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photo1030 · 9 months

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 18: Feelings Revealed

Part 4 - SEE ME, FEEL ME, TOUCH ME, HEAL ME

Summary: You and Arthur finally have your first night together.

Warning: 18+ please, Minors - DNI; This is a long one, too.

*I had another title for this, but as I was listening to The Who, this lyric began to play as I was editing and it just seemed to fit this chapter perfectly.

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*These are NOT my images. However, I have seen them in multiple versions and on multiple sources. So I don't know who the owners are to credit. But if anyone knows, let me know.

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

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

Arthur gets a small fire going outside the lean-to hunting shelter. The fire burns a deep red and vibrant yellow as the flames lick up around the logs. It’s a soft and comforting sight, the popping and crackling of the wood drowning out all other sounds in the forest this evening. The sky is deepening to a majestic royal purple hue, with its diamond-glittering stars emerging like a crown. The glow of the fire casts its light only upon your little shelter and the immediate area surrounding it as if protecting you inside of an intimate little sphere made just for the two of you.

With his task complete, Arthur moves into the shelter and sits down on the ground, nervously wiping his hands on the sides of his pants as he looks over and watches as you flit about to fix the make-shift bedding. You’ve rolled out his bedroll and fanned out a blanket overtop. You’ve even taken off your jacket, rolling it into a pillow of sorts and tucking it under the other fabrics.

Part of your fidgeting is because you want everything to be perfect. The other part is because you are so nervous. Although, you are not really sure why. Arthur is the one person in the world who you feel the most comfortable and safe with. And yet, with all of the previous restrictions and obstacles now removed, you almost feel more vulnerable than ever.

When you finish fidgeting with the bedroll and blanket, you turn and look down at him, meeting his gaze with a shy smile gracing your features. You nervously bite your bottom lip as you hesitate for just a moment before you hike up your skirts. Loosely balling the cotton into your hands to show just the slightest amount of your calves, you move to sit on Arthur’s lap. And straddling his hips so that you can face him, you slowly lower yourself down on top of his folded legs.

He tentatively sets his hands on your hips to help guide you down. Your hands come to rest upon the sides of his neck and shoulders for support, but you leave them there for a few moments after you settle, the muscle and bulk of his body keenly radiating through your fingertips.

Arthur’s hands carefully come up around your neck, his long fingers stretching around to the back and into your hair as his thumbs brush against your chin. He cradles your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you in years, because now he sees you in a whole new light, more radiant and precious to him than ever before.

You and Arthur simply sit and stare at each other with no words spoken, neither of you sure where to even begin. And yet the anticipation is epic. The comforting silence that encompasses the air is like that that follows the rain. The soft crackling of the fire just outside the shelter is the only sound you hear besides your measured breathing.

Excitement fills your mind as you cannot believe that this is finally happening. But suddenly, you have the fear that Arthur is going to change his mind about this whole thing; that he’s going to get up and bolt from you. Now that you are actually here alone together, you are filled with insecurity. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? You are not the prettiest girl in camp. What if you're too forward? What if you're not forward enough? (He is an outlaw after all.)

But your whole internal struggle is ridiculous, because Arthur is having the same exact conversation with himself in his own mind right now. He’s ugly. He’s riddled with scars and calluses. He’s older than you, too. And, he is not a good man.

But what neither of you realize is that despite how broken you both are, you are exactly what the other wants and needs.

His hands release your face, smoothing down over your shoulders and arms to now rest gingerly on your upper thighs. Arthur’s mind races as he stares at you perched so perfectly upon his lap, right where he’s always wanted you. He wrestles with his self-doubt, but in contrast, he also has to deal with his own heated desires. He's wanted you for so, so long. It is all he can do to restrain himself from throwing you down and roughly taking you here and now.

But eventually, your hand lifts and moves slowly like a butterfly hovering in the air to lay across his cheek. His skin is warm and his beard stubble tickles the palm of your hand. Arthur slowly closes his eyes the moment your fingers graze his skin. He slightly leans into your hand as he places his own massive one overtop of yours to hold it in place, basking in the tenderness found there. It is like a gift that he’s rarely received in his life, and his reaction to your simple gesture almost makes your heart break for him.

Your fingers soon leave his face and proceed to his neck to pull at the knot of his neckerchief which quickly comes off and gets tossed to the side. Then your thumbs gracefully hook under his suspenders to lower them down off his broad shoulders. Although your movements are fluid like water, you can feel Arthur’s whole body begin to stiffen a bit in apprehension under you.

With the suspenders out of the way, you drift back up to the collar of his shirt, hesitating but just for a moment. You slowly begin to unbutton, working the fasteners back through the holes with slightly shaking fingers. Your eyes follow the trail of your fingers, but Arthur’s gaze never leaves your face, watching you so intently as you work. The glow of the fire outside warms your skin and causes copper flecks to dance in your eyes. He takes note how your breathing has become a bit faster, yet shallow. He’s not sure if it is from nervousness or second thoughts.

When you get to the last button at his waistline your hands float up again, resembling the wingspan of a dove, and tuck under the collar. You slowly push the worn cotton fabric back and off of Arthur’s massive shoulders. Your fingertips trace along the thick sinewy muscles of his arms as you continue to push the fabric down to reveal more of his skin to you. The cool air nips at his skin the moment it is exposed. However, it’s a welcoming sensation to wake him up and anchor him to the present before he drifts off entirely and loses himself.

Once freed from the garment, your fingertips retrace their path, dancing back up along Arthur’s arms again until they find his shoulders. They continue to explore along his strong neck and move back up to cradle his jawline, until you are holding his handsome face in your hands once more. You pull Arthur in to you for another kiss; slow, deep and passionate. You close your eyes, savoring the taste of his lips. This kiss, just this simple kiss is all it takes for your heart to lose its balance. And all you want to do is fall.

Arthur’s hands suddenly leave your hips to clutch at your back hungrily while you kiss. He pulls at the bottom of your blouse, lifting it up enough so that he can place his hand onto the bare skin of your lower back, which is softer than he could’ve imagined.

You lean back from him just enough to catch your breath, reluctant to break the kiss, and take the opportunity to pull your blouse and chemise over your head and toss it to the side, leaving yourself now chest bare before Arthur. The movement causes your hair to ruffle, the locks falling softly like fire ash in the wind to frame your face.

Arthur blinks a few times and locks onto your eyes, as if testing if his are allowed to roam. At this precarious little moment, he is literally standing on the precipice of no return, and happily waiting to plunge over the side and into your arms.

Your soft smile gives him permission to explore and Arthur swallows thickly as he lets his gaze draw down your face and over your delicate throat, where he catches the skin flicker as you swallow and your pulse quickens. His eyes continue to float down across the delicate curve of your clavicle, until finally landing on your breasts. You watch his reaction closely, noticing his breath hitch slightly as you feel his body shift underneath you.

Arthur sits motionless, taking in the sight and taking time to appreciate the sheer beauty before him. He has waited and prayed for this moment and he wants not a second of it to be rushed. You reach down and collect his left hand into both of your own and bring it to your lips to softly kiss his dirt-stained knuckles before placing his hand on your right breast, closing his thick fingers around it. A soft puff of air huffs out of his nose at the intimate contact. Arthur draws his thumb across the bud of your nipple and gently squeezes the flesh, amazed at how supple it is.

You slowly remove your left hand from his and reach to set it upon his firm chest, trailing your fingers through the soft curls of golden-brown hair that is scattered across his body. You start at his collarbone and drift downward before placing your small, delicate palm directly over his heart.

"I can feel your heartbeat." You smile, pausing to experience the fluttering under your fingertips. "Can you feel mine?" you innocently ask him, staring at him with wide and hopeful eyes. You look at Arthur as if he is so special, so wondrous, that the feeling seems so foreign to him; almost as if it actually hurts him to be gazed upon so intensely like this. But it is not so much as the way you look at him, but how you can’t bring yourself to look at anything else.

“I feel your heart, your breath, your skin, your hair," he rambles as he gently pulls at a lock. "…everything.”

The poor man is so overwhelmed. All of his senses are saturated: seeing you perched on his lap so close that he can count the freckles on your cheeks, your honeyed voice and soft giggles of excitement ringing in his ears. He can taste you on his lips as you kiss.

And the kisses… dear God, you have lips so soft yet firm that they draw the very breath from his lungs. The feeling of your tongues rolling over each other is heavenly. But it’s your touch that does him in. When you caress Arthur’s tired face, or run your hand along his strong and burdened shoulders, he sweetly shudders beneath you.

It's been a long time since Arthur has done this; has allowed someone else to touch him in this way. Sure, there were Mary and Eliza, with the occasional working girl for the dire release, but those instances were far and few between. But Arthur has cut himself off for so long that he can’t even remember the last time he was touched like this. He can't even stand to look at himself, how could he manage to let a woman see him in this state?

Touch starved doesn’t even begin to describe it. And Arthur didn't notice how bad it was until the moment you ran your fingers along his bare arms and chest, your fingers caressing his face. Or, maybe it is just that it is specifically you touching him that is driving him crazy with desire right now.

You eventually begin to explore his body, and trace your fingers along several scars in particular along his chest, arms, and torso, mesmerized by them. Some are larger than others. Some are less angry-looking as time has healed them. But all show the contrast between an old wound and the tanned skin they bury into.

Being self conscious, Arthur instantly stiffens and tries not to instinctively recoil from you as your attention focuses on his scars. You don't pull back in revulsion as he had expected you to. But you simply stare and curiously run your finger over each one that you can find, like studying the fine thread work of a tapestry, and wondering how it got there.

"I know I ain’t much to look at for you," Arthur mutters lowly and embarrassed.

The comment causes you to look up into his eyes with a twinkle in your own before you lean over and softly begin to kiss each scar that you can reach with your lips. Each patch of hardened tissue is a target of your divine attention. The gesture catches Arthur off-guard and his eyes roll shut with a sigh at the feeling of your delicate lips on his damaged skin.

After a few moments of sweetly-delivered kisses, you sit up to look him in the eye again. "Your scars aren’t ugly, Arthur. They tell your story.” Your voice is an angelic whisper, both light-hearted and earnest at the same time; almost childlike in its wonderment. “They are a testament to how strong you really are, and of all of the things you’ve been through. Others would have crumbled under half the weight you’ve had to endure. You're like a tree; strong and weathered, and where everyone takes refuge."

Your hands dance along his chest again until your index finger lands on one scar in particular that is about three inches from his heart. Your face turns dark for a second, your brows furrowed at the thought of the glaring hardship that he unquestioningly assumes on behalf of everyone else that he cares for.

"You take the brunt of the storm while everyone is protected by you, Arthur." You gaze at him from under your thick lashes with a look of concern that darkens your once-bright face, worried about his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m rough and gnarled like an ol’ oak tree”, he sighs with a sad little self-deprecating grin as his fingertips drum nervously on your back.

The effervescent giggle that bubbles from your lips at his statement is music to his ears as that grin of yours that Arthur loves so much blooms across your cheeks.

“Yes, you’re rough, I’ll give you that,” you chuckle in agreement. “But, also like an old oak tree, every once in awhile, Arthur, you show the most magnificent colors.” The demure little smile that graces your face is enough to make Arthur’s heart stop.

He’s not used to this. He’s been denied attention for so long. Which is ironic, as all you want to do is touch him: run your fingers along his face, draw your leg along his, push yourself up against his bare chest. It's hard for you to imagine anyone ever thinking Arthur is not enough as he is all that you ever seem to think about.

Arthur pulls you to him again for more kisses which you happily reciprocate. The more you touch each other, the more the two of you relax and let go of the inhibitions and hesitations; the comfort settling upon you two like a warm blanket. Your kisses quickly lead to tight embraces, holding each other so close that it's possible that a rib may crack. Heavy breathing and gentle, needy moaning begins to fill the quiet night air.

Getting bolder, Arthur places hot, wet lips along your jawline, down your neck and over your collarbone, getting more and more greedy as your chin gently drops back to grant him access to the sensitive skin underneath. A contented sigh pulls from your slightly gaped mouth as his tongue darts out to leave trails along that soft spot on your chest above your breasts. Your arms affectionately cradle his head to you as your fingers comb through the amber-colored locks of his hair that are forever-embedded with faint hints of woodsmoke.

It is such a blissful moment as you feel each other wrapped in the other’s arms, held so close that every inch of you is heightened and yearning for more.

Arthur eventually rolls you to lay you down, his own body pinning the side of yours to the ground. Your leg lifts to intertwine with his as your arms slot under his own like a puzzle piece as he deepens the passion with hungry lips and curious hands. Closing your eyes only enhances the extension of his touch as he continues. Everywhere Arthur’s fingers and lips graze, the sensation bursts forth to travel the entire scope of your body.

He eventually sits up on his knees, straddling your right leg, to pull at the strings of your skirt. He’s trying not to get impatient when his giant fingers fumble with the ties. But quick enough, the waistline comes loose and Arthur’s fingers hook underneath and slowly pull the fabric back to expose your hips, and all their glory in between, before showcasing your legs.

Arthur’s hand comes up to cover his mouth in awe as he takes in the sight of you lying naked beneath him. Slightly embarrassed under his heated gazed, you instinctively pull your legs up a bit, curling in on yourself like a potato bug to try to hide from the exposure. Upon seeing your reaction, Arthur gives you a reassuring smile and leans overtop of you to protectively shield you from the world outside the shelter. His hand caresses your face, a gesture so gentle that belies his gruff exterior.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” he whispers to you, kissing your temple. But Arthur’s compliment only makes your cheeks turn as red as the fire outside as you hide your face into his bare chest.

“Stop it”, you mumble into his muscles, self-conscious of his praise.

“Oh, so it's okay for you to say nice things, but not me?” he teases with that gruff baritone voice. “I see how it's gonna be.”

“You deserve to hear it more than I do.” Your voice is small and humble, averting your eyes from his as you roll your fingertips around his chest hair.

“Bullshit. If that ain’t the biggest lie I ever heard…”, his nose nudging against yours before encompassing your mouth with his own again.

Arthur carefully moves to crawl completely over you. Both of you are shaking slightly, but it's not from the chill night air. His movements are slow at first, terrified of hurting you physically or offending you with his pent up lust. His hands begin to roam more freely over your skin, which is softer than he ever dreamed.

Now that he finally has you, Arthur is eager to see every bit of you. His lips kiss over the faint lines and stretch marks that occasionally decorate your skin. His fingertips trace them first as he discovers every bit of you. His attention eventually lands on the soft swell of your breasts, which he caresses before clamping his hot mouth over the nipple, his tongue flicking and swirling over the highly-sensitive skin. You softly hum as your hands find their way to come up again to finger through his hair, your nails dragging slightly across his scalp before lightly grabbing onto the thick waves.

Your image, your shape, gets burned into Arthur’s brain as he continues his line of kisses and fingertrails all over your body: every curve, every freckle, even the soft roll of your stomach and hips. Everywhere Arthur touches makes you melt, as his hands are hot like the sun from his own want mixed with his nervousness.

Your heat is so sensitive as his hand carefully drops to caress it, causing you to jump slightly with a whimper. His fingertips linger around your soft mound until they dance along the delicate folds, already slick with want as you buck slightly into his hand, panting hotly into his mouth. His face now hovers so close to yours, close enough for his eyelashes to tickle your skin, as he gently slips a digit into you. Your spine arches back at the sensation of it, a breathless moan escaping your kiss-swollen lips and your toes begin to curl in pleasure.

Arthur watches your reaction carefully as he pumps his finger into you. Your eyes roll back as your chin lifts, your mouth sharply sucking in air. Your hand desperately reaches out to grasp his bicep with desire. Your eyes open again to meet his gaze, burning into each other with such intensity. His hand moves faster, adding a second digit now, and curls them to rub that certain spot so perfectly. The sensation draws the most beautiful moan from your lips. It is a sound that almost makes Arthur weep.

Suddenly, the realization of what’s about to happen hits him. What if he’s not good enough? What if you reject him after this? What if he hurts you? What if this ruins the one good thing he has in his life? Arthur pauses in his worship of you, retracting from between your legs for a moment. His hand graces over your forehead as his thumb lingers at the corner of your eyebrow.

“Are you sure this is what you want, (Y/N)?” His eyes crease with concern as he searches yours, not 100% sure if he should continue. “We don’t have to do this right now.”

But you are getting restless. You’ve been pushed to the limit in body, mind, and soul by this man and it is time to put an end to your longing. You cup Arthur’s face again with a look of seriousness settling across your features as you are afraid that maybe he is having second thoughts after all.

Your (y/e/c) eyes burn into his with such intensity and longing. “I only want you, Arthur. Of that, I am certain.”

Arthur inhales deeply, weighing the possible consequences. “If this is too much, you need to tell me. Promise?”

You lift up slightly and give him a chaste kiss upon his plump lips. “I promise.”

Giving a faint smile in acceptance, Arthur pulls away from you. He carefully stands up again, stooping slightly in the small shelter, and begins to unbuckle his pants. With no union suit on today, his remaining layers of clothing are quick to come off. His hardened cock springs forth from its confines as he bends to shuck the pants and boots from his legs.

You watch him intently, taking in the vision of him. Arthur truly is a beautiful specimen of a man. You have patched him up multiple times after jobs and fights, and of course there was that time when you accidentally stumbled upon him bathing in the river, so you have seen him before. But now you are free to observe his body, to truly take in the sight of him and appreciate the man standing before you.

Of course, he is muscular, his arms and thighs thick from years of hard labor. His entire body is littered with hair, but not in an unpleasant way. Now that he is completely naked in front of you, even more scars are made known to you. You notice old knife wounds on his thighs and an old white scar creeping up along his shin. He almost resembles a ragdoll, one that is tattered and has been stitched back together over time.

Arthur tosses his pants to the side and looks down at you, hesitating when he notices how keenly you gaze at him. Seeing his look of concern, you sit up to run your hands up his thighs and reach over his abdomen, making the mental note of how his bodyhair trials downward towards the V between his legs. When your face tilts upwards towards his, he leans in for another impassioned kiss before gently pushing you back down and settling himself between your legs.

Arthur shifts between your hips, getting his knees and elbow set. Caging you underneath him, he begins to rock back and forth causing his whole body to rub against yours. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a relaxed state like no other. You can feel his cock beginning to twitch as it pushes against your heat as if begging for attention. You hear him hiss slightly under his breath, fighting to keep his composure before he loses all self control. The sound makes you moan and mewl on your own accord.

