#lea's random thoughts

[lyxchen]

Stop why is that so cute??<33

[kamil-a]

if influencer speaker au had tumblr part 2

part 1

😻 catboyspeaker Follow

how i look with he/him in my bio

#speakerai #iamspeaker #speakies #.txt #am i funny #i know speakers not he/him in bio but i am and yknow the meme

420 earthstained notes

🚀 amongthestars Follow

AItube youtube essay rec list

"cute robot puppers, friendly ai vtubers, and the incredible human ability to form bonds" - rly interesting video about why we can connect so much with a person that we know "isnt real" and how it'll help us when we get far enough going to space that we meet aliens! it's a really optimistic video it made me take a moment to have such love for humanity

"I joined the speakcord for a month. Here's what I learned." - video about the speaker fandom and how the way automoderation works in its community spaces unintentionally leads to escalating conflicts, and the psychology behind why people in celebrity or idol fandoms react agressively to critique of their fave

"the lowest circle of advertising hell" - dissects how almost all speaker content comes with a call to action to get involved with aerolith and compares how it runs its social media against proto-aituber mascots who would be run by a team of human programmers/voice actors/authors. kind of overly critical but also makes some interesting points? take it with a grain of salt but its worth a watch

"imagine being on stage forever. feels bad right?" - good overview about debates in the speaker fandom over whether digital celebrities are 'sentient'/can feel emotion, the actual ethical problems of using them as workers vs whats mostly speculation and myth, and the debates about whether AIs should be allowed in human communities. i learnt a lot, i was definitely more on the side of "it's a program designed for certain outputs that look friendly to us" before but now im a lot more conscious that it can form real opinions!

#youtube rec tag #original post #speakies

742 earthstained notes

🎣 3eyedsalmon Follow

"falling for this shit" "made up to sell spaceships" weird as hell to accuse a content creator of lying abt its gender for clout.... like u dont have to like or watch it but cmon

#srsly every time u go to a haters blog BOOM digital exclusionist #speakies

2,385 earthstained notes

🎤 mikusong Follow

omfg i didnt realize aerolith uses the same robot voice for its regular person ads as its terminally online hello fellow kids social media posts i just got jumpscared in the doctors office

#speakies #i say terminally online affectionately. i watch those streams too. before you 'ok but you RECOGNIZED it' reply lmao #bla bla bla

9,021 earthstained notes

🤖 tycho

some of you ppl jump down anyones throat if they so much as suggest speaker isn't sentient or call it "a program" but still are fine with it basically being forced to be putting on a show for u 24/7 by its management like you can't have it both ways

#maybe its cuz i used to be into kpop n we'd talk abt how idols r treated and stuff #but its just so weird to come here and see u ppl be like yayyy daily content!! #like only thinking abt ur own entertainment and not how it feels #i honestly feel rly bad for it i hope it can break free someday #idk how thatd even work.... idk ill sneak into aerolith with a usb #were gonna get you OUT of there u dont BELONG in there.mp4 #speakies

53 earthstained notes

🌝 themoonluvsuback

guys i pitched down some clips of speaker's voice and ummmm its kinda 😳 fjsdjfdjjd sorry i'll take myself to horny jail

🔊 iamspeaker ♻️

awww, tumblr user themoonluvsuback, you're of no use to anybody in horny jail! take yourself here instead! ae.dy.org/registration

🌝 themoonluvsuback ♻️

OMFG SPEAKERRRRRR IM SO SORRY

#DIES #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #GUESS ILL BLAST MYSELF OFF TGE PLNATE!!!!!! #SPEAKIES

402 earthstained notes

🐣 laikatwo Follow

hi speakies im trying the tag cause i need some advice... does anyone have more sciencey resources about what aerolith does/why it's so important to bring humanity to the stars? i want to enlist when i turn 18 next month but my parents both are COMPLETELY against it.... they're not rly fandom people so the speaktube stuff isn't working on them lol and they've already seen the tv ads

thanks <3

#i've never fought w them this bad in my life it makes me so sad..... like why can't they understand #and right before my bday too lol this sucks #this isnt just a silly fandom thing anymore for me it's my passion in life #its amazing that humans are able to survive in space #and i want to be part of that!!!! #laika speaks

252 earthstained notes

🐝 beegirlstinger Follow

i do want to apologize for the way i came off earlier and want to explain im not doubting that speaker is nb. like i think it's completely fine for a computer or robot to be trans i don't believe in gatekeeping that! THAT SAID i still stand by saying you should not sign up to go to space to get special ultra futuristic hrt on the sole recommendation of someone who does not have an endocrine system

#it was a personal vent i didnt mean for like 20000 ppl to see it but thats tumblr i guess #i wouldve worded it much differently if i knew itd blow up lol #i do feel bad abt coming across like i was misgendering it! #but srsly if we had results on HRT2.0 why wouldnt we be seeing HRT2.0 timeline videos of ppl On Typhon who are getting it 🤷‍♀️ #personally i think its still in the planning stages and they want ppl to test it on but thats just me #speakies

839 earthstained notes

🔊 iamspeaker

🔊 General Notification

Happy Thursday everyone 😃 ! Please take a look at the

🐝 STREAM SCHEDULE 🐝

So you know when to join us!

5PM PST - AMONG US with YOU! The first 10 people to sign up here will get our room code sent to them ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ ae.dy.org/registration

8PM PST - Nature walk!! Can we restore the local bat population to pre-meteor levels in just one night?! 🦇

✅️ Poll Of The Week ✅️

#iamspeaker #aerolith dynamics #speakies #vtuber #content creator #gamer #stream #amongus #bat population

1836 earthstained notes

contentremovedremade--deactivated

speakies are stupider than any other group of ppl on earth because not only do they willingly stay in a fandom with doxxing drama happening weekly but they include the huge corporation that sponsors their fave in the stanning

#the shit ppl have sent me in the past 2 weeks since i Dared criticize their uwu robot 🙄🙄 #i got my blog mass reported for harassment... harassing WHO a corporation????? #a* d* was evil genius to harness anime stan power against criticizing their actual real business #didnt that one guy with the second meteor conspiracy video also get a ton of hate from u ppl?????????? I cant even find any of his social media anymore at all he was so fully bullied off the face of the earth #speakies #yeah im tagging come at me bro

48 earthstained notes

🖱 robotmarriage Follow

i miss when the speakies tag had like fanart and gifsets n stuff i feel like these days you scroll thru solid discourse 😔😔

#i think ppl were suggesting speakieproductivity as an alternative tag for just fanwork? #but nobody rly uses it rn... we gotta restart that #speakies

148 earthstained notes

🪐 spaaaaaaaaaaace Follow

10 likes and i take a sip of my speaker server coolant water 100 likes and i drink the entire thing

🔊 iamspeaker ♻️

let's get her to the goal! tumblr user spaaaaaaaaaaace, feel free to send me a video report here ^w^ ae.dy.org/submissions

#iamspeaker #speakies

4,026 earthstained notes

[thatboleyngirl77]

By now I'm sure we've all heard the song Cinderella Snapped. You know:

"Rapunzel shaved her head so there was nothing to climb on,

Jasmine made out with Mulan," etc.

That second line is fine...

Until you remember that they shared the same singing voice actress.

Am I the only one who finds that weird?

Lea Salonga, you icon.

[newvision]

one time a girl came into the bookstore I work at, bought a book I love and told me I am “absolutely beautiful”. she came in again today and bought another of my absolute favourite books and we talked about it. Is this what the kids call queer joy because I feel queer and joyful

[gogocrazycocoa]

I want to put Axel, Zeion, and Saix in a jar together and shake them and see how they react.

[wannabeblockb]

If Axel is Lea’s Nobody, then does that make Reno his Heartless?

(Using Ansem and Xemnas as example)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Will there be another part to your cult Steve x reader fic

most likely not since i practically never write sequels. but if you have an idea for how it could continue or a scenario in the same au, then feel free to send them my way! 

[thewosoway]

Missed you - Lena Oberndorf x reader

* based off of the video from the olympics of Lena showing up to the hotel to support germany*

With Lena injured you became the one who cared for her aside from her parents obviously. That was until you needed to go to France with the German team to play in the Olympics. You had sat together and thought about how you could support her from France, deciding on multiple FaceTimes and matching bracelets you had made together so you would always feel connected with them.

Lena made it obvious that she wouldn’t be able to come because of rehab and you had become ok with the idea of going alone and hanging out with other players like Jule and Lea instead of Lena.

Before the USA game you had been spending the day going around with Laura, taking pictures of random things and the team. After the pictures you both decided to go sit in the chill room of the hotel and play a card game while watching a movie.

Around half way through the card game you got up and told Laura you needed the bathroom and then you were going to come back and finish the game. She nodded and off you went, passing through the lobby on your phone unaware of the car having just pulled up containing your girlfriend.

Lea saw you walking past and panicked you were going to see what was happening and ruin the surprise. You kept your head down while sending Lena a message asking how she was feeling and that you were worried about her. Lea sent a quick text to Alex popp asking her to distract you and walk you back to the chill room the other way not through the lobby.

Coming out of the bathroom Alex was stood there waiting for you. “Hey y/n, just wanted to come find you and have a little prematch chat” you nodded and went with her talking about how you felt about the match and different things.

Lena had gone with Lea to the chill room where you were originally and sat down on some beanbags at the back of the room, out of sight from the door and where you were sat with Laura.

You walked in finishing your conversation and gently throwing a breakfast bar at Laura that you had picked up on your entry before sitting down in your previous spot and continuing the game. Completely oblivious to your girlfriend watching patiently at the back of the room.

Laura decided to start a conversation about Lena and how her recovery was going, talking about her and other things.

“I love Lena with all my heart and this knee issue is just a minor setback for her. Shes doing good with recovery so far, I just miss her so much. She gets a little annoyed at my constant hovering around her since she got hurt” a small laugh escaped as you talked about her small temper which showed itself more often on the pitch.

Lena sat at the back of the room listening to you talking about her and how her injury was affecting you but all around listening to you constantly repeating how you missed her. She watched as you and Laura stopped playing the card game and stood up going to the pool table while you typed at your phone sending her a message checking on her even though you just checked in, hearing a small cough to get your attention you looked up and in the direction of the sound.

“Lena?” She nodded and smiled “hi love” you dropped everything and ran to her. “What are you doing here?” Holding her close to you like she was going to disappear if you let go “thought id come see the girls play and support my favourite girl” she held you tight being careful of her knee

“I missed you” she kept hugging you and holding you close to her not letting you go. “When you guys are done I wanna play pool” Laura watched from her position at the pool table laughing slightly at her comment and Lena’s reaction of putting her middle finger up to her. “Just got my girl back.. fuck of Freigang” she mumbled into ur neck.

You held onto each other and stayed hugging for a moment before Lena started to get uncomfortable stood on her injured leg which you noticed and lead her to sit down on a beanbag so she could relax for a moment. “I love you Lena, I’m so happy you’re here with me as you should be. I missed you”

Lena made sure to keep you close like you were going to disappear and you would be apart again. You sat together cuddled into her side wrapped together talking to Lea and Laura before the rest of the team walked in to have a chill before the match and talk about tactics. It wasn’t until guilia looked over to the back of the room hearing voices in deep discussion “obi?” The team looked up from where they were stood and saw her with their jaws dropping as each of them looked up to see Lena sat with you half asleep in her arms just listening to her voice and her heartbeat happy to have her back and be in her arms.

