#tb safe and all that

[unfried-mouth-wheat]

What if Cain is the one who betrays Belos and Hunter remains loyal?

Belos would have never accounted for this. But he's quick, and can twist near any situation to his benefit. Deprive Cain of his means to control his curse then lock him up. Bring Hunter to the cell, show him what happens when you give into wild magic. See how your brother cries, Hunter? See how his own body has turned against him? His curse is eating him from the inside out. This, this is what wild magic does. You're all I have left, Hunter. My only family. Help me. Stay with me, and help me find a cure for your brother.

Let me save him.

[allylikethecat]

what does pop look like? can we see a picture? or is that too personal?? you can describe her or him please it’s been on my mind since you first mentioned you had a horse

OK SO I would totally post a picture of Pop, the love of my life, the most important thing in my world. However, he has some pretty distinct markings and is easily identifiable, and therefore I would prefer to keep his picture off of Tumblr! I'm sorry!!

Just know that he is the most ADORABLE chonky lil quarter horse gelding (castrated male horse to non horse people followers lol) he's a little peanut. He was not bred to be a jumper, and is actually a finished rope horse who kind of stumbled into jumping and ended up being pretty damn good at it. He's a palomino and he is my entire world. Like if you imagine the Barbie horse, that's him. He LOVES treats and does a little happy dance whenever I ask him if he wants a cookie. His ground manners are near perfect and if I go into his stall while he's laying down, he'll either put his head in my lap or let me sit and lean on him. He's also in desperate need of a bath with soap 😂 he has not seen soap since winter started and he really needs his tail scrubbed with purple shampoo, it's currently yellow and not white like it's supposed to be 😬

Thank you so much for this ask and I hope that answered your question! I'm sorry for not being able to share a picture of him, maybe one day! I hope you had a fantastic Friday and that you have the best weekend!

❤️Ally

[hihomeghere]

Salt and Pepper | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 1.4k Summary : Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray. I saw a post on here about Arthur with salt and pepper hair and I couldn’t stop myself hehe. Warnings/Tags : talk about death, getting old, Arthur loves his wife, no tb, Arthur and reader own a house, mention of past gang members, cursing, lots of fluff, self deprecation on Arthur’s side, bullets, mention of weight gain (in a positive way)

“Godamn ugly bastard.” Arthur huffed, his gaze piercing as he looked into the mirror. He hadn’t meant to have himself a pity party this morning. In fact he was feeling quite fine this morning before looking in the small bathroom mirror. Waking up next to you always puts a spring in his step. Especially when he’s waking up in a real bed, underneath a soft quilt that you happened to sew in some free time. Mismatched patches and all, it was his favorite thing in the small home you two shared. Hell, you were becoming quite domestic ever since the house was completed.

But he wasn’t exactly expecting to find gray hair sprouting from his hairline. He wasn’t that old, was he?

“Jesus.” He sighed, inspecting further he realized it wasn’t one or two gray hairs, it was almost twenty. Hidden under his longer than normal locks after forgoing a haircut for the last couple weeks. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed them, especially with how much you loved to run your fingers through his hair. Although, he loved it just as much, maybe even more.

God, he needed to get rid of these before you saw them. He was sure you had some tweezers around here somewhere. He opened up your drawer, rifling around for your tweezers. Bingo. His hands gripped the small piece of metal, a triumphant smile on his face.

It was only once he looked back up into the mirror, determined to fix this issue before you woke up, that he noticed you padding into the bathroom. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Mornin’.” You hummed, laying your cheek against his bicep, smiling sweetly at him through the mirror.

“Mornin’.” He said, clearing his throat.

“What do you need those for?” You asked, eyeing the tweezers in his hand. Caught red handed, he tried coming up with some excuse.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He said, giving you his signature smile, kissing your forehead. He slipped the tweezers into his pocket for safe keeping, at least until he had a free moment without you around. After all those years on the run and he could come up with nothing, Hosea would have been so disappointed in his lack of an answer. He swore he could hear the old man chastising him now.

“For a former outlaw you sure are an awful liar.” You tutted, shaking your head, slipping your fingers into his pocket and pulling out the tweezers.

“Well it ain’t my fault,” He huffed playfully, “Could never get nothin’ past you anyway.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You removed your hands from around his waist, leaning back on the sink as you looked up at him.

“Spill.” You said raising an eyebrow, your arms crossed over your chest.

Knowing he’d been caught, Arthur hung his head, a low sigh leaving his lips.

“It’s just-“ He cursed, turning to look away from you, “Well I’m goin’ gray.” He admitted, not meeting your eyes.

“And?” You asked in such a nonchalant manner.

“And?” He asked looking up at you, his brows furrowed.

“So you have some gray hairs.” You said with a shrug, “You’re acting like the damn world is ending.” You chuckled softly, a smile tugging on your lips.

“Well-“ Arthur sighed, pursing his lips, he didn’t want to be vain but damn it, it did feel like the world was ending.

“Honey.” You said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Ain’t nothing wrong with some gray hairs.” You said, shaking your head, looking so goddamn patient as always. What he did in a past life to deserve you he would never know, he definitely didn’t deserve you in this one. You smiled, running your thumb over his couple day old stubble. He couldn’t help but sigh softly, leaning into your touch.

“Just makes me feel old ‘s all.” He shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Arthur.” You said softly, he opened his eyes. His bright azure pools looking into yours. “Getting old means we’re still alive.” You said pointedly, not missing the way your fingers trailed lightly down his chest.

He sighed softly, anyone who said he was the most like Hosea had obviously never had a one on one conversation with you. You had shared the same dry wit along with being just as wise as the old man. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were more closely related than just being adopted by him as a kid.

As your hand settled over his heart, he couldn’t help but remember a time when you didn’t have this place. When his next breath had been an undeserved blessing. When you and Charles had pulled his broken body off that godforsaken mountain. You were right, he should be grateful for these gray hairs and new lines on his face. Should be grateful that he made it this far out west with you, where the air was dryer and slowly his lungs didn’t hurt as bad with each breath.

If anything he should be grateful that you’re here, here in this house. The house that he built specifically for you. That you’re not buried six feet under like most of the fellow gang members. That you didn’t catch a bullet like Lenny or Sean, how he wished they could have had the chance to grown old. Even as mouthy as Sean was, the poor bastard didn’t deserve that. Lenny was just a boy, foolish enough to be sucked in by Dutch’s silver tongue. He shook his head trying to clear any thoughts of the past.

God, along with the fact that somehow both of you still happen to be standing, the fact that you chose to stand by him after everything you went through makes his head swim. You could have left him at any point, hell he had begged you to leave after his death sentence. And yet, here you were.

“Guess you’re right.” He said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Course I am.” You teased, a smile spreading across your face. You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. He accepted your silent invitation, pressing his lips against yours. So soft and warm and inviting. He could feel you smile against his lips. That small smile warmed him from the inside out, nearly making his toes curl.

Jesus, he was lucky. More than lucky, he still couldn’t figure out how he had tricked you into marrying him. He wanted to be the best version of himself for you, he had made a promise to try every day to be a better man for you. You shouldn’t be tied down to a miserable old fool like himself.

As if you could read his mind, which he often suspected you could, your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Besides,” You began as you pulled away, “I like the salt and pepper look.” Arthur scoffed, shaking his head.

“Really?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Really.” You nodded, running your hand through his hair. “Think you get more handsome every day.” If anyone was getting prettier every day it was you. Your hair was longer, cascading down your shoulders in waves. No longer tied up in a tight braid or bun. You looked relaxed, at peace. You became softer once you both settled into your new lifestyle. Not just emotionally, although you still had that fire which had first drawn him towards you, like a moth to a flame. You were physically softer, your harsh edges smoothing out as you started to eat and sleep better. Your curves became more prominent, and he certainly didn’t mind having more to hold onto late at night.

Maybe you truly did feel the same about him. He had never known you to lie. A blush settled on his cheeks at the thought. He shook his head, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“Yeah, alright darlin’.” He says taking your face in his hands, kissing you again before you had the chance to embarrass him further.

Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad if you had someone to grow old with.

[waveridden]

just an update for everyone. i lost my wallet, my car was giving me problems, i got stuck in traffic, showed up crying in front of the grad coordinator...... and after that it was fine lmao. day two tomorrow

tomorrow are my comprehensive exams (i.e. day one of me proving that i have Actually Learned Something during grad school) and it is the most stressed i have been literally since applying for grad schools. so vibes and positive energies would be appreciated.

[embbarnes]

Rinse Cycle.

summary: Bucky pulls his arm from the dishwasher and you love how warm it is.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | TB*!Bucky | Fingering | Dirty talk | Swearing | Groping | Nipple play | Teasing | Orgasm denial (you do finish in the end hehe)

a/n: Thunderbolts* trailer has me feral af. I have so many ideas I want to write, but this is a start. I didn't mean for this to get so long but maybe that's just Bucky pulling more passion out of me. I need him. We don't know how he's going to act in the movie so I just sort of winged it from what the trailer provided. Unedited. ;; wc: 5.8k

It was chore day. You hated chore day.

The monotony of it all felt suffocating, an endless cycle of tedious tasks that seemed to pile up endlessly. Dishes stacked in the sink, laundry overflowing from the hamper, bathroom in dire need of scrubbing, kitchen counters cluttered with remnants of meals past, and trash threatening to spill over - it all felt like an insurmountable mountain of responsibilities.

The weight of these mundane tasks pressed down on you, a constant reminder of the adulting you'd been avoiding. But there was no escaping it any longer; you had procrastinated to the very limit of what was tolerable.

You tried not to be too hard on yourself about the state of things. Both you and Bucky struggled with mental health and that often made seemingly simple tasks, like washing dishes or tidying up, feel overwhelmingly difficult. You both understood this struggle and did your best to help one another out. You developed a system and worked together, splitting household chores as a team when possible. But you both had your days where you couldn’t contribute as much, so it was up to the other to carry it.

With a heavy sigh, you began the dreaded process by gathering the scattered laundry. Your movements were deliberately quiet as you crept into the bedroom where Bucky was currently taking a heavy nap. His face, usually etched with worry lines, appeared peaceful for once. You couldn't help but pause for a moment, taking him in, his features and how beautiful he was to you. It was a stark contrast to the terrorized nights you'd both endured, filled with his restless tossing and turning.

Thankfully, the relentless nightmares he suffered from had become less frequent since you'd started sharing the bed. It had been a slow process, watching him migrate from the cold, hard floor, to the slightly more comfortable couch, and finally to the warmth and safety of your shared bed.

You often slept with him before his migration, napping on the floor during the night or on the couch while he remained on the floor. You both laid together on the couch, but you also slept separately. Now, you were just glad he had finally moved into bed with you.

He was curled up in bed, his form a picture of peaceful slumber. His messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearing, boyish look. His mouth was slightly open, soft breaths escaping in a gentle rhythm, and his metal arm was absent from his body. It wasn't an uncommon thing, as he occasionally removed it when he slept, he said sometimes it feels better without the weight of it straining his back muscles when he laid down. Bucky really only did this when he felt truly safe and secure in his surroundings, aka, only around you and in your shared home. The missing prosthetic wasn't on the bedside table where he usually placed it, so he must be cleaning it.

You gathered the scattered laundry from around the room so you could leave him to his nap, creating a neat pile in your arms. Making your way to the laundry area, you passed the kitchen and saw the rinse cycle on the dishwasher, figuring his arm was in there. You threw the dirty clothes into the washing machine when you reached it, setting it to run. There was a load of dry clothes waiting to be dealt with, so you folded these items and set them aside for later. Your next task took you to the bathroom, where you began the process of cleaning and tidying. You finished scrubbing just in time to come out and see Bucky standing at the dishwasher.

