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goodmorgan · 1 year

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Perfect Strangers

Chapter 2: A Debt To Repay

(Chapter 1)

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: When Arthur keeps his promise and returns, he's determined to repay his debt to you in more than one way.

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Oral Sex (f! receiving), Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Arthur gives reader a pet name

AO3 Link

A/N: The chapter has spoilers for the first one obvs. For the sake of the story, I have given reader a last name. However, Arthur decides to give her a pet name all of his own...

"To my dearest wife, Mrs. Brooks,

I hope my letter finds you in agreeable health and blithe spirit. I am fortunate to write this in the same state of body and mind.

I am writing to inform you that my return home from Annesburg has been regrettably delayed again. Mr. Jameson has instructed me to remain as bookkeeper for the upcoming months, expressing modest satisfaction with my employment. I do not know yet when I’ll be able to visit you.

I hear whispers that the head bookkeeper, Mr. Muller, my superior, might be retiring by the end of this year, which would make me a potential candidate for his position. I plan on proving my worth in the meantime so that I might be given preferential treatment when the time comes for his replacement. I would like to discuss this in greater detail with you on our next meeting.

Business is flourishing despite minor mishaps at the mine hindering our profit. The papers have callously depicted the pristine working conditions of our miners, whom I assure you are treated and provided for in the most respectable manner. Please refrain from reading such worthless gossip and know I am secure from bodily or spiritual harm.

Mr. Jameson has generously provided compensation for postponing my visit. I trust that you will able to retrieve it at the Valentine Savings Bank, like on previous occasions. Please be mindful to spend it wisely and sparingly.

I bid you farewell with the optimism that we will see each other very soon. In the meantime, I'll see you in my most tender dreams.

Be well and let bygones be just that.

Your doting husband,

Stanley Oliver Brooks"

It has always struck you as appropriate that your husband's initials are S.O.B.

You can't think of a more fitting term for him, even after the last letter he sent, his words leaving you again sick to your stomach as you reread them. While you sigh of relief for his foreseeable absence in the next few months, you're disgusted by his artificial affection and concern for you. If only the man of his letters were real.

You close shut the drawer containing his correspondence with a thud, hearing your wedding ring clang inside. You haven't worn it in months, preferring to not wear a constant reminder of him on you.

You go into the kitchen to find something useful you can do, keeping your mind and hands busy with toil usually helps forget him. You decide to bake a pie with the rest of the apples you have left.

You reach for the flour in your cupboard when you hear the distant sound of horses approaching, making you turn around sharply, grabbing the shotgun by the door. It's now a mechanical instinct for you, having done it hundreds of times since you've lived out here alone. Nothing has passed during that time to upset the peaceful life you lead, so you mostly do it out of precaution. The only major cause of concern happened a few days back when you saw a strange man wander into your front yard, picking one of your apples. Luckily, he was the best thing that happened to you in a long time.

You don't dare risk your luck again so you step out onto the porch quickly, getting ready to ward off any intruder. It's only when you have him in your line of sight that you see the approaching target.

It's Arthur Morgan. At last.

It has been five whole days since he left with your mare Amber. His promise to return hanged in the air since like the sun rays that get you up in the morning, sweet and inviting. You would have never imagined you'd miss someone this much, let alone someone you only knew for a few spellbinding hours.

The man you met intimately last week is now riding a powerful brown stallion, an adequate choice for him, both of them equally imposing to the eye. Amber gallops by their side appearing smaller but just as graceful and well-kept, her golden coat shining in the morning sun. Arthur slows down both horses to a trot as he enters your front yard, letting out an "Easy now" as he pulls on the reins. The closer he gets to you, the better you can see the quiet tender smile on his lips, one too unseemly for such a big man riding such a big horse.

Arthur looks much improved since the last and only time you saw him, now wearing clean clothes that highlight his threatening physique. A polished, perhaps new, slightly too tight, blue shirt brings out his eyes as they shimmer under the shadow of his familiar hat. The bruises on his face have almost healed and you can see the scar on his chin more clearly now that he has trimmed his beard. The satchel you gave him is still draping the same shoulder he hung it on and an impressive gun belt sits on his hips, two heavy weapons anchoring him. Your eyes can barely register all of this as you keep ogling his scene-stealing smile.

"You greet everyone with that shotgun of yours or just me?" he quips from atop his horse as he prepares to dismount. Hearing the soothing lilt of his voice again fills you with unabashed joy.

"Just men I have over for dinner. Or men who take my horse. Or both."

Arthur lets out a few chuckles as he stomps on the ground, heading towards the rails of your porch to hitch his horse. You head toward Amber, petting her forehead to say hello and she neighs back, saying she missed you too. You give her some more attention before you feel Arthur standing behind you, waiting his turn to get your sweet attention too.

"Was she a good girl?" you ask him when you finally turn around and meet his enigmatic gaze, his face barely a few inches from yours. His smile seems to be stuck in place.

"Yeah, she's a swell ride. Didn't work her too hard, I promise."

"And who's that?" You nod towards the brown stallion now grazing your lawn.

"That's Titus. He's new. Still a little jumpy."

"Well, I'm sure you'll tame him in no time."

"Yeah, I'll get him there."

When your spoken conversation halts, your unspoken one continues as you keep eyeing each other. There's a magnetic push forcing you together, an invisible pull holding you apart. Small wrinkles appear and dissolve on your faces as fleeting hints of your nervousness. Your heartbeats are a little faster than their resting rates. Your eyelashes suddenly work overtime. The breeze cools your sweaty temples as you both sway in place, waiting to see who will make the first move, who will be the one to break off the impasse. Make or break. Push and pull. A seductive stalemate.

"How’ve you been?" Like a hesitant player with a winning hand, you fold.

"Just fine. Better. Alive, thanks to you."

"I'm glad." You feel your cheeks move to form an unstoppable smile.

"I've come to repay my debt, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, really?" You pretend to have forgotten all about it, like it hasn't occupied your mind every single waking hour for the past few days. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I have something in mind. But first I'm gonna need your help with something.”

You watch as he moves back to his horse and you follow him, hitching Amber next to Titus. Arthur removes a brown bag from one of his saddlebags. "Here, hold this." It's heavier than you expected. He moves to the other side of the horse to retrieve a smaller bag. "Grab this one too.” You steady yourself as he hands it to you and you start to struggle with the weight of both bags. "Get those inside, would ya?"

“Mr. Morgan, what is this?"

"Just get them inside. I'll show ya."

You're already climbing the stairs to head inside when Arthur finally unropes the big package that was stowed on the back of his horse. By the way he holds it, it seems even heavier.

When you finally place the two bags down on your kitchen counter, Arthur's already right behind you, setting down the package next to the bags. He opens one of them and reaches inside, handing you a potato the size of his fist.

"Thought I'd bring back some things you might need. To replace all the food I ate the other day."

You watch as he starts to empty the bag on the counter, first reaching for potatoes, carrots and onions and then for handfuls of green beans and peas. He retrieves a few shucked corncobs, some turnips. You peek inside the other bag to see that it has a few loaves of bread.

"Now, the only thing I didn't get you was apples, but I figured you might still have a few of those."

"This is too much." You finally express your surprise.

"Well, I did eat too much."

"Not this much, no!"

"It's nothing, really. Why don't you open up the rest for me and I'll get the game I hunted?"

