#in Dutch it’s ‘ei’ lol

[anadorablekiwi]

Here have pants

#kiwi rambles #kiwi talks genshin #I’m off to bed and wsnted to post a random pic and this one was still on my phone so. #mr pants for ya #and yes I’m 100% calling him mr pants from now on #my sister and i also figured out we can call scaramouche ‘moo’ #and childe could be ‘kid’ #or tar #so weve got mr pants moo and kid #fishl could be fish #thoma could be tomato #ei is egg in dutch apparently so shes egg obviously #kuki is cookie #and diluc is hot 😉😏🤣 (so is thoma hehe) #(no i do not actually refer to diluc or thoma as ‘hot’ for their names lol) #anyways good night yall

[annasinterests]

going out, she's getting into something

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: here's my contribution for the season, witches! i had SO much fun writing this piece and i hope to get out more for this month! i definitely didn't think it'd be this long but i absolutely loved where it went. also ten points if you could tell when the tone shifted because i started listening to mitski LOL

the dividers are by @saradika — be sure to check them out! 🤍

word count: 10.4k

pairings: arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, halloween time!!! tried to be historically accurate but then again this is fiction y'all, readers having the time of her life honestly, pining, cursing, mentions of alcohol, perhaps some errors??, and some wholesome moments here n there :) — please tell me if i missed anything!

“I already told you girls, the answer is no.”

She didn’t look up from her washing basin as she gave a firm response, her voice tinged with fatigue from the relentless persistence on this matter.

Miss Grimshaw– the unyielding matriarch of the gang– always looking out for the best interest of the camp, even if it meant extinguishing your hopes of a joyous venture beyond its confines.

Normally, you’d accept the answer and move on. But this time, that wasn’t the case. No, you’d been going at it all this week, employing every conceivable tactic to sway her decision– most of which involved volunteering for additional chores atop your designated ones already– because today wasn’t just any other day.

It was Halloween.

And you were damned if you weren’t going out to celebrate it in all its glory.

“Ms. Grimshaw, please,” you continued to beg, “I won’t ask for a thing more!”

The ceaseless scrubbing paused, her hands moving to wipe across her skirt before pressing them against her forehead, muttering words only audible to herself. You stood before her eagerly, hands folded neatly over your apron, shoulders squared– striving to project an aura of innocence that might influence her.

She shook her head as her hands fell hard on her lap, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Go ask Dutch. If he says it's fine, then you girls can go.”

The elation you felt at her response made you want to dart away before she could have second thoughts, yet your feet remained in the same spot of the muddy grass your heels slowly sunk into. She eyed you as she stood up, your presence a mystery even though she’d already granted your request.

Even though she kept you all on a tight leash, her actions were rooted in sound judgment.

The whole reason there was any stability at camp at all was because of her, no matter how long or short you stayed in some places. She possessed an innate sense of what needed to be done, always placing the welfare of the camp, and more particularly, her girls, at the forefront, even if she had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

“Won’t you come out, too?” Maybe it was naive of you to ask, given she almost never step foot outside camp unless absolutely necessary.

Her hardened stare softened for a moment, peering behind you at camp momentarily as if she really were contemplating it. Her gaze returned to you, her eyebrows drawn together with the faintest curl on her lips.

“What happened to not asking for another thing?”

With a small smile and nod, you excused yourself and set out to find Dutch.

Much to your surprise, he wasn’t in his tent, and a lack of an answer of his whereabouts from Ms. O’Shea didn’t help. Nor did one from Javier out on the post claiming that he hadn’t seen him ride in or out today. And through your thorough search around camp, none revealed a trace of the man you eagerly sought.

On your way back to his tent for a second try, you recognized a figure donning a signature white shirt and black vest standing at the far end of camp, where the view was best of Horseshoe Overlook.

Your smile grew wider with each step to approach him, only calling his name when you were within a few feet.

“Dutch! Can I-”

While your voice caught his attention, it had also gotten the man who stood just nearby him, concealed by the trees until now. You came to an abrupt stop, flickering your widening gaze between the men, feeling hot embarrassment creep onto your cheeks.

It’d been Arthur.

He’d only looked over his shoulder to you, still facing the canyon with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. The brim of his hat rested just above his eyes as he appraised you, running his eyes up and down your figure.

“I’m sorry..” Your hands instinctively folded against your stomach, “I didn’t realize you were..”

A low chuckle rumbled from Dutch’s chest as he approached you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Nonsense, Miss. Arthur and I were just enjoying the view. Why don’t you join us?”

Your gaze shifted from Dutch’s to Arthur’s, who maintained his position with his chin tucked over his shoulder. He gave no indication as to whether or not your presence affected him, and a slight unease settled in as he was usually quick with a polite comment or sarcastic remark, but he did neither and continued to look at you.

Returning your attention to Dutch, you found him patiently waiting for your response– one hand lingering on your shoulder while the other was outstretched in an invitation to join them at the plateau.

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you walked forward, Dutch appearing to your right and Arthur to his.

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Below and in the distance, dense forests and mountain ranges stretched for miles, a white veil of mist shrouded at the peaks, and the Dakota River flowed through the canyon, its waters reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky.

What made the scene even more enchanting was the weather– the sun shining bright with barely any clouds to obstruct its rays, its warmth a delight on your skin. The air was crisp in a way that each breath rejuvenated your lungs, a cool and fresh quality trademarked by the fall season.

“What do you think, Miss?” He asked without averting his gaze.

You turned to him, stealing another glance before you, “Pretty as a picture, Dutch.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he softly echoed your sentiment. “Indeed it is.”

For a moment, your eyes fell to Arthur. Like Dutch, he made no move to look away, fully immersed and reveling in the simple pleasures of the moment. His hat still lowered over his eyes, shielding sunlight from those bright blues that could be the sweetest or most intimidating sight. His facial scruff was perfectly tailored for the season– substantial yet manageable, complementing his rugged appearance.

Even in his relaxed stance, you could see his clothing fighting to fit around his muscles, especially in the shoulders and arms. The cuffs of his sleeves clung snugly to his forearms, the contours of his strength evident in raised veins and muscular definition. His thumbs remained tucked into his belt, his large hands lazily curling over it, an embodiment of quiet strength and presence.

A flurry of thoughts swirled in your head– the loudest among them an undeniable realization of just how incredibly attractive this man was.

And how this definitely wasn’t the first time you were thinking this.

You hadn’t realized that you were looking right at him while your thoughts were running wild, and immense embarrassment hit you like a freight train when your eyesight focused on him staring right back at you.

To compound your mortification, your initial reaction was to smile– a smile that aimed to conceal the fact that you had been thoroughly checking him out. You tried to maintain some air of sweetness and innocence, but you knew he could see right through it.

It faltered when he broke contact and looked down, his hat serving as a convenient shield to hide his face entirely. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, cursing your own lack of composure. It was painfully obvious. You’d gone ahead and made a fool of yourself in front of the man.

Dutch’s voice interrupted your thoughts and commanded you to pull your attention back.

“Camp’s in mighty fine shape thanks to the help of you women here,” he remarked, finally looking at you. “Your contributions are always valued.”

You smoothed out your skirt, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Wouldn’t be as good as it is without Miss Grimshaw. That woman is the glue that keeps us together, I swear by it.”

“That she is.” He agreed, “But with all the effort you ladies put in, I ought to say that you girls deserve a little time to yourselves. Not in camp, that is.”

Your jaw slacked and eyes sparkled with excitement. Barely able to contain the thrill that coursed through your body, your hands began to gesture emphatically as you started up.

“Actually, that’s why I was looking for you!” A grin spread on his face as he took notice of your demeanor, “The girls and I have been dying to go out!”

You caught Arthur lift his head to you, but continued on.

“We would love to go out to town,” you reached out and grazed his arm as he listened, “pleeease, Dutch. Just for tonight?”

He nodded, that reassuring hand finding your shoulder again. “Of course, how could I say no to that?”

You beamed at him, buzzing with even more excitement.

“Where would you ladies like to go? Valentine? Perhaps even Strawberry?”

You bit down on your lip again in a futile attempt to suppress the wicked smile that grew on your face, sheepishly shrugging your shoulders. “Saint Denis?”

“Saint Denis?” Arthur interjected before anyone could speak, stepping in front of Dutch and briefly glancing at you, “Dutch, that’s–”

“Quite alright if that’s where they want to go,” Dutch smoothly derailed his refute, “Arthur.”

But Arthur, being the obstinate man he was, didn’t heed the cue. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head, “That's far, Dutch. Too far.”

Dutch fell silent for a moment, drawing a hand to his hip and shifting his weight to one foot. You wanted to say something to counter Arthur’s point, but you knew his standing with Dutch, so contradicting him could jeopardize your argument, especially after Dutch had already expressed his approval.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we’ll all be going to Saint Denis tonight.”

Dutch’s ability to orchestrate a plan that convinced everyone to head down to Saint Denis was a mystery to you, but the best part was that you had absolutely no responsibility in their efforts to move camp for a night.

Because the only thing you had to focus on was having fun.

After Dutch’s final say, Arthur grumbled, shook his head, and retreated back into camp. It likely didn’t improve his mood when you broke the news to the girls and you all erupted in joyful shouts and jumped around, clinging to one another out of pure delight.

Or when you all approached Lenny and Javier in front of him to ask if they’d take you to town and they agreed without putting up the slightest fight.

Or when you couldn’t resist teasing him by suggesting that he wear his best costume for the evening ahead, earning you a glare that you couldn’t help but smirk at.

You hadn’t even had the chance to get out a proper goodbye to the boys as Tilly grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off the wagon to emerge yourselves in the scene of the town, disappearing into the crowds on the paved streets and dodging the ever flowing trams.

Jack O'Lanterns adorned nearly everywhere you turned, perched atop picket fences that lined the slums to the mansion district. Hay bales, while adding to the festive atmosphere, served as a dual purpose as both sustenance for horses and a playground for children to climb upon– an amusing sight that elicited giggles from you.

Karen had led you all into the markets where several vendors hunkered down for the long night ahead, selling various treats and services from harvest foods, to jewelry, to fortune tellings. They all beckoned and invited you over with their expert sales tactics, and usually you would be able to just ignore them, but given today, you gave in to a woman at a jewelry stand.

You and the girls encircled her table and ogled at all the shiny pieces before you, your hands hovering over a splendid array of rings, earrings, and necklaces. With the utmost care, you picked up a ring to examine it further, capturing the saleswoman's attention.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” Mary-Beth leaned in to admire it with you, “I’ve never seen somethin’ quite like that before.”

She was absolutely right; it was one of the finest pieces you’d ever seen, far surpassing what you’d observed other women wear. It was a tri-colored gold ring– a dainty gold rose in the middle, flanked by a pink and green leaf to each side, all set against a band crafted with a delicate weaving pattern.

“Would you like to try it on?” The woman offered with a kind smile. “See how it fits?”

You slipped it on your ring finger with ease, gently turning your wrist to admire it from different angles. It hugged against your skin like it was meant to be.

But when you looked down at the price tag, you quickly changed your mind.

“This is a very lovely piece,” you took it off and placed it back on the table, earning a raised brow from Karen, “but it’s more than what I can offer.”

The woman simply nodded at your honesty. You were well aware that most items in these markets were overpriced, with prices inflated to maximize profit, but you felt that this one was truly worth it’s value. With a polite smile, you stepped away from the table and began to walk off with the girls, your heart feeling a little heavy but knowing it wasn’t the end of the world.

But a gentle hand on your elbow caught your attention, pulling you away from the group– the woman.

She took your hand and cupped hers over it, feeling a small object fall into it. Silently, she observed as her hand revealed what she’d given you.

The ring.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and your eyes widened, quickly covering it with your other hand.

“Ma’am, I can’t possibly– I don’t have enough–” Her hand on your arm again made you quiet.

“You could’ve easily stolen it from me, but you told the truth and walked away.” Her smile was warm as she plucked the ring from your hand and slipped it on your finger. “Not many people do that here in Saint Denis.”

You looked at her sympathetically, holding her hands in your own, “How can I repay you?”

She grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Come back if you wind up stealing from anyone else.”

You muffled your laughter with a hand over your mouth, giving her a knowing look as she playfully shooed you off with a wink.

You were certainly going to pay her another visit.

Rejoining the girls, you discreetly but excitedly displayed your new possession, allowing each of them to take a turn at holding it up to their faces for a closer look, their voices filled with admiration for its beauty.

Moving out of the markets, you came across the park of Saint Denis. A massive tent had been pitched across the field with people busy setting it up for the evening’s events, clearly designed to cater to a younger crowd. Beneath it were several rows of seats arranged in front of a stage that featured a couple of large basins evenly spaced apart– instantly recognizing it for apple-bobbing. Taking notice of the flairs of red gingham about the area, it made you smile with the detail put into celebrating the day.

The girls had been chattering excitedly about something you hadn’t been fully tuned into, but you snapped back to attention when Karen seized your hand and urged you to run.

Spinning around, Mary-Beth and Tilly were a few paces ahead to your right while Sadie came bolting closer from your left, a wicked grin spread on her face as she pointed towards the other two girls.

“Jump on that trolley!”

Without a second thought, you began weaving in and out of the crowd, your knees kicking your skirt up with each leap. Laughter escaped from you as you heard the startled cries of townsfolk being pushed aside in your hasty getaway, though you really had no idea why you were running at all.

You grabbed Tilly’s hand and hauled yourself up as Mary-Beth did with Karen, whipping around and sticking your hand out for Sadie who was too far away for your liking. Your heart was pounding as the men behind her were catching up, your smile from the adrenaline dropping and turning into panic.

Glancing back, you saw the trolley was due to turn a corner, inevitably too quick for Sadie to keep up with. Your panic escalated until you spotted a way to effectively cut off her pursuers– a tall stack of hay bales just waiting to be tipped over.

Swiftly, you sat on the rail and leaned back with the three girls holding your legs and waist, giving you the ultimate leverage.

“Sadie!” You shouted. “Cut the corner when I say!”

A thumbs up from her was good enough for you. You quickly alternated your gaze between her and the approaching corner, slowly leaning back and stretching out your arm until you couldn’t anymore, your adrenaline pulsing through your entire body now.

With one last look, you yelled your cue, and at the last moment threading your fingers through a band of twine and yanking with all your might.

Slowly, then all of once, they came tumbling down like you intended, fellow townspeople causing an even bigger commotion– or distraction, for your case. The men had no choice but to stop, tripping over the bales and crashing into other people, your plan executed perfectly except for one crucial detail– Sadie.

Frantically, you scanned the crowd, gripping the rail so hard that you were sure to put a dent in it. Shit– Had they got to her after the cut?

Before you could conjure a series of worst-case scenarios, she came sprinting from your right and jumped on to the trolley with ease, all of you ushering inside and taking a seat to catch your breaths.

“I keep tellin’ ya' to trade that skirt for pants, girl.” Sadie smacked your knee, “With quick thinkin’ like that, it’s a waste you don’t get out more.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. The thrill of doing jobs got you antsy, seeing it was something that you could seriously enjoy once in a while, but being a caretaker was what you were at heart. You liked providing stability in a different way.

“What in the hell was all that about?” Karen asked before you could while fanning herself with her hand, “You’re supposed to save the mischief for later, ya’ know.”

Sadie smirked and raised her hands defensively, “I may have miscalculated some things, but–” she dug into her pockets and revealed two handfuls of money, jewelry, and pocket watches. “I think it was worth it.”

You sighed back into your seat as Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen hovered over to get a better look, “I say we take that and go straight to a saloon.”

Sadie shot you an incredulous look, “I just worked my tail off for this, and you wanna spend it already?”

“No–” You dragged a hand over your face and huffed out a laugh, “For bets, idiot. Take more from their pockets, but the fair way.”

She contemplated for a moment. “I ain’t very good at table games.”

“I am!” Karen perked up.

You shot a sly look at Sadie, the dots connecting immediately. And just as you found your new activity for the next couple hours, the trolley slowed to a stop, and you all quickly hopped out the back and right into Doyle’s Tavern.

Hours in, Sadie was racking up more cash and treasures than all five of you could even carry.

It’d been more packed than when you first entered, the festive spirit flourishing through the establishment. On top of all the autumnal decorations already in place, skeletons dangled behind the bar and burning candles littered about to give the right impression of mischievous yet inviting. Round tables were busy with patrons, some full of drinks, others invested in rounds of poker or dominoes– like your own. And when you weren’t glued to a game, you were at the bar flirting your way for a free drink or charming men just to get close enough to discreetly pilfer valuables from their person.

Now, you sauntered over to Karen’s side after taking a brief stroll and glance at Sadie’s hand from the opposite side of the table. While you weren’t intimately familiar with poker, you knew what constituted the best possible hand, and it just so happened that your dear friend held that in her fingers without even knowing it.

You could see the men at the table underestimating her, their smug smiles stemming from her being the lone woman and their belief that they held the winning hand.

But none of them came close to a royal flush.

Nudging Karen, you whispered your observation, a smirk appearing on her face instantly. She shot Sadie a wink– the cue to let them have it– and watched the scene unfold as she splayed her cards across the table.

Their smug smiles dropped to open-mouthed astonishment and disapproving grumbles, slamming their hands down on the table and begrudgingly pushing their bets towards her. She kept her head down in a noble act, but it was really to hide the shit-eating grin on her face as the table cleared and her opponents drudged to the bar for another much needed drink after losing their fourth consecutive round.

Sadie joined you at the side as you all began to leave with the earnings. “God, why don’t we do this more often?” She mused while placing a chunk of wealth into your hands, “Better than the guys doin’ busted-up, ass-backwards jobs if ya’ ask me.”

Mary-Beth spun around and walked backwards as she received her cut, “Well we would if Miss Grimshaw wasn’t such a damn witch.”

“Mhm,” Karen agreed over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her ridin’ a broom tonight.”

Amid their hearty laughter, you quietly chuckled. You knew that despite her being a hell-bound handler, she loved you girls more than anything.

“Y’all are terrible,” you playfully chided while poking them in the back, “both of you!”

