so bad after all.”

“Thank you, (Name), for saving them from themselves.”

“I know. I think that’s really why I went. To find you.”

“Moved back in with your mom and get high with her twice a week.”

“I can hardly believe it myself. The chemistry was undeniable, but it wasn’t enough.”

“That is so unbelievably on-brand.”

“The nuance being they can know something’s objectively terrible but if it’s even loosely connected to one of their family members, then it’s got to also be groundbreakingly special.”

“And here I thought it was the crosswords themselves getting you riled up.”

“Hey, are you guys doing drugs down there?”

“We are young, (Name). We’ll always be young. It’s a state of mind.”

“I can feel my blood. And these colors have tastes.

“I am definitely really high. But I’m also right.”

“So I guess some things change and stay the same.”

“It happened! We replaced our parents as the drunk-mom-on-vacation generation

“Tell me to kiss you, (Name).”

“Plus, I want to see if this place is as haunted as it looks.”

“I like how you talk to me like you expect me to understand what you’re saying.”

“I’m every universe, it’s you for me. Even if it’s not me for you.”

“Compared to the rest of our relationship, this is a brawl.”

“I’m great with parents, (Name). Talking to old people is one of my very few God-given skills.”

“Are you planning to stab me or something?”

“Because you’re good at loving and that’s all you have to do.”

“How can love end up like that? How is it possible to love someone so much and have it all just go away?”

“Do you want me to promise I’ll love you forever, (Name)? Because I will.”

“What’s one thing you’ll miss about these trips?”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid heart. Don’t you know he hasn’t been yours to cry over for a long time?”

“Breathe for a second. Rushing makes you clumsy, and we can’t afford to be clumsy.”

“So when they ask for my best qualities, I tell them I’m amazing in bed.”

“I hardly have any expenses right now—maybe you’ve heard: I live with my mom?”

“It’s amazing. Seeing you like this. So happy.”

“I wanted to be special, (Name). And since I wasn’t, I settled for trying to make everyone love me.”

“I am. I am still yours.”

“Thanks. I don’t work out.”

“You think they’re Postmatesing magic mushrooms to the table?”

“If I waited on all of you, this friendship would already be over.”

“So, what, you’re going to consciously uncouple from our friendship.”

“If I’m good enough, I’ll be happy.”

“This is what you wore to a fight?”

“Good. You should be at least a fraction as proud of yourself as I am of you.”

“Good. Don’t forgive me. Stay mad at me. Don’t get over me.”

“Love means constantly saying you’re sorry and then doing better.”

“I never learned how to fight.”

“I don’t know how fights are supposed to end when you love the person you’re fighting with.”

“It’s embarrassing! Being jealous of your own partner? I didn’t even tell (Name) until a few months ago.”

“I don’t need you to stay the same, (Name).”

“You don’t want that anger becoming fear. You want it turning into trust.”

“I told that one shitty poet you dated that I was a witch, and that if he ever contacted you again, I’d he’d him so his dick fell off.”

“Your fingers are cold.”

“All the more reason to give you a ride. These could be the last minutes of your life, period.”

“Because there’s nowhere I wouldn’t go for you.”

“I’d rather have you five days a year than anyone else all the time.”

“I’m saying it’s not home unless you’re there.”

“Because it makes me happy. And I don’t consider anything that does that a waste of time.”

“I’m never not going to worry about you.”

“What about you? Don’t you want to be happy?”

[dropthedemiurge]

My GMMTV2024 Part 1 sorting:

Honestly, no one probably cares what I plan to watch, and none of the series announced today stood out to me to the point of OMG GIVE IT TO ME NOW!–

but still, I just want to save the list for myself and see how my opinions will change after the release of official trailers and series (in 2023 some of the series surprised me and some I didn't watch despite really wanting to)

