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readngandweepng · 19 days ago

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talking about ftm (high honor) arthur going through a pregnancy !!

some nsfw included but this is 90% sfw so still, minors dni. warning for lots of pregnancy talk and afab language. no pronouns for (top) reader mentioned. i’m not educated on pregnancy so bear with me on this. tbh this isn’t that interesting of a read, but i randomly started fixating on the topic of pregnancy and really wanted to do this. kind of long, only half proofread because i like to live with blissful ignorance.

btw the plot isn't really that fleshed out lol kind of due to it being formatted like a diary? but just imagine this in an alternative timeline where the gang is a lot more settled down. this is also entirely fluffy shit because i hate angst sorry,,,

i feel like arthur would be such a child magnet. completely against his will, town kids will flock to him and ask to see him shoot his gun or let them ride his horse. he’d return to camp with braids in his hair and crumpled flowers among weeds stuffed into his pockets. he’d be giving his silent blessings to abigail everyday realizing this probably isn’t even half of what she goes through everyday taking care of not only jack, but her own husband. arthur can’t blame you for the way you have to hide your laughter at the sight of him. he can’t catch a break, not only does he have to deal with the man-children at camp but he also has the admiration of kids he passes by occasionally in town who now have his face and horse memorized to the point where they’re waiting for him by store entrances. even more so than the bounty hunters, he thinks.

eventually they grow on him and he stops grumbling every time they stop him to ask to get piggybacked. and eventually, arthur starts to wonder just what it would be like to have a child with you—it’s a thought he brushes off just as fast as it came, but he can’t just brush away the dreams he has. soon, he starts thinking of hypothetical names; he meets a luther, sam, olivia, alexander, josephine. every person that introduces themselves, he stores them in the back of his head, just in case. because what if you had a daughter named dorothy? what if you had a son named jasper? would you name your children after charles, javier, mary-beth? it makes his heart ache thinking about it, but once the thoughts come flowing in they don’t stop. would your children have his eyes or yours? would they have curly hair or straight? would they have your smile? he hopes to god they do. he becomes so busy mulling over these things it gets you worried, wondering if something was wrong, if he was thinking of bad things. his face flushes beneath his hat when you ask and it quells your concerns. he can’t tell you what he’s thinking of though. honestly, he probably wasn’t even aware just how much he had on his mind. you leave him be, but your concern only makes his thoughts worse because it reminds him of how kind and attentive you are. he thinks about how good of a parent you would be and how good you’d be to him.

he’s thought of pregnancy before, but it felt almost mythical—in what world would an outlaw like arthur morgan have a child? if you’d raised the idea to someone like sean or john, they’d surely laugh in your face, probably spitting out their beer in the process. however charles and hosea, they’d entertain it; encourage it even, under certain circumstances. of course he wonders what kind of father he’d be. in his mind he’d certainly be a deadbeat, something akin to his father perhaps, and with the kind of life he lives how could he be so selfish to even entertain the thought? it hurts his heart in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. he thinks about the weight that lifts from his shoulders when he’s with you. he’s spent so much of his life being loyal to someone who even he knows doesn't completely deserve it. he sometimes feels unworthy of having a better life for himself, but letting you wiggle your way into his heart gives him the courage to move forward and take the opportunity to finally do something good for himself, because maybe, just maybe arthur morgan does deserve something nice. so he brings up the whole, having a kid thing.

of course arthur isn’t going to just straight up ask you, he’s going to beat around the bush a little. it’s an incredibly difficult thing for him to articulate, so he just sort of goes like, ‘you ever think about what it’s like being a parent?’ and maybe you start talking about john and his less than ideal role as a father and the work abigail puts in to take care of both jack and john, and even half the camp if you’re being honest. and then eventually after some foot tapping he asks if you would ever want children someday. he doesn’t specify whether with him or not, but the implication hangs in the air. you shrug with a simple ‘maybe’ as your answer before flipping the question onto him. he tilts his head down to hide his face with his hat as he tries to find his words. it’s endearing how shy he can get with conversations like these, and his reaction proves he’s been pondering the question a while already. you’d have to reassure him as gently as you can manage for a man like arthur. “with you, i’d do anything.” it would make his heart swell. tears would prick at his eyes but he’d be happy. and for once, hopeful.

there’s a chance you’re probably not going to tell anyone at camp just yet. at least not until you have no other choice where it’s completely unavoidable to talk about the bump arthur would be bearing. this would be a private affair between you and arthur, which is almost humorous to say considering what the hell even is a private life at camp with people like sean and uncle loitering around looking for gossip to drink to? he won’t ask for a night in a hotel but he also won’t be opposed to the offer. he’ll get embarrassed if you try to be too romantic with him but he does appreciate the gesture(s). even though it’s not your first time together he’ll be acting like it is. suddenly his body feels hot at the softest touches, your lips on his neck make him feel like he’s melting. it all starts to feel extremely real to him. arthur, with some convincing, will sit back and let you take care of him as you slowly open him up with your fingers and tongue. he’ll be cursing under his breath the whole time, barely even being able to look down at you without his entire face blossoming red. he’ll flutter around your fingers when you tell him how handsome he is, but arthur will have to kiss you to shut you up when you start talking about how pretty he’s gonna look pregnant.

when your cock slides into him he has to hide his face in your neck because he can hardly take it. his heart is racing and his palms become clammy but he doesn’t want you to stop. you go slow, making sure to bury your cock deep into him with every thrust. it’s not entirely different from your normal sex with arthur, however this time you do feel a different sense of urgency and desperation. his pussy sucks your cock back in every time you pull away with such ease, as if his body knows you plan on impregnating him. arthur’s legs shake beneath you but he denies that it’s from the nerves, until he double backs and tries to say, well, maybe it is because of the nerves so that he doesn’t have to admit his legs are shaking because your cock is hitting him so deep that he feels like he’s going to cry from how good it feels.

arthur’s perfect for this sort of thing. he’s so obedient about laying down and staying still so that you can fuck him. he doesn’t ask you to go faster or to slow down, he just keeps his legs open and takes your cock, which is why you know that regardless of whether or not he gets pregnant the first time around, he definitely will eventually. you fit so well inside him that a part of you wonders if he’s hoping he won’t get pregnant just so you can fuck him like this again. arthur quickly gets very blissed out. his moans become sweeter and he’s much more complacent, easily responding to questions he’d previously be too shy to answer; as his orgasm builds so does his confidence. his legs wrap around your waist and he looks you in the eye as he bucks his hips into your thrusts. when you tell him you’re close he kisses you, encouraging you to cum inside him. you grab his hips with one last thrust, burying yourself deep before you cum. arthur holds onto your wrists as he gently rocks up into you, his orgasm following. he’s out of breath and his legs are even more shaky as he slumps against the bed. you don’t pull out. the both of you stare at each other before you exchange one more kiss, one much longer and candid. you gently lay down atop him and he wraps his arms around you as you feather kisses to his neck. his body is still flush with shades of pink and red but you keep the thought to yourself. after a minute or two you ask how he’s feeling and by now he’s back to his usual self, keeping his eyes down as he answers you. for a second he insists you stay inside, but with a little convincing he allows you to pull out. he tries not to look, but he can’t help himself; your cock is shiny with fluid and he can feel you twitch inside him one last time, and then he’s empty, aside from your cum that keeps him feeling warm and full. you lay down beside him and instinctively you rest your hand on his stomach. the action has arthur shooing you away with a bashful look but he does the same. he surveys his stomach, and you can see just by looking at his face what it is he’s picturing.

a week later you and arthur have sex again. it’s at camp this time, in the comfort of your shared tent. he’s laid down on his stomach as you lift his hips up to fuck him. he takes you effortlessly, only occasionally having to keep his face to his cot to drown out a stray moan or two. before you finish you pull his hips up just a little bit higher, making sure you’re nestled as deep as you can go before spilling into him. the feeling of your cock pulsing against his walls makes arthur cum. his pussy convulses around you, making sure it squeezes out every drop. you both collapse back onto the cot as you pull out and roll off him to rest at his side. arthur immediately relaxes into the blankets when you softly drag your fingers down his back. his eyes open to look at you as he swallows, “think it’ll, y’know—work?” you swipe away the loose strands of hair that fall in front of his face and give a reassuring smile. “i hope so.” is your response, and it soothes him.

about 2 weeks later arthur comes up to you talking about a nauseating headache. he’d just got back from a trip into town and you could see from the way he’d been clasping his forehead on the way down from his horse that he’d been hurting for some time. you fetch him a cup of water as you sit him down on your cot, planting a gentle kiss on his temple as he takes slow sips from the cup. “have you been hurting anywhere else?” he shakes his head no. you ask him if you can write something down in his journal and he flips to a blank page before handing it to you along with his pencil. you mark down his headache at the top. it’s not confirmed whether he’s actually pregnant or not, you both know this, but you make note of it anyway. unbeknownst to you, as arthur reads what you’ve written his heart skips with every letter. he feels an almost childlike excitement at the thought of filling the page with symptoms of his (hopefully) developing pregnancy. you ask him if he’ll be okay, and he tells you yeah, he will be. arthur says it with such confidence it alarms you momentarily but the giddy smile on his face cuts your words of concern short. his headache is gone by the time pearson calls for dinner.

arthur doesn’t bring up the fact you’ve begun to hover over his shoulder the next few days. he hasn’t experienced any further symptoms since the headache and he can tell it’s driving you a little crazy. you try not to make it obvious when you ask him if he’s been feeling ‘different’ but he can see through it right away. admittedly, you may be getting a little too overbearing about things; for god’s sake he’s not even showing yet, he doesn’t need to sit down after lifting one damn hay bail. your attempts at beating around the bush have caused some eyebrows to raise at camp. arthur will remind you a lot that he’s perfectly fine and that he can take care of himself. he doesn’t need people poking and prodding at him on top of you stressing out to the point of not even letting him get up on his own horse alone. he appreciates the gestures, of course not admitting that he finds your concern endearing, but he also is his own man who needs some space every now and then. you respect his wishes and (try to) lay off the mothering.

the 4th week rolls in and arthur starts to experience some body aches. he wakes up some mornings and his hips and shoulders hurt like he slept on a boulder, which unfortunately dampens his mood for the rest of the day. you once reminded him a little too happily to write it down in his journal and he gave you a look so hauntingly sour you didn’t say another word to him for the next six hours out of fear. however you started offering massages to him that he gladly took after long days. one of these massages led into sensual heavy petting that resulted in you and arthur having sex almost three times in one night, where the next morning he woke up with a throbbing headache (which you wrote in his journal when he wasn’t looking). arthur had occasionally reminded you that his pregnancy wasn’t yet set in stone. despite his eagerness to become pregnant, he’d developed a habit of denial to protect himself from the disappointment of possible failure. however at the end of the week, abigail came up to him sipping a cup of coffee, another cup in her other hand, still in her night clothes. she handed him the full cup that he took with a quiet thanks. they stood in silence for a moment before abigail asked him if he’d been feeling alright. “just.. you need somethin’, don’t be afraid to ask, okay?” arthur tells you about the conversation and it makes you smile. he reminds you not to get your hopes up but the both of you know that by this point it’s a little too late for that.

a day into the 6th week and arthur throws up. he’d been making his way over to the stew pot for a bowl of dinner and the smell stopped him dead in his tracks. he stepped off behind some trees, vomited, and went to bed hungry. in the morning you brought up the idea of breakfast which unfortunately triggered another wave of nausea. you gave him some water to take sips from and let him have an hour before offering up an oatcake. he rejected it but didn’t vomit at the thought, so you urged him to have a bite or two to at least get some food in his belly. though reluctant, he ends up eating two oatcakes and on top of that stomachs a cup of coffee and eats a can of peaches you’d recently bought for dinner. the waves of nausea end up continuing on and off the rest of the week, resulting in a lack of appetite. he has to go to bed early because he can’t stand the smell of pearson’s stew. last night of the week you hold him against you, being sure to gently rub his stomach in slow circles. you place a kiss on his neck as your hand on his stomach stills. “so.. maybe?” your voice is quiet. he turns his head to kiss you on the lips. “maybe.”

by the end of the 7th week, arthur has told you about chest soreness and muscle cramps. he says they’re not so bad, but it’s the nausea that keeps a hold of arthur. he’s thrown up almost every morning and it’s starting to grab the attention of others at camp. you and arthur have felt abigail’s eyes on you for days now but by now you’ve gotten used to it. however a new face appears one late morning. “sit down a minute.” it’s hosea who ushers you over to one of the empty tables where he sits with a newspaper in hand. “how have you been?” you tell him you’ve been fine. he hums. hosea’s face almost looks sculpted in the early sun. “and arthur?” you hesitate a second. he’s been fine. you look away from hosea’s stone-cold gaze. he sighs. hosea tells you a little story, something about him and bessie. he tells you how bessie had always wanted children but due to his lifestyle they decided not to have any. “we already had john and arthur.” you nod. you definitely understand that. he’s quiet for a moment. “it was like looking in a mirror,” he turns in his seat. “seeing you and arthur.” you stare at him. there’s a melancholic look in his eyes, but there’s also wisdom and gratitude, one you have grown to respect and admire. later in the day you see arthur grab himself a cup of water. going up to him you remind him to take small sips which he stubbornly abides. you don’t tell him about your conversation with hosea, at least not until arthur tells you about his own. though neither of you are surprised by hosea’s spot-on observations, you are surprised by the lack of lecturing. apparently hosea had told arthur something about the strength of parenting and the importance of children to our future. arthur’s retelling is unenthusiastic, but you can tell hosea’s words won’t be forgotten despite arthur not really getting it. you go to bed after having dinner. you bought an apple just for arthur but he didn’t have the energy to bite into it so you sliced it up and, to his chagrin, hand-fed it to him and chased it down with some crackers. before settling down to sleep you flip open arthur’s journal and write down his pains and nausea. he’s asleep by the time you finish.

week 8 and arthur’s nausea hasn’t gotten any better. he now wakes up an hour earlier than he usually does. it’s a schedule you’re still getting used to, but you’re motivated by your new ritual of hunting rabbits just to make a meal out of it for arthur. at the moment rabbit is the one meat he can stand to eat without getting sick, and he seems to have developed a strong liking for peaches of which you’re sure to pop a can open for arthur to eat on the side. he hasn’t been eating as much as he used to, but thankfully you don’t seem to notice any weight loss as of yet. your eyes are on him like a hawk the second he takes his shirt off to change, which embarrasses your lover to no end. arthur told you he’s convinced you would notice if a single freckle on his body disappeared and you don’t deny the statement. you tell arthur to write down what he eats and what foods he can think of without feeling sick. by the end of the week, he doesn’t write down much besides peaches, rabbit, strawberries, almonds. so at least there’s something new. you spend the first day of the ninth week in valentine, popping into saloons and bribing the bartenders in letting you pay for a pound or two of almonds. you return to camp and make arthur a meal that he delightfully scarfs down before asking for another plate. that night arthur gets a little restless and you two have sex, however the morning after arthur gets so nauseous even dutch told him to take the day off to rest.

throughout the 9th and the start of the 10th week, you could see slight visible changes to arthur. one morning you’d woken up an hour later than him. you could see him hanging around the fire as he spoke to john, both of them sipping on a cup of coffee. you made your way over to them, and right when john turned to leave your eyes immediately darted down to arthur’s clothed chest. “what?” he asks, prickling under your gaze. for a second you couldn’t pinpoint what it was until it hit you. “your breasts got bigger,” arthur is dumbfounded as he hushes you down. “what the hell are you talking about?” your hands awkwardly fan out towards arthur but he just clicks his tongue and lightly shoves you. “don’t say them things,” he doesn’t have a hat on so he turns away to hide the color on his face. as he’s about to walk away you tell him to write it down and he damn near throws the coffee in your face. the rest of the week he still mentions some soreness in his chest (where he also curtly declined your offer for a massage..) and more hip pain. he also said he’d been a lot more tired lately. you told him to take it easy and rest early, which he normally would have declined, however the second he laid down he slept through the rest of the day and woke up to scarf down another rabbit and peach meal.

the 11th week moves forward and arthur starts to wake up a little more tired than usual. abigail has begun stopping by your tent occasionally with a cup of tea. “it’ll help,” is all she says. he says the tea tastes like ashes and dirt but he drinks it anyway and the lingering soreness of his body slowly dissipates like water trickling from a spilt canteen. one early morning you wake up at the same time as arthur. it’s before abigail comes around to give him some tea so you help him unbutton his shirt to ease some of his muscle cramps. upon doing so your gaze fixates on his stomach. you maneuver yourself behind arthur, wrapping your arms around him. he asks you what you’re doing and you just settle your palm on his stomach. “arthur..” you attempt to whisper but you can barely contain your excitement. “you’re starting to show!” he looks down at himself in amusement. “looks the same to me,” your palm cups the faint bump. “i swear it’s different—” he bats your hand away. “it ain’t!” but he’s got a warm smile on his face as he looks back at you. you offer to make him a meal but he sighs at the suggestion and asks if you happen to have fresh peaches on you. unfortunately you don’t, so you spend the next hour buying fresh peaches for him. he ends up eating about two a day and has to carry a full canteen with him due to his increase in thirst. after downing lots of water, he’s able to work up the energy to do chores around camp. once or twice he’s stopped by micah or bill so they can badger him about not doing any work but hosea is quick to put a stop to it. you’ll have to help convince arthur to take it easy because he hates feeling useless, although he doesn’t want any small, measly tasks handed to him either. take him with you to town and arthur’s mood will lift. also, give him the opportunity to pick something out to eat and he’ll take home a little bag of treats of which he ends up savoring for so long that sean somehow sniffs them out and eats the last one.

the 12th week you go hunting with arthur for slightly bigger game. arthur still hasn’t eaten any other meat besides rabbit, but you’re hopeful that you can maybe get something more in his diet. you’d originally planned on getting turkey but arthur insisted on deer so you decided to get both. by the time you’ve hunted and killed a deer as well as two turkeys, you’re far enough away from camp that you decide to set up a tent and camp out for the night. arthur’s already gnawing on a hunk of venison the second he gets it cooked but you still take out a peach from your satchel and slice it into pieces so you can occasionally hand him a slice. unfortunately he can’t finish the venison before he has to get up and vomit so instead you let him eat the rest of the peach and grab some leftover rabbit from your bag to cook. despite the slight nausea, arthur tells you he’s fine. you both talk for a while before you go to bed. you hold him close to you, covering him in a warm blanket. he can feel you smiling against his skin but decides not to say anything. he clasps your hands together and falls asleep, only waking up once or two to down a few gulps of water.

the 13th week dutch has you and arthur meet him at his tent where he sits with a book in hand. he rolls off some evelyn miller excerpt before closing the book and urging the both of you closer. “now, i want the two of you to understand that we are family. alright?” it’s nothing he hasn’t said before, but his words sound almost solemn with care. he goes on about sticking together and working to sustain the life that we worked for! he looks between you as he says this, looking into your eyes but not really making the mental contact. it’s all sort of nonsense, something arthur is definitely used to by now. still, the conversation brings relief. it means that one, dutch knows arthur is pregnant which is most likely hosea’s doing (who you pray to god gave a convincing argument to settle any concerns of dutch) and two, you and arthur’s child will have a home. you’re positive abigail is ready with her arms open to assist with whatever is to come, and with hosea’s support you at least have two, if not three when you count dutch, people who are willing to help raise a child, especially arthur’s. you two share a look when dutch dismisses you, but you don’t get a moment to talk before grimshaw is in front of you, her foot already tapping with irritation, though she greets you politely nonetheless. just the woman you wanted to avoid. she’s sporting her typical who do i gotta yell at to get any work done around here? look, however she doesn’t yell or sneer, she simply asks, “how have you been keeping?” the question is directed towards arthur who nods his head with a ‘just fine, miss grimshaw’. she purses her lips. “i see you’ve been busy.” your heads drop as you shuffle in place; you should have known it’d be arthur who got the heat. you open your mouth to speak but she cuts you off with a dismissive hand wave and a little scoff. “though i rather we had discussed this beforehand, what’s done is done—you won’t be leaving camp any time soon, mister morgan, not until that baby comes out. there’s still plenty of work that needs to be done ‘round camp.” it’s not what you expected to hear but you’re grateful nonetheless. you can’t argue further so you walk arthur back to your tent and gesture for him to sit down. no doubt the news will reach the rest of camp soon but it’s expected. at the very least arthur will have things to do while he’s forced to listen to people blathering nonsense in his ears all day.

