#1899 masterlist

[eykismyfav]

I am sorry if I sound rude or something, I just wanted to ask if you have any Olek fanfic in the making. And maybe if you will upload it soon? There is nothing out there and I am waiting eagerly 😇

Hi lovely! Your question is not rude at all I am happy you asked. Okay here is the thing no I at the moment do not have an Olek oneshot in the making…but if I were to get a request, I could write it tonight. I am a person who has anxiety about writing things when I’m not seeing a lot of interaction with works I make for a certain show. I love writing requests so if you have ideas for an Olek fic I would be more than happy to write it. Same for Clémence or Eyk. 

[thatsatricky1]

𝕋𝕍 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

- 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕦𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝔼𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕖

Nothing has been requested yet…

- ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙

Nothing has been requested yet…

- ℙ𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕪 𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕞𝕒𝕟

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣

Nothing has been requested yet…

- 𝟙𝟠𝟡𝟡

Nothing has been requested yet…

●

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

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A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

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Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ‘tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How much luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone’s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoken out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

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Tagged: @darkflowerav

[prettyundeadgirl]

Strange Trails - the series

This series is based on the album Strange Trails by Lord Huron and is heavily inspired by the lovely and talented @ichorai go check hers out!!

All Arthur Morgan because I think the vibe of this album fits him perfectly. These oneshots aren't connected in any way unless you want them to be. Hope you enjoy! :)

AO3 link | Masterlist

Tracklist:

I - Love Like Ghosts (1.0k) → Within the night, an inebriated Arthur returns. You take care of him, and when morning arrives, he realizes how in love he really is.

II - Until the Night Turns → Arthur couldn't keep his eyes off you during Sean's return party.

III - Dead Man's Hand → Sustaining injuries from a violent altercation in Valentine, you patch him up.

IV - Hurricane (Johnnie's Theme) → A raging storm causes a change in your hunting plans with him, and you both stay in the quaint hotel in Strawberry.

V - La Belle Fleur Sauvage → While spending time with Arthur, he finds himself in awe and fills his journal with drawings of you.

VI - Fool for Love → It was the small moments in which Arthur knew he'd never find another like you. A fool for love he surely was.

VII - The World Ender → You'd spent your days worrying for Arthur after his kidnapping, and upon his return you remained by his side.

VIII - Meet Me in the Woods → The sheriff's daughter and a brutal outlaw. It was something you never imagined.

IX - The Yawning Grave → During the shootout in Shady Belle, you were unlucky in reaching the house in time.

X - Frozen Pines → Separated from the gang after Blackwater, he spends his time searching for you, praying you're alive and desperate to reunite with you.

XI - Cursed → A failed robbery leads to a chase through Saint Denis.

XII - Way out There → You and Arthur get lost trying to collect a debt, and with the sun setting, you spend the night together.

XIII - Louisa → A glimpse into your life with Arthur after the events of 1899.

XIV - The Night We Met → It had been months since you left the gang in fear for your safety, and he visits you in your home to say goodbye, looking different from when you'd last seen him.

[pitchsidestories]

Alex Scott's daughter (2) II Leah Williamson x Reader

"The feeling that I'm losing her forever And without really entering her world I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter That funny little girl Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute." ~ ABBA, Slipping Through My Fingers

part 1 I arsenal women masterlist I word count: 1899

Thanks for your lovely feedback on part 1. We hope you enjoy part two aswell and what a better day to upload the oneshot when on Alex Scott birthday. ❤️

Alex Scott was buzzing with excitement. Even though she was the one who would stay at home tonight. She leaned at the bathroom door and watched you get ready in the mirror. Once again, she announced; “This is so exciting.“ “Mum, calm down. I’m just Leahs plus one at an event.“, you rolled your eyes with a slight smile because to be honest, it was kind of adorable. “Still!“, she replied. With a sigh, you gave up brushing your hair and turned to your mum; “Will you help me get ready?“ She seemed genuinely surprised but also very flattered by your request; “Do you want me to?“ “Yes, please. You always look so beautiful.“, you replied, handing her the brush. “

Aw, thank you, dear. Let me start with your hair.“, she smiled brightly and moved you to the edge of the bath tub, so you could sit while she did your hair. “Thanks.“ “Sit still.“, she reminded you with feigned sternness. “Fine.“, you gave in and let your mum brush your hair in peace. After a while of enjoyable silence, Alex gazed at the clock; “So, when is Leah going to pick you up?“ “In an hour. Thats enough time, right?“, you answered, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. Pensively, she tilted her head to the side; “Maybe. Do you have your outfit planned?“ “I thought about wearing a dress.“, you stated. From the reflection in the mirror you could see your mums eyes start to sparkle; “Which colour?“ “Black.“ She nodded once, satisfied with your choice; “Alright, that’s good. That leaves us some options for the make up.“ “Leah will wear a beige suit if that helps.“, you added, laughing as your mum grimaced. “It doesn’t. I want to make you look good, not her.“

Your laughter got quieted by Alex, pulling your hair into a tight bun on top of your head; “Ouch.“ “Stop whining.“ “That hurts more than crashing into Jen in training!“, you complained with a grin. The former football player kept pulling on your hair; “Oh please.“ “True story.“ “It’s not true.“, she replied as she took your chin and pulled out two strands to frame your face. Satisfied she examined her work, while you crossed your arms in front of your chest; “It’s!“ “Beauty is pain.“, your mum stated amused and started to apply your make up. “But you always make it look so easy.“

When it was finally time for you to put your black dress on you felt the look of the older woman looking moved by the way you looked tonight. Still, you could not help yourself, bit your lip and asked innocently:” What do you think? How do I look?” “You look gorgeous.”, Alex kissed your cheek carefully, so she did not ruin the makeup underneath. Gratefully you pressed her hand, and you hoped the brunette would feel what you tried to express: “Thanks for your help.” “I’m a little bit sad.”, the former football player confessed smiling. Indeed, you caught her swiping away a tear. Noticing this, you felt your throat tightening: “Oh no, why?” “That you’re going somewhere with Leah but not with me.”, Alex told you. Empathetically you stroked her arm: “Oh mum.” “I think Leah’s here.”, your mum changed the subject, on her lips a brave smile.

Excited Leah turned to one of her oldest friends: “Hi, is she ready?” “Yes. Come on, dear, your date’s here.”, the older woman turned to you. From the bathroom you shouted: “Coming!” In a minute you were standing in front of them: “Lee, you look gorgeous.”  The blonde defender was looking stunned at you:” What? Oh, thanks, so do you.” The arsenal player was used to getting compliments, but your look made her breathless.  “Stop drooling for my daughter, Leah!”, Alex mocked her. Even that did not stop Leah from pointing out:“ Look how beautiful she looks.” “Yes, I helped her, can’t believe that’s my baby!”, the former player squeaked.

Embarrassed you searched for your girlfriend’s hand: “Mum! Leah, it’s time to go.” “Yes, come on, we can’t be late.”, she agreed much to your relief. Happily you waved at the tv sports presenter:“Bye Mum.” “I’ll have her home by midnight. Promise.”, Leah said to her friend. Jokingly Alex replied:” I hope so.” “Bye Alex.”

Before you two were out of the door your mum yelled: “By the way she can stay past midnight too that would make me personally very proud.” As you got into the car, your cheeks were red: “Typical Mum.” “I wasn’t planning on getting you home before midnight anyway.”, the blonde confessed smirking. A cheeky grin appeared on your lips:“You did not hmm?” “No, I lied.”, the defender chuckled. Winking you told her:“Yeah but you were very convincing in the role as the respectable boyfriend.”“Yeah, I’m good at that.“, Leah laughed, hinting at the time a magazine mistook her for Alex’ boyfriend. “You are.“, you agreed, grinning.

As you realized that the cars in front of you had started to slow done, you nervously checked the time on your phone: “Do you think we should park somewhere here and walk the rest? We might be faster that way.“ “Why not stay in here? I think we’ll find something to do in the meantime.“, Leah smirked, sliding one hand on your bare knee. Laughing, you pushed her off of you; “Babe, we Lionesses have to present an award. We cannot not come.“ “Not our fault that we’re stuck in traffic.“, she replied, blinking innocently at you. “You can do anything you want later.“, you promised her with a wink. You leaned over to your girlfriend and kissed her passionately as you finally reached your destination. You both got out of the car.

