#Lenny sounds good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

appalachiancowboy99 · 3 months ago

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After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air. Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else.

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

#Thank you for reading - from the bottom of my little Appalachian Heart <3 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #grumpy #fluff #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr #dutch van der linde #molly o'shea #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you

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imfinereallyy · 2 years ago

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“Dad is going to be very angry,” El says with wide eyes taking in the scene before them.

“You think Hop will kill him?” Steve says as he leans against the doorway, eating a Twizzler.

El looks at Steve momentarily, sticking her hand out for some candy. Steve hands her one without hesitation. El rips a piece off before speaking. “Oh yes. He might ask you to help hide the body.”

Steve nods solemnly, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Mikes’s my least favorite child anyway.”

“Hey!” Mike yells, gaining the duo's attention. It brings them back to the scene they walked in on. Mike and Will, with the door closed (no three inches in sight) on top of each other, making out.

Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get that image out of his brain.

“Chill, Wheeler, I'm joking,” Steve says pointedly before turning to El and mouthing no, I'm not.

El giggles, and Steve can't help but feel like he won a prize at the sound.

“I'm sorry, El.” Will blushes with shame, like he is betraying his sister somehow.

El just shrugs, “I do not care. But Dad might. He hates Mike.”

Steve snorts, “That's the understatement of the century. I don't think Hop has ever hated someone’s partner like he has Mike. Honestly, I was surprised he liked Eddie. I mean like is a strong word. But he tolerates him.”

Will pipes up, “I think he does mostly because he knows you'll move out, and he only just got you to agree to stay here.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll take what I can get. At least he doesn't walk on me having sex.”

“We weren't having sex!” Mike practically screams. Hands up exasperated. “And don't talk about you and Eddie; it's gross.”

Will blushes deeply with head in his hands, “Oh, God.” El pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Also, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot and just knocked!” Mike stomps. Jesus, this kid is 15 acting 6.

“I was the one who walked in, Mike. I wanted to know if Will wanted to watch a movie.” El says coldly, getting defensive of her brother.

Mike clams up, Steve can't help but feel smug.

“Who’s having sex?!?” A distinct Hopper-like voice echoes through the house.

Will and Mike share a panicked look while Steve and El take more Twizzlers from the bag.

“Oh no. Mike! What are we going to do?”

Mike sputters, “He doesn't have to know it was us! And we weren't having sex!”

Will looks at him like Mike is the biggest moron he's ever met. Steve loves the kid (despite early protest) but has to agree. “Oh gee Mike, I wonder who he will think it was about. Steve? Who is dating a man who isn't here and keep in mind, it's Steve. Who is our brother, and five years older than us? And in a relationship? And let's not forget..is Steve?!”

“This is fair.” Steve agrees. If anyone but Baby Byers had attempted to say that, Steve would have been pissed. But it's Will, so it's coming from a good place.

“Also! Also! The other person here is El! Who is my sister! Not to mention your ex—”

“—well it could have been—”

“Micheal Steven Wheeler, if the next words out of your mouth are it could have been you and El, I will never be kissing you again.” Will uses a deathly tone. Steve isn't convinced he didn't get from El.

“Your middle name is Steven?” Steve fills giddy.

“Shut up Steve!”

Will pinches his brows, “And you idiot, if it were you and El, you would still he toast.”

Steve whistles, “Shit, Will. Next time I need to win an argument against Eddie. I'm coming to you.”

“How long does it take for dad to get upstairs?” El interrupts.

All of them look down the hall. “Huh, maybe we are in the clear,” Mike whispers.

“I said who is having sex?!?” Hopper comes thundering up the stairs.

“I think this is what Max calls a jinx.” El looks at Mike unphased.

Steve can't help but feel a little bad for Will. He looks panicked around the room, probably looking for a hiding place. Steve knows that it isn't that same fear Will once had of Lenny, Hop wouldn't hurt them ever, but he can't help but feel a little protective of him. Steve knows all too well how the fears of biological fathers can sneak up on you, even if you know you're safe. “Don’t worry, Will. I'll make sure Hop takes it easy.”

Will relaxes, “Thanks Steve.”

“What about me?” Mike asks, eyes wide.

El shares a look with Steve. Spending as much time as they have lately has allowed them to talk without speaking most of the time. It freaks everyone but Robin out (she gets it). Seconds go by before they both nod in agreement.

Steve and El both wip their heads towards Mike, and Steve says, “You were grossed out by my relationship and called me stupid. Suffer.”

Mike's outcry is in synch with Hop breaking through screaming, “There better be three inches!”

#steddie #byler #this is just about Steve and el bonding #steve teaching El the best way to beat mean girls is to be one #eleven hopper #steve Harrington #stranger things #Eddie munson #mike wheeler #will byers #Steve Harrington and El hopper have a sibling relationship #found family #my writing #ficlet #mean girl steve harrington #fluff #fanfiction #jim hopper

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 6 months ago

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Rye Whiskey

♢ Summary: Celebrating Sean's return to camp includes a drunk Arthur, which allows you to discover this whole new side of him. ♢Words: 2057 ♢Warnings: None except for the whole alcohol/drinking theme, basically it's just a one-shot of a fluff idea I had watching the video of drunk Arthur saying nonsense to Saddie. ♢a/n: I recommend reading it with the mindset that Arthur is in the same state as in "A Quiet Time" and listening to Rye Whiskey to put you in the mood! Wrote a little sequel for this! Read it here. ♢Credits: These gorgeous dividers are from @cafekitsune!

♪ "O Mollie O Mollie, it's for your sake alone,

That I leave my old parents, my house and my home!" ♪

Even if one didn't know Sean had returned to the gang, they could have noticed it right away hearing his cheerful singing, his thick Irish accent rolling the words even more musically. As the main entertainer of the gang, he was absolutely delighted to have a party thrown for him, and honestly, his big toothless smile made your heart feel warmer. Tonight, in the fresh air of New Hanover, it was only laughter, guitar notes, and drunken sounds that were echoing through the camp, everyone finally having a real good time since they had settled at Horseshoe Overlook after such a long period hidden in the ruthless cold of the Grizzlies.

You were sitting around one of the campfires, with Javier, Sean, Uncle, and John. Karen had also joined, gladly sitting on Sean's lap with a bottle in her hand; you were sure there was something between them, and the poor man probably deserved some sweet time after what he had been through. Talking about bottles, the floor was flooded with a large amount of them around your little singing group, almost like a big pond of green shining glass you all fed every few minutes when someone would empty one.

You had your fair share of drinks already, a slight blush burning your cheeks, the alcohol keeping you warm under the night's cold breeze and happy despite the gang's precarious situation. Funny, how whiskey would make everything easier and more entertaining, no matter who or where you were looking at.

Alright, you had to admit it, maybe you were a bit tipsy, but so were John, Javier, Sean, and Karen, their happy faces softly lit by the golden flames. But Arthur, -Oh Lord, Arthur was far beyond drunk, he was wrecked. Looking at him from where you were sitting and singing along, you could see just how much of a mess he was; at least three of his shirt's buttons were undone, said shirt opened messily; his hair scattered under his hat and looking a bit sticky, almost as if he had put his whole head into a barrel of beer; he had a constant smile on his face, and his body was swaying slightly as if he was an unstable bottle being tossed around by the waves of a tormented sea. You chuckled to yourself; he was quite a sight to see, and you wondered if you actually had ever seen him that drunk. A few weeks back, Lenny had told you about the wild night he and Arthur had at Valentine's saloon, but the man in question had slept in jail and came back to camp completely sober, which made you unable to see his incredibly drunken state and made you wonder what the hell he must have done to end up in said jail.

♪ "If the Oceans were whiskey, and I were a duck, -Quack quack !-

I'd dive to the bottom, and get one sweet sup !" ♫

You chuckled at how Arthur had added the quacking part, finding it quite endearing. It was almost as if it was a whole new side of him, and you couldn't stop watching. His deep voice sounded surprisingly good as he was singing with the others, and you caught yourself liking hearing it. After all, you always had a sweet spot for him, so you wouldn't complain about having the opportunity to look at him as much as you wanted without him noticing it (or at least, being too drunk to understand what exactly was happening). His bright blue eyes, sparkling with the orange ashes of the fire, along with his light brown hair and stubble, his black opened shirt, his thin lips curled into this big stupid smile... It was all making your heart melt more and more. You almost lost it when he started drinking again, roughly grabbing a nearby bottle, probably without even knowing what it was containing, and bringing it to his mouth, the golden liquid sliding in his throat, making his Adam's apple bob, some glistening drops of it flowing from the bottle all the way down his scarred chin, then his throat, ending up lost in the dark hairs of his chest.

You're suddenly pulled out of your starring trance by his loud voice cutting through the song's lyrics: "Lenny, mah boy! Come and sing with us."

"Arthur... You had too many drinks again..." Lenny answered with an amused giggle as he was passing behind him, catching his inebriated eldest as he had got up to greet him, but ended up stumbling on the way and almost tripped on him, it only made Arthur laugh at himself.

There was no need to specify that Lenny had trouble holding him upright, Arthur being under normal circumstances quite a weight to carry, and even more so when he was in such a state not making any effort to prevent his face from kissing the ground. Quickly, you got up yourself, and took a few steps towards the men, helping Lenny on his difficult task.

"Look who it is... Miss Y/L/N !" Arthur greeted you with foggy eyes and a wide grin as if you two hadn't seen each other for years when you had talked only a few hours ago. He instantly put one of his arms above your shoulders and the other around Lenny's. "C-come ooon, let's dance !"

Lenny sighed before laughing a bit, letting Arthur bring him into his drunken enthusiasm; you chuckled along with him, not complaining about being so close to the handsome cowboy you had your heart and eye on for a while, even if he was barely able to register what he was actually doing and with whom. As Javier started playing a lively song, Arthur, Lenny and you were throwing your legs up in the air; you laughed some more noticing how your favorite cowboy had a hard time actually following the rhythm. You couldn't believe just how euphoric he was tonight, almost as if the bottles had turned on a switch in his mind, making him go completely wild without any of his usual gruff restraints. Maybe that was what the alcohol did to everyone. Maybe that was what it was doing to you right now but you couldn't be sure if it was, precisely because you were happily drunk and carefree.

The night continued and you blushed realizing Arthur hadn't let you go, his arms always ended up around your shoulders or on it as he was sometimes leaning against you. His manly scent, a sweet mix of smoky tones brought by tobacco and gunpowder, and woody ones, supported by pine and leather traces. Your head was starting to feel dizzy just by smelling it, your mind even more intoxicated by it than the alcohol you had been drinking all night.

"Maybe..."

You brush away your thoughts, he was really drunk, and he could have been like that with anyone. You spent the rest of the night having fun, drinking some more, laughing, singing, the whole gang having more and more fun as everyone had loosened up thanks to the booze. However at some point, the main man of the party, Sean, disappeared with Karen, and people started going to bed. After all, it was almost morning already, the stars of the night not as bright anymore as they were around the middle of the night, subtle sun rays making their presence known behind the outlines of the mountains, but not appearing just yet.

It was now only you, John, and Arthur left around the campfire, the dark-haired man looking down at his brother at heart, an amused grin on his face. Arthur was half asleep at you and John's feet, bottle in one hand, his other arm curled up around your leg. With all the proximity and physical contact he had given you through the whole night, your heart and body had gotten warmer, and you had to make enormous efforts to keep your thoughts in line, not wanting to have any false hope about him and his behavior.

"He's so goddamn drunk... " John sighed.

"Clearly."

"Come on, let's carry him to bed." John said to you, getting up with difficulty from the log you both were sitting on.

"Aah, you guys are no f-fun!" Arthur protested, his voice even hoarser than usual due to his intoxicated self. "Come on, one more drink!"

"Nope, you're going to bed." John's own croaky tone answered his partner. He then looked at you while bending down, expecting you to help him lift Arthur's poor body.

You leaned over, helping John. Arthur was barely able to walk, leaning heavily on you and John, one of his arms above John's shoulder just as earlier with Lenny, but his other one around your waist. Your cheeks burned. Even if it was just drunken attention... You liked it.

The three of you started to walk to Arthur's tent, as fast as you could considering his feet were more brushing the ground than actually stepping on it. You just weren't capable of having any coherent thoughts at this point, your whole being living for the warm sensation of his big palm on your waist, feeling how his fingers were gently rubbing against your clothes.

"You two... Are the b-best..." Arthur slurred out in a rough voice when you had reached his tent. As gently as you both could, John and you were trying to lay him in his cot.

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Arthur." John answered with an amused chuckle, placing one of his legs in its rightful place on his bed.

"Y/N, you're beautiful..." Arthur added in an almost unintelligible rumble, as you were pulling back from him. "I l-love you."

Your jaw dropped. What did he say? Did you hear that right? You froze, eyes glued to the outlaw, who was already turning around to sleep on his stomach, lips parted, a light snore emerging from his noose; he had instantly fallen asleep as if he had permission to now that he was in his cot.

John looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't take it seriously, Y/N." He advised you. "He already told that to Abigail and Karen before, even Saddie if I reckon right."

"Oh, erm... Alright, I won't." You answered your friend. Honestly, you probably would have slept better not knowing that; a sharp little sliver of disappointment subtly piercing through your heart. "Goodnight then, John."

"Goodnight, Y/N, thanks for the help." The scarred man greeted you before heading to his own tent. It was so late, you were sure Abigail would reprimand him for that tomorrow morning.

But that was John's problem, and you already had one yourself.

You took a last look at your sleepy cowboy before walking off to your own tent. He looked cute like this, hair messy, clothes completely disheveled; even his snoring was pretty endearing to you. You reluctantly turned your back to him, resisting the urge to actually lay with him in his cot. After all, he wouldn't have complained, wouldn't he? He probably wouldn't even have noticed... These thoughts got stuck in your brain as you lay in your own cot, pretty tired yourself after partying all night, your spirit slowly drifting away in the realm of dreams, sleep troubled by blurry visions of what had happened during the night, a beautiful, charming, stupid smile keeping on reappearing from time to time in your slumber.

Arthur opened his eyes. "It hurts"; were the first words that came to his mind. His back, his neck, his goddamn head, everything was hurting him. Getting old was definitely not a piece of cake. He rubbed his eyes, which felt dry and burnt, just like his thorny throat, even if a slight string of saliva had slid from his mouth. Getting that drunk was definitely too frequent for him lately, the other night with Lenny still engraved in his memory and his tired body, fed up with his poor drinking decisions. He slowly got up, rubbing his face, carefully avoiding his gaze from looking at the sun, its light way too powerful for him in this hungover state.

Looking around the camp, he smiled internally seeing Karen emerging from Sean's tent. Little bastard had gotten himself a good time last night. While thinking back about what happened, he had a hard time remembering all of it, as often when he was that drunk. Maybe it was better that way, considering his impressive capacity to get in trouble and make a fool of himself in those kinds of situations. However this time, something was lingering in the back of his mind.

You.

Your delicate smell, how the soft fabric of your clothes felt under his fingers, how your voice sounded into his ears, how smooth and mellow your leg was. How the hell did he knew about all that? He focused, frowning, trying so hard to remember what had happened, but all he had was these sensations, those pleasant, haunting sensations. He couldn't help but feel flustered all by himself, sat on his bed, cheeks getting slightly flushed, just imagining the reasons why he suddenly knew so much about the grain of your skin and the warmth of your body against his;

He prayed deeply he didn't do anything stupid with you; Lord knows how important you were to him. Hell, he had thought about you a lot already, thought about offering you flowers or maybe a nice jewel, something that would be as pretty as you even if to him, no physical object could ever compete with your astonishing beauty and your adorable, sweet, sunny personality.

But before all that, he needed to have a few words about last night with you. Probably would stumble on his words, look like an idiot again, but at least he would be able to be close to you, just like in those sweet lingering memories in his head.

Sequel here.

a/n : Alright so... Here it is! My first one-shot ever. Please, if you notice anything, any mistakes, or a weird-sounding sentence: let me know! English isn't my first language and I'm actually anxious as hell to publish this! Anyway, thanks for reading this until the end and take care <3

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fandom #one shot #pinefic #arthur morgan fluff

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slut4thebroken · 9 months ago

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Dad/stepdad finding your vibrator hcs

Tommy Shelby, Cillian Murphy, Raymond Leon, Jackson Rippner, Lenny Miller

(All accurate to the universe’s time period)

Tommy Shelby - To say he was shocked would be an understatement. At first he was concerned— were you suffering from hysteria and he didn’t even know? But then he remembered that vibrators have very recently started being used for more… personal activities. He confronted you about it anyway though. You blushed and stuttered out “I- I can explain..” and he found it amusing at first, but he kept his expression stern. It was when you broke down crying that he suddenly softened. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad..” You cried out, making him pull you into a hug and shush you, trying to calm you down. “I’m not mad, love.” He said gently. “Just… tell me what it’s for.. I promise I won’t be mad.” You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes to see if he was being truthful. When you found no sign of a lie, you whispered that you use it for self pleasure, which he already knew. He just wanted to hear you say it. He sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re old enough to be playing with adult toys like this?” He asked, and you muttered out an excuse of how you just turned 18. “Maybe so, but I still don’t think it’s appropriate at your age.” That triggered something inside of you and you whined about how you’re an adult and you can do what you want, acting far too bratty for his liking. “Is that so? An adult, are you?” He had a condescending smirk on his lips and he pretended to think it over, then scoffed a laugh. “Fine then. If you’re an adult I guess I should start punishing you like one.” His tone was noticeably darker now. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Cillian Murphy - He knew he should’ve ignored it, respected your privacy… But he just kept thinking about you using it. The pretty sounds you probably made, the way your cheeks probably became flushed… But then he started thinking about you using it with someone.. Did you have a secret boyfriend? Or were you exploring your sexuality all on your own… Deciding to do the responsible thing, he started planning out when and how to talk to you about all of these new things you may be feeling as a developing young woman. One day he sat down with you, gently told you what he knew and reassured you when you immediately became embarrassed. He told you that it was natural and nothing to be ashamed of… “A young girl like yourself needs someone to guide her, teach her what’s right and how to be safe.” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “As your father, I’m afraid that role falls on me.” He tried not to seem too excited by the idea. Standing up, he walked over to where the toy was hidden and brought it back over to the bed, handing it to you. “I need to make sure you’re using it the right way. I’d hate for my little girl to get hurt.” He frowned, watching as your eyes widened. He didn’t let you protest as he helped removed your clothes and laid you down on the bed. “Now show me exactly how you’re using it, sweetheart.”

Raymond Leon - At first, he almost mistook it for something else, but when he did a double take, he realized what it actually was. A rush of emotions hit him, the main ones being anger, disappointment, and arousal. Were you turning into a whore? Did he do something wrong when raising you? When you came home one day, he was waiting on your bed, the vibrator next to him. You were immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment and humiliation- good. You started trying to defend yourself, saying it’s not what it looks like. “Don’t try to play innocent.” He scoffed. “Get over my fucking lap.” His voice was so harsh, it made you tear up as you begged him not to. So he roughly grabbed you and pulled you over his thighs, then flipped your skirt up. He spanked you until his hand was burning and there were little welts on your ass. You were sobbing loudly, the pain becoming too much, and with the way you kept squirming and rubbing against his cock, he eventually got hard. He forced the vibrator between your legs, making you apologize for your whorish behavior as you came over and over again until he was satisfied. “Get on your knees.” He demanded and you slid off his lap to the floor, still sobbing and almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. “There are consequences for acting like a whore.” He spat, quickly opening his pants to free his cock, making your breath catch in your throat. “So, be a good girl for once and finish what you started.”

Jackson Rippner - He had been trying so hard to be a good father figure- god knows you desperately needed it. But as soon as he found a vibrator hidden away (very poorly) in one of your drawers, he just lost all control. He managed to wait a few days until it was only the two of you in the house, then confronted you. This wasn’t his proudest moment… but he didn’t regret it. “What would your mom think, huh?” He asked, subtly threatening you. “I would hate to have to tell her… but maybe we can work something out.” He said coyly, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed and pouted. He made you beg for it, for his cock and for him to not tell your mom. Once he had you underneath him with his cock fully sheathed in your little cunt, he practically plowed into you until you cried. “This is your own fault.” He hissed. “The only reason this is happening is because you teased me by leaving it somewhere for me to find.” You sobbed harder and shook your head, unable to do anything else to protest. “You’ve been a fucking tease since day one with those tiny little shirts and the skirts that barely cover your ass… I’m fucking sick of it.” He growled, getting more worked up. “From now on, you’re gonna let me use this cunt whenever I want, or I’ll tell your mom about your little secret, and how you seduced me and begged me to fuck you.”

Lenny Miller - You should’ve known better than to think you could hide things from him. Just like you should’ve known better than to think you could lie to him. But when he confronted you, you denied it. Which he figured you might do… That’s why he set up a camera in your room, hidden in a vent but angled perfectly at your bed. The quality was not the best, but it was good enough to still obviously show what you were doing. He can’t even count the amount of times he came to that footage of you. When you tried lying, he sighed and reached for the remote, already having the tape ready in the tv. The second it turned on, you lips parted in shock and your face paled, then a very dark blush took over your cheeks. “There are a few different ways this can go. Option one: the camera stays up and you can keep the vibrator. Option two: I punish you, then confiscate it, but I’ll take down the camera.” He paused, lowering his voice into something darker and thick with arousal. “Or option three: you show me just how sorry you are for owning something like this. I’m still going to punish you, but if you do a good enough job begging, I might just let you keep it.” He said coyly. He waited impatiently for you to choose and when you couldn’t get any words out, still glancing at the tv, he chose for you. He spanked you until you cried and made you suck his cock to prove you were sorry, then forced you to ride him while you begged for his forgiveness.

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 5 days ago

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Closed Position: Week 6 (Argentine Tango)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 27.3k (I know, I'm sorry!)

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by or toward Dieter), past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Dieter and Kat both being a menace, improper use of a dressing room, smut, fluff, and physical assault (Alec is a dick)

Chapter Quote: “Can’t have you gettin’ confused and grabbing the wrong erection.”

Dieter’s POV

I was still riding high from our perfect score as I sat in the chair staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I shouldn’t have been shocked given how perfectly in sync Kat and I were during the performance, but I was. I never thought I would find myself in this position - happily sober, having the high score on a dance competition TV show, and completely in love with my dance partner. The thought of it was blowing my mind. There was only one explanation for it, to put it simply, it was Kat. Her unyielding faith was all it took to help me see myself in a different light. She made me realize that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for and I’m actually not a shitty person. She gave me the courage to be a better version of myself and have the things I didn’t think I was worthy of.

My attention was drawn from my thoughts by the buzzing of my phone. I had a new text from Evan and another from my agent, Lenny. I tapped to open Evan’s.

Evan: Dude, if you two are trying to keep things on the down low, you suck at it. That performance was 🔥🔥🔥.

Me: That obvious? Fuck.

Evan: Yeah, better be prepared for the inevitable speculation to ramp up.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as a soft knock sounded at my door. I assumed it was Kat as I called out, “Door’s open.”

A petite brunette tentatively stuck her head through the crack as she opened the door. I recognized her as Marc’s partner. Shit. What’s her name? She’s the TikTok girl. Sarah? No…Stefanie!

“Hey, Stefanie. What’s up?” I asked, a little confused by her presence.

She pushed the door open further to step inside. She was wringing her hands together as Marc followed her through the threshold. She seemed tense and unsure.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Dieter. It may be nothing…but I just saw Alec coming up behind Kat in her dressing room as she shut the door. It looked…odd. I don’t think she knew he was in there. I know they’re…”

Blood was suddenly pounding in my ears. I didn’t hear the rest of her sentence as I stood from my seat and asked, “Did you see him come out or hear anything?”

She shook her head, “No, but it gave me a weird vibe. With everything going on, we felt like someone should know.”

I nodded, already moving toward the door. “She doesn’t wanna be alone with him. Thank you for telling me.”

Without giving it a second thought I was jogging down the hall toward Kat’s dressing room, vaguely aware that Marc and Stefanie were following behind me. I felt sick. Something doesn’t feel right about this.

I began knocking and calling out to her as soon as I reached the door, “Kat, it's me. Can I come in?”

I got nothing but silence in return. Marc turned to one of the other couples who were standing just outside a dressing room across the hallway. “Did you see Kat or Alec come out?” he asked. With wide-eyes, they shook their heads no.

I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest. If they were only talking, she would still answer me. Right?

I knocked harder, “Kat, I’m coming in.”

I reached for the knob and twisted, but it was locked. “Fuck!”

My chest was heaving as I looked around with panicked eyes. I could faintly hear Marc saying something about keys before the couple that had been standing nearby took off down the hallway. My attention was drawn back to the door, convinced I heard a light thump against it. I glanced at Marc, and he nodded. He heard it too. Before I even realized what I was doing, my shoulder began knocking against the hard metal as I continued to yell for Kat to unlock it. The door did not budge. Realizing that it was pointless to continue, I stepped back, allowing my eyes to scan the area for anyone who could possibly help. There was no one else around.

I could feel the panic setting in, worried that Alec might be doing something to hurt her. Given the way he looked at us as he left the staging area toward the end of the show, I couldn’t help thinking the worst.

The sound of the knob jiggling brought my attention back to the door. I reached out, twisting to find that it was now unlocked. As I pushed it open, I was briefly met by Alec’s surprised face before my focus shifted to Kat, clawing at his hands clasped tightly around her neck. Her eyes were wide in panic as she gasped for air. I reacted on instinct, determined to keep her safe as I threw myself at him. I had never in my life wanted to cause anyone bodily harm, but at that moment I was out for blood.

Kat’s POV

I could feel the fight in me fading as Alec’s hands tightened around my throat. I was near blacking out when I heard Dieter knocking at the door. Hearing his voice and knowing that he was trying to get to me ignited a new burst of adrenaline. I tried to call out to him but couldn’t get any sound to come out. Alec seemed unfazed by the fact that someone was at the door. His focus was on my face, stoic and unblinking. I tried kneeing him in the groin, but once he realized what I was doing, he somehow maneuvered himself between my thighs so that I couldn’t.

I was so afraid Dieter would leave, thinking I wasn’t in here. So, I changed tactics, kicking at the door with my heel while trying to relieve some of the pressure around my neck with my hands. I could feel myself fading again as Alec regained his tight grip. I could hear Dieter trying to open the door. I was torn between not wanting him to find me like this and praying he got the door open. I knew he would lose it on Alec if he saw this.

I somehow found the strength to twist in Alec’s grip, which allowed me to forcefully connect an elbow with the side of his face. The shock of it caused him to release his hold just enough that I was able to reach the door handle to my left and unlock it. Alec didn’t realize what I had done until he was face-to-face with a very angry Dieter Bravo.

Dieter had Alec on the floor in the blink of an eye, shoving him off of me then giving a quick jab to the throat before pinning Alec down as he gasped for air. Marc and his partner followed Dieter into the room. They immediately came to my aid as I rubbed at the stinging and throbbing around my neck, fighting back tears as I inhaled deeply to catch my breath.

I pushed them away, moving toward Dieter. I attempted to plead for him to stop, but I couldn’t get any sound out. My throat felt raw through my feeble attempts. I pushed Marc toward them, begging him to do something. I couldn’t let Dieter get in trouble over this asshole.

It all happened so fast as Dieter got a few solid punches in before wrapping his hands around Alec’s throat as he cursed the man underneath him. I never would have imagined Dieter was capable of such a reaction, but it made me realize the lengths he would go to in order to protect those he cares about. The crazed look in his eyes probably should have scared me, but it didn’t. All I could think of doing was protecting him.

Even though Dieter was a lot bigger than Marc, Marc somehow managed to pull him off Alec before he took it too far. Alec scrambled to his feet, fear briefly flashing on his face before he collected himself and gave us both a sneer as he wiped at his bloody lips. “See, I knew you were lying to me,” he said with an accusatory tone.

Dieter opened his mouth to speak as Marc continued to hold him back. I stepped forward, placing my hand on his shoulder, silencing him and causing his attention to focus on me.

I met Alec’s glare, “I told you there was nothing going on between us. Why can’t you just accept the fact that you’re the one who fucked up?”

Alec smirked, “Was? There was nothing…but there is now? Right?”

When I didn’t answer, he nodded then scoffed out a laugh. “You may not have acted on it, but you were attracted to him. You were thinking about it. You were all too happy to get rid of me the first chance you got.”

I could feel the anger flaring in my chest, feeling defiant against his accusations. “The moment that I walked in on you fucking Lana was the moment you lost the right to know anything about me. It’s none of your damn business. I told you I didn’t do anything, and I know I didn’t do anything wrong. That’s all that matters to me. You can spout off whatever bullshit about us that you want, I don’t care anymore. Everyone knows you’re the one who cheated anyway. You can thank the paparazzi for that.”

