#so it’d be p hard to pull off in a historical setting

[deci-doodles]

Imma be a little nitpicky but it’s way too American to me as an Aussie lmao

The notion of the American Dream and how in a dream world literally anything is possible, it being inspired by the jazz age and its hedonism, the Family comprising of five families (like how New York’s mafia became known as the Five Families), and also the mega church vibes (not exclusively American but the American ones are famous) and the consumerism

Also Penacony sounds like Coney Island too ngl

Ok, Penacony really is space Australia. A former colony/prison and all the dream shenanigans. I guess if Square Enix aren't giving me an Australian expansion then Hoyo will.

Aventurine is nothing like Childe (even fanon version). Phew.

WHALES

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 21)

Alone At Last

Whew! Okay, this is a pretty long chapter and guys... it’s time for some lewds. Yeah, so this chapter is explicit, fair warning! Also, it shows off some research into horseshoeing that I have no idea if is historically accurate but I tried my best. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! This is another chapter I am particularly nervous about posting, haha! :P 

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

The three of us carried on our journey back as soon as we woke, right after some coffee and some canned strawberries passed around between us. I gave Rayna a generous brush down and some celery, thanking her for her service over the previous days, before we left. We took our time heading back, an unspoken agreement between us all that we were happy to dawdle, just a little, to give ourselves some time away. We only really started speeding up when we spotted clouds rolling in overhead about halfway back. None of us particularly enjoyed being soaked through in the rain.

Alas, we knew it was coming when the first spots began to fall. I cursed under my breath, praying that it was just going to spit for a while before miraculously clearing up. It didn't, of course, and it soon came down full force, soaking my shirt and dampening Rayna's coat. The three of us galloped against the pelt of the storm, thunder rumbling overhead. The weather was being so loud I very nearly missed the clanking sound, rhythmic, matching Rayna's hoof beats. I frowned, head dipping towards the source of the sound, below me, and with a groan of despair I very quickly realised what it was. 

"Hold on a second, fellers!" I called out, slowing Rayna down and noting a sudden change in her gait, something close to a limp. I swung down from the saddle as the men stopped too, watching me with matching frowns. 

A check of her hooves confirmed it; her front right shoe was loose, far too loose for me to feel comfortable riding on it. I sighed and pressed my head into Rayna's shoulder. It never rains, but it pours, I thought.

"It's the damn shoe," I informed the others, dragging my hand over my face as I straightened up. 

"We can take it slower, if that helps," Charles said, wincing not-so-hopefully. 

"Ideally it needs to come off, it's real wobbly."

"Easily done. I've got some kit in my saddlebags, I've had this happen one too many times, now I jus' carry the stuff wherever I go," Arthur hopped down from Jet and approached, carefully lifting Rayna's foot to take a look himself. "Yeah, that'll need to come off. Charles, why don't you carry on? No sense in all of us staying out here in the pouring rain."

"You sure? I don't mind staying to help," he replied. Arthur shook his head. 

"We can handle this, you get on. You can tell the others what happened if we make it back late," he said, waving his hand at Charles to encourage him to get moving. 

"Of course. Take care of yourselves, maybe find some shelter in those trees," Charles pointed towards a turn off in the road nearby, heading into a dense patch of trees. 

"Will do," Arthur nodded. The three of us said our goodbyes, and Charles carried on down the trail. 

I came around to Rayna's front, taking hold of her reins, and Arthur did the same with Jet. We led our horses down the offshoot of trodden ground that led into the trees. The path was dryer under the cover of the thick branches up above and with my vision clear from falling rain I realised it wasn't just a trail through the woods. It was a path up to someone's property; there was a small cabin at the end of the trail, it looked old and overgrown with plant life embedding itself into the walls, crawling up to the roof. 

"Look," I pointed to it, grabbing Arthur's attention. "Reckon somebody's home?"

"I don't know, I'll go over there and check it out. Looks like there's a little awning 'round the side that'll keep the horses dry while we sort this," he said, then jogged up the path towards the building. 

I watched him from a distance, seeing him round the property and peek in through the windows. He disappeared around the back and he was gone for a short while, but eventually came jogging back. 

"Place looks abandoned, nobody in there, no food or supplies or nothin'. Looks like it ain't been touched in years," he told me. It was a no-brainer, then. 

We headed up the path with our horses, leading them to the outcrop of weathered wood that served as a fairly decent cover for them, besides a few leaky spots. I got Rayna settled, hitching her up to one of the posts holding up the roof and giving her mane a brush through with my fingers. I removed her saddle and the bearskin to make her more comfortable, and carried them around the back of the small cabin to where Arthur had managed to get in through a door that looked to have been broken into long ago. 

I put the saddle and bearskin down by the door once I was inside and looked around the place, plucking my hat off and shaking my damp hair out. Cobwebs hung from every corner of the room and there was a generous layer of dust on just about everything. It was a one-room set up, with a little kitchenette immediately on my right as I walked in, a dining table just in front, and a bed up against the back left corner. I didn't stay long, heading back out to join Arthur; he was retrieving a rasp and shoe pull-off from his saddlebags. 

"You want me to do it?" He asked. 

"You've done it before," I said, nodding. "I only ever had it done by the farrier."

"Alright. It'll take a bit, but we can do it here. You keep her calm, alright?" Arthur put the pull-off down on the wooden boards that made up the floor below us, keeping hold of the rasp as I came around to Rayna's side, petting her. 

Arthur picked up her foot, bracing it between his knees as he started filing down the clinches, long strokes taking them down little by little. I watched him as he worked, the bulk of his shoulders moving with such strength and… grace, oddly enough. I made sure to keep Rayna happy, feeding her a sugar cube. She was a good girl, anyway, didn't need much to keep her calm. 

"Don't you worry, girl. We'll get this thing off'a you soon enough," Arthur said, speaking to Rayna in a buttery tone that made me smile. Arthur Morgan, the terrifying outlaw.

