#but its fine im bound to get to that point :)

[verytiredrn]

been giving hxh characters sonic designs and its been so much fun pls help

[seaweedstarshine]

Late to the game as I’ve kinda been kinda non-here for a minute but I scrolled through the Dot and Bubble tag, and thought I wanted to write this post into existence.

There's this part in Doctor Who Unleashed where RTD says this:

“What we can’t tell is how many people will have worked that out before the ending. Because they’ve seen white person after white person after white person, and television these days is very diverse. I wonder, will you be ten minutes into it, will you be fifteen, will you be twenty, before you start to think, everyone in this community is white. And if you don’t think that — why didn’t you? So, that’s gonna be interesting. I hope it’s one of those pieces of television you see, and always remember.”

And I'm like. Yeah. But the reason this works even as well as it does is largely thanks to the work of the previous showrunner with the previous creative team, which was notably the first era to have any writers of color (amongst other firsts in terms of inclusivity in directors, composer, actors). While Chibnall fumbled whenever he tried to write about race himself, he did have the self-awareness to have Black and South Asian writers writing the episodes where race is the focus (and a female writer for the episode where sexism is a focus; my point is, he seemed to know his shortcomings).

I wonder what the current creative team looks like? (not really, but I wasn't 100% sure for all of them)

To quote RTD:

“...before you start to think, everyone in this community is white.”

This is pretty non-self-aware, right? It's pretty “It is said, and I understand this, there was a history of racism with the original Toymaker, the Celestial Toymaker, who had ‘celestial,’ and I did not know this, but ‘celestial’ can mean of Chinese origin, but in a derogatory way,” right? (from The Giggle Unleashed) It's pretty “and I had problems with that, and a lot of us on the production team had problems with that: associating disability with evil,” right? (from Destination Skaro Unleashed)

—none of which are issues that should be overlooked, but think how much exponentially better they might’ve been addressed if he’d consulted with Chinese writers and wheelchair-using writers before going straight to giving the Toymaker weird fake accents and making Davros walk?

How many Black or non-white people do we think saw the Dot and Bubble script before it landed in Ncuti’s hands?

And this just keeps happening.

And like, from some of the shocked responses I've seen from white viewers to the ending of Dot and Bubble, maybe the episode's unsubtlety was needed? From the way RTD talks about it in Unleashed, the episode was written with a white audience in mind, Baby's First Microaggressions (where of course the microaggressions come from people who are pretty self-admittedly white supremacists). Ricky September, a more seemingly normal depiction of someone in the racist bubble of Finetime, seemed like an interesting element, up until the way he died.

The ending worked for me, because I do think the Doctor's reaction is true to how the Doctor would react. I just keep thinking of how much better the core themes could've been handled by someone with actual lived experience on the subject matter.

[sethsbigtits]

i forgot how scray having crushes are jesus fucking christ. like, one moment, i'll be over the moon because they text me and then all of a sudden i get scared when they don't respond for a bit and begin to overthink things. its even worse because i have anxiety and paranoia so now, im out here acting a complete hormonal, anxious, paranoid little freak until i get a response. like, i feel so,,,, weeeiiiirduh.

[sinsofsinister]

i paused my queue like a week ago because the queue fell below a number i dont like going under (turned it back on bc come on there's 312 posts in there it's fine) and i fully had intentions of filling it back up again but then i suddenly became heavily fixated on editing this Content Warning video so that's what i've been doing instead of literally everything else for the past week

[babieken]

this is random and mildly embarrassing but does anyone watch Grey's Anatomy here?

[tgcg]

the master baiter

TG: dont be mad

TG: ok thats like asking water not to be wet but

CG: WATER ISN'T FUCKING WET GOD DAMMIT.

TG: look whatever remember when you said you would die for me

TG: is that karkat in the room with us right now

======

CG: I'M DYING "FOR YOU" EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU PEEL OPEN THOSE SHIT-EATING LIPS YOU KEEP PULLED TAUT OVER YOUR DRONING IGNORANCE SHAFT.

TG: heheheh

======

CG: YOUR WORDSLUDGE SPEARS EVERY PARTICLE OF MY BODY WITH PINPOINT STRIDERIAN IDIOCY.

TG: oh shit here we go

CG: A VERBAL BARRAGE THAT PULVERIZES MY FLESH INTO A FINE RED MIST, KILLING ME INSTANTLY. WIPING ME THE FUCK OUT, TO SUCH AN INCREDIBLE DEGREE THAT PALEONTOLOGISTS CAN'T FULLY DISCERN IF A "KARKAT" FUCKING EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE.

CG: THEY'D BE SCRATCHING THEIR NUGBONES OVER IT FOR FUCKING SWEEPS, IF NOT FOR THE SHOCKING REALIZATION MERE MINUTES INTO THEIR DEBATES THAT NOBODY ACTUALLY GAVE A SHIT.

======

CG: AND YET THE TEMPORAL DEVICE STILL SWAYS TO AND FRO IN CONSTERNATION. VEXED BY THE COMPLETE MENTAL VACANCY PUT BEFORE IT BY MY HUMBLE SACRIFICE, BOUND BY ITS COSMIC ROLE, BEGRUDGED BY MY UNSOLICITED DEATH CLOCKING IT INTO OVERTIME. IT HAS BETTER SHIT TO DO, GOD DAMMIT! IT HAS A LUSUS AND A HIVE TO GET BACK TO!

CG: "WHAT IS THIS. WHO LET THIS ASSHOLE IN HERE," IT SAYS. THEY AREN'T EVEN QUESTIONS, JUST ORBITAL SIGHS OF AN UNCARING UNIVERSE. A REALITY NOW KEENLY AWARE OF ITS OWN LAUGH TRACK.

CG: AND ITS PENDULUM TEETERS, TENTATIVE IN ITS OWN DISBELIEF AND PROFOUND APATHY.

TG: damn

======

CG: "THIS SCUMBAG ISN'T EVEN GODTIER YET," IT POINTS OUT. THE AUDIENCE FLIPS THEIR COLLECTIVE SHIT, AGHAST AT THIS REVELATION.

TG: hahaha

CG: IT WELLS UP SUCH A THRUM OF FUCKING ENNUI THAT THE TIMEPIECE FLIPS OFF-KILTER, LANDING SQUARELY IN THE "DUMBASS" ZONE WITH A "FUCK IT" LOUD ENOUGH TO REVERBERATE THROUGHOUT PARADOX SPACE.

======

CG: IT THEN ELECTS TO KICK MY PATHETIC FUCKING HALF-CORPSE BACK INTO THE LIVING PLANE AND FORCE ME, VENGEFULLY FROM THE AUDACITY OF MY OWN IDIOCY, TO REPEAT THIS CYCLE AD NAUSEAM

CG: UNTIL EXISTENCE ITSELF FINALLY CROAKS UNDER THE COMBINED WEIGHT OF OUR COLOSSAL STUPIDITY.

CG: BECAUSE WHO THE FUCK WOULD I BE IF I EVER GOT TO HAVE A BREAK?

======

TG: yep there he is thats him offincer

TG: the man after my own heart

TG: thats a karkat brand "soft yes" if i ever heard one and i know my karkatisms dude im a goddamn graduate in karkatology

TG: i got my degree in this shit

TG: im rocking up to our convos with the dumbass black square hat thing cocked 45 degrees

TG: literally incapable of snapping it back kinda by design of the stupid thing but damn if im not doing it anyways im emanating the snappitudes

TG: im rocking my intelligence right now

TG: also water is absolutely wet dude its like the wettest thing on the planet

CG: I'M NOT REPEATING MYSELF AGAIN

TG: yeah you are

CG: FUCK. I AM.

======

CG: I SAID THE LAST THREE TIMES IT'S A CONDITIONAL TERM--

TG: and im saying its common sense like being wet isnt conditional when youre the perpetual thing of wettening

CG: NO

TG: and brother it is THE wet

TG: like following your conditional argument

TG: if water isnt wet then the other water molecules are constantly making each other fuckin wet so its a moot point

TG: great philosophical debate

TG: which came first the water or the wet?

CG: DAVE

TG: think about it all those particles are wetting each other up all the time and shit

TG: its a fucked up display

CG: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

======

TG: pretty much a perpetual orgy of the elements

CG: DUDE.

TG: that sounds kinda sick actually if you dont think about what it means

TG: h2orgy

CG: HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO VETO THIS STUPID DISCUSSION--

TG: tell me im wrong dude

CG: I'M UNIVERSE-APPOINTED TO HOVER AROUND YOU POINTING OUT EVERY DUMBASS TAKE YOU HAVE FOR THE REST OF TIME.

TG: thats so beautiful to me

TG: i could cry

[scaredpigeons]

Aqua Regia VII: Saturate me, I can’t get enough.

Previous chapter // First Chapter

Neuvillette x Fem!reader

Warning: SMUT NSFW 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.7k

Conifer forests quake in fear at the way you two pine. What do you get when you cross a very pent up dragon and the object of his affections? So much fucking love it will rot your teeth.

CW: sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (fem rec) neuvillette has a dragon tongue, claws appear but no wounds are made, Neuvillettes nest™️ nicknames: my dearest, my darling, love, pretty girl, perfect girl, very gendered language, im sorry :( unrealistic first time sex, multiple orgasms, implied multiple rounds.

Authors note: this is so fucking mushy gushy heavy fluff heavy romance. I literally couldn’t write his first time being any other way. He’s obsessed, okay? There is a lot of declarations of love, devotion, very flowery and flattering language. There are not many things hotter than an all powerful being declaring their utter devotion to you and then fucking you until the sun rises. I left it a little open ended, so maybe an epilogue chapter, if y’all are interested? Anyways, remember to reblog and comment your thoughts! It’s my literal favourite thing to read your opinions and compliments, even if you’re shy, just send an anon ask! I love you all, thank you so much for your support on this piece.

————————————

The sound of little pearls scattering onto the floor accompanied the press of your spine against the inside of Neuvillette’s front door as his mouth consumed yours. 

You were panting, hands roaming over each other as your tongues danced. You’d never kissed like this before. The polite pecks you’ve given men after failed dates were nothing compared to the way Neuvillette drank in your lips like they were the finest water in the world. 

His large, lean body pushed you against the fine wood of his door, hands pressing up into your hair as he pulled your face ever closer, scattering more little pearls along his entryway. 

“Do you…” he panted, lips never leaving yours for more than necessary. “Truly want tea?” He asked.

You smiled as he continued to kiss you breathless. “Tea can wait.” 

He picked you up and hoisted you against him once more, your bottom resting on his forearms as he twirled you around, making you giggle and squeal. 

“Your perfection knows no bounds.” He murmured against your lips as he began to move towards the stairs. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you up the stairs and down the hall, but he hesitated before bringing you into what you guessed was his room. 

“Ah…” he said, a deeper blush working its way into his pale skin. “I forgot about my… well you see…” 

You smiled, pulling him closer to press a peck to his lips. ”What? I can hardly imagine your room is messy, Neuvillette.”

He closed his eyes tight, opening the door to set you down inside. You turned, looking around the room. 

A very large four poster bed was the main focal point of the room, lush sheer curtains hanging from the tall frame, making it seem luxurious and inviting. But the piles of silks, pillows and blankets surrounding the mattress making a large circle in the center was what stood out the most to you. Taking a step closer, you could see there were little things scattered throughout the barrier, the gloves you’d gifted him last month, a few shirts and coats, little trinkets and things here and there. 

Your brow furrowed before you turned to look up at him, finding him looking between you and the bed with a hand covering the lower half of his face. 

“It looks like…” you glanced back at the bed. “It looks like a nest?” 

He breathed, nodding, pinching his temples in embarrassment. “When you were last here, we spoke of some subtle changes I’d been experiencing since gaining my full dragonhood, yes?” 

You nodded, walking towards the bed to run your hands along the fabrics making up the walls of the nest. 

“I’ve been experiencing strange urges, instincts I cannot seem to control no matter how hard I try.” He said lowly, somewhere behind you.

The blanket you ran your hands across was soft, fur of some sort, and it felt so luxurious you wanted to bury your face in it and never leave its soothing embrace. 

“Urges?” You said, feeling a heat pool between your thighs at the thought. 

“Yes.” His voice was suddenly right by your ear, his heat pressing up against your spine. “For example, right now, seeing you next to my bed, admiring my nest— it makes me want to pick you up and place you within it so that I may crawl over top of you to do deplorable, feral and unspeakable things to you.” 

A deep, spine tingling shiver raced through you. You knew the general direction of where this was headed when you begged him to take you to his house, but never in your wildest dreams did you expect Neuvillette to admit something so… dirty… so openly. 

You turned, meeting his eyes with a gasp as you came face to face with a version of your leader you’d never seen. 

He was flushed, panting, his eyes glowing in the moonlight streaming into his dark room. His horns were glowing too, their blue hue radiating behind him as he loomed over you. To anyone else it might’ve been intimidating, but you felt so safe in this moment, so satisfied to know that he wanted you. 

“I…” you wondered how you should phrase this, how to make him understand that you were not put off in the slightest by any of these changes in him. To you, he was still Neuvillette. His draconian quirks made him all the more desirable because it was just another part of him. 

“I’d like to help you satisfy those urges, if you’ll let me.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Very suddenly, he dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at your dress. The act startled you, and you stumbled back, bumping into the walls of fabrics lining his nest.

”I am undeserving,” he whimpers, and your legs nearly give out at how broken he sounds in this moment, looking up at you. “I know not how to pleasure you in the way you are so deserving, I only have these instincts, these feelings pushing me to take.” 

He stumbled forward, almost blindly on his knees as his eyes kept yours locked to him. He pushes his face closer to your core, inhaling deeply against the fabric of your dress, his eyes fluttering back. 

“And you always smell so sweet, it eats at my very soul to not taste you at every moment of every day.” His eyes look like they’re watering, begging and pleading as he keeps talking, keeps sending waves of pleasure to your core with every word spoken. 

“You deserve more than this animal I’ve become, but I cannot help that you undo me. You unravel the very stitching that I have woven over these past five hundred years and the thought terrifies me because—“ he’s panting, chest heaving, hands gripping the crushed velvet of your gown. “Because I want you so completely, so entirely. My want for you consumes my very being.” 

Your heart sings, because how could it not? You didn’t have very much experience with anything like this either— really none at all. And he was worried? He was worried he was too much? Not enough? This man was the sovereign ruler of a nation. The elemental dragon of your land, a primordial being with more power than you could even begin to fathom. 

“Oh, Neuvillette,” you brought a hand to cup his cheek, the very same action you made the last time you were in his home, comforting him. “Will you do something for me?” 

He clutched you closer, pupils nearly consuming his irises. “I would drain the seas if you told me you did not favor the way they glimmer in the sunshine. I would blot out the sun if you told me you did not enjoy the heat on your skin. Anything, my dearest. Anything for you.” 