Shows that I'll be anticipating

Peaceful Property | ON SALE* - found family, quirky characters, haunted house comedy and all the cool actors? sign me up! also probably will be my introduction to TayNew finally Pluto* - complicated GL with complicated plot, NamtanFilm and nicely filmed, what a light in the darkness The Trainee* - I either like or hate offgun projects/characters but! internship series, young adults figuring out life, hopefully more work shown than watching yt animations of coding, great side actors High School Frenemy* - half of HomeSchool gang is here, and I am so here for it! Intense gen show with probably a lot of interesting dynamic, I wonder if it's the same team with HS, but we still need HS2. Happy to see everyone together being badass or pathetic in fights; also it's based on Korean story! which means the plot might be great We are - have no idea what's the plot but engineers! and all the cute couples, so many side couples that i'm fond of are here! hopefully lots of bickering and group scenes, might be more watchable than msp to me also pawin&lt;3

Will give a chance

Ploy's Yearbook - sounds confusing and also weird with Earth wearing high school outfit after so many Old Man Roles but something intrigued me here (probably Jimmy, Aye and Mond<;3) My Precious - i like the actors and i just need the weird gang to have a good story or at least chemistry between everyone for me to watch this My Love Mix-Up! - somehow of course GeminiFourth got this role but i wish they got something more serious like MLC; also Kieta Hatsukoi was too legendary so i'm scared. and i read that Ida is demi and somehow i never realized it?? what tell me more; but also that warm atmosphere and comedy would be really hard to recreate... My Golden Blood* - i always love a good intense supernatural story, even with mock trailer giving a lot of teen wolf vibes; also Mond playing villains is always gorgeous! I liked Joss in 3wbf and Gawin in BMF but not to the point where I can imagine similar type of actors together in a BL and having good chemistry... we'll see

Might tune in

The Interest* - the concept is interesting but the dynamics are hmm, if they can pull off debt collector/person in debt as great as in Mama Gogo, i will definitely be watching, but grunge bloody setting feels tasty Kidnap* - again, not sure what's the dynamic between Ohm and his co-actor is supposed to be, to me it feels like HCTM as in not enough chemistry to me; but I'm always here for fights, gangs, underground and bloody setting and Papang with a gun<3 also it seems like Title might play a bad guy again, poor actor Wandee Goodday - I am so struggling because this is a series done by The Eclipse team and I know how well they work and how deep they can make a story, but also i'm not a fun of adult comedy like this and plot/chemistry doesn't catch me; but also there's drake and ploy!!<3 very conflicting feelings Summer Night - honestly, also have no idea what's going on but it's based on a webtoon and the actors clearly have fun * - I like the concept/setting outside of the actors playing in it

What I like: more stories based on good Korean sources (I think I can even be on board with Semantic error remake) because Korean dramas do complex characters and intense plot very well; GL looks more promising than most of the series; also promising found families and friendship groups; Louis is in a boygroup dancing and Mond being villain and Aye with Jan and View rocking their roles and Pawin being cute and Papang being in several places again

What I don't like: No First, no Khaotung, no Drake, no Sing, no AJ, no Krist, no Neo, no Dew, no Louis -- and I mean that it ranges from 0 to 'somewhere on the background in a small role' which is not enough to me :((( Come on, I know FirstKhao and Krist are busy currently and OhmNanon is nowhere to be found anymore, but Drake is constantly giving everyone performances! Papang and Mond too! And GMM keeps forgetting that they have actual twins that can act really well! Just let them all have proper BL roles or become important characters aaaaahhhhhhhhh i can't suffer for so long Also GMM resorted to the typical settings that work and remakes; I wish we'd get something fresh and intriguing. But I guess we'll have to wait until Part 2 when Jojo comes from break and we get that Aof rom-com with FirstKhaotung xD

But also I'm still waiting for Last Twilight and 23.5 and finally made my mind to watch The Warp Effect so I'm going to have a food on the table, hopefully:D

[reynie-muldoons]

"A Commitment to All Things Cozy" liveblog!

FINALLY!! I've been super busy, but I can finally sit down and just enjoy myself. I'm watching both episodes- episode 6 tonight, and episode 7 either tonight or in the morning.

As always, spoilers below the cut!

0:32 the fact that they highlighted the "treat them without mercy" line in the recap makes me Nervous

0:58 oh shit, they didnt even play the intro. Things are getting serious

1:08 .....Martina?

