#using both he/him and they/them pronouns for them

[cameronspecial]

we all kmow drew loves to read and staying in, let’s make Dad!Drew staying in for the weekend and read to his 2 yo daughter and everything (hanging out, taking cute pics, doing her hair, play house) while reader going out with her friends and she felt a little guilty but he assured her that he loves spending time with their baby, so she should stop worrying.

Me And My Lady

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Suggestion of Sex At The End

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.7K

Masterlist

“You be Ken, Daddy, and I be Chelsea,” Elizabeth orders, handing her father the doll. Most kids are obsessed with the titular character of Barbibe; however, Drew’s daughter loves her Chelsea doll with a passion. He takes it without hesitation, “'Cause I'm just Ken, anywhere else I'd be a ten. Is it my destiny to live and die a life of blonde fragility?” The singing goes over his daughter’s head and she begins the dialogue of the game. He isn’t too sure what exactly is going on; only catching every other word. He does hear cheating and divorce though, so he makes a mental note to ask Y/N if she has been watching Real Housewives with their daughter again. 

Around half an hour later, the young girl complains about being hungry, so the two of them get to cook dinner. He watches as the small hand grips the spatula and waves it back and forward, spreading tomato sauce over the lasagna slices. She accidentally yanks the utensil upward, which causes a splash of red to land on her nose. Drew laughs and Elizabeth goes crossed eyes to try to see what he is laughing at. This makes him laugh even harder and she joins in on the cheery mood. He takes the phone out, letting her put some sauce on his nose and angling the camera at both of them. They make a funny face and he takes multiple pictures. After their small photo shoot, the two of them finish making the lasagna and eat up their reward for their effort. He checks the time to see that it is the little one’s bedtime soon. “It’s bath time,” he announces. Excitement crosses her face because she loves being in the water. He helps her out of the chair and chuckles when she rushes to the bathroom. “Come on, Daddy,” she beckons from the other room. He jogs after her to find her sorting through her toys already, trying to figure out which one she wants to play with. The one thing she hates about bathtime is the three toys limit. 

He steps over the toys and plugs the drain so the tub will fill when he turns the tap on. As the water begins to occupy the hollow porcelain, Drew turns to his daughter and opens the cabinet beside the bath. “Do you want bubbles and what bath bomb do you want?” he questions. She looks up from her toys and examines the choices, “Can I use one of Mommy’s?” The cabinet is filled with bubbles for both Y/N and Elizabeth, but the bath bombs are divided between the two of them. Elizabeth’s are colourful and shaped in different forms, such as cats, unicorns, or dogs, while Y/N’s are more focused on the scents so they are less colourful and just round. Knowing his wife wouldn’t mind sharing, he nods. “Bubbles, please, and that one,” she answers, pointing to the light pink bath bomb that smells of roses. Drew grabs both of the chosen items, “Those are fine choices, My Lady.” Elizabeth giggles at the funny accent he uses and accepts the round object he hands her, dropping it into the tub when he instructs her to. 

Once the bubbles are in and the water is at an appropriate height, he helps her undress and sets her into the tub. He hands her the duck, the mermaid, and the boat she chose to play with, accepting the mermaid she gave him. “And we can swim all night together,” she recounts. The duck slaps against the water under the grip of the daughter. The force produces a large splash that hits her father in the face. His face scrunches as the water makes contact and drips to his neck. “Hahaha,” she yells. Drew fakes an angry look, “Grrr. You think that’s funny, Little Lady?” He dips his hand in the water and flicks some at his daughter. Her giggles intensify and she tries to get away from the attack. The warmth soon leaves her, creating a shiver in her. Upon seeing this, the father grabs the ducky hood towel from the hook and takes her out of the tub. He wraps it around her and runs his hands up and down her arms to create some heat. The floor is soaked because of their playing, so he takes a second to dry it with the floor towel. 

With the floor clean, he carries her to her room and they get her changed into her pyjamas. He runs the towel over her hair to get out as much moisture as he can. He takes the brush she hands him and runs it through her hair to get rid of the knots created in the bath. “Do we want one braid or two?” he confirms. She hmms for a little, “Two Fwench braids, please.” He divides her hair into two and then separates one of the sections into three. He begins weaving the strands together like his wife taught him and sings with his daughter whilst she waits for him to finish. 

“There you go, My Lady. Why don’t you go choose a bedtime story?” he encourages, watching her run to her bookcase. She spends about a minute looking at her options before choosing a book he knows she is going to pick because it has been her choice for a few nights now. She patters back to him and he helps her onto her big girl bed. Her head rests against his shoulder. He pretends he doesn’t see her thumb in her mouth even though Y/N would kill him for not stopping it. He thumbs through the book to find where they stopped last night and clears his throat to start reading. “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” The English major side of him loves that his daughter likes to read Shakespeare. He is sure she doesn’t understand anything he reads, yet he knows she enjoys it because she is always so attentive and she’ll ask what certain words will mean. Drew looks past the inappropriate subject matter of Hamlet for the two-year-old because it feels like a bonding experience for him. It is one of the reasons why he isn’t angry at Y/N for watching Real Housewives with Elizabeth. 

Ten minutes later, he fills her head relax as it digs into his muscles. He closes the book and kisses her forehead. His hand raises the blanket to her chin, turning on the night light. “I love you, My Lady,” he whispers. 

———

Drew is reading through Othello because he thinks it is what he and Elizabeth should read after Hamlet. She’ll like the witches’ scene. He hears the front door open and close. He shuts the book, placing it on the side table as his wife walks through the bedroom door. “Hey, did she go down to sleep okay?” she mumbles. Her back is facing him whilst she takes off her jewellery and places them on her vanity. His head bobs and he gets behind her. He hands her a makeup wipe, resting his chin on her shoulder. He observes her nighttime routine through the mirror. His lips press against her skin, “Yep, everything went by smoothly. We are almost done with Act Three for Hamlet. I’m thinking about reading Othello with her next. How was the club?” She hesitates about answering. Y/N honestly had an amazing time tonight. It felt so great not having to worry about another human being for an evening. She loves Elizabeth, except being a mom can create a lot of pressure. Even though the night was a success, guilt overcomes her when she meets her husband’s eyes in the mirror. Drew hasn’t gone out at night with friends since he got back from work and she has been out three times. “It was fine,” she plays off, wiping her makeup off with the wipes he provided for her.

His brow arches at her tone, “Really, only fine? I saw Layton’s story. You looked like you were having a blast.” Her eyes fall to the vanity. “It must have been a trick of the light,” she shrugs. She goes for another wipe, except veiny hands stop her. He takes her hand in his and spins her so they face each other. Warm hands cup her cheek. “What’s wrong, My Queen? Why so glum?” he worries, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. 

Her breath tickles his skin as she exhales, “Do you hate that I make you stay at home with Elizabeth when I go out?” His head shakes like an earthquake and he brings her in for a hug. He can feel the guilt oozing out of her. “No, of course not. I love Elizabeth. Why would I hate it?”

“I’m not saying that you hate her. I just wonder if you resent me for going out with the girls, which means you have sole parent duties for a night. You haven’t had a night out since she was born. I mean you go out, but never by yourself so that I have sole parent duties.” 

“You have sole duties when I work.”

“That’s different though. Just because you love your job doesn’t mean it is a personal outing for pleasure.”

“True.” 

She looks back at him with a pout, his last words intensifying her emotions. “Please don’t feel bad about this. I may not go out anymore, but I never used to go out that much before anyways, right?” he reminds her. She thinks about it, realizing that it is true. Whenever he went out, it was always with her by his side. She meets his gaze, “You are saying that to make me feel better.” His head moves from side to side. “No. I love having nights with me and My Lady. I mean they are perfect when it is me, My Lady, and My Queen, but if I can give you a much-needed break, then I am more than happy to help you with that. If anything, Elizabeth is my excuse to stay in.” A grin starts to grow on his face when he sees the tips of her lips flip upwards. “Well, I’m glad I made you the perfect excuse,” she jokes. His laugh joins her lightened mood, “You made me the best excuse. Maybe we should start working on another one. You know, to solidify our excuse.” His eyebrows waggle and she pulls him into a kiss with a smirk. Their giggles mix in the air as he locks their bedroom door and she flops onto their bed. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[ebonytails]

maybe im just dumb but what is the difference between kris p and kris t?

