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cowboydisaster · 5 months

Note

I have no idea about the historical accuracy of this but imagine a reader who used to be in a pretty well off family (think like the braithwaites level in society) but she left it all and gave everything up to be with Arthur. It’s her first Christmas away from her family and she misses the Christmas tree back home. Queue Arthur cutting a tree down with his big manly man strength and dragging it back to camp to surprise her🥲

* ˚ ✦ Stardust * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 4k a/n: margo!! This prompt was too cute. I kinda took it and RAN so I hope I did it justice! xx

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: SEVEN days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

If there's one thing you haven't gotten used to in this way of life, it's the elements. Camp is situated in Big Valley along the Upper Montana River. It's beautiful, and more open country than you've ever seen in your life. But damn, is it cold in winter. Snow drifts down from Mount Shann, creating a beautiful flurry of white around camp, albeit a freezing one.

At this moment, though, the cold doesn't bother you. In the safety of your tent, back tucked against Arthur's chest, it's impossible for the cold to reach you. He keeps you warm. Like a furnace, that man. You'd be worried he was running a fever if you weren't so used to his toasty-warm temperature.

You shuffle against Arthur, readjusting in the soft cotton cot. The wind whispers quietly outside, peacefully. Gone is the loud whipping ice storm that had come through a week or so ago. It's been replaced by a quiet falling of snow, the creak of nearby oaks.

“Darlin’? What is it?” Arthur whispers, voice sleepy against your ear. The hand that's hung over your waist squeezes gently, a small act of encouragement to respond. You smirk. You can picture his face, eyes closed, or half-lifted, eyebrows knitting with worry.

“What's wrong?” He whispers again. The hand on your waist flattens against your stomach, gently pulling you back towards him.

Oh, your Arthur. His heart is perfectly in tune with yours, and well, when yours is sunk, he notices. A peculiar little thing you've discovered– he always notices those small details, those small fluctuations in your mood. On top of that, he always addresses them.

Those selfless personality traits are why you left the city in the first place. Arthur is genuine, real. He's caring, and he communicates with you when you're upset. Your mamá and papá were far too concerned with selling you off to the most eligible bachelor in Saint Denis to care about your feelings. The bachelor's characteristics were of no importance, just his wealth and status in society. That life was… a load of shit, as your dear Arthur would say.

You'd started sneaking downtown at night to get away from the chaos of your home. Your parents were always fighting and screaming. Broken dishes and ringing ears became a staple in that house. La Bastille Saloon was a short walk from your house on Flavian Street. And that's where you met Arthur.

Despite his career, you immediately recognized him to be the first honest man that you'd ever met in your life. In a mere thirty seconds of conversation, you'd found a depth to him that your father could never scratch, a kindness that no arranged husband would show you. And so it became a habit. You'd sneak out of your window a few times a week, meeting him at La Bastille– talking, laughing, drinking. Arthur's whiskey burned far more than the French wine you'd sipped on in your life. Where you came from, drinking was for show. To sip on a glass of imported chablis was to assert class, but Arthur taught you how to drink for fun. He'd taught you how to play cards and how to cure a hangover. Your parents would be mortified at your unladylike behavior.

Arthur showed you fun, and kindness, spontaneity and honesty in a world that you thought was without those virtues. When Arthur had asked you to join him, it was an easy yes. He laid it all out. the good, the bad and the ugly. Criminals, you'd be joining. He was afraid that you would turn away, but crime is no stranger to you. Coming from high society, you saw the rich take from the poor time and again. You saw laundering and fraud, servitude, coercion and arranged murder.

All your family does is twist lies for their own benefit. They're all snakes, sinking their teeth into everything they come across. Gluttonous in their pursuit to expel venom. It has drowned the whole city of Saint Denis, sunk into the cobblestone roads and poisoned the entire place.

You see more honesty in the Van der Linde's life of crime than in your family's. At least the Van der Lindes are honest about what they do, and only rob from those who rob from others.

Leaving with Arthur was the most freeing feeling you've ever experienced. You love him with all your heart. You love the gang, and your new life, and yet even with all that you've gained, you still left so much behind. Joining Arthur; it's the best decision you've ever made, and you don't regret it for a moment, but the approaching holiday is bringing out sadness, memories of your childhood, friends that you'd left in the city. Any good memory of the city is recalled through rose tinted glasses, but still, it's beginning to sting now that it's almost Christmas.

“Darlin’?” Arthur says, the grogginess no longer evident in his voice. He pulls you back to the present like a tether. His thumb drags soothingly over your hip bone, and underneath the thick blankets, you lay your hand atop his.

“Hmm?” You offer.

“Where's your head at?” Arthur whispers, breath against your ear.

“Oh, just thinking.” You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. It's a sad smile, bittersweet. If a candle were lit, and he could see it, Arthur would be much more worried.

His fingertips brush your hair away from your face, gently pulling some strands behind your ear towards the braid they have escaped from.

Arthur lifts his hand from you, adjusting the blankets as you turn over in bed. Once you're facing him, he makes sure that all of the blankets cover your frame.

“It's just that this will be my first Christmas away from home.”

A small silence ensues. One that threatens to let tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Your nose tucks into Arthur's chest as you sniffle, hoping he hasn't taken your words with offense. This is your home now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. But old habits die hard.

“You missin’ home?” Arthur whispers between kisses to your hair. You shake your head quickly

“No-no. I don't want you to think-”

“Baby, I ain't gonna give you a hard time ‘cause you're missin’ home. Hell… my childhood weren’t nothin’ but a world of pain, and sometimes I miss it.”

You should have expected his understanding. Arthur's never made you feel foolish for your feelings. His hand traces along your hip, keeping you warm and coaxing you to settle back into the comfortable space that he’s surrounded you with.

“I’m finding it difficult.” You whisper, “The holidays are coming up, and they’re bringing lots of memories. Fond ones, things I don’t want to forget.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well…” You crack a small smile, eyes going far away, back to old memories long ago, “Papá would have a Christmas tree shipped from Cumberland forest, only the best for him of course.” You chuckle, and Arthur smiles for the sweet sound.

“And we would decorate it with candles, blown glass, popcorn and cranberries. Oh, it was such a sight Arthur.” You say, a wonder in your voice. The memories are crystal clear in your head. Bright colors, laughter, songs.

Arthur's Christmas memories don't bring much joy. Except for the year his daddy didn't come home. Still, the way your eyes have lit up– Arthur wishes he could have experienced the Christmas that you're describing. He wishes he could see you with that much joy.

“Have you ever seen a Christmas tree?” You ask, rekindling that tether and pulling him back to you.

“Nah, only in the papers. I ain't never lived nowhere so fancy to have a Christmas tree.”

“It was so beautiful…” You whisper, a chill running down your spine. You hardly notice it, but Arthur pulls you closer nonetheless, his body heat wrapping around you like the warmest of blankets.