It took a while for Arthur to remove the clinches, and he'd worked up quite the sweat doing it. He took the opportunity to remove his leather jacket – handing it to me – between readjusting Rayna's foot, turning so he could trap it between his thighs and face the bottom of it. He used the pull-off to prise the shoe from her foot, tugging on one side and then the other, evenly, until the nails loosened up and could be removed completely. I kept a close eye on what he was doing, just in case a situation such as this ever arose again and I had to do it myself. 

He finally got the shoe free, brushed away the dirt from Rayna's foot and checked for any unnoticed injuries. He seemed satisfied, giving her her leg back. She wouldn't like having one shoe missing, but it was safer and would have to do until I could bring her to the nearest stables to get a new set put on. Arthur put away his tools then swapped me his jacket for the shoe. He gave Rayna a nice rub on the neck.

"Good girl. That weren't too bad, was it?" He said to her.

"Thank you, sorry for making you do that. It looks hard work," I told him and he waved a hand dismissively.

"No problem. How 'bout we get out of the rain for a while, sit inside?" He suggested and I didn't hesitate to agree. 

I gave Rayna a parting pat on the neck before heading inside, Arthur soon joined me, hanging his jacket from the back of the single remaining dining chair. There was a second chair, but it was laying on its side with one of the legs missing. The place was dark with only two small windows letting in what minimal light was escaping through the thick clouds, but Arthur found a lantern hanging from the wall and lit it with a match he struck against the bottom of his boot. 

"There, that's a little better," he said softly to himself as he put the glass back in place around the flame and the light spread across the room, casting everything in orange. He glanced around, eyes settling on the bed pushed into the corner. He crossed over to it, smacking his hand against the bare mattress, kicking up dust and brushing it away until he was satisfied enough to sit down. He removed his hat and hung it off the bed post. I took the seat at the table, leaving the horseshoe there and plucking my blouse away from my skin and shaking it a little in a vain attempt at drying it off. It clung to me all over, soaked through.

We sat there for a while wordlessly, the rain battering the roof to supply a constant shhhh sound to fill in the silence. Arthur was sitting forwards, elbows on his knees as he kept his eyes on the ground, and I was sitting with my hands clasped together on the table in front of me, once I'd blown away some of the dust. To say the atmosphere was awkward would be wrong, but not far off. It was more like, overly polite. Neither of us wanted to address the fact that here we were; alone, which was exactly what we'd said we wanted just the other night. It'd been so easy to admit to longing for that, wrapped up in each other in a situation where it was impossible. But now that we actually had our wish, it seemed that neither of us knew what to do, what lines were in place and which we could cross. 

I let my eyes wander over to him, about the same time Arthur decided to do the same. Our eyes met for a series of tense moments and eventually a laugh bubbled from my lips, making him smile. 

"What?" He asked. I shook my head. Abigail crossed my mind, along with a few choice words about making the first move, spoken in her voice. 

I cleared my throat and rose to my feet. Arthur watched me unashamedly as I crossed the room to him, stopping just shy of the bed. He held his hands out to me and I took them in mine, letting him tug me over the rest of the way; I eventually planted myself down on the bed next to him. His eyes scanned me, paying particular attention to my torso; noticing the way my sodden blouse stuck to me and appeared see-through, showing my underthings. I relinquished a corset and chemise when I dressed in trousers for active work, saving the unnecessary layers for the days I wore more ladylike attire; and so I was left with my corset cover acting as a camisole to give me some semblance of decency under my blouse. 

Arthur averted his eyes after a moment of staring, his mouth opening but not saying anything. I wanted him to kiss me just like he'd been meaning to the other night in his tent, and to not hold back his exploration of his big, gentle hands. Gosh, I ached for him. 

"The rain doesn't sound like it's letting up," I commented timidly, eyes focused on the third button of his off-white shirt because it was easier than looking at his face just then. "Would be a shame to just… just sit here in silence, waiting it out."

"You wanna talk?" He asked, his question uttered in such a way that told me he wasn't actually asking if I wanted to talk, but rather, he was looking for confirmation of me wanting something else. 

"I think it'd be nice if you kissed me right about now," I whispered, lifting one shoulder in a meek shrug. Arthur let out a series of breaths that resembled a laugh, then he reached for my cheek, tilting my head up, moving in to connect our lips in a smooth motion with no trace of hesitation. 

His kisses were playful, teasing, moulding into me for just a second too short before he pulled back for a breath, then going in all over again. Between kisses, he whispered; "that's what I was hoping to hear," turning my stomach into a ball of writhing snakes, tickling me from the inside out, making me giggle against his mouth. 

I grabbed hold of his suspenders like I so often did, using them to anchor him to me as he pressed his tongue to my bottom lip; this time I was ready for him and I opened up, welcoming a deeper exchange. I made a little sound as his tongue met mine; careful in nature but certainly not timid. I could taste him better this way, and I didn't know the words to describe it. Certainly not bad, pretty neutral as far as flavours go, but the fact that it was him I was tasting riled me up and made me moan aloud, far more vulgarly than I ever had before. It made Arthur break away, get a look at my eyes. 

"Come– come here," he murmured, taking my hand in his and pulling me towards him, turning me. I cottoned on to what he was wanting and another involuntary sound left me when I allowed him to guide me onto his lap, my legs kneeling either side of his on the mattress, my butt against his thighs, so close. So intimate!

Arthur's arms circled around my waist, pulling our torsos flush together as he resumed the work of his lips and tongue, playing with me in a way that made my body fizz and light up like I'd been struck with electricity. My hips edged forwards, tilting, aching to rock, to invade his space, I held myself together and tightened my grip on his suspenders, trying my damnedest to resist. It was difficult, though, my baser instincts driving me, especially when Arthur's hand slipped lower, settling on my backside to support me between his knees when he parted them wider. I rocked against him, a gasp catching in my throat as a groan escaped his. The kiss stopped abruptly and I was quick to stammer out an apology.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" 

His lips where at my jaw instantly, spreading his affection like raindrops across my skin. 