I could see in Alec’s eyes the exact moment he realized he didn’t have control over me anymore. This whole encounter had been a serious wakeup call and blow to his ego. He was scared of Dieter and now he was scared of me. I knew the real him and I was no longer afraid to expose him for what he was - an abusive narcissist. The perfect public image that he had worked so hard to cultivate and maintain was crumbling around him, and he was the cause of it.

Alec turned to leave, but Dieter’s voice stopped him. “If you ever lay another hand on her, I will fucking end you. You hear me?”

Alec smirked as he turned to face Dieter, putting on that cocky persona that he used as a defense mechanism, “Are you threatening me, Bravo?”

Dieter let out a menacing chuckle, “No, it’s a promise. I’m not fucking around with you anymore.”

Alec’s smile faltered. He had been expecting Dieter to backtrack on that statement. He nodded, pursing his lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He wiped at his bloody face as he turned to leave.

Once Alec was out of sight, Marc finally released Dieter. Dieter’s hands immediately reached toward me to survey the damage. I winced as his fingertips gently grazed my neck, “Kat, you need to call the police and report this.”

I pulled his hand away, shaking my head gingerly. “No. If I do that, it’ll be all over the gossip sites and news tomorrow morning. That stuff is public record. I can’t handle that right now.”

Dieter huffed in exasperation, “What if he does this again? This is the second time I’ve witnessed it, and this time was way worse.”

Marc stepped forward, “I agree with Dieter. I’ll be happy to give a statement…Alec was out of line.”

I shook my head again, “No. Dieter, I…” I paused, not knowing what to say. I knew he wasn’t going to be concerned about himself. “Dieter, I don’t want you to get into trouble. He may retaliate by pressing charges against you or something…it’ll turn into a whole thing. I’m not gonna let him ruin your reputation when you’ve been working so hard to fix it.”

I could tell Dieter was getting frustrated as he ran his hands down his face, “I don’t care about that. I was protecting you… this is on him.”

I sighed, “I know you were, and I’m thankful you came to me…but that won’t matter. The headlines will be that you assaulted someone. That’s all people will see.”

I grabbed his hands as I peered up at him, “He’s not gonna do it again. You scared the hell out of him tonight. I could see it. Also, there are two witnesses besides us. He’s fucked and he knows it. Let’s just…deal with it my way? Ok? Please.”

For the first time, my attention shifted to Stefanie as she moved to close the door.

“Sorry, there’s a bit of a crowd forming out there. Everyone must finally be making their way down here from the ballroom.”

Now that I had a moment to think, I didn’t know why Marc and Stefanie were here.

“Dieter, how did you know he was in here?” I asked.

Stefanie meekly raised her hand, “I told him. I saw Alec as you were closing the door. He seemed…off. Marc felt like we needed to get Dieter, so we did.”

“Why did you feel like you needed to get Dieter?” I asked Marc.

He shrugged, thinking through his next words before he spoke. “You two seem…close. I figured he would know if it was something to be worried about or not.”

Close? Fuck. Were we really that obvious? I puffed air out of my cheeks before walking over to Stefanie and pulling her into a hug, “Thank you for noticing something wasn’t right. I don’t know how that would have gone otherwise.”

I turned to Marc, thanking him as well before asking. “If you guys don’t mind, please keep the details of this between us for now?”

They both nodded. “Out of everyone on the cast, we’re probably the only ones you can trust. We won’t say anything.” Marc replied.

“What if Stacia and Joe ask us about it?” Stefanie questioned.

I sighed, “If they do, tell them what you saw…and I’ll handle the rest.”

I glanced over at Dieter as he sank down into a chair, placing his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. I could tell he wasn’t handling this well. I looked back to Stefanie and Marc, “Would you guys mind giving us some privacy?”

They both looked in Dieter’s direction with a sympathetic expression before nodding and moving to exit. Before I closed the door behind them, Marc turned to me. “Kat…let us know if you guys need anything, yeah? Doesn’t matter what it is.”

I nodded, “I will, thank you.”

After closing and locking the door, I moved to stand in front of Dieter. I had to nearly pry his hands from his face, but even then he still wouldn't look at me. I crowded his space, forcing him to lean back in the seat as I hiked my dress up to straddle him. He was still avoiding my eyes as I reached for him, cupping his cheeks to angle his head upward so I could look at him. His eyes were pooling with tears as his jaw flexed under my hands. He looked broken. It was almost enough to shatter the facade I was trying so hard to maintain for his sake.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” I finally asked.

He shook his head, pulling my hands from his cheeks.

“Dieter, don’t push me out. Please.”

He took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at me. “I…just…I thought something bad happened. I was scared that you were hurt…and I couldn’t get to you. Then I…just sort of lost it when I saw what he was doing to you. I’m sorry. I’ve never…I’m not like that. I don’t want you to think I’m like that. I’m not a violent person…”

The more he spoke, the more distressed he seemed. My hands found their way back to his cheeks as I tried to sooth him, “Hey, it’s ok. I know you’re not like that. You were protecting me. I would’ve done the same for you.”

That seemed to help him relax some as he leaned into my touch. His arms slid around my waist, pulling me closer, “I’m sorry, just ignore me. I think what happened is starting to hit me…are you really OK? Do you need to go to get checked out? I can take you if…”

My hands slid down to rest on the sides of his neck as my thumbs rubbed against his scruffy jawline, “No, I’m fine. I promise. You got to me before he did any real damage.”

He leaned back some for a better view as his hand reached to push the hair away from my neck. His brow furrowed. I could see his eyes flash with anger and pain.

“You’re probably gonna have bruises.”

I shrugged and sighed, “Not the first time…”

His lips set into a tight line before he pulled me in for a firm embrace, nuzzling his scratchy beard against the exposed skin on my chest. I hugged him against me, aching to run my fingers through his hair, but the copious amounts of hair gel made that impossible. I settled for rubbing just below his hairline on the back of his neck instead.

He seemed vulnerable, but I didn’t really understand why. I needed him to understand that I didn’t think he did anything wrong. I leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of his head, “Thank you…for looking out for me. I’m not sure I’d have the strength to get him out of my life without you.”

He shifted so that he could look up at me with a sad smile, “Thank you for letting me.”

A lump formed in my throat as I returned his smile, then leaned down to capture his lips with mine. It was a languid kiss, full of emotion and need, yet somehow not sexual at all. It was comforting and everything we both needed to ground ourselves after the ordeal we had just gone through.

We were distracted by a knock on the door. It was one of the assistants from the costume department. “Kat, we still need your costume,” she called through the door, clearly unaware of the drama that had just unfolded.

I huffed as Dieter’s hands rubbed up and down my sides, “Yeah, give me a few minutes.” I called back.

My eyes focused on him, “You better go get changed too. They’ll be after you next.”

He rolled his eyes, lifting me with him as he stood.

“Lock the door behind me, please. I’ll be back after I’m done.”

I nodded and did as he asked, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves as I turned the lock. It was taking everything in me not to fall apart. The urge to burst into tears had been steadily growing since Alec left the room, but I had somehow managed to ward them off. I couldn’t fall apart here. I needed to wait until I got home. I wanted nothing more than to go home with Dieter and let him soothe all the bad feelings away, but I knew I needed to spend some time alone to process what happened. I needed time to myself to feel it and work through it. I didn’t want Dieter to see me like that. I worried it would be too much for him.

I moved around the room, almost on autopilot, changing out of my costume and putting it into the garment bag. Just as I was pulling my shirt over my head, Dieter was back, knocking at the door. I grabbed the garment bag as I went to unlock the door for him, hanging it on the hook just outside for pickup before turning to grab my things so we could leave.

“Did you still wanna grab some dinner? Maybe we get something to go?” he asked.

I sighed, “I think I’m actually just gonna go home.”

I could see the panic in his eyes. He thought I didn’t want to be around him. I looped my hand around his bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze as we walked toward the exit to the parking lot. “I feel like doing a cleansing. I actually wanna go home and pack up all Alec’s shit so I can be done with him, for good. Especially after tonight. It’s something I need to do.”

He nodded, seeming to understand, but he still looked like a wounded puppy.

“How about we do dinner at your place tomorrow after rehearsal?” I asked. We hadn’t really gotten to spend any quality time together since coming back from New York. I wanted to, just not tonight.

He seemed to perk up a bit and chuckled, “Are you volunteering me to cook for you?”

I shrugged, “I mean…I would never turn down one of your homemade meals, but I would settle for takeout if you didn’t feel like it. I really just wanna spend some non-dance time with you and see Zee again too, of course.”

That elicited a big smile from him as he held the door open for me. “I won’t argue with that,” he finally said.

When we reached my vehicle, he opened the door, standing with it between us.

“Lemme know when you get home, please?”

I nodded, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but I knew eyes could be anywhere.

“And call me if you need anything. I don’t care what or when…I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I chuckled, “It would take at least thirty.”

He shook his head and laughed, “Nope, fifteen.”

I rolled my eyes as I sat down in the driver’s seat, “I’ll see you at the production meeting in the morning. Go get some rest. I expect there’ll be a full interrogation.”

He huffed in annoyance as he reached down to hit the lock button on the door, then smiled, pushing the door shut as he said “Good night, Kit Kat.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

I suddenly felt torn. Maybe we did need to be together tonight. I shook the thought away as I moved to start the car, deciding to continue on with my plan.

When I got home, I sent Dieter a quick text to let him know I was locked in. I settled on heating up a can of soup for dinner, given that my throat was not feeling the greatest. I actually found the warmth from it to be somewhat soothing as I took a quick inventory of how much of Alec’s stuff was actually at my place and hoped that the stash of Amazon boxes that I hadn’t put out for trash pickup would be enough to pack it all.

I worked in anger for hours, going through the house shoving things in boxes without any organization or order, muttering that he should consider himself lucky that I wasn’t just throwing it all out on the lawn and burning it like I wanted to. I couldn’t understand how it had come to this. I knew he had a darker side, but I never could have imagined that he would take it this far. I was almost certain that if we had been anywhere else that he couldn’t have been interrupted, he might not have stopped. The dead-eyed stare as his fingers tightened around my throat scared the hell out of me. His intent was to hurt me. There was no question about it.

As I was rummaging around behind the clothes hanging in my closet, I bumped against my guitar case that was hidden behind everything. It fell over with a thud, causing a low thrumming of the strings, which was muted by the case. The sight of the instrument instantly had my stomach in knots. I hadn’t taken it out of the case since Alec and I first started dating six years ago. He had only seen me play it twice and that was all it took for me to never play in front of him again. His critical commentary made me feel inadequate under his gaze. It made me self-conscious and took the fun out of something that was once my refuge. Which was sort of ridiculous because Alec didn’t know the first thing about playing or music. He always had terrible taste. I really think what it came down to is that it was something that could take attention away from him. That probably should have been my first hint that he was not for me.

After taking a few deep breaths, I laid the case flat on the floor and opened it. The vintage Gibson Hummingbird looked exactly as it had last time I laid eyes on it. Untouched by time and dust. I reached out, running my fingertips over the glossy black mahogany edges and classic light wood tone sunburst along the lower bout. The memory of the day my father gave it to me came rushing back. He had found it dirt cheap at a yard sale of all places and was beyond excited to give it to me. The memories of the times we played together seemed so long ago, but they were just as vivid as if it were yesterday. Then there was the memory of playing with Dieter at his house. I realized it had felt the same playing with him, freeing almost.

My fingers trailed up to the hummingbird motif engraved into the pickguard. It was my favorite part because it reminded me of my mom. Hummingbirds were always her favorite and I loved having a little piece of her with me after she died. I reached to pick it up, watching the mother of pearl inlay on the fingerboard reflect in the light as I twisted it to set in my lap. My fingers strummed along the strings and moved along the frets, getting reacquainted with my old friend.

Without even realizing, I began to strum out the chords of the song Dieter and I had sung together that night at his house, Scars on this Guitar. It felt fitting as I began to hum along. A calmness washed over me as I played. It was like I had found myself again. It was almost overwhelming as the tears suddenly flooded out of my eyes without warning. They weren’t sad tears. It was more from relief than anything.

I was soon distracted by my phone chiming with a text message. After wiping my face, I dug it out of the pocket of my sweatpants to find a text from Dieter.

Dieter: I’m totally going to be a needy bitch and ask if I can call you before I fall asleep? Please. 🥺

I chuckled, loving the fact that he didn’t take himself seriously and always said whatever he was feeling.

Me: Of course you can. And I like it when you’re a needy bitch. 😏

I knew what he was doing. He wanted to check on me and I couldn’t even be upset about it.

Moments later, my phone rang with an incoming FaceTime call. I huffed out a quiet “fuck” before wiping at my face some more. I hadn’t realized this would be a video call. I hoped he couldn’t tell that I had been crying. When I answered, I was met with flashes of light and fur. I could hear Dieter muttering, “What the fuck, Zee?” I couldn’t help laughing as the video shifted around to finally show most of his face. His chin and neck were covered by cat fur. He looked annoyed, “Heey honey, sorry. Zee decided she wanted to jump on my face just as soon as I hit the call button.”

I felt a rush of heat go through me at his words. I know I give him hell over the pet names, but now that I didn’t have Alec to worry about, I actually loved hearing him call me those things.

I laughed, watching as he held the phone further away so I could see Zee lying sprawled out and wallowing on her back on top of his bare chest. She was rubbing her face against the scruff of his chin. It was the cutest and hottest thing I’d ever seen.

I snickered, “It’s ok Zee, I get it. I like to rub against his face too.”

Dieter snorted as he angled the phone back toward his face, “Well that wasn’t how I expected this conversation to start.”

I laughed, holding the phone further away at a lower angle, hoping he couldn’t see my red eyes.

He suddenly turned a little more serious as he stared into the camera, “I just wanted to check in, make sure you were doing ok…after everything today.”

I cleared my throat, “Yeah…I’m good. Just finished packing up his shit…so I feel a lot better now. I’ll text his brother to come get it off the porch tomorrow, so I don’t have to deal with him.”

Dieter pursed his lips. I could tell he wanted to say something but was holding back.

“What is it?” I asked.

He sighed, “Are you sure you don’t wanna go to the police?”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah…I’m sure. I really don’t think he’s gonna try anything again. I’m pretty sure he’s terrified of getting his ass kicked now.”

Dieter chuckled, “Who said anything about an ass kicking? I’ll make him disappear if it happens again.”

I smiled, “I’ll help you hide the body.”

He laughed loudly, causing Zee to reach up and cover his mouth with her paw. He grabbed it, placing a small kiss on her little toe beans before murmuring a quiet, “Sorry, baby girl” into the fur on the top of her head. I really could have melted over how sweet he was with her.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he looked off in the distance. His eyes eventually turned back to the camera. He seemed nervous.

“I feel like I need to apologize for how I acted. I lost control and let my emotions take over. I really don’t want you to think that’s normal behavior for me, because it’s not. I-I don’t do shit like that. Ever.”

I could tell this was getting to him. The pain and desperation breaking through in his voice caused my eyes to prickle with tears again. I hated seeing him upset.

“Dieter, it’s ok. I know you’re not like him…if that’s what you’re worried about. I know you would never do that to me.”

He appeared to relax some, but still seemed on edge. I suddenly felt selfish. I should have gone home with him tonight. He would never admit it, but it felt like this went deeper than what happened with Alec. I couldn’t help wondering if today’s events were causing something from his past to come to the surface. I wanted to ask, but that didn’t seem like a conversation to have over the phone. I suddenly felt the need to reassure him.

We were quiet for a beat, but I finally broke the silence, “I can’t wait to spend some time with you tomorrow. I’m sort of kicking myself for not coming over tonight.”

He gave me a soft smile, “The night’s not over…and my bed is always open…though you may have to fight Zee for a spot.”

I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, seriously considering his offer. “What time is it?”

His head leaned up slightly, I assume to check the time, “A little after ten.”

Huffing out a sigh, I replied, “I better not. It’s already late and we have to be at the studio early.”

His eyes told me he disappointed, but he still smiled into the camera, “You want to though.”

I groaned out a whiney “yeeees”, shifting to uncross my legs from where I still sat on the floor of my closet and sliding the guitar to the floor causing a slight hum from the strings.

Dieter chuckled as a confused look formed on his face, “Where are you?”

I laughed, “Sitting on my closet floor…I…” I paused, wondering if I should tell him what I had been doing. His brows arched, waiting for me to continue. “I uhh, came across my guitar while I was looking for all Alec’s junk to pack up. I-I took it out of the case for the first time in years…”

I looked away from the phone as I felt my eyes prickling again. Fuck. Why is this making me emotional?

“Is that why you’ve been crying?” Dieter asked.

My eyes darted back to the phone, “You could tell? And you didn’t say anything?”

He shrugged, “I know you’re dealing with stuff. I don’t expect you to tell me and I don’t wanna pry. I know you’ll talk when you’re ready.”

I had to appreciate his patience with me. I never would have guessed that would be something he would so willingly give without me asking.

I smiled, “Yes, that’s why I was crying. Honestly, playing with you a few weeks ago made me realize how much I missed it…and playing just now was such a fucking relief. I sort of feel like I found one of my missing pieces…ya know what I mean?”

Dieter’s brows furrowed as his lips set into a tight line. He had a strange look in his eyes as he cleared his throat, “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

I suddenly had butterflies in my stomach, feeling like his words had a deeper meaning that I couldn’t quite figure out.

He rubbed at his face, “Well, we should probably get to bed. The sooner we fall asleep, the sooner I can be with you tomorrow.”

I laughed, “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He gave me a small smile, “Night, Kit Kat.”

We both lingered in silence for a few seconds longer than necessary before disconnecting the call. My feelings for him were growing. There was no denying it. It scared me a little as I reminded myself that it was like this with Alec once. I didn’t see his red flags in the beginning. What if I was missing them with Dieter? I had to shake that thought away. It was ridiculous. I was just psyching myself out. Dieter had already proven ten times over that he was a good person and that he cared about me.

After pulling myself up out of the floor and giving a full body stretch to loosen up my stiff and aching joints, I got ready for bed and settled into a restless sleep.

Dieter and I both arrived at Television City Studios earlier than necessary. He was already in the lobby waiting with coffee when I walked in. He didn’t have to say why he was so early because I knew it was the same reason I was there early, I wanted to see him.

He stood when I approached, his gaze immediately focusing on my neck as he reached to brush my hair away from it. His questioning eyes shifted to mine as his thumb grazed down the side of my throat.

“I’m ok. It’s not that bad. I was able to cover it with makeup,” I said in response.

He sighed heavily. I could see the anger flashing in his eyes as he pulled away to rub at the back of his neck when an intern walked by. My eyes were drawn to his hand. I could see slight bruising around the knuckles, but it didn’t seem too bad. Not as bad as last time anyway.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt,” I said.

He glanced at his knuckles, “It’s nothing…not even sore. Should’ve hit him harder.”

“Keep that out of sight while we’re meeting with them. If they ask…as far as they’re concerned, I hit him. You only pushed him off, got it?”

He huffed, then shook his head, “You don’t have to lie for me…”

I shrugged, “It’s not a lie. I did hit him.”

Dieter’s brows knitted together, “You did?”

I nodded, “Yeah, how do you think I got the door unlocked? I elbowed him in the face.”

He smiled, suddenly looking proud. “I don’t condone violence, but I’m kind of happy you did that. He deserved it.”

We moved to sit in the chairs next to each other, trying our best to keep our hands to ourselves as we waited. It wasn’t long before a PA came to get us for the meeting. When we entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe were waiting. They both had a stony expression on their faces and only nodded in greeting. Fuck. They know.

After we got situated in our seats, I felt Dieter’s leg rest against mine under the table. He could sense the tension too.

Joe crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat as Stacia eyed us with pursed lips. She seemed to be weighing how to start this conversation.

“So, it looks like things went well in New York. Did you two have a good time?”

Small talk. Really? Dieter and I glanced at each other with confusion. “Yeah, I mean it was busy as fuck, but we had fun,” Dieter answered.

“The footage you took was great by the way…and so were your social media posts. The fans ate it up,” Joe said.

“Did you guys take the time to do anything fun? I saw the open mic night video…” Stacia interjected.

There it is. Dieter gave a tight smile as he looked between them, “Not really. We stayed pretty busy with rehearsals for this and SNL. We barely had time to eat and sleep.”

Stacia gave us a disbelieving look, “But you did open mic night?”

Dieter shrugged, “The SNL cast invited us out for dinner that night. We sort of got roped into it.”

Stacia pursed her lips and nodded before asking, “Where did you rehearse? The hotel said you didn’t use the rented space.”

Dieter and I both grimaced before he answered, “Yeah, sorry. There was a large outdoor terrace with our suite. We just used that. It was more convenient with our crazy hours.”

She gave a tight smile in return, “Well, I’m happy the suite worked out so well for you two then.”

She sighed, the vibe shifting as she leaned back into her seat and rubbed at her temples, “Kat, we need to talk about what happened last night with Alec…I wanna hear your side of it before we do anything.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “What did he say happened?”

She shook her head, “No. I want you to tell me your version of what happened first.” My version. So that’s how this is gonna go. Great.

I took a controlled breath, the last thing I needed to do was lose it on them.

“After the show, I went to my dressing room. He was there waiting for me. When I walked in, he grabbed me from behind, shoved me up against the wall, mouthed off for a minute, then started choking me. By that point, Marc and Stefanie had gone to get Dieter. He was trying to get in, but Alec had locked the door. I managed to elbow Alec in the face and he let go long enough for me to unlock it. Dieter came in and pulled him off me.”

Her eyes shifted between me and Dieter, “So, Dieter didn’t attack him?”

I shrugged, “He pushed Alec away from me and then Alec fell to the floor.”

She was quiet for a beat, studying us. “Alec says that Dieter found you two alone…talking, and then attacked him.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. Anything to make himself look better. Then it occurred to me, maybe he didn’t realize how much Marc and Stefanie had actually seen. He only saw Marc pulling Dieter off of him. What a fucking dumbass.

“Well, that’s a lie. Dieter was protecting me. Alec attacked me.”

Stacia’s eyes narrowed as they shifted between us, “I need for you to tell me what’s going on between the three of you so we can figure out how to move forward. Did you cheat on him with Dieter? What’s the deal? Why’s he mad enough to attack you? Make it make sense.”

Bitch. She’s one hundred percent fishing for information. I felt Dieter nudge my leg under the table. I pressed mine against his as I leaned forward.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but no, I didn’t cheat on him. He cheated on me. With Lana. He's pissed because I’ve run out of chances to give and I’m standing up for myself. I’m done and he can’t accept it. He’s trying to make us out to be the bad guys…to make himself feel better and it’s not working in his favor because we haven’t done anything wrong.”

I could see Stacia’s jaw clench as she digested my explanation. I purposefully didn’t address mine and Dieter’s current relationship status. I could tell that she was trying to work out how to get that question answered without asking again. Joe sighed heavily beside her and shook his head as he leaned forward to speak.

“Look, I pulled the security footage. Where the camera is in the hallway…I couldn’t see everything. I could see that he went to your dressing room and waited for you, and I could see how Marc and Stefanie reacted after you went inside and how Dieter was reacting after they went and got him. Their story matches yours, so I’m inclined to believe that Alec is lying. That’s grounds to remove him from the cast…”

I interrupted him, “No. Don’t. Let him stay.”

I could feel Dieter’s shocked eyes on me as I continued, “When we win, I want it to be because we beat him, not because he got kicked off. All that I ask is that you have security nearby when we’re all here. Make it known to him that you know what happened and the only reason he’s still here is because of my grace and because I wanna crush his fucking ego by winning the competition with Dieter.”

Joe moved to speak but I cut him off by holding up my hand, “I’m not done. My other request is that you both stop your fucking meddling. This is partially your fault too. You were trying your hardest to manufacturer drama for this season and you fucking got it. You wanted your cast romance, now you got that with Alec and Lana…so leave us alone.”

Stacia suddenly looked hurt by my words as she spoke up, “Kat, we had no idea this would happen, we couldn’t have. You can’t blame us for this.”

I scoffed, “No, but you hoped something…would happen.”

She sighed, “Look, I knew Alec was sort of an asshole, but I never would have thought he would attack you. You didn’t deserve it…and I am sorry if we created the conditions for it. It wasn’t the intention.”

Her apology almost seemed genuine, until she opened her mouth again.

“You and Dieter are the fan favorites right now. Our ratings are up because people wanna see you two together…and you guys have become close friends. I can’t apologize for our decision to partner you up or for our focus on you. I still think it was the right thing to do, and I stand by that.”

“Oh no, I’m happy you put Dieter and I together. It's the intentions behind your choices that are the problem…just so we’re clear.”

Stacia and I locked eyes. I could tell she wanted to say more, but she was cut off by Joe, who seemed to be handling this more sensibly.

“Well, given that you don’t want us to let Alec go, I do think we need to make some changes. During the professional performances, if you need to partner up, you’ll be working with Marc from now on. He didn’t like working with Anika anyway. And maybe we split the professionals up into two troupes so we can keep you guys apart as much as possible. I’m sure Emily can make that work with the choreography somehow.”

Joe rattled on about some other precautions he wanted to put into place for a bit longer, then they finally let that topic drop and got back to business. Stacia pulled out the sketches for this week’s costumes. They had me in a short lacy black dress with a low back and long sleeves. It left little to the imagination, but I was used to that. So, I gave a quick nod of approval. They had Dieter in simple black pants and a black long sleeve button up dress shirt.

Stacia seemed a little more reserved than normal as she went over the details. Our earlier conversation had obviously struck some sort of nerve with her.

“This week we have you two doing the Argentine Tango to the song You Put A Spell On Me.”

Joe smiled smugly, “That should be an interesting one. Can’t wait to see what you two come up with.”

Based on his reaction to it, I assumed this wasn’t the same song that I was familiar with. He seemed too giddy about it. I glanced over at Dieter. His brows were slightly furrowed. He seemed just as intrigued as I was. We were done soon after that, not wanting to hang around any longer than we had to.

After grabbing a quick lunch at the small Greek diner at Dieter’s suggestion, we made our way to the dance studio to begin rehearsals for the week. We started like we always did, by cueing up our song. Both of us sat sprawled out on the floor as the sultry notes greeted us. I suddenly felt hot as my skin prickled from the music. It was beyond sexy and had my mind racing with ideas that were not meant for a public performance.

Dieter and I sat listening, wide-eyed as we fully took in the lyrics. Once the song ended, his brows pinched together as he pursed his lips. I could already tell he had some sort of sarcastic comment brewing.

“So…,” he finally said with a look of confusion, “Do they just want us to have sex on the dance floor? Because I feel like they want us to have sex on the dance floor. They’re just asking for it at this point…Which is not very family friendly of them...”

I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong. It was a very sexual song.

“How spicy are we allowed to be? I feel like we should push the limits of what’s acceptable just to be obnoxious and because they won’t expect it,” he added.

Honestly, the thought of it was sort of thrilling. I had never taken that route with a performance on the show before. Doing it with Dieter made it seem even more tantalizing because I knew it would piss Alec off and get people’s attention.

“Well…there have been some pretty racy performances in the past, so it’s not out of the question.”

Dieter giggled, “Let’s just see how many different ways we can act out the lyrics.”

I snorted, “Act out the lyrics? Really? You want me to undress you on the dance floor?”

He scratched at his scruff as he smirked, “Why not? You are a pro at getting me naked.”

I felt heat creeping up my cheeks as I gave him an admonishing look, which caused him to let out one of his boisterous laughs.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him as he moved to stand. He then framed his arms up and began stomping back and forth dramatically in a stereotypical tango style dance, “Come on Kit Kat, let's get to it. Time to get nasty.”

I couldn’t help laughing at him. His playfulness always got to me. I loved that he now showed me this side of himself. Thinking back to our first week together, he never would have acted like this. He had opened up so much since then. I could feel my heart do a little flutter at the thought as I stood to join him.

I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward me so he would stop the ridiculous stomping thing he was doing. “First of all…this is an Argentine Tango, not an International Tango…or whatever it is you think you’re doing….”

He dropped his head and snorted out a laugh as I gave him a teasing smile.

“It’s not as stiff…doesn’t have the quick and decisive movements that most people associate with the tango. The hold is different, allowing for more freedom of expression so that the dance can be anything from slow and sensual to fast and strong. We’ll need to include intertwining leg combos and dynamic lifts. The judges will be looking for those.”

He was in full student mode now, listening intently and nodding along. I smiled, deciding to throw him a curve ball, suggestively running my fingers down his chest as I spoke.

“The best description I’ve ever heard that explains the difference in the two dances is that the International Tango is for dancing with your wife and the Argentine Tango is for dancing with your lover.”

He nodded as a wide smile spread across his face, “I’m pretty sure I can handle it given that we’ve nailed the horizontal tango already...”

I closed my eyes, biting my bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “I can’t win with you…” I finally managed to huff out. He gave me a smug smile and shrugged.

I continued on, still fighting a smile, “Anyway, let’s start with the hold then we can go through some gancho and staccato leg combos. I think that’ll probably be the hardest part for you to get. Then we’ll go from there.”

