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figsnpassionfruits · 7 days

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Paint Away, My Little Dove - Chapter 8

A/N: wohoo this was rly fun to write holy shit. this is also my first smut ever so yay! this is also the longest chapter i have done yet so it should make up for the long wait <33 word count: 4.4k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, age gap, smut, creampie, kinda cockwarming but nor rly?, tiny bit of angst dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

It had been a few days before Arthur joined you in Strawberry. Even though you were used to spending time alone; it felt off this time. The last time you had been together was right after a robbery of a trolley station in Saint Denis went wrong. What caused you all the worry was the fact that saying goodbye was left with not the usual fuzzy and warm feeling in your chest, but more of an unrest.

But now, it felt okay again.

You were nested in the big bed in your rented room, leaning against Arthurs bicep as you rubbed your feet on his toned quads. His thick fingers were lingering on your skin, travelling from one spot to another every once in a while. The sound of the rain hitting the windows filled the air with comfort. It had been cloudy and rainy for a few days now, mimicking your state of mind.

“Dutch wants t’get back at Bronte for trickin’ us.” He mumbled; eyes set on the stained ceiling.

You sighed. This could have been avoided easily by just not believing that man. Who in their right mind would trust Angelo Bronte out of all people? “You think that’s smart?”

“Nah.” Arthur chuckled. “If there’s a reason to get back at that son of a bitch, it ain’t the robbery. Now ain’t the time anyway. Dutch’s just been blinded by money ‘n revenge.”

“You could use me as bait.”

Arthur sat up slightly, looking at you like you were a ghost. “Are ya insane, woman?” He questioned, eyes widening at the thought of putting you in such a dangerous situation. It would have been considerable if you had been one of the women at camp, who were used to being exposed to robberies and dangerous positions. But you; you were an artist. Even if you had been in life-or-death situations before, for Arthur, there was no need to put you in another.

You rested your hands on his chest, feeling the hairs on the skin prickling your palms, attempting to calm him down. “Arthur. He said he wanted me dead or alive. I don’t know what he will do to you if you don’t do as he says.” You explained, caressing an arm of his, tilting your head, trying to get him to hold eye contact with you again. “He’s got a lot of men behind him.”

“That I ain’t worried about.” Arthur took your hands into a single of his, holding them firmly by your wrists. “Darlin’, the camp doesn’t know about ya. I don’t want yerself to get involved into their plans. Not now at least. Things are too foggy.”

The rain had gotten stronger now, hitting the windows with more force than before, creating a thudding sound each time. Things were ought to get more complicated from now on. It had seemed like the air around you got a bit chillier, urging you to wrap the blanket you were sitting on now around your shoulders.

“Would it be so bad to let your camp know about me?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

……………………………………………..

The fine line between autumn and winter could create the most unpredictable weathers. What was pouring down from the sky a few days prior in masses, was now flowing peacefully on the banks. The brisk air caused the hairs on your body to rise, yet the moderate warmth of the sun demanded them to stay down.

“Not far anymore.” You mumbled, readjusting the grip on your reins as you steered your two horses, careful to not harm the wagon in the process of crossing the river.

Arthur was in front of you, taking the lead to see where it was safe for the hooves to step on. Once on dry ground again, he took out a cigarette from his pocket, igniting it and took a long inhale. Especially for him the past few days have been stressful. From Dutch’s behavior to Bronte’s games to keeping you safe. The poor man could get no rest.

As you two approached the town, the familiar character of Valentine filled your senses. The smell of the sheep and cattle entered your nose while the sound of the people talking filled your ears.

“Ya remember when ya wanted t’sell me somethin’ here?” Arthur smirked, getting off his horse and walking over to you. He offered you his hand to offer you additional support to step down from your wagon.

In response, you rolled your eyes playfully, smiling as you did so. You took his hand, feeling his secure grip on your smaller one as you stepped down, nodding at him once as a small ‘thank you’ gesture. “I’ll get the horses to the stable. They could all use a little luxury. Could you go and get us a room?”

“Yes, mam.” Arthur tipped his hat, walking off to the direction of the hotel, gladly following your order.

After disappearing from your vision, you strutted over to the front of your horses, gripping the reins of Arthurs as well, as you lead all three towards the stables. The sun had not been strong enough to dry out the ground just yet, causing your boots to turn muddier with each step you took.

“Miss Y/N!” The stableman greeted you, cheering at your presence.

“Hey, there.” You smiled, slowing your pace as you walked through the big wooden doors.

“Got quite a collection there. Instead of two, I am now seein’ three.” He joked, taking the reins from your hand, removing your horses from the wagon, and putting them into the boxes they were used to stay in. After being done with storing them, he took the reins of Arthurs Shire, looking at you with a hint of confusion expressed on his face. “What about this fella?”

“Just give him the usual package as well. He belongs to a friend of mine.”

The brunette man nodded, patting the black coated horse on the snout. “Handsome boy.”

You placed your hand on the neck of the tall horse, giving it a few pets. “Good as well.”

“You sellin’ anything while here this time?”

You pouted, taking a breath in through your nose, your eyes glued to the horse still. “Wasn’t planned. I usually send letters to the sheriff prior to make sure it’s fine with him.”

“Well, if you change your mind- go have a talk with him. He’s got a liking to you. That man won’t say no.”

Mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’, you left the stables, making your way to the infamous hotel. The locals were usually the friendliest to you here in Valentine. While passing, people greeted you with a smile or a small wave. They were used to you setting up a stand anytime you were in this town, adoring your paintings whenever they saw it.

After walking up the steps to the upper floor of the hotel, you turned to your right, moving to the room number the manager at the front deck gave you. With quiet knocks you alerted the older man inside, who opened the door not too long after, greeting you with a small smile.

“Horses are taken care of.” You remarked, taking off your shoes and coat before throwing yourself down on the soft texture of the mattress. With the relaxation of your body came the torment of your mind. Now all there was to do was to think. Think about what to say; think about what to change and think about what to do. “What will you do to Bronte?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Arthur peeked up from the table he was standing by, stopping the action of writing into his diary for a brief second. “Don’t know, sweetheart. Dutch keeps talkin’ about money. They want to get Bronte out the way to rob somethin’ bigger. Somethin’ that’s worth all the shootin’.”

“And then what?”

“Camp wants to get away. Dutch is talkin’ about some place called Tahiti. But I just don’t know any more what I want.”

Hearing those words were painful. After all this time, it seemed like his camp was still what was the most important thing to him. If they all left after getting the money they needed; he would follow. You were not present in those plans. How could you be? Arthur had refused to let you meet them for the longest time now. It was not like he was in the wrong. Yet, it still hurt. No matter what would happen he would be with his camp. And you? You were insignificant.

