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norris55s · 20 days

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the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc/arthur leclerc love triangle

warnings: intoxicated (but consensual) kissing

a/n: trying out a written piece/smau/texts weird hybrid but it was all i could come up with to get this idea across! i hope you all like it <3 (there will be a part 2)

also this was requested!! i'm so sorry anon i lost the ask but i hope u see it and like it anyways

Day 1

France is a place that isn’t easy to forget, but having lived there your whole life made it seem ordinary. The country that saw me grow up, and that I was glad to call home, failed to impress me every day because I was used to it. The beautiful architecture, history, and tourist attractions weren’t as beautiful to me anymore; it was my day-to-day life.

That wasn’t true for the beach house in Nice. It wasn’t mine, or my family’s, but that place never failed to impress me, even if it was my day-to-day life every summer. The Leclerc summer home was my favorite place on Earth. From its blue and white facade, the soft beige interiors, the pool and beach view, the big dining room, and the incredible company, there’s no place I’d rather be in right now.

“Y/N L/N, you have arrived!” Charles Leclerc, the ultimate reason for this place’s beauty, yelled out to me.

“Charles Leclerc, I have arrived!” I replied blushing, and opening my arms into an embrace. As every time I hugged him, my body relaxed and tensed somehow at the same time, safe and nervous, loved and not loved back. But aren’t all childhood crushes like that?

“I’ve also arrived, pote. If you even care,” my wonderfully annoying older brother, Alexandre, interjected. Charles let me go to greet my brother, and I turned to find the youngest Leclerc, Arthur, on his way to hug me hello.

“Hi, chérie,” he said with a smile on his face, ruffling my hair affectionately.

“Hi, Arthur. Up to no good once again?”

“I’m always up to all good!”

Pascale Leclerc, the boys’ mother, greeted me with cheeks kisses and pinches. Everyone then swarmed my mom, Alice. Sometimes I think my friends love her more than they love me, but that was deserved.

As every year before, everyone finally felt at home. And as every year before, the inaugural pool party started.

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the honor of joining me at the pool?” Charles exaggeratedly held out his hand, as if we were Royals in a ball. Antics that I was happy to oblige with. Too happy for my dignity to recover.

As we made our way inside, and swam a couple laps playing around on who is faster, we wound up floating peacefully on a corner with the sun beginning to set.

“I missed you,” Charles said out of nowhere, making my heart do a somersault.

“I miss you too,” I managed to reply, feeling the blush on my cheeks.

“I want to hear from you more often. I know I’m busy with racing, but I always can make time for you Y/N.”

The thing about unrequited love is any show of affection feels like a marriage proposal. But of course I could not deny his request. He was, above all else, one of my best friends and one that I needed to be there for.

Hervé Leclerc passed away the year before, a couple months after the summer vacation. We didn’t know it would be the last time we spent with him, and I was worried about what this year’s vacation would be like with the boys’ father missing.

“I’m always here for you,” I vowed and he gave me a quick, chaste kiss on my forehead. To make sure I wouldn’t forget my promise.

As I looked at Charles’ glistening face against the darkening sun, I realized we would be okay.

y/ninstagram added to her stories

charles_leclerc added to his stories

Day 2

“Chérie,” was the first voice I heard as I woke up, with Arthur knocking on my door for show and letting himself in.

“Too early,” I whined back and hid under the covers, to have them ripped from me by the guy in my room.

“It’s time for the sunrise beach walk,” he replied and I knew he was right, so I let myself be dragged outside the house. I couldn’t say no, since the sunrise walk at least once during the vacation is also a tradition between Arthur and I.

It was also worth it; we silently agreed for that to be time to catch up, be honest, and be vulnerable ever since we began taking the walks. This one would be particularly hard too.

“I really, really miss my dad,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders to walk side by side.

I didn’t know how to handle Hervé’s death with the boys.

Enzo was older than me, even beyond his years, and there was nothing I could say that would be wiser, or better than what he had to say.

Arthur was quiet and reasonable, way more accepting of inevitables than me, more useful to himself than me.

Charles was passionate but closed, a master at compartmentalization, never letting me in even if I’d like to.

But Arthur, ever my closest friend, still needed my support.

“I know you do,” I replied softly and squeezed his hand. “It’s only normal, and I’m sorry you’ve been dealt these cards.”

Grief is a strange thing, but on the beach I hoped I let Arthur know that I would always be by his side, and that the sun will always rise again for him. With his steady breathing while leaning on me as we sat on the sand, I knew he understood.

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her stories

Day 3

y/ninstagram added to her stories

ameliedeveraux20 added to her stories

This was the third year Arthur and I were invited to parties that Alexandre and Charles went to. The promotion from little siblings to cool siblings opened up a new world in Nice. Especially one where I could ignore my schoolgirl crush on Charles through alcohol.

So I happily got ready, into a pink summer dress and into the car that would drive us all to an even bigger house filled with a bunch of privileged European kids ready to drink the night away.

The first drink came from Antoine, who sadly had a beautiful girl around his arms that indicated he wouldn’t be a good distraction. The second one came from Amelie, my Nice girlfriend, who was happy as ever to see me and catch up with me before she also found an arm candy and promptly left. The third one was on me, as I was forced to stare at Charles making out with a girl I learned was named Charlotte.

After that, I stopped counting and kept drinking, joining the dance floor to enjoy the numb feeling in my face, the new found careless attitude, and the music blasting in my ears.

Before I could process it, Arthur was in front of me, the blush on his face indicating he was also intoxicated. What started as a normal jumping around like one does at a party, progressed to a point where his hands were on my waist and my hands were on his neck.

I couldn’t even recognize the song anymore, too entranced on the way his eyes were on mine. There were no words, as was usual between him and I. We just knew.

I wouldn’t take the first step, but he would. Arthur’s lips met mine in a strong, messy kiss. I didn’t pull away. I did want it. And it wasn’t scary.

When we stopped to take a breath, I realized I wanted to kiss him again. As I was leaning in, taking the initiative myself now, another force pulled me away.

I walked by inertia, trying not to fall down in following who was leading me away from the crowd. When I looked up, I recognized it to be Charles.

I couldn’t breathe from the adrenaline of the kiss I just shared, but also from the touch of Charles’ hand on mine, even if it was to take me out of the party.

My reaction was all too slow, finally starting to protest.

“What are you doing? Let me go,” I defensively said, snatching my hand away from his. The butterflies didn’t leave anyways.

“You’re drunk, let’s go home,” Charles coldly replied and held my hand again on his way to the car.

“Why would I want to go home? I’m having fun,” I continued to protest and he continued to pay me no mind.

As he put me inside the vehicle, despite my clumsy attempts to fight it, and slammed the door, I continued to think about what this could possibly be about. Where was Charlotte? Where was Arthur? What was happening?

My head spun and he got in the driver’s seat, turning the ignition on.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re drunk. You don’t kiss people when you’re drunk.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You don’t kiss people you haven’t kissed sober.”

“Its Arthur!”

“Exactly!”

The back and forth continued all the way to the house, my thoughts sobering up with every passing moment.

“If you don’t want me to be with your brother because you don’t think I’m good enough, that’s really not your choice,” I told him decisively, crossing my arms and pouting like a child throwing a tantrum.

That was the only explanation for what Charles just did. He didn’t think a Leclerc should be with someone like me, and was doing everything he could to prevent it.

When he started laughing, I wasn’t so convinced anymore.

“What’s so funny?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I just made the biggest scene out of jealousy, and you’re saying I don’t think you’re good enough.”

Time froze and my mouth went dry. The confession made its way through my entire bloodstream, replacing the alcohol effects with pure shock. My head was spinning for entirely different reasons, and my brain couldn’t bring the words out. What would I even say?

I opened my mouth but nothing came out, and Charles put his face on his hands in frustration, before leaving the car. I still could only think what is happening?

#f1 #f1 au #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 fake texts #charles leclerc texts #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc au #arthur leclerc smau

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

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Hiiii, thank you so much for all of these they are so wonderful.

I would love something with Tommy and maybe 30? "You're not hurt are you?"

Was thinking maybe Tommy comes home after a particularly trying day and just flops onto the couch. Y/N comes home from food shopping shortly after and finds him and is concerned for him. They can be either married or whatever you see fit.

Uhmm I'd love it to be nice and fluffy, and I know you said you're not into writing shut sooo just go as heavy as you feel comfortable with and coat it with fluff and I'll be happy. >w< thank you so much I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to be part of this celebration with you! 💜

Thanks so much for sending this in, @chumon ! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write! I absolutely love this idea (thanks for adding some more detail to it…it made it easy to follow). I hope you like what I did with it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Never Tired For You

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: a slightly suggestive conversation/situation

Word Count: 1153

Summary: (Y/N) finds Tommy laying on the couch and immediately thinks the worst…he couldn’t just be laying down, right?

Tommy was tired. It had only been two days into his two week stay in London, and he already felt exhausted by the numerous meetings he had to carry out. There was so much to keep track of: the on-going deal with Alfie Solomons and all of the turns that took, making sure Arthur continued to keep things in line at the Eden Club, and keeping tabs of whatever Inspector Campbell was going to have him do next.

Somehow he managed to carve out an afternoon to himself. He was hoping to spend it with his wife, (Y/N), who had joined him on this trip — against his own volition — but upon returning to his sister’s home, he found that she wasn’t in.

So he decided to lay down on the couch. Yes, Tommy Shelby actually took a moment for himself so that he could rest. No, the world didn’t come to an end. But he actually managed to find a position comfortable enough that made him want to stay on the couch.

(Y/N) had been out grocery shopping. She realized that Ada needed a few things, and so with nothing better to do she set out and ran some errands.

The surprise that was waiting for her back at the house just about made her drop the basket she was carrying. Never had she seen her husband laid out on the couch — especially in the middle of the day. The sight of it alone was enough to get her mind running in overdrive.

“Tommy? What’s happened?” she got right to the point as she hurried over to the couch he was laying on.

“Huh?” he asked in confusion, beginning to move from his laying position so that he could sit once more.

“No, don’t move,” she rushed to stop him, her one hand extended in his direction, “you’re not hurt, are you?” Asking the question made her heart drop. She’d did a quick scan of his frame and found nothing glaring at her, but she couldn’t be too sure.

“No, love, I’m not,” he shook his head, continuing with his motions of sitting up, looking up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “I was just laying down,” he told her then, fishing the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket so that he could slide one between his lips.

The second half of his statement made (Y/N) audibly gasp. There’s no way that Tommy Shelby would willingly lay down, she thought to herself incredulously. “Ok now I’m worried, Tom. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he chuckled at her worry, “there’s not a scratch on me. I’ve just had a long day is all,” he made another attempt to quell her concerns. The look on her face told him that she didn’t quite buy it. “Would you like to check for yourself?” he asked then, his one eyebrow quirking upwards as a grin teetered on his lips.

