#which is echo getting the blanket he deserved

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part four)

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Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.

Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.

If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.

Maybe he should just head back to the motel...

...

Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.

Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)

Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.

Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.

Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.

Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.

Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)

He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.

Batman definitely needed therapy.

...

Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.

yay.

He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)

Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.

Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.

shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.

and waited.

and waited.

After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.

Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"

It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."

"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."

The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."

Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.

He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.

He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)

The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.

Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?

Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.

"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."

Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."

Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.

He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.

He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.

He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.

He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.

He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.

"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."

Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.

Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.

"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."

Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."

Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.

"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"

Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.

"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)

Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"

Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"

Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.

Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.

"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.

Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.

Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."

Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"

Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.

"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.

"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."

Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.

"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."

Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.

'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'

and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.

Next

[milkteahood]

together through it all

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: being there for Simon during one of his many night terrors

“No! No! Fuck no! Please… please not her. DON’T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME”

Sweat broke on Simon’s forehead as he jolted awake, gasping for air. Stumbling, almost as if running from something, he made it to the bathroom where he threw himself over the toilet, puking his guts out. His whole body was breaking in cold sweat, shaking, with a blurry vision.

He didn’t hear you come in and almost attacked you when you placed a hand on him. He stopped midway, eyes bloodshot, his body only shaking harder when he realized it was only you.

“Si? Baby, it’s ok” your soft voice echoed in his mind, hand running up and down his back as he started vomiting again.

It wasn’t the first time this happened. Simon had severe ptsd, and this reaction was nothing new. He tried to warn you, saying you wouldn’t be happy with him. To go find someone that can actually love you normally. But he didn’t get to decide for you. And over time you got better and better at helping him when needed.

“You’re ok Si” you spoke gently, using a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

He didn’t respond, but when he finally looked up at you, his face was incredibly pale. His lips were losing color too, and his eyes were a little glossy. This panic attack was one of the worst you’d seen him have.

Your hands cupped his face, and without even realizing it, he leaned into your touch, almost to see if you were actually real.

“You’re ok now” you said. Again, he didn’t respond. His breathing was heavy, and he closed his eyes, leaning more into your touch.

You held him for a while, giving him time to relax. His head almost fell onto your chest and strong arms wrapped themselves around you. There was something different about all of it. The way he held you, as if he was almost afraid you would vanish into thin air.

“Do you feel alright enough to walk?” you asked, arms wrapped around his neck, holding his head close to your chest. He only nodded in response.

As you stood up, you gently helped him up too, using your body to support his.

Once you made it to the bedroom, he collapsed on the bed, but still refused to let go of you.

He didn’t speak, his body still slowly shaking as he buried his face deeper into your chest, taking in your scent, trying to convince himself you’re actually real. He’s not hallucinating. You’re indeed there, trying to wrap a blanket around him as he refuses to let you move.

Once the blanket was over both of you, you resumed your gentle touches, fingers running through his hair as his breathing was slowing. Your fingers worked like magic on him. Your patience, something he never saw himself worthy of. All the times he yelled at you during one of his episodes. And even now, he was about to attack you. He didn't understand why someone like you would put up with someone like him. He didn't deserve you, he was sure of that. But he will be damned before he lets anyone take you away from him.

“You’re ok now” you said again, kissing the top of his head “it’s just us here” you continued, nose nuzzling his hair.

He nodded, closing his eyes.

You only closed yours once you heard the soft snoring coming out of your lover’s mouth.

“I love you, Si” you said, earning yourself a little snore in return, which made you chuckle.

[tteokdoroki]

tw ! slight age gap, reader is older, cheating, fingering, smut.

hello going on a business trip or to a conference, escaping your mundane life and the marriage that brings you nothing.

you’ve really gone on this trip to get away from your dead bedroom and the spouse that treats you like nothing more than a money maker.

which leads you to having a chance encounter with bakugou at the bar of the hotel your conference is at. you remember him from one of the panels — he’s young for this field of work but incredibly handsome, has brilliant red eyes that draw you in like magnetising poles, he makes you laugh and from your belly too. he’s everything your current spouse is not, there’s a spark inside you that you haven’t felt in years and bakugou knows it too. he makes you feel beautiful and seen and all he’s done is buy you a drink with a sour olive in it.

you find yourself stumbling behind him after one too many drinks, katsuki guiding you back to your hotel room — the good man that he is. you’ve both got panels to attend tomorrow morning at 9am sharp. it wouldn’t be wise to spend the rest of the night basking in booze and one another’s company. but when you get the door, failing to slip your key card into the slot — the blonde’s hand touches yours to help you get it in and all sense of logic is lost.

you no longer feel drained by mundane life waiting for you back home, you no longer think of your boring spouse in currently sleeping in your marital bed where they fail to make you feel loved. from the moment katsuki’s hand had touched yours, all you could feel was electricity, the longing and the wanting you’ve been desperately craving.

his lips drag sweep across your skin in heated motions and they find pleasure spots you’re not sure you even knew existed. bakugou’s fingers map out every inch of your body as though he may never touch you again, they dip past the forbidden band of your a-line skirt and write secret promises of pleasure against your clit because you’re married and the both of you know this is wrong.

one touch turns into another, dull and thick fingers stretch you open and graze your g-spot with an ease your spouse could never find. you e never felt this good, your lashes flutter against katsuki’s neck as he holds you to his chest and finger fucks you to the high heavens…because you’re just a hardworking woman who hasn’t had her pussy ruined in a long time, not like you deserve. he grins when you cream on just two of his fingers, such a good girl, so easy to please.

“such a pretty girl… such a hard worker ‘n no one to take care of you,” the blonde purrs into your ear before pushing you into the plush pillows and blankets below. there’s a gravel in his voice that raises at the heartbeat between your legs, not to mention the perfect view of him loosening his shirt and tie above you. “s’that why you’ve fallen into bed with the youngest guy here. ‘cause i got what it takes t’keep up with ya, yeah? make you feel better than that poor excuse of a fuck you got back home?”

bakugou grins slow and sexy when your hips rise from the bed on instinct at his words and he kisses you just to reward you, a poor touch starved little thing. its hungry and sloppy and messy and somewhere in the mix of his tongue wrapped around yours and your hands in his hair — the blonde has ripped through your stockings and slipped his aching, dripping slick cock past your quivering entrance.

he feels like home inside you, feels you up to the brim and sends your eyes rolling back into the depths of your skull. every stroke is calculated, every piston of katsuki’s meaty girth purposive and intentional — crafted to make you see stars with every jolt of your body up the bed. you can’t go back to regular old life after tonight, you won’t be able to go back to the way things were without picturing bakugou’s tie hanging loosely above you and hearing his deep moans echo throughout your mind.

that night you leave marks on one another that you’ll be hiding for weeks, smiling at when no one is looking, reminiscing the sinful experience shared in this very hotel room. there’s too much passion in the room for this to just remain a one time thing, too much emotion behind the act saliva swept lip lock or love bite left below the line of future clothes to be worn.

you know that you won’t give katsuki up especially when he kisses you as you cum together, thick white seeping between your swollen and ravaged folds.

you’ll do anything to be underneath bakugou like this again, even if it means planning fake business trips every other weekend to get away from your spouse and get fucked to the high heavens by your young hot colleague.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[eoieopda]

insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you. 

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him. 

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts. 

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.  

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him. 

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy. 

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?” 

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound. 

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know. 

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there. 

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —” 

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry. 

You don’t, thankfully. 

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling. 

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again. 

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case. 

He said he’d fix it, didn't he? 

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to. 

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach. 

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers. 

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely. 

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway. 

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded. 

He doesn’t. 

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge. 

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full —  for as long as he gives you. 

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —” 

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say. 

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea. 

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

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multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Eat Your Young

Astarion and Tav take advantage of the rainy weather in camp. Pure smut, no plot.

Pairings: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, swearing. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Listen, usually I like a lil plot but Astarion sometimes deserves just some good ole smut, right?! Also inspired by the Hozier song, "Eat Your Young"

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

Astarion's hand roughly ran down your neck, the candles in his tent casting shadows over the space. He hissed in pleasure as his fingers gracefully found your collarbone, his nails tickling the skin around your neck. You groaned, your eyes fluttering closed.

"This is not what I came in here for." You said, even though you knew that was a lie.

Well, partly.

Basically since the beginning of your adventure with the companions, you and Astarion had found yourselves drawn to each other. First as friends, but then quickly into a sexual situation. A way to satiate yourselves, and to have a bit of shining light in the darkness that was all the doom and gloom and battle and blood.

"Oh?" Astarion asked, his mouth dangerously close to your neck, "And what did you actually come in here for?" His voice was melodic, almost a purr. You felt his fangs lightly drag across your neck - enough to leave a scratch, but not enough to break skin. You gasped.

"F-for the book," You were able to choke out, one of your hands finding his hair. You ran your fingers through his locks, earning a quick moan from Astarion, "The book I lent you last week. I know you're done reading it, so-"

"You came all the way across camp in a rain storm for a book you could easily get from me tomorrow?" He pulled away, his eyes twinkling. It was bullshit, and he knew it. "Is that why both of our clothes are off, and were discarded on the floor within 45 seconds of you coming into my tent, my pet?"

"Um..." You bit your lip and both of you smiled, "I'm easily distracted." You tried to argue, but Astarion's lips were on you again, his tongue quickly finding yours. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his body on yours, his erection pressing into your stomach. Thunder clapped outside, causing you to jump, which caused Astarion to wrap his arm around your back tighter, bringing you closer.

"What do you want, my darling? Tell me," He pulled away from your mouth, but his lips were still touching yours. Your heart pounded in your chest from his breath on your face, "Tell me what you want." His voice was velvet smooth, causing your stomach to clench. You groaned, unable to stop yourself - how did this fucking man know exactly what to say, and exactly what to do to get you going?

"I want your cock in my mouth," You said quickly, it coming out as one breath. His eyebrows raised and he smirked, wordlessly pushing himself to the edge of the bed to give you space. Looking down at his erection, you felt a wave of heat rush to your clit, unable to contain yourself.

Before he could even lay down, your mouth was on his cock hungrily. He moaned in surprise, his voice echoing off the tent walls. Immediately your mouth filled with spit as you worked on his thick member, using your tongue the exact way you knew he loved. His hands found their way into your hair and pulled, causing you to grip the blankets underneath your hands.

"Hells, you're so fucking good," Astarion grumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "Deeper." He commanded.

You made your way fully down on his member, causing his hips to buck in your mouth. You felt your eyes water a bit, and pulled up, taking your mouth completely off of his cock. "Does that feel good?" You toyed, pumping him in your hand. He moved his head back to look at you, his eyes a deep red. You watched the end of his mouth turn up in the shadow of a smile.

Suddenly, the rain started to beat harder against the tent walls.

In one swift movement, Astarion's hand grabbed your chin, pull you on top of him. His member, slick with your spit and precum, slid against your body, causing you to gasp. He looked between your eyes before hungrily crashing his lips against yours again, this time pulling your hair roughly.

"Not as good as it'll feel when I'm inside of you." He said in your ear, before biting your lobe. You moaned loudly, the noise getting lost in the rain.

"Then fuck me."

"Say please."

"Please, Astarion! I need you."

"You need me to what?"

"To fuck me. I need your dick inside of me." You reached down to his cock and started to pump him again, causing Astarion to erupt a small moan from his lips. He looked into your eyes one final time before he flipped you below him.

"On your stomach." He said, waiting patiently. He was sitting high up on his knees, looking down on you. Now, his cock was in his own hand and he stroked it slowly, taking the full length of his member in his palm. He didn't break eye contact as you got on your belly. Soon, you felt him spread your legs gently, and his body weight pressed on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll be screaming to the gods by the end of it." He murmured in your ear. You shuddered at his voice, and soon you felt him lining himself up at your entrance.

"Oh, Astarion..." You breathe, your thoughts becoming a jumbled mess. You heard him chuckle before he continued on.

"Are you ready?" He asked. You felt like you couldn't speak, your stomach was so clenched in anticipation. You nodded, and almost instantly his cock was deep inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You called out, lifting your head. As you lifted your head, Astarion took hold of your hair and pulled.

"Gods, you are so fucking tight." He groaned, every word accentuated by a thrust inside of you. You clapped you hand over your mouth so you wouldn't cry out, but he pulled it away, "Don't. I want everyone to hear."

"Fuck, Astarion!" You called out, his hands finding your hips for better leverage. You felt a heat start to rise within you, causing you to breath harder. "Don't stop! Right there-"

"Right there?" He purred, his voice teasing, "Right there and I'm going to make my good girl come?"

"Yes!" You moaned, his voice ripping through you, "Yes right there and I'm going to come. Don't stop!"

The sound of his cock pounding into you filled the tent as your mind became foggy. The pleasure started to soften the sides of your vision as Astarion gripped your hips, definitely leaving marks for tomorrow. As your words turned into incoherent noises, you felt Astarion thrust into you harder, making sure you felt filled.

"Show me you're a good girl," He murmured, his voice steady; in control. As Astarion often was - in control. It drove you crazy, usually the catalyst in tipping you over the edge. "Be my good girl and come for me."

Finally, you felt yourself spill over him as you cried out his name - the heat rose completely in you and for a moment, Astarion stopped thrusting in you, taking his hands and wrapping them around your waist, so that he could feel your orgasm completely. With your head so close to his, he whispered words of praise in your ear - "Good girl. That's it - come for me. Let me feel it. Give me all of it."

You panted, your thoughts finally starting to align again. As you regained control of your body, Astarion gently flipped you over. Spreading your legs open, he entered you again slowly, earning a whimper from you. Two thrusts in and he caused you to throw your head back, crying his name.

"That's it - that's my girl," He hissed, speeding his thrusts up slowly, "Let me see that pretty face, darling. Your pretty face is going to make me come."

"Astarion, FUCK. You feel so good!" You couldn't help yourself as he started again, one of his hands finding it's way to your erect nipples. He pinched and palmed your tits as they bounced with every thrust - the sight of your body bouncing, and your face calling his name, he wasn't far behind you with an orgasm. But, he wanted it to last...

He wanted to wear you out.

It was always so sexy seeing you struggle in the following days, knowing that he alone was the cause.

"Your cock...feels so good..." You panted, your hands finding their way to his shoulder blades. Thunder clapped again, drowning out the scream you cried as Astarion hit your spot. Once he realized how crazy he was driving you, he smiled.

"All for you," He grunted, "This cock is all for you." Sweat beaded at his temples as he stared into your eyes. They were dark, hungry - he started to get the glint in his eyes that he would before he was sent over the edge.