Finally, it’s at the point where Arthur just can’t wait any longer, and neither can you by the way you're grasping and whining at him. He reaches down between you to line himself up and pushes himself into you so gently. Your hand immediately shoots out to his shoulder, bracing yourself. He's well-endowed between his legs and he knows it. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze as he stretches you so wonderfully below, causing you to lightly gasp. He watches your face as you wince slightly, letting out a brief whimper as he pushes. He's trying to be so mindful of your comfort, knowing he's going to fully bury himself into you to the hilt.

"You alright?" Arthur cautiously asks as he grabs and hooks his arm under your leg, lifting it up and over his hip to open you up more to him.

"Yes", you pant out, smiling sweetly and lifting your face up to kiss him gently again. He takes a brief moment to get himself adjusted and then begins to move, causing your breathing to be heavy in his ear. He pushes his cock all the way into you, grunting at the heavenly sensation of it, before retracting again. He moves so slowly at first, but then begins to move at a steady pace. The experience is so utterly amazing to you both as you can feel every inch of each other in the most intimate of ways.

He begins to pump himself in and out as your whole body moves with him. You hook your arm around Arthur’s wide shoulders and neck while the other hand has a tight grasp onto his bicep, fingers digging into the muscles there. After a few moments, he wants to ask again if you're okay, but when your mouth falls open and he hears the words, "damn, Arthur" whispered into his ear, he knows his answer.

But you can still see the apprehension in Arthur’s face; feel it in his fingers as he touches you. He buries his face into your neck and holds you so tightly as his hips find their place in a steady rhythm between yours. Yet Arthur is still so hesitant, still holding back from you as if nervous.

"Arthur…I need you," your whisper to him barely audible.

“You're sure about this?” he asks again, lifting his face from your neck to look into yours. “I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, (Y/N), after everything and all.” Arthur sweetly searches for any misgivings, for any sign that you are not ready for this next step.

“I want all of you, Arthur," your voice yearning with desire as you cup his face again. You are so touched that this sometimes-brutal man can be so careful with you, especially in this situation. "It’s okay. I’m tougher than you think." You give him a little nod as his favorite little smile graces your lips once more.

And just like that, that confirmation is all that Arthur needs as he suddenly crashes into your lips, hot and all consuming this time. His thrusts instantly become deep and steady as his hips begin to snap sharply into yours with the ferocity of a caged beast that has been released back into the wild. And you gasp in the most satisfied way as you give in to him.

“That’s it,” you pant, praising him as you wrap your one leg around his waist to pull him deeper into you, while using the other to stabilize yourself against his force and push yourself up to receive him.

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to give in to his long-denied desires and lose himself completely, drowning in his senses. He didn’t realize just how empty his soul was until you were there to fill it again. And you are more than happy to be the one to provide that comfort to him. It’s the simplest, yet most selfless thing that you could offer him with your humble existence.

Arthur used to think that he just wanted to disappear sometimes, to get lost from everyone and everything in the world. But what he realizes is that all he’s ever wanted was to be truly found. And clinging to him, you are just as desperate as Arthur is. Loneliness isn’t something just for an outlaw. You wrap yourself up into him, into his arms, against his barrel chest which is heaving and trying to catch the air for the lungs within as he moves faster and faster on top of you.

“Don’t let me go." Your plea wafts into his ear as tears form in the corners of your eyes as the weight of everything that you've been through and everything you've been waiting for, finally comes to a culmination.

”Never” is all he manages to murmur in response, not even sure if you hear him.

The feeling of Arthur on top of you, of him inside of you, is so wonderfully overwhelming and electric. The fullness of him inside you, his rough hands on your skin, his soft lips nipping at your jawline, and his hot breath on your neck, it’s all as if lightning has hit you and is traveling throughout your entire body. Your skin is buzzing with the exquisite sensation, acutely aware of even his chest hair as it drags and rubs against your sensitive breasts as he moves.

Arthur grabs onto your hip again, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there. There will be slight bruising there for sure later, but neither of you are in any frame of mind to acknowledge or care right now. His cock continues to ram into you, hitting the back of your walls as his girth stretches you so wonderfully. His thrusts are sharp and hard, more desperate than harsh, chasing you, as if you’ll vanish from him in moments like the sun burning the morning fog away.

It is a good thing that your first time together is out and away from anyone else in camp. It gives you both the opportunity to explore and appreciate each other properly. But it also allows you to be free and unrestricted, as the sounds of your lovemaking burst forth in waves of moaning, squeals, and grunting, only getting louder and louder with each cascading wave of building ecstasy.

Looking down at you, Arthur never thought he’d see you like this: flushed and pupils blown, your mouth fallen open and making the most incredible noises in his ear. In all the time he's watched you from afar and sketched your image to keep privately for himself, Arthur never dreamed it could be like this. He looks down at himself pounding into you, watching how your body shudders with each stroke. Like a musician playing a fiddle, you move and moan with his fingers. Your chest heaves while your back arches at an almost inhuman angle, desperate to receive more of him. It makes him want you even more. It's crazy how your body responds in perfect union to his. Every time you moan his name in broken syllables and wanton whispers, Arthur shudders and groans even more as it is a confirmation that you are really here for him and only him. And like a selfish child, he wants you all to himself.

The two of you form a beautifully ungraceful knot of limbs and noises, hard to tell where one of you begins and the other ends. Arthur rocks into your hips like a wave on the ocean, repeatedly surging and retreating. Your hands wrap under his arms to grip the planes of his back as your fingers dig into the hard muscle there, clawing for a handhold. You draw your knee up, causing your hips to open wider and granting Arthur more access to your core before your heels dig into the backs of his thighs. And in reaction to your movements, he swallows each of your gasps with his mouth, hungry for you. He winds his hand up into your hair again, pulling slightly to tip your chin back to expose the delicate area of your throat and allowing him to claim what is his with a twinkle of pure delight in his eyes. Your mouth opens up into a soundless scream, an airless breath that fights to escape your chest. And all the while, you are completely absent of coherent thought. Your mind is taken over by the feel of Arthur completely encompassing you.

This goes on for what seems like hours, as time seems to stand still. For the first time in forever, this feels different for both of you. You cling to Arthur as if your life depends on it because maybe it does. Arthur is the very air you breathe. But that is okay, because he clings to you just the same. The two of you lie there, skin against skin, yet you still try to pull each other even closer. It's a wonder that either of you can move at all for how tightly you hold each other. But it's because you move in perfect unison together that you are able to make it work so heavenly.

In this beautiful moment, nestled in the thick of the forest and caressed by the darkness of the night, yet kissed by the glow of a fire, you and Arthur give in to each other so completely and so deeply, each finding that missing piece in each other to make you both whole once more. He is the strength that you so desperately need, and you are the hope and humanity that he lost so long ago.

Lightning begins to build in your abdomen as your climax is soon to come. You can’t even form words to tell him, but Arthur can tell by how much faster you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your hot breath dances across Arthur’s neck as your bottom teeth drag along his earlobe, causing an almost animalistic grunt to erupt from him.

Now it’s your turn to dig your fingers with bruising pressure as your fingernails begin to cut into the flesh of his strong back, holding onto him desperately while the crescendo builds between your legs. You throw your head back with a loud and overwhelmed moan the moment it hits, stars clouding your vision as your climax comes hard with full force like a tidal wave. Arthur stares at you, mesmerized, as his hand comes up to cradle your face as if he’s trying to actually catch the feeling of it into his palm. He is utterly amazed by you. He can’t remember when, or even if, he’s seen a woman react to his touch like this.

And with this sight, Arthur is soon to follow you. Moaning loudly, his eyes shoot wide before screwing tightly shut again to brace himself for the impending sensation about to rock his entire body. And the intensity of his orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks. Arthur quickly reaches up to fist your hair again as he pulls himself out of you just in time to release between your thighs. The muscles of his entire body tense up and restrict, clamping down tightly onto your body underneath him. His breathing becomes staggered and jagged as he sputters to catch his breath.

Arthur has a split second of panic as he pulls out of you, not sure if he has timed himself properly. He almost doesn’t make it because he can barely pry himself from your reflexive grasp to move. Aside from the obvious precautions against pregnancy, Arthur doesn't want to offend you by assuming he could release inside of you.

Arthur remains motionless for a few moments, still trying to catch his breath from his own orgasm, before his bear-like frame collapses onto you. You notice how sweetly his legs and arms tremble as he tries not to crush you beneath him. His face returns to the crook of your neck, panting hot breath onto your sweat-glistening skin. The cool night air is a blessing as a slight breeze chases away the excessive heat that radiates off of your naked bodies. You slowly drag your fingers up the valley of his spine, dancing along the back of his neck and into his hair as the feather-light touch of your fingers causes him to shudder again. You let out a satisfied moan as you flex your fingers into his sweat-damp hair.

Arthur eventually pulls himself up onto his elbows to look you in the face again and is relieved to be greeted by the softest of smiles. You place your hand along his cheek again, just as you did before, and lift up to pepper his face with sweet kisses along his jaw and his cheek and over his eyelids and nose.

Carefully, Arthur rolls off of you and onto his left side, but keeps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he moves. He reaches over you to grab his neckerchief that was discarded earlier and uses it to gently clean your legs and then himself before tossing it aside once more.

Laying there wrapped up into each other’s arms, you forget that the rest of the world exists. You stare into each other's eyes, soaking up the reality of what has just happened between you, as your hand floats up to nestle your fingertips in between the pectoral muscles of his chest. There is a new sense of depth to Arthur’s ocean-blue eyes, a calmness that you haven’t seen before. Arthur studies your face, taking in the way the firelight catches in your irises and mapping the curvature of your lips that he has to fight the urge to kiss again and again.

“So now what?” Arthur asks, finally breaking the blissful silence.

You release a hum of contented exhaustion as you smile at him. "This doesn’t have to be anything that you don’t want it to be, Arthur. Although I’m really hoping it goes past this moment."

“I gotta be honest, (Y/N), I haven’t done this in a long time. I...I don’t know if I can.” He draws his lips inward, biting down slightly as he’s embarrassed to tell you this, worried you’ll reject him here and now.

“But what you don’t realize, Arthur, is that’s where you have me at a disadvantage,” you tell him with a voice so soft and gentle. “At least you’ve had love before. I’ve never been fortunate enough to have what you had, even if it was only for a brief window of time.” You lovingly reach over and run the pads of your fingers over his lips and chin. A lop-sided grin dusts your face as you study him for a moment. “You are capable of so much more than you know, Arthur. I can’t wait for the day that you realize that.”

Arthur hums in contemplation, averting his eyes for a moment as the corners of his mouth lift a bit. His fingertips roll over the delicate skin of your back as your words embed themselves into his mind.

“I don’t want anything from you, Arthur. I just simply want you.” Your breathy voice carries your warm proclamation, assured with the glinting look that you give him.

“This could go so wrong, you know,” he warns, his eyebrows knit with concern as his gaze meets yours once again.

“True. But, it could go so right, too,” you counter with a smirk. “This could be the best thing to happen to either of us, Arthur." You reach over again and gracefully run your fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek again as your thumb gently swipes over his bottom lip. "And I think you’re worth the risk.”

Arthur runs his hand along your back and over your hips, taking in all of your beautiful words. He thinks he is just so ordinary. Or maybe not even that. But to you, he is extraordinary, vast and breathtaking like the bluest sky over the valley. And he can see it in your eyes when you look at him and it makes it hard for him to breathe.

“Do you have any idea what you do to a man?”, he finally smirks, his eyebrows arching questioningly at you.

A coy smile dances upon the petals of your lips in return. “Don’t care about other men. Just you.”

That affirmation causes Arthur’s heart to soar higher than the stars sparkling in the sky above you, and he surges forward and into your lips again. He doesn’t want this moment to end, but only to fold the two of you up into it forever. You smile and hum into Arthur's mouth as his tongue pushes over yours again and again as you can feel his confidence building with each caress of his strong hands across your body.

When you feel him harden against your legs again, you take advantage of the opportunity and gently push the man over to climb on top of him. Your hair falls to create an intimate curtain, housing your two faces so sweetly as you catch Arthur’s lips with your own. You pull away from his mouth and begin to place kisses along his neck and over his shoulder. The thin blanket that Arthur had wrapped around the two of you slowly falls away to expose your naked body to the cool night air once more, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin.

Using one hand to steady yourself, you use the other to explore Arthur’s muscled chest, rolling over the chest hair that decorates his weathered skin. Playing on both angles, you draw your leg up along Arthur’s body, running your knee and leg along his side, while simultaneously moving your hand and lips down his thick torso. The full body caress makes Arthur’s whole body come to life. His body is used to hardship and blows; to be abused and pushed to the limits of its capabilities. Certainly not this type of coveted affection and touching that you are providing him now.

Arthur’s head rolls back with a moan as he is now the one being taken care of. His head thumps back against your make-shift pillow with a soft ‘thud’ sound as his hands land on your shoulders, massaging the muscle there between his strong fingers as you travel downward along his body. Your trail of kisses leads you down to his hips as your hair feathers out over his abdomen.

His breath suddenly hitches as he quickly looks down as you hover over his cock. You look up at him and meet his gaze, before you duck back down, gently taking his large cock into your hand. Arthur’s eyes go wide then immediately heavy-lidded as the heat from your mouth envelops his tip before slowing working down the thickness of his shaft.

You have only done this a few times before now, and Arthur is much larger than you're used to. But desire is a wonderful motivator. Your head starts to bob slowly at first before picking up a faster pace. Using your hand, you're able to take him entirely into your mouth without gagging. Your tongue wraps around the shaft before teasingly flicking at the tip. The muscles of your mouth firmly encompass his cock, creating the most blissful sensation of pressure and suction as you pull up and down. You can hear the hissing and moaning sounds the man is making and it only increases your confidence in your performance, and you change your technique to elicit the specific sound you desire from his trembling lips.

Right now, you only want to take care of Arthur; to make him feel good and show him the attention that he so rightfully deserves. And yet, the idea that you could hold this strong and fearsome outlaw hostage in the palm of your hand is incredible. This position also gives you the opportunity to take note of just how large Arthur is. It’s little wonder how he was able to pull such an intense orgasm from the depth of your body just moments ago. The very memory of it causes your own desires to ramp up, as your heat begins to tingle and get wet between your legs again.

Once Arthur is at the point that he is rock-hard again, you slowly remove his cock from your mouth with a soft “pop” and gently rise-up to place yourself on top of him. Arthur watches you, captivated, as you crawl over him like an animal stalking its prey, and slowly rock back and forth, rubbing yourself against him. He’s tempted to take himself in hand, line himself up with your heat and push up into you again. But he’s too transfixed by your dominance at the moment to do anything but watch you move atop of him.

As if reading his mind, you smirk and you lift up a bit more, wrapping your hand around his rigid cock to guide yourself as you lower onto him, moaning softly and biting down on your lip as his size fills you up yet again. Your head drops back, hair cascading down your back, as you start to slow-grind on him in a hypnotic rhythm.

Finally able to pull his mind out of its lust-drunk fog, Arthur runs his hands up the front of your thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the plush skin there. He snakes one hand along your stomach and up into the valley between your breasts as the other hand lands on your hip, his fingers digging slightly to help hold the pace you are setting. Letting you take the lead this time allows Arthur to take in the sight of you as you straddle his hips with your own.

You're not perfect. But it’s your imperfections that make you perfect to Arthur. It really is as if you are made for each other. You have curves, for sure. You're not as small as some of the other girls in camp, but you fit into Arthur’s large hands perfectly. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to break you as if you are a porcelain doll. Your individual features are pleasant for sure, but taken in as a whole, you are striking. At least to Arthur you are.

He savors the touch of your soft skin against his which is rough and weathered; how the large orbs of your adoring eyes are looking down at him right now, and how you so generously take him into yourself. You are beautiful, you are kind…and you are his. And the two of you can’t get enough of each other.

For you, you had been so worried that what happened in Rosewood would have ruined you. And it almost did. But you didn’t want that act of depravity to define you. And you pulled from the common adversity of your new family to help rebuild your spirit like a phoenix rising from the ashes. And if that hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here now, like this. With Arthur.

If it were anyone else touching you like this, you’d probably curl up into a ball, retracting into yourself in fear or self-loathing. But with Arthur, you feel safe and shielded as if no one else in the world would, or could, touch you.

Arthur is different and you’ve always known it by the way he makes you feel, even when he simply speaks to you. He is warm and instantly feels familiar to you, like he has always been the other half of yourself. He feels solid and secure to your touch and almost makes you feel drunk with emotions that can’t even be named. The best feeling in the whole world is to be with someone who wants you just as much as you want them.

It's amazing how life works sometimes. Some people always have the sunshine in life while others always seem to get the rain. But sometimes, you really do need to suffer through the storm to see the magic of the rainbow at the end of it.

As you continue to ride him, Arthur can see and feel both of you rapidly approaching your conjoined climax again as he can feel the velvet walls of your heat clenching around his twitching cock inside of you. As you begin to move even faster, you take your hands off of where you've been holding on to Arthur’s forearms and lean over him to plant them on his shoulders. This angle gives you more leverage to grind Arthur even deeper into yourself, if that’s even possible. Harder, faster. Deeper than you thought possible, until you feel as if he’s up into your ribcage. Arthur reciprocates by bucking his hips up into yours with each stroke, causing you to gasp as the breath is taken right out of your lungs with the feel of it. And it’s shortly thereafter that you both start to grasp at each other again, bracing for the overstimulation about to hit.

Your climax is intense and hits first again. A sharp moan erupts from your lips as your head instantly snaps backwards. And as your muscles begin to go limp as you come down, Arthur grabs you and takes control, sitting up slightly to wrap his strong arms around you, and rides you through the surge of it.

Watching your eyes roll back into your head with a strained cry, he is quick to hit his own climax and swiftly lifts you up to pull himself out of you again. He pitches you forward, causing your trembling arms to brace yourself against him as he spills his seed along your conjoined thighs once more. It’s a good thing Arthur has a hold of you, too, as you are completely undone at this point, your whole body seemingly boneless. You roll your head to the side and close your eyes before leaning forward to collapse against his chest.

You both lay there for some time, motionless except for your heaving chests. Arthur’s massive arms encircle you to hold you tight to him as you curl up onto the plane of his chest, your fingers clutching at him. Eventually, you shift to lower yourself to lay along Arthur’s side. You turn into him and snuggle your face into his chest as your hand rests across his heart which you can feel beating like crazy beneath your palm. You absentmindedly rake your fingers through his chest-hair and lift your leg up and over to entwine with his, still trying to keep as close to him as possible.

Smiling slightly at the feeling of your warm body against his, Arthur pulls the blanket around you again to cover your naked body as it drapes over his own. He lays his hand atop of yours that rests on his chest and wraps his other arm around you to cradle you back into him, his hand tangling in your hair as he holds your head.

