Headcanon: Arthur secretly loves being picked up, held in laps, being spooned and rocked and just the general feeling of being wrapped up safe and warm in someone's arms. The only problem? He's big, hairy, solid, and hot, which is generally not conducive to being the little spoon. How does Dutch, who's not much taller than Arthur, remedy the situation?
Ehehe. Perfect Jake gif.
You know, I hadn’t really thought about it like that. I guess I’m woefully remiss in the soft Vandermorgan kind of thing (I think maybe because I’m not so soft myself)
My first thought was to say “flip him over and fuck the shit out of him.”
Which is probably not soft little spoon.
Thinking on it. When I imagine that they do actually share a bed, they don’t cuddle. There’s no gentle holding. But there is touching. A hand on a thigh, on the back of a neck, a wrist, upper arm.
Possession.
And I think my Arthur feels safe in that. In the curl of Dutch’s fingers on his skin, and the feel of him behind him. Near him. Beside him.
(Sorry this wasn’t the same headcanon, because I do love hearing how you guys see them!)
Imagine a young Arthur and Dutch going on a fishing trip and Arthur talking about how much he loves Mary but also talking about how her family doesn’t like him and she wants him to change and Dutch tries to convince him to take it slow with her and to be cautious but Arthur is young and headstrong and thinks he knows what’s best for him and Dutch does try to explain but in the end just lets him learn the hard way and when Arthur’s heart gets broken and she denies his proposal and he comes to camp all angry and heart broken and Dutch goes to talk to him and Arthur just goes off cursing up a storm and Dutch tries to calm him down and Arthur tries to push Dutch but Dutch grabs one of his arms and just pulls him into a tight hug and doesn’t let him go and Arthur just hard cries into Dutch’s shoulder his arms limp at his side and he just asks “why? Why don’t she love me dutch? I did so much for her? Can’t she see that?” and Dutch just holds him tight as Arthur breaks down and Dutch just holds him close reassuring him that it wasn’t him at all it was her and her family and that he may be an outlaw but he deserves better than her.
“They don’t listen to me no more…”
“I know Dutch…”
“They’re all turnin’ against me, no trust, no one’s stickin’ together.”
“I know Dutch…”
“I do my best and all people do is criticize n’ shout but no one helps me,”
Arthur remained silent, his arms still bound tight around Dutch. He let his thoughts drift with the calm winds before the next storm hit. Dutch could barely let out a squeak when he opened his lips once more.”
“You help me, Arthur.”
“Always, Dutch.”
“…Hosea used to help me, too. But I ain’t never listened.”
Could you do “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”? Thank you! Also i love your writing!
aaaa thank you!! :] here you go!
They’re tangled together, limbs entwined in a knot. The warmth of the thick blanket over them is something Vega has grown to love, especially when it’s from the heat radiating off the Slayer. Inky sits curled up on top of the blanket in a divot, sound asleep.
He’s dozing off when it happens again.
The Slayer shifts, hauling the blankets with him. Inky is scooted towards him, though she is oblivious to it. Vega’s share of the blanket nearly vanishes, the cold air of the room rushing in and making him shiver.
“Slayer,” he mumbles. “If you steal the blankets again, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”
The Slayer ignores him.
A streak of mischief strikes through him. He stretches his legs languidly, feigning sleep.
And then he strikes.
His metallic, cold feet wrap around the Slayer’s exposed legs while his similarly cold hands wrap around the Slayer’s torso.
The Slayer jolts, trying to squirm away from the freezing touch.
sorry this one took a bit!! but here it is, with your requested angst and fluff
He finds the Slayer in an awful state of mind.
His eyes are open, but he’s not seeing anything. Distant. Blank. He’s tense and rigid.
As Vega approaches quietly, his eyes dart to him sharply, arms tensing.
“It is just me,” Vega soothes. He sits down a short distance from the Slayer’s form. “Just me.”
The Slayer watches his every movement. It’s...unsettling. This is not the gaze of a man who hunts hellions for duty. This is the gaze of someone preyed upon, needing to be wary of others.
Vega thinks. “Take in your surroundings,” he offers. “We are in the Fortress. It is just Inky, myself, and you in here. There are no others aboard.” He catches the Slayer slowly looking around and noting the environment, to his pleasure.
“You’re having a flashback,” he murmurs. “What you are seeing and feeling is not real. You are safe.”
Again, the Slayer tenses.
Vega relaxes his form with a sigh. Carefully, he extends a hand along the floor, reaching out to the Slayer. The Slayer flinches at the slight movement and it pains Vega to see such a stoic and strong person feel such primal fear.
Eventually, though, the Slayer reaches out and meets his hand.
“Good,” Vega praises. “Do you want me to move closer?”
Instead of responding, the Slayer scooches across the floor to sit next to him.
“May I touch you?”
The Slayer hesitates before nodding. Vega reaches over, drawing him to lean against his torso. The entire time, the Slayer clings to his hand like a lifeline. Vega squeezes his fingers around the other’s in a reassuring grip.
