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blurredcolour · 3 months

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I. "Do You Trust Me?"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

A slight against one of your dearest friends causes you to act wildly out of character, and Bucky finds himself stepping up to save you as he realizes just what you mean to him after months of seemingly innocuous encounters.

Warnings: Language, Period Typical Sexism, References to Cheating, Reader Knees a Man in the Groin, Perceived Threats of Violence, Plenty of Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author’s Note: Well here we are, watching me write for this show before it's fully aired. Blame/credit to @precious-little-scoundrel and her anon for infecting my brain. Reader has an unnamed brother for sake of plot, no descriptions or y/n used. Events of this fic take place a few days before the horrific Regensburg mission. Also I recognize that WACs did not arrive in the ETO until July of 1943, this fact does not seem to have influenced Hanks/Spielberg so I shan't let it influence me either. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4217

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The pub was crowded, as usual, and Bucky leaned back in his chair as Curt regaled their table with another one of his stories from Walla Walla. The press of uniform clad bodies, damp from the summer rain outside, created a humid atmosphere. But as he tipped the last few drops of Scotch whisky from his glass into his mouth, he was certain there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Buck had decided to sit this one out, wanting to catch up on his latest letter to Marge. His mouth ticked up at the corners as he reflected once again on how different he and his friend were from one another. Glancing at the bar while he contemplated fetching the next round, Bucky’s eyes widened as they fell on the last person he would ever expect to see in a pub. It took him a moment to recognize you in such an unusual environment, hair perfectly styled. He noted that you were even wearing makeup as your teeth sank into your brightly painted lower lip, wending your way through the crowd, clearly on a mission.

“Bucky are you even listening?” Curt chided with a sharp jab of his elbow into his upper arm.

“Yeah absolutely,” He nodded firmly, unable to take his eyes off you, “every word.” He tacked on as his gaze followed you across the room on your approach to the notorious flirt from 349th squadron, Arthur “Red” Jameson.

He was vaguely aware of the doubtful scoff his reply had earned as his eyes narrowed. Wasn’t your friend Mary rather serious about Red? Not that Red bothered limiting himself to any one woman, local or American – there were few limits that smug redhead put on his relations with the fairer sex. Perhaps that was why Bucky was feeling particularly annoyed with how close you had come to stand next to him at the bar. With the way you were smiling at him. You hardly ever smiled, had to be one of the most serious, reserved women he had ever encountered here in England or back home.

It was when you ducked your head to peer up at Red through your lashes that the realization hit him – you were fucking flirting with him. His fingers clenched tightly on his empty glass, fingertips blanched white as the strength of his grip drove the blood from the flesh there. A slow, knowing smile unfurled across Red’s face as he leaned in, his hand landing on your shoulder making Bucky’s teeth grind together almost painfully as he was flooded with proprietary rage.

The intensity of it startled him, made him take a sharp breath and relax his grip on the glass. Where in the hell had that come from?! The pair of you had spoken no more than a handful of times, simple interactions in the Operations Room of the Control Tower back when he was Air Exec, around the base, or most recently, that afternoon when you had lent him a copy of one of his favorite books, but it wasn’t like you were close. You were quiet, overshadowed by your boisterous friends Mary, Ruth, and that brunette whose name escaped him just then. They were always outgoing at dances while you did an excellent job of decorating the wall. It certainly was not like you were anything more than colleagues. Objectively that was the truth, however, as Bucky sat there watching you grin at that man…

The final straw came as your lips nearly brushed against Red’s ear, making that bastard’s eyes shoot wide, sending Bucky surging to his feet. He narrowly missed one of the low beams overhead as he glared across the crowded room at the cozy pair you and Red presented at the bar.

“Jesus Christ Bucky, did something jump up and bite your ass?!” Curt barked in surprise, the rest of the table laughing loudly in response.

Bucky barely heard them as his new vantage point allowed him a clear view of your knee colliding painfully with the apex of Red’s thighs, causing him to crumple against the bar as you bolted out the back door. Bucky stared after you, just as bewildered as Red’s friends, before they charged out the door in your wake.

“God dammit.” He muttered under his breath before climbing over his friends to make a dash for the front entrance of the pub, his cap clutched in his hand.

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Your Women’s Auxiliary Army Corp unit had arrived at Thorpe Abbots in late May, part of the first battalion of WAACs sent overseas. Assigned to the Eight Air Force, you had spent roughly a week with your British counterparts of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force observing missions on other bases before it had come time to establish the base for the 100th.

Fast, accurate typing skills and a calm, quiet temperament had seen you promptly assigned as a clerk in the Operations Room, one of the tensest and most chaotic places on the entire base. Upon your arrival at training camp in Fort Des Moines, you had been adopted by a trio of far more outgoing women – Mary from Miami, a sun-kissed blonde who managed to look that way no matter what the weather; Ruth from Pittsburgh, a black-haired beauty who was manufactured from the steel her hometown was known for; and Violet from Savannah, a brunette who elongated every vowel like the southern belle she was.

Why they chose to waste any of their precious time on you was as much as mystery to you in England as it had been in Iowa, and yet any time you tried to convince them you would be perfectly happy sitting out a dance in your barracks with a book instead, they were adamant you attend. Bodily removed you from your cot to join them – not that you were one for dancing, even with the most handsome of airmen. And that title would most certainly have to be bestowed upon Major John Egan. Perhaps a bit of a rogue and more-often-than-not a little too deep into his cups, there was something undeniably charming about him. A magnetism that drew every woman on the base, and from across all of East Anglia, to him. The handsome devil knew it, too. Of course he did, that was, alas, also part of his charm.

Your trio of outgoing friends had gravitated toward him immediately, traded their fair share of coy looks and dances with him while you looked on quietly from the sidelines. He never really seemed to form that deep a connection with any of them, with any woman for that matter, but that did not deter the female population from trying to be the one to catch his eye for a bit of fun. It was during the long hours of the 100th’s first mission, while he was still serving as Air Exec, that you’d had your first occasion to speak to the man directly.

In the middle of one of the tense periods of waiting for news, he had poked his head into the office to see if anything had come across the teletype or wireless and you had looked up, meeting his eye. He was wearing his sheepskin coat, a striking combination of ivory and cognac colored leather that would have honestly looked absurd on anyone else, yet on him just seemed to belong over his dress uniform.

“Can I help you, Major Egan?” You had asked, fingers poised above your typewriter as you paused your progress in typing up a report for Colonel Huglin.

He had looked at you, startled a moment. “I was convinced you might actually be unable to speak. Glad to know I was wrong. It’s Bucky by the way. Just checking if there were any updates?”

“We’ll be sure to get them to you as soon as we have them, sir.” You had replied professionally, trying to ignore the warmth unfurling beneath your breastbone at having his attention directly solely upon you.

“That’s all I can ask then, thank you.” He had winked before slipping out of the room and heading back towards the plotting map.

It had not taken long for a series of updates to arrive, both by radio and over the teletype and being the highest-ranking clerk in the office, third officer, it was your duty to run them out to him. Grabbing both sheets of paper, you had quickly made your way across the room, startled to find him striding towards you, meeting you halfway. “Here you are Major Egan.”

“Touchdown.” He had grinned and taken them over to review with the others as you had hurried back to your office, gnawing on the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

You had been admittedly saddened when he had been demoted to squadron commander of the 418th after Colonel Harding assumed command of 100th. For selfish reasons, certainly – your interactions had become increasingly limited after this point – but also because it meant he was more frequently put into harm’s way. Every time he went up in a fort, you found focusing on the job at hand more and more difficult. Unlike the ground crews or the brass, it was not looked upon kindly for the WACs to go running outside to see which forts had come back. Which airmen were injured. Sometimes it would take hours for you to confirm that he was all right, and only then by way of hearsay.

You had still run into Major Egan from time to time, while walking with your group of friends to the WAC mess for dinner – by mid-July you were now serving in the Women’s Army Corp as a 2nd Lieutenant, or after meetings in the Operations Room when he was not flying missions. But the longest conversation you ever had was during one of your breaks earlier that very afternoon. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day, and with no mission in progress you had decided to take your coffee break outside, behind the control tower, sitting on one of the benches the ground crew had built out of scrap wood.

Before you had enlisted, your brother had bought you a copy of his favorite book, one he had never let you read before because you were ‘just a kid’ but now that you were old enough to sign up for the service yourself, he had decided you could have your own copy. With just two pages left, it seemed the perfect way to break up the morbid tallies you had been typing up in the grim office upstairs, and you had just finished the final sentence when a shadow fell over you.

“Now how did you get a copy of my favorite book?”

You had lifted your eyes quickly, squinting slightly into the bright sun that shone from behind him, to see Major Egan standing there.

“Major Egan. You like Guys and Dolls, sir?” You had asked, startled.

“How many times do I gotta tell you it’s Bucky.” He had stepped out of the sunlight to sit beside you carefully. “I love everything by Damon Runyon. Which story did you like the best?” He had leaned in curiously.

Pursing your lips to think over the collection of stories you had just finished, you smiled briefly as the answer came to you. “’Madame La Gimp.’ Where they pass off the bag lady –”

“As a society matron! Yes!” Major Egan chimed in, laughing as he nodded in agreement.

“What…about yours?” You had swallowed, unable to stop yourself.

“God, I haven’t read this book in forever…” he had reached out for it, and you had set it in his hands easily.

He had sucked his teeth in thought as he turned it over in his broad hands. “It’s gotta be a tie between ‘Blood Pressure’ and ‘Hold ‘Em Yale’…ah but ‘Lemon Drop Kid’ is excellent, too.” As he had spoken, he had begun to gesture with the book to emphasize his words, making you press your lips together fondly.

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” You had blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Give me a definitive answer once you’ve read it again.”

Major Egan had looked to you quickly. “Really? But what if…how will I know to get it back to you?” He had raised an eyebrow.

“My name’s on the front page.” You had nodded reassuringly but swallowed tightly as he opened the cover as if to confirm it for himself.

“‘Hey Sis,’” He had begun to read the inscription he found there, bringing your brother’s words to life, “‘lighten up, would you? You don’t have to be so damned serious all the time. See you on the other side.’” He had paused a moment before his eyes had met yours, caught you watching him, before you quickly looked down at the grass at your feet. “Where is he?” he had asked quietly.

“On a ship in the Pacific, somewhere.” You had replied softly, finding each blade of grass infinitely fascinating.

“Are you sure–” He had begun to ask before the sound of your name being called by your very impatient Captain, a woman even Major Egan knew not to waylay, interrupted the peaceful afternoon.

You had leapt to your feet. “You’ll get it back to me.” You had nodded and rushed back inside, believing every word of it.

You had seriously contemplated sharing your encounter with at least Ruth, the more level-headed of your friends, knowing she was the least likely to conflate the exchange with a marriage proposal. But as you returned to your barracks that night, you frowned deeply to find Mary in tears on her cot. After much soothing and rocking in your arms, she finally managed to open up, sharing what had gotten her so upset.

“It’s Red…I caught him out back necking with one of those doughnut truck girls…” She hiccupped and dabbed at her nose with her hanky.

“Oh Mary, I’m so sorry.” You frowned, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I let that creep talk me into sleeping with him!” She wailed, fresh tears boiling over onto her cheeks as she sagged onto your shoulder, sobbing anew.

Every muscle in your body tensed as her outburst sunk in, the depth of his betrayal fully registering as Vi and Ruth returned from the end of their shifts in the weather office and Mary launched herself into their arms to fill them in as well. The level of pure fury that seized your body was utterly foreign to you and, unlike the descriptions you had encountered in literature to date, felt utterly icy in your veins. As your friends gently coaxed Mary to the latrines to get herself cleaned up, you hung back, a plan formulating quickly in your mind. Your life without these women would have been lonely, all but intolerable, and this transgression against one of them could not go unanswered. You could not look at yourself in the mirror if you did nothing.

Digging quickly through Mary’s belongings, you found her most alluring shade of lipstick, carefully but efficiently applying it to your lips before unpinning and redoing your hair into a more fashionable shape rather than the more utilitarian style you normally wore. Lastly you added a flick of mascara to your eyelashes and rouge to your cheeks. All this was accomplished using the tiny mirror Vi had set up on the shelf beside her bed. Nodding once in satisfaction, for it was truly the best you could do in a solo effort, you darted out the door, lipstick tube in your pocket for reapplications, if necessary. The cad would never see it coming from you, you just needed to figure out a way to get close enough.

Fortunately, the years you had spent on the sidelines watching the three masters of feminine wiles at work had afforded you quite the education. It was only a matter of finding the perpetrator to enact your revenge. You located him in the second pub you visited, taking a slow breath as your eyes sought him out in the crowded, humid space. The rain had thankfully stopped before your foray out into the night, though the streets remained wet, and you had taken the time to refresh your lipstick and tidy your hair before stepping inside. Your heart began to race as your veins flooded with adrenaline.

