#Arthur will be in the next chapter promise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lumosinlove · 5 months

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Vaincre

June part i

Hope you all enjoy! Maybe all of Finn's superstitions in this chapter can go towards helping me beat this cold I've got...

Also, it's beginning to look a lot like ficmas...doo doo doo doo doo...:)

Ain’t it funny how I’ve wanted this all my life?

It started with a no look pass. That’s when Remus felt the buzz. Sirius had nearly put one in from James, who had kept his eyes straight ahead, drawing Saint’s attention. And it had almost worked. At least it had brought the promising feeling of a win. The click of the team. Remus shouldn’t be thinking like that. They were six minutes away from the first period's horn and this game changed at the drop of a hat. Logan had collided with Kota at one point, and there was something there now. Quiet hostility. A they were mine first type of deal. Remus could see it all over Logan’s face, no matter how much Kota loomed over him.

Now the Rangers had a high sticking penalty. Remus took his mouth guard out as the whistle blew and shoved it into his glove. Sirius was on the other side of the ice, on the tail of one of the referees and talking a mile a minute, gesturing to James and his bloody lip. There was a kid at the glass just behind him with a sign that said Nuts for Knutty! and he was still clutching the puck Leo had thrown him earlier. Remus almost wished the game would just pause for a moment so he could take it in properly. If this was to be the last game of his first season in the NHL, he wanted to remember it.

“Ouch,” Remus said to James as they circled close for the face-off.

“You bet,” James said, dabbing at his mouth.

Coach kept him on for the penalty kill. Sirius faced off against Zibanejad and Remus darted backwards when he won it. It had that game six feeling: All of them just wanting it to be over already, the slog of knowing that, if the Lions wanted it to go their way, they had one more full game stretch after this one to push through. Maybe more. Play-offs meant there was no over-time, and no shoot-out, just endless periods until someone gave in.

The puck was stuck in their zone and Thomas was beginning to look gassed. Kasey was up in the net, shifting with every ebb and flow of the Rangers’ passing. Remus poked the puck out from Kakko’s grasp and hoped it was clean—he’d nearly felt like he’d hooked it, but the whistle didn’t go. He managed to get it out of the zone and saw Thomas and Olli race off towards the bench gratefully.

He and Sirius didn’t say anything once they were seated next to each other, just caught their breath and watched. Pascal delivered a sound slap-shot, but it went just wide. Logan got the rebound, easy, and sent it to Fox. The horn went just before they put anything real together.

“D’accord,” Sirius said, tapping Remus’ thigh. “We’re not good, but we’re not bad.”

“What an endorsement.”

Remus handed off his gloves off to be dried as they walked down the tunnel. He could hear fans shouting their names as they passed by the glass that looked into the VIP lounge. There was a small girl standing there in a BLACK jersey. Remus watched as Sirius smiled down at her and touched his glove to the glass. The girl grinned and a woman who Remus thought must be her mother promptly burst into tears.

“Jesus.” Thomas laughed from behind him.

“Just me, actually,” Sirius said, and Thomas shoved him.

The locker room already had music playing so Remus guessed that Coach had decided to let them be, or perhaps Sirius had requested a players only break. Remus sat back in his stall and yanked his helmet off. He cut through the beat up tape of his stick with a short blade and sent a look towards Leo, who had a towel around his neck. He was leaned in close to Kasey, who was talking quietly to him.

“Kind of thought Coach was going to say something,” Thomas said. “Is Cap…”

“I didn’t hear him ask,” Remus said, but looked towards Sirius. He was glancing towards the door, too. It opened, and Remus expected Arthur or one of the assistants, but to his surprise, Alex O’Hara slipped through. He was in full gear, only a backwards hat replacing his helmet.

“Oh,” Remus breathed. He looked towards Kasey and Leo. Oh.

“What the hell,” Thomas said. He opened his mouth, obviously ready to shout something at Alex, but Remus put a hand on his thigh to stop him. Thomas looked over at him. “What?”

Kasey had already seen Alex and Remus watched his chest rise and fall in a quick, uneven breath. He put a hand on Leo’s knee, gave him a short smile, and then stood just as Alex reached him. Alex put a hand on his waist, but they said nothing. Kasey simply held his gaze for a long moment, and then turned to the room.

Oh.

“Hey, boys,” Kasey said, voice raised. “Boys, can I…” He’d taken some of his padding off, his hair pushed back from his face. “Can I talk for a second?”

It took everyone a moment to quiet down. They were a little surprised, maybe. Kasey wasn’t one to make speeches, even if it was a players only meeting, but he walked slowly to the center of the locker room.

“Sorry,” he smiled, but it was shaky. “I know we’re all focused on the W. I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t worry, Bliz. What’s up?” Sirius said, and Remus saw that his gray eyes were already somber. They darted to Remus’. If Remus had to guess, Kasey had asked Sirius to keep the room clear for him. Maybe even to have someone get Alex.

“Well. Thanks, Cap.” He looked around at them all. “Look, I know our season’s not over, boys, but I just wanted to say…God.” Kasey cleared his throat, looked down so his hair fell back into his face some. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Kase,” Alex said softly from just behind him.

Remus couldn’t describe how difficult it was, watching Kasey, Kasey of all people, get choked up. Watch him work to speak around tears. He watched some of the others realize what was probably about to happen. Thomas’ face fell. Leo stood, like he was going to go to Kasey.

“There, uh,” Kasey cleared his throat, tried for a smile. “There isn’t much I love more than you guys. Really. These years have just been the best of my life.”

“Bliz…” James breathed, took a step forward. The realization was slow around the room, but it was there. This had been in the air for so long that it felt strange to see it properly.

“Really, they have.” Kasey said. “I mean…God, lock me in this room, see if I put up a fight. I won’t. But. But it’s not good for me. I don’t want out of this game, I really don’t, I just—my body can’t do it anymore, boys. And I have to see that. I have to respect it.”

Remus put a hand to his chest. It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t remember ever having any sort of conversation like this one with his college teammates. Sometimes, he thought he had forced himself to forget moments from that time. Pushed them out of his mind. Now, he tried to remember. He tried to think of saying goodbye, or good game, or even being in the locker room with his sling. He couldn’t remember, but he wanted to help Kasey and so he tried. All that came was a blur of pain and dark rooms and a young, young Julian.

“I just…I have a feeling that…” Kasey wiped at his eyes. “Fuck. I know I shouldn’t have done this in the middle of a fucking—elimination game, oh my God.” It drew a small laugh out of most of the team. “You know, this isn’t gonna be our final game of the season, no fucking way, but it could be mine because it’s hard out there and—” His voice pitched up and he cleared his throat. “And I didn’t want it to happen, I didn’t want it to end, without everyone knowing, which is probably—maybe at one point in my life I would’ve called that selfish but I don’t think it is now.”

And then Leo was at his side, hand on his shoulder. He was crying, too, blue eyes vivid.

Kasey smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “And look whose fucking hands you’re in, all right? You’re good as golden.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. No one seemed to know what to say. Leo hugged Kasey, eyes closed and fisting the back of his jersey. Sirius walked forward next, and it seemed to break the spell.

“Don’t tempt me about locking you in here, Bliz,” Thomas said as he strode forward. “I just might do it.”

Kasey laughed as Thomas pulled him into a tight hug. He thumped Kasey on the back. “You going back out with us, right?”

“I want to,” Kasey said. “I think I can.”

“We’ll get this for you,” Sirius said. He put a hand on Kasey’s shoulder. “This is still yours, all of it. No matter what. You know that.”

Kasey looked at Sirius for a long moment. “Cap. Thank you. I don’t think my career would be the same without you.”

Sirius brow drew together and he shook his head. “Non. It’s all you, man.”

His eyes went behind Sirius. “And Dumo…” He pressed his lips together, unable to finish. “I…You’re…”

“Bliz,” Pascal smiled softly. “I’m probably not too far behind you in this case. I know that.”

Remus walked forward and put a hand on Sirius’ back.

“All I can say is that it’s an honor to play with you at our backs,” Pascal said.

Someone let out a whoop, and then they room was sort of clapping, sort of crying, and at least one strand of tension broke.

“I’m feeling a group hug,” Thomas said. “No, Cap, don’t pull that look on me. C’mon. Everyone, get your ass up.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh, tearful as it was as he let Sirius wrap him up on one side, Thomas on the other. Timmy, Olli, Kota, Leo, Kris, Pascal.

There was a little jostle after a moment as a final person enthusiastically joined.

“Alex,” Pascal said without opening his eyes. “You should absolutely be here, but get your elimination game Ranger blue out of our hug.”

“My bad.”

Finn didn’t like being home alone. He didn’t like that he couldn’t watch the game. He didn’t like saying goodbye to Leo and Logan, knowing they weren’t going to the same place—or even if they were, to different teams. He wanted to be in the room. He wanted to play, he wanted the burn of his muscles. He wanted to press his shoulder up against Logan’s, or Alex’s, he wanted to defend Kasey and fight anything that even touched Leo.

Instead he was sitting on the couch with all the lights off and the shades down, listening to the crackle of the radio broadcast come from his computer with the screen turned away from him. He was waiting for period two to start, not in the tunnel to the ice, but when a a plate of what felt like the first truly solid food he’d eaten in weeks. Logan had given him a big kiss when he’d asked for Leo’s spicy chicken and rice burritos. Leo and hummed away happily in the kitchen making them and served him one with a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Okay, being taken care of wasn’t that hard.

His phone rang and he knew it was his mom without having to check.

“Hi,” he said around a mouthful, flipping the screen down towards the couch.

“Hi, baby. Just checking in. Fast game, huh? You doing okay? Eating dinner?”

“Mhm, I’m good. I mean—you know. As good as I can be. Listening.”

“Aw, sweetheart. I know.” He could hear the buzz of the stadium behind her, picked out Natalie’s laugh. “I know this isn’t how you pictured it at all.”

Finn sat back against the couch. “Yeah. Did you see Al?”

“For a second before the game. And Logan. He said that if we talk to you during the game to say he loves you.”

Finn smiled. “Mm. Good. How’s Leo looking on the bench?”

“Oh, they showed just the cutest shot of him like a little turtle—well, no a very tall turtle, with his mouth and nose in his jersey. But he seems good. Kasey seems good, too. He’s made some incredible saves.”

“They sound incredible,” Finn said. “Got your whiskey?”

She laughed. “Oh, you know it. Oh, baby, we’re starting. Gotta go, but I love you very much all right? Your dad, says so, too.”

“Love ya, bud!” came his dad’s voice from a little farther away.

Finn, honestly, felt a little choked up. He blinked the tears away and looked around the dim room. They would only make his head ache. “Love you guys, too.”

He heard the phone disconnect and rested his head back against the couch, suddenly not so hungry anymore. He wrapped his plate up for later and squinted an eye shut at the bright refrigerator light. He put the kettle on—could nothing be easy while using one hand?—and steeped some mint tea. When he came back to the couch, throwing a blanket over his legs, the commercials were over.

No, let’s be honest, if Kasey Winter hadn’t made those saves in the first—I don’t know where the Lions would be right now. Sitting in their dressing room and making fucking long summer plans, that’s for sure. Instead, this is a close game, a competitive game, and most importantly, both teams are still in the game.

I agree with you, Matt. Let’s go to the bench now, for an interview with Rangers’ Logan Tremblay.

“Oh, hi, baby,” Finn said softly.

Thanks, Matt. This is Cassie Baker here with Logan Tremblay—

Finn sat bolt upright. He knew—He knew that voice. Cassie. God. Cassie fucking Baker.

Logan, how do you think this period is going to shape up based on how aggressive that first period was so far?

“Holy fuck.” Finn couldn’t help but laugh. “Holy fuck?”

To Logan’s credit, he sounded just as shocked, as if he’d simply turned around and found Cassie there waiting for him. Cassie Baker. Finn remembered bouncing blonde curls and that god-damn Greek temple of the girl’s sorority house at school. Logan kissing her neck in the hallway. Harz, can we have the room for a bit? Coming back from a cancelled class and hearing—

Finn put a hand over his mouth and laughed again. “Okay. Oh man.”

I think we are two teams that want this badly, Logan was saying. Oh, he sounded so good. It’s going to be a fight, but hopefully entertaining for the fans.

How does it feel to possibly have the chance to eliminate your old team?

“Oh no,” Finn let himself fall sideways into the couch, right onto his shoulder. “Fuck.”

Logan’s laugh, disbelieving, still surprised, filled the room. Um. Intense.

Thanks for the time.

I—thanks.

Finn sat back up, holding his shoulder. Never had he ever wanted to talk to them more. He wanted to see Logan’s face. He wanted to see Leo with his chin tucked down against his chest. He didn’t want Leo sitting on the bench alone all game, watching the others work.

Zibanejad and Black on the face-off. The Rangers have a majority of these under their belts now, but Black wins in and it’s knocked back to Lupin. Remus Lupin, quite the surprise, the secret weapon, there are Olympic rumors, and Walker brings it right to the net—and scores! Oh, this game finally has some action!

“That makes one of us,” Finn said aloud to the room. He wasn’t sure he usually talked to himself this much. Maybe it was only that he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d been alone. The hospital room, he guessed, but even that had been for mere minutes, not hours. He tugged the blanket farther up his chest and pressed his nose into his sweatshirt. Leo’s. He held his mug close to his face. The mint. Logan’s.

Dumais to Reyes, oh, in a near miss! It’s pitched out of the zone by Fox and picked up again by Goodrow—

Finn winced as the thought that he didn’t care who won the game filtered into his mind. He just wanted them to come home.

Luke caught onto Logan’s look the second he was sat back on the bench, breathing hard.

“What,” Luke said. “What the fuck’s that look?”

Logan wasn’t sure where to begin. He risked another glance towards the ice tunnel. Cassie was standing there with the cameraman. She looked the same. Her hair was a shiny dark blonde, blue eyes bright, forget-me-not. She carried herself the same. She was talking fast to the cameraman, directing him with her hand that wasn’t holding her microphone. Confident. Easy. She dressed differently. Smart, well-tailored navy suit that made her short frame look taller. Their eyes met, and she sent him another nervous smile.

“Fuck,” Logan said. He flashed a quick one back and turned away.

“What?” Luke asked.

Paul, Rangers PR, had said nothing more than, Tremblay, you’re ESPN’s interview and then Logan had looked up to find…

Hi, Logan. Yeah, probably should’ve warned you a little better… It’s been a while.

Luke punched him in the arm. “Logan.”

“Ex-girlfriend.” Logan swallowed.

“Girlfriend?” Alex asked, perking up. “You, girlfriend?”

“Ouais.”

“Oh my God, show me.”

“The ESPN reporter.” Luke and Alex both whipped their heads around and Logan closed his eyes. “Don’t look.”

Alex ignored him. “The blonde?”

“She’s cute,” Luke said.

“Stop looking.”

“Didn’t she just interview you?” Alex asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“Obviously not,” Luke said. “Dude, you look fucking rattled, what did she do to you?”

Logan didn’t really want to think on it now. They had been good. Happy. For months, really. But she hadn’t had all of him, and she’d figured that much out quickly, if not who the rest of his heart was with.

“It’s more… It’s more what I did to her.” Logan shared a glance with Alex. “Or what I felt like I did to her.”

“Huh,” Luke said. “This is transcending bench talk.”

“Ooh,” Alex said. “Big word.”

“Fuck off.” Luke smiled a little, though. “Can you play with your ex-girlfriend watching, Tremzy?”

Logan hit Luke’s helmet with his stick. “Fuck off.”

Alex snorted as he pushed off the bench with Logan when Coach tapped their shoulders. “Are we gonna talk about the Leo Knut tendencies you seem to have always possessed?”

“Big word.” Logan shoved him so hard that he actually fell over, laughing all the way down. That was sure to be on Twitter somewhere later.

And Tremblay shoves O’Hara down. Laughing. Wonder what was so funny.

Finn sighed. “You and me both, bud.”

“Dev!”

Logan caught Luke’s back-pass and found himself trapped in the corner with Pascal, the puck between their two stick blades. Logan laughed a little, thought he heard Pascal do the same, but it was over too quickly to say anything. Logan knocked it out to Luke again who drew his stick right back and slammed it towards the goal. Kasey lunged for it, the odd, acute angle, but it went right under his glove.

“Yeah!” Logan put his hands up with a grin. He tried not to look at Pascal out of the corner of his eye.

He tapped his glove to Luke’s helmet when he skated into the celly, Percy slamming into their other side.

“Fucking finally, eh,” Percy shouted. He bumped his fist against Luke’s chest, then Logan’s. “Killer pass. Gorgeous.”

There was a buzzing in Logan’s ears. The crowd. Faces that were familiar but not from now. It was like someone had put a filter over his life and all the colors were different. His eyes found Leo on the bench. He was watching the replay on the big screen.

With ten minutes left in the second period, it did feel right that they had finally scored. Tied up, one-one. Logan skated to the bench and hauled himself over it, watching Panarin’s line go out.

He squirted water down the back of his neck and hit Luke’s thigh. “Good.”

“Yeah, well.” Luke wiped his visor clean with a towel. “Let’s just try and keep it up and end this round.”

Logan didn’t say anything. There was that feeling again. The one he couldn’t quite admit to himself. It was real once this round was over—or even realer than it was now. He wasn’t a Lion anymore. He was someone who ended the Lions’ season.

Panarin’s shot went wide twice and Trouba shot one over Kasey’s shoulder that got overturned for interference. Kasey stood with his back to the ice while the referees reviewed it. He had his helmet up and his water bottle in hand, but he didn’t drink. Logan knew Alex had gone into the Lions’ room. He knew what Kasey had announced. He wished he had been there. He wished he had known before Alex went so he could come. Kasey might not be on his team anymore, but he was still Kasey. He had wanted to stand next to Leo and hold his hand.

Six minutes left in the second. 1-1.

Logan jumped the boards right as the puck soared into the netting above the glass and the whistle went. Logan headed towards the Lions’ zone, but stopped when no one else did. He looked around.

“What’s up?” asked Will.

“I don’t know,” Logan said, frowning as Coach Arthur held up a T with his hands and Kasey started skating towards the bench. “They’re calling a time out.”

“Come on,” Finn said aloud to the dark room. “Come on.”

The more time went by, the more superstitious he seemed to get. He kept switching up his position on the couch. He’d even taken the computer into the kitchen while he finished his dinner, hoping they might have more luck if he was in a different room. He was putting his plate in the dishwasher when—

And looks like Leo Knut is taking Kasey Winter’s place in goal for the second game in a row.

Finn turned. “Le.”

Why the sudden switch, we’ll have to wait and see but one could only guess that it has something to do with Kasey Winter’s injury struggles this season. Well, recent seasons, I should say. I gotta feel for the guy, he’s one hell of a goalie.

Finn shut the dishwasher with a beep and cursed. As the final minutes of the second period wound down, he tried to picture Leo there. Wary of Logan. Trying to forget that it was Logan. Just number 71.

Tremblay with a high shot. Finn closed his eyes. —Goes wide of Knut. Kakko picks it up.

Finn listened to the third leaning against the kitchen island with his fingers against his lips. Waiting to hear Logan’s name, or Leo’s. LoganLeoLoganLeo, forced to go against each other.

Instead, it felt like all he heard was Remus’.

Lupin has had ten shots on goal alone in these last two periods. None of them have gone in mind you, but that fact is impressive and—oh that’s from Walker straight to Lupin’s tape and carrying, carrying, back to Walker, no look—and he scores! Remus Lupin with a five-hole on a beauty of a no looker from Thomas Walker! He brings it up to 2-1 Lions.

“Yeah!” Finn shouted, rising to his feet. “Fuck yes!”

He wanted to turn on the TV. He wanted to see. He wanted to watch them celebrate, he wanted to skate across the ice and hug Remus because he would have been on the line. He would have. He could have helped.

“Fucking sling,” Finn whispered, tugging at the elastic strap. Most of tea had long gone cold, and he wanted a popsicle to suck on and dull out the ache in his head a little. Or, really, he wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep but he couldn’t do that. Not before the game was through. It was only 9:30 for fuck sake. Though he did find himself wishing that it wouldn’t go to any OT periods. If he stayed standing he’d stay awake.

He paced to the window as the puck battled between zones. Logan was feisty tonight. He’d come close to blows with Kota twice it sounded like. The Rangers went up on a power play when Kota tripped Logan and Finn nearly cheered before remembering that it was the Rangers. Finn walked around the couch as the whistle blew for another Rangers icing. Whoever kept dumping was only doing the Lions a favor.

“C’mon,” Finn mumbled. “I’m tired and I miss you, c’mon.”

Logan on power play one. Logan, Alex. Back to Logan. Finn was too tense, he really wasn’t supposed to be this tense, he was supposed to be firmly relaxing. But Leo. God, Logan and Alex in front of Leo’s net, glove save against Alex, Logan’s shot going wide. Logan was pulling back, Finn could feel it. He was trying, trying, and then seeing Leo. And he was going to get so much shit for it. Finn sat down, rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He should have been praying for a win, but he was praying for this game to be over.

O’Hara to Tremblay, back to O’Hara—and he scores!

“Yeah!” Finn said then cursed. “I mean, no.” He groaned. He had to stop doing that. “Fuck.”

Alex O’Hara with a very clean tip-in off of an assist from Tremblay, Knut didn’t have a chance. 2-2 now this is a tight game and the scoring has picked up tremendously. The puck drops Jesus Christ, Lupin again! Christ almighty! Lupin again! Right off the face-off! 3-2 Lions!

“Loops!” Finn stood and laughed through the word. They were ahead now. God, the announcer was rambling, the pile up on the ice must be insane, celebrating. There was a short enough amount of time that this could be it, it could be, especially with the crowd the way it was, God, Finn could hear it, he could see it, even if he couldn’t. The pounding of hands on the glass and his teammates shouting right beside him. The way Thomas and Evgeni jumped up and down, making the bench rattle.

There was three minutes to go. They were ahead, and Logan was trying. God, Finn could feel him. The way he moved, the way he breathed. He’d spent his entire career watching him, waiting for him, tracking him even when he couldn’t see him. Catch a pass, catch a mistake. Finish a goal, pretty or dirty. Alex was trying his best but twice they’d gotten their pocket picked by Sirius and it made Finn hide a smile. No one could play with Logan as well as him.

It didn’t stop him from scoring though. Of course it didn’t.

That is one slick wrap-around by Tremblay.

Finn closed his eyes. He wanted that highlight. He wanted it bad.

Knut didn’t look like he even knew where the puck was.

Finn put his head in his hands. He could hear the celebration. “Le. Aw, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

The Rangers even it up again with forty-six seconds on the clock. Oh, the Lions don’t like that. Arthur Weasley doesn’t like that, but he’s used his timeout. Gryffindor will have to figure something out.

“Come on,” Finn whispered. “Come on, boys…”

It was a blur of phrases and images playing behind his closed eyes.

God, impossible save by Knut! He’s gonna get famous for that poke-check of his, we saw it last play-offs, and look’s like we’ll be seeing more of it—

Finn wanted to be there to scoop the puck up from Leo’s waiting stick, clear of the blue paint. He wanted to feel Leo at his back, defending him, letting him risk a more risky pass.

The clock had to be dangerously low now and Finn’s head ached with how he was squeezing his eyes shut, but he couldn’t help it. He was so tired.

Knocked away by Knut, hard shot by Trouba—

“Good.” Finn whispered, thumb nail between his teeth. “Good, Le…”

What a take away by Black and he’s going—Lupin catches up with him and it’s two on one, Black and Lupin against Luke Deveaux—Black sends it over to Lupin, Lupin back to Black, and a third time—GOAL! Goal! Goal!

Finn shouted. There weren’t any words in it, but a sheer sound of relief and joy.

Lupin with the hat trick! Hat trick! With twelve seconds on the clock! Twelve seconds! Three goals all scored within—Jesus, how long?—that’s insane, that is just magnificent, insane—

Remus heard the crowd. Deep, collective—for a split second, he thought they were booing. But then he pieced it together, right as Sirius slammed into his chest and shouted right in his ear. Not boos.

Loops.

My God, Remus Lupin is on fire tonight. God, what a shot! What a shot, this place is going wild. This place is on its feet because the Lions are going to a game seven. I repeat, the Gryffindor Lions are taking the New York Rangers to a game seven—

Long, drawn out, Loops and then reorganizing into a chant, and then dissolving into cheers. Hats showered them. Completely, it felt like. Raining, pouring, drenching the ice in hats. So many Remus wondered how all of them made it to the ice. He couldn’t stop laughing. He thought maybe he was crying a little.

“Game winner!” Thomas was shouting. “Game fucking winner, fucking winner, fucking natty hatty, oh fuck, Remus!”

“Jesus, what’s in your water, Lupin!” Percy Marshall shouted from near Saint’s goal.

He just looked up at Sirius. Sirius laughed and then ducked down and kissed Remus’ cheek—or tried, but it was really just their visors knocking together. “I love you. I love you, love you, I love you so much—”

“Julian,” Remus said. “You think Jules saw?”

Sirius just pressed their visors together, while Thomas all but crowed to the sky. “Yeah, baby, Jules saw.”

Remus looked up towards the Lions box as he skated towards the bench, as he skated down the line tapping gloves. He couldn’t see much, but he would have been able to pick out that wildly jumping figure any place, any time.

Logan went looking for Cassie. He wouldn’t deny it. He smoothed his wet hair back from his face and tugged at his tie. He smiled shakily at a few members of the press who passed him on their way to the pressroom to write their stories. Post-game interviews had been rough. You guys could have had it, what will you do differently to pull through next game?

It was a fairly normal question. Definitely expected. The hard part, Logan guessed, was answering it truthfully—even to himself. Pulling through meant taking the Lions out, and Logan couldn’t think about that too hard.

But even worse: You seemed to have…bad puck luck when Knut came into goal. What do you think happened?

Logan could have punched the guy who asked that. He’d stared at him hard enough to make him take a step back anyway.

“Tremzy!”

Logan turned fast. Katie, flying towards him full-force, in Rangers blue with TREMBLAY on her back. Pascal had sent him the video—Katie bawling her eyes out and refusing to move until the removed her father’s jersey and gave her a Tremblay one.

Pascal wasn’t too far behind her and grinned as Logan caught Katie up in his arms.

“Salut, Petit. Oh, what are you wearing?” Logan propped her on his hip and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Is that all for me?”