“You are safe in here. You are not there anymore.” Vega starts. “You are no longer in that situation. You are here, now.” He murmurs the phrases over and over again, until the Slayer begins to relax.
“Do you want me to stop?” Vega suddenly asks awkwardly. He hadn’t even thought before speaking. This entire time, he could have been doing the wrong thing. He could have--
“Alright,” he hums. “You are strong. Brave. You are single-handedly saving multiple verses from invasions. Do you know how much skill and strength that takes? And you have it all,” he praises.
Slowly, the Slayer relaxes further and further, until he’s a pile of putty against Vega’s side.
Distantly, they both hear Inky.
“She’s probably worried about you,” Vega comments. “You know how she is.”
He feels the Slayer’s shoulders rise and fall in a huff of a laugh.
“Do you feel ready to move? I will help you. Just to our room and her.”
The Slayer nods, retreating and mustering the strength to rise to his feet. He stumbles, once, but Vega is quick to wrap an arm around his shoulder to steady him.
The walk back to their shared room is silent, apart from Inky’s callings. As the door opens, Inky darts out, twining with their legs happily. Vega helps the Slayer to the bed, setting him down gently. Inky follows suit, hopping up and practically prancing over to the two of them.
Soon, they’re relaxed. The Slayer dozes off. Inky is already asleep between them. Vega stays awake, knowing it would do the man good to know someone is alert and aware and monitoring the surroundings.
sorry this one took a bit!! but here it is, with your requested angst and fluff
He finds the Slayer in an awful state of mind.
His eyes are open, but he’s not seeing anything. Distant. Blank. He’s tense and rigid.
As Vega approaches quietly, his eyes dart to him sharply, arms tensing.
“It is just me,” Vega soothes. He sits down a short distance from the Slayer’s form. “Just me.”
The Slayer watches his every movement. It’s...unsettling. This is not the gaze of a man who hunts hellions for duty. This is the gaze of someone preyed upon, needing to be wary of others.
Vega thinks. “Take in your surroundings,” he offers. “We are in the Fortress. It is just Inky, myself, and you in here. There are no others aboard.” He catches the Slayer slowly looking around and noting the environment, to his pleasure.
“You’re having a flashback,” he murmurs. “What you are seeing and feeling is not real. You are safe.”
Again, the Slayer tenses.
Vega relaxes his form with a sigh. Carefully, he extends a hand along the floor, reaching out to the Slayer. The Slayer flinches at the slight movement and it pains Vega to see such a stoic and strong person feel such primal fear.
Eventually, though, the Slayer reaches out and meets his hand.
“Good,” Vega praises. “Do you want me to move closer?”
Instead of responding, the Slayer scooches across the floor to sit next to him.
“May I touch you?”
The Slayer hesitates before nodding. Vega reaches over, drawing him to lean against his torso. The entire time, the Slayer clings to his hand like a lifeline. Vega squeezes his fingers around the other’s in a reassuring grip.
“You are safe in here. You are not there anymore.” Vega starts. “You are no longer in that situation. You are here, now.” He murmurs the phrases over and over again, until the Slayer begins to relax.
“Do you want me to stop?” Vega suddenly asks awkwardly. He hadn’t even thought before speaking. This entire time, he could have been doing the wrong thing. He could have--
“Alright,” he hums. “You are strong. Brave. You are single-handedly saving multiple verses from invasions. Do you know how much skill and strength that takes? And you have it all,” he praises.
Slowly, the Slayer relaxes further and further, until he’s a pile of putty against Vega’s side.
Distantly, they both hear Inky.
“She’s probably worried about you,” Vega comments. “You know how she is.”
He feels the Slayer’s shoulders rise and fall in a huff of a laugh.
“Do you feel ready to move? I will help you. Just to our room and her.”
The Slayer nods, retreating and mustering the strength to rise to his feet. He stumbles, once, but Vega is quick to wrap an arm around his shoulder to steady him.
The walk back to their shared room is silent, apart from Inky’s callings. As the door opens, Inky darts out, twining with their legs happily. Vega helps the Slayer to the bed, setting him down gently. Inky follows suit, hopping up and practically prancing over to the two of them.
Soon, they’re relaxed. The Slayer dozes off. Inky is already asleep between them. Vega stays awake, knowing it would do the man good to know someone is alert and aware and monitoring the surroundings.
[i backflip into the room. i slap this on the table.]
He cannot rest.
His sensors are piqued, taking in anything and everything at once.
Emotions, sounds, movement...everything.
He can feel his nerves fraying. He should be able to control this. But controlling the Fortress is far easier than controlling the old UAC base, leaving much space for his mind to wander.
The door opens. His processor forces him to take in every aspect of it: the whoosh, the jolt of movement out of the corner of his vision, the small draft of air created.
But he can’t let his guard down. What if he’s needed? What if something happens while the Slayer rests? He should be watching over the man in their room instead of whittling away his sanity here. The Slayer has legitimate reasons to be wary of his surroundings. What reason does Vega have?