“Give in to it.” And you swore you could feel the breath catching in his chest. “Take me and give me everything your heart desires, because I am already yours.”

”Truly?” He pleaded, seeming so small below you.

You nodded, speaking softly to him as you ran your fingertips across his cheekbone. “From the moment I entered your office Neuvillette, I’ve been yours.”  

Your world flipped upside down as Neuvillette lunged, tackling you over the wall of his nest and into the bed. 

He kissed you so deeply it stole your breath away, you gasped as he pulled back to mouth across your jaw, nipping at your throat. 

You noticed his teeth had grown sharper during your fervent kissing, but feeling those teeth drag like little daggers against the delicate skin of your throat made you shiver with something like fear— but it was laced with arousal, with anticipation. 

You moaned as he licked and sucked on your neck, and he whimpered above you, clutching your waist as he went. 

“I'm sorry, I’m sorry—“ he said between kisses along your skin. “I can’t control myself, I can't—“ 

You reached up, grabbing his face in your hands, making him look at you. 

“Neuvillette, listen to me.” His eyes fluttered between yours, searching. 

“When I told you I love you, that means I love you without conditions.” You said, leaning up to kiss his lips gently. “Which means I will love you when you are poise and regal, when you are the perfect gentleman, but I will also love you when you are not.”

You could see iridescent blue scales rising into his skin, framing his eyes so beautifully. You could see them form around his throat, and his horns continued to glow. When he told you he was becoming undone, you knew he was serious, but you didn't realize what exactly that would entail. 

He was beautiful. Raw and open and completely yours. 

“I will love you even if you are rough, or crude, or selfish. I will not watch you suffer against your instincts when I so desperately wish to see you dive headfirst into them.” 

The subtlest of tears formed in his eyes, and the rain continued to batter the windows outside, pouring down around you— the perfect symphony to accompany this moment. 

“I love every aspect of you, Neuvillette. Even this. Please,” you whispered, pulling him ever closer to your lips. “Please, just take what you need. Take me.” 

———————————

He does not remember how your dress and petticoat managed to find themselves sprawled across his bedroom floor, or when his gloves and shirt followed, but he does remember the delightful squeak you gave when he tore them from your body. 

You were shy, of course you were— but he was having none of that, gently and selfishly pinning your arms against the bed as his eyes consumed your body, your naked skin. 

You squirmed and whimpered underneath him, and part of Neuvillette worried that you weren’t enjoying yourself— but the closer he came to your lower half the more he realized that the source of that mouthwatering smell was coming from between your legs, and his mouth did indeed water. 

You had told him to let go of his restraint, to give in, but he had the sense to keep part of himself in check, knowing he needed to be somewhat gentle, attentive to your needs. 

What knowledge he did have of this process was from books, and even then, he thinks the last time he read a romance novel was likely over a century ago. 

He knew basic anatomical structures, their functions, but putting it all into practice was another thought entirely. 

Through his lust filled haze of admiring your naked body, he swallowed the drool pooling in his mouth— so barbaric. 

“Tell me,” he panted. “Tell me how to make this pleasurable for you.” 

You were so red, it fluttered down to your chest, and he watched as your breasts heaved with each breath. He wanted to wrap his lips around them, suck on the delicate skin, so he did. 

You whined as he leaned down, and he loved the feeling of your hands mussing up his hair, pulling his golden circlet away and tossing it into the void that had captured the rest of your clothes with a clattering sound. 

“You, ah—” your breaths were heavy. “You have to work me open. So you don’t tear me.” 

He gripped your waist again, licking and sucking gracelessly across your chest, just enjoying the taste of your skin. 

“How?” He asked, tonguing his way down to your navel, slipping his tongue around the skin of your adorable stomach. Your skin tasted like pure relief, calming the aching fever inside of him one motion of his tongue at a time. 

“F-fingers?” You said, looking down at his hands. He looked too, and you both seemed to notice at the same time that his hands weren’t exactly… normal anymore. 

Those pesky scales had wound up coating his hands too, he could feel them aching around his eyes and throat, his nails forming long black claws that dragged the faintest red lines along your perfect skin. 

“Hah— yeah,” you breathed a panicked laugh, making his chest flutter with anxiety. “Maybe no fingers this time.” 

“What about my tongue?” He said, looking between your eyes and the apex of your thighs.  He wanted so desperately to make this good for you, but he couldn't deny that the thought of tasting that delicious smell directly from the source was a more than appetizing idea. 

You groaned, throwing your hands up to cover your flushed face. “You say it so casually, too—“ 

“Would you enjoy it if I used my tongue, darling?” 

He watched your thighs clench the best they could with him between your legs, and your hands started shaking.  

“Yes,” you whimpered, hands still covering your heated face. “Yes please.” 

Your thighs quivered as he shifted down, his nostrils flaring as he came face to face with your covered core. 

There was a small damp spot on the soft cotton covering you, and he brought his nose directly to it, inhaling deep and groaning as you whined. 

He was truly drooling now, and the desire to taste you became too overwhelming for him to wait any longer. 

The cotton was shredded off your body in delicate ribbons in the wake of his claws, but before you could react, his tongue was already swiping over the entire length of you. 

“Oh!” Your back arched sinfully off the bed, your hands gripping into his hair as he swallowed and sucked and licked over you. You tasted like perfection. No water in the world could taste as crisp and pure as you did— like sweet ambrosia, like everything he never knew he needed until now. 

He tongued over your clitoris, and you seemed to like that the most, keening out as he increased the pressure. But you said you needed to be worked open, which meant…

He pressed his tongue lower, circling it around your twitching hole. You jumped, your nails scraping his scalp— making him moan into you. Your fingers flexed around the base of his horns, and his whole body shuddered as he listened to you whine and keen. 

He pressed in then, eyes blowing wide as a warm, tight heat enveloped the tip of his tongue. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further, pulling himself closer to press more of himself inside you.

”Neuvillette!” You gasped out as he pushed in further. Even so, He couldn't help but feel like it wasn’t enough, like you needed more. 

Just as that thought crossed his mind, his tongue seemed to expand, thickening and rolling out into your twitching walls even further. He’d never felt a change like that before, but he kept going, moving and undulating it within your tight heat and savoring the taste of you so deep.

”Holy—“ you screeched, “Oh my Archons!”

A deep, chest rumbling growl reverberated from where Neuvillette was pressed into your core, and even though he knew it wasn’t truly a problem, something inside him did not enjoy hearing those words slip from your precious lips.

But you told him to let go, so he truly did lean into his instincts. 

He pulled his tongue from within you, letting its new length dangle from his mouth a bit before licking up all the slick that had smeared across his face, delighted at the way your eyes popped and your mouth gaped open. 

“There are no pathetic gods here, little one.” He growled, that primal aching welling up in his chest. “Only me.” 

“N-Neuvillette,” you stuttered, hands grabbing at his hair as you tried to pull him between your legs again. “Please—“ 

“Better.” 

He dove back in, using the new length of his tongue to thrust in and out of your dripping hole. He could feel your soft walls relaxing, and a deep, rumbling purr pulled from his chest as you writhed and moaned beneath him. 

Tasting you like this, feeling you move and cry out beneath his hold… it was slowly soothing the ache inside of him that had been tormenting him for months. He could feel himself twitching in his pants, his cock pressing against the confines as it leaked all over the fine material of his pants and briefs. 

In the back of his mind, he was grateful he had enough of a grip on his form to not be sporting one of his more… alarming draconic features, surely that would frighten you far too much to continue. Well, perhaps another time. 

He continued his thrusting, working you open and relishing in the wetness coating his tongue, in the way you cried out his name, your fingertips brushing against his horns as you pulled at his hair. It only served to make him drool more, soaking you even further. 

“Neuvillette—“ you keened as he arched his tongue upwards, feeling your walls clench and quiver around him. He repeated the motion, making you slap your hands down to the bed beside you, grasping at the sheets as your eyes popped wide. 

He continued to press against the spot that seemed to make you fall deeper into your pleasure, his eyes never leaving your face as he thrust his tongue with vigor, watching as you quivered. 

Yes, something inside him purred, watching you lose yourself. Keep going, take it from her. 

He felt the moment your walls tightened so completely that he thought something might be wrong— only to watch as your face shattered into a broken sob of pure delight, your whole body twitching as you cried out. Your thighs tried to clamp around his head, but he pressed further, working you through it with his writhing tongue. 

After a few moments of him working you through the height of your pleasure, you grasped at his hair again, only now you were pushing him back, gasping as your body violently twitched. 

“Too much—“ you squeaked. “T-too much!” 

He pulled back from you, licking your remaining juices from his lips as he watched you regain your breath. 

You threw an arm over your eyes, your every breath heaving in your chest as parts of your body twitched in the aftershocks. 

He crawled over your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he purred and murmured against your skin to comfort you.

”Your taste is divine,” he whispered. “Better than I ever could have dreamed, and my dreams were always drenched in your image.” 

“I—“ you sighed, finally pulling air into your chest unlabored. “I dream of you too.” 

“Oh?” He purred, smiling against your skin as he ran his hands down your arms. “And what exactly do you dream of, dearest?” 

You smiled, staring up at the ceiling and avoiding his gaze with flushed cheeks. 

“Your eyes.” You whispered, glancing down at him. “I dream of the way you look at me.” 

———————

You knew this was going to be a lot. 

Neuvillette is not a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but you always figured he would at least be a reasonable size — whatever that may be. 

Clearly your expectations were a little on the small side, because when he unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down and off his body, exposing his naked skin in all its glory, your eyes ached with how wide they were staring openly at the apex of his creamy white thighs. 

Flushed a ruddy purplish red at the tip, it was literally leaking as he knelt between your spread legs. It twitched—he must’ve noticed your staring, and you chewed on your bottom lip, wondering how in all the abyss you were supposed to fit that thing inside of you. 

Neuvillette was panting. He looked irrevocably desperate, like he was ready to burst at the seams at any moment. 

“Neuvillette,” you whimpered, spreading your thighs further for him. 

He hadn’t touched you since he took his pants off, just staring down at you as you drank him in, watching your reactions. 

“Are…” he seemed strained, like the words themselves pained him. “Are you sure?” 

“Please,” you whined. “Please, inside me, I want you inside.”

He seemed to bite back a groan, eyes roaming over your soaked core, your blush traveling down your chest. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

It was delicate, loving, nothing like the unrestrained devouring before, but it still seemed like he was holding himself back. A beautiful bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. 

“Neuvillette,” you murmured against his lips. “Please, I want it. I trust you, I want you, please.” 

Your pleading seemed to stir him, and you could feel the hot press of his length against your aching hole. You didn't know what it would feel like, the anticipation making you tense up and hold your breath. 

“Breathe, my love.” Neuvillette said, though he himself was shaking as his hands held him up above you. “Relax, breathe.” 

You released a breath and the tension from your spine, melting into the pillows as he chose that moment to breach your entrance, the slick pooling out of you allowing him to slide the crown in with no resistance. 

You keened, your back arching as you felt the first push. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!”

Neuvillette was still shaking, his voice quivering and yet he still found it within himself to chuckle, low and deep as his eyes fluttered across your face, drinking in your pleasured reactions. 

“Such vulgar language,” he breathed. “Where’d my polite little assistant go?” 

You swear your eyes were about to bulge out of your skull as he pushed another inch in, slowly, his body vibrating above you in restraint. 

It wasn’t hurting, but the stretch was so intense it was turning your brain into mush. You never swear in front of Neuvillette, gods, you never curse in front of anyone but Wriothesley, but your brain seems to short circuit as Neuvillette enters your body one delicious inch at a time.

You were thankful you told him to stretch you out, thankful for that gods forsaken tongue that just came out of nowhere, long and thick and surprisingly serpentine.  

“P-politeness isn’t really…” you tossed your head back in the blankets as he sunk in further. “Isn’t really my main focus… r-right now.” 

“Ah, yes.” Neuvillettes words spoke confidence, but his voice was shaking, his arms vibrating as they held him above you. “We have more pressing things to focus on at the moment, don’t we?”

You groaned, half in embarrassment at his wordplay and half at the way he pulled out a bit just to press back in further. 

He just licked up the column of your throat, that ridiculously long tongue making your whole body shiver in delight as he pressed in further. 

“Holy f—“ you grabbed his forearms, leaning up the best you could to look down at where your bodies were connected. “How much more is there? It’s so… so…”

Your stomach flipped at how much you still had to go, how little your brain could comprehend that this weapon was supposed to fit inside you. 

“Do you need me to stop, my darling? Is it too much for you?” Neuvillette breathed against your neck. His words spoke one thing, but it was like his body was screaming for you to say anything but. 

“No!” You panicked a bit, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him against your lips, kissing him filthy. “Please, don’t stop.” 

It took a couple more minutes of gentle thrusting, the rough texture of this thumb swirling against your throbbing clit and some very messy kisses, but when his hips finally pushed flush against yours, your eyes rolled back in your head, mind finally vacating all thought in favor focusing on how blindingly full you felt. 

“Oh,” Neuvillette breathed. “—My darling. My sweet, sweet girl.” His hips were frozen, probably taking in how you clenched around him, because you could feel it— the way your walls fluttered and squeezed around his length as he remained motionless. 

He twitched, and you keened, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring his face level with yours, panting into his mouth. “Please,” you whined. “Please move.” 

He shuddered before hesitantly bringing his hips back, watching your every breath as he pressed forward again. 

The deep, guttural moan it pulled from your chest must have flipped some kind of switch within him, because all sense of hesitancy seemed to drain from his body as his hips began a desperate rhythm, smacking against yours. 

“Ah!” Your back arched, eyes rolling into your skull as he finally, finally fucked you. “Neuvi— Neuvillette!”

His eyes seemed glazed over with emotions, looking down at you with so much wonder. His expression was strained, breaths coming short as his hands snaked down to your hips, leaning back up and away from your grip.

The change in angle, though minuscule, drastically altered the way his cock pummeled your insides. It was intense before, your mind was nearly floating in the clouds— but now his cock bullied itself along your most sensitive spot and pressed so deep within you, you were sure you could nearly taste it.

”Perfect,” he breathed. “My perfect, perfect girl. So warm and tight— it's like you were made to take me.” 

Your brain had exited the atmosphere, and was now drifting away into the deep nothingness of space. You swore you could feel your orgasm welling in the pit of your core, making your legs shake where they were perched on Neuvillettes hips. 

“It— it feels so good,” your words were starting to slur, your vision hazy with unshed tears of pure ecstasy as you blinked up at him. “I n-never— I never wanna stop. I want this forever.” 

His hips never faltered, not even once as he shuddered and groaned, the sound making you clench down around him even more. His hands gripped your waist tighter, the black claws digging into your skin, sure to leave marks. 

A possessive sort of noise rumbled from his chest, his eyes flaring with need. 

