#and that's a fookin wrap dear god i need to do other things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevebabey · 1 year

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part one, part two, part three. this a part four. this is so accidentally long but hickies as promised, w a brief return out touch starved steve <3 mwah!

Eddie is sure his kiss tastes of uncertainty.

He can’t help the way his lips betray his nervousness in their obvious restraint. He knows he had been far more enthusiastic last night, eagerness behind every kiss. This kiss is… softer. Shyer.

He can’t help it. Because even though Steve said yes, had maybe flattened Eddie’s heart by adding a please, Eddie’s still… unsure. Still worried. Still waiting for a punch to come because that’s what happens to boys who kiss boys.

But… Steve’s hands are still holding onto Eddie’s wrists, keeping them in their place where they cup Steve’s face so gently. When Eddie had leaned in, lips grazing Steve’s, he had felt the other’s tightening grip like a silent prayer, saying come close, stay close. Even now, the grip around Eddie’s wrists holds firm.

Though it’s the last thing he wants, Eddie breaks the kiss. He draws back, savouring the moment — the sweetness of Steve’s lips for what might be the final time — with his eyes shut tight. Did I do it right this time? He thinks, he hopes. Can I kiss you and keep you?

“I’m…” Steve starts, his voice a whisper. Eddie’s eyes open. His fingers flex along Steve’s jaw instinctively. “Really confused.” Steve admits quietly.

His face is reserved. Only slight ripples of anxiety peek through. The crinkle between his brows speaks of his abundance of confusion. Eddie’s eyes drink in every expression and he can’t stop help how his eyes catch back on Steve’s lips. He stares when Steve speaks.

“I thought you— I thought you didn’t want…”

“Didn’t want this?” Eddie echoes, with a tone of incredulity, eyes darting back up to look Steve in the eye. He punctuates the last word with another touch, the pad of his thumb touching Steve’s bottom lip bravely.

Steve shivers. His eyes flutter for a moment, in a way Eddie has come to know means his strange aversion to touch is flaring up but — but Steve’s hands keep Eddie from moving away when he tries. Steve nods slowly.

Eddie swallows — tries to push down the ache to kiss him again. They’re still twisted; Steve still doesn’t get it.

Neither does Eddie though. He can’t even imagine what Steve came over to apologise for. What mental gymnastics he had put himself through to somehow be the one who needs to apologise in this situation.

“Where the fuck,” Eddie breathes softly, with an appalled chuckle, letting Steve know he wasn’t mad. Wasn’t in the slightest bit annoyed, only confused. “Did you get that idea?”

Beneath his hands, Eddie can feel Steve’s cheeks grow hotter. The colour soon follows, a glorious crimson that fills the apples of his cheeks. And sure, fine, okay, sue Eddie if he enjoys the sight a little too much. Steve all flushed in the face, ears definitely warmer than they were a second ago.

Steve starts to stammer. “You— You sounded annoyed when I was leaving.” His brows are nearly touching in the middle, drawn together in concern. “I thought you were regretting—“

Eddie interrupts to clarify, suddenly aware of where they’d gotten so muddled. “I sounded annoyed because you were leaving, Steve. Not…”

Not because you asked for a kiss. Eddie’s throat dries up. He can’t say it aloud, not just yet. The words dance on the tip of his tongue. Eddie doesn’t trust himself not to fumble them.

Even though, Steve’s sudden departure had been due to a genuine misunderstanding, Eddie can’t— he’s not… He’s got to be realistic with himself, just in case. Not say too much too soon.

Steve reads into the silent lull in Eddie’s words and in an instant, his eyes are widening in understanding. Somehow, his cheeks glow even warmer.

“Oh,” Steve says, the word doused in relief, in understanding. “Oh my god—“

The rest of his sentence is lost as a car drives by, tires groaning loudly along the tar road. It serves as a quick reminder of where they are. In public, in such close proximity. Eddie steps back instantly, hands ripping away from Steve as a lick of panic runs up his spine. His eyes track the pale blue car down the road.

They were covered by the van but, still.

“C’mon,” Steve says softly, calling to catch his attention.

The panic wavers wildly for a moment before eventually relenting, Eddie dropping his shoulders as he turns back to Steve. He’s delighted to find Steve is no less red in the face.