‘Easy now. Slow and smooth like Mary, give him that flirty smile she’s famous for.’ You thought to yourself.

As his eyes met yours it was all you could do not to wince back in disgust – you were going to need to hide your dislike better.

‘Pretend he’s someone else. Who would you like him to be?’

You gulped shyly, teeth sinking into your lip at the thought of applying these skills to Major Egan, noting that Red seemed immediately more receptive as you slid up beside him where he stood at the bar.

“Evening, Red.” You smiled at him broadly, swallowing nervously as he echoed the expression warmly.

“Well good evening to you too. You escaped the base.” Red teased you.

You faked a giggle and tilted your head down before flicking your eyes to look up at him through your lashes, something Vi had weaponised to great effect on many an occasion. You tried not to shout in triumph as Red’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, leaning in closer.

“Can I buy you a drink, sugar?”

“Actually…” You smiled coyly before leaning in close to his ear, taking a slow breath before dropping all pretense from your tone. “Mess around with one of my friends again and I’ll cut it off.” You snarled into his ear before driving your knee into his groin as sharply as the straight lines of your uniform skirt would allow, slipping out of his grip as he slouched over the bar with a cry of pain.

You longed to bask in his suffering, in your triumph, but you also recognized you had to get out of there before the consequences of your actions found you. Spying a door propped open to a back alley over Red’s crumpled torso, you made a dash through the stunned corner of the pub and out into the night, pausing a moment before turning to the left, hoping it was the correct direction. You certainly wished you knew your way around town a little better.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were worried it might burst through the front of your WAC jacket as you neared the main street but there was an increasing ruckus behind you – surely Red’s friends in hot pursuit. Suddenly Major Egan appeared in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere, and grabbed your arm, pulling you around a corner and down a smaller alleyway.

“Do you trust me?” He asked quickly, glancing back towards the approaching sound of voices as he shuffled you backward, closer to the brick wall of the building behind you.

You nodded at him, speechless, breathing heavily from your flight. Your uniform cap felt precarious where it was perched on your rapidly falling hairstyle. Major Egan’s aftershave was flooding your senses due to his sheer proximity.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered as his eyes met yours, his own cap at a dangerous angle atop his dark curls, defying gravity.

He shifted forward to crowd your space, your eyes shooting wide as his forearms lifted to press against the wall on either side of your face, body shielding you from view. He bowed his head to press his lips against yours softly, making your eyelids flutter closed, doing nothing to slow the erratic beating of your heart. He tasted a little bit like whiskey, which had reminded you of gasoline the few times you’d had the misfortune of sipping it, but on his plush lips, it was not so bad.

Your hands balled into fists in the olive drab fabric of your skirt, heat painting its way across your cheeks and down your neck as the coarse hair that decorated his upper lip brushed against your skin. It was all too tempting to lose yourself in the feeling of him surrounding you, protecting you, kissing you. Reality reared its ugly head, making you inhale sharply through your nose as you heard the crowd of men stampede right past you muttering angrily.

“That damn cold fish from operations…”

“Who the fuck does she think she is?!”

“No wonder she ain’t got nobody.”

Pulling back from his lips, you frowned down at your brown uniform shoes, still hidden within the cage of his arms.

“Hey…” He murmured, bowing his head to nudge your nose with his, drawing your gaze back up as you swallowed shyly at the tender gesture. “Don’t listen to ‘em.” He urged you, his blue eyes so very dazzling and disarming at this range, even in the dim light of black-out conditions.

“I…It’s ok,” you breathed as you shook your head. “I know I’ll never be…” you furrowed your brow, not even sure what word you were searching for.

“Anything other than perfect, doll?” His lopsided grin was devastating, made it hard to breathe, though that may have also been his continued proximity. He leaned in for another kiss, but you lifted a shaky hand to press against his shoulder.

“Th…they’re gone you don’t have to pretend…” You murmured sadly, shifting to stand, but he did not move an inch, his breath brushing against your cheeks.

“I’m going to kiss you now because I want to, doll.” He murmured, eyes tracing over your face while giving you a moment to respond.

You were, however, frozen, staring at him again and so he pressed his lips firmly to yours, making your fingers curl slightly around the lapel of his uniform jacket. He hummed softly in response, pressing you back against the wall as he slanted his mouth tighter to yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. Shivering at the heat of his palms against your skin, you slowly lifted your other hand from your skirt, stretching it towards him, letting it hover between you tentatively.

He dropped his right hand from your cheek to guide your arm around his waist before sliding his own hand to splay against your lower back, drawing a whimper from your throat as you arched slightly.

He pulled back from your lips, chest heaving. “Christ, doll, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Bucky?” You whispered, confused by his statement, finding it difficult to think clearly.

Bucky groaned and kissed you fiercely, licking at the seam of your lips, sliding his tongue to yours the instant you parted your lips for him. Toes curling in your shoes, you found yourself mewling into his mouth wantonly until he wrenched back suddenly, hand cupping the back of your head as he hugged you tightly into his chest. The sound of voices eventually registered in your addled brain – Red’s friends returning from their failed attempt to find you.

“If I had known all I had to do was kiss you senseless to get you to use my name…” Bucky teased once the coast was clear, panting into your hair.

You giggled against his throat, your own chest heaving as he loosened his hold on you. Your cap tumbled to the ground, fully dislodged by his attentions.

“It’s a burden I’m willing to bear.” He smirked, pressing his lips to your exposed forehead. “Let’s get you back to your barracks. What are you doing out here all dolled up kneeing idiots like Red in the goods anyway?” He asked as he bent to retrieve your cap, dusting it off and placing it in your outstretched hand before turning to slide his arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the main road.

You huffed with a frown as you walked with him, putting your cover back into place snuggly, crushing your once-stylish hair. “I didn’t appreciate the way he treated Mary.”

Bucky smirked at you “Your brother is right you know, you really do need to lighten up…you can just call him a good-for-nothing and be done with it. No need to write a formal treatise on his behavior.”

His lips stretched into a grin as that pulled another laugh from you. You turned to look at him properly and gasped.

“Bucky you have lipstick all over –”

“Perfect” He nodded proudly, cocky grin on his lips, and made no move to clean up his face, while you quickly wiped at yours, knowing you would have to face your barrack-mates. “Next time you go on an attack mission you let me know, alright, doll? I’ll fly on your wing anytime.” He winked at you, and you bit your lip shyly.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You swallowed and stopped walking, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek softly.

As you pulled back, Bucky flexed the arm he still had slung about your shoulders, hauling you in for another heart-stopping kiss, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You had a feeling that the rather lengthy walk back to base was only going to become exponentially longer and found you really did not mind at all.

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Read Part Two - "Just Had To Trust You."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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tomorrcwz · 3 months

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★ . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒, 𝐀𝐋𝟏𝟐

pairing: arthur leclerc x fem!reader

in which arthur complains about having cold hands, resulting in a cuddling session in the kitchen and touching your boobs.

even though the sun shone in monaco, there was no warmth to it, resulting in arthur feeling cold as he stepped up to his small apartment he shared with you a little over two months now. it truly felt like december, only the snow was missing — the thought alone gave the former prema driver the shivers. he wasn't a cold being, he loved the sun, swimming in the sea he could see from his living room.

alas, today thinking of summer would have to do it; opening the door of the apartment arthur was greeted with the soft humms of yours along maisie peters yoko playing from the old speakers you had bought years before the man even met you.

he shut the door and made his way to you; you were in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes.

"ah mon amour, you could've waited for me", the monegasque said whilst laying the bag of groceries on the counter, grabbing one product after the other and sorting them away in the cupboards and fridge.

you turned your head slightly in his direction whilst grabbing two cleaned spoons to dry them with the handtowel. "Arth, don't worry, you can do the dishes tonight after your brothers left", you giggled.

your boyfriend groaned at your words; he loved his brothers, he really did but he'd much rather have a cozy evening in, watching the new percy jackson series you were excited to see than having lorenzo, charles and charles' relationship problems over. but the monegasque knew you had prepared the food and cleaned the flat, so there wasn't a chance to change your mind. he'd just has to pray that charles would've plans for after the meal, leaving you alone as enzo too, would leave to go home to his girlfriend.

"why the pout, hon?", you wondered, hands now empty and resting on the kitchen counter. your eyebrows drew together, creating wrinkles on your forehead as you looked at him; arthur still wore his thick jacket while coming to halt across you, the counter in-between the paid of you.

"come here", you whispered, eyes radiating the love you held for him.

he nodded, taking painfully slow steps to you.

reaching you, he slung his arms around your body, cold fingers slipping under your cozy knit sweater, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. his hands wanderd up to your tits which spilled above his hands, a sight which normally turned him immensely on.

but at the moment the man needed your soft skin to relax and warm up his hands, not a single sexual thought in his mind — or so it seemed.

a small groan left his lips as he felt your hardened nipples pushing him to grind his crotch against your ass. his head fell on yours; he clearly heard your wimmers and saw the lust in your eyes.

you lust for him was just as massive and everlasting as your love and devotion to him.

"bedroom", you moaned, feeling his left hand go south on your body.

he cupped your pussy through the shorts, feeling the dampness. then the brunette hummed in agreement, pulling away from you — he gave you a slutty grin before turning around to go to your bedroom.

"c'mon amour, we only have an hour max."

#arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f2 x reader #arthur leclerc #f2 imagine

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charlie-lec-stories · 4 months

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Drama King // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Already used to Max's shenanigans, Y/N finds out that Charles with the flu can be quite a challenge.

Warnings: None, this is fluff, fluff and even more fun. (Only one paragraph about homophobic Jos Verstappen)

Author’s Note: Gees, there's nothing worse than a guy with the flu. Also, there's a little introduction of Max and Y/N's parents and the relationship they have with their children. Rate: PG

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She was used to Max being a drama queen, after so many years being friends, she already knew how he could turn a minimal problem into a world-ending alarm. His computer froze for 5 seconds? It was probably broken. He couldn't find his phone? He probably lost it forever. He was hungry? He couldn't function until he ate. She had fun with that, because Max's little drama stunts were never something that came without a good laugh for her. She would watch him run around the room looking for his phone, or quickly throwing a tantrum when his computer'd go slower than he'd like it. Charles was a lot more composed, which was also funny because he was the one that go into serious trouble more often. He set his dinner on fire? It wasn't that bad, he's not afraid of fire. He's at the police station because he tried to jump the fence when he forgot his keys? Just a little inconvenience and he made new friends! He hurt his hand trying to fix the toaster he just broke? Well, he has a lot more blood in his body, nothing to worry about. Sometimes she wished that Charles would take the bizarre situations he got himself into a little more seriously.

But she takes that wish back, dear God, she takes that back.

It all started with winter break, they were off season and they had been together for a year now, their first anniversary on the 26th of December. Charles, who loved to spoil his partners, decided that they deserved a week for themselves, before they all had to part for New Year's celebrations with their respective families. Plus, they knew that Max was less than happy to have to spend the holiday with his father, so the idea of chilling together, somewhere away from the world was more than appealing. The Monegasque made a reservation at a very private cabin complex, where they could be alone in the middle of nowhere, in Germany. From the 25th at night all the way to the 31st at noon, they would turn off their phones and ignore the rest of the world. Max was more than happy for that, he needed to recharge batteries before facing his father, and Y/N knew that this little trip was perfect for her to sleep all the hours she missed that season. It was the perfect plan, and it went amazing. They relaxed in the woods, lit a bond-fire, swam on the lake, and the cabin even had a jacuzzi, which they used every day. But, when they finally went back to reality on the 31st, happy memories weren't the only thing that Charles brought back home with him.

"Tu es pâle, mon garçon". (You look pale, my boy). Pascale, Charle's mother, said when he arrived at her door for New Year's dinner.

"Je vais bien, ne t'inquiète pas, Maman". (I'm fine, don't worry, Mom). She wasn't convinced, and she was proven right when Charles started coughing in the middle of their meal. The poor man started his new year with a fever.

Arthur called Lando, who made up an excuse and called Max. The Red Bull driver was supposed to spend a week with his father, Jos, the two of them going on a "healing" trip to "help Max outgrow his queerness". The moment he got the call from Lando about "Sassy being sick", he canceled his plans with his father and flew back to Monaco. His father was more than displeased with that, and didn't believe a thing his son told him, but he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He had an already difficult relationship with his father, coming out as having two partners and having to tell him that they were his rivals was not something he needed to do at the moment. Jos Verstappen hated Y/N with passion, and it was a mutual feeling. He believed that the girl wanted to distract Max on purpose, to take advantage of that on the races. He also believed that she was trying to get into Max's pants to "trap him" with a kid. But, he would rather have her as his daughter in law than a man. He had never been as mad as when he discovered that Max was bisexual, the idea of having his son dating another man was his worst nightmare. He made it his life goal to "cure" Max and his son knew that if his father ever knew that Max was skipping his trip with him for Charles, he would straight up force Max into an asylum. Jos disliked Charles the most, after Lewis Hamilton, so if he didn't like the idea of Max dating a man, he would probably lose it with the fact that he was dating Charles.