“I’ll give you all of myself until the end of time,” he murmurs, voice full of deep, rasping need. “Tell me you’re mine, I’ll give you everything.” 

Your heart welled, your eyes blinking tears as your legs shook harder. 

“I’m yours,” you cried. “I love you, Neuvillette. I’m yours.” 

He pushed at your legs, hands grabbing your thighs to press them up and forward, nearly folding you in half as you sobbed out in pleasure. Your body ached, your orgasm now on the very precipice as he managed to fuck into you even deeper than before, and you didnt know how it was possible. 

“Again.” He growled. 

“I’m yours!” You keened. 

His hands pressed harder into your thighs, his face leaning closer to yours. Through your haze, you could see how his pupils were blown wide, consuming all of his otherworldly irises. You could see how deeply he looked at you, drinking in your trembling form. 

“Mine.” He whispered. 

And that was all it took for the fraying cord inside you to snap. 

You screamed into the darkness of his room, writhing and shaking as it pulsed through you, all consuming and more intense than anything you’d ever felt in your life. He gasped, muttering something in a language you didn't recognize as his hips stuttered. He pushed you through it, the mind melting pleasure pulsing out into your limbs, making you go limp into the bed. 

His eyes were wild, and his pace slowed, hands holding onto you like you would slip away if he didn’t. 

“My love,” he moaned, desperate as the fluttering aftershocks worked through you, your body twitching in the sensitive overstimulation. “My love, I want to— I need—“

“Inside me,” your voice cracked, hoarse from how loud you’d been in your revelry, but it only seemed to spur him on. “Please, inside me.” 

And within the last three stuttering strokes, he was gone, his forehead pressing into yours as he leaned forward and moaned, long and wrecked and obscene. It made you flutter around him, milking him absolutely dry as he filled and filled and filled you. 

You could feel it, hot and heavy— each jerk of him inside you coating you further, marking you in white, in the deepest places as his. 

He was mumbling, his face moving to press into the curve of your neck and shoulder. Dazed, you couldn’t tell what he was saying— whether he was speaking in another language or if you were just too out of it to register his words. 

You lifted an arm to rest on his back, feeling the heat and the sweat of him. Unfazed, you drag your hand up and down his shoulder blades, relishing in the feeling of his skin, his breath as he murmurs against your neck. 

As your breath finally steadied in your lungs, no longer struggling, you ran your hands through his long, luscious hair, fingertips ghosting his horns. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said aloud, clear and in a language you understood. “I’m sorry.”

”What for?” You smiled, trying to get him to look at you. When you finally pried him from the crook of your shoulder, your heart skipped a beat at how flushed he still was, how guilty he looked. 

It was then that you realized he was still inside you, still hard as before, twitching and throbbing as he held himself above you. 

“You begged me to take you,” he breathed, clawed hands pulling at the sheets. “And I can’t help but crave more.”

————————————

The sun had just begun rising over the dewy cypress trees by the time Neuvillette sat in the warm bath, cradling you in his arms. 

You twitched and groaned in displeasure as he ran the washcloth along your heated skin, but he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride at the marks scattered along your body. 

He’d been too afraid to hurt you, but after the moan you let out when his teeth accidentally scraped across your collarbone during the second round, (or was it the third?) he’d lost all sense of decency. You seemed to like them as well, and you certainly liked when he ran his tongue across the red and purple splotches to soothe them. So, c’est la vie. 

Your head lolled against his shoulder, you were barely conscious at this point, and he wanted to feel guilty, he really did. But you’d begged and begged and begged for him to take what he needed, how could he refuse? 

He pulled the glass bottle he’d brought from the cooler to your lips, stirring you a bit to prompt you to drink. 

“Please, my love. You need to rehydrate.” He smiled at the way you pouted, But opened your lips to take tentative sips anyways, your eyes still closed. 

He watched a trail of water slip past your lax lips and run down your chin and throat, his eyes carefully following the movement. He swallowed deeply, willing away the erection that was still threatening the dark corners of his willpower. 

He could honestly keep going, he couldn't get enough of you, but you were still so fragile, so incredibly mortal. He knew that he had to stop, give you a moment of reprieve. Force himself to behave until your sweet voice would sing to him again, begging him for more. He licked his lips at the thought. 

“Are… are your urges… satisfied?” You mumbled as he pulled the bottle away. You cuddled up to him, so sleepy. 

He thought very carefully on how to reply to you. 

“For now, yes. They are, darling.” He finally said. “But I believe I will always desire you as strongly as I did then— as I do now, still.”

You gave a sleepy smirk, your eyes still closed as you snuggled closer to him, your bare skin pressed so beautifully against his. 

This— this was perfect. He didn't think anything else could compare to the feeling of being inside you, so connected to your body and in tune with your emotions. But this… being with you, holding you and caring for you… it was just as beautiful. His heart felt full, and for the first time in months, he didn’t feel restless.

“I meant what I said, you know.” He said, kissing the top of your head. 

You sighed wistfully. “Which part? Because when you said you were going to ‘spend the rest of your existence finding new ways to make me shatter into millions of delicious little pieces,’ I was rather inclined to believe you.” 

He felt his cheeks heat a little. “Ah, well. I meant all of that too. But I’m referring to something I said earlier on in the evening.”   

Your voice was wavering, and he could see sleep pulling at you, tugging you into its embrace one sleepy blink at a time. “Which part, my love?” 

His chest still fluttered at those words, despite both of your endless proclamations of devotion and love last night, he was still so blissful at the prospect of being yours, of you being his. His love. 

“The bit where I told you that I would give you all of me until the end of time. That I’ll give you everything.” 

“Mm,” you said, eyes closed and words loose. “I know.” 

He ran his hands along your back, his skin finally calmed down closer to the end of the night, his scales and claws retracting and freeing his fingers for nefarious purposes. But now, he was enjoying feeling your smooth skin against his own. 

“I have things I must do, duties to this realm beyond that of my role as Iudex. It will be a long and perilous road, a road uneasy for myself and those I love. But in this, as in every other aspect of my life— I feel as though if you stood beside me, it would lighten the burden. You make every part of my life better, and I would be honored to have you beside me for the rest of time.” 

He wasn’t sure how, but if he could free the people of Fontaine from their curse, surely he could find a way to keep you with him, if you so wished. 

“Your voice is pretty,” you sighed. “I love you,” you were mumbling, and he realized you were already rather deep in the clutches of sleep, likely not even hearing a word he’d said. 

He smiled, breathing out a sigh as he kissed the top of your head once more. 

“Sleep well, my darling.” 

La Fin.

—————————————————————

Authors Note: remember to drop a comment with your thoughts! I love you guys so much 🖤

[funlovinzara]

Sukuna x reader “Your boring…and basic.”

Warnings: sukuna is very degrading, angst, threats

Your Yuji’s girlfriend, you stayed over at his dorm in jujutsu high because you didn’t feel good and he insisted you stay to rest..you’re a bit scared about your safety.

A/n: Im still sick while writing but i feel a-lot better today so i might as-well get something out for the time being💥

—————————————————————

It felt like you just got hit by 10 trucks. You don’t know why Yuji insisted on letting you stay in his dorm, he was only gonna get sick too. But you were really comfortable in his bed, it was really pillowy, soft and a bit bouncy which made you fall asleep nearly 3 times.

But you didn’t want to sleep yet, you wanted to wait until Yuji came back at least. You haven’t gotten to see him all day and you really missed him, but at the same time if he were to return by now and you were still awake he would scold you by saying “Sleep is the most important part of recovering during a sickness!! Go to bed!!” I mean you didn’t really care though, as long as he came home safe.

This was almost your 4th time falling asleep until you hear the door swing open, you turn on the other side of your chest to see Yuji finally walk in.

“Yujiii…..” you slur trying to say his name but it comes out in a groggy, sickend voice.

“Hey…im gonna go shower. Im tired.”

He shuts the door violently, the dorm room shaking in response. Thats odd. Well maybe he probably had a bad day is all, but that was still weird with the very short greeting. Oh well, He’s back safe. You and Yuji have been together for a while now, he was the one who confessed first but you needed a LONG time to think about it. Why? Because of Sukuna duh!

If Sukuna came out ANY time while you two were together its gg’s for you, thats why it was so hard to date him. Besides Sukuna you loved Yuji a-lot but with that curse basically bound to him for life it’s scary. Well hey, bonus points for Sukuna being attractive but those measly points don’t add up to the other tall rack of points of him killing you. Why did you even give in? Because love is a sick thing.

You love Yuji so much you dated him anyway regardless of the fact that a deadly, unmerciful curse was latched to him at all times watching you from place to place, hour to hour, minute by minute. Snapping back into reality, your were completely zoned out while Yuji was showering. You heard the water turn off and you decided to turn back on your other side not facing him.

You hear the door open and footsteps walk throughout the dorm room, was he looking for something? Ah right, earlier that day you did fold his clothes and put them somewhere else for the time being.

“If you need your clothes there in the little cabinet…”

“Thats not what i need brat.”

You froze. Your heart beating quicker…and quicker…Oh my gosh.

Please, please please tell me this is just a prank he set up with his friends. It’s just a joke…it’s just a joke..

You’ll be fine! You’ll be fine. Your mind is racing with possible outcomes, are you going to die?? What do you do what do you do.

Very slowly, you turn onto your other side again and land your eyes on Sukuna who was digging through Yuji’s bag, with only a towel on his waist. He looks up at you and you flinch.

“Do you have a staring problem human? Your in your weakest state, i could kill you right now.”

The air in the room gets thicker and tense, you don’t know what to say. The pressure is too much to bear..

“Sorry.” Was the only word you could push out, he was right. Maybe if you were fully recovered you could be able to put up a fight. But not for long anyway…Sukuna is strong. You take your eyes off of the curse and look into a corner of the room, but from the corner of your eye you can see Sukuna walking towards you. He examines you, your face, your eyes, and your nose, that is drooping extremely because you’re too scared to move and wipe it.

“Pathetic.”

You’re on the verge of pissing yourself, this was the most scariest encounter of your entire life.

“This is what this Yuji brat is into? I can tell you’re so so weak. I can crush this boy’s dream and end you.”

He grabs you by the neck, it was already hard to breathe because of your nose. So all you could rely on was your mouth but your throat was getting clogged more and more by his hand. He lifts you up to look at you even closer, handling you like a rag doll.

You were choking and struggling to breathe, you could feel death pulling on your leg. That is until he lets you go, your body flopping on the bed hardly moving because of how sore you feel.

“I find absolutley no pleasure in killing you, at least not today.”

What the heck does he mean by that-

“But, I’ve never seen you try your hardest. I will test you, i wanna see if you’re as good as this Itadori boy says. If not, you deserve to die. Your boring…and basic.”

“You wench.” He spat at you before collapsing onto the bed. That…really hurt. Psychically and mentally. Tears slowly fall before you quickly stop them, you back yourself away from Yuji’s body, scared to see what will happen.

“Y/n…Y/n???”

He regains his humanity and looks up you seeing your frightened form. “Im sorry for what just happened i was too tired and i couldn’t control him-.”

“Yuji.”

“Yes..?”

“We should break up.”

———————————————

Umm i have a love hate relationship with sukuna💥💥💥

[sixosix]

( a/n ) light angst, hurt/comfort, PROFANITY WARNING, guys im so sorry this is so short but its all im capable of rn

special mention TYSM @earthtooz for proofreading i owe u my soul

he’s always been a little sensitive to people caring for him. he’s used to taking care of others, to have his parents let him get away with everything, and he’s spent his life isolating himself from people who would see him past what he is but for who he is.

reo rolls his shoulder to shove your hand off of him, frowning at the wall. “you know me well enough already, don’t you? you know that i hate it when you get like this.”

“this isn’t good for you, reo. you’re destroying yourself,” you snarl, jabbing at his back. “i’m sick of seeing you like this. i’m not a babysitter, nor your therapist.”

“i’m not asking you to worry about me, am i?” he snaps, finally turning to meet your eyes.

anger boils in your chest, but you let it simmer with a few deep breaths. reo isn’t thinking properly right now, raving on and on about not working hard enough, and how he isn’t catching up. “there isn’t a professional boundary between us, i care for you because i love you. right now, when you say shit like that? i can barely give a fuck about you anymore.”

reo’s sharp scowl falters around the edges, giving way to confusion. “where are you going?” he demands when you make your way to the door.

“away,” you say, slipping your shoes on and refusing to look at him. “you said you need space, right? then i’ll give it to you. we’re over.”

“fine.” his tone is biting, but his voice sounds strange. “fine…”

he’s still lethargic, you tell yourself; he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and he’ll regret it later. but he doesn’t stop you.

maybe if you were to glance back at him one last time, you’d see the broken expression on his face hitting him right after.

from the start, reo’s always been expecting you would leave him. everyone does that to him, anyway. even nagi, who he still considers his best friend. it was a little too good to be true with you, so he tells himself that this was bound to happen. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when it finally happens.

reo groans, shoving his face into his pillow. his friends snicker at his misery, so reo does what he needs to and flips them off with two hands. but as a groveling man with his face hidden by his sheets, it does not paint the intimidating picture he wanted.

“it hasn’t even been that long,” nagi remarks. he doesn’t spare reo a glance so unfortunately, he doesn’t get see reo flashing him with his middle finger.

“mmrgh,” reo says, still pressed against his bed.

isagi pats him on the shoulder, which doesn’t help anyone, but it’s the thought that counts.

“record him, record him, do it,” bachira says, clapping nagi on the back repeatedly, his strength enough to jostle him back and forth. obediently, nagi follows, pointing his phone camera right at a moping reo.

“day two without y/n,” nagi says to his future audience. “barely holding on.”

“i feel awful,” reo groans. “y/n blocked me.”

“do you regret what you said?” isagi asks.

“‘course i do,” reo hisses, offended that he would even ask that. “i was an asshole. y/n was right—y/n’s always right. i’m stupid.”

bachira snorts, “keep fighting, reo!” and barely manages to dodge the pillow thrown his way.

the camera pans back to reo, who’s looking red in the face, awfully pathetic. “fuck off. don’t post that. y/n’s gonna see it and make fun of me when we’re back again.”

nagi posts it anyway.

chigiri hums thoughtfully, waving a hand in front of your face. “you don’t look like you moved on to me.”

you splutter, shoving his phone back onto him. you feel your heart pound in your ears and with the way chigiri smiles knowingly, you almost wonder if he can hear it, too. “shut up! why did he say that? i hate him.”

“sure you do. say what?”

“‘when we’re back together again’ like he’s so sure about it,” you try to say it like you’re angry, but your expression resembles reo from that video. it doesn’t come out as you want it.

reo looks much better now. nagi says that reo religiously followed your advice right after and has been faring better, which is a real shame since you can’t even see it for yourself. he looks less pale and much brighter, but instead of the anger you last saw him with, he’s just become a carbon copy of a wet blanket.