Steve clears his throat, “We can call a tow back at yours.”

He gestures to his car, an invitation, with a smile. Eddie’s not even sure he’s meant to say something so reassuring; a mixture of the use of we and the implication Steve would come back home with him. Would come inside.

Eddie can’t help how he ogles at Steve. He’s doing another once-over to make sure Steve isn’t a mirage about to fade. Maybe Eddie had actually crashed his van when the engine spluttered on him and all this was a weird and extremely vivid coma dream.

Except, Steve doesn’t look perfect — not like a dream would.

Eddie can tell from the flatness of his hair, he likely didn’t sleep well. He’s got a tired but kind smile on. It’s shyer than Eddie’s ever seen before.

He’s still wearing that bright green Family Video vest for Christ’s sake — if Eddie was in a coma, he had some serious self-reflection to do if his brain picked this as his dream-Steve fit.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a nod and a smile of his own. “Lemme, uh, lemme just grab my stuff.”

Eddie turns to hide his face before Steve can see it grow into a wild frenzied smile, too gleeful to contain. He pops the driver’s side door and scurries around, grabbing all the essentials; cigarettes, lighters, and tapes with actual good music on them.

Steve’s waiting for him, still in the same spot when he slides the door shut. Eddie works the rusted lock to lock it up. No, Eddie thinks gleefully, this is not a dream.

Steve is surprised it’s not more awkward.

Not that he wants that— honestly, this sweet in-between phase where Eddie keeps glancing over at him, brown eyes longing and like he was checking if Steve was still there, as he talked on the phone, suited Steve just fine. More than fine.

And yeah, okay, maybe Steve swooned a bit when Eddie started twirling the cord of the phone, so much like a lovey-dovey teenage girl that Steve nearly laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure if Eddie even realised he was doing it. Just leant up against the wall, stealing glances at Steve — his fingers fiddling with the cord til they began looping it over and over.

Steve wouldn’t though— laugh at Eddie, that is. It feels pretty much impossible to do anything except sit with all his giddiness, just knowing that… his feelings for Eddie are mutual.

That Eddie hadn’t regretted the kisses in the slightest. That Eddie had wanted Steve for just as long.

It’s achingly sweet to look back on that first hug Steve had asked for — knowing they had both been toeing the line, trying desperately to keep their pining to themselves. Idiots, Steve scoffs to himself affectionately, they were both idiots.

Rerunning the memory of his hasty exit last night is less of a breezy memory. Steve doesn’t want to think too hard about what malicious ideas Eddie’s brain might have spun up to taunt himself.

He must’ve thought that Steve had left for entirely worse reasons. That the reason Steve hadn’t been able to look at him because he thought Eddie was… that he regretted… Steve shakes his head. None of those thoughts are pretty.

And, more importantly, they were untrue. Steve very much liked those kisses. His only regret that night was leaving the way he did. Honest, Steve would have more kisses if he could.

Something scorches across his heart delightfully because he can have more kisses — he just has to ask.

“Okay, thank you so much,” Eddie says appreciatively into the receiver. He dashes another look over at Steve, an apology in the form of his sorry grimace. He focuses back on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow to see the damage. Thanks, again.”

He sets the phone back in the cradle and for a moment, Steve can’t see his face. Can’t see any of the nervous contemplation. Eddie finally seems to grasp his courage and spins, fixing Steve with a smile.

“Um,” He says, a nervous chuckle leaking through. Eddie moves closer but he moves all skittish, one of his sneakers catching on nothing. He stumbles just a bit, taking a quick seat on the couch arm beside Steve.

“Wh—“ Eddie starts to say. He huffs another nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “This might be a stupid question but what… now?”

Steve thinks for a moment. He’s considering how to go about this when Eddie blurts out in a hopeful tone— “More kissing?”

There’s an unspoken please. Steve revels in the blush that follows the words.

He smirks up at Eddie, eyes tracing the bloom of pink on his cheeks. “What? On the couch, like I’m some common whore?”

“You seemed to have no problem with it last time, my liege.” Eddie points out dramatically, all with a grin.