"Don't apologise," his words were difficult to decipher with his mouth pressed up against me. I had a few moments of clarity, my eyes opened against the orange of the room, the aged wood behind Arthur, the smell of damp, the sound of heavy breathing from the both of us suddenly so loud in my ears. The space between my legs throbbing damn near painfully. It hit me full force what was happening, the fact that it was unnervingly real. Before I knew what I was doing I had my hands on his shoulders and I was shoving at him. 

I didn't have to shove hard, at the first sign of disapproval Arthur let me go and held his hands up, leaning back, but the look in his eye was one of hurt. No matter how quickly he attempted to hide it. My jaw was slack when I looked at him, jerking my hands away from him in instant regret. 

"No, I didn't mean that. I don't know why I did that, Arthur, I'm–"

"Forgive me, I took things too far," he shook his head. 

"No, you didn't. I want this, I do, I just– it was all too much, all good, I didn't know how to handle it, I didn't want you to stop," my face burned red and I hated myself. Arthur was closing down, his jaw tense, brow firm and serious.

"You don't have to say all that, I won't be upset if you don't want this, last thing I want is to put pressure on you. I've been selfish, princess, I'm a man and I– hell, that's no excuse," he shook his head, frowning deeper. 

"Arthur," I breathed, cupping his cheek and making him look at me. "I've never felt all this, it's so intense, but it's good! I just– I think I got overwhelmed. I don't think I can do everything just yet, do you see what I'm saying?"

"I understand, and I don't expect you to. Not one bit. Don't think I feel you owe me anything," he explained, finally letting his hands come near me again, one settling on the small of my back, the other stroking the hair at the back of my head.

"No, I just wanted to say that in case… in case I let things go so far, and then want things to stop, you won't think I'm leading you on, being unkind," I let my eyes drop as my forehead pressed against his. 

"I won't ever think that," he whispered so sincerely, so kindly. 

"I'm so sorry I ruined it," I squeaked, feeling emotion bubble up in my throat. Crap. I couldn't cry on top of everything else.

"Shh, angel, you've done no such thing," he told me, pulling me into his chest for a hug. I leaned my head on his shoulder and pressed my face into his neck, squeezing closer. I felt him between my legs, a little hard from our kiss and it reignited the warmth low down in my core. Letting my fingers walk their way down his sides I took a moment to consider my words.

"I don't want to stop. I don't want to go too far, but I want to make you feel… nice," I felt so silly saying it like that. "I don't want to leave you like this," I added, making a point to roll my hips once more, feeling him go rigid. 

"Keep doing that, and you won't have to," he uttered, strained, fingers curling in the wet fabric of my blouse. 

"Yeah?" I whispered, doing it again. He hummed something pleasant and tightened his arms around me, using them to lift me, adjusting me a little bit so when I did it again he released a strangled little sound, badly suppressed. "Is that good?" I asked, feeling him nod firmly. 

I leaned back so I could look at him, he avoided my eyes, tilting his head down and hiding his face from me. I ground against him, feeling his erection between my legs, I focused my movements to rub up and down the length of it, rolling forwards and hearing the scratch of my jeans against his. I let out a loud breath and cupped his face, tilting his head up and having him look me in the eye. His expression was strained, almost a little guilty. I tried to kiss away any worries he had. 

"I like this," I exhaled, letting my eyes close for a moment. 

"You do?" He almost sounded surprised. My hips found a good rhythm, one that felt natural and came easy to me. Arthur's expression had loosened by the time I opened my eyes again, his lips were parted and his eyes were a little glazed, puffs of audible breath came from his mouth and were speeding up the more I moved. 

I nodded quickly. "Hold me, move me how you need to," I whispered to him and a thick, whine of a moan left him at that, eyes fluttering before coming back to focus on me. His hands found my hips and helped to guide me against him. He sped me up a little, his huffs coming louder, panting as if he was exerting himself. He whispered my name and I released something that sounded like a sob, immediately embarrassed by it.

"Does… does this feel good for you, too?" He asked me almost shyly, his voice sounding so deep and aroused it made my insides flutter. My drawers felt damp and the friction our movement caused felt lovely.

"Yes," I said, and it came out like a breath. He dipped his head below my chin, kissing my neck. His nose brushed against me seeking out my ticklish spots so he could avoid them with his mouth, focusing only on the nice spots. His hands on my hips tightened and moved me more fervidly, grunting as he did. Keeping his face buried against my neck he spoke again. 

"I wanna ask you something," he groaned, soon adding; "personal."

"Ask me."

"Do you– have you ever touched yourself?" He blurted out, his breath stopping, hands stopping too. I kept moving my hips, not wanting everything to cease. "Slap me, that was rude."

"I have," I told him, ignoring his concerns. Everything started up again like clockwork and Arthur whined, lifting his head to look at me. 

"You ever made yourself…" he trailed off, seemingly hung up on sounding proper. But this was hardly the time nor place. 

"Many, many times," I whispered, lips curling. 

"I wanna make you–” a groan cut through his words when I grabbed onto his shoulders for support and picked up the pace significantly. I almost regretted it, not getting to hear the rest of his sentence. Though, what he'd said worked on its own, too, given the context.

"Arthur," I crooned, feeling everything so slick against my core, his cock hard in his pants, insistent and throbbing, everything was incredible. 

"God, I'm gonna– little more of this–" he stammered, face reddening. 

"Say it," I sighed. 

"I'm gonna cum," he told me. 

I clenched around nothing at the utterance, so intensely aroused by the thought of him being stimulated enough to climax from this; I'd never felt anything like it. Suddenly I was spurred by it, the need to make him do it, to bring him pleasure. I reached for the buttons of my sodden blouse, popping open the first few before lifting the thing over my head and dropping it on the bed. 