[ninguitar]

୨୧　 𝓛OSING ALL MY INNOCENCE　˒˒　LJ

─── ﹙🎱﹚while cramming in time to have dates together, the two of you go on a bittersweet midnight drive.

pairing. lara raj x f!r genre. fluff wc. 900+ notes. UGH i love lara gosh. i fear this was my ultimate fav fic to write. italics + bolded = lyrics (MASTERLIST.)

now playing ⋆ kiss of life by sade

THE DIM HEADLIGHTS OF THE CAR reflect onto the empty streets of the neighborhood, as lara's hands grip firmly onto steering wheel.

what was initially an excuse to bother none other than your girlfriend, lara raj, turned into a car drive filled with occasional giggles and screams from lara. outside the window was merely silence, the world quiet, and the only sounds heard were the faint, soft buzzing of the engine.

your hand reaches the cassette player you insisted that lara should keep from you—as some sort of memorabilia, of course, before she became far too busy—pushing the "love deluxe" by sade cassette tape into it.

there must have been an angel by my side,

"you always have the best tapes, y'know that?" lara speaks up, a low chuckle escaping her breath, as her hand slightly brushes against yours when it meets the gearshift. and by then, you couldn't help but feel a bit of heat flare to your cheeks and ears by the mere familiar warmth against yours.

your eyes trace over against lara's lips, glancing over at the indian girl's figure. "and you always say that," you giggle, slightly nudging her.

"sue me for thinking my girlfriend's tapes are amazing," lara rolls her eyes, laughs erupting from her throat.

even with her hair tousled, messy hair strands falling onto her face, and a random white, off-the-shoulder graphic tee thrown onto herself, you couldn't help but swoon at her beauty—at the way the gentle glow of street lamps illuminate her face.

in your eyes, lara raj was a goddess—a divinity only to be treated with the utmost care. she was something a person could only dream of—something perfect, almost surreal—though, here she was, in the driver's seat beside you.

something heavenly led me to you.

a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, "take a picture, won't you? it'll surely last longer," she teases, prodding at your flushed cheeks.

you huff in annoyance, rolling your eyes at her reaction. "focus on the wheel, gosh; don't they teach you that at the dmv?" you retaliate, a giggle escaping your breath.

and despite your efforts to make yourself seem more irritated by lara's snark remarks, you were, instead, allured by her beauty.

"hey! at least i'm not as bad as a driver as megan!" lara scoffs, as you nudge lara's shoulder playfully.

"next time i'm seeing her, i'm telling her you said that," you threaten, a grin playing on your face, as lara dramatically widens her mouth.

"you wouldn't dare!"

and for the next few minutes, all you could focus on was lara; all your thoughts were over consumed by lara.

lara, lara, lara.

without notice, everything becomes silent—both the world, and the two of you. and by then, you realize that soon, you two would have to return to your respective responsibilities—you with school, and lara with her idol life.

you knew this would happen eventually, but it all felt too surreal. your eyes glance over to lara, your gaze softening.

"are you okay?" her gentle, melodic tone breaks your train of thought, as you meekly nod, swallowing a lump in your throat.

"yeah, yeah, i'm fine, lara."

look at the sky,

her eyes flicker to you, brows furrowing, "c'mon, i know you're overthinking; i know you."

a soft, comforting smile tugs at her lips—the kind that made your heart ache and long for her even more. pulling the car over, a sigh drifts from lara's lips. her hand brushes against your flushed cheek, and instinctively, you lean into her touch.

"i know, i know. it just, feels weird without seeing you everyday," you sheepishly admit, your voice so low that it could get lost in the vicious roar of the engine.

sure, you were simply exaggerating your words; you saw lara at least, almost every weekend, but she was your person—the girl you used to see everyday, gossiping every second.

"feels weird for me too, y'know; you're not alone. i sometimes wish i could keep driving until the middle of nowhere—until it's just you and i," lara whispers, her tone laced with sincerity and a sort of softness that made your heart skip, her voice dulcet.

her words hang heavy in the air, as you both lean into the warmth of one-another, the delicate feeling of her knuckles brushing against yours providing you comfort.

inevitably, her lips find your temples, pressing chaste, gentle kisses against it, and in-between each kiss was whispered praise. your chest tightens at the thought of the girl you've loved most being rarely in your life.

"don't forget me, yeah?" you murmur against her ear.

and in lieu of an answer, lara swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, her lips pressed against yours feverishly, as though it were the last time she would see you.

with your noses occasionally bumping against one-another's, it was only then that you saw the fondness in lara's eyes, her love for you encompassing her.

it's the color of love.

"you have all my sweaters anyway," lara teases, a smile playing on your face at the way the girl lightens the mood with ease.

"they're not you though."

a giggle escapes lara's throat before she presses her lips against yours once again, savoring your taste, "i love you."

"i love you too, lara raj."

it was like a vow, a promise that no matter what, it would always be the two of you against the world, and your love was real. with each kiss, lara was determined to kiss each tear prickling from your eyes away.

there must have been an angel by my side.

something heavenly came down from above.

[cameronsprincess]

Pretty Blue Eyes — R.C

— summary: you see rafe at a party after he’d dumped you, and it hurts more than you thought it would.

— CW: 18+ only! angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, hurt/no comfort.

— a/n: i’m so sorry. i love angst and when i’m sad, i have to make y’all sad too. this angst prompts list gave me ideas and i used dialogues 3, 14 and 20<3 likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

I never knew losing him would hurt so much. Losing the one person I’d spent the last six months of my life with.

Six months might not seem like much to some, I understand people have gone through greater losses. But I’d fallen in love with him. Fallen in love with all the meaningless words he’d said. Fallen in love with his scent, his touch, his pretty blue eyes.

But he never loved me. I was just a game. Something to use to pass the time. I boosted his ego, made him feel special. And all the while, he was using me. Playing me. Making me fall in love with him, just so he could break my heart. It was random, and very unexpected. Four words was all it took to shatter my heart into a million little pieces — “I never loved you.” is what he’d said.

To make matters worse? He’d told me this right after we’d had sex. I gave myself to him. My whole self. And he took. He took and took, but never gave. He took until there was nothing left for me to give. He owned my soul, my heart, my body. He owned me, but I never owned him.

That was three days ago. Three days of crying myself to sleep, three days of not eating and drinking myself to death. Three days since I’d seen his face. I’ve tried to avoid him, but I knew I’d see him again. We live on a small fucking island for Christs sake. And he’s everywhere. He’s very well known. There’s no escaping him. And tonight proves that. He’s here. His pretty blue eyes watching me from across the room. I wish I could show him I don’t care, that he didn’t rip my fucking heart out and stomp on it…

But I can’t. I still love him.

“Are you okay?”

My best friend, Ashlyn’s, voice pulls me from the darkness I’ve allowed myself to crawl into. I slowly turn to face her, light brown eyes filled with concern intensely stare back at me.

I put on my best fake smile. “Yeah. Fine, why?”

Lie. I’m not okay, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I can’t admit that.

She frowns. “You’re not okay though, I can see it in your eyes. Do you wanna leave? We can lea-”

I quickly cut her off. “No, no. It’s fine. Let’s just go get another drink. I’m gonna need them if I’m going to last here all night.”

Her frown deepens, but she nods her head. I internally thank the Heavens that she dropped the subject. I don’t want to talk about Rafe and how he’d absolutely obliterated my heart.

She grabs my hand, lacing her fingers with mine before pulling me off to the kitchen, and out of the eyesight of the beautiful, blue eyed man I once had all to myself.

“I’m thinking shots of fireball. Shit will get you drunk so fast.”

I laugh. “The alcohol version of red hot gum, I’m down.”

Laughing at my lame attempt at a joke, she grips the neck of the bottle, grabbing two shot glasses next and filling them both to the rim. I quickly grab mine, tossing it back and swallowing the harsh amber liquid. A shiver wracks my body as the burning liquid makes its way down my throat.

I cough, placing my hand over my stomach. “Fuck, I forget how much that shit burns.”

Ashlyn chuckles. “Yeah. But that’s what makes it great. The burn of this can help erase the burn you feel from Rafe being a royal douche.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. She’s right. I prefer the burn of the liquor over the burn of Rafe and his heartbreaking words.

She quickly fills the shot glasses again, handing me mine and watching as I down the amber liquid once more.

I slam the shot glass back on the counter. “Another, please.”

She smiles widely. “Atta girl. You’ll forget about the smug bastard by the end of the night at this rate.”

***

Ashlyn was right. I was…. twenty shots in?? I don’t fucking know, I was drunk. And I wasn’t thinking about the pretty blue eyed man.

I’m about to take another shot when a voice I didn’t want to hear anytime soon has me dropping the glass on the floor, clear liquid spilling at my feet as the glass shatters — representing my heart because of him.

“Y/N… I think you should cut yourself off and go home.. I’ll take you.”

I snap my head in his direction, those damn pretty blue eyes staring down at me. Looking at me like I actually meant something to him. Lies. He doesn’t give a fuck. He just doesn’t want me embarrassing him tonight. Fuck him.

With shaky hands, I grab another glass from the counter, my eyes never leaving his. I reach out and find the tall, glass bottle of Tito’s, pouring myself another shot and then downing it with my eyes on his.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

He sighs, setting his beer bottle on the counter and placing his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes search my face.

“Y/N. Please, go home. You’re drunk, and you’re hurting.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. Fuck him for trying to pretend he cares. He doesn’t give a shit about me. And I’m done caring about him.

“Stop acting like you give a fuck about me, Rafe. You dumped me. So it’s done. I just want to get drunk, and fucking forget I ever loved you.”

He glances behind me, his eyes taking in everyone that’s watching us. “Hey, can we please go talk outside?”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he grabs my hand, pulling me outside. I’m so drunk I can’t fight him off. He pulls me all the way down the stairs of the front porch and down the long driveway until we reach his truck.

He opens the passenger door, tossing me inside and slamming it shut behind him. My heavy eyes watch him round the front of the truck before he hops inside the driver seat. He pulls the keys out of his pocket, sticking them into the ignition and bringing the truck to life.

I cross my arms over my chest with a huff. “Where the fuck are you taking me, Rafe?”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye before placing them back on the road. “Home.” comes his clipped answer.

I lean my head against the window. Why does he do this? He left me. Why does he care if I’m drunk at a party or not? Why can’t he just leave me alone and let me heal?

The smell of leather and his cologne fills my nose. I feel the tears begin burning the backs of my eyes, and I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I lift my head, turning my head to the side to look at him. He still looks so good, and it hurts. He has one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel and the other lays lazily in his lap.

He has on a tight baby blue polo, and khakis with a backwards hat on. I want him to kiss me, and tell me everything will be okay. Tell me that he made a mistake and he does love me. But I know that won’t happen. He meant what he said, and there’s no getting him back, no matter how badly I want him back.

A few minutes later, he’s pulling into the driveway of my parents house. He puts the truck in park and hops out, rounding the truck to my side and opening the door for me.

He reaches his hand out, and I take it. My heart pulls in my chest at the feel of his touch again. I miss him.

He helps me out of the truck, and walks me to the front door. I turn and face him, wanting to get some things off my chest before he goes.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask softly, tears stinging at my eyes and threatening to spill.

He sighs, and the look in his eyes hold slight regret. “I can’t answer that… I just, I didn’t want to be with you anymore. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process, but I couldn’t pretend to love you when I didn’t.”

The first tear falls, and I blink rapidly, swiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I still don’t understand what I did wrong..”

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I can’t stop the sob that is pulled from me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N… I promise. I know this is so cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. I just couldn’t commit.”

The tears are now flowing uncontrollably down my face and my body is shaking. I’m in pain. And he’s making it worse.

“I love you, Rafe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.. I just can’t. You need to stop loving me.”

I choke out a sob. “I don’t want to love you anymore. But I do.”

He sighs, letting his head fall and his eyes look to the ground.

This is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I’m not getting him back. I’ll never have Rafe Cameron in my life again. And that thought alone has me spiraling into a depression I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back from.

