#my apologies for simping over an old man

[girl-named-matty]

[jessamine-rose]

*lovingly tackles Aine*

Read my Yandere! Pierro longfics first ♪( ´▽｀)

Last week, my beloved mutual @ainescribe surprised me with Savior! Darling fan art and AHAI9232@2-!/! CRYING SCREAMING I WANT TO LOOK AT THIS ART AND WORSHIP YOUR VERSION OF SAVIOR THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BLESSING ME WITH YOUR ART—

*clears throat* Anyway, now that I finally have the time to properly sit down and comment on the fan art, I’ll do just that. Feedback will be in the tags and it will be unhinged. Once again, thank you so much to Aine for drawing this <3

[localplaguenurse]

hii (this is my first time requesting !!)

I seen you do stuff for pantalone?.. and I was wondering if you could do a jealousy fic...? Maybe..?

Just something short and sweet :3

"It fits you." (Pantalone/GN Reader ft. Dottore)

Notes: No real warning, just a short fic, slightly oblivious reader ig, also you cannot tell me that Pantalone would not be an absolute simp for his spouse

The Doctor’s unexpected presence in one’s home would normally send people into a state of absolute panic. For you, however, it’s just another Tuesday whenever you see him or one of his segments in your home to meet with Pantalone. Sometimes they stay for dinner, sometimes they stay for tea, and sometimes they leave as soon as they and your husband have come to an agreement. You’re used to it by now, and today is no different. 

You give Pantalone’s office door a knock, and hear him call out yes? a moment later. You open the door and poke your head inside, spotting your husband sitting at his desk and a young man with curly short teal hair and a black and white mask sat in front of it. Pantalone smiles when he sees you, while the segment seems indifferent, perhaps annoyed at the interruption.

Your face flushes a little out of embarrassment. “Oh, I didn’t know you were in the middle of a meeting. Sorry!”

“No need to apologize, my dear,” Pantalone replies, “that is on me. Things have been a little hectic, so mentioning it must have slipped my mind. Besides, you’re always pleasant company, right Beta?”

Beta almost rolls his eyes at how sappy the Regrator starts acting every time he sees you. “Sure.”

“What is it, my dear?”

“Lunch will be ready in about ten minutes,” you tell him. 

“Very well. We shouldn’t be much longer.”

You look to the segment in front of your husband’s desk. “Will you be staying for lunch? I can have our chef make you something as well.”

Beta goes to open his mouth, but pauses when his eyes meet yours. After a moment, he breaks the silence. “What is that?”

For a second, his question catches you off guard. You tilt your head, confused. “What are you referring to?”

“Your shirt.”

You look down. “Oh, um… what about it?”

“It looks nice.”

You blink, surprised that was where he was going with his questioning. Even Pantalone seems caught off considering Beta’s usual behavior. Still, you can’t help but smile a little, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, thank you. This is just an old thing I had in the back of my closet. All my good shirts are in the wash and all, so…”

Out of the corner of Beta’s eye, he sees Pantalone give him a puzzled look. At this, Beta feels his lips curl. He turns so he can look at you more, and he speaks.

“It fits you very well.”

You laugh and thank him once more before you leave the room. You think it’s sweet that Beta thinks your shirt fits with the rest of your attire. When Beta turns back around to face Pantalone, he is still smiling, but there is something vitriolic in his expression. Clearly, he is unimpressed that the segment would make such a blatant remark about how your shirt fits on your body.

Beta just laughs. “You’re a lucky man, Pantalone.”

Pantalone cannot tell how much of this is an attempt to get under his skin, but he preys on Beta’s behalf that it is just a joke. Either way, the man does not laugh alongside the segment.He simply scoops up the proposal set before him and reads it once more. “That I am. Now, I think this is the end of our meeting.” He looks up over the paper to Beta. “I will get in contact with you when I approve of your funding.”

Beta smiles and nods, then takes his leave. When the door shuts, Pantalone drops the papers into his wastebin.

—

In the midst of his work, Pantalone’s concentration is broken when the office door opens. He looks up, wondering who would be entering without knocking first, and sighs.

Dottore takes a seat across from Pantalone, making himself right at home. Before Pantalone can ask what the man is doing in his home, Dottore cuts him off. “The Beta segment is wondering why you did not approve his funding or contact him once in the past two weeks.”

Pantalone chuckles. “Oh, simple. I told him I would contact him when I approve his funding. I didn’t approve it, so I did not contact him. What is the problem?”

“He wants to know where you ‘get off’ on ignoring him,” Dottore replies.

Pantalone clasps his hands together, grinning. “Perhaps I would have informed him of the rejection if he had the sense not to openly leer at someone’s spouse.”

Dottore’s mouth stretches into a grin before he cackles. Nothing more is said from either man as the Doctor stands up from the chair and leaves the room.

[enchantedlov3r]

Yes to daddy kink as Joel fucking dear reader clueless until he's successful into giving Ellie a sibling and he doesn't care how long it'll take. After all, we want to be his good girl, we want to give him our babies

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! that's exactly how I screamed when I saw this request. Beware, you may need a towel during your experience...mwah!

Can be found in my masterlist as: Bred and fed

joel was the man you simped for so badly. you weren't that old. mid 30's while joel was in his 50's.

ellie was young and she was like a daughter to you. she drifted towards you when joel and her made it to jackson.

you hung out at their house more often and you spent a lot of time with joel as well living the domestic life.

you started to crush on him. his texan accent, the way he carried himself and asserted dominance, the way he looked at you, his smile, his laugh, god- everything about him just made you gush.

especially those hot ass arms he had. he could choke you and throw you into a wall and you'd thank him and call him daddy.

you were always shy and innocent. you didn't learn what sex really was until you were about 20.

this disease infected apocalypse didn't turn you into a full bloodsheding killer but it did make you more reserved and cautious of your surroundings and the people around you.

what you failed to see was how intoxicated joel was by you. every single thought running through his brain was always you and ellie.

then he put pieces together. seeing you live this domestic life with him and ellie made him think.

what if he made you his and then fucked you until you were impregnated by him.

then he could finally give ellie a sibling to tell her stupid but silly jokes to. the more joel thought about it, the more he yearned and craved for you.

so, today he was finally going to have what was rightfully his. he walked into the kitchen after being in the bathroom to freshen up to see you already up and washing dishes.

you had slept over the night before and joel let you take his room while he slept in the guest room.

you liked the smell of his sheets, they smelled just like him. you were currently wearing one of his flanneled shirts buttoned up and some panties.

nothing more, nothing less. joel had given you some of his shorts but you chose panties instead.

his eyes widened when he quietly made his way to the kitchen to see your glorious figure standing there.

you looked like a goddess. how the sun shined on your face illuminating your skin tone. how you looked so happy and peaceful washing the few dishes in the skin from the night before.

"howdy." joel spoke out causing you to gasp and turn around. "jeez joel, you scared the crap outta me!" you exclaim.

"sorry ma'am, wasn't my intention." he responds, winking at you as you shyly smile at him.

"well how was your rest? good I hope?" you ask, a little guilty for taking his room.

"slept real good, what about you? I know my bed is real comfy." joel responds taking a few steps closer to you as he leans on the counter watching you was the remaining dishes.

"it was really comfy, thank you again joel! I am sorry to impose but I just like spending time with ellie, you know?" you express smiling at him as you put the last dish in the dishwasher.

"yea, and no need to apologize darling. you're always welcome and as a matter of fact, where is that kid?" joel addresses.

"oh, she left to go hang with dina and jesse but, I think she might be out longer cause she's going on patrol with jesse later." you answer his question while drying your hands and wiping down the counters.

"ah, ok. well, what are you doin' later hun?" he asks smiling down at you. your cheeks feel warmer and its not the heat.

you shy away and smile down at your feet. "I was planning on staying in your house a little longer if that's ok? just uhm-wanted to spend some time with you if you weren't too busy." you speak out with a small smile.

"mhmm. well I have an idea of some fun we can have." joel leans down closer to your ear. you gasp at the sudden closeness and the feeling of his breath fanning against your neck.

"what do you say to the idea of jogging your pretty ass up them stairs and laying on my bed for me ass up hmm? how's that sound babygirl?" joel whispered seductively in your ear. his texan accent going straight to your throbbing pussy.

you can't deny the idea nor the throbbing between your legs. joel really had a way with words and making you feel loads of butterflies dance in your tummy.

your eyes just couldn't meet his but, he grabs your chin and tilts your head upwards so your big cute doe eyes meets his. "I need a answer sweet pea." joel asks. you quickly nod at him and let out an 'mhm' and quickly scurry up the stairs.

he chuckles at your reaction before biting his lip and walking up the stairs after you.

when joel arrives in the room he sees your pretty ass up in the air and your glistening cunt. your arms stretched out in front of you while you whine out as the cool breeze hits your bare pussy.

"atta girl. your so good for me." joel says as he walks closer slapping your ass making you yelp out in surprise.

"you know, i've been thinkin baby, ellie's been needin' a sibling, and I wanna give 'er that. so why don't you let me breed you huh? give me a baby love?" joel asks unbuckling his belt and letting his pant's drop.

you whine and nod obediently. "words hun, I need words." he groans out as he runs his hard cock through your folds.

"mhm p-please put a baby in me joel, pretty please. I wanna give ellie a sibling."you cry out as he slowly slips his tip inside your aching wet hole.

"that's my good girl." joel says completely submerging himself inside you.

he groans in your ear when he has successfully inserted himself inside you. he wraps his strong bicep around your neck, you moan out at the feeling of his arm tightening around your throat.

your doe eyes going wide and your tongue hanging out as you moan joels name out loud.

joel lets you adjust and begins to thrust into you, grunting while he feels your tight walls squeeze his cock.

"fuck sweetheart, you squeezing me real good." joel groans as his thrusts pick up pace.

the whole bed is shaking and your screaming at this point, screaming in pleasure as the adrenaline courses through your veins and joels.

joel grunts and moans deeply in your ear as you egg him on with pleas of him giving you a baby. "come on joel, just give it to me. please."

"imma give it to you baby girl don't you worry your pretty little head. bambi." he groans into your ear.

you rub your arm towards your soaking pussy and rub your clit fast as you feel your high approaching, you just needed joel to take you to the edge.

"come on joel, make me cum, put a fucking baby in me pretty please!!!" you scream out as his cock hits your cervix.

"fuckfuckfuck! I'm gonna cum in this pretty pussy bambi. oh f-fuck!" joel groans out.

a couple more thrusts later and his seed is being spilled inside of you. nice and warm cum seeping into your stomach.

you moan as you cum with joel creaming around his cock as your high courses through you.

joel keeps his cock inside you just to make sure nothing seeps out, he wants to make sure that your chances of getting pregnant is high and accurate.

both of you heavily breathing, holding each other under the sheets with joels thick cock still inside you.

"gonna make sure nothing comes out. I want you full and pregnant with my kid." he whispers in your ear as he rubs your stomach.

Taglist: @raynesbandaids

[ayrtonswnna]

⠀⠀⠀CERTIFIED HATER. 〃 charles leclerc smau

⠀⠀⠀⠀ charles leclerc x marie vettel (vettel!female oc)

marie vettel goes live and gets asked about her dad's old teammate. she's got a way to get his attention.

ʚïɞ check my masterlist 〃 drop a request 〃 follow me on AO3!

warnings: explicit language, charles gets butthurt, a lot of funzies, character acting like she doesn't care (but she does), petty character, not much more than that

⠀⠀⠀⠀twitter, by may 2024.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ view comments:

⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel's instagram stories

⠀⠀↳ replies to this stories:

username: we just hope you die ❤️

username2: that wasn't your humblest opinion at all lol

landonorris: at this point you should just say sorry..... wtf marie

marievettel: ???????

marievettel: i am a woman to my words.

username3: go to the nearest wall and hit your head pls l

charlesleclerc: hhahaha

charlesleclerc: i can take an "overrated" opinion or two, but not that cute???? you're over your head

marievettel: fantastic.

⠀⠀DMs between marievettel and charlesleclerc

⠀⠀marievettel via instagram feed

liked by lancestroll, tyla and 992.384 others.

marievettel: it's been a damn hot minute 🏎️ (someone's trying to prove me wrong)

view comments on this post:

username: attention seeker 🙄🙄

username2: ...enemies to lovers?

landonorris: you're a bastard.

marievettel: you could actually help me out on this thing by winning ❤️

username3: how thw fuck does she disrespect the institution and the driver himself and gets a garage access by the next week?

marievettel: girl.... i am my father's daughter.

username4: you guys acting all bodyguards on charles when they might actually talk on private, just psycho behavior.

charlesleclerc: make yourself comfortable 🥰

marievettel: will do!

⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel via twitter

⠀⠀charlesleclerc via twitter

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ view comments:

⠀DMs between marievettel and charlesleclerc

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀f1gosspip via twitter

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ view comments:

⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel's instagram stories

⠀⠀↳ replies to this stories:

username: "kinda cute" then it's greek god man

username2: baby girl just fuck this man already

username3: you are creepy and i hope charles dumps you

landonorris: i knew that would happen eventually

marievettel: yeah me too

charlesleclerc: post the damn apology and then call me, i'm picking you up when i'm done here

marievettel: non conventional way to ask me out

charlesleclerc: well you kinda had an unconventional way to get my attention so we're even

marievettel: i wouldn't say even

⠀⠀⠀⠀marievettel via twitter

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ view comments:

⠀⠀⠀⠀charlesleclerc via ig stories

⠀⠀↳ replies to this stories:

username: just fascinating

maxvertappen1: you are unhinged

sebastianvettel: take care you two!

charlesleclerc: sebbbb charlesleclerc: it is not what you think sebastianvettel: it is exactly what i think 😂 she's a genius with the hate charlesleclerc: and i hate to admit you're right sebastianvettel: have fun and don't make me a grandpa already, please charlesleclerc: we are NOT talking about it

username: where's the trophyyyy he just comes running over to meee

marievettel: god now i am dead. ur fans are gonna murder me

charlesleclerc: shouldn't have acted up at first 🤷🏻🤷🏻

⠀⠀marievettel via instagram feed

liked by lewishamilton, arthur_leclerc and 1.114.893 others.

marievettel: daytime in monaco kinda hits different. (just for you guys to know, i've known this fool for long enough. we go wayyy back)

view comments on this post:

username: srry mama im only looking at your boobs rn

username2: when you think its done... a vettel will find their way to terrorize the paddock

username3: by way back she meant shes simping for him ever since she was a teenager watching him race with her dad

sebastianvettel: menaces!!!

charlesleclerc: wayyyyyy back.