Grabbing Leahs hand, you started to jog to the event. “We’ll just get you another run in on your road to recovery.“, you laughed. A little out of breath, you arrived right on time. Before stepping on the red carpet together, your girlfriend stopped you; “Wait!“ “Alright?“, you turned to her in surprise. The defender silently wiped a bit of your lipstick away that had smudged during the kiss. She gave you a short nod; “Ready?“ “Ready.“, you answered. “Let’s go then.“, Leah took your hand but you did not move. “Lee?“ “Yes?“ “Are you sure you want to be seen with me?“

The blonde football player immediately turned around, searching for your eyes; “I asked you to come with me, so yes. I am sure.“ You took a deep breath, sighing as you breathed out; “Okay.“ “Are you ready?“, she asked, furrowing her brows in worry. “I am.“, you confirmed, feeling your confidence slowly coming back. Leah smiled softly at you; “Let’s go then.“ Holding hands, you walked down the red carpet. Leah continued to tightly squeeze your hand for reassurance.

A journalist suddenly caught your attention, yelling the score of the Arsenal men game to your girlfriend; “Leah, Arsenal won!“ “Are you joking? Arsenal?“, she repeated excitedly. Turning to you, she asked; “Did you hear that?!“ “I did!“, you grinned, happier about Leahs enthusiasm then about the actual score.“That’s amazing.”, the defender couldn’t stop raving about it. “Oh yes.” “So proud of the boys.”, Leah hummed. Solemnly you promised her:“ Same. On the weekend we’ll win against villa too.” “Of course.”, the blonde grinned. “Promised.” Proudly Leah beamed at you: “I know you’ll.” To seal that promise you kissed her before saying:” Let’s go inside, shall we?” “Yes. We’re already late.”

It seems to be a reoccurring theme in the Scott family to run late. The matchday on Sunday was finally here and Leah and Alex were on their way to watch the game in the stands. “Shit, Lee, we need to hurry up. My girl is in the starting line!”, the former player swore loudly. Amused by one of her best friends the blonde replied:” And you’d be okay with being late if she wasn’t?” “No, but it might help us to get faster through the crowd.”, the brunette winked at her. Sceptical the England skipper replied: “Sure Alex.”

Despite her scepticism the words of the sports presenter helped them to get through the crowd faster. Satisfied Alex turned her head to the still playing Arsenal defender: “See? It works!” “Just sit down and watch the game.”, Leah answered with an eye roll. “Oh come on, can’t you admit that it helped us to get to our seats faster?” “Shh, they’re playing North London forever.”, the blonde whispered before starting to sing the song along with thousands of fans which made the usually calm and collected person she was turn into an emotional mess. Laughing the older woman apologized:“Sorry, nerd.” “As if you were any better.”, the younger defender commented giggling. Football was the way the friends had originally met and it still was one of the things they loved to share the most together. “I didn’t say I’m not one. The game is on.”

“I’m so nervous!”, Leah confessed, already biting her lip from the anticipation and excitement she felt. “Did you see that?”, the brunette cheered. Happily the blonde shouted:“Yes, girls!” As the Arsenal players on and off the pitch were celebrating their goal against villa in a full emirate’s stadium. A bright smile appeared on Alex’s lips: “That was amazing.” “Right?”, the England skipper asked, still feeling the rush of excitement as if she was on the pitch with her teammates who meant so much to her. In the second half it got even better for Arsenal as you scored an absolute banger of a goal much to the joy of the two women who were so dear to you. “Oh my god, she scored, Lee.”, the tv presenter told your girlfriend visibly thrilled.

“And what a goal!“, Leah gushed, barely able to stay in her seat. “It was stunning.“ Pointing down to you, your girlfriend laughed; “She can’t even believe it.“ Alex watched your surprised expression turn into a bright smile as you caught your team mates in a group hug; “To be fair, it doesn’t happen often to a defender as we know.“ “But if we score, we do it right.“, Leah added. Alex nodded along; “True though.“ When the game ended, Leah pushed out of her seat; “We have to celebrate with her.“ Alex followed suit; “Definitely.“

The two caught you as you left the pitch. “Mum, Lee, did you see that?“, you asked still in disbelief, your cheeks almost hurting from smiling. Alex pulled you into a tight hug, blowing a kiss on your temple; “You were so good tonight.“ “Your goal was amazing!“, Leah agreed, once your mum let go of you. Casually, she slipped a hand beneath your jawline and pulled you in for a kiss. You could have stayed in the moment forever, but the kiss was interrupted by Alex grimacing; “Ew!“ Leah rolled her eyes and you only gave a half-apologetic smile; “Sorry, mum.“ “No, it’s okay. I’m just joking.“, she replied, waving her hand for you two to go on. Instead, your girlfriend put her arm around you and looked at Alex; “Come on, girls. It’s time to celebrate.“ Happily, you let her pull you with her.

This night was about to be perfect. Not only did you score the game-winning goal but you also had your two favourite people with you.

[mandoalorian]

delicate

Pairing: High honour Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Summary: When Arthur and the gang are out in Valentine, you can’t help but notice that he left his journal by his bedside, unattended. You’re aware that Arthur is never careless enough to leave something so valuable to him in camp and see you see it as an opportunity. Upon reading his journal, you discover something that changes everything…

Word count: 2,000

Author’s note: My first Arthur fic! It’s been a long time coming. This is also cross-posted on my AO3. I do not consent to my fics being posted anywhere else, or translated without permission. If you enjoyed this fic please reblog as it helps increase support!<3

Masterlist 

You saw it as an opportunity.

Arthur, John, Micah, Javier and Sadie were out in Valentine, following Dutch’s well-convoluted plan to rob the local bank. They’d been gone for three hours already and with Micah part of the team, you dreaded to think how they were getting on. Dutch and Hosea had gone to scout out a manor northwest of Lemoyne, in Scarlet Meadows. Hosea was following a lead he’d heard from a guy at Emerald Ranch – that apparently, a well-off family were residing over there. An excellent opportunity for a cash grab, Dutch was also sure. Lately, any possibility of getting money, Dutch got excited over. You didn’t understand why because the ledger appeared more filled out than ever. Perhaps it was merely nothing more than a sin of greed, although you were in no position to question it. 

Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen were doing laundry as Miss Grimshaw supervised, and Miss Molly O’Shea was napping in Dutch’s cot. She’d been sleeping a lot recently, you’d noticed. Uncle was nowhere in sight, probably sleeping or drunk or getting himself killed by Raiders. And Abigail was with Jack, nursing him back to health as influenza he’d developed after your time in Colter hadn’t yet subsided. The camp was empty. Not a soul in sight.

There was a small crate in the corner of his tent and organised neatly atop was a framed photo of his mother Beatrice, a small vase of flowers that were native to New Hanover, and a beat-up leather journal that he kept close to his bedside. Arthur was so protective of his journal, you’d often tease him for it. Sometimes, you’d admire him from afar. After a hard day, he’d often sit by the lake, slumped against a tree, jotting down his thoughts or filling the pages with doodles of his ventures. 

And this time it was calling out to you.

You wondered why he hadn’t taken it with him. Had he really just ‘left’ it at camp? Forgot to put it in his satchel before he left this morning? You were hyper-aware that you’d more than likely never get this chance again. The curiosity was begging to be explored and you took one final glance around camp before slowly inching towards the crate by his bedside. Arthur’s tent was really just a canopy and once you were under you felt a pang of guilt in his heart. You shouldn’t be snooping around his business like this. He had done nothing to warrant you doing that.

It wasn’t malicious. It was harmless. Just a little peek…

You sat on the edge of Arthur’s cot and picked up the journal, feeling the worn leather between your fingers. Undoing the clasp, you pulled it open midway and were greeted with an illustration of a girl. It was the back of her, so there was no way of making out her face, but as you took a closer look at the pattern on her ranch boots, you couldn’t help but recognise the embroidered swirls and shapes. They were your ranch boots, and Arthur’s illustration was a depiction of you. It was dated noon, 5th July 1899, just a few weeks ago. It appeared to be a drawing from observation, and you were pictured helping Pearson put away an assortment of canned goods. 

It took a moment for it to dawn on you. He’d drawn you.

Now you were invested. You turned to the next page to see a verse of words:

‘Sometimes I wonder when she sleeps

Is she ever dreaming of me?

Sometimes when I look into her eyes

I pretend she’s mine all the damn time’

To the left of the words was another illustration of you but this one had a lot more detail. A delicate flower was placed in your hair and this time, you could see your face. You could see the shape of your nose and the creases in the corner of your eyes when you smiled. It had never been so clear. Your gaze flicked back towards the words as you reread them over and over again. Could they have really been about you?

Surely not. Arthur had never done anything to suggest that he’d had these feelings for you. As far as you were aware, he was still hung up on Miss Mary Linton. You’d never met her before. You’d only heard tales from Hosea, how Arthur was sweet on her and she broke his heart to the point he didn’t want to leave camp for days. You couldn’t imagine Arthur that way. You supposed that since then, he had changed, and maybe since meeting you, he’d changed again.

