#but whatever he's doing i hope he's happy with it

[chastiefoul]

waking them up with kisses

ft. nanami, gojo, sukuna, toji short, fluff, light-hearted. honestly such a word-vomit, written while i was half asleep. but hey hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! slightly suggestive on gojo

nanami

there’s a slight smile on his face by the third time your lips made contact with his skin, yet he showed no of being awake to you, who’s still oblivious to his subtle change of expression as you kept peppering soft kisses across his cheekbone. finally a low chuckle escaped him, he just couldn’t help it. “good morning to you too, my love,” he muttered, pulling you who’s still in his arms closer. the warmth of your body as he embraced you sent an unexplainable ticklish feeling to his stomach.

“seriously, it took so many kisses to wake you up,” you said lightly, brushing the strand of his blond hair. such a weird sensation, to be this giddy right after you woke up, but it’s one nanami welcomed so openly. “hmm, i might need even more to be fully awake,” he replied with a teasing smile, closing his eyes. you felt his leg tangling with yours, there wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t touching yours. like a cat snuggling for warmth.

your hand couldn’t keep itself still, moving from his hair to his cheek. running along your thumb gently across his lashes, and the man suddenly fluttered them open. there wasn’t anything except love as he gazed at you so softly, grabbing your hand as he planted a kiss on your palm. all of it just felt so right, and you couldn’t help but wish that time ticked slower in small moments like this.

gojo

a big grin made its way to his face almost immediately when you started showering the man with kisses. his hair messy from sleep as he lied down, surrendering himself to your attacks; he laughed genuinely, the beautiful sound made you more determined. the mere expression of him being that happy brought you the same if not more amount of joy.

when you finally pulled away there’s a satisfied smile on his face as he opened his eyes. “best morning ever,” he said, pulling you close to his chest, forcing you to rest your head there as you listened to his steady heartbeat. “that’s what you said last time too when i woke you up with a head,” you bantered, there’s a lightness in your chest. he chuckled once more.

“well every morning i start by seeing your face is the best one baby, couldn’t help it,” he muttered, very lightly pinching your cheek as he said this. he then raised your chin with a finger, making you look up at him as he kissed your lips sweetly, moving slowly at the beat of his own drums as he pecked the outer corner of your mouth, and then your cheek. and then there’s just pure mischief on his eyes.

“my turn now!”

sukuna

sukuna indulged himself in a few more of your gentle touches on his face, the softness of it almost made him felt like he was out of place. yet he couldn’t help it, savoring each of your kiss as to making sure he won’t get used to it. finding wonders to every of your move as he cherished it so.

“i’m awake,” he mumbled, thinking it’ll stop you from doing it. but when your response was just to give you more of it he couldn’t help but blinked awake; the sight of you smiling down at him almost made his heart burst. “morning!” you said sweetly, resting the palm of your hand on his bare chest.

“i’m already exhausted looking at your energized-self on the first light of the day,” he claimed, covering your hand with his. “well, we have a date today, of course i’m excited,” you said, the exuberance was apparent on your voice. sukuna looked like he was thinking for a moment before making you lie back down on his arms.

“let me sleep a little longer, then we will do whatever it is that  you want.”

toji

“what’s got you so chirpy, hm?” he had an lazy smile on his face, eyes still closing. his calm expression betraying the giddy feeling in his chest; you were so fucking cute, what’s a man supposed to do? once again you planted a kiss on his lips, right on his scar. there it was again, the damn itch on his chest he couldn’t scratch.

“nothing, just happy,” you replied, drawing random patterns on his chest. “yeah?” he brought you closer with the hand that’s still wrapped around your waist. you nodded happily, snuggling closer to his neck.

toji thought words such as forever or eternity was bullshit until that moment, until he's got you tightly in his hold; all safe and cozy without a care in the world. yet in that split second he wanted it to be true. y’know, just to humor him a little.

“if i didn’t know any better i woulda thought you won a lottery or something.”

but it would be wrong. since he already won it when he met you.

[whisperofwonder]

Wife Guy

The wife guys of Haikyuu

(The term does have some negative connotations but I don't mean it like that here. They're just some dudes who really love their wife. Cool? Cool.)

Featuring: Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kiyoomi x wife!reader - ~300 words each

(if someone else needs to be here, tell me. I might write it.)

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

Come on. He's the ultimate unironic wife guy.

You, his wife, are the light of his life. He adores you. He doesn't shut up about you. Your friends and family know this, the Jackals definitely know this, even his fans know this because he can't resist posting about you even when the social media managers get on his case. The moment your name or the words "my wife" pass his lips, anyone within earshot knows that it's all over.

He never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you. You need to know that, in his eyes, every little thing about you is perfect. Not only that, but he's a really touchy guy. He loves holding your hand, putting his arm around you, barraging you with kisses, any form of skin to skin contact with you. You and everyone around you have gotten used to the constant PDA over the years. He's just so pure and sweet about it that no one can even say a thing about it.

One of the things he loves about being a professional athlete is that it gives him the means to spoil you. Designer items, the latest tech, lush vacations, whatever it is that catches your eye, he's already got his credit card out. He's not trying to buy your love, he's showering you in his. No matter how often you insist that all you need to be happy is him, he can't resist a little treat every now and then.

The day you agreed to marry him was one of the best days of his life. Every time he takes notice of the ring on his finger, a little jolt of joy goes through him, even after all this time. The mere fact that he gets to spend the rest of his life loving you is simply unmatched.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

There's a reason that Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer is written as a knight in every single medieval AU. He's chivalrous, hard-working, and utterly devoted to his wife. He might be quieter about it, but his love for you is an undercurrent to everything. From the kiss pressed to your forehead when he gets up to start the day to the moment he pulls you against his chest in bed each night, there are a hundred little moments when he shows just how much you mean to him.

Most obvious to everyone around him is the small smile that comes across his face every single time he talks about you. "Oh, my wife picked it out." "Yeah, she did make this." "I'm taking her to dinner tonight, actually."

You will never walk closest to the street on his watch. Forgot your jacket? No you didn't, he tossed it in the back seat. When you're washing dishes after dinner, he's right there with the towel to dry. Craving ice cream at 10 pm? The corner store is only a few minutes walk for him, no it's no trouble, don't be ridiculous. It all just goes to show that he's constantly thinking of you - what you might need, what you might want, what might make you smile. If it's within his power, why wouldn't he do it for you? It's just inconceivable.

You make his life better. All he wants is to do the same for you. He might never say it out loud, but being married to you is the fairy tale life he hadn't dared to hope for. Spending every day by your side is enough to make him the happiest man in the world.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

His wife is his person. The world is full of irritants, uncomfortable situations, people who rub him the wrong way. You are the one that soothes it all away. His safe space. Coming home to you every day feels like a weight sliding from his shoulders.

He took to the simple day-to-day of married life so well. Dating was never his scene. Truth be told, you've felt married long before he put a ring on your finger. Everyone says the pair of you are the token old married couple. He might scoff, but to him it's the best kind of compliment.

He takes real pride in the home you share together. It's a sacred place that deserves to be kept neat and clean and comfortable. No matter what kind of day he has, he'll always spend at least a little time making sure everything is running smoothly for you, keeping up with the small things that he knows make your life a little easier.

His favorite moments are the quiet ones you share together. When either of you has had a less than perfect day, it's an unspoken rule that you'll be spending the evening together, curled up in your own little world where nothing else matters. Nothing is more comforting to him than the feel of you in his arms, breathing in your familiar scent. Everything else simply melts away.

Marrying you was the easiest decision he's ever made. There was no alternative. In the course of his life, he knows that he's doing something right, because with you by his side, he knows he can face anything else that may come.

[just-some-random-blogger]

HAPPY NEW YEAR IN MID JANUARY! I HOPE EVEYTHING HAS BEEN AMAZING WITH YOUUU AND WILL CONTINUE TO BE <3

i bet the wedding was amazing but also a relief to be over now <3 slayed. also you telling me you peaked, as if this was an exam HAHHAHAH. PEAK TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT 😋 i dont believe in spoilers. you do you boo <3

What will it take for my poor girl to not have to beg for someone to love her and be considerate to her.

😬 death prolly

im gonna be honest with you, when i was writing the scene with her and caraxes, i wasnt trying to make it look like she wanted to kill herself... in all honesty, i dont think she was. i think she was mostly like 'if i cant have daemon, ill have caraxes' and then at some point she was like lmao this is a dragon 😆 i could get killed HAHAHAH

also HAHAA DAEMON ACCUSING HER OF INCEST HAHAHH NO CUZ WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY. tbf i think daemons just irrationally jealous of everyone. if she ever gets pregnant i dont think his first thought would be 'ah yes you fucked your twin brother' it would be like 'ah yes you fucked someone else because ive been pulling out' yknow

LAUGHING AT ARRYK IS REAL BUT ALSO FOULLLLLL. he loves herrr 🥺 dont be meannnnn

MEDIEVAL DNA TEST HAHAHAHAH. bestie i dont think daemon is smart enough to put one and one together

Oh my god Arryk stop tattling on my boy Caraxes like that. He was just trying to show some affection and protectiveness!!! It's not his fault that years of bonding with daemon also turned him a little dense and emotionally constipated like his master

;KAGHSFLHA'LSFHL'HASFHSA I LOVE HOW IVE HAD PEOPLE GO AFTER ARRYK FOR TATTLING HAHAHHAHHAHAHAH. HE WAS A WOUNDED PUPPP. also the insinuation caraxes is emotionally constipated because daemon is 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 YOURE SO BIG BRAINED FOR THAT!!!!!!!! I kinda hate that for caraxes though. i 10000000% will be diving into caraxes and yn relationshippp ))))):

The way I 100% believe that the foundation of the brothers' relationship is that daemon will ALWAYS do the exact opposite of viserys tells him so the fact that he told daemon to return to his lady wife, it will lead him to run as far away from her as possible (aka stepstones)

💯 no notes

[...] WHAT THEY COULDVE BEEN IF DAEMON WASNT SO DENSE AND THICK AND STUPID AND UGHHHHHHH

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THIS FUCKER TO RECEIVE THERAPY FROM BRAAVOS OR WHATEVER BECAUSE HIS UNRESOLVED CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND THE LACK OF PARENTAL LOVE HE RECEIVED IS GOING TO DESTROY THE MC AND I CANNOT STAND FOR IT I WILL DIE

and you're so right

FUCK YOU FUCK THE WHOLE TSRGARYEN DYNASTY YOU FILTHY LYING WHORE OF A DRAGON RIDER GO FUCK MYSARIA IN A WIG AND CALL OUT YOUR WIFES NAME AND TELL HER YOU WANT HER BECAUSE YOURE TOO SCARED TO SAY IT TO YOUR WIFE AND GO TO THE SHITTY STEPSTONES SURROUNDED BY NOTHING BUT UGLY LOOKING PIRATES FOR THREE WHOLE YEARS WITH SHITTY FOOD AND SHITTY WINE KJHGRRYVHBEBN LTLV

I LOVE THE FACT IT HURT COS IT HURT ME FR WHEN I WROTE THIS I WAS CRYING TOO HAHAHHHAH. IF I DONT CRY WRITING IT, I DONT THINK ITS ANGSTY ENOUGH BESTIE. YOU PROLLY CRIED COS OUR BRAINS ARE LIKE THIS 🤞🤞🤞

UGH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I LOVE HOW YOU GET ME AND MY PARALELLS AND MY ANGST AND UGHHHHHHHHHHHH KISS YOU SO MUCHHH

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[sturmatt]

Soft Launching??

Paring: Logan Sargeantx Singer!reader

Summary: You Started Sof Launching your relationship but no one even knew you had a bf.

faceclaim: Lexi Jayde

a/n: Sooo This is my first ever fanfic or whatever pls pls I'm not good at this pls like it or don't idk I'm trying something new.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 770,341 others

oliviajayde: A week in my life

tagged: lilyzneimer oscarpiastri mack01

view all 7,006 comments

user1: your smile 🥺🥺

user2: NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC

oscarpiastri: I look good

oliviajayde: I Still think Lily is better looking than you

user4: So is no one going to talk about the guy in the 3rd and 4th slide?????

user5: Since when did liv have a whole-ass boyfriend wtf

user6: logan??? what are you doing here

user7: okay but lily and oscar in the last photo is soo cutee

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ logansargeant has added to their story

[caption: giving you all the flowers]

replies:

user1: WHAT IS THIS LOGAN????

oliviajayde: you're so cute🥺

logansargeant: Only for you my love

oscarpiastri: gross

logansargeant: shut up u big baby acting like you don't do this with lily

user2: okay mr. american

user3: Since when wtf

user4: stopp this is so cute ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by user3, alex_albon, oliviajayde, and 1,283,123 others

logansargeant: my second favorite thing to wake up to nowadays

view all 40,193 comments

user1: Since when did you get a dog??

alex_albon: YOU HAVE A DOG WHAT I NEED TO MEET THEM NOW

loganseargent: we just got her chill

user2: WE?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE!!

oliviajayde: Awww she's soo cute what's her name

logansargeant: Her name is Goldie My gf picked it out

oliviajayde: Your gf seems wonderful

user3: I'm still hooked on the Caption like what do you mean SECOND FAVORITE?????

user3: So basically he just confirmed he's dating someone and they got a whole-ass dog together wtf

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by logansargent, alex_albon, user10, and 834,244 others

oliviajayde: Happy 2 years to my american. Love you lots my love

comments have been limited

logansargeant: Happy 2 years my love.

alex_albon: FINALLY IT'S OUT I'M FREE

oscarpiastri: Finally You guys decided to annouce it

(hope to make more if you want more let me know It's my first one so it's not good.)