She could tell by his facial expression that his question was leaning on the suggestive side of things. Just the thought of what he was hinting at made heat rush to her cheeks. His cheekiness was one of the things she loved about him.

“Hmm?” Tommy cut into her thoughts, looking up at her through his eyelashes as he waited for her response.

“No…” she trailed off, biting her bottom lip to conceal her grin when she saw a tinge of disappointment fill his features, “I think I’ll believe you. And besides…you said you had a long day,” she called back to his previous statement.

“I had a long day…doesn’t mean I’m too tired for me wife,” he reminded her, the previous glint returning to his eyes.

“Maybe later,” she decided, her grin growing to match his.

“C’mere then,” he beckoned, leaning back against the couch as he placed the cigarette between his lips again.

“Let me put these away first,” she answered him, lifting the basket she was still holding. He nodded in response and she went to the kitchen to put the groceries away. Moments later, she was back in the front room curled up into Tommy’s side. “So you’ve really only had a long day?” she couldn’t help but bring their previous conversation up again.

“Yes,” he answered, his fingertips absentmindedly dancing over the skin of her arm. “Arthur’s losing it at the club again…I’m not sure what I’m going to do with him.”

“Give him another chance,” (Y/N) suggested, lifting her head from his shoulder when she felt his eyes on her. “I mean it,” she doubled down on her stance, her eyes locked with his.

Tommy pursed his lips and thought about her comments for a moment before he let out a breath and looked to the windows.

“I’ll drop it,” she broke the silence, realizing that his mind was going again. She didn’t want to ruin this moment. “Let’s go back to just sitting here.”

After speaking, she turned on the couch so that she was able to straddle his lap. His hands quickly found their home on her hips, and his eyes were immediately back on hers as the mischievous glint returned.

“Just sitting here, eh?” he questioned her with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sitting,” she grinned, her hands finding his cheeks before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Tommy’s hands moved to press flat against her back as their kiss deepened, bringing her body flush against his.

“If this is what it’d be like…” he breathed as they pulled away just slightly, “I’ll have to start coming home early more often.”

“If you hold up your end of the bargain, I’ll hold up mine, Mr. Shelby,” (Y/N) pulled further away from him so that he could see the smile present on her face.

Their lips met again, teeth clashing and tounges pressing together as they became lost in their embrace. Tommy tried to be sneaky with it, but (Y/N) pulled away when she felt him start to unbutton the top of her dress.

“Not so tired anymore, hmm?” she questioned, a suggestive glint in her eye as she sat up straight, her hands running down his cheeks so that she could settle them on his shoulders.

“Never tired for you, love,” he husked, his eyes blown with lust as he managed to continue with his mission despite her breaking further away from him.

“Let’s go to our room then. I don’t think Ada’d want us to do this on her couch.”

That was all Tommy needed to stop what he was doing and drop his hands from her frame. “Go on, then,” he nodded his head to her, “lead the way.”

(Y/N) wasted no time in standing from his lap. She waited for him to stand also before she gingerly took hold of his hand and led him to the steps and up to their room.

*tags in the reblogs so they’ll hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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warnersister · 2 months

Text

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

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monzabee · 11 months

Text

the name game – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you and Charles try to get through one of the first hardships of parenthood.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: pregnancy (and pregnancy symptoms), crying, angst but also tooth rotting fluff

Request: “Can I request Charles and his girlfriend or fiancé having a baby? And they are talking about names and she suggest her ex boyfriends name to piss him off and he gets really upset and mad. And they then tlak about last names and she tells him she wants their baby to have her name and he is not happy about that or hyphenating as he feels strongly about his family name”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’m so happy to be back after a month of exams, and what better way to kick it off with a charles fic?? the whole concept was extremely cute and i loved it so much, but i kind of wanted there to be a chaotic aspect to it?? thank you anon for your request, and i hope you guys enjoy this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Some people keep saying that the hardest part of pregnancy is the first trimester, some say that the hardest part is actually giving birth because, well – it’s quite literally pushing a baby from right there. But to you, the hardest part is not the nausea, or the possible pain of giving birth, or the sleepless nights to come, no. To you, the hardest part is deciding on what to name your baby. Everyone around you seems to have an opinion on what to name the baby, of course, and with the increasing amount of (sometimes uncalled) suggestions coming from you from all around, you and Charles find yourselves in the middle of a never ending game of name the baby.

“Alfred?” Charles suggests, raising his head from his phone.

The suggestion gets a groan, you shake your head to let him know that it’s definitely not the name. “Excuse me, are we about to raise Batman’s butler?”

“Good point,” he nods his head, “we are Marvel people anyway.”

“You guys are useless at this, you know that right?” Arthur scoffs, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. “Why don’t you wait until the baby is actually born? Many people say that it’s easier to name a baby that way.”

“And how do you know these people?” Charles asks, eyes narrowing at the edges.

Arthur raises his hands on the either side of his face in mock surrender. “Touché.” He takes a moment to think, “Why do you only looking at boy’s names? I thought you didn’t want to learn the gender until the birth.”

“We don’t,” you affirm, slowly perching yourself on the barstool next to Charles, “Charles just thinks that it’s going to be a boy.”

Arthur watches as his older brother nods while smiling proudly, then shares a look with you which screams, He knows there’s a fifty-percent chance, right? You shake your head as you shrug, turning your attention back to your phone. “Oh, oh! What about Luka?”

“Luka,” Charles repeats, and tests the name coming out of his lips, “Luka Leclerc?” His watches as you give him a bright smile as you nod repeatedly.

“It does have a nice ring to it,” Arthur comments from his place on the couch as he abandons the book filled with baby names in his hands.

“Luka.” Charles repeats the name again, but as he looks into your expectant eyes, he can feel a nudging at the back of his mind. Luka, Luka, Luka – has he met someone with the same name before? Well, probably, he thinks. He does meet a lot of people during his day to day life, not to mention the race weekends. He decides to let go of the worry, establishing in his mind that he probably met a fan with the same name– “No, chérie! We can’t use Luka!”

“What?” You ask him with a small pout on your lips, “Why not?”

“You dated a guy named Luka, remember?” He reminds you, expecting you to catch onto what he’s saying. “Chérie, it was right before we dated!” You look at him in confusion as you try to piece what he’s saying together, but Charles just looks at you in disbelief, “I can’t believe you want to name our baby after a guy you dated!”

“But–” You start, eyebrows furrowing together as you try and make yourself remember. “That can’t be true.”

“I’m telling you,” Charles turns to Arthur, raises his eyebrows as he looks at his brother for support, “Arthur tell her that I’m correct.”

Arthur chooses to throw him the pillow he takes from behind him. “How should I know the guy she dated before you, you idiot?”

“Would it kill you to be on my side for a change?” Charles deadpans.

You tune out the rest of their argument, still trying to remember whether Charles is actually correct or not – the pregnancy hormones definitely not helping you on your case. “Wait!” You exclaim, making both of the brothers to turn towards you. “I never dated a guy named Luka,” you raise a finger towards Charles to shut him up before he even gets a chance to speak, “let me rephrase that. I never dated a guy named Luka, because the last guy I went on a date with before we got together was Lucas.”

Charles’ voice is tentative as he asks “Lucas?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You roll your eyes at him, “Why would I try to name our baby after a guy I went on one date with?”

Arthur nods in support of you, “You have to admit you overreacted, Charles.”

“Okay, you? You zip it.” Charles snaps at his brother and then turns to you. “I’m sorry, chérie, but I thought it was Luka.”

“Well it wasn’t,” you cross your arms over your chest, “and don’t tell your brother to zip it, he’s right!” You let out a chuckle as you share a look with Arthur as Charles watches the both of you let out chuckles at his expense.

He lets his eyes narrow and he silently watches as the two of you make fun of him for his outburst. He only talks when your laughter is dying down, “Are you guys done?”

“Oh come on, darling, it was cute.” You lean towards him to link your fingers between his.

He raises one of his eyebrows as he asks, “So you wouldn’t react the same way if I just did that?”

“Oh, Charles, don’t–” Arthur warns him, but you quickly stop him.

“No, no,” you bite back a smile, “continue, my love.”

“As I was saying,” Charles gives his brother a pointed look and then turns his attention back to you, “you wouldn’t react the same way if I wanted to name our future child ‘Charlotte’?”

“Excuse me?” You stutter, frowning as your expression turns into a pout. You wait for a moment for Charles to realise what he’s just said, but when he fails to do so, you prompt him by asking, “How is that similar to what just happened? And why would you bring her into this in the first place?”

Charles shakes his head in disbelief, “How is it not?”

Arthur gets up from his place on the couch and pretends to yawn as he stretches his arms over his head, “You know what, I’m feeling kinda tired maybe I should go home.”

“You sit right back down on that couch, Arthur Leclerc.” You point a finger at him despite having your attention solely focused on your fiancé sitting in front of you, and not on the poor boy who tried to get away from the inevitable fight you and Charles are going to get into.

He lets himself fall back on the couch as he groans and presses a pillow over his face as he mumbles, “Here we go again.”

“I hope you know that these two situations are not similar to each other – like at all.” You emphasise for Charles, “I can’t believe you would even say that!”

There is a clear look of bewilderment in Charles’ eyes as he asks, “You dated ‘Lucas’, I dated Charlotte, how is it not the same?”

“I went on one date with the guy, didn’t date him for three whole years, that’s not the same, you idiot!” You exclaim as you quickly press your hand against your chest as you glare at Charles. “I can’t believe you couldn’t see that, God, Charles! You do this, you always do this!”

Maybe under different circumstances, Charles would have acted a bit smarter. He is, after all, a smart man, he prides himself of being one, but being the absolutely stupid man he is, he asks, “Do what?”

Arthur turns back from the couch, almost breaking his back in the process as his eyes widen in shock as well as he gives his brother a look which screams, How more stupid can you be, you dumbass? In an attempt to diffuse the tension, which is building between the two of you, he recommends, “How about we focus something other than the baby’s name, like the theme of the nursery?”

“Fairy tales,” you answer at the same time Charles chimes, “Racing cars.”

“Okay I take that back.” Arthur mumbles as he watches you and Charles throw glares at each other. “Let’s just stop talking about the baby? It’s clear that the two of you are set on having all the fights you didn’t have before deciding to have a baby.”

Charles lets out a supportive sound. “We clearly suck at discussion right now, this is starting to turn into the argument we had about you taking my surname.”

“Are- are you serious right now?” You stutter once again, eyes widened with surprise. “You are so obstinate, Charles! You refuse to see the right when you’re in the wrong and you refuse to compromise!” You voice is coming more of as a groan now that he’s opened that door. “We didn’t need to have that argument, because i’ve been telling you that I am hyphenating my surname.”