The sun had set as you entered the streets of Saint Denis again, now lit up by streetlights, candles, and Jack O’Lanterns. Your eyes twinkled at the sights, the town completely transforming for the night life. Children roamed the sidewalks in noisy groups, no doubt ready to wreak havoc and fully embody the spirit of mischief. Townsfolk flooded in front of every tavern, saloon, and vicinity that promised alcohol, money, and a good time.

But what really caught your eye was the other women– more precisely, their attire.

Left and right you spotted the most beautiful Victorian dresses you’d laid eyes upon– rich in color and carefully designed with the best materials money could buy– and as well as soft and colorful medieval gowns that fluttered and flowed in the gentle breeze. You couldn’t help but stare in awe of their beauty and how well-fitting they were for the evening.

Sadie saw your hands curl around your money as your eyes flitted around and a sly smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Ya’ know, there’s a boutique just around the corner.”

You shrugged at the idea, but she insisted. “Don’t give me none of that– Go on, go get yourself somethin’ pretty,” she bumped you with her elbow, “I know you wanna.”

You bit your lip as a smile crept on your face, glancing down at your hands and back to her while slowly backing away.

“Give me five minutes.”

It was a lie.

Five turned more into twenty with trying on several different dresses before finding the one.

Initially, you tried on the first dress you saw in the window of the shop, a gorgeous navy dress with an integrated corset between the flared skirt and puffy sleeves. However, the bustle was more than you bargained for, and you certainly didn’t fancy the look of having a shelf on your backside. The mirror in the fitting room let you know that the ‘regal’ look was something you weren’t interested in.

The second was a significant improvement from the first. It leaned toward a more gothic style, featuring a mix of black and red satin, as if the red were a robe draped over the black gown, yet both were stitched together seamlessly. Strings criss-crossed over the bust and torso, giving it a unique backward corset appearance, and the sleeves were long and chinched near the elbows. It even came with a hood adorned with black lace trim– a distinctive feature compared to most gowns you had seen. You loved how it looked and felt, but there was a persistent voice in your head that told you it looked too cultish, especially with the hood. In the end, your conscience had guided you out of the fitting room and onto the next.

Picking through the collections had consumed more time than you had anticipated, and your impatience grew as you felt your precious night slipping away.

Nothing was catching your eye and you just wanted something.

You looked out the window to all the bodies strolling through the streets– laughing, smiling, talking– while you were wasting time away finding a silly dress to wear.

The sound of the bell above the door ringing brought you back as a couple customers entered the store, a trio of young women in animated conversation about accessories and making a bee-line for the displays. But as you eyed them, your gaze shifted to just the right of them, falling on exactly what you were looking for.

There it was– a long, crimson floor-length skirt cinched at the seam under the bust, paired with a striking black blouse. But this wasn’t just any black blouse. No, it had balloon sleeves with exaggerated cuffs adorned with buttons that matched the body, and a stunning combination of lace and mesh on the collar that extended gracefully from shoulder to shoulder.

Not wasting another second, you swiped it and practically flew in and out of the changing room, taking a look in the mirror afterwards and absolutely falling in love with how it looked on you. It was comfortable and conventional with a dash of sexy– a match made in heaven! You slid a wad of cash across the counter to the gentleman in exchange for a paper bag for your other clothes and were quickly out the door.

Clutching the bag, you navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and main roads of Saint Denis in search of your girls, thinking just when you found them, it was just another bunch that looked similar from afar. Head on a swivel, you did your best to avoid getting distracted by the lively celebrations around you, despite your strong desire to join in.

So set on your mission, you didn’t even think to look both ways before nearly stepping in front of an oncoming trolley– being saved by a large hards on your arm and waist.

“Oh!–” You palm flew over your chest as you gasped, “I– Thank you! I didn’t even see where I was going!”

“Quite some timing there,” the figure chuckled, “we just got here.”

We?

Looking up, you were met with Charles looking down at you with a kind smile, putting you at ease. In the not-so-far distance, you saw Dutch, Jack, and Kieran hitching their horses and making their way over to you.

“I see you girls have been busy!” Dutch declared as he grandly gestured to your new clothes. “Having fun I hope?”

You nodded politely. Fun and causing trouble, but who were you to spill about that?

A satisfied grin crossed his face, “We’re off to meet the others at Mayor Lemieux. Care to join us, Miss?”

Reuniting with the rest of the gang? Say less.

Before you could answer, you remembered the bag in your hand and looked down at it, your thoughts not lost on the men around you. Not that your old clothes were worth much in a town like Saint Denis, but they were still yours.

“You three go on, we’ll meet you there.” Charles insisted to Dutch, then turned to you as they walked away. “You can leave your stuff with me, it’ll be safe.”

You smiled as he just knew what to do, the protective side of the men you always appreciated. A short walk over to the stables, where he insisted on keeping his horse rather than in the open, and stowing your things later, you were back on track to the mansion district– after some jokes about all the wealth you’d been carrying, of course, and keeping a couple pieces on you for when you saw your market friend.

You marveled at the increasing crowd in the town– kids’ laughter echoed through the streets that mingled with the roars and singing reverberating from every saloon, and occasionally, there were startled shrieks of terror caused by juveniles of the night. You made comments about the atmosphere and were very careful to stay out of the way of the ongoing trolleys, a small inside joke brewing between you both.

In Charles, you felt a strong sense of safety and trust. He was one of the few men you believed to be genuinely good, his only flaw being part of a criminal gang, but even that could be justified with loyalty. He was kind and respectful, not just towards women, but towards everyone. He was someone to have on your side, always.

“So, is everyone really out here?” You inquired, “I didn’t think that Dutch could really rally everyone up to come into town.”

“For the most part,” Charles shrugged, “a couple of them wanted to stay and watch camp. Said they weren’t too big on celebrating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who decided to hang back?”

Charles chuckled and glanced at you, teasing, “What’s got you so curious? Expecting somebody?"

Your cheeks burned at his question. You hadn’t been thinking of him until this very moment.

“Maybe I was praying for a miracle that Micah didn’t come.”

He laughed louder this time, “Well, it was answered.”

You cracked a smile at your banter, but now your mind was totally elsewhere and remained that way well into the district, the buzzing of your thoughts stopping at the front entrance of Mayor Lemieux’s estate.

Before you was a huge mansion, white with pillars supporting the sprawling balcony that extended to each side of the house and a wide staircase that led up to an opulent wrap-around porch. From the outside alone, you could tell that every inch of this property was occupied between the amount of people and staff.

Charles led the way into the estate, making sure you didn’t lose him along the way as you looked about. You thought the exterior was grand enough already, but the interior proved to be much more. The flooring in each room varied, from carpet, to tile, to wood– all extravagant. As soon as you stepped inside, a staircase greeted you and split off into two more on each side for the second level, all lined with a rich red and gold carpet. The walls were lined with exquisite light fixtures and portraits of people you couldn’t even begin to name, and an enormous chandelier hung over the center of the entrance, adding to the luxurious ambiance.

Making your way to the back, you grabbed a drink and some hors d’oeuvres off a tray from a nearby server, nursing the drink and nibbling on the food a little bit at a time. As if you thought the place couldn’t be anymore rich, the gazebo and water fountain in the backyard told you otherwise. It was also now that you noticed that the estate had been on the water which reinforced its extravagance. Every single detail had been thought out to make this place the go-to spot for the people of Saint Denis between the assortment of food and beverages, games, decorations– everything.

Your favorite part, though? Finding your people again.

The girls cheered as you locked eyes at the same time, flocking to you and immediately forcing you to spin to show off your attire for the evening. Charles rejoined Dutch, Jack, and Kieran again as they watched you five with amused expressions.

“Next time, we’re comin’ with,” Sadie raised her glass to yours, “five minutes my ass.”

You sheepishly smiled at her and clinked your glass against hers while looking around, “Where’s everyone else? Charles said-”

“There she is!”

Your voice froze as you heard the familiar sound of a particular woman, turning around to meet them.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

Your face dropped.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

She took complete pleasure in your utter surprise, sporting a smirk as she sipped from a glass of dark liquid. You approached her, gesturing to say something, but words eluded you, earning a chuckle from her. She savored her drink and waited patiently, her smug expression unyielding until you finally found your voice.

“I didn’t think you wanted to-”

“Celebrate the Day of the Dead? I don’t.” You raised your eyebrows at her bluntness. She took a few steps towards you, “But it beats bein’ in that camp for once. And free drinks ain’t so bad either”

There’s the Susan Grimshaw you knew.

You were quiet as she surveyed your attire, ruffling your sleeve from awkward creases and smoothing it afterwards. Her gaze drew up to your face, looking everywhere but your eyes, making sure all your hairs were in place and that you didn’t just walk straight out of a barn. She placed her fingers under your chin and tilted up to her.

“Don’t be dumb. Don’t be stupid. And don’t go diggin’ up graves. Ya’ hear me?”

You smirked. “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes as her hand dropped, smacking you on the shoulder. “Lord, y’all are the reason I have all these grays.”

She winked at you as she moved on from your conversation, and when you turned back to your friends, they had vanished.

Again.

You let out a suppressed laugh at the circumstances. Of course– if you weren’t glued to their hip, you were bound to lose them. And with as many people there were, finding them again wouldn’t be easy. So, you chose not to.

Swiping another drink from a passing server, you wandered about the property and drank while you observed the various scenes that played out. Suited men overindulging in beers and politics, staff lingering in the corner and gossiping in hushed tones, and young women trying to appear more desirable by loosening buttons or letting a sleeve slip off their shoulders.

The further into the night, the more increasingly bold and uninhibited people became, embracing the wicked and mischievous aspects of the holiday. You noticed it more as you went about the district, slipping in and out without attracting much attention– a level of anonymity you found strangely enjoyable.

The only interruptions were the occasional sightings of familiar faces when you were least expecting them– like Lenny and Kieran on the corner of a saloon, or Karen and Sean talking it up on the staircase of another mansion. Despite their lack of acknowledgement, you still grinned towards them and continued your exploration.

As you came across one of the last estates, you’d barely stepped foot on the property before hearing your name shouted out, causing you to jump.

“Over here, Miss!”

Realizing it to be Dutch beckoning you over, you relaxed and crossed the yard to join at his side, accompanied by a few unfamiliar men. You graciously made their acquaintance and accepted a drink offered by Dutch.

“Gentlemen, this here is one of Van Der Linde’s finest.” He bowed to you, eliciting a shy chuckle out of you, “Truly, she’s one of a kind.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” the man to your left winked in your direction. He extended his hand to you, “It’s a shame we haven’t met earlier.”

He was conventionally attractive; kept hair, clean shaven, chiseled features, well dressed. His accent you couldn’t particularly place but found it interesting nonetheless– carrying a definitive air of sophistication.

Taking his hand, he brought it up to his face and kissed the top of it– an act that normally would be acceptable, but you got an icky feeling from him. You bowed your head only to be polite, finding words unnecessary.

“What do you say, dear, let me take you for a drink and have the privilege of getting to know all about Van Der Linde’s finest?”

The bold request had you raising your eyebrows and an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You flushed with embarrassment, was this really happening right now, especially in front of Dutch? It felt so wrong. You didn’t realize how long you’d been silent until another voice interjected.

“She ain’t interested.”

Your eyes widened and back straightened at the deep drawl.

Arthur.

His imposing presence settled beside you, taking the opportunity to steal a glance at him while he was focused on the gentleman before you. It turned into a double-take once you realized what he was wearing.

His hands held his trusty gun belt over a pair of dark pants– jeans, maybe, but it was hard to discern in the dim light. He swapped his typical suspenders for a ragged dark brown leather belt, a unique change yet fitting one. And his shirt– God, his shirt– a white and red gingham button-up that he filled out perfectly with cuffed sleeves. Now that was different, and probably not his preferred style deep down, but you loved it. Even his hat was different, trading his father’s for a much fancier one with a wide front dip and roll, as well as the band featuring brass rifle bullets.

You couldn’t help but gawk. He looked so damn good, and also the only one out of the gang that actually dressed up for the occasion.

“Last I checked, I was speaking to the lady.” The gentleman puffed his chest a bit, elegantly gesturing to you.

Arthur chuckled lowly, his demeanor remaining cool, “Yeah, well, last I checked the lady wasn’t talkin’ back.”

The gentleman, clearly insulted, narrowed his eyes on Arthur as his fingers pinched the stem of his wine glass– the difference between their behaviors clear as day. During their small exchange, you kept your eyes on your hands that held a drink, though you weren’t interested in it much at the moment.

“It’s clear you’ve made her uncomfortable with your poor manners,” the irony of his words made the faintest smile curl on your lips.

Arthur laughed louder, turning to you and draping a hand behind your back while the other settled on his belt still, “Miss, have I made you uncomfortable with my poor manners?”

You met his gaze with a knowing look, biting your lip to fend off the smile that was deepening at him fucking with the man. You knew the answer, and so did Arthur, and you got a kick out of his way of making him look like a fool.

“What poor manners?” You raised your drink to your lips to further conceal your amusement while maintaining eye contact with Arthur, a smirk appearing on his face.

“See? She just ain’t wanna talk to you.” Arthur’s hand pressed against your back, directing you to move, while he tipped his head and gestured a farewell, “Now, you gentlemen have a fine night.”

As you walked further away you could hear bits and pieces of Dutch attempting to soothe the situation, which, to you, sounded like a lot of ass-kissing to salvage whatever relations he had built with those men before suffering a blow from Arthur.

Speaking of him– your skin was warm where his hand touched and guided you, steady as he maneuvered you both through the crowds. It was reminiscent of the feeling you’d had with Charles earlier, but with Arthur, it was different– more intense. Even from behind, you could sense his frame towering over you, feeling a warmth in your cheeks just at the thought of his broadness alone. He mumbled a series of ‘excuse us’ and ‘watch out’ as you moved along into the backyard, the scene nearly the same compared to Mayor Lemieux’s, of course the obvious difference was the actual yard itself.

It was only when you were nearly at the back that his hand dropped from you as he rested against a pillar, his eyes carefully scanning through the sea of people before returning to you.

“M’sorry about that,” his sincerity was evident. “Dutch’s been with ‘em all night, and I ain’t got a very good feeling about it.”

You appreciated his apology though it wasn’t really necessary. His intent was clear, and you admired him for it.

“Well, I’d say you’re my knight in shining armor, but it’s looking more like..” Your eyes danced around his attire again with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he shook his head and put his bottle to his lips, giving you a fine sight to see. “S’your fault I’m wearin this get-up, by the way.”

He pointed at you while leaning back, shifting his weight to one foot with the other crossed in front of it. His arms crossed against his chest in a way made his arms look ridiculously big, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this man didn’t have women lining up for him around the block.

“Oh, you say it like it’s a bad thing,” you retorted, taking a sip from your glass before gesturing to yourself. “And you’re not the only one, see?”

With a graceful twirl, you spun around, allowing your skirt to flare for a flashy effect. Arthur couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

“Are you supposed to be somethin’, or?” There was a genuine curiosity in his tone that had you raising your brows, which caused him to stutter. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong! It looks, you look–”

A laugh from you calmed his nerves, “I’m not, I just wanted to be festive, is all.”

He nodded and shifted his weight to the other foot, casting his gaze towards the crowd again. An awkward silence filled the space for a moment.

“What about you? What’s your get-up?” You grinned as he rolled his eyes at his word choice for costume. “And don’t say a cowboy.”

He fell quiet.

“An outlaw?”

Your laughter mingled in the air with Arthur’s, seeing a dash of red spread across his cheeks. It was exactly the kind of answer you had expected.

As it died down, his attention returned to the yard, and you couldn’t help but look at him. With his rugged looks, quick wit, and heart of gold, it was hard not to feel something for him. And for how much you were having a good time in the short duration you were with him, you couldn’t believe he ever protested coming out here.

Your heart fluttered for him. He could’ve been anywhere else right now, either at camp or drinking and getting into trouble, but yet he stayed with you, and it didn’t look like he was leaving your side anytime soon.

“Arthur–”

“We gotta move–”

The sudden urgency in his voice caught you off-guard. He stood from the pillar and a protective hand was on your back again, preparing to lead you away once more. Both of your gazes were fixed on several unfriendly-looking staff members who were combing through people with lanterns– grabbing them by the shoulder, holding the light to their face, then carelessly throwing them aside when they weren’t the face they were looking for.

Just your luck.

Quickly, Arthur guided you down the steps and to the right to what you assumed was a storage house. You kept an eye out while he found a way in, though your panic rose as they kept sweeping the yard and moving closer.

“Arthur, any day now would be gr–”

He pulled your arm into darkness and swung the door shut, immediately blocking it with an object that was too dark for you to see. The space was much smaller than you imagined and quite stuffy, the music and conversation muffled to your ears now.

Your heart hammered in your chest, surely this wasn’t because of a bruise to the ego? But then again, these rich folk seemed sensitive. You joined Arthur at the small window, just peeking around the curtain to watch the unwelcomed company grow closer, “Some staff this place has.”

“This place belongs to Angelo Bronté. And that ain’t staff.”

You scoffed, “Who?”

“Somebody we ain't need to piss off.”

You faced him, “And let me guess, you pissed him off somehow?”

As he turned to you, you became acutely aware of the lack of distance between you both. Just the slight inch forward and–

No– now was not the time to lust over him, even if your body was giving you all the telltale signs, especially the fire that burned in your core. But it didn’t help when he smirked at you for an answer, the dim illumination of half his face making him look criminally more attractive. You groaned at the overall situation– grappling with your desires and figuring how it wouldn’t be a true Van Der Linde outing if someone didn’t cause trouble.

Your fingers curled around the curtain as you watched them gather near where you’d been standing no more than ten minutes ago. Glancing back, you noticed another window that would lead just over the wall– your escape.

“Hey, there’s a–”

“Where'd you get that?”

You knitted your brows in confusion at him, letting a beat pass before seeing where his eyes had been glued to– your hand on the curtain.

The ring.

The dim light from outside still made it twinkle in the darkness of the room, catching his attention. You glanced at it before redirecting your gaze to the henchmen that had now come down the stairs and searched the opposite side of the patio behind some barrels. It was only a matter of time before they came looking where you were.