“It seemed as if when the tree was decorated and we all sat together, maybe it was not so bad.” You murmur, and the wonder dissipates from your eyes, replaced with reality.

Arthur waits for you to collect your thoughts. A whistle of wind breaks the silence before you do.

“Ah, I'm sorry for this show of emotion. It's silly of me.”

He shakes his head, forehead gently meeting yours. Your eyes marvel up at Arthur, making out the deep blue of his eyes from a stretch of moonlight that's infiltrated the room.

“You ain't ever gotta apologize for gettin’ emotional, sweetheart. Not with me.”

All you can do is nod, feeling again like a schoolgirl with butterflies running rampant in your stomach. His breath traces your face, noses just barely lining each other.

His lips meet yours, soft and sweet. Your heart soars like it does every time he kisses you. It's something that you're sure you won't ever get used to. But something you're hoping to find familiarity in, because you never want to stop kissing him.

He pulls away all too soon for your liking, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. When he hears your small whine, he huffs.

“I know, get back to sleep baby, I'll still be here in the mornin’.”

It doesn't take long for you to slip back into slumber, not with the soft whisper of the wind, and the cocoon of warmth around you. Arthur practically carries you across the threshold into sleep with the way his arms wrap around you.

In the little tent, deep in the snow, Arthur begins to hatch his plan. He kisses your head, climbing over you and out of bed to light a candle. It provides just enough light to illuminate the pages of his journal. Just enough light for him to illustrate his surprise.

He had promised you– all those months ago, when he'd packed your bags onto his horse and ridden you out of the city– that he would do anything and everything to make you happy. It's a promise that he intends to keep

— — —

a few days later

“This is the one.” Arthur marvels, sparkling eyes cast upwards toward the fullest, greenest evergreen in Cumberland Forest. You deserve nothing but the best, and he’s sure that he’s found it.

Arthur takes a short moment to pull out his journal, dusting some fallen snow from the leather cover. He sketches the tree, a way for him to remember the moment. To remember how the tree had been, perfectly untouched in nature. He takes his time, back propped against the unhitched wagon in the forest, hat covered in a thick dusting of snow. A few flakes even drop onto the page, melting and smudging his charcoal.

When the branches are sketched to his liking, he accompanies them with a quick passage and closes the book.

For the lady. Christmas. 1899.

When the book snaps shut and is stuffed back into his journal, he looks up, finding a questioning look on his trusted stallion’s face.

“What?” Arthur’s brow furrows, “I’ll plant another one.”

The stallion sighs.

Arthur moves around the back of the wagon, pulling an ax from the toolbox, dusting some snow off the handle with gloved hands. The ground is covered in a thick layer of white, the horses too. They press their noses together, whinnying and rumbling, entertaining each other with horse-typical play in the snow.

“Jasper. Sugar. Quit bein’ sweet on one another, we got work to do.” Arthur calls back to the two horses. What a pair, those two.

Jasper is Arthur’s stallion. He’s well behaved. Shy. Obedient. Then there’s Sugar. She was a gift from Arthur to you. White as snow and wild as the wind. She still is, despite all of her training.

Arthur had brought the pair of them with the wagon to pull the tree back to camp. But now, Sugar seems more interested in kicking up snow, and well– Jasper is only interested in following Sugar around, hearts practically emitting from his eyes.

Snow falls in thick flakes, dotting Arthur’s red flannel and melting against the thick material. He pays it no mind. The snowfall silences the forest, save for the rhythmic whack…whack of Arthur’s ax hitting the evergreen, and the softened sound of playful hooves in the snow.

“Don’t tire yourselves out.” Arthur huffs to the horses, “Jesus.”

A few more swings of the ax, and the tree begins to fall. It hits the ground with a thud, not nearly as loud as Arthur imagined it would be. But, the snow softened the fall, he supposes.

In a matter of minutes, the tree is in the wagon. Just a few more, and Jasper and Sugar are pulling it home.

If everything is going according to plan, right now you should be with Marybeth, picking holly. She had taken you out, because she had “wanted to spruce up camp a bit.” Little do you know, the little adventure is a part of Arthur’s plan. With you away from camp, he was able to borrow Sugar, take Jasper, and get the tree. With you away from camp, the final touches can fall into place.

Arthur gently taps the reins over the horse’s backs, urging them into a faster canter along the beaten down snow path back towards camp.

“Hyah! C’mon, we’re pushin’ it.” He calls to the horses. The little golden bells on their harnesses jingle and ring as he pushes them towards camp, massive evergreen in tow. He checks his pocket watch, cursing quietly before putting it away. Sadie should be done by now.

It’s not long before the horses are pulling into camp, large puffs of white billowing out from their noses as they catch their breath. Arthur hops down from the wagon, his hand running along the expanse of it as he reaches the back.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp. He makes his way towards the wagon, “Now this is how we celebrate Christmas!”

The evergreen nearly overtakes the wagon, branches sticking out from all directions, billows of snow still stuck to them. Dutch has no idea how Arthur managed to get it into the wagon. An approaching Hosea is just as flabbergasted.

“You know, I never took you to be much of a romantic, Arthur. But this might just prove me wrong.” Hosea

“Whatever you say. Now, quit gawkin’ and help me get this big bastard up.” Arthur mumbles, grabbing the thick tree by the trunk and pulling it down. Sap sticks to his hands as he begins to drag it out of the wagon. Carrying it into the center of camp is a group effort– much easier than Arthur getting it into the wagon by himself.

“I reckon you two can handle this. I got some other things to check up on.” Arthur steps back, sizing the tree up and down.

“Run along then and leave us the hard work.” Dutch muses, within earshot of Arthur.

“Figured it would do your old bones some good to do real work, Dutch!” Arthur hollers back over his shoulder, chuckling to himself as he makes his way towards the circle of tents.

“Mrs. Adler?” Arthur hollers, approaching the A-frame tent, “You in there?”

Before he can part the white canvas tent, Sadie emerges, and he backs up.

“You get it done?” Arthur asks, cheeks tinged bright pink from the cold. Hat white instead of black. Sadie chuckles for it.

“Did I get it done?” Sadie mocks with a huff, “A’ course I got it done.”

From her tent, she pulls out a Christmas tree garland. A string carefully woven through dried cranberries and popped corn. It's beautiful and long. It must have taken her hours to make. Arthur’s eyes go wide in small wonder as she transfers the garland to him.

“S’perfect, Sadie. She’s gonna love this.”

A wide, bittersweet smile stretches across Sadie’s face, “Jake taught me how,” there is a pause as Arthur nods in understanding, “Now go. Go decorate it for your woman.” Sadie smirks.

“Dear boy! Dear boy, how does it look?” Hosea calls out, and Arthur’s attention shoots towards the tree. They have it standing upright now, perfectly in the center of camp. It stands tall, a real beauty.

