#Whoo first post

[messrmoonyy]

- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold. 

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place. 

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid. 

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party. 

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more. 

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery. 

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “ 

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back. 

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl. 

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress. 

Always the gentleman. 

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too. 

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued. 

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “ 

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “ 

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you. 

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly. 

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did 

“ distinguished my ass “ 

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways. 

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow. 

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like. 

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates 

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over. 

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire. 

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course. 

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “ 

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear. 

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment. 

“ that’s my girl “ 

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had. 

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money. 

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham. 

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on. 

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over. 

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you. 

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats. 

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again. 

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t. 

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices. 

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night. 

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it. 

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates. 

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod 

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you. 

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs. 

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party. 

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be. 

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy. 

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people. 

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them. 

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help. 

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days. 

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering. 

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one. 

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest. 

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished. 

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds. 

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house. 

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other. 

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition. 

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about. 

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you. 

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice. 

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels. 

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming. 

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed. 

“ good girl “ 

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had. 

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them. 

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little. 

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “ 

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head. 

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused. 

“ yeah? About what? “ 

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “ 

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head 

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again. 

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair 

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “ 

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you. 

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were. 

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you. 

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth. 

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face. 

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you. 

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face 

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband. 

He’d ask you one day. 

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return. 

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.  

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again. 

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain. 

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.  

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt. 

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch 

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan. 

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “ 

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music. 

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house. 

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along. 

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters. 

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that. 

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist. 

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “ 

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “ 

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head. 

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “ 

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons. 

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “ 

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck 

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “ 

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening. 

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “ 

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins. 

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel. 

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp. 

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room. 

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him. 

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him. 

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist. 

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away. 

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head. 

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location. 

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well. 

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking. 

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy. 

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on. 

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him. 

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs. 

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine. 

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm. 

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“ 

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure. 

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him. 

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit. 

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper. 

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already. 

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings. 

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle. 

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too. 

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted. 

And wouldn’t that be a tale. 

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants. 

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt. 

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins. 

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin. 

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too. 

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too. 

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch. 

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could. 

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches. 

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard. 

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you. 

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice. 

“ y’think so? “ 

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too. 

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him. 

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath. 

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him. 

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired. 

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait. 

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did. 

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing. 

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “ 

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall. 

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush. 

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “ 

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you” 

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless. 

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect. 

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer. 

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter. 

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock. 

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up. 

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days. 

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose. 

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed. 

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself. 

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure. 

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it. 

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek 

“ mhm sure “ 

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too 

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[virune]

sup!!!

[andrew-rannells-mustache]

Not a single brain cell in the mutineer polycule (Goodsir doesn’t count)

Bonus:

[theomencometh]

Anthony's Realization

Fandom: Smosh Pairing: Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla, Anthony Padilla & Dan Howell, implied phan Rating: T Key Tags: Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers Word Count: 5,275 Read on AO3

Summary:

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths. The second thing that he does is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

When Anthony’s realization finally hits him, the first thing that he does is take three slow, deep breaths.  He closes his eyes, inhales, and tells himself that it isn’t a big deal.  And it truly isn’t, not really.  The thing about this realization is that it's not a surprise.  He may not have been aware enough to name what was happening, but by the time he becomes conscious of his feelings, he’s been living with them for long enough that it’s a natural part of him, nothing to be done.  He doesn’t want to fight it, it’s silly to deny it, and there are definitely worse fates in the world.  Still, it’s a huge fucking realization to have, and he takes a second to re-center himself in the middle of the office so he doesn’t do something stupid, like have a panic attack or grab Ian by the lapels of his jacket or start laughing hysterically.

The second thing that he does when he finally has his realization is figure out when his next therapy appointment is, decide it’s too far away, and pull out his phone to text an expert.

There’s no way that he can talk about this with anyone he works with.  Not only are there sometimes complicated boundaries with him being one of the owners, but if this got leaked it would spread around Smosh like wildfire, and he’s absolutely not ready for that.  In that instance, might as well stay away from everyone in the general LA area, just in case it manages to get back to anyone on staff.  Actually, there are too many people who know Smosh members in the entire country, so it’s best to discard everyone in the United States–no, everyone in all of North America entirely.

The answer is obvious.  There’s one other person who is uniquely positioned to understand what he’s going through and who would be willing to talk him through it, and that person doesn’t live in the country and talks more to him than anyone else at Smosh.

Anthony: hey, any chance you’re free to chat soon? could use your advice. nothing bad

He only has to wait a few seconds, which is impressive, because he didn’t consider calculating the time difference before he texted.

Dan Howell (youtube): oh hell

you’re not dying right

30 minutes sound good?

Anthony: no death, 30 min is good. Ttyl

Anthony grabs his jacket and heads out the door, calling a very general goodbye to the office at large so no one thinks he has just been burdened with self-knowledge that he will be obsessing over for the foreseeable future.

Anthony makes it home with no memory of the drive.  He barely has time to kick off his shoes and settle on the couch before Dan’s call comes through.  It’s a video call, but Anthony is still met by a dark screen, only half of Dan’s face illuminated with white light.  He’s probably in his room in the dark even though he’s wide awake, which feels so quintessentially Dan that it eases Anthony a little.