Astarion pounded into so hard that the bed groaned under the pressure. You could feel Astarion's body start to tense above you, so you gripped Astarion's ass, pushing him deeper into you.

The extra effort made you start to see stars, and Astarion was on the same page; "I'm close," He grunted, touching his forehead to yours, "Hells, you're going to make me come."

"Come for me," You breathed, placing a sloppy, rough kiss on his lips, "Come for me."

Suddenly, Astarion called out your name, and you felt him spill into you. The tension in his body reached his climax and gradually released, his body laying completely on top of you.

The only noise in the tent - besides the pounding rain - was your and Astarion's breathing. The shallow, quick breaths turned into deeper, heftier breaths and you regained your composure, the heating slowly leaving your body.

"Gods, you're beautiful." Astarion murmured, brushing your sweaty hair behind your ear gently. He delicately placed a kiss on your lips as he slid down to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight. You sighed contently, running a hand over his side and snuggling your head closer into his shoulder. A moment of silence passed before you spoke.

"I did actually come here for that book, you know." You teased, causing him to chuckle.

"Oh? Would you like me to go get it for you then?" He asked, pretending to get out of bed. You giggled and gently pushed him back down.

"Shut up," You playfully scolded him, "I just wanted to let you know that I didn't just come here to seduce you."

"But darling, it's so much fun getting seduced by you." He looked at you and smirked, his eyes sparkling. You rolled your eyes and placed a kiss on his mouth.

"Well...I guess I'll have to let you borrow my books more often, then."

------

My first time doing smut with no plot - I'm gonna be honest, I don't know how I feel about it yet! What did you all think?

Just a reminder: my inbox is open for requestions!

[pretzel-box]

I’m back!! And I have an idea!

Mkmk so could we please get a Happy Ending type fic where after reader and Sebastian escape the facility, reader brings him home and makes him a good, home cooked meal?? I’m such a sucker for sweet domestic shit and I NEED Sebastian to finally be able to relax.

Thank you so much!

Tags: Established Relationship, Happy End, Fluff, Domestic Life, Reader and Sebastian are living together in a sea-side home. Both are emotional.

Words: 2,2k

Authors note: I wrote it on two different days and isn't proof read, so maybe it sounds weird.

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest, the echoes of gunshots still reverberating in his mind. He stared at you, disoriented, his eyes wide with the lingering terror of his situation. It took him a moment to realize where he was, to understand that the screams, the glass shattering, and you. He saw you in front of him, screaming in panic, yelling, pulling on his coat as if your life depends on it. And somehow, he couldn't hear your voice no matter how hard he tried, his ears blocking out the sound.

“Se…b…ti..n”

“Seb…ast…ian…”

“Sebas…tian.”

He blinked a few times, his vision adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the curtains that floated gently in the sea-breeze. The smell of the salty ocean mixed with the delicious aroma of the breakfast you had prepared for him. His body, tense and curled up, began to relax as the reality of the present settled in.

You stood by his bedside, your expression a mix of concern and tenderness. Your hand rested gently on his shoulder, the warmth of your touch grounding him, pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare. A nightmare. It was just a memory after all and the realization made him sink back in the pile of pillows you got him.

"Sebastian," you repeated softly, your voice steady and calm. “You were having a nightmare again.” You offered a small smile, trying to comfort him. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn't be the last. The events were still fresh in your memories. "I brought you breakfast. I thought it might help."

He looked at the tray, eyes lingering on the sunny-side-up eggs, the crispy bacon, the fresh slices of bread, and the hand-poured coffee that steamed invitingly. His stomach growled in response, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten properly in… well, he couldn’t remember how long. The sight of the food, the smell of it, suddenly made him aware of just how hungry he was.

“It looks… really good,” he murmured, his voice still a bit shaky. “Thank you.”

You smiled warmly, setting the tray down on the small bedside table in his reach. "It’s the least I could do," you said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. His body was squished in the bed, his tail sticking a bit over the bed frame, so there wasn't much space for you. “You’ve been through a lot. I thought maybe a good meal might help you feel a bit more at home.”

Sebastian nodded, his eyes still searching your face, as if looking for reassurance that this wasn’t another cruel trick of his mind. That you were really there, that this place—this peaceful, cozy home by the sea—was real.

He sat up slowly, the rather small blanket falling away from his shoulders. His tail, which had been twitching anxiously, calmed as he reached for the coffee. He took a careful sip, savoring the rich, warm taste. It was a simple thing, but it was the best coffee he had ever had.

“This is… nice,” he said, his voice soft, almost uncertain. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. “It’s just coffee, Sebastian. Nothing fancy.”

“To me, it is,” he replied, his gaze meeting yours. There was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “All of this… it’s more than I’ve ever had.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You deserve this, Sebastian. You deserve a home, a place to feel safe. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

He felt his heart swell at your words, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—relief, gratitude, something warmer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He had been through so much—too much—but here, with you, he felt a glimmer of hope. A chance for something better.

He set the coffee down and turned to you, his hand still in yours. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

You leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian. We’re in this together. Always.”

He closed his eyes, taking in the comfort of your presence, the softness of your touch. He breathed in deeply, letting the scent of the sea and the breakfast you made fill his senses. For the first time in a long time, he felt… at peace.

“Do you want to eat together?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but knowing he needed to eat.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You moved the tray onto your lap, cutting into the eggs and bacon, offering him a forkful. He hesitated for a moment, blushing hard at the sudden offer, then leaned forward, taking the bite. His eyes closed as he savored the taste, a soft hum of approval escaping his lips. The taste of a lovingly self-made breakfast filled his mouth and it touched him to have such a meal after years of isolation and trauma.

“This is amazing,” he said, opening his eyes to look at you with genuine appreciation. “You’re amazing.”

You laughed softly, a blush creeping onto your own cheeks. “I’m just glad you like it. I wasn’t sure if you’d have an appetite after… well, everything.”

He nodded, understanding. “It’s… it’s a lot to take in. But this,” he gestured around the room, “this is good. Better than good. It feels… right.”

You smiled, your heart warming at his words. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

For a while, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal. The tension from Sebastian’s nightmare slowly ebbed away, replaced by a sense of calm, of normalcy.

After breakfast, you helped him out of bed, leading him to the small kitchen where you started brewing another pot of coffee. The room was filled with the rich, warm scent, and Sebastian leaned against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

As the coffee brewed, you turned to him, reaching out to brush a thumb across his cheek. “You’re safe here, Sebastian. I promise. No more nightmares. No more running.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes once more to savor the moment. “I know,” he whispered. “With you, I finally feel… like I’m home.”

You pulled him into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you in return. You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, listening to the soft rhythm of the waves outside.

When you finally pulled back, you cupped his face in your hands, looking into his eyes. “Stay with me, Sebastian. We can make a life here, together. A real life.”

He nodded, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice a soft whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

And in that moment, in the quiet comfort of your kitchen, with the sea breeze drifting through the open windows, you both knew that you had found something precious—something worth fighting for. A chance at happiness, at love, at a life free from the horrors of the past.

The sun had risen higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over your small seaside home. The breakfast dishes were cleared away, and the rich aroma of fresh coffee still lingered in the air. Sebastian was seated at the kitchen table as best as he could with his tall size, his eyes following your every move as you bustled about, wiping down counters and humming a soft tune.

You could feel his gaze on you, warm and intent, and it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Ever since you had rescued him from the facility, brought him back to this sanctuary you called home, there had been a quiet understanding between you—a deep, unspoken bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

Finally, you turned to face him, leaning back against the counter with a playful smile. “You know, you’re allowed to help around here,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not your maid, you know.”

Sebastian chuckled, his lips curling into a soft smile that reached his eyes. “I would, but I’m not sure I’d do it right. You seem to have a system,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you saying I’m a neat freak?”

“Maybe,” he teased back, his smile growing wider. “But I don’t mind. It’s… comforting. Feels natural.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You knew how much he had been through, the horrors he had witnessed and endured, and to hear him say that this place—the home you had made together—felt like home to him meant more than you could express.

Pushing off the counter, you moved to stand in front of him, placing your hands on the back of the chair he was sitting in. “Well,” you said softly, your tone turning more serious, “I want you to feel at home here, Sebastian. I want you to feel like this is where you belong.”

His gaze softened, his eyes searching yours. “I do,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I really do.”

There was a moment of silence, the air between you thick with unspoken emotions. Then, almost without thinking, you reached out, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, and you felt him lean into your hand, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Sebastian…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “I… I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would have done if…” Your own memories of the escape flashed through your mind.

He opened his eyes, capturing your gaze with an intensity that took your breath away. “I’m here,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, filling you with a warmth that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers. Without thinking, you leaned down, your forehead resting against his. The world seemed to pause, the only sound the gentle crashing of the waves outside and the soft beating of your heart.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, your lips so close to his that you could feel his breath against your skin. “I’m really, really glad.”

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a soft, tentative kiss. Sebastian’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you worried you had crossed a line. But then his hand came up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

It was slow and sweet, a gentle interaction, a promise of something more. His lips were soft against yours, his touch tender and careful, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still touching. You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all you saw was warmth and affection—a deep, unspoken love that made your heart flutter.

“Sorry,” you murmured, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I just… I needed to know.”

Sebastian smiled, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Know what?”

“That this is real,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “That we’re real.”

He nodded, his smile soft and reassuring. “It is,” he said softly. “It’s as real as it gets.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling with happiness. “Good,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

Sebastian chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stood there for a moment longer, just holding each other, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment. Then, with a soft sigh, you pulled away, your hand slipping into his. “Come on,” you said, your tone bright and cheerful. “I’ll show you around the rest of the house. There’s a lot more to see than just the inside. I haven't showed you the back.”

He grinned, standing up and following you as you led him out of the kitchen and into the cozy backside of the house. The sun was streaming down from the blue sky, casting warm patches of light on the worn but comfortable outdoor furniture. An old wooden bench, placed with pillows and a jar of seashells you had collected over the years.

“This is nice,” Sebastian said, looking around with a smile. “Feels… free. "Comfortable."

The back of the house is directly connected to the sea, like a little porch hovering above the water.

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently. “It is.”

He looked at you, his expression soft and full of affection. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice full of sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian.”

He nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But I still want to.”

Your eyes sparkled in the sunlight. "Let’s go back inside...P.AI.nter must be awake by now too."

And as you walked together, hand in hand, the sun warming your skin, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together. Because here, in this cozy home by the sea, with Sebastian by your side, you had found something precious—something worth holding onto after all the pain.

[imnameimswrld]

ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 ⁴⁴ ׄ ⑅ LH44 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ in which getting stuck in an elevator brings you to a truth that had been hiding and eating away at your heart.

— PAIRING ੭ lewis hamilton x fem!ready.

— FILE ੭ imagine.

— DISCLAIMERS ੭ angsty with fluff at the end and a little in between, not (currently) edited.

❪ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lewis hamilton masterlist ❫

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

"Fuck !"

Lewis delivers a rattling kick to the sealed shut elevator doors, and the action pulls an eyeroll from you.

"Oh yeah, kick it some more maybe the stainless steel doors will open on Sir Lewis Hamilton's command !" your words drip in sarcasm, you tone causing your boyfriend to turn and face you in the corner you're slumped back in.

You hands rub at your arms that your knitted sweater is failing to block the cold from, and despite the tension between the two of you, Lewis can't stand the site of you cold. So, he rips his jacket off with a huff, walks over to the corner you wish could swallow you whole if it meant giving space from him, and tucks the jacket so carefully and neatly around your front that you almost regret your thought about the corner of the elevator snatching you away from him – almost.

The atmosphere in the broken down elevator becomes even more chilly with the tension that settles between the two of you. Half of you wants to hobble closer and cling to his natural body heat, and the other half wants to firmly plant your hands on his shoulders just to shove him further away.

His presence right now is simultaneously making you beg for space and wallow in guilt, and the only way things could get worse is if he starts talking-

"I just don't understand it, Y/n."

A groan of annoyance echoes loudly in the square space. "Seriously Lewis ? You're gonna make me feel bad about declining your proposal ?".

He rounds on you, facing you fully with anger simmering in his gaze; but it's mixed eith another emotion. Hurt.

"Of course not, but what I want is an apology."

Matching his defensive stance, the jacket slips from your shoulders as you turn so quickly to face him. "An apology ? You want me to apologize for saying "no Lewis, I'm not ready for another marriage yet" ?"

Lewis shakes his head, his eyes dead set on yours. "That's exactly it actually. But not for declining me, but for lying to me, Y/n."

A silence blankets the two of you, but unlike the purpose of the item, it doesn't enclose you in warmth and comfort; no, it suffocates you with a so deeply embedded feeling of guilt, that your breathing halts for just a moment.

You and Lewis have been dating for three years now. Before him, the thought of committing yourself to another after the disloyalty of your last, made you shudder and almost feel sick to the stomach. You minded your business and kept in your own bubble for the good part of a year, and then Lewis so calmly squeezed himself into your life with a charming accent and a dashing smile, and with how he made you feel, you knew that he was here to stay. You love him, more than you've ever loved anyone before. He would make the perfect husband; he's loyal, kind, loving, uplifting – but, in the midst of those thoughts, and the wonderful adventures you experienced together, you failed to mention that you just weren't ready.

Your throat bobs sorely with the harsh gulp you take, and with how Lewis follows the action action closely, he knows exactly how you feel. He knows he's right. He knows he deserves an apology, and he's not stopping until he gets it. Breaking up isn't an option for him; he's chosen you to spend forever with, and that's not going to change. What has to change for him, however, is the treatment in this relationship.

If you expect honesty and loyalty from him, then he expects the exact same in return.

"You lied," he states softly, his brows losing the angry knot they were in as he remembers that night. "You said you were ready. You know you said it, and yet...".

The second the tears start welling up in his coffee brown eyes, yours immediately respond in the same way.

"You lied."

"I know." you whisper, even your voice facing the aftermath of your dishonesty.

"Why, Y/n ?" he shakes his head slowly now, hand coming up on pure instinct just to swipe your falling tears away quickly, before returning to his sides. "It's not fair, and you know it."

You sniffle, your gaze failing to continue it's silent words with his and you drop it, eyes staring down at his Tommy H sneakers instead. This whole thing is the effect of your dishonesty back then, so it's best if you're honest now.

"I was scared."

"Scared ?" he repeats, before tucking your chin in between his forefinger and thumb to gently lift your chin, resetting your gaze with his. "Scared of what, love ?"

Lewis inches closer, and with each step your confidence in yourself breaks.