And here in this perfect little moment of satiated bliss, Arthur is happy.

“We could have done this a long time ago, you know,” you snicker as you roll your eyes up to look at him.

“Hmmm, don’t I know it. Remind me next time to listen to you, would ya?” He pulls his rough fingers along your spine and up over your bare shoulders, still fascinated by how soft your skin is.

“It’s like I told you before, Arthur: you look out for me, I’ll look out for you,” you say drowsily, as sleep is about to take over your worn-out senses. And within moments, you are asleep.

When you go silent and the only sound he hears is the crickets in the night, Arthur looks down at your form, curled up into him like a kitten and almost as fragile looking as one, too. He runs his fingertip along your shoulder again, admiring how the appendage curves. And as he watches you in your euphoric slumber, his mind starts to wander now that it’s quiet and his wits are about him once more.

It is amazing how this person who was once a total stranger to him can suddenly, and without warning, mean the world to him. You are everything Arthur has ever dared to hope for. And somehow, by some miracle, you have graced him with your affection. And Arthur knows it now: time, distance, background - nothing could separate you two. This is real and this is right. Arthur understands now that you are the person that he was always meant to find, and he is unimaginably captivated by you.

In the quiet night air, now that the symphony of moans and panting are done, the only sound carrying through the still night air is the popping of the fire as it dies down. The faint noise of a hooting owl in the trees can be heard off in the distance. Left to his own thoughts, Arthur’s reason and self-doubt begin to creep up again, but it’s only for a moment. Spreading like black ink, Micah’s words ring through his mind : if Arthur really cared for you, he’d save you the heartache and keep you safe from him and the trouble that someone like him brings.

But now, Arthur doesn’t think he could ever do that even if he tried. Selfishly, now that he has you, he doesn’t want to let you go. It would be like taking the air from his lungs or the blood from his heart. Arthur is all-consumed by you now. He could die tomorrow and he'll be a happy man.

What if he doesn’t run this time, but stays and lets your affection for him, possibly even love, overtake him? Arthur never fathomed that even something as simple as the sound of your voice could ever calm his soul like you have.

So instead of the foolish notion to leave you in order to protect you, Arthur determines he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe and protected in his care. He is your guardian, and you are his angel.

As he comes to this conclusion, Arthur’s powerful arms involuntarily tighten around you as if someone was going to come and take you away from him. He leans down and places an ever-so soft kiss on the top of your head, causing you to shift even closer into him in your sleep.

“I got you, baby-girl. I got you”, he whispers.

-----------------------------------------

Several hours go by and you slowly wake from your blissful slumber to the sound of chirping birds in the air. The lightening sky of soft lavender and subdued pinks washes over the landscape and creeps its way into the hunting shelter, intruding upon the blissful solitude where you and Arthur are still tucked away.

The last few plumes of smoke from the dying fire slowly waft through the air. Both of you must have been worn out from your passionate love-making as you are both in the same position as when you fell asleep in each other's arms. The slightly damp, cool breeze of the morning blows across your exposed shoulder, causing you to stir. You slowly stretch and curl into a tighter ball around the bulk of the man beneath you. You inhale deeply as your muscles flex and you instantly catch his scent. The smell of leather and cigarettes, mixed with a bit of clove from his soap, fills your nose. It instantly makes you smile in your hazy sleep, remembering where you are and that this is indeed not a dream.

Arthur refused to sleep much overnight, keeping a watchful eye on you as you slept, but he did end up dozing lightly here and there. When he feels you move against his bare skin, warm and soothing, he peels open his blue-green eyes with a sleepy grunt and peers down at you.

“Hey you,” he murmurs softly as he runs his thumb across your temple. You smile, inhaling deeply again, taking a moment to appreciate where you are before you reply with your own sleep-hushed “Hey you”.

“We’re gonna have to get goin’ here soon, little miss. Dutch ain’t gonna be too happy if we’re out much longer.” Arthur’s voice is thick with sleep and, of course, carrying with it the reluctant tone to enforce what he's saying.

You groan in disappointment, burying your face back into him as you shuffle a bit as your limbs slowly awaken once more. “You sure that’s the way you want to go?” you ask coyly, as you start to leave kisses on Arthur’s chest while seductively drawing circles on his skin with your fingertip.

“Aw c’mon, you’re killin’ me,” he whines, causing you to giggle mischievously. Arthur wraps you up into his arms and squeezes tightly before relaxing again. When you’re able to lift your head, you reach up to pull his face to yours and plant a soft, yet very intimate kiss on his lip. Your eyes create that dreamy, longing stare again as you look up into his face and run your knuckles along his cheek.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, you know that?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I know.” With a quick kiss to his nose, you slowly sit up and stretch, looking around for your clothes with a sigh of disappointment. “But I suppose you’re right. We should get going.”

Arthur reluctantly sits up as well, leaning over to kiss your naked shoulder as he runs his hand slowly down your back, his touch tickling your skin. Your eyes slowly float closed as you turn your head into his, trying to savor every last bit of time you have alone together.

“Trust me, Darlin’, I’d stay out here with you forever if I could,” he mumbles into your skin as his nose and lips smoosh into your shoulder as if trying to melt the two of you together.

“Yeah, yeah, promises, promises,” you joke as you roll over to grab your blouse and skirt. Arthur sees the perfect opportunity and playfully smacks your exposed butt, pulling a slight squeak from your lips.

But soon enough, the two of you get yourselves together. You reluctantly pull apart from one another long enough to pack up the few things you had brought with you in your hasty departure yesterday and prepare to leave the little hunting lean-to and head back to camp. The sun has awakened as well at this point and begins to shine down, its beams freckling through the tree branches. It is a gloriously beautiful morning and you look upon it with a whole new sense of wonder and happiness in your heart.

As you shake out the blanket and roll it up in your hands, Arthur stands hesitantly behind you, watching you gracefully move as you tuck the last bit of things onto Buck’s saddle. Noticing him out of the corner of your eye, you turn and give him a curious look. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine. Just rolling the last 12 hours around in my head," he mumbles, swirling his hand in the air by his temple. "It’s hard to believe what just happened.” Arthur smiles sheepishly, rubbing his hand along his chin as he thinks about his current situation.

So much has changed in the last few days, let alone hours. From the fighting between you, to his ride to Rosewood; from the confessions to the embrace. And of course, the beautiful night you’ve just spent together. The river of emotions have weighed heavily on Arthur, leaving him delightfully overwhelmed and uncharacteristically content.

You beam with sparkling eyes as you take a few steps over to him. “Well, now you can touch whenever you want to. That should be fun, yeah?” You reach your arms around his barrel-chest, squeezing him to you, and lift your face upwards to start placing sweet kisses along his face and neck.

"Whatcha doin?” Arthur asks cautiously, a suspicious eyebrow raised, but one that belies the grin creeping across his bearded face.

“Just lovin' up on you again,” you giggle into his neck. "Something tells me you're past due and I got a lot of time to make up for."

A low hum rumbles from deep in his chest as Arthur folds you up against him, squeezing you into a strong embrace in return. He collects your beautiful face into his giant hands and leans down to kiss you deeply. Your breath rolls over each other’s as you indulge your senses yet again. Once more, the rest of the world falls away the moment your lips touch. The feeling leaves your knees weak and you have to fight the urge to push it farther as your arms tighten around his torso and begin to creep up his back.

When he pulls back again, Arthur looms over you, looking down into your face and admiring the precious gift he’s holding in his hands. He gives a slight shake to his head, absolutely blown away by his dumb-luck and how he’s managed to fall ass-backwards into your life. Arthur stares at you for a moment, those vivid blue eyes of his bright with a whole new purpose behind them as you reflect back to him the most resplendent smile he has ever seen.

“Mine,” he whispers.

“Yours,” you respond breathlessly.

----------------------------------------

It is mid-morning by the time you and Arthur make your way back to camp. You’re not too sure of what you’ll come back to, but prepare yourselves for the teasing and cat-calls you’re sure are coming. Thankfully, though, it’s mostly knowingly smirks and waves that greet you. A slight wave of relief settles over you at that, as you are not sure how Arthur would react to such personal teasing. Despite the connection that the two of you have, he is still very much a private person.

You both get Arthur’s horse taken care of, offer your apologies to a very agitated Blue for being left behind, and then head over to Pearson’s wagon to get some much-needed coffee. The camp is relatively quiet this morning, with a few members milling about with their own agendas. The slight breeze waffs the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee in your direction and pulls you like a tether. You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly rolling shut, and smile with the feeling of “being home”. This little moment is so perfect: a beautiful morning, surrounded by friends, hot coffee on the fire, and your man at your side.

“There’s the love-birds,” Pearson chimes loudly with a wink when he notices you and Arthur. The cook stirs the last remnants of breakfast in his pot, clanging the utensil loudly on the side to shake off whatever coats the spoon. The portly man quickly puts down the ladle and grabs the coffee pot and a few cups for you.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Arthur, waving him off as his face turns a slight shade of pink. You simply smile and gratefully take the cup from Pearson’s hand. A quick, eager sip of the hot, bitter liquid cascades down your throat, warming you from the inside out and a soft “Ahhhh” escapes your lips. And before the two of you can do anything else, you are greeted by the sound of Dutch’s voice carrying through the air.

“Well, well, nice of you two to join us again!”

You and Arthur both turn to see Dutch and Hosea approach and notice Hosea holding a few rolls of paper in his hands.

“Are you two done foolin’ around so we can get some work done around here?” asks Dutch, raising his eyebrows at you both in impatience with a slight wave of his arm.

“For now,” you quip back. “But I was hoping to fool around a bit again before dinner”. You give Dutch a cocky smirk and a wink.

Hosea's face wrinkles delightfully as he tries to stifle a laugh while Arthur lowers his head to hide a huge smile under the brim of his hat at your insinuation. But the look on Dutch’s face is anything but amused by your comment right now.

“Not in the mood. Right,” you say awkwardly under Dutch’s impatient glare, clearing your throat and quickly minding your place. “I’ll just...go somewhere over there.” You wave your hand dismissively towards the center of the camp before turning to Arthur. “I’ll see you later, Arthur,” you giggle.

Placing your hand on his arm, you give it a slight squeeze along with a big smile. He gives you a quick nod before you quickly scurry away from the men. Arthur’s eyes continue to follow after you, landing on the curve of your rear as you walk away, instantly missing your presence. He reluctantly turns back to Dutch only to be met with the older man’s stink-eye look.

“What?” asks Arthur innocently, chuckling a little.

Dutch plants his ringed hands onto his hips in annoyance, tilting his head to the side just a bit as he looks at Arthur. “This is going to get really old, really fast, isn’t it?” asks Dutch with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, leave him alone, Dutch. He’s finally got a good thing goin’ there for himself,” interrupts Hosea approvingly with a knowing grin on his face. “Now, come on you two. We need to go over these carrier routes.” Hosea waves the papers he’s been holding in front of them and motions to the nearest table with his head.

Leaving the three of them to their business, you take your cup of coffee and saunter over to the fire to take advantage of a rare quiet morning to relax. Noticing that you are back in camp, Abigail is quick to run up to you with a huge cheshire-cat-like smile sparkling on her face.

“Well, good morning, Miss (Y/L/N),” Abigail sings as she hustles over, shimmying up to you and elbowing your arm. “Soooo?” she questions you with a smirk.

But you playfully roll your eyes at her and shake your head as you take a seat next to the other girls who are already gathered around the fire and trying to wake up for the day. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell," you tease Abigail with a grin, demurely pulling your shoulder to your chin.

“Well, we know there was more than kissin’ going on last night, so why don’t you tell us about that then?” jokes Abigail, swatting your arm.

"So tell us, (Y/N)! How was it?" Karen blurts out eagerly. Her sleepy face instantly perks up the moment you sit down.

"Karen!" scolds Mary-Beth in a hushed tone. Judging by their snickering, you can only imagine that your departure last night has been the talk of the camp.

"What?” Karen protests innocently to Mary-Beth. “I'm genuinely curious.” She waves her hand nonchalantly towards you. “I wanna know if it was worth all the trouble and the wait.” When Mary-Beth gives nothing but a disapproving stare, Karen leans in to her and swats her friend’s leg. “Oh c'mon, like you ain't dyin' to know yourself," she hisses.

"Actually, I'm kind of curious about it myself," interjects Abigail, looking back to you with that same cat-like grin.

“Yeah, (Y/N), how’d it go?” asks Tilly, leaning forward in her chair and planting her elbows on her knees in keen interest.

It is so sweet to you how your friends want to share in your excitement. You’ve never had siblings, and even your friendships as a young girl were never as open and close as the relationships that you have quickly cultivated with these women. Your face begins to bashfully dust pink at their attention, yet you can’t help yourself as your smile gets even wider by the minute.

“Some of the best moments in life are the things that you can’t tell other people about,” you gush, yet still trying to be elusive.

“Oh, come on! That ain’t fair! You gotta give us somethin’!” begs Karen, smacking her hands on her thighs and leaning in towards you.

You simply reply with a long, mockingly-impatient sigh before your face turns a deeper shade of scarlet. You cover your face with your hands for a few moments before pulling them down to peek over your fingertips at your friends, blushing and giggling like a school-girl.

"It was...perfect," you say with a dreamy, love-drunk grin on your face.

“Ooooo” They all let out a collective excited giggle, elbowing each other and so happy for both you and for Arthur.

—------------------------------

Fortunately, it is a bit of a slow day today and Ms Grimshaw is not chasing after everyone to get back to work for once. So you are able to just sit and socialize with the girls. You pass the time sipping coffee and gossiping, discussing what the plans are for the day and watching Jack play “swords” with a stick with Uncle. It is a perfectly content afternoon for once.

Somewhere off to the side you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat before they approach your little group. You turn your head when movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and instantly grin ear to ear when you see that it is Arthur. The way your whole body lights up the moment that you see him makes Arthur instantly wish you were back at the hunting shelter. You’ve only been apart for a little over an hour and yet it already feels like days.

"Ladies", he addressed the group of you with a nod and polite touch to the brim of his hat.

"Hey, Arthur" they all giggle and smirk at the outlaw at their inside joke. You are quick to swat at them, trying to get them to hush.

"Uh...right.” His hand comes up behind his neck as he stands there awkwardly, suddenly a little uncomfortable with their smirking faces all turned to him. “(Y/N), can I talk to you for a minute?" He waves his hand to usher you away from the small group to speak in private.

“Sure.” You bounce up from your seat to follow him, turning back over your shoulder with a quick glare at your friends in warning to knock it off with the teasing cackles.

You and Arthur walk a few feet away from the girls before you stop and turn to face each other. "Don't mind them,” you say quickly to Arthur, waving at the girls. “They're just..." and you roll your eyes and shake your head, totally at a loss for words.

“Hmmm…yeah I know how they can get,” Arthur acknowledges with a chuckle. He pauses for a moment, looking down at you with a bit of a dopey grin. This is the first time you’ve had a moment alone together again since you’ve gotten back and he’s missed you already.

“Listen, I gotta leave for a bit. Hosea’s got a lead on some work, need to check it out. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyebrows raise a bit, waiting to see how you will react to this information.

“Okay”. You nod in understanding, giving him a simple smile. Your response is so easy and accepting. Arthur was expecting a protest or for you to be upset, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you are not.

“Well, after last night, I wasn’t sure if it was proper to leave.” He gives you a sheepish, guilty look as his thumbs tuck into his gunbelt in his usual, comfortable stance.

You place your hands over his arms as you lean in closer. “It’s alright. Go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here.”

Arthur hesitates for a moment as something else is clearly on his mind, and he shifts his weight from one hip to the other before he speaks again. “One more thing. Would you do something for me?” His eyes squint just a bit as he thinks on how to pose his next question.

“Anything.” You smile at him, moving your hands onto his chest now, and your fingers begin to fiddle with the knot of his neckerchief. Arthur hums a little, his eyes following your fingers and trying not to get distracted from his task at hand.

“Stay here in camp ‘til I get back, would ya? Don't be goin' out with the girls or nothin'. I’d feel better knowing you were safe here 'til I got back.” Arthur’s face becomes more serious now. You instantly realize what he’s asking of you and why, and his protectiveness is quite touching. You are relieved to see that Arthur has already taken to the idea of the two of you being “together” and it warms your heart.

“Sure, I can do that,” you agree and your smile grows even bigger like a plant that has been watered and set in the sun. You take Arthur’s chin in your fingers and pull him down as you raise up on your toes to kiss him sweetly. He blushes a bit at the public display of affection that he's not used to. But he loves it just the same.

"Be careful, please." You playfully scold him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Always am," Arthur smirks.

From somewhere behind him, you can hear Bill yelling for him. “Come on Morgan, let’s go!” Arthur lets out an exasperated sigh as he looks at you, rolling his eyes before he turns to leave and making you giggle.

“Play nice!”, you call after him as Arthur begrudgingly walks away.

"Never do!" he calls back with another smirk and a wink at you over his shoulder.

Your eyes follow Arthur with a contented sigh escaping your lips as he walks towards the awaiting group that is about to head out. His broad shoulders rock slightly with his slow, swaggering walk; his burly arms sway at his sides, hovering above the guns that hang so naturally on his hips.

Yep. No doubt about it. You are just stupid for, and hopelessly in love with, this man.

You shake your head at the wonder of it all and turn to head back to the girls.

Arthur makes his way over to the hitching posts to join the others in getting ready to head out on the scout job. He lifts his chin in acknowledgement to John who is already sitting atop Old Boy, waiting for Arthur to join the group. Then suddenly Arthur is brought out of his reverie by an unwelcome sound.

“So you and (Y/N) have finally done the deed, eh, Morgan?” The sound of Micah’s voice grates on Arthur’s nerves like a knife scraping across metal as the man saunters over to follow Arthur to the horses. (Ugh, of course Dutch wants him for this job, as well.)

“Well, how was she?” the bastard grunts. “I bet she’s real frisky. Like a cat.” Micah shakes his eyebrows suggestively at Arthur, knowing full-well that he’s pressing his luck.

A lightning bolt of anger shoots through Arthur’s very being at the very mention of your name from Micah’s despicable lips. His jaw flexes tightly as he grits his teeth together. He reaches out and shoves his massive hand onto Micah’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. Arthur pulls a deep inhale through his nose in order to collect himself before he speaks. His eyes turn to that hard, icy-blue color as they pierce menacingly into Micah.