“Perfect.” He gapes at it, wishing he could have done something like this when he was younger– hoping that it will live up to your memories. Arthur doesn’t have the money to buy fancy ornaments, but he’s doing everything in his power to make it special for you.

With the help of the horses and the wagon, everyone manages to wrap the garland the whole way around the tree, even up to the top. The little trail of white and red looks beautiful against the dark green of the pine. Arthur places lit candles in holders on the branches, casting a beautiful hazy glow that lights up the tree. Camp members begin to gather, circling around the tree, watching and helping. Mrs. Grimshaw offers some holly. Karen offers some candy canes that she had bought in town, hanging them from the branches.

The sun begins to set, and Arthur checks his watch, knowing that you’ll be back any minute. A small tug on his pants pulls his attention downwards.

“Uncle Arthur?” Little Jack whispers, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the tree lights, “I made this for you! For you to put it on auntie's tree!”

Arthur’s brow furrows, and he glances quickly up to Abigail, who is smiling warmly. Jack reaches into his little bag and pulls out a beautiful paper star. He has apparently put a lot of time and effort into folding and cutting the paper into a perfect little topper. Jack’s little hands extend the star up to Arthur, the smile on his face brighter than any of the tree’s candles.

“You made this?” Arthur asks.

“Yep, I sure did! Momma even helped me cut the paper!”

Arthur kneels on the ground– eye level with Jack, a smirk on his lips, “I think we better put it on the top then, don't you?”

“Oh yes! It would be perfect on top! I just hope aunt y/n likes it…”

“She’ll love this, buddy.”

With some more help from a very grumpy Sugar, Arthur manages to place the star perfectly on the tree top. And just in time, apparently.

When Arthur steps back, taking in the tree for all its glory, his jaw falls slack, eyes filling up with wonder.

It's beautiful. At dusk, the candles shine brightly. The garland has attracted a few red cardinals, and they rest in the branches, comfortable in the new camp tree. Everyone looks in awe. It’s perfect.

— — —

“No peekin’.” Arthur whispers in your ear from behind, his hands covering your eyes. He slowly walks you forwards towards… something. He hasn’t explained anything to you, just… kidnapped you right outside of camp. You’ve been walking with him, eyes covered for nearly five minutes.

“Oh, Arthur, what is going on!?” You giggle, hands covering the length of his own, a smile plastered on your face.

“S’a surprise, darlin’. That’s why you can’t peek.” Arthur’s voice whispers from behind you, his chest nearly pressed against your back as he inches you forward.

You roll your eyes. Suddenly, his footsteps are still behind you, and you stop in return.

“Is this why I was stuck in the forest picking berries all day?” You ask. Arthur huffs.

“Shhh. We’re here.” He shushes.

Your heart quickens with excitement, bottom lip tight between your teeth with anticipation. As much as you try to listen for any clues, all you can hear is the munching of hay and the crackle of the campfire– typical for camp after dusk.

“Arthur…?” You whisper, almost afraid to break the quiet. Anticipation swirls in your stomach, followed by anxiety tickling up your spine.

His calloused hands pull away from your eyes, and your lashes flutter as you focus on the sight in front of you.

It’s… a christmas tree. Your jaw falls slack, and as unladylike as it may be, you can’t help it. A small gasp escapes your rosy lips.

It must be twelve feet high, and it's thick with branches. Candles, and decor wrap around the tree like a dress tailored to perfection. Color and light burst from the beautiful tree, and before you can control yourself, tears are welling up in your eyes.

“Arthur, I–” Your voice cracks, the tears almost spilling over.

“Darlin’?” Arthur’s thumb softly brushes the inside of your hand. For a moment, he worries that he’s misstepped terribly. The sight of your tears brings forth a small panic, quelled by the outburst of your smile. Tears fall freely from your eyes, but they are of joy– not sadness.

“You got me– You got me a Christmas tree?” You smile, wiping away the tears as he envelopes you into his warm arms. You sniffle, laughs of pure joy escaping into his chest as he holds you tight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Arthur whispers to you, arms wrapped around your waist. The light from the tree dances in your eyes, almost as beautiful and bright as your smile.

“Oh, Arthur, it’s perfect.” You gasp, eyes glued to the tree, pulling away to glance into Arthur’s eyes, “How ever did you get it here?”

“With a little help.” Arthur nods towards the horse station where Sugar and Jasper are laying in the hay, nuzzling each other sweetly. As if knowing, Sugar whinnies towards you softly, followed by a quiet neigh from Jasper.

Your eyes wander back towards the tree in front of you, and then to Arthur once again. His hands slide down from your waist, thumbs settling into the dimples in your back.

“It's beautiful.” You say.

“It’s all yours.”

In all of your life, Arthur has been the first person to cater to your emotions– to care about them. Your heart fills with love, so much that it overflows and floods the earth at your feet. Soaking into the ground of the camp, touching the hearts of the others around you.

“I love you.” You whisper, head resting on Arthur’s chest, eyes fixed on a cardinal that’s pecking at the popped corn on the tree.

“I-” Arthur pauses, realizing. His brow furrows, eyes flickering down, “Wait, what?”

“I said I love you.” You reiterate, chin propped on his chest to look up at him. Arthur looks nearly blown away by the words. Words he’s not heard from you yet. Words that he’s nearly let slip time and again over the past few months.

Arthur’s lips crack into a smile, crows feet wrinkling for the action. His thumb brushes your cheek before trailing down to your chin, pulling you in towards his lips. You lean on your tiptoes, brushing your lips against his, meeting him with all the love and joy that you never thought would be possible for you. He’s taken you from a bad situation, and given you everything you could have wanted and more. Your lips press against his, pink-tinged noses lining each other. Your eyes flutter shut, snowflakes catching in your thick lashes as you deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the base of his neck, your tongues dance with one another.

When you pull away to breathe, your eyes lock with his, sparkling with light.

“I love you too.” He smirks, hands wrapping under your thighs, eliciting giggles from you as he hoists you into his arms. Fat snowflakes fall into your hair as Arthur turns towards your tent, ready to carry you to bed.

“No- wait!” You grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks, “Please, Arthur- just five more minutes. I’d like to keep looking at the tree.”

Arthur pauses, brushing your cold cheek, “Alright. Five more minutes.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your hair.

The tree shines bright as ever, as if god had sprinkled stardust down from the heavens, painting your tree in beautiful white light.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

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rosemaze-reveries · 5 months

Note

Ithaqua and Joseph and a sleepy reader hcs please? If not that’s ok 💕

bartender.... sleepytime tea please.... and make it a double

Ithaqua 🌪️

Ithaqua is fiercely protective of his boundaries, making him seem aloof towards most things. But when he gets close with someone, it’s like a switch goes off in him.

