#delilah belongs to a friend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was attacked by a cross-site scripting worm deployed by the Internet troll group GNAA on Dec 3, 2012.

#delilah belongs to a friend

sanyu-thewitch05 · 9 months

Note

Hunter breeding his wife cuz she has been a such a brat these days,she should know he loves only her! No need to be so bratty about it, like what does she mean his love was suffocating? He had to punish her to remind her who she belongs to

TW: Mind control, Dubcon, Noncon, breeding kink

It's March, and the flowers are starting to bloom. Normally, you'd love the weather, but recently you can't enjoy anything due to Hunter. Luckily, Delilah offers some form of relief for you.

"Ae!" Delilah squeals, trying to crawl up to you.

"Good girl!" You coo, opening your arms for your baby.

Delilah stumbles onto her feet and tries to take a couple of steps. All is going well until Hunter opens the door. Then, Delilah falls to her knees.

"I'm home, and I brought food!" Hunter yells, bringing bags of fast food.

"Really, Hunter?! Delilah was about to take her first steps, and you ruined it!" You snap, making Hunter a bit uncomfortable.

"Sorry, darling. I was really excited to see my family," Hunter says, trying to kiss you on the cheek.

"Well, I'd like it if you saw us less often," You reply, moving your cheek away.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm saying your love is a suffocating force that strangles the life and joy out of everyone around you."

"You don't mean that. My love helped create our babies."

"More like your kinks and persistence did. If anything, I should be worried that they're related to you."

"There's no reason to act so bratty. If you're upset, take it out on me. Don't take it out on the children."

"I'm going to bed. Lauren, time for dinner!"

You put Delilah into her high chair and walk to your bedroom. You sit on the bed and look at a photo of you from the beginning of senior year. You were happy, and best of all, you didn't know him.

"Mamamama!" Lauren coos, walking into your room.

Delilah crawls in, following behind her sister. They climb onto the bed and snuggle next to you.

"Aww! Are my babies all full?" You ask, kissing their cheek.

Lauren nods her head and hugs your chest.

"Daddy even fed us desert!" Lauren squeals, becoming bouncy and hyper.

Hunter walks into the room, and you shoot him a glare.

"Alright, you two. Mommy is tired and needs her rest," Hunter says, making Delilah and Lauren climb down.

The two babies go into their playroom.

"Really? Desert? Right before bedtime? They'll be hyper till the next morning," You scold, hitting Hunter with a pillow.

"Is it so wrong to treat my babies right? Besides, at least I ate dinner with them," Hunter comments, making you snap.

"At least I don't uproot their lives and force them to be with me all the time. At least I let them have their choice of friends. At least they know I give them unconditional love," You snarl, breaking Hunter's last straw.

Hunter pins you to the bed and kisses you.

"You need to be punished. I'm not letting our children get raised by a brat," Hunter says, flipping you over.

Your stomach is on the bed, and you know what's going to happen.

"Oh please, a couple of spankings aren't going to hurt me. I'm used to your hands by now," You comment, laughing at your husband.

"Which is why I bought this paddle. I was going to save this for the weekend during our getaway, but I see you need it now," Hunter says, making your eyes widen.

"You-ah!"

Hunter slaps your ass with the paddle. He takes off your pants and underwear, and you're only left with your shirt on.

"Keep talking, and you'll end up with one hundred hits to the ass. If your pussy starts to get wet, I will command you when to cum. If you squirt, you'll get one hundred more hits."

Hunter keeps paddling your ass, and eventually, he notices your pussy is dripping wet.

"How pitiful. You only made it to fifty before getting wet. In that case, you'll need to cum every time the paddle touches your ass," Hunter says, shocking you.

"Hunter, that isn't even possible!" You exclaim, trying to move your hands from the cuffs he put them in.

"Of course, it is. You see, Heath and Henry are having relationship problems with their wives, too. So, Henry used his tech company to create a collar we call the Commando. Once that pretty thing is around your neck, you can't help but do anything I say," Hunter explains, bringing the black and pink collar around your neck.

"Hunter, stop it! Hunter-ooh...why does it feel so good?" You moan, feeling everything in you go hot.

"There are temporary nanobots in the heart. Right now, those bots are in your bloodstream, traveling to your brain and taking it over so you can be perfect. Don't worry. Once the caller is off, you'll be free."

"Hunter, you've just hit a new low."

Your head feels dizzy, and suddenly you black out. When you awaken, you feel the need to follow Hunter's orders.

"What should I do for my husband?" You ask, smiling gleefully.

"Cum every time I hit you with this paddle," Hunter replies, making your pussy get wetter than before.

Hunter hits you with a paddle, and you cum instantaneously. He laughs and hits you fifty more times. You cum so much that it's leaking onto the bed sheets.

"What else should I do for my wonderful husband?" You ask, turning to face Hunter.

"Tell me, are you highly fertile right now? I know you check your menstrual chart every day," Hunter commands, grabbing your phone from your nightstand.

"Of course, honey!" You chirp, pulling up your period tracker and pulling up today's date. "I'm very fertile today. Are you going to make me a mommy of three?"

"God, I love the way you talk with this collar."

Hunter takes his pants off and puts his dick inside you.

"Oh, master!" You moan, holding your legs open for him. "And to think naughty me was going to get birth control and an IUD."

"If that's what you thought you were going to do, then I'm going to make sure the only thing that always belongs in this pussy is my cock."

Hunter speeds up his thrusts, and he cums in you. You moan with satisfaction and beg for him to breed you again.

"If my loyal wife commands it," Hunter says, thrusting in you again.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" You squeal, groping your boobs. "Make my boobies full of even more milk!"

Hunter climaxes and sends a wave of cum into you.

"Cuddle, Y/N."

"Yes, hubby."

The two of you cuddle while Hunter is still inside you. When you wake up, your pelvis is hurting like no tomorrow.

"Hunter, what did you do?" You groan, holding your stomach.

"I bred the brat out of you," Hunter answers, bringing breakfast and painkillers. "Don't worry. You'll be okay, and you'll deliver another child for our babies to play with."

You cry, and he soothes you.

"I'll provide the best maternal services for you like I've always done. As much as I want you to be carrying my babies, you can't do that if you're stressed."

"What would you know about stress, you demonic, horny bitch."

"I can tell being a mother is stressing you out so after this baby, I'll be wearing a condom. You're also getting that nexaplon implant I took out back in college. We both need a break."

"Thank you, Hunter."

For once, things were going your way. At least you'll have another nine months without a period.

#yandere jock #rich yandere #yandere noncon #yandere dubcon #yandere smut #asks #sanyuthewitch05

581 notes · View notes

photo1030 · 6 months

Text

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.”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader smut

181 notes · View notes

deramin2 · 6 months

Text

God I love Orym's choice to make a deal with Nana Mori so much.