“Someone gave it to me, but listen–”

“Who gave it to you? His voice was insistent as he stared at you intently.

You stared back dumbfounded. Between wanting to have him right in this storage house and your pursuers less than twenty yards away, you couldn’t comprehend he was pestering you about this right now.

Letting out a huff, you blindly reached around for anything to give you a boost, finding your footing and hoisting upwards to reach the higher window. With one arm supporting yourself, the other made work with the pane, pushing it up little by little. It proved to be more difficult than you expected from its old age and scarce use. Your heart raced when you heard the twisting of the door knob and voices from the outside congregating around it.

Shit.

With a final push, you opened it all the way, whispering urgently, “C’mon!”

Arthur followed swiftly after you, his plunge to the ground a bit more graceful than yours, but certain he wasn’t looking anyway. Just as hit feet hit the ground, you heard the door bust open from inside, followed by several heavy footsteps and angry voices.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the right to run down the street, bumping into townsfolk along the way and hearing their unpleasant words go in one ear and out the other. But they weren’t the only ones disgruntled– so were more henchmen that were right after you. How many people did this guy have?

Your muttered profanity let Arthur know that trouble was on your tail, tightening his grip on your hand and looking for any way out.

An intersection was coming up as you ran further into Saint Denis, which meant more people, more places to hide, and more–

“Trolley!”

You pointed at it as it was approaching too quickly for your liking, hoping Arthur would see and redirect your route. But instead, he tugged for you to run faster.

“We’re not gonna–”

“Just trust me!”

Your eyes darted from the street ahead to the trolley, panic at an all time high as you were essentially running to your certain death.

You squinted as the bright lights blinded you, your legs pumping as fast as they could, and your shriek swallowed by the horn of the machine– you accepted your fate as an oversized bug smeared across its windshield.

You felt your body jerked to the side and slam against concrete. You were disoriented, your senses in chaos. This was it. The afterlife already– dark, cold, and full of..

Ragged breathing?

“Goddamn...” Arthur’s voice reached your ears.

You shot your eyes open at Arthur’s rasp, your heart painfully thumping in your chest and lungs aching with every breath. You heaved and peered around the corner to see Bronté’s men grouped in the street looking for a sign of either of you, but their efforts yielded nothing. WIth an angered look of defeat, they turned back towards the estate, and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

When you turned back, Arthur stood close to you, his gaze drawn to the men then falling to you after.

“You,” you poked at his chest, “are absolutely insane. Never make me do that again!”

“Remember,” his hand reached up for yours, “I’m an outlaw, not a liar.”

You shared a soft laugh, captivated by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the soothing timbre of his voice. Your gaze shifted down to your conjoined hands, appreciating the gentle way he held yours despite his larger and rougher ones. His skin was warm against yours, and although you expected fireworks, it was more like a softness, surrendering to its familiarity despite never having experienced it before.

Lightly, his thumb grazed your palm and stopped at the band around your finger, gently turning your hand over so that the design was visible. He examined it closely, tracing the delicate details with his thumb.

“A woman in the market here gave it to me... Told her I couldn’t afford it, but she wanted me to keep it– insisted on it.”

He continued to look at it, taking in all the tiny details as best as he could in the dark alley. A faint smile appeared on his lips as his thumb ran over it, “Sounds like it was meant to be.”

His choice of words resonated with you, reaffirming the same feeling you’d had when you first tried it on.

A chuckle and grin from you caused him to tilt his head with a playful expression, slightly leaning closer to you, “What?”

You glanced at the ring and back to him, briefly holding your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. Your gaze flickered from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up again.

“You believe in fate, Arthur Morgan?”

His smile faded and eyes slightly widened, but your soft gaze remained steady on him. Your hands left his and traveled to his shoulders, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles. His breathing quickened, especially after the sudden touch. He stared deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that would tell him it was all in his head, but it wasn’t. You knew what you were asking.

He lowered his head for a moment, his expression softening under your touch and drawing closer to you. When he met your eyes again, a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face as his hands found themselves under your elbows.

Being involved with someone like him came with hardships for both sides– a lifestyle that one had to keep and the other suffered because of it. It wasn’t fair, eternally caught in moral dilemmas and forever denied the chance to settle down. There wasn’t the luxury to cherry-pick from life’s offerings, to have it all. This was his life, and he carried the weight of it heavily.

“I don’t believe in a lot of things,”

But you didn’t care. You had embraced a life similar to his, akin to that of the Van Der Linde gang. If you hadn’t, would you all have winded up together anyway?

You understood the unconventional life you all led, far from the standard, civilized existence that others pursued. But it worked for you, and you had each other to rely on, and that’s what truly mattered. You saw beyond the surface, beyond the cold outlaw label that clung to him, a man with flaws and virtues. Maybe he lost his temper too quickly at times or wielded a sharp tongue, but beneath it all, there was love, kindness, and a sense of honor that ran deep within him.

The world may have painted him as the Devil incarnate, but you knew him differently. He was a good man, capable of both selfless kindness and quiet introspection. In your heart, you held this belief, and nothing could change that.

Life had conspired to bring you together. And in that union, there was fate.

“But I have my exceptions.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours, his arms snaking behind and around as yours curled over his shoulders.

It was slow and sweet just like how you imagined he would be– taking his time to know your body and touch. His hands spread along your back and held you protectively, your bodies melting into one another. The breaks between were short, too focused on the fact this was happening to pay attention to anything else but each other. Your hand moved to his cheek and ran your thumb along his beard, earning a hum of pleasure from the small act and had you smiling against his lips.

When you finally broke, you rested foreheads together, pushing up his hat slightly in the process. Even in a dark alley, you could still make out his bright blue eyes and a deep shade of red gracing his skin. You couldn’t even begin to conceal your toothy grin, nor could he.

“I have my exceptions, too.”

His hand reached up and curled around yours, “Hope I’m the only one, then.”

You pecked his lips before stepping back and lacing your fingers with his, gently tugging to walk, “I’ll think about it.”

He rolled his eyes at your wink but still grinned, happily following you around wherever you dragged him to. Slipping between alleys, you merged yourselves with the lively nightlife again– the same sights you saw during the day looked even better now.

As you strolled through the town hand-in-hand, a sense of domesticity settled upon you. Tonight, you weren’t part of a highly wanted gang, you were just another pair in the streets of Saint Denis– clinging to his arm, catching snippets of entertainment through saloon doors, and getting the other’s attention when something of interest was spotted.

One of the things you enjoyed most was Arthur’s reactions to when kids jumped out to scare you both, a prank played on anyone who dared to walk the particular stretch of the street. The younger the prankster, the more dramatic Arthur’s responses became. He would place a hand over his heart and tightly cling to you with feigned disbelief, saying things like “Haven’t been scared like that in years!” or, “Never even saw ‘em comin!” before saying some words of encouragement that fueled the next scare.

Teenage boys who attempted the same stunt received a more wary reception from Arthur, recognizing their motives often stemmed from a desire to appear cool in front of friends or impress girls, and that their pranks were much more juvenile. In most cases, his glare and sheer size alone were enough to send them fleeing, but those who dared to persist were subjected to his quick tongue and left them retreating like chastened dogs with their tails between their legs. Your laughter always followed the encounter, adding to the lingering sting of Arthur’s verbal reprimand.

Eventually, your route had led you near the markets again, and you eagerly pulled Arthur along to find your favorite stand. He chuckled and followed your lead as you navigated through the crowd, your excitement palpable.

“Oh please tell me you stole him!” Came a familiar voice around the corner.

You smiled at the sight of her and approached, seeing that her table had been decently cleared, a sign of a good night for profits.

Arthur politely tipped his head towards her with a shy smile, “Afraid it’s the other way around, ma’am.”

You felt a warmth on your cheeks at his answer and gently squeezed his hand before letting it go to dig out your promises tucked expertly within your clothing. “But I do come bearing gifts!”

Her playful frown turned up into genuine surprise at your reveal of assorted jewelry and trinkets– indeed impressed with your take as it was more than she anticipated. Carefully, she examined each one before placing them with her own wares for sale, whispering a praise about the item while doing so. As she spoke, her eyes flitted about her table, her gestures revealing a hint of embarrassment.

“I apologize that I don’t have more to offer, dear,” her eyebrows furrowed apologetically, “but please, do take whatever you like.”

You glanced over the table, hesitating as you hovered a hand over an item before retracting it, shaking your head slowly. The woman and Arthur exchanged puzzled glances, the woman’s expression now tinged with concern.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight, I’ll be here–”

“It’s quite alright,” you replied sweetly, though the confusion was still apparent in her expression. “I just wanted to repay you.”

She layered her hands over her chest in gratitude, and you felt the act of pure kindness from one human to another to be worth more than any dollar bill or piece of gold.

You also knew that besides the girls, each member that was out had surely pickpocketed or gambled their way into getting a cut for themselves and camp.

Her eyes peered over to Arthur for a moment, his posture straightening when she pointed a motherly finger at him. “Don’t let this one go, you hear?”

You giggled at her demand, and another wave of red kissing his cheeks only added to your amusement as he tipped his head at her once again.

Slowly, you exchanged goodbyes as Arthur placed a hand on your lower back and subtly scooched you along– only for it to be an excuse to slip a wad of cash towards the woman without you noticing. Her hands were quick to replace the cash in his hands for something small and delicate into his, darting her eyes between your turned figure and him before shooting a wink. Without looking, Arthur knew exactly what she gave him, and placed it right in his pocket before giving you his full attention as you continued through the strip.

A warm smile graced your lips as Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist and he planted a gentle kiss on your head, feeling a tiny swarm of butterflies in your chest. His attention made you feel important with the way he had to touch you, like he needed everyone to see you on his arm, proud to have you by his side.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t suppress the heaviness of your eyelids. You tried to hide your yawns that wouldn’t stop coming after the initial one, but Arthur noticed after the second one. After exploring nearly all the sights of Saint Denis, with the exception of the mansion district, of which you had wisely avoided for the rest of the evening, he convinced you to rest at a hotel for the night. You protested at first, but another yawn and knowing look from him persuaded you to give in.

He’d slipped the clerk a little more than the average room cost, wanting you to have the best possible after such a physically taxing day. The clerk, more than willing to oblige, had graciously handed over the keys.

While the lofty bed and opulent room details were certainly appealing, you immediately took to the private balcony that gave the perfect view over the town, allowing you to continue enjoying the night from the comfort of your room. Your skirt fluttered in the breeze, mirroring the movement of the curtains as you leaned against the iron railing. A soft, ambient glow illuminated your figure, creating a picturesque scene that Arthur couldn’t help but admire– a sight he would undoubtedly sketch later.

He joined at your side, his presence reassuring as he brushed against your shoulder. You continued to gaze down at the bustling town below, the sounds of murmured conversation and laughter from the open buildings– mostly taverns and saloons– filling the night air. You rested your head against Arthur’s shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

“I know I acted like I didn’t wanna come out here tonight,” he mentioned as he looked down at you, meeting your gaze that reaffirmed his statement that pulled a smile from him. “But I’m glad I did.”

Adjusting to face him properly, he snaked his arm around you as he did the same, drawing you closer to him with a soft, affectionate look. You brushed noses as you settled in his space, your lips mere centimeters from his.

“I’m glad you did too.”

Your lips locked in a passionate embrace, and the cheers and woos from below had reached your ears, causing both of you to break into smiles at the unexpected audience. But he paid no heed to the commotion as he pulled you in for more, his hands finding your face to deepen your connection.

In a brief moment of separation, you took the opportunity to give him a suggestive smirk and nod to the room that told him everything he needed to know– quickly peppering kisses along your jaw and neck before swiftly sweeping you off your feet and right into bed.

If tonight proved one thing, it was that you needed to get out of camp more often.

Especially with Arthur.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fic #rdr2 #halloween fic

[stirringwinds]

I know it was a little while ago but your Portugal always cracks me up so bad, especially when he's lowkey trying to get a certain Dutch man beheaded 😂. I am so in love with the way I can see the cheekiness and cunning under the god-fearing, oh so very modest uniform and facade. One look at him and I'm thinking ohh he is so naughty, but I can also understand why Kiku would have him around. Same here Kiku, that little shit has charm even if he is a lot more transparent then he might know.

nedpan has me by the braincells lol, so naturally I'm biased towards it over portpan but I'm definitely here for integrating in portugal-japan interactions too because there’s so much history there 🤔 im still thinking about his characterisation, but I envision port back then as someone whose smile can feel like the sun—but then you realise it’s all sharp teeth. he’s a shark in a priest’s garb, and Kiku knows it—so I feel like Kiku doesn't trust him at all, compared to how imo, he eventually comes to trust Ned/Jan in a way that's pretty emotionally intimate due to very unique circumstances. And that difference is interesting to think about. 16th century Kiku's very much the sharp-eyed shogun-type of figure who enjoys falconry in his free time but is also preoccupied thinking about his enemies (foreign and domestic), given the nature of feudal Japan then. that sort of calculation and tight-fisted attitude towards trust is to a great degree, also the baseline norm for helltalias dealing with each other in the 1500s and 1700s. It’s not too different from how Yong-Soo regards Kiku, for example.

So, Kiku's always guarded whenever Port is around especially given the successful proselytisation of Portuguese priests, but he's perfectly amenable to dealing with and learning from him. for guns (and castella cakes and konpeito), as any pragmatic 16th century Japanese warlord does. Port can be a good and charming salesman and company. he probably does have more of that polish and charisma compared to Ned's rougher, blunt straightforwardness, and Kiku does recognise that. both as a 'well he's an entertaining presence at times' but it also makes him more watchful.

16th century Kiku is also frankly, an ambitious bastard himself: a fair amount of the firearms used in the Imjin War against Joseon Korea and Ming China were either Portuguese-made or manufactured in Japan based on Portuguese designs. Port's 'HELLO have you heard of our lord and saviour' got a very cool 'if you are not going to talk about the shipment of arquebuses i ordered, then we are quite done' from Kiku, but i think Kiku did learn a fair bit about Catholic theology all the same, given the significant numbers of Japanese converts and the long history of Japan studying foreign ideas (Buddhism being an import from India via China and Korea). So yes there’s quite an interesting history. Ambitious, pragmatic and shrewd shogun vs proselytising, charismatic catholic ship captain is the dynamic.

#hetalia #hws japan #hws portugal #hws netherlands

[bwoahtastic]

Charles is obsessed with Max in heat. He gets a thrill whenever Max moans Charles’ name as Toto fucks him. When Max is a bit more lucid they have little chats and it’s all so domestic. Max is so clingy throughout, constantly wanting to be in someone’s lap. His pussy pressed to Charles’ thigh and Charles knows another wave is about to hit when the slick starts dripping from him. There’s also so many toys that Charles almost loses his mind. Toto has a closet full of sex toys. He’s heard of alphas using toys on their omegas during heat to give them time to recover but some of the toys make his eyes pop out of his head. Charles catches sight of a pretty collar in the corner with Max’s name on the tag and he’s so curious to know what the two of them get up to. Clearly he’s had the wrong impression of his bestie. Max is fast asleep on the bed with a huge knotted dildo in his pussy. His perfect pink lips stretched so wide over the base. But Max is a horny fucker even in his sleep and humps the bed every now and then, whining when he doesn’t feel one of them close. Charles thought that anal was just something they did occasionally so he’s very surprised when Toto begins to open Max up using his slick. Max is whining for it, spreading his legs as wide as he can while he rests against Charles’ chest. The huge toy is still in his pussy as Toto preps him. Charles musters up the courage to play with Max’s tits and clit. Max’s whole body shakes against his as he comes from their fingers. Max and Toto have completely ruined him for any other alpha or omega. He wants a chance to play with all of their toys and spend his heat with them, he can’t even imagine how amazing Toto’s rut must feel like. There’s so many things he wants to try and at the top of his list he wants to get a strap so he can properly fuck Max alongside Toto and he wants to get his body ready to take Toto’s knot.

Pllss Charles would be so in awe of them like this! It's another show of how well they fit together, how in tune they are and also how HOT they are lol.

Max is so clingy when he is more lucid, wanting to be cuddled between them and resting his head on Charles's chest or shoulder while Toto spoons him from behind. Toto also seeks contact with Charles a little, reaching over to leave a big hand on his hip when they are cuddling or stroking his soft hair and it makes Charles shudder! He feels Max getting wet against his thighcand knows its time to go again, max's heat is more stubborn than the Dutch omega himself and isn't breaking any time soon!

Toto showing Charles the closet with the sex toys (or the sex room cos ofc he has one, in heat max needs to be fucked on the bed tho cos it's so exhausying) while Max is asleep with the biggest knotting dildo Charles has seen in his pussy, stretched tight around it. Charles looks around wide eyed at the dildos and vibrator, wips and ropes, and the neat selection of collars with Max's name on them. Toto sees him looking at those and promise he will explain in detail when Max wears them later lol.

Max still with the huge dildo in him getting restless, and sighing happily when Toto starts opening his ass up using his own slick, telling Charles Max needs to be satisfied and used everywhere! Max slumped against Charles's chest when Toto fucks his ass, and Charles dares to reach down, touch Max's clit and feel where his pussy is stretched around the toy and Max cums squirting over his hand!

Charles getting so,turned on but he isnt focused on his own pleasure, but when Toto offers to eat him out while Max is resting, ofcourse Charles won't say no, shyly parting his legs and blushing profusely as Toto takes a good long look st him and slowly leans down to lick a stripe over his wet pussy.

Charles truly is ruined, he can't imagine ever wanting anyone else again! He feels like it's fated, he wants them both so bad and wants to explore life with them! He wants to wake up snuggled between them, wants to try and cook for them and wants to snuggle with them on the sofa. And he also really wants to have more sex eith them, writhe around with Max, get his body ready to take Toto and use the strap he saw in the sex room to fuck Max.

He wants to get railed into oblivion during Toto's rut, wants to get spoiled by both during his heat and he also never wants to miss out on Max's heat again!