⠀⠀charlesleclerc via instagram feed

liked by sebastianvettel, carlossainz55 and 1.576.016 others.

charlesleclerc: cute as ever with company now.

view comments on this post:

username: dopeass car

username1: oh how he looks happy (irony)

username2: cant imagine what kind of bullshit marie was talking from behind the camera for cha to have that look on his face

marievettel: apparently i am not much of a hyper ):

username3: i want to be like her when i grow up

username4: he wont ever let it go lmaaao

marievettel: i was trying to get to you with the driving skills talk but damn how i lied..... youre HANDSOME

charlesleclerc: was waiting to hear that from you

ʚïɞ check my masterlist 〃 drop a request 〃 more charles! ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2025

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 20: All The Little Things 

Summary: Arthur takes note of all the little things you do for him and tries to decide if he’s ready to take your relationship to the next level. 

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW - This one is a bit longer than I planned, sorry!

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*This beautiful images comes from the always stunning @foundynnel

*Beta-read by the wonderfully supportive @readingcoco (Thank you for herding in my thoughts, my friend!)

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4​ @bimbo-dollz​ @pine4pple-b0i​ @redwritr​ @kuri-chans-blog​ @queer-sadie-adler​ @joelmillerswifey​ @gimmethosedaddymilkers​ @pcotarelo​ @delilah-grimes​ @maemortem​ @wistfulwisteriawitch​ @lilacxxdreams​ @mentallyillfrogs​ @absolutegeek​ @spurz​ @sophiaj650​ @uniqueclodzinevoid​ @lookingformaurice​ @pawoui​ @randomidk-123​ @yyiikes​ @eddiemetalheadmunson​ @twola​ @kmartkiddieisle​ @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic​  @rhehr241​  @earwen-x​ @akariver75​ @djennty​ @nervousmumbling​ @xliliths​ @unbotheredbeeeee​ @onnetonprinsessa​ @kittiowolf210​ @ezrynn​ @suhiss @arthurmargon​​ @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler​​ @alice-vanderlinde​​ @sweetandstoned21​​ @j4llyf7sh @spooky631​​ @m0r4rx @ilovrxats​​ @i-69-urmom​​ @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Arthur proclaimed your affections for each other and you have quickly settled into a comfortable routine. With Arthur being a senior member of the gang, and with you as his woman, you feel that you need to step up and contribute more to the Van Der Linde Gang. And Dutch and Ms. Grimshaw couldn’t be more thrilled. 

The gang must always come first - that is what Arthur has instilled in you and it’s what you have come to adopt as your own adage too. You feel that same sense of belonging and responsibility for these people and finally begin to truly understand Arthur’s unrelenting loyalty to them. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and as long as the gang does well, the people within it will prosper. 

You are quickly becoming more embedded into this rag-tag group than you had ever thought you would. It’s not just a group of random individuals or a place for you to hide for safety, they are your family now, just as they are Arthur’s. These are the people who comfort you when you need it, and protect you as one of their own. They laugh with you; they yell and stomp angrily with you. You affectionately think of them and pick-up little gifts that will make their day, and you are rewarded with their love and appreciation in return. This is what Arthur is devoutly devoted to, this sense of belonging. For this is much more than a gang of lawbreakers. These people chose each other, which is a bond tighter than most blood relatives. 

The sun is just climbing into its zenith in the autumn sky, desperately trying to break its radiant beams through the gray, overcast clouds to shine down upon the earth below. You and Tilly rumble into camp on a wagon, having just come back from town with a load full of supplies. Mr. Pearson greets you as the old wooden vehicle creaks to a halt. He waddles over and peers his chubby face over the side. The cook is thrilled, seeing an extra crate of potatoes, two more tins of lard and a sack of grain more than he expected you to return with. 

“I guess battin’ those eyelashes of yours at the store owner goes a lot further than I thought,” the portly man teases you as he grabs some of the items from the back of the wagon. 

You beam back at him with a smile of pride as you hike up your skirt into your hand and climb down from the wagon seat. “What is it they say? ‘Catch more flies with honey than vinegar?’”, you hum.

“Well, don’t be surprised if I start sending you out more often, then. We’ll probably get further along with your pretty face than mine.” Pearson’s round figure vibrates slightly with the laughter of his own joke.

“Just let me know what you need, I’ll be happy to help.” Suddenly you halt dead in your tracks, realizing that you’ve just repeated one of Arthur’s sayings. Tilly is right:  you and Arthur are already starting to act like an old married couple. The phrase causes you to shake your head before moving back to the wagon to grab more of the items to unpack.

You pick up one of the smaller boxes and turn to head over to the tables where the men lazily sit about, discussing random topics and enjoying a brief moment of peace and quiet. Arthur and Hosea sit, each relaxing with a cigarette in hand, listening to Dutch carry on about something that he's read recently. He’s been obsessed with “An American Eden” by Evelyn Miller lately and takes it upon himself to “preach its teachings”, as it were, to whomever is within the sound of his voice to hear it. The small group of men currently around him are not what you’d call “high-brow” and his philosophy lessons tends to fall on deaf ears sometimes. 

“Hello, boys!” you sing as you saunter over, being met with a collection of head-nods and grins of acknowledgement.

As you grab their attention, you proceed to hand-out a few thoughtful extras that you pilfered in town. You toss a package of new guitar strings to Javier who snatches them out of the air with one of his nimble hands. 

“Gracias, mi amor!” he beams happily as he examines the small bundle in his hands. “Where did you come across these?”

“Don’t you worry about it. I have my ways,” you smirk with an accompanying wink.

You reach over to hand a new book to Hosea with a smile, and offer a premium cigar to Dutch, who gratefully accepts your gift with appreciative eyes. Placing the empty box on the table, you look over at Arthur. “Oh, and by the way, Arthur, I think I saw that jack-rabbit you’re chasing in town today.”

Arthur’s head perks up right away. “The Petersen bounty?”

“Yeah. He was over by the brothel. By the looks of it, he’ll be holed up there for a while,” you say nonchalantly as you pull an apple out of your skirt pocket and rub its red skin against your sleeve before biting into the crisp, juicy fruit. 

“Well shit, why are you just telling me this now?” Arthur huffs impatiently as he quickly gets up and starts moving towards the horses.

“Like I said, he’s in no hurry.” You shrug. “Do I get a finder’s fee for my part?” you call after him with a grin as you watch him pull Buck from the hitching posts. 

Arthur just waves you off as he slides his dusty boot into the stirrup and hastily slings up into Buck’s saddle, taking off for town. 

—---------------------------------------------------

The flames of the evening’s campfire pop and crackle softly as they roll and crawl over the slightly damp wood. The aroma of heady oak permeates the air and the smoky plumes rise and dance up towards the night sky. You and Arthur sit alone on the ground by the fire, leaning back against a log with a blanket wrapped over your legs. The night is quiet as the stars sparkle overhead. Most people are playing cards at one of the tables, or have drifted off to their tents for the evening. 

The fire offers its warmth and golden glow, creating a soft ambiance. Arthur pulls you in for a gentle, absentminded kiss, and you find yourselves wholly content with each other, forgetting that the rest of the world exists as lovers often do. Your lips run languidly, with no urgency or demand as if working of their own accord. You start to gently rake your fingers across Arthur’s chest, slowly flexing to curl around the worn fabric of his faded brown shirt and occasionally reaching up to caress along his neck and chin. The feeling of his skin radiates through your fingertips and down into the palm of your soft hand. Eyes rolling shut, you smile into his mouth in blissful happiness as his arms lovingly and protectively envelop you. 

Arthur’s strong hand sits on your hip, lightly grasping at the supple flesh hidden under the fabric of your skirt. He loves the feeling of your skin on his, it doesn’t matter what the scenario is. Whether it’s his fingers grazing yours when he hands you a cup of fresh-brewed coffee, or when his hips are pounding into yours in the throws of passion, or even just as it is now when the softest of kisses land upon his chapped lips: the feeling of you against him is like electricity pulsing throughout his entire body, bringing him to life, just like that weird story by Mary Shelley that you read to him.  

It’s a rare thing for the two of you to be left alone in camp like this. Usually you have to hide away if you want any sort of privacy. But truth be told, the rest of the gang is respectfully giving the two of you some space. It’s nice not having a bitter and angry Arthur around all of the time. Ever since you publicly claimed him in the middle of camp as yours, he hasn’t been as snarky or barking at people like he usually does. And of course, people will do anything for you. The demands of daytime chores and responsibilities are one thing, but the calm evenings are left for you two. Sure, not every night is as peaceful as this, so you revel in the rare moment of solitude when the two of you can get it. 

Arthur’s lips eventually part from yours to leave a trail of delicate kisses under your jaw and down your neck, hitting that favorite spot of his. The place behind your ear is where the softest skin he has found on your body is hidden. That spot always tastes so heavenly to him and draws that little breathless noise from you that drives him wild. 

Arthur’s nose buries into your hair, picking up the floral notes of the soap you use to wash it with. You giggle and nuzzle him as your hands come up to cradle his head, your fingers entwined into the locks of his hair, hugging him to you as your nose wrinkles in merriment when his beard stubble delightfully tickles your sensitive skin. 

And suddenly, as you roll your body closer into his, before you can even think twice about it, the words just float from your lips like a dandelion seed being carried on a summer breeze. 

“I love you, Arthur.” Your voice is a breathless sigh of utter contentment, a melody singing through the air.

You haven’t seen his face yet, but feel his movements halt as his whole body goes rigid against you. Arthur slowly pulls his face from your neck and looks at you, speechless, with shocked and confused eyes, face flushed a shade of scarlet to rival the fire in front of you.

But you quickly place your fingers over his lips as if to hush any sort of protest he may have. “Now before you go crazy, Arthur, you don’t have to say it back. I simply said it because I wanted to, because it felt right just now.” You give him a soft and reassuring smile, amused by his reaction as he continues to stare at you, blinking quietly. You can tell he wants to say something in return, but can’t find the words as his mouth begins to work, but no sound comes out. 

“It’s okay, Arthur,” you giggle. “Really. I didn’t tell you that to hear it back. I just wanted to make sure you know it. And you can say it if, and when, you’re ready.”

You pause to give him a moment to answer, to make sure he understands that you have no demand of him, but you can see that he is still troubled and finding it hard to articulate what he needs to say. You honestly do not need him to say it back to you. How he treats you is how he feels about you, regardless of words stated or not. Words are used to manipulate people. His actions show you everything you need to know. So thankfully, you put him out of his misery by leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth as he continues to look at you dumbstruck.

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Arthur.” You pat his cheek affectionately as a look of empathy sits upon your face. “I don’t need you having a heart attack over it. Like I said, you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know where my heart lies.” 

Arthur’s forehead creases as he watches you stand up, brushing the dried leaves out of your skirt before reaching down for your blanket. You bend over to catch his scarred chin in your fingertips. “Goodnight, Arthur,” you whisper and kiss him again. You give him an impish little grin before heading over to your tent for the night. 

You leave Arthur still sitting speechless on the ground, a troubled look settled upon his handsome face as he watches your lovely form fade into the darkness of night before disappearing from view altogether as you close your tent. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

In the days that follow, Dutch announces that he is going to move the camp again. You are all sitting around the fire when he proceeds with an impassioned speech about moving south just outside of a town called Blackwater. 

You watch Dutch as he presents himself to the group, noting how he carries himself in front of others. He is charismatic and passionate, a natural-born leader. Since you have known the dark-haired devil, he has always had a dramatic and commanding presence, drawing his people to him with his idealism and wit. 

You find it amusing how Dutch’s boldness and optimism is a perfect compliment to Hosea’s skeptical wisdom. The two of them together make quite the dynamic duo, two sides of the same coin. Sometimes you wonder at the true nature of their relationship. Are they “brothers”, just as Arthur and John are, or is there more there, smoldering under the surface like hot coals left after a raging fire has burned down? Both men had their lady-loves in their lives, and both were left devastated when these sparks of light were extinguished in their otherwise dark lives. But you can’t help but wonder if there was ever more to Dutch and Hosea’s relationship than meets the eye. The “curious couple and their unruly sons.” The very idea of it makes you regard them with a softer spot in your heart.

The gang is preparing to go to work and the new location has some hot tips emanating from it. The camp is abuzz with packing and planning with everyone sprinting about and working on their assigned tasks. Arthur and Hosea are discussing a real estate tip around West Elizabeth, while Micah and Dutch have their own plan…something about a ferry boat. 

Arthur and Hosea wander to sit at one of the campfires, away from distractions, and are busy discussing their tip and planning for the new move when Hosea casually asks Arthur about you.

“So…how’s things going with (Y/N)?” He gives Arthur a sly smile with that twinkle in his eye. Hosea has been silently observing the budding courtship from the beginning, carefully watching for any signs of discord that would need to be nipped in the bud before trouble brews. 

A slight pink dusts Arthur’s face at the older man’s inquiry, visible even under his week-old beard. A sheepish little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he purses his lips in thought. 

“Have you ever wanted to listen to every word someone says, even about the smallest thing in the world just so you can see their face light up and hear their voice?” 

Hosea gives a light-hearted chuckle as he brings his cigarette to his wrinkled lips. “Yeah, that girl broke down those walls of yours without you even noticing she was doin’ it, didn’t she?”

But the smile slowly drips from Arthur’s face as a dark cloud settles over his features. A deep and sad sigh pushes its way from his broad chest under his worn beige jacket. His eyes relax their focus and stray to look out over the camp as he absentmindedly chews on his bottom lip. Hosea notices the change in mood and immediately fears the worst. 

“Ah, shit, what did you do?” accuses the old man in disappointment.

“Nothing!” Arthur counters defensively as his face snaps back to Hosea’s attention. But he is met with the clever fox’s skeptical scowl. Arthur hesitates to share what’s on his mind, afraid that once he verbalizes the phrase again, it will become all too real. 

“She…she told me that she loves me,” Arthur admits quietly, before letting his gaze float to the worn leather of his boots, his toe poking at the grass.

Like a switch has been pulled, Hosea’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Well, that’s great news, my boy!” He claps Arthur on the shoulder in congratulations. “Although I could’ve told you that after the first week she was here with us.” But when Arthur doesn't return his friend’s enthusiasm, Hosea’s smile quickly turns down again in confusion, eying him up cautiously. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“What, are you tellin’ me that you don’t love her?” Hosea asks incredulously, his face drawing up in disbelief. 