She patted his tie. “You didn’t win. Papa won.”

“C’est une tragédie, apparently,” Pascal said. “We cannot go home until she finds you, you know.”

“Non, me neither.” Logan smiled at him and tilted his and Katie’s heads together. He switched to French. “I need my little cabbage fix before dinner…”

Katie shrieked out a laugh, knowing what was coming, and Logan dipped her upside down to kiss her cheek with nom noises before bringing her upright again.

“Didn’t you like the Lions hat trick? All the hats on the ice.”

Katie shook her head, brandishing the wrist with her charm bracelet at him like a sword. “Non. I like when you get goals.”

“Ouch,” Pascal said wryly.

Katie put a hand on top of Logan’s head. “Is Harzy okay?”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “He’s doing much better. He misses you.”

“Where’s Leo?”

“I’m going to find him right now.”

She squished Logan’s cheeks between her small palms. “Does he have banana bread?”

“Not with him, I don’t think.”

Katie frowned. “Oh.” Then, she promptly squeezed her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Aw,” Logan said. “I love you, too.”

Pascal mouthed, she’s going to fall asleep, and Logan nodded, half-sure that she already was. He put a hand on her back. She was so warm, so delicate in his arms. He used to be afraid of that, holding onto her too hard. “Past your bedtime, hm?”

They stood silently in the hallway together for a moment. Logan thought of the warm living room at the Dumais house. The boys muting their video game on the TV. Katie sleeping against his chest. Noelle passing him embroidery floss colors to pick out so she could make him a bracelet.

“I don’t think I’ll get used to seeing you in blue,” Pascal said softly, stroking back Katie’s hair, then, after a moment of hesitation, mussing Logan’s gently.

“Me neither,” Logan replied roughly. God, how many homes could one person be homesick for at once?

“No matter what happens next game,” Pascal said. “We love you. You know that, right?”

“Ouais.”

“You won’t beat yourself up.”

“Non.” He sighed. “Well, not too bad. I’m worried about Leo.” He sighed. He had to tell someone. “It’s been hard. This, Finn, Kasey…”

“Archer,” Pascal finished hesitantly.

“Logan?” said a voice.

Logan looked to see Cassie at the other end of the hallway. She gave him a small wave, looking uncertain as to whether she should approach or not.

“Ah,” Pascal said. “I thought you knew her.”

“Quoi.” He smiled back at her, held up a finger. One second.

“You looked, ah, how did Sirius put it…Freaked.”

“I’m not.”

“Here,” Pascal said, reaching out for Katie.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Logan began to say, but Pascal just arched a brow.

“You do not need to hold my daughter for every tough conversation you have.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but eased the sleepy Katie into her father’s arms.

“Go talk to a girl. That can’t be too difficult for you.”

“Dumo.”

Pascal just smiled. “Oh, and guess what?”

Logan sighed. His arms felt cold and too light without Katie in them. “What?”

“Leo is going to be okay. You three are going to be fine.”

Pascal touched Logan’s cheek briefly, then turned away, murmuring softly to Katie.

“Remus!”

Remus dropped everything he was holding—his glove, a roll of tape, a tennis ball, and his mouth guard—to turn around and get a stumble-inducing hug by his little brother.

“Did you get any of the hats!” Julian asked. “Oh my God!”

“I think they’re in a bunch of buckets somewhere,” Remus said, and held on tighter even when Jules made to pull back. “No, one more second.”

“I have to see Sirius, too!”

“He didn’t get a hat trick.” Remus squeezed Julian until he gasped for air.

“Death by hug,” Julian coughed out, but he squeezed Remus just as tightly back. “It was so cool, Re.”

“Thanks. It felt pretty cool.” He put his hands on Julian’s shoulders and pulled back. “I can get you a hat if you want a hat. Can’t promise to know whose head it was on, though.”

Julian laughed. “I don’t need a hat.” Remus still sort of wanted to get him a hat. He wanted to get Julian anything he could ever possibly want.

Julian shook Remus lightly by his shoulder pads. “Game seven! Did you always think you were going to go to a game seven!”

Remus shrugged, patting his stall for Julian to sit in. “I don’t know if Captain Superstitious over here would have allowed such a thought to cross my mind.”

“Wow,” Sirius said, stripping off his chest pads and grabbing his towel for a shower. “You make me sound insane.”

Julian and Remus shared a look.

“You might be a little.” Julian pinched his fingers. “Tiny bit insane.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but tussled Julian’s hair before walking away.

“Hey.” Remus nudged his his foot against Julian’s shin. “You okay here for a second if I shower so we can all get some ice cream before it’s after midnight?”

Julian’s eyes lit up—either at the mention of ice cream or at the prospect of being left to his own devices in the locker room.

“Oh, I’ve got him,” Thomas said. He was wearing his suit pants and shrugging on a white button down. “Noelle chose to go see the Rangers so I, too, am abandoned.”

“Oh my God,” Jackson said from beside him. “She said she’d be back in two minutes after seeing her loser brother.”

“Watch it,” Leo called, passing by.

“Two whole minutes.” Thomas tisked. “Nado, I don’t know what to do with myself without that girl around anymore. Copy?”

“Good luck,” Remus said to Julian, and stripped off his own padding to head to the showers.

James was singing—horribly—but Sirius had secured them the two corner showers. Remus’ favorite. The hot water felt good, but Sirius’ gaze on him felt better. Remus smiled as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to wash his hair.

“I can feel you thinking,” Remus said.

“If we were alone, you could feel—”

“Oh I’m sure.”

“Well, I was thinking about taking you into another private corner but your little brother was looking at me.”

Remus reached for the shampoo. “This is true.” He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see him anywhere now.”

Sirius sent a pointed look at James and the few other of their teammates showering around them.

“What?” Remus said with a grin. “I just want a kiss.”

Sirius watched him for a moment, and Remus let himself admire the way the water made his dark hair and eyelashes ever darker. The way the droplets made his tan skin shine. Finally, Sirius went so far as to settle a hand on Remus’ bare, wet hip, and kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered against Remus’ skin.

“I love you, too.”

“The noodles!” Evgeni shouted, ducking beneath a shower head across the room.

“He means canoodle,” Jackson said.

Sirius ignored them. “I want to re-watch that game.”

“Is that all?”

“No. It’ll never be all with you. I’ll always want you more.” Another soft kiss to his temple. “And more, and more.”

“You fucker,” Alex said into his phone, wedged between his shoulder and ear as he tied his dress shoes.

“Ha-ha,” Finn replied. “It was all me.”

“Oh, we’ll get your boys next game.” Alex said.

“Will you now?” Finn said. “You sure about that?”

“Pretty damn sure, I’d say. Lupin can’t be that hot every night.”

“Ha, but Sirius Black can.”

“Bleh.” Alex straighten with a sigh. “I hate how true that is.”

“Hey, Al?”

Alex took his phone, switching ears. “Yup?”

There was a bit of a pause, long enough that Alex looked at the screen to make sure that Finn was still there. It made him nearly miss his first couple words.

“If you can,” Finn’s voice said. “Try not to let Lo take any winning shots against Leo.”

Alex’s smile dimmed. His eyes moved over to Kasey, who was leaning against the wall through the locker room doorway with Natalie, waiting for him. She said something with a smile and he nodded in his soft way, playing with the diamond ring on her finger.

“It’ll hurt them both, I think,” Finn finished softly. “Maybe ask Deveaux, too. If you can.”

“I don’t know if I can help that, Finn,” Alex said.

“I know.” Finn’s sigh crackled like wind. “I know. Yeah, I know.”

“Hey,” Alex said. “But I love you, little Fish.”

There was a beat of silence. “All right, I’ll let that slide just this once.”

Alex smiled.

“Love you, too.”

“Hi,” Cassie said.

Logan’s words got stuck for a second.

She had taken her suit jacket off and her white shirt underneath was crisp and clean. Logan remembered her in low tank-tops and knee-high boots. His Harvard sweatshirts and tiny cotton shorts, stretching in his bed and going to his window to check if it was raining. Yes, he had loved Finn for most of their time together, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t appreciated Cassie. She was kind and fun and, God, had she ever taught him what he liked. She had been a little wild like that. He had a flash of a steamed up car window, her uneven breathing against his cheek, her hand fisting the hair at the back of his neck.

“I…hi.”

She smiled, then shrugged and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi.”

He laughed. “Hi.” She felt the same and he automatically squeezed her waist like he used to. “I—sorry about—I mean on the bench.” They pulled apart. “I was—I wasn’t expecting—”

“No, that’s so on me, I didn’t give you, like, any warning. This is kind of a new promotion for me. I mean, not kind of.” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “It is.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“Well—wow, I have to tell Finn.”

“Oh, Finn. I always adored him.”

“He’s good. Uh and, oh, Will and Percy are here, did you…”

“Saw them on the bench, but haven’t gotten to say hi yet.” She tilted her head, teasing. “Didn’t think I was just waiting for you, did you?”

Logan laughed. “Uh, non, definitely not.”

“But it is really good to see you. Really, really good. Seriously, though, is Finn doing okay? That was really hard footage to watch.”

Try being there. “Yeah. He’s—he’s better. He’s getting better. He might be at the next game in New York, if he gets cleared. Not dressed, but, still. Not having to sit in the dark.”

“Right.” Cassie nodded sympathetically. “God, that happened to him in college, didn’t it?”

Twice. Logan nodded. He didn’t expect her to remember. They’d been broken up by the second.

“Well, then I hope I get to say hi.”

Logan wasn’t sure how to talk about Finn with Cassie. She’d broken up with him over Finn, even though she hadn’t known it was Finn at the time. She’d thought it was another girl, just someone else taking up Logan’s attention. By the conflicted look on her face, it looked like she knew now.

“Um.” Cassie tucked her hair behind her ears then crossed her arms. “Listen. This is probably not the time and definitely not the place but I’m not sure—I kind of just have to say this if you don’t mind.” She glanced down the hallway, but they were alone. “I think I was kind of…I know I was hard on you when we broke up…”

Logan shook his head. He swallowed, trying to force the words out quickly. “Non. Non, I don’t think you were hard on me. If anyone was hard on someone, it was me on you. I mean…now you know that…that Finn and I?”

“Were you together then?” she asked, then her eyes widened. “God. No. Jesus, you don’t have to tell me that. That was so rude, wow. I’m sorry.” She laughed a little. “We don’t see each other for years and—”

“We weren’t,” Logan said, but then it was his turn to laugh a bit. “Well—Merde. I mean. We were… We loved each other then. But we…” How to even say it? “We thought we couldn’t.” No, that wasn’t it. “I thought we couldn’t.”

“You seriously don’t owe me an explanation,” Cassie said. “Logan, I was trying to apologize. The second I heard about you and Finn—I mean, I think I just saw a photo of you two on Twitter or something, or Instagram?—but I remembered our fight like it was yesterday and…”

“You thought I was cheating on you. And in a lot of ways you were right. You had ever right to be mad at me.”

“I…I know that now. But I loved you, and I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things.” She let out a breath. “I didn’t mean them. It’s just that I really, really loved you.”

Logan wouldn’t have said any of his heart still belonged to Cassie, but right then it felt like part of it might, in some way. It broke all over again for the two of them. For the quiet mornings and for looking up into the bleachers at games and seeing her there, wearing his sweater. For all the times she’d gone quiet and let him think about what he wanted to say, when she was always so bright and sudden for everyone else.

“Anyway,” she sighed. “I just didn’t know when I would see you again and, you know, knock on wood you’ll be too busy celebrating next game, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry. And that I’m happy for you. You and Finn.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Logan said. “I didn’t deserve you. I was trying to figure me out and…and I feel like I used you but, for the record, I did love you, too. Maybe not like you loved me, but.”

Cassie smiled. “Yeah?”

Logan smiled back. “Ouais.”

“Oh.” Cassie shook her head fondly. “God, I missed your French.”

Logan was laughing when he heard Leo’s voice from behind him.

“Lo?”

Logan turned and found him standing there, handsome in his navy suit. He looked between them hesitantly.

“Le,” Logan held out a hand to him. “Soleil, this is Cassie. Cas, this is my boyfriend, Leo.”

Cassie smiled, then looked alarmed, then smiled again. “Uh. Wait. Um. I mean, hi.”

“There’s two of them,” Logan said and took Leo’s hand. “Finn. Leo.”

“Two?”

“Two.”

Cassie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged. “Jesus, I can’t even find one. You were so great in the third, Leo, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh,” Leo said, a little dazed. Logan tried not to watch too closely as Leo looked Cassie up and down. “Well, thanks, pleasure to meet you. How do you two…”

Logan squeezed Leo’s fingers. “Cas and I were at school together—we…well, we…”

“Dated,” Cassie finished for him with a grin. “For a little while. But then again, I never got called the sun by this one so who’s counting it really.”

Leo looked down at Logan and Logan was so proud of the happy look in those blue eyes he could have kissed him. “No?”

“Nope,” Cassie said. “But I can see why you do.”

“Casss-ieee,” came Percy’s voice from behind them, and then the thump of him running down the hall. He didn’t even hesitate, not even when it had been years, before scooping her up in a hug. She shrieked, but let him spin her once and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh my God, will you not ever grow up Percy Marshall?”

Percy just grinned at her. His suit was wrinkled, as usual, and he towered over her, but he looked down at her smile like he was looking up to the blue sky. “Not a chance, Cassie Baker. Not with you to impress.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve been subjected to your flirting.”

“Well.” Percy released her and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Who knows. Maybe I really mean it this time.”

Logan felt Leo nudged him, hip against hip, and Logan leaned his head against his shoulder.

“Home?” Leo whispered.

“Ouais.”

Logan thwacked Percy upside the head as they passed by. “See you next game, Cas?”

“Count on it,” Cassie called, and when she wasn’t looking, Percy mouthed Cassie fucking Baker to him over her shoulder with a lovesick expression on his face.

“So, you dated her,” Leo said. He was trying very hard not to smile.

“Oasis,” Logan said. “But…” He reached up as they walked and traced a blond wave of Leo’s hair, then the gray streak. “I was obviously looking for you.”

“You know Hannah looks just like you, right?”

“What? Non.”

Leo laughed. “Logan Tremblay. Look alive, hot stuff—oh.” Leo’s phone pinged. “Gee, wonder who that could be.”

Please come home I talking to myself (sent with Siri)

Also the doctor is emailed I clear for traveled with to you so New York! Sirius send happy emoji no smile emoji no send smile (sent with Siri)

Leo snorted, Logan let out a loud laugh, then they had to take a minute, leaning against each other with silent laughter.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Remus asked as he passed by with Sirius and Julian.

“Sirius,” Logan gasped. “Send smile emoji.”

Leo crouched, hiding his face against Logan’s hip as his shoulders shook.

Sirius just shook his head and tugged on Remus’ hand. “You need to go home.”

“Send smile emoji!” Logan shouted after him.

Sirius just looked back at him. “What the fuck, Tremz.”

“I’ve got him,” Leo laughed, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulder. “C’mon, Harz is talking to himself, we better go save him.”

“He always talks to himself.”

“I don’t think he knows that.”

Leo just hummed in agreement. “She seemed nice.”

“She is,” Logan said.

“This is the girl you mean when you say college girlfriend, right?”

“Mhm,” Logan nodded, and took Leo’s hand again as they walked into the stairwell that led to the parking lot. It smelled like summer. Heat and humidity. Leo stripped off his suit jacket to drive and threw it in the back seat with their bags.

When they were turning the engine on, Logan put a hand over Leo’s. “Le.”

Leo looked up from adjusting his mirrors.

Logan took a breath. He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to talk it all through, but maybe it would get easier. Maybe. And he at least had the short drive home to start. “Want me to tell you about it?” Logan asked softly. “Cassie.”

Leo’s lips parted, surprised. His hair was darker, the ends starting to dry from his own shower. He had taken his tie off, too, and his shirt was open at the neck. Logan reached out and touched the indent of the fleur-de-lis necklace beneath his shirt. It had been passed back and forth between them— Finn had been wearing it for a few days there when he was mostly just sleeping and in pain, but Logan supposed at some point, Finn had slipped it over Leo’s neck again.

“Yeah,” Leo said softly. “I’d like that.”

Logan leaned back in his seat as Leo pulled out of their spot. “I met her my very first night as a Freshman. I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t even have bed sheets. I had met Fish, là, twenty minutes maybe before. I scared the hell out of him in our room. But you know that, anyway, Cassie saved me from sitting by myself all night…”

#vaincre lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #sports au #wolfstar au #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #sirius black #Leo knut #remus lupin #go lions go

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onlyonetifosi · 9 months

Text

Behind the camera -> chapter 3

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

The Leclerc household was buzzing with excitement as Pascale and Hervé eagerly awaited the arrival of their fourth child. Yn and Charles, now three and a half years old, were thrilled at the idea of becoming older siblings. The twins had always been close, and the mere 18 minutes between them had created a unique bond.

Pascale and Hervé sat at a picnic table, sipping on lemonade and watching the children play. Pascale's hands rested gently on her growing belly, and she exchanged a loving look with Hervé. The family knew that their lives were about to change, and they were excited to share the news with the twins and Lorenzo.

"Maman, look how fast I can run!" Yn shouted as she dashed past her mother, her golden curls bouncing with each step.

"And I'm faster!" Charles chimed in, racing after her.

"Mes enfants, we have something special to tell you today" Pascale stated while putting some snacks in the afternoon for Lorenzo and the twins to recover energies after playing all day

“What is it, Maman? Is everything okay?" Lorenzo looked up at his mum from his chair

"Everything is more than okay, mon grand. You are going to have a baby brother!" Hervé looked expectant at his children who were left with a shocked face

"A baby brother? Again?" Lorenzo exclaimed, his eyes widening in excitement. "That's amazing!"

Yn's eyes widened, and she turned to Charles whispering "Tu entends ça? Un petit frère!"

"J'ai hâte" Charles smiled at her and both toddlers let out happy noises

"Will he play with us, Maman?" Charles asked his mum

"Bien sûr bébé. He will be a part of your little team" Pascale beamed at her little angels’ excitement

As the pregnancy progressed, Pascale experienced some cravings. Yn and Charles found it amusing to see their usually composed mother crave pickles with chocolate, or ice cream with hot sauce.

One evening, as they all sat together at the dinner table, Pascale giggled, "Je veux des cornichons et de la crème glacée" (I want pickles and ice cream.)

"Chocolate and pickles? That's funny, Maman!" the little girl said amused at her mum’s choice

"I know, it's quite strange, isn't it?" said Pascale laughing “Mais c'est ce que bébé veut" (But it's what the baby wants) Pascale replied, and they all shared a good laugh.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the due date approached, Pascale faced some difficulties during the delivery. The twins didn't fully understand what was happening, but they sensed their parents' worry.

"Lorenzo, we need you to be a big helper now, okay? Your Maman needs all the support we can give her." Hervé talked to his oldest son one afternoon and Lorenzo nodded, stepping up to the plate, determined to be strong for his family.

Finally, on October 14th 2001, and after a tense few hours, Pascale finally gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The twins were mesmerized as they peeked through the glass window of the hospital nursery two days after the birth when they went to meet their baby brother after being with their grandparents at home.

After the delivery, Hervé and Pascale gazed lovingly at their newborn son and then at each other, their eyes filled with tears of joy. "He's perfect, just like his siblings," Hervé said, his voice choked with emotion.

"Oui, il est parfait. Our little miracle," Pascale added, reaching out to touch Arthur's tiny hand.

A day later, Lorenzo and the twins were allowed to enter the room to meet their baby brother. Yn and Charles were both a little nervous, unsure about how to interact with such a tiny human. Lorenzo, on the other hand, had experienced being an older brother before, and he couldn't wait to hold Arthur.

"Come here, you two," Lorenzo said, patting the bed beside him. "He's tiny, but he won't break, I promise."

Yn and Charles approached the bed cautiously, and with Lorenzo's help, they gently touched Arthur's tiny fingers. "He's so small," Yn observed with awe.

"And he's our little brother," Charles added, smiling.

Over the next few months, the twins adapted to having a baby brother in the house. They loved helping Pascale with diaper changes and singing lullabies to soothe Arthur to sleep. Lorenzo also took his big brother responsibilities seriously, proudly showing Arthur his toy collection and making him laugh with silly faces.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

One sunny afternoon, when Arthur was around seven months old, Yn had a ballet function, and her family decided to accompany her. They watched as Yn gracefully danced on stage, and Arthur's eyes sparkled with joy as he clapped his tiny hands, completely enthralled by his older sister's performance.

The lights dimmed, and Yn gracefully took the stage. Her family watched in awe as she danced, her movements fluid and elegant.

"Regarde, Arthur! C'est Yn, ta grande sœur!" (Look, Arthur! It's Yn, your big sister!) Pascale said, her eyes sparkling with pride and Arthur giggled, seemingly understanding the connection.

"Tu es venu me voir danser, petit frère?” (Did you come to watch me dance, little brother?) Yn ran to her family after her solo and hugged her brother and Arthur squealed in delight as she did so, clapping his tiny hands.

When Yn finished her solo, the audience erupted in applause, and Arthur, sitting in Lorenzo’s lap, couldn't contain his excitement. He kicked his legs and clapped his hands, giggling with delight.

After the performance, Yn ran off the stage and straight into her family's arms. She scooped up baby Arthur, who babbled happily, seemingly recognizing his older sister.

"Maman, papa, did you see me? Did you see Arthur clapping for me?" Yn beamed with pride.

Hervé and Pascale exchanged a knowing look, their hearts filled with joy. "Yes, ma chérie, we saw," Pascale said, gently caressing Arthur's head. "It seems like he's your biggest fan"

Yn smiled at her baby brother's reaction knowing that she had her family's love and support, just as they had supported her throughout her life

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader @celesteblack08

#f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #behind the camera fic #arthur leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f2 imagine #charles leclerc #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader

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berrypockets · 2 months

Text

Voiceless | Shattered Trust

Tommy Shelby x Reader

As Polly, Arthur, John, and Ada stepped out of the office, the heavy door closed behind them, creating a brief cocoon of privacy for the wounded couple.

Tommy, urgency etched on his face, hurriedly began to explain, "Y/N, you have to believe me. Those rumors with Grace, they're not true. She's trying to stir up trouble. It's all lies."

Y/N, with a skeptical glance, scoffed and rolled her eyes, an unmistakable expression of disbelief. She turned away, her silent demeanor screaming a refusal to accept Tommy's words.

Yet, as Y/N started to walk toward the door, a sudden, cutting remark from Tommy triggered her. "You always let your insecurities ruin everything good in your life," he retorted, unknowingly adding fuel to the already blazing fire of Y/N's emotions.

In an instant, Tommy's eyes widened with the realization of his hurtful words. "Wait, Y/N, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. Please forgive me," he pleaded, genuine regret washing over his features.

Without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest object—a delicate, expensive figurine—and flung it at Tommy with a force fueled by frustration and hurt.

Tommy's instincts kicked in, and he narrowly dodged the projectile. "What the fuck, Y/N? You almost killed me," he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and irritation.

The room fell silent once more, the shattered figurine a stark reminder of the fragility of trust. Y/N, her eyes ablaze, faced Tommy with a mix of defiance and wounded pride, leaving the air thick with unresolved tension.

Undeterred, Tommy continued, his desperation palpable. "I swear on everything I have, Y/N. I've been loyal to you. I don't know what's gotten into Grace, but you're the only one for me. I can't imagine my life without you."

Y/N, on the verge of walking away, halted at the sincerity in Tommy's voice. The raw emotion painted across his face began to pierce through her walls of hurt and doubt.

Tommy, sensing an opportunity, approached her cautiously, his words a plea. "Don't go, Y/N. I need you. I don't know how I'll survive without you. I can't lose you over something that's not true. I love you."

Silence hung in the air as Y/N wrestled with conflicting emotions. The room, once filled with tension, now resonated with the desperate plea of a man unwilling to let go.In that vulnerable moment, Y/N turned to face Tommy once more. Her eyes, still clouded with pain, searched his for a trace of sincerity. Tommy, his heart laid bare, awaited her response.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N's stern expression softened, and she nodded, signaling a reluctant acknowledgment of Tommy's words. The room seemed to exhale, the tension gradually dissipating.

As Y/N reached out to wipe away a tear that lingered on her cheek, Tommy gently caught her hand, an unspoken promise to mend what had been broken. They stood there, the weight of their unspoken understanding binding them together, determined to weather the storms that threatened to tear them apart.

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roseghoul26 · 2 months

Text

Part 4

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author’s Note: this part is the smut part, with some story too. i struggled with this chapter cause i’ve only written smut like twice so here we go lmao.

next fic i’m thinking of doing javier or charles (loml), and i have different ideas for both. and i’ll def. write for arthur again, and feel free to send requests or ideas (or literally send whatever i love getting messages)

Taglist: @photo1030

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

And it was a long ride, done in silence as the two of you made it to the meetup place. The cowboy occasionally looked over his shoulder at you, but other than that there was little interaction. There was tension between the two of you that was on the cusp of snapping into a million pieces, but there was nothing you could do about it right now. Mustering what patience you had, and also pushing down your desires, you made your way to Emerald Ranch.

Lenny arrived a short while after you and Arthur, sweaty and anxious, but thankfully alive. And he wasn’t followed, so you thanked the universe that luck was on your side that day.

After meeting up, you’d sold the stolen goods to the fence, and with the combined cash you’d pick up, the three of you had a nice haul of about 750 dollars. After everyone received their cut, there was almost 400 dollars left to donate to camp, which you stuck in the box with a proud smile. Not bad for your first job back, you thought.

Dutch seemed to think so too, complimenting you as you wrote in the ledger. “How we managed to survive those weeks without you, I’ll never know. Thank you, dear.”

You just shrugged. “Don’t mention it. And you can thank Arthur for keepin’ us afloat.”

Dutch didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he lit a match for his cigar, moving so his back was facing his tent as he smoked. Now facing you, you saw him in your peripherals observing you as you finished writing, letting the ink dry before closing the book. Not appreciating his staring, you questioned him with a look.

“Take Arthur to Saint Denis to… look for leads. Yeah, go look for leads.”

“Huh? Right now?”

“That’s what I said, right? I’ve heard that the hotels ‘round there are brimming with opportunities. And take as much time as you need, if you catch my meanin’.” He gave you a wink, but you continued to stare at him like he grew a second head. “You’re smart, dear. You’ll figure it out. Now go, before I change my mind.” He dismissed you with a wave, staring out at the open water as you left.