You watch him leave before you finally open the big boxed package. Laying on top you find a few red tins of biscuits and half a dozen chocolate bars. You lift them to find cans of coffee, beans, peaches and salmon. You spot the neck of a bottle of whiskey, an expensive kind by the look of it. A small wheel of cheese is stuck in a corner.

You're still deep in astonishment when you see him walk back in, a couple of rabbits hanging from one hand and a duck from the other. You can't help but laugh at the image. "You steal a grocer on the way over here or something? How much do you think I eat?"

"Just trying to make sure I do right by you, miss. Don't want you thinking I'm so kind of grifter."

"But I didn't give you any chocolate. Or biscuits!" You raise one of the tins in incredulity.

"Oh, that's something I thought you deserved."

Your heart flutters at his words. "Well, you better be staying for dinner because there's no way I can eat this all by myself!" It's only when the words are out of your mouth that you realize how eager you are to replicate the other night.

"I'd be happy to." He accepts your invitation without a fuss. There’s a certain easefulness in your conversation now that you're better acquainted and you both know your attraction is mutual. It doesn’t surprise you that he says yes.

You look back to the goods now cluttering your counter and wonder if you have space in your cupboards to keep it all.

"I was actually hoping you'd let me borrow some of your tools, so I can settle my debt like I promised."

You turn around surprised once again. "Isn't this the repayment you had in mind?" You gesture toward the supplies on the counter.

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I could help you fix your stable. I went to get Amber the other day and I saw that some of the walls need mending and the roof needs fixing. I'd be happy to do it if you let me."

You've been meaning to hire someone to do that for months. It's touching that Arthur noticed and wants to help you out. You don't see a reason not to let him.

"That would be fine, Mr. Morgan. I have some tools here." You reach for your toolbox under the kitchen sink. "There's more of them somewhere in the stable. I'm sure you can find them. Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to impose."

He takes the toolbox as you hand it to him. "I'm more than happy to help, miss." He gives you a reassuring smile. "I'll get started right away if you don't mind."

“Sure. I'll fix us some lunch later. I'll come to get you when it's ready."

"Thank you." He nods politely before he excuses himself and you watch through the kitchen window as he stops to pat Titus before heading to the stable out back.

You are now stuck with the ordeal of putting away all of the food Arthur brought, rearranging the cupboards to fit it all. You smile as you store the biscuits and the bars on a shelf, wondering what kind of man brings so much chocolate to repay a lady. Something I thought you deserved, he said. But it's not just chocolate, it's a whole array of goods, including meats he took time to hunt and skin to purposely bring to you. You realize he's been thinking of you as much as you've been thinking about him, even though a week ago you were just complete strangers. Your thoughts are interrupted once you hear sudden loud rhythmic hammering outside, the continuing of Arthur's restitution.

Everything is in its place once you remember you were going to bake an apple pie before you were so delightfully interrupted. You think it's an even better idea now that Arthur is staying over for dinner. And lunch. Somehow you've captivated him enough to spend the whole day here with you. You hope he'll be spending the night too.

It gets harder to focus on the pie as you recall the night of intimacy the two of you spent the other day. Your chest rises and your breath hisses at the thought that you might be repeating it tonight. As you mix and mold the dough on your steady hands, you think of his large ones caressing you once again, first through your clothes and then on your skin, leaving his mark again on your faltering hips as he gives into you for the second time. You'll be sure to ask him to let you finish around him first this time, the idea having plagued you since then.

The oven is already hot once you absentmindedly finish assembling the pie, the apples now carefully stuffed inside the crust. As it bakes, you get working on lunch, made with some of the ingredients Arthur brought, a simple soup with plenty of potatoes and some sandwiches. You remove the pie from the oven and leave it to cool on the window sill before you go call Arthur for your meal.

When you reach the stable you find him crouched on top of the roof, nailing down some pieces of wood to cover a hole. He’s working shirtless and the late morning sun is making him sweat profusely, deepening his permanent tan. He’s so focused on his task he doesn’t see you approach. “Mr. Morgan, lunch is ready!”

Your voice is loud enough to make him turn to see you. “I’ll be right in, miss.”

When you’re nearly back at the house, you watch from afar as he climbs down the ladder, reaching for a bucket of water to refresh himself, scrubbing off the sweat with a damp rag. You leave when you see him buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his pants, priming himself for another meal with you.

By the time he gets inside, you’re already serving two bowls of steaming hot soup. “This looks mighty fine, miss.” He gives you a satisfied grin before he stops in his tracks and turns around to peek inside the kitchen, having caught the smell of your freshly baked treat. “Is that pie?”

“Yes, it’s cooling so you’re going to have to wait for dinner, I’m afraid.”

“I look forward to it.” He sits down on the same chair he did last time, just as anxious to dig in as five days ago. But this time he’s not as hungry, so he engages in lively conversation with you.

He mostly tells you what’s new in Valentine, curious happenings that have gone down in the past few weeks, things he’s heard around town and seen in the papers. He even gossips with you about a well-known cattle rancher caught having an affair with the butcher’s wife. The story seems to delight him immensely since apparently they ended up slimed in the rancher’s own pigpen in the middle of the town.

You would find the story amusing if it didn’t remind you that you too are a wife with your own infidelity now. The idea of ending up in a pigpen after being exposed for your transgression seems incredibly bleak. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the thought from your mind.

But when Arthur raises from his chair, letting out a long sustained breath, stretching out his enormous body inside your small cottage, you are reacquainted with the lust you have for the man. As you recall the intimate actions that make up your infidelity, your first thought is to wonder how soon you will be able repeat them. The hope that it will be tonight makes you weak with excitement. Maybe ending up in a pigpen isn’t so bad.

“Well, I best get back to it if I’m gonna finish today.” He stops before he crosses the threshold, returning his hat to his place. “The food was very tasty, miss. Thank you.” You both smile briefly at each other.

While he resumes fixing the stable, you return to your chores until you are suddenly left drowsy by the afternoon heat, deciding to rest your eyes for a moment in the comfort of your sofa, the sound of Arthur’s hammer lulling you to sleep.

It's late afternoon when you wake from your nap and you notice how quiet it is, the hammering having stopped. You figure it’s best to go see if Arthur needs any help, bringing with you a pitcher of lemonade to refresh him from a sunny day’s hard labor.

You find him still working inside the stable, his shirt, hat and gun belt hanging on the hooks where you keep some ropes. This time he hears you approach with the pitcher and two glasses in hand.

“Thought you might be thirsty, Mr. Morgan. Got you something to drink.”

“That’s very kind of you, miss. Just give me a second.”

You watch as he picks up a few bales of hay on the other side of the stable and he places them on top of the others, finishing setting them up in a neat pyramid by where you’re standing.

"I think that about does it,” he says.

You survey the small stable as you notice the impressive result of his craftsmanship, every hole now covered and every wooden board now in its place. He even went to the trouble of tidying up the space, neatly arranging everything to make it more functional. It looks like a brand new stable.

You serve him a glass of lemonade as he joins you. “The stable looks wonderful, Mr. Morgan. I’ve never seen it so tidy!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He sits down on a bale as he finally rests for the day, sipping half a glass in just a few gulps.

You serve yourself and put down the pitcher, sitting on a nearby stool, continuing to admire his handiwork. Amber will surely enjoy living here again, you think. It takes only a few seconds before your eyes circle back to where Arthur is and you notice he’s staring at you. You stare right back.

There’s a slight breeze coming in from the windows but neither of you is swaying in place now, sitting perfectly still as you observe the other. You are once again victims of a push and pull, a make or break. That goddamn seductive stalemate.