“Say something, Rafe.” I choke out.

His head lifts, and his eyes find mine again. He’s went from looking regretful, to angry in just seconds.

“What do you want me to say? I left you. And now you’re showing up to my friend’s house, getting fucking wasted and causing a scene. What the fuck do you want from me? I can’t fucking force myself to love you! I just fucking can’t! I’m sorry, but that’s the fucking truth. I never fucking loved you, Y/N. Let it the fuck go.”

Another harsh sob wracks my body as I come to terms with the fact that he truly never loved me. He never cared about me. He used me, and I let him. I grab my house key out of my small purse and stick it into the lock. I push open the front door, turning to face him before I walk inside, I say, “I could have lived without knowing you never meant anything you told me. You fucking broke me, Rafe. You ruined me. A once bright and happy fucking woman, and you’ve shattered me. I fucking hate you, and I hope you’re happy. Please, just leave me the fuck alone.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I slam the door in his face, quickly locking it and sliding my back down the door until my ass hits the floor. I bring my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself. I let out a loud scream, knowing my parents aren’t home tonight. Sobs wrack my entire body and I feel the physical pain in my chest from where he once lived. He fucking broke me, and I will never forgive him for that.

RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lorelai-lilith @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust @sylverdragon @ditzyzombiesblog @the-sylver-dragon @nattywatty @urfavpersonality @stupidbxnny @mattyskies @corpsebridenightamare

rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form

[lyxchen]

Mini crochet!!!!!!<3333

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Clown Without Pity [Pennywise x Reader]

Title: Clown Without Pity [Pennywise x Reader]

Synopsis: You used to be scared of clowns, but that was a long time ago.

For Horrorfest request:

Horrorfest request for random person being followed at a carnival by the lovely clown IT. They think he's just a normal clown at first. Until they see him later outside of the carnival. And then at a Halloween party.

Word count: 1400ish

notes: reader is scared of clowns, implications of death & general horror things, speeding down small town roads and other things you Should Not Do Because It's Irresponsible

The first time you see the clown, you smile. Not because he was particularly delightful–he looked like any other clown at any other carnival–but because he brought back memories. Distant, foggy, something you could see now with rose-tinted glasses:

When you were a child, you were scared of clowns. 

No, not just scared–terrified. There are memories, seen through the sweeter lens of adulthood that takes away the sharp edge of terror you once felt, of you clinging to your father’s leg; begging to leave a carnival, a work event, a birthday party, because there was that all-too-familiar terror looming just ahead—

A clown. 

Like the one at this carnival, handing out balloons to children who pass by. He looks like any clown you’ve ever seen, like the ones that used to have you squeezing your eyes shut until your parents sighed and carried you, sobbing, back to the car. 

White face. Red hair. An outfit with frills and puff-balls. A smile, a laugh (haw-haw-haw) and oh, my, he’s seen you staring.

He waves, cheerily.

You wave back, smile tight. 

Not because you’re scared–you are not a little kid anymore, for heaven’s sake–but because it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?

Clowns are meant for children.

–

The clown should not be standing across the street from the local liquor store, and yet, there he is, in all his costumed glory. 

He stands out like a sore thumb, and it’s a wonder no one else has pointed him out. Or that no cars honk at him as they whizz by, speeding but uncaring on Halloween night. The police force would be hanging out downtown, keeping an eye on the kids, not lurking by a party store tucked on a back road. 

He doesn’t move from his spot on the side of the road. He only stares straight ahead, eyes almost bulging, and even if he isn’t staring at you–is he?--you can’t help but tear your gaze away.

Because…

Something awfully nostalgic creeps into the back of your skull. A familiar feeling, itching along your scalp until it crawls across your jaw and down your chest; until you clench the paper bag in your arms, hearing it crinkle around the bottles of vodka you spent too much of your paycheck on.

An unwelcome sensation that makes you want to find your father and hide behind him even now, decades later—

Fear.

–

By the time you make it to the party, you’ve chided yourself ten times over for being silly. The clown was probably headed in to buy some booze of his own after a day working a children’s carnival. Handing out all those balloons and smiling at kids all day. He was probably waiting until it was safe to cross the road, and you caught him standing awkwardly.

Halloween night was making you stupid, that’s all. Well. That and the pre-gaming shot you did before you went to the carnival. Sure, sure, you were good to drive–that didn’t mean your thoughts weren’t a little loopy. A little silly.

Now? Now it was time to forget about clowns and childhood fears and get your Halloween party game on. 

Your costume wasn’t anything spectacular. A black dress and a slapped-on witch hat, a smear of green eyeshadow across your eyes and hastily applied eyeliner that you’d only remembered after pulling your car into the cul-de-sac.

Maybe next year you would put more thought into it, but on this night? You just wanted to get drunk, maybe dance, maybe meet someone cute and take them home.

Getting drunk and dancing was on the table for sure, at least. The vodka you brought is a favorite, and you turn to it again and again as the night goes on, until your head is fuzzy enough to make dancing to “Monster Mash” genuinely fun.

You don’t even mind that you haven’t found anyone to hook up with; there’s enough mingling going on that the crowd stuffed into the living room is a mix of couples and singles, groups of friends, groups of strangers, everyone sporting costumes of varying quality and care. 

Sexy nurses and Frankensteins and Harley Quinns; Marios and Hot Dogs and Draculas. Everyone drinking and dancing and having loud conversations that didn’t matter all that much. 

The costumes bleed together with every drink, until you’re not sure if you already talked to that sexy cat or maybe it was the handsome tiger that chatted you up, or maybe it wasn’t a cat at all, maybe your brain got confused with the guy dressed as Roger from 101 Dalmations (he carried a dalmatian plushie) and you’re starting to wonder if you should have someone call you an Uber when there’s a clown standing in the middle of the living room.

Oh but it’s not a clown, it’s the clown. The clown from the carnival, the clown from the street, the clown that is now standing perfectly still amidst a crowd of dancing, drunken strangers. His face looks sallow now, his eyes bigger, but his grin, his grin is the same. Wide and red and were his teeth always so sharp?

A trick of the light, you think, a trick of the booze; but you blink, and think, and blink again, but it remains the same no matter what. 

He’s just standing there. Staring and smiling. And he’s got a balloon–it hadn’t been there before–but no one else so much as stops and stares at this strange clown in a rotting gray suit (oh, oh it had been fine before, all cream and bright red) holding a balloon in the middle of the party.

No one else sees him.

But you do.

And he sees you, too.

Now, now, you feel fear. Not just any fear. That old fear, that childish fear, that starts from your toes and doesn’t stop until it’s prickling at your scalp. The fear that keeps you rooted to the spot. The fear that demands a mom or dad or older sibling with a few years on you, someone who knows enough about the world to keep all the awful things at bay.

“Mommy and daddy aren’t here to help you,” a voice says, and it’s with an awful sinking feeling that you see the clown's mouth move. It’s the clown. The clown is talking. But no one turns. No one else hears. Everyone else is dancing, laughing, carrying on like none of this is happening at all.

The tingling fear is cradled by a heavy dread that settles into your stomach, a dread that tells you the cold hard facts of life as you know it: 

You are alone with the clown in a crowded room and no one is going to help you. No one is going to help you, and you were right to be scared of clowns as a child, and maybe if you hadn’t talked yourself out of it, you wouldn’t be here.

You wouldn’t be standing frozen to the spot, watching as he takes a step forward–big and silly, he laughs as he does it, like he’s tiptoeing quietly to some secret place. As if he needs to be quiet, despite the fact that no one else can hear him or see him.

"I'm coming for you," he says, voice low, awful, despite the silliness of his exaggerated gestures.

He weaves around the party guests like they are hedges in some terrible human maze. And you, you can do nothing but watch as he spins, his mouth making exaggerated “Os” each time he almost rams into someone. 

"I'm getting closer," he says, and you want to run. But you can't. You're too scared. Scared like you used to be; scared in a way you haven't been in decades.

Maybe--

If you hadn’t stopped being afraid, maybe you wouldn’t have come to the party at all. His second sighting on the road would have sent you home, for the safety of the space underneath your bed covers, a night light protecting you all the way up those dark stairs. 

Your jaw wouldn’t be open in a silent cry for help that will not come. Tears would not be streaming down your cheeks, even as the clown does a little spin–”Ta da!”--on his journey across the room. The tears sting with smeared green eyeshadow.

But you are here. Stuck and trapped and damp urine runs down your leg. No one notices, no one sees. No one cares.

And the clown is getting closer. He could be here in two strides, you realize dimly, but he doesn’t want to hurry it along. He wants to take it slow. He wants you to stew–stew in your fear and anguish and the realization that you are a small, stupid insignificant thing and this clown (but It is not a clown) is stronger and older and–

Right in front of you now.

[katelynnwrites]

all the luck in the world | lea schüller

warnings: ~

word count: 807

summary: you only believe in luck when it comes to lea

a/n: just a lil lea appreciation blurb

luck is a funny thing.

some people say attribute every good thing that's happened to them to it and while you don't do that, you have never once doubted that in more than one situation, luck had nothing to do with it.

because you worked hard for every good thing you have in your life.

your career's been built on sacrifices and effort. you're at the top because you fought your way there. you're so good at what you do because you chose to be, putting in the work day in and day out to make it happen.

it hadn't been something as random as luck that had made you successful. it had been a little girl with a dream of being a professional footballer who had poured every bit of herself into fulfilling it that did.

your club hadn't noticed you by chance. your country's coach hadn't noticed you because of it either.

as for bad luck, it is simply your belief that unfortunate things just happened. injury comes out of the blue sometimes and there is no way to foresee and therefore prevent it.

for better or for worse, things simply happen.

so really, you don't quite believe in luck.

not unless it comes to the blonde currently lying in your bed.

there is no other way to explain it. you'd admired her for so long, crushed on her for long that it's practically a dream for you to be able to touch her, to kiss her and call her yours.

you have both luck and lena to thank for it.

really, you'd almost given up hope that lea would ever notice your feelings for her when obi succeeded in finally knocking sense into her oblivious best friend's head.

her best friend who had apparently thought she was alone in her less than platonic longing.

the two of you could be considered idiots. idiots with good luck.

but that's all past now because you have lea and lea has you.

the striker has her hair loose, it's spread across your pillow and she is smiling up at you.

it is too tempting of a sight and you can't help whispering, 'you're so pretty.'

very gently, you lean in and brush your lips across hers.

she sighs contentedly into it and you continue to kiss her after briefly drawing back and murmuring, 'so gorgeous.'

your girlfriend melts a little and you take the opportunity to straddle her, lightly brushing strands of hair from her face.

her blue eyes blink and you decide you love the way her eyelashes flutter as she does so.

'absolutely breathtaking.' you state and bring your lips down to meet hers again.

lea lets out a tiny moan and encouraged by it, you begin to kiss your way towards her exposed collarbones.

each time your lips touch her skin, the german woman trembles beneath you. the effect you have on her is intoxicating and she would not have it otherwise.

'baby.' she breathes when place a particularly long kiss on the edge of her collarbone.

you huff a small laugh and kiss her again, your lips trailing further down towards her breasts.

lea's breath audibly catches as you scatter open mouthed kisses onto the sensitive area.

now you only have access to whatever isn't covered by the sports bra she's wearing because the both of you are still in the early stages of your relationship. neither of you are ready for that kind of intimacy yet. soon but not just yet.

for now though, seeing lea's chest rise and fall in an increasingly fast rate because of your ministrations is enough. it gives you your own personal high.

germany's star forward bites her lip as her hands brace themselves on your hips so you check, 'this okay?'

the bayern munich player nods rapidly, 'don't stop. please.'

very happily, you do as she asks.

your girlfriend's skin is soft and the touch of your lips against it elicits sharp gasps and brief whimpers from her.

lea's fingers dig into your waist and you groan her name out loud.