1:27 RHONDAAAAA

1:32 and Martina :) team up of the century

1:47 "classic." God I missed Kate and Martina's dynamic

2:10 "to bring Curtain down" we love a vindictive woman

2:27 "Are you okay with this, Constance?" GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH. she took the time to pause and get consent from the affected party. QUEEN BEHAVIOR.

2:31 "no one can punish her more than she punishes herself." Mic drop baby girl

2:33 "that's true 😥" HAHAHAHA

2:39 Italy? Somehow I did not expect that

2:52 "um... we are independent contractors....no skin in the game." "Not at all." "open to a buy out." okay this is fucking golden

3:03 LMAO HEY the gang's all together

3:17 MILLIGAN USED A TRANQ GUN SHDJDJDHJD. Even if it's just a blow dart one it COUNTS

3:21 "Hello." what an entrance

3:27 fambly 🥺

3:56 MILLIGAN WHY DO YOU RUN LIKE THAT. Boy's high-kneeing

4:15 oh my gosh you could SEE her make the choice to sacrifice herself. Tears. TEARS.

4:33 shit. SHIT. MILLIGAN.

4:52 WHERE ARE STICKY AND CONSTANCE

4:55 oh now the opening plays? After that shitshow???

6:02 this is fucking strange

6:28 twi-night by stephanie meyers, coming soon to a theater near you

7:10 while I agree that there are people in the world who refuse to be happy, people who dont want to their brain chemistry to be chemically altered with some kind of high-risk strain of hypnosis dont fall into that category

7:19 Nicholas I swear to god if you dont appreciate number two the way she deserves

8:30 I love the artistic prowess, the peels are adorable 😂

8:46 WE'RE DOING THIS??? WE'RE FOLLOWING THE DUSKWORT PLOTLINE?????

8:59 the comment about the clothes being too tight was, uh. Not necessary. Dont love that

9:46 "Good. Are you prepared to do it?" That is the question, and I'm really not sure what the answer is. I dont think Mr B knows the answer either

10:09 damn, they're really getting into it 😂

10:20 "Ha." MILLIGAN

11:09 "I'm sorry. I'm not helping." "Dont apologize, if you're feeling something, it's okay, say it!" First of all, queen behavior from Rhonda once again. Second, PLEASE. Reynie has been bottling up his feelings since day fucking one, let the boy vent

11:37 "and angry." "At what?" "Myself." Hoooo boy we're getting into it

11:51 "more. Louder." YES LET HIM YELL IT OUT

12:09 glad he's getting this out but why rip off the vest 😂😂😂 what did the vest do to you

12:10 DAMN LMAO scream it out!!!

12:26 "how did that feel?" "Good. Strange, but good." Yeah it's strange because you bottle everything up

12:51 how did they manage to hitchhike on a chicken truck. How did they get here 😂

13:36 I thought people outside the compound didnt receive the technique thing, but this guy seems pretty frozen

14:21 that inn seems like it's right in front of them, why did they just notice it now lol

14:30 that front entry looks adorable.

14:38 weird vibes from these two

15:04 "a commitment to all things cozy." Cheers to that, and roll credits!

15:38 awww, I love the mug cozies :) I tried to make those one time, but you have to be very careful because if you make them wrong bc it will literally never come off of the mug and you'll never be able to get it entirely clean or dry because of the yarn LOL

16:28 how much are they about to charge these kids for room and board, because I hate to break it to you but they're flat fucking broke

16:45 dumbass didnt realize that a pushpin would keep the globe from turning. Definition of book smart versus street smart

16:59 I was thinking about this earlier, Curtain has had no interaction with Miss Perumal, there's no reason he would recognize the name or know her significance

17:23 I like how he was so sure that Miss Permual's story was a cover when it's just. True.