Max made it back to Monte Carlo on January 2nd, but he called Y/N to let her know that he could take care of Charles and she should enjoy her time with her family. She had a big one, and she didn't get to see them much, he didn't want her to miss that chance. He could deal with Charles for a week, how hard could it be? She thanked him and let him know that she could fly back if he ever needed her, but he assured her that they would be alright. At the airport, he was welcomed by Lando, who coincidentally came back home from England to prepare everything for his New Year's party, a tradition he started two years prior and that was the most awaited event of the grid. The brit offered Max a ride and, together, they made their way towards the apartment that Max shared with his partners. Lando lived just a block away and offered to help out if he and Charles needed anything. He also let Max know that Oscar, Alex and George were flying to Monaco on the 4th, to help him out with the party, so there were going to be some extra hands. Max felt grateful, even if his father was not there for him, he had his grid family that loved him for who he was.

"Charlie? I'm home!". He called out when he opened the door. Usually, Charles would drop whatever he was doing to greet him and ask about his day. He was an active listener and enjoyed asking people things, but this time he was greeted by the faint sound of a cough and the pets, Pete, Charles' golden retriever, and his two cats. He dropped everything he had in hand and quickly walked to the bedroom followed by Pete. "Hey, Poepie, how are you feeling?". (Sweetie),

"I think I'm dying". Max had to actively do an effort to suppress his laugh. Charles was on the bed, the blanket up to his neck and his voice was barely over a whisper, but he was definitely not dying.

"I think you're doing pretty well!". Max said with a smile and sat on the bed next to Charles, but he pushed Max away. Pete jumped on the bed.

"Don't get close!". He yelled as loud as he could and then coughed again. "You'll get sick too and this is a nightmare".

"Charlie, it's only the flu. I'm Dutch, I'm used to cold weather and never get sick". He placed his hand on Charles' forehead and noticed that his boyfriend was burning up. "Don't worry about me".

"At least you got away from your dad". Charles said as he did the best he could to sit up. Max helped him a bit.

"Yeah, your stuffy nose definitely saved me from that". Charles smiled, his eyes shining in a mix of sadness and fever. He hated Jos for everything he put Max through.

"I'm your knight in shining armor, even when I'm sick". Max laughed out loud and Charles followed, but started coughing again.

"Okay, Sir Charles, let's make you some tea to warm up that throat".

The first night was terrible, Max didn't sleep, not even one second, Charles turning around and whimpering all night, uncomfortable and bothered by the fever. He was cold and hot, all at the same time, so he was pulling at the sheets constantly. Max wanted nothing more than to go to sleep on the couch, but he couldn't leave Charles alone. He turned the Monegasque around and spooned him to keep him from moving too much. They slept through the morning hours, until the pets woke them up asking to be fed. Max got up at lunch time to feed them and make some soup for Charles. He had two big black spots under his eyes and every now and then, a yawn would escape his mouth. Y/N texted him, asking about Charles and how he spent the night. Max didn't want her to worry, so he told her that Charles slept like a baby. It wasn't exactly a lie, never specified which type of baby, he slept like a possessed baby. Charles' fever went down through the day, but he still felt like he didn't have any strength. The medication was doing its magic, but he was probably going to get a fever again at night. And Max was right, Charles' fever came back the second night, sentencing Max to another sleepless night.

"If I die, I leave my sim to Y/N and my underwear to you". Charles told him at 3 am as they were cuddling. Max snorted, almost offended.

"I'm the one taking care of you and I get the underwear while she gets the sim?". Charles looked up at him in the dark, his eyes narrowed. "Make your own soup tomorrow, traitor".

"My underwear it's all Ferrari!". Max already knew that. "It's really important to me. I don't know what you're complaining for".

"It's a good thing you're not dying". Max chuckled and they fell silent for a few minutes.

"If I die and you don't wear that underwear, I'm haunting your ass". And he knew that Charles meant every word.

On the 4th, Lando called Max to let him know that the boys had arrived and offered to stop by and help out a bit. Charles was in a good mood, after Max promised to use the Ferrari underwear if he died, meaning that the visit was a good way to keep up his good spirits. While they waited for their friends to arrive, Max called Y/N to give her an update. She scolded him for refusing to wear the Ferrari briefs, and then she thanked him again for taking care of Charles all on his own. She was convinced that it was an easy task, Max was the drama king after all, but she was grateful anyways. Max decided not to tell her how much of a pain in the ass Charles could be, he would rather have her believing everything was alright. He took Pete out for a quick walk and then went to feed his little demons again, Sassy and Jimmy already planning on eating Charles if he let another minute pass without feeding them. Lando arrived with Oscar, George and Alex, and they all ran to the bedroom to say hi to Charles, but he had a fever again, and what they found was anything but festive.

"You look like shit". Lando said without thinking, and Max hit the back of his head.

"You don't, Charlie". But the Monegasque was already mentally writing his will.

"It's okay, dying must be the only thing that doesn't look good on me". Max rolled his eyes.

"We should help you get better". Oscar added, willing to help. The other three looked at him with their noses scrunched.

"I think we're all more useful at a safe distance". Alex looked around the room as he made the comment, looking for a place he could sit down and not get too close to Charles.

"It's just the flu, stop acting like he's got a deadly disease". But they all ignored Max as Oscar organized them to cover all of Charles' needs.

"Alex, you'll make the food. George, you'll bring Jimmy and Sassy, since Pete's already here. Lando, you'll pick a movie. I will gather all the blankets I can find. And Max...". Oscar looked at him, unsure of what Max could do. "You'll comfort him, but please, keep it decent".

"I'm not doing that while you guys are here". Max said, annoyed.

"Just making sure!". Lando laughed as he remembered the situation in the hotel room.

Oscar's plan was kind of chaotic, as always. While Max laid on the bed with his sick boyfriend, he could hear Alex fighting with the kitchen, George chased the cats around the house and Oscar opened every closet in the apartment looking for blankets. To add to that, Lando just couldn't pick a movie, going through all the streaming platforms and genres. Charles still acted as if he was dying and even though Max loved every person in that house, he was too sleep deprived to tolerate the chaos. After an hour, George walked in with Sassy and Jimmy, his shirt covered in holes and wearing kitchen gloves. He placed the cats on top of Charles and they both snuggled on his chest, purring and relaxing against their Papa. Max looked at George worried, as the brit just kept a wary eye on the cats. He couldn't help but chuckle at the situation, Sassy and Jimmy were the most loving cats in the world, but they loved to drive people crazy. Alex brought to the room the worst soup Max had ever tasted, but Charles was so sick that he couldn't even taste anything, so it wasn't a problem. Oscar placed all the blankets on top of Charles and, even though Max thought Lando would never pick anything, he actually did, and they all sat in the room to watch it together. Charles was finally asleep after 30 minutes and Max had never felt more relieved.

Around 6 pm they all left and Max took the pets to their beds. Pete slept on a pretty fancy bed that Charles had brought for him, it had Ferrari's emblem all over it, still, the dog loved his Red Bull toy, no matter how many times Charles took it away from him. Max gave Pete the toy and the dog curled up on his bed, ready to sleep, hugging the toy. Jimmy and Sassy had high beds, ones that Max had attached to the wall so they could sleep as up high as possible. He told them to go to bed, in Dutch, since it was the only language they understood, and they both obeyed instantly. If there was something that Max loved about their pets was how well behaved they were, George might not agree with that, but that seemed like George-problem to Max. After everyone was on their beds, Max went back to his room and lied next to Charles, his little snores making Max smile. Maybe they could finally sleep for a few hours. But they didn't. Charles' fever came back and he started moving around again. At some point, Max even heard him crying.

"Charles, are you okay?". Max asked as he turned Charles around to look at him and see if he could find what was hurting. "Does anything hurt?".

"I don't know!". Charles said, already done with being sick. "I just feel like shit and I'm tired and my head hurts... and... and my throat is sore!". Charles complained in between sobs. "And my nose is so stuffed! I just want to feel better and do my things, like training and going out. And I miss Y/N too".

"Charlie, it's okay". Max tried to comfort him, ignoring his own tiredness as best as he could. "Be patient, you'll feel better soon. I promise".

But Charles kept turning around all night again, coughing, mumbling, sighing loudly, blowing his nose. Max was close to losing it. There is so much time one can spend not sleeping and Max was close to his breaking point. At 4 in the morning, he got up and decided to call Y/N. She was in Buenos Aires, so it would be around midnight there, she was definitely up, no one slept early in Argentina. He felt terrible calling her to complain about their boyfriend, but Max just couldn't take it anymore, he needed to sleep and their friends were too loud and energetic to actually help. He confirmed that the day before. So she was his last resort. He sat on the toilet with the lid down, looking at his phone and re-thinking about calling her or not. She was having fun, spending some time with her family, people she missed all year round, he didn't feel comfortable ruining that, but he didn't know what to do. He heard Charles cough from the room and dialed his girlfriend's number. It rang a few times, then, he was met with the sound of music and people speaking loudly.

"Hey, Maxie, it's everything alright?". She greeted him. He could hear her friends mocking her, saying "Maxie" over and over again, her grandmother scolding them, and Y/N laughing at the situation. "Wait! It's like 4 am there. Max, is Charles alright?".

"YES". He quickly reassured her when he noticed how worried she was. She sighed in relief. "I just...".

"What is it?". He heard the noise turn down, she had probably moved away from people so they could talk better.

"I lied to you. Charles has not been easy to deal with. At all! He's terrible, and I miss my sleep and we miss you and he's coughing all the time and the guys came by and it was a mess...". He kept rambling about how the last few days had been horrible for him and she patiently listened to him. It was bad that Charles was still with a fever, that wasn't normal, since he was taking medication for that, but Max was also someone who could escalate a situation pretty quickly, so it was hard for her to know exactly if the situation was that bad. Nonetheless, she let him let it all out, once she noticed that he was done, she offered a solution.

"Listen, Amor, give me two days. Tomorrow I will say goodbyes and then I'll be on the first plane I can catch, okay?". She heard him let out a breath he had been holding. "We'll take care of him together".

"Thank you, Schat, thank you so much". He said, feeling a lot better.

On the 6th, around 8 pm, Y/N finally got back home. She slowly opened the door, Pete went to her to greet her. She patted his head and scratched the back of his ears, earning a little huff of approval from the dog. Sassy and Jimmy went next, rubbing against her legs and meowing, showing their Mamá how much they missed her. She tried to shush them, noticing that Max and Charles were probably sleeping. Quietly, she dropped her suitcase by the door and took off her shoes, walking around the dark apartment towards the bedroom. The door made a minimal cracking sound as she pushed it open softly and she cringed about it, but she discovered that her boys were wide awake inside, completely unbothered by the sound of the door. Charles was in a semi-awake state, his eyes glossy and forehead shiny with sweat, probably still with a fever. Max was next to him, his eyes tired and the bags under them prominent, like he hadn't slept in days. The Dutchman's eyes light up with her presence, the tiredness still there but now mixed with relief.

"Schat!". He jumped up and ran to her, picking her up and spinning her a few times, before he set her back down and kissed her, like his life depended on it. Maybe his sanity did. "You're here!".

"Yeah, how have you guys been?". Max was frowning at her instead of answering her question. "What?"

"Weren't coming back tomorrow?". She was the one frowning now. "I told you we could wait, I can't believe I made you leave your family so soon".

"No, Amor, I said two days, that was the day before yesterday". She went to the bed and sat down, placing her hand on Charles' face and caressing his cheek.

"No no, today's the 5th, Schat".

"Max, it's January 6th". She took her phone out of her pocket to show him the date. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know...". Y/N looked at him, worried, taking into his pitiful state. Charles was still out so she got up and dragged Max to the living room. They sat on the couch and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"You should sleep here tonight, I'll look after Charlie". He hummed in agreement. "Did you guys eat already?". Max nodded. "Good, then lie down and rest".

"Thank you, Schat".