He lets out a similar groan, as he tries to reason, “I just don’t understand why–”

“So our children can have your name, but they can’t have mine?” You raise an eyebrow in warning, eyes narrowing on the edges as you look at your fiancé with suspicion.

“No,” he retorts, trying to defend himself, “I never said I didn’t want the baby, or our future children, to have your surname, I said I just wanted them to have mine.”

You let out a humourless laugh at his reasoning, “So I’m just supposed to lose a big part of myself when we get married, is that it?”

Charles immediately feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes the impact of his words. He jumps up from his seat and rushes over to you, kneeling down in front of you as he gently takes your hands in his. “Well, no– I didn’t mean it like that–”

“I think I know what you’ve meant, Charles.” You voice is shaky as you mumble the next words, “Can you just help me get up, please?”

“What?” Charles asks, motioning his brother to stand back. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stand up on my own, I’m six-months pregnant!” You exclaim, the tears finally start falling down your cheeks. “And it’s all because of you!”

In hindsight, Charles should’ve foreseen the way his words would cause such a commotion in your relationship – given the fact that the two of you have talked about it before. As the weight of his insensitivity settles in, a new wave of panic washes over Charles – he just couldn't shake the thought that his thoughtless words might push you away. And he knows he should’ve listened to Arthur’s warnings before, and probably should have used better words to express his feelings instead of saying things he didn’t mean in the first place; but then again, he’s never been too good at it in the first place. After receiving a very lengthy lecture from Arthur what to say, or rather what not to say, to a hormonal pregnant woman, he left the apartment the two of you share in a hurry to find you. Despite the logical side of his brain constantly remind him of the fact that you know the city well enough to not get lost, the nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him of the worst things that could have happened both to the love his life and his baby. So imagine his frustration when you don’t answer any of his calls as he frantically rides around the city in hopes of finding you and apologising like he should’ve before you got out of the door.

After dialling your number for the umpteenth time that night, he releases a relaxed breath when you finally answer his call. “Mon amour, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Charles?” He hears your voice play through the car play speakers, “Oh, Charles, I did something bad.”

“Y/N.” Charles can swear his heart stops for a moment, he pulls the car over quickly to give you his undivided attention. “Talk to me, love, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I didn’t mean to do it, it was an accident–”

“Chérie, please tell me what happened.” He pleads, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter with anxiety. “Where are you? I’ll come to get you.”

He hears you take a shaky breath as you mumble your next words, “I accidentally ordered both raspberry and lemon ice cream, and I can’t finish both.”

“I- darling,” Charles lets out another relieved breath, “I’m coming to get you now, okay? Just wait for me.”

Your voice is sheepish as you mumble, but the small sniffle Charles hears through the speakers is enough to make his heart clench. “Okay, can you please bring me my blanket?”

“Of course I will, just stay there okay?” He mumbles as he starts up the car again, “I love you.”

“Thank you, darling, I love you too.”

Some of the anxiety he has been feeling about your brief disappearance ease with the enlightment as Charles begins to drive towards the small ice cream parlour near your apartment. Of course, you were right around the corner when he was looking for you throughout the entire city; and of course, he should have known you’d crave ice cream after eight o’clock. Thankfully, it doesn’t take him long to get to you, and he remembers to grab the blanked you keep in the car for when you get cold during night drive the two of you go on frequently.

He finds you sitting at one of the tables right near the door, sitting by yourself as you eye the cup in front of you with a small pout on your face. “Chérie.”

“Charles.” You mumble, meeting his eyes as you exhale a deep breath. “You found me.”

“Well to be fair, love, you’re right around the corner from our home.” He drapes the blanked across your shoulders before settling next to you. A small smile forms of his face when you push the small cup towards him. “You got lemon ice cream?”

You sigh sadly as you wrap the blanket around you tighter, “I couldn’t get far because the baby wouldn’t let me, and she wanted ice cream – and it’s habit, Leclerc.” You scowl at him, quickly adding, “I’m still mad at you.” You let out a frustrated groan when you find him smirking covertly, “What?”

“You called the baby a ‘she’.” He points out, grabbing the spoon and getting some of the ice cream on his spoon, “You think it’s going to be a girl.”

“I- I- no!” You gasp as you watch him bring the spoon to his mount and gives you a dimpled smile, “You stop that right now, Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc!” You reach over to hit his arm lightly, “I’m still very much mad at you.”

“I know,” he responds grimly, “we have to talk about what happened.” He laces his fingers against yours as he takes your hand on his arm in his, “I didn’t mean anything I said, I am so sorry.”

You let out a deep sigh, eyes softening around the edges, “I need you to understand that I don’t want to lose a part of myself just because we are getting married and starting a family, Charles.” You shake your head lightly as you give him a sad smile, “Do you know how it makes me feel when you say that you want our children to have only your surname?”

“I do.” Charles replies, but after receiving the look from you, he adds, “I mean – I do, now.”

“Charles,” you begin, “I love you, and I love that we get to go on this journey together, but I am not giving up my name. And I want our children to have both of our names.”

“I’m sorry, chérie, I don’t know why I said that.” Charles looks at you with a sad look.

“Your feelings are important to me,” you tell him, “I need you to know that.”

His eyes widen in surprise, “I know that, oh God. I do know that, Y/N.” He presses a small kiss to your conjoined hands, “And you have to admit, love, Y/N-Leclerc sounds great.”

“Thank you,” you let out breathily, eyes brimming with tears, “I love you.”

“I love you too, chérie.” Charles’ smile turns into a mischievous one, “So you think the baby is going to be a girl?”

“Shut up, Perceval.” You bite back a smile as you bring your hands on your belly, “I just hope she has your dimples and not your anger threshold.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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serawritesthings · 10 months

Text

CRAVE THE ROSE

summary: you were Arthur’s own slice of heaven in a world where it felt like everything he did brought him a step further to hell. pairing: arthur morgan x fem! reader tags: content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex word count: 6.1k

a/n: hello, lovelies! I'm finally done with my first fic; I hope it's worth a read. Please let me know what you think; I would much appreciate it!♡

Most nights at Horseshoe Overlook were quiet, ignoring Uncle's snoring and the girl’s quiet gossiping. Often, you joined them, finding their conversations amusing. You discovered that Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen had a wild imagination and a wilder sense of humor.

Unfortunately, they decided you would be the object of their gossip lately. More so, you and Arthur. Your relationship appeared to be very interesting to them, and they weren’t shy of making it known as they teased you for the man’s apparent infatuation with you.

Because of that, you remain behind a tree by the horses, mulling. You had no interest in speaking to the girls tonight, scared they would bother you. You didn't wish to be the center of gossip instead of the one chitchatting.

Sitting alone for the first time in a while allowed your thoughts to take over. You worried for him immensly, just like you always did when it came to Arthur. It wasn’t like your concern came from nothing, finding that trouble always followed him.

More times than not, he came home bloodied and bruised, and sometimes he didn’t come home at all. It made you feel useless to only stay in camp and think of every what-if that could happen to the unpredictable man, but you couldn't help it.

There was a lingering feeling of certainty when you met Arthur. You knew you were the same - you bruise a little easier than most, though in different places. The hurt manifested somewhere far inside of him, a place where his walls were so high you weren’t sure even he could put a crack in it. But something about him wormed itself into your heart and manifested the passage that led to your deepest thoughts and feelings.

"Whatcha doin' out here, honey?" A voice strapped with roughness spoke out behind you, surprising you. You glanced at Arthur towering over you, granting him an exasperated stare, although your heart sang at the sight of him in one piece.

"I'm hiding." He raised his eyebrow, looking entertained, settling his hands on his belt.

"Now, what are you hidin' from?" A smirk appeared on his lips while he shook his head.

"The girls." A melancholy expression appeared on your face.

"Your hiding from… the girls?"

"Well, yes. It seems gossiping about us has become their favorite amusement." To speak about it made you scrunch your nose. You knew it was childish, but you were too irritated to care.

"I guess women never change, eh?" He studied you with a knowing smile while crouching down, touching your knee tenderly. You only scoffed at him.

"You gonna stay cooped up here like an angry little ball of fire all night?" He offered you his hand, snickering.

"Yes." Peering forward with sharp eyes, you avoided his hand.

Arthur chuckled as he gently placed his hand under your chin, gazing into your eyes. Your pout made him frown, and swiftly he tossed you over his shoulder and began walking.

"I ain't lettin’ you linger out here all night. " You gasped, eyes facing the ground, feeling his shoulder jab into your stomach with every step.

"Now, just what do you think you're doing?!" A screech escaped you while Arthur only laughed, giving your rear a playful slap.

"They'll see us!"

"They're drunk and asleep; calm your horse's missy."

Your eyes grew small at his comment, and you tried thinking of a way to make him release you. Lifting your hands, you grabbed the back of his pants, trying to push them down his hips. He chuckled at you and kept walking.

"Now, what do you think you're doin´?" He readjusted your squirming frame against his broad shoulder.

"It's okay, though; I like you a little feisty."

"Oh, I'll show you feisty." You continued trying to push his pants down further.

You kept bickering on the path to Arthur's tent. He was correct; there wasn’t a single person awake. You could see the smug smirk on his face when he realized he was right, but he focused on keeping his pants up, which proved futile. What a sight you two were.

He chuckled as he placed you on his bed, standing tall over your small frame. Amid your anger, now forgotten after your lighthearted bickering, you had failed to remember how much you missed him. Arthur had been away for a long time, leaving you to worry about him constantly. It made you feel useless, never knowing where or what he was doing. But he was here now, which instantly lifted your spirits.

Raising the corners of your mouth into a soft smile, you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing his gun belt and bringing him closer to you till you felt the chilly surface of his buckle against your cheek. Putting your arms around his waist, you rested your cheek against his middle and sighed.

"Are ya done trying to pull my pants down now?" Arthur only raised his eyebrow, wondering where the feisty girl went.

"Mm." The fabric of his jeans silenced your voice as you relished in what was solely Arthur.

"I missed you so much." Your tone suddenly wavered, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him. It felt like he would disappear from you.

Feeling his coarse hand land softly on your head, he ran his fingers through your hair that was soft under his palms. Arthur wasn't good at feelings and often found himself tongue-tied when you spoke to him like this. His heart churned at your sudden display of emotions.

He missed you more than you could possibly know and spent most of the chilly nights in the wilderness, missing your soft voice and warm hands he had grown accustomed to. Before you, it didn’t matter where he was since his home was where he put his bedroll.

Now, though, his home was in your warm embrace. The ghost of your eyes tormented his every move, prodding him to return to you so the glimpses he thought he caught of you would become a reality.

How well you knew your Arthur. He was always quick with words but never with you. When you started paying attention to one another, dragging the words out of him required much effort. Stubborn as a mule, he was.

