#but i wanted this to make sense damnit!

[flameofthescorpion]

Ramblings of someone way to hyperfixiated on Nevadas "Nowhere" (Headcanons - Apparatus designs applied)

EYESTRAIN WARNING LATER DOWN IN THE POST!

Sooooooooo welcome to me rambling about outside of Nevada because god we dont talk about the Machine alot and it greatly upsets me so imma do it.

Do keep in mind this is all headcanon and applies to my appartus designs, so it may not apply as well to canon

Now the Nowhere, or also called the "Curtain Of Nevada", is what happens if you leave the borders of Nevada, also called the World Borders

The world border is the main thing keeping the area secluded and together in the world of Nevada, meaning nothing exists outside the borders, HOWEVER, due to this area being quiet big for the Machine to host on one single server, it cut up Nevada into different sections where loading is required, now loading for Nevadeans is simply spacing out for a second and then good is, for the Machine however it is necessary to manage everything on an organized level. The 4 zones would be Nexus City, Somewhere, Nevada Central and due to the Demoniac cult activities both Stygian and the Machine are in unison to have cut the Haunting House into its own seperate loading area to keep the improbability levels at least somewhat contained so it doesnt overflow with the drive active.

If you looked at the image closely you would have noticed some points on the world borders where it says "Enter Zone", Enter Zones are exactly what their name entails. While the world is indeed stable, theres some part of the border where its easier to cross behind "the curtain" than it is on others.

Now what i will have to elaborate on is exactly what i mean in the context of "curtain" Its quiet simple really Nevadeans and mortals in general do NOT see reality as it is, they see a simple illusionary curtain to keep their sanity stable. HOWEVER, the employers are complex enough to see the world for what it really is as they were built by the machine to keep order and to protect its very system which is everywhere and nowhere at the same time

Reality in actuality consists of corners, chains and platforms, or in the most simple definition i can give it The Machines Skeleton.

However only the employers can IN NORMAL SITUATIONS SEE THIS. Is it possible for Nevadeans to Noclip behind the curtain and see what reality really consists of? Yes but its not nearly as clear as the employers can

They can still see of course but massively impaired due to the fact they werent SUPPOSED to see this all. And their vision is not the only negative effects theyll take from going behind the curtain, because there is indeed 2 different scenarios:

Scenario 1: The Employers acting as the Machines security system would most likely notice this new arrival, and Auditor, being the first to usually take care of this issue, would rip them to utter shreds as now this Nevadean would pose a threat to the system due to having directly interacted with it.

Scenario 2: They are lucky enough to notice this isnt good and noclip back before any of the employers get alerted of their arrival. Even in this case they arent truely off the Hook as they either A. go insane from what their mind has just witnessed B. If enough mental collection is present, turn into a disquieted.

Some beings such as The S-3lf Eater however will not be affected by this as it was deliberatly built to suck energy off the Machine, due to this the Employers cant detect it as a threat either, essentially, its a parasite. (that was what the comic yesterday was about BTW)

Reality overall is a topic that not many talk about because only few know of the Machine as a concept, mostly only Dr Gonne, who abused this knowledge, 2BDamned who also abused said knowledge however in favour of the Maker and the Cyberbandits who have a way stronger connection to the Machine as it is "the serverhost".

Is a connection of the Machine, aka the server, ever SEVERED with a Nevadean it would have devestating effects on the Nevadean. The second the connection to "The Server" is gone, the Nevadean will IMMIDIANTLY loose most of their recollection and personality as the machine is the one storing the data of such. In most cases one of the younger employers, either Conductor or Auditor help to re-connect this individual with the Machine....or well if not i think we all know what they would do.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk im so sorry if none of this made sense im very passionate about my favourrite Higher Power, love the metal crab-

[mecchantheotaku]

in my sleepy state right now i can't stop thinking about the moment of clarity route and how much all the voices have clearly suffered between the nightmare removing her mask and then. i wish there was an option to comfort them. they didn't deserve that.

[lemonmatronics]

I finished sketching and coloring Metal but I have insanely mixed feelings on it so I think I’m gonna be posting two versions, so congrats fellow Metal fans my bias is convincing me to do more work

[sheliesshattered]

The overdress is all in one piece! And we have sleeves! With bonus screen accurate Rhaenyra ring!

Work has been extra weird this week, but weird in a way that's given me more time to iron and pin and sew than I usually have. So I was able to get through that long list of pressing tasks from my last post, and then pin the two front panels to the side panels (which are already sewn to the back panels), pin the back seams of the sleeves, and sew those four seams earlier today.

With those seams done, the sleeves are sleeve-shaped and the dress is basically dress-shaped. All of those new seams need pressed, and the sleeve seams will need to be hand-finished since the black silk organza is a bit itchy on its cut edges. There's just one more body seam left to sew for the dress, the center front seam, and then the little shoulder seams.

There's quite a lot of finishing to be done, both on the dress and the sleeves. In the above pic, the sleeve is just clamped closed at the underside of the wrist, and once it has its hooks-and-eyes it'll fit a lot more smoothly. And then there's all the seam finishing for the dress, hemming the neck and armscyes and skirt edge, and handsewing on all the trim and beading. Lots to do!

I've been working little by little on the handsewing for the seams finishes for the underdress, and then it will need all its hemming too. But when possible I've been trying to focus on the overdress, because if it came down to it, I would rather have the overdress done and leave the underdress somewhat unfinished. But today is exactly 15 weeks until I have to pack for Dragon Con, so I've still got time, and I'm hoping I can get everything finished to my liking in the time remaining.