Noticing your silence, Arthur let out a sigh before putting down his diary. He slowly walked over to the bedframe, letting the weight of him drop down to the mattress. After still not looking up at him, he took a finger to place it underneath your chin, guiding your face up to create eye contact. “What is it that ya want, dove?”

“I want a lot.”

“Tell me then.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It can’t be.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you moved your frame to the middle of the bed, creating space for him to sit on.

Arthur placed a hand now on the side of your head, gently pressing down on it to make you lay your head on his shoulder.

“I want a farm.” You started. “And a gallery, made out of glass, just for my paintings.”

“That so?” Arthur smiled, placing a kiss on your temple.

You hummed to confirm your statement, playing with your fingers, being a little embarrassed after saying your wishes out loud.

“And where exactly would those things be?” Arthur questioned, taking a hand of yours to stop you from fidgeting with them. He had recognized your nervousness. Now again, the age gap made itself be present. You had dreams and a goal in life. For him, that was already over. All he could do was be a servant to the ones who were still fighting. His loyalty was set on the gang. That did not mean that he would simply abandon you for them. Yet, he was torn. Life had given him too many things to balance. It was on him to decide what to throw out of the equation to move things forward.

“Big Valley, maybe? I always tend to go there.”

“Big Valley, huh?”

“Yea, why?”

Arthur let out a chuckle before answering. “That’s the place we first met.”

“Oh.” You giggled. Another silence occurred, forcing the both of you to wrestle with your thoughts again. There was a certain tension in the room; as if things were left unspoken. You had so much to ask him: ‘What about me? What about us? When will you leave? What will I do once you do?’ But where were you supposed to start? Collecting your courage to confront him, you sat up, leaning your body weight on the hand that was propped up on him, earning you a puzzled look from Arthur. “Arthur, I- what are we doing here?”

“What?”

“What is this? We’re always together. We hug and cuddle but what are we doing?”

Arthur continued to stare at you, scanning his eyes all over your face, unable to read your emotions as you questioned your relationship with him. “I-“

“I was hoping you wanted me the way I want you.” There it was. The confession you had bundled up in your chest for weeks. There was no turning back now. You had poured out your heart to him in a single sentence. All that was left for you to do now was to listen what we would say. By looking at him, you could see the wheels in his head turning. He was trying desperately to think before talking.

“I do want ya, sweetheart.” Arthur confessed, placing a hand on your arm, rubbing it affectionately. “It’s just-“ He closed his eyes for a brief moment, smacking his lips once before continuing. “What could a pretty little thin’ like you get out of an old man like me?”

“Arthur, no.” You moaned, moving your body closer to his to place your palm on his brunette beard. “Why would I care about you being older than me?” You knew about the concerns Arthur had about the two of you from his diary entries. Yet this was the first time he confessed it to you verbally. “Arthur you’re the sweetest and kindest man I have ever laid my eyes on. When you asked me before what I want- I wanted to say ‘you’. I wanted to say ‘us’.” You roamed your hands all over his saddened face now, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, making him look at you. “I want us to happen, Arthur. I wanna be yours.” As your voice got quieter but needier, you moved his arm away from his torso, gathering your courage to sit on his lap, your hands still placed near his face. “Please.” You begged, starting to slowly move your hips on his groin. “Call me yours.”

Arthur clenched his jaw at your words, slamming his eyes shut for a second before giving into your devotion. He places his rough hands on your face, pulling you down to him to slam his lips onto yours.

His harsh handling alone made you moan into the kiss, moving your lips to the rhythm of his. It did not take too long for the both of you to roam each other’s mouths with your tongues, the act getting more frantic as the milliseconds passed.

Arthur placed his hands onto your rear, squeezing it tightly and pulling you closer to him to release the tension that had now formed in his tight black pants. He sat up fully, moving his hands now to grasp your hips, flipping you over onto your back. For a second, he broke the kiss, looking into your eyes, scanning you for any hesitation. Not finding any, he dived back into the kiss, causing your heart to beat faster and faster in anticipation.

“Arthur…” You whimpered against his lips, thrusting your lower body in an attempt to get more friction to your heat.

“I know, darlin’.” He whispered, moving his hands down your body, the calloused skin feeling like rocks against your soft frame.

Being displeased about the fact that you were both fully clothed, you took matters into your own hands, leaning on your elbows to pull Arthur shirt over his head after you undid the first few upper buttons.

After mirroring the same action, Arthur slid his hand to your now exposed neck, sucking on skin next to it. He opted to slide his other down to your pants, bringing you closer by gripping the thin fabric, pressing your naked chests closer.

“Take off your clothes.” You managed to whisper in between hungry kisses.

A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest before he obligated to your request, pulling down his pants propping himself on one arm that was placed next to head on the mattress.

While he was occupied with his, you took off your own, leading to the both of you exposing all of your skin. Placing your hands back on his neck, you pulled him down to you, your lips not being able to get enough of his.

Unhurried, Arthur slithered his hand down your stomach, moving it closer to your cunt. Once there, he cupped it gently, making you moan quietly as you thrusted your hip against it.

“Easy, sweetheart.” He grumbled, the feeling of his hand on your heat sucking the air from your chest.

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear as he started to move his head down, a shaky groan rolling through his chest as a response.

Setting his hands on the back of your knees, Arthur flipped your legs up, moving an arm of his to hold them up with a single limb. The fresh air hit your warm cunt, causing you to bite your lip at not only the feeling but also on the sight in front of you. “Please.” You begged, tilting your head at the man who was keeping you in place.

The pecks he delivered to your inner thighs travelled closer and closer to where you wanted him, his eyes on you like a predator stalking his prey. He had never heard sounds as pretty as the ones you were giving him, begging to be touched. A thick finger of his swiped through your wet folds, wanting to hear your melodies again. “You’re already soaked for me, dove.” He rasped before putting his face closer to you, his beard tickling your delicate skin. It did not take his tongue long to find your bundle of joy, flicking it continuously, making you close your eyes and lean your head back into the cushions.

“God, Arthur.” You moaned, your voice getting higher from the way your nerves were getting tickled by the sensation.

“Ya taste so good.” He murmured, crawling back up to you to engulf you in another heated kiss, demanding you to taste yourself on his tongue. Arthur began to sink his middle finger into you, deepening the kiss for only a split second before he propped himself back up, staring into your eyes to make sure it felt okay. “This alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, letting out small gasps in a pathetic attempt to respond to him.

Arthur cooed at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you squirmed. “Don’t gotta talk. That nod’s good enough. Lemme take care of ya.” His voice got lower and lower with each word, the lust in his body taking over. The finger inside you was curled now, pulling small moans from you. For him, the sounds you were making came straight from heaven. Why did the two of you refuse this for so long?