14th week and you finally convince arthur to speak to strauss. you dislike the man as much as he does—if not more—but your concern for arthur’s health outweighs your disdain. you’d originally suggested a doctor in saint denis but the distance is what concerned you, figuring it’d be better to wait until arthur’s nausea was at its lowest before taking the risk, among many other things. so instead you kiss arthur goodbye as he makes his way over to strauss’ tent while you get on your horse and ride out of camp to find supplies you might need for the baby. now, you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for, or what you were supposed to be looking for, but you waltzed into rhodes’ general store with confidence anyway. it’s the same as it always is, supplying the few things you usually get, however this time your attention is caught by the dolls that sit in the centerpiece. is it too early to buy something like that? what if your child doesn’t even like dolls? would they even have time to play with them? you move on. the cashier greets you, gesturing to the catalog of which you flip open. after going through the pages, among the cigarettes, soap, and ammunition, you find a few products that catch your eye; baby powder, more soap, blankets, clothes—not a lot, but some. the advertisements were foreign; you’re only just now realizing your lack of knowledge on child care. oops. as you scan the page(s) you hear the cashier retort some comment you ignore. what the hell is soothing syrup? you close the catalog. you decide not to make any decisions yet, at least not now—you’ll bring abigail with you next time—however you don’t leave the store empty handed; you cave, buying one of the dolls, one with a blue dress and dark, empty eyes. you figure you might give it to jack, see if he likes it. maybe him and your child will share toys and play together? feeling disappointed with just a doll in your satchel, you take the next few hours touring the tailors in saint denis. there wasn’t anything too interesting, only a small section for children’s clothes that didn’t offer much at all for a baby, but the experience was insightful nonetheless. on the way home, out of pure desperation you ransack an abandoned cabin. it was small, most likely only homing one or two adults. inside you find some blankets that you fold into your satchel, and sitting beside a rundown armchair, you spot a woven basket filled with yarn and fabric. the sight suddenly makes you feel guilty for taking it, as if there was anyone present to mourn its loss. you take it anyway, keeping it held close in front of you as you ride back home. the sun has begun to set, and arriving into camp you’re greeted by the smell of fresh stew. you make your way to your tent as subtle as you can with a basket in hand, and within it is arthur who’s nursing a bowl of stew. his mouth is full so your question comes first. apparently pearson decided on rabbit as tonight’s main course, as well as tomorrow’s. with a grateful smile, you gently set the basket down and greet your lover properly.

15th week and you’ve gotten swamped with work. you’ve begun fulfilling arthur’s jobs on top of yours and damn is it exhausting. you don’t dare complain though, not with arthur around else he’ll jump to his feet and tire himself out, so you power through it. you knew that arthur’s role around camp was a significant one, but you weren’t expecting so many people asking you for things; train robberies, got that easy. stage coach, even easier. possible money stashed away in a fancy suite in saint denis, sure, whatever. but then you have the girls asking you for things, simple stuff like jewelry or things they’ve lost, things with barely anything to go off of. and then there’s micah who’s deliberately sending you on wild goose chases just because he knows that you’ll do it, basking in your blind obedience with beastly perversion. right now on your metaphorical list you need to find oleander, a pocket watch, a pen or two (one hopefully with red ink and one with black, of course) several books, some type of yellow flower (god knows what) some spices, thyme, and then pearson needs you on hunting duty for fish and venison and everything and you’ve only just gotten a sliver of what arthur has to deal with in his day to day life and though you’re happy you’ve taken this weight off of his shoulders you are overwhelmed. you hardly get to see arthur with his new sleep schedule and your now packed one, but some mornings he’ll drink a little more coffee than usual just so he’ll stay awake long enough to kiss you goodnight and fall asleep with you holding him.

the beginning of the 16th week you almost get yourself shot trying to rob a stagecoach with bill, and somehow arthur could tell despite you not saying a word about it. ironically, the most difficult part of taking arthur’s load of work is trying to convince him not to intervene. his nausea has started to subside, but he’s still on a lackluster diet. you’ve tried sneaking in protein packed meat alongside the rabbit but his pregnancy seems to have granted him a laser-eyed tongue that can detect the slightest discrepancies. strauss had suggested possible foods to keep arthur upright and make sure he doesn’t become underweight, but he’s hardly touched anything you’ve given him besides the rabbit and peaches and almonds. which is why it’s almost a miracle when arthur starts craving something he didn’t used to care much for: violet snowdrop. you asked him if he’s ever even eaten some before and he just shrugs. no, it doesn’t exactly make for the most hardy meal ever, or like, really make a meal at all, but it’s something new and that’s good enough for you. you get on track right away, riding out to annesburg and picking as many as you can find. arthur eats it up like he hasn’t eaten in days, using it as an extra flair to his rabbit. the girls come by occasionally, offering different herbs and fruits that arthur might take a liking to. you’ve learned that (at least during his pergnancy) arthur HATES pineapple. just looking at a can of it makes him double over, so you keep stocking up on the fresh peaches and almonds. on one of your tracks to find a stagecoach, you came across a small farm, one that harbored a single bush of strawberries among their crops. it lights a fire in you, and you make sure that its owner(s) don’t spot you as you pick the few full-grown ones and wrap them in a piece of fabric within your satchel. again, not the most fulfilling food ever, but it’s something new, and anything that arthur will eat is something you’ll protect like glass. when you bring them out to him, he visibly lights up. there weren’t a lot on the one bush, but arthur is satisfied anyway. after he eats you retreat to your tent and sit down with him. he sighs when he sits, immediately leaning his full weight onto you. you can see the faint outline of his bump beneath his vest and it fills you with pride. you unbutton it and pull his shirt up just enough to show his stomach. you can’t stop smiling and it makes arthur bashful at the attention, but he instinctively puts his hand on his bump, most likely feeling as happy as you are in the grand scheme of things.

throughout the 17th and 18th week, mary-beth and tilly have come by your tent to check up on things. you can tell they’re excited, if not nosy, about the baby. mary-beth goes on about how romantic it is to raise a child with the person you love and tilly keeps asking about baby names. they’ve offered their ideas—most of them being names you’re certain are straight out of their fantasy books—and even their own names more so as a joke, though you’re not opposed to either tilly or mary-beth as a girl’s name. sean joins this as well, and every week or so he likes to remind you and arthur about how heroic the name sean would be for a baby boy. their investment is sweet and relieving, especially grimshaw’s when she bounds her way into a conversation however arthur doesn’t seem too happy about having to be reminded to wash up every day and drink as much water as he can handle. you’ve gotten your fair share of scolding although you can’t help but feel grimshaw is just going a little bit easy on you due to your hard work around camp if her screaming at uncle and reverend lazing about is any indication. she certainly is keeping the others in line, shooing away sean and the girls and anyone who tries badgering you within her sight. thankfully, no one’s been too pissy about it. you get an occasional comment from bill about giving us another mouth to feed but the malice dies down after a while and he starts to hang around like he’s invested in a story and is waiting for what happens at the end, along with kieran; you can feel his eyes on you when you’re with arthur, like he wants to be included and ask what’s up but fears rejection. you and arthur have deliberately not made any public announcements, instead resorting to let the news carry around naturally. it’s hard to keep things on the downlow when mary-beth is swooning at the thought of you taking care of arthur, and especially difficult when a drunk sean is going around offering to be the next one bed-ridden just so he can get out of doing chores like arthur. you suspect javier knows because he insists on singing specific songs while arthur is sitting by the fire, like he wants your baby to memorize them—and who knows, maybe your child will develop a love for music, become a pianist in a saloon, something like that (anything but an outlaw). regardless, things around camp are strangely serene, not as hectic as it may have been months before, and you can’t help but wonder if arthur’s pregnancy has somehow created a new environment, one more domestic and hopeful. sure, you get the occasional covetous looks from molly, or a passing comment from uncle and micah, but it’s nothing real. there’s something different being lifted into the air, something the gang hasn’t felt since blackwater. the future feels bright, and with the good word from strauss about arthur’s health, you’re no longer afraid, but at home.

the 20th week you return to camp after a short (and slightly uneventful) stagecoach robbery to see arthur being swamped with attention by the girls. now that arthur’s bump is starting to become noticeable even under his usual attire, he can’t avoid the excited squealing every time he’s in line of sight of either mary-beth or tilly. he could deal with just them two, but now he’s even got karen standing over his shoulder insisting he lets her put a hand on his stomach to see if there’s really something in there; her words, not yours. it’s a sweet sight, even when arthur harbors a look that would put an o’driscoll to their knees; the girls are unaffected, much to his dismay. when you get closer you can hear mary-beth going on about how something is ‘just like in the fairytales!’ you can’t imagine what arthur has had to put up with while you were gone, but at least you don’t have to worry about your child growing up with a lack of attention if the sight of karen holding arthur’s bump and urging the other girl’s forward to feel doesn’t prove it. upon seeing you, arthur heaves a sigh of what looks like both relief and frustration (probably because you’re just watching this all happen and not doin’ anything about it). tilly and mary-beth retreat back to their original positions as they greet you with a frivolous tone. “go on, girls. arthur—and the baby—need some space.” they walk back to their stations, and a comment from karen seems to cause the other two to burst into giggles. you can tell arthur’s exhausted so you lead him back to your shared tent. next to the woven basket you found, you see a small folded blanket. with flushed cheeks arthur tells you the girls made it. “you know, for the baby.” he says nothing else to you as he pulls his journal out, most likely to write about his day. it makes you feel a bit giddy. not that you weren’t interested in the life that is held within his journal, but the thought of you and your unborn child being on his mind and possibly recorded on the thin pages is a feeling you’ll be happy getting used to.

for the rest of the 21st week, it’s all chatter among the camp. there’s barely a moment of silence aside from when everyone’s asleep. arthur’s developed a habit of putting his hand on his stomach every time he sits down or gets up that almost always raises a comment he has to brush off with rosy cheeks. you can tell things are livelier—molly and dutch haven’t been fighting, abigail and john are spending more time together, even reverend, of all people, has stopped asking for money. people are drinking in celebration (precisely sean and uncle) who thankfully have been less obnoxious than usual aside from sean’s occasional ribbing, “o’l morgan’s got himself knocked up, did he?” yet, with a bottle in hand, he welcomes the two of you over to a table anyway and doesn’t mention it further. dutch seems to be in high spirits, laying it low on the planning and scheming and letting everyone catch a break. you haven’t left arthur’s side in days, your mother-henning even making abigail shake her head in amusement. a lot of camp members have to talk you into giving arthur space, grimshaw and hosea especially. sadie comes up to you occasionally with warmth in her eyes and praise on her tongue. despite her disinterest in children, she offers to find supplies in your place to allow you time with arthur. your heart fights its love for arthur and concern for sadie, but she gives you no choice in the end. at the moment, you are surrounded by friends and family. arthur keeps trying to turn mary-beth and tilly’s attention to you instead of his ever-growing stomach (from what you can make out they’re trying to guess whether the baby will be a girl or not) until hosea makes a short toast that shoos them away once more. the lack of quarreling makes being at camp relaxing, not only for the overworked (and cain, whose arrival makes bill and jack lively once more) but especially for your poor lover. his body aches strike back like lightning, but for once he can sleep without feeling like there’s work he needs to do and people he needs to help.

week 22 and arthur’s pains start to flare up again. he wakes up with it in his hips, shooting up to his back and down to his ankles. they seem to be worse than they first were, judging by the amount of time he spends lying in the same position, trying to stay still so as to not irritate it. you can only assume it’s helping to ease the pain, because arthur refuses to expand on it, most likely to keep you from worrying. unfortunately, it only worries you more. you practically throw strauss out of bed in furious concern, but he says the pains are normal and hold no real threat. you retreat back to arthur to hold him in your arms, smoothing your hand over his hips and thighs to try and massage the pain away. he hums, melting before your touch. you strike up a conversation in hopes it might distract from the aches. you first ask him if he’s hungry, and though he says yes, he doesn’t let you get up from your spot which you hope means that what you’re doing is helping. after a pause, you ask him how he’s feeling about the pregnancy. there’s a bit of back and forth as he tries to change the subject to you, but eventually he starts answering. he’s got his doubts and fears, but overall he’s happy. he’s satisfied, or at least the closest he’ll ever get to it. he’s unsure of himself, but one thing he knows is that he loves you, and he loves his child. his child, the baby. his chuckle is sardonic. you still haven’t picked a name yet. you’re not sure when you’ll settle for one, or if you’ve even put enough thought into it with all that’s been going on. you make a joke about naming them after dutch or molly and he elbows you with a smile. now, hosea isn’t the worst option. neither is charles or susan, or even abigail. sadie, too. arthur thinks of john, though he knows if he named his child after him he’d never hear the end of it. regardless, he reminds himself to write them all down in his journal later. you suggest a name or two, just ones you’ve heard in passing that you thought were interesting. he doesn’t say much as he ponders them, but his hand goes to his stomach as if he were trying to imagine it. his body has stopped aching for the time being, though despite the crick that has now formed in his neck he turns over to kiss you. your massaging of his hips and thighs turn into playful squeezing as you kiss his neck. the two of you mutually decide to spend your morning in bed until either dutch or grimshaw calls your name to get the day moving and the work started.

the start of the 24th week, arthur and you are eating breakfast together, away from the main campfire and away from the noise and smells. he’s eating strawberries that charles had found on his way back from a hunting trip. arthur finishes eating and wipes his hands on his jeans before he makes a surprised uhf! sound that has him staring you down with a tell anyone about that and it’s over for you kind of look on his face. you ask him what’s wrong and he tells you something about cramps in his stomach. you must have looked worried sick because he immediately adds that it’s not painful, just weird, like there’s a fish flopping around in his stomach. his description has you putting your hand on his forehead that he swats away like he would a mosquito. he means that it feels like there’s something moving—like the baby? a soft silence falls between you as you put your hand on his stomach. you feel nothing. he clicks his tongue, you ain’t feel it just yet because that’s what abigail had said. you smile anyway, and he shakes his head with a little laugh. you keep your hand in place as you admire him. he becomes bashful under your gaze but doesn’t stop you. you only pull away when you hear the crunching of dirt behind you as javier calls the both of you over to join the others in some early-morning bickering.

funnily enough, it’s not until the 26th week that jack finally learns about arthur’s pregnancy. “i thought you were just fat, uncle arthur!” an ego-killer for sure, as innocent as it was. abigail hushes him the same way she hushes john who you can only guess learns the news about the same time as his son, silently questioning arthur with a look that practically screams wait, you’re pregnant? though it’s better not to talk about it, for john (and abigail’s) sake. your break gifted by dutch is nearing the last of its days (or perhaps hours, depending on any bright ideas he comes up with) so you spend them with arthur and arthur alone. sadie and charles have done you wonders, charles going out to hunt and gather arthur’s current favorites and sadie robbing as many folk as she could find to spare you extra dollars, something you’d been afraid to attempt in concern for your possible absence to arthur and your baby. she also found what looked like a doll made of fabrics and yarn; some threads had been pulled from its scalp of which sadie commented upon it looking like uncle. you don’t exactly disagree. arthur’s appetite has grown. he says it feels like he’s never getting full, being able to eat three plate-fulls of food and still be hungry for three more. this makes arthur feel extremely guilty, fearing that he’s eating food that could be used to feed someone who’s “truly” hungry. it’s difficult to knock arthur out of these thoughts, but bringing up the baby and how, in reality, it’s most likely the baby that’s hungry, he finds it a little easier to eat just one more peach. the herbs he craves aren’t filling enough, but charles gave you some advice on how to feed arthur something hardier while keeping the taste that he desires. you thought it’d never work, using a thick rub for the meat you cooked for him. you just assumed he’d notice right away and spit it out, but arthur’s intense hunger wins him over. thankfully, no one really makes any harsh comments on arthur’s eating habits aside from the typical jokes thrown from sean or john, or micah even. sometimes jack will see arthur holding one of his peaches and he’ll ask if he can have a bite and of course arthur just gives him the whole peach because he just can’t reject jack like that, not when his emotions are all over the place and he’s thinking about his future child asking him for a peach he’ll probably still have a shit ton of left over (though god knows after his pregnancy is over arthur is probably never going to want so see another damn peach again). jack ends up being a lot better company for arthur, asking him questions that are difficult enough to answer that arthur can swerve around them with ease, much to jack’s frustration. as arthur eats, he thinks of his baby, mostly of their name. and then he thinks of his mother, beatrice. beatrice ain’t too bad a name. arthur doesn’t say it, but from then on he’s silently rooting for his child to be a girl. maybe a girl would have a better chance of living a civilized, pain-free life, anything unlike his own. as long as they grow up to be as kind as mary-beth, strong like sadie and intelligent like charles or hosea, arthur will be happy. though he doesn’t view himself to be much of a father figure (lord knows he didn’t exactly have much to look up to) arthur promises to protect his child with all that he has until his very last breath. he doesn’t plan on making the same mistakes again.