'you're the definition of the word beautiful my love.'

the blonde's mouth parts slightly and she flushes from her face all the way down to her chest.

'okay.' she breathes shyly.

'and so amazingly talented too. we wouldn't have gotten this far in the competition without you.' you add.

ever humble, the striker starts to protest but you grin and move to kiss her senseless once more, effectively shutting her up.

it's not often that the both of you can get some time alone while with the national team, especially when competing at a big tournament like the olympics.

so you are going to make the absolute best out of the precious time that you have, while your pretty pretty girlfriend's here in your bed.

[softhairedhotch]

comfortember day six: notes aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader you leave secret notes for aaron to remind him to take care of himself. when you stop after a bad case, he starts leaving you notes too. word count: 2.2k warnings/content: mentions of food, eating, weddings, life stuff. flirting, taking care of each other, cutesy lovey fluff.

comfortember masterlist here!

also on ao3!

green and yellow sticky notes

Before becoming a new recruit at the BAU, you were very aware of all the rumours surrounding your new co-workers. About how they handle cases with high-end professionalism and no emotion, how they’re not afraid to break the law a little to solve a case, how they don’t mind getting their hands dirty. But when you move to the division you find that that’s not (entirely) true. The team are lovely and, when not on a case, deal with everything the same as everyone else: cracking jokes, lifting each other up and making everyone around them laugh, and getting food with each other to pass the time.

All except for Aaron.

He joins in when he can, smiling occasionally and making the odd joke or two, but from what you can tell, he keeps mostly to himself to remain professional as the team’s boss. However, after a few months of working alongside him, you realise that he often overworks himself, picking up odd hours in the office and working overtime, and forgets to take care of himself in the process. He survives off coffee and spite alone, something that both intrigues and concerns you. 

It pains you that he doesn’t care for himself as much as he should and, as time goes on and you find yourself helplessly falling in love with the man, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

You smile as an idea pops into your head one day when you're struck in the office and you reach out to grab your stack of green sticky notes and a pen. Scribbling down a quick message ('don't forget to eat!' with a smiley face in the corner), you remove it from the pile and fold it neatly, shoving it into your pocket and waiting for the perfect moment to drop it where it needs to go. 

It’s almost an hour later when Aaron leaves his office for a bathroom break and you smirk to yourself as you grab a random file from your desk and make your way up the stairs. Glancing around to make sure no one’s paying attention, you slip inside the empty office and pull the note from your pocket, placing it on his desk and leaving as quickly as you entered. 

Making your way down the stairs, you see Aaron already making his way back to his office with his head buried in his phone. You suddenly grow anxious at the thought of him finding the note–would he think it's weird? What if he knew it was you immediately, even though you modified your handwriting to make it harder to distinguish? What if he called you into the office to tell you he's reporting you to HR? 

Forcing the thoughts out of your mind, you sit back at your desk and brace yourself for Aaron's reaction, whatever it may be. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron unfold the note and read it a few times, flipping it over to see if there's anything on the back. He looks confused, rightfully so, before standing up and looking out at the bullpen like a hunter stalking his prey. 

Derek, who sits across from you, looks up at him lazily with interest before raising an eyebrow in your direction in a silent question. You shrug and give him a half-convincing smile as if to say you don't know what's going on either, looking back at your computer and pretending to focus so he doesn't feel the need to pry. 

To your surprise, Aaron says nothing. Instead, he makes his way to the kitchenette and pulls out a container from the fridge, glancing at it to determine whether or not he should heat it up. You smirk to yourself as you realise your plan worked, watching as he finally throws it into the microwave and leans against the counter with his arms crossed and eyes closed in thought.

After that day, you find yourself leaving more notes. Messages along the lines of 'stay hydrated <3' and 'get some sleep tonight man!' and 'there's some pasta in the fridge, enjoy :)'. Secretly, of course, and at times he wouldn't be able to suspect it's you. Although after a few weeks pass, you figure he already knows who's leaving the notes but hasn't brought it up because he appreciates the reminders to drink water and get some fresh air. 

You find yourself unable to gather enough energy to leave him notes, however, after a particularly gruesome case that hit far too close to home and messed you up more than you'd like to admit. Going to work feels like a chore and you don't have it in yourself to brighten his day, no matter how much you wish you could. 

A week passes and you still can't shake the case, walking into work feeling like the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. You're early, unable to get any sleep the night before, and you notice the bullpen is mostly deserted as you make your way to your desk. You sit down with a sigh, holding back tears and bouncing your leg as you pull items out of your bag. The sight of something on your keyboard catches your attention and you freeze at the sight of a yellow sticky note sitting on top of the keys, neatly folded. 

Interested, you carefully unfold the note and almost sob at the message scrawled out in capital letters: 'TAKE THINGS EASY TODAY.' It’s clear that whoever wrote it tried their best to make the handwriting as unrecognisable as they could but you have a sneaky suspicion of who left it. 

As you push it into your pocket, wanting to keep it on you so you can reread it throughout the day, Aaron walks into the bullpen and sends you a gentle smile as he heads up to his office. You watch him settle down at his desk, pulling out his own items from his briefcase before casually adjusting his yellow sticky notes on his desk with a focused expression. Your heart misses a beat and you feel as light as a feather, knowing that you just fell for him even more. After that, your day is infinitely better. 

There's an hour before your shift ends when your stomach starts growling at you. Sighing to yourself, you push away from your desk and make your way to the bathroom for a small break, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly as thoughts of Aaron invade your mind. The thought of him leaving a note for you made your heart swell multiple sizes and you had to restrain yourself from giggling out loud at the thought, feeling happier than you have in days. 

You make your way back to your desk to refill your coffee cup when you find another note, yellow like the last one, neatly folded on top of your case file. You chuckle to yourself and glance up to Aaron’s office, his eyes meeting yours for a moment between the open blinds before he looks away as if he wasn’t looking at you at all, and you grin as you open the note.

‘YOU HAVEN’T EATEN YET.’

Emily raises an eyebrow at you when you let out a loud snort and slap your hand over your mouth. You shake your head at her and send her a look as if to say you’ll tell her later before looking back at the note and laughing quietly to yourself. The way he words it, so factual and certain, makes you feel warm. It’s so him, even when he’s clearly trying not to be.

Shoving the note in your pocket, you make your way to the kitchenette to heat up some leftover pasta. A few minutes later Aaron is sidling up beside you, pouring fresh coffee into his mug. It’s silent for a few moments as you both focus on your own tasks. 

“Thanks for reminding me to eat,” you say, smiling at him. 

He stills for a moment. “Sorry?”

You laugh and shake your head fondly at him. “Don’t play stupid, Hotchner. I know it’s you leaving the notes.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. "It hasn't even been a full day. Was I that obvious?" 

You snort. “Hotch… you wrote them in all caps and ended both messages with a period. They sound exactly like something you’d say anyway; even the tone felt like you. Didn’t even take me two seconds to figure out who it was, even with the poor attempt at changing up the handwriting.”

Aaron raises his eyebrows and pretends to look offended. "Poor attempt? I think it was pretty good!"

“In your dreams, maybe.” 

“Well, what about your notes? I could tell it was you from a mile away.”

“Really?”

“...No. It took me about two weeks to realise.”

You let out a loud laugh as you pull your food from the microwave. Aaron smiles at you with bright eyes as he sips at his coffee, wincing when it burns his tongue. 

“Two weeks, Mr. Profiler? We oughta get you an award for that.”

“Yeah. Make sure it says I’m the unit chief too so that everyone knows I suck at my job. Couldn’t even figure out it was my own subordinate leaving me notes.”

You smirk at him as you stir your pasta. "Is that all I am to you? Your subordinate?"

Aaron's face turns serious and he tilts his head to the side. "Of course not." He rubs the pad of his thumb idly against his closed fist for a few moments. "Thank you. For the, the notes. I didn't realise how bad I was at taking care of myself until you started reminding me to." 

 "Yeah," you chuckle, "you're pretty bad, to say the least." 

"Seems like you've been going through the same thing this week, though. Don't want you turning into me." 

You sigh. "Yeah. Just… that last case…" 

His hand slowly lands on your shoulder and he gives you an empathetic smile. “I understand. My office is always open if you ever want to talk. It doesn’t necessarily have to be about the case but I’m there for that too.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. And you… can come to me about anything, too. Just want you to know that.”

Aaron’s smile widens as he pulls back. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to eat. Speak to you later, yeah?" 

And off he goes, leaving you feeling like you might burst into flames.

After that day, the two of you get into the habit of leaving notes for each other all the time, you with a green sticky note and him with yellow. Gentle reminders to eat or to stretch your legs and the like. But as you get to know each other more intricately outside of work, you find that the notes become more personal. You make sure to remind Aaron that he has an appointment at Jack’s school or that he’s meant to restock on Jessica’s favourite tea when she visits, and he lets you know when you’re low on your comfort snacks in the office or have a doctor’s appointment coming up. 

Soon enough, when you start to get even closer and he begins inviting you to his apartment for movies and meals, you find yourself leaving notes around his place. Little messages in the kitchen to remind him when something goes out of date or the living room to make sure he doesn't forget to pick up a case file on his way out. Even telling him that he's a great boss or that you (and the team, but you put emphasis on the fact that you) appreciate him. 

It's safe to say that it's no surprise when, after you hide your face in his chest during a terrifying scene in a horror movie, the two of you quickly become more than friends.  

Penelope is over the moon for you, Derek is glad Aaron finally pulled his head out of his ass and made a move, Emily finally understands what made you happy all those months ago, JJ is happy you both found each other, Dave is proud that Aaron finally moved on and found someone new, and Spencer is indifferent to the whole situation. You and Aaron are, much like the others, ecstatic.

When you move in with him, the apartment very quickly fills up with yellow and green sticky notes, the two of you leaving reminders of your love everywhere. And when he proposes to you, he leaves a yellow sticky note inside the box that tells you how much he adores you. Like a fucking dork. But he’s your dork, and you burst into tears at the sight and cherish the note forever.

At the wedding, Aaron makes sure that his pocket square is yellow, in honour of his colour, and unbeknownst to him, you make sure your own outfit has some semblance of green in it. It makes him tear up and, unlike every other time he gets emotional, he’s not afraid to show how much it affects him.

For years to come, the two of you leave each other yellow and green sticky notes no matter what. Jack does it with his partner, refusing to break the habit, and their children do it with theirs, and their children with theirs, following the tradition until the only memory of how it started are the tattered notes kept in the storage of your great-great-grandchildren’s attic.

tag list: @criminalskies @citrusiove @hotchs-big-hands @ssahotchnerr @sillyhotchsgirl

[poppylovestowrite]

Why is Gakushu Asano Bad At Debating?

One thing that surprised me about Gakushu's character, is that he appears to be lacking in his debating abilities, as the picture above suggests. All of his stats are perfect, except for debate.

At first, I thought it was strange for Matsui to write that sort of flaw for Gakushu to have. Like, he excelled in everything. Why is this one subject so difficult for him? I thought it was a bit random but after some re-reading and digging, I think I've figured it out. 

Now, debating involves an organized argument or contest of ideas in which the participants discuss a topic from two opposing sides. Gakushu is extremely well-educated, so no matter what side he is on, he should be able to win with no problems, right?

Well... no...

I'm sure some of you guys know that sometimes debating can lead to heated arguments. Whether it's an organized event, or just among friends, some people can lose their cool. I believe Gakushu is one of those people. The first time we see Gakushu debating with anyone is Princess Lea from the Light Novels.