“I need you inside me.” You cried softly, moving your hips faster against his hand.

“Easy, now.” Arthur rebuked, pulling his hand out of you, causing you to let out a whine. “Ya wanna take me already?”

Giving yourself a small moment to think about his question, you shook your head, making Arthur tilt his head. “I wanna taste you as well.” You demanded, pushing his body off you to put yourself on all fours.

Arthur was now on his knees, allowing you to take control for the meantime. His already hard cock was in front you, throbbing and asking to be touched in any way. As you put a hand on his dick, Arthurs hands travelled to your hair, holding it back and out of your face to allow himself to have no blockage of the view. With eyes set on his blue ones, you licked a trail from his base to his tip, causing Arthur to let out a low moan as he leaned his head back. After all the years of torment and stress his body has been going through, this was needed; badly.

You wrapped your lips around his cock, focusing on the tip when you swirled your tongue as you bopped your head. Your hand was travelling along on his cock, making sure to stroke what you were not able to fit into your mouth.

“You’re a pretty little thing, ain’t ya? Good girl.” Arthur cussed, the breath in his voice hitching as you kept sucking him off.

As a reply you hummed around him, Arthur whimpering at the sound of it.

“Just lemme-“ Arthur noted, placing a hand on the back of your neck while the other found his way below your chin. “Keep yer mouth open for me, darlin’, alright?”

You looked up at him, nodding once to let him know whatever was coming was okay for you. You noticed the hesitation in him. Arthur required your approval for every single thing he wished to do. The poor man had been through so much in his life. This was a way for you to let him release it all. If anyone deserved it, it was Arthur.

With your permission, he started to thrust into your mouth, the action creating vulgar sounds that filled the hotel room.

“Got the prettiest little throat.” Arthur groaned, saying the words in between the fast thrusts he was doing. He licked his lips once before moderately slowing them down, only to push your head further into him, letting go of you once you gagged. A trail of spit remained glued from his cock to your lips when you pulled back, his eyes darkening with craving at the sight of it.

After collecting your breath, you looked up at the man from your hands and knees, flashing a big smile and biting your bottom lip.

“Ya really like this, don’t cha?”

You hummed in approval, a hand of yours pumping his cock, refusing to leave it without any attention. “Now, I want you inside of me.”

As a reply, Arthur flipped you onto your back again, one single hand holding both of your legs up by the back of your knees. He first placed a thumb on your clit, skillfully rubbing a figure eight against the sensitive patch.

The eye contact you both remained could turn anyone primal. Sucking air in between your teeth, you moaned his name, needy to feel his cock in you.

Once he removed his hand from your heat, Arthur soaked in the view from your wet folds, this angle allowing him to take in each pore.

In protest from the lack of touch, you slid your own hand down your body, rubbing yourself with three fingers.

Instead of fighting for the control, Arthur simply watched your hand, enjoying the sight of your delicate fingers rubbing against your glistening body. “No art of yers is gonna be able to touch the beauty of this.”

You giggled at his words, your heartbeat speeding up as he propped himself up, licking his own hand for some lubrication to rub it on his tip before pumping his shaft a few times. Once he contacted your skin, he rubbed himself against your soaked cunt. As he sank himself slowly into you, you hissed at the feeling of being stretched out by the man you were in love with. To get him closer to you, you put a hand on the back of his neck, forcing him to lean his forehead against yours as he disappeared in you, inch by inch, letting out a long and low groan as he did.

“Atta girl,” He breathed out, the large hand he had placed on your legs now gripping tighter onto the thin skin there. “Takin’ me so good already.”

“You feel so good.” You moaned out, pupils wide and mouth hanging open at the filling feeling of him inside you. Your pulse was now at its high, your heart feeling like it could burst out of your chest.

Arthur placed several light kisses on your legs, hip hips now slowly going back and forth, watching his cock get more soaked with each time he pulled back of you. After a while of repeating this, he struggled with holding himself back from gaining speed, asking you if it was alright for him to take things faster. With a nod and still the deep stare into his eyes, he began to pick up pace to a more relentless one, pumping his cock into you, setting a pace that was rough, yet not animalistic.

The pressure in your abdomen continued to boil, the speed of his thrusts being exactly what you needed. The desperation in your moans and whines built themselves up, your legs squirming more and more, causing Arthur to grip your body painfully now to keep himself steady and to not crush your frame with his weight.

A hand that Arthur previously had on your breasts, moved down to your clit once more, rubbing the spot gently, yet rapid.

Your thighs began to shake, a hand of your own now shutting your own mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet from the amount of pleasure Arthur was giving to you.

“You’re okay.” Arthur groaned, a hint of desperation behind his voice, nipping at the skin on your calves as you continued to shake.

Loud cries escaped your mouth as his thumb rubbed the circles faster and faster. With a whine of his name your walls clenched around his cock, tightly wrapping it.

To allow you to come down from your high, Arthur stopped his thrusts, letting go of your legs to lean down to kiss your closed eyelids which were fluttering. “Ya alright?” He asked, doing his best to keep his movements as minimal as possible while being buried deep in you.

You nodded, smiling at him. “Want you to come inside me.”

Arthur smirked at you, moving his body in a way that allowed you to spread your legs only for you to wrap them around his core. The feeling of your legs tight against him caused him to go back to his relentless speed in a matter of seconds, eliminating the quiet moment you just had, filling the air again with the sound of skins slapping and your frantic cries.

“W-want you to fill me up.” You managed to say in between your euphoria, and that was all that Arthur needed to convince him.

With a couple more bruising thrusts he buried himself to a halt, emptying himself in hot intervals into you, groaning loudly. Arthur lazily leaned his forehead to yours, smiling at you with his eyes closed. “Jesus.”

“Not quite.” You giggled, making him roll his eyes at your comment. When he tried to remove himself, you shut your legs tighter around him, silently asking him to stay buried in you for only a little bit longer.

Arthur wrapped his arms around you, puling you closer to him, lingering kisses all over your face.

You brushed your nose against his when he travelled his lips from one side to another, forcing a bigger smile from him.

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #paint away #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x you

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figsnpassionfruits · 7 days

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#ugh

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figsnpassionfruits · 10 days

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Kiss The Cook

He catches you cooking in the kitchen

The delicious aromas wofted throughout the house as the sound of sizzling and cutting somewhat echoed through the kitchen, he watched you intently as you swayed your hips humming the tone of whatever song was in your head.

Your body jerked as he placed his arms around you bringing your body against his as he settled his head on your shoulder watching you work your magic but he'd soon grow bored and try excite you.