He trusts Morrigan because he trusts Fearne. They're like bonded shelter cats. This place genuinely doesn't feel so bad. Like Maybe someplace he could settle. And then he wouldn't be able to keep running. And in return none of his new family has to die, which is the thing that traumatized him and destroyed his happy life. If they can just stay alive maybe they'll be powerful enough to win. With Ashton and Fearne's new powers, and Imogen leaning into her powers. And Laudna is freaked out about Delilah but also using that power because when she felt angry and terrified and alone it was right there. Chetney is all about harnessing his curse and not just living with it but thriving. All his friends have made these big moves and he was still just some guy. So he got in on the game.

Going home is too painful to him to stay. He wants to visit, but he doesn't feel like he belongs anymore. He hasn't for years, that's why he's been traveling. But he could belong here with Fearne's people because he loves and trusts Fearne.

Nana Mori is weird and off-putting but she doesn't scare Orym. He doesn't think she's deceitful, he thinks she binds people to their word. He's offering something mutually beneficial. Her interests are inscrutable, but Fearne's happiness is one of those interests and he makes Fearne happy. So it's in Mori's best interest to take care of him. And he in turn will take care of her.

Derrig was his lover's father who trained him to be a guardian and made him more powerful so he could do that well. That's not that different than Mori. He's really just repeating familiar patterns with different contexts. He failed Zephrah, but maybe he can redeem himself and also try a new post. He's a soldier.

He doesn't want to die but he thinks it might be inevitable (and worth it) for this cause. He can't let what happened to his husband and his father happen again. He couldn't think through that fear. And he has actually been open about it, but also there actually hasn't been an alternative. This is just one more crux move in a long series of moves to stop all this. All of it suicidally dangerous. None of them are the best people to do this. Chetney voiced what they've all been thinking: their one advantage is they're expendable. Everybody at that war meeting had to be prepared to be expendable, but they're trying to minimize casualties. Bell's Hells are Team Frodo, but there may not be any eagles coming. And Orym knows that. He thinks this is an incredibly important mission but also a one-way trip. But maybe making this deal is what sends the eagles. And he knows he can't go back to The Shire, so maybe Nana Mori's domain could be Valinor. It has been a respite for him.

Maybe all that is as much hubris and misplaced trust as Zerxus trying to reform Asmodeus. What I love about this choice is we don't know. The way things were before he made a deal was just win-lose for Orym. Now it has a whole other interesting layer of things that could happen.

Campaign 1 & Campaign 2 were about adventuring parties trying to save the world. Exandria Unlimited: Calamity was about an adventuring party who fails to save the world. Campaign 3 is not about success or failure as an objective. It's about making interesting choices and then following the consequences of those choices. This is theater where anything can happen. This is Shakespeare where everything going wrong is FUN. This isn't a definite tragedy, but they took off all the guard rails that said it couldn't be.

They don't have to win to be successful in the work of art they want to make. Marisha explicitly said to throw out expectations. I truly think the cast did. The world is something being done to them, not something they are causing to happen. And they're reacting to it in whatever sounds the most interesting with potential consequences they most want to see. It's a game of curiosity.

So a couple things can happen here: Either they don't all make it back, Orym is heartbroken and trying to fix it or dead. Or Orym gets what he wants and we see more of Nana Mori's nature and if she's more like Uk'otoa or Artagan. Either way Orym gets a new and interesting direction to go in.Far more interesting than succeeding and everything staying the same. And that's why I like the choice.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role meta #critical role campaign 3 #Bell's Hells #orym of the air ashari

77 notes · View notes

biorusted · 6 months

Text

So, trying to wrap my head around it all.

The lesson learnt here was ‘Do the risk, but tell the group first.’ Which is interesting because I did not understand that as the source of the issue.

I thought the source was letting hubris take flight and going after a larger power that one felt like they ‘deserved.’

Ashton felt he deserved the fire shard because of his family history with the hishari and the tragedy that marred him for the rest of his life. BH seemed to have a problem with this hubris and ignoring the (obvious to some) signs that the power didn’t ‘belong’ to him.

Which directly relates to Imogen and Laudna’s hubris. Imogen believes it’s her destiny/power etc to pursue the red moon and control that magic, while Laudna has leaned into her patron for the power she can provide. These powers can destroy them but they feel like they can and will control them. This relates because it is pm Ashton’s whole deal.

Power that relates to them: power that they can control and is thus theirs.

Ashton even mentions that the Witches’ idea that Fearne deserves the fire shard because of her natural power and the power of her biological parents is the same flawed line of thinking as him, but they seemingly ignore that, implying that hubris/power grabbing is not the ladies' main concern.

So the signs that I thought were leading to ‘do not think that this strange power is for you just because you think you can control it’ became ‘control the power, but tell the group that you’re going to do it first.’

I believe Ashton sees the disparity, but Imogen and Laudna do not (not sure about the rest of the party.) And that’s why Ashton said ‘it could have been any one of us’ because the lesson they took from this was still to take the risks.

Which is interesting because it implies if Ashton told the group what he wanted, they would have been semi okay with it, even if it led to Ashton dying or almost dying.

I also think it’s interesting because hubris always goes well in a dangerous situation (sarcasm.) Imogen is very quickly sliding down a slippery slope of pradathos’ powers and relying more on sneaking into her friend’s minds to control the situations around them (her words were more specifically ‘If I knew what Ashton was planning I could have stopped it’) which still does not insinuate communication and trust in the group, just an invasion of privacy and control.

Laudna’s lines of herself and Delilah are becoming more blurred, and while Laudna is scared, she also has leaned into this power as well, even comming up with plans if it becomes too much (for Imogen to kill her)

But both of these are ‘okay’ with the group because they have told the group.

Note that they have not *discussed* it with the group, only told them. Whether or not the group feels okay with these certain growths in power and hubris we do not know. I think Orym has certain feelings about it, and as mentioned I think Ashton does too now that they’ve been humbled significantly, but whether either of them speak up about it… Well Ashton has illuded to it and Orym’s goal is to keep the group together long enough to subdue the threat/ complete their missions.

So overall, the lesson that the majority of BH understood was ‘tell the group before doing the risky thing.’ Which while I was surprised and a bit disappointed, I also recognize that it is extremely in line for this group. I think will have some consequences for not being ‘don’t let hubris tell you that the power was made for you.’ and I think their communication needs to improve over all (not just Telling the group before something goes awry, but letting it be a discussion) but at least they understand to talk to one another before something explodes (like with FCG going murderbot this last ep)

TLDR: The lesson that BH took away from their therapy session was ‘do the risk, but tell the group’ which will have major consequences.