“Oh… o-okay?” You were halfway to your tent when it dawned on you: Dutch was giving you permission to leave camp for a bit, which was convenient, to say the least. You turned to thank him, but he seemed lost in thought, so you saved it for later. “Make sure Lenny gets sent out too,” you still shouted out, hoping that Dutch heard you.

Entering your tent, you found Arthur already there, which was no surprise. He had practically beelined there after you all arrived at camp, barely giving you a passing look. You hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but when you saw him hunched over as he sat on the edge of the bed, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the cot, you immediately became concerned. Racing through your thoughts, you tried to remember if it seemed like he was in pain earlier. It wouldn’t be unlike him to get injured and then hide it.

Rushing to his side, you were on your knees as you looked at him, scanning his body for any blood or obvious injury. When you found nothing, you looked into his eyes which you found closed. “Love? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” you asked, brushing back some of the hair that had fallen in his face, his hat discarded somewhere nearby. His cheeks were rosy too, you noticed.

When he opened his eyes, you were startled to find how dark they were, and he stared through you. “Shit, did you hit your head?” You moved to stand and examine his head further, but a gentle hand on your shoulder had you sinking back down to your knees.

“I’m alright,” his voice was strained. Arthur didn’t provide any more details, and you heard him let out a huff of air when your hands rested on his knees, your face only a few inches away from them as you peered up at him.

“Then what’s goin’ on, Arthur? You’re scaring me.” He placed one of his hands atop yours, fingers shaking slightly from the strain of gripping the cot. It tickled when he started dancing his fingers across the skin, but you kept your face still as you watched him.

“Oh, princess. You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” His voice was breathy, barely audible to you as his hand stilled. Finally, his eyes focused on yours, growing impossibly wider when he realized the position you were in. “Here,” he extended a palm up, offering you to put your hand in his. When you did, he kissed the back of it gently, before bringing it right above his heart and pressing it to his chest. Even through his shirt, which you had just noticed he had a few more top buttons unbuttoned, you could feel his heartbeat, which was beating like the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

Suddenly things started making a whole lot more sense with the dilated pupils, heavy breathing, and his sporadic heartbeat. Immediately your concern was replaced with something less selfless, a hungry need growing in you as you took in Arthur being in such a state, and all because of you.

“Since last night, I can’t stop thinkin’... and ever since the house it’s gotten worse. I can barely look at you without remembering the way you felt… and you’ve got me so damn turned on I can’t function.” His voice turned into a growl at the end, and you felt yourself pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the growing tension building between them from his confession. God, everything felt warm.

Arthur didn’t miss the movement, as subtle as you tried to be. With a knowing grin, he pressed one last kiss to your hand before setting it back on his knee. “It took everythin’ in me to not take you right there in that house,” he said it so casually that you almost didn’t register what he said. Your grip on his legs tightened, and you found yourself sitting up straighter on your knees, now at chest level with him.

“I would’ve let you,” you confessed, and Arthur moved closer to you, almost touching his lips with yours. Slowly, just like Arthur had done to you, you brought your hands up his thighs. You felt them tense under your touch, and you heard Arthur let out a little noise as your hands traveled up.

And up.

And up until they rested at his belt, and you toyed with the loopholes as he started down at you. You could feel his breathing grow rapid, huffs of warm breath against your face. As you halted, you heard him groan. “You want me to touch you?” It was a redundant question, but you asked anyway.

Arthur swallowed. “Yes.” He tried to press his lips against yours, but you kept your head far enough away. The hands on hips helped him stay put, and you relished in the fact that he could easily break free from your “hold”, but he didn’t.

“Then tell me. Tell me what you’ve been thinking of.”

You saw his blush extend past his face and down his chest. “That… it ain’t proper.”

You chuckled at that. “Since when do we care about what’s proper, Arthur?”

“I suppose we don’t,” he agreed, and he relaxed some. A few moments passed, then he was resting his head against yours. “You want me to tell you, or show you, princess?”

“Why not both?”

“Can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” You pestered, a teasing grin on your face.

“I can’t, cause there ain’t gonna be much talkin’ when my head’s between your thighs.”

Whatever rebuttal you had died instantly in your throat. “Oh,” was all you were able to get out, your mouth growing suddenly dry at Arthur’s boldness, and that tension growing was starting to become unbearable.

“Oh?” He mocked, laughing when you softly slapped him on his leg.

“Shuddup,” you rolled your eyes. Placing your hands back on his thighs, you felt the thick muscles there, built from years of a hard life and survival. “Tell me more,” you asked, moving your fingers closer and closer to the zipper of his jeans, looking down at your task at hand. Your face flushed when you saw the very noticeable bulge between his legs.

“You never answered my question,” you felt rough, calloused fingers under your chin, which gently brought your gaze back up to Arthur’s.

“Show me, Arthur.”

He nodded, a light smile on his lips. “Alright, princess. We’re gonna have to be quiet though.”

The whole reason why you came into the tent came back to you. “Well, maybe we don’t have to be. And I did say I was gettin’ you out of camp, and, well, Dutch has told me to bring you to Saint Denis to ‘search for leads’,” you said, hoping that Arthur got the hidden meaning quicker than you did.

“Did he now?” You nodded. “Well, why didn’t you say so sooner. Don’t wanna waste any time now, do we?”

“In my defense, I thought you were in pain when I walked in. You jerk,” you bopped him again. Arthur just shook his head at you.

Standing up, you supported your shaky legs by holding onto his shoulders. Despite being fully upright, you still held on, not really wanting to stop feeling him. You now stood above him, able to look down at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Bringing your face lower, you kiss the space between his brows, then moving down the arch of nose and planting one on the tip. Then kissing the apples of each cheek in quick succession, you hovered just above his own, and you cupped his face in your hands. Your thumbs rubbed the stubble of his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel between your thighs. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered, but you hoped that soon your questions would be answered.

At last, your lips finally made contact with his. If there was one thing you would never tire of, it would be kissing Arthur. His lips were surprisingly soft, plush yet firm. Even though you had kissed him many times before, each time felt like the first, the overwhelming feeling of him taking over every sense, every nerve in your body buzzing with energy. Eagerly Arthur reciprocated, lips moving against you like they were created to fit with yours perfectly. Before you allowed the two of you to get swept away, kissing his forehead before stepping away.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you grabbed his hat, affixing it atop your head with a wink as Arthur scoffed. “Let’s go to Saint Denis. I’ve heard the hotels there are… lucrative.”

Arthur stood now, rebuttoning up his shirt and attempting to make himself more put together. “I’m sure they are, princess.” He gestured you out of the tent, and the midday air did little to cool you off.

Walking toward your horses, you saw Dutch talking with Lenny, before the older man patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Because Lenny was facing you, you gave him a questioning thumbs up, and he nodded in return. “Have a good night then, Lenny,” you called out.

“You too, miss.” You saw his eyes flick behind you. “Both of you,” he added, before walking to a nearby campfire and plopping down, laughing lightly to himself. Reaching your mount, you patted TT on his neck, and then offered him a sugarcube from the saddle bag. He gladly ate the treat, snorting when he finished.

You went to mount TT, but Arthur calling your name had you halting, only one foot in the stirrup as you turned over your shoulder to look at him. He stood beside his horse, holding the reins in his hands. “Ride with me?” he asked, smiling brightly when you made your way over to him.

When you got close enough, after giving you a quick peck on the cheek he placed his hands on your hips. Easily lifting you on the rump of his horse, you immediately wrapped your arms around him when he mounted. Scooting forward as best you could while sitting sidesaddle, your chest pressed against his back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. His hat was kind of in the way, but you didn’t dare take it off.

After ensuring that you were secure, he began moving, the camp quickly leaving both your visions shortly. He kept his horse at a fast pace, which was nowhere near as fast as you were going earlier, but you didn’t mind. You sighed in contentment, finally able to be alone with Arthur and place any worries about camp behind you, at least for a couple days. No petty squabbles, no jobs, no Pinkertons. Just you and Arthur.

Arthur seemed to feel similarly, based on the way he relaxed in your grasp, leaning back slightly against you. Letting go of the reins in one hand, he rubbed your leg affectionately. His chest tumbled beneath your hands, and you realized he was talking, but you could barely hear him.

When you asked him to repeat himself, Arthur turned his head to the side, making it easier to hear him, but it made you have to lift your own off his shoulder. “I said ‘thank you’.”

“Okay? You’re welcome?” you responded with uncertainty.

“For gettin’ me out of camp like this, and despite how much I wanted to fight it, you knew I needed it.”

“I mean, I wasn’t the one who got you out. You can thank Dutch for that.”

Arthur shook his head. “Sure, only after you presumably said somethin’ to him. And you’ve been the one trying to get me out all day! Don’t downplay yourself like that.” Arthur paused for a moment before continuing. “And you’ve always stuck your neck out for me like that, even before,” he gestured to your arms wrapped around him, “this. You’ve always seen me as more than the camp workhorse, more than a means to an end… more than myself… and I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is I appreciate it. For carin’ about me.” Arthur sighed. “I don’t really know what I’m saying…” he trailed off, refacing forward.

The sincerity in his voice had you heart breaking, but you also felt angry. Not at Arthur, but at the others, for using Arthur until he wore thin. Angry at the world that told him he wasn’t worthy enough to be loved, to be cared for. And you were angry at yourself, for holding off on telling him how much he mattered and meant to you.

Grateful that he had his back to you so that he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes, you clung on tighter to him. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you prayed that Arthur didn’t hear it. “You don’t gotta thank me for that. You deserve more, so much more, but I’ll give you all I have. I love you, Arthur Morgan, and I mean it. I’ll never stop sayin’ it until the day I die.”

Something wet hit your hand, and you realized Arthur was crying. Not sobbing, or making any audible noise; his shoulders didn’t shake either. But a few tears had left his eyes, one of them hitting you as they fell. “Arthur?” You asked, concerned.

Arthur, who clearly wasn’t expecting you to see his tears, quickly wiped them away, his hand no longer resting on your leg. “I… shit. Sorry.” You could tell he was embarrassed, trying to gloss over his emotions.

“I didn’t mean-”

“You ain’t done anything wrong,” Arthur reassured. “It’s just… I never thought I’d feel this way again, not after… not after Mary. I thought this part of me died a long time ago, and I just accepted that. I thought I’d never be loved again.” He chuckled humorlessly. “A part of me can’t believe this all ain’t a dream. I’ve wanted it so long that it seemed unobtainable.”

You knew about Mary, from the bits and pieces you learned from Hosea and Dutch. Arthur had never spoken about her with you, and you never asked, not wanting to push that boundary. Shamefully, you expected to feel some tinge of jealousy at the mention of his ex-lover, but you didn’t. You felt angry at her, for the way she broke his heart, and made him believe that he was unlovable. And strangely enough, you felt the tiniest bit of gratitude, but you weren’t quite sure who it was towards. All you could say is that you were thankful that you were now entrusted with Arthur’s heart, and you were going to cherish it.

“Well,” you returned your head on his shoulder, “you’re very much awake, and I hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me now.”

“Thank God,” he responded. You couldn’t tell which part he was thankful for.

Glancing around, you saw the outskirts of the town or Rhodes behind you, and the fence marking off the Gray’s property ahead of you, meaning you and Arthur were well on your way to Saint Denis. Another ten or so minutes of riding would get you there. Arthur had returned his grip on your thigh, and you settled in for the remainder of the ride.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You weren’t a fan of Saint Denis, with the polluted air and dirty streets, and the equally filthy people. Although it was deemed to be the pinnacle of modern civilization, you had to disagree. What “great” city like this would leave parts of their population unhoused, unfed, uncared for. Or elect snakes in positions of power instead of people, whose only interest in mind was their own. Or how the joy of living seemed to be sucked out of the people, and how they’re now only soulless husks whose only purpose was to work and sleep.

You voiced your thoughts to Arthur as you rode in, the metal archway proudly reading Saint Denis disappearing behind you. Passing by a group of well dressed individuals, Arthur nodded in agreement.

“And to think, they wanna make everywhere like this.”

Arthur didn’t respond, just continuing to lead his horse though the streets. The sounds on hooves on the cobblestone was quite loud, but it was still barely audible over the sound of machinery and engines. People stared at you two as you passed, and their eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary. It occurred to you that you probably looked quite out of place because of the way you were dressed.

You wore skirts and dresses from time to time, and you liked wearing them, but they weren’t the practical option for days like today, where you’d need to quickly get on and off your horse, and would have to move quickly and silently. But every scrutinizing glance from well-dressed strangers had you regretting your choice of apparel. You told yourself that you shouldn’t care what these people thought of you, but the innate human desire to fit in and be accepted was overwhelming, especially now.

“You’d think I’d grown a third arm, the way people are lookin’ at me,” you joked.

“Don’t let ‘em get to you,” Arthur sent a deadly glare to one said person, whose face turned ghostly white as he scampered away.

Chuckling, you kissed Arthur on his cheek. “My knight in shining armor,” you swooned, earning an eye roll from the cowboy.

“Not like you need one.”

“Maybe not. But if my knight was you, I wouldn’t say no.”

He chuckled lightly. “What’s so funny?” you questioned, laughing slightly yourself.

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all, princess.”

Turning the corner, you were met with with a rather crowded street with buildings towering over you. But directly ahead of you stood your destination, a large hotel that spanned three floors and the name of the establishment sprawled across the front in a language you didn’t recognize.

As Arthur made his way to one of the many hitching posts in front, you felt your heartbeat begin to accelerate as you remembered why you were here. Anticipation had your body on edge, almost tense in the way you held on to him.

You were always impressed at the way Arthur seemed to notice every small detail, but right now you found yourself cursing that ability. He took note of the way your body went rigid, and he reassuringly squeezed your thigh. “You good?” You knew that he wasn’t just talking about right now; he was asking if you were still comfortable continuing what had started last night.

“Yeah,” your voice was breathier than you would’ve liked. “I’m just… excited.” Sure, you were nervous as well, but it was easily alleviated by the trust you had in the man.

“Good,” he smiled. Bringing his horse to the post, he quickly dismounted, securing his mount with a loose knot. Next, his hands met your waist as he helped you off. Your legs were slightly numb from the way you were sitting, but you stayed steady as your feet made contact with the ground.

After double checking that his horse was secure, and had plenty of food and water nearby, he held out his hand, pulling you along when you took it. He held the door open for you, and the joke you were about to make fell short as you took in the interior of the hotel.

Large, swooping archways cascaded above your head, the large vaulted ceilings filled with paintings and statues that observed you as you walked in, your hand still linked with his. It reminded you of something you'd heard about a while back, some chapel in Italy with painted ceilings like this. The walls were stark white, and no less decorated, paintings with golden frames facing you, and the marble floor beneath you clacked as your boots made contact. An ornate chandelier lit the room, located directly in the center of the entrance area. Its jewels glinted in the light, reflecting tiny rainbows across the walls.

It was breathtaking, to say the least. Eyes wide, you let yourself be pulled by Arthur as you took it all in. “Maybe it ain’t so bad they’re tryin’ to make cities like this, if this is what it turns into.” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s beautiful.”

Arthur seemed less impressed than you, eyes barely glancing over the various art pieces adorning the walls and ceiling. “Don’t go changin’ your mind now. This,” he waved his free hand around, “is how they get ya. This is all just a front.”

“You’re no fun,” you chidded, and your vision was suddenly obscured as Arthur flicked the hat down on your head. A very improper squawk left you as you quickly fixed the hat, glaring up at him with no real heat.

“I’m plenty fun, princess.” By this point, you’d reached the front desk, where a very impatient looking man stood. As Arthur ordered a room, you continued to peer around, not paying much mind to the conversation. We weren’t only distracted by the art now, but your mind began to wander to the events that were sure to transpire shortly. You shamelessly ogled his body, now realizing he left his usual jacket back at camp, only down to his undershirt now. His well built shoulders caused the fabric to be pulled taught against his body, leaving little to the imagination. How would they feel under your touch? Would you grip on to them tight as he took you, letting you leave scratches down his back? Would they spread your legs apart as he-

Your thoughts were broken when you felt a tug at your arm, and you glanced at Arthur who regarded you with an amused glance. Based on the way he was grinning at you, you knew he knew where your mind had gone. “Bath?” He asked, and your mouth felt dry as you tried to respond.

“After.” The clerk couldn’t have done a worse job hiding his disdain, but you ignored him. Arthur took the room key from him, not even thanking him before heading up the staircase behind the front desk.

It felt like forever, the walk to the room. You’ve had your share of encounters in the bedroom, but it had never felt like this. It never felt this right.

It seemed like hours went by before Arthur was unlocking one of the rooms, letting go of your hand for the first time to get it open. Like the gentleman he was, he held the door open for you again.

The rooms were no less decorated, but once the original splendor wore off, you found yourself caring less and less. A large four poster canopy bed sat in the center of the large room, a plush fur carpet beneath it. The room was well lit, with a balcony on the right side that was allowing copious amounts of sunlight into the room. The window for the balcony was left open, and you found yourself quickly closing it, the curtains settling as the wind was cut off. A basin with water along with a few towels and rags occupied the leftmost side of the wall with the balcony, with a wooden dresser neighboring it.

Now in the room, you took off your boots and socks, not wanting to track too much dirt across the carpet. Leaving them near the wardrobe, you made your way to the bed. The fur, which had to be some kind of large white bear, felt pleasant against your bare feet as you approached. The sheets felt even better than the carpet, rich silks flowing through your fingers like water.

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, you dragged your hand across, and you made your way up one of the wood posts, the material sturdy and well polished. You wondered how much a room like this cost to rent for a night or two. Turning to ask Arthur, you found him at one of the nightstands that framed the bed, unholstering his gunbelt and placing it there, as well as taking off his own boots.

When he felt your attention on him, he smiled warmly, leaning up against the post you were examining after reaching you. He had his hands on his hips, about where he would rest his hands if his gunbelt were there, looking at you with such fondness that you completely forgot the question you were going to ask. Staring up at him, any rational thought went out the window to your right; the only thing on your mind was him. He must’ve seen this change in your demeanor, pushing off the post and stopping now right in front of you.

“Show me, Arthur.” It came out less like a request and more like a demand.

Arthur chuckled, a low yes ma’am leaving him before his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft like you were expecting. The force in which he kissed you had you nearly landing flat on your back, but you caught yourself with one arm, the other finding purchase on the side of his face as you cupped it. Kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, he leaned over you now, but the angle he was doing it was not the most comfortable, relying on only his core muscles to keep him upright and not crush you.

Breaking away, you took a gulp of air, laughing at the way Arthur chased after you, like he couldn’t bear to be without you for only a few seconds. Scooching back on the bed until your back was resting against the multitude of pillows available, you opened your arms up. Crawling up after you, Arthur sighed, content, when your touch returned, still holding him in one of your palms.

Wasting no time, he fervently resumed his kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip gently. His hands tangled into your hair, his hat falling somewhere on the bed, but you were too engrossed to care. One of his knees slotted between your legs, the other resting by your hip. As the tension in you returned, you found yourself inadvertently grinding against his thigh, trying to find some sort of relief. Arthur groaned when he felt you begin to use him, his mouth going slack against yours.

Moving from your mouth to your jaw, he pressed open mouth kisses as he went along. When you tried to move your head to follow him, you felt his grip in your hair tighten. Not enough to cause any pain, but it kept you still as he continued his exploration. You weren't able to do much but sit there, hips grinding against Arthur, but it wasn’t doing anything except get you more and more heated.

You expected to feel him start to leave hickies across your neck, especially when his mouth started trailing down your throat. But he didn’t, rather he was gentle with the soft skin, leaving no physical evidence that he was there. Before you could even comprehend what you were asking for, you were speaking, combing your fingers through Arthur’s hair like it was going to help convince him. “You can mark me, Arthur. Please. Let everyone know I’m taken.”

Your whispered pleas were not met on deaf ears, an almost painful sounding moan leaving the man as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath tickled your ear as he panted, his hands releasing your hair as they framed each side of your head. You thought he was going to turn the idea down, but you were elated when you felt his lips return to your neck, now sucking and biting as well.

“Anythin’ for you, princess.” He sounded positively wrecked. Traveling down the column of your neck, you felt him leave marks, marks that you were certain were going to be dark purple by tonight.

“Fuck, yeah, you’re so good to me. My pretty boy,” You cooed, nails scratching his scalp lightly. “Everyone back at camp is gonna see these marks; they’re gonna know what you did to me. They’re gonna know you fucked me so good.”

Arthur sat back on his heels, hair in disarray from your fingers. The sunlight filtering in caused the strands to become golden, like the color of the frames you saw downstairs. He looked almost heavenly in this light, the way the sun illuminated him. God, he looked beautiful. His blue eyes were nearly black with lust, and the normally stoic man seemed to be falling apart. “You- you can’t keep sayin’ things like that… then sayin’ I’m beautiful,” he murmured, running a hand down his face.

So your thoughts weren’t as secret as you believed. “Why not?” You questioned, a teasing smirk on your face. “I’m only tellin’ the truth.”

“Truth or not, if you keep goin’ on like that, I’m ‘fraid this night’s gonna end quicker than either of us would like.” Glancing downward, you saw Arthur readjust himself. The bulge in his pants looked uncomfortable, painfully even. With a sympathetic noise, you reached for the zipper on his pants, ready to alleviate him.

You were surprised when he stopped your hand, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. “Next time. I… I need to taste you, princess.”

“Is that what you were thinkin’ about earlier?” You tried to sound unbothered, knowing damn well that you were practically throbbing at the idea of him going down on you. The desperation in his voice added fuel to the fire in you, finding yourself growing increasingly wetter at each thing coming from his mouth.

“One of many things,” he confessed. “Is that a yes?”

“Arthur, if you don’t get your ass-” your comment was cut short by his mouth on yours. It didn’t last long, before he was returning to where he left off on your neck. This time, however, you felt his hands work at your belt, throwing it somewhere behind him when he got it unlooped from your pants, which were next to go. It took a little bit longer, but eventually they were tossed behind as well, leaving you in only your undergarments from the waist down.

You went to start unbuttoning the shirt you wore, but Arthur beat you to it, his dexterous fingers quickly undoing the buttons. He rested his head against yours, eyes looking down as we worked, grumbling obscenities when one of the buttons was stubborn. Eventually it was off as well, the shirt and the bandana adding to the growing pile on the floor. “I thought you liked me in your clothes,” you teased.

“I think I like you better without any. Now,” he nudged your arms, “up.” You complied, lifting them to allow Arthur to slip your chemise up and off your body, and, like the other articles, found a new home on the floor of the hotel. The cold air on your bare chest caused you to gasp, goosebumps erupting across your skin. All of that was forgotten when you saw Arthur, the heat in his gaze easily melting the chill of the air.

He sat back on his heels again, taking in your almost entirely exposed body, the only remaining thing on your body being your drawers. Letting out an appreciative noise that sounded almost like a purr, he rested his hands on your hips, squeezing lightly at the flesh there. Bringing his hands up, more and more goosebumps formed following his path, like your body was mapping out the way he touched you.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, princess. Even more so than I imagined.”

“You imagine me naked a lot, Arthur?”

He was right below your breasts now, running his fingers right below where you wanted him to touch. “You already know the answer to that.”

“For how long?”

Arthur stilled at this, a flash of panic cutting through his lustful eyes for a split second. “You want the truth, or a lie that would make me less of a creep?”

Well, now you were curious. Raising a brow, the man on his knees in front of you gave out an exasperated sigh, no longer looking you in the eye as he responded. “Roughly two years ago. I…” he trailed off, moving to rub the back of his neck, but you caught his hand in yours, forcing his eyes back on you.

You laughed, mostly at Arthur’s expense, but also at how long you firmly believed that your attraction was one-sided. “You silly cowboy,” you urged him back by tugging his arm, and he rested on his forearms, caging you in. “I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been doin’ the same.”

He hovered a few inches above you, and you could feel the heat emanating from his body. “I’ll have to see that sometime,” he spoke low in your ear. “You spread open, touchin’ yourself to the thought of me.” He paused for a second. “But that’ll have to wait. You,” he tugged at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, “keep distracting me. Let me get back to work.”

Sitting back up, he returned his hands to your body, still keeping away from where you wanted, just taking you in with his eyes. When you tried to push your chest up into his hands, he gave you a disapproving frown before pushing you back down. “No one ever teach ya patience, princess?” The absence of his body heat caused you to shiver, your nipples pebbling from the cold and arousal.

His hands brushed over the scars across your body, his touch lingering on the one on your left shoulder, the one the O’Driscolls gave you over a month ago. You didn’t have time to feel self conscious before his lips were pressing light kisses on top of it, murmuring soft words under his breath. Finally, you felt his hands cup your breasts, kneading the mounds in his hands, his mouth leaving marks as it joined his hands in his touch. His hands did feel even better without a shirt blocking them, the callous of his fingers deliciously rough against the soft skin

He didn’t stay there long, his own patience being worn thin. He moved down your body now, pepper kisses across the various marks on your body. His fingers pulled at the strings of your drawers, quickly unlacing the bow there. Lifting up your hips to help him, he pulled them off, and they joined the pile. Finally, you were completely bare to him, and you heard him groan appreciatively. Trailing his mouth down your body, he halted just below your belly button, his hands resting on your thighs.

He looked up, and his smirk was downright sinful as he lifted one of your legs across his shoulder, further exposing yourself to him. One hand held your hip, the other lying unused by his side. Your hands clutched uselessly at the pillows supporting you, gripping even harder when you felt him part your folds with fingers. His eyes were fully locked onto your cunt now, letting out a whistle when he saw how obviously wet you were. “This all for me, princess?” he asked, peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs.

“Just for you. It’s only ever you.” You panted.

You felt him smile. “Good.” He removed his hand, and you almost let out a small whine at the loss of contact. You were quickly silenced when you felt those same fingers sweep through you, gathering your arousal on them. The digits were soaked, but you had little time to feel embarrassed before he was running his tongue up them, tasting you. You let out a noise, somewhere between his name and a moan as Arthur cleaned his fingers, his eyes closed as he savored the taste.