On the outside, Arthur was rough. His skin was sun kissed and his clothes were old, his boots were muddy and he could go months without shaving. You’d heard stories of his questionable temperance but with you, he was patient and soft and gentle. You’d seen him be kind around little Jack too, and that relationship spoke volumes since John was mostly absent from his son’s life. Arthur was a good influence on Jack. Hell, you could argue he was the best influence around camp in general. Although he was often gloomy and he would, on occasion, pick fights with Micah or Bill, you saw through that. He had a good heart, wether he believed it, that didn’t matter.

A loud cough interrupted your thoughts. You froze, and it was like you could feel time moving. Arthur’s journal was still in your hands and you could feel the eyes of a cowboy bore into your back. You hoped and prayed it was anyone but Arthur. At least then you’d be able to potentially mangle yourself out of the fact you went behind your friend’s back. You wanted to put the journal down, hell, you needed to, but it was like your feet were glued to the ground and your hands were locked in place.

“What you doing snooping through my stuff, girl?” 

Oh, it was Arthur. You winced under his question and took a deep breath. You carefully placed the journal back on his bedside, just as it was before you took it. Perfect. Like it hadn’t moved an inch. Not that it mattered anymore…

“Well?”

Fuck. You cursed under your breath. Say something. Anything.

“Arthur-I’m-so-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-I-was-thinking-I-just-saw-it-there-and-you-always-got-your-head-down-in-it-and-never-show-anyone-and-I-was-just-curious-and-I-know-it-was-wrong-but-I-just-“

“Now, why you talkin’ like that? Like I’m holdin’ you up at gunpoint? Turn around and look at me.” He cut you off, his question was rhetorical and his voice stern.

You immediately obliged and spun around on your heel. Your stomach was in knots. You wish you had never looked. Never betrayed him like this. Arthur’s eyes were a piercing blue like you’d never noticed, and his lips were curled into a frown. But still, he remained stoic. It���s like he was trying to appear unbothered, but you could see right through him.

“You know now why I let nobody look in here?” Arthur muttered, leaning over you and snatching the journal from his bedside.

You nodded apologetically and watched as he stuffed the journal into his satchel.

“I’ll be on my way now.” Arthur tipped his hat to you before turning around. He paused and when he was looking away he muttered, “’Am sorry if… you thought it was weird, miss…” 

Your mouth felt dry as you watched him walk away.

Weird? He was worried that you thought it was weird.

You chased after him and caught up pretty quickly, placing the palm of your hand flat against the broadness of his back. “Arthur, what you wrote in there was the sweetest thing… not weird at all, I promise.”

Arthur stopped and looked down at you, still frowning. 

“I just had no idea you felt that way,” You continued, shaking your head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I overstepped your boundaries and we can just forget about it if that’s what you want…”

To clarify, forgetting about it was the last thing you wanted to do, but alas, this wasn’t about you anymore. You would do anything for Arthur’s forgiveness and if that meant pretending like today never happened, then so be it.

“Forget?” Arthur whispered. “You really expect me to forget about this?”

You pursed your lips together, holding back a sigh. “I don’t think you should. I know I’d struggle to forget what I saw in there… but also, I don’t want to forget. I… I’ve been sweet on you since the moment I met you, Arthur. Tilly and Mary-Beth would always tease me for it. Abigail knew too, but she said you’d never be interested in pursuing someone in camp. Hosea made it seem like you were still hung up on Miss Linton, and so I never said anything. Oh Arthur, you’ve always been so kind to me. So gentle and soft, you’re different to the others…” You placed a hand on his bicep and Arthur practically softened into your touch.

“I’m a bad man,” Arthur shook his head gruffly. “I’ve done bad things.”

“Haven’t we all?” you snapped back, exasperated. “I may just do the chores around camp but you forget my history, Mr Morgan. All of us are Van Der Linde’s and we are not good people. Hell, I struggle to even tell the difference between good and bad anymore. But when I’m with you, I feel good. Really good. I feel safe and protected and God, Arthur. When I saw you felt the same way… that you think about me in the same way…”

Arthur cut you off with a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and contrasted with the roughness of his stubble and quick-growing moustache. You let out a small gasp when his lips crashed atop yours but quickly melted into it, bringing your hands up to his head and running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. His tongue tasted like fresh mint and other herbs you couldn’t quite recognise, and you had never been closer to his musky familiar scent. Arthur’s big arms wrapped around your body and he held you tight against him. When he finally pulled away, he nudged his nose against yours and lingered for a moment, staring into your eyes.

“Forgive me for saying miss, but if it wasn’t already clear, I think I’m in love with you.”

The revelation made you giddy, your heart racing in your chest with the thrill of it all. You couldn’t believe it. Abigail…. Hosea…. They were all wrong. Arthur actually felt the same as you.

“I’m in love with you too,” you squeaked, tears filling your eyes as Arthur enveloped you in a hug.

When you finally pulled away from him, it was only to ask him another important question.

“Do you forgive me for what I did, Arthur?” you asked him sadly. Arthur could see the guilt; it was written all over your face.

“If you didn’t do that, none of this would have ever happened,” Arthur smiled, pressing his index finger to your chin and picking your face up so you were looking at him in the eyes. He was smiling. He was okay…

“I s’pose that’s true,” you shrugged. “I’m still sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

“I believe you,” Arthur said, lacing his fingers with yours. “Now let’s go grab some of Pearson’s broth and we can take it to the lake. I think we have a lot to talk about…”

You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up. You and Arthur walked side by side to the campfire and the entire way you felt yourself bubbling with anticipation over what was to come next.

[natimiles]

Chronology and random facts in Ikemen Vampire

Because I was bored one day and now I can't stop thinking about it

First, their births and deaths (DD/MM/YY): Jean: ☀️ 06/01/1412 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 30/05/1431 (19yo) Vlad: 🧛🏻‍♂️ 1431 — historically 💀 1476 (45yo?) Leonardo: 🧛🏻‍♂️ 15/04/1452 — historically 💀 02/05/1519  (67yo?) Faust: ☀️ 1480 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 1540 (60yo) Shakespeare: ☀️ 26/04/1564 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 23/04/1616 (almost 52yo) Isaac: ☀️ 25/12/1642 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 31/03/1727 (84yo) Comte: 🧛🏻‍♂️ 28/05/1696 — historically 💀 27/02/1784 (87yo?) Mozart: ☀️ 27/01/1756 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 05/12/1791 (35yo) Charles: ☀️ 15/02/1739 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 04/07/1806 (67yo) Napoleon: ☀️ 15/08/1769 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 05/05/1821 (51yo) Vincent: ☀️ 30/03/1853 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 29/07/1890 (37yo) Theo: ☀️ 01/05/1857 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 25/01/1891 (33yo) Arthur: ☀️ 22/05/1859 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 07/07/1930 (71yo) Dazai: ☀️ 19/06/1909 — 🧛🏻‍♂️ 13/06/1948 (39yo)

Fact I: From what I found online, France started using electricity around 1870-1880. It intensified after 1881, after the Exposition Universelle (Universal Exposition) in Paris, when they lit up the Eiffel Tower. 

Fact II: We know we are in the 19th century in-game, but don’t know which year exactly (not that I remember). Which means: our story is around 1870-1899, because there's electricity.

With all that information, I have so many comments and questions!

1. Imagine how freaked out Jean was when he went to the mansion! He died soooo young! And like 450 years BEFORE there was such a technology as a freaking lamp. Well, almost all of them died before the electricity… 

2. Vincent, Theo and Arthur come from the future. They actually were alive in the same years that the story passes. I guess they never leave Paris or they would’ve encountered themselves? I don’t know how this paradox would work. Dazai is also from the future.

3. I never thought Comte would be the “youngest” pure blood. I don’t remember them saying anything about it.

4. Napoleon probably met Charles before. As a fact, I googled it and found a little story about it, but apparently it’s not proven: “They met by accident near the Place de la Concorde, the same place he had killed the last king a decade earlier. Recognizing Charles, Napoleon asked if he would do the same to him if it came to it. Apparently displeased by the affirmative answer, Napoleon asked how he could sleep at night, to which Charles said, ‘If kings, emperors, and dictators can sleep well, why shouldn’t an executioner?’”

5. Arthur not only knew Shakespeare’s work, but he wrote a poem about it — and it’s so hard for someone who has english as a second language to read. It’s named “Shakespeare's Expostulation” (published in Songs of the Road) and it’s Shakespeare complaining about the attribution of authorship of his works to Francis Bacon.

6. It would be so awkward a meeting between Jean and Charles. Not related to any particular information in this post, just thought of the irony and got sad.

7. Dazai (and probably Arthur) knows what a car is. It must be weird for him to ride a carriage.

8. Aside from Jean, Theo is the youngest. Isaac is the oldest (not counting Comte).

9. Not related to this post specifically, but did you know Isaac Newton never dated anyone? He died a virgin. Now think about what an awkward snowflake he’s in-game.