“Let’s get something straight right now.” Arthur points his finger at Micah’s chest. “You don’t talk about her. You don’t look at her. In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t even think about her. Or you and I are goin' to go rounds. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Arthur’s voice is low and unyielding. That hardness that the outlaw is known for rears its dangerous head in Micah’s direction and the weasel freezes, instantly knowing where that line in the sand has been drawn.

“Say it,” Arthur slowly grits out between clenched teeth as he menacingly towers over Micah. “Say you understand me, asshole.”

Micah narrows his eyes at Arthur, the argument right there on the tip of his foul tongue, trying to decide just how far he wants to push this right now. But ultimately, he slowly swallows and concedes to back off. For now.

“Sure, cowpoke,” utters Micah, holding his hands up in surrender. “Anything you say.” His scummy, snakelike grin leaves Arthur with an unsettling feeling. If he didn’t like you being around Micah before, Arthur sure as hell doesn't like it now.

—------------------------------

It’s well into the evening when Arthur and the others come back to camp. It’s been a long, yet productive day and Arthur just wants to sit still for one damn moment and relax. Everyone who was left at home is sitting around the fire sharing stories and passing a bottle or two. Your head perks up when you hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance and you watch Arthur ride in. You notice how he slowly climbs down from Buck’s saddle, almost bone by bone, with exhaustion. As he turns to head into the camp, the outlaw’s tired eyes immediately seek you out amongst the group. And once your eyes meet, your smile draws him in like a moth to a flame.

Arthur stops to grab a bottle of his own out of one of the crates before ambling over to the fire to take a seat next to you on the ground where you are curled up on a blanket. You nudge your shoulder into his side as he gets settled, placing your hand on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. The corners of Arthur’s mouth turn up as his eyes slowly blink at you with fatigue. The feeling of your warm body curled up against him instantly calms and centers him. He didn’t realize until now just how nice it is to have someone waiting for him when he comes home.

“Before you two get too cozy over there, you’re on guard duty tonight, Arthur,” announces Javier over the fire pit, interrupting your little private reunion.

Arthur quickly throws an annoyed look in Javier's direction. “What? You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“I covered for you last night, amigo” Javier tips his beer bottle towards Arthur with a knowing smirk.

Arthur groans with disappointment. Feeling his frustrations, you lean into Arthur’s side, your face close to his. “Don’t worry, it’s alright,” you whisper. “We’ll have plenty of time later.” Fortunately, you get at least an hour together to relax at the fire before Arthur has to take his leave to head to the look-out post.

Soon after, after the darkness has snuffed out the sunlight of the day, the camp begins to settle for the evening and the people begin to meander back to their respective places for the night. You stand up from your spot at the fire, stretching your stiff joints before bending over to pick up the blanket you were sitting on. Shaking out the fabric, you neatly fold the blanket over your arm and turn to head to your tent.

You haven’t wandered too far off when you begin to hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you. And before you can say or do anything, the sight of Micah Bell comes into your line of vision. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you wonder what in the world he could possibly want right now.

“Looks like you and Arthur have finally "consummated", as it were. Tell me, (Y/N),” Micah sweeps his hand out in front of him, “Can anyone take a ride in that saddle?"

You can only glare incredulously at him for such an insinuation. God, he is such a disgusting pig. Apparently, Micah is not only going to antagonize Arthur about it, but he’s going to make an attempt at you as well.

"I mean, if you're gonna spread them pretty legs of yours for the likes of Morgan, can't imagine you got any high standards." Micah arrogantly drags his dirty fingers over his nicotine-stained mustache as if he is about to eat a delectable meal.

You slowly tilt your head at him, your gaze cold. "And that is what burns you up the most, isn't it, Micah?" Your eyes narrow at him, trying to figure out his angle as you play his little game.

Micah licks his lips and nibbles a bit, taking the bait in return. "What's that, Princess?"

"That I would concede to lay with a man like Arthur, yet I won't even give you the time of day.” You cross your arms over your chest as you hold his gaze in defiance. “That must really get to you, hmm?" you purr.

The smugness instantly drops from Micah’s face being replaced with a sneer. You step a few paces closer, right up into his face so that he can smell the lavender oil you wear. His eyes rake over your body, noting how your cleavage gathers under your crossed arms. He can feel your warm breath scattering across his face. Your boldness, your lack of fear of him, is as annoying to Micah as it is arousing. He sucks his teeth in an effort to regain his composure as he stands in front of you.

"Know this, Micah. Arthur Morgan is twice the man that you could ever even dream to be," you say with a chilling dead calm. "And in more ways than one, I might add.”

Micah’s mouth twitches at that last rub. "Well, (Y/N), I guess it's a good thing I ain't ever aspired to be more than I am, then." His tone challenges yours as he leans even closer to you, the tone in the air bordering on threatening.

"That is unfortunate," you say coolly as you confidently hold your ground. "For all of us. Good night, Mr. Bell." And you turn to head into your tent, leaving Micah standing there alone in the cold night air.

—----------------------------------

Arthur leans his shoulder against the large tree, staring out into the darkness of the woods. The moon is full tonight, looming high above the tree tops and cascading its bright silvery light upon the silent world below. He stands guard over the camp as a brooding sentinel as he slowly draws on yet another cigarette. Smoke huffs out of his lungs like that of a locomotive.

This is not the place he wants to be right now, as his thoughts drift and focus on you and your night together. Even now, as he recalls even the smallest detail of last night, it seems like a dream to him. He half expects to wake at any moment alone in his tent, surrounded by nothing but the lonesome night, as it all seems just too good to be true. He still has no explanation as to how you seem to pull him in, but you just do. Like that same silvery moon hanging above that pulls on the ocean tides, you draw Arthur to you; just as unyielding, unchanging, and just as magical.

Suddenly Arthur’s daydream is interrupted by the very person he’s thinking about. He catches a wisp of fabric in his peripheral vision. Turning his chin over his shoulder, Arthur sees you coming down the path. He watches as your breath swirls in the frosty air, preceding you as you approach. Like an ethereal being, the moon’s glimmer casts your hair in a soft backlight, causing your gown to be almost see-through in the luminescence as he can see the outline of your calves as you walk. Your delicate hand clasps your shawl around you in the chill air while you carry something else in your other hand. As you get closer, Arthur can see that you have come to bring him a steaming cup of coffee.

A huge smile instantly erupts across Arthur’s face as he pushes himself up off of the tree. "Hey there, Beautiful. What are you doin’ out here this late?"

The nickname causes your cheeks to burn red more than the chill night air that nips at your tender skin.

“Coming to see you.” You hand him the cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepts and immediately takes a sip. The hot liquid instantly chases the cold from his tired body and offers just the pick-up that he needed. “How’s it going out here?” you ask as you shiver a bit before pulling the knit shawl tighter around yourself.

“Oh, loads of excitement.” Arthur’s dead-pan drawl makes you laugh a bit.

You snuggle up to his bulky frame, putting your hands around his ribs and looking up into his face with your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. With his free hand, Arthur snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Despite the cold night air, he is so warm that you just want to curl up into him again like you did at the shelter. He leans in to kiss you, his plump lips finding yours once again. Starting off slowly, your tongue quickly begins to wrestle with his. He tastes like the cigarettes and whiskey he's been consuming while out here.

Dropping his chin, Arthur starts to kiss the tender skin underneath your ear before he proceeds to drag his fingertip along the area. “I love this spot,” he says, his voice a husky murmur in your ear..

“Do you, now?” you sigh with a silky tone of your own.

“MmmHmm. Because when I kiss it, you make that sound.” And he leans in again, placing another kiss in the same spot, only this time sucking a bit harder as his teeth catch your skin. And as if on command, a breathless whimper escapes your lips before you can control it and your eyes flutter closed again. It makes you melt at how playful he’s become just from simply providing him the opportunity and the feeling of being safe to do so.

After a few more moments of delicious kisses and nuzzling, you pull away just a bit, leaving your faces hovering close to one another's.

"I’d better get out of here," you whisper, "before I’m any more of a distraction."

"Too late for that now," Arthur hums, dipping his face down as he rubs his nose to yours, trying to entice you into another kiss.

"Tell you what.” You pull your face back a bit more to get his attention only to be met with a playful scowl of disappointment from him. “I’ll be waiting for you in your tent. When you’re done here, you know where I’ll be." You reach up to set a soft kiss upon Arthur’s stubbled cheek. And with a teasing grin, you turn and saunter back toward the camp, hips swaying exaggeratedly.

Arthur’s eyes follow you, the movement of your hips almost hypnotic, causing him to sigh deeply. And just like that, you are gone just as quickly as you had arrived; almost like a dream.

"Damn..." he says with a slight amazement.

—---------------------------------

It’s shortly before dawn when Bill comes down the path to relieve Arthur from his post. The large man ambles towards Arthur rubbing his bear-paw over his eyes and yawning profusely.

“I swear he’s walkin’ slower by the damn minute”, Arthur grumbles to himself with a huff when he lays his exhausted eyes on the man. He shoots Bill a look of annoyance as he briskly walks past the burly outlaw to head back to his tent. “I got things to do, Bill,” he snaps.

Bill simply chuckles with that deep voice of his as he adjusts his hat on his head against the brisk early-morning air. “Oh, I bet you do, my friend.”

Arthur can’t get back to his tent fast enough. He quickly strides across the camp, hurriedly passing by the other snoring and sleeping residents. It's still quiet out and the sun has yet to poke its radiant head above the horizon line. With any luck, Arthur will have a few hours alone with you before the flurry of daily activity kicks up again.

Excitement travels through Arthur’s exhausted body as he reaches his tent. The very sight of his humble little nest that waits for him in the shadows offers him a whole new level of tranquility. He is quick to notice that it is all silent and dark in the space. He half expected a candle to be burning or something.

Arthur hesitates outside the canvas before quietly pulling back the flaps and peers in before entering. And he is elated at the sight of you asleep on his cot, waiting for him just as you said you would be. In the back of his mind, Arthur harbored some doubt that you would be here, thinking maybe you’d change your mind for one reason or another. He cherishes the idea that someone, but especially you, would be waiting for the likes of him.

Arthur quietly creeps in and fixes the flaps back down to ward off the cold autumn breeze before it wakes you. He smiles to himself as he quietly shucks off his jacket and holster, his eyes continuing to rest on your sleeping form as he quietly moves about the tent.

He carefully sits on the edge of the cot, taking a moment to watch you sleeping peacefully. His eyes roam over your body from head to toe, taking in the sight of you and marveling at the treasure he has in front of him.

You're laying comfortably on your back, hair splayed round your face on the pillow. Your one arm rests up by your face, the other lays gracefully across your abdomen. Arthur’s head tilts to the side as he observes how your chest slowly rises and falls with calm breaths. Your eyelids occasionally flutter, making your lashes dance upon your angelic face. Oh, what it must be like to rest so peacefully, he wonders. Maybe now with you by his side, he’ll get to know what that’s like. Maybe.

Arthur places his hand beside your head as he leans over to gently kiss your delicate lips. The action causes you to startle awake, a sharp gasp crossing your lips as your hands shoot to his chest in surprise. But you are quickly relieved to see his handsome face hovering above yours.

"Sorry," Arthur murmurs with an apologetic grin. "Couldn’t resist."

You hum with a sleepy countenance as you slowly sit up, the heel of your hand rubbing your eye in an effort to wake yourself. You reach over to cup Arthur’s face and kiss him back as a welcome. When you pull away, you look him over, noting the sheer exhaustion that coats his whole body.

"You look so tired," you say with a sympathetic smile.

"I am tired." A deep sigh of acknowledgement escapes from Arthur’s chest as he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger with his one hand.

You nod in understanding. "Okay, then." You smile sweetly as you take a moment to curl your fingers through his hair, touching your forehead to his, before you swing your legs over the side of the cot and start to stand up.

Confused, Arthur sits up straighter with apprehension. "Where you goin’?"

You turn back around with a fluid and graceful movement as you catch his chin between your fingers in reassurance. "I’m just going back to my tent so you can get some sleep, is all."

"Well…", Arthur huffs in disappointment, his face dropping and his hands flopping into his lap.

"What’s wrong?" you ask, slightly amused at his pouty face.

"I mean…I know we’re not gonna…you know…” Arthur waves his hand at you suggestively. "But I was hoping you’d stay with me while I get some sleep."

"Oh." A big smile erupts on your face. "Okay, then," you gush, biting your lower lip a bit and trying to contain your excitement. You move to settle back down onto the cot, scooching over and fidgeting to make room as Arthur lays down alongside you.

“Boots, please” you say in a soft scold, tapping his shoulder.

"Huh? Oh!" And Arthur quickly sits back up to take off his boots. He’s so used to being on his own that he’s often just falling into bed, not even bothering to take off his jacket let alone his boots. Arthur is not used to having anyone in his space, let alone a woman in his bed. You look down with a soft smile as he pulls at his mud-dried boots with thick, clumsy fingers.

He lays back down and gets settled once more. You both wiggle awkwardly, giggling as you do, so that you can both fit onto his squeaky one-person cot. You face each other as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You lift your leg over his, so that you can snuggle in tight, laying almost nose to nose to make room for each other.

Finally finding a comfortable position, Arthur inhales deeply and lets out a long exhale. You smile as you watch the tension drain from his shoulders. (You swear he just lost about 2 inches in height in doing that.) You gently reach up and lay your hand along Arthur’s neck, fingers resting along his jawline, as your thumb sweeps across those scars on his chin. Your eyes scatter across the tired features of his strong and handsome face.

You have no idea how this is going to play out between you two, but right now, you don't care. He is a risk, as you told him before, and your future together is an uncertain mystery. And yet, this is the most certain thing that you have felt in what seems like forever. Here, at this moment, in this precious, precarious little bubble, you are with Arthur, and that is all that matters.

"Hmmmm…that’s better," says Arthur, finally relaxed and content.

“Happy, now?” you affectionately tease.

“Quite.”

"Goodnight, Arthur." Your honeyed voice sings to him in the darkness before you close your eyes again.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me

-Pete Townshend - The Who

*The line about the storm and the rainbow is based on a quote from the wonderful Dolly Parton, whom I idolize. And the “guardian angel” line is based on a meme that I saw.

***Ahhh! Finally! I've been working on this for over a year, but had to write the events that lead up to this first. But good news, this is not the ending! I have much more taking place after this. Some of it is fluffy, some will be smutty, some will be angsty! For those who are interested in reading a continuing storyline, I can tell you that my plan is to see this through to the end (which I have already written, btw). If anyone is interested in being on a taglist, let me know. (I am really bad at those, so I am trying to figure out how to keep track of that kind of thing.)

Comments and feedback are welcome! As I continue this story, I also want to develop my writing skills. So please let me know what you like and don't like.

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

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tetragonia · 1 month

Text

Masters of the Air characters as aesthetics

John 'Bucky' Egan

Bucky was a golden hour, warm hues of gold and amber casting a soft, ethereal glow over everything. Giggles and banters over a sip of liquor. He was a low hum in a pub, filled with chatter and joy. Bucky was a worn sheepskin jacket, familiar and comforting. Waves crash against rugged cliffs, vivid colors pop against a backdrop of blue skiess. He was gentle and dominating, yet he asked to be taken care of behind closed doors. Back arching high against the bed sheet, hands pinned and left marks everywhere. He was a smoky jazz club alive with the sound of saxophones and clinking glasses, the sound of people laughing so loud until the stomach hurts. Grass stained knees. Running through the rain without an umbrella. He was classical music blasting from a cheap speaker. He was Apollo playing his instruments.

Gale 'Buck' Cleven

Buck was a calm before a storm. A misty forest enveloped in fog, with towering trees draped in moss and winding paths leading to hidden glens and secret clearings. He was both silent movies and thunderstorms that you'd feel inside your chest. Raised eyebrows and cold hands, pinching the bridge of your nose. Watching a painting a bit too long before the gallery was closed. Long walks to the library. Winter winds and freezing hands, subtle glances across the room. He was soft murmur of reassurance and a gentle touch behind the doors. Consensual and always asked if it's okay. Dark red lipstick, chilled red wine. A quaint cottage nestled in the countryside with a thatched roof and ivy-covered walls, surrounded by a garden bursting with fragrant herbs and vibrant flowers. He was Hestia tending the sacred flames.

Harry 'Croz' Crosby

Harry was the swirling feelings in your stomach night before a trip. A vintage typewriter sitting on a weathered wooden desk, surrounded by stacks of yellowing paper and antique books. The soft autumn sun. He was handwritten letters and cracked statues. Silver waves lapping at the shore and seashells scattered across the sand like scattered jewels. The rattling of rain against the window, messy and needed direction. He was scribbles and ink stains, messy notebooks, and the tea kettle whistling in the silent morning. He was urgent and hurry, but comforting afterwards. He was everything about pleasure behind closed doors. A disheveled bedroom with rumpled sheets and discarded clothing strewn across the floor, with posters peeling off the walls and sunlight filtering through grimy windows. He was Poseidon guarding with his trident.

Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Rosie was a vintage record player spinning vinyl records, filling the room with the warm crackle of music. He was sweet smiles and clear eyes. Paper planes. Overgrown rose bushes. That one song you always skipped but ended up loving it. He was tweed jackets and loose blouses. A field of wildflowers stretching out as far as the eye can see, with colorful blooms dancing in the breeze and the scent of earth and pollen filling the air. Gentle and nurturing, caring and soft behind the doors. He was a giver and always maintained satisfaction. He was pink-tinted blush. A pair of combat boots scuffed from countless adventures. Smiling at strangers on the street. He was all kind and modesty, but also Athena leading battles.

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miyaur · 1 year

Note

Hey! Could I perhaps request Kazuha, Venti, Heizou and Scaramouche with a reader who looooves sitting on their lap? Could be fluffy, suggestive or smutty idc!!

⟢ 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ft. kazuha, venti, heizou, scaramouche

・ sypnosis. i cant think of a summary for this, but just headcannons of reader who loves sitting on their spouse's lap!

・notes. yay motive is back, i'm so happy i'm actually recieving requests now, pls keep sending!!!

・warnings. suggestive, generally fluffy, maybe slight spoilers for in-game story, some of these, or most of these, are relationship hcs, so beware!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐑: 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

・probably only after you guys have been dating, a few dates later, or enough dates that you'd be invited to his pristine palace of ivy, cough aka a small home in sumeru that his aunt buer gave him. and honestly after that one date he decided to have (because you asked), at home, after that he's decided on mostly just inviting you over and spending time together either (window) shopping or just at home, he probably took a cat that was just walking around home, they're best friend forever now, probably named him something overly cute, and maybe a bit childish, would probably be your name mixed up, or those really generic names for the cat breed. probably prefers white cats with them blue eyes, like a ragdoll! if he's had that cat since before you guys dated, he'd call both of you doll probably, if it's after, it'd either be your name or something generic (again) like cloud, misty, or lily, maybe even a flower's name.

