#titus in frustration

[caparrucia]

Cor and Titus' first meeting

Titus meets Cor on the seventh month of Regis' reign - which is already six months longer than Titus initially assumed Regis' reign would last, considering Regis came to pacify the writhing madness left in his father's wake, supported by the erstwhile enemy of a couple hundred years. It shouldn't have worked, but Regis made it work. He had the charisma and the sheer presence to make it work. His silver tongue and his unflinching pragmatism made quick work of the opposition and, reluctant more than anything, they folded under his rule. Titus had seen them tear each other to shreds in the days after Mors' death. Titus had given up any hope of sanity remaining in the greedy vultures scavenging the kingdom for what little remain useful in it.

And yet, there was Regis at the center, commanding loyalty and respect, without magic or his heirloom crystal or a divine decree. Reluctant, sure. Insincere in places, undoubtedly. But functional.

He was King by no greater power than his own - and his ability to seduce Niflheim to his side.

Titus' refusal to be impressed and accept him at face value was almost ground to nothing, resigned to live in the service of a King worth serving, but then, he met Cor.

Regis was due to promote the new Marshal of the Crownsguard, a title Titus was warily expecting to have to refuse, considering only he had seniority, among the survivors of Mors' last self-destructive spiral and the vicious purge that followed. Titus had been told no less than four times, that week, that people were expecting and anticipating his promotion. And then the night wore on, the speeches and the ceremonial bullshit, and when the time came, the name in Regis' mouth was Cor Leonis, not Titus Drautos, and the silence in the hall was heavy enough to crush bone as the newly minted Marshal walked up to kneel before the King and recite his vows so quietly no one but Regis heard them.

Titus was angry at the betrayal and angrier still that he considered it betrayal in the first place. It was not that he wanted the post and felt denied, either. He was better than that. He didn't want to be Marshal, and he would have declined, protocol be damned, if Regis had offered.

No, it was that Regis was supposed to be better.

Regis was supposed to be fair and smart and sly and cunning and better. He wasn't supposed to be seduced by a young, pretty face, because that was all Cor was - this became even more obvious, the more Titus tried to dig and find out who this mysterious, taciturn stranger was. Pale skin and pale eyes and no name and no history. He was a ghost, an empty husk of nothing of importance. Except every so often, the King would hold a grandiose ceremony, and summon his Marshal to bow before him and whisper his loyalty only to him, and then Cor would raise up, pretty face and all, holder of another impossibly important title.

It would be one thing, of course, if Cor did use his power - military and political and economic: he was master of the Crownsguard and landlord of Insomnia and keeper of who knew how many vows, he had power beyond compare - but he did not. He wasn't cunning or sly or terribly interesting, the way Regis was: Titus knew, he'd made an effort to approach the apparition more than once, to try and crack through his facade.

In the end, Titus was left with a bitter pill to swallow: Cor was a young - distressingly young, clean shaven and clearly not fully grown - vapid idiot that Regis kept around for reasons Titus refused to consider in depth, lest he abandoned his post in disgust. (But he couldn't, because he was doing good, he was making a difference, he was granted power of his own, to use at his own discretion, and unlike Cor, he knew the measure of his own worth.) And deep in his gut, with every new title, with every new secret smile shared between King and Marshal, with every new secret betrayal he couldn't quite define, Titus seethed and refused to acknowledge why.

[myfanfictiongarden]

Did I finish watching Rome? Yes.

Was it a good show? No.

Did it have things I liked? Absolutley.

How would I rate it?

Costumes, hairstyles, set design, historic feel: 9/10

Acting: 9/10

Writing: 4/10 (10/10 for everything related to Lucius and Titus, but 3/10 for all historic events)

[kalashtars]

why must disco elysium punish me for being thorough

[brucewaynehater101]

What if Tim was a meta with ability to erase and change people's memories (like Pudding from One Piece) and when he felt like he had to disappear he erased memories of himself from Batfam's minds??

Ye!

The batfam become confused af as well. They feel something is missing. There's a hole in their lives, but they can't tell what it is. They can't tell that their memories are missing because Tim erased the memory of the third Robin from everyone's minds.

Despite having no recollection of Tim (and despite him deleting all evidence that says contrary), everyone still feels his absence.

Alfred, for some reason he can't place, keeps setting an additional plate down for dinner. He finds himself buying Zesti flavors none of the Waynes like.

Jason feels an odd sort of grief when he notices his jacket is still draped over the back of the couch where he left it.

Bruce finds himself drowning in work despite the workload being the same as it always is. He goes to send his analysis of an interesting cold case but pauses at the contact name.

Cass knows, to the very being in her bones, that her family isn't whole. She just doesn't know why.

Duke finds himself dropping by Wayne Enterprises during his dayshift, but he doesn't know where he wants to go. He's also bothered by the window in the CEO office being locked how it's supposed to be.

Titus won't stop whining as he sits in front of a bedroom in the family wing that's always been empty.

For some reason, Barbara has every other Tuesday night completely empty. Despite her hectic schedule and her needing that time to get work done, she can't bring herself to fill it.

Damian is getting so frustrated every time he tries to paint. There's a face he keeps drawing, but it's blurry. He doesn't know who it is, and he doesn't know why it causes him to feel so much.

Steph cracks a smile when she sees a brick but doesn't know why. There's a plethora of inside jokes she knows but doesn't understand. None of the other Bats react to them either.

Dick stares at the photo of himself with his parents and two strangers. He thought his mourning had lessened over the years. He still feels it, but he usually remembers the good times when he looks at this picture. Now, it's as if he's feeling their loss anew. He's grieving, but somehow, he knows it's not about them. He doesn't know what else it could be.

[chaparro0456]

Damian coming back from the park complaining to Bruce

Bruce: Damian you can’t just yell at another kid at the park for an accident

Damian: Accident or not He hit Titus !

Bruce: With a rubber ball go back to the park and apologize

Damian: No I won’t that boy can go the heck for all I care

Bruce:Damian you can’t-

Tim: Proud of you I wouldn’t apologize to the kid either 

Damian thought for a moment and give a frustrated sigh and walked out to the park to apologize to the kid

Tim: Don’t i know my little brother

[15minlatewithbatbucks]

It's forty minutes into the latest state of the company press conference and Bruce has had to mute his mic entirely to avoid being turned into a meme AGAIN for sighing too much at his own event. For all that he's spent almost 20 years coaching his own children on not making scenes, he's really not much better. It's hot and he doesn't want to be here. His ribs hurt. He's tired. He's hungry. He's every excuse Dick or Jason have trotted out over the years.

(Tim understands company manners and can almost always be trusted to stick it out as long as he's allowed to vent his frustrations afterwards. He's recently taken to smashing ugly thrifted dishes. Stephanie and Damian have been collecting any ceramic not entirely pulverized and turning them into pavers for Alfred's garden.)

(Bruce gave up after Tim. He really only needs one kid to tag along to social events. If the kid start to outnumber him they start getting IDEAS.)

His distraction is why it takes two very rude repetitions of his name for him to take notice at the young reporter pushing his way to the front. Lucius stands, cutting off the project manager currently presenting and speaks into the mic.

"Please keep hold all questions until the end of the presentation, thank you."

"Mr. Wayne," the reporter tries again and Bruce waves away Lucius's further protests.

"Can I help you?" He asks, smiling with the full force of Brucie Wayne's charm behind it. It's been awhile since his last scandal, but if the press is inventing drama then it's less work for him.

The man holds up a photograph almost accusingly. He reeks of gotcha journalism.

Bruce squints towards him, unable to fully make out the contents of the photo. Dick may have been right when he gently suggested Bruce add glasses to his Brucie Wayne persona but that was a hill Bruce was still willing to die on. It was bad enough he had to have a prescription COWL.

"What do you have to say about the presence of your adopted son, Timothy Drake at the illegal mob in Robinson Park last Saturday?"

"Drake-Wayne," Bruce corrected because Tim hyphenated, damn it. He was the first of his children to let Bruce tag the Wayne name on and it mattered, damn it. "Wait do you mean-"

"How about reports of him kissing a man while there?"

"A blond man?" Bruce asked, finally giving up and crossing to take the photo for himself. "Oh. No, that's his boyfriend."

There was a beat of silence before Bruce realized his mistake. Just as the reporters began to squall, he dropped the blurry photo and began to speed walk off, phone suddenly in hand.

Through the podium's microphone, the gathered reporters heard one thing as Bruce evacuated the immediate vicinity.

"Tim? Don't be mad."

---

Despite Bruce's best efforts, he becomes a meme.

---

Immediately following the bombshell that Timothy Drake-Wayne had a boyfriend, social media blows up, clamoring for more information. They're ravenous for it, desperate. Tim doesn't have a personal social media presence but they stalk his professional accounts religiously. Bruce does have personal social media, but he maintains radio silence.

In the end, a Gotham based "influencer" stumbles across Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne getting donuts at Kosher Donuts and Co. Dick is personable, as always, and stops to speak with the young woman briefly.

"Yeah, Tim wasn't mad," he laughs when asked. "Just disappointed. But man, he knows how to milk it."

"Bruce is in the doghouse, huh?" she asks, full of false sympathy.

"A little bit," Dick says as Damian mumbles, "Titus would never share."

"But," Dick continued. "Tim's spun it so Bruce is on the hook for like, half a million in donations for local LGBT charities. Tim says it would hurt less if he sponsored a new shelter too, so that's something to look forward to."

"That's a lot of money! Where's it all going?"

"Oh you know," Dick says and gestures vaguely. "A lot of different programs."

"Yeah? Anything you personally want to see done with the funding?"

"Drag story time," Damian answers before Dick can. He looks intense. "But not for children. For dogs. In the shelter."

---

A day later, Tim breaks the silence. He goes live on Bruce's Instagram.

"So the problem was that Bruce thought the reporter was saying I was being unfaithful," Tim explains. "He totally forgot I wasn't out to everyone yet. Bruce was just worried because he's already told me if I break up with my boyfriend, he's not uninviting him from any future family events."

"Luckily, I was in fact just kissing my boyfriend at PRIDE. Just because people got shifty with the permits at the last second because of protestors doesn't make it an illegal mob. If you wanna hear about Wayne's and illegal mobs, talk to Dickie about his younger years. Nothing I do can compare."