“Hey, thanks for calling,” Anthony says.  Dan squints at him suspiciously from the tiny phone screen.

“Of course,” he replies.  “Not every day I get to talk to my good friend Anthony Padilla.”

Anthony rolls his eyes, because Dan has been busier than him lately and they do send each other memes and funny messages sometimes.  It’s not like they’ve had no contact in the past few months.

“What’s up?” Dan asks, steamrolling past any reply Anthony might come up with.  Anthony likes that about him.  It may be hard to lock Dan into a genuine conversation when he doesn’t want one, but once he’s there he has single-minded focus and doesn’t let Anthony beat around the bush or procrastinate.  Anthony would be almost offended that it seems like Dan wants to get it over with if it wasn’t for the fact that small talk right now would be excruciating.

“I’ve, uh, had a bit of a realization recently, and I don’t really want to talk to anyone in the office about it.”

Dan levels him with a flat look.

“Are you fucking in love with Ian?”

Anthony groans, leaning back against his couch and giving himself a moment to cover his face.

He didn’t expect Dan to clock him so easily.  Can everyone tell?  Was Anthony himself the last person to know?  Does he have a flashing neon sign saying IN LOVE WITH IAN HECOX hanging above his head?

“How the fuck did you know?” he asks incredulously.  Dan laughs at him, loud and bright.

“Because if it wasn’t about Ian, you’d be talking through whatever it is with him as part of your “healthy communication” pact, and my largest skill set is navigating how to be a gay youtuber in love with your best friend and business partner. Also, I’m probably the closest gay person you know who isn’t associated with your company.”

Anthony laughs.

“Is it really that obvious?” he asks.  Dan shrugs.

“I know what I’m about,” he replies.  “Now, is it the gayness that’s a crisis or the Ian-ness that’s a crisis?”

“Ian-ness,” he responds immediately.  “Wait, actually…”

Dan waits while Anthony takes a moment, because that’s not right, not really.

He isn’t worried about his sexuality.  He came to the conclusion a few years ago that he would keep himself open to other possibilities, and he’s always been able to appreciate other guys.  The fact that Ian has a dick isn’t a problem.  Sure, he hasn’t felt particularly motivated to give someone a blowjob before, but he’s not bothered by the idea at all.  He’d like to have the chance, frankly, even if he’s bad at it and needs to practice a bit, especially if Ian is the one he’s practicing with.  But the Ian of it all isn’t a crisis, either.

“It’s not–” he starts, then stops.  Dan hums encouragingly.  “It’s not a crisis, really?  It’s Ian, you know?  This is probably the best case scenario for my first time falling in love with a man.”

“Fair,” Dan says.  “So what do you need me for, then?”

Anthony snorts.

“If I didn’t talk this through with someone, I’d probably end up blurting it out in a meeting tomorrow in front of everyone.”

Dan hums.

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the most professional moment, even for you,” he says.  “I take it this means you’re down bad.”

“Oh yeah,” Anthony confirms.  “Hit me like a truck.  Nothing even prompted it!  I was wrapping up for the day and wondering if I should ask Ian to grab dinner like usual and the idea made me so happy I thought something was wrong.”

“That’s fucking gay, Anthony,” Dan says.

“I know!” he groans.  “That was the problem, because that’s how I feel about him all the time.  This is how I’ve felt for months, and I’m just now realizing.  What the fuck?  How does that happen?”

“You were too caught up in the euphoria of being around him again to tell it was a proper crush.  Like a frog in boiling water,” Dan says, nodding sagely.  Anthony mirrors him, grateful that he doesn’t need to elaborate further.  Reuniting with Ian felt like finding a part of himself that had been missing since before he left Smosh.  He had no way of knowing that the rush he felt every time they hung out or the elation when he managed to say something that made Ian laugh was a symptom of something bigger.  It felt like it used to, except better because they���d both grown as people and weren’t emotionally stunted children anymore.  He didn’t realize that love had anything to do with it, at least not romantic love.  Then, once they’d stabilized properly, they bought Smosh and he had more things to distract himself with.  He loved being around Ian, he loved being at Smosh, he loved the fact that he could have both when he had missed them for years.  He didn’t feel the need to examine things closer than that.

“What am I supposed to do?” Anthony asks.  Dan snorts.

“Don’t do what I did, which was stalk the other person to the point where we were friends and then make him do all the romantic heavy lifting,” he says.  “The way I see it, you can either repress it so hard it disappears and you’re miserable, or you tell him in a private moment that you both can escape if it goes badly.”

Anthony frowns.

“Will it go badly?”

Dan shrugs.

“You know Ian better than I do.  What do you think?”

Anthony makes himself stop and genuinely consider the question, rather than respond with knee-jerk fears or defensiveness.  There’s decades of history including their friendship completely unraveling to consider, and Anthony doesn’t think he’ll survive losing Ian a second time.  But Ian has never run away because Anthony wanted too much from him.  He might not respond the way that Anthony wants, and he might not give Anthony the same openness and vulnerability that Anthony would be giving him during a confession, but he can’t see this being the thing that pushes Ian away for good.  It might be awkward for a bit, but they’re both adults.  Anthony can figure out how to manage his feelings, and Ian historically has been great at ignoring elephants in rooms and pretending like things are fine.

