cider

REQUESTS OPEN

[the-karma-cafe]

what i write for rn :þ

i be writing reader insert (teehee) but im really open to any kinda request - only been requested a couple times so i aint got no boundaries yet

RDR/RDR2 (my beloved)

Better Call Saul (my beloved)

True Blood (my beloved)

GOT

LOTR

POTC

Labyrinth

Merlin

OUAT

Death Note

Scream 1

[tenderwatches]

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

[stories-by-hails]

For anyone who needs this

[writing-prompt-s]

!!!!

[the-karma-cafe]

My Kingdom for a Dance | Arthur Morgan

a/n: excerpt from a way longer work in progress i was working on many months ago, and haven't had the time to work on more. better to get something out now than nothing out ever, right ? - also will probmaybe post this on ao3 under same user

Arthur hummed, either not believing me or just not caring, and his eyes skipped down my form to the bottle clutched in my hand. His eyes widened a fraction, and he laughed, “You’re not messin’ around, little lady!”

I took another sip, trying to act nonchalant (never before had I fought a cringe so hard). “This is nothin’.” I shrugged.

Something sparkled in his eyes at that. “Oh yeah?” he laughed, and cocked his head over towards the other table. “You wanna put yer money where yer mouth is, sweetheart?” His hands rested heavy on his belt as he looked down at me.

I balked (and attempted to ignore the small flutter my heart made) at that. My eyes dragged over to the other table where Micah was pouring shots with Bill and John. I hadn’t meant for it to sound like a challenge.

Well. I couldn’t very well back down now, could I? Not when he was looking at me like that, calling me that.

I swallowed back my nerves and strolled over to the table like it didn’t matter. He snickered behind me, following.

“Thirsty, sugar pie?” Micah sneered up at me as I plopped down next to John.

“Parched,” I retorted, grabbing one of the shots from his spot across the table. Arthur settled down next to him, across from John, Bill, and I, and grabbed one of his own.

“One… two…” Bill began to count, but Micah threw his back before the other man finished. Irritated at not being followed, Bill scoffed and awkwardly cut himself off, throwing his back as well. John, Arthur, and I followed suit.

Or, well, John and Arthur did. Half the moonshine made it down my throat before I gagged and spit the rest back in the cup. Micah barked a laugh at me. “Bet you’d do better with somethin’ else in yer mouth, huh, girlie?” John laughed along with him.

My cheeks burned, if not for the drink, then especially for that. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I bit back, stuffing down my embarrassment.

“Well,” he curled up his lip, “if the lady is offering…” He leaned back to gesture towards his lap.

I opened my mouth before I knew what I wanted to say, but thankfully was cut off. “You’re a real charmer, ain’tcha?” Arthur drawled. I glanced over at him, seeing that his cheerful expression from earlier had soured.

Micah shrugged and pushed up and away from the table. “Just the merry dance of the sexes,” he raised his hands in mock-defense. Bill pushed up to follow after him. Micah waved at me, his eyes narrowed and his grin wide. I looked back to Arthur.

“Creep.” Arthur muttered, his eyes not leaving the table.

My heart warmed a little. Arthur often defended the other women of camp from Micah’s comments, but I’d never had that kindness extended to me before now. It was sweet, his protectiveness. His gaze shifted across the table to my drink. He cracked a smile, “You gonna finish that?”

I snorted, pulling the cup towards me. “This is probably half-spit, you don’t want it.” I brought it back up to my nose, trying not to cringe at the smell. I held it away from me again. “How the hell d’you guys do this?”

John chuckled beside me. “Just don’t think about it, I guess.”

I nodded and took his advice, trying to throw the alcohol over my tongue to choke it back. I wasn’t sure what the percentage was on moonshine, but I was sure it didn’t matter at this point, my head now well-fuzzed. Arthur’s eyes were trained on me, a small smile on his lips. “You really are all talk.”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile of my own. “Whatever.”

Arthur and John took a couple more shots, getting sloppier by the minute. John was friendly next to me, slinging his arm around my shoulder and talking too loudly in my ear. It was nice, though, hanging out with the two of them. Strange, but nice.

ARTHUR POV

He watched John say something else to her, but he wasn’t sure what, nor did he really care. His gaze was shadowed under his hat, staring across the table at them. John laughed, pulling (Y/N) closer as he rocked to the side. She smiled back at him, her cheeks ruddy. Arthur forced a laugh of his own, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered.

She looked nice.

He didn’t want to think about it, but with her right in front of him like this, it made things hard. He had tried all day not to think about that morning: waking up to the rest of the camp asleep, going to get coffee, getting distracted by the way the pale sun shone down on her hair, the sweet way she had her blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

He had found himself sketching it later, while waiting for Trelawney with Javier and Charles. He remembered closing his journal a little too quickly when he realized Trelawney had walked up and stood behind him to announce himself.

And she had washed his jacket. It was the slightest bit damp, but he kept it on anyway, even after he rode off. She pulled it out from under that blanket, bunched up by her side, and handed it to him. He wondered briefly how it would look on her一if she’d look as sweet in his jacket as she had with her blanket; if she’d grow to prefer it more.

He threw back another drink, seeking to quiet his thoughts. It didn’t matter, anyway.

John scowled at something (Y/N) said, and got up, stumbling off somewhere else. She turned those eyes of hers on Arthur. He fought the urge to look away, holding her gaze. “What’s his problem?” he asked.

“Told him to go see the missus,” she smiled, taking a sip of her beer. He forced himself to look away from the unfair way her lips looked pressed against it.

“Ah,” he hummed in understanding, raising his cup in acknowledgement. “Smart idea, gettin’ him to do it while he’s drunk.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Dutch’s gramophone clicked to life, playing some fun, but calm, instrumental. Arthur glanced over, watching Dutch turn away from the machine and hold his hands out to Miss O’Shea, who happily stepped into his embrace. They swayed together to the music, her high laughter floating over the noise.

“That’s sweet,” (Y/N) whispered from across the table, just loud enough for him to hear. He looked back to her, watching her watch them, a soft expression on her face.

The sun was almost completely hidden behind the mountains now, the last valiant orange fading from the sky. Light from the nearby oil lamps and campfire took its place, most of her face shadowed despite their efforts. It played on the apple of her cheek, the bridge of her nose, the reflection in her eyes. His fingers itched for his journal again.

“D’you wanna dance?”

She blinked in surprise, and looked over at him. That was strange, though, because he hadn’t said anything. He wondered who asked her, although he hoped she would say no to them, and stay with him instead. Her cheeks appeared to flush the slightest bit一or maybe he was just seeing things一and she shyly smiled.

“Sure, Arthur, I’d love to.”

Oh. He asked.

He felt a heat of his own creep up the back of his neck and ears, and hoped it didn’t show. He stood up abruptly from the table, and swayed a bit on his feet. She mirrored his movement, getting up and steadying herself.

He held out his hand, forcing the other behind his back awkwardly. “M’lady,” he joked.

She giggled and placed her hand in his. It was a bit roughened compared to the night before, but still soft. It likely wouldn’t stay this way for long, running with them.

He tugged gently (or he tried to, at least), pulling her closer. She made a small noise of surprise and stumbled over to him, placing her other hand between them before they collided. It rested heavy on his chest, more an indicator of her drunken state than anything else. Warmth spread from her to him, and he wondered if he was giving any back.

Arthur brought up his hand to rest clumsily at her hip, unsure where exactly to place it. Why had he asked her to do this, again? He was clearly just going to embarrass himself.

Wherever he had settled it, though, she seemed content with, and she smoothed her hand up from his chest to rest on his shoulder. The line of contact seared like fire over him, and he made some noise in his throat. He hoped she hadn’t heard.

With their other hands clasped together, they swayed gracelessly, but he didn’t mind, and she didn’t seem to neither, a broad smile stretching her face. Her rings felt cool pressed against the heat of his palm. She kept laughing every now and then, stepping on his toes or knocking their knees together. He couldn’t find it in him to care.

He attempted a twirl at some point, but halfway through she fell backwards, losing her balance. He reached out and caught her, selfishly letting her head and back fall against his chest. “Y’alrigh’?” he slurred.

She tilted her head back, her face upside down, looking up at him with a sly grin. The campfire light caught her chest and jaw. “Better now in these big arms o’ yours, cowboy.” She winked, a stupid grin on her face.

He almost dropped her out of surprise. He stiffened, forcing out an awkward laugh that he hoped sounded casual.

This was ridiculous, he wasn’t some blushing schoolgirl. She was just teasing. He willed his taut muscles to relax.

“‘S that right?” he brought his arms around her to cage her in, linking his hands together by the front of her hips一two can play at this game, Miss (L/N). He leaned his head down by her face. “How ‘bout now?” he cooed.

The grin dropped from her face, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, an embarrassed flush painting her cheeks. Damn, he hadn’t meant to come off like Micah.

His grip loosened, nervous now. (Y/N) wasn’t nearly as close with him as the other girls were, and he inwardly cursed himself for getting familiar with her like this. If only Mary-Beth or someone else had been nearby when he’d asked to dance一he could’ve pretended like he’d been asking them. Shit, he would’ve danced with John if he had to.

“I’m probably about perfect, now,” she recovered, her laugh ringing up towards him like a bell. She moved her head back to face forward, snuggling back against his chest.

He exhaled, a stupid grin overtaking his face. He began to rock them side-to-side, listening to the campfire song that had sprung up between Bill and Karen, the latter perched on a certain Irishman’s lap. Arthur hummed along under his breath, resting his chin on her head. Her hair was soft, still, just like the first time. This was nice. She was nice.

He wasn’t sure when his eyes had drifted closed, but (Y/N) made no attempt to leave his bear hug, and he found himself thankful for it. He felt his throat still rumbling with song, but wasn’t sure if he was humming anymore or actually singing.

“You don’t mind if I take over from here, do you, Arthur?” an amused voice whispered beside him. He cracked his eyes open, dragging his chin across her head to look at Hosea. The man was staring at him with a sort of fond pity, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t a child. (Y/N) moved out from his embrace and he stepped back, keeping his hands up to steady her if he needed to.

She swayed, but Hosea caught her arm, throwing it over his shoulder and stepping in front of her. “Oh, hello, Hosea,” she greeted politely, but glanced around in confusion. Hosea jutted his chin over to where Arthur stood behind her, and she craned her neck to look at him.

He felt awkward and big and out-of-place, now, all by himself. He flexed his hands by his side and gave her a tight smile.

“Thank you for dancing with me, Arthur,” she said sweetly, her gaze fixed on him. The red bloom of drink had held steadfastly to her cheeks, her eyes glinting in the light of the oil lamps.

He felt himself nod and grunt some sort of response before he turned on his heel and trudged off towards his tent. That was enough drinking for him.

~Journal updated.

On one side, a detailed sketch of a plant, the words “Indian Tobacco” scrawled next to it. On the other side, a sketch of (Y/N) in the morning, her blanket tightly wrapped around her shoulders. There are the beginnings of a focus on her hair, with a random sharp line dragged to the side, as if the artist was startled.

[pipdepop]

RDR2 Timeline

To help with writing my fics, especially the pre-game ones, I made this timeline for myself using dialogue/notes from the game, the official game guide by Piggyback, and the wiki (which is generally very good at linking back to its sources). And I figure other people might find it useful as well! For simplicity’s sake, when birth dates are ~approximate~, I just assume that it’s the correct year for latter age calculations. So:

~1844 – Hosea born

~1846 – Strauss born

<1849 – Uncle born

1855 – Dutch born

~1860 – Micah born

1863 – Arthur born. It’s implied that Dutch’s father died in the Battle of Gettysburg (July 1-3). Strauss arrives in America.