Except this time, it’s him that breaks. “Come here.” Arthur’s voice suddenly sounds deeper as he sets his glass on the floor, his other hand reaching out for you. You leave your own glass on the stool as you hold out to touch his palm.

When he finally holds you in his hand, you feel yourself being pulled closer to him, forcefully landing on his lap. Your faces remain somber as you’re now close enough to inspect each other’s irises, continuing that wordless exchange you’ve been having all day. The standoff ends when Arthur chases your lips with his, finally free to crash into each other like you’ve been so hungry to do. Nothing about it is tender as the kisses you share turn ravenous, no longer restricted by the pretense of propriety. You have slept together, after all.

It takes a while until both of you are satisfied, decreasing the intensity of each kiss as you pause to look at each other’s eyes, basking in the glow of being wanted so deeply by the other. Soon his warm lips rub against yours more softly, delicately even, and his tongue stops chasing yours. He settles down by placing short pecks on your chin and jaw, as you gently caress his back and neck. You remain in his embrace as you lean your forehead onto his and he gently removes loose strands of hair from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was selfish the other night,” he murmurs. You respond to his apology by lifting your head in confusion. “I was in such a hurry I didn't let you finish first." The fact that he cares about it makes you ache with renewed desire.

"That's ok. It looked like you needed it more than I did.” You pause as he reaches quickly for your lips again. “And, boy, did I need it!” He lets out a few soft chuckles in that drawl of his.

His gaze is suddenly serious. "Let me make it up to you."

“Now?”

He nods. “Now.”

He reaches for the warmth of your thighs underneath your skirt, the ones he’s been fondling this whole time. He squeezes them tightly a few times before he suddenly pulls at your drawers and slides a hand inside, reaching your core with a couple of fingers. You feel them slide between your folds and rub the spot where your slick is. “Good, you’re already wet.” You feel a jolt of ecstasy through your entire body at the brief maneuver so when he removes his hands from you it feels physically devastating and you let out a small whimper.

“I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just take off your clothes for me, would ya?” Arthur suddenly reaches for his glass of lemonade.

“Here?”

He nods. “Here.”

It’s a rather odd moment when you realize that somehow you trust this semi-stranger, barely-acquaintance drifter completely. He’s asking you to get naked for him in the middle of your stable, in broad daylight, and yet you don’t even bat an eye. You’re quick to grant his wish as you start unbuttoning your simple blouse, soon exposing your chemise to him as he takes a few sips of his drink. You drop your top on the floor as you get up from Arthur’s lap to remove your skirt and throw your drawers to the side, with only one piece of clothing left to remove.

Arthur rises from his seat and soon hovers over you to plant another kiss, this one more forceful as he parts your lips with his, slippery from the lemonade. He lingers a while before retreating, forcing himself apart from you to swoop up your chemise as it passes between your bodies. He takes a moment to look down at you and you’re very aware that you are now standing there naked and barefoot. “You’re so beautiful.” He sees you wince at his compliment. “Really, you are.” He softly caresses the side of your arms before leaning in for another demanding kiss and you feel your bare breasts touching his bare chest, his warmth enveloping you as you shiver from his touch and the light breeze entering the stable.

He lets go of your mouth to plant sensual kisses on your jaw, slithering steadily down your neck, quickly reaching your collarbone. He then trails further down as he reaches one of your breasts, lingering his tongue on your nipple, making you steady yourself on his shoulders. He slides further down to your belly, then to your navel, stopping just as he hits your mound, planting soft kisses there. His last one is right above your parting of the folds, making your whole body shudder. He gets up again to look you in the eyes. “So beautiful.” A final kiss lands on your upper lips.

He pauses before he asks his next question. “You have any neighbors, miss?”

You are completely surrounded by the woods. There isn’t another soul for miles. “No, why?"

"In case you get loud."

You watch in place as he goes to retrieve his shirt and for a moment you think he’s going to get dressed. Then he heads to the bales of hay he had been sitting on, unfurling his shirt on top. He grabs your hand and beckons you: “Sit.” You’re confused by his intentions and it shows. “Sit here, come on.” He pats the fabric of his shirt, tugging your hand with his other one. You slowly do so, still not understanding what he wants.

Once you sit down, your bare ass lying on top of Arthur’s shirt, you follow his lead and he grabs both your knees gently, making you turn to the side. You watch as he suddenly kneels himself down in front of you, moving his hands down to your calfs, lifting your legs up. Without any warning he starts pecking one of your knees, placing the other on his shoulder. “You gonna be loud for me, beautiful?” His beard lightly scratches you as he switches legs. “You gonna be loud while you come around my mouth?”

His words make you inhale sharply as you realize what he’s going to do to you.

“Is that a yes, miss?”

You nod, shaking with anticipation. “Yes.”

He pulls your body closer to him, positioning your hips at the edge of the bale, making you lean on your elbows, fully lying on the comfort of his shirt.

His light kissing on your legs starts out feeling like gentle tickling but soon becomes sensual smears as he starts working on your inner thighs. The kisses then get longer and bolder as he closes in on the meeting of your thighs, forcing you to breathe more heavily. He starts using more tongue too, which increases the feeling wildly. By the time he reaches the apex of your thigh, you’re completely dizzy with his teasing, involuntarily closing your eyes as your breath hitches.

“Christ, darling, I haven’t even sucked you yet.”

You watch as Arthur lowers his face once more, a smirk disappearing behind the shape of your mound. He kisses the bridge between your thigh and your slit, which distracts you from his other hand as it sneakily reaches the meeting of your folds. He parts them slowly with a single finger, starting at the top of the clit and only stopping at the bottom of your entrance. You let out a prolonged loud moan, which makes him raise his head, watching your face as he then slides the same finger all the way back up, smearing your slick along its path. You get louder as he pauses directly on your clit, swirling it a few times. After so much teasing, having direct contact is so intense that your head finally hits the hay.

The reaction suddenly feels premature once you finally feel him start what he’s set out to do. Arthur lowers his head again, only this time his lips land right on yours, circling your clit in the gentlest kiss of the afternoon. Your whole body shakes at his subdued but blinding touch.

The coil inside your lower abdomen starts to wind as you feel the tip of his tongue make direct contact with your bud, its surface now angled perfectly to drive you wild. He continues the motion even as you writhe under him, now clutching his hair to ground yourself, your legs pressing his body down onto you as your back begins to curve. Rather than pull away from your tight embrace, he sinks deeper into you, holding your hips steady from their bucking as he continues to lap you lewdly, the sound only muffled by your own salacious moaning. His tongue is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure and you think you won’t last very long.

The obscenity of the moment is not lost on you, as you lift your head momentarily to see what is happening. There is a tall handsome cowboy down on his knees for you, using his whole mouth to draw from you the most perverted noises, on the verge of making you crumble to the most erotic thing anyone has ever done for you. In the middle of your stable, of all places. You thank the heavens you don’t have any neighbors. You thank the devil for keeping your husband away.

And then you feel two of his fingers enter you.

You settle your head down again as you become a complete mess under him, too far gone to care about keeping it together, especially now that he rubs the sweet spot inside you. You’re barely able to discern that his free hand has now reached his pants but you hear the sound of his buckle opening. Finally free from his constraints, he strokes himself a few times and you feel him vibrate on top of you as he finds some needed relief. Despite this, his tongue and his fingers never let up, working you mercilessly. You soon feel moans of pleasure leave his mouth, reverberating directly on your core, a feeling too lascivious for you. That’s when you finally come undone.