Max lied down and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly. Y/N walked back to the room, changed for the night and got into bed with Charles. He had the flu, how bad could it be? Really bad, she discovered that night. The Monegasque spent the night complaining, she wasn't able to close her eyes for a minute. Between Charles' never ending turning and how tired she was from the trip, she was wishing she could go to the living room with Max. When the morning light came, she was still awake and extremely tired. Charles was the most annoying patient in the world. If he was complaining like that for the flu, what would he do for a stomach bug? They were lucky that Charles rarely got sick. Max went to the bedroom around 11 am, better rested and ready to treat his girl better than last night. But she was looking just as miserable as he did the past few days. Charles was finally asleep, so she got up and the two of them went to the kitchen for breakfast. Max, with more energy than her, made some Stroopwafels, while Y/N just rested her head on her hand, slumped over the table.

"I think it's time for Charles' meds, Amor". She told him after a few minutes in silence. "Where are they?".

"First drawer, my nightstand. It's a bottle that says-"

"Paracetamol, I know, my mother's a doctor, remember?". He noticed the pain in her voice, under the tiredness, but he chose not to keep up the conversation about her mother, she was not rested enough to talk about that woman. She walked back to the bedroom and opened the drawer, the bottle being the first thing she saw.

"Here's a glass of water". Max told her as she walked up to him, the bottle in her hand.

"Have you been giving Charles this?". She showed him the bottle.

"Of course, every 8 hours". He proudly answered.

"It's expired, Max". His smile dropped instantly. "This expired in 2020".

"You're fucking with me". He took the bottle from her and inspected it. "It can't be expired".

"This is so old I wasn't even in F1 when it stopped being useful". She ran her hands down her face and sighed. "I'll run to the pharmacy and buy a new one. Of course he's not feeling better, the meds don't work once they are expired, it's like giving him nothing".

Y/N brought a new bottle of medication and Charles was already feeling better that night. They all finally got some proper sleep. The next morning, Charles was a new man, back again with his good spirits and big smiles, as if he hasn't been the most over dramatic person for the last few days. Max and Y/N were still exhausted as he walked into the kitchen for breakfast.

"I can't believe you flew all the way back here just for the flu, Amour, it wasn't that serious!". He told Y/N as he took a bite of his Stroopwafels. "And I took it like a champ".

"Yeah, sure, Corazón". She said, condescendingly.

"Get sick again, Charles, and I'm personally burring you with your Ferrari underwear, you fucking Drama King".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one is pretty long, but i had fun writing it! Hope you guys like it!

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #lestappen imagine #lestappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #max vestappen one shot

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margowritesthings · 6 months

Text

BITE ME

pairing: Vampire!Arthur Morgan x Human!f!reader word count: 4091 words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, piv intercourse, fingering (r receiving), biting and blood play, vampire feeding authors note: happy halloween my loves! this is a day late, but time isn't real anyway so we can all just pretend it is yesterday... right?? anyway, this au is now living rent free in my mind. i'm obsessed.

taglist:@cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries@delilah-grimes@mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i @sickvictorianangel

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

The wooden panels nailed to the broken windows of the manor allow for tiny slats of moonlight to invade onto your skin, bathing you in a white glow. Peering through the gaps, you can see the distant campfire those bastard Pinkertons set up down by the swamp, but you know they’re surrounding you, boxing you into Shady Belle like fish in a barrel.

It’s been three days of a stalemate, the Pinkertons keeping their distance, brave enough to come with guns and firepower but just cowardly enough to not advance towards the monster they’ve heard only legend of, lest he rip their throats out and drain their life away. No, they’d rather wait around until they can drag his starved body out and be hailed heroes.

That “monster” sits mere feet away from you leaning against the wall, pale skin paler still, his chin tilted upwards as he fights the weight of his own skull. It’s killing you, watching your Arthur grow weaker by the hour. Three days of hiding out in Shady Belle, unable to leave for fear of being hunted for sport, but it’s been much longer since he last fed. They have you trapped, completely and truly. If Arthur held even half his usual strength, it would have been so easy to escape. He’d have overpowered them in seconds, no matter their numbers or firepower. But for that, he’d need to feed on the blood of another, which has made things much harder.

You try to relax your worried features when you see him start to wake, rubbing the crease out from between your eyebrows formed by the frown you hold whenever you watch him sleep, too scared to look away in case he stops stirring.

“Arthur…” You whisper on an exhale, quickly moving to sit beside him on the little bed. As always, his skin feels like marble, cold enough to seep through his shirt and scatter goose pimples over your arms. You’re used to the cold, what you don’t like is the thin layer of sweat coating him. Vampires shouldn’t sweat, but they also shouldn’t go so long without feeding, and the thought of this being a symptom of time running out terrifies you more than any number of monsters out camping in those woods.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Arthur shuffles to make room for you, guiding you to rest your head on his hard chest. There’s normally more muscle here cushioning you from his ribcage, but with Arthur so sick you can feel every bone beneath you.

“You get any sleep?”

There’s always the option to lie so he worries less, but Arthur knows you too well for that, so only the truth will have to do.

You shake your head, “Was keeping watch. They haven’t moved, think they’re still shit-scared of you, actually.”

Absent-mindedly, Arthur’s hand gravitates to the top of your head, stroking your hair in such a way that sends tingles down your spine. Even now, in the midst of perhaps the most danger you’ve ever been in together, his very touch has the power to calm you instantaneously.

He huffs a laugh, though you notice the slight wheeze to his breath when he does and another pang of worry hits you, “Course they are. Call themselves goddamn hunters, couldn’t catch a cold in Colter…” A pause, where you fill the silence with that tiny little laugh you’ve barely been mustering lately, then, “You should get some sleep, darlin’.”

“Not tired.” You protest, almost childishly, burying yourself further into Arthur’s chest. In truth, you’re exhausted, and even though he already knows it, you won’t admit it. You can’t tell him that you’re too scared to fall asleep in case you wake up alone, that there’s no point anyway because nightmares of him withering away to nothing here beside you will drag you back awake soon enough.

You both know this can’t go on for much longer. Something has to be done, and you know you have to be the one to do it. It’s just the convincing…

“C’mon, baby…” He starts, but you won’t hear it. You’re not going to sleep. You’re going to fix this.

“You have to feed on me.” You blurt out, glad to be nuzzled into your beloved’s shirt so you don’t have to see whatever expression your statement has pulled from him.

It’s not spontaneous, no sudden solution that has sprung into your mind this very moment. You’ve suggested it before, albeit never so forcefully, Arthur brushing you off like the idea is unfathomable. Explaining that he would never feed from you, terrified he’d lose control and hurt you. He could never hurt you. If there are such things as absolutes, that is one of them, you know it.

“No.” He’s blunt, clearly hoping his tone had enough force to end it there. But you’re strong, your will to keep fighting for him an everlasting force enough to match his.

“Arthur-” You unravel from him to sit up and meet his eye, yours pleading, his hardened.

“Darlin’, I said no. I mean it. I promised you I would never hurt ya’, and shit have I broke a lot of promises in my life… but not that one. N-Never that one. No.”

“You’re going to die, Arthur. If you don’t do this you’re going to die and you’re gonna leave me all on my own to face those bastards a-and,” Dammit, when did you start crying? “And I can’t do it without ya, Arthur you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can-”

“Well I don’t want to!” You shout, bursting the bubble of quiet around the Manor, your echo riding the wave of birds flocking out of the trees. Sobs threaten to break your strength, but you have to say this. It’s the very last card you have to play. After a few moments, tension between you growing palpable enough to cut with a knife, Arthur closes his mouth, letting you continue.

“Arthur, you’re all I have left… You think I’m a sharp enough shooter to get by them? Fine. But say I kill ‘em all, then what? Find somewhere to live and carry on? I ain’t… I can’t lose you, Arthur. But I can save you, if you let me. Please.”

Time feels as though it stops entirely when you see Arthur actually considering your words. Tears streak your cheeks, but your boots could ignite right on your feet and you might not notice in this moment. He looks so tortured in thought, no doubt imagining the life you would lead if you left him behind. He’s sure you’re strong enough, he knows you can do anything, but his heart breaks thinking of you all alone.

You reach for Arthur’s hands, feeling his cold skin tremble.

“I… What if I lose control? What if I hurt you? Sweetheart, you know what I get like when I-”

“But you won’t. You know how much blood I can afford to give you, and I know you, Arthur. You’d never hurt me.”

You elect not to tell him that any blood that runs through your body belongs to him already, your heart pumping it through your veins only for him.

You don’t tell him you’d die for him, because you know he’d never let you.

He’s silent, contemplating.

Please.

“...You start feeling faint or anything, you fuckin’ tell me, alright?” His tone holds an attempt at sternness, but it bothers you none. You can hardly hear him for the rush of relief flowing over you.

“I-I will. I promise.” And you mean it. The two of you are two entwined souls, neither trusting the other to have enough will to keep fighting if anything happened to them.

Arthur takes a deep breath in, almost like he’s giving himself an extra few seconds to back out of this, before sighing it out.

“Alright.”

The breath that hitched in your throat an age ago releases and you wipe your tears away hurriedly with the back of your hand.

“Oh, thank you, Arthur…” You’re so ecstatic, so grateful that he’s letting you save him that all you can do is launch yourself over to him, kissing him with all the passion the universe has offered you to gift him. Your hands fall to either side of his face, caressing his marble skin in a way that emits a tiny groan from him. Over the last few days, you’ve cuddled up to him a lot, but there hasn’t been much contact like this. Needy and wanting, loving and layered with everything from I Love You to Let Me Save You. Arthur is a starved man, but not just for blood. For you, body, blood and soul.

Arthur snakes one arm around your waist, even with his reduced strength still able to pull you over to straddle his lap. You’d have protested, citing that he’s too sick to be holding your weight like this, but now that this is really happening you’re getting kind of nervous, and the thought of being so close to him, arms wrapped around your frame while he feeds on your blood, comforts you hugely. And there’s no backing out, not from this, so straddle him you will.

Despite everything, Arthur’s cool touch sets you aflame. He trails his fingertips up and down your spine, his other hand firmly gripping your ass. His tongue teases your bottom lip until you open up to him, tasting him as he does you. He tastes…like Arthur. He might argue that he’s some monster, committing evil acts in the name of survival, but you know better. He’s your Arthur, he always has been.

The world melts around you, leaving just you and Arthur, loving each other, saving each other. That one long kiss breaks into smaller ones, until Arthur is peppering your lips, cheeks and nose with tiny kisses, glistening red eyes welling with emotion.

“It was always gonna be you, wasn’t it? You were always gonna save me…” He whispers, almost like he doesn’t quite believe it’s real.

“Always. And you’re gonna save me right back, cowboy. But first…” You look down between your two bodies, to the arm you’re holding out to Arthur.

“Are you ready?”

“Does it hurt?” You surprise yourself with your answer to his question, though you stand by it. You’re not scared, you could never be scared with Arthur. But nervous?

“A little. But I’m right here with you. And if you need to stop or take a break or you start feeling off, tell me or tap my arm.” You nod slowly, placing your hand into Arthur’s, “I need a yes, sweetheart… I can’t do this to you unless you’re sure.”

“Yes, Arthur. I’m sure. Please.”

There is one final, apprehensive glance in your direction, which you reply to with another tiny nod. He raises your flesh to his mouth, flashes of his white fangs visible now in the moonlight as he parts his lips.

It’s… strange. A small scratching feeling when his teeth puncture the skin of your wrist that pinches your brows together. There’s a second of nothing, before Arthur starts to feed and steals the breath right out of your lungs.

It’s like you can feel every vein in your body, all connecting and tugging your lifeforce through to your wrist for Arthur to feast on. You can tell the second the first drop hits his tongue, the shudder that wracks through his shoulders and down his spine. His eyes roll back in… pleasure? You’ve seen him feed before, usually such a violent affair, but this is different. You feel vulnerable to him, and as though you hold every ounce of control all at once.

When he groans, deep carmine eyes locking onto yours, you feel it all over, your thighs clenching around your suddenly wanting pussy.

… An unexpected side effect.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the blood rushing around your body, or even the downright ravenous way Arthur is looking at you while he feeds on your blood, but you seem to be physically squirming on the bed, desperate for any kind of friction you can get. Fuck, you’ve never seen anybody react to being fed on like this… Then again, you’ve never seen feeding look or feel like this.

From even the smallest drop of you, what little colour that remains after his change has returned to Arthur’s skin and he looks much closer to alive than just minutes before. He looks himself again, right down to the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It does maddening things to you, not at all helping your growing state of arousal.

When his teeth sink out of your wrist, you watch crimson beads pool at two tiny punctures. Without breaking eye contact with you, Arthur lifts your hand back up to him, running the very tip of his tongue agonisingly slowly over the skin, pulling an honest to god whimper from your parted lips.

“You did so good, my good girl…” Arthur coos, an undeniably pleased look upon his face. He’s told you before, that with his heightened senses, Arthur knows when you want him. You also know how energised he gets after feeding, and how all of these factors are leading to a tension so intense between you you’re almost scared of the outcome.