He is theirs, if they will have him for real, and he justnso hopes they will!

#asks #charlesmaxtoto #smut

[qvietflight]

Im really late to the party, so someone might have mentioned this already and I just didn't see it. It isnt a theory in and of itself, just a little tidbit, but I keep turning it over in my head anyway.

Leander is chalk full of so much symbolism already, but he is presented as the (most?) human monster of the LIs. He is also the only character with green eyes, which feature in his monster silhouette. A literal reference to "the green eyed monster" that is envy.

Like i said, just a tidbit, but I wonder and wonder and wonder how that ties into the way his character is written.

Does anyone else just look things up while having casual thoughts? I went to wikipedia to look up envy just for funsies and then realized maybe my thoughts arent so casual anymore lol.

It was interesting to read about healthy envy vs unhealthy envy. The Dutch apparently have two explicitly different words for these concepts, which is cool. Essentially the former is envy that inspires a person to be or do better when faced with someone else's good fortune. The latter describes negative self-comparisons and desire to punish others for their good fortune. Also; "As children get older they develop stronger non-materialistic envy such as romantic relationships, physical appearance, achievement, and popularity."

The writers obviously didnt skimp on Leanders good looks, but it will he pretty cool to see how they play with the other three. Someone else already wrote the coolest analysis of Ais vs Leander and Leanders need to impress/appease others. I dont have it on hand because Im on mobile, but I also wont try to rehash it because Im far less articulate. I do think, however, that that desire to appease everyone at all times probably stems from a desire to be popular.

For all that he appears to be competent and well liked, consciously or subconsciously it seems like he might be making up for some kind of negative self comparison somewhere. Why tho?

Just so much to chew on. ugh.

#touchstarved game #touchstarved theory #tlk to text.exe

[dutchvanwinkle]

Your work is amazing! Would you do a fic following the horse race Dutch initiates with Arthur? Dutch says if Arthur wins he can have whatever he wants and vice versa. Arthur wins and once they go to Dutch’s tent he asks Dutch if he could kiss him (whilst finally confessing how long he has been pining after Dutch). How it goes and how far it goes is up to you!

I'm so sorry this took me so long anon - this was quite a challenge to write and different to my usual stuff but I ended up enjoying the process! However, I do apologise if it sucks lol. Thanks for the lovely compliment ♡

It's up on ao3 too.

All I Have - Arthur x Dutch

Summary: The loser of Arthur and Dutch's horse race in chapter 3 has to do one thing at the request of the other. Arthur wins, and asks for something he's wanted for a long time.

Word count: 4,695

Content warnings: None

Arthur had no time for the town of Rhodes. It was too hot, too muggy, and its residents were disagreeable at best.  

He had even less time for the stupid jobs the gang were running for the local sheriff.  

And now, with sweat pooling all down his back and his knees aching from being crouched for so long, he had to admit that the reward of a wagon full of moonshine was almost worth it. It would’ve been, if he didn’t know he’d be running some other fool’s errand within the next twenty-four hours. 

There was no room for complaining, though. The gang was having a hard enough time as it was, and the sooner they could line their pockets with cash, the sooner Arthur could be out of this hellhole and somewhere he could breathe. But, even if there was room for complaining, Arthur knew deep down that he wouldn’t bother Dutch with his bellyaching. The man had always done right by him, pulling the pair out of tough scrapes and bouncing out the other side. Sure, there had been (many) times Arthur wanted to throw Dutch’s plans back in his face, but when the man approached him with a spark in his eyes and eagerness in his voice it was impossible to say no. Arthur would do anything for Dutch, and that wasn’t a mutable fact.

And when Dutch's face lit up at the realisation that for all it was, Rhodes was a town filled with stupidity that could be easily swindled, the aches in Arthur’s bones from a day's work somehow eased.

“Come on,” he clapped a loving hand to Arthur’s shoulder, “you ride with me.” 

Arthur dipped his head to hide the blush on his cheeks under the brim of his hat, while the two mounted up and Dutch gave his orders to Bill on what to do with the moonshine. 

While he was a self-professed fool, Arthur wasn’t foolish enough to not see the change incurring in Dutch’s personality over the past few months. Something in the back of his mind itched, trying to get his attention and repeatedly told him that the man’s misjudgement is going to be more of a problem than he initially thought. So, hearing Dutch talk about these two local feuding families and all the opportunities that came with them, quietened those doubts and brought forward something soft and comforting in Arthur’s chest. Perhaps it was all a small phase after all. 

“This is startin’ to sound like the young Dutch again,” Arthur snickered, spurring his horse on to keep pace with The Count. 

“What do you mean, young Dutch? I’m as strong as I have ever been,” Dutch threw him an offended look, and it never failed to amaze Arthur just how quickly the man’s expression could drop from happy as a clam in high water to as unhappy as a clam... on dry land, he guessed. Arthur never was one for meaningful prose. 

“Hey,” Dutch started again, a smile growing on his face once more as he eyed the path ahead, “you know what, why don’t I race you back?” 

“A race? Your pride really that hurt?” 

“This has nothing to do with pride, my boy. Just a bit of friendly competition,” Dutch raised his brows, challenging Arthur with his gaze if not with his words. “Don’t be a spoilsport. Tell you what, if you win you can have whatever you want.” 

“Whatever I want?” Arthur’s mind dove into a sea of desires, from a new pair of spurs to a new repeater he’d been eyeing in the gunsmith. Or, perhaps he could mock Dutch a little and get him to do his laundry. Or perhaps he could... 

No, not that. 

It wouldn’t matter either way, Dutch was as talented on horseback as he was everything else, and while Arthur too could navigate a mount better than most, he wasn’t sure if Dutch’s age had lessened his aptitude that much. It’d be a close one, but Arthur thought too highly of his mentor to assume he could surpass him. 

“Jesus, Arthur, don’t spend too long thinking about it. And remember, if and when I win, I get whatever I want,” Dutch reminded him smugly, slowing The Count to a walk. 

Of course, no deal with reward and without risk existed when it came to Dutch. 

“Okay,” Arthur conceded, knowing that whatever Dutch wanted from him would be a better fate than the man calling him yellow for the next week. “You’re on.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Dutch gleamed, “Okay. On my word... set... go!” 

And The Count was off, kicking up dust and leaving Arthur squinting to shield his eyes as his opponent got a starting lead. He bristled, bringing his reins down on his horse with the aim of at least catching up with him. 

“You never were much of a rider!” Dutch called as he turned at the fork. 

Something inside Arthur shifted at Dutch’s winning form ahead of him, and the adrenaline of competition and the prospect of having him in his favour surged through his veins. Arthur kicked his horse’s sides harder like he only did when running from the law and grinned when he reached his side. “We’ll see about that!” he cried, slipping past The Count as the trees lining the edge of the forest to his left blurred into only moving colours.  

He could’ve sworn Dutch yelled something back, but the sound from the train on the overhead tracks drowned it out regardless. It’d been a while since the two had done anything like this, and the rush from it was like nothing else. Continuing to gain on Dutch, Arthur yelled over his shoulder before reaching a farm. 

“Any time you wanna stop for a breather, you let me know.” 

Hoping the man heard but uncaring for his reaction, Arthur weaved between the bales of hay and grazing sheep. He was surprised his Tennessee Walker was doing so well in this, The Count was an elite horse and Dutch sang the arrogant beast’s praises whenever he got a chance. However, the delta between their stamina began to show as hoofbeats sounded behind Arthur. 

“You really thought you could hold that lead?” Dutch gained on Arthur and passed him, flashing a grin as he did and Arthur willed his horse to push just a little longer as they reached the final stretch. 

This was his chance, after being at the man’s beck and call for all these years to finally get something in return. To finally get the thing he’d been thinking about since... 

No. He wouldn’t ask for that. 

Regardless, his previously unbothered connection to the race strengthened with the thought of the look on Dutch’s face alone if he ended up losing. Arthur dug in his heels. 

“Final stretch,” he commented, his horse coming neck and neck with The Count as camp neared. From here, Arthur could see the beads of sweat on Dutch’s temple but willed himself to look away and focus on the finish line.  

He broke away from him until The Count disappeared from his peripheral and camp came into view. Lungs burning, Arthur half-skidded, half-stopped his horse by the hitching post and leant on the pommel of his saddle to calm his heart rate.  

He’d done it, he’d actually beat Dutch in a race. Races with Dutch when Arthur was in his youth were more frustrating than anything, by the time his experience started catching up his body began to bulk and made him less naturally agile as a rider. But now, as a grown man? It felt nothing short of great. So great, that Arthur hadn’t even considered their initial deal. 

“I never knew you were quite so good at running away, Arthur,” Dutch said through laboured breaths, hitching his horse beside Arthur’s and the two dismounted fluidly. 

“I never knew age had slowed you down quite so much,” Arthur chortled, leaning up against the hitching post. 

“Well,” Dutch took out his bandana and wiped the sweat from his brow, “time is a bastard. When you get to be my age, you’ll know that better than anything.” 

Typical. Arthur hardly batted an eyelid at the lack of congratulations and unnecessary excuses, expecting nothing less and putting Dutch’s defensiveness down to his injured pride. Still, the silent victory was a welcomed one. 

“Be well. I had fun with you today. You’re,” the falter from Dutch trying to find his words was a rare one and reminded Arthur that he too, was only human. “I was gonna say you’re like a son to me,” Dutch’s hand pressed firmly onto Arthur’s shoulder, and it was then that he realised he’d been avoiding eye contact and promptly met the man’s gaze, “but you’re more than that.” 

Well, if that didn’t spark warmth inside him. 

And then he went, Arthur’s limbs forgetting how to hold themselves naturally and he felt something he’d repressed for far too long. There was a time, before John, when Arthur was the most special thing in Dutch’s life. As the gang grew along with the space between them, Arthur didn’t feel so special anymore and learned to live with the fact; that Dutch would still always be the most special thing to him. Dutch knew the right words to appease Arthur, knew just what to say to bend his ear and reign complete control over him, but this time his words were genuine. Arthur had known Dutch for twenty years, and he knew when the man was speaking with an ulterior motive in mind instead of voicing his truth. 

He couldn’t help but watch his retreating form, one he’d thought about more times than he’d care to admit. 

It wasn’t as though Arthur had never had any experience with Dutch’s body. Not in a lewd sense, but spending so long travelling the open road with a man led to the odd occasion where the two would share a bedroll or a room at a hotel. On some of those occasions, the night would be cold and Arthur would naturally gravitate towards Dutch’s body heat. He always obliged, slinging an arm around Arthur and likely being thankful for Arthur’s warmth too. It was necessary, of course. Purely for survival purposes. 

But now, with such a large gang and no need for the two of them to spend more than a night away from camp together, Arthur missed it. 

He missed Dutch. As much as he loved the gang and would do anything for them, there were times when Arthur Morgan would like to relive the old days and have Dutch all to himself.  

Those times alone with him, the closeness between their bodies along with Dutch’s attention directed at only Arthur had satiated his gnawing hunger. Deep down, Arthur had always known that there was something about Dutch’s touch that meant more than the touch of another. He’d placated himself with what he had, and lying beside Dutch on a frosty night or sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the campfire was enough for him. It had to be. His urges satisfied, the fog in Arthur’s brain would clear and leave him with the razor-sharp focus Dutch needed from his top gun. Arthur learnt how to indulge himself and at the same time put himself in the best position for making Dutch proud. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

Now, Arthur can’t remember the last time he shared more than an hour with just Dutch, let alone an hour huddled beside him. Dutch’s palm on Arthur’s shoulder, a firm and secure hold as the man told him how much he meant to him, saying he’s not just his son but he’s more than that, broke even Arthur’s long-standing defences. He’d crumbled under the touch, his innards melting with the warmth of the feeling alone, and God did he want more.  

But then Dutch was gone, back off into camp and Arthur wilted at the loss of light that radiated from the one man he truly adores. Because that’s what it was, Arthur felt many things for Dutch, but adoring took the cake over all of them.  

“Oh,” Dutch stopped in his tracks, turning slightly to look at Arthur once more, “I almost forgot, I owe you.” 

A small gesture of his finger told Arthur to fall into step with him as he continued the path to his tent, and Arthur was at his side in an instant. 

One of the most bizarre things about Dutch was that man’s smell. Ever since Arthur had known him, he’d always had this distinct smell about him. Underneath the scents of gun oil, tobacco, whiskey, or whatever cologne Dutch had found at that point, the man’s own smell always lingered. Arthur didn’t know how to describe it, other than Dutch. It was Arthur's favourite.

And now, entering his closed tent for the first time in... a while, that smell wafted straight up Arthur’s nostrils. 

“It’s sad to think back to you in your prime,” Arthur hummed, easing the one-sided tension from being in such close proximity with one another.  

Dutch tutted, glancing briefly at a stack of papers and straightening them out. “Don’t be so conceited, Arthur, it’s unbecoming.” 

“Aw, if I’d have known you’d be such a sore loser, I wouldn’t have accepted the race.” 

“Don’t try to annoy me, son,” Dutch turned, hands on his hips with a slight tilt of his head. “Now, tell me what it is you’d like.” 

“What I’d like?” 

“Yes,” Dutch said slowly, as though talking to a toddler, “you have a prize to claim, if your mind can recall. Or have you taken one too many blows to the head recently? Ride your horse into a tree again, perhaps?” 

“I do not do that,” Arthur folded his arms in defence. 

“Yes, you do. Quite a lot, actually. Surprised the poor mount of yours can even see.” 

“My horse is fine,” Arthur retorted. “And no, my wit is as sharp as it has always been.” 

Dutch hummed in lazy agreement. “I suppose you have always been a little dim.” 

Arthur knew better than to bite, while Hosea’s teasing was always obvious and light, Dutch preferred to be more menacing with it and enjoyed the squirming from the recipient of his playful taunting. The smile that graced the man’s face after the extended silence told him he was satisfied. 

“So, what will it be.” 

While he was thankful for the change of subject, internally cursing himself for never being able to keep up with Dutch on a verbal scale, he still didn’t have a clue what to ask for. He knew he was maybe overthinking it, but this was a rare occurrence. 

“Come on, Arthur. This is your chance,” Dutch widened his arms before placing the papers on his side table, “you can have whatever you want. You won fair and square.” 

Finally, a little humility.  

“W-Well, what would you have asked me for?” 

Arthur knew full well Dutch didn’t have to win a race to get what he wanted from him. The man only had to look at Arthur and there he was, waiting diligently and willing to do whatever it took to make Dutch happy. It was pathetic, really, but Arthur knew that’s the way it would always be. The way it always had been. There was a small part of Arthur’s mind, a quiet whisper in an otherwise disarrayed cloud of thoughts, that gave attention to the prospect that there may be things Dutch wouldn’t ask of Arthur. Things he’d need an excuse for, and this would have been a perfect excuse. In the same way that it is for Arthur if he only had an inch of the man’s confidence and self-belief. 

But Dutch paused at that, the alteration in his expression telling Arthur all he needed to know about how much time he’d considered any secret desires he’d indulged in. The answer was none at all. 

Arthur chuckled, finding humour in Dutch’s empty response. “Yeah, in fairness, I do whatever you ask of me, anyway.” 

“That’s because I am reasonable with my requests,” his face changed to reflect thoughtfulness and humbleness, as though he was either of those things at that moment. 

“You? Reasonable? Shit, Dutch, you really are getting old. Looks like your memory is finally giving up on you.” 

Dutch huffed a laugh, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder again. “My boy, perhaps if you did not excel at every task I give you I would not ask for so many more.” 

Arthur worked on a swallow; the physical contact muddled with the praise sending his mind into a tizzy. “Maybe I’ll start slacking, in that case.” 

“Oh no,” Dutch’s chest rumbled with a laugh, “I know you better than anyone and I know how incapable you are at sitting still.” 

While Arthur wasn’t in a position to deny that, all he could focus on was the hand still planted on his shoulder. 

“Come on!” Dutch threw his arms up slightly, returning them to grip at his gun belt and Arthur used all of his self-control not to glance down. “Tell me what you want.” 

Arthur knew full well what he wanted. He’d tried to think of something else, anything else, but nothing came close. This was something he’d wanted for far too many years. “I don’t know, I guess...”  

Dutch didn’t appear fooled by Arthur’s feigned attempt at thinking as he scratched at his nape and darted his eyes to the corner of the tent. He really did know him better than anyone. His mouth quirked into a smile and Arthur was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. God, how he wanted to kiss that mouth of his. 

But then Dutch stilled, as though he’d caught the path of Arthur’s eye line who promptly cleared his throat. “Ah, I don’t -” 

“Son,” Dutch’s voice rumbled low through the confines of the tent, dropping to a volume that encased them in guaranteed privacy, “you know you can ask me for anything.” 

Arthur’s breath stilled in his chest, and the look on Dutch’s face was an unreadable one. He could see the intrigue and the excitement that the man seemed to be holding down. Surely, as he had done many times, Arthur was misreading the situation and would only end up making a fool out of himself if he dared venture down that path. 

“Come on,” Dutch commanded softly, “ask me.” 

Arthur never was one to deny Dutch. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what came next but being unable to keep it in any longer. His reaction couldn’t be that bad, and Arthur’s back ached with the heavy truth it carried. He trusted Dutch. Always had. Always will. 

“I want you to kiss me.” Arthur was surprised at the measured tone that left him, even if he had practically blurted the words out. He allowed his eyes to do their job again. 

Then when Dutch brought his hand up, Arthur half-expected a strike across his face to follow it. But instead, that calloused palm brushed the fallen strands of overdue-to-be-cut hair from Arthur’s brow, and Dutch’s eyes followed the motion until they met Arthur’s. At that moment, seeing the calm determination and tempering intrigue that resided in the warm brown of his eyes, he understood exactly why the man had women falling at his feet. If he had so much power from a look and touch alone, Arthur daren’t think about the power he welded when he used other or all of the items he had at his disposal. He suspected he’d never needed to do so. 

Arthur had stopped breathing and would soon pass out on Dutch’s floor, he was sure of it. But he couldn’t seem to remember how to take in air no matter how badly he wanted to inhale all of Dutch. He wasn’t even sure when the man had gotten so close. 