Your whole body convulses as you experience the greatest climax you’ve ever had, feeling the waves of pleasure reach every inch of your body, maybe your soul. As you come, your core pushes upward against Arthur’s face, telling him to stop, but he does not relent, continuing his lapping, wringing every ounce of ecstasy out of you. You’re beyond overwhelmed as you moan uncontrollably, your hips sinking and rising erratically, your hands still pulling his hair. After a few moments, he begins to slow his licking, removing his fingers from you, placing his hands on your forearms, giving you smooth caresses as he helps you come down from your high. When you’re a little more tamed, he removes his mouth completely.

“That sure was loud, miss.”

You’re so wrung out by the orgasm you barely hear him, nor do you feel when one of his hands leaves your arm. When you’re more grounded, still reeling from the aftershocks, you’re delighted to hear he has resumed touching himself. By the increasingly loud panting, he sounds to be close already. You don’t lift your spinning head until your curiosity finally defeats your exhaustion. You watch as he pumps his cock with his mouth open, eyes closed, on the verge of toppling over. His beard still glistens with some of your wetness.

When you’re strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows he hears you stir, prompting his eyes open. The gaze he gives is one riddled with lust, accompanied by a brief licking of his lips as he sets a faster pace. You continue to gawk at him, which is all it takes for him to unravel, making him grunt deeply as his spend begins to land on the ground by his knees.

You wait for him to finish his release before you tease him. “You know, you’re not so quiet yourself, mister.”

He laughs lightheartedly as he rises from his knees, tucking his cock inside his underpants, pulling his pants up before he sits down next to you by your hips, still catching his breath. He softly caresses the side of your belly with one of his thumbs. “How was that, miss?”

"I think you’ve repaid your debt in full, Mr. Morgan.”

He bends down to kiss your lips lightly as you both giggle, shining in your shared postcoital bliss. “The name’s Arthur, miss.”

"Well, the name’s Y/N, Arthur.”

“I like ‘miss’ better. It suits you.” He lowers his lips again, this time reaching for your neck.

“You ever heard a ‘miss’ scream like that for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might’ve heard louder than you.” He moves his thumb to teasingly play with one of your nipples.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well, you can always prove me wrong.” Arthur hovers over your lips threateningly. “Besides, the day ain’t over yet, missy.”

You smile at his new pet name for you. It's certainly better than being called Mrs.

A/N: I already have most of the remaining chapters planned out, so hopefully the rest will be published a little faster. Chapter 3 coming soon with the rest of the day!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #goodmorgan

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fakeshibe · 7 months

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the internet is so overtly hostile to kids and young people. commercialisation and profit margins killed off the places younger kids were safe and welcome to be in, creeps and those seeking to goad people towards extremism took over those spaces designated for teens.

There is no safe place. Every time i see a 14 year old on twitter, I see them being told to get off the platform. It’s not safe, it’s not for you. And that’s entirely correct, twitter is not a safe place for a 14 year old, but where is? Tumblr? not really. Club penguin? it’s dead. Community forums? not really a thing anymore. Discord? not without that teen being very aware of their safety and how to look after themselves, at which point they may as well have stuck to twitter.

Like it or not, it’s the job of every single one of us to make a space that is safe for teens. Doesn’t mean you have to be kid friendly, just means you need to take reasonable precautions that your not-kid-friendly content stays in your space, that they can’t accidentally come across it. Content warnings, censoring/spoilering posts, possibly avoiding the main tags for a thing if that topic is child friendly and your art is not. stuff like that. Like if young people are likely to search for stuff like lego, maybe don’t put your nsfw bionicle ship art into the general lego tag, stuff like that.

It’s your job to keep an eye out for your fellow humans. If you see a young person they you know displaying signs that they’re possibly being harassed/groomed/generally made uncomfortable/not doing well, make sure they have a safe person to speak to. You don’t have to be that safe person, you just need to make sure there’s someone who can listen to them.

If you see a kid doing something they really shouldn’t be, it’s on you to explain why they shouldn’t be doing that. Don’t berate them, don’t attack them for it. Explain, help them to understand why that’s concerning to you. We all know internet safety classes in schools are pretty rubbish, usually super outdated. I did a child safety course like two years ago that still included tips on building a safe myspace page. School isn’t going to teach kids about the immediate issues on todays internet, it’s on the community around them to guide them and look out for them.

Also playground humour is fine, just be aware when you’re joining in to not take it too far or make it weird. And bear in mind that even just by virtue of being a couple of years older than whatever young person you’re talking to, there’s a power imbalance in that conversation. Don’t encourage playground humour to the point of making it an entirely inappropriate topic. Your the one guiding this conversation, steer it in the right direction.

And if you see someone being weird towards any minor, wether you know them or not, call that shit out. Let it be known that someone is keeping an eye out, let that kid know that they’re welcome and they’re looked out for. Let that creep know that people see them, and people are very, very aware of what they’re doing. Make them feel unwelcome, run them out of your spaces, spread awareness of risky people. Keep your spaces safe.

This is all especially as important as IRL spaces become more hostile to potentially vulnerable young people. Queer teens especially are going to be looking for community and safety online more and more frequently. Make sure that the places they find will be a respite from the real world, not just a different set of threats to navigate.

Make sure young people feel safe on the internet, and make sure that those looking to take advantage of their presence, don’t.

Why am i writing all this? I’ve seen too many posts about people’s experiences as a young person online, and i talked to my brother the other day about him and his friend’s experiences and it’s terrifying that there’s really nowhere for young people to go. Also i’ve realised that i’m not doing enough to be part of the solution. so this is part of that, im gonna be far, far more aware of the issue and doing more to try and help.

#internet safety #This post brought to you by seeing several communities on twitter oust dodgy people the last few days #no beef with bionicle fans btw i just couldn’t think of another example

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 years

Text

Thunder In Our Hearts (Part 7)

Summary: The reader and Soldier Boy know they need to take a risk and speak with the CIA if they want their plan against Homelander to work out. But things have a way of going wrong very quickly around these two...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x reader

Word Count: 2,300ish

Warnings: language, nudity, violence, drug/abuse/sexual assault/torture mentions

A/N: Spoilers for Season 3 of The Boys in this one! Uh oh…

__________

Two Months Later

“Y/N!” You looked up from the computer when Ben bounced in the house in his uniform, setting his shield down by the boot tray. “I think I know of a way to get close to Homelander.”

“So you can blast his powers out of him? I’m listening,” you said, Ben kicking off his boots and sliding into the chair nearby.

“The nerve agent. The same gas that can knock me out surely has to knock him out too, right?”

“Ben we went down this road. We know Vought has a supply of it but how to disperse it without killing anyone accidentally, including ourselves, is a problem.”

“I know. Which is why we install the gas in his apartment, activate it remotely and then I can go in, depower him and snap his neck like it’s nothing. Plus, I won’t end up killing the kid if he’s there. I can depower the both of them in one move.”

“How do we install the gas? We can’t exactly trust anyone else,” you said.

“I know. That’s the part I’m hoping you could help me figure out. Do you have any old CIA contacts you could trust?”

A thought crossed your mind but you didn’t like it. Ben saw your face though and smiled. “Oh come on, Y/N. I know you have something. Spill.”

“I know of a way we could potentially get a CIA agent to install the gas for us.”

“Perfect. What’s the catch?”