Bucky looked absolutely precious when he woke up, despite his usual brooding when you fawned over him so sweetly, his tousled hair framing his face in a messy halo, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. His expression was one of endearing drowsiness that only comes from a deep slumber. When his gaze finally focused on you, a flicker of realization crossed his features. In an adorable attempt to appear more presentable, he quickly turned to the sink, fumbling slightly with the faucet before running his hand under the cool stream of water.

"Hey doll..." he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for longer than an hour." His hand continued to run through his disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly strands. The water caused his dark locks to stick up at odd angles, somehow making him look even more endearing. "Guess I needed it more than I thought..." he added sheepishly, a small, apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You've been pushing yourself so hard lately, Bucky. Your body was probably crying out for a break," you replied softly, your voice filled with understanding and affection. You made your way around the sleek granite counter, each step bringing you closer to him. A warm smile spread across your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement at his disheveled state and hurried attempt to tame his hair. He decided to grow it out a while ago, he liked having you play with it, and his shorter hair didn’t feel as satisfying when your fingers carded through it.

"So..." you began, your tone taking on a playful lilt. "I see you put it in the dishwasher again, huh?" A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gestured towards the kitchen appliance, your eyes dancing with mirth. It was a recurring joke between the two of you, one day he forgot to tell you about his arm and you were shocked to find it in there.

He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack, his eyes immediately drawn to the peculiar sight of a metallic arm nestled beside two off-white ceramic plates. The sight of the advanced prosthetic among mundane kitchenware was both amusing and slightly absurd to you. "Do not tell me you ran a whole cycle and there were only two plates in there..." You groaned softly, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief coloring your voice. Your reaction elicited a low, rumbling chuckle from him, the sound warm and slightly mischievous.

"Maybe." Bucky's response was accompanied by a playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached into the dishwasher and carefully retrieved his steaming vibranium arm, the advanced metal still radiating intense heat from the cleaning cycle. The heather black surface of the arm was a striking contrast against his skin, with intricate gold accents peeking through the articulated plates, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow.

As he deftly maneuvered the prosthetic towards his shoulder, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. The arm's sensors flickered to life, bathing the immediate area in a soft, ethereal violet glow. Bucky aligned the arm with his shoulder socket, and in one fluid motion, it locked into place with a satisfying click. The plates of the arm began to shift and recalibrate, the movement reminded you of a living organism adapting to its environment. You remembered once you had made the comparison to a caterpillar squiggling across a leaf.

He threw his arm in a quick, fluid motion, the circular movement causing a sudden surge of heat to radiate through your core. The soft grunt that escaped his lips as his arm swung through the air didn't go unnoticed by you. You found yourself moving closer to him without any sort of cause, your body responding instinctively to the simple action.

The arm still retained the warmth from the cycle it ran through, you could feel the radiating heat even from a short distance away. Vibranium was notorious for holding and distributing kinetic energy, this also applied to heat and cold. Unable to resist, your fingertips delicately grazed over the smooth, metallic surface. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the temperature of the arm in comparison to your cooler skin.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed your every movement, his eyes immediately drawn to the telltale flush that had begun to spread across your cheeks. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he observed your reaction.

"Ah...what's wrong, sweetheart..." he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that unmistakable teasing tone that you had come to recognize all too well. It was a tone that never failed to set your heart racing, a prelude to the passionate encounters that often followed. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, you shuffled in place and felt your legs squeeze together for some kind of friction.

"Nothing..." you huffed out, your voice much quieter than anticipated, barely above a whisper. "Your arm is just... so warm. It feels nice…"

"Does it?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the gentle lilt in his voice made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

Your mind began to wander, racing with vivid thoughts of how his arm would feel against your body. You imagined his strong hand tenderly caressing your back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns as they ran down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The mental image continued, his touch ghosting over the curve of your ass, his hands gently massaging your thighs, kneading away any tension and replacing it with a tingling sensation that spread throughout your body.

Or simply Bucky holding you close, his warmth enveloping you completely when you felt a little chilly, providing not just the physical comfort you craved from him but also a sense of safety and belonging, something you had always struggled with before you met.

He had done all of that countless times before, yet for some reason, with the arm radiating a warmth significantly more intense than its usual room temperature coolness, a deep, tingly sensation began to stir deep within your core. You found yourself swallowing hard, your gaze slowly lifting to meet his.

You guided his hand towards your neck, Bucky's eyebrow raised ever so slightly at your action. But, he wasn’t stupid. He unfurled his palm, allowing his fingertips to caress your skin with a delicate touch. The feather-light contact sent shivers down your spine, once he felt your body give him that little shiver, he encircled your throat with his fingers, maintaining a loose yet unmistakably present grip. His voice was low and husky, leaning down a bit until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. "What do you want, babydoll?"

"I...want...to feel your hand." You rasped in response, your voice thick with desire. A wave of heat coursed through your body, pooling between your legs as his voice sent shivers down your spine. Your body responded to him instantly, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you shuffled closer to him, your hands splaying across his broad chest. The fabric of his shirt did little to mask the warmth radiating from his skin, and you found yourself growing more desperate with each passing second, craving the feeling of him close to you.

Bucky chuckled, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against your palms. His scruff tickled your cheekbone as he leaned in, laying a hasty but tender kiss to your temple. The brief contact left your skin burning, yearning for more, like a drug being given and suddenly taken away. His metal hand moved down your body with agonizing slowness, the fucker did it on purpose to tease you more. He gently teased the sensitive skin just above your shorts, his fingers dancing along the waistband before sliding beneath your top.

While your skin was feverish, the touch of the very hot vibranium felt electrifying against you. Normally, the touches from his hand would tickle, raising goosebumps in their wake from the cold metal. But now it felt incredibly comforting and arousing all at once. The warmth spreading through your body was addictive, a delicious heat that you couldn't get enough of. He continued caressing you with a gentle and possessive touch, you arched into his hand in response, silently begging for more.

You couldn't suppress the soft whimper that escaped your lips as his hand continued its tantalizing journey across your abdomen. His fingers danced along your skin, deliberately brushing against your sensitive sides, making you quiver. His trail was agonizingly slow, but his touch ascended, finally reaching the delicate area just beneath your breasts. Your breath was caught in your throat, and he stopped moving his hand completely, having it instead rest still on your skin and the area turning a bit red from the heat.

"You want more?" His voice, low and husky, cut through the tension-filled air. His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing through to your very core. There was amusement dancing in those glacial depths as he observed your flushed face and quickened breathing. He was clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, reveling in the way your body responded to his touch. Bucky was always super cheeky when it came to making you like this, he took great pride in turning your legs into Jell-O.

You weren’t able to form coherent words, your mind clouded thickly with desire. His mere presence was intoxicating, and the light caresses he had bestowed upon you were enough to reduce you to that quivering mess he was so eager to see. You were putty in his hands, desperate for more of his touch and he had barely begun.

Already, you were teetering on the edge of losing all self-control.

"Bucky, please, I can't handle this teasing anymore," you whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your breath had become increasingly rapid and shallow as waves of adrenaline coursed through your body, setting every nerve ending alight with anticipation. The mere thought of his hand, that powerful, yet gentle hand, exploring your most sensitive and intimate areas made you feel increasingly wet.

Bucky's fingers found the hem of your top and he paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. At your almost imperceptible nod, he began to lift the fabric, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of your skin. The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed flesh, adding to the sensory overload you were already experiencing. He pulled the garment completely over your head and carelessly tossed it aside, where it landed in a forgotten heap on the floor.

Now bare from the waist up, you felt a moment of vulnerability as Bucky's intense gaze roved over your exposed chest. His stormy blue eyes darkened with desire, drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if committing it to memory. The weight of his stare ignited a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you entirely.

Bucky's hands slowly and deliberately roam upwards, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your skin before finally reaching your breasts. He gently cups them in his large hands, beginning to massage and caress them with a tender yet passionate touch. Bucky's ministrations quickly begin to urge you on, your legs flexing together to create some kind of pressure between your legs.

The vibranium hand was still hot, it distributes those waves of heat through your body in a much gentler fashion than how you’ve seen in other circumstances. You’ve seen his arm break through concrete, crush otherwise impossible to damage objects, choke the life out of aliens. And here he was, treating your body like precious, tender treasure with the same limb.

You can feel your skin tingling …the dichotomy between his two hands - one warm flesh, one hot metal - adds an extra layer of sensory stimulation. A feather or an ice cube couldn't compare to how he made you feel.

The pure captivation in Bucky's eyes made the butterflies in your belly swarm even more, how he eyes your breasts makes you want to pull him in and push them against his face. His movements become more focused when he senses your desires, kneading and massaging with a rhythm reminiscent of a contented feline. The gentle yet insistent pressure of his fingers elicits a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

Unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of playful teasing, you murmur breathlessly, "Mmm... you learned from Alpine?" The reference to his beloved white ragdoll brings a flicker of amusement to Bucky's intense gaze. He responds with a dramatic eye roll, clearly torn between exasperation at the interruption and appreciation for your attempt at humor.

"Shut up..." he growls softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. The playful admonishment is accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his hands, your eyes widened as you let out a gentle mewl.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, but he doesn't kiss you fully, no.

Bucky Barnes is the master of teasing.

He maintains his playful demeanor, reveling in the way you squirm and moan for him. That signature cocky smirk of his spreads across his lips as he watches you shuffle and attempt to press closer, seeking more contact. "Ah, ah... patience, doll. Stay still for me," he commands, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Bucky..." You drawl out his name, elongating the syllables into a desperate whine. Your body trembles with need, silently begging for more of his touch. You're acutely aware of his penchant for teasing, knowing all too well that he's unlikely to give in to your pleas so easily.

If anything, your desperation only seems to fuel his determination. Knowing Bucky as you do, he'll draw this out, savoring every moment of your mounting desire until your legs buckle beneath you.

His fingers begin to tease your sensitive buds, eliciting those exquisite sounds he so deeply adores from you. Those needy, desperate noises that eloquently convey how incredibly good he makes you feel, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. His skilled fingers pinch lightly, gently tugging and rolling, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your right breast is noticeably warmer and more flushed from the recent contact with the hot metal, though it didn't cause any discomfort or burning. The sight of your reddened, sensitive skin makes him groan softly under his breath, his desire for you growing rapidly.

"Ugh...look at you. You're drivin’ me crazy," Bucky whispered, his voice husky with desire. He nudged his knee between your legs, effectively pinning you in place. Your back pressed firmly against the cool counter, leaving you delightfully trapped between the unyielding surface and Bucky's warm, solid body.

"Please, don't tease me anymore..." You begged softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and desperation. You didn't truly expect him to relent, but a small part of you hoped that he might show mercy. Your plea, however, only served to amuse him, eliciting a low, throaty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

His thumbs continued their torturous dance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the very peaks of your sensitive buds. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp and squirm. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into his skilled hands, silently begging for more despite your earlier words.

You were already teetering on the edge, your composure crumbling with each passing second. You always liked to think you were more hardy against him but…damnit could he get you to break. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had reduced you to this quivering mess, and he had barely begun. His touch had been confined to your breasts alone, yet you felt as though your entire body was on fire.

"I've got you...m'gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart..." His voice was low with a promise that made your heart race even faster. With a fluid motion, he grasped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back firmly against his broad chest. The heat of his body seeped through you, adding to the inferno building within you. His hands, those wonderful, torturous hands, began a slow, teasing journey down your body, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake.

Slowly, he pushed your underwear down, as the fabric inched its way to your mid-thighs, he paused, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Sticky strands of your excitement formed delicate bridges between your core and the fabric. The underwear continued its descent, finally coming to rest just above your knees, leaving you exposed and trembling.