His hands would slowly make their way to your ass squeezing and slapping it before slipping their way under your shirt up to your boobs his fingers tugging and playing with your nipples, he'd keep you trapped against the counter with his body as he toyed with you.

His body would grind into yours showing you how hard he is as he attached his lips to your neck whispering all kinds of dirty things, his hands slowly pulling off each piece of clothing you had on.

Your hands gripped the edge of the counters as he thrusted into you, your moans and whines drowning out the sound of the cooking food, his hands would tug and push your hair keeping you down on the counter your struggled moans turning to whines against the marble counter.

Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barry Allen, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan, Peter Parker, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Thor, Bucky Barnes

#ugh #fic recs #😵‍💫#could be legit anyone

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figsnpassionfruits · 10 days

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Who You Belong To

Pairing: Raymond Smith x Reader x Tangerine

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only

Notes: Aaaaaaand 800 years later, I finished writing one of those things I said I was writing. Not Beta-read.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content—cumshot, oral sex, fingering, rough sex, vaginal sex, threesome, creampie, cumplay

Summary: It’s in the way Tangerine’s jaw tightens; in how he yanks the cigarette from his lips and flicks it away rather than savoring the last drag. It’s in the way he yanks your car door open, snaps, “In,” Rather than hold it open for you with a wink like he usually does. Raymond trails you all the way to the car, giving Tangerine a knowing, scathing look over the top of his glasses before he turns down to you with a warmer, far more hospitable gaze.

You know it’s a mistake as soon as it happens. You and Tangerine aren’t exclusive, of course. You’re certain he’d balk if you ever called him your boyfriend, your significant other, or anything of the sort. He’s your fuckbuddy, and that’s that.

But he’s also a possessive little fucker. So you realize that the second he sees you with Raymond—the second he clocks your rumpled, untucked blouse and his ruffled hair—he’ll know.

You can see that he does. It’s in the way Tangerine’s jaw tightens; in how he yanks the cigarette from his lips and flicks it away rather than savoring the last drag. It’s in the way he yanks your car door open, snaps, “In,” Rather than hold it open for you with a wink like he usually does. Raymond trails you all the way to the car, giving Tangerine a knowing, scathing look over the top of his glasses before he turns down to you with a warmer, far more hospitable gaze.

“Lovely doing business with you,” Raymond says. Maybe he knows he’s twisting the screws. Maybe he had been able to tell before—from the way that Tangerine watches you, from how his tone would soften as he turns from speaking to Lemon to speaking to you. Maybe Raymond can tell, and truly didn't care as he bent you over his desk in the Lore of the Land, just after you’d finished talking business. You’ll likely never know. So for now, you just give him a smile and grit out your thanks.

Raymond nods and turns his gaze to Tangerine, shutting your door gently—the exact antithesis of Tangerine’s behavior just moments ago. You watch as he and Raymond share a contentious gaze before Tan is rounding the car to get into the driver's side. You flinch just a touch as he slams the car door shut and starts up the car. You glance at Lemon over your shoulder, and find him pointedly avoiding your gaze.

The ride back to the safe house is uncomfortably silent. You turn on the radio once, and hear three solid notes of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now before Tangerine's hand shoots out, whacking off the power again. When you look at him, he keeps his focus set staunchly through the windshield.

That's bad.

Usually he'll at least shoot you a wink and a smile before refocusing on the road. Now, you just get a good view of his tense jaw, his harsh expression, and one short, irritated sniffle.

Tangerine's out of the car first. You don't move; you don't even flinch when the car door slams shut again.

"...I'm just gonna sleep in here," You say after a moment. Lemon snorts.

"That's not gonna solve anythin'. He'll just come an' find you."

You groan, kicking your feet childishly before you finally get out. You shut the door, rounding the car to Lemon's side and looking up at the large, dark townhouse that you've rented for your short stay in London.

"...I'm gonna get some chips," Lemon says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, great! I'll—"

"Go see if Tan wants anythin', will you?" Lemon plows on, beginning to wander away. "Text me. Thanks—and good luck."

You puff out an irritated breath, watching him go. You consider going somewhere else yourself, but a little bit of you knows that you're probably better off just taking your lumps now.

You can hear Tangerine upstairs—stomping from room to room, opening and closing doors, cabinets. You sigh heavily, shrugging out of your coat and kicking your shoes off. You hang the coat up on one of the hooks, double-check that you've locked the door, and then make your way upstairs.

As you round onto the landing, you spy Tangerine out of the corner of your eye, heading down the hall. For a moment, you consider following him. Then you turn, heading into the kitchen instead. You can probably get a drink in before he loses his sweet mind on you.

You pour one for each of you. Hell, if he doesn’t drink it, you will. You push yourself up onto the counter, swinging your feet. You hear him stomping his way down the hall, then it goes quiet. You can feel his looming presence as he waits in the doorway. You don’t turn to meet his gaze; you don’t ask if he wants his drink. You just take a sip of yours. Tangerine brushes past you, taking up his glass. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him throw it back before he slams the glass down. You spare him a scathing glance before taking another sip from your glass.

“What the fuck was that?” He spits.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, you’re not.”

“No.”

“Really.”

“Not a clue.”

“You’re going to pretend that nothing happened?”

“What exactly do you think happened between myself and Mr. Smith?”

Tangerine rounds to stand in front of you. You’ve no warning before he’s shoving his hand up your skirt. You suck in a nervous breath, but don’t move otherwise, even as he spears two fingers into your still-slick, tender cunt. He crowds closer as your pussy throbs around the intrusion.

“You’re gonna tell me you’re this wet just from him holdin’ a fuckin’ door open for ya?” Tangerine glowers at you down the end of his nose. “Hm? You’re really gonna tell me that?”

“...Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not you’d believe it.”

Tan’s expression closes off, eyes going dark, and mean. He begins to pump his fingers roughly, palm grinding against your clit. Your lips part in surprise, hips jolting into his touch.

“Ah no. No no,” He shakes his head. “You an’ I both know what the fuck you did.”

“And you and I both know that I can fuck whoever I goddamn wa—ant,” Your breath hitches in your throat as Tangerine gives a particularly rough shove of his fingers.

“Sweet that you think that, sweetheart.”

Tangerine raises his other hand to grasp your throat. He draws you close by it, forehead knocking against yours. He draws your lower lip between his teeth, giving it a harsh tug before he draws his head back.

“Take my cock out,” He orders. You reach down, working at his button and zip, hissing as Tangerine’s fingers flex around your throat. “What’d you do for him? Huh?” Tangerine asks.

“Who says I did anything for him?” You ask, grasping Tangerine and giving him a few strokes. “Maybe he did it for me.”

“Would explain why your cunt’s so slick. What, he slobber all over it?”

“Slobber has to be the most unsexy word in the English language.”