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Madison: No way. Penny: Way. Madison: Oh my god, no wonder he’s so weird. Harry: His dad’s swimmers were probably pissed, like. Titus: Hurrr, where’s the egg again? Bianca: Ew. Madison: Hey, Robin! Can we borrow some of your dad’s liquor for the weekend?! Aster: Guys, c’mon. Madison: What? [various exaggerated glugging noises – laughter] Penny: Take the silence as a no then, Mutey?! Aster: That kinda stuff isn’t exactly funny-.. if it’s even true. Penny: It’s a joke, Aster.. lighten up. Levi: Yeah, what’re you.. the joke police? Aster: You’re just being tight for the sake of it at this point, give him a break. Madison: Booooo, you’re no fun today. Levi: Did you finally start your fucking period? Penny: Awhhh does Aster need a tampon? Titus: I bet Maddy’s got some extra wide ones. Madison: Oh my god-.. I DO NOT! [hysterical laughter] Madison: SHUT UP! … Mr Ashwood: Where are you off to? Lunch is almost over… [Robin ignored Mr Ashwood, whom he usually found quite benign, lest he burst into tears or unleash his boiling rage upon the poor, unsuspecting member of staff-.. he wasn’t the one that deserved it] Mr Ashwood: You can’t leave in the middle of the day-.. Robin! [Robin longed to say watch me, but his stupid mouth refused to cooperate with his stupid brain, leaving him no choice but to force the entirety of his frustration through his legs and into his pedals instead] Mr Ashwood: Don’t think I won’t call your parents, ‘cause I will!

[moodymisty]

Based off this post sorry I fucking HAD to

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Sicarius walking in on you and Guilliman

Why must all his men break protocol? Sicarius wonders if the Codex is merely kindling to them, if they are so willing to break the sacred rules so easily.

Titus, Uriel, and now new men of second company have decided to be a pain. He only hopes reporting this to Guilliman himself will prove to be enough of a threat to his men and whip them all back into shape; Both current and future troublemakers.

In his frustrations, so wrapped up in his own mind on how to deal with this consistent issue, he fails to do a proper knock at Guilliman’s door. Instead he simply walks in, slamming the controls with more force than needed.

Within moments he freezes, as a musky, heavy smell hits his nose and the full noises of the room echo in his ears without the soundproofing in the way.

“Roboute!”

You squeal, hands wrapped tight in the short crop of Guilliman’s thin blonde hair. Most of his head and face are obscured by your skirt- and thighs, which wrap around his head like a vice. The holotable is on but unused, symbols placed randomly from your accidental touches as you sit on the edge.

Sicarius stands frozen, unable to will his body to move as his ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of you and his primarch’s moans- accompanied by then odd, wet sounds of whatever his mouth was doing. What is only two seconds is plenty to him, given how fast his mind moves in comparison to a baseline.

He… was aware of all the basics of sex and reproduction, but the intricacies of pleasure beyond that were spotty at best. He had no need to delve into such useless things, unlike some other, less proper Astartes.

He was also unaware you could do such things with your mouth.

How beneath a primarch’s holy stature; Guilliman’s words have guided armies but now he’s on his knees in penance and using his tongue like its just a-

A loud scream rips through your throat as you spot him and sit up, and Sicarius’ two seconds of internal thought is interrupted as you see him frozen in the doorway with a hand still on the door’s controls.

Guilliman of course is instantly on the defensive hearing your scream, rising to his feet- and removing his hand from his trousers - before reaching for his blade.

Until he realizes it’s Sicarius.

Guilliman relaxes with an angry look on his face; Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before using the same hand spread flat outward to try and shield some of you from Sicarius, and reserve some of your modesty, while you adjust your clothes.

“Did your time in the warp remove your ability to announce yourself before entering, Captain Sicarius?”

Sicarius is angry at his primarch now, and has zero care for you behind him hot faced and attempting to cover yourself to some level of decency.

“I, I did not think it was needed, my primarch. I have an urgent issue that needs addressing.”

Guilliman angrily breaths through his nose, and Sicarius can see the veins in his neck.

“Go. Leave. Whatever you came here for I am sure it can wait until we both forget this encounter ever happened.”

They are both painfully aware that each other have eidetic memories, but they can only hope this moment somehow slips from their minds.

“Yes, my primarch.”

Sicarius finally manages to get his armor to move, and Guilliman sighs. Sicarius swiftly takes two steps backwards and closes the door, facing it at it closes.

He stands there for a moment, the image of his primarch on his knees between the legs of a simple baseline, and a hand doing something in his trousers is seared into his mind. Why is his primarch doing such things when there is work to be done?

“Are you alright Captain Sicarius?”

A marine says as he walks by, looking at his dead expression as Sicarius turns to face him. He points the door.

“Is Primarch Guilliman busy-“ Sicarius quickly speaks, cutting him off.

“Yes he is busy, do not disturb him.”

Sicarius has a far off stare that makes the random Astartes look at him oddly.

“I need to leave. Do not go in.”

Sicarius walks off, rubbing his hair with his gauntlet and grumbling to himself.

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐀

one / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you adjust to your new life as the Commander's healer, you're forced to watch her fall in love with someone else.

warning/s: mentions of injuries, violence, graphic deaths, the usual stuff that comes with writing for the 100.

author's note: second and final part is here! sorry it’s a little delayed, it’s been a busy one lately! pray i get out of my writing funk bc i miss it so much 😭 anyway, i hope you enjoy this one, i didn’t know how to end it, warning you now lol. Also any mentions of Costia are completely made up based off what i could remember, plus i tried to keep her appearance as vague as possible as she’s technically not got a face claim lol. Enjoy!!

Lexa fell into the role of Commander as if it were her birthright, which I suppose in a way it was.

Nothing fazed her, not the meeting on meeting that filled her days, or the responsibilities now weighing on her shoulders, or even the expectations everyone in the city had for her to be as great a Commander as the last one. She took it all in her stride, performing her duties the best she could. I couldn't have been prouder.

Working with her only made things better for us, since I wasn't sure I'd have seen her as much if I didn't. She was always busy, but she always made time for me. Though she had Titus to go to for guidance, she would still confide in me, a habit I was sure would be difficult to break. I, of course, offered all the help I could. Leading was important to her and she was important to me. What more was there?

It didn't make a difference to me, but clearly Titus thought more of it than I realised. It was a few months into Lexa's new role when he thought to bring it up to me. I was bringing a tray of mine and Lexa's dinner to her quarters one evening, the two of us having planned to eat together, when I saw Titus approaching me in the hall.

"Y/N," he acknowledged with a curt nod and narrowed eyes. "May I speak with you?"

"Right now?" I asked, lifting a brow and glancing at the tray in my hand.

"It won't be long," he assured me, barely giving me chance to reply before he continued, "It's about you and Lexa."

"What about us?"

He seemed mildly irritated as he spoke, "I know that you're a big part of her life, but in the past, you've happened to keep your distance. Now that she's Heda, I expect it to stay that way. No distractions."

I furrowed my brows with confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't follow..."

He tensed his jaw, lowering his voice. "I'm not blind, Y/N. I see the way you care for her."

"Yeah, she's my best friend," I remind him, though a small part of me was nervous at what he was implying.

He wasn't stupid, instead rolling his eyes at my response. "Be sure to keep it that way."

I swallowed hard. "That all?"

"That's all," he said with a hint of annoyance, before walking past me.

My fingers gripped the tray with frustration as I kept walking to Lexa's room. How could he know of my feelings for her? I kept them well hidden for many reasons. And even so, what did he expect from Lexa? To never fall in love? Be married to her work? That was preposterous.

Admittedly, his words had more of an effect on me than I thought, rattling around my brain as I joined Lexa in her quarters.

"...are you alright?" she asked me after accepting her dinner. "You seem distracted."

I blinked, meeting her eyes. It would have been easy to tell her that Titus was being confrontational and rude for no reason. One word and she'd boot him out, no questions asked. But as much as I hated him, he was somewhat good for her, having guided the previous Commander too. Lexa couldn't do this alone, she needed someone with experience. Experience I didn't have. Stirring discontent between them would be for nothing other than a personal vendetta, and a worthless one at that.

No, I couldn't do that.

"Sorry, it's just been a long day," I lied, offering her a small smile. "Bit tired."

"Well, eat your dinner and you can go off to sleep," she said with a soft smile, patting my shoulder.

I nodded, putting her at ease enough for her to dig into her own dinner.

Truthfully, Titus had nothing to worry about. I was too cowardly to make a move anyway.

—

17 years old...

I should have known it would happen eventually. What was I to expect? That she'd stay single forever?

It didn't make it easier to deal with though, especially because the girl in question was absolutely lovely and I couldn't hate her for any reason other than she was with the girl I loved.

Lexa and I were returning to the Tower from a meeting she had at someone's house in the centre of the city when they met. It was a little busier than usual today because of some sales on produce nearby, so we were manoeuvring our way through the crowd. As we did, Lexa accidentally walked right into an oncoming girl, a bit too harshly than intended, and immediately went to apologise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I–" she started, steadying the stranger, but she stopped short when she looked up.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," the girl apologised, smiling softly, and then her eyes met Lexa's, animated and beautiful and captivating Lexa in an instant. "I should've watched where I was going."

I glanced at Lexa, who was entranced, expression softening and mouth slightly open.

"Who are you?" she asked without thinking. "I haven't see you here before."

"My name is Costia," the girl introduced herself, as captivated by Lexa as she was with her. "I'm from Floukru, but I moved here for a change."

Lexa smiled, putting out her forearm respectfully. "It's nice to meet you, Costia. I'm Lexa."

Costia returned her forearm shake, but then realisation crossed her expression. "Wait, Lexa as in Heda Lexa?"

She was about to kneel, but Lexa stopped her with a chuckle, certainly surprising me. She was already infatuated, it was obvious, and I felt uneasy.

"It's okay, there's no need for that," Lexa assured her with sparkling eyes.

Everything about the way she looked at her to the way she couldn't seem to remember I was even here irked me. She liked her, clearly, and I couldn't blame her. Costia was everything I wasn't. She had the complete opposite features to me, a delicate nature about her, and she wasn't afraid to make her attraction to Lexa obvious.

I gave them space, not that they noticed, and my suspicions were confirmed later that evening when Lexa gushed about her crush on this mystery girl, having asked her out when I left.

The jealousy was poisoning me, but I couldn't blame anyone except myself.

It didn't take long for them to officially get together, to my dismay. And because of this, it meant I spent less time with Lexa because she was spending most of her free time with Costia. Titus didn't take this new development any better than I, looking just as bitter as I felt, though for different reasons.

He made it known to me when we were both in the throne room one time, waiting on the side as Lexa had called us in for our counsel on something, but was first finishing her conversation with Costia. I avoided looking their way, resisting the urge to roll my eyes from nothing other than an innate and unfair jealousy. Titus, however, was glaring holes in their direction.

"I don't like this," he mumbled to me.

I sighed. "I bet."

At this, he tore his gaze from them to glare at me. "You weren't this bad."

"Gee, thanks."

He rolled his eyes. "Costia is going to be a massive distraction."