Masterlists

[twola]

Wanted to say I looovvve how you write Arthur! Since you’re taking requests I was wondering if you’d do something like the nsfw alphabet for him or just general headcanons for him? Thank you:)

I’ve always wanted to do one of these. Thanks for the nudge! For reference, our boah is high-honor for this.

Drop a line and tell me which one is your favorite!

NSFW Alphabet : Arthur Morgan

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s usually a panting, groaning mess after orgasm, but as soon as he catches his breath, he’s peppering your face with kisses, heaping praise upon you.

“Such a good girl.” He’ll rumble in those low timbres, his deep voice sex-hoarse as he gently wipes his spend from your skin.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Arthur loves the gentle slope - the long curve of your neck. He loves kissing it, suckling at it, leaving marks and bruises as he not so secretly enjoys you having physical signs that you’re his.

He’s not one to think much of himself, he’s known to degrade himself, but if you were insistent on an answer,  he would say his arms. Broad and strong from years of hard living - heaving hunted animals over his shoulder, roping horses, beating men. His arms draw you into the line of his body, wrapping around your waist and keeping you secure and safe.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not an idiot. Not at this point in his life. Having had gotten a girl pregnant and living in proximity to John’s stupidity with Abigail, he knows that the temporary high of spending into a woman wasn’t worth the risk of conceiving a child.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish, want, so much, to spend within your warmth, not to pull himself from you jerkily.

If he were another man, in another life, not running in an outlaw gang - he would love to stay inside, to create life within you - to watch you grow and birth his child. If only. If only.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Big, bad gunslinger - outlaw - criminal, god, he would never hear the end of it if others knew how he whimpers as you nudge that spot beneath his testicles, your fingers pressing against that skin, and it feels so good he could cry. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While in his later adult years, he has had fewer partners, in his youth, Arthur was a wild stallion. Rolling into a saloon with a sly smile and a bag full of gold coins from a robbery, working women flocked to him, and he certainly enjoyed their company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Arthur certainly enjoys any way he can have you - and he certainly has enjoyed an array of positions - holding you up against a brick wall in a back alley in Saint Denis, bending you over the table in an empty cabin, watching you gyrate above him- riding him as he fucks up into you.

But deep down, this grisled outlaw is a romantic at heart, though he will never admit it.

He loves the most when you’re underneath him, when he can see your pretty face when you come, when he can spread himself out over you, when you cross your ankles over his hips to draw you in.

In this cruel, hard world, he loves you safe and secure beneath him, where he can shield you from all of its ugliness, if only for a few moments.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Arthur’s sense of humor is notoriously dry, and frankly, it's not brought to the bed, or whatever surface he’s having you on.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well, it is 1899. And he’s a man that lives out in the wilds. Baths are hard to come by.

But you do enjoy trailing your fingers along the trail of dark hair that begins at his navel and spreads across his pelvis - straight to the chestnut curls at the base of his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Arthur worships you as the two of you fall into bed with one another. God, he told you he loved you before he slept with you - of course the moment is thick with emotion.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sure, if a job takes him away from you for several days, he’ll get lonely. Arthur will pull the flaps on his small tent and lay himself on his bedroll, unbuttoning his union suit and taking his length in hand, closing his eyes and picturing you there: the way you whine into his ear. The way you clutch at his shoulders, the way you roll your hips to take him deeper. The way you grit out his name as you’re reaching the edge, the way your cunt pulses around him-

He spills over his hand, moaning as he comes down from his high. As he catches his breath and wipes off his hand before tucking himself away, he knows, he knows, that he will have to have the real thing as soon as he returns to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

For someone with a mind-numbingly high bounty on his head, he should not like getting tied up so much.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not that he has many options most of the time, his cot within his tent being the normal spot, but he does love to have you in a big bed, naked and squirming on fresh sheets. He takes you to hotels when he can, enjoying the ability to press you down into a soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There’s nothing that gets his blood pumping like successfully pulling off a heist. Riding back into camp loaded down with riches, swinging down off his horse, after depositing the take, he will seek you out, taking you hand in his and kissing it gently before walking you back to his tent and laying you down on his cot.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He may be a killer, a criminal, a bad person. But he does have a code. He has never and will never force himself on a woman. He would never force you to do anything for him if you said no, even though it would be more than easy enough for him to overpower you.

Fortunately for him, you don’t like saying no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Christ, you wonder as you throw your head back in the pillow, was there anything this man couldn’t do well? He’s between your thighs suckling at your clit, tongue lapping at your entrance, pressing inside you as his warm breath ghosts over your core. Arthur loves diving between your legs, even drawing up your skirts out in the wild and tasting you. And god, is he good at it.

While he likes to give, give, give, he cannot help but groan as you sink to your knees in front of him, babbling near incoherently as you suck his cock until he spills hot and fast down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the setting. If he’s forced to go quickly, it is a brutal, punishing rhythm. But oh, if he’s got you in bed with nothing but time, he savors each slow, long stroke, and the whimpers that drip from your mouth like ambrosia.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his favorite. He’d rather take his time to painstakingly take you apart - to feel every inch of you against him, to see and taste and love you. To give you the attention he believes fully you deserve.

But sometimes, the man just needs to be inside you, sheathing his cock in your warm, wet cunt. With your clothes still on and undergarments shoved to the side, Arthur groans as he sinks inside you, wanting never to leave. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try just about anything - unless it has the ability to hurt you. You hear talk in the saloons from working girls of acrobatic positions that you tell him about while blushing. He’ll try, as long as its not something that verges on dangerous.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

“I ain’t a teenager any more.” He’ll grumble, but he always, always, draws you to come multiple times before he actually does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, it's 1899. Besides, he thoroughly enjoys bringing you over that edge with his fingers, his tongue, or his cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You wouldn’t say he likes to tease you, but you find it completely unfair when he refuses to let you touch him, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you before he is ready to come himself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Growing up in an outlaw camp, in close proximity to everyone, Arthur knows how to be quiet. But the second he gets you away, whether out in the wilds or a hotel room, he grunts and moans into your ear, his gravelly voice fading into primal noises the closer he gets.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t know why he allowed it to happen - he should have been the one teaching you to shoot. Not Javier.  

Or maybe it’s a good idea. He’s not sure how much learning would get done. Not after he’s seen you aim a repeater, tensing against the recoil. 

He’d be bending you over the fence that Javier has lined up empty bottles on, pressing inside of you, his little gunslinger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As much as he’d deny it, Arthur is not diminished at all when stripped of his clothing. While he’s a bit self-conscious about his stippled and scarred skin, you fully enjoy tracing his life’s story with your fingers or your lips.

Arthur is not a small man. He’s tall and broad shouldered, muscular and solid. The first time you fish his cock from his union suit, a flash of panic shoots through you - how the hell were you supposed to take all of this?

You shouldn’t have worried, considering how much Arthur would work you open with his fingers and tongue before sinking into you - the stretch of him entering you never hurts.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Now, sometimes unfortunately, much like coffee, Arthur awakens and needs to have you to seemingly function. Sleepy, gentle sex as the sun rises lets him get out of bed on the right foot.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even after bringing both of you to orgasm, panting, breathless, he won’t fall asleep right away. He’ll always have enough energy, at the very least, to clean your skin of his spend and draw you into his embrace, winding your legs around each others’, and holding you close until you both fall asleep, completely satiated.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Hi everyone! I have a new Arthur x female!OC fic I've been working on that's posted up on Ao3, so I figured I would share it here as well. Please let me know what you think! This story is currently still on-going :)

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapter 1 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

1890

Kate had never fancied herself a skilled woodworker. While she had lent a hand to her husband in constructing a barn, her role mostly entailed passing him tools and bringing him his lunch. But as she stood amidst the sawdust, tears streaking down her cheeks, she grappled with the daunting task ahead. She lacked both the sufficient wood and the patience to craft two coffins. Thus, the inevitable decision emerged: they would be laid to rest together.

The Reverend's suggestion to cremate the bodies, emphasizing the need to eradicate the disease completely, fell upon deaf ears. The mere thought of reducing her beloved husband and precious baby girl to ashes felt abhorrent to Kate. Instead, she harbored a tender hope that one day, perhaps, they would blossom into a magnificent Willow tree.

Amidst the melancholy chore, the vibrant symphony of birdsong provided a bittersweet backdrop, reminiscent of the lullabies she once crooned to her infant daughter. With a sorrowful melody humming in her heart, Kate toiled diligently, her hands blackened with grime, each wipe across her tear-stained cheeks a testament to her grief. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their modest farm in a golden hue, Kate's work pressed on.

Night descended swiftly, cloaking the world in shadows that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Kate, perched upon her porch swing, found no solace in slumber. Her vigil was solemn, her gaze never wavering from the rough-hewn coffins that cradled her entire world within their confines.