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi I saw you wanted requests for older!eddie/sugar daddy!eddie and I have ideas! It’s a little sad so I’m sorry about that. Happy ending tho!

I can picture Eddie looking for a sugar baby because he’s had so much trouble with women in the past. He was always an outcast and he has a hard time believing someone wants to spend time with him. You’d been friendly (maybe like coworkers or neighbors) and when he offers the arrangement at first your like “you don’t need to pay me to spend time with you I like you” and you help him see how wonderful he is and show him how attractive he is.

Or alternatively (and way more smutty), you match on a sugar daddy/sugar baby site or chatroom or whatever and you and him have crazy good chemistry and then when you send him pics he’s like- holy shit it’s you the girl he’s been crushing on forever. Or maybe he doesn’t know you irl and the reader is a cam girl and Eddie pays for private zoom calls and you’re so surprised cause omg this client is so hot.

cw: MDNI (18+) Eddie receives a handjob, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

Eddie’s definitely the first to admit that he doesn’t have great luck in the dating department. He’s been on more dates than he can count, but for whatever reason, it never goes past more than one.

He doesn’t get it. He’s got the money and he thought the ladies loved that kind of thing. He’s even offered to buy them whatever they want, but that never seems to work as they often think he’s just flashing his wealth at them.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. He’s not asking for much either. He just wants someone who he can spend time with, someone he can spoil because he’s got more money that he knows what do with.

So when Steve and Robin suggest that he become a sugar daddy, he immediately thinks that’s the answer. It seems like the perfect arrangement. He gets what he wants and there’s no actual attachment. He just doesn’t know who he’d offer it up to.

When he sees you at your desk when he heads to his office, he decides you’re the perfect candidate. He’s constantly heard you complain about your financial situation to other girls in the building and has even seen you eyeing an expensive bag on your computer when he’s passed your desk.

He’s nervous when he finds you in the elevator on Monday morning. He was hoping at least a few extra minutes, but he supposes that this is as good a place as any since it’s just the two of you and no one is there to possibly eavesdrop.

You greet him politely like you always do and he greets you back in his awkward manner and then the rest of the ride to the top floor is quiet, so much so that you could definitely hear a pin drop.

He’s staring at you and he knows it’s creepy, but he can’t help it. You’re just so pretty in your dress pants and blazer, your makeup done so flawlessly. You always look so professional for work and he admires that about you.

He’d by lying if he said that he didn’t have a tiny crush on you. Okay, huge. The second you stepped foot into his office to interview for the position last year, he was taken aback by you. Not only did he think you were beautiful, but he also admired how smart and funny you were. So you were attractive and completely qualified for the position. Surely there had to be a catch in there somewhere, but there wasn’t. Your were just perfect.

But he hasn’t told anybody. He can’t. So he just bottles up his feelings and only lets them out with a sock and bottle of lotion when he gets home. He knows you probably (definitely) be grossed out by that so he doesn’t do it nearly as much anymore, just when he really needs the release.

Eddie’s not the most social person. In fact, the three years you’ve been working for the company, he can easily count on his hand how many times you’ve had a conversation that wasn’t about work. Sure, at first, you were an intern on an entirely different floor so he never saw you, but now he sees you five days a week so what’s his excuse?

What he doesn’t know, which is surprising since you’ve tried to make it very obvious, is that you like him too. And why wouldn’t you? Not only is he hot and a very rich CEO of a company, but he’s also so intelligent. You can see it when you listen to him during meetings. You’re supposed to be taking notes, and you do, sometimes, but really, most times you’re scribbling “y/n Munson” onto the page like a school girl. You’re so in love with him that sometimes, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

He’s beginning to think that’s maybe this is a bad idea, wondering if he should just find a sugar baby online. He’s older than you by fifteen years and he’s also your boss which wouldn’t look so good. But he’s speaking before he can stop himself so there’s no going back now.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says and you turn to him in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing.

“And what would that be?” You ask and you can see that he’s visibly nervous. He talks to so many celebrities on the daily and you’re the one who makes him nervous? That has never made sense to you.

“You can absolutely say no, but I just wanted to offer it up to you if you’re interested.” Now your interest is piqued. Is finally going to ask you to fuck him like you’ve been fantasizing about for years?

“What is it, Mr. Munson?” God, why does you calling him that always make him so fucking hard?

You’re looking at him with concern now, your hand on his shoulder as you step closer, so close that if he moves just a few inches, he could-no, he’s definitely not doing that.

“I-well-as you know, I have a lot of money.” You laugh at that. He’s one of the richest men in the world, of course he has money.

“Right,” you nod, wanting him to proceed. You’re on the edge of your seat, desperate to know what he wants to ask you and why he won’t just come out and say it.

“And it’s come too much for me to handle so I need someone to spend it on, a companion.”

“Okay,” you drag out the word, still unsure as to why he’s telling you this. You’re just his assistant.

“And I’d like that someone to be you.” Your eyes widen at his words. Surely you didn’t hear him right. There’s no way that he wants to give you some of his money. That just doesn’t make any sense. “I can provide you with anything you want or need. Rent? Done. Clothes, shoes, even if you just want some extra cash. But in return, I would like you to spend time with me.”

You’re staring at him like he’s got three heads so he’s quick to backtrack. He really doesn’t want to upset you. “But that’s not a requirement. If you just want the money-“

“Mr. Munson, that is so generous,” you cut him off, your other hand moving up to his other bicep as you step even closer, pulling him forward as you bring your lips to his ear. “But you don’t have to pay me to spend with you. I already like you.” You press a lingering kiss to his cheek then flee the elevator as the doors open.

He’s following you, hurrying to catch up with you. Instead of heading to your desk, though, you’re entering his office, looking back at him with a flirty look.

You open the door and hold it for him before letting it slam closed and locking it. When you turn, he’s all the way across the room, trying to make sense of what’s happening, but he just can’t.

He’s loosened his tie and his hair is even more of a mess than it usually is. You make your way over to him, taking him by the hands and pulling to you and wrapping his arms around your waist while your hands wind into his hair, giving his scalp and little scratch before pulling his head forward. Your lips slowly press to his and he gasps into your mouth before slowly melting into you.

You’re kissing him hungrily and he’s matching your energy as this is something that the two of you have wanted for so long. It’s everything you could have imagined and more, his lips just as soft as you had pictured.

Your tongue quickly swipes along his bottom lip as you push him against the window. He lets you inside and can’t stop himself from moaning. You swear you’re to come just from hearing it and once you press your body to his, you can see he’s already one step ahead on you as you feel his rock hard cock pressing against you.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” You ask and he whines, unable to get the words come out of his mouth as he nods enthusiastically.

You hurry over to his desk and look through his drawers until you find a bottle of lotion that you’re sure if for the exact purpose to lucky you. You then unbuckle his pants and pull them and his underwear down, his rock hard cock coming into view. You pump some of the lotion into your hand then go to town, pumping his his cock hard as he pressed himself even harder against the window, trying to grab onto whatever he can as a loud moan falls from his lips.

You slap your free hand over his mouth and his eyes flutter shut as pleasure courses through him. He’s sure he’s going to come any second.

“That’s it. Just like that,” you encourage him. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll clean you up.” He mumbles something against your hand and before you’re about to ask him what it is, there’s a loud knock at the door, the two of you staring at it in fear as you pull away quickly, letting Eddie put his pants back.

“We can continue this at my place tonight,” you wink. “I’ll message you my address, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods as you make your way to the door as Eddie heads towards his desk, sitting behind it to hide is still very hard cock.

You unlock and open the door and sure enough, Steve is standing on the other side of it, looking between you and Eddie curiously. As you head out of the office with your head low to hide your smile, all Steve can think about is how he owes Robin twenty dollars.

taglist: @the-witty-pen-name @k-yurieee

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[gothghostiie]

Hello! I looove your work, and I had a thought on like a cod firefighter au??? It would kinda be like a scent kink thing I guess... Please feel free to ignore this completely if it makes you uncomfortable at all!!!!!

Ok so, when firefighters come back from a fire they REEK of smoke and chemicals and stuff and honestly it makes me think of two different scenarios:

Scenario 1: cod man gets home from a fire and this man is smelly. Butttt you're so excited he's home and you're just all over him, burying your face in his neck, licking the grime and sweat off of his torso- all of it. Just obsessed with him, his smell, and the fact that he's alive and healthy.

Scenario 2: (Ngl, this one makes me think of your bully!soap). Okay, cod man gets home and you're happy he's home, happy he's safe, but you beg him to go shower because yuck. He finds how grossed out you are funny or something, and it leads to some deviant activities... Such as being stuck with your face buried in his armpit as he drills you from whatever position and makes fun of you. Or grabs your hair and makes you huff his scent from his crotch before he encourages you to suck him off. That kinda stuff.

With either scenario I can just imagine reader getting dizzy off of the smells and stuff and it's just- yeah.

Anyways! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and I hope you have a wonderful day/night! Remember to stay hydrated and eat good food :)

have the greatest day and take care of yourself lovie🫶🏻 and i LOOOOVE this and ill be damned if that isnt bully!soap as your boyfriend bc c'mon. you don't seriously think he'd stop being a bully just because hes your boyfriend now, right?

cw: bully!soap is his own warning, CNC, scent kink, facesitting, gn!reader

It's natural and normal that he sweats when he's at work, considering his profession. it's normal for you that he smells a little funky when coming home, but today? today he just reeks for some reason. he comes home and hugs you, kissing your head, you scrunch up your face and push him off slightly. his brows furrow and he almost pouts, holding you tighter. "the hell are you doing?" he asks, you frown softly, tell him to plesse just shower really quick, he can get all the hugs and kisses he wants after, just get washed up.

its needless to say this turned on you the second the words left your lips.

hes grinning, grip on you tightening. "what, y'dont like the smell of a workin' man? a man providing for ya?" he scoffs playfully as you try to squirm out of his big, calloused hands, his grip only tightens. "can't even fuckin' handle a little bit of me huh? might have to help ya get used to it, aye?" your eyes widen at the implications. you know you're in for it now. he picks you up with ease, hands under your ass, you wrap your legs around his waist for support. with a devious grin on his face he carries you into your bedroom, dropping you on the soft bed unceremoniously. his hands fiddle with his pants as you think about your poor sheets, before you even realise it he's already crawling over you in just his underwear. you can't even speak up to ask him what he's doing as his thighs find home on either side of your head, you see him grin down at you before he sits down, planting himself firmly on your poor face. you make a protesting noise, being forced to breathe in his musky scent, the sweat of a long day of work. you cry out, hands grabbing at his thighs, he laughs at you.

"what's the matter babe? don't like your own boyfriend's smell? that's devastating." he says, his tone mocking as he rocks his hips slightly, making sure to really rub it in. you cry out again, nails digging into his skin, trying to somehow get him to get off your face, even if you know the attempts are for nothing. he laughs, patting your hands gently, shaking his head even if you can't see it. "y'really dont like having to endure that do ya? want me to get up off that pretty little face?" the offer is almost too good to be true, you don't even think before nodding; only when you hear his deep chuckle you know he already has another thing to put you through.

he ruts his hips sharply one more time, his semi twitching before he lifts his hip, staying knelt down. you gasp for air, sputtering with a proper pout on your face, it makes him laugh. he pats your cheek briefly, cooing at you. "poor fuckin' thing, can't even handle that, hm?" he chuckles, his hands going to his underwear, pulling it off off him with skilled movements, never getting off of you. you whimper, pressing your lips together, expecting him to shove his filthy cock into your mouth - but no. one hand grabs your face, the other bunches up his underwear. "open up. now." his tone leaves no room for argument, neither does the harsh grip on your face, forcing your mouth open. you whimper in defeat, jaw going slack, he smiles. "there ya go.. thats my baby.." he says softly, genuine affection in his voice, despite what he's doing to you. his other hand forces the bunched up fabric into your mouth, making you gag briefly.