There’s a smudge of blood on Arthur’s lip, one that you reach out to rub away with your thumb. Quick as the predator he is, he grabs your wrist before you can pull away, slipping your thumb into his mouth and sucking the blood gently off. Upon release, he drags one sharpened fang across the pad of your thumb and you shudder, craving that feeling of the bite more than you truly understand.

“A-Arthur…” You whimper, shuddering in pure anticipation and need.

“I know, sweetheart… Christ, I knew you’d taste good, but this? Fuck, you’ve ruined me, baby…”

You can’t wait a second longer, certain you’ll perish unless he is kissing you in the next moment. Entangling your grip into his collar, you find Arthur only too malleable to your touch, all but pouncing on you, locking your lips together. His tongue demands entrance as he easily positions you to be laying under him, Arthur covering the entire length of you and thensome.

“How do you feel, angel?” He asks between kisses, large hands roaming your body, tugging your clothes out of being tucked into each other to make it easier to take them off, “Y’alright? Don’t feel faint?”

“I’m okay. I just- I-I need you, please.” You’re pleading again, this time for very different reasons, “Did you get enough?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, sweetheart…” He growls, pulling the buttons of your shirt open feverishly. And then his lips are back on your skin, kissing your neck, licking at the skin whilst his hands work your zipper. You moan again, some wanton part of you wishing he would bite down again, marking you all over.

Arthur is losing control in the best way, growling and grinding his erection against your leg as he tries to pull your jeans down. With a little help, he manages, tugging your undergarments with them so you’re completely bare for him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful… my perfect little feast. Fuck, I’m tortured by every second I’m not buried deep inside that weeping cunt of yours,” At that, he runs a finger over your slit, drenching the tip of his finger in your slick, “but I think you deserve a treat for being such a good girl for me…”

There’s no time to consider his offer as he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them, curling them to hit that sweet spot he knows so well. You scream, absolutely loud enough for any Pinkerton vampire hunters to hear.

“That’s it, huh? That what you needed? That pretty little cunt filling?” He taunts, thumb swirling over your already soaking clit. You can’t speak for crying out, but you manage a nod, feeling yourself stretch around a third finger in a way that has your heart racing even faster.

With your pulse pounding, you can really feel the wounds on your wrist starting to ache and burn. It's a strange sensation, but one that seems to blend into everything else in some twisted bout of pleasure.

Arthur must notice your eyes flickering to it, as he guides your hand back up to his lips with the hand not inside you, pressing the softest kisses over the holes in your skin.

“Look what you did for me… My saviour, my perfect girl…”

“I’d die for you, Arthur.” you confess, the sweetness of his kisses and the languid circles of his fingers pulling you so close to the edge you can feel tears forming behind your eyes.

“It’d never come to that, beautiful. I’d burn the world down before I let your life ever hang in the balance.”

You believe him, too, and the emotion is suddenly too much. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you need him closer and all you can seem to think to do is untangle your wrist from his grasp and slip your thumb into his mouth.

He knows what you’re asking for instantly, and you swear you see his inky pupils blow until his eyes are nothing but a reddened void.

“Oh, my pretty little feast…” He groans, pricking your thumb with a fang and sucking gently at the blood. It isn’t nearly as intense as your wrist, but you still feel that tugging everywhere and you can’t stop the lewd moans that fall from your lips as you come undone.

Writing, screaming his name, you feel Arthur suck harder on your thumb, moaning himself at the taste of you. It’s not nearly as much as he was taking before, but enough that your blood blooms over his tongue and fills every one of his senses. He is a man obsessed, and it’s the most beautiful sight as you cum for him.

The waves of euphoria crash over you, each more intense and wonderful than the last. Arthur orchestrates your orgasm through his own pleasure, drawing perfect patterns on your clit in time to his thrusts.

When you come down, he’s there, releasing you from his fangs again to free his lips for yours. Your lips lock together, his body crushing yours into the mattress. You love the feel of all his weight on you, especially when you can feel every pulse of his throbbing cock through the denim of his jeans. Jeans that must go, so you snake a hand into what little space you can between your bodies to reach for his buttons. Arthur helps you, and he’s soon naked on top of you. Wrapping nimble fingers around his shaft, you run your thumb over the rosy head of his cock, swiping at the bead of precum already leaking. He’s desperate for you, and it drives you wild.

You’re already guiding him to your soaked entrance, grinding your hips pathetically, needily. Arthur chuckles softly, taunting you with the smallest of hip movements to slide his tip into you, but stopping there.

“Arthur.” You whine, eyes pleading, cunt dripping for him. Your hands roam the expanse of his back, feeling each muscle twitch under your touch, scratching at the cool skin like a cat in heat.

“I know, baby, I know… I’ll make it better.” He purrs, finally sliding the entire length of his cock into your heat. It stretches you in that beautiful way only he can and you moan, deep and visceral. Your nails leave white scratches across Arthur’s back as your hands float up to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss as his groin presses hard into yours.

“Oh, my beautiful girl… I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’re gonna hear you up in Saint Denis… them Pinkertons out there are gonna think I’m draining every last drop of that sweet blood out of your precious little body.”

Such a violent image, but somehow… you enjoy the thought. You’d bleed for him till the end of time, gladly… you’d lay down your life on a slab and be Arthur’s for the taking.

You can’t think of the words to tell him how much you want what he’s telling you, letting the passion guide you to bite down on Arthur’s lower lip. A taste of his own medicine. He has no blood of his own to give, but you’re biting down hard enough to have drawn some if he did, dragging another feral grown from the depths of his throat.

True to his word, with just a few perfectly timed thrusts, you’re screaming his name, cunt fluttering around his thick cock and squeezing every inch of it. That full feeling is so wonderful, so bone-deep and euphoric you’re on the precipice of another orgasm in seconds. He can tell, slowing down and hanging you right over the edge with a wicked grin on his face. You whine and whimper, clawing at the back of his neck to pull him even closer.

“What do you want, little feast? Use your words.” He pushes, still dragging his cock up against your walls in the most torturous of ways.

“I want… I-I need… I-I… urgh!” You cry out in frustration, each syllable leaving your lips earning another thrust that dizzies you to the point of cock-drunk stuttering. Fuck words. You’ll show him.

With a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull Arthur closer, guiding him to the crook of your neck.

“Angel, I don’t know if I can control myself if I taste you agai-”

“Please…” you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet Arthur’s movements, clit grinding deliciously against his pubic bone.

Arthur’s eyes meet yours and you’re lost in them, convinced you’ve never been held so close to climax for so long before, but your body knows what it wants, what it needs to get there with Arthur.

“Fuck, if I could die, you’d be the death of me…” Are the last words he speaks before sinking his teeth into your neck, in perfect time with a deep thrust of his cock. You scream, in pain, in pleasure, all of it, finally falling over that cliff and crashing into the waves below. You drown in your orgasm, dragging Arthur down with you as he sucks the sweet ichor out of your veins. With your blood on his tongue and his name on your lips, you cum together. The vibrations of his carnal moans tickle your neck, layering yet another juxtaposing sensation onto you.

He releases, only to whisper sweet words of praise into your bleeding skin, “Look at you, giving me this… you’re doing so good for me, ain’t ya? My little angel, my good girl…”

And he’s biting down again, and you’re chanting his name, legs wrapped tight around his hips, tears you don’t remember shedding streaking down your cheeks. It feels like you stay there for an eternity, connected mind, body and soul. You would stay there for an eternity with him, if he’d only let you. But that’s another story…

It stings a little when Arthur unleashes his teeth from you, and you wince. His hand is there instantly, caressing the surely reddened skin as his brows pull together, “You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I? Y’feelin’ alright?”

You shake your head softly, a blissful smile gracing your lips, “I’m perfect.”

“Damn straight you are.” He remarks, slowly sliding out of you and lowering his weight onto the bed beside you.

“What about you? How are you feeling?” You ask, entwining your fingers together and holding them up into the moonlight. There's a streak of your blood crossing over a few of Arthur’s knuckles. It suits him.

“Never better.” He says honestly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you, darlin’. I’ll never be able to thank ya’ enough for what you did, but I promise you I’ll get us out of here alive. Well… y’know what I mean.”

You giggle, sure you may never get used to the fact that the love of your life is dead.

“You don’t need to thank me, Arthur. You’ve given me your life a million times, it’s only fair I get to do the same.”

And you mean it. You would do it a thousand times over, giving your life to Arthur while he gives his afterlife to you, saving each other until the end of time.

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

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inevesgf · 2 months

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ROULETTE⠀,⠀ george clarke.

synopsis ✩ you film a drinking video with george and the arthurs, which results in you waking up in george’s bed the morning.

warnings: smut, drinking, drunk sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (receiving), hair pulling, afab!reader. basically just really hot and heavy, desperate sex..

authors note: first smut i have wrote in awhileee… hope this satisfies all of you thirsty george girls and anon who requested this. xx

usually when arthur asked you to film a stupid drinking video for his channel , you declined — the idea of going to a random city to get drunk just didn’t seem fun to you. every time arthur hill, arthur and george went out to film one of those videos, they’d always try to coax you into coming. ‘it’ll be fun’ or ‘i’ll pay for your drinks’ just never seemed to work on you — except for this time.

the past few weeks had been rough for you and you desperately prayed for a pick me up. unfortunately, the pick me up the universe handed to you was in the form of arthur hill. with less begging than usual, he had finally persuaded you into being in one of his platform roulette videos. your only motivation to do this was really just to get out of the house. you knew you would stay in the slump you were in if you didn’t do something about it. obviously drinking was not a way to get out of a low point, but being around friends was — at least you weren’t drinking alone.

the night had concluded after an escape room, loud pub karaoke and lots and lots of drinks. you weren’t completely wasted; a slight buzz from the alcohol lingered on you. the mascara smeared lightly on your cheeks from sweating and the smell of guinness on your lips hinted at your intoxication to those near you. when the train pulled up to the station yourself, george and the arthur’s stumbled in, picking an area to nicely pack the four of you into. as george sat in the window seat, you slid in next to him, the warmth of his body next to yours keeping you warm from the cold uk air. arthur was completely trashed as he laid his head against the train window on the seat opposite of you — this action enough to get a laugh out of everyone. “are you okay, bud?” george chuckled, looking over at you drunkenly to share the laugh. arthur did not say anything, he just groaned, closing his eyes. the poor guy was miserable — after loosing a lot of forfeits he had had more drinks than anyone. it made you think about the consequences to your actions. you had fun that night, but the hangover that was sure to come to you the next morning cancelled that out. “dont remind me that i’m going to be absolutely dead tomorrow morning,” you spoke, “this is all your fault, arthur — if the hangover kills me tell everyone arthur did it.” george laughed at your words, lifting his arm up and slinging it around your shoulder. a blush crept onto your face, the alcohol making your thoughts drift somewhere they shouldn’t be. “maybe you spend the night at mine?” george’s words were unsure, the alcohol barely giving him and confidence. “i can take care of you.” there was something so sensual about the way he said it, making a pit of anxiety grow in your stomach.

you had spent most of the night eyeing george. there was something about him that evening; the way his hair laid messy on his head, his smile when he laughed at something funny; that was so captivating to you. even in your sober moments, you couldn’t help but admire him sometimes. the words he spoke sent a shiver down your spine and you could see arthur(tv) smirking in your direction — the words george spoke seemingly catching his attention. “if i won’t be a bother,” you were reluctant, which made george nod. “not at all — your company would be nice.” you shot a drunken smile over at him, a haze of tiredness coming over you as the alcohol caught up.

after a long day of being out with george and the arthurs, you had finally reached a place to relax. after parting with the others, you and george took your time walking to his flat, which was only a few blocks away from the station. upon entering his flat, you sighed, exhausted. george laughed at you, causing you to raise a brow in confusion. “you have mascara all over your cheeks.” as he spoke you recalled examining your face in a pub bathroom, smeared mascara under your eyes from sweating it off. “oops.” was all you muttered out, a small laugh escaping your lips as you did. “cmon,” george spoke, taking your hand as he pulled you away from the door, “lets get you cleaned up.” you held on to his hand reluctantly as he pulled you over to the bathroom. “sit up on the cabinet.” george smiled over at you as you tiredly entered the bathroom. you slowly pulled yourself onto the cabinet, letting your legs dangle over the edge. you swung your legs back and forth, patiently waiting as george stumbled into the other room. he entered back quickly, a small towel in his hand as he got it wet in the sink. “close your eyes.” george spoke as you closed them in response. he dabbed the wet towel on your cheeks, erasing the smeared mascara from them with a satisfied hum. the warmth of the towel on your face woke you up from your once sleepy state. “thank you.” a drunken smile plastered itself on your face. george smiled, locking his gaze onto you. time seemed to go by so slow and after long seconds passed you had gathered the silence around you. “are you okay, george? you’re awfully quiet.” all he could do in response was let out a nervous chuckle. “you’re just gorgeous,” his words made your heart beat fast in your chest, a pink flush bringing itself to your cheeks, “i know im drunk right now, but god.” george let out a loud breath, making your spine tingle as a smile crept onto your face.