“aren’t you?” chigiri watches the post again, just to torment you with your sniveling ex. “getting back together again, i mean.”

“i’m leaving.”

“yeah? and go where? reo’s bed?”

“i’ll strangle you!”

[ivestas]

Hello. I saw your post and would you be up for doing a bit on a reader who cares little about themselves but cares deeply for the team?

love deterrence

Summary: You care about the 141 more than yourself to a worrisome degree. 

Tags: platonic!141 x soldier!fem!reader, mentally ill reader (implied), headcanon format, reader implied to be young, unedited

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: ANON... THE MOMENT I SAW THIS I DROPPED EVERYTHING. the requests I get r always top tier, BUT THIS IS S +. also my bad for this being price/soap/ghost-centric, theyre the characters im most confident in writing---and, also also, SEND REQUESTS. you guys are so slay w reqs its actually insane

You were a soldier—a good one at that. 

Thorough in your assignments, fearless on the field, and reliable. Truly, it’s something any enlister would seek out. 

That was Price’s initial thoughts—everyone else’s, really. You liked to get shit done and you were determined to always, always see through a mission’s completion. 

It was a trait that, at first, wasn’t noticeable, but it intensified the longer you stayed with the 141. 

Many things increased the longer you were with them: you went from formal to friendly, quiet to outspoken, frigid to warm... you grew comfortable. They each took notice in their own way—with Soap being the one to constantly reciprocate and encourage in his own way; despite his loud character, he was subtle in pushing you out of your bubble.

Even Ghost encouraged you... in his own way. 

“You look like you wanna say something, spit it out, kid.” 

It was hard not to warm up to them, and vice versa; the team was as tightly knit as they come, and you could confidently say that you’d trust your life in their hands...

...but, you’d much rather they worry about you last.

And that was when Ghost was the first to notice your recklessness on the field when it came to them; the moment you heard one of them was in danger, you’d be quick to finish the area in such a careless manner and rush to them—and many, many times he’d berate you about it. 

“Kid, when I tell you to stay put, you stay put.”

“But—“

“No fuckin’ ‘buts’, you shut up and listen, understand?!” 

“...yes sir.” 

But you always disobeyed. At one point, Ghost demanded Price to put you on temporary leave because of how worrisome it was getting—you’d listen to every single order and follow through in quick succession, but the moment it came to your safety, you just..?

And that’s when it clicked to Ghost: you didn’t care. It was their lives over yours, and something about that just pissed him off. 

(Maybe it was because he understood the feeling, and he hated knowing that you felt it too. You were young, you shouldn’t feel that way—not now, not ever.)

Price would catch on later around the same time Soap did—although the two certainly weren’t dumb, it’s just the mere fact that they didn’t understand the way Ghost did—they’ve had their mental pitfalls, but not the abject depression that pushes one to feel so little about themselves. 

They’d find out much later—you’ve become sneakier in protecting them, something that Ghost still catches from time to time but can’t butt in since you were so damn clever with it—and it was when an enemy tossed a bomb in your and Soap’s direction that your nature dawned on him. 

You were quick to toss the bomb back, and not only did you do that, but you shielded him from the blast by throwing yourself onto him despite the fact you were smaller than he. 

Luckily, the blast didn’t harm you, only leaving you with a few scrapes and ringing ears. 

But, the moment he got back up on his feet, you were fretting.

“You okay, Soap? You’re not hurt, are you—?!” 

“Lass, worry about yourself, I’m fine!” 

“Are you sure?” 

It was like talking to a brick wall: terribly frustrating.

Price, having been a few feet away and had shielded from the blast, saw the spectacle and almost laughed. 

It was ridiculous to him—you threw yourself, but you’re worrying about the muscle-bound soldier? 

He didn’t like soldiers who tried to play hero—especially soldiers who were hardly grown. Especially soldiers who seemed to lack care for themselves.

So, Price would start sneaking in sentiments of care: complimenting you outside the field, (”You made that, sergeant? Great job, it looks wonderful.”) trying to hear you communicate your own interests, things about you. 

Soap already does that, and Ghost soon follows too, though slowly. He wasn’t good at praising—his compliments were always so awkward, no better than his fucked up jokes that he cracked at the worst times. 

Price always made sure to give you the best cots, Ghost would give you a portion of his food because...

“I’m watching my weight.”

“What?” 

“You heard me, sergeant. I’m watching my weight.” 

“...you’re literally a soldier—“

“Just eat the food kid, don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Soap was the only direct one—the other two didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you, but Soap was, well... Soap. 

“Look, kid, lass, you need to start lookin’ out for yerself.” 

“I am already, don’t worry—“

“You stood in front of Price when you thought there was an enemy sniper.” 

“He’s the captain! I gotta protect him!” 

“You could’ve just told him—listen, I don’t like using threats, that’s the L.T’s thing, not mine, but if you continue to treat your arse like a meatshield, I’m gonna make sure you’re put on leave again, okay?” 

It becomes a struggle after that: you felt overwhelming guilt for feeling guilt, for being ‘selfish’, or feeling guilty for taking risky actions in order to protect them because you know they’ll feel bad. 

It’s a perpetual struggle that you didn’t know what to do about, and it’s at the worst time you broke down. 

You and Ghost were cleaning up the mess hall since Soap won a bet against him, and when you picked up an extra plate more than Ghost, you began overthinking.

Was this gonna piss off Ghost? Were you going to make him feel bad? Were you doing this for yourself or for him? Why did you do that—should you give him the plate? What should you do? What’s the right thing?

As much as the guys tried to ease your mind, I think they did the opposite: and, at that moment, you couldn’t stop the tears.

That made you even guiltier, especially when Ghost noticed. 

But, all he said was “talk.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, and with that allowance, you spoke. 

It was incoherent: a babbling mess of “sorrys” and admissions of guilt for shit he didn’t even know one could feel guilty for—you shook, moments would jump where you would collect yourself for a few seconds before bursting once more. 

Taking the dishes from your hands, he set them back on the table and engulfed you in an awkward but strong hug. He didn’t trust himself to say anything right, but he hoped—prayed—that you knew the sentiments. 

And you did—you reciprocated immediately, burying your face into his bulletproof vest; heaving, shaking, breaking. 

He was then at a crossroads: you were unstable. Guilt like that—this faux selflessness that was really something more tragic—it only leads to one thing, a thing he couldn’t bring himself to name. 

So, the same night when he was sure you were asleep, he went straight to Price. 

“Sir.” 

“Yes, Ghost?” 

“The kid—she can’t stay. She needs to see a professional.” 

Price sighed. “You don’t think I’m tryin’? Been trying to reach a psychologist—therapist—whomever. Laswell’s said she’s workin’ on it, so we’ll see.”

“But she can’t stay, this type of job, it’s not good for her mind.” 

“That’s up to her. You can’t just kick someone out—it’s ain’t that simple.” 

Ghost opened his mouth, ready to spit back, but Price cut in, stern. “It’s up to her. I’ll make sure she sees a professional at least bi-weekly, but you can’t force a leave on her.” 

Ghost settled with that, though not completely satisfied. 

When you eventually do see a professional, you get a little better—you recognize the patterns, the triggers, the reasons. It’s easier to dissemble the mess that your mind is and just understand. 

Although you’re a little more careful now, more thoughtful about your own body, there’s always a level of protection you place on them that they know is irremovable: it’s care. 

And they reflect that care right back at you, both in and out of the field. 

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[divinelolita]

GOOD MORNINGGGG(istg if you dont reply to those tiktoks imma-)

ANYWAY i woke up and had an idea for u cuz im so smart and imma give it to you

so lemme get theeee mcflurry and a big mac(full band headcannons) with a bf who just be maddddd clingy and they love it like all the time but thing is if someone does it a lot then they bound to need space and they thought if they told reader to stop he finna be sad

BUT sooner or mf they yell(not yell yell) for reader to stop for just a god damn minute and readers just like "ok🤷🏾" AND WALKS AWAY AND DOESNT HUG OR KISS THEM FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK(hell even two)💀💀💀💀like they will sit next to bro and he doesn't even lean on them😭🤚🏾

like he aint mad or nothin he just took it really literally😭

add anything you want like duhhh

BAND X CLINGY READER

teehee hii😈 you send me like 10 tiktoks in under a minute bro

BILL:

・He genuinely does love when your clingy

・Bro is clingy asf himself oml-

・Yet everybody needs alone time to themselves, and eventually he would just feel the need to be alone

・He really didn't want to hurt your feelings, he knew this was your way of showing your love, but he would eventually get overwhelmed.

・At first he'd try giving you small hints, like when he would say he wanted to go out for a walk. Yet everytime you wanted to come along and he didn't have the willpower to ask to go alone.

・He puts up with it for a little longer before he reaches a breaking point.

"M/N! Please just leave me alone for a second holy fuck-"

"Oh, okay."

・He'd feel relieved you weren't mad at him

・Yet after a day- hell maybe even a few hours- he's craving that touch again.

・Like sitting next to you on the couch just waiting for you to hold his hand or cuddle him VKYXWUHWVEE

・You took u alot of his time so now that you didn't hang out with him as much he felt surprisingly lonley.

TOM:

・Less patient than Bill.

・Babe he loves your touch, kissing you and holding you and snuggling you and-

・He won't admit it but he's actually quite clingy too.

・He really loves his alone time though, especially if its spent playing his guitar. He just likes to be alone to relax his mind

・Gives you a few subtle warnings, telling you he "has to clear his mind" and "needs to relax"

・Yet you would still cling to his shoulders like a koala. He loved you soso much and didn't want to hurt your feelings but he felt almost suffocated.

・Telling you he's going somewhere only for you to say "Ah, where are you going? Can I come too?"

"Can I go anywhere without you following me?!"

・lol ok

・You shrugged and walked away from him, he wanted to tell out your name and call you back but he also wanted time to himself

・Feels anxious when you don't hug or kiss him like you used to, he's afraid you'll break up with him or something.

GEORG:

・He'd get overwhemles pretty quickly

・No no, don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves hugging you. But sometimes he would rather hangout and talk instead of snuggling for hours.

・So if you ask to go out with him somewhere he doesn't care at all at first, actually encouraging you to come along with him.

・But, like Tom, he loves to be alone.

・It's just comforting for him to be in a quiet area with nobody else.

・Bro gives no warnings, just flat out says "Can you not touch me right now..?"

"My bad."

・He's happy you understand him and don't just yell at him. He's happy you respect his boundaries

・He finds himself missing your touch, how you would kiss him all over his cheeks and lips or how you would play with his hair when yo would cuddle.

・HE THINKS YOUR MAD AT HIMMMMMMMM

・He's kinda scared to ask you to start giving him attention again

・You seem fine so...shouldnt he feel fine too?

(he doesn't)

GUSTAV:

・KJHBECJJLEFCBLUIEHRCLKUWEBDCLJHWEDCMKWEDCBMJDCMJWEDBM

・He absolutely loves your affection, doesn't care if he's doing something he will stop and hold you if that's what you want.

・He just feels so safe and happy in your armssss

・Sometimes he just needs a little break, like maybe a few hours or a day to himself.

・He always feels bad about this though, he loves you more than anything and doesn't wanna push you away.

・He'd give so many hints because he doesn't wanna hurt your feelings omfg

・Eventually just tells you flat out, even though his heart is pounding.

"I just need to be alone, M/N!" "That's fine."

・He doesn't know whether to be confused or relieved, he's a mix of both.

・He misses your affection so bad wtf...

・Just wants to pick you up and cuddle while watching a movie, but he's waiting for you to make a move but you want to respect him and-

・its very confusing.

[rin-and-jade]

Job Roulette.. or Not: A Post about Alter Roles

Roles like Hosts? Protectors?.. maybe a Cleaner? an Academic?.. why is there an alter who comes out only for driving?! What about these other alters who don't really do much--they got to have one right??

--Are probably what you might be thinking when this topic comes up. But, there's something more into it,, it's not all about what job or how the role is assigned to an alter only.

Well, for this post, lets talk EVERYTHING about how roles work, what kinds exist, why it's there?? And especially, why are some more task specific, multi-role, or even... none? Bowl straight to the point, let's roll out. Haha punny

Ok J, spill. What are they?

Hold on. Im pulling out this dictionary definition of it--ah!

"defined positions that are associated with given responsibilities and are usually allocated according to the position or ability of each person."

To put it in system terms, it's how different parts can do something that others couldn't, or, feel a sense of responsibility in one particular aspect. That's making sense right? But oh.. you still want to know why they're there at the first place. Fine, follow me!

Yeah, show me why!

As aforementioned, this disorder boxes up our different parts of selves with amnesia and weaker bonds of connection which really sets us back on easing our 'modes' for different situations.. not only that, a part's moods and state/personality can greatly affect what kinds of jobs they get, it's not so random as you'd thought.

So, thing is, because some alters have a distinguished ability capable in doing something, depending what fragment or pre-existing knowledge/experience it holds, that can become it's very own job task.

They can be hereditary (upon split or formed), gained (fuse or passed traits), or even learnt (by its own commitment, without any prior skills). Roles come from many origins, and none of them are so different.

But, some are more complex..

I get it, some can have more than one, have ultra specific ones, or literally just don't have any. Now it makes you think--if it was from predisposed strengths each alters naturally have, then why are some more niche? or like, anything else? I know why:

Our brains are complex alright. We both can think maybe we can do (even if we don't like it) and not do something, and these are all compartmentalized in each alters, so basically its part feelings, part acceptance of such trait, and part commitment as the formula. Even confidence or the call to action affects this outcome!

This can apply to who can handle more than one jobs, or for those who are more specific or lesser known roles. In fact, roles do not have any limits, they are specifically tailored for your functionality so don't fret if you have an alter who's job is only to sleep, or anything else 'silly' !

What about the ones without.. roles?

Do you think it feels wrong to not have roles? While it is true that roles are needed, they're not actually a required standard for everyone to have a job task. Mainly, ANP's are the one who usually have roles, but EP's can too.

If they do not have a role, they might be disinterested or think they don't have any potential, or sometimes they're only there to hold memories / don't have the qualified skill sets, and thats okay! You can take proactive action in anyhow you'd like, just remember, every parts aren't forced to contribute, you know? It doesn't make them useless, maybe more on passive support/back ups.

I've also seen some systems who don't really have roles because the alters are all well-rounded, as in pick up other's tasks and that they're not assigned/compelled to do a particular job at all times, like being flexible. everyone's different!

Make sense, anything else?

Well, that we are not bound to roles, they do not define us, and that we can lose, or change roles according to our growth. Have anyone ever mentioned that?

Im aware that we tend to put too much emphasis on having jobs and being contributive, but the most important thing to keep in mind is that we all in this together, and to help each other, in a way or another.

Never forget that you're more than your job! Maybe try to enjoy other parts of life, yeah?