“Gonna get me addicted, princess,” he groaned, his fingers leaving his mouth and resting on the inside of your thigh, keeping your legs propped open. “But I bet ya taste better right from the source.” You felt him place one last kiss on your thigh before his mouth was on your cunt, his tongue following the same path as his fingers through you. Going bottom to top, it was a broad sweep of his tongue, not targeting anything specific but you still felt your hips buck against his face when he grazed your clit.

The hand on your hip moved, resting across your lap to keep you still as he passed his tongue through again, and again. “Easy, girl,” he rumbled, and you would’ve been offended that he was talking to you like a horse if he wasn’t currently buried between your legs. Instead, you threw your head back, the soft feather pillows preventing you from smacking the headboard. Your grip moved from said pillows, moving to burrow into Arthur’s hair. Your fingers went to weave between the strands, but you second-guessed your decision, especially when he started focusing his tongue on your clit.

You tried to retract your hand, but Arthur caught it no longer holding your legs open. He brought it back to his head, and you gripped on to his hair. Arthur let out a pleased groan at that, and it seemed to spur him on more, lapping at you like he was dying of thirst. Every flick of his tongue sent jolts through your body, cries and whimpers of his name leaving your lips every time. You knew he had a silver tongue, but you never expected to be falling apart on it.

Because he was no longer holding you open, your thighs closed around his head with both legs on his shoulders, but you were too lost in your pleasure to notice. Now you were able to feel his beard against the sensitive skin, feeling better than you’d imagined. It would probably be chaffed and irritated in the morning, but every time you felt it you’d remember the way Arthur was devouring you.

You were so caught up on that new sensation that you hadn’t noticed the newly freed hand move between your legs, a gasp leaving your lips when you felt him pressed against your entrance. He stopped at your reaction, but he continued to use his mouth, the tension in you growing and growing at each flick.

When you provided no protest, he continued, slowly pressing his finger into you. It didn’t take much effort, your arousal helping to ease the digit in with little resistance, and within moments he was knuckle-deep. He was big, far bigger than your fingers, and you let out a small noise at the stretch. “You’re doing so good,” Arthur praised, his finger not moving to let you adjust. “My good girl.” His words were muffled, tongue still pleasuring you between words, but you heard them loud and clear.

You weren’t quite sure why that got a reaction out of you, but a very audible moan left you, and you clenched around Arthur’s finger, pulling even harder at his hair. He let out a surprised groan that turned into a chuckle as he felt you, and you could hear him smirk. “You taste so good, and you’re so tight,” He bent the digit inside you, almost in a beckoning motion, which caused you to see stars. “My good girl’s gonna cum for me, right? Let me feel you, princess.”

You were close, that was certain. That tension, the one deep inside you that had been begging to be released since what seemed like forever, was about to break. You just needed one more push.

He started slowly pistoning the finger in and out of you, at least as best he could with your thighs in the way. Before long, he was adding a second finger, the additional stretch just about making you finish right there. You tried to convey that to Arthur, but it was coming out as an incoherent ramble. “Arthur… I- I’m… please…”

“I know, princess.” He kept at the same pace, drawing your pleasure out of you. The thing that broke you was seeing Arthur rocking his hips against the bed as he laid on his stomach, trying to find some relief. With a loud wail of his name, you came, trying and failing to thrust against his face as he pinned you down, fingers flexing against your hip bone. It felt like every nerve in your body was alive, buzzing with energy as pleasure wracked your body, and your eyes shut on instinct, which seemed to heighten the sensations you were feeling. Arthur removed his fingers from you, but he kept his tongue moving, obscene noises leaving him as he worked you through your orgasm.

Boneless, your thighs went lax against his head, hands slumping to the sides of the bed, releasing the man from your death grip. But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, still drinking you in. But you were starting to feel overstimulated, and you let out a small noise of complaint, which got Arthur to stop. He tried to hide a proud smile as he came back up, but you saw the corners of his mouth were raised slightly as he lay on his side next to you, letting you take a moment to recuperate.

You took a few moments to just breathe, regaining control over your body and heart rate. Turning your head to face him, you slowly opened your eyes, and you nearly immediately shut them when you saw your arousal absolutely soaking his face. “I-,” if you weren’t flushed before, you sure were now.

Now Arthur was grinning, realizing what you were looking at. He wiped his mouth like he just finished a delicious meal. “I could do that all day.” He brushed his fingers across your body, not demanding anything, but just feeling you. “You doin’ alright?”

You scoffed. “You’re askin’ me that? I nearly killed you with my thighs!”

“I told you I don’t mind if it hurts. And it’d’ve been a hell of a way to die,” he joked, and you slapped him lightly on the chest, which, much to your disappointment, was still covered with a shirt. You noticed, as your gaze went south, that he was still fully clothed, and you found yourself frowning at that.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, confusion and worry now etched on his face, and he began to retract his hand slowly.

“You’re wearin’ too many clothes,” you whined, tugging at Arthur’s shirt.

He sighed in relief. “Whatever my good girl wants,” he chuckled, even more so when your breathing hitched. He got up, standing right next to the side of the bed. He slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, and you sat on your heels in front of him, waiting.

When you deemed that he was taking too long, you started untucking his shirt, working the buttons at the bottom. “Impatient?”

“I’ve waited two fuckin’ years, Arthur.” You hadn’t meant to sound angry, but your patience was truly wearing thin. You didn’t feel too bad when he started unbuttoning faster, the article off before you realized, joining the pile beside him. His pants were off shortly thereafter, the belt still in them hitting the ground with a clang, and he kicked them off his feet.

You moved back to let Arthur get back in the bed, and he sat where you were minutes prior, back against the pillows and headboard. Straddling his waist, your hands immediately started roaming the newly exposed skin, his muscles twitching under your touch. He truly was beautiful, almost aggravatingly so. He was well built, strong muscles protected by a healthy layer of fat that made him even bigger.

Various scars and marks littered his body, all proof of surviving a hard life; you kissed each one you saw. Your fingers ran across his abs, the muscles tensing as you went along. You were surprised to find that his entire body was covered in hair, not just his arms and legs, but you definitely weren’t complaining, the pure masculinity from it all the more attractive.

Speaking of masculinity, an experimental roll of your hips against Arthur’s had the man groaning, head rolling back slightly. But it also let you know that he wasn’t just well built, but well endowed. Quite endowed, if you were being honest.

After giving him a quick kiss, you moved back until you were more on his knees, and you tugged at the waistband of his undergarments. Like you, he lifted his hips up, and you quickly discarded it behind you.

One look and you knew you were in for a long night. He was long, yes, but thick as well, able to stretch you out in all the right places. You tried to wrap your hand around the base of him, your fingers nowhere close to reaching each other. Slowly, you began to pump him, and he let out a strangled moan. His tip was red and leaking, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick it. And you tried to, at least, but he redirected you with his fingers around your jaw, bringing his lips crashing against yours.

The kiss was filthy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owned it. The fingers on your jaw kept your mouth open, a moan leaving you when you tasted yourself on him. He pulled back, eyes shutting when you continued to move your hand up and down his length. He stilled you by grabbing your wrist, pulling you back up so that you were straddling his waist again.

“Y’feel amazin’, princess, I just wanna last.” He let go of you, settling his hands on your waist instead. “You ready?”

“Please, Arthur.” One hand gripped his bicep, the other on his shoulder. “I need you.”

“And you’ll have me. Just don’t wanna see you hurt.” You felt his hand creep up your front, hovering just in front of your face, and his pointer and middle fingers brushed your bottom lip. “Suck,” he instructed, digits pressing gently against the seam of your lips. You parted your lips, enthusiastically taking them into your mouth, running your tongue alongside the bottom of them. Your eyes never left his, and you felt him twitch beneath you as you bobbed your head up and down. “Atta girl,” he praised, “get ‘em nice and wet for me.”

You’re sure you were soaking his lap at this point, but you didn’t care. Working your tongue along the knuckles, his hand quickly became covered in your drool. With a pop, his fingers left your mouth, leaving you panting around nothing. You watched, transfixed, as Arthur brought his hand to his cock, slowly stroking himself as he coated his length. He let out a soft gasp, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and the delicious noise had you clenching around nothing.

After a few passes, he stilled at the base, holding himself upright. Urging you to get up on your knees, you scooted until you were just hovering above him. His tip nudged your entrance, and you both let out similar moans as you slowly sunk down on his length. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his bicep, most likely leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“That’s it. Nice and slow now…” he spoke, voice strained and clipped. The hand on your waist was vice-like, Arthur using every ounce of restraint in his body to not just sink you down on to him.

Even though Arthur had done some prep with his fingers, and your mixed arousal and spit helped to ease things along, the stretch still burned. You rocked up and down, slowly taking more and more of him in you. Small noises left your lips as you worked yourself down, feeling every ridge of him in you, and your face buried into his neck. “Relax,” Arthur murmured, the hand on your hip rubbing reassuringly on your back. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Arthur…” you moaned, your legs beginning to shake at the exertion.

“I know, princess. You’re doin’ so well. Just a lil’ bit more.” He kissed the top of your head, which would’ve been more wholesome outside the current circumstance.

It took a little bit of you moving up and down him, working yourself open until you were able to take him completely. Eventually, your hips were flush with his, and your head rolling back as you finally felt him fully sheathed in you. You’d never felt so full before, his cock reaching places you’d hadn’t realized existed.

When you leaned back, it puffed your chest in his face, and his mouth was on you in seconds, lapping and sucking and kneading at the soft flesh there. “Oh, Arthur.” Your hands were in his hair, keeping him close as he lavished your breasts. “You feel so good.”

Not stopping for a second, you heard him something, and the tone was almost proud, but it was hard to tell over the blood rushing in your ears. As you let yourself get used to him, rocking up and down him slowly, you moved your head to the side to let him bring his mouth up your neck, and you saw something brown out of the corner of your eyes. Turning even further, you saw Arthur’s hat a few feet behind you, and a wicked idea crossed your mind.

It took a bit of reaching to get the hat, causing you to pull yourself away from Arthur’s mouth. He let out a noise of complaint, hands trying to bring you back until he realized what you were reaching for. “Princess…” his usually gravelly voice was even more so, the word barely audible through his clenched teeth.

“What?” You flashed him an innocent smile. Clutching his hat in your hand, you slowly rode him, sinking up and down his cock. You tried to seem unaffected, but you couldn’t stop the whimper that you let out.

You secured it on your head, clenching around him when you heard the almost predatory growl that left him. He was losing the battle with his restraint, and you wanted nothing more than to see him succumb to his desire. Running your fingers though the hair on his pecs, you brought your lips close to his, only a hair’s width away from connecting. “Princess.” It was more of a warning than anything, and you felt him let out a huff of air.

“What’s the matter?” You teased.

“Nothin’,” you watched his eyes flick down to your entrance, watching his cock disappear into you. You would’ve believed that he was content with you just using him for your pleasure, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, but you’d seen the look in his eye when you put his hat on, and felt the way his fingers tightened on you as he fought to not to just take you as he pleased.

You wanted to see him lose the control he fought so hard to maintain.

“Really? Cause you seem tense, cowboy. Like you’re holdin’ back.” You smiled gently, rubbing his chest reassuringly.

“Dunno what you mean,” he tried to play dumb, looking away from you as he spoke.

You brought his gaze back to yours, caressing the side of his face as you did so. “I don’t want you to.”

It took a few moments for Arthur to respond, eyes not leaving yours as you continued to ride him. “Are you sure, princess? I…” he exhaled shakily, “It might hurt-”

“I know what I want, Arthur. You’re not the only one who likes it a little rough.” You brushed your lips over his, and you could tell he was still fighting himself. “I wanna feel you for days after this, Arthur. I wanna be able to feel you whenever I walk, every ache I feel remindin’ me of when you absolutely ruined me. I need you to ruin me, Arthur. Please, fuck me-”

Your rambling was cut short when he smashed his lips against yours, muffling your noises as he effortlessly lifted you off his cock before slamming you back down. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping up as he fucked up into you. The kiss didn’t last long, your head rolling back again, hat barely staying on your head as he took you as he pleased.

The sound of your collective moans filled the air, the sound of skin-on-skin muffled by your voice. “Yes, Arthur!” you cried out, and you felt yourself working up to another climax, already worked up from riding him previously. You tried to praise him some more, but you words came out garbled and incoherent, too overwhelmed with what he was doing to be able to develop a sentence.

“What’s that, princess?” you could hear him smirk.

You tried to respond, but all you could let out was a loud moan. You were just happy you weren’t back at camp, or else you’d never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again.

You heard him moan out your name. “You feel so good, you know that?” He panted. “Like you were made for me to ruin.”

You let out another cry of his name, growing closer and closer to your release. “That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking this pretty cunt so well.”

In the back of your mind, you knew that Arthur was going to be embarrassed as hell afterwards, saying stuff like this. But the filthy words coming from his lips had you gasping, a jolt of arousal shooting through your body. You said his name like a mantra, spurring him on even more. “Arthur, I’m- I’m so close,” you moaned.

“Fuck, me too, princess,” he didn’t slow down his pace, and you felt him bring his fingers to your clit, caressing the bundle of nerves. “C’mon then, cum for me.”

The added stimulation from his fingers, plus the sharp drag of his cock across your walls was enough to make you cum, his hat finally falling off as your head was thrown back in pleasure. This one was much more intense than the the last one, and you swore you blacked out for a second.

You probably did blackout, because you hadn’t realized you were on your back until a few moments later, Arthur’s hips snapping into you as he chased his own release. He pulled out suddenly, and you felt yourself pulse around nothing, feeling empty at the lack of him. Arthur was on his knees above you, pumping himself quickly as he came all over your chest, hot ropes of cum hitting your stomach and breasts.

He sagged forward once he finished, hands on either side of your body as he laid there catching his breath, being mindful to not crush you. You ran your nails along his scalp, the man shuddering under your touch. A few moments passed, both of you just basking in the afterglow of your release. The room wasn’t cold anymore, the heat generated from the both of you causing a sheen of sweat to cover your bodies. A bath definitely sounded good right now, but you didn’t want to get up, body pleasantly sore and exhausted.

You felt Arthur sit back up, getting off the bed entirely. You watched him grab one of the rags from the water basin, pouring a bit of water on it before returning to you. You let out a small hiss as the cold water made contact with your skin, Arthur apologizing as he cleaned you up. His touch was light, reverent, his eyes filled with an emotion you weren’t able to place as he wiped down your body. As Arthur walked away, wiping down himself as well, you situated yourself under the covers, the silk feeling wonderful against your skin as you nuzzled into the pillows.

Arthur joined you shortly, the bed shifting under his weight as he joined you under the covers. You watched him open his arms for you, and you gladly let yourself be wrapped up in them, your chests pressed together, and you felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You alright?”

Smiling, you looked up at him. “I’m amazin’,” your voice was scratchy. “Just sore. And don’t you dare apologize,” you glared at him when he opened his mouth to do just that.

“We can get you a bath later, if you’d like.”

“As long as you join me.”

You felt Arthur chuckle, his chest rumbling against yours, kissing you now on the forehead. “Whatever you want.”

Sighing contentedly, you stared at Arthur, who had now closed his eyes, his tiredness now making itself known. You were too busy scanning his features that you hadn’t noticed him cracking an eye open, raising a brow quizzically at you. “What?”

“You’re very beautiful, Arthur.”

You watched him stammer for a second, the bright red flush returning to his face from minutes prior. “It’d be pointless to disagree with you, wouldn’t it, princess?”

“Yup,” you giggled. The two of you sat in comfortable silence after that, until a question you’d been meaning for a while came back to you at that moment. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Call ya what?”

“Princess. I thought we already established that I ain’t one.”

“You want me to stop?”

You shook your head. “You better not. I like it. I’m just curious why you use it.”

“To be completely honest, I ain’t quite sure why either,” he chuckled. “It started as a bit of a joke, before we became serious. But I liked the way you reacted to it, so I kept callin’ you it just to see your reaction. I kept sayin’ it after because you deserve to be called somethin’ unique, somethin’ that’s special to us.”

“Earlier, you said I was something’ better than a princess. What’s that?”

“It’s cheesy,” he tried to avoid the question, but you gave him a pointed look. Sighing, he relented. “You’re, well, you. You’re an outlaw, a gunslinger, a survivor. You’re a confidant, a friend, a leader. You’re my girl, my angel, the best thing that has ever happened to me. All things that are infinitely better than some royal title.” He shrugged. “And sure, maybe you ain’t a princess, but you deserve to be treated like one. I guess callin’ you that, it’s a constant reminder for me to treat you like the incredible person you are, and to not take your love for granted.”

You held back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “You’re oddly poetic at times.”

“I told ya it was cheesy,” he grumbled, the bashful smile on his face dropping when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Shit, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Despite the single tear rolling down your face, you laughed. “I love you so much, Arthur Morgan.”

He said your name slowly, wiping away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “I love you too.” You tried to smile at him, but a yawn overtook you, causing Arthur to laugh lightly. “Let’s get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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harley-sunday · 1 year

Text

(Don’t You) Forget About Me

Summary: Charles promised her he would call her. Problem is, he doesn’t. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader [f] Warnings: None Word count: 2.6k AN: As soon as I published Champagne Supernova I was unhappy with how I ended things because I’m nothing if not a sucker for a happy ending and so here we are. I hope you enjoy :) As always, comments are very much appreciated. As are reblogs! And no, eL, we’re not turning this into a multi-chapter even though that is in fact the problem here and I seem to be only capable of writing two-part stories for Charles...

Champagne Supernova (aka part 1)

Charles watches as her fingers fly over his screen before she locks his phone and hands it back with a wicked smile, “Let’s see if you remember my name- Later.”

“Oh, I will,” he assures her, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget it. He’s known her for not even an hour but already it feels like they’ve already spent a lifetime together, like she’s always been right there next to him, if only slightly out of reach.

“Good,” she says, interrupting his thoughts, and leans over the centre console, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek that he can feel burn into his skin nonetheless. “I’ll be seeing you then.”

“You will,” he replies with a wink that he hopes makes him seem more confident than he is.

“Thank you for driving me home,” she tells him as she steps out of the car. “Drive safe.”

He’s not sure if she means now or when he’s back on track again next week but still he tells her, “Always.”

He doesn’t want to go, not really, but there are people waiting for him, people to take pictures with, and hands to shake, his only appeal that those people can then boast they know a Formula One driver. He hates it. Hates this part of his job. Hates that he has to leave her and this promise of something more behind but he knows he has to, and so he waves and tries not to look back because he thinks he’ll never be able to leave if he does.

***

“Where were you?”

He could have given a vague answer, could have told his older brother that he simply went outside for some fresh air, but instead he tells the truth because he doesn’t want to lie about her, “A girl bumped into me and I spilled my drink on her so I-”

Lorenzo gestures at his chest “So where’s your jacket.”

He shrugs, because isn’t it obvious? “I gave it to her.” Then, as if that’s what Lorenzo will be worried about, “I’ll get it back. Later.”

His brother eyes him suspiciously but doesn’t say anything and instead starts taking off his own jacket and hands it to Charles with a nod towards the dining room, “Here, you’ll need this for the pictures. They’re waiting for you.”

Charles figures they can wait a little longer and takes his time putting the slightly too big jacket on, still thinking about her. The way her dressed hugged her curves, even more there where his drink soaked the fabric and-

“Charlie,” Lorenzo flicks the side of his head with an exaggerated sigh, “where’s your head at?” He gives him a gentle shove towards the door and repeats his earlier words, “They are waiting for you.” And because Lorenzo is his older brother and always seems to know exactly what is going on in Charles’ mind he winks and adds, “You can tell me about her later.”

***

“So I drove her home,” Charles says, coming to the end of his story, “and told her I would be back for my jacket.”

Next to him Lorenzo keeps his eyes on the road and nods but from the backseat Arthur lets out a low whistle before he leans forward and rests his elbows on the seats on either side of him, “So you’re just going to show up at her house or-?”

Charles smiles and shakes his head, “I asked for her number and-”

“Oooh,” Arthur draws out and ruffles Charles’ hair. “Very smooth, frérot.”

Charles ignores him, “-I’ll call her later this week.”

***

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t call and he doesn’t pick up the jacket. He wants to. God, does he want to but he gets home late and the next morning, before he’s even had the chance to replay last night’s events in his mind, he gets a call from Mattia who asks- Makes him fly out to Maranello that same day. Something about more testing, more meetings with the team, more efforts to turn the season around to try and clench the championship. He goes, of course he does.

He still has a chance to become world champion and it’s everything he’s ever worked for in his life and so he goes and he doesn’t call.

***

After a week in Maranello the triple header starts. Spa first, Zandvoort next, and then Monza. Two podiums in three races isn’t bad, but he doesn’t win and so it doesn’t really count. Max is more than a hundred points ahead of him in the standings but Charles still thinks he has a chance and so he stays in Italy after Monza for more time at the factory, more adjustments, and more time on the sim.

It’s not that he’s forgotten about her, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to, it’s just- It’s been too long for a casual text or call and so he’s starting to make a bigger deal out of it than it probably is and still doesn’t call.

***

The championship is decided in Japan, with a penalty that drops him from second to third place after the race. Somehow it doesn’t surprise him that this is how he finds out he’s not going to be world champion this year. It seems- Fitting.

That night, when he’s alone in his hotel room somewhere in Suzuka, is the first time he actually pulls up her contact and lets his thumb hover over the call button. It’s been eight weeks since the fundraiser - he knows because of course he’s kept track - and he doubts she even remembers him. Doubts she even still has the jacket. And so he locks his phone and once again doesn’t call.

***

He fights for second place the remaining five races of the season, a heated battle with Checo that gets decided in Abu Dhabi during the final race. In his favour this time. And while he much rather would have been crowned world champion, coming second to a superior Max Verstappen and a superior Red Bull is the best he and the team could do this year. Next year. Next year it will be him, he decides.

After Abu Dhabi, after post-season testing, he goes back to Maranello for the team’s detailed debrief of the 2022 season, a week-long affair that has him cooped up in meeting rooms for most of the day. He stays in Italy because a week later he has to be there for the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony in Bologna anyway.

He still doesn’t call.

***

It’s when he’s getting ready for the FIA event, putting on his Ferrari-issued suit, that Lorenzo asks, “Did you ever get your jacket back? The one you lent to that girl?”

Charles shakes his head, “No, I-”

Lorenzo lets out a frustrated sigh in a way only a brother can, “You didn’t call her?”

“No,” Charles says as he buttons up his shirt. “I did not.”

Lorenzo mutters something under his breath that Charles just knows in an insult and so he doesn’t bother with a reply. His older brother doesn’t relent that easily though, “You are an idiot, you know that? I thought you really liked her?”

“I did,” Charles agrees easily enough. Corrects himself then, “I do. I think. But-” he shrugs, “-it’s almost been four months, I doubt-” He ducks just in time to not get hit in the head by his phone that Lorenzo hurls at him from across the room, sending up a silent thank you to Andrea for all those reflex exercises he always insists on doing, even during off-season. He throws his brother a look, “What did you do that for? You could have-”

“Call her,” Lorenzo says, pointing at the phone that bounced off the wall and landed on the floor with a miraculously intact screen. “I don’t need you moping around, thinking about what could have been, over the winter break, Charlie. Just call her, take her on a date, and hey-” he shrugs with a sly smile, “-if you do get your jacket back well then that’s a win-win, non?”

He doesn’t call right away but promises himself he will. Later.

***

“The jacket you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please try again later.”

He can’t help but laugh and looks up at the house he’s standing in front of as he runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck because all of a sudden he’s nervous. He tries to hide it with a confident, “Salut ma chérie, I’m sorry for not calling any sooner but-”

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way back into our lives, Leclerc-”

“Our?” Shit. The possibility that she might have a boyfriend never even crossed his mind. He quietly curses himself, it’s been four months, of course she didn’t sit around and wait for him to maybe call her. Stupid. Stupid, stupid-

“The jacket’s and mine,” her voice interrupts his thoughts. “We are doing quite well for ourselves.”

“Hmm,” he hums, his smile returning. He takes a step closer to the front door, “Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to come see that for myself,” he says, his finger already hovering over the doorbell.

“Hmmm,” she draws out. “We might be able to arrange a supervised visit. When would you-”

He pushes down on the button and chuckles, “Now?”

“Now,” she echoes, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “Yeah- Ok. Sure. Let me just-”

The light inside the hall comes on not much later and he sees a silhouette walking towards the door. Charles takes a step back and hides the flowers he’s got her behind his back. When the door opens, the light from inside framing her face like a halo, he knows he’s done for and vows right then and there to call her every day if she’ll let him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she says, a little uncertain, and gestures at her jeans and hoodie, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone-”

“You look beautiful,” he assures her and means it. She could be wearing a garbage bag and he’d still think she’d be able to take his breath away. He holds the flowers out to her, “For not calling sooner.”

She smiles as she takes the flowers from him, “That’s very kind, thank you.”

He doesn’t really know where to go from here, doesn’t really know how to explain why he didn’t call, and he almost feels as helpless as he felt when he accidentally spilled his drink on her.

Just like that night, she takes charges and steps aside, “Come on. I’m sure your jacket will be delighted to see you.”

***

She’s offered him a drink and this time he accepts and so he finds himself sitting at her kitchen table not much later, his jacket hanging from her chair and if a garment could, he’s sure it would mock him. There’s a cup of coffee in front of him and he watches her as she makes one for herself too. When she sits down across from him he makes himself look at her when he says, “I really am sorry for not calling sooner. I didn’t mean to- What is it? Ghost you?”

“Well, you did, Charles. Disappeared like a ship in the night,” she mimics the movement with her hand but there’s a smile on her lips that he hopes means he still has a chance.

He hangs his head, guilt washing over him, “I know. The second half of the season was so crazy and I know that’s no excuse-”

“Just don’t do it again.”

It takes him a second to register her words and so he sits there with his mouth open, gaping like a fish, until he can feel himself start to smile, his hope renewed when he sees the way she’s looking at him, like she’s challenging him to not recognize this second chance that for some reason, only known to her, she has granted him. He shakes his head, “Never.”

***

At some point they move from the kitchen to the living room, her with her knees folded up under her in one corner of the couch and him angled towards her in the other. He’s told her about the last few months, the pressure he felt, not only from the team and the fans but also from himself. How it was a fight until the very end, not just on track but off track as well, with endless hours spent in the factory and on the sim.