・but back to where i was, the first time you got to sit in his lap was when you were watching something with him, i like to think there are at least cds and basic little tvs sumeranian people can watch on, but again back to what i was saying, you both were watching something, he was probably against the headrest sitting up, the cat he brought home was on top of his head, he's pretty petty and childish so probably would fight for popcorn if it ever came down to that, and it did, so what you decided on was to sit on his lap with the popcorn in your hands, so that no more arguing. and honestly it felt nice, being wrapped around in warm blankets, combined with a pretty boy cuddling you from behind, definitely felt nice. you just didn't notice the bulge in his pants growing.

・obviously he hasn't really been in a romantic relationship before, let alone a forever friend kind. so it's really new to him, and almost anything about you does something to him, a bit of revealed skin? hard, getting to see how you fight against enemies? hard, like anything you do he loves, just hates to admit it. even if you compliment him, he gets really flustered, really easily. sooner, or later his little tsundere act will end, he's really giddy on the inside, i promise you that.

・on those days where you do feel a little down, he just happened to offered you to sit on his lap... he likes those little moments between the both of you, where you both are in each other's space, skin to skin contact, just you and him, together, snuggled in together, you staying in his lap honestly made him miss it every time you weren't on his lap. he did find it annoying at first, obviously, but he warmed up to it soon enough. he always acted like he hated it when you did, but he liked it enough he let you stay. probably once you sleep he'll kiss you on the forehead, lets out all the thoughts he's had about you, everything he loves about you, everything that's been bothering him. sincerely, he doesn't care if you happen to just still being awake. likes to rest his head on yours if ur smaller than him, if ur taller, he likes it better to rest his head on your shoulders.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐈: 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

・would maybe allow it, just as long as you both are around no one else, or people you trust. but it isn't like he doesn't favor pda, really encourages it actually. but he prefers those little moments with you both, just alone together. one of the most precious, and pristine memories he has with you. he thinks of it as cuddling, in general doesn't really mind. loves every bit of affection you give.

・probably holds you by your waist then lifts you up onto his lap. probably tickles you and gives you a whole bunch of kisses, and maybe in front of the moon. and he'd go the moon is lovely isn't it. and he'd be giving the really lovey dovey looking stare down at you, and he'd add onto the lil' poetic line he just spat out with more smooth pickup lines, again. likes to give kisses on your neck, he's kinda cheesy, but it's also in a loving way, and only for you.

・doesn't really care if you do sit on his lap at random times, just know when is the appropriate time you know? overall loves it when you do, not the kind of guy to get hard when you sit on his lap though. (just dry hump him a bit and that'll do the trick.)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐃: 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

・he gets all giddy and shit. "you need me now?" he says then giggles at you, proudly presents to everyone that the oh so great and wonderful y/n is his. places his hand on your thigh and everything, lowkey a tease tryna make you horny sometimes. always allows it, but will tease the shit out of you. and sometimes when you rest he'll nibble on your neck just to wake you up and watch you fall asleep again. it's not consistent either so you never know when he'll kiss your neck or anything, it annoys you but it's definitely why you love him.

・probably likes to whisper stuff into your ear, like the spicy kind of stuff, just to get your reaction. thinks your flustered expression is the cutest. also tickles you while tryna ask you something probably.

・not the best at comforting you when you're a bit down, so he offers you to sit in his lap, while he tells you stories of the past, not even the oldest people of mondstadt remember, not clearly at least. if you allow him, will play with your hair while talking to you. these are the mostly serious moments you have with him, the romantic serious moments, where he stops joking around, and actually tries to help. he tries to make jokes to put a smile on your face though. he'll do anything to see your face light up again, and praise the archons, as he's the one who put the happy little expression on your face.

・he loves you, and your affection, he has his boundaries, but he loves you in general for this. at first he was a little cheeky about it at first, but it grew on him, always prepared for it now, because he doesn't wanna get tackled over his improper sitting position. very childish, but that's what he loves about you. and that's why you love him.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄: 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔 ・awfully surprised at first, for someone who expects the unexpected, this is not what he meant by he wants to get surprised, probably gets a bit flustered, you wanna sit on his lap? gee alright, you sure though? may be a bit playful sometimes, but doesn't hesitate to make sure you're really okay with it. the first time you did it, he was definitely really worried, were you comfortable? did you sense his nervousness? archons, you look like heaven when your pretty face is as close to his. what did he do to deserve such a beauty of a partner, mostly those were his thoughts, definitely was really really scared if you were not comfortable with it, even if you assured him he was still scared. ・super flustered at first, even the second, third, fourth, and so on. always catches him off guard, and that never happens, promise. even if he's used to you just jumping onto his lap, hanging your arms around him to tell him about your day, he will always be so red while tryna listen. always so shocked like, huh?? that happened?? ・you tended to be super affectionate, he wasn't used to it, so whenever your hands were around his neck, or your lips on his, or when you slept on his chest, it wasn't his first relationship, but the first time the other person was affectionate, so much so, that you decided to sit on his lap, and wanted to do that whenever you wanted to tell him about stuff! you think it's hilarious that he gets all shades of red when you do kiss him, but don't tell him that he'll become a tomato, again. ・overall 100% enthusiastic about it, keep doing it because he loves it, and breathes for your affectionate. questionably supportive about the idea, still kinda teases you about it like when you a bit upset that's overly stupid and/or childish about something he'll go "aww poor baby, wanna sit on my lap and talk about it?", if you say yes he'll be flustered, ez gg

lowkey tho i giggled while writing this, swinging my feet in the air n shi

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rachalixie · 1 year

Text

what i’m looking for

you, quite literally, run into kim seungmin on your escape from an arranged marriage.

tags: strangers to lovers, hidden identity, she/her!reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.4k

you never thought you would be in a situation like this, running through the woods in poorly fitting clothes and shoes, branches snagging at your hair and arms as you wind your way through the forest searching for something, anything. and yet, here you are. cursed engagement ring hidden away in your satchel along with a pocket of gold coins and whatever stale pieces of food your handmaid was able to steal for you before you took your leave.

you’re surprised it took you until a week before your wedding to run away, but you were never one to back down from a challenge; you tried everything you could think of to call it off, but your parents wouldn’t budge. something about it being the best decision for the kingdom, or whatever - nevermind what you want. nevermind that your brother would become king and therefore you were simply a bargaining chip to be used for political power. nevermind the reputation of your betrothed, the reputation of his kingdom and how they treat women like you. nevermind that they’re sending you into a life of despair and discomfort.

the cool dusk breeze beating against your face feels almost euphoric as you sprint, cautiously looking behind you to make sure you’re not being followed. surely someone had noticed your departure? but you made sure to cover your tracks well; the boots you’re wearing are several sizes too big, stuffed with cloth to ease the fit, and any tracker would dismiss them on their hunt for you.

you’re abruptly sent down to the forest floor when a boy appears almost out of nowhere, tripping you and making you lose your footing. he tumbles down with you, taking the brunt of your fall, and annoyance pings within you when he groans at the impact. you’re scrambling off his lap as fast as you can, hands scrabbling at dried leaves on the ground that stick to your palms.

“where did you come from?” you demand, watching him stand up with an indignant look on his face. his pouty lips are twisted into a frown and his hair is fluffed up from his fall. in any other situation you might think he was cute. “do you not watch where you’re going?”

“oh sorry, i’m not really used to people running through my property,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and a reprimand that you have to tamp down sits at the tip of your tongue. for all he knows, you’re a commoner; announcing that he should be aware of your royal status and that technically, you own this property probably isn’t the best move. he would turn you in faster than you can speak your own name, collecting whatever reward your father most likely posted in return for your safe delivery back to the palace.

“your property?” you land on, feeling it a safe question. you look past his head and notice a tiny cottage a few yards away, ivy lining the bricks and a soft puff of smoke escaping from the chimney.

“yes,” he drawls out, as if talking to a child. “the place where i reside. you know, sleep and eat. surely you know what that is?”

“of course i do,” you huff, crossing your arms. did you look homeless to him, or something? a terrible idea sparks in the back of your mind as he looks away from you and you notice the rapidly setting sun. it hits you that you had no plan, nowhere to go, nothing to eat and no shelter for the night.

“anyways. enjoy the rest of your. jog?” he says, voice lilting up at the end like he’s not sure whether or not to be suspicious of you. he turns to walk away and a flash of panic takes over your body.

“wait!” you lunge to grip at his sleeve, a display of impropriety that you usually wouldn’t let yourself indulge in with anyone other than your closest advisors. the material feels rough under your skin, as do the borrowed clothes hanging off of your shoulders. “do you have an extra room? or a mat on the floor? i can pay you, i just need somewhere to stay.”

“what, are you on the run or something?” a spark lights in his eyes, and your hair stands on end when you realize that he’s amused. as if he knows anything about you.

“or something,” you grit out, knowing that whatever sarcastic comment that you want to make probably won’t end up with him agreeing to let you in. despite his inarguably annoying personality, he has a house, and you need him right now. you can’t imagine that you’ll run into anyone else tonight, and sleeping on the forest floor does not seem safe.

“how much?” he says, quirking an eyebrow up. you mentally cringe at the amount of money you have hidden away in your bag,

“enough,” you squint your eyes at him, gauging him. he meets your gaze for an impressive amount of time before nodding his head towards the small building and starting his trek.

“what’s your name?” you ask, following behind him, knowing but not caring that not offering yours first was rude. he looks back at you for a beat of time before shrugging.

“kim seungmin. and you?”

you give him your name, grateful to your parents for the first time in a while. they kept your true name hidden from anyone outside of the palace, and their secrecy was annoying until this very moment. it would be nice to be called something other than princess for a while, you’re sure.

he mouths your name, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment before grinning.

“well then, welcome to my home. i’ll make up a cot for you in the living room, are you hungry?” he rambles as he lets you in, closing and locking the door behind you. the skeptic sarcastic you met outside seems to melt away to reveal slumped shoulders and tired eyes, unmasked by the comfort of his space. it warms you up along with the shelter of a roof, a reprieve from the biting cold of the outside.

he doesn’t wait for your answer before walking off, leaving you to stand between the small kitchen and cozy looking living room. there’s small trinkets strewn around, soft mismatched couches with worn blankets and a rickety looking kitchen table surrounded by stools. he returns with a thin padded mattress and a pillow and he sets it down by the burning fireplace. it’s not the luxurious four post bed that you’re used to, but it’ll do.

“let me treat that for you,” he gestures at your knees, where small dots of blood seep through a tear in your trousers. there’s a small scrape you didn’t notice until now, the sting making itself known when you bend your leg just a bit to get a better look.

“it’s just a scratch,” you protest, not wanting to bite off more than you can chew with him. you already owe him for letting you in, you don’t want to think about how fast your reserves will dwindle down if he does you any more favors.

“please, i insist,” he guides you to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen table before reaching into the cabinet next to him. “i’m an apothecary, and i know my way around basic medicine. it’s not a big deal.”

you nod stiffly and let him inspect the small wound, the breath leaving you when he drops to his knees in front of you to get a better look. he rolls up your pant leg and he cleans it with rapt attention, making sure not to press too hard, and applies a greenish looking salve onto it.

“there, all done,” he says, patting the bandage he had wrapped around it before letting the cloth of your trousers back down.

“thank you,” you say, genuine in the way his returning smile is. you reach into your bag, fishing for the small bag of coins. “how much? i can pay you in advance for letting me stay, and for this.”

“keep it,” he says, voice even softer than it was before. “you can help me around the house. the weeding, or gathering wood for the fire. i don’t want your money, not when you probably need it more than i do. i make enough to get by.”

so you do. the first morning you stumble through the garden, side by side with him as he shows you which plants in his garden were herbs he could use for his medicines and which were leeching weeds that needed to be plucked before they took over the entire space. he disappears to town in the afternoon, delivering medicines and coming back with a pocket jingling with coins and a bag full of fresh pastries for the both of you. they taste better than anything you’ve eaten from the palace cooks, and you can’t help the way you moan around the cherry hand pie. you catch his eye and he meets it before you both dissolve into giggles, leaning into each other’s space on the same side of the table.

he helps you wash your clothes that night, tutting at how you only have one pair. he lends you a pair of his, an old set that he doesn’t wear anymore. you lay at night and swipe the fabric between your fingers, smiling at the gesture even though he isn’t there to receive it.

his kindness shocks you, you’re not used to people doing things for you without the authority of the crown making them or them demanding something in return. it’s nice, knowing that there’s people in your kingdom that contain such compassion, especially for strangers.

the next day he takes you deeper into the forest to pick berries, and the red and purple bursted splotches staining your fingertips for hours after. he feeds you some with his bare hand, swiping his thumb against the corner of your mouth when sweet juice escapes it. you bristle at the action and he laughs, and you have to hide your smile in your sleeve as you wipe the rest off yourself. you stay out until the sun begins to set, him busy teaching you about every type of plant the two of you come across on your stroll and you listening with rapt attention. his voice is soothing, words speeding up and slurring together a bit when he finds something particularly interesting that he wants to show you. he makes you feel almost like when you were a child studying with your tutors, quizzing you every now and then to test your retention, but the smile he rewards you with is better than anything they ever gave you.

on the third day, he’s gone before you wake. he left a note on the table for you stating that he had to go to town for a medical emergency, and that there was bread and cheese in one of the cupboards for you to eat while he was away. you busy yourself with two knitting needles and a ball of thread you find in the living room, trying and failing to create a pattern of knots. he comes home as the sun is setting, the last rays making his hair a honeyed brown and his skin glow. your stomach clenches at the sight of him, the relief you’re feeling foreign to your body.

he grins at the sight of you surrounded by unraveled strings and gently pries your hands from the needles where they had become clenched. he wordlessly shows you how to create simple weaves with the needles, and you have to ask him to show you twice because you’re too busy staring at his tongue poking from his lips to focus the first time around. you end up with a wobbly looking hat, some knots too bit and some too tight that create gaping holes in weird places, but he places it on his head and thanks you for it anyways.

“you have a lot of secrets,” he muses the next night, sipping tea with you by the fireplace. you almost lose your grip on the mug from his abruptness.

“i do?” you ask, not willing to give away information that he doesn’t already have. you had spent the day in companionship, trading back quips and sarcastic comments between meals. he taught you about the medicines he was making that day, explaining each ingredient and its properties as he cut them up and beat them into a paste. his comment was out of place, but it’s something you’ve come to expect from him; there’s no predictability to him past the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles and the way his face goes soft when he looks at you.

“you pretend you’re a commoner, but your hands are free of callouses. your hair is full and healthy, you speak formally, you’re clearly well off. or at least, you were. what i don’t understand is why you decided to leave that behind.” his bottom lip is twisting between his teeth, not knowing whether he’s crossed a line with you.

“true,” you admit, wrapping your hands further around your tea and letting the warmth seep into your hands. it grounds you. “i didn’t think i had a choice. i wanted to make my own decisions, wanted to decide my own fate, not have someone do it for me. i felt suffocated, so i just. left. i don’t know what i was looking for, but i needed to get out.”

“have you found it?” he says, peering at you from above his mug as he takes a long sip. “what you’re looking for?”

“maybe,” you pause, looking into his eyes. they’re cocoa-dusted brown, the fire dancing across his pupils. he looks away after a moment, and you’re grateful for it. you wouldn’t want him to see the flush thats traveled up to your cheeks and ears.

by the fifth day, you’re able to identify the uncomfortable feeling in your gut whenever he walks into a room. or looks at you. or breathes, really.

you’re falling for him.

you’re not in love with him, you’re not so deluded by his puppy-like charm and stupid smile and cute teeth and sparkly eyes that you’re calling it love. you can simply identify the feeling of free falling as clearly as it was laid out in the novels you used to sneak into your room to read by the candlelight before bed.

it isn’t as difficult to look him in the eyes after you’ve identified it as you thought it would be. if anything, you’re even more drawn to his magnetism, your body moving towards his without your permission at any given time. while he’s preparing lunch, or chopping herbs, or telling you about his trip to town, you’re in his space. and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, he seems to gravitate towards you with the same intensity, or you hope so at least; it isn’t unrealistic that it’s your rose-colored vision making you see things that aren’t there.

regardless, it brings something more dangerous to your attention: hope. the hope that maybe, this could be a life for you. that this temporary stop in your journey might become permanent. that you’re far enough from your home that no one will recognize you if you step into town, that you could spend the rest of your days with him in this cottage, eating pastries and knitting and picking berries.

there was no need to tell him that now. you were fine with the way things were, you were still technically engaged, and you didn’t even know if you were ready for something like that. for the infinite time since you can remember, you’re cursing your sheltered upbringing for not teaching you how to live.

it’s on the sixth day that things go crumbling down.

he’s gone again, leaving you in comfortable silence broken up by birds chirping outside and the sound of leaves rustling past the windows. it’s domestic, the way he works during the morning and comes home a few hours later to you twiddling the knitting needles between your hands, a ball of yarn by your feet and a haphazard scarf forming under them.

“your highness?” he says, and you hear a rustle of paper, him putting his mail down most likely.

“hmm?” you sound absentmindedly, still focused on the knitting you’re trying to painstakingly learn. it hits you a moment later what he said, and you drop the scarf and needles with a gasp. you look up to see your worst nightmare in the form of him holding up a missing persons poster, a drawn image of your face adorning the middle and your name plastered underneath. missing princess, it reads, complete with a reward for your safe return. you knew this would happen, you just didn’t think it would happen so soon. a day before your wedding. you thought you had more time. you were so close to your freedom, and you could feel it slipping through your fingers.

“shit,” you curse, hiding your face in your hands so you don’t have to take in the shocked look on his face. you feel all the blood in your head rushing south, leaving you lightheaded and overwhelmed.

“you’re the princess?” he clearly has no care for your distress in this moment as he stalks towards you, the poster crumpling in his hand when it curls into a fist. “i’ve been harboring the missing princess in my home?”

“yes?” you mumble into your fingers, letting the despair settle in your traitorous stomach. he lets out a sharp breath through his teeth and you flinch, thoughts swirling.

“do you know what would happen to me if anyone finds out i’ve been keeping you here? prison would be a paradise.” you hear his feet bringing him closer to you, each drop synchronizing with your heart beating in your throat.

“please,” you remove your hands, sniffling when a traitorous tear traces down your face. “don’t send me back. i’ll give you all the money i have, just don’t send me back there.”