TL;DR - They are Kris Dreemurr fictives and we needed a way to differentiate them

Oh you're not dumb, don't worry! It really is a little confusing because we haven't talked about who they or we are in a very long time. I'm going to talk a lot here so you have all the context you might need! If it''s too long,, the TL;DR above is the gist of it.

For context, we are a system! You can read about it a little in our FAQ

Kris T and Kris P are TWO Kris introjects/fictives of Kris Dreemurr from Deltarune in our system.

Originally we just had Kris T who split in Dec 2018, and then when Chapter 2 came out, Kris P came into our system after that. Of course at first, Kris T. was just "Kris", but since we had a double now, we had to figure out how to differentiate between the two. We knew another Kris fictive from a different system at this time who was nicknamed P. Kris by Susie in our system, and susie wanted to emphasize who she was talking about.

SO. As a small nod to that, everyone decided to nickname Kris P as Kris P, as an inverse of P. Kris.

A little convoluted, I know!

Besides being Kris introjects/fictives though, they also look different! I made some new drawings to try and showcase their differences if that helps :3?

Their dark world forms also look different. Kris T's is simpler, with a shiny soft cape, while Kris P's is more complicated with a hooded cape, which is also described as "very comfortable"

Here's a whole Toyhouse of images of how Kris T. looks like right now! There's also his reference ! vvv

Sorry if you weren't interested in our "life story"! They're not just random characterizations (they are alters), so I wasn't sure how to answer w/o giving you some sort of explanation.

They have their own sideblogs, so if you have specific questions directed towards them, you can always ask here because we'll see it better, or you can send them an ask in their own blogs. Kris T's is @kristalpepsi, and Kris P's is @itswhattheycallyou

[orbital-inclination]

Moltendreams - Error Sans Alias - ??? Pronouns: he/him, they/them Personality: Petty, holds a mean grudge, Big Tsundere, Complete Shut-in, Quick Tempered and Moody, fanatic with his interests, externally aggressive when in actuality he is quite shy. An absolute troll. His favorite passtime is messing with others. Paradoxically touch starved and suffers from haphephobia. Reckless with his own well being.

This variant of Error is capable of both love and compassion, he just hides it under a grumpy exterior and several layers of denial and self-destructive dogma. Other Notes:

He is reluctant to harm Papyrus directly, and will generally avoid encounters with him in any given AU.

Had a good relationship with his dad/W.D Gaster, actually.

Relates to "pest" pets; rats, mice, snakes, spiders, beetles, he loves them all.

Would have a pet rat of his own if he wasn't afraid of it shocking itself by chewing on his wires.

His favorite kind of chocolate is mixed with a hazelnut filling.

Considers Frisk to be a younger sibling.

-More Info undercut! -

Abilities: Error uses wire instead of string. Wire and summoned attacks can and do hold an electric charge. His presence alone messes with electronic devices. Residents of a particular AU may get a few minutes or seconds of warning as sweaters get staticy, computer screens glitch out, and anything with a battery spontaneously dies or gets super charged. By creating a circle of alternating RED and CYAN bones, Error can create a sort of reverse faraday cage. While Error can produce electricity, he can't directly control the voltage. He can only hope to direct it. If you do touch him, you will find his clothes zappy with static. Do NOT attempt to fight him in humid or watery environments for, hopefully, obvious reasons.

About: Fed up with the anomaly's time looping shenanigans and watching his family torn apart, Sans injected himself with modified DETERMINATION magic and began messing with things he really had no business messing with: his late father's research, all in the hope of separating the anomaly from Frisk. He wanted to save the kid too. But something went catastrophically wrong and as a result he was ripped from reality, and caught in the space in-between. Eventually, he escaped but not unscathed. Error doesn't remember much, he doesn't remember the events described above, at all, but has vague memories of Papyrus, Frisk and his father. They were good memories. He misses them. He can't find his original AU and secretly fears it may have been the first world he destroyed.

He is still looking for it.

Outcode Politics: Error views all outcodes the same way he views every iteration of the original timeline that even slightly deviates: as glitches to be terminated. Bugs in the code he needs to hammer out before it all goes to hell. Error believes that by destroying deviating timelines and AUs, he is preserving the original. He is “saving’’ it by trimming the branches back. Despite his position as the self proclaimed Destroyer, Error is not above biases and making exceptions. 

Error believes he is one of the glitches in the code that must be destroyed, but he won’t let just anyone dust him for good. Ultimately, he wants someone in his family to do it. That is, if he can find them first. Error has a different view on the Spirits of Creation that Fable/Ink does. (Spirits of Creation are in-universe term and stand-in for the creator of an AU). He calls them eldritch parasites. Abominations that should be avoided at all costs. And absolutely should not be encouraged or interacted with. Though he won't admit it out loud, Error is terrified of them. OG Error @.LoverofPiggies/CrayonQueen) Moltendreams @.me

[chosokamosbf]

⋆L⋆I⋆G⋆H⋆T⋆H⋆E⋆A⋆D⋆E⋆D⋆

☆ 18+ only/no minors. | jason todd x male! reader.

SUMMARY: a nsft fic where jason puts his boyfriend into a chokehold. WARNINGs: 18+, established relationship, choking, m! sub! reader, dom! jason, (reader receiving) light degradation, overstimulation. WORD COUNT 700+ NOTEs: second person & no plot. insert/reader is a woozy in this one sooo they act a bit "silly." ["Stupid/pretty boy," and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

Your pants are caught around your knees; everything else is pushed aside to the barest amount so the desperation leaking in between an otherwise gentle make-out wouldn't have been left unattended. His boxers are ruined—stripped right to his thighs after a near hour or so of caged between them and the man sitting on his lap.

His head was resting in the crook of your neck the whole time, so every hitch in it was caught straight away whenever you had to adjust your sitting.

Whatever movie was playing ended long ago, and now some senseless drama is playing on mute.

You don't know how long you've been doing this.

He hasn't let you move much to even see the clock sitting by on the nightstand. Your only sense of passing time other than the building ache is how the sun is now descending over the city and, in turn, your two's little slice of paradise of a mediocre apartment. It cascades on one side of the room in a dark orange glow after hours of singing in a brighter tone through a small opening in the curtains.

It's all fun and games with someone with a trunk load of stamina until your endless pleas have gotten your eyes rolled back to the very edge, a hazy mind overwhelmed with every single sensation. It's almost painful, even.

Your stomach convulses as you come over and over on his cock while you're stuck being pulled back on it by the hip. His breaths are coming out in heated pants as he bottoms out in you again, pressed against your back like he's using you for support.

Words almost don't process through the fog. "You like this, huh? Fuckin' nasty." 

"Yeaa—yeah. Love it so much—love you. It feels so... so good."

Jason doesn't want to hold it in, so he doesn't—and so a snort carries through before he's mimicking how your voice slurs. He barely gets through his sentence before laughter bubbles up, and his chest is softly trembling against your back from the restraint.

"Awh, you looove me? Stupid boy's drunk on some dick."

An arm braces itself right next to yours, and then a hand toys and intertwines the tips of both your fingers.

The other hand wraps around your jaw to turn your face to the side, and he doesn't bother containing the smile that comes with watching the way you have to crane your head to meet his gaze. The few tears streaming down your face catch what little light is still in the room.

He presses a kiss against your own lips, and it ends right after so he can dry your face with his sleeve. That arm wraps around your neck to keep you against him—make you feel how fast the pace of his heart is through the fabric.

The thrusts of his hips into yours stutter, and he uses those few moments of peace to round his arm further off, bit by bit, so his hand can squeeze nicely around you. His teeth catch on his bottom lip, almost slipping through an old cut on it as he tries to muffle some groans.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as most thoughts fade into the background with the fleeting air.

Jason presses down on the evident bulge in your lower stomach where his cock shows through, and he rubs it gently, knowing how overstimulated you have to be by now. Your body retracts back into his, moving away from the assaulting hand, and he just laughs despite his sore throat.

And he tries to make sure you share the feeling by tightening the grip around your throat.

Slowly, he settles you on your stomach.

He keeps your bottom half propped up by the knees, your legs pressed together so he can push in deep still. The arm holding the two of you up only seconds ago traces your back to rub rough calluses at the tense muscles building up around the top. He keeps your face from getting buried in the sheets and listens close to every sound that comes from the drooling mouth.