“I think it’ll be okay,” he says slowly.  “If he doesn’t feel the same or is weirded out, I think we’ll be able to move past it.  He’ll probably make some bad jokes to deflect, but I don’t think he’ll hate me, or ask me to leave the company or anything.”

“You think he doesn’t feel the same?” Dan asks.  Anthony shrugs.

“Who knows, with Ian.  I know he loves me, but that’s different than being in love with me, and he was repressing the shit out of his emotions for a while there.  I don’t know.  It’s been–things have been really good with us, recently.  And I think he’s in the same place as me, with the sexuality thing.  But that doesn’t mean that he’s in the same place as me with his feelings, too.”

Dan hums.

Anthony tries to imagine Ian smiling at him in that new, soft way he sometimes does, saying something like “don’t be stupid, Anthony, of course I love you, too”.  His heart speeds up at just the thought, feeling like it’s about to skip out of his chest, and he slams that door shut immediately.  No use in getting his hopes up or catastrophizing, not before he knows the actual outcome.  Better not borrow the joy or anxiety of the future, right?

“When are you going to tell him?” Dan asks.

“What happened to maybe repressing it and being miserable?”  Anthony replies.

Even though he can barely see anything from Dan’s side of the screen, he can see the look that Dan gives him.  At least it makes him snort.

“As your friend, I can’t in good conscience actually recommend that route to you,” Dan says.  “Especially because you’d be shit at it and would tell him anyway, but it’d probably be at the worst possible moment.”

Anthony can’t argue with that.  He’s not great at keeping things inside.  If he tries to repress this, it’ll bubble up before exploding, like a soda that’s been shaken then cracked open, spilling his feelings all over the place.

“I should probably tell him soon, then,” Anthony says.  Dan nods.

“Better to get it over with.  Rip off the bandaid.”

“Opposite of what you did.”

“Fuck off,” Dan says, voice high with indignation.  “I’ve been in a happy relationship for over a decade.  You asked me for help.”

“I did,” Anthony concedes.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dan says, smarmy and pompous in a way that makes Anthony laugh.

He directs the conversation away from his realization and toward normal topics, taking his time to catch up with Dan properly.  It’s good to talk to him, just like it always is.  As allergic as they are to phone calls, it’s nice to be able to chat in real time, rather than allowing text messages to get lost in a flurry of notifications.  More time has passed than Anthony realized when another notification pops up at the top of his screen.  He trails off mid-sentence when he sees who it’s from.

Ian: you ok? you left the office pret…

While he’s reading, another banner appears.

Ian: dinner?

“What’s up, what just happened?  Why are you ignoring me?” Dan asks.

“Sorry,” Anthony says, shaking his head to bring himself back to the moment.  “Ian just texted.  He wants to have dinner.”

“The thing that started it all,” Dan says ominously.  “Sounds like the perfect opportunity.”

Anthony feels a dash of panic surge through him before it fades, leaving the hint of a bitter aftertaste.

“Already?” he winces.

“Why, do you need to let things settle?” Dan asks.  “You seemed pretty secure with everything earlier.  Do you think your feelings are going to change?”

Anthony shakes his head immediately.

“I have never been more sure of my feelings,” he affirms.  “I’m in this for the long haul.”

Dan holds his hand up in a there you go gesture.

“Right,” Anthony says.  “Pulling off a bandaid.”

“Guess I’ll let you go get your man,” Dan sighs dramatically.  “Text me what happens.  Whether it’s a celebration or you want someone to listen to emo music and cry with you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony says earnestly.  Dan rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.  Welcome to the gay disaster club.  Have fun.”

“Thanks for having me,” Anthony laughs.  “Talk to you later.”

Dan says a quick goodbye and signs off with a wave, and Anthony navigates over to Ian’s messages before he can second-guess himself.

Ian Hecox: you ok? you left the office pretty quick today

dinner?

Anthony’s thumbs hover over the buttons, not wanting to lie to Ian, but also not wanting to confess his feelings over text.  If he says he wants to talk to Ian about something, Ian might think it’s worse than it is, and Anthony doesn’t want to turn this into a big deal for him if it doesn’t have to be, but if he ignores Ian’s initial question and just asks him to come over with takeout, he’ll still think something is wrong, and he’ll think that Anthony doesn’t want to talk about it with him and therefore it’s something terrible.

His phone buzzes with another notification.

Dan Howell (youtube): you better be replying to him and not PROCRASTINATING like a LOSER

Anthony sends him the middle finger emoji, but it’s the encouragement that he needs.

Anthony: had something on my mind i wanted to think through, nothing bad

wanna come over? bring thai pls

Ian’s reply comes in immediately.

Ian: be there in 20

Anthony locks his phone and sets it down, letting out a long breath.  He scrubs his hands over his face, then through his hair, blinking at the blank tv across from him while he tries to organize his thoughts.

He can’t sit here for 20 minutes spiraling until Ian gets here.  He wants to smoke to offset the nerves thrumming through him, but he doesn’t want to overdo it and lose his sense of urgency, then decide to put the confession off because of it.  He needs to tell Ian tonight.