"God, look at you," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Just from me handlin' you a little, you got this wet for me?" Bucky whispered directly into your ear, his hot breath fanned across your skin, his scruff tickled your sensitive flesh as he spoke. The slight abrasion only served to heighten the ever-growing need you felt in your core.

He tilted his head closer to you, lips barely grazed your temple as he placed teasing kisses there. Suddenly, his knee moved, gently but firmly knocking against your legs. The silent command was clear, and you found yourself widening your stance, your body responding to his unspoken desires.

The tension that had been building within you reached a crescendo. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a whine - a needy, desperate sound. Your voice so thick with desire, managed to break through those desperate noises, "Bucky..." you pleaded, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. "Please," you repeated, your body trembling with the effort of restraining yourself. "I can't take it anymore..."

The scorching metal continued its relentless journey across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Your body quivered involuntarily as it inched closer to your most sensitive area. The heat radiating from your cunt rivaled that of his arm, but nothing could have prepared you for the jolt that surged through you the moment his fingers made contact with your intimate folds. The sensation was so intense that you barely managed to stifle a scream.

"Bucky!" His name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp as his skilled fingers found their target with unerring precision. They danced teasingly over your bundle of nerves, easily locating the center of your pleasure and lavishing it with gentle, circular motions. Each swirl of his fingertips sent waves of loud ecstasy coursing through your body. Your sensitive bud throbbed and pulsed under his expert touch, responding eagerly to every caress. The flood of need that washed over you was so potent that you could feel it trickling down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s fingers ventured lower, drawn to the source of your wetness and he probed your entrance. He held you still as he swiftly slid two fingers deep inside you. The sudden intrusion into your velvety depths caused your eyes to roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the sensation of his still very hot fingers inside you. You let your head fall heavily onto his shoulder, a loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips as his fingers began a gentle yet insistent rhythm, pumping in and out of you with a practiced ease.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Bucky let out a deep, guttural grunt of pleasure as he listened to your soft whimpers and moans. His voice was thick with his own desire as he continued, "How's that feel, hm? My fingers exploring every inch of this needy little hole of yours. You were practically dripping before I even laid a hand on you, weren't you?" His skilled fingers deftly navigated your cunt, searching for that one spot that would drive you wild.

Suddenly, his fingers found that elusive sweet, spongy spot deep inside you and curled up against it. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You couldn't help but let out a desperate, keening mewl as your hips instinctively bucked into his hand, seeking more of that friction. But your eager movements only resulted in Bucky withdrawing his fingers slightly, denying you the intense stimulation you craved.

"No, no, doll... stay still for me," he rasped into your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. "I know you can do that. Be good…" His voice was a horny mix of command and encouragement, leaving no room for argument.

His fingers resumed their steady movements after seconds of stillness, but now they purposefully avoided that sweet spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago. The deliberate teasing had you trembling with need, but you weren’t shocked by it. Bucky loved watching you like this, he wasn’t satisfied unless you were shaking and begging through your pretty tears. He had you caught between the desire to obey and the overwhelming urge to chase your pleasure.

The Wakandan metal radiated an intense, penetrating heat that seemed to seep into your very core, like having smoldering coals nestled within your body. It didn't burn, of course - the sensation was far more nuanced than that. Besides, if his steaming arm burned you, he wouldn’t ever put it on your skin.

It instead felt like an overwhelming surge of warmth, akin to the comforting embrace of a steaming bowl of soup on a cold winter's day. The heat consumed you, leaving you feeling inexplicably full and satiated. You tried, your fervent attempts to remain still were failing, the mounting pleasure proved increasingly difficult to resist. He was acutely aware of your struggle, reveling in the power he held over you.

Your body cruelly betrayed you as your hips instinctively jerked upward, responding to the touch of his fingers as they grazed your most sensitive spot deep inside your cavern. Bucky, surprisingly, permitted this small transgression…but he was far from ready to grant you the release you so desperately craved.

He continued to curl his fingers relentlessly, expertly manipulating your body until he could feel the telltale tightening of your inner walls around him. Your voice, thick with need and barely above a whisper, managed to form the words, "I-I'm close, Bucky I...-"

Just as your body tensed, poised on the very edge of ecstasy, Bucky abruptly withdrew his fingers, denying you the climax you had been building towards. The sudden loss of stimulation made you release a pained, desperate cry from your lips, a sound that reverberated with raw frustration and unfulfilled desire. You attempted to crane your neck, seeking to make eye contact with him, silently pleading for mercy.

He was so unfair.

"Not until I say, baby...you know that," he whispered against your ear, his fingers thoroughly coated in your essence. You caught sight of the glistening strands of your unmistakable arousal dripping from his hand. The sight made you blush deeply, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you as you whined softly, your body instinctively squirming against his other arm that held you firmly in place.

"Please...I need to..." you started, your voice trembling with need, a shiver running through your body as you felt the sudden loss of his warm, skilled fingers against your sensitive flesh. The absence of his touch left you aching, yearning for more, trying to get closer to that hand just inches away from you.

Bucky let his hand return to your folds, deliberately spreading your arousal across the delicate skin. The slow, purposeful movement of his fingers sent more addicting pleasure through your body. He began to tease your precious clit once more, his expert touch reigniting the fire within you.

His fingers warmed the pink flesh to a deep, blushing red, each caress bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy while still keeping you teetering on the brink of release. He did just enough for you to feel those shocks, but not enough to push you over.

You couldn't contain yourself, your passionate cries echoing through the room with such intensity that you were convinced your neighbors would surely lodge a complaint later. You didn’t really care, and neither did he. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding desperately against his hand as he expertly pleasured you.

His organic hand slowly traced its way down to your entrance, teasing and tantalizing with feather-light touches, then plunged deep inside you, curling over and over against your g-spot. His metal fingers continued their relentless assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled between your slick folds, your clit at the mercy of his ministrations.

His voice was so deliciously deep and husky with arousal, it cut through the haze of your pleasure as he spoke to you. "You gonna finish for me, doll?" he growled, his own hips now moving in tandem with yours, the friction adding another layer to your mounting pleasure as you felt his hard cock grinding against your ass. "Hm? You gonna make a mess on my hands?"

The raw need in his tone, combined with the skillful ministrations of his hands, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment.

You felt an overwhelming surge of sensation wash over you, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your mouth fell open, ready to cry out in ecstasy, but at first, only a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips. Every muscle in your body tensed, your inner walls clenching tightly around his skilled fingers.

His hand continued its relentless assault, moving in circles around your sensitive bud, alternating between gentle pinches and teasing tugs. Your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate when he pinched your clit, his gentle tugging made the blood rush straight to it, the sensitivity increasing.

The climax washed over you, your passionate cries for him echoing through the empty kitchen. His name tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, your voice raw with need. Tears of intense pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes and your legs gave way beneath you, unable to support your weight any longer. But he was there, strong and steady, holding you up as you shattered in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he murmured encouragingly, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go for me. Don't hold back. I want to see you make a mess, make a fuckin’ mess for me..." His words were a siren song, coaxing, commanding you deeper into the throes of ecstasy.

Bucky's touches never ceased, fingers working tirelessly to prolong your pleasure, pushing you higher and higher until you thought you might lose your mind. What felt like mere seconds stretched into an eternity of blissful agony, your body alight with sensation, trembling and arching against him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Your vision blurred as tears pricked your eyes, cascading down your cheeks while you completely soaked his fingers. The intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. As waves of pleasure coursed through you, your mind went blank, consumed by the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

As your cries died down, your orgasm began to subside, having run its course through you. Your once rigid body slowly relaxed, muscles unwinding one by one, mirroring the gentling of his touches. He held you securely by your hips, his strong arm providing much-needed support to prevent you from collapsing. Even with the counter in front of you, you weren’t sure if you could even stand right now.

The aftermath left you in a state of blissful delirium. It felt utterly incredible, as if you were floating on cloud nine, your senses still reeling from the intense experience. You remained dazed, barely able to process the lingering sensations coursing through your body. Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers, the movement eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

His touch became so tender and affectionate, traced a path along your skin as he placed gentle, reverent kisses on the back of your shoulder and the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath caused goosebumps to rise all over your body as he murmured words of praise against your skin. "So good for me...so perfect, babydoll. You did so good for me," he whispered, his voice held soft adoration and satisfaction.

"I... I can't... feel my legs," you managed to say, your voice coming out in a raspy whisper as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest heaved with each labored inhale, the exertion of your intense orgasm still evident in your flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips were pressed, sending a shiver down your spine despite your exhaustion. His gentle hands supported your weight, helping you regain your balance until you were able to stand somewhat steadily on your own, though your legs still felt like jelly beneath you.

"My bad, doll," he replied with a cheeky grin, that familiar smug smile spreading across his face as his eyes roamed over your disheveled form. There was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he took in the sight of you, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you. His eyes lingered on the places where his metal hand had touched, tracing the patterns of blotches and handprints that now adorned your skin in various shades of red from the heat of the vibranium.

"S'pretty, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. His eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and cherished. His gaze held vibrant, burning embers of lust that were still very much alive, but also a deep well of affection and love that made your heart skip a beat.

Bucky leaned close to you, his eyes softening as he gazed into yours. He caressed your cheek with his organic hand and gave you a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. Your hands were still slightly trembling from your overwhelming release, but they found their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs traced delicate circles on his cheekbones, savoring the feel of his skin and scruff beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace. The world faded away until there was nothing but the two of you, you cherished the moments like this, when it was just you both enjoying a sweet moment together. No worries, no stress, no fear. When Bucky finally pulled away, that familiar cheeky grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes with mischief and affection.

Your eyes narrowed in response, growing suspicious thinking about the many possibilities he could be up to. "I gotta wash my arm again," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the plates of vibranium still coated thickly with your orgasm.

Your cheeks flushed and you groaned softly, rolling your eyes. "Put the pan on the stove this time," you replied, your voice equally soft but tinged with playful exasperation. "I am not hand washing that thing."

Thanks for reading - em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[nanamissuit]

Daddy Issues - Arthur Morgan

Pairing: Older!Arthur Morgan x Younger!GN Reader

Warnings: None,Legal age gap,Fluff,Angst (if you squint)?

He absolutely adores how smooth and soft your skin is compared to his. He has bruises,cuts,Calluses,etc all over, you on the other hand? Not a single mark on your skin and he made sure of that.

He loves spending money on you, doesn’t matter how much he has, he just loves to see you smile.

Regularly takes you on horse rides and lets you take the reins if you want too.

Tired of the camp? He’ll book you a hotel room for the night no worries.

He’ll secretly help you with your chores around camp so you can spend more time with him.

He does end up combining your tents together and at night when you fall asleep in his arms, he thanks his lucky stars that he gets to have someone like you.

Now at first the age gap threw him off..But then after you reassured him a bunch he was okay. (He never shuts up about you and flaunts you whenever he can.)

Got you a horse he sees fitting for you so you have no excuse to not go anywhere with him.

When Dutch starts trying to get you into some of his plans he tries his best to keep you out of him because he has a gut feeling something will happen to you.

Remembers everything you tell him. Favorite color,Favorite food,Favorite horse breed,Favorite animal,etc.

Does not let Micah get anywhere near you in the fear he’ll manipulate you to hate him just like he did Dutch.

Now let's say hypothetically…He never got TB….He beat Micah…And got away with you…(Longer fic about this soon)

He definitely bought a little land up in the mountains up north after. He made sure you were safe at all times.

He occasionally visits John and Abigail. He also does bounty hunting on the side.

He does most of the animal/herding work while you garden.

Even as you both get older, he loves all your wrinkles and smile lines. And your gray hairs only make you more beautiful.

I think you two either have 1 kid or none…No inbetween.