"Ah, I missed ya too, honey." His voice grew rough as he looked down at you. A warm feeling coursed through you at his words, pressing your cheek further against the cloth of his jeans, face illuminated by the lamp on the worn bedside table. The light bounced off the closed tent, creating a warm atmosphere.

Keeping close to Arthur, you looked up at him and staring back at you was a man with warm, soft-blue eyes and tousled honey-blond hair escaping his hat, looking slightly longer since you last saw him. Your chest tightened at the look he gave you, making you feel like the most precious thing he had ever seen.

Now, standing between one of your legs, you felt small beneath his tall frame. He felt many things watching you beneath him, face resting on the side of his hips, face too close to his guns for his liking, but he didn't move away. He felt all his limbs grow heavier when he observed you, finding only you to have this effect on him.

Your palms grazed the guns at his sides, being careful when lifting them from the holsters. They were heavier than you expected, not familiar with holding the weighty metal of a gun. The coarse leather of his gloves grasped your hands and lifted them with you, putting them on the bedside table.

A shrill ran through you, watching him grab them. He looked intimating, handling them like second nature compared to your unsure hands. It reminded you of the kind of man he was, or rather the man he had to be.

He could tell you felt wary; a familiar feeling of protectiveness he always directed towards you surging through him. You smiled slightly and stared at him through your lashes, palm stroking his thigh gently. He could feel himself melt at your behavior, realizing you were teasing him; testing the waters.

Most times, being intimate together went about the same way as you were inexperienced, and Arthur not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But he could feel the air had changed, making him stiff with intrigue and curiosity.

The tension in the tent was searing as you unbuckled his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud. You were used to him taking control, but you felt unusually bold in his presence this night. Suddenly, Arthur suddenly lifted you to stand on the bed, making you tower over him as a breathless laugh left you.

Putting both of your hands on his stubby cheeks, he wrapped his arms around your middle, breathing in your sweet scent as he pulled you closer. Your stomach churned at having him this close, feeling his warm breath fan over you, making your nipples stiffen against the closeness of his mouth.

Slowly, he enclosed his mouth around your nipple, covered by the fabric of your blouse–being this close it proved hard for him not to. You closed your eyes at the sudden feeling, thumbs gently stroking the scruff of his beard as he grazed his tongue over your clothed bosom wantonly.

You lifted your trembling leg to rest at his side, his arm immediately coming to rest on your backside, bringing you closer to him. He caressed you tenderly as you felt him press his tongue over your thin blouse, making you moan slightly under your breath.

Opening your eyes, you looked down at him, the sight more erotic than anything you have ever seen. He held your gaze through hazy eyes, his reddening lips glistening slightly with saliva, resting on the now wet patch on your shirt. You lifted your hands, grabbed ahold of the hat almost falling off his head, and dropped it to the ground.

Running your fingers through his tousled hair, you brushed the wild pieces behind his ear, unkempt by his hat. He rumbled appreciatively at your action and you felt the rough leather from his gloves sneaking under your shirt that was folded into your skirt, finally touching your skin.

You were always so soft, and most of the time, he felt undeserving to touch something so perfect with his rough, unlawful hands, roughened by the hardship his life had brought onto him. Never should anyone who has done such malicious things put their hands on you–yet here he was, soiling you.

Your soft skin felt heavenly under his rugged palm as if delicate hands sculpted it with adoration so stout there couldn’t be a more beautiful creation than the one standing before him. He felt shameful but didn't have the strength to pull away; he never did. It felt too good to touch you, almost bordering on torture, the way he kept crawling after you like a starved man never getting enough.

Arthur tightened his grip on you, paying attention to your other side with his mouth, moving slowly as your breath hitch. You let your head fall over him, resting your cheek on the top of his head that you now cradled, enjoying the moment while wishing you could be in his arms forever.

Running your hands over his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt something wet touch your fingers. You perked up, looking at your hands. Covering your fingertips was a dark red substance. It was sticky like it had been there for a while.

"Arthur." You murmured, a light worry detectable in your voice. He didn't answer you, instead grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up his waist, burying his head in your chest. You wanted to giggle at him and probably would have if concern didn't seep into your mind.

"Arthur" Your voice was low, this time sounding more collected.

"It ain't my blood, darlin’," he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric. You felt yourself relax, content no one had hurt him, but it left you wondering whose blood it was. "Don't you worry your pretty little head bout that," he said, like he could read your mind.

Arthur sat on the bed and it creaked under his weight, keeping you on his lap with your legs at either side of his thick thighs. He pushed your hesitant hips snugly against his, letting out a hum of appreciation, finally feeling your weight where he wanted you most.

Lifting his head from your chest, he gave you a look-over, and what a sight you were. Blush covered your cheeks as you looked at him with blissful but still worrisome eyes, a slight pink shade running down your neck into the cleavage of your blouse.

You brought your face close to his, feeling the roughness of his beard scrape against your cheeks as you leaned in, the worrying thoughts long gone as you felt his large hands slither into your skirt, kneading the soft flesh harshly under his palm.

You squeaked quietly, surprised by the sudden contact, your lips pausing, barely touching as you breathed in each other's air as your head spun in anticipation. The feeling of Arthur's warm hands so close to your exposed core made heat form in your lower belly and in your moment of bliss, you suddenly felt his lips on yours.

"Arthur." You whimpered against his mouth. Hearing his name from your mouth so pleadingly made the ache in his chest cramp at his heart, feeling the familiar warmth of pleasure spread. Amid his tongue massaging yours so sweetly contrasting the harshness of his hands, you lowered your hips softly.

The roughness of his jeans touching your center made a shockwave of rippling pleasure spread through you, making you choke out a mix between a moan and a cry. You lifted your chest slightly, leaning your head backward, making your hair fall in waves behind you.

Hugging Arthurs's head to your bosom, you felt his mouth on your breast once again. The feeling was too much, making your whole body tense as you tried to bring him closer. He hastily grabbed your blouse, dragging it out from the top of your skirt, and seeing he couldn't lift it over your head without unbuttoning it, he held the fabric in the middle, ripping the buttons quickly and exposing you to him. You wanted to complain, but feeling his mouth wrap around your now-bare nipple made you lose your train of thought.

They grew hard under the assault of his tongue; Arthur was sure he would’ve bitten them if he didn’t control himself. You were breathing frantically over him as his mouth moved against you, and he could hear how fast your heartbeat was.

He nuzzled the soft flesh, teeth grazing on the round bottoms of your breasts until he sucked on the peaks. You unknowingly motion your round hips in his lap, clearly getting worked up from his touch. His hand engulfed your hips, helping you rock back and forth on his lap.

The added pressure his hands brought made the rough material against your undergarments feel delicious as he moved his hips with yours, pushing you down every time you met his pelvis. The action was desperate, a silent plea for the bittersweet pleasure you sought within each other. His hands ran up your back, caressing the soft skin that shivered. Despite the chilly night, you were warm under his hands, calling for him to put his hands on you. You were beckoning him closer.

The moment was tender but filled with desperation that always seemed to linger around you. You ran your hands over Arthur's back, feeling the rough fabric of his worn-out shirt you knew so well. His broad shoulders bulged under your soft caresses as you could see his muscles tighten at your touch, his movements growing bolder as he once again placed his hands under your skirt, letting the fabric rest above your hips, exposing you to him. You felt him knead the warm flesh under his palms as he pushed you against him harder than before, pushing his crotch into yours, feeling the delicious warmth of your core against his bulge that strained against his pants. You could feel him under you, your face growing hot as his prominent member sat hard against you, pushing against its confinements.

"Oh," You could not help letting out a quiet moan as heat traveled through your body when you felt him. He stopped and looked up at you, leaving a string of spit between your breasts and his swollen lips. The look in his eyes made your breath hitch, his eyes hazy with a glint of warmth in them.

"Something wrong, honey?" His voice was low, almost sultry, and his hands softened against your bottom, no longer continuing his harsh treatment. The blush warmed your cheeks, realizing how exposed you were next to the fully dressed man. Having been lost in the moment, you hadn't noticed. But you did now. Arthur did, too, and praised the almighty; he didn't care if Colm O’Driscoll himself came and shot him right at this moment because he could die happy.

"No, I…" You tried to explain, but he seemed more focused on removing the ruined blouse from your arms, unable to help himself as he placed a few more kisses on the underside of your breasts. “I… uh…” The words were stuck in your throat, turning your brain into mush.

He took your hand, placing it on the lower side of his stomach, showing where he wanted your touch. You were timid, careful, and softly caressed the part over his waistline. You could tell he was growing impatient. His hands returned to your backside as he placed more kisses on your neck, slowly inching closer to your warmth while lifting you slightly, leaving room for your hand to travel further down. Cold fingers ran along the sides of your throbbing heat, teasing you and making you stiff with anticipation. Reaching your mouth, he placed his chapped lips on your soft ones, humming as he claimed you in the kiss. Thinking he would finally touch you, he suddenly lowered his hands and caressed your inner thigh, running his hands up and down. He then grabbed your hand, fitting it against his rigid member.

A relieved sigh left his body as he felt your small hand finally touch him. The relief only lasted so long before he felt the immense pleasure striking through his body at your soft caresses, hands leisurely moving up and down. They were unsure as they caressed him, but oh, they felt so good. Arthur felt his body go limp, almost like his muscles turned into heavy stones, as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

You let out a breathless giggle as you grew more confident when you saw his desperation for your touch. Hugging his head to your chest with one hand embedded in his hair, the other continued to move against him. Slowly, you took one finger and stroked the tip that strained against his pants. A heavy groan left his throat when you touched the sensitive spot, although the feeling felt muted from the layers of clothes.

You looked down beside his head to unfasten the suspenders holding up his jeans. You let them hang over his shoulders as your hands unzipped his jeans, unbuttoning a few buttons on his union suit so you could wriggle your hand inside.

First, your fingers touched a patch of hair under his belly button that led down to his member, the muscles tensing in his stomach. You followed it down, feeling Arthur’s warm breath against your shoulder.

"Christ alive!" The words wormed their way from his throat, sounding strained. You had winded your nimble fingers into his pants, fingertips feeling over the ridge beneath his cock. The touch alone sent a white flash of pleasure through his whole body. Smiling sheepishly, you rubbed your thumb up against the frenulum of his member, coaxing harsh noises from the man.

His head lay limp on your shoulders as his now sweaty hair tickled your skin, your actions turning his brain into mush. Your hand leisurely pumps his cock, going as slow as he can take it as you feel something warm start sliding down the back of your hand.

Curiously, you tried to look between your tightly knit bodies, leaning slightly away from Arthur for a moment. Although you didn't get the chance to look before his arms wound around your waist, bringing you closer to his broad form yet again. He lifted his head like he had woken from a deep slumber, lids heavy as he spoke.