Some of the questions she asks in between his stories tell him that she’s actually watched the races and it makes him feel both incredibly happy that she cared enough to do so and even more like an idiot for not calling her sooner.

When he tells her so she agrees with a kindhearted smile.

***

It’s only after she’s stifled a yawn during a lull in their conversation that he risks a glance at his watch and sees that it’s already past midnight. He smiles at her, “It’s late, I should probably let you get some sleep, no?”

She shrugs apologetically, “It’s been a long day-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells her as he pushes himself up from the couch and waits for her to do the same before he walks to the front door where he turns around and finds her standing there with a hesitant smile that makes him want to kiss her.

And so he does.

Taking a step closer, he licks his lips and lets his eyes fall from to her mouth in a silent question. When she tilts her head back and looks up at him he leans in and lets his lips brush against hers before he captures her mouth with his and deepens the kiss.

She puts one hand against his chest and pulls him closer with the other, which has found its way to the back of his neck.

His hands are on her hips, gently pushing her up against the wall as he lets his tongue run over her lower lip. When she opens her mouth he sighs against it, enjoying the way she tastes- Something sweet, like an apple maybe, and then he slips his tongue inside and she moans and he knows that if he doesn’t stop now he’ll regret it forever. He pulls back and lets his forehead rest against hers, breathing heavily.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, hands gripping the fabric of his sweater in an attempt to bring him back.

He shakes his head, “I want to do this right, ma belle.”

“It’s not actually like you’re doing it wrong now,” she counters, sounding as out of breath as he feels.

He chuckles and pulls back a little further so he can look at her, “Go on a date with me.”

Her eyes widen before she narrows then, a mischievous smile on her lips, “Why don’t you call me first and we’ll take it from there.”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him because that seems entirely fair, “I will.”

“Good-”

“Good,” he echoes before he presses a more chaste kiss to her lips. “And I won’t wait four months this time.”

“Don’t you dare,” she says and pushes him back and towards the door. A little quieter then, “Don’t you dare.”

He gives her another quick kiss once he’s opened the door, “I’ll see you soon.” When she nods he steps outside, the feeling of hope renewed blooming in his chest. He’s almost at his car when he looks back, a little surprised then because while the front door is still open she’s gone and so he turns around, ready to head back inside to see what’s going on.

“Hey, Leclerc,” she says then as she steps into the hall again, walking towards him with his jacket dangling on one of her fingers. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He shakes his head and smiles widely at her, “Keep it. I can come pick it up later.”

#Charles Leclerc x reader #F1 Fanfic #Charles Leclerc Imagine #Charles Leclerc fic #F1 imagine #Harley Sunday x Charles Leclerc

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doromoni · 8 months

Text

Hunting Affections

Charles Leclerc x photographer ! reader

Max Verstappen x photographer ! reader

Part 7.

fanfic + smau fic

y/n faceclaim : Hwang Eunbi

warnings : small amounts of possessiveness and angsts :>>

A/N : UP FOR EDITING 🤍

Summary; Love is but a concept — just connections of neurons that take part in the brain … and yet, why is it the most painful when one falls alone?

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back , until you can’t no more. Maybe then they’ll actually know what they’ve lost.

maxverstappen1 3 mins

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reposted by arthur_leclerc , olliebearman, and oscarpiastri

arthur_leclerc 1 min

viewed by charles_leclerc , maxverstappen1, ferraridrivingacademy, and 1,626,716 others

story replies

charles_leclerc You’re with Verstappen?! Arthur, we’re brothers how can you do this?!! He is the person who stole y/n from me!! And why are you even at y/n’s house? Are still talking to her, when I specifically said don’t?!

arthur_leclerc I get to choose who I get to be friends with, Charles. I won’t let you dictate my relationship with y/n anymore, she is like family to me. I’m trying to fix our relationship… I could only say that you should do the same. I’ll talk to you in person if you want to say more.

y/n_stills.

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tagged maxverstappen1 , oscarpiastri , olliebearman , and , arthur_leclerc

y/n_stills. what a weird family date. I came home with can I be your grid child applications. @maxvertappen1 can you handle 2 more?

I didn’t let them drink or over feed them. We followed the meal plan . There’s a responsible adult here (me) 😇

maxverstappen1 we barely have @oscarpiastri for a month, can I buy you a dog instead?

y/n_stills. aw, sorry @olliebearman and @arthurleclerc . Papa said no :((

oscarpiastri yeah nah, I’m good being an only child. Thanks.

olliebearman what? Nooooooo. what do I need to do to pass @maxvestappen1?

arthur_leclerc yup , same question 🙋‍♂️ was our fifa game not enough @maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri @olliebearman @arthur_leclerc you need to win the F2 championship, that’s all. 😁

y/n_stills. welp there you go! That’s the requirement, kids. Good luck 😊

maxverstappen1 they said it, not me 🤷‍♂️

ferraridriveracademy hear that boys? @olliebearman @arthur_leclerc win the championship 🫣

y/n_stills. @ferraridriveracademy … nope, shhh shhh none from you 😀 promise an f1 seat first then talk.

landonorris Max sent me a video of everyone eating McFlurries :)) great meal plan ! Count me in

y/n_stills. what McFlurry 😊 there was no ice cream involved . right @maxvestappen1

danielricciardo Max sent me the same vid. @y/n_stills. What’s up with you and McFlurries?

y/n_stills. MAX!! i told you not to tattle >:(( and fyi danny ricccccc McFlurries are the best, that’s why.

maxverstappen1 sorry, dear 😅

oscarpiastri not gonna lie it was good.

landonorris you like anything sweet 🙄

arthur_leclerc McFlurries are good. I liked it. Period

olliebearman well it is worth the calories

y/n_stills. more than gelato? @olliebearman @arthur_leclerc🧐

arthur_leclerc 😐😐😐

olliebearman uhhhhh

Bffusername are these my nephews?

y/n_stills. you’ll finally meet everyone tomorrow!!

lewishamilton You went to the restaurant!

y/n_stills. We did! Thanks for the recommendation, Lew!

user1 why are they fighting about McFlurries? Did I miss a chapter?

user2 at this point I just sit back and watch the chaos.

user3 I know right? The grid interaction this season is extra silly.

user4 not y/n feeding the grid kids sweets 🥺, why is that endearing. Imagine max driving through a McDonald’s drive through with the kids at the back seat . Oh no I’m soft

user5 @user4 let’s be delulu together! That’s so domesticated, I cant handle it.

y/n_stills. @user4 what if I said, that actually happened 🫣

user4 OH MY!! Y/N !! Nooooo you did not 😭😭.

user6 we’re do I subscribe for keeping up with the Verstappens?

y/n_stills. No stop, this sound so fun! Someone write that down!

user6 you heard y/n! Produce it now!

user7 Max being a grid dad was not on my 2023 bingo card

user8 but we are not complaining, @y/n_stills. pls give us more family content

Bffusername 1h

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y/n_stills. I got you boo 😘

bffusername I also want the pin thingy you have >:(( how do I get that?

y/n_stills. you mean the team access badge? HAHAHAH either work for a team or date a driver 🤷‍♂️

Bffusername oh… HAHAHAHAHAHHA

y/n_stills. COME ON BE A WAG , choose someone single from the grid!!

Bffusername df y/n? The only people I know here are you and Max. Oh and that guy I bumped into before going to the garage. I think he followed me just now?

y/n_stills. b/f/n?!! WHAT?!! Spill!! I leave you for 1 minute for work and you already found someone.

Bffusername Dude chill! I’m a singer, he probably followed me because of that, though it was my private account… maybe he made a mistake. I think you know him quite well actually! He said his name was Nando Lorris?

y/n_stills. NO. Shut up. b/f/n….do you mean Lando Norris? Was his hair brown and messy , green eyes and was he wearing orange?

Bffusername YES! THATS HIM! yeah I bumped into him outside the McLaren(?) garage. The one beside the Ferrari one.

y/n_stills. And He followed you on instagram? your private one? I can’t wait to rub this in his face!! HAHAHAHAHAHA this is GOLD.

Bffusername what do you mean?

y/n_stills. Oh nothing my gorgeous best friend ~ hang on tight for a few more minutes, I’m almost done with work

Bffusername No worries , babe! It’s urgent and I’m a big girl and I can handle myself 😘.

I quickly pulled out my messages and started text bombing Lando.

————-F1 Breaking-————

FIA denies Ferrari’s appeal towards claims of impeding towards Leclerc by Red bull's Verstappen , Perez and McLaren's Norris, Piastri. Both teams will not face any penalties and will continue the race with a warning.

————————————

b/f/n and I strolled through the circuit, trying to find our way towards the red bull car of max in the front of the grid. Finding the act to be a difficulty as the grid became packed with people trying to have a look at the cars and some looking for a chance to talk to the drivers.

Holding onto b/f/n’s hand , I tried to lead us towards the front — when a mic suddenly appeared and the all too familiar friendly voice of David Croft boomed, and the camera focused on us.

“Y/N! It’s Lovely to see down here again! We have been missing your presence at Sky. So how have you been? “ A feeling of fondness blossomed in my heart at the sight of an old colleague and friend.

With a smile . I answered the jolly commentator

“Crofty! It’s lovely to see you too! Well, i’ll admit it’s quite weird to be at the receiving end of the microphone. I’ve been great, thank you for asking! “ Crofty’s eyes fell towards my best friend , who interestingly was a very popular singer.

A chuckle fell from my mouth as Crofty started to fire questions towards the clueless b/f/n — who did not realise that the person she was talking to was the colleague that i’ve told her stories about on so many occasions.

“Ms. b/f/n, What a surprise to see you here, a pleasant surprise of course! I didn’t know that you were a fan of the sport! Are you having fun so far?”

“Oh, well I don’t really know much about F1 to be considered a fan. Y/n , here begged me to finally meet her friends and to see what all the fuss was about. Well, I’ll admit, everything has been exhilarating so far! The energy here is amazing. “

“Well thank you so much for talking to us , Ms. b/f/n! And y/n we really do need to catch up more often~ bye ladies!” Clutching b/f/n’s hand a little tighter as people kept pushing through.

I continued to venture towards Red Bull. Then a flash of orange lingering towards my right and a thought came to mind. With a smirk playing on my lips, I pulled b/f/n towards the car of the one and only Nando Lorris

“Y/n, where are you taking me? The red bull cars are that way” b/f/n said as she pointed towards the front of the grid. Pasting my most innocent smile on, I only looked at her and continued to pull.

“Oh Landoooo~” I chimed as soon as we were close enough for the British driver to hear. At the sound of my voice , he turned around — his green eyes slowly growing bigger at the sight of my companion. A sly grin formed on my lips.

“b/f/n this is Lando , Lando this is b/f/n. Isn’t it nice that my best friends are finally meeting each other? You two get to know each other , I’ll go find Max. Ok? Bye! I’ll find you before the anthem starts! Lando will explain ~ “ I dashed away as soon as I said bye, not leaving enough time for any of them to interrupt. Better make great use of the opportunity, Lando.

Skipping through the crowd, as the Red and Blue car of my boyfriend grew nearer. And there stood Max, in all his glory; clothed in his fireproofs with his race suit only zipped halfway. A faux red bull can in his hand , teeth gently biting the straw as he spoke to his race engineer. Dark blonde hair deliciously tousled from his balaclava. Skin flushed red from the heat of the engine

Appreciating my boyfriend, my eyes travelling all over his physique. Max was made for racing, he was so in tune with the environment, the car, the people… everything — it was electrifying to witness. Oh how did I not see him sooner.

Feeling my gaze on him, Max’s eyes found mine. A charming smile overtook his features, as he beckoned me towards him. As I came near enough, Max had pulled me into his arms and placed a kiss on my lips, a hand cupping my jaw.

The mix of the sudden public display of affection and my already heated thoughts made blood rush to my cheeks. Embarrassed , as I hid my face in his embrace and mumbled.

“Max, people are watching”

“Let them watch, I don’t care,” Max said as he placed another peck on my forehead. I lifted my head to look into his eyes, my chin resting on his hardened chest. A look of fondness flashed through his features as he quickly planted another kiss on my lips making me melt into his embrace even further.

“Max , when I said people watching, I meant our boss is watching” I said chuckling softly as I looked towards the direction of Christian Horner, who was now faking a cough along with Max’s other engineers.

“Alright! I’m sorry! “ Max said jokingly , as he let me out of his embrace— only to catch my hand in his and intertwine our fingers in the process.

“How was your day , Liebling? Oh , where is b/f/n? “ Max said as he pulled us to a quieter part of the track. At the mention of b/f/n’s name , the sly grin once again graced my face.

“Everything was alright, love~ and b/f/n is with McLaren” A look of confusion was present in the Dutchman’s face.

“She knows someone from McLaren? I thought you and I were the only people she knew here”

“ Well apparently, my dearest Emilian , a certain McLaren driver “bumped” into b/f/n and “accidentally” followed her private instagram account” I spilled with a cheeky-est smile I could muster.

Then suddenly a look of understanding passed through Max

“NOOOO LANDO?!! how didn’t I see this? He follows all her public accounts and he’s always listening to her music “ Max eyes were shot wide , I giggled as I nodded to him

“That’s what I said!! Lando better not screw this up” I stated elated that Max was in the same wavelength. Suddenly the alarm that the nation’s anthem would be starting soon rang, catching both Max's and I's attention.

“My Love, I need to fetch b/f/n. I’ll see you again in the garage, okay?” I detached my hand from his , only to find its way to his structured jaw

“Good luck and please be safe. Win or lose, you will always be my champion” Max leaned his forehead to mine, a habit the he grew to do everytime that he was overwhelmed with emotion.

“I love you, Liebling”

“And I love you , Max”

Gazing into his eyes, then placing my lips to his once more . Not noticing the splash of red passing behind us.

—————-

“And it’s lights out, and away we go!” And With Crofty’s signature phrase, the racr had officially begun.

The first few laps had been successful for all teams, having no collisions or machinery errors this far into the race.

Time passed as quickly as the cars had. The laps had been halved, with teams gaining positions while others have lost positions; and Ferrari belonged to the latter.

The race was going as usual, with Max leading grid. Until a weird radio call from Checo’s car was broadcasted.

*radio beep*

* WHAT IS LECLERC DOING?? He didn’t leave enough space! We almost collided again, that’s twice!! Is the FIA investigating?*

* Copy , Checo. We will talk to the stewards again. *

* What position am I in now?*

* That’s P4, P4*

*radio end*

Then another radio call was heard, this time it was from Hamilton in the Mercedes car.

*radio beep*

* I see , a Ferrari behind . Will they be attacking? *

* that is Leclerc and Ferrari will not attack and they will conserve the tires*

* Cop- WHAT THE ****! Leclerc suddenly attacked! He’s infront but his tires are not good*

*radio end*

Confusion filled all the team garages, including the Italian team in red . As another radio call was broadcasted, this time it was from Ferrari themselves

*radio beep*

*Charles do not push! Tires are degraded!*

* Charles, do you copy?*

* LECLERC BOX BOX! TIRES ARE DEGRADING FAST, YOU’LL BLOW A TIRE*

*radio ends*

A sudden silence filled the air as people tried to understand the situation. As engineers busied themselves with data and informing drivers of the situation. Anxiety filled me as Charles slowly closed the gap between his Ferrari and Max’s Red bull. The sudden departure of b/f/n didn’t help either , as she had an urgent family matter to handle.

Everyone was holding their breaths as the last lap of the race approached. I focused my eyes on the screen and listened closely to the commentator.

“It's the final lap and It's a neck on neck for Verstappen and Leclerc! It's Verstappen! No! It's Leclerc! It's the final turn before the chequered flag. Leclerc is gaining on Verstappen, here comes the final turn. Verstappen breaks last! But Leclerc is not far behind. “

“AND THE FERRARI AND REDBULL TOUCH! WHEELS HAVE MADE CONTACT. BOTH CARS ARE LOSING CONTROL! AND LECLERC AND VERSTAPPEN GO OUT SPINNING.”

Crashes and collisions are not unusual to the high speed sport of Formula 1, yet it does not diminish the depravity of it all . I couldn't shake the worry and dread that swallowed my every emotion. Nerves spiking as my leg bounces uncontrollably at the sight of the cars colliding and spinning off track. Panic increasingly grew as the garage turned to radio silent…

“AND LECLERC GOES INTO THE BARRIER BUT VERSTAPPEN HAS FOUND TRACTION! AND MAX VERSTAPPEN CROSSES THE CHEQUERED FLAG! HE HAS WON! THAT'S ANOTHER WIN FOR MAX AND REDBULL.”

As the crowd cheered, the garage of red and blue was filled with ecstatic mechanics patting each other on the back and engineers chattering over each other as they celebrated another race win.

Even as the air filled with cheers and excitement, I could only think about the wellbeing of Max. Was he alright , Is he hurt? Only these thoughts filled my mind. I silently chewed on my lip as my leg continued to bounce and my fingers tapped on my other knee – with my head down and eyes shut close, as I tried to assure myself that Max was not going anywhere.

Startled, at someone’s hand on my shoulder – I opened my eyes. A piece of metal equipment, painted a deep blue color was in my line of sight, a headset. Abruptly lifting my head, I was faced with one of Max’s race engineers . He supported a comforting smile as he placed the headset into my hands.

“Christian said you could talk to him, you tell him he won, yeah?”

Quickly understanding the situation, I was on my feet. With a quick smile and thank you, I placed the headset on – it was slightly heavy and a shiver ran up my spine as I felt its shocking coldness on my face. Not wasting any more time, I pressed the radio button that allowed me to communicate with Max.

*radio beep*

*MAX! Are you alright!? Are you hurt in any way?*

*Y/N? Wha-?*

*It's me. Love, are you alright? Please tell me you’re okay*

A bit confused, yet more so delighted to talk to his partner on his car radio , Max replied – without a worry that everyone tuned in all over the globe would be able to hear. Because, He was proud to call y/n, his and If he were to choose, he will always have his Liebling’ voice to listen to in every race in his entire life.

*I'm alright. Liebling. I’m not hurt, just a bit dizzy. And no, I do not need medical attention. Thank you for worrying though. *

A smile can be heard through the driver’s radio as he talked. Shocking fans and presenters from the softness and warmth of the Dutch Drivers voice as he spoke to his girlfriend.

* That was quite a spin Max, you scared me! you almost crashed into the wall! You idiot … but congratulations that’s P1! P1! You won! Love, that's another podium!*

* Nice, Nice! Simply lovely! And I simply love you my Schatz!!*

*That’s so going on live tv …You’re so lame! I love you too, see you on the podium! Your engineer needs the headset back, ciao dear.*

*Your love hurts, dear HAHAHA. Yeah, let me talk to GP. *

*radio end*

The feeling of worry and dread leaving my system at Max’s assurance. I thanked the engineer again and I returned the headset back , with a grin on my face – now giddy for Max and the team’s success. Skipping out of the Red Bull garage making way to congratulate Max at the barricade with the rest of the crew.

When suddenly a red gloved hand held my arm – stopping me in my tracks.

It’s Carlos! I smiled as I greeted him.

“Hey Chili! Congrats on the race~ what’s up?”

“Hola, Nina , thank you… ” the smile on my face slowly dimmed and replaced concern . Carlos was not looking at me straight, his demeanour was not at all normal – he was fidgety and restless.

“Carlos? Is everything alright? You could tell me” I asked, trying to catch his line of sight.

“I, uh… Y/n its about Charles ..he’s has gone mad” my concern suddenly morphed into confusion.

“What do you mean by that C?” I tried probing. His eyes darted left and right , surveying for any filming cameras.

“When the FIA differed Ferrari’s appeal towards Red bull and McLaren , Charles lost it and started trashing the motorhome. And during the race , he ignored all team orders… especially during the last lap. He was told not to push and attack Max. ”

I was suddenly speechless. All the color on my face drained and my palms started to clam up. Brows furrowing as I stared at Carlos , nothing coming out my mouth.

“Pierre and I are planning an intervention before this goes way out of hand and before people get killed on that track. I know that we are asking so much , but we need you with us Y/N” My eyes shot wide as his request registered to me. My throat is growing dryer by the second.

“Carlos , I don’t kno– I’m not su-. I'm sorry, I can't give an answer now. Please let me think about it, ” I pleaded.

“Yes! Y/n ,of course. Just think about it . ” Carlos quickly replied.

“Thank you , C” I smiled as quickly side hugged him and scurried away , desperately trying to find Max or any familiar face from Red Bull.

As I neared the barracks, I schooled my expression — trying to forget what I just heard from the Spanish driver. This was not the time to make things about myself, it was time to celebrate the success of Max and the team.

y/n_stills.

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tagged maxverstappen1

y/n_stills. Another P1! A monster on the streets and the sheets

maxverstappen1 what can I say 🤷‍♂️and thank you , Liebling.

y/n_stills. 🤭🤭🤭

landonorris what is this caption y/n ?????

y/n_stills. what it’s true 😇

landonorris you two are disgusting

y/n_stills. I wouldn't be too quick to say that Norris , I have dirt on you hehehehe

oscarpiastri Whoa keep it pg , mom. There are kids here!

y/n_stills. close your eyes , Osc!🫣

redbullracing hmmm…

y/n_stills. Oh hi there , employers! Lovely seeing you here 😀

redbullracing we saw nothing…

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call-sign-shark · 7 months

Text

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT

The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying. He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it. God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up, sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears.

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.”

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.” The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth? These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did.

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce. Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment… I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned. “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.” He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.”

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned.

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

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photo1030 · 2 months

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 21: Because You’re Mine, I Walk the Line

Summary: Arthur treats you to a stay in a hotel in the new town and promises to be on his best behavior.

Warnings: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This beautiful moodboard is graciously provided by @namesaretomainstream

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The gang has proceeded to move south to a secure area outside of a town called Blackwater. Winter will be upon the region soon and hopefully it will be a bit warmer by moving away from the mountains. The gang as a whole has not been in this area before, although Hosea worked a few jobs around here many years ago. Arthur and John went on ahead to scout while the rest of you pack up the camp.

The brothers have been gone for over a week before they meet you all along the trail to lead you to where they deem safe and out of the way. At first, you cringed a bit at the thought of Arthur and John being alone together for any extended period of time without any sort of buffer between them. They’ve been arguing a lot lately. While John has been trying to make an attempt at making his relationship with Abigail and Jack work (albeit a sometimes feeble attempt), Arthur is still quick to be irritable and impatient with him. You have to bite your tongue to refrain from reminding Arthur that he himself had a hard time coping with fatherhood when it was first thrust upon him. That is certainly a fight that you just do not want to have with him.

But on a positive note, the whole camp is excited with the new opportunity. A new area means new towns, new people, new goods available. And new jobs. But with that also comes more attention. The pressure of the local law is constantly present upon the gang and seemingly increasing of late. But Dutch seems to think he can continue to stay one step ahead. It’s a good thing for everyone that the Devil himself doesn’t have the confidence that Dutch Van Der Linde has. Otherwise the entire world and heaven above would be in trouble.

After getting everything settled with the new camp, Arthur decides that it’s time to pamper you a little. While out scouting the nearest little town he gets the idea to treat you to a stay at the local hotel for a hot bath, a real bed, and some private time alone for just the two of you. The town of Trimble is new and quaint. When Arthur tells you that he’s already told Dutch that the two of you will be out of camp for the next few days, your squeal of excitement is reward enough.

You are so looking forward to being alone in a hotel with Arthur for the first time. To be away from the prying eyes of camp and to not be interrupted every five minutes for one thing or another.

It's cloudy and overcast the morning that you are to leave. Although the temperature is brisk, you are warm with excitement. You are sure to clean yourself up and fix your hair to look pretty. You want everything to be perfect. You've always been a bit self-conscious of your appearance, but you’ve always managed to put yourself together well. Corsets help, of course. The belief has always been that if you were done up with curled hair and a bit of rouge on your cheeks, it would distract from the way your curves are hidden within a pretty dress. As you stand in your tent and finish pulling at the lavender-colored cotton of your sleeves, you hear a slow whistle behind you.

“Look at you! Pretty like a meadow flower. Ain’t I a lucky man.” Looking over your shoulder, Arthur stands at the opening of your shared tent, one arm slung up to hang from the top of the tent support pole, the other hand tucked lazily into his belt. A grin of approval sits upon his handsome face as his eyes float up and down over your frame.

“Why, thank you,” you giggle, blushing slightly. “Don’t forget to give yourself time to clean up, too, before we go.”

“What?” His face quickly turns to a pout like a confused child.

“Hey, I spent a lot of time getting myself put together for you,” you playfully scold him. Arthur’s eyes follow your nimble fingers as they adjust the delicate earring you are popping into your ear. Thoughts of his teeth nibbling on that same earlobe last night skitter distractedly through his mind.

“That’s your own fault,” he teases, refocusing on the conversation at hand. “I think you look perfect the way you were.”

Oh, how your heart does a somersault at his genuine flattery. No one has ever spoken to you the way that Arthur does. “I’m sure you do. But listen, I want to look nice for you, okay? And, besides, I can’t be the only good-looking one walking around.”

“Sweetheart, that’s going to be the case regardless of what I manage to put together with this.” He waves at himself dismissively. You take notice of the dried mud stains on his faded brown shirt and vest and make a mental note that his threadbare jacket needs mending yet again.

“Shut it, that’s my man you’re talking about.” You shoot Arthur an impish glare as you walk over to him, placing your hand along his ribs. “Now wash yourself up or I’ll be forced to do it for you.” You grab his chin and pull him down for a quick peck on the lips.

Arthur playfully raises an eyebrow at you. “You flirtin’ with me already?”

Your laugh carries through the air as you walk past him out of the tent and head over to where Mary-Beth and Tilly sit. They promised to help you set your hair before you leave.

He grumbles about it, but Arthur concedes to the task, knowing how excited you are for your little holiday. He washes his face in the basin you set out for him in the tent, noting how the dirty water runs over his fingers and cringes at how you were right as usual. He even goes so far as to shave for you. Not too clean, but keeping the beard stubble to the length that you prefer. He wipes his chin with his shaving towel, observing you as you flit about the camp, preparing for your departure. You are absolutely giddy, giggling and whispering with the other girls as they offer to help you primp and prepare for your romantic stay. He smiles to himself, glad that he made that decision to get you out for a bit.