He fusses over you often -- trekking through the snow, he’ll always keep a hand hovering around you in case you trip. He also likes to walk directly in front of you while holding your hand, knowing you tend to lose focus of your surroundings when you’re drowsy.

Has a knack for soothing you to sleep, replicating techniques that his mother would use on him: humming her lullabies to you, stroking your hair, or softly talking with you until you’re too tired to keep going.

Everyday he hangs your blankets by the fire, so they’re warm and toasty whenever you need them. He wishes he thought of doing this when his mom was around, but he’s happy to do it for you now.

Doesn’t really cuddle with you. He feels more secure sitting in a nearby chair where he can watch over you.

The most he’ll do is hold your hand, or sometimes even let you pull him down for a kiss... but you’d have a hard time getting him to leave that chair. He’s always on guard in case of unwelcome visitors.

Joseph 📸

Joseph looks forward to finding you asleep in random spots around the manor. It means he can carry you back to bed <3

He has a very gentle, rhythmic walk, so you usually sleep through it. But every once in a while you wake up in his arms, and he jokingly complains that you’ll sleep anywhere except next to him.

It’s common for you to come over to wherever he’s sitting and rest your head against his shoulder. He’ll bring you into his lap so you can rest comfortably, and also use the chance to take a break himself.

The type to keep saying he’s got work to do, but doesn’t resist you at all. You’re always a very welcome interruption.

He fell into a habit of playing with your fingers while you doze off next to him. Now, even when you’re not there, his hand mindlessly wanders to find you.

He’ll act as if he was reaching for something else, whether or not someone was watching him.

Waking you up is one of his favorite things to do. He loves watching you curl into his chest for one more minute of warmth, and he’ll pepper kisses up your jawline as an apology for disrupting your sleep <3

#identity v #idv imagines #idv x reader #identity v x reader #ithaqua x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader #night watch x reader #photographer x reader #idv x you #identity v x you #joseph desaulniers x you #ithaqua x you #idv ithaqua

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mellowsaturns · 1 year

Text

no place like home

STEVE ROGERS X READER

summary: a sweet moment with steve when you come home tired and sleepy

warnings: fluff, soft!steve

wc: 1.1k

---

Unlocking the door to your apartment, the only thing you could think of was your beloved bed and how you couldn’t wait to hide under the covers and stay there for the entire weekend.

It had been a busy week and your human body was completely, utterly and wholly worn out.

Taking off your shoes and draping your coat across the kitchen counter, you let your eyes rest for a second before familiar arms made their way around your waist.

“Missed you sweetheart,” a voice murmured into your ear.

Spinning around, you were met with the light blues that you love so much.

“Steve,” you whispered, “I thought you weren’t coming back until Sunday?”

He hummed. “Mission went smoother than we thought. Got what we needed and got out as quickly as we could.”

You silently thanked the Gods once again for bringing Steve back to you in one piece before leaning into him.

He rested his head on top of yours. “Hard week?”

You nodded into his chest. “Just wanna get in bed,” you mumbled, although you were sure it came out as a string of incomprehensive rubbish.

He lets out a small chuckle before asking, “Have you eaten yet?”

You nodded. “I had something before I came back.”

You could fall asleep right there and then. Steve was so warm, a stark contrast from the chilly winds that nicked at your cheeks on the way back home. And as if he heard your thoughts, he pulled away from the sweet embrace, “C’mon, I’ll prepare a warm bath for you.”

As you entered the bathroom with a change of clothes, the imagine of Steve dropping some of your essential oils into the water as he double checked the temperature made you smile. He took care of you so well, though he obviously dropped too much of it into the water—you’re going to spend the whole weekend smelling like a lavender garden. But the fact that he tried and was doing this for you filled your tummy with butterflies.

You’re not a superhero, so he doesn’t need to bandage you up and take care of you in ways you do with him. But in return, he does these little things for you that you never fail to notice, like going the extra mile to get coffee and pastries at the bakery you love so much in the mornings; making sure he places everything in reachable height whenever the two of you come back home from grocery shopping; carrying you all the way home on his back when you complain your shoes were killing you and a new book showing up on your desk a week after mentioning it once. And of course, as your superhero, he protects you from the occasional alien attacks in New York City and masterminds who wants to take over the world—all threats that jeopardize your future together, he once said.

“It’s ready,” he confirmed, leading you to the white tub. “Want me to leave?”

You didn’t miss the playfulness of his voice and snorted. “Go keep the bed toasty for me you human furnace.”

He grinned, “Whatever you say, boss.”

Although he was The Captain everywhere else, he was completely at your mercy—he just loves you that much.

After a well deserved soak and Steve coming in halfway to insist he give you a shoulder rub to untangle the knots in your muscles, you feel much, much lighter. He was so good with his hands and always knew what you needed. You finished up with your routine and slipped into your pyjamas shortly.

And finally, the thing you wanted most ever since you started your journey home: crawling into the comfort of your bed. And it so happened that the love of your life was there too, perched up against the headrest and examining the book you were in the middle of—the one he got you a few days ago before he left for his mission.

Steve pulled you into his chest. “Want me to read to you?”

“Mhm. Please.”

It was funny. You were craving sleep all day but now that Steve was here with you, all you wanted was to stay awake and savour every second with him instead. If you were being honest, you weren’t paying attention to the narration of the book at all. You were too busy trying to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, but the way Steve was tracing his fingers up and down your back slowly and gently and sweetly was making it very hard to stay awake.

Steve knew you weren’t paying attention, he could tell by the way you were quiet, not piping in every few minutes to voice your opinion or ask questions like the curious thing you were. And there were your slight head jolts from time to time when dreamland almost hits but not quite. It was cute, he thought internally. But Steve kept reading to you anyways, his voice acting like a lullaby. Because if he stopped, he knows you’re going to find a way to try and stay awake with him even though he knows you’re exhausted.

Shutting your eyes, you told yourself you were just resting them for a while. With this, you were able to pick up some of the words that were coming out of Steve’s mouth. His voice was nice. The safety of your apartment was nice. The warmth of the bath earlier was nice. But nothing beats snuggling with Steve. With your head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly and securely around you, it was your favourite place on earth. With Steve, it was always safe and warm. It was home.

You picked up a “love you” from him, but you could have sworn the book wasn’t a romance. The corner of your mouth twitched upright just before the drowsiness took over, finally lulling you to dreamland.

Steve stopped reading a while ago. And when those cute little breaths of yours left your mouth, he placed the book back onto the nightstand, remembering to place the bookmark back to the original page you left off even though he read four chapters to you.