He definitely has you put up three gravestones somewhere on the land for Hosea,Lenny, and Sean. He doesn’t necessarily believe in god (canon or non-canon idc..) But he likes to believe that they (Hosea especially.) Are watching you guys.

IM SO SORRY. I lost intrest in writing and JUST got it back. More fics soon.

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

OKAY it has been a day of being sad and panicky. Time to move.

Yesterday, I made a post detailing the cdc announcement that there will no longer be an isolation requirement for covid. If you are one of the thousands of people rightfully raging in my notes, here's some steps to focus on.

We're not gonna give up. I've seen quite a few comments with things like 'what's the point', 'why should I even try anymore' etc etc and what we're not gonna do is give them what they want! It helps the eugenics cause to be apathetic and listless. We've made it this far, we will continue to make it. I know it's hard, but I am at least right here with you. Give yourself whatever time you need to grieve, and then I need you to get up.

If you have stopped masking for any reason, or you haven't upgraded to a respirator style mask, now is the time to change or start. From now on, we will be living in a country where you could assume there are multiple covid positive people in the room with you at all times. Surgical masks will not handle that load, and cloth masks will be even less effective at that point. Obviously, this is an unprecedented situation we're putting these masks in, and I'm not gonna sit here and pretend to be an expert that can tell you with certainty that even respirators will hold up with this amount of viral load for a long period of time, but it's the best and strongest tool we have. I'm considering using my p100 more, so that's always something to consider as well (and they make you look like a cool raver when you wear them!!!). You can buy all sorts of masks here, there's more links in the comments of my original post, and most states have their own mask blocs. To find them, go to Instagram and type "[your state] mask bloc". Here is a google doc of verified advocacy groups and mask blocs all across the country here is a diy fit test kit you can buy for $30 (unfortunately they are sold out right now. shocker.) PLEASE remember to take a layered response in these times. Masks are not the only tool in our arsenal. PLEASE for the love of God keep up with your vaccinations. Make a corsi-rosenthal box or buy a high quality air purifier if you can afford it--at the very least our homes can be safe havens (you can even put a hepa filter on your furnace!!!! And in your car too!!!!!). Use CPC Mouthwash, nasal irrigation, and nasal sprays like this one. Make it a routine: you come home, you shower, you brush your teeth, you rinse your nose, you change your clothes. And, like I said in another one of my posts, DO NOT TAKE OFF THE MASK.

3. If you would like an outlet for your rage and you're into calling your reps, feel free to calmly but firmly let the cdc have it at these numbers!!!!!

[alt text: a tweet by user silly_paulie that reads:

"Disdain for the CDC unites us all. Call today and demand isolation policies be returned to 10 days, and reducing it further to 1 day would be criminally dangerous. Call both:

404-639-7000 (press 8)

800-232-4636"

end text.]

4. If you need more outlets for your rage, I STRONGLY encourage you to get involved with your local union. Moreso than calling the CDC, tbh. I've seen multiple comments telling people just to lie about your symptoms to get more sick time off, but since there's no legal precedent to allow employees sick time for covid, all that's gonna do is get people fired. I truly believe in my lefty heart that the ONLY way we're getting anything close to mitigation is through labor rights. Even the standard for the fucking flu is 3 days, and that's nowhere near as contagious or disabling as covid. I say this as a high risk person with a neuromuscular disability: covid is an intersectional issue, but where we have the most leverage to get what we need is through labor rights.

It is NOT safe for workers to be working while ill with a Level 3 Biohazard (same as TB and the FUCKING PLAGUE. Seriously we have more regulations around fucking lice)

It is NOT safe to willfully EXPOSE your employees to a Level 3 Biohazard

It is NECESSARY for all employees to be allowed up to 10 days to recover fully from Covid-19, in order to avoid possible further injury from or hospitalization

You will NOT die or be disabled for the sake of the wealthy!!!!!

(and while you're at it, ask for better air filtration too!!!! At least 5 air changes an hour, MERV-13 air filters!! Then we won't have to constantly worry about virus bs and policy changes in the first place!!!!)

5. Closing statements. Nothing has changed with covid, this is just policy. Covid still isn't magic, she still has to get in you before she can do damage--mask up, arm your home with clean air, and don't let her. It's always worse toward the end. This is not the time to give up, it's time to dig in your heels and get to work. There are so many good things happening with covid. They are finding encouraging treatments for long covid. Finally, after years of nothing, a new prophylactic for the high risk was submitted for emergency use to the FDA, and it looks like this time it's built to last against new mutations. Covid is here to stay for the rest of our lives, but the real science hasn't given up on taking the worst of its teeth out. We WILL get to the point where the extreme fear of catching covid is nothing but a bad memory for EVERYONE. All I need you to do is commit to the belief that you're gonna survive long enough to be in that moment with the rest of us.

Now stay safe, and give em hell!!!!!

[alovethatkilled]

It’s a miracle that man was able to control his feelings for Sister Bernadette without acting out.

for @georgia-hill6

[moopiter]

Rest Easy

It was supposed to be a nice night at home, curled up on the couch with the chilly fall wind blowing just outside the window. But instead of flying to your balcony and diving into your arms, Homelander slumps against your front door, powerless. Homelander X GN Reader 2.8K

Ao3

Little authors note: I'm having so much fun posting all my little snippets! I also finally have a use for the 1.4 TB of Homelander reaction images I have for no reason.

You casually pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket. 9:58pm. No new messages.

The chilly fall air ruffled your hair as you sunk farther into your coat.

He always let you know if he couldn’t make it, or if he’d be late. This... this wasn’t like him at all.

You sat out on the balcony waiting patiently, tapping the metal railing and humming songs to help yourself pass the time.

It’d been a little over six months since your little relationship with the strongest supe started.

Somehow, he’d picked you out of all the other nobodies at Vought. One little conversation between coworkers he’d eavesdropped on had been his own undoing. It was something along the lines of... “If we were together, I’d take care of him and give him forehead kisses" or something of the like.

It was so silly, it made you smile. You’d kept that promise.

But where was he? It was Saturday night, and he was supposed to be cuddled up on the couch with you watching scary movies. Cozy, warm, and safe.

Instead, you were freezing your ass off, worried to death.

Granted, you never really had to worry about him, but you still did.

There was the occasional bad day, when the world was too much for him, but he always came to you like a deranged moth to a flame. Those days when he couldn’t grit and bear it anymore, you’d remind him you were there and that he was never alone. Sometimes you got paranoid he’d have one of those episodes, the bad thoughts would win, and he’d cut you out of his life.

If you weren’t around, who’d take care of him?

From what he’d shared with you, nobody.

*Thump*

The sudden thud against your front door was loud enough for you to hear it from the balcony. Whatever it was made a horrific, slow metallic scarping noise as it slid down your door, and another thump as it hit the ground.

You walked through your apartment hesitantly. It almost sounded like a person.

A really heavy person, with—oh.

Oh no.

Homelander.

You practically ripped the front door open, caution thrown to the wind.

It was Homelander. Slumped over on the ground, barely propped up against the doorframe with his chest absolutely heaving. He looked up at you with uncharacteristic, pleading blue eyes. Thank God no one had been around to see or follow him up here.

Something was terribly wrong.

Once the initial moment of shock subsided, you hurriedly reached down to drag him in, hooking your arms underneath his.

It took a lot to pull him past the doorframe.

He was deadweight.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You practically wheezed, straining to hold him up and shut the door at the same time.

His brows were bunched together, and his face twisted in pain. He was pale, not to mention he felt like he was a thousand degrees. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

You hoisted him up just a little further with what little strength you had compared to him. Supporting him the best you could, he shakily found his footing again. “It’s alright. I’m gonna help you. Come on, you’ve just gotta make it to the couch.”

He whimpered as he stood, bearing almost all of his weight on you.

It was a battle getting him to the couch 10 feet away. You grimaced as you practically dragged him the last few steps. “Did you walk all the way here from the tower?”

He staggered, obviously unable to multitask between speaking and hobbling to the couch.

“I flew, but then I... I fell."

You laid him down on the couch about as gently as you could, finally getting a good first look at him.

His breathing was shallow and labored, his entire body shaking, and he was sweating.

Homelander never broke a sweat. Ever.

There was a helplessness in his eyes you’d never seen before. Dark circles underneath them like a deathly shadow. His entire expression was twisted in pain, as if each subtle movement was almost unbearable.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead gently, your face contorted in worry.

He leaned into your touch like it was a lifeline as your skin graced his brow.

The sun was probably colder.

He laughed between ragged breaths. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”  

But his lies didn’t soothe either of you.

You huffed as you sat down beside him, hands moving to the sides of his neck. “You’re not. We’re past that, okay?”

He closed his weary eyes, too weak to put up much of a fight.

“You’re sick. How did you get sick?” Your heart was pattering now, feeling his swollen lymph nodes under your fingers. You weren’t a supe expert, but supes didn’t get sick.

The couch creaked as he tossed his head back, letting out a pained whimper. “I don’t know... I...”

It hurt just watching him.

Your hands moved to his jaw again, holding his head to keep his eyes on you. “Did you eat something? Did someone-“

He tried to shake his head, gritting his teeth. “N-no. It was just a normal day. I started feeling dizzy a couple hours ago. I took off to fly here, and it hit me like a fucking train.”

“Okay. It’s okay. Shh.” You moved your hand to gently brush his damp hair back to keep him from getting too worked up. “It’s going to be okay. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to take care of you.”

You stood up to grab some supplies.

Homelander suddenly tried to sit up and grab your wrist, his fingers just barely ghosting over your skin. He was too weak to grab you, even if he wanted to.

“D-Don’t go.” He sniffled.

It made your heart throb.

You leaned back down, taking his hand in yours and grasping it gently as you rubbed your thumb across the back. A hand that was once unyielding and powerful was weak and fragile in your grasp. “I’ll be right back, it’s okay. Do you think medicine would help?”

“No medicine. Please.” He whined, laying the back of his hand across his forehead like a Victorian child dying of scarlet fever.

But for all you knew, maybe he was dying.

You gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze before leaving his side.

☆

You rung the washcloth out in the sink, the cold water dripping through your fingers and running down the drain.

Something terribly wrong, but you didn’t want to make him more nervous than he already was. You just couldn't shake the feeling no matter how heard you tried.

Grabbing what you could, you made your way back to the couch

Sitting back down at his side, you gently took his hand that covered his eyes. You eased it back down to his chest, replacing it with the cold washcloth. “Should we call someone back at Vought?”

“I don’t want them finding out about this. Do you have any idea what they’d do to me?” He grit his teeth as he clenched his clammy hands, chest heaving. “That’s why I came here... I just need a minute.”

You gently reach out to grasp his hand again to calm him down, and he whimpers as he presses the washcloth against his forehead with the other. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

The glass of water you’d grabbed sloshes as you grab it from the table with your free hand. “Here. Drink. You need water.”

Gingerly, you hold it up to his lips.

He lets out a pathetic noise of protest, trying to take the glass from you and save what tiny bit of his dignity he has left, but that was gone the second he hit the floor in the hallway. His fingers wrap around yours holding the glass, tipping it ever so slightly as it meets his lips.

It’s like his neck won't even bend.

You look over him while he makes pained noises trying to scarf the stuff down, trying not to notice the glass fogging just from how hot his breath and skin is.

There’s a heat rash creeping up from underneath his collar.

You dip your fingers under the red and gold leather to pull it down and get a better look at the red splotches. They only seem to get worse under his suit. “Does this hurt?”

“Everything hurts… My whole body hurts.” He groaned, the words so unfamiliar.

Your hand gripped around his a little tighter out of instinct.