--

Thats the end of the post. What will you do if you find a new alter with no impressions of having a role? How do you see roles in your own pov? What's the first thing you'd do if you were to be free from your job task, if any? Feel free to let me know, i hope this has been informative, im willing to add anything if something's missing!

- j

[scoobydoodean]

i know it's compelling in fics for cas to feel betrayed about the jack in the ma'lak box decision but its So weird bc its obvious the moment jack breaks out of it hes like. oh man jack might need to be restrained at least until we can figure out a plan. like his first thought before jack breaks out is "this was cruel of them to do" and then hes like. oh fuck jack might be a threat actually.

like castiel is a complicated character hes on jack's side but by the time god suggests killing jack hes done a full 180 on it.

and when people are like "aiming the gun at jack is just as bad as shooting him" im even more confused bc like. dean aimed a gun at emma and didnt shoot her, even with the safety off. dean aimed a gun at SAM while under mind control/anger spell (talking about southern comfort iirc) and didnt shoot him. dean aimed a blade at cas and didnt stab him. like. its fine for cas to be upset at the god gun thing but its so weird when people act as if cas didnt basically admit jack needs to be stopped/bound next episode.

Cas should have been consulted and had a right to be angry that he wasn't included in the decision. At the same time, part of the reason the whole dead mom incident leading up to this happened is that Cas—yet again—kept something from everyone else so he could make unilateral decisions behind all their backs, so I'm not particularly sympathetic to his frustrations with being excluded.

I also just don't think it was cruel at all to put soulless Jack in a box and I think people should get over it. He was killing people and I care more about that than his feelings about being stuck in a box for all of 20 minutes. I simply don't care and it continuously baffles me how big a deal some fans makes out of this when Jack was going around fucking punishing and killing people in horrific ways for not believing in god on Dumah's orders after Cas suggested to her that Jack was in a vulnerable state due to being soulless and could be molded to do others bidding. Anyway like 20 minutes later, Cas went to inquire about putting Jack in The Cage. You know—the room where Sam was trapped for a year with Michael and Lucifer and where as far as Cas knows at that point, Sam was so badly tortured by Michael in addition to Lucifer that it ripped him apart at the seams?

Fandom's take on the entire thing is so devoid of even the most basic level of nuance or even plain simple honesty (to the point one of my mutuals was sent hate mail for months for nothing more than pointing out canonical facts surrounding the incident). It doesn't even surprise me anymore, because this is a fandom that infantilizes Jack to such an extent that it's been passionately argued to me that Jack should be allowed to kill people when he's angry because he has such Big Important Feelings and simultaneously and incongruously—that Dean shooting Jack to keep him from killing the black store clerk Jack was strangling to death in a rage was an act of abuse. Don't even get me started on gun disk horse that exists beyond that regarding the shooting people with guns show.

[nevermorgue]

Hayley! I hope you're well! I come into your inbox to ask about your thoughts and opinions on each spectre, and your favorite ones! Love your blog! :D

HIIII!! I’m so fantastic thank YOU for coming in here. I love your art and your rambles.

My favorite spectres currently are Will’s and Duke’s. But I really love them all. I’ll go into the opinions now

Annabel’s Lady in White - I think she’s beautiful. I love her abilities and the whole bride thing she has going on. I at first wished her dress was more detailed but it’s fine to grow on me. I love the petals, and the hole in her chest is agonizing. Such a pretty spectre. kiss of death is just sooooo. idk her abilities are definitely one of my top favorites.

Morella’s Guardian Spirit - Plain-ish compared to the others, but still fantastic. I feel like her and Annabel are slept on because of how early they were revealed. I love how long her hair gets and the whole celtic vibe. and that she’s mainly defense with the healing and stuff! it’s very unique and it says sooo much about her past. if it were me i’d make her look a little less human wirh maybe more glowing or something but she’s still fabulous :)

Pluto’s Cryptid - im so so so interested in this because apparently domesticated cryptids are super rare? I wanna know more about the other cryptids poppet mentioned so badly. its so fucked that he has a collar too!!! he wanted to escape society but even in death it's like he's bound by the neck. I'm dying for info on that dumb coat too. He's so silly looking. I really wanna see his other abilities. I'll have a stronger opinion when that comes. Ada's Banshee

- I am dying to know what "Mark of the Grave" is so bad. And I love her confusing ass torso. Is she a shadow. is it a dress. I want to know. also LOVE how her limbs being detachable/having the stitch marks implies she was chopped up and buried like that. and her hat. thats a very "southern belle lady" sort of hat. she gets to be the lady she always wanted, just ugly and hideous!! love her and i love her spectre. "fear itself" is one of my favorite abilities and i hope she utilizes it more cough cough on will-

Prospero's Shadow Man - i am dying to know if he can take the mask off. imagine he's like. a sickly corpse looking kind of thing. like himself but rotting or weak as hell. i LOVE his abilities i just wish he had more detaaaailing. hes so cool and handsome though. i also think its super weird/cool how he has to activate his abilities with the stopwatch. i havent seen any other spectres have a "trigger point" like that. would he be rendered useless without it? Montresor's Dybbuk - nipple rings. sorry anyways - i love the chains. because it's not like he's using them, he's the one chained. and the whole. goat legs thing. bc goats are associated with the devil for some reason. I wonder why that is. idk i just love the whole demon thing. because he's been seen as such since like. his birth. and he cant even escape it in death. love it love his shit. his ability to force his way into peoples' memories is CRAZY too i cannot WAIT to see more of that. Eulalie's Chimera - SOOOO pretty. So aesthetically pleasing. I love how she can make stuff with her dreams!!! and the fact that its implied she can yank malevolent spectres back into their regular forms is soooo cool. and just the fact that she can neutralize other spectres in general is such a unique power. shes like defense similar to morella, just in a different way minus healing. i love her. i really dont dislike any spectre i just love them all. Berenice's Strigoi - I will forever be mad that her teeth count as an ability but WHATEVER. She's still badass. I can only imagine how it must feel to basically lose your hands. I'm really excited to see what "Bloodlust" as an ability does. like there are so many cool spectre abilities we havent seen in action yet. The bite that makes you drunk will forever be iconic too. I love her look and i love how her whole outfit is directly correlated to her time period. also love how like each mouth on her is like. its own being. she cant control it. Duke's Poltergeist - I need to like control myself because I will yap nonstop about this one. The NEONS the colors are just fantastic and I LOOOOVE HIS EYES. THE EYES. all of his abilities fuck so hard and i love how like. his "hypnosis" isnt really like full hypnosis its more like a very powerful suggestion? and he couldnt even figure out how to get ada out of it? like he didnt TELL her to use her ability on montresor, he just kinda planted the idea in her head. i also noticed that one of his abilities IS levitation despite us seeing other spectres float on multiple occasion. so the key difference here is the telekinesis portion of the power. just thought that was silly. love him. i love duke. he's my 2nd fave. Will's Doppelganger - i physically have to stop myself from writing a page's worth of bs here. He has DIRT IN HIS JOINTS. like he's DIRTY. like buried and forgotten!! and if he's dust bowl era like so many of us think, perhaps its that same dust. he was left buried in it...forgotten. unidentified. And and and he's SO OP. everyone IC is underestimating how he has one of the most powerful spectres. He was able to almost fool the misfits as duke, he honestly did a fantastic job. He has to memorize so much. like its genuinely impressive. and then his ribbons. notice how they wrap around HIM before/during use. like he's fucking tangled in in them too, not just his victims. i dont think he's ever been free. he's never not been wrapped up in someone else's shit. he's never been "william". i- i need to stop. hes the best. best spectre- and i pray that the characters realize how much POWER he really has.

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part XIII: Clemens Point ii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader word count: 10.1k summary: Arthur patches you up and makes good on his promise *wink wink*. Dutch insists you work with the Gray family, which leads you to a job gone wrong. a/n: long time no see. I'm excited to be back and to get this chapter out. love you guys so much and I'm still astounded by how many follow this series. ignore any typos, margo is sleeping hehe. lastly, i write most of this in may, but as for the rest, its been awhile since i wrote arthur so forgiive me if im a little rickety around the edges. warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, minors dni, graphic violence, sexual themes. series masterpost │ masterlist

The sunlight filters through the cracks of your tent, casting the room in orange shadows. It's a surprisingly peaceful morning, and you awaken on your own instead of by a yelling Miss Grimshaw or some other camp ruckus. Your eyes flutter open slowly, landing on Arthur. You stay still so as not to alert him as you watch his form.

He's still dressed in his unbuttoned union suit, sitting in a chair with his ankle crossed over his knee. He faces you, but his face is scrunched up in concentration as he fixates on the journal in his lap. His hand works diligently, wrapped around a piece of charcoal as he details something on the worn pages. You smile, catching his eyes when he glances up to your cuddled up body. 

"Didn't mean to wake ya." Arthur mumbles, folding his journal over his charcoal. It's a rarity that you get to sleep in, and Arthur had wanted to let you rest as long as possible.

"You didn't." You hum, smiling up at him as you prop your head up on your elbow, "Can I see?" You ask. 

Arthur hesitates for only a fraction of a second before standing and sitting down on the bed beside you. It dips under his weight, and you lean into his shoulder as he passes the leather bound journal over to you. 

Your fingers sift through the pages until you find the charcoal, and carefully, you open the little book. A smile tugs at your lips as you run your fingers over the drawing. It takes up two pages, a perfect sketch of you sleeping. Your hair is messy, with little wisps framing your face in an effortlessly beautiful crown. Your lips are plump from sleep as you cling to the thick blankets, you had hoped they were Arthur in your unconscious state. Your eyelashes are thick as your eyes lay closed, your body frozen in time in the little journal. 

"Beautiful." You hum, eyes never leaving the pages. There's a few words written at the bottom of the page, and your eyes flicker to them.

'I reckon I'll be counting my lucky stars until the end of my days.'

"And I'll be countin' mine." You hum, looking up at him. The journal meets your lap as your hand cups his cheek. Arthur's hand covers your own, his warmth encasing you.

"You're too good for me." Arthur says, his. green eyes searching the depths of your own. Even after the time you've spent together, he struggles to comprehend why you've chosen him. 

"I'm not." You counter as Arthur pulls your hand away from his face. He takes your smaller hand in his, looking down at your bruised and bloodied knuckles from when you'd beat the outlaw Anders Anderson. 

"I was supposed to patch these up last night." Arthur raises an eyebrow at you as if it's your fault that you both forgot. You can't help it that you fell asleep, he was just too comfortable.

"They're fine, just a few scratches." You say as Arthur inspects the damage. Bruises blossom along your knuckles in purple and red splotches, and you wince as Arthur gently runs his thumb across them. 

"This'll only take me a minute." He hums, reaching to his satchel to pull out a few items. He brings some cotton balls and a bottle of alcohol out. You watch on as Arthur kneels on the ground before you, pouring some of the alcohol onto the little swab. He puts the alcohol down before taking your hand in his own to examine your knuckles. 

"This is gonna sting like hell." He warns, and you nod, letting him know to continue. 

You groan through clamped teeth when the alcohol soaked cotton reaches the scrapes on your knuckles. It seeps through the cuts, burning you with a stinging blaze as it cleans your wounds. Arthur pulls the cotton away, eyes flickering up to you to make sure it doesn't hurt too bad. 

"I'm okay." You reassure him. Arthur's eyes flicker down to your stomach before he continues cleaning up your hands. He remembers seeing Anders punch you in the gut, and he makes a note to check there too. You get used to the burning sensation when Arthur wipes away the blood from your other hand. He takes his time, working diligently with his eyebrows pulled together in focus. 

When he deems your hands clean, he stands, extending his hand out to you. You take it, standing chest to chest as Arthur's hands silently find the hem of your chemise. You raise your arms as he pulls it over your head and tosses it to the ground. The silence is loud as Arthur runs his fingers between the valley of your breasts until they land on the bruised skin of your stomach. You shudder under his touch, hands sheepishly covering your breasts as he traces the pattern of forming bruises. His touch is so soft that you barely feel it, just a feather light trail along your exposed skin.

"He got you pretty good." Arthur mumbles.

"You got him a lot worse."

Arthur's fingers cause goosebumps to ripple across your skin, and he's not lost on the way your breathing quickens. His hands find purchase on your waist once he's checked you over, and you lean up to whisper in his ear. 

"You broke your promise." You murmur into his ear. Your hands press against his chest, snaking under his union suit. Arthur's lips find your neck as his hands pull you closer to his body. He'd promised to spend the night with you last night, but you were both too tired. It seems like a perfect moment to call the favor in. 

"Did I?" He teases, mumbling against your neck as he lightly nips the skin there. He knows exactly what he owes you. His hand slides up your ribs, thumb teasing your nipple in small circles. The feelings he gives you– god, wiping away your cuts and bruises one moment and sucking on your neck in the next. He fills you with butterflies, he fills you with need. 

"Mhm." You moan as he kisses your pulsepoint. He can feel how your heart quickens under his touch, and he smirks at the realization. 

"My apologies, miss." Arthur grumbles as your hands grip onto his union suit, sliding the cloth down over his shoulders. It hits the floor, wrapped around his ankles before he steps out of the material. 

His hand runs down your hip to your entrance, and he runs his fingers over your folds through your underwear. It's only seconds before his lips meet yours, and his fingers hook under your waistband, pulling the rest of the clothing down. It meets the floor silently as Arthur's lips move against yours, and butterflies rise in your stomach at his touch. You moan into his mouth as he runs his tongue over your bottom lip, gently pulling away with a nip. 

He nudges you back so softly, until the backs of your knees hit the bed with a gentle thud. You glance up to him as he cups your cheek, thumb running over the soft flesh on your cheekbone. 

You love him. Looking up at him, you know it. You choke on emotion as he looks down at you with those sparkling green eyes. There's so much warmth in them, so much softness. You've never been cared for like he cares for you.

You lay back on the bed, extending your hand out for Arthur to take. His warm hand wraps around yours as he meets you on the bed, body lining overtop of you. 

"Do we have a lot of time?" You whisper, hands gripping Arthur's hair as he kisses the trail between your breasts. You arch your back, looking for more of his lips. 

"All the time in the world." He hums against your skin, teasing your nipple with his tongue. It's a new sensation, and you gasp as it sends a ripple of pleasure straight through your core. His hand kneads your other breast before his kisses trail back up to your neck. 

"So perfect," He growls against your skin, gripping your waist tightly between his big hands, "My Star." 

Your heart soars underneath him, and you catch his lips in one last sweet kiss before he pulls back to touch you. A few strands of Arthur's hair fall into his face, his lips are plump from your kisses and his eyes are shining. His muscles tighten beautifully as he adjusts, spreading your knees so gently that your heart skips a beat. You're still new at this, and Arthur plans on talking you through it to make sure you're comfortable. Even without him saying it, you know he will. He always does. 