“No, I wasn’t sayin’ that at all,” pouts Arthur. “‘Cause I do,” he says with a slight, yet definitive nod. The man fidgets slightly, his hands suddenly sweaty and shaky as he finally admits outloud what he’s known internally for awhile. A short, yet sharp exhale escapes him, as the statement is now out there, exposing his fragile heart for the first time in a long while. 

“Well, then I fail to see the problem,” presses Hosea with a flippant wave of his hand in exasperation.

Arthur fidgets with the cigarette in his fingers, slowly rolling it between his thumb and index finger. “What if she realizes that she doesn’t? Love me, I mean?” He catches Hosea’s eye. “What if she wakes up one mornin’ and decides she don’t want me no more?” He turns his gaze outward, focusing on nothing again. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Arthur cringes when he hears his own voice whining about being loved, bitching about the same thing he said to Marston a few weeks ago. Yes, it’s sooo horrible to have a wonderful woman love me. He thinks sarcastically. God, I’m pathetic.

“I suppose I see your point.” Hosea nods his head in understanding, as Arthur’s worry becomes all too clear. “So what if she does one day? Hmm?” The old man waves his hand dismissively in the air. “But, what if it turns out that (Y/N) wants to be with you forever?” Hosea squints at Arthur. “Don't you think she’s worth the gamble?”

Arthur turns his pained eyes back to his old friend. “I can’t go through that again, Hosea. I just…I can’t do it.” He leans out on his elbows onto his thighs, head swimming with ever-present self-doubt, coupled with the desperate yearning for the love and acceptance he’s craved since he was a child. 

“Arthur, if (Y/N) tells you she loves you, you better believe her.” Hosea points his weathered, crooked finger at Arthur, poking him in the chest. “Don’t be afraid to start over. You may like your new story better this time around. (Y/N) ain’t like that other one,” he grumbles, his jaw clenching slightly without even needing to mention Mary by name. 

“No, I suppose you’re right. She surely ain’t.” Arthur sits quietly for a moment, mulling over Hosea’s words. Hosea always has a way of getting him to see reason, always had since Arthur was a kid. Hosea could quiet his mind with just the simplest words. Arthur takes another deep drag of his cigarette before that roguish little grin pops up again. “You know…if I somehow manage not to screw this up, Hosea…I’m gonna marry her.”

The admission makes the old man’s heart almost burst with happiness as he huffs out a laugh and pats Arthur’s shoulder again in approval. “God willing, I’ll live long enough to see that.”

The two men share a soft chuckle between them. They have been through so much together to get to this point in their lives and the idea of hope and love in the future gives them a feeling of contentment that is rare for their kind of life.

Arthur wants you, of that, there is no doubt. After Mary and Eliza, ‘love’ was just a word to Arthur, some meaningless string of letters that he’d hear from Mary-Beth as she read her silly stories. Four little characters that created an empty and almost cold feeling for him. L.O.V.E

But now, the word has taken a whole new form in you. You are his definition of desire. Arthur never knew how engulfing the flames of love could be until now, until you uttered those three simple little words to him. You are the only thing that could have brought him back to life with your hands, your lips, your soul. Arthur would journey to the ends of the earth to keep you in his life. He misses you from the moment you separate. All he knows is that nothing else makes as much sense to him as loving you. This is what it feels like to fall and not know, or care, where you land. 

You have no idea the depth of how you affect Arthur, how you calm the chaos in his head and still the tornado of thoughts that threaten his sanity. When he holds you in his arms, you become the eye of his storm, the center that is safe while the gale rages wildly around him. 

When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to each other. The very presence that is felt through a hand held close, a voice heard drifting into one’s ear, or even that slightest smile that you know is only for you. Souls do not have clocks or calendars; they do not function with the idea of time or distance. Devoted souls only know it feels right once they have found each other. Like a magnet to steel, beloved hearts will always be drawn to each other with that force of nature that is undeniable. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh oh”, whispers Abigail. Her brunette head pops up as she watches with trepidation from where you both pack supplies into one of the wagons. 

You lift your head to follow her sightline and see Micah and Arthur arguing again. The two of them have been at it for the last few days as the plans to move out of the area are beginning to be set into motion. You wonder how Dutch could put his trust in two men who are so drastically different. It follows suit that Micah will run his mouth with Arthur getting a few verbal, sarcastic jabs in here and there. But it usually ends with Arthur simply towering over the much smaller man until he shrinks down into submission in fear of an iron fist landing into that filthy mouth of his. 

This latest fight seems to be in regards to the competing jobs which have been planned for once you all move down towards Blackwater. Arthur wants nothing to do with this ferry job that Micah is pushing, citing it to be reckless and overreaching. The gang has been in the law’s cross-hairs for some time now and he and Hosea both think sticking to smaller, more reliable jobs is best right now. But Micah has been pitching a more grandiose scheme, arguing that the gang needs to strike bold and quick, garnering as much money as you can so you can start to move away from the civilization that is slowly strangling the gang. Unfortunately for Arthur, Micah seems to be like an earworm, burrowing into Dutch’s brain and playing on his already inflated ego.

You and Abigail observe with baited breath to see how far this current argument will go. But it appears Micah is not backing down this time, continuing to push Arthur to the limits of his patience. Suddenly, in a bold move of newfound courage, Micah steps up right in Arthur’s face, almost nose to nose. The cool autumn air is sucked sharply into your lungs as you gasp and your whole body freezes in apprehension, adrenaline like a knife suddenly thrown into your belly. 

“(Y/N)…” Abigail warns, placing her hand on your forearm. But you are already ahead of her, quick to stride over to the feuding men. As you get closer, a small group begins to gather as the yelling continues to escalate. 

“I’d take a step back and reconsider myself if I were you, Micah,” John smirks with a half-hearted warning from where he sits off to the side, sharpening his knife. John knows full-well that it is only a matter of time before this gets physical, as Arthur has little patience. He has seen Arthur pummel men into a pulp for less offensive actions. But truth be told, John would love to see Micah get his ass beat by Arthur. Hell, he’d even consider paying for it. 

Arthur isn’t saying much but you can tell by the heaving of his chest and the scowl etched into his face that he’s a bomb seconds away from exploding. His broad shoulders set hard as stone as Arthur stands even straighter, towering over Micah. His large hands slowly curl into themselves, fists clenched tight like boulders at the end of his pulsing forearms.

Carefully, you approach the two men from the side, watching them closely and trying to gauge how much time you have before Arthur’s fuse burns to the end of the powder-keg. The tension in the air builds uncomfortably, causing a knot to settle in your stomach. 

“Arthur?'' You call his name softly, trying not to startle him. You tilt your head to look up into his face, trying to catch his attention, but Arthur’s icy stare is trained only on Micah. But then you notice that Micah’s hand is hovering at his side, fingers flexing over his gun in its holster. 

This has now elevated to a precarious situation that needs to be diffused quickly and delicately. You don’t understand why no one else is stepping in to break this up, but assume it’s probably to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Out of everyone in the gang, these are probably the two men that you absolutely would not want to tangle with. 

Dutch, conveniently, is not around for this show, which may be why Micah is suddenly so bold to openly challenge Arthur like this. While he likes showing off for Dutch, Micah knows he can push the envelope when the leader of the gang is not around, as if trying to insert himself into that coveted role. Over Arthur’s dead body, that is. 

When Arthur still doesn’t answer you, you inch even closer. Carefully, your arm lifts and moves fluidly across Arthur’s chest to lay your hand against his cheek. You calmly say his name again, “Arthur.” 

The simple act cuts to the outlaw instantly as he blinks out of his angry trance and turns to look at you, confused as if he hadn’t even noticed you were standing there. 

Once you catch his attention, you offer Arthur the softest of smiles, your eyes bright and sparkling, distracting him from the weasel that is his ire at the moment.

“Come with me, please.” Your request is quiet yet authoritative.

“What for?!” he snaps, the fury radiating off of him as you can feel how his whole body is flexed and rigid.

A slow and deep exhale emanates from you as you intensely hold his gaze. “Would you rather go for a walk with me..alone…by the river where it’s peaceful and quiet? Or sit here and argue with Micah Bell?” 

You can see Arthur’s mind trying to process your words, his anger and frustration wrestling with your simple logic.

 “Fine,” he barks, not really directing his venom at you.

Arthur reluctantly lets you snake your arm around his and turn him away from Micah. It’s like trying to pull a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. But Micah will not be dismissed so easily. His eyes narrow as he stares you down, just as you begin to maneuver Arthur away. 

“Oh sure, run and hide behind a skirt!" Micah teases. “Pretty damn sad, Morgan!”

“Shut your damn mouth, Micah, or I will shut it for you. Permanently!” Arthur’s voice booms through the camp as his finger points in Micah’s direction to accent his point. Arthur’s eyes lock coldly with Micah’s as he cranes his neck to shoot Micah one last heated glare before he continues to walk away with you.

“Come on, you,” you delicately chide Arthur, your arm and hands tightening around his bicep just a bit more, eager to get the two of them separated as fast as you can. 

Behind you, Micah stands pouting as the two of you walk away. A pain clicks in his chest as he watches how you handle Arthur. He sucks his lip between his jagged teeth, jaw clamping down on the tender skin. He’s irritated to no end with Arthur, but even more so, with your infatuation with the man. A pang of jealousy cuts deep into Micah as his fists clench open and closed as they still hover over his holster at his side.

“Micah’s got a point. Looks like Arthur’s gone soft on us,” Bill snarks as he stands with his thumbs hanging on his gunbelt.

“I’d like to see you tell him that to his face, Bill,” John quips. 

“Mock all you want, gentlemen,” adds Javier, waving his hand towards Micah and Bill. “But the fact of the matter is, that man is taking that woman to bed tonight.” And he points in your direction. “You two have fun all by yourselves in your tents later.”

“Shut up, Javier,” mumbles Bill. But Micah only stands in angry silence before spinning on his heels and heading off in a huff to get a whiskey bottle from one of the supply wagons to sulk.

The wind kicks up a bit, biting at your cheeks as you walk down the path out of the camp. Arthur is heatedly silent as you walk. It is little wonder to you why so many find him so intimidating and fearsome. 

Passing by the hitching posts, your gray Gypsy gets antsy, whinnying and stomping the ground in a tantrum at the possibility of being left behind. “Ugh, are you acting ornery today, too?” you huff as if scolding a child. “Alright, come on. You can come along, too.” You quickly grab Blue to follow, as he’s been pent up quite a bit lately and is itching to move about. 

You lead Arthur, with your horse in tow, as the path takes you down to the river’s edge. The soft lapping of the water against the sandy edge of the bank offers a calm and welcomed change of scenery. And it is here that you turn Arthur loose, letting him vent loudly, while you simply agree with everything he says, replying occasionally with “I know” and “I get it”. 

“Goddamn fool! Don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground!” shouts Arthur, waving his arms around.

“I know,” you reply calmly as you rub your hand along Blue’s nose and face. The horse nickers softly and nudges into you, like a cat purring in your hands as you watch Arthur pace back and forth in frustration like a wild animal in a cage. 

“And Dutch is gonna go along with it?! Just like that?” He flashes his intense blue eyes at you. 

“I know, it’s crazy,” you shake your head at him.

“Are they even thinkin’ ‘bout the rest o’ us?”

You just shrug. “I don’t get it, either,” you say calmly.

Arthur momentarily stops in his ranting and looks at you, finally taking a moment to breathe. Why you are not as heated as he is is beyond him. “Is that all you’re gonna say?” 

“Well, I figured I’d let you carry-on and wear yourself out and when it’s my turn to yell, you just point and then I’ll go.” You cross your arms over your chest and give him a little smirk. 

But Arthur’s face holds anything but amusement, as he firmly plants his hands on his hips in frustration. “I ain't in the mood for jokes, (Y/N),” he grits out slowly. 

A grin creeps its way across your face. “I bet I could get you to laugh.” 

“I doubt it,” he grumbles with a slight eye roll.

Squinting slightly in challenge with a teasing look, you walk over to him, placing your hands on his ribs before letting them slowly drift down to his waist. He raises an eyebrow at you but is quickly disappointed when your hands divert from his waistline to reach into his satchel and dig around until you pull out his leather gloves. Confused, Arthur’s eyes follow you as you saunter over to Blue and step up towards his great head, stopping to place each glove over one of the horse’s ears. As your horse twitches his ears, the gloves appear to be hands waving back and forth at you. 

“Huh…Huh?” You point at Blue, a huge grin erupting over your face, clearly pleased with yourself and your childish little distraction. 

Arthur just stares at you blankly, totally taken aback at your adolescent behavior. “You’re ridiculous,” he snorts with an eye roll to the heavens.

“Oh, come on, that’s funny and you know it!” you snicker, hugging Blue’s neck affectionately. 

Arthur rolls his eyes skyward once more, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head at your nonsense as he finally ambles over to you. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he huffs. 

Knowing he’s been beaten, Arthur sighs with resignation, wrapping you up against his barrel chest and bear-hugging you tightly. Your glittering laugh gets muffled by his chest as your arms hook under his to return his embrace. Arthur pulls back for a moment, collecting your happy little face into his giant hands, and looks down at you. But all he can do is shake his head once more before hugging you again, placing his chin atop of your head. 

Amazingly, you were right: he has forgotten all about Micah Bell. 

Later, after you’ve gotten Arthur to calm down enough to safely be around other people again, the two of you are tucked away in his tent. He sits on the cot, scribbling something in his journal, as you stand in front of his shaving mirror, unpinning your hair and getting ready to retire for the evening. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I found something for you!” Your face lights up with excitement as you spin around back to his table and pick up one of the items sitting there. You eagerly shove a small aluminum tin into his face, hardly able to contain yourself. Arthur peers inside, curious what it is that has you so worked up. 

“Cherries?” he questions, surprised to see the little jeweled fruit inside. 

“Yeah! I found a cherry tree that the birds hadn’t gotten into yet, so I picked some for you. I remember you telling me that your mother used to make cherry cobbler for you as a kid. So I was going to try and make you some.” You look down at the tin of deep red fruit, shaking it a bit and watching them roll about. “I’ll have to mix these with some that we’ve jarred up, so it probably won’t be as good as hers,” you admit, mouth twisting a bit in disappointment, “but we’ll see.” You look back at him with a simple smile and shrug before turning to set the tin back down on the table. 