1866 – Bill born.

1870 – Dutch leaves home.

1873 – John born

~1875 – Dutch (20) and Hosea (31) meet (Dutch’s alliance with Colm possibly pre-dates this)

1877 – Dutch and Hosea run the Kettering con. Arthur (14) meets Dutch (22) and Hosea (33). Susan presumably joins them not long after. Abigail is born. Micah (17) is on the run with his father for a brutal double homicide. 

~1878 Hosea and Bessie try to leave the outlaw life (possibly the year before as Arthur was ‘too young to remember’?)

~1880 – Lenny born

1881 – John’s father dies, John is sent to an orphanage. Dutch’s mother, Greta Van der Linde, dies (but Dutch doesn’t know this until years later.)

1884 – John kills someone for the first time.

1885 – John (12) is rescued by Dutch (30), Hosea (41) and Arthur (22).

1886 – Sadie and Jake get married.

1887 – First bank robbery. John is 14, Arthur is 24, Hosea is 43, Dutch is 32.

1892 – Bill is dishonourably discharged from the army.

1893 – Bill tries to rob Dutch, joins the gang

1894 – Abigail (17) joins the gang, gets pregnant.

1895 – Jack is born. Javier joins the gang. Lenny’s father is killed ~this year. Karen helps Arthur and Javier rob a bank between this year and 1897.

1896 – Jack is 1, John leaves.

1897 – John returns.

1898 – The gang are in Montana, Copper eats all the salmon. Copper passes away. Jenny joins the gang. Micah saves Dutch’s life in a bar, joins the gang. Charles joins the gang. Lenny joins the gang late in the year.

1899 – Main game. Opening cutscene takes place in May. Arthur (36), John (26), Dutch (44), Hosea (55), Abigail (22), Jack (4), Lenny (19), Karen (mid-twenties) (can’t think of any other mentioned character ages??)

1907 – Epilogue. John (34), Abigail (30), Jack (12). Arthur would have been 44.

If anyone’s got any other stated events, let me know and I’ll add em in!

[lazypapers]

What a great guide! Everything that I wanna tackle in the Golden Hour happens between 1881~RDR2

[angiechia]

this is the type of shit modern arthur morgan would post on his facebook on a sunday at 9 am

[the-karma-cafe]

Good Girl | Arthur Morgan

“You look sweet all messy like this,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over you. His hand trailed up to bump against your hip, thumb smoothing over the fabric there.

“Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “You’re welcome, darlin’,” he purred, his palm gently pushing around you, pressing you closer. His other tucked under your chin, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement. “Got the prettiest little mouth…” he whispered, his voice smooth.

Heat crept up your cheeks. “Thank you.” You repeated, softer this time, your lips parted. His thumb grazed against your top lip, and you watched his face contort the slightest bit, as if in agony just watching. 

He pressed, slipping the digit past your lips, lightly tracing it over your tongue. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You gently closed your lips around his thumb, softly sucking at it.

He drew in a shaky breath. “Jesus,” he tilted his head, meeting your eyes. You swirled your tongue against the pad experimentally, and he let out a desperate kind of sigh. “Such a good girl for me, ain’t you, baby?”

[the-karma-cafe]

Handsy | Javier Escuella

Javier's hand smoothed up your thigh, prompting the smallest noise of surprise from your throat. You glanced back at him conspiratorially, whispering, "And where is that hand goin', mister?" He smirked, leaning in closer to you, his gaze drifting up to meet yours. His voice came out low, hushed. “Wherever you want it to go, cariño.”

[the-karma-cafe]

Medium honor Arthur picks up character but it’s for a crime she didn’t do! Oh and outdoorsy love stuff

a/n: omg ok i dont know what you mean by outdoorsy love stuff is that SEX or is that FLUFF (im giving you both) thank you for the request !!

warnings: DID NOT PROOFREAD, sex (hell no !!!), spanking, he's a little mean but not really (as medium honor usually goes), mildly dubious consent

Warm | Arthur Morgan

It was the age-old story of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I discovered Mrs. Braithwaite on the floor一thick, wine-red blood pooled beneath her chest一I’d barely had a second to react before one of her sons screamed, tackling me to the ground. His fingers were bruising against my arms, shaking me, asking what the fuck was the matter with me, telling me I’d fucking swing for this. 

I don’t even remember how I got away from him, slamming something into his skull and breaking free from that iron grip, leaping off the balcony without a second thought.

It was only miles away on one of their prized horses did it finally hit me that whatever case I’d had to defend myself with was long gone. I wouldn’t be able to show my face in Rhodes again一or really anywhere else一with a high-profile family like the Braithwaites on my ass.

I kept riding further north, hoping to put as much distance between me and that damn corpse as possible. Of all the people, it had to be her, and it had to be me. 

By the time I reached Valentine, I’d felt more sorry for myself than I had in a long time. Thanked my lucky stars I always kept my money on me and bought some supplies there to… well, live on the lam, I supposed. 

But for the first couple nights, I moped. Stayed in the saloon every morning and the hotel every night一not much else to do in a livestock town. 

When I felt a bit better, I sold the Braithwaite horse. It was big and proud and all sorts of attention-grabbing. I bought a different one一drab and small, but fast. 

Sooner than I thought, the news had travelled. A new bounty poster was slapped right on the wooden post outside the saloon, my sketchy reflection glaring back at me. MURDEROUS MAID. 

I pursed my lips. They could’ve spared me the alliteration.

Tore it down, stuffed it in my bag, and left town. Wouldn’t take long for a small town like Valentine to put two and two together. 

The bounty was nothing to sneeze at. I was almost flattered. Wanted alive, $500. I figured it’d take a lot to deter bounty hunters from $500, so I took to the mountains. It was likely just a matter of time, but by god was I going to make them work for it.

Now, here I was, having found some barn to hole up in, next to the remains of a torched homestead (I’d briefly picked through it and rescued a dented can of peaches and a lock box holding some fancy necklace). Would’ve preferred the house, but shelter was shelter. Peaches (affectionately named after said can) seemed to like it in here, at least.

“You want one, boy?” I held one out to where he sat a foot or so away from me. For only having just met me, he was a sweet horse, resting his head on my lap while I slept, following me around while I hunted (although I quickly found he loved to scare off game, and it took a lot of convincing to get him to just stay put, goddammit).

Peaches leaned his big head forward and sniffed at the proffered fruit. To my surprise, he snorted and turned away from it, flicking back his ears and giving me a severe side-eye. “What!” I laughed, bringing it back away from him. “Now you tell me.”

He huffed out of his nose, like it should have been quite obvious, thank you very much. I giggled and continued to eat, idly watching the flame flicker in one of the lanterns hung from the ceiling. 

I eventually drifted off to sleep, still not any closer to figuring out my future than I was a month ago.

The next morning, I ventured back into the wilderness to hunt. So far, I’d been a bit less successful than I’d hoped, but I had done well enough for myself. 

I breathed out slowly, my arm steadily following the movements of a buck a couple yards away. My breath puffed out white in front of me, warming my nose. This was the closest I’d ever gotten to game this big.

The buck lowered its head, nosing past the snow to the damp grass below. I kept my arrow aimed above, where I knew its head would return. A breath in. C’mon…

It raised its head, staring off to its right somewhere, and I stretched back the string, my grip still a bit wobbly against its force. Another breath out. 

A whisk of air whooshed over me, and I startled, releasing my grip on the arrow. It flew a couple feet away before planting headfirst into the snow. Something forcibly tightened around my torso, crushing my arms against my sides. What the hell?! I yelped in surprise and wobbled from my perch, falling backwards.

My head dented the snow behind me, sending it down my collar and into my hair, freezing my neck and ears. “Ahh!” I struggled against the coil around me, simultaneously flinching away from the cold now assaulting my warm skin.

Footsteps crunched over to me, and an upside-down face and chest soon came into view. He looked down at me with a pleased expression on his face, or at least it seemed like it, it was hard to tell behind that high collar and tipped hat. 

He rounded to my front and his gloved hands yanked at the rope, pulling me slightly up from the snow to face him better. He squinted at my face, now surely pinkened from the snow I could still see on my lashes. His chest rumbled with approval, and he nodded, more to himself than me. “Thought so.”

“What?” I exhaled, staring up at him dumbly. 

He cracked a smile, and this time I could tell. “The murderous maid, I take it?” 

My blood ran cold. Oh, fuck. I had almost forgotten, tucked away in this silent, snowy haven. 

Apparently my expression was all it took to confirm things for him. His smile turned to a smirk and he tugged at the rope, bringing me up to stand. I instinctively pushed away from him, but he held me firmly to him, his arms thick and strong (my god this man was big). He looped the rope around me again before tying it securely at my front. 

Then, he promptly threw me over his shoulder and began to walk. 

“Let me go!!” I thrashed from my perch, kicking at him. 

He growled and tightened his grip on my thighs. “Kick me again and I'll make you regret it, girl.”

A fearful whimper slipped past my lips and I stilled. 

“That’s what I thought,” he grunted, but his grip didn’t loosen. 

He whistled, loud and sharp, and I heard the familiar sound of hooves approaching. The image of Peaches by himself in the barn flitted through my head.

“Um, mister?” I whispered, my tone timid and polite. The tone I used to use with the Braithwaites. 

He heaved a sigh, annoyed with me. “What.”

I bit my lip. I didn’t want to anger him further. “My… my horse. He’s in a barn nearby, I don’t want him to be stuck up here all by himself.”

He didn’t respond to that. I grimaced. If I’d kept the Braithwaite horse at least he would’ve saved it to sell it一Peaches was likely barely worth the walk to a man like him.

His horse slowed to a stop nearby, and the man none-too-gently threw me over its back. I winced, feeling its butt dig into my stomach. 

The bounty hunter made quick work of me, tying my legs together and then securing me to his horse. He patted my thigh, “Comfy?” I could almost hear the smug look on his face.

“More ’n ever.” I grumbled, mostly to myself. He barked a laugh and pulled away from me, leaving me cold. He mounted up on his horse and began to ride.

I couldn’t see much from my “seat,” but I began to vaguely recognize the path he followed.

“Are you…” I started, my voice quiet. I turned my head to look up at him, and raised my voice. “Are you goin’ back for him?”

He didn’t answer, and made no move to indicate he had even heard me. 

Not wanting to push my luck (or Peaches’), I stayed quiet.

Sure enough, we reached that barn and he dismounted. When he returned, Peaches was in tow, neighing happily when he saw me.

I laughed brightly despite the situation. “Hey, boy!!” The bounty hunter released his reins and Peaches bounded up to me, nuzzling and snorting into my hair wetly. I giggled and tried to move my head away. “Oh my god, Peaches, gross.”

“Peaches?” the man echoed, a note of disbelief coloring his tone.

I turned and smiled up at him. “What?”

He shook his head, gesturing to the horse. “Ain’t he a boah?”

“So?” 

He snorted, but didn’t answer me, instead mounting back up on his horse. My smile faded from my face as we continued. My last days of freedom.

I stayed quiet as we rode, figuring that was the best way to get on his good side (I didn’t need to get smacked for yapping). The horse’s gait made me feel sick enough that I didn’t want to, anyway, its back poking into me, alternating between every corner of my stomach with each step.

Eventually, the snow began to taper off down the path, though a chill still hung in the air. I shivered, the back of my jacket still wet and cold against my neck. The sky was beginning to darken, subtly and colorlessly as winter skies often did. 