“hey,” he soothes, anger melting into concern as he folds to his knees in front of you. “i won’t. i wouldn’t. i just- why didn’t you tell me?”

“i didn’t know if i could trust you, at first,” you stutter out, ignoring the way your heart clenches when his face falls. “and after…there wasn’t a good time.”

“why would you give all that up? a life of luxury, never needing to ask for anything, why would you leave that to spend your days here? don’t you want to marry some prince and live in your castle?”

“i don’t want some prince. i want you,” your voice is wobbly, vision clouded by the tears you won’t let fall, but your intention is clear.

“you can’t just-” he cuts himself off, taking in a sharp breath through his nose. “you can’t want me. i’m nobody.”

“you’re not,” you press, standing until you’re level with him. “don’t you understand? it’s you. you were what i was looking for all this time.”

“but,” he protests, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up from its careful placement. “why me?”

“you’re my home, seungmin. i’ve never felt more safe or more comfortable than i have within these walls.” desperate tears continue to sting at your eyes, and he reaches to wipe them away before he can help himself. your palms move to cup his hands to your face, keeping his warmth there. “you’re the only one who sees me as more than just something they can use, you see me. please don’t send me away.”

“would you be happy here?” he asks, voice trembling. he wants you to stay.

“i’ve been happier these past six days than i’ve been my entire life.”

he surges to kiss you, finally letting your lips touch after days of lingering glances, and it feels like coming home.

you didn’t know if you would go back to the palace, but you knew you had responsibilities that you couldn’t just ignore and that you had to deal with them soon. what you were completely sure of was that, despite the wishes of your family, you won’t marry at all if you aren’t marrying him.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff #seungmin x y/n #stray kids x y/n #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fic #seungmin x reader

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mothhball · 12 days

Text

Prologue

JONATHAN CRANE X FEM!READER

summary Your mentor is unhappy with your career choices. But her worries only serve to make you more curious.

warnings none! this is just a little prologue

notes a little intro to kick things off. I'll shortly post the first chapter as well haha Also, Potomac is just a name I borrowed from the DC universe. I know it's different in the comics, so don't shoot me please <3

! MINORS DNI !

story masterlist • main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 1.1k

“Look… I just don’t get why you wouldn’t want to go back to Potomac. From what I’ve read in your sophomore internship review, Dr. Rabin was genuinely impressed with you and said he’d be excited to have you back for the Senior internship. What happened? I – I would’ve understood anything, really. But Arkham? You really applied there?”

Professor Campbell’s office is a time capsule. A familiar, cozy environment that you’ve been inhabiting for a whole hour per week since the start of the last semester. Decorated with undemanding potted plants and cheesy motivational posters on the walls around you. The smell of paper and hibiscus hangs in the dry air, warmed up to an almost uncomfortable temperature by the ever-running radiator mounted to the wall. Usually, your presence in this room is accompanied by a sense of inner peace. One hour per week during which you’re allowed to fantasize about a glowing future as you sit in front of your academic mentor. But today, the tiny woman with the prominent smile lines is looking at you with thinly-veiled indignation. It’s an ugly expression on her, you decide. People like Campbell are better off smiling and laughing, like the human embodiment of a Golden Retriever.

You shift in your seat, resisting the urge to gesture with your hands to avoid seeming defensive. No, you keep your posture open and inviting on purpose. The body language of a genuine person.

“Potomac Psychiatric Hospital is just not what I want,” you start, speaking gently in an effort to make her emphasize with you. “I need a challenge. I don’t want to hang around rich people with mild cases of burnout all the time.”

Professor Campbell’s face scrunches up with mild displeasure, and you feel the need to quickly correct yourself.

“No offense, of course. But my main interest does lie in… the tough cases. And there are tough cases at Potomac. Jeremiah Arkham himself called his asylum the ‘Ivy League of insanity’. And Dr. Crane used to be a professor here. You knew him, right?”

Campbell flinches, and you could swear you were able to see an expression of genuine fear in her eyes for a fraction of a second. And for that fraction of a second, you were speaking to a prey animal instead of your favorite psychology professor.

“Well… Professor Crane – Doctor Crane was a… well-known member of the faculty. By which I mean everyone knew of him and the kind of seminars he held. Nobody really knew anything about the man aside from his special interest in fear-based disorders and most likely crippling caffeine addiction. Back when I knew him, he was… eccentric to say the least. But he knew what he was teaching about. Students fled his lecture hall as soon as he was done speaking, but he really was a brilliant mind. He was a professor for a reason, after all.”

You nod along to her words, unable to stop that little spark of personal curiosity from growing and festering within you. If everything goes well, you’d be able to witness firsthand how peculiar this man is for the entire summer. Much to her dismay, Campbell’s tales only serve to encourage your decision.

“So, if the two of you knew each other, there’s already a networking opportunity here,” you conclude, folding your hands in your lap.

“Yes but –“

“Also, Arkham is right here in Gotham. I don’t have to rent a new apartment anywhere else, I already know the city, and so on and so forth.” You feel a little bad for cutting her off, but it’s almost ridiculous how much she’s trying to dissuade you from your plans. Campbell doesn’t bother to hide her displeasure anymore, letting out a sigh as she taps a manicured nail against the porcelain of her teacup.

“Listen,” she starts, choosing her words carefully, “we’ve had many students apply to Arkham Asylum for an internship over the years. And those whose spirits didn’t get crushed during the interview were worn down by the work itself. Besides, the influx of applications is monumental. There’s no guarantee that you’ll even get invited to the interview. In my humble opinion, you should write Potomac an email and – “

“I already got invited.” Campbell’s eyes widen, and the silence prompts you to continue. It’s a little difficult to not seem smug as you speak, but you manage. “The interview is this Friday.”

“Friday…” Campbell reaches out for her cup of tea, trying to wash away the bitter taste on her tongue with a mouthful of hibiscus and apple. In that moment, you feel a little bad for the professor. She’s always tried to make time for you and dutifully offered help wherever she could. And in return, you’re acting childish, trying to incite a one-sided contest over an internship. You let out a sigh along with her, shifting in your seat; softening up.

“This is… something that’s really important to me,” you offer, trying to apologize without saying it. “Potomac was a huge help for getting into the swing of things. I… learned a lot about the basics. And for anyone else, that hospital is the perfect match. But I don’t want to graduate, secretly doubting whether I’ll ever be ready for the real work. I know Arkham is a baptism by fire. But it’s what I need.”

Campbell hums in response, stirring a third sugar cube into her tea. It’s just a habit to keep her hands busy at this point. You’re pretty sure the crystals don’t even dissolve anymore.

“Besides,” you continue, smiling at her because you know this will give her at least a shred of hope, “even though I got through to the interview, I might not even get an internship spot. So… this entire conversation might be redundant anyway.”

This gets you the response you were hoping for, and the professor nods thoughtfully as the smile you’re used to returns to her face. She sounds relieved when she answers you.

“If that should happen, I’m sure you could still send an application to Dr. Rabin and he’ll have you on his team in no time at all. Oh, why am I even worrying? You’ll figure it out.”

You nod, feeling in real time how your smile relaxes into something more genuine. Suddenly, the warmth in the room doesn’t feel oppressive anymore. As the mood switches to something more cheerful, the two of you talk some more about your final thesis before you decide to end the conversation on a good note. Campbell rises from her seat along with you, and you mirror her smile, relieved to finally be done with this interrogation. Your mentor heads to the door after you, gently patting your shoulder.

“Let me walk with you. At least until the staff lounge. I need a fresh cup of tea.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

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#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #the scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy #.moth writes

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folkookie97 · 9 months

Text

❝ twisted in bedsheets ❞ — jjk

— PAIRING: ex boyfriend!jungkook x female!reader

— SUMMARY: ❝ An affair with your ex who's your children's dad isn't a good idea. Especially when he's about to get married. ❞

— TYPE: angst | non-idol!au

— WORD COUNT: 2,617

— WARNINGS: Past/Secret relationship, Cheating, Coparenting, Husband!Taehyung, Jungkook has a fiancée, Mention of (2) Unplanned Pregnancy, Slight Toxic!relationship, Curses, Sad/Open(?) ending, Inspired by August & Illicit Affairs (Taylor Swift), Mention of brother!Namjoon, Mention of Marriage Convenience, Argument

— NOTES: i hope u like it <3 happy birthday to our bunny

— RELEASE DATE: September 01, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3

Forgiveness is inevitable for our individual evolution. It's necessary in any religion or even in psychology, which emphasizes the importance of that attitude and feeling so that we can have a better life.

Could that be the reason why things were so complicated?

Your brother used to say that you had extreme difficulty in overcoming certain situations, especially when people harmed you. It was as if you didn't care about their remorse. Even when years passed it was like you focused on the pain felt by your past self and refused to forget what they'd done.

Whenever Namjoon said that you would roll your eyes and vehemently deny it. Not only due to the discomfort of acknowledging a possible red flag but also because you didn't see yourself that way.

At least until that day.

"I'm seeing you received his wedding invitation." You felt a kiss on your face as Taehyung entered the living room accompanied by your two children, who didn't waste any time jumping onto your lap and showering you with hugs.

With your head still slightly sore, you returned the affection and watched the two kids running towards their bedrooms.

"How did you know he was engaged?"

The sigh that escaped Taehyung's lips increased your irritation. You made an effort to not rush him as you continued analyzing the expressions on his face. You noticed everything from the subtle bite he gave to his upper lip to the furrowing of his brows.

"He mentioned it to me."

You definitely didn't expect that. Anything was possible except for that.

What the hell was going on?

"Wow, amazing! You and Jungkook become fucking friends again?" You screamed and laughed sarcastically at the same time. "How'd it happen?"

Taehyung trembled at your voice's volume. He never saw you so stressed before. Yelling at him wasn't your style. Like never.

"My darling..." He attempted, sitting beside you and trying to get closer. Despite knowing the reason for your anger, Taehyung wasn't ready for the blow to his heart as he saw you move your body further into the sofa's corner. Away from him. "(Y/N), stop it…"

"Tell me that shit right now or I swear I'll sleep somewhere else tonight."

You didn't want your words to sound so offensive. You were even trying hard.

However, Taehyung knew you well. He knew you all too well. You couldn't fault him for being such an amazing husband.

You changed the question when the silence hung too long, "Why'd you keep this from me?"

“I was afraid you'd wanna be in his bride's shoes."

At that moment you knew Taehyung was correct even with such selfishness.

You really wanted to be in Jihyo's shoes.

You wanted to be Jeon Jungkook's future wife.

After so many years. You still wanted him back.

Resentment. Anger. Jealousy. Envy. Sadness.

Those were the feelings that took over your heart when Jungkook's messages showed up on your phone screen.

"Can you meet me at the snack bar near your house in half an hour? It's about my wedding. Take the twins if you can."

You rolled your eyes with an urge to send him to hell fucking strong.

So it was hard to believe that you were really fighting the intrusive thoughts and getting the twins ready for the meet.

Ivy wore a pink dress detailed with sunflowers and yellow shoes. The little hair bow was the same color as the flowers and contrasted with the dark tone of her hair strands.

Dressing Oliver was always a hard situation so you chose didn't stress yourself more than usual. You gave way to the little boy's desire to wear a simple Spider-Man costume and Iron Man flip flops.

You looked around for Jungkook when you arrived at the snack bar but couldn't find him anywhere. Rolling your eyes and biting your lip to push away the anger starting creeping into your veins, you decided to sit with the kids at a table farther away and near the large window.

The bell on the entrance door rang once again after you ordered a portion of French fries and hurried footsteps ran towards the three of you.

"Did you already order without me?"

Tears were already welling up in the corners of your eyes before you could muster efforts to contain the pain in your heart. The warmth of the liquid reminds you how pathetic you'd seem if you cried in front of him.

You couldn't show weakness.

"Hey, Jungkook. I see you're late... As usual." You commented and saw your children leave their seats to hug his waist and hug him. That damn tiny waist.

"Don't be so mean, my angel. You know I'd never be late on purpose."

His sarcastic smile caused a frown on your face. He was such an arrogant bitch.

Jungkook whispered something to Ivy and Oliver, who nodded with their little heads and hurried to the snack bar background where you knew there were some small tables with blank sheets of paper and colored pencils to draw with.

The owners of that place understood how great it was having a space to entertain customers' children. No one liked seeing kids witnessing adult arguments.

"Why'd you ask me to bring them if you just sent them to drawing?"

"I just miss my children, (Y/N). They're mine too, you forget?"

He didn't say it with a rude tone but a guilt feeling hit you instantly. Even though you knew he wasn't blaming you for those trip days, you were aware that Jungkook would miss the twins a lot and yet you refused to let them being at his house.

"How were the days in London? Business trips are usually quite tiring and I-" You cut off him when he sat across from you. Was he beating around the bush?

"What the hell, Jungkook? You call me here to talk about my work at my dad's company or talk about your fucking wedding?"

It was his turn to rolling eyes and wrinkling his nose while he noticed your impatience. You looked like a cartoon character with your flushed face, furrowed forehead and lips being bitten to avoid more shouting.

If he tried a bit harder certainly he'd glimpse flames coming out of your body. Really like a common facial expression in comics cartoons.

"Wow! Looks like you aren't happy for me."

"And how could I be?" You chuckled with a heavy dose of sarcasm. He couldn't be serious. He'd be cruel as hell. "Why are you marrying Jihyo?"

"Cuz I'm in love with her." Jungkook shrugged as if that were the most obvious answer in the whole world.

For the hundredth time since the wedding invitation papers landed in your hands, you rolled your eyes and felt the urge to grab him by the neck until he dropped dead.

"You didn't look so badly in love with her like that when you were eating me out before my trip just like a dumb needy virgin." You took the initiative to curl your lips into a mocking smile and Jungkook widened his eyes on your sharp words.

"Don't say that." He warned you with a sound coming out much rougher than you anticipated.

Instead of containing the venom dripping through your teeth, you continued the session of criticizing the character of the man in front of you.

"Actually, you didn't look to love her in any of so many nights we've fucking these last three years. But I think you loved moaning my name when I was creaming around your cock and also when you cumshot in my face. And maybe when-"

Your mind stopped processing any more humiliations when Jungkook punched the table and all the decorations placed there rattled, just like the instantaneous movement of your body.

It'd been a single punch. Very quick. But you couldn't help but feel scared in Jungkook's presence for the first time in all those years of going back and forth.

The silence between you two lasted for just three minutes although a discomfort in your chest felt like it hung there for almost an eternity. Slowly you looked at him; his trembling lips and eyebrows frowned. Almost like he was about to cry.

Anything about that sounded impossible to you. Jeon Jungkook never cried easily. Why was he so broken?

"Jihyo's pregnant…" The news came along with a few tears in the corners of his shining eyes.

You definitely weren't expecting this. He knew you weren't because whilst you were trying to come up with something to say Jungkook was faster and cut off anything you could think of.

"Taehyung found her a few days ago at the mall while he was there with Ivy and Oliver. She was buying baby clothes and he saw her briefly."

"It was the day he told me that you asked him to see the kids at your house before the agreed-upon time." You said more like thinking out loud. Jungkook nodded in agreement.

"He got really confused so he came to my house and wanted to confront me. I left the kids playing in their room and sat with him in the kitchen." Jungkook fiddled with his own hands studying the collection of tattoos on his skin with as much interest as he had when he got it. "I told him that I knew about it a few days before. Tell him about the wedding wasn't in my plans but he noticed my engagement ring."

There was so much to ask and so little courage to do it. Your mind was boiling with desperation and your heart felt shattered into pieces.

Goddamn fucking fate!

"How many weeks of pregnancy is she?" You allowed yourself to ask, not interested in more minutes of painful silence..

"Sixteen," Jungkook replied. Sixteen weeks! Four damn months! "It's a little girl. She'll be named Liz."

You clenched your teeth remembering the reason behind the choice of her name.

"Before our breakup you used to say your dream was having a daughter named Liz." You reminded him and he swallowed hard realizing that memory remained fresh in your mind even the years that passed.

"Yeah… But when you were pregnant it was you who chose the name Ivy, so I thought-" Jungkook stopped talking and widened his eyes noticing what he'd just said. "But I love our daughter's name! It's so beautiful!"

You almost wanna laugh remembering how upset he was when saw your pregnancy belly and found out that you hid the pregnancy from him. Annoyance for your secret turned to happiness after a few minutes of civil conversation. And it turned into shock when you told him it wasn't a common pregnancy but a twins pregnancy. He went back to being happy when you told him about the babies' genders and he went back to being upset when heard you say that you'd already decided the babies' names on your own.

And the little girl wasn't named Liz as he always dreamed.

“Well, you know… maybe if I'd chosen the name Liz instead of Ivy you might have changed your mind about us and our relationship."

It wasn't true. You loved your daughter's name and could never imagine it any other way. You were just hating the perks in Jihyo's life and the fake "perfect love" she swore existed between both of them.

"My angel… you know you were already engaged to Taehyung. He's… He was my best friend. I couldn't act that way. I couldn't go against your families' desire to see you two get married."

"It was just for the company's sake, Jungkook! Just for the reputation of Taehyung's family and mine!" You fumed and clenching fists before running the fingers through your head, where you tugged a few hair strands overly desperate.

"I don't give a fuck about that bullshit! It's because Taehyung loves you! HE ALWAYS LOVED YOU!"

If you and Jungkook weren't such frequent customers in that establishment, surely the owners of the place would tell you two to leave the instant Jungkook punched the table for the second time.

Though Ivy and Oliver remained quiet drawing in the other room, you knew your children well enough to know they were covering their ears when they both saw their dad so furious with you.

For that one reason you stared at Jungkook. Eye to eye. Tears to tears.

The resentment was high. However, it wasn't strong enough for your pride worthed more than your children's mental health. Jungkook looked like he shared the same thought and tried to normalize his breathing and clear his mind. He adjusted himself in the chair until his posture was more relaxed.

"Love you, my angel. I swear I love you with all my soul and I think that my love for you can never go away." Jungkook looked like he was about to break. "But it's not fair."

His voice came in trembling whispers and his eyes were teary as you've never seen it. "It's not fair to Taehyung, it's not fair to Jihyo, or our twins, or Liz. Much less to us. Me and you. We don't deserve to live like this."

Deep down, you knew it was true. And that hurt more than if you were lied to.

"So are we done again?"

You never really started over. Everything should've ended after the casual fuck when you found out your father wanted you and his business partner's son to get married.

Jungkook swore to himself that he was happy as a single man and you swore to yourself that Taehyung would be an excellent husband and dad, even if you didn't love him.