“I think you should rest; you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

He nodded weakly, pulling the washcloth over his eyes. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course silly.” You answered in a heartbeat, moving to lay your body next to his. “I’m right here.”

Homelander let out a painful noise as he pushed himself onto his side to lay his head against your chest.

Laying your arms across his shoulders, you tangled your hands in his damp hair, pressing your lips to his forehead, trying your best to be reassuring.

“Rest easy, sweetheart.”

He was out almost instantly, his labored breathing the only noise in the room.

You held him tightly with one arm as you grabbed your phone from the side table behind you, never letting him go. Usually, he would’ve put up some fuss, but all he did was make a tiny, painful noise from having to shift the slightest.

Mindlessly scrolling wasn’t helping.

You set your phone down and held onto him tighter, listening to every raggedy breath.

Much to your horror, his body shook as he coughed.

You rubbed his back, unable to hide the concern on your face as you looked down at him hesitantly. “You alright?”

He groaned as he lifted his head, the slightest tinge of red on his lips.

Blood.

You shakily brought your hands to his jaw, scooting yourself backwards to get a better look at him.

His half-lidded eyes followed yours, obviously he was too out of it to taste the metallic tinge.

“I’m fine.” He slurred.

You gently rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs soothingly. “You can stop trying to tell yourself that. I’m here to take care of you, not hurt you. You’re not fine.”

He whimpered and huffed, drawing in a deep breath as he put the words together. “I’m not sure what death feels like, but I bet it feels better than this. My lungs burn.”

He tried to smirk and laugh sarcastically, but it gave way to another coughing fit.

Now it’s your turn to try and lie to yourself.

Your voice dips low, sweet and soothing as you press another kiss to his forehead. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re just sick. It’ll… pass.”

His expression twisted as he swallowed hard, bringing a weak hand to his lips.

He ran his thumb against the corner of his mouth, pulling it back and staring at the diluted red liquid filling the ridges of his fingerprint.

Your hands moved to gently guide his hand back down, his terrified, shaky eyes meeting yours.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call Vought?”

Homelander’s labored breathing picked up, fear gripping his heart. “N-no. They… I want to stay here with you. Please.” He whimpered as he laid back down, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck to try and stop his head from spinning. “I-I’m scared. They'll.... they'll want to do bad things, worse things.”

Painful memories flood your consciousness. He’s obviously not in his usual state of mind.

“It’s gonna be okay. Just rest. I’ll protect you.”

 His overheating body and sweat were anything but comfortable, but you held him tighter against you than you ever had, hoping and praying he wouldn’t die in your arms tonight.

The night passed in bits and pieces.

Every time he stirred, you woke up from your light slumber to hold him closer or rub soothing circles into his back. Hushing his pained whimpers. He’d had a couple fever dreams, mumbling and crying against you, but never opening his eyes.

You kissed the top of his head and held him tighter, wishing you could do more.

It was more and more reassuring every hour that passed, but all you could do was hold on and wait.

☆

His whining was what woke you up first, then the lack of heat and pressure on top of you.

Your eyes fluttered open to Homelander groaning as he tried to prop himself up above your body, his arms framing you. The longer hair on top of his head fell down in front of his face, his brows furrowed in pain as his chest heaved.

You gently moved your hands to his shoulders to support him as you scooted out from underneath him, blinking yourself awake.

“Hey, take it easy.”

You eased him to the side to shift some of his weight off you, and onto the couch instead.

Gently, you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead despite the tiniest bits of protest—warm but not hot. Moving both hands to just under his jaw, you moved his collar to the side; the rash was getting better.

He made little noises of defiance as you felt around his neck. His lymph nodes weren’t as swollen, but still tender. He let you move his neck around just a bit more, almost like a wounded bird.

You breathed a sigh of relief, reaching to brush back the strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Are you feeling better, sweetheart?”

His eyes were still half-lidded and groggy as he looked into yours, but they followed you a lot better as you gently touched him. Less disoriented.

Red eyes flashed momentarily but fizzled out.

He blinked and knitted his brows together, huffing as his head fell forward. “Getting there.”

“Aw. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re doing a lot better.” You smiled sweetly, stroking his cheek. “You had me worried.”

Last night wasn’t worrying, it was absolutely terrifying.

He leaned into your touch and sighed. “I don’t feel as bad. I don’t know what happened.”

“Well, all that matters is you’re not a sickly little potato sack coughing up blood anymore.” You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I thought you were going to die on me.”

“I’m Homelander, I don’t just die- especially not from whatever the fuck that was.” You could feel him scowling against your shoulder, the littlest it of bite back in his voice.

You half pulled away from him, half pushed him back as your hands gripped his shoulders and held him in front of you like a puppy. “Aw! You’re doing so much better!”

Homelander winced from the sudden movement, clenching his jaw and screwing his eyes shut.

Okay, maybe not all the way better.

“I’m gonna get you more water. You stay here.” You gave his shoulders a little reassuring squeeze as you went to stand, but his needy hands followed you as he moved to get up too.

You giggled. “Are you coming with me?”

He mumbled as he put his arms around your shoulders and leaned his weight against you again.

You sighed with a smile, turning to let him lean against your back with his arms over your shoulders as you stood and walked to the kitchen. “Okay, okay.”

He made little needy, grumpy noises as he held on tighter, his feet just barely floating off the ground as you trudged forward. “When I figure out whoever the fuck is responsible for this-“

“Do you need soup too? Are you hungry?” You smiled, cutting him off.

Another thought suddenly dawned in his mind.

He could have even more of your attention if he was sick. Finally experience was it was like to be looked after and taken care of. He was blowing one of the best opportunities he’d ever been handed.

He shut his mouth and nodded fervently against your shoulder, putting more and more of his weight on you before giving in to a fake coughing fit.

"I just… Oh I feel awful again… I’m… oh no..”

You laughed, of course he would do that.

He’d have every bit of your undivided care and attention, at least until you were sure he was 100% better.

You weren’t sure what happened, but you were sure you wouldn’t stop taking care of him until he was content.

A sweet smile spread across your face as you carried him with newfound determination.

“Poor thing. I’ll make you soup.”

☆

Ty for reading! I like to think somewhere in the countryside Butcher is bashing his rotting head against the steering wheel of his Cadillac for the duration of this fic. Imagine going through all the effort to infect Homelander without him noticing and he just coughs up the tiniest bit of blood and basically gets mono.

Homelander was also originally supposed to just straight up die, but I couldn't bear to write it. I'm what they call diabolical (ba dum tss) but i hold back for all the real homie lovers.

[musette22]

I had a conversation with my friend the other day about our mutual hatred for Steve's arc in Endgame and we came up with the idea that if Steve had to go to the past to see someone, he would have gone to see his mother. He wouldn't have been allowed in a TB ward when she was sick so he goes now to see her and to reassure her that somewhere in the future her son is safe, healthy and happy. He's able to properly say goodbye to his mother this time and he comes back to the future to be with Bucky

Oh my god, I legitimately LOVE this. Yes 🥺 This would have been so incredibly beautiful and perfect and satisfying, and such a fantastic way to circle back to Steve's past in his last movie. I can't believe they had Tony go back to visit his folks twice, sort of, and they didn't even bring Sarah into the MCU at all, even though she's the single most important influence in Steve's life and one of the main reasons Captain America even exists in the first place. I will forever be bitter about that, especially now that you've suggested this alternative EG plotline and I have to live with the knowledge of what we could have had 💔 I would have given anything so see Steve and Sarah interact in the MCU 🥺 Ahhh well, good thing I don't accept EG as canon anyway, so I guess this new and improved arc for Steve is basically as real as EG if (if not more, seeing as it makes about a 1000% more sense!)

Thanks for sharing these thoughts with us, lovely ❤️

[very-straight-blog]

You know, a lot of people have come to my blog in recent days, with the holy purpose of reminding me that Aegon is a rapist, so I decided to talk again about our precious screenwriters, who decided to add this to the show and thereby made things much worse. I and other Aegon fans have written many times that they destroyed the character once and for all, because now - Aegon can do anything, even save children and kittens from burning houses - he'll forever remain a rapist, which means that this character doesn't deserve any sympathy. However, Aegon doesn't exist. Do you know who exists? Fans. And when, under my post with the right tags, some pro-TB person advises me to hang myself because "I protect a rapist", this becomes my experience, the experience of a real person. I don't post examples of harassment on my blog because I've always wanted to make it a cozy and safe place, but that doesn't mean there aren't any - I just delete asks, delete comments, block people, but I encounter this almost every day, like many other Aegon fans - because the screenwriters decided to make him a rapist. I don't know why I'm writing this, I just feel a little exhausted. Sorry for the chatter.

[tessarionbestgirl]

I talk about this before, but let's get a bit more in depth because is such a wild contrast, and that show why I am so shocked and I can't understand how TG and TB are written by the same people.

The difference between TG council and TB council. Both have similar purposes, to show us how patriarchy undermine women leadership but the execution is insanely uneven.

With TG you had multiple displays of interests, but to simplify for comparison reasons, there is in one side a experience woman that have been show very capable of leading a council vs a young boy despite not having that much experience showed to be cable of leading a war but not necessary this will be as safe choice as it could be the woman. Whatever because of law and constumes he is chosen despite over a more experience woman. This is how patriarchy works, and the scene works perfectly to show how the majority thinks even though is not even necessary the better choice for them and could bring problems for them without spoon feeding into you the meaning of it and flows very well.

Meanwhile TB council is on your fucking nose and is the dialogue is all over the place. " she is the weaker sex" but at this point after all the decisions that Rhaenyra have made it proves them to be right, and is hilarious bad and contradictory. Because you supposed to be like "No! Women are not the weaker sex! How dare you?!" But lmao can you blame them to believe like that after the display of weakness that Rhaenyra have been show since even before? Literally the story gives him the narrative support for his argument. And double it by Rhaenyra asking them what they want her to do, displaying again weakness and incompetence.

Tell me how is possible the two scenes are written by the same person?

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

hey john, whats your favorite taste? or smell? or activity to do? lot of misinformation on tumblr about this and i want the truth

Hi, pissbong. Thank you for your questions.

My favorite taste is coffee, especially coffee that donates 100% of its profits to battling the global maternal mortality crisis.

My favorite smell is freshly ground coffee beans sourced directly from small farmers' collectives in Colombia.

My favorite activity is reading about the history of human responses to tuberculosis. The ways we symbolize illness have such a profound effect on the ways we understand and treat illness. Can we even REALLY say that the 100 million people who died of TB between 1951 and 2022 died as a result of tuberculosis?

For all that time, TB was usually curable and could also frequently be prevented through safe housing conditions and adequate nutrition. And so is TB *actually* caused by a bacteria, or is it actually caused by the injustice baked in to human-built systems that value some lives over others, and do not accept that universal access to healthcare, housing, and nutrition must be acknowledged as human rights?

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (5/5)

Paring: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: The life at your cabin after the train heist...

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no tb-Arthur, literally love redemption, no smut (probably), "slow burn"

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

reminder that d/n stands for whatever name you chose to give your female dog

6800 words

It took Sadie and Arthur a while to shake the Pinkertons after freeing Abigail in Van Horn. They rode fast and un-coordinated, not paying much attention to the direction they were heading to. As long as there weren’t any gunshots fired from that direction, they urged their horses to go at a decent speed.

A few more minutes after the last shot had been whizzed past Arthur’s ear, they slowed down their horses.

"Ladies! Hold up a moment!", Arthur holstered his gun and jumped off Sadie's horse. In their hurry to flee the Trading Post, Sadie and Abigail had mounted on Arthur’s horse.

"Arthur”, Sadie complained immediately, “There's no time.”

"There's time", Arthur huffed. The man turned towards Abigail, beckoning her to jump down in his arms. Abigial hesitated, feeling the uneasiness of the situation. Her question cut the air sharper than the bullets had done.