"C'mon." His voice trails out into a rough drawl, making sure you take every inch. "Be a good boy and cum f'me again, okay?"

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

smut ,Joe liebgot and the reader dry humping and slightly pleasing eachother in there foxhole in the cold

Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Anon, I loved this prompt! Thank you! I hope you enjoy it! ;)

Warnings: 18+ content sorta, dry humping, making-out, cursing, she/her pronouns, 1st person pov (female).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: This was fun to write and I enjoyed the idea a lot! Hope y'all enjoy it! Please comment, like, reblog :) :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another gust of wind lifts the tarp covering the top of our foxhole, blasting cold, wet air around us effectively stealing what little warmth we'd managed build up around ourselves.

"Goddamn it! When this is over, I never want to see the rain or snow ever again." I grumble, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, but it's damp and can only do so much.

"Quit bitching, you're ruining the mood." Liebgott smirks at the glare I shoot him.

"Fuck you." Any venom I have in my voice is lost as my teeth chatter.

"Would love to, but it's too cold." I see him shiver slightly.

"Glad to know that's the only reason." I roll my eyes.

"Course it is." He shoots me a wink and I feel a little bit of heat crawl up my neck and cheeks. Suddenly I'm thankful it's pitch black right now so he can't see my blush.

"Shut up." I mutter half heartedly, shoving his shoulder before attempting to get comfortable next to him. We are silent for a few minutes as, I assume, we try to get semi warm enough to doze a little until he speaks again.

"You know...sharing body heat is a great way to get warm." His voice is low but the words bounce around us on the wind. Again, I send a thank you to the universe that he can't see how flushed I am. I turn my head to tell him to shut up again and find his eyes already on me. The heat in his eyes has the words dying on my tongue.

"What?" Is all I can manage to get out, which I mentally kick myself for. Real smooth. His hand slips out from under his own blanket and grabs mine, tugging me towards him.

"Come here." He moves me around like I'm his own personal ragdoll, rearranging our blankets so one's over the top of our heads and shoulders and the other is around my back with the ends tucked behind him. The new position has be straddling his lap, our bodies centimeters away and our faces so close we are sharing each others breathes. I can feel his hands rubbing up and down my thighs, squeezing my hips every other time. My own arms are draped around his shoulders.

Joe nudges my nose with his. "Told you this would be warmer." All I can do is nod, making him smirk. "I don't know about you, but my lips are still cold."

At his words my eyes drop down to his lips and watch as his tongue runs over them, then look back to his eyes that haven't lost their heat. I make the split second decision to worry about the consequences and what-ifs at a later date and close the gap between us. He eagerly kisses me back, moving one hand to the back of my neck to hold my head where he wants it, while the other wraps around my waist to keep me flush against him.

Our tongues meet and we enjoy a long exploration of each others mouths; licking and sucking and nipping. After a particularly sharp bite on my bottom lip, I grind down onto his lap and then groan at the feel of his growing erection beneath me. I grind down again and this time Joe groans with me.

"Do it again, baby." He pleads against my lips. When I do he kisses me again to muffle the noises we make. I move one of my hands to grip his upper arm tightly to help my leverage and swivel my hips until I find the angle that gives us both the pleasure we need. Once I find that I set a hard pace that Joe eagerly lifts his hips to match.

Soon the cold around us is forgotten as we focus on keeping the other quiet and chasing the pleasure building inside us. Joe lets go of my neck and I feel both his hands grabbing my ass, using it to press me harder against him. My pace starts to become erratic.

"Fuck, I'm close Joe." Joe gives me a hard nip on my jawline and whispers in my ear.

"I got you, let go baby." My head turns to the side and I bite down hard on his shoulder, trying to hide my moan as much as possible. As I'm coming down from my high, I feel Joe's movements becoming more frantic. I turn my head away from his shoulder, nipping at the bit of flesh exposed on his neck and then his jawline.

Three thrusts later he stills beneath me, breathing heavily as he lets out curses and my name. We melt even more into each other, enjoying the post-orgasm bliss and warmth we created around us. Just as I'm drifting off, I feel Joe drop a kiss on the top of my head and my heart flutters.

But that's something to address at a later time.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Birthday Gifts | Choi Jongho

-> Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader

-> Request: From @/carpe-noctemxp. This is a repost from my old account.

-> Synopsis: Jongho celebrates your birthday with you.

-> Warnings: No use of Y/N or pronouns. Another birthday celebration fic. This was originally a timestamp but it ended up being longer than I expected

-> Word Count: 318

-> Requests: Open.

ATEEZ Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

You’d been able to sleep in thanks to having the day off work and hoped to sleep a little longer when Jongho came knocking loudly on your apartment door. You weren’t expecting him until this afternoon, him having schedules in the morning.  Upon opening the door, you noticed that he couldn't use the key you gave him because his hands were full with cake and gift bags.  

"They're not all from me," he mentioned as he walked past you and headed to the kitchen. He knew you would comment on him spending too much money on you if he hadn’t mentioned they weren’t all from him. “Most of them are from the guys. They couldn't wait until tonight to give them to you. They're so impatient.”  

After setting everything down on the counter, he handed you a small gift bag. "This one is from me, and you should open it first."  

Gratefully taking the bag, you opened it to find a jewellery box. Inside was a locket necklace with intricate designs on the front. Your heart swelled with love as you saw the two pictures of you and Jongho on the inside.  

Moving closer to him, you kissed his cheek. "Thank you. I love it so much."  

"Did you check the back?" he asks while unboxing the cake. Turning the locket over, you saw something etched into the back.  

"Thank you for being born," you read aloud with a laugh. It was a phrase Jongho has said to you since your first birthday together. "You’ll have to thank my parents for that," you teased.  

"I will, when we have dinner with them tonight," he replied with a smile, lighting the candle on the cake and singing happy birthday to you.  

The rest of the day was filled with opening gifts, enjoying cake and food, and cuddling on the couch while catching up on a k-drama you both loved. 

TAGGING: @staytiny2000 - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @rainydayteacups

@green-agent - @tinyelfperson – @hollxe1 – @deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3

@pinkies-things - @everythingboutkpop - @dancelikebutterflywings-library

Tag List Sign-Up

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 7: My House of Stone...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long i got such bad writers block Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

When Arthur didn’t show up after a few days, you tried to not let it get to you. He was a busy man, no doubt even more busy because of the job involving your husband. You ignored the fact that he proved that he would fight everything to come and see you, consequences be damned. It was almost out of character that he hadn’t come to see you, or had reached out to you in some way.

When a few more days passed with no sign of the outlaw, you found yourself going back over your last encounter, when he had taken you out on Bear. You don’t recall any hesitancy or doubt in his eyes when he was with you, or maybe you were too blind with your own desire to see it. That thought made you reel, panicking that you made him uncomfortable and scared him off. 

But you didn’t let that thought fester for too long. You spent your days doing menial tasks with no real passion, trying to just pass the time. It worked, mostly, but you were getting antsy. How you wished you had an easy way to leave the prison that had become the house. 

Even more days passed, each day becoming more and more anxiety ridden. Instead of worrying that you’d scared him off now, you were worried that he was dead, or in shackles, about to be hung up in the town square. Your nights were becoming restless, images of his dead body haunting you when you closed your eyes. You’d wake with bloodshot eyes, even more tired than you were when you went to bed. 

You eventually stopped counting the days, not wanting to know how long he’d been gone for. You tried to spend more and more time outside of the house, bringing blankets and books from Hans’ office to your garden, waiting to escape the confinement of the walls around you. It helped, for a bit, yet you still found your mind wandering, constantly worrying about Arthur. 

But no matter how hard you tried, you found that you couldn’t hate the man. Upset, sure, angry, definitely, but not hateful. No, your heart wouldn’t allow it. You were still in love with him, and the lack of contact from him was hurting you, both physically and mentally. It was hard to eat, hard to sleep, hard to find it in yourself to take care of your body. You knew it was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. He had wormed his way into your very being, and left a hole that couldn’t be fixed. You just hoped that he’d return soon and make you feel whole again. 

It was during this time that you decided to draft a letter to your family, hoping that it would alleviate the loneliness that was once removed by Arthur. You sat in Hans’ office, pen shaking in your hand as you stared at the blank piece of paper in front of you, the task proving to be more difficult than you imagined. It had been two years since you’d last spoken to them, and you had no idea what to say. How much was too much? How honest was too honest?

