#mini prompt

OOOOhh yes anon, I have such a kink for this and I will definitely do it justice! Got a little carried away!

(I'm going to publish a few last mini prompts answer this weekend!! Don't worry if your ask isn't answered yet, it's coming soon! 🫶🏼)

The way Arthur handles you tonight is almost too much for you.

Just at the edge of camp, while everyone was busy celebrating Jack's reunion with the gang, Arthur had been quick to steal you away from the festivities and pin you against one of Shady Belle's old walls, barely hidden from everyone. The way he holds you up against it is almost ridiculously easy for him, as if lifting up a bunch of feathers; his hips settled between your legs, arms strongly holding them up and open, you're trapped between this eager furnace of a man and the coldness of the shabby wood against your back.

"H-how many did you had, Arthur?"

"Not that much... Just enough to give me the balls to man up and have my way with ya." He smiles at himself, pathetic bastard. "Not enough to make me forget about all this tomorrow morning, though..." He assures, voice a rough whisper, his lips crashing against yours in a deep and direct kiss, humming when he feels their soft plumpness.

He can't help it, you're just so pretty, so perfect, and tonight, after feeling the sting of saving the son of someone else to reunite a family that wasn't his, to be forced to only observe the love and fulfillment only a blood link could bring, never able to feel it anymore, he couldn't hold himself; craving. Craving for some kind of attention, any kind, from you.

He's already hard in his jeans, he has been for a long moment to be honest, since he saw that grin of yours he loved so dear, since you had whispered those filthy, teasing things into his ears right by the campfire, knowing damn well what you were doing. You should have seen it coming. His hips starts to press against your core, and with your thighs open and your dress pulled up, you can feel the hard line of his shaft grind aaall against your pussy in a long, deliberate movement.

"Oh!" You can't help but moan at it, your hands locking on his shoulders, trying to hold on to something, anything, to keep yourself grounded on Earth.

"Tut-tut, girl, you gotta keep quiet," He reminds you, a smug smirk on his lips, so fucking pleased with himself. He instantly rocks hismelf against you again, his clothed cock rubbing right where you need it against your pulsing clit, the tightness of his jeans emphasizing the hardness and pression of it against the fabric of your undergarments.

You can't stop yourself. You try to muffle it, but another sigh of pleasure is quickly turning into a whine, and he grunts, more quietly than you, barely a pleased exhale.

"What did I jus' say, hm? You want one of these fools come walkin' on us, uh? S'at what you want?"

"It's not that easy!" You protest, voice low but indignated. Wanting to prove your point, you suddenly aim for his neck, lips attacking his flesh, tongue and mouth suckling at his scarred skin, and this time, you're the one grinding your wet core against him.

And feeling you doing it to him, oh Lord, it's a whole other thing. Arthur is losing all sense of decency. He moans like he's been hit by a bullet, sinful hands sliding to your ass, grabbing each cheek with one hand, pressing you even more against him, encouraging your movement.

"S-see? Who's making noise, now?" You tease him with a triumphant smile, still whispering.

"Shut up," He growls, unable to resist anything anymore and hating himself for being that weak. He looks at you, angry stare mixed with so much desperation and lust that the whole world's limits are blurred. Without any more warning, he bends his head to yours and searches for another kiss, tongue sliding against yours, both of your tastes blending, the borders between you and him collapsing even further.

Accompanying the kiss, your body naturally rubs against his in a sensual, demanding move, and he responds instantly. It's a long moment of your two sexs grinding against the other, muffled moans mixed with a few loud pants and groans, Arthur wincing at the pain the frabic is causing him on his cockhead but not stopping for the wolrd, you moaning more and more as his large cock presses and grinds and rubs hardly against your clit. It's almost a competition now, seeing who would pull out the biggest sound from the other.

"Oh, for God's sake, Arthur you have an actual room for this now! Use the damn thing, goddamn it!" Hosea's paternal voice cuts through the air and stops your unholy throes of passion.

The outlaw in question grumbles as all answer, slipping his arms under your legs and lifting you up from the wall in a quick jump, marching as fast as he can inside the sheltering mansion.

I still have a lot of asks to write, I'll be answering through the week so don't worry about it!!