Arthur feels as if he’s finally met his match with you, the one person who is brave enough to love him as he is, and strong enough to handle all of him, even the broken parts. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want the world, you just want to feel safe and secure in his world. You have made him that one promise that he’s ever needed to hear in his life and that is to never give up on him. And he wants to do whatever he can to make that an easier choice for you.

As you pack your saddle bags and get the horses ready for the ride, Hosea strides over to give the two of you a quick reminder to behave and be mindful. The gang is new to the area and still getting its bearings. You all need to lay low until you know what you’re dealing with.

“Now remember, no fighting. No stealing. No riots. I don’t need to be making a house-call to the local jailhouse to bail you out so soon.” As he speaks, you watch the smoke rise from Hosea’s cigarette and circle his head like a crown, his eyes squinting slightly at the burn.

“We’ll be fine.” Arthur rolls his eyes dismissively at the older man as he finishes tying up Buck’s saddle.

“I’m talkin’ about you specifically,” Hosea stresses, poking his finger into Arthur’s chest. “I’m not worried about Y/N acting like a fool.”

“Calm down. I’ll have her along with me.” Arthur waves his hand towards you. “She’ll keep me straight and make me tow the line.”

“I hope so. But you’re also a bull in a china shop when it comes to her.” Hosea tips his head in your direction. “Just keep your head about you, would you?”

“I got this, ‘sea.” You flash a smile and give the man a kiss on the cheek right below his graying temple. “I’ll make sure Arthur stays in line.”

Hosea’s scowl at Arthur turns to a loving grin at you. “I’m sure you will, my dear. Because you’re the only one with any damn sense around here.” He affectionately pats your hand.

“Hey!” whines Arthur, defensively. Hosea waves him off, giving one last “be careful”, and walks back towards his chair. Arthur turns back to you and swats your arm. “Kiss-ass.”

You can only roll your eyes with a short laugh as you finish packing Blue’s saddlebags.

————————————

The ride to Trimble doesn’t take too long, only about thirty minutes on horseback. The sun is still fighting to break the clouds and the wind kicks up, churning the last remnants of fall leaves on the ground at your horses’ feet. It’s late morning by the time you arrive and the townspeople are already bustling about. Arthur was right, the town is quaint and charming.

As you lead your horses down the street, you look up excitedly at the approaching hotel sign. The two of you get your horses hitched to the post outside just as an idea comes to you and you search the street to see what is around.

You point at the general store which is a couple of doors down. “Before we head to the room, I want to make a quick stop.”

“For what?” asks Arthur as he follows you next door, his gaze lingering on the hotel instead. He is anxious to get to your room and begin your stay together.

“I want to get a few things. Some food, things like that.”

“They have food at the hotel, you know,” he huffs. You can hear Arthur’s boots scrape against the wood of the boardwalk behind you as he slightly drags his feet, reluctant to be side-tracked with any errands.

Pausing just outside the door of the store, you turn with a smirk. You press yourself up against him, purposely pushing your cleavage against his hard chest. “I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of even being dressed, let alone leaving that room for the next two days, mister.”

Arthur’s eyes roll shut, head tilting back for a moment with a groan at the very thought of being blissfully naked for two full days. When he looks down into your beautiful face again, his sapphire eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Woman, I’m gonna make you sing like the angel you are,” he growls out.

“Such things you say, Mr. Morgan,” you purr back with the most unladylike smile.

“I’m trying my best to be a gentleman right now, Y/N. But if you keep lookin’ at me like that with the devil in your eye…we’re fucking on the closest thing I can find to bend you over on.”

Your legs actually quiver at the thought. You know you shouldn’t be excited by such vulgarity. But then again, you can’t help but be tempted to tease this theory of his as he leans over you so close that you can feel the heat beginning to radiate off of him, even in the chilly air.

“I have to warn you, Arthur, I may scratch and I may bite.” Your fingertip runs down his cheek and along his jawline.

“You’ll crawl and beg, too, when I’m done with you,” he promises.

A sultry giggle erupts from your lips as you reach up to place a short, yet heated kiss upon his plump lips. Arthur then dips in closer to place a quick love bite along your neck, drawing a quick little yelp from you.

Your focus is broken when you hear an annoyed tsk from somewhere next to you and you catch the disapproving glances from an older couple who are passing along on the street. You quickly clear your throat, tapping Arthur’s shoulder to indicate that he needs to stop this little scene. You blush, hiding your face into your hands, and lean into his chest with an embarrassed little groan.

“C’mon” chuckles Arthur as he places a kiss to the top of your head, “Let’s get this little errand of yours done so we can get started. Looks like we’re on borrowed time.”

It is a quick shopping trip inside the store for you. The little shop is kept neat and well-stocked, with natural light pouring in through the windows along the front. Dried herbs and woven baskets hang from the ceiling and barrels of various items line the walls. The store has everything from grains to produce, from ropes and hammers to books and socks.

Arthur leans against the sales counter as you walk about the store to grab a few things, such as some fruit, dried meats, a loaf of bread, a small brick of cheese and a bottle of cheap wine. In and out within a few minutes and then you and Arthur head back towards the hotel.

Walking into the establishment, it is warm and cheerful. It is a fairly large open area with the front desk centered along the back wall. To the left is what seems to be a small restaurant-cafe with a mixture of aromas drifting through the enclosed space, and to the right is a sitting room where some of the guests are playing checkers while sipping on coffee. The woodwork is white-washed and simple paintings adorn the walls.

Behind the desk is a short, plump woman, looking to be about in her 50’s. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, with streaks of gray ribboning through it. She sets down the book she is reading and peers over her spectacles when she hears the bell above the door ring as you and Arthur come through the threshold.

“Afternoon, folks,” she greets you with a wide, toothy smile. “What can I do for you?”

Arthur strides up to the desk, placing his hands upon the smoothly painted wood. “The lady and I need a room. We’ve been on the road for a bit, so we’d like some privacy, if you don’t mind,” he stresses. “Peace and quiet, that sort of thing.” He fills out the ledger she pushes towards him on the counter.

“Of course, Mr…Callahan.” She nods as she reads the name scrawled in his handwriting. “Well, I have the room at the far end of the hall that’s empty. No one else on that side.” She points up the stairs and to the right. “It’s the smallest room I got, but it’s going to be the quietest.”

“We don’t need big. We need private,” Arthur says, rather short and curt in his demeanor and the woman gives him a curious look.

“Newly weds”, you quickly interject as if answering the woman’s unasked question with a radiant smile on your lips as your nose wrinkles with excitement. You lace your arms around Arthur’s as you lay your head against his shoulder, playing up the act. Arthur looks over at you with a smirk.

“Oh!” She smiles back. “How sweet.” But her face drops a bit when she looks at your hand. She looks puzzled as you follow her gaze.

“I don’t wear my ring when we travel.” You flutter your fingers for emphasis. “A lot of questionable folks in this area. You understand.”

She smiles again and nods. “Of course. I don’t blame you, Miss. Enjoy your stay.” She slides the room key to Arthur, pointing in the general direction you need to head. You both thank her for her kindness and quickly make for the staircase to head upstairs.

As you walk down the hallway, Arthur leans down to your ear. “‘Questionable folks’? If only she knew.”

“Shh! Don’t worry about that now,” your voice floats with a wispy tone. “We’re not outlaws for the next two days. We’re just-“

“Newly weds.” He smiles down at you.

“That’s right. Newly weds.” You grin ear to ear back at him. “And I think we have some ‘consummating’ to do.”

You come to the end of the hall, arriving at Number 6. Twisting the key into the slightly stubborn iron lock, Arthur pushes the door open for you. You step into the room and survey your temporary lodging. Your mouth gapes slightly, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. It's adorable.

The room is in fact small, but offers enough space to move about comfortably. It’s painted a simple white, bright and airy, to match the lobby with little pitchers of dried flowers on the one small table in the room and on the one dresser that is available. White eyelet curtains swag across the two small windows that flank the bed that sits in the middle of the wall. A beautiful mauve comforter adorns the mattress with a metal frame securing it. You smile wickedly as you have plans for that headboard.

Arthur steps in behind you as he closes the door and heads over to the small fireplace to get a fire going. You set your few things on the small table and make your way to the bed. Your hand runs along the soft bedding, gliding along the surface as if trailing your fingertips through water. It’s been awhile since you've experienced such finery, such as it is. Slowly lowering yourself down onto the bed, you lay backwards, letting the muscles of your back unknot themselves as you take a deep calming breath. The feeling of the fluffy quilt envelops you as if you are floating on a cloud as you sink back, the scent of clean linen wafting in the air.

“Oh, I almost forgot what a real bed feels like.” A deep and lazy sigh exhales from your chest, making the bodice of your dress float. When you open your eyes, you see Arthur watching you intently. “Are you going to join me?”

Arthur’s only answer is a grin as he proceeds to take off his gun belt, laying it across the table next to your bags with a slight thud and strides over to you, his vivid eyes shining. As he approaches the bed, you roll to sit up on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck with a giggle and sweetly kiss him. His large, warm hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer to him as he smiles into your mouth in return. Suddenly, you stop, pulling back to look at him.

“Do you hear that?” you whisper.

Startled, Arthur’s eyes narrow as he tries to listen. His body stiffens slightly as a defensive reflex.

“Silence”, you breathe even lower. “There’s no one. No Dutch. No Susan. No Sean. And -” you pause for emphasis- “no Micah. Just you and me.” Your eyes gleam ecstatically as you collect his face into your gentle hands.

A huge smile slowly blooms across Arthur’s face as reality has fully hit him now. ‘Just you and me.’ It’s a beautiful little sentiment, isn’t it?

“Well, let’s not waste a single minute of it, then,” he says. He gently forces you back down to the bed as he lays himself over top of you. You giggle as your arms wrap around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling him to you. After a few tender moments of soft kisses, Arthur rolls to lay along your side and his hand splays across your stomach, sliding down to knead the tender skin there. You rotate your hips to press against him, your leg coming up to slot with his. When your hand comes to rest over his heart, Arthur places his own over top of it, holding it there.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get lost in your own little universe. Arthur’s hands begin to move faster, just as his lips do. The kisses become more passionate, the moaning and heavy breathing escalates. Grasping and pinching takes hold of your extremities.

The world outside the walls of this tiny rented room ceases to exist and fades away. The only things that matter are you and Arthur. You do not hear the horses and chatter from the street below. You do not smell the dinner being prepared in the kitchen of the hotel. You can only feel the soft bed beneath you and the hot skin of the person you are entwined with. And you only see the loving face that hovers in front of you.

Arthur suddenly stands up to unbutton his shirt and pull his trousers off. While he is occupied, you quickly whip off your blouse and your underclothes along with it. You grab a hold of the strings of your skirt when he abruptly stops you.

“Hold on,” Arthur murmurs, holding his hand out over your fingers. He gets that lustful look in his eyes that you know all too well. “Do it real slow-like. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

Your eyelashes flutter as a crimson-blush floats across the apple of your cheeks. But you oblige, of course, coyly pulling at the strings, your fingers daintily raised in emphasis.

Once the skirt is gone, Arthur tenderly reaches down and lifts your legs one at a time to take off your boots, leaving each foot resting on his abdomen. You curl your toes and flirtatiously extend your legs up to hook them under the collar of his union suit. Deftly using your feet, you push the sides of the fabric down over his muscled arms to expose his chest and effectively spread your legs wide for him in the process.

He pauses at the sight, eyes dark and carnal. He swallows thickly before he even attempts to speak. “Just be warned, I’m about to break you in half, woman.” His fingers trail over your calves in anticipation.

You smile mischievously and run your foot along the front of his thigh. “Oh, I surely hope so, mister. I was counting on it.”

The way Arthur makes you feel about yourself is unparalleled. He makes you feel beautiful and loved. Never in your life have you ever felt so wanted and desired. He is a man who has little in this tumultuous world so he values the things that he does have. And the idea that Arthur treasures you above all things sets your heart to flutter. He is strong and unyielding. And yet, you, simply you, have captured his heart to hold him hostage. While you calm his restless soul, he in turn makes you feel vibrant and alive.

Before you can say or do anything more, Arthur grabs your legs, yanking you closer to him as a squeal escapes from your lips until your rear sits at the edge of the bed. He kneels down in front of you, tossing your legs over his broad shoulders as your thighs slowly fall open for him.

Arthur cradles your leg to him as he places languid kisses along your plush limbs. Starting from your knee, his hot tongue darts in and out as his lips travel along the soft skin to your plump thighs, creeping his way towards your heat. He moves agonizingly slow, but the sheer feeling of it makes time stand still.

You sit up on your elbows and watch him work, delighted in how much he revels in the experience. Arthur fully plans on indulging himself and taking complete advantage of the situation. No interruptions, no nosy eyes and ears. The comfort and warmth of a proper shelter lending to the tender atmosphere. Arthur will covet every little thing and every single moment that he has with you for the next two days.

His strong hands float across the skin of your thighs to meet where his mouth is, coming together at the apex between your legs. Your breath hitches as his thick fingertips gently graze over the tender folds of skin. Your mouth gapes slightly at the incredible sensation. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he assesses the treasure before him. A quick look up to catch your loving gaze before he dips down, his tongue dragging along the slit of your heat. Your eyes instantly flutter with a staggered breath ghosting from your lips. He begins to wag his tongue back and forth, basking in your taste. Before long, he slides his finger up along the skin, sliding in and out, covered in your wetness.

The two techniques in conjunction cause you to moan loudly. Your head falls back between your shoulder blades causing your breasts to angle up higher for his viewing pleasure. But you bite your lip to try to stifle yourself out of habit, afraid someone will hear.

“Go ahead and make all the pretty little noises you want, Darlin’. Ain’t no one gonna hear ya,” Arthur smirks. He runs his palm over your mound, gently massaging the flesh there.

“We’re not alone in this building, you know,” you pant, trying to catch your breath already. “Someone will eventually hear.”

“No one I care about.” He gives you that wicked wink.

You shoot him a kittenish look as he sets about his work again as if determined to prove his point. His mouth works you over with more force this time, completely encompassing your heat, as a second thick finger is added. Your arms give out as you drop to the mattress. You mewl and moan as you completely give in, and the sounds coming from your panting mouth only encourage Arthur to go faster and deeper. He tightly wraps his arm around your leg, pulling your hips open even more to give him access to your core. His tongue flicks over that sensitive bud, sucking and releasing while his fingers push and retract, curling as they move along the velvety walls inside you.

The muscles in your abdomen tighten as your orgasm explodes within you. You practically scream as your hands fist the blanket under you until your knuckles turn white, your whole body spasming under Arthur’s arms as he holds you in place. But instead of leaving you spent, it makes you crave even more.

“Arthur?” Your voice is breathless and shaky.

“Hmm?” He asks smugly, going back to leaving slow kisses along your thighs again. The feeling of his beard prickling your sensitive skin makes you shudder.

“I’m positive that this is only the beginning of what you have in mind. So whatever you’re going to do next, you had better get started. Because I can’t wait much longer to feel you inside me properly.”

His eyes meet your half-lidded ones, which are lust-drunk and captivating. “You got me wrapped around your pretty little fingers, you know that?”

“You got it all wrong, my love. It’s gonna be me wrapped around you. Now get over here.” You lift your leg to use it to pull him up to you.

The little term of endearment melts his heart and Arthur quickly stands to pull off the rest of his clothing in a hurry before he climbs over you, the muscles of his back rippling as he hurriedly moves to meet your lips. Your hands greedily run into his hair and then fan-out over his broad shoulders. Your legs wrap around his lower half as he sinks down over you. You can feel his hard cock rub against you and you groan into his mouth. He’s hard as a rock, his tip hot to the touch. God, you want him so badly right now. You impatiently reach between you to wrap your soft hand around his member, pumping and stroking him and he hisses in your ear in response, biting on your neck.

Arthur sits up on the bed, resting back on his heels so that he can get a full view of you. Your body writhes lying beneath him, your arms extended to run your hands along his thick thighs and across his lower abdomen. The tips of your fingers trail through the hair that makes its way towards the “v” of his groin.

Arthur teases your opening with his cock, watching as your eyes roll back. Once he’s graced the entrance, he grabs your knees and pushes his hips forward, sliding himself into your warm cunt. You clench around him as if to trap him inside of you, never to let him leave. He is entranced by the way your back arches backwards, practically bent in half, as he pushes inch by heavenly inch, in order to achieve the greatest reach.

“C’mon, baby, dance for me,” he utters.

Arthur studies the beauty of your eyes as he begins to thrust into you. He knows every line of your face from watching you from afar and viewing you up close. Leaning over you, he caresses your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his calloused hand even more. He cherishes you as he holds your face in his palm. You are totally, and absolutely, his. Sighing deeply with such affection, he gathers your hair in his fist, sliding his fingers back into your locks to pull your head back.

At one point, you try to push him over to take control, but he isn’t having it. Arthur is too lost in his own lust to give up control now. When he feels you push against his chest, he collects your wrists into his much larger hand to pin them over your head into the mattress. He grabs your leg and hooks his powerful arm under it to keep you exactly where he wants you as his thrusts pick up speed and force.

Up until now, you and Arthur have been heated, but nothing like this. He looks down at you, taken in at how you need him just as much as he needs you. He is speechless and suddenly greedy for more. He suddenly pulls himself out of you, and you gasp in disappointment at the sudden emptiness. Your eyes shoot wide open, eyebrows furrowed and questioning his motives. But he acts quickly. Arthur’s hands wrap around your sides as he abruptly flips you over on the mattress and pulls you up on all fours by your hips.

He reaches around and rakes his fingers over your heat, gathering some of your wetness to lubricate himself. Taking himself in hand, Arthur places his throbbing tip against your heat again, but this time from behind, rubbing back and forth to nestle between the sensitive folds. The mewl that drops from your lips is both animalistic and divine as your eyes screw shut as you take him again. He pushes himself into you, a loud grunt of his own filling the air.

You’ve never done it like this before. This was something you’ve heard whispered but never experienced yourself.

With this angle, Arthur’s cock drags along the roof of your cunt, dragging across nerves that are being teased in a whole new way. The upward diagonal direction of his grinding feels different, yet exponentially amazing. He’s trying to be mindful to see if you are okay with this new “experiment”, not wanting to cross a line, but he quickly loses himself. His head is spinning and he shoves himself into you, hips snapping sharply.

Stars begin to cloud your vision as your senses become overwhelmed. You feel him everywhere, inside you and all around you. You feel as if you could burst into flames right now. You’re not sure where your head is at, probably lost in oblivion, but you turn your chin to your shoulder. And watching Arthur’s face contorted in pleasure sets you off on a whole new level of desire. In a surprising act of boldness, with a breathy little whimper, you simply mutter the word “harder”.

Silly girl that you are.

Recognition flashes in Arthur’s eyes as his fingertips dig into your hips. There’s a quick smack to your ass-cheek as if sending his horse into a gallop and he’s off.

Arthur begins to pound into you relentlessly now, knowing that you are enjoying this as much as he is, sending your skin shuttering with each blow. He begins to grunt loudly as his hips snap at an increasingly faster pace. You can feel the bed itself shifting under you from his force.

With the unabated jarring of his pelvis, you lose your balance and your arms give out. Your forehead drops, digging into your forearms, but it also raises your hips even more, adding to the heavenly sensation.

Arthur eventually wraps his arm under your rib cage and pulls you up to hold you against his broad chest. The burly arm wraps around your shoulders while the other snakes down your front to fondle the delicate skin of your heat again. His mouth latches onto your neck, his forehead digging into your temple. In an attempt to grasp onto something to anchor yourself to this planet, your own arm reaches behind you to wrap around behind Arthur’s head, your fingers clenching the thick waves of sandy-blonde hair as you cry out his name. It always sends him into a heated frenzy to hear you say his name laced with such wanton desire. Sometimes, you’ll even simply whisper his name into his ear when you are just sitting by the fire, innocently nestled in his lap.

The air is filled with the scent of sweat, leather, and cigarette smoke, coupled with the rose-water you washed your hair with. Your moaning and Arthur's lustful grunts echo loudly within the small space, the sound bouncing off of the walls like a sinful orchestra.

Arthur’s powerful arms wrap around you like a large jungle snake, restrictive and making it hard to catch your breath. He holds you as if afraid to let go, afraid that you could be taken from him. Or worse yet, leave of your own accord. This whole thing is still so new to him. As wonderful as you are, there is still that sliver, that crack in his black, broken heart, that this is all too good to be true. He is still waiting for that hammer to fall and crush his fragile dream. And yet still, Arthur keeps barreling forward with his cock buried inside of you, hips bucking, until your head snaps back with your second orgasm.

Once you’re spent, your body goes limp in Arthur’s arms. His own pace sputters as he reaches his own climax shortly after you and he pulls himself out to finish on the back of your legs.

Panting heavily, you are lightheaded and collapse onto the bed under you, thankful for the cushioning that catches you.

Arthur slowly leans over you as his chest tries to recapture air into his lungs. His hands rest on either side of your body, allowing his forehead to rest between your shoulder blades. Eventually you can feel his lips leaving soft little kisses along your back.

“Good Lord, Arthur,” you chuckle, you back arching like a cat in response to his lips scattering across your skin.

“I did warn you.”

“That you did.” A satisfied hum leaves your trembling lips as you flip back over and catch him between your legs, trapping him between your thighs. His face and chest glisten with a thin sheen of sweat, even in the chilled room. “Just remember, Arthur, payback is a bitch.” And the look of absolute adoration fills his eyes at your statement.

You find the energy to sit up, propping yourself up on one elbow with the other arm slung around his shoulders. Foreheads affectionately touch together while you both catch your breath. You pepper Arthur’s face with kisses, causing the most adorable chuckle to spring from his mouth.

“This was such a good idea,” you sigh.

“Probably one of my better ones, for sure,” he agrees.

“You realize this is where we live now, right?”

“If only that were true.” Arthur gives you a sweet but sad smile before nudging your nose with his. You’ve noticed that it’s a gesture of affection that he often does with you, one that you know is meant to say ‘I love you’ without having to say it out loud.

“Well, then let’s make the most of the time we have,” you whisper. You gently pull him over you like a blanket, wrapping your arms and legs around him, your lips pressed to his. He sinks into you again with pleasure.

You spend the rest of the evening lying naked upon the bed, staring into each other’s eyes. You talk about different things, snickering and laughing, and just simply enjoy each other’s presence. You make love two more times before falling blissfully asleep in each other’s arms at some point into the very-early morning while the stars still shine in the sky, completely exhausted.

The next morning, as the sun needles its way into your windows, you roll over and bury your face into your billowy pillow. It was a late night and the idea of sleeping-in with no one hollering for you to begin work is so satisfying. You stretch your legs, wiggling a bit into the sheets and blankets. The fabric is soft wrapped around your bare body.

When Arthur’s arm enfolds you from behind, pulling you back and tucking you against him, you begin to smile softly. His much larger frame presses against the entire length of yours, making you feel safe and comforted. If heaven on Earth exists, it is right here in this tiny room, nestled quietly within this little hotel.

And it is in this blissful moment that the overwhelming realization washes over you. That there is so much more to life than simply surviving it. There is Arthur. There’s the two of you, planning and building a life together.

—---------------------------------------

After a day and a half of being holed-up in the hotel room, you and Arthur decide to head out to the saloon for a change of scenery. The fresh air and sunlight will do you both some good.

The last several hours have been spent alternating passionate love-making and catching up on much-needed rest, with Arthur taking some time to work in his journal while you relaxed and read a new novel that Mary-Beth loaned you.

You take your time in getting dressed, with no urgency to be anywhere. You have to keep swatting Arthur’s hand away when he keeps trying to undo the strings of your clothing the minute you have them tied. But eventually, you manage to get yourselves together and head downstairs.

The same woman who checked you in yesterday is sweeping the floor of the lobby and upon hearing footsteps from above, she looks up. But when she recognizes who is coming down, she shyly avoids eye contact, her face red as she sees the two of you descend the stairs. She goes back to her task, dragging the broom across the floorboards at a faster pace to avoid any awkward conversations. At first you don’t understand the behavior, but it quickly dawns on you that she must have heard your amorous activities last night.

“Whoops,” you whisper to yourself under your breath, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you walk through the lobby.

“Huh?” Arthur looks at you confused.

“Nevermind, just keep walking,” you chuckle, grabbing his arm and pushing him ahead of you and out the front door.

The saloon isn’t too far down, just about a five minute walk. With your arm linked with Arthur’s, you walk into the bar and look around excitedly. Arthur, however, is immediately on high-alert. He notices several heads turn upon your entrance, not to watch him for once, but to curiously eye-up the woman beside him. You are radiant. Your eyes are bright and cheeks flushed with color. You have a natural glow about you due to the past thirty-six hours in your hotel room.

Naturally you don’t notice the lingering eyes of the drunken patrons, but Arthur certainly does. He stiffens a bit in reaction to the gawking stares. But as soon as you wrap your arms around his bicep and lean in to whisper something in his ear, everyone knows who’s arm you’ll be on tonight.

Arthur knows it’s selfish, but for once, he is the envy of everyone. And his chest proudly puffs out a bit as he escorts you with a swagger in his step through the room to a table.

A waitress brings you and Arthur drinks and you sit comfortably in the corner, nuzzling up on each other, minding your own business. But it doesn’t take long for your privacy to be intruded upon.

“Hey, Arthur! Y/N!” You hear John’s raspy voice cut through the noise of the saloon. Looking up, you see him and Abigail making their way to your table. “See? Told you they’d be here,” he says to Abigail.

You and Arthur are a bit speechless at first, not expecting to see anyone you know tonight. “What are you two doin’ here?” Arthur asks.

“Needed to get Abigail out of camp before she plants a knife in someone,” snickers John as he pulls a chair out for the woman to sit before pulling out a second one for himself and tossing his lean leg over it to settle in next to her.

“Damn idiots, being stupid!” she hisses as she plunks down onto the hard wooden chair. You nod in acknowledgement with a sigh, as you completely understand Abigail’s frustration. And although you are disappointed that your time with Arthur is being interrupted, you are happy to see that John and Abigail are trying to spend a little time together, too and you all proceed to have a drink together.

And soon enough, the doors swing open and in walks Sean, Karen, Lenny, and Charles as well.

Arthur’s head turns when he sees them and you are quick to catch his groan and eye-roll. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath.

With a sigh of resignation, you lean your shoulder into his. “I suppose you’re right, you could never leave the gang and go off on your own. Everywhere you go, they follow.” You nudge your chin in their direction with a slight laugh.