"I was scares that, if I said that I wasn't ready to be married again, you'd...you'd..." the words can't even leave your mouth, let alone formulate in your brain properly with the pain the bring you.

"Talk to me, my love."

And with his arms enveloping you to eliminate the remaining space separating you from him, you break in his warmth.

"I was scared that you'd leave me, Lewis."

The truth is here, revealed, and she's rattling your entire being with cries and guilt. Lewis rubs a hand on your back while the other holds you close, your tear-stained face buried deep into his chest where his heart beats in your ear. You don't understand why he's trying to soothe you when you're totally in the wrong here.

Still, you will never refuse anything he offers you. He just means that much to you.

"If that was ever a fear for you Y/n, then I haven't been doing my duty in loving you like I truly do." he says ever so softly in your ear, and you immediately pull away to stare up at him with reddening eyes.

"No, Lewis," you shake your head as he wipes more of your tears sway. "I am in the wrong. You have shown me what it is like to be loved wholly and with passion."

"So then why have such an irrational fear, my love ? I love you with my entire being, and I want to spend forever with you," he says, cradling your pink cheeks in his hands with the utmost amount of care.

"Now that doesn't mean we have to get married any time soon, because of course I want us both to be ready for a step like that. But I would appreciate your honesty where it is vitally needed."

You nod in, your hands going numb from the death grip that have on the material of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Lew," you state. "Right now, I'm not ready for the step of marriage, however, I am positive that I do, want to spend my forever, with you."

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he places a blossoming kiss to your forehead. "Perfect."

"What ? My apology ?" you snort, peering up at him with glassy eyes.

He nods as he begins to help you into his jacket. "That, and just you in general."

You slip your arms in as you shake your head in disagreement. "Perfect people don't make mistakes."

Tucked warmly into his jacket, Lewis pulls you close once again to thread his finger into your hair as you close your arms around his waist.

"Call me insane or hopelessly in love," his gaze is filled with every passionate emotion unde under the sun as he stares into your eyes.

"But you'll always be perfect to me, my love."

[babyleostuff]

my little gamer | jeon wonwoo

when wonwoo came home from work, happy they let him and the boys end their schedule a bit earlier, he definitely didn’t expect you to be passed out on the couch.

with groceries, and your favourite candy in the bags he was sure you’d get to spend a bit of well deserved quality time over making dinner, maybe end the night with a movie, or him reading you a book in bed. but it looked like you had other plans. 

wonwoo quietly grabbed the blanket that was draped over your couch, and gently tucked you in, making sure you were properly covered, kneeling before your sleeping figure. his fingertips found their way to your hair that fell over your face, and gently, as not to wake you, he swept them away, revealing your pouty mouth, and rosy cheeks. 

wonwoo knew you didn’t like it when he took pictures of you when you were sleeping, always insisting you looked horrible when asleep, but wonwoo would do everything to have his polaroid with him now so he could capture this moment. 

he grabbed the bags from the floor, and not thinking too much about what made you so tired that you needed to nap in the middle of the day, he started preparing dinner, so you could eat when you woke up. 

“so cute,” he thought to himself, as he peeked from around the corner to see if you were still sleeping. 

soon, the smell of food woke you up from your slumber, making your stomach growl. at first, you were very confused why you could smell food, when your fridge and cabinets were out of anything proper to eat, but that’s when you noticed a familiar pair of glasses laying on the table. 

“wonwoo?” you raised yourself to sitting, fixing the cardigan of his you were wearing. he wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple of hours, and it was very unusual for the boys to end things so early in the afternoon. your mind started racing in worry that something bad had happened. 

“wonwoo?” you asked a bit louder, stumbling because of the blanket, which was wrapped around your body. weird, you couldn’t remember covering yourself with it. 

passing by the kitchen, you noticed a pot on the stove with something bubbling inside, and from the smell alone, you knew it was your favourite ramyeon. but wonwoo was nowhere to be seen. 

deciding to help him out with dinner, you turned down the heat a bit, so it wouldn’t spill, and busied yourself with cutting the vegetables that were already laying on the counter, convinced that your boyfriend just went to the bathroom. 

“what are these?” suddenly, wonwoo’s voice echoed through your rather quiet apartment, scaring you to the point where you almost cut yourself with the knife. offended, you turned to him. “i could’ve hurt myself,” but your voice faltered, as you saw what he was holding. 

in his left hand, he was clutching his old gaming headset, and in the other, some games you knew he didn’t play anymore. a warm rush of embarrassment rushed through your body, your cheeks turning into a pretty shade of red. wonwoo, on the other hand, seemed rather amused - both by the thighs he found in your room, and your reaction. 

you weren’t much of a gamer - you didn’t find it entertaining, and you weren’t really good at it either. you usually watched him play, cuddled to his side with a teacup in your hands. that was so much more fun than gaming. 

“care to explain, baby?” he smiled at you, setting the stuff on the counter. you knew wonwoo would never judge you for what you did, yet you couldn’t help but look down avoiding his gaze. “hey, it’s okay. look at me, baby,” he gently cupped your face, lifting your head, so your eyes could meet, as his thumbs stroked your cheeks in a soothing manner.

“i just…,” you took a deep inhale, trying to calm yourself before the embarrassment would eat you up. “i just wanted to be better at gaming,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of wonwoo’s shirt. 

he looked at you with a puzzled expression, his brows furrowed, and mouth in a small pout. “but you don’t like gaming. i don’t think i’ve ever seen you game since we began dating.” 

you sighed in defeat - you had to tell him why you took his stuff, wonwoo would not back down now. “i don’t like it, but i wanted to be better… for you,” you shyly admitted. “i know how much you enjoy gaming, and i didn’t want to be that girlfriend who doesn’t give a shit about her boyfriend's hobbies.” 

“but why would you force yourself?” wonwoo asked, stunned by your confession. his thumbs halted their movement, his whole attention focused on you. “you know i would never expect you to do something you don’t enjoy.” 

“i know. i just thought you’d be happy if i learned how to play.”

wonwoo let out a sigh, sneaking his hand to the back of your head, cradling it closer to his chest, so he could place his head on top of yours. “i would be happy knowing you do something you truly enjoy, and not force yourself to do something you don't like just to please me,” he wrapped his other arm around your waist, bringing you even closer to his body. 

“i love it when you watch me game. i love your presence next to me, and i wouldn’t change it for the world.” he smiled softly at you, patting your head, as you fell into a comfortable silence. with the feeling of embarrassment long forgotten, you let yourself melt into his embrace, nuzzling your head further up his neck, as you inhaled the familiar smell of his cologne. 

“wait,” wonwoo suddenly pulled your head back, and looked at you with a slightly worried expression. “don’t tell me you were sleeping now, because you stayed up last night gaming.” 

“please, don’t be mad?” you tried giving him your best puppy eyes, knowing that one - he wouldn’t fall for them either way, and two - he’d end up scolding you for staying up so late. “you’re such a hypocrite, honey. how many times have you told me to go to bed, and scolded me for staying up so late, hm?” he cupped your cheek, his gaze full of concern. 

“i did it for you, won.”

“you’re truly unbelievable, honey. 

the bubbling of the ramyeon brought you back to reality, wonwoo’s grip loosening to quickly take care of the boiling soup.

“would you help me?” 

“what was that, baby?” 

you put your hand on his back. “i want you to teach me how to game, and not because i want to make you happy. i really want to try.” 

“of course i’ll help you,” he smiled, and pecked your forehead. “my little gamer.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @uniq-tastic @wonvsmile @wonuwoo12 @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @vicehectic

[drluvsick]

𝟑𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 — 𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨

you and muichiro chat at 3am, leading to him making sure you know that you deserve him. for context, you both are hashiras who sleep in the same estate but in different rooms. established dating.

word count : 698

you waited for the herbal tea boiling on the stove as you took part in listening to the pour of the rain outside. it was comforting to say the least as it was chilly, bringing you to take the spare blanket you kept to drape it over your shoulders.

small footsteps echoed through the halls, immediately averting your attention to the sounds. you must’ve woken up muichiro. sure enough, as he stumbled into the kitchen, his sleepy face greeted you as he made his way over.

“sorry, muichiro. didn’t mean to cause such a ruckus,” you apologized with a tired tone, “go back to bed, alright? i’ll try to be there soon.”

he had his blanket draped around his shoulders as well. his voice, equally as drained as yours, spoke as he wrapped his arms around you. “i can’t sleep. can we cuddle?”

you loved this side of him, the side that awakened once having first tried hugging you. even after he’d regained his memories, there were still some emotions that he held away from others but opened up to you, such as his clinginess.

you reciprocated muichiro’s actions, moving your arms under his blanket to feel closer to him. you slid the cover off, throwing it onto the nearby chair as well as yours.

you made a noise of approval before ruffling his hair a bit. you both listened to the pitter-patters of the rain as it felt as if you two were the only ones in the world awake at that moment.

“…i made some tea, by the way. i’ll get two cups for us.” you reluctantly separated from him, much to his dismay. as if on cue, once you got the two said cups, the tea kettle whistled for you to fetch the contents inside.

having both your drinks in hand, you and muichiro sat down at the table.

blowing the steam rising from the tea away, muichiro shimmied his chair closer to yours. small talk was a thing you’d both enjoyed on early mornings like this, so he asked, “how was your last mission?”

“went well, nothing too exciting,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your tea. “you?”

“same here. but that demon pissed me off,” his brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“oh, the infamously stoic muichiro tokito being angry? how so?” you lightly teased.

“apparently he knew about us. he cursed you out. so i slashed him to pieces after slitting his mouth.” he said, perfectly serious before his mouth curved upwards a bit sinisterly at the memory.

you giggled and said you appreciated the gesture. he rested his head on your shoulder, carefully drinking his share of the tea. “oh, muichiro, i don’t deserve you…” you murmured mostly to yourself after a pause, hoping the rain would cover what you’d said.

he lifted his head up to look at you with a questioning gaze. “what makes you say that?”

“well…”—you looked up, away from his staring—“…you just…i guess…” you stumbled over your words, figuring out how to word this.

“if anything, i don’t deserve you.” he boldly said, making you snap your head to look at him in surprise. the usually calm, “air headed” hashira saying this? even if you two had been dating for quite a while, it still took you by surprise.

he continued. “remember when we first met? and the few times after when i’d forgotten who you were and you kept having to remind me?”

“but everyone did tha—”

“and how you kept being nice to me; even if you sometimes scolded me on my arrogance, which was rightfully done, after i’d brushed you off multiple times? i think i even called you ‘annoying’ and ‘a waste of breath’.” muichiro had put his cup down on the table, holding your arm. “i take those insults back, by the way.”

“you…remember that?” you were even more in awe of him.

“…i can remember a lot about you.” he finished with a slight smile.

you smiled back and ran your fingers through his hair. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he shut his eyes, the two of you in a comforting space in time listening to the continuous rain.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

[obeymematches]

Can I request the brothers reacting to mc saying i love you to them for the first time.

yessssss ❤��

Saying "I love you" for the first time

Lucifer:

You have been dating for months and you are yet to tell him you love him. It doesn't matter as your actions tell him every single day about your devotion. In your defense, he is also too proud to say it out loud. Maybe you two deserve each other after all, Just Say It Already, Damn. Today he could manage to take you out for dinner, ushered you home and made sure you felt good&loved, if you know what I mean. You were laying on your side, your hand holding your head up as he was getting under the blanket to put himself away.

"I love you, Lucifer. Thank you for today, I enjoyed every minute."

"I'm so glad. I love you too, y/n."

Now that it is finally over, he will be sure to remind you every day; he loves you, most ardently.

Mammon:

You were taking a stroll around town with him; you were a little tipsy which made you a little braver than usual. He took you to a place up top, where you could see the entire city from.

-Careful y/n, anything you say here echoes in the city, so keep quiet!

- Nu-uh, stop being so silly, no way it echoes here... see... I LOVE YOU MAMMON!

-What- Shhh- Human what you doing- damnit-

-Want me to do it again?

-....... you kidding me? sure but... this time only I wanna hear it.

Before you had the chance to say it again his lips were already on yours, his arms pulling you really close to him. (It did, in fact, echo on that part.)

Leviathan:

It was time for the annual cuddle break from his game. It took him weeks to get this comfortable with you, he sure did believe you were faking everything to prank him, for days. It took you consistent effort to prove him otherwise; that's why you were careful not to say it too soon. His head was laying on your chest, all was quiet for a second, both of you feeling peace surrounding you for once. Perfect timing.

"I love you." Then there was silence. You felt him squeeze you a bit, as if you could get any closer to him. He mumbled something you couldn't catch.

Satan:

He took you out to a local cat coffee. The date went really well, the cats were playful and the company was perfect. On the way home it started to rain; you might have stayed longer in the coffee than you intended, so of course you got caught. Thankfully he had an umbrella on him; you suspect he was expecting this situation to happen. You scooted very close to him to fit under his only umbrella. He haven't said anything for a couple of minutes when you broke the silence.

"I love you so much."

His steps slowed down a bit, turning himself to look at you.

"And I love you even more." He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead.

Asmodeus:

He had a long day today, he had to buy new clothes; the new season is here and he must keep up with fashion! You were at his room as he was giving you a spontaneous catwalk show in his new clothes. Of course he looked adorable in everything. You were sitting there cheering him on, - Another 10/10, you look so stunning Asmo!

- You think so? Don't you think green would look better on me?

- Oh come on now. You are breathtaking in every color. I love you.

He smiled, a very genuine smile in fact, and didn't hesitate to kiss you then and there.

Beelzebub:

He was strong enough to pull you closer to him as you were just a bit too far, both of you on the couch of the Common Room, watching a comedy. He kept stealing short kisses from you the entire time, needing your touch the most.

"I love you, you know." You could swear you saw his eyes tear up just a little bit.

"I love you too." He made sure you wouldn't see his face for the rest of the movie. Was extra cuddly with you that night.

Belphegor:

Today was awful for you and at this point all you wanted was a nap with your favourite person here. He promised to help you fall asleep; laying behind you he was stroking your hair from the front to the back, slowly and carefully. You were almost asleep when you quietly muttered;

"I love you." You couldn't see his expression but you sure heard a giggle from him.

"I love you too. Now, just relax and fall asleep."

[literaila]

winter blues 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"why are you here?"

"why are you ignoring my calls?"

warnings: seasonal depression (unmentioned but that’s what it is), comfort, avoidance, fluff, peter is nice (mostly) 

a/n: this is so random and so terrible but my computer doesn’t deserve to have this banished away. happy winter!!!! 