“Relax,” Dutch cooed, noticing the nerves radiating from Arthur and using them to feed his own confidence. He brought a thumb over Arthur’s cheekbone, swiping at dirt and sweat but from the look on his face, anyone would have believed Arthur had been doused in sweet honey. “I never could say no to you, Arthur.” 

That was his name. His name that oozed from Dutch’s lips like nectar from a bright pink fuchsia on an early spring morning. He tethered himself to it, his only remaining string tied to his sense of self or else he’d ascend straight to heaven. That was the last thing he needed, considering the extra sin he was about to add to his long list of acts against God. 

Then Dutch leaned in. 

And Arthur found out what heaven truly was. 

The press of the surprisingly soft lips against his reminded Arthur that he was a sentient being and it was necessary to respond and reciprocate in this instance. He allowed himself to do it; allowed himself this small slice of eternal paradise that would outlive the both of them, despite how much he believed he didn’t deserve it.  

His lips were on fire in what Arthur could only describe as a blaze of glory. He’d kissed before, he enjoyed kissing and had a decent record of the act, especially when compared to some of the men he knew. But this man, his man if only for a fleeting moment, was the one on the receiving end. Or maybe it was Arthur that was on the receiving end. He didn’t know, nor did he care. 

As the remembrance of who he was and where he was began to fade, Arthur needed a new tether and opted for his only option. He brought his hands to Dutch’s waist, willing himself not to grip too hard but he didn’t want it to be over just yet. The feel of Dutch’s moustache brushing over the stubble on his upper lip, the taste of the long-forgotten cigar that’d entertained Dutch earlier in the day, and the man himself closer than he’d ever been before were all sensations Arthur wasn’t ready to part with.  

But then Dutch pulled off, more eased off and a shaky sigh left Arthur. It was all he could manage. 

“How many do I owe you?” Dutch focused his mind on slowly exhaling and the pad of his thumb pressed gently onto the middle of Arthur’s bottom lip. 

“I -” Arthur faltered, knowing it was his turn to say something smooth but coming up blank, not that he was surprised.  

Dutch hummed thoughtfully, knowing that Arthur had always had a hard time asking outright for the things he wanted. “I’ll rephrase – how long have you wanted this?” 

Any and all effort to remain composed withered, and Arthur released his frustration with a long sigh, huffing an accepting laugh void of any humour. “Long time, Dutch. Longer than I care to admit,” Arthur mumbled, relishing in the contact of Dutch’s thumb on his mouth. 

“I see.” 

What Arthur wanted to do was answer the question properly, provide the clarity Dutch was clearly hankering for but feared he’d ruin the moment if he said anything. Instead, he closed his mouth around the digit and softly sucked it into his mouth, noting the taste of gun oil and shame but not caring one bit. 

Hearing Dutch’s breath hitch in response sent warm electricity through Arthur’s entire body, and any humiliation he might’ve, and probably should’ve, felt in the act was silenced at seeing Dutch in raptures as he stared at one of his oldest friends performing such an act that he never thought he’d see. Arthur released his thumb with a quiet pop, feeling a mix of embarrassment and... something else he didn’t want to give a name to rise up and fill his body full of static. 

A lapse in time in that small tent left the two men suspended, neither knowing what to do next nor how to move things forward. 

“Screw it,” Dutch surrendered, closing his hand over Arthur’s nape and pulling him back to where he belonged, as far as Arthur was concerned. 

Then Arthur saw the ferocious side of Dutch he loved so much. The side of Dutch that would set his mind to something and not give up until he had it. Arthur felt a tongue swipe over his bottom lip, and he was reminded of how easy it was to do what Dutch wanted. It was second nature by now, and there was a small measure of security in being so obedient. Dutch would steer him right. Dutch still trusted him enough to come to him with his biggest problems requiring solutions and was safe in the knowledge that Arthur would always deliver. 

Arthur just never knew it would extend to this.  

It was too easy to let his lips part. Allowing his tongue to meet Dutch’s as it swirled around his mouth had been the simplest part of Arthur’s day.  He relinquished everything, just when he thought he’d given Dutch all he had, he gave him all that remained in that kiss. 

Now he gripped his waist, unafraid of anything considering the events that were currently transpiring. He felt invincible, and for the first time like he could do no wrong. Dutch’s had remained on his nape and held him in place, his other coming to the small of Arthur’s back and pulling his frame to his. 

The contact was overwhelming. 

It was also scarily addicting. Arthur knew this fancy of his would never do him any favours, and he almost grew sad at the notion that nothing would ever come close. 

Almost. 

Then he remembered that with Dutch, he would always be invincible. 

Arthur’s chest against Dutch’s allowed him to feel the equally laboured breathing that came from him, and he was sure he could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage. Or perhaps it was his own, which would come as no surprise considering its intensity. All these years, all this time waiting for something he thought would never come; Arthur suspected this was one of his dreams but didn’t care enough to wake up. 

And of everything Arthur had been to Dutch; he’d never had the honour of being this. This was special. He was special once more. 

The clash of teeth and mingling of spit continued and Arthur dared to bring a hand up to Dutch’s hair, feeling the soft curls between his fingers as he brushed over his scalp. Dutch didn’t seem to mind, somehow deepening the kiss and Arthur became acutely aware of the weakness in his knees. 

He never wanted it to stop. It couldn’t stop, because Arthur wasn’t sure if it would ever start again and with that knowledge, he feared he’d drop dead right on the spot. It was almost worse than never kissing him, experiencing Dutch van der Linde in such an intimate way and knowing it was a one-time thing was downright cruel. 

So, it was simple; he wouldn’t let it end. 

A sound came from Arthur at that, something between a hum and moan but it was muffled by Dutch’s mouth on his. He regretted it instantly when the warmth left his face and he flittered his eyes open at the same time Dutch brought his forehead to rest against Arthur’s. 

He wasn’t sure when he’d started panting, he’d be embarrassed that such a small excursion had brought him to that point if it weren’t for the twin response from Dutch. Still, he couldn’t help but think he’d done something wrong or taken it too far. Arthur desperately wanted to apologise, but the words simply would not form. 

Arthur allowed himself to just be, to let the moment wash over him and pull every ounce of joy from it while he could. 

A calm certainty arrived, one that told him he’d never feel anything like this again. He didn’t deserve to be privy to such a thing as Dutch’s affections, and knew nothing would ever be comparable. Until Dutch uttered his next words. 

“I don’t think I’m quite done with you yet, cowboy.” 

#vandermorgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan x dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x arthur morgan #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #fanfic #writting #my stuff #asks

[ofallthingsnasty]

Hey Nasty hope you're recovering from your dentist scare lol ( Same honestly, my dentist is always telling me to relax and calm down before they do the x rays because I freeze up😭)

But your red dead reblog(Arthur is so fine in that gif🥵) has me thinking about the"through the briar" aftermath again😫 Specifically after Micah kicks the bucket(Rest in Pieces Jerk lmao) With John bumping into the reader a few weeks after he killed Micah and seeing what a bad situation she's in. I can just imagine it goes something like:

Reader your still here? What happened to y- *sees the gaggle of blonde haired, blue eyed children running around behind her and the oldest son looks a lot like a certain someone he blasted a while ago* Ahhhhh shiiiiit💀💀

Honestly I think even John would feel pretty sorry for her and want to help at least a little, cause lets be real, reader and her kids are probably all half-starved and wearing nothing but rags. And also maybe for the fact that John probably noticed how much Arthur cared about the reader before the relationship fell apart, and feel some type of obligation to help her out of respect for Arthur's memory idk

But either way I am still choosing to believe John finds reader and gives her 3 gold bars to start over🥲

Hi!! That's so sweet of you, thanks! It's such a paradox when I go in for my own appointments because on one hand, that typical dentist office smell is so comforting to me because I like what I do, on the other I always have the cost of everything in the back of my head 😂 I guess I'm just scared of getting a big, fat bill fhdjshefdj Right?? His bad fucking stomp in that gif has me squirming in my chair lol 😳 I could stare at gifs of him all day

I think even John would feel pretty sorry for her

Oh my god, absolutely. If he sees you with three little mouths to feed, a shadow of the woman you once were - that is definitely going to sting, especially when he does the math and realizes that at least the oldest kid is Micah's brat. I mean, John grew up with that gang, with Arthur, Hosea and Dutch - and the way you've gone from full-cheeked and fat, with a timid demeanor and a sweet laugh, to haggard, dirty and utterly exhausted is just another reminder of how things have turned to shit. You're the living, breathing proof of how his life came crashing right down. He probably doesn't recognize you at first but when he does, he'll make sure that you at least have enough for dinner that night, flustered at the way you smile at him despite everything that has happened. (Because you're still so sweet to him just like years ago - and it's a great injustice that you aren't married to an honest, just as kind, man.)

Honestly I think even John would (...) want to help at least a little, cause lets be real, reader and her kids are probably all half-starved and wearing nothing but rags. And also maybe for the fact that John probably noticed how much Arthur cared about the reader before the relationship fell apart, and feel some type of obligation to help her out of respect for Arthur's memory idk But either way I am still choosing to believe John finds reader and gives her 3 gold bars to start over🥲

I think so, too. John is a little hard-hearded, not the smartest and plenty selfish, sure - but he also has a good heart. He won't save you and the kids by moving you into Beecher's Hope on his dime (he has his own shit going on, haha) but you can't tell me he wouldn't find a way to help you start a new life somewhere else. You've never been the closest friends but even he can see what Micah did to you and how rancid it all is. He'd find a way. Hell, maybe Charles is kind enough to take you up to Canada to find a place for you and your kids (maybe a new husband, too, after passing you off as an American widow - no one knows you up there and with marriage being less about love and more about convenience maybe there is an older bachelor who can support you and the kids and doesn't mind them all that much. Not a pretty fate, still, but everything is better than Micah.)

Reader your still here? What happened to y- Ahhhhh shiiiiit

fhjhsd I had to laugh so hard at that because I can HEAR him saying that, exactly like this, too. The way he'd need a solid minute to realize what's going on only to swear immediately afterwards bahaha

#ask #sodaequalsbubbles #if you wonder about the math thing... just trying to keep reader vague -- i for example can't have blond children haha #through the briar #i usually think of my readers as my age so she'd be early maybe mid 30s... that's still young enough for a new husband #oh my god i feel so sorry for her 😭 #/rdr2

[soopsiedaisies]

hii!! for the "i'm not from the us ask game" (which is so interesting btw)

4, 5, 11 and 23

dw, i’d almost entirely forgotten about it!!! 💀

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

Stamppot rauwe andijvie, always.

Andijvie is a bitter leaf-vegetable related to endives (its latin name is cuchorium endivia). I can’t find any references on it being eaten anywhere other than the Netherlands but please correct me if I’m wrong about that lmao. You can boil/blanch it, but generally we eat it raw. It’s (in my humble opinion) fantastic in ‘stamppot rauwe andijvie’, which is basically just mashed potatoes, chopped andijvie, some spices, and (usually) thick, baked-dry bacon bits. Some people also add cheese, if they finish it off in the oven like a casserole. We tend to add smoked sausage as well.

5. favourite song in your native language?

(choosing was hard) my favourite song is probably Het Regent Zonnestralen by Acda en de Munnik (‘It’s Raining Sunbeams’). I keep coming back to it.

11. favourite native writer/poet?

Omg I don’t actually read a lot of Dutch books anymore, but I suppose Harry Mulisch! He was a Dutch icon and a tremendously prolific author.

Books I enjoyed by Mulisch are Twee Vrouwen (Two Women), a tragic queer romance that plays with the Orpheus and Eurydice myth (opinions on it are… mixed), and De Ontdekking van de Hemel (The Discovery of Heaven), which is considered a masterpiece (it is) and I really… can’t describe it, largely because it’s so long and so much. But it’s beautiful nevertheless.

Some general lit recs (of which there are English translations):

I also really, really enjoyed De Engelenmaker by Stefan Brijs, a Flemish author—‘The Angel Maker’ in English. Creepy and intriguing and wonderful. Brijs sets an incredible tone. Love stuff that plays with hubris.

The other one is a classic and also has a movie: Het Gouden Ei (The Golden Egg) by another Dutch icon, Tim Krabbé. It’s a short thriller and an easy read. Totally recommend it.

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

Beer lol. Can’t go wrong with beer here. There’s some spirits too: jenever (the ancestor of gin), a variety of kruidenbitters (spice & herb liquor, very flavourful), and my beloved advocaat (an almost custard-like liquor made of egg(yolk)s, condensed milk, sugar or honey, and an eau de vie).

#not from the us ask game #heartfeltletters-written

[keanureevesisbae]

🌹🌹🌹

So, this is a wip that has been fairly new. It's a Kylian Mbappé story. I only have a vague idea, character names and a few quotes, so, you'll receive a little sneakpeak into the starts of this fic (also, i have no idea when i will post this, probably in a few months or something lol) - also, this is from kylian's pov

Nothing can throw me off my game. But then there is Jacqui Tahamata, the Dutch miracle player. Doe eyed, a heart of gold and quite the character.

#send me a rose and I'll share a wip sentence xoxo #i0veless

[keenregine]

I love winter, but it hates me First, I chose the perfect background song to set the mood for that ultimate peaceful writing environment. Vitamin by Incubus. Second comes the digging of thoughts as to where did I last left off and third, how to go on with this lot. Felt like it’s been a year to be honest *it’s been only four short months. Not that I was ‘intentionally’ busy, but many things and changes have occurred. And I have no choice but to comply. Well I guess, there’s no turning back. To cut everything short, I came back to Europe a second time to be with Alex. I had my mothers blessing. At that point flights in the Philippines were still being cancelled from time to time *or it was just my alibi for being in love, all this justification pffh. Story of my life. Anyways, the plan was to meet in Amsterdam to celebrate Christmas, and I could never think of other bucket list type of dream vacations that can surpass this. The Netherlands? Are you kidding me?! Yes! But of course I had to undergo that tremendous visa processing again, which I’m nearly much accustomed to. Only this time, it was smooth and hassle-free that I couldn’t remember how it all went unlike that Spanish visa experience along with other unfortunate events. It’s not important now anyway, let’s just skip to the good part shall we? The bad weather didn’t stop us from having a great time if you know what I mean. Sight seeing duh. It was rainy, foggy, wet, gloomy and top of the notch cold. What more can you expect on a winter season, cmon. Seeing Amsterdam is like jumping right off a post card, what you see is the same exact beauty and prestige. People are warm and speaks advanced English even the locals, although it would be awesome if I could hear them speak in Dutch but once they see a tourist they automatically switch to English to make you feel welcome, I get teary eyed just thinking about it. And don’t even get me started on the transport *here we go. If sight seeing, staring in awe is the first thing to do on my list, lurking in the transport is second. It gives me pleasure exploring the map and links of certain trains and buses and it gets even more exciting because it’s written in foreign language, it’s like breaking a code if you will. Or better, treasure hunting. Covid was not totally over by that time, much to our disappointment, the Red Light District pubs and shops were temporarily closed. But it didn’t took away the best views the city could offer, that’s when I knew why the city was termed Amsterdam. Like literally from the word ‘Dam’ tons of them! Situated in almost every block. How cool is that. Coffee shops is where you casually buy weed, *good quality by the way and cafe is where you buy coffee. Don’t get those two mixed up. When traveling, I realized food is one thing I can’t quickly quite adapt to. To prove that, I’m not really looking forward trying their delicacies, it’s always Asian cuisine I crave for. I asked one of my closest friend to make home made Sambal for me to bring on my trip, *she’s Malaysian. She was nice enough to make not only one but four different kinds, I couldn’t care less whether my luggage would smell or the risk of spilling *of course I had to pack it nice and tight. As long as I have something with me I would find comfort in. Three days went, Alex and I swiftly finished a whole freaking jar. Lol. As expected, commercial coffees are not that strong, but the bread is on a whole different level. Though, I wouldn’t go crazy over those but it was nice to try once or twice, especially that late night street churros that we accidentally came across. Better than those in Spain, I swear. To clear the confusion and to remind myself at the same time, I am telling a story dated back December 2021. And I already made tons of entry way past those dates. This is maximum effort for me just saying. Unfortunately, tulips doesn’t bloom in winter so we don’t get to see that. It would be a bonus, but we’re honestly not really too drawn about it. Alex arranged most of our itinerary and back ups in case of any mishap, I couldn’t be thankful enough for his patience. Bringing me along, a whiny, always hungry KFC forever and easily gets bored creature. Lol. Next, we went ahead and took a glimpse of the windmills which is another post card moment. One good point traveling on a bad weather is the crowd, there isn’t much. I guess it’s good for us but not for local business. My younger self would be amazed imagining the Christmas eve I get to have fast forward year 2021. It was simple for us both, yet very special. Another best thing about Europe is being able to cross country covered by the EU. And I hope the UK regrets it until this very day Brexit and all, maybe great for many other diplomatic reasons but being exclusive isn’t everything. Before I make a big speech about this, let’s not. Let me get to my main point about that bit of crossing countries, we decided to go to Brussels which only took a couple of hour train ride from Amsterdam. Just when we’re about to leave, the universe seemed like it’s playing tricks on us because the sun finally came out, and the sky was clear and bright blue. Oh well, we can always come back, but don’t know when. I honestly don’t have much expectations going to Belgium, in a good way. What I only know is that it’s where the main EU parliament sits, where Audrey Hepburn was born, Belgian waffles, Belgian chocolate, Belgian fries, Belgian Mallinois? What language do they speak I’m not sure, google is there for christsake. Much like in AMS, people speaks good English, but their vibe is not very welcoming. And if possible, they want to be left alone in their own business. I truly understand that, omg same. Maybe I’m just carried away but their waffles hits differently. Crunchy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. The texture is in words I can’t explain. And those are only sold in streets, Between us two, Alex enjoyed them the most. The chocolates he said was also great. It was crowded in Brussels compared to Amsterdam but it was beautiful too. From my own perspective, I’m already running out of words to say. Shame. Rainy days are over when we went home to Spain, *I know right? calling it home?. If you ask me, I prefer winter than summer. But I will still complain non stop, though you can’t argue it’s good for the skin. Plus all the layers you can wear, plus I hate exposing too much skin. Has to do with my low self esteem and bulky arms. New experiences never stop. I learned that during new year countdown in Spain *ten second count, you need to eat 10 piece of grapes consecutively, drink champagne to push everything down your throat and make a wish after. I almost choked on my last grape. I have never heard this part of their tradition, but it was nice to try. First part of my stay in Spain was all normal and stuff. Alex goes to work in the morning so I had to make my own plans for the day which is pretty much revisiting museums and just plainly walk around the city center. One of my other close friends went to Madrid, so we met. She particularly wants to see Reina Sofia which has quite a vast collection of notable paintings, including few Picasso and Dali’s. Little did I know, she was interested on activist rights and modern art materials, total opposite of my interest. But I knew well how she wants to rule the government someday. She has my full support on that and dreaming she can make it happen. Uniting North and South Korea once more *yes she’s Korean. We talked in depth about this long ago when we’re drinking, turns out she was unfeigned. The universe has a funny way of turning things around, in manners both good and bad. Joining the bandwagon, covid has hit me. Found out a week prior my flight to Riyadh, I had no other choice but to extend my stay. Good in a way I could spend more time with him, but since we’re staying in the same room, it hit him too. That’s the feeling of having it huh. Unable to smell and taste things just like a normal flu. What’s remarkable is the screwing feeling in my head, I was up for two whole nights. After few days of being isolated, we both recovered quick but my test still came out positive. Another whole week of extension for me, along with that is the change of my flight twice which is a hefty waste of money. I came back to Riyadh in one whole piece. And it was that time when I said enough is enough, and everything felt like it’s really bound to happen, and it’s the right moment cause somehow everything went smooth sailing. I was starting to plan my final exit and go to UK. Where I am sitting right now, having these flashbacks, not believing I surpassed all those challenges. The processing itself didn’t take long, after I passed the interview next was CBT then the Visa. Three months in total, but the obstacles I had to go through were no joke. Even though I said everything was ‘smooth sailing’, there’s still bits of many other things that if put together becomes massive. With the help of my friends and Alex, I somehow made it. And that was just the beginning. . . I am happy and contented just being able to nearly update my writing in the current time frame. Knowing the stubborn nature I'm born with. Forgot to mention, one of the most depressing parts of covid hitting the city of Amsterdam was we're not able to visit the museums, Rijks in particular. Oh man, missing the chance to see some Rembrandts and Vermeer.REMBRANDTS and VERMEER I repeat. The Nightwatch and The Milkmaid. Impressionism is not on my top list of art movements, but I'd love to see the Van Gogh museum as well, it wouldn't hurt I guess. And also Anne Frank's house was closed, got to see what I read in real life. Now, dreading all of these makes tons of reason for a major revisit.