“Oh no, don’t blame me on this. They follow you around just as much as me now,” he teases. “And besides, it’s ‘we’ - we couldn’t go off on our own. It’s you and me, remember?”

“That’s right.” You smile brightly and lift your beer bottle to clink to his in a toast.

“Ah, well would ya look who it is!” exclaims Sean as he wraps his arm around Karen’s shoulders and saunters over to your corner to join the four of you. And before you know it, Lenny and Charles grab a nearby table, dragging it closer to yours and the lot of you settle in for a good time.

The night carries on, with singing, dancing and many drinks to be passed amongst your friends. Lively music fills the air as the amber glow of the oil lamps begins to push back against the encroaching shadows of the setting sun. And all the while, you sit in the corner curled up to Arthur all night.

Abigail observes the two of you together throughout the evening and smiles to herself. She notices that it is the subtle things about the two of you that are so endearing. Arthur comes up behind you, his arm gliding around your waist as you lean back into him. Occasionally his head lowers closer to your cheek and you turn upward, your hand coming up to cup his face as you smile at him. Arthur doesn’t possessively plant kisses all over you in public, but just the slightest turn of his lips towards your temple as you speak. Or it’s his hand on the small of your back as you walk about. Even when he simply pulls your chair out and holds your arm to help you to sit, it is the simplest of loving actions that stand out.

Abigail’s smile widens as her chin sits in her hand. She is so happy for you both, but especially Arthur. He’s been through so much and has been so lonely for so long. She marvels at how different Arthur is now, at how time has changed him. John tries to show his affection in his own way, but nothing as soft and romantic as Arthur. Ironic how Arthur is the larger, more brutish of the two men, yet he is actually the softer of them.

Noticing that more drinks are needed, you head over to the bar to secure another round for your group. You lean on the wooden surface, patiently waiting for the barkeep’s attention when you sense a presence out of the corner of your eye. A man sidles up next to you, standing a little too close for comfort. You can’t help but to notice how his beady eyes rake over you, the smell of whiskey emanating off of him like a cloud.

“Evenin’!” Casting your gaze briefly to your right towards the scraggly voice, you notice the man is greasy and lean. His dark hair is combed back under his hat and he carries himself with a cocky air about him.

You give him a polite but quick, “Good evening.”

“Couldn't help but notice a pretty thing like you in a place like this. You must be new. How much you cost?”

Your lips pull inward, trying not to be offensive in your answer as you feel your face start to burn hot. “I’m not for sale. And even if I was, you couldn’t afford my rate.”

The man’s face drops a bit of its smugness, shifting his weight from hip to hip. “Oh, you’re one of those stuck-up girls, are you?”

“No. Just spoken for, is all.”

“Real shame. I could show you a good time.” The man licks his lips in a disgusting gesture, making your skin crawl. Even Micah is better behaved than this man.

A slow and measured sigh escapes your lips. “I’m already having a good time. With someone else.” Although your words are nice enough, the tone is laced with annoyance.

Meanwhile, Arthur’s eyes never leave you as he is watching very closely how this scene is playing out at the bar. He tunes-out the nonsensical blabbering of Sean sitting next to him as his hand tightens down around the bottle he is holding.

But you’ve decided you've had enough of the cretin’s advances and try to push past the idiot to return to your friends, and more importantly, to Arthur. But the man lays his hand on your shoulder, preventing you from leaving. “Now wait a minute, I ain’t done with you.”

“Oh, but I am done with you.” Your eyebrows raise to accentuate your point. “Now if you will excuse me.”

But he quickly grabs your arm, squeezing harshly. “I said-”

In this split second, time stands still and Arthur’s perception of things slows to a crawl as his vision sees red when your face twists up in pain from the harsh grab of this fool. Arthur springs up from his chair, tossing it backward with the force and a speed that belies his size, and he bolts over to the two of you.

Arthur clamps his massive hand around the man’s wrist with a crushing force, halting him in his tracks and peeling the drunk’s dirty fingers from your arm as he protectively moves you behind him.

“That’s enough. The lady said she ain’t for you.” Arthur steps menacingly toward the man, fists balled and his arm pulls back ready to launch, but he stops short when you place your hand on his forearm as a reminder that you are not supposed to be causing a ruckus while in town. The feeling of your fingers on his skin instantly grounds him, distracting Arthur from the sinister thoughts rolling around in his head.

Reluctantly, Arthur tries his best to calm down before he does something that he’ll regret. “Now you best leave it at that and walk away,” Arthur says, taking a breath.

“She belongs to you?!” the man sneers out as if in surprise.

“She don’t belong to no one, least of all you.”

“Well, if that’s the case, this doesn’t concern you, then. This is between me and the lady.” He waves his hand at you. “So you be the one leave it.”

Arthur takes a deep breath in, Hosea’s warning echoing in his head. “Right now, I need to see the back of your head getting smaller and smaller. Keep in mind that I can make that happen several ways.”

“Arthur, don’t,” you warn. “Don’t waste your time on this stupid fool.” You tug gently on his arm, hoping he will come back to the table with you without incident.

The drunk looks indignantly at you. “Who you callin’ a stupid fool, missy?” He keeps his eyes on you as he addresses Arthur. “You better get your little whore there under control,” lifting his chin in your direction. “Or I’ll have to do it for you.”

That is what lights Arthur’s fuse. “What the hell did you just say to her?” His eyes narrow as he takes another menacing step closer to the man, his shoulders squaring up.

You warily wrap your arm around his waist as another, more pressing physical reminder. “Arthur, you promised.”

“Better listen to the little lady, mister,” the drunk keeps pushing, taunting Arthur even further. “And besides, I’m sure I can take care of her better than you anyway…old man.”

Your eyes widen in shock and the room suddenly goes silent.

“Ah, shit,” John mutters from somewhere behind you. With a sigh, John snuffs out his cigarette and starts to roll up his sleeves. He knows exactly what’s coming next. So much for a relaxing night out.

Arthur’s jaw tightens as his teeth grit painfully together. And yet still, he’s struggling internally not to cross that line. For you.

You are impressed with Arthur’s self-control right now, as he did promise to behave himself tonight. But, you are not going to let anyone talk to Arthur like that.

With a slight nod of acceptance, you lovingly pat Arthur’s chest and carefully withdraw your arm from his waist and take a slow and very pronounced step back from him, effectively releasing your beast upon the saloon.

A menacing smile crosses Arthur’s lips as he realizes that like a once-caged animal, he is now free. The drunk’s face flashes confusion for only a second before Arthur’s fist flies, crashing into his jaw. The man’s body crumples haplessly to the floor, but Arthur is quick to grab him by the collar, landing another crushing blow to his face. And then yet another, causing blood to spatter through the air.

There is a sudden explosion of action all around you. You take several staggering steps backwards out of the way until your back collides with a solid wall of muscle. You gasp in a brief panic. But as you turn, you see that it’s Charles. And he is quick to grab you by the hips and lifts you up to sit on the bar, safely out of the way before heading to Arthur’s side. John is already at the ready, smiling cheekily as he throws punches at anyone that gets into his way.

The saloon quickly erupts into an all-out brawl. Chairs get tossed through the air and tables flip over as angry shouting erupts into the atmosphere. Arthur has already beaten the first idiot senseless and has since taken on two more that ineptly tried to jump him in their friend’s defense.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you watch Arthur’s bloodied knuckles land into yet another man’s ribs, lifting his body clean off the ground with the force of the blow. The poor man’s face contorts as if he is about to throw-up a lung. But he doesn’t have time to, as Arthur quickly heaves the man up and then slams him flat on his back to the floor, knocking him out cold. But Arthur quickly recovers to deliver an upper-cut punch to another approaching brawler, filling the air with the disgusting, gut-wrenching sound of bone cracking.

You cast a quick glance to the corner to check on the safety of your friends to find Lenny and Sean already in the thick of the fight as well. Karen is standing on a chair, cackling and hollering, encouraging the fight, while Abigail has tucked herself safely into a corner.

“Come on, Arthur! Knock his lights out!” hollers Karen, waving her beer bottle towards the surging mob.

While you are preoccupied with your friends’ safety, you are startled back to the action in front of you when a drunk gets thrown into you, his head landing in your lap. You yelp in surprise as you look down and immediately grab a bottle from behind the bar, smashing it on his head. The man is knocked senseless and drops to the floor at your feet.

After about twenty minutes of chaos, the fight ends just as quickly as it began. Arthur stands in the middle of the room, his chest heaving, with men sprawled out in unconscious heaps at his feet. He looks down at his knuckles, annoyed at the cuts and mess, and spits out a bit of blood from his cut lip onto the floor. He and John exchange a grin, an unspoken check that the other one is okay. Arthur then scans the room for Charles and catches sight of him just as he tosses some dimwit to the floor. Sean and Lenny stand next to each other, congratulating the other on a job well-done. All are accounted for and alive. A few new bruises, but thankfully none are worse for wear.

Finally, Arthur’s eyes search for you. He finds you still perched upon the bar. Your eyes are wide in astonishment and your chest rises and falls to catch your panicked breath. Arthur’s lips draw inward in guilt, realizing that he’s broken his promise to you. Shame begins to take hold of him, beating about within his rib cage like a bird in flight.

You are not blind nor indifferent to Arthur’s violent tendencies, but you are always so taken aback when you see it first-hand. He is always so mindful and careful with you. But with others, not so much. Arthur is one of those people where if he likes you, he loves you. If he hates you, heaven help you. And his sheer strength and volatility is a wondrous thing to behold.

Blood thunders in your ears as you stare at him, dumbfounded. Your heart races. And it beats for Arthur. It would bleed for him, too.

And then Arthur witnesses a most incredible thing happening. A smirk begins to blossom across your lips as you hold his gaze. Instead of turning in repulsion from what he’s done, you cock an eyebrow at him as you silently hold your arms out, reaching for him.

Without a word, Arthur walks through the minefield of bodies, stepping over arms and legs that are bent at odd angles. He sets his bruised hands upon your waist and gently lifts you down until your small feet touch the dusty floor. You smile up at him, lifting your thumb to gently swipe away the bit of blood that stains his bruised face.

“Let’s go,” you whisper to him as you tuck your arm around his. He doesn’t say anything, only gives you a slight smile and nods, leading you towards the door.

And as you make your way through the crowd, you pause to stand over that first drunk, the one that started this whole mess. He is still sprawled out unconscious on the floor in a deep crimson pool of his own blood. You look down with a frown and promptly kick him in the ribs before heading to the doors.

As soon as you get outside, the cold air hits you in the face with an exhilarating jolt. Rushing down the few steps of the saloon, you abruptly spin into Arthur’s chest, reaching up to grab fistfuls of his hair as you pull him down to your lips. You hungrily kiss him, your tongue thrust into his mouth and trying to ignore how the taste of his blood from his busted lip excites you even more. When you pry yourself from his face, your bosom heaving with desire, you lock eyes with him. You have never been so riled up in your life.

“We need to get back to our room. Now.”

It only takes a second for Arthur to register the idea. “Right.” And he snatches your hand up into his, dragging you across the dirt street, your feet skipping to keep up with his long strides.

The moment you enter the hotel lobby, you sprint ahead of him, pulling him up the stairs behind you. The two of you bounce off of the walls of the hallway, knocking into meticulously placed picture frames as arms and hands grasp at each other. Lips desperately try to find and land on a patch of skin, any patch will do, in the process.

Reaching the door to your room, Arthur’s attention momentarily leaves you to fumble with the key to the lock, the last obstacle between you and sweet ecstasy. A childish pout graces your face at the loss of his lips on yours, and you are quick to reach up and latch your own to his neck, teeth grazing his beard-stubbled flesh. The moment your teeth sink into his neck, Arthur almost drops the key, a lustful groan involuntarily crossing his lips. His hips reflexively push you against the door for a moment, grinding in an effort to find the sought-after friction he needs. He tastes salty from working up a sweat during the bar fight. And you’ll be working him into a froth before the night is over, for sure. A mumbled chain of expletives drops from his mouth until he can get his fingers to work properly to fit the key into the lock.

He finally manages to free the heavy wooden door from its confines and barrels through the entryway, dragging you with him. You bumble ungracefully into the room which is still warm with the remnants of a fire burning in the small fireplace.

Your lips remain heatedly locked together as your hands make quick work of the buttons of Arthur’s shirt, roughly shoving the fabric back off his shoulders to expose his tanned skin. Your fingertips are already at the buttons of his pants while he is still fumbling with the strings of your dress, his large fingers unable to handle the small knots. Frustrated, Arthur grabs the seams, about ready to pull the damn thing apart and rip it off you when you abruptly stop, pulling back from him and grabbing his face. His eyes shoot open in surprise.

“Don’t you dare rip this dress, Arthur Morgan!” You snap sharply “You already owe me a new dress from the last one you ripped.”

He gives you a frustrated snort, like a bull about to charge, and a scowl of impatience on his handsome face.

A sultry smirk of empathy quickly floats along your face. With your hands placed on his chest, you push Arthur backwards, nibbling on his lips as you do, until his legs touch the edge of the bed. You sweep your foot against his, making him lose his balance as you aggressively push him over. His hat tumbles to the floor as his hands thread behind his head to watch you.

You step back and begin to untie the strings of your dress. You accentuate your movements as the ties become undone and you pull the fabric from your shoulders. You shake your hips a little with a dance as the rest of the dress falls from your supple hips to gather on the floor. Unable to look away from your little show, Arthur draws his hand over his mouth in anticipation. He is literally salivating at the idea of you.

Within moments you are bare as the day you were born and on display for him to take in the view. You pull at the pins holding your hair up and the thick waves tumble down around your graceful shoulders, the tips of the curls dancing across the smooth skin of your breasts. Arthur’s whole body actually shudders, making you smile at the control you have right now.

You stealthily climb over him like a cat stalking its prey, leaving kisses along his abdomen as you crawl along his muscled body. When he runs the back of his knuckles across your cheek, you take a hold of his hand, pausing briefly to assess the damage before placing your delicate lips to the cuts and bruises. You look into his eyes, beholding him with such love and affection.

“Now that you’ve seen what I really am, do you think you'll still keep lovin’ me?” Arthur asks. His question is said both in jest and in earnest.

“I’ve always known what you are, Arthur. I just didn’t realize that you were this beautiful.”

Tears would flood his eyes if he had the time to process what you’ve said. But you quickly pounce before his mind can spiral on you as you place one more heated and deep kiss on his mouth, your teeth pulling on his lips, before you backtrack to hover over his pelvis. He is rock-hard at this point, clearly visible under the denim of his jeans. You fish your hand under the fabric to pull out his large and swollen cock. Caressing it in your hand, you give a few quick pumps before your hot mouth envelops him.

Arthur’s eyes never leave you, raptly watching as you work. The sight of you handling him, of your mouth bobbing around his cock, is the most amazing thing to witness. His mouth falls open and his eyes roll back at the sweet pressure of your lips on his most delicate area, a euphoric mixture of pleasure and pain. Arthur flops back onto the bed, arms wobbly and unable to hold himself up anymore. His large hand comes up to grab a fistful of your soft hair, his palm working open and closed in an effort to pace himself.

You hum as your mouth bobs up and down his shaft and the gentle vibration travels through his skin like electricity, causing him to hiss and groan. Giving Arthur a taste of his own medicine, you pull along his cock faster, tightening the muscles of your mouth to squeeze a bit more, making him harder than ever. Your hand then reaches down to cup his testicles, rolling them gently amongst your soft fingers. Arthur’s breathing becomes increasingly sporadic as his mind is pushed to the limit and about to explode.

When you get to the point where you just can’t prolong your own release any longer, you pull his cock from your mouth with one last lick to the underside of his tip. You walk yourself up on your knees until your hips line up with his. With a wanton little whimper, you lower down onto him, his thick cock filling you to the point where he hits the back wall of your cunt. Your chin dips to your chest as your breath gets sucked in at the ever-tight fit. Likewise, Arthur lets out a hissing groan as his hands shoot upward to grip your thighs tightly.

You pause a moment to collect yourself and then slowly lift your lashes to meet his heated gaze. The outlaw sees his own lustful expression staring back at him in your shimmering eyes and his heart skips a beat because of it. A slow hiss from the back of your throat falls from your shaking lips as you take a moment to try to form coherent words.

Finally, you are able to focus long enough to string together only one thought out loud, which comes out in a husky whisper:

“I am going to ride you like a stolen horse, cowboy.”

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx @namesaretomainstream @miphy @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @loveheartabby @daisybvck

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader smut #photo1030

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sofasoap · 10 months

Text

Little hobby

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: Your secret hobby and past time discovered by your boyfriend.

Warning : M themed. Suggestive. hint of smut. Not beta'ed. A/N: I am sure 99% of us who writes fanfics has this experience.. of hiding our thirst from RL friends and families...

Part 2 of Little Bear series Masterlist

“He kissed her… mmm no that doesn't flow..The lust in his eyes….. Yep. That will work.”

“What ya doing there little bear?"

You let out a mighty scream as you jumped and threw your laptop on the seat beside you. You've been typing away and burning your brain cells for the last few hours, eyes sticking up to the computer screen and scrunching up your nose, so deep in concentration you didn’t even notice your boyfriend had come back in from his night out with the boys.

"JOHNNY!!! Oh my heavens, I was about to have a heart attack!!" puffing and pouting as you scramble to pick up the laptop and quickly slam the lid close.

"Sorry bonnie, I called you a few times but your nose was sticking right against the screen typing away.. you writing a novel?? Can I have a read?" Soap asked as he bent over from the back of the couch, giving you a kiss on the head as he apologised.

"Uh…"

Soap looked at you with a big smile, waiting for you to give him a reply.

How do you tell your dearest boyfriend, that secret little self indulgent hobby that none of your real life acquaintances knows.

Writing fan fictions.

SMUTTY fan fictions to be precise.

There’s no secrets between us. That’s one thing both you and Johnny agree on at the start of the relationship. With him away for work so often, both of you know communication is the key. Open with each other.

Oh what the hell. He’s going to find out someday. Somehow. Your usual mutual friend who you use as beta reader is offline and away for family holiday, and you really want to get your latest chapter posted in the next few hours.

“Please? I promise you I won’t laugh.” How can you say no to those beautiful baby blue eyes, staring at you innocently.

“You promise?” You asked in a shy voice. “And please don’t judge me.” ‘I promise my little teddy bear. Now come on. Tell me what you are writing about?”

Passing the laptop over to him nervously, “Iamwritingasmuttyfanfictionaboutarthurmorgan.”you vomited out the words so fast, you were surprised Soap actually caught most of the words.

“Arthur Morgan? The character from red dead redemption two? What’s a smut anyway?” Soap remembered it from one of the game nights when the team gathered at their place, while Soap, Ghost and Price were playing cards, you sat there with Gaz, who was a huge fan of the series, playing the game while you watched on from the side, and occasionally finding guides online for him when he was stuck at certain point of the game. He didn’t expect you to take on such an interest in the character.

Nodding your head,“It’s um, part of a series I am writing about, um…. I have been trying to get this chapter done for the last few hours,“ Waving your hand towards the laptop, “Just.. Just read it. And um, give me some constructive criticisms and see if you can spot any grammatical mistakes…”

Sitting back, you wrangle both hands nervously as he opens up the laptop, eyes darting left to right, occasionally clicking on the touchpad, typing away to correct things in or raising eyebrows, tilting his head and nodding his head with approval.

After what seems like the longest five minutes of your life, he finally closes the lid of the laptop and sets it aside.

“Well.”

“Well?” scooting closer to him, you urge him to say more.

“Pretty good, didn’t know you had such vivid imaginations there. So tell me,” he leans closer, with a smirk on his face, “those sexy scenes you wrote… keen to try them out?”

Oh. OHH. HoHOho.....

This took an unexpected, but not unwelcoming turn. You didn't end up posting that chapter until two days later. With additional smut scenes added. Inspiration from real life was indeed helpful.

“Good morning Bonnie bear, keen to go for another ride on the cowboy?”

loosely based on my own experience ( minus the smut writing part ) when husband was asking me why I been typing and gluing my eyes on the computer after work for days. and "IAMWRITINGCALLOFDUTYFANFICITION" was all he got out of me.

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 9 months

Text

You're waiting for a train...(3)

Meeting Your Mark

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n knows the most dangerous move you can make is to fall in love with your mark.

word count - 1.7k

warnings - mentions of death, the sharpness of cillians cheekbones, how piercing his blue eyes are.

a/n - okay so I promise the Robert stuff is coming! The next chapter will be an important one, this was just a filler pretty much. Also I loved writing about y/n and Ariadne cause I felt they would both relish in the other when surrounded by men - specifically y/n.

a/n 2 - We finally have Tom Hardy in this chapter!!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I sat on the window ledge, clutching my coffee like a lifeline. It tethered me back to reality. I got out the picture from my jean pocket. I brushed my fingers over the fake braces and then found them stroking the faces of my siblings. Their gleeful smiles frozen in time.

The door creaked open, announcing Arthur’s entrance. I hopped to it and wiped away the tears that had escaped. All morning my mind had been plagued with visions of a man. I wasn’t even dreaming and yet he still remained. He’d nested within my brain, and he wasn’t leaving any time soon. But no matter how much I strained trying to make out the face, I was at a loss. It was almost like I couldn’t create the face because he had already been made. But I was yet to meet him. With how much closer I’d been getting to his figure with each time asleep, I felt our meet was imminent.

“You sleep, okay?”

“Like a log.” Arthur’s eyes drifted to the case I had hurriedly packed up.

“You went under?”

“No.” I lied. But he didn’t breach the topic any further as we were both stopped by Ariadne clearing her throat.

We turned around.

“Cobb said you’d be back.” Arthur remarks.

“Yeah, well, I tried to not come but- “

“There’s nothing quite like it.” I finished for her. She smiled softly at me.

“It’s just—pure creation.” She held her gaze with me. There was a brief silence between us three, waiting for someone to continue the discussion.

“Let’s look at some paradoxical architecture.” Arthur broke the silence and led us both to 3 deck chairs he’d laid out. We lay down and hooked ourselves up. Within seconds we were away.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We found ourselves in a structured glass office building. Arthur winked at me. It was the first building I’d ever created, and he’d saved it all these years. This is where I’d honed my own paradoxical skills. He led the two of us up a staircase.

“You’re gonna have to master a few tricks, if you’re gonna build three complete dream levels.”

“Excuse me,” I said as we passed a woman who had dropped her files.

“Why three?” She asked.

“Successful inception depends on planting the idea deep enough that the genesis of the idea becomes too foggy for the subject. 3 levels deep, 3 dream levels.”

“Anyways, what kind of tricks do I need?’

“In a dream you can cheat architecture into impossible shapes that lets you create closed loops.” We had been walking the staircase in a circle now, proving one of my favourite closed loops. “Like the Penrose steps.”

“Aka, the infinite staircase.” We passed the woman with the dropped files once again. “See.”

Ariadne suddenly took stock of her surroundings and saw the end of the staircase culminate in a sharp drop.

“Paradox.” We left the staircase and began to walk around the office building so Arthur could explain further. “So, a closed loop like that allows us to disguise the boundaries of the dream.”

“But how big do these levels have to be?”

“Well, it could be anything from the floor of a building to an entire city. But they have to be complicated enough so that we can hide from the projections.”

“A maze.”

“Right, a maze.”

“And the better the maze- “

“The longer we have before the projections catch us.” I smirked at how quickly Ariadne had grasped the concept. She truly put my dad to shame. And having her with us meant I no longer had to work with incompetent male architects. This girl was the real deal.

“Exactly.”

“Well, my subconscious seems polite enough.”

Arthur and I chuckled. “Just wait, they’ll turn ugly.” I answered. “No one likes to feel someone messing around in their mind.”

“Cobb can’t build anymore, can he?” Ariadne questioned. I wanted to argue but she was right. He thought about mum too much where his mind could never be clean enough to build anew.

“Well, I don’t know if he can’t, but he won’t. He thinks it’s safer if he doesn’t know the layout.”

“Why?”

“He won’t tell us.” I lowered my head, Dad might not have told me why, but he told me enough.

“But I think it’s Mal.”

“Yeah, no offence but your mum was a piece of work.” She laughed, gesturing to me. “What does his ex-wife have to do with it.”

“Mal’s not his ex.”

“They’re still together?”

“No,” I spoke up. “She died. What you see in there is just his projection of her.”

Her eyes softened when they looked at me. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“What was she like in real life?”

“She was lovely.” I smiled thinking back in my memories.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Ariadne and I sat talking with our coffees and croissants. Arthur had left to get some supplies, so we decided to have a rest. We’d been drawing and planning all morning, so a break was well earned.

“You have an architecture degree?”

“No, I never got to finish it.”

“Why?”

“My dad needed me here. So, I left.”

“Oh.” She sensed the underlying sadness so left the topic. “But your drawings are amazing, why can’t you build.”

“Oh, I don’t build anymore.” I laughed brushing off her statement.

“Does it have something to do with your mom?”

“We all have our own demons, I guess. And it’s terrifying when they get opened up to the world.”

“She’s still your mom.”

“No, she died. That person in his head, that’s not her.”

“Seems you have a better grasp on that then he does.”

“I guess.” I rose, uncomfortable with the conversation, and she took my tone as her cue to end the conversation.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dad had arrived back from Mombasa. When he entered with Eames I immediately ran into his awaiting arms.

“My favourite little troublemaker! How’re you doing darling?”

“So much better now you’re here!” I cheekily winked at him.

“Oh, I can imagine working with Arthur is the most exciting thing imaginable!” Eames sarcastically said.

“Nice to see you too, Eames.” Arthur huffed as he walked away from us two.

“Don’t insult him or he’ll start going over safety procedures again!”

We both laughed and finished with another hug.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I sit with Eames and Cobb out on the roof. Saito flings a file towards the three of us and it opens out onto the table.

“Robert Fischer. Heir to the Fischer Morrow Energy Conglomerate.” Dad looks at the file and then hands it to me.

My breath catches in my throat as my eyes meet his steely blues. The rest of the world became water that flooded my ears with white noise. I couldn’t grasp onto any sound in the world apart from my beating heart. My finger raised to stroke the picture. He stood there, dressed to the nines. His hair perfectly styled, and his body adorned in riches. But his eyes, as piercing as they were, held a sadness. He was lost. I could feel it through the ink.