"there there.." he chuckles, patting your head like a dog. "don't worry, gonna distract ya." finally, he gets off your face, you blink at him with teary eyes, letting him have his way as his taste fills your mouth. his hands undress you with a surprising gentleness, caressing and squeezing softly as he smiles down at you. his touch stays gentle even as he pushes his cock into you slowly, inch by inch as you moan, heat rising all throughout your body as muffled moans fill the room. he smiles down at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead as he bottoms out - thats the last bit of gentleness he gives you before putting his weight on you, immediately humping you like hes in heat. your eyes widen, moans growing more frequent and louder, mixing in with his low grunts and skin slapping against skin.

it takes a few moments before you let yourself relax into the brain melting fuck, but by now you should know better than to trust your boyfriend like that. a strong hand grips the back of your head, before you can even open your eyes your face is forced into his damp, unshaven armpit. you yelp, hands trying to push him off, but he just laughs once again, keeping you held there as his thrusts get firmer, knocking the breath out of you, forcing you to breathe him in.

"gonna keep ya like this 'til you learn to fucking love it.."

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

[Rach: Why didn’t you get his number?] Iris: The entire conversation was five minutes. He was gone before I even thought about it. Besides, I spent half the time talking to his dog. He probably thought I was a weirdo.

[Rach: If he’s a dog person, he probably loved it.] Iris: Who knows. [Rach: Do you think you’ll run into him again?] Iris: Doubt it. I’m here almost every morning and I’ve never seen him before. He was just in the area for the vet clinic.

[Rach: Hmm. So, in theory, if you do see him again, it’s because he’s hoping to run into you.] Iris: [scoffs] Yeah, I’m not gonna hold my breath.

Iris: Shit. [Rach: What?] Iris: He’s here. What do I do? [Rach: Um, hang up the phone and go say hi?] Iris: Right. Okay. I’ll see you soon. Bye.

Iris: Hi. Ezra: Good morning. Iris: How’d Milo’s appointment go? Ezra: Great, he got a clean bill of health. More importantly, you were right about the biscuits, he was very happy. Iris: [smiles] Good.

Barista: What can I get for you? Ezra: An oat milk latte… and whatever she’s having. Iris: Oh, um, a macchiato.

Iris: Why did you do that? Ezra: It’s just a thing I do sometimes, buying coffee for the person behind me. Iris: [skeptical] Why?

Ezra: [shrugs] To brighten their day, and hope they’ll pay it forward. Iris: Making the world a better place, one coffee at a time? Ezra: Something like that.

Iris: You should be careful about that. Ezra: How so? Iris: You might give someone the wrong impression. You don’t want them thinking you’re interested if you’re not.

Ezra: I’ll admit, I am usually more discreet about it than I was today. Iris: Oh? Ezra: I have some time before I have to be to work. I was thinking about grabbing a table outside and enjoying the nice weather if you’d like to join me. Iris: Um… sure. I have about thirty minutes to spare. Ezra: I’ll take it.

--

Iris: So, what do you do, Ezra? Ezra: I’m a teacher. Brindleton Bay High. Iris: [sarcastic] Go Huskies. Ezra: [laughs] Right.

Iris: Did you go to that school? Ezra: No, I just moved here a few years ago. Iris: That’s good. I don’t trust people who choose to work at the same high school they went to. Ezra: Why’s that?

Iris: Too many memories. Seems you’d be haunted by the past every time you walked down the halls. Personally, I don’t think I could ever step foot in that building again. Ezra: You were a husky? Iris: [nods] Born and raised in the Bay. Ezra: There are worse places.   Iris: I suppose.

Iris: What do you teach? Ezra: Biology. Tenth Grade. Iris: Yikes. Must be awful. Ezra: You’d think so, but I love it.  

Iris: Hm. Tell me, do you still make kids dissect frogs? Ezra: Every year. Iris: Horrific. Ezra: Let me guess, you were one of the students that refused, taking a moral stance?

Iris: Oh, I didn’t just refuse, I organized a protest. Got half the school to walk out. We were on the local news. Ezra: You were quite the activist. Iris: Hardly. I was just bored. And I was trying to get the attention of a boy I liked who happened to be vegan.

Ezra: Did it work? Iris: It did, for a while. Ezra: What happened? Iris: He caught me devouring a hamburger at the mall with my friends. Turns out I’m not cut out for the long con.

Ezra: I’d say that’s a good thing. Unless you’ve improved since then? Iris: No. I gave up on lying. It’s exhausting. If anything, I’m too honest. People don’t like it, but [shrugs]. Ezra: I like honesty. Iris: Me too.

Iris: Shit, you get oat milk in your latte. You’re not vegan, are you? Ezra: No, just lactose intolerant. Iris: Thank god. Not that I’d care if you were, but I have a habit of saying the wrong thing and I worried I’d embarrassed myself. Ezra: No no, not at all.

Iris: Good. Well, um, thank you for the coffee. I have to go or I’m going to be late for work. Ezra: Wait, you didn’t tell me what you do. Iris: I guess we’ll have to do this again tomorrow then. That is, unless you’re secretly married, in which case, I’m not interested in some weird coffeeshop affair. Ezra: [laughs] No. Divorced, and very much single.

Iris: In that case, if tomorrow goes well, I might let you ask me out on a proper date.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hey, i just saw that your requests are open! Do you think i could have a relationship headcanons list or a oneshot of 2012 Michelangelo x reader with ADHD?

You Both Have ADHD (Fluff)

2012!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: I decided to do headconons instead of a oneshot🧡 I myself have ADHD, but I’ve not yet been in a relationship with someone who also have ADHD, so I’m not sure how that actually would work. So this is more of a quess of how that might be able to work. Hope you’ll enjoy🧡

Warnings: ADHD, trying to be explained by a person with ADHD heh. Kinda hard to do.

You and Mikey called it a match made in heaven. The two of you understood everything the other one was going through. Every moment of forgetfulness, every moment of spacing out, sudden moments of energy spikes and energy drops, the sudden paralyzation that caused either one or both of you to be bedridden, hours on end, feeling like you were stuck in this big black hole with no way out… Only to suddenly perk up, having been watched over with some sort of inspiration, before running off to do whatever you had been inspired to do.

If you asked Mikey’s family, they considered you a gift to the world. You did so much to help Mikey in his everyday life, teaching him some of the hacks you had learned, in order to get through your own challenges. Many of them worked like a charm, while others took a little more time to perfect. But nonetheless, you were a big help to Mikey and his brothers, and they couldn’t be happier that he had found someone like you.

There was no doubt in anybody’s minds that Mikey was just as ADHD as you. So it was very nice and calming and relieving for Mikey, to finally learn how his head was working, and to learn it from a person who had been struggling with the same exact thing.

But as much as Mikey’s brothers were happy that you were there, to help their brother understand how his own head worked, there were times where yours and Mikey’s hyperactivity seemed to build on each other, and those days could quickly become unbearable for them, if you and Mikey wasn’t given some sort of space to let it out. That would usually be the dojo or Mikey’s own bedroom. At times you would even go to your place.

You and Mikey would sometimes stim together. Vocal stimming being one of the biggest ones. It wasn’t uncommon to hear you and Mikey communicate in small sounds, either spoken next to each other, or just being yelled from across the room, with no other reason than to hear where the other person was, or to get a vibe check. It was kinda cute, even if the people around you that would be witness to it, might get very confused.

[respectthepetty]

Each week I write that I won’t focus on whatever is happening with Yellow Yal Arm and Red Rascal Arc’s colors, so in the thirteenth episode, I’m telling myself the same thing since, once again, I got bigger fish to fry!

Like these two and their kinks!

And these two and their toxic relationship with its back and forth breaking up and fighting, which shocks me since Black Brooder Klao is lightening up because of Warit.

But most importantly, Green Guy Gun is in love with Black Brooder Yotha since he keeps wearing Yotha’s black.

Yet there is a divide between them as beautifully emphasized by the background of their room.

Luckily, Green Guy Gun has color-coded friends to support him: his bestie Kong who is a Blue Boy, Franc, the Pink Person, and Book being whatever color that is.

And I can't forget about Yotha’s Blue Boy brother, Faifa!

Who he’ll really need since the beautifully colored scene is about to crush us all.

Including our usually chill and jovial Green Guy.

Look at how he turns red sitting next to the boy who has kissed him several times AND HIS EX!

And look at Arc be red, as he should be because he is a Red Rascal. I don’t know what is happening with Arm, but back to the drama!

And boy oh boy is it some drama as Warit emerges from the red exit.

These two are back on their color-coded bullshit.

And these two have to witness it BEFORE ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!

Green Guys are too chill because Gun asked Yotha not to go out, watched Yotha kiss his ex, sat at the dinner with them, watched everyone get punched because Yotha is ghosting girls, then cleans Yotha up, and doesn’t even pop off like a bottle of Champagne at a bridal shower. Like . . . my dude! Get upset!

Even him moving away from Yotha was so soft that it hurt me because he still wasn’t trying to hurt Yotha. He never wants to hurt Yotha!!!!

So thank goodness for Yotha’s brothers stepping in when they did because I think Gun would have cried on the spot if he thought he was hurting Yotha more.

Faifa is the best Blue Boy for getting Gun to admit that Gun doesn’t even feel like he can be upset since he is in a situationship with Yotha and doesn’t feel like he has any right to get mad. Look at how that Blue Boy looks at him! He is going to be mad for him!

And now a chill Green Guy Gun is caught in the middle of a Black Brooder and a Blue Boy, and although I don’t like that both of them told Gun to be quiet, I do appreciate that Faifa is going IN on Yotha because Gun would never. Gun doesn’t believe he should be upset, so Faifa is making sure that Yotha knows someone is upset, and it’s him!

Side quest: WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH THEIR COLORS?!

Oh, thank goodness, Arc is packing red clothing. All is well. There is hope for these two!

And there is hope for these two too.

Yotha is lucky that his brother is a Blue Boy and not a Red Rascal because he would have murdered him the second he walked back into that room.

But the color-coded crew is coming through and making sure their Green Guy is protected at all times.

AND YOTHA IS FINALLY WEARING GREEN!!!!!

I know Blue Boy Sand and Green Guy Po, I’m shocked too! Yotha is in love with Gun and wearing his color! HE FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT!

And now he is sitting on a green bench trying to plan how to get Gun back while realizing he just doesn’t want his roommate back, but his future boyfriend back! OH HEAVENS YES!

Arm wearing blue is messing up my happy mood, but it’s okay because Yotha isn’t in full black! He is lightening up! He is showing his feelings! HE IS IN LOVE!

Arc in red is all I need to remember that Arc and Arm were consistently color-coded during their portion of this show, and that the wardrobe department was probably fighting for its life during this show.

And now we end here, with Yotha, the lightest he has been so far, matching colors with Gun, and I’m thrilled.

And not just because I get to see Tawan again next episode!

[marie-swriting]

Lucky - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Summary : Bradley comes home from a six months deployment and you two cannot stay away from each other.

Warnings : Minors please do not interact as this one shot has more sexual themes than usual, though there is no smut, fluff, marriage proposal, happy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2.9k

French version (will be published 26/01/2025 at 9pm)

Song inspiration : So High School by Taylor Swift

“Class dismissed.” you state to your students who barely hide their joy. “Don’t forget your paper on Aristotle and Nicomachean Ethics for next Friday. You can send it by email or hand it to me in class, I don’t care, just don’t be late.”

You close your computer and start putting your stuff in one of your bags while saying goodbye to the students who are leaving the room. You answer a few questions before turning off everything and leaving the University as you’re finally on weekend.

You go to the parking lot for the professors while checking your phone. You hoped you’d found a text from Bradley who has been on deployment for the past six months but nothing. You sigh and hope he’ll call you tonight. You know he should come home soon yet you can’t wait to see him again, you miss him.

Once you arrive at your car, you open the back door and put your two bags on the seat. Focused on what you’re doing, you’re not aware of your surroundings until you hear a voice behind you.

“Excuse me, Miss, I have a question about today’s class-”

“Bradley!” you exclaim with a big smile while you turn to face him.

Without wasting a second, you run to him and jump in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Bradley catches you easily and holds you tight while smelling your perfume that he missed so much. You look up and passionately kiss Bradley. You run your hands through his hair, needing to make sure he’s really there. Bradley kisses you back with as much energy. 

“Get a room, you’re on University grounds!” 

Your colleague and friend’s voice Savannah interrupts your kiss. You look at her and see her teasing expression on her face. Bradley puts you down and takes your hand in his.

“Thank God, you’re finally back, she’s gonna leave me alone now.”

“Don’t worry about this, I’ll keep her busy.” Bradley replies to your colleagues with eyes full of innuendos.

“I wasn’t asking for all the details. See you Monday.” she laughs before leaving.

“See you Monday.” you say before turning back to Bradley. “I thought you were coming back in two days.”