“Like ripping off a bandaid,” he says aloud, slapping his thighs and standing.  He spots a candle and lights that, at least, then busies himself tidying up.  His home isn’t messy by any means, but rearranging things and breaking out the duster to run along his bookshelves gives him something to keep his hands busy while he repeats a mantra of affirmations in his mind, not allowing any room for the negative and anxious thoughts to permeate.

A sharp knock on his door breaks him out of his thoughts while he’s unloading the dishwasher, immediately followed by his door opening and Ian’s voice calling “Honey, I’m home!”

Anthony’s heart flutters.  If this continues, he’s going to need to see a cardiologist.

“In the kitchen!” he calls back.  “Want a drink?”

“Water for now,” Ian calls back, no doubt setting their take-out up on the coffee table in the living room.  “We’ll see about later.”

Anthony grabs two glasses for them and fills them from the filter in the fridge, adding ice for himself but none for Ian because he says it gets too cold for his teeth these days.  They’re getting older.  Anthony is grateful that he’s present to see it.

“I got you your usual,” Ian says, gesturing to the container while Anthony carefully sets the glass in front of him.  He changed since the office, dressing down in sweatpants and an older Smosh hoodie that they discontinued before Anthony left.  He looks tired and comfortable, like he belongs on Anthony’s couch shoveling rice into his mouth, and Anthony swallows around the lump in his throat.

Yeah, he needs to tell Ian tonight.  He can’t keep living like this.  Self-awareness is a gift, because you can’t change things if you don’t know there’s a problem, but Anthony wishes the problem wasn’t being in love with his best friend in a way that’s overwhelmingly impossible to ignore.

They don’t talk about anything important while they eat, just chatting casually about whatever crosses their minds, from a weird squirrel that Ian saw yesterday to an artist that Anthony found on Instagram and really likes.  It’s easy and comfortable, and Anthony finds himself relaxing with every little joke Ian says that makes him laugh.  Ian doesn’t try to be funny outside of work, but he naturally has Anthony in stitches more than anyone else he’s ever met.  Anthony has laughed more in the two years they’ve been reunited than he did in the entire six years they were apart.

Eventually, the laughter fades away, Ian setting his plastic fork down and leaning back against the cushions, wiggling a bit to get in the most comfortable position possible with a content sigh.  He’s such an old man that way, but Anthony is right there with him, knees cracking when he stretches out.

“So,” Ian says, lolling his head to the side so he can see Anthony fully. “What were you thinking so hard about earlier?”

Anthony sighs.  He crosses his arms, but he doesn’t like how that makes him feel like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office, so he rubs his hands against his jeans instead.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Ian offers.  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Anthony says before Ian can get the wrong idea.  “It’s not–I wanted to tell you, anyway.”

“Okay,” Ian says slowly.  Anthony takes a deep breath, then another one.

“I’m bi,” he blurts.

Not quite what he wanted to say, but baby steps.

“Officially,” he adds.  “I know we’ve kind of talked about it before, but I wasn’t really sure, and now I am.  I’m bisexual.  I like dudes, too.”

“Nice,” Ian says with a grin, leaning forward to give him a high five.  Anthony obediently slaps their palms together, and Ian’s fingers curl around Anthony’s hand, shaking him.  “Let’s go!  Solidarity!”

Anthony laughs, letting Ian break the tension like he usually does.  Their hands fall back against the couch, still clasped together, and part of the laughter dies in Anthony’s throat.

“Thanks for telling me, dude,” Ian says.  “I am, too, since we’re sharing sexualities.”

Ian’s thumb swipes over the back of Anthony’s hand and goosebumps erupt across his arms, thankfully hidden by his sweater.

“Cool,” he manages to say.  Ian smiles at him, open and joyful, and Anthony doesn’t know what emotion is playing across his face, but it makes Ian soften.

“Are you going to get emo on me?” he asks, light and teasing.  Anthony chuckles, but it comes out a little wet.

“I didn’t think I would,” he says honestly, blinking up at the ceiling and letting out a shaky breath.  Ian squeezes his hand, just a quick pressure and release, and Anthony returns it.  When he’s centered himself enough to look back at Ian, his best friend is still smiling at him.  It’s a smile that has no pretenses or expectations, just gentle acceptance.  He’s so much more open than Anthony ever expected him to be, even since they reconciled.  They both had to relearn how to read each other in these heavy moments, and Anthony now knows when Ian puts his walls up and why, and when he can give Anthony more of the vulnerability that he always craves.  Now, though, he doesn’t feel like Ian is hiding, despite the jokes and teasing.  He’s just here with Anthony, ready to take whatever confession he gives.

“That’s not all of it,” Anthony says.  Ian shifts, tucking a foot under him so he can face Anthony fully.  He still hasn’t let go of his hand, but Anthony doesn’t want to watch him do so later, so he does it himself, twisting one of his rings around to distract his hands from the sudden emptiness.

“I, uh,” he starts.  Ian’s steady focus on him is distracting, and it’s making his throat close up again.  He clears it, an incongruous sound in the otherwise quiet space.

“I realized I have feelings for someone,” he finally brings himself to say. Ian’s expression doesn’t change, maintaining a careful neutrality that Anthony is all too familiar with.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks eventually, when too much time has passed for Anthony to fill in the blanks.

