#Give a Damn About Your Feller Man

[soulmusicsongs]

Give a Damn About Your Feller Man (1) - Benny Gordon & The Soul Brothers (Give a Damn About Your Feller Man (1) / Give A Damn About Your Feller Man (2), 1971)

[twola]

I’m back! After a road trip and some time off, here’s another little smut piece for you. I am also still working on requests, if you have one in!

Cleanliness and Godliness

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

One can’t write Arthur smut without using the overdone bathtub trope.

“Jesus Christ, Arthur.” You look at him with a pained expression - and he sheepishly stands in front of you in the alley - covered in mud, blood, and god knows what else.

The sweet smells and sights of Valentine after market day, of course. The sun had begun to set over the peaks of West Elizabeth in the distance.

“Ain’t me who started it.” The outlaw grumbles, taking his worn leather hat from his head and shaking flakes of drying mud off of it before slapping it back onto his head.

You cringe in disgust, seeing that he did not do a thorough job of cleaning the hat.

“C’mon. Let's get you a bath over at Saints.” You sigh, hitching up your skirts as you walk past him into the muddy street, stepping toward the one hotel in this cowtown the gang has stumbled into.

“Woman-”

“No. Don’t you woman me, Mister Morgan.” You turn around, dropping one side of your skirt and pointing at him with your finger, “You’re covered in horse shit. Take a damn bath. I don’t want you anywhere near me til you do.”

The man frowns, and you cross your arms over your chest with a loud humph. There’s even mud in his beard - his hair, everywhere.

“You go take a bath and I’ll get us a room tonight. How’s that for a proposition?” You say, tapping on the ground impatiently with your foot.

A smile starts to appear on his dirty face.

“A room, y’say?” He steps closer to you, at which you very quickly pedal backward before he can grab you.

“After,” you raise and lower your finger at his frame, “You go and clean yourself up. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You smile as you turn and gather your skirts from the muddy street and make your way to the hotel.

-

Arthur was a man of the outdoors. Riding and sleeping under the stars. Civilization be damned.

But he was not going to complain about how good this bath felt, water steaming hot, his muscles relaxing after a fight, his weary bones finally at rest.

He ran his bruised knuckles through the hot water, wincing slightly as the water burns a small spot of broken skin. Arthur was able to steal a glimpse of his face before stepping into the tub - his three-day-old beard was unable to hide the darkening bruise along his jaw.

The bastard got lucky with a swing, that was all.

The latch of the door slowly unlocks, and Arthur sits up in the bath, torn from his thoughts.

“Y’need some help in there?” A soft voice calls through the crack in the door.

He smiles, reclining again.

“Hmm, maybe.”

The door opens and a female figure slides in. You stand there with a playful smile on your face as Arthur greets you with one of his own.

“I don’t remember payin’ no wash girl.” Arthur drawls, turning his head toward you, a lazy, relaxed smile on his face as he leans back in the tub.

You close the door behind you quietly.

“On the house, Mister.” You smile at him as you start to unbutton your blouse, “Want me to give you the whole experience?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow, nodding dumbly as he sits up in the tub. You smile back at him, heart warmed, as you step closer to the tub.

Buttons thread through eyelets in the steamy room as your skin is bared to him, stripping your blouse and dropping it to the floor. Your chemise leaves little of your chest to the imagination, gauzy in the candlelight. The drapes on the windows are partially drawn, leaving the room in a dim hush.

“You sure are handsome, mister.” You laugh as you sit on the rim of the large iron tub, one of your hands landing on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. Your thumb works in a circle over his shoulder blade and he hums in appreciation.

“Then you must get some ugly fellers comin’ in here.”

You frown lightly before reaching down into the water and checking its temperature.

“Lemme get you cleaned up.”

You gather suds in your hand and stand up, leaning over the tub and him to reach his arm on the opposite side of you. Rubbing gently at his skin, you snicker to yourself as you notice where his gaze has settled: directly in front of him, where your chemise top hangs low and your breasts sway gently with your movements.

Arthur’s hand raises from the water, his fingers grasping at the lace trim of your chemise and slowly pulling it down as you lean over him, your breath stuttering slightly as the fabric brushes over your nipples before he frees one breast to the open air, only inches from his face.

You’ve stopped bathing him, your hand bracing yourself on the side of the tub as you lean over it, gooseflesh breaking out over your skin, even with the warmth of the steaming water beneath you.

Arthur looks up at you, for one moment, his fingers still on your chemise, wetness spreading out over the cotton and lace.

You’re throbbing between your thighs, wanting to lean further and press your sensitive nipple to his mouth - your breathing getting faster as he pulls at the neckline again, your other breast freed from the fabric.

He leans forward and blessedly takes one of your hardening, pebbled nipples into his mouth and sucks it with a gentle pull from his lips. His hand moves to the other breast, kneading it slowly alongside his slow suckles.

You cannot help but to whine aloud as you feel his tongue lave around your peaked skin, his rough and calloused fingers enclosing on the opposite one, gently squeezing to replicate the pressure of his mouth on your skin.

The water in the tub sloshes as he sits up further, pressing his face into your breasts even more as his other hand begins to work himself under the surface. You moan aloud as you steal a look over your shoulder, the soap-covered surface of the water breaking and you can see his hand stroking up and down his hardening length.

Your bloomers are damp as the fabric clings to your skin, the hand closest to you moving to press your fingers against yourself through layers of fabric, moaning needily aloud as Arthur sucks hard on your breast.

He’s panting underneath you, pulling away from your breast as his eyes trace your arm down to where you press against yourself fervently.

“Christ - get in here before I pull you in -” he rumbles out as he yanks your chemise up from your skirt, untucking it as you pull away and stand next to the tub. You quickly shuck it from your frame, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor as Arthur gazed upon your chest, your nipple damp and shiny with his saliva as you begin to untie your skirts.

You look up from untying your skirts to see Arthur laying back in the tub, languidly stroking his cock in the water, eyes trained on you, gaze unblinking. His mouth hangs open as he pants, and god, if he isn’t the most beautiful sight you’ve seen.

Finally, the knots are untied and you let the skirts pool at your feet, slipping your shoes off as your fingers dip into the waistband of your bloomers. You push them downwards, revealing to his hungry eyes the curve of your ilium, the starting of the dark thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs, until finally, those too pool at your feet.

He smiles up at you, the wonderful man, bruised cheek and all, and takes his hand from his cock to reach toward you, the warm bath water tracing down your skin as his thumb gently glides along your hip.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You lean back over the tub to take his lips with yours, smiling into the kiss, before drawing back and lifting one of your legs to climb into the tub. His hands immediately clamp to your waist to pull you in, and with little further movement from you, you’re straddling him in the tub, lowering yourself into the warm water and settling astride his hips.

Both of your hands float southward, grasping his cock and he hisses in pleasure, his hips jutting upward in the tub against yours.

You raise up on your knees again, holding the base of his cock with one hand, while the other moves up his chest to his bruised cheek.

“You’re so handsome, even with half your face black and blue.” You whisper playfully into his lips before kissing him deeply.

He grunts back against you, “May wanna get your eyesight checked.”

You pout again for a moment, biting your tongue as the thought flees your mind. Arthur is slowly, gently pulling your hips down onto him. You take the hint and press your hips downward.

“Oh, oh-”, you whine as you lower yourself onto him, his cock carving out that space in you that you always long to have filled, “God, Arthur, you're so good.”

Your hands fly to the lip of the tub behind his head as he pulls you down all the way, the stretch of him always painfully sweet.

“You’re the o-only one I want.” You gasp as you bottom out, your rear landing on his thigh.

“Terrible judgment you’ve got there.” Arthur laves his tongue across your earlobe with his hands spread over your hips as you move yours to his shoulders.

“I love you.” You whine against his temple as you roll your hips once, and the groan of pleasure that escapes his lips is the only reply he can give for several moments.

The sound of water sloshing fills the room alongside heavy panting and barely concealed moans.

“Christ, woman-” Arthur juts his hips upward, turning his head inward to catch your earlobe again, “I love you so damn much.” He groans into your ear and you mewl, leaning backward to take more of him.

His lips return to your breast, sucking at your nipple as you roll your hips over his in the tub, both of his hands sure on your waist, aiding in your movement. You whine as you feel him start to buck his hips up in time, meeting you with thrusts that force him deeper, deeper into your tight cunt.

“Arthur-” You cry out, head falling back as you come, muscles seizing and cunt clenching hard around him. He grunts in response and continues thrusting up into you, his mouth hanging open as the water sloshes up the side of the tub.

You’re coming down from your high when you return to him, gasping like a fish out of water as he fucks up into you, your forehead pressing against his as your fingers curl around the lip of the tub again.

His teeth grit, trying to suppress a moan as his powerful arms move you, pulling your hips up and off of him as he closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose, and looking at the reddening of his chest and the noises he’s trying to stifle, you know he’s coming in the warm water.

He comes down from his high panting, cheeks and chest flushed from both exertion and the bath water. You press your forehead against his and smile, breathing heavily yourself.

Your hands move from the lip of the tub to cup his cheeks, and you lean down once again to press your lips to his, which he heartily accepts. Your tongues press against each other sweetly, his arms tight around your waist. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Unless…

“You need some help in there, mister?”

Normally, the girls have the sense to wait for a response, but for god knows what reason, this one simply unlatches the door and begins to step in.

“Oh!” The girl’s eyes widen as you move to cover your breasts, crying out as Arthur sits up and draws you into his embrace, one hand around your back and the other tucking you into his shoulder.

“No- no, ‘m fine.” Arthur grits out, trying to move to cover you decently.

After a moment of recovery, the bath girl groans and rolls her eyes, pulling the door shut as she grumbles under her breath.

“Ain’t they supposed to wait until you tell them to come in?” You grit into his shoulder, arms still wrapped around your chest, as you sit up, warily eyeing the door.

Arthur shrugs, one finger moving under your chin and pulling you back toward him.

“Well, we know she ain’t coming back anytime soon.”

[cowboydisaster]

I have a prompt idea if you're still looking for some! How about the reader finding and taking an itty bitty kitten that was orphaned and Arthur's real grumpy about it at first but then she finds him asleep on the couch with the kitten curled up on his chest and he's got a hand over it protectively or something. I know that's not really Christmas-y, but I thought it would be cute! Looking forward to all your writings as always 🥰

* ˚ ✦ Moonlight * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 1k

a/n: Sorry this was late, it's been a madhouse around here. Anyways, i love this prompt and it makes me want a house cat SO bad. i also love grumpy arthur and if you couldn't tell already, domesticity is my roman empire rn.

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

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

“No.” Arthur growls, voice stern, resolve set. Your eyes are as big as dinner plates as you continue pleading and begging. Your lip juts out, even, testing his patience, shaking his resolve.  Arthur is notoriously bad at telling you no. When you’d asked for a second baby, he’d willingly agreed. When you’d asked for the house, and the farm, he’d made it happen for you. But this?

“Please, Arthur… Where else is he supposed to go?” You whisper so as not to wake the baby, sleeping soundly in her bassinet. 

“I don’t give a damn. Not here.” Arthur grumbles, placing his tools from work on the table. You follow him around the kitchen like a shadow as he opens and closes cupboards and drawers, putting away all his items from the day. 

Arthur is pointedly trying not to look at the little black ball of fur nestled in your arms. He’s afraid that if he catches a glimpse of those big, sad eyes, he’ll agree with you, and he’ll have an extra mouth to feed.

“Where’d you find it, anyways?” Arthur says, turning, sighing as you push the teeny kitten up towards his face, holding it under its little armpits. 

“I found him stranded on the road back from the market. Look at him, Arthur. He’s not well. We’ll have to feed him.” You plead. Arthur’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he stops and turns around. You nearly run into his back, stopping just in time. 

Arthur gets a good glimpse at the little feller then. He’s just a little cat, probably only a few months old. He’s far too skinny, and his jet black coat is ruffled and dirty from the elements. You hold the cat out to show Arthur, and then he sees the little, white, crescent-shaped mark that adorns his forehead, right between his blue eyes. Arthur releases the bridge of his nose, sighing grumpily. When his eyes crack open, and he sees your pleading face, perfectly matching the cat’s expression, he gives up. 

“Goddammit, fine. Jus’ throw him in the spare room, n’ I’ll find him some fish or somethin’.” Arthur says, rather dramatically, in your opinion. You hold the kitten close to your chest, your spare arm wrapping around the man’s neck. 

“Oh, thank you, Arthur!!” You smile, kissing him quickly before popping down from your tiptoes. 

“Yeah, well don’t get all cheery just yet. We’re tossin’ him back out in the snow as soon as he’s good and healthy.”

— — — 

The rocking chair swings back and forth quietly. Your hand gently taps your daughter’s back, and you hum quietly. She’d woken you and Arthur up in a fit, hungry, raising her little fists into the air and giving you both hell. But now, her little belly is full, and a peaceful silence has fallen over the house once more. The moonlight streaking through the windows tells you that it’s early morning, and you sigh at another night’s lack of sleep. 

“Easy, baby.” You whisper, quietly and slowly standing from the rocking chair, swaying her in your arms until you reach her bassinet. 

“Good night, my sweet girl.” You whisper sweetly, pressing a kiss to her little forehead, brushing some peach fuzz out of her face. 

You push the nursery door open quietly, eager to find your place next to Arthur in bed again.  But a few steps down the hall,  you stop in your tracks, a familiar voice coming from the living room. 

“Yeah, well you’re a right bastard, y’know that?” Arthur whispers, and you suppress a laugh, peeking around the corner. 

Arthur is sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. Laying on his chest, nuzzled against his thick arm, is the little kitten. He purrs loudly, eyes closed, awfully content in your husband’s arms. Your heart melts in its cavern at the sight, and you watch the scene play out with bright eyes. 