“And I have no intention of repeating last time.” Steve counters. Then frowns.

“Well, except for the good part.” He corrects himself. “The first part! Just- Christ, can we go to your room instead, please?”

Eddie’s on his feet in an instant. He brings his hand up to his forehead and gives a salute with enough force to rip his arm off. Then marches down the hall and disappears into his room without waiting for Steve.

Steve thinks the nerves might be getting to him.

He walks the steps he’s walked a hundred times before, crossing into Eddie’s room and pressing the door shut behind him.

Eddie’s sat on the bed, criss-cross apple sauce style. He’s kicked his sneakers off — one’s by Steve’s foot, the other on the other side of the room.

Steve swallows and toes off his own shoes. He approaches the bed, climbing on gingerly and folding his limbs to match Eddie. That familiar swoop of nerves sits oh-so present in the pit of his stomach. Steve tries to think of it as a good thing — it’s good to have something so good that he’s nervous in his excitement.

For a moment, they just sit. Staring at one another. One of Eddie’s fingers is digging into the rips of his jeans, toying with the loose strands. It gives away his restless energy.

Steve waits. He asked last time and he knows — he knows Eddie wants to kiss him. But a small part of him…

“Why is this so hard?” Eddie blurts out all of a sudden. Like before, the words seem like they’ve come out without Eddie realising, but he barrels on. “Shit, I’m so fucking nervous. You make me so nervous, Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes won’t settle. They dart around. Move from Steve’s eyes to his lips, down, to the bed sheet beneath them. Like he still isn’t sure if he’s truly allowed to look. His admission makes Steve sorta wanna roll over and scream into the pillow. In a good way.

“I’m— Me too," Steve admits, a smile curling at his lips. “The- fuck, the way I feel about you honestly scares me shitless.”

Eddie seems to be both chuffed and relieved at his words.

“But I… want to kiss you,” Steve says assuredly. The next sentence he poses as a question, words a little more hesitant. More nervous. “And… and you want to kiss me?”

Across the bed, Eddie grabs a piece of his hair, twisting it nervously as he pulls it to cover his face. His usual nervous tell. Steve can’t help how he breaks into a grin when Eddie nods fervently.

“Cool.” Steve breathes. Then mentally smacks himself for saying cool. He tries to recover but Eddie beats him to it, with a question of his own. “Can I kiss you now?”

Steve answers by shuffling closer, til their knees are touching and then — like beside the road earlier — mimics the touch Eddie had given him.

Hands on either side of Eddie’s face, gentle as they curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the curls of his hair tickling at his fingertips. Another inch forward and he’d be burying his hands in Eddie’s hair. Steve bookmarks that urge for later.

Eddie looks nervous. Steve is undoubtedly making it worse, taking his time like this. But he can’t help it.

He wants to look — wants to stare, wants to devour every detail of Eddie’s face. Commit it to memory so he can picture it with his eyelids closed. What Eddie Munson looks like while waiting for a kiss.

The amount of affection that swells in Steve’s chest hits like a sucker-punch, enough he sucks in a tiny breath. He can see the smallest quiver in Eddie’s lip.

“You gonna stare all day, Harrington?” Eddie teases, but it lacks conviction when the words wobble a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Steve remarks, and then, finally, he kisses Eddie.

It’s the floodgate. It’s a frenzy, kiss after kiss after kiss, the softness of them slipping away in lieu of making up for missed time. Steve kisses every apology onto Eddie’s lips and he receives forgiveness a dozen times back. It’s bliss.

Eddie’s a very enthusiastic partner, to say the least. He’s a little messier with his kisses, hands gripping the front of Steve’s shirt tightly, pressing forward in a way that pushes Steve back— but Steve certainly doesn’t mind. He removes his hands from Eddie’s face to lower himself back, elbows against the comforter as Eddie follows eagerly.

For a moment, a sprout of doubt pulls them apart. Eddie hovers, not getting too close. “This is… this is okay?”

Steve grabs him by the collar and tugs him down, meeting him in the middle for another kiss. It’s a fat unanimous yes. Something glows hot in his chest when Eddie smiles into the kiss. Grins even. In fact, he has to take a moment to cheese it out, his face tucked into hiding against the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve doesn’t mind. His hand strokes idly over Eddie’s hair, twisting in with the curls. He lets him take his time, lets Eddie work back up the nerve to kiss him again, except— with a gasp, Steve squirms at the sudden kiss on his neck, hot and soft.