Arthur stares at you, thinking back to the other night at the fire when you whispered those lovely little words to him. His mind rolls over how you treat him, how you care for him, how you’ve made him your focus like no one ever has before. 

“Hey, you”, he mutters softly. 

You lift your face back to him, eyebrows arched awaiting him to continue. “Hmm?” 

The outlaw reaches out with his calloused hand and gently wraps it around your bicep, pulling you over to him. You stand between Arthur’s knees as he holds your hips and stares up at your angelic face. You lean over and kiss his forehead, his eyes fluttering closed as you run your fingers through his hair. After a moment, his eyes slowly open again, drinking you in. And Arthur realizes as he stares into your beautiful eyes that he has fallen in love with all of the millions of simple little things that you do, things that you do all of the time, and don’t even realize you’re doing them. 

“I love you, (Y/N).” 

You smile brightly down at him as his gravelly voice utters those amazing words so softly from his lips. You observe the seriousness in his face, so earnest in his declaration, as if he is trying to convince you of it. Arthur waits for your reply, hoping he hasn’t taken too long to tell you, fearing you’ve had second thoughts. 

After a brief moment you lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose. “I know,” you whisper, raising an eyebrow with that smart look you get. 

“I mean it”, he insists. “I never wanted more ‘til I had you. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” His hands grasp a bit tighter as if he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him. “I suppose I was just too afraid to let myself go there again.” 

“It’s not love that you’re afraid of, Arthur. It’s that the next person that you love will be like the person who left you broken.” You cup your hands around his face, your thumbs drawing against the weathered skin of his cheeks. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows crease even further, that shadow of worry cascading over his face again. “(Y/N), I can’t give you the life you want, the life that you deserve.” 

“Are we doing this again?” you ask with a tinge of admonishment. “Arthur, I don't want someone who will promise me the world. I want someone who will hold me when I need it; who will bring me coffee in the morning; who will pull the blanket over me on cold nights when I’m sleeping. I want someone who will love me the same as I love them: madly, uncontrollably, inconveniently, and, yeah, maybe even foolishly.” A bright smile illuminates your face. “And I think you’re just the fool I’ve been waiting for.”

This makes a small chuckle break from his stern face as he shakes his head.

You pull his stubbled face in closer to yours. “I don’t care how complicated this gets, Arthur. I still want you.”

He lifts his hands from your hips and wraps them around your wrists as you continue to hold his face. “Maybe I’m afraid because you mean more to me than anyone ever has. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, and you won’t mess it up, Arthur.”

You watch the idea of it settle over Arthur, wrapping him up like a warm blanket and just as comforting as one, too. The tension in his shoulders ebbs away and his eyes soften and twinkle, making them rival the bluest ocean. 

He smiles up at you again. “Say it.” 

“What?”

“Say it again for me, would ya? Say you love me.” Arthur beams up at you as he wraps his arms completely around your hips, pulling you in and holding you tightly.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than you can ever know or even comprehend.” You lean your face in close again, hovering sweetly over his. “We can do this, Arthur. I promise.” 

“Yeah, we can.”

—--------------------

The next day, Arthur, Charles and Javier have gone into town to get more supplies and stop for a round of poker and a quick drink. A quick drink soon turns into many. And many drinks turns into an argument with the locals. One that ends with the boys coming home victorious, but pretty banged up. Even as drunk as they were, the Van Der Linde gang is not a group of men to be messed with. 

Charles and Javier come back with mostly superficial wounds, black eyes and bruised ribs. Arthur, of course, always seems to carry the brunt of the trauma in these situations. If he’s not taking on the largest brawler, he’s dealing with more than one man at a time. Either way, Arthur is always the one to come home more torn up than the others.

But thankfully, you now have Arthur safely in your med tent, stitching up a shallow knife laceration in his side as he sits quiet and guilty. Arthur sheepishly avoids your eyes, as you are unusually silent about the situation, a clear indication that you are not happy about it. You tug on the thread of his stitches a little too aggressively as short huffs emanate from your nose in frustration.

“What if you get tired of this?” Arthur grumbles as he watches how you carefully pull the thread through his red and inflamed skin, wincing slightly as the needle pushes into his flesh over and over again. 

“Of what? Patching holes in you that you get from being reckless and stupid? Or seeing you without your shirt on? Because those are two totally different things,” you quip as your eyes briefly dart up to meet his before going back to your handiwork.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I do hate seeing you all busted up and bleeding,” you frown. Your delicate fingers dance across the damaged skin, deftly folding the thread around your fingertips with expert precision.

“It ain’t so bad. If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy’s knuckles,” Arthur jokes.

“Funny,” you deadpan.

“You ain’t the only one who’s funny, you know.” He pokes his long finger into your ribs in jest, making you squirm as you try to keep your hands steady.

“Point taken.” You continue to fuss, cleaning his wound and scrutinizing the stitchwork. “I will always take care of you, Arthur. I promise.” 

“And I will always be reckless and stupid,” he snickers. 

An exasperated sigh escapes you. “That wasn’t the point.” 

“Nope, can’t go back on your promise now,” he gloats.

—--------------------------------

You wake in the middle of the night in your tent, cold and lonely. Arthur was still out of camp when you went to bed tonight, but you miss him terribly. Sometimes when you are separated, you get this overwhelming feeling of emptiness without him. Maybe it is the ever-impending threat of danger that you live in. Or maybe it is that you just love him so much that it hurts to be apart. 

Still half asleep, you meander out of your tent and quietly pad over to Arthur’s, hoping to find him there. When you get to his tent and pull back the opening, you find him asleep on his cot. He still has his boots on, too, which means he came home and just plopped down and passed out. (Usually he will stop by your tent upon returning to camp, but you figure he was either too tired or didn’t want to disturb you.)

You smile with a great sense of relief and slip inside the tent, affixing the tent door down behind you again in privacy. You tiptoe over to the cot and carefully crawl onto the bedding. You snuggle-up next to Arthur’s side, lifting his arm and wrapping it around yourself as you rest your head on his chest. Once settled, you breathe out a sigh of contentment, nuzzling your face into his chest and eager to feel the warmth that radiates off of him. Within moments, you are back asleep, tucked safely under Arthur’s arm.

But while you fall back to sleep, Arthur is awake for the next hour that follows. He stirs at the feeling of your delicate hand around his wrist when you settle in next to him, but he has a hard time going back to sleep now. As you lay there together, Arthur listens to your peaceful breathing and inhales your flowery scent. He relishes the feeling of your weight on his chest and your feline-like body up against him. As he lays in the soothing darkness, his gaze lands on your gently sleeping form laying upon him. He observes how your chest steadily rises and falls with each delicate breath. He notices how you have carefully entwined your leg around his own, and your fingers gracefully splay across his beating heart. Arthur realizes that he has in his grasp what he’s always wanted:  someone to come home to, someone waiting for just him. And he doesn’t want to miss a single moment that he gets to hold you like this. 

When Arthur eventually shifts his weight, it causes you to stir from your comforted slumber. A large and deep yawn escapes you as you roll your eyes up to meet his blue orbs gazing down at you. A sleepy grin blooms across your face when you see that he is awake. 

Arthur softly runs the back of his dirt-stained knuckles against your cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s alright. I should probably be getting up anyway.” You sigh with a slight pang of disappointment as you roll yourself up and stand off the cot. 

“Aw c’mon, stay with me,” Arthur whines, catching your hand and holding it tightly. 

“All night?”

“Yeah, all night,” he insists. “It ain’t like people don’t know what we’re up to in here. And either way, it’s none of their business anyway.” He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he continues to hold yours, playing with your fingers and drawing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Do you really want to roll over and wake up with my face smashed into yours?” you tease.

“More than anything.” Arthur tugs you back down to him and kisses the corner of your eye, making you giggle. ”I’ll make it worth your while,” he utters out in a sultry tone, causing your knees to go weak. Your only response is a flutter of your eyelashes and a deep kiss to his pillowy lips as you climb back onto his cot. 

Arthur shifts his body and wraps his muscled arm around you to usher you back down, pinning you under him. A quiet hum escapes into the quiet, still air as he quickly deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing past your sweet lips. You hungrily reciprocate his affection, your hand gliding from his cheek to the back of his head as your fingers card through his hair. The feeling of your fingernails gently scraping along his scalp sends shivers throughout his whole tired body. Slowly, your knee bends, rubbing your leg against his much larger frame, indicating that you want more. 

Arthur’s hand roams freely and greedily over your sumptuous body as his palm firmly clamps over your breast, massaging the tender flesh before his mouth encompasses it over the thin cotton of your nightgown. Your chin floats back at the feeling of him touching you, your mind already lost in an incoherent fog. He works his way from your breast to your sternum, and proceeds to leave a trail of kisses and caresses down your figure. And as things go, your heat begins to tingle and ache with dire need. The anticipation is wreaking havoc with you, drawing soft whines and moans from your throat. 

The delicious sounds emanating from you set Arthur ablaze inside. He quickly sits up onto his knees as he begins to impatiently pull at your nightgown. But instead of just pushing it up, he yanks the obstructing article up and over your head. With the top half of your body exposed, Arthur makes quick work of your bloomers, folding your legs up in front of him so he can work the fabric down your lovely calves and over your feet. 

You are now completely bare to him, your large, shining eyes staring up at him as he looms over you like a predator. Arthur’s own eyes are filled with a divine mixture of love and lust, just for you. Your arms stretch out to him as a silent plea for him to continue. With a smirk, Arthur is quick to pull his shirt over his head and undo the buttons of his trousers and union suit underneath. You reach up and clumsily tug at the sleeves of his undergarment, exposing his chest to the cold night air. He has no time to strip himself down completely, as once his hard cock springs free from its confines, it is very clear he is ready to get things moving along. 

Arthur covers your body with his own once more, slowly rocking back and forth with a hypnotic motion. Your leg snakes around his backside in response, your heel digging into his thigh. Hot, steamy breaths cover each other’s faces from the barrage of wet heated kisses as the intimacy quickly escalates. Arthur’s hand drifts down between your two bodies to seek out your tender folds. A sharp moan jumps from your lips as the pads of his fingers sublimely rake across the delicate skin between your legs and your pelvis jerks up to grind against his palm. 

“Christ Almighty,” Arthur pants with his lips crushed against your temple.

“I know”, you sigh in agreement. 

A deep and guttural groan erupts from his chest, filled with want and desire for you. Feeling how your slick coats his fingers already, Arthur reluctantly withdraws his fingers to give himself a few quick pumps of his cock, using your wetness to lubricate himself. He rolls his hips to align his large body at your entrance, looking down at where your hips conjoin. Your hands find their way under his arms and grasp tightly to the flesh of his back, urging him to move forward and to do it quickly. Arthur’s chin lifts to meet your gaze, finding your mouth gaped and eyes heavy-lidded with wondrous longing as his name falls as a whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

He hastily pushes himself into you, his usual slow and careful pace forgotten about. The feeling of his thick cock being roughly shoved into you makes you cry out, but you are quickly muffled with his scorching mouth over top of yours. Arthur is quick to start a fast pace, as his hips snap sharply into yours, rutting deeply into your core. The velvety walls of your cunt flutter tightly around him when you feel his length twitching inside you. The grinding is euphoric, sending waves of pleasure shooting throughout your bodies. The way the two of you sync up in the throws of passion is glorious, transcending any pleasure either of you have ever known. 

Arthur proceeds to sit back up onto his knees so he can fully take in the vision of you, your body shuddering beneath him from his force. The cot creaks beneath you as the very strength of its joints is being tested. He wraps his hands around your soft thighs for leverage as he observes how his cock glides in and out of you. Your back lifts off of the cot, arching to angle your pelvis towards him, eager for him to fill you even more, if that is even possible. Your hands seek out his thick wrists, slightly pulling yourself towards him to match his motion. When your head drops back against the canvas of the cot again, Arthur immediately falls forward to suck on your exposed jugular, leaving slight bite marks that pinch your overly sensitive skin. 

“You are so fucking amazing,” he garbles into your skin. “I don’t ever want to leave this tent.”

His burly body covers yours once again, encasing you under his muscled limbs as his arm snakes around your head, his face tucked tightly into your neck. 

“Then we won’t,” you whisper. You turn your face towards his, your bottom teeth dragging across the plump skin of his earlobe, your panting hissing in his ear as he continues to rock into you. You can taste the saltiness of his skin and the faint notes of earthy musk from being out all day in the elements as your tongue flicks at the bare skin of his shoulder as you attempt to muffle your moans into the muscle there. Your whole naked body feels as if it’s on fire with every inch of it touching him right now. The sound of your beloved outlaw grunting lustfully into your ear erases any and all other outside distractions or thoughts. And as his torso lurches back and forth over you, you feel that oh-so lovely lightning barrling its way towards your climax. 

“Whatever you do, don’t stop now,” you whine. Your arms encircle Arthur even tighter as you await that rapturous feeling that you know is coming. 

As usual, your whole body clamps down around him when your climax hits. Your wanton squeaks and moans are a bewitching melody in Arthur’s mind. The already-tight walls of your cunt restrict around his hefty cock, drawing out a brief whimper from him, pushing him to his own orgasm as he pulls himself out of you and rubs himself against your stomach in search of that friction needed to finish. 

Arthur instinctively clutches you to himself when he climaxes with an almost bone-crushing pressure. You tremble slightly, more from the overstimulation than from the damp night air encompassing you. You curl up into him, clinging desperately to his frame. Your fingertips dig into the valley of his spine, the soft chestnut colored hair that decorates his back sticking to his skin with a thin layer of sweat. The two of you have been together quite a few times by now, but every damn time it is exquisite, just as if it was the first time all over again.

The feeling of Arthur’s chest rapidly rising and falling beneath your arms mesmerizes you as you feel the very life of him coursing through your hands while you lay there wrapped up in each other. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek as you nestle your face into that coveted space where his massive shoulder and neck meet. The weight of Arthur on top of you is so comforting. Where some may consider Arthur’s sheer bulk smothering, you find it calming. You wonder how he could ever think you are not safe when you’re with him, as that is always where you feel the most secure.