"What happened to John? Where's John?", she inquired. Though her voice was strong, there was an underlying quiver that revealed her fearing the answer.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to respond right away, but his eyes prompted Abigail to jump off the horse.

"He-", Arthur mumbled, "I don't- I don't know."

Abigail stuttered a few incoherent words, not sure what to say, ask or think.

"He got shot off the train. I sent y/n after him, but I don't know if...", Arthur swallowed.

He didn't know if either of you had made it. Even if you had taken the fall well, there was no guarantee that the law hadn’t killed you, or Micah. He also wasn’t sure if you had retrieved John and if he had survived in the first place. There were simply too many variables he wasn’t aware of and couldn’t account for.

"No", Abigail wailed. Sadie now jumped off the horse too, gripping its reins with a sad expression.

"I don't know if they made it", Arthur finally admitted aloud, swallowing thickly.

"We can just...", Sadie started but interrupted herself, "It makes no sense to start wondering. Jack and Tilly are safe, and they should be at the cabin by now."

Sadie was way more collected than Arthur and Abigail were. The latter just looked at each other as if already in mourning. Sadie put the reins of Arthur’s horse in his hands, then walked over to hers and mounted it. Abigail climbed on its back a moment later, leaving Arthur standing next to his horse, looking unsure.

"Come on, let's ride", Sadie suggested.  

He hesitated.

He felt the urge to ride back to camp. To confront Dutch with what he had just learned from Milton, that Micah had been the rat all along. It was foolish, but he wanted revenge, wanted to kill Micah. And then there was the wish to just head West and not look back. Abigail and Sadie would reunite with Tilly and Jack.

Part of him didn't want to know if John or you had made it. It would hurt way too much to learn that both or either of you had died.

Arthur watched the setting sun, lazily petting his horse’s neck.

If it wasn't for Sadie, whose voice cut through the silence with: "Arthur. They're waiting" he might have really gone back to camp, or West. However, Sadie looked at him determined, as if she never doubted that you would wait for him at the cabin. Abigail looked queasy and sad, tears running down her cheek. But even for Abigail, Sadie’s calm and certainty was somewhat ensuring.

"Okay", Arthur huffed and mounted his horse.

When you saw Sadie and Abigail ride up the path to your cabin, you pulled yourself up. Your body ached and the more you moved, the more difficult it was to breath. As quickly as your bruised body would allow, you limped towards them. Your heart sank the closer you got, and you still saw only one horse. One damn horse with Sadie and Abigail.

But when there were only a couple of yards left and the clouds dispersed, revealing the moon, the other horse came into view. You recognized the familiar silhouette that only lacked its signature hat.

A wave of relief washed over you and for a second you thought you might faint, wasn’t it the anticipation and fear that had prevented you from falling unconscious – or asleep – earlier. You locked eyes with Arthur and limped faster towards him before Abigail’s voice cut you off.

" Is John-", she almost choked on a sob and her voice sounded meek, as if she had been crying for hours straight.

"Snoring like a pig", you replied quickly, before you collected yourself and halted next to Sadie's horse. Abigail must have been even more worried about her boys that you had been about Arthur, so you forced a smile on your lips and said calmly: "He's fine. He 'n Jack are sharing a bed. They're both okay."

Abigail began to cry again. Happy tears, clearly. Sadie rode up to the fence of your garden and dismounted with Abigail, who couldn’t wait to get into your cabin. Arthur and you remained behind.

He jumped off his horse and for a little while, you starred at each other as if trying to figure out if all of this was a dream. What were the odds of you having fallen asleep after nursing John and now you were dreaming of Arthur’s return. The blood splattered across his jacket looked awfully real though.

He was the first to break the silence and the eye contact.

"Lost my hat, did ya?", Arthur commented dryly, clearing his throat and knowing damn well that those weren't appropriate words for the reunion.

"It's in the hou- damn you, Arthur!", you wailed. You had tried to supress your anger about the fact that the man threw you off a speeding train. Had you remained on the train, crouching behind those wooden crates, your body might resemble more Swiss cheese than then the living and bruised shell you had to put up with at the moment. Still, he could have given a warning. He could have let you jump instead of pushing you.

Would you’ve been brave enough to jump on your own? Probably not, but still. There was a good chance that either of you wouldn’t survive this, so this definitely hadn’t been an appealing good-bye.

Arthur was leading his horse by the reins, his other hand found the small of your back and with this gentle connection, you walked towards the cabin.

"'m sorry, darlin'", the man apologized. He gave you a tried smile and by the way his eyes glistened, you could tell that he probably had been just as worried about you.

Abigail had long gone in, but Sadie was still busy with her horse, unloading weapons and provisions.

You wondered how secretive the relationship the two of you lead was still supposed to be, but you didn’t much care, as you pulled Arthur into a hug. For fearing that you’d never be able to do that, it was quite a relief to bury your fingers in his sweaty and dirty shirt. He reciprocated the hug and pressed you closer, which hurt so badly that you couldn’t breathe for a second. But it felt worth it.

"Didn't hurt ya too much, did I?", Arthur inquired, peeling you off him to have a proper look at you at scan for injuries.

"No", you lied, not feeling like explaining or handling more his guilt. He might have noticed how pressed your "no" sounded, how it was almost like wheezing, but he didn't ask any further.

"What's the plan for tonight?", Sadie's voice interrupted the moment you and Arthur shared. Still, Arthur’s heavy hands remained on your shoulder where he had put them to inspect you.

"I'll hide the horses in the forest. It's safe as long as they stay close to the cabin and if anyone comes by, they won't suspect that the cabin is packed with high bounty degenerates", you explained.

Sadie acknowledged you suggestion with a nod, before it was arranged that you and Arthur would keep watch for the rest of the night. You agreed a little reluctantly to this, because your body screamed for some sleep and recovery, but it would give you moments alone with Arthur, and somehow you needed this even more. Sadie retired into the cabin to put her bedroll wherever she'd find a free spot. It surely was crowded by now, but you didn't want to check. You remained outside with Arthur.

You settled in front of the house on the lawn. The night was warm, probably one of the last summer nights you'd get before fall would make the darkest hours wet and cold. For a while, neither of you said anything.

It was only after a while that you began to fill each other in on what happened.

Finally, you mumbled: "Sorry…for all of it."

Arthur had spent most of his life following a man who had turned into a lunatic, trusting the advice of a madman and betraying the two people he had once called his sons. You had sympathy for how Arthur must feel.

"Ain't yer fault", Arthur replied.

He was slouching, his fingers drawing circles into the dirt.

"Still…", you sighed. Mentally, you had been done with the gang when you left them a year ago. Part of you already knew you wouldn't return on your own accord, but Arthur’s case was different. Hadn't it turned out the way it did…he would have stayed. Even if it meant going down with the gang.

"'s okay, I think, in the end, we did our best", Arthur said.

He looked at you, and his eyes spoke books. Without you, Arthur thought, he might not have helped all those people. If he hadn't admitted returned to you after Guarma, admitting that that he had been thinking of you,…if he hadn't been confronted with the knowledge that he could still love somebody,…this all might not have been worth it for him. You had assured him that he could always return to your place, and he couldn’t decline that offer. You had always made him feel at home, even though he might not have been deserving of your hospitality at first.

"Aw shit, I almost forgot", you pulled out Mary's letter from your pocket, it was all crumpled up, "I saw it on your table today morning and I- I didn't know if you had read it yet….it might be important or something…" you mumbled your last words.

You had been mad at Arthur for throwing you off the train. The hours between nursing John and waiting for Arthur were a rollercoaster of being angry and being worried. You had thought about reading the letter or burning it. But you reflected that if you had as much as a few lines written by Arthur when you had left camp all heartbroken, you would have cherished them like a treasure. So, who were you deny an already betrayed man some words from a former lover. Despite it making your stomach turn a little.

Arthur took the letter with a straight face, but from the little twitch on his cheek you knew that he had felt it as soon as he grabbed it. He turned the letter around and a gold ring fell into his palm.

For a while, Arthur stared at it, a little shocked, only a small "oh" escaping his lips. Then he put it into his pocket and held the letter out to you.

"Wanna read it?", his voice was hoarse and a little weak.

"What?", you ask confusedly, "No? I guess. Why?"

"Jus' askin’…", Arthur shrugged and then he threw it into your small camp fire. It was burning when you asked: "What was it about?" of course, assuming he had read it.

"I don't know", Arthur admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"What?", you stared at him in shock, "You didn't read it?"

"No."

"Why would you then-", you looked at the black, crumbling outlines of the paper. Even if you had risked burning your fingers, there was only a small corner of the paper left where the writing was still readable. After you had finished the thought, even this corner had crumbled to ashes.

 “Oh you bastard!”, you complained, the curiosity now getting the better of you, “Why didn't you say so! I would have read it! I thought you knew what she wanted!!"

Arthur was amused at your hysteria and shook his head, mumbling a " I don't getchu women" but then he gave a proper reply: "Sending me back the ring I gave her, says all I need to know. She never sent it back, even when she got married…'s in the past now. It doesn't matter, y/n."

You nodded, calming yourself a little as you realized Arthur’s sullen mood.

"Will ya give me a minute?", he asked.

He waited patiently for your "'course", before he stood up and walked off.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when Arthur came back, but you had laid down, stretching your tired limbs in an attempt to get more air into your lungs. Your ribcage still hurt from the fall, and you suspected that you might have cracked a rib or two, but there wasn't anything you could do about it. You heard Arthur's steps coming around the house again, you tried to sit up without grunting in pain.

When Arthur appeared, you leaned against your cabin wall as casually as you managed, looking up to the man. He gave you a sad smile. He just stood there awkwardly, looking at you briefly before his eyes went off into the distance, scanning the night for anything unusual. Finally, you asked: "Do you want a smoke?"

Arthur drawled his casual "Sure" and took one cigarette from the package you held out to him. You were still trying to find your matchbox, when you heard the man strike a match on his boot and lighting the stick. He took one big drag and you couldn’t stop thinking about how handsome he looked, the light of the small flames barely reaching his face and making the shadows dance. It was only a brief moment. The intense orange glow of the flame extinguished as Arthur threw the match into the campfire.  

Arthur sat down next to you – right next to you, so your bodies were touching. After another drag, he handed the cigarette to you.

The both of you finished it together in silence. Even though he didn’t say anything, Arthur counted three yawns that you tried to supress as the cigarette wandered between you.

“Get some rest”, he offered in a hushed voice.

“I’m on guard duty with you”, you shook your head. It pained you to refuse the offer, but you didn’t want Arthur to stay awake on his own. Not after the day he has had. “I’m gonna walk around a little”, you added, forcing yourself on your aching feet.

The darkness swallowed you soon enough, but Arthur stayed put by the cabin. You walked around, going to a cliff and kept your eyes open for riders or lights in the distance that would hint at Pinkerton search parties. But everything was quiet and dark.

Quarter of an hour later, you dropped next to Arthur again. The words for today seemed to run dry and you realised your eyelids becoming heavier.

When you slouched and dropped against his shoulder, Arthur glanced at your sleeping body. From this minute forward, he tried to move as little as possible, though an earthquake wouldn’t have woken you.

The first day at the cabin was chaotic. You were the only one who could make a supply run, since your face wasn’t necessarily connected to the gang, so you took your horse and rode off to the nearest farm to get some food and d/n. It was decided that having a dog around would not only cheer the mood a little and distract Jack but was also additional security and a great help for you and Arthur, who agreed to take night watch.