You decided to keep it simple, and you began to write. It took a few tries, but you eventually produced a letter that you were satisfied with. 

My dear family, 

I have missed you all, incredibly so. Words don’t even begin to do it justice. I apologize for not reaching out earlier, but my circumstances wouldn’t allow it. I do so hope to hear back from you, and perhaps have the pleasure of seeing each other in the flesh soon. 

Your daughter,

You finished it with your name, but just your first name. Tucking it into an envelope, you addressed it with the address Arthur had provided you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw Arthur’s handwriting, rereading the note he left you.

Making sure to leave the office as you found it, you made your way downstairs, setting the letter on the kitchen table, ready to grab for whenever you decided to go into town. You spent a few days at home after writing the letter, hoping that one night you’d hear the familiar hoofbeats of Bear, but were left disappointed each night. 

Eventually, though, you needed to leave, if just for a short bit of time. It had been roughly three weeks since you’d last left the house, and if you had to look at the same things again you were going to snap, leaving the house as a pile of ash. So, with a small purse with some cash, you took the letter and yourself and left. 

If it weren't for your current mindset, the walk to the main road would’ve been relaxing, enjoying the noises of animals and the cool breeze against your skin. But everything is annoying you now. The wind was causing your hair to blow in your face, and if you had to hear that birdsong one more time, you were going to lose it. Or maybe you’d already lost it. 

The sun blinded you as you left the shade of the thick forest, stepping out onto the main road. You always hated doing this, but you were desperate. Slowly, you began to walk towards Rhodes, keeping a close ear for any riders. 

It took a few minutes, but you eventually heard someone approaching from behind, and you perked up, putting on your friendliest face as you stopped and turned. It was a carriage, and you began to wave them down, but they ignored you, not even bothering to glance in your direction. Rude.

Still, you kept on, not letting one bad interaction deter you. A few more carriages and wagons passed, with similar responses. Everyone looked grim, you noticed, stone-faced and somber expressions. Now you were starting to feel dejected, and you debated just heading back to the house; you weren’t that far anyway. 

Before you could come to a decision, a single rider passed you, glancing at you even though you didn’t wave him down. Something like recognition flashed across his face, even though you’d never seen this man in your life. He had longer, black-brown hair that was tied into a small ponytail, with a mustache and goatee, and a bowler hat protecting his tanned skin. He had a blue denim jacket on, with a red handkerchief around his neck, and you noted that he was surprisingly well dressed for being an alone traveler on the road. 

“Mrs. Kerrigan?” He asked, almost in disbelief, like you were a creature from folklore, pulling his gray and white horse to a halt beside you. 

You braced yourself, ready to bolt as you stared at the man. “Yes?” You asked, suspicious. It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize who you were, but they’d never acted like they knew you personally. You dove into the deep recess of your brain trying to remember who he was, but drawing a blank; he was a stranger to you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, which was a tad bit off putting from a complete stranger. Still, you couldn't detect any malicious intent in his words.

Sighing, you answered truthfully. “I’m tryin’ to get to Rhodes. You… you don’t happen to be goin’ there, do you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered, truly sounding regretful, but then his face turned thoughtful. 

“Ah. No worries then. Have a good day.” 

You tried to continue moving, but his smooth voice made you halt again. “But it’s close enough. I can only bring you to the outskirts, though.”

“You’d do that?” You smiled when he nodded. “I can pay, too. Thank you, Mr…?”

“Escuella. But you can call me Javier.” He extended a hand to you, helping you on to the back of his horse. You sat sidesaddle, keeping an appropriate amount of distance between your bodies, your hands resting on his sides.

Javier. You remember Arthur telling you about someone with the same name, and although you highly doubted that this was the same Javier, you wished that he had a drawing of him. “Thank you, Javier.”

“Of course, Mrs. Kerrigan.” Javier gestured his horse forward, setting an easygoing pace; not too fast, not too slow. A small pang hit your heart as you remembered the last time you were on a horse, your body pressed up to Arthur’s, his rough voice in your ears, the playful glint in his eye. God, you missed him. 

“I’ll pay you when we get to town,” you repeated after a few minutes of riding, and you felt Javier chuckle. 

“I appreciate it, but I think Arthur would kill me.” Your blood ran cold, and your heart began to race just at the mention of him. So this was Javier, the one Arthur traveled with in the mountains to rescue John. It makes sense then, why he seemed to recognize you.

“Well, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” you commented. 

“He’s talked about me, then?”

“All good things,” you reassured, and he just shook his head, not believing you. You desperately wanted to ask him about Arthur, if he was alive or not, but you weren’t sure if any answer he gave you would hurt less. “Does… does he talk about me?”

Javier snorted. “Yes and no. He’ll talk about you, sometimes so much that we want to kill him, but then refuses to answer any of our questions. Some of us even doubted your existence,” he laughed, “but I’m glad to see that we’re wrong. You’ve made him real happy. I haven’t seen him this… optimistic in a long time.”

You were glad he was facing forward, so he couldn’t see the way those words broke you. Biting back tears, you kept your voice steady. “How is Arthur?”

“He’s fine?” He responded, very clearly confused as to why you didn’t know. “He’s been, well, ‘helping’ your husband.”

Oh. “So the names he got led to somethin’?” 

“Sure did. We were able to track down suppliers, and disrupt his business there. He’s yet to reach out for help, but Dutch doesn’t think it’ll be long now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” You weren’t lying. “But he’s well?” You couldn’t help but ask about him again. 

“Yes. It’s been a crazy couple of days, but we’re pulling through.”

Only a couple of days. You refrained from asking what he’d gotten up to earlier, not wanting to appear desperate, even if you were. “I’m glad. And don’t make me regret saying this, but if anyone ever needs a place to lie low for a bit, point ‘em towards my house. At least when my husband isn’t there.” Even though you’d barely met any of the members, you couldn’t help but feel protective over the gang because of how deeply Arthur cared about them. If there was anything you could do to help them, you would.

“I’ll be sure to let them know. Thank you.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Arthur was right about you; you’re too kind for this world.”

You murmured a small thanks, and the two of you fell into an easy silence for the rest of the ride. When the familiar outskirts of Rhodes appeared, you felt Javier begin to grow nervous, his head moving back and forth, like he was on the lookout for something. “We can stop here,” you said once you reached a long abandoned house, the yellow paint chipping and peeling. 

Red dust kicked up when your feet hit the ground, and you quickly took out a few bills, handing them to Javier. “Again, I can’t take this,” he held up a hand, a small smile on his face.

“I ain’t payin’ you for the ride, though. I payin’ you to deliver a message to Arthur,” you countered, but he didn’t relent. Sighing, you tucked them into the saddlebags before facing him with your hands on your hips. “Tell him to come see me. Please.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know. Do you have a ride back home?”

“I can arrange something’. Now go; you look uncomfortable just being here.”

He chuckled, not disagreeing with you. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kerrigan.”

“You too, Javier. Stay safe.”

He nodded, smiling kindly at you before turning, taking off back down the road you’d just been on. Turning toward the town, you began to make your way to the center of town, right to the post office in the railroad station.

It was eerily quiet, more like a ghost town than anything. There wasn’t a single soul lingering on the porches or the street, and the shutters of most of the buildings were shut, which was extremely unusual for the middle of the day on a weekday. There weren’t even any animals out; it was just you and the dust. 

After a few tense minutes of walking, you eventually climbed the stairs of the railroad station, the creak of the old wood almost making you jump. It was just as empty on the inside as it was outside, the other person in the building, the person behind the counter, who smiled tensely as you entered. 

“Good afternoon, missus,” he exclaimed, the chip in his voice far too forced. “Say, can’t say I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”

“You’ve probably met my husband, Mr. Kerrigan,” you responded, making your way to the counter, pulling the letter from your bag. 

“Ah yes. Well, how can I help you, Mrs. Kerrigan?”

You slid the letter across to him. “I’d like to send this, please.”

“Not a problem at all. That’ll be five cents.”

Sliding him a nickel from your bag, you looked around as he stamped the letter, putting it in the appropriate mailbox. “Is there anythin’ else I can help you with?”