“The catch is they’d want something in return. A gift. A superpowered gift.” His gaze lowered and you sighed. “It’s too dangerous, Ben.”

“I want him dead.”

“I know but…Ben they’d make sure you’re gassed up before I hand you over. You’re going to be weak and vulnerable in that state. I can’t guarantee I save you and it’d be one, worthless and two, I’d lose you. We can’t risk that.”

“So you have a way of turning me in if you wanted to?” he asked after a moment. You glared at him, Ben shutting his eyes. “I’m not accusing you, kiddo. I’m just asking.”

“Backchannels tell me there’s an agent that wants you back. Mallory.”

“Oh that bitch. Truth be told, I kind of liked her. Had that no fucks attitude like you,” he said. Ben leaned back in his seat and sighed. “What else do your backchannels say about me?”

“Mallory’s looking for you. Going after Homelander puts you at risk.”

“Any way of convincing her to get off my back?” he asked.

“She seems like the kind of woman that doesn’t back down.” He nodded. “Ben, she’ll find us eventually. You’ve been in public. I can try to talk to her, tell her you’ve changed. And if she tries to capture me, hey, you can be waiting nearby and just kill her.”

“Will she find us here someday?” You nodded, knowing it was only a matter of time. “Set up a meeting then. I want her off our backs and if not, we’ll find another way to deal with my fucking kid.”

Two Days Later

Something was wrong. Your meeting with Mallory had been over for nearly three minutes and Soldier Boy was not back at the car. You pulled up your phone and swiped to the air tag you’d shoved in his underwear as a precaution, much to his annoyance.

Your heart dropped when it showed the tag was on the back highway.

“Mallory!” you shouted, rushing across the parking lot. She reached behind herself for her weapon but you figured you’d given her enough warning. You pressed the remote in your pocket, Mallory falling to the ground when a car exploded nearby. You ran over to her, kicking her gun away. “Where are you taking him?”

“He’s dangerous. I let him live once and it was a mistake. He needs to die.” You looked down, watching the blood rush out of her leg, shrapnel sticking out of it. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“I don’t have to kill you. But I don’t have to save you either,” you said, jogging away and for your car, trying to figure out some way in hell of catching up.

“Mistake, mistake,” you said ten minutes later. You’d managed to flip the van Ben was in by hitting the back end at nearly eighty miles an hour but you were stuck in your flipped car now and a pair of boots were coming your way.

You looked around for anything to cut you loose, eyes wide when you saw a switchblade jammed in your cupholder.

Ten seconds later you were crawling out of the car, a CIA agent was bleeding out on the ground nearby and you were carefully approaching the back of the open van, the agent’s gun drawn. The driver looked dead and you climbed inside the back, ripping off the mask over Ben’s face. His eyes fluttered open, heavy and tired as you started to undo his restraints.

“Ben it’ll be-” you gasped when something slid into your back. Someone yanked you backwards out of the van, holding a bloody knife in their hand. The agent you’d thought was dead on the side of the road was apparently very much alive. You grunted, falling to your knees as he approached.

Then, he was out of view completely, your head turning to find he’d been flung nearly fifty feet against a tree.

Ben panted hard as you turned back, in nothing but his underwear still, his eyes dark and narrowed.

“I didn’t betray you,” you breathed out, falling forward. “You’re safe now Ben. You’re sa…”

You woke up in a dim room, Ben’s hand wrapped around yours. You blinked a few times, trying to get your bearings.

“You’re in the ICU,” he said quietly. “You were working in the yard early this morning when you fell off a ladder and onto a switchblade. You screamed for help and I came running out of the house when you woke me up. I drove us here in a hurry but you passed out along the way. Understand?”

You slowly nodded, taking him in, a pair of blue scrubs on him, some simple hospital sandals on his feet.

“Y/N, you’re awake,” said a doctor that walked in with a chart in hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Crummy,” you mumbled, smiling at Ben. “Grateful he’s a light sleeper.”

“You’re very lucky he is. Ben, would you mind stepping out for a moment? I’d like to examine Y/N’s back.”

“Of course. Kiddo, you need anything?” he asked as he stood. You shook your head, swearing he was reluctant to let your hand go. When he was gone the doctor sat you up, forcing a smile.

“I know what you’re going to say,” you sighed. She didn’t move and you closed your eyes. “I have lots of scars on my back and I fell on a knife. I know where your mind is going.”

“Did Ben do this to you?” she asked. You shook your head. “Y/N, his story-”

“My dad hurt me as a kid. A lot.” You forced your eyes open, swallowing thickly. “He was awful. But Ben is…he would rather die than hurt me. Ben is good. All he did today was help me when I was scared and made a stupid mistake. I shouldn’t have left the knife undone, I know I shouldn’t have but it was my mistake. Trust me, he’s going to yell at me for being stupid on the ladder later but it’s only because he cares so much. I scared him so much today and he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay. It was an accident.” She paused a beat, searching carefully for her next words. “Was your father ever charged?”

“No. He’s dead now so it doesn’t matter.” You crossed your arms, staring at your lap. “Was Ben alright? When he brought me in?”

“I didn’t see you down in the ER but from what I understand, he carried you in shouting at the top of his lungs for someone to help. I had a feeling he was a good guy but I had to make sure.” You smiled, nodding your head. “So. Let’s talk about what we did in surgery.”

“Oh he’s such a sweetheart,” said your nurse that evening. Ben was using the shower in your room while he waited to go pick up dinner from the restaurant next door. “That boy keeps coming out and asking the nurses station if you’re doing alright.”

“Oh yes, he’s a regular old softie,” you said, smirking as you imagined Ben laughing under the stream of water. “The nurse earlier in the day said Ben could practice changing my bandage on me tonight?”

“Yeah, we’ll want to make sure he can do it once we send you home. How’s the pain?” she asked.

“I’m okay. Mostly I feel sore.”

“Don’t be afraid to hit the pump,” she said as the bathroom door opened, Ben stepping out in a plain white shirt and pair of gray sweats he’d bought at a dollar store down the block. “Ah, Prince Charming. Right on time for your lesson.”

“What?” he said, looking like a deer in headlights. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to the bed.

“Anyone ever tell you that you look like that old supe, Soldier Boy?” she said.

“He gets that a lot,” you said with a smile, Ben making a face behind the nurse’s back. “But he’s just regular old Ben.”

“Well Ben, time for you to get antiquated with checking your girlfriend’s bandages.” You sat up and grunted, the nurse untying your gown to reveal the thick pad of white there. “I’m going to write this down for you but you want to change the bandage at least twice a day. Now start with a pair of gloves.”

You heard them snap on behind you, Ben shuffling his feet. The bandage peeled off and you heard a tiny inhale of air from him.

“Now I know it ain’t pretty but pay attention to the wound. If things turn red, inflamed, there’s pus, anything that doesn’t look right, bring her right back as she likely has an infection. Once you check she’s okay, disinfect and reapply a bandage.”

“You want me to touch her stitches?” His voice was small, smaller than you’d ever heard it before. “I can’t.”

“Hey. She has pain medication and she needs you to do this for her. You won’t hurt her,” said the nurse. “Take the cotton ball and gently dab the disinfectant over her injury.”

You barely felt a whiff of it on your skin, Ben silent the entire time.

“Now get out a fresh bandage and tape it on.” He felt more comfortable with that step and after a few seconds, he let out a deep breath. “Now all you’re going to do is repeat that for the next two weeks and then we’ll see how she’s doing at her post-op. Not so bad, right?”