Aside from your trip, the day consisted of hunting, fishing, and cooking. Soon, part of your garden was stacked with hay to feed the five horses that were lazily grazing in the forest behind the cabin. There was no “taking a meal together” or having a group discussion about how plans, as people entered and left the house constantly. Sadie was on patrol; you took Jack to the pond to fish, and when you returned, Arthur had gone off to hunt some rabbits. John alternated between the house and the garden, seeking the quieter spot. For him, the first day was mostly about resting, because he complained about his aching shoulder.

In the afternoon, Arthur fell asleep under a tree and with John seated at the table for a late lunch, you took the opportunity to lie down in bed and catch a few more hours of sleep.

It got quieter after the sun had set. Only you and Arthur were seated outside the cabin, again lighting a small campfire to keep you company through the night.  

“I’ve been looking forward to this”, you sighed and briefly closed your eyes.

“Stayin’ awake all night?”, Arthur huffed jokingly.

You didn’t open your eyes but whispered: “Spending some time with you. Alone.”

You felt Arthur’s gaze drilling holes into you. Still savouring the crackling of the fire with your eyes closed, you were startled by the touch of a larger hand on yours, which had been resting in the cool grass.

“’s that okay?”, Arthur mumbled after taking a few seconds to process his own move.

You nodded while opening your eyes, looking at a rather flustered man.

“More than okay”, you told him. The smile on your lips calmed him down.

…

“So, nothing has changed, huh?”, Tilly grinned at you.

The both of you sat leaned against the fence in the sun. Tilly had been reading, and so were you. But since Arthur had started to chop wood, your brain made the letters in front of you blur. Tilly had picked up on the occasional glance you casted towards Arthur.

“What do you mean?”, you asked curiously.

“You and Arthur. You still like him”, Tilly stated. Tilly had known about your crush ever since you had started to develop feelings for him…and seeing that was years ago, her statement held some truth.

A hint of a smile worked its way onto your lips: “Yeah. But this time I think he just might like me back.”

Tilly nodded, “Mary-Beth and I talked about this. Even before we knew that he found you, we suspected that he might have found someone. And we prayed that it wasn’t this Mary Linton all over again.”

“No, he actually burnt the letter-“, you started but were interrupted by Tilly: “He’s watching us!”

When you looked up, Arthur’s eyes were already on you. He had loaded some of the split logs under his arm, the sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Where do you want the wood, Miss y/n?”, Arthur asked with slightly raised voice, so you’d hear him properly.

“Behind the house is fine. Wait, I’ll help”, you were about to stand up when Arthur made you halt: “You better rest! Ya didn’t sleep well last night.” He chuckled warmly and stalked off to the firewood pile behind the house.

Tilly grinned mischievously: “So that’s what you do on guard duty? Sleeping? And he watched over you, apparently.”

You gulped down your embarrassment. It had been impossible to keep your eyes open last night, though the nightmares were a bit of a downer and had roused you again and again. Arthur had been awake, mumbling some reassuring words and once, you weren’t quite sure if it had been a dream or not, put a strand of hair behind your ear, that had annoyingly tickled your nose.  

…

Around ten that night, you and Arthur settled on your positions outside the house. The rain had been drizzling down for the last two hours, but Sadie had helped you set up a cozy little fort in the garden. A canvas tarp stretched a spot big enough for you and Arthur to lie under comfortably without getting wet and shielding you from the light wind that might have blown the rain into your faces. Instead of a campfire, two lanterns flickered on either side of you, casting everything in a soft glow. And because of the afternoon’s lack of sunshine, the damp and cold soil had prompted you to lay down plenty of straw, creating a dry barrier between you and the wet ground.  

Neither of you spoke until minutes had passed after the last noise had come from inside the cabin. Then you sighed: “Nobody’s going to find us here, right?”

You hadn’t seen any Pinkertons or law ever since arriving at the cabin, not even far in the distance, so you were feeling quite confident that it would stay that way.

“I guess”, Arthur agreed with a chuckle, grabbing a bottle of gin “better that way. Tilly and Sadie will probably be leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’ve heard.”

Because there was no law in sight, everyone had decided it was probably safe for them to leave. Your little cabin was simply too crowded to go on living like this for long. The amount of food needed to feed six adults, a child, five horses and a dog put additional strain on everyone’s nerves. Everybody had agreed that this wouldn’t be sustainable in the long run and that they had to move on before the weather got too cold anyways.

“The Marstons might stay a little longer”, Arthur commented and when you only nodded in reply, he asked carefully if you were okay with that.

“What? Sure, why shouldn’t I?”, you asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Jus’ checking. I don’t take you to…be the kind o’person to kick them out if they got on yer nerves”, he explained, a smile playing on his lips.

You snorted – but he was right. The nightly watches with Arthur together were something you’d come to enjoy. Even if it wasn’t for that, you weren’t sure if you would have kicked them out any time soon. Sure, John was bickering a lot and complaining about his injuries – which were healing perfectly – and sometimes kids can be exhausting, but still.

You thought aloud: “It’s good for Jack to stay a while. He’s been on the run with the gang since he was a baby. He’s safe here and he gets along with d/n.”

Arthur mumbled in agreement and the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence. You briefly looked at each other before you scooted closer and leaned against Arthur. The tickle of his beard against your forehead made you smile, a mix of cheer and calm washing over you.

“It’s time for a trim again”, you remarked with a smile, letting your fingers run through his beard. Arthur tolerated it without protest, well aware that you were officially his barber now and that he shouldn’t be reading too much into you scratching his chin.

“You just cut it barely two weeks ago”, he chuckled, amused by how much you seemed to enjoy yourself.

“Yeah, I just thought…”, you mumbled, “might get in the way while kissin’…”

You smiled innocently while Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes quickly locked onto yours and his gaze spoke volumes. It was easy to get lost in his eyes – you knew their colour perfectly well, though the dim light of the lanterns didn’t do them justice. And yet you saw the longing in his eyes, begging for an explanation. The man was yearning for another hint that it would be okay if he met his lips with yours right now. God, he hadn’t thought about much else the past nights. He kept telling himself that it was too soon and that he should hold back, just like you kept telling yourself to wait until the adrenaline of surviving the train heist had completely left your systems.

The suspense just lasted a moment too long so a “Woman, ya want me t’shave right now or…?” could leave Arthur’s lips before you closed the distance between you.

Your lips didn’t want to part. From the awkward side-leaning pose you shifted and scrambled, never breaking the kiss, until you were in a comfortable position. Arthur’s hands found your hips, and he pulled you onto his lap, eliciting some suggestive noises from you that made him forget there were people sleeping just behind the wall he leaned against.

Your hands were just as restless as his, raking through his hair, kneading his shoulders. When Arthur squeezed your sides and a weird-sounding groan escaped you, he paused for a moment. It pulled him out of the moment slightly, even though you were now rocking against his thighs. Arthur’s hands squeezed again and this time he caught your furrowed eyebrows. He hadn’t held you with a tight grip and he didn’t take you for the type to be overly sensitive, so your reaction threw him off enough that he pulled back, looking at you suspiciously.

It didn’t matter how suggestively his name rolled off your lips and how much you begged, when you tried to pull him closer again, Arthur held you at a distance, eying you.

“What’s wrong?”, Arthur asked with corcern.

“Nothing”, your eyes and senses felt dazed from making out, but since Arthur’s fingers were digging into your bruised rips, it became hard to keep a straight face. When he caught your expression of relief as he let go of your body, something made click for him and though it was unceremonious and blunt, he started to unbutton your blouse.

“A-Arthur, what-“, you stammered, trying to restrain his hands to no avail. He saw the bruises before even having reached the last button.

“Y/n…?”

Despite having all the time in the world, you hadn’t thought about an excuse yet. Trying to retreat from Arthur’s lap was met with his hands being placed on your thighs and holding you firmly in place. Only when you stopped struggling did one hand search for the lantern, lifting it to illuminate your torso.

“Jesus-“, Arthur groaned, his eyes widening at the sight of your bruised skin, “Why didn’t ya tell me?”

You tried to figure out the tone in Arthur’s voice. It must have been somewhere between disappointed and reprimand, but deep down, you knew he was feeling guilty – exactly what you had tried to avoid by not telling him.

“I didn’t want you to worry”, you admitted honestly.

Arthur’s voice dropped to a low murmur, a tone usually reserved for threatening people. Which made it even scarier when he used this ton to mumble to himself. “That was me…”, he grumbled as his fingertips ghosted over your bruises.

Arthur remembered this rush of uncertainty and anxiety after he had pushed you off that train. He should have warned you, should have told you to jump, hell, at least turned you around so you’d know when you’d hit the ground. He had stopped worrying after he saw you alive and fairly well; only to realise now that you’d put on an act for his sake.

“Yes”, you said firmly and gripped Arthur’s face with both of your hands, “You did what you had to do. I wouldn’t have jumped off that train, Arthur. I would have never jumped myself.”

Arthur met your gaze, his eyes now slightly wet and irritated. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as if he couldn’t grasp why you would ever justify him breaking your rips.

“They would have shot me off”, you added with a dead-serious face, “There’s no way I would have left you otherwise.”

“Still, I – I…”, Arthur stuttered, carefully closing the buttons of your blouse with shaky fingers.

“No. Stop it”, you interrupted, “I would have died on that train. You know it.”

Arthur closed your blouse without saying anything, then, when the silence became to deafening, he huffed: “So that’s why you snored like a monster the last couple o’nights. You couldn’t breathe.”

Your cheeks became warm and you crawled off Arthur’s lap as quickly as your tired body managed.

“I hate you, Arthur Morgan”, you mumbled, sitting down on your spot next to him, staring into the light of the lantern.

“I know ya don’t. Yer fool enough to like me…”, Arthur smiled carefully into your direction.

That much was true, you thought. Your heart grew when you remembered how quick he was with opening your blouse, how carefully he had touched your bruises. And then you remembered how you had even got into this situation. You had been in the middle of something!

When you swiftly looked up to Arthur, he read your intentions as if you had said your thoughts out loud.

“I know, darlin’…I want ya just as much”, he said bashfully, you almost saw a light blush on his cheeks, “but I don’t want to hurt yer any more.”

“You’re not going to. We can just-“

“You rest some”, Arthur interrupted in a tone that suggested there was no room for discussion. You sighed and lay down on your bedroll. Your dissatisfaction about how the night ended was clear to Arthur when he looked at you and saw a rather gloomy expression. He reached over to extinguish the lantern next to you.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere”, Arthur said, thinking this would be sufficient to address your worries, “we got plenty of time now.”

“Yeah”, you mumbled, not really believing it. Sadie and Tilly would leave tomorrow. The Marstons would probably leave in a week or two. You wondered if Arthur was going to leave. You heard from Sadie how hesitant he was to ride back to the cabin, and you knew that there was part of him that just wanted to head West, back to the open prairie with no civilization for miles on end. There was a chance he’d pick that life over the one you could offer him right here and thinking about that put an even heavier weight on your chest than you already felt.

You were too scared to admit it openly, so you just wondered in silence until you fell asleep.

The next day was spent with prepping and planning, trying to make out a secure route for the women to leave the area. Arthur, to your great dismay, hadn’t made it a secret that you had a cracked rip or two and Abigail held a lecture on hiding injuries. You were doomed to vegetable cutting and reading to Jack, stuck to the cabin and its garden.

Arthur and Abigail were the only ones who took your injuries dead-serious. When you tried to take a big pot out of a cupboard, Arthur appeared behind you and did the job for you. Tilly and John teased you relentlessly about it. John jokingly said that you shouldn’t move so much when you picked up a piece of carrot that had rolled on the floor.

“Jealous, Marston?”, you shot back, “Wish you’d still be coddled like that, huh?”

With Abigail’s focus on your injury, John had lost his status as person in need for care and he wasn’t exactly happy when he was called outside to feed and brush the horses, since one of his left arm was still pretty much useless.