*

if you're in a mood--which you're not--then it is perfectly rational. 

and if you've been hanging up the phone, slamming doors, and throwing random objects around your room for the past couple of days--all done as some sort of ritual, of course, a method of which to maintain control--then it's fine. 

your room is a mess and there are more worthwhile, productive things to be done. 

which is probably why you aren't speaking to anyone. 

or, rather, effectively ignoring anyone who even attempts to get a word out toward you. 

when someone knocks on the door you duck under the covers, sure that your presence can't be detected with an extra layer of cotton protecting your body heat. 

when someone texts you, you simply pretend that your phone has died--despite the fifty apps you've got open and the lonely google tab, awaiting curiosity that escaped you weeks ago. 

when you go outside it's with your eyes tilted toward the ground, staring at cement like it's a newfound fascination. 

so, maybe you've fallen victim to the winter blues. maybe you've been consistently listening to one playlist entitled "don't listen to this, you loser," and not really listening at all. 

maybe you've been avoiding this actualization--being that you'd prefer to live in your own disgust rather than face it, thank you very much. 

and maybe, as you consider these missteps, you've got your face smothered into a pillow. 

you do not consider how long it might take you to fall asleep. 

*

there's a knock on your door. 

it is sullen and soft and all too loud for this time of day. four in the afternoon is made for napping, and you have made yourself into someone who no longer answers the door. 

you roll over on the couch, waiting for evading footsteps. 

you are met with only kind silence. 

and then a voice: 

"i know you're in there," he says. "and i know that you can hear me." 

peter knows nothing. 

you have made a point of that. 

you throw your head back, imitating a groan, and wonder how many minutes you'll have to sit through this before he gives up. 

you ridicule yourself as soon as the thought comes; when has peter ever given up on anything? 

"i'm not leaving," he echoes. "i'll knock on mrs. garrison's door and ask for a folding chair." 

you have been avoiding him for the past week. you have been thinking that if he sees you--even just once--he’ll know that something is wrong. that he’ll ask and you’ll have to tell. that he’ll bring up the one thing you’re trying to avoid. 

two things, you guess. 

and because you are sure that peter will make good on his threat, and also because you feel a pin-prick of guilt, you get up off of the couch. you curse your raggedy bones. 

try and recall when you last stood and how long you'll be able to stay standing. 

you go to the door, opening it with a glare. 

"peter," you say, dryly. your voice is rotted with its misuse. 

he simply smiles. "can i come in?" 

"why are you here?" 

"why are you ignoring my calls?" peter challenges, ducking under your arm to walk into your apartment without invitation. 

you try not to wince at everything he might stumble upon. 

like candy wrappers and water bottles and papers that you've crumbled until they're illegible, and others that you've folded into paper airplanes. 

socks and sweaters you've thrown around. a blanket that has served as both a preserver of heat and a tissue. 

dishes everywhere because, coincidently, you've recently forgotten how to use your dishwasher. 

"woah," peter blows out a breath. he turns back to you with raised eyebrows, smile somewhat fallen. 

you frown even deeper and cross your arms. "i'm not ignoring your calls. my phone died." 

peter stares at you. he leans over to grab your phone off of the couch--you'd forgotten it was there--and presses the power button. 

you both watch as it comes to life. it scolds you with notifications. 

"my ringer is off." 

peter just sighs and tosses it back in its forever place. "what's going on?" he asks, softer now, like his knock. 

you stare at his face and wonder again why he's here. why you even bothered answering the door. 

and then his brown lulls you into the earth, where you have no inhibitors. 

you rub a hand over your eyes. "it's just been a long week," you say because at least it's not a lie. 

"did something happen?" 

you shake your head. 

"are you feeling alright?" 

you nod. 

when you look up peter is closer. he is offering you something kind with his face. 

you want to wipe it off and slam the door in his face. 

"hey," he says, whispering to only you. "i missed you. i wanted to make sure you were okay." 

"well, thanks for checking in," you reply, grabbing his arm so you can pull him toward the door. 

peter laughs. "not so fast." he stops both of you with a foot on the floor. 

you scowl at him. 

"it's been a week since i've seen you," peter chides, like you're a child who's forgotten. "i'd like to have an actual conversation." 

you shake his hand off of you. "we're having a conversation." 

"you haven't even asked me about my week." 

you sigh. "okay." you pause for a moment, waiting for him to break. "how was your week, peter?" 

"long," he answers, quickly. "thanks for asking." 

you let a chuckle fall from dry lips. 

he takes another step closer. 

you're used to peter's hands on you--because they almost always are, especially when it's this cold outside and he likes to use you as an excuse--but it feels like more than just touching now. 

when he tilts your chin up with his hands, observing your eyes, you swear that he's actually probing you. 

that if he's the scientist, you are the lab rat being subdued to whatever experiment he's working on. 

"you look tired," he whispers, fingers tracing over sinkhole under eyes. 

"i am." 

peter bites his lip, eyes searching. "are you having trouble sleeping?" 

you can barely shake your head in his hands, but you attempt to anyway. 

peter swallows. "are you sick?" 

"no, peter. i'm okay."

he tilts his head. "you're tired. when was the last time you ate?" he asks. "or took a shower?" 

"i ate this morning." 

peter stares at you. he pokes your side with his iris'. 

"...i think." 

"baby," peter throws his head back. he plays it off as teasing, but you know that he's serious. "you can't just--" 

"i've been sleeping all day," you excuse. "i was gonna eat right before you came over." 

peter gives you another blank stare. 

you sigh at him, refusing to lie any further. 

at least he's fun to look at, you think. at least you're not completely irritated with him. 

"can i make you something instead?" peter asks, playing along. "you can go lay down and i'll bring it to you." 

your brows furrow. "you didn't come over to take care of me." 

"i did, actually. and to make sure that aliens hadn't gotten to you." 

"it's okay. you should tell me about your week," you attempt to put on a smile. "i'll listen real hard." 

"i will," peter promises. "but i want to make sure that you're okay first. you look..." peter shrugs. 

"terrible?" 

he laughs, just a little. brushes some hair from your eyes. "beautiful, obviously. just sad." 

your eyes close involuntarily. something in your chest comes back to life, unwanted and unwarranted. 

you should be able to handle peter saying nice things without wanting to cry. 

and you should be answering your phone and the door without any sort of hesitation. 

peter shakes his head like he can tell what you're thinking. "don't think so hard," he says. "what do you have in the fridge?" 

he gives you another smile. one that is so desperate and pleasing that you almost flinch. 

peter has molded under your darkened fingertips. 

he is shifting, just for you. and despite whatever denial you might feel, you're aware that you've been keeping him at a distance to avoid just that. 

he grabs your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen. he knows his way around. "let's go look. but you have to have more than a carton of ice cream because last time--" 

"peter," you whisper, pulling his hand back. 

he pauses. looks down at you. "hmm?" 

"will you--" you swallow. let the guilt fill your mouth. "will you--can you hug me? for just a little bit? i don't, um, i don't--" 

peter is quick to stop you. 

to wrap his strong arms around your back, cradling your head right against his shoulder. he lets you nuzzle into his neck, lets you grab onto his shoulders, and play with the hair on the base of his neck. 

he wraps you in comfort and warmth. 

like a present, he's wrapped you with care. he tells you that you can open it and look whenever you're ready. he whispers little things in your ear, about the things you've missed. 

he's gifted you this much. 

he loves you, he promises. 

and if you'll open the door for anyone, it's peter. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom

[cokoweee]

So I wrote it. And it came out a lot longer than I thought it would be. So here’s the first part.

There was a gentle lilt of music echoing through the halls. Which was odd considering he could have sworn his was off, and no one ever played music loud enough for others to hear it. He made no move to find the source, instead finding a strange tranquility in the song that was playing. It was too muffled for him to pick out the words, but the melody was comforting. Something he would have put on one of his own playlists. The tune drifted around him blanketing him in a strange melodic peace. There was a pause in his bliss as he slowly began to realize that his mind was bathed in sweet blessed silence. He froze, too scared to move-a pathetic fear of alerting the voices that he wasn’t currently drowning in self hatred griping his chest. He simply laid there and let the sound wash over him.

~

She was going to murder someone if she messed the stupid lip stain up again. Her reflection stared blankly at her, a red smudge just below her lower lip practically mocking her as she moved to grab the makeup remover. She scrubbed her lips raw with the remover softly swearing under her breath. The stain was still there. Maybe not as noticeable, but still there. It was meant to be a relaxing self care night, but she couldn’t seem to get anything to go right. Ugh. Whatever it wasn’t like she was going anywhere anytime soon.

She grabbed her phone and switched the current playlist (which was bathing the room in the sweet melody of Hozier) one of her favorite artists, to white girl music. Ah yes. Just the way to set the mood.

Reaching under the counter she had recently claimed as hers she grabbed a face mask. ( It wasn’t like Othello was going to use it. He was physically incapable of basic hygiene) Climbing on top of the counter to sit inches away from the mirror she carefully applied the mask. Rihanna blared in the background as she stared for just moment at her reflection, dark eye bags and dull hair, she sighed and grabbed her hair mask and under eye patches as well. At this point she just needed a fresh start.

She ran her fingers across her scalp working the mask through her hair, which she needed to touch up soon, and tied it into a simple bun on the top of her head. Just as she was reaching for her eye patches, a shadow caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

~

She was… sitting on his bathroom counter covered in something green. She stared at him, he stared back.

Say something! It’s rude to stare! STOP STARING AND SAY SOMETHING YOU IDOT! She’s going to think you’re crazy.

“Turn that off” he grumbled nodding his head toward her speaker.

Great going! Perfect thing to say! Wow that’ll make her feel awesome Don bon!

She made no move to change her playlist, instead quirking an eyebrow up,

“No.” She spat. “I’m having a moment. To myself. Right now. Which you are ruining.” She gestured angrily. “Leave before I get Cas to beat you up or something”

“Why” he said stupidly

“Everyone deserves to have a little moment to themselves” she mumbled shrugging.

Not everyone. Not you. Spa days are to spend with your lovely lovely twin. Who is gone.

He really didn’t need to be reminded. Donatello didn’t deserve to enjoy something that was meant to be shared with his twin. How could he enjoy pampering himself without his twin there making snarky remarks and gossiping about his latest adventure with some new yoki boy ?

And he was still just sitting there staring at her. Great.

Do something! Go back to your room and drink enough to forget this interaction even happened! LEAVE.

She was still staring at him, clearly determined to beat what she thought was a battle of wits, before deflating a bit and motioning to the floor beneath her. He dumbly sank down on the floor facing her, his body moving in autopilot. She grabbed one of her hair ties and tied his hair into a neat little bun on the top of his head before grabbing a bottle of… something. His eyes warily followed her actions.

She looked down from her perch atop the counter and tilted his chin up slightly, holding it there as she slathered something cold onto his face.

Pretty. Soft hands. Feels nice.

Getting pampered without me?

He pulled away. Nope. He couldn’t do it.

She frowned

“What? Too worried about your bad boy reputation to let me put a face mask on?”

He jerked his head no. But the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“You don’t need to do this.” He mumbles, actively avoiding her gaze.

She sucked in a quick angry breath before grabbing his face forcing him to look at her.

“You literally let me live in your house for free, the least I can do is spare some of my self care stuff.” she scoffed.

Ok yeah sure, that was true, but all he did was sit and drink. Or listen to music. Or stare into nothing. He had nowhere to go, no one to see, and no reason to indulge himself in self care. Why should he be able to care about himself while he could no longer care for his brothers and his brothers could no longer care for him? He couldn’t bring himself to find joy in something they too had loved. It was easier to condemn himself to a life of suffering and misery, so he could somehow equal himself to his family. They were buried under dirt, while he was lucky enough to only be buried in guilt.

He started to pick himself up off the floor but was quickly pushed back down.

“Nuh uh. You’re not going anywhere.”

She grabbed his shoulder and forced him to sit again, taking his face a little more roughly this time, and slathering the mask around his face, taking extra care around his eyes, before removing his bun and replacing it with some clips she had materialized from who knows where, and turning him toward the wall, running her hands through his hair. She gently pulled some of the larger tangles apart with her hands as he stayed still, allowing her to work. He worked on not grabbing her hand off of his head every time she tugged a little too hard and slammed his whole head against the counter. He really doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Especially considering the full force of his entire family fighting for attention from him, their voices echoing against his skull.

“Stay here “she threatened, suddenly jumping off the counter and running out of the bathroom to grab something else he didn’t really didn’t deserve. She had barely made it into the hall before she shoved an unlocked phone into his hands, open to her personal playlists.

“You can choose whatever”

End of part one. idk how many parts there are I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Ok I’m gonna go touch grass now.

THEY LET ME POST IT AAAUURTGGGG

this’ll be linked in the master posts I hope u know

Part 2

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 16 - The Past Is The Eternal Past

Summary: Kate and Arthur welcome a new life into the world. The scene brings back tender memories of Arthur's past, he finally finds the courage to open up to her about his family.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters  Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: So much fluff and feels!! This is day 2 at Emerald ranch, solid 8.3k words. Thanks for being patient with my updates, I know things have started to slow down. I'm hoping that in a few weeks I'll be able to get back to consistently posting again!

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Arthur drifted into a peaceful slumber, a rarity in the tumult of his existence. It felt as if he had never experienced such peace before, as if the world had paused just for him. Seamus' small ranch house offered no spare room, yet Kate, with her selfless nature, offered to sleep on the couch for Arthur's comfort. But he politely refused, urging her to share the bed with him, a sanctuary meant for two souls to find sleep in each other's embrace.

As they kissed and conversed late into the evening, the storm outside began to wane, its fury subdued by the soothing melody of raindrops dancing upon the roof. Their words mingled with the gentle winds, weaving a blanket of intimacy that cocooned them in warmth. Wrapped in each other's arms, Kate held him close, her embrace a shield against the uncertainties of the night. With his head nestled beneath her chin, Arthur found refuge in her presence, his breathing synchronizing with the rhythm of her heart. And as sleep finally claimed him, she tenderly caressed his hair, her melodic hums blending seamlessly with the whispering wind and the gentle creaks of the old house. The smell of the bath still lingered on his skin, and she could hear his gentle snore, soon Kate found herself slipping into deep sleep.

As the morning sun filtered through the mesh curtains, casting a golden glow into the room, Kate stirred from her slumber. The distant call of roosters heralded the arrival of dawn, their voices resonating loudly in the air. Yet, despite the warmth of the sunlight, a chill swept over her as she realized the space beside her was empty, void of Arthur's presence.

With a languid stretch, Kate rose from the bed, her movements fluid as she dressed herself. She resolved to seek out Arthur, knowing well his penchant for being useful and tackling the early morning chores. She savored a quick breakfast, the aroma of freshly cut strawberries mingling with the crisp morning air, before setting off on her search.