Besides the dress itself, I still have a few things to do on the wig, and I've been tracking down the jewelry pieces one by one, and I may actually end up making one piece that I've been unable to find. I also want to make a little handbag to carry all my stuff at con, but that's definitely on the nice-to-have list.

Some days I feel like I'll be able to get through this whole project with time to spare, and other days I feel like I'm going to be working on it up until the very last moment, and maybe have to cut corners to get it done. Getting through this last portion of machine sewing and into all the extensive handsewing will hopefully give me a better idea of how long the whole thing will take.

But, of course, I'm already having Ideas™ about what other cosplays I could make for Dragon Con this year, if I do end up having time at the end of the summer. One of them would be pretty straightforward, and I could use the same pattern as this project with just a few modifications, and I already have at least most of the materials I would need to complete it. The other one is completely ridiculous, with tedious machine sewing and handsewing, but damn it would be fun.

Welp. I guess if I want to have any hope of finishing this cosplay and maybe one or two more after that, I should probably get back to it. My iron awaits!

[constellationcrowned]

((All signs point to Kariom being a lot like Serban in his youth. Was he a stern kid? Yes. Grumpy? Yes. But he also had fun and was mischievous. He made pinwheels, he wanted to fly kites, he drew and colored in one of Flynn's gardening books (he drew constellations ofc but no doubt other things too) he ate so many cattails by the lake he almost choked to death, he ran around and got into trouble, he tried to make friends, and so on.

It's important to remember that he was a kid and he wasn't always so obsessively driven by his duty---and I mean driven to the point of where he, as an adult, considers all of that stuff as stupid, inconsequential, etc, and prefers not to think on it, driven to the point of self degradation (whether he acknowledges it or not and let's face it; he doesn't), etc, etc---such a severe reaction has to have a cause. Something changed him, something shifted his focus and it was definitely something huge. I imagine it's in part due to whatever happened to the Solomonari and his involvement on top of a variety of other things that built up over time until he could hold nothing else.))

[real-life-creature-feature]

one genre of post i see usually on hear that pisses me off in a very specific way which is those “this <insert whatever something here> thing would be great if it was just completely different” cause i just want to shake the person and others reblogging it cause you can just make something that is of what you want THERE IS SO MUCH AT YOUR FINGERTIPS YOU CAN JUST DO 

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

I wish so badly that I never started watching Downton abbey because here I am now having near anxiety attacks over a fictional character and it’s just miserable and I want out!!!! This obsession hurts more than it feels good but I can’t get rid of it and idk how 😭

[dollfacefantasy]

can't get started ♡

older bf!logan howlett x fem!reader

logan can't get it up one night and is humiliated. but that just means he'll have to prove he can still satisfy you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, age gap (reader in 20s)

a/n: the part in dpw where he said he's got whiskey dick with the claws turned me on too much tbh

This had never happened to Logan before.

That wasn't a lie he was telling you to make himself look less pathetic. It wasn't an affirmation he repeated in his own head to feel like he was still hot shit. It was the truth. One he would swear to on anything.

He'd never had a problem getting it up before.

Not with you, not with anyone. He thought the healing factor made him immune to whiskey dick or any kind of down-there dysfunction. But apparently not. Because the two of you finally had some time alone after being amidst the chaos of the mansion all day and his body was stalling.

The second he had the bedroom door shut, you were dragging him over to the bed and climbing into his lap. You were doing everything like usual. Your lips pressed against his, and then moved to his jawline and down his neck. Your hands glided across the firm muscles of his chest. Your hips rolled down against his lap, beckoning the appendage between his legs to reciprocate your desire.

But it just wouldn't. He tried to make it because it wasn't a matter of not wanting you. He wanted you bad. 

He grabs your chin and brings your lips back up to his mouth so he can communicate his passion wordlessly. He digs his fingers into your hips, feeling the beginnings of where your flesh swells into your ass. He envisions how you'd been prancing around the whole day, cute tits pushing against the fabric of your t-shirt and calling out for him to grab.

You're so soft and warm. The little mewls that leave your lips sound like calls of angels up above. It doesn't matter though. His cock had clocked out for the night.

"God damnit," he grumbles before brushing you off his lap and bringing his fist down against the mattress. He sighs and his head hangs.

He can already sense the look on your face. Worry, hesitation, and affection swirling into one humiliating look. He feels your hand find his shoulder, the touch tender and accepting.

"It's ok, Logan. We don't have to," you say. Your tone is so soft and gentle, and it just drives him fucking nuts.

"But you want to," he says and looks over at you. The look in your eyes kills him. He knows you don't mean it, but it looks so patronizing. As if he's an old dog about to be taken out back and old yeller'd.

"Yeah but I don't want you to force yourself. We can just cuddle," you offer, sweet as can be.

"It's not forcing, I want to do this. I want you so bad," he says and cups your cheek. He pulls you back onto his lap and nuzzles your neck. "Been thinking about this all day."

You let out a little sigh as he lays some kisses on the column of your throat, and that gives him a spark of hope. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he doesn't have to be put out to pasture just yet. The two of you make out and grind and feel each other up some more. But eventually your tits are all but in his face and his dick still doesn't have a pulse.

He huffs and pulls back. 'Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says.

You watch him, the gleam in your eyes as adoring as ever. It was the same look you gave him when you'd have to explain a basic function of a cell phone to him.

"It's ok. You don't have to be embarrassed," you reassure and lean in to peck his cheek.

He groans and gently brushes you off. "Don't. I don't need you coddling me."

"I'm just saying. I understand," you say with conviction, hands splaying on your chest to physically convey your empathy, "It happens to lots of guys when they get older. You don't have to be ashamed of it with me."