the 28th week, hosea manages to convince you into taking arthur out of camp. you decide on strawberry, deeming the quaint town to be one of the safer options. there, the first thing you do is take arthur into the general store to buy him some clothes. he’s not far along to bust out of his clothes just yet but you want to make sure he’s got something comfortable for when the time comes. the shirts you buy him are a size or two too big, and though you get a glance or two from the shopkeeper as he watches you drape the large flannel over his body to see if it will ‘fit’, you leave the store pleased with your purchases. there aren’t exactly a large variety of things to do in strawberry which you are silently grateful for; boredom means safety. you and arthur walk through the town, stopping occasionally to give arthur a rest so that he can sketch some flowers and birds in his journal and whatever cat or dog passes by, giving them a pet and a scratch as they make their way through the road. after you tend to your horses, you rent out a room as well as a bath for arthur of which you keep watch outside the door (arthur insisted on washing up alone, much to your disappointment). you practically have your ear pressed against the door before arthur opens it to reveal that he was in fact, still in one piece. strawberry’s hotel was beautiful and homey. in your mind it perfectly encapsulated arthur due to its warmth and closure. in the amber lighting, arthur is like dripping honey, sweet and alluring. in fresh clothes and still somewhat damp from the bath, his body fills out the cream-colored shirt perfectly. the faint outline of his swollen breasts urges you forward and you spend the rest of the night in bed, snuggling into the warm blankets after a slow, passionate endeavor between the sheets. arthur’s out like a light in your arms, his soft breathing like a lullaby, but you don’t get much sleep, instead keeping your eyes on the door and your ears out for any danger. his grasp is comforting, like his presence alone could cure any ailment. your hand falls to his side, just slightly cupped beneath his stomach above his hip and you can feel the faintest thump against your hand and then one more before it’s gone. now you can blame your lack of sleep on the excitement you felt waiting for arthur to wake up to tell him the news.

around 30 weeks is when arthur’s pregnancy takes a small turn. he’s been anxious for the baby since the start, but he’s now suddenly gained this excitement that has his typical pains and nausea pushed away to make room for his new schedule. you return to your shared tent to hand arthur a cup of coffee when you see him cleaning down the tables and cups. some of the clutter had been organized, the pictures safe, pushed the farthest away from the edge as possible. the lantern you kept had the same treatment, unlit and unlikely to fall from the edge. the basket you’d found is tidied, clothed with a soft blanket ( that you assume had been freshly washed considering you vaguely remember seeing it hanging from the clothes line) and set atop a table that rests right next to your cot. the doll sadie brought you sits next to it, still ratty as ever. usually the canvas falls down for complete privacy, but arthur had pulled away one of the ends to keep the sunlight shining in. he always looked ethereal in the morning, as if the sun shone entirely for him. he’s so focused on wiping down every surface he can touch in the tent he doesn’t see you approaching. when he notices you, he doesn’t stop cleaning but he keeps his head down with a shy smile on his face as he greets you good morning. you ask him if grimshaw made him do all this but he shakes his head and tells you with a soft voice, “jus’ felt like it i suppose.” you know that arthur is riddled with anxiety, but his words are just so sweet that you want to hold him close and cry. afterwards, you end up taking the girls into town. you originally only planned for you and abigail to go, but tilly and karen claimed to be painfully bored so now it’s them three, mary-beth, and sadie all tagging along with you. abigail helps you look for baby supplies as the other girls pop into saloons, probably finding folk to rob blind. at some point sadie ends up in the shop with you after throwing some drunkard into an alleyway and leaving with his pocket watch. it feels oddly comforting, just being in town with your friends and shopping for things for your child. you only wished arthur were with you, but the sound of yelling paired with the sight of tilly slapping a man flat across his face right outside of the general store makes you grateful he’s not. thankfully the trip wasn’t for nothing. though you’re not completely prepared (mainly due to the limitations imposed upon you by the lack of baby-prep valentine’s stores possess) you’ve got just about all that you need. and with what can be made by hand right at camp, clothing your child is no longer a concern even with so few store options. on the way back home, abigail had offered you some words of advice. they were blunt, but her words softened upon memory of the bond you shared with arthur. at least you had the choice—her final words of the day evoke a certain strength from you. back with arthur, you watch him eat peaches and strawberries, his hand resting on his stomach. his cheeks are rosy from the sun, and they only become more flush when you tell him how beautiful he looks, like he doesn’t look beautiful every second of every day anyway.

despite your compliments, arthur certainly doesn’t feel beautiful. at 32 weeks, arthur feels horrible. everything hurts, his hips, ankles, back, neck. he can hardly sleep, waking up multiple times at night due to an active bladder, most likely caused by all the kicking and fussing going on in his stomach. grimshaw has been on his heel more often, barking orders at him to sit and lay down if he’d been up on his feet too long. you’ve become victim to more and more of her scolding, partly due to your occasional absence when going out to gather food arthur will eat, and partly due to your ignorance as a soon-to-be parent. thinking about it, the whole camp has been facing grimshaw’s wrath, mostly the slackers who have now been distributed some of your work, allowing you to give arthur more attention. it’s frustrating how much he insists he’s fine, but at some point he can no longer keep up the facade, allowing you to slip a rolled up blanket between his thighs as he rests. he’d been getting a lot more hot at night, so you’ve kept a small tin of water by your bed to dip a rag in to lather some cool water onto his skin. at the very least, arthur’s nausea hasn’t worked itself up again, and he hasn’t thrown up in weeks. his headaches are back however, so you make sure that you bring arthur food he’ll eat enclosed within the comfort of your tent. every now and then you have to run sean or uncle off because they stink of alcohol but are too drunk to get the idea that arthur needs to be left alone. abigail is back to bringing over some tea she’d stashed away, generously letting arthur have the few amounts she had left. it’s definitely the most difficult part of arthur’s pregnancy either of you have had to endure. at least for the most part camp is relatively quiet, the only noise really being some of the chatter during breakfast and dinner, however groups begin to dissipate once the day really gets started and everyone splits off to do their chores. the best you can do for arthur is pull his hat down over his eyes to help with his headache and massage parts of his body that are in pain. unfortunately it’s not much help, the pain only subsiding naturally after hours have passed before coming back the next morning. you’ve tried several different sleeping positions, and only two have helped to lessen the pains, though not by a substantial amount. even through his exhaustion, arthur can look into your eyes and tell you he doesn’t regret a thing. there’s a bit of sarcasm on his tongue to mask his vulnerability, but you know it’s the truth. arthur morgan was never much of a liar anyway. his pains fade away with time, only leaving a dull ache in their wake. peaches are a good distraction, and though you were only able to get him the canned kind, he eats them anyway. he even has enough energy to sit with everyone by the fire before they all head to bed for the night.

2 weeks later at 34, arthur is very exhausted. not only mentally, but physically. the pains are on and off, varying to last for hours or minutes. when he does finally catch a break he doesn’t know what to do with his time. when he has the energy to walk and stand about, he gives his horse some attention like usual, petting them and making sure they’re brushed and that they’ve been fed. his horse bathes in his care, pushing his head into his hand and flicking its tail. his stomach’s big enough that he has to take smaller steps to get around, so it is just a little bit entertaining to see arthur try and bend over to grab some hay for his horse. he can’t blame you for laughing, but he definitely can blame you for getting him pregnant and making him go through all this pain and he will dodge around the conversation when you bring up how it was his decision as well. he has to go sit back down despite only being up for like five minutes, but don’t bring it up or he’ll kick you out of your tent for an hour. arthur becomes a little snuggly between the pain intermissions, he’ll try to scoot as close to you as he possibly can with his belly getting in the way. it’s kind of revolutionary when you discover you can very slightly lift arthur’s belly. it’s relieving enough that arthur can drift off to sleep and not wake up at the times he usually might. he still gets kicked a lot, and laying down with arthur you’ll hear him cursing his unborn child out a lot under his breath. you definitely know what their first words are going to be and it ain’t gonna be pretty. he does think it’s endearing how excited you get when you can feel the baby kicking beneath your hand, but at the same time he’s really grumpy and is momentarily really allergic to fun, sending you a glare everytime you giggle or smile. it’s kind of silly how much of an old man arthur starts acting like when he’s in pain, but you better believe the second the pain goes away he’s feeling like this baby is the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he starts tearing up a little. arthur’s really convinced that he’s not deserving of most good things so he becomes a little anxious, thinking about all the things that might go wrong. the third trimester is a really tough one for him, probably one of the worst states the gang has ever seen him. arthur’s not the easiest guy to lift the mood of but it really does warm his heart at your care and attention when you attempt to put him into a position that might put less stress on his body. he ends up keeping a grumpy reputation even when he’s walking about painlessly but most people like to joke about how pregnant arthur isn’t any different to normal arthur, complaining about back pain and acting like everyone’s a nuisance. which isn’t entirely unwarranted, considering even you find yourself having to drive away some of the nosier camp members who offer ‘assistance’ to get out of doing any real work outside of drinking and sleeping all day. hosea’s told you that everything is under control. him and dutch have probably had hundreds of conversations since they discovered arthur’s pregnancy. hosea most certainly doesn’t blame arthur for his work leave, but you can only hope that at least dutch will give him a break to let him rest after he gives birth. you envision dutch with his hands on his hips, barking orders to your newborn. it’s not particularly something you'd look past him doing.

36 weeks and grimshaw has finished setting up a separate tent for arthur. it’s mostly empty at the moment, aside from a cot that resides in the middle. there aren’t many supplies inside but she says she’ll get everything when the time comes, that time being when arthur goes into labor of course. tilly’s become a little anxious which you guess is because she’s been assigned grimshaw’s backup to help with delivering arthur’s baby alongside abigail. mary-beth also seems a little on edge, though she appears just a bit more excited than tilly. grimshaw’s ordered you to keep close to arthur, saying that if anything goes wrong he needs you there to assist her in helping him. all of a sudden the cheery atmosphere at camp turns into a dark cloud of anxiety that seems to only be raining over you and arthur. grimshaw’s cynicism is expected, though you’d hoped there’d be a little less to be worried about than your brain was telling you. abigail tries to ease your worries realistically. birthin’ ain’t easy but his body will know what to do. abigail’s still here ain’t she? and so is jack, and they’re fine. you don’t expect his birth to have been anything less than long and difficult, but she’s not wrong. arthur is strong. he’ll get through it. and if he doesn’t then his baby will, because arthur won’t let anything happen to his child, you know that much. you try your best to spend the last weeks of his pregnancy as normal as possible. arthur’s appetite hasn’t budged, he’s still eating peach and rabbit with violet snowdrop rubs and some sort of herb that charles managed to get arthur to eat without causing a wave of nausea. strauss says his diet could be better but at least he’s eating. he seemed a little underweight but not dangerously so. his belly is the typical size for thirty-six weeks, fat and round and in the way, as arthur likes to mention. his flannels keep him warm at night despite the occasional hot flashes. oddly, he doesn’t seem all that worried. you consider the idea that he might have just tired himself out worrying the entire first two trimesters but arthur tells you that for the second time in his life he’s entirely sure of what he wants (the first being you) and what he wants right now is his damn baby. it’s very heroically arthur, the way he says it with his drawl hanging off his words and his mouth full of peach. you don’t know how he does it, always staying strong despite the misery he’s forced to put up with. his fly is folded down to make room for his stomach that looks like it’s threatening to pop the damn buttons off his flannel but he’s still resilient as ever. even when he finishes his can of peaches and looks at you with such dejection as he reluctantly asks for another, he is absolutely gorgeous.

38 weeks and arthur wakes up with some, what you realize now, are contractions. it’s early in the morning where the only people awake are grimshaw and dutch. in about an hour or so the rest of camp will begin to stir. arthur doesn’t wake you up at first, assuming they were just regular pains. when the first wave rides out, he takes a deep breath and gets up to try and start his day. he’s not hungry, though he’s incredibly thirsty so he downs two cups of water before another wave of contractions begin. you’re not entirely sure how long they last, or how long they’ve been lasting, but by the time the sun has risen half the camp is awake now, and more importantly the girls and strauss are awake. you hurry over to grimshaw first and she has to ask you to slow down so you can properly tell her what’s wrong. she says something about it being early, early in the morning? early in the pregnancy? you can’t hear straight at the moment. arthur is trying to take deep breaths and the pain seems to be getting to him. you feel like you want to cry at the sight. grimshaw strikes you across the face, not too hard but certainly not delicately. it wakes you up and you can hear her now as she speaks to you. more hours have passed and arthur has been moved to the new tent. you’re crouched at his side, hovering but staying out of the way as grimshaw makes her way between strauss’ tent and the one arthur resides in. you try to stay calm so as to not pass your anxiety onto arthur, but he seems right as rain, breathing through the pain and letting you hold his hand that starts to feel wet coated with your nerves. you seem to be more scared than arthur, which both worries you more and also fills you with pride at his courage. you can only focus on arthur and the sweat that drips down his forehead, either from the pain or heat or stress. in an odd way you’d rather not know which one. thankfully he’s wearing a particularly large shirt so it doesn’t look like it’s too tight around his stomach. you unbutton it anyway, giving him some breathing room. at some point grimshaw takes off arthur’s pants, but she doesn’t seem concerned. from where you’re sitting you can’t see what’s happening. she’s focused, not talking unless she tells arthur to sit or lay down a certain way. at the very least she doesn’t mention anything about bleeding. at some point she tells you to get out to give everyone some space and you almost yell at her to let you stay but arthur is the final voice of reason who looks at you with such conviction you can’t even get a word out. you’re hesitant to go but charles comes in with a bowl and towels in hand and reassures you that everything will be fine. your legs move on their own, mary-beth even guiding you out of the tent before she’s directed back in by grimshaw. you’re at least greeted by hosea whose voice drowns out the chatter behind you. he walks you to a table, his hand on your back with friendly sentiment. some of the other camp members drop their chores to talk to you (only for a moment though, knowing grimshaw will get on their case if nothing gets done) but everyone’s presence just feels ghostly, like nothing is real. your blood runs cold. your hands are shaking so much you have to hold the cup of water hosea offers you with both of them. you can’t even take a sip because you’re certain it’ll just wind up on the ground and be a total waste. you keep looking back at the tent, it’s so far away you can’t hear the chatter but you occasionally see mary-beth coming out to fetch something from strauss’ wagon. when your eyes focus enough you can see some blood on her dress.

it’s hours before abigail comes up to you. you’re not entirely sure how long it’s been, having been dozed in and out of sleep, but when you stand up your legs are numb and shaking from the stress put onto them. thank god, the first thing she tells you is that he’s alive, and so is the baby. you almost faint pushing through the tent, your eyes jumping to arthur’s exhausted form. he’s holding your baby in his arms who’s currently wrapped up in a light green blanket. you have a healthy baby girl is what abigail says when you crouch down next to arthur. she’s got some dark hair on her head, almost reminiscent to arthur’s where there’s some shimmery, somewhat gold color that shines through when the light of the lantern hits it. you’re so close to arthur that you can feel the heat radiating off of him like he’d been doused in melted copper. he’s crying, or he was crying since you can see his eyes are glossy and tinted red at the corners. he offers you to hold the baby, and hesitantly you take her into your arms. she’s so small and fragile. her skin looks flawless, her puffy face perfectly crafted. she’s making the softest noises, almost so quiet you can barely hear them over the sound of you and arthur breathing. grimshaw tells arthur something you can’t focus on enough to hear. your daughter wriggles gently in your hands and (very delicately) arthur takes her back into his own to help feed her. tilly’s beside you now, taking arthur’s abandoned clothes to wash them up. before she leaves she asks you what you’re gonna name her. it’s not much of a question by this point. beatrice, of course. you’d read it somewhere in arthur’s journal and his lack of reaction to her question proves to you that the name had been set in stone for a while now anyway. beatrice’s eyes peer up at you, hazy and pure. they bloom with color, blue and grey like a cloudy sky with the sun peeking out to burst into gold just slightly. she makes a little huff that has your face finally cracking into some emotion. knocked awake out of your daze you can see arthur’s color on his cheeks, his eyes still glossy and hopeful and alive. he looks at you with so much love as he wipes away the tears falling from your eyes. later in the night, beatrice is whisked away to be swaddled into a new blanket of which the next morning she bursts out of with a stronger perseverance than you expected out of a newborn. dutch luckily grants both you and arthur some time to spend with each other and beatrice. it takes immense effort to get everyone away, and though unfortunately a few strays make their way into your tent to say hello to your daughter, things don’t feel as bad anymore. arthur doesn’t bother trying to get on his feet, not even to defend his daughter from curious eyes. you've had jack on his tippy-toes trying to see her, mary-beth gushing with a little toy in her grasp as she attempts to entertain beatrice, and even kieran and sadie among the shadows to observe in silence, but arthur only sighs in a stubborn acceptance. grimshaw’s presence alone is reassuring of her safety, but your confident voice and tender expression is what helps arthur drift to sleep to get at least an hour or two of rest. he doesn’t tell you the details of the birth, though the lack of yelling and screaming should probably be enough to reassure you things went fine for the most part. arthur is tense in sleep, every coo from beatrice causing a stutter or jolt from his body. still, he eventually wakes with high-spirits, his eyes sunken but filled with solace. your daughter still breathes, alive and healthy, along with arthur. you don’t take your luck for granted—both you and arthur got more than you could have ever imagined possible. beatrice is heaven scooped up in your arms, and though arthur can’t speak due to a mouth full of peach, he’s thinking the exact same thing.

#arthur morgan x male reader #rdr2 x male reader #my writngs #ftm character #afab character #top male reader #arthur morgan x reader #ik this is lowkey boring as hell lol but i promise i have another thing in the works #just wanted to get this out because i thought it was cute #any spelling or formatting errors are no longer any of my concern btw...#also im soo sleep deprived lmao

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darqx · 6 days ago

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Pick up the receiver I'll make you a believer

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

After doodling the first image that hug body slam meme immediately came to mind and i couldn't help myself 😂

Thanks very much I'm glad you are enjoying my art and characs! :D

To put the answer simply, Rire used to work for the prior King as a Collector (of souls) and he was that King's only Collector and so got the brunt of his ire for any related, perceived fault. Aside from that personal connection Rire also really disliked him because he viewed the prior king as a useless glutton who failed at ruling a sector (conditions were tanking/had tanked for ages), and which the Royal powers were wasted on.