“What, ahead of moist?”

“I don’t think moist is actually all that bad—Sonofabitch,” You draw in a gasp as Tangerine draws his fingers out of you, pinching your clit. You try to squeeze your legs shut, but Tangerine muscles between them, shifting from foot to foot.

“You gonna give me any more lip?”

“I think that’s almost guaranteed, Tan, yeah.”

“Christ alive—You just never know when to stop, do ya?”

“Never have a good reason to—oo,” You hiss as Tangerine draws you across the counter, shoving his cock into you without warning or hesitation. “Fucking hell.” You reach out, curling your fingers in the fabric of his waistcoat.

“There are those sweet words I like so much. You woo ‘im with those, too?” Tangerine’s words are punched out word by word, matched thrust for thrust. You whimper at his harshness, and the way his hand slips from your throat to squeeze the nape of your neck. It’s a treatment you’ve only ever been privy to when a job has gone wrong, or very nearly wrong. In your estimation, this had been a pretty calm interaction. You’d gotten in and out in one piece; you’d even managed to make a friend, in a sense—though Tangerine clearly hadn’t warmed to Raymond the way that you had.

“What was he like? Huh?” Tan grunts, “Did he fuck you like this?”

“N-No,” You mumble.

“No?” “Nn-nn.” You let your lips curl into a malicious smirk. “He did it better.”

“Fucking—” Tangerine pulls out of you, yanking you off of the surface and turning you around. He shoves you into the counter, bending you over hard marble and driving into you. Your breath punches out of you, head bowing forward. You’re glad he turned you around; he can’t see your giddy grin. You knew he’d take the bait. You’re certain you could come like this, but—

You whine as Tangerine pulls out. You begin to turn to look at him, to ask, but he presses his hand between your shoulder blades, keeping you down over the counter with a grumbled order of, “Stay the fuck there.” His voice is breathy, and low. You can hear his heavy breathing, and the slick stroke of his hand on his cock. You draw in a whimper, fingers flexing against the counter as you feel his cum splatter across your plumped, heated pussy. You wriggle, toes curling in your shoes.

“Gimme your phone,” He orders. You fish into your pocket of your jacket, passing it over before Tangerine plucks ut out of your hand. You swipe your tongue across your lips.

“What are you doing?”

Tangerine doesn’t answer for a moment; you just feel him shoving your skirt up, followed by the sound of the camera shutter clicking a couple of times. Then the skirt is dropped back down, and you hear the tapping of Tangerine typing.

“What are you doing, Tangerine?”

“Showing your friend…” He tosses the phone onto the counter beside your head. “Who you belong to.” You flinch as he slaps your ass roughly, and you feel the heat of him falling away. “Get yourself cleaned up, love.”

You push yourself up on shaking arms as you hear him walking away. You turn your head, eyeing the photo sent to Raymond’s contact—Tangerine’s hand, his signet ring fully visible, grasping your skirt and displaying your cum-splattered cunt. You shiver, bowing your head forward as embarrassment flashes through you. It’s heightened as your phone flashes with Raymond’s incoming call. You don’t dare not answer him. You reach out with a shaking hand and tap to accept the call before raising it to your ear.

“...Bring him to the address I’m going to send you,” Raymond orders.

“I have to get cleaned up—”

“Don’t. Just come over here.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

You mumble your thanks as Raymond passes you a glass of scotch. You don’t take a sip right away. You just shift from foot to foot as you lean back against his counter. Raymond’s home is just like his desk at the Lore of the Land—pristine, neat, with everything in its place. Raymond shoots you a wink as he turns back toward you, and you have to bite back a smile.

Tangerine’s watching closely, and you’ve been in enough trouble today as it is.

You watch as Raymond rounds to where Tangerine is sitting at Raymond’s dining room table, proffering a glass to him as well. Tangerine’s gaze darts between it and Raymond; you can see his eye twitching a touch at Raymond’s boozy little olive branch. When Tangerine doesn’t take it, Raymond sets it down on the table in front of him with a mutter of, “Right.”

Then Raymond turns, heading back toward the kitchen. He stops between the two of you, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I seem to have ruffled a few feathers.”

“You didn’t ruffle anything—” You start to insist.

“That shit we handled with you an’ Pearson, she wasn’t part’a the deal,” Tangerine cuts over you.

“I didn’t think that she was.” Raymond’s brows raise. He seems more amused than annoyed; Tangerine seems like he’d like to rip Raymond’s head off just about now.

“And I didn’t act like I was,” You counter.

“If I’d known that…associating with your colleague would’ve made such an impact on your mood…” Raymond smiles, leaning against the counter beside you, “I would’ve done it twice.”

You scoff a laugh, unable to help it. “You’re not making this better.”

“Who said I was trying to?”

“Wow.”

“Alrigh’,” Tangerine hops up, grasping the glass of scotch and draining it before slamming it down so hard that you’re certain it’ll crack. “We’re going.”

“I think you ought to stay,” Raymond says. “I could teach you a thing or two.”

“There is not a goddamn thing you could teach me.”

“I think there are a few things that I could teach you.”

“Like what?”

“How to treat a lady, for one.”

“You think I don’t know how to treat my girl?”

“Your girl?” Raymond repeats, brows tipping up as he glances between the two of you. “Oh…That’s not what she told me.”

Panic and arousal surge through you as Tangerine’s gaze snaps toward you, eyes narrowing a touch. You just give a little shrug, raising your glass to your lips and taking a sip.

“Did you get cleaned up?” Raymond asks, glancing toward you. You shake your head. Raymond hums thoughtfully, holding his hand out to you. You hesitate, glancing warily toward Tangerine before you set your glass aside, taking Raymond’s hand. You let him lead you to the table, biting your lip as he nods for you to sit on the edge of it. You settle down, scooching back and letting him push your legs wide.

“Now,” Raymond slides his hands up over your bare thighs, “Typically, I do not abide by mess.”

“You told me not to clean up,” You pout.

“I did. I think we could teach your friend a lesson.”

“A lesson,” Tangerine repeats, shifting from foot to foot and folding his arms across his chest. “You fuck ‘er once and you think you’ve got the lay of the land? You think she knows what she likes?”

“Not at all,” Raymond smiles, fingers stroking over your plumped, tender cunt. “I know what she needs.”

If you were a touch less tense, you’d be able to laugh at the way Tangerine goes red with irritation.

“You don’t know jack shit, mate,” He seethes.

“Oh?” Raymond glances up at you, shooting you a wink. “Well, why don’t you come and show me what I don’t know.”