“No,” Anthony says quickly.  “No, it’s not– I’m not upset about it.  It’s just… scary.  But I can handle it.”

Ian’s eyebrows twitch with an aborted frown.

Damn, he’s botching this.

“It’s– if I had to fall in love with anyone, it’s best that it’s him,” he tries to explain.  “He’s– this is the best case scenario.”

Ian does frown this time.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna let me down easy.”

Ian stares at him.  Anthony replays those words in his head and heat floods his face, everything burning.  He blinks a few times, but time doesn’t rewind and let him take those words back to tell Ian in a better way.  He’s always been shit at improv; he should’ve scripted this in those 20 minutes while Ian was grabbing them dinner and instead he’s making a mess of things.

“What,” Ian asks, no inflection.  Anthony opens his mouth, can’t get any actual words out, and closes it again.

“Deep breath, Anthony,” Ian commands.  Even though the inflection is still strangely empty, Anthony forces in a breath, then another one.

“Sorry,” he says.  Ian shakes his head.

“It’s fine.  But you need to use words, because I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now.”

Anthony gestures helplessly.

“I love you?” he says.  “In a gay way?”

Ian nods slowly.  Anthony wants the ground to open up and swallow him.  Maybe he can go stay with Dan and Phil for a few weeks or forever, since Dan’s advice got him in this situation in the first place, except he knows that he’s being irrational and everything should be fine once it stops sucking so bad.

He should’ve done this at Ian’s house so he could run away, rather than having Ian come to him and having to kick him out.

“You think I’m going to let you down easy?” Ian asks.  Anthony laughs, a high pitched, hysteric noise that he immediately hates and never wants to make again.

“Are you really going to be mean to me about it?” he asks.  His pulse is racing.  He’s going to die.  He’s actually going to die from confessing his gay love for his best friend.  This is pathetic.  This is terrible.  He’s almost 40 years old and it feels like he’s 15 and getting rejected for the first time, except worse.  Dan owes him so many drinks.

“Anthony,” Ian says, reaching towards him.  Anthony isn’t fast enough to lean away, and Ian’s hands cup his jaw, curling around his neck and threading through his hair to keep him in place.

“Stop freaking out,” he says, thumb swiping across Anthony’s jaw.  “Don’t be stupid.”

Anthony can’t even begin to formulate a response, because Ian leans forward and kisses him.  His brain completely short circuits at the gentle contact, even though it only lasts for a second before Ian is leaning back, carefully eyeing him.

“Huh?” he says.  Ian cracks a smile.

“I love you, too, you idiot.”

All of the tension leaves Anthony in a rush that makes him dizzy.  It’s a good thing that Ian is still holding him, hands anchoring him in the present while Ian gives him that new smile, the one that makes Anthony feel like Ian doesn’t want to be anywhere else if Anthony isn’t with him.

“Huh?” he asks again.  Ian chuckles, but it isn’t malicious, and Anthony smiles with him.

“Dude, did you really not know?” Ian asks.  “Courtney staged an intervention for me weeks ago.  Apparently she and Shayne have been making little bets since you came back.”

“Since I came back?” Anthony asks.  “No way.”

“They were delusional,” Ian agrees.  “I was not in touch with my feelings enough at that point.  I was just happy to have my best friend back.”

“And now?” Anthony asks.  Ian grins.

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.  What happened to you being in tune with your mind and spirit, bro?  Why’d it take you so long to get here?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Anthony laughs, hands coming up to circle Ian’s wrists.  “I’ve never fallen in love with my best friend before.  I thought it was just you.”

Ian snorts, ducking his head and finally letting his hands fall from Anthony’s face, tangling their fingers together instead.

“That’s so fucking cheesy,” he says, but he sounds pleased.  Anthony flushes.

“We’re basically a friends to lovers fanfiction, Ian.  This was always going to be cheesy.”

Ian rolls his eyes.  When he looks at Anthony again, it’s through his lashes with a fond smile, like he’s taking pages out of Seduction 101.  Anthony is actually embarrassed at how well it works on him, face heating and breath catching.  His eyes wander down to Ian’s lips, and he forces them back to his eyes in a panic before he remembers that he’s allowed to do that.  Ian made that clear.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.  “I wasn’t ready when you did it.”

“I don’t know, can you?” Ian replies automatically, then grimaces.  Anthony gives him a look, even if Ian’s immediate regret is clear.  At least they’re on the same page there.

“Yes,” Ian corrects.  “Actually, if you don’t I’m going to be upset.”

That’s all the encouragement that Anthony needs to lean in.  He takes his time, letting their noses brush and settling his hands on Ian’s waist before Ian gets impatient and closes the gap.  It feels entirely different than their first kiss.  Anthony goes into it with intention, pressing as close as he can without Ian's glasses getting in the way, and Ian responds in kind, hands snaking over Anthony's shoulders.  The scratch of Ian's stubble against his mouth sends shivers down his spine, much more addictive than Anthony would've guessed, and he fists Ian's hoodie tighter in response, shifting to try to get even closer.  Ian breaks the kiss before Anthony is ready, but all he does is take off his glasses and dive right back in, matching Anthony step for step.