#critical role #bells hells #critical role spoilers #ashton greymoore #imogen temult #laudna #fearne calloway #orym of the air ashari #rusted words

66 notes · View notes

freddieslater · 2 months

Text

Make Me Write

OKAY SO. I have too many WIPs. Please help me complete them by sending me the title of a fic/number and forcing me to write a paragraph for it otherwise they will never be finished. Also all of the titles are just placeholders, they will probably not be the final title lmao (Explicit fics will have an E next to them and Mature fics will have an M!)

1. Back From the Dead (like mother like daughter) [EastEnders]

2. A Tale of Two Peters [MCU]

3. Sambastian hookup [Glee] (M)

4. Windows to the Soul [Hollyoaks]

5. Opera Ordeal [Lucifer]

6. nudist resort [Lucifer] (E)

7. What happens in Vegas… [Lucifer] (E)

8. Facetime [EastEnders]

9. Love in the Villa [TVD]

10. BFB [EastEnders]

11. Adventures in Babysitting [EastEnders]

12. Spin the Bottle [Hollyoaks]

13. You Are In Love [Hollyoaks]

14. Do Nurses Turn You On? [Grey’s Anatomy] (E)

15. American Pie Reunion: Stifler Version [American Pie] (E)

16. Wedding Woes [Friends]

17. The One Where Rachel Kisses Joey [Friends]

18. 7 Minutes in Heaven [Boy Meets World]

19. Coach’s Office [Teen Wolf] (M)

20. You Have A Date For This Thing? [American Pie]

21. Cotton the Pony [Friends]

22. What Does George Have To Do With This? [Hollyoaks]

23. Let’s never go back [TVD]

24. A Proper Goodbye [Outlander] (E)

25. New Traditions [Girl Meets World]

26. Bigger Than The Whole Sky [TVD]

27. You Have A Vampire In Your Bed [TVD]

28. Feed [TVD]

29. Rules of (A Fake) Engagement [Gilmore Girls]

30. My Tiny Prince [Crashing]

31. You Needed Me [Crashing]

32. Marley and Teddy [iCarly]

33. Hey There, Delilah [Glee]

34. ASMR [Glee]

35. Were in the Woods? [Teen Wolf]

36. Beefsteak Club [Outlander]

37. He’s Your MJ [Amazing Spider-Man/MCU]

38. Veronica [Boy Meets World]

39. Welcome to the Black Parade [Life With Derek]

40. Eichen [Teen Wolf]

41. He Doesn’t Belong There [Outlander]

42. I’m Not Sick, I’m the Devil [Lucifer]

43. The Origins of Stefanie Bennett-Salvatore [TVD]

44. Let the Games Begin [MCU]

45. You’re On the Front Page! [DCTV]

46. Veil Dropped, No Enzo [TVD]

47. High School Musical: The Reunion: Glee Edition [DCTV/Glee]

48. Truth, Dare or Die? [TVD]

49. Spilled Coffee & Scars [Lucifer]

50. The Kissing Booth [Life With Derek]

51. Mind-Dive [TVD]

52. Male Code Blue [Life With Derek]

53. Guardian Enzo [TVD]

54. Greenhouse [Legacies]

55. Hope living with Jeremy [Legacies/TVD]

56. Love Letters [Legacies]

57. Cake by the Ocean [EastEnders] (M)

58. An Unexpected Gift [EastEnders]

59. History Repeats [TVD]

60. Blonde and Bitchy Just Happens to Be My Type [EastEnders]

61. Return of the Gay Uncles [EastEnders]

62. SilverSpider [MCU]

63. Vampires In Vegas [TVD]

64. Would You Maybe Want To… Be My Date To My Parents’ Wedding? [Legacies]

#ignore me while I ramble #make me write #fanfiction stuff #writing stuff #my wips #god there are so many 😭#PLEASE HELP ME #FORCE ME TO WRITE

32 notes · View notes

abisbookshelf · 2 months

Text

100+ songs that remind me of kiribaku/bakushima: the ship between eijiro kirishima + katsuki bakugo from my hero academia (anime)

best friend - rex orange county

sunflower - rex orange county

just a friend - jordi

pluto projector - rex orange county

i love you so - the walters

falling for ya - from the "teen beach movie" - grace phipps

line without a hook - ricky montgomery

mr. loverman - ricky montgomery

the only exception - paramore

devil town - cavetown

falling for u - peachy! & mxmtoon

best friend - laufey

let me down slowly - alec benjamin

anxiety - blackbear & FRND

training wheels - melanie martinez

like or like like - miniature tigers

would you be so kind - dodie

i like me better - lauv

nothing - bruno major

paper rings - taylor swift

puppy princess - hot freaks

i wanna be your boyfriend - hot freaks

let's fall in love for the night - FINNEAS

every summertime - NIKI

cloud 9 - beach bunny

wish you were gay - billie eilish

wish you were sober - conan gray

the king - conan gray

sports - beach bunny

say you won't let go - james arthur

fight or flight - conan gray

are you bored yet? - wallows & clairo

heather - conan gray

cruel summer - taylor swift

comfort crowd - conan gray

lemon boy - cavetown

apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

can i call you tonight? - dayglow

this is home - cavetown

everybody talks - neon trees

someone to you - BANNERS

i love you - billie eilish

this side of paradise - coyote theory

mystery of love - sufjan stevens

always forever - cults

silence - marshmello & khalid

safe & sound (taylor's version) - taylor swift, joy williams & john paul white

safe and sound - capital cities

sweet tooth - cavetown

astronomy - conan gray

me and my husband - mitski

my love mine all mine - mitski

as the world caves in - sarah cothran

strawberries & cigarettes - troye sivan

pierre - ryn weaver

eyes closed - ed sheeran

perfect - ed sheeran

photograph - ed sheeran

can't help falling in love - elvis presley

talk to me - cavetown

we fell in love in october - girl in red

hey there delilah - plain white t's

crush culture - conan gray

for him. - troye sivan & allday

make you mine - PUBLIC

loving is easy - rex orange county & benny sings

i hear a symphony - cody fry

daylight - taylor swift

wildest dreams (taylor's version) - taylor swift

juliet - cavetown

this is what falling in love feels like - JVKE

this is what heartbreak feels like - JVKE

what was i made for? - from "barbie" - billie eilish

reflections - the neighbourhood

oh no! - MARINA

cabo - ricky montgomery

partners in crime - set it off & ash costello

it took me by surprise - maria mena

seventeen - MARINA

this december - ricky montgomery

never ever getting rid of me - waitress original broadway cast

guys dont like me - it boys!