"What kind of spell do you have me under, woman?" He rolled his hips up to meet your hand as it descended at the base of his cock. You readjust on his lap, scooting back slightly to gain more leverage for moving your arm. Arthur's eyes shut tight; his brows furrowed as you brought your other hand to his cheek, caressing it lovingly with your thumb as you gazed at him with warm eyes.

Being this close made you see him more clearly: the slight sunburns on the tall places on his face from being out in the sun all day, the lines on his forehead permanent from his constant frowning, and the thin layer of dirt covering his skin from the endless hard work he put up with. Too focused on what you were doing, he didn’t notice your stare, but his eyes found yours already looking at him when your hand slowed down.

At that moment, his lust drowned in his love for you.

Sometimes, he found you looking at him like that, and it was safe to say it baffled him. The tenderness in your eyes made him tense, unsure. He wasn't used to your affection, but your every move was an act of pure fondness for him. Although it puzzled him, he craved your attention at him at all times and boasted at having such a woman at his hands. A woman no doubt many men surely dreamed of for the rest of their lives if they ever got the chance to lay their eyes on you.

He felt your hand release the grip on his member, letting its now red, swollen tip rest against his stomach. Nimbly, you unbuttoned the other buttons on his union suit, your other hand sneaking under the fabric to touch the revealed skin, caressing his chest slowly as you reached the last button.

Running your hands from his chest to his shoulders, you let the fabric fall on his arms as you stroked over the broad muscles of his thick arms, appreciating their size. He noted that your wandering hands had grown bolder and relished in your touch. You leaned into him, his arms tightening around you to help you closer as you scooted up in his lap so you could reach his neck with your lips.

You heard Arthur grunt as your exposed cunt made contact with his cock when you raised your hips slightly, dragging your wet folds to his tip, letting it rest there as your warm lips put nimble kisses on the sweaty skin under his jawline. His shaft twitched when the muscles in his stomach clenched, the tip dripping precum on his skin as he felt his sack tighten.

"Do you want to kill me?" Breathlessly he spoke to you. Smiling through your kisses, you relished the power you seemed to have over him. "Maybe." You giggled against his skin, continuing to place timid kisses along his neck and pretending to bite him with your teeth. He scoffed at your playfulness, grabbing your bottom and grinding you over his swollen head.

A startled moan left your wet lips, surprised by the sudden contact. The pleasure that shot through your body was sweet but laced with a sharpness that made you quiver in his grasp. It felt delicious; the anticipation of the movement filled every inch of you with deep shivers that racked through your already shaking body.

Your mouth was left gaping against his shoulder, your lingering kisses paused by Arthur pushing you against him in small motions so he could feel the delicious friction your swollen lips created against his rigid member.

"You want me to touch you, darlin'?" His gruff voice spoke. You mewled against him, all traces of the dominance you thought you had for a second go, and he didn't even have to try. It made you realize he only let you because he wanted to.

Calmly, his fingers eased toward your wetness that now almost seemed to drip down your thigh in complaint at being untouched for so long. Two of his fingers parted to stroke either side of your lips, almost throbbing as you clenched around nothing. The strokes continued, never touching you where you wanted him to. You were going crazy. How could he tease you so?

"Arthur." Your voice was quiet and begging, an undertone of wholehearted want seeping through. He hummed against you, lifting your head to place his lips on yours as his fingers finally disappeared beneath your wet folds, gliding toward your clit and resting there. He began drawing small circles that blur your vision as your eyes rolled back, letting out ungodly sounds muted against his lips. His lips continued to move against you, but when he noticed yours weren't, a low chuckle escaped him. Seeing you sitting on top of him with your blouse discarded and skirt lifted to reveal the tempting flesh to his eyes, as your face showing nothing but pure pleasure, drove him mad. The pads of his fingers are rough against your delicate parts, only adding to the bliss surging through your body. As he stroked you gently, your back arched as your hands frantically grabbed his arms. You feel your hands shake, your grip tight on his biceps as his two fingers sink into your hole. You gasped at being filled, clenching your walls tight around his fingers. The stretch burned, his fingers thicker than yours.

Sweet moans reach Arthur’s ears as he moves against your spongy walls, the squelching sound of him entering you filling the quietness of the night. Knuckle deep in you, he bends them expertly, causing your breath to hitch, making you spread your thighs wider for him as you grind down on his hand. His motions were rapid as he dove deep into your heat. Your thighs contracted as you felt your whole body tense, his arms moving underneath your touch.

“Oh, Arthur, please.” You spotted his warm eyes staring into yours when you turned your gaze up at him. Your eyes were pleading with him to take you, tears brimming at the intense feelings he filled you with. He knew what you wanted but had to ensure you were ready, knowing you would hurt otherwise.

“I know, honey, just a little more.” Arthur caressed your hair softly as his jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his forehead as his eyes were stuck on you. He felt hopeless when you looked at him like this. You could get him to do whatever you wanted when looking at him like that; hell, Arthur would even kill for you if you asked. He was wet with your slick, his fingers jamming inside you as you lifted your legs, trying to escape his assault. The sudden change of pace made the pleasure unbearable. Not a single sound left your mouth as your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth hung open. He grabbed your hips, bringing you down against his fingers so you couldn’t escape.

Arthur hoisted you up, fingers leaving your dripping heat as he placed you over his throbbing head. Feeling your wetness wrap around him made his vision blur, ears ringing from the blood that rushed from his head. You leaned back, placing your hands on his knees as his hands found your hips. You sank slowly, watching his member disappear between your folds. The unison makes your heart swell, the thought of your body becoming one running through you like warm whisky, setting your blood afire.

Arthur’s breathing was heavy, his hands shaking slightly from the intenseness of the moment. Every movement was a silent plea for the moment never to end, wanting to stay connected for all eternity in each other’s embrace. The world disappeared around you, becoming a blur. The only thing you saw was each other as you moved over him, feeling him lift you to the top to lower you so you could hug him warmly. Your walls clamped down on him, his mushroom head prodding deep inside your spongy walls, eliciting whines from your open mouth. Arthur was used to being quiet, but you were struggling, terrified someone would hear. You wouldn’t be able to stand the humiliation if you were.

“Come here, darlin’.” He placed his brawny arms under your thighs, his member leaving you as he stood up and laid your back gently on the bed, his hand under your head. Always so careful. Your arms reached for him, seeking his solace and safe embrace as he returned to you, putting his weight on you as close as he could without hurting you. He entered you again as his head rested in the crevice of your neck, panting. He stuffed you full, fuller than you’ve ever been. Your cunt stretched obscenely around him, lips sealing around his cock with a snug, velvet grasp. He set the pace this time. His muscular frame was going slow, but his strokes were hard; your body was being pushed up the bed from the harshness of his thrusts. He brought you deeper into the mattress whenever you felt him dive back inside. Your legs found their way around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Arthur loves how you cling to him, helping you by holding you close as he prods you deeper. He takes your hand, bringing it to your chest and placing it between your breasts as he murmurs something in your skin. You’re too blissed out to hear what as his voice melts like honey at the base of your neck.

“Oh god!” You cry out between his thrusts, moonlight seeping through the folds of the tent and splashing his skin. His palms tremble against you from the effort. He cooed at your noises, shushing you by capturing your lips with his. You had messed up his hair in your blissful frenzy, and his eyes were glossy with lust. His hands ran down the side of your body that arched underneath him, grabbing your thigh and pushing the plush skin up to rest beside you so he could bury the whole cock inside you. You almost felt him in your guts as he prodded against your flesh, leaving you to mumble nonsense into his mouth between the gasps that escaped you from the force of his thrusts. The slide of his length against the silky, slick clench of your cunt is nothing less than ambrosial.

Arthur breathes heavily between clenched teeth as you tighten around him. He slowed his pace to draw himself almost entirely out of you before filling you again with a languid thrust. The coil inside him was tightening, threatening to snap. He was holding you so close now, shielding you from the world as you lay underneath him, eyes glazed with a faraway look. Each caress from his hand said the words his sex-addled mind couldn’t make his mouth form.

I love you

He wrapped his arm under your waist, supporting your arching body, pistoning you now with brutal efficiency. Still, affection lingered in everything he did. He never gripped you too hard as his rough hands remained gentle. For you. Only for you. His hands slipped down the planes of your stomach to apply gentle pressure to the hooded bundle of nerves, sending a shock through you like a burst of electricity. Whatever words you tried to speak came out as little more than a garbled cry as he teased furious circles over your still swollen clit, arms tight against his neck.

“Please.” Lust-filled sounds left you as you begged. You didn’t know what for, his assault leaving your thoughts in shambles. He doubted there was a more beautiful sight than the woman he loved unraveling under the force of his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him, contracting as you sucked him more profoundly into your cunt.

“I love you!” You cried into his ear; Arthur’s eyes shut tight as his hips spluttered, pumping deeper inside you, noises he let out erupting from his lips in a sound that could only be likened to a primal whine. With a final uneven snap of his hips, the coil inside him snapped, and his release spilled inside you. His forehead rested between your shoulder blades as he trembled, your hands resting in his hair lovingly amidst the tremors running through your body. Arthur’s hips snapped up into you one last time, pushing up into you as far as possible to continue feeling the warmth and tightness of your cunt. His cum spurted out, coating your walls and escaping your entrance that he was stuffing with his cock. He gripped your thighs, moving his hips languidly, basking in the sharp pleasure running through him as his vision faded.

You could feel him relaxing in your grasp, heavy breathing leaving him as he gently kissed your trembling skin. You hummed over him at his touch, a pleasureful little sound that, despite being wholly spent, had him wondering if he could muster up the energy to retake you as his head lifted to claim your lips, tongue flickering lazily out to tangle with your own. Arthur grabbed your thighs that were wound tightly around his waist as he scooted down the bed, pressing them to flush against the mattress. He spread you wide, your body covered in sweat and cum, exposed before his eyes as he wasted no time putting his mouth on your puffy cunt. His tongue was warm as he entangled it in your wetness. Your hands tried to grip your hair, sheets, and headboard to find stability until they rested in Arthur’s hair. He could feel you pull on his roots, the feeling making him groan against you. The sound created vibrations against your sensitive clit. It felt like his mouth was eating you whole as he nuzzled as close as he could, sucking ferociously on your tender flesh. His tongue entered you, making you dizzy as blood buzzed in your ears. You looked down at him, breath hitching as you found his hazy eyes already on yours. It felt sinful to keep eye contact with him as he performed such a sensual act on you, but his admiring eyes left you searing with pleasure. You couldn’t look away, not yet. You felt him wind his arms under your thighs as he gripped your inner thighs, sitting up so he was resting on his heels.