Once Dieter got the basics down, we began to build our routine. Both of us laughing and having more fun than we usually did. It seemed that our evolving relationship off the dance floor was changing the dynamic on it as well. The communication between us came easily now. So much of it being non-verbal. We just got each other. It was a true partnership full of trust and friendship on top of everything else that our relationship fostered. It almost seemed too perfect.

Dieter was flowing with ideas and more involved with planning the choreography than any of my past partners had ever been. I loved seeing his face light up when he had an idea and his excitement when he shared it. It made the process so much more enjoyable and made me feel closer to him somehow. His openness felt like a testament to his trust in me which I knew was a big deal for him.

We managed to plan out the majority of the routine before our studio time was up. We left feeling good about where we were. As provocative as the routine was, we did somehow manage to behave ourselves and keep it professional. That didn’t stop the heated glances from passing between us or the occasional lingering touches though.

By the time I was in the car and following Dieter to his house, I was feeling fairly worked up. The anticipation of having some alone time with him had butterflies forming in my stomach and wetness between my thighs. I couldn’t help wondering how the evening would go as we pulled into his driveway.

He wasted no time pulling me in for a passionate kiss after I stepped out of the car - one hand on my cheek as the other wrapped around my waist and pulled me against him.

He broke away with a relieved sigh and smiled, “I’ve been dying to do that all day.”

I chuckled at his enthusiasm as he turned and pulled me toward the door, never releasing his hold around my waist as he keyed into the house. The moment the door opened, we were greeted by Zee. Only then did he let go of me to bend down and pick her up.

Zee nuzzled her face against his beard as he cradled her to his chest, murmuring a quiet, “Hey baby girl, I’ve missed you today” into her fur as she began to purr. It made my heart melt to watch him with her. I never would have guessed that Dieter Bravo was capable of being this tender and sweet before getting to know him.

After snuggling her for a beat, he turned to me with a dimpled smile as he approached. Zee was now lazily leaning her head in my direction, letting out a soft meow as she gave me a slow blink. I didn’t hesitate to reach and scratch behind her ears. She stretched out on her back in his arms, reaching to place her paw on my face.

Dieter chuckled and stepped closer so she could rub her face against my chin as my hand stroked the long silky fur on her chest. There wasn’t a mat in sight. I smiled, “Looks like somebody is taking their cat grooming responsibilities seriously.”

Dieter's cheeks flushed as he shrugged, “Yeah…she likes it…and I’ve read it’s a good bonding activity. So, I don’t deny her when she wants her hair brushed.”

I snickered, “She’s got you wrapped around her little paw.”

He sighed slowly pulling Zee away and setting her down, “Yeah, it seems I’m a sucker when it comes to my two favorite ladies…Come on. I’ll get dinner started.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen, “Hopefully Cora remembered to put the chicken in the marinade before she left. If not, we may have a problem.”

My brows knitted together, “Who’s Cora?”

He smiled, “She’s my housekeeper…a little spitfire of a lady. I think you’ll love her. I need to introduce you.”

I nodded, noticing the affectionate smile on his face as he talked about Cora. It made me curious about her, but I didn’t question him further.

I watched him rummage through the refrigerator before pulling out ingredients, including the marinated chicken. He got to work, refusing to let me help. When I tried, he leaned down and lifted me by my thighs and planted me on top of the island. After a quick peck on the lips, he told me not to move. My only job was to “watch the master at work.”

Zee soon joined me on the island, swishing her tail as she paced back and forth, attempting to lay eyes on what her dad was cooking. She shocked me by jumping across the distance between the island and Dieter’s back, landing on his shoulder with a loud meow as he laid out the chicken in a baking dish. He didn’t even flinch.

I snickered, “Based on your lack of a reaction, I take it this isn’t the first time she’s done that.”

He laughed and shook his head, “Nope. She’s a nosey little shit and thinks any sort of protein is for her. Especially chicken.”

Zee watched intently over his shoulder as he worked. She stayed perched there as he moved to the sink to wash his hands. Afterwards, he leaned down, allowing her to jump down onto the counter so he could put the chicken in the oven.

He turned toward me, moving to stand between my thighs as he rested his palms on the counter at my hips. His nose nudged against mine as he asked in a low voice that gave me goosebumps, “Would you rather have garlic and herb roasted potatoes or rice and cooked vegetables with your Greek Lemon Chicken?”

I smiled against his lips, “You’re making me Greek Lemon Chicken?”

He nodded, “I am…What can I say? I love spoiling my girls.”

My stomach felt topsy-turvy at his words. Hearing him say the word love in relation to me in any way had me feeling some kind of way. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt tingly all over, realizing that I might actually be falling for him…hard. I had to beat back the small wave of panic I suddenly felt.

He pulled away with a playful smile, “Hopefully it doesn’t taste like shit. I’ve never made it before.”

I laughed nervously as a new wave of emotions hit me once I realized he was learning to cook Greek food for me.

“You’re trying Greek recipes for me, are ya?” I asked teasingly in an attempt to distract myself.

He nodded, “I am. Just doing what I can to keep ya around…for Zee’s sake, of course. She needs a woman in her life.”

I smiled even though my mind was racing with the implications of what he was saying. Was he feeling this as deeply as I was?

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s all for her,” I finally said with a chuckle.

He shook his head, smiling as he leaned in for another soft kiss before adding, “You’re right. It’s not. I’m one hundred percent whipped by you both.”

He paused, huffing out a laugh as he threaded his fingers through my hair and briefly allowed his eyes to roam over my face. After inhaling deeply, he asked, “Now, what does my other girl want to eat with her chicken?”

I took a moment to get lost in his chocolate colored eyes, taking in the crinkles around the edges from the small smile on his lips. I loved it when his eyes crinkled like that. That’s how I knew his smile was genuine.

“I think I’ll take the rice and veggies.”

His hands moved to my hips, squeezing gently as he gave me a quick peck on the forehead. He pulled away with a smile, “As you wish…Now, watch the culinary king create a masterpiece for your tastebuds.”

He got to work, chopping the veggies. Zee came over to inspect, seeming intrigued by the spread, but ultimately decided it wasn’t for her and went to entertain herself with a fake mouse toy on the floor.

Even though Dieter was occupied with his cooking duties, that didn’t make him any less attentive toward me. Conversation flowed and he made sure to continue his light touches and shared the occasional kiss as he moved around the kitchen. It was strangely romantic and intimate in a new way for me. I could see myself spending every evening like this with him. The fact that my mind was even going there scared me, worried that I was getting in too deep too fast. I somehow managed to bury that thought in the back of my mind each time he looked at me with his soft eyes and boyish smile.

Once the chicken was done, Zee turned into a little terrorist determined to get her share. I lost track of the number of times Dieter had to shoo her away while it was cooling. I couldn’t help laughing as those two had a near standoff over the cooked poultry. Because of Zee’s insistence, Dieter suggested that we eat on the patio since it had been such a nice day. That way we wouldn't have to deal with her “bratty” behavior. I agreed with a chuckle.

To keep her distracted, he made her dinner. She ate quietly in the corner as we made our plates and gathered everything we needed to move to the patio. Dieter made sure to hide the chicken away in the oven before we finally sat down to eat.

The meal was amazing of course and I made sure to tell him as much. He acted smug over the complement, but that didn’t stop his cheeks from flushing a little. We were both relaxed, discussing the most random topics and getting to know each other just a little bit more. It was nice to be with him like this for a change - to hear his laughter and see him truly happy.

After eating, Dieter insisted that I go relax while he cleaned up. He refused to have any other outcome. So, I made my way over to one of the loungers next to the fire pit and settled in. Dieter joined me a few minutes later, switching on the fire pit before reclining in the lounger beside me. He made a pouty face as he stuck out his arms, motioning for me to come sit with him. I chuckled as I stood, moving to sit between his spread thighs as he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me against his chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, causing me to giggle from where his scruff tickled the sensitive skin.

We sat like that for a time, just listening to the waves of the ocean and enjoying being in each other's embrace. It felt so easy with him. Almost too easy, which was a little concerning if I dwelled on it. I pushed that thought away, twisting so that I could look up at him. He gave me a soft smile, his eyes crinkling as he looked down at me and reached to cup my cheek.

“I’ve missed being able to do this the last few days,” he finally said.

I smirked, closing the distance between us and sucking on his bottom lip. He deepened the kiss as I shifted in his arms, moving to straddle his hips as he set up straighter and pulled me against him. Just as I felt him growing hard under me, he pulled away, brushing the hair back out of my face as he peered up at me. His eyes danced around my face with a sort of serene expression.

“I don’t know that I’ve properly told you how fucking beautiful you are.”

I gave him a dismissive laugh as my cheeks burned under his palms. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine, “Stay with me tonight, please?”

His voice was almost pleading as he asked. Something about the way he sounded tugged at my heart a bit. I smiled against his lips as I dipped my hands under the hem of his shirt to explore his chest.

“I had already planned on it,” I replied before kissing him again. He didn’t deepen it. Instead, he pulled away and nuzzled his face into my chest as he hugged me just a little tighter, “Don’t get any ideas…I just wanna cuddle. No funny business.”

Something about his tone told me he wasn’t trying to be funny. He sounded serious, but I wasn’t sure. I scoffed jokingly, “How presumptuous of you.”

He was quiet for a beat, breathing me in. He finally pulled away with a smirk, “I’m just teasing. I do mean it though, I don’t wanna do anything tonight. I just wanna be with you.”

I gave him a confused look. Can’t say I’ve ever heard a guy say that before. He seemed unsure of himself suddenly, averting his gaze. I reached for his chin and tilted it toward me. “What’s this about?” I asked in a gentle tone. Something was obviously on his mind.

He sighed, “You’re probably gonna think I’m nuts…but…I don’t want this thing between us to just be about sex. I wanna spend time with you…get to know you…connect in other ways. You know what I mean? You’re too important to me for it to turn into that. I’m still learning how to do this relationship thing and I wanna do it right.”

I stared at him, a little dumbfounded and turned on by the fact that he didn’t want to have sex. What the hell is wrong with me?

He grimaced, “Please say something.”

I huffed out a laugh, “I…I’m trying really hard not to be turned on by this.”

He chuckled, “That wasn’t my goal, but I’ll take it as a positive response.”

I reached to run my fingers through his hair as I smiled over his smug look, “What planet did you come from?”

He laughed and shrugged, pulling me back against him, his ear to my chest as my fingers scratched at his scalp. He hummed at the feeling, leaning into me much like a needy puppy does when you scratch just the right spot.

Dieter was true to his word, not taking it any further even though I could tell parts of him wanted to. Instead, I ended up stretching out against him, cuddling as we watched the sunset and talked about the most random topics. There was lots of laughter, gentle kisses, and caresses throughout. It was refreshing. I couldn’t recall the last time Alec and I had spent time together like that, or if we ever really had. He was always so guarded about everything, which often left a lingering tension in the air between us. It never felt like that with Dieter. He had a way of making me feel at ease and content. He was always smiling and had such a playful and positive energy, it was hard not to match it.

As the hour grew late, we finally made our way inside. I watched as Dieter moved through the downstairs to lock up and turn everything off. His last step of his nightly routine was to give Zee a snack of boiled chicken. I watched as she jumped up on the island and patiently waited for him to pull it out of the refrigerator. The ‘Queen Zee’s Fucking Chicken’ label on the bowl caught my attention and made me snort in laughter as Dieter shredded small pieces and handed them over to her. When I asked what that was about, he shrugged and laughed, “Evan made that. Said something about her screaming at him over it. They’re both so dramatic, there’s no telling what actually went down.”

After he washed his hands, he walked over to stand in front of me, placing his hands on my hips as he pulled me against him with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You ready to go to bed?”

I quirked an eyebrow at him, feeling like he was up to something. “I need to run out to the car to get my bag.”

He pursed his lips, “Ehh, I’ll go get it for you in the morning.”

I smirked, “But what will I sleep in?”

He fought a smile, “You can raid my closet…or wear nothing. I’m not picky.”

I gave him an admonishing look, “I thought we were behaving?”

He shrugged as a wide grin formed on his face, “We are. Skin to skin cuddling for adults is a very healthy thing to do. It lowers cortisol levels and releases oxytocin. I fully support naked cuddling as a form of bonding.”

I chuckled, “You’re such a nerd, which is pleasantly surprising…and kind of a turn on…”

He laughed loudly, “Is there anything that isn’t a turn on for you today?”

I leaned in, smiling against his lips before answering, “Apparently not…”

After giving me a quick kiss, without warning, he leaned down and hoisted me over his shoulder like a fucking caveman. I squealed as he laughed maniacally and made his way up the stairs, grabbing a generous handful of my ass as he went. Once in his room, he sat me down, still laughing as I playfully pushed him away from me.

I turned to survey the room for the first time. It was the only room I hadn’t seen when he previously gave me a tour of his place. I wasn’t sure what I expected. It was similar to the rest of the house, clean with cream colored walls and bedding accented with deep earth tones. He had a few plants sitting around, my eyes automatically focusing in on the obnoxious penis cactus on one of his nightstands. I laughed and shook my head as I pointed at it, “Aren’t you worried about grabbing that thing by mistake when you’re half asleep?”

He chuckled, “No, I don’t usually put anything on that side of the bed…buuut since you’re here…I’ll move it…can’t have you gettin’ confused and grabbing the wrong erection.”

I cackled as I watched him move it from the nightstand to the dresser. I couldn’t help it. He had such a naughty sense of humor, and I loved it. Once he had it situated in just the right spot, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward one of the other doors, which opened up to a massive bathroom. I couldn’t help admiring the tub. It looked heavenly. He followed my line of sight and chuckled, “I told you I had a hydrotherapy tub.”

“Well, it would be less weird if I took advantage of that now…obviously.”

I could hear him snicker as he rummaged around in the linen closet, then pulled out a new toothbrush and handed it to me.

I gave him a deadpan stare, “You tryin’ to tell me something?”

He laughed, “No! I just know you’re routine and I have extras.”

He pulled the toothpaste out of a drawer, put a dab on his brush then stuck it in his mouth. He passed the tube to me once I got the toothbrush out of the packaging. I watched him dig around in another drawer and pull out a hairbrush. It sort of shocked me when he moved to stand at my back and began running it through my hair, completely neglecting the toothbrush that was hanging from his mouth. After sitting the hairbrush down, his fingers got to work, struggling a bit at first, but eventually working the strands into a simple braid. Once he got to the bottom, he reached for my wrist with his free hand and pulled the hair tie off it to twist around the end of the braid. I watched in the mirror as he stood back and rather smugly admired his handy work as he began to brush his teeth.

After spitting some of the toothpaste out, I turned to him, “Are you trying to ruin me for all other men, Bravo?

He smirked, “No, not intentionally…but is it working?”

“The jury is still out on that…”

Once we finished brushing our teeth, I followed him into his closet, which was just as ridiculous as his bathroom.

“Fucking hell, this is bigger than my bedroom,” I said as I looked around. “Why do you need such a big closet? It’s not even one third of the way full,” I asked with a disbelieving laugh.

He shrugged, “I don’t, it just came with the house.” He pursed his lips in thought and gave me an odd look before adding, “Room to grow I guess.”

I felt like he was insinuating something, but I wasn’t sure. Instead, I rolled my eyes as I walked over to the stacks of folded t-shirts on a shelf. I could feel his eyes on me as I flipped through them, smiling over some of the funnier ones. Keeping my back to him, I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I could hear his breath hitch as I reached back to unhook my bra and allowed it to fall to the floor. I then slid my leggings down, standing there in nothing but my black underwear as I plucked one of his t-shirts from the stack and put it on.

When I turned toward him, he was standing there staring at me with his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. I held my hands out with palms up, “Well, whatta ya think? Fits perfectly, no?”

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at me, hesitating before allowing his eyes to sweep down my body. He reached up and scratched at his chin, “Fucking is my cardio…really? That’s the one you went for?”

I laughed, looking down at the shirt, “I think maybe we need to update it…cross out ‘fucking’ and write in ‘dancing’ above it?”

He shook his head as he slowly walked toward me. His voice low, almost teasing, “Oh no, fucking is definitely still part of my cardio routine…though I don’t believe I’ve fucked you properly yet. I’ve taken a more…sensual approach so far…which I’ve found I actually kind of prefer.”

Our eyes were locked as he reached to cup my cheek, “Somehow you’ve managed to bring out that side of me for the first time ever…and I’m enjoying it more than I thought I could.”

His intense gaze, sultry tone, and sudden vulnerability had me involuntarily clenching my thighs together. The effect he had on my body was insane. I no longer had any control over it.

“Are you trying to test my limits right now? Because if you are, I’m very close to failing…”

He laughed as he leaned in to give me a chaste kiss, “Come on honey, let's get you in bed.”

I groaned in protest as he tugged me along behind him toward the bed. After pulling the covers back, he motioned for me to climb in, smacking my ass as I did so - which definitely didn’t do anything to help my current state of arousal. I settled in on my back as he stripped down to his boxer briefs, then turned off the light. After climbing into bed beside me, he tangled his legs with mine. His hand sought out the hem of his t-shirt that I was wearing, snaking up under it to rest around my middle after he pulled me closer to his chest. He nestled his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply then sighing in contentment.

Moments later, the foot of the bed dipped as Zee jumped up onto it. Dieter sucked air through his teeth, “Oooh shit. We may have a problem here…”

I chuckled, “Why’s that?”

“You’re in her spot…”

“Oh, that is problematic…”

Zee made her way up the bed, then sat beside me as her tail whipped back and forth. I could feel her eyes on us as she surveyed the current sleeping arrangements. She let out a loud meow as I reached to pet her, hoping to keep peace. I felt Dieter suck in a deep breath and hold it while he waited to see how she would respond. She was still as a statue until I found just the right spot behind her ear. She leaned into the scratches as her eyes drifted shut. She seemed satisfied with my offering, finally moving to snuggle into the crook of my arm opposite Dieter.

Dieter huffed out a relieved laugh against my neck, “That was nerve wracking. I thought she was about to battle it out with you.”

I snickered, “Honestly, I thought so too. Good thing I'm comfortable because it doesn't look like I’m moving anytime soon…”

I felt his rumbling laugh against my neck as he shifted, leaning up to give me a chaste kiss goodnight. It wasn’t long before he was asleep, his mouth opened slightly as he snored quietly. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, I could just make out his features from the moonlight streaming in through the windows. His face looked almost childlike as the creases between his brows relaxed and disappeared. His messy curls hung down over his face, adding to the effect. I found myself wondering what he looked like when he was little, wondering if his aquiline nose had the same pronounced curve or if it developed that way over time. He really was beautiful, even with his patchy beard that never seemed to fully grow and slightly graying hair.

I took some time reflecting on the last several days. Dieter had been so attentive toward me, making sure that I was taken care of and always checking in about my feelings. He had also shown me his vulnerable side several times. I couldn’t believe that he was open about his fears with SNL, admitting how nervous he was the night of the performance. That was something Alec never would have done out of fear that he would look weak. This didn’t make Dieter seem weak to me though. If anything, it showed me how emotionally mature he was and his willingness to be open with me. He really surprised me with that.

Then there were the moments in his dressing room before the show when it was just us, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Not being afraid to be ourselves out of fear of judgment. He was so unapologetically himself with me and I loved that about him. I loved that he trusted me enough to show his soft and goofy side. He appeared to be welcoming me into his life with open arms and holding nothing back.

I couldn’t help letting my mind wander to all of his past relationships, if that was even the right word. Maybe the term ‘hookups’ was more appropriate? I thought of that actress, Sophie, whatever her name was. A petite redhead with big breasts and a tiny waist. It was hard not to compare myself to her. We were completely different physically. Dieter had said that he wasn’t interested in her, but he had obviously been attracted to something about her at one point.

I wondered if maybe she was adventurous in bed, if that was the kind of thing he was into? I had never really been like that with anyone, which did worry me some. I couldn’t help thinking that he might eventually get bored with me because I clearly wasn’t like any of these people we had encountered that he had a history with. It didn’t mean that I couldn’t be that way though. There was something about him that made me want to try.

Dieter had a way of making me feel brazen. I could tell he liked it when I was like that, open about how my body reacted to him while teasing his. I enjoyed getting a rise out of him, which only emboldened me further. Maybe that’s all I really needed to hold his attention? To show him that he was wanted.

It wasn’t like it was hard for me to show how much I wanted him when he does the things that he does. Things like standing there on a nationally televised stage in his ridiculous ‘Plant Daddy’ t-shirt that I had bought for him that happened to fit just perfectly across his chest and snugly around his broad shoulders and sculpted arms as he asked me if I wanted to have sex with him. He was completely unconcerned that we were surrounded by dozens of people, mics, and cameras. Not to mention how he changed up that line in his monologue. He liked to push the limits too and he did it because he knew it got a rise out of me.

All of the teasing between us had turned into a mind-blowing evening once we got back to the hotel. He didn’t hesitate to let me take charge or to be open with me about his desires. There was no guessing with him, he was willing to show me what he liked while also allowing me to try my own thing without making me feel like I was doing something wrong. We worked together, exploring and learning each other's bodies and discovering new things about ourselves in the process.

Watching Dieter come undone beneath me felt empowering. It actually helped my confidence where it had been so brutally damaged by Alec, often making me feel like our less than satisfying sex life was my fault. Dieter helped me realize it wasn’t and allowed me to find that side of myself again. Seeing him writhing in pleasure because of me, watching his eyes dilate and blow wide as he took in my naked body, it unleashed something in me. Knowing that there was no way he could possibly fake the reaction his body was having to me as he gasped for air through clenched teeth and completely lost his senses should have been enough to calm the unsettling feeling that was suddenly creeping into my gut. It should have been enough to silence my doubts.

I reasoned with myself that any doubt I was having was because of Alec and the emotional damage he had caused. Dieter was not Alec. He was nothing like him. He made that perfectly clear when he found the vibrator then proceeded to use it as we had sex the following morning. He took his time, asking and learning how I liked it. Then blew my fucking mind. Again, showing me how attentive he was and making sure we both enjoyed the experience. Not at all selfish like Alec.

It wasn’t even really about the sex or the mind blowing orgasms he somehow managed to draw out of me. It went deeper than that. Through all of it, I could feel an emotional connection with him. It was strong enough that it made my heart feel like it was beating out of my chest. He was already bonding with me in ways that Alec never even tried to. If nothing else settled my doubts, then that should. He told me this meant something to him, and I knew he believed in what he said.

I also had to consider how protective Dieter had been, even before the dressing room incident. Going so far as to make sure my locks got changed so Alec couldn’t get into the house. He had also put himself between me and the paparazzi at the airport, essentially putting himself in the line of fire. He didn’t have to do any of that. It was obvious he cared about me, and I had no reason to doubt what we were building.

I now knew I was falling hard and fast for him, and it scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t help being worried about being hurt again, especially after what I had just gone through with Alec. I knew if something went wrong with Dieter, it was going to hurt ten times worse because things had been going so well between us. I knew I needed to stop thinking this way because I had no reason to. I was getting into my head about it. He cared about me and was putting in the work to prove it. That was enough.

As I glanced back down at his perfectly handsome face, my doubts vanished. He was here with me now, in his bed after asking me to stay. He’s allowing me into parts of his life no one else has been before. He wants me to be part of it.

Those were my last thoughts as I finally drifted off to sleep.

Dieter’s POV

On Wednesday morning I awoke to the feeling of Kat’s fingertips drawing circles on my bare skin. I could feel my heartbeat speed up under her touch, relishing in how amazing it felt to wake up to her wrapped around me in my bed. She was laying with her head against my chest and one leg hitched over mine. Zee had somehow managed to worm her way in between my spread legs and was sprawled out on her back, snoring softly.

I laid there unmoving as I took in the sight before me so that I could commit it to memory. I couldn’t remember ever waking up feeling as complete and happy as I did in that moment. It was something that I had longed for and didn’t even think possible. I felt like my life was finally beginning to turn into what I had always wanted. If this was going to be my new normal, I knew I could die a happy man.

Kat surprised me with a sleepy “good morning” as she continued to draw circles along my stomach.

I smiled, “How’d you know I was awake?”

She shifted, propping her chin on her hand to look at me with a smile, “You’re breathing changed…and I could hear your heart rate pick up.”

I chuckled as I reached to push away the loose strands of hair from her face. “I like waking up to you in my bed more than I realized I would,” I confessed.

She smiled as she leaned into my touch, “I liked waking up in your bed more than I realized I would, too.”

I sighed, “I can’t wait until we have a day off so we can stay here all day.”

“Hmmm that does sound amazing. Sign me up.”

I glanced over at the clock, realizing the alarm would be going off soon.

“Hows about I go make you a quick breakfast before you go to rehearsal?” I asked.

She groaned, “Ugh, I don’t wanna go. The whole cast is probably gonna be all weird and judgy now.”

My lips set into a tight line, “Is Alec supposed to be there?”

She shook her head, “No, I don’t think so. According to the schedule they sent over they have the two groups rehearsing at different times.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Doesn’t mean he won’t be lurking around though. Just please be careful. I still don’t trust that asshole.”

She smiled, “Don’t worry, Marc will be there. I’m sure he’ll keep an eye on me.”

I nodded, feigning a stern look, “He better.”

She laughed, “He will…don’t worry.”

I watched as her eyes explored my face before she asked, “So, what do you have planned this morning?”

I grimaced, “Well, I have an appointment with my therapist for what I’m sure will be a very interesting session. Her head may explode…”

“Ooof. Are you gonna tell her about us?”

My hand found the hem of the t-shirt she was still wearing and pulled it upwards so that I could run my fingers along her spine as I took a moment to think about it.

“Well, I know she’s gonna ask how New York went. She’s been very curious about our relationship from the beginning…”

Kat smirked, “Oh really? And why’s that?”

I chewed on my lip as heat crept into my cheeks. Oh well, no sense in hiding it now.

“Aside from the fact that I was actually building a friendship with someone new, I think she could sense that I was attracted to you. I did eventually fess up to it in one of our more recent sessions.”

Her smile widened, “You’ve been talking to your therapist about me this whole time?”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yes. Does that bother you?”

She shook her head, “No…not at all. What does she say about me?”

I chuckled, “I’m pretty sure she’s a closet Deiterina Stan…”

Kat laughed loudly at that. I knew it would get her.

Once she settled, I continued, “I’m only half joking. She’s…actually been very positive and supportive of our friendship and encouraged me to tell you how I was feeling once I realized it. She thinks you’re a positive influence and good for me. I tend to agree with that assessment.��

Her brows furrowed as her eyes turned glassy. She pulled herself upwards to lean in closer for a needy kiss. I deepened it before she pulled away, slightly breathless as she smiled down at me.

“I’m actually happy she feels that way. I was a bit worried she would think it’s too soon for you to pursue anything.”

I hugged her tighter against me, “Na, I’m in a good place. Really. I’m nearly ten months sober. She’s been happy with my progress. Especially since I started the show…it’s kept me busy and gave me a little more purpose…and you.”

She smiled, leaning in for another kiss just as my alarm went off. That was Zee’s cue to get up, stretching her legs outward as she made her way up the bed to greet us while I turned to shut the alarm off. After a few minutes of kitty snuggles, we finally got out of bed. I ran to Kat’s car to get her bag out so she could get ready for the professionals morning rehearsal while I made us a quick breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. I was rinsing a small bowl of fruit off when she walked into the kitchen with a smile, coming up behind me to wrap her arms around my waist and giving me a peck on the cheek.

“Need help with anything?” she asked as she rested her chin against my shoulder.

I shook my head as I shut the water off, “Nope, just finishing up actually.”

When I turned around, I found Zee stealthily inching down the counter toward the plate of bacon. I sighed, shooing her away while muttering about her being nothing but a pain in the ass as Kat laughed. I then realized Kat was still wearing my ‘Fucking is my cardio’ t-shirt, only she had tied it into a knot in the back and added some leggings to go with it. Something about the thought of her wearing my clothes in public made my dick twitch.

I gave her a flirty smirk, “You’re here one night and you’re already stealing my clothes and wearing them in public.”

She shrugged, “You’ll get over it. Besides, if they want to stare and gossip during rehearsals, might as well give them something to look at. Maybe Someone will tell Alec that I suddenly have a proclivity for fucking.”

I snorted out a laugh. That certainly wasn’t the response I was expecting, but I fucking loved it.

“This might be a sign you’re spending too much time with me…but I’m not complaining. I also like the thought of you being in my clothes when I’m not around. It’s kind of sexy…”

She gave me a sly smile, “Good. You can think about that while you’re telling your therapist how I rode you senseless when we were in New York.”

I nearly choked on my own spit as she turned to pile food on her plate with the devious grin still on her face.

“You’ve definitely been spending too much time with me, but I like it,” I finally said through a laugh, suddenly feeling incredibly turned on by her dirty sense of humor. I gave her a grabby pat on the ass before turning my attention to breakfast. We ate quickly and in silence because Kat needed to get to the dance studio. After a rather passionate goodbye kiss and ear scratches for Zee, she was on her way with a promise to see me for our evening rehearsal.