“Why is it so… dead?” You glanced back at the man, who had visibly paled at your question. 

“Interesting choice of words, ma’am. Let’s just say we had an… incident yesterday. Nothing befitting a proper lady like yourself.” He explained, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Ominous. Realizing you weren’t going to get far with him, you wished him a good day before leaving. You made your way to the general store; Mr. Banks would let you know. 

The bell chimed as you entered, and you called out for the older gentleman, and you heard the sound of crashing from the back room, clearly scaring the poor man. A disheveled Mr. Banks peeked around the corner, visibly relaxing when he saw it was just you. You opened your mouth to try and apologize, but he cut you off. “You didn't bring that ‘deputy’ with ya, did you?” He asked, growing tense again.

“Arthur? No, he’s not with me.”

“Good. I’ll kill him on sight if he even dares to step foot in Rhodes again. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Physically, no. “Mr. Banks, what in the world-”

“Him and his buddies shot up the town yesterday. Killed the good Leigh Gray, Lord bless his soul,” he shuddered, and you halted in your tracks, your somewhat amused smile at his ramblings falling. 

“What?”

He pointed to a newspaper on the counter, and you cautiously stepped toward it. Bloodthirsty Gang Kills Dozens was the headline, a few paragraphs of text following below it. Your head spun at the new information, blocking out the words of Mr. Banks. You couldn’t gauge what you were feeling; you weren’t disgusted, or revolted, even though you knew you should be. You weren’t surprised; you knew that Arthur had done things, unspeakable things, and would continue to do so. You weren’t angry at what he did, but you were angry at him for putting himself in harm’s way like that. 

“I’ll take the paper,” you cut Mr. Banks off, sliding him a few bills, and he slid the paper to you. You barely mumbled out a ‘good day’ before you left, nose deep in the paper as you headed back to the railroad station, sitting on the bench waiting for the carriage services, and you read as you waited. 

You read all about the way the gang played both families, something you had no idea was happening. You weren’t hurt that he didn’t tell you; you knew that some things had to remain secrets. But you didn’t care much about the detail, eyes scanning for any telling of death or injury to the Van Der Linde gang. You knew that Javier probably didn’t lie to you, but you still needed to be sure. 

Your heart dropped when you saw that there was indeed one confirmed killing of a member of the Van Der Linde gang, but you didn’t recognize the description they provided. The others, it seemed, were still at large, and unhurt. Knowing how deeply Arthur cared about each member of the gang, you knew that this death was probably weighing heavily on him. If only he would come and see you, just so you could help him.

The sound of a carriage approaching had you standing, tucking the paper under your arm. Getting in, you directed the driver to your house, and you quickie got lulled into the rocking rhythm of the vehicle. You ignored the paper under your arm, even though it felt like a million pounds.

The ride felt like forever, but eventually you pulled into the familiar forested area of Ringneck Creek. The driver helped you out, and after you paid him you headed inside, feeling like you were just going through the motions. Despite everything you’d learned, there was one thing that really bothered you. The shootout had only been yesterday; what had stopped him from seeing you during the previous three weeks?

Even though it wasn’t late, you found yourself getting ready for bed anyway, keeping the paper on the table downstairs and grabbing a book from Hans' office before curling beneath the sheets. Your eyes skimmed the words, not processing them, your brain too distracted by today’s events.

You weren’t quite sure how you “read” for, but you must’ve fallen asleep at some point. A loud noise, like a door being slammed, had you bolting upright, pulled out of your uneasy slumber, the book luckily not hitting the ground. When you didn’t hear anything for a few moments, you thought you had just imagined it, and you went to try and go back to bed. 

That was until you heard the sound of heavy footfalls. Shit. Tearing off the covers, you padded lightly across the wooden floor, wishing that Hans wasn’t so opposed to keeping guns in the house. You had nothing to defend yourself with, so kept to the shadows as you left the room. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you flinched when you saw the shadow of a man making its way toward the stairs. You began to back away, back into the safety of your room, until you recognized the familiar silhouette of the man. Don’t tell me…

Cautiously, you made your way downstairs, barely making a noise. You had to stifle a gasp once you reached the bottom, your suspicions confirmed when you saw Arthur standing in your dining room, back to you, glancing over the newspaper you’d set on the table. His hair was longer, his clothing unkempt, but it was still the same man you had fallen for.

Too many emotions ran through you, from anger to longing to desire to sadness. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face, and so you just stood at the bottom of the stairs, shocked. 

Eventually, Arthur turned, the only sign of him being startled was his eyes widening. Those beautiful blue eyes that had haunted your thoughts, that you longed to see again. You let out a small gasp then, audible only to you. It was really hard to remain still, every fiber of your being craving to be in his arms again, to feel his lips on yours. 

Neither of you knew what to say, just staring at each other. Even in the low light, you could see that Arthur looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and his shoulders sagging. Being on the run would do that to a man. “So Javier wasn’t kiddin’. You’re alive.” You didn’t care that your voice was scathing. 

Javier must’ve said something to him, because Arthur didn’t seem surprised that you mentioned the other man. If you ever met him again, you’d have to thank him for sticking to his word about delivering a message. “I…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ll leave.” Oh, how you missed his rugged voice. 

Arthur turned to head back out the front door. “Stay. Please.” You called out, making your voice softer, stopping him in his tracks. Don’t leave me again. 

He took a deep breath before turning back around, somethin like guilt on his features. “It’s been three weeks, Arthur.” You sighed out.

“I know, darlin’.” You nearly broke then, his name for you crumbling your resolve. Yet you held, fingers gripping the railing with a death grip. “There was an… incident-”

“The shootout in town,” you cut him off. “Don’t sugarcoat things. I know what you get up to. I know the things you’ve done.”

Arthur didn’t bother to try to disagree, and you were thankful for that. “After the shootout in Rhodes, I couldn’t risk comin’ over to see ya’.”

“I understand, but that was only a few days ago. Arthur, it's been three weeks.” You didn’t bother to hide the pain in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.”

“Then where’ve you been?” He didn’t respond, and you laughed bitterly. “I thought you were dead, Arthur. Or you were about to be strung up in the gallows. Or you… I was worried sick, and the only reason I knew you weren’t dead was because Javier told me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want your apology, I want an explanation.” You let go of the railing. “Why?” Arthur hung his head, and you began to step towards him. 

“You deserve somethin’ better, darlin’.”

“And you thought the best thing for me was to leave me alone and heartbroken. And who is this ‘someone better’ I deserve? Hans? No, I don’t think so.”

“I ain’t much better! You said it yourself, you know the things I’ve done. I’ve killed people, so many I’ve lost track. Hell, I was the one who killed Sheriff Gray. My whole life I’ve tricked and duped and betrayed people; I ain’t a good man’. You’re too sweet, too kind. You deserve somethin’ better than that, than me.”

“You think I didn’t know that you’ve hurt people, Arthur? You didn’t think when you said you were an outlaw that I wouldn’t, I don’t know, realize you’ve done some unlawful things? I know what kind of man you are, and who you claim to be, yet when I think of you I think of a man that is also good, generous, sweet.” You continued to move towards him, even as he shook his head. 

“A man that would come check up on a sad woman in the woods just ‘cause she asked, that would find her family’s address so she could write to them.” You were close enough to him that you could reach out and touch him.

“A man that’s made my miserable existence feel worthwhile, that has become the best goddamn part of my life.” His hands were shaking, you found when you took one of them in both of yours. Those familiar calloused fingers were oh so comforting, and you brought them close to your heart.

You took a deep breath. “A man that I’ve completely fallen in love with.”

His hands stopped shaking, or maybe yours were. You couldn’t tell. 

Arthur was speechless, but you could tell that he didn’t oppose your confession, because he pulled you closer. His free hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You shouldn’t…”

“Too late now, Arthur.” You breathed out. “I… I love you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He repeated again with more edge, but you could see how conflicted he was. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from it.”

“How can you be so certain?” 

“Because every damn good thing in my life gets ruined. Every person I lo- care ‘bout, I make their lives worse, and they regret ever openin’ their hearts to me. Did ya know I almost married a girl, then I ruined that. I- I had a kid,” his voice grew thick with emotion, “and he’s no longer with us. All because of me, and the life I lead. All because wherever I go, someone’ll be huntin’ down the people I care about, no matter how innocent they are. I couldn’t live with myself if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me.”