“I think you were the one overdue for a hickie,” Steve breathes, hands threading through Eddie’s hair gently. He doesn’t pull him away though; lets Eddie figure out the best way to scrape his teeth against Steve’s skin as best he likes.

“Uh huh,” Eddie murmurs, barely heard. He’s too distracted.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, but it comes out far too close to a sigh. He tries again, this time with a proper tug to pull Eddie back from him.

It’s a bit of leftover King Steve the way he manoeuvres the both of them, rolling deftly so it’s Eddie upon his back and Steve hovering above him. Eddie manages to look both impressed and disgruntled at once.

Steve doesn’t let him get a word out. The pale stretch of skin down Eddie’s neck has been calling his name for too long and Steve is hungry for it. He grants Eddie one, two, three more kisses on his lips before he’s moving down.

He’s just getting started, lips pressed to hot skin when it happens. Eddie’s hands move up, skirting barely up and under Steve’s shirt, fingers searching. The unpleasant aversion prickles under Steve’s skin.

He locks up. He’s unable to do anything but; it feels helpless even as he tries to shake it off but he knows, he knows Eddie can feel it as he grows rigid under the touch.

It’s worse when Eddie tries to reel his touch back in. Steve wants to cry with frustration because it’s not Eddie— it’s fucking him.

“Don’t,” Steve pleads, his hand diving down to catch Eddie’s wrist and holding it there. He knows Eddie’s watching him closely, even as Steve’s eyes scrunch shut and he fights to fend off the uncomfortable feeling attempting to make home under his skin.

“It’s…” Steve wills himself to look Eddie in the eye, hoping the sincerity bleeds through his words. “It’s not you, Eds. Just— fuck, just… give me a second, okay?”

He releases Eddie’s wrist. Eddie nods, a minuscule motion. His brown eyes are watching Steve closely, darting all over his face wildly and after a moment, they still on his lips. Eddie makes a decision and pushes forward, planting a tender kiss on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“S’okay,” He assures. Then gives Steve another kiss, this time on the lips, slow and sweet. Steve drinks it in, tries to savour the feeling of being kissed by someone who wants him. Wants him in every way they can have him. It's maddening.

Eddie’s hand moves an inch cautiously, testing the waters as his fingertips trace the skin of Steve’s tummy. He doesn’t flinch when Steve stiffens up again.

Like he can sense the frustration building up in the other boy, he captures Steve’s lips with his gently. Whispers against them again as soothingly as he can. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It’s like the words run across the raised hackles of Steve’s soul, soothing and seeping out the tension from every muscle. Steve can feel himself relax under the words. Feels something inside him wobble and then tip over, finally soothed, finally settled.

This time when Eddie’s hand grazes along his waist, Steve shivers in a good way— and leans in closer, kissing back. His hands clutch back at Eddie’s hair, raking through to grip it sweetly. He tugs, jerking Eddie’s chin up and exposing his throat.

“Can I…” Steve begins. It’s a tease.

“Shut up,” Eddie grinds out, hands fixed on Steve’s waist. Now he knows he can touch, that Steve isn’t tensing up or flinching away, his hands are rabid. Hungry. They crawl across the skin, leaving hot scorch marks behind that tingle delightfully. “This hickie is so overdue.”

Steve grins wolfishly.

Eddie’s neck is a thorough shade of violet by the time he’s done, chest heaving. He looks devilishly handsome when Steve pulls back to admire his work and he barely gets a moment before Eddie’s back on him, lips hot against Steve’s own.

“My go.”

This time when Steve’s getting ready to leave, he half-heartedly pulls on his shoes. It’s a pitiful attempt to slow down the inevitable. He can’t believe leaving is harder this time; maybe it’s more to do with the hickies adoring his own neck and collarbones.

“Hey, I-“ Steve starts, already feeling flush in the face. Eddie’s watching him pack his stuff up, still pink in the face, but so evidently content with himself. He’s laid back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. He’s showing off the dark lovebites on his skin, neck craned proudly.