17:49 oh here we go, they're gonna tell him

18:11 two things:

1. Shoot your shot, you're probably doing better than Marlin anyway lol

2. I love how hard they're trying to break the news gently, but it's not going to work with the monstrous temper on that guy 🥴

18:37 is he calling the victims weak-minded? Like what's the founding in that? Also, that still makes it a side effect of the happiness cult

18:42 "and ethically, their medical condition cannot be shared with the others" he said hipaa laws, bitch

18:59 daaaamn.

19:05 "I dont trust this doctor. Find another one." Maybe that's why he hired Marlin, they're two sides of the same coin. He said the same thing

19:28 "is this the silence of consensus?" "I dont need protecting." Okay two things:

1. Kate's fierce independence is rearing its head, girl basically raised herself and now she has to get used to letting people have her back. I had to do the same thing growing up. Love to see it.

2. I'm sorry but Milligan's sass is the funniest fucking thing to me, you go boy

19:40 "I am careful." "You fell off a cliff. carefully?" book!Milligan cant really say anything about that one, but show!Milligan can 😂

19:51 "I was alone for a really long time. I had to learn to take care of myself." THERE IT IS.

19:56 "and then you just...showed up!"

20:17 "ARE WE PREPARED TO WIN??" Martina I love the energy you're bringing, but please read the room 😂😂😂

20:20 LMAO YOU GO GIRL

21:00 oh baby I know you're young but I KNOW you did not just do that

21:28 I dont think roasting your hosts is going to get you very far

21:42 yeahhhh I'm with Sticky

21:50 okay so every arc is coming to a peak right now, damn

22:10 tell me this isn't about to be another tv special

22:12 ughhhh

22:38 I dont like this

22:49 creepy. I guess that's how people outside the compound get recruited

23:12 "could I have predicted that Elena would start instead of me? No one could. Because it makes no sense." I love the shade 😂 she's so passionate

23:27 "but no matter what goes down, I'm glad we got to hang out again."

23:34 Madge's honor, that's adorable

23:57 "but standing by if you need me...while also giving you space" I love him so much hahahahah

23:59 THEIR FACES HAHAHAHA

24:03 YES MARTINA GET THROUGH TO HER

24:18 Martina's parents not putting in effort to get to know her explains why she tried so damn hard in school- to get their attention

24:22 "Your dad's trying."

24:56 god he's about to see her and not have any clue wtf is happening

25:22 that poor man

25:57 it's so alien hearing her say such high praise 😂

27:07 I'm so glad they were able to blow up at each other, and now they can actually talk through it. That's so important.

27:33 RHONDAAAAA

27:13 "I'm confused too. But I love you just the way you are." My daddy issues are QUAKINGGG.

27:50 god Reynie doesnt even know and Milligan's trying to break it easy

28:14 "wait, did you just call me sticky?" That's right, she only ever calls him George or George Washington

28:33 the fucking pose 🥴 corny bastard

28:46 "my failure at the Institute shattered me as a man" really? Couldnt tell from the desperacy to prove yourself

29:18 what is that coat thing??? Fugly

29:47 he looks so stupid in the hobo clothes

30:20 why are they both so weird and stiff

30:56 and this is the reason Reynie's joke landed last season- both of their senses of humor are broken 😂

30:59 STOP SHE LOOKS SO SCARED

31:28 oh damn, how did they even know her to recommend her? That's interesting

32:01 "we forgive you." They have the creepy twin thing nailed

32:11 THE PATS

32:19 Martina you sneaky snake 😂😂

32:57 we love a responsible girl. Or at least slightly responsible

33:02 SGDJDHDJDJ HER FACE WHEN SHE REALIZED, THE TENDERNESS, THE FACT THAT KATE NEVER INITIATES INTIMACY,,,,

33:11 "I'll see you down the road, friends." PLEASE tell me that means she's planned for S3

33:44 the sideeye he just gave her 🤨

34:10 oh he is so gonna blow it

34:17 funky looking pot. I like the colors

34:54 dude

35:24 so this is his plan, sic the kid on her

Wow, what an episode. Overall, good!! Lots of action, character arcs are moving towards resolution. Didnt love some of the side commentary, especially those couple weight jokes. That was tasteless and unnecessary. But generally things are falling into place. I cant wait to watch episode 7!