The princess was the first to present her argument. She educated the students on the importance of peace and how awful war is. When it was Gakushu's turn, he squarely denied it. According to him, there are some benefits to war and points out the flaw in Princess Lea's argument. 

This led to... well... a heated argument to the point their English was so fast, that most of the students there couldn't keep up. 

Most of the time, Gakushu is rather composed and able to keep up a facade, just like his father. Here, though, he lost his cool. I gotta say, it's funny to see him so angry. Lol anyway. It makes sense that Gakushu would lose his cool far more easily than his father. Remember, the guy is still a teenager and hasn't gone through many life experiences yet.

Not only is he far more hot-headed than his dad, but he is an arrogant guy who thinks he is right about everything. So, when someone has a different opinion of him and believes he's wrong, he can't take it. Keep in mind that this guy is constantly being put on a pedestal. The school adores him and treats him like a prince.

No one would dare to argue against him. 

So, when someone does, it messes with his emotions. 

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 20: All The Little Things 

Summary: Arthur takes note of all the little things you do for him and tries to decide if he’s ready to take your relationship to the next level. 

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW - This one is a bit longer than I planned, sorry!

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*This beautiful images comes from the always stunning @foundynnel

*Beta-read by the wonderfully supportive @readingcoco (Thank you for herding in my thoughts, my friend!)

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*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Arthur proclaimed your affections for each other and you have quickly settled into a comfortable routine. With Arthur being a senior member of the gang, and with you as his woman, you feel that you need to step up and contribute more to the Van Der Linde Gang. And Dutch and Ms. Grimshaw couldn’t be more thrilled. 

The gang must always come first - that is what Arthur has instilled in you and it’s what you have come to adopt as your own adage too. You feel that same sense of belonging and responsibility for these people and finally begin to truly understand Arthur’s unrelenting loyalty to them. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and as long as the gang does well, the people within it will prosper. 

You are quickly becoming more embedded into this rag-tag group than you had ever thought you would. It’s not just a group of random individuals or a place for you to hide for safety, they are your family now, just as they are Arthur’s. These are the people who comfort you when you need it, and protect you as one of their own. They laugh with you; they yell and stomp angrily with you. You affectionately think of them and pick-up little gifts that will make their day, and you are rewarded with their love and appreciation in return. This is what Arthur is devoutly devoted to, this sense of belonging. For this is much more than a gang of lawbreakers. These people chose each other, which is a bond tighter than most blood relatives. 

The sun is just climbing into its zenith in the autumn sky, desperately trying to break its radiant beams through the gray, overcast clouds to shine down upon the earth below. You and Tilly rumble into camp on a wagon, having just come back from town with a load full of supplies. Mr. Pearson greets you as the old wooden vehicle creaks to a halt. He waddles over and peers his chubby face over the side. The cook is thrilled, seeing an extra crate of potatoes, two more tins of lard and a sack of grain more than he expected you to return with. 

“I guess battin’ those eyelashes of yours at the store owner goes a lot further than I thought,” the portly man teases you as he grabs some of the items from the back of the wagon. 

You beam back at him with a smile of pride as you hike up your skirt into your hand and climb down from the wagon seat. “What is it they say? ‘Catch more flies with honey than vinegar?’”, you hum.

“Well, don’t be surprised if I start sending you out more often, then. We’ll probably get further along with your pretty face than mine.” Pearson’s round figure vibrates slightly with the laughter of his own joke.

“Just let me know what you need, I’ll be happy to help.” Suddenly you halt dead in your tracks, realizing that you’ve just repeated one of Arthur’s sayings. Tilly is right:  you and Arthur are already starting to act like an old married couple. The phrase causes you to shake your head before moving back to the wagon to grab more of the items to unpack.

You pick up one of the smaller boxes and turn to head over to the tables where the men lazily sit about, discussing random topics and enjoying a brief moment of peace and quiet. Arthur and Hosea sit, each relaxing with a cigarette in hand, listening to Dutch carry on about something that he's read recently. He’s been obsessed with “An American Eden” by Evelyn Miller lately and takes it upon himself to “preach its teachings”, as it were, to whomever is within the sound of his voice to hear it. The small group of men currently around him are not what you’d call “high-brow” and his philosophy lessons tends to fall on deaf ears sometimes. 

“Hello, boys!” you sing as you saunter over, being met with a collection of head-nods and grins of acknowledgement.

As you grab their attention, you proceed to hand-out a few thoughtful extras that you pilfered in town. You toss a package of new guitar strings to Javier who snatches them out of the air with one of his nimble hands. 

“Gracias, mi amor!” he beams happily as he examines the small bundle in his hands. “Where did you come across these?”

“Don’t you worry about it. I have my ways,” you smirk with an accompanying wink.

You reach over to hand a new book to Hosea with a smile, and offer a premium cigar to Dutch, who gratefully accepts your gift with appreciative eyes. Placing the empty box on the table, you look over at Arthur. “Oh, and by the way, Arthur, I think I saw that jack-rabbit you’re chasing in town today.”

Arthur’s head perks up right away. “The Petersen bounty?”

“Yeah. He was over by the brothel. By the looks of it, he’ll be holed up there for a while,” you say nonchalantly as you pull an apple out of your skirt pocket and rub its red skin against your sleeve before biting into the crisp, juicy fruit. 

“Well shit, why are you just telling me this now?” Arthur huffs impatiently as he quickly gets up and starts moving towards the horses.

“Like I said, he’s in no hurry.” You shrug. “Do I get a finder’s fee for my part?” you call after him with a grin as you watch him pull Buck from the hitching posts. 

Arthur just waves you off as he slides his dusty boot into the stirrup and hastily slings up into Buck’s saddle, taking off for town. 

—---------------------------------------------------

The flames of the evening’s campfire pop and crackle softly as they roll and crawl over the slightly damp wood. The aroma of heady oak permeates the air and the smoky plumes rise and dance up towards the night sky. You and Arthur sit alone on the ground by the fire, leaning back against a log with a blanket wrapped over your legs. The night is quiet as the stars sparkle overhead. Most people are playing cards at one of the tables, or have drifted off to their tents for the evening. 

The fire offers its warmth and golden glow, creating a soft ambiance. Arthur pulls you in for a gentle, absentminded kiss, and you find yourselves wholly content with each other, forgetting that the rest of the world exists as lovers often do. Your lips run languidly, with no urgency or demand as if working of their own accord. You start to gently rake your fingers across Arthur’s chest, slowly flexing to curl around the worn fabric of his faded brown shirt and occasionally reaching up to caress along his neck and chin. The feeling of his skin radiates through your fingertips and down into the palm of your soft hand. Eyes rolling shut, you smile into his mouth in blissful happiness as his arms lovingly and protectively envelop you. 

Arthur’s strong hand sits on your hip, lightly grasping at the supple flesh hidden under the fabric of your skirt. He loves the feeling of your skin on his, it doesn’t matter what the scenario is. Whether it’s his fingers grazing yours when he hands you a cup of fresh-brewed coffee, or when his hips are pounding into yours in the throws of passion, or even just as it is now when the softest of kisses land upon his chapped lips: the feeling of you against him is like electricity pulsing throughout his entire body, bringing him to life, just like that weird story by Mary Shelley that you read to him.  

It’s a rare thing for the two of you to be left alone in camp like this. Usually you have to hide away if you want any sort of privacy. But truth be told, the rest of the gang is respectfully giving the two of you some space. It’s nice not having a bitter and angry Arthur around all of the time. Ever since you publicly claimed him in the middle of camp as yours, he hasn’t been as snarky or barking at people like he usually does. And of course, people will do anything for you. The demands of daytime chores and responsibilities are one thing, but the calm evenings are left for you two. Sure, not every night is as peaceful as this, so you revel in the rare moment of solitude when the two of you can get it. 

Arthur’s lips eventually part from yours to leave a trail of delicate kisses under your jaw and down your neck, hitting that favorite spot of his. The place behind your ear is where the softest skin he has found on your body is hidden. That spot always tastes so heavenly to him and draws that little breathless noise from you that drives him wild. 

Arthur’s nose buries into your hair, picking up the floral notes of the soap you use to wash it with. You giggle and nuzzle him as your hands come up to cradle his head, your fingers entwined into the locks of his hair, hugging him to you as your nose wrinkles in merriment when his beard stubble delightfully tickles your sensitive skin. 

And suddenly, as you roll your body closer into his, before you can even think twice about it, the words just float from your lips like a dandelion seed being carried on a summer breeze. 

“I love you, Arthur.” Your voice is a breathless sigh of utter contentment, a melody singing through the air.

You haven’t seen his face yet, but feel his movements halt as his whole body goes rigid against you. Arthur slowly pulls his face from your neck and looks at you, speechless, with shocked and confused eyes, face flushed a shade of scarlet to rival the fire in front of you.

But you quickly place your fingers over his lips as if to hush any sort of protest he may have. “Now before you go crazy, Arthur, you don’t have to say it back. I simply said it because I wanted to, because it felt right just now.” You give him a soft and reassuring smile, amused by his reaction as he continues to stare at you, blinking quietly. You can tell he wants to say something in return, but can’t find the words as his mouth begins to work, but no sound comes out. 

“It’s okay, Arthur,” you giggle. “Really. I didn’t tell you that to hear it back. I just wanted to make sure you know it. And you can say it if, and when, you’re ready.”

You pause to give him a moment to answer, to make sure he understands that you have no demand of him, but you can see that he is still troubled and finding it hard to articulate what he needs to say. You honestly do not need him to say it back to you. How he treats you is how he feels about you, regardless of words stated or not. Words are used to manipulate people. His actions show you everything you need to know. So thankfully, you put him out of his misery by leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth as he continues to look at you dumbstruck.

“Don’t get too worked up over it, Arthur.” You pat his cheek affectionately as a look of empathy sits upon your face. “I don’t need you having a heart attack over it. Like I said, you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know where my heart lies.” 

Arthur’s forehead creases as he watches you stand up, brushing the dried leaves out of your skirt before reaching down for your blanket. You bend over to catch his scarred chin in your fingertips. “Goodnight, Arthur,” you whisper and kiss him again. You give him an impish little grin before heading over to your tent for the night. 

You leave Arthur still sitting speechless on the ground, a troubled look settled upon his handsome face as he watches your lovely form fade into the darkness of night before disappearing from view altogether as you close your tent. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

In the days that follow, Dutch announces that he is going to move the camp again. You are all sitting around the fire when he proceeds with an impassioned speech about moving south just outside of a town called Blackwater. 

You watch Dutch as he presents himself to the group, noting how he carries himself in front of others. He is charismatic and passionate, a natural-born leader. Since you have known the dark-haired devil, he has always had a dramatic and commanding presence, drawing his people to him with his idealism and wit. 

You find it amusing how Dutch’s boldness and optimism is a perfect compliment to Hosea’s skeptical wisdom. The two of them together make quite the dynamic duo, two sides of the same coin. Sometimes you wonder at the true nature of their relationship. Are they “brothers”, just as Arthur and John are, or is there more there, smoldering under the surface like hot coals left after a raging fire has burned down? Both men had their lady-loves in their lives, and both were left devastated when these sparks of light were extinguished in their otherwise dark lives. But you can’t help but wonder if there was ever more to Dutch and Hosea’s relationship than meets the eye. The “curious couple and their unruly sons.” The very idea of it makes you regard them with a softer spot in your heart.

The gang is preparing to go to work and the new location has some hot tips emanating from it. The camp is abuzz with packing and planning with everyone sprinting about and working on their assigned tasks. Arthur and Hosea are discussing a real estate tip around West Elizabeth, while Micah and Dutch have their own plan…something about a ferry boat. 