I couldn’t stop smiling over how our morning had gone as I got ready for and drove to my therapy session. I really hoped this would be our new normal because it was everything. If every day started this way there’s no way I would ever go back to my dark place.

Dr. Smith seemed to sense my good mood as soon as I sat down across from her. She gave me a genuine smile as she asked how I was feeling today.

I had to work hard to wipe the goofy grin off my face as I responded, “I’m…good today.”

Her eyes scanned over me, briefly stopping on my clasped hands in my lap. My hands were still, but my thumbs were going to war with each other as I struggled to find something to do with my excess energy.

She narrowed her eyes slightly as they finally met mine. Her head tilted to the side, “So, how did New York go?”

Fuck. Am I that transparent? She totally knows. I laughed nervously, “I mean, it went…good. SNL went really well. I seem to be back on good terms with the cast. They wanna have me back sometime, so that’s exciting…It was a lot of work with all the rehearsals for both shows, but we survived it.”

She pursed her lips, tilting her head the opposite direction as she studied me. “How did things go with Kat?”

And there it is. Getting right to it. “Ummm, good. It was nice to get away from all the drama that LA brings with it. We had a good time.”

She smiled, “Good again, huh? Everything is just…good?”

I grimaced, now scratching at my beard as I thought how best to respond. She didn’t give me the chance.

“I saw the open mic videos that are circulating online. You wanna tell me about those?”

Fuck fuck fuck. I shrugged, “Well…there’s not much to tell. We went out with the SNL cast and got roped into doing it.”

She nodded, “And your performance on Monday?”

I just stared at her. I didn’t know where she was going with this. I knew she was doing that thing where she talked me into a hole that I couldn’t dig myself out of. I shrugged as I gave her a hesitant smile, “What about it?”

She gave me a soft smile, “Dieter, I’m not blind. I can tell something has changed between you and Kat since I saw you last. Did you tell her how you were feeling?”

The pressure was getting to me. I sighed before blurting out in a rush, “Ok fine we had sex.”

More word vomit. I didn’t have to tell her that part. Fucking hell Bravo.

Her eyes widened as she leaned back in the chair, digesting what I had just said.

“Ok, well, I wasn’t expecting that… I thought maybe you just had a conversation.”

I started squeezing and unsqueezing my hands into fists over and over, now feeling like I had done something wrong. It was one of my nervous ticks. She noticed it immediately.

She held out her hand and placed it atop mine, “Please relax. I’m not upset with you. Just tell me what happened.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Well…the studio had us sharing a suite. So, we were together almost every second of the day while we were there. By the end of the week…there was just a crazy tension between us. She had ended things with Alec before we left, so I was feeling a little more confident about putting myself out there and I did. It was after the open mic thing…we were rehearsing our dance on the terrace of our suite. The tension had kind of reached a boiling point by then and she kissed me. It went on from there…I let her lead things.”

Her brows arched, “So she kissed you then you had sex?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling I had maybe slipped into old habits and handled things with Kat all wrong.

“I made sure first you know…that she knew that it meant something to me. I told her and asked her if she was sure. We talked after and I stayed with her that night. It happened a couple more times before we came back to LA.”

Her brows furrowed. Yeah, this doesn’t sound good, Bravo.

“Fuck…it was different with her, ok? We…ugh fuck.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. I was getting a headache.

“We had a connection. It was…emotional and intimate…it wasn’t just sex.”

She arched a brow at me to continue.

I sighed, “We haven’t had sex since we’ve been back. She stayed with me last night and I told her I didn’t want to…that I didn’t want it to be about that. I swear, I’m trying really hard to do this the right way. I really do care about her. I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Dr. Smith held a neutral expression, not giving me anything when she asked, “What did you do last night?”

The question took me by surprise, “Umm…well we had rehearsal most of the day. Then we went to my place, and I cooked dinner for her. We sat outside in a lounger by the fire pit after…talking and watching the sunset. Then we went to bed.”

She narrowed her eyes, “So, you two slept in the same bed?”

I nodded, “Yeah, she slept with me and my cat.”

“And you didn’t have sex?”

I shook my head, “No. Just cuddled.”

Her eyebrow ticked upward slightly, “And what about this morning? How did things go? Any of the awkwardness you always worry about?”

I shook my head, “No. We spent a few minutes cuddling and talking about our day…then snuggled the cat. I made breakfast while she got ready… we ate…she kissed me and Zee goodbye then left for the studio.”

Dr. Smith chewed on the inside of her cheek, almost looking like she was fighting a smile. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. She was making me so fucking anxious. She leaned forward, placing an elbow on her knee, “How much have you told her about your feelings?”

Again, not the question I expected. She was confusing the fuck out of me.

“I- umm…didn’t tell her exactly how I feel…only that I have feelings for her. I didn’t wanna throw the ‘L’ word out this soon and freak her out, ya know?”

She nodded, “And how did you feel after she left this morning?”

I looked down at my fisted hands in my lap. They relaxed some as that goofy uncontrollable grin slid across my face.

“I felt…happy. I would give anything to have all my mornings be like that…and my nights. Being with her makes me feel…alive…and complete.”

I was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming feeling that caused my eyes to prickle with the threat of tears. It was good tears though.

Dr. Smith smiled, “I think you’ve made more progress than you realize. It seems you’ve gotten your impulsive tendencies under control and I’m happy to see you’re working on your aversion to intimacy. All of this time that you’re spending with Kat talking, touching, learning…without involving sex…is the type of intimacy that you need and what you’ve been denying yourself of for so long. I’m proud of you for realizing that and following through with it. I can tell that having this kind of connection to someone is changing you for the better. You seem more confident and open about your feelings which can only aid you in creating a solid foundation with her.”

I was a little stunned at her praise. Any anxiety or doubts I had quickly dissipated.

She continued, “Given that, I do want to make sure you're expanding this growth to others in your life. I don’t want your happiness to depend on Kat. I want you to have happiness in the rest of your relationships too. Continue to build up your support system and bond with each of them.”

I nodded, “I’ve been trying…not that I have a very big circle right now…but those relationships feel strong. It’s been nice having Evan back on board. We’ve patched things up pretty well I think.”

She nodded, “That’s good to hear. I’m happy that it's been working out so well with him.”

She paused, seeming unsure about where she wanted to go next. She finally asked, “I assume you and Kat are keeping your relationship to yourselves?”

I nodded, “Yeah…because of Alec.”

“How have things been with him since you guys got back from New York?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, “Uhh…not good. We had…another confrontation on Monday after the show.”

Her brows furrowed, “What kind of confrontation?”

I sighed, “He was waiting for Kat in her dressing room and attacked her…One of the other couples came to get me after they saw him. When I finally got in, he was choking her. I shoved him off her…”

I really didn’t want to get into the rest of it because I knew where this conversation was going.

“What happened after that?” Dr. Smith prodded.

I puffed air out of my cheeks knowing she wasn’t going to let it go. My hands fisted in my lap again. I could feel my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands.

“I uhhh, I pinned him on the floor and hit him a few times…then tried to strangle him…I think. I’m not really sure what I was doing or thinking…I kind of blacked out in a blind rage when I saw what he was doing to Kat.”

Her lips set into a tight line, “What stopped you?”

I stared at my clenched fists, “One of the other dancers pulled me off him.”

“Did Kat go to the police?”

I shook my head, “No. She was worried the police report would get out to the media. She’s not wrong, it probably would’ve. She said I scared the shit out of him…so she doesn’t think he’ll try anything like that again.”

Dr. Smith gave me an empathetic look, “That’s never happened with you before, has it?”

I shook my head, “I mean, I went off on my dad a few times…but that’s it. I’m not a violent person.”

She nodded, “I know you’re not…which is why I’m concerned about how that incident affected you. Did it trigger any type of trauma response?”

I can’t fucking do this. “Can we just not go there today? I’m having a good day. I don’t wanna ruin it…”

She nodded, “Yeah, we can save it for next week if you want. So long as it’s not triggering anything.”

I shook my head, “No, not actively.”

“Ok. Next week then.”

We didn’t have much time left after that. We spent the last few minutes catching up on everything that happened in New York then called it a day. As I walked to the car, I chose to focus on the positive parts of that session, because I knew dwelling on the stuff about my past would sour my good mood quickly.

Just as I arrived back at the house, my phone lit up with a call from my agent, Lenny.

“Hey Lenny, what’s up?” I asked as I answered.

There was a brief moment of crackling static on the other end, “Hey D, I just wanted to check in and see how things are going?”

“Everything’s fine, why?” These “check in” calls always put me on edge. They usually meant I was about to be in trouble over something.

“No reason. I just wanted to catch up and let you know that we’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback about SNL. It’s definitely catching people’s attention. So is the feedback from the cast. They’re singing your praises.”

I couldn’t fight my smile. It made me feel good to hear something positive in relation to my work for once.

“That’s actually nice to hear. I had a lot of fun working with them this time around. They kept me very involved with every step. I really enjoyed it.”

“I really think this is the beginning of things turning around for your career. We just gotta keep that positive buzz going, ya know? You’ve been doing really well, and I think this helped people see that. You were really on top of your game Saturday. The fans are loving the dancing stuff too by the way. Pairing you with Kat has worked out well.”

My smile widened as I rubbed the back of my neck, “Yeah, Kat’s been great. I love working with her. I’m glad you talked me into doing the show…it’s been a lot of fun.”

Lenny cleared his throat nervously, “Speaking of Kat…I saw those videos of you two singing together…”

My brows furrowed. I wasn’t sure where this was going.

“OooK? And?” I asked.

“Well, the agency has noticed that those videos are getting a lot of attention…do you think she would be open to doing more stuff like that? For publicity?”

I sighed, frustrated by the turn in conversation. “I’m not gonna use Kat for publicity for my career.”

Lenny chuckled, “Aren’t you kind of doing that already?”

I got out of my car and began pacing the driveway, “The only thing I want her involved in is publicity for the show that we are working on together. I won’t ask her for more than that…or trick her into doing anything more than that. I’m not gonna take advantage of her in that way.”

Lenny sighed, “Fine…OK. I get it. It doesn’t have to be with her though. Maybe you could do some Instagram Lives again and sing a little. The fans would eat that shit up.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, I dunno about that, Len. I would feel awkward.”

Lenny huffed into the phone, “D, you used to do them all the time. What’s the big deal?”

I paused my pacing and ran my hand down my face, “The big deal is that I was usually cracked out of my mind and acting like a fool. I didn’t give two shits about how it looked or what people thought about my psychotic rants or partying. I’m not that guy anymore.”

“That’s exactly WHY you should do it. Show the world the NEW Dieter Bravo. If it’s what the fans want, give it to them.”

I sighed, “So you want me to do Lives and sing? Seriously?”

“Fuck yes. Sing, play your guitar…hell, I’d settle for watching you re-pot a plant…get creative like I know you can be. We need to start getting you out there more. Your fan base is growing like crazy thanks to the ballroom dance shit, so we need to take advantage of that and keep them hooked.”

This was making me anxious. I needed to end the conversation. “I’ll think about it, OK? I dunno how I feel about it.”

Lenny sighed, “Fine, think about it…but just do it. And if Kat happens to be involved in any way, the agency will not complain…just so you know.”

I scoffed, “Fuck off with that. I told you, I’m not using her for that shit.”

Lenny chuckled, “OK… fine, fine. Look, I’ve gotta go to a meeting. I’ll check back in with you in a few days.”

I rolled my eyes again, “Yeah, you go do that. Talk soon. Bye.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I hung up. I was beyond annoyed with him after that conversation. I shook my head as I walked inside, deciding not to give the topic any more thought.

Kat and I had our late rehearsal that afternoon. She brought in some props for us to use like we planned so that it would be a little more authentic and not just us pretending to remove pieces of clothing and dancing around non-existent furniture throughout the routine, because yes, we were totally going there. This performance was definitely going to push some boundaries, and we were one hundred percent rolling with it because why the fuck not?

Once we were done for the day, Kat came back to my place. We had leftovers for dinner then spent the rest of our time cuddling and talking. Our evening went basically the same as the previous one. We seemed to be settling into a routine of sorts. I loved getting to know her like this, laughing with her, and watching her with Zee. I couldn’t have asked for anyone more perfect for me if I tried.

Thursday was filming day. We of course had to watch ourselves, especially with the sexiness of this week’s dance. I tried to keep things light with jokes and just making a general ass of myself. My nonsense started when Kat left the room for a quick bathroom break. I put on the long flowy wrap skirt with a Velcro closure that she was using to rehearse in. When she returned, she was greeted by me swishing around the room. I briefly paused, giving her a dainty curtsy complete with a raised pinky, which caused her to wheeze in laughter. The rehearsal was nothing but fits of giggles after that, especially when I struggled through some of the more complicated lift combos and when we tripped over each other’s feet during the intertwining leg moves that Kat had us doing. Even the film crew was having a hard time keeping it together. I could only hope it came across as two friends having fun and struggling to be serious with a sexy dance rather than two people who were in a secret relationship and doing far more intimate things in their spare time.

Kat came home with me again that night. I encouraged her to relax on the couch as I made dinner for us. Zee joined her, stretching out for belly rubs while she waited to be fed too. Kat hadn’t said anything, but I could tell she wasn’t feeling that well. I couldn’t help worrying that the long hours of dancing were getting to her. I needed to do better about making sure she was taking care of herself. I didn’t want her to neglect her self-care because she was spending too much time with me. Even if that meant I had to take care of her myself.

After she crawled into bed that night, I took a few minutes to do just that. I started with a foot massage, taking special care to avoid that certain spot that I knew would get her worked up. It wasn’t about that tonight. I just wanted her to relax and find some relief for her aching joints. I eventually moved up to her calf and worked my way up from there before switching to the other leg.

She watched me intently for a time. Eventually settling back into the pillows and humming to herself as she closed her eyes. As my hand slid up to the upper half of her leg and began to massage there, the slight pressing together of her thighs didn’t go unnoticed. I chuckled quietly as my fingertips kneaded a little deeper into the meaty area.

She sighed, “I know you’re not purposely trying to, but you’re torturing me…just a little bit.”

I laughed, moving both hands to her hip to massage there. “I can tell. My apologies. I’ll avoid the inner thigh next time.”

She hummed in satisfaction, “Next time? You’re spoiling me, you know that right? I’m ruined.”

I smiled, crawling up her body to bury my face in her chest and inhale her intoxicating citrus and plum scent that I never seemed to get enough of. “Good. That’s my goal. You deserve it.”

Her hands tangled in my hair as her nails gently scratched my scalp. We sat like that in a comfortable silence. Just feeling each other. The warmth of her skin and the steady thump of her heartbeat under my ear lulled me into a stupor, making me feel calm and peaceful. The gaping hole that I had felt in my heart for most of my life now seemed nonexistent and it was because of her. I no longer felt like I was lost. I was home.

My arms tightened against her sides as I considered that thought, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that had a lump forming in my throat. I took a few deep breaths, pushing the tears away that were threatening to seep out. I wanted to tell her how I was feeling, but I held it back - still afraid that it was too soon.

When I raised my head to meet her gaze, my chest felt like it was going to burst over how fucking perfect she was. I wasn’t sure what my expression held, but she picked up on my emotional state causing her fingers to still their movements. Her brows pinched together. “You OK?” she asked.

I had to clear the lump away in my throat before I spoke. “Yeah…I’m just getting tired. You ready to go to bed?”

Her eyes searched my face for a brief moment before she nodded and withdrew her arms from around my shoulders so I could get up to switch off the light. Afterward, I crawled back into the bed, settling in at her back before pulling her body snugly against my front. She drifted off quickly, her breathing slowing as she relaxed further into me. I had a harder time finding sleep that night as my thoughts ran wild with possibilities for our future. There was no question about it, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and I wanted it to start now. However, I knew that was my impulsive nature talking. I needed to take this slow and continue to follow her lead. If this was going to work, it needed to be on her timeline, not mine.

Friday morning Kat awoke feeling groggy and stiff. I had a feeling she felt worse than she let on, but she insisted she would be alright once she started moving around. I got up to get a hot shower going while she took a few minutes to do some gentle stretches. She joined me afterward, yawning before snaking her arms around my waist and leaning against my chest as she stood under the hot spray.

My fingers went to her hair, working the water through it until it was saturated. My hands then found their way to her face, cupping her cheeks as I took in her expression.

“Are you sure you’re feeling OK? Maybe we should cut our rehearsal time down today?”

She shrugged, “We’ll see how it goes. I’m just having a slow start…I think.”

I sighed, “If you need a break today I think it would be OK. We’ve got it down pretty good so far…”

She put a finger over my lips to silence me, “I’m feeling better already. Relax.”

I rolled my eyes and nodded, dropping the subject and focused my attention on washing her hair. She did seem to be feeling better by the time we were done showering, which helped alleviate some of my concern. However, a few hours into rehearsal, it was clear she was running out of steam. The occasional wince and constant shifting on her feet told me she was uncomfortable and most likely having joint pain.

By the time we were down to our last hour and a half of studio time, I called it. She protested as I sat down on the floor with my arms and legs crossed like a petulant child and refused to do anything else. She finally relented and started packing up as she reluctantly admitted she was feeling like shit. I wanted to take her home with me and take care of her, but she wasn’t having it. She decided instead to go to her house and “sleep it off”. I wasn’t happy about it but agreed. I was saddened by the fact that she wouldn’t allow me to help in any way and also by the fact that she wouldn’t be staying with me that night. I was already getting used to having her in my bed. The mere thought of her not being there was already making me feel anxious.

I ended up breaking our self-imposed rules and pulled her into the small one person bathroom as we were about to leave. I needed to feel her, if only for a brief moment before we parted for the evening. She scolded me, but that didn’t stop her from wrapping her arms around my neck as I leaned in for a fiery kiss. It helped dampen my anxiousness, but it was only temporary.

Once we finally broke apart, she exited the bathroom and scanned the area for any nosey onlookers. Finding none, she gave me the all clear to come out behind her. We said our polite goodbyes after that. Then we were on our way to our respective homes.

The anxious feeling quickly returned when I walked into my house alone. I had to keep myself busy catching up on some much needed plant care in an attempt to drown out the lonely feeling that kept creeping in. Even Zee seemed to be moping around, lacking her usual enthusiasm for dinner and play time.

The minutes seemed to be dragging on painfully slow as I ran out of things to keep me occupied. I ended up spending the rest of the evening in my studio working on one of the several paintings I had started of my new muse. It was nearing midnight when I finally decided to go to bed, even though I was still feeling amped up. I really wanted to text Kat and see how she was feeling, but didn’t want to chance waking her up if she was asleep. It was almost maddening.

My sleep that night was restless. I had tossed and turned so much that Zee got mad and left the bedroom. I felt groggy when the alarm woke me from my light sleep the next morning. I was staring at the ceiling and feeling almost ridiculous over the fact that not having Kat here was affecting me this much when my phone pinged. I couldn’t help smiling when I saw her name pop up on the screen. I grabbed my phone, realizing I had a few texts from random numbers that I didn’t even bother to look at. Hers was the only one I cared about.

Kit Kat: I should have just gone home with you. Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine. 😞

My smile widened as I hit the call button.

Her voice was muffled when she answered, like she had her face buried in a pillow. I chuckled, “Thanks for the tip, honey. Now I know what argument to use next time.”

She huffed, “Shush you. I didn’t wanna be a burden.”

I sighed knowing that was probably the way Alec often made her feel, “You’re never a burden. I’d just put your ass to bed and go downstairs so you could sleep. Problem solved.”

She laughed as I continued, “OR…or…I’d crawl into bed and sleep it off with you. A little extra sleep never hurt anyone. Seriously though, are you feeling better?”

I could hear the blankets rustling as she moved around, “Umm, maybe. Not as achy, but still a little stiff.”

“Do you wanna hold off on rehearsal and rest some more?” I asked.

She scoffed, “Absolutely not. It’s our last rehearsal day. There are a couple of things we need to nail down before tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ok, fine. I’m gonna bring you some herbal tea though. No complaining. You’re gonna drink it and like it. It’ll help.”

She sighed dramatically, “Yes, sir. Whatever you say.”

I groaned, “Please don’t talk like that or else I’m gonna get hard.”

She snickered, “Sorry. I’ll behave. I’ll see you at the studio here shortly, yeah?”

“Yep. I’ll bring you some breakfast too. Just worry about gettin’ yourself there.”

I could hear the smile in her voice as she replied with a breathy, “Yes, sir.”

I raked a hand down my face, feeling that familiar rush of blood to my dick, “Damnit.”

“Enjoy your morning shower,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah…bye. See you soon, sweetheart.”

After a very cold shower, I got ready, fed Zee, made Kat’s tea, then headed out. As promised, I stopped to pick up some breakfast on the way. I found Kat already stretching when I walked in. She looked like she felt a little better at least.

After eating, we got to it, working out the last of the minor kinks that we kept running into with the lifts. By the end of our rehearsal session, we were successfully executing the routine perfectly each time and were feeling pretty confident about it. The only concern we had was that the producers might want us to tone down the sexual nature of it. My thought was to tell them to fuck off because they picked the song. It was their fault.

Once rehearsal was over, we had to make our way over to Television City Studios for spray tan night. There was no getting out of it this week unfortunately. It was obvious that gossip was spreading throughout the staff and cast based on the general vibes toward us. What that gossip was, we had no idea. I assumed it was mostly to do with the Alec confrontation. Everyone was nice of course, but the looks being passed around told us things were being said.

The weird vibes seemed to intensify when Alec and Lana showed up. We hadn’t seen him since the incident, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. His face was definitely banged up more than I thought it would be - with a black eye, busted lip, and bruised jaw. I couldn’t help feeling a little satisfaction from that. He deserved far worse.

I could feel Kat tensing beside me when she caught sight of Alec. I placed my hand on the small of her back for reassurance, which caused her to lean into me and focus her attention elsewhere. Marc and Stefanie joined us, checking in with Kat to see how she was doing. I was only half paying attention, keeping my eye on the asshole, watching as Lana seemed to try and sooth him. It was obvious his usual crowd wasn’t being as friendly with him. I hoped that meant they were finally seeing what kind of person he was. He deserved to lose everything.

Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long. A PA sought us out and explained that they would take care of us first from now on so we could get out of there in an effort to keep Kat away from Alec. Clearly Stacia and Joe had shared some information with the staff, but who knew how much? The rumors were probably getting pretty wild at this point. I could only imagine what was going to eventually hit the tabloids.

After reminding Kat about my comfortable bed, she came home with me after that. We ordered some to-go food from the Greek diner on the way and had that for dinner. I encouraged her to go get some rest after we ate. She protested, but still followed me upstairs and allowed me to put her into one of my oversized t-shirts and braid her hair before pulling back the covers and urging her to lay down. Zee joined her almost immediately and snuggled into her side so that I could tuck them both in. I sat on the edge of the bed, pushing a few loose strands of hair back as she smiled up at me.

“I feel weird coming over here just to sleep,” she finally said.

I rolled my eyes, “It’s fine. I like that you wanna be here, even if you are using me for my orthopedic mattress.”

She snorted out a laugh, “You know that’s not the only reason I’m here. I…I feel safe here…with you.”

My lips set into a tight line. I hated that she ever had to feel unsafe. “You can stay here as long as you want. I don’t mind. I actually…”

I paused, suddenly feeling vulnerable, but decided to say what I was thinking anyway.

“I feel less lonely when you’re here.”

She gave me a misty-eyed smile as she reached for my hand and brought it to her lips. I gave her a soft smile in return, rubbing my thumb over the tops of her fingers.

“Now, you rest. I think I’m gonna go paint for a bit, then I’ll come to bed.”

After leaning down to give her and Zee a quick kiss on the top of the head, I disappeared to my studio. I started a new painting that night. It was of Kat, of course, lying on her side facing away in the creamy colored bedding that contrasted so perfectly with the golden brown skin of her bare back. Her chestnut hair wild and fanning out around her head. I made sure to add the two small freckles on her left shoulder blade that I loved to kiss so much as well as the subtle definition of her toned muscles that I always found to be so fucking sexy. I worked to get the curve of her hip just right as the sheet draped off it.

She really did have the body of a goddess, full and curvy but still firm and perfectly sculpted from a life spent on the dance floor. It was feminine, yet exuded strength. I was almost certain she could crush my head with her thighs if she wanted to, which was sort of a turn on if I was being honest.

My intense concentration was broken by my phone pinging with a text message. It was another random number. I glanced at it, someone wanting to get together to party after seeing me on SNL. I had started getting a lot of these all of a sudden. Since none of the numbers were saved, I knew it couldn’t be anyone good. I had cleared out my contacts list after rehab for a reason. I rolled my eyes, then blocked the number.

Realizing it was nearing 10:30 PM, I decided to head to bed. I made an effort to be quiet as I went through my nightly routine. Kat didn’t seem fazed in the slightest as I crawled into bed behind her to be the big spoon. She sunk back into my embrace as I put my arm around her and Zee, who was still snuggled against her chest. Once her scent invaded my senses, I was out.

I woke up the next morning nose to nose with Kat. Her eyes were on my face as her fingers combed through the mess that I knew my hair had to be. She gave me a toothy smile as she told me ‘Good morning’. I responded by pulling her into a passionate kiss that lasted several minutes, finally breaking away because we really needed to get up. It was show day, so we couldn’t get behind schedule.

We drove to the studio separately to keep up appearances. I took a detour for coffee mostly so we didn’t show up at the same time. We ended up being pretty early, but the crew was ready to get started once I got there. Kat and I talked through the music arrangement with the band Director, then got started on our first run through for camera blocking and lighting. The routine was definitely getting everyone’s attention.

Kat and I caught Stacia and Joe watching from the back of the ballroom. A nervous look passed between us, waiting for the chat to tell us to tone it down some, but that talk never came. The rest of the cast began filtering into the ballroom just as we were finishing up our third and final run through. We finished up to a few whoops and whistles from some of them. Most of the ruckus seemed to be coming from Marc and Stefanie. Marc gave me a pat on the back as we walked off the dance floor as he and Stefanie praised us. I was slowly forming a new appreciation for them as we exited to go to our costume fitting.

After putting on my black pants, I didn’t bother to button up the shirt before walking out to the fitting area where Kat and Amy were discussing the minor additions to her costume that would be removed throughout the performance. She turned to me, holding out two skirt options that would fit over her original black lace costume, asking which one I thought would be best. We ended up going through those moves of the dance to test them out. We settled on a lightweight silky one.

After that, I was standing in front of the three panel mirror as Kat fussed with my open shirt and explained what we needed. Amy decided to use some sticky Velcro strips to close it up rather than the buttons so that Kat could easily yank it open at the right moment. Once Amy got everything sorted and fastened, Kat shocked me a little by coming up behind me, grasping the shirt in her hands, and ripping it open without warning. She rested her chin on my shoulder as she laughed out, “I think that’ll get the job done.”

I snorted out a laugh, as our eyes locked in the mirror. She had a mischievous grin on her face as she pulled the shirt open further and allowed her eyes to travel downward. She raised an eyebrow as she focused on my middle section.

I shrugged, “I think the spray tan lady gave me better abs. They were there this morning.”

It was Kat’s turn to snort out a laugh as she ran her hands down my stomach, “No, they were there already…she just did a little contouring.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever. I mean, I’ve lost weight but I dunno about that.”

She leaned in closer to my ear, “I’d still hit it with or without them.”

My breath hitched as I glanced over at Amy who seemed to be in deep conversation with an assistant, then I looked back to Kat who was still giving me that mischievous smile. She was playing with fire today.

I tilted my head to whisper in her direction, “Better watch yourself Kitten, or else I’ll do just that.”

She was still standing pressed to my back when I felt a hand grab my ass. She gave me a cheeky grin before letting go and turning toward Amy and her assistant to ask for a black tie and suit jacket to go with my costume. After changing out of our costumes, Amy rushed them back for the minor alterations needed. Then we were off to hair and makeup.

We managed to nab our favorite hair and makeup team, which we were happy about. Those ladies were always a good time, making the process a lot more bearable. Kat opted to wear her hair down in soft waves again this week, rubbing it in as the hair gel was slathered onto my head to slick my hair back in that way they loved doing to all the guys.

As I watched Kat interact with everyone, I could see a notable change in her. She seemed more carefree and happier than she had been during those first few weeks, openly joking around and having fun with those around her. I briefly wondered if she ever had this in prior seasons - the freedom to be herself. If she hadn’t, it made me sad knowing that she never fully got it until the end. She deserved so much better than she got.

I was drawn from my thoughts by Kat suggesting to Samantha that I should wear some mascara and a smidge of eyeliner. I furrowed my brows at her and started laughing.

“You’re not serious?” I asked.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, fighting a smile as she nodded. Holly glanced up from Kat’s hair and smiled, “I agree. That’d be hot.”

Kat waggled her eyebrows at me, “Yeah, see. It’s hot…”

Samantha gave me a questioning look and I shrugged, “If that’s what my girl wants, that’s what she gets.”