“We finished early and I wanted to surprise you.” he says while pecking your lips.

“How did you come here?” you ask as you stare at his white and blue Hawaiian shirt, your favorite.

“Jake dropped me off. Savannah told me at what time you finished your day so I patiently waited for you, almost patiently.” 

“She knew?”

“How was I supposed to surprise you without an accomplice?” Bradley rhetorically questions with a smile.

“You’re lucky I love these kinds of surprises. Oh, no! There is nothing in the fridge.” you suddenly exclaim. “I wanted to go grocery shopping tomorrow so I could make your favorite meal. You’re messing all my plans up with your surprises!”

“We’ll eat something at the Hard Deck, I told the Squad we’ll be there tonight.” he reassures you while helping you to get in the driver side of the car.

“Oh, I thought we’d spend the night alone.” you say once Bradley is in the passenger seat.

“Don’t you worry,” he starts as he kisses your cheek, “I intend on spending the whole day with you in bed tomorrow, but first we have to be social. After that, you can do whatever you want to me.” he smoothly whispers in your ear.

“You pervert!” you yell, faking being offended and gently hitting his shoulder. “I wasn’t thinking about that. Okay, maybe I was but still!” you admit after he gave you a look. “I missed my boyfriend and I wanted to stay in his arms in an innocent way.”

“Innocent, sure, I believe you.”

Following his sentence, you roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless. Bradley turns on the radio while you drive out of the parking lot. He takes your right hand in his as the first notes of Great Balls Of Fire comes out of the car radio. Bradley doesn’t need to hear more to start singing and you quickly follow his lead. 

And at the Hard Deck, most of the people present sing along with Bradley while he’s at the piano. You can’t help but tenderly look at him as he’s being the life of the party. How you missed watching him having fun at the piano surrounded by his friends! You couldn’t have dreamed of a better way to start the weekend. 

After he made the whole Hard Deck dance and sing, you and the Squad go play darts while Jake puts some music on. Javy is the first one to play, he’s close to the bullseye. With a cocky look, Jake goes after him and does better than Javy. Meanwhile, you talk with Natasha and Bob while Bradley has his arm around your shoulders. He only leaves your side when it’s his turn. After Bradley, Reuben is next then, they inform you you have to play. At first, you refuse, knowing you suck at darts and yet, you end up accepting. Without any surprise, you shoot far from the bullseye. 

You all keep playing and you keep missing the bullseye. Annoyed, you ask Bradley to help you which he happily does. You put yourself in front of the target, Bradley behind you as he takes your hand in which you hold the dart and raises it while giving you indications in your ear.

“You know,” Jake starts, “if you wanted advice from a professional, you should have asked me, not birdbrain.”

“She just wants an excuse to be close to Rooster.” Coyote says with a teasing tone.

“My offer stays the same, I’m a better company.”

“Shut up, Bagman.”

Jake laughs at Bradley’s sentence, glad to know he got under his skin. Bradley stops paying attention to Jake and focuses on your body against his. Bradley takes advantage of this moment to put his free hand on your hips while guiding you, then you throw the dart and for the first time of the evening, you’re close to the bullseye. You let go of a happy scream before turning around and kissing Braldey to thank him.

“We got it, you’re in love, can we continue the game?”

You don’t pick up Hangman’s remark and go back to Natasha and Bob. Finally, you stop playing as you want to lose this victory so you keep talking to your two friends. When Bradley leaves you alone one more time to play, you go to the bathroom.

Once you leave the stall, you wash your hands and when you look up to the mirror, you’re startled as you find Bradley behind you.

“You idiot, you scared me!”

“I was looking for you.”

“I went to pee, is it illegal?” you joke.

After drying your hands, you turn around to face your boyfriend; without wasting another second, he walks to you and puts his hands on your hips before pressing his lips on yours, you quickly respond to his kiss. Bradley gets you closer to him while you wrap your arms around his neck. Bradley’s tongue finds its way to yours and for a moment, you forget where you are. Bradley puts you next to the sink while his lips go from your mouth to your neck and you wrap your legs around his waist; you try to stifle your moan against Bradley’s shoulder.

“Bradley, we should stop.” you say without any conviction. “The others are just outside the door,” you add as he kisses your lips before going back to your neck again, “and anyone could walk in.”

“As if you want me to stop.”

“Of course, I don’t want you to stop.”

“I don’t see the problem, then. I can be quick.” Bradley affirms with a cocky smile.

His kisses go from your neck to your collarbone while his hand leaves your hip and slowly goes down to your thigh. Reluctantly, you take his hand and Bradley looks up.

“Earlier you were disappointed we wouldn’t be alone and now you’re stopping me. I’m confused.” he exclaims, laughing and frustrated. 

“We haven’t seen each other in six months, we are not having a quickie in the Hard Deck’s bathrooms.”

“What do you want me to do? I want you.”

“Take me to bed or lose me forever, Bradley Bradshaw.”

“No need to tell me twice. I’m closing our tab, go grab your purse.”

With a big smile on your face, you leave the bathroom and go find your friend to grab your stuff.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asks. 

“Braldey is tired, we’re heading home.”

“Tired, Bradshaw?” Natasha laughs as soon as she sees him coming and taking your hand.

“Freaking tired, yeah. See you guys.” He says while he leads you to the exit.

“Use protection, I’m too young to be a godfather!”

Bradley gives Jake the finger following his sentence while you leave the Hard Deck, laughing like two teenagers. It is safe to say, it’s the first time you’ve gone home from the bar that fast.

After spending a whole day on your own at your house, you decided it was time to be social again. After all, Natasha is leaving for a deployment in a week so you want to make the most of it while everyone is here. 

Sunday afternoon, you’re all at the beach. Guys are playing dogfight beach football while you and Natasha are laying on your towels, sunbathing and enjoying the view; and by enjoying the view, it means you are staring at your shirtless boyfriend as he throws the ball at his friends.

“Please, stop it.” Natasha sighs.

“What?”

“You may have your sunglasses on but I can still tell your eyefucking Rooster.”

“Is it a crime to check out my boyfriend?”

“When you’re next to your single friend, yes.”

“I’ll try to stop, I can’t promise you anything, though.”

“You’re disgustingly cute together.” she states before marking a pause. “I’m glad Bradley found you.” your friend sincerely affirms.

“I’m lucky I found him.”

“You know, before meeting you, Bradley didn’t really believe in love. I mean, he believed in it, just not for him. He’s always idealised his parents and he thought what they had was rare so he never worked hard on his relationships. Why be in a relationship if he can never have what they had? Then, he met you and everything changed. I had never seen him this happy before.”

“He never told me that.” you say with a bittersweet smile. “I had never been this happy before him either, you know. I’m not saying I wasn’t happy in my past relationships, I mean the ones that went well, but they have nothing to do with what I have with Bradley. With him, it’s easy, full of passion and love.” you explain, briefly looking at Rooster. “Every time I look at him, I just feel… so high school, as if I was a teenager having a crush for the first time, though I never experienced that, I had my first boyfriend at nineteen. I know, it’s stupid, we’re in our thirties, we’re not kids anymore but I never thought I could find a relationship that pure. For the first time, imagining a future with someone is simple. No matter which one it is, married or not, kids or not, as long as we’re together, I’m okay with it.”

“We like to tease you a lot, but we genuinely hope you two will last.” Natasha smiles before looking ahead of her. “Well, speaking of the devil, your prince charming is coming.”

Bradley trots around to you, his sunglasses on and his body glowing in sweat. The minute he’s in front of you, Bradley gets down and pecks your lips. He sits on the sand, next to your legs. 

“So, did you win?” you ask him.

“Look at Hangman and you’ll have your answer.”

Knowing Jake wasn’t in his team and that you can hear the blond man screaming they cheated, you easily understand Bradley’s team won.

“I deserve a hug.” Bradley states, getting closer to you.

In an instant, you put your hand against his torso and push him away.

“No way, you’re sweating too much. Go for a swim and then come back.”

“Alright, Ma’am.”

Without a warning, Bradley picks you up and runs to the water while you protest. You ask him to put you down while you both get in the ocean. You hold onto him as best as you can, ignoring Bradley’s sweat you criticised a few seconds earlier. 

“I don’t want to wet my hair.” you inform, hoping he’ll leave you alone.

“I’ll do your hair routine, promise.”

“I don’t care, you better not drop me.” you jokingly threaten.

At first, Bradley pretends he’s letting you go before diving in the water with you. The second you get your head out of the water, you splash Bradley, pretending to be mad.

“War is on, Bradshaw.”

While you keep laughing, you try to get your revenge by making Bradley fall in the water. In the end, you spend the remainder of the afternoon swimming and bickering. As promised, in the evening, Bradley does your full hair routine to make amends.

During the week, when you have some free time, you stay with Bradley at your place to watch American Pie. You have your back against his torso as you both lay on the couch. This movie which is more of an erotic comedy than a romantic one actually means a lot for you two. You shared your first kiss while watching the first American Pie movie. 

Before that moment, you had gone on two dates, however none of you had made the first move yet. For your third date, you invited Bradley at your old apartment and you decided to watch this movie as you hadn’t seen him in a few years. On the couch, you were close but not too much. As John was using the word ‘MILF’ to describe Stifler’s mom on screen, you made a joke which made Bradley laugh and without waiting any longer, he kissed you. 

That was three years ago and to this day, it’s a memory you still cherish; so it’s no surprise American Pie became your movie. As you get closer to the iconic scene with John, Bradley holds you tighter to him before turning the volume down a little bit, catching your attention.

“I still remember how nervous I was before kissing you. I think I never was that anxious to kiss a girl before.”

“Was I that scary?” you joke.

“You were too good for me, still are. I can’t believe you want me. You know, I also remember the first time I saw you.”

“When I was at the Hard Deck with Savannah.” you state, fondly thinking back to that moment.

“No, at the beach.” Bradley corrects, making your frown.

“What are you talking about? We met at the Hard Deck on a Friday night. I remember it perfectly.”

“We talked for the first time at the Hard Deck, but I saw you for the first time before that.”

“I’d remember if we had met before.”

“It was about two weeks before that night at the Hard Deck.” he explains with a smile. “You were at the beach, reading Symposium by Plato in Ancient Greek. You caught my attention instantly. It’s not everyday you find someone reading in Greek, especially Ancient Greek. At one point, you looked up, you probably were waiting for Savannah and as soon as I saw your face, I was caught off guard, I had never seen someone that beautiful before. I wanted to talk to you but I got a call from TopGun to deal with some paperwork and when I came back, you weren’t there anymore so as soon as I saw you again at the Hard Deck, I didn’t waste another second.”

“You never told me that.”

“I was waiting for the right moment.”

“What do you mean?” you ask as Bradley stands up from the couch and invites you to do the same. “What are you doing?”

“The first time I saw you, I knew I had to talk to you,” Bradley nervously starts, “And like I just told you, I had missed my chance the first time and I got lucky because I saw you a second time and that’s when I finally met you. At that moment, I didn’t know how much you’d matter to me, I knew one thing, though, I had to get to know you and that’s what I did. And I never regretted this once. We’ve been together for three years and I want more.” he says while putting one knee down and taking a jewellery box out of his pocket. “So, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“My God, yes! Of course, I want to be your wife.” you exclaim, throwing yourself in his arms and kissing him.

The second you break the kiss, Bradley starts breathing normally again and he takes the ring out of the box before putting it on your finger. As you look at the ring more carefully, you recognize it. You saw it in several pictures, it’s his mom’s. Bradley didn’t hesitate a second before choosing this ring to propose. He always told himself if he was lucky enough to find half of the love his parents had, then he’d use his mom’s ring. And when you came into his life, you proved to him how lucky he was because with you, he found a love as extraordinary as Nick and Carol’s, if not more.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

[flamesignite]

Oh, how he loved hearing those words. This was something completely new for Roy, on a whole new level. They were doing this together, sure Atem has been married before, but this was a whole new feeling for Atem, as well.

He didn’t expect to be stuck here and meet someone whom he would be spending the rest of his life with. He was by his side now, here to love and cherish him, to love and hold him, to support him. He was getting that chance to be married like how Hughes was.

Hughes I hope you’re watching… I’m happy now, I’m going to be married.

He thought those words, and he could feel the happiness Maes felt for him. As if on cue the wind blew to let him know that fact.

He didn’t say anything out loud though to Atem, he just focused on his smile, his face, their happiness, their win.

“I feel happy too, I feel like it strengthened me as well. I am glad that you don’t feel scared anymore. I’ll always be with you to help bring you the courage you need.” He whispered softly.

All of this was because they both faced their demons as the other accepted them for all that they are. They love each other unconditionally.

“I’ll always wait for you, Atem. I will always reach my hand out to you if you need that little push to reach out to me. I’ll catch you.” He promised as he cupped his cheek.