“Arthur!” You exclaimed at the sudden motion. Your head rested on the bed as Arthur lifted you off it, his arms wrapped around your stomach, hugging you tightly against him as he buried his head further into your cunt. The air left you from his actions, your legs hitting his back to escape the frenetic torture he put you through. Wet noises filled the tent, Arthur’s dark eyes gazing down at you. You looked sinful, he thought. Usually so innocent, but at this moment, with your hair spread out on the messy sheets, a pink flush covering your cheeks, and dazed eyes staring up at him, you looked like he had corrupted you and filled every inch of you with pure ecstasy. He lifted his mouth from you, the lower part of his face glistening wet as his fingers found your clit. They stroked you gently as he hummed at your quiet mewls.

“Gettin’ close, honey?” Arthur cooed as you stared up at him with glistening eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure. Your expression told him enough, so he lowered his head again and extended his tongue inside you, massaging your walls. It felt good, so good that high-pitched whines started leaving you. His one hand found your mouth, muffling the sounds. Your hips began twitching, moving against his mouth as you struggled between putting distance from his lips and pulling him closer. His fingers were relentless, rubbing you faster to where you heard ringing in your ears from the searing pleasure you felt coursing through you. The fire pooling low in your abdomen started spreading, leaving a burning trail as it flowed through your every vein. Your head rolled back against the sheets, mouth open wide, but no noise left you as hot tears fell from your eyes. The world slowed down, your orgasm shattering your body. Rippling through you, it made you tense up, your walls pulsing around Arthur’s tongue as he slowly massaged your insides, intensifying your orgasm. Your hips started jerking against him, his arm holding you still as he hummed against you while observing you underneath him.

The world before you was blurred when your eyes slowly opened, the ringing now faint as you felt Arthur kiss the inside of your thigh, his hand rubbing your stomach soothingly. He lowered you onto the bed as your eyes gained focus. He could feel you gaze at him as he lifted you to lay your head on the pillow, caressing your cheeks. It was quiet; the only thing cutting through the air was your frantic breathing, both of you trying to catch your breath. Your eyes locked, a silent understanding between you as your trembling hand brushed his sweaty strands behind his ears.

“I love you,” He mumbled against your skin, eyes peering up at you. There was a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, and it took a few seconds for you to recognize it. Remorse. “But I don’t deserve you.” He sounded defeated, eyes staring absentmindedly like he was off somewhere else. It was a rarity for him to be this honest with you, but his words rang true. He didn’t deserve you; he knew it, you knew it, and everyone around you knew it. But he had you, body and soul. He had every part of you, even the parts you wanted to shield from both him and the world. His arms wrapped around you, covering you in his safe embrace, and your heart ached inside you when gazing at the man in front of you.

Before you could speak, he placed his lips against yours. There wasn’t much to be said anymore, your hearts speaking the words your lips couldn’t utter.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption smut #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #smut

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margowritesthings · 9 months

Text

A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here.

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame.

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you.

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight.

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes.

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to.

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable.

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you.

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake).

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in.

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him. Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner.

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him.

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less.

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together.

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?”

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together.

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.”

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them.

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you.

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest.

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing.

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully.

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view.

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand.

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…”

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always.

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to.

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can.

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it.

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?”

Marston.

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs.

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below.

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering.

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…”

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin.

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur.

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world.

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge.

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation.

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him.

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open.

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need.

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering.

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation.

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force.

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment.

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore.

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you.

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it.

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?”

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose.

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?”

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul.

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy.

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.”

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it.

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same.

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again.

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redeption 2 #red dead 2

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the-karma-cafe · 3 months

Text

arthur morgan x reader ("thursdays")

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)

song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)

Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.

How does Javier know?

Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail.

Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean.

A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement).

Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.

“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier’s.

Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log.

“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.

“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed.

He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”

Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”

Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”

Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.

Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”

Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.

“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.”

He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.

He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…

The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features.

Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy.

Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.

“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children.

Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well.

He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.

Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in.

Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.

“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder.

“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face.

Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”

Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.

“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed.

Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight.

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”

Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”

A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.

“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.

The boys grinned knowingly.

“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms.

Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.

Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!

The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.

Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.

And if I ever lose my hands

Lose my plow, lose my land

Oh, if I ever lose my hands

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more

Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.

And if I ever lose my eyes

If my colors all run dry

Yes, if I ever lose my eyes

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more

Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt.

Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did.

And if I ever lose my legs

I won't moan, and I won't beg

Oh, if I ever lose my legs

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more

He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that.

And if I ever lose my mouth

All my teeth, north and south

Yes, if I ever lose my mouth

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more

He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision.

Did it take long to find me?

I asked the faithful light

Oh, did it take long to find me?

And are you gonna stay the night?

This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.

I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.

Moonshadow, moonshadow

He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).

Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself.

“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him.

Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done.

He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!

She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”

He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”

He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.

She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head.

“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn.

He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.”

“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”

“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.

She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”

So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”

Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”

He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.

She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?

“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips…

“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed.

He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight?

Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”

Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”

She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?”

Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings.

What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.

“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.

“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her.

“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it.

“Why not?”

He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.

He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull.

Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches.

Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin.

“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined…

She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it.

She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real.

She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.

Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after.

He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name.

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips.

He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair.

“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”

He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff.

She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”

He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear.

“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.”

He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?”

“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb.

“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same.

She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.

His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.

She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away.

He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still.

Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound.

She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation.

“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them.

She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth.

He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again.

He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up.

He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her.

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks.

“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer.

She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away.

He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting.

“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily.

His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?”

She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands.

“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity.

Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh.

She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth.

“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it.

“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations.

He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside.

“Arthur…” she whined.

“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her.

She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .”

He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed.

Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably.

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly.

She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.”

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek.

She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in.

She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t.

She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?”

“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip.

She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him.

“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her.

She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled.

He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly.

She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her.

He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-”

Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met.

“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning.

He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust.

Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer.

“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him.

She whined at the pressure, growing limper.

“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back.

She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.

“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.

He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers.

She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”

He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.”

She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.

He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes.

A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye.

He blinked. He squinted.

He rubbed his eyes again.

“Holy shit.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Bonus

The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them.

She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”

He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.

He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her.

A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”

Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.”

He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #charles smith #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #lenny summers #sean macguire #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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earlgreyflowers · 5 months

Note

Okay so how about 21+39 + Oscar. like seven minutes in heaven or spin the bottle situation. (Only if you want tho)

I saw this request and I just had to write it immediately, this fits Oscar so well

———————————————

Oscar was never really one for emotion, he was almost impossible to read. So when he reluctantly agreed to play Truth or Dare with you, Logan, Robert, Arthur, and a few of your female friends you were surprised. He was always a ‘stay in the corner and observe’ kinda guy, but now he was sat in a circle, an ice cold beer in his large hand.

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Logan nudges you, forcing you to take your eyes off Oscar. “Oh, uh dare?” You say, doubting your own choice. It’s Arthur who speaks up, a devious smile on his face.

“I dare you to do that minutes in heaven thing that Logan had to do with a driver of your choosing.” He tells you, the smirk on his face suggesting that he expected himself to be picked.

You stand up, smoothing down your dress before walking over to Oscar and extending your hand. “You coming?” You ask, eyebrow quirked. “He hopes so.” Logan laughs, sending the circle into a fit of giggles. Oscar rolls his eyes before pulling himself up and grasping your hand in his, leading you away to the closet. Arthur trails behind the two of you, locking the door after you enter. “We’ll start a seven minute timer for you, if you want to leave early then knock on the door three times.” You and Oscar confirm that you’re good to go before you hear the soft pad of Arthur walking away.

The two of you are left illuminated by the pale yellow lighting of the closet. The shadows cast over Oscar’s face, revealing a gentle smile. “We, uh, we don’t have to do anything. I have no expectations of you and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Oscar rambles, his eyes avoiding yours.

“Oscar.” You say, attempting to interrupt his rant.

“I don’t want to assume that you picked me because you’re attracted to me, I mean don’t get me wrong I’d like to hope that that’s why but if it’s not that’s totally okay.” He continues.

“Oscar.”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

He freezes, lips parted and eyes wide. “You really want that? With me?” He asks. You giggle slightly at his reaction. “Why else would I pick you Oz?” You question, hand coming to cup the back of his neck. He leans in, your breaths mingling in the small space. His lips touch yourself, briefly and softly, but you know they’re there and you whimper, pushing your lips harder against him.

Once he senses your eagerness he’s quick to reciprocate it, his lips moving perfectly with yours. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, his tongue now sliding against your own.

“Oscar, we have seven minutes. Do something please.” You beg against his lips, causing him to groan in response and rest his forehead against yours. “You want me to touch you? To make you cum with everyone outside?” He asks teasingly, shocking you with this switch in demeanour.

“God yes please Oscar.” You whine, grinding your hips against his thigh resting between your legs. His large hand comes to rest under your dress, sliding your underwear to the side and feeling the slick gathering already.

“Is this what I do to you?“ He asks and you nod in response, unable to find words as his fingers find your clit. “Poor girl, you must be so needy. Desperate.” He whispers, placing kisses across your neck as your hand tangles in his hair. You pull lightly when his finger slips inside you, making him moan against your skin.

He curls his fingers against your walls, your back arching in pleasure as you let out a moan of his name. “Oh god, right there, fuck- please.” You babble incoherently as a second finger joins his first.

“So tight for me baby, I want you to cum on my fingers so I can lick them clean. Have the taste of you in my mouth for the rest of the night, d’you want that?” You barely comprehend Oscar’s words, his fingers moving at a rapid pace. Your moans become more high pitched, joined by the slick sounds of Oscar’s fingers moving in and out of you.

“So close Oscar, please, please, please.” You whine, grinding your clit against the palm of his hand as he continues his actions.

“I know Y/N, I know. Soak my hand for me come on, we haven’t got long.” He reminds you, hitting the spot that makes your legs turn to jelly. Your mouth drops open, a moan on the verge of slipping out before Oscar’s mouth covers your own. He muffles the loud moan of his name with his tongue, feeling your walls spasm around his fingers.

“There we go, good girl. Let it go f’me.” He tells you, slowing his fingers but continuing to draw the remnants of your orgasm from your body. When you’re spent he slides his fingers out, sucking them clean with a groan.

Arthur’s knock sounds and the lock clicks open. The two of you hastily pat down your hair and clothing before stepping back into the room. You’re a sight to behold, hair and lipstick messy, dress hitched slightly too high and legs trembling. Oscar’s not much better, flushed cheeks, ruffled hair and a sly grin on his face.

“So, what did you two besties get up to in there?” Logan asks, smirking as you both go beet red. “Didn’t sound like anything people who are ‘just friends’ do.” He adds, quirking an eyebrow. Arthur slaps his hands onto Oscar’s shoulders. “Right there Oscar, so good, oh god.” He mimics, everyone laughing at the way you both side eye each other in awkwardness.