And in that moment, he wishes he didn't have his mutation so he could just die on the spot from being utterly mortified. He'd actually have preferred if you laughed in his face and called him an old man. A sad, old, perverted fuck who decided to date some half his age even though he couldn't keep up with her appetite. If you'd told him you were gonna find someone who could satisfy you, it probably would've stung less than being talked to like a patient who doesn't know their cancer is terminal.

There was no chance in hell, you'd ever do any of that though. As much as he hated that fact right now, it was part of why he loved you.

All he does is mumble a thank you and kiss the corner of your mouth. He doesn't just cuddle you after though. He gets you off on his thigh. You were still going to cum even if he couldn't. When you're done, he holds you close and rubs your back till you're sleeping curled up to his side.

His night isn't very restful though. It's haunted with the prospect of future incidents like this, of your perception of him changing. The look in your eyes changing from admiration to pity.

He can't live with that. The next day for the two of you is super busy, but he makes sure there's a spot at the end of it for him to secure his redemption.

This time around it's him carting you away from the others once the sun is down, mouth on the curve of your neck before you even reach the bedroom. His hands grope your waist and paw at your tits. You stumble into the door, bumping it loud enough that you'd be worried about someone hearing you if they weren't all downstairs.

"Logan..." you giggle. You push your ass back against him and glance at him out of your peripheral.

"Not what you're gonna be calling me before the night is done, sweet thing," he grunts and boosts you up.

Your legs press into his sides to support yourself as he opens the door. He takes the two of you inside and kicks it shut behind him before heading to the bed and tossing you on the mattress.

You look up at him with a coy smile, arms propping you up and one of your legs extended to entice him.

"You know... you don't have to prove anything to me, right?" you say.

"Oh, I don't?" he asks and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your hips meet, "You're too easy to please, babydoll."

Another laugh bubbles through your lips. Your legs drop to lock around his waist. "I'm just saying. It's like totally normal, and I don't want you to get all grumpy about it."

"Oh, I get grumpy, do I?" he asks as he leans over you. His large body envelopes yours on the mattress. He ducks down further to swallow your words up with kisses.

You hum into the exchange but pull back a little to finish your thought.

"Mhm, you do. And I just don't want you to feel that way cause I knew when we got together what I was getting into," you say.

Your confidence is so cute. You talk with absolute certainty, like you understand all there is to be understood about him. Like you'd known him forever and he hadn't been doing things like this for decades longer than you walked this earth.

His mouth crashes against yours again, his body weighing down on you and crushing you into the mattress. 

"You did, hm? You knew what you were getting into? You got with me thinking I wouldn't be able to give it to you how you need all the time?" he mutters against your skin.

"I didn't mean it like-"

"Didn't mean it like that? How'd you mean it then, sweetheart?"

"I dunno..."

"Doesn't sound like you knew what you were getting into to me," he breathes.

That little sentence that you'd said in an attempt to comfort him unlocked something between the two of you. He felt his cock waking up and pressing against his zipper, eager to get out and slide home. It's hard to register your clothes being pulled off when he's got his tongue in your mouth and his fingers playing with your clit. In no time at all, he's got the both of you bare and his cock nestled between your thighs.

Like he already knew, the issue last night had never been about lack of desire. And he intended to prove that to you, fuck you so good it wiped your memory of any placating word that fell from your lips.

He ruts into you hard. The mattress rocks on the bed frame and threatens to slide off. His dick is big and even though it's not a new sensation for you, each time you take it is a stretch. It's even more so when he pushes you up by the back of your knees. You whine as you're folded in half. His thrusts hit your sweet spot every time at this angle.

"Thought you knew what you were getting into?" he teases as he pistons himself in and out.

You mewl and bob your head, though you aren't sure if you're shaking your head or nodding.

"Fuckkkk, Logan. 'm sorry," you pant. Your walls squeeze tight around his shaft as your eyes close up. He made every part of your body contract and feel like it was moments from exploding.

He simply laughs at your apology. "Don't gotta be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just showing you what happens when I get older."

His balls hang heavy and swing with each motion, clapping against your ass. The heat between your legs is enough to make you squirm. Constant whimpers pour from your lips as he fucks into you without mercy.

"I know," you moan, "You fuck me better than anyone else."

"That's right," he grunts, "Nobody else could fuck you like this. Just me."

"Mhm, just daddy," you slur and cling onto him tighter. Your arms hook around his neck and keep his sweaty skin flush against yours.

"Just daddy," he repeats, his tone smooth like silk despite his raspy voice, "You don't need anyone else. Not when I can take care of you like this."

His tip prods at your cervix, making you yelp and buck. He doesn't stop though, just keeps battering into you, hammering into your warm, wet hole.

"You don't need any little boys thinking they know how to handle you," he breathes and nuzzles your neck, "Your old man can handle you just fine, make you cum whenever you need."

A strangled cry leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his back so hard that it seems like you wanted to draw blood. His words just make you melt for him. Reduce you down to a compliant jumble of flesh for him to mold and play with how he wants.

"Needa cum right now, daddy," you whine.

"I know you do, spoiled girl. You act so understanding, but I know that little pussy is aching to cum around my cock. To get filled up with my cum," he murmurs.

You nod wildly.

He chuckles at your eagerness and snaps against you even harder.

"Hold on tight, baby," he whispers.

His hips ricochet off your ass, clapping against you with intensity that borders on violent. You squeal and hang on as directed. Your whole body rocks with his momentum. Your head bobbles around like it's empty, which it is. Empty of everything but him.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

"Let it out for me. Let me feel you burst, pretty girl," he grunts as he continues plowing into you.