Wordlessly, the bounty hunter turned us off the path and into the trees, likely seeking some spot to set up camp for the night. Peaches followed dutifully behind us, although he seemed to have sobered a bit, as if sensing my discomfort. 

He must have found a spot he liked, as he dismounted and reached by my side for his tent and bedroll. He pulled them off and got to work setting everything up. 

I felt my eyelids droop, my body finally able to relax with the horse stopped. 

Not ten minutes later, I was jolted awake by hands grabbing me off of the horse and hoisting me up. I made a small noise of surprise in my throat, feeling him drop me back onto his shoulder, carrying me over to his makeshift camp. Truthfully, I had thought he’d just leave me on his horse for the night. 

I wasn’t sure if this was better or worse.

The bounty hunter dropped me to the ground by the fire, and I huffed, adjusting myself to sit upright. The warmth wafting off of it confirmed that this was definitely better than being stuck on that horse all night. I leaned closer to it, and made to bring my hands up, but was cruelly reminded of the ropes keeping them by my sides. I heaved a sigh.

A bottle appeared in my vision. I blinked down at it in confusion, before looking up at the man who held it. “Whiskey?” I prompted.

“If there’s any time to drink, it’d be now.” He nudged the lip of the bottle closer to my mouth.

I held his gaze for a moment longer before turning to it. “…Can’t argue with that.” I pressed my lips against it. He lightly tipped the bottle, letting a good mouthful flow past my lips. I choked it down, then another, then another, then another, before finally wrenching my face from it, coughing. “Jesus!”

He laughed, corking it and tucking it into his satchel. He knelt down behind me and I felt a pressure on the ropes before they snapped away. I brought my arms forward slowly, rubbing my hands over them. He stood and rounded the fire, plopping down on the other side of it. I looked up at him in confusion.

He grinned. “Gave you enough whiskey that even if you try to hop away,” He paused, his grin turning wolfish, “You won’t get far.” He stretched out languidly, finally allowing himself to relax. 

Heat crept up my neck, flustered at his reasoning. “You just get all your bounties drunk?” I spluttered.

He shrugged.

I huffed, holding out my hands towards the fire to warm them. “Creep.”

“I ain’t the one goin’ around killin’ old ladies.” He retorted.

I threw my hands in the air in exasperation. “I didn’t kill her!” 

“Sure sounds like you did.”

I raked my hand through my hair. “Why the hell would I kill the woman payin’ me to live?” I met his gaze again. 

He didn’t seem very sympathetic. Another shrug. “Lots of people wanna kill their boss.”

“Not me!”

He snorted. “I’m shoah.”

I shook my head at the fire, deflating. “I had it made working for her. Easy work, good pay, didn’t really have to talk to anyone, and,” I shrugged my shoulders, “best part of having a lady boss is she won’t let the men get away with being terrible to you.”

He stayed quiet, and I felt myself ramble more, “I mean, sure, she was a miserable old hag, mean ’n sour, but as long as you stayed out of her way and did your job, she was cordial enough.” The image of her on the ground flicked through my mind. “Shit.” I pressed my palms into my eyes, wiling them to cast it from my brain. “Can’t believe this is how it ends.”

The drink began to encroach further into my head, making my thoughts hazy. I cursed again under my breath, the reality of the situation truly, truly, settling in. This was it for me. Swinging from a rope for a crime I didn’t commit. 

“You really didn’t do it.” 

I scoffed, not meeting his eyes. “Been sayin’ that, haven’t I?”

“…That you have.” 

Silence fell between us once more, each left with our thoughts. It felt nice to be believed by at least one person before the end. 

A gust of wind blew by, and I shivered, reminded of the wet coat I was still shrouded in. I glanced over the fire at the bounty hunter, but he didn’t look up, eyes hidden under his hat.

“...Mister?”

He raised his head, and that piercing gaze met mine. I faltered, almost losing my voice to it.  

He heaved a great sigh. “…Arthur.”

“What?”

He sighed, raising his hat momentarily to rake a hand through his hair before placing it back down again. “Call me Arthur.”

I smiled softly in spite of myself. “Okay.”

“…And what did you need?” Arthur prompted, as I had already forgotten. Perhaps he was right about that whiskey.

I rubbed my hands on my arms. “Do you have any… drier clothes I could wear?”

He nodded, pushing up from the ground. I watched him make his way over to his saddlebag, watched him rifle through it for something dry. 

It had to be the whiskey. Or that he was the first to believe me. Or that he was really the first person I’d seen in weeks.

His back was just so… broad. My eyes followed how the muscles underneath his shirt moved, following his arms’ movements. My mind helpfully supplied how one of those big arms felt wrapped around my thighs, how that big hand felt patting my thigh, so close to…

He turned around, and I forcefully muted my thoughts, spreading a polite smile on my face. He made his way back to me, some bunched up garment in hand. I began to shrug off my coat, struggling with it as it snagged on my undershirt and held tight to my shoulders. 

Arthur watched me try to figure it out, but eventually I just gave up, so fatigued from the day that I just didn’t care anymore. He chuckled, kneeling down next to me. “Outsmart you, did it?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I’ll deal with it in a second,” I offered a small smile, “Thank you.” 

“I got it,” he said, and at first I wasn’t sure what he meant. He dropped the coat in his hand and moved in front of me. I watched him wordlessly, suddenly feeling very tired of talking anyway. 

Arthur’s eyes met my own for a moment, searching my face. Whatever he found there, he seemed satisfied with, and he moved his hands to the buttons of my jacket. He started from the top, unbuttoning each at an impossibly slow pace, or at least it felt like it.

He smoothed his hands up to my shoulders, and gently pushed off each sleeve, taking out my arms. I shivered again, my skin now freshly exposed to the cold. I spied the slightest twitch of his lips. He reached around me, his body hovering slightly above mine, his neck an inch from my lips. I felt myself lean forward, my nose brushing up against him. His hands pulled the rest of my coat off from behind me, and he sat back, bunching it into a ball. He then took his dry coat and pulled it over me in its place, rubbing his hands slightly up and down my arms. “There,” he said, and rested back on his heels again. 

I blinked up at him, my lips slightly parted. His face softened, his lips pulling down into a teasing smile. He reached out and cupped my cheek, and I leaned into it almost immediately, not caring enough to be embarrassed by it. So big and warm. “Lookit you…” he cooed, his thumb stroking my skin. “Feelin’ that drink already?”

I hummed noncommittally, too focused on the newfound warmth from his jacket around me and his hand on my cheek. 

Arthur huffed a quiet laugh, “Guess that’s a yes.”

He stood, dropping his hand from my cheek, and my head dropped slightly. I sighed, snuggling into his jacket to make up for it. It wasn’t the same. 

“‘M still cold.” I complained.

“Yer insatiable.” He said, but knelt back down again nonetheless. I raised my head to meet his gaze. He thinned his lips. “Don’t think I’ve ever had such a whiny bounty.”

“Sorry, Arthur.” I mumbled, looking over at his tent longingly. It wasn’t my barn, but it would give at least some protection from this wind, as opposed to sleeping out here. 

Before I could ask about it, air whooshed beneath me, and I yelped in surprise. Arthur had hoisted me up into his arms, and began to carry me to his tent. My eyes widened slightly. “A..Arthur?” I whispered, subconsciously snuggling into his chest. He was so strong, it was like I weighed nothing to him.

“You’ll just whine all night if I don’t let you stay in here.” He explained, ducking past the flaps to drop me down on the bedroll. He was probably right about that. Or maybe this was just another way of making sure I didn’t escape while he slept.

I rolled under the cover, snuggling into it as far as I could. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of him, so much stronger here than on his jacket. My eyelids fluttered closed. 

I felt him sigh and enter the bedroll next to me. It was a tight fit, Arthur pressed against my back to keep any amount of cover atop him. His hand rested on my hip, heavy and possessive. “Warmer?” He whispered, his breath tickling my ear. He was so close.

“Mm-hm,” I hummed, my voice barely coming out. 

I thought that was it, but then…

His voice dropped lower, quieter. “…You sure?” 

A shiver ran through me. What? His hand squeezed my hip lightly, pulling me closer into him. His breath ghosted past my ear, against my neck. Was he…?

I exhaled shakily, some deep part of my whiskey-addled brain telling me that this was my chance. That if there was anything that would convince this man to let me go…

Lightly, I pressed back into him, sighing when I felt his hand smooth to the top of my thigh. “Could use a bit more,” I murmured.

It was all the prompting Arthur needed. Hot lips pressed against my neck, his hand insistent on molding my ass against the hard line in his pants. My breath hitched in surprise, and I felt myself rock back against him before I could think. He cursed under his breath, dragging his hand forward and between my thighs. I attempted to part my legs, allow him better access, but was met with resistance. 

Oh, right. The rope. 

He laughed behind me, smoothing his hand back to grab my ass instead. I squeaked in surprise, feeling him push me onto my stomach. “Don’t think you’re gettin’ out of those anytime soon,” he promised. I flushed at that.

Arthur yanked me back, forcing my ass into the air. I felt his hands palm me, smoothing circles into my pants. “Looks even better like this,” he muttered, and I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or himself. 

Before I could respond, he reached around and unclasped my pants (much faster than my jacket), pulling down at the sides just enough. The rope bound me mid-thigh, so he could only get my pants down so far. A cool breeze blew past the tent, and I felt a bit of it ghost against me. My face reddened, feeling all at once how wet I was. Really? I felt surprised at myself.

I squirmed, rubbing my thighs together. “Arthur, are-“

A slap to my ass silenced me. I squeaked and jolted forward, the heat in my face increasing tenfold. “Dealt with enough of yer whinin’ for one night.” He bit, soothing his hand over where he slapped. 

I exhaled, burying my face deeper into the bedroll, feeling my hips sway against his hand, begging for more. 

His hands smoothed down my ass, reaching down to squeeze my thighs apart, to better see me, see how wet I already was for him. I hoped he couldn’t see. It was bad enough to have him feel- 

“A-Ah…” my breath hitched, feeling his thumb drag down through my folds. 

He hissed, sliding the pad of his thumb against my clit. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re soakin’,” 

I squirmed against his touch, trying not to moan, unsure if I’d be punished again for it. He pushed his thumb back up, pressing it inside of me, and I felt myself try to part my legs again, to feel more of him, deeper, and almost cried in frustration when I couldn’t. 

I heard him chuckle again behind me. “Aww, I’ll take care of you, darlin’, don’ worry,” he said, moving his thumb out to trace back down to my clit, pushing another finger inside of me in its stead. I muffled my moan into the pillow. 

Arthur continued working at me, circling my clit with those deft, rough fingers of his, slowly pushing in and out of me. I pushed back against him, desperately trying to feel more, but every time he just shoved me right back where I was before, keeping up his torturous pace.

All at once, he pulled away, and I whined. Another slap to my ass as a result, and I let out a muffled groan, feeling my eyes roll back. “What’d I say about whinin’?” He admonished.

I wiggled my hips back, hearing him undo his own pants. Please, please, please. He was all I could think about, my legs desperately trying to separate, to take in more, more, more. 

I almost wept when I felt him nudge against me, coating himself in the wetness he’d created. I pushed back, trying to take him in, knowing if I angled it right he wouldn’t even need to help me. His hand kept my ass steady, soothing circles onto it. “So needy…” he mocked, smoothing his hand down to my hips, to my waist, squeezing there. 