Her footsteps echoed softly in the quietude of the barn, the scent of hay and animals enveloping her in familiarity. And there, amidst the rustic charm of the wooden beams and the soft whinnies of the horses, she found him, just as she had anticipated. But what captured her attention was the tender scene unfolding before her.

Arthur stood beside Dolly, the massive mare, his presence calm and assured. He gently coaxed her to eat from his hand, his other hand gliding smoothly down her snout and neck in a gesture of reassurance. The sunlight streaming through the barn’s wooden slats highlighted the tender scene, casting a warm glow on their interaction. Arthur's voice was a soft murmur, whispering soothing words to the horse, his touch both gentle and firm, embodying a patient strength.

Kate watched in awe, her heart swelling with admiration for Arthur’s ability to connect with the mare. Every movement he made was deliberate, a testament to his respect for the animal. The way Dolly responded, bowing her head and accepting his touch, spoke volumes of the trust he had earned.

A soft smile played on Kate's lips as Dolly greeted her with a friendly nicker, the mare's ears acknowledging her presence with a flick. “Good morning,” Kate called to them, her voice breaking the serene silence of the barn. “Seems like she’s takin’ a liking to you.” She stepped into the stall, her gaze fixed on Arthur.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Arthur greeted her, enveloping her in a warm embrace as he wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a lingering peck on her lips. They tasted like his morning coffee. His touch was filled with affection, and Kate blushed, the warmth spreading from her cheeks to her chest—a sensation she was still getting used to.

Kate leaned into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as she stretched up to meet him. “Was a tad surprised I woke to an empty bed this mornin’,” she whispered teasingly, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. Tipping his hat back slightly to give herself better access to his features.

Arthur grinned at her insinuation, his deep blue eyes filled with admiration. “I’d love nothin’ more than to lay in all day kissin’ a pretty lady,” he said in a low, tender voice. With a soft sigh, he added, “But there’s work to be done. ‘Sides, I think Miss Dolly here is havin’ her baby today.”

Kate’s brows shot up in surprise, and she turned from his arms to evaluate Dolly’s condition. Sure enough, the mare was showing early signs of labor. Her belly contracted softly, and milk leaked from her teats. “Well, I’ll be,” she said quietly, a smile spreading across her cheeks as she rubbed the mare's belly affectionately. “You ever delivered a foal before, Arthur?”

Arthur’s grin widened, a mix of excitement and apprehension in his eyes. “Can’t say I have, but I reckon there’s a first time for everything,” he replied, rolling up his sleeves. “Guess I’m in for a lesson today.”

Kate chuckled softly, her hand still gently rubbing Dolly’s belly. “I’ve done it a few times, long ago back on my family’s farm. We just need to keep her calm and be ready to help when the time comes.”

Arthur nodded, his expression serious yet eager. “I’ll follow your lead, then.”

The two of them worked quietly together, their actions synchronized as if they had been doing this together for years. They took turns feeding the other barn animals their breakfast, ensuring they had fresh water and clean stalls. The morning was filled with the soft sounds of munching hay, clucking chickens, and the occasional grunt from the pigs as they discovered fresh mud puddles left by the storm.

Periodically, they checked on Dolly’s progress, making sure she was comfortable as her labor advanced. Each time Arthur approached the mare, he spoke to her in soothing tones, his hands gentle and warm. Kate watched him with admiration, her heart swelling with affection for this man who had become her partner.

They exchanged smiles and glances as they worked, falling into a rhythm that felt as natural as the breeze blowing around them. The storm had left the grasses glistening with dew, the air fresh and crisp. Sunlight filtered through the barn’s open doors, casting warm, golden patches on the ground.

As the afternoon approached, they sat together on a wooden crate outside of Dolly’s stall, sharing a simple meal of bread, cheese, and apples. The air was filled with the scent of fresh hay and the earthy aroma of the barn. Kate leaned back against the barn, her eyes half-closed as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face.

“This feels good,” Kate said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. “Sittin’ here with you, takin’ care of things. Feels right, don’t it?”

Arthur turned to her, his smile soft and genuine. “Makes me wish we could do this every day,” he chuckled, taking a bite of his apple.

Kate could hear the subtle longing in his tone. Arthur craved a simple life, yearning for it amidst the chaos of his existence. His situation was unique, tangled in a web of crime and infamy that made it impossible to simply run away and start anew. He was wanted in every state, raised on a life of crime and rebellion. Kate knew it wouldn't be easy to break him from that cycle, but she hoped this was a start. Sowing the seeds of domesticity and honest living into his heart, she dared to dream that one day he might leave the gang and take the reins of his own life.

Arthur gazed out over the plains, watching the horses and cows grazing peacefully. The sight seemed to soothe him, the simplicity of the scene a stark contrast to the life he led. Kate watched him, admiring the way his side profile was illuminated in the afternoon glow. The sun cast a warm, golden light on his rugged features, highlighting the sweat glistening on his cheeks. His eyes, shadowed by the brim of his old leather hat, were filled with a longing.

Kate let her thoughts drift, imagining a life where they could find peace together. She envisioned a small farm, nestled in a quiet valley, where they could wake up each morning to the sound of birdsong and the gentle rustling of leaves. She pictured Arthur working the fields, taking care of the animals and while she maintained their home. Daring to dream of a family again, perhaps even children someday, she thought. She shook her head at the idea, getting ahead of herself. But in the back of her mind, they lived a life of simple pleasures.

Kate reached out and placed her hand on Arthur’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. “Maybe one day, we will,” she said softly.

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The sun was kissing the horizon as Dolly eased herself down into the soft hay, finding a comfortable spot to lie on her side as her instincts took over. The mare's heavy breaths mingled with the sounds of the barn, creating an atmosphere of anticipation and gentle urgency. Kate and Arthur remained close by, their presence a comforting reassurance for the laboring mare.

Kate settled near Dolly's head, her fingers moving soothingly along the mare's neck. She whispered calming words, her touch gentle, ensuring Dolly felt secure. The warmth of the barn and the scent of fresh hay enveloped them, creating a cocoon of calm amidst the imminent arrival.

Arthur leaned against the wall of the stable near Dolly's rear, his eyes focused and attentive. Ready to inform Kate the moment the foal's feet appeared, he prepared himself to leap into action when Dolly showed signs of struggle. The tension in the air was thick, a mixture of concern and excitement as they awaited the new life about to enter the world.

Kate’s voice, calm and steady, broke through the quiet hum of the barn. “When the foal’s legs are out past the first joint, grab hold and tug gently,” she instructed. “But only when Dolly pushes. We don’t want to hurt her or cause any tears. Just enough to help the baby along.”

Arthur nodded, leaning down on one knee, his hands steady and ready, heart pounding with anticipation. He admired Kate’s calm authority, her knowledge and experience guiding them through the moment. His respect for her deepened.

A memory crossed Arthur’s mind, transporting him back four years ago to when Abigail had gone into labor with Jack. The scene was etched vividly in his heart. Arthur knew he could never make up for missing the birth of his own son, so when little Jack came along, he resolved to support Abigail in every way he could. John’s refusal to accept the child as his own infuriated Arthur. It angered him that John wouldn't even step in to help Abigail in her time of need.

He recalled how the girls had spoken softly and encouragingly to Abigail, their voices a lifeline amidst the pain. It was much like how Kate now spoke to Dolly, a soothing murmur that went beyond species, connecting mother to mother. The memory of Abigail’s grip on his hands, fierce and unyielding with each contraction, came flooding back. Arthur had known then that Abigail was far stronger than she ever let on. Her cries and grunts had filled the night, and Arthur had been there, wiping the sweat from her brow, rubbing her back and even holding back her legs when exhaustion threatened to consume her. It was an experience that solidified his connection to the girls, he was and always will be their protector. 

A profound guilt gnawed at him when he thought about what Eliza must have gone through, alone. The thought of her enduring the pain of childbirth without him there to support her was a wound that never fully healed. But that feeling had been momentarily washed away the moment Jack took his first breath, followed by a triumphant cry as if announcing, “here I am, world!”

Arthur remembered the overwhelming rush of emotions that had washed over him as he left the tent to give the new mother some privacy, but also to hide his empathy. Silent tears had flowed freely, a mixture of joy for Jack’s healthy birth and sorrow for the child he had forsaken.

The minutes stretched on, each one filled with the soft sounds of Dolly’s labor and the reassuring presence of her human companions. The barn was a world unto itself, a sanctuary where the outside ceased to exist. It was just them, Dolly, and the new life beginning to make its entrance.

As Dolly pushed, Arthur saw the tiny hooves begin to emerge. “Kate, I see them,” he called softly, his voice laced with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Kate moved slightly, her focus sharpening. “Alright, Arthur. Remember, only when she pushes.”

With careful precision, Arthur followed Kate’s instructions, his hands grasping the foal’s legs gently. He waited for Dolly’s next contraction, feeling the tension in the air heighten. When the mare strained, he pulled gently, his movements synchronized with her efforts. The foal's legs felt incredibly tiny and fragile in his hands.

Time seemed to slow as they worked together, a seamless dance of trust and cooperation. Dolly’s powerful contractions and Arthur’s careful assistance brought the foal further into the world with every moment. Kate continued her soothing ministrations, her voice a constant source of comfort for the laboring mare. She guided Arthur through her contractions, telling him when to stop pulling and when to grab further up the body as it slowly came into the light. 

Finally, with a final, triumphant push, the foal slid free, landing in the soft hay. Steam rising from its warm wet body as it blinked its large blue eyes for the first time. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he marveled at the tiny, fragile creature now lying before them. Kate moved quickly, joining beside Arthur as her hands helped clear the foal’s airways and stimulated its breathing.

Dolly turned her head, her large eyes filled with maternal instinct and curiosity. Kate guided the foal closer to her, ensuring the bond between mother and baby was immediate and strong. The foal, a beautiful chestnut brown with a black mane and light blue eyes, shared the distinctive white stripe down his snout with his mama. As he nuzzled against Dolly, searching for his first meal, Kate and Arthur exchanged a glance filled with shared joy and pride.

Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the tender scene before them. Wiping his dirty hands on his jeans, he sank back down into the hay, releasing a satisfied exhale. “I reckon he’s gonna be a fine young colt someday,” he said with a smile. “We’ll have to come visit him when he’s older.”

Kate giggled softly and slid down to sit by his side, their arms brushing together. She leaned her head gently on his shoulder, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. “Oh absolutely,” she agreed, her voice filled with affection. “You wanna name him?”

“Me?” Arthur’s voice raised with a hint of surprise.

“Well, you are the one who delivered him,” Kate assured, her eyes twinkling with encouragement.

Arthur thought for a moment, his mind wandered to the nights he spent recovering, when the fever ravaged his body. He recalled the night Jack had read to him, a story of adventure and friendship that had brought him comfort during those long, painful nights. A smile crept onto his lips as the perfect name called to him. “How ‘bout Huckleberry?” he suggested, his voice soft and thoughtful.

Kate’s eyes lit up. “Huckleberry,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. “I love it. It suits the little guy.” She grinned from ear to ear, memories of Jack’s kindness during Arthur’s time of need made her heart surge with warmth. Especially since Arthur remembered the moment too.

Arthur’s smile widened, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. “Good ol’ Huck,” he said, wrapping an arm around Kate. They watched the little foal as he suckled contentedly. His tiny black tail swishing reverently. “He’s gonna be a brave one, ‘specially if he takes after his ma.” He chuckled.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As evening settled upon Emerald Ranch, the golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky, casting a gentle glow over the fields and buildings. The ranch was tranquil, the storm's remnants now only a memory. Kate and Arthur worked side by side, diligently completing the day's chores to ensure everything was in proper order for Seamus and his family’s return the following morning.

They mucked out the stalls together, the sounds of their shovels mixing with the soft murmurs of the animals. Arthur's returning strength and Kate's efficiency made the work go quickly, their coordination spoke volumes of their growing bond. They fed the animals, the barn filling with contented munching and occasional snorts. The simple tasks brought a sense of normalcy and domesticity. Kate hummed a tune and Arthur whistled quietly as the two worked together. 

With the chores done, they found themselves back in Dolly’s stall, the heart of their day’s labor. The soft light from the lanterns cast a warm glow on the new family, highlighting the tender scene before them. Dolly lay in the hay, her eyes half-closed in contentment as she watched over her newborn foal. Huckleberry, the beautiful chestnut filly with his striking blue eyes, was beginning to explore his surroundings. Sniffing about and attempting to stand on his skinny legs.

Kate and Arthur settled down in the hay once more, their shoulders touching as they sat close together. The warmth of Arthur's body was comforting against the coolness of the night. Kate leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched the foal with shared anticipation. 

“Look at him,” Kate whispered, her voice filled with awe. “He’s so full of life.”

Arthur hummed quietly in agreement, his hand resting gently on Kate’s thigh. His thumb traced lazy, comforting patterns over the fabric, grounding him as he watched the tender scene before him. Huckleberry wobbled, his little knees buckling under the weight as he adjusted to standing on solid ground for the first time.

With a gentle nudge from Dolly, the foal stood up proudly, his legs straightening as his mother’s large snout supported him. Kate held her breath, her eyes filled with hope and encouragement. When Huckleberry took his first tentative steps, only to plop back into the hay with a soft grunt, she chuckled warmly. “Keep tryin’, Huck, you’ll get there,” she quietly encouraged.

Arthur was transported to another time, another life. He thought of Isaac and the milestones he had missed. Eliza had been kind enough to write to him about their son's progress, telling him how Isaac had taken his first steps and would soon be running around the house. She had always ended her letters with a plea for Arthur to visit them, to stay. Her hope and prayers that he might one day choose to abandon his life of crime weighed heavily on him now, adding to the regret that he carried.

The tenderness of the moment with Kate and the foal stirred something deep within him. He felt an overwhelming need to share his burdens with the one person he felt truly understood him. Perhaps Hosea’s words held some truth. Kate had remained by his side through the worst, and this moment felt right. 

Arthur’s heart pounded relentlessly in his chest as he mustered the strength. “Kate,” he began softly, shifting his position so he could look her in the eye. “I had a son.”

Kate’s eyes widened slightly in shock at the sudden news. Arthur drew a shaky breath and continued, “He passed away, long time ago.”

Kate gently took his hand, her expression shifted to one of deep sympathy and understanding “Oh Arthur, I’m so sorry for your loss.” She was inclined to believe there was more to this outlaw than meets the eye, his gentle and reserved nature foreshadowing a past similar to her own. The loss of a child connected them in ways she could not have imagined, and her heart ached for the man she was only beginning to discover.