Your hips are always a bit sore after making love to Arthur, not used to opening up so wide to accommodate such a large man, but you snicker as you tell yourself that you’ll just have to do it more often to get used to it. The more you are together, the more comfortable and relaxed you become, giving in to the sweet intoxicating feeling of the other. The societal shame and guilt that often gets attributed to the act of sex have long been discarded. You two are no longer self conscious about being too loud, and are no longer hiding your bodies from each other in fear of rejection. Playful giggles of excitement, needy and eager hands, and exploratory kisses are the norm for you two now. 

Both fully expended and exhausted, Arthur hands you one of his towels to clean your stomach of his pearly spend that scatters across your skin. Once you toss the soiled linen to the side, Arthur shifts his body lower so he can lay his head onto your chest and pulls his blanket up and over the two of you. Your lips lay against the crown of his head as you play with the thick waves of hair while your fingertips drag along his forearm that tightly holds you to him. And within moments, you are both fast asleep again. 

—---------------------------------------------

After breakfast, you finish washing up the last of the dirty dishes, drying your hands on your short apron as you head over to the horses to give them the vegetable scraps. Arthur is already over there, throwing down some grain and fresh water for the lot. He catches your eye as you approach, giving you a smile and nod as you return his gaze with a blushing grin, the memory of last night still fresh in your mind as well as between your thighs. 

Arthur watches you as you toss the greens into the horses’ buckets, laughing lightly as they push each other to get to you. “Alright, piglets, hold on. There’s enough to go around.” You lovingly pat Taimia on the neck, as she is the best behaved out of all of these “spoiled children”. Arthur draws on the cigarette that hangs from his mouth, his eyes hovering over you. He squints slightly as he fidgets with the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, his thoughts kicking around in his head since last night.

“Hey, so I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’...” he starts nervously, his voice hesitant as he tosses the butt into the grass. 

You look over your shoulder back to Arthur as you try to keep Blue from nipping at your pockets, looking for treats. “Yeah?”

 “When we setup the new camp in a few days, what if you put your things in my tent?” He averts his gaze from yours for a second, unsure of how you will react to his suggestion.

But you simply give him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Arthur takes a tentative breath before he elaborates. “You know, move your things over and, um…stay there.”

It takes a moment to register, but the idea of it causes a huge smile to slowly spread across your face from ear to ear. “Arthur Morgan, are you asking me to share your tent with you?” Your cheeks flush like a brilliant rose and you nibble your bottom lip with excitement.

Arthur reciprocates with a big grin of his own. “I kinda like the idea of waking up next to you every mornin’.” He swaggers over closer to you. “Although you do snore, though.”

“I do not!” you exclaim in playful offense, your hands planting onto your hips.

“Yeah, you do. It’s cute, though,” he snickers. “Like a cat meowing.” He proceeds to imitate a snore/meow sound as he pulls you to him by your waist. 

You slap his arm as you playfully scowl at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Arthur arches an eyebrow at you as he ducks his head to kiss under your jawline. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” smirking as you roll your eyes. “I'm kind of already invested in you and all.”

“It kinda works out nice that way. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Your effervescent giggle makes Arthur’s heart melt. “I’ll take that deal.”

Arthur cups his hand around your cheek, his thumb pushing your chin up so he can look into your glittering eyes. “I’ll ride with you through all the bullshit, Y/N, just as long as you don’t bullshit me. Fair?”

Your delicate hands run up his chest and push over his strong shoulders where your fingers lace together behind his neck. “I can only make you two promises, Arthur:  That I will never hurt you in the way that I, myself, have been hurt, and that I will love you in the ways that you, yourself, have never been loved.” 

You stare into those sapphire eyes of his, trying not to get distracted by the full-range of emotions he has dammed up behind them, emotions that you have only just begun to unleash. “I don't want to just be with you, Arthur. I want to live and love with you. I want to experience every single thing, stupid or great, that our time on this Earth is willing to give us together.” 

A deep and relaxing breath is pulled into Arthur’s lungs and released, taking with it any of the anxiety and doubt that he’s been fostering over this new thing, this new beginning that you have gifted him and that he cannot wait to start.

“Just be with me now and we’ll figure out the details later, I suppose,” he hums. He leans down to catch the rose petals of your lips into a delicate kiss. Your eyes float close and you smile into his mouth. The kiss is not too short, nor too long, but just perfect, as it carries all of the affection you both hold within it.

Arthur pulls back from you, and cradles your face in both of his large hands, staring down at your happy, sparkling expression. 

“In my life full of wrongs, Y/N,  you’re the thing that’s right in it. And I don’t want to miss a minute of it.” 

[niki-phoria]

adding him to my list of men who are WAY too old for me that i simp for anyways he's at least twice my age skeoneo

pairing: leon x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff/comfort word count: 735

warnings: blood, mentions of stitches, mention of guns/shooting, probably ooc leon

includes: kinda friends to lovers, had an idea of helping leon when gets hurt and RAN with it lmao

summary: taking care of leon when he gets hurt

a/n: i am 20 mins into re4 but i'm gonna post this anyways pls be nice if he's totally ooc dskdlns

requests open !! read my rules first

“leon!” the man grunts, pressing a hand against the wound in his side. despite the searing pain immediately burning through his body he’s quick to react; raising his gun once again and firing off a few more shots. 

“i’m alright!” you ignore the underlying message of his words as you force your way through the hoard over to him. his protests die on his tongue when you wrap your arm around his waist, leading him along with you as you run out of the building. 

the adrenaline coursing through your body overpowers your worry until you’re surrounded by the tranquil noise of crickets chirping and a small breeze rustling the trees. in the newfound calm, you force leon to sit down against the wall in an abandoned shelter. it’s stuffy - you nearly choke on the dust when the door swings open and grime coats nearly everything left inside - but it’s enough.

without the immediate threat to both of your lives, all of the protests return to leon’s mind. “i’m fine.” 

“you’re not,” you force him back down, gently pushing him so he’s in a more comfortable position. “or you won’t be if you don’t let me help you.” 

“y/n-” 

“leon,” you take a shaky breath to force the air back into your lungs. it does little to calm you, but you know he appreciates your attempt anyway. “you got hurt. you need help. please, let me help you.” 

“okay,” he whispers. 

you nod. “okay.” 

your hands tremble slightly as you push his shirt up, exposing the full extent of the injury. it’s a deep laceration in his left side - something that definitely needs stitches. your breath hitches a little as his blood coats your hands. 

you scramble to grab a spare towel, coating it in alcohol in a poor attempt to sterilize the wound. you hesitate for a second before leon reaches over to grab your hand. “do it.” 

with his conformation, you shakily press the towel down. he grunts as you press it against his side. 

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. he shakes his head, letting you clean his cut as best as you can. he winces a little when you replace his hand with gauze, though he doesn’t say anything. 

“you need stitches,” you murmur, reaching over to tug your bag close enough for you to fish out a bandage and enough supplies to treat leon as best as you can. your nerves only increase as the blood continues to seep through the gauze. 

“hey,” he reaches up, tilting your face so you aren’t staring down at the bloody wound. “it’ll be okay. i trust you.” 

“okay.” your touch is gentle against his side. “this will hurt. i’m sorry.” leon takes a sharp intake of breath as soon as you begin. his hands clench at his sides as you continue. “i’m sorry,” you repeat the words like a mantra; as if apologizing will make up for the pain you know leon is feeling alone. 

he sighs soon as you finish, quickly pulling away and pressing a bandage against the area. you can see the way his shoulders relax when you pull away. you wipe the blood on your hands off on a nearby towel before doing your best to clean leon up. it doesn’t do much, but it’s a comfort in the circumstances. 

“thank you,” he whispers. you look over at him, silently watching as he reaches over to grab your hand. you intertwine your fingers together as leon gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “for helping me.” 

“of course.” you let your head lull onto his shoulder. “i love you.” 

leon turns to look at you as you continue to stare straight ahead at the dirty wall in front of you.“you do?” 

“...i do.” 

he reaches over, coaxing you even closer to press a kiss against your forehead. “i love you too.” 

“you do?” leon chuckles as you move to look up at him. 

“i do.” 

you fall back into silence, though this time there’s no lingering anxiety or fear in the quiet. leon’s hand feels warm in yours. he feels comforting next to you. even when your hands grow clammy from the prolonged contact. even when the temperature drops further as the night progresses. especially when you shift even closer to lean your head against his chest, letting his heartbeat lull you into a comfortable sleep.

[foreverdolly]

𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑(𝐩𝐭 𝟏)| 𝟗𝟎𝐬!𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: your love life has been tragic to say the least, so after a rather public breakup you decide that you're done with bad boys. elvis is the lead singer of a well known and well loved metal band. he lives a hard and fast lifestyle and wouldn't dream of ever apologizing for it. the one thing that nobody would ever expect from a rough-around-the-edges kinda guy like elvis is the fact that the man is a hopeless romantic. and he's got his sights set on you. elvis presley was precisely the kind of person you were trying to avoid. you couldn't let him weasel his way into your life. . . . right?

warning/notes: SMUT! ahead, this thing is going to be dirty dirty so prepare yourselves, drug and alcohol use. you're seriously a sex symbol and everyone is obsessed with you. . . including me. elvis is an actual simp in this fic, but what's new with my writing? this fic does take place in the 90's. . . so just imagine 60's elvis throughout this fic, because that's exactly what i was doing. | this is part one of a three part mini series. i will be posting all three parts this week, so you will not have to wait a million years to be able to finish it. please please please heart this post, repost it and tell me what you think about it. i love interaction, and this is my first time posting in ages. i'm a little nervous about it.

word count: 5.3k

masterlist | requests are currently closed !

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The bar was hazy with thick cigarette smoke, but there was something special about the way that the neon lights shone through the fog that hung above the mass of grinding bodies. The music pounded away in your ears, and after the round of mixed drinks that you had downed with your group of friends, you couldn’t help but sway your body along with the beat. In a packed bar like this, where everybody was too drunk to notice or too high to care, you were just another somebody. 

That was the draw to nightlife for you. It was a small reprieve, and maybe it made you a bit sick in the head, but you cherished it. No matter how self absorbed and ungrateful it sounded, you missed the days of feeling like a normal person. You missed being able to leave your house in a ratty old t-shirt and shorts without the fear of being plastered all over the front of a gossip magazine looming above your head. You missed going to the grocery store and taking your sweet time perusing the aisles. You missed the way your life had been before the organized chaos. 

People have always paid extra attention to you. You had been the butt of many jokes during your early days in middle school. You were the ugly duckling- nothing but a scrawny little girl that came from an impoverished family. The year you turned thirteen everything changed though. Puberty had hit you like a freight train. Your curves had filled out and your face had lost all of its baby fat. In the blink of an eye all of the girls wanted to be your friends, and the boys that used to tease you were now trying their hardest to get your attention. 

You only got prettier as time went on it would seem. People stopped caring about the unfortunate state of your home life all together, instead focusing on your looks and likeability. School was no longer hell from you, and you entirely had your appearance to thank for it. Becoming a model had happened just as quickly. 

You had been on a date with an ex when you had first been discovered. You remembered that day vividly: the nasty fight during the car ride to the stadium, the overpriced beers as well as the crippling fear that you were allowing a man to emotionally beat you down. You had somehow ended up on the jumbotron, and all you could do was awkwardly smile and wave- blow a few kisses at the camera when it lingered on your face for a little too long. You had laughed it off, assuring your at-the-time boyfriend that it had been some sort of a coincidence. He had been the jealous and possessive sort. A man that worked in the marketing department of one of your state’s favorite beer companies saw you holding the bottle in your hand on the big screen, and the rest was history. 

You felt blessed for your booming career and all of the attention that you had garnered over the last few years, but a part of you missed the days where you could go outside without cameras flashing or people asking something of you. Everybody always wanted something from you. Be it a simple picture, a signature or even a smile- at this point there wasn’t a part of you not owned or wanted by the public. Even other celebrities had an ulterior motive for trying to connect with you. You’d learned your lesson though. Dating was officially off the table. Well. . . dating celebrities, at least. 

“I’m being serious this time, guys.” You tried to reason with your friends, reaching up to tangle your long manicured fingers into your messy updo. “Bad boys are out.” You seriously believed it this time too. No matter how hot, famous or rich you were, men were always going to be trash.

You had always been the type of girlfriend that went out of her way to take care of their partner. You hated drama, so starting unnecessary fights was beneath you. You were trusting to a fault, which had gotten you into trouble more than a handful of times. You had a big heart, and despite the constant disappointments you still believed in true love. You had finally come to the conclusion that the problem was never you. It had always been them. You were self aware enough to know that you had a bit of a. . .type. 

“Bad boys” only wanted one thing from you though. 

They just wanted sex. It had always been that way, even since high school. As much as you hated to admit it, you had never been in a stable relationship, even in the early years of your life before the tabloids kept tabs on your every move. 

You loved sex, but it never led to anything good. The most you got out of it in most cases was nothing but momentary, fleeting satisfaction that only left you feeling more empty than you had been before. You were done with being used to beef up somebody's ego only to be discarded like garbage soon after. 

Your close friend, Veronica, was quick to throw her arm around you, pressing your frame tightly into her side. “We need to find you someone nerdy. Like. . . like an accountant or something.” She snapped her fingers excitedly as though she had just solved world hunger. 

You let out a small squeal, leaning your head back to laugh without restraint. In your inner circle on a night like this? Things seemed to just. . . fall into place. You were happy- obnoxiously so- and you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else. You were sick and tired of crying over men that didn’t care about you. Especially ones that didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt for them. All that mattered now was the fact that they were playing remixes of all your favorite songs at this particular club and that you had just gotten your nails freshly painted earlier in the day. Your dress fit you like a glove, you were actually having a good hair day without the help of a stylist and the people that you had surrounded yourself with loved you like family. This was your element.

The drinks were flowing, your heart was happy, and you were tired of moping around and feeling bad for yourself. 

An accountant was exactly what you needed. 

“You’re so right! I need a sweet little accountant that I can come home to at the end of a long day. That sounds perfect to me. I need a man that lives a boring life and is more than willing to take time out of his not-so hectic life for me.” You agreed, pressing your cheek against your friend’s in a display of affection before grabbing your drink off of the table. “A toast! To. . .,” You bit your plush bottom lip as you tried to think of the best way to word what it was that you were looking for in a man. “To good guys.” 

“To good guys!” They all chimed after you. 

Your friends were all quick to clink their glasses against yours, happily joining you in downing the rest of their brightly colored glasses of alcohol. 

“Excuse me!” You called out to one of the waitstaff, flagging her down with a wide dazzling smile. 