The sound Arthur released was damn near broken, cracked in the middle and tapered off with a breathy laugh. 

"You're the first to see me like this," I whispered to him, watching his face morph into something affectionate and sweet, behind the hunger. My hips had faltered a little in my distraction but it mattered not, especially when I pulled my camisole up and overhead, exposing my breasts to him. 

His mouth worked around words that didn't come out as his wide eyes feasted on them. One hand instinctively slid up my side and closed around my left breast. I gasped at the sensation of being touched there for the first time, someone else's hands on my body, so new and thrilling I found myself arching into it. His thumb passed over a hardened nipple, stimulating me more than touching myself there ever had.

"Fuck," Arthur grunted, a guttural sound being thrown forth as he hunched jerkily, forehead coming into contact with my bare shoulder, knees raising a little. It was like he was curling in on himself, everything going rigid and tight including the hands on my body. He was panting loudly and heavily, it was all very intense. With my inexperience I had no way of being sure of what was happening until both hands returned to my hips and he halted me, a shudder running through him.

Everything was still for a few moments as Arthur slid his hand away from my breast, caught his breath, and my brain caught up with me. It occurred to me that he'd just orgasmed, and I'd had a hand in it. My core clenched and throbbed and I let out a shaky breath, every nerve in my body alive and zinging. When Arthur lifted his head he looked a touch embarrassed, his eyes not knowing where to settle; my breasts? My eyes? Behind me? Back to my breasts? I smirked and stroked his cheek.

"I didn't… didn't think that one through. What a mess I've made of myself," he muttered shamefully, wincing a little. I captured his lips in a kiss, feeling like the longer I left it to do so, the more distant we'd become. The more final that event would seem. 

My hips moved again, Arthur's hands caught me again. I whined. 

"Suh– hah– sensitive," he said against my mouth and I slid my hips back, away. A little guilty. He chuckled, perhaps realising he'd taught me something. 

Arthur lifted me, moving me like I was weightless, to place me down on the mattress beside him. He leaned over me, holding himself up on his elbow by my head as he kissed me, hand travelling down my body, over my breast and my stomach. His fingers passed a ticklish spot on my tummy and I jerked; he dodged that area and let his fingers dance along the top of my jeans. 

"Can I touch you?" He asked me, his voice so quiet and clear as it cut through the sound of the rain still hammering down from above. I nodded my head, keeping my eyes on his as he worked one handed to unbuckle my belt. It took a moment, but he got there, and he worked on the button of my jeans next. My breath picked up as he got closer to his goal, so full of anticipation I felt like I could scream. Hell, I wanted to, if only to release some of the tension I was feeling.

"You definitely want this?" He made sure, eyes so intimately locked on mine. 

"Please," I nodded again, throwing my arm around his shoulders. 

Arthur kissed me again as he worked his hand inside my jeans, then under the waistband of my drawers. His teeth ever so gently nipped at my bottom lip, earning a gasp, before his lips pressed to the corner of my mouth and held there while his mind concentrated on other things. His fingers made some explorative strokes over the curls of hair down there, before dipping lower, ghosting over my lips ever so lightly, making my body writhe and bow, a quiet squeak escaping me. I heard Arthur chuckle, felt the breaths roll over my lips. 

He stroked through my folds, fingers sliding so easy in my wetness, and Arthur let out a sound more pleased than I anticipated given I was the one being touched, not him. He found my clitoris, rolling it gently and lightly under his fingertips, making me gasp and tilt my hips to find more pressure. At this, he pressed harder, not out to tease me or keep me waiting for anything, he wanted to pleasure me. My breaths turned shaky and loud and I could do nothing but lay there with my eyes squeezed shut, clinging to him. It was surreal, having him touch me in such a way; surreal but anything but unpleasant. Another person's ministrations felt different from my own; both less and more intense. Less because it was new to him, he was just beginning to work out what I liked. More because it was him, of course, I needn't explain any further.

He moved faster, parting his lips by my mouth and swallowing up my moans. My eyes opened to find him watching me, taking in my expressions and reactions, his cheeks flushed and eyes lidded with lustful enjoyment. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and hummed behind them, tilting his head to look down at my body while his fingers wandered further south. He paused for a moment to press his lips against my collar bone, then again to the top of my breast, head tilting, nose drawing a line right down to above my nipple where his lips barely brushed before he thought better of it and moved back.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he whispered to me, then eased a single finger inside me. I cried out, my fingers squeezing into the fabric of his shirt, my head lifting and pressing into his shoulder to hide my face as he so gently explored me. 

He moved back and forth slowly, his digit curling and feeling out my walls until he found my sweet spot and I sighed my affirmations, just there, stay there. He rocked against that spot, breathing raggedly into my ear, whispering encouraging words, lips turning to press to my neck.

"That's it, princess, I wanna know what you like. Let me know, angel, don't hold back your sounds," he was saying, his wrist tilting, the heel of his hand seeking my clit. He rubbed it simultaneously, and my whole body coiled, pulsed, sang. I'd never felt so good, so aroused and stimulated and ready for my release. I let him work me up to my edge, pleading with him, don't stop, so good.

"Good girl," he purred, doing something completely indecent to me and driving my hips up against his hand. 

His lips found a spot on my neck that would normally send me into fits of giggles but right then it acted as the final thrill of stimulation to set me off and I choked out a shuddering groan when my body released. My climax was powerful, pleasure enough to make my eyes water and my ears useless as it rolled through me in intensifying waves that lasted and lasted before tapering off, leaving me dizzy. Panting like crazy. Arthur's hum of approval met my ears once they started working again, his fingers still working slowly, bringing me down, easing me back to reality. 