before your brain could catch up with your actions; before you could stop yourself; you found yourself leaning into george’s touch. lips pressed together softly as you snaked your arms around george’s neck, letting yourself melt into him. without liquid courage, you knew you wouldn’t have the confidence to do this; this reality would linger as a fantasy in your head. george, without being intoxicated, would never had had the courage to let his lips dance against yours in return — in that moment all his anxiety faded away. you wrapped your legs around george’s waist, tugging him closer, his body now pressed up against the bathroom cabinet and between your legs. george allowed himself to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue tangle in yours as his arms found themselves around your waist. your heart pounded in your chest; the rhythm matching the slick kisses george laid upon your lips. you let your hands travel from george’s neck to his chest, tracing what you could feel of his abs through his tee. his breath hitched, interrupting the rhythm of your kiss before he resumed his once harmonic pattern on yours lips. george’s hands traveled from your waist to your thighs, letting himself massage them slightly as his lips escaped from yours. he placed his lips upon your neck, leaving small kisses which caused you to gasp as he found your sweet spot. george allowed himself to suck slightly at the spot, eliciting a soft moan from you as he was sure to leave a mark on your neck.

your hands traveled back up george body and to his hair, your fingers tangling in his light curls as you tugged a little from the pleasure. the action made george groan softly against your neck, giving him more courage to advance the moment. he pulled away slowly, letting his eyes lock onto yours again. placing his hands at the hem on your black dress, he spoke, this time his tone more husky — sexy — “may i?” an eager nod was what he earned from you as he began to roll up your dress, revealing himself to you in your underwear. george wasted no time before he put himself on to his knees, peppering kisses on your thighs which made you shutter. you ached under the fabric of your underwear, a thin layer only separating george and the area of you that craved him most. with a slow, teasing manner, george began to rid you of your underwear, placing them onto the side. you spread your legs slowly, revealing yourself to george in an eager, yet shy manner. you could tell george was as impatient as you were; his eyes studied your body conscientiously as rough breaths escaped his lips. george placed his head in between your thighs, his tongue licking onto your clit like it had danced along your tongue. you shuttered, a little whine escaping your lips as he let his tongue travel around your sensitive spots, sucking down onto your bud. a ragged moan escaped your lips, causing your toes to curl as shivers traveled up and down your body. george took his time teasing at your clit, letting his tongue run circles along it. it didn’t take long of george’s actions before you began to feel a clutter in your stomach, the high close as you arched your hips into george’s tongue. before you could finish, george removed his lips from your sweet spot, the loss of the feeling making your eager for more.

a pant escaped your lips as george returned his head up to your level, your slick glistening on his lips. you scanned george’s body, your interests peaking as you spotted the tent that had formed under his slacks. george missed his body on yours as he was quick to return it. placing his lips back onto yours, you hummed as you could feel the heat on his lips from your body. george’s hands traveled down to his belt, struggling to unfasten it as he left his lips locked on yours. once he had gotten it off, he rid himself of his slacks, allowing them to fall to the floor around his ankles. now feeling more comfortable in your state, you roamed your hands down to his boxers, letting your hands palm onto his hard on which elicited a moan from george. this action alerted george of how bad you wanted him; how much your sweet spot craved his attention again. george’s hands returned to the hem of your dress, breaking the kiss for a small second to slip it off over your head and on to the floor. you spread your legs again, revealing your wet core to george as he finally freed himself from his boxers. the tension between you two was heavy; george could barely contain himself from thrusting into you hardly. letting the tip of his cock tease against your folds, george lined himself up with you before slowly sliding in. a moan escaped your lips as you pulled george closer with your legs, letting his cock slip deeper into you as you did. again, your hands found yourself tangled in george’s hair, pulling at his curls as you physically begged for more. george thrusted into you almost rhythmically as his eyes studied your face, his lips laying a gap from pleasure. your head rolled back as you laid it against the mirror, sounds of delectation escaping your lips as he fucked into you. with each sloppy thrust, george’s pace grew faster, shooting the feeling of delight through your body. as one hand wrapped itself around your thigh, the others fingers found themselves on your clit, rubbing soft circles around your core. “does that feel good?” he breathed out, a teasing tone you had never heard from george spoke. you bit your lip, holding in loud moans as you nodded. “yes — so good.” you panted out, your mouth staying open in awe. you were overwhelmed with pleasure, soft whines escaping your lips as he payed focus to your clit. his thrusts grew disorganized, signaling he was coming to an end as his fingers danced faster against you. the familiar clutter found itself forming in your stomach again as you reached your high, tensing yourself around george as you finished. seconds later george found himself reaching that same high as he pulled out, decorating his cum along yours thighs. you took time to recollect yourself, fast breaths still escaping your lips as your skin glistened from sweat. george was dumbfounded, his lips still laid open, collecting the pleasure he had just ensued. coming down upon yours, george laid another kiss on your lips, making you feel cozy against his once desperate touch.

the next morning you woke up tangled in his sheets, no clothes, as you remembered the previous nights events more than you expected too. a sleepy, yet awake george laid next to you, a soft smile forming on his lips once he noticed you had woke. you returned the smile, greeting george with a ‘good morning’ as the sun pooled from the window, illuminating your face. “can we do that again sometime?” george spoke, last nights confidence still prominent. you let out a laugh, a reluctant one at that, “please.” was all you chuckled out as you let your body lay onto george’s. george placed his hand on your jaw, turning your head slightly to expose the side of your neck. a chuckle escaped his lips, “well, hope you can cover that up — we’ve gottta film today.” george winked, memories of the loving bruises he had left on your neck coming back to you. you were sure to relive this night with george again; your skin already missing the feeling of his on yours.

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bon2bonn · 5 months

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In daydreams with me

Charles leclerc X female!reader X Max Verstappen

This is set in an au! With CEO!Max and professor! Charles .

Words count : 1.7k

*I'm in my lestappen mood so here we are ✨

The shuffling beside (y/n) snapped her attention away from the book she was reading for the past half hour or so , looking down as a low groan came from Max when he turned around, moving to settle his head on her stomach with his face buried in her (Charles's) oversized shirt With one arm around her as she cradled her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion .

He was still tired from pulling an all-nighter the night before , receiving an emergency meeting call due to some mixed up in emails causing his day to bile up with calls and online meeting until the early hours of the day locked away in his office . Leaving you and Charles to take care of him , bringing him meals and water every now and then even little Alec and baby Mila would pop in to give him a hug sharing candy to lift up his mood or to just say hi , her and Charles stayed up checking on him through the night even though he'd scold them both not to on his behalf but he still grateful for their care .

And instead of cancelling the next day he insisted on going , for it's rare for them and their families to find time to gather without someone having to cancel due to mixed schedule , so they took the chance to spend the day out at sea as her father invited them all to his yacht for the day , having more space for the kids to roam around and their parents to spend relaxing time with family away from the bustling city .

They were to first to arrive followed by Sophie and Victoria along with her boys both exited to spend time with their cousins , then the leclercs and her brother came last , late as usual, getting teased by everyone as he made up excuses . And it didn't take long for them to set sails leaving the harbour behind .

Everyone got comfortable chatting and catching up on what's life been since the last gathering , the kids ever the energy balls they are now doubled with them reunited it was a havoc in the making but they stayed well behaved playing and chatting their uncles ears off about something they thought .

Baby Mila stayed with her grandad babbling on with him about God knows what both content as he went around with her clinging to him , refusing to let go even when Charles tried to take her leaving him with a permanent pout until Luka came running up to him to tell him about something , getting his full attention within seconds .

That left her with Pascale , Sophie and Victoria to stay in the shade , carrying on catching up from where they left the conversation with them when the meals were served . Starting with upcoming birthdays parties and planning on going to camping trips before the end of summer break , up to discreetly trying to set the youngest (her brother and Arthur) up on dates , but that would take more planning and scheming .

Around midday max found his way to her , greeting her with a kiss and a tired smile as he crawled up on the couch beside her , he must ran out of energy as it shows in his dropping eyes and slow steps . humming with half closed eyes as he saw the closed book that lays on the side , she took note waiting for him to settle before she grabbed it and started reading to him in a soothing tone running her fingers through his hair massaging his scalp lightly , not two minutes later she felt his breathing slowed and his body relaxed as he drifts to sleep with his arm draped around her waist , Charles came by a couple of times having seen Max walking up the second floor to her tiredly , he worried about him but he felt relieved as he found him cuddled up to her fast asleep so he left them with kisses on both their heads before going back down .

And now as he woke up still drowsy from his deep slumber but more rested than before , looking up at her apologetically " sorry lifeenje I kept you here all day " she shook her head "no , don't worry love . We still got the whole weekend ahead , and I'm glad you took some rest " giving him a kiss on the head , going back to read with Max now having his head on her shoulder following the lines with his eyes she read them aloud , but stopped as both looked up as Charles approached them leaning over to greet them with kisses before sitting beside them , reaching to take Max's hand in his giving it a squeeze after placing a kiss on the back of it , " how do you feel Mon Amour?" Max smiled up at him interlocking their fingers before answering " I'm alright now lieveling , how is it down there ? " Charles only groaned " I'm about to throw Arthur off deck , (B/N) too if they kept teasing me , and Enzo is ditching me for the kids , I'm not going down there anytime soon !" Both laughed at his dramatic act as he laid on top of them groaning dramatically " even my Mila won't comfort me ! What a cruel world!" Glaring at them playfully he added " don't laugh at my misery !" .

Y/n gave him comforting pats on his back " you know they love to target you the most , it's their way to show their love for you" Charles gave her a disbelieving look " they bully me!" She shrugged at him " it's the same thing" causing him to groan again as Max agreed to her statement before moving to squeeze himself between them , they both gave sounds of protest as he shifted and turned moving them to the sides as he settled himself face down , his head on her shoulder now and his arm going around Max who moved back to give them more space to lay comfortably as they could be with them tangled with each other , but nevertheless enjoying the silence and the lull of the waves .

It didn't take long for Alec to make his way to his parents , both tired and crashing down from the sugar rush he had after his youngest uncles snuck him and his cousins, leaving them cranky and tired , so now he's done for the day making his way straight to his mother's side , climbing and settling between her and Charles and reaching over demanding Max to hold his hand , who did after he leaned over to plant a kiss on his head , drifting as his parents watched over him fondly .

They talked quietly among themselves, minding their sleeping boy as they spoke in a hushed tone getting lost in their conversation , but they turned their heads as a distraught (B/N) with Arthur beside him held out a pouting Mila with her fists balled and up as if ready to fight , her nose scrunched up and her frown is permanent as she whines at her parents , Max chuckled at their state after one look at them , their hair looked like birds nests , and they looked like they've been through a fight and they both lost . He reached carefully to take her from their outstretched arms before asking in amusement as she immediately clutched onto him " what have you done to get her this upset?" , They both scoffed at her as she turned to glare up at them " we did nothing! your spawn got offended! , she saw us teasing Charles and went for blood!" , Causing the little girl to glare even more as she took what looked to them as a threatening sniff before looking up at her dad innocently pointing at her uncles with a whine her mother looked mildly amused as her and Charles cooed over her " my baby would never! , Right Mila ? " Charles agreed as he took her next prepping kisses around her face causing her to let out joyous giggles"that's right, my Mila is too sweet to do such thing! Look at her , is this the face of someone who can do such thing!?" He held her up to their faces as he stood up , careful not to wake the sleeping boy , and both of them stepped back as she reach out her small hand to them .

Pascale sat back along with Sophie , both watching in amusement as their little granddaughter reached out her grabby hands giggling as Charles held her up chasing after the Arthur and (B/N) , voicing in a joking manner " I believe that (B/N) and Arthur thought they were invincible and nothing could touch them , but God sent Mila to humble them both " , Charles laughed the loudest as he sat down helping her to balance her feet while holding her arms "is that right Milly ?, You were defending dada ! That's my baby ! Teach them not to mess with me " she gave him a wide toothless smile as she kicked her feet as if agreeing with him both now grinning as they made their way down to follow their new quest of scaring her uncles and claiming revenge for Charles .

Max watched them disappearing down the stairs giving Y/N a thoughtful look " imagine if she could walk ", she countered back equally amused " imagine if she have teeth !" Max made an ooooh sound before they both started chuckling but stopped as the boy who now slept in hi mother's arms shifted slightly but kept sleeping , giving eachother a knowing smile as they settled back hearing Arthur's and her (B/N) shout's followed by the girl's giggles " get her away from me ! , Charles I'm telling Maman on you!" , Charles taunted them both " tell her what , little Mila just wants to show you her love , isn't that right Milly? " Followed with loud squeal from the said girl as in confirmation .