Your body rolls. Your hips vibrate with the ecstasy release brings you. It crashes over you in one intense wave, like a gallon of liquid euphoria being poured over you. Your eyes flutter, and you bury your face in his neck like he has his in yours.

He fucks you through it. Coos in your ear too. "That's my baby. My sweet girl. Always sound so pretty when you're cumming."

One of your hands flies up to clutch at his thick, dark hair. Keeping him close keeps the words flowing.

"Getting so tight for me, fuck. No one can make me cum like you, honey. Drains me dry every fucking time."

Moments later he spurts into you, unloading thick ropes of his spend inside you. You let out another moan from that sensation alone. He growls and pants against your skin, his hands locking you in place as his hips pummel into your cunt and make sure every last drop has been released.

He lingers on you for a few moments before pulling out. His body feels loose in the afterglow. He stands at the edge of the bed and looks down at himself and then you. He knows he's gonna have to clean you up. Your inner thighs are shimmery with a mix of fluids, and the bush of dark hair at the base of his cock is in the same condition.

"Time to shower, baby?" he asks and pats your leg. You don't respond at first and he smirks. "Or did I tire you out too much?"

You whine something incoherent and shift to turn your face against the blankets. His smug look grows. He crawls over you again and nips at your jaw, rubbing his nose against your cheekbone.

"You know, it's ok, sweetheart. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's totally normal for pretty little things like you. I knew that going in."

His tone mimics your soft and understanding one from earlier. You make a little growl and swat at his bicep.

“Shut up, old man.”

[lindariellanthir]

HELPPP 😭

Guys did I just... lose an ask??

I got a email earlier showing me an ask I received, but I don't see it in my inbox 😥 And the 'answer' link in the mail doesn't lead anywhere either...

Is that like a Tumblr mistake?? Does it happen to other people too? Or is it actually possible to take back an ask you already send? Like maybe the other person didn't mean to send it so they somehow... unsent it? (if that's possible...)

And it's from somebody I've never interacted with so I don't really want to mention it to them (bc what if they really sent it by accident or bc they mistook me for sb else, and I'd just make things awkward for everyone if I said something 😭)

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[m0th-gh0st]

I love living outside of the UK I love online stores not shipping to my country DESPITE THE FACT THEY'LL SHIP TO THE TOP PART OF IT

[talaok]

But Daddy I Love Him

summary: You and Joel shouldn't be together. According to the people in Jackson, he's a bad, cruel, crazy man, and yet... he's all you ever wanted.

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v), angst, blood, physical fight (?), happy ending (cause of course)

a/n: ive been obsessed with this song since it came out, please just go listen to it

Now I'm runnin' with my dress unbuttoned Screamin', "But, Daddy, I love him I'm havin' his baby" No, I'm not, but you should see your faces I'm tellin' him to floor it through the fences No, I'm not coming to my senses I know he's crazy, but he's the one I want

— — —

"fuck"

"god"

His breath, his hands, his beard, his mouth, his cock

Him

He was all you could feel, he was all that existed,

nothing but him and his intoxicating aura, his manly mist, his sweaty body his strong arms,

Him

Joel Miller

The man you should not want, the man you should be terrified of, that you should run and hide from, 

the terrible, crazy, Joel Miller 

The same one everyone told you to stay away from, your friends, your family, strangers, the entirety of Jackson

And yet he was the only man you ever really wanted, really needed. 

"I missed you so much"

Even your own voice was nothing, it was a phantom of something that existed long ago, something that stopped living every time he was near, every time he would make everything dissipate into thin air with just his presence.

"I missed you too baby girl" he grunted,

oh how he grunts, how he groans, how he moans

nobody does it like him

"missed you so fucking much darlin'"

His voice felt like a prayer, like a sweet invocation to the sky up above, to whomever would listen,

one that countered completely what he was doing, the nothing but sinful way he had you up against the wall, his hands gripping your waist as he thrust his cock in and out of you so fast you might just break.

The bed was right beside you, but that didn't matter, that's how you were

You and Joel, 

like animals, like soulmates, like desperate, desperate lovers

Your minds didn't work the same when you were near, they didn't work at all, one could argue

But isn't that was love is after all?

"oh my god" you moaned, hiding your head in the crook of his neck as one particular deep thrust made you see stars

"I know darlin'" he cooed, only going faster, deeper "I know"

"Joel" you cried, biting down on his skin "f-fuck"

It had only been two weeks since you last saw each other, but it might as well been decades.

They had sent him away.

Nobody liked him in Jackson, not once they'd learned his story, the terrible things he'd done

And when they found out about you... not even his own brother could protect him.

So they'd exiled him. 

But they couldn't keep him away forever, not when he had something to come back for.

"god fuckin' damnit babygirl- you feel so fuckin' good"

Your moans only got higher, your nails clinging to his back like a rabid cat.

"perfect lil' pussy" he growled, his hot breath on your sweaty neck pulling shivers from your body "Perfect fuckin' girl"

"oh fuck" you whined, tightening your legs' hold onto his waist 

"you feel so good too Joel" you promised, breathing heavily in synch with him "You and your perfect cock"

He groaned so loud he sounded like an animal

"might want to keep that pretty mouth shut if you want this to last, sugar"

You didn't know where you found the strength to laugh, but you did

"you're gonna come too soon, old man?"

His hold on your waist pulled you even closer, as you raised your head to look him in the eyes

God, he was handsome

"just might, if you keep saying stuff like that"

but before you could tell him how it wasn't fair, how he did it all the time and you couldn't do it even once, his thumb was on your clit and your eyes were to the back of your head.