I glanced at him disapprovingly. "She won't. Lexa is happy. Leave her be."

As if annoyed that I didn't disapprove as he did, he scoffed quietly and crossed his arms, continuing to glare at them.

Unlike him, I couldn't hate on their relationship, not even because I was jealous. Costia was lovely, carefree, kind and she made Lexa happier than ever. Plus, she was nothing short of nice to me every time she saw me. How could I hate that?

—

I thought I was finally getting used to them together, but there were still times when I felt like I'd been replaced, as horribly selfish as it sounded.

With the intention of grabbing Lexa for a meeting, I let myself into her room as I always did, but realised she was sat on the bed and Costia was stood over her.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," I said awkwardly, unsure what I was even interrupting.

As I backed up to leave, Costia stepped to the side to reveal Lexa with war paint swiped across her eyes.

"Doesn't she look daring?" Costia said with a proud smile, paint in her hand.

Despite the bittersweet feeling of it all, I couldn't help but smile at Lexa. "Of course."

Lexa returned my smile and stood up, before saying to Costia, "It was actually Y/N who first put this on for me. When we were kids. And then it just... stuck."

The memory was as fresh as ever, leaving me with a sour taste in my mouth. Oh, how things had changed since then.

"You had the right idea," Costia told me sweetly, before looking to Lexa with adoration. "It looks great."

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. As they gazed at each other, I felt like a third wheel and decided to leave.

"What did you need, Y/N?" Lexa called before I could.

"Just grabbing you for the meeting, but I'll meet you in the throne room," I said nonchalantly.

She smiled, nodding. "Okay. See you in a minute."

Deflated, I left. Just another thing to get used to.

—

19 years old...

The scream was ear-piercing, strained with utter horror and ricocheting off the Tower walls. I woke with a fright, jumping out my skin. I didn't even need to be told – I knew who it was immediately and my heart squeezed into nothingness as I left my bed and hurried down the hall where Lexa's quarters were.

The guards that watched the halls were too slow for my liking, trailing behind me like lost lambs. I took the lead, concerned and confused and uneasy as I pushed her doors open. I feared what I'd find.

Lexa was who I saw first, on the floor in her nightgown as if she'd just gotten out of bed, leaning back on her hands and trembling so much I thought she'd shatter.

"Lexa!" I rushed to her side, kneeling down with worry. "What is it? What's wrong?"

In all my life, I'd never seen her afraid, not like this, and certainly not enough to elicit a scream like she had. What could it be?

I followed her tear-filled gaze, noticing a box at the foot of her bed. Reluctantly, I let go of her and approached the box, and it was a sight I'd never forget.

There sat Costia'a head, lifeless eyes forced open and fresh blood still staining her beheaded neck.

My hand came to my mouth immediately and I looked away, afraid I'd throw up if I didn't. I caught the glaring symbol on the inside of the box though – the symbol of Azgeda, Lexa's biggest enemy – and knew who was responsible.

The guards were just as taken aback as I was, freezing by the door when they noticed the head. Lexa's sobs pulled me from my momentary shock and I immediately looked to the guards with as much confidence as I could muster. They couldn't see their Commander falter like this, not if I could help it.

"What are you waiting for?!" I shouted at them. "Remove this now!" As they jumped at my words, and eventually into action, I continued, "And find out who broke in here last night! Up the security!"

They nodded frantically, carefully taking the box out of there and leaving Lexa and I alone. I returned to her side, where she was still staring at the spot where the box was, glassy eyes widened with horror.

"Lexa, I'm sorry," I said, pulling her in for a hug, hating the way she trembled. "I'm so sorry."

Her sobs were silenced in my shirt and she clutched me so tightly I was sure I'd have bruises, but I didn't care. I was still in utter shock, unable to believe Costia was dead at the hands of Azgeda. I knew we'd had tension with them for a while now, all because their queen didn't trust Lexa in power, but I never thought they'd stoop this low.

Costia deserved better... so did Lexa.

—

She wasn't the same after that. I couldn't blame her. Finding someone you loved, beheaded, at the foot of your bed? When you'd only just kissed them goodnight the night before? It was traumatising. Hell, it still haunted me!

We held a funeral, but Lexa didn't shed another tear after the morning she found her. She was much quieter, much more closed off, as if numb to the whole situation. Even when I visited her after the funeral, concerned for her well-being, she told me to leave. I didn't want to, but maybe space was what she needed, so I obeyed.

There were no leads on how the box was delivered, nor who delivered it. The guards were still searching, making enquiries, but it seemed futile. Horrifyingly enough, Costia's body was never found, so we could only burn the head. It was disgusting, the emotional warfare Azgeda were playing on Lexa.

Costia had nothing to do with any of this, she'd only been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it was something Lexa never forgave herself for.

The girl I'd come to know as easygoing and full of life was gone, completely replaced by this shell of a person. At first, she was isolating herself from everyone, only throwing herself into her duties and responsibilities as Heda. It took a long several months for her to fully grieve Costia, for her to finally open up to me again, but she wasn't the same.

I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen her smile or laugh. It was as if her happiness had died with Costia and I understood why, but I hated seeing her like that.

We were in archery practice one day, the two of us sometimes training together like old times. I was growing tired, looking forward to when it would end so we could do something a little more fun.

"Do you wanna go for a swim after this?" I asked her, the idea coming to me at that moment. "In the lake, like we used to?"

She didn't spare a glance my way as she lined up her next shot. "I have more important matters to attend to, Y/N."

"C'mon, it'll be fun," I said encouragingly as she let the arrow fly through the air, finding the centre of the target with ease. "It's warm out and the lake will be refreshing."

"No," she said simply, going to collect her arrow.

I sighed quietly, watching her with a concerned gaze. Gently, I spoke, "Look, I know it's been hard, but I'm here for you and I think that, maybe, not working as hard might make this–"

"What?" she interrupted harshly, finally looking at me, though with a fiery glare. I jumped at volume of her voice, not expecting it. "Easier? How? How can it be easier when Azgeda are plotting to overthrow me every single day? How will a dip in the lake fix that?!"

I swallowed awkwardly, unsure what to say. It felt stupid now.

"We're not kids anymore," she reminded me with a sneer.

I frowned. "I know. Sorry. I don't mean–"

"You're forgiven," she cut me off, looking away with a clenched jaw. "End of discussion."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as she returned to her stance before the target, lining up another shot. And just like that, we were back to archery.

—

21 years old...

It was supposed to be a simple rescue mission. In and out of Azgeda's prison camps, rescuing our people and leaving before they'd even notice.

But everything went wrong when they caught us escaping.

Arrows were flying, swords were wielded and, in the midst of chaos, I saw that a few of our own were struck down. We needed to leave, fast.

Those of us who could mounted their horses, prisoners with them, and raced out of there whilst a few stayed back to buy us time. Lexa was one of them, mounting her horse and taking a few of Azgeda's soldiers out on the way. I was close behind, the last of our party to leave, and pushed my horse as fast as I could. Unfortunately for me, before I could even make it out of the snowy lands of Azgeda's territory, a loose arrow caught my horse's front leg and I went flying forward as a result.

The wind was knocked from me as I landed face first in the snow, the cold already seeping through my clothes and my whole body aching from the fall. But I couldn't stay put for long, already hearing someone on my tail.

It took me a lot of effort to push myself off the ground, finding my sword which had luckily not impaled me on the fall. As soon as I turned around, I saw one of the Azgeda prison guards hurtling towards me, his own sword raised as he let out a battle cry. I held my ground, grip tightening on my sword, and immediately blocked his swing as he came at me.

Luckily for me, my sword fighting had much improved over the years, mostly due to Lexa's constant need for training, and it aided me in this fight as I blocked every swing from my opponent. He was large and strong, albeit slow, so at my best opportunity, I parried his swing and used the power of it to go around him, stabbing him through the back.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I yanked my sword out, watching him collapse in the snow. My success was short lived however, as I heard barking from behind me and turned around a second too late. A wild dog – one of the ones the Azgeda army trained for battle – raced through the trees and leapt on me, going straight for my leg.

I screamed as its sharp teeth sunk right into my calf, at the orders of its owner who was approaching us but only watching as I struggled. Instinctively, I swung my sword, but the dog was merely inconvenienced, moving back to bark at me before leaping at me again. This time, I was knocked backwards into the snow, dropping my sword. It reattached its teeth to my leg, piercing flesh and bone and oblivious to my weak attempts at kicking it away. I felt like I couldn't breathe, the pain too strong to even acknowledge.

Suddenly, an arrow flew through the air, landing right in the dog's head and killing it instantly. It didn't matter to me though – my leg felt like it was in tatters and I was starting to see spots in my vision. Not even the cold of the snow was a bother to me anymore – I could have been dipped in fire at that moment and known no difference.

"Y/N!" someone shouted after me.

My people had returned, dismounting their horses as they fought off the Azgeda stragglers, including that wretched dog's owner.

Lexa was with them, having come back to my aid. She let her people deal with the remaining Azgeda soldiers, instead coming to my side with a concerned look. Her eyes glanced between me and my leg and, judging from her expression, it wasn't great.

"I need help over here!" she yelled to her solders.

Two members of our party rushed to my side, attempting to carry me, but even the slightest bit of movement had me screeching in agony.

"Be gentle!" Lexa ordered, and they were suddenly less rough. She took my hand, squeezing it gently. "You're gonna be okay. We're going home."

All I could manage was a weak nod, tears burning my eyes.

We must have made it back to Polis, though I couldn't be sure it was without disruption as I passed out not long after they placed me on a horse.

When I awoke, I recognised the healer's room at the Tower, though it felt strange being the one in the bed rather than the healer. I couldn't remember why I was here, still in a daze, and then I heard a sigh of relief and looked to my right to see Lexa standing up, touching my cheek with relief.

It was unusual seeing the tears down her cheeks and her red, puffy eyes staring down at me. She hadn't cried this much since Costia died years ago. Was I hurt that bad?

"What happened?" I asked tiredly, not quite adjusting to the aches and pains in my body.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," she said with a watery voice. "I should've got to you sooner."

Got to me sooner...?

And then it came back to me. Our people. Azgeda. The dog. My leg.

My eyes widened as I put Lexa's words together with what I remembered and then I was quick to try and sit up to see if my leg was okay, but Lexa tried to stop me.

"Y/N, just wait–"

"Let go!" I shouted, shoving her off long enough to finally see what I feared.

My lower left leg was gone. All that remained was a bloody, bandaged stump, ending at my knee. I could barely believe what I was looking at, eyes watering at the sight.

"It was the only way," she said regretfully. "It was badly infected and the bites were too deep. They couldn't save it."