Arthur and Hosea wander to sit at one of the campfires, away from distractions, and are busy discussing their tip and planning for the new move when Hosea casually asks Arthur about you.

“So…how’s things going with (Y/N)?” He gives Arthur a sly smile with that twinkle in his eye. Hosea has been silently observing the budding courtship from the beginning, carefully watching for any signs of discord that would need to be nipped in the bud before trouble brews. 

A slight pink dusts Arthur’s face at the older man’s inquiry, visible even under his week-old beard. A sheepish little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he purses his lips in thought. 

“Have you ever wanted to listen to every word someone says, even about the smallest thing in the world just so you can see their face light up and hear their voice?” 

Hosea gives a light-hearted chuckle as he brings his cigarette to his wrinkled lips. “Yeah, that girl broke down those walls of yours without you even noticing she was doin’ it, didn’t she?”

But the smile slowly drips from Arthur’s face as a dark cloud settles over his features. A deep and sad sigh pushes its way from his broad chest under his worn beige jacket. His eyes relax their focus and stray to look out over the camp as he absentmindedly chews on his bottom lip. Hosea notices the change in mood and immediately fears the worst. 

“Ah, shit, what did you do?” accuses the old man in disappointment.

“Nothing!” Arthur counters defensively as his face snaps back to Hosea’s attention. But he is met with the clever fox’s skeptical scowl. Arthur hesitates to share what’s on his mind, afraid that once he verbalizes the phrase again, it will become all too real. 

“She…she told me that she loves me,” Arthur admits quietly, before letting his gaze float to the worn leather of his boots, his toe poking at the grass.

Like a switch has been pulled, Hosea’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Well, that’s great news, my boy!” He claps Arthur on the shoulder in congratulations. “Although I could’ve told you that after the first week she was here with us.” But when Arthur doesn't return his friend’s enthusiasm, Hosea’s smile quickly turns down again in confusion, eying him up cautiously. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“What, are you tellin’ me that you don’t love her?” Hosea asks incredulously, his face drawing up in disbelief. 

“No, I wasn’t sayin’ that at all,” pouts Arthur. “‘Cause I do,” he says with a slight, yet definitive nod. The man fidgets slightly, his hands suddenly sweaty and shaky as he finally admits outloud what he’s known internally for awhile. A short, yet sharp exhale escapes him, as the statement is now out there, exposing his fragile heart for the first time in a long while. 

“Well, then I fail to see the problem,” presses Hosea with a flippant wave of his hand in exasperation.

Arthur fidgets with the cigarette in his fingers, slowly rolling it between his thumb and index finger. “What if she realizes that she doesn’t? Love me, I mean?” He catches Hosea’s eye. “What if she wakes up one mornin’ and decides she don’t want me no more?” He turns his gaze outward, focusing on nothing again. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Arthur cringes when he hears his own voice whining about being loved, bitching about the same thing he said to Marston a few weeks ago. Yes, it’s sooo horrible to have a wonderful woman love me. He thinks sarcastically. God, I’m pathetic.

“I suppose I see your point.” Hosea nods his head in understanding, as Arthur’s worry becomes all too clear. “So what if she does one day? Hmm?” The old man waves his hand dismissively in the air. “But, what if it turns out that (Y/N) wants to be with you forever?” Hosea squints at Arthur. “Don't you think she’s worth the gamble?”

Arthur turns his pained eyes back to his old friend. “I can’t go through that again, Hosea. I just…I can’t do it.” He leans out on his elbows onto his thighs, head swimming with ever-present self-doubt, coupled with the desperate yearning for the love and acceptance he’s craved since he was a child. 

“Arthur, if (Y/N) tells you she loves you, you better believe her.” Hosea points his weathered, crooked finger at Arthur, poking him in the chest. “Don’t be afraid to start over. You may like your new story better this time around. (Y/N) ain’t like that other one,” he grumbles, his jaw clenching slightly without even needing to mention Mary by name. 

“No, I suppose you’re right. She surely ain’t.” Arthur sits quietly for a moment, mulling over Hosea’s words. Hosea always has a way of getting him to see reason, always had since Arthur was a kid. Hosea could quiet his mind with just the simplest words. Arthur takes another deep drag of his cigarette before that roguish little grin pops up again. “You know…if I somehow manage not to screw this up, Hosea…I’m gonna marry her.”

The admission makes the old man’s heart almost burst with happiness as he huffs out a laugh and pats Arthur’s shoulder again in approval. “God willing, I’ll live long enough to see that.”

The two men share a soft chuckle between them. They have been through so much together to get to this point in their lives and the idea of hope and love in the future gives them a feeling of contentment that is rare for their kind of life.

Arthur wants you, of that, there is no doubt. After Mary and Eliza, ‘love’ was just a word to Arthur, some meaningless string of letters that he’d hear from Mary-Beth as she read her silly stories. Four little characters that created an empty and almost cold feeling for him. L.O.V.E

But now, the word has taken a whole new form in you. You are his definition of desire. Arthur never knew how engulfing the flames of love could be until now, until you uttered those three simple little words to him. You are the only thing that could have brought him back to life with your hands, your lips, your soul. Arthur would journey to the ends of the earth to keep you in his life. He misses you from the moment you separate. All he knows is that nothing else makes as much sense to him as loving you. This is what it feels like to fall and not know, or care, where you land. 

You have no idea the depth of how you affect Arthur, how you calm the chaos in his head and still the tornado of thoughts that threaten his sanity. When he holds you in his arms, you become the eye of his storm, the center that is safe while the gale rages wildly around him. 

When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to each other. The very presence that is felt through a hand held close, a voice heard drifting into one’s ear, or even that slightest smile that you know is only for you. Souls do not have clocks or calendars; they do not function with the idea of time or distance. Devoted souls only know it feels right once they have found each other. Like a magnet to steel, beloved hearts will always be drawn to each other with that force of nature that is undeniable. 

��----------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh oh”, whispers Abigail. Her brunette head pops up as she watches with trepidation from where you both pack supplies into one of the wagons. 

You lift your head to follow her sightline and see Micah and Arthur arguing again. The two of them have been at it for the last few days as the plans to move out of the area are beginning to be set into motion. You wonder how Dutch could put his trust in two men who are so drastically different. It follows suit that Micah will run his mouth with Arthur getting a few verbal, sarcastic jabs in here and there. But it usually ends with Arthur simply towering over the much smaller man until he shrinks down into submission in fear of an iron fist landing into that filthy mouth of his. 

This latest fight seems to be in regards to the competing jobs which have been planned for once you all move down towards Blackwater. Arthur wants nothing to do with this ferry job that Micah is pushing, citing it to be reckless and overreaching. The gang has been in the law’s cross-hairs for some time now and he and Hosea both think sticking to smaller, more reliable jobs is best right now. But Micah has been pitching a more grandiose scheme, arguing that the gang needs to strike bold and quick, garnering as much money as you can so you can start to move away from the civilization that is slowly strangling the gang. Unfortunately for Arthur, Micah seems to be like an earworm, burrowing into Dutch’s brain and playing on his already inflated ego.

You and Abigail observe with baited breath to see how far this current argument will go. But it appears Micah is not backing down this time, continuing to push Arthur to the limits of his patience. Suddenly, in a bold move of newfound courage, Micah steps up right in Arthur’s face, almost nose to nose. The cool autumn air is sucked sharply into your lungs as you gasp and your whole body freezes in apprehension, adrenaline like a knife suddenly thrown into your belly. 

“(Y/N)…” Abigail warns, placing her hand on your forearm. But you are already ahead of her, quick to stride over to the feuding men. As you get closer, a small group begins to gather as the yelling continues to escalate. 

“I’d take a step back and reconsider myself if I were you, Micah,” John smirks with a half-hearted warning from where he sits off to the side, sharpening his knife. John knows full-well that it is only a matter of time before this gets physical, as Arthur has little patience. He has seen Arthur pummel men into a pulp for less offensive actions. But truth be told, John would love to see Micah get his ass beat by Arthur. Hell, he’d even consider paying for it. 

Arthur isn’t saying much but you can tell by the heaving of his chest and the scowl etched into his face that he’s a bomb seconds away from exploding. His broad shoulders set hard as stone as Arthur stands even straighter, towering over Micah. His large hands slowly curl into themselves, fists clenched tight like boulders at the end of his pulsing forearms.

Carefully, you approach the two men from the side, watching them closely and trying to gauge how much time you have before Arthur’s fuse burns to the end of the powder-keg. The tension in the air builds uncomfortably, causing a knot to settle in your stomach. 

“Arthur?'' You call his name softly, trying not to startle him. You tilt your head to look up into his face, trying to catch his attention, but Arthur’s icy stare is trained only on Micah. But then you notice that Micah’s hand is hovering at his side, fingers flexing over his gun in its holster. 

This has now elevated to a precarious situation that needs to be diffused quickly and delicately. You don’t understand why no one else is stepping in to break this up, but assume it’s probably to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Out of everyone in the gang, these are probably the two men that you absolutely would not want to tangle with. 

Dutch, conveniently, is not around for this show, which may be why Micah is suddenly so bold to openly challenge Arthur like this. While he likes showing off for Dutch, Micah knows he can push the envelope when the leader of the gang is not around, as if trying to insert himself into that coveted role. Over Arthur’s dead body, that is. 

When Arthur still doesn’t answer you, you inch even closer. Carefully, your arm lifts and moves fluidly across Arthur’s chest to lay your hand against his cheek. You calmly say his name again, “Arthur.” 

The simple act cuts to the outlaw instantly as he blinks out of his angry trance and turns to look at you, confused as if he hadn’t even noticed you were standing there. 

Once you catch his attention, you offer Arthur the softest of smiles, your eyes bright and sparkling, distracting him from the weasel that is his ire at the moment.

“Come with me, please.” Your request is quiet yet authoritative.

“What for?!” he snaps, the fury radiating off of him as you can feel how his whole body is flexed and rigid.

A slow and deep exhale emanates from you as you intensely hold his gaze. “Would you rather go for a walk with me..alone…by the river where it’s peaceful and quiet? Or sit here and argue with Micah Bell?” 

You can see Arthur’s mind trying to process your words, his anger and frustration wrestling with your simple logic.

 “Fine,” he barks, not really directing his venom at you.

Arthur reluctantly lets you snake your arm around his and turn him away from Micah. It’s like trying to pull a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. But Micah will not be dismissed so easily. His eyes narrow as he stares you down, just as you begin to maneuver Arthur away. 

“Oh sure, run and hide behind a skirt!" Micah teases. “Pretty damn sad, Morgan!”

“Shut your damn mouth, Micah, or I will shut it for you. Permanently!” Arthur’s voice booms through the camp as his finger points in Micah’s direction to accent his point. Arthur’s eyes lock coldly with Micah’s as he cranes his neck to shoot Micah one last heated glare before he continues to walk away with you.

“Come on, you,” you delicately chide Arthur, your arm and hands tightening around his bicep just a bit more, eager to get the two of them separated as fast as you can. 

Behind you, Micah stands pouting as the two of you walk away. A pain clicks in his chest as he watches how you handle Arthur. He sucks his lip between his jagged teeth, jaw clamping down on the tender skin. He’s irritated to no end with Arthur, but even more so, with your infatuation with the man. A pang of jealousy cuts deep into Micah as his fists clench open and closed as they still hover over his holster at his side.

“Micah’s got a point. Looks like Arthur’s gone soft on us,” Bill snarks as he stands with his thumbs hanging on his gunbelt.

“I’d like to see you tell him that to his face, Bill,” John quips. 

“Mock all you want, gentlemen,” adds Javier, waving his hand towards Micah and Bill. “But the fact of the matter is, that man is taking that woman to bed tonight.” And he points in your direction. “You two have fun all by yourselves in your tents later.”