Almost all of his sunglasses are actually normal human sunglasses, he can just see better than a human can 😎

Anything can be a kink, anon :d

Boring victims are often exceptionally weak-willed victims so that's something in particular he dislikes.

Yes he can play the piano and violin, and horseback ride and ballroom dance etc. Put it this way he has a lot of particular small skills that he picked up during his Earth visits so he could hide in plain sight with the upper echelons XD

Not like how a snake or cat hisses which is what I'm assuming you're implying XDDD He can't bite off a limb (his mouth ain't that big) but his teeth are very sharp so he can feasibly take a chunk out of someone or like, completely bite off something smaller (finger, ear...)

I havent added to it in a while (since I dont often find songs I like enough to actually download lol) but this is my current playlist for him in no particular order:

Anon, the fact you capitalised "Aliens" made me think of Xenomorphs and I had to immediately stop thinking 🤣

On a side note, I can't actually tell you either way because he hasn't encountered an alien (that isn't a demon or a human) lol. He'd probably initially treat an alien much like he would treat a common demon, if they are obviously not human, and then if he realises they are also not quite a demon this could peak his interest.

Pointing you in this direction because regardless of the canon answer this proves he could look good in one LMAO

Sorry to burst your bubble but no :d Though I suppose he could simulate the effect by reverting parts of them to their "liquid" state 🤔 DO WITH THAT INFO WHAT YOU WILL.

It is theoretically similar to a human's.

If you can remember his age then that is how old he is :d I'm not really like other creators who give their characs a definitive "birthday" down to the year, mainly because I don't often have set "time periods" in my stories lol.

His birth date falls somewhere between late October - late November though.

In the context of BTD; they just don't like each other XD Well I can't actually speak for Cain, but Rire not liking Cain is partly a riff on general angel/demon rivalry dynamics, and partly because Rire would see Cain as more of a threat since canonically Cain is way more OP than him.

Most of the time when i draw them Cain is also actively getting in Rire's space whilst Rire is actively trying to avoid him, so there's also that XD

It...depends. On which aspect of "ownership" you're implying. For those that he has deals with, he'd calculate what exactly the value of the deal lost would be and in this situation he'd likely write them off as Cain would be more annoying to handle then they'd be worth (he can always make more deals).

If someone was specifically marked by Rire, that's a different level of possessiveness and he'd actually try cos like

Hey guys some offence but why are some of you sending me asks formatted as if i were ChatGPT

Is there one for like, personal ambition or cunning or something cos I don't think he'd be any of those listed lol.

Rire doesn't have a mobile phone and he doesn't need one because he has a demon power that basically CCTVs all his citizens to himself. And really, if he wants to find you he'll find you.

He's somewhere in the middle of that scale through the sheer fact that he's been around long enough to see technology change and would've kept up with how to use things to blend in better, but also doesn't need to use the electronics to the point that he'd need to be an expert at it.

Is this cos Gato is Canadian cos I don't remember a country location being specified when we did it? |D Personally I figured most of the settings were in the US since the US has the most documented serial killers

Also sos no i dont anon, you'll need to either ask Gato or EP or dig through any of their lore posts they might have left.

Think kind of like Rire (he did learn a lot from her after all), but with a more Elizabethan era socialite vibe. Possibly a black widow but we dont have any proof about that.

Has/had a p good relationship. I use both terms because I still never decided whether she was currently dead or not lol.

Lol a misconception but Rire doesn't actually perceive humans as trash XD Trash suggests that he hates them and they wouldn't be worth regarding at all, whereas Rire usually finds them more like...novelties. Or like whatever that feeling that is associated with viewing ant farms or animals performing tricks is. Rire's mother would view them as more like working animals or livestock.

#boyfriend to death #rire answer dump #art #doodle #answer dump #long post #so funny story before posting this RAD i decided to fix up the html/css for my tumblr cos out of dash the inline images were too big #and as i was doing that i finally discovered that tumblr neue post type REALLY dont have any differentiation as to what type of post it #which is SO ANNOYING as it made what i wanted to do near impossible 🙄#luckily most of my neue RADs and answer dumps have a title so i had to specifically target the existence of that element 🫤

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k1ng-ej · 7 days ago

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I got you for Michael >:) Can you pls do Michael with a fem or gn s/o that is just unabashedly clingy? Like always wants to be around him, hugging him, and is honestly flattered by him following them around everywhere?

Myers with a clingy s/o

Note: ive never done posts in this kind of format, i usually write full on oneshots so this is very different for me. im sorry if its short or lacking

Michael would probably be confused at first, doesn't understand why you constantly want to be around him.

He isn't used to physical affection, so don't expect him to reciprocate. He would push you away at first.

Eventually he will get used to you always hugging him, and will only give you a half hug back. Physical affection isn't his strong suit and he isn't used to it.

Michael is usually the one who follows people around, so when you always end up places he is and you're trailing behind him with a look of curiosity in your eye, there is probably just the smallest blush beneath that horrifying mask, you're either very brave or just stupid for keeping so close to a man who has committed several murders. Either way, he's flattered that you seem to like being around him so much.

If you try to follow him when he goes out he will give you a stern stare and push you back into the house. You're not allowed to follow him when he goes on his sprees. His way of protecting you.

On the rare occasion he sits on the couch with you he will let you lean on him or rest your head in his lap. A lot of the affection is one sided and he doesn't show any discomfort nor like towards your clinginess. He's neutral about it and lets you do what makes you happy.

Overall he is chill, but confused and maybe a little charmed, even though he won't show it.

also my writing discord is still up ^^ join here

#x reader #oneshot #slasher fanfiction #michael myers x reader #michael myers #slashers x reader #fluff #slasher fluff #michael myers fluff #michael myers x you #michael myers oneshot #slashers #slashfic #mikeyreqs

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straightouttherosebush · 4 months ago

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King's Dead

Character: Leona Kingscholar

Synopsis: Fluff alphabet for my favorite catboy (template from @snk-warriors), because it's a good format for a romantic/fluffy headcanon post (this might become my niche pookies I'm ngl.)

Content Warning: Fem/AFAB Reader, a teensy bit of spice if you squint, sorry if there is anything I missed ;-;;

(This song is so him so I named the post after it :D)

Activities (What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free-time with them?)

On his own, he is usually lazing around or occupied with Spelldrive training and Housewarden duties. He usually doesn't give others the time of day, either. He makes an exception for you and will go out of his way to ask if you'd like to play Spelldrive with the team. He'll also invite you to his room to just be in each other's presence, talk, and sometimes the both of you end up wrestling/play-fighting. I feel like he'd do that with a partner and it's something he does when he really opens up to someone.

Beauty (What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?)

I headcanon that he likes thick people, but he doesn't care too much about how people look. He admires determination, diligence, ruggedness and intelligence. He loves being challenged and watching you attempt to run him ragged in any way, shape, or form intrigues him. It keeps him on his feet and relieves his boredom. A little bit of spice here but he is 100% an ass man, the jiggle scratches his cat brain the right way =3

Comfort (How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack, etc.?)

Leona would genuinely panic when you're upset. He isn't really the best at soothing people, so he'll just give you a big tight hug and let you cry into his chest, patting/scratching your head. Otherwise, if you're stressed over something or panicking, he'd basically ask "Do you want my advice, or do you just want me to listen?" He leaves it up to you, and it's his attempt to be considerate of your feelings.

Dreams (How do they picture a future with their s/o?)

He could only hope that either he somehow takes the throne of his homeland and you are there to join him, or you two live a peaceful life in the Afterglow Savannah. On the inside, he craves nothing but a domestic life, and an easy one for his s/o. You make him feel important for once, so he wants to return the favor, his idea of that being ease and comfort for the rest of your days.

Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

100% dominant. While his general demeanor is passive, you'd be surprised how quickly that changes around you.

Fight (Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?)

He is not one to forgive easily, so he holds grudges. If it's his s/o, he tends to be a bit more lenient, but if he feels like he isn't being listened to or heard out, he'll just say "whatever" or something of the like and distance himself. He doesn't like wasting breath and energy, but he's still mad. You two make up eventually, but he's not the one going out of his way to apologize or kiss ass unless he actually feels he did something wrong.

Gratitude (How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o does for them?)

He is very perceptive, so he knows what you do for him and, while he doesn't tell you outright or necessarily thank you, he does something subtle for you in return. He is grateful, so much as to make himself useful if necessary.

Honesty (Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?)

He opens up more and more as the relationship progresses, though he isn't super forthcoming in general. He especially isn't really open about his family or secret feelings of inadequacy. Pre and post overblot.

Inspiration (Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?)

He might be moved to slightly broaden his diet, and he might try harder to work on keeping tidier on his own (definitely not because Ruggie regularly gripes about cleaning up after him, he couldn't give less of a shit tbh.) You're one of the only people outside his family whose opinion of him even remotely matters. He's gunna try to uphold the image of him that you have in your mind, against his better judgement.

Jealousy (Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

Yes, he does get extremely jealous. As I said before, he is very perceptive (as are all beastmen, especially felines) so he can tell when someone is hitting on you from facial expressions and body language alone. He mainly gets upset because of his inferiority complex so he feels the need to make sure everyone knows that you're with him. He is usually able to scare off anyone either talking to you or flirting with you regardless, so it isn't a problem for him unless you seem to reciprocate. Even then, he doesn't necessarily blame you because he knows you're being nice to keep your skin.

Kiss (Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?)

He is surprisingly good at kissing and his kisses are hungry and passionate. You kissed him on the cheek after pausing and staring at him for a while. You turned to walk off, and he chuckled at you while you were still close enough to hear. He thought it was really cute and was so taken aback, it was on his mind throughout the day. So, when you meet up after classes at his dorm, the first thing he does is literally make out with you. He has to try hard not to let it turn into anything else, as much as he wants it to. He gladly respects your wishes. "Thereee ya go, got what you wanted. Just ask me next time. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Love Confession (How would they confess to their s/o?)

"Hey herbivore, you're cute. No, really. I mean it. Wanna make somethin' happen?" He'd just nonchalantly spit it out at some point. You two could have been literally anywhere and he would have still been this casual about it. He isn't really one for huge gestures or drawn-out confessions. Just plain and simple. He would be a little nervous but that's something he can easily shove down.

Marriage (Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?)

Leona has the thought of marriage in the back of his mind. His family badgers him about it, and would even more if they found out that you were in the picture. Out of spite, he has sworn that he doesn't wanna get married. However, sometimes he sees the actions you take and the way you act and he thinks about you as his wife and the domesticity together, it awakens something within him. He gets a little mushy about it, but overall, he isn't getting married for a WHILE. A proposal from him would sound something like "I've been thinking on this for a bit and they will NOT get off my ass back home so... wanna get hitched?" He'll have the ring and everything, but isn't taking a knee or any of the typical stuff. He brings it up just as casually as the way he asked you out. "Mrs. Kingscholar... has a ring to it yeah? Ohhh come 'ere, stop bawlin' yer eyes out." he chuckled as he pulls your face into his chest while you cry tears of joy, his eyes clenched shut with the biggest smile he can muster.

Nickname (What do they call their s/o?)

Herbivore, Omnivore (if he's feeling nice), Hon will rarely slip out, mainly those because he isn't a pet-name person.

On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

When this beastman is in love, he becomes slightly more enthusiastic and generous and seems a little bit less tired whenever the object of his affection enters a room or interacts with him. Ruggie takes notice, teases him, Leona scoffs and rolls his eyes, the world keeps turning. It is only obvious to Ruggie because he's close to Leona, but nobody else can really tell that he's in love (he totally holds the crush over Leona's head btw, I also headcanon that bro can actually be a killer wingman.) He pretty much looks and acts normal, aside from the energy bursts. This shows in dorm Spelldrive practice, and the Savanaclaw students will remark on it, not really knowing why he's like this and sore because their asses are getting kicked. Nothing new, but worse than usual.

PDA (Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?)

He isn't upfront per se, but he's definitely not scared for people to know that you two are a thing. He doesn't brag but he has subtle ways of being affectionate. Whether it's his hand casually holding your waist or his tail brushing against you whenever he passes by, he's always subtly staking his claim. He will kiss you in front of someone and stare that someone dead in the eye with this threatening glare if he's jealous enough. (This should have been in the jealousy category technically BUT it's also PDA so... idk bro you be the judge.)

Quirk (Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship)

I can name a few One thing that makes him an absolute catch is the fact that he actually respects women/AFAB people. Respect really shouldn't be a lot to ask, but you would be hard-pressed to find it. Leona is actually a gentleman at heart. It was how he was raised and he is actually pretty morally upstanding, all things considered. Even moreso post-overblot. Second thing- the lion ears. I have been WAITING for my chance to talk about them. They're so cute and so soft to the touch, it makes him even more attractive, having them. That and he uses his enhanced hearing to sometimes find you and sneak up on you for fun. Though he does let you touch them, never in public. He turns into a cub when you pet him like that. He is very particular about when he wants to be touched period, and can get annoyed/overstimulated quickly, so just be careful. That and he can sometimes seem lazy, but this makes for some pretty great off-days/nights where you guys stay in and cuddle/nap together. He has Ruggie pick up some food (you end up helping Ruggie out a bit and secretly Leona adores seeing this,) and you guys are just set for the time being.

Support (Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?)

Honestly? Purely circumstantial. If he isn't interested, then he won't involve himself too much aside from baseline mental/physical support and advice (if you ask for it.) However, he sees a spark in his s/o and tries to motivate them to keep pushing. Sometimes it can seem harsh, but he's pretty good at tough love. Everyone needs a little "Hey, tell that doubt to shut the fuck up and try your damnedest. I know you can do it, that's gotta count for something."

Thrill (Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?)

Perfect question for this character because yes, he absolutely needs to keep things interesting. He gets bored easily, and started dating a spunky person for a reason. He enjoys being tested, teased, and surprised, despite how he appears to dislike it. Whether it's making bets on things or physically play-fighting over things (he never initiates that btw, he leaves it up to you,) he will try anything to keep things refreshing and fun. The way he sees it is that it keeps the relationship alive.

Understanding (How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?)

He pays attention to things you say and do more often than you think he does, so it comes as a shock to you when he can remember things you said months ago, verbatim, so easily. Usually he's a huge listener, but that just means he has more time to store info away in his cat noggin. He knows you really well, as he notices and takes in everything. He is very observational. Sometimes he'll even cave and get you things because you looked like you wanted something because you were too broke and/or too scared to ask. "Use your words next time, herbivore. You're in luck today." As for empathy...? 50/50. He is generally sympathetic, but he tends to block out empathy to get things done or go through with certain plans. He feels everyone but can't always care about what they think/feel. It'll weigh too much on him and it's not his job to fix people. For his partner, however? He can make exceptions.

Value (How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

He didn't expect your relationship to last as long as it has, so it colored him impressed. Once he realized how long it has been, he was willing to take it more seriously and thus it held more worth to him. As for the worth of the relationship generally, on the scale of priorities you're top 3-5 unless you're in immediate danger or have something special going on (whether good or bad)(in any of those circumstances, you'd be #1 at those moment.) He loves you, but he has his own priorities and responsibilities. Doesn't mean he doesn't think about you though. <3

Wild Card (A random Fluff Headcanon)

Okokok soooo I'm a little chunky and I was thinking (like any normal person does, surely,) "what would my fav twst character (this bastard lmao) think about that?" That said, my headcanon is that Leona actually likes a little chunk on the bones. He sees that as you being "well-fed," if anything. He would offer to help his partner work out and diet if they so desired, but reassures them that they look fine regardless. He, of course, does this bluntly. Same ol' Leona, yeah, but he means it. Suuuuper personal headcanon but I hope you guys like this one :3

XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?)

He likes to cuddle, and he will also sometimes bite/nibble on you (neck, ear, even arms sometimes.) He has to be in a mood to be affectionate, but when he is it's absolutely adorable to see his catlike mannerisms

Yearning (How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?)

He just goes about this normal life and distracts himself with it or sleeps it off. BONUS: Angst/sadness, if you left the Twisted Wonderland- (I feel like this lowkey fits so just hear me out-) He would never be the same after you left, and he would be more angsty, exhausted, and upset. He would sulk around for months upon months until he realized there was no point. The resignation hit him and he just one day realized that there was nothing he could do. He eventually moved on with a different outlook on life... all... because of you. He put no effort into finding love again.

Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?)

He is fiercely loyal, so once the relationship is serious and you guys are locked in, he would do anything short of murder if justified, and even that's debatable under the right circumstances. Do not try to take this for granted, though. He's loyal, not stupid.

This took me FOUR hoursss! I hope you guys like this as much as I do because oH MY LORDD I am eepy :0

So long omnivores, Rosey <3

Masterlist is HERE!

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hanfourz · 5 months ago

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HI POOKIES i'm soso busy this week i can barely read anything here omg </3 but i loved your latests work, vamp riwoo especially... wow. happy november btw !!! i also find nnn super funny for some reason, how do you think the bonedo legal line would be like during nnn? :p

— 🐈‍⬛

🪼- oh i feel u, it's been kinda crazy lately (ᵕ—ᴗ—) thank u so much!!! im so glad u liked vamp!riwoo. as a riwoo fangs enthusiast i Had to do it. it's so funny bc cherry literally was just talking abt how she wants to do a post abt bnd doing nnn and then we saw this 😭

🍒 - im so sorry for letting this rot for so long 😭 i will try my best to explain so. it's so funny cuz i literally talked about it with ki right before we got the ask! great minds think alike☺️

warnings: SMUT [MDNI!!!], hc format, mentions of oral (f. rec), light mentions of bondage (kinda), cocky taesan & leehan lolol

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ sungho

give it a week until he falls down on his knees (quite literally). you just look so beautiful how could he NOT want to eat you out on the spot? (of course, you never wanted to admit to yourself that you badly needed it too) but knowing how obsessed he is, seeing you dressed up... you should've known the night would end with him in between your legs.

↘ rest under read more !

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ riwoo

i give it two weeks until he's way too horny and is begging you to touch him. while you refuse because you enjoy teasing him so much. he was so confident about making it through the whole month. now he's laying on the bed, tied up, waiting for you to touch him :( and how could you deny him when he whines so prettily for you?