"no" he stopped you before you could hide your face from him again "I want to see you"

And as warmth filled your chest and your forehead fell to his and pressure built in your belly, he murmured:

"good girl- come for me, just like that- Jesus Christ-"

And so you did,

You came and moaned and cried, and it didn't take much before he was doing the same, pumping you full of him until he'd given you every single drop.

And then you kissed, he kissed you slowly and gently and in the same exact way that made you fall for him the very first time.

"god I missed you so much" he breathed once you leaned away

A smile from ear to ear took over your face and all you could do was kiss him again

"me too baby" you murmured, as he helped you to your feet

You both smiled like silly idiots as you dressed again,

but neither of you could resist being in each other's arms, so you didn't.

He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the crown of your head once you rested it on his still bare chest.

You didn't get how anyone could hate him,

You swore they wouldn't, they wouldn't if they only got to meet him, the real him, not the idea of him they had painted in their minds.

And so you hummed, breathing him in, clinging to him as he clung to you

Up until the very moment it all went to shit

Again.

"hey honey I just got back I-"

It was sad really, the fact you'd seen this scene before.

The disappointment in your dad's eyes, the fear turning into primal rage inside his iris, his fists tightening, Joel taking a step back

A deja-vu had never felt quite so devastating

"Arthur" Joel tried to speak, but your dad was already on him, his fist had already connected with his cheek

"What did I tell you!?" another punch "Last time was just a fucking warning!" and another

Joel was on the ground

He wasn't going to fight back.

This wasn't how he wanted to handle things

Not this time

Not with you

"I'll kill you this time you fucking disgusting pervert!" you swore you heard Joel's cheekbone crack with another hit "How dare you!?" your dad growled, Joel's bloody face beneath him "In my own home- how dare you take advantage of my daughter you fucking- pig!"

Your eyes were overflowing with tears, the top buttons of your dress were still unbuttoned, and Joel's chest was rising and falling too slowly, much too slowly

"dad"

But he kept going

"dad stop!"

you grabbed his wrist, and the moment his eyes met yours it felt like the word stopped, like it had frozen over.

You caused all that anger, all that pain

But if he just would listen to you...

"y/n"

"dad" your voice trembled as much as your fingers "dad I love him"

You saw his heart break. For all the wrong reasons,

for his poor daughter who was taken advantage of, for the naive, innocent daughter he couldn't protect. For the daughter that didn't exist. Because that wasn't you, that wasn't how things had gone.

"you don't know what you're saying"

His voice was harsh, cruel, cold.

"But I do!" tears ran down your cheeks as you glanced down to where Joel lay, to the cuts and blood coating his face "I love him dad, I really really do"

"You don't know who this man is" he said "The things he's done..." he said with a snarl, as if disgusted, as if the rage was surging from his chest all over again

"I know" you whispered "I know everything- He told me all of it dad, please" you begged "Please just let him go, let him talk"

"I don't need to listen to a word that comes out of this fucker's mouth"

"but dad-"

It was like a bomb went off

"HE'S 56!" he yelled, his grip on Joel's neck tightening "he's fifty fucking six y/n! You just fucking turned 21!" his voice bounced off the walls like thunder, "You're not even half his age!"

"who cares!?" you screamed too now, only your voice was interrupted by sobs 

"I DO!" he roared "Your mom would!" his eyes were wide with urgency, and although he was mad you could still hear the care behind his words "He might have made you think this is ok, that he loves you, but trust me none of it is true" he sighed "He's using you honey, I know it's hard to understand right now, but you- you're young- you don't know-"

Your hand left him, shaking as it went to wipe your tears.

"dad" you said more firmly now "I might be young but I'm not stupid"

"y/n-"

"no" you stopped him "Dad this is the first time I've ever felt this way, like I cannot breathe when he's not close, like I need him more than I need air" you swallowed thickly "And I know- I know it's hard to understand, I know it's easier to just go with the narrative in your head, of the fragile little girl and the big creepy guy, but this-" you took a shaky breath as you glanced at Joel again

His eyes were barely open, he was barely conscious

"This isn't like that" you promised "I- I love him, and he loves me"

"Honey-"

"I'm not done" you stopped him again "I'll never forgive you dad" you shook your head, simply stating the truth "I'll never forgive you if you do this, if you don't even give him a chance to explain, to tell you how things really are"

You saw the conflict in his eyes, the searing pain caused him to hear such words from his daughter, to hear her beg and threaten and speak up all at once,

and yet... yet he couldn't shake off the honesty, the hope lacing your words, your voice, sparkling from your eyes

And so he did the only thing he could,

he agreed, he agreed to hear the full story.

___

That was two years ago now,

and sometimes you wondered if it all was just a bad dream, if your imagination had tricked you into believing some silly made-up story,

but the glares from the people in town always seemed to refresh your memory.

And yes, maybe you would have liked to live a life without people whispering ugly things about you behind your back every day... but then maybe, maybe it was all worth it

For this.

For the child growing in your belly, for the veil on top of your head, for the sound of your dad stifling his sobs beside you, 

for the image of Joel waiting for you at the end of the aisle, for the tears in his eyes, for the smile on his face,

for him, 

for you,

It was all worth it,

Yes, yes it definitely was.