Being this close is causing Anthony's head to spin, each change in angle and point of contact simultaneously making every nerve in him stand at attention and glaze over.  He can smell Ian's aftershave under the leftover Thai food and burned down remnants of the candle permeating through the living room, and Ian's hands feel incredibly warm through his sweater, even more so when one of them slides up his neck to dig into his hair.  The gentle scratch of nails against his scalp pulls the start of a whine out of his throat unbidden, and Ian immediately deepens the kiss, coaxing Anthony to open his mouth with a brush of his tongue.

Anthony wants to keep kissing him all night.  He could stay kissing him for the rest of his life and be perfectly happy, whether he keels over in a few minutes or a few decades.  This is their first time kissing with intent, the first time where it actually means something, but there's something so familiar about it anyway, the easy way that they move together and around each other, the compatible pressure and comfortable motions.  He pulls at Ian again, wanting to get even closer, and Ian shifts without breaking contact, pushing Anthony back against the arm of the couch and following him down.  It puts their bodies flush together, and Anthony wraps his arms around Ian's back, pinning him there, a warm line along his front.

A vibration in his pocket startles him enough that he breaks the kiss, blinking up at Ian in surprise.  He's haloed by the overhead light, mouth red and cheeks flushed, and he has never looked more beautiful.

"What's wrong?" he asks.  Anthony blinks at him, processing.

The phone in his back pocket vibrates again, loud enough that Anthony can hear it now that he's not distracted.  He forces one of his hands to release Ian's sweatshirt, lifting his hips to access the pocket and inhaling sharply when the motion makes him brush against Ian.

"Anthony..." Ian says, voice thick.  Anthony's phone vibrates again in his hand, drawing Ian's attention to it.  He sits back on his heels, finally giving Anthony room to catch a full breath.

Dan Howell (youtube): how are things?  have you told him yet?

celebration or crying

maybe silence is a good sign??

“Who is it?” Ian asks, tugging on the bottom of his hoodie.

“Dan,” Anthony says.  Then, for clarification, “Howell.  I called him earlier.  He wants to know how the love confession went.”

Ian plucks the phone from his hand in the middle of typing his reply.

“Hey,” Anthony protests halfheartedly while Ian swipes to the camera app.  Any additional bitching dies in his throat when Ian presses his lips to the corner of Anthony’s mouth, taking a selfie at the exact moment.

It isn’t the best picture.  They’re off-center and Anthony’s face equal parts enamored and very clearly caught off-guard, but Anthony doesn’t protest while Ian attaches the picture to Anthony’s message thread with Dan and sends it.  He locks the phone and discards it off to the side, something that Anthony is very okay with once Ian turns his full attention back to him.

“I know we need to talk about this soon, but I kinda want to save that conversation for later tonight and go back to making out right now,” Ian states.

“I’m fine with that,” Anthony says, already reaching for him.  He kisses Ian’s grin off his face.

Somewhere on Anthony’s coffee table, nestled among empty takeout containers and a stack of napkins, Anthony’s phone buzzes again.  Neither of them hear it.  When Anthony finally checks his phone the next morning, he’ll have a litany of text messages, equal parts sincerely happy and playfully disgusted.  For now, he’s more than satisfied to kiss Ian silly, everything else fading away until the world consists of just the two of them.

[cobbnonthejobbn]

HOLY II YAP SESSION

——-

I liked the ending to ii (the contestants killing cobs, mephone getting to meet 3GS on slightly better terms and cobs getting to be unapologetically evil)

But one thing I’ll never forget is “I,I” it was such whiplash for me and it’s not like I wasn’t expecting a really lighthearted ending to the show but it felt like they didn’t really let the characters breathe (at least that’s how I felt)

Because so many characters died (mepad,cobs and knife sorta) and the characters talk about it for like a hot second before they all go off and sing a song about their adventures

Like we see mepad’s closest friends upset about his death like taco cried and had a light verse (I mean rlly light all we get is a png of them during it) about him in “I,I” and mephone and toilet had a line or two about how kind mepad was but. Like that’s it. Mephone says how much mepad cared about the contestants but we don’t really get his personal opinion of mepad or his death.

Mr cobs fucking explodes and mephone, (the person he literally abused for years) has barely anything to say about it. They all literally kill a man and then just act like it didn’t even happen. Like I get the contestants don’t have a connection to cobs that would make them care but mephone literally doesn’t give a shit for some reason. He doesn’t talk about feeling conflicted about cob’s death or even that he feels free of him, he doesn’t really bring up his own feelings about anyone’s death

Now don’t get me wrong I loved the ending and I’m glad we got the one we did but they didn’t really touch on anything besides some surface level interactions of feeling upset or liberated

Like again. They all sing a song about not letting the show define them as people and we don’t even get anything more then a single line from marshmallow about mepad. It just feels like they realized that they threw all that death and angst at us and were quick to shove everything to the side so they could get some feel good content in there.

Also my goat 3GS didn’t even get the meet the others or talk to knife and suitcase again so that sucks. I really do wish that we at least got an interaction between suitcase and 3GS because we very rarely (outside of 4s) see the contestants interact with anyone from meeple besides mephone (even mepad very rarely has one on one conversations with the contestants)

[lavenoon]

@naffeclipse have a bloodstained fool in his natural habitat <3

og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Hiiiiiii! Today is my birthday!! 💖

I would like to ask for something this year, something silly goofy if you would like to participate, which is that I would love to see some drawings of cowtrick or cows in general UwU 🐮🐄💖

They do not need to be skilled, they can be cute or messy or anything you want! But I would love to see some art from y'all 💕

[peacockrulz]

Merry Christmas!