Oh. You were speechless now, and your heart ached for the man in front of you. “Arthur… I can’t guarantee that somethin’ won’t happen to me, but do you really wanna live your life in fear, pushing away those who care about you?”

“I can’t lose you, darlin’. I can’t.” 

“But you almost did, pushin’ me away like that. What then?”

“I…” he took a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to hold the side of your neck gently. “I don’t know.”

“So don’t push me away. Yes, it’s terrifying, caring about someone like this. You don’t think I worry ‘bout you every time you’re not here? That I don’t worry that we’ll be found out, and this whole thing will come burning down around us? But isn’t it worth it? ”

He sighed, before resting his head against yours, his hat sliding back a bit. “It is.”

“Then mean it. To yourself. To me.” His lips were so close now, and you wanted nothing more than to close the space between them. You let go of his hand, choosing to rest your hands on his chest instead. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your fingers, just as fast as yours was. “I love you, Arthur, and there isn’t a damn thing you can say that’ll change that.”

Arthur exhaled shakily, and even in the dim light you could see a small smile on his lips. “And I’m grateful for your stubbornness.” You chuckled lightly at his words. “I’ve been a fool-”

“None of that. You ain’t a fool, Arthur.”

“Maybe not. But I’m a fool for you.” You rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, knees growing weak at the now grin on his face. That dazzling, beautiful grin. But his expression sobered, and you temporarily feared the worst. “You should know that I do feel the same, darlin’. I really do. It’s just, I can’t…”

“You can’t say it back,” you refrained from sounding too crestfallen. You could be content with the fact that he agreed he felt the same. For now. He shook his head, looking ashamed, and you forced his gaze back up to yours when he tried to look away. “Then show me. Show me that you love me.”

“I could spend every last minute of my life showin’ you, and it still wouldn’t be enough time,” he chuckled, his thumb brushing just below your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, and something darkened in them. “But I can certainly try.”

He leaned in, finally closing the distance, and you felt like you could cry with relief. His lips felt even better than you remembered, more desperate than you’d ever felt them. You dropped his hand, arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss you, his hat falling to the ground as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, the hand still holding your face brushing your cheek. “Darlin’, you’re cryin’,” he murmured, his brow creasing with concern. 

“Good tears,” you laughed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “I just missed you, so much.”

Another flash of guilt appeared on his face. “You promise?”

“Promise.” He regarded you for a few moments, and you nearly pulled him back down yourself, desperate to feel his lips again. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait too long, because he was kissing you again, weeks of pent up longing, fear, and love being poured into it. It made you dizzy, and your fingers tangled further into his hair, eliciting a groan from the man. 

Arthur’s free hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he kissed you. They gripped even harder when you ran your tongue against his lips, not expecting you to take control of the kiss. He willingly let his lips part, letting you explore him with ease. 

You hadn’t even realized Arthur had moved until you felt your back hit a wall, the back of your head cradled by his hand. It made you groan, breaking away from the kiss, and Arthur wasted no time trialing his lips down your neck. Your head rolled back, letting out pleased sighs and light moans as he littered kisses across your neck, his facial hair ticking the sensitive skin.

“Arthur,” you groaned, hands still in his hair, and you felt him hum in response. 

“My beautiful girl,” you heard him mutter, more to himself than anything, and you were grateful for the stability the wall provided. The hand on your waist moved down, securing under your thigh and lifting it so that your leg wrapped around him. You inadvertently began to rock your hips, eliciting another delicious groan from Arthur.

“God, Arthur, I need you.” You didn’t care if you were pleading. You’d been plenty patient; you were allowed to be greedy. 

“I’m takin’ my time with ya. We’ve got all night.”

Another groan tore from your throat. All night. “You promise?” You asked, echoing his previous words. If he was promising all night, then you could be patient for a little while longer.

You felt him grin against your skin, nipping lightly at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Promise.”

Author's Note: surprise javier appearance bam!

[joshlmbrt]

YOU’RE NOW ON THE LINE WITH … EDDIE MUNSON | ‘MY GREATEST FEAR’

CW; this is part of my truck driver!eddie au - link here if you’d like to read about this little family, reader is afab - but i try not to speak to much on looks, clothing, weight, or use pronouns, mentions of feeling like a bad dad, eddie’s thoughts, nightmare, mentions of death/forgetting, maybe projecting with my deep deep fear of death

an; this one :( this one :( my apologies.

-> 1-800-799-DADS!

‘YOU ARE NOW ON THE LINE WITH EDDIE MUNSON.’ 

“Hi, Mr.Munson. How are you?” 

“Hello. I’m doing okay. How about you?” 

“I’m great, thanks. I wanted to ask, what’s your greatest fear?” 

That question makes Eddie’s brain overload with multiple answers to that one question. 

Yet, one sticks out the most. 

It’s rare that Ron lets Eddie have a weekend off - but he’s glad that it was doable. Especially with Chance’s 8th birthday coming up and Lily having already taken her first steps. You had filmed it for him. 

It wasn’t the same. 

He wasn’t there. 

He would replay the video over and over - just to hear your squeal and laughs mixed in with Lily’s. She’d fall into her padded bottom, bouncing on the ground slightly, clapping with her chubby hands. 

It was late and the kids had already been put to bed. The bathroom door opens and you hear the sounds of Lily’s giggles floating from the small device in Eddie’s hand. You smile softly, making your way over, crawling up the foot of the bed and lying beside him. 

He glances at you over the rim of his glasses, smiling softly when he notices you wearing one of his shirts from his teen years. You must’ve been hiding it somewhere in your own clothing. 

“Haven’t seen that thing in ages,” He huffs out a small laugh, fingers picking at the sleeve of the shirt, tugging slightly. “Must’ve been hiding, hm?”

“Must have,” You say innocently, tilting your head and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Grew legs and walked off… must’ve grown tired and dropped to the ground.” Your teeth then nip at his skin. 

He laughs softly, lifting his hand and placing it atop your head, scratching at your scalp as he presses play once again. Your eyes leave him and watch the video, before hearing the small chuckle that leaves his throat. You sit up in bed - hair mussed in the back - and lean against his arm. 

Your own arms wrap around his bicep of the arm that rests across your legs, hand rubbing over the skin of your calf softly. Your head tilts and leans against the wall. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He hums, hesitant to turn away from the video. He knows it will still be on his phone when he looks back. “What?” 

“What’s wrong?” You repeat softly. Your thumb rubs against the skin of his arm that had slightly become buffed. “And don’t say nothing,” You watch him slightly deflate. “I know you. I know you better than yourself, handsome.” Your hand runs through the curls that had grown out since the last time he had cut his wild hair. 

He sort of misses his long hair. 

“I just…” He trails off, leaning the back of his head into your palm more, turning his head. “I missed it.” 

“Missed what, baby?” 

“Her first steps,” He says. “I-I missed Chance’s too. I’ve missed a lot. I even almost missed their births.” 

“But you didn’t.” 

“But I almost-”

“I know. I was there, remember?” You laugh softly, letting him know you aren’t mad at him. That he shouldn’t be mad with himself either. “And… okay, so you missed their first steps. I have them filmed though, you can always go back and look.” 

“It’s not the same,” He shakes his head. “It’s not the same as being there…being in the moment. I-I wanted to be there for both of their steps.” 

“But they're gonna have a bunch more firsts that you can be there for, honey. I know you wanted to be there for all of them, but sometimes…that’s impossible. And that’s okay,” You reiterated again - you know he’ll still beat himself up over this. “It’s okay because you’re always there when we do need you. They’re growing up with the best dad. I’m glad I chose you - I couldn’t imagine anyone else who would do such a wonderful job with Chance and Lily.” 

He smiles, nodding slightly. “Okay.” It’s a way to get out of a long filled conversation about his emotions and he knows it. You don’t want to pressure him into talking about it, so you don’t. You know how scary it can be putting your heart on your sleeve and telling someone how you actually feel. 

You press three kisses on his cheek before tracing your nose over the stubble that prickles against your skin. “I love you. You know that, right?” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

He nods. “And I love you. Even if I don’t tell you every day.” 

“You do. And you show me too.” Your lips press to his bicep now, inhaling the scent of faded cologne and the lingering smoke from the cigarette he had. 

He smiles softly, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I love you.” He repeats. 