Her words went in one ear and out the other. All I could see was the spot where my leg used to be.

"It's gone," I whispered, voice trembling.

Her hand rested on my shoulder gently. "Y/N..."

I touched my knee and then the spot after it, where my calf should've been. And then I felt something break inside of me and the tears finally fell.

Lexa sat beside me, pulling me into her chest and holding me tightly. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here."

But it wasn't okay, was it? Nothing was okay.

—

The next few days were some of the hardest I'd endured.

Lexa stayed by my side the whole time, only leaving to bring me food or see the healers looking after me. I couldn't bear to look at her, nor my father, who stopped by regularly too.

Everything was so futile to me. Without my leg, I would never walk the same again. And how would I continue to be a combat medic if I couldn't even stand? How could I work at Lexa's side? I was useless. And I couldn't stand it.

My feelings left me in a pit of depression, my appetite gone and my will to recover completely absent. I couldn't see a future where I'd feel like myself again, and no matter who was there to support me, I refused their help.

I was sulking yet again, staring at the wall and soaking in my own misery since there was nothing else to do. Lexa had left to get me some food and, truthfully, I was glad. Her constant worrying and fretting at my side was doing nothing to help.

The logical part of me was grateful she cared, but the emotional part won over and I seriously hated having her around right now, not when I couldn't think straight about anything other than my missing leg.

My momentary peace was interrupted when Lexa returned, tray of food in hand which she set on the table beside my bed.

"It's time to eat something, Y/N," she said softly, hand resting on my hand, but I snatched it away.

Ignoring her, I continued to stare at the wall ahead, void of feeling.

"Y/N, please, you have to eat," she said, unfazed by my mood.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I purposely looked to the left, away from her, hoping she'd get the hint. Of course, she didn't.

"Don't be like that," she said, a little sterner this time, and it infuriated me because why couldn't I be like that? Who was she to tell me otherwise?

"I can do what I want," I snapped at her with a glare. "I'm not hungry, so just leave me alone already."

Her lips twitched into a slight frown, but she didn't move. "You're not going to get better if you don't eat," she said firmly.

"Get the damn hint and go away! I don't need your help!" I said bitterly.

She swallowed hard, green eyes flickering between mine with an unreadable expression, before leaving the room. I glared a hole into the space where she left, eyes burning with tears, and was overcome by an immediate guilt.

It was easier to push her away now, as much as it hurt to do so. At least this way she wouldn't notice how much of a burden I would become. Cripples had no place working under the Commander, best friend or not. And I wasn't sure I could handle being fazed out by Lexa in time.

Despite how awful the whole situation was, I couldn't bring it in myself to face her. She tried to return after my outburst, but I made sure Nyko refused her entry. I was surprised it worked, considering she was the Commander and could do whatever she wanted. She still found her way back in over the course of the next week, but I continued to ignore her, wanting her to lose interest on her own and stop visiting me.

I should have known trying to get Lexa to do anything was impossible though, as when she showed up once more, ignoring my request through Nyko to leave me alone, she had a whole speech prepared.

"I said I didn't want to see you,"  I mumbled tiredly upon noticing her walk in without warning.

She ignored me and stopped by my bed. "You don't get to request that."

I rolled my eyes, my usual self-deprecating attitude written all over my face. But unlike the past few weeks, she wasn't accepting it anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she suddenly shouted, surprising me.

I finally looked to her, surprised to see her shooting me a fiery glare.

"I almost lost you, don't you see that?" she continued, giving me no chance to respond. "I watched you bleed all over the bed as they assessed the damage. Watched as you came to and from consciousness, as they cut off your leg. They thought you were going to die from the blood loss. And now you're okay and what? You're pushing me away?! For what? Pride?!"

I pressed my lips together, tensing my jaw, face hot with shame and self-pity.

"Well, I refuse," she said decisively. "I'm staying and you can't get rid of me. No matter how many times you try to tell Nyko."

Even as I closed my eyes, I could feel tears welling up. Why was she so stubborn?

Her voice cracked as she continued, "They're moving you back to your room tomorrow."

I looked away, unsure what to say, and then she took my hand between hers and I couldn't bring it in myself to pull away. Admittedly, I craved the comfort, though I didn't deserve it. Not after how I'd treated her.

"I'm not leaving your side," she repeated, less angry and more concerned.

It only reminded me why I was acting like this in the first place.

"For now," I said, voice hoarse.

She blinked. "What?"

Narrowing my eyes, I finally looked to her, speaking more clearly. "For now. You'll be here for now and then you'll get busy with Heda responsibilities, and then you'll realise I can't work with you anymore because I can't even walk. And then you'll get busier and busier and realise I'm just a damned burden and then you'll leave. And I won't blame you one bit, but it'll happen."

Her expression softened. "How can you say that?"

Embarrassed, I let go of her hand and wiped away a stray tear, looking away. "Because it's true. We're not kids anymore, remember? You don't owe me a thing."

"You're such a fool."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. How could she say that when she'd spent the last few years an emotionless wreck because of Costia's death, only ever putting her job first?

"No, you are," she disagreed. "You think I'd just push you away like that?"

"Yes," I said simply, looking down at my bed covers. "Love is weakness. Isn't that what you've been saying?"

"I thought that," she admitted, "but it's not. Not with you."

I rolled my eyes.

"I thought I lost you and I didn't," she said gently, considerately. "That's worth something. Because..." She paused, hesitant, then continued, "...because I'm in love with you."

She said it so nonchalantly that I had to truly digest her words, and even then I couldn't believe them.

With disbelief, I glanced at her. "What?"

She was trembling slightly, surprising me, and began to nod. Her eyes were glassy as they met mine. "I am. I can't lose you too."

For a moment, I saw the old Lexa, the one who I'd known most of my life, before Azgeda ruined her, and it broke my heart.

"Lexa...," I started, but didn't know what to say.

"You're not a burden," she told me with certainty. "Those one love never are."

I struggled to find words, heart beating exceptionally fast as she maintained eye contact. She loved me? After all this time, the girl I fell in love with loved me too? What?

"Please don't say I've ruined everything," she whispered, hopeless.

Remembering to move, I quickly shook my head, though my mind was still reeling. "You haven't. You–"

She cut me off with a kiss, pressing her lips to mine eagerly. She kissed me like she'd been waiting to forever, hands curling around my face and nose brushing against mine as she tilted her head to the side. I kissed her back, melting into her with ease and acutely aware of how perfect she felt against me.

I still couldn't catch up to what was happening, not even as she pulled back slightly, breathless and meeting my gaze. She didn't speak, as if waiting for my reaction before she could do anything.

"Are you sure?" was all I could say, stunned.

She nodded slowly.

I licked my lips. "Good. Because I'm in love with you too, Lexa."

Her lips curved into a small smile, eyes darting between mine, before she kissed me again.

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Four: Knight Titus

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: A chance encounter with the Brotherhood of Steel allows you to escape the gulper and continue your journey. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.4k

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“My lord! I’ve got you! Knight Titus!”

“I’m going in! I got you!”

Muffled shouts and piercing screams echo through the air as the gulper you've been trapped inside starts to emit a deep rumble. Suddenly, the creature violently regurgitates you, along with its stomach and its contents spilling out. Gasping and retching, you find yourself drenched in gulper bile.

"How the hell am I still alive?!" you shout, bewildered. "And why does it have so many damn fingers?!"

"Who are you?" a nervy man asks, clutching the head of the doctor.

"That's my head, give it back!" you demand, reaching for it, only to have your hand swatted away by another man. Looking up, you see a towering Knight of the Brotherhood standing over you.

"Oh, it's the flying garbage can," you remark nonchalantly, recognizing the distinctive power armor of the Brotherhood from the claw marks you had observed when the knight had soared above you a few days earlier.

"Do not show disrespect to my lord! This is Knight Titus of the Brotherhood of Steel! And I am his squire, Thaddeus!" the squire interjects, his voice filled with righteous indignation.

"Shut up, you little weasel," you retort.

"What's a weasel?" Thaddeus mutters to the knight, his confusion evident as he seeks clarification on the insult hurled his way. In response, the knight simply gives a shrug.

"Who are you, and how did you end up inside that gulper?" Knight Titus demands, his voice resonating with authority.

"I don't have time for you tin cans!" you dismissively huff, frustration evident in your voice as you lunge at Thaddeus, causing him to shriek in terror. The dog, miraculously still present, begins barking loudly at the commotion. Amidst the chaos, Knight Titus remains motionless, silently observing the scene.

“My lord! She’s feral!” Thaddeus cries out in fear, clinging to the head.

"Just give me the damn head! And stop squealing like that," you demand, your voice laced with irritation as you mindlessly slap Thaddeus in your disoriented state. As a seasoned bounty hunter, you are typically much more composed and intimidating, but the ordeal of being trapped inside a gulper's stomach has left your mind foggy and your actions uncharacteristically erratic.

You hear heavy footsteps approaching, unmistakably the sound of power armor. Knight Titus lifts you up by the collar of your shirt, leaving you suspended in the air while Thaddeus manages to stand up.

“Why are you so mean?” Thaddeus exclaims earnestly.

“She’s a bounty hunter,” Knight Titus confirms, his tone steady and authoritative as he presumably looks you over. It’s always so hard to tell what those damn Brotherhood Knights are thinking. Without warning, he offers a brief apology before delivering a powerful punch to your face, sending you spiraling into unconsciousness.

Head pounding, you gradually sit up and survey your surroundings, realizing that the two men and the head are nowhere to be seen. Even the dog has skipped out on you, leaving you alone. Luckily, your bag is still with you, and you begin to rummage through it in search of any meds. Upon finding the vials you used to bribe the ghoul, now broken and rendered useless, you let out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, he definitely wasn’t coming back for me," you mutter.

With a sense of relief, you salvage a single stimpak and a supply of rad-away from your bag and use both items. Covered in a grimy mixture of gulper bile, dirt, and dried blood, you realize that it's definitely time for wash. Seeing no signs of any creatures around, you determine you’re in the clear to safely wash.

Without bothering to shed your soiled clothes and armor, reasoning that they could use a good wash as well, you wade into the cool waters of the flooded ruins. The water envelops you, washing away the layers of grime and filth that cling to your skin and clothes. The coolness soothes your aching muscles and clears your mind.

After what feels like an eternity, you emerge from the water, feeling slightly refreshed. As you step out onto the dry soil, the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the wasteland. You begin to wonder where the ghoul could’ve gone. He obviously dragged the vault dweller with him and needs more of those vials. Unfortunately the few vials you had you scavenged off of feral ghouls you took down so you truly have no clue where one goes to purchase them.