My upper body relaxed and I dropped back down against the bed, my eyes casting up to the ceiling as he finally withdrew his hand. He was looking at me, I could feel it, but I was too shy to look back. But shyness had no place between what we'd just done, and I forced myself to meet his gaze; he gave me a crooked, mindless little smile that showed me he was just as far gone as I was. Just as tired and spent and unfurled. He moved in to seal the deal with a kiss on the lips, a brief peck that warmed my mouth before more kisses were speckled across my cheeks, past my temples, up to my forehead. I closed my eyes and revelled in it, exhaling loudly and letting my hands slide up his arms to settle on his chest.

A moment later he was retreating, slipping out of my reach and stiffly sitting on the edge of the bed, a sigh escaping him. One that was a little more displeased than I'd like to have heard. It made sense very quickly, however. 

"I'm gross, better clean myself up before we do anything else. Can't believe I did that, shooting in my damn pants like it's the first time I ever looked at a lady," he said, mostly under his breath, tone littered with shame and self-deprecation. It confused me. Why on earth would that be something to be ashamed of? No different to what I'd done, really. 

Arthur shifted onto one side and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped at his fingers, first, setting a blush about my face before he unfastened his pants and the lower buttons of his union suit, cleaning up the mess he'd made of the inside of his clothes. I couldn't see anything from my position behind him, but boy was I tempted to sit up. I didn't though, knowing there'd be plenty of time for us to see each other in all our glory later down the line. Speaking of, I was suddenly reminded of the fact I was completely naked from the waist up, and hastily reached for my camisole.

As I pulled it over my head, wonder set in over how I'd had the guts to bare myself to him, especially considering I was suddenly so eager to cover myself up before he turned his eyes to me again. In the heat of the moment I had let go of all shame, nerves and hesitance. I'd wanted him to look at me. Now, with my inhibitions returning, I was undeniably embarrassed.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to see me redressing, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He put his handkerchief to one side and twisted in his place to face me. 

"Are you cold?" He asked me. I nodded, though I was okay, truth be told. His hand reached for my shirt, discarded on the bed, squeezing to feel that it was still damp. He didn't hesitate to temporarily slip aside his suspenders and unbutton his own shirt, still dry thanks to the jacket he'd been wearing in the rain.

"Oh, no, you don't have to," I said, realising what he was doing as he pulled his shirt off, revealing his union suit underneath. 

"I don't need it," he told me, pulling the suspenders back in place. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable, sitting there in your underthings." 

"That's sweet," I breathed, smiling despite myself. I laughed when he sheepishly sniffed his shirt before handing it to me, seemingly satisfied with its cleanliness. "Thank you," I flushed, taking it from him and slipping it over my arms, only bothering to close enough buttons to keep it closed.

It smelled like him, of course. That sweet smoky firewood that I likely smelled of too, given our shared lifestyle. Plus his own personal scent that I couldn't describe, it smelled pleasant, even with the overtones of sweat. It'd been a hard couple of days riding and hunting, I was hardly immune from perspiration either, I wondered if he felt at all put off by the way I smelled. Frankly, nothing about Arthur could put me off.

Rain still battered the roof of our shelter, it didn't sound like it was stopping any time soon. Arthur commented something to that effect and I nodded, not finding an ounce of me that cared. I was happy. With a heavy, contented breath, Arthur moved to lay down on the bed then made little gestures with his hands to usher me over. Once I was close enough, he pulled me into his embrace and made me lay on top of him; much like I'd woken up on him the other morning. A smile spread across my face and I dipped my head below his chin to hide it from him. It only grew when his lips pecked the top of my head and his hand lazily began to brush up and down my spine.

[jewpacabruhs]

I was reading your tags and please, for the love of God, write a Mafia AU. I haven't been able to find any good ones.

i wanna so bad! i find organized crime fascinating, & i’m also a big movie nerd, with crime films being my fav genre, so im super into that sorta thing. definitely would love to see it, but o boy, maybe ill jus write it myself?? gotta do everythin myself haha

i’d def go the historical route, so it’d be interesting to try to both apply characters that are firmly rooted in 90s/2000s behaviors & beliefs, and stick them in the 1900s. oh, boy, writing historical stuff is a pain. so much research. worth it tho, if it’s done well. aye, and it’ll be cool to try to keep it as nonfictional as possible. like, attempting to insert the kids (as adults, obvs) into crime history. i wonder if i could do tht? it’d be fun. it’s definitely uncharted waters. there’s a lot of potential there.

but, hmm, i think mafia aus are so rare in fandom (not just the sp fandom, but across the board) bc they contradict everything that’s popular in fanfic. mob aus would feature violence, business, finances, and corruption. whereas fics prefer cuddles, leisure time, a world where money aint an issue, and wholesomeness. and considering the majority of fic is written by horny and/or love-starved teenage girls who dont know or care about the aforementioned subjects, it makes sense. kinda a bummer, but understandable. in the defense of like everyone, lmao, those sorta fics take a lot of planning, & aint nobody got time. so i get it.

oof i think a major thing too is how gay-centric fic/fandom is, when the mobster world is undeniably a heterosexual one. thats an issue. shit, i wonder how many gay characters i could get away with while keeping it realistic. i mean, im sure there were gay mobsters, in fact i’ve read about a couple, but the lifestyles did not go hand in hand, lol.