“No,” he said softly, a nurse popping their head in.

“Ben, Dr. Hartlick would like to talk to you for a moment in the hall,” they said. You hummed, waving for him to go as your nurse tied your gown again.

“What’s that about?” you asked.

“He’s a little shook up. I know it’s hard to believe but people can get PTSD from accidents at home. You lost a lot of blood. We’ve been keeping an eye on him,” she said, helping you lay back down.

“Thank you and…if he does, I’ll make sure he’s okay too.” You looked through the glass window, Ben rubbing the back of his neck as the doctor spoke to him. “I know today was hard for him. For us both.”

That was the understatement of the century.

“Ben,” you said when he insisted on carrying you into the house the next day. “Can you please put me down? It wasn’t a deep cut and the doctor’s said I can walk around fine.”

He grumbled but set you on your feet, watching you carefully as you walked around, holding out your hands. It didn’t hurt at all, only when you bent, the two of you incredibly grateful the knife wound had been minor.

“Just be careful and I swear, if I see you picking up anything the next two weeks, I’ll happily tie you down to a chair.”

“I promise,” you said, stepping in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close. “We haven’t talked about what really happened.”

“I know you didn’t betray me,” he said, resting his chin on you shoulder, holding you as tight as he dared. No words left either one of you, the air quiet and still.

Then he inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly.

“You saved me,” he whispered. You hugged him harder, Ben burying his face in your neck. “I was trapped and you rescued me.”

“I’d say it was because we’re partners and all that but honestly, you’re fucking mine Ben and no one gets to take you away from me.”

“Because of our deal.”

“I remember what you said in the car on the way to the hospital. You told me you loved me and that I couldn’t die yet, that I had more to teach you and you didn’t want to be alone again.” He clung on harder, body shaking. “I let Mallory bleed out. No one is going to bother us anymore. We’re safe. You’re safe. I love you too, you asshole old man.”

And then, he did what you’d been waiting to happen for months.

Ben fucking broke.

He fell down to his knees, crying against you, holding on for dear life and you let him.

For the first time in his life, he could just be himself.

________

A/N: Read Part 8 here!

#soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #the boys fanfic #soldier boy reader insert #soldier boy x #soldier boy x you #soldier boy series

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liyawritesss · 1 year

Note

can you do more reader x riri maybe a date night or something on campus

ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

Character: MCU!Riri Williams x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Synopsis: School is out for the semester, and all Riri wants is to spend some quality time with her girlfriend back home.

Warnings: Some BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER spoilers if you haven't watched the movie. Some cursing as well but overall just some tear jerking fluff

A/N: I may have went a lil sidetracked with this request. I couldn't really think of any good date night ideas on campus per se, but I do think that during the cold Riri would prefer indoor dates with her loved, and that's kind of how this came about. I hope you enjoy nonetheless! Suggested songs to listen to while reading: Lauv's "I Like Me Better".

Also, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my followers, mutual, friends, family, and important people in my life, on Tumblr and beyond. Yall have made this an enjoyable year and I can't wait to spend many more with you guys!!

Tags: @verachii @rxcently @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega @inmyheadimobsessed @lunerenzo @letitias-fav

December 17th. The day that college students all across America had been waiting for since the start of the semester….the end of it.

Riri was all too happy to be boarding the plane back to Chicago. Her and her mother had packed up her dorm room the day prior, so all that was left to go back home was herself. While Boston had its perks, there was nothing there that could even begin to compare to the wonders of the Windy City. And it didn’t have the people she really cared about, either.

Speaking of, the moment she got settled on the plane, an inbound Facetime request caught her attention. The caller ID on the screen read ‘babygirl <3’. A smile instantly spread across her face.

“Hi baby!” Your cheery voice chimes through the cellular device once she answers it. “You’re just gettin’ on the plane?”

“Yeah, takeoff is in like twenty minutes they said,” Riri replies, plopping down in her seat after putting her carryon in her overhead compartment. “I cannot wait to be home. I be tired of Boston the moment I step in this bitch.”

Your giggle warms the engineers heart as she stares at you endearingly, her head leaning on the window which shows the outside of the plane. “What’chu doin’, mamas?”

“Ah, I was just finishing something up for you,” you reply, and by the tone of your voice shifting from cheery to bashful, Riri could tell it was from the nickname she had given you. Her eyebrows furrow together as you add on “It’s a surprise!”

“Oh no, what’chu don’ did now?” Riri questions, her tone playful. She breaks out into a toothy grin as she sees your face feigning hurt.

“Me? Why you always assume I don’ did somethin’ bad?”

“‘Cus whenever I come home, you always in some trouble!”

“It’s not my fault! The world just…hates me!”

“Yeah, okay, (Y/N),”

The overhead intercom beeps alive, and the voice of one of the plane staff begins to ring from the speaker above Riri. “Attention all passengers. This flight will be ready for takeoff in ten minutes. Please follow the necessary precautions regarding electronic devices, personal carry ons, etc. Thank you for flying with us, and we hope you have an enjoyable flight.”

“You heard her, babe. I gotta go,” and although your pout makes Riri want to continue the Facetime call, her resolve is much stronger than any puppydog eyes you could pull on her. “I’ll meet you when I land, okay baby?”

“Okayyy…” You reply, drawing out the last syllable of the word. “I love you. Be safe!”

“I love you, too, mamas. I’ll be home before you know it.”

The moment you saw Riri coming from the escalator, you instantly bolted to her, despite her mother’s protests. Riri virtually dropped everything in her hands and rushed to you as well, both of you colliding in a bone crushing embrace that left you two on the floor of the airport terminal, smothering each other’s faces with kisses of endearment and a many ‘I missed you’s.

“Aight, nah, y’all get up, people’s is startin’ to stare!” Ronnie warned, but it was a moment before her words registered with the both of you. You were just so happy to see each other, after basically four months apart and constant schedule conflicts. But when the reality that what you were doing may have been a teeny bit inappropriate for the airport set in, you helped Riri get her previously discarded belongings, and the three of you were off back to Riri’s home.

Ronnie spoke of some business she needed to take care of, but when Riri asked for specifics, the older woman replied “Grown folks stuff,” with a mischievous smile. And with her gaze shooting to you for a quick second, Riri suspected that whatever you had planned for her arrival, her mother had conspired, so much so that she was leaving the two of you at the house for an unspecified amount of time. Who knew a mother could be their child’s girlfriend’s best wing woman?

“C’mon, baby, just show me what it is,” the engineer whined, becoming impatient, “is it in my room? It’s in my room, ain’t it!”

“Calm down, speed-ball,” you replied, “Just keep your eyes closed and you’ll see soon enough.”

Although Riri wanted to open her eyes now, she obeyed, and kept her eyes closed as you led her through the house and to her room. You twisted the knob of the door and opened it quietly, guiding your girlfriend through the threshold. After centering her in the middle of her room, you took a step back, and told her to open her eyes. What Riri saw absolutely stunned her speechless.

Her room, with lilac walls and a variety of posters littering the walls, that once had junk neatly scattered everywhere, had been completely transformed. In the top ceiling corners, false vines wrapped around the four walls, and with them were lantern colored LED lights that shone a warm white color. Her bedding had been replaced with a more festive covering, the blanket, sheets, and pillowcases having small reindeer pattern on the white background (save for two pillows, which just had new white silk pillowcases on them). In one corner was a snack table set up with both of your favorites, most - if not all - holiday themed. And in the space above her dresser, which would have held a TV, had the projection of Netflix on its walls. Also on the bed were two matching pajama sets, with black tops and red, green and white plaid pants.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Riri breathed in disbelief, “You did all this?”