As he turned off the lamp, he looked down at your serene state once more. When he first came out of the ice, it didn’t feel right—didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. And that all changed when he met you. It was then he could say he found a place in this strange new world. A home. You were home. He’s the luckiest man on earth, he thought, before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, closing his eyes and meeting you in your dreams.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers drabble

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crescencestudio · 1 year

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SLEEPY TOASTY happy bday to the precious bean

the way i thought about drawing toasty fanart for their bday and then decided not to and then saw the robo bday fanart and decided i actually did indeed have to draw something

#blooming panic #bloomic #nakedtoaster #other games

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acidictoastie · 4 months

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Being a disabled artist sucks!

I have SO MUCH motivation, but I am in too much PAIN to function

#txt #txt post #queer and disabled artist #disabled artist #help #i have so many art ideas #too many #artblock #artists on tumblr #sleepy thoughts with toastie

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 months

Note

i just took a shower and now i cant stop thinking about moth boy loving showers

like, poor boy got so upset when he realised he was too big to join you in he bath like he's seen ajax doing from the back of his mind, so he's ecstatic when he finds out your shower is just big enough for the both of you!

he'd definitely love the feeling of the warm water running down his hair and wings, i headcanon that he's designed to spend long periods of time underwater due to ajax's hydro vision so the feeling of water rushing over him is a familiar feeling that he relishes in when it's not happening during battle until he gets shampoo in his eye

big moth man purring while getting his floof dried with the warm hair dryer aadhgfh my heart <3333

(he would also probably try to decipher the "ruins and symbols" that you make with your stray hairs on the shower wall)

dearest lord of moth, please take my thoughts and make something of them (if you have the time lol) 🙏

*furiously takes notes* yes yes please continue

listen listen LISTEN. when Foul Legacy is in the shower and he feels the water raining down and running over him, he does a happy little wing flutter with a delighted chirp, shaking himself so his wings don't become too waterlogged. he loooooves watching you wash your hair too, all the suds and tiny bubbles the shampoo makes look so fluffy, and if he's feeling brave he'll try to scritch your scalp with his claws to help you out. genuinely, Legacy would stay sitting in the shower for hours if it didn't rack up your water bill, but after a while he'll reluctantly get out because he remembers that hot water costs money with his vague knowledge of how Childe deals with expenses and bills- not before turning off the shower and shaking any excess water off, of course

you're always waiting for him with the hairdryer in hand, gesturing for him to sit in front of you with a soft laugh. you gently pat his shoulder when you turn on the hairdryer- neither of you like the loud sound it makes- feeling him stiffen before relaxing as the warm air begins seeping into his bones. his hair and fluff are always especially poofy and soft after being dried, and Legacy just melts more and more the longer you work, on the verge of falling over once you turn the hairdryer off. he lets out small, drowsy chitters when you brush his fur and hair, making sure there aren't any mats or tangles and also that your fluffy Abyss monster doesn't dissolve into a pile of goo while you're at it. only when he's perfectly dry do you nudge his shoulder again, watching him make a beeline for the bed and promptly flop onto the covers, looking at you pleadingly to join him. he's very warm and toasty right now, so he won't need any covers- just you as his pillow, nuzzling against your stomach with a sleepy purr as you stroke his hair to help him fall asleep

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zaynsxsoul · 11 months

Text

Honey sunbathed summer | Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: sleepy summer afternoon at the trailer park, ice cream debates, and sloppy kisses with Eddie ♡

warnings: 1k words, fluff, curse words, established relationship, play fighting, teasing, just a short cozy summer drabble

my masterlist

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The heated rejoicing colors of purple, blue and coral red, light brightly the dozy sunday skies of Forest Hills Trailer park. The flushed summer sunset rises the glossy evening, which is only around two hours away until the moon begins its hike within the stars.

The four p.m. afternoon has a certain magical aura to it. The one when simpleness turns into mere worthy admiration. The start of summer at Hawkins usually has that effect.

Right in front of the limit that crosses the division between the quiet forest and the trailer park, lies a kiddy pool that’s being more than enjoyed by children whose voices reflect the excitement of the simpleness that water gives at any age.

A racing water slip slide is set right across Eddie’s trailer too. A hose sends the right amount of water and soap ratio for it to be slippery enough for the nine year olds who play some sort of made up secret coded game that only they understand. The watermist kisses the tip of your nose from time to time.

The thought of summer accompanied by fudgy banana splits, water, the smoky whiff of a deliciously glazed barbecue aroma coming from nearby, forest tree leaves transporting the warm heat, and the essence of freshly mowed lawn that vaporizes the smell of wet dirt and grass, never fails to spike a shot of serotonin.

And within the immortalized echo of the melody produced by the bustle from the neighbors, wind chimes, the evening honey whiff, water splashes and cicadas, your laughter fades into that chorus among Eddie’s voice.

Because although outside on his porch the heat is still unbearable, skin being sticky under your two piece playsuit, and every texture feeling fuzzy and icky, that doesn’t even come close to ruining spending time with him.

The smell of your coconut scented sunscreen feels like summer itself. Even more when you had applied it, –or more like bathed— Eddie’s reluctant scrunched face in it as well.

And how couldn’t you? after the awful experience of his almost burnt to shrimp-skin the other day at the pool. But as impossible as it seems, even with gooey sunscreen that draws a line from his cheeks and down his nose, he looks radiant, sitting just a few inches away from you.

With hair pulled back and a low pony from which some reluctant little hairs fall, he smiles. It’s hard not to think about how enchantingly adorable he is with that hairstyle. As adorable as you’d love to squish his little face and make him turn love sick out of kisses.

His torso is covered by a very thin black fabric shirt. Your bare leg brushes from time to time with his knee. And you can swear that his warmth adds even more heat to the afternoon. A certain type of heat that you probably don’t mind feeling.

He himself is in awe at the beautifully deified sight of your cheeks, plum red and glossy, at the way your legs sit crossed in front of his and move sporadically, how your shoulders shine and bathe golden under the toasty sun. And he can’t help but adore the way your eyebrows furrow, concentrating on the deck of twenty plus cards that you hold right below your face.

“You’ve had the worst luck today” He mocks. The cheshire cat-like grin teasing ever more when you’re taking your sweet time to pick a card.

“I can’t let you win again.” You pout, arms falling down as if you were mid-surrender. “It means you’d win over my Candy Center Crunch!” He chuckles boyishly, and you react with a mixture between an eye roll and a grin when you understand the reason why. “You’re being dirty”

“Funny Feet would be better though” The sight of his spread abdomen, glimmering with water and sweat when he leans back being supported by his hands is surely divine.

“Eddie! God, that sounds even worse” He can’t help but smile stupidly at the sight of your nose scrunch. “Do I honestly have to not just bear with you stealing my ice cream but also underestimating it for a Funny Feet popsicle?”

“Uh tut-tut, not stealing, winning, snippy” He reprimands playfully.

“Who even likes funny feet? I’d only let you undermine center crunch over a snoopy ice pop or choco taco”

“What?” And he sounds crushed. Like if you had said the most insultingly revolting thing ever. “The snoopy ice pop sucks, babe” He states mid chuckle. “It’s just fake marshmallow. Fuck, it’s not even an ice pop”

“It is an ice pop!”