“I’ll do whatever humanly possible to protect the man that I love.” He whispers his thumb caressing his cheek as he smiled widely at the man he fell so desperately in love with.

"Fiancé. Fiancé." Atem repeated that word over and over, almost as if he was waiting for some... reaction: fear, resentment, bitterness, regret. But no. It wasn't there. Instead...

"Happy... I feel... happy. Emboldened. Strengthened. I thought the fear would find itself back to me, but... it's not there. I just feel... happy. Like I can't stop smiling. Like I can't stop... no. No more crying, no more tears. Only smiles." Obviously tears were more than okay as he kept getting told that crying from happiness was okay. But he was done crying. Even the sinking feeling in his chest... it was gone too.

"But not just that... I feel... grateful. You waited for me. You listened to me. You helped push me past my weakness instead of letting it blind me. Colonel. My Colonel. My fiancé. My love. My heart. You have it all. I will love and support you just as much as you love and support me. I will love and cherish all of you, the good and the bad." He looked at his hand, the gold ring shining in the moonlight.

"This is it. You and I. Together."

And this time around, he was ready and willing to more than commit to making this one stick.

[letsquestjess]

Paint My Love (Echo x F!Reader)

Summary: Echo loves to see you paint, but doesn't bank on the swell of emotions when you lovingly paint your love onto him.

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: 18+ / MDNI! Smut. Unprotected PiV.

-- -- -- -- --

With a gliding swipe of the paintbrush, blush tones outstripped and tempered the fiery red beneath. Fleecy clouds met with silky sky, the canvas filling with the delightful distant landscape as your rendition unfolded in mellow curves and serene shades. 

Your involvement in the clone network rarely permitted you time to indulge in a hobby. Planet hopping, eluding blaster bolts, and cracking codes occupied every waking moment, hauling captive and injured clones from the depths of Imperial prisons and extracting vital information from enemy systems. The task you undertook voluntarily, a decision you neither regretted nor deplored, but in the process, you abandoned much of your life. 

In moments such as these, you gladly seized whatever buffers and downtime you were offered without complaint about the shortness of the respite or the chance of being called to another critical situation. Everything Rex and his network did ensured a better galaxy, a denial of victory and power to the Empire, and the opportunity to see the sun rise over the freedom of every despairing world. 

You hoped the sunrise of that prospective dawn promised to prove as beautiful and inspiring as the one you painted, tracking the migration of sky vapours with your brush and the silvery streak contrasting the subdued corals and cardinals. A lilac hue crowned the horizon, and you contemplated which tints to mix to get the matching shade. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you painting,” Echo commented as he descended the ramp, distracted by the array of pleasing colours and shapes crafted by your skillful hand. 

“It’s been a while since I had the chance,” you replied. “Does Rex know to expect some more brothers?”

“He does. Also told him we’re going to stay for a couple of days to check the transmissions. I’ve set up a sweep of Imperial systems, but it could take a while, so we have some time.” 

Scomp link coasting down your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, he considered your artwork with a contented grin. “You always manage to see the good in everything.” 

“Bad things do not deserve a thought wasted on them,” you replied with a decided shrug. “I reserve that space for the things that make me happy.” 

“And that stubborn streak.” 

In answer to his jest, you dabbed his nose with the tip of your paintbrush and swallowed a chuckle at the responding arched eyebrow, dropping the brush into the jar of pigmented water. 

“I’m not used to having free time,” you said, mopping up the sapphire blob with the frayed towel over your shoulder. “What will we do?” 

“Wait for the scans and ensure we’re ready to move as soon as we get the results, but the rest, I suppose we… relax.” His face scrunched as though he sniffed something foul. That sounded wrong. In their line of work, relaxation never presented itself. Not even in times of quiet. 

The rumination creased his features, and you eased your fingertips up to his cheekbones to encourage him to loosen up. “At any rate, I’m going to need more canvases. I didn’t realise I had my supplies until I checked the cupboard last night. Must have left them there when I painted those posters for Rex.” 

Echo nosed into your touch. Faith in the good and your confidence in a better tomorrow shone in those images, declaring to the galaxy that they were defended and inspiring them to rise. “You could always use me,” he said, more tease in his tone and temptation in the amber flecks in his eyes than he intended. “As a canvas, I mean. If you needed. I… um… wouldn’t be opposed to you… trying that out…”

Covering his face in embarrassment with a gloved hand and his posture slumping, he retreated. Since you formed your attachment almost a year ago, his attempts at flirting grew worse in his mind, fumbled words attempting to sound exciting and falling flat. Yet each time, you found him more endearing and increasingly sweet.  

“The paints I use are safe for skin if you wanted to be my canvas,” you told him, removing the rectangular painting from the easel and setting it beside the ship steps to dry. 

He wound up to graciously refuse, to insist he did not wish to disturb your quiet peace or steal away your artistic resources, but everything you touched with your talents, you planted a shred of your soul into, and he pondered how he might look with your creations decorating him. “Actually, I’d like that.”

“In that case,” you said, your bright smile making every facet glow, “I’ll go set up the cockpit and I can paint you while we wait for those scans.” 

Spare rolls of fabric draped the co-pilot seat, and a tiered palette kept the array of matte and metallic colours neat while you organised your utensils. Pillars of sunlight provided a muted bloom, and settling Echo into the covered seat, you counted the various brushes and tested the bristles were smooth enough not to irritate his skin. 

“You’ll have to remove your shirt if you want me to paint on you,” you told him, offering an opening for him to retract his offer if he decided not to continue. He pulled an arm and his scomp link through the sleeves of his blacks and set the article of clothing over the navigation console chair. 

“Am I sat right?” he asked, wriggling and twisting in the seat. “I can move if you need me to, or-”

You dumped your jacket onto the inactive panel behind you and covered his lap with an old tatty blanket. “Just relax.”

Soaking the first brush into a silky maroon tint, you knelt and softly began your patterns. You let your heart guide your hand, winding around the embedded ports in his stomach and chuckling at the slight laugh he returned when the strands tickled his sternum. 

The colour choices flowed with your instincts, motifs and designs floating in your mind as you washed the brushes in between each pigment. You tuned into the steady swell and drop of Echo’s chest, meeting every breath tenderly pushing at the paintbrush. 

Enraptured in your concentration and the blossoms of your creativity, Echo remained unmoving, peeping as you expressed your love on his torso. You never ceased to amaze him in your artistry and your innovation, head tilted at a tender angle and teeth snagging your bottom lip as you chewed in studious contemplation. Your innate ingenuity permeated other parts of your life and on more than one occasion, hauled you from the fire and came to your aid, preventing you from ending up in an Imperial prison or worse. 

Stars, he wished he could express how you made him feel, how your radiance warmed him and your surety emboldened him to believe the galaxy would see better days. He hoped you realised how wonderful you were, that you never once needed to doubt yourself, because if he had to place bets on anyone, it would always be you. 

Inch by inch, brilliant designs of strength and light coated his skin, the rising and easing of his chest pulling the strings of his life into glorious being. For the first time in far too long, he felt himself, vibrant like he once was before the explosion that ripped him apart and remade him a machine. Your art brought together both parts of him into acceptance and new perspectives. 

“How incredible you are,” he breathed in a besotted exhale, swallowing the bloated tears of elation. 

His palm nestled your cheek and his thumb flicked over your lips. You set the brush aside and went to cup his face, stopping short at the stain on your palms. 

“Considering how much paint I have on my chest, do you think I’d mind a little more?” Echo coaxed you onto his lap, mindful of the drying designs as he let you wiggle yourself comfortable. “Thank you.” 

“What for?” you asked, planting a kiss to the tip of his nose and trailing your lips towards his neck. 

“Reminding me who I am.” 

Your kisses ceased, and you fixed on the reminiscent glimmer in his gaze. “You don’t need me to remind you who you are.” 

“Sometimes I forget. It’s like I was someone completely different before… before everything that happened, but that same trooper is still in there.” His scomp link rested on the small of your back and his thumb massaged circles on your hip. 

“Still the same foolhardy ARC trooper to me,” you assured him, fingers delighting in the contours of his face before idling on his jaw. “Only now with added stubble.” You scratched playfully at the scruff on his chin. “What was it Rex told me once? You used to shave so meticulously you could use your cheeks as mirrors?” 

A spirited chuckle rumbled in the depths of Echo’s chest and your designs fluttered with the movement. “That is a wild exaggeration.”

“Wild exaggeration, huh?” 

Echo clocked the mischief in your tone and the arched eyebrow as you pursued the strain in his pants. At the wriggle in your feigned repositioning and the grind of your hips, he momentarily closed his eyes and grunted under his breath. Maker have mercy for the way you liked to tease him. 

“I know you’re doing that on purpose,” Echo pointed out.

“Am not.”

“I believe that is what we would definitely call a wild exaggeration.” 

You gasped dramatically and splayed your fingers on his chest. As he laughed at your antics, he wrenched your hips down onto him again. “Anyone would think you liked that,” you cooed, your own arousal dripping and desperate for attention. 

“Perhaps I do,” he responded, dipping his thumb into the waistband of your pants. His touches graced your core, tiny flicks and presses of his fingertips edging you towards delight. 

Hungry for him the more your flirts danced, you hopped off him to remove your clothing and straddled him before the fabric even hit the cockpit floor. Soft kisses became starved as you rocked on him, the intensity between your legs unbearable. 

“It’s been too long since we’ve had some time to ourselves,” Echo panted. 

“Need you,” you keened, intent on not permitting your nails to sink into his shoulder in your haste to feel more of him. 

“No patience?” 

You shook your head and stopped grinding your hips long enough for him to reach into his underwear and withdraw his cock, give it a few pumps, and line himself with your entrance.

“Take your time, love,” Echo soothed, sensing the impatience in the little creases between your brows as you gradually sank onto him. “We don’t need to rush.” 

While you knew you had no reason to hurry, the ache within you burned boundless and fluorescent. You lowered yourself the last centimetre, and a satisfied breath escaped your chest at the fill. 

In an unhurried, endless rhythm, your thighs tensed in the rolling flow and you brought yourself down again on his length, assisted by his encouraging lift as he met you halfway. As your bodies moved as one, your breaths intermingled, kisses exchanged instead of words between the rise and drop of your love. 

“Echo,” you whined, the knot inside you unravelling and pulling deliciously as he buried himself in your heat and rolled your nipple between a finger and thumb, the thought of approaching your activity without haste abandoned. You both needed each other. Patience be damned to the depths. 

Your whimpers met with a low grunt. Neither of you were going to last much longer, you craved that closeness, that blessed bond. Building the friction between your sweat-coated skin, you crested the gratifying wave together, nails biting into flesh and your climaxes hitting their groan-filled peaks. 

Echo clutched you as the final throes circuited and fizzled, nuzzling at your neck. He peered down between your bodies where paint smeared his torso and residue smudges dusted yours. 

“Maybe we should wash this off,” you suggested in a calming breath as his release began to leak out between your legs. “Share a shower and save some water. Who knows how long we will be waiting for the scans to complete?” 

“Hopefully long enough for us to do this again,” Echo chuckled, boosting you into his arms, still comfortably inside you. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll make some breakfast.” 

“You spoil me,” you murmured, snuggling into the rocking motion as he moved you to the rear of the ship. 

“Oh, that’s just for starters.” He balanced you in one arm and nudged the button for the fresher with his scomp link, the door whooshing open. “I’m going to spoil you as much as I can and then some.” 

If you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, feel free to send me a message (18+ only).

@cw80831 @stardusthuntress @spicy-clones

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Are these my hands, still? (scrubbed clean as they are?)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.6k

genre: hurt/comfort, angsty but happy ending always always always

warnings: we're back with the blood on hands analogy, this is vaguely and metaphorically about consent, love and redemption and finding yourself blah blah blah

a/n: me ?? posting a fic ?? new year miracle fr. I haven't written in,,, a long time. I'm getting back into it but guys I am kinda rlly fuckin unwell and couldn't rlly proofread so I HOPE you all enjoy it at least a bit <33

"Do you ever… miss it?" It's not often that your voice is quiet, but tonight Damian has to shut off the water in the bathroom sink and turn to you, cocking his head to the side as if to hear you better.

"Miss what, my love?" he asks gently, leaning his hip against the smooth, granite counter and watching as you stand at your own sink, scrubbing rather aggressively at the dried blood on your hands. It has been a messy patrol, to say the least, and the two of you are sort of thrumming from the adrenaline of it as you stand in the dull light of your bathroom.

"Just… well, I don't know," you mumble, and it's enough to make something that feels upsettingly close to worry begin to eat at Damian's heart. He's not used to you stumbling - not used to you sifting through words and searching so desperately. And he knows, with a fearful sort of vulnerability, that you're not used to it, either.