Arthur's fingers run along your folds, and you buck your hips to speed up his process. You should try to be quick, anyone could come along at any point and find you two, but Arthur can't bring himself to rush. It's been too long since he's had you, and he plans on taking his time. 

You're soaking with need for him as Arthur slips his fingers into you. You moan, and your head tosses back as Arthur curls them slowly, tickling that sweet spot deep in you. Your hand searches for something to grip onto, settling on his less busy hand. You grip it tightly, and he interlocks your fingers together.

"How's this feel?" Arthur asks, glancing up to your face. There's a look of ecstasy there, pure bliss as your features relax and you bite your lip. 

"Good." You hum, keeping your voice quiet to not alert anyone. Arthur chuckles as your hand tightens around his own, and his fingers keep a steady pace as his thumb meets the bud of nerves at your core. 

He leans down to catch your lips, steadying himself on your interlocked hand. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you blind. You’ll never get used to letting yourself have this. His warmth wraps around your body, making you feel safe and loved. His fingers keep their slow pace, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of satisfaction as he holds you tightly underneath him. Your skin blazes with warmth at his touch, muscles tightening as he gives you everything you could have dreamed of. 

“Still okay?” Arthur asks, pulling away from your lips for a second to speak in a low tone. You nod your head, pulling him down to you with your free hand. Your other hand lays interlocked with his beside your head, gripping him tightly in fear that if you let go he’ll disappear. It’s foolish, a bad habit. 

“Yes–!” You gasp, stomach coiling before his hands finally send you over the edge. You squeeze his hand as you moan, coming undone. Arthur quickly kisses you, muffling your moans with his mouth so as not to alert anyone of the display you're making. His lips are gentle against your own, lovingly making yours bruised with kisses. Waves crash over you, stronger than the ocean's as you mewl and moan against Arthur's lips. Your legs tremble, toes curling as you pull away to gasp for breath. Arthur's fingers slip out of you, and his hand finds purchase on the mattress beside your head. With a smile on his lips, Arthur places a kiss to your forehead. 

"I could do this all day." He hums deeply against your hair. There's nothing quite like watching you unfold, and it's a sight Arthur won't ever get enough of. 

"Yes, but we can't." You counter, letting go of his hand to wrap both of yours around the back of his neck, pulling him down to you, "So hurry up. Y’know, it's rude to leave a lady waitin." 

Arthur chuckles, and he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

"Yes ma'am." He chuckles again, always astounded by your tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down to you. Never in your life have you let yourself be so vulnerable with someone, it's a shocking realization. You're not afraid of it anymore, you don't fight it. You'll happily trust fall into this relationship if he's the one catching you– which he always will be.

Arthur's already hard pressed from just watching and hearing you as he lines up with your entrance. You grip his shoulders in anticipation before he slowly slides in the whole way. You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of being so damn full. 

"Y'okay?" Arthur asks as you wince from the stretch of it all. 

"Yes. Please, move." You beg, digging your heels into him. He starts to move, sliding out just to come back in, slow and hard. Your eyes fall closed and you bite your lip to stop the moans from falling out. Anyone could walk past and hear. Hell, even the bed creaking might alert someone. 

Your eyelashes flutter open, eyes locking onto his for a moment as your heart skips a beat. He's so perfect. His arms flex and strain beautifully as he holds himself above you. His green eyes flicker over your body, making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself, drinking your body in all the while. 

His tanned skin is covered with a thin sheen of sweat. You can't help the way you pull him down to you, pressing your lips to his neck. Arthur groans as you kiss the sensitive spot, and again as your lips part, nibbling on his earlobe. 

"You feel so damn good." You whimper as the bed rocks. Arthur grips the small headboard to silence it, and you watch as his muscles flex above your head. He uses the headboard for leverage, thrusting into you harder. You place your wrist over your mouth to silence your moans as he loves you with reckless abandon. 

A slow fluttering starts in your core, spreading out as Arthur's thrusts get harder. He's losing his composure, and you watch as his eyes occasionally squint shut, or his mouth falls open and closes again before he can make any noise. It's a shame, having to be so quiet. 

"You're–" Arthur purses his lips to stop from groaning, "Such a good girl." 

Good girl? It does something to you, ignites a fire under your skin as you grip onto him. 

"Say that again." You mewl, head tossing back. Arthur recounts what he's just said, putting two and two together as your nails scratch at his back and your hips buck to meet his. 

"That's my good girl."  Arthur smirks, happily uncovering this information. You snap, unfolding beneath him completely once his thumb starts to brush against your clit. You try not to think about Arthur's past partners, but you subconsciously thank them for teaching him what he knows because damn– he knows. 

"Oh, Arthur–" You begin.

Arthur's hand lets go of the head board and clamps over your mouth, muffling your noises. His hand is big, covering your entire mouth and forcing you to breathe through your nose. If anything, it only spurs you on further.

"Darlin', you know I love hearin' you say my name, but you gotta be quiet." Arthur shushes, but it's a moot point. Your eyes roll back, legs clamping around Arthur as stars fill your vision and pleasure rolls over you like the lapping shores of Flat Iron Lake. Arthur's hand muffles all the noises that he wishes he could hear while he thinks about how he'll need to get you both a hotel room soon. 

Contrary to what he's saying about keeping you quiet, he begins pounding into you hard. He's close. Watching you finish proves to be his undoing as he fights back groans, letting go of your mouth to replace his hand with his lips. Your tongues collide as your lips slot together, and both of your moans mix as you muffle each other's noises. You come down just as Arthur slips out, shooting his spend on your spread thighs. 

“Christ.” Arthur pants, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You squeeze his hand lightly before he stands from the bed to get you a towel. 

“What a way to start the morning.” You hum, propping your head on your hand. Your eyes run over his naked form, and you smirk as the planes of his back flex.

"You practically jumped me. Weren't my fault." Arthur chuckles, bringing the towel over to clean you up. 

"I did not!" You defend, smacking him lightly. Arthur chuckles, tossing the towel in his little hamper. 

"Whatever you say." Arthur jokes as your jaw falls playfully. You huff, not minding him as you stand up to get ready.

After getting dressed and cleaned up, you and Arthur head out of his tent together. It’s still early, but mostly everyone else is awake, save for Uncle and Reverend. 

“I’ll get you some coffee.” Arthur mumbles, hand on the small of your back before he leaves you to get the percolator from Pearson’s tent. 

“Thank you.” You smile, eyes scanning over camp to see where everyone is. Charles and John sit at the fire, and you make your way over as you place your black hat atop your head. John and Charles laugh over something as you walk towards them, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. 

“Boys.” You greet, digging your boot into the dirt. John has a cigarette between his lips and a cup of coffee in his hand, and Charles is sharpening his hunting knife by the fire. 

“Where you been all morning? We had to listen to Grimshaw’s nagging for the last half hour.” John asks and you blush, looking down at your hands. 

“Just slept in is all.” You lie, perking up as Arthur walks across camp with two steaming cups of joe. 

“There he is.” Charles hums as Arthur sits down beside you on the log. He hands you the metal cup of coffee, and you wrap your hands around the warm mug, cherishing the way its heat sinks into your bones. 

“What you boys been up to since we got down here?” Arthur asks before his lips meet the rim of his mug and he drinks down some of his coffee. You’re distracted from the conversation when a little hand tugs at the back of your shirt. The conversation continues on as you turn around with a smile on your face. 

“Hey Jack.” You greet as the young boy walks around the log to the front. Without warning, he crawls up into your lap, curling up. You place your coffee on the ground, brushing your fingers through the boy’s hair. 

“How you likin’ the new camp?” You ask, looking down at him. You feel bad for Jack. All he's done his whole life is move from place to place, no home besides a bedroll on the ground. His family, the gaggle of outlaws, is falling apart before him, and he has nothing but the clothes on his back to cling to. 

“It’s okay! I like the water. Momma lets me play in the lake, and she’s even teaching me how to swim!” Jack smiles, beaming with pride as he looks at the lake behind you. 

“Is she?” You smile warmly as Jack nods. 

“Yep! It’s so fun, but I think my Papa is afraid of the water… he never comes in.” Jack’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks about John and his fear of water, and you giggle. John’s attention falls on you both then, and his face scrunches up in something similar to offense mixed with humor. 

“Hey, I ain’t afraid of the water.” John huffs, shaking his head. Arthur laughs out loud, joining the conversation as well.

“Sure Y’ain’t! Remember that time back in New Austin you fell into that–” He looks to Charles, “What was it?” 

“Lake Don Julio.” Charles replies with a smirk. 

“Yeah, that's it. You fell into Lake Don Julio n’ everyone had to gather round to scoop your sorry ass out.” Arthur laughs, and Jack giggles in your lap. 

“I–” John tries to come up with some defense, “My horse bucked me, weren’t my fault, and that water was deep.” 

You all laugh as John’s cheeks burn red as the flames of the campfire, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s alright, John. We can have the boy teach you to swim.” Arthur chuckles, gesturing to Jack. Arthur’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight of Jack in your arms. It comes so naturally to you, being around children. They love you. It makes his heart warm and ache just the same. 

“I hate to break up all the fun, but there’s work to be done.” A booming voice calls from across camp. Your eyes flicker up to Dutch, stomping forward through camp with some plan sparkling in his eyes. You sigh, placing Jack’s feet on the ground as he jogs off towards his tent. 

“We was just talkin.” John says, standing from his seat and dusting off his knees. Everyone looks to Dutch as he scans around the fire, taking in the four of you. His hands are on his belt as he eyes you and Arthur. 

“You two." Dutch points at you and then Arthur, "I want you poking around the Gray's today. Go down to the jail and pay our dear friend, the Sheriff, a visit. See what you can find." Dutch orders. You nod, grabbing your cup of coffee from the ground to swig down the last of it. 

"Hosea is already at the Braithwaite’s. He mentioned something about moonshine. I'll have you both workin' with him in no time. We're gonna play these folk like fiddles, hit them from both sides and they'll be none the wiser." Dutch says with his chest puffed. He's proud of his plan no doubt, foolish as it is. 

The names Gray and Braithwaite cause so much ruckus around here, and no one messes with those families for a reason. Leave it to Dutch to poke the bear. You're not so sure about playing both families, but Dutch is the leader, after all. You know when to keep your mouth shut, and now is certainly one of those times. You place your coffee cup into your satchel before standing from the log, stretching your knees as you do. 

"Alright, guess it wouldn't hurt to just talk to the feller. Maybe he'll even have some more work. Star, you up for more outlaw chasin'?" Arthur chuckles. 

"Still recoverin' from the last one, but sure!" You smirk, grabbing your satchel and swinging it over your shoulder. 

"Don't make any noise in town, just get on the Sheriff's good side." Dutch says as he backs away, turning to head back to his tent. 

"Sure." You remark quietly, turning to look at John and Charles, "I'll catch you boys later."

They nod as you wait for Arthur to grab his things, and then head off towards the hitching posts. Athena and Balius are there waiting for you, but surprisingly they aren't saddled like you'd expected them to be. Your eyebrows pull together as you look around for Kieran. 

A smile blossoms on your lips, and you grab Arthur's shirt to pull his attention to where you're looking. 

He turns, watching the scene play out with furrowed brows. 

Kieran and Marybeth sit side by side on the blanket under her canopy, smiling and chatting with each other. There's a book in Marybeth's hands, but it's folded closed over her thumb. Her attention is too focused on Kieran to worry about the silly story. Kieran is nervously rambling, shaking his head, and smiling like a schoolboy.

"You think they're sweet on one another?" You ask, looking up at Arthur. He huffs. 

"Marybeth and that damn O'Driscoll. Who woulda thought?" Arthur exclaims, shaking his head. You’re not sure that he approves of the apparent relationship between the two, but he did save Kieran, so that has to count for something. 

“He ain’t an O’Driscoll– at least not anymore. He’s not so bad, actually.” You hum, watching on for a moment longer before walking towards Athena. She’s near the posts, unhitched, munching on a bale of hay with Balius. The scarred shire horse nudges your mare’s nose affectionately as they share the foliage. It brings a sweet smile to your lips. 

“Look, even these two are courtin’ each other. What the hell’s in the water?” Arthur chuckles, placing his hand under Balius’s jaw to lead the horse to the post. He follows with little instruction, and you whistle for Athena to come to you. You grab her bridle from the post, sliding the bit in her mouth before fastening her chin strap. The mare looks good. You run your hand down her body, checking over her for anything out of sorts. She whinnies lightly, shaking her head as you scratch her croup. 

“Is there a stable in Rhodes?” You ask, leaning down to pick up Athena’s hoof. Her shoes have grown out a little further than you’d like, she's definitely due for a new pair.

Arthur runs a brush along Balius’s body, getting rid of any dirt as he coos to the stallion. He turns at your question, seeing the overgrown hooves that you’re looking at. 

“No, the nearest one is up by the stateline. We’ll get up there soon enough, Balius is fixin’ for a new set of shoes too.” Arthur explains, and you nod. 

You grab your saddle pad and saddle together, and carefully swing them over Athena’s back. You tie her saddle with a perfect texas t before checking all the straps. Arthur is still tacking Balius up, and you seize the moment to feed Athena an oatcake from your satchel. 

“Here girl.” You mumble to the mare, petting her nose as she munches on the treat. 

“You comin’?” Arthur asks, swinging himself into the saddle. You climb onto Athena, sticking your boot into your stirrup. 

“I guess.” You chuckle, thinking about going back to Rhodes. You’re not sure how Dutch thinks you’re going to become Sheriff Leigh Gray’s new best friend, but you’ll try nonetheless.

“Ladies first.” Arthur hums, and you roll your eyes as you pass him on the trail out of camp. Sean is on guard duty, and he makes sure to give you some hell as you pass by. Other than him, the ride goes smooth. No Lemoyne Raiders get in your way, which you’re thankful for. Athena is a bit more sensitive than usual on account of her shoes, but other than that the ride to Rhodes is good. 

You pull your mare up to the hitching post outside of the jail and hop down with a slight wince. You’ve barely recovered from your last wild goose chase, and here you are, back at the jail to pick up more work. Rhodes isn’t too busy on account of the time, which you’re thankful for. Arthur gives Balius a pat for his work before stepping towards you with a smile. 

“Ready?” He asks, hand settling on the small of your back as he leads you up the steps. 

“Sure am.” You chuckle. Arthur grabs the old brass door handle and pulls it open, holding it open for you. You walk through the threshold, squinting as your eyes adjust to the change in light. Leigh Gray, the sheriff, sits in his chair with his boots up on his desk. His hands are occupied with the day’s paper as he glances up to you two. 

“You’re back! Y’know I never did catch your names yesterday.” The sheriff points out, slapping his paper down on the desk. He swings his feet down to the ground, standing up to shake Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur quickly scans the room, finding a collection of posters on the wall. They’re all advertisements, and Arthur hones in on one for ‘Callahan’s Confectionery’. 