deja vu - olivia rodrigo

drivers license - olivia rodrigo

1 step forward, 3 steps back - olivia rodrigo

bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo

teenage dream - olivia rodrigo

meant to be yours - ryan mccartan, barrett wilbert weed & michelle duffy

verbatim - mother mother

lovers rock - TV girl

lover - taylor swift

freaks - surf curse

electric love - BØRNS

sure thing - miguel

ribs - lorde

sofia - clairo

boys will be bugs - cavetown

i wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red

people watching - conan gray

as the world caves in - matt maltese

two birds - regina spektor

i can't handle change - roar

cardigan - taylor swift

pretty boy - the neighbourhood

cigarette daydreams - cage the elephant

history hates lovers - oublaire

numb little bug - em beihold

where's my love - SYML

dark red - steve lacy

heart to heart - mac demarco

chamber of reflection - mac demarco

for the first time - mac demarco

my kind of woman - mac demarco

kids - current joys

christmas kids - roar

10 things i hate about you - leah kate

boyfriend - dove cameron

my blood - twenty one pilots

my blood - ellie goulding

drumming song - florence + the machine

you belong with me (taylor's version) - taylor swift

sparks fly (taylor's version) - taylor swift

enchanted (taylor's version) - taylor swift

i knew you were trouble (taylor's version) - taylor swift

all too well (10 minute version - taylor's version) - taylor swift

don't blame me - taylor swift

gorgeous - taylor swift

bags - clairo

open arms - SZA & travis scott

all i wanted - paramore

the great war - taylor swift

i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

afterglow - taylor swift

you get me so high - the neighbourhood

runaway runaway - lullaby layla & keevin

the night we met - lord huron

watercolor eyes - from "euphoria" - lana del rey

late night talking - harry styles

shameless - camila cabello

those eyes - new west

here with me - d4vd

golden hour - JVKE

what a time - julia michaels & niall horan

we belong together - ritchie valens

can't take my eyes off you - frankie valli

i like you (a happier song) - post malone & doja cat

sweater weather - the neighbourhood

K. - cigarettes after sex

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

until i found you - stephen sanchez & em beihold

loverboy - a-wall

set fire to the rain - adele

mrs magic - strawberry guy

je te laisserai des mots - patrick watson

rises the moon - liana flores

last dance - scratch massive & maud geffray

crush - cigarettes after sex

trust fund baby - why don't we

hooked - why don't we

jenny (i wanna ruin our friendship) - studio killers

not another song about love - hollywood ending

the red means i love you - madds buckley

i won't say (i'm in love) - disney cast from "hercules"

first love/late spring - mitski

love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse

stereo hearts - gym class heroes & adam levine

did i mention - cast from "descendants"

bad romance - lady gaga

sunsetz - cigarettes after sex

still into you - paramore

i kissed a boy - jupither

bang bang (new version) - K'NAAN & adam levine

dress - taylor swift

midnight rain - taylor swift

baby i'm yours - arctic monkeys

falling - chase atlantic

say yes to heaven - lana del rey

cry - cigarettes after sex

sweet - cigarettes after sex

my type - saint motel

they don't know about us - one direction

something just like this - the chainsmokers & coldplay

no one compares to you - jack & jack

yellow hearts - ant saunders

if we have each other - alec benjamin

hey stupid, i love you - JP saxe

if i saw him, i'd still kiss him - mccafferty

i love you like an alcoholic - the taxpayers

i am falling for you - loving caliber

dream boy - waterparks

disaster - conan gray

@ my worst - blackbear

golden - harry styles

start a riot - BANNERS

i love you - woodkid

maniac - conan gray

there is more in the spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/08jACx5UDxnojbTv4I5NR0

if you have any other recommendations for songs please let me know and they will go straight into the playlist. also, please don't be disrespectful and this is a reminder that these are my opinions, i hope that you enjoy the playlist!! ❤️🧡💋

#kiribaku #bakushima #katsuki #katsuki bakugou #baku #bakugou katsuki #kiri #kirishima eijirou #my hero #my hero academia #boku no #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #headcanons #gay #i ship these two so hard

25 notes · View notes

lakemojave · 24 days

Text

Tonight at 6pm Pacific: The Direct Actors, a Baldur's Gate 3 "Adventure" ep. 13!

For those who may have missed last week's episode, welcome! Everything is totally fine and normal in the party this week. The party is doing great, the quest is doing great, and the fabric of space and time is doing great! Come see @radiofreederry play Dhudlei Durite, elf paladin, my friends Nana and April play Leviathan, Dragonborn Dark Urge Monk, @caputvulpinum play Micah Harper, Tiefling Cleric, and me play Delilah "Mama D" Harper, Halfling Bard!

Art by @terrafey, recap under the cut. See y'all then!

twitch_live

THE STORY SO FAR: On the way to a union rally, Delilah "Mama D" Harper and her grandson Micah were abducted and taken aboard an ilithid nautiloid, which they escaped with mysterious dancer Leviathan and self-proclaimed "Champion of Ilmater and Paladin of Good" Dhudlei Durite. Each infected by a mind flayer tadpole, but so far immune from transforming into mind flayers themselves, The Direct Actors, as the party have come to be known, now turn their attention to the Shadow-Cursed Lands, where Moonrise Towers, the lair of the Cult of the Absolute, awaits them...

LAST TIME: Jesus Christ where to fucking start.

After returning to Halsin with the lute of Art Cullagh, the archdruid finally determined a way to recover Thaniel, the spirit of the land, who held the key to breaking the shadow curse. Halsin entered the Shadowfell, leaving the Direct Actors behind to guard the portal. After a clash with shadow cursed creatures and people on the lakeshore, in which Dhudlei gave a taste of his full power, Thaniel was recovered.

Back at camp, while Halsin determined next steps, Lae'zel awoke Dhudlei from his slumber, and admitted that her feelings for him had grown deep and abiding, and the two engaged in ritual combat to seal their bond as official romantic partners. In the morning, Halsin tasked the party with seeking out Thaniel's other half, which they found in an abandoned shack in the shadow-cursed lands. After a deadly game of hide and seek and a battle in a courtyard, the Direct Actors were able to convince Thaniel's other half to return where it belonged. The party then descended into Ketheric Thorm's secret shrine to Shar, where Micah used his devotion to Ilmater to trick his way through a series of Sharran tests, before the party fought their way out against a set of animated armor.

After a return to camp, Thaniel informed the Direct Actors that for the curse to be fully lifted, Ketheric Thorm must be killed. Dhudlei encouraged Micah about his newfound faith in Ilmater, and Leviathan chastised Dhudlei about his continued reticence in talking to Micah about their relationship. On the way back to the inn, the party passed through Reithwin Tollhouse, where Leviathan talked the undead tax collector Gerringothe Thorm to death.