IM STUPID NO ONE CARES ABT THIS DUMB SHIT HERES IDEAS

i’m thinking 1940s new york. im inclined towards kyman, as u probs kno, but again, the gay thing. huh. maybe i can figure it out. maybe theyre young bachelors, and theyre business partners & fuck around sometimes. we’ll see. anyway. if we’re gonna include all characters….

cartman would pull a goodfellas - he’s of, what, german descent? hell, considering his parents, he probably wouldn’t even exist in this universe. eh. well. he’d def be from yorkville, manhattan, cuz tht was a german neighbourhood. anyway he’d weasel into the italian mob, bc he’d be into the idea of 1) exorbitant amounts of money, and 2) being feared/respected. his authoritah! psh. and someone would notice how smart he is & mentor him, regardless of nationality. he’d quickly make enemies, though, because he’s rude & brash. he’d also quickly become one of the most respected young dons (would he reach that level, without a family? doubt it. he’d have to become a made man, which i believe is reserved exclusively for italians ….. ehhhh ill figure it out. maybe he’d branch out, start his own crime family. that’d be interesting. ooo.) damn, ukno, i think the 40s would make a real interesting character out of cartman. huh. yah, that’d be cool to explore, how that time period would shape him. like i said, he likely wouldt even exist. did the denver broncos exist back then? doubt it

kyle would get wrapped up in the jewish mob (which existed, and which i’d personally l o v e to be a part of lol - if i was born 100 years ago), maybe while trying to protect ike from getting involved? that’d be cool. maybe he’d demonstrate his brains & be offered a job as an accountant or an attorney, and he’d be forced to comply, either bc 1) his fam was threatened if he declined, or 2) his fam was doing bad financially & needed it. maybe both. hell, maybe he avoids the jewish mob & gets involved with the others. MAYBE IKE IS THE ONE IN THE JEWISH MOB & WANTS HIS BROTHER BACK FROM THE ITALIANS. OOOOOOOOO also they’d be from brooklyn, likely, bc that’s where jews were primarily located back then. u kno there was 400k jews in new york in 1899?? including my great great great grandparents. that’s a shit ton of jews lol. lil fun fact for ya. 

wait ok so oof this is hard now, bc the mob was primarily divided into three chunks - the italians, the jews, & the irishmen. there was also the puerto ricans, but that was, like, a different division. i’m mentioning this because nationality was important to mobsters, to all organized crimes groups actually, but south park doesn’t make a habit of mentioning what countries each character’s ancestors came from, lol. so it’d be a lot of writer interpretation. and that’s cool and all, but doesn’t give me much to work with, considering most of the kids are white and likely german/england-descended. 

i could make kenny & butters irish. that’d work. i think kenny’s last names irish, actually. they could be from hell’s kitchen, which had a p hefty irish-american population. maybe i could make stan irish, too. wendy might be able to pass for italian (little italy manhattan??? maybe the bronx??? im tryna think geography lol. for scale.). that’d work, if i wanted to put some stendy in there, bc i love making stan the token het guy, haha. maybe wendys dad marries her off to stan to form an alliance between the italians & irish. that’d be interesting. maybe cartman was rallying to get wendy to marry him, bc he needed to marry someone bc of, like, societal expectations, & she was the only girl who caught his interest. maybe he declares war on stan, to win back the bride he wants. maybe kyles best friends w stan, tht happened somehow, & interjects. goes to meet cartman to discuss a way out - ohhhhh theres my kyman babay!!! oooooo!!!

omg. plot forming. this is def an interesting concept. maybe i can use it as a chance to write a plot-oriented fic that doesn’t rely heavily on ships. that’d be awesome. i’ve wanted to do that for ages.

maybe we can squeeze christophe in as a french immigrant, maybe an associate of someone. same with gregory, but, like, british. that’d be fun. craig & tweek can be somewhere in there, too. associates of cartman or something. maybe they own a brothel. oooh. who else. bebe! maybe she can be a cabaret dancer who someone falls for. nothin wrong w hetero nonsense if it’s done right & if it aint nonsense. yah? maybe she can be ken’s love interest. also maybe token & nichole can be in there somewhere, from harlem?

this sounds fun as fuck, though, def. im really obsessed with new york right now, so maybe writing this could be a love letter to its history. that’d be dope. ooh, and im from las vegas actually, born & raised, so maybe i could do a chapter set there, considering the mob was very influential in the strip’s development. that’d be rad. holy heck. im excited abt this now. gotta finish oboitd asap & get into this, haha.

o shit. i jus realized, like, just how much research i’d have to do. like, not only about organized crime, abt 40s slang & dress, abt new york, abt everything. oooh boy this is a Project

ill get on that eventually haha, im into it now. it’s 4am rn tho so ima sleep, gnite anon

[eyez-ff-blog]

○○ eyez | nine

August 19, 2015 – Houston, Texas

Beija was the first to get off the bus when the caravan reached the downtown Houston area. She was more than happy to be home—despite all of the things she had done throughout the summer, the places she had been, and the things she got to experience, nothing would compare to being back home. It helped a lot that they would have a day to themselves to properly rest up and get ready for the corresponding show on Friday. Beija had only one plan she wanted to fulfill, and that was to see her friends and family.

Once everyone was checked in and settled, Beija had notified everyone that she’d be gone for the majority of the day. She caught the metro and began to traverse the city in the only way she knew how. It’d be a little bit to make her way from downtown to her neighborhood on the southwest side of town, but it’d be well worth it when she was able to see her friends.

As she sat on the bus, she heard her phone ring, and she pulled it out to see Omari’s number flash across the screen. Smiling, she swiped the talk feature and put the phone to her ear. “Hi there,” She greeted softly as she leaned back in her seat.

“What’s up, babygirl? You made it to Houston already?” He asked.

“I just got here. About to go visit my girls and have a self-care day,” She explained. She had yet to have a day to really pamper herself, and she knew she needed it.

“That’s good, I hope you have a good time. How has everything been with work?” He asked. “By the way, I still have to give you your gift for becoming an A&R when you finally come home to me,” He reminded, and she let out a small giggle. “What?” He chuckled.

“That was just cute. ‘When you finally come home to me.’ That was...oddly comforting to me,” B looked out the window to make sure that she would make it to the right stop.

“Let me find out you flattered and shit,” Beija couldn’t help but to playfully roll her eyes as her cheeks began to heat, listening to his laughter. “But why wouldn’t I say that? You know I miss you,” He said, and she could almost hear the smirk in his tone.