“Shut up, Javier,” mumbles Bill. But Micah only stands in angry silence before spinning on his heels and heading off in a huff to get a whiskey bottle from one of the supply wagons to sulk.

The wind kicks up a bit, biting at your cheeks as you walk down the path out of the camp. Arthur is heatedly silent as you walk. It is little wonder to you why so many find him so intimidating and fearsome. 

Passing by the hitching posts, your gray Gypsy gets antsy, whinnying and stomping the ground in a tantrum at the possibility of being left behind. “Ugh, are you acting ornery today, too?” you huff as if scolding a child. “Alright, come on. You can come along, too.” You quickly grab Blue to follow, as he’s been pent up quite a bit lately and is itching to move about. 

You lead Arthur, with your horse in tow, as the path takes you down to the river’s edge. The soft lapping of the water against the sandy edge of the bank offers a calm and welcomed change of scenery. And it is here that you turn Arthur loose, letting him vent loudly, while you simply agree with everything he says, replying occasionally with “I know” and “I get it”. 

“Goddamn fool! Don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground!” shouts Arthur, waving his arms around.

“I know,” you reply calmly as you rub your hand along Blue’s nose and face. The horse nickers softly and nudges into you, like a cat purring in your hands as you watch Arthur pace back and forth in frustration like a wild animal in a cage. 

“And Dutch is gonna go along with it?! Just like that?” He flashes his intense blue eyes at you. 

“I know, it’s crazy,” you shake your head at him.

“Are they even thinkin’ ‘bout the rest o’ us?”

You just shrug. “I don’t get it, either,” you say calmly.

Arthur momentarily stops in his ranting and looks at you, finally taking a moment to breathe. Why you are not as heated as he is is beyond him. “Is that all you’re gonna say?” 

“Well, I figured I’d let you carry-on and wear yourself out and when it’s my turn to yell, you just point and then I’ll go.” You cross your arms over your chest and give him a little smirk. 

But Arthur’s face holds anything but amusement, as he firmly plants his hands on his hips in frustration. “I ain't in the mood for jokes, (Y/N),” he grits out slowly. 

A grin creeps its way across your face. “I bet I could get you to laugh.” 

“I doubt it,” he grumbles with a slight eye roll.

Squinting slightly in challenge with a teasing look, you walk over to him, placing your hands on his ribs before letting them slowly drift down to his waist. He raises an eyebrow at you but is quickly disappointed when your hands divert from his waistline to reach into his satchel and dig around until you pull out his leather gloves. Confused, Arthur’s eyes follow you as you saunter over to Blue and step up towards his great head, stopping to place each glove over one of the horse’s ears. As your horse twitches his ears, the gloves appear to be hands waving back and forth at you. 

“Huh…Huh?” You point at Blue, a huge grin erupting over your face, clearly pleased with yourself and your childish little distraction. 

Arthur just stares at you blankly, totally taken aback at your adolescent behavior. “You’re ridiculous,” he snorts with an eye roll to the heavens.

“Oh, come on, that’s funny and you know it!” you snicker, hugging Blue’s neck affectionately. 

Arthur rolls his eyes skyward once more, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head at your nonsense as he finally ambles over to you. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he huffs. 

Knowing he’s been beaten, Arthur sighs with resignation, wrapping you up against his barrel chest and bear-hugging you tightly. Your glittering laugh gets muffled by his chest as your arms hook under his to return his embrace. Arthur pulls back for a moment, collecting your happy little face into his giant hands, and looks down at you. But all he can do is shake his head once more before hugging you again, placing his chin atop of your head. 

Amazingly, you were right: he has forgotten all about Micah Bell. 

Later, after you’ve gotten Arthur to calm down enough to safely be around other people again, the two of you are tucked away in his tent. He sits on the cot, scribbling something in his journal, as you stand in front of his shaving mirror, unpinning your hair and getting ready to retire for the evening. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I found something for you!” Your face lights up with excitement as you spin around back to his table and pick up one of the items sitting there. You eagerly shove a small aluminum tin into his face, hardly able to contain yourself. Arthur peers inside, curious what it is that has you so worked up. 

“Cherries?” he questions, surprised to see the little jeweled fruit inside. 

“Yeah! I found a cherry tree that the birds hadn’t gotten into yet, so I picked some for you. I remember you telling me that your mother used to make cherry cobbler for you as a kid. So I was going to try and make you some.” You look down at the tin of deep red fruit, shaking it a bit and watching them roll about. “I’ll have to mix these with some that we’ve jarred up, so it probably won’t be as good as hers,” you admit, mouth twisting a bit in disappointment, “but we’ll see.” You look back at him with a simple smile and shrug before turning to set the tin back down on the table. 

Arthur stares at you, thinking back to the other night at the fire when you whispered those lovely little words to him. His mind rolls over how you treat him, how you care for him, how you’ve made him your focus like no one ever has before. 

“Hey, you”, he mutters softly. 

You lift your face back to him, eyebrows arched awaiting him to continue. “Hmm?” 

The outlaw reaches out with his calloused hand and gently wraps it around your bicep, pulling you over to him. You stand between Arthur’s knees as he holds your hips and stares up at your angelic face. You lean over and kiss his forehead, his eyes fluttering closed as you run your fingers through his hair. After a moment, his eyes slowly open again, drinking you in. And Arthur realizes as he stares into your beautiful eyes that he has fallen in love with all of the millions of simple little things that you do, things that you do all of the time, and don’t even realize you’re doing them. 

“I love you, (Y/N).” 

You smile brightly down at him as his gravelly voice utters those amazing words so softly from his lips. You observe the seriousness in his face, so earnest in his declaration, as if he is trying to convince you of it. Arthur waits for your reply, hoping he hasn’t taken too long to tell you, fearing you’ve had second thoughts. 

After a brief moment you lean forward and kiss the tip of his nose. “I know,” you whisper, raising an eyebrow with that smart look you get. 

“I mean it”, he insists. “I never wanted more ‘til I had you. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” His hands grasp a bit tighter as if he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him. “I suppose I was just too afraid to let myself go there again.” 

“It’s not love that you’re afraid of, Arthur. It’s that the next person that you love will be like the person who left you broken.” You cup your hands around his face, your thumbs drawing against the weathered skin of his cheeks. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows crease even further, that shadow of worry cascading over his face again. “(Y/N), I can’t give you the life you want, the life that you deserve.” 

“Are we doing this again?” you ask with a tinge of admonishment. “Arthur, I don't want someone who will promise me the world. I want someone who will hold me when I need it; who will bring me coffee in the morning; who will pull the blanket over me on cold nights when I’m sleeping. I want someone who will love me the same as I love them: madly, uncontrollably, inconveniently, and, yeah, maybe even foolishly.” A bright smile illuminates your face. “And I think you’re just the fool I’ve been waiting for.”

This makes a small chuckle break from his stern face as he shakes his head.

You pull his stubbled face in closer to yours. “I don’t care how complicated this gets, Arthur. I still want you.”

He lifts his hands from your hips and wraps them around your wrists as you continue to hold his face. “Maybe I’m afraid because you mean more to me than anyone ever has. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, and you won’t mess it up, Arthur.”

You watch the idea of it settle over Arthur, wrapping him up like a warm blanket and just as comforting as one, too. The tension in his shoulders ebbs away and his eyes soften and twinkle, making them rival the bluest ocean. 

He smiles up at you again. “Say it.” 

“What?”

“Say it again for me, would ya? Say you love me.” Arthur beams up at you as he wraps his arms completely around your hips, pulling you in and holding you tightly.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than you can ever know or even comprehend.” You lean your face in close again, hovering sweetly over his. “We can do this, Arthur. I promise.” 

“Yeah, we can.”

—--------------------

The next day, Arthur, Charles and Javier have gone into town to get more supplies and stop for a round of poker and a quick drink. A quick drink soon turns into many. And many drinks turns into an argument with the locals. One that ends with the boys coming home victorious, but pretty banged up. Even as drunk as they were, the Van Der Linde gang is not a group of men to be messed with. 

Charles and Javier come back with mostly superficial wounds, black eyes and bruised ribs. Arthur, of course, always seems to carry the brunt of the trauma in these situations. If he’s not taking on the largest brawler, he’s dealing with more than one man at a time. Either way, Arthur is always the one to come home more torn up than the others.

But thankfully, you now have Arthur safely in your med tent, stitching up a shallow knife laceration in his side as he sits quiet and guilty. Arthur sheepishly avoids your eyes, as you are unusually silent about the situation, a clear indication that you are not happy about it. You tug on the thread of his stitches a little too aggressively as short huffs emanate from your nose in frustration.

“What if you get tired of this?” Arthur grumbles as he watches how you carefully pull the thread through his red and inflamed skin, wincing slightly as the needle pushes into his flesh over and over again. 

“Of what? Patching holes in you that you get from being reckless and stupid? Or seeing you without your shirt on? Because those are two totally different things,” you quip as your eyes briefly dart up to meet his before going back to your handiwork.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I do hate seeing you all busted up and bleeding,” you frown. Your delicate fingers dance across the damaged skin, deftly folding the thread around your fingertips with expert precision.

“It ain’t so bad. If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy’s knuckles,” Arthur jokes.

“Funny,” you deadpan.

“You ain’t the only one who’s funny, you know.” He pokes his long finger into your ribs in jest, making you squirm as you try to keep your hands steady.

“Point taken.” You continue to fuss, cleaning his wound and scrutinizing the stitchwork. “I will always take care of you, Arthur. I promise.” 

“And I will always be reckless and stupid,” he snickers. 

An exasperated sigh escapes you. “That wasn’t the point.” 

“Nope, can’t go back on your promise now,” he gloats.

—--------------------------------

You wake in the middle of the night in your tent, cold and lonely. Arthur was still out of camp when you went to bed tonight, but you miss him terribly. Sometimes when you are separated, you get this overwhelming feeling of emptiness without him. Maybe it is the ever-impending threat of danger that you live in. Or maybe it is that you just love him so much that it hurts to be apart. 

Still half asleep, you meander out of your tent and quietly pad over to Arthur’s, hoping to find him there. When you get to his tent and pull back the opening, you find him asleep on his cot. He still has his boots on, too, which means he came home and just plopped down and passed out. (Usually he will stop by your tent upon returning to camp, but you figure he was either too tired or didn’t want to disturb you.)

You smile with a great sense of relief and slip inside the tent, affixing the tent door down behind you again in privacy. You tiptoe over to the cot and carefully crawl onto the bedding. You snuggle-up next to Arthur’s side, lifting his arm and wrapping it around yourself as you rest your head on his chest. Once settled, you breathe out a sigh of contentment, nuzzling your face into his chest and eager to feel the warmth that radiates off of him. Within moments, you are back asleep, tucked safely under Arthur’s arm.

But while you fall back to sleep, Arthur is awake for the next hour that follows. He stirs at the feeling of your delicate hand around his wrist when you settle in next to him, but he has a hard time going back to sleep now. As you lay there together, Arthur listens to your peaceful breathing and inhales your flowery scent. He relishes the feeling of your weight on his chest and your feline-like body up against him. As he lays in the soothing darkness, his gaze lands on your gently sleeping form laying upon him. He observes how your chest steadily rises and falls with each delicate breath. He notices how you have carefully entwined your leg around his own, and your fingers gracefully splay across his beating heart. Arthur realizes that he has in his grasp what he’s always wanted:  someone to come home to, someone waiting for just him. And he doesn’t want to miss a single moment that he gets to hold you like this. 

When Arthur eventually shifts his weight, it causes you to stir from your comforted slumber. A large and deep yawn escapes you as you roll your eyes up to meet his blue orbs gazing down at you. A sleepy grin blooms across your face when you see that he is awake. 