[stayathomesurveys]

055.

When’s the last time you did an activity like a crossword or word search? I played Wordle this morning... does that count? Otherwise, I have no idea.

What holiday tradition do you find outdated or stupid? I don’t really know or care.

What hairstyle (or hair color) looks ridiculous on just about everyone? I don’t know.

What food or drinks makes your teeth hurt? Really cold stuff, I guess.

Are you old enough to gamble? What’s the last time you went into a casino (not necessarily to gamble)? I am old enough but I have never been. I also have no desire to.

Is your wallet organized in any way or do you just throw stuff in there wherever? It’s not really organized any certain way.

Have you ever been to a shopping outlet (where all the stores have discounted merchandise)? When’s the last time you went? Did you buy anything? Yes. A couple of weeks ago. I bought a little bit of makeup and clothes.

The last restaurant you went to, what was their main cuisine (American, Japanese, what have you)? I ordered Taco Bell for breakfast this morning... Mexican? Tex Mex?

What do your sunglasses look like? Big? I dunno. I have multiple pairs. 

Do you hate it when girls (or guys) enter stores with just a bathing suit on? Sure.

Do you have difficulty reading long articles or books online or can you easily do that? It really depends.

What’s the most common car you see driving around in your area? Do you often see out of state/country license plates? I really don’t know. I don’t pay enough attention. Yeah, I do see quite a few out of state license plates.

What is the most annoying commercial you’ve seen within the past few years? How about the most sexist? Not sure. I don’t have cable so I don’t see commercials. I see annoying ads online all the time but I couldn’t tell you the worst one(s).

Do you get nervous before “meeting the parents”? Yeah.

What do you think of your friends? No friends.

What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Something with flavor.

Have you ever done ecstacy? Nope.

Do you like painkillers? Yeah, but not enough to abuse them or get them off of the streets.

What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex? Lol.

Do you own a knife? I’m assuming this is referring to a pocket knife or some sort of defensive knife rather than kitchen knives, lol. I do not. My boyfriend has a Katana in the apartment but that’s more like a sword, lol.

Top 3 thoughts at this exact moment: I’m tired. My gums hurt. Money.

Name five drinks you regularly drink: Zero calorie soda. Cranberry juice. Green tea. Water. Coffee.

What time did you wake up today? I haven’t been to sleep yet.

Current hair? Dutch braids.

Current worry? Money.

Current hate? Life.

Favorite place to be? In bed.

Least favorite place to be? At work.

Where would you like to go? Europe.

What do you think you’ll be in 10 yrs? I don’t know.

Last thing you ate? Taco Bell.

Last time you had an alcoholic drink? A couple weeks ago.

What were you doing 12AM last night? Watching The Fosters.

Do people get shocked by how old you are? Yeah.

Do you have any features that people notice right away? As in a mole on your cheek, or a big nose, big teeth, etc? I don’t know.

Where is the last person you kissed at this moment? Work.

Will tomorrow be better then today? I don’t know.

Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed? Yes.

Do you have any empty alcohol bottles hidden? No.

Have you ever kissed someone whose name started with a: J, M, C, L, B, A? Yup.

Ever kissed a brown eyed and brown haired person? Yes.

Are you a player? No.

Is there something you want to tell someone? Hm. What are you excited for? Nothing.

Is something bothering you? Sure.

Do you like the town you are living in? It’s ok. Too expensive.

Does your best friend approve of the last person you kissed? No friends.

Do you have any friends with kids? No friends.

Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? I haven’t been to bed yet.

Do you miss someone right now? Yup.

Have you held hands with anyone in the past 24 hours? No.

Think a lot before you fall asleep? Yes.

What was the last thing you spent your money on? Food.

Were you single last summer? No.

What’s the weather like outside? 85 degrees & sunny.

Is the last person you kissed older than you? No.

Where did you first kiss the last person you kissed? Bed.

Last place you went besides your house? Target.

Is there someone you’d really like to hang out with and just talk about stuff? I guess.

What was the worst feeling you last felt? Life is just hard. All of the feelings surrounding that.

Last sexual experience? Last month? Idk, I haven’t been in the mood lately.

How often do you talk on the phone? Daily, pretty much.

Do you have a significant other at the moment? Yeah.

Do you “go out” a lot? No.

Do you work a lot? I quit my job. 

What did you do last night? Watched The Fosters.

When the phone rings who do you want it to be? No one. I hate talking on the phone.

Do you still talk to your exes? No.

Current Best Friend? None.

Are you a good girlfriend/boyfriend? I am until you make me unhappy or don’t return the same effort. I used to be a really good girlfriend to my boyfriend and I’ve since given up and have lost any motivation to even try. None of my efforts were ever returned and I’m tired of being treated like a mom/servant/maid/roommate/fuckbuddy/whatever. So no, I guess that makes me a bad girlfriend. I don’t care.

What happened at 10:00 AM? I was eating breakfast from Taco Bell.

Who was the first person you talked to today? My boyfriend.

Will you be in bed within twenty minutes? I am in bed. Will I be sleeping? I am debating that.

When will be the next time you text someone? Later.

How do you feel about your hair right now? It’s whatever.

Who do you currently have texts in your inbox from? My boyfriend and sister.

What color was the last pill you took? White.

How many windows are open on your computer? One window, two tabs.

What are you doing after this? I might go to sleep. I don’t know.

#survey

[its-deputy-caleb]

Suggestion prompt: the gang/specific member reacts to their crush/love interest gifting them a new hat lol

heyy i didn't know how many you wanted so i only did three but i've only just started head cannons for the VDL gang so i might do more characters after i get the hang of it more. Anyways enjoy this nonetheless and its gender neutral for everyone.

----------------------------

Dutch

Dutch had lost his hat in a train robbery and is absolutely devastated that his infamous black fedora is gone. He tries his best to hide it but you notice how he attempts to readjust it only to find its not there.

You never liked to see Dutch upset and you thought with all his added stress that a nice gift would help. That’s why you spent weeks searching store after store for a hat that would be a suitable replacement.

On a quiet evening in camp you enter his tent to find him leaning over a crate and mapping out the next move for the gang. You walk over a confidently place the hat over the pages, replacing his view with the gift you’ve finally bought him.

Its almost identical to his old one only it looks much newer and there isn’t a single bullet hole in it (yet). The only real point of difference is the red silk ribbon that wraps around the band of the hat.

Dutch stares at you from his seat and takes your hand in his. He brings it towards him to place a kiss to your knuckles and invites you to sit with him for the rest of the night.

Arthur

Arthur didn’t necessarily like going to the tailor and wasn’t the biggest fan of needing to buy fancy attire. Unfortunately for him, Dutch sent you both to find a new outfit for the upcoming job and you both needed to look the part.

He spent the next half an hour grumbling in the change room, complaining even as he came out to show you the new suit. The only time he didn’t have a constant look of distain on his face was when he eyed one of the hats on the shelf.

When it was your turn to pick your outfit, Arthur being the gentleman that he is let you have some privacy and walked outside for a smoke break while you decided.

As you went to pay you couldn’t help but pick up the hat Arthur had been eyeing and paid for the lot. You exited the tailor and made your way over to him, holding out the hat with a soft smile on your face. Arthur never liked to treat himself and it made you happy that you could do such a small thing for him.

When the next job arrives and Arthur is standing there in his suit, you can’t help but crack a smile at the hat sitting atop his head as well.

Charles

One thing that you and Charles loved to do together was go hunting. Naturally he’s one hundred times better than you but over the past few weeks between jobs, he’s been teaching you how to use the bow properly and how to track wildlife.

Of course you can’t go out together all the time and Charles was planning to head into the Grizzlies to find some wolves and maybe, if he was lucky get to see the white bison. Unfortunately you had to help out on a bank robbery so you wouldn’t get to accompany him.

Charles had been talking about this trip to the grizzlies for a while now and you had no doubt that it would be freezing. That’s why you headed to the trapper and had a warm fluffy hat made for him to take with him.

He was just about to leave when you gifted it to him and his face brightened up with happiness and pride when he saw the pelt was from the elk you two hunted together. Charles brought you in for a tight hug, one that you happily returned before saying your goodbyes.

#side note i love dutch's hat #enjoy this mess ya'll #charles smith #charles smith x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #gn!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2

[kuleo26]

hello hello !!!! may i request miyuki, kuramochi, eijun and furuya and their reactions when their s/o in plays with their hair ???

hello! i had posted a request like this a while ago with kuramochi and furuya which you can find in the part one link below, so this will be more of a part two! i also added mei for shits and giggles lol. thanks for requesting <3

playing with the daiya boy's hair pt. 2

including: miyuki kazuya, sawamura eijun, narumiya mei

part 1

miyuki kazuya

y'know, his hair is kind of a mullet

so technically, it's long enough to braid

if you pull hard enough

so one day when y'all are watching a movie

you convince him to let you braid his hair

he makes the stupid mistake of agreeing

he's in pain

you dutch braid his hair, and to make sure it stays you have to braid it tightly

eventually he struggles enough that you give up

but he just HAS to have revenge

so for the remainder of the movie

he pins you under him

hehe it was fun ig

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

sawamura eijun

like in previous posts

mans is a cuddle bug

and will absolutely LOVE it when you play with his hair

nothing much, just like raking your hand through his hair

but will most likely make a noise of content or lean into your touch

and if you eventually stop

like move your hand away if you think he's sleeping

surprise

he's not sleeping

he'll literally grab your hand

and plop it right back onto his head

and if you don't want to keep playing with his hair

he'll look at you in such a cute way

like puckers his lips

looks at you almost teary eyed

what a little suck up

but it works

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

narumiya mei

another one of the mullet boys

but he's such a primadonna

so he literally doesn't let anyone touch his hair

he has to make it PERFECT

despite having a baseball cap on majority of the time

after a while of being his s/o, he let you play with his hair

like make tiny braids or brush it

he has a very low pain tolerance

so if you accidentally tug too hard on his hair

he'll look at you like you just told him he sucked at baseball

him being the petty person he is

then makes you two switch positions

and then proceeds to braid your hair

but he doesn't know how to braid

so he's just making knots and tugging on your hair

he's such a little shit

(i feel like i say that every time i write about him lmao)

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#kuleo's inbox <3 #daiya no ace headcanons #daiya x reader #diamond no ace

[haruniki]

Eimiko hc

(kinda modern au ish?)

- personally I see Ei as someone who likes to wake up early, while Yae likes to sleep in late

- Yae wears glasses but only while writing or reading, due to this Ei often scolds Yae

- Yae has a slight stigmatism in her right eye

-Ei braids Yae's hair while Yae recounts the 500 years that she's been gone, Yae even reads some of the most popular books from some of the centuries

- Both of them are unable to cook, Yae can slightly cook better than Ei but both pretty much can't cook

- matching hair pieces! they both have a matching hair piece!

- longs walks around Inazuma, mostly around the sakura tree and Serai Island

- Ei is really good drawing! Yae sometimes uses her drawings in her books

- Ei plays the Sims and makes sims of her and Yae

- Both of them don't like PDA

- Together, they have 4 cats. All named after desserts

- they have a room filled with plushies and other cute items they've bought for each other

- Ei likes coffee with lots of sugar and coffee creamer, Yae enjoys black coffee but every once in a while will drink it with some sugar and coffee creamer

- they one time had an argument over wether or not pumpkins were vegetables or fruits.

- They both enjoy winter time as it allows them sit under a blanket and drink hot chocolate more often

-Yae has a nose piercing on the left side of her nose, the jewel on it matches Ei's eye color

-Ei likes writing poetry and often shares it when Yae needs inspiration

- They both took a dance class once for fun but ended up leaving 30 minutes in due to Ei accidentally knocking into someone

- I hc that Yae is 5'2" (157.48 cm) and Ei is 5'7" (170.18 cm)

- Yae likes forehead kisses

- Yae has a mole right above her left eyebrow that Ei kisses whenever she can

- Ei has short nails due to her biting/picking at her nails. She also has slightly calloused hands

-Yae has long nails with a few chipped nails she has slight scarring on her hands

- Ei has a lightning scar on her back. When Yae hugs her, she can feel her tracing it gently

- Yae watches anime, Ei doesn't understand it but still watches it because she likes seeing Yae smile

- matching nails (a light purple with a pink flower stamped on)

- Yae uses the '🌸' emoji at the end of all her messages

- Ei doesn't understand emojis but understands emoticons

- Yae has an Instagram and posts poor quality images of Ei mundane things like shopping or doing laundry

- Long night conversations about anything and everything

-Yae has definitely drawn on Ei's face with marker while she slept. She was also definitely not allowed in the bedroom for a week due to this

- Yae does fake proposals at restaurants to get free desert

- Ei knows a few different languages, Yae loves hearing her talk in those languages. Her favorite language to hear is Dutch

- Yae likes vocaloid

- Ei likes a bit of every kind of music. She embraces all music as it's an opportunity to expand her musical horizon

╔══════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════════╗

Hello! hopefully you enjoyed or not idk xkdmsm

I haven't done stuff like this since middle school so that's kinda embarrassing but I tried my best??? I'm not really good at writing. I hope it's decent lol

Request are open btw!! So pls request if you'd like!!

╚═════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════════╝

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #eimiko

[novaiya]

Diamonds & Rust Part II - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Part I

Summary: It’s been three years since that fateful night. Three years during which you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now, the fate once again brought the two of you together. Was it for the last time, or was something else bound to happen?

Words: 8k

Warnings: Cheating, F!Reader, Smut

A/N: If you prefer to read this on AO3, click here. This took me two months to write LOL But in the end, I’m very pleased with how it turned out.

Your hand shook as you held the pen above the crisp, spotless paper. You took a deep breath, writing the date, but couldn’t proceed beyond that. You dropped the pen and planted your elbows on the table, hiding your face in your hands. 

It’s been three years since you last saw each other. Three years since you were held in his hands and caressed by his lips. The time you shared on that cold, foggy night felt both lightyears and a touch away. You thought it to be a perfect, picturesque ending to your imperfect relationship, like a final scene in a play, but it seemed it was merely an intermission.

After a few moments of rest you wrote, “Dear Arthur” and spilled out the reason for your letter. Few nights ago, your ranch was attacked by a group of local cattle rustlers. Seeing how well your ranch was doing, they wanted their cut, and when you stood your ground, they were less than happy. They left you alone for the moment, but promised to be back in numbers, and that they were. Not a couple of days later, you were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunshots and a fire outside your window. Like they promised, they were back and ready to take what they felt they were entitled to. You watched them take away your cattle and set fire to your barn as your husband hastily packed up your valuables, and not shortly after, you were on your wagon, bound for your mother-in-law’s house, barely escaping the flames and the bullets. 

You signed off with your name and an address of where you were staying, and with fleeing hope, posted the letter the next day.

As you patiently awaited Arthur’s reply or an arrival, a curious elephant entered your household that neither you or your husband were ready to address. The woman that your husband knew you as was a kind, gentle woman who’s biggest crime was accidentally buying two gallons of milk and only paying for one. He never saw, or could imagine you carrying a weapon, and for all he knew, you didn’t know how to use one. The woman he saw during the attack, however, he did not know. She skillfully held the shotgun in her hands, dropped the slugs in without even looking and didn’t fall backwards when the recoil hit. She had a fire in her eyes that threatened to overpower the one outside, and for a second, even he, her husband, was afraid of her. Having been born to a simple family in which his mother was gentle and submissive, serving as a pliable partner to his father, he was shocked to see you so strong and hard. He was still deciding what he thought of this discovery of this new you, and during that time, you could feel him drift away.