“The lady is puttin’ the lil’ one back to bed, I figure I might as well do somethin’. So, make no mistakes, partner. We ain’t friends.” He whispers to the kitten, but contrary to his harsh words, Arthur’s finger scratches gently behind the kitten’s ear, pulling deep rumbles and purrs from the little animal. A few moments go by with Arthur’s hand resting protectively on the little cat. 

“Y’know, you are kinda cute… But don’t tell the missus I said that. I don’t want her thinkin’ I’ve gone soft.”  

You suppress a chuckle. 

“I reckon we should call you Moon… cause you got a little one right between them big eyes.” Arthur hums, eyelids growing heavy the longer he rests on the couch. You clear your throat gently, making him aware of your presence before stepping into the living room. 

“Didn’t see you there.” Arthur says, sitting straight on the couch, cheeks tinted pink. 

“She’s asleep.” You smile, “I see you’re making friends.”

Arthur exhales sharply, a huff of a laugh, “Me and the cat? Nah, he uh– he wouldn’t stop hollerin’ so I tried holdin’ him.” Arthur excuses, hand still wrapped protectively around the sleeping animal. 

“Right.” You raise an eyebrow, “You comin’ back to bed, then?” 

Arthur hesitates, looking up at you, then down to Moon. 

“I’ll be in shortly, sweetheart. Just gonna stay out here a little longer with him so he doesn’t go wakin’ you or the kids up.”

You smirk, “Alright then, Arthur.” 

 A kiss is planted to his lips before you head to the bedroom, and he sinks back down on the couch with Moon tucked into his arm. 

Five minutes turn to ten, and ten to thirty. And when you wake up to start breakfast, your husband is still cuddled up on the couch. Snores fall from his lips, matching the time of little content purrs coming from Moon, sleeping in a little ball right on Arthur’s chest.  So much for not giving a damn. You chuckle to yourself.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445 [to be added or removed, shoot me an ask! :)]

[vampyrflickan]

✧.* Clingy Cowboy

!LowhonorArthur x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing? mentions of violence and harassment basically. Not proof-read so feel free to mention any mistakes i made 😭.

A/U: this is my first ever post & one shot + english isn’t my first language. pls leave any tips you have if you want to!

Arthur has always had a problem with jealousy and his possesiveness only heightened when you came into his life. He loved you, so much. He couldn't bare the thought of you with somebody else, it drove him mad.

Tonight, you both were in the saloon getting drunk, numerous men had tried hitting on you the whole night, only provoking Arthur more.

"Them damn half-wits keep gawkin' at you." Arthur's gruff voice spoke as he glared at a couple of guys in the bar who were keeping their eye on you.

"Just let 'em be, its alright" you replied, seemingly trying to defuse him.

He scoffed and took a swig of his drink, sucking his teeth for a moment before returning his gaze onto the men.

The group laughed and whispered until one of the men from it walked up to the couple.

"Hey sugar, how bout' you and me find a spot to go and leave this old feller behind?" the man spoke, slurring his words a bit making him obviously intoxicated.

"Quit botherin' me." you spat, visibly annoyed from all the men harassing you all night.

the man cocked his head to the side, chuckling out as he did so.

“Come on, why don’t you ease up and give me a little smile? No need to get all worked up now." he spoke, his voice smug as he gave her a smirk.

He reached out to touch her arm as an attempt to convince her further.

“Get your damn hands off her. She’s mine, and you don’t touch what’s mine, you worthless varmint.” Arthur’s rough voice spoke, his eyes piercing the man’s gaze.

“Calm down, partner. She just looks mighty sad sitting next to ya.” The man replied, a smug look plastered on his face.

Arthur stood up from his chair and walked up to the man, you tried to reach out to stop him from whatever act he was about to commit.

He approached the man, who still had the same confident look on his face, even with Arthur’s broad frame stretched over him.

“I’ll wipe that smug look right off your face, boy.” Arthur spoke in a low-tone, making the man’s brows furrow.

“Who do you think you are?” the man responded and stepped closer to Arthur, trying to assert his dominance even though he was tiny in comparison.

Arthur chuckled and turned his gaze onto you, thinking over his actions. He saw you slightly smile back, he took it as an approval to continue. His attention turned back to the man and shrugged before punching him.

The man initally shocked by the punch stumbled back, almost falling to the floor. He held his face where Arthur’s punch had landed and his eyes were wide, filled with anger and fear.

“You’ve lost your damn’ mind!” the man almost whimpered out as he backed away from Arthur who was now smirking at the sight.

“Go on, run along now.” Arthur spoke, a smirk prominent on his face.

The man attempted to scoff but it almost came out as a whine and he turned heel and ran out of the saloon, leaving Arthur chuckling and the man’s group whispering to eachother.

Arthur turned his attention towards the group of men.

“Oh? you fellers’ want a taste of my fist too?” he asked, a daring look on his face.

The group all shook their heads. Arthur nodded and then finally his gaze landed onto you again.

Your expression was filled with amusement and confusion. It all happened so fast, and it was so damn attractive.

You held back a laughter as he sat down next you once again, a proud smile on his face as he gazed over you.

“What?” he chuckled out as he noticed you were staring.

“I’m real happy you’re here.” you spoke, genuineness in your voice as your eyes trailed over his features.

He chuckled, looking away for a second, a slight blush appearing on his face.

“I’m happy you’re here too, darlin’” he replied back, his hand reaching to stroke your hair.

You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, suddenly noticing how worn out you actually were.

“how about we head back to camp, sweetheart?” his gruff voice spoke as his hand slid down to caress your face gently.

You nodded into his palm and then opened your eyes to look at him, taking a deep breath before getting up and leaving with him.

Aah! this is my first post ever and i’m so nervous ..

hopefully you guys like it! and requests are always open! 😊

[salientseraph]

Via my last post, I have begun imagining interactions between Arthur (RDR2), Connor (DBH), Castiel (SPN) and 11 (DW)

I can see it now

Umm apologies if this is absolutely cringe cause I've never written fanfic but also I kinda don't care- this was for fun!!

(who am I kidding I do care)

Castiel heals Arthur's TB - A silly mini fic by me I guess?

(ft. Arthur Morgan, Castiel, the 11th Doctor, and Connor)

"Angel, would you do the honors?" The Doctor asked with a cheeky grin, motioning to the rather confused cowboy. Castiel cocked his head to the side for a moment, the Doctor flinging his hand around again in a shining motion.

"You know," He smiles, anticipating.

Castiel finally catches on and looks over to Arthur. He has not yet figured out what this coated, scruffy looking man is going to do to him, let alone why the effeminate man with the floppy hair and bowtie is so excited about it. Castiel steps closer to Arthur, all but chest to chest with him. Arthurs hand immediately hovers defensively over to his revolver as Castiel lifts his hand, pressing his pointer and middle finger to Arthur's head. A celestial hum can be heard for a brief moment, but just as quickly as it chimed, the tardis console room is left silent once more. Or, at least as silent as the tardis' engines will allow.

"It's gone," Castiel states a bit blankly toward the cowboy.

Arthur's brow knits together in confusion, "What?"

"Your tuberculosis, it's gone," Castiel replies once more, a hint of a smile crossing his stubbled face.

Arthur's knitted brow only furrows further.

"Wh- how in the hell- you're talkin' nonsense!" He sputters frustratedly, hardly understanding what these two crazy fellers are implying.

The third oddly dressed tall man, the one with slicked back hair and an even odder glowing blue circle on his temple suddenly rises from his seat. His emotions indicator now a yellowish amber color. "Your vital signs are showing a sudden spike in heart activity, are you feeling okay?"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?" Arthur snaps, even more confused than before. But it's starting to become apparent that he hasn't coughed or wheezed the entire conversation thus far. No, it must be a coincidence. Has to be.

The Doctor simply laughs, reaching for a butterscotch in his inner breast pocket and offering it to Arthur with a warm smile, "Here, this might help."

Arthur snatches it out of The Doctor's hand, though not purposefully rude. He is simply very, very thrown off.

"Ah, great - What does this one do, make me young again?" He jokes, a bit on edge.

"No, no, you silly cowboy, it's a sweet! Always makes me feel better," The Doctor jokes, popping one in his mouth and patting the cowboy on the back. Arthur gives him a glare and he quickly retracts his hand.

Wearily, Arthur pops the candy in his mouth with a sigh, "Hmh, well, I guess that makes sense....only thing that's made sense all damn day."

His face relaxes, and he goes to sit down, breathing in unison with the Tardis's engines. And for a moment, he begins to hear the absence of the rattling in his chest, the rise and fall of his chest smooth and uninterrupted.

"So...you uh, really weren't jokin' bout this feller bein' an Angel, huh?" Arthur questions, his tone a little more polite than earlier, perhaps even a bit curious.

The Doctor beams a big smile, wrapping his arm around Castiel's shoulder, "Why of course! My dear, have I ever lied to you?"

"Mister - I've only known you a day, but I don't know you."

The Doctor's lips pursed together awkwardly into a line as his arm retracted from Castiel's shoulder, swinging together and clasping, then releasing and flailing about in an uncalculated manner, "Well, yes, I suppose that is true - but, I am telling the truth, I wouldn't lie to you,"

Arthur paused for a moment in quiet contemplation.

"I ain't sure how I'm 'sposed to believe ya, but...you did rescue me from that mountain. To be honest I ain't sure what to believe, now that you've got me in this big ol....blue urh....whatever ya call it."

"Well, believe us or not, you're healed now." Castiel states blankly, as a matter of fact.

"Maybe...maybe I do believe," Arthur replied in a soft-spoken manner.

"It is a good thing you do believe, Mister Morgan, because it would be a waste of time not to. Unless of course doubt is part of the human belief system, in which case, if it is a comfort to you, you may doubt-"

Castiel laid a heavy hand on Connors shoulder, "Shh, let the grown-ups talk," He let out in a whisper.

"What, he ain't a grown man like you two?"

"I am three months old,"

"......I ain't even gonna bother,"

[battymoonflower7]

Video description: Tom Cardy performing a song with the characters - himself, Michael and Michael's Dad.

The dad appears to be sitting at a computer and asks "Hey Michael what's my uh facebook password again?" Michael asks "why?" The dad responds "your friend Tom has sent me a facebook friend request i'd like to accept it." Michael says "ah fu-"

Tom stands, bouncing a leg, singing "I don't wanna work. I just wanna flirt with your dad" the dad looks at his wrist then smiles and gives a thumbs up. Tom carries and plays a keyboard while standing and sings "Don't wanna fix my life i'd rather talk DIY with your dad" The dad brushes dust off the couch and sits with his hands on his knees.

Clips of Tom at different spots in the room singing "I don't wanna do my laundry just wanna chill with your da- da- padre". The dad points to his socks and sandals. Tom sings "neither of us gay we flirt in a super Hetero Man Way. I don't wanna work I just wanna flirt with your Dad. Just wanna barbecue with you know who, your fucking dad." The dad starts dancing. Tom sings "I was supposed to find a job and clean my damn room but instead I'm at your dad's house talking with him about World War 2. Your dad he likes me. Your dad he loves me. Your dad invited me to see Bruce Springsteen." The dad shows two tickets to the camera while dancing. Tom sings "so we flirt in a way you understand that only a friend of a son and a son's dad can. can can can ca- [repeated in an electronic manner]

Music pauses. Michael says "Basically I don't think we've seen the last of bitcoin." Tom and the Dad say in unison "uh shut up Michael" They look at each other shocked and say in unison "what did you just" Michael says in a stressed tone "no we're not doing this again. I don't. p-please don't do this" They say "Michael". He says "what? no. what?" They excitedly say "You are a" Michael interjects "No" and they exclaim "Virgin". They both cheer.

Tom sings "We make fun of you you you've never had a girlfriend. We make fun of" The dad sing "at 14 you still wet the bed." Tom sings "We make fun of you. we make fun of you. we got your social life covered." Dad dances and sings "got your family life covered. even got your little brother going". The little brother flips off the camera with both hands and goes "ugh"

Tom sings "it's just your dad and I bonding. we make fun of you."

Michael says "I'd call it bullying" The little brother says "shut up virgin ugh"

The dad dances with bigger movements. Tom sings "don't you get mad. don't you feel say. just remember this is how i flirt with your Dad."

Michael says "Ok, didn't know I had to see this but can you guys stop "flirting" please"

Tom retorts "i don't know Michael can you stop not having your drivers license?" The dad says "get your license, you're 24 mate" Tom says "I fucking love you" The dad says "I love you too". They both stick their tongues out and make exaggerated kissing/making out noises.

Michael yells "stop trying to fuck my dad"

image 1: screenshot of comments on the original video. a comment by Ayana Ayana says "I showed my dad this and he's [his] response was "Seems like an interesting feller". tom cardy, the OP of the song, replied "I'm outside".

image 2: screenshots of tumblr tags that read, "As someone who bartends at a gay bar / let me tell you the single most under represented M/M dynamic in media compared to IRL is / Early 20s burnout x mid-to-late 40s guy with dad hobbies / trust me you've never seen horny until you've seen a guy 'on break' from his studies looking at a man twice his age talk about belt sanders"

ID copied from alt text: a screenshot of tumblr tags. #ah #i see

End ID

[fleshmechsystem]

The red survivors (Working title)

By Cal

Chapter 1: New ally.

-BEEP BEEP-

Fuck, I wanted to sleep for five more minutes but I guess I have to force my ass to wake up, at least I don't have work anymore so there's that.

I sat down for a moment to recuperate myself from having some R & R after a long day of bashing the heads of those damned things for the entire afternoon, almost got my ass bit but luckily my jacket saved my life.