Your boots squish with every step, a sensation you despise, but there's little you can do about it. Glancing down, you notice that your clothes are worse for wear, prompting you to make a mental note to buy something new, by wasteland standards, at the next settlement you come across. You sort through your bag, discarding any broken or unnecessary items. All that remains is some ammo, a canister of somewhat purified water, a small stash of caps, and the Pip-Boy you seldom use. I wonder if there's a Super Duper Mart nearby, you think to yourself.

Throwing the bag over your shoulder and ensuring your weapons are secure, you set out in search of a store to scavenge. Concerned that your weapons may be too soaked to function properly, you make sure you still have the large hunting knife strapped to your thigh. The darkness begins to descend, but you remain determined to press forward, keeping a watchful eye for anything dangerous.

As you navigate through the fading light, your eyes scan the horizon for any signs of civilization. The wasteland stretches out before you, a desolate expanse of ruins and decay. The only sound is the distant howling of the wind, carrying with it the haunting whispers of the forgotten world.

The landscape begins to change, the remnants of buildings becoming more frequent. You spot the crumbling remains of what was once a small town. You check each building cautiously but nothing of value is found. In one building, you come across a dead ghoul with a gunshot wound to the head and… whose ass cheeks have been stripped for meat. This world is unforgiving but the idea of resorting to cannibalism is something you simply cannot fathom and hope to never encounter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a decrepit stairwell and carefully head upstairs. At the top, a cozy setup greets you - a dirty mattress, an oil lamp, and a few old yum-yum deviled eggs. This must have been the makeshift home of the ghoul from below. Despite his grim fate, you're thankful for the somewhat snug spot to rest for the night. You aren’t too concerned about whatever cannibal stripped him of meat since they are most likely long gone by now. Settling down on the mattress, your eyes grow heavy and you swiftly fall asleep.

As you slowly awake to the morning light filtering through the boarded-up window, you feel a tugging sensation on your left leg. Startled, you look down to see a tiny radroach attempting to nibble on you. Reacting quickly with a loud shriek, you kick its face and draw your knife, stabbing it repeatedly until it stops moving. Taking a deep breath, you lean back against the wall and open the yum-yum deviled eggs. Chewing through them, you defiantly welcome the day with a loud “Good fucking morning to you, too, wasteland!”

After finishing the deviled eggs and taking a swig of water, you prepare for the day ahead. Double-checking the contents of your bag and inspecting your weapons that had gotten wet the day before, everything appears to be in working order. Satisfied, you descend the stairs and step out through the front door. The scorching heat of the day is already intense, with the sun's rays beating down on the sandy ground. Your attention is drawn to a trail of footprints, two distinct pairs, which prompts you to follow out of curiosity.

With each step, the trail of footprints becomes more defined, leading you closer to the ruins of a city. The skeletal remains of skyscrapers loom ahead of you, their shattered windows like hollow eyes, observing your progress. The trail winds its way through the eerie maze of desolation, navigating past rusted cars and collapsed structures. Before you know it, you hear a man and woman talking up ahead in front of a Super Duper Mart. You quickly hide behind a nearby building and peer around the corner

It’s that fucking ghoul and vault dweller.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

i am obSESSSSED with how you write coop 🫶 but i have to ask.. do you have any thoughts about maximus? 👀 my boy needs some loving..

General Maximus Headcanons

(NSFW under the cut)

SFW:

It was so nice to get to see this cutie pie experience a little bit of pampering when he and Lucy were staying in Vault 4. Here are some other mundane pleasures that I think he's never experienced but would greatly enjoy: the concept of a DVR, playing literally any video game on a nice PC setup, one of those solid four-poster beds, Mongolian barbecue, a full body massage at a legit massage parlor (that is, if he could be trusted to not sin all over the place in the middle of it a la that virgin guy Luanne almost married in that one episode of King of the Hill).

Zero ability to gauge friendliness. If you're nice to him, he's suspicious that you want something from him/are trying to manipulate him (or that you wanna fuck him once someone explains the concept of proper flirting to him). Struggles to make friends that feel genuine. Yearns for a type of companionship he's never had before just like he yearns for a safe home he's never really known.

Seeing him watch TV in Vault 4 made me think about what sort of things he'd like to watch, and I think he seems like he'd really like slice-of-life/laugh track type sitcoms. Something comforting and nice where people's problems are less "life and death" and more about showing that they love one another. This man would love, like, Ted Lasso.

He's real touchy about his brand scar (the whole Titus thing in general, actually). Best not to ask too many questions about it and keep quiet if he brings it up.

Much like Cooper, this man is such a sucker for inside jokes. He wants to be included so badly that feeling like he's in on a bit will make him SO happy. He'll run the joke into the ground in his excitement, but that's okay.

NSFW:

We've seen that he obviously lacks comprehensive sex education, and I think that would be a breeding ground for the guy to have a bunch of very niche kinks.

All sorts of things you do get him worked up for reasons he absolutely doesn't understand, and half the time he doesn't even really realize that what he's feeling is arousal/sexual frustration, so you may find that, early on, he gets annoyed and instead asks you to stop doing those things in front of him because they "bother him". These include: pulling your hair up away from your neck/face, licking your fingers when you eat, resting your head in his lap when he's sitting down.

Doesn't jerk off and as a result has insane nocturnal emissions about once a week. Well, he thinks they're nocturnal emissions, once someone explains to him what that is. He's actually humping his mattress to completion most of the times it happens. He assumes this happens to literally everyone.

I think he would love mutual masturbation as a low-stakes way to share some intimacy with you without having to worry about touching or being touched "right". Plus, it would be a good opportunity to study the way you like to be stimulated without feeling like a creep.

MASSIVE mommy kink. It just makes too much sense. He so deeply desires that sense of safety and unconditional acceptance that comes with having a proper 'home' that I think if you babied him a little, he'd be yours forever. Absolutely just wants to bury his face into your breasts and comfort suckle while you jerk him off. This man calls you "mama" when he cums.

[zahri-melitor]

The thing that actually most frustrates me about Damian's pets is not only that it's turned into a gratuitous menagerie that only show up en masse because it's now turned into 'Damian likes animals, give him another pet' without considering how many he already has, but that the basis of a good story already existed before we ended up where we are today.

The problem is that we wouldn't be in the situation we are today with them if not for Grant Morrison.

Because look, if you read Batman and Robin 2011 on its own, Tomasi and Gleason do a solid job of using Titus as a route to demonstrate Damian's growing responsibility and ability to show affection and connect with Bruce. Titus is explicitly framed as a responsibility, as 'a boy and his dog', and one dog around the Wayne household is pretty common (usually an Ace). It's the opening steps to more story about Damian trusting others.

If Damian loved animals and stopped to play with kittens in alleys and just had Titus at home, we wouldn't be in this situation.

Bat-Cow, and honestly Alfred the Cat, are what caused the problem.

Bat-Cow as a concept is inherent Silver Age ridiculousness (what a surprise from Morrison), but also Damian saving a milking cow who is being sent to an abattoir is far more of a demonstration of what we end up getting, which is what looks like a possessive level of hoarding. Damian not only saves the cow, but wants it installed in the Cave, even though that is a terrible environment to keep a cow in, and there's very little point in having a cow living on the Wayne property. And what annoys me more is that nobody will let the cow just quietly disappear off panel never to reappear again (she's at least now been on a 'farm' since Joker War and Bruce losing Wayne Manor).

Alfred the Cat irritates me in that he's just a duplicate story to Titus, only done with less effort and entirely because Grant Morrison never reads anyone else's work AND Morrison wanted to give Damian a pet to humanise him right before killing him off. Alfred is a narrative device and annoys me because a good editor would have had Morrison just use Titus instead, who could have hit very similar beats, rather than Damian acquiring three separate pets in just over a year of comics, right before dying (and as far as Morrison was concerned, dying permanently). A pet is for life, not just a reward because you're getting killed.

And from there on, it's just turned into 'oh Damian likes animals!' so we get Goliath and Jerry the Turkey (who I believe recently emigrated to main canon in the last few years rather than being in Lil Gotham). And the story doesn't know what to do with so many animals, so they disappear entirely aside from occasional art cameos, Super-Pets stories, and about one story beat ever 3-5 years. He's endlessly going through the story of 'why' he acquired a pet to humanise him, rather than being humanised by playing with a long term pet.

There's also a narrative problem where we never actually ever see Damian caring for his animals (outside of Titus and occasionally Alfred the Cat), but what scenes we do get of people looking after the animals are all scenes of Alfred and Bruce checking in on them because Damian's not available. So while the dialogue in those scenes tends to be 'oh Damian would normally be doing this but'... we don't see Damian doing it. We only see Alfred and Bruce doing it. Or Maya, who's looking after Goliath. And given how often Damian runs off to find himself on an island, a lot of that pet care over the years has been from Alfred and Bruce, because he's not been living at home.

And yes, there's also the issue that Damian And His Pets is rather similar to the self-centred position Damian has on his various clones. He considers his clones his brothers; but the narrative is frequently setting that up in a manner that suggests this is grace that Damian especially extends to them because they are his clones. It's not really grappling with the concepts of extending that care and humanism to people or animals that are not 'his'.

It's just endlessly frustrating to me, because if Damian just had Titus, I think both Titus would appear on panel more often (and thus have more narrative use), and there would be the potential to build further plots out from Titus, if writers wanted to explore the themes around what pet ownership can demonstrate.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Bonds

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Trans Masc Autistic Reader

Hello! A bit of an authors note. This particular series will be dealing with transphobia, all of which stems from personal experience. Be advised when reading!

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, has themes of obsession , violence, stalking, conditioning and manipulation. Trigger warning for this particular one include the above warnings. They’re all pretty mild tbh.

Looking back on it, you knew there was nothing you could have done. That Dad Bruce had planned and pre-planned every meeting since your first interaction to draw you in, to learn more, before he had finally just taken you to the Manor. That there was absolutely nothing you could of done to outsmart the World’s Greatest Detective, who had become inexplicably obsessed with you, alongside all of his kids.

That didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t get rid of the guilt, or the frustration, or the fact you had been so close to doing what you wanted to do with your life. It didn’t help the ugly knot in your chest that would well up, tight and complex and full of emotion, and it didn’t help the bitter rage that would sit heavy in your belly some days.

You sigh, gently scratching behind Titus’ ear, and his tail thumps against the hardwood as he wiggles closer, nose snuffling for any treats. Finding none, he continues to preen under your petting and you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead with a smile.

“I had wondered where Titus had gone.” Damian comments, sitting next to you. Out of all of your “siblings”, Damian never really.. set of that anger in your chest. He was younger than you, still a child, and even though it sucked it made sense that he would follow in the behaviors others had set out for him. It made you sad, sometimes, but not angry.