The scantily dressed woman was quick to make her way over to your marked off section. The owner of the club insisted on putting you and your friends in VIP for ‘your safety’, though you were starting to think that all it was doing was drawing more attention towards your area. The younger woman smiled sweetly back at you, though you weren’t blind enough to not see the way that her fingers were anxiously twitching at her sides. A-list celebrities didn’t frequent clubs like this, so you were sure that she was probably scared out of her mind to do something wrong and incur your (nonexistent) wrath.  

“W-What can I help you with?” What little confidence she had earlier was faltering now as she got closer and closer to you. 

“I want to buy every person in this club a shot of tequila! Top shelf, please. We’re celebrating!” Tonight you were in an especially good mood considering your recent split with your heartthrob co-star. You were finally starting to feel better about it, which was a good sign that you were moving on. 

You and your group’s shots arrived first, but within seconds tray after tray of plastic cups began circulating the bar. You were quick to cheers your friends once again, swallowing back the clear liquor. You had imbibed in a fair bit of alcohol already, so the burning sensation wasn’t as bad as it had been towards the beginning of your girls night out. Despite the slightly numb lips and hazy expression, you didn’t sway once in your heels as you continued to sway along to the beat of the music. You danced like nobody was watching, but little did you know that a certain blue eyed musician had his eye on you from across the club. 

“Compliments of (F/N) (L/N).” The waitress motioned to the tray that she was holding up in front of the brunette’s face. 

For a second all he could do was stare at the drinks, drunkenly trying to remember whether or not he ordered anything. His eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise as the woman’s words finally began to register. Wait a minute. . . who bought him a shot? The name sounded awfully familiar, so he must know the woman somehow. His rings glinted under the colored lights as he reached for the cup, the leggy blonde that had been keeping him company that night following suit. 

“Who?” He asked dumbly, squinting his eyes to follow the direction that the waitress had pointed in. 

“(F/N) (L/N). She’s an actress and model? She bought every-” And before the woman could let Elvis know that you had bought everyone in the entire club a shot he was already throwing the tequila back, tossing the plastic drunkenly back onto the table before pushing the blonde woman’s arm off from around him as though her touch burned him. 

Because he had recognized you the second that he saw you, even from across the bar. You were prettier in person than you were on camera, which was rare in Los Angeles. 

The woman that had once been keeping him company gaped up at the musician, her cheeks darkening with embarrassment as she realized that she was actively being ditched for another woman. In front of everybody that she had come to the club with. 

“Fuck you, Presley!” She screamed after him, but the curse fell on deaf ears as he wove his way in between the writhing, sweaty bodies of dancing patrons. 

He had his eyes glued on one person and one person only. Never in his life had he seen a woman that beautiful before- and Elvis had seen, kissed and fucked his fair share of hot women. He remembered exactly why your name sounded so familiar to him. You weren’t some chick whose feelings he had hurt or someone that his music label had asked him to play nice with. 

You were a fuckin’ Playboy Bunny. 

Your group of friends had stopped talking and had all turned to face him as he approached, their eyebrows knitted together as they tried to figure out exactly who he was and why he was there. Tall and lean, heavily tattooed with dark hair and blue eyes as bright as the morning sky. One by one he watched their expressions shift into recognition. Elvis lifted up a long leg, easily stepping over the velvet rope that had been put up around your section. 

All you could do was watch, wondering exactly why Elvis Presley was approaching you with a smirk on his face. Was there something that you might have missed? You’d never met the man before in your life. You would have definitely remembered if you had. 

He was clad in a black pair of jeans and a white tank top that fit snug enough to show off his nipple piercings. His thick gold necklaces caught the light as he bent down to shorten his frame, smiling directly at you. It was like the two of you were the only ones in the bar. His attention was perfectly undivided. His black hair hung loose in his eyes, undone from its usual updo that he had sported in all of the pictures you’d seen of him in the past. You had to admit though. . . there was something more dangerous about this version of Elvis. He seemed more wild and relaxed. More himself and less of the showman. It made your heart race, and admittedly kept you from shooing him off in the opposite direction. 

Not even ten minutes ago you had sworn off bad boys, and yet here you were, watching with wide eyes as one sauntered right up to you. 

His black boots stopped to rest right in front of your heeled feet, and he took his time looking you up and down, wanting you to see his approval. He wanted you to know just how irresistible he found you. In a club as loud as this one was, you had to learn how to communicate with your body. 

Elvis had been raised in the south by a Christian family, but that didn’t mean that he was always a gentleman. He was far too drunk for that. So instead of thanking you for the shot or trying his hand at flirting with you, he plopped down in the spot beside you and leaned over. 

Your jaw went slack as you felt his warm tongue trail all the way up from the sensitive pulsepoint at your neck to your temple. His nose brushed against your hair as his warm breath fanned over your ear. You could hear his heady breath, and it lit a fire inside of you. Rather than being outraged you found yourself clamping your thighs together in the hopes of creating some sort of friction. He pulled back only to smile drunkenly at you, drumming his tattooed hands against his seat as he waited for your reaction.

He watched you all while knowing that you had to have felt something. Your breath had caught at the sudden action, and he knew it. He saw the adorable flush to your cheeks and the glint in your glassy eyes. A cocky, satisfied huff left him as he leaned back against the leather booth. You, of course, exceeded his expectations when you turned towards your friend and repeated the action. Your group, no matter how prissy they all looked, were all good sports. They howled and cackled as one by one they licked each other’s face, following your lead without question. 

“I’m Elvis.” He called over the music, watching as you gave him a knowing nod. 

You opened your mouth in order to introduce yourself only for him to hold his hand up, giving a dismissive flick of his wrist. “No need. I know who ya are.” He stated with an upturned lip.

His smile was nothing short of goofy, his blue eyes sweet as he looked over your face again and again, almost as though he was committing every detail to memory. There was something about him that just felt. . . different. It felt good. 

“Do ya wanna dance?” He nodded towards the packed dance floor, raising an eyebrow at you. 

Your best friend tensed behind you. “What happened to good boys being in?” She whispered in your ear, shooting you a pleading look. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, waving her off like it was no big deal. “This is just for tonight. We’re only going to dance, alright? Promise.” And with that you stood up, letting him take your hand and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you danced, only that you could feel long strands of your wavy hair clinging to the back of your arms after falling out from its’s updo. You were a drunken, sweaty mess and didn’t care one bit. All that mattered was that Elvis was making you laugh harder than you ever had before. His large hands felt too good on your hips as he swayed you back and forth, pressing you against his thigh. All you would have to do is arch your back just a fraction, and it would be your cunt that he would be leading you to grind against his thigh, not your hips. You should have hated yourself for the thought, but you were too far gone. All you knew was that he was handsome and was looking down at you as though you hung the moon. 

He was so big and warm. Domineering in a kind of way that let you know he would be able to take care of you in the exact way that you preferred. 

Your fingers gently traced a few of the tattoos on his arms as you continued to sway back and forth, eying the colorful, sweaty skin as he continued to wrap himself around you. He smelled like expensive cologne and warm skin- and it took every last shred of self restraint that you had in your body not to bury your nose into his chest and inhale. Being around him was making you lose your mind.

The two of you only left the dance floor to down more drinks and get away from the loud speakers from time to time when you wanted to converse with each other. It was far too loud to have any sort of heart to hearts with him, but he went out of his way to show off his flashy personality to you. 

“I really have to go, Elvis. I’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow afternoon, which means I have to wake up early to pack.” You explained, stumbling outside so that you could wait for the cab that the bar had called for you. 

Elvis had been nice enough to offer to wait with you, not wanting any seedy characters to get any bad ideas. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, and you didn’t even want to think about the kind of people that might be lurking in the darkness. L.A was a terrifying place to be left alone in. Especially at night.

“The clubs not even closin’ yet though. Why don’t you wait for just one more hour?” He begged, his gold bracelet sliding down to his forearm as he clasped his hands together over his chest. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the dyed brunette eyeing the adorable way your nose scrunched up as you did so. Yeah. . . he was completely smitten. It was official. 

“I’m serious, Elvis. I have to get home.” You weren’t giving in, no matter how much you wanted to. 

Your friend's words were finally pounding their way back into your head, reminding you that the man in front of you would only break your heart and leave you to pick up the pieces afterwards. Casual sex used to be fun for you, but you were bored with the notion. What you were looking for was someone to settle down with. Elvis Presley definitely didn’t seem like the type. 

“Well where are you doin’ tomorrow? Maybe we can do somethin’ fun.” He needed to see you as soon as possible. He could tell that staying over at your place or vice versa was completely out of the question, so he didn’t even attempt to offer. You were worth the wait anyway, so he didn’t mind taking his time. He could tell that you were old school, and he respected it. 

This way of thinking was completely out of character for Elvis though. The reason why he wasn’t afraid to sleep around and forget about the women that he spent time with was because the two of you were very similar. The musician was a hopeless romantic, and wanted to fall in love more than he cared to ever say. 

If you weren’t in love then you weren’t alive. That was his way of thinking, at least. 

He wanted somebody to share his life with, but he hadn’t met the right person. He had tried his hand at long term relationships a couple of times, but women had a track record of breaking his heart. So he had gotten into the habit of being the break-er and not the break-ee. 

“I’m headed to Mexico for this business trip. If I show up with huge bags under my eyes my manager will not be happy.” You watched as he perked up, your eyebrows raising in confusion. 

“I love Mexico! Where exactly are you stayin’?” 

“Cacún. . .” You replied slowly, not exactly sure whether or not you wanted him to know. There was something about his reaction to the news that made you think that he might try and. . . - no. No way. No normal person- musician or not- would book a last minute flight just to spend more time with you. Stable people’s minds didn’t work like that. 

“Oh, that’s perfect. We’re goin’ to Cancún then.” No hesitation. 

You guffawed, blinking hard at him as you tried to figure out exactly how to handle this situation. You were used to men being forward with you, but this was on an entirely different level. 

“You’re not following me to Mexico,” You told him, reaching out to give his arm a small shake when you noticed the devious smile pulling up at his lips. “Elvis, I’m serious.” 

“Oh, I’m so comin’, no matter how much you beg.” 

The taxi pulled up to the curb before you could say anything else. With a loud sigh you opened the door for yourself, blurting out “no you’re not” as you closed the door soundly behind you. Before you could even blink the man was wrenching the other backdoor open, sliding his way inside. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. He had to be playing with you, because there was no way he could be serious. 

“Sir, please wait a minute. He’s not coming with me.” You told the taxi driver before turning to face the black haired man. “Elvis, you are not coming to Mexico. Okay? It’s something that I have to do for work. Now. . . can you please let me go home?” The alcohol was beginning to take its toll on you, and you felt exhausted. Your bed was practically calling out to you. So no matter how charismatic or handsome the singer was, you refused to let him come home with you.

“I’ll get out of the car if you do one thing for me.” 

You weren’t surprised when he asked for your number, and like an idiot you complied, writing the words “don’t call” right above your digits. 

It was only when he got out of the car with a wide smile on your face that you realized how torn you were. Part of you knew that he shouldn’t call, but a large chunk of you really wanted him to despite that fact. 

What you didn’t see was the way Elvis stared after the taxi until it had completely disappeared down the street, and then at the small scrap of paper in his hands. He gently traced his finger over your loopy, feminine handwriting. Eager to get home so that he could give you a lil ring. 

The phone had been ringing off the hook since ten o’clock that morning. One after the other, Elvis had left you voicemail after voicemail. You had half the mind to just rip out the cord and cut your losses, but knew that your manager would have no way to contact you if she needed to. So you put up with the inappropriate amount of calls. 

“Ya did buy me a shot of tequila last night, which I think has to be a sign that I’m supposed to go to Mexico with ya.” 

Beep. 

“Me and my band just finished recordin’ our album, which means that I have way too much time on my hands. Really, you would be doin’ me a damn favor if you let me go with you.” 

Beep. 

“Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley in Cancún. Elvis Presley and his weiner are fuckin’ comin’ to Cancún.” His singing echoed around the house. 

Beep. 

“Hola, mi amor-” 

Beep. 

“Cancún~,” You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay as you dragged your heavy silver suitcase down your stairs and up to the front door. “Cancú-” 

“Elvis.” 

“Darlin’!” He called out excitedly as you picked up the phone for the first time that entire morning. 

“Don’t. Come.” You tried using your stern voice, hoping he would finally take you seriously. 

A beat, and then came his answer. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin’.” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Don’t.” And with that you hung up, dragging your luggage out your front door and towards the waiting taxi. 

You should have been appalled, but how could you be? Because what if he really did show up? The thought of seeing him again made her palms go a bit sweaty. "U-Umm. . . You can just drop me off at the front. There's no need to try and park with all of that airport traffic."

“Are you looking for someone?” Your friend asked, standing up the tips of her toes so that she could shove her carry-on into the overhead compartment. 

You pushed the sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose, leaning further back into your seat as you watched the door to the plane like a hawk. You hated the fact that Veronica was so observant. Well. . . in this case, at least. She could read you like a book. She had already questioned you about last night until she was blue in the face, and the last thing you needed was for her to find out that there was a possibility that he might be following you all the way to Mexico. And why? You still had no clue. 

“Of course not. I’m just eager to lift off, is all. I’m hoping to take a little nap until we get there.” You hated lying more than anything, but you were willing to do anything to keep her from lecturing you. 

She meant well, and you loved her for that. You just couldn’t help but feel guilty for dancing with Elvis last night, even if it had meant absolutely nothing. It had to have meant absolutely nothing to you. The two of you hadn’t even kissed, which meant that you technically hadn’t gone back on your word. Good boys were in. And bad boys? 

They were out. 

The nicer beachside resorts loomed high above the bustling city, their sleek designs and gaudy terraces visible from the lower streets. You had decided to roll down the window of the car so that you could enjoy the warm night air. The smells, sounds, and sights were so different from those that you were used to in L.A. It was a nice change of pace, whether you were here for work purposes or not. All you had to do was play nice with a room full of rich old men and then you’d be in the clear. Your friend had excitedly made plans for the entire weekend, doing her fair share of research to make sure that the two of you had the best time. She’d even called your resort ahead of time so that she could know what kind of food they served. She had originally agreed to come with you right after your bad breakup to keep you company, but what had once been a means to look out for you and offer you support had quickly turned into her hatching a plan to keep your mind off of things. 

The fact that this trip also gave her a means to try and dissuade you from ever talking to Elvis again was just an added bonus. 