Can't be safe nowadays after the outbreak happened, god knows if the power grid or the water would even last for a couple of days. Well, there's no helping it, I guess I need to get some pots to store water with, could help me for a couple of days if I can boil them clean.

After meandering in my thoughts for like a couple of minutes, I decided to put on my boots and get things done. I did some stretches and ate the yogurt I stuffed in my bag and started digging in. It ain't much but it's enough to get me through the day.

As I opened the door, I heard an audible sound coming from the kitchen. Did I leave the window open? Must be those critters again, little shits always breaking shit around.

But this wasn't any critter. I heard an audible groan from the outside, it's definitely not one of those things either, it sounded too alive to be one.

I picked up my trusty axe, and slowly creaked open the door, taking a small peak, the sound definitely stopped. But I couldn't help but be a little cautious so I sneaked around, checking corners for any signs of an ambush.

Of course it could be the sounds I'm hearing again . Always keeping me up at night in the worst ways possible, but no, this one is real unlike last time. At least I hope it is.

I took a deep breath and immediately rushed my way into the kitchen, only to see a dark skinned man with neck length gray hair eating an eggplant with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Alright what the hell are you doing in here? I don't remember setting a welcome mat for you here pal."

I asked, raising my axe over my shoulders.

"Woah woah! Jush let me fimish thish then we can talk feller!"

The fuck? Is this guy a dumbass or just a moron? Why the hell is he talking while eating? I could barely understand what the hell he even said!

"Could you repeat that without shit in your mouth?" I groaned, putting the axe down to point.

"Sorry! *Gulp* Names' Wiley by the way feller! My Ma always told me to be polite, sorry about that!"

Okay, so I'm now talking to the guy that just broke into the house I'm staying in and started eating food in the fridge. I mean it's not like I didn't do the same but he could've killed me in my sleep.

I was going to ask him something but before the damned words even left my mouth, he looked at his watch and interrupted me. immediately rushed into the television to turn it on.

"Quick! The show is startin! I can't miss exposure survival!" He said hurriedly as he sat his ass down the floor watching attentively.

This guys peculiar, he could've reached for his weapon and tried to attack me but instead opted to watch some damn television.

I feel stupid for doing this but I sat down alongside him to watch the show he was watching.

"Fuck is this?"

"Exposure survival."

"...Okay no aside from that, what's so special about it?"

"Oh well I just liked watchin it everyday mister! Oh oh it's startin!!"

Well I guess I can't really give a shit about this guy, he seems to be friendlier than most folks around these parts… Well the ones that aren't dead anyway.

He has a weird glint in his eyes, almost like he's some gleeful kid at the Spiffo's headquarters. He's definitely something, alright.

"So… Wiley right? That your name? Sounds childish."

"Wiley Rojas is the name mister! Nice to meet you!" He happily says as he extended his hand towards me, which I declined shaking.

"I'm not shaking your hand, it's too dirty."

"Oh sorry mister! I'll be cleanin it up later!" He says slightly embarrassed as he places his hand on the back of his neck as he glues his eyes back to the television.

"You look like you've been through hell, do you not clean up after yourself after taking care of those things?"

No response, guy was too focused watching the show to even notice what I said.

"Hey I'm talking to you, you deaf or something?"

The show ended already but he was still glued to the screen, so I snapped my fingers in front of him to get his attention.

"Knock knock? Is Wiley still there?"

"Oh! Sorry mister, I must've lost track of time again! What were you sayin?"

He asks dumbfounded like a lost dog.

"First of all, stop calling me mister, just call me Rubin. Second of all you look like shit, go clean up in the bathroom then we can go take some more food later."

He didn't respond verbally but he simply smiled at me and went into the bathroom… With his gear still with him.

I guess I'm stuck with this guy for a while. Least I won't be lonely for some time.

-End of Chapter 1-

[soulmusicsongs]

Give a Damn About Your Feller Man (2) - Benny Gordon & The Soul Brothers (Give a Damn About Your Feller Man (1) / Give A Damn About Your Feller Man (2), 1971)

[twola]

Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

-

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

-

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

-

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

-

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

-

[ttuesday]

oooo how would the fellers act with someone who’s easily flustered? OR… what would it take to fluster THEM? …. love u 💕

I love u too anon <3

Arthur

Arthur wouldn’t purposely try to make you flustered. He isn’t usually a big tease and the only time he’d purposely tease is when you’re both in a saloon and about to get a room for the night. Arthur makes you flustered by the little touches that he gives you subconsciously.

When ye are out on a job then Arthur keeps his hand on the small of your back or if he’s close to you by camp, Arthur naturally puts his hand on your waist.

It’s very easy to make Arthur flustered. Give him a compliment? He’s blushing. Hug him? He won’t be able to say a proper sentence for at least ten minutes. Kiss him?! Arthur might faint.

Dutch

Dutch loves to get you flustered and he thinks he’s pretty damn good at it too. He can fluster you by being extra loving, whispering sweet nothings to you and gently nibbling on your earlobe.

The other way Dutch would get you flustered is by whispering pure smut into your ear. He only ever does this if he’s really in the mood. He adores teasing you sometimes and he can do it for hourssss.

To really get Dutch’s cheeks red (no, I mean the cheeks on his face goddammit) is by genuinely telling him that you believe in him. That always gets him fluster. It’s all he wants to hear so to know you have faith in him means a lot.

Charles

Charles doesn’t go out of his way to fluster you. He’s rarely teases you just because that isn’t really his thing but every once in a while, Charles will try to get you flustered. His main way to get you flustered is by saying quick yet provoctive things to you.

Charles usually does this randomly too so you’re never prepared for what he says. He waits until you’re both talking about going away for the night when he stoops down and describes exactly what he wants to do to you.

The best way to get Charles to become a flustered mess is by flirting with him in a very open setting. If you sit down next to him by the campfire and loudly flirt with Charles then his jaw drops. This is a really good way at getting him riled up too but don’t worry, he makes sure you know you’re playing a dangerous game.

Micah

Micah’s favourite hobby is getting you flustered. This man will constantly try to get you to blush. He’ll do it in the morning, evening and before bed. He gets so excited doing it too, he feels very accomplished when you’re flustered.

Micah will do literally anything to get you flustered. He has no limits. He’ll nuzzle into you, kiss you everywhere, pull you on to his lap. Anything he can think of to get you flustered, Micah will try.

Deep, deep down, Micah’s a softie. You want to make him flustered, tell him how much you love him. He’s never heard anyone tell him that before so it always makes him feel special.

John

When John feels hyper then he likes to fluster you. Normally he’ll kiss up your neck and to that sensitive area by your ear.

When he wants to fluster you that’s the first thing he does, it always works and makes you giggle which spurs John on to do it more.

There’s a very simple way to make John flustered. Tell him a dirty joke. That’s it. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell the same joke or how stupid the joke is, John will lose his mind every time.

Javier

Javier loves how easily you get flustered. It’s something he likes to play on from time to time. Sometimes he’ll make you blush by accident but other times, Javier puts a lot of effort into getting you flustered.

When Javier is around his SO, he can be very romantic and intimate. He loves eye contact so when he’s giving you compliments while staring into your soul, it can definitely make you blush. At first he didn’t realise it was intense enough to make you blush but he secretly loves that it does.

Javier is surprisingly ticklish so if you kiss a certain part of his neck, he’ll get so goddamn flustered so fast. It’s something that kinda embarrasses him but he’s fine with it when you’re the person teasing him over his ticklish tendencies.

Bill

Ok firstly, you can fluster Bill so easily. Like it ain’t even a challenge to try to get him flustered. There’s a high possibility you fluster him a few times a day without trying.

Bill doesn’t try to fluster you. If you asked him how he’d try to fluster you, he really wouldn’t have any idea of how he’d do it. But somehow Bill still manages to make you blush.

Normally what gets you flustered is the bonkers things he’ll say out of nowhere. Bill can randomly mention something completely out of the blue and with no context and it always gets you flustered.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Aftermath (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: Here is my masterlist and here is the link to go to if you’d like to be on any of my taglists! My latest rdr2 fic was a Charles fluffy piece called The Chase if you want to check it out :)

Warnings: mentions of falling off a train, hurt reader, descriptions  of wounds and blood, but mostly fluffiness

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After a heist ends badly, Arthur cleans you up and chastises you for not being more careful. 

***

Your horse came to a stop in front of the hitch post just outside of camp. You paused for a moment to breathe now that you were safe. 

Your heart was still racing from the events of earlier and your hands gripped your horse’s reins so tightly that your knuckles hurt. But that pain was nothing compared to the rest of your body. 

“Need a hand, Y/N?” Lenny asked, tying his horse up and moving towards you. 

“Get me down before Arthur-,” You stopped, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth making your stomach clench up. You knew it was him. 

Lenny helped you down from your horse, catching you as you slipped down from the saddle. You tried to put weight on your left leg, but the pain in your ankle was too much. You nearly collapsed. 

“Easy there, Y/N.” Lenny kept his arm around you. 

Your eyes caught sight of Arthur and John coming into camp. 

“Go, Lenny.” You urged, letting him go and giving him a push away from you. 

“Are you sure, Y/N? You can’t even stand on your own.”

“I’ll be fine, Lenny.” You assured him, leaning against the hitch post for support. “He’s angry and I don’t want him yellin’ at you.”

“Tie ‘er up.” You heard Arthur tell John, no doubt talking about his horse. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction of his voice. 

You took a deep breath and started to make your way across camp to yours and Arthur’s tent. You gritted your teeth together. Your nails dug into your palms from how tightly your fingers were curled up. But you pushed through the pain and kept going. You just needed to make it to the tent before Arthur could make a scene in front of everyone. 

“Y/N!” Susan gasped. “What in the hell happened to you, girl?”

You wanted to shake it off, to tell her you were fine, but you knew if you opened your mouth you’d make some sort of pained sound, something that would alert a certain outlaw that you were more injured than you let on. 

“Don’t let her walk away from you, Mrs. Grimshaw.” Arthur spoke, his voice deep and devoid of the usual teasing tone he had when he spoke towards you. 

“What happened, Arthur?” Hosea moved towards you both, wanting to make sure you were okay. 

You shook your head, still hastily walking in the direction of the tent.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t acknowledge Arthur. 

“Don’t you walk away from me, woman!”

You were so close to the tent, maybe another six steps and then you’d be able to—

A large hand grabbed hold of your arm and he pulled you around to face him. You lost your balance, stepping on to your left leg. You cried out in pain and your knee buckled. 

Arthur caught you, one of his arms wrapping around your torso while the other grabbed your hip. 

“Let me go, Arthur!” You pushed against him, your hands flat against his chest as you tried to put as much space between yourself and him as possible. 

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Y/N. Ya got a busted ankle. Shouldn’t be walkin’ on it.”

“I can handle it my-damn-self!” You protested, still pushing against him. You tried to pry his hands away from you, to break his firm grip on you by grabbing his fingers and pulling away but he wasn’t letting go. 

“Quit being so goddamned stubborn, woman.” Arthur growled through clenched teeth. “Ya just fell off a fuckin’ movin’ train! Stop tryin’ to act so tough!”

“Get your hands off of me, Arthur Morgan!”

“Enough!” Dutch boomed, sending a wave of silence across the whole camp. It was only then that you realized everyone was watching you look like a fool. 

Arthur released you. The second he did, your weight was naturally distributed to both of your legs. You winced and lost your balance, using a crate by John and Abigail’s tent for support. 

Arthur flinched as if he’d catch you, but you caught yourself before he could come to the rescue. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Dutch asked, a furrow in his brow. 

“M’fine.” You forced through gritted teeth. “Wish people would stop askin’ me that.”

“Looks like you got into a bad fight at the saloon and lost.” Micah commented. 

“I’ll fucking show you a bad fight, you fucking inbreed-,”

“You better watch your mouth-,”

“I might be torn to hell but I will beat your ass into the ground-,”

“Cool it, both of you!” John intervened, stepping in front of Micah. 

“You can barely stand on your own, and you’re covered in blood.” Dutch said.  

“S’not my own.” You muttered, but he didn’t bother to listen to you. “Least I don’t think it is.”

“We don’t need you dyin’ off from an infected wound, Y/N. If you won’t let Arthur help you patch yourself up, have one of the girls do it.”

You nodded, locking your jaw tightly. 

Hosea shooed everyone away, knowing very well you’d pick Arthur. You were thankful that he’d give you guys some privacy. It was hard when the only walls you had in camp were made of canvas. 

“Are ya gonna stop bein’ a stubborn ass so I can help you?” Arthur asked. 

You nodded, keeping your eyes down. 

He moved towards you, carefully scooping you up bridal style. You winced, eyes squeezing shut. The way you were moved created a sharp pain in your ribs. 

Arthur took you to your shared tent and sat you down on the cot. 

“Start taking off your clothes.” He moved away from you and began to unravel the sides of the tent to give you privacy. 

Your hands were too heavy. Your muscles ached. Even the thought of moving brought on pain. You knew very well you wouldn’t be able to undress by yourself. 

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to look at you and saw that you were just staring at the picture of his mother he had framed on the chest next to the cot. 

“Pumpkin?”

“Hm?” You didn’t tear your eyes away from the picture. He could see it in your eyes. You weren’t really there with him. You were in your head. Arthur let out a gentle sigh, rubbing the side of his head, and moved to kneel down in front of you. The movement caught your attention, drawing your eyes to him. 

You took in a little breath, straightening your posture as your eyes focused on him. 

“M’gonna go get some things to clean you up with. Get some of your clothes off so I can see what we gotta deal with okay?” His voice, though deep and rumbly, was sweet and gentle. “Maybe put on your little gown, okay? That way we can see everything without you bein’ so uncovered.”

You said nothing, but you kept your eyes on him, on his lips more specifically. He wasn’t sure if you were actually getting everything he was saying, or if you were still zoned out. 