“I know I shoulda told ya sooner. It’s just—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “It’s just hard to talk about them sometimes.”

Kate nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “You told me when you felt it was right, Arthur. I know it’s probably been on your mind now for some time.” She thought of all the times she had talked about her daughter with him, knowing now that he must’ve been thinking of his own child in those moments. Unsure how to tell her of his own loss, she knew it must've scarred him deeply. Arthur nodded quietly.

Understanding washed over her, and she suddenly grasped the depth of the bond between Arthur and Jack. Abigail trusted Arthur with her son because he once had a son, and he had extended that parental love to his nephew. He sees his son in Jack, and Kate knew from their first interaction that he had a protective aura that only a father could provide.

“That must have been very hard for you and Mary,” she continued softly, moving her hand to his cheek. Her touch was warm and soft, it eased his wounded heart.

Arthur leaned into her touch, closing his eyes with a sigh. He knew he couldn't talk about Isaac without mentioning Eliza. “No, he wasn’t Mary’s kid,” he began, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “It was a different girl. Met her in a bar one night, and next thing you know...” He shrugged his shoulders, he knew it was taboo to have a child with a one-night stand but Kate made no judgment. “But she passed away too.”

“What are their names?” Kate asked gently, surprising Arthur with her question. She didn’t ask how they died, and he was grateful. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to relive that part of his past yet. Talking about them as if they were still around eased his heart.

“Eliza and Isaac,” Arthur breathed the names like a prayer on his lips. “I don’t much like talkin’ about them. The grief, I still don’t understand it. Even after all these years.” His voice was thick with emotion, the weight of his loss pressing down on him like a heavy shroud.

Kate nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. “Grief ain’t meant to be understood,” she said softly. “It’s meant to be felt, lived through, and carried with us. It shapes us, but it doesn’t have to define us.”

Arthur chuckled dryly, a bitter edge to his laughter. “Wish I had that wisdom sooner. Their deaths hardened me, turned me into a man I couldn’t recognize.” His gaze drifted away from her, shame creeping into his belly as memories of his drinking and fits of rage swam back to the surface. He remembered the nights he spent at the bottom of a bottle, trying to drown out the pain, and the mornings he woke up with fists clenched, ready to fight the world.

Kate’s light laughter pulled him from his dark thoughts, like a soothing melody. “Death hardened me too. I mean, take one look and tell me. Do I still look like a picturesque housewife to you? Certainly not.” She chuckled, a sound so full of life and resilience it made Arthur’s heart ache. It mattered not how proper she looked to the rest of the world, to him she was just perfect. 

“I miss my family dearly, but nothin’ I do will bring ‘em back. So I just keep movin’ forward, trying to do right by them, be a good person for their sake,” she added, a small reassuring smile spreading across her lips. “But you know, it wasn't always like that,” her eyes glimmered with a mix of sorrow and conviction, the strength of a woman who had faced unimaginable loss and emerged stronger for it.

Arthur was in awe of the way she could talk about death and grief, turning it into something positive. To take the torment and break it like a bad horse, polishing it down to what it really was: love. His grief and regret may have looked ugly on the surface, but beneath it all, it was an overwhelming love with nowhere to go. Kate had found a way to channel her love into something beautiful, a tribute to those she had lost.

“How did you do it?” Arthur asked quietly, his thumb tracing the knuckles of her hand, seeking solace in her touch. His voice was a whisper, filled with the raw vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. 

Kate sighed softly, her eyes reflecting the depth of her own pain and resilience. “Well, it wasn’t easy,” she began. Arthur recalled the night she had shared her past with him, the way her voice trembled with rage and agony as she recounted the woman she had chosen to leave behind. The woman who had faced unimaginable loss and yet stood before him, stronger than ever. “I struggled on my own for a long time. And even when I thought things were getting better, grief would sneak up on me once again.”

Arthur listened intently, his heart aching for the pain she had endured, a pain that they now shared. He could see the flicker of old wounds in her eyes, the shadows of memories that still haunted her. But there was also a strength that shone through the darkness.

Kate continued, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Eventually, I learned that it can’t hurt me, so I stopped fighting it. I let it come. I feel that pain, but I don’t let it take hold of me.” She paused, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. “I let it wash over me, and then I let it go. Because I know that the love I have, the love I’ve lost, it’s all a part of me. And I had the choice to do something good with it.”

Arthur nodded, absorbing her words. “I carry a lot of regret with me,” he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his past. “I wish I knew how to feel it without it taking hold of me.”

“It’s a form of self-punishment, Arthur,” Kate said softly. “You can either suffer the pain of regret, or learn from your past and move forward from it.”

He looked at her with hopeful eyes, each flicker of self-doubt met with her unwavering reassurance. Her words gave him a sense of peace and clarity he had longed for years. Hearing it from her lips healed something deep within his heart. For the first time, he dared to believe he could move on from his past.

They sat in companionable silence for a bit, the quiet moments filled with a shared understanding that spoke louder than words. Arthur gently brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and Kate responded by peppering a few tender kisses against his rough lips. His troubled memories of loss were met with the warmth of her affection, earning a light smile that softened his features.

“Will you tell me about your son?” she asked suddenly, her voice curious but gentle. She gave him the choice, leaving the door open for him to decide if he wanted to open up.

Arthur took a deep breath, his gaze distant as he collected his thoughts. “Isaac,” he began, his voice wavering slightly. “He was a bright kid, full of curiosity. Always askin’ questions, always wantin’ to learn. Eliza used to say he’d grow up to be a scholar or somethin’.”

Kate listened intently, her heart aching for the pain she could see etched in his eyes. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “He sounds like he was a wonderful boy.”

Arthur nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He had this smile that could light up a room,” he said, thick with emotion. “Loved animals, just like his old man. I remember one time, he found this injured bird. Brought it home and insisted on takin’ care of it. He and his Ma nursed it back to health, and when it was strong enough to fly, he let it go. He was so proud of himself.” Arthur didn’t mention that he was absent for most of these stories, only knowing the details through Eliza’s letters. 

Kate’s eyes shimmered with warmth as she imagined the scene. “He had a kind heart, just like you.”

Arthur chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know ‘bout that, but he was good. Better than I ever was.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Arthur’s words hanging in the air. Kate reached out and gently wiped a single tear from his cheek, her touch tender and comforting. “Thank you for sharing him with me, Arthur. I know how hard it can be to lose a family, and I’m proud of you for how far you’ve come.”

Kate’s words encouraged more silent tears, he quickly wiped them away. Clearing his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. “He was a real good kid. Just wish I had more time with him.”

“I do too, honey.” She said softly, almost motherly. Her thumb tracing his jawline in a comforting gesture.

Arthur breathed deeply, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “But it helps, talkin’ ‘bout him. Keeps his memory alive.”

Kate nodded, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her. “And I’ll be here, whenever you need to talk about him. Or anything else.”

Arthur leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips conveying the depth of his gratitude and affection. “I’ll remember that, Kate. Thank you.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Later that evening, the newly coupled pair found themselves back in the cozy confines of the little ranch house. The day's labor left them both weary but content. Kate prepared a simple dinner of rice and chicken while Arthur freshened himself up. The aroma of the meal filled the house, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. After dinner, they made their way to the bedroom, savoring every moment of their last night together away from the gang, the world of outlaws, and the endless running. For one more night, they were just a couple of simple ranch hands.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, and the bandage wrap over his shoulder wound removed. He rolled his arm uncomfortably, the day's labor catching up to him, bringing a throbbing sensation and the familiar tingling in his fingers.

“You alright?” Kate asked softly, unplaiting her braids and combing through the locks with her fingers. Her eyes were filled with concern and tenderness.

Arthur nodded wearily, stretching his arm. “M’fine. Just sore. Pain medicine’s wearin’ off.” He gestured to his satchel with a tired smile.

Kate understood and moved to the satchel on the table, searching through its contents to find a tonic for his pain. She grabbed the balm for his wound as well as the little bottle of elixir, but something small and round caught her attention. She pulled out a peach pit and looked at it, confused for a moment, before realization dawned.

“You kept this?” She asked with a light chuckle, holding up the pit. Memories came flooding back from the first night she stayed in camp.

Arthur looked up and smiled, a light blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah, your kindness meant a lot to me. I couldn’t throw it away.”

“I never knew you were the sentimental type,” she said, her smile widening as she closed the distance and handed him the small vial. Arthur popped the cap off and downed it in one swig.

Kate opened the salve, gathering it on her fingers before she began to massage it into the flesh of his scar. He moaned softly, closing his eyes as she spread the balm, her fingers working his muscles, squeezing and rubbing his aching body. His hands moved to the back of her thighs, encouraging her to stand between his legs.

“Maybe we can plant it someday,” he said finally. “On our own land.”

Kate giggled softly. “You wanna be a peach farmer now?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked up at her, his gaze intense and sincere. “I'll be whatever, s’long as I’m with you.”

Her heart melted at his words and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Arthur. You are sweeter than any peach, you know that?” she murmured, the corners of her lips tugging into a smile.

Arthur suddenly tugged her body down to him, pulling her into his lap. Kate let out a surprised yelp, quickly followed by a delighted laugh. He pulled her into a deep kiss, his large hands roaming her back, snaking their way up her spine and into her hair. She sighed blissfully at his touch, radiating tenderness. His large body was intoxicatingly warm, she could feel the heat of him through the fabric of her clothing. 

Their lips met and broke with a light smack sound, engaging in a dance as they explored each other's mouths. An intimate melody of resonant hums and breathless pauses, the quick intakes of air, and the subtle, almost imperceptible sounds of lips moving against each other, slick with desire. Intense and consuming, echoing their fervent connection.

Arthur’s lips were rough yet gentle, filled with a raw passion that matched Kate’s soft and eager ones. Her hand cradled his head, occasionally tugging on his soft hair, eliciting a groan from his throat. Kate swallowed the sounds, their passion heating with each passing moment. The room around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other, in a world where nothing else mattered.

Arthur moaned as Kate's lips moved against his with a fervent urgency. Their kiss deepened, mouths opening to explore each other with wet tongues. They pressed their lips together hard, feeling the heat of their breath mingling. There's a sense of hunger, of wanting to consume and be consumed. A newfound fervor to pull each other close, eliminate any space between them as their two bodies pressed together. Every touch, every movement feels electric.

Kate’s hands began to wander, tracing the contours of his chest and feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Arthur’s hands were not idle either. They roamed up and down her back, fingers tracing the lines of her spine and the curve of her waist. His touch was gentle yet possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling her close to him. His fingers played at the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in a swift motion. He ran his hands over her bare skin, marveling at the warmth and strength beneath his touch.

Arthur groaned softly, his head falling back as Kate’s lips left his to trail a line of feather-light kisses down his neck. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled slightly under her touch. Her lips brushed over the pulse point in his throat, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

“Is this alright, Arthur?” Kate whispered against his skin, her voice filled with both desire and concern.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, meeting her gaze with a mix of adoration and longing. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice low and husky. “S’more than alright.”

Encouraged by his words, Kate continued her exploration, her lips moving down to his collarbone, then kissing back up the other side of his neck, sucking at the soft skin. The press of her lips sent a shiver down his spine, he felt relaxed and electrified. A deep desire and craving for more. He moaned softly and squeezed her thighs, massaging her flesh. 

She could feel the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under her touch, the way his breath came in shallow gasps. Her hands wandered lower, tracing the lines of his abdomen, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the soft skin of his belly. She was grateful his weight returned with his recovery, preferring her lover to be healthy and robust, finding comfort in his solid presence.

Arthur wrapped his good arm under her bottom and suddenly lifted her up, with a gasp she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. Kate's breath hitched as Arthur turned and pressed her into the mattress, his body a warm and comforting weight above her. His lips found hers once more, kissing her deeply, passionately. Their tongues danced together, wet and eager, exploring each other's mouths with a hunger that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, a hard and undeniable presence that sent a thrill through her entire body. Recalling their previous night, Kate made no move to initiate anything further. Wanting to wait until Arthur felt comfortable and letting him take the lead. She focused instead on the heat of his kisses and the way his hands roamed her body, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her.

Arthur's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. He reached her chest, his breath hot against her skin as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Kate moaned, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure washed over her.

“Arthur,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to worship her chest. The sound of his name on her lips, filled with such longing and need, seemed to spur him on. His free hand slid up her side, caressing her soft skin, while his mouth moved from one breast to the other, lavishing equal attention on each.

Kate's breath came in shallow gasps, her hands wandering over Arthur's chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breaths. His fingers traced the curves of her body, sending shivers of delight down her spine. They moved together in a seamless rhythm, each touch and caress deepening their connection.

Arthur's mouth left her breasts, trailing kisses back up to her neck. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. He sucked gently at the soft skin, leaving marks that would remind her of this night for days to come. Kate's moans filled the room, mingling with the sounds of Arthur’s husky groans, creating a symphony of desire and passion.

Their hands continued to explore, each touch a promise of more to come. Kate's fingers traced the lines of his abdomen, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. Arthur's hands roamed her body, squeezing her thighs and massaging her flesh, his touch gentle and possessive.

Despite the intensity of their passion, Kate could sense the restraint in Arthur, the way he held back, unsure of how far he could go. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her eyes meeting his with a look of understanding and reassurance. “We don’t have to take it farther, honey,” she whispered against his lips. “I could lay here just like this, all night long.” 

Arthur nodded with a smile, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. “Thank you,” he murmured, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that spoke of all the things he couldn't yet put into words. His hand slipped back under her, lifting her slightly to deepen the kiss, their bodies pressed together in a perfect fit.

Kate's heart swelled with love and desire, each touch, each kiss, strengthening the bond between them. As they continued to make out, she could feel the barriers between them dissolving, replaced by a deep and abiding connection that would see them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

They kissed and touched, their passion growing with each passing moment, yet always careful, always mindful of Arthur’s comfort. Inside the little ranch house, all was calm, a sanctuary of love and desire, where they could be themselves, free from the burdens of the past and the uncertainties of the future.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally pulled away, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Their lips swollen and red, soft pink bruises marred the exposed skin. A sign of their heated passion where lips met the sensitive flesh. 

Arthur rested his forehead against Kate’s, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m going to miss this,” she whispered, her voice filled with a bittersweet longing.

Arthur's brow furrowed slightly. “Miss what darlin’?”

“This,” she said, gesturing to the space around them. “Being here, just the two of us. Away from everything.” 