It’s all Tangerine needs before he’s practically charging across the room and shoving Raymond out from between your legs. Raymond hardly wobbles as Tangerine drops into the chair in front of you. You yelp as he grasps you by the hips, tugging you to the edge of the table and diving in. You draw in a gasp, eyelids fluttering as Tangerine laps hungrily at you. Your gaze flickers to Raymond, grinning as he rounds to lean down beside you.

“Is that what you needed?” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. You smile hazily, tipping your chin up pleadingly.

“Yes, Raymond.”

Raymond smiles, catching your lips in a kiss. You prop yourself up on your hands, wobbling just a touch as you raise one to cup his bearded cheek. You suck his plush lower lip with a soft sigh, parting your lips to tease his tongue with yours. You groan as you feel Tangerine draw back.

“Oi!” He barks, “The hell is it worth being down ‘ere if you’re just gonna suck fa—”

Tangerine doesn’t finish his argument as you feel him pressing sharply against your cunt again. You turn your head from Raymond’s engrossing kisses, eyes widening at the sight of Raymond’s palm resting on the back of Tangerine’s head, shoving him down. You scoff out a stunned laugh as Raymond’s fingers tighten in Tangerine’s hair. You hinge forward as you feel Tangerine moans against you.

“I didn’t think he’d take this from anyone,” You admit, shifting and propping one of your feet up on the table and easing your hips down against his lips. Raymond hums, nuzzling your jaw.

“People like him can talk a big game, but they need someone to answer to.”

“And that someone is you?” You tip your head to the side, raising your brows.

“Right now,” Raymond smiles. “But if you play your cards right, it could be you.”

“I’m usually the one taking orders.”

Tangerine draws back with a sucking kiss, grunting. “She’s bloody good at it, too.”

You pout, reaching down and giving his forehead a gentle push.

“I’m right here, asshole.”

“Be kind,” Raymond urges, squeezing the nape of your neck in a tender scolding. “He’s a little mouthy, but he’s a good boy who cleans up his messes.”

“Don’t call me a boy,” Tangerine hisses.

“Don’t act like one,” Raymond bats back without blinking an eye. He just shoves Tan’s head back between your thighs, and you jump at the bristly scrape of his mustache, unable to help the way your thighs tense and twitch around his head. You expect more of a fight, but Tangerine just grasps your thighs, fingers tightening around your hips as he groans against your slick, heated flesh.

“Do you think you can handle it?” Raymond asks against your jaw.

“Handle what?” You breathe, and your head spins as he tips his chin up, murmuring low in your ear:

“Both of us.”

It’s not the fight you imagined. Tangerine has fallen in line just as well as you have, and is on far better behavior than you could've ever imagined. He hisses through his teeth as you blink hazily up at him, your lips parted and your jaw dropped as he eases his cock in and out of your panting mouth.

You hear tandem groans, and you arch your back, tipping your hips down toward Raymond as he eases into your aching pussy. He shushes you softly, fingers skimming over your supple hips and gently nudging you to settle back down onto the table. It’s a struggle; your torn between obeying his command and fucking down against his length. You whimper as Raymond begins to fuck you with long, languorous strokes. It’s an almost lazy punctuation to the way that Tangerine’s hips thrust and jerk, spearing his dick into your mouth.

“Slow down,” Raymond counsels as he draws his cock back, lingering with the tip tucked snugly in your cunt, “You’ll pop before she’s anywhere near.”

You turn your head from Tangerine, letting him slip from your lips as you peer up at Raymond, quipping, “He usually does.” The words are hardly out of your mouth before you’re yelping, knees jolting around Raymond’s hips as Tangerine slaps one of your tits sharply, growling,

“Cheeky.”

“Dickhea—” You hardly get it out before Tangerine grasps your head, shoving his cock back between your lips. You whine as you feel Raymond’s hands plant on either side of you, his hips beginning to punch more harshly, despite their slowed thrusts. You raise a hand, grasping Raymond’s forearm tightly as your body fights to recognize and categorize every feeling rippling through you. It’s difficult to focus. There’s heat all around you; your mouth is heavy with Tangerine’s weight, your lips stretching with his girth, your tongue, thick with his taste; your cunt stretches and aches as Raymond measures and doles out his thrusts with even, steady, measured composure.

You want to rattle Raymond. It’s not fair that you can so reduce Tangerine to wanton neediness, but seem to have no such effect on Raymond. Why can’t you shake him? Why can’t you—

Your mind turns to static as Tangerine makes you gag, and Raymond’s cock brushes a spot inside you that makes you keen and throb. You’re so—so full. You’ve never felt so terribly overwhelmed, so horribly distracted while having sex. Tangerine is wonderful on his own, of course, and has been a taskmaster in his own right, but he shows an almost childish impertinence now in the way he shoves into your mouth with a force that has spit and precum spilling from the sides of your parted lips. Raymond’s measured pace is almost more of a hindrance than a help. His counter-pace is driving you to distraction. You can’t bring yourself to time your movements to Tangerine or Raymond’s thrusts. You’re caught too sharply in between. You’re—scrambled. Tangerine is in a race to the finish line; Raymond seems to have all the time in the world. You’re just grasping to each of them in desperation, practically struggling to breathe, let alone respond to the way the two of them use you so thoroughly.

“You’re going to bust, aren’t you,” Raymond asks him almost boredly. Tangerine doesn’t even argue, just groans as his grip tightens in your hair. You splutter and choke, eyes watering as his hips rabbit, and his cock spills down your throat. You tighten your grip on Raymond, on the only thing anchoring you. Tangerine groans low in his throat, hips jittering before he plops back into a seat with a panting gasp. He doesn’t remain stationary for long—Raymond reaches out, gripping Tangerine’s head and steering him toward your still-stinging nipple. Tangerine seems to almost stumble out of his seat, hands planting roughly beside your body as he swirls his tongue around the pebbled flesh.

It’s almost mesmerizing, the way Raymond takes you apart. A single strand of hair springs loose from his neat style; his cheeks tinge pink from exertion; the swell of sweat makes his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose. Now and again, his tongue sweeps over his plush lips before they part in a shuddering pant.

He’s rattled, just a little. It makes you preen, and arch down into his touch, tipping your head back to allow Tangerine more room for his bruising nips, and sucks, and kisses. He doesn’t let up, even as you grasp and tug his hair with a warning groan.

“Poor baby,” Tangerine murmurs. “All wound up, aren’t ya.”

“Shut up,” You mumble shakily.

“Took so long for fancy-pants to send you off, mm?”

“Shut up.”

“Should’ve told me you were such a soft-touch. Needed a little pamperin’.”

“I don’t need to be pampered—Oh!” You shriek as Raymond lands a stinging whack to your hip.

“Be nice,” Raymond tuts as he thumbs one of your tender nipples.

“I am being nice,” You whine. “He’s being an ass.”