“You miss me sleeping in the bed with you while I was on break. Don’t be tryna spit game,” She warned, causing another laugh from the male.

“Ain’t nobody spitting no game, girl. I don’t have to when I know you’re gonna be my lady soon,” She bit at her lip at the sound of his drawl, shaking her head slowly.

“Mm-hm, sure. If you gonna try to court me, you better keep it up even when you get me. I’m no basic girl, you know,” She reminded.

“I know that, baby. Why you think I shot my shot when I did? I’d be dumb not to,” He said. “But I’m gonna let you go. Enjoy your day with your girls, okay? Be safe,” He concluded.

“You too! I’ll call you later tonight,” She promised.

“I’ll look forward to that, B,” The two hung up soon after, and she shook her head as she bit into the inside of her cheek softly, trying to calm her own embarrassment. She almost hated the way he made her feel, but she was slowly learning to allow things to naturally evolve between them. Deep down, she was ready to go home and be with him just as much.

Some bus layovers later, she was back on her side of town, and she exited the bus and waited at the park and ride within her area. Some moments later, a truck pulled up and parked, and a young lady hopped out of it before running around the car. “Beija!”

“Oh my God!” The girls screamed before they shared a tight and loving embrace, rocking side to side as they hugged. “Lauren, I missed you,” She cooed.

“I missed you more!” The young woman gushed. “Come on, let’s go—Ayana and Sara are waiting on us,” Lauren led Beija to the truck before helping her into the passenger’s seat.

Lauren was one of Beija’s best friends growing up—the group of women consisted of four, but the two of them were inseparable; they were born in the same hospital room, stayed neighbors for most of their lives, and even graduated high school together. It was only when Beija moved up to New York and Lauren stayed down in Houston that they didn’t spend as much time together. But they talked on the phone often and every other summer Lauren came up to New York to spend time with her best friend. The woman was pretty, much like Beija but her toffee complexion seemed to contrast to Beija’s dark brown skin. She was a little taller and her hair was a light brown. She was skinnier than Beija as well, but still held some formidable womanly curves.

“Okay, so you gotta tell me what’s been going on with you, girl. What’s the touring been like?” Lauren asked while she drove.

“Girl, nothing but work but I can’t complain. Once I get off tour everything will be a bit smoother. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Everything has been amazing,” B smiled as she spoke.

“That’s amazing, B. I’m so proud of you, mama,” Lauren chuckled as they turned into a parking lot—there was a hair and nail salon that stood before them. “But you done got all grown on me! You glowing and shit,” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Girl, I’ll tell you about it when we get inside,” B laughed softly before Lauren parked the car. Once the two exited the truck, they headed inside the hair salon.

The salon seemed to almost be a hub space of sorts, full of women of all colors but predominately black. While some were getting deep conditioning or perms, others were getting fresh sew-in weaves or braids. There were even some women who were maintaining their fades. Laughter, gossip and deep conversation filled the air like fine spices, and the smell of Beija’s favorite chicken was also lingering in the air. Black art hung on the walls like historic relics, and the soft sounds of the city’s easy listening and adult contemporary station played like a soundtrack to a movie. It was something like a safe space for women and women of color especially, and it was a staple of Beija’s childhood. She could remember her mother bringing her here so many years ago, and she still got her hair done here to this day if she didn’t feel like doing her own hair.

“Beija? Hey!” B looked up and saw the third and fourth of her four musketeers, and she smiled as she approached the Hispanic woman and gave her a tight hug. “When did you get back?”

“I got in like an hour ago. How’s it going Sara?” B smiled a bit at the beauty before she looked down at the last of her friendship circle, who was currently getting her hair rolled up. “What’s up, Yana? I see you still getting curls like an old church mother,” She joked.

“You already talkin’ shit, I’m tired,” The girl’s voice was small and full of warmth, and B couldn’t help but to laugh as she paused to give her a hug.

Sara and Ayana were the second half of the friendship group that Beija had been a part of for many years. Sara, like Lauren and Beija, was a Houston native and the epitome of the term ‘Tex-Mex.’ Her parents were immigrants from Mexico and spoke very little English, and when Sara, Lauren and Beija met in middle school, the girl was shy and knew only a bit of English herself. But with time she broke out of her shell and became the ‘mom friend’ amongst the four. With her pale skin and dark red hair, she looked way more intimidating that she actually was. She was slender and short, and nowadays couldn’t be seen without her pearly white smile.

Ayana was actually from Miami—she moved down to Houston when Beija was a high school freshman. The two became friends because Beija took up for Ayana, who always seemed to be the target of bullying. Despite her black heritage, it was hard to tell with her vitiligo. Kids could be cruel to her, which explains her ever-set soft spoken ways. But she was probably the kindest and most intelligent soul one could come across. She was tall and model-like, with big grey eyes and full lips. Her hair was thick and lengthy, and despite how athletically built she was, she was still pretty much a dainty and girly dresser.

Once Beija embraced all the familiar faces she knew, she sat down for a deep conditioning and a braiding of her hair. She figured the rest of the tour, she wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of doing her hair. Once the beautician washed her hair and detangled it, she was sent under the dryer next to Lauren.

“Okay, so are you gonna tell me now why you lookin’ all glowed up?” Beija glanced over at Lauren as the woman spoke. “Who you been talking to, huh?” She teased.

“You have a boyfriend?” Ayana asked, a bit of excitement in her voice. “Finally, Beija has found her someone,” She said happily.

“Oh Lord—guys, slow down,” Beija began to laugh. “I mean...yeah, I did meet a guy. And I like him a lot,” She admitted.

“Is it the cute guy from Instagram?” Sara asked, scrolling through her phone. “Or are you dating that Omen guy from Dreamville? I heard that was just a rumor,” Sara stayed on the blogs and tabloids, so Beija wasn’t surprised that she knew that.