I realized too late what I had actually said, causing me to grimace slightly. Kat’s eyes widened before she laughed it off. Samantha and Holly seemed unfazed by it, laughing along and getting back to work.

We got held up with our costumes for a bit as they perfected the last minute changes we requested. By the time they got that figured out, we were the last couple to do final dress rehearsals. Luckily a lot of the cast had cleared out by then since they were finished, so we didn’t have to worry about too big of an audience. We ended up having to go through the routine a couple more times than we normally did to work out the kinks with the costumes since they were a little different from what we had been using in rehearsal. Once that was figured out, we nailed it.

We didn’t have long before the show started after that. Kat and I were the fourth couple to perform, so we were already in the staging area waiting. She had to do a quick change after the opening professionals performance then immediately joined me again so that we could start our pre-performance ritual. I grabbed Kat’s phone to pick a song and began laughing before I even hit play.

🎶Listen to Dieter's Song Choice Here🎶

Kat narrowed her eyes at me as the hip-hop beat filled her wired earbud. I was already moving to the music by the time she realized what the song was. Her face flushed red and she fought to hold in laughter as she shook her head at me.

I started mouthing along with the words as I grabbed her hands to get her to move with me, “I take you to the candy shop, I let you lick the lollipop.”

She shushed me through her giggles, going along and moving with me to the beat. It wasn’t exactly a hype song, but it allowed us to have some fun and shake off the nerves before we got the signal to head to the dance floor.

🎶Listen to Performance Song Here🎶

We took our places, me standing with a suit jacket casually thrown over my shoulder with Kat in front of me as a light fog surrounded us. After a flourish of her arms as the song started, her hands slid down the sides of my face to my chest.

You put a spell on me / I’m losing my mind

She turned, walking away suggestively and beckoning me with a finger. I threw the jacket down and followed behind her. Then our back and forth power struggle began as I caught up to her, capturing her arm for a spin and pulling her backside to my front.

You better stop these things / It’s a matter of time before I hunt you down, grab your chin, kiss your lips. / You bring me back, I lay you down, and grab your hips, and we lose all control.

We swayed in unison as she turned her face toward mine, my hand capturing her chin and pressing the side of my mouth against hers. My hands found their way to her hips as we did a deep circular rotation with them in unison before spinning her to face me for the next verse.

And then before you know, I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine. / I’ve got a hold on you, at least for tonight.

We swayed, staring into each other's eyes as my hands caressed her face. We transitioned into an intertwining leg combo before she spun away from me, her hand cupping my cheek before sliding down and pulling the loose tie from around my neck to take with her.

You know I can’t help myself as you ask tenderly / If I’d dim the lights as your hand brushes me / Then the floor swallows your clothes, and your silhouette puts on a show

With a flourish of my hands and a snap, the lights dimmed. A spotlight dropped down on Kat as she discarded the tie and began a slow and seductive roll of her body. Pulling the newly added silky skirt loose as she spun and dropping it to the floor before moving toward me and kicking her leg up for the lift onto my shoulder.

You give me fever, drive me insane / You got me going in circles with potions and bottles and I can’t escape / I can’t escape / I’m lost in your ways

We transitioned into a salida, our foot work completely in sync before Kat moved her legs in a swivel, sliding her arms to my neck as mine tightened under her arms and around her back. Her feet spread wide so that they were inches off the floor as I leaned forward and spun us in a circle.

You put a spell on me / I’m losing my mind / You better stop these games / It’s a matter of time before I hunt you down, grab your chin, kiss your lips. / You bring me back, I lay you down, and grab your hips, and we lose all control.

As I gently placed her back on the floor, she grabbed my waist, turning me away from her so that she could rip my shirt open similar to the way she had in the dressing room earlier. After pulling the shirt off and discarding it on the floor, things only got more sensual as we moved across the ballroom as one. Hands sliding across each other's bare skin as our foreheads pressed together. Lips brushing as she twisted and swiveled around me. I spun her, her back to my front again for the deep circular rotation of our hips before moving into the tango walk.

I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine. / I’ve got a hold on you, at least for tonight…At least for tonight.

For the final part, we transitioned into another lift as I spun her around and gently lowered her to her knees on top of the fake bed we had requested as a prop. After dipping her backwards at the waist and doing half a rotation, she popped back up into our finishing pose with her hands on my face and our lips near touching as the lights quickly dimmed to black causing a deafening round of applause.

Kat managed to sneak an actual kiss in before the lights came back on. There was something incredibly thrilling about it, knowing that all eyes were on us but they couldn’t see anything in that brief moment. It had me wanting her so badly. I was ready to leave without getting our scores.

It was time to chat with the judges after that. They mainly focused on how sexy the performance was, going so far as to make jokes about fines for not meeting the show rating standards. They mentioned how our chemistry seemed to evolve more and more each week and was now exploding off the charts. It left me wondering how much longer we could keep this thing between us under wraps if we couldn’t hide it on the dance floor.

I had a hard time concentrating on anything except Kat during our interview. My arm was around her shoulders while she had placed one around my waist. I hadn’t bothered to put my shirt back on, so I could feel every inch of her pressing against me with only the thin fabric of the lace costume separating us. Her fingers held my waist firmly as she pulled me tightly against her side.

The air around us almost felt like it was vibrating as we fumbled our way through the hosts' questions, trying to explain how we kept our cool with such a provocative dance. I felt like they were trying to trip us up into saying something incriminating in regard to our relationship, but we played it cool, managing to redirect the focus to two friends having fun while working together.

After standing around waiting for a commercial break to end, they went straight into scoring. We received four tens. Another perfect score. We were elated obviously. Kat didn’t hesitate to jump into my arms for a hug over the news. We were buzzing with excitement after that, finding it hard to focus on the remaining performances. Especially when we would brush against each other, accidentally or not. I tried to avoid shooting heated glances her way, but it was hard. Especially when she seemed to be reciprocating them.

We both sighed in relief when the show was finally over, making a beeline toward the dressing rooms. We had zero urge to hang around and socialize once the show ended. Honestly, after our steamy performance, the only thing I could think about was getting her alone just so I could kiss her. I was quickly losing the strength to restrain myself from scooping her up in my arms in front of everyone. We reached my room first, after glancing up and down the hallway for prying eyes and finding none, I turned toward her with a mischievous smile and pulled her through the doorway.

After closing the door behind us, I backed her to the middle of the room, pulling her hips against mine as I captured her lips in a searing kiss. Her hands snaked around my neck as she deepened it, swallowing the groan that rumbled from my chest. I pulled back in an effort to not get carried away, sighing as I pushed her hair away from her face. “Lemme get changed so we can get outta here.”

She huffed, suggestively running her fingertips down the bare skin of my chest. “Fine…OK,” she said in mock annoyance. She moved to lean against the vanity countertop, crossing her arms as she watched me undress down to my boxer briefs.

I couldn’t help standing up a little straighter and puffing out my chest as I asked, “You see something you like, honey?”

She smiled as she looked at me through her lashes, “Maybe…”

I playfully rolled my eyes and chuckled, grabbing my robe off a wall hook and putting it on before shoving my costume into its garment bag. I quickly opened the door to put it out for pickup. As I closed the door behind me, I surveyed the room, thinking through what I needed to pack up to take with me. I walked toward the vanity, reaching around Kat to grab my phone charger. She tilted her head closer, grazing her nose along my neck before sucking on my earlobe as her fingers tugged the robe open. My hand paused midair as I leaned into her mouth with a smile, “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Her palms moved to my chest, pushing me backwards until the back of my knees bumped the chair, “Why don’t you sit for a spell, Bravo.”

I was curious where this was going, so I didn’t argue. The robe fell open as I sunk down into the chair, slouching with my legs spread wide - giving her an eye full of little Bravo who was now at full attention and dying to come out to play. My eyes stayed on hers as they drifted down to enjoy the view. She ambled forward, swaying her hips seductively until she came to stop between my thighs. She reached out, cupping my cheek with a smirk on her lips as she lifted one leg, then the other to straddle my hips. Only the thin fabric of our undergarments separated my hard length from the place that it wanted to disappear into. My hands found her hips, gripping and rocking them against me. Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact as she leaned forward against my chest, changing the angle to seek more friction. My face nuzzled against hers as my lips found her ear, “I want you so bad right now…need to stop teasing me.”

Her breath hitched as I bucked against her to emphasize my point. She turned her head, mouth hovering above mine, “You can have me…anytime you want. You don’t even need to ask…”

I smiled against her lips, “Is that right?”

She nodded, leaning in for a sensual kiss as she continued to slowly roll her hips against mine.

I groaned as my hands slid up her bare thighs to dip under the hem of her dress and grab the globes of her ass. “Tell me what you need, Kitten,” I mumbled between kisses.

She pulled back, running her hands down my chest as she stared into the depths of my soul with a playful smile. “I want you to show me what a proper fucking from Dieter Bravo is like.”

My brows knitted together as a wide grin spread across my face, “What? Here? Now?”

Her brows arched, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she nodded.

I sighed, “Oh Kitten, I don’t think you can be quiet enough for that. You’ll get us caught.”

She straightened her shoulders as her eyes narrowed on me, “You wanna try me?”

I huffed out a laugh, giving a jerky nod, “Yes, I fucking do.”

My lips crashed against hers, kissing her with more force than I ever had. If she wanted that carnal, animalistic side of me, who was I to deny her? Fucking was something I knew all too well, but I could already tell that even this would feel differently with her, and I craved it. I wanted her in any way she would let me have her.

A knock on the door caused us to breathlessly break away from each other.

“Dieter, are you still here?” a voice called from the hallway.

Kat and I stared at each other, confused by the sudden interruption.

“Yeah…I’m here…” I called back cautiously.

“Have you seen Kat? She hasn’t turned in her costume yet. I’d like to get out of here soon.”

We both held in giggles as I yelled back, “Haven’t seen her.”

Kat smiled mischievously and wiggled against my extremely hard dick. I gave her a look of warning as we heard muted muttering and retreating footsteps outside the door. Once it appeared that the coast was clear, my lips found hers again as she continued to grind against me. My body felt like it was on fire, her touch further stoking the flame as her hand moved downward between us. Just as her fingertips dipped under the waistband of my boxer briefs, another knock sounded on the door, “Dieter, can you like…text her or something? No one’s seen her.”

I let out a frustrated growl as I leaned my forehead against Kat’s, “Oh for fucks sake…”

She fought a smile as she held in her laugh.

“Just… give me a minute!” I finally called back a bit more harshly than I meant to.

Without a second thought, I grabbed Kat’s thighs and stood, sitting her on the edge of the vanity before squatting down to take off her dance shoes. She watched me work with a small smile on her lips, lifting first her right foot, then the left for me to unbuckle the straps and place kisses along her calf as I pulled each shoe off. My hands ghosted up her legs toward her hips, gripping them to pull her off the vanity. I turned her to face the mirror, then unfastened the hooks to the straps on the back of her dress. Our gazes locked on each other in the mirror as I began to slide the dress down her body, revealing her to me. Once I pushed it past her hips, my head tipped forward to place gentle kisses along her neck, whispering a quiet “wait here” against her ear before I tied my robe shut and bent down to collect her costume.

I had to adjust myself as I moved across the room, hoping the loose fabric of the robe might conceal my raging hard on as I carefully opened the door just far enough to pass off the costume pieces in question. I quickly shoved them through the opening, “Here ya go.”

The PA momentarily stared at me with confusion before finally reaching to take the costume. I gave her a tight smile, “Have a good evening.”

She still looked confused as she replied, “Uhh, thanks?”

Without another word, I shut the door and locked it. Turning to find Kat still standing facing the mirror like I left her.

She smirked, “You realize that’s probably gonna cause some gossip…”

I quickly closed the distance between us, my hands gliding around to the front of her body to explore her curves, “Then let them fucking gossip. I have urgent matters to attend to…”

My left hand cupped her breast and squeezed it gently, eliciting a soft sigh from her as she leaned back against my chest. Her right hand reached behind her, tugging at the tie to the robe and pulling it open again. Her eyes settled on mine in the mirror as she cradled my bulge and stroked it gently.

I tisked at her as I grabbed her hand away, “Oh no no, Kitten. If you want a proper fuck, that means I’m in charge right now.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, allowing her hand to fall limply at her side as my right hand joined the left, kneading her breasts and pulling her body flush with mine. My mouth found her neck, nipping little love bites up the length of it as my right hand slid into the waistband of her underwear to gently tease her, spreading her slick over the swollen bud that was already throbbing in anticipation.

Within seconds she melted against me, whimpering as my fingers found their rhythm. Once her body began to tense and tremble, I withdrew my hand and was met with a soft whine.

“Don’t worry, Kitten. I’m not done yet…just warming you up.”

My fingers moved to her hips, hooking in the elastic of her underwear. “Can I take these off?” I asked against the curve of her neck, causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She nodded, letting out a breathy “please” as she arched into me. I placed open mouthed kisses down her spine as I slid them off. After standing upright, I placed a knee between her thighs to spread her legs as my right hand found its way back to her center. My fingers gently rubbed tight circles around her clit while my left hand moved back to her breast. My eyes connected with hers in the mirror again as my teeth grazed her earlobe. She was already coming undone, panting and squirming against me, and we hadn’t even gotten to the fun part yet.

“You tell me to stop if I’m being too rough,” I said against her ear.

Her breath hitched as she nodded. I withdrew my fingers, giving her clit a quick smack causing her to moan quietly, “Use your words, Kitten. I need you to agree. Don’t be afraid to tell me to stop. You understand?”

She nodded again, “Y-Yes, I understand.”

I gave her a cheeky smile, “Good girl.”

Another quick smack to her center had her falling forward with a deep groan, resting her palms on the vanity as she rubbed her ass against me. My fingers got back to work, sinking into her heat and curling against just the right spot as I roughly shook my palm against her bundle of nerves.

I hadn’t been this aggressive with her in the past, so I focused on what her body was telling me, afraid she wouldn’t make me stop if it was too much. She seemed to be into it as she sought out more friction against my palm. Her brows pinched together as her jaw went lax. Her head dropped down between her shoulders as she fought to hold in the moans. My left hand slid up to her neck, gripping just under her chin to pull her back against my chest as I kept up the relentless pace with my fingers.

“I need to see your face, keep your eyes on me please.”

She panted out a breathy, “Yes, sir” and I nearly lost myself. She must have felt my dick twitch against her, because she smiled widely, reaching one hand behind her to grab at my ass to pull my hips tighter against hers.

I chuckled next to her ear as I rolled her clit between my fingertips, “Such a needy girl…come for me then I’ll fuck you like you want me to.”

She gasped at the new sensation, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to hold in the sounds that were trying to escape. Her eyes shifted between mine and my hands in the mirror, the sight seeming to spur her on as she writhed against me. I could tell she was close as I dipped my fingers back into her heat while roughly shaking my palm against her clit again. Her free hand grabbed my forearm, squeezing it tightly as she began to tremble and tense in my arms before going limp. I gave her a moment, allowing her to come down from her high as my hands explored her body.

I suddenly felt her arch against me as a lazy smile spread across her face. “Will you fuck me now? Please?” she asked in a sultry voice.

Little Bravo was damn near busting through my boxer briefs at that. I was still a little apprehensive, afraid that I would hurt her. I knew the dancing was beginning to wear her body down, and I didn’t want to add to it, but I trusted that she would tell me if it was too much.

I gave her a cocky smile as my right hand ghosted up her spine to grab the base of her neck to manipulate her into position, “Lean forward.”

She complied, placing her palms on the vanity as she tilted her hips back and upward to give me better access. We stared at each other in the mirror as my fingertips lightly stroked down her back, then grabbed her hips, gripping them tightly as I rubbed my hardness against her. Before she could register what I was doing, I drew my hand back and slapped her ass. She flinched slightly. I soothed the area with my palm as I studied her, “Is that too much?”

She smiled and shook her head, “No…just wasn’t expecting it.” Her voice had a raspy and needy tone to it.

I gave it another smack, causing her to exhale out a quiet groan as she pushed back against me. I paused, savoring the sight of her before me, naked and nearly bent over the countertop in my dressing room. It was a sight I had never expected to see. This wasn’t at all an unusual situation for me before I got sober. I’d had more than my fair share of women and men bent over countertops in dressing rooms, but with her, it just felt different. I felt the same rush of excitement and arousal, but there was something else there with it. A tightness in my chest and tingling along my skin as my gaze met hers.

My connection with her was more than physical and gave me a high unlike any drug I’d ever had. I could only assume this is what it felt like to be in love with someone. I suddenly understood why some men would risk life and limb for their significant other. If this is how they were made to feel, then I couldn’t blame them. I’d do anything for her.

I reached down with my right hand, releasing myself from my boxer briefs as my other hand gently caressed her back. She watched me stroking myself in the mirror, her breathing speeding up from the sight as I tipped my head forward, allowing spit to drip down to my hand to spread over the hard length.

I moved closer to her back side, allowing my cock to rub against her drenched center as I leaned my chest against her and reached around to knead her breast with my free hand, “I think you like watching me touch myself, don’t you honey?”

She sucked in a sharp breath at the contact as she pressed against me for more friction, “I like how you look at me when you do it. I can tell you’re thinking about all the different ways you want me.”

I chuckled and mumbled, “You’re not wrong” against her shoulder as I notched the head at her entrance and began to slowly sink in. I gave her a moment to adjust. She hummed out a sigh as she nuzzled her cheek against mine. My hands moved back to her hips and gripped them firmly, “You sure this is what you want, Kitten? It won’t be gentle.”

I felt her clench around me, my words seeming to excite her.

“I’m sure. Don’t hold back, please.”

She was damn near begging. It almost sent me over the edge. I had to take the first few thrusts slowly until I gained my focus back. On the fourth, my fingers dug into the meaty flesh of her hips to hold her in place as I slammed into her. She lurched forward slightly, crying out in surprise at the intensity. I paused, assessing her for a moment. A lazy smile spread across her face as she pushed back against me to keep going.

I set a steady pace causing Kat to whimper loudly with each vigorous thrust. The sounds of our heavy pants and flesh smacking together filled the room as her right hand flew up to her mouth in an attempt to muffle some of the sound, eventually digging her teeth into her palm as she fought to contain herself. As she began to push backward against me to meet my thrusts, I could tell she was losing her composure. My right hand glided up her back, twisting in the hair at the nape of her neck as the other snaked around her waist to pull her flush against me. My fingers tightened in her locks, turning her face to meet mine. She kissed me in a libidinous way. I could feel it throughout my entire body, causing it to hum with electricity. I completely lost myself and my awareness as my craving for more of her intensified.

I suddenly pulled out of her, causing whines of protest as I spun her around to face me and lifted her up onto the edge of the vanity. I wasted no time sinking back into her wet heat, pulling her closer and tilting her hips downward to get the friction where she needed it most. It was almost frantic between us now as our mouths crashed together, swallowing the grunts and moans that escaped with each forceful thrust that had her bouncing against me. Her hands found their way to the inside of my robe, sliding up my back before her nails dug in deep just as she tensed around me. She buried her face into the crook of my neck as she came with a deep moan that she tried hard to contain.

She finally raised her head to look at me with watery eyes. Her face was flushed and sweaty as she leaned her forehead against mine with a satisfied smile as I continued to drive into her with the same vigor. I could feel my release building as she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in closer. I wasted no time burying my face into her chest, groaning loudly and whimpering as I came inside of her.

She held me for a few minutes, scratching at the nape of my neck and down my back as my hands wandered up and down the sides of her body. We were both dripping with sweat as we waited for our breathing and heart rates to return to normal levels. This that came after is what made everything different with her. The intimate moments spent touching, feeling, and sharing our emotional connection was my favorite part. I wanted it to last forever.

I eventually pulled away, looking up at her with soft eyes as I brushed her hair back. Part of me suddenly felt guilty for manhandling her the way that I just had.

“I want you to come home with me tonight so I can take care of you. That was rough, I wanna make sure you don’t start hurting from it.”

She gave me a small smile, “It wasn't too much. I'm more than OK. Really.”

I sighed, “Then…just… humor me. Please?”

Her legs tightened around my waist as her smile widened. “And how do you plan to take care of me?” she asked with an amused tone.

I pursed my lips in thought, “Hmmm, well, I’ll make you a fucking fantastic dinner while you relax on the couch and keep Zee occupied.”

She hugged me a little tighter, “Hmmm, I could get behind that.”

My lips found her throat, placing gentle kisses between my words, “Then I’ll run you a hot bath…maybe join you…massage your hips….legs…and feet…make you come again…then have a nice cuddle as we fall asleep.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Speaking of foot massages and coming…”

Busted. I glanced up at her with a sheepish smile, “What of it?”

She caressed my jaw with a smirk, “Did you know what you were doing to me in New York, with the foot rub?”

I snickered, hiding my face in the curve of her neck, “I’m aware that some people can have an orgasm from a foot massage. I had a thing with a massage therapist once and he taught me how to do it. It wasn’t intentional…initially…but then you didn’t stop me, so I just went with it…”

I felt a low chuckle rumbling in her chest, “You little shit.”

I smiled against her skin, “Scold me all you want honey, but you looked like you were about to jump me. I knew it was only a matter of time.”

She laughed against the top of my head, “The underwear selfie took it over the top. I took a screenshot of that, just so you know…”

I couldn’t help the howl of laughter that ripped through me, “I had a feeling you enjoyed that. I took it for you, ya know…and you did not disappoint.”

She hummed out a quiet laugh, “Yeah, that’s the reason the vibrator ended up under my pillow.”

The memory of using said vibrator on her danced through my mind, causing my dick to twitch inside of her. She pulled back to look at me with a smile, “I felt that.”

I shifted and pulled out of her with a groan, “Yeah, I need to get you home before he wakes up again.”

She chuckled as I lowered her to the floor. I took off my robe and wrapped it around her shoulders with a smirk, “You might need that. Can’t have you walking down the hallway naked.”

She shook her head with a smile as she tied it shut, watching me throw on jeans and a t-shirt. I quickly packed up the few items I needed, then motioned for her to lead the way to her dressing room.

There were still people milling around in the hallway. Most seemed oblivious to the activities that had just taken place on the other side of the door, except for Anika, who was standing across the hall chatting with one of the other professional dancers. They were both watching us with odd expressions as we exited my dressing room. I couldn’t help wondering if they heard something.

Kat shocked me a little, noticing their attention, she responded with a wide smile, telling them to have a good evening as she literally strutted down to her dressing room. I followed her with a cheesy grin, never taking my eyes off her. It had to be obvious something just went down, but I sort of didn’t care.

Kat was quick to get changed. She moved around the room to gather up her things, giving me a shy smile every time our gazes met. The electricity was still humming between us at higher levels than normal, and it was driving me insane. I needed her again, but in a different way - softer, slower, and more sensual. I wanted to worship every inch of her body, then wrap her up in my arms and never let go.

Once she was packed up, we made our way out to our vehicles. She followed me home where I did everything for her that I promised I would…and more.

Next: Week 7

Be sure to check out the fun Plant Dad Dieter extra at the end of the A/N.

A/N: Whew! Ok. That one was a beast. I know...I have a problem.

Anyway...so did the Alec thing go down like you thought it would? Are we super pissed at Kat for the way she is handling it? Or do we support her plan of rubbing it all in Alec's face? Trust me when I say he's got more coming to him.

We got a lot of domestic Dieter and Kat (and Zee 🐈‍⬛) this chapter. How do we think each of them is handling things so far? Our poor guy is trying really hard and being super sweet. I want to cuddle him.

We got some new tidbits of information on Dieter during his therapy session. We will get the full story next chapter. Any theories?

Y'all ready for some Instagram Lives? Neither is Dieter. Doesn't mean he won't suddenly be inspired to give it a try a couple of chapters from now though. You'll probably need a tissue for that. 😬

How do we feel about his agent wanting to use Kat for publicity? Did Dieter make the right call on that?

And lastly...sexy time in the dressing room. These two are something else. How long until they are open about their relationship do you think? Can we also take a minute to appreciate Dieter taking charge and showing Kat a little something new? 😂

👉Because I'm a total whore for a good Argentine Tango, I bring you two super sexy videos. The first one in particular heavily influenced the vibes for Dieter and Kat's performance for this chapter.

Video 1 🎥

Video 2 🎥

👉In case you missed the post, I forgot to include the "Plant Daddy Era" t-shirt for SNL in the last chapter. I made sure to give it a mention in this one and also bring you a fun edit. Please enjoy. #PlantsBeforePants😅

CP Taglist: @titlee78 @legendary-pink-dot @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed

@hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin

@cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza

@girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer

@darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions

@myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter

@burntheedges @stevie75 @bunniboo0015 @quicax3 @jackie923

@sherala007 @pastelnap @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @jessthebaker @rebel-held

@gwendibleywrites @senorabond @annalovesflorida @sandaltoesocks @katw474

@txlady37 @inkmonster21 @sunnytuliptime @jeewrites @fifitheragertot

@pasc4lfuzz @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @lizzie-cakes @insomniacdreammerbb

@peepawispunk @pedrostories @dieterbravobrainrotclub

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dancing dieter #sober dieter #soft dieter #cat dad dieter #plant dad dieter #slow burn #closed position series

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lottiies · 5 months ago

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one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x you

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spoonsand · 8 months ago

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RIP RED DEAD CHARACTERS YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED

Dutch- disposable fruity flavoured (mango) vapes, Duolingo

Hosea- rollerblading, old VHS movies, The Sound of Music, ear studs, small hoops, and ear cuffs

Arthur- LED strip lights, therapy, The Joy of Painting

John- Ax body spray, deodorant, those little arm floaties little kids wear in the pool

Mary-Beth- Lego flowers, The Notebook, Pinterest

Tilly- Easter egg hunts, making slime, slumber parties

Karen- Tube/crop tops, jean shorts, weightlifting

Sean- make your own mead kits, TikTok, “kiss me in Irish”, SUNSCREEN

Abigail- AirTags (she would put one on little Jack), Roasting marshmallows, Crime shows/courtroom dramas, Man! I Feel like a woman! By Shania Twain

Uncle- recliner chairs, dog sledding, Wheel of Fortune, Crosswords

Susan- Dark nail polish, cats(I’m 100% sure she’d own either a black cat or a tortishell that would sit on her lap/shoulder), dishwashers

Kieran- Creep by Radiohead, Tv shows about veterinarians, friendship bracelets (with Arthur)

Reverend Swanson- Support groups, The Robert Langdon series (especially Inferno, Angels & Demons), communion wine

Javier- Cards Against Humanity, online sheet music, ear gauges

Molly- Champaign toast anything from bath and bodywork’s, naval AND lip piercing, SUNSCREEN

Bill-sexy firefighter calendars, Grindr, Bumbl, all the dating apps, apples dipped in caramel, jolly ranchers

Charles- IMessage games (mini golf and battleship in particular), those long distance ‘thinking of you bracelets’, 90’s sitcoms

Lenny- The Carpenters, cologne to make him seem grown up, head pats

Trelawney- Harry Houdini, 50-60s movies, smoke bombs, dramatic flares

Strauss- a soul, Nigerian Prince scams, telemarketing

Sadie- gyms, self defence classes, the free Britany movement

Micah- staying in the strawberry jail, toothbrush + paste, good posture

Pearson- small businesses, handmade gifts, trying TikTok recipes

EXTRA

Annabelle- Gwen Stefani, sequins, Fast and the Furious

Jack (young)- The Backyardagains, cocomelon, a little toy train

Jack (epilogue)- Monty Python, skateboarding, swimming

Bessie- Bette Midler look a like contests, growing old, brown eyeliner, SUNSCREEN

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photo1030 · 14 days ago

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 25: As The Wicked Snow Begins to Thaw

Summary: The drama continues up in Colter, pushing Arthur to his breaking point.

*Some of the dialogue in this chapter is not mine but from the game. I’ve also added elements to the original storyline to meld with my own. This is the longest chapter I've written yet at 19K+! It's long but alot of good stuff goin' on!

Warnings: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This fantastic image comes from @sixgunluvr

Special thank you, as always, to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my cheerleader and beta-reader.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter - still in progress but there are a handful of future chapters that were posted ahead of time

Arthur ambles over to Buck, tucking his scarred chin into the fur lining of his heavy blue coat as he walks alongside Dutch out into the blistering cold wind of the Grizzlies. The outlaw flexes his stiff fingers as he listens to Dutch drone on and on about his plan and what they need to do. And the first thing on the gang leader's list is to go looking for Colm O’Driscoll.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” huffs Arthur, his breath frosting in the air in front of his red nose as they stand by the horses, waiting for the others to join them. “Folks here been through enough lately. I know you hate him, Dutch.”

Dutch slices his hand emphatically through the air. “He’s here for us,” he avows resolutely with a nod.

A quiet snort of derision quips out of Arthur’s throat. “I doubt that,” he murmurs, cupping his gloved hands to his lips to blow warm air into them.