Arthur softly runs the back of his dirt-stained knuckles against your cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s alright. I should probably be getting up anyway.” You sigh with a slight pang of disappointment as you roll yourself up and stand off the cot. 

“Aw c’mon, stay with me,” Arthur whines, catching your hand and holding it tightly. 

“All night?”

“Yeah, all night,” he insists. “It ain’t like people don’t know what we’re up to in here. And either way, it’s none of their business anyway.” He rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he continues to hold yours, playing with your fingers and drawing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Do you really want to roll over and wake up with my face smashed into yours?” you tease.

“More than anything.” Arthur tugs you back down to him and kisses the corner of your eye, making you giggle. ”I’ll make it worth your while,” he utters out in a sultry tone, causing your knees to go weak. Your only response is a flutter of your eyelashes and a deep kiss to his pillowy lips as you climb back onto his cot. 

Arthur shifts his body and wraps his muscled arm around you to usher you back down, pinning you under him. A quiet hum escapes into the quiet, still air as he quickly deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing past your sweet lips. You hungrily reciprocate his affection, your hand gliding from his cheek to the back of his head as your fingers card through his hair. The feeling of your fingernails gently scraping along his scalp sends shivers throughout his whole tired body. Slowly, your knee bends, rubbing your leg against his much larger frame, indicating that you want more. 

Arthur’s hand roams freely and greedily over your sumptuous body as his palm firmly clamps over your breast, massaging the tender flesh before his mouth encompasses it over the thin cotton of your nightgown. Your chin floats back at the feeling of him touching you, your mind already lost in an incoherent fog. He works his way from your breast to your sternum, and proceeds to leave a trail of kisses and caresses down your figure. And as things go, your heat begins to tingle and ache with dire need. The anticipation is wreaking havoc with you, drawing soft whines and moans from your throat. 

The delicious sounds emanating from you set Arthur ablaze inside. He quickly sits up onto his knees as he begins to impatiently pull at your nightgown. But instead of just pushing it up, he yanks the obstructing article up and over your head. With the top half of your body exposed, Arthur makes quick work of your bloomers, folding your legs up in front of him so he can work the fabric down your lovely calves and over your feet. 

You are now completely bare to him, your large, shining eyes staring up at him as he looms over you like a predator. Arthur’s own eyes are filled with a divine mixture of love and lust, just for you. Your arms stretch out to him as a silent plea for him to continue. With a smirk, Arthur is quick to pull his shirt over his head and undo the buttons of his trousers and union suit underneath. You reach up and clumsily tug at the sleeves of his undergarment, exposing his chest to the cold night air. He has no time to strip himself down completely, as once his hard cock springs free from its confines, it is very clear he is ready to get things moving along. 

Arthur covers your body with his own once more, slowly rocking back and forth with a hypnotic motion. Your leg snakes around his backside in response, your heel digging into his thigh. Hot, steamy breaths cover each other’s faces from the barrage of wet heated kisses as the intimacy quickly escalates. Arthur’s hand drifts down between your two bodies to seek out your tender folds. A sharp moan jumps from your lips as the pads of his fingers sublimely rake across the delicate skin between your legs and your pelvis jerks up to grind against his palm. 

“Christ Almighty,” Arthur pants with his lips crushed against your temple.

“I know”, you sigh in agreement. 

A deep and guttural groan erupts from his chest, filled with want and desire for you. Feeling how your slick coats his fingers already, Arthur reluctantly withdraws his fingers to give himself a few quick pumps of his cock, using your wetness to lubricate himself. He rolls his hips to align his large body at your entrance, looking down at where your hips conjoin. Your hands find their way under his arms and grasp tightly to the flesh of his back, urging him to move forward and to do it quickly. Arthur’s chin lifts to meet your gaze, finding your mouth gaped and eyes heavy-lidded with wondrous longing as his name falls as a whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

He hastily pushes himself into you, his usual slow and careful pace forgotten about. The feeling of his thick cock being roughly shoved into you makes you cry out, but you are quickly muffled with his scorching mouth over top of yours. Arthur is quick to start a fast pace, as his hips snap sharply into yours, rutting deeply into your core. The velvety walls of your cunt flutter tightly around him when you feel his length twitching inside you. The grinding is euphoric, sending waves of pleasure shooting throughout your bodies. The way the two of you sync up in the throws of passion is glorious, transcending any pleasure either of you have ever known. 

Arthur proceeds to sit back up onto his knees so he can fully take in the vision of you, your body shuddering beneath him from his force. The cot creaks beneath you as the very strength of its joints is being tested. He wraps his hands around your soft thighs for leverage as he observes how his cock glides in and out of you. Your back lifts off of the cot, arching to angle your pelvis towards him, eager for him to fill you even more, if that is even possible. Your hands seek out his thick wrists, slightly pulling yourself towards him to match his motion. When your head drops back against the canvas of the cot again, Arthur immediately falls forward to suck on your exposed jugular, leaving slight bite marks that pinch your overly sensitive skin. 

“You are so fucking amazing,” he garbles into your skin. “I don’t ever want to leave this tent.”

His burly body covers yours once again, encasing you under his muscled limbs as his arm snakes around your head, his face tucked tightly into your neck. 

“Then we won’t,” you whisper. You turn your face towards his, your bottom teeth dragging across the plump skin of his earlobe, your panting hissing in his ear as he continues to rock into you. You can taste the saltiness of his skin and the faint notes of earthy musk from being out all day in the elements as your tongue flicks at the bare skin of his shoulder as you attempt to muffle your moans into the muscle there. Your whole naked body feels as if it’s on fire with every inch of it touching him right now. The sound of your beloved outlaw grunting lustfully into your ear erases any and all other outside distractions or thoughts. And as his torso lurches back and forth over you, you feel that oh-so lovely lightning barrling its way towards your climax. 

“Whatever you do, don’t stop now,” you whine. Your arms encircle Arthur even tighter as you await that rapturous feeling that you know is coming. 

As usual, your whole body clamps down around him when your climax hits. Your wanton squeaks and moans are a bewitching melody in Arthur’s mind. The already-tight walls of your cunt restrict around his hefty cock, drawing out a brief whimper from him, pushing him to his own orgasm as he pulls himself out of you and rubs himself against your stomach in search of that friction needed to finish. 

Arthur instinctively clutches you to himself when he climaxes with an almost bone-crushing pressure. You tremble slightly, more from the overstimulation than from the damp night air encompassing you. You curl up into him, clinging desperately to his frame. Your fingertips dig into the valley of his spine, the soft chestnut colored hair that decorates his back sticking to his skin with a thin layer of sweat. The two of you have been together quite a few times by now, but every damn time it is exquisite, just as if it was the first time all over again.

The feeling of Arthur’s chest rapidly rising and falling beneath your arms mesmerizes you as you feel the very life of him coursing through your hands while you lay there wrapped up in each other. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek as you nestle your face into that coveted space where his massive shoulder and neck meet. The weight of Arthur on top of you is so comforting. Where some may consider Arthur’s sheer bulk smothering, you find it calming. You wonder how he could ever think you are not safe when you’re with him, as that is always where you feel the most secure.

Your hips are always a bit sore after making love to Arthur, not used to opening up so wide to accommodate such a large man, but you snicker as you tell yourself that you’ll just have to do it more often to get used to it. The more you are together, the more comfortable and relaxed you become, giving in to the sweet intoxicating feeling of the other. The societal shame and guilt that often gets attributed to the act of sex have long been discarded. You two are no longer self conscious about being too loud, and are no longer hiding your bodies from each other in fear of rejection. Playful giggles of excitement, needy and eager hands, and exploratory kisses are the norm for you two now. 

Both fully expended and exhausted, Arthur hands you one of his towels to clean your stomach of his pearly spend that scatters across your skin. Once you toss the soiled linen to the side, Arthur shifts his body lower so he can lay his head onto your chest and pulls his blanket up and over the two of you. Your lips lay against the crown of his head as you play with the thick waves of hair while your fingertips drag along his forearm that tightly holds you to him. And within moments, you are both fast asleep again. 

—---------------------------------------------

After breakfast, you finish washing up the last of the dirty dishes, drying your hands on your short apron as you head over to the horses to give them the vegetable scraps. Arthur is already over there, throwing down some grain and fresh water for the lot. He catches your eye as you approach, giving you a smile and nod as you return his gaze with a blushing grin, the memory of last night still fresh in your mind as well as between your thighs. 

Arthur watches you as you toss the greens into the horses’ buckets, laughing lightly as they push each other to get to you. “Alright, piglets, hold on. There’s enough to go around.” You lovingly pat Taimia on the neck, as she is the best behaved out of all of these “spoiled children”. Arthur draws on the cigarette that hangs from his mouth, his eyes hovering over you. He squints slightly as he fidgets with the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, his thoughts kicking around in his head since last night.

“Hey, so I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’...” he starts nervously, his voice hesitant as he tosses the butt into the grass. 

You look over your shoulder back to Arthur as you try to keep Blue from nipping at your pockets, looking for treats. “Yeah?”

 “When we setup the new camp in a few days, what if you put your things in my tent?” He averts his gaze from yours for a second, unsure of how you will react to his suggestion.

But you simply give him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Arthur takes a tentative breath before he elaborates. “You know, move your things over and, um…stay there.”

It takes a moment to register, but the idea of it causes a huge smile to slowly spread across your face from ear to ear. “Arthur Morgan, are you asking me to share your tent with you?” Your cheeks flush like a brilliant rose and you nibble your bottom lip with excitement.

Arthur reciprocates with a big grin of his own. “I kinda like the idea of waking up next to you every mornin’.” He swaggers over closer to you. “Although you do snore, though.”

“I do not!” you exclaim in playful offense, your hands planting onto your hips.

“Yeah, you do. It’s cute, though,” he snickers. “Like a cat meowing.” He proceeds to imitate a snore/meow sound as he pulls you to him by your waist. 

You slap his arm as you playfully scowl at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Arthur arches an eyebrow at you as he ducks his head to kiss under your jawline. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” smirking as you roll your eyes. “I'm kind of already invested in you and all.”

“It kinda works out nice that way. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Your effervescent giggle makes Arthur’s heart melt. “I’ll take that deal.”

Arthur cups his hand around your cheek, his thumb pushing your chin up so he can look into your glittering eyes. “I’ll ride with you through all the bullshit, Y/N, just as long as you don’t bullshit me. Fair?”

Your delicate hands run up his chest and push over his strong shoulders where your fingers lace together behind his neck. “I can only make you two promises, Arthur:  That I will never hurt you in the way that I, myself, have been hurt, and that I will love you in the ways that you, yourself, have never been loved.” 

You stare into those sapphire eyes of his, trying not to get distracted by the full-range of emotions he has dammed up behind them, emotions that you have only just begun to unleash. “I don't want to just be with you, Arthur. I want to live and love with you. I want to experience every single thing, stupid or great, that our time on this Earth is willing to give us together.” 

A deep and relaxing breath is pulled into Arthur’s lungs and released, taking with it any of the anxiety and doubt that he’s been fostering over this new thing, this new beginning that you have gifted him and that he cannot wait to start.

“Just be with me now and we’ll figure out the details later, I suppose,” he hums. He leans down to catch the rose petals of your lips into a delicate kiss. Your eyes float close and you smile into his mouth. The kiss is not too short, nor too long, but just perfect, as it carries all of the affection you both hold within it.

Arthur pulls back from you, and cradles your face in both of his large hands, staring down at your happy, sparkling expression. 

“In my life full of wrongs, Y/N,  you’re the thing that’s right in it. And I don’t want to miss a minute of it.”