“Such pretty words from such a messy mouth,” Tangerine coos. You whimper despite his taunts, tightening your grasp on his hair and on Raymond’s forearm as the coiling feeling in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. Your hips tip down against Raymond, and against his attentive, slick fingers as he swipes them over your throbbing clit. Your orgasm wells up slowly, and you moan as you cum. The sensation seems to ripple through you, your jaw dropped in heated want as your cunt ripples around Raymond’s cock.

You’re vindicated by the grunt that seems to be punched out of him, and the way his cock pulses and twitches. The heat and slickness of his spend makes your nails rake down over his forearm. He hums softly, bowing over you. You shiver as he presses a kiss to the other side of your neck.

“Atta girl,” Raymond murmurs. “Is that what you needed?”

“Mhm,” You hum high in your throat, heavy eyelids dropping as you nod dazedly. Raymond squeezes your hip, giving you a moment before he draws back.

“Fuck,” You breathe as he spreads your thighs.

“Tangerine,” He urges. You watch as he grasps the back of Tangerine's neck, steering him back between your thighs. You jump at the first brush of his tongue, jolting up and eyeing Tangerine as he laps at your aching cunt, and Raymond’s spend.

“What are you doing?”

“Reminding him,” Raymond murmurs, brushing his beard roughly against your neck, “Who you belong to.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell

#whewwwww #fic recs #😵‍💫#ugh

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figsnpassionfruits · 10 days

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y’all don’t even know how excited I am to write this upcoming chapter nsjsksnsnn

#paint away #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan

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figsnpassionfruits · 13 days

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thank you so much for 100 followers <33

#🍯

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figsnpassionfruits · 13 days

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Fuck her like a dirty little slut and take care of her like the lovely princess she is.

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figsnpassionfruits · 14 days

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Paint Away, My Little Dove - Chapter 7

A/N: I am so excited to release the upcoming chapters. I've got lots n lots of stuff planned, including experimenting with a few elements. this chapter was a lot of fun to write and i basically finished it in one day and i hope you guys like it <33 word count: 2.5k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, age gap, tiny bit of angst if you squint dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

The smell of the wildflowers seemed to have an extra strong smell today. It was no surprise, given that at the Eastern Grizzlies all water bodies were surrounded by the colorful blossoms and the bees buzzing around them. Sometimes it was worth to take in the nature by itself without a brush in your hand and a canvas in front of it. And the one person who would keep urging you to do exactly that was Arthur.

“I told Charles about ya.” He said, moving hips along the easy tempo his Shire was walking.

It was hard trying to match his pace due to the fact that your horse kept stopping to nibble on flourished bright green grass. Pulling the reins constantly to get it to stop could get tiring.

“So you got over your little fear, huh? When will I meet him then?” You smirked, glancing over to him.

“Haven’t decided yet. Don’t worry your pretty little head ‘bout it.”

Summer was slowly coming to an end as the chill in the air made itself noticeable. Around these areas autumn could not be lived through without a jacket. Arthur had gifted you a coat, made from an elk he had hunted. ‘Couldn’t tell ‘em ‘twas for ya.’ He said when he gave it to you. Of course; it was way too big on your body. Apparently he had told his friend from camp, who created it, that it was for himself. Even though you were basically drowning in it, it was keeping you warm. There was no way you would not appreciate that.

While watching the tall brunette on his horse, you came up with the idea of challenging him to a little race. Why ride this slow when the path was completely empty? Why not have some fun? But you would not give him the benefit of a fair game. Who does that anyway?

“First one to the bridge wins!” You yelled out, kicking both feet at the sides of your horse, breaking out into a canter right away. As you leaned forward, knuckles turning white from the strong grip you had on the reins, you urged your horse to speed up. You heard a disgruntled sound from Arthur in the back, which quickly turned into the sound of his horses’ hooves galloping faster and faster. After taking a quick glance to the back, you turned to the front again, feeling the wind go through your hair which was flowing recklessly next to your face. Anytime Arthur would come close, you would move your horse accordingly, blocking him from taking the lead.

After a few seconds, both of you reached the bridge, you earlier than him.

“I win.” You cheered, a big smile on your face.

Arthur brought his horse to a halt, dropping down from it before giving it a few affectionate pats to its shoulder. “I let ya win.” He mumbled, walking over to where your position was. “Lemme help ya down.”

Accepting his offer, you let go off your reins, turning your body to face Arthur and let your weight drop into his open arms. Once on your feet, his firm hands were still on either side of your body, his lips quirking up at the corners to give you a lazy smile.

Both of you were panting from the previous adrenaline rush. Even though he was wearing his signature hat, you could tell that his hair was a mess. The ends of his curls were intertwined with each other which only a comb could clear up.

“Your hair.” You put your right hand up to his shoulder, resting your wrist on it to let your fingertips play with the brunette strands.

“Yer hair’s a mess too.” Arthur mumbled in a low voice, mimicking your gesture.

The tension of the eye contact you were holding with him caused you to trap your bottom lip between your teeth. Even after all this time you spent with him, you still could not hide the smiles that managed to break through.

“Whatchu smilin’ for?” Arthur cocked his head, his brows furrowing in an amused way.

In response you simply shook your head, moving your hand from his meaty shoulder to his stubbled face. The hair was thick, and not entirely soft, transmitting a ticklish feeling to your palm.

Even though he was holding himself back, he could not help but lean slightly forward. His body language was not afraid of showing the attraction he felt towards you. He let the weight of his head drop onto your hand, tilting it to the side as he did so. “Yer real’ pretty today.”

Gosh, could this get any more perfect? That sentence was all it took you to build up your confidence and swallow your pride. You got on your toes, leaning closer to Arthur, closing the distance between you both. You did not lunge forward; no. It was more of a slow movement, allowing him to realize what was happening. You placed your other hand on his robust chest, feeling a hand of his on your lower back while the other was kept on the side of your neck.

His grip was firm yet soft while the kiss deepened. Arthur leaned down even further, granting your toes to collide with the ground again. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, asking for entry.

How could you say no to that?

As your tongues explored each other, you felt him inhale strongly, pulling you even closer by the waist.

At a slow pace you pulled apart before Arthur placed another small peck on your lips. You leaned forward, resting your forehead on his chest for a second. Then you felt a finger on your chin, making you to look up to meet the eyes of Arthur.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” You smiled, your hands now fidgeting with the hem of his blue shirt.

“I’m with ya on that, darlin’.”

…………………………………………………..