Dutch’s eyebrows turn down in irritation as he casts his equally chilly gaze onto Arthur. “No, you just doubt me.” His tone is calm enough, but the challenge is right there, clear as day as he passive-aggressively adjusts his horse’s saddle.

Arthur’s lips pull inward as he mulls over his answer, painfully aware of the line Dutch believes he has crossed. “I would never doubt you, just that you always say revenge is a luxury we can’t afford, Dutch.”

“This ain’t revenge, Arthur. This is the right call. This is about more than revenge and business of long ago. They were talking about trains and detonators in that cabin.” Of course, Dutch is referring to the O’Driscoll’s that had attacked Mrs. Adler and her husband. “Colm always had good information.”

“And you think now is the right time to hit a train?” Arthur rubs Buck’s neck briefly before he pulls himself up into his saddle as the others have made their way over to the hitching post.

“Now, you might fancy living on deer piss and rabbit shit,” chuckles Dutch, “but I’m getting too old for that life.” And Dutch nudges his horse out of camp, with Arthur, Bill, Micah, Lenny, and Javier in tow.

They proceed to push their way southwest, heading towards the frozen lake that sits at the base of these Siberian-like mountains. The horses' hooves plunge deeper into the powdery snow, causing them to stumble here and there as they move along. But these animals are used to the hardship of their masters. Despite extreme heat and polar cold, the jarring sound of bullets raining down and the lightning speed of the getaway, the gang’s horses are an extension of the gang itself, another collection of members, if you will. They are sure of foot and each man would trust their horse with his life.

Scanning the thick blanket of white as they travel, the gang eventually comes upon horse tracks in the snow and they begin to track them along the river.

“I know you don’t think much of my ideas recently, but this is the right move,” Dutch preaches to Arthur as he reaches down to run his fingers over the Count’s neck in reassurance to urge the horse on through the heavy, wet snow.

“Alright,” Arthur agrees tiredly. “You know I always got your back, Dutch.” And he desperately tries to resist a pouty groan from escaping his lips.

“I learned a long time ago, you hit Colm O'Driscoll, you wait for him, and people you love will die.” Dutch’s voice carries that hint of seething fury that most people cringe from when they hear it, lest they draw his ire.

“This feud between you two needs to be put to an end,” insists Arthur.

“It will be,” assures Dutch, waving his hand decisively. “Some things I can forgive, some things I can forget. What he did to Annabelle…” His speech halts for a moment as a painful lump catches in his throat for a moment at the thought of his beloved. “I can’t do neither.” Dutch’s dark eyes burn like coals as his gaze turns forward into the white expanse ahead of them.

“You killed his brother, Dutch,” Arthur reminds him.

“Yes, I did. And I hope the bastards will be reunited soon enough. And that is how this’ll end.”

But suddenly, Dutch’s keen eyes pick up a smoke trail in the distance. Making the educated guess that this is the elusive O’Driscoll camp, they carefully make their way in that direction. And sure enough, they have found what they were looking for.

The rivalry gang has made its nest in what appears to be another mining town that neighbors their own. And although it sits along the river’s edge, it is situated at the bottom of a ridge line. Idiots. It makes them sitting ducks for anyone to find them.

The Van Der Linde men assess the makeshift camp, determining targets and escape routes before splitting up to encircle the O’Driscoll camp. Dutch and Arthur scan the raggedy group of men at the bottom of the hill through binoculars, the cold metal biting into their faces as they watch with interest. And suddenly, Colm himself comes into view. After observing them for a bit, Arthur and Dutch watch Colm ride off in an obvious disgruntled huff.

“He don’t look too happy. Should we go after him?” suggests Arthur, looking over his shoulder to Dutch, knowing full well how much his friend is itching to get his hands on this wretched bastard.

“No, Colm can wait. Best to get some of them outta there.” He lifts his chin towards the broken-down village. “Our needs right now are supplies and equipment. A way outta here,” says Dutch in a moment of clarity. “Everything else can wait, including Colm.”

The group of men proceed to carefully make their way down towards the O’Driscoll camp. The whole exercise is done and over within twenty minutes. Colm may have the numbers in his gang, but Dutch’s boys can shoot with lethal speed and accuracy, which has earned them the deadly reputation that they have. The Van der Linde gang shoots up the little camp with little effort despite being outnumbered, bodies dropping into the snow in bloody heaps.

Once the echo of gunfire ceases to ricochet off the landscape, the boys scavenge the bodies for what they can find, taking pocket watches and other useful trinkets to sell once they leave this area. They begin to tear the run-down place apart trying to find anything about this train that’s coming. And Arthur finds a large amount of dynamite and detonators collected inside one of the buildings.

Bill comes in behind Arthur to inspect the crates that have caught the outlaw’s attention. His bear-paw reaches past Arthur and into the box to pick up a bundle of the deadly material, flipping it over to examine it.

“What do ya think, Bill? Looks good?” Arthur watches as Bill assesses the material, his brows furrowed as if in deep thought.

“Yeah, looks fine,” the burly man finally confirms as he scans the rest of the box. “Smells good. I think we got ourselves a nice little score here.” A prideful smirk breaks across Bill’s face as he carefully sets the lid back upon the crate.

“Let’s keep looking around,” insists Dutch, shifting his weight in the cold as he stands outside watching his men drift from building to building. “If the dynamite is here, they probably have more around that could be useful.”

And oh how right Dutch is. As they continue their search of the small buildings, Micah makes his way over to Dutch, offering up a rolled up scroll.

“Found this on one of “em, Boss.” Micah hands the paperwork to Dutch, watching expectantly as his leader unrolls it to examine the contents.

A spark of gratification flickers within Dutch’s piercing eyes. “Interesting. This is something about the train they was gonna rob.”

As it turns out, these are the plans for a train belonging to Mr. Leviticus Cornwall, one of the largest business magnates in the country. He is a prominent and very rich man, rivaling the likes of Cornelius Vanderbilt and Andrew Carnegie. Dutch lets out a triumphant laugh as he carefully rolls the paper into his hands. It is like a perfectly laid out gift for the Van Der Linde gang: the plans, the dynamite, the ammo. Everything they need to rob this coming train.

“Let’s mount up and head back to camp,” announces Dutch, a smug smile plastered on his face from ear to ear. “I’m proud of you boys! Not a man down!”

“Not bad for some starvin’ down and outs,” Arthur mutters, pleased to finally be heading back to camp and essentially back to you. The last few weeks have been so hard, a constant strain on your relationship. And despite the bickering between you two lately, there is still no place he’d rather be than out of this god forsaken cold and wrapped up in your arms.

“They can pummel us all they like,” declares Dutch. “But we always get back up. That’s who we are. Outlaws for life, fellers.” The words of encouragement elicit hoots and hollers from the other men, excited to see something finally going their way for once.

But despite the prospect of a large score, something sits uneasily in Arthur’s gut as he leads Buck back towards your camp. Arthur’s mind immediately flashes to you and your safety as the gravity of the situation becomes all too clear to him now. It's one thing to live an outlaw life, but another to deliberately put you in danger because of it.

Arthur hadn’t thought of Annabelle in quite some time, the subject being too sore a subject. But having Dutch bring her name up again jolts Arthur’s memory back to life. The vivid and gruesome images of her death still sit in the farthest reaches of Arthur’s mind, images of Colm’s cruelty flashing clear as day. And after what the O’Driscoll’s did to Annabelle, it makes Arthur’s stomach turn sour that it could very well happen to you, as well. And heaven help the entire world if such a thing were to ever happen to you.

“Colm ain’t gonna like this,” he warns Dutch, as they head back up the pass to head home. “Especially if we rob this train, too. He’ll come after us.”

“Of course he will, just like all the rest,” smirks Dutch. “But we’ll just always stay one step ahead, always know where they are before they know where we are.”

Dutch’s arrogance is always nothing short of astounding. But then again, it is that arrogance, that confidence that he carries, that has kept the notorious outlaw’s neck out of the lawman’s noose all these years.

The boys head back, digging in to make haste to get out of the cold when they see someone running off through the trees up ahead.

“Wasn’t that guy at the camp?” Dutch shouts over the howling wind to Arthur.

“Yeah, I think so,” sighs Arthur as he turns Buck off to the right. “Leave him to me.”

“Ok, make your way back to camp,” directs Dutch. “And bring him alive. He could be useful.”

Arthur takes off like a bat out of hell through the snow. The sunlight is quickly fading and casts him and Buck in an ominous red and orange backlight, Buck’s breath heaving out of his nostrils in clouds, making them look like one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse as Arthur chases down the lone rider who begins to dart back and forth in a sad attempt to lose his stalker.

“Leave me alone!” hollers the man, his voice cracking in terror of the large rider mercilessly barreling down on him.

As soon as he is close enough, Arthur’s arm shoots out from his body with a rope, dropping a lasso around the fleeing man and abruptly yanking him from the skittish horse to drop him face first in the snow with an ungraceful thud.

“You don’t need to do this!” he wails, spitting out clumps of snow from his freezing lips as he turns to see Arthur looming over him.

“You’re coming with me,” says Arthur coldly. And he proceeds to hogtie the O’Driscoll and toss him onto Buck’s rump like a deer carcass.

Arthur climbs back into the saddle, giving a quick glance over his shoulder at the sad sight behind him. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Kieran Duffy.”

“Well, Kieran Duffy, I ain’t gonna lie, this is a real bad day for you.” He nudges his spurs into Buck’s side and the two head out back to camp.

Mr. Duffy tries to turn his head to see the fearsome rider, panic settling deeper and deeper with each step the large horse takes. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere you ain’t gonna like.”

“Why? What are you gonna do?”

“Something you ain’t gonna like. So I suggest you save your breath for screaming.” And Mr. Duffy is not sure what is worse, what the rider is saying to him or how he is saying it, as Arthur’s voice is cold and unfeeling as if this were nothing more than a Sunday chore.

“No, please! They didn’t tell me nothing!” The poor man sputters his pleas to Arthur with eyes wide and full of fear, but all they do is irritate his captor even more.

Arthur pitches a hard glare over his shoulder again. “You better shut your mouth, you little shit, or I will shut it for you.”

“I don’t know nothin’! Honest! I don’t want to die!”

“Are you testing me? What did I just say? Because I will break every bone in your body.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Not one more goddamn word. Am I clear?”

“Okay, okay!”

“That’s two bones right there.”

Luckily, this Kieran Duffy is smart enough to close his mouth for the rest of the ride and the banter ceases, as Arthur’s patience is just about to its end. And they eventually make it to camp by nightfall, the lanterns illuminating their refuge in the distance.

“Alight, here we are. Let’s introduce you to the boys,” announces Arthur as he pulls Buck to a halt at the hitching post.

“Don’t hurt me, please!” sobs Kieran, as his trembling body is hauled over Arthur’s broad shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re real nice,” snarks Arthur, tossing the man down in the snow at Dutch’s feet.

“Uncle, Mr. Williamson, tie this maggot up somewhere,” hollers Dutch. The two men quickly grab Mr. Duffy, hauling him to his feet to stand face to face before the gang leader.

“I got a saying, my friend.” Dutch’s voice is as smooth as the finest Tennessee whiskey. “We shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feedin’. We’re gonna find out what you need.”

“I ain’t no O'Driscoll!,” screams Kieran in a panic, his feet spasmodically kicking out from under him as he is whisked away by Uncle and Bill, each with a painful grip on his thin arms. “I hate that feller!”

With today’s adventure now coming to an end, Dutch turns to his second in command. “Well done, Arthur.”

Arthur gives a short appreciative nod. “Sorry we didn’t get Colm.”

“It’s alright. Time enough for that. We gotta see about hitting this train.” The devil’s grin dances along Dutch’s dark features before he disappears into the main building in search of a warm fire and Hosea to begin the next phase of his plan.

Finally finding himself alone in the quiet, Arthur moves to one of the benches to sit a spell to rest his sore and exhausted body.

Upon hearing the commotion of the men returning to camp, you come to stand in the doorway of the main cabin and watch Arthur from across the yard, his broad frame looking even more hulking bundled up in his blue winter coat as he gets this hostage that they brought back situated. The wet snow clings to him, just like everyone and everything else in this world. And yet, he shrugs it off as if it were nothing. Because he doesn’t have time for misgivings. People are counting on him.

Everything about Arthur Morgan is bigger than the world. His stature stands out against the white expanse that engulfs him. The way he carries himself with such knowing and capability compared to the others, it’s so natural as if he doesn’t know how else to be. Everything about him is greater to you: his strength, his loyalty, his heart. But with that comes the flip to the same coin. The fists land harder, the bullets ring more often, and the bounties on his head keep stacking up. The pressure, the responsibility, they also are greater for him than for anyone else. It’s a good thing his back is broad and shoulders strong, for the weight of the world sits upon him.

Since you’ve arrived here in this decrepit mining town, you have been working with Mr. Pearson to try to create meals to sustain everyone. But supplies are low due to your hastened departure from Blackwater and what you do have available is not the best quality, either. Rations are becoming more meager as the larder continues to deplete.

You are quick to note how tired Arthur looks, even from across the yard. He’s been out there too long, doing too much, in your opinion. You currently have two bowls of watery soup in your hands and looking down at them, you discreetly pour one bowl into the other, doubling its paltry contents and set the empty bowl aside.

When Arthur finally sits still long enough, you make your way over to him, treading lightly as you can see he’s still carrying his foul mood.

“Hey you,” you call softly.

His tired eyes lift at the sound of your voice and the tension instantly drains away from his face as he floats you an exhausted grin as he leans back into the rough wooden siding of the building. “Hey, there’s my girl. How you doin’, Sweetheart?”

“I’m alright. Especially now that you’re back. Here, I brought you something to eat.” You hand him the soup bowl as you sit down next to him. “It’s not much, but it’ll put something in your belly.”

He gives you a grateful nod as he carefully takes the bowl with his cold fingers. He brings it up to his face for a quick sniff, before taking the spoon and laddeling some of the soup into his mouth. A small smile of relief dusts your features as you watch him eat, a few droplets of broth catching on his frosted beard.

But Arthur’s brow knits when he notices that you do not have a bowl of your own. “Aren’t you eating anything?”

“I already had a bit when I was cooking.” You try to assure him, but he knows you too well and can see right through you.

An exasperated sigh pushes through his cold nose as he tries to shove the bowl back into your hands. “I ain’t doin’ this.”

You shoot straight up as if a string is pulling your spine. “Arthur-”

“I ain’t takin’ food out of your mouth for myself, Y/N,” he argues. “Ain’t happenin’.”

“You need it, Arthur.” You push the bowl back into his chest in annoyance.

“Y/N-”

“Arthur, I swear to god, I’ll dump this in the snow! Now just stop your foolishness and eat the damn soup.”

He doesn’t argue back when your eyes flash at him. He just hangs his head, his lips pulled inward as he wrestles with his internal demons.

“If we are going to survive this mess, Arthur, we need you strong and with your wits about you.” Your hand lands on his forearm as your tone softens now, exposing your concern. “Because I don’t know if anyone else can do it. So, please. Just eat.”

He lifts his guilt-ridden eyes to meet yours as he looks into your beautiful face. “I can’t be saving everyone else if I’m worried about you, though,” he pouts. “We need you too, you know.”

“I’m alright, I promise. Does it look like I’m starving?” you jest sarcastically as you motion to yourself with a mocking chuckle. But all it does is set him off again.

“Don’t do that. I hate when you do that,” he gripes bitterly.

“Do what?”

“Tear yourself down like that. You’re worth the whole lot of us and then some. Don’t you ever forget that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as a deep sigh escapes you. “I wish you would stop putting me on a damn pedestal all the time,” you mutter as you avoid his stare.

Arthur drops the spoon into the bowl with a loud exasperated huff as the last of his patience has finally been expended. “Listen, don’t give me shit for tryin’ to treat you right. If I had any damn sense at all, I’d get you outta here now, tonight. You’re the only damn good thing I got right now, so will you just let me have this? Please?”

His sapphire eyes burn bright and intense. He is ever intolerant of bullshit. Never has the time for it.

You avert your eyes to your boots, noting how the seams are starting to split, your hands fidgeting and roll over each other.

“I’m hungry but I’m not starving,” you admit quietly, sheepishly looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“I need you to be honest with me, Y/N.” Arthur takes your chin with his thumb and forefinger, making you look him in the eye. He is starting to speak louder and faster now, as he quickly shifts from exhaustion to agitation. “No hiding shit. If you’re in a bad way, you better tell me. Because if anything ever happens to you-”

“I will, Arthur. I promise.” You swiftly place your hands along his chest to quiet him lest he gets worked up yet again. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

And with silent acceptance, Arthur finishes his soup as you lean into his side, your head gently laying against his shoulder as he eats.

You stare out into the purple sky as the last shadows of the sun expire for the day, pulling the moon and the stars in their wake behind them. The temperature continues to dip, causing a shiver to run the length of your body as you snuggle in closer to Arthur. And yet, neither of you dare to move and break the spell of contentment that you have found for this fleeting moment. The two of you may be disconnected, but you’re not alone. Not yet, anyway.

____________________________________

“It's been a bad few weeks. And Dutch being Dutch, he’s busy making plans and Dutch being Dutch, those plans involve robberies and dreams.”

The cabin where John is resting is cold and dark. You’ve kept the moth-eaten curtains drawn over the filthy windows to ward off the drafts as well as keep the sunlight to a minimum. Because of the damage to John's eye from the wolf attack, you are trying to avoid any strain to the good socket as much as possible.

The days here in Colter keep dragging on, and while John was in bad shape when Arthur and Javier found him, he has managed to recover quite well, considering the pitiful circumstances. But of course, Arthur attributes that to you, muttering how John is “damn lucky you’re here”. But you are not 100% sure you agree. You’ve already lost Davey and Jenny, a fact that still eats at your gut more than the hunger. Which is why you are almost obsessively watching over John, making sure his many wounds are clean and stitched, his bandages dry, and is clear of fever. You try to keep him warm and rested with someone always sitting vigil in case he should take a turn for the worse.

Rev. Swanson leans back from John’s pale and trembling body, tucking the syringe back into its case as you stand over them, carefully observing the administration. You are not happy with giving John morphine, the horrible substance being too unpredictable. But given his condition, it will help to alleviate John’s jittery nerves as well as ease his pain. John softly whimpers as the elixir pushes through his veins, rolling his bandaged head to the side, careful to avoid pushing on his damaged eye.

“Thought you were reading him his last rites.” Arthur’s voice resonates into the room as he saunters in to check on everyone. You glance over your shoulder at the sound of his presence, filling you with both a mixture of relief to see his face, yet apprehension at the growing tension between him and John. “Now I see you’re introducing him to your other passion.” He points at the small black case clutched in Swanson’s hand.

“I’ll mind you to show me some respect, Mr. Morgan,” snaps the Reverend, his eyes narrowing at the hulking man as he stands up and adjusts his coat to keep warm.

“Mind away, Reverend,” Arthur smirks dismissively, waving him off as the man exits the room in a mild distemper. Arthur catches your eye and gives you a nod as he casually walks over to the bed where John lays sprawled out under threadbare blankets. “You’re still here, then?” he snarks, tilting his head with a condescending scowl. “Maybe I should scratch myself and feign a limp?”

Mary-Beth stops wrapping up the last of the bandages she used to help you redress John’s wounds and shoves her hands into her lap in frustration, snapping her head towards Arthur. “Ain’t you got nothing better to do, Arthur? Whatever the beef is between you two, now ain’t the time.”

But John seems to pay no mind to Arthur’s jeering. He’s used to it by now after all these years. “I owe you,” sighs John as he peers up at Arthur with his good eye.

“And you’ll pay me. But, for now, just rest.” Arthur taps your elbow and nods over his shoulder, indicating a private conversation is requested. You turn to follow him and take a few steps back from the bed, leaving Mary-Beth to finish cleaning up.

“How is he?” Arthur asks, his voice low as he leans in close to you, a fleck of genuine concern skipping over his face.

“I think he’ll survive unless he throws a fever or something like that,” you confirm, reassuring yourself as well as Arthur as you rub your arm in an attempt at self-soothing. “He’ll probably lose some of his sight in that eye, though.”

A whimsical half grin cracks Arthur’s bearded face. “You only need one eye to shoot with.” His response results in your humorless laugh in return.

But the conversation is interrupted when Dutch abruptly pushes his way into the cabin. “Ah, Arthur, there you are! I’ve been looking for you! I think it’s time for the train.”

The talk of another job sparks John’s interest, flooding his weak body with an energy he hasn’t had in a few days. He manages to roll himself up on his elbow, eager to join the conversation. “Want me to come, Dutch?”

A look of surprise graces Dutch’s dark features for a moment. “Of course I do, John, but look at you.”

“I was always ugly, Dutch. It’s just a scratch.” John shakes his head as he tries to will his broken body to sit up.

“Lie still, son”. Dutch sits down next to the bed and gently pushes John’s shoulder to ease him back down onto the thin mattress.

Before you can even interject with your own opinion about John even thinking of leaving that bed let alone robbing a train, the cabin door opens yet again as Abigail and Jack walk through. The woman walks with an agitation in her step, her expression closed-up and hard to read as she wrestles with her constant worry for John versus her anger at his behavior.

“The boy wanted to see you, John.” Abigail stands with her chin lifted in annoyance as Jack shifts warily behind his mother, peering his little face around her hip to see his father on the bed. The shock of John’s bloodied face resonates into Jack’s view and he quickly casts his eyes away.

“Well, he’s seen me now. Or what’s left of me,” sighs John. “How ‘bout you?”

“Guess I was hoping to see a corpse,” she bites back harshly.

“Bide your time, you’ll see plenty of ‘em.”

But his response sets her off yet again. She was hoping that in his time of weakness, John would show a little compassion and comfort towards his son, to let him know that he appreciates the boy’s concern. But once again, John’s dismissal of little Jack is like a red-hot poker in Abigail's heart. “You’re a rotten man, John Marston,” she hisses as she wraps her arm around Jack to usher him away.

“He’s an idiot, Abigail, we all know it,” Dutch calls after her as she marches out of the cold cabin.

The sight of disappointment on Jack’s red cheeks is finally your breaking point. “You know, John Marston, I really wish you’d put a little more effort into your relationship with them.” You could stab a deer with the look of daggers you are shooting him right now.

But the young outlaw only huffs angrily at you. “And I really wish people would mind their own goddamn business.”

“Is that so?” Your hands plant firmly onto your hips as you stride over to the bed, bending over him with a cold and bitter glower. “Well, if people were minding their own business, you’d still be out there on that damn ledge, a frozen carcass for the scavengers to pick at. Abigail is the one who insisted they go out to find you, you know. Maybe keep that in mind.” You point your finger inches from his face.

When John gives you nothing but a scowl in reply, you roll your eyes and turn on your heel to go after Abigail, slamming the door behind you.

“You really are a stubborn ass, you know that, Marston?” Arthur drags his hand over his tired face.

“Fuck you, Morgan. Don’t you start. You’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at the challenge.

But John locks his good eye with Arthur’s, not afraid to back down. Say what you will about John, but he’s been holding his own with Arthur since he was a kid. “You ain’t got no right to lecture me on being stubborn. I’ve seen how you’ve been pickin’ at Y/N since we left Blackwater. You ain’t no model citizen. Get off your damn high horse.”

The accusation brings Arthur’s shoulders back, squaring up and ready for a fight. “Now, you look here-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” barks Dutch, cutting this off before it escalates out of hand. “Arthur, can’t you see the man is down? Leave him be, for Christ’s sake.”

Outside the dingy cabin, you rush to catch up to Abigail. “Abigail, wait!” Your hand lands on her trembling shoulder, her eyes welling with tears of frustration and concern as you look into her face. “John will be okay, try not to worry.”

“Oh, I am not concerning myself with that fool right now!” Her eyes flash as her body sways back and forth with nervous energy. “It’s Jack I’m worried about.”

“Jack?”

“Yes, Y/N.” Her gaze darts over to land on the little boy who has now wandered aimlessly over towards Mr. Pearson to see what he is cooking for the day. “What if…what if this is all too much for him? What if this running and starving and seeing his daddy ripped to pieces messes him up?” Abigail shakes her head as the tears start to break free from her lashes and slowly streak her cold face.

“He’ll be okay, Abigail.” You rub your hand along her arm and give her a warm smile. “Jack’s a strong boy. He’s got his momma’s smarts and his daddy’s resilience.”

“You think so?” she sniffles.

“Listen, stars shine their brightest when surrounded by the darkness, Abigail. And Jack is the brightest of us, yet. He’ll be okay.”

Abigail takes a long, shuddered breath as she collects herself. “I’m sorry, YN. It’s just…John makes me crazy! What do I do? How can I get him to treat us better?”

Her question breaks your heart. Despite the ever-present resentment she may show John, it is clear she is still deeply in love with the man, whether he accepts that love or not. “You can’t make a man treat you right. But you can sure as hell make him wish he did.”

“How the hell did I ever give my heart to him?” she moans with a watery eye-roll, her lips quivering slightly.

“The heart wants what it wants, Abigail. Can't do nothing about it,” you chuckle softly. “And besides, he’s awfully cute when he’s not being a total jack-ass.”

“Yeah, but Arthur’s not like that.”

“Oh, Arthur can be a total jack-ass, trust me,” you nod. “But I think John acts this way because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. So he figures by not doing anything, he won’t screw it up. And then the shit is on you if it goes wrong, not him. He didn’t have good parents to teach him properly.”

“But Dutch and Hosea raised him, same as Arthur.”

“True,” you admit, “But, Arthur had his momma for a bit. John did not. And I think that made a big difference. Unfortunately, you had men raising men. So don’t be surprised when you get an idiot as the outcome.”

A quick cackle bursts from Abigail at your comment before she covers her mouth, looking at you with playful disbelief.

“Come on, let’s go inside and see if Ms. Grimshaw has any of that horribly bitter coffee left on the stove.” You loop your arm through Abigail’s to head off to the main cabin together. But when you see Dutch and Arthur pushing out of the small cabin again, you pause to see what’s happening now. “Go on ahead, Abigail. I’ll be right behind you.” You smile as you usher her towards the door.

“Gentleman! Now is the time!” Dutch declares to everyone within earshot with his arms spread wide to his sides like the messiah. “Bill! Ride ahead and set the charge at the water tower, just before the tunnel.”

“Ain’t a problem!” agrees Bill as he sprints to the barn to collect the dynamite and detonators that he and Arthur found at the O’Driscoll camp.

“Why are we doing this?” asks Hosea in exasperation as he approaches Dutch, his labored breath whirling in the cold air. “Weather is breaking, we should leave. I thought we was lying low?”

A measured puff of air pushes out of Dutch’s nose. “What do you want from me, Hosea? We’re lying low but not living. We need money and all of ours is in Blackwater. You fancy you want to head back there?”

“No.” Hosea pauses for a moment, his gaze falling to the snow before skipping back up to Dutch. “I ain’t trying to undermine you, Dutch. I just don’t want anymore people dying, is all. Just want to stick to the plan. Lie low and head back west.” This is a comment that grabs your attention as you stand off to the side witnessing this whole discussion.

“What choice have we got?” Dutch says simply, his hands laid out in expectation.

“Leviticus Cornwall is no joke, Dutch.” Hosea’s tone turns serious and dark, carrying the concern well-earned of a man of his years.

“Well, sounds to me like he’s got more than enough.” Dutch gives his old friend that mischievous look that Hosea knows all too well before turning to address the gang once more. “Gentleman! Let’s all go and make something of ourselves! Get your horses ready, we have a train to rob!” And the men scatter to their respective tasks, an air of excitement amongst them as they move. But Hosea and Arthur share a quick look of doubt between them before Arthur heads over to his horse.

Shock and dismay rocks you to your core as you stand in the snow listening to the three of them. Your stomach turns at the thought of this plan. You came from a railroad town when you met Arthur and you are also well aware of who Leviticus Cornwall is. So you have a pretty good idea how this whole thing could go down.

The moment Dutch walks away, you dart towards the horses. Your hand shoots out to Arthur’s arm, pulling him aside. He gives you a look of confusion at your sudden appearance and your face instantly up in his. “Have you all lost your damn minds?!” Your eyes blaze intensely at him. “We’re up here freezing and barely hanging on because of one over-reaching plan and now you’re fixing to do another?!”

Arthur takes a quick glance around to see if anyone else has seen your little tantrum before he addresses it himself. “That’s how it goes,” he shrugs as if it were nothing more than heading to town for supplies.

“How it goes?!” Your hand flies to your forehead as your heartbeat thunders in your ears.

Arthur’s eyes turn icy despite his face flushing red with irritation as his fists flex slightly. “Let me worry about that,” he warns. “You just mind the people here.”

“I’m worried for you, Arthur.” You step up even closer to him, cupping his cold cheeks in your hands. “Who do you think Dutch is going to march up there, front and center? Surely not his ass!”