But then when Jungkook got back from his exchange in Canada everything snowballed. He found out about your pregnancy and the fact the child was the result of the drunken reunion you two had a few months after the breakup.

As if everything couldn't be more desperate, you were actually gonna marry his best friend the next quarter.

Taking on responsible fatherhood and coparenting was all he promised to you. The whole coexistence between you two should be only for the twins.

Of course it didn't go as planned. He was angry seeing you in a fake marriage with Taehyung, who still laid with you every night despite loving you with all his heart and not being reciprocated.

His self-control lasted just for three years until the desire to feel you again took over, and after Ivy and Oliver's third birthday party you two fucked for the first time since the night that reconnected your lives.

Jungkook knew you confessed the first cheating to your husband and he also knew that he could ask for a divorce. However, Taehyung loved you enough to remain a second option and only get out of your life if your true love asked you to come back.

But Jungkook never did it. Because of the fear of spoiling your life. Because of the fear of hurting Taehyung's heart. Because of the fear of being a bad example for your children.

The affair between you has never ceased during the last three years. Not even when he forced himself into a relationship with Jihyo to try getting over you.

He wasn't proud of it. Deep down, you weren't either.

And Jungkook couldn't allow himself to fail one more time.

"You were never mine to lose.“ It's the confirmation you needed. It was over. You and Jungkook were done.

On that August 31st you knew Jungkook was no longer the target of your anger. It was yourself.

And you would never forgive yourself for getting twisted in bedsheets of someone that were never yours.

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year

Note

first babies just being bad and terrorizing strangers😭😭😭

It was around 5 PM when all of you slid into the booth at the restaurant completely exhausted from the day's activities. Axel and Ivy were sitting next to you while Autumn was sitting next to Jack who looked like he was about to fall over at any minute.

"Babe?" You called for him and he immediately picked his head up to look at you.

"Hmm?"

"You okay over there?" You asked him as Autumn proceeded to climb into his lap and begin to poke his face.

"I'm fine… I think. Yes, Autumn?"

"Do you love me?" She asked and Jack immediately groaned, getting flashbacks from when you had asked him the same thing. All you did was stifle a laugh.

"Yes, of course I do."

"Hmm, daddy you sure?" She asked again and proceeded to poke his nose.

You knew he was tired if he didn't have the strength to argue with her.

Jack's eyes then went wide before he could answer her.

"Baby, where's Ivy?"

"Wait, what?" You looked to your left to see that she was no longer there, but a few tables down attempting to steal fries off a stranger's plate.

"Shit. I mean shoot. IVY MAY!" You yelled as you slid from the booth and made a beeline for her.

"Ivy, you know better than to run away from mommy and daddy. And oh my gosh, I am so sorry about her." You said to the older couple who began laughing and they simply brushed you off.

"I want fries, mommy." Ivy said as you picked her up.

"Me and daddy will get you some. But you don't eat other people's food!"

"But you eat daddy's food when he's not looking."

"I-..."

"It's okay, she's cute and I see you and your husband have your hands full." They said while looking over at Jack who looked like he had given up on life since now Axel moved to the other side and was starting to steal sips of his drink instead of drinking his own and Autumn had now climbed on Jack's shoulder.

"Yes, triplets are not for the faint of heart."

You made your way back to the table and made Ivy slide into the booth first to hopefully stop her from escaping again.

"Tell your daughter to stop trying to steal people's food."

"She gets it from you!"

"Imma get you for that later and Autumn stop climbing on daddy and sit down."

She let out a huff before listening to you and Jack simply laid his head down on the table.

"We look like we don't know what we're doing when it comes to them."

"No one told you to get me pregnant with three of them." You said and simply shrugged.

"Maybe you being on birth control actually isn't a bad thing." Jack muttered and you immediately laughed.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #first lady of pg concepts

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fryingpan1234567 · 1 year

Text

Ladies and gentlemen and everything in between, it is nine degrees Fahrenheit outside

as a result: how well different DC characters handle the cold (because we all know it gets freezing in Gotham, sometimes right in the middle of the summer. Metropolis, Star, and Central City aren’t much better.)

Damian Wayne: he’s been raised from a very young age to withstand conditions harsher than most adults- cold was included in that package. However, that doesn’t mean he likes it. He’s right there with his siblings when they get back from a particularly frigid patrol, stumbling to the nearest fireplaces and dialing every naturally warm-running Kryptonian they know for cuddles (of course Dami would only ever be cuddling with Jon, but sometimes it’s nice to be sandwiched between him and Kara as well)

(That in itself is a sight to behold- Cass and Steph snuggling up to their gf Kara who totally has work tomorrow, Jon forcing Dami into his lap with like six blankets so he doesn’t get sick, Tim is literally melted into Conner’s side and hasn’t woken up since he got here, Dick and a reluctant Jason are sharing a massive blanket with Kon, and Clark and Bruce take pictures before sneaking off to cuddle without the prying eyes of their kids while Alfred makes everyone hot cocoa)

There are several heroes including the Flash, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and ofc their respective people (speedsters, Kryptonians, Amazons, Atlantians) who don’t really… get cold. They tend to be used as heated blankets for other JL members and their kids lol

Wally West does not like the cold. Although he never has to worry about it actually damaging him because of his healing factor, it’s just unpleasant as a whole. So that means he comes home to Dick from patrol shivering, with a brand new cold, and pissed off. Dick will just hold him under multiple blankets in bed, watching Disney’s Frozen until they’re both asleep.

Jason Todd is used to it. He grew up on the streets and before that in poverty, so he’s no stranger to Gotham winter. He’ll often give his leather jacket and gloves to people he sees without, leaving him in just his suit and maybe he starts to get a bit chilly by then but it’s so worth it to know he made someone’s night a little more bearable. Plus he’s got a boyfriend and daughter to warm him up when he gets home.

Harley Quinn is an absolute psychopath and rarely wears a coat, even when it’s in the negatives. She’s out there in her pigtails (dyed green and red instead of blue and pink for the holidays!!) and skimpy skirts, not a sign of the winter in sight as far as her outfit goes (unless you count the hideous tree skirt she’s wrapped around her shoulders like a poncho). Something about her is just… immune. And it’s great, bc her gf Ivy definitely does not do quite as well as her in the cold and she’s happy to provide warmth whenever necessary.

Jon Kent is aware that it’s cold outside, but the funny thing is that it doesn’t bother him until he starts thinking about it. Like he’ll be on patrol with Dami or Conner, perfectly fine, and all of a sudden he’s aware of Damian’s chattering or Conner tugging his jacket closer at a gust of wind and then he’s so cold he wants to claw his own skin off. Luckily, whoever he’s with is willing to get him a hot cocoa at the nearest coffee shop, but still, he hates the cold. As a Kryptonian, it’s just unnatural.

Bruce Wayne has had hypothermia so many times in his Batman days that his temperature sensors are honestly dead. Obviously not great, but it means he can sit atop a gargoyle with 70mph frigid winds whipping past and hold whatever bird is tucked beneath his cape to hide from the weather without being affected whatsoever. There is a limit- Alfred has ordered that he come home when the frostbite kicks in, because he does need all his limbs to fight crime, but that’s the extent of his winter protection.

Tim Drake is the type of guy to forget it’s December and march out the house in a short sleeve, almost get blown off his feet by an aggressive breeze, declare “NOPE” and head right back inside. In the winter he does prefer mochas, but he adds so many extra shots of espresso you almost can’t even taste the chocolate anymore. Only Tim Drake could find Christmas horror movies, but he manages, and that’s how he spends 90% of his wintertime, Conner tucked into his side like a personal bf heater.

You know who really likes the cold? Diana Fucking Prince. She never got snow or even so much as a chilly breeze on the island- and you know what the snow does remind her of? That night. The one where she and Steve slow danced in the town square after saving the village, all the way back in WWII. It was the first time she’d ever experienced the cold, but it thankfully wasn’t the last (:

With that guys I gotta go to bed- I’m finally on winter break!! Have a good morning/ night/ 4am y’all 🥰

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turbulentscrawl · 7 months

Note

Thank you for the Weeping hc!!! Would I trouble you for some Weeping sfw and nsfw crumbs?

eheh you bet I can ewe This guy's really growing on me.

Weeping Clown

SFW

-Partially due to his own insecurities and a resulting unwillingness to judge people, Joker doesn’t have much preference for a partner’s body type. He has a fondness for delicate, feminine aesthetics, but it’s not a deal breaker if his partner prefers other styles. Personality is much more important; you need to be kind.

-Joker is terrified of confrontation. All kinds, in and out of matches. If you’re someone who’s often getting into spats with other people, his methods of helping are limited to patching you up after the fact or, if it’s looking really bleak, swooping in with a rocket, scooping you up, and booking it. Seeing you in danger raises his blood pressure so much please he’s begging you to stay out of trouble.

-That said, I mean...he has killed a dude. Or he thinks he killed a dude, anyway, depending on if you think Smiley is alternative Joker or is actually Sergei. If your life were genuinely in danger, it’s not impossible for him to do it again…. But he’d agonize over his actions for the rest of his life.

-It never gets any easier for him to see people, especially you, get hurt or die in matches. He knows it’s not supposed to be permanent. He does. But a part of him is always scared the manor’s revival powers will just disappear one day and you’ll be gone for good. He needs a lot of comforting after matches, so please let him steal you away when you get back.

-He gives, like, amazing hugs and cuddles. He’s tall and lanky enough that he can really ivy-wrap himself around most people. When cuddling laying down, he prefers to be facing his partner so he can admire them. He’ll ghost his fingers over your face and hands randomly throughout, caressing you carefully, just to ease some of the love-pressure building in his chest. He also loves when you sit in his lap, though it makes him incredibly red in the face.

-He likes to share food. Joker’s a bit of a grazer; he likes to have a bunch of little snacks throughout the day. As a result, he doesn’t eat as much at mealtimes, and finds it a great excuse to share a plate. He always offers you some of his snacks, and tends to keep some of your favorites on hand once he knows what they are.

NS/FW

-I think he probably had a few flings during his time in the circus, but he doesn’t look back on them favorably for any number of reasons. Maybe he engaged in them because he was desperate for some affection, then was disappointed when they failed to fill that void. Maybe he was gossiped about after, made fun of. Maybe they just weren’t satisfying. Either way, he doesn’t enjoy talking about them, and didn’t glean much experience from them.

-Sub. Subby sub sub. He will take the lead if you ask him to, but his confidence waivers a lot in that role. And, frankly, he just really likes to be cooed over and doted on. Other than that, though, he’s pretty vanilla.

-He prefers it slow and sweet. Lovemaking requires time, focus, and a lot of kisses. Don’t ever forget the kisses. Please call him Sugar Lips. You can almost see the blush through the face paint. Also, hold his hands. You can even pin them down if you like, just as long as you hold his actual hands instead of his wrists.

He likes spontaneity, so long as the act itself isn’t rushed. He secretly finds it really hot to see his face paint smeared all over your lips and cheeks after you’ve jumped his bones. (He normally take the paint off before sexy times to avoid the extra mess.) He will help you clean up, but just…just give him a minute to look at you. He wants to take it in.

-He dislikes any kind of degradation or intentional causing of pain, both in and out of the bedroom. Do not call him names, insult him, or handle him too roughly. With the way he’s been treated previously, it feels like betrayal coming from his lover.

-It’s also a betrayal if you talk to people about the details of your bedroom endeavors. He doesn’t mind if people know you’ve spent intimate time together, but he can’t stand the thought of people other than his partner knowing about his body or his skills, even if what you tell them is positive. He finds it humiliating for people other than you to know what he’s like under his clothes and paint.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #spicy content #weeping clown x reader #idv weeping clown #idv joker

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skellyflowers · 25 days

Text

Doodles

The manor only has two types of weather. Rain and fog, sometimes both at the same time. It makes the place really cozy. It's pretty normal for us to light the fireplace and make a blanket fort. But today is a little different.

Today Vessel and II are in the study, they have been in there all day. Vessel and II have been composing music for a few days now. III is getting a new Bass so he is also gone. That just leaves me and IV in the library.

I wasn’t really reading the book in my hands. More so looking at the pictures in the book. The book is an antique medieval bestiary. I can't really read the words but I really liked seeing what people back then believed that animals looked like.

IV had been quiet the whole time. That was pretty normal for him. IV and II are the quieter of my boyfriends so I didn’t think too much of it. However, he was sitting in the window seat while I was on the oversized armchair. The chair that is big enough to fit both Vessel and III comfortably. That was odd. All of them are pretty cuddly so the fact that he hasn’t even tried to sit with me is strange.

I look over and see he has a notebook with him. He has been looking between the book and myself for a while. I wonder what he is doing. I stand up and walk over to the window and attempt to look over his shoulder.

“Hey! What are you doing?” He asked. Pulling the notebook to his chest.

“I just want to see what you're doing.” I say, trying to look around him. “Let me see.”

“No. don’t worry about it.”

“Come on Ivy, Pleasssse.” I give him my best puppy eyes.

“It’s nothing Dove. You would think it’s boring.”

I huff at him and climb into IV’s lap. He gets a little wide eyed. Clearly not expecting my next move. I cup his face so he maintains eye contact. One of his hands is on my hip.

“Nothing you do is boring.” I say. “You’re one of the most interesting people I know.”

I put our foreheads together and hold eye contact. I kiss his forehead, his cheeks, nose and chin. I wait a moment before kissing his lips. The hand of my hip grips me and his other hand crawls up my back.

“Can I see it now?” I ask, hoping he agrees.

“Sure” IV has a dazed look on his face from all the kisses.

I carefully pick up the notebook and look at what is inside. IV hides his face in my neck. The notebook is grid paper and full of little pictures. I didn’t know that IV liked to draw. In the book are drawings of flowers, cats and some little nick-nacks I have seen around the manor. As I turn the pages I see that IV also has done some anatomy. There are pen and ink sketches of hands, potentially Vessel’s.

I flipped through the pages and saw the people he had chosen to draw. Some of them I recognize like Adam. I see drawings of Vessel and II. There is one rough sketch of III. On the next page is a drawing of me!

So this is what he was doing! The drawing is of me reading that old book. I try to look at him but when I turn my head IV buries himself in my neck.

“Look at me Ivy.” I say.

Slowly he backs away from me.

“You have any other hidden talents I should know about?”

“You like them?”

“Of course I do! These are really good!”

“Thank you.” he smiles finally. “I wanted to do a good job. You and III are hard to draw.”

“What does that mean?” The comment makes me a little annoyed.

“You and III are always in motion. Makes it hard. Ves and II can really sit like statues.”

“Do the others know?”

“I have only told Vessel.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you.” he puts his hand on my face and lets it slide to my neck. “Get back down here and kiss me again.”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #iv x reader #sleep token fanfiction

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cryptid-ghoulette · 1 month

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Mushy may - you’re blushing

Have some ivy and zephyr cuteness

I’ve not written either of these two before, so it was a fun challenge!

Mushy May prompts by @forlorn-crows

( @sister-nyx come gets your snack!)

WC - 661

No warnings, all fluff

Ivy watched in amusement as zephyr wrapped the black electrical tape around the growing crack along side of the worn out cane, that was honestly more tape than plastic at this point, having been patched up so many times.

He knew that cane was one Zeph had gotten from omega in the infirmary, never meant for long term use and there’s no way it had much longer left in it. he also knew Zeph would set fire to primos roses than ask for help with anything health related, a mix of pride and stubbornness that made him feel like he was a burden to his pack mates, preferring to keep it to himself (until it went so wrong he had no choice)

So he took it upon himself to help out the headstrong air ghoul, deciding keeping it a surprise would be best to prevent the inevitable protest and got to work.

Being an earth ghoul had its perks, woodcarving somehow came incredibly naturally to him, using the trees that fell naturally in the woods around the abbey, sculpting and shaping the intricate and the ornate. He grinned to himself as he wandered over to his greenhouse, already had the perfect piece of wood, just the right height for zephyr, and nice and sturdy (not a single piece of electrical tape in sight),

Eager to get it done as quickly as he could, meant he had to be little sneaky, disappearing into his shed whenever he had a spare moment, fully aware the zephyr and the others were all starting to get more than a bit annoyed that he would just seemingly vanish for hours at a time.

It was all worth it when it was done. The golden alder wood is meticulously carved with intricate vines winding from the bottom giving way to fluffy clouds, carefully etched into the surface. He’d polished it enough to no longer risk splinters, but not enough to lose any of its natural texture and charm. It was perfect.

He sent Zephyr a quick text, asking him to come to the lake for a chat, he didn’t want to make it a big deal, neither one of them good with showing their emotions in front of too many people, better to just be the two of them.

When Zephyr reached the lake he noticed ivy sitting cross legged on the grass, something placed across his lap, hastily wrapped in what looked like Christmas wrapping paper (it was now may).

“Hey big guy, you wanted to see me?” his curiosity growing as ivy placed the wrapped object beside him, turning around to face the smaller ghoul

“I see the cane gained some more tape, Zeph” ivy chuckled, patting the ground next to him “come here, got something for you”

Zeph groaned as he sat down, he knew he’d struggle to get back up, but that was a problem for later, all he could focus on right now was the strange package sitting between the two of them.

Ivy pushed it closer to him, nodding his head softly “go on, open it” he said with a nervous smile. Zephyr picked it up, gently pulling away the paper, a confused look on his face, as he continued slowly revealing the ornate golden wood. His eyes widened as he tossed the last of the paper to the side “Ivy..It’s...” he stuttered, finding himself at a loss for words, ivy gently nudged his shoulder “got sick of looking at that thing” he chuckled, pointing to the tape covered cane “thought you could use something more fitting… something as pretty as you”

Zephyr almost choked, dropping his head and staring at the ground, avoiding Ivy’s gaze as a deep pink spread over his cheeks.

“Thanks, wildflower” he mutters “who know you were such a softie” he says trying to sound braver than he feels

Ivy let out a dry laugh “You’re welcome birdie, you look even prettier when you blush”

#mushy may 2024 #the band ghost #zephyr ghoul #ivy ghoul #cryptidrambling

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charleslee-valentine · 6 months

Text

For The Texas Chainsaw Fanworks Event Day 1: Favorite Ship

Ship(s): Franklin Hardesty x Nubbins Sawyer, past Drayton Sawyer x Lefty Enright.

Word count: ~3,800

Warnings: child abuse mention, ableism mention, tense family dynamics.

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

______

Franklins been at the house for all of ten minutes before a hefty, but docile raccoon gets dumped into his lap.

The Sawyer boys keep her as a pet, since they aren’t allowed any dogs after the last one raided the chicken coop of all the hens and had to be sold off. The worst their raccoon has done is chew through the wall paper, but since it’s already peeling off, that couldn’t be used against her.