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ jaehyun

poor guy wouldn't even last 5 seconds. :( he's so obsessed with you. he's like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time when he sees you. doesn't matter what you're doing or how you look or how long you've been together or how often he gets to touch you. he's begging you to let him touch you, even though you both decided together to participate. you should have known neither of you were gonna last. you can't get enough of each other.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ taesan

either two seconds or he's pulling it through, no in between. you two make it like a competition to see who'll last longer. he gets needy like halfway through but he will never admit it to himself, he's so annoyingly overconfident. and he would rather die than lose to you. so he teases you until you're the one begging for him then teases you for not being able to last. like he wasn't purposely putting his hands on your tits or making you sit on his lap...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ leehan

3 weeks until he gives in. when you tell him that you want to participate he's like "you sure you can live without my cock for a whole month?". you decide to teach his cocky attitude a lesson and you try everything to rile him up. (which really isn't difficult to do.) "you're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" what, you? never! "what do you mean? i haven't done anything." you bat your eyes at him, feigning innocence. he grabs you by your waist. "just say you want me too, and I'll give it to you" but you will not give him the satisfaction, you refuse to lose against leehan's charm. no matter how tempting it is. "i don't need anything, but it seems like you're the one who can't keep his dick inside of his pants. you just need to say that i won." is all you say and he decides he needs to fuck that smirk off your face.

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mirrology · 11 months ago

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Can I ask a boothill with an adopted child/teen reader that's hps (hyper sensitive) and also has parental trauma

(You don't have to do this if you feel uncomfortable 🐧)

ノstar .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ No matter that love's gone, We just see it shining. We've traveled very far, I'll keep a leftover light burning. So you can keep looking up, Isn't that worth holding on? — star, mitski.

boothill & gender neutral reader. platonic | wc: 1.6k

tags/warnings: decided to go with hc's for this one since I didn't know how to write it in fic format T_T. teen reader, reader is a galaxy ranger and really well versed in technology. they can fight pretty well, reader also hates the ipc. boothill is a bad influence. mentioned child abuse, child neglect, reader has a "mom" and acts a little like blade when near her, erm character death (not reader or boothill)

notes: aaaa sorry that this is so late! Hopefully, this is what you meant by "hypersensitive." If not, then just let me know, and I'll change it, ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

— The two of you met when you were beating up some IPC goons on a planet that they had recently wanted to take over. You had been there gathering materials to set sail to your next destination, you were on the hunt for a certain IPC employee. One who you once knew.

— You couldn't just stand back and watch those IPC scum send that planet into spiraling chaos. So, of course, you beat them up without breaking a sweat. That's where Boothill had found you, he was impressed that someone so young had such skill in combat.

↳ You huffed as the remaining IPC personnel ran away with their tails between their legs. A slow sound of applause came from behind you, causing you to turn around, a deadpan evident on your face. You were met with a man with dual colored hair and what seemed to be a metal body, “I'm not gonna lie, you've got skills, kid.” He had said, a smirk on his face.

— Once the both of you got to talking, he found out you were also a galaxy ranger and that you also absolutely hated the IPC, you both really had many things in common. You had asked him for help in getting to your destination and he agreed pretty easily, claiming that he had “some time to spare”

— Although you had spent little time together, you felt comfortable around him, he never pushed your boundaries or forced you to do things you didn't want to. Boothill’s vocabulary surprised you, instead of cursing normally his words were censored. You would have offered to try to fix his synesthesia beacon, but just the thought of touching someone made your skin crawl. The ghostly touches of people who you once considered family etched onto your skin.

— Once it came to part ways, you didn't want to do so. You shyly admitted to Boothill that the thought of not seeing him scared you a tad bit. He looked surprised but then gave you a bright smile and told you that you could join him on his adventures, and so a strong bond between the both of you was born.

— When Boothill infiltrated the IPC headquarters you're the one who hacked into their system. With your experience, it was relatively easy, although Boothill would not let you go inside with him. He couldn't risk putting you in danger, even though he knows you can put up a fight.

— When the both of you escaped the headquarters after causing absolute chaos, Boothill brought his hand up to your head as he tried to ruffle your hair. He was surprised and slightly hurt when you tensed up and quickly moved out of the way.

— Boothill thought he had made you scared of him somehow, even though you had no reason to be afraid. You noticed his downcast expression and you quickly told him that he did nothing wrong, it was just…

↳ Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands were sweating. You reached up and gripped a strand of your hair in your hand as a sheepish expression painted your face. “I'm not the best with physical touch,” You blurted out, albeit bluntly. “Whenever someone touches me — even if it's just a brush of their fingers, it feels like needles are being stuck into my skin” You huffed, clenching your fist and your eyes downcast. Boothill's expression softened, his once frown lifting into an understanding smile. “Thanks for telling me, bud.” He nodded, his fingers twitching at his side, as if wanting to reach out to you. Yet he respected your space and refrained from doing so.

— Now that Boothill knew about your hypersensitivity he made no attempts to touch you, preferring to give you gifts instead. Whenever you do something that makes him proud as a father would a child; he takes you out to get your favorite food as a treat. Of course verbal encouragement is also a thing he does, giving you a “I'm proud of ya’ kid!” and a pointy grin.

— It's canon Boothill is pretty wealthy from all of those bounties that he hunts and he doesn't exactly know what to do with it. So he definitely spoils you at every chance he gets. Want a nice Keychain you saw in a shop? He's handing it to you right now. How about a nice piece of clothing or a cultural food from the planet that you're visiting? He's got the clothing in a bag and is urging you to try the food.

— Even though you both have your moments of happiness, the both of you still have purposes you stick to. You had gotten a lead on where that person was and you were going to do everything to catch up to them and make them get what they deserved.

↳ “You.” You hissed walking towards the woman in an IPC uniform, kicking another unconscious employee away. You gripped your weapon tightly in your hand, the woman widened her eyes in terror at your sudden appearance, she fell on her bottom, scooting away from you as you approached her. As she backed away she didn't go far, her back hitting a wall not too long after. Your unhurried footsteps resonated through her ears, making her breath pick up as she clutched the dirt underneath her in an attempt to ground herself.

You stopped in front of her, eyes full of unbridled anger. “(N-name)?!” She squeaked, putting a hand out infront of her to reach out to you. “What are.. how are you-” She was cut off as the back of your weapon slapped her intruding hand away. “You don't get to say my name.” You glared at her, your tone icy cold and unforgiving. She tried to speak once more but was once again cut off, “You left me to die! If it wasn't for my quick thinking, I would have been dead by now!” You said in a firm tone and pointed your weapon straight at her, leaving her no room to move or else you would attack.

The woman tensed up and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her cheek, “Honey… I had no choice! You would only weigh me down, you have to understand!” She had the gall to call you “honey” this woman no longer had the honor of doing so. The words stung, even though you no longer felt any affection for her… they brought back memories that you would rather forget. You clenched your teeth and watched as she rambled on and on about how “it was for your own good” and that “you should try to understand her situation” before she would get another word out, you sound your weapon, officially slicing her throat.

The blood splattered onto your stoic face, you watch as she choked on her own blood, eyes wide and filled with panic as if her life was flashing before her eyes… you hope it hurts.

A set of footsteps came from behind you, judging by the jingling of metal and their heavy footsteps you could tell who it was. You reluctantly turned around to meet Boothill's concerned gaze, “Er.. ya’ okay kiddo?” He scratched the side of his face as he pointed out the tears that prickled at the corner of your eyes. You stared at the ground and slowly nodded “I don't entirely hate her, but she didn't deserve to know that… even in her last moment” You muttered as more salty tears filled your vision.

— You and Boothill headed back to your ship, all while you were still occasionally shedding tears. Boothill, seeing the state you were in, offered you a warm, fluffy blanket and a warm drink; hot chocolate.

↳ You sniffled and held the blanket that was over your shoulders to your chest. You were sat on a cushion on the floor of yours and Boothill’s ship, knees tucked towards your chest in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. “Heya kiddo, I got ya’ some hot chocolate…” Boohill plopped down next to you on a matching cushion and held out the mug that was in his robotic hand. His hand was placed below the mug so when you reached to get it, you both wouldn't accidentally brush fingers.

The both of you sat in a pregnant silence and you occasionally sipping on the warm drink provided to you. Boothill stared at you from the corner of his eye, your gaze was focused on the window, giving you the view of the vast space. “She was my mother, you know” You suddenly broke the silence with your blunt words, Boothill’s eyes widened a significant amount, yet you continued.

“Even though she claimed to love me, her actions hurt and her words even more.” You put your mug down beside you and snuggled further into the blanket. The cyborg's face softened into something different, almost sad, distraught. His teeth clenched in anger at the thought of you being hurt by that woman, something ugly bloomed in his mechanical chest.

“But now she's gone,” Boothill started, making you turn your head to look at him with a surprised expression. “She can't hurt you anymore nor anyone, not when I'm around” He grinned, his shark-like teeth out on display. Something in your chest felt warm, it was different but not unpleasant. You offered Boothill a small smile then took a deep breath and raised your pinky up, “Pinky promise?” your voice a bit shaky, but your eyes were filled with determination.

Boothill slowly brought his pinky up, gently intertwining it with yours. They were barely touching but it was progress, “Promise.” The cyborg nodded firmly.

Tears pricked at you eyes, not in sadness nor anger, but relief.

“Thank you.”

#꒰৯ ໒꒱ 𝓜irrology says...#꒰৯ ໒꒱ 𝓗onkai: star rail #honkai star rail #platonic relationships #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr platonic #hsr x reader #hsr x reader platonic #hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #platonic hsr #platonic hsr x reader #boothill x y/n #platonic boothill #honkai star rail x reader

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chlix · 2 years ago

Text

to do what i can do

pairing: seungmin x f!reader

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6.1k

warnings: insecurity, light angst, exactly three (3) uses of "y/n"

synopsis: after a conversation with hyunjin's girlfriend, you grow worried that you aren't putting enough work and attention into your relationship. seungmin dissuades you of this idea immediately.

a/n: literally never done this before so sorry if this formatting isn't standard. also ignore any spelling errors pls <3

Seungmin kisses you goodbye every morning. It’s like clockwork: he puts on his shoes, pours his coffee in a mug, kisses you goodbye, and is out the door. Both of you are routine-oriented people. You like schedules and organized silverware drawers. Ever since you first got together, Seungmin has been kissing you goodbye whenever you part ways, and nearly a year later that hasn’t changed. It’s sweet that he always remembers, and the fact that it’s practiced doesn’t make it feel any less sincere.

This morning is more of the same. You get up before him, as always, and put the coffee on. You check your emails while your breakfast cooks. Seungmin emerges just as the food is done (too late to actually eat it, as always) and goes to get his coat and shoes from the door. He loops back around to put his coffee in the cup you washed the previous night and leans down to where you’re sitting at the table to kiss you lightly on the lips. It’s so rote as to be unnotable, but it makes you smile anyway, your day instantly brighter.

“I love you,” you call after him, as you always do, and Seungmin waves as he leaves, throwing a “Be safe!” over his shoulder. And then the door closes, and you’re alone.

In a few minutes, you’ll go to work at your office job. Later, you’ll come home and make dinner. At some point in the day, Seungmin will text you to let you know if he’ll be coming home or not, so that you’ll know if you need to make one portion or two. You normally make two anyway, and just leave the second wrapped up in the fridge. If worst comes to worst, you don’t mind eating the leftovers. It’s far more horrible in your mind to not have food ready for him when he is home. It’s not that Seungmin expects food from you. He’s expressed multiple times that he can buy food on his way home. But you like cooking for him, and lately you don’t get much chance because he’s so busy. You want things to be perfect when he’s home because the time you get together is precious. You’re not obsessive about it, or anything. You’re not “playing housewife” as your friends sometimes say. It’s not a crime to want to take care of your boyfriend.

Right now is a bit of a hectic period, and you haven’t seen him much for a while. You were surprised he even had the time to come home the previous night, although of course you were grateful. When he does come home, he gives you his undivided attention, like you’re the only person on earth. It makes the wait worth it. And he kisses you goodbye every morning because he loves you, and you can feel it on your lips all day, and it assuages the loneliness you might otherwise feel.

Today you have lunch with Ahrin, Hyunjin’s girlfriend. You have good relationships with the partners of all the boys, but you’re a bit closer to Ahrin, maybe because you two are so similar. Ahrin is quieter than the other women, and is more content to observe rather than participate. She’s witty and sharp-tongued, but still kind, and has a gentleness to her that makes her easy to open up to. She calls you up and complains she hasn’t seen you in a while and asks to have a meal with you that afternoon. You haven’t been feeling work very much, and you do miss her, so you agree to take a late lunch and meet her a cafe near your office.

Ahrin is radiant as always, and you make small talk about your families before devolving into complaining about mundanities: annoyances at work and the price of fruit at the supermarket. As you’re speaking, you notice Ahrin is wearing a dainty gold necklace that you don’t recognize, and cut yourself off to ask about it.

“Oh, this? It’s Cartier. Hyunjin bought it for me,” she says, bringing a hand up to touch the small pendant like she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “He’s on this kick about couple’s jewelry.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, and you mean it. It suits Ahrin’s softness and sophistication. He may have bought it because it was Cartier, but he clearly put some thought into it besides the designer label.

“Thank you,” she says, genuinely pleased. “I try to wear something he bought me whenever I go visit him.”

“Are you going to see him today?”

“I just come from there, actually. He took my credit card in his wallet, so I had to go get it back.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” you say.

Ahrin rolls her eyes. “I know. But it’ll work every time. I can’t help that I need it to go about my day.”

She doesn’t sound the least bit bothered. Ahrin and Hyunjin have been together for two years, and it’s a trick he’s pulled ever since they started living together, the “accidentally taking one of Ahrin’s things to work.” You’ve asked her before why she doesn’t confront him about it, but she says that she thinks it’s cute how he keeps coming up with excuses to see her, and anyway, she also likes having excuses to see him.

You also think it’s cute, if in a more wistful way. Seungmin is organized to a T, and he’s never needed you to bring him something he’s forgotten or vice versa. In fact, you can’t remember if you’ve ever visited him at work at all. You don’t think it’s that strange, though. It’s not like he’s made a habit of showing up to your workplace. Also, you likely wouldn’t have the time even if he’d offered. It does dampen your mood a bit though, especially as Seungmin texts you in the middle of your conversation that he in fact, would not be coming home today, meaning you would have to eat dinner alone tonight.

Ahrin notices the dip in your mood as you set your phone back on the table.

“Bad news?” she asks.

You swipe the notification away.

“It’s nothing. Seungmin just texting me about how busy they are.”

Ahrin hums in understanding. “Well, what can you do. At least it’s not as crazy as it was a few months ago.”

“Isn’t it?” You’ve been seeing less of Seungmin than you had in ages, and you’d assumed it was because their schedules had been bordering on unbearable lately. But Ahrin looks confused at your question.

“I don’t think so. Busier than last month, yeah. But they’re not filming anything right now, so the schedule isn’t as rigid. Seungmin hasn’t talked to you about this?”

You feel embarrassed, somehow. “He doesn’t talk about work much when he’s with me. He likes to keep it separate.”

“That makes sense. You should ask him to share his schedule with you, though. What if you need him and you don’t know where he is, or when he’ll answer?”

“I know where he’s at, generally. He tells me if he’s traveling. I just don’t know the minutiae.”

“You’re allowed to know. You should, for your own peace of mind.”

It’s not that it hadn’t occurred to you to ask. Seungmin told you his whereabouts if you questioned him, and he even volunteered information every once in a while, so you hadn’t thought much of it. And you didn’t suspect him of cheating on you ever in a million years. You knew he had other hobbies and friends as well- a whole life outside you that you weren’t privy to and didn’t need to be. But was it possible you were being a bit too aloof about your boyfriends daily habits? Why didn’t he share what he was doing, if he wasn’t at work? Why didn’t you know?

“I’ll ask him,” you say. “You’re right.”

Ahrin smiles encouragingly, and the topic is dropped for other matters. The odd feeling in your stomach doesn’t settle, though, and by the time you’ve finished your day and sat down to eat dinner, you realize you’ve unfortunately lost your appetite.

Seungmin calls you the next day to say he’ll be staying at the dorm for several days, and you tell him okay, thanks for telling me, I love you, goodbye. After you hang up the phone, you berate yourself for not asking more questions. You’re his girlfriend. You should be care that he’s leaving you alone for days at a time, you think as you drive to work. Maybe he’d been waiting for you to ask what he’d be doing or pester him for spoilers about the group’s upcoming plans. Maybe he wanted you to pout and whine about missing him and beg him to come home. You’d never done any of those things before, but maybe you should be. Maybe he’d called you hoping you would do those things and had hung up the phone disappointed.

The central problem of dating an idol is always a scarcity of time. They’re always busy, and because they’re always busy, you as a partner need to have a life outside them that is full and fulfilling, and sometimes those two schedules conflict. You can go long stretches without spending meaningful time together, and it’s hard to cope with, especially when they’re within driving distance of you, but still inaccessible. You know, though, that a scarcity of time does not always mean a scarcity of attention. You’ve seen it in Ahrin and Hyunjin, in the Cartier necklace and the missing credit card, that Hyunjin thinks about Ahrin all the time, and Ahrin knows that he does, is thinking of him just as much if not more. She can languish in the thought that even if Hyunjin is not with her, he desperately wishes he was, and when she wears his necklaces and bracelets and $500 hair clips, Hyunjin knows she is also desperately thinking about him.

You and Seungmin don’t have a system like that. Seungmin isn’t in the habit of buying you expensive gifts, for starters. He’s frugal with his money, hyperaware that one day his youth and fame will fade, and he won’t have such extravagant income. You’re similarly pragmatic, and you’ve never resented him for this. And that’s not to say he never spends money on you. He buys you flowers and takes you on expensive dates. He bought you a new laptop and headphones without you saying anything, and your closet is full of fancy dresses that are each tied to a high class outing you’ve been on. For each one, he’d bought himself a shirt and jacket to match. But those aren’t things you wear every day to show off. They’re for special occasions, specific memories. There’s nothing you wear or carry daily that marks you as ‘his.’

And honestly, you’ve never really thought about yourself that way. You and Seungmin are together, and you live together (by whatever measure your living arrangements currently count as), but you’ve never longed to be “branded” in a way befitting a pair of earrings or an oversized sweater. You wear his clothes at home, but never out. You don’t feel the need to show up to his practices and recording sessions. You’ve never even asked if you were allowed. If Seungmin bought you a Cartier necklace, you aren’t totally sure you would wear it.