Max turned his head with thoughtful look as he asked " should we held them ? " She shrugged then shook her head " they deserve it " .

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photo1030 · 4 months

Note

Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda

Hi, Kids!

So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.

**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.

LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND

Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life.

*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.

Masterlist

Tagging: @daisybvck

The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately.

Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you.

Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same.

You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.

Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.

You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?”

Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.

“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”

A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition.

“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”

Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you.

“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.

Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.

Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right.

Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”

A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little.

“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now.

“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”

You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.

Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.

You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.”

‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice.

“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic.

“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”

Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness: he can never say no to you.

“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.

The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.

Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home.

Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.

“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time.

“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.

“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.

You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.

“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink.

Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.

“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge.

Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now.

You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.

Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life.

The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down.

“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.

The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.

You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him.

“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”

“Interesting,” muses Robert.

“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.

“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.

“I do.”

“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”

“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly.

“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.

“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.

“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again.

Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table.

“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse: do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?

Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave.

The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.

“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.

“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason.

“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?”

“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”

Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past.

When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps.

Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming.

“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.

“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips.

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation.

“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips.

“No?”

“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.”

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you.

“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.

“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.

“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter.

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

Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.

After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek.

Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“A beer, please.”

“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task.

You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.

“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.

“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you.

“Robert is about to get on a train.”

“Mmhmm”.

“Arthur-”

“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”

“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.

“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.

“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all.

“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.”

Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.

“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.

“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.

Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship: the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all.

Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.

The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either.

“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey.

“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.

He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it.

And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now: you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity.

With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.

The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors.

“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender.

With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door.

Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger.

“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you.

“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.

“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street.

“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”

“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around.

But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.

Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so.

“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek.

Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core.

Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next.

Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips.

Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.

Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath.

With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office.

“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.

“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger.

“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.”

Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you.

He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.

“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes.

He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.

When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”

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

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lordofthecherubs · 2 months

Text

You're so pretty when I'm all over your mouth

“Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”

“Please, do.”

And you were going to lick the plate clean.

Warnings/Tags: Smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Takes place during the Shady Belle Arc. Reader is a vampire.

The sound of crickets chirping amongst the soft breeze the wind provided was all that distracted you from what was truly on the forefront of your mind right now.

It was that time of the month.

And no, not that time. This was something different.

It was time for you to feed.

Typically, whenever you had these urges, they would go away from simply taking the blood of various animals that you hunted. That’s why you always liked to go hunting alone, unlike Hosea or Charles.

This would have been an easy effort to maintain had it not been for Dutch constantly making the gang move from place to place due to his inability to keep quiet and stay out of the limelight. Constantly having to pack up and go as quick as you could, it reminded you all too much of the incidents in Blackwater, where you lost Jenny and Davey. If only you had more time, you might’ve been able to save them. But you were weak then, and you’re becoming weak now.

Now, the gang resides in a camp they call Shady Belle. It was pretty spacious in comparison to other places you had stayed, an abandoned home in the center of the property. Some members of the gang got to stay inside it, while the rest opted (some more begrudgingly than others), to remain outside in their tents. While Miss Grimshaw had originally wanted you take a place inside the building, you declined; insisting it belong to Abigail and Jack.

So, here you were in your tent. It was on the smaller side, and only provided a slight amount of privacy. Not that you needed much, given the fact the gang had all seen each other at their worst and their best. However, given your… condition, it would’ve been nice to have a place where you weren’t entirely aware of everything going on around you. Along with the urge to drain the blood out of somethings body for your own sake, your senses were heightened. Every smell, feeling, and noise was on another level. You couldn’t miss the way you heard slightly heavy breaths from the tent nearest to yours if you tried. It was Arthur’s tent.

Arthur was one of the most respected members in the gang. In a way, it was like he was Dutch’s son. He also happened to be one of the few who could bring you out of your shell, as strange as that sounded. He was just different. Of course you liked to hang around and drink with the guys, while simultaneously spending time with the women and helping with chores. But you couldn’t help but detach yourself from them. You were hiding something. They were not.

Maybe Arthur was too. Maybe that’s why you feel like you can be yourself around him.

Maybe that’s why the way his slightly musky scent drifting into your direction made your mouth water.

No, stop it. Do not feed on people. Especially people you know.

You couldn’t help but shift around in your makeshift bed, the only thought consuming your head being hunger. Perhaps it would be best to just go hunt a rabbit, but it was far too risky to go alone as you felt yourself growing weaker by the minute.

Letting out a low groan of annoyance, you shoved your paling face into your pillow, hoping that maybe you’d be able to just sleep it off. The sound of crickets and frogs along the shore filled your ears, and you urged yourself to just go to sleep, forcing your eyes shut.

A throat cleared itself behind you.

Almost instantly, you shot up into a defensive position, having not heard whoever it was walk up to where you were.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Arthur.

You relaxed back onto your bed, sighing out in relief before making eye contact with the man in front of you.

“It’s okay, you didn’t scare me, just hadn’t heard you walk up is all.” You half-lied.

The cowboy let out a laugh. “Didn’t scare you? You looked like a bat outta hell!”

You’re sure he didn’t intend for that to be a pun.

“I just came to see if you were alright. You been tossin’ and turnin’ all night by the sounds of it.”

Of course he noticed.

Arthur noticed a lot of things when it came to you, weirdly enough. He took note of how your skin was always cold despite sitting in front of the campfire, and the way your ears were able to hear things that he wouldn’t have until a few minutes later.

“Oh.” You began to grow nervous, rubbing the back of your neck. “Y-yeah, I’m alright, couldn’t really get to sleep.”

He nodded, pretending not to see through the way you were lying to him. He was determined to dig deeper, for some reason.

“You wanna go on a walk with me?”

***

Upon reaching the entrance of the Shady Belle property, you found Arthur waiting for you, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“All ready to go?” He asked, tossing it to the ground before grinding it down beneath his boot.

All you did was nod, hoping he would take the lead with things tonight.

It couldn’t have been any later than midnight, you were surprised at his admission to not being able to sleep either. Normally, you’d be able to strike up a playful conversation with Arthur easily. But tonight, you were on edge. You hoped he didn’t notice.

As the two of you headed deeper into the forest surrounding the camp, Arthur broke the silence again.

“So, what’s got you up all night, cowpoke? Regretting not taking a room in the house now?” He joked, though you could tell his question was coming from a place of genuine concern.

You forced a laugh, fiddling with the leather of your holster. “I guess you could say that,” you quietly agreed, avoiding eye contact. There was a heat burning in your chest. God, did he smell this good all the time?

“You’re not lyin’ to me now, are ya?” The cowboy pressed, stopping in his tracks beside a tree.

You looked up, attempting to read his face for a motive. But, classic Arthur Morgan style, he lowered his head, leaving his face covered by a black cowboy hat.

You didn’t have the energy to play along with his games tonight.

“And if I am?”

You hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but the humid warmth of the air sticking to your skin mixed with his overbearingly strong scent, you couldn’t help but grow antsy.

Arthur raised his head, green eyes piercing into yours. His expression remained unreadable, though you could tell he was searching for what to say, leaving the tension between you two so thick it could be cut with a knife.

The outlaw didn’t hide the way he looked you up and down, and had it been anyone else, you wouldn’t have welcomed his approaching proximity so easily.

Standing before you, staring down at you, you couldn’t make out what he was trying to do. Intimidate you? That wasn’t like him.

At first, you remained looking at his chest, a button down shirt was all that stayed in your line of sight before him.

“Look at me,” He softly said. “Please.”

Inhaling sharply, you raised your head, craning your neck upwards to find his gaze. “If somethin’s botherin’ you, if someone did somethin’…” He trailed off, examining your face for any emotion.

You let a few beats pass before answering. You needed time to think. What do you say to that? You can’t tell him what’s really going on, but you didn’t want to lie either.

The wind blew a couple leaves around the two of you, stray pieces of hair on Arthur’s forehead moving along with them. You bit your tongue momentarily, as if that would satiate the urge to sink your teeth into the exposed skin of his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

This was becoming impossible.

“It’s nothing like that, Arthur. I-It’s…” You focused on your words carefully. “It’s just something you wouldn’t understand.”

A bit harsh, but sometimes things needed to be that way. Otherwise he’d confuse you for glass and see right through you.

You could tell he was a bit hurt by those words, the way his jaw clenched was proof enough. However, he wanted to help. He wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Then help me understand.”

The cowboy stepped closer. Closer than he had ever been before. It was all becoming too much, those same heightened senses betraying you all at once. His slightly sweaty skin shining in the moonlight, looking so desperate to have your teeth sunk into it. His overbearing scent filling your nose, making your mouth water.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“I don’t know if I can, Arthur.”

Thinking logically, what could you even say to him? Hey, Arthur, I know we’ve been running together in the gang for this long, but I forgot to mention that I’m a vampire! And, if you step any closer to me, I may lose my mind, draining your blood in the process!

Knowing Arthur, there were two reactions he could have to that. Laughing in your face, or killing you on the spot.

Both were not favorable.

Calloused fingers caressed your face, his palm held your cheek upwards to ensure you were looking at him.

“Try. For me, cowpoke.”

Maybe this is how he would kill you.

Maybe you would like it.

You were sure your eyes were glazed over at this point. Your fangs poked the inside of your cheek, and your mouth filled with saliva at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. You wouldn’t last much longer like this.

With a shaky breath, you decided it was now or never.

“There’s just… something I need, but can’t exactly get. At least— not on my own.” You attempted to explain, lacking attention in the possible underlying tones your words carried.

Arthur gulped, sweat growing behind his neck. Clearly, his mind had gone south. “You mean…”

You knew what he thought you meant, and you stepped closer to where he stood, the already small distance between the two of you was nearly entirely closed up.

“No, Arthur,” You nearly pushed yourself forward into his chest, grasping at his shoulder to make him lean down, attempting to get your voice in his ear.

“I want your blood.” You said, just above a whisper.

Arthur pulled back, wanting to meet your eyes and make sense of the situation. What he was met with would never leave his head.

The once confident outlaw cowboy nearly buckled his knees at your gaze. Your eyes, full of want, something he thought he would never see from you in his life.

Chills ran up and down his spine, the same he’d get but never admit to having when finding himself cornered by an enemy.

Only, these were different. He almost wanted to lean into it. He almost needed it.

You looked at him like he was a meal.

Something stiffened in his pants.

And you could smell it. The aroma of arousal flooded you, making you swipe your tongue out from inside your mouth and slide over your lips. It was then that he caught a glimpse of your fangs, eyes widening.

The man realized he hadn’t spoken up since your initial comment, clearing his throat the same way he did when he creeped up on you at your tent.

“You can have it. It’s yours.”

What a careless thing to say.

In an instant, almost like a choreographed dance, you launched yourself forward, Arthur wrapping his hands around your waist as you clung to him, listening to the way your breathing grew heavy beside his ear.

“Mine, huh?” You heaved, teasingly dragging your teeth along his neck, loving the way he weakly lowered himself to his knees, soon laying flat on his back with you straddled on top of him.

Your palms laid flat against his chest, and you leaned down to lick over the spot you intended to sink your teeth into. Your jaw fell slack as you prepared to take your feast, but you paused when you felt something poke your behind.

A devious laugh erupted from you. “What’s this?” You asked, reaching a hand behind you to palm at his throbbing erection.

Arthur wiped a hand down his face. “Can’t help it when you’re on me like this, angel.”

Angel. His chosen term of endearment was angel. You could hear the way his heart pounded in his chest, the mixed scent of fear and arousal clouded around him, and he still called you angel.

Pressing your hips down to grind against him, you drank in the way he threw his head back instantly, his hat knocking off his head to display messy brown hair.

"Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”

“Please, do.”

And you were going to lick the plate clean.

The heat of his skin was becoming too much for you to hold back any longer, nearly launching forward towards his neck with your teeth bared. Without any warning, you snapped your fangs into him. The skin was soft, though tender, given the fact that he was a muscular man.

And he whined.

Arthur Morgan, killer, robber, and wanted man across states and cities, whined.

The cowboy’s firm hand steadied on your hips, his grip nearly bruising. The feeling of his neck being punctured into and fed from left him lightheaded, and he pleaded with himself to not pass out. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.

The sound of you humming feverishly against his skin, nails digging into his shoulders, and the slight continuous grind of your hips onto where he needed it most, he felt like he was in a dream.

After a few minutes, the initial point of penetration didn’t hurt anymore, leaving his senses to align with what he was feeling next. To ask a man with as limited of a vocabulary as he had to describe the feeling of the blood being drained from his body was a mistake. Because, he wouldn’t know what to say, other than that it was perfect.