“Can you do that for me, pumpkin?”

You nodded your head a little. 

He rubbed the outside of your thigh before standing up and leaving the tent. 

You watched him go and for some reason seeing him leave made your heart beat harder and faster. Tears stung your eyes and you quickly brought your hand up to wipe them away. 

The events of earlier that day flashed through your head.

It was supposed to be an easy train robbery. Dutch and Hosea had planned it out with Arthur taking the lead. You joined him with Lenny, John, Javier, and Sean. 

Everything went smoothly until another group of eight men on horses showed up with plans to rob the train themselves. And as luck would have it, you used to run with one of the men. He was anything but a nice guy and definitely not someone you wanted to run into during a heist. 

When Arthur returned to the tent, he found you sitting on the cot hunched forward with your head in your hands. You weren’t changed out of your clothes and it appeared that you were crying. 

He placed the bowl of warm water down on the chest by the cot and put the other supplies in his arms down as well. 

He knelt down in front of you, large hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands from your face. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were red. 

“Are you cryin’ cause I was yellin’ at ya?”

You shook your head. 

“Are you hurtin’?”

You nodded. 

“Where at, pumpkin?”

“Everywhere, Arthur.” You cried quietly. “I-I’m so-sorry.”

“Don’t start that now.” He shook his head. “Won’t do you any good to start apologizin’ while you’re upset like this. It’ll just make ya even more upset. Don’t want ya makin’ yourself sick. Now let’s get you outta these clothes.”

“I-I can’t-Arthur, I’m just-,” You couldn’t seem to form sentences even though you knew what you wanted to say. The adrenaline had worn off and you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep, but you knew Arthur wouldn’t let you do that just yet. 

“S’alright, pumpkin. I’ll help ya.” He reached up and began to unbutton your shirt. 

You fell silent, sniffling every now and then. 

Once your shirt was unbuttoned, he carefully pulled it off of your shoulders. 

“Shit, Y/N.” Arthur cursed under his breath. With your shirt gone, the bruising on your arms and chest could now be seen. 

There were hand-shaped bruises along your upper arms and a few cuts on the back of your right forearm. Your chest had a long bruise across it too. It was an odd pattern and Arthur couldn’t figure out quite what it was. 

“I-I didn’t….” Arthur reached out to tentatively trace his fingers over the bruising on your bicep. “Did I….?”

“No.” Your voice was raspy. “That’s not from you. There was a man on the train. He caught me off guard. He’s the one who gave me a busted face.”

Arthur pressed his lips together in a firm line. You could see the anger festering behind his eyes. His large hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across the corner of your cracked lips. You winced a little. He apologized softly. 

“What about the one on your chest?”

“There was another feller, he used a metal bar to clothes line me.”

He pulled his hand from your face, eyes lingering on the nasty bruise on your chest. 

“The second I got my footing, I put a knife between his ribs.” 

“That’s my girl.” He praised, making your heart race. 

Arthur reached around you to find the strings to your corset. With one effortless tug, the corset loosened and you took a breath. 

“I know you’re happy to be outta that.” Arthur tossed the corset to the foot of the cot. “Ya think you could stand so we can get your jeans offa ya?”

“I can stand on my right, but not my left.”

“I’ll be on your left. You lean against me. How about that?”

You nodded. Arthur stood up and helped you to your feet. You slipped an arm around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of his jacket to brace yourself. He put an arm around you too. 

“How am I supposed to get my jeans off when I got one arm around you and you got one arm around me?” You asked him. 

He paused for a moment and you watched as he thought about it. 

“Well, I gotta hand and you gotta hand. Why don’t we use ‘em both?” He suggested. 

You giggled. 

It took some effort, but the two of you worked together to unbutton your jeans and get them down. 

Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he saw the cut on your thigh. How did he not see it before? 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“M’fine, Arthur.”

He got you into your nightgown and then sat you back down on the bed. 

He started with the thigh wound, cleaning the dried blood and then wrapping a bandage around your leg. From there, he looked down at your ankle. A bruise had already formed and around the joint was swollen. 

He sighed out, then turned his attention to the bowl of warm water. He dipped the clean rag into the water and rung it out. His eyes flickered up to your face. He paused for a moment. 

Your nose had been bleeding but now the blood was smeared across your cheek, dried. Bruising trailed from underneath your eye down to your cheekbone where a cut was from a fist. Your lips were busted and split open. The corners of your eyes were black and blue. Your nose didn’t look broken, so that was good. 

He let out another sigh. You knew he was trying to keep his emotions at bay. 

“I…. Arthur, m’sorry.” You whispered, your voice breaking from how quiet you were. 

He shook his head. His jaw ticked as the muscle tightened. He was gritting his teeth together. 

“How could you be so stupid, Y/N? Told you to wait for Javier or John. I knew there were men coming but you didn’t listen.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“But I wouldn’t’a been thrown from the goddamned train.”

“You don’t know that.” You mumbled under your breath. 

Arthur took hold of your chin, turning your head so you had no choice but to look at him. 

“Don’t get that way with me, pumpkin.” He started to wipe blood from under your nose. “You could’ve died today. I…. I could’ve lost ya.”

You fell silent. 

He cleaned the blood from your face, using soft, gentle brushes with the rough rag. 

“Arthur? Y/N?” Mary Beth spoke from outside of the tent.

“It’s alright, Mary Beth.” Arthur dipped the rag into the water. “You can step in.”

You looked to him then down at his chest. 

“Just wanted to bring Y/N some supper. Thought maybe she’d be hungry.” Her eyes found you and she gasped softly. “Oh, Y/N. You….” She trailed off. 

“I’m okay.” You assured her, offering her a little smile.

“Thank you, Mary Beth.” Arthur took the bowl of soup from her and placed it down on the chest by the cot. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” She asked softly.

“Get me some fresh water in this bowl please, would ya?” Arthur asked her. 

“Of course.”

As she slipped out of the tent, Arthur returned his attention to you. 

“The man who threw me over….” You started, but trailed off, unable to finish. 

“I’m gonna find him and kill ‘em.”

“No, Arthur.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at Arthur. “Please. You-You have to promise me never-to never go after him. I’m-I’m fine. Just a little beat up is all.”

Arthur furrowed his brows together. 

“Do you…. You know that feller, don’t you?”

“Used to run with him.” You answered quietly. “He’s not someone you play with, Arthur. He’s worse than Micah.” 

Arthur sighed through his nose. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me back there that you knew him?”

“It wasn’t really high on my list when we had fellers shootin’ at us, Arthur.”

He rubbed his brow.

“I know you’re mad at me.”

“M’not mad at ya, pumpkin. Just…. I was scared that I was gonna lose you.” 

You turned your head away from him but he wouldn’t let you look away for very long. With two fingers beneath your chin, he turned your head back to him. 

“When I saw you go over the side of that train, I-I fuckin’ lost it. Nearly beat the piss outta poor Lenny ‘cause he was in my way. Couldn’t get to you fast enough.” Arthur shook his head. He brushed a tear from your cheek. “When we finally stopped the train and I found you….” He trailed off. 

“It don’t matter now, Arthur. I’m here.” You reminded him, turning your head to kiss his palm. 

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, Y/N.”

“We got dangerous lives, Arthur. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can damn sure try.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You mean the world to me, pumpkin. Ain’t gonna let shit happen to you. Even if that means I gotta stop you from doin’ stupid shit.”

You smiled a little, leaning forward to tuck your head underneath his chin.

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm  

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[gaaavin]

Edmund Lowry Jr.

Hiya! I've had another idea and wanted to write something for it, too. It’s inspired by / based on that serial killer in RDR2. Feel free to give me feedback or whatever you'd like. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

Words: 4.9 k

Summary: You thought it'd be an easy job with a nice prey at the end of the evening, until everything took the wrong turn.

Warnings: angst, mentions of torture but nothing too graphic, kidnapping, thoughts about death but with a happy ending

Finally, some green around you. That was your first thought, after you and the whole Van der Linde gang had arrived in Horseshoe Overlook. It was a lovely camp with a beautiful view. You sure could stay here for a longer period this time, hopefully. The constant moving took a toll on everyone just as much as the running from the law. Before finally settling into your current camp, all of you had to flee from Blackwater. A job there had gone terribly wrong and there was talk about Dutch losing control and shooting a woman. You hadn’t been there at that moment but you just couldn’t imagine that something like this would ever occur. The Dutch you knew would never harm any innocent folks. This escape resulted in an overhasty departure for the mountains – Colter had been the place of refuge up there. It was cold and you almost had no supplies. You generally liked the cold weather and snow but the storm up there you all had to endure was way too much to enjoy it at all. For now, though, you tried to push the negative thoughts away, instead concentrating on your new surroundings.

About a week after all things had been unpacked, you decided to go into the nearest town – Valentine. Dutch was right about all of you needing money urgently and you of course wanted to contribute, too. You saddled your mount up and rode out, but not before telling Karen where you wanted to go. “I’ll check, if I can find anything interesting in Valentine. Do you need something from the store while I’m in town?” you asked her. Her response coming promptly. “Some candies would be nice, would make these days here a lot more enjoyable.” As she concluded her answer, she winked at you earning her a small laugh on your part. After nodding, you spurred your horse and went into town.

The first thing you noticed was the smell, even before you entered the city at all. The second thing was the auction yard. Well, that explains it. No wonder it smells like horseshit everywhere around here, you thought as you entered the city. The people seemed friendly towards you, greeting you here and there. Although, you knew that you shouldn’t get on the town’s bad side. Some of the guys from your camp had caused trouble in the saloon some days ago and let’s just say that they aren’t as welcome in there anymore.

One of the boys was Arthur, your- well, you didn’t know what exactly the two of you were. Back in Blackwater your friendship slowly turned into something more intimidate, even romantic, with it peaking one drunken night around the campfire when you shared your first ever kiss. The sparks flew through the air and you felt like you were on cloud nine, being the happiest you had been in months. Since then, though, it felt like Arthur was avoiding you. Or maybe you were just imagining things. After all, you two hadn’t had much time after all the fighting, shed blood and the running after that. You had a special bond with Arthur like you’ve never had with anyone before – even before your relationship went to some sort of next level. You could communicate without words, understanding the other in more than one precarious situation. Currently, Arthur was away to get Sean back from those bounty hunters – that’s at least what John had told you earlier. You tried to push the thoughts of Arthur to the back of your head, trying to focus on the task at hand – find a lead or somebody to rob.

As you finally arrived at the saloon across the gunsmith, you hitched your horse and entered the facility. You were greeted with warm, liquor-filled air as you headed towards the bar, letting your eyes wander around. Drunk men were an easy prey. Before leaving camp, you had put on nice clothes, that were quite revealing. For you, that was the best way to gather information about anything or to rob someone. You mostly played either the damsel in distress or someone looking for some night company and most of the men fell for it every time, letting you close enough for you to relieve them of their valuables or information. Either was welcome.

After some time, your eyes landed on a stranger, that was looking directly at you. Bingo! You tried to approach him with your best smile. “Hey stranger.” You said, earning you a small smile from him. He had something odd to him. You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but something about him put you off and gave you goosebumps all over. For now though, you tried to ignore your gut feeling. You were experienced in the things you did on an almost daily basis. Even if he could possibly be some sort of danger for you, you would definitely be able to defend yourself. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time some drunk feller had inappropriate thoughts about you.

“Hey there.” He grinned at you. As you took a real first look at him, the thing you noticed right away were his eyes. You were a firm believer that the eyes displayed the door to the soul and his were just so… dark. Not just the color but also their aura. They had a strange glint to them and there was something deeper hiding behind them. Something bad maybe? Nonetheless, you offered him a drink and ignored your gut feeling again. After all, you wanted your camp members to have something to eat or rob in the future. “You seem lonely tonight. May I offer you a drink and maybe my company?” you asked him while fluttering your lashes. He seemed to think about his response for a moment, before finally saying. “Sure, that would be very kind of you. Thank you. Name’s Edmund Lowry Jr. May I ask yours?” You smiled innocently at him, before telling him a fake name.

Unfortunately, Mr. Lowry declined every further offer of you to buy him another drink. It would make things definitely more complicated if he didn’t want to get drunk. Quickly thinking of a plan B, you ultimately decided that you could just knock him out with the revolver hidden under your clothes if you’d be able to lead him to a more secluded area somewhere outside. He had told you earlier that he was a rich man and owned some land outside of Valentine, so the prey was too rewarding to not at least try to rob him. Although your plan was pretty dangerous, you put it into action by asking him if he’d mind joining you for a small walk outside. “The air in here is really getting to me and I think I need some fresh, new air.” He grinned almost devilish at you, before offering you his arm to lead you outside.

Taking a stroll in the streets, you tried to steer him towards the stables. This terrain was secluded enough for you to hit him and flee without causing much of a scene or getting caught. He guided you towards the fields in the back of the stables, let go of your arm and took a step forward, facing the wide area behind Valentine. This was your moment. With his back to you, you reached under your clothes to grab the revolver but just in that moment he turned rapidly around and pointed towards the theatre. Out of sheer shock your revolver slipped from your hand. Damnit! You tried to drown out the clattering of your weapon with an awkward cough. “My dear” he started and you turned around to follow the direction of his finger. You now stood one step ahead of him and couldn’t see him. “Would you like to visit a show with me?” In that moment you heard him shuffle behind you. Bewildered, you turned around and everything went black.