“If there’s no fruit or water is not an ice pop” He states.“you only like it because it’s a dog” You shrug, playfully ticked.

“It’s not any dog, Eddie, it’s Snoopy” He pinches the doughy soft flesh of your thigh gently after the correction.

“Either way, I won”

By laying his last remaining card on the main deck, his victory is endured. Cheerful hands shake your shoulders back and forth in a celebratory motion until the palms also drum your legs gently.

And you still can't believe that he is walking over to the kitchen and taking your beloved crunchy ice cream out of the fridge, much less how he is mocking you by showing it and smiling like a child from where he stands.

“Fuck, this is so good”

Your eye almost twitches when he plops on the couch, and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to follow and sit beside him. The coldness of the tin-like material is dripping water.

You’re staring deeply.

With the corner of his eye and a smile evoked from the edge of his lips, he looks at you in amusement while fidgeting with the crinkly bag. As if seeing you like this was the funniest thing he’d ever experienced.

And in the back of his mind, when the ice cream is already out of the wrapper, he actually feels bad by just the sight of the way your eyes reflect those of a puppy imploring for food.

“Here” He hands it over, although you don’t take it yet. “You can see it”

“Stop it!” His burlesque snort that mocks your plea turns into a gasp when you push his own hand when he leans for a bite.

The taste of revenge is sweet. Quite literally.

The expression on your face changes to a splendid smile, observing his vainilla covered cheek and reminiscing the way it landed there because of you.

“Give me a bite” You pout. mouth watering at the sight of his lips and teeth sinking into it

He nods. Unbothered by the cream that drips from his face. You wish you could seem more stern, but when he’s leaning near your face making a growling lion sound ready to bite into your cheek, It’s absurdly impossible to not break down to giggles.

“You know what I mean, Eds”

“No! you bet on this, you little cheater. Plus, look at what you just did” His finger points at his distressed cheek, as if you hadn’t noticed yet.

“I can fix that”

Your hand presses onto his thigh while scooting over. The tip of your tongue licks expertly the trace of the sweet chocolate iridescence that drips from his lip, right where the vainilla drop slides. His skin is soft against your tongue.

From the proximity he can feel the scent of your perfume, the reminiscences of wildflower shampoo mixed in with sunscreen, pool chlorine and your own aroma. It’s a bewilderment that makes him shiver even inside of the heat box that his trailer is.

And when your face leans a little closer, his own gesture drops once you’re swiftly biting into the ice cream very slightly. A cold bit of the peanut covered chocolate crust falls to his leg, instantly melting over his warmth.

“Stop it” He laughs. “Thief” But it’s pointless to make a fuss out of it when he has already surrendered.

“Whoops, sorry” You say, the tip of your tongue licking the trace of the chocolate on his leg. And shortly after, the trace that melts down his fingers and knuckles.

“You can’t do that” You raise your eyebrows innocently. “This! with the cute little face and big eyes.”

“Why not? Always seems to work” The silence of the stare is gratifying, and when he grins it feels like he’s trying to say ‘it really fucking does’.

“You know? It’s real sad you stole from me, cause’ I had something else for ya’”

With a covered face behind rebel brown locks of hair that escaped the pony, he looks over his shoulder and seems to stretch to grab something. Sparks rise when he’s pulling out a beautiful snoopy ice pop that crinkles like the sound of heavenly chants.

“You got it for me?” When your smile turns into a dazzling glare, and your eyes shoot flickering stars, he yearns for the magnificent instant to last a little longer.

“Of course I did, I said I despise the snoopy fake ice pop, or ice cream or whatever, but shit, how I love that smile of yours when you see it.”

Moved by burning excitement, your hand moves to grab it, but when he pulls it away, your face naturally lands near his. So taking advantage of the situation, the skin of your cheek purposely but flawlessly rests on his jaw.

“Not so fast. What am I getting in return?” The magical sound of his question ardently stirs the butterflies on your lower belly.

“A bite out of it?”

When his mouth puckers expectantly, the sweetness of your kiss mends the itch of his expecting lips. The chocolate taste that lingers on him is heavenly, dipped proudly, praising the feeling. Your mouth is cold from the ice cream. His is colder.

It’s gooey, and messy, and sticky. And that’s what makes it so special.

When you pull away, a love sick smile welcomes you back from the celestial trip. And with nothing more to say other than thinking ‘well deserved’, he hands over the ice pop.

“Thank you, Teddie” You coo, pulling the bag away to reveal snoopy’s cheeky smile.

He might adore the proximity of the defining moment once you sit on his lap more than anything else. The dear moment pains and soothes his heart in the most beautiful ways.

“You’re welcome, ice pop” His giggles come out like a mewl.

From honey sunbathed shoulders, Eddie pulls you in closer to his chest. Serenity steps into the moment when his jawline bobs with each bite lolling you towards tranquility, when his arms hug you close, when his proximity is intimately tender. And although you’re both sticky and sweaty, it couldn’t be more insignificant right about now.

The sun is finally fading. And the sky prepares to welcome the night, which you hope comes with faith of a cooler breeze. through the open front door and blowing curtains, you admire with heavy eyelids the way the golden evening glimmers his skin.

And when the warmth of his embrace makes you dizzy, the taste of vanilla takes a trip down your taste buds, and laughter and the conversations from not so far away make your heart swole, you think there’s nowhere in this world you’d aspire more to be, than here.

Because when summer makes it’s glorious entrance, it means afternoons being spent just like this in Eddie’s company. Which always makes it all better.

Even better than Snoopy Ice creams, Crunch Center, and Choco Tacos all merged into one.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie st4 #st4 vol2

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allieisacrybaby · 2 days

Text

soft napping with danny thought

napping with danny is so comforting. whenever you shift he shifts to stay cuddled next to you because he has to have some part of him arm, leg, back touching you at all times. he’s also a personal space heater so if you run cold he’s scooping you up in his arms and keeping you nice and toasty.

also i feel like danny wouldn’t mind “wasting” an entire just to nap and laze in bed, only getting up when absolutely necessary. he just wants to spend all day in that in between state of sleepy and awake just snuggling and loving on you.

#been feeling not great and would kill for a nap with danny rn #greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner thought #gvf thought #greta van fleet thought #soft thought

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writer-by-the-sea · 1 year

Note

elliot w an asexual reader? trying to navigate and communicate their relationship and it ends in fluff maybe

Thank you to my friend @chenziee for helping me out with this. Please go take a look at all their Ace fics they have available in the One Piece fandom :)

Snuggled beneath the blankets, a toasty fire and a cheesy movie playing — a repeated date night like many others with the farmer that I would never grow tired of. They lean against me, their head resting on my shoulder as I take another sip of my wine. The popcorn we had earlier surprisingly paired well with the red wine, but now I felt myself becoming sleepy with the farmer here beside me keeping me warm and comfortable.