With the break of dawn, the Reverend returned, his disapproval evident, yet tempered by resignation. Together, in a somber silence, they labored to fashion a final resting place. By mid-afternoon, the grave stood ready, a solemn abyss awaiting its occupants. With the Reverend's assistance, Kate tenderly lowered her cherished husband and daughter into the earth's cold embrace.

As dusk settled, the Reverend offered prayers and parting words before taking his leave. Left alone in her sorrow, Kate felt the weight of despair bearing down upon her. In a world forged by men and seemingly devoid of solace for a solitary widow, she found herself with no recourse but to depart.

Beneath the twilight sky, the epitaph etched upon their shared gravestone bore silent witness to her profound loss:

Here Lies My Beloved Noah, And Our Beautiful Daughter, Lorena.

May God Keep Their Souls.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

1899 

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays across the sprawling expanse of Emerald Ranch, Kate found herself amidst the ebb and flow of another day's labor. Nine years had slipped by since the tragic loss of her husband and daughter, a span of time marked by wandering footsteps and the pursuit of odd jobs on her journey westward. 

She had once heard her father say they had family in California, he had many sisters but only kept in touch with one. Kate wrote to her after the death of her husband, seeking asylum with a relative with nowhere else to go. Her Aunt wrote her back and gave her condolences, she said Kate would be welcome with open arms. 

However, the last she heard of her Aunt was 7 years ago. But still, she continued west. She had come too far and been through too much to stop now. What she hoped to find in the valleys of California, she did not know anymore. Over the years she became more cowboy and less of a woman, her once soft hands now calloused by years of labor. The untamed plains and cold hard ground had become both her refuge and her bed. 

She came to Emerald Ranch only a week ago, her boss; Seamus, was reluctant to hire a stranger, let alone a woman, to help on the ranch. Kate assured him she was cheap labor and was only looking for shelter and a place to rest until she was on the move again. Kate was no stranger to odd jobs, she took any work she could get and saved as much as she could. But she was no criminal. 

She heard Seamus talking to two men as she filled the troughs with clean water. The gentlemen said they were new in town and looking for a partnership, one in which they could both make money. 

“Look I ain't no idiot, and I don't trust folks outta the blue. If you want to work together then you're gonna have to prove to me you’re worth my time.” Her boss's voice raised above the usual noise of the barn animals. 

“Of course! We’re only interested in a partnership, just looking to make a little extra money.” Carried the voice of an older gentleman. 

“No doubt. I do interesting very well. It's trusting that I don't do so well.” her boss answered, still not convinced by the two strangers.

“Look at us, we’re honest as the day is long,” said the other man with cheer. 

“You really want us to prove ourselves to this clown Hosea?” said the other voice, sounding much younger than his partner. 

Seamus scoffed, “good day to you, Hosea.” 

“N-now wait a minute Seamus. Arthur can be rough, and quick with his tongue, but I swear you can trust him, you can trust me.” Hosea pleaded, following Seamus to the side of the barn. Kate now had a clear view of the new “business partners”. 

Kate didn't know Seamus very well, but she could tell he was an honest enough man. Wise for his years, and liked to keep his nose out of trouble. “I’m an old man Hosea,” he began, “and you know why I ain’t dead yet?” 

“Because you don't trust idiots,” Hosea finished.

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots, Seamus. Let us prove it to you.” Hosea had an air of confidence, he wasn't some runaway bum looking to make a quick buck. He was serious about a partnership. Although Kate wouldn't say the same for his partner, who loomed behind them like a panther ready to pounce. 

“Okay…I’ll tell you what, old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from up north. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that,” he looked around for anyone who might be listening to his scheming, “then we can work together.” He said quietly, placing a hand on Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Who’s Old Bob Crawford?” inquired Hosea.

“An acquaintance of mine…well, not just an acquaintance. He’s my cousin, by marriage.” Seamus explained. 

“Oh so now we’re meddlin’ in your family business?” Arthur boasted with skepticism. 

Hosea waved him off and continued speaking, “Where is he located?”

“Now hang on a moment, you boys could very easily take this coach and sell it yourselves for a pretty penny,” Seamus began. 

“So you comin’ with us? I thought you didn't want to be involved in shady business?” Arthur spoke up again. 

“Heavens no, if my cousin saw me it would be my death. I'm sending someone with you, as collateral.” Seamus turned around and saw Kate already watching them, he waved her over. 

Arthur shook his head disapprovingly, “nah, I don't do babysitters Seamus.” 

Kate was just as skeptical about her part in this, she told Seamus she was looking for honest work, and robbing his cousin certainly falls out of that line. 

“She’s not babysitting . She’ll take you to my cousin's farm and let you do the robbing. Kate has been working for me for a few days now and she’s tougher than she looks.” Seamus said turning to Kate, “I want you to make sure that stage coach gets back to me. You don't need to take part in the robbery.” 

“You’re fine with them robbing your cousin?” She spoke in a hushed tone so only Seamus could hear.

“By marriage,” he added, “and yes, I would love it. The man’s been a thorn in my ass for years.” He said amused.

She nodded in acknowledgement and turned to get a good look at the two strangers. One was indeed much older than the other, with cropped white hair peeking out from under his hat. The other gentleman was tall and burly, and he hid his eyes under the brim of his hat. He seemed wary of strangers and kept both hands resting on his gun belt. 

“Let me get my horse saddled and I’ll meet you boys at the intersection leading out of town.” She spoke, Hosea nodded and was already making his way to his horse. Arthur stood for a moment eyeing the woman, no doubt playing the intimidation tactic. But Kate had seen far scarier men than him in her days. “Y'know the quicker we get this done the quicker you fellas get paid.” She noted.

Arthur scoffed and finally followed Hosea to his horse, “don't need no damn babysitter,” he grumbled kicking dust.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate made quick work of saddling her black Hungarian roan, she calls Lorena. After her infant daughter. In a moments pass she was on the dirt road leading out of Emerald Ranch and toward Carmody Dell. She waved for the two men to follow her, they stayed behind her a short distance and made no effort for small conversation.

However, she overheard snippets of their own conversation as they went, “I thought you wanted me to be the strong arm? That's usually how it goes,” Arthur spoke.

“Yes but..” Hosea hesitated, lowering his tone a little, “you know how this works.”

“Cmon Hosea that fellers a joke, he don't even trust us enough to handle it ourselves. Now we got a chaperone.” Arthur complained loudly, at least he’s not calling me a babysitter , Kate thought. 

“All the better, he won't cause us any problems. And I cant blame the guy for sending the girl. Two strangers looking for quick money? Hell, I’d want assurance too.” Hosea answered, “besides, if he’s sending protection that means there’s big money to be made. Seamus wants his cut.” 

Kate came to the same conclusion, up until now Seamus had given her the usual ranch-hand tasks. Feeding and cleaning mostly. This was very different, there must be good money for this stage coach. 

“I guess you’re right,” Arthur muttered.

Hosea mumbled something back to Arthur about “hanging up their hats” if they couldn't finish a job as easy as this. They laughed and began chatting about their travels in Emerald ranch, Kate tuned them out and began humming a song to her horse. 

Her singing always pleased her horse and calmed the girl’s nerves. She was a strong and fierce steed, but jumpy and needy like a baby sometimes. Kate thought naming her horse after her daughter would bring her closure, instead, she was almost convinced that her daughter's spirit lived on in Lorena somehow. In all ways except biological, her horse was her baby.

Carmody Dell was a short distance north past the train tracks and Fort Wallace, Kate had passed it once before. They rode at a steady pace, the men behind her never coming too close. She wondered for a moment what their story was, and why they needed money so bad. Perhaps they were travelers like her, maybe they even had a caravan. She entertained the thought of traveling with a group again, but shuddered at the memories. Her previous caravan adventures had not ended well. 

Once the ranch was in view she slowed and allowed the boys to catch up on either side of her. She led them to a grassy clearing off the road. 

“You should continue on foot from here, I’ll stay behind with your horses.” She said dismounting. The two of them nodded and dismounted their horses, Kate was almost surprised to hear no objections from Arthur. 

“C'mon son, let's see what we’re dealing with here.” Hosea commented walking towards a large rock in front of the house. 

“Son”, so they are family . She mentally noted. Arthur gave his horse a pat, “be a good girl for the lady” he said, tipping his hat towards Kate. She was slightly taken aback by the sudden politeness.

She busied herself with the horses for a bit while the men laid out their plan, she gave Hosea and Arthurs horse a treat and was about to start brushing his horse when he approached her again. Startled, she backed away from his mare, she didn't want him to think she was snooping in his saddle bags. 

“You can keep brushin’ her, she loves attention,” he half smiled reaching up and petting her snout. “I just came to tell ya’ we’re gonna wait till it gets dark. Less chance of getting caught that way.” 