“Ronnie, have you ever seen something so beautiful? Look at that.” You pointed out the window, ushering her to lean closer against you so that she could see what you were seeing. 

A crowd of people were dancing amongst each other, string lights swaying softly in the oceanside breeze as they clapped joyously along with the music. You were a stickler for romance films. The cheesier, the better. It was almost as though you were watching one unfold right before your very eyes. 

You continued to point this way and that, your eyes wide as you tried to fully bask in the city all around you. For a second you forgot all about the crazy musician and his threat to follow you to Mexico. It was just you and your best friend spending some much needed time away from the messy city life of Los Angeles. The car began to climb the brick road all the way up to the largest resort, intricate metal lanterns hanging from the large front porch of the building. 

“They have us staying here?” Veronica gaped, her eyes wide with excitement. This was her first time out of the country in ages, and she was planning to pack in as much as she possibly could over the three day weekend. She had been sure to warn you to prepare yourself for a packed itinerary. 

“I had no clue it would be this nice.” You mumbled your reply, reaching your hand out numbly as you watched a few members of the staff pour out from the front lobby. 

The car door was being opened for you in the blink of an eye, your luggage already being carried up and into the building. 

“Miss (L/N) and friend, we’re so pleased that you could bless us with your presence. My name is Oliver and I will be taking care of all of your needs. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything at all.” Oliver looked to be a year or two younger than you, dressed up in a pressed suit and perfectly starched tie. He sounded like he was reading off of a script, eager to please the star and her close friend. 

When you had envisioned Cancún you hadn’t thought of. . . such a fancy resort. Sprawling beaches and family owned restaurants were more your style, but this? You’d happily thank your manager for booking you such a sweet gig. You and your friend would be staying in your own suites on the top floor for free, and all you had to do was sit and look pretty during dinner tonight. Living the life of a celebrity was still new to you, so you had been told that you still had that “small town” charm that people adored so much. You were personable and genuine, which was rare to find in Sin City. Your good looks and sweet attitude was, thankfully, the reason why you were able to live such a lush lifestyle. 

“Thank you, Oliver. If you could just point me in the direction of our suites that would be amazing. I need to get dressed for tonight.” Your white sneakers and yoga pants felt hideously out of place in the large lobby. Men and women in full glamor passed by you and your leisurely dressed friend, causing the both of you to duck your heads down in embarrassment in fear of being perceived. 

“Of course. Here is your key ma’am,” Oliver slid you the golden key with a well trained smile. “And then here is yours.” 

You started to walk off in the direction of the elevator but froze as he called your name once again. 

“Someone delivered flowers for you. I can have them brought to your room as well if you’d like.” The young brunette reached down on the table behind him, placing the intricate bouquet down on the counter in front of you. 

Your jaw dropped as you realized just how expensive something like that must have been, especially to be delivered. Peonies, babies breath, roses- it was huge. You couldn’t think of anyone that would deliver flowers to you. Not in Cancún, at least. 

Veronica elbowed your side gently, eagerly urging you to read the card. 

“It’s from-” You couldn’t help but bite your lip, trying to keep your smile at bay. Tonight was already turning out to be wonderful. . . and you practically just landed. 

That smile, however, was quick to fall off of your face as you read the card.

i wanted to give credit to my amazing beta readers! @meds4beatlemania, @austinsmutler and a special thanks to @memphis-mania. mem literally held my hand throughout the editing process and gave me the confidence i needed to put on my big girl panties and post! are you interested in becoming a beta reader? feel free to message me!

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hii

It's me again ✨

Could you write something about staying in bed and watching movies on a super cold rainy day with the papas(not just old nihil for once😂)? It's cold af today and my anemic self is suffering 🫠 and being delusional is helping yk💅🏽

The moment I saw your request, I immediately thought of Nihil. This one's short because I'm sick - Jez

Rainy days in bed with the Papas

Primo

He's not too much of a movie fan, to be honest. Manages to fall asleep during the darkest, goriest scenes purely because they don't really catch his focus.

He enjoys very few movies. His favorite is Les Miserables. Mainly because it's entirely sung.

He walks around and hums the songs later while working.

Prefers to read or solve crossword puzzles or sudoku and stuff like that. He enjoys reading to you or when you read to him.

Might bake with you if you ask nicely.

Will drape his robes over you if you're cold. And wrap you in a blanket.

Multiple blankets.

Makes you many hot herbal teas.

Acts more like a dad than lover on days like these.

Secondo

Gets a fucking headache. Cures it with whisky.

He might be a bit grumpier than usual, he's not a fan of weather like this.

Cuddle the old man, he needs it.

If you two decide to watch movies, he's gonna be really fucking picky about the movie.

He won't tell you what he wants, it's just a matter of you listing titles and him saying no to every single one of them until you finally find something he's willing to watch.

He probably picked something completely stupid, but absolutely not admit the movie is shit.

The movie totally was shit.

Terzo

Bro's gonna take it personally if you decide watching movies is more important than he is.

It's a rainy day, one of the very few days he gets to only pretend to work instead of actually working!

And you wanna watch a movie instead of doing other fun things? Really?

Don't get me wrong, he's fucking soft for you, he'll give in.

Will do some light groping from time to time as you cuddle.

If you tell him to stop or that you're uncomfortable with it, he stops and apologizes. He's pervy, yeah, but he's not a fucking creep.

Lots of kisses and hugs! He's touch starved!

Copia

Copia loves movies! He's got a full collection of his favorites waiting for days like that, just so he can cuddle with you and watch them.

The only one actually focused on the damn movies.

And the only way to distract him is to start touching him.

It's like a little game for you, how much he'll squirm and try to focus on the movie until he gives up watching and gives in to you.

Might get pouty afterwards of he really liked the movie.

Loves to play video games with you on days like these. And he has a perfect excuse, too! What else are you guys supposed to do, after all?

Unlike someone (ekhem, Terzo, ekhem), he's fucking sane about it.

Old Nihil

Only picks ancient movies from his youth that no sane person ever heard of.

And it's the most ridiculous movie ever, something that would totally get cancelled for being offensive nowadays.

If you tell him you don't like it, he might give you some shit about you not appreciating good movies.

Make a cute pouty face at him and his opinion changes completely.

In the end, he lets you pick the movie. Spends the entire time staring at you, dreamingly unless he's startled by a loud noise from the film.

Forgets about the noise within three seconds, goes back to staring at you. Fucking simp.

(The day I don't call Nihil a simp is the day I die)

Young Nihil

Kinda like Terzo, not interested in movies in the slightest.

Way more of an attention whore, though.

Literally whines about you liking a movie more than him.

And he whines like... A lot.

Enough to give up to movie idea completely.

He's gonna have a shit eating grin on his face when he "wins" your little argument.

And he will win. Kinda.

You get upset with him and don't talk to him for a few hours until he makes a joke that he actually kinda likes it.

Smack him and he's gonna laugh, claiming he knew that would get a reaction and that it was planned.

It was not planned, he's just a jackass who doesn't think before opening his mouth.

[roseadleyn]

if u truly like diabolik lovers (according to ur fandom list anyways) then any diabolik lovers ocs that you like and/or love?? and do you have any dl ocs of your own?

OH MY GOD. i have another ask like this. should probably stop procrastinating and answer all 87 of my asks but procrastination is life 😍‼️

btw this list is not in order at all‼️i love you all the same <333

1. helen harrison, aurora, and lae'la by @/nutaella-kookie

laila isn't around on tumblr anymore (deactivated) but i actively stalk all blogs that contain helen posts. she's my favorite oc ever created and i genuinely love and fantasize about her all the timeeee

aurora is the BEST person in the demon world alongside devyn and gilbert. shut up. u don't get to argue because omg i love this woman

and lae'la... she's so objectively wrong but oh my heavens she looks good while she's at it. girlboss, love her.

2. keiichirou seong by @gingerall

okay but i am so in love with this man u do not understand!!! he's written well, he's drawn well, and he's so pretty 😭💞 yes he's a red flag but red is my favorite color so what are you going to do about it huh 🙄🙄

(@gingerall's art SLAYS btw. go check it out. i dare you. rn. )

3. devyn kang by @secretarykang

devyn is so beautiful???? so girlboss???? like, genuinely, this is the rare female oc who's a compelling female character who doesn't need to beat everyone up to be empowering and i just. hhhh ma'am i love u pleaseee

4. maya by @summercreolefanfictioner

BABIE!!! mentally traumatized, but babie!!! i found maya a while back and read her ENTIRE masterlist in one setting. istg i love her, she's so complex (in a good way!!) and deserves the world for putting up with kanato like she does

5. gilbert by @summercreolefanfictioner

SIR??? MY HAND IN MARRIAGE IS HERE??? literally simp over him as a hobby he's too well written and way too handsome for me to not do that okay??? and also he didn't need to die miss summer he deserves a happy ending with devyn!!!

6. cyra by @mariicake

is she single??? because i am (/j)

okay but like come on. this woman is so. wjsjd she makes me feel things she's so pretty and she slays literally every interaction with those mentally ill vampires and whatever else cooks in the dl abyss

7. asa, akemi and amaya by @crookedherringcolorclodthe2nd

(i'm unable to tag your original blog, my apologies!!)

my go to ocs if i need to laugh??? these girls. i absolutely adore their dynamic and the way they're written, a definite 10/10 for character building

8. malorie by @whitechocolatemochaasblog

MALORIE IS THE PRETTIEST NAME EVER OMG. also i just love how cute she is???? she's so baby, i love her with my whole entire heart and soul

9. makoto by @kirua9

poor girl </3 she just wants some love 😭 come here makoto i can treat u better than he ever could‼️

she's so hurt that it makes my heart ache

as for whether i have my own dl ocs... i have my own ocs, but not dl ones!! i'm considering putting my ocs in dl but i'll probably do it after i've organized this blog a little bit, you know???

currently, the ocs that are out are xander, raymond, roselyn, and caelia, and i'm working on emma (that's her old moodboard) rn <333 seven of my ocs have moodboards but i hated the mbs so i obviously had to remake them all; currently four have been remade, fifth is abt to be done‼️

lots of my mutuals have ocs but none of them are dl, so they weren't mentioned here. they slay nonetheless!!!

...and i've rambled way, way too much again, bye bye 😍

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Sorry sorry but I can't help myself, the power this man holds I swear. I feel like aaron and brian just fit them so right??

Sorry for the angst, I actually wanted to save it for when you're requests are open but I thought it's too sad and you might not want to write it. Is it ok if I extend it a little and send it a few days later? (Apologies if it's too much but you've just awoken something in me that I didn't know I had)

But I'm so in love wirh the idea that you'd be that one unfathomably cool trio that is just so reckless and chaotic. We'd be the brain of the group (if that makes sense) and the only one who thinks before we act. Feel like we would be able to handle ourself in small fights, so he sometimes just stands there, awe struck, watching you like, yep, that's my girl. But god forbid someone manages to lay a finger on you, he'll see red. He WILL choke the man to death, no questions asked.

In the novel it is mentioned that he likes to read while on missions (when he has the time that is) so I can just imagine him grabbing two books for both of you as you sit and read like the classy couple that you two are. ("Killed 12 people and y'all are over here reading." lem, probably)

This is so self indulgent so I apologize but if you're first language isn't english, he WILL learn a few things just for you. He adores the surprised look on your face, followed by that pretty smile and laugh of yours.

In an interview with aaron and brian, aaron looked confused at the word "simp" and I can just picture that with tan and lem. He doesn't spend that much time on the internet so when lem hits him with the "You're whipped." or "Man's got it down bad." he'd look so confused.

Ok but imagine you trim his moustache, omg, he'll have you sit on his lap, his hands gently placed on your waist, you'd be too focused to notice the soft look in his eyes. "Darlin' stop smiling, I'll mess up." he mutter a sorry but the smile still remains present on his face.

Rewatched the movie, love the way this man looks in his full suit. Gotta ask, what's your fav scene of him? Or maybe your fav line of his? I'm in love with the way he explains the white death's backstory, he looks so good in that scene too. Also like the way he says tickety-boo, it's just so silly. Again, I'm so sorry, I said I'll wait a few days but I just couldn't. Just when I send in the ideas I get new ones, no thoughts, head empty, only tan. If you want I'll write them in my notes and save them for few days later.

💺 anon

hii!

1. not to worry, he still has me in one too. and right?!?

2. don’t worry about it!! was a beautifully sad idea. yes yes!! you’re more than welcome to expand it

3. YES!!! like the brainy/ maybe techy one. I feel like he’d let you have your moment/ revenge/ fighting time etc until it gets too close, like he knows you can handle yourself and don’t need a guy to defend/ protect, but tan wouldn’t risk it. like after a few minutes if you’re still fighting, he’ll come and help (he knows you could’ve done it, but again he didn’t wanna risk you getting killed/ really badly injured) you’re like “I nearly had him” and he’s like “yeah, I know” but he’s grinning and checking you over for cuts/ wounds etc

4. UGHH I LOVE THAT!! very classy, sitting in first class, legs crossed reading the same book😩 that lem moment😭😭perfect

5. omg yes!!! even more cute and perfect if it’s broken and the verbs and tenses are wrong and he says something in different language and you’re like “you said, ‘I am very beautiful’” 😭😭😭 and you’re trying not to laugh or embarrass him

6. AHAHAHA yes!! I feel like lem knows lots of the lingo, and tan is at a loss, “peng? what the fuck is peng” “what the fuck does that mean?” so lem is always educating him on the words. I feel like he sounds old when he asks about it, like “when did people stop saying …” “what’s wrong with saying …”

7. 🫠🫠🫠🫠 that’s all I gotta say about that one, omg!!?! melting and crying at that thought. WANT THAT

8. well… I haven’t watched it in a while, but I have many memorable moments. so I love when he walks off the train and lighting his cig (for obvious reasons) when he’s punching the back train window (again, for obvious reasons) when he and lem are debating the 16/17 kill count. and quotes … “you following me? stop… arsehole” and something along the lines of “story about when gordon met percy and how percy’s bleeding from his fucking eye sockets” “not particularly, no” “some 80s dance off, innit” AAAAHH NEED TO REWATCH IT AGAIN SO BAD

don’t worry about it bby, if and evenever you get ideas, keep them in your notes and then like this time and last send them over. don’t worry about sending in a few days, if you wanna, send them when you want. I said send too many times😭😭 hope you catch my drift

[wordsbymae]

Hey! Just checking in and i just want to give some love to your aesthetics because they have their own album in my photos just so i can appreciate and think about these characters you got me simping after!