Oh you devil you Anon, pretty good pun here 😎 Feeling pretty horny so I added smut to this, hope this is okay as you hadn't specified!!

Arthur never feels so lonely as the moments he's away for a job, camping outside of camp on his own.

Not that it is a terrible problem. Loneliness can be good. He needs it from time to time, especially living with the gang every day. And the sounds of the forest, or the mountains, he loved them. He loved when it was just him and Mother Nature, as if the World was still authentic, not ruined one bit by men, a virgin, perfectly bright layer of snow. He loved smoking by the fire, sleeping under the stars sometimes.

The problem was that you weren't there.

Oh, how he wishes he could have been lonely with you. Your presence by his side tarnishes all those moments he once loved when he was still single. Now everything feels gloomy without the color of your eyes. The sounds aren't as melodic as your laugh. The stars as beautiful as your face.

In the coldness of his tent, so alone on his blanket, Arthur can't stop thinking of you, remembering every little detail he loved about you. And even without explicitly thinking about your gorgeous, beautiful naked body, he feels himself getting hard, just by the memory of your smile and your voice lulling him to sleep as you do at night. It doesn't even come close in the slighest way of your delicious, warm pussy.

Now remembering your latest night together, he fully indulges in his fantasies of you, images of your bare breasts filling his head, taste of your pussy his mouth, and sounds of your moans his ears. He strokes himself fast and carelessly, the opposite of how he would treat you if you were right here by his side.

He knows the first thing he'll do once back is have you against the nearest tree. He chuckles to himself, already imagining how you would squeal the moment he'd grab you and carry you through camp bridal style.

I always fantasize what it would be like for a reader to be a non-outlaw that had been with the gang for a short time. But leaves the gang before the events of ch. 6. And, what if Arthur meets the reader post ch. 6, (no tb), and they rekindle their friendship/ unspoken feelings they may have had for each other but never address. And they meet in an isolated cabin where the reader is living at (like Charolette’s place in the middle of the woods). It’s what I have for my self insert and I would love to see your take on it if you have the time. It can be smut/ fluff/ angst (whatever you desire), but I love the idea of an opportunity for Arthur and the reader to have a chance at something new, now that the pressure of preserving the gang is no more. (An experience he may have missed with Mary, but maybe doesn’t want to pass up another opportunity like that again?)

I understand if this is WAY too elaborate. Please have fun with it and change it however way you’d like. I really love your writing style. Again, I apologize for being so specific, and I hope you’ve had a really nice time with your work event! Please take care!! (Again I’m so sorry if this is oddly specific/ too long. Please change it however you need/like! Or if you don’t want to do it, 100% understand!)

- M

Heyyy! First of all, you don't have to be ashamed of anything!!! We're all here to share our stuff about Arthur, and as long as it doesn't hurt anyone or such, there's no bad or good idea!! It was pretty hard to write for a mini-prompt challenge, but here's a little piece of your scenario! I hope you'll like it still! 💓 Thanks for asking and the kind words!

It feels like ages since Arthur had seen you. More than ages, centuries. It's almost like you come from a past life of his, which in the end was pretty true. He had frozen outside your porch when he had seen you through the window, probably cooking in your kitchen or doing a completely normal and mundane activity like that. Something so domestic he couldn't have let himself think of a few months before.

It feels like seeing Heaven through a window.

Just like that, the feelings inside of him that he had kept for himself for so long are lashing back on him as a wave crashing on the shore, and he takes a step forward. He feels stupid there, planted like a stake, not daring to go further.

Old habits die hard, and he realises it as he remembers he's not a carrier of Death and sorrow anymore. He's not the Grim Reaper, cursing you with his love like he has been with Mary. He's not responsible for the whole gang's suffering and well-being.

He's free.

He slowly walks, feeling out of his body, out of this world. It feels so strange. He knocks on your door. It feels so strange. Waits for you to open it, takes hit hat off, try to comb his hair with his fingers. It feels so strange.

You open the door and open your mouth in a surprised expression.

He doesn't even know what to say or do; he's just here, and you're too, and both of you look at each other, recognizing each other, studying your faces with all sorts of emotions. Regret, love, sadness, happiness, everything. And after what feels like another lifetime, you smile at him and let him inside.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about, don't we?" Your kind voice, he had dreamed of hearing again one day, caresses his ears like sweet honey.