Her words were vague but Arthur understood what everything meant. The chaos that was his life back in the gang, his role as Dutch’s right-hand, and most importantly his title as an outlaw. 

Arthur's expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “Sweetheart, you know I—” he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “I wish things were different. But the gang is the only family I have.” He spoke. Arthur longed for the same dream, a simple quiet life. But there were certain duties he needed to uphold, people that he couldn't abandon. 

Kate nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “I know, honey. Trust me, I know. You would kill for them and you would happily die for them. I just hope that you will choose to live, for me too.”

Arthur's eyes darkened with emotion, his hand tightening around her waist and pulling her close to his chest. “Kate, you mean more to me than you'll ever know.” He breathed against her skin. “I promise you, I'll do my best to make it through this. For us.” The words came out with such intensity it may as well have been a vow.

Kate smiled softly, her heart aching with love for the man in front of her. She knew the path ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she also knew that together, they could stand unshaken. “I believe you, Arthur,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The first light of dawn crept into the room, casting a gentle glow over Arthur and Kate as they lay entwined in the warm embrace of their shared dreams. Arthur stirred first, blinking against the soft light, a peaceful expression settling over his features as he admired the sleeping woman beside him. Kate woke soon after, her fingers brushing tenderly against his cheek as she whispered, “Time to get up, love.”

They rose together, the intimacy of the previous night lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. With a shared glance and a soft kiss, they began their morning routine, dressing quickly and heading outside to greet the day. The ranch was bathed in the golden light of early morning, the dew on the grass shimmering like a thousand tiny diamonds.

Arthur and Kate worked in quiet harmony, cleaning up the barn and ensuring everything was in order for Seamus and his family. Arthur mucked out the stalls, his muscles straining but his heart light, while Kate fed the animals and refilled their water troughs. The work was satisfying, grounding them in the simplicity of ranch life and the shared purpose they found in each other.

As the sun climbed higher, a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, signaling the return of Seamus and his family. Kate wiped her brow with the back of her hand, glancing at Arthur with a smile. “Looks like they’re back.”

Arthur nodded, leaning against the stall door as they watched the wagon approach. Seamus jumped down, a wide grin spreading across his weathered face as he spotted the two of them. “Kate! Good to see you. How’d it go?”

Kate stepped forward, her smile warm and welcoming. “Went just fine, Seamus. Dolly gave birth to a beautiful colt. We named him Huckleberry.”

Seamus’s eyes lit up with delight. “Well, I’ll be! That’s wonderful news. Thank you both for taking such good care of the place.”

Arthur tipped his hat, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Was our pleasure, Seamus.”

Seamus clapped Arthur on the shoulder, his gratitude evident in his eyes. “You two are welcome here anytime. Don’t be strangers, you hear?”

After exchanging a few more words and ensuring everything was in order, Arthur and Kate made their way to the hitching post where Lorena awaited them. Arthur saddled her up, the familiar motions bringing a sense of calm and purpose. Kate stood by, her hand resting gently on Lorena’s neck.

Once Lorena was ready, Arthur swung up into the saddle, then reached down to help Kate up behind him. She settled in, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back. With a gentle nudge, Arthur urged Lorena forward, the horse moving with a graceful ease as they left the ranch behind.

As they rode together back to Clemens Point, the weight of their recent confessions lingered in the air, a tangible presence between them. The steady rhythm of Lorena's hooves was the only sound, a soothing backdrop to their thoughts. The camp was not far off now, the familiar landscape bringing with it a sense of impending reality.

Kate broke the silence, her voice uncertain yet curious. "What do you wanna tell the others?"

Arthur's response was gentle and kind. "Whatever makes you comfortable sweetheart. But if you plan on hidin’ it, just know nothin’ gets past those girls,” he chuckled. “John too."

Kate knew the women in camp were incredibly perceptive. They spent their days in close quarters, becoming experts at eavesdropping and reading the silent language of the other camp members. But John surprised her. "John too, huh? Didn’t strike me as the observant type."

Arthur's gaze was fixed on the path ahead as he spoke. "Well, he’s not. But he knows me pretty well, sometimes too well. Can’t blame him though, we were practically raised together.” His voice carried a hint of nostalgia. “But he knows how to keep his mouth shut. If not, I’ll just shut it for him." He added, Kate chuckled lightly. Imagining the banter between the two brothers.

After a moment of silence, Kate hesitated before speaking again. "You know,” she began. Her tone was cautious. “John told me he got a lead on them O’Driscoll boys. Says he wants to form a posse and go after them for what they did to you."

Arthur's jaw tightened, and frustration crept into his voice. "Then he’s a goddamn fool. No sense in takin’ revenge for my sake. Does Dutch know this?"

"Most likely not," Kate admitted. "Dutch told me he had a plan a while back when you had the fever. But you know how that goes. John mentioned it to me the other night ‘round the fire. Sounds like he’s got a decent lead to get a jump on them."

Arthur's tone grew darker, his concern palpable. "Kate, revenge is a fool’s game. I’ve seen it kill too many folk. Promise me you won’t get swept up in that mess."

A fierce determination sparked in Kate’s eyes. "Those men deserve hellfire for what they did to you, Arthur." Her vow to cease taking another person’s life lingered in the back of her mind, but all of that changed the day she protected the Marston’s wagon from the raiders. The thrill of the fight no longer brought her joy, but she understood the dangerous reality of life within the gang. When push came to shove, she would have to kill out of necessity. Arthur’s captors may not be a necessity, but the thought of them almost taking him from her ignited a deep-seated rage within her, like a coyote in the night waiting for the right moment to strike its prey.

Arthur sighed, his grip on the reins tightening. "I’m sure the families of the men I’ve killed said the same ‘bout me. But you know what happens when they come to get revenge? They end up dead," he said gravely. "By my hand," he added bitterly.

Kate’s resolve wavered, her voice softening. "I know, but Arthur—"

Arthur cut her off, his voice firm and unyielding. "Enough. Promise me you won’t go with him, Kate."

The weight of his words settled heavily in the air. Kate could feel the depth of his fear, the terror of losing her to the same fate he had narrowly escaped. She took a deep breath, her voice steady. "I promise, Arthur."