Arthur came back to camp after successfully rescuing Sean from those bounty hunters in Blackwater with Charles, Javier and Trelawny. He was dead tired and just wanted to eat something and go straight to bed. As he dismounted his horse, he went directly to get some stew and grab a bottle. Along his way, he was greeted with a well done here and there. Arthurs eyes wandered around camp, searching for you but you were nowhere to be found. It wasn’t strange for you to be absent; you often went to look for jobs and therefore were away for some days. Nevertheless, he was a bit disappointed to not be able to talk to you. The both of you hadn’t really had the chance to properly speak, especially not about your situation. He was so goddamn afraid of what was to come, of what you had done to him – he had opened his heart for you unwillingly and wasn’t sure if he could handle another proper relationship. What if you left him? What if one day you woke up and decided that he wasn’t what you wanted anymore. He couldn’t deal with another heart break.

After Arthur finished his stew, he went directly to bed. This night a welcome party for Sean was set to be celebrated and he just wanted to close his eyes a little bit before that. After some hours of more or less peaceful sleep – after all the party was being prepared and people were rummaging everywhere in camp – Arthur finally got up and let his eyes wander around camp in search for you again. “They aren’t here. Karen told me earlier.” Arthur looked to his left from where that characteristic voice came from. “Marston.” Arthur greeted him before John continued. “They went to scout for any leads in Valentine.” Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. Was it really that obvious to others? He decided to play dumb in hopes that he’d eventually be left alone. “I don’t know what you mean. Am not looking for anyone.” John smirked knowingly as he countered. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Don’t you dare to think I’m stupid. I have eyes, Morgan and I know you pretty well.” Arthur sighed, slightly nodding. “Yeah, whatever.”

The celebration was pretty fun. Almost the whole gang was gathered around the campfire, singing songs away happily. These were the times in which Arthur almost forgot that they were actually running from the law. Of course, they had done that before but it never seemed as bad as it was now. Blackwater left a stain on everyone in one way or another, Colter wasn’t much better for regaining strength. His rock, though, has always been you. Since he’s gotten to know you, you always were able to calm him down, ease his nerves and see right through him no matter how inaccessible he tried to appear. You weaseled your way right into his heart. Although your way of life was a dangerous one, he knew deep down that you two were somehow meant for each other – understanding each other on a level he’s never had with anyone before.

As the night went on, Arthur’s mind always wandered back to you. He just wasn’t able to get you out of his head for even one goddamn night. Soon, he said his goodbyes and went to his tent, writing down his thoughts first before finally retiring to bed. By midday the following day you still weren’t in camp and Arthur started to worry, a bad feeling creeping up on him. Should he go search for you? No one knew how long you’d be gone. But even if you were just at the saloon or wherever it wouldn’t hurt to check in on you. Maybe you two would even be able to spend some quality time together after everything that has happened.

Soon after, Arthur mounted his horse and rode off, shortly after arriving in Valentine. Where should he start to search for you? Maybe the saloon? After all, it was so to say the heart of the town. If here was going on anything, he’d find his answers in there. After arriving at the facility, he immediately recognized your horse. So, they’re here, he thought to himself. Relieved, he finally swung the doors open and headed towards the bar. His eyes roamed the room, but found you nowhere. That struck him odd. You wouldn’t ever leave your horse behind somewhere. Just as Arthur sat down at the bar, the bartender spoke up. “Oh no, not you again mister. I don’t want any more trouble in here.” Arthur sighed, before replying. “I’m not here to cause trouble mister. I’m actually looking for a friend of mine. Have you seen them?” Arthur gave the man behind the bar a brief description of you and looked at him expectantly after he finished. The bartender seemed to think about it for a moment, before saying “Oh my memory isn’t the best, Mister. Maybe a little tip of yours could help it.” Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes while reaching in his bag to throw some coins towards the man behind the bar, adding “Now spit it” with gritted teeth. “Thank you. Well, I have indeed seen them in here. Yesterday they spoke to a man, seemed pretty cozied up, flirting the whole night. They left together, too. Seemed to go towards the hotel.” “Anything else?” Arthur asked. “No, not really. It’s just… That man that was with them yesterday seemed fairly strange. I didn’t have a good feeling with him. I can’t explain it really, but he was rather sinister.” Arthur thanked the man, before heading outside to try and track your footprints. He knew that you wouldn’t go with a man into his hotel room just like that, at least not to actually engage with him. You just weren’t the type for something like this. Hopefully, Arthur could track you down quickly. He didn’t have a good feeling in this.

As you slowly came back to your senses, your head practically screamed at you. It hurt like hell. What happened? You forced your eyes open and although the room was dimly lit, you tried to take in your environment. Where am I? So many questions came crushing down on you all at once as you tried to comprehend what you were seeing around you. While examining your surroundings, your eyes landed on the wall. There were many reports of missing persons. Where the hell am I? Letting your eyes travel further, the next thing they saw was blood. A whole lot of blood. Everywhere. And was that… a corpse in the corner? I need to get out of here immediately. You thought terrified and tried to move, but didn’t get away. You were tied up. God damn it! Your movements seemed to attract the attention of something or someone else in there. So, I’m not alone in here. You didn’t know whether that soothed your nerves or made everything worse. Just in that moment a voice from somewhere near sounded. “Oh good, you’re finally awake.”

Arthur finally arrived near the stables where your tracks ended, your horse in tow as well. Hmm, seems like someone was dragged from here to a horse. He examined the surrounding ground as he suddenly saw something shiny near one of the barrels. As he got closer to the object, his mouth fell slightly agape while his brows furrowed simultaneously. It was your revolver, he recognized it immediately. It had a special engraving he bought you while out in Blackwater. You two had to grab some ammunition for a job beforehand and as you saw the engraving you were thrilled. It looked so pretty. Seeing you all excited, Arthur wanted you to have something nice reminding you of him that you always took with you – no matter where you went. So, it was even more concerning finding it laying here with you nowhere in sight. What happened to you?

You knew that voice. This couldn’t be… Or could it be the man from the saloon? Just as you tried to recall the events from the night before, the man came into sight. You turned your head to look at him, letting your eyes wander from his face further down to his hands. They held something shiny in them. Finally recognizing that it was a huge knife, your eyes widened in shock and you gulped audibly, starring at him blankly. “Lowry.” You managed to get out between gritted teeth, your voice sounding too hoarse to really sound mad. “Welcome to my most favorite place in the world. Save yourself thinking what is about to happen. Now, I’m not going to lie. It’s not going to be nice… and fun. I mean, it will be fun for me, but it won’t be nice for you. At least, no one’s found it nice so far. Maybe you’ll be the first.” Lowry laughed maniacally, before he continued. “Do you like pain? Is it your friend? It’s about to become your very close friend. Very close. But when it’s over…release. Glorious release. Now, there’s no point fighting. You might as well try and relax a little bit.” Lowry approached you slowly, looking almost peaceful while you wanted to scream, scratch his eyes out, just do anythingto escape the upcoming hell awaiting you. As Lowry moved the huge knife slowly closer and closer towards your torso, a thought came to your mind. It was one single thought that hadn’t occurred to you up until now; you weren’t going to make it out alive of here and you wouldn’t ever see your family or Arthur ever again. You were tied up too strong to escape. As the realization hit you, you let your desperate tears fall freely – hopefully he wouldn’t stretch it out too long and you didn’t have to suffer too much.

Arthur had a bad feeling, a really bad feeling about this. Something just wasn’t right. Things weren’t adding up. You’d never leave your two most precious things somewhere voluntarily. Something had happened to you and Arthur was determined to find out what that was, to find you above all. Hopefully alive. He thought to himself but pushed that thought away quickly. He couldn’t stand to think something like this. After all, you could handle yourself pretty well, right? Arthur had seen you many times shoot yourself out of a dicey situation. You were smart, not taking too many risks. But no matter what he knew about you, he knew just as certainly that this time something went the wrong way. He tried to track the hoofbeats up to a door on the ground. Maybe an entrance to a cellar? He thought to himself with his stomach dropping to the floor.

Arthur examined the door closely, eventually discovering the locket on it. He took a steadying breath, before attempting to crack it. His hands were shaking, he was so afraid of what he’d find behind that damn door. Just as he leaned closer towards the door and the lock to start cracking it, he heard a bloodcurdling scream from inside the cellar. Was that your voice? Oh damn, yes, that sounded definitely like you. His first thought was that he’d kill that bastard causing these sounds to escape from your lips. His second thought, though, was Thank God, you’re alive. As he finally was able to enter the room, he could hear heavy panting. He didn’t waste any time looking around, heading straight towards the source of the sounds. As you saw him, your eyes widened, shaking your head frantically. Your mouth was stuffed with some sort of white cloth, so you couldn’t speak to him. This is a trap! You wanted to scream at him. Arthur looked at you with a deep sadness in his eyes – and adoration. You looked like a complete mess. Everywhere on you was blood. Lowry cut along your torso and beat you, resulting in a black eye and a burst open lip. But nonetheless, Arthur had that look on him that he just gave you – a special soft one. It let the tears well up in you even more than before, now crying desperately.

Arthur couldn’t believe it. You were alive, but only barely. You looked like you went through hell and you probably been there for the last hours. How long have you been down here? At that thought, guilt overcame him completely. While he was in camp sleeping, partying with his family, you were being tortured and bearing unspeakable torment. How could he have been so dumb? He should’ve listened to his gut feeling, searching for you earlier. He sprinted towards you and wanted to free you from your bonds, beginning with your mouth. “Are you alright?” He asked you concerned, before looking you up and down for any deep wounds. “It’s- It’s a-“ you tried to answer him, but your throat was sore from all the screaming and the lack of fluids.

Arthur heard something behind him, a slight movement, but enough to cause him to turn around pretty quickly. Too quickly for Lowry, who hadn’t expected that. Lowry stumbled slightly back, hitting the wall with his back. Arthur took advantage of the confusion of his opposer and hit him hard, once, twice. Arthur was so furious. How dare that man to do something like this to you? How dare he touch you at all? All these thoughts were crushing down on him, altogether with his guilt about not being able to protect you. He beat him up, again and again and again. It was almost as if his fists moved alone by now. “Arthur, stop!” He heard your raspy voice, breaking with every syllable and it brought him back to reality. Lowry was knocked out and didn’t move anymore. Arthur shook his head as if shaking all those thoughts off for now. He tied Lowry up quickly, before rushing to you to finally free you for good. As you were finally free, you basically fell in Arthurs arms and just started to cry. It was a mixture of everything – pain, fear, but also relief and gratitude. Arthur helped you up the stairs and lifted you up on his horse. After that he sprinted back to get Lowry and loaded him on your horse and finally mounted behind you in his horse.

The way to the Sherriff’s office was quiet. No one said a word. You were sniffling and resting against Arthurs body with your eyes closed, while he soothingly rubbed circles and held you close so that you wouldn’t slip off his mount. “I’m gonna bring him in and tell the Sheriff where to find that damn cellar and after that, I’ll finally bring you home. Just wait here a second. I’ll be back in a moment.” You nodded slightly, hoping it wouldn’t take too much time. You just wanted to head back to camp and sleep it all off.

After a short time, you heard a shot from the office. Your eyes widened in shock and your heart started to thump heavy in your chest. What was happening in there? After a few moments, Arthur finally came out again. “That bastard tried to kill the Sheriff. I had to shoot him.” You just nodded, sighing relieved, while looking him up and down for any injuries. “I’m fine. Now, let’s get you back home.”

The last few days have gone by in a blur. After you arrived back in camp, Ms. Grimshaw tended to your wounds and you were on a good way. Arthur hadn’t left your side all this time – bringing you stew, a coffee or just keeping you company. He wouldn’t even sleep in his own tent, always staying with you on a chair next to your kot. Today was the first time in days that you felt like you could walk around a bit – and you desperately needed it. Being trapped all those days in camp was making you go crazy. “Arthur, would you mind taking a walk with me?” you asked him. He seemed to contemplate for a moment. Shouldn’t you go easy a few more days and rest? “Arthur, please. I’m gonna go mad if I have to stay here for another day. Just a small walk along the shore. You’re with me, so what could possibly happen to me?” That question stung a bit. He couldn’t protect you before, why were you still feeling so safe with him? Nonetheless, Arthur finally agreed, offering you his arm to support you just in case you felt weaker again.

As the two of you arrived at the little beach, you held tightly onto his arm. You never wanted to let go. Coming to a halt, you two turned to watch the water. So peaceful. “You know...” you started, breathing in and out. “When I was trapped back there in that cellar, I really thought I wouldn’t make it. I thought that the last things I’d ever see would be blood on the walls and that bastards face with that devilish grin. I was so mad at myself for not listening to my gut feeling, for being so goddamn stupid, that I kinda felt like I deserved it. I thought that the last thing I’d hear would be that maniac’s laugh or my own screams. I thought that I’d never see daylight again, flowers, my family or you. Before that happened, I thought you were avoiding me or that you maybe thought that this kiss back in Blackwater was a mistake.” At that his head snapped towards you, watching you intently before you continued. “And I had regrets. Not about the kiss, of course, but about not telling you how I truly felt about you Arthur. I love you; I really do. I couldn’t bear not seeing you again. It broke my heart.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought back to your personal hell, Lowry’s most favorite place as he called it. This thought struck a nerve inside you, his voice echoing those exact words. Your tears started to fall freely by now and a chocked sound escaped your mouth. “I really thought I lost you, Arthur. I thought I lost against him. After all this time running, it would be a failed lead that had the power to end me.” You cried and just couldn’t stop. Arthur embraced you, pulling you tightly against him as if he never wanted to let you go again. While holding you like this, he said. “When I came back from rescuing Sean, I was disappointed you weren’t in camp. When you weren’t there for the welcome party I started to worry. But when I saw your horse outside of the saloon and you weren’t nowhere in sight, I panicked and freaked out. I knew you’d never leave him behind. I was so desperate to find you and just so goddamn afraid. Afraid, I’d never see you again. That I’d lost you while I was back at camp relaxing. I wasn’t able to protect you, eating and sleeping while you were being tortured. That image of you tied up, covered in blood just won’t leave my mind. Maybe if I went to look for you earlier, you didn’t have to endure all this. I couldn’t protect you and I’ll never forgive myself for that and I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

You slightly leaned back to look him in the eyes that were filled with so much sorrow and guilt, it made your heart ache. “Arthur” you began, while cupping his cheek with your hand, the other still holding tightly onto him. “This wasn’t your fault, do you hear me? There isn’t any chance in the world you could’ve prevented this. You know I normally can handle myself; it was a job gone terribly wrong. If anything, you saved me. You saved my life – I owe you my life, Arthur. Don’t you dare put this burden on your shoulders. I never asked you to come along with me, I went alone and I knew that something could happen. Believe me, this wasn’t your fault, not at all. Lowry did kidnap me, not you. He mistreated me, not you. He used his knife to hurt me, not you. Even if you had been there earlier, he still would’ve had more than enough time with me alone. Please believe me when I say, that there is nothing I have to forgive you. And there isn’t anything you have to forgive yourself. You couldn’t have changed this in any way. I should’ve listened to my sentiment. He had something strange about him from the beginning. But he told me that he was rich so I went for it nonetheless. “

Arthur still wasn’t fully convinced, but seemed more at peace – at least for the moment. “I really thought I lost you and I never want to lose you again. Back in Blackwater, I was so damn afraid of what we had but now I can’t get into my head how foolish that was of me. I love you, too, so damn much. And if you’ll still have me, would you want to be mine?” You were smiling through your tears, as you nodded and finally kissed Arthur the second time in your life. This time, though, with more certainty than ever before.