It hits you like a freight train when you put it all together: You don’t care enough about Seungmin. You’re comfortable with him, you feel like you love him, but you don’t care about him the way you’re supposed to care about him. You’re not involved enough. But then, the same goes for him too, doesn’t it? He knows what you do for work, but he rarely asks you about anything other than a cursory how was your day? He doesn’t pester you for anything, doesn’t ask you to visit him or stay up for him when he comes home late. Aren’t those things that he should expect from you as a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he care that you’re so obviously neglecting him? When he kisses you goodbye in the morning, is that because he misses you, or is that just a habit formed over these past months, a meaningless part of the morning ritual he couldn’t resist if he tried?

You feel caught in a lurch, unsure what to do now. Seungmin deserves better than you, clearly. He deserves a girlfriend who actually gives a fuck about his life. But maybe, if you start making up for it now, he’ll forgive the past few months of you being so terrible. He’ll realize that you are an attentive girlfriend, and that you do care about him and that you love him, and you can prove it, you swear, it took you a while to realize what was wrong but you’ve got it all straightened out now.

You can change. You can fix this. You know you can.

-/-

The next time Seungmin comes home, you wake up first the next morning, like always. You go to put the coffee on, and you make breakfast, and you check your emails. Seungmin comes out, walks past you to his shoes and coat, and doubles back to get his morning coffee.

“Busy day today?” you ask.

Seungmin freezes in his movements, caught off guard by your question. He recovers quickly enough, and answers. “Not particularly. Vocal practice, some other things.”

“Oh, good. Do you think you’ll be home today then?”

Seungmin turns to face you, his cup abandoned on the counter, unfilled. “Is everything alright?”

“What?”

“Is something wrong? Do we need to talk?”

Oh god, it’s worse than you thought. Asking if he’s going to be home to eat dinner is enough for him to think something is amiss. Have you truly never asked him that before?

“Everything’s fine. It would just be nice to eat dinner with you, is all.”

Seungmin relaxes. He leans down to kiss you, but it lingers longer than normal, as if he’s savoring the touch, your attention. “I’ll do my best,” he promises. “I love you. Have a nice day.”

You absolutely blossom under his affection, the verbosity atypical for so early in the morning.

“I love you too. Be safe.”

“I always am,” he says, and presses another peck to your lips before pulling away. He finishes pouring his coffee, grabs his coat, and waves as he leaves. You sit at the table, vibrating with satisfaction. You’re doing it, you’re giving him what he needs. Maybe all hope isn’t lost for you two just yet.

Your sky-high mood follows you to work, and the day keeps getting better with the discovery of cupcakes in the break room. One of your coworkers’ kids just had a birthday, and they had way too much food left over. You take one back to your desk to nibble on while you work, and even the mundanity of your daily tasks can’t bring you down from how well this day is turning out. Around midmorning, it occurs to you that this is the perfect opportunity to do something else nice for Seungmin by bringing him cupcakes. They’re not filming, which means they’re not on diets, so he can handle a bit of sugar and frosting, especially if it’s a gift from you. You borrow a container from the staff kitchen to carry some cupcakes and decide to defer your own lunch to deliver them across the city.

When you get to the JYPE building, though, you realize you have no idea what to do. You’re fairly sure you’re allowed access; the other girlfriends pop in and out all the time. But it’s possible no one here recognizes you, since this is the first time you’ve shown your face around here.

Being spontaneous is cute and quirky, but standing around lost and embarrassed grows tiring within seconds. You give up and decide to text Seungmin.

Are you busy?, you send, standing awkwardly by the door and hoping security doesn’t throw you out. Thankfully, he responds quickly.

Not super. Do you need to call?

Actually I’m in the lobby of your building. Can you come down?

Typing, and then a pause. Then more typing. Eventually the message comes through.

Ok.

You can’t decode that at all. It strikes you for the first time that you may be bothering him by driving over here. You did ask if he was busy, though. And it stood to reason that if you had time for a 5-minute phone call, he had time to come downstairs and accept the gift you’d brought him. It isn’t intrusive. This is what people do for each other when they care about each other.

It only takes a few minutes for Seungmin to round the corner into the lobby. His face is creased in concern, even worse than he’d looked this morning, and he’s walking at a brisk pace to stand right in front of you.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s going on?”

You don’t know how to respond to his intensity, so you just hold out the container towards him. “I brought you cupcakes.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. “You…made cupcakes?”

“I didn’t make them. A coworker brought them in. But I remember you saying you liked cupcakes, and I had a free minute, so I thought I’d bring them over before they got finished.”

Seungmin accepts the box gingerly, as though it contains a nest of wild hornets, or lit sticks of dynamite. “You drove all the way over here to give this to me?”

Your doubts go from an inkling to a full-on tumult. “Yes, I did. I was just thinking of you…I thought you might like something sweet.”

You don’t mean to look dismayed, but Seungmin must clue-in to the fact that this isn’t the reaction you were hoping for. He shifts the box to one hand and laces your fingers together with his other.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” he says. “But you don’t need to go out of your way to bring me things.”

“It’s not out of my way. I had time.”

“Let me rephrase. You shouldn’t expend your lunch hour to bring me food. When are you going to eat now?”

“I’ll stay an extra half hour. It’s fine.”

Seungmin clearly isn’t satisfied with this. He tugs lightly on your arm, bidding you to follow, and you do, unsure of what else to do.

He takes you up a floor, and down a hallway to what seems to be a regular employee break room, where he gestures for you to sit down at one of the tables. You do, and he walks over to the fridge to get bottled water and brings back one for you, along with napkins and a knife from the drawer next to the fridge.

“If you aren’t going to eat lunch, you might as well share your spoils with me,” Seungmin says. He opens the container and takes out one of the cupcakes (and they are huge, to be honest, you kind of can’t believe they’re from a kid’s birthday party) and cuts it in half.

“Pick a side,” he says, and you do, and he carefully picks it up and lays it on a paper towel before sliding it towards you. He takes the other half, and you pick your desserts apart with your fingers. Seungmin tells an anecdote about Jeongin from their vocal lesson that morning. It’s…nice. You’re just spending time with your boyfriend, a quick stolen minute in the midst of your busy lives. The frosting is sickeningly sweet, and you find yourself reaching for the bottle of water without even thinking of it, and only later preen at the realization that Seungmin knew you would need to wash the artificial taste out and had brought you water preemptively. He knows you well enough to identify if something would suit your palette with only a glance.

Both of you don’t have much time to spare, so after fifteen minutes you wipe off your hands and clean off the table.

“I’ll bring the rest of these back upstairs,” he says. “They won’t last ten minutes once the others see them.”

“That’s fine. That’s what I was hoping for, actually.”

“And here I thought you brought these only for me,” he says, but his lips are curled up, teasing. He kisses you goodbye, like always, lips sugary-sweet and soft as cotton-candy. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you tonight.”

Your heart grows three sizes. You’re on cloud nine. “Anytime,” you say.

That night you try very hard not to be an absolute freak about dinner. You cook nearly every day, so the cooking itself isn’t that special, but for some reason your usual rotation doesn’t feel good enough. Seungmin is coming home for the second day in a row, and you don’t want to reuse ingredients, or phone it in when you’d specifically asked him to come home. At the same time, a five-course meal is definitely doing way too much. You stop by the store on the way home and scan the shelves, before wrestling yourself into a compromise and getting ingredients for a meal you both enjoy, but you’re normally too lazy to bother after a long day at work. It’s nothing fancy, just time-consuming, but you’re in such high spirits that the labor doesn’t even feel harrowing.

Seungmin gets home a few minutes before you’re properly done, with the pot on the stove ticking down steadily as you wash dishes and spoons. Seungmin greets you as he walks in but vanishes quickly down the hall to shower and change into inside clothes. By the time he reappears, you’re all but done, and you’ve never been more satisfied with yourself as you dish the food into two bowls and set them on the table. Sure, maybe it’s “playing housewife” a little bit, but you don’t even care. If playing housewife is this rewarding, you might have to start doing it more often.

Seungmin raises his eyes as the dinner you prepared.

“Didn’t you complain that this is hard to make?” he asks. You shrug.

“Felt like cooking today,” is all you say. “No biggie.”

Seungmin sits down at the table, pushes his plate to the side, and looks directly at you. “Y/n. What’s going on?”

Anxiety shoots through you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I’m not oblivious. You’ve been acting off all day.”

“Off?”

“Visiting me at the company? Cooking this fancy dinner? It’s not like you at all.”

“That’s not me being ‘off.’ I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Have I not been paying enough attention to you? Is that why?”

“No! I mean, you have. There is no ‘why’. Am I not allowed to miss my boyfriend?”

Seungmin looks distinctly unimpressed. “Nice try. Wanna go again?”

All your good humor from earlier is dissolving into your soup. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you.”

“I was trying to do something nice for you. I just wanted to spend time with you today. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong. It’s just unusual for you. When you told me you showed up at the company, I thought something horrible had happened, because you never visited me before.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“That I never visit.”

“Why would that bother me?”

All your anxieties are simmering near the top, threatening to boil over. “Because the other members’ girlfriends visit all the time. I know they do. They have security clearance and everything. But I never do. I don’t even know where you are most days if I wanted to visit you.”

Seungmin frowns. “You’re busy. You have a job you’re at all day, same as me. Some of the other members’ girlfriends work less or have other things going on.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you mutter. “Maybe I have too much going on.”

Seungmin looks hesitant at this. “If you feel you need to cut back, I’ll support you.”

“Is that what you want? Do you think I should work less?”

“No, I don’t. That’s not my decision anyway.”

“But I just…” You’re cracking, you know you are, you can hear it in your voice- “I just want to be there for you more. I want to be attentive.”

“You are attentive. You’re there for me all the time.”

“I’m not!” It bursts out of you more violently than even you expected. Seungmin is taken aback, eyes widening as you finally break. “I’m so aloof towards you, it’s awful. I never know where you are, or what you’re doing. I never ask you to come home to me. I don’t stay up for you. I don’t visit you. Other girlfriends have bracelets or necklaces they wear for their boyfriends, and I don’t do any of that. No one would even know we were dating, based on how we are now.” You suck in a breath, reminding yourself to stay calm. “I just don’t even know what you get out of being with me. I don’t do anything I’m supposed to do, and you keep letting me get away with it. And I thought if I changed, and I started trying harder, maybe I could fix it before you realize that I don’t deserve you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliation and sadness making you feel dizzy and hot. Now that you’ve said it all out, it sounds ridiculous. It’s not as if you could fix a behavioral pattern with one good day. If your relationship really is rotten through, all you’ve done is draw attention to the problem and made it even worse. Contrasted with how you acted today, the past eleven months must seem downright hollow.

Seungmin sighs. “Y/n, look at me, please.”

You open your eyes and are horrified to see Seungmin looking absolutely mournful where he sits across the table. He looks so aggrieved, so weighed down, and a horrible rock forms in the pit of your stomach.

“First of all,” he says. “I don’t ever want to hear you say again that you don’t deserve me. It’s not true, and I won’t have you putting yourself down like that. You don’t decide what I deserve, I do. And I’ve decided you’re exactly what I want.”

You blink, confused at the turn of events. It’s a very Seungmin thing to say, yes, but in this situation, you didn’t expect him to double down on it so earnestly.

“Second of all, you’re not aloof towards me. I know you love me, and you care for me in your own ways. I also know you have a life outside of me that keeps you busy. I’m grateful for that. I would feel horrible if you spent a significant amount of your day just waiting around for me when we both know I can’t always be there.”

“That’s different,” you can’t help but interject. “You’re an idol. You can’t help that you’re busy.”

“You can’t help being busy either. Being an idol isn’t any more important than any other job. You have responsibilities too.”

You deflate, sagging in your chair. He takes this as license to continue.

“Third, I didn’t think you were the type to wear jewelry every day. If you want me to get you something, I can do that. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured to wear something just because I bought it and it was expensive. Someday, if we get married, you’ll wear my ring, and that’ll be enough for me.”

He’s right. You don’t usually wear jewelry every day, and you would feel bad about not wearing something he’d specifically bought you as a gift. You’re starting to feel more and more foolish as this conversation continues.

Thankfully, his itemized list ends there, and he leans forward, dark eyes fixed on yours. He doesn’t look angry, or upset, just focused. Leave it to Seungmin to mind-map his way through a relationship crisis.

“Can you tell me what brought this on? It’s unlike you to be insecure. If I’ve done something to make you think you’re not good enough for me, I’d like to know so that I can change my behavior.”

You let out a long breath, giving up the fight in the face of Seungmin’s rationality.

“I had lunch with Ahrin the other day. I was complaining about how you’re so busy these days, I rarely see you. Ahrin said you guys actually haven’t been that busy. It made me realize I don’t actually know your schedule, like what you do all day, much less outside of work. And I also realized part of the reason I haven’t seen you much is because I never ask to see you. You have no reason to spend time with me when it seems like I don’t even want you around.” Your voice trails off as you continue, shame sticking the words in your throat.

Seungmin hums, thinking. He lifts his hand up and stretches it toward you, your sign to extend your own hand so he can lace your fingers together. You oblige, and the contact settles you a bit.

“I have never thought for one second that you didn’t want me around. I don’t take offense to you not knowing my schedule either. I know I don’t talk about work much. It might be a flaw of mine.”

“Hyunjin is always playing these little games with Ahrin to get her to come see him. But I’ve always felt that you’d prefer I stay away when you’re working.”

Seungmin hesitates again. “That might be right. That’s not because I don’t love spending time with you, though. It’s the opposite.”

“I…don’t follow.”

“Whatever you believe, the other members’ partners don’t really come around all that much, but when they do come around, it’s not really a big event. They’re just spectators. Like when Ahrin visits us at practice, it’s easy for Hyunjin to pretend she’s not there and keep working. I couldn’t do that. If you were in the room with me, I don’t think I could be as focused as I normally am. I’d be distracted because all my attention would be on you and how you’re doing. That’s why I’ve never encouraged you to visit.”

A small hysterical part of you wants to twist his words somehow, to start a fight about him calling you a ‘distraction’ and all it implies, but you know what he meant. It’s a fairly big admission he’s given, that he couldn’t keep control of himself if you were in his eyeline. It’s…unexpectedly flattering.

“I fluster you that badly?” you ask, half-teasing, half-curious. But Seungmin answers you dead serious.

“Embarrassingly so. When I went back upstairs with the cupcakes, Minho-hyung didn’t give me a second to breathe before commenting on it.”

You find yourself grinning. “Really?”

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s unkind.”

“I’m not laughing,” you say, even though you definitely are. Seungmin rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat or embarrassment in them.

“You could at least be sorry about it.”

“I’m very sorry that I got you bullied by your bandmates,” you say dutifully. “I promise I will do my best not to place you in such a compromising position again.”

“You can visit me if you want,” Seungmin rebuffs. “I can take a little teasing if you really want to see me. My point is just that you shouldn’t feel like you have to because the other girlfriends do.”

“Okay.” You nod, then venture out into the part of the conversation you’ve been avoiding. “If that’s all true, why do you stay away so often? It’s okay if you just have other things to do, but why do you let me think you’re at work if you aren’t?”

You aren’t sure what he’s going to say to this. You believe in his loyalty, always, and you don’t think he truly intended to lie to you, but you still can’t figure out who’s to blame here, and how this miscommunication has persisted between you for so long.

To your surprise, Seungmin’s ears flare red. His grip tightens on your hand, like he’s fighting himself, but you can tell he answers you honestly when he says,

“I was worried I was imposing on you.”

You blink. “Imposing?”

Seungmin is no longer meeting your eyes, his gaze lowered to the table. “Like I said, I don’t want you to constantly be waiting around for me. I don’t want you to get used to having me around, and then when I go on tour, or get busy with activities, you feel my absence stronger. Then, when I come back, I become an inconvenience as you try to fit me into your life again. It’s hard, and it’s unfair. I thought it would be easier to try to keep the same level of involvement all the time, so that you didn’t miss me too badly when I was gone, and I didn’t annoy you too much when I came back.”

You hardly let him finish his sentence before you say, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You keep your attention from me so that I won’t miss you later? How does that make any sense? I miss you regardless. That’s the point of being in a relationship.”

Seungmin winces, and you decide to dial back your indignance. He’d spoken to you evenly, and you could do the same for him.

“Sorry. I just meant that you shouldn’t keep yourself away from me in an effort to spare my feelings. I know what I signed up for when we started dating. I know some times will be easier than others. I appreciate your efforts to mitigate that, but this isn’t the way. You being gone so often is all the more reason to be overt and intense when we do have time together. It’s fine to not want to spend all your free time with me, but don’t ever think wanting to be around me is imposing, or hurting me in some way, because it’s not.”

Seungmin looks properly chastised. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be around more.”

“And I’ll ask for you more. We both need to stop holding ourselves and each other back.” You let out a little laugh. “We’re acting like it’s embarrassing to be in love or something.”

“Hyunjin said the same thing to me once.”

“Hyunjin is smart in exactly one area,” you acquiesce. “Ahrin is a lucky girl.”

“Comparison is the thief of joy,” Seungmin mutters. You lean forward over your cold dinner and press a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek.

“I didn’t say she was luckier than me.”

You both grin.

-/-

Next week, Monday. You wake up at your usual time, put on coffee, make breakfast. You clear your entire inbox because fuck the sales department, they can say whatever they need to say in the meeting this afternoon. You set your phone down and enjoy the warmth of the tea you brewed and watch the sun come up outside your living room window.

Seungmin gets up, gets his shoes and coat, and doubles back around.

“Good morning,” you say.

“Good morning.”

“Busy day?”

“Nope. I’m free after lunch.”

“Lucky. I have an awful meeting from two to four.”

“You’ll do fine,” Seungmin says. “Sales isn’t the boss of you.”

“They actually are,” you groan, and Seungmin laughs at your dismay. He kisses you goodbye, tells you to be safe. You tell him you love him. The front door opens and closes.

At around 1pm, your phone buzzes with a text.

Are you busy?

Eh. Why?

I’m in your lobby.

No way.

You grab your security pass and head towards the elevators, watching every floor tick down until it lets you out on the ground floor. Seungmin is sitting in a chair in reception, holding a white cardboard box. When he sees you approach him, he grins and holds it up.

“Got time for cupcakes?”

Your smile is so wide it’s splitting your face in half. “Follow me. The break room is on the fourth floor.”

-/-

“I didn’t even know you knew what building I work in.”

“I looked it up on NAVER.”

“Of course you did.”

“Why reinvent the wheel when someone invented the iPhone, y/n.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #seungmin angst #skz imagines #skz x you #skz x y/n #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz hurt/comfort

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

Note

Okay, so I was thinking about yandere Peter B and Miguel O’Hara with FTM reader. Both men obsessed and possessive with them ever since they joined the society.