Back at the inn, Mama D shared a drink with Jaheira who directed the party upstairs, where it was revealed that Dhudlei's goddaughter Isobel was still alive. The party rescued her and the inn from an attack by Absolute cultists, but after the battle was finished Leviathan gave into his dark urge, attacking and killing Isobel and dooming everyone in the inn to death. As Dhudlei killed Leviathan in vengeance for his goddaughter and held off the newly shadow-cursed dwellers at the inn, Micah fled back to camp with Mama D, where he employed the powers of New Gale to reset the timeline, with only Micah and Mama D remembering what had happened. Micah managed to keep Leviathan away from Isobel in time to save her life, and the party returned to camp.

Mama D and Micah had a talk about what had happened, before Dhudlei discussed his previous companions and their mortality with Micah. Dhudlei confessed that he had grown to care for both Lae'zel and Micah, and extended an invitation for Micah to travel with him after their adventure concluded, which Micah accepted. However, despite promising no secrets between them, Micah did not tell Dhudlei what had happened before the timeline was reset.

That night, Leviathan's butler appeared and commanded the dragonborn to kill Wyll to make up for sparing Isobel. However, Leviathan resisted his urge and his bloodthirsty other half, and the party emerged from the night unscathed. In the morning, Leviathan intimidated Micah, who had witnessed everything, into staying quiet, with both halves of Leviathan seemingly fighting one another for control...

Will Leviathan be able to keep his urge in check? What other dangers remain in the shadow-cursed lands? Will Micah tell Dhudlei the truth? What awaits our heroes at Moonrise Towers? Find out in another exciting installment of Baldur's Gate 3, starring the Direct Actors!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the direct actors #twitch #stream #shameless plugging

14 notes · View notes

starchildghost · 9 days

Text

every word I say is kindling (but the smoke clears when you're around) - a Laudna/Imogen au set in-universe. also on ao3. the Raven Queen has set into motion a meeting between the vessel of Delilah Briarwood and the woman raised to release Predathos; will they be able to save themselves?

this is chapter 1/3 - about 2,775 words into what comes out to a little over 8,600 (subject to change because I keep rewriting the ending). I intend to post a chapter a weekend until you've seen it all. cw for this chapter: canon compliance with Laudna's backstory and the Sun Tree

All of Exandria stretches out before you; or, rather, your version of Exandria. Your view is more than just landmasses and oceans, ruins and winds and giant beasts that are as large as the landmarks they guard. No, the Exandria that you see, that you keep unending tabs on, is one comprised of its people. You’ve always loved them; so much so that you abandoned your own name and your place among them, so that you could do this. So that you could be this.

Your Exandria is a kaleidoscope - constantly shifting, constantly drifting, always in motion just as its people are. Each of their decisions colors their path a little differently, every possibility shows itself to you, just as you knew it would. Exandria is a kaleidoscope, but it is one that you have shaped. The ever-shifting mass before you is one of threads that you have tied - sometimes they lengthen, sometimes their colors shift ever so slightly from the ones you placed there, but it is always as you expect them to. Golden threads connect families, connect friends, connect your heroes in love that pushes for the betterment of all humans, love that creates and heals and protects. Black threads bind those whose meetings will end in a soul being ferried away by you to where its final destination lies. Some souls, which are yours but are not yours, claimed instead by the Luxon, have thicker ropes that shine with a brilliant white light that tie them to the beacons they have bound themselves to. You don’t mind their intrusion - you hope one day both those souls and the Luxon will find the answers they seek, so you’re happy to return them to where they belong.

You know all too well the wearing on a soul that curiosity causes, after all.

Threads of all colors turn Exandria into the kaleidoscopic world on which you focus your attention, however. There are blue threads that show a sad bond, one that’s tinged by grief or longing for something that should be, but is not. Purple ties show a teacher and a student; of magic, of religion, of nature, even just someone who shows you the life you’d like to live - these bonds are peculiar and ever-shifting, but you’re particularly fond of their hue. Green bonds tend to be reserved for the caretakers, and often you watch them bloom into your golden ties. There are so many black threads on Exandria, and those who plant green ties around themselves tend to be the ones following in the wake of those black ties, picking up the people left behind by all of that death and destruction. There are dull colors; these are the bonds that are not meant to last: workers sharing a shift but not their lives, customers who frequent a shop but do not care to learn about those they buy from, a million little mundanities in one thread that will fray and fall apart as people move on from these parts of their lives they hardly care to pay attention to.

There are red threads, too, but you haven’t had to place one in a long time, and you will not do so. Not yet - if you place it too early, you’re confident that it will all fall apart, and so you bide your time.

The soul that has your interest today is that of Matilda Bradbury, a young human girl who is not aware what fate (what you) has in store for her.

Your heart aches, but you have not been human in a long time; this is what must be done, and so it will be. It is a different kind of grief, to have once been among them, and to now be removed from them so thoroughly that they do not know the name that your mother had given you; they only know the name you gave yourself. They do not know what your face looks like - you have only ever shown them a mask. You need this degree of separation in order to assign their fates as you must - you have only ever endeavored to care for them, even if that means spinning threads and tying them to their own demise.

Matilda’s threads are a shining golden and a gold that has tarnished, to take on a brassy, blue hue. It’s the mark of a relationship that has soured, that elicits a certain grief within her soul, but she does not understand why. The former is to her mother, and the latter to her father. There are a few dull threads that tie her to various classmates, one to the neighbor’s boy who thinks of her far less than she does of him, but they are largely unremarkable.

She’s just a little girl, and she is often bringing home birds: small, tragic things, that die in her hands even as she tries to use her blossoming magic to save them. Her mother’s hands are soft and kind and she uses her magic to heal the scrapes Matilda gets from the stiff plants in the fields as she twirls and fancies herself a lady - she doesn’t understand why her magic is different, why she can’t use it to help them. You take the time to ferry off the souls of each of the birds; you regift them their flight as you release them to the astral sea. This is the smallest of kindnesses you can give to Matilda, though she never sees your hands gently grab the bird from her own.

She buries them by a meadow, each and every time: she keeps a small, private graveyard, all her own.

You turn your attention away from Whitestone, for just long enough - the Briarwoods take over the city, leaving death in their wake, chasing the youngest son from the castle, off to his own destiny. As he runs, you take the time to tie his six golden threads to the now-strangers he runs toward.

Matilda is a young woman, now, though she hasn’t grown out of wanting her hands to be gentler than they are. She wishes to be a lady, to have magic of light and healing, but still all she produces are shadows. You must give her another shade: you tie a black thread between her and Delilah Briarwood.