Slowly, god, so slowly, he pushed into me, forcing me open around him. I moaned obscenely, unable to keep it back anymore. He didn’t seem to care this time, letting out a low curse of his own under his breath. Almost there, almost there… and he thrust into me, making me gasp at the sudden movement. 

He pulled back and rammed back in, setting a bruising pace. I pushed back into him with each thrust, the ropes cutting into my thighs with how I fought against them, trying to take in as much of him as possible each time. 

His hands gripped the tops of my thighs and part of my ass like a handle, using me like some kind of toy. “God-damn,” his voice came out staccato, matching his movements, “you’re so fuckin’.. tight.. for me…”

I whimpered, arching back, so lost in pleasure that I truly didn’t care what he did to me. He could have whatever he wanted, as far as I was concerned. 

Drool dribbled out of my mouth, wetting his pillow. I felt limp under him, only kept upright by those rough hands of his.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his movements becoming less regular, more frantic. He swore again before pulling out of me, spending onto my ass and back. 

We stayed like that for a moment or two, catching our breath, before he swiped off my back with something and collapsed next to me. 

I flopped onto my side to face him, my legs still bound together. “Thank you, Arthur,” I whispered, “I’m much warmer now.”

Arthur snorted, snaking his arm around me to pull me to his chest. “My pleasure.”

-

The next morning I awoke alone in his tent, hearing him shuffle around outside. I blinked blearily, reaching up to rub the crust from my eyes. I yawned, laying onto my back, stretching my legs apart.

Wait. Stretching my legs apart?

I glanced down to visually confirm the sensation, finding my legs freed from the rope. I also noticed my pants had been pulled back up to cover me.

I sat up, peeking through the tent flaps. He sat at the fire, his back to me. Was he just letting me sleep comfortably before we left?

Despite the threat of death hanging over my head, I felt myself warm at the thought. This was a much sweeter awakening than I had expected.

Before I could think about escaping, or at least putting off our trip to the hangman, Arthur turned, as if sensing I was awake. "Mornin'," he greeted, his voice soft and low. I shrank a little under his gaze, and whispered a greeting back before creeping out from the tent. 

Once outside, I shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around me. Arthur grunted, beckoning to me. "C'mere,"

I obeyed, walking over to where he sat. He spread his legs, patting the ground between them. I blinked down at him blankly. 

He rolled his eyes and snatched at my hand, pulling me to the ground. I made a small noise of surprise, falling to sit between his legs. His arms and knees caged me in, bringing me back into his chest. This was so strange. 

But not unwelcome.

I snuggled back into him anyway, not about to turn my nose up at the last physical affection I'd ever receive. 

We stared into the fire for who knows how long. I almost didn't breathe, trying not to remind him that we had places to be. 

Arthur squeezed me lightly, propping his chin on my shoulder. "Y'can relax," he sighed, his accent thicker now, in the morning. "'M not bringin' y'in." 

What? My breath hitched, my heart beating faster. Was he serious? I turned in his hold slowly, craning my neck to look back at him. I didn't trust myself to speak.

He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. 

"...Thank you," I said dumbly, breaking eye contact. Well, now what? 

Now, I certainly didn't want him to change his mind.

I turned a bit more in his hold to better face him, feeling his arms adjust around me. I smoothed my hands up his shirt and met his eyes again. He watched me carefully, suspiciously, like he was expecting some kind of attack. 

I moved slowly, not wanting to startle him, inching my face closer to his. I watched his eyes drop to my lips, his own parting in anticipation. I hadn't noticed before, but I seemed to have some sway over this bounty hunter, readily accepting whatever touch I offered him. 

I smiled softly at that, and closed the gap between us, gently pressing my lips to his. Warm. 

He melted the slightest amount, his shoulders sagging, his chest leaning closer to me. He was sweeter, now, in the morning. Softer, more patient. I slipped my hands up behind his neck, scratching lightly at the hair poking out from beneath his hat. He sighed into my mouth, his arms squeezing me closer to him. 

I wasn't sure how long we stayed like that, warm and close. When we broke apart, he cleared his throat, looking past me to not meet my eyes. "You..." his voice scratched out and he cleared his throat again, "Y'can stay with me, if you want. 'Till this whole thing blows over."

I had a sneaking suspicion it would be a long time yet. I nuzzled my nose against his jaw. Staying with him was safer than anything I would try on my own. "Thank you, Arthur."

He hummed. 

a/n: on a scale of 1-10 how terrible is it that i posted this from class NOT WROTE IN CLASS posted from

anyway teehee hope you enjoyed and also hope it wasnt obvious that i kinda had no idea where to go with this teehee im just a girl

(also posted on ao3 under same user)

[the-karma-cafe]

Alll My Moneh | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

based on Arthur's silly drunk line "I lost allllll my money... can I ... have *yours* laydey ?" yes arthur my babygirl you can have all of it

also fun hannibal reference cause i llove

“Bye Ernie!” I called over my shoulder. The man behind the bar smiled and waved as I left the saloon, the doors swinging shut behind me. I brushed my hands off on my dress and stepped down the first couple of steps, eager to head home and away from the drunkards of Valentine. The job was fun, sure, but more often than not-

“I lost allll my money...” A sad voice called out to me from the street.

I glanced over, confused. The man in the dirt street stared at me through unfocused eyes, his stance crumpled and wobbly. He seemed to be searching for something to lean on.

“Can…” he hiccuped, “Can I have yours… laadyy?” his southern drawl lengthened the word.

Despite having dealt with drunk men all evening, I smiled, tilting my head to the side. “You alright sweetie?” He looked like a lost puppy, and, unlike the other patrons of the saloon, he wasn’t saying anything untoward.

The man gave a dopey grin upon hearing my voice, stumbling forward. “M’yeah.” 

I paused, glancing around the street. He didn’t seem to have any buddies with him. I stepped towards him, my hands out and ready to catch him if he suddenly pitched forward. “Hope you don’t mind my sayin’, but you don’t look it.” I pursed my lips. “Where’re your friends, baby?” 

He shrugged and almost fell into me before catching himself a foot away. “Camp.” 

I furrowed my brow in worry. I couldn’t in good conscience let this poor drunken fool wander around the street at night—he was sure to get robbed. “You wanna tell me where that is so we can get you home, cowboy?” I gently touched his arm and he leaned towards the feeling, eyes closing and opening at random intervals. He nodded mutely. 

I went to guide him over to my horse before he wobbled out of my light hold and back into the street, shaking his head. “No! Nooo.... No I don’ wanna go to camp.”

I sighed. “You’ve gotta go somewhere, darlin’.” 

He tried to focus his eyes on my form. “Why you..” he shook his head, planting his feet. “Why d’you care?”

I gave him a pitying look. “I don’t know, mister, but just let me help.” I searched around the street, my eyes lighting on the hotel. I looked back at him, hoping my expression was as comforting and gentle as possible. “You want a room in the hotel instead?”

He eyed me for a beat, suspicious, before nodding and humming in acquiescence.

I held out my hand to stabilize him and he grabbed it instead. I blinked down at our intertwined hands. Not exactly what I had intended, but not… unwelcome. He was closer now, and I could see that he wasn’t like the drunkards I was used to. Much more handsome, and so far, much nicer as well. 

Before he could question why we hadn’t started moving, I guided him towards the hotel, fortunately only a couple doors down, and helped him up the steps and inside. 

The receptionist welcomed us in, noting our joined hands. He smiled knowingly. “Not too loud, now.” He joked. I flushed, stammering out an excuse about how that was not what it was like at all, before paying for and receiving a room key. 

The man with me kept his eyes on me the whole way up the stairs, making no move to help me get him up there. I huffed. He wasn’t a small man. 

We reached the top of the stairs and I dragged him into his room, closing the door behind us. “Alright, mister, let’s get you situated.” His weight was fully on my side and I had to remove my hand from his grip (notably difficult) and wrap my arm around him to keep him upright. I grunted, working my way towards the bed.

He turned and I felt a cool rush of air on my head. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you- Are you sniffing me??” 

He coughed, whipping his head away. “D’fficult to avoid.”

I chuckled good-naturedly. “Hope it was everything you dreamed of.”

I pushed him onto the bed and he flopped over, immediately snuggling into it. I straightened up and exhaled, looking down at him. He looked… cute, like this. He was almost like a child, fisting the blankets and tucking his legs up near his torso. I shook my head, breaking that line of thought. This was silly.

Good deed for the day done, I placed the key on his nightstand and turned to leave. 

“Wait!” A warm weight held my wrist. I turned back to find him looking up at me from the edge of the bed with the sweetest pair of puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen. “Please stay.” He mumbled, like he didn’t want to say it, and definitely would not have if he hadn’t been in such a state. 

I tore my eyes away, looking at the ground. I didn’t know this man. It was enough of a risk just to take him up here—it was even more to stay and sleep here. 

His grip loosened, sensing my indecision. “I understand.” he nodded, not looking at me. “‘M scary.” 

My heart warmed. He was so cute. I reached out and cupped his cheek, guiding him to look at me. He leaned into my hand, eyes closed. “You are so sweet.” I cooed, brushing my thumb back and forth. 

He snorted, eyes opening. “‘M not.” His gaze wandered over my face. Heat rose to my cheeks, not expecting his eyes to hold such warmth and reverence in them. He reached out, his hand aiming for my face but falling and holding my arm instead. His palm was warm. “Yer gorgeous.” The heat in my cheeks flared, painting them a bright red. 

I knew I shouldn’t. 

But he was so sweet... despite his burly appearance, he seemed like he couldn’t hurt a fly.

I sighed and moved my hand from his cheek to run through his hair. He hummed happily, his head nodding forward slightly. “You want me to stay?” He looked up, eyes hopeful.

“Yes.” he breathed. His hand dragged down my arm, shifting and stopping at my hip. My breath hitched. “Please?”

I ignored the warmth seeping into my body from my hip, smiling at him kindly. “How could I say no to that face?” My hand at his neck brought his head closer to me. I heard him hiccup. I pecked the top of his head and ruffled his hair, pushing away from him. 

His hand fell from me limply, his eyes never leaving me as I rounded the bed, shedding my bag and shoes. I contemplated taking off my dress. I had undergarments on but… no, I’d be fine sleeping in my dress. I crawled into the other side of the bed, heaving an exhausted sigh at finally being able to lay down. 

It was quiet in the room, for a couple of minutes. I faced the ceiling, but felt his gaze on me. I turned. His face still held that reverent look. I blushed, unable to fight the smile twisting my lips. “You should get some sleep, sweetheart. That headache when you wake up’ll kill.”

He nodded, slumping over onto his side, facing me. I mirrored his posture, facing him. His eyes wandered all over, but never strayed from my face, despite this being one of my lower-cut dresses. My heart fluttered.  “What’s your name?” I whispered.

His face twitched. “Arthur.”

“Like the king?”

Arthur huffed a laugh. “What’s your name?” He asked instead, just as quiet. I told him. He smiled dreamily. “’S pretty. Suits you.” 

“Thank you, Arthur.” His smile grew hearing his name. “Though I can’t say you’re very kingly presently.” I teased.

He didn’t answer, instead reaching out, brushing hair from my face. I faltered, flustered at how gentle he was. Did he even hear me? His gaze dropped to my lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

I blinked in surprise, searching his face. He pulled his hand back, dragging it over his face and groaning. “Ohh, I’m a fool.” He rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his hand. 

I wanted to kiss him. I was surprising myself left and right today.