Also i was possibly wondering if you could possibly give descriptions of all your characters i just got out of a huge art block and i wanna draw farmer and also most of your cast. Ive tried already but id like to see them from your eyes and what you think they look like! I would also like to share them if you do but please know there is no pressure and if you already have descriptions i apologize i just get lost in your wonderful content!

Also, I hope you're doing well! - wave anon

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Ok, my time of mourning is over. Also, I fell asleep so my bad. Anyway! Let's try this again.

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Hi! So good to hear from you again. How are you? Oh my goodness that is so cool! I’m so glad you like them!

Of course, I can! It would be my pleasure. I would love to see them but no pressure at all if life gets in the way or you change your mind. No need to apologise! I usually keep descriptions of the yanderes to a minimum just because I know everyone has different types, so I like that people can imagine the type of person they want. Although I do have to imagine them to write so I love sharing that, even though “canonically” they look however the reader wishes them to look. I usually use face claims cause I am lazy at trying to make a new face or mix and match, but there are small differences here and there. Also, you’re gonna make me cry! I am so flattered you wanted to draw my characters; it is honestly surreal!

So, let’s start with the FARMER. So, the farmer is unique compared to my other ocs just cause the reader gets to see him at different stages of his life (although AUs). The older farmer is anywhere in age between 35-50 (depending on what the reader prefers) and is the stereotypical good-looking’’ but rough farmer you see in tv shows and movies. His face claim is Josh Lucas in Yellowstone. He wears mainly dark jeans with a grey tee and long-sleeved collared shirts over the top. He does not go outside without his hat. His hair is dark brownish and long enough that he has to rake it back to put his hat back on, and he also has a ‘70s moustache, with some stubble, even if he shaved yesterday.

YOUNGER FARMER is a little different though, he's between 23-29. I had Brian Van Holt as Bo Sinclair as his face claim, especially in how he acts a bit, but now I also have Lewis Pullman in Outer Range as Rhett Abbott as another face claim. Both suit really well, but Rhett is honestly just that bit better. I haven’t watched the show but from the stills I’ve seen, he suits the vibe really well. But as long as he is clean-shaven and wears similar clothes to old man farmer, it's the younger farmer. I see him wearing a lot of baseball/trucker caps. Most likely he only has one he wears to death and that’s why he doesn’t wear it anymore when he’s older cause it literally doesn’t exist anymore.  I don't see his hair being as long as Rhett's though, maybe even like Arvin Russel's hair from devil all the time. Longish, but not long enough.

FISHERMAN is someone that took me forever to decide what he looks like. I was torn between a lean or beefy fisherman. Thankfully the decision was made for me when I saw a still from the movie the lighthouse of Robert Patterson standing over the top of someone. Also, that movie (even though I haven’t seen it) is a big inspiration for the fisherman. The insanity and derangement of the characters are perfect, and I have quite stills saved in my Pinterest. So yeah, Robert Patterson in that movie is kinda my inspo for the fisherman. My fisherman though is still a little bit more muscular, just a bit. Nothing too crazy, just enough that the reader in my head gets a bit intimidated when they try and stand their ground. Also, I see his hair being much shorter, maybe even cropped on both sides (not to the point of it being shaved off though) but the 19th-century-looking facial hair has to stay though I think, it builds character. He wears a lot of woollen jumpers and rough fabric and looks very weathered and grey.

OK OK, HEAR ME OUT. I have a very particular face claim for KILLER, that has been rattling around my head for over two years even though I only wrote him last year. But killer has to look like Mario Casas in The Skin of the Wolf (at least in my mind). If you want to look, def put the name of the movie as well otherwise the vibes disappear real quick. Anyway, I won’t bore you with a summary of the movie or why it has to be him (Although it is a really good movie, made me cry, and I refused to finish it cause I knew it was about to end in more tears, so in my mind him and his - kinda forced- wife live happily ever after, he sucks - in a kinda hot way- as a person though, great movie for yandere inspo). Ok, so he's really tall, really buff, really dirty looking and then kinda mash him with Thomas Hewitt in the fact he looks like he could bench press a car. Kinda that vibe. Hair is wild, messy, and matted in some places, and his beard is just a mess at this point.

The VIKING is another one that took forever for me to make a choice on how he looks. I actually saved a pic in my Pinterest that was how I view him forever until I realised it was a god of war concept art (nothing wrong with that! but I didn't want to make it fanficish). So he's the only one where I legit have mashed together pieces of people together to get the best out of him. He definitely has long facial hair (not super long, but long compared to nowadays), and he has long hair and a scar running diagonally across one of his eyes. I literally use every attractive man in every Viking-inspired movie or tv show for him so run wild with him! I would love to see how you view him.

ELI is another one I have a very particular face claim for (but you don't have to draw them like that! It just helps me visualise what's happening). I have him down as Jack O'Connell in Godless, but also as Hoyt Rawlins from Walker Independence (A new development for me, it was just the other guy FOR MONTHS). While the other guy is how I view him looking, Hoyt is definitely how he acts, almost spot on. It was crazy watching it and going holy shit! a blonde happy-go-lucky gunslinger cracking jokes at every possible second, it's just Eli but without the whole werewolf thing. He definitely has shorter hair than my other ocs, he keeps it cut quite close, but his beard is something he doesn't really care for, mainly cause it doesn't grow very thick, so he doesn't have to worry. He's got dirty blonde hair, bordering brown but still blonde.

Ok, so the MAD KING is one I'm really happy I changed my mind for. I had him as the evil prince from a letter to the king. But he looks very young and actually not that threatening if you take all the armour off him. Very boyish and not someone you would call a mad king, mad/evil/wicked prince yes, but not a king. But you know someone that looks like a king? Dev Patel in The Green Knight. Oh boy, I am obsessed. The shots of him in the crown and on the throne? Perfect, literally perfect. Now imagine being the queen standing beside him, tears in your eyes and having to hold his hand while yours shakes, your marriage being announced to the kingdom. It fits. So yeah def him, I didn't really change much, the hair and everything suit so yeah. But once again you don't have to draw just actors/characters! If you want to add something in or change things around go for it! Draw for enjoyment!

Lucky last! ALWYN! He was another one who didn't really have someone as a face claim until recently. I just imagined him with scruffy dark hair, dark eyes and a bit muscly. However, I do now use Alex Garcia when he has longish hair. But that's just kind of a placeholder. The guy who played gwaine is another good inspo. But Alwyn always changes how he looks in my mind when I write so I'm happy with whatever!

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Haha, jokes I'm including the SHEEP SHEARER fella for funsies. Ok so I haven't made a decision on the face claim, and I would really want to see how you'd view him. No pressure to draw though!! You do it for yourself, forget about me! I know I literally haven't written a word about him, but I'm planning on setting it late 19th century and having the reader be the niece of the sheep farmer. The reader comes from a pretty well-off family and is visiting her uncle for a little bit. Anyway, she catches the eye of literally every non-related male on the property and since it's a shearing season, there are also a good twenty other men on top of her uncle's workers vining for her attention. I want to make her a little bit naive and not really understanding why all these men want to be her friend, but the sheep shearer, who will be getting a name cause fuck typing that six times, (Probs gonna be Lachlan, shortened to lochy, its a very common name here and apparently not very common elsewhere. although uk probs has it) does. And he hates it. He isn't the best with women, not as smooth as his mates, but he won't let this one get away.

Anyway!!! Thank you for sending this though and all the best!!!!!!!!!

[oddaesthetin]

Introduction & Masterlist

hello! i go by username oddaesthetin or kaede, but you can call me tin! i write drabbles, imagines, headcanons, and fluffs but i don't accept requests since architecture school requires most of my time (it's hella draining). i mostly just write when i feel like escaping schoolworks so they might always be a little self-indulgent.

to save you time for searching my works as i mainly just reblog, here is my masterlist, slash, all of what i have written in my few months of being on this app!

haikyuu | jujutsu kaisen | bungou stray dogs | cool doji danshi | xdinary heroes | seventeen

haikyuu

drabbles

making fun of sleeping girlfriend

fluffs

partners that know immediately their s/o is pregnant

jujutsu kaisen

inumaki toge

reader with a nullification technique (i)

reader with a nullification technique (f)

megumi fushiguro

he asks you to move in with him

headcanon type

partners that know immediately their s/o is pregnant

how the jjk boys react to your love for eavesdropping (nanami ver.)

gojo satoru

3:56 am — midnight conversation

bungou stray dogs

drabbles mixed with fluffs

osamu dazai

birthday celebration

“i have a new partner who’s also my bestfriend”

stupid, stupid man

headcanon type

partners that know immediately their s/o is pregnant

memes i found on pinterest

#1

#2

#3

#4

incorrect quotes

number 1

number 2

cool doji danshi

imagines

ichikura hayate

a “date”

futami shun

teach!

souma shiki

girls’ ideal boyfriend

drabble

headcanon type

partners that know immediately their s/o is pregnant

seventeen

jeonghan

sunny days (f)

xdinary heroes

junhan

junhan x introverted s/o (i)

something even better (d)

junhan as the type of boyfriend (hc)

drunk, awkward, in love (f)

catching you looking at his fan photos (f)

missing him while he’s on tour (f)

do you, by any chance, know how to cook seafood sundubu jjiggae? (f)

i love my guitarist side (f)

first snow (f)

jooyeon

five jooyeons or one five-year old jooyeon (f)

simping over him (f)

if you liked my works, thank you, and i love you sm!

I APOLOGIZE IF THEY SOMETIMES GET A LITTLE CRINGE-Y (or a little too cold and boring). i am a 21-year old bitchless (i dont know the equivalent of this word for boys) female living in a weirdly religious and traditional 3rd world country with very strict parents. i have not experienced real romantic love aside from the scenarios i make up in my head. TMI. i am currently crying, sobbing in agony (eventho i know fully well that it’s me deliberately avoiding men bcs im too contented being alone ((I AM MY OWN ENTERTAINMENT))).

i also would like to apologize if i don't always reply to comments under my posts (i am a very awkward person), but i really appreciate all of them!

[amyrosabell333]

Yandere Vladislaus Straud 🦇 The Sims 4 Headcanons

Note: I'm generally surprised there weren't any fanfics (at least what I have seen) of the Sims characters yet, so I decided to make my personal Yandere fanfic about lol This is the first complete fanfic I have made, so I don't expect to be perfect and all, but hey I had a lot of fun making this fanfic with my favorite sim character Vladislaus. (Yes I'm a simp for this evil, old man lmao) I might plan to make other fanfics of the other sim characters soon.

Type of yandere traits and warnings ⚠️🔪: Sadistic, manipulative and controlling

At first, he saw you as nothing more than a prey and a simple sim, but that suddenly has changed when he got drawn to your negativity...

Why don't you fight back? He hated the fact that he has feelings for you. How could a simple sim like you make this evil, black-hearted monster fall in love with you? A sim's mortal blood is far more important to him than anything silly called love to him... That's until he got attracted to you and your naivety... He wanted to make you pay for having such curse feelings for you.

He would manipulate you first by harming you and your loved ones ruthlessly, to keep you by his side. He would isolate you and everyone you love, he's the only man you will have eyes for from now on. Have eyes for someone else he will eliminate and torture them with no hesitation for you to have no choice but to stay isolated by his side forever. He might as well have your hand in the marriage too.

Don't bother escaping, he'll eventually catch you by mist-teleporting to wherever you are. As punishment, he will use one of his vampire powers against you and leave you in a locked room for hours without eating or drinking until you apologize to him.

If you weren't a vampire already, he would force vampirism on you so you would live with him for eternity. But he will make you a lower-ranked vampire than him just to have full control over you. He truly does love you, but he also loves torturing and manipulating you. You made this bloodthirsty sucking monster fall in love with you, It's your fault that he blames you for letting him fall in love with a simple sim like you...

[lobotomygender]

i feel so fucking horrible dude

i was entirely the problem with 🧬 and the entire situation revolving around him. even if he fucked up or lashed out at me he apologized afterwards. when i was actually trying to change and didbt victimize myself he actually gave really good advice and was nice and supportive, but my dumbass started to become a toxic person and blame him for everything that went wrong in our friendship and then i was like "omg he doesn't match energy with me, he's an abuser!!1!1!"

even if him and 🦥 stalked me and quote tweeted my posts harassing me, i literally s/a'd him. i deserved it. i shouldn't have defended it or said that they were lying. this was over a year ago but holy shit i feel horrible

the only thing they lied about was that i was faking being an irl, and that me calling out a 3-4 year old age gap was hypocritical because i simp for a 110 year old man????????? the second part hurts because it shows they never supported me for liking kd in the first place. i wasn't even faking being an irl, i was QUESTIONING if i was. i really hope they've changed their mindset about this because i was not faking anything in any way shape or form

i don't know what to do because they were both petty and immature about the whole situation and still kind of are??? but at the same time i did tell 🧬 to khs and a whole bunch of other stuff. i have mixed feelings and im still angry at their pettiness but i want to be the bigger person and apologize

i dont know what to fucjing do because they both still acr this way and it's so frustrating because of someone i met on tiktok who acts just like 🦥 who is against ppl who listen to msi even if they just like some of their songs. i don't know which side to take on separating art from artist anymore because no matter what i do im just going to end up feeling horrible either way

i don't care if i get stalked by them anymore i just want this conflict to end. i want the pettyness to end. i shouldn't have victimized myself or justified what i did at all but they're still holding onto a paragraph i swnt in 2022 and it's weird

[richtofens-hips]

sona and her besties

Thats a man dw in the land of ancient China the men were prettier than the women 😃

More men... just doodling their designs first before actually finalizing it hehe

FEMALE DRAGON PRINCESS 🔥🔥

I love making stories but never writing them down to make them solid

My Oh My by Camilla Cabello inspired me to just doodle uhhh this whatever this is

My taste in men is extraordinary

Simping over my own ocs dude what-

(Men in glasses. Idk. Love me a blind man. Nerdy ones. Scrawny ones. Dumb ones. Don't really have a type now that realize it 🤔)

Yes, I actlike a child. I once saw my friend and said "what's up homeski?!" And the teacher beside me laughed. I apologized, saying I have the energy of a 5 year old. She said "no that's OK! Thats good!"

People wanna grow up so early but not me screw that I'm staying young thx