Even as you watch, moments after tying it, the color begins to mutate, as you anticipated it would. The thread remains black, but it takes on a sickly, green hue as well, glowing as if it were radioactive. Every black thread that stems out from Delilah takes on this coloration, but you know none will glow so bright as Matilda’s.

Delilah fancies herself a goddess, or at least she thinks she will be able to raise one and rule in its wake. You know the truth: gods must be anonymous if they are to succeed, and she will never reach that stage of humility. Delilah would think all of her black threads are string that she uses to pull on puppets that she’s constructed, puppets for her to control; you know that, in Matilda’s case, the thread will wrap around both of their throats in the end.

That deed done, you allow yourself to turn, selfishly, to the man who will become your champion. He’s connected by six strongly pulsing golden threads, their light made all the more obvious by the eruption of black ties that surround him and branch all over the continent. He has scraped the symbol of a different goddess into his gloves, he reaches toward the light; he will be yours, in the end.

It doesn’t take long, especially for you, for whom time is but a nuisance and not something that must be counted or clung to. His sister falls, the thick rope that ties them falls loose, and he turns towards you. “Take me instead, you raven bitch.” You don’t mind the insult - you will have eternity with him to wear it away, just as his golden threads fall once you accept his bargain. He is among them but not of them; once he is here, he will be like you.

But you get ahead of yourself: this is Matilda’s story. The black thread between her and Delilah must fall away, and so it does. Delilah fancies herself a puppet master, a conductor, a director of others’ destinies; Matilda has a role to play.

You watch it all. It is the least you can do for the girl with gentle hands who brings you little birds.

If Matilda had her way, if her parents had been correct about the nature of Delilah Briarwood, there might have been a purple thread tying the two together. If Matilda were less naive, perhaps, or the farmers closer to the city, maybe she would have noticed an increase in the number of graves she had to dig, before the birds stopped coming near Whitestone altogether. If Matilda had never wandered close to the castle, if she had inherited her father’s hair color instead of her mother’s, if she had focused on her chores more than idolizing the ladies of the castle - there were a thousand little things that might have saved Matilda Bradbury’s life and kept her from this fate.

But saving Matilda Bradbury was not in the interest of saving the greater whole of Exandria, and so you had not plucked any strings that might have stopped this.

It is the least you can do, to witness her walk to the castle. She is alone, she wears her nicest dress, and she is nervous but looking forward to meeting the lord and lady. She had been told this was to celebrate new beginnings for Whitestone and for her, chosen especially to attend.

Matilda did not know how cruel that statement truly was.

Matilda thinks it is a kindness when they hand her a pretty new dress to wear. She begins to grow confused when they give her boots one would wear adventuring through the forest, but she was raised not to ask questions, especially not of people so far above her status. She hates the belts they cinch around her waist; they’re too tight, and she feels as if she cannot breathe, but still she will not complain. She believes this will make her mother and father proud, that it will bring her closer to them after acquiring such distance just by being herself. She believes this is in service of her future; it is in service of yours.

She does not cry out until a servant holds her down on the dinner table, the chef approaching her with his knife. It happens so fast: suddenly, she is grabbed and forced down, a young girl with black hair with a shock of white through it flees the table, and then she is bleeding from the left side of her head. The right side follows, and the servant’s hands release her with a rough shove - Matilda goes to run, to flee, but finds the only part of her running are the tears down her cheeks.

Delilah is smiling at her, her pupils alight with magic, holding Matilda in place.

Matilda Bradbury’s life ends at the Sun Tree, its name a hollow mockery in this Whitestone full of shadow. She has not made a sound since the chef marred her ears, and she will not make another - her vocal cords snap as the rope tightens around her throat.

Your eye turns to the tether between her and Delilah. The black color sheds away, falling off in scraps, leaving behind the dark purple of Delilah Briarwood’s magic and the sickly green of a rotting corpse. You close your eyes - it is an apology to Matilda, the only soul that you leave behind on that tree as you collect the rest, but it is the only way. She will become something the mortals claim you hate, something unnatural, but how could you hate her when you elected for this to happen? It is the only way. You were human, once, and you are selfish just as humans are; you will wield this girl as a shield, use her for your own machinations, because you deem it necessary.

Your not-yet champion comes to Whitestone, his golden threads not yet fallen away, still pulsing the brightest with his sister, who gets a glimpse of Matilda. You tie a new thread: another blue amongst Vex’ahlia’s many, connecting her to Matilda. It isn’t much solace for the girl you let die, that you have fated for much worse, but it ensures that the future Lady of Whitestone will remember the girl who looked like her and died for it; it ensures that Whitestone will be rebuilt for all of its people - it will become a bastion of Sun once again.

You stay with Matilda, in the quiet of the dead; your not-yet champion and his chosen family do not take long to set Delilah off. She sends a flash of green, necrotic energy across the whole city, wrenching up all of the seeds she planted in the years she choked the life from Whitestone.

Corpses claw their way out of the roads, out of gardens, pushing up the earth; a mass of bodies clamors to stand at the base of the Sun Tree, to push their way to the heroes who would dare interrupt Delilah. Underneath the castle, you feel them move, hundreds of bodies trapped in walls twitching towards an unholy end.

Matilda, no longer Matilda, wakes up.

So do the other soulless beings tied beside her. They, along with every other corpse in Whitestone, begin to hiss and claw, all focused on the group who will see the end of this iteration of Delilah Briarwood. Beside the body that was once Matilda, a corpse of a little boy with a neck bent further than her own chews through the rope that restrains him; he falls onto a mass of other bodies, and the sound would be sickening if you had the capacity for it.

If Matilda is your shield for the future, Vox Machina is your spear right now; they will handle this outrage Delilah wrought. The boy’s soul is already yours, already gone - the thing that struggles with the other corpses is not him at all.

Matilda, on the other hand, very much possesses her own soul, though her mind is no longer just her own and her future never was.

She does not gasp awake - it will be a long time before it does not hurt to force air through her throat. Her eyes, now completely black, widen as her hands fly to the rope around her neck. Those she died with have left their nooses behind, mostly ripped through with their teeth. Matilda catches sight of them below, clawing their way to help the woman who killed them, and she stops moving altogether as she puts together the pieces of what has happened to her. She does not take a deep breath to steel herself.

She uses her nails to tear at the rope. It doesn’t take long for her hands to become bloody with the last red she will ever bleed; understandably, she does not notice. Eventually, she makes it through, and she drops to the ground with a very loud crack. Her groan is different from that of the other corpses, though she is the only one of them to notice.

They go towards the castle; she runs away from it, as fast as her stiff legs will carry her. She does not stop until she reaches the graveyard she spent all her life tending; here, too, the soil is loose and shifted as Delilah’s magic moved the skeletons Matilda had lovingly laid here. Matilda kneels in front of flowers that had been thrown into the dirt.