So he can't really stop himself from chasing after you, can't find it within himself to leave you drowning. Damian moves toward you slowly as you stare down at your hands and scrub, and you find it difficult to stop even when he covers your frantic movements with one large palm while he reaches his other hand to turn off the water. It had been hot, he realizes rather abruptly, and your skin is too warm to the touch, steam still rising from the white sink basin.

"My love," he says slowly, leaning down a bit with slouched shoulders so that he can crane his head enough to look at your downturned face. "Please talk to me. Please."

You pull your hands out from under his instead of speaking, and he turns his palm to face upward so that you can place your hands there, dried blood ground into the grooves and prints of your skin.

"How long has it been?" you ask dully. "Since our hands looked like this?" Our, you think, a sickening sort of nausea twisting within you. But his are clean these days, always always always.

"It… doesn't happen often," Damian says slowly, a frown tugging at his lips as he feels himself chasing after you - feels himself trying desperately to catch up with whatever's dragging you under right now. "But there's… never a last time for things like these. It's not up to us to know when we'll have to get our hands dirty again."

When you look up at him, then, your eyes are big and shining and open, staring with something that looks a bit less like love and a bit more like longing. It makes Damian's stomach twist, just a bit, and he reaches one arm to wrap around your waist and pull you into him while his other hand abandons yours to tangle into your hair and guide your face to his chest.

There's no space for longing here, he thinks. There is only love. There is only love here and it belongs to you. He hopes, a bit desperately, that the sound of his heart thumping in his chest is enough to say that - to remind you of that. When you press your face closer to him and tangle your bloodied hands into his shirt, he can't help the touch of relief that courses through him.

"I need you to tell me what's going on, beloved," he says softly, and in any other situation you might've laughed at him - might've poked fun at the fact that Damian Wayne is practically begging at your feet like a dog desperate for a bone. 

You just sigh at his words tonight, though, tipping back and away from him as you untangle his arms from around you. He lets you, notably, his hands ever gentle and pliable under your touch. But when you spin back to the sink, turning the hot water back on with a steaming hiss, he lets one large palm cover yours again. 

"Let me do it for you, please?" And there's something about the way he asks it, something about the love in his begging that makes you crumble and nod. 

"You don't have to ask, you know," you say quietly as he takes your hands gently into his own over the sink and begins to scrub ever so gently at your skin. "You don't need my permission."

"You don't belong to me," Damian points out softly, but a frown tugs at his lips once more because he thought you knew that. 

"No, I - I know that. I just mean…" You trail off, though, as you stare at your hands engulfed in his, the gentle motions of his fingers wiping the red from your hands over and over and over again. "I belong to myself, I know," you continue, ignoring the thick unfamiliarity of the sentiment. "But we… we've given ourselves to each other, right? You don't have to ask."

"It's not a formality," Damian muses in the quiet bathroom, the pale light reflecting down onto the two of you. "It's a promise. It's… a reminder, my love."

"Of what?"

"Of what you just said," he reminds you patiently, his eyes flickering up to you as you keep your own gaze locked on your intertwined hands. "You belong to yourself now. These hands are yours now, completely. You get to choose what to do with them. You get to choose what's done with them."

"Ah," you say flatly, Damian's words jarring in a familiar sort of way. None of it's new, but sometimes it slips away from you just a bit too much on nights like this.

Your hands, you realize sort of distantly, are clean again, and Damian's taken a towel to dry them with a gentleness that the two of you seem incapable of most days. He moves with a softness that feels learned rather than inherited and it makes something that feels dangerously like hope flutter through your chest.

You don't speak through the rest of it, content to stare down at your clean palms as he smoothes his fingers over your skin and throws the wet, used towel onto the counter. As your eyes flicker to track the movement, watching as it splats onto the solid granite with a dull, muffled flop, you find your gaze searching for the red that you're sure should be there. You find yourself looking for the blood that must've been scrubbed from your hands - that must've seeped into the white fabric and stained the towel into something unusable. 

"You cleaned them enough on your own, you know," Damian muses gently, smoothing a stray hair away from your face as he wedges himself between you and the counter to block your view from the towel. "You didn't really need me to do it for you."

"Didn't I?" you say haltingly. "Why did I - why did you do it, then?"

"Do you remember when we were children?" he asks in lieu of answering, a confused look scrunching over your face at his words. "The first time we really fought - the first time you cut me with your sword."

"Yes," you snap just a bit, and you find yourself balling your hands into fists so that you can't stare at your palms any longer.

"I remember it, too," Damian muses further, and you look up at him with furrowed brows while he smiles - something soft and sweet and loving beaming down toward you. "I remember feeling it."

"…What?"

"It's so human to bleed, isn't it? So human to be beaten." Your face morphs into bewilderment at his rambling, at the sweet reminiscence that passes through his voice. He takes your hands into his with a gentleness that wasn't supposed to belong to him, and as he smoothes his thumb over your knuckles you can't help but wonder if there was ever anything really wrong with your hands at all.

"Why are you bringing this up right now?" you ask quietly, and he flips your hands over in his hold so that your palms are facing up, staring back at you as you glare down at them.

"Because I was always human. I just needed you to remind me of it. Sometimes we need to be reminded, beloved. That's all." He says it simply, of course, like the words haven't ripped the ground from underneath you. But they have - and you both know it, you both feel it as you teeter on your feet.

"They don't look like my hands when they're clean like this," you offer hollowly, your voice swallowed by the dim light of the bathroom, shrouded by the love that pours from Damian as he lifts your hands to press kisses to each one of your fingertips. "These aren't my hands anymore."

"But they are, aren't they?" he says simply. "They're yours now more than ever before."

"What am I…" you falter. Damian waits - ever patient, ever solid under your touch. "What do I do with them?"

"Whatever you'd like."

"Should I…" you trail off, staring up at him first and then down to your palms again, his hands tangled with yours. "Should I do something good with them?"

"Do you want to?"

"Always," you answer quickly. "Yes, I - you know I do."

"Well, then," Damian shrugs - like loving you is easy, like knowing you is something he was born to do, "I suppose it's inevitable that you will."

[renzireads]

One drink and straight to bed, he vowed to himself.

“A water?” The barman scoffed. “The poor man’s choice, I see.”

Wally chuckled. “The choice of a man who just got here from a trip longer than you can imagine. D’ya got any rooms free up in this place or?”

The barman’s face softened, and he laughed as he went to grab a glass of water. Returning, he leaned in as he handed Wally his drinks. “We do, but tell me, have you ever been here before?”

A blush rose up his cheeks as Wally shook his head. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is,” he laughed awkwardly. He suddenly felt very looked at.

“Curious.” The man pulled back, then nodded to himself. “Gotham usually doesn’t show herself to people who haven’t been here before, well, unless she has plans for you. Or so they say.”

“Gotham?” Wally blurted out, eyes widened in shock. “I can’t believe I’m actually here.” He laughed, not because he was happy, but he couldn’t help himself from laughing at his own stupidity. Of course, with all the weirdness going on around here, how didn’t he realize this sooner?

He did it. He found the no-man’s-land that was particularly starting to look like an any-man’s-land to him. The place he had been looking for all along.

“You know, there’s some rumors about-” The bartender started, then stopped dead in his sentence and looked up behind Wally. Right then, Wally felt two, strong hands clasp onto his shoulders.

“You’re in my seat.” A deep, bouldering voice said, the two goons behind him snickering loudly.

Wally looked around him and noticed the two chairs besides him had indeed come up empty. Still, he shrugged and tipped his drink back. “And I was having a really good conversation.” He shot back, not getting off the chair. “Please, do continue.”

He heard a couple “Ooh”’s and “Shit”’s and snickers behind him as the saloon fell silent. All eyes fell on him, or well, them, as Wally shrugged the hands off his shoulders and leaned forward.

“Funny, kid.” The man all but growled. The bottle in his hand -some dirt cheap brand of beer, Wally guessed- came into his view as Wally skillfully -although accidentally- dodged the bottle when he turned the bar chair around. The glass made a painful shattering noise as it came into contact with the edge of the bar, sending shards everywhere.

His attacker staggered back, the intoxication visible in how he tripped rather gracefully against one of his back-up buddies. Immediately, everyone at the bar shot up from their seats and started screaming. Some people saw this as the perfect time to throw some punches around, and Wally winced as he heard the rough sound of a cracking bone right next to him.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, the way this bar fight came to be, but now everyone was in on it. Everyone, except for Wally. Shit, had he really just started this? He frantically looked around, hoping to spot a way out of this mess he had so swiftly created. Hells, he hadn’t even been here for over ten minutes and he already-

A hand slipped around his wrist, and the strong grip pulled him out of his thoughts as fast as he was pulled out of the saloon. When the cold night’s air pushed his hair out of his eyes, his mind cleared. Loud screams and thuds against the walls and floors, although a bit more muted now, made him look at one of the windows.

What just happened?

“You’re really quite something, y’know?” An amused, cocky voice startled him fully away from whatever was happening inside the saloon now, and he traced his eyes to the figure in front of him.

[red-doll-face]

Heeyyy! Soooo I have a fun request idea that I totally came up with on my own with no help from anybody else, from my own mind and not some super creative person that answered my question about Arthur proposing to reader 🤣 it goes something like this:

-takes three months to work up the nerve and like another one to pick out one ring.

-chickens out at least two times bc the moment isn't right

-asks Hosea for advice 19 times (Hosea is tired)

-he's the trope where reader starts crying and he's like ohh goddd i fucked up of course you don't wanna marry my ass

-the way he would ride around for a week looking for the perfect spot to do it

-marks it on his map with a heart

-the essays he would write in his journal about this situation

-he's so cute i love him pls marry me Arthur Morgan

-awww once you say yes??

Hehehehe no pressure though!!!!! I just looooovvvveeeee this idea so much!

Yes !!! Yes of course I’ll write this!!! ❤️❤️💕💕🥰🥰😵‍💫😵‍💫😩😩As always it ended up running really long even though I didn’t even really flesh out a back story. 🥲 I’m glad you enjoyed my response ☺️☺️ I definitely had high honor Arthur Morgan in mind for this when I read it, I hope it’s ok and that you like it!!! I was so happy to see you in my inbox !!! @zae-heeyyy 💓💓💓💓💓 writing this was so cathartic and I loved the rdr1 setting so much so that I made this pre black water heist or whatever 😭🫶 from Arthur’s pov hope you like the characterization 🥹

Tags: established relationship, marriage proposals?? Arthur being a major weenie. Like huge weenie. He is soooo sooo sweet it’s almost like too much and I love love love sweet Arthur so very fluffy!!!! Pre black water !! Dutch being a jerk 😒 but cute dad Hosea moments ☺️

Arthur wants things to be perfect for you.

(High honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur knows he’s made up his mind when he’s in the tailor’s shop in Blackwater, looking like a lowdown cattle rustler among all of the fancy fabrics on the wall. He and his spurs, his boots scuffed to hell and a leather satchel slung over his chest. He’s out of place and he knows it. But he’s here to buy a new shirt.

Yesterday, he had nearly driven himself insane looking for a shirt of his that wasn’t ruined, ripped and mended, dirty, stained irreparably. None of them were good enough for what he wanted, something nice to get down on one knee and ask his girl to marry him. And so he kissed you goodbye and rode into town in search of something better. He makes an effort at pretending to be interested in any of the fancy stuff, silk and linen suits that he sure will never be fitted for him. He clears his throat as the attendant drags his eyes away from the sunday paper.

A tight lipped smile consumes the man's face. Arthur already can sense the assumptions he’s getting but he pays little mind to it. He’s getting this shirt and that's that.

“How can I help you, sir?” Obnoxious and nasally, the thin and short man's voice already gives away his air of superiority. Arthur's eyes narrow but he isn’t too irritated yet.

“Here to get a shirt.” His words are simple. The attendant raises a brow.

“Just a shirt, not… pants or shoes?” the attendant lowers the paper to scan over the rest of Arthur’s clothes. Arthur can hardly ignore the burn of insecurity.

He gives a look that conveys how quickly he is losing his patience. “Excuse me?” He can only tell his posture changed when he observes the man's attitude change, clinging to the counter between them like it would make any difference.

“No, well sir, perhaps I’ve overstepped, I apologize. What kind of-of shirts were you thinking?”

“Listen, I ain’t here to cause no trouble, just show me what you’ve got,” The attendant hurries to show him some options, tries to sell him a vest but that isn’t happening with his budget.

In the end, he picks a blue french dress shirt. Costs a real pretty penny but he wants it to be special. Because you’re special. He stuffs it away in a saddlebag after thanking the attendant, who no doubt heaves a sigh of relief after he leaves.

-

He’s been collecting rings. In a special bag is a collection. A few plain gold bands, some with stones set in them. They’re pretty blue and red gems, some have filigree detailing. But he still can’t find the right one.