[johnnycranes]

“I need you to pretend we’re dating”

Micah x F!Reader

But it’s the 1800s so “we’re together” instead of dating i guess lmao. This was supposed to be a short fic, how in the world it reached over 2k words idk. 

Anyway I’ve missed writing for Micah so here’s my attempt at a comeback. Prompt masterlist here.

Rating: T with just a splash of M but nothing too crazy. 

Micah x F!Reader

Karen finally convinced Arthur to let you and her go back to Valentine after what happened the last time the blonde woman visited. 

‘Course, this time Karen decided to bring Sean along. The Irishman just happened to be free when Arthur said he’d be too busy himself, taking care of something for Dutch. 

So here you were, in the Valentine saloon with the two lovebirds. You knew you should’ve stayed at camp and shared stories with Tilly and Mary-Beth but noooo, Miss Jones just had to bribe you with a free drink and a “I heard a real interestin’ lead the last time we was here!” 

Karen and Sean were off by the piano, singin some tune while you were trying to scout any leads from the drunks by the bar.

You were about to ask the bartender for another drink when one of the locals, breath reeking of alcohol, placed an arm around you. 

"Well hellooooo there, beautiful. I ain't seen you 'round here before." he said, his words slurred and voice a little too loud from where he was. 

You smiled politely as you could back at him, tried to put distance between you two, but his arm felt like lead on your shoulders. "Just passin' through, mister. Here with a few friends." you pointed towards Karen and Sean, who, unfortunately, weren't looking at anyone but themselves. 

And apparently the man with you picked up on it as well. 

He chuckled. "Awww, there there, sweetheart. Seems your friends ain't leavin anytime soon. Why don't I keep ya company instead, hmm?" 

As much as you wanted to slap the man or kick him where it hurts the most, Dutch specifically requested that there be no more rowdy bar fights after all the trouble the gang caused in town already. 

Smile unwavering, you tried to look around for anything or anyone to help you get rid of the local. 

So when you heard the saloon doors swing open and saw Mr. Micah Bell III himself enter, you prayed he was sober and in a good enough mood to help you out. You were always one of the friendlier people towards him in camp, so hopefully that little friendship meant something. 

"Oh, there he is!" You yelled, looking at Micah. This distracted the local enough so he could loosen his hold on you and you slipped out, making your way to the blonde cowboy. 

He looked surprised to see you, even more so when you put your arms around him, leaning your head near his.

You felt him tense up and had a feeling he was going to push you away so you knew you had to say something quickly. "I'll wash your clothes and sew 'em for a week if you please just pretend we're together. Feller by the bar's tryna do more than just buy me a drink." you said by his ear. 

You could sense he was processing what you just told him. But suddenly his arms were around you and he pushed you away just enough to place a kiss on your cheek. 

You look up at him, even more shocked when you see the unmistakable smug grin on his face. 

"I was only gone a few minutes, darlin'. Didn't think you'd miss me that much." he said in a surprisingly sweet voice that didn't sound at all like the tough gunslinger you knew him to be. He placed his arm around you and started walking up to the bar. 

Not missing a beat and thankful that he seemed to be ok with playing along, you wrapped one arm around his waist and placed a hand on his chest. "You know me, just can't get enough of ya."

You both stopped by bar, Micah tipping his hat to the bartender and signalling for two more bottles. 

Unfortunately, the man who was harassing you hadn't left. "She with you, mister?" he asked rather blatantly, turning towards Micah. 

The blonde tightened his grip on you. "That is correct. Ain't I just the luckiest feller?" he actually tapped your nose with a finger. Seems Hosea has some competition in acting.

And you couldn't help but blush when his voice became just a bit huskier at the end there. The poor local didn’t seem to be giving up though. 

“Really now? ‘Cuz the little lady told me she came with just those two.” he said, pointing to Sean and Karen who were giggling about something or other.

Man, they really did have eyes for only each other, especially when they were both drunk.

Micah let go of you and you were quick to shove down the disappointment you felt, no longer in his arms. He was surprisingly warm.

Micah stood in front of you, blocking you from the drunk local. 

“Not that it ain’t any of your business, feller, but I passed by the gun store, left my woman with our two friends over there.” He glanced back at you. “Startin’ to think that was a bad idea.” 

You smiled sheepishly, knowing Micah meant to tell you that it was your fault for not thinking about how drinking with Karen and Sean was going to be anything but good. 

“I’m sorry, love.” You said, and you swore you saw Micah’s cheeks turn red from calling him love. “I leave ‘em for 5 seconds and suddenly they think they’re the only people in the world or somethin’.”

Micah laughed and you felt heat pool in your stomach from the sound. “Quite all right. I know you can handle yourself.” 

The local scoffed. “Actually mister, who knows what woulda happened to the girl if I hadn’t shown up.” the man said rather smugly.

“She woulda finished her damn drink in peace, that’s what.” Micah growled.

And it really did seem like the feller had a death wish because the next thing she knew, he was leaning towards Micah, glaring at him. “We was just about to have a lovely evening if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Micah barked out a laugh, obviously not intimidated by the other guy’s rather poor show of masculinity. “That’s real funny, friend. Cuz I reckon that’s my line, not yours.”

“Listen yo-” 

Before the man could finish talking, you heard Karen Jones squeal, saw Sean Macguire break a bottle on top of some poor feller’s head, and then the whole saloon was in an uproar.

Micah took the opportunity to punch the drunk man square in the jaw. It was no secret he wasn’t the toughest fighter among Dutch’s boys, but his ‘opponent’ was drunk enough that he went down without much of a fight, knocked out from all the alcohol. 

Micah took a swig of his whiskey, placed a few coins on the bar, then grabbed your hand, guiding you around the chaos until you finally got out of the saloon. 

“Well, that ain’t what I had in mind when I got to town, but that was fun.” he laughed, adjusting his hat. 

You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Trust me, weren’t what I expected either.”

You looked down and saw you were still holding hands. You hesitantly let go, remembering how all this craziness started. 

“Thanks, Mr. Bell. I was tryna avoid another bar fight but it seemed Sean had other plans.” 

He smirked. “Well I can’t blame the boy. He only wanted to help his woman. ‘Case ya forgot, I did the exact same thing.”

You grinned, not sure if your cheeks were warm from the alcohol or from his charming words.

Probably both.

“Yes, and as promised, you’ll get clean and sewn clothes for a week, no more waiting for Ms. Grimshaw gives it to one of us girls.” 

Micah chuckled lowly, moving closer to you and you forgot how intimidating he could be. “As lovely as that sounds, miss, I actually had another... reward in mind.”

He leaned towards you and you could feel his breath touch your skin. You unconsciously licked your lips. “And what is it?” you asked, surprised at how small your voice sounded.

He grinned. “Oh, somethin’ we’ll both enjoy, I assure you.” 

You felt his fingers gently tilt your chin up and you didn’t stop him. You closed your eyes and thought you felt the prickle of his moustache on your face-

Before two familiar laughs and the saloon doors swinging open hit your ears. You jumped back and saw Micah do just about the same, only much more subtle, slowly backing away from you and adjusting his hat. 

Sean and Karen all but stumbled out of the bar, the Irishman still holding a bottle in his hand as he kept an arm around his woman.

“Micah you bastard, what the hell you doin’ here then?” Sean said, his accent thicker now that he was drunk.

Micah scoffed. “Savin’ Miss (Y/N) here, I reckon.” he said, tilting his head towards you. “Now I ain’t no stranger to a bit of fun at the saloon either but what do you suppose Dutch’ll think if anythin’ happened to these fine ladies?”

Sean laughed, almost falling over if Karen hadn’t steadied him. “Since when did you care about anyone other than yourself?”

Micah stomped towards the younger man. “Easy there, cowpoke. Don’t think I wo-”

You stepped in front of Micah, placing your hands on his chest. He looked down at you. “It’s fine, Micah. The idiot’s drunk.”

“Hey!” Karen yelled. “He ain’t an idiot.”

Sean leaned his head on her. “Aww Miss Jones you do-”

“He’s my idiot.” She finished. “Now, I don’t fancy headin’ back to camp just yet. Stole enough money from one of the fellers in the saloon to afford a bath and a decent room at the hotel.” Karen faced you. “You gonna be okay gettin’ back yourself? Or I do have some leftover for another room if ya want.”

Sean took one last swig before dropping the bottle on the ground. “Hey, I ain’t drunk enough that I can’t bring Miss (Y/N) back to camp meself.”

“You Irish fool, the room’s fer us!” she yelled.

Sean blinked before going “Oooohhh” and you laughed when you heard Micah mutter  “They’re both morons.”

You smiled at the other woman. “I’ll be fine. Mr. Bell can bring me back.” you looked at the blonde man and saw him shrug. Karen however wasn’t convinced, as she glared at Micah.

“Don’t you try anythin’ now or I’m tellin’ Arthur and kickin' your ass myself.” she said.

Micah waved his hands mockingly. “Oh I’m shakin, Miss Jones.” he brought them back down. “We’ll be fine. Now you two get the hell outta here before Mr. Macguire pukes all over the damn ground.”

Karen told you to take care before guiding a giggling Sean towards the hotel. 

Once they were inside the building, Micah faced you. “The hell were ya thinkin? Hanging around those two drunk idiots?” 

You shrugged. “Hey I was bored, ok? And Karen offered free drinks.” 

Micah huffed.  

Part of you was buzzing to continue what Sean and Karen interrupted between you and Micah. You rarely interacted with the blonde cowboy whenever he was in camp, but you knew you were friendlier towards him than most of the others.

He’s flirted, or tried to flirt with every girl in camp already so you weren't surprised at him trying to kiss you.

But dammit you really wanted him to.

He coughed, more to get your attention than anything else. “So… if you’re done here darlin’, we better get back to camp.” 

You felt yourself blush hearing him call you darlin’ again. You also almost laughed at his complete personality change. First he was a charming and dashing cowboy, next he was growling at Sean and now he looked a little nervous and unsure. It was kind of endearing. 

Feeling like a little girl too afraid to talk to the boy she was sweet on, you actually tucked your hair behind your ear, trying to avoid his gaze. “Actually I… I ain’t exactly lookin’ forward to headin’ back just yet.”

Micah’s expression looked guarded and you weren’t sure what he was thinking. “What did you have in mind?”

You blamed the alcohol for wanting to grab his head and kiss him senseless then and there. 

So you did.

Your lips were on his and you felt him go stiff before relaxing and kissing you back with just as much force, his hands going to either side of your face. You felt the rough texture of his beard and moustache on your skin, tickling you yet he couldn’t get enough of him.

It didn’t take long for Micah to take charge as he bit your lower lip gently, you opened your mouth just a bit but it was enough to allow Micah's tongue entry. You moaned against him and Micah was the first to break the kiss, letting you breathe while he placed some more open mouthed-kisses on your jaw and neck.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while now.” he whispered against you.

You laughed breathlessly. “Reckon Sean and Karen killed the mood earlier. Glad I went for it, anyway.”

“Oh so am I sweetheart, so am I. Weren’t sure when the next opportunity was gonna present itself.”

You smirked as Micah finally stopped kissing you, and looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his. “Who knew all it took was a drunk cowboy to get us together, hmm?”

Micah brushed your hair out of your face and, in the most un-Micah way you’ve seen him be, placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “The man was a pathetic loser but I made sure to give him somethin’ as thanks.”

You looked up at him, brows furrowed. “You did?”

He grinned before he placed his arms around you and guided you towards Baylock. “Yep! Was about to break a bottle on his head, good thing I didn't, he can have the free whiskey as thanks.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

The next morning at camp, John yelled at Sean for the… mess that was left in his tent. Sean tried to defend himself saying “Excuse me sir but Miss Jones and I had a lovely evenin’ at the Saints Hotel back in town.” John wasn’t having it though, unconvinced and already asked Ms. Grimshaw to just burn the sheets while he goes and gets some new ones. 

As Sean grumbled on about how he didn’t do anything for once, Micah approached him, with a shit-eating grin on his face. You were close enough that you could hear what he said. “Awww, don’t be so sour, cowpoke. I reckon you should be more careful, like (Y/N) and I were last night. No one knows a thing.”