Oscar grabs your hand, pulling you out of the party to finish what you had started. But not until he tells Logan that you’re not just friends, and now everyone knows it.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 smut #op81

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f1version · 1 year

Text

MY PERSON ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x no-socials!reader

summary: Charles posts an update on your relationship with a beautiful message.

note: a little something that might cease the possible heartbreak of the race or might be a celebration for all tifosi.

kind of part two here

charlesleclerc

Liked by pierregasly, landonorris and 1,718,569 others

charlesleclerc Today I made the most important and easiest decision of my life. That beautiful woman in the pictures is Y/n Y/l/n, soon to be Y/n Y/l/n-Leclerc, you may not know about her a lot since she prefers to keep a lower profile, but i’m so glad I have the privilege to know her. And now to love her for the rest of our lives.

Y/n you’re the love of my life. I don't know how many times I'll have to tell you how in love with you and how much you mean to me for it to be enough. It’ll never be enough, at least for me. You are my happiness, you are sunshine and midnight rain.

Mon amour, you and I know love is about finding the person who completes what you are missing, loves what you share, stays during hard times, and celebrates the good ones. Y/n, ten months ago, when I started planing my proposal, I realized that you were that person for me because of a question Pierre asked me: Does she make you a better version of yourself, one you ever dreamed you could be? And I could only say yes. Just looking into your eyes, I understand how you feel, looking into your eyes I see you, i’m in love with you. You are my soulmate, my person.

Mon coeur est bien,

Charles.

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arthur_leclerc I have a new favorite family member

charlesleclerc i love you too or whatever

pierregasly my biggest flex: I played a crucial role into this, charles is too stupid

pierregasly imagine if the ring fell onto the snow

andferrari007 it did

charlesleclerc please don’t remind me that

danielricciardo If you mess up i will unalive you, and then y/n and i will marry as the best friends we are 🫡

charlesleclerc HAHA no

danielricciardo you will see

maxverstappen1 charles run

landonorris CHARLES YOU DID IT AAAAHHHHHH

charlesleclerc I DID IT

carlossainz55 Felicidades!! ❤️

charlesleclerc Gracias, Carlos❤️

lewishamilton You’ll be the happiest, I know it 💙

charlesleclerc ❤️❤️

sebastianvettel Congrats, Charles and Y/n! Hoping you have a wonderful marriage and life together.❤️

charlesleclerc Thank you, Seb! Love you.

joris__trouche Photos by me y’all, I was there to watch Charles almost piss himself!!!!

charlesleclerc SHUT UP I WAS FULLY CONFIDENT

joris__trouche sure mate, at least hope one kid is named after me 😔

charlesleclerc I don’t enjoy Joris Leclerc

arthur_leclerc what about Arthur Leclerc

charlesleclerc not calling them after you 😐

maxverstappen1 I have a better one ✨Max Leclerc✨

charlesleclerc please never say that again

pierregasly pierre leclerc

charlesleclerc STOP

Your head rests on Charles’ shoulders, he scrolls through the comments of your family, friends, loved ones, and Charles’ colleagues. He laughs at the discussion about his future child’s name, his dimples showing perfectly.

“Have you imagined that?” The brown-haired man spoke out of nowhere, turning down to look you in the eyes.

“Imagine what, Charlie?” You reply, needing slight confirmation of what he is referring to.

"Children, a family... you know, the whole future after this happens" the green-eyed continued, pointing at the ring on your finger at the end, making you blush quickly.

“Of course, I have, mon chéri, you?”

"More than once, ange, I want everything with you" He answers sweetly. Charles was so in love with you since he asked you to be his girlfriend, he hadn’t imagined a future without you. He imagined you and him, traveling the world, a beautiful, healthy family, and him and you fulfilling your dreams together. You were all reasons he had to smile on the darkest days.

You, on her side, looked at your fiancé, curious and somewhat captivated by him. Charles’ look made you feel, so in love, you might burst. You felt confident with your decisions, and with your life.

About ten months ago, when Charles and you were at the Italian GP, Charles said he loved you, he said those two words, and you echoed him. You were completely sure you loved him. But when it came to "I'm in love with you" it was a long process, you didn’t play with those words.

I love you meant a promise only you could give, only you could get for him. It meant: I want you to be happy. But I'm in love with you meant that promise would be kept even if it wasn’t with you, it was giving your heart forever. It meant: I want you to be happy, even without me.

It may seem like a ridiculous concept to some people, they are words, but words are the source of expression the majority of humans possess.

They say that actions are worth a thousand words, however, it’s never suggested words are not valuable, or everlasting.

For you, they were everlasting, once you said them there was no going back. Two years later after the ‘i love you’ Charles said to be in love with you. But it was not your time, and Charles didn’t mind waiting for you to be ready.

And when you were ready, it was perfect.

You were at home in Monaco that day. During sunrise, you and Charles made love as if the world was ending; by morning you went hiking, and while being on top of the world, you realized. You realized you didn't care if you ended up heartbroken, you were ready to put the past and future aside and just live in the present.

“Charles,” You said that day, he looked at you so deeply, waiting. “I'm in love with you.”

He kissed you after that, just like he was kissing you now after you said the same thing, the difference being the place, and the fact that you had an engagement ring on your finger.

“Thanks for choosing me.” The Monegasque whisper. He kept kissing you, bringing you closer to him, showing you with actions how much he appreciated your existence.

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amidnightjen · 1 year

Text

It was in that unfortunate moment that Merlin realised he was in love with an idiot.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Merlin asked flatly.

“In my defence - ”

“No,” Merlin cut him off before he could finish that sentence because there was simply no way Arthur was talking himself out of this.

“Well, really - ”

“No,” Merlin said again.

“I think you’re being very unreasonable about this Merlin,” Arthur protested. “It was an honest mistake, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“No.”

“Merlin.”

“There’s no getting out of this,” Merlin snapped.

“Of course there is,” Arthur dismissed. “They can’t seriously…” he trailed off at Merlin’s stony look. “Merlin,” he began, and now he sounded hesitant and unsure, “did I marry a member of the sidh today?”

“Yes,” Merlin confirmed. “By accident. Apparently.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand.” But the expression on Merlin’s face must have finally registered because he said, “Surely there’s a way out of this.”

There was. Of course there was, it was going to be tricky and awkward and involve him saying words to Arthur he’d never planned on saying out loud. But a marriage contract with the sidh? Even an accidental one - and don’t think they wouldn’t be talking about how that even came about - was binding in ways beyond the standard laws. To get out of this was going to require something deeper and stronger.

Merlin gave a pained sound. Why did he always end up being the one to rescue Arthur from this sort of thing?

“Do you love me?” He asked, blunt and to the point because the moon would be rising soon and they were short on time.

“What? Merlin? What are you talking about?”

“Arthur this is very important, it won’t work unless you tell me the absolute truth.”

“What won’t work? You’re not making any sense.”

“Do you love me?” Merlin repeated his question and this probably should have been a very lovely and emotional moment but instead they were sitting around a campfire and Merlin was very aware that the other knights were blatantly eavesdropping when they were supposed to be very studiously not paying attention.

“Merlin,” Arthur managed to make his name sound like a threat.

“Arthur, I’m serious.”

For all that Merlin had hoped his feelings might be returned, he’d genuinely never thought they’d be having a conversation like this.

But Arthur finally seemed to realise Merlin wasn’t playing around because he swallowed, looked everywhere but at Merlin before he seemed to find it in himself to say, “Yes.”

“Right, then.’ Merlin stood from the log he’d been sitting on and said, “Please don’t kill me after this,” and then summoning his magic around him, embracing his identity as Emrys, Merlin stormed off into the woods to stake his pre-existing claim on the idiot king of Camelot.

He’d have to deal with Arthur learning about his magic once he was done.

#may writing challenge #bbc merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #merlin #merlin emrys #magic reveal

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il-miele-che-scrive · 3 months

Text

you know what people are saying when a girl gets cheated on? go for his brother.

a/n not tryna offend anyone, I just love a lil drama

Part 2 here

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username1 Miss Y/n Y/l/n getting cheated on? No one is safe fr

↳username2 Yeah cuz how's he casually cheating on a literal goddess??

username3 they were together for almost 2 years😭

username4 My therapist will hear about this

↳username1 And Arthur is paying the bill

username5 that's it I'm NEVER trusting a man

username6 Isn't that girl Y/n's friend too? Poor girl getting cheated on twice

↳username3 yes it is 😭 guess Arthur got it from his brother

username7 Except Charles didn't cheat 😭 he's a homie hopper but he got morals

username8 I don't worry about Y/n, she's gonna find a new bf, but she wasted almost 2 years on him

yourusername excuse my state i'm as high as your hopes

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username2 Miss girl about to enter her hoe phase

↳username3 As she should tbh

charlottesiine Lots of fun last night🤍

↳yourusername nothing will beat an ex wags night out

↳username2 best ex wags fr 😭

yoursister Next time I'm going too to keep an eye on you wtf

username4 Wait so Y/n and Charlotte are friends? When did this happen?

↳username5 Yeah cuz we've never seen them hang out back when ChaCha was a thing and suddenly the girls are partying together?

↳username6 I mean it could be just a "we both suffered a Leclerc so let's hang out" kinda thing

username5 WE BOTH SUFFERED A LECLERC 💀 no okay but that's valid

username7 Am I the only one noticing this post was liked by Charles?

↳username2 He knows his lil bro messed up lmao

username8 Okay guys so what are we betting on - did Charles like this post because of Y/n or because of Charlotte? Also, isn't he in a relationship?

↳username3 Charles has been single for a few months now, he's free to like whoever he wants lmao

↳username9 It's just a like it's not that deep

arthur_leclerc You were my cup of tea but I drink vanilla latte now

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username1 The AUDACITY some men have

username2 and she was her best friend 😭

username3 I really want to believe they broke up before he got with the best friend but I don't think it's true

↳username4 Y/n and Arthur literally attended Charles' race a few days before we got the pics of Arthur with the other girl

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yourusername you don't mean nothing at all to me

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yoursister And I didn't even have to stop you from calling your ex

↳yourusername why would I even wanna call him anyways

yoursister Riiight, you were too busy getting to know some other interesting people:)

username1 What is Y/s/n talking about?