“Mm?” Eddie hums, a cheeky smile on his face.

“When I— Robin.” Steve says, flashing a hand to his neck. “She’s- she’s probably gonna ask.”

Steve swallows. He somehow gets the feeling Eddie already knows what he’s going to ask — that he’s waiting for him to say it. Eddie’s grin says as much.

“And when she does, I—“ Steve continues, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The kisses on it tingle beneath his own touch. “Can I… call you my boyfriend?”

Eddie glows. It’s the only word for the excited laugh that punches out of him, like a gleeful goblin.

Steve thinks he might just be falling all over again when Eddie rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. He pretends for Eddie’s sake not to hear his muffled shout that’s almost a squeal. His cheeks are ruby red by the time he sticks his face back out, his grin so wide it makes his eyes crinkle in the corner.

“Yes,” Eddie says, voice giddy. “Yes, please.”

And Steve’s so fucking glad he asked for that stupid hug way back when, because got a gremlin-level of affectionate boyfriend now to show for it.

and that's likely a wrap on the can i series for now ! i had an inkling of an idea for future but tbh i wasn't supposed to write this i like have 7 other fics callin my name. but alas! thank u so very much for the love on this, whether sending kisses to my touch starved self or talking bout needing a hug too in the tags <3 hopefully this heals all the right places <3 mwah my loves

tags below:

@original-cypher @maya-custodios-dionach @uwujinniee @attic-cat-blog @immortal-iratze @anaibis @orangeandthefairroadkill @etaka @silversnaffles @invisibleflame812 @eddie-hero-munson @jesskier @princess-eddie @impeachy @estrellami-1 @bloomingconflagration @newtstabber @iwouldsail @sundead @darksmistress @sydstroons @leethegay @superchellerific @eddielives1986 @jinxjinn @breealtair @steddieassheg0es @loopholesinmydreams @savory-babby @alittlegreyfish @izzy2210 @em9515 @killjoy-patrixtump @mrspasser @spectrum-spectre

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merakiaes · 4 years

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Not Your Fault - Arthur Shelby

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: A little bit of angst maybe? I hope this is what you wanted and that you like it despite the fact that I wrote it at 2am😂

Wordcount: 2215

Summary: You get in the way during an attack from Changretta’s men, and Arthur accidentally hurts you.

It had all happened so fast. You had been safely tucked under Arthur’s arm at the Garrison one second, and before you had even been able to react, a group of Italian thugs, no doubt sent by Changretta, had barged in and opened fire, causing everyone, including you, to jump into action.

You had jumped for cover in one direction, and Arthur had jumped off in the opposite direction, both of you shooting your own revolvers at the Italians together with Tommy, John and a few other men while Polly, Finn and the rest of the people dropped to the floor for cover.

The table you had been hiding behind had been blown to pieces by several shots delivered by a shotgun, forcing you to evacuate and run across the room.

You had a clear shot at the man with the shotgun and aimed as you ran past him further into the room, taking the shot without a second thought. But you hadn’t been the only one with that thought.

Arthur had been aiming at the same man and pulled the trigger right as you ran past, his bullet successfully lodging itself into your shoulder, while yours hit the Italian thug right in the forehead.

The force of the shot hitting your shoulder sent you flying to the floor, and on your way down, your head managed to smack into the bar.

But you barely even noticed that, the burning in your shoulder intensifying with the second and radiating down your entire body, having you yell out in pain.

“FUCK!” You yelled out, tears starting to sting your eyes. You let out a loud sound of pain as you struggled to pull yourself into a sitting position against the bar, your hand now having abandoned your gun long ago to press against the gushing wound.

“Oh my God!” You heard Polly yell out from somewhere in the room.

John, having been closest to you, instantly came up to stand in front of you for your protection, and one last gunshot was fired from his gun before the fire ceased, the last Italian now hitting the floor.

“(Y/N)!” Arthur came running in your direction, throwing himself onto the floor where you were crying and writhing in pain.

But still, you touched the wound with the tips of your fingers, hissing loudly at the feeling.