“Arthur Callahan,” Arthur introduces his newfound alias all the while shaking the hand of the sheriff, “and the missus.” Arthur introduces you as his wife, and a blush forms across your cheeks. Sheriff Gray tips his hat to you as you hide your hands behind your back to avoid any questions about the lack of a ring. 

“Well, Mr. Callahan, how can I help you on this fine morning?” The Sheriff asks. He seems nervous. Sweat clings to his brow and dark circles line under his eyes. You assume the Anderson boy has been giving him trouble, and there’s also the apparent problem with the Gray’s son and that Braithwaite girl. 

“That's actually what we came to ask you. We’re lookin’ to help out.” Arthur explains, taking a few steps forward. Arthur doesn’t mean to intimidate the man, but the sheriff takes a few steps back anyway. You wonder how he’s managed to remain in office for so long without getting killed or worse. He seems pretty yellow-bellied for the job. 

“You need work? Well I’m glad you came to me. It’s always better to work for a Gray than a stinkin’, degenerate Braithwaite.” 

Arthur’s tongue lines his cheek as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at the goddamn feud tearing these people apart.

“Of course.” Arthur replies. 

“Y’know… there’s this bastard I’ve been meaning to grab. He’s gone out of state, but I want him. He killed my second cousin Gertrude, you see.” The Sheriff begins. His eyes almost glaze over as he gets lost in his story, “She was lookin’ for medicine, but this man– he is a no good fellow. He sells poison as medicine. Y’know, my great grandfather was a doctor? When we was kids he used to–” Sheriff Gray rambles on before Arthur rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and interrupting the annoying man. 

“Listen, mister, no disrespect, but just tell me who he is and where to find him.” Arthur grumbles, irritated with the fool. The Sheriff doesn’t look too hurt by Arthur’s interruption, and you assume his ramblings are frequently cut short. 

“His name is Benedict Allbright. He’s a peculiar looking fella, came from the city after pitching his miracle cure. He's been seen near Valentine, you know of it?” The Sheriff asks, to which you nod your head dejectedly. 

“Yeah, we know it.” You sigh, glancing up at Arthur.

“He’s near the Dakota River, camping out on the cliffs. I need him alive.” Sheriff Gray gives you the details before slumping back into his chair and picking the newspaper back up. You nod, turning to head out the door, but Sheriff Gray turns your attention back to him. 

"Oh! Almost forgot– there's a festival bein' held. Rhodes' 75th anniversary. Here. You're welcome to join, it's supposed to be a good time." The Sheriff says, grabbing a pamphlet from his desk drawer. Your eyebrows pull together as you accept the paper, running your eyes over the festivities. Games, food, candy, and shows, it seems like a good time, so long as the feud settles down enough for the town to get along. 

"Well, thank you. You can count on us bein' there." Arthur hums before tipping his hat. "And Allbright? Well, I reckon we'll have him back to you in no time." 

The Sheriff holds up a hand in a half attempt at a wave as you and Arthur exit the jail. As soon as you're out of earshot, you grip Arthur's arm, forcing him to turn around. 

"'You can count on us bein' there'?  Are you sure goin' to this festival is a good idea?" You ask, holding the pamphlet out to Arthur. He takes the paper, running his tongue over his thumb before flipping the page. 

"It'll get us more information, and hell, it might be fun." Arthur replies, eyes running over the list of vendors. Your eyebrows pull together, and a hand on his bicep pulls his attention back to you. 

"We got an alias to keep up now. The Callahans? We gotta be careful with that, Arthur. And with Hosea playin' the other side like he is? I don't know if havin' a good time in the middle of town is the attention we need right now." You point out, tone hushed to avoid eavesdroppers. Arthur nods his head, eyes flickering up to yours. He sees the worry clouding your eyes, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone. 

"C'mon, where's that fire?" Arthur asks and your face falls, "We got this, it's just a festival. We get a little information, and we have a good time. An evenin' away from camp, havin' fun like decent folk do. It'll be good for us."

You lean into his touch, letting out a breath at his reassurance. 

"I'm just so afraid they're gonna find us again…" You admit, and Arthur's smile falters at the sight of your worries. You're talking about the Pinkertons of course. After Valentine, any noise is bad noise. 

"They won't. I won't let 'em hurt you, Star." Arthur mumbles, eyes searching the pain on your face and wishing that they could reassure you. He means every word of his promise. He will not let the Pinkertons lay a damned finger on you.

But it does sound like a good time. A day away, enjoying yourselves like a normal couple might, sharing fine treats and walking down the main street hand in hand. It's a simple pleasure, something an average couple might do, but you and Arthur are certainly not an average couple. 

"Fine, when is it?" You ask, peeking towards the pamphlet in his hands. He unfolds the paper flaps, locating the date in red, bold letters. 

"Next week." He states, tapping his finger against the paper. 

"It's a date. But c'mon, let's go get this bastard first." You say, nudging Arthur towards the horses. They’re waiting patiently, tails swatting away unwanted flies as they take turns drinking from the trough. You walk side by side with Arthur, chuckling at a pair of foxhounds playing in the rust colored dirt. 

“You ever bounty hunted before?” Arthur asks, taking his reins from the hitching post and swinging them over Balius’s neck. 

“No.” You huff. You’ve been on the wrong side of the law for a while now.  It never occurred to you to hunt down other outlaws. It’s also a two or more man job, you’d neve tackle a bounty alone. 

“We can make it there in a day. We misewell stop at the stables on the way too, get everyone new shoes.” Arthur hums. He slips his boot into his stirrup in time with you as you both swing up into the saddle. Athena paws at the ground impatiently until you squeeze her sides to walk down the main road. 

“Do we have everything we need?” You ask. Surely you’ll need something to tie Allbright up with, a lasso or bolas. You’re not sure what else bounty hunting entails, but you feel underprepared. 

“Yeah, I got everythin’ on me. We’ll spend the night up there, ride back in the mornin.” Arthur calls to you, his drawl thick. Being back in the south has made his accent a little stronger, and you smile for it. 

“How exactly does this help us with the Grays?” You ask. Going on a wild goose chase seems odd, especially considering that you’re supposed to be gathering intel on the Grays. Instead,  you’re heading back to Valentine, the town that almost got you all killed a handful of weeks ago.  

“Well, Dutch wants us on their good side, so we’ll do what the sheriff says n’ hope he gives us somethin.”

You bite your tongue. It seems above Arthur’s station to go out running around for Dutch. You’d think that after being his right hand man for twenty years, Dutch could send someone else out on these jobs. 

“You his errand boy now?” You bite. The words slip out, and your eyes fall shut as you cringe, awaiting his snap.  

“Excuse me?” Arthur’s eyes squint as he turns around in his saddle to look at you sternly. 

“Listen, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, but couldn’t he have sent one of the other boys? I mean, shouldn’t you be in camp plannin’ with Dutch?” 

The words cut Arthur deep. He’s not upset with you, he’s upset because you’re right. Micah is probably back from Downes’ Ranch by now, whispering lies into Dutch’s ear. It should be Arthur by Dutch’s side. Arthur locks his jaw,  pushing the thoughts away.

“It ain’t like that, Star. We all gotta do our part.” He counters, still in denial about the whole thing. 

“Hey.” You call softly, trotting Athena up to Balius’s side. You reach over and grab Arthur’s hand, squeezing it encouragingly, “You’re right, we all gotta do our part… I’m sorry.” 

Arthur stops his horse and squeezes your hand back.  

“I’m just glad to be with ya, darlin’. Now c’mon, stable ain’t far.” Arthur whispers, nodding Northwest.  

— — — —

Balius and Athena each get new shoes, a proper grooming, and plenty of provisions for the road. They look incredible, and you tip the stable hand nicely for his work. After their pampering, you hit the road towards Valentine, though you'd rather be headed anywhere else. Arthur takes care to avoid the town, riding on the outskirts to evade any lingering law. 

He leads you in the direction of the cliffs, and the paths get more and more narrow the higher you descend. 

"I don't like this, Arthur. We should leave the horses here." You point out, heart pounding as you look at the water below the cliff's edge. Athena prances nervously, tossing her head and pawing at the ground. 

"Alright, we'll walk the rest. Shouldn't be far." Arthur agrees, dismounting before walking further up the slope.

A little fire comes into view, you can see the smoke rising above the cliff that you’re climbing up. You try not to look down and see the Dakota River below. It splashes and rages forward, waves crashing against rocks and splashing up in crystal-like pebbles of water. You swallow thickly, stomach churning as you follow Arthur. 

“Try not to look down.” Arthur grunts, and you nod. 

“Easier said than done.” You huff, keeping your footsteps calculated. Arthur uses two fingers to signal that Allbright is ahead, and you hunch down. 

You and Arthur see the bounty before he sees you. He's hunched over a small campfire on the rocks, poking at the flames with a stick. His movements cause embers and smoke to waft up to the dark sky in flecks. You focus on the embers to distract yourself from the turmoil below. 

He is an oddly dressed man, clearly from the city. Allbright is adorned in a blue suit with a matching top hat. A small pair of spectacles sit on the bridge of his large nose, giving sight to beady, dark eyes. You step closer to him, looking up at Arthur for instruction.

"Follow my lead." He whispers back to you and you nod. 

Arthur stands up tall then, pushing his shoulders back and you see as a new persona falls over him. You can understand why Hosea is always pushing Arthur to act more, he's a natural. Arthur strides forward until he's just near the edge of Allbright's camp. 

"You Benedict Allbright?" Arthur asks loudly, stepping forward. You follow, staying a step behind and to the side of Arthur.

Allbright's head snaps up in shock and he immediately stands from the fire, backing away from the two of you. He drops his poking stick to the ground, and it catches on fire, burning up against the rock trail. 

"N-no!" Allbright shakes his head. You can see the panic in his eyes, you can hear the tremble in his voice. 

"You look a lot like him." You say plainly, eyeing up and down his suit. The bright colors nearly give you a headache, and you wonder why anyone would spend such an amount of money on such odd clothes, "And we were told he'd be up here." You add. 

Benedict Allbright takes a step back, almost plastering himself against the rock wall. He shakes his head nervously. When you look up at Arthur for a game plan, your eyebrows draw together. He looks… sad, crestfallen even. 

"You see, we were hopin' to buy some medicine from him." Arthur sighs, dejected. His head falls lightly and he grips your hand. 

"My mother in law, she's real sick." Arthur says. 

Damn he's good. 

You copy his downtrodden look, teary eyes flickering up to Allbright in one final plea. 

"We'll pay in gold if you help us, mister." You beg, a faux tear slipping down your cheek. 

Allbright lights up like a damn Christmas tree. A smile forms across his lips as he points his index fingers to the sky.

"If it's for a sick woman, I'd be happy to help!" He chimes. You watch on as he shuffles towards his bedroll, rummaging through a bag there. He pulls out a shimmering, dark green bottle, looking like any other tonic. 

"This is the finest medicine in the state, ma'am. I'm a healer, you know, a medical man!" He smiles, sick and twisted as he hands you the poison. 

You take the glass from him with a smile, but it promptly falls as you drop the bottle and let it shatter all over the ground. A scowl etches onto your face as you nod for Arthur to grab the bastard. 

"It's over, mister." Arthur grumbles, leaning forward and grabbing Albright's revolver from its holster. He tosses the weapon over the cliff ledge, and it falls down into the violent waters. Arthur unholsters his own gun, pointing it at Allbright. The fear of God enters Albright's eyes as he realizes he's been duped. 

"What?!" Allbright hisses, backing away from Arthur. His back is almost on the rock wall, and he glances around for a way to escape. 

"Apparently that stuff you're sellin' is killin' folk. I don't know, ain't my business." Arthur grumbles. He leans forward to grab Allbright's wrist, but the older man jumps away. He skips around the fire until his back is at the cliff's edge. You take a step closer to him. 

"I'm a healer! I've got an aura, I speak to spirits!" Allbright yells, looking around for any escape route or a weapon, "I'm a–"

"a lunatic." You huff, rolling your eyes, "Give it up." 

He backs away, heel dangerously close to the edge. One wrong move and he'll be down in the dangerous waters. Your heart rate picks up as you take another step forward. 

"Careful, Star." Arthur warns, deeply. 

"I'm a scientist, this is a mistake!" Allbright yells just as you reach out to grab onto his coat. It backfires, and he grips tightly onto your hair. You yelp as he pulls you against him. Your back is pulled tightly against Allbright's chest and something cold and sharp presses against your neck. You gasp as it knicks you, realizing he pulled a knife.

"I'll– I'll go over the edge and take her with me!" Allbright stutters and yells. 

"Allbright!!" Arthur roars, stepping forward. the bounty steps back, and you whimper as rocks and gravel fall off the cliff's edge from his boots. Arthur steps back, hands up as his heart races. His eyes are locked onto yours. 

"Let me go!" You hiss, but he presses the knife tighter against your throat. You have to strain your neck back against his chest to avoid the sharp blade. 

"Goddammit, let her go, or I swear to god–" Arthur begins, panic thick in his voice. Allbright chuckles, realizing that he's in the position of power now. 

"We can deal with this like men, leave the lady out of it." Arthur pleads, turning the barrel of his gun up towards the sky. Your nails dig into Albright's arm as you attempt to pull it away from your throat. You gasp, terrified. The thought of going down over the cliff sends your body into a panicked state, and your eyes beg Arthur to find a way out of this. 

"I'm not going with you, bounty hunter!" Allbright hollers. His neck cranes around, looking down at the violent crash of waves below him. Arthur's eyes are wide as he extends a hand out to you. You try to grab it, but Allbright steps back, dragging you with him. 

"I'll take my chances jumping." Allbright states. 

"Arthur!" You yelp, right before Allbright drags you back once more. 

Suddenly the ground is gone from below your feet. You feel yourself falling, and you scream for Arthur once more. You're not sure if you're going to die, you don't have much time to think about it, but you hope it won't be too painful if you do. The rocks below you are almost as threatening as the dark water. Your hands extend toward the sky, gripping and searching for anything to hang onto. Of course, there is nothing. 

"Star!!" You hear Arthur roar from above, and your eyes slip shut in pain. You should've told him, should've said that you love him. 

You hear Allbright splash into the water, and you know that it'll only be seconds until you crash. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the impact. 

An unimaginable pain courses through your body when you make contact with the water. It's like ice, causing your muscles to seize and contract painfully. The water's intensity causes you to flip and spin. You fight to swim to the top, but the river is carrying you downstream quickly and you're not sure which way is up. Your lungs burn in search of air, and you choke on water as you fight to breach the top. 

It's a fight, but just as your vision begins to fill with white stars from lack of oxygen, you breach the surface. Your arms work to keep you afloat as you gasp and choke on air. There's too much water in your lungs and you can't breathe. Your movements are sluggish and exhausted, but you fight nonetheless. 