And they both share them. Kinks could be breeding, size difference, degradation, praising kink? Miguel could be a hard dom and Peter a soft dom. You could add more if ya like.

Your writing is absolutely amazing!

🕸️🕷️ 》 OUR LITTLE SPIDER || PETER B. PARKER AND MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER ||

A/N: I made it in headcanon format because I was too lazy to make a one shot, but I hope you like it.

THIS WAS A LITTLE TOO LONG SORRY--- ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

TW: age gap, smut, yandere content, dark romance, daddykink, praise!kink, size!kink, possession, manipulation, ftm reader, betrayal, breed!kink, v!sex, anal!sex, overstimulation, kidnapping, blackmail, murder, aphrodisiac use, dub con, threesome, creampie.

Being in the spidersociety was a big responsibility role for you, but you accepted it anyway, after all you had the sense of hero that each spider variant had. You didn't expect so much attention or flattery for you but that's what you received from two specific people ─ Miguel O'Hara, your boss and Peter B. Parker, the most peaceful and sweet spider man you met in Spider society. You swore you saw hearts form in the two older men's orbs simultaneously.

You quickly saw things escalate to a strange level. Miguel was very protective of you, even putting you on "easier" missions like staying at the spider society headquarters and giving him boring reports.

"You're safe here. Being a spider-man isn't just about battling villains, it's about learning responsibility. You're still a little spider, carinõ." the Mexican would speak as he gave you more papers to fill out. While on the other hand, Peter agreed with everything the leader said, complementing even more.

"Miguel is right, baby boy. You still have a lot to learn." The older man gestured excitedly and you accepted, defeated and sighing.

O'Hara watched everything with a chill passing through him, he tried not to let his thoughts speak loudly but he knew that Peter was also interested in you, just like the Mexican was.

"You shouldn't be so close to him, Peter. Your wife will be jealous." O'Hara hissed the words like venom coming out of his fangs, while the other spider-man just smiled relaxedly and looked at the younger man.

"You want to compete for him? Is that it Miguelito? You liked him too, didn't you? We can share." Peter spoke as he saw you oblivious to the dark conversation you were both having.

The proposal for a share was denied in the first instance, but every day it seemed more tempting for the spider leader, for several reasons. The main one was that you were getting closer to other spider variants and Peter, being more social, was keeping up with your pace ── at the same time that you realized that some spider variants no longer wanted to talk to you, if that variant presented romantic interest in you, they disappeared and came back with deep bruises, diverting topics with you and leading you to turn to Peter.

Little did you know that the nice family man was the cause of that. He was sick for you, to the point of abandoning his purposes and character ── you and his daughter were the only things that mattered to him at that moment, he told himself that he still loved Mary Jane... But he also loved you.

Peter was getting rid of another spider variant using threats and pure blackmail to do so, but the poor victim that time had no chance after Miguel appeared and took out his fury on them. The tall man sloppily wiped the blood off his hands as he turned to Peter.

"Okay... I accept your proposal, let's share the ninõ." O'Hara spoke in a calm, cold and insane tone, while he saw Parker smile and nod his head ── after this previous peace agreement between them, it was his life's turn to become a sweet hell.

You had no one else inside or outside the spider society, Peter and Miguel were the only ones who spoke to you. (Peter's threat + Miguel's tyrannical power with the other spider variants in secret was the reason for his involuntary isolation.)

In addition to the fact that the Mexican used his entire database to find out about your family, friends and possible love interests outside the society he had control over ── some were bought with money, others were threatened and others... They were found in alleys and became news on TV channels.

Everything was falling apart in your life, even your college grades and your mental state and all you had left was the comfort of the two older men... Exactly as you both planned.

You ran into their arms while crying and venting ── an Oscar award was supposed to be presented to the duo, both of them pretended shock and indignation while you told them every detail. So when you were weakened enough, they acted, bringing you into their possession, protecting you from the cruel world that was made worse in their minds.

Compliments, gifts, words of positive affirmations and everything sweet and warm in the world they gave you. Miguel was more desperate for touch, placing you on his lap while he worked on the panels of the multiverse or giving you small, intimate but not vulgar kisses, something that asserted a silent and slow dominance ── away from curious eyes, after all he was still the leader of that society.

Peter on the other hand would give you more affection in public, you and him would even go for a walk together with mayday as a family, away from Mary Jane's eyes. He would also lie to you saying that he and his wife were separated and even show the old divorce paper to prove something to you... You were trapped in a spider web of lies and dirty manipulations.

And when you realized, you were in a relationship with both men ── they asked you if it was okay for you to deal with both of them at the same time, which you denied, too drunk with pleasure to think about anything more than both filling you to the brim (an effect that was also the fault of the aphrodisiac Miguel had put in your drink that day.)

Peter's hands took off your spider uniform while O'Hara's thick hands went towards your wetness, playing roughly with your clit "mi hermoso" the spider leader growled in your ear as one of his thick fingers entered inside you, making you moan ─ at the same time that Peter sucked your nipples and gently squeezed your breasts, his experienced hands were working magic on your body. Raw kisses were left by the older man on your abdomen, as Parker knelt and licked your clit, helping O'Hara prepare you even more for what was to come.

"You're already dripping for us, aren't you? Such a good little slut." The tanned man teased as he stuck a second finger in your cunt, stretching you in scissor movements, back and forth. Peter got out on his knees as he captured your lips lightly moaning huskily against your flesh: "Such a beautiful and good boy for us... You make your daddies proud like that little spider." He said as Miguel pressed his hard, pulsing erection against your ass, making you moan loudly against the other man's lips.

The two bodies fit perfectly inside you, practically crushing you with their heat as you tried not to cum on O'Hara's fingers, but the effort was in vain as you felt him easily reach your cervix. You felt one of Peter's fingers soon find your other hole, making you moan even more against his lips.

"That's it, my spider boy. Show us how much you want it." The voices mixed together as you felt like you were going to explode at any moment and it actually happened ── you came, squirting onto Miguel's forearm and dripping onto the floor as all your muscles contracted involuntarily.

"I knew it was going to be a fucking squirt." The spider leader said, laughing, as you left for the next step ── you just left yourself there, your body for the two of them to use as they wanted, you just wanted to feel good and they would guarantee that.

With careful coordination and chemistry between the three of you, you found yourself sitting on Peter's lap, your back pressed against his chest as he guided his cock to your tight hole. Meanwhile, Miguel positioned himself at your front, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered your dripping pussy. "Te ves tan hermoso."

Peter couldn't help but let out a groan of satisfaction as he finally buried his cock deep inside your tight ass, the feeling of being completely enveloped by your warmth and tightness was overwhelming for him, he had to fight against the urge to just thrust into you with abandon. Instead, he took deep breaths to steady himself, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, you feel incredible, baby boy. So tight and eager for me... You wanted that, didn't you? Being filled by two dicks, a greedy, needy boy..."

Miguel's primal instincts took over as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock, the blissful sensation causing a guttural moan to escape his lips. "I'm going to breed in that beautiful pussy of yours, boy... You're going to be our breed whore... We're going to always leave you full of cum, in that beautiful hole of yours." Miguel's hips moved in sync with Peter's, his thrusts gaining speed and force as he aimed to push you over the edge. "So beautiful and obedient, If you continue like this, being a good boy will be rewarded ok?.." the older man moaned as you felt Peter and Miguel's cocks stretch you to the edge, letting you drool on both of their cocks like an animal in heat. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you moaned their names. Parker and O'Hara continued their relentless thrusts, prolonging your orgasm and riding the waves of your ecstasy, but they hadn't stopped yet. Peter's thrusts grew more frantic as he felt your body convulse under him, the pleasure building within him as well. He knew that his release wasn't far behind.

"You're so damn tight, baby. Fuck, I'm gonna come--" His voice was filled with a mix of pleasure and urgency as he increased the pace of his thrusts. O'Hara felt his own release drawing near, your tight pussy milking his cock with each powerful thrust. His grip on your hips tightened as he neared his own climax. "Holy shit little boy, you're really going to get pregnant with us, aren't you?" As both men reached their climaxes, they filled you with their seed. Peter's hot cum filled your tight ass, while Miguel's release spilled into your pussy, marking you as theirs. Their bodies shuddered as they reached their peaks, their gazes locked on yours. Nothing needed to be phallus, not when both of your eyes reflected their red, sickly hearts, surrounded by possession and pleasure for you.

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adhd-fandom-hyperfocus · 6 months ago

Text

Secret Box

Sorry no fancy formatting or anything here. I got sudden inspired to write this from an anon @moodymisty got Tagging @kit-williams because I know Mr. Turbo is her man Warnings: Hints of NSFW stuff at the very end. Sorry if Turbo sounds ooc I haven't written him at all before so be kind. Also, did not proofread this. MINOR DNI

"Oh I don't know, I would be unhappy too if all I had to was tear things down and war. Maybe he wants to something else?"

"What do you mean? He seems quite happy breaking things."

He watched you frown so deeply, "My little bother was like that, everyone thought he like being mad. Just did not know how to convey his feelings, and felt like he had to stay under father's thumb. But he really just wanted to be an artist. I loved his art!"

"I didn't know you had a brother, where is he?"

"Dead. Died angry and lonely because father wanted a soldier."

His furious hearts stopped in his chest. You saw him. You did not realize it, but you did. It scared him, mad him want to rage and break you. It made him want to keep you close. Show you those things he wanted to forget.

***

"What in the Emperor's name is that?"

"Oh one of those puzzle boxes, some call them secret boxes because once you open them you can keep little important secrets in them!" your smile makes his head spin and his stomach lurch.

He wanted you to smile at him like that more. He needed you to talk to him about the silly little boxes.

"Why do you have so many? They seem pointless, we do not have anything to keep in them."

"Oh, I am far too stupid to open them, but I find them beautiful, each one looks different, opens differently, and all so complex, like people!"

***

Weeks he slaved over his workbench, keeping this secret to all, which was made easy when got the small chance to engage with you. Or most commonly, watch you interact with others, needed to make sure you didn't give his secrets away; at least he tried to convince himself of that.

You thought yourself stupid, but you figured him out in a way not even the damn Emperor himself could. What looked so simple was perhaps the most complex of all.

You wanted to see the art he could create that wasn't for war, how his mind could do if allowed to run free. Called his work art, like it was something to also marvel at.

The primarch looked over his newest creation, the small box was intricate in it's design, how he liked things. But it was what was inside that made his chest feel weak, and yet made him powerful all the same. The primarch of iron was feeling himself soften at the heat that had made a permanent home in his lower abdomen.

When he presented the box to you he did not say he made it, refused to. But as he explained his lie, the look you cast at him shocked him. You knew his bluff. Of course you did.

"Well, whoever made this is a true master! I have never seen something to beautiful before, thank you my lord," you smile up at him, letting him keep his pride and secret, "I know you are a busy man, but should you remember who made this could you be so kind to your serf and tell me?"

Prutabo grunted and nodded, "If I feel so inclined. Let me know if and when you open it."

***

Days and weeks pass and you keep him updated with your progress, he makes comments that hint he isn't too interested, after all someone of his genius would have opened it already. You agree, but you won't give up. You determination makes his hearts feel like they are in knots. How happy and joyful you are over his little toy. The fun you find in testing yourself only just to say you did it. The moments of you updating him live inside his dreams, where he is brave enough to hold your hand and smile back.

The crusade had called him away and like always it kept him longer than anyone else. While his brothers got to reap all the glory he was cleanup, or the brunt hammer to break wills. So of course when the Lord of Iron returned everyone scattered. Hid like cowards.

Not you. Even with him exuding even more of his dour demeanor you came running up to him. Puzzle box in hand.

"My Lord! I know you just returned, but I have been waiting for teran weeks for you to return." you were overflowing with excitement; practically vibrating with it.

It was like a disease that spread quickly, because as you spoke his ire cooled. You were happy he was home.

"Make it quick." though he hoped you took as long as you wanted.

"I am about to open the box, and I wanted to open it with you!" you grin up at him coming closer, "Exciting right?"

You...waited for him. Wanted to share in his happiness with...Throne he thought he was going to burst out of his armor and into flames.

"For someone who cannot easily solve things, I suppose. Well, open it." he grumbled, fighting to keep his mask on.

As you moved the last piece into place and opened the lid, a centerpiece rose up, and thereupon it was a metal sculpting of morning glories rising up and in bloom, the spun slowly as music played. And resting inside the main flower was a small ring, designed to look like vines holding a blooming rose the held a pink diamond.

Oh the look upon your face he would have waited lifetimes just to see it. It made this little box the greatest thing he would ever fashion.

"My Lord...I...forgive me, my words are failing." you whisper still marveling at the spinning flowers, "I love morning glories..."

Perturabo nodded, "I am aware. I do listen..." he wanted to know about the ring, wanted you to wear it.

Let everyone know you were his. That you wanted to be his.

Tears well up in your eyes as you so gingerly take the ring. Without needing to ask he gently holds the box so you might place it upon one of your fingers. He watches intently as you try various fingers before putting it upon your ring finger.

"My..."

"Perturabo. You can call me by my name...should you wish to continue to wear that ring." he spoke so very softly for himself.

Thorne, he needed you to keep it on.

"I will, Perturabo," you say his name to see how it rolls off your tongue and it sounds like heaven to him.

When this crusade is over he will fill this place with sounds of your and his children, and he will cast off all this cold machinery for things that truly mattered to him. Being a toy maker in one's spare time wasn't such a foolish notion. He would not die like your brother, and leave you alone.

"Are you sure you want...I mean... I am a serf, people will talk and I do not want to tarnish your name." you whisper to him, eyes fixed on the ring.

"They would be foolish to speak of it where I can hear." was all he offered.

Your small hands slip over his covered in his massive gauntlets, and he was trembling to get this armor off.

"My Lady, if it pleases you," his voice low and he leaned in close so no other could hear, "I wish to remove this armor, if you would wait for me in my chambers..." he couldn't believe he was doing this! Smoothness and words were not his strong points, but for you, he would try, "There is a puzzle I would like to get to know intimately, work with my hands, would you be willing?"

His face burned as he waited what felt like eons for you to reply. Was this all too much too fast? Was he being a fool?

You take the music puzzle box from him and when you pull back you are smiling with cheeks as flushed as his, "I would love that. Now go before your men see you this shade of red and not yelling. I do not want to ruin your reputation." you tease

Perturabo smiled, "You, I will allow to ruin me." he said before tearing off to get this damn armor off.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #perturabo #amon writes

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ipso-faculty · 3 months ago

Text

The state of intersex studies

So we recently read the first part of Malatino's Queer Embodiment for Intersex Book Club. It'll be a while until the summary gets posted because we have a backlog (whoops) but this book makes me want to rant.

Having now read a bunch of intersex studies books for the book club has made me acutely aware of HOW MUCH of (American) intersex studies is the same five topics over and over again:

The life of Herculine Barbin

Fuck John Money

Fuck Middlesex

The rise and fall of ISNA + Fuck DSD terminology

Caster Semenya

For the record, Malatino only covered four of these five 🙃. It's honestly getting tiring seeing the same five topics over and over again when there is SO MUCH else that could be talked about.

I'm tired of hearing about ISNA The repetitive focus on ISNA is particularly grating to me because the total amount of text I have head on ISNA's history is greater than the total amount of text I have read on the histories of all other intersex advocacy organizations. 😬 The USA did not invent intersex advocacy and isn't even a world leader in intersex activism (sorry, American friends).

The only text I know of that chronicles the history of a non-ISNA intersex advocacy organization is Swarr's Envisioning African Intersex where she talks about the history history of Sally Gross and Intersex South Africa (and gives a brief shout-out to Julius Kaggwa and other Ugandan activists). Which is weird because...

IGM is banned in Greece! 🎉 And Spain! 🎉 And Portugal! 🎉 And Iceland! 🎉 And Brazil!! 🎉 And Chile! 🎉 And Uruguay! 🎉 There are partial bans on IGM in India and Australia. So why haven't I seen a single book chapter on the history of intersex activism in any of these countries? 🧐 What can we learn from these successful campaigns???

I'm tired of hearing why ISNA failed when I want to be learning how OII-Europe and similar organizations have succeeded. 🫤 There have been more than two people in intersex history Herculine Barbin isn't the only intersex person from history and I would honestly like to see more on other famous intersex people from history, e.g. Isidor of Seville, Helena Antonia, Elen@ de Céspedes, King Francis II of France, King/Queen Christina of Sweden, Princess Ismat al-Doulah of Persia, Sa Bangji, Im Seong-gu, Xie Jianshun, Fernanda Fernández, Gottlieb Göttlich, Karl Dürrge, Karl M. Baer, Lili Elbe, Clémentine Delait, and Annie Jones (Just to name a few that *I* know of!)

Caster Semenya isn't the only intersex athlete to have experienced discrimination! She wasn't even close to being the first! Maybe give some airtime to Maria José Martínez-Patiño, Foekje Dillema, Ewa Kłobukowska, Erik Schinegger, or Witold Smętek? Or even contemporaries, like Duttee Chand or Margaret Wambui?

I'm *really* tired of hearing about Middlesex The repeated critiques of Middlesex have also gotten tiring. The book sucks. This is not news. What I'm not seeing is literary scholars engaging with the growing body of books written by intersex authors like the works of Rivers Solomon, Bogi Takács, Alec Butler, or KOKUMO. And don't tell me they're not "literary" or "notable" enough, Butler has a Governor General's Award and Takács has a Hugo.

Intersex Studies can do so much more! Intersex studies is a young field. I know this. I just wish I'd see more variety making into book format? It's weird seeing the same things get repeated exhaustively when there's so much that doesn't seem to have gotten any attention? Like in book club we talked about intersex people in mythology for a bit and it made me realize we haven't seen anything specifically on this subject and there is so much that could be talked about there. 😯

My rant ends here. If anybody here is looking for a research topic I hope I've made the point that there's a lot of fertile ground that has not been covered when it comes to intersex! 💜 (If you wind up writing anything along these lines please do send it my way! 💜)

#rant #text #intersex studies #intersex #actually intersex #sociology #gender studies

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kyupidos · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, if you take requests, can I maybe request a male!not Yuu!reader that can control time ? And he is the son of one of the staff..

So, my request is : Heafcanon of the Platonic!Staff with a m!son!reader that can control time (I can see them knowing when something happen with the time but not really knowing what this is [for example, if the reader rewind the time, they have a feeling something isn't right, but nothing more], and the reader won't tell them).

Have a great day ! And ignore it if you don't want to write it !