With Tilly and Sadie gone, your bedroll finally moved inside again, and it was the first night where Arthur shared guard duty with John.

The days continued, a little quieter and not as crammed as those before. After one week, you started to enjoy living with this group of people. Your injuries healed well and at the end of the week, Abigail allowed you to take Jack fishing. Arthur and John, in the meanwhile, had started to work on a bigger bedframe. Your old one was still broken and wobbly and since Abigail and Jack shared the bed every night, a bigger one would come in handy. Nobody mentioned it explicitly – and you feared that you were the only one thinking it – but if Arthur were to stay with you, you were in desperate need for a bigger bed.

Three days later, you dared your first ride to Annesburg. After you had given everyone at the cabin a haircut, you decided it was time to catch up with your regulars in town. You used their gossip as a way of getting information regarding the Pinkertons, and apparently, they had left town. There wasn’t more valuable information than that they had left, and they had gone South, which you knew wasn’t a route that Sadie and Tilly picked.

Another two days passed before John and Abigail decided to pack their bags and move. Fall was in full swing by now and the leaves were dropping off the trees like crazy. They planned to head West and later South. On their last night, John and Arthur got drunk, and you joined in with pleasure.

The night was a blur of singing and yelling mundane stories at each other. After a couple swigs of whiskey, Arthur became more touchy, openly wrapping his arm around your waist. John watched this curiously, as you and Arthur had never been so affectionate in front of others. But you enjoyed the attention. The night was cut short when one of your funny stories about a client had John and Arthur make such a fuss, that Abigail stormed out of the cabin.

“Jack is trying to sleep! Shame on you John, we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow”, she scolded.

Arthur was in a good mood, so he stood up with a certain spring in his step: “Uh-oh, Marston! We’re gonna leave you to it!”

Arthur pulled you up with him and you stumbled out of the garden and into the woods for a nightly “patrol”…which was just a drunk walk on which you could laugh and scream without jeopardizing an innocent boy’s sleep. From telling jokes and drunk flirty banter, you quieted down after a while. Your arm snaked around Arthur’s to keep each other steady – and close.

After what felt like an hour of aimlessly wandering around were walking towards the cabin again, passing your little pond.

“Remember when I caught ya bathin’ in it?”, you recalled smugly.

“Sure”, Arthur grunted, walking up to the edge. You accompanied him, taking in the serene reflection of the moon in the water. The wind rustled the leaves in the woods behind you, sending tiny waves over the undisturbed surface. You knew there were fish sleeping down there. Suddenly, Arthur freed his hand from your grip and instead gripped your arm.

“How ‘bout we make it even?”, he said with a mischievous grin, giving you a gentle push.

You felt like you were about to topple over into the cold water, but Arthur’s grip on your arm was firm and stabilizing. The near fall left you with a wave of nausea and curses flowed from your lips like a waterfall.

“Ya son of a-“, Arthur was quick to interrupt you with a kiss.

You knew that John couldn’t see you from the cabin, even though you could spot the campfire in front of the house with the slim man sitting there. The moonlight wasn’t bright enough, and the distance was too big; he might only see two vague silhouettes, if he was even looking.

The kiss deepened and Arthur steered you away from the water until he met a tree. His hands had already slipped under your shirt as yours fingered his belt buckle, when he stopped and buried his face in your neck.

“No”, he complained, though you felt the grin on your skin, “I don’ wanna be drunk for this…”

“You sure this isn’t just an excuse because you don’t wanna hurt me”, you asked. Your sides were still bruised, though you felt significantly better and the pressure on your lungs had dissipated almost completely.

“That too”, Arthur admitted with a sigh, peppering the crook of your neck with kisses before pulling you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

You were slightly disappointed, but bringing a little common sense into this, you knew that the forest wasn’t specifically the best place for sex. Especially drunk and with cracked bones. The hug lasted so long, you might have dozed off for a few seconds, but it was the rustling in the bushes that let both of your ears perk up. D/n came striding up to you, tail wagging and tongue out.

“Look who found us!”, Arthur exclaimed. He loved the dog. As soon as she appeared up, the hug ended and Arthur squatted down, dangerously swaying, to pet her.

“We should head back”, you suggested, “D/n’s probably alarming us ‘cause John fell asleep.”

And right you were. When you walked through the gate, you found John passed out and snoring.

The entire morning was spent getting a waggon ready for the Marstons, loading it with what supplies and money you still had. By lunchtime, they were all packed. It was a cool fall day. There were maybe three weeks left until you, so close to the mountains, would see the first snow. Everyone took their time saying good-bye. While John and Arthur went over the route one more time, you chatted with Jack. You had decided to gift him one of your favourite books. Though it was still way too difficult for him to read, you told him that eventually, he’d understand everything.

You hugged Abigail who thanked you again and again for going after John that night and for offering your place as hideout. While you were busy with bridling John’s horse in front of the waggon, you listened to Arthur’s and John’s conversation.

“Thank you, brother”, John shook Arthur’s hand affectionately.

“No need to thank me, couldn’t have done it alone”, and Arthur’s glance met yours for a moment.

“What are you gonna do now?”, John asked, climbing up the waggon to take his seat.

“Oh”, Arthur huffed, “Not sure yet. But I’ll see you again. You too, Abigail”, Abigail hugged Arthur who then helped her up on the waggon. You stepped aside, leaning against your fence. Nothing more needed to be said, and with kind nods, John spurred the horse on. Jack was busy waving good-bye to you and Arthur until he was so far in the distance, that you couldn’t properly make him out anymore.

“So…”, you swallowed thickly, knowing there was no way around the question anymore, “how long do you plan on staying?”

You stared in the distance, focusing on the trees, the sky…anything but Arthur who stared holes into you.

“Ya want me gone or something?”, he joked, lighting a cigarette.

“No!”, you looked at him earnestly, “I’ve just been wondering…’cause it should be save to leave…head West and all…”

“I’ll stay here. As long as ya’ll have me”, Arthur said, putting all the meaning behind those words. He could sense your anxiety, and he figured you had been anxious for the last couple of days, which explained all the funny and sad looks you had given him.

“I won’t kick you out”, you reaffirmed, not sure how to feel about Arthur’s statement yet.

“Good”, he chuckled, a puff of smoke escaping his lips, “…was kinda countin’ on that.”

 When he saw your still unsatisfied expression, he gave you a kind smile softly murmured your name. “I think I told ya before, but…I love ya.”

Ever since Arthur had returned with Sadie and Abigail from Van Horn and saw you alive, he had known that he’d stay right here with you. All his thoughts about leaving to go West, avoiding society that would eventually creep up those hills and maybe even reach your secluded cabin – all those thoughts paled in comparison to the feeling of being at home here with you. But Arthur realized that he might not have expressed that well enough for you to understand.

“’ve been a fool before, y/n. And I’m sorry for it”, Arthur sighed, “But if ya don’t mind…I’ll stay here as long as you’ll tolerate an old bastard like me.”

You chuckled at his words and realized that for the first time since falling from the train and crawling to collect John, the pressure on your chest was gone. It made you wonder if most of it had been your injury or your anxiety about the uncertainty of the relationship.

“Mhm”, you hummed, a relieved smile appearing your lips, “it’s gonna be real hard…but I think I can manage a couple of years.”

Arthur chuckled. He put his arm around you and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss onto your temple. You hugged him, inhaling the smoke and sweat off his jacked.

It was Arthur who breathed close to your ear, whispering: “Wanna head inside? There’s somethin’ I’ve been wanting to do for a damn while now…”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Thanks for the wait lmao and sorry for all the suggestive suspense, I can't write smut :)))

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taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon @nervousmumbling @pheesupremacy @destroyer-of-za-warudo @ratbrainbabycowboyprince @stray-npc

[peachysunrize]

It's like the writing team has a kink for humiliating the Greens.

Alicent: Vizzy needed a young wife and a male heir, so Otto gave him Alicent. She gave him three sons and a daughter and Vizzy didn't give a shit about any of them. She never had a positive sexual interaction in her entire life, until Vizzy died. But her affair with Cole was only meant to guilt her and now Rhaenyra of all people slur shames her for taking a lover.

Aegon: They made him a rapist in season one so the audience would hate him. Now they want you to know that his dick exploded and he pisses on his leg. Aegon the realm’s delight.

Cole: There’s not much to say, basically the entire audience hates him since Rhae Rhae chose him as a sex toy.

Aemond. We were shown not one, but two scenes of him completely naked in the brothel as he confides in his abuser. He gets humiliated by his brother, his mother wonders why he's so angry (I don't know, maybe because everyone treats the fact that he lost a damn eye like it's a childish prank), and the one time he asks for help he gets rejected. Heleana prefers to help the person who ordered the assassins who beheaded her son rather than him and we're supposed to cheer the script.

Heleana: They made her forget that her son ever existed, and they took away every characteristic from her except that of being a dreamer. And she uses her dreams to help the person who killed her son. We don't know anything about her marriage to Aegon, in season 1 she said it was bearable as long as Aegon wasn't drunk and remembered her. Now she's upset because Aegon is injured, but she never went to visit him at his bedside... who knows? The writers probably don't care about her and that’s it.

Most Greens have either never had a positive sexual interaction in their entire lives or have been shamed for it. Which speaks volumes about the writers' biases.

Only Gwayne is safe, for now, and Daeron, but only because we haven't seen him yet.

You put it perfectly!! I have nothing to add!! TG is like a punching bag for the writers! They don’t wanna give flaws to TB so they make Greens worse lol😭 Daeron & Gwayne get behind me WE NEED TO KEEP YOU SAFE BABIES

[paincallingback]

Dumbass

(Felix crying in the secret tunnels over his stupid mistakes.)

Peeps: @star-tb @myluckymoon @city-of-c0rpses @deeply-moonstruck @w3apon0fchoice @kimisbunny

He hates me.

There's no doubt in it now. He's tolerated my annoying ass for so long, probably lying that I'm not annoying at all. He doesn't have to spare me with the white lies in order to avoid hurting my feelings. It's okay to admit it, X. I am just some annoying dumbass who doesn't use half of his brain majority of the time.

Such a foolish idiot I am.

He was right there. I could have given him the right answer. The correct answer. Yet I chose wrong, leaving him with a look of disappointment that I can not even describe with words.

I'm so stupid.

I could have said everything right then and there, but I'm such a idiot all because I was a little too afraid of change. I don't want things to change. I want to keep everything the same.

I'm supposed to hate the bastard. Kill him while he's unguarded. Insult him till he breaks. Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate. That's my job. To be his rival and beat him at something!

So why does my heart start to pound more when I'm near him. Why do I actually like his company? Why do I hesitate to kill him?

I'm such a idiot.

That was my only friend. Throughout most of my life ever since I was in high school, no matter the amount of times I would hate and annoy him, he was still my friend. He hung out with me for no reason, even though I was lame. He stood up for me when I couldn't defend myself.

I don't blame him at this point. Everyone eventually gets tired of me at some point. Even if I tried hard enough to be better, it's all fatal in the end. That's how it's always been.

That was my friend and now he probably hates me. My only friend slipped through my fingers. I lost him. I let him get away. Now he's gone because I'm such a fucken idiot.

I'm such a loser. A damn try hard who makes an embarrassment out of myself when I have no one to prove to. It's all just some game to me I guess.

After all. What is life without a rival? If that's what I can even call him anymore. I'm not sure if he has anything to do with me at all anymore or not.

I guess I'm such a idiot after all.

Things could have ended differently for us. Multiple endings in reality. Though I guess I chose the bad end. Laying here on the floor of the secret tunnels. Safe and alone, so no one can he my tears. I wish this was all just some bad dream.

Perhaps in the future, I will stop being such a idiot.