As they approached Clemens Point, a mix of emotions swirled within Kate. She felt a deep sense of relief and happiness knowing that she and Arthur were finally together, bound by their shared understanding and the thread of fate. Yet, a shadow of uncertainty lingered, aware that Arthur would soon plunge back into the perilous abyss of whatever schemes Dutch had conjured. The ever-present threat of danger felt closer than ever, a dark specter gnawing at the edges of her heart. The thought of him stepping back into harm’s embrace sent shivers down her spine. Despite this, she clung to the hope that their love would be the anchor to keep them grounded amidst the chaos, giving her strength to face whatever lay ahead.

~~~

A/N: uh ohhhh is there some foreshadowing here at the end? I won't say. But things are gonna start picking up pace again and I'll be returning to the game plot in the next chapter. Their lives are about to get a little crazy! Sorry if I bore anyone with these filler-chapters but I needed a break after what happened w/ Arthur's torture....and I wanted them to get their feelings out there in a safe space away from all the camp nonsense. I think they had a good time wouldn't you say? As always thanks for reading!!!! <3

[cecedownbad]

Hold On

Summary: A missing child's case resurfaced so many memories you wished to keep buried. Sure enough, seeking comfort from the heavy feelings came by as a form of a person. [Spencer Reid X Fem!Reader] Part 1.

Warnings: Death of a child, made up case, made up case numbers, abusive mother, absent father, no Y/N, there is a last name: Cyrus. Hurt/ Comfort. A two part fic, Spencer is a supportive friend here. Pretty much a whole episode of CM. Probable inaccurate science facts, not that great at writing mysteries, I think, don't mind the weird conclusions. Self indulgent in all it's glory (minus the fem part), my apologies. Proof read but I'm blind so lmk if there are bothersome errors.

Word Count: 4.7k

Based on very sad songs that I won't put up cause we deserve better. Binged all 16 seasons in 2 weeks, it was worth it.

Enjoy

"I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise."

-Anaïs Nin

"Mom, where's Steven?" A dark room, with nothing but a single bed, and a desk that contained one clock furnished the surroundings. The ticking of the clock resonated within you, each tick causing you to step forward to a door ajar, light seeping through it.

Not too bright, not too dark, moonlight streaming in through the cracks much like a distant scream in a faraway place. "Sweetie? Go back to bed, you have to go to school tomorrow." A still voice poured in, the voice echoed in almost engulfing you but your feet already brought you face to face with what caused all your nightmares. "Steven has not come back from his play time. Where is he, Mom?" Your voice is so soft yet embroidered in concern. "Steven is okay, go back to bed." The woman in front of you smiled, her smile was stretched. Her eyes harboured nothing as if you stared right into the abyss.

Yet, her face was...gone, her eyes were full, her smile, so impeccable but where was her face, why couldn't you remember?

"Oh my sweet girl, you look just like me." She beamed but you stood there confused, to which you backed away from the room and entered your bedroom.

Nothing was out of place, everything remained as it was, like that day, what day was it?

When your eyes took in the room you noticed a small juice box, the very same one Steven had drunk, right after he...wait, who was 'he'?

Then you heard her, "I told you to go to sleep, didn't I?" The anger that seethed from her caused nothing but fear to blanket you. She towered over you, whispering, "I took Steven to a better place."

That was when you knew, your little brother, was never coming back from his play time, he was never going to drink his favourite juice again. That was his fault, he just didn't listen to Mother. This is what happens to children who disobey.

You turned around and smiled at her, "Mother," you called out, "I'll be a good girl, I'll never disappoint you."

All the while you quivered, knowing that your little brother was gone for good, "Steven, I'll find you, I promise."

'I promise, Steven...'

'Who's Steven?'

Your eyes shot awake like you'd been shot with a bullet to your gut, 'Ugh, what?' The sudden rush of light filtered in, waking you from your short nap and making you rub and squint your eyes, then you felt how sticky your back had felt, the palms of your hands damp from sweat. 'You were calling out to someone just now, you said, "I'll find you, I promise, Steven" in your sleep.' Spencer questioned you, his eyes gathering that you showed signs of having a bad dream.

'Uh, nothing, it's nothing, just haven't got much sleep, is all.' You brush off the question, looking around, you get up from your seat, taking in that you were returning from a case in Wichita and the team was on the jet back to Quantico. You excused yourself to the bathroom, the size of it and the dim light were not ideal but you needed to freshen up.

Twisting the faucet, you let the water run and washed your face, the cold water woke you up right away. A sudden rush of relief had hit you, a sense of comfort knowing that your bad dream could not seep into reality, the safety of it was that you knew nothing could get to you when you were surrounded by the best agents you could ever meet.

It happened not too long ago when you were invited to join the BAU, thanks to a recommendation from the Criminal Investigation Division.

Grabbing a tissue from the dispenser by the sink, you wiped your hands and face, throwing the used tissue in the slot made for waste disposal right below the sink. A sigh sounded out of you, with one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straightened your clothes and walked out of the loo. 'How are you doing?' Spencer asked you as you sat in the seat before him, his right hand holding an open book, which you presume is written in Russian. 'Yeah, I just had a bad dream, nothing big.' You once again dismiss him.

It wasn't exactly an alarming thing to have a bad dream. On the contrary, you were accustomed to having nightmares and bad dreams but this one was different, recurring in all its forms. The sounds, the sights, were familiar but all the more terrifying, there wasn't a feeling so twisted as this one. 'I don't think it was just a bad dream, your breathing rate increased from the normal 12 to 18 breathes per minute to 25 to 30 in the three minutes after you woke up and you were sweating profusely. Are you sure you're okay?' He breathed out, his eyes already reading your every movement, catching how you twitched when he caught that you were not telling him the truth. 'Reid...thank you for worrying but I—'

'Alright, crime fighters, how's everyone doing, all tucked in?' Saved by the bell as it goes, Penelope popped up on the jet's screen, 'Yeah, can't wait to get some sleep.' JJ groaned.

'Uh about that, I'm really sorry for putting this on you guys, I know you guys are tired and I hate doing this right after a case and- I have some bad news.'

'What is it, Garcia?' Emily asked

'Okay so you have another case, it's a missing child case in Bakersfield, a 6 year old boy named Stephen Turner, last seen in his, oh this is so sad, in his room. A report was sent 12 minutes ago.' The name made you freeze, you could hear your heart beat quickening, the way it felt like it could run for miles was a pain you were sure you put behind. 'Garcia is that Steven or Stephen?'

'Oh I'm pretty sure it's Stephen, my love.'

'Okay, thanks...' it wasn't relief that washed over you, but the name carried a heavy weight.

'Bakersfield, California, Right?' Luke clarified. 'Yes newbie, I'll have the files sent to you immediately on your tablets and the rest should be at the local Police department there, Good luck guys!' Garcia signed off immediately after.

'Okay, we know the drill, we only have 24 hours or we'll be looking for a body. I'll inform the pilot to change course. When we land, JJ and Rossi go to the Turner house and speak with the parents. Reid go with them, we need to know how he was taken from his room. Luke and Tara, I want you to scout the neighborhood, maybe someone saw something.' She turned to face you, 'Cyrus, you'll be with me, we'll speak with the Chief there.' Emily gave everyone their designated tasks.

Everyone exchanged nods with their partners. You exchanged a glance with Emily, standing up from your seat, you chose to stand all the while till it was necessary to be seated when the jet landed.

-----------------

'Chief Marks, this is SSA Cyrus, I'm Unit Chief Prentiss, What have we got so far on Stephen Turner?' She quickly shook hands with the PD Chief, You took it as a chance to observe the department, a missing child case gave you little time for formalities. 'So far, zilch, I have some of my officers posted around the neighbourhood, even questioned across the street, said they saw nothing.'

'My Agents are already there, let's hope they turn up with something new.' Emily informed the chief and led you both to an empty conference room, informing you that this was the only available room at such short notice. 'Chief Marks, would you mind bringing in prior missing child case reports, preferably going back 20 years.' You asked before he got the chance to leave, there was still one nagging question that you had to rule out.

Could your mother be involved? Or was it your paranoia getting the best of you? but a job was a job, if an MO matched with an old case, narrowing down suspects was a huge load off.

'Anything you need.' He answered in the affirmative after a pause.

'Something in mind?' Emily asked you.

'This is my hometown, I've read my fair share of missing child cases but if there's a chance one of them bares any similarities, we might be able to narrow down our search.' You explained, opening boxes of the gathered information on Stephen.

'Yes, I'm sorry I forgot, after the case maybe you can go see your folks?' The thought was so lighthearted but you had gulped in guilt at the words, 'No, we need to go back to the Academy...my folks and I aren't in good terms.'

'Oh, let me know if there's anything I can do?' She asked softly, which you smiled to in response, 'Of course.'

Emily was always a friend before a Unit Chief when she caught on to indications of a slight change in behaviour, it made it a whole lot easier to speak to her about things you wouldn't bother about with your old Unit Chief.

---------------------------

'What have you got so far?'

'Nothing solid, of the two stacks of cases brought in, 2/3ds hardly match the MO and, the remaining few, let's say it didn't end well for the kids.' You gritted your teeth at the last sentence.

JJ, Rossi and Spencer walked in right at that moment, 'What did you find?' Emily asked the three.

'There wasn't a sign of struggle in the room, it's likely the UnSub and Stephen knew each other or he could have been drugged, there was no sign of a break-in either but the spare key that was left under one of the plants was missing, UnSub definitely planned the kidnapping and was aware of the layout of the house.' Reid informed.

'Mom and Dad are worked up, said they didn't hear anything from the kids room upstairs, hasn't gotten into any fights at school or kids around the area or within the family.' Rossi states.

'Yeah, Joy, Stephen's mom, said he was well liked, got good grades, knew not to trust strangers,' JJ took a deep breath, 'He's a healthy 6 year old boy and apart from not being athletic, he's just one normal kid in a family of 4.'

'Wait, 4?' You stopped JJ.

'Yeah...he has an older—'

'Sister? Say 11 or 12?' You completed, the fear inside you built. 'Yes, 12, how, how did you know?'

That same empty feeling drained out of you, fear blanketed whatever memory you recalled from this place. 'Good guess, I think, is the family here I, uh, I want to speak with them, maybe the sister even.'

'I can ask them to come in but why?'

'I think she might know something or maybe even the UnSub.' You breathed, 'I'm gonna go out for some air, Emily?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Thanks.' You nod slowly and walk out of the conference room and out of the PD. You leaned back on the wall, sunlight barely visible due to it now being autumn, orange-tinted leaves lightly grazed the pavements. Passersby walking hand in hand or holding on to a warm drink. It's a pleasant scene for the beginning of the most painful nightmares.

'...Steven.'

'You said his name again.'

'Ah! Jeez, Reid! You scared the crap out of me, don't do that again!' Stepping back you raised your hands ahead of you in defense.

'Sorry, I brought you coffee.' He offered.

'Thank you, what are you doing? Out here, I mean.'

'I know it's a little bit of an unspoken rule that we don't profile on the team but-'

'But, you profiled me,' you sighed, this was expected, you knew he was only worried about you but it never occurred to you that he'd come looking for you. Being in the BAU for more than a year doesn't make you chummy with each other, especially with Dr. Spencer Reid, or so you've heard.

He was cautious around you, he was not afraid, just that he could tell you preferred solitude compared to the average population. But he never took the chance that when you displayed more emotion than you would otherwise, to walk away. Always asking if you were alright, leaving you small treats at your desk knowing that it helps you. You kept to yourself and he respected that, in turn, so did you. Not many catch on to your subtle way of pulling back from too much physical contact, or the way you'd always make the person before you speak, knowing they had no chance of asking you about the details of the life you lived.

In a way, admiring his skills as a profiler was easy to come by. More so his little actions that left you thinking that he was one of the few people you'd consider opening up to. So listening to his observations was, if not intriguing, worth betting on.

'Okay, tell me what you got.' You let him have at it.

'Well, I would go into statistics but I'll keep it short. You have been on edge from the moment Garcia mentioned your hometown and judging by the way you keep mentioning this person's name, who I'll assume is someone you know from here and bad...things happened, causing you to have nightmares now more frequently maybe due to an anniversary.' He laid out like you were an open book. Who were you kidding? Where would he be if he wasn't good at his job?

Your brows knitted and you let out a painful chuckle but you knew that wasn't all he figured out. 'What else?'

'You had also correctly estimated Stephen's sister's age simply based on the fact that they are a family of 4, which tells me that this isn't the first this has happened here, in fact the very first time it did, it was very close to you or maybe you were involved.' He finished the last of his deduction and looked at you, searching for a mistake in his findings, it concerned you after all.

'You got me, ha. That name, Steven, he um, he was—' you tried completing your sentence, your lips began shaking and you looked away from Spencer because other people seeing you cry was never on your bucket list. 'Steven was my little brother.' You bit the words but it spilled out in all it's shapeless glory.

'Was?' Spencer questioned.

'He went missing, 20 years ago...he was 6, just like Stephen and I was...11, just like that little girl.' It took everything in you, every bone and muscle to let out what you couldn't for 20 years. 'Do you know what happened to him?' Spencer quietly asked. 'All I know was that my mother had brought him out to play and he never came back, whenever I asked all she would do was look at me like maybe I should've been the one that was gone.'

'Does anyone know? Someone had to be searching for him—'

'Reid, no one knew my brother, they...forgot him, or chose to. I couldn't ask what had happened or go to the police station because my mother, she would tell me he was okay.' The warm streaks of salty tears had left your eyes, you wanted them to stop, it was shame and regret that filled your mind. 'Four days from now would be his anniversary of the day he disappeared.' Wiping your cheek and turning to face Spencer, you caught a glimpse of a man that looked like he knew.

Knew how much you were hurting, how that showing this side of yourself was only making it worse.

'I—'

'I'm sorry to interrupt but the Turner family is here.' An officer from the department had called you in. 'Yes, I'll be right there...Reid, thank you for the coffee and for uh, listening, I'll fill you in on the rest if you want.'

He subtly nodded and you both ushered inside.

You spotted the family and exchanged a quick greeting, expressing your apologies and understanding of the situation you began asking questions and later focused on asking the little girl, who was shaken up but put on a brave front to stay strong. Braver than the parents, you note.

'Hi, Tina, right? How are you feeling?' you bent down to meet her eye level. 'I'm fine, it's Stephen I'm worried about and you should be too.' She strongly expressed. Her concern for her brother was what made you smile inwardly, 'We are, Tina but we're going to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?' Quickly gaining the quiet approval of the parents you proceeded.

'Are you and Stephen close?'

'Yeah, he's very clumsy so I have to look out for him a lot, and because he's so short, I don't like people thinking they can pick on him.' She answered true. 'That's very good Tina, you're a wonderful sister, tell me, lately has there been anyone you know who's been close to Stephen besides you or your parents?'

'No not really, he's got two friends but they both moved away...oh!' The girl had a moment of realisation. 'There's this lady that visits our house sometimes. My mom and dad usually say hi to her, and she keeps asking me if Stephen's been studying well.' She completed.

'That's Rosa, she's the head of the neighbourhood watch, she was with me even when I was in labour  at the hospital here, suggested the name too, you don't think?' The mother's face contorted a little as her mind raced.

How could you forget your mother's name, she flaunted it for as long as you stayed with her. Rosa Cyrus, a symbol of hope so domineering, it paralysis any that gets too close to its core, that's who she was, or who she saw herself as.

'We can't say for sure ma'am, but you should stay here. Thank you, Tina, what you said was very helpful. We'll find your brother, I promise.' You stuck your hand out and she grabbed it quickly, giving you a wobbly handshake her little hands could gather. 'Uhm, Ms. FBI Agent ma'am, I really want to see my brother again, please.'

You sucked in whatever painful thought you gathered and gave the family a smile.

'Thank you, please find him.' The father could barely put up a brave front, his face already riddled with tear stains. 'We will.'

'Good job.' Rossi was outside the door, he gently patted your shoulder. 'Hmm, we need to find him.'

'And we will, after all, with a team like ours and not to mention boy genius, we'll find the kid.' Rossi's words brought comfort.

--------------------------

You immediately called Garcia once you entered the conference room where everyone was gathered, 'Find the location of Rosa Cyrus, any properties in her name and any known associates, She might have moved to this neighbourhood 10 years ago, also I need you to trace her past phone calls and bank transactions.' You felt your patience running thin, you knew this woman from the moment her name-dropped, she was your mother after all. Now all you wished for was that you got rid of all traces of her, including her last name.

'Um Hi?'

'Garcia, now.'

It wasn't your intention to be demanding, or sound angry, emotions getting in the way of work has rough consequences. 'O-okay, I'll be back as soon as possible.' You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your forehead. 'Who is she?' Tara asked you, and you paused and looked at her, it was then that you caught on that everyone in the room had a torn look of concern directed at you.

'My mother.' You took your chance and here spills the truth.

'Your mother? What does your mother have to do with this?' Emily asked, she wasn't asking as a friend but as your chief. 'Tina said that Rosa Cyrus had been visiting their house every now and then, checking in on Stephen, claiming that she was only doing her duty as the head of the neighbourhood watch. The mother said she was even present when he was born, and gave him his name too.'

'But why—'

'Okay guys, this is very suspicious,' Garcia checked back in right on time.

'Rosa Cyrus, born and raised in Bakersfield, once married to a construction worker named Daniel Carter. Later she gave birth to one, oh uhm, little girl-' you shut your eyes at the mention of your name, '-and she went into labour once again... the only thing specified about the baby was the gender, it was a baby boy, no records after that, hospital records don't mention a name, date of birth is listed but it looks like at the time they didn't stay in long to mention details. It was like this boy didn't exist.' Garcia sympathetically continued on, you knew she would want to be there for you right now, 'She got a divorce 6 years after her son was born but from her contact history, it looks like Daniel and her never lost touch.'

'That sorry bitch.' You whispered, more so as an undertone, it was loud enough that Luke and Spencer looked up at you.

'Okay this is where things get weirder, she started frequenting the Turner house since the birth of Stephen. A camera feed shows that she was on the way to the Turner's house the day before he went missing.' She finished up.

'Yeah, I asked the neighbours across the street if they saw anything but they hadn't, they did hear a car leave the scene at roughly the same time Reid narrowed down the time he was taken.' Luke filled in. 'Roughly between 11:30 pm to 2 am, which was around the time Joy went to check in on Stephen. Based on the time they heard the car fleeing, he was missing at around 12:35 pm.' Emily gave a quick nod at Spencer's deduction.

'Thank you Garcia, any known whereabouts on Daniel?'

'Searching now and there, the last known location was the police—He was right there. Okay uhh, sending you his address and Rosa's current address, please catch these a-holes!'

'Oh that's a done deal. Garcia?'

'Yeah?'

'My little brother's name was Steven, please, don't forget.' That was a plea. A plea that she understood right away, one that also was directed to everyone in that very room.

The two of you might be at a distance but you could tell she smiled on the other end, 'I won't, sugar.'

With Garcia hanging up, now things have increased in pace, you have a name and a face to give to your unsub all that's left now is to find them and the boy.

'Tara, I need you to tell the chief to pull up an APB on Rosa and Daniel.' Emily handed out orders, and Tara was just as quick to respond, 'Luke and JJ, head over to Daniel's address, If he's there, bring him in and be careful, he is likely on alert since he visited the station. Rossi, Reid and I will be on our way to Rosa's, Cyrus—'

'I know, I'll stay here, I'm too close to the case now.'

'Yes but also, if Luke and JJ get back here with Daniel, he'll demand to see you, There's a chance he knows you're here and that might convince him to assume you would be on his side if he asks for you, you'll only meet him with Tara or Reid in the room with you, can you do that? I need you as level-headed as possible.' She looked you straight in the eyes, which caused you to pause for a good minute to assess all possibilities.

Would you be okay seeing someone you haven't in 20 years? Someone who pretty much played a part in your brother's disappearance?

You took that one minute to take a breath, record all scenarios and with a tight chest you gave Emily your response, 'Yes, if it will get him to talk, I'll play my cards like I always do.'

'Good, let's get moving then.'

You sat down on one of the chairs, watching your team leave the PD, getting armed and ready as they darted out but you didn't notice one more lingering figure. He was quiet but he didn't startle you again this time.

Spencer gave a single pat on the shoulder, but before he could leave the interaction, you placed a hand over his and held on to him. Though the touch startled him, from his gatherings, he noticed that you didn't look at him, you hung your head low but latched on to his fingers in a desperate attempt to feel comfort. Your bad dream suddenly seems to stray from your head and bend the strings of reality, nestling in unrest you didn't want to feel again.

You let out a quiet sniffle, with a daft smile you let go of the hand that brought you safety. 'Go.'

Moreover, he did. The fading figure of your colleague and now close friend, caused you to huddle into yourself.

You're going to be okay. A silent notion of sanity.

---------------------------

'Hey, got you something to eat.' Tara walked into the room and sat next to you, she carefully placed a package of Choux Pastry before you. Eyes darted to indicate a grateful gesture was about to be appreciated. Tara required no words for the way you'd carefully taken out the plate, digging in right away to know that this was the little thing that might keep you going, thank yous fell out of your mouth after a good bite. 'Take your time and eat it though, can't have a good agent choking on a choux pastry on a Tuesday.' She chided.

'So no dying on Tuesdays, duly noted doc.' A light breathy laugh left you. It was the small things, nobody asked or pleaded for an offer of gold to feel better about themselves, if anyone knew that, it was everyone at the BAU. 'We're all here if you need us, okay?' Her voice said it all, that was enough. 'I know, it's why I'm still here.'

Silence had fallen in the room, it wasn't heavy, not at all, but that didn't make Tara's fumbling with case files any quieter. 'You can ask me, you know?' You broke the silence, and the rustling of papers stopped.

'What?'

'I know you want to ask me something so go ahead, don't believe I have anything to hide...at this point anyway.'

She sighed and rose from her chair, 'I just, okay, she waited exactly 6 years to take Stephen, she named him, tried to intervene and raise him like he was her own. She named him after her—your brother, who no one knew existed. Clearly she's reliving an event. So, why Steven? What happened to him?' she began, 'She couldn't have simply waited for another child to be born in the right circumstances, there has to be another boy, that no one knows about who's missing, or maybe a person, an adult who would match Steven's description? This woman needs a trigger to have to wait to do something like this.'

'So you're saying, there's a chance Grace is a...serial killer?'

'She would know how to take care of the bodies, a place or method she knows well enough so that nothing odd would ever turn up.' Tara walked over to the pile of missing persons reports, looking through them with brows crossed. 'Wait, I think there was one case, a 16-year-old boy. He looked exactly how I'd imagine Steven to, check case number 000612-M5-034.' You got up from the chair, standing right by Tara with arms crossed. 'Okay, let's see, Conrad Miller, 16 years old, went missing on June 12th, 2007. Last seen by the local church with one of the volunteers, she was questioned once but was never linked as she had a solid alibi, her name was Grace Cyrus.'

Part 2