[scottscamp]

Name: Scott "Scamp" Tramp Jr. Age: 26 Height: 5′8 Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Straight Occupation: Car mechanic Zodiac: Cancer sun, Sagittarius moon, Scorpio Rising Faceclaim: Charlie Gillespie

Description

Scamp has been getting into trouble from the moment he was able to stumble around on his own two feet. Between him and his twin sister, Danielle looked like a golden child in comparison to his antics. There was always a certain pressure from both their parents and grandparents to hold up an appearance of being a perfect family, and Scamp always seemed to ruin that. He was clumsy, obnoxious, messy, and hated following rules. He played rough and always got scolded for anything he did. He always felt like the black sheep of the family, even though he knew deep down that in some ways, Ellie was similar to him. She had a wild side to her too, but she just seemed to know exactly what to say and do to make their parents happy. Scamp didn’t get it — he felt so disconnected from their parents, as if they didn’t love him for who he was and wished he were different. Just like they made Ellie to be someone she wasn’t, Scamp refused to let them change him, too. He was constantly defiant and unapologetically himself, and it worsened as the teenage years rolled around. It didn’t help that his childhood best friend, Dodger, encouraged Scamp’s rebellious attitude, and it was even he who gave Scamp the idea to eventually leave his family.

Dodger left while the twins were still in high school, and Scamp had only declined the offer to join Dodge because of Ellie. Despite their differences, they were still close, and so Scamp trudged through the rest of high school with his twin, but without his best friend around. Both Ellie and Scamp were pressured by their family to go to college after high school, and despite having no clue what they were doing (and Scamp having awful grades), they went in together with undecided majors. College put more pressure on Scamp than ever, and he knew it wasn’t for him from the very beginning. It pissed him off too, how Ellie didn’t get pestered about deciding a major as much as Scamp did, likely because she kept her grades much better than he did so there were fewer eyes on her. 

One night, Scamp and their father got into a huge argument. What started as a fight about Scamp not taking college seriously, eventually turned to Scamp pointing out how he had no freedom to decide what he wanted to do with his life. This quickly led him to decide that it was time to finally leave. Still bitter at Ellie for things out of her control and sick of the rest of his family, he packed his things and left without even a note, dropping out of school and never looking back. Scamp had heard Dodger talk about Buster when he ran away and even spotted his gang a couple of times, so it wasn’t that hard to find them again once he was on his own. Unsure if Dodger would even still be around, it was still his only lead and that’s where he went.

Scamp didn’t find Dodger right away, but he did stay with Buster for a while. He didn’t fit in with their gang at all at first, but he learned a lot from Buster and was too naive to notice how controlling he was in the beginning. Buster even taught Scamp how to work on cars, and for the first time, Scamp felt like he was seen for his strengths and not for his mistakes. Unfortunately, Scamp eventually understood why Dodger and Angel didn’t stick around. Not only was Buster controlling and crazy, but he began treating Scamp very differently once he made the connection that Scamp was Scott Tramp’s son; apparently there was some history there. Scamp soon did the same as Angel and Dodge and took off too, reconnecting with Dodger after being on his own for a few days and even reaching out to Ellie to let her know he was okay. He moved in with Dodge and his pack of friends in their apartment and continued to keep in touch with his twin sister, but it was a while before they saw each other again in person. Scamp was surprised when Danielle showed up to his work one day with her Mini Cooper asking for car advice, although she was only stalling — eventually, she admitted that she was moving away from their family too, and came to be closer to him again. Scamp hadn’t realized until then how much he hurt Ellie by being away for so long, so now he’s working hard trying to make it up to her and be a better brother.

Headcanons

Scamp and their dad always fought and butted heads. Everyone always compared them constantly, right down to him being named after his dad, and Scamp resented it. Even if there were stories of his dad being rebellious back in his youth or whatever, Scamp still refused to believe they were anything alike. The irony was that the more that Scamp rebelled, the more he truly was like his dad.