Arthur collects your hands into his own, giving them a slight squeeze as he pulls them from his face. Guilt floods his chest as he registers the fear in your eyes. But what can he do? Dutch calls and it is his obligation to obey. “I ain’t got time for this now, Y/N.” His gravelly voice is low and soft for you. “Just stay put and out of the way.” You can see in his eyes the unspoken ask for forgiveness, the idea of keeping you protected paramount in his mind.

Your shoulders slump in defeat, knowing there is nothing you can say or do to prevent this from happening. When he sees you’ve quieted down, Arthur pulls you in to him to place a brief kiss to your temple before slinging himself up into Buck’s awaiting saddle. He gives you a quick nod before leading Buck off to follow the others who have already started to head out of the camp.

You stand alone in the snow as you watch them all head out, the wind picking up to lift the few strands of hair from your face. That all-too familiar feeling of dread swirls in your chest like a maelstrom. And all you can do is pray that Dutch has a solid enough plan and everyone else does their part so that Arthur doesn’t have to take the brunt of it all.

___________________________________

*This is another fantastic image by @sixgunluvr

You have never been this far north before, never been in such a desolate landscape. Growing up back east outside of Boston, there was always somewhere to go, always shelter, food or help if needed. But here, in the Western Grizzlies, there is no one and nothing. It is both freeing, and terrifying. Everyone else in the gang is on edge, for sure, but their countenance is separate from yours. Most of them have lived this way for a good part of their lives. You, on the other hand, are almost paralyzed like a deer, afraid to move in either direction and you’re trying not to bolt in a million different directions out of panic. You would die within days here if it weren't for Arthur.

The landscape is cold and frigid, yet beautifully peaceful. Enticingly quiet yet deceptively deadly. You wonder to yourself if this will be where you meet your end. Looking about, will this be the final thing you see when your eyes close for the last time? At this very moment, you want nothing more than to lay down on the soft, pillowy snow and just let go and let it all be over. No more strain, no more hunger. No more cold and freezing temperatures. No more looking over your shoulders. No more running. What if you just set yourself down and gave in?

It would be easy enough to do, considering how fast you’d freeze to death. Beautiful and deadly diamonds that glitter are everywhere you look, an endless sea of white, calling like the deadly sirens of Greek mythology. It is so desolate and silent here. No sounds to be heard, rarely even a bird. Just the whistling winds that swoop down from the mountaintop. The silence is a relief from the chaos, giving one time to settle their thoughts. But it is also terrifyingly lonesome. The mountains offer you protection, but they also keep you isolated.

The dark and foreboding mountains are like the teeth of the earth, jagged and dangerous, and as you sit in the middle of them, they swallow you as if you were nothing. The earth is a beautiful creature, elegant by design. But like any other creature in nature, she can be alluring and graceful one moment, and then turn on you in defense of herself in deadly fashion, evidence being how the mountains begin to swallow the sun, like a serpent devouring a bright yellow egg. The shadows of the mountain begin to stretch across the snow, like a bobcat’s claws.

Despite being a collective group, you are all isolated from the world here, left only to rely on each other. And you can only hope that each other will be enough.

Thankfully, the robbery of the Cornwall train managed to go off with minimal error. The gang didn’t lose anyone and no one came back with more holes in their body than what they left camp with. While it was not overwhelmingly lucrative, Arthur did manage to find a large stash of bonds that Dutch found valuable. So with a little more in the camp’s funds, you are hoping that will keep Dutch off Arthur’s back for a bit.

You wander to the edge of the small lake on the edge of the camp, nudging the slushy mess with the toe of your boot before lifting your eyes up to the expansive vista once more. These thoughts of yours are dangerous. You question the gang and your purpose within it. You question yourself and your worth. You begin to question Arthur.

And the thoughts terrify you. You feel as if it is an act of betrayal, whether vocalized or not. Your love for Arthur is larger than the endless sky and deeper than the bluest ocean. But what if this is all for nothing? After these last few weeks of tension, what if his love for you is cooling down like the arctic winds that are currently lifting the wisps of hair from your chapped cheeks? He wouldn’t do that, would he?

But you shake your head at such dangerous nonsense. Arthur loves you. You know it. You feel it. Just because you cannot wrap yourselves up together like love-drunk teenagers in a summer meadow doesn’t mean everything that has led to this point has stopped. You have to trust in him. You have to open your heart and trust that he will always be there with open arms to welcome you.

With a cleansing sigh, you begin to hum to yourself. It’s a silly little thing that you do when preoccupied. The melodies always touch Arthur’s heart when he catches you doing it. They calm him like a snake-charmer. You always murmur soft words and hum gentle music to yourself, not even aware that you are doing it.

Your thoughts are disrupted when you catch Lenny out of the corner of your eye heading to the water’s edge with a fishing pole in his gloved hand and an axe swung up upon his shoulder.

“What in the hell are you up to, Mr. Summers?” you inquire with curiosity.

He flashes you a toothy smile. “Gonna try my hand at ice fishing.”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion, not sure you heard him correctly. “Ice fishing?”

“Yeah. Can’t be that hard, right? Hardest part is cutting the hole, I reckon,” he shrugs.

When you don’t answer him with anything but a scowl of skepticism, Lenny sighs.

“Look, I know it’s not a great idea, but we need to eat. That deer that Arthur and Charles brought back won’t last much longer and who knows how long we’ll be up here.”

“Just be careful,” you concede, not entirely convinced this is even a good idea let alone a great one.

You watch the young man adjust the axe over his shoulder and tentatively head out onto the icy lake. He tests the frosted surface with calculated steps, slow and steady, until he gets far enough out to cut through. He begins to make several hacks into the ice, chips flying in the air with each cut. When Lenny gets a hole that he’s happy with, he sets the blade down next to him and grabs the fishing pole to set the bait onto the hook. And within a few minutes, he carefully plunks the end of the line into the icy depths of the water, shaking the pole a bit to entice whatever fish may be lurking below.

But an odd sound begins to permeate the otherwise quiet, cold air. You know what that sound is, but can’t quite place it. It quickly turns into a groaning noise that begins to travel across the ice. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, trying to determine where exactly it’s coming from, as it seems to be coming from all around, when a loud crack snaps your attention. Things thrust into motion in a fraction of a second when one moment Lenny is standing in front of you, and the next he disappears through the ice, plunging into the frigid waters.

“Lenny!!!”

Your scream echoes off of the snow and buildings, alerting everyone in camp. But your body explodes into motion before your mind can even comprehend what you’re doing and you dart off towards him.

“Y/N, get back here!” Arthur shouts from the shore as his whole body goes rigid at the sight of you running out onto the ice, but your eyesight is locked on Lenny. “Damn it!” he shouts again when it’s abundantly clear that you will not be stopping, despite his command.

You only make it a few yards out onto the ice when you hear the arctic groaning beneath your feet. You stop dead in your tracks, arms waving in the air to keep yourself from falling flat on your face, and scan the icy floor to try to determine if it will give way under you as well. But Lenny’s panicked yelling snaps your attention forwards again and you immediately drop to your stomach to begin crawling across the cracking ice.

Panicked and frustrated beyond human comprehension, Arthur is about to run out after you. But Dutch is quick to grab his shoulder pulling him to a dead stop. “Arthur, wait!”

Arthur reflexively shoves Dutch’s arm off him, trying to wrench himself free of the older man’s iron grasp. “Damn it, Arthur, stop!” hollers Dutch, trying to drill some common sense into him as he grabs a fistful of his jacket in an attempt to halt the man once more. “You run out there, you’ll fall in too, and drown the whole lot of you!”

The very idea of it halts Arthur in place as he blinks rapidly into Dutch’s face. But he knows his mentor is right. And all Arthur can do is stand there helplessly as he turns his face back to the lake to watch you inching across the ice.

“Son of a -” curses Arthur, trying to think what, if anything, he can do to help you. Adrenaline shoots painfully throughout his system as he just simply cannot sit idly by and do nothing while you creep along death’s door. Suddenly, Arthur gets an idea and he races over to the nearest shed to grab a bundle of rope.

“Y/N! Help me, please!” Lenny screams, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his head above the frigid mountain water.

“Hold on, Lenny! Hold on, I’m coming to get you!” you holler over the sound of the sloshing water. You can see the panic setting in on the young man’s face, the whites of his eyes rolling back against his dark skin.

“Y/N!” Arthur calls out, desperate to get your attention. Finally, you acknowledge him and turn over your shoulder just in time to see Arthur toss a rope out to you. Amazingly, Arthur is able to place the rope within a foot of your grasp. Your hand quickly shoots out to grab ahold of the bundle. You look up to gauge Lenny’s situation, realizing that you need to act quickly, so you tie the rope around your ankle so that you don't risk dropping it and freeing your already freezing hands.

You gingerly crawl across the ice as it creaks and cracks under you as you move and the closer you get to Lenny, the more anxious he becomes, desperate to be out of the water.

“Y/N!” Lenny reaches an arm out, his long fingers trying to reach for you.

“You need to stay calm, Lenny! Come on, stay with me now!” After what feels like hours, but only mere minutes, you finally reach the young man. He grapples at you, trying to use you to pull himself up. “Careful!” you screech. “You’re gonna pull me in with you!” You try to control his flailing arms, and gingerly wrap your arms under his and clamp them together behind his back. But he is desperately grabbing at you, terrified of falling deeper into the dark, icy water.

“I got him! Pull us out!” you holler back over your shoulder to Arthur.

“Bill! Get over here and grab this rope and help me pull ‘em in!” Arthur yells over to said man.

“I got ya!” Bill rushes over as his giant hands take up the tails of the rope when he stands next to Arthur.

The sun is crawling behind the horizon line and darkness has started to encroach on the mountainside. Arthur is beginning to have a hard time seeing you clearly, barely able to see your water-soaked forms struggling in the water, but the sound of your combined panicked shouts and the thrashing of the water cuts deep into Arthur’s brain, causing a sickening boulder to lodge in his stomach.

They begin to pull the rope, heaving it back towards the shore. The strength of the two burly men is enough to drag Lenny out of the water and the two of you along the surface of the ice. The cold of the ice beneath you creeps into your bones, causing your whole body to shiver as you are drug slowly across its plane. You can hear Lenny whimpering in your ear as you hold him close to you, your arms cramping from the vice grip you have around him.

The frigid lake water seeps into the snow under you, sponging its way into the ice as you slide along the surface. Fine threads begin to crack and embed themselves into the cold surface. As you are being pulled along at an agonizingly slow rate, you hear the ice begin to groan and creak loudly underneath you. The cold fissures begin to snap and pop loudly all around you once more, the familiar sound alerting you to what is about to happen, giving you no time to prepare. And your chest fills with immediate dread at what you are certain is about to come. You have but a mere moment to toss a terrified look over your shoulder to Arthur on the shore, your eyes briefly meeting the fear in his, before it happens.

Time stops and the world along with it the moment the ice gives way again and Lenny plunges into the freezing water once more, dragging you in along with him.

It’s like someone has punched a hole into his chest and grabs his heart with a crippling grip when Arthur sees you disappear from his view beneath the dark watery surface.

“Y/N!!” His voice echoes off snow in a cacophony of sound. He is a man incensed as once again Arthur tries to run out onto the lake as fear of losing you consumes him. And once again he is wrestled back, only this time it takes both Dutch and Bill to contain him.

The ice water is like a thousand knives stabbing your entire body all at once. You immediately gasp at the shock of the dramatic temperature change that assaults your senses. You try to keep yourself afloat while also trying to grab Lenny, who is simply beyond distraught at this point. In sheer panic, Lenny tries to use you to keep himself above the water but Lenny’s dead weight almost drowns you as his heavy limbs push you down underneath him into the water. You flail your arms wildly trying to find something to latch your frozen fingers to, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen to the tender organs. Panic begins to seep in as the water is so dark that you cannot see to tell which end is up. From some far off distance, you hear your name hollered into the air, the sound of Arthur’s terrified voice muffled by the murky water filling your ears.

It isn't until your hand smacks into the sheet of ice above your head that you can get your bearings. Your fingers break through the icy water surface to grab onto the ice. The sharp edge of the sheet of ice cuts into your hand as you clamp onto it for dear life. Feeling the air once more, you haul yourself upwards, gasping for breath once your face clears the surface.

Arthur exhales sharply when he sees your head above the surface once again, his eyes darting back and forth as he watches you try to breach the watery surface to breathe in the air. Relief descends upon him with incredible force, but it is short-lived, as you still have to make it back to dry soil yet and back to him.

You cough violently as you try to replace the frigid, filthy lakewater in your burning lungs with the equally cold air, vomiting up what feels like a waterfall before the stars in your vision clear and you can see again.

Lenny!

Your mind immediately goes to your friend once again once your wits are about you. By the grace of God, he is still next to you, but his face is just barely breaching the water surface. You frantically grab the collar of his shirt, clutching him to you once more.

With stiff fingers, you manage the presence of mind to slip the rope off your ankle and tie it around Lenny’ chest. The young man can hardly move now, his extremities frozen as hypothermia begins to set in.

He turns his frosted cheeks to look in your eyes. “I…can’t…can’t feel my legs, Y/N” he chatters. His voice carries the fading signs of hope that he will survive this mess, and it breaks your heart.

“Hold on, Lenny. I got you. We’ll do this”, you encourage him, trying to nod with certainty. Your gaze holds his with a commanding presence, fully refusing to give up.

You swim to maneuver yourself behind him, wrapping your body around Lenny’s and draping yourself over his back. “Pull!” you scream to the shore again. “For god’s sake, Arthur, pull the damn rope!” Your voice is a hoarse, desperate cry that unsettles Arthur’s very core.

The two men haul on the rope to drag you and Lenny out of the water once again, your faces scraping across the numbingly-cold surface when you are no longer able to hold your heads up and the snow builds up under your chests like a wedge. It makes you even colder than you thought possible. You whimper as ice shards painfully slice into your face, biting into your flesh like fleas. When they get you close enough to the water’s edge, Bill and Arthur run out onto the ice to grab you both.

Bill, Javier and Rev. Swanson scramble to get Lenny to the cabin house to the fire, while Arthur is quick to scoop you up, holding you tightly to his chest as he carries you in behind them. Dutch marches to the front of the group, leading the way with a lantern and opens the door for everyone.

Once inside, the rest of the group moves like a flock of birds suddenly startled and set to flight. People scatter to find blankets and coats, dry clothing and hot food and beverages. They take Lenny straight to the fire in the great hearth, the flames stoked high to generate as much heat as possible. Arthur, on the other hand, pulls you aside, away from the chaos, and carefully sets you down in front of the pot-belly stove in the middle of the room. He reaches into the coal bucket that sits next to the cast-iron beast and tosses another chunk of the black rock into its belly before turning his full attention back to you.

With everyone in a flurry over Lenny, Tilly notices the two of you and is quick to rush over, eager to assist Arthur, but he shrugs her off.

“Nevermind, I got this,” he grumbles over his shoulder to his adopted sister as he yanks the blanket out of her hands. “Go on, go help with Lenny.” He waves dismissively to her, trying to avoid the look of shock on her cherub face. Tilly simply stands there, not sure what to do. She wants to help you, to be useful and to do something for you, but she is very aware of Arthur’s foul temperament and knows better than to push back against him. Her eyes flick up to yours with a silent apology before she turns away to make her way over to help Ms Grimshaw.

But Arthur doesn’t mean to be so abrupt with the poor girl. She only wants to help and he knows that. But Arthur is just so protective of you right now. His whole body is heated with a churning vortex of emotions that he cannot even begin to name. He doesn’t want anyone or anything coming between you two as you sit helplessly before him, a shivering, water-logged mess.

Arthur immediately begins to yank your layers of clothing off, pulling harshly at the cold and soggy fabric before hypothermia sets in. His fingers work at a frenzied pace, desperate to get you warm before you fall ill. He is indifferent if anyone around you should see your skin, couldn't care any less for “propriety”. Let anyone dare to make a comment about your state of undress and it will be the very last words that person will utter.

Once the clammy, frigid fabric is removed from your poor body, Arthur shucks off his blue coat and bundles you up in it, the fur collar swallowing your red frozen cheeks. Once he has your torso wrapped up for warmth, he pulls his gloves off and tosses them down next to him in a rage to free his fingers so he can start pulling at your boots. A person’s extremities are the first to go in cold weather like this, so he’s worried about the condition of your feet.

You study your beloved’s face carefully as he avoids eye contact, an angry scowl etched into his face as he moves about, his movements stark and jostling. You notice the lines of tension around his eyes, his lips drawn into a thin line. His whole body trembles with something on the verge of being volcanic. Your eyelashes flutter as you try to keep yourself from crying over the guilt you have for putting him through this.

“H…Ho…How’s L…Lenny?” you croak, your voice sounding brittle and broken.

Arthur’s keen eyes briefly dart to yours, barely able to understand you over the loud chatter of your teeth. “He’ll be fine, thanks to you,” he barks, leaning forward as the outlaw’s large hands rub along your arms to entice the blood circulation again, praying it will be enough to heat you up quickly. “But nevermind about that now. Worry about your own damn self.”

You instinctively recoil, pitching him a speechless, incredulous look.

“Don’t look at me like that, Y/N,” Arthur snaps, his jaw clenching tightly as he works. “Now, I mean it. Let’s get you taken care of before you start fussing over Lenny.”

“Arthur-“

“Y/N, don’t fight me on this!” he barks at you again, his eyes burning intensely with unbridled anger as he shakes his head. “Don’t you ever, ever do anything like that again. Hear me? Don’t you ever go charging out onto ice like that.” His emotions, his fear, have a tight grip on him and have finally come to spill over, unable to be contained within his burly frame.

Hearing Arthur’s voice raised above the swirling chaos of voices and activity catches Ms. Grimshaw’s shrewd attention. Her shoulders tense as she takes in a sharp breath when she notices him looming over you in your fragile state. The matron quickly crosses the room to come to your defense, her face drawn into a sharp, disapproving frown.

“Mr. Morgan, I would strongly advise-” Her tone is threatening but Arthur is in no mood for one of her lectures right now.

“Stay outta this!” he hollers back at her, causing the older woman to freeze in her tracks, eyes wide and mouth gaped. But he couldn’t care any less about offending the old crone before returning his attention back to you.

“I don’t know where your damn head was at. Not even thinking, just running,” he fumes as he takes your red, chapped hands into his own. Like a school child, your eyes quickly blink back the shameful tears that threaten to break free from your lashes. You risk another glance at Arthur’s face, fearful of the disapproval in his eyes.

But taking a step back from the situation, you notice not so much the anger in Arthur, but the fear. His fear that you were hurt, his fear that you could be gone forever. You are well acquainted with that fear because you feel it yourself every single damn time he leaves you for another job or mission. But the difference is, you have never had to witness that danger with your own eyes. You have never had to look Death in the face and watch the specter’s hands grapple for your love right in front of you.

Arthur continues to chaotically fuss over you, snatching up his gloves and roughly shoves them onto your hands in scared, panicked frustration. The force with which he shoves them onto your hands causes you to cry out with a sad little whimper, and he stops dead in his tracks, finally stopping for one damn second to really take you in. His eyes bolt to your face, terrified that he’s hurt you more than you are. He watches a hot tear slowly run down your cheek, the only thing of heat in your body right now.

Arthur takes a deep, steadying breath for a moment. Softening only slightly, he collects your face with both of his large hands so that you have to look at him, his thumb wiping away the salty tear.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be…I just…” His mind scrambles trying to find the words to tell you what aches in his rapidly-beating heart. “Jesus, I almost lost you, sweetheart. Do you know that?”

“You almost lost both of us,” you correct with a sniffle. You turn your head just enough to catch sight of Lenny. He is shivering violently, with blankets being piled on him. Javier is helping him into dry clothing. Susan is buzzing about, making hot beverages, either coffee or tea and shoving it into his frozen hands. The whole sight is a sad state of affairs.

You turn back to look at Arthur, sharing a silent conversation of dread between you. He pulls your head into his chest to cradle you, both to keep you warm and to hold on tight, lest he risk losing you again.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he mumbles to your unspoken statement.

That night, wrapped up in a blanket like a newborn babe, Arthur carries you to your room in the other cabin that you share with Dutch, Molly, and Hosea. Your feet and legs burn from possible frostbite and Arthur won’t let you walk until you have more stability to you.

Once inside, he carefully sets you upon the bed before moving about to close the doors and securing the building against the night air. Another two logs are delicately laid in the hearth of the fireplace, stoked to keep the ruby coal glowing for another few hours.

Arthur keeps a watchful eye on you, though, those crystalline blue eyes of his ever so vigilant. Your eyes grow increasingly heavier as you watch Arthur peel away his coat and toe-off his snowy boots before crawling into the bed with you. A sign of relief escapes your chest when the bed sags from his weight as he settles in along your side. For the last few days, you have been like passing ships in the night. But tonight, Arthur isn’t taking anything for granted.

Arthur straightens the threadbare blankets, shuffling himself in to lay next to you. His arm securely tucks you against him to sleep, your body cradled to him as he offers you his body heat. He needs to feel you against him, to know you are safe. The safest place for his woman to be is wrapped up into his burly arms, guarding you against the cruel world outside your shabby little room. For him, your relationship is not complicated: you look after him, he looks after you. That has always been your deal. And he will uphold that promise, tooth and nail, until he draws his last breath on this earth.

Exhaustion finally wins the battle over your senses and you tightly curl up against Arthur, still shivering slightly from the icebath. Your cheek lays over his heart, its hypnotic beating lulling you into a comforted state to allow your body to relax. His face twists up slightly with a stuttered exhale escaping his cold nose as he squeezes you to him, holding you against him as if someone would come and take you away. The quiet darkness of the evening wraps around the two of you as the melody of the crackling woodfire sings you its lullaby. Arthur offers you a peace like none other and it is here that you find your bliss, despite the ugliness that tries to tear your mind apart.

The constant shivering has left your body aching and drained. And while the color has returned to your skin, Arthur is still worried over you. He is desperate for that feeling of fire that burns within you, that spark that made him absolutely crazy for you; to feel the heat of you when he wraps himself up into your very soul.

Your group has always lived with the fear that every day could be your last day on this Earth. But the reality that he almost lost you today is too much for Arthur to bear. His broken mind just cannot wrap around that very concept. And now that the Pinkertons are hot on your tails hunting the gang, the harsh reality of life’s fragility is all too real and, unfortunately, the odds are ever increasing against the entire gang.

Your fingertips absentmindedly twist the worn fabric of the collar of his shirt as you lay against him. The only sound in the tiny room is the popping of the fire, Arthur’s heartbeat in your ear and your deep, labored breathing.

“What are we going to do, Arthur?” Your frail voice slices the calm air and drifts up to his ears, barely an angel’s whisper. It pains him to hear you so defeated, so worried, a fraction of the vivacious spirit that you usually carry.

“I don’t know, Sweetheart,’ he sighs. And for the first time ever, you can hear the doubt and vulnerability in Arthur’s tone. “But we can’t fix our problems using the same thinking that created ‘em.”

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*This images comes from @rita-the-outlaw

The next day is filled with new energy. Dutch has decided it’s time to start thinking of moving out of Colter. The gang has lingered long enough to shake the law, but has now caught the attention of the O’Driscoll gang. And with a viper like Colm O’Driscoll lurking nearby, you don’t want to be caught unprepared. You personally haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with Mr. O’Driscoll, but from what you’ve heard, he is not someone that you want to make an enemy of.

Your body is still recovering from your fall into the ice water, so Arthur is insistent that you stay inside and bundled up for the day. And while you feel a bit of guilt for not carrying your fair share of the weight of chores, you agree to stay put. The girls have been sweet to come and check on you and bring you food and drink. Mary-Beth brought you one of her books to keep you occupied and Tilly sat for a few games of dominoes. Even Jack came to sit with you. It warmed your very soul when he curled up in bed with you, resting his little head against your chest while you read a few short stories to him.

And despite being pulled in a million directions, Arthur made it a point to check on you every spare second that he could. It may have been cumbersome, but it did settle his nerves to lay his eyes on you to confirm that you are still alive and breathing and getting better with each visit.

When evening falls once again, you need a change of scenery and find the energy to bring yourself out of your room to sit in the common area of the cabin to wait for Arthur’s return. At the rattling of the rickety door-knob of your room, Hosea looks up from where he’s huddled over by the fireplace. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s getting too old for harsh weather like this. His coughing and chest pain have been kicking up lately, the dry, frigid air wrenching havoc on his lungs. But Hosea’s mind is still ever-so sharp, making him a key player to this gang. So he will offer his counsel, do what he can, but often needs to retire to the safety of the fires.

Hosea’s kind and tired eyes twinkle a bit at the sight of you up and about, a bit of fatherly relief settled over his old heart to see you. He leans over to stoke the fire a bit, tossing on another few logs, and makes room for you to settle yourself down in front of the fireplace next to him with a blanket tucked around your shoulders.

You drop down to the chair with a slight groan and let out a comfortable sigh as your muscles relax into their new-found position. You and Hosea sit in a comfortable silence for a bit, both staring into the hypnotic flames of the fireplace. The smell of the fire and its radiating warmth washes over you as you give in to it.

“How you doin’, girl?” Hosea asks softly, bringing his cigarette up to his lips.

“Alight, I suppose,” you hum. “Better than some.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he nods. “Arthur giving you trouble?” He raises an eyebrow at you, his fatherly tone poised as if he’s about to scold someone.

“No,” you smile back at him. “He’s just…’Arthur’. You know?”

A soft chuckle crosses his weathered lips. “Yeah,” he sighs. ”I know.”

A darkness suddenly settles over your brow. With Hosea, you feel comforted and free to confess your troubled thoughts. For who better to understand Arthur, than Hosea?

“I worry about him so much, Hosea,” you breathe out, the pain and worry wrapped around each syllable you utter.

“Don’t fret over him,” Hosea replies simply with a slight, dismissive wave of his hand. “He’ll be fine. He always is.”

But although he is trying to put your mind at ease, his answer just perplexes you even more. “People keep telling me that,” you shake your head. “But what if he isn’t, Hosea?” You turn your watery eyes from the fire to meet his watchful gray ones. “What then? A man can only do so much. I mean, what do we do if Arthur isn’t alright?”

Your statement stuns Hosea as he simply looks at you with no answer to offer you. For you have just brought to light the very concern that is harbored deep within all of you.

But as soon as the words cross your lips, you immediately feel a pang of regret as you see the concern and worry wash over Hosea as well. Hosea Matthews may be a long-harden outlaw, but he is still an aging man, one with ailments and health conditions that no one in the gang wants to directly address. When you lost your own father before joining the gang, you filled that hole in your heart with the man sitting next to you. And you will protect him as much as possible, just as he would do for you.

“Don’t mind me, Hosea”, you offer softly. “I’m just a silly woman. Caught up in the turmoil, I suppose.” You try to chuckle and shrug off the ominous cloud that hangs over the room. You look down at your hands folded haplessly in your lap.

But Hosea doesn’t scold you. If anything, he appreciates your warmth and compassion for everyone in the gang, especially for his son who probably needs it the most.

“Arthur’s a lucky man to have such a woman fuss over him. When he forgets to love himself, I think you love him twice as much to make up for it. I look at you and it makes me miss my Bessie.”

Your bottom lip quivers as you try your damnedest not to cry. That is the greatest compliment Hosea could have given you, knowing how beloved the woman was to everyone who knew her. You reach over and wrap your fingers around his wrinkled hand, squeezing it slightly, and then you both return to your shared, comforted silence in front of the fire.

When the night sky has gone black as ink and Arthur still hasn’t come in, your eyelids begin to droop so you politely say good night to Hosea and head back to your little ramshackle room to turn in for the night.

Moving at a languid pace, you heat up some snow for some warm water to wash up with before bed. Between the cold mountain temperatures and not being near a town with a bath house, cleansing has been hard to come by since your stay here in Colter, but you try to make sure you are clean. The modest fire dances in the fireplace and takes the chill out of the room just enough to disrobe in sections as you wipe your body down with the damp cloth.

Arthur eventually comes into the cabin with a hardened look and a grumble under his breath. He kicks the snow off his boots and ambles over to sit next to Hosea, plopping himself down to warm himself a bit.

Hosea says nothing, simply watching the younger man maneuvering about, giving him a few moments before he starts in on him.

“You need to take better care of your girl,” scolds Hosea, the frown lines on his already wrinkled face cutting deep and menacingly.

Arthur’s eyebrows arch in surprise before releasing a dismissive snort.

“I take care of her just fine. She’s alright”, he grumbles.

Hosea pitches him a disappointed and quiet look. “Jesus, you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, you’re old”, scoffs Arthur with a lofty eye roll.

The comfortable banter gives Hosea a chuckle. Arthur is a grown man, well into his 30’s, even considered ‘old’ himself by some standards. And yet, the look of disappointment from his ”father” never does sit well with him. And Hosea’s right too. He’s been a right miserable bastard these last few weeks and especially to you, his treasure, his love.