For a few weeks now, we’ve been seeing each other. Maybe not considered ‘official’ quite yet, but I could feel us moving in the same direction. Each night I spent with them I felt myself growing deeper feelings, feelings which I could only dream that they would return. As I cuddled closer to them, adjusting my position to place my arm across their shoulders, I knew that this was a relationship far beyond that of friends or even a new crush.

I was falling in love.

“Hey,” I mumbled when the movie credits began to roll, the soft singing of some unknown performer slipping through the speakers. “Do you mind if I stay the night?” I kept my gaze to the tv screen, knowing that if I were to make eye contact I might reveal just how nervous I was to ask this. Normally, in my past relationships, by this point we would be sleeping together. With my question I suddenly became aware of the old condom sitting in my wallet. Good lord, how old was that thing now? Hardly usable based on age alone, but the friction in my wallet had no doubt torn it to shreds.

I shook the thought away, there was no chance we’d be using that condom, let alone any condom tonight. I could tell the farmer has been apprehensive about becoming intimate, and if we were ever to move forward in that sense it would be when they were comfortable—

“Sure,” they replied with a smile, looking up at me while still relaxing on my shoulder, those gorgeous eyes luring me into a quick kiss on the lips. When they pulled back, they chewed at their bottom lip, their hands coming to sit in their lap while they fiddled with their thumbs. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

My heart dropped.

The worry in their eyes, their sudden shortness of breath, the way they were the one now avoiding my gaze as they stared down at their lap.

“Is there someone else?” I asked. My heart felt as if it could burst from my chest. Of course, this all made sense. Of all of the other bachelors and bachelorettes in town, there were much better options than me. Alex and his strength, Penny and her kindness, Harvey with his practice, Sebastian and his homegrown plants in the basement.

“What?” The farmer laugh, short and sweet. “No-“

“My god, are you dying?!”

“Elliott, no.”

“I’ll give you a kidney if you need it, just say the word.”

“I think we would need a blood test first…”

“Then let’s go to Harvey’s! He can see if I’m a match right now!”

“Elliott, I don’t want your kidney!”

“It’s perfectly healthy, I promise!” I pressed my lips together in thought for a moment before continuing. “Wait, does wine affect the kidney or is that the liver? Farmer it might not be that healthy after all but—“

“Elliott, No. Look, I’m ace.”

“Ace?” I paused. Ace. What on earth was ace? “You… don’t have kidneys? Like at all?”

“No, just,” the farmer covered their mouth, muffling themselves.

I took their free hand, holding it gently while I looked deep into their eyes. “Please, don’t cry. We can figure this out together, and I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

They shook their head, suddenly dropping the hand covering their mouth only to reveal their laugh. The farmer rolled back, forcing me to drop their hand as now both of their hands covered their face while they continued to laugh, only their laughter growing even louder.

“If you’re dying this isn’t funny.” I pouted.

“No, no—“ they snorted, tears now coming from their eyes. “This is hilarious—“

“I hardly find kidney failure funny—“

They sat up, wiping the tears from their eyes before the spoke. “I’m not dying.”

I let out a breath. “Oh thank heavens.”

“Ace means… well, it has to do with sex.”

“Ahh.. yes, ace.” Right. Ace…. “Actually, no. I don’t know what that means. Does it have to do with golfing? Or poker?” I scratched at the back of my head, it wasn’t that I wasn’t into role play, but I would play a very poor golf instructor.

The farmer snorted by trying to hold back another laugh. “No, it means I don’t want to have sex. As in… With most standard relationships… There is sexual attraction on both sides. I’m not… sexually attracted to anyone. I don’t get aroused in that sense.”

“Oh.”

“And if that’s an issue for you—“

“Are you… boyfriend attracted to me?”

The farmer tilted their head, baffled. “What?”

“If you don’t want to have sex, and if you’re not ‘sexually’ attracted to me, am I boyfriend material?”

“You don’t mind that I don’t want to have sex with you?”

“Will you keep watching cheesy movies with me and sharing your wine?”

“Well, yeah—“

I pulled them into a hug, kissing the top of their head before resting my chin there. “Then you’re stuck with me, darling.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay not having sex?” Their question was muffled by my shirt but still loud enough to be heard.

“Of course! If I get to spend time with you… I’ll be the happiest man alive.”

“Thank you, Elliott.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the ancient condom in my wallet that kept me from ever making an awkward move on you. It might even be old enough for a sip of that wine by now.”

“Liar. Let me see this thing.”

I chuckled and pulled away from them, taking out my wallet and plucking out the condom to be handed over. I didn’t even feel the ridge in it anymore, honestly how old was it?

“I’ve never even heard of this brand,” the farmer said while they inspected it.

I nodded. “Pretty sure their factory went up in flames many years ago.”

“Hm. Sounds like they didn’t protect themselves very well.” The farmer smirked and passed the condom back. “Thanks for being so understanding… I really appreciate that you’ve been so… not pushy.”

Sliding the condom back into my wallet for no reason, I laughed. “Not pushy Elliott at your service, my dear.”

They stood, taking my hand and dragging me along with them. “It’s late, we should head to bed.”

“As you wish… and hey,” I stopped, still holding their hand and made them look back at me. “If I ever make you uncomfortable, just let me know, alright?”

The farmer nodded and delivered a kiss to my cheek, their free hand coming to rest on my chest. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“You will always mean more to me than sex, I hope you know that.”

The sadness that flashed across their eyes was something I never wished to see again. I could only imagine how hard this must be for them, and relationships that may have ended because of it.

“My dick on the other hand… will be hard as a rock in the morning and I apologize in advance.”

“Elliot, oh my god!”

“It’s human nature!”

They groaned and smacked my chest. “You ruined the moment!”

“How could I ever?” I laughed and scooped them into my arms, my need for sleep now stronger than ever as I carried them into the bedroom. “When I love you as much as I do!”I dropped the farmer onto the bed, both of us giggling as I crawled under the sheets beside them.

They dropped their face into their pillow and sighed. “Don’t confess to me after talking about your dick. Tell me you love me again in the morning.”

I leaned over and kissed their cheek, earning a playful glare in return. “Anything for you.” I would make sure to tell them as many times as they needed to hear it.

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Note

Hiiiiiiiiiiiii!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ i would love a scene with Arthur and fem s/o cuddling up together and just chatting away about life and her telling him how handsome and attractive he is! also a bit of smooching if that’s okay with you! ❤️

Sweet Dreams

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: cuddles, kisses, and sweet dreams

a/n: Thank you for this lovely prompt! I really wanted to write some fluff, and I love this prompt. It's simple, sweet, heartwarming love, and I love that. The fluff in this is teeth rotting, no warnings necessary, and no smut, just cuddles and kisses. Also if you've noticed, I started putting my taglist at the bottom cause it takes up too much space up here.