“Me and him are just chilling. Isn’t that right, Titus?” He woofs softly at the sound of his name, and you laugh, scratching behind his ear again.

“You are going to spoil him, one of these days. I hope you know that.” Damian scolds, like he had a leg to stand on. You had seen him sneak the dog treats and snacks every now and then, something you were all explicitly banned from doing to prevent the dog from trying to get into the trash or on the countertops. “Are you watching Star Wars again?”

He sounded far too judgmental for your tastes, and you frown, reaching for the remote.

“I didn’t say to change it. Todd had simple remarked the other day that you watched it often.” He interjects, and you feel your shoulders unwind. You were.. defensive, of your interests, and it always upset you when someone mocked you for having them, no matter how much you wished it didn’t.

“Jason hardly knows how to mind his business half the time.” You grumble, then stretch. Damian slots into the seat beside you like he had been planning to all along, and you sigh tiredly. Despite the fact that you heavily suspected Damian was touch-starved to all hell, he would never outright ask for a hug, or go for one, instead slotting himself into a position where it would be very easy for you to hug or cuddle him.

Sometimes, it made you too sad not to. This time was one of those times.

You wrap an arm around your little brother Damian, letting him decide whether or not he actually wanted the affection. He sinks into your side easily, and you shift, eyes fixated on the screen.

You try not to wonder how much of his hesitance came from genuine trauma and how much came from the careful calculation he inherited from his father. It would only upset you.

You watch as the characters on the screen argue, the lines familiar enough that you mouth along, and the sky darkens outside, time passing in that strange, crawling way it did when you were totally relaxed and falling asleep. Part of you is glad Damian sought you out, the soft sounds of his breathing lulling you to sleep. Your eyes droop, and you sigh, letting your head fall back against the cushions.

“Awww.” The sound of a quiet coo makes you nearly jump up, arms tightening around Damian, and you only stiffen further when you see Dick leaning against the door, a broad grin on his features. He watches the two of you, Damian, who was no doubt awake, and yourself, and his eyes are sharp and piercing enough that your stomach turns.

“No one told me you’d come out of your room, baby bat.” He huffs, and moves toward you both on silent feet.

“Perhaps they simply wanted to spend time alone, Grayson.” Damian sniffs, but does nothing to prevent Dick from clambering onto the couch, wrapping an arm around you and Damian both. Despite not being even close to the youngest, Dick always treated you as a younger sibling, something that drove you insane and made rage bubble up whenever you thought of it too much.

“Nah. They’ll typically sneak off to the library if they want time alone.” He wasn’t wrong, per se, but the flippant way he says it makes you send him a tired glare. “What’re you watching?”

“Star Wars. The fifth one.”

“That’s the one with the Vader reveal, right? When he’s like “I am your father” and all that?” He questions, and you send him a tired glare.

“You’re older than me, how are you not more familiar with Star Wars.” You complain, and he laughs, settling further into the seat next to you. There was no escaping it now, unfortunately. You were stuck in the cuddle pile until he either let you go, the movie ended, or Alfred came to your rescue. Given that there was nearly an hour of movie left, you really hoped the third option would happen.

“Hey! I spent most of my childhood running around fighting crime, you don’t really get super into sci-fi after meeting actual aliens!” He defends, grinning.

“I feel like that would only increase the interest more, but okay.” You snort, and he laughs.

For the most part, the three of you are silent. Dick has a running commentary throughout the movie that you ignore, only pausing to correct him when he is simply just outright wrong, and Damian doesn’t say anything at all except to remark on how stupid the two of you were.

Then the scene on Cloud City comes on. The reveal.

It makes you.. uncomfortable, seeing how desperate Luke is to get away. It makes something tighten in your chest as you watch the screen, and Dick must realize because his eyes cut to you and suddenly the remote is in his hands, turning off the show.

“Not in the mood for all the dramatics.” He lies with an easy grin, even though you know that the reason he changed it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. “Let’s just sit and watch this, yeah?”

You weren’t even sure what show he had put on, and so you shake your head, pushing yourself up.

A strong arm pushes you back. Your heart starts hammering in your throat, an awful mix of anxiety and something else, and you glance over at Dick, trying not to think about the way Damian had eased back with a frown and how your fingers were wrapped tightly around Dick’s arm in alarm.

“Dick. Let me up, I have to use the restroom.” You lie, even as you hear your heartbeat thundering away in your ears. Dick was in a mood today, and you had no clue why or who had put him in that mood. Either way, it had your stomach churning and the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

“Yeah, no problem.” He lets you go easily, at that, and you slip away, trying to make it look like you weren’t running.

The door to your room shuts quietly behind you. The hinges are well-oiled and silent, another precaution they had taken when they had moved you in, so that you couldn’t hear them coming and going. For once, you’re grateful for their never ending paranoia. Now that you had picked up their silent hair, it made it easier for you to slip in and out of your room without detection.

You curl up on the bedspread, not bothering to go under the covers. You felt.. unwell. Hurt and angry and anxious. You felt confused and upset and a million other emotions you couldn’t name.

You had been bickering with Dick before the scene. Acting like siblings, behaving like a family. It was a harsh dose of reality in that no matter how much you cling to your anger, they were steadily working their way into your life, casting you in a role you had never wanted to play.

Or, actually, you had. You had wanted to be a part of their family, but not like this. You had wanted all of it, the loving father, the siblings, the unwavering support. But not at the cost of your freedom.

There’s a soft knock on your door, and you swallow. You hope it’s not Dick, because you didn’t feel like being yelled at and you didn’t feel like being guilt-tripped.

“Come in.” You croak, and the door opens with a whisper of air. Jason or Bruce, maybe? They were always careful to announce their presence when they were upset, although Cass also showed that same level of care when she comforted you.

The bed dips under their weight, and your body slides toward them, even when you don’t turn your head. Not Cass, she was too light. Bruce or Jason, then.

“Dick said you got upset, earlier.” A warm hand buries itself in your hair gently, and your lip trembles, even though you refuse to look at your Dad Bruce. He doesn’t demand that you do, thankfully. “Wanna tell me what you set you off?”

“What do you think?” You snap, teeth bared at nothing, and he continues stroking your hair, gently detangling the strands the best he can.

“I won’t know unless you tell me.” He comments neutrally, and you know that he’s playing you for a fool and it makes you so mad that you push yourself up, twisting around to face him.

“Really?! What have all of our conflicts been about so far, Bruce?” Your shoulders are hiked up. Angry. Defensive. You know you’re mad and you don’t care.

“(Y/N), I know you don’t understand just yet but it was for the best-“

“For you!! I didn’t get a choice, you didn’t give me a choice, and that’s the worst part!!” You shriek, and the bubbling anger that had been locked up and hidden away is finally escaping, in hot tears running down your face and your enraged shrieking. “I never had a choice! I just wanted- I wanted-!”

Sobs tear themselves from your throat, ugly and raw, and when his hand lands on your shoulder you shrug it off, pushing yourself away from him to stand on your own to feet.

The worst part is expression. Guilt and sympathy and sadness make an awful combination, and you grip the desk, rage pulsing in your veins. How dare he be sad when he did this. How dare he be sad when you were the one who had been ripped from your life.

“You wanted someone to take care of you, (Y/N). You needed help.” He says slowly, standing up. His posture is open, gentle, a non-threat. You aren’t fooled, and shuffle back.

“I had it under control! I was fine!” You snarl back, and he shakes his head, his face gentle.

“You didn’t. You weren’t sleeping, barely eating, you were constantly stressed because of your family… that’s not under control. It’s unhealthy.”

“And this is?! Ripping someone from their home, their family, because what-?! You wanted to? You’re awful! You’re selfish! I want to go home, take me home, let me go-!”

Warm arms wrap around you, pressing you into a broad chest, and you shriek against the fabric, trying your best to thrash. Despite being entirely human, his arms are like warm steel around you, unmoving, and eventually, your struggles cease, and you go still.

“I know what I did was selfish. I know it was cruel, (Y/N). But I just… I couldn’t bear losing another son. Your siblings, they can defend themselves. They have the training, the skills. But you were a civilian, struggling to stay alive and get through school, and I could only do so much to help you.”

His voice is thick, and you refuse to look up at him. He had the annoying habit of being painfully genuine when he knew it would rip your heart out.

He leans back, and begins to gently wipe your face, brushing the tears of your cheeks. Despite the screaming, he don’t look angry, but there’s a heavy, awful sorrow in his shoulders that makes you want to cry. Which makes more angry tears spill down your cheeks because how dare he make you feel guilty for upsetting him.

“I can’t lose another son.” He admits, voice cracking, and you swallow. Hearing him call you his son was.. it was a mixed bag. Old hurts and new ones creating something new. “And I knew, if I let it continue on, something terrible would have happened.”

“You could have asked me.” You croak, and he shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t have said yes. You had put everyone’s needs above your own, you would’ve self-destructed if I had left you there.”

The worst part was, he was right. You had been feeling so small and trapped that even if he had offered, you wouldn’t have accepted. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“I know this isn’t fair. But you’ll get through this. And we’ll help you, every step of the way.” A gentle kiss to your forehead, as he smoothed back your hair, and he smiles down at you.

“Dinner is going to be in thirty minutes. Would you like to join me downstairs or stay up here until then?”

Your mouth is dry. Your face is red and teary and upset. Your eyes are puffy from crying.

You don’t want to be alone, either.

“I’ll come downstairs.” You whisper, and he smiles, kneeling to grab your weighted blanket. When you both sit on the couch, he ticks it around your shoulder, sits next to you, and puts on some show or another you don’t recognize.

He is warm and solid against you, and eventually you fall asleep, exhausted.

[glassdecanters]

humanising the batfam with problems a lot of people struggle with

because they are just normal people at the end of the day. tw for mention of disordered eating.

jason todd has frequent ptsd flashbacks in which he can only calm down with music. headphones, all the time, somewhere on him, that boy.

tim stims a lot. some of them are a little violent towards himself, it's something he does and struggles with but it happens. he hits himself, aggressively taps his chest and holds his breath.

jason tops up the white dye in his hair because in his eyes, it's an "irregular amount" of his hair is white

dick and tim both struggle with their body image, and subsequently their eating issues. tim, partially, is because he just straight up forgets to eat, and it becomes this cycle and habit.

cass gets immensely frustrated when she cannot communicate her ideas because she cannot verbalise them. often, she'll just walk off when no one is fully understanding her because he gets so agitated.

dick has messy handwriting. in the time he did spend in school, teachers were always on his case about it. it's almost illegible.

damian gets extremely overwhelmed in social situations; especially galas. he ends up leaving (jason tells people 'yeah it's his bedtime') and going to sit with titus, or another one of his animals in his room to calm down. he usually calms down by reading, or watching the sky.

barbara straight up just can't go some places. being in a wheelchair means anywhere that doesn't have good enough accessibility? she can't get in. she misses out on so much because there isn't a ramp, or elevator access, or even just fucking lowered door handles. and it pisses her off. obviously.

they're just people. people with a lot going on in their lives but they're still just people. always just people.