You grin against his skin. “I love you. Let’s get some sleep.” 

Lights off and cuddled up, his hand runs through your hair. He knows it helps you fall asleep faster, so staying up an extra couple of minutes won’t hurt him. 

That night, he wishes he wouldn’t have fallen asleep. 

Woken up in a cold sweat, he’s reaching for you but he can’t seem to find your body. The light leads you back into the bedroom quickly when you hear his sobs and heavy breathing. 

“Eddie… Eddie, honey.” You're quickly sitting in front of him, his hands immediately reaching out and gripping onto any part of you that he can reach. His fingers are pushing back the hair that falls in your face, thumbs pressing into your cheek. 

“You’re…You’re still here, right? You’re not-“ Your worried eyes never leave his tearful face. “You’re not…” He can’t bring himself to say the word, another sob leaving his throat as he moves to his knees. 

He needs to be closer, see your face, know that you’re here and not dead. 

His heart aches when he sees your worried face, pretty features contoured into fear.

“Are…” He shakes his head, standing from the bed. You watch as he rushes out of the room and down the small hallway. You’re quick to follow him, watching as he peeks into Lily’s room before shutting the door as quietly as he can before walking to Chance’s and doing the same. 

Your hand meets his back, eyes still wide with worry. 

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. What’s wrong?” 

He heaves out a shuddering breath, eyes filling with tears once he realizes everything’s okay - that you’re here, that Chance and Lily are here and not with some other parents. 

It’s a strange feeling because the dream seemed all too real. 

It seemed real when Lily cried when he started to come towards her and Chance stared at him with a bewildered look - and he spoke. He spoke in the dream.  

Chance spoke and he wasn’t there for his first words. 

And when he took a step back, he fell deep in the hole that had your headstone, two figures watching him fall down, down, down until he woke up and was here. 

In reality. 

He shakes his head, rough palms cupping your cheeks as he stares at you. “I…I don’t want to lose you.” His words are whimpered, weak, scared. 

“Baby, you’re not-you’re not gonna lose me. What are you talking about?” 

“I don’t want you to die.” The words are broken. 

Eddie’s scared watching the people he loves grow, change in the different seasons of life because that means it’s only closer til everything and everyone is gone and it’s all dark. 

He doesn’t want anyone he loves to be stuck in the dark. 

Eddie doesn’t want to be stuck in the dark. 

“Eddie, honey,” You whisper. You notice how his chest heaves with panicked breaths. “Baby… Hey,” You hold his cheeks, pressing your forehead to his. 

His knees buckle and you help lower him to the ground, sitting with him with your back against the wall. 

You don’t mind that Eddie’s breaking down in the hallway. You’ll sit here however long he needs too, holding him, reassuring him you’re okay. 

That you all are okay. 

It’s silent over the phone and Eddie thinks maybe he shouldn’t have spilled everything to a stranger. 

‘TIMES ALMOST UP!’ 

“Thank you, Mr.Munson. That… That, uh, meant a lot to me that you shared that.” 

“Yeah. No problem. Have a nice day.” 

“You too. Thank you.” The line goes dead and Eddie sighs, rubbing at his face. 

The mattress dips underneath him and he feels your hand rubbing at his arm. “You okay?” 

He drops his hand into his lap, staring down at you. You’re wearing the same shirt. 

He smiles, scooting down and turning to face you. 

“Better than okay.” 

🪦 thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback is all encouraged & deeply appreciated!

[callsign-rogueone]

cuddles - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader words: 565 🏷: no book spoilers, just thoughts about cuddles with Bren [re: this ask]. gender neutral + no pronouns used. brief mentions of the following things, but they aren’t described in any detail: reader and/or Brennan being injured or sick, having nightmares, stress, and worrying about your partner / being afraid of losing them again. one (1) implication of sexual activity at the end but it’s incredibly mild and left up for interpretation. not edited, just a ramble / headcanons. posting this from my bed, wishing I had a brennan here with me right now :(

Bren is absolutely a cuddler behind closed doors, when it’s just him and his partner around.

it’s definitely a stress reliever for him to just be held and relax with you, to take his mind off of preparing for war. everywhere else, he’s the stern, responsible Lieutenant Colonel, but inside your room, he’s just your Bren, and he likes to be babied sometimes. he deserves it! hold him. massage the stress out of his shoulders. be the big spoon for him sometimes (even if you’re shorter/smaller than him, he still loves it). let him lay his head on your lap / chest / etc and play with his hair and read aloud to him from whatever book you’re in the middle of. warning you though, he’ll probably fall asleep and trap you there for a good hour because he’s so tired all the time.

you’ve both been through so much, and sometimes he just likes to have you close, feeling the warmth of your body and your heartbeat and your breathing, as a reassurance that you’re still alive, still here with him 🥺 especially if one of you has a nightmare, or something scary happened to either of you that day — if you were seriously injured, he’s mending you immediately, obviously, but then he’s not letting you out of his sight. he’s taking the afternoon off and taking care of you, and that includes hours of cuddles. 

and he’ll do it as a reassurance for you, too. if you’re crying / injured / overwhelmed, etc., he’s scooping you into his arms and holding you close while he figures out what’s wrong and how to fix it for you, because that’s what Brennan does, he fixes things. but if it’s not an immediately urgent issue, he’s happy to cuddle you a while to help you feel better first.

and it’s a subconscious thing for him too. even when he’s asleep, he’ll reach for you, curling into your side when he finds you. he just wants to be close to you, as it’s a comfort to him. he falls asleep a lot easier and stays asleep longer when he can feel that you’re around. if he’s sick or recovering from an injury (like in the last six years), you need to be close to him — not just for your own reassurance and because you want to take care of him, but also because he’ll drag himself out of bed to find you if you leave. 

on nights where it’s too hot to cuddle, you have to settle for falling asleep holding hands, which works for a few minutes — until one of you wants to roll over — but it’s good enough for him. 

also, I stand by the fact that he’d have the most comfortable bed. he’s the top commander of the revolution, so he’d theoretically have the nicest room, and because he’s so tired from running the army and mending people and teaching a class now, too, I think he would value having a nice soft place to sleep when he can. a big mattress that you can stretch out on, lots of pillows and some very nice blankets.

and I am legally obligated to make this suggestive, because it’s Brennan: cuddling is a requirement after ~certain activities~. and also, cuddling tends to turn into ~certain activities~ quite often — when you’re not too tired, that is. 😉

[cloud-the-forgotten]

Seam Dee Enters the Tournament! :D

Shadow Kirby is on the left, and Seam Dee is on the right, you can find a reference sheet and some info on Seam Dee below! @kirbyoctournament

Name: Seam Dee (Seam Dee uses they/them pronouns, but doesn't mind the occasional he/him)

Reference Image:

Notes on Personality: Seam Dee is a kind, patient, and somewhat shy waddle dee around those they don't know much about, but get to know them and you'll discover that Seam Dee can be quite friendly and loyal to those they care about! They're somewhat protective over their adoptive noddy siblings Comet and Sol (both of which will not be in the tournament), and just about anyone they consider their friend! Seam Dee is naturally drawn to anything (or anyone) considered weird or offputting, as a fellow offputting creature, they feel it's best to make sure nobody is left out of having a friend!

Backstory and Lore: Seam Dee was created born a little after one of Kirby's adventures, having the gift of an abundance of magic. Their magic allows them to have the Mirror Ability (which they constantly abuse to make the clothes they create heavily resistant to being damaged, and a few other things that they refuse to tell anyone). The aura their magic gives off whenever they use it makes them a little... offputting around others, but it can be reigned in slightly.

Seam Dee, once they found their passion for designing, sewing, and altering clothes, quickly became famous after creating clothes for King Dedede! They now own a shop dedicated to their passion and they also make pillows, plushies, and the occasional Mr. Sandbag for the Star Allies when needed!

[cleverthylacine]

Ship and HC what you want--but I hate Ravage & Soundwave parent-child headcanons so much. I'm finally gonna say it. They can be adult best friends rather than lovers, but the family thing makes my skin crawl. Here's why.

The following is just my personal opinion. Everyone who reads this is free to engage with it, but I don't want to fight about it, and I am not trying to make anyone give up their headcanons, whether those are romantic, sexy, familial, or just friendly.