You can't sleep. Your eyes run over the open page of your book, the same paragraph you've read nearly three times without the words ever sinking in. Glancing at Arthur's golden pocket watch that sits on his table, you see that it's nearly three in the morning, and you sigh. The book you're reading has an incredibly slow exposition, and you're left wondering if anything is ever going to happen as you slam the pages shut, tossing the book next to the watch. You leave the candle lit, and just as anxiety starts to plague your mind from the late hour, you hear footsteps approaching your tent. Then the canvas parts, and he walks through. As soon as his tired eyes fall on you, he smiles.

"You're back." You smile as Arthur comes forward. He looks tired, but not hurt or scuffed up. His black shirt carries some rust colored dirt, and the bags under his eyes are darker from not sleeping, but importantly, he looks safe and happy to be back. Being further south has brought out some of the freckles across his nose, and you smile, seeing that more have popped up today. All the worry and the boredom float away once your eyes are on him, safe and home. He feels the same. Once he's in his tent, the sight of you in his bed waiting for him eases all his worries. In a few long, sleepy strides, Arthur comes over to the bed, cupping your cheek as he places a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

"You didn't have to wait up for me sweetheart, it's late." Arthur whispers, stepping back to unclasp his gun belt. He turns away from you to place the worn belt and guns on a crate across from the bed, and you watch as he takes his satchel off and begins to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"Couldn't sleep without you." You reply, yawning and earning a smile from Arthur. He turns back towards you, pulling the shirt over his arms. As he kicks his boots off, he catches your eyes, and sees the warm glint to them.

"Why you lookin at me like that?" Arthur chuckles, wondering if it's the sleep deprivation that has you looking at him with such dreamy eyes. You smirk at the little confusion on his face, the holes on his union suit, the way his hair sticks up in places from his hat.

"Because I love you, and because you're quite a catch, Mr. Morgan." You admit, heart thrumming with more love than you ever thought possible as he pulls his jeans off, rolling his eyes. Now fully dressed down in his union suit, Arthur stands over the bed, chuckling.

"I reckon you've finally lost it." He jokes, always terrible with taking compliments.

"Shush, now come to bed. I'm cold." You ask of him, holding the blankets open so he can come into the warm cocoon you've created. Quickly he blows out the candle, letting the smoke float up to the ceiling in swirling wisps. Then he climbs into bed beside you. Immediately you curl into his chest, nuzzling yourself against his warm figure tightly. He situates the thick blankets over the two of you, getting you all tucked in. Your nose tucks into his neck, and you hum at the way your bodies fit together so perfectly.

"Hmmm. This is better." You sigh as Arthur wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer into his toasty warm chest. His breathing, combined with the darkness soothes you, and though it would be easy to slip into sleep, you fight to stay awake and savor the moment. Arthur's fingers rub up and down your back, and yours grip onto his union suit, pulling him closer to you still.

"How was your day? You were gone a long time, I missed you." You remark, thinking back to Arthur leaving early in the morning.

“It was busy. Helped those two lovesick fools pass notes back n’ forth most of the day. Star-crossed lovers I guess, ones’ a Gray and the other a Braithwaite.” Arthur explains, running his hand up and down your back. You chuckle lightly against his skin.

“Lovesick fools? Are they as bad as us?” You ask, pressing a soft kiss to his chest in front of you.

“Not nearly.” Arthur smiles, leaning down to catch your lips. You lean up to him, meeting in a sleepy kiss. His lips are warm and familiar, a nice greeting after a long day. It’s over far too soon as you pull away for breath, nuzzling back into his chest to cuddle.

“A Gray and a Braithwaite? What a scandal.” You joke, knowing that it must be the talk of the town. Arthur snakes his hand between you two, gripping your hand with the one not tucked under your head.

“A scandal indeed. I felt like a goddamn paper boy, goin’ back and forth, but they paid me good.” Arthur adds, voice growing quieter. You can hear the chirping of frogs outside, and the gentle lapping of the river as he continues.

“What about you? What did you get up to?” He asks as you let go of his hand, sticking yours through the opening of his union suit, warming them against his radiating chest.

“The usual. Laundry, cooked dinner for Pearson, yelled at Micah which was fun.” You whisper, yawning, and Arthur presses a kiss to your hair.

“He buggin’ you again?” Arthur asks, pulling you closer to him as you toss a leg over his own, getting comfortable.

“A little.” You admit. Arthur nods, a wrinkle of concern between his eyebrows.

“He does it again, let me know.”

You nod, sighing and pulling your hands from Arthur’s suit. You wrap them around his neck instead, and pull him down closer to you. It’s almost like you can’t get comfortable, with the way you keep readjusting against him.

“What’s with you?” Arthur chuckles as you press against him as tightly as possible.

“I missed you.” You whisper, and a beautiful smile lines his lips as his hand cups your cheek.

You lean up to kiss him, lips locking together slow and sweet. There’s so much passion behind your actions, so much love. You give him access to your mouth, and his tongue gently prods inside. He pulls back for a breath, and then he’s coming back to you, tilting his head as he catches your lips again. You smile against his mouth, lips slotting together until you pull away.

“That you did.” Arthur chuckles, pressing one last, soft kiss to your lips, “I missed you too.”

You run your hands through his beard, looking up at him. Just enough moonlight trickles in to highlight his ocean-colored eyes. You look at the depth of them, then the little scar on his chin, and the bend of his nose.

“You’re beautiful.” You exhale, looking over his perfect features, wondering how you got so lucky. Arthur scoffs as if humored, leaning his head back for a second.

“What–” He starts, but you stop him.

“Stop it. You are. Look at you. You’re strong and tall and you have the most strikingly beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Your nose, and your scars, your beard and your lips– I love everything about you…” You admit, truthfully. Your heart swells with love, so much that it could burst as you look up at him. His arms grow tight around you, and he pulls you back flush against his chest, resting his chin atop your head.

“I don’t deserve you, y’know that? You’re far too good for me.” Arthur chuckles, covering up the deep emotions that he feels with laughter. You shush him, not having any of it.

“Stop bein’ mean to yourself. Put that mouth to better use, and kiss me again.” You ask of him, and with a chuckle he does. His lips meet yours in strewed, slow kisses, but you can barely keep your eyes open as your lips begin to fall slack against his own.

“Sweetheart?” He asks with a small smile, pulling away from your lips.

“Hmm?”

“Get some sleep, alright?” He asks, hand on the back of your head as he pulls you against his chest.

“Okay Arthur,” You mumble, eyes already closed, “Sweet dreams.” You tell him, and he smiles bright at the way sleep seems to have clouded your mind.

“Sweet dreams, darlin.” He replies, holding you close.

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