“Smart,” she replied, for whatever reason she suddenly felt very shy in his presence. 

He stood a few feet away from her and she could see more of his features. He was around her age. He had short dirty blond hair under his leather hat, and bright blue/green eyes. Her eyes lingered over his body. He was big too, more than a foot taller than her and well fed and muscular. His bicep had to be the size of her head alone, and she could tell by the fabric of his button down he had a bit of a belly hidden behind his gun belt. 

“What’s her name?” His voice broke through her awkward silence. 

“Who?” She asked and looked back at him. 

He chortled, “the black beauty you got over there,” he nodded to her horse. 

Oh, duh! “Her name is Lorena, she also loves attention but she’s nervous around new people.” Kate answered, still a bit lost in her thoughts. 

Arthur made a clicking sound with his tongue, reaching out a hand and slowly walking toward her horse. “It’s alright girl,” he cooed while she sniffed his palm. He pulled out a peppermint and gave it to her, which Lorena happily accepted. 

Kate smiled at the interaction, “you introduce yourself to my horse before me?” she teased. 

“My apologies ma’am,” he turned to face her, “names Arthur Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan, I’m Kate McCanon.” She reached out her hand and he shook it. His grip was firm but polite. 

“Likewise, Miss.McCanon. That’s Belle your brushin’, and that’s Silver Dollar.” He pointed at Hosea’s horse. “I saw this beauty when we first rode into Emerald ranch, had no idea she was yours tho.” He was talking about her horse again, “told myself I’d inquire about buying her if she was available.” 

Kate smiled at the affection he was showing for her horse, she knew Lorena was a beautiful mare. She often received compliments on the road, and many have offered to pay for her purebred. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she’s not for sale.” 

“Well I can certainly see that,” he laughed, “she seems happy though. You must take real good care of her.” He said, his attention still on her mare as he scratched under her chin. 

“You some kind of horse breeder Mr. Morgan?” Kate asked. 

Arthur laughed, “no no. Nothing like that, though sometimes I wish I was.” He smiled as he said it but Kate noticed there was a sadness in his tone. “I just think they’re neat is all.” 

They had only just met, and while Arthur was not initially the most pleasant, she found it incredibly cute how enraptured he was by her horse. 

“I should probably also apologize for my rudeness earlier, it’s been a rough couple weeks for us and we uh- don’t always take too kindly to strangers.” Arthur took off his hat as he spoke and held it to his chest, a sincere gesture. 

Kate was shocked, the man she met at Emerald ranch not even an hour ago seemed like a completely different person than the man before her. His cold demeanor was gone, or at least reined in at the moment. 

“No apology needed Mr. Morgan. I understand,” She answered. “Although I wouldn’t call it rude, you were just skeptical. Rightfully so, can I ask what brings you to Emerald Ranch?” 

Arthur looked away from her as he spoke, choosing to focus on her horse. “We’re just stayin’ in the area for a few weeks. Passin’ through and tryna make money.” 

“By robbing stagecoaches?” Kate said in an amused tone, “you a bunch of outlaws or something?” She continued, half-joking. 

Arthur looked at her with surprise, “What? No, we uh- got laid off from the railway. Up-north. Just looking for money so we can find a place to settle down again. That’s all.” He looked away again, avoiding her gaze. 

“I’ll say it again, by robbing stagecoaches?” She kept her tone playful, but wasn’t entirely convinced by his story. But it felt good to be the intimidator.

“Wasn’t our idea, Seamus asked us to rob his cousin!” His voice rose slightly with anger. 

“By marriage,” Kate retorted. 

Arthur was about to speak again but only stared at her. 

“I’m just pulling your leg Mr. Morgan.” Kate laughed. “It’s no business of mine. I’m only passing through here, same as you. What you do here and how you earn your money is your business. As is mine.” 

Arthur scoffed, suddenly amused, did this woman just tease me?

He went to speak again before another voice interrupted them, “Arthur! Get over here!” Called Hosea. He pointed a finger at Kate as to say this isn’t over and walked away. 

Amused with herself, Kate grabbed an apple and sat down against a tree. Watching the sun set as she waited for the cover of night so the two men could pull off their heist. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate woke suddenly to the sound of horses moving. She quickly got up and looked in the direction of the ranch. Sure enough the stage coach was steadily moving down the path away from its place in the barn. She quickly mounted her horse and trotted over to them. 

“Nice work! Follow me back to Emerald Ranch and try to keep it in one piece.” She called up to Hosea who was driving the coach. With that she clicked her tongue and took off ahead of the coach at a steady but quick pace. Not wanting to get themselves caught. 

Before Hosea could crack the reins he looked to Arthur as he was about to get in the coach, “you ride ahead with her. I got this.” 

Arthur looked confused, “why wouldn’t I ride with you? The horses will follow.” 

Now Hosea was giving him an amused look, “I heard you with her earlier.” 

“And?” The cowboy replied slightly annoyed. 

“You’ve never fumbled our cover story so bad!” He quipped, “it was like listening to a child tell it!” 

Arthur shook his head, “now you’re playin’ match maker old man?” He teased, trying to hide his smile.   

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to go talk to her son."

Without another word Arthur nodded and dismounted the coach, getting into the saddle and riding off to catch up to Kate.

[sjsmith56]

The Gilded Age - An Avengers / Bucky Barnes AU Set in 1899

This is an alternate universe story set in 1899, near the end of the Gilded Age, in New York City. It is a time that appears to be prosperous, as economic expansion grows the economy, leading to better wages and a demand for skilled labourers, drawing immigrants from all over. But this time also has dark shadows. It is described by Mark Twain as an era of materialistic excess, combined with political corruption. Just as there are villains, there are heroes, the famed Avengers of the Society of Heroic Individuals and Estimable Lofty Deeds, or SHIELD. One in particular, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, of the United States Cavalry, has a tragic past, but the arrival of the new librarian / curator for the Society, brings thoughts of romance to his mind.

Format: Short fiction. 7 parts. Updated once per week.

Warnings: Violence, description of torture and medical experimentation. There will be some sexual content but as it is set in 1899, unmarried sexual relations were not commonly discussed in certain social circles and the OFC is inexperienced. The romance is a somewhat slow burn.

If you’re interested, please follow me and activate notifications. There are no tag lists.

All mood boards and banners will have AI generated images created by the author using Microsoft Copilot in Designer mode. (I wish I had the artistic talent to draw but I don’t.)

Chapters and more after the break. Divider by vecteezy.com

Part 1. Introductions All Around

Part 2. Preparations

Part 3. Courtship

Part 4. Downpour

Part 5. Regret

Part 6. Confrontation

Part 7. Satisfaction

United States Cavalry Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, formal portrait taken sometime in 1893 (prior to his capture in the Wyoming Range Wars).

Short Fiction Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[christmascheeseballs]

Till Death Do Us Part - An Arthur Morgan x OC Story *Part One*

Content Warnings – Kidnapping, Death Threats, Micah Bell, Unplanned Pregnancy, Trauma, Angst, Character Deaths, Eventual Happy Ending (not in this part)

Word Count – 1.3k

Part One - 1.3k words (17th July 2024)

Part Two - 1.7k words (17th July 2024)

Part Three - 1.2k words (19th July 2024)

Authors Note – Some of you may have seen my desperate search for the fic I read years ago along a similar storyline to this. Despite constant searching, I never found it and am genuinely starting to think that it came to me in a dream. So here I am, writing a fic yet again. This will be my first fic since the days of Marvel One-shots over on Wattpad back in 2019, so sorry if I’m rusty!! This’ll either be 2 or 3 parts, should all be published within a week or so 😊

Also, can anyone let me know how to write masterlists/link fics? So that I can do the whole ‘part one here, part two here’ thing?

A quick introduction to the OC of this fic – Florence ‘Flo’ Morgan – 26 years old (1899, 34 in 1907). Married to Athur Morgan since the summer of 1896, and a part of the Van Der Linde Gang since 1885, as Florence Nelson, at 12 years of age. After spending her childhood growing up alongside young Arthur Morgan and John Marston, with Dutch and Hosea as her mentors and honorary parents, her and Arthur eventually became sweet on each other, choosing to court from 1890, learning that they were the loves of each others lives.

-x-

“Flo, please, go. I’m sorry” whispered Arthur, the both of you hidden just outside of the entrance to Beaver Hollow. A single tear slid down his cheek as he held your shaking hands, his cerulean eyes glistening with pure heartbreak.

You both knew the truth – the gang was well and truly at an end. It had been an unbelievable 19 years since you’d first found your place in this family of misfits, but the time had come. To make matters worse, you knew that you were to be continuing with life alone. Your husband, the sweet, strong, seemingly invincible man, was dying. And you knew it. He never told you, but he should have known by now that after 3 years of marriage, and even longer as simply clueless soulmates, you knew him better than he knew himself.