He hates going by Scott since it’s his dad’s name

The clumsiest motherfucker you’ll ever meet. Can often be found with untied shoelaces 

He’s also not much of a smooth talker, even though he tries to be. He’s not had much luck with dating, though he’s been interested in one girl in particular for a while now. He and Angel have crossed paths multiple times throughout the years and she’s always caught his eye, but something about timing between them sucks. Between Buster and Dodger being with Angel the chances Scamp could have had, the last thing he wanted to do was shoot his shot and piss either of them off. Now that Angel is working with his sister at the casino though, he’s hoping he can finally get his chance. 

He did secretly have a fling with Ellie’s best friend, Violet, after a drunk hook-up together. They both were obviously interested in other people, but were unable to act on those feelings — it was easier back then to be a distraction to each other than to face reality 

He was diagnosed with ADHD in elementary school and is medicated for it, though he isn’t great at remembering to take his meds (his mom was the one who reminded him most of the time)

Now that he realizes he's skilled with cars, he actually sees a future for himself. For now, he’s just working at a nearby mechanic shop, but he hopes to one day run a place of his own. He’s mentioned the idea to Dodger in hopes that he’d go in on it with him, but he isn’t sure Dodge would commit

Part of being a better brother to Ellie is making sure she’s staying out of trouble, and he can’t help but feel like she’s acting out because he’s being protective. He knows he can’t even be annoyed about it because he’s the same way, and he knows if he tries to call her out, she’ll call him a hypocrite

ESFP

[miraculouscontent]

Not really directed at anything specifically, more just based on things I’ve heard from friends and what they say others are talking about. Just needed to get this off my chest.

So... “Syren” airs, and Chat Noir gets upset by a secret that is neither Plagg’s nor Ladybug’s to tell. Both the fandom and the show/writers think he is right for doing this, even as he threatens to quit while Paris drowns if not told the secret. He is ultimately rewarded in the end with the secret because, according to one of the writers, “Chat was correct and deserved to know.”

Later down the line, “Truth” gets a synopsis.

It hasn’t aired, it simply gets a synopsis (I must also add that a previous synopsis in the same season had been wrong).

Based on said synopsis, the fandom gets riled up about Luka supposedly being upset by a secret Marinette is keeping (her identity), going on about how he “doesn’t have a right to Marinette’s secret,” “is being extremely entitled,” and “doesn’t deserve to know Marinette’s identity,” as it is “Marinette’s right” to tell whoever she wants.

In truth, the actual episode features Luka struggling and fighting against the akuma, because he actually believes that he is not, in fact, entitled to Marinette’s secret, wanting her to share it rather than it being forced out of her. He is then “punished” for this when the show has the couple break up due to Marinette believing that she’s not allowed to have a boyfriend, all thanks to her secrets. Nevertheless, Luka maintains his previous stance and wants Marinette to tell him things whenever she’s ready to do so.

“Gang of Secrets” airs two episodes later, featuring the exact opposite philosophy. Over the phone, Marinette’s friends claim that they want her to talk with them when she’s ready, only to barrel into her room minutes later and insist that she talk to them. She refuses, kicking them out, and they get akumatized without resistance in order to force her to tell them her secret. After the fact, without so much as an on-screen apology from them, Marinette folds and talks about (some of) her problems. This also features another “whenever you’re ready” from Alix that may or may not be a simple joke given how the group laughs at it. Once all but Alya and Marinette are left in the room, Marinette has a mental breakdown and gives Alya her most precious secret: her identity as Ladybug.

Upon this episode airing, the fandom is upset at Marinette, not for telling her secret, but for not telling Chat Noir her secret instead of Alya, because Chat deserved her secret. This is also after “Chat Blanc,” where Marinette is aware that “her love with Chat” and Chat knowing her identity nearly led to the end of the world, and it is later confirmed in “Sentibubbler” that Marinette has actual trauma over the moment, never made aware of the specific mistake Chat made (i.e: keeping his knowledge of her identity a secret) that caused the issue in the first place, thus leaving her with all of the blame as the timeline is scrubbed away and Adrien is left with no actual lesson, even from Bunnix who could’ve chided him for his priority on love over safety. Chat received no consequences for this (not remembering his time as an akuma) and was even rewarded for his erased-from-time decisions as Ladybug laid her head on his shoulder, happy to have him back after the nightmare she’d lived where everyone was dead because her partner prioritized dating her over telling her that he knew her identity, despite her repeated stressing that no one must know.