“What’s your problem with this Mr Fischer?” I snapped up but failed to notice that my daze had been caught.

“That’s not your concern.” Saito’s tone cut through the air. I scoffed at his brazen attitude.

“Mr Saito, this is not your typical corporate espionage. You asked me for inception, I hope you understand the gravity of that request.”

I couldn’t stand it. This may have been purely business and transactional, but something shifted. This couldn’t be purely business with our skills involved. I decided to speak up.

“The seed we plant in this man’s mind will grow into an idea. This idea will come to define him. It may come to change, well, everything about him. This man is on a course of fate and. We. Will. Alter. It.”

Saito took a moment, considering my words. He relented to my warning.

“We’re the last company standing between them, and total energy dominance and we can no longer compete. Soon they’ll control the energy supply of over half the world. In effect, they become a new superpower.” He pounds the table. “The world needs Robert Fischer to change his mind.”

“And that’s where we come in.” Eames perks up to give his two cents. “How is Robert Fischer’s relationship with his father?”

“Rumour is the relationship is quite complicated.” This tugged at my heart for some reason. My eyes drifted to my own father.

“Well, we can’t work based solely on rumour, can we?”

Eames turned his file around the show us a picture of an obviously esteemed individual.

“Can you get me access to this man? Browning, Fischer seniors right hand man,”

I read my own file. “And Fischer juniors godfather.” I finished.

“It should be possible, if you can get the right references.” I chuckled at how simple this request was for Eames.

“References are something of a speciality for me, Mr Saito.” Eames cheekily stated.

“Then it is done.” All three of us got up.

But I felt changed and Eames noticed my subtle slump.

“I saw how you reacted to the picture.”

“What? He has nice—cheekbones? And blue eyes.” I stumbled through my unsure answer.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your dad.” He laughs at my bad attempt at lying. “How do you fancy a quick internship at Fischer’s house.” He raised his eyebrows, inviting me into another mischievous mission. I smirked and happily agreed to his scheme.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

On the other side of the roof, Saito, who had been looking at y/n intently throughout the meeting, stopped Cobb before he left.

“Your daughter. She is committed to this mission?”

“I don’t doubt my teammates.”

“What about your family?” He probed. Cobb became silent. “I saw her demeanour when she saw that picture. I’d hate to see your one chance disappear because of your daughters schoolgirl crush. Perhaps she is not as reliable as you think?”

Cobb halted his movements and considered Saito’s words as the man left the roof. He looked towards y/n who still had the file open in her hands. In that moment, he saw his daughter for who she truly was, a child without a childhood.

Would she be that impulsive?

Would she be that stupid?

Would she risk it all for him?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Yes. Yes I would risk it all for Cillian Murphy too.

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994

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creativepawsworld · 4 months

Text

Silence - Chapter 54

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x OC

Summary = Ana is in labour. Will Tommy return in time for the birth of his child? Will John have to step up and deliver his future niece or nephew?

Warnings = Language...Grammar...Virginity losing mentioned...Alcohol consumption... Prostitution mentioned...Child Birth...

Word Count = 1,874

Note = I know it's dragging and I am so sorry. Hoping to get back in the swing now. Guess am nervous to write after leaving it so long. I liked this chapter as it shows the relationship between John and Ana and I think that's adorable personally. I'm also a C-Section mum who never experienced labour pains so I tried!

“That’s impossible it’s too early John,” I hissed hearing the words he said to Arthur who was still sitting on top of the table confused, by the request. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and, a glass in the other.

“I’ve seen the signs, Ana, I am a father myself. Arthur go now and find Esme too” John demands getting up and walking towards me. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, rubbing it softly in support. “How are you feeling? Is it like a tightening?” He asked softly, a gentle look on his face.

“More like a pressure” I exhale slowly, trying to stand up straight. I was getting nervous, and scared. Not only was it too early but Tommy was nowhere to be found and there was no way I was having this baby unless I knew where Tommy was. I heard a rustling, noticing Arthur's back as he left through the green doors in search of the women of the Shelby family.

“Do you feel like you have to push?” John asked rubbing my shoulders, his voice easy and kind. I knew it was to help me relax but that wasn’t happening right now. I was in no way ready to relax or to have this baby.

“I…I don’t know” I whispered, my hand resting just on the under part of my bump. "I mean maybe, the pressure is all pushing down on me"

“Alright, come on into the house, we need a bed for this” John nodded ushering me back towards the green double doors Arthur had just left through and into the Shelby dining room. But we didn’t stop there. He walked slowly with me through the house, speaking calmly as we made our way up the stairs and into Tommy’s old bedroom.

The green wallpaper and single bed caused memories of the night I lost my virginity to the man I had fallen head over heels in love with in this bedroom to enter my mind. The memory brought a happy, calming feeling to take over but it only lasted a few moments before another contraction hit.

“Now I’ll be honest Ana I haven’t a clue what I am to do now” John chuckled unsure, scratching the back of his head, a nervous look on his face. “But just lay back on the bed, breathe and try to relax”

“I can’t relax, Tommy is missing. How can I relax?” I asked glaring at him as I rubbed my bump. I sat down on the bed, ignoring his advice to lie down. “Where is he, John? The mission was a success. Campbell is dead, no one could have possibly told on him. Where is he? Where did he go?”

“I wish I knew Ana. But we have men out looking for him, I promise we will find him and he will be back in time to meet this new little Shelby” John tried to assure me with a nervous smile on his face.

“And if he is not?”

“We are not going to think of that now, are we? No” John raised an eyebrow looking around Tommy’s old bedroom. It was clear he was uncomfortable being in this situation but he knew he couldn’t leave. If he was right and I was in labour, I couldn’t be left alone. Not when I was this vulnerable.

“John, I’m scared” I confessed my true feelings as I rubbed my stomach, grimacing at the tightening feeling I had every so often.

“Nothing to be scared of, this is exciting. We were successful at the Derby and now we have a new family member to welcome. It's a good day for the Shelby family,” John tried to put a positive spin on the situation, sitting next to me and taking my hand into his. “I know it's hard, but I remember Polly telling me how dangerous stress is to a baby so please Ana, for my little niece or nephew…”

“I know, I know” I nodded squeezing his hand as I tried to relax.

“You know, I almost married Lizzie” John chuckled looking over at me with his blue eyes. They were not as blue as Tommy’s but they were still pretty. Full of life. Full of mischief.

“Lizzie Stark?” I asked furrowing my eyebrows and looking over at him.

“Yeah, Lizzie Stark. Asked her and she accepted and all” John nodded “I wanted a mother for my kids. They were running rings around me. Out in the street without shoes, chasing off nanny after nanny. I couldn’t keep up. I believed a mother would see them right,”

“What happened?”

“Well as you know she was a woman of a particular career choice. She serviced shall I say Tommy and myself. I thought she would do, she was a woman, she gave me bloody good orgasms and she said yes” John chuckled. I couldn’t help but grimace as he mentioned the pleasure he received from her.

“I told the family and they fucking laughed at me. Belly laughs but ultimately they were right” John sighed “Tommy did a test with her. She promised to change her ways but she lied. She was willing to service Tommy one more time even though she said yes to me… She also had other men she was keeping on, I felt like a fool” John looked over at me, squeezing my hand. “You weren’t an option at this point by the way. I don’t think you were anyway. Tommy hadn’t got his claws into you yet”

John’s words made me laugh, his story keeping me occupied as I listened to his words carefully. I didn’t know John was once engaged to Lizzie, I knew she had serviced both brothers but I didn't know she almost married one, that was new.

“I sat on this bed with our Tommy after finding out the truth. Realising Lizzie wouldn’t change,” John chuckled pointing at the chest of drawers near the bed. “He had a pipe there and I got so fucking high to deal with the pain. Not because of Lizzie’s betrayal, I suppose part of me expected that but for the loss of my wife. For the fact my kids were growing up without a mother and I had no control”

“Oh John,” I whispered squeezing his hand. My grip getting tighter as a contradiction rippled through my abdomen.

“Tommy was such a hard ass as you know, he came in gun drawn thinking I was some fucking, some fucking nobody I don’t know. He sat next to me, like I am with you now and we talked about our younger selves. Making jokes, connecting like we used to. He talked about our grandfather, now our grandfather was a right ole stingy git, worked every day of his life but not for honest money. He swindled and stole, apples don’t fall far from a tree you know. Tommy put on the voice he did when we were kids, imitating him, our grandfather,”

“But the reality was we weren’t kids anymore. Not anymore. And that hit hard that night. But that night he promised, our Tommy promised that we’d always look after each other, no matter what. And I want to make that promise with you to Ana” John turned looking at me directly in my eyes, holding my hand “No matter what happens, we have your back, you hear me?”

John’s words had me feeling emotional as I nodded looking at him. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I had lost James but had gained a brother with John and Arthur. A sister with Ada. I had lost my best friend but appeared to have gained three more.

“I know your memories of this bedroom are much, much different than mine” John nudged trying to lighten the conversation once he noticed I was getting emotional. “Eh, eh” He teased playfully causing me to blush. He wanted me to be laughing and smiling, not upset or stressed.

******

John and I remained in the room for the next hour, Arthur had yet to return with either Polly or Esme. I could tell John was beginning to panic at the idea of having to deliver the baby himself, he even considered taking me to the hospital which I refused. I wanted to be here in case Tommy returned. This is where he would go I just knew it.

The contractions were coming thick and they were coming fast. I was in a lot of pain, sweat had covered my forehead. John tried to cool me down with a wet cloth dabbing it along my head, face and neck as he told me stories from his childhood in hopes of distracting me and making me feel better. But the reality was quicker starting to set in. If Polly didn't arrive soon, John would be delivering this baby.

The contractions were coming quicker, almost every few minutes. I could see by John's reaction he was about to pass out. But he held his nerve well. Feeling the need to push, I knew I had to remove my underwear, John closed his eyes as I lay back legs spread, he was preparing himself to look when Polly came rushing through the door.

“GET OUT” She yelled, John not having to be told twice fled from the room no doubt going to sink an entire bottle of the finest whiskey. I believe that may have been the longest hour and a half of his life. “You okay love? How fast are they coming?”

“Too fast Polly, god it hurts” I groaned, Polly removed my underwear. Checking between my legs to get a good look at whether or not the baby was ready to be delivered. As she was checking, the door opened once again and Esme walked in with a small smile.

“A new baby eh?” She smiled coming over to hold my hand.

“Esme I need towels and boiling water now” Polly demanded rubbing my legs. Esme nodded leaving the room to get everything that was needed to deliver the newest member of her family.

“Tommy? Is Tommy here?” I asked breathing heavily, glancing down at Polly who made eye contact between my legs.

“Don’t be worrying about that right now you need to be worried about welcoming the newest Shelby” Polly smiled continuing to rub my legs. “You're very close my dear, very close indeed”

The next few hours passed in a blur. Polly was between my legs, and Esme was at my head coaxing me through it. The breathing, my screaming, the pain, both women were honestly a godsend. After what felt like an eternity, a baby’s cry was heard echoing off the walls of the room.

I had tears of joy and relief spilling from my eyes as I tried to sit up and take a peek. I didn’t have to wait long as Polly brought a baby wrapped in a towel towards me, resting the newborn on my chest. Looking down I noticed a tiny little head, with a mop of dark hair and bright blue watery eyes as they cried softly, looking for food.

“Congratulations Mama, it’s a beautiful baby girl”

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jessicaloons · 10 months

Text

Chapter 2:

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

5. October 2014:

Charles and I sat huddled together on the floor, backs leaned against the sofa. Dad in the armchair on the left, Hervé on the sofa, Arthur rolled up like a cat behind us.

"They shouldn’t race under this conditions, it’s not safe!" Hervé exclaimed and Dad nodded.

"They already stopped it to wait! They just should cancel it…" Dad agreed and Charles shook his head a little.

"It looks like they can still drive on the track, no?" he said and I nodded lightly.

"Yeah, but the sight for the one behind? Look at the spray! You don’t even want to close up the gaps because you don’t see any…" I began as one of the Sauber’s spun off the track and crashed into the barriers.

"Oh shit!" Arthur murmured behind us.

They waved a double yellow flag and Dad and Hervé scoffed.

"They should wave the red flag! There’s a crane next to the track! And why no safety car?"

We watched as the crane lifted up the sauber as a second car veered towards the same run-off area where the crane was and crashed right in it’s left rear wheel, the cameras cutting away from the crash site.

The livery showed exactly what team’s car it was.

"Who is that? Did you see?" Charles sat up abruptly, I saw the number of the car, 17.

"Charles… that is Jules…" I almost whispered as Hervé turned the TV volume up to listen to the broadcast properly.

I turned to look at Charles who paled and stiffened, then I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, he slowly turned to me, we both heard how the commentators said that Jules didn’t respond to his radio, and for the first time since I knew Charles, I saw something new flicker in his eyes: fear.

17. July 2015:

"Ok, calm down!" I tried to level Charles hot head but he just threw his helmet on the ground.

"He pushed me! Twice! Because of him I lost 3 positions! How was I supposed to get back up their in one lap?" he was fuming, understandably so.

"I know, but when you’re like this, it won’t help! You need to calm down!" I tried to reason with him, but he just scoffed.

"Calm down? Lizzie! He’s supposed to be our fucking teammate! But he always pulls shit like that? The last 3 races where all fucked up by him! I can’t afford to DNF that many times! I need good results!" he hissed and unzipped his suit.

"Charles, I know that all! But he is our teammate! You think you can’t effort some DNFs? We’ll think about being kicked out! So please! Calm down!" I grabbed him by his shoulders and he looked at me.

"He‘s still a little fucker!" he pouted.

"That he is!" I answered und hugged him.

"I just need to show the sponsors that I’m good and have potential! It’s so important!" he whispered and I sighed.

With two sons in motorsport, money ran out and Charles’ parents had to decide that for now they could only finance one career. Charles continued, as the older one and with having slightly more potential than Arthur, it was decided. Charles hated it and promised Arthur he would give his all to impress some sponsors and hopefully be able to get him back into karting and more.

But right now, it didn’t look too good as one of our teammates, Martin, was more than reckless and didn’t gave a shit whenever he kicked someone out of the race.

"I just want to leave." he stated and looked for his stuff, threw all his belongings in his backpack and then looked at me. I sighed and packed my stuff up as well.

"Let’s go, Charlie bear." I said and pushed him as he just groaned.

"You know how much I hate it when you call me that!" he glared at me.

"You secretly love it, just admit it!" I said and gave him my sweetest smile as he rolled his eyes.

"I just need to think of a name for you that you hate!" he said and we walked out where my brother was waiting for us, alone.

"Where’s the rest?" I asked him and Charles looked up from his phone and dropped it, paling instantly.

"I’m so sorry Charles. Your parents are already on their way, Mum and Dad are on their way and picking up Arthur, we’ll meet them in the hospital." my brother said it quietly and approached Charles then pulled him into his arms. I bent down, picking up Charles’ phone and saw the message from Lorenzo "Jules est mort" Jules died. We all knew that it didn’t look good, his condition had deteriorated. But still. He was there in some way. But now he was gone.

I stood there and didn’t know what to do, what to say. Over the last few years Jules became like another older brother to me, although our relationship never even close got to the connection that Charles and Jules had. Marcus released Charles and he stood there, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. I grabbed his hand and intertwined our fingers, then we followed my brother to the car.

The drive to Nice was quiet. No one spoke, no music was played. I sat next to Charles in the backseat and held his hand. He didn’t move once, he just stared out the window. As we parked in front of the hospital, Marcus called Dad and a couple of minutes later my parents parked next to us, as they got out the car I saw how Mum slung an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. His eyes glassy, nose red. My Dad hugged Charles instantly.

"We’re waiting here for you. Just close family and friends. We don’t want to interrupt." my Dad explained and Charles nodded, Mum gave Arthur a kiss on his cheek and then did the same with Charles.

I stood next to Marcus who pulled me to his side and kissed my temple. As they started walking away Charles looked up and turned around, he looked at me.

"Can you come with me? Please, ma belle?" he said and stretched his hand out, I nodded and hastily stepped up and took his hand.

"Thank you." he whisperd and we walked into the hospital.

The funeral reception was attended by almost the entire F1 grid and some big names of the motorsports community. Even TV crews were around and I hated how they zoomed in on Charles and his family, rude reporters were yelling questions their way. During the whole morning, on the way to church, inside and on our way out, I held Charles hand and never let go once. Whenever I saw that it all overwhelmed him I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and as he looked up I smiled encouraging. When we were sitting on his bed in the evening, tired and exhausted, he looked at me for some time and I cocked an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked quietly.

"How did you do it?" he asked and I looked at him confused "How did you manage to be so… so put together? He was important to you too! But you were just so… why weren’t you crying?" his voice was hoarse but it almost sounded accusatory.

"Don’t say it like that! Don’t think I didn’t cry! But I just… I wanted to be strong for you! I wanted to be there for you! I know how important he was to you! How much you loved him! And I was just… we were not like you…" I whispered as a tear slipped down my face and Charles looked heartbroken.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, ma belle! I just… you were so strong! I just didn’t know how you could be so strong when I was just so… I’m sorry! I’m sorry, that you thought you had to be strong for me and couldn’t just… ahhh I’m losing my English!" he said it with more and more frustration. Then he pulled me in his arms "I don’t know what I did to deserve you! I’m sorry that you thought you had to be strong for me! And I’m sorry for not being there for you, like you were for me!" he whispered and I hugged him tight.

"We’re always there for each other! You and me together!"

"You and me against the world!"

"Always!"

The weeks after Jules death weren’t easy for Charles, he was getting more and more frustrated with the situation within the team, or more with Martin. It was one week in September where the tension in the team got to a point where our coaches and supervisors finally had enough and sat Martin and Charles down and for some reason I had to participate too in this crisis meeting, not really knowing why.

"Why is Lizzie here? She has nothing to do with this!" Charles asked what I wanted to know.

"She’s here because she’s always caught in between you two! Last race she lost 3 positions because you two were fighting each other and made contact with her! And she’s here for you Charles, because when she’s around your attitude changes for the better!" Matthieu said and I rolled my eyes, while Martin just grinned.

"Wipe that grin out of your face! You’re the reason we’re here in the first place! Why the fuck can’t you be a team player?" I was furious.

"Lizzie!" Matthieu groaned.

"No Matthieu! It’s the truth! Since we’re racing for you, has there ever been a problem? No! He joins the team, behaves like an ass from day one, acts like he’s the king and we have to bow! Pushes us off the track and says then afterwards it was the adrenaline! He didn’t see us? Or we were in his line? It’s unfair!" I had to contain myself to not scream. Charles grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed it.

"I think what Lizzie wanted to say, is that we never fought that hard within our own team, but you for some reason think we have to make way for you on the track! But we don’t, especially when we’re in front and you can’t pass us and the only way for you is to push us off!" Charles said, trying to sound calm but firm.

"I don’t see a problem, I’m obviously better than you! And I’m not making way for you or your little girlfriend, Leclerc!" Martin spat and Charles slammed his fist on the table.

“You don’t have to make way for me or my little girlfriend, BECAUSE WE ARE ALWAYS IN FRONT OF YOU!!!" Charles was furious and I could see that it wouldn’t take much for him to lose his temper completely.

"Yeah, sure Leclerc! Matthieu, I don’t care about them, I’m here to show that I am the best, that’s why a team from GP3 will approach me soon and then I don’t even care what you’re doing… Lizzie you won’t make it into any higher league, Leclerc.. well we’ll see." he sneered and I took a deep breath, I actually didn’t wanted to say it already, but I was fuming.

"Just so you know, Martin, I was approached by the Art Grand Prix Team and I will drive for them in GP3 next year…" I said and Martin’s eyes widened. Charles next to me inhaled sharply and I looked at him apologising but he just grinned.

"Yep and I will be her teammate next year… so, you were saying?" Charles smirked at Martin who got up and left.

"What just happened?" I looked at Charles who just pulled me into a hug.

"I didn’t wanted to tell you, because you haven’t heard something and I… I don’t know I just wanted to wait until you also got a seat!" Charles mumbled and I laughed relieved.

"Same! I was waiting for you getting a seat!" I answered and Charles chuckled.

We both then congratulated us at the same time and we laughed even more. Matthieu cleared his throat and we looked sheepishly at him.

"I’m so proud of you both! When they called and asked some questions about you I just knew that they would approach you both! You will be missed!" he said and got up and hugged us.

"But what are we doing now with Martin?" I asked and he shook his head.

"I’ll handle him, don’t worry! We’re only having a handful of races left for the season, we’ll deal with him!" he said and laughed.

Charles and I left and walked to where our parents were.

"So, GP3 next year?" I asked.

"GP3 next year, F2 the year after!" Charles answered and I just laughed and he pulled me into his side "You and me, against the world, Lizzie!"

"Always!" I replied and he smiled at me. And not for the first time I felt butterflies doing summersaults in my stomach.

"I swear to god, if I break any bones because of you, Leclerc, you’re a dead man walking!" I yelled and Charles only shook his head and breezed away on his ski’s. I leaned forwards and quickly caught up to him "We’re dead if they find out where we are!"

"Oh come on! It’s not our first time on a black slope!" he yelled back and accelerated and I followed him.

"But this is an orange one!" I yelled and passed him easily on my snowboard, then raced down the slope. As I arrived in the valley and waited for Charles I saw Lorenzo and Marcus talking to some girls, thankfully they hadn’t seen me and as soon as Charles arrived next to me I ushered him away.

"Why are we hiding behind the ski lift?" Charles asked taking his shades off.

"Because our brothers are there! When they see that we’re here instead of the slope we told our parents we would be, they’ll snitch on us or use it as leverage!" I answered and he nodded.

"Good thinking, Doetterer!" he said and I peered around the corner.

"They’re leaving!" I said and Charles nodded. "Let’s go back to the château, we’re already late!“

We stood together on the patio, everyone with a glass of champagne in hand.

"10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!" we were all cheering as the fireworks down in the village started. Charles pulled me close and hugged me.

"This is going to be our year, ma belle! We show the world that we’ll make it into F1, just like Max did!" he whispered and then kissed my cheek.

"You and me against the world." I whispered, trying to ignore the heat that spread on my face from his kiss.

"Always!" Charles replied and hugged me even tighter.

"Look at our two lovebirds… I think we really can start with the planning of their wedding!" Pascale said quietly to the others who all watched us.

"These two idiots are so oblivious! They will need years to realise that they’ve always belonged together!" Dad shrugged and they all started laughing, startling Charles and me and we looked over to our families, who were pretending to not notice us watching them.

"What does that mean exactly?" I asked in Italian and Charles next to me smiled proudly at me, for the past years he did his best to teach me Italian.

"You will basically be kind of our test and development drivers, drive for Haas or Sauber in some FP sessions, work in the simulator, be contracted to us for a considerable time." Massimo said and Charles looked at me, then our Dad's.

"Contracted to Ferrari?" my Dad asked and I’m jealous that his Italian sounds flawless.

"Yes, if the opportunity arises a promotion to Formula 1 might be possible in the future!” Massimo answered and I looked at Charles with big eyes.

"Surely you mean into a Ferrari powered partner team for the beginning?” Dad stated and Massimo nodded.

"Of course! A seat in Ferrari must be well earned and as a rookie it’s not easy to secure a seat at a top team! That’s why we have with Haas and Sauber our partnered teams!" Massimo said, Dad and Hervé looked satisfied.

"So? What do you say? Will you join the Ferrari Driver Academy?" he asked me and Charles and we looked at each other, then smiled.

"Where do we sign?" we both said in unison and Massimo handed us some documents and a pen each.

"He would be so proud of you, you know?" I whispered and Charles looked up "Starting in GP3, now a member of the Ferrari Driver Academy!"

"He would be proud of both of us…" he answered and I smiled. We sat together on the balcony of our hotel room, watching the setting sun "When will you leave?"

"Our flight is in the morning, Mum insist that I come home for the tutoring sessions…" I mumbled and Charles laughed quietly.

"Come on, only a couple more weeks and then you’re done!" he encouraged me and I nodded.

"I can’t wait for it to be over! I get it, she wanted me to graduate school, but I honestly don’t even know what I would do other than racing!" I answered and Charles chuckled as Dad stepped onto the balcony.

"You guys ready?" he asked and I nodded.

"Let’s go!" Charles said and got up "Pasta time!"

"Pizza and Pasta time!" I said and we followed our dads to our car.

At the famous Ristorante Montana we were greeted not only by Massimo, but also Sebastian and Maurizio Arrivabene.

"Lizzie! It’s so good to see you!" Sebastian said and hugged me "Charles, good to see you too!" he patted Charles back and then greeted our Dads.

"So you’re the future of Ferrari?" Arrivabene said and Charles and I got caught off guard "I’m just messing with you, I mean not entirely! We expect great things from you! But for now, let’s enjoy tonight and in the next weeks we will see what to do with you!"

With that said we had an amazing evening together. Talking about the upcoming races in GP3, some races we could attempt later in the year. Meeting Ferraris second driver Kimi Räikkönen, Ferraris last world champion. As we said our goodbyes and got back in the car Charles and I could only smile from ear to ear.

"Oh come one, Lizzie! It’s just 4 days!" Charles whispered and hugged me tighter.

"That’s not the point! I just don’t want to go home and have 3 days full of tutoring! Can’t we start celebrating on Saturday? 3 day bash for an 18th birthday?" I answered and Charles laughed.

"Nope! You’re coming on Monday and then we’ll celebrate!" he just said and I only nodded, hugged Hervé goodbye and together with Dad I went through the security check.

"Little owl, you should smile! You’re starting in GP3 in 2 weeks, you’re now a member of the FDA, you’re turning 18 on Monday! Cheer up, would ya!" Dad tried to brighten my mood and I shrugged my shoulders "I know you don’t like tutoring, but it’s only a handful of days and then you’ll have your exams and you’re done with school!” the thought of that made me smile.

He was right. Good things were about to happen…

————————————————————————

Little Note:

That’s it, chapter 2 is out - a bit sad, but it’s a part of Charles’ life, therefore part of Lizzie’s 😔. But Chapter 3 is going to be a really funny one! And for the first time we’ll have a little bit of Charles' POV…

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I’m dying to hear your thoughts! I’m open to any criticism, bad or good, it doesn’t matter!

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Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please forgive me any mistakes I made!

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