At your silence, Arthur gently pushed you towards your horse. A loyal mare, a sweet grey thoroughbred named Darcy. She had been a part of the gang since you and Arthur first developed your relationship, almost 10 years ago now. Sensing your wrecked emotions, she gently nuzzled the back of your neck, seemingly knowing exactly what Arthur was expecting you to do, and preparing herself for the long and emotionally draining ride ahead of her.

“Arthur, please. Let me come with you. We can do this together”, you sniffle, grabbing desperately at his hands once again. Even though you knew exactly what reality held for you, you still plead for a second chance, a glimmer of hope inside you that together, you could beat Micah and Dutch, and live out your happily ever after. In your heart, you knew that would never happen, so even going forward with the love of your life to inevitably die together would suffice your aching soul. Sure, it wasn’t the way you wanted it to go, but at least you’d be sticking to the promise of ‘till death do us part’.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I really am. But you know I can’t let you come. I need you to be safe”, he responded, holding onto your hands, squeezing them gently. “You have to be safe”. Taking your waist gently, Arthur lifted you into Darcy’s saddle, his arms as strong as ever for you, despite his developing weakness. He always found strength for you. You had no regrets in this relationship, or life in general, not really. But you wish Arthur could’ve brought himself to tell you the truth about his illness. You suppose he’d rather that you believe that he’d died in the inevitable fight against Micah and Dutch, not succumbing to a fatal illness. It was a pride thing, you guessed.

Holding back a sob, you settle in your saddle, your feet sliding instinctively into your stirrups. Arthur takes your hands once again, shaking palms sliding into yours, and stares into your eyes. His face says a thousand words, but instant he mutters four simple ones. And they mean so much more than usual.

“I love you, Florence.”

You lean down for a final kiss, pressing your forehead against his, trying to put the last 9 years of love and devotion into this last moment together. A sudden rustle from within the now mostly derelict camp makes Arthur break out of his trance, quickly bringing him back to reality. He reluctantly pulls himself away from you, giving you a final look and a bittersweet smile.

Arthur gives Darcy a final pat, thanking her for her years of loyalty to the both of you, and you gently spur her forward, encouraging her away from the camp, away from the danger, and away from the love of your life. As she falls into a gentle canter, you look behind you one last time, giving Arthur a wistful look as he turns around, readying himself for the oncoming fight.

2 months later

The last 8 weeks of your life had truly been the most traumatic time. But the morning you had just experienced made the whole thing a lot more real.

After the loss of your husband, you had managed to reunite with John, Abigail, and the others. While you were far from safe, it definitely felt a lot more relaxed than the past few months you had gone through. Although you were on the run from the law on a daily basis, you finally had managed to rid yourself of the constant fear of the gang literally killing each other. The remaining portion of the gang had managed to set up a small camp just north of Ambarino, in the state of Oregon. Constantly on the look out of people following you, it was far from relaxing, but felt like a paradise in comparison. If only Arthur was there to see it, you couldn’t help but think.

However, a new fear had come to head. Whilst you originally put the lack of your monthly bleeding down to stress, new symptoms had caused Abigail to start giving you knowing looks. Looks that you didn’t even understand, to begin with. But after a serious conversation, your condition was clear. Pregnancy. With the man who you became a widow to 2 months ago. Due to be born to a life of running, at least until the extensive bounty was off your head. The worst case scenario.

Curse your mind. Your overactive brain couldn’t help to focus on one small light in this dark, dark time. You were getting a part of him back. What if they had his eyes? His laugh? His dry sense of humor? His intense way of caring and loving for anyone that mattered?

If this didn’t make you feel guilty, you didn’t know what would. How could you be finding joy in this time? Knowing that your child would be doomed, and yet still feeling a sense of happiness in it? Knowing that you were to live a life of single parenthood, knowing that your Arthur would never get to even know that his child was ever even a thing?

While your future was terrifying, the chance of having a part of your love back healed a small part of you.

1 month later

As your stomach slowly began to swell, the inevitable change in your life started to dwell on you. Yet still, the only person to know the truth was Abigail. Dear, pure Abigail. You don’t think you could’ve done any of this without her. Her knowing looks and careful tone was all you needed to come to terms with your condition. Speaking of, you knew she was looking for you, knowing that the impossible conversation was long overdue.

As you sat by the edge of your measly lakeside camp in North Western Oregon, gently stroking your tiny bump, you heard Abigail heading towards you, turning to see her striding in your direction with purpose set in her face. “Florence, you ready?” she murmured as she sat down next to you, digging her heels into the sand as she turned to watch you intently.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose”, you sigh, the weight of the world sitting heavily on your shoulders. “What’s the plan?”

Whilst the plan was simple, it was far from ideal. In short, you’d leave. Find a little homestead in the west, with the money Arthur left for you, as far from West Elizabeth and the surrounding areas as possible, and settle down. When the baby has come, move somewhere more temperate, more permanent, and just make your life work. A heartbreaking, lonely life, but the only one that would work.

The second part of the plan was the part that broke you more. When leaving, you’d tell nobody. Abigail would act none the wiser, and not even John, your brother since a child, would know of your situation. Not Sadie, not Charles, not anyone. A life where you were doomed to merely exist as a mother, until luck eventually found its way to you. If that ever was to happen.

You had a week until the end of your life as you knew it.

-x-

Thank you so much for reading, please like, reblog and comment for part 2 <3

[eykismyfav]

Surprise I’m back! I have been super fucking busy but I’m back and ready to write. If you have made requests I am going to try and get to them as soon as possible and if you want to make new ones go for it!

[mingyusfool]

Something to Believe In- Masterlist

Pairing: newsie!svt x newsie!reader

Genre: Historical romace taking place in the early 1900s.

Warnings: Strong language, implications of child labor and unfair/unsafe working conditions, violence, and bullying. (I will update when I write more lol.)

Release Date:

Started: August 30, 2024

Finished: Still in progress

Summary:

It’s 1899 after the infamous Newsboys’ Strike in which Newsies of New York City successfully negotiated fair prices of newspapers. Tensions have finally ceased between the higher ups of the newspaper company, The New York World, and the lower employees, the Newsies, who work for them selling newspapers all across the city. You’re the leader of a smaller newspaper printing company based in Gramercy selling newspapers for the Gramercy Gazette. You love your job there but since the big strike, smaller newspaper companies are combining with bigger ones like The New York World, and you fear you might have to change neighborhoods soon. Still, you continue to lead your group of newsies and do the best to protect them out on the streets of New York City.

Author's Note:

This fic was a random idea that myself and one of my friends developed recently and I decided to take the reigns and try it out. As an avid theatre person and carat, I thought the combination of Seventeen as newsies would make for an interesting story. Like imagine Seventeen wearing newsie clothes and dancing in the streets. I would pay good money to see that. But instead of begging Pledis for something that's never going to happen, you can just pop open Tumblr and read my fic for free lmao. I have never done anything like this but I love writing and I love Seventeen of course so I will try to update the parts as soon as I can. I am going to start off with a couple of parts that get the story going and then it will split off into parts that ship the reader and the individual members. Also disclaimer: this is historically accurate as I can make it but I'm no history expert. It's just supposed to be for fun. I also apologize if there are mistakes or writing errors. Anyway, I hope you enjoy as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Links:

Prologue:

Prologue Part One: Another Day Carryin' the Banner

Prologue Part Two: Welcome to Newsies Square

Chapters:

Seungcheol (Nothing here yet!)

Jeonghan (Nothing here yet!)

Joshua (Nothing here yet!)

Junhui (Nothing here yet!)

Soonyoung (Nothing here yet!)

Wonwoo (Nothing here yet!)

Jihoon (Nothing here yet!)

Minghao (Nothing here yet!)

Mingyu (Nothing here yet!)

Dokyeom (Nothing here yet!)

Seungkwan (Nothing here yet!)

Hansol (Nothing here yet!)

Chan (Nothing here yet!)

[daincrediblegg]

Oh my gosh okay I've seen you tag things with 'Lady Terror' and please please please I have to know more . Is it what I think? (The Terror in human form *o*) I'm so interested .