10/20/24 — twisted wonderland <3

you know what they say about broken clocks — summary. ‘time control is rough, but your father is here for you.’

characters ;; dire crowley, mozus trein, divus crewel, tags ;; reader is male ( he/your, and the term “son” is used to describe them ), reader is not yuu, platonic fluff(?)

a/n ( SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND!! never did smth like this before so i did my best to lock in,, on the topic of doing my best, i wasn’t sure if this should be fluff or angst so i was like, kind of mixing it? i wasn’t sure how to do this with every staff, so i just did the “big three” ( i think..? ) hope this is okay! also, i’ve starting writing using a different app, so sorry if the format’s different than usual 😓

d. crowley

— in a way, you were quite sure your father, crowley, had some sort of sense of your capabilities. for as..eccentric as your father was, he possessed a great deal of care and concern towards you, his son. hey, he may give off “deadbeat” vibes ( and this is particularly true for the prefect that you’ve become acquainted with out of necessity due to them hanging out around his office to get updates about returning to their home ), but his care for you certainly shows no bounds.

— this was especially true whenever he was acutely aware of a stressor that may have been on your mind. well, he did give you a little pat on your head in affection, giddily preening to tell you “how ready he was to aid you in ailing your woes!”

— perhaps it was just a gut feeling. as you sat there, your eye almost twitching as you looked down at your terribly marked assignment paper. it was returned on the same day you worked on it with the rest of your class; you could only figure based on the usual efficiency of your teachers, but something you’d rather not praise at the moment.

— honestly, you were just too stressed out over the multitude of other assignments you’d received over the past week. what was wrong with that? and, as the son of the head mage of all staff, you couldn’t help but feel bitter in your ashamed state. so when you went to go get a beverage to cool your head off only to see your father gingerly picking up your worksheet in curiosity, your fingers twitched twice as harshly as your eye did just before.. before, coming to the fruitful conclusion to head back.

— this time, you got a far better grade. one that you were much more proud of, to show your father willingly. you were keen on repeating moments such as these; though it wasn’t like your father’s sudden blank moments whenever those times occurred led you clueless as to his abilities to catch on. “ah..oh my little raven, how well you did!” he pat your head again nonetheless, the silent agreement of ignoring how somewhere in the back of his subconscious, he recalled the event going somewhat, slightly differently. “now, my son, if you ever feel discouraged by your school work, just take it up with your ever so generous father, alright? i’m prepared to tutor you with anything!”

— his words of encouragement were just enough to dissuade the undertones of heaviness in the air that lingered for those few seconds of his recollections of the original event escaped him. you couldn’t help but smile a little more, knowing how your father tried to ease you up just to make you happy. “thank you, dad.”

m. trein

— trein is no stranger to feelings that revolve around the concept of deja vu. he’s old and wiser, and you couldn’t be prouder to know him as your father. on that note, you have two elder sisters, and this afternoon you’re all visiting together at the family home, instead of you staying at your dorm.

— your father has good intuition; that much is obvious by the kind but careful glances he gives you sometimes, just to make sure you’re feeling okay. you could see the thoughts lingering on his mind every now and then, if there was a little something you might have been keeping from him. and unfortunately, today had decided to follow that trend, but hey to be fair, it’s nobody’s fault but your memory..

— “fuaaah, hey hey, [y/n],” one of your elder sisters called out, dressed elegantly and frilly in her lavender sleepwear, clearly not too keen on bothering to change after her little afternoon nap ( you understood her there, it was a saturday after all ). “you remembered to prep the dinner, right?” she called out as she stretched her limbs, not caring to notice the quick cringe on your face at the sudden recollection. “papa said it was your turn this time, didn’t he?”

— huh? oh, well crap…you didn’t want to have to deal with those repercussions. you shrugged your shoulders not so smoothly, before leaving your eyes shut to be sure to not forget the next time.

— dinner was well served that evening, indeed. in fact, you think you put a little too much of your all into it. and while trein is delighted by the taste, he recalls it differently; no, in the back of his mind, he was sure he was just about on his way to make it himself once he’d made the realization you’d forgotten.

— he’d come to that lingering conclusion more often than not recently; and he knows for a fact you seem to have to do with it with the unnecessary awkward look you gave when he asked you about it. but he’s also concluded you’re not quite ready to talk about it, so once dinner is over and it’s about ready for everyone to sleep in for the night, he comes up to you and pats your head.

— “remember, you can always come to me if you need anything, okay?” he’s as reassuring as he’s always been to you, and you can tell with the way he looks at you. “..okay, dad.”

d. crewel

— nothing special was going on today, honestly. you were staying in the teacher’s lounge ( crewel’s son privileges ), and you were waiting for your father to get back from whatever he supposedly had to do that was more important than grading papers. not like you cared, it just meant you could lounge around doing whatever you wanted to.

— you should probably stop being so careless, all things considered. one would assume it would get through to you, as whenever he gives you a furrowed brow in response to his confusion about recollection of events, it should surely be enough to be a hint that he’s slowly catching on. or perhaps he already has, but he knows for a fact that if you hadn’t said anything, then perhaps he shouldn’t either until you’re ready.

— nonetheless, you didn’t pick up on your father’s train of thought. you do your best not to use your magic willy nilly, since it gets absolutely exhausting. especially considering the amount of blot you’ve learned you end up accumulating when you do. but you’re too used to using it to avoid even the simplest of things, even though sometimes it’s a mistake that you know any normal person would forgive; especially when it’s your father.

— you’re too anxious by the coffee you already accidentally spilled, though, which completely tainted the half-finished stack of graded papers he had left on the desk. you can’t even register how you did that, but perhaps it was from the way you accidentally shook the table a bit too much when your legs hit it while you were aiming to lay on the couch. and you know you can absolutely not deal with the reaction you’d get from your father when he inevitably walks in on the disaster.

— the stack of half graded papers was pristine and untouched, which was exactly what crewel had walked in on. virtually nothing had happened, in his eyes. and yet, somehow, the whole thing didn’t quite play out right in his mind—like it was telling him he should be walking in on another situation entirely.

— and then, his eyes glide over to meet you, doing exactly as you were planning to do. just lounge around. though still, his brow furrows as he slowly connects the dots that he doesn’t even realize truly exist yet. and then his face softens, going to sit down on the couch beside you to drink from the coffee that hadn’t spilled, a calm atmosphere shared between the two of you. “how’re you doing, [y/n]? i hope i wasn’t gone for too long.” “huh? oh no, it’s fine dad…i’ve just been relaxing.” “mhm…i bet.”

#(๑^⤙^๑). . approved!#kyupidos #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x male reader #twst fluff #twst hcs #dire crowley #dire crowley twst #crowley x reader #dire crowley x reader #divus crewel #crewel x reader #mozus trein #trein x reader #( feels odd tagging this way..but we still up )#( how do you even tag for platonic 😭😭🙏🙏 )

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCOOKING TOGETHER * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N teaches Chris how to cook a typical sweet from her country.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x brazilian!reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Honey?" Y/N called in a low tone. Her steps were light and almost muted by the orange socks that reached up to her calf, which she had grabbed from Chris's drawer.

Her eyes darted around the kitchen briefly, before finally finding her boyfriend, who was standing between the dark brown table and the open refrigerator, his right hand holding the door while his left rested on his chin, a thoughtful look on his face.

"What are you doing?" The girl asked, approaching her boyfriend as she looked into the fridge, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"I wanted to make something different for us to eat." His arms fell over his body and hit his hips in frustration.

Chris and Y/N were getting ready to start a movie marathon. The two were already lying on the double bed, their bodies covered by the fluffy duvet. The lights were turned off, the television on being the only source of lighting between the four walls; when the boy had the idea of popping popcorn to accompany them.

About 15 minutes had passed and Chris still hadn't returned to the room with the snack, and Y/N had no choice but to see what he was up to. She knew that her boyfriend had a childish soul and that if he was left unsupervised for too long, he could destroy the whole house.

"Didn't you want popcorn, baby?" Y/N questioned, moving closer and closing the fridge door.

Chris turned to her with a sigh, shaking his head.

"I wanted to, but I'm hungry, and I want something sweet." The boy said, leaning on the table behind him and crossing his arms.

He didn't know exactly what he could have made for them to eat if Y/N hadn't shown up, he didn't know how to cook anything at all and he would have definitely burned any idea he had.

"You know bakeries can cook for us, right? I can order delivery, honey. That bakery you like is still open." Y/N informed, taking half of her phone out of her hoodie pocket and quickly looking at the time before putting it away again.

"No, I want something homemade." Chris continued, tapping his right foot lightly against the floor. He really could act like a child when he wanted to.

Y/N sighed as she looked around, her mind trying to come up with ideas of something they could cook that was sweet and got ready quickly.

She took a few steps towards the cabinet on the left side of the refrigerator, opening the doors with her hands and looking through the items, a smile appearing on her lips when she saw exactly what she was looking for.

"We're making brigadeiro." Y/N informed as she grabbed the ingredients she would need.

"Briga- what?" Chris tried to utter, moving closer to his girlfriend as he looked at the items in her hands curiously.

Y/N let out a laugh, placing the ingredients on the counter next to the stove, turning to her boyfriend.

"Brigadeiro." She spoke slowly and clearly. "It's a Brazilian sweet, I sent you a picture of it once when I was back in São Paulo, but you saw it in the birthday party format, which is a small ball with sprinkles."

"Oh, I remember!" The brunette spoke excitedly, nodding his head. "But are there other formats?"

"Yes, you can use brigadeiro in everything and in every way, literally. But the easiest and quickest is to make it in a pot, also known as spoon brigadeiro, which is what we're going to do right now." Y/N turned to face the ingredients, arranging them in order of use. "Get me a medium pot, baby. Please."

The girl took her phone out of her pocket, resting it on the counter behind where the ingredients were, so that the screen was staring back at her. Her fingers worked on opening the camera and going to the video tab, clicking the red button to start recording.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked after standing up again, having bent down to pick up a pot from the cupboards on the floor, placing the requested object on the stove while looking at her phone recording them in confusion.

"I need to record this moment. My boyfriend is going to learn how to make his first Brazilian cuisine, and it's my favorite sweet." Y/N smiled big, turning to her boyfriend and sealing his cheek with her lips, stroking the skin lightly with the tip of her nose.

Chris smiled back, pulling her by the waist and kissing her forehead softly, before releasing her so they could begin.

"Okay, for this recipe, we'll only need butter, chocolate powder, and condensed milk. Thank God I brought some condensed milk from Brazil when I went last time. The ones here don't turn out the same." The girl explained to Chris, who was watching her closely.

"Butter and chocolate?" He asked as he wrinkled his nose in discomfort.

"Honey, butter is part of the ingredients of at least 80% of the cakes we eat anywhere." Y/N's tone was obvious, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Alright, chef." Chris raised his arms in surrender, earning a laugh from his girlfriend.

She opened one of the drawers on the counter and took out two tablespoons and a silicone spoon, which they would use to stir the brigadeiro over the heat, placing the three items on the counter before turning to Chris.

"What?" He asked, looking at her suspiciously.

"You will do it, and I will watch." Y/N replied, shrugging her shoulders and receiving wide eyes in response.

"Do you want to kill us both?"

"Don't be dramatic!" She smiled in amusement before pointing to the ingredients. "First, you'll need a tablespoon of butter."

Chris took the jar of butter and opened the lid carefully. His hand reached for one of the spoons and dipped it into the contents before looking at his girlfriend, waiting for the next step.

"You can put it in the pot." She indicated, pointing to the pot as she leaned her hips against the counter, watching him carefully.

Chris tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot a few times until all the butter contents were in before throwing the spoon into the sink.

"Perfect, now you're going to need four tablespoons of chocolate powder." The girl instructed, pushing the chocolate towards Chris.

"Four of chocolate for one of butter? Won't it be too thick?" The boy asked, wrinkling his nose as he lifted the chocolate powder packaging, looking briefly at the label.

"No, baby, there's still the condensed milk. I normally only add three tablespoons when I make it in Brazil, but because the one there has more sugar than the one here." She explained, waving her right hand for him to continue.

The boy raised his hands in surrender before opening the lid of the package, dipping the spoon into the brown powder and taking it out before throwing the contents into the pot. He repeated the action three more times, counting low each time so as not to get lost in the count, earning a laugh from Y/N.

"That's it. Now it's condensed milk." Y/N took the chocolate powder and the spoon from Chris's hands, throwing the spoon in the sink next to the other and closing the package before taking scissors. "You can cut off the top and throw everything into the pot."

"Everything? Do you want to give me diabetes?" Chris's blue eyes were wide as he stared at the condensed milk packaging as if it were a monster.

"Enough with the drama." The girl spoke with a smile in her voice, pushing the condensed milk and scissors into Chris's hands, who took them.

"If I die, it's her fault." The boy whispered to the phone's front camera, looking sideways at his girlfriend, who was rolling her eyes.

"Hurry up." She ordered, pushing the boy's hips with her own.

He sighed, cutting off the top edge of the package before returning the scissors to Y/N, turning it over the pot and squeezing the wrapper, watching the pasty liquid drain completely.

"That doesn't feel right." The boy muttered, placing the empty package on the counter next to him and staring at the ingredients together inside the pot, before grabbing the handles and turning it on its side, showing it to the camera. "It looks like-"

"If you drop it on the stove, you'll be the one cleaning it all up. This is full of sugar. Ants will come, and Matt will kill you." Y/N interrupted, slapping Chris on the shoulder and pulling his arms so he could put the pot right on the stove again.

"But it doesn't make any sense." He scratched the back of his head with his right hand, looking at his girlfriend with uncertainty in his eyes.

"When it's done, you'll see that it will look better than it does now." The girl spoke, dipping the index finger of her left hand into the condensed milk before taking it into her mouth, sucking out all the contents.

"Hey! Don't touch my work." He shouted, looking at Y/N with an offended look.

"If you don't turn on the heat and start stirring, it will never become a "work"." Y/N snorted while making quotation mark gestures with her fingers before pointing at the stove.

Chris rolled his eyes, turning to the stove again and turning on the heat under the pot before taking a step back and looking at it.

"Are you just going to watch and wait for it to be ready by itself?" Y/N's voice came out loud, her hand working on quickly grabbing the silicone spoon and placing it inside the pot, lowering the heat before it burned. "You have to stir constantly, baby. Otherwise, it will burn, and sugar burns very quickly." She informed, taking Chris' right hand and leading it to the spoon, before taking his left and bringing it to the left handle of the pot, keeping it steady there so that it didn't move with his movements.

"Ah, obviously, I already knew that." He said with a shrug, his cheeks turning red as a smile appeared on his face due to Y/N's laughter.

"Okay, that's it. Wait, you have to move it like this." Y/N murmured, positioning herself behind Chris and taking his right hand with her own, standing on tiptoe and placing her left hand on his waist to maintain her balance, starting to move the spoon with her boyfriend.

Her head was the only part of her that the camera captured, being shorter than Chris, his body covered her completely. She had her head tilted to their right side, next to his covered shoulder, looking intently at the stove.

Chris briefly looked at the phone screen that showed them back, letting out a laugh at their position.

"It seems the roles have changed." He teased, pushing his ass back so that it pushed Y/N's body slightly. She firmed her grip on her boyfriend's covered waist to keep from falling, pinching the skin lightly.

"Hey, if it burns, I won't do it again, and you'll eat it burnt!" She exclaimed, joining Chris in his laughter seconds later, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the pot.

It didn't take long, and soon the brigadeiro was at the right point. Y/N let go of Chris's right hand and turned off the heat, before starting to move away from his body, but her action was interrupted by him, who turned and pulled her back towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in the crook of her neck, exhaling the natural scent of her skin for a few seconds, before sealing the area momentarily.

"Thank you, baby."

The girl let out a laugh at the tickle that Chris's beard caused on her skin, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing the top of his head, squeezing him lightly, before taking a step back.

"Come on, silly. Let's eat." She spoke, taking his right hand and making him stand next to the stove before picking up a round ceramic plate and two smaller bowls.

Y/N lifted the pot by one of the handles with her left hand while holding the silicone spoon with her right, turning it onto the plate.

"Hold the plate for me, baby. Please." She asked, and Chris didn't take long to do so, watching the way her tongue escaped between her lips in concentration, a smile appearing on his face as his blue eyes traveled over the features he loved so much. "If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to drop it on the counter." The girl whispered, her cheeks taking on a red hue.

Chris let out a laugh, suppressing his desire to shower her with kisses.

Y/N tipped almost all of the brown content onto the plate with the help of the spoon before straightening the pot and taking it over the two bowls, dividing what was left inside each one.

"What are these for?" The boy asked, dropping the plate he still held on the counter and looking at the bowls in confusion.

"Nick and Matt." She responded simply, finishing all the contents of the sweet before placing the pot in the sink, filling it with water and making a mental note to wash it before going to sleep, so as not to get ants from the sugar. "Would you like to taste it?" The girl asked, bringing the spoon closer to Chris's face, who had a soft smile on his face.

Chris felt himself falling in love with Y/N all over again every time she remembered her brothers when they were doing something, including them even if they weren't there; he loved the way she took care of the three of them with so much love and affection, like a family.

The boy nodded, opening his mouth slightly and bringing his face closer to Y/N's hand, wrapping his lips around the silicone spoon and licking the contents. His blue eyes instantly widened at the taste. It wasn't extremely sugary like he thought it would be. It was just the right amount of sweet.

His hand quickly took the spoon from Y/N's hand and finished licking it all, as if it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted - and maybe it really was.

The girl leaned over the counter and took her phone back, waving at the camera before stopping the recording, making a mental note to rewatch it the next day and, perhaps, post a snippet for the fans who loved seeing videos of the two of them together.

"I told you it was good." Y/N spoke as she laughed at his reaction, putting her cell in the pocket of her hoodie and opening the cutlery drawer, taking out four small spoons and placing one in each bowl and two on the plate. "Now, help me take this to your brothers."

"Yes, ma'am."

extra - comments:

"I'm so happy she posted this moment for us all to see together 😭"

"chris is such a drama queen 💀"

"omg that must have been so good 😫"

"Y/N separating a little for Nick and Matt, this is so sweet 🥺"

"Y/N standing behind Chris to help him make the brigadeiro LMAO that's so cute"

"Chris counting the spoonfuls of chocolate so he doesn't lose the count 😭😔"

"they are so beautiful together omg"

"I want what these bitches have 😔"

"petition for Y/N to make TikToks of her teaching Chris how to cook different things ✏️📄"

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