Micah walked away, hands on his gun belt and a swagger in his step. You waited about five seconds before-

“MICAH BELL YOU OILY TURD!”

You made a note to yourself that next time maybe make sure John’s tent is immaculately clean afterwards.

Or get a room in town.

[proxnotxaxfool]

It was the usual - helpin' Selena or mama out at the market in Lestallum. Today it was Selena's turn t'go and get the crates o' ingredients for the outpost and Will jumped at the chance to go with her; she was cool an' nice an' kind. Selena even gave him the gil t'pay the tipster; a responsibility the little boy was very proud of. That was 'til the strange feller had handed him a note an' asked him to give it to Reno, but tell nobody else. Will knew how to follow orders, so he did so an' handed the note to his big brother when Selena was gone t'talk to auntie Sarah. "Some feller asked me t'give ya this." The man had brown hair and a metal arm, but those facts barely registered with a little boy excited t'see the hunters in Lestallum who called him 'mini head hunter'. The words were familiar handwriting for Reno though; the penmanship of his godfather. "I want to help you, your father lives, but I cannot get him free. The Emperor has become disillusioned and will damn our country; do not return. The Empire believes you three are alive, and they want all of you back under Aldercapt's thumb ... I want to help." Waitig until the quiet annoyed him, Will kicked his legs against the wooden chair and looked up at his big bro ... "Reno, can'ya ask Uncle Wiz if I can visit the chocobo famr again? I bet I'm big enough to ride one o' the birds this time!"

he'd never thought that a few hours in lestallum, haggling with merchants and chatting shit with tipsters would seem like a mini-holiday, even with an ever-curious little brother in tow, but it was amazing how a little kiddo of your own could change your perspective so much.

ida had offered to babysit her new grandson for a few hours and both reno and selena had jumped at the prospect of seeing outside of meldacio for change. it had taken a bit of tug-of-war between himself and selena to settle on a name, with her opting for galahdan names, and with him unable to choose nifen ones for obvious reasons, they'd eventually settled on one though - jake. a small tribute to a mutual friend of theirs who had died the year before on a hunt, jacobi, and keeping keeping in line with the four-letter tradition of his own family.

chatting away to the tipster about the latest intel he'd received from travelers about a griffon being sighted in the locale, reno was too engrossed in the conversation to hear the rapid-thudding of will's footsteps until the little boy had wrapped his arms around his big brother's waist, using the belt on reno's pants to tug himself higher as he waved a small piece of paper.

a hunting request? a bounty page?

reno made his excuses and pardoned himself from the tipster, who merely nodded his head and hid a grin as the head-hunter's eldest boy had to brace his hand against the wall to save his balance as will continued to swing out of his belt, curiosity making the little boy spy into his big brother's pockets and pouches for any hidden treasure.

i want to help you, your father lives, but i cannot get him free. reno knew that handwriting. after all these years, he still knew it from the first stroke. but that was a fool's move. if the letter was intercepted, then anyone who intercepted it would know who had written it too.

the emperor has become disillusioned and will damn our country; do not return. the empire believes you three are alive, and they want all of you back under aldercapt's thumb ... i want to help.

eyes skimming the rest of the small note, reno felt his blood run cold and his pulse slow - this smelled of a trap. and he wasn't in the best of positions right now, he was in the far back of the market place. folding the letter up and stuffing it in his pocket, reno grabbed a hold of will and hoisted him up into his arm, a forced smile on his face as he looked out over the throng of people in the market.

' — y'know what? how about we go find selena and sarah and head there now, huh? '

' but first, can you point to the person who gave you the note, will? i think i need to double-check somethin' with them. '

no sooner were the words out of reno's mouth, and will had twisted around in his arms, pointing to the man who'd handed him the note with all the subtlety of a garula in a glassware-shop. kids would be kids, and reno hadn't exactly asked his little brother to keep it lowkey.

his eyes met veld's and the older man merely held reno's gaze for a few seconds before disappearing into the crowd. at that, reno made a beeline for the closest egress point from the market place - the one close to the leville. the way he'd come in and the way he was sure veld hadn't exited via. that left the rear exit that led up the steps to the plaza by the power-plant.

taking a few steps out of the market place, the heady scent of spices and grilling meat was still heavy on the air, but there was more room to breath out here. less people. and enough space for him to hike will higher in his arm, eyes watching the moving sea of heads still within the market place, but there were no other familiar faces - or at least, none that were familiar for the wrong reasons.

reno took a shortcut back towards the leville and out through a narrow alley to get back to where the truck was parked at the gas station, where he found selena and sarah laughing and loading the last crate of vegetables into the back of the truck. reno lowered will back to his feet and watched as his little brother bounded across to help sarah shut the tailgate of the truck and reno nodded his head towards the excited little boy when selena bumped his side with her elbow.

' will wants to go see the chocobos at wiz's - you and sarah know the way right? '

but he must have had a face of thunder because selena's smile stilled and she arched a brow in a silent question when she saw the look on reno's face, and for a fleeting moment, he genuinely considered lying to her and making up an excuse, but that small voice of sense in the back of his head reminded him that it wasn't just him involved in this mess anymore- it was all of them.

' someone in the market place gave will a note for me. that person is a turk and i need you guys to go to wiz's so i can make sure the truck isn't being tailed. '

he didn't know what selena said to sarah, whether it was the truth, a lie or something halfway between, but it got will buckled into the back of the truck and the truck moving without any further questions and a promise for him to call her as soon as he could. reno waited until the truck had disappeared from his view before he crossed back over the main road and back into the hustle and bustle of lestallum.

straight up the main thoroughfare of the tourist city, he weaved his way through sight-seers, street performers and workers from exineris. straight past the little medical clinic on the back street, reno headed up to the plaza that led to the power-plant. the day shift had ended an hour ago, with the night shift skeleton-crew taking over. that meant the plaza was empty and the gate onto the walkway across to the power-plant was locked and unmanned, which is exactly how he found the place.

deserted. quiet. calm. no cameras or CCTV up here - the heat from the meteor shards played havoc with the cameras and there had never been a reason to install them. perfect setting for someone who didn't want to be seen.

it's where reno would have chosen if their roles were reversed. and considering who trained him - he was here. and he’d done something he’d always taught reno to do. if you can’t make direct contact, you identify and make contact with the weakest link - which had been will. a double-edged action that not only proved how far their reach was, but also that they weren’t beyond using that weak link as leverage.

slowing to a halt in the middle of the plaza, reno did a full three-sixty of his surroundings. ears straining to pick up any dim echo of a footstep or rustle of clothing. eyes raking across the rooftops, wary of any uneven shadow or glisten of a scope.

' come out and play, old man. '

[cheyningdiamond]

Seen You Once Before...

Oh boy another SherHank fic? Yes. Yes it is. WARNINGS: Death, Gore, Blood, Crying, Topic of giving up on life, This is gonna be a depressing fic sorta so just be weary

It was a cold rainy night in Nevada. Sheriff was about to be executed by the agents for his cowardly acts and being deemed 'obsolete' by the Auditor. Sheriff hung his head, not wanting to look up as the Agent had a gun pointing to the back of his head. They were mocking, laughing at him. "Weeell, poor ol' cowboy here's gonna yee his last haw, ain't that right, fellers!?" One mocking his accent. "Such a shame... He lived as a coward and he'll die as one too~" The other laughed. The third one glared at them both. "Just shoot the fuckin' pussy in the head. I wanna grab a bite to eat soon." Sheriff tightly closed his eyes, staring down at his hat in front of him. His hands were tied behind his back and at this point, he didn't wanna even attempt to escape. All his life was had been nothing but failure. He failed to kill Hank.

He failed trying to protect Nevada. He even failed the Auditor. No matter what he did, who's side he was on, it just led to death, failure, and regret. He snapped out of his deep thoughts as he felt the barrel of the gun poke at the back of his head, touching his greasy light brown hair. "Any last words?" The agent smirked. "...Go fuck yerself." He replied coldly. "Ohoh, finally decided to grow a pair... Little too late for that, cowboy." He cocked the gun, and Sheriff closed his eyes again. They heard a gunshot, followed by an explosion, but it only left Sheriff on the ground with ringing ears. He opened his light brown eyes and witnessed the agent dead behind him. His head had been completely blown off and the gun beside him was on the ground. He looked up, seeing a familiar muscular black-wearing figure pounce on another agent, smashing his head into the wall, leaving red paste stained on the silver metal-like material. The last agent shrieked and tried shooting at Hank but ultimately missed. The agent was backed up by the window and with an easy kick, was sent flying out of the 4 story window, dying upon impact with the cold hard ground below. Sheriff looked up weakly, seeing the fire coming out of the hallway through the room doors. What shined in the fire was the red glasses wearing mercenary, staring down at him. His metal jaw was exposed and his outfit was torn slightly, like he had been through a rougher fight not too long ago. Sheriff knew he must've came to kill him off too, so he closed his eyes. "Just do it quick, Wimbleton... Ah know it's comin'..." He had tears forming in his eyes. He was deathly afraid of Hank. And Hank knew this. He was roughly lifted up by his jacket, but was thrown over the taller figure's shoulder. He blinked and watched Hank as they ran down the hallway, carefully not getting too close to the fires that burned down the facility. Sheriff started to reluctantly squirm. Where were they taking him!? Why won't they just kill him off!? He was waiting! There was nothing else! Sheriff started to yell. "Git off'a me!" He barked, kicking his legs weakly. This earned a very gruff. "Knock it off." From Hank. The metallic jaw had given him more of a echo-like and steel-grindy voice. Sheriff kept kicking as they reached the exit. He had to witness Hank shooting and killing every guard that got in his way from the room he found Clayton in, to now. They were finally outside in the pouring rain and Hank rushed to the van. They were pretty much in the clear now and Hank opened the trunk of the van, setting Sheriff in. Without hesitation, Sheriff kicked him in the knee, making him stumble back. He regained his posture and angrily grabbed the smaller man by his jaw, pinning him down to the trunk floor. "Now dammit, stop!" Hank snarled. Sheriff had tears in his eyes, but he was pissed. "Wh-Why th' Hell didn' you let me die back there!? They were doin' you a damn favor!" He hiccuped as he glared up at the Wimbleton, who stared coldly back with his red, blood-colored glasses. There was definitely blood stained on them. "Just. Stop. Squirming..." Hank growled. He forced Sheriff to sit up and pulled out a knife. Sheriff breathed sharply, thinking it was going into him as he closed his eyes. 'Finally, just end it. Please.' He thought. Hank pressed his body up against the Sheriff and began cutting the ropes that restrained his wrists. Sheriff just gave up. Obviously his time wasn't coming today. "Why're you helpin' me!? Last time ah checked, you wanted me dead!" "Well, things change, don't they?" He got off of him, removing his knee off of the truck and took Sheriff's hands, pulling him out of the trunk. "Come on. We're leaving." "A-Ah ain't goin' nowhere with you..." "You don't have a say in this. Now get in." Hank opened the passenger side of the van. Sheriff backed away, holding his shoulders. "A-Ah said no..." "Clayton-" Hank grabbed his arm, now furious. Sheriff snapped. "A-Ah said NO!!" Out of anger, he slapped Hank hard across the face. His glasses had fallen

onto the ground

and even broke from the sheer impact of the slap. Sheriff looked at Hank, then at his hand. Holy fuck. Did he just slap Hank fucking Wimbleton?? Ohh no. Hank held the side of his face and his ear rung from the impact and glared at Sheriff. Sheriff's eyes got big. Slapping Hank wasn't the only thing that shook him to his core... He stared deeply into his eyes. Those different colored eyes. She flashed in his memory. The train. Sheriff stared and started to shake. More tears fell from his face, his mouth was slightly agape as he started to say the name. That name. Hank glared and put his hand over Sheriff's mouth before he could even utter it. "...We're going. Now." Hank grabbed Clayton and shoved him into the seat and shutting the door. He walked over and got in the driver's seat, slamming his door. Clayton could tell he was frustrated now. This sent fear chilling up his body. No fucking way. Hank was once... A friend of his? Someone he got along well with!? He couldn't even believe, or even imagine Hank and him being friends. Or even sharing a laugh over something... Sheriff felt his stomach pit from the overwhelming stress. Both from earlier and now becoming too much. Hank silently drove away from the burnt down building, looking at it through his rearview mirror. Sheriff wanted to speak. He was pissed. He was afraid. He was confused. Why was- How did- Who- He couldn't even form questions in his head right now. Hank stared at the road as he drove. Only thing that could be heard was their gruff and heavy breathing. Sheriff stared into Hank's eyes as he drove. At this point, he decided to just figure out what was going on now. "...Wh-Where're ya takin' me...?" Hank ignored him as he drove. "...N-Now dammit, answer me!" He snapped, his voice shaking and cracked. This made Hank talk. "I'm taking you to our facility. You're still beat up and you clearly need a place to stay now, yeah?" He glared at him. "S-Since when did you even care...?" "..." "Why are you helpin' me!? What good have ah ever been to you fer you to help me!?" "Oh fucking Christ, can't you just be thankful!?" Hank suddenly yelled, feeling his temper get the best of him. "No! Yer a damn menace! A blight! All you want is people dead so long as it fills yer sick desires!" "I kill who I must. And in about 3 seconds if you don't shut your damn mouth, I'll add another on my list..." "Do it!!" Clayton screamed. "Ah ain't got nothin' anymore!" The cowboy started to come down into choked sobs as he yelled. "Ah failed my people, ah failed Nevada, ah even failed workin' for the Auditor because ah was too weak!" He glared at Hank. "So just fuckin' do it already! What's been stoppin' ya!?" There was a screech as Hank slammed his foot on the brake, roughly pressing Sheriff against the dashboard from the jolt. "Urgh-!" He grunted as he put his hands in front of himself to stop himself from smashing his face with the dashboard. Hank closed his eyes and started taking deep breaths. Was he, trying to calm down? That was rare... As far as Clayton knew the only stress reliever Hank knew what to do was kill kill kill. Hank slowly opened his eyes after a minute passed, staring at the dusty road they were on. With a low growl, he finally spoke. "...I don't know." Sheriff looked at him. "As far as I'm concerned, I should've had you dead ages ago... …But, I never did. I could've easily killed you back there before Jeb stabbed me dead. Every little attempt I just let you go. Is it pity? Do I feel bad for you? Fuck if I know." Clayton stared at Hank. "...What happened to you?" He spoke. "You were gonna be a mother. You had a calm life. You had a normal life as a normal person, man or woman, no matter! Why th' hell would you go and create all this chaos!?" Hank stared down, looking away from him. "I wasn't exactly fully innocent when you first met me, Clay..." Clayton stared. "H-Huh-?" "I had already killed a man. A man who was nothing but a drunk. A man who I unfortunately had fallen for." He started up the car as he