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 3: A Sin to Hang

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Chapter Summary: A pleasant afternoon turns into a delightful evening as you and Arthur exchange some intimate confessions.

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Clothed Sex, Vaginal Sex, Pet Name, Mentions of Masturbation Voyeurism and Oral Sex, Teasing, Swearing, Touch-Starved Arthur Morgan

AO3 Link

A/N: This one's just smut. Necessary smut! Things get a lot more intimate!

You should’ve known that satisfying Arthur Morgan wouldn’t be as easy as pie.

As you serve him another slice, you notice the pie you baked earlier now has a 4 o’clock shape, the apple filling spilling over the bottom of the round plate. You wonder how he can eat so much dessert after such a hearty dinner, even for a man of such build.

“This is the best pie I’ve ever had, missy.” Arthur is swift to gobble another bite, downing it with a sip of his whiskey.

“It’s my grandma’s recipe.” You watch attentively as he devours your baking while nibbling on one of the pieces of chocolate Arthur brought you. You hadn’t had some in months and the sweet familiar taste comforts you after such an unpredictable day.

You both eat the dessert each of you got for the other, enjoying your mutually pleasant company in silence as you’re now both perfectly at ease. The night sky has just settled over the horizon and you hear distant whippoorwills outside. Amber and Titus are now sheltered on the stable outback, enjoying the comfort that Arthur spent all day renovating.

Arthur is now wearing a plain white shirt, a spare one he had on his horse since the blue one he wore during the day was stained with your wetness during the afternoon’s recreations. You were insistent to wash it before dinner and now you watch as it dries on the clothesline outside from your living room window.

After a short while, the inevitable happens. Before reaching his mouth, a piece of apple filling lands right on the pristine white on the middle of his shirt. You both chuckle as Arthur reaches for the fallen chunk with his fingers, quickly bringing it to its destination as he places it on his tongue, swallowing as he savors its sweet taste. He licks his fingers, adamant about not letting anything go to waste.

“I’ll get a towel.” You head to the kitchen and wet a tea towel on your sink, hoping to reach him in time before the shirt stains. You swipe the remaining filling off, rubbing at the smudge to try to erase it. It soon becomes apparent the effort is pointless. Another shirt is ruined.

Arthur watches your face attentively as you attempt to salvage it, his chest getting wet as you damp the shirt with the towel. When you let out a frustrated sigh, he places a hand on your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “It’s no use, darling.”

You’re stubborn enough to keep going. “You don’t happen to have another shirt on your saddle, do you?”

“I’m afraid we’ve ruined all the ones I have.”

You both laugh as Arthur’s thumb continues his motion, moving up as your smile widens. You stop cleaning his shirt, setting the towel down on the table, smoothing the wet spot with your fingers as you try to dry it out. Arthur’s free hand snatches yours away, lifting its back up to his lips to plant a soft kiss as you fix your sight on each other’s gaze. He then smoothly pulls your jaw down, leaning in the rest of the way until he finally kisses you languidly. Then he’s brave enough to part your lips, deepening the kiss as his other hand pulls the rest of your body clumsily onto his lap, a place that’s becoming all too familiar and all too exciting for you.

You prop yourself on his thighs as he begins pulling you downwards into his embrace, eventually sneaking his tongue between your teeth. You find yourself sinking into him while beginning to float all at once.

As he gets more excited, his hands reach for your thighs and he caresses them as he did during the afternoon, before he moved to see if you were ready for his ministrations. Your hips are now intimately close to his and you feel him starting to tent underneath you.

You withdraw from his lips to speak, hoping he doesn’t take you right here and now. “Arthur, the dishes.”

He reaches for your jaw, a subpar replacement for your lips. “What about them?”

“Let me finish them before we start.”

He heads for the crook of your neck. “We don’t need them clean for what we’re doing, darling.”

You let out a scoff. “I hate leaving the kitchen messy overnight.” You straddle his face between your hands. ”You can have me after.”

“You promise?” He’s almost pouting and it’s endearing.

“Yeah, I promise.”

His scowl reaches your lips as he wrings from you a short but passionate kiss before he lets you off his lap. You break from his embrace as you head to the kitchen.

“Bring me the rest of the plates, would you?” You begin to scrub one of the pans you used to make dinner.

He exhales in disappointment. “Yes, ma’am.”

Arthur begins to do as he’s asked, clearing the table a few dishes at a time, brushing sideways behind you as he places them by your side. You notice he gets a little closer with each brush, a move that is certainly intentional, making you giddy. You pretend to ignore his attempts to rattle you, which makes him lean closer every time. He eventually runs out of plates to bring you.

“Can you help me out and dry the washed plates, please?” Your tone is of obliviousness.

Another exhale. “Yes, ma’am.”

He somehow still finds a way to keep brushing past you as he begins to put away the plates and cutlery in their cabinets. You’re doing the final dishes when he finally places his last one, brushing past you again but stopping with his body front facing your back. You feel him sinking into you slowly, putting his hands on your shoulders before he suggestively runs them down your arms, stopping at your bent elbows before he slides them downwards to your waist, leaving their warmth on your hips.

“I haven’t finished the dishes yet, Arthur,” you say almost as a reprimand. You know that he’s fully impatient now, but you’re not above teasing him further.

“I don’t think I can wait, missy.” He lowers his lips to kiss that magical spot below your ear and you try to fight the urge to let your head fall back. He continues to rummage his hands where he pleases, moving from the width of your hips to the small of your back and then forward to the curve of your belly. You can’t be sure if the plate on your hand is already clean as you become increasingly distracted, so you keep scrubbing, applying more pressure as he does the same to you.

“I’m almost done.” A few dishes still remain.

“You better be.” His face creeps up on your collarbone and you feel his hot breath on your neck, the sensation so intoxicating you're surprised when his fingers reach the underside of your breasts. You respond by holding your own breath but when he finally cups them fully in his palms you can’t help but let out a ragged sigh. When he lightly squeezes them, your sharp whimper is perceptibly loud and it echoes directly into his ear.

He purrs in response. “Enjoying this, are we?”

You’re so delighted to be in his embrace you stop moving your hands, savoring as he encapsulates your frame. This only encourages him further and he pushes his whole torso onto your back, taking a deep breath to smell your hair as he switches sides, soon nibbling at your other ear. His hips lean heavily into yours and, even with the fabric of your skirt and his pants in the way, you feel his hard bulge pressing against your ass, sending a hot wave of desire through your whole body.

Arthur suddenly begins to suck the spot below your ear, which makes you let out another gasp, making him more determined, tightening his hold of your bosoms. You continue to fail at remaining quiet, especially when you begin to feel him rubbing himself over your, strategically moving his pelvis to create enough friction to alleviate his growing stiffness. You lean your hands over the edge of the sink to ground yourself as you lift your buttocks higher to meet his grinding, chasing the euphoria of the moment. He responds by letting out a long-repressed groan, making his chest vibrate against your back. It feels too good not to keep pressing against him, especially as the movements become less restrained.

“You know, I could just come like this,” he admits. The image is heavy fuel to the fire in your core and you feel yourself twitching as you become wetter. “Is that what you want?”

Your instinct is to immediately say yes. You imagine him rocking into you vigorously, clutching your hips to keep them from moving. You’d hear his obscene groans directly in your ear as he brings himself closer to release, making you reach underneath your skirt to find some consolation. You figure you’d unravel by the sounds he would make as he’d make a mess on his jeans, another garment to wash before your sinfulness hangs in the clothesline to dry again.

But then you think of the past few days, how you had touched yourself to the idea of him bringing you to the edge while sinking into you, his thick length the reason you came apart. The one thing that you didn't get on the night you met. It has nagged you too much not to recall it now.

You seem to get lost in your reasoning as he's insistent to ask you again. “Is that what you want, missy?”

You grip the stone of the sink tighter, scared you’ll disappoint him with your answer. “I’m sorry, Arthur. No.” Your voice quietens at the end.

He hears you perfectly though and upon your last word he stops his grinding, reaching for your waist before he turns you around so he can look at you, concern in his eyes. “What is it that you want then?” He can tell you have something on your mind as he tightens his hands on your hips, kissing your jaw lightly to put you at ease. “Tell me what you want and I'll do it.”

You’re a little reticent to tell him, but he seems sincerely interested in your pleasure. He leans his lips into your neck so you take the chance to whisper into his ear. “I need you inside me.”

He hums at your suggestion. “Yeah?” He resumes rolling his hips lazily. “What else?”

You trail his ear as he deepens his hold on you, placing his palms on your back. “I need you to make me come.”

He rises to look at your face, a slight smirk on his lips. “You wanna come around my cock, huh?”

You nod gently, palming the side of one of his moving thighs.

He hovers over your lips. "Naughty little thing, ain't ya?" You close the gap between your mouths, answering his question affirmatively.

Arthur finally gives you the ardent kiss you seek, pulling you closer as his hands run down to your ass, grabbing at you desperately. His rutting fastens as you thrust yourself into him as well, both of you needy with unashamed desire. Your hands are still wet and soapy from the dishes but you sink them onto his shoulder blades with gusto, further ruining his stained shirt. When you feel his erection poking into your thigh, you lean crudely into his center so it prods directly on your pulsing core. The blinding stimulation frees from you your biggest moan of the night.

He lets go of your lips to look at you again, not pausing his movements for a second. "Maybe we should stop." Neither of you do.

“What for?” You’re too lost to understand why.

"You haven't finished the dishes yet, missy." He lands his joke with a satisfying grin.

You respond with a hiccuped sneer. "I don't care, Arthur."

"I thought you didn't like messes." He sinks into your neck again.

You like to fight fire with fire. "Why don't you make a mess of me again and we find out?" Your tone is more challenging than humorous.

He suddenly stops his hips as he raises his head and you see his gaze is completely overcome with lust now. “Let’s get you out of these clothes then. Before you have to wash them too.”

Arthur practically drags you to the bedroom before he sits on the bed, working quickly to remove your blouse while you begin to undo your skirt for the second time today.

“You sure you’re ready again, missy? You’re not sore from this afternoon?” He looks at you while he slides the top from your shoulders.

You shake your head, desperate to relieve your arousal again. The pleasure he gave you a few hours ago seems to have been wiped from your memory as you’re more than ready for another round. “I need you, Arthur.”