Besides, she’s lazy and more than a little overweight after a few long years of getting her sustenance from table scraps, candy, and lots and lots of berries from the bushes out back. Sending her back out into the wild now wouldn’t be any bit kinder than keeping her safe and pampered.

Franklin’s well used to her being around all the time, but it’s only recently he’s started being allowed to hold her. Most of the time without any input from himself, since Nubbins just drops her down onto his lap without any warning.

Like right now, with the raccoon all curled up on him like he’s the comfiest pillow in the house. He gets comfortable scratching behind her ears and patting her tummy pouch, no longer afraid of bites.

Today it’s not just Franklin and Nubbins sitting about, but Bobby’s tagging along again, mostly because he doesn’t have much else to do. Franklin figures it probably gets lonely, just the family here on the farm.

So he’s learned to stop taking offense when Bobby’s curious eyes stare at him for minutes at a time, usually building up to a question.

This time, it’s: “Y-You ever- uh, you ever h-held a c-critter like her be..before?”

Not counting the times the Sawyer boys themselves saw to it that he had held a random rodent they found, that would be a no. Franklin answers to that truth, “Never. You sure she wouldn’t give y’all rabies or somethin?”

Bobby shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. N-Not our miss I-Ivy!”

“Sh-She don’t bite, o-or scratch, or n-nothin’!” Nubbins testifies, breaking the silence that had been his cover since Franklin arrived.

Sometimes he gets like that, all quiet and tense. He’ll usually be much more active with his random movements when that happens, and Bobby will be something of a translator for him. It’s just part of him.

Franklin doesn’t make a big deal out of it, or he knows Nubbins will get more quiet. He just teases, “That’s what you said about Bobby too.”

There’s a short pause, where the twins are processing what he meant. Franklin almost has enough time to worry they took offense to the little quip, but not before they start cackling. It’s the kind of laughter that’s so loud and genuine it echoes off the walls, and it makes Franklin want to laugh too.

He just does. With the boys, it’s easy.

Especially when Nubbins declares delightedly that, “B-But we still l-like him!”

It’s something about the way they can poke fun at each other and knows it’s all for laughs, even when some of the comments they get out in the world aren’t so innocent. The twins hear it all the time when there’s no one home to watch them and they have to go to work with their older brother.

Really, they throw themselves in front of the hateful words, knowing the next in line to take them are Bubba, or even Franklin. People like them don’t get it easy.

So sitting around the table, with a raccoon in his lap, making playful remarks with his boys? That’s something worth holding on to.

They all (except for sleepy Miss Ivy, of course) look up when the only sister in the Sawyer family walks through, having heard their conversation and announcing it to all with, “I wouldn’t count out the rabies anyhow. Bobby boy’s a wild animal.”

“H-Hey! That’s not t-true!” He argues after her, not as close with his older sister to let things like that slide.

All at once, he clumsily pushes his chair back, already darted off after her for some kind of revenge before the chair had even stopped wobbling.

Nubbins waves his hands about excitedly, craning and watching the conflict until he can’t see it anymore because the siblings haul up the stairs to keep arguing. And then he turns back to Franklin so fast his own hair hits him in the face.

Shaky, clumsy fingers pull the strands apart out of his eyes, reorienting and smiling all over again with his eyes fixed on Franklin.

Boy, Franklin knows what’s coming next.

Ever since the first time they kissed, Nubbins has been obsessed with it. Every quiet moment they get, he’s pressing kisses to Franklin’s skin wherever he can reach, be that his hands and his arms or his face.

It’s not faring well for their secret, but it’s also not something Franklin wants to stop anytime soon. Right now, it’s all the shy and chaste stuff still, little presses and gentle bumps, no lust in the mix of romantic feelings. The way they’re comfortable.

Though, Franklin still hasn’t gotten over blushing as red as a rose when Nubbins does kiss him.

This time, it’s a kiss right on his cheek, which is definitely heated up and blushing before Nubbins even pulls away. He’s not even sure what it is that flusters him so much. Probably just somebody so open with his emotions, showing them all for him.

It makes his hands sing.

Flapping and shaking like Nubbins taught him how to. Burning off all the happy that builds up in his body when his boyfriend gives him those sweet kisses.

They’re both doing it, the hand dances, when Drayton floats into the room randomly, holding papers they’d gotten in the mail and ranting about their contents under his breath. Something about bills and taxes. Franklin smiles sheepishly, embarrassed to be in a struggling man’s house, but he gets no response.

It’s all just hot air anyway. Nubbins reminds him of that by poking him in the side where he’s ticklish, making him squish up to one side and giggle. A wordless way of saying, ‘don’t pay no attention to him!’

Big brother Drayton grabs something out the drawers in the corner and paces back out to the kitchen, closing the door behind himself to deal with his troubles on his own. A couple of sheltered up seventeen year olds don’t know all that much about paying for things, so they wouldn’t have been much help to him anyway.

The thing is, the second they’re alone, Nubbins pulls his little stunt again. Kissing Franklin, that is.

This time it’s twice. Once just past the side of his mouth, and once straight on his lips. It gives him all kinds of fuzzy and warm feelings. Makes him want to grab onto his boy and never let go.

But he has to. Cause they’re interrupted once again, darn it.

The boys’ younger cousin Johnny comes running out of nowhere. He ducks behind the table, giggling up a storm. It’s only a few seconds before Bubba stumbles in, squealing delightfully. The children run around in circles, screaming back and forth with each other, playing some sort of chasing game. Bubba roars and Franklin thinks he might be playing as a dragon or something.

It’s around this time that the raccoon in Franklin's lap gets annoyed and jumps down, sauntering away towards the screen door to get outside, to get herself into some trouble probably. He sees Sissy come through and pick the old lady raccoon up and carry her to the back door instead, where the yard is fenced in and safer for her.

Nubbins is to shut down to do it himself, as he covers his ears. He doesn’t like all the noise, but he gets in trouble if he tells Bubba to stop making it. Neither of them can help it. Franklin taps Nubbins gently and shows him to shake his hands and get the yucky feelings off. To try to cope with Bubbas way of copin.

He wiggles his bottom in his chair, which Franklin would imitate if he could. He nods and smiles at least so Nubbins knows he’s doing good. A few months back, or years when the two had first met, Nubbins would’ve snapped at Bubba and hurt both of their feelings in the process.

They don’t really know what Nubbins has got going on in his head that makes him so irritable, but he’s not too good at controlling it, not without some help. Franklin wants to be the one that helps him. Forever and ever.

‘Cause Nubbins is helpful back. He teaches him to do fun things and how to make cool art. Over home, Franklin wouldn’t get nearly as much conversation, he’d probably just sit there quietly all the time and be miserable.

So he hopes it’s alright that he’s here so often. The family accepts him. Even the pet raccoon likes him!

If he’s got Bubba’s approval, he knows he’s good, and that he must, since Bubba gets hurt while playing with Johnny, and goes straight to Franklin.

He’d been running around the table again and bumped his head, and welled up with tears right away. Happy little squeaks turned into loud and snotty wines. Johnny and Nubbins freeze up, being the youngest and the most distracted two in the whole family, neither of them know how to fix it when Bubba gets upset. But Franklins been watchin’ for all his time here. He thinks he can do this.

“Come here, Bubs. Lemme see.” He adjusts his wheelchair around to face Bubba and holds his arms out to him.

The younger boy, a preteen now but much taller than Franklin, inches over and sadly lays his cheek on his shoulder. Franklin has to lean just a bit to observe the little red mark on his head, glad to see it didn’t even break the skin, “Hey now, it’s just a bump. You’re alright. No blood.”

Instant relief. Bubba babbles and pats his hands on Franklin's arms, and he knows that’s the boy thanking him. He smiles, “You’re welcome, Bubba. If it still hurts, go with Johnny boy and tell Drayton you want some ice in a bag.”

Bubba nods and turns to his cousin. The younger boy smiles, tags Bubba on the tippy top of his curly head, and takes off running back towards the kitchen to find Drayton, taking the long way around through the front hall. Bubba follows, looking much better already.

Nubbins gives him a little smile, “H-Hey you’re g-good at that.”

Franklin’s going to shrug it off, say it’s just what friends do for friends, but Nubbins isn’t listening anyways. He’s looking at his lips again. With the position of his wheelchair, they can’t reach each other, so Franklin gives a small nod. He can tell Nubbin wants to move him, but he got in big trouble for touching Franklin's chair without permission.

Frankie himself hadn’t minded it, but Sally saw, and Sally might not get a lot of things right about Franklin, but she was angry that someone would drag her brother around like a doll. She’d screamed at Nubbins til her freckled face was red, and Nubbins was near in tears from anger at being talked to that way.

He really broke down when he got home and got in trouble with Drayton for making the neighbors upset. He’d spent his whole time-out sobbing his eyes out, and punching the wall.

It was ugly and Franklin wanted nothing to do with that again. So they have their little silent moments, where Nubbins can just, sort of look and it’ll imply what he wants. Sometimes that’s better than words with them, and better than just doing it without asking.

Would it have been easier to reposition the chair himself? Absolutely. But it sort of felt nice having Nubbins spin the wheels for him and try to get everything perfect. Like he really cared about having Franklin close.

And then once he gets it, he kisses him one more time. This time, he brings up both of his hands to either side of Frankie’s face, and just holds him there. They don’t move much, it’s pretty much just a lock of their lips, occasionally shifting to breathe. It’d be weird and awkward if it was anybody else.

Instead it makes Franklin blush carnation pink and his heart go pitter patter.

That gentle rhythm turns a hell of a lot more panicked in both of them when suddenly there’s a shriek in the room,

“Nubbins got a boyfriend! Nubbins got a boyfriend!!”

Oh. Bobby came back. He saw.

There've been plenty of close calls before, but nothing the two couldn’t pass off. Two years of hiding is a long time and they maybe got careless. And now Bobby’s jumping up and down and singing and it’s just-

Too much.

“Boyfriend!!! Nubbins! Got! A! Boy-“

The kitchen door slams back open. Drayton whacks the wall with a wooden spatula instead of hitting any of the boys,

“That’s enough, boy! You lost your damn mind?”

Now Bobby’s on the defensive. He shakes his head wildly and points, putting all the attention on his brother and Franklin, “Th-They was kiss-kissin’!”

Nubbins and him stare at the ground. Bobby looks confused why they seem so upset. Romance is supposed to be good! They keep mama’s wedding picture on the mantelpiece and she don’t even live here anymore. It’s not bad that Nubbins could be like mama too, not in his eyes. It’s good that he’s got a boyfriend!

Drayton might beg to differ though. It’s hard to tell, with the tense form of his posture. His eyes are narrowed and he’s just, staring for a moment. Assessing if maybe Robert was lying to him. Til he asks gruffly, “That true?”

“Uh…” Franklin can’t speak. He knows what his boy means to him, but he just can’t articulate it, can’t defend himself in the face of someone he’s afraid of.

Nubbins isn’t afraid. He balls up his fists and slams them on the table and shouts, “Yeh! S-So what?”

“Ain’t going to have none of that in my house, is so what.” Drayton says it sort of like a command. Like he expects the two of them to just break up on the spot. Calm because of a smugness, and because he’s so angry underneath.

Oh, but his Nubbins turns bright red in anger, the glaring birthmark on his cheek deepening like the color of blood when it gets under the skin like a bruise. He accuses, “Yer just m-mad cause you got n-nobody t’ kiss! Lefty left you, a-an’ yer all-all alone! Mean old m-man!”

Drayton grits his teeth, sort of like a growl, “Shut up.”

Franklin really needs to ask more about what happened between his uncle and the oldest Sawyer. For now, he’s watching this argument like you’d watch a ball game, back and forth between the angry brothers shouting at each other. His jaws a little slackened in awe.

“Nuh-uh. I-I’m gonna kiss my Fr-Franklin whenever I want!” Nubbins declares, and gets real close to Franklin, nose pressed into his cheek, as if to prove it.

“Don’t you dare-“ Drayton warns, but it’s too late.

Nubbins kisses Franklin's face all over, cartoonishly and childlike, with little “~mwah” noises and everything. It’s sorta sweet in a way. Doesn’t stop Franklin from being mortified.

And it doesn’t stop the oldest from reacting. Drayton marches forward, shoving extra furniture out of his path, to get to Nubbins, pulling him back hard by his bony shoulder.

“Why you little-“

His hand raises up automatically to thwack Nubbins. Nubbins pokes his tongue out, disobeys, but he shrinks down too. He anticipates the painful contact.

Dread settles heavy in the room.

Franklin can’t breathe. They’d talked. This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. Nubbins wasn’t scared, things were better now, they’d be okay-

Bobby breaks his stunned silence from things going so so wrong, to shriek out, “N-No, Drayton!”

Franklins realizes he has the power to speak too. He’s much closer to everything. Can hear the angry breaths and see the shaking bodies. It scares him, but he tries to be firm too, “Don’t hurt him.”

The image of getting a smack of his own plays in his head and he bows apologetically, “Please.”

Somewhere, that reminds Drayton of his hollow promises. His face even goes a little pale.

Stiff and awkward, he taps his hands on Nubbins’ arms. It looks like it’s supposed to be comforting, and at least Nubbins takes it that way cause he relaxes a little. Drayton eventually, with a little bit of effort now that he’s past forty, crouches down by the chair. It’s not really a hug per se, but he kinda lays his head on Nubbins, and the boy accepts it, curling up to make as much contact as possible.

This isn’t the pretend to get along stuff, or the scream until their throats are raw hatred. They’re trying to love each other. Drayton’s trying to be vulnerable. Nubbins is trying to not fight.

Franklin, for one, is confused though. It doesn’t make sense.

“I thought you was mad?” He asks quietly, eyes fixed to the floor like seeing the Sawyer siblings hug is something to be ashamed of.

“Been through a lot, kid.” Drayton answers automatically, pulling away from the bit of strange affection he was able to show, rising to his feet again.

There’s silence for a long time, while everybody tries to think of what to say.

Drayton paces on the spot a little. Bounces impatiently, his temper with himself now mostly. Wipes his hands on his work pants.

Finally, he speaks, seeing that nobody else is going to, and having something else on his mind he needs to put out, “I’m all they got. Can’t let a simple thing ruin it….. I won’t get on your case. Just.. Just you stay outta his bedroom, you hear?”

Oh god. They’re not- Franklin never- Where did he..?

Franklin just nods, and he’s sure he looks stupid, but he was caught off guard! The implication there is beyond embarrassing, something that never even occurred to him yet. He’s sure his own flushed face is hot enough to rival the sun.

Drayton accepts the nod as the answer it is, more than used to not getting words for answers. And then he lingers sort of awkwardly, extending his hand out for maybe a hand shake with the boy, but then withdrawing it immediately before Franklin can even accept.

There’s something going on in that old man’s head, and Franklin wants nothing to do with it.

It’s only because Nubbins forgives him that he doesn’t hate Draytons guts. Maybe he gets the luxury of being an outsider, or maybe it’s because he’s got both his parents and just one little sister. Whatever it is, something tells Franklin it isn’t his place to decide for the Sawyers.

Either way, doesn’t mean he has to be a fan of Drayton Sawyer.

And maybe he glares a little at the door after the man leaves again, muttering to himself about something indistinct, not the same as the finances rants. More like he’s scolding himself or something.

The twins are over it though. They’re fixed back on their respective friend and partner, both leaning in to ask him something quiet.

It’s Nubbins who does the speaking for the question they both have, “Why a-ain’t you allowed i-in our room?”

God, no. Franklin cannot answer that right now. He’ll die of humiliation trying to explain it to the boys. Shouldn’t they know that already at seventeen?

“Uh.. that’s probably a question for your brother.”

Bobby recoils and scrunches up, acting like he touched something gross, and squeaks, “Ew, we d-don’t wanna talk to h-him!”

Never thought he’d see the day, but he’s actually about to defend their older brother. Not because he likes him, that'd just be a downright lie, but because he knows this’ll be easier if they don’t all fight amongst each other all the damn time. No hitting, no arguing, no name-calling.

That’s probably wishful thinking. Franklin tries to mediate peace anyways, “You heard what he said. He cares ‘bout y’all. Sometimes you gotta talk to him.”

But Robert Sawyer is one stubborn son of a gun. He just shakes his head and flicks his hair dismissively, “That’s d-dumb.”

That offends Nubbins into speaking up, “Fr-Franklin’s not dumb, Bobby!”

There’s a moment where they just stare at each other, before Nubbins strikes. It’s like nobody in the world is allowed to breathe until they solve their problem. Which they choose to do by wrestling it out.

The fight is like watching two lions without teeth trying to kill each other. They just sort of push and hit and pull hair. Bobby bites Nubbins on the arm once. Nubbins shoves a pile of chicken feathers from the next room, that were left from Bubba bringing his favorite hen in the house, into Bobby’s face.

All of it’s mostly harmless. That’s probably why Franklin feels a little flattered, watching his boy defend him that way. If it were anybody other than his own twin brother, he might even do some actual damage.

All for Franklin. ‘Cause he isn’t stupid. Just like Nubbins didn’t deserve to be hit.

He’s glad he stood up for him. And that Nubbins did it right back.

It’s something a little like love that flutters in his chest.

That is, until the spirit of the Holy Ghost gets scared right out of him by more unexpected yelling and banging on the wall.

Drayton crowd, “Y’all aren’t gettin’ nothin’ for supper if you don’t stop yer rough housin’!”

For a moment, the twins are just stuck looking at each other in horror, before they work on untangling and righting themselves, helping each other fix their hair so they don’t look like they’ve just been fighting. It’s too late, their brother already knows, but they hide the evidence anyways.

The thing Franklin finally understands, is that it’s not a lie when Nubbins says he isn’t scared.

It sort of inspires him to wanna feel that way too.

So this time, once the boys are settled back in their seats, he initiates a kiss, right on Nubbins’ cheek. Nubbins sneaks and turns his head quick to make it a real kiss, but just a peck.

Bobby giggles and points at them, “Y’all got.. C-Coooooties!”

Nubbins would’ve probably jumped across the table and tackled him again if the rest of the family didn’t start coming in for supper.

Instead, he’ll hold Franklin’s hand, all throughout, for the rest of the day even if he can help it, and not care even one little bit who’s looking,

#tcmfanevent #nubbins sawyer #franklin hardesty #franknub #chop top sawyer #bobby sawyer #drayton sawyer #bubba sawyer #johnny and sissy appearances #franklin hardesty x nubbins sawyer #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm 1974 #tcm 2 #tcm fanfic

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