You nodded proudly. “With some help from Ms. Ronnie, she helped with the projector.”

The engineer is still in a state of shock when you come to her side, placing a peck on her cheek. “We can unpack later, but you, my darling, deserve to relax a little,” You add on, taking her face into your hands. You smile when you see her visibly melt into them. “I know MIT’s been kicking your ass.”

Riri takes the opportunity, and your closeness, to place a short kiss of gratitude on your lips. “Nah you know damn well them white folks ain’t got shit on me, mama.”

Her words make you laugh, because you know it’s true. “Aight, baby, lets get you in the shower.”

After an hour of showering and getting cute for your evening in, including a water fight in the shower, trying not to slip on the wet floor the both of you made, and taking a couple of mirror selfies in your matching pajamas, you and Riri find refuge in her bed, snacking on the various little food options you so graciously provided. Riri has her head on your chest as she munches on a bag of Takis, while the movie Gremlins is projected onto the wall above her dresser; though little attention is being paid to the movie itself, as Riri is disclosing information from the last few weeks that she was away.

It’s moments like these that Riri misses the most about being away at MIT. Sure she gets to make different gadgets and best preppy white boys in chemical equations, but nothing will ever beat coming home to the girl she loves.

“And then come to find out the fish-lookin’ nigga just needed to be baked a lil’ bit to knock his ass down-” It’s the way you burst out laughing, almost spitting out your drink, at her description of the legendary fight she was able to witness as part of the attack force in Wakanda. Riri laughs too as she looks up at you from her position on your chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, cuz it really sounds like she turned him into some grilled tilapia-!”

“-and did! And did!”

Your shared laughter echoed throughout the four lilac walls of Riri’s room, the christmas movie being played from the projector becoming obsolete to the two of you at that moment. When the laughter finally began to cease, you caught Riri staring at you. Not an awkward kind of stare, nor an examining one. Just a gaze of endearment as she placed her head on the plush of your thighs, not breaking eye contact.

“What’chu lookin’ at me like that for?” you question, bashful, at the intensity of her gaze, Riri just shrugs, and turns her head to the ceiling.

“Nothin’, just…thinkin’,” she replied. There's a slight pause, before her eyes return back to you, and she starts to speak once again.

“I like me better when I’m with you,” the engineer confesses. Riri reaches for your free hand, and you happily hand it over to her. Her words intrigue you, as you’re unsure why she randomly spoke them, but nonetheless, your heart warms at them.

As though you spoke your confusion aloud, Riri sits up, her fingers now intertwined with yours, and she continues on; “I mean- like, when I’m in Boston, it’s like I’m on autopilot. I just kinda do shit ‘cuz I have to. But when I’m here- when I’m with you…everything makes sense. I ain’t gotta stress about shit, I’on have to be perfect. I look at you and shit makes sense, y’know? It’s corny as fuck but…I really don’t know where I’d be without you, (Y/N).”

It’s a revelation Riri came to while stationed in Wakanda for her protection against Talokan. Not being able to contact you because of the secrecy of the whole ordeal gave her ample time to think about you and your place in her life. Because truth be told, when Riri was around you, she was a completely different person compared to being in Boston or being at Princess Shuri’s side. With you, life was effortless, love was plentiful, and the idea of being separated from you, the reality of being separated from you with no contact, tore her up inside.

You were truly her peace.

Riri’s words made your eyes tear up a little. The engineer was never good with words - her actions and the ability to show what she was about was something she always prided herself in - but to hear the sincerity and ingenuity spill from her lips was a gift like no other.

You took your interlocked hands, bringing them to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, soft and sweet-smelling from the cocoa-butter she applied onto her skin after the shower. She was heaven in your hands, and you would do anything to protect and love Riri with all your heart.

There wasn’t a need to exchange anymore words - the look in which you two shared spoke enough volumes that mother nature herself could hear the comforting silence, and take from it the love you two shared and melt away the frosty December cold and snow. And the two of you rested with your foreheads pressed together, hands holding each other, smiling like idiots in love, as the moonlight from the sky bathed the two of you in a glow fit for goddesses.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

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laniemae · 5 months

Text

Reminder for Deep Cover spoilers

[Image description]: Deep Cover spoilers precautions. Please read.

So the Deep Cover album is out now on Spotify. I've seen a lot of untagged spoilers lately and am reminding you to tag these appropriately for people who want to wait until the MV's release, which has been delayed until January 17th.

Deep cover spoilers: For stuff relating to the Deep Cover song, lyrics and stuff.

Yonah spoilers: For stuff relating to the YONAH voice drama, translations and stuff that's said and revealed.

Streaming heart spoilers: For stuff relating to the Streaming Heart cover, and it's musical composition.

DO NOT SPOIL IN TAGS!

Please reblog this around so people can see it!

Edit: ok guys so I was just told by someone that apparently these tags are flooding stuff for prexisting stuff and people aren’t using the main milgram tag so people can blacklist it so like can you guys just use it or if not some other tag

#milgram #Milgram project #kotoko yuzuriha #yuzuriha kotoko #im making this for it because even after I’ve said so many times I’ve still seen spoilers #I’d also advise you to specifically tag these instead of just “milgram spoilers” to be more specific #I’ve taken the time to make a little infographic for this so please follow the tags #If it keeps going I might have to post this every day

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kell-be-belle · 2 months

Note

please don't post early access stuff in the main tags

I'm sorry anon, but I'm honestly not sure what's going on anymore. A previous anon told me to use the #tmagpvague tag when talking about early access so I incorporated it in my posting, no problem. I've been careful to either keep things as vague as possible for that tag or taking extra precautions with things that have spoilers (Warnings, appropriate tags, read mores) and none of it has been enough? At this point, I'm reluctant to post anything at all because there always seems to be a problem. I really want to participate in the fandom and I'm trying to be as considerate as possible, but I'm just not sure what to do anymore here. It seems like no tags are appropriate tags.

#I don't want to sound rude but like this has been so frustrating for me #I check the tags regularly to see what other people are using and I've seen people use both tmagp and tmagp vague in the same post #kell speaks

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fearandhatred · 3 months

Note

He can’t use ANY of the ideas we send him?? Or just the ones he posts? I would think between all the asks he gets surely there’s some stuff he was already planning on doing

hi anon! you can read more on neil's post here, but as far as i know, yeah he can't. it's also very hard to disprove any accusation of him using a fan's theory/idea, even if he hasn't actually seen it -- worse still if he has acknowledged it previously.

the article linked to that post about an actual case also says:

...since if they ended up using an idea randomly pitched to him on social media, even by accident, there could be grounds for a legal claim.

and a tweet from the writer in question involved:

...please do not provide story ideas; they can't exist where I post for legal reasons, so tweeting story ideas 100% guarantees that I won't use them.

anything sent in or even anything neil happens to see can be considered "pitches". i'm really not fully sure on the exact extent of this, but it would make sense for him to take every precaution to not get into legal trouble, so it wouldn't surprise me if he just decides not to use any ideas that have been sent to him at all.