↳username2 Or rather WHO is she talking about?

username3 No Charlotte in the post but Charles is in the likes again 😶

↳username4 Have you seen what this one gossip page posted? Charles being in the likes isn't the thing I'd worry about here

username5 WHAT.

username3 Care to elaborate?

username4 Charles was also at the club with Y/n. It honestly looks like it was organized by a friend of his and he took Y/n there

username2 OH

username2 That's what Y/s/n is talking about

username5 Our girl Y/n is getting promoted from F2 to F1 and I love to see that

↳username6 LMAO it's so funny because it's true 😭

↳username2 Do we know who else was at this party?

username4 Allegedly the party was organized by Gasly, so obviously there was his gf Kika, but also some fellow drivers like Albon, Russell, Sainz, Ocon, Ricciardo and their gfs

username5 I was joking but now it looks like Y/n is actually becoming an F1 wag now lol

username7 Gossip girl on wheels I've been saying it for months

username8 But the caption SLAPS

↳username9 no because it looks like Y/n and Arthur are having a caption war lol it's funny

username8 It's childish but let a girl heal from a heartbreak in peace

yourusername karma will take it from here

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username1 MISS GIRL?? WHO IS THE MAN??

↳username2 We all know it's Charles (allegedly)

username8 Nah cuz I told yall she's gonna find another boyfriend soon

yoursister Loving to see you happy again ❤️

↳yourusername just needed a little upgrade

username3 I have no proof but I just know it's Charles

username4 Do we think she went for Charles because she genuinely likes him or just to get back at Arthur?

↳username5 Wait until someone starts a "she cheated on Arthur with Charles" gossips

username6 My two favorite red flags

↳username7 The homie hopper and the brother hopper, a match made in heaven

username6 The homie hopper is so real, Y/n recently hung out with his ex Charlotte 💀

username8 What kinda brother gets with his brother's ex?

↳username9 Imagine the next family dinner lmao

username10 Y'all it's not even confirmed that the man is Charles, y'all are crazy

↳username6 The post was liked by all the F1 drivers and their partners that were on the party from Y/n's previous post, it says a lot

↳username2 What @/username6 said and also Y/n is now followed by half of the F1 grid AND the wags

charles_leclerc Not your cup of tea, but my glass of wine

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yourusername KARMA IS MY BOYFRIEND❤️

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#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #Charles Leclerc smau #Arthur Leclerc x reader

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immajustvibehere · 5 months

Text

Amidst a Crashing World (1/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You had left the gang about a year ago. There were many reasons as to why, but that you had received a rather gruff rejection from the man you loved was definitely on that list. Now, Arthur appears in front of your little cabin with an interesting demand.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

Link to my Masterlist

1600 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

It had been a year since you had last seen him. He was one of the reasons why you had decided to leave the gang. Because it had become unbearable to be around the man you had feelings for. The man you had confessed those feelings to and the man who had rejected you. It had been an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Dutch had been talking about a bigger score for a while now and the mission had only been a few days away. You had approached Arthur who had been seated near a campfire with Hosea and Reverend, deep in a seemingly serious but one-sided conversation.

"May I talk to you for a moment?", you had pleaded. Your hands had been shaking. You had been aware: every score the boys went on held the possibility of never seeing them again. And you had felt brave that day. Brave enough to finally confess that you had feelings for this man. He was kind enough and caring towards you. He never was someone to express affection too openly so you hoped...that even if he did not feel entirely the same, he might be open to get to know you better and give you a chance.

"Sure", Arthur had grunted, a little groggily and stood up. You had walked a few steps away from Reverend and Hosea, just far enough to make give them the impression that this was supposed to be a private conversation. Quickly, but precisely and not without a certain shake in your voice, you let Arthur know that you liked him. More than the normal amount at least.

You peaked through your curtains to watch this very man dismount from his horse and caringly fix its reins next to the one of your horse, which was barely acknowledging the visitor.

For a moment, Arthur had just stared. Then he had shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a warm but stifled chuckle escaping his throat.

"Yer joking, aren't ya?", he mumbled as he nervously peeked back to Hosea and Reverend, who hadn’t exactly given you attention during this ordeal. When Arthur had caught your dead-serious face and how you swallowed after he had said those words, he knew that you, in fact, hadn’t been joking.

"I- ehr...I don't see ya like that, I'm sorry", he had stumbled over his words. His voice hadn’t been upbeat or hopeful, not even apologetic or friendly. No, the longer you had turned those words over in your mind afterwards, you heard how bitter, how disappointed, and somewhat accusatory he sounded. He had turned around and had walked back to his log, shaking his head, chuckling coldly.

Arthur's hand plunged into his jacket, and he pulled out a wrinkly, yellowy paper that he unfolded. As he held the paper in one hand, a grin flitted across his face, before he took a breath and started loudly:

"I'm looking for the fierce, the ferocious....", Arthur stopped and plucked a ripe tomato from its stem. You had been growing this beautiful tomato plant right next to the gate that separated your garden from the path that travellers commonly used. But Arthur was the first one who had the audacity to help himself. Then he went on: "The downright awful degenerate y/n. Supposedly, she robbed a stagecoach and left the driver in a condition that left much to desire...She has fled to find refuge from her abhorrent, ginormous bounty of 15 proud dollars!"

Arthur had a shit-eating big grin on his face when you finally pushed the door to your little cabin open. He popped the tomato into his mouth, savouring the taste as he watched you step into the light and lean against the door frame.

"That you?", Arthur asked indistinctly with his mouth full, quick to catch some tomato juice with his sleeve as it escaped the corner of his mouth. He held up the bounty poster that showed the most unflattering sketch of your features that you had ever seen.

"I look myself in the mirror quite often, but I've never seen this creature staring back", you joked as you nodded at the sketch. You were still unsure what his sudden appearance at your doorstep was supposed to mean.

Arthur shrugged and sarcastically answered: "I really think they did ya justice. Have you seen the pictures going round of me?"

You had. They weren't nearly as bad as the one he held up of you. But they did paint him more cruel than he looked right now. Honestly, knowing him better, all you can see is an actually soft man which might look big and scary when he swings his gun around, but now, as he took his hat off, he looked harmless. The afternoon sun nearly blinded him as he looked at you, but he deemed the gesture necessary to be polite, apparently.

"Yer trying to take me in for a 15 dollar bounty?", you asked and crossed your arms.

"Don't want'a sound rude but that's barely worth it...", Arthur smiled, "No I ehrm...was close by. A farmer down that way told me you was living here. I helped him fix a wheel on his waggon."

"Sure...", you mumbled suspiciously. There was no way you would have naturally come up in this conversation.

"'s been a while...", Arthur commented.

"Yeah. More than a year. Took me this long to figure out how it'd bear fruit", you pointed at the tomato plant Arthur had stolen from.

Shamelessly, he plugged another one and ate it, "They're good."

"I know", you sighed. You had given up and moved aside to let the man into your cabin.

It was a humble little place. Just big enough to fit a table, three chairs, a bed, a stove and a cupboard. Arthur noticed the rifle that leaned next to the bed, the few books that were scattered on the table and finally his eyes fell on a couple of sketches you had pinned onto the wall. After leaving the gang, you had tried your luck with drawing. Yes, it was a way to remember Arthur, because though you haven't seen many of his drawings, you knew he sketched everything he laid his eyes on.

For a moment, you hoped that Arthur would comment on your sketches. There was one of a doe that you were particularly proud of, but Arthur just briefly scanned them before turning his attention back to you.

"Nice little cabin ya got here...killed the fella that lived in it before or...?", Arthur suggested, his eyes falling on a little hole in the roof that needed fixing and the bedframe which was uneven and brittle.

You almost laughed at the suggestion: "No. It belongs to an old lady who went to live with her sister in the city. She gave me the cabin to look out for, until her grandson is old enough to live in it."

"Oh", Arthur commented, fidgeting with his hat.

You had spent months trying to forget this man. You were sure you'd never see him again, not if you could have helped it. You were glad about leaving your affiliations with the van der Linde gang behind. However, this had never been the official deal. The deal had been that you could roam for a while, figure yourself out and then join back. You never did. And now you had a sour feeling as to why this man was currently scanning your backyard through the window.

"Why are you here?", you asked, your tone serious.

"It's good to see you again", Arthur light-heartedly said. It almost sounded like a joke.

"Arthur", you warned him.

"Lot has happened since you left...", Arthur said, still wandering around in this cabin as if he was scanning the small territory, "we lost some people in Blackwater...Mac and Davey...Jenny..."

You knew about Mac. It was reported in the newspaper, but when Arthur mentioned Jenny, your jaw dropped. You felt a sort of anger flare up. You had gotten along well with Jenny. She was a kind and funny girl and you had considered her a friend.

"How did- Why...How did this even happen?!", you grumbled, "Jenny wasn't someone who would be in the midst of a fight. Hell, she knew how to handle a gun, but-"

"I know", Arthur interrupted, "couple weeks ago we lost Sean, too."

"Why are you here, Arthur? And why are you telling me this?"

"Wanted to see how you've been doing...", he shrugged, but his demeanour changed when you opened a drawer. You didn't even need to pull out the gun before Arthur stopped with the sugarcoating.

"Dutch wants you back."

Hell, this didn't sound like a suggestion. It was more like a threat. Arthur was here to collect you. Not for a 15-dollar bounty, but for Dutch. Because he had lost too many people and now you needed to jump in. Also, every bit of hope you held close to your heart, that Arthur...that there was a tiny bit of him that wanted to see you. That he really wondered how you had been doing.

It died with those words. It stung.

"Get out", you demanded.

"Y/N-"

"Arthur, I'm not coming back."

"Dutch-"

"I don't care. I don't give a fuck what Dutch wants", you yelled, slowly pulling the gun out, "Honestly, you have some nerve showing up with this request."

Then, you had to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it and laugh because you were hurt. The laughter helped to supress the tears, for now.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me, sweetheart", Arthur said knowingly, putting his hat back on and slowly backing out towards the door, arms still raised because he didn't want to give you the impression that he'd draw on you.

"Don't flatter yourself", you said, slowly walking towards him to make him move out of your house, "I wouldn't shoot your pretty face, but I can put holes in other parts of your body and it would hurt enough."

You felt bold, cocked the gun and aimed at his leg.

"Y/N..."

"Tell Dutch you didn't find me. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him I forced you to draw on me and you shot me...I honestly don't care. I'm not going back. I'm not...canon fodder for a cause I don't believe in anymore", you stated, your eyes fixed on Arthur. He might just notice that tears pricked your eyes, there was a hint of concern in his features.

When he opened his mouth, you were quick to interrupt him: "If you care for me just the tiniest fucking bit...yer gonna fuck off right now and not come back."

You thought about how he'd answer, 'I don't see ya like that', lasso you and drag you back into whatever hole the gang was hiding at the moment, but instead, he tipped his hat, turned around and mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter: here

I never have the nerve to keep a consistent taglist, but here are some tags for people who said they might be interested in that sort of story:

@pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @lonesome-ranger @twola @shiokitsune @hugthedragon @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463

If you want to be tagged, please comment under this post if you want to be included to the taglist for this story OR any fic I post in future.

Special thanks to @little-honeypie 'cause we've been cooking that story up together <3

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x femreader

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