You didn’t miss the change in him, how he eyed you from the corner of his eyes during dinner time, or the cold space between the two of you when you went to bed. It hurt and it stung and it made you long for Arthur’s arrival so much more. With him, there were no secrets you had to hide. You never went to bed with a fear that one day your facade would fall apart, and he would shriek at seeing the real you. From the beginning, he knew everything there was to know about you, and accepted it. What some would see as character flaws, he simply saw as character traits that made you who you were. With him, you could be you, something that you realized you couldn’t be with your husband. When the two of your married, you hoped that it would put a final nail in the coffin of your past self, but it seemed that your past self refused to die, and your husband shrieked at seeing the dead corpse. 

__________________

“There’s a letter for you, Arthur,” said Miss Grimshaw as she passed Arthur who was hitching his horse to a hitching post.

He thanked her and made his way to his tent where an envelope laid on his cot.

“Let’s see,” he said to himself as he tore the envelope open and pulled out a piece of paper. As he read your name on the bottom of the paper, he felt a familiar pang that the thought of you always brought to him. He skimmed through the rest of the letter, plucking the main points as well as your address before shoving the paper in his satchel and making his way to the back of the wagon that served as a wall to his tent. He looked over a map that was there, calculating how long it would take to get to you. Eight hours, he thought, six if he cut on any unnecessary breaks and sleep. He once again made his way around the wagon and went to a chest at the end of his cot, picking out a pair of fresh clothes and other necessary items for the trip. He was doing everything on autopilot, for his mind was too clouded with the thoughts of you to pay attention to what his hands were doing. He remembered your last meeting, and how it opened so many old wounds and created even more new ones. In that moment, when the two of you held each other, whispered love confessions into the silent night, he felt as if he was on cloud nine, but when he left, the blow was just as strong.   

When he finished packing, he looked around; Pearson and Abigail were busy chopping vegetables, with little Jack sitting at his mother’s feet. Dutch and Molly were in their tent, talking (arguing would be a better word). The girls were doing chores, with Miss Grimshaw watching over them and correcting their techniques. Most of the men were out on jobs, leaving only Javier standing at guard duty. Even though everyone had free rein to come and go whenever they pleased, Arthur especially, he didn’t want to be asked unnecessary questions, so he waited until Javier was on the other side of the perimeter to mount his horse and ride away to you.

__________________

As you sat at the dining room table of Bertha’s, your mother-in-law, house, you kept praying that Arthur got your letter and found it in himself to help you. You found yourself thinking that maybe it might’ve gotten lost, or perhaps the rain soaked the envelope and the letter to the point it had to be thrown away. With nothing to do but wait, you kept fidgeting with your dress as you sat by the table, only to promptly raise up when you heard the sound of the hoofbeats approach. You pushed the front door open with a smile as hopeful as that of a child, for it to only fall apart when you saw that it was your husband, coming back from a run to the town for provision. The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t say anything, and just kissed your cold cheek as he moved past you into the house. 

“You still think he’ll come?” your husband asked one morning as he sat at the dining room table and you washed the dishes. It’s been about a week since you posted the letter, and Arthur still hasn’t come. You were beginning to lose hope, but didn’t show it.

“I’m sure,” you said, not turning away from the dishes in your hands. You told your husband that you knew someone who could help, and when he inquired who it might be, you told him it was a friend from your past life, someone who helped you get back on your feet after you lost your parents. That didn’t satisfy his curiosity, so he pried on. Answering his questions was like walking through a field full of landmines. Every answer had to be calculated, giving just enough information to satisfy his curiosity and not to lead to more questions. At the end of the conversation, you were hopeful that the newfound information you shared would bring you two back together, but in fact, it did the opposite, and he felt that there was even more he didn’t know about you. 

As you washed the dishes, you looked through the window in front of you and felt thunder run through your entire being. You could never mistaken that mare for anyone else, with her unique coat and her silky locks; it was Boadicea, and with her, someone else you could never mistaken; Arthur. You watched him through the dirty kitchen window as he hitched Boadicea to a tree nearby and made his way to the house in strong, long strides. You dropped the dishes back into the sink with a splash and ran to the door, opening it as Arthur was about to knock.

“Arthur,” you said with a smile that lit up your whole face. 

He could feel his heartbeat all over his body as he was met with your face. Your smile made your entire face glow, and he could see sparkles in your eyes as you looked at him. Knowing that he was the reason for your reaction, he could feel the familiar haze of feelings cloud his entire being. 

He spoke your name in return, his voice enveloping each syllable with affection and tenderness that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, and which your husband could hear from where he sat at a dining room table. 

The two of you stood at the threshold for a brief moment, caught up in each other’s eyes and closeness. You fought the urge to embrace him, to kiss him and to tell him how much you missed him, and he did the same. Instead, you moved away and motioned for him to get inside. As he did so, he almost instantly met eyes with your husband, who rose up from his seat to greet the man.

“Roy Dorset,” your husband said as he extended his hand.

“Arthur Morgan.”

As you watched, the two men shared an awkward, silent handshake, during which you had a chance to compare and contrast the two of them. You certainly had a type, you though, as you looked at the men before you, both of them tall and handsome. There were, however, noticeable distinctions that differentiated them, and served as a representation of the person you were with each of them. Roy, being a part time rancher and a part time bookkeeper for a general store in your town, was dressed as a man about town with carefully ironed pants, clean shirt and a vest with all the buttons attached. He was a proper god-fearing, law-abiding man who had traditional standards for people, some of which you sometimes felt you couldn’t reach yourself. 

Arthur, in contrast, was dressed haphazardly, wearing old, patched jeans, boots that have seen better days and a shirt that has clearly been washed many times over. By his look, you could tell Arthur didn’t care what others thought of him. He wore - and did - what he wanted, without a care for other people’s opinion. He didn’t hide himself behind anything, and that’s what you wished you could do now.

After a moment of pleasantries, the three of you sat at the dining room table to discuss the matter at hand. You sat at the head of the table, with Roy to your left and Arthur to your right. You and Roy explained what happened at the ranch, adding details that you forgot to write about in the letter. At some point as the three of you talked,

your daughter came up to the table. With her grandmother asleep and all of her toys left at home, she had nothing to do, so she decided to join you.

You hoisted her up to your lap and let her stay with you as you continued talking.

Despite the conversation still going, Arthur lost all attention as soon as he saw your daughter. What shocked him first was that you had a daughter in the first place, but what shocked him even more was how little the girl looked like your husband. While still trying to seem as he was listening, Arthur inconspicuously kept looking between your daughter and your husband. While Roy had dark, brown hair, the little girl in your lap had light, dirty blonde locks. Her eyes, which were traveling all over the room, looking for something to busy herself with, were a whirlpool of green and blue, while Roy’s, which at the moment were looking down on his lap, were a dull, brown shade. Suddenly, realization hit Arthur. He started to think back on your last encounter. Could it be? He tried to figure out how old the child was, and tried to remember the time of the year when the two of you were together. He could feel himself getting lightheaded as all the thoughts filled his mind, making him not hear his own name being called.

“Arthur,” you said once again when he didn’t answer you the first time. As if being pulled out from a dream, he looked around, suddenly forgetting where he was.

“I said, what do you think about the plan?” you said, looking at Arthur at the same time as the girl in your lap.

Arthur could feel all the eyes on him, and a color painted his face. He could faintly remember what you talked about a moment ago. Something about the best path to take back to the ranch, how dangerous the road might be with wolves roaming around. After a moment of pause, he returned with, “Sounds good to me,” and the conversation went on, with Arthur still barely paying attention.

_________________

You carefully slipped out of the covers, trying not to wake your husband up, before walking across the room on your tiptoes, opening the door and leaving the room. You couldn’t sleep. With Arthur’s proximity, you found yourself laying in bed with the thoughts of him. You tried to squash those pesky thoughts, turned from one side to the other in your bed as you kept telling yourself that you couldn’t, shouldn’t do it despite how much you wanted to. As you looked at your husband, his face illuminated by the light from the moon outside, you thought of doing to him what you did to Arthur all those years ago. You left Arthur for a search for a better, calmer and stable life, and now you want to leave that life to go back to Arthur.

You leaned against the kitchen counter as you poured yourself a glass of whiskey, looking out of the window into the world outside. With it being late fall, some trees have already shed their leaves, leaving once bushy woods stripped. You could see birds, once hidden from the prying eyes by the leaves now on full display on the branches. They were close enough that you could hear them sing, but not enough to understand what it is they were saying.

Suddenly, you heard the wood planks squeak behind you and smiled. 

“Can’t sleep either?” you said without turning around.

“No,” Arthur replied as he went to stand next to you.

Without another word you took a shot glass and poured him one.

“Thank you for coming,” you said as you gave him the glass. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“‘Course I would,” he said before swinging back the shot. 

At finally having a moment alone with him, you were fighting back the urge to spill everything that’s been on your mind, to ask every question and tell every answer that you’ve been holding for the past three years and for the past few hours that he’s been here. You decided it’s best to start off slowly.

“How have you been? How’s the gang?”

“Fine, I guess,” he said as he turned around to lean against the counter, crossing his hand on his chest. “Picked up a few people along the way. The gang’s twice its size now.”

You nodded at his answer.

“Seems you’ve had an addition too.”

The statement made heat rise to your face, and you swallowed down, nodding again. 

“What’s her name?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Lily.”

“Beautiful name,” he said. “How old is she?”

“Three,” you said, knowing very well where this was going. 

“Is she mine?” His voice was calm and reticent despite the fact that his mind was racing so fast he thought he was going to faint no matter what your answer was.

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his question wash over you. The question that was lingering in the air since the moment your daughter was born, and that only became stronger when Arthur came today, was finally asked. To your own surprise, you felt yourself relax after a few seconds had passed. With the question being finally asked, you could feel the weight of it lifted from your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you said, turning your head away

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he returned, somewhat exasperated.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you repeated, your voice more stern, but still hushed as to not wake anyone up. “I don’t know.” You lowered your head before speaking again. “I don’t know. Roy and I were trying during that time.”  

You held yourself in your hands, your head hanging low. About three years ago, Roy and you have been trying for months to get pregnant. Nothing was happening, until suddenly, it did. Roy was overjoyed, feeling that Isis has finally shined her light on the two of you. You, however, knew it took more than an Egyptian goddess of fertility to bring you to the situation at hand. Right away, you did the math, and despite how much you tried to tell yourself that the days could be a little bit off, the numbers didn’t lie. It only became more apartment when your daughter was born; within a few days, you could see traces of him in her; her light hair, her blue eyes. Even her lips and nose looked like his. She was a visual reminder, everyday, of what you and Arthur could have had.

“She looks like me, you know,” Arthur said, walking around to stand in front of you, his proximity making your heartbeat quicken like it always did.

“I know,” you said, your voice barely audible.

“What if she’s mine?”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your head low and your eyes focused on the ground until you felt his hand, soft and warm on your cheek, making you look up. 

You felt enveloped in his love as you looked into his eyes. They were kind and inviting as he looked at you, and without saying anything, they offered shelter from all the worries of life.

His thumb traced your lower lip and you involuntarily opened your mouth, gasping. He stepped a little bit closer, pushing you against the counter with his body, making you feel all of him against you, the thin material of his union suit not leaving an inch of space between the two of you.

“I missed you,” he said. 

He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a chance to slip away if you so desired to. You didn’t, waving your hands in his hair and bringing him closer instead, deepening the kiss. You hated yourself for not being stronger, for not resisting your inner desires. You hated how with just a touch, he had you under his control. His hands ran down your sides, following your curves from your chest over your waist and to your hips, stopping there. One of your hands reached out to touch his cheek, feeling a light stubble there (he went to you right away after finishing a mission, not having a chance to even shave) You remembered the night the two of you shared three years ago, how the feeling of his lips lingered on your for months after. 

You wanted to get lost in the kiss, in him, but suddenly, a voice coming from the stairs pulled you out of your reverie, and the two of you broke apart as fast as you came together. You were slightly panting, both from the kiss and from the rush of anxiety at being caught. You looked up at the stairs from where the voice came, and after a few moments, two small feet came into the light, padding barefoot down the stairs.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” you said as you kneeled down to look at your daughter. 

One of her hands held onto the arm of her stuffed bear, a friend who kept her company at night, while the other brushed the sleep out of her eyes, trying to stay awake long enough to talk to you. “Grandma’s snoring,” she drew before yawning.

You smiled, ruffling her blonde locks a bit before saying, “Well, you can sleep with daddy and me tonight then.” 

Arthur stood a few feet away, watching the two of you without saying a word. He could feel resentment bubbling in him at your husband, and at the same time, himself. Despite how much he wanted to put all the blame on Roy (for “stealing” you), he realized that the only person he had to blame was himself. If he wasn’t so stupid all those years ago, if he just took your hand and let you lead him out of the outlaw life, this - a life with a house, a daughter and you as his wife - could’ve all been his. “Darlin’, right now ain’t a good time,” he would say when you would press him about finally making your escape. “We need more money if we wanna start on our own” would be another of his excuses. Truth be told, as much as he wanted to start a fresh, new life with you, he was afraid. Outlaw life was everything he’d ever known. He was raised and became the man he was today in it. He was terrified that out there, in the world of law and order, in which one woke up in the morning to start a day of work, and had proper suppers at the table with their family, he wouldn’t survive.

The sound of Lily’s voice, calling for him, pulled him out of his thoughts. Her clear, blue eyes, looked up at him as she asked him if he was her mother’s friend. You turned around to look at Arthur, and after a few seconds he said, “Yeah, I am. Something like that.” She smiled in return, calmed at knowing that the strange, big man was not a stranger at all but a friend. As you picked her up, ready to take her to bed, she introduced herself to Arthur, and asked him what his name was. He introduced himself, and in return, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Arthur.” You didn’t know why, but at seeing the scene play out, you could feel tears well up in your eyes. It could’ve all been so different, you thought. The three of you were so close at being a family, practically looked like one right now. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down before murmuring that it’s already too late, and walking over to your bedroom door with your daughter in your hands. You stopped at the door for a second, fumbling with the door knob. Arthur watched your back as you stood, your daughter’s head peeking from behind your shoulder, before you turned the knob and disappeared into the room. 

He stood in the dark, empty dining room for a few more minutes, going over the scene that just unfolded a million times. He could feel the weight of everything crushing him down, breaking his bones and turning them into dust. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, shaking his head.

“Idiot,” he said to himself before taking the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another shot. 

______________

The sound of birds singing outside accompanied you as you woke up. It was still early and no one was up yet, so you got ready without any hurry before going into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Not a while later, Bertha joined you in the kitchen, and the two of you had everything ready right as the men came to take their seats at the table.

You kept quiet as you ate breakfast, with Arthur sitting across from you, Lily next to him, and Roy next to you. Bertha, being the kind host that she was, something that she got used to from the years of marriage to an army Sergeant, couldn’t sit still and continued to check up on everybody, pouring coffee even when the cups were halfway full and making sure there were no empty plates on the table. It was only when Roy said, “Enough, mother” did she take a seat at the head of the table and started her own meal.

As you ate your breakfast, Roy and Arthur talked, discussing once again the best route to take back to the ranch. Despite not planning on going himself, Roy still wanted to make sure his opinion on the matter was considered and suggested the main road, which although would take longer, was safer from wild animals and any “savage outlaws that roamed the plains.” Arthur snickered at his choice of words, and noted that if he wanted to “come back to a ranch and not heap of ash, a shortcut is a better option.” Roy didn’t reply anything and turned back to his meal.

As Bertha sipped on her coffee, she turned to face you and asked, “Are you going too?”

“No,” both Roy and Arthur said in unison, and “Yes,” said you.

An awkward silence fell over as the three of you looked between each other. You could feel the men eyeing you in bafflement, Roy especially, but you looked at Arthur and spoke to him first.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” you said, disbelief painted all over your face.

Arthur shook his head, looking away and furrowing his brows.

“You’re not coming, it’s too dangerous,” he said, turning back to face you.

You let out a small chuckle before saying, “We’ve faced far more dangerous things than some puny cattle rustlers.”

Arthur dropped his fork and knife on the table with a loud thud and said, “You have a daughter now, I ain’t gonna let you put yourself in harm's way.”

“But you’re gonna let yourself get in harm's way?” you returned, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at him.

“They know who you are, they don’t know me,” he said, the volume of his voice long past what was appropriate for a breakfast conversation. “I can get in and out and they won’t know what hit em”

“And do you expect me to just sit patiently and wait?” you said, throwing your hands around. “What if something goes wrong? What if they’re more dangerous than we thought? Am I supposed to just wait till someone brings in your body?” Your words began to tangle in each other, becoming almost incoherent as you spoke faster than your mind could process. They, however, were cut short as Arthur shouted your name and hit his palm down on the table, making a glass of water spill.

Finally, the silence fell over the dining room once again and the only thing that could be heard were drops of water hitting the floor. Both Bertha and Roy sat wearing similar expressions, their mouths hanging open, eyes wide at what they just saw and heard. They felt like spectators, watching a play unfold before their eyes.

As you tried to calm yourself down, you remembered how back when you were in the gang, the two of you almost never went on missions without each other. At first, it bothered Dutch that if he wanted to send you on a mission, Arthur was bound to come along (and vice versa), but soon, he came to accept that the two of you were a package deal. He even took a notice that the jobs went smoother when the two of you were together, evident by the fact that you would get the job done quicker, and your gains were higher than those that Arthur and you brought when you went separately.

“You know I can’t let you go alone, Arthur,” you said after some time.

As if riding down the same memory lane you just did, he sighted and shook his head. 

“I know,” he said before getting up from the table and going over to the room where he stayed.