I reached out and touched his shoulder, pushing myself up onto my elbow. He shifted his hand to look at me with one eye. I forced myself to hold his gaze, feeling silly. “You can, Arthur, if you’d like.” 

Arthur dropped his hand. “Would you like?” I nodded.

He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to scare me off. He turned, moving his hand to cup my cheek. I tilted my head up, feeling my stomach flip nervously. He stopped, lips brushing against mine. 

Slowly, I pressed into them.

He groaned into my mouth, his hand moving towards my neck to bring me closer. I sighed happily, moving my hand to his chest. I wanted to explore further, feeling him up and down, but kept myself in check. Kissing was one thing, but... I didn’t want him to do something he would regret. He moved against me, trying to get impossibly closer.

I internally scolded myself. No further than this. I softly, regretfully, pushed against his chest, parting from him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, looking at me with sad eyes. I shook my head. "You're drunk, Arthur."

He frowned. "So?" His hand slid down from my neck, rubbing against my waist. He tugged a little, experimentally. His hand felt hot on my side, pressing me into the mattress. 

I bit my lip. "'S not right, cowboy, you know that." I poked his chest weakly. "If it was me you found out on the street like that, you wouldn't." 

He avoided my gaze. "Wouldn't I?"

"I don't know." I whispered, smoothing my hand over his chest. "I don't think you would, though." I didn't know why I was so sure. There was something about him.

He grunted, pushing into me and nuzzling his head into my neck. I made a noise of surprise, falling onto my back. "You don' know me." His lips tickled my neck as he spoke. 

I smiled, reaching my hands up to tangle in his hair. No, I did not know him, but I sure wanted to after tonight. He relaxed against my touch, almost crushing me under his weight. I didn't mind. I kissed his head, smoothing my hand down to rub circles on his back. Within minutes he was passed out, snoring softly. 

I debated leaving, but he had wormed his arms around me, snuggled in to my chest so cutely that I couldn't. I sighed, shifting my head on the pillow. The hotel was closer to the saloon than my house, anyway. This just made it easier to clock in come morning. (A flimsy excuse, but enough.)

[the-karma-cafe]

Thursdays | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)

song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)

Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.

How does Javier know?

Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail. 

Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean. 

A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement). 

Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.

“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier’s. 

Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log. 

“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.

“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed. 

He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”

Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”

Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”

Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.

Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”

Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.

“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.” 

He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.

He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…

The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features. 

Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy. 

Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.

“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children. 

Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well. 

He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.

Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in. 

Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.

“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder. 

“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face. 

Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”

Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.

“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed. 

Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight. 

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”

Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”

A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.

“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.

The boys grinned knowingly. 

“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms. 

Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.

Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!

The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.

Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.

And if I ever lose my hands

Lose my plow, lose my land

Oh, if I ever lose my hands

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more

Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.

And if I ever lose my eyes

If my colors all run dry

Yes, if I ever lose my eyes

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more

Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt. 

Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did. 

And if I ever lose my legs

I won't moan, and I won't beg

Oh, if I ever lose my legs

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more

He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that. 

And if I ever lose my mouth

All my teeth, north and south

Yes, if I ever lose my mouth

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more

He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision. 

Did it take long to find me?

I asked the faithful light

Oh, did it take long to find me?

And are you gonna stay the night?

This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.

I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).

Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself. 

“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him. 

Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done. 

He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!  

She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”

He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”

He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.

She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head. 

“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn. 

He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.” 

“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”

“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.

She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”

So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”

Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”

He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.

She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?  

“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips… 

“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed. 

He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight? 

Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”

Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”

She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?” 

Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings. 

What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.  

“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.

“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her. 

“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it. 

“Why not?”

He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.

He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull. 

Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches. 

Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin. 

“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined… 

She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it. 

She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real. 

She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.

Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after. 

He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name. 

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips. 

He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair. 

“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”

He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff. 

She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”

He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear. 

“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.” 

He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?” 

“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb. 

“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same. 

She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.

His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.

She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away. 

He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still. 

Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound. 

She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation. 

“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them. 

She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth. 

He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again. 

He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up. 

He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her. 

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks. 

“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer. 

She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away. 

He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting. 

“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily. 

His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?” 

She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands. 

“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity. 

Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh. 

She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth. 

“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations. 

He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside. 

“Arthur…” she whined. 

“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her. 

She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .” 

He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed. 

Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably. 

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly. 

She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.” 

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek. 

She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in. 

She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t. 

She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?” 

“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip. 

She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him. 

“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her. 

She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled. 

He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly. 

She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her. 

He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-” 

Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met. 

“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning. 

He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust. 

Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer. 

“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him. 

She whined at the pressure, growing limper. 

“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back. 

She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.

“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.

He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers. 

She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”

He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.” 

She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.

He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. 

A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye. 

He blinked. He squinted.

He rubbed his eyes again.

“Holy shit.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Bonus

The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them. 

She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”

He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.

He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her. 

A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”

Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.” 

He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.

[the-karma-cafe]

Oh, Arthur | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which arthur is desperate for an excuse for you to touch him ;(

“Oh, Arthur,” a voice called exasperatedly from the campfire.

Arthur blinked blearily, still in the early stages of waking up. Already?  He grumbled a little under his breath, not expecting to be bothered the second he exited his tent. Usually he had at least a minute to himself; perhaps he had not quite earned that this week. He rubbed an eye and glanced around.

Approaching him from his left, one hand holding a steaming cup of coffee and the other on her hip, was (Y/N). She rolled her eyes, and once she reached him, thrust out the cup towards him, its piping contents jostling about dangerously. He made a noise of surprise and took it from her, immediately balancing it in his grip. He looked down into the cup, its rich scent wafting up to meet his nose. “’S this for me?” he mumbled, voice still roughened from sleep. He coughed, clearing his throat self-consciously. The coffee swayed in the cup. 

"No." came her clipped response, like it was obvious. He scrunched up his nose, his gaze moving from the cup to her face. What crawled up her-?

Her hands were reaching up towards him, and he felt himself hold his breath. They stopped just under his face, grabbing at his collar. "What..." he breathed, his eyes tracking her movement, tucking his chin into his chest to watch. Her fingers tugged at the wrinkled fabric, unfolding it from the poor state it was in, and pulling down at it to straighten it.

She moved closer, huffing something under her breath he couldn't make out. His eyes moved back up to her, catching on that strand of hair that always fell out of her updo. His hand twitched.

"There." And suddenly she was gone, along with the warmth from the cup in his hand. He dumbly looked down at his now-empty hand, feeling ten times slower than everything around him this morning. 

"...Thanks?" 

Her laugh rang out. "You're welcome, Mr. Morgan." He looked back up at her, watching her twist and walk away from him. "Can't have you out robbin' in such a sorry state—stains the Van der Linde name!" she called out from over her shoulder.

"I suppose." he responded, more to himself, and long after she had left.

He spent a beat longer in that spot, feeling rooted to the ground. A cuff on the shoulder broke him from his trance, and he sheepishly stalked off to his horse.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

The next day, it happened again. Then again. Then again. There was always something off about how he looked, and she would tirelessly trot over to fix it. His collar was wrinkled, his suspenders uneven, his hair messed up, his clothes dirty... it wasn’t always first thing in the morning, sometimes it was after he had returned from town or from hunting. He had barely had time to dismount his horse before she was on him, smacking dirt off his front.

“Take a quick roll in the pig sty before you came back?” she prompted, sounding a bit irritated by his state of disarray. She seemed to get more and more annoyed with him the more this went on.

He shrugged, hiding a grin as she rounded his form to brush off his back. “Gotta get low to hunt, sweetheart.” he drawled, turning towards her before she could finish brushing him off.

She scowled. “So why is it Charles always manages to come back looking fine?”

Charles huffed a laugh from the other side of his horse. She sighed, her eyes zeroing in on another spot above his chest. She reached out and brushed it off. “You’re hopeless.”

Apparently deeming him clean enough, she wandered off to speak with Hosea.

“You’ve always been unkempt, Arthur." Charles prompted, rounding Taima. "What’s with her sudden interest?”

Arthur shrugged again, hearing his smile more than feeling it. “Must’ve got sick of me.”

Charles hummed, watching Arthur stare after her.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Oh, he was a fool.

Arthur's reflection stared back at him: collar rumpled, one suspender off his shoulder, hair mussed. He almost scooped up dirt from the ground, but the slightest twinge of shame stopped him before he could. He shook his head, looking away. It was midday, she'd likely be busy with something else and not even notice. He forced himself to leave his tent.

He didn’t make it two steps out before being pushed right back in.

“Arthur have y’lost yer mind??” her hands were on him in an instant, righting his suspender and checking the other for good measure, fixing his collar, running her hands through his hair... he felt giddy, unable to fight the guilty smile on his face. It felt nice, to be doted on like this. The messier he was, the longer she’d have her hands on him.

“What’ve you got to smile about?!” she huffed, turning him around to face the small mirror on his table. He easily let himself be manhandled, glimpsing her contorted expression in the mirror. “It’s there for a reason!”

She moved to leave, but he caught her wrist, lightly tugging her back. He kept his hold soft. Her brow furrowed, but she allowed herself to be stopped, making his heart skip hopefully in his chest.

“I..." he smiled nervously, "I think you missed a spot.” he teased, dragging his other hand through his hair to mess it up again.

Her eyes followed this movement before snapping to his. He widened his smile, attempting to tamp down the anxious energy thrumming beneath its surface. Her gaze softened. She gently removed her wrist from his hold, watching his shoulders sag the slightest amount. It was stupid, he knew. He knew he was making a fool of himself.

“Oh, Arthur,” she sighed, a smile twisting her lips. He felt her hands in his hair, and his eyelids fluttered closed, eager to feel the scrape of her nails against his scalp. “You could’ve just asked.”

[the-karma-cafe]

Forgetting Anything ? | Eric Northman

a/n Haven’t written anything in awhile so I tried a prompt. Don’t love it but it’s getting me started ! wooo

Person A is about to leave for work. Person B asks them if they've forgotten anything, and Person A gives them a kiss. Person B turns red and opens their hand to reveal Person A's keys/wallet/etc., saying 'I meant this, but thanks.'

Eric parted the curtains, peering out over my moonlit lawn. “Fangtasia feels busy tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, “Done playing noble protector? I’m hurt.”

He turned to me, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “If you want me to stay so bad, just say so.”

I shook my head, smiling. “I think I’ll live.”

He eyed me for a beat before turning back to the door. Before he could speed away into the night-

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked coyly.

Eric turned back, an intrigued look in his eyes. His gaze danced over me, trying to figure out what I meant. I inwardly giggled, thrilled to have pulled a fast one o-

His lips were on mine before I could even finish the thought. I sighed into his mouth, smoothing my hands up around his neck. His hands curled around my hips, pulling me closer.

I remembered where I was and pulled away. “I... What was that for?” I breathed, my wide eyes staring up at him, bewildered.

He frowned. “You said I was forgetting something.”

Blush ripped across my cheeks. I brought his wallet out from my pocket sheepishly. “I meant this.”

He blinked in surprise, staring down at it. His hand left my hip and rested on my own, grabbing the wallet. 

“This was in my back pocket.”

I smiled sheepishly.

I didn’t miss his knowing smirk. He hummed happily and tucked the wallet into his front pocket.

there aren’t enough eric northman fics >:( i don’t WANNA write them u fools.... point me to the read.. i want read. READ. no write....