There’s footsteps behind him, he can distantly sense, but he’s so engrossed in fretting that they don’t register. Suddenly, arms wrap around him and he flinches, hard, jerking away from the touch as if scalded by the feeling of skin against his mech.
The Slayer jolts as well at the sudden movement. He retracts his arms, eyes big, an apology already brewing.
“My apologies, I am just…” What’s the word he’s seeking?
The Slayer seems to catch on anyways. Vega looks at him over his shoulder, where the man hesitantly brings his arms back up in question. Vega nods to him, allowing the Slayer to wrap his arms firmly around him this time.
“I am quite strung-out at the moment,” Vega admits.
The Slayer nods against his neck, humming lowly.
Vega sighs as he tries to relax, but he can’t. His mind won’t slow. His nerves are still jumping.
The Slayer’s hands move in front of him. ‘Let’s go to the room.’ He untangles his arms from around the mech, standing back and allowing Vega to move at his own pace.
Vega rises, to which the Slayer quickly wraps a steadying arm around his shoulders. They pad down the hallway, quickly hearing Inky’s impatient sounds from behind the door.
As it opens, she darts out, weaving between their legs. Vega is careful to place his feet around her, which is a task that takes practice. The Slayer links their fingers on one hand and leads him to the bed, sitting down and dragging Vega down with him.
Vega slumps against him when they’re settled. Inky jumps up and rubs against his free arm persistently, likely asking for attention. Tiredly, he leans back against the pillows propped up against the wall.
The Slayer watches calmly as he settles with a sigh.
‘Go ahead and rest,’ he soothes. ‘I’ll be here to protect you.’
Inky crawls over and settles in his lap.
‘And we’ll both be here to watch out for you,’ he winks.
Could you do "you are very endearing when you are half-asleep"? All i can hear is Vega saying that and its so soft💖💖
ask and you shall receive
“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep, you know that?”
The Slayer grunts, pulling him closer.
Vega hums warmly. Nobody would ever believe him if he spoke of the Slayer’s tendencies to cuddle when sleeping. The man is touch-starved, Vega knows, and happily offers himself and his tendencies to reassure and comfort the man.
“You get very warm, too,” he comments, idly stroking the Slayer’s ruffled hair.
The Slayer hums lowly.
“I could say whatever I want right now and you would agree.”
A half-hearted sound.
“I could compliment you and you wouldn’t even blush this time.”
Another hum.
“I think you are very handsome,” Vega ventures.
The Slayer huffs and tucks into Vega’s shoulder further.
“Oh? Some embarrassment?” Vega teases.
No response.
“You may be the great and feared Doom Slayer, but I think you are adorable.”
The Slayer hunches his head down into his shoulders.
“You know what else?” Vega prompts.
A sleepy, questioning noise.
“I love you dearly.”
It seems to take the Slayer a moment to process what Vega had said. When it finally clicks, he groans, hauling Vega into his sleepy grip as much as possible.
Vega can’t help but chuckle.
The Slayer, one rarely to speak out loud, murmurs a raspy ‘love you too’ to him before drifting off.
The new question prompts are so sweet I love it! Can you do “I think I love you.”
[t poses]
It’s late at night--or, at least should be, but the lights of the Fortress offer a faux daytime light at almost all times.
But in the room, they’re turned off. Just the light reflecting in through the window illuminates the room.
Right now, all that exists to him are the other two: one curled up in a neat, perfect little circle as she sleeps; the other lying on his side with his arms around Vega.
Vega does not sleep. He has no need to. But the luxury of laying down at the end of the day and relaxing is one he is unlikely to resist. The chance to settle down and idle as he watches over the Slayer is something he treasures, secretly.
The Slayer is a quiet sleeper. Should he be surprised? Yes, the man is rough and rowdy during waking hours, but he still remains silent. Why would it not carry over to when he slept?
He finds one prominent thought in his mind. One he’s told Inky numerous times, but has yet to admit to the other. Now’s his chance, he supposes. Get it out there while the man’s unconscious and won’t remember it.
He sighs. “I think I love you, Slayer.”
**
The Slayer feels his heart stutter at the words. He knows Vega assumes he’s asleep. He knows Vega means it, too.
Alright, so here's something people here need to stop doing:
Stop saying real, legitimate cis people are trans.
I know it's probably fun to say "uwu *insert actor* is a smol trans gaybie!" or "Daily reminder that *insert actor* is TRANS!!!" since the community is full of weird self-inserters, but this is, well, legitimately fcucking harmful??
Not only are you misgendering someone (since y'all LOVE to throw the word around), you're ignoring the legitimate trans actors and enforcing weird stereotypes.
Not every feminine guy is trans. Not every masculine girl is trans. Saying so enforces the very thing you claim to hate:
Gender roles.
Oh wait, I forgot: Gender roles only apply and are harmful when it's convenient for you!