Its July

[jaysrune]

* where will you wear your heart?

[LET IT DICTATE MY EVERY MOVE] [CARRY IT WITH ME]

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday - Chapter 5 of The Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher

“Oh, hells forfend, what could you possibly— Oh! Billy!”

Bill keeps his hands jammed against the outer ring of the summoning circle as he glares at Copernicus.

“Sweet Moses! Don’t ’Oh! Billy!’ me, where in the hells have you been?!”

Copernicus has the decency to look a little sheepish as he brings his hands to his center.

“I told you, I’ve been busy.”

“Well, I’ve been…” Oh, how does Bill even begin to describe this? These past few weeks and suddenly he feels things for these humans, feels an affection for this world.

“Look, I’m calling all of this off.”

Copernicus lets out an aborted laugh.

“What do you mean you’re ‘calling it off’?”

“What I just said. I just—“ Bill wants to touch his face, but he needs his hands down on the summoning circle to continue this conversation with Copernicus. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to destroy this realm or take over the universe or—“

“You’ve gone soft.” It’s accusatory and Bill winces.

“I’m saying that maybe it’s not worth it.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no! You grew to care about these humans and now you want out!”

The thing is that Bill can’t even refute that argument because that is exactly the reason, isn’t it? The twins are cute and charming, or whatever, and Ford’s… Ford and he likes Stan and Question Mark and Melody and—

“You’re not using me anymore. I quit.”

Silence meets his words before a slow, steady laugh erupts from Copernicus’ body. It gets louder and louder until he’s cackling. His eyes are narrowed and Bill imagines that there’s sharp teeth in a smile that doesn’t show.

“Billy, you don’t get a say in this. You never got a say in this.”

All the blood in Bill’s body runs cold, fingers curling against the dirt in the circle.

“What do you—?”

“Billy, you don’t think I didn’t think of a contingency if you suddenly grew a conscience, did you? I worked too hard for you to back out of this on a whim.”

Bill flashes his teeth like an animal.

“I’m not letting you use my body, use my brain anymore!”

“Oh… Oh, Billy, do you think it’s really that easy?” Copernicus floats closer, gripping Bill’s jaw. “Do you think you can just bail on me without consequence? We made a deal, darling, you’re mine until I decide you’re not.”

Bill rips his head with away with a growl, eyes narrowed on Copernicus.

“You’re out of your mind!”

“To be completely fair, I’m in your mind and, besides, you’re out of your depth, Cipher!” Copernicus pulls away, arms thrown wide. Suddenly, his form starts to warp. Black and inky, it ripples and twists until it’s an amorphous purple blob, three pairs of arms sticking out of the shape with dozens of eyes split across it.

“Gods know how long I kept that form to please you, but if we’re playing this game now, there’s no reason. I was hoping you’d play nice, but it can’t be helped. If what you really want is out, then you’ve got another thing coming. You’re mine and, if you won’t work with me, you’ll be my bait. You’ve already played so well for so long, you only need to do it for awhile longer.”

Bill rears back and almost breaks his grip on the circle before leaning forward again.

“What do you mean?!”

“Oh… Oh, are you really that stupid after all of this time? Thirty-five millions years and you lost all your common sense. Darling, this was never about you. I used you, you have to know that.” He puts a hand to what might be his cheek, it’s a little hard to tell in this form, but that patronization is still evident.

“You were so easy, a few flattering words and you came crawling to me. Was it that way too with your little genius? I told you we could rule the world, that I would help you, and you just crumbled. It’s no matter now, even if you want to back out, you can’t get me out of your head. You’re stuck with me and if you close your eyes, your body is mine. I’ve already have so much fun with it, it’s just a shame that you woke up too soon before I could do anything.”

[penofwildfire]

Lloyd has some... complicated feelings about his baby sister

[blankcassette]

Agent 4 love

[outsideyourhousewithaknife]

I wish in addition to top posts tumblr had a feature with worst posts. Like, yeah, here's this person's successes, but I wanna see their failures, their earliest posts, the stuff most people didnt care about but that they liked well enough to keep up.

[asterdeer]

ngl, y'all, the reactions i got on the book pitch had me. uhhhhhhhhhhhh. Emotional

[starsmuserainbow]

I posted this on my blog before it became a Multi, but here's a repost because I plan to do that (slowly, over time) with all things.

Below the cut, you’ll find a rough summary of what I set for myself as Starfire’s (and Blackfire’s) background story, and maybe a few points here and there that I know of the comic-origin and why I’m not taking certain things into my version.

One: Their mother died shortly after Wildfire was sent away/presumed dead. The TTGo!-comics (the ones following the cartoon) said that both parents fell ill from heartbreak after Blackfire negotiated with the Gordanians and made Star become a slave, but that’s not how I see it. I also have no idea what the ‘other’ comics say about this, so I just made my own decision for that. The parents both suffered from grief, after Wildfire was sent away and presumably killed (not after Starfire left, this happened way earlier). The father recovered (enough to stay alive) whereas the mother actually died to the heartbreak.