Slightly shaken up from the intense display that took place, Bertha got up from the table, and without a word started cleaning up, taking empty plates and cups and putting them in the sink. You sat with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths, and bracing yourself for what was to come. You could already feel Roy open his mouth, could already hear his voice…

  Arthur was haphazardly throwing his stuff in his bag, crumpling his shirts and pants into balls and pushing them into his bag as if the clothes themselves were at fault for his mood. He remembered how much fun the two of you had when you went on the jobs together. How the sight of blood and the smell of gunpowder did nothing more than excite you. A smile broke through his solemn face at the memory. But now, he thought, it was different. Not only had it been years since you were in the line of fire, but you now had a child. Your life has changed, you got away, broke free from the never ending nightmare in which one has to always look behind their back and sleep with one eye open and a gun under their pillow. He didn’t want you back into that kind of life, if it could even be called that. Deep in his mind, however, he knew it wasn’t for him to decide.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning over a dresser and closing his eyes. He could’ve probably plunged deeper into his thoughts, but a sound of hushed tones outside got his attention, and he straightened up, inching closer to the door and pressed his ear against it. 

  “I was okay with your past, but this is pushing it,” Roy said.

“Is my past pushing it?”

“Your past is in the guest bedroom, getting dressed.”

Your shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh left your lips. You and Roy have been bickering for the past five minutes. Truth be told, the bickering has been going on for the past few days, but only now has it culminated. The tension that he felt between you and Arthur just a few minutes ago drove him over the edge - the edge to which he came from seeing you hold a gun, hearing more about your past and now, seeing Arthur - and he found himself not being able to hold his thoughts and feelings in any longer. Just like it always happened with couples who started arguing about one thing, only to move on to a completely unrelated one, you both got defensive. The conversation was fruitless. Nothing of the matter was discussed, no solution was reached and everyone was left thinking the other was in the wrong, leaving the two of you sitting next to each other like strangers in a train station, waiting for the next train.

“I’m doing this for us, Roy,” you said.

“You’re doing this for yourself,” he spit out before adding, a little bit softer, “You’ve changed a lot in these couple of weeks. I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

You felt yourself detach from the world upon hearing his words. You could faintly hear him continue talking, referencing the relationship between his mother and father, and how the former always consulted her husband before any major decision, but you were not listening. You smiled weakly to yourself at the irony that upon showing him the real you, with all your past and your secrets, he said he didn’t know you anymore. Didn’t know, or he didn’t want to, you thought. Your mind instantly went back to Arthur, like it often tended to these past few days, and you thought of how from the beginning, he knew who you were, and without a word, accepted and loved you.

“You ready?”

Arthur’s voice pulled you out of your mind, and stopped Roy in his speech. You looked at Arthur, and then at Roy. For the first time since you got married, you didn’t feel anything when looking into your husband's eyes. You could see him plead, silently, for you not to go.

Without saying a word, you got up from your chair and went to your room to get 

ready.

_________________

  You turned your head around to watch your husband stand on the porch as you and Arthur roared off to your destination. You wondered what he thought as his figure grew smaller and smaller till he completely disappeared behind the trees. You turned back forward, spurring your horse.

The feeling of being back on a horse, with an iron on your hip and wind in your hair was exhilarating. You could feel life flow through your veins as you held the reins. Through clear plains, mountains and forests, the two of you rode non-stop for a few hours. There was not a single person on your way, only occasional elks, deers, and raccoons accompanying you on the journey. For a moment, you felt like you were once again an outlaw. All of this felt so familiar; you and Arthur, adrenaline in your veins, dirt road ahead. For a moment, you caught yourself thinking that if it weren’t for your daughter back home, you simply would’ve kept riding on.

As you kept going, the sun slowly began to set, painting the road in front of you in orange. 

“Let’s make camp,” Arthur said when the sun completely disappeared, and the night loomed over.

As you found a secluded space in the woods, the two of you fell into a long-established routine, with you going out to get some firewood and Arthur hunting a rabbit for the two of you to eat. The night might’ve been a bit chilly, but with the campfire next to you and the rum Arthur found in his satchel, the two of you were nice and warm as you enjoyed food, drinks and conversations that piled up from years apart. 

Your combined laughs could be heard all throughout the forest as Arthur told you about the latest predicament that John got himself into, and which he of course had to save him from. Sounds like John, you thought. You couldn’t tell how many times you and Arthur were sent to rescue him from some sort of trouble. Being the youngest, John always felt that he had to prove something to someone, which in the end, only proved that he was still the baby of the gang (despite at that point being a full grown adult).

Gradually, the laughter died down, but the smile still lingered on your lips.

“What are you so happy about?” Arthur said.

You looked into the fire, watching the flames dance and reach towards the sky, as you answered. “It’s been so long since I felt so at ease, so free…” you said.“I just-I’m real happy being here.”

Arthur hummed at your answer before saying, “Ranch life ain’t cutting it for you no more?”

“A woman can only shovel shit for so long,” you said, making Arthur chuckle. You took another swig of the rum before passing it to Arthur.

“I took this all for granted when we was together,” you said, looking around, “the freedom, the nature, the road. And now when I don’t have it, I crave it.”

You looked up, catching Arthur’s gaze and holding it as you continued. 

“I find myself so often thinking about the past,” you said and added, a little lower, “about you, how much I miss it all.”

Arthur could already feel the effect of your words on him, could already feel the intensity with which his heart beat faster. Hearing you say those words, sparked a flame in him. Only a few seconds passed before you continued speaking, but it was enough for Arthur to imagine, for a brief moment, a future with the two of you together. Could it be possible? Did he still have a chance at the happy ever after? He always was a firm believer that you can’t expect good things to happen to you while doing bad things, but in that instance, he allowed himself to believe that something good could happen.

“Oh, Arthur,” you said, shaking your head, “I think I made a mistake all those years ago.” 

The camp was silent except for the crackling of fire as your words hung in the air. Unlike a few years ago, you didn’t backtrack on your words, didn’t feel embarrassed by them. You meant every syllable and every letter. As much as you adored your current life, with your cows and your ranch, you found yourself thinking more often that you weren’t meant for it. You were tired of playing the role of the doting housewife, a rancher, shoveling shit and milking cows. The real you was out there, among the horses and the gun smoke. The thought only got stronger the closer you were to Arthur, and now that you were sitting next to each other, your thighs almost touching together, it reached its pinnacle.

No more words needed to be said as you held Arthur’s gaze. Everything has been said years ago. You stood up and got into his lap, draping your hands over his shoulders while his instantly went for your hips. The two of you stayed like this for a moment, admiring each other under the moonlight. You were conscious of nothing except the feeling of each other’s bodies against one another. Finally you moved your head closer, brushing your lips against his. You could feel his breath on your lips, the rum that the two of you drank still fresh on them. He closed his eyes, already leaning forward towards you. 

His hands tightened on your hips when you pressed your lips against his, slow and gentle like you always were. The two of you quickly found a comfortable pace, your lips moving against each other in a perfect flow, your tongues brushing against one another every once in a while. Instinctively, you started to move your hips against his, searching for that delicious feeling you were craving. Arthur wasn’t holding back either, moving his hips in tandem with yours, brushing his clothed erection over your center. His hands left your hips, moving to your blouse and unbuttoning it, revealing your naked chest.

You helped him completely remove your blouse, throwing it into direction unknown. As soon as it was away, his mouth was on your skin, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

“Arthur,” you moaned when his tongue circled your nipple. You tangled your fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp and pushing your chest closer to his mouth. You could feel his beard scraping at your chest, adding a slight burn that only heightened your pleasures. One of his hands started palming your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers and making you throw your head back, moaning into the night. 

He started going up your neck once again, leaving light nips and kisses from your chest, up your collarbone and neck, reaching to your ear. He kissed behind your ear while one of his hands was palming your breast, sending jolts of pleasure all through your being.

“Darlin’,” he said, kissing over your jaw and cheek, “I ain’t never lettin’ you go again.”

When it came to words, Arthur’s were always simple. He didn’t use any extraordinary vocabulary or elaborate euphemism. He always said what he meant, and his words always came from his heart. Hearing him utter this promise now, which held a vision of the future so beautiful you could hardly imagine it, made you teeter on the verge of crying tears of joy. You crashed your lips against his, not knowing any other way to express the sheer mix of love, lust and longing you were feeling. 

Neither of you could wait much longer and you untangled yourself from each other, standing up and starting to remove each other's clothes. He helped you unbuckle your belt and throw it aside while you unbuttoned his shirt. His lips were back on yours as he helped you pull his shirt away and went to work on the buttons of your pants. Before long, the little camp you set up was littered with your combined clothes, leaving you in just your drawers and Arthur in his union suit.

It was a beautiful night, with a sky so clear that the amount of stars around was inestimable. You, however, didn’t pay any attention to them, keeping your eyes on Arthur as you slowly pulled down your drawers, letting them fall to the ground. His breathing became haggard as he took in your naked form, flushed in pink from the campfire next to you. He's seen you naked before countless times, yet the sight of our body never stopped to take his breath away. His breathing was caught in his throat as he watched your every movement, following your hands as they reached out to the buttons of his union suit.

You could see the reflection of the fire in his eyes as you stood in front of him, popping button after button of his union suit, revealing his tan skin. Once the last button was open, he helped you take his union suit off, leaving the two of you naked to each other.

He took your hand in his and helped you down to the bedroll, covering your body with his. With the campfire next to you, and Arthur’s body covering yours, you felt warm and safe, protected from any and every thing the world could throw at you. One of his hands reached out, cradling your face. 

You placed your hand on his chest, running it up to his head and tangling it in his hair, bringing him down and pressing your lips against his. The kiss was as fiery and as hot as the fire you were laying next to, and in that moment, you realized that you never fell as alive as when you were with Arthur. “Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for things it has forbidden to itself,” you remembered a quote from the book you were reading a few weeks ago, and realized you were tired of resisting. You didn’t know what tomorrow had in store for you, but right now, you had Arthur and that’s all that mattered.

Breaking the kiss, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You didn’t even have to think to answer. Your answer came so quick it almost sounded as if the two of you talked at the same time.

The lopsided smile that appeared on Arthur’s lips at your words was so genuine and innocent, it made you smile in return. You made sure to burn the image of it in your memory, just like all the others you got throughs the years when the two of you said, “I love you”. 

He settled comfortably between your spread legs and took a hold of his member before slowly pushing in.

“Arthur,” you moaned his name, clawing at his back when he bottomed out. You were practically dripping with how wet you were, yet his girth still gave you that delicious feeling of being stretched.

He kept still for a few moments, letting you get used to him all while whispering praises in your ear and kissing down your neck. When you felt you were ready, you moved your hips.

As if in a dream, silhouetted by the trees, the two of you made love under the starry night sky. The erotic novels would be envious of the passion the two of your shared; your bodies, sweaty, moving against each other in a perfect rhythm, your hands and legs, entangled in each other, your moans and sighs, unbounded, sounding in an empty forest. You were so lost in each other, you didn’t care if anyone heard you, the existence of other people didn’t register to you. The world was only as big as your camp, and the only people in it were the two of you.

You could feel yourself near the peak, could feel your legs twitch each time Arthur hit that delicious spot in you. He could feel it too, with how your walls were squeezing him tighter, and how your eyes were rolling to the back of your head each time he pushed in you. He wasn’t far behind either. One of his hands reached between the two of you, finding your clit and teasing it. It was as if an electric current shot through you; all your energy centered on where Arthur was touching you. You dug your nails into Arthur’s back, holding on to him as you breathed his name into his ear.

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, “let me feel you.”

As if hearing his voice was the last piece you needed to fall apart, you did. You saw white for a few moments as the immense pleasure took over your body, igniting every last nerve in you to life. You kept your body moving against his, your primal urges making you chase every last bit of pleasure you could get. 

The sight of you so lost in lust, your face contoured from the pleasure you were feeling pulled Arthur overboard, and he came a few moments later, spilling in you and  warming your walls with his seed. 

The two of you stayed like this for a few more minutes, entangled in each other, whispering “I love you”s as you showered each other with kisses, from neck, to cheeks, to forehead and lips. 

In the end, the two of you moved to the tent, draping a blanket over your bodies and holding onto each other. As the night went on, the tent filled with your combined dreams and hopes for the future. For the first time since the two of you got together, Arthur seriously discussed the possibility of leaving the gang so the three of you (You, Arthur and your daughter) could run away somewhere. You listened to him with your mouth open, not daring to make a single noise in fear of missing even a word he said. Could it be possible, you thought. Could you finally have the perfect ever after you’ve always dreamt of with Arthur? By the tone of his voice and how deeply in details he went as he planned the possible escape, you realized that your new life was right around the corner.

Despite the exhilarating conversation you were having, the two of you remembered you still had to wake up early tomorrow to make it to the ranch in time (the final loose end you had to tie before you were free). Reluctantly, you brought the conversation to a close - hopefully to be picked up again later - and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfics #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption headcanons #red dead redemption fanfics #red dead redemption imagines #red dead redemption fanfiction

[heckyeahponyscans]

Yeloli Watch Party time!

So it turns out the first episode WAS on Youtube, on a different channel and with Portuguese subtitles!  That was great, since I was able to use Google Translate + the subtitles to figure out the dialogue.

True story, I downloaded the video and painstakingly added English subtitles, but DailyMotion refused to upload it because the file was too big, lol.

Instead, here’s a Google Doc with the script: English Translation S01E01

Okay, on to the plot.

Season 1, Episode 1: The Magic Begins

Our story begins with narration explaining that Yeloli, the land of the fairies, is ruled by an evil queen who wants to enslave all humans.  The only thing standing in her way is a group of good Yeloli fairies who want to protect humans.

Currently evil Queen Pandora and leader of the good fairies, Evelyn, are having an anime magic battle.  (Nice Dutch angle!)  Evelyn fights Pandora, giving the other good fairies time to flee through a portal to Earth.

Evelyn casts a spell on Pandora, preventing Pandora and her army from entering the human world.

Pandora’s like, “Oh yeah? Watch this,” and performs a curse that will cause any Yeloli fairy who enters the human world to turn into a lifeless doll.

Evelyn flees to Earh, shouting, “CLOSE THE PORTAL!” But it’s too late; all the fairies shrink and turn into dolls.

(They do a good job giving the dolls a dead-eyed stare compared to the living characters.)

Evelyn casts a spell to alter the curse, so that if the dolls find an owner who truly loves them, they will regain their original size / powers.  Evelyn vows to care for the dolls in the meantime.

Cut to Mary, a fifth grader who, she tells us through narration, is bad at school and sports.  There’s something very depressing about the matter-of-fact way she tells us she’s “not talented.”  Like she’s not even mad or sad about it; she just takes it as fact.

Mary is minding her own business when a bunch of cherry blossoms magically swirl around her and lead her to a narrow alley with a mysterious glow at the end.  For some reason the first shot of the cherry blossoms is just . . . video of real cherry blossoms.  I dunno why, everything else is CGI.

Naturally Mary follows the glow and at the end of it she finds a little cul-de-sac with . . . a doll store!

Mary is entranced by the doll in the window, and if I was a little kid looking at that window display, I would be too.

She goes inside, of course, and admires the dolls, which Evelyn has hilariously posed to look bored.  I mean, I’m assuming the dolls can’t move on their own.  Or is this a Toy Story situation?

^ Also WHERE IS THIS DOLL’S LEGS?

Mary hears a voice and finds Evelyn casting a spell on a doll. My favorite part is Mary sees this lady levitating a doll and wonders, “Is this magic?”  Mary, please.

Evelyn then implants something that looks a lot like a spark (Transformers soul) from Beast Wars into the doll . . . and it comes to life!

Wow!  I’ve only known this doll for five seconds, but it seems evil!

The doll notices Mary, who backs out of the room which, fair.

Mary apologizes for intruding and Evelyn is like, “That’s okay.  Want a DOLL?”

Mary says she doesn’t have any money.  Evelyn is like, “Well, you can still play with them, they love visitors. Pick one you like.”

Mary picks the doll from the window--her name is Loli.  Magical light surrounds them both, indicating that Loli has chosen Mary to be her owner.

I was expecting Mary to gradually learn the doll’s backstory, but Evelyn straightout tells her that Loli is a princess who was cursed to be a doll, who needs love to break the curse.  She says many children have looked at Loli, but the doll rejected them all . . . until Mary came along.

tfw no one is good enough for your doll

So you’d  expect this would be the point where Mary gets the doll, but no, things take a very weird turn. Evelyn says Mary can have the doll . . . if she signs the Yeloli Contract.  What is the Yeoli Contract? WELL, it says the doll is your responsibility forever and you can’t give her away.  

You sign it via fingerprint.

That’s weird, right?  It seems like a mystical trap, right?  But the first half of the story frames Evelyn as heroic, so I dunno.  Just, if I had only seen the last half of the episode I would 100% think Evelyn was a villain trying to steal Mary’s soul or something.

Anyway, Mary signs, Evelyn boxes up the Loli, and Mary leaves, promising to take good care of Loli.  

Mary heads home . . . until a mysterious voice says, “Little girl . . . Little girl, GIVE ME YOUR DOLL.”

DUN DUN DUUUUUN, cliffhanger!

Some thoughts:

- Is Evelyn a fairy?  Or is she an Earth woman who knows magic? Why wasn’t she transformed into a doll with the rest of them?

- She brought Red-Eyes-Evil-Doll to life...  Is that doll a fairy, or can Evelyn bring regular dolls to life?  Red-Eyes could move / speak on her own, so maybe the fairy dolls DO all move when kids aren’t looking?

- Even though the CGI is older, the storyboarding, facial expressions, and movement are quite good, which is the key to being able to suspend disbelief. (Same reason I think Beast Wars made better use of their CGI than Siege, even though Siege is better in a technical sense... BW REALLY put effort into their facial & movement animations, while Siege was pretty lazy about it.)

- I like the shamelessness of the marketing. This is beyond “Cartoon shows character to get you to buy toy” . . . The ACTUAL DOLLS are magic and they need a child’s love to save them.  Amazing.

#Yeloli Watch Party #Yeloli #Yeluoli #Evelyn #Mary #Queen Pandora #long post