This.

Haha this one is so sweet and fun!! Loved writing it!! Thank you so much for your ask, little anon 🫶

A close sound suddenly pulls you out of Moprheus's realm, the darkness of the night still deep and thick as your eyes struggle to open. There's definitely someone outside your tent, a blurred form moving at the entrance.

The flaps suddenly open as the person stumbles inside, boots bumping into the little piece of furniture you use as a dressing table, dragging your belongings down with it. You hear the intruder curse an annoyed "Ah, shit!" and mumble an unaudible complaint.

"Arthur, is that you, honey?" You manage to ask in a sleepy voice, amusement starting to creep onto your face as you're realising what's happening. The outlaw snaps his head in your direction, and you catch his toothy smile even in the obscurity.

"Dar -hic!- ling! I didn't want t-to wake ya up."

He instantly let all the objects he had gathered to clean up his mess go, your little mirror crashing onto the ground. You sigh in a half-amused, half-desperate way. He is so drunk. "It's okay, big boy, come here." You whisper to him, pulling up your blanket and opening your arms.

Arthur doesn't even bother (or remember) to undress. He walks with difficulty to your cot, tripping at every step, hat falling on the ground during his final swing to you. He collapses almost entirely on you and instantly nestles his head into the crook of your neck, his burning body pressed against yours as your arms close their embrace around him. He's all messy and clumsy, the opposite of his usual attentive and restrained self, almost crushing you under him. You can still feel his huge torso hiccup and one of his legs is hanging off the bed. He speaks against your neck, the sound entirely muffled, and you assume by his intonation that he had said he loved you.

"Love you too, sweetie." You coo to him fondly. One of his hands not so subtly reaches for your chest, grabbing one breast and sighing contently. By the weight of him on your chest, you can feel he's already almost asleep, feeling his beatific smile on his face against your skin.

for the writing sprint: you and arthur returning back to camp after a mission gone sideways (make it as angsty as you want 👀)

Angsty prompt here we go!! Got a bit carried away with angst here, I don't write it that much so jumped on the occasion LOL. Thank you so much for your request, sweetest Alba 🥰

"You're unbelievable!"

Everyone in camp is well aware that you and Arthur are coming back from your job in Valentine, your voices shattering through the trees long before they see your silhouettes emerge from the forest.

"Did you really have to beat this poor fellow?"

"He had it comin'! Grabbin' you, callin' you names-

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur! That was the whole goddamn plan from the start!" You throw back to him, stopping your horse messily, the animal almost as nervous as you.

"Yeah well, I'm starting to believe you actually liked the son of bitch!" He spits, boots stomping on the ground as he jumps off his own mount. An awkward silence falls on the camp at the same time.

You turn quickly, body boiling, heat prickling your hands and feet. You can feel your brows crunched in a furious scowl. He faces you, and you notice how he's covered in bruises and cuts, spread everywhere on his skin like a dark reminder of what you had witnessed. A wild animal fighting another one. You're tired of this. Tired of him.

"I don't even know what to say! D'you think for one second about everyone knowing you in town now? About the gang being at risk? About the guy who's fucking dead on the ground in town right now?"

Did you think about your own safety?

Arthur doesn't answer, face closed off and jaw tight, just like his fists. Blood silently leaks from his knuckles. You know there's something else at play deep under this blaze of rage. But he doesn't want to face it. He points at your chest with his index finger, voice threatening, the animal barely hidden once again.

Alriiight, let's open those festivities with a super fluffy piece of domesticity!! Always up for a comforting cozy prompt! 💓 Thank you sm for your ask Kenny! Love ya 🫶

Your fingers go back and forth, your sewing needle dancing a gently cadenced waltz, just like this late evening; slow rhythm, for once. Sitting directly on the grass not too far from you and Arthur's tent, you're focused on your mundane task, the strange and big family that was this gang surrounding you, a cacophony of sounds that has become everyday and familiar to you.

"Sweetheart."

You hear a deep voice greet you before feeling a small kiss on the crown of your head. The huge form of your lover then falls next to you. He doesn't wait for your permission to lie down, big shoulders pressing against you, his head resting snugly on your thighs, making you raise your arms to save your mending. You chuckle fondly, and he looks up at you, two blue diamonds shining with this so bright and warm joy of being close to the one you love again.