LMAO OK SO!!! funny story because, actually, even though she's definitely more human and grounded in reality now (and if you should wish to hear a little more about her backstory- knowing that she's a self insert for sure that I'm using to fuck francis crozier silly, I have a Bio for her HERE that may entice you ahead of the impending fic I have been writing about her and francis- the gothic austen romance of my fucking dreams, and I've also got a couple of mini fics and a fic preview on my masterlist should you like to read them) SHE ACTUALLY did kinda start out as the terror in human form, because at around the time I did my re-watch of the terror that LED to this whole year-long adventure, I was also watching 1899 on netflix and mourning the loss of its second season (added to netflix's list of heinous crimes), and the whole endeavor was partially inspired by the concept behind that show (no spoilers. but it's very cool), and some of the principal characters that absolutely have some kinda romance going on (yes I'm fully invested in maura/eyk and they are definitely a blueprint for whatever the hell francis and lady terror have going on)

but even though the dynamics have changed since I first came up with her and the nickname, I feel like there's a lot playing into that name that makes it a really fascinating moniker for her as a character now. the disambiguation from complete personhood that the name implies (similar to how Lady Silence for Silna operates), meanwhile having binding to both the ship (double-edged, as it implies something illicit in being the "lady of terror"- which is how she earned that nickname in the story in the first place- since she is supposed to be stationed on Erebus, but spends enough of her time on Terror to garner that reputation... but also something horrific and to be feared- as it's also what they call the Tuunbaq as well), and something then also in the way that it commands some level of power... but then also, for Francis especially, becomes something that he can embrace... in all her (and the nickname's) facets. Not something he could ever claim, but someone he can respect... feel affection for. perhaps even find some comfort and levity in... and by god do I love those implications and you'll pry them out of my cold dead hands at this point.

And so, to all, Lady Terror she remains.

[sunnyrealist]

🌻 Masterlist of Fanfiction, Polls, Etc. 🌻

❤️🔞 My Fanfics 🔞❤️

☀️🌑 The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars - in progress ☀️🌑 After being on the run for years, 25-year-old Sebastian Sallow was captured and forced to serve as a double-agent for the Ministry of Magic in order to destroy the dark wizarding organization that sympathetically broke him out of Azkaban. Lost and lonely, he regains his humanity when he meets Kate Mayflower, assistant librarian of Hogwarts. Positive and kind, she helps Sebastian find hope and happiness again as he changes his life for the better. However, the couple faces serious challenges, and their journey towards a life full of love, laughter, and peace takes them in directions neither ever anticipated.

🛏️🤰🏼 We Have Work to Do - in progress 🛏️🤰🏼 Ten years after Hogwarts Legacy, Sebastian and his wife, Kate, have decided they are ready to try for a baby. He whisks her away to a cabin in the middle of nowhere in the Scottish highlands, where he is determined to impregnate her within the week.

🛁 The Mess - complete 🛁 Unable to keep up with Sebastian's stamina, Kate jokes that he should touch himself. Not expecting his compliance, she can't help feeling turned on as she watches him fall apart. Mutual masturbation ensues.

🪄 Polls 🪄

If you realistically had to choose a Hogwarts Legacy character to marry, who would it be?

What would have been Sebastian Sallow's first career?

Who is the elder twin - Anne or Sebastian?

What is Sebastian Sallow's favorite sexual position?

Which body part does Sebastian Sallow like most?

What kind of pet would Sebastian Sallow have?

Does Sebastian Sallow have musical talent, and if so, what instrument would he play?

Who is your favorite Hogwarts Legacy professor?

Other than Sebastian or Ominis, who would be your bestie in Hogwarts Legacy?

Who would win in a fight between Duncan Hobhouse and Arthur Plummly?

🖼️ Collages 🖼️

Kate Mayflower Commission Collage

Kate Mayflower's Hogsmeade Cottage - Inspiration from Pinterest

Turn of the Century Golden Evening Gowns

Turn of the Century Evening Gowns

Hogwarts Librarian Attire: 1899

Turn of the Century Afternoon Dresses

Kate Mayflower's Casual, At-Home Attire

Kate Mayflower's Intimates: Nightgowns & Lingerie

[collecting-stories]

November 29 - Racetrack Higgins

Request: can I request a little racetrack or finch x fem!reader where she has press night for a broadway show they’re in (your choice!) and he is just admiring her, maybe with a little 62 and 80 from prompt list?

A/N: I decided to set this in 1899 instead of doing an AU so I changed the zipper line because zippers weren't used on clothing until 1925. The play is Ben Hur, which premiered on Broadway on November 29 1899 and was a massive success at the time.

Broadway Masterlist

✰✰✰✰

You didn’t want to admit it but you were terribly nervous. Katharine was there in the bustle of people and press who had the privilege of attending the show that evenings, a rather exclusive who’s who of New York City elite, and you felt out of place, even in your new dress. It was nicer than anything you’d ever worn before, the sort of thing meant to impress wealth and prestige and yet, it felt like it was suffocating you. 

As your co-star answered questions about the play you stood beside him, listening but hardly able to pay attention. While Katherine’s presence was reassuring, it didn’t quite provide the calm feeling that you were looking for. What you really wanted, as silly as it may have sounded to these people, was to be back at the boarding house with everyone. With nobody to impress, or at least with people who didn’t need you all dolled up in fancy clothes that felt like they were suffocating you, flashy red shoes and rogue on your cheeks. You just wanted to be back sitting on the rooftop with Racetrack, trying to stay cool in the summer and listening to all the sounds that threatened to keep you awake. 

Katherine called your name softly as she came up beside you, offering the sort of well-mannered greeting (a polite kiss to your left cheek and a reassuring hand on your wrist) that belonged in upper society circles. “Seems you have an admirer.” She teased and you finally looked away from all the stuffy jackets and skirts in the room. 

“What?”

“Look,” she instructed, nodding her head back so that you looked just beyond her shoulder. Standing there near the exit, in nicer clothes than you knew him to own, was Racetrack. Jack was standing with him, grinning at all the people hobnobbing their way about the lobby. Racetrack was looking right at you though, nothing seemed able to distract him as he stood there, grin on his face, watching you receiving praise from all the wealthy theatre goers of New York City. 

When he realized that Katherine had told you he was there, he waved and mouthed a silent ‘hello’ to him. You held your hand up just enough that he could tell you were waving back and then you pointed off to the side, nodding your head in the same direction just in case Racetrack didn’t get the message to meet you at the side door. He nodded. 

“You think anyone would mind if I sneak off?” You chanced asking Katherine, “just for a moment?” 

“I’ll cover for you, promise.” She replied. 

You snuck off as quietly as possible, weaving through the crowd and then slipping through the double doors into the theatre. You walked the empty aisle down to the stage, through the back and to the side door where Racetrack stood, already inside.

“You were supposed to wait for me to let you in.”

“Picked the lock,” he shrugged, smiling at you. There was a deep blush across his freckled cheeks as he stared at you, “you look beautiful, prettier than those Gibson girls.”

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. You and Racetrack had been friends for as long as you had been living on the street and you had liked him just as long. You’d wasted money on dances before, gone along with friends who were looking for a more secure future than a newsie had the means to offer, but nothing had ever stuck. You loved Race and you knew you did and whether it was the way he was looking at you or the fact that all your nerves had been calmed at the sight of him or even just the knowledge that it was your name on the marquee outside tonight, you wanted to make sure that he knew how much you loved him. 

“Wow,” Racetrack looked a little dumbstruck when you pulled away, a dopey smile on his face, “thanks.”

“Thanks?” You nearly laughed, “...your welcome?”

“No I didn’t mean...I just meant...aw hell,” he shook his head before leaning forward initiating another kiss. 

You had a marquee with your name on it and hundreds of guests crowding into the theatre to see you but all that felt like second best to the feeling of kissing Racetrack. You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach as you leaned back against the dressing table that had been set up in the tiny closet of a room you’d been given backstage. Outside the closed door you could hear footsteps and voices, people bustling around now that the preshow cocktail hour was over. Soon you’d be expected, ready and in costume, to go onstage. 

“Racetrack,” you pushed gently at his chest, “Racetrack, I have to get ready.” 

He nodded his head in understanding, though he didn't look ready to let go of you just yet, "I know," he lamented. And then, leaning in again, "I know I've kissed you like ten times but just another ten please?"

Before you could protest, a knock on your door let you know that you were expected out on the side stage, ready for your entrance. "I have to go," you insisted, pulling away. This time he let you though you didn't get too far, turning your back to him and looking over your shoulder, "can you help me do up this dress? Since you've somehow managed to undo it." 

Racetrack smiled, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers, "nimble fingers," he replied. He did up your dress though, the brightest smile on his face the entire time. "Beautiful."

You could feel your face warm at his compliment. Racetrack always knew how to give your butterflies in your stomach. "Wait until I'm gone," you asked, checking your makeup in the mirror behind him, "I don't need anyone thinking I'm a charity girl."

"That'll be comical...after tonight you'll be the one giving me gifts for favors." Race teased, laughing when you swatted at him, "you think they got a name for that? A bloke who gets gifts from his girl, instead a the other way 'round?"

"I'll see you after the show," you promised, opening the door just enough that you could sneak out of your dressing room and blowing him a kiss that he caught and pressed to his heart.