Your skirt finally falls on the floor on top of the blouse and you feel Arthur pulling at your drawers until they reach your ankles. You step out of them while you remove your chemise.

His eyes are now facing your bare folds and he parts them lightly to see how aroused you already are. “Hmm. So wet already.” He reaches for your hips, pushing you on top of him again. ”Such a good girl for me.” He clasps your shoulders as he swiftly swaddles you down to lay you flat on the bed, pressing his chest against yours before he lands on his feet, already working his damp shirt.

You watch as Arthur unbuckles himself, removing his boots before letting his pants fall next to your clothes. His already stiff length is protruding inside his underpants, now considerably stained, no doubt the result of his fervent grinding on you. It dismays you when he doesn't remove his shaft right away. Instead, he climbs on top of you on the bed, caging you beneath him, being careful enough to keep his hips from touching you.

"What was it you wanted again, darling?" He leans down for a quick kiss.

"You inside me." You reach for his shoulders, trying to force him to come down on you.

“And how much do you want it, missy?” He starts pecking your collarbone.

“So much, Arthur.” You're growing uncomfortably desperate, so you jolt your hips trying to try to meet his.

He chuckles. "I can see that. Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

How does he know, you wonder. "Yeah." You try to reach his waist again.

"When?"

"Every day." You thrust again.

He looks up at you. "Every day, huh? What did you think about?" There's a snooty smirk forming on his face.

“I thought about you being inside me.” Your tone reeks of impatience as you become frustrated by his unyieldingness. You hook one of your legs around his back but he doesn't give in.

"Yeah, and did you come?" He sounds and looks beyond pleased with your confession.

"Every time." You remember that to get to a man you get through his ego. "Some days more than once." Your other leg joins the other and it manages to lower him a bit, his undergarment slightly brushing your core.

He fixes his greedy eyes on you. "On which days, missy?"

You deliver your coup de grace. "All of them."

"Oh, you're killing me." He succumbs fully to the pressure now, not just of your insistence but of his throbbing cock, reaching for your warmth to appease the unbearable ache inflamed by your words. He sinks into your neck as he writhes you hungrily, his covered erection rubbing your folds apart, exposing your swollen clit to his frenzied movements as you begin to lose composure.

"Arthur, I need you inside me!"

He fastens his squirming as you feel him twitching at your words. "We'll get there, missy."

"I won't last long!" You cry out petulantly, feeling pathetic that you're this aroused after what you got this afternoon.

You get his attention as he surfaces, swiping your lips with his thumb. "Well, let's make sure your dreams come true then."

It's pure torture when Arthur stops moving, lifting his whole upper body as he kneels by your thighs, towering over you as you watch him lowering his underpants to let out his fully hard cock, its head beading, begging for attention. Your hips jolt reflexively at the sight, unable to do much under his weight. He reaches for his shaft to pump a few lazy strokes to smear it with his precum as his thumb works the head. He continues even when he lifts one knee at a time to remove the garment, releasing a few huffs of gratification.

"You ready to take me?" He gets faster as his hand glides easier around its member.

"God, yes! Arthur!" Your whole body moves with restlessness as you clutch the sheets beneath you. "Inside!"

He moves his free hand to part your legs, placing a knee between them as he curls one of your legs around his back. His other knee joins the other as he bends your other leg to make you open wide for him. "I'm gonna tell you a secret." He bends downwards to place his smeared head at your entrance as you dig your nails into the white cotton threads. He kisses your lips annoyingly tame. "Wanna hear it?"

Your shaking turns into a nod. "Yes!"

He guides his cock upwards to reach your clit, the move so intense you bolt your head sideways and close your eyes. Arthur's hand reaches your cheek to make sure you look at him, his fingers smelling of his heat. You open your mouth as you feel his hardness return to your entrance, ready to swallow him whole.

He delivers his own finishing blow. "I touched myself thinking about you too."

Arthur begins to enter you, slow but steady, and you suddenly think you're about to black out, your senses clouded by the intensity of the moment as you take in his cock and his words. The thought that he chased his pleasure thinking about you just like you thought about him sends you flying, crashing as you begin to feel him filling you, reaching your spot of untamed delight. You swap the grasp of the flimsy sheets for the strength of his shoulders, as he deepens himself into you, recreating the dream you kept yearning for in the past few days.

He begins to share his own dream. "Thought about you taking me like this too," he reveals through ragged breaths that fall on your mouth. "All warm and tight. Just for me." He steadies himself on his elbows as his legs begin to tremble slightly. "Here to feed me and save me. So good for me." His hands reach for your shoulders as he begins to angle down further. "An angel from heaven." You would think this corny if you could think. "Sent down to fuck me."

You feel your chest heaving with what must be sharps wails but you're only able to hear the words coming out of his mouth, trembling at his every remark. When you finally feel him reach your hilt, you're amazed you haven't finished yet, blindsided by something beyond any of your waking fantasies.

Arthur stills himself as he lets you adjust to his significant size, toying with your bottom lip as he bottoms out. “Oh, fuck, you fit me so well, missy.”

You ache at the lack of his thrusts, so you do some of your own. "Arthur!" You tell him something you've never told another man in bed. "Please!"

He must notice the desperation in your eyes and your voice because he budges, rolling out a slow buck of his hips. "This what you want, angel?" Your moan comes from deep in your throat. "For me to fuck you?" Another roll. "My perfect fucking angel." He begins to set a rhythmic languid pace as he lowers his mouth to one of your breasts, teasing your other one with his fingers. His broken name begins to echo throughout the room, each time followed by one of his mind-numbing thrusts. You tighten the hold of your hands and legs around him, trying to consume a body almost double your size, convinced to devour him whole.

You're disheartened when he stops telling you of his time away. "How'd you have me? In your touch?" You fail to form comprehensible sentences.

Somehow he understands you. "Thought about you stroking my cock with your pretty little fingers. Like you did the other day by the fire." He keeps pecking your tit as he speaks in short bursts, his breath hitching further. "That it was your hand instead of mine. At the end of the day. On my bed. In my tent." His tongue slides in and out of his mouth to rile you up. "A few times I had to stop. By the road. Behind a tree."

You're so close now, you can feel it. If only he keeps talking. You shout his name again, hoping he continues. He does. "Thought about your mouth. Sucking. On your knees." His own knees are now bouncing on the mattress as his motions become more erratic. "One time. At the farrier. Had to go outside. Thinking of you. Your hand and your mouth. Couldn't help it. A lady saw me. Didn't say nothing. Just left." He sucks on your nipple for a moment. "But that's not how I ended."

"How?" you let out between moans.

"I was inside you. Like this. Tight. So fucking tight." He lifts his head and you find his gaze. "Squeezing my cock. Hard." He licks his lips, setting now a dramatic pace as he steers his cock down to hit the sacred spot inside you again and again. "Need you to repeat it, missy." He tries to kiss you as you grit your teeth. “Need you to be a good girl for me.”

Nothing about what happens next is calm or collected as you near the point of no return, shutting your eyes closed as his request reaches your ears. You must look hysterical as your whole body braces for the inevitable, already eclipsing this afternoon's debauchery. You undulate carelessly under the confinement of his frame as his cock slams into you with unrelenting force.

"Come around me, girl." He feels your muscles clenching rapidly around him. "Like that. Yeah." Animalistic grunts cascade from his words. "Just like that. Come for me." You feel your muscles begin to lose any control they have left. "Come on, missy. Do this for me. Be my pretty little angel." His wish is granted as you finally reach the edge, turning both your lewd fantasies into delectable reality as you come around him.

Your husband's bed creaks loudly under you as you ascend a heaven he never even prayed for you, wrapped around another man as he calls you his angel.

"Oh, fuck, missy. Fuck." Arthur's plunges get brusque as your climax makes him approach his own, gripping your hips tightly as you toss uncontrollably from the overwhelming sensation. He revels in your oversensitive state as you attempt to subdue his force unsuccessfully. His moans start getting louder as yours subside. You open your eyes to see his face recoiling in ecstasy as he struggles to hold on.

A few seconds later he finally removes his cock from you as he reaches the finish line, stroking himself to completion, slathering your stomach with his warm white spend, marking you with his sinful elation.

This is the second time now he has climaxed on you, but this time he releases himself with more composure, lasting longer, the effort of someone regaining his footing on a forgotten skill. You can tell this round was more enjoyable to him, like it was to you, both of you enraptured by the bliss of intimacy.

"Christ, missy." He opens his eyes as he continues to hold himself, running on empty. He exhales a cackle as he looks down at you, both of you already able to breathe again. "You look a fright, darling. Let's get you cleaned up." Arthur gets up to reach for the towel hanging from your vanity before nestling between your thighs again, your legs still open from exhaustion. He begins to clean the spill he made with smooth wipes.

"Now that's the kind of mess I like," you joke, watching his delicate handling of your skin. He chuckles as he finishes, throwing the towel on the floor. Another sin to hang on the clothesline.

Arthur leans over to your side, lying next to you as you embrace him, settling your head over his chest. You hear his heartbeat return to its usual crawl underneath you as he soothes your stilling sweaty back.

"That was something else, Y/N."

You leap at your name and you turn your head to see his lashes looking down at you. "Yeah?"

"Really something."

"For me too," you finally say, forming a smile. "Thank you."

He rubs the thumb on your back more noticeably. "No. Thank you, angel." He places a soft kiss on your temple.

You wait for a moment before you're bold enough to ask. "Did you really think about me? Like that? These past few days?"

"Yeah." He pauses for a moment before he words his confession. "I- I haven't been with someone else… for a while now. Like we've been." It pains him to admit it. "I guess I'd forgotten what it was like until the other day."

You try to set him at ease with your own admission. "Out here, by myself. It gets lonely too."

Arthur's lips stretch shyly from your empathy before he places another chaste kiss on your forehead, relieved to find solace in you. He leaves his lips there as you two savor the closeness neither of you has had recently.

When Arthur is relaxed enough to feel the weight of sleep bearing down on him, he's careful to prop you on a pillow, thinking you feel the heaviness settling in too, reaching stealthily down for the quilt. He begins to cover you when he sees you're still very much awake.

You prop yourself up on a bent elbow. "At the farrier? Really?"

He sighs heavily as he realizes he still has plenty to put up with before he gets you to sleep.

-

A/N: Chapter 4 coming very very soon!

[strawberrygiorno]

A cool thing about Titus' little walk at the start of conversation that I haven't talked about yet is the way it makes the game more immersive by giving the player a reason to be frustrated by him. He's the only character whose opening line you can't skip, and you have to talk with him several times throughout the investigation. After a while, those few seconds you're forced to wait whenever you need to talk to him get REALLY annoying, which coincides nicely with how Harry is *also* getting more frustrated with him as he refuses to cooperate.