[the-karma-cafe]

Rehab (lol) | Warriors of Hope Comfort (Slight Byakuya/Reader)

A/N: they are,,, just kiddos,,, they deserve,,, better,,,, komaru kin check 

The Warriors of Hope sat in front of us, their faces not… sad, exactly, but a bit diminished. Byakuya adjusted his glasses. “I’ll leave it up to you, Kirigiri, but I don’t think they should be left alive.” Nagisa flinched at this, but kept his gaze level and hardened. I felt a pang of sympathy for these kids. They didn’t know… they’re just kids… they…

I placed a hand on Byakuya’s shoulder. He blinked and looked down at me curiously. My teeth worried my lip, “Hey… Would it be alright if I took care of them?”

He grunted in surprise. “What?” He turned, gently grabbing my elbow as my hand dropped from his shoulder. I smiled slightly at the contact. He realized what he’d done and dropped his hands. “It seems like a waste of time to me. Kirigiri?”

Kyoko pursed her lips, eyeing us for a beat. My teeth worried at my lip harder, drawing blood. “Shit,” I mumbled, licking my lips.

She sighed, checking her watch. “That’s fine. Use the collection of rooms in the east wing.” She looked back up, meeting my eyes. “Be careful.”

I smiled reassuringly. “Thank you.” My eyes turned to Byakuya’s worried ones. He held my gaze for a beat.

He huffed. “Fine, do as you wish. I won’t be surprised if I find you dead, though.” He left the room without a backwards glance. My lips twitched up watching him leave. Worry betrayed his true feelings in his rigid shoulders and clenched fists. Nigh impossible to identify to the untrained eye, but to the Ultimate Observer…

I turned to the children. Only Nagisa made eye contact. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. “What are your intentions, demon?”

I smiled and knelt down to his level. “To spare your lives. Is that pursuit not noble enough for you?”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Ah,” I looked at the ground. “As cliche as it is, I believe you are misunderstood.”

His brows furrowed in agitation. “You believe WRONG, demon. You’d be better off killing us where we stand.” Kotoko flinched and grabbed at Nagisa’s arm. “Don’t say that! She’ll listen to you!”

I nodded. “No, it’s fine. Everyone should speak their mind. Although I assure you I won’t be killing anyone anytime soon.” I pushed myself up from my crouch and held out my hand to the children. “Follow me?”

Kotoko grinned and grabbed my hand easily. “I hope my room is super adorbs!”

I led them to the east wing, Masaru and Kotoko chatting my ears off. They learned things about me but with all their talking, I heard nothing of their backgrounds. I smiled awkwardly. I didn’t think they’d be so forthcoming. Nagisa and Jataro trailed behind me, less than thrilled about the situation.

We ended up at the east wing and I led them into the main room. Masaru ran over to one of the chairs and hopped into it, laughing loudly. Nagisa huffed something about childishness under his breath. Kotoko held steadfast to my hand. Jataro tugged on the hem of my shirt, “Uh, hi! Is there a uh um art room or something? Duh huh.. Sorry I’m so ugly and annoying and-”

I placed a soft hand on his head. “Hey,” I spoke quietly. He looked up curiously. “Don’t say those things about yourself, okay?”

Kotoko rolled her eyes. “But he is those things. It’s the truth.”

I shook my head. “Please don’t say those things, Kotoko. Being mean isn’t adorable.”

She gasped. “You’re right! I’m soooo sorry! Please forgive me!”

“There’s nothing to be forgiven. You made a mistake and have been corrected. Everything’s fine, okay?”

Jataro frowned. “Why don’t you hate me? Hate me, already! Who do.. I have to make a masterpiece? Of all your friends? Maybe that blonde guy, huh?” He smirked evilly. “I bet you’d really hate me if I killed him, huh? Hate me so much you’d wanna claw my skin off!”

I winced. “I… I would appreciate it if you left Byakuya alone. I don’t want to hate you, please don’t try to make me.” I straightened up. “It takes a lot for me to hate someone, anyway. Obviously, or I wouldn’t’ve stood up for you kids.”

Jataro grinned. “What, do you *like* him or something?”

Pink dusted my cheeks and I internally scolded myself. “Of course. As a.. colleague.”

Kotoko squealed. “I know a girl in love when I see one! That’s soooo adorable! You have to tell him immediately!”

My cheeks color deepened. “Please, Kotoko, I love the enthusiasm but I really can’t.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

I pursed my lips. “Well… we’re recovering from the tragedy in Towa City. Duty comes first and foremost. It’d be selfish of me to let feelings get in the way.”

The room was quiet after that, the children not eager to talk about what happened. I cleared my throat. “Right. I figure individual attention is best? But I won’t force anything. If any of you would like to talk to me, you can find me in the other room.” I smiled easily. “I’d love to talk, but I understand if not.” With that, I left the room.

I closed the door behind me and heaved a deep sigh. This was going to be draining. My phone buzzed in my pocket, startling me. I laughed slightly at my reaction before answering. “Hel-?”

“Are you alright?” Byakuya’s cold voice cut through my greeting. My heart warmed. He was worried.

I beamed at no one, heading into the next room. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Don’t let anyone hear you~” I teased. “God forbid Togami have feelings.”

I could hear him scowl through the phone. “I’m merely concerned for a colleague, nothing more.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah.. just a colleague…” I wish I didn’t feel this way. Things would be so much easier for everyone if I could just stuff my feelings down so far that they’d disappear. Byakuya wouldn’t return them anyway. Sure, he cared if I died but he wasn’t about to ask me about my day or anything.

He was quiet for a second. “….Yes. What is your plan of action for the children?”

I leaned against a wall and raked a hand through my hair. “For now I’m just waiting for one of ‘em to approach me. I don’t wanna overwhelm anyone.”

“That sounds.. ineffective.”

I laughed dryly. “Got any better ideas?”

“You wouldn’t like them.”

I grinned fondly. “You know me so well.”

“We are colleagues, after all.”

“Right… colleagues.”

Another pause. “If that’s all, I’ll be hanging up.”

I bit my lip. “Wait.” It was quiet. He was waiting. Was I really going to ask now, of all times? I frowned. Yes, yes I was. “Am I really just a colleague to you?”

It was quiet again and I immediately regretted asking. What was I thinking?? His answer was only going to upset me and put me in a mindset where I wouldn’t be able to take care of the kids properly and would probably-

“No.”

What? “What?” I breathed, echoing my thoughts.

“You heard me.” He huffed. “We’re not just colleagues. The killing game changed that. I…” he trailed off. “You are at least a friend. A trusted one. I cannot say that for many people.”

I smiled. Friend. That was better than colleague. “Thank you, Byakuya. That means a lot to me. I hope you know that you are… very precious to me.” There was a knock on the door. “Oh, I have my first visitor. Talk to you later?”

“Hm.” He hummed and hung up. I stuffed the phone in my pocket.

I opened the door to see an irritated Kotoko. She pointed her little finger in my face angrily. “I heard you!! Just confess already!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do!” She walked in and sat down in one of the chairs. “You were on the phone with blondie, right? Just tell him you love him!”

I shrugged, taking a seat opposite her. “I wish it were that simple. I’m not as brave as you or Masaru. If he didn’t return my feelings it’d definitely ruin our friendship.”

Kotoko pouted. “So!! Some friendships need to be ruined!”

I smiled. “I’m touched that you care, but I’ll need some time to build up my courage.”

She nodded fiercely. “I’ll help you!”

I worked my way through each of the children. I did make progress. My ultimate always came in handy with children.

~

With Kotoko, I needed to treat her like a close friend. Trust her with my secrets, take her advice on relationships, agree to let her dress me up later, and don’t ever use the word “gentle.”

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, right? You can head back to the others now, if you’d like.”

She hopped up from her chair. “That was easy! But I could’ve been acting the whole time. I’m the best at that.”

I covered my chest in mock surprise. “Are you? I never would’ve guessed!”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, I know!” She walked over to me and fidgeted with the hem of her dress for a second. “…Can I get something before I leave?”

I tilted my head, confused. “If I have it, I suppose. What’s wrong?”

She looked at the ground. “Can I have a hug?”

A large smile bloomed on my face. “Of course you can, Kotoko.” I pushed up from my chair and knelt down, arms outstretched. She jumped into my arms easily and I wrapped them around her. You’re safe with me, I promise nothing bad will happen again.

~

With Nagisa, I needed to treat him like an adult. Respect him as an equal, use big words, ask for his input on things, and reassure him that there is no pressure. At one point he demanded that I have higher expectations of him, something I didn’t expect.

I frowned. “Like what?”

He pulled at his hair “Anything! Just, please, expect more of me!” I gently unwrapped his hands from his hair.

“If that’s what you want. Do tell me if it’s ever too much, though, alright? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” I held his hands in my own to keep them away from his hair.

Nagisa searched my eyes desperately. “Promise you’ll expect more of me?”

I nodded. “Of course. You’re very grown up, it’s only natural that expectations of you will rise.” I released his hands and held out my arms. “You’re not obligated to, but some of the others wanted hugs.”

The beginnings of tears formed in his eyes and I pretended not to notice. He stepped into my arms hesitantly. I wrapped him in my arms, holding him close and trying to put as much love into it as possible. I heard a choked sob from my shoulder and smoothed circles on his back.

“D-Don’t tell the others a-about this.” He pushed out.

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

~

With Jataro, I needed to treat him like I wanted him there, which I did. Don’t interrupt him, reassure him that you do not hate him, insist he is not ugly, encourage his artistic passion but discourage killing people. Fascination with gore is fine as long as it doesn’t harm anyone. Introduce him to the concept of horror media.

I pulled up a horror game google search on my phone and held it out to him. “That’s one of the games I was talking about. You’re welcome to scroll through the pictures.”

“This isn’t very true to life…” he frowned.

I winced. “Ah.. not many have seen the things you have, Jataro. Both a gift and a curse, I suppose. Now you can portray things very accurately, but I do hope nothing haunts you later on in life.”

“Duh huh.. I can always go kill again for reference.”

I shook my head. “Please do not. You already have enough references.”

He sneered. “I bet you hate me for saying that, huh?”

“No, I don’t. I doubt I’ll ever hate you, Jataro, and I definitely don’t want to. I’m here for you.”

Jataro fiddled with his sleeves. “Oh… for me?”

I nodded.

“Oh………. Okay.” It seemed to get through to him a bit. “Can I go now?”

“Of course.”

~

With Masaru, I needed to treat him like, well, a kid. Praise him for his enthusiasm, praise him for his excellence in sports, compliment his leadership abilities, don’t let him hurt himself, reassure him that it’s okay to be scared. At one point, something I said had sent him back to that time and he started punching his arms.

“No! Stop shaking. Weak weak scared-“ His already bruised arms started to get worse. I immediately grabbed his hands. He struggled against my hold. “Lemme go!”

I pulled him against me, holding him. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re not weak. Everything is fine. You’re with me now.” I repeated mantras I had with the other children softly.

It took a couple of minutes but Masaru eventually stopped struggling and threw his arms around me. “Girls are stupid cowards.. shut up…”

I smiled. “I might be a coward, but I’m smart. I know some things.”

His hold on me tightened. “Please don’t leave me… I promise I’ll be good, I won’t make you look like the bad guy again……”

“I’m not going anywhere, Masaru. You’re a good boy, okay?”

He nodded.

~

I closed the door to their collective room with a soft click, not missing the knowing wink Kotoko sent my way. I breathed out evenly, filled with a sense of accomplishment. I was right to stand up for them. Hopefully, with much time and effort, these kids would get… a little better. That was all I could really hope to achieve.