Worse then, is that they’re rings of all different sizes which he gets from his more sordid activities. Debt collecting or train robberies. It’s all stolen goods. It feels wrong to give you something like that but when he told Dutch his intentions, he clapped him on the back and told him to look in the collection box for more rings. He nodded then but it was half hearted. Somehow that was more souring. Did he really want to give you something he took from someone else? That someone else bought for their loved one with the express purpose of giving them something to symbolize how they loved each other? His own thoughts swirl circles in his head, why he had these scruples about it, he didn’t know.

It’s riding with Hosea that he asks for advice. They’ve been working on a job in Tumbleweed, trying to con some poor fool into giving money he shouldn’t by pretending to sell land deeds. They ride all the way from the yellow grasses of Hennigan’s Stead and it’s been mostly quiet over the stretch of passing though Armadillo. Arthur decides to speak up after they pass through town. The sun is beginning to dip a bit lower in the sky but they’ll be in Tumbleweed before then.

“I been-”

“This about you n’ the girl?” Hosea already has a knowing smile and Arthur rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should do it! You two would make quite the couple, she’s a sweetheart, that girl,”

“Yeah, she-she’s… I’ve been lookin’ at rings to give ‘er,” He grips the reins before going lax, riding easily along the path. Hosea murmurs, letting Arthur continue. He guides Boadicea down the dusty road. “I don’t think I wanna give her something I got robbin’, don’t seem right,”

“Then get her something new, I don’t think she’ll mind at all. But you do what you think you should. You could probably fence all the other rings you thought about and get her something quite nice with the cash,”

“Yeah, I could do that,” why hadn't he thought of that?

“That’s a wonderful thing, getting married. Don’t be afraid to, y’know, go through with it. If you’re thinkin’ about it. Maybe, once Dutch and I find the perfect spot for the gang to settle down, we’ll build you two your own little thing on the land,”

“You that confident she’ll say yes?” Arthur has an awkward and disbelieving laugh but Hosea keeps his earnest smile.

“Why wouldn’t she? Arthur, somehow, she has gone for a man like you, you should be over the moon, you should be whistling tunes everywhere you go,”

“Like me? What's that supposed to mean?” He knows what he means. A man like him had very little to offer you, a young woman who could easily charm some other well established man into giving you a home. Leagues away from his cot and the weathered canvas he put up to give you some small amount of privacy.

“You remember what happened with that Mary woman. This time, things oughta turn out better. This one’s got no old man to chase you around with a shotgun,” Hosea figures himself very funny and laughs, ending it with a shallow cough. Arthur furrows his brows.

Of course he reminded him of his disaster with Mary. He could never escape that woman, even when he severed ties with her. But how he had wanted to, especially with you. Yes, it was true, he had loved Mary. But now he loves you. He needs you. His idea of the rest of his life always includes you, laying in bed with him, gently stroking his chest, leaving him love notes in his satchel, telling him what happened in the camp while he was gone. He always listens, always wakes up smiling with you tucked under his arm.

“I remember just fine,” he grunts,

“Good, because you’ll forget about her soon enough. Month from now, I suppose. Where are you going to tell her?”

“Where? I didn’t think we was gonna go nowhere, just tell her when I was ready to…” he hadn’t even imagined a place when he first set out to do this.

“So you wanna propose; with Uncle standing behind her, drunk off his ass in just his soiled union suit?”

“I-”

“Take her somewhere special, somewhere to make her feel special! Women like to feel special, Arthur, you know that,”

“I do?” He says, with a sarcastic edge to his voice, though he tries on his attempt at sounding uninvested.

“You should. I didn’t do that enough. I should have before, well…” Arthur nods, bowing his head a little as if in remembrance. He hopes to always have you by his side. Otherwise he would be much like Hosea: carrying a torch for a woman who passed through his life too quickly.

-

He starts his journey looking for something special. Special like you are. Keeps his eye out, marking potential things in his map, and makes a list in his journal. Aurora Basin maybe, a pretty lake deep in the forest but getting attacked by bears doesn’t sound romantic in any way. There are some sweeping vistas overlooking the San Luis River in Rio Bravo. He isn’t quite sure about anything though, thinking it over deeply. He just wants things to be perfect.

He’s still thinking about it when he comes back to camp, close to Lake Don Julio, sighing. Thinking much too hard obviously, he doesn’t notice that you’re sitting on his bed, biting your nail nervously until you see him first. You look worried, happy to see him but worried. You stand, hugging your arms around yourself and then placing them on your hips to make you seem more upset but you just drop them when he’s close enough.

“Hey, darlin’,” He utters, opening his arms to give you a hug but you just look up at him. He drops them, mentally kicking himself before taking his hat off and sitting down on his bed.

“Arthur, you’ve been gone three days,”

“I know,” you’re disappointed in his answer. You take a breath and a pause, looking off to the right. He stares down at his scuffed and weather worn boots. He hates to disappoint you, hates when you’re upset. It takes a lot to get you there, too. You’re a forgiving soul when he knows he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. He looks away, like a dog who knew he shouldn’t have chewed those leather boots up to bits.

“You know. I asked everyone where you were and they didn’t know,”

“Honey, I ain’t gonna leave you, I’m not-”

“You leave other men out of this, Arthur,” you already predicted he’d bring another man’s failings to make up for his own. Maybe bringing up John’s shortcomings while you’re upset is a little below the belt but it worked better in his head. He puffs some air out in a laugh. God, he just can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Is something funny? Is how much-how much I worry funny to you?” You look like you’re gonna cry, squeezing your arms tight around yourself. Your eyes flick around, thinking of all the people watching, never any goddamn privacy in this place. You start to back up, looking for a place to hide your tears.

“No, no, I- I’m sorry, don’t go walkin’ away,” You let him pull you back. Let him tug you into his lap. You sniff and tuck into his neck. “I’m sorry,” he says at least 5 more times. His hands pet down your hair, holding you. He hadn’t wanted to come back to such a harrowing fear in the pit of his stomach, the thought of you walking off without him. He thinks himself lucky that you haven’t had enough of him and decided to leave already.

Arthur pulls you in real tight, doesn’t let up til’ you start to calm down a little. “Shouldn’t cry for me, sweet girl, bastard like me ain’t worth them tears,” he wipes a few away. Seeing you like this could make him cry if he thought about it too much, how he had let you down. His nerves almost make him tremble, the slightest shake in his fingers when he brushes them under your eyes, shiny with tears. If anyone else made you cry, he’d knock their teeth out. But what is he supposed to do when it’s him? Sickness roils around his abdomen.

“Where were you, anyway?” You shake your head at his words. “Mac and Davey said…” he perks up at that. Those boys are a terror. His face screws up in an anticipated anger. He’d be angrier with them, they’re the ones who need to see it, not you.

“What’d they say?”

“No, they were just messing with me. I don’t think it’s true,” You look away. But he knows exactly how nasty those boys can be. He gives you a look and you give him a defeated one in return. An embarrassment leaks into your words. You can’t meet his eyes, twiddling your fingers.

“They said you were at the saloon in town. They said things that aren’t true and I know it but it isn’t nice to leave me here with nothing to say about it,”

“I know, darlin’, next time, you’ll be the first to know where I’m goin’,” You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulder while he pats your back, grabs your thigh so he can pull you to sit across his lap fully.

“Are you gonna answer my question or should I take their word?” you tease and he reassures you about those boys. They’ll be hearing from him soon enough.

“I’m gonna have a word with them, don’t worry about it,” he scratches his beard. How is he supposed to say that he went riding around looking for a place to take you so he can ask you to take his sorry hand in marriage? He had already disappointed you and saying it’s a secret is a laughable idea.

“Well, I was out, uhh- huntin’?” You frown and lean away.

“Arthur, you’re an awful hunter and an awful liar,” you look really hurt. You almost stand but he pulls you back. He needs something to tell you and fast.

“I was out lookin’ for somethin’ real special to give you. It’s supposed to be a surprise…but well, I can’t keep no secrets from you, sweetheart,” You fuss a little, a wariness in your posture. You study his expression. It isn’t a complete lie, makes it a bit easier to pull off. He really does have a surprise for you. He tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch up when yours do to, a small smile shining through the clouds of your emotional turmoil.

“What surprise?”

“I didn’t find it, guess a surprise, it’s gonna have to stay,” You pout and wiggle, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Ok, but once you find it, you better take me to see it right away,” You kiss him, soft and sweet, holding his prickly jaw in one hand. He can feel how your pout gives way to a smile. The feeling of your soft lips on his is one of those things he’ll never get sick of, never get over.

“I will, promise,”

-

He’s found the perfect ring, really, by chance. It’s a little thing but it’s the right color, goes well with you. The rock on it isn’t very big but he saw it in a window while in town. Some big fancy jewelry store, showing off all the finer things that he never paid any mind to. Unless it was to steal it of course. But he had bought it. With money that may have been also robbed but it was from hitting a Del Lobo stash. A good deed, probably in a backwards sense.

The girls had ‘oohed’ at it, Mary-Beth had an excited tiny clap and Tilly rejoiced. Jenny nodded with a small smile.

“We’re happy for you Arthur! Oh my god, Arthur Morgan, gettin’ married…” Tilly giggles, putting her hands to her cheeks and clasping her hands in front of the skirt of her yellow dress.

Karen laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day,”

“Don’t listen to her, I mean we was hoping when we saw you two huddled up all the time,” Mary-Beth takes the ring from him, holding it closer, so that Jenny and Tilly can get a closer look.

“Hey, be careful with that,” he murmured, trying not to sound too desperate. He scratches his neck instead of snatching it back like his instinct wants him to. Evening is coming soon, purple dusk and soft coyote yipping and howling far in the distance marks the sun's descent. Meaning you’re probably finishing up whatever it is you’re doing. He hopes you don’t come around the corner at an inopportune time. Arthur turns his head this way and that.

“Where’d you get it? Looks new, ain’t scuffed to high heaven like everything else around here,” Jenny points out and the girls nod.

“Bought it in town,” playing it off doesn’t work so well.

They ‘ooh’ some more. “Fancy. Only the best for Arthur’s sweetheart,” Karen coos teasingly.

“Gimme that,” grumbling, he takes the ring back, bowing his head so they can’t see the embarrassment plain on his face. He meanders off after asking how things have been. Of course, they only give him updates about you, Karen jokes that that’s all he wants to hear about anyway. He scoffs and wishes them a good evening.

But the perfect spot is yet to be discovered. Evades him like just about nothing else. He almost gives up on the idea. He’s been taking you out, trying to get you in the almost perfect moments. Taking you out on the town in Blackwater was a good time, he bought you dinner and took you on a stroll down the cobbled streets, watching your face light up when you saw something pretty in a window, clutching his hand and pulling him in more. He almost proposed on the veranda at the Blackwater saloon. Only for a fight to break out at the poker table to interrupt.

Then he took you out to see the poppy fields in Great Plains. But he had let his anxiousness and his nerves overtake him. He had tucked the ring away. You had looked so beautiful standing among the flowers, it was perfect but he just…couldn’t. Instead, he wrote in his journal about his own cowardice. Wrote about if he should lock you to him for the rest of your life. If he’d end up leaving you a widow. Or if you were to be taken from him like Annabelle and Bessie. Leaving behind lonely men who longed for a woman gone from this world. Then he scribbled pictures of you, trying to draw the motion in your hair and in your dress and the beaming most enchanting smile he had ever seen.

Boadicea munched on the long wheat grass, waving in the wind while he kept a watchful eye on you, picking flowers in your pretty dress fluttering against the bright blue of the sky. You have a bunch of candy orange poppy flowers held together by your palms, a bright smile on your face. You walk to where he sits, leaning against the tree, next to a small broken down stone fence. Your smile falters when you see his pensive expression. You come close enough to touch. You dangle one flower above him before you tuck it into the frayed ropes banded around the crown of his hat. He lowers his head while you fuss. Smiling like a fool. You smile again too, sitting beside him. You both listen to the sound of the quiet plains, breeze in the branches above him. The shade is cool, light filters beautifully over your features, speckled like the back of a doe.

“Something has been going on with you, Arthur,” you state as pure fact, knowing him all too well. You had only really known each other a year and have only been together as a couple for six months but you knew him better than anyone else. You had let him be himself, let him just…be. He didn't need to say anything for you to understand him.

“I’ve just been… thinkin’ bout some things,”

“Really? I thought you said you weren’t very good at that,” you smile a little, nudging his shoulder. Hoping to lift his spirits with his similar brand of humor but when he hardly huffs a laugh, you frown. “Is it about you and me?”

“Yeah, in a way,” he says, unable to hide anything from you. Why should he bother? Saying no would make you more suspicious. Arthur closes his eyes and can feel the panic rising in you. He could have been better about saying it but he’s quick to deflect it away from his secret. “You happy with me?” low and grumbled, the severity makes his tone go way down.