— — —

Now I'm dancin' in my dress in the sun and Even my daddy just loves him I'm his lady And, oh, my God, you should see your faces Time, doesn't it give some perspective? And, no, you can't come to the wedding I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want

[celibibratty]

(sigh), yesterday was the day, the day that changed everything, the day I saw that damn story, whenever December 23th arrives I always think about that, i will talk about this day cuz i think It's important for me to talk about this💨, I even remember the clothes I was wearing that day, I was wearing a blue tank top with flowery purple short, it was 2019, I was in the bedroom and it was almost night, I was watching this ao3, checking to see if there was any new sean x daniel story, and I updated the page and with that a new fanfic appeared (which was this damn story), I looked at the tags and saw that the story was happening in blood brothers and there was something to do with rape/abuse, I thought "hmn, this must be just another story of Sean acting like a freak (and I also i used read all of the stories,so)", I put it on, the story had started with the first red flag, which it was the fact that the person put the homies from ep 3 (cough, cough cassidy) in it and made daniel being supeer okay with that 💢🔥, and i get super pissed because in the story the person put that daniel was jealous of finn stealing sean from him tho in the game daniel is jealous of sean WITH CASSIDY NOT WITH FINN!!!💢🔥(and in the story there was cassidy in the middle), i thought it was so stupid, but keep reading, well, then we got to the shocking part, I got to the part that is close when things...start happening, and I realized that daniel had some weird dialogues and a very strange way for being the victim, I just remember that I felt a pain in my stomach, a bad feeling and thought "wait!?, is daniel who going to do this to sean?, no, no, it can't be, it can't be that", then I went down and I got to the naughty parts, I realized it was really Daniel and I thought "yeah, it is", I was so shocked, so disgusted, it never crossed my mind to invent Daniel doing this to Sean, I never pictured Daniel that way (he was my bratty💧, the sassy pretty kid💧), i never thought of daniel like that with sean, i didn't imagine them like that even in redemption (even daniel being more masculine), imagine then in bb, never!, I got super anxious, I started to shake, my breathing was so labored, I couldn't even breathe, but my mind forced me to keep reading until I finished, because I thought that if I kept reading, if I endured it maybe it would hurt less...

(it's almost like I knew that from now on this version of their pair would be more frequent, so i should get used to it, a-and I didn't wanted to sound boring, or different, I don't understand why I thought that way, I don't care what others think, but at the time I remember that I didn't wanted to be different, i didn't wanted to be the only one), I felt like snow white in the scene with the trees, I had finished reading, totally devastated and a bit numb, I saw that there were some comments, I wanted to see even for maliciousness, i wanted to see if someone was complaining about this shit, but no, and to my surprise every single person that i knew that were the ones that "enjoyed" sean x daniel was praising it, i felt (sigh) so betrayed, the comments people saying things like "possessive daniel is so hot", " oh, daniel topping sean is such a concerpt that should be more explore" and I was like "no, what do you mean?, daniel is not like that, I thought you liked it them together because it was cute💧", I felt horrified, it was everyone, I remember throwing the phone on the bed in horror, then I got up and went to do my tasks to reflect a little, before I talk about this part I need to talk about another situation/fanfic that have a great influence on that day, but sometimes I forget about it (well, before this damn fanfic appeared, the most recent and famous story was a story that had a kinda of lolita vibe, that's what I call this story, the lolita story vibe, this fanfic was also one that had/has a kinda of heavy/nonsense vibe, but I had read it and thought it was okay, I even kinda of...liked it at the time💨, but then one day someone made a comment saying that they didn't like the story very much, because they thought sean didn't seem like sean, he was very pervert and that the story had a kind of strange vibe, very heavy, and the person didn't like it very much, I was so ashamed, I hadn't thought like that, I thought it was okay, I got like "yeah, y-you are right, this story is do weird💧💨"...

continuing, I remember cleaning the cats' potty and mentally saying "I hated this story, I thought it was disgusting, horrible, I want the person who invented it to suffer, I thought it was horrible" but then another voice appeared saying "no ana, don't say that, it's not cool to talk like that about other people's work, the person probably worked hard on it, the story was huge), but I thought "i don't care, I thought it was nasty, I hated it, that was horrible", and then the other voice said "oh, ana, but the lolita story was also horrible, and YOU liked it!, you don't have the right to complain, if you liked that one, now you'll have to like this one too" (it seemed like a dispute between my mind and my heart), I felt so bad, I wanted to take it away from me, but I couldn't open up to anyone, I was thinking about marina, what was I going to say to her?💧, I didn't wanted her to see these dolls like that, I didn't wanted that she sees them like that now too, I didn't wanted her to remain like me, I think it's horrible, but I swear I would give this story a kudo even though I hated it and it made me feel so sick, but it was because I thought that maybe giving a kudo I would feel less bad for having hated it, I finished doing what I had to do, I went to the bedroom and when I updated the page of this ao3 the story was gone, it gone in the same day(it seems like it only appeared to mess with my head cuz it gone right after it), the story had been deleted (and thank god it was gone, i swear i would have given a kudo if it hadn't and i would never-forgive-myself-for-it), i got so relieved, i even felt...happy, but what had it done to me , it was done, even relieved, I still felt strange, I felt that I had lost something, and I say, I feel that on that day I lost my love for these dolls, after that it was never the same, tbh i feel like i lost everything, everything that meant to me (my love for this dolls, my confidence, my stability, a-and my creativity)

[fairymint]

🚲 : Does your OC enjoy playing the field? Or are they more monogamy-minded?