"Comfortable here?"

"Better than any fancy bed, darlin'."

You place your hands a bit further than natural, engulfing him with your arms, wanting to finish your little occupation while he rests on you. He can slightly feel your chest pressing on his forehead and think to himself this is goddamn Heaven.

And you both talk about your day. The ups, the downs. The "I missed you" and the "I wish you could have seen it too". Then, in a gentle silence, Arthur grabs his journal and pencil, drawing and writing about it and the view he's having from your lap, his favourite place to be in the whole world. He never fails to tell the story, the pages covered with your name and the things you've done or said.

Just the scratching of his pen on the paper. The weight of his head on your thigh, his chest lazily rising and falling.

apple fritters and nose bleeds

Evan doesn’t even know about Anthony for the first six months of their relationship. And like, it’s not because Tommy is trying to keep anything from him; he just doesn’t talk to Tony. Not out of any personal ignorance, either. They just…stopped talking. 

It wasn’t always that way. Obviously, being a little kid, the twin thing kept them pretty bonded. They leaned on each other a lot when they were hiding from their dad as elementary-aged kids. Both of them would do just about anything if it meant they could keep the attention off their mom and focused on one of them, especially as she got sicker with cancer. But at some point—Tommy’s not sure entirely when, but they hadn’t made it out of elementary school, and their mom had already passed—something changed. 

He didn’t really notice at first, maybe because they were both actively trying to avoid their father and his drunken antics. But after a while, it started dawning on him how often he was getting in trouble for things that both he and Tony did. Granted, it had been that way in the past two—the both of them throwing themselves on the sword for the other if a moment called for it—except Tony wasn’t falling on the sword anymore. It felt like every time Tommy turned around, he was in trouble for something else, getting the wrap for both of them even if he had nothing to do with it. 

As they got older, it got worse. Tony was the son their father always wanted: tall, muscular, straight. He enlisted in the marines before he’d even graduated. By comparison, Tommy wasn’t viewed the same way. Even though they both went through puberty at the same time, Tommy struggled in his teens. His weight fluctuated, he struggled to fit in, and he didn’t take part in the same sports his brother did. After Tony enlisted, all Tommy heard about was how great his twin brother was, how built he was, how much better of a son he was. 

So he enlisted too, in the army. He started spending more time in the gym, and by the time they both got home from basic training the summer after they both turned 18, they were passing as identical twins again with no veritable way to tell them apart. 

Still, time in the military affected them differently. Tony did his four years and got out. Tommy did his time and then signed up for pilot training, which kept him in longer. His brother settled down, got married, got a regular day job in corporate something. Whatever it was, their father raved about it the view times over the next few years that Tommy bothered to call home and mention where he was at. When he finally did get out of the military, Tony was still rarely around, and Tommy didn’t have any interest in seeking him out. He’d left California for a while, and never bothered to mention he was back. Which would’ve been fine, except, Evan. 

They’re in their favorite cafe early one morning, trying to cram in breakfast before they fly out for a trip they’ve had planned for weeks. The place is crowded—it’s Saturday and apparently there’s some parade coming in the next hour and everybody has decided that their little cafe where they had their first successful date is the place to be. People are pressed up against one another, some arguing and others whining about needing space, as he and Evan try and get through to get out to their table with their drinks and the pastries Evan insisted on getting. Did they really need apple fritters? Tommy wasn’t sure. 

But somewhere in the middle of it all, Evan gets turned around while trying to grab napkins while Tommy is a crowd of people away, watching him. He continues to watch, first in amusement, and then in horror, as Evan crosses halfway through the space, and then seems to turn off in a direction that is decidedly not Tommy, up to another man, leaning over into his ear and whispering something that, based on Evan’s face, is not going to go over well. 

And then, the other man is turning on his heel, and a fist is flying into Evan’s face before he even has time to react. 

Tommy rushes through the throng of people as they suddenly make a hole around where Evan’s at, and that’s when Tommy realizes, as he comes to perch next to Evan on the ground. 