Two: Galfore took care of them almost all the time after their mother died. Their father was too busy now, both with his duties as ruler and with trying to not give in to too much grief about the loss of his wife (and son). Galfore had been a prominent part in their education and protection before this already - though Blackfire never really listened to him at all - but after the death of the mother, he spent even more time with the two princesses, though his attempts at getting through to Blackfire were still in vain. Again, no idea how the other comics say this (I don't think Galfore even exists outside of the cartoon and the comics that follow it?), but it’s what I chose.

Three: Starfire decided to leave Tamaran on her own. She wasn’t taken as slave from the planet, but she left it on her own accord, with the intention of exploring different worlds. She wanted to see more of the planets, learn about all those different beings and cultures out there, and she knew that it wouldn’t be possible with guards always at her side or when she would have become ruler. Both Galfore and her father didn’t want her to leave for such a journey and without any protection, but in Blackfire she found a reassuring voice. The problem I have with the comic story of ‘she was taken as slave so that the Gordanians would leave the planet’ is basically based on Betrothed: The future of the planet was at stake, and Starfire agreed to the arranged marriage without further discussion once she knew of the consequences that refusing would have. She was willing to do what’s best for Tamaran, without considering much how she herself felt. She wouldn’t be fighting against capture and escaping her captors if it happened through a deal like that, or at least not immediately. Maybe after years or so, once she felt like it was long enough for the deal to end or when she couldn’t endure it anymore, yes, but not right away only as she was first taken. It would put much too high of a risk to Tamaran if she did; because the Gordanians might just as well have simply returned to Tamaran and continued with the war if she refused to be their slave.

Which leads me to four: When Starfire came to earth, she hadn’t been a slave yet. Yes, she was captured by the Gordanians, and I’ll explain the reason and how it happened later, and yes, she was intended to be their prize and slave.  But she had not experienced any slavery yet. She was still wearing perfectly fine tamaranean clothes, and armor. Now, if she would have already had experienced years (or even only months) as slave before this, I’m pretty certain her clothes would’ve suffered through it. And I’m even more certain that the Gordanians would take any armor, any protection against their new masters away from new slaves as soon as they could, so that they would understand their place better. I also think they wouldn’t have allowed her to keep her clothes, to take away all that reminded her of where she actually belonged. Starfire was intended as a slave, but her escape happened during the transport and thanks to the Titans she managed to not become the slave of the Gordanians in the first place.

Five: The reason behind the capture of Starfire The war between tamaraneans and gordanians was still going on, even when Starfire decided to leave the planet for exploring. But she had told Blackfire about her plan before doing it, and the black-haired princess used the night in which her sister decided to disappear for her own plans. She quietly guided a Gordanian through the castle, into the room of the ruler. When the morning began, the tamaraneans found their ruler dead, and the one that was supposed to become the new ruler was nowhere to be found either. So, as the only remaining family member, Blackfire became the ruler. And she immediately called for a truce in the war with the Gordanians, but instead of them winning control over the planet, she called for a rule that allowed the winner of a war to capture any and all inhabitants of the planet that wouldn’t stick to it during the next weeks as their prizes, and slaves. Starfire was probably the first tamaranean they caught, as if some of the Gordanians had already known of the plans of the black-haired now empress before already. They also told Starfire of the death of her father, because they needed to explain that the rule of capturing prizes had been activated. This rule did not forbid escaping from the captors though, so that’s why Starfire did all she could to try and escape. Which she eventually did, and then she headed to the closest planet to find a way to get rid of her handcuffs. This planet just happened to be earth.

Six: After the death of the previous ruler, Blackfire kept being seen as the new ruler. This is, in a way, already explained in the previous point, and I won’t repeat the information here. But I wanna summarize how the rule of Tamaran continued after Starfire’s escape to earth. Blackfire heard that Starfire hadn’t ended up in captivity/slavery, and that gave her enough anger in her subconsciousness that she couldn’t enjoy having what she had always wanted. Instead, she left Tamaran without informing anyone, to go to earth, after her sister, but she took a few detours on the way, both for fun and for the new plan she made. Once Blackfire had left, Tamaran once again stood without a ruler. But since it wasn’t possible to say just what happened to Blackfire, there was no new ruler chosen. Instead, a group of people gathered (heads of certain parts of the government), and they lead Tamaran all together. It was a very unusual form of reign over Tamaran, and it didn’t really lead to much since they rarely ever came to agreements about things, but they did what they could, always expecting that Blackfire might return someday. And she did. After failing to send her sister to prison and ending up in it herself, Blackfire didn’t stay there for long. She broke out soon, and headed back to Tamaran to try and get over the thought that Starfire was happy. She couldn’t though, and that’s why she then arranged the marriage. As for what happened after the marriage failed, it should be obvious when you have seen the episode ‘Betrothed’. Galfore became the new ruler, and is it still.

----

This should be mostly all about it, I’m sorry that this got long but I wanted to try and explain my thoughts to it. If you’re actually reading down here, I thank you a lot for taking the time to go through this! I can work with the comic origin if someone prefers that or doesn’t read my headcanons for stuff, but it means a lot when people actually consider my things.