“I don’t understand. Do I not seem happy? Arthur, I’ve never…I’ve never been happier than I am with you. You’re the kind of man any girl would be lucky to have,” You smile, leaning to face him. Softening up, your eyes track over his face.

He wanted to ask you right then and there. Tell you just how much you complete him. How lucky he was to have you, how there never was a happier time in his life. He doesn’t believe in that sentiment you have, he had failed the women in his life. But he had wanted to make a vow, to never leave you alone. It’s his own nerves that wrap tight around his hands, don’t let him reach in his satchel for the little treasure that will be your wedding ring.

“No, I just know I been gone, I don’t wanna ignore you. I just been busy,”

“You have things to do,” You sigh heavily. “I wish the other men would be as helpful as you. Sometimes, I watch Sean, Uncle, and Bill lay around all day while you’re out working. It doesn’t seem fair,” Your brows pinch in a small dissatisfaction with the idea. He smirks.

“I don’t know how much I trust Sean to get things done right. We’d probably eat nothin’ but leaded rabbit meat and whiskey if we left it up to that boy,” You giggle and nod. Happy to see him back in his joking mood.

“Arthur… You know I love you, don’t you?” God, those words make him shiver. Make his heart rattle in his chest. Could swear his insides turn about 3 times. So sweet, you look at him, hands on his thighs, leaning into his side. He opens his arm for you to tuck into, grabbing your waist to pull you close.

“Yeah, I do. Love you more,” he can feel heat flush up his neck and cheeks but he doesn’t care if he looks like a lovesick idiot. Your joy is worth it. The wind blows your hair over your shoulder, you let him sweep it back some more. Your pretty laugh when he bows over to lay you down on the grass makes him chuckle.

-

He’s finally found it. Montana Ford. A shallow spot in the river he discovered, looking for a short cut trying to cross from New Austin into West Elizabeth. He hated riding through the Del Lobo populated Thieves Landing, especially after they were catching on that it was Dutch and his boys robbed their stash two weeks ago. He sighed and then he veered off the road, looking for somewhere to cross. And the shaded river was perfect.

He stays there a moment, looking at the pretty grass growing alongside the water, the light glittering over the surface. The sound of the river rushing by fills his head pleasantly. You’d love it, you’d toss your boots aside and wade into the river, lifting your skirts high enough to hopefully not get wet. But you’d be wet anyway. He’d do it too, you made him feel like he was twenty despite his thirty some years on this earth.

He decides to sit and sketch it and write about you. Just how excited he was at how everything was coming together. He feels like a kid, sappy but too devoted to care very much at the small heart he puts on his map. He’s almost embarrassed of himself. Even with no one to see. He folds his map up and stuffs his journal away, whistling his horse over. With a soft word or two, he mounts up and continues on to his destination.

-

It's been three days since he found the spot he would take you to and he’s had a ring in his satchel that glares up at him every time he opens it to pull out a cigarette. Of course, just as everything comes together, Dutch insists he go scouting for some new venture, looking to follow a treasure hunter so they could rob him. It ends up being a whole lot of nothing from a bad tip but Dutch has a ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ speech to try and lick his own wounds at Arthur’s expense. Arthur rolls his eyes. Feels his hands knot into fists.

“Maybe next time, it’ll be you runnin’ all over New Austin on some wild goose chase! And I’ll give you this bullshit. Wouldn’t that be just fine, wasting your goddamn time-”

“Arthur, calm down! I don’t have time for your complaining. Where is that girl of yours? Why don’t you blow some of that steam off with her? It’s obvious to me-”

“Dutch…stop pushing the boy,” Hosea remarks from where he’s reading a book nearby. Arthur postures to continue arguing and Dutch shoots a glare before waving him off. He looks to Hosea and backs away, huffing. But before he can go for a smoke to hopefully calm himself down so he could be with you, Hosea calls him over.

“So… have you popped the question?”

“No, I ain’t got time most days,” He sighs in defeat, dropping his weight on the seat next to him, resting on his knees, leaned over. He takes his hat off to adjust his hair before putting it back on. He hadn’t seen you in another two days on account of this stupid ploy to rob a treasure hunter who didn’t know left from right and east from west. What an idiot. But not nearly as foolish as he.

“Tomorrow, I’ll tell Dutch to leave you out of these plots of his. I’ll even tell Miss Grimshaw that she’ll be gone. Take her and ride away for a couple of days. I hope to see a ring on her finger when you get back. In fact, I’ll be expecting it!” Hosea has a smile on his face, the excitement is genuine. Arthur nods.

“And what if she says no?”

“Well you keep at it. Perhaps a little persistence is all you need but why do you insist on imagining the worst?” It’s as if after asking, he considers why Arthur might not want to change things irreparably, might have already put his heart on the line and had it thrown away before.

“Arthur, the sting of rejection must be pretty…pretty lamentable. But you wouldn’t be trying this hard if you really thought you didn’t have a good chance,” Hosea sets his book down. “Go get some rest… leave first thing in the morning,” Hosea pats Arthur lightly on his shoulder. Arthur looks up as Hosea wanders in the direction of his tent.

His heart does yearn to see you at his side, wearing his ring on your finger. To hear you referred to as Mrs. Morgan. But all he can see is an incredulous look on your face. ‘Marry? Me? Arthur, you must be joking,’ you laugh and laugh. You’d never be so cruel but whatever part of him hates his own guts imagines the scenarios with great fervor. The anger from the rest of his day and the anger at himself grit against each other. He growls low before marching off to his tent.

You’re already inside, looking very lovely, one of his mended shirts serving as something of a robe to wear over your underthings. You look up and smile. He could forget the whole world just by looking at you. You hum, scooting over in bed.

“Arthur…” the way you call his name, you hardly need to give him any pet names, just Arthur will do.

“Come out with me tomorrow. First thing in the morning,” He states. More like a command, the residual anger drips off his words. You look at him strangely.

“Alright but I’d like to know what all of this is about first,” You set whatever you were working on, perhaps brushing your hair as you set a horsehair brush aside. You give him a concerned look.

“Found that surprise,” he grumbles, sitting down and tugging his boots off. “Hope you’ll like it but…” he stops to tug his gun belt off, his suspenders too. Arthur rests his hat gently on the side table. “Can’t be too sure til I show it to ya,” You smile softly.

“I think if you think I like it, I’ll love it,” God, he hopes so. Anticipation bounces around in his head and in his lungs. He’s practically short of breath. How he’s going to sleep, he has no idea.

“Yeah?” you hum in agreement. Looking sleepy, he’s endeared by how your eyes blink slowly, how you wiggle onto his chest the second he lays down. Your hands rub down his chest and belly. You’re asleep in a matter of minutes. He almost wishes he had you for company still but he’d never wake you for something so selfish. Instead, he pets down your hair and listens to your breathing, the natural hush that covers the camp once it’s too late for much of anything but small chatter.

-

Like clockwork, he wakes early. He can’t remember falling asleep but you're softly murmuring, you won’t wake unless he expressly wakes you. He gives himself time to put on that shirt he bought and rub his hand over his face at how nervous and silly he feels buttoning it up. He pulls a jacket over it to hopefully hide how ridiculous he looks. The morning is a pale blue when he steps out, thinking to bring you coffee to wake you.

You dress, half asleep, when he comes back to you, humming into the cup he brought you. You wear something nice but not overstated. You put kisses on him to wish him a good morning after you’ve decided you’re cleaned up enough.

He helps you up on his horse, Boadicea already very used to you. The ride isn’t too bad and you certainly make it better, he’s quiet with nerves, responding as much as he can without getting lost in his thoughts. The sun has climbed up and blazed down on you for a while by the time you get there. But your face when you see his surprise is too precious, eager to slip off the back of his horse.

“Arthur, it’s so beautiful!” The summer sun is high in the sky, perfect for your plans as you tug your boots off. He ambles after you, hitching his horse to a tree. You’re already sighing and knee deep in the center of the river. Your stockings lay haphazardly tossed over your boots. You’re some fabled creature, come from somewhere else. He could see it. No woman shined like you did, at least not how he saw things.

Just like he imagined, he rolls his pants up and tosses his boots aside, the spurs jingle when they hit the ground. The light catches the river’s surface, shades of yellow and green, the earth's gentle brown. You’re excited to see him join you, taking his hand that he holds out to you, pressed to his belly and chest, just where you belong.

“You like it, sweetheart?” He mumbles, really fishing for compliments. He knows you do but he’d love to hear you say it.

“I love it, Arthur, how could you say I wouldn’t? Sometimes, you’re a silly man,” you laugh, sway with him in the river. Birds sing, the water is cool, it’s perfect. He pulls you up to a shallower part of the ford, the sun forms a halo around you, reminds him you’re pure heaven and he couldn’t let you go.

“I have something else for you,” his voice is shaky instead of the easy confidence he likes to portray himself as. You look up excitedly but the dazzling smile slips off your face, you're shocked as he pulls a ring from his satchel and kneels down in the river.

“I-uhhh…I-“ he had really planned all of this and didn’t think of a single word to say. He can't bear to look up, he’s sure he’ll lose his nerve. “I haven’t loved…anyone like I love you,” the ring looks tiny and pathetic in his fingers. They’re also calloused to hell but he continues anyway. “There ain’t anyone else for me in this world but you. I just wish I was a better man, you deserve more than I can give but… if you would have me,” he looks up and your hands cover your mouth and tears leak over your fingers.

He really had ruined everything, hadn’t he? How was he supposed to go on living with you? What would he tell Hosea? His face falls and his heart cracks but he’d be glad to take you back home and disappear for a few days.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, don’t know what I thought,”

“Arthur, just please…” you hold out your left hand. You wipe your tears, trying to compose yourself and when he sees your smile, your hand over your right cheek, he lets himself ease. “Nothing would make me happier than to be- to be your wife, Arthur, you are…you’re the best man I know,” you wiggle your fingers excitedly and he slips the ring over your ring finger. He stays stunned, kneeled in the water, his pants soaking it all up but he couldn’t care less.

The ring looks so perfect on you. He holds your hand, kissing it like a knight of old, looking at him down on his knee, still crying but that brightness in your eyes is all he needs. Your giggle makes him smile at you too. And you drop to embrace him, tucking into his chest, arms around his neck. You murmur his name, rub his back. Tangle your fingers in his hair. He settles with you, surrounded by your unmistakable presence, basking in it. Holds you tighter, trying to not squeeze the air out of you. He breathes you in, holding you through your overwhelmed clinging, wiping your tears on his shoulder.

You pull back a little, enough to kiss him, his relief is groaned into your mouth. He loses track of himself and slips, sitting in a river with you in his arms, giggling more into his kiss.

You sit with him on the banks, trying to dry out after he tipped over. So much for his fancy shirt. He thinks the both of you will look half drowned by the time he brings you back to camp but he isn’t sure he wants to go back. Just you and him for a few days sounds rather enticing. You keep looking at your ring, leaned into his shoulder. A pleased little smile blooms over your face. How can he not smile at how beautiful you look, hair wet at the ends, warm light casting its glow over you.

You look up at him, with a look that says you’re gonna cry again but you just give him a teary smile.

“I’m a lucky bastard, get to call you mine,” You wrap one tiny hand over his neck when you kiss him slow and deep, letting him consume the very air in your lungs, grip over your body to feel it. You moan just softly enough to pull on his need for you. But you part ways for you to continue.

“Did you really think I’d say no?” you give him a sad frown. As if upset that he would think such a thing of you. You brush your fingers against his skin. He looks away.

“You wouldn’t have been the first,” you sigh.

“Who could say no to Arthur Morgan?” You ask no one in particular but he huffs a small laugh.

“Many people,” a joking tone tinges his words. But then he dips towards the sentimental. “Don’t even remember, really, all I think about is you, darlin’…” You laugh before coming closer, unable and unwilling to part from him. He knows he’s a hundred and one percent sap but he lets himself melt in your presence.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me,” you wiggle your left hand in his face. He chuckles a little at your cute little fingers. “I’m glad…it means I get you all to myself,” The joy is boundless in his chest, he could light the night like a lightning bug with the flame in his heart.

“Arthur, I… I… sometimes I don’t have the words to tell you how much I love you,” you lean onto him. He shakes his head with what he’s sure looks like a stupid grin on his face. He wasn’t sure this would be in the cards for him but here he is, with you.

“Every part of me loves you, honey,” is all he has to say, paling in comparison to the pure power of your own words over him. They tumble clumsily from his mouth but you pull him down for kisses anyway. Your teasing ‘do you?’ has him nodding between your giggles and wet kisses.

-

Thank you so much for leaving me this request, I loved writing it!! It was so much fun and I really had fun including some parts of rdr1 map that were really special to me and brought me back to when I was a kid playing that game 🥹🥹🥹🥲🥲🥲❤️❤️❤️ any feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading 🥰🫶