She picks up a skull that the skeletal birds had left behind; it was that of a raven, an incomplete little fellow that had been missed by Delilah’s magic. You give what gifts you can, after all. Matilda cradles it, runs her bloody thumb along the forehead to soothe herself.

Matilda rises from the soil in her graveyard as Laudna, a name she will find and bestow upon herself. Delilah will not find her quite yet; your not-yet champion will cut her tethers and whittle her down until Laudna is all she has left, and for now, your business with her is finished.

Across the world, in a little farming town, a storm is brewing: a baby girl is about to be born, and you have a fate laid out for her.

#critical role #cr 3 #cr3 #laudna #imogen temult #southerngothic #southern gothic #imodna #laudnogen #cr fic #imodna fic #i do hope you like this i recognize it's a weird one #but nonetheless #I really enjoyed finishing it finally #so i felt I could share it

10 notes · View notes

rex101111 · 1 year

Text

I’m thinking about Anji and Asuka interactions again, cause like man looking back, that short while must have been fucking wild. Anji partnered up with the guy responsible for his home being a hole in the ocean, and he just did not care. Hell, he was relatively fresh off of stealing Zessen, which was powering a force field around the colony he was living in. He probably rationalized it as the two of them being just as bad, he shoved aside whatever negative feeling he might have had so he could work with Asuka more easily. So he could do all that shady shit and still sleep at night.

Everyone talks about how brutal and bloody Baiken was in X and XX, but our boy Anji was just as bad. Remember that one ending where he trapped I-no in a crystal because she was going against Asuka’s orders? Cold blooded. So he probably figured that he didn’t have the right to be angry at Asuka, cause, really, what did That Man do to Anji specifically? Especially since Anji ain’t even a real name, a real person. No victims involved.

And then, Baiken. Then he meets Baiken, and he gets attached. And suddenly, Anji can’t be flippant or flighty, can’t shove aside everything Asuka did. Can’t work with him anymore, can’t stomach being his knife in the shadow anymore.

He sees first hand the effects of Asuka’s actions, on a person he grows to deeply care for. So he quits. Which is mildly weird to think about because how the fuck do you just walk out on the fucking Gear Maker?

Asuka just. let him leave. Anji walked away with Baiken and that was that. No sending I-no to hunt him down, no magic bullshit to pull him into his Boss’s Office Dimension to discuss severance pay, nothing.

Until, of course, he catches wind of Ariels’ plan. Then all he has to do is call up Anji, make sure he knows what’s at stake, and Mito can’t run away from him anymore.

So, they’ve worked together, done horrible shit together, fucked each other over in equally severe ways. Anji knows he doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to being moral, or any kind of “good person”, he knows that shit is complicated.

So he laughs it off (because its funny in a cosmic sort of way), asks Asuka if he’s up to something (because that’s what Asuka does, isn’t it? Scheme?) and to let him in on it (and Anji schemes too, all the damn time), and calls him handsome (because his face doesn’t have a scratch of age on it, his face doesn’t belong to him, it belonged to a quiet little scientist who wanted his friends to be happy forever. Not the Devil), and that’s the end of it.

Anji pushed Baiken away from pursuing Asuka as much for his own sake as for hers and Delilah.

Sol and Asuka may have the deeper history, but Asuka and Anji turn each other into fucking monsters.

It’s like pouring gasoline onto lit thermite.

God that is so fucked up. Wish Strive didn’t try to Good Boy-ify Asuka as hard as it did. Would have been interesting to see those sparks fly around.

(Anji Mito doesn’t exist anymore than Asuka R. Kreutz does. One was spun out of thin air, the other has been rotting in the ground for over a century now.

What a match made in the Backyard, eh?)

#Guilty Gear #asuka r. kreutz #Anji mito #if daisuke doesn't make asuka fucked up me and izzy will pick up the slack

58 notes · View notes

m1dn1ght-lag00n · 2 months

Text

Motivations

Blotwald belongs to @hatred-n-hav0c

Blotwald fic

Wisteria pushed herself up with her fist, her vision blurry as she faded in and out of consciousness. If she were to lose consciousness, who’d get Mickey to help stop her dad? That’s the thought that got her going, getting herself on her feet, despite her limp.

Her alerted senses fueled by adrenaline numbed the pain of her worse broken nose and newly injured leg. She hadn’t had much time to compose herself before she knew she needed to run. Although tripping over her feet, she’d manage across the castle floor.

She’d get to the throne room to only run into one tiny problem. The lackeys. They’d most likely alert her ‘dad’ and she couldn’t have that, so she found a broken pipe laying around and started plowing through them. Eventually, she had made her way out of the castle, the only issue remaining was her bleeding. It wasn’t fatal, but it’d surely make her lose consciousness if not taken care of.

Delilah, on the other hand was not as lucky as Wisteria, as she was actually being hunted down by Oswald. She knew the consequences of being found and was a bit worried. But he didn’t know what she knew. Her reason to even consider attempting to kill her best friend. She had a heart. Their key to getting out of the wrenched place Oswald called his kingdom.

But she knew darn well that Oswald wouldn’t have the sense to listen. That blot already took over a lot of his mind, like it had her own.

She knew that this would be her end….

#blotwaldau #blotwald #my fic #au #wisteria the cabbit #delilah kitty #oswald the lucky rabbit #epic mickey au #epic mickey oc #epic mickey

8 notes · View notes

mintywolf · 3 months

Text

A Long Road Home - Page 56 Author Notes

Page 56

Cling to Life lets Laudna regain 1 hp on a 16 or higher death save, as opposed to Strength of the Grave which allows her to remain at 1 hp instead of 0 after a successful CON save. Since the former is a Hollow One ability and therefore a "gift" from Delilah whose intervention we are witnessing, mechanically, that's what just happened.

So okay in my original draft (right up until the time I was working on the first page in fact since that’s when the Gelvaan episode aired, by coincidence) Imogen unambiguously killed the ex-sheriff. Then in that episode (48) Imogen asks about the aftermath of the fight and Relvin confirms that everyone survived:

MATT: "You and your friends probably shouldn't stay too long. Some folks around here that don't have the fondest memories of your exit." LAURA: Are they okay? MATT: "They got better, but--" LAURA: Good. MATT: "The tales have certainly grown with time. At a certain point, they just stopped listening to me."

And let me tell you I was vibrating with anxiety that entire episode because I was FOUR DAYS from launching the comic after months of work and preparation when they just happened to decide to go to the precise setting of it in that week’s episode. I’m still kind of amazed at how lucky I was that there were only a few small discrepancies to reconcile. (One being the physical description of Relvin, which was easy to fix, two being that Flora doesn’t actually live with the Temults and might not actually belong to them, which I just let slide, and three being that everyone survived the incident that caused them to leave town.)