(”Glaciator” also follows this formula, forcing Ladybug to apologize first and then having her blush when Chat kisses her cheek after he’d put up a huff mid-battle, while Marinette is blamed both for Andre’s akumatization and not going to a date that she didn’t promise to go to.)

Cut to some time later, when “Crocoduel” airs. Marinette, believing that she only causes problems for Luka and that he would rather be away from his own birthday party than be around the girl who “broke his heart” and “got him akumatized twice” (the first time being Silencer, something that apparently she, Alya, and the show blame her for), asks Juleka in private to make sure Luka isn’t present at the party. She later apologizes for this, admitting that she was unreasonable in her request.

The fandom proceeds to go off on Marinette, stating that she is selfish and that Luka “deserves better.” This is in direct contrast to episodes that feature Marinette/Ladybug apparently slighting Adrien/Chat (according to the fandom), where rejection is not wished on the ship itself, but rather a desire that Marinette/Ladybug apologize to Adrien/Chat and repent for her sins so that he can be happy and they can get together.

Interestingly enough, complete radio silence is given on the friends who had forced Marinette to go to the event in the first place (and also had supposed “whenever you’re ready” development in “Gang of Secrets”), not consulting with Luka on the matter nor considering what either would want, and only asking for Juleka’s permission in what is essentially an afterthought (having made plans without her input first). This is made doubly “interesting” by the fact that the action of said friends is what leads to the supposed “end of Lukanette,” with them officially confirming becoming friends.

Finally, cut to the most recent episode (at the time of writing this), “Wishmaker.” In this episode, through two different instances of Second Chance, Luka discovers the identities of both Ladybug and Chat Noir, shocked and later saddened by both revelations. When asked by Ladybug, he makes the decision to not tell her that he knows anything, though the current reason for this is unknown.

The fandom, once again, goes up in arms. They are upset by Luka’s lie (to a hero who he now knows is extremely stressed about her future and needs little else to worry about) regardless of whatever the reason may or may not be revealed to be. This is a far cry from the “golden boy” Adrien Agreste, who has not only lied (whether by omission or otherwise) on multiple occasions (”Copycat,” “Miraculous New York,” and “Chat Blanc”), but when Ladybug’s identity was put into his hands (the hands of a permanent hero who has one of the two exact miraculouses wanted by Hawk Moth), he chose not to say anything so he could date her.

Neither had a magical charm to protect them while one of them had a rabbit hero to erase his actions as if that removes what he would’ve done if given the chance, while Ladybug is left with the guilt and trauma. Both were told that identities are precious, and one lies for reasons riddled with ambiguity while the other lies in order to date the person who has already rejected one side of himself. One is a “threat” to the endgame ship and is either sympathized with or criticized depending on what will make his own ship look worse (and whose likeability seems to coincide by how “threatening” he is and what importance he receives in comparison to his “competition”), while the other is part of the endgame ship and is treated accordingly by the show and fanbase, his actions defended and validated while the blame falls on the other side of his ship.

In the end, Marinette and Luka are dealt an equally bad hand, and both are dealing with consequences of Adrien’s actions. Adrien had gotten to peacefully date “Ladybug” in a removed timeline because he selfishly kept a secret (and, again, was ultimately rewarded for it), while Marinette suffered dating Luka because she selflessly kept a secret (leading to him being akuamtized and her to nearly have a mental breakdown). Luka, meanwhile, who has had a track record of being incredibly selfless and having a history of always keeping Marinette’s feelings/best interests in mind, now knows both Ladybug and Chat Noir’s identities, and the latter being because Chat Noir let himself get hit by the akuma’s powers in the first place.

Yet it’s Luka who gets heat, and Marinette who gets heat, while Adrien isn’t even so much as on the back burner.

Isn’t history fun?