finished talking. "That was just my luck. But don't ever go and tell me I was innocent before. I never was. Never will be." He kept driving as Sheriff stared. "Yer, husband... Ya killed him?? That's why he was deceased when we spoke?" "...It was more self defense. He was gonna kill me and my son. I couldn't let him. So, I just..." Hank shook his head. Of everyone he killed, that was the last kill he ever wanted to talk about, let alone think it. "I don't wanna talk about it. Will you shut up and just let me take you back to get patched?" Sheriff sighed and nodded slowly. Fuck, he felt horrible now. Never would he thought they would've killed a soul back then. It was a silent 15 minute drive. The radio station played music but it was static and cut off every now and again. Clayton finally had the courage to speak up. To apologize. "...A-Ah'm sorry, Hank..." Clayton looked down. "For what?" "F-Fer everythin'... This whole war, what you went through... Er, givin' ya the big one eariler..." He looked at his hand, which still ached. Slapping teeth and metal really didn't tickle on the hand. Hank sighed. "It's, whatever. It's over now so no need to dwell on it." Clayton sighed. "Just- why? Why cause all this unnecessary violence? Why create this madness?" Hank kept his eyes on the road, but had a grim look. "...I can't exactly say... I never intended for this to be a full war." Sheriff shook his head. Everything was peaceful back then. Everyone played music, they all had a good time, just, living. Now look at it. The once gray-blue skies now black and red. Hank finally stopped the van once they were out at the hideout doors. He got out and opened the Sheriff's door. "Out. No more struggling..." Clayton nodded slowly and stepped out. With a hand on Clayton's shoulder, Hank led him inside... What was gonna happen? Was this where he was going to live...? Sheriff took a deep breath and just decided to wait and see...

[katesmemes]

feel free to change any pronouns, etc. || may contain some nsfw!

“You’re the only one I can rely on to stay strong right now.”

“We got fire and shelter-- that’s a start.”

“I never thought I’d be so pleased to see your face.”

“Knew a feller-- got bit by a dog; died an hour later.”

“Thanks for coming for me.”

“Y’know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar.”

“So, freezing, bleeding, starving, damn near getting eaten to death, ain’t good enough for you?”

“You always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford.”

“You know I got your back.”

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re always one with the jokes, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t want anymore people to die.”

“Sounds like he has more than enough to share.”

“Get to work, but stay out of trouble.”

“I’ve seen shit with more common sense than you!”

“You’re my favorite parasite. No...ringworm’s my favorite parasite-- you’re my second favorite parasite. I lied... Ringworm, then rats with the plague, then you.”

“I’ve got an unfortunate face.”

“You won the fight already-- surely that’s enough?”

"I could do with a break from this place.”

“I fear you don’t know how to help anyone excepting yourself.”

“Only the feeblest of men take jobs in the government.”

“Please send him my worst regards.”

“[Name] wouldn’t know sadness if it died in is bed.”

“It’s about time that you started to earn you keep.”

“Why do you have to speak so much? It’s...incessant.”

“Looks like I’ve turned into the goddamn errand boy.”

“You ain’t as tough and dense as all that.”

“That’s not how you are.”

“Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“How did someone even come up with them words?”

“I ain’t chopping vegetables for a living.”

“I’m sorry, [Name], was there insufficient feathers in your pillow?”

“I ain’t afraid of dying.”

“I ain’t here to rob you, though that seems easy enough.”

“Think of it as payback for [Name].”

“I ain’t in the revenge business, [Name].”

“I swear he talked the whole way and never actually said a damn thing.”

“He somehow manages to be both lucky and unlucky at the same time.”

“You should’ve taken the money.”

“You know me; I like to make friends in low places.”

“You mess up-- it’s just one of them things; I mess up-- I’m the prize idiot.”

“You are a man of profoundly limited intelligence.”

“Well, of course, it’s probably a trap...but what’ve we got to lose finding out?”

“Okay, just keep calm until I give you a reason not to.”

“Oh, my dear and trusted friend, with you watching over, I would walk into hell itself.”

“I dream too big; I care too much-- that’s my problem.”

“All you do is complain when things don’t work out-- except when it’s your goddamn fault.”

“If you ain’t gonna be civilized about this...”

“I don’t expect you to understand this, but I have never been more proud of you than I am right now.”

“This place ain’t no such thing as civilized-- It’s man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites.”

“He makes my skin crawl... Some swarthy cocksucker... You know what I mean, friend?”

“If you’re a girl without means in this world, life is very scary...”

“She didn’t love enough, I guess... Or I wouldn’t change.”

“In these books, life seems so simple, but, in reality, I... I can’t make head nor tail of it.”

“Oh, I see that kindly face of yours and I know, for the right inducements, a gentleman such as yourself could be mighty kind.”

“Oh now, you keep saying that, but you don’t mean nothing by it.”

“She is driven by forces I scarcely understand...”

“That’s what love has done to her, I guess.”

“We each got....fifteen dollars. Oh, and a quarter... Don’t forget the quarter.”

“If there’s a problem, it’s for me.”

“I thought you wasn’t getting involved.”

“We are gonna be harvesting mangoes in Tahiti.”

“You better be right about this one...”

“Have some goddamn faith.”

“I am bending over backwards to make a future for us!”

“There simply isn’t a reality in which we do nothing, and get everything.”

“I think he’ll be okay-- if he don’t get a fever.”

“Well, he definitely lacks a certain charm.”

“Don’t you ever leave love aside, [Name], it’s all we got.”

“I possess things you will never understand.”

“Every plan is a good plan if we execute it properly.”

“I’m just trying to stay real about all this.”

“That is one of the most beautiful acts I ever saw.”

“An insect bit you or something? ‘Cause you gone, friend.”

“I will do whatever it takes for us to survive.”

“I still ain’t sure what you’re saying, [Name].”

“This feller is really beginning to try my patience.”

“Nobody knows who you are-- not even your goddamn father.”

“We’ll find each other eventually. We always do.”

“My fair heart jumps for joy when I set eyes on you, [Name].”

“You can see why he has such a high opinion of himself.”

“I’ll wipe that goddamn smirk clean off your face.”

“You could’ve cleaned yourself up a bit.”

“I didn’t realize I was here to impress anyone.”

“Strangeness, I can handle-- It’s the normal business of life I can’t seem to get a grip on.”

“You’re an idiot, but you’ll always be my friend.”

“Well, of course I’m your friend, but...you ain’t always fair with me.”

“If I was fair with you and a good person, I’d have had you hanged a long time ago.”

“So, shut up, and act like a gentleman... or at least try to for once in your brainless life.”

“It’s sort of beautiful, in a gaudy, and tasteless way...”

“Quite ridiculous, but somehow very amusing.”

“You can see why folks don’t wanna come around here-- Ain’t exactly a welcoming place.”

“I don’t owe you nothing!”

“I loved you, you goddamn bastard!”

"She knew the rules, [Name]-- What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I wanted to shoot her?!”

“I don’t know anymore... I’m not sure if I even care.”

“Well, the best thing is rest and getting somewhere warm and dry, and taking it easy.”

“We can’t change what’s done; we can only move on.”

“He didn’t have a choice, He was good and he did good.”

“I understand if you don’t wanna help me, but... but... I think of you often.”

“He’s quite the character; I think you’ll like him.”

“Y’know... I’m impressed. You’ve really stepped things up, ain’t you?”

“Hey, we didn’t know if you was even coming back.”

“You have a real habit of stating the obvious, [Name].”

“What the hell is wrong with you? I only left you an hour ago. You can’t stay out of trouble for one goddamn hour?”

“You got that poor bastard killed for his troubles-- I kind of liked him!”

“Insist all you like; ain’t happening!”

“Well, I ain’t the crying sort, but, I’m real grateful!”

“This better not be no stupid revenge mission, [Name].”

“It’s just a simple social call.”

“So, what are we gonna say to him, that needs to be said?”

“This ain’t making a lot of sense, [Name].”

“Business doesn’t give two figs about feelings, sir. Not two figs.”

“Your impudence will be our undoing, sir.”

“Don’t play dumb and superior at the same time, [Name].”

“Feels like the whole world’s closing in on us.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“I think it’s a real bad idea.”

“See, I’m starting to think that you’ve gone soft, [Name].”

“So I was thinking, you go play dead, and I’ll take care of ‘em.”

“You play dead and I’ll cover you.”

“Nice shooting back there!”

“I could use a drink after that.”

“Listen... I know we ain’t always seen eye to eye, and...you find me irritating and a threat...and I like to annoy you...but right now I need better from you, [Name].”

“I ain’t the bad guy you think I am, [Name].”

“There’s a big picture here, [Name].”

“I feel like you should take your woman and child and get lost.”

“it’s that or...well, I don’t see no way outta this.”

“When the time comes, you gotta run and don’t look back.”

“That just ain’t how I wanna die.”

“You rally think that’ll draw attention away from us?”

“Y’know, all that ever mattered to me was loyalty. It was all I knew-- It was all I ever believed in.”

“I’m seeing things a lot more clearly now.”

“I wish things were different... But it weren’t us who changed.”

“You don’t seem yourself somehow...”

“Surely this can be done without killing anyone?”

“We shoot fellers as need shooting, we save fellers as need saving, feed them as need feeding.”

“It’s been quite a while since we helped anyone, but ourselves, and even you know that.”

“I have a plan, you just have to trust me.”

“This is exactly the distraction we need.”

“Hey. Hey-- you know I wasn’t gonna let it come to that.”

“I guess I don’t know what I know no more.”

“May God, in his infinite wisdom, have mercy upon your soul.”

“My whole life, I have tried to fight change.”

“Y’know, you and me... We’re more ghosts than people.”

“I miss him every day... every moment.”

“They turned me into a monster.”

“You’re the best man I’ve known.”

“I think I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Sometimes the correct path, the bravest path...is the least obvious, and also the gentlest.”

“My whole life I have tried to bring peace.”

We can talk if you want to, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I should not have let you do this for me.”

“I hope you can find peace within yourself.”

“He’s a man who, not so long ago, I would have found weak and pathetic. Now I see as wise and thoughtful, and sensible.”

“We must act with due caution.”

“A failed man is often the most dangerous.”

“Hey, show some goddamn respect!”

“You’ll know when I ain’t showing respect.”

“I had a plan... I still have a plan!”

“I am tired of this constant dissent, long tired of it.”

“I’m gonna try and save him.”

“You’re quite the hero, ain’t you?”

“Come on... Don’t doubt me no more.”

“You saved my life more than once... To give mine for yours...it’s as it should be.”

“Everything is coming together exactly as I planned.”

“I’m afraid I have to insist.”

“Of course, pal... Whatever you think is best.”

“He insists upon it... Insists...”

“Don’t talk to me you son of a bitch.”

“Do it my way, honey. It’s for the best.”

“I’m gonna get you outta this bullshit if it’s the last goddamn thing I do.”

“It would mean a lot to me... Please...”

“You don’t know how much I’ve longed to do this.”

“All there is-- winning...and losing...”

“In the end, despite my best efforts to the contrary, it turns out I’ve won.”

“I gave you all I had... I did.”

“I tried in the end... I did.”

“I ain’t too proud to do nothing.”

“I love you. Don’t you forget that-- not ever now.”

“You stop acting like a goddamn storybook hero, will you?”

“I guess I was dreaming a little. At least give me that.”

“I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“I thought you was dead.”

“You know, speaking in monosyllables don’t make you seem interesting, it makes you seem stupid.”

“I never thought she was a smart woman, but this makes me think maybe I was wrong.”

“No, you’re stuck with me; seems I’m stuck with you.”

“Let’s just hope things don’t turn out like last time.”

“Now, you used to be decent company, but now, you’re worse than a snake with a toothache.”

“Get some self-respect you miserable sack of shit.”

“I just need a bit of peace and quiet from your incessant yapping.”

“That’s kind-- unlikely to be taken up, but kind.”

“You always did have that fine way with words.”

“Do you wish I was more like you?”

“There’s a lot of ugly in this world, but there sure as hell is a lot of beauty.”

“Ain’t you just the leading authority on everything?”

“Sometimes, you just don’t know how things are gonna turn out.”

“I think I’m gonna ask her to, uh, marry me.”

“I never took you for a romantic.”

“It’s been ages since we spent any time together.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you ain’t that much to look at.”

“Why you being so courteous?”

“You’re acting kinda...funny.”

“You know, you’re not very nice to me.”

“Oh, I’m nicer than you deserve.”

“What’re you doing with that arm?”

“I thought you might be cold.”

“You’re acting real strange...”

“Will you marry me?”

“Shut up, you silly man, and kiss me!”

“You’re bleeding pretty bad.”

“I don’t like it...I love it. It’s home.”