“What the fuck, Tommy,” Evan asks, wiping at his face and coming away with blood. He looks up at Tommy perched in front of him, and then up at the man in front of him, and then does a double-take, suddenly very confused until it dawns on him. “Y-you’re not Tommy.” 

Tommy lets out an exasperated sigh as his eyes drift up the legs, torso, chest, and then finally meet the face he recognizes from the mirror. 

“Anthony.” 

“Is everything okay,” Katie calls from behind the register, pushing herself high to see over the counter. “Oh my god, Evan, do you need tissues?” 

Tommy looks up at her. “That’d be great, Katie, thanks.” 

Tommy shifts both of the coffees into one hand and slips a hand underneath Evan, pulling him up into a seated position before Evan’s able to amble himself back to his feet, just as Katie is coming around the counter with tissues while also trying to get the throngs of people refocused. She passes them to Evan with an apologetic look before glaring at Tony. 

“Take these,” Tommy tells him, practically shoving the coffees into Evan’s hands in exchange for the tissue. 

“But the apple fritters,” he complains as Tommy starts wiping at the blood on his face, only to realize there’s more still coming down. Great.

“Katie we need two more apple fritters,” he calls out loud enough for her to hear, still entirely focused on Evan. 

“Coming up,” she calls back. 

“Look, I didn’t even know you were here,” Tony comments, forcing Tommy to acknowledge his presence for the first time. 

He glances over at his brother, anger still present on his own face. 

“Why would you? You don’t call, you don’t reach out. You’re the one who left the state while I still live here, but you would assume that if someone comes up to you while in town that they’d be looking for you and not me,” Tommy growls at him. 

“Two apple fritters for Buckley and Kinard,” Katie announces from the counter. Tommy turns on his heel towards the counter and grabs the fresh pastries—in a bag this time—and then drops a ten in the tip jar for her, mouthing a thank you. He looks back at Evan again, sees the blood still soaking into the tissues. 

“We need to get this looked at,” he tells him. “Lucy’s around the corner for the parade.” 

Evan groans. “But the coffee and pastries-..” 

Tommy tilts his head at him in the we’re not arguing on this expression he’s known so well for, before he shoots one final glare at his brother. 

. . .

Around the corner, some ten or so minutes later, the bleeding has finally stopped, and Lucy has managed to convince them that Tony didn’t break Evan’s nose, but he’s likely to have some serious bruising over the next few days. 

Great. Tommy thinks. Just what they both want in all their vacation photos. Black eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a twin brother,” Evan asks, shoveling his apple fritter into his mouth after Lucy walks away. He’s more than clearly decided to move on from the violence inside the coffee house from just a few minutes before. 

“The physical violence didn’t give it away,” Tommy replies sardonically. 

“I mean aside from that,” Evan states. “Seems like that would be an important bit of information to share. Especially given what just took place.” 

Tommy sighs, turning on his heel to face Evan in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Look, Anthony made a decision a long time ago to attach himself to my father and his ideals, and when I realized that neither of them were going to show up for me the way that they should, I had to disconnect myself from it all.” 

Evan frowns. He swallows down his bite of the apple fritter. 

“Doesn’t that hurt, though,” he asks. “I mean with the whole twin thing?” 

The twin thing. There’s going to be a Wikipedia hole in the next few days about all of this, Tommy just knows it. 

“I mean yes,” he admits honestly. “Of course it does. But if I stayed wrapped up in that, I’d never get on with my life.” He leans forward and kisses the bridge of Evan’s nose, wary of its tenderness as Evan flinches slightly under his lips. “Now can we please get out of here before the parade rolls through and we get stuck for three hours? We have a flight to catch.” 

Evan smiles at him, leaning forward and nuzzling against Tommy’s nose even though his own is still sore. 

“Yes.” 

He lets Tommy pull him along back towards the truck, only glancing briefly over his shoulder when he sees the man that looks so much like his boyfriend step outside of the coffee shop they’d just come from and their eyes catch for half a second before people are in between them, blocking Evan’s sight further. 

Something more, Evan thinks, as Tommy opens the passenger door of his truck for him to get in. He needs to know more. More about Anthony, more about the discourse, more about it all. Because he can’t imagine what it’s like for Tommy to deal with the twin thing, with a sibling who’s so out of sync with him. And the part of Evan that lives to fix things thinks he just found his new project.