“(Y/N).” Arthur said again, this time coming out as a mere whisper, his entire face pulled into an expression of pure panic as he crouched down next to you, pressing his hand onto yours to keep the bleeding at bay. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to. I-“

“It’s fine, Arthur.” You interrupted him quickly, taking a few quick breaths through your teeth. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

But he wasn’t convinced, tears now spilling from his eyes. “It’s not fookin’ alright! I shot you! I could’ve killed you!” He cried, taking you into his arms and holding you tightly, which only hurt you more.

Realizing his mistake, he instantly loosened his grip on you. He opened his mouth again, without a doubt to keep apologizing, but you quickly cut him off, bringing your hand to his face and pulling it to yours.

“It’s fine, Arthur. You didn’t kill me, alright? It was my fault, anyway. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Your fault? (Y/N), I-“ He began loudly, starting to go off again, but before he could get any further, Tommy and Polly had ran up to you, having to push Arthur away as he wasn’t too much help sitting on the floor, in order to be able to pull you up and sit you down on a chair that John had brought forward.

“Sit her down.” Tommy instructed, starting to take his coat off and pulling up his sleeves. “Finn, get me two spoons from behind the bar. Polly, warm water and a cloth, John, get me a bottle of whiskey.”

Everyone ran around, doing his bidding, while Arthur came over to where you where sitting, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside you, taking your face in his and pressing your foreheads together.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I’m so fookin’ sorry.” He cried. His hands were shaking, even more than yours was, and you were the one who got shot.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, you felt two pieces of cold metal dig into your shoulder, causing you to jolt in your seat and yell out at the top of your lungs.

“Hold her down!” Tommy yelled, pressing the shafts of the spoons further into your flesh, waiting for John to come around behind you and hold his arm around your shoulders before starting to dig around.

“FUCK, IT HURTS!” You yelled as Tommy dug deeper, crying and squeezing on to Arthur’s hands for dear life. “GET IT OUT!”

Hearing your desperate pleas, Arthur exploded, roaring out at his younger brother. “Hurry on with it! Can’t you see she’s in pain?! Get it the fuck out of ‘er!”

“Calm down, Arthur!” John yelled from behind you, and in between your pains of agony, you could feel your head starting to spin more and more.

“No, I won’t fookin’ calm down!”

“It won’t go any faster because you lose your shit!”

“I don’t give a fook! Get that fookin’ thing out of her or I’ll fookin’ cut all of you!”

“There, it’s done! It’s out!” Tommy finally yelled, the piece of metal rolling out of your flesh and into his bloody fingers.

But you had stopped struggling under John’s arm by then, and as they all turned to look at you, they realized you were passed out; out like a light from the mixture of the intense pain and the chaos raging on around you, your head hanging limp against your chest.

Arthur raised a hand to your face, tapping you gently. When he got no response, he tapped you again, his breath getting heavier and heavier by the second with panic.

“She’s not waking up.” He said, tapping your cheek once more. “She’s not fookin’ waking up.”

“She just passed out from the pain, Arthur. She’ll be fine.” Polly assured him, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

He pulled away from her roughly, standing up with a bewildered look in his eyes. “Don’t touch me!” He yelled, jerking back.

Tommy, now having put the bullet away, rushed up to his older brother and took him by the shoulders. “Hey!” He yelled.

Arthur jerked out of his grasp, but Tommy didn’t give up so easily, yelling out again. “Hey! Look at me! Look at me!”

He finally got a secure hold of his face, forcing him to look him in the eyes as he spoke calmly. “She’s going to be fine, alright? It wasn’t your fault. You would never hurt her intentionally and she knows that, alright? Are you listening to me?”

Arthur breathed heavily, trying to avoid looking in his eyes, but Tommy turned his head back time after time, eventually getting him to stay still.

“Are you calm?” He asked, eyebrows raised. “Are you going to stay calm and help me carry her home?”

Arthur took a few deep breaths through his nose, glaring into Tommy’s eyes before squeezing his own shut, nodding after taking a moment. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded again.

Tommy slapped his face lightly before letting him go. “Alright, good. Polly, wrap her up, will you?”

You didn’t know how long you had been out, but when you woke up, the excruciating pain you had passed out to was gone and replaced with a harsh, but bearable, pain pulsating in your shoulder.