You and I have had this conversations in DMs, loooool and-

two wolves inside of me. 'felix never gets laid because he never sits still and is picky' 'felix is a celebrity that gets propositioned and also is kind of a slut' hbjsnkdfsd he'd much rather be monogamous but fffffff lmaooo

In all seriousness, I do think he's slept with at least 3 guys. only because of 3 specific experiences that I know he likes, which makes looking at men more awkward and attractive- He knows his preferences. what matters. ....which is not as many as IRL but i have to note that we're both formerly-ace and probably started late? Probably the weirdest meta is just explaining why those guys don't have him anymore. Though he does have more freedom at 18 than I ever had until age 22. but yeah I am wishy-washy with how 'busy' I imagine Felix to be, but more towards picky-

He is more monogomy minded, generally speaking, but I do think he plays the field just a little nonsexually- My usual explanation for multiship stuff is that whatever guy he ends up with happens first- it's whoever bothers to take the step and get involved w/ him. and the default reason for him being single is being unable to pick between guys before moving locations and forgetting about them. I'm probably gonna say, that he's not one to date around if he can help it- only flirt. So he'll date one guy at a time, and unless it's explicitly a fling/benefits situation or one-night stand, will probs fall in love in bed. Lot of selfships that I have with allosexual muses end up with his partner thirsting for him a bit spontaneously in the moment, cause they're a bit more rash/needy than him and take the opportunity, especially when they see that he's vulnerable to physical touch. They'll just be netflixin or some shit, get too close, and start to chill-

[tododeku-or-bust]

could you elaborate a bit on that post abt (not) wearing headphones in public/playing your phone out loud? i was under the idea that it was nice to not play stuff aloud bc ppl might have migraines or be sound avoidant, but didn't realize i might just be seeing it from a white perspective, and id love to learn more

All right! First, check this link out: Xochitl does a far more eloquent job of explaining the idea than I would:

I assume that you're specifically honing in on my tag about the "white right of comfort".

Okay, so here's the thing. You're allowed to find public noise annoying. I too, find public TikToks and music annoying! And if you have migraines and such, I can understand how it would be impolite and inconvenient.

But what you're NOT allowed to do, is feel entitled to the public and prioritizing your OWN comfort in it over everyone else to the point of DEMANDING that it conforms to you or it's "bad". Especially when there are things you as an individual can do to prevent this discomfort.

While this gross sense of entitlement is very first world American in nature, it is extremely White American in nature because white Americans actually have the social power to enforce what they believe is the "right" thing based on their own standards.

For many cultures around the world and for many people of color, noise in the community is a GOOD thing. It's part of being a community. I feel safer if the people around me feel safe enough to be outside, to exist and to be, visibly in public.

And you got to understand, while many white people think they're genuinely in the right for believing that being loud on public transit or in the public is worth enforcing as a "bad" thing, people of color have literally already been killed for it. A Black teenager was shot in the face for playing music that a white man didn't like. A Black mentally ill man was murdered in front of EVERYBODY on a train because he was having a mental breakdown. This sort of policing ALREADY HAPPENS to us. Hell, even white gays with any sense of community should be aware of how queer gatherings would be shut down for "noise" (when in reality it was bc it was homophobia).

And now people want me to empathize that YOU'RE oppressed by... noise? On Public Transit?? IN PUBLIC?? Kiss my ass lmao.

I've been on trains where a man was legit growling at me like he wanted me dead. Another i saw Teens high on crack. Another where people beg and people sleep and people listen to music. And you know what I did? I turned my OWN music up and went on my way. Because at the end of the day, the only person I control is me!

And if people were REALLY concerned about others welfare, they would COMMUNICATE. no one is willing to say "hey, I have a headache, do you mind-" bc they're afraid of the rejection, so it's easier to demand "well EVERYONE SHOULD BE LIKE ME". Mhm. Learn to confront your issues. But you're not "unsafe" bc music. You're just annoyed, and you'll get over it.

In summary it really gives me "I can give you something to cry about" energy. Bc y'all swear y'all don't understand the existence of an HOA but here yall are replicating the same Karen behaviors, and y'all don't even realize (or maybe even care) how racist you sound. But why would you lmao, that makes you uncomfortable! And damnit, you have a right to comfort!!

[twola]

Can we have something with possessive/jealous Arthur Morgan? I can never get enough of this plot.

or...something with a pregnant reader? I don't know, I'm in my fertile period. 🙂‍↔️

¿Porque no los dos? Here is a little one~

Seething

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

The match sizzles as it hits the water.

Arthur runs his hand down his face, blinking at the match sink under the lake’s surface, not even interested in the unlit cigarette between his fingers. He shoves it back into his satchel as he loosens a long, worried breath.

Of course - he had known that this was possible. That this could happen. That he could be this stupid again. The worried look on your face when you came to him. The darkness under your eyes. The slipping out of his cot in the early morning you’ve been doing the last couple of weeks.

God damnit, Morgan.

Thoughts of a young waitress and a sandy-haired boy invade his thoughts. Regret, anger, fear, they rage in his gut, a maelstrom of repressed emotion threatening to boil over.

“Leave me alone-”

Your voice cuts through his wallowing like a sharpened knife. Immediately, all sense of his nervousness and pensive thought are gone - replaced by a burning rage - who could be making you yell out like that, threatened, aggrieved? 

“Come on now - honey, you know you want a real man to keep you warm at night.” A slimy, rough voice echoes from the glen where Arthur is quickly moving to. He’s gotten his answer, and as his hand closes on the smooth grip of his revolver, a natural motion whenever he senses danger.

Micah stands far too close to you for any man’s liking, and you scowl up at him from where you have gotten up from your seat on a fallen tree trunk.

You narrow your eyes as his hand closes around your bicep, “Let go of me, Micah.”

Micah smirks, his grimy hand moving up toward your neckline, “Morgan’ll never know -”

Before you can raise your voice at him further, Micah is yanked away from you, his hand around your arm jolts you forward before he lets go, but not before your blouse tears at the shoulder, the seam ripping along your neckline. You yelp as you regain your footing and clutch at the fabric of your blouse, your chemise and the swell of your breast visible before you can scramble to cover yourself.