“Have fun?” A voice called out, startling me. I jumped, glancing around until I saw Byakuya leaning coolly against a nearby wall. He checked his watch pointedly. “You were with them for quite some time.” His unspoken question hung in the air. Did you make any progress?

I smiled, walking over. “Yes!” I came to a stop in front of him, my grin turning coy. “You didn’t doubt my abilities, did you?”

He raised his eyebrows, gazing down his nose at me. He hummed, turning to leave. I scurried after him, fiddling with my fingers. We walked in silence, the voices of the children fading behind us.

I recalled Kotoko’s encouragement. She’d want me to say something right about now. Not to mention, it’d give me something to bond with her over during my next visit…

I cleared my throat, stopping in the hall. Byakuya continued walking, and I almost thought he wasn’t going to stop for me.

But he did.

He glanced back at me, a confused frown prepared. “What.” He quipped. Sigh, he certainly didn’t make things easy.

I took in a deep breath. “I believe there’s a way for me to get closer to Kotoko…” He stared quietly, not catching on to how on Earth this had anything to do with him. “…And I’d need your… cooperation. Is that alright?”

He pursed his lips disapprovingly. “This was your project, (L/N). I thought I made it clear I want no part of it.”

I chewed my lip, not able to keep eye contact. “Can I ask anyway?”

A dramatic sigh echoed between us, but he remained quiet. I met his eyes again. His arms were folded over his chest and he pinned me with an expectant gaze. Now or never. I squeezed my hands together, searching for the right words. “Do you remember our conversation on the phone earlier?”

He nodded wordlessly, but his expression tensed slightly. Likely not the best sign to keep going, but I was doing this for Kotoko. Yeah.. for her… not me.

“Right, of course you do.” I waved my hand around nervously. “Well, it has to do with that. Kotoko, as you probably know, has a soft spot for um… romance. The main thing she wanted to speak with me about was my uh…” I couldn’t physically take holding his gaze right now, and instead focused my eyes on my hands. I cleared my throat. “Relationship with… you. I… I guess what I’m trying to ask is…”

“Quit the bumbling, (L/N), I have places to be.”

I snapped my head up to study him. His tone was snappy and rude but his posture had the slightest note of… anxiety? I hadn’t seen that on him often. Seeing it built up my confidence.

“Right. Sorry.” My eyes wandered his form more, puzzling out his feelings. “My point is, do you mind if I tell Kotoko about a blossoming relationship between the two of us?” He stiffened further, his jaw tightening and his eyes widening. I was quick to explain. “Obviously I don’t expect you to actually date me, but if you could just not deny it in front of Kotoko, that would be-“

“Do you not want to date me?” He interrupted.

I froze, breaking my absentminded analysis to meet his nervous stare. “Wh…”

Byakuya immediately closed off, looking away from me. “Nevermind.”

My heart beat faster. “Wait, no. Are you…” I didn’t want to reveal my hand but, surely he already knew how I felt? He was practically as observant as me. I mustered an awkward laugh. “Is that a rhetorical question? Obviously we both know how I feel about you.”

He frowned, the tips of his ears turning pink. He opened his mouth only to soundlessly form shapes.

I watched his reaction with bewilderment. Did he really not know?? I took a step closer. “Byakuya, are you serious?”

He blinked down at me. “You… have feelings for me?”

“I thought it was painfully clear!” I gave an exasperated laugh. “Perhaps I give you more credit than you deserve.”

He spluttered before me—spluttered! “Well- I… I I had no idea.” His cheeks began to match his ears in hue. “You’ll… be delighted to hear that I feel the same way.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Holy shit, really?”

He rolled his eyes. “Language.”

I grabbed his hands, yanking him closer to study his face. “You’re serious?”

“How many times do you plan to make me repeat myself?” He looked away from my eyes, his face reddening further.

I smiled giddily, his hands warm in mine. Maybe Kotoko was more observant than I gave her credit for.

~

Warriors of Hope POV

Kotoko watched them through the glass of the door, squealing when she saw them hold hands.

Masaru groaned, looking away. “Grooosss, why’d you tell her to do thaaat.”

She twirled around, clapping her hands together. “Because they’re in LOVE!! And people in LOVE should ALWAYS be TOGETHER!!!!”

Nagisa also grimaced at the sight. “Here I thought she was a professional. How unseemly… in front of us, no less.”

Kotoko bopped him lightly on the head, ignoring his indignant yelp. “You’re all being just awful! (Y/N)’s allowed to be happy, just like us!”

“You sure warmed up to her quick.”

She frowned, looking over at Jataro. He picked at his sleeves, not making eye contact. “Real bunch of demon-haters you guys are, duh huh… Falling for aaannyyyoonnnee’ss nice words…”

She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to yell at him or call him ugly but stopped herself. She held her head up, looking down her nose at him primly. “I’d call you mean things but (Y/N) said that’s not cute. So just be quiet!”

Nagisa nodded, his hand white-knuckled on the table. “Well I don’t care about being cute. Jataro, (Y/N)’s risking a lot to give us a new chance. We owe her civility at the very least.”

Jataro frowned, tears welling up in his eyes. “You’re so mean to me.” His lips twitched up. “You hate me, don’t you? I’ll ruin your chances with (Y/N). After all, if there’s one bad apple, the rest are probably m-mmmooollldddyyy too.”

Masaru rummaged through the toys in the corner. “Whatever.” He picked up a soccer ball and grinned toothily. He dropped it onto his knee and tried to toss it to his other. It bounced off his leg but his spirit wasn’t dampened in the slightest as he ran over to retrieve it again. “You like her too, I can tell.”

Jataro huffed and plopped on the ground to draw, ignoring him. He heard rustling in his pocket as he sat down. He frowned, fishing through his pocket for the offending wrapper. His fingers met plastic and he pulled it out. A small orange candy twinkled up from his palm.

Kotoko gasped loudly, drawing his attention. She was looking out the window again, waving wildly. “She’s waving goodbye!! COME WAVE WITH ME.”

The others stood to join her but he did not. He stared down at the candy in wonder, unwrapping it carefully. It was from a company that didn’t have a factory in Towa City.

…It tasted nice. He hadn’t had their candy since before everything went down. He stared down at his violent drawing and crumpled it up, tossing it away. His blue crayon met the paper, drawing something nicer. Kinder. Stuff he used to draw… before. It was nice.

Masaru’s soccer ball collided with his head. “OOOOWW!” Jataro cried out, clutching his head dramatically.

“Ooops! Hehe, sorry Jataro.” Masaru picked up the ball with a grin.

a/n: pff thats as good of an ending as any ^^ hope u enjoyed :0!

[the-karma-cafe]

Explanation | Byakuya Togami

a/n: thank you !! i’m so happy you like my stuff :’)!

went for fluff, accidentally kinda made it a lil angsty (?) - not really just a small part but MOSTLY oblivious!reader x come on you really think i dont like you!byakuya lmao

Byakuya’s eyes lit up at the folder in his hands. I pushed up to my tiptoes, peering over his shoulder. He cleared his throat and tilted it a bit for me to see better. My eyes flitted over the notes, confused.

“What’s this serial killer got you so excited for?”

He sniffed haughtily. “These files are an exact match of the ones I keep at home.” He held it closer to his face, his gaze eagerly dancing across it, distracted. “This, my dear, is a clue.”

Heat crept up my neck. “‘My dear’?” I echoed.

“Yes?” He answered, obviously not paying attention.

I bit my lip. It was probably just a slip of the tongue. Did he have an S/O back at home? Maybe he was distracted and thought I was them for a second. I nodded at my internal reasoning. That must be it. No way would Byakuya.. I mean, Togami. I sighed. Togami wouldn’t like me like that.

“What are you sighing for?” He asked absentmindedly, moving back into the library itself. He settled into a chair, kicking one leg over the other. His nimble fingers turned a page.

I pulled a chair up next to him. “Nothing.” I sat down, peering down at the paper with him. The file had all sorts of interesting secret information about “Genocide Jack,” but I wasn’t sure why Togami would call it a clue. Did he think Jack was keeping us locked up here? Or maybe was another student hiding amongst us? I shuddered at the thought, my classmates’ faces flitting through my mind. No.. none of them seem like killers.

I winced. I’d already been proven wrong in that regard.

Togami mumbled to himself, not noticing my internal conflict. “It’s got everything, down to the calling card. If the mastermind here has all of this secret information… I can only imagine what kind of connections they must have. To my family as well, perhaps?” His eyes flashed with intrigue. “I hadn’t thought of it, but it is a possibility.” He flipped another page, nodding enthusiastically at the words in front of him. “It’s got the commonality between victims too, this is incredible.”

I scrunched up my nose, my gaze having wandered to his face. He was cute when he rambled. I’d never seen such passion in his eyes before, not even when he spoke of his former business ventures. I hummed. He probably didn’t care that much for ‘business ventures.’

Though serial killers was a strange place for a passion to build.

It didn’t matter, though. I could’ve listened to him talking about shovelling shit for an hour, if it brought that same light to his eyes.

Byakuya’s lips paused, his eyes widening as he turned to me. He stood up abruptly and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I did not mean to speak aloud.”

I shook my head, standing with him. “It was cute.”

He choked. “Cute?!” He sputtered incredulously, closing the file. “That, I am not.” He set it on the table.

I smiled easily, “You wouldn’t know ‘cute’ if it was right in front of you.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He quelled his embarrassment, meeting my gaze.

I quirked a brow. “I don’t think so. Enlighten me?”

He puffed his chest. “I’d love nothing more.” His hands flew out to grasp the sides of my face. I gasped at the sudden movement, my gaze dancing around his face for some inkling as to what he had in store.

Byakuya tilted my head, squinting through his thin-rimmed glasses at my confused features. He smoothed his thumbs across my eyebrows, cupping my cheeks as he moved down, dragging his thumbs along the curve of my face. I furrowed my brow.

His left hand lowered to the back of my neck, his thumb stroking the skin behind my ear. His right hand tucked beneath my chin, tilting it up toward his face, his thumb caressing my bottom lip.

My breath hitched at all the physical affection I was receiving, from Togami no less. I stared into his eyes, feeling a bit vulnerable in a place like this. Was he going to kill me?

An arrow of ice sang through my gut. Was he, perhaps, the killer he fawned over just moments before? I squeezed my eyes shut, praying he would at least make it swift.

A beat of silence rang in the air.

“Why do you look so afraid?” He prompted, his thumb moving from my lip to stroke my cheek. I warily opened my eyes, taking in his slightly hurt expression.

I gulped, not able to meet his searching stare. “Why else would you touch me like this if not to kill me?” I laughed dryly. “I may not have known you long, Togami, but I do know you.”

“Obviously not.” He scoffed, smoothing his hand from my neck to my shoulder. Byakuya peered into my eyes, searching again, for something I did not think was there. After a sufficient bout of intense staring, he spoke. “You really do think me so emotionally constipated.” He stated, though he sounded like he was still coming to terms with it.

I bit my lip. “I.. don’t think I follow.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “then allow me to explain.” He tugged my body towards him and caught my lips with his own. My eyes widened in shock, staring at his closed lids for a beat, before shuttering to match his own. I sighed into his mouth, pulling myself closer. His hands smoothed down to bring me closer still, his lips moving tentatively against mine.

I broke away, hiding my face in his neck. “I’m sure there were other explanations.” I mumbled into the warm skin there.