Along with the drop of the temperatures, the water was now cooler as well. As Arthur sank further into it, washing himself by rubbing it all over him, you wondered whether you should have joined him. His pale skin was glistening underneath the setting sun, the waterdrops clinging on to the hairs on his body. With a swift motion he dunked his head into the lake, and slicked back his hair as he came up. The scene in front of you seemed like it came straight out of a utopian art piece. If only your talent was enough for animals and humans, this was exactly what you would have wanted to paint.

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board created a rhythmic flow. Chopping vegetables was an easy enough task, therefore throwing a glance or two out the window to stare at Arthur in the lake could not be a crime. Once done throwing the small pieces into a bowl, you dried your hands on a small towel on the counter. While doing so, Arthurs leather bag caught the attention of your peripheral vision. It was laying on the table, a book peeking out of its opening.

You were not one to be snooping through the belongings of others. However, Arthur had told you often about his diary, yet never showed you it. There could be no harm in taking a quick look, right? Making sure that he was still occupied with a hurried glance to the lake, you took the journal into your hand, turning page after page to find anything about yourself.

And there it was; sketches of you. So many.

One of them portrayed you on your wooden stool, painting the mountains in big valley. It was detailed to its extent. If it was not for the visible strokes of the pen, it could have been mistaken for a picture. Arthur seemed to have given each strand of your hair and each scrunch of your dress his attention. Your index finger carefully stroked over it while you admired the beautiful drawing. Next to it was a writing, which could not be left unnoticed.

‘Met this pretty lady near Strawberry today. Sassy little thing. Seems to like to rob people legally by asking for ridiculous prices for her art. Her painting wasn’t quite finished yet. Looked real’ promising though.’

A few pages after, another sketch of you. This time, it was when the two of you were at Cotorra Springs. Arthur made sure to portray your hair in a braid, adding a few floral elements to your dress as well.

‘Y/N looked beautiful today. Felt nice to have a talk with her without her face buried in a canvas. That young girl really brings out something in me. Haven’t felt like this since seeing Mary again.’

‘Mary.’ You thought. Yea, you had heard that name before. Arthur had told you about their history. He truly had thought that he never could find someone to be with after her, especially with how her family was belittling him for being an outlaw. How a woman could let go off someone like Arthur that easily, you could not explain to yourself.

Multiple pages after was another diary entry that mentioned your name. This time it was about the night you both shared in Saint Denis.

‘This is a reminder to never let that girl drink more than four drinks ever. Y/N kept clinging on to me like a blood thirsty leech. Was fun catching up with her like that. She’s trying hard to make me feel young again. Part of me is liking it. Other part of me is yelling at me to stop. I might be an old fool for thinking that a pretty young thing like her could love an ugly bastard like me. At least this will be the last time I’ll allow myself to be a fool.’

You felt your heart shatter into multiple pieces while reading about how Arthur felt about himself. His past had really ruined his perception of love and especially himself. How could he call himself an ‘ugly bastard’ when he was the furthest thing from that. To you, he had never been anything but kind and loveable. There was no need to talk about his looks. That man was gorgeous from head to toe. Yes, he was older than you but that would never be enough to stop whatever attraction lied between you both.

“Whatchu readin’, there?” Hamish asked, causing you to jump and drop the book onto the table with a slight thud.

“Hamish!” You whisper-yelled, thinking that it was Arthur who had caught you reading his diary.

“That Arthurs?”

Your lips had formed a tight line, your fingers scratching your palm to hide your nervousness. “Don’t tell him, please.” You begged, pursing your bottom lip a bit to give him a soft puppy-eyed look.

Hamish hesitated a little, his eyes squinting as he looked you up and down. “Fine. But yer cleanin’ the horses paddocks for until I die.”

“For until you die?”

“For until I die.”

……………………………………………….

If there was a time to be worried sick- it was now. Arthur had told you about the invite they had gotten for the party at Angelo Brontes mansion and the little encounter they had. There was no doubt that you were scared about the fact that he knew you were alive. But what was even scarier was the thought that Arthurs camp had agreed to take his word and rob a trolley station in Saint Denis.

With all the information he had of Bronte, thanks to you, Arthur really did not want to do it. But once Dutch set his mind to something it meant that it was going to happen.

Now you were back at the camp near Rhodes you and Arthur had stayed in. Being so close to the action happening in Saint Denis, he did not want you to be alone. Charles was there to offer you company and more importantly protection. This had been your first time meeting. He was an interesting person with many stories and philosophies to tell. Immediately you were able to tell why Arthur trusted him with keeping an eye on you. Charles not only seemed extremely attentive to his surroundings, but he had a calm demeanor to him, allowing you to adopt some it to relax even in this tense situation.

Soon after sunset Arthurs and his Shires silhouette became visible, trotting towards the tent and your wagon. Oh gosh, he did not look pleased.

“You okay, Arthur?” Charles asked, approaching Arthur who was tying his horse to a tree.

“Hell of a job, huh? Fifteen dollars for each, ain’t that sweet.” He grumbled, throwing his weapons to the ground.

Bronte had lied to them. What a surprise. But now, not only did you have a target on your back. So did Arthur.

This was done on purpose; Arthur was sure of it. Why else would there be police waiting all around this small station when the city was big enough to parole anywhere else. They were set up and fell right for the bait Bronte had placed for them. The only thing that the Italian did not calculate was them escaping.

Arthur strutted past you to the campfire. He plopped down onto the ground before taking off his hat and rubbing his hand over his face. “Charles, you go back to camp. Y/N go back to Hamish. I ain’t sure if I was followed or not.”

What a hell of a mess this was. What was anyone even doing anymore? Yes, the plan was getting enough money to leave this place and run away from the prices on their heads. But Arthur was not sure of what he wanted anymore. Was he just going to leave you now after all the trouble you were in to join the others in some tropical place? He was not sure. Ever since Micah started whispering into his ear, Dutch was slowly turning into a stranger, neglecting the boundaries he had set up for his own people. This was not the way it was supposed to be. The old Dutch would not have accepted a job like this blindly without making sure that it was legitimate to not put anyone in harms way. This? This was reckless.

You interrupted his thought process, speaking in a soft tone, trying to not aggravate him. “I wanted to go back to Strawberry for a bit. Work and sell some stuff.”

Charles nodded at you once, silently approving your decision. In Strawberry you would be out of reach for Bronte. Staying there for some time would probably be a smart choice.

Arthur agreed to your statement, as well, saying it would be better for you mentally too. Painting kept you occupied, why not do that.

You slowly made your way to Arthur, crouching down to meet his eyes, which were reflecting the dances of the fire. “Don’t do anything dumb, alright?” You mumbled, placing a hand of yours on his cheek, rubbing your thumb back and forth on his stubble.

Arthur turned his head, giving your palm a kiss before taking your hand to kiss the back of it as well. “No promises.”

- 🍯

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #paint away #arthur morgan fluff

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