“Tha’ fuck-?” Micah yells as he is drawn backward in surprise. You stumble a few steps back, the shadowed figure who pulled Micah from you visible now in the afternoon light.

Arthur grabs Micah by the neck, throwing him to the ground with relative ease. Swinging his leg over Micah’s chest, he leans over the man and sneers as he tightens his grip around his throat.

“I ever see you come near her again, I will rip your goddamn throat out.” Arthur threatens, unconcerned as Micah begins to gasp and cough under his iron grip. “You hear that?”

“Morg- ack- Morgan..-” Micah struggles, his hands around Arthur’s forearm, but he cannot move the larger man atop him.

“Arthur-” 

Arthur looks up, his heart racing in the way that a job gets him going - the thrill of the hunt, the joy of the kill. 

You look horrified, clutching at your ripped shirt over your breast.

“Arthur, stop. I’m fine - he - he ain’t worth it.” You breathe out. Arthur scowls in return.

“We’re getting outta camp f’r the night. Come on.” He seethes, dropping Micah as the blonde man gasps for breath on the ground.

-

Arthur does not say a single word to you the entire ride into town. Not when he stomped back to your shared tent. Not when he readied his horse. Not when he lifted you onto the mare’s rump, not when you arrived in town at the hotel, not when he gruffly requested a room and tossed a few coins at the poor clerk. 

Not when he closes the door behind you.

“Arthur.” You finally work up the courage to confront him, your hands clenching the fabric of your skirt at your sides.

He lets out a long, aggravated breath before turning around, pulling that old leather gambler’s hat, and tossing it onto the dresser next to him. He steps closer to you, but again, does not speak.

“Arthur, talk to me.”

“I-...” His hand slowly floats forward to lightly lay upon your belly, the softest, smallest swell beneath your skirts. It’s barely there, but your lover - he knows, he knows the changes in your body. The rounding of your breasts, the thickening of your waist. That swell; cradled above your hips. His child, growing there within you.

“I’m alright.” You try to calm him, covering his hand with your own and pressing it to your belly, “Nothing happened, Arthur. It’s all okay.”

“He touched you. He touched you and you’re… you’re…” He seethes.

“I’m yours.” You breathe, understanding what it is he’s stumbling over getting out, “I’m yours, Arthur. I’m yours and we’re gonna have our baby and everythin’ is going to be okay.”

“Let me…” He whispers roughly, reaching toward the shawl you wrapped over your shoulders to cover your ripped blouse. You shrug the shawl from your frame as he pushes at it gently. 

You’re drawn into his embrace forcefully, yelping slightly before he crushes his lips to yours. Your hands finally land on his biceps, steadying yourself as you return the kiss. At some point, Arthur gets impatient, grunting into your mouth as you feel his hands pull at the ties of your skirts. The fabric flutters to the floor as you start to work your ruined blouse off, gasping as his mouth moves to your neck, nipping with his teeth slightly before he lets you go to undress yourself, the blouse joining your skirt in a pile on the floor. You kick your boots off.

You pull your chemise from your frame, over your head, and throw it aside, and push your bloomers down your hips until they too fall to the floor with the rest of your clothing.

Arthur’s eyes darken, and those huge hands of his reach toward your naked frame. Those hands that murder and maim and steal and shoot.  But you know, as wound tightly as he is right now, those hands of his would never touch you with anything but gentleness.

You’re right, of course, as the back of his pointer finger lightly brushes a lock of your long hair back over your shoulder before his big, warm hand cups one of your breasts. You let out a breath of relief as he squeezes gently, pressing his lips against your forehead.

His other hand smoothes gently over your belly, moving down to that thatch of hair at the apex of your hips, his fingers slipping between your legs and finding your core with all the practiced knowledge of a lover. 

A swipe of those fingers along the seam of your body and he bites his lower lip against a groan when he finds you wet. “C’mon, hows about you lay down in that bed?”

You nod, backing up a few steps to sit on the hotel bed, watching him start to unbutton his work shirt as he kicks his boots off. You lay down as he rids himself of his pants, of his union suit. All six feet of him, scarred and muscular, paces toward the bed, a man on a mission.

Your arms snake around his neck as he climbs on top of you, bracing his weight on his forearms as he gently notches his cock between your folds. He has to stifle a growl at the gasp you make as his cockhead catches the rim of your cunt.

“Y’okay there?” Arthur rumbles, waiting for a response. You nod, opening your legs a little wider for him. He presses forward, the hot, hard inches of him sliding into your body - never forced, just enough pressure to make you throw your head back on the pillow.

Arthur doesn’t smother you, doesn’t plaster his larger body against yours as he usually does, keeping himself up on his forearms and bearing his weight on his knees. As much as he wants to pound into you, to stake his claim, to make you scream his name to prove to the world that you’re his - he doesn’t. He’s gentle, he’s slow.

You sigh contentedly as your fingers work through his hair, your hips moving in tandem with his as he thrusts into your heat. His heady, full rhythm has you nearing completion imminently.

Your heels dig into the base of his spine, and he knows you're about to come. Three more heaving thrusts and his name falls from your mouth as your orgasm licks up your spine, your hands clutching at him desperately as he rides out your high. He dips his head down next to yours and angles his hips downward, completely filling you, and one long exhale finds him releasing into you.

Moments pass, and in the room, the slowing of both of your breaths is the only sound

“All right now?” You pet his sweat-dampened hair before he grunts, extracting himself from you and laying on your side.

He doesn’t respond, not with words, at least.

You take his hand and press it against that soft, small swell of your belly as you close your eyes. You feel him moving next to you and when you feel his warm lips press upon your temple, you know, at least for now, he is all right.