But I think it works better this way because Imogen already has a LOT to process right now. She has to leave her home and go on the run, someone tried to kill her pets, she saw Laudna apparently die, then un-die and turn into a spooky monster, previously unknown lightning powers just erupted out of her hands and carved themselves into her skin, and the barn is on fire. (And she just got over a bad case of scarlet fever like three days ago.) There isn’t really space in the story right now for her to stop and come to terms with having taken a life, even of someone who deserved it.

(Also it makes something that happens near the end of chapter 3 much more impactful if she’s never killed anyone before.)

So by now Imogen has been presented with pretty solid evidence that there is something Not Quite Right with Laudna. She has definitely heard the accusations (spoken and unspoken) by the people in town but she hasn’t been able to bring herself to believe that the most loving and vivacious person she’s ever met could be undead. She’s also been kind of digging in her heels about it because acknowledging that she’s really dead would mean accepting that the people of Gelvaan are right about her (and then maybe also about herself). Allowing her deadness to be true also means knowing that something awful must have happened in the past to make her that way, and she’s not ready to confront that just yet. She will have to soon, though.

Right now though her foremost concern isn’t that she might be a monster but that she’s had a hole punched in her.

#a long road home #author notes

19 notes · View notes

captain-melloartblog · 4 months

Text

Hey guys so like I’m very cringe and yes I ship him and he in poly ship with my oc Delilah and my friend oc (btw I also like Alex x Desmond too that’s good one) anyways Delilah isn’t a prototype oc but oc for my own thing, I just like idea crossover ship chhcvh forgive 😔 for being cringe, literally when these two first met, he try kill her which very in character for Alex honestly 😂😂😂 Delilah opposite of him since she given ability involve healing and controlling nature so I like idea opposite couples because why not

Art and oc belongs to me aka @captain-melloartblog

#my art #my oc #prototype fanart #prototype the game #prototype alex mercer #Alex Mercer x oc #[[prototype]]#prototype 2009 #oc x canon #sorry for being cringe #prototype alex mercer fanart #alex mercer fanart #alex mercer

16 notes · View notes

battyaboutbooksreviews · 3 months

Text

🦇 One Last Stop Book Review 🦇

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

❓ #QOTD If you could live in a different time and place, when and where would you choose? ❓ 🦇 August expects moving to New York will only prove her cynicism right. The only way to live is to do it alone. That is, until a mysterious girl on the train hands her a scarf, sparking not only a major subway crush on the Q, but an adventure that will alter August's perspective of the world forever.

💜 Oh. My. Goddess. This book. THIS BOOK. This book hit me like a freight train (yes, yes, I see the pun). It's been a month since I read it because I couldn't find the words...I still can't. But I'll try. 💜 This. Book. Why did NO ONE tell me about this book?! 💜 From page one, this book is a childhood friend reaching out and tugging you into a warm, solid embrace before lifting you off your feet, spinning you around, and causing the word to blur. Casey McQuiston's narration is familiar, inviting, intimate. I couldn't stop annotating. August is raw and vulnerable and real, but still figuring out who she is away from her mother and messy childhood. We're only lucky enough to discover the woman she is alongside her. 💜 I don't want to spoil this story for anyone who hasn't read it yet, because there's a moment that changes EVERYTHING -- the genre, the plot, August, EVERYTHING. It's executed so well that I still feel the impact. WHY am I tearing up writing a review for this a MONTH later?! 💜 The underlying messages in this story are so heavy and impactful, yet written with such ease and grace and respect. There's: 🚇 Beautiful representation and discussion about virginity 🚇 Kisses for evidence-gathering 🚇 Exploration into New York's queer history 🚇 A Chinese lesbian displaced during the 70s 🚇 Lost memory 🚇 HIV/AIDs activists 💜 Beyond that, there's a beautiful sapphic ship, quirky cast of queer side characters, and sense of found family that's beyond heart-warming. I'm completely onboard for whatever Casey McQuiston has planned next.

💜 Literary Awards: 🚇 ALA Alex Award Nominee (2022) 🚇 Goodreads Choice Award Nominee for Romance (2021) 🚇 RUSA CODES Reading List for Romance (2022) 🚇She Reads Best of Award Nominee for Romance (2021)

🦇 Recommended for all readers; namely fans of Delilah Green Doesn't Care, She Gets the Girl, and Imogen, Obviously. This book is absolute magic. I read this in February but I can already say it's one of my top reads for the year. Yes, I'm still tearing up. What is wrong with me?

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🩷 Queer Found Family 🚇 Bisexual FMC 🩷 Diverse Cast 🏙️ Coming-of-Age 🩷 Sapphic Ship 🚝 Smut 🩷 Sci-Fi Twist

💬 Quotes ❝ Truth is, when you spend your whole life alone, it’s incredibly appealing to move somewhere big enough to get lost in, where being alone looks like a choice. ❞ ❝ August looks at her as the train reverses past Gravesend rooftops, this girl out of time, the same face and body and hair and smile that took August’s life by the shoulders in January and shook. And she can’t believe Jane had the nerve, the audacity, to become the one thing August can’t resist: a mystery. ❞ ❝ "Your friendly smile of acceptance—from the safe position of heterosexuality,’” Jane reads aloud, “‘isn’t enough. As long as you cherish that secret belief that you are a little bit better because you sleep with the opposite sex, you are still asleep in your cradle … and we will be the nightmare that awakens you.’” ❞ ❝ August laughs and wants so badly to know what it feels like to show off the person who’s yours from across the crowd...Maybe what she really wants is to be the person across the crowd who belongs to someone. ❞ ❝ “The attraction between you two is literally a spark, and it’s the same spark that’s bringing her back into reality." ❞ ❝ “I fell in love with you the day I met you, and then I fell in love with the person you remembered you are. I got to fall in love with you twice. That’s—that’s magic. You’re the first thing I’ve believed in since—since I don’t even remember, okay, you’re—you’re movies and destiny and every stupid, impossible thing, and it’s not because of the fucking train, it’s because of you. It’s because you fight and you care and you’re always kind but never easy, and you won’t let anything take that away from you. You’re my fucking hero, Jane. I don’t care if you think you’re not one. You are.” ❞

#one last stop #casey mcquiston #books #queer books #sapphic books #book lovers #sapphic romance #queer fiction #ya books #young adult romance #young adult books #young adult fiction #young adult #batty about books #battyaboutbooks #book review #book reviews #book: one last stop #author: casey mcquiston

7 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

pettersimons

Sem título

riadelva

Delvas Home

kathrynminucci

kathryn minucci

cadenzaii

There go my marbles...

specter-six

Specter's Art