The shore passes by quickly as the river carries you downstream. You try to scream for Arthur, but it comes out weak. The ice cold water makes your body rigid, and you struggle to keep yourself afloat. 

"Stay up, keep fightin'!" 

At the sound of Arthur's voice, you perk up. Your eyes scan the shore and lock onto Balius galloping down the rocky trail. 

"I'm comin!" He yells. You try to take his instruction, really you do, but the water is so cold and you feel it pulling you down. You can barely hang on, arms burning from keeping yourself afloat. 

"Grab on!" Arthur yells over the crashing water. Your wet eyelashes flutter open, and you see Arthur's lasso in the water ahead of you. 

"Star, c'mon! You gotta grab on, please!" Arthur pleads. You stick your hand through the loop, and it tightens around your wrist.  Water burns in your lungs as stars fill your vision and everything slowly fades to black. 

— — — — 

A rhythmic thumping pounds in your chest, wracking your entire body. Your eyes flutter open as you wake up, and you turn onto your side, retching up cold, salty water. You gasp for breath, coughing as Arthur's hands pull away from your chest to rub up and down your back. 

"Shit, Star. I thought I lost you." Arthur's voice radiates from beside you, and your wet eyelashes flutter as you look up at him. You're splayed uncomfortably in the grass, and you pull your knees up to your chin as you shiver, gasping for air. 

"Goddammit, I'm so sorry I brought ya up here." Arthur whispers, heart racing. 

"I'm s-so c-cold." You whisper, teeth chattering loudly. Arthur's thumb runs over your cheek as he worriedly looks over your too pale face. Your lips are nearly blue, and wet strands of hair stick to your freezing skin. 

"I know. I'll get you into town, but you gotta get out of these wet clothes lest you freeze on the way." 

Arthur takes your hands, helping you to your feet. Your bones ache from being so cold and overworked, and when you look down you notice the rope burn searing on your left wrist from Arthur pulling you in. It all comes back to you then, and you glance at the crashing waters while Arthur rummages in Balius's saddle bags. 

"Where's Allbright?" You whisper, and Arthur shakes his head. 

"I don't know, n' I don't give a damn. I gotta get you fixed up." Arthur says, bringing you over a pile of clothes. They’re his, but they're all he has to work with. 

"I'll take you into town n' get you a bath. If we stay out here, you'll freeze." Arthur grumbles, placing the clothes on the ground before coming up in front of you. His hands quickly work on the buttons of your shirt, and you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against your frozen skin. You whimper, leaning against him to chase after his warmth. 

"Christ, Star. You're freezin'." 

He sounds worried. He is worried. You shake like a leaf as he pulls your shirt over your arms. The wet clothing hits the ground in a sop as he kneels on one knee to unbutton your jeans. He's not worried about modesty right now, Arthur is too panicked about your health. 

You wiggle your toes in your boots and shudder, realizing that you can barely feel the movements. Teeth clack together loudly as Arthur strips you of your jeans, eyebrows pulled together in concern. 

"I c-can't feel my t-toes." You whimper, worrying that you'll lose them or worse.

"You just hang on, just– I'll get you there. I will." It's a promise more to himself than to you. He pulls his oversized clothes over your trembling body, adding his thick blue coat to your shoulders before scooping you up wedding style. You yelp at the action as he helps you onto Balius's saddle. 

"Be good for me, boy. We gotta ride quick now." Arthur coos to his stallion before mounting up behind you. Your head lulls back against Arthur's chest as his arms wrap around you to grab the reins. At the mention of Balius, your eyes pop open wider and you search around for your mare. 

"Athena…" You whisper, just barely a breath. Arthur whistles sharply, and a whinny rings out alongside the sound of hooves. You relax at her call, knowing she'll follow Balius.

You can barely keep your eyes open as Arthur pushes Balius into a gallop. Arthur doesn't like it one bit, knowing that your best chance is to keep your eyes open. 

"Don't go fallin' asleep on me now. We'll be there soon." Arthur attempts a smile for your sake, but the worry in his voice is thick. 

You fight against every instinct to keep your eyes open. It would be so much easier to give in and let them fall shut. For Arthur's sake, you keep trying. 

"Look for Allbright…" You exhale quietly, "He c-could be on the shore." 

Arthur isn't surprised by your suggestion. Of course you haven't given up on the bounty. For you, he scans the shore, but it's your eyes that eventually lock on to the blue suited man. He's washed up on the shore, coughing and sputtering. 

"Goddamn you, bounty hunters!" Allbright yells at the sight of Arthur and you riding forward. Arthur's attention peaks to Allbright then, and a growl rumbles in his chest. 

"Get the bastard." You whisper, too weak to let out the hiss you want to. Arthur makes sure you're good and steady in the saddle before he dismounts. His hands rest on your thigh as he looks up to you. 

"Y'okay to sit without me? We can leave him here and get you to a–" Arthur begins before you interject. 

"I'm okay, just get him n' put him on Athena."

At your words, Arthur obliges, though he thinks it to be a damn stupid idea. He flips his gun out of his holster and swings it down over Allbright's head. The bastard is knocked out cold. His many layers and heavier stature seemed to have protected him mostly from the freezing water. Arthur doesn't give a damn about the man, only you. He whistles for Athena to step a little closer and hoists the bounty over her back behind the saddle. 

"Is Allbright gonna be okay?" You whisper, gripping onto Arthur tightly as he quickly climbs into Balius's saddle. 

"I ain't worried 'bout him." Arthur replies as he smacks the reins down over Balius's neck. He rides fast, galloping over the hills as fast as Balius can carry you both in the night. Your hands grow colder, stiffening around Arthur's jacket and making it harder to grip onto to. He notices this, of course, and his heart beats quicker. Your eyelids are heavy, the overwhelming, hardening cold creeping up your spine and down your bones. Everything stiffens and hurts, making the ride to Valentine a painful one. You yelp, wincing, and Arthur's arm tightens around you 

"Oh, baby, just hang on. We're almost there." Arthur whispers, despair thick in his voice. 

Arthur gets you there as quickly as he can manage, apologizing to you and Balius the whole way. You're both glad it's after dark once you arrive in town, as you still have a mighty price on your heads after the fiasco with Cornwall. Arthur ducks his head, keeping his eyes under his hat as he trots towards the hotel. Athena is right behind you both, still carrying Allbright. 

"How you feelin', darlin'?" Arthur whispers, pulling Balius up to the hitching post in front of the All Saints Hotel. You groan in response. The cold has seeped into your bones, tightening your muscles uncomfortably. Your muscles twitch and cramp under your frozen skin, and your toes and fingers are numb. 

"Tired." You admit, just over a whisper. Your eyes have fallen shut and you're leaning fully against Arthur's back at this point. You can hear his heart beating a few paces too fast with worry. He turns in the saddle and places a hand on your thigh to steady you before sliding down from his stallion. He hitches both horses, and turns to you. 

"C'mere." He calls up to you, hands up stretched to grab your waist. Arthur pulls you into his arms wedding style. You wince at every jolt as he carries you up the few stairs towards the hotel. You get a glance over Arthur's shoulder and see Allbright, still heaved over Athena's rump. Your eyebrows furrow as you look up at Arthur. 

"What about…" You take a deep breath, struggling to keep yourself awake, "Allbright?" 

Arthur readjusts you in his arms, turning around to push the door open with his back. 

"He ain't wakin' up anytime soon. I'll deal with him once I get you taken care of." Arthur replies, stepping backwards through the threshold before turning to the usual clerk. The man's eyes go wide as he takes in your state. 

"You got a bath drawn up?" Arthur asks, walking towards the hallway where the bathhouse is. He doesn't stop, carrying you down the hall as the clerk worriedly hollers 'Yes!' from behind you. 

Arthur pushes the door open with his back again, carrying you into the bathhouse. The bath is filled with steaming water, and you practically whimper at the sight of warmth. Arthur carefully places you on your feet, steadying you for a second with his hands on your shoulders. He eyes you up and down, making sure you're steady. 

"Y'okay to stand?" He asks as you sway slightly. You nod, and he steps away for a moment to grab a washcloth and a bar of soap from the little wooden table by the door. He places both on the small wooden slat overtop the bath as you attempt to pull Arthur's oversized clothes off of your body. Your numb fingers pull at the buttons, but they're too frozen to properly grasp the little articles. 

Arthur turns back to you, and in two long strides, he's in front of you again, brushing your hands away.  

"Let me." He murmurs, eyes downcast as he focuses on each button. He rids you of the shirt quickly, noticing the way your skin feels like ice. It only encourages his worry, and he works faster to unclothe you. 

Once you're bare before him, Arthur's hands find purchase on the small of your back and your arm, helping to steady you as you step into the tub. You grimace when your toe hits the water. The cold state of your skin makes the hot water feel boiling, it's downright painful. 

"I know, darlin', but it's the fastest way to warm you up." Arthur says, noticing your hesitation. You nod, stepping one leg into the hot water. It's painful, but bearable. Arthur lets you grip onto him as you lower yourself into the bath, groaning at the fiery sensation that ripples across your skin. 

"There you go." He whispers as you finally sit down fully. Your teeth chatter, and you pull your knees up to your chest in the sudsy water. Now it's just a waiting game. 

Arthur sits on the ground by your side, hand resting over yours on the lip of the tub. He watches you closely, taking note of your breathing and shivering. His thumb runs over your knuckles and you smile for it, but it's brief. You're still shivering, and goosebumps prick your skin all over. It's nothing short of miserable, and while the warm water has helped, you're too far gone for it to fully bring your temperature back to normal. 

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and when you glance over,Arthur is pulling his jeans down over his legs.

"Arthur…?" You ask, brow furrowing lightly. 

"I can't just sit and do nothin' no more. It's killin' me seein' you like this." Arthur explains, "Scooch forward for me, sweetheart."

You grip the sides of the metal tub, pulling yourself forward, just enough for Arthur to slide into the bath behind you. The mass of his body entering the tub causes water to spill out over the edges, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll slip the working ladies a few extra bucks for the mess. A large forearm wraps around your middle, and Arthur pulls your back flush against his chest in the water. His legs line yours, bodies fitting together like perfect pieces of a puzzle. 

“Better?” Arthur whispers, eyes worried as he splashes water over your shoulders with your hands. Guilt is eating him alive– Should he have let you come along? Did he get you here fast enough? 

You nod, easing his worries some. After a few moments, his body heat begins to work, melting the ice that clings to your frozen skin.  Your shivers reduce to slight chills,  and your lips turn from a sickening shade of blue back to that familiar pink.

“Y’know,  if you wanted to see me naked again, you coulda just asked,” You shiver, “Didn’t need to have Allbright throw me in the river.” You smirk, wit never leaving you, not even in dire situations.

“I’ll keep that in mind, darlin.” Arthur whispers, resting his chin atop your head, “You just warm up now, you hear?” His hands run up and down your arms as you nod, leaning fully back against him. His chest radiates a warmth that the water never could, and you groan as your body temperature begins to raise. 

“You think Allbright’s okay out there?” You whisper,  remembering that he’s currently strapped to Balius’s croup. Arthur chuckles from behind you. 

“Hope not– the bastard can rot for all I care.” Arthur huffs. 

“Arthur.” You chastise lightly, hand intertwining with his under the murky water. The chuckle in his throat dies down, allowing the air to become thick with unsaid words. 

“Almost lost ya…”  Arthur whispers. His eyes are far away, there's a lump in his throat.  

You almost died.  

“I’m okay, Arthur.” You reassure, squeezing his hand for good measure. He brings your intertwined hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He holds the kiss for a moment longer than he needs to. 

“Stay that way.” 

It’s a small plea, a few words, but a big admission. You’ve snuck your way into his heart, and he’ll be damned if the universe tries to pull you away now. He’ll do anything to keep you safe– a facet of information that’s beginning to haunt him. 

What will it take–?

What does that entail? 

It's something he’s been meaning to bring up for awhile. You’ve both had more near death experiences than any two people ever should.

Arthur presses a kiss to your wet hair,  humming lightly as he thinks over what the future may hold. He’ll bring it up. But first, you just need to rest.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know @rratman @eyelovie @mykneeshurt @myhomethesea @onedaymyhappinesswillcome

[luvkyu]

wadduh it me again but anon version😈 dowoon x 5th member male reader where dw has the biggest crush on reader (im delulu) and literally admires him during mv filmings, photoshoots or even just normal shit SO the other members notice this behaviour and teases him about it HAHAHAHAHAHA

so let's love ( yoon dowoon )

dowoon x male!reader

dowoon can't hide his definitely-not-platonic love for his bandmate.

content : 0.4k words, fluff, idol!dowoon x 5th member!reader

( a/n ) MMMMMM DAY6 ( i'm obsessed ) this is rly short im sorry,, i rewrote it like three times and im still not that satisfied with it but its FINE

"he's doing it again.." sungjin mumbled toward wonpil beside him.

"huh?"

"dowoon," sungjin clarified, "he's doing it again."

wonpil looked over at dowoon, who was a few feet away on the photoshoot set. the group was currently taking concept photos for their next album, and dowoon's gaze was stuck rather obviously on y/n.

"i don't know what else you expected," wonpil replied. "he's obsessed."

"who's obsessed?" younghyun chimed in after just getting his makeup touched up.

"dowoon."

"oh. with y/n?"

wonpil and sungjin nodded.

"then yes," younghyun agreed.

y/n continued to change poses and expressions in front of the camera. dowoon felt mesmerized. he was supposed to go after y/n, but he didn't know how well he'd do in front of the camera after watching y/n. he might as well have fallen in love all over again.

"yoon dowoon!"

dowoon snapped out of his trance. he looked over at the rest of his group with raised brows. the color on his face turned to a deep red as he realized they'd been watching him stare at y/n. sungjin waved him over, but dowoon almost felt like ignoring him. he knew the three were bound to tease him.

dowoon walked over to them after taking one more glance at y/n, who finally met dowoon's eyes and sent him a quick smile before looking back at the camera. dowoon felt his heart skip in his chest. he looked down at his feet as he walked before stopping in front of his friends.

"so when are you guys gonna kiss?" younghyun asked.

"never, at this point," wonpil answered.

dowoon blinked, "what?"

"tsk. you and y/n. we're waiting for you and y/n to finally get together," sungjin explained.

dowoon looked back at y/n one more time.

"what do you mean?"

small sighs and groans of disappointment sounded from the others.

"you suck at being subtle dowoon. make a move on y/n already," wonpil urged while sungjin and younghyun nodded along.

"i don't think he sees me that way," dowoon protested a bit shyly.

"shut up, you two are basically each other's favorites."

"there's no way he doesn't like you too."

"dowoon, respectfully, open your fucking eyes."

dowoon continued to watch y/n as his bandmates talked. he really hoped they were right.