(honestly, no idea how he manages to avoid all of them, it's a question i've had for a while too. i don't think blocking the good omens meta tag is sufficient for that. maybe none of us have even come close to what the plot of s3 will be lol)

but yeah, it's a miracle he's still on tumblr interacting with us considering the risks tbh.

tldr; shut up <3 don't send him ANY theories, and also don't ask him for spoilers please, do y'all really think he'll reveal anything. be serious

#fearandhatred #fearandasks #thanks for asking! hope i answered this accurately lol #also sorry for the kinda late reply i am toiling my ass off over 4 one and a half hour math lectures #and had to make sure i got my sources #good omens #good omens season 2 #neil gaiman

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sweetfirebird · 5 months

Text

A Little Wild

This is one of two prompts fills for Marianne who quoted A Suitable Consort as a suggestion:

“I think I would also prefer to do something wild—but not too much. Please and thank you.”

Content tags: passing reference to the very real attack on Mattin’s life in ASC. Spoilers for A Suitable Consort.

Mattin had learned his lesson about traveling through the capital, and not only made sure to inform his guards of his plans—and therefore inform Mil if he hadn’t already discussed his plans with his spouses-to-be that morning—but to now dress a little more discreetly.

Not that he had dressed loudly before, but he also hadn’t been known or recognizable before. That was he now was slightly worrying, although he was trying not to let that show around Mil or Arden. But removed his hair clasps and some of his jewelry before going out, if he remembered to, and planned to wear a hooded cloak until the weather warmed up too much to make it comfortable.

All of which was to say, he now took precautions and therefore it wasn’t his fault that he’d turned around after getting stuck in a particularly crowded section of the public market and been unable to find his guards. Or perhaps they couldn’t find him. He was dressed simpler now, and in a hood, probably did not stand out much from the others around him.

He stayed where he was, trying not to get jostled by distracted shoppers eager for the first fruits and vegetables of the spring, and all the goods now able to come downriver from the north with the winter snows, and then the thaw and resulting mud, all gone. He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t. The odds of someone who intended harm finding him when he happened to be alone were slim.

The odds of someone removing his guards in order to harm him, however, were unfortunately much higher.

Mattin considered standing on the nearest barrel he could to look over the market, or if that would attract too much attention and it would be better to slip away and return to the palace as quickly as possible. He didn’t get a chance to decide—a large figure in a black cloak and hood stepped in front of him.

His view and exit blocked, Mattin raised his head, only to stare at Arden in stunned surprise. His heart was still pounding with panic, but Mattin stared for another moment then frowned reflexively.

“You said you didn’t sneak out anymore.”

Arden, his head tilted down to keep the hood in place, gave him a hint of a smile. “I never said that.”

Mattin narrowed his eyes. “You let me believe it and that’s just as bad as a lie.”

“I suspect that is debatable,” Arden answered, unrepentant. “Anyway, it ended well, since I saw you. Speaking of things promised and agreed to,” his amused tone faded, “you promised to never go out without guards.”

Mattin nearly snapped his reply. “I have guards. They just seem to have gotten lost. I’ve been waiting for them to find me.”

“Sass,” Arden named him, not exactly placated, before giving the rest of the market behind Mattin a glance. “I see them. They’re looking for you.” If Mattin’s snappishness had amused Arden, that amusement did not last. Arden gave a nod, evidently to guards that must have spotted the king. Mattin did not envy those guards in that moment.

“The market was suddenly packed. None of us expected it,” Mattin excused them softly.

Arden’s expression didn’t change until he looked down at Mattin again. “If you won’t think of me, then think of what it would do to Mil if something happened to you.”

Mattin opened his mouth—although he had no argument against words that gutted him—then abruptly remembered Arden was in the market too, and if he had guards, Mattin didn’t see them.

“And if something happened to you?” he asked coolly, a perverse part of him enjoying Arden’s moment of surprise at being chastised. Then he wondered if it was more that Arden forgot that Mattin might worry over him too.

Or that anyone might. It was a brief thought but Mattin knew he was going to find himself sleepless over it at some point in the future. So he glanced around, not seeing that he and Arden had drawn any undue attention, then he darted forward to rest his cheek against Arden’s chest. At least he could feel leather beneath Arden’s vest and shirt. Arden had some protection.

Arden’s arms came around him, which was nice too.

“I was starting to worry,” Mattin admitted, although he hadn’t forgotten his point. “I’m glad you’re here. But why are you here?”

“Ah.” Arden said it like an embarrassed person might stumble over their answer. But Arden was rarely embarrassed about anything. “Cael is still recovering from her small illness. So are the members of the council who apparently shared their sickness with her. While I could be reading all the lovely research you did for me,” he paused when Mattin harrumphed loudly and pointedly, “I found myself with an afternoon off. And Mil said you were ‘off to do some tasks in town that please him,’ and I thought it might be a good way to spend a few free hours; seducing a pretty man I might happen to run into in the street.”

“So you snuck out,” Mattin said first without thinking, raising his head to regard Arden suspiciously. Then the rest of Arden’s words sent his mind whirling. “You what? What?”

He had no idea why this made Arden smile, but it was such a distracting smile that Mattin couldn’t think to protest when Arden stroked the side of his face. “Seduce a pretty man I happened to run into in the street,” he said, low and warm. “One who I believe I once heard speak longingly of such a thing.” His fingertip grazed Mattin’s parted lips. “Of course, if he was not amenable to being seduced, I thought I might take him shopping. I’ve never done that, spent money extravagantly like a fool in love. When I should have, there was no need.” Outguards only needed what they could carry. “Except for good food or a night in a comfortable bed, with a hot bath for him when he was sore or especially tired. Those things I could provide then. Now… jewels, sweets, books… I could drown you in them. Both of you. But you’d have to show me the way.”

As though Mattin had ever done such a thing either. He drifted forward, catching Arden’s finger to kiss it, then recalling himself and inching back with a burning hot face.

“I….” He had no clue what to say in response to any of that. He didn’t even know his own voice. “Arden?”

“Unless that’s too wild for you, dear heart?” Arden prompted gently after several seconds of Mattin gazing at him in confused wonder.

Mattin resisted darting guilty looks around them to focus on Arden, who seemed patient and still on the surface like a palace fountain frozen in the winter. But his gaze was another matter.

Allowing Arden to escort him through the market was the logical answer, the simplest and by far the least embarrassing, or potentially embarrassing.

“Too wild?” Mattin asked instead of whatever he ought to have asked while his hand strayed up to Arden’s collar and then to his throat to find warm skin.

Arden flashed a smile. “You did say you wanted to be ‘a little wild’ once, unless I heard you wrong.”

Mattin’s face was surely colors of red never seen outside of a sunset. He kept his gaze firmly on Arden and hoped his hood would preserve some of his dignity. He bit his lip and pretended to consider, even though Arden must know what Mattin wanted, since he took Mattin’s hand from his neck to press kisses to Mattin’s knuckles.

“What would…” Mattin lowered his voice even more “…seducing me entail exactly? Nothing too public?” Mattin was alarmingly breathless at the possibility.

“Mattin Arlylian,” Arden leaned in to pronounce the name, soft and careful, over Mattin’s ear, “that is your choice. A room if you like, or the nearest alley if you prefer.”

Mattin’s breath noisily caught in his throat and he ducked his head to wheeze and cough against Arden’s chest. “Arden,” he croaked.

As if that had told him Mattin’s choice, Arden practically purred over the top of Mattin’s head. “A room, then. Like secret, illicit lovers… though of course Mil will be delighted to hear of it.”

Mattin whined quietly but it was not an objection.

#a suitable consort (for the king and his husband)#a suitable 'verse #r. cooper #charity prompt #charity prompts 2023

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