Arthur sits quietly in contemplation, his fingers absentmindedly rolling a cigarette between his fingers as he stares into the fire, his thoughts swirling like the flames in front of him.

Arthur lets out a long tired sigh and slowly drags himself up, grabbing a few more pieces of fresh-cut wood, and heads to your bedroom door.

“Hey,” Arthur pauses and calls over to Hosea, who looks up from the fireplace. “Thanks, ‘sea”

The old man waves him off with a smile and goes back to his peace and quiet.

With an arm full of wood for the little fireplace, Arthur nudges his shoulder into the door to enter your room. He grumbled when he found out you took the smaller room in the cabin upon arrival in this shriveled little mining town. But you had done so knowing it would be the easiest to heat. And your gamble proved to be right. The room has a soft, gold glow about it and the heat from the small fireplace takes the chill out of the frigid Colter air nicely.

He pauses to take a look around and notices you’ve been fixing up the place while he’s been otherwise occupied. The floor has been swept of dirt, and the strings of cobwebs that tethered to the ceiling have been brushed away. Your personal things are neatly stacked in the corners, your coats and scarves and such line the one wall to keep dry. The rickety-old bed has been made up with your blankets, the edges turned down like a hotel. You have made this little shack cozy. You even managed to scavenge some curtains from other buildings and made a makeshift privacy curtain behind which you are currently bathing yourself.

“Arthur? Is that you?” Your honey-sweet voice carries softly, mingled with the crackling of the fire, when you hear the door close, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Yeah, it’s me. You doin’ alright in here?”

“Sure. Just cleaning up a bit.”

Making his way across the room, Arthur sets the wood down and stokes the fire, wiping his hands on the sides of his pants before heading over to you. He can hear you humming a delicate tune as he approaches, a melody swirling to meet his ears. With a cigarette dangling expertly from his lips, Arthur pulls back the fabric with two fingers and peeps around the curtain. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of your delicate skin being exposed

A soft smile tugs at his pillowy lips at the serene sight. “Hey, you.”

When you turn your cheek to meet his gaze, your smile in return is like the morning sun. “Hey, you,” you purr back to him. The shining light in your eyes and adoring smile on your face captivates his souls like nothing else in this world.

“Need a hand with that?” He playfully raised an eyebrow at you.

You give him a soft giggle. “Sure. Mind getting my back for me?”

“Can’t think of anything I want to do more right now.”

He flicks his cigarette to the floor, smothering it with his boots as he walks up behind you, clearing his throat as he takes the wash cloth from your hand. Your smile grows even more and your bottom lip gets pulled between your teeth in anticipation as you turn back around to grant him full access to your backside.

Arthur slowly drags the cloth over your back and shoulder blades, observing how the skin pulls against the muscle. His ocean-blue eyes rake over your body, refreshing his mind with the map of your features that are forever etched into his brain.

His gaze skips from the curve of your neck, to the elegant swoop of your shoulder, down between the protruding shoulder blades and further on down the valley of your spine until he settles on the sudden swell of your rear, currently draped in your bloomers, the ruffles of the fabric all hanging limply along the sides. He wishes he could cover you in the finest of clothing, as you so deserve it. Arthur adores your simplicity, but then again, you are absolutely breath-taking in refinement. You have never even asked for, let alone demanded, such extravagance from him. But that makes Arthur want to provide for you all the more.

“How’s your feet? Gonna lose any toes?” he muses, trying to forget the images of you almost drowning that still flash before his eyes.

“No,” you smirk. “I think I’ll be keeping all my toes and extremities.”

A chuckle rumbles from his broad chest. “Good. ‘Cause I kinda like your toes,” he whispers in your ear, his voice dropping to a playful, sultry tone that makes you giggle again with an accompanying blush as you feel his fingertips dancing along your hip.

Arthur continues to wash your back for you when he notices a bruise along your side, his head tilting to the side in confusion. The sight of any bruise on you, no matter how it got there, never sits well with him. “What happened here?” His thick finger gently ghosts over the purple and yellow bruise that blossomed across your skin.

“Huh?” Your chin turns over your shoulder to follow his sightline. “Oh, Susan wanted a chest moved so she and I hauled it around. I backed into the hanging cupboard.”

“Why didn’t you get one of the men to do it?” he frowns.

“Because I couldn’t find one,” you chuckle in return. “And you know me, I wanted it done right now.”

Arthur scowls at that a bit, realizing how much he’s put you through. He carefully drags the wet cloth over the bruise as if to wash its existence away completely.

When he’s done, Arthur wrings the cloth out and lays it across the hook on the wall to dry before coming back to you, placing his hand onto its rightful place on your hip. He leans over and peppers delicate kisses to the top of your shoulder, his beard ticking just so slightly.

“There, now. All clean, pretty as a picture.”

“Thank you, Love” you whisper, turning your face to him so he can place another kiss to your forehead. He gives you privacy as he wanders over to the bed to relax, giving you time to dress yourself in your sleep gown. When you come around from behind the privacy curtain, hands twinning in your hair to braid it, your eyes settle on your outlaw who is sitting quietly, leaning onto his knees with his forearms, staring blankly into the flames of the calming fire. His shoulders hunch up to his ears, his eyes carrying a vacant, depleted look.

Without a word, your feet pad across the floor to carry you to the bed. You stand in front of him with a soft, empathetic smile on your rose-petal lips. Arthur tilts his chin upward to catch your gaze and wordlessly pulls you closer, resting his forehead onto your abdomen, arms encircling your waist. Your hands float up to gently card you fingers through his hair, eliciting a deep sigh from him as your fingertips dance along his scalp. You lean over him slightly, cradling him to you as you savor the delicate moment, placing a delicate kiss to his crown.

After a few moments of his steady breathing you crawl in behind Arthur with the hem of your gown balled up into your soft hands, his head twisting slightly as his eyes follow you, captivated by every move that your muscles make. You sit up on your knees behind him and begin to massage his shoulders to release the tension. You frown when you feel how hard and tight his shoulders are. A deep and appreciative groan emanates from Arthur’s chest as your strong, yet soft hands dig into his muscles a bit harder to break up the tissue there, his head dipping down between his shoulders to give you better access.

When you’re done, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, fingers curling back and forth across his collarbone and you bury your face into his neck, placing soft, tender kisses there. He catches your hand and brings the back of your knuckles to his lips before tightly engulfing it with his own.

“I’m sorry you have to carry this burden, Arthur.” Your forehead affectionately touches the side of his.

“Don’t be. It's a job I signed up for long ago.”

“I know,” you whisper with a tinge of sadness to your voice. “But still, there’s only so much a man can take.”

“Oh, I can take a lot, sweetheart,” he chuckles half-heartedly. “Don’t concern yourself.” Although he has to admit, it does feel good to have someone worry about him, to take the time to even notice him at all.

“I forgot, you can handle anything because you’ve already handled everything,” you sigh. “But of course I’m concerned about you, Arthur. Seems like I’m one of the only people who are these days.” The fingers of your other hand begin the play with the collar of his union suit.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” he smiles. He gently tugs on your arm to pull you around and into his lap. Once he has you settled there, Arthur stares up into your face, a look of absolute serenity gracing his rugged features. His hand lifts up to cup your face, his long fingers sliding under your hair as his thumb gently swipes across your cheekbone. He marvels at how he now understands that it is not about who hurt you or broke you down in this life. It is about who is always there to take care of you and make your heart smile once again.

You and Arthur share a connection that neither of you could ever deny, nor would you ever want to. You accepted each other into your hearts, and that has become your home, your center.

“I could stare at you all day, you know that?” Arthur’s blue eyes twinkle happily with his simple declaration.

With a loving hum, you lean forward to slowly kiss him, your lips brushing against each other like wildflowers on the wind. Your lips gently work against each other’s, working into each other like a puzzle piece. Your body begins to curl itself up into him to bask in his warmth, desperate to be as close as possible to him.

“You’re like a cat,” he smiles into your mouth, “Trying to curl up into my pocket.” After a few more moments of delicious kisses, he reluctantly pulls away as you chase his lips in response.

“I thought you were pulling away from me,” he whispers with a glimmer of pain in his voice, clutching you tighter as his face twists slightly in concern.

“Maybe I was,” you sigh, your finger lifting his overgrown hair out of his beautiful, soulful eyes. “But you’ve been so angry since we left Blackwater. I wanted to give you time to work through what’s happened.”

Arthur casts his eyes down in shame. “Yeah, well…I shouldn’t’ve been like that with you. I was never angry with you.”

“Oh, I think you were. Just a little”, you chuckle. You let out a contented sigh as you wrap your cold fingers around his face.

“I’m sorry I got you into this, Y/N, but I sure am glad I have you here with me. I think I would lose what little wits I got left without you.” His face suddenly scrunches up a bit. “Damn, your hands are freezing.”

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry. But trust me, they are certainly warmer than they were earlier.”

“Maybe we need to find a way to warm you up, then?” That smirk, that devilish smirk that you love so much has returned to his handsome, tired face, lighting that spark in your belly that has been absent for what seems like an eternity.

“What if Hosea hears us?” you giggle as your nose nudges against his.

Arthur just shakes his eyebrows at you in response. “Don’t care. Besides, he ain’t no prude and certainly no saint.”

You shiver as Arthur pulls back from you a bit, his body heat immediately missed. He reaches over for his discarded coat and lays it down on the bed underneath you for added warmth before gently pushing your body to lay back, covering you with his own. You curl up into his chest to try to keep warm and to keep him close to you.

This isn’t just a carnal, lustful need that has to be filled. You need to feel close to him again. To feel that bond, that connection that you so covet. Because without it, you feel as lost as a shriveled leaf blowing in the wind. And he suddenly has the need to feel you completely, to be all at once on you, in you, and wrapped tightly around you until he is utterly consumed by you.

Things start out tonight more mechanical than anything. You both fidget awkwardly to get situated on the bed, clumsy kisses and uncoordinated hands initiate the intimacy. Both your and Arthur’s fingers playfully fight each other to unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders, leaving him down to his union suit and trousers.

It's been awhile, for your standards anyway, and the tension of days past between you two certainly isn’t helping the mood. Because of the cold, you are not able to completely bare yourselves to each other, either, which is another factor. Normally, you prefer to be bare-skinned against each other, desperate to feel every inch of the other.

But eventually, the awkwardness subsides. The hesitation fades away to allow old habits and familiar patterns to return. Your fingers trail over his muscled back, feeling the way his strong, powerful muscles move beneath the fabric of his union suit as he settles himself over you. Arthur quickly touches you as if he owns you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You need him and he needs you. You need his body pressed against yours. He needs to feel your warmth and inhale your scent. He needs the taste of your kisses as much as you crave his hands wrapped around your curves. You are the unrelenting ache, an endless craving, for it is his unsettled soul that carries the chaos that only you can calm.

The dance of passion quickly begins and Arthur loses himself in you, even if for only for a few moments, but that’s all he needs. Your lips chase him with a whine when Arthur pulls away from your face just so slightly to give himself room to pull at your nightgown. Like the way the sun energizes a flower, you bring his tired, restless soul back to life each time you are together and like the precious sun, you are like nothing else on this earth to him. Arthur has no words to describe what you do for him, but in his kiss, his lips carry a million words of love for you. And he can only hope you will taste each one of them, one by one.

His hands are so warm that they almost burn your frigid skin as they travel everywhere on your body and yet, they are dry and rough from the latest ordeal. How Arthur is able to stay so warm in this arctic weather of Colter is beyond you, but you are so thankful for it. He is like sleeping with a bear and part of you whimpers in disappointment at not being able to run your fingers through his soft body hair as you grasp at him, having to settle instead with sliding your hand under the fabric of his union suit to feel his bare skin.

His lips are dry and chapped from the weather, where you are used to the soft, plump skin, but they nestle perfectly as he attacks the curve of your collarbone, placing fevered and rushed kisses there. Arthur buries his face into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you to cradle you up into him, holding you tightly with almost cruising force. All 6 feet-plus of his barrel-chested frame lays atop of you, caging you into his warm body as he gently rubs himself against you.

You cringe a bit when Arthur’s mammoth hand reaches to your plump middle, squeezing your too pliable stomach in his strong grasp. But Arthur doesn’t care about the extra weight you carry, never has. And he still can’t get over how you have chosen him, of all people, to allow to lay with you so intimately. His fingers handle you roughly, almost painfully, in his haste to touch every part of you. It is not unusual for slight blossoms of purple and blue to be left on your skin after being with Arthur. He is certainly not abusive, in fact far from it. It's just that he needs you so desperately that he forgets himself sometimes and forgets how rough he is.

You have always loved the build up to the intimacy between the two of you, when gentle touching becomes impatient grabbing and soft lips give way to passionate tongues. And your heartbeat escalates until you feel like it will burst from your ribcage, only to be caught by his.

It’s easy enough to take your clothes off and have sex, people do it all the time. But opening up your soul to someone, letting them see your hopes and fears, your thoughts and dreams, that is being truly naked to someone.

Arthur’s mouth trails along your jaw to continue its lover’s journey along your neck, following the curve of your body. He has always loved the way the bend of your neck fits the shape of his mouth so perfectly and how your glittering eyes always flutter and roll back when his lips find their way there. The pads of his weathered fingers skip down over the velvety skin of your lower abdomen, causing delicate goosebumps and the downy body hairs to rise in their wake. The tips of his fingers draw circles and rake across your belly before he reaches between your thighs to the apex of your heat. The moment he graces your tender folds, a passionate hiss escapes from your mouth, which he is quick to lift his head to greedily swallow. You angle your hips into his hand, desperate for the expert touch that only Arthur can provide you.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “My beautiful girl, all mine.”

“All yours,” you breathe out. “Arthur…I need you. I can’t wait much longer,” your whisper desperately with your forehead digging against his, your fingers curling against the skin of his neck. And his chest almost explodes with the love he has for you when he realizes that you have just as deep a need for him as he has for you.

His hand descends between your writhing bodies to pull at the remaining obstacle of buttons of his union suit to pull out his fully-erect cock. His hand trembles slightly from the anticipation as he pumps himself a few times before teasing your heat with it. Arthur rolls up onto his knees for better leverage and begins to slowly push himself into the warm cradle of your cunt. Your hands knead the hard muscle of his shoulders as you brace yourself for his thick and long size, always filling you completely. He watches you, enraptured, as your head tilts back and your eyes roll into your skull as the heavenly over-stimulation engulfs all of your senses and a satisfied moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips as he bottoms-out, pushing his pelvis to meet with yours.

He holds himself still, completely buried there for a blissful moment before he begins to move oh-so slowly, not wanting to get too excited or too loud. Arthur's hips curl sharply, rutting into you at the perfect angle to hit that certain spot. You are not in a position to be wild and passionate, but still, each thrust of his hips sends you to the moon and stars. Your conjoined breathing quickly escalates and becomes staggered and short as you forget the rest of the world even exists beyond your broken little bed.

“It’s been way too long, way too long,” he groans as his tongue darts in and out of his mouth to taste the delicate skin of your shoulder as he pulls at your nightgown.

And you cannot even form words to answer him, but only nod in agreement with a wanton little whimper as your eyelids flutter and lips tremble while he fills you so completely. You have to crush your mouth into his thick shoulder in an effort to muffle yourself.

Suddenly desperate for more, you cage him in tightly with your hips and legs as he rocks his body atop of you, your muscles wrapping around him as much as humanly possible. Your arms fold around his massive shoulders, holding onto him as if for dear life.

“I love you, Arthur,” you whisper breathlessly into his temple, your lips catching on the tender skin there. The tremble of your voice is the whisper of an angel bringing him to heaven.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

Arthur’s head swims as he takes your hand that cradles his face, bringing it to his lips before he threads his fingers through yours and pins your hand next to your cheek as his other arm snakes around your head, holding you against his face while he continues to thrust into you.

“Look at me,” you plead into his ear as your teeth nibble delicately at his earlobe.

He lifts himself up onto his forearms again to look into your loving eyes, the palm of his hand brushing back the hair that has fallen into your serene face. You stare into Arthur’s eyes as he moves. You want to see his face as he makes love to you, desperate to find and rekindle that connection that you so covet. You want to hold onto this sublime moment, as you know you won’t have it for too long. You are like a pouty, spoiled child, not wanting to share your most precious possession with anyone else.

Arthur studies you as your eyelids quiver and skin shutters with each pulse of his strong hips, your mouth gaped open in soundless words, yet you still remain focused on him without faltering. You’ll be sore between your legs when this is done, for sure. You feel every thick, hard inch of him inside you as the weight of his body presses you deeper into the thin mattress with each stroke. Your legs fall open even more, your muscles unable to hold them up as your entire body goes limp like jelly in his presence.

Rough hands continue to pinch and knead your ever-warming flesh. Your hand lifts up to run through his hair, curling through his unwashed locks that are long overdue for cutting before fisting and pulling gently. The feeling of your fingertips dancing across his skin before digging into the muscle grounds him as a reminder that this thing between you is real and he can forgo the trappings of the miserable situation that the gang currently finds itself in. He needs the taste of you on his lips. He needs the scent of you on his skin and your breath in his lungs. He simply needs you to survive.

And as your bodies continue to move in perfect harmony, your eyes suddenly begin to blur with unshed tears. It isn’t until he hears a faint sniffle from you that Arthur registers that something may be wrong.

“Why you cryin’, baby?” Arthur whispers in earnest, afraid something will cause your precious little world to crumble right here and now.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You try to give him your best sad little smile, shaking your head as if to dismiss your concerns.

“For what?” He places a kiss to your nose, still buried deep within you and maintaining that hypnotic rocking motion overtop of you.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want to be yet another thing you have to take care of. I’m sure you wanted nothing more than to come in here and fall asleep for more than an hour, yet you have to take care of me. One more thing you have to do.”

He stops his gentle thrusts for a moment, his face turning to one of pain and disappointment and he finally has to dip his head and break eye contact with you, unable to look you in the face with his shame. It makes your heart ache. But what you do not realize is that those feelings are not towards you but to himself for making you feel that way. He wants to be both needed by, and wanted by, you. He needs to feel like he’s worth something to you, of all people. You are the constant in his life, the beacon of goodness that he can keep his eye on as he navigates the treacherous waters of this dangerous life. Arthur still feels like he’s a worthless, ugly, mean old man, but somehow you still find it in your beautiful heart to love him. So he will do whatever it takes to be worthy of that love.

When he doesn’t say anything, but only responds with a slow, aggravated exhale, you panic, trying to quickly repair the damage. Arthur’s face goes dark and you can almost see the storm of hurtful thoughts swirling about in his mind.

“No, don’t you do that,” you whisper in desperate hushed tones as you collect his face into your hands. “Don’t you dare beat yourself up. As much as I want you all to myself, Arthur, I’m the one trying not to be selfish.”

“Selfish?” His eyebrows knit with confusion. “You’re the least selfish person I know. And besides, I can think of far worse things than being wanted by a woman such as yourself.” His hand caresses your face, his thumb sweeping across your rose petal lips. As he graces you with a feather-like touch, your own hands grab at his back even tighter with a need to pull him to you and hold him even closer.

“You ain’t my burden, Y/N. You’re my refuge,” he continues. “It’s you, and it’s always gonna be.” He touches his forehead to yours, before rolling his lips to pepper the corner of your eyelids and temple. “What I have with you, I don’t want with no one else. Hear me?” A little demure smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Shit, you’re all my heart ever talks about.” He gives you a little wink with a chuckle.

A sob chokes in your throat as your heart soars to know that your connection is now restored. You were so afraid of losing him, that the life and love that you have fostered like a fragile candle flame was going to be extinguished. That he was going to wake up one day after all of this mess with Blackwater, the Pinketons and the swirling chaos of Colter and decide that this relationship was just too much for him to navigate. Arthur is a simple man with a lot of responsibilities. It would be easy to understand that he wouldn't want any distractions or additional demands laid upon him.

You were afraid that you, yourself, were not enough for him. For Arthur is not the only one riddled with insecurities and doubt. He is not the only one who has been broken.

When you close your eyes, it’s like you are at the center of the sun, protected from all the wickedness of the world, wrapped in your lover’s arms. You giggle and return to meet his lips again with a heated passionate kiss before touching your forehead back to his.

“You’re killin’ me, Arthur.” Your resplendent smile sparkles back at him.

“That’s the fun of it, isn’t it?” he snickers as he suddenly resumes the snapping of his hips into your pelvis, picking up speed to rekindle the lustful exhilaration. His hips push heavily against yours, all the way down until the wiry hair of his groin entangles with your own, causing you to gasp, his name falling wantonly from your lips as you angle your hips again to meet his as his cock continues to ram into the bundle of nerves hidden within your core. At this point, you are sure that Hosea can hear you two out in the other room. But like Arthur, you really don’t care. And you're pretty sure that after your talk earlier, neither does Hosea.

The way Arthur holds you is a promise, a confirmation, that for just one moment at least, the two of you don’t have to face the world alone.

Your climax is quick to come after that, as you give in to all your temptation and desire. You fall heart-first into his soul, where he is eagerly awaiting you. You clamp your body around him as the euphoric wave hits you, and as he rides you through yours, his own orgasm hits him like a lightning bolt as he withdraws his swollen cock to rub against your abdomen, his great arms encircling your head like a serpent.

The air in the little cabin room is now hot and sticky with your combined sweat and you take a moment to catch your heaving breaths. Arthur is always sure to take care of you, to take hold of the moment, but once he’s spent, it is you who manages the aftercare. You hold him to you as his body shudders from exertion, his chest heaving as his face seeks refuge once more tucked within the soft skin where your neck and shoulder meet. And this is the symbiotic relationship that elevates the two of you to another place.

Once your conjoined hearts have settled, you bask in your after-glow, snuggled up to each other, afraid to let go. Arthur pulls you to lay upon his great chest, your ear right over his strong heart so that he can weave his fingers into your disheveled hair, a sense of pride knowing he’s the one responsible for the rumpled appearance. You toss your plump leg over his, entwining like a cocoon around him. You wince slightly when your hips pops back into its socket from being spread open so widely.

After a few tenderly quiet moments, you draw yourself up, propping your head into your hand as your elbow bends next to his head so that you can gaze down into Arthur’s face and he meets your loving expression.

“I still remember how I felt the first time I saw you.” Your head tilts as the memory of that fateful afternoon cascades back into your mind. His body shudders slightly as your fingertips absentmindedly ghost over his chest, slowly dancing along below his collarbone and swirling the chestnut colored hair that decorates his skin as you fall deep in thought. “Thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest, broken as it was. You were so magnificent. Took my very breath away to look at you.” Your words are whispered like the ether, acutely holding his attention as you speak. You smile as you watch a blush dust his face up to his ears and he squirms as he nervously tucks his hand behind his head like a pillow.

But a darkness hovers over your glistening eyes as the worry and concern for him floods your mind. “But someone needs to take care of you, too, Arthur.”

“You take care of me just fine, Y/N. You don’t need to worry about that. More than any man like myself deserves.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t forget our deal, Morgan: you look after me, and I’ll look after you.”

“Right.” His hand draws along your delicate spine, tracing your form, as he reaches for yours that rests on his chest, bringing it to his lips.

“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you, Arthur. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happens to you-“

“Shhhh.” The back of his thick finger grazes your cheekbone ever-so softly. “Ain’t nuthin’ gonna happen to me, Y/N.”

He stares into your eyes, both of you knowing this is a promise that is impossible for him to keep. But still, you play his game and give into the heavenly little dream. You sniffle back the lump in your throat and give him a shaky little smile.

But your private bubble is broken all too soon when you suddenly hear Hosea softly knocking on the door.

“Arthur? I hate to break up your fun in there, but your presence is needed elsewhere. Dutch would like a word.”

A pained expression takes ahold of Arthur’s bearded face. “Can’t it wait?” he calls out towards the door.

“‘Fraid not, son.” The regret in Hosea’s voice is palpable. It’s hard to be angry with the old man when you can tell by the tone and volume with which he speaks that the last thing he wanted to do was to rap his arthritic knuckles on that door.

“Damn it,” Arthur growls under his breath. “Alright, hang on,” he calls out to his old friend.

He pauses but for just a moment before he rolls himself up to a sitting position next to you. But panic runs through your veins like fire in your blood. Your hands suddenly shoot out to hold his face protectively to yours, his cheek squishing slightly in your palms.

“Please, Arthur. Please don’t go right now.” You don’t know why, but you are suddenly filled with a deep sense of dread, like something will happen to him if he leaves your sight. You want to feel safe, but you feel anything but that in this place. The only place you ever feel safe is with Arthur, and to have him pull away from you right now, after you’ve just touched each other’s souls, is like ripping a piece of your heart right out of your chest. Like a moth to a flame, you gravitate to Arthur, always desperate to be in his presence.

The look on your face almost breaks Arthur’s heart. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go.” He pulls your hands from his face, but kisses the inside of your palm as he does as a heartfelt apology.

You watch him with sad eyes as stands and he dresses once again, making himself presentable.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen here,” he says uneasily as he threads his arms back through his shirt and begins buttoning it up again. “Something’s different, something’s…off. I don’t know.” His eyes begin to dart around the room as he tries to find the words rattling around in his now-scattered brain. “But whatever it is, things are about to get rough around here.”

You just nod silently in understanding, knowing full-well what that means for your beloved outlaw and his ever-dwindling safety.

“I need to get ahead of this now, before it gets outta hand, Y/N. Understand?” His pleading eyes land on you, practically begging for your approval right now.

“Yes. I understand, Arthur.“ You give him a weak, but loving smile. “Please, be careful.”

“I will.” He gives you a grateful nod and turns to head towards the door. But before his hand can even land on the doorknob, your voice calls to him again.

“Arthur?”

He turns back to meet your longing gaze from where you still sit on the bed, wrapped in the blankets that you just made love in. Your eyelids flutter, overwhelmed with emotions.

“You’re mine,” you state so matter-of-factly. “No matter where you go, no matter what you do. You’re mine. Never forget that.” You are no longer shy to say it nor afraid to admit it. Your deep-rooted need to love him and be loved by him has taken such a tight hold of you that it makes your chest tight and desperate to never let him go. You have no need for romantic fantasies anymore and you are done with the nightmares of failed relationships.

Arthur pauses for only a moment upon hearing your proclamation and quickly strides back across the room to you. He places his large hand on the back of your head and he pulls your forehead to his lips.

“I love you,Y/N,” he says again, his voice serious, making sure that you understand him.

“I love you, too, Arthur” you repeat back, holding his face once again, your thumb rubbing along his cheek as if committing this moment to memory. And with a sigh, you reluctantly concede to let him leave. “Now, go. Before they come in here looking for you.”

You hold onto Arthur’s hand until he is out of your reach, your fingers extended before your arms fall dejectedly into your lap with disappointment as he pushes himself out the door. Your eyes linger on the wooden panel, now sitting still and quiet in its rusty hinges and splintered wooden frame. Your chest still tingles from where he lay atop of you, his heart beating in unison to your own, your breath mingled together.

Normally you are left happy and content, reveling in your blissful and lustful stupor. And yet, a sense of darkness settles over you that you cannot shake. Arthur has always been pulled in a million directions at once, but that is the nature of his role with the gang and his importance to Dutch. But now, a whole new level of concern washes over you and you fear that the notorious outlaw may be getting in too deep.

With a deep sigh, you look to where Arthur’s journal sits carefully nestled in his worn leather satchel. You smile softly, despite yourself. It is a symbol of his mind and his heart nestled in its fragile paper and tattered leather binding.

Your future is uncertain and the road ahead will be laid with hardship. But you will wait for Arthur for as long as it takes. You will keep your shared bed warm for him and always have a hot cup of coffee waiting. For Arthur is worth the wait. He is where you will always find comfort and a sense of belonging. You no longer have a heart of your own for he is your heart. He is your life.You have finally met the person who has made you forget about yesterday and begin to dream of tomorrow. Arthur has the weight of the world on his shoulders right now and you will do whatever you have to in order to ease that burden for him, no matter if the gesture is great or small.

Your eyes drift their way to that same grimy window again, the one that you always seem drawn to. The moon sets high at its zenith like a giant eye to the heavens. The cold-hearted orb gleams against the black canvas of night, bobbing in and out of the clouds that try to grip it with an ethereal fist, and gifts its silvery shadows across the snow below. The banshee wind howls outside, the fingers of the tree outside scraping along the panes of glass.

Where others may see the fear in the darkness of the night, you strangely take comfort in it. With the night, the moon brings calm and tranquility, whereas the sun ushers in activity and chaos during the waking hours of daylight. Things are not always as they seem, often having double meanings and duality to their existence. ‘Good and evil, you cannot have one without the other’ you had told Arthur the day you met. And you firmly believe that. Where you have knowledge, you will also find oblivion. Where you see power, you can also find regret. And love, love takes on so many forms, both in darkness and in the light.

And the moon has taught you that there is still beauty to be found in the darkness.

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

The next morning, you all pack up, piling into the wagons, to leave the bitter cold and head back down the mountain to meet whatever may come for the Van der Linde gang.

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

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