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, against my nose. “But none nearly as efficient.”

a/n: aw short n sweet. god im touch starved lmao if the writing/convos sound weird ! its bc ive been watching too many period pieces n i have yet to shake myself of a shitty british accent that started out as a joke sdhjgf

[the-karma-cafe]

do yoy write for male readerrs too or just female😙 i lovve ur blog

i do write for male readers ! and any other gender requested :) 

:0 thank you ! im happy you like m’blog :)

[the-karma-cafe]

Love Me Dead | Levi Ackerman

a/n: obsessed with this gif and for WHAT mans so tortured makes my savior complex go brrr shkdjfgj /j

completely self-indulgent i just like the song a lot (songfics are weird to write for me tho sdfjk) anyway stream love me dead by ludo 🙄🙄

so the scenario is like üh time traveler!reader has to make money n decides to perform songs at a bar until they find a way to get back to da future but I don’t really get into it sdjfk

Warning(s): mentions of a roofie, attempted assault 

LEVI POV

I dropped into the seat next to Erwin, crossing one leg over the other. This was a waste of time.

I batted some smoke away from my face, sneering in disgust at the other patrons. I didn’t care how good this performer was, the bar reeked.

Erwin offered a polite smile. “They should be out soon.” I rolled my eyes and studied the people around me. They didn’t seem too focused on any performances, too entranced by their alcohol and conversation. Maybe Erwin was just using this as an excuse to get me out of my office—it wouldn’t be the first time. “Tch.”

The guitarist stepped out onto the stage, settling themself down on the stool. They were younger than I expected, prettier too.

They hummed quietly to themself, tuning their guitar. They seemed to be in their own little bubble, as if they’d be performing whether we were here or not. The guitarist looked up at their crowd, a small smile pulling at their lips. I frowned. Obviously no one’s paying attention. Why are they smiling?

They cleared their throat and began to pluck at the strings. A couple patrons looked over, grimacing. It didn’t sound very nice. I quirked a brow, glancing at Erwin. His smile didn’t falter.

“Love me cancerously,” They began, their voice smoother than expected. “Like a salt sore soaked in the sea.” They began to strum regularly, the song taking shape. Sea? My mind echoed. I wondered if I had misheard.

“High maintenance means you’re a gluttonous queen,” My eyebrows raised at this. Gutsy to say anything remotely negative about royalty. “Narcissistic and mean.” They strummed a bit more before looking up, a smirk twisting their lips. Their hand left the guitar to snap.

Some conversation quieted. Their voice roughened. “Kill me romantically,” they spat. “Fill my soul with vomit then ask me for a piece of gum.” They taunted. I blinked. I’d never heard music like this. Erwin might’ve been onto something. Gum?

“Bitter and dumb! You’re my sugarplum~” their voice rumbled on the pet name. “You’re awful!” Their voice and gaze softened. “I love you.”

The singer skillfully transitioned to an upbeat strum. “She moves through moonbeams slowly, she knows just how to hold me. And when her edges soften, her body is my coffin.”

They took a breath, their gaze turning mischievous. “I know she drains me slowly, she wears me down to bones in bed.” They winked. My lips twitched.

“Must be the sign on my head, that says, oh,” Their strokes grew angrier. “Love me DEAD!” They sneered. I found myself hanging onto their changing expressions. How could they move from loving to seething with a strum? “Love me dead,” The words around me fizzled from my consciousness.

“You’re a faith-healer on TV.” TV? Faith-healer? Their song held emotion and meaning, but some words were foreign. I couldn’t be mishearing all of them. “You’re an office park without any trees,” Again. Office park? “Corporate and cold,” they built. “Gushing for gold! Leave me alone.”  

The song grew angry again. “You suck so passionately.” they moaned, earning a few laughs from those paying attention. “You’re a parasitic psycho filthy creature finger-bangin’ my heart.” I muffled a laugh at “finger-bangin’.” Songs in these bars were never so vulgar.

“You call me up drunk! Does the fun ever start?” Call me up? I absentmindedly wondered if that was some new slang. Their eyes met mine. “You’re hideous.” They simpered. Irritation began to coil in my gut. Are they fucking talking to me?

“And sexy!” They smiled, laughing at my expression. The annoyance dissipated. I cleared my throat from embarrassment. Right. Not at me. Of course.

They resumed and finished their chorus. “Wow! Uh~” they moaned, clearly sexually, eliciting another laugh from their small crowd. They continued solely on guitar for some measures, regaining their breath. Their song built in speed and tension. I hadn’t heard the guitar manipulated in this way before. Erwin was definitely onto something. 

Not that I’d thank him for introducing me.

The tension dropped. “Love me cancerously,” their soft voice from the beginning had returned, the words almost a whisper. They whistled playfully. And just like that the song had roughened again. “Ba da da da da daa. Ba da da da da daa.” They sang some gibberish.

Their eyes floated to me again. “How’s your new boy?” Their voice was mocking and loud. “Does he know about me? You’ve got the mark of the beast. You’re born of a jackal!” A wh- 

“You’re beautiful~!” They sang, holding my gaze a beat longer than the other patrons, their eyes trailing over my form approvingly. I straightened up, feeling like I had something to prove to this random performer.

They grinned fondly, looking away to sing the chorus again. It ended quickly. “Oh,” their vocals caressed the word. “Love me,” they dragged it out before slashing down on their guitar. “DEAD.”

Smatterings of applause rang out, and a couple of tips were placed in their jar. That was the extent of their praise, yet they seemed happy anyway, cheeks flushed.

I blinked, forcing myself from my stupor. I turned to see Erwin’s expectant smile. “Well?” He prompted.

“I’ve heard better.” I hadn’t. “They kept winking at me it was obnoxious.” It was cute. “And it still reeks in here.” It did. I hoped the performer didn’t smell like this godawful place.

Erwin’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “Well now you know where it is, so you can avoid it.”

I nodded stubbornly, eyeing them in my periphery. They were chatting amicably with another customer. He handed them a drink and they happily took it, gulping it down after their performance. I narrowed my eyes at the interaction, but left with Eyebrows.

Hanji found Erwin almost the second we left, and dragged him away for something. I wasn’t listening, though I doubted it was important.

I made my way back to the base, wrinkling my nose in disgust at the place around me. It wasn’t the underground by a long shot, but its dingy alleys and dimly-lit streets were a far-cry from the clean roads I’d gotten used to in Wall Rose.

“..ey man, quit it.” A tired voice came from an alley behind me. I quirked a brow and stepped back, peering inside.

A low laugh rumbled in the dark. “You told me to love you dead, didn’t you? Don’t mind if I-“ A slap bounced off the brick walls.

I began to walk into the alley, their silhouettes becoming clearer as I neared.

“I wasn’t talking to you, jackass. Let me g-” the taller form grabbed the smaller one, wrenching them close.

“Now you’ve fucking done it.” The lower voice growled. “Bitch. You think you’re better than me? You won’t b-“

“Shit or get off the pot.” I grunted.

“Eh?” The taller form turned to me, dropping the person in his hold. I heard them cough weakly. His features became more clear to me as he neared. Typical brute you’d find outside of a bar, harassing someone. He towered above me, sneering. “What makes you think you can talk to me like that, little man?” He snickered, patting my head.

Rage surged through my chest, pushing my fist up and through his jaw. He flew backwards, hitting the ground hard. I wasted no time in crushing him with my boot. I dug my heel into his cheek. “You’re disgusting.”

Something touched my arm softly. I turned slightly to see the performer. They cleared their throat awkwardly. “Hey,” they started, but it came out raspy and broken. They winced, and tried again. “Sorry, you’ve already helped me out a lot. Could you take me to a hotel or something? I think he might’ve slipped something in my drink.” Their grip tightened on my arm to steady themself.

I hummed, turning back to the dickhead below me. I ground my foot further into his face, hearing him groan pathetically. The performer’s weight grew heavier and I sighed, turning to scoop them up. I’d haul them over my shoulder, but… 

I grimaced at the thought of puke on my jacket.

I peered down at them. They had already fallen asleep, their face peaceful. I stared for a minute.

“I’m not done with you.” his voice came from behind me again. I turned, boredom lacing my features. The attacker staggered up, twirling a knife from his pocket. “Heh, now wh-“ I cut him off with a sharp kick to the gut.

He fell to the ground, unconscious. I spit on him.

I glanced back down at the person in my arms. They couldn’t pay for a hotel and I certainly wasn’t going to pay for one for them. I began to take them to base.

I passed some strange looks on the way but silenced them with a glare. When I finally reached base again, everyone was already asleep. I mentally thanked Erwin for being such a hardass about curfews. The last thing I needed was some snot-nosed cadet standing up to me under the guise of a savior complex.

I dropped them on my bed unceremoniously. Not like I used it anyway. They curled on top of the blankets, shivering slightly. “Tch.” I pried back some of the covers and hoisted them up and onto the sheets, tossing the cover on top of them. A small smile graced their lips. My eyes lingered on it a beat too long for my liking.

I rolled my eyes and went to my desk. I had shit to do.

~

Y/N POV

I groaned, rolling over. I felt, well, fucking bad. I could barely remember… I furrowed my brow. 

I was singing in that bar… oh, there was that cute grumpy-lookin’ guy in the back… then Paul came up again with his stupid pickup lines… oh. It was blank after that.

“You awake?” A gruff voice muttered, their breath tickling my ear. I jumped, my eyes flying open. I feared the worst, backing away from them immediately. My eyes took a minute to adjust, the person in front of me waiting patiently as I blinked owlishly.

It was… the cute grump? I smiled, confused. “Did I get lucky?”

He huffed a laugh. “You wish.” He straightened up, raking a hand through his hair. I watched, a little mesmerized by how soft it looked as it fell back onto his face. “Your buddy from the bar got a little too friendly, and I’m nice.” He paused, pinning me with his stare. He had pretty eyes. I smiled softly and his brow furrowed in response, studying me.

“Thank you.” I pushed up from the bed, wobbling slightly. I steadied myself on his arm. “Sorry.” He remained silent. I leaned against his chest. “Sorry. Can I stay like this for a second? Everything’s spinning.”

He sighed, his arms winding around me. “Most people just ask if they want a hug.”

I laughed, subconsciously snuggling closer. “People ask you for hugs? But you’re so scary! I can’t see it.”

“Some brats are gutsy.” He shrugged.

I hummed, not having a witty comeback. My head felt fuzzy. 

I pulled back in his hold to meet his eyes, and suddenly wished I hadn’t. He didn’t even need to do anything, just making eye contact was enough to make my brain short-circuit. My gaze dropped to his lips. I licked mine distractedly. “Um, how can I make it up to you? Y’know, the whole…” I waved my hand around. “Thing.”

He hummed, breaking eye contact. His hand reached up and twirled a strand of my hair. He watched the movement with a disinterested look. “I’ll have to think on it.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “I have an idea on where you can start.”

I perked up. “Yeah?”

He lightly tugged on my hair, pulling me closer to his face. His eyes moved to my lips, his face drawing nearer. “Oh!” I whispered, leaning in.

He stopped. “Levi.”

“What?” I blinked, still focused on his lips.

“My name. Do you make a habit of kissing men you don’t know?”

I flushed. “I make an exception for cute ones, Levi.”

His lips twitched. “Good answer.” He dropped my hair and stepped back, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’ve helped you enough. Go before I make you clean for the next hour.”

a/n: ohmygod can i please get a hobby KSDJFHG bitches actin like bein a levi simp is a fulltime job its me im bitches

[the-karma-cafe]

pov you request a *character* x reader thing but as you’re reading it the narrator (me) just keeps gushing about how lovely and gorgeous you are and you fall in love with them (me) instead