(The Ravage I write in my fics and RP, like ES Ravage, prefers she/her pronouns. I am aware that Ravage uses he/him in other continuities.)

I am really freaking uncomfortable with most of the common familial headcanons about Soundwave and Ravage, Soundwave and his cassettes in general, and the whole cassette thing. And I will also die screaming before I tag erotic content between two fully sapient beings as "bestiality".

I would rather think of Ravage and Soundwave as bonded lovers (and the birds as her siblings) then think of Soundwave as either of the following:

An Abusive Father who sends his own children directly into the heat of battle out to fight as child soldiers; or

A Large Adult Son who allows his parent and her siblings to be mutilated so he can drag her off into places like mining colonies and war zones, where she ministers to his emotional needs while also fighting for him in the heat of battle, and has no life or relationships of her own.

Because no matter how many cat memes you draw, neither of those things is cute. You have the right to ship whatever you want to ship same as me, but I don't want to read either dynamic.

He is NOT the single father of the year if he's yeeting his children onto battlefields.

He is NOT a good son if his mother is telepathically linked to him, programmed so that he can yeet her out into battlefields in less than a second, and unable to have any romantic or QP partnerships of her own.

If he is her lover (conjunx) or her QPP (amica), and the meeting they had in Rodion was a meeting of two neurodivergent adults who learned how to help and support each other in dealing with their disabilities, and they both want to be together even in the depths of hell, then they have a much less horrific and unhealthy relationship.

I was once made to play IDW Ravage as not Soundwave's partner in a dreamwidth game because they didn't like the ship, and she was a miserable, unhappy person who had given up her entire life to serve Soundwave and Megatron.

This really solidified my feelings about not just why I think their relationship is romantic and adorable, but also why I think a parental relationship between them, going in either direction, is incredibly fucking gross.

Making them mutually interdependent neurodiverse adults with complementary support needs, who love each other in a mature way or even an 'adult' way changes the narrative.

If Ravage is Soundwave's life partner, then the forced cassettification has imposed a power differential on them, but it is significantly lessened by the fact that they were already together and interacting as grown-ass adults who loved each other before that took place.

In other scenarios, she's being thrown by her father up against mechs 4 times her size, OR she's a devoted parent who has been emotionally enslaved by cassettification and can't even have an adult relationship of her own because who the hell is going to want to be her partner knowing that she has an unbreakable telepathic link with her son? And you can't really say she's trading this emotional labour for protection when he's yeeting her out into the front lines every third episode.

IDK, I think glorifiying parents who send their children to war and enmeshed parenting that renders someone an appendage to their child is a lot less problematic than letting them meet as adults and learn how to help one another.

Every time I see someone draw humanformer Soundwave and Ravage as a collared pet, I want to scream, but I don't, because everyone has the right to write and draw what makes them happy.

My friends know NOT to send me links to art that diminishes Ravage.

Ravage may look like a cat, but she passes the Harkness test, and her entire arc in IDW was about getting people to respect her as an equal despite the thing where she looks like a cat.

Her brain and spark are equal to that of any other Cybertronian. It's not bestiality. There's no reason a telepath would care more about the shape of her body than the feel of her mind.

I would rather think that she's getting love and respect and hot overloads from Soundwave than think that she's selflessly devoted to him and to Megatron for all of her days until Tarn locks her into that fucking refrigerator. Or think that she's a child soldier.

[starrysymphonies]

Guys I’m so normal about him I’m so normal guys I swear I swear guys please I’m normal!!

Balloon doodles + gijinka!

(Explaining my design choices because I LOVE symbolism!!)

In my mind Balloon has always been represented by a sun, s1 has a little thundercloud on his button up shirt, implied that the cloud is hiding the sun (him hiding his true self through acting) I tried to fit a bit more 2000s-ish fashion into the s1 design just cause I think it would be funny, couldn’t find too many good refs though and I don’t think he’d go over the top with an aesthetic soo yeah! Short hair and less saturated eyes

S2 the sun is peaking out from behind the cloud, they’re showing their true self more and more even if he does revert back to acting a few times (yelling at Pickle in Everythings-A-OJ). Both the flower and bracelet are from Suitcase, the bracelet is in her color pallete, the flower is one the two collected during the baking challenge. I don’t know what the original flower was meant to be (with a bit of research it has the shape of a balloon flower but not the color), the one I drew is a Blue Flax (symbolizing wisdom, freedom, growth, devotion, commitment, and maturity). He is still wearing the same button up from s1, but over it is a soft cardigan. This is intended to represent how they’re trying to show how they’ve grown and become something new, but people still see who they used to be. Something about staying in the past, accepting the past, not letting it define you while also accepting it as someone you used to be. Hair is longer, eyes are more saturated and pulling in oranges and reds into the shadow bits

S3 is a Beach Outfit! They were going to a vacation so I assumed they’d dress more vacation-y, so they’ve got on swim trunks and a sleeveless hoodie thing I’ve seen around. Suns out! Guns out! Along with being in a more confident pose, the sun is finally away from the clouds on their hoodie. This Balloon has a accepted his past and is trying to show who he truly is. Swim trunks are teal as a little nod to his aura. Aro pin + sinkers pin for funsies. Hair is much longer, and eyes are bright, adding fun pinks in!

Aside from design interpretation, headcanons!! I added some of my design headcanons and other headcanons to the doodles. Most if not all of my hcs for them is just me projecting in some way

[biblically-accurate-dca]

[g4rg0y1e]

I’ve been thinking about Damian leaving his life in Gotham to become a bookstore owner in Amity Park, Illinois, like he met Danny in the league and they had an arranged marriage that the Batfam did not know about and Damian didn’t want them to know anyway so he just flat out left and made a new life for himself near his beloved.

Damian owns a bookstore/coffee shop (obviously) and they live in this apartment above the building and the Everlasting Trio find out about this new place in town called The Bird’s Nest and they decide to try it out but as soon as they walk in Danny hears Damian, in this customer service voice say, “Welcome to The Bird’s Nest, make yourself at home.” and he runs to the cashier and sees his lover and breaks down. Damian hears his ugly sobs and looks up in concern.

Upon seeing Danny he rushes over to comfort him and Danny immediately latches onto him and saying things like “I thought i’d never see you again” and “please be real, please” and Damian is like “i’m here, it's me, i’m so so sorry, Beloved.” and Tucker and Sam are like freaking out a little but seeing Damian hold Danny like that they decided to just hang back for a little bit while Danny calms down, and once he can breathe without stuttering and can speak without feeling like the world is ending they all sit down in a booth together and they explaining to Tucker and Sam how they know each other.

Tucker and Sam are like a little concerned about it but they’re like “it’s fine we knew each other since we were toddlers and we got to know each other pretty well in the 15 years before our marriage.”  and so Damian and the Everlasting Trio start hanging out together a lot and they all start to fall in love :]

Meanwhile in Gotham

The Batfam are freaking the fuck out.

They’re frantically searching for Damian everywhere. They call Talia and ask her but she says she hasn’t seen him since his wedding which makes the Batfam panic even more because what wedding??  But she doesn’t say anything and they are confused but that’s not their concern so they contact the Justice League and get them involved like Robin is missing and we don’t know where he could be.  

So the JL are like searching and they come up with nothing and they decide to get Justice League Dark involved like Robin’s missing what do we do?  and JLD is like searching until they run out of other options and decide to summon the Ghost King Phantom and his Knight and Consorts

but they don’t know that the king has multiple consorts… Or that one of them is Damian… SO they summon them and the king looms over his knight as he covers his consorts with his cloak and Batman is like “please.. please, Great King Phantom… I need to find my child..” and the JL and JLD (that dont know their identities) are like omg does batsy think of rob as his child  and the King is like “Who are you looking for?” and Batman is like “Robin…Damian Wayne.” and the king tilts his head then opens his cape and Damian walks out slowly like “oh shit I forgot to tell them that I was gonna make a whole new life for myself in an entirely different state.”  and just goes “…heyyy.” and the Batfam starts freaking out like “Where have you been?!?” and Damian just goes “I was with my Beloveds.” 

and the batfam is like

“…”

“BELOVEDS, MULTIPLE???” 

[automatonknight]

here's the prick i was talking about^ i have so many thoughts and notes about him but they're mostly incomprehensible so when i organize maybe them i'll post them who knows

[caliblorn]

look at this dude. I love him