“Girl, please. Damon is like a brother. If you’re talking about the dark skinned guy, then yeah. That’s Omari,” Beija explained.

“Oh! He’s cute!” Ayana commented once Sara showed a picture of him on her phone. “He looks like a model. I taught you well,” She beamed.

“Here comes the hopeless romantic,” Lauren giggled. “But I won’t lie, I’m happy for you too. I thought you were gonna be curving guys for the rest of your damn life,” She shook her head.

“Hey! I don’t be curving like that! ...Do I?” Beija wondered.

“Yes!” The other three women said in unison before they began to laugh. Beija shook her head before she playfully pouted, crossing her arms.

“Are y’all serious? I swear I don’t try to be rude like that,” She explained.

“Of course it’s not intentional, BB. But you know how you are—you always been focused on your goals, which is a good thing,” Sara pointed out. “Hopefully this guy is the guy that will really try to compliment who you are,” She said.

“Mhm! Or else you’ll walk all over him. Like you did Montel,” Lauren teased, speaking of Beija’s first and only boyfriend so far. The two dated from high school but Beija promptly dumped him due to ‘not feeling fulfilled.’

“Oh goodness—he still talks about you to this day. How you crushed his spirit. He been trying to find another you ever since. It’s crazy,” Yana commented.

“I doubt it’s that bad, y’all. He just be playing,” Beija downplayed.

“Girl! Please. Boy is straight crazy over you—guys be sweating you heavy, you just be blissfully ignorant,” Sara chuckled.

“Which is good, actually. Imagine if our girl was like one of them cocky ass pretty girls. I wouldn’t be able to deal,” Lauren shook her head. “1,000 unread messages headass,” She teased.

“Oh, bye! I’ll never take that route,” Beija laughed softly.

After the girls got their hair done, they moved to the nail salon and spa, where they all conversed and continued to catch up over facials, eyebrow threading, manicures and pedicures. Once they had successfully primped up, the four went out to a late lunch at their favorite Greek spot. After that they disbanded, leaving only Lauren and Beija. Lauren opted to drive Beija back to her hotel instead of making her take the bus, which was fine with B because she needed her girl’s advice.

“Lauren,” Beija began, and Lauren turned down her music before glancing over at her friend. “You’re my girl, yeah? And you’ll tell me the truth,” She assumed.

“Uh, duh girl. You’re my sister, not just my girl. I’m gonna keep it real—what’s up?” She asked.

The truck soon rolled to a stop as they began to hit up some evening traffic. “I got this...problem. Well, it’s not really a problem, but yeah. See, you know how I been working for Dreamville and everything, and everything’s been great, but...” She trailed off.

“Is something going wrong business wise?” Lauren asked, and Beija shook her head. “So it’s personal...”

“I’ve become really good friends with Jermaine,” Beija revealed.

“Oh...oh! Wait—J. Cole? Like, your high school celebrity crush J. Cole? ‘In the Morning’ is probably your favorite song of all time, J. Cole—girl, okay!” Lauren began to laugh.

“Shut—shut up!” Beija frowned as she was reminded of her childhood crush, shaking the feeling off before she huffed impatiently. “Be serious! This might be a real issue. Like we’re super close...but I don’t know if I am doing the right thing by being this close to him,” She said.

“I mean, y’all just friends right? I know he’s married now, so you gotta be careful about some of the things you two may do or say,” Lauren warned.

“It might be too late for that. He told me he liked me—like, to my face Lauren. He said that,” Beija watched Lauren shift in her seat, and she sighed softly. “We actually stopped talking for like, months—because you know me. I don’t want to cause any trouble. I literally can’t handle that,” She added.

“I know, I know. So what made you talk to him again?” Lauren asked.

“He came to me. And he was telling me he missed our friendship and he missed me. And I felt the same so we just patched up the argument we had and promised we wouldn’t cross any lines. But I don’t know,” B frowned.

“Do you not trust him? Or...hm,” Lauren twisted her lips to the side.

“What? L, don’t hold out on me. I need every ounce of advice I can get,” Beija practically begged for some sage words.

“I want you to be honest with me, B. I won’t judge you—but is there a possibility that you have feelings for Jermaine? And maybe you feel guilty about it?” Lauren asked.

“What? N-no! I could never let that happen. He’s married, Lo. I couldn’t do that to him or to his wife, even if she does have a stank ass attitude with me,” Beija furrowed her brows at the thought of Melissa, and how the woman treated her at J’s birthday party.

“I didn’t ask what you let happen, B. I asked how does your heart feel. What is it like when you two are together?” Lauren asked.

“I just...it’s different. It’s like I can let my guard down around him. He’s really funny...in that dickheaded kind of way,” B huffed before laughing to himself. “He’s smart as fuck. Really charming when he feels like it. And when he laughs it’s weird. He has a weird laugh, it’s almost this deep and robust kind of laugh—it makes the dumbest joke seem like comedic gold. And when he looks at me...it’s weird,” She explained.

“Oh, girl...” Lauren mumbled almost mournfully.

“Lauren...don’t,” B shook her head.

“You don’t! You’re in denial but you just made him sound like somethin’ out of a romantic comedy. Your mind may know what the deal is but your heart...girl, you like him. And he likes you back. This is all bad,” Lauren sighed. “What are you gonna do?”

“Nothing. Because I don’t like him like that. He’s a great friend and he makes me happy, but I can’t like a married man. Period. I’m going to be his friend, and when I get back to New York I’m gonna work on things with Omari, and that’s all there is to it,” Beija sat back in her seat, seemingly made up within her own mind.

“Well...I see you’re not gonna face the truth,” Lauren chuckled before she shook her head. “All I can hope is that you know what you’re doing. Because I’d hate to be you on the morning you wake up and realize that you’re in love with J. Cole.”