You took a deep breath, instantly recognizing the smell of yours and Arthur’s shared home, and slowly opened your eyes, only to find that it was pitch black.

It took a few blinks for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, but once they had, you spotted Arthur’s form sitting at the edge of the bed almost immediately.

You had never seen him so still, and upon further inspection, you realized he was staring at your shirt. Your bloody shirt. The shirt you had been wearing when you got shot. Knowing him like you knew the back of your own hand, you instantly knew what had to be running through his head.

A groan left your lips as you tried to push yourself into a sitting position, your shoulder instantly screaming at you to stop. But you kept pushing, wanting to comfort the man you loved as you knew he would be blaming himself for the rest of eternity for this.

The sound caught Arthur’s attention and he was at your side immediately, gently pushing you down again.

“No.” He spoke gruffly, his voice scratchy as if he had been screaming. And if you knew him right, he probably had. “Stay down.”

You did as told, letting yourself lie back down, but as he went to go back to the edge of the bed, you shook your head, catching the wrist of the hand he was holding your shirt in.

“No.” You repeated his word, pulling at his wrist gently. “Lie down with me.”

You noticed by the way his wrist tensed in your grasp that he was squeezing the shirt tighter.

He was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering down to the blood-splattered fabric, before shifting back up to you. “You need to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep without you.” You argued back, but he was just as quick to respond.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You shook your head, letting your thumb caress soothing circles over the scars on his hands. “You won’t.” You disagreed.

He swallowed at that, a glare settling over his face as he turned his eyes back to the shirt and squeezing it again, the bones in his wrist shifting under your touch as he whispered. “I already did.”

“No.” You disagreed again. “Changretta did. This is his fault, not yours.”

He looked back up at you, shaking his head and answering in a strained, shaky voice. “I fired that gun. I could’ve killed you.”

A glare grew on your face, your eyes hard and stern and showing nothing but determination. “No.” You said shortly, venom and pure hatred lacing your voice. “If I would’ve died, that would have been on those Italian scum, not you.”

You slowly inched your hand down his wrist to his hand and along to the shirt, tugging at it slightly without ever breaking the eye contact. “Let go. Please.” You said in a soft voice, but your eyes remained sharp with determination, showing him you weren’t fooling around.

Swallowing, he did what you asked of him, letting you grab the balled up shirt from his hand and toss it across the room, following along as you then intertwined your fingers with his and pulled him towards the bed.

“Come on.” You coaxed him, pulling him towards you until his knees hit the bed frame, and giving his hand another tug, silently telling him to get into the bed with you.

And luckily, he did what you wanted, carefully coming to lie down on the other side of you, probably knowing that you would get your way in the end, anyway. You always did with him. He could never say no to you, no matter what it was about.

You slowly turned around to lie on your side once he had lied down, careful not to twist your bandaged shoulder in a way that would worsen the pain.

Arthur didn’t move, just laid on his side and stared, so you took matters into your own hands and grabbed a hold of the back of his head, pulling him closer.

Once his head met with your chest, he finally moved by himself, wrapping his arms around your bare waist and pulling you closer.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He apologized, his voice cracking as he kept himself from crying again. “I don’t deserve ya.”

You let your eyes fall shut, beyond exhausted from the day’s unfortunate events, and moved your hand to his hair, combing your fingers through it softly.

“What I deserve is to be happy, and I’m never happier than when I’m with you.” You told him softly, brushing through his hair a couple of more times before moving your hand to his arm and tugging slightly.

“Now, just… come here and hold me.” You demanded, squeezing his bicep. “I’m cold.”

Arthur didn’t hesitate to do your bidding, taking a short moment before bringing his face out of your chest and scooting up further on the bed, taking you into his arms and pulling the blanket up to your head, letting your get comfortable before resting his face in the crook of your neck.

“I love you.” He said, and his voice was so quiet you probably wouldn’t even have heard him if the room hadn’t been entirely silent.

But you did hear him, and pressed yourself even closer to his chest, nuzzling your face into it while he nuzzled his further into your neck.

“I love you, too. I always will. No matter what.” You answered, finishing with a slight frown. “Nothing of this is your fault.”

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