The same way Reverend Swanson was addicted to substances, or John to troublemaking, he could become addicted to this.

Time passed, and you eventually pulled away, a mess of drool and blood left on the cowboys neck and your lips.

He wanted to kiss you. Your lips were swollen and covered in the red substance, your hair a mess atop your head, and your eyes half-lidded. He needed to kiss you.

“I’m sorry, that was probably really—“

The same rough hand from before grabbed behind your neck, pulling you down to his lips for a desperately rough kiss, the metallic taste of himself causing him to buck his hips upwards into nothing.

It had to be nearing morning now. The air had lost it’s humidity, and if not for the heat growing between the two of you, it would’ve been cold enough for goosebumps to litter your skin.

The cowboy didn’t hear a word you said, regaining his strength and flipping you over so that he was now on top of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed beneath him.

“Aw, gone shy on me now, cowpoke?” Arthur teased, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

He leaned down and kissed you again, though this time, he didn’t remain on your lips for long. The scruff of his stubble prodded against your skin as he lowered himself down, kissing your neck and collarbones.

“You said you were gonna eat me alive, right, angel?” He asked, holding himself up to look down at you.

Your cheeks flushed, and you nodded, avoiding his eyes.

“Looks like you held back. Can’t have been easy for you, sweet thing, I know,” He paused, grabbing your cheeks roughly to force you to look at him. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Brows pitched upwards on your face, your hips subconsciously rolled upwards at his gravelly voice and sudden dominant nature.

A smirk filled the outlaws face, and he reached down to undo the top buttons of your pants.

“Now, you’re not so desperate you’d take my blood and want me to fuck you, are you cowpoke?”

Biting down on your lip, you didn’t care that you nearly caused yourself to bleed.

Arthur’s large hand reached into your pants, his fingers prodding over the wet spot in your panties.

He hummed. “Guess you are.”

You reached out to dig your nails into his arm as he rubbed his fingers against your bundle of nerves, silently pleading with him for more.

“Gotta use your words, angel. Can’t know what you want ‘less you tell me.”

“P-please, Arthur…need you,” You pleaded, opting to reach down and pull down your pants for him.

The cowboy stopped you in your tracks, pulling them down gently the rest of the way, admiring the way your slick glistened in the moonlight.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He was growing light-headed from the blood loss, and if his pants got any tighter, he might’ve lost his mind right then and there.

With that, he shoved his own pants down along with his boxers, revealing his length to you.

At first, you stared, shocked. The way it bobbed upwards and throbbed, leaking from the tip, you felt bad for teasing him.

Then, gone went your own undergarments, your bottom half on full display to Arthur. If someone told you a few hours ago you’d be in the situation you were in right now, you’d laugh in their face.

But here you are, Arthur Morgan on top of you, lining himself up with your dripping mess of a cunt.

“If it’s too much, tell me.” He said, clearly trying to keep his composure above you.

All it took was a nod, and he slowly pushed himself forward into you, causing you both to gasp.

The grip you had on his arm tightened, the slight pain of him stretching you out engulfing your senses.

Arthur, on the other hand, was doing everything in his power not to slam himself into you without any time to adjust.

He was nicer than that, so he refrained by biting down on his lip. He wouldn’t last long like this, with the way you were so tight around him, pulling him deeper inside.

Once he was fully inside you, Arthur allowed you some time to get used to him, admiring the way you looked beneath him.

“Just tell me when you’re—“

“For the love of God, Arthur. If you don’t move I’m going to lose my mind.” You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Pulling out slightly, then thrusting forward, he couldn’t help the way a groan slipped past his lips.

But it was nothing compared to you. Typically, you liked to remain modest and not cause too much commotion. Though, was that at all possible when a cowboy just let you drink his blood, and was now fucking you like it was nothing?

It was almost overwhelming, the way you both came together like this. You had been so wound up, the feeling of the band in your stomach snapping was approaching rapidly, and it didn’t help when he reached down and began to rub at your clit, a new wave of pleasure added on top of what you were already experiencing.

It was all too much, really. In the best way possible.

“A-Arthur, ‘m close…” You warned, eyes nearly shut as you whined loudly.

“I know, angel, me too,” He said between thrusts, groaning out momentarily. “Need you to be good and cum for me, okay? Can you do that, darlin’?”

You nodded quickly, as if you had any say in the matter.

It all happened so fast, white-hot pleasure you had never felt before ripping through your entire body, tears filling your eyes as you reached a climax like no other. Not far behind, Arthur’s speed was growing sloppy, and he readied to pull himself out of you, but you grabbed his arm again.

“Inside, please,” You begged, cheeks stained with tears as you looked up at him. Almost instantly, that was enough for him. His hips snapped forward, releasing himself inside of you as per your wishes.

The sound of labored breathing filled your ears as he fell down on top of you, catching his breath. You were content to lay on the ground like this with him forever if he’d let you, but you knew he would have questions as soon as he gathered his senses.

Arthur rolled off of you, matching you by laying on his own back, his hand wiping sweat from his forehead.

A beat of silence.

“…So, you’re a vampire, then?”

You wanted to giggle at the bluntness of his question.

“Yes, you could call it that,” You hummed, turning your head to look at him. A drop of blood began to slide down his neck, and you almost instantly shot your hand forward to wipe it with your thumb, bringing it to your mouth.

It was greedy. But he liked it.

Another beat of silence.

“D’you think the camp heard us?”

You both erupted into laughter, soon ending in the cowboy pulling you onto himself, assaulting your face with kisses.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while now, cowpoke.”

You met his eyes. “Do what? Fuck me in the woods just outside camp, or let me suck your blood?”

Arthur flicked your forehead gently.

“Kiss you, smartass.”

So he did it again. And again. And again until you had to push him away because it started to tickle you, and the rising sun began to appear in the corner of your eye.

“We should head back, Arthur.”

“In a minute, I wanna see these things…” He muttered, using his fingers to part your jaw and expose your fangs. “Jesus! Those were inside my neck?”

Playfully, you bit down on his finger. “Sure were, now stop stalling.”

There were more questions that weighed on his mind, but he knew you probably wanted to get back and relieve yourself into some much needed sleep.

Helping you up, you leaned into his side while his arm wrapped around you, the two of you quietly making your way to camp, dawn breaking.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #vampire reader #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan x vampire reader #smut #rdr2 smut #vampire au #Arthur Morgan one shot #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #red dead redemption 2 fic #idk how tags work on here #Spotify

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meeks-just-wants-to-scroll · 2 months

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Kieran Duffy Mini Analysis

Since I struggle to imagine how Kieran’s facial and body expressions are portrayed, I compiled some notes on clips and dialogue. Uploading for other Kieran fans to enjoy.

To the point: Kieran is not a stammering short coward. He is a plucky man who can stand his ground and leans into his whiny feebleness when his life depends on it. He’s funny and has more guts socially than much of the VDL gang!

I’m chapter 1, we get introduced to him with cowering after being slapped by Colm and fleeing rather than fight. Kieran isn’t a coward, more like a guy who squirms, lies, and pleads if his life depends on it. I suggest you read this post for more info on how Kieran’s apparent feebleness is an exaggeration he puts on to survive in a cut throat gang. After given time to wallow in the stables in Colter, Kieran starts putting up a fight and threatens the VDL gang with the O’Driscolls coming for them for taking him hostage. He fights his restraints and holds angry eye contact with his captors, only breaking breaking when the conversation ends and he falls over again. From what I can tell, Kieran always has a grumpy face whenever interacted with. He boldly says he’d rather die to Arthur’s face!

It’s in chapter 2 where his fight becomes more desperate from the starvation and abuse. He by no means gives up, he keeps up blabbering that he “ain’t an O’Driscoll” even tho he ends up divulging information and seems to know a suspicious lot about Colm and the O’Driscolls.

Mid chapter 2 and onwards, he mellows out into a guy who tries to be as nice and as unobtrusive as possible. He still keeps eye contact when speaking and even puts assertiveness behind some of his words. He has the guts to say to people’s face to leave him alone and stop fucking with him. He also doesn’t shy from grumbling and making “oh come on!🙄” gestures when verbally harassed by the gang. He visibly gets frustrated when called an O’Driscoll but he usually has to calm himself down till he can respond dejectedly rather than actually angrily. He did get upset with Sean and stand in front of him with no cowering to stand his ground when called an O’Driscoll (until he got headbutted).

He thanks people and sounds amused and surprisingly relaxed for his situation. (Idk how to explain it but) he has a smile in his tone of voice in some dialogue. Sometimes greets Arthur in a chipper way. Sweet! Even has the emotional vulnerability to apologize to Abigail about Jack going missing. Kieran asserts his value to the club by taking pride in his horse knowledge and fishing skill. He sternly Arthur he’ll “teach him something” when it comes to fishing. See, useful!

He is still easily threatened by the gang if they get up in his face or yell. He leans away, goes silent, slowly pulls his hands closer to his chest, and goes still when intimidated. It takes a few seconds before he relaxes afterwards. This is what I consider the extent of his cowardly behavior. He just shuts up and backs off. He only ups his pleading and squirming when his life actively depends on it.

Headcanon territory: after listening to ~7 minutes of cut Kieran fighting audio, I can definitely say that this man has some lungs on him! The rasp to his voice makes me think he’s worked his voice hoarse (haha, horse pun) enough times to leave permanent damage/evidence in his voice. I think he damaged his voice while with the O’Driscolls. When he’d be on a job, he’d rely on shouting threats and malicious taunting to intimidate the enemy since his looks aren’t that scary. Plus, if he was amongst a group of O’Driscoll during a gunfight, no one would get a good look at him as he dips out of cover to shoot, they’d just hear his raspy shouting about “cutting all their damn throats” and “this ain’t gonna end pretty, boys” (this one is my favorite because if you listen to the line, you can REALLY hear the rasp in the “boys”).

I’m gonna go out on a limb and say (whether he admits it or not) Kieran does enjoy gunfights. Kieran by no means asked to join a life of crime and I am sure he did NOT want to kill anyone at the start, but over time shit corrupts and feeling the power of firing and seeing his enemies drop gave Duffy a semblance of control back to his life. In a gunfight, no colleagues pay attention to him and he can simply enjoy his brief power trip.

A more wholesome HC: much of the cut Kieran audio has him talking or greeting the other gang members with friendliness. He’s comfortable enough to tease or criticize the VDL gang. I imagine these lines would’ve been for a version where he gets to stick with the gang long enough for him to be trusted and for him to relax into his natural personality! Kieran still has his mumbly quiet moments (usually when exhausted) but he also sounds like he’s smiling more and even making jokes. Even makes harmless jabs at Arthur if he returns to camp bloodied or dirty. Has the courage to ask questions (I can’t find the exact line but I heard a couple where he was asking Arthur what he was doing in “his space” and if he needed to borrow “his things” so Kieran was either given or claimed ownership of stuff) and set boundaries (many cut quotes of Kieran asking others to buzz off or give him space because he wants to be alone). He’ll even express his anger if you push his buttons too much. After ramping down his nature to be this declawed version of himself, I imagine being no only bark but bring on the bite feels amazing.

Tldr: Kieran isn’t your baby girl. He is a kick ass ex-O’Driscoll who is a great asset to the VDL gang.

I also wanna mention that this post utterly changed how I thought of Kieran. I suggest giving it a read!

#meeks rambles #rdr text post #rdr2 spoilers #rdr #rdr2 community #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #kieran duffy #character analysis #meek’s headcanons #edit: I added more of a dialogue analysis after reading on how Kieran is not as innocent as he seems

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roseghoul26 · 21 days

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Chapter 1: In A Faith-Forgotten Land

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny Author's Note: welcome to my first ever non-oneshot fic! hope you enjoy! Chapter List

The first time you met Arthur Morgan, you had quite literally crashed into the man.

It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal; you would’ve just said your apologies and went on your way, never to see each other again. And that’s what would’ve happened, if it wasn't for the fact that it was in your house, during the middle of the night, while he was trying to rob you.

You were no stranger to robberies, your house being a prime target for thieves; it was secluded, sitting in the rural area between Rhodes and Saint Denis; it was rich-looking, with three visible floors and a basement; and it had low security. The last issue you had tried many times to get resolved, but to no avail. Maybe this time you’d get your husband to spend the extra money for guards.

Normally, would-be thieves would be too loud as they entered, alerting either you or your husband of their presence, and he was able to scare them off before they could get their hands on anything.

This time, though, you hadn’t heard a single thing. The only reason you were downstairs in the kitchen was because you needed a glass of water. In the darkness, the only source of light being the candle in your hand and a few oil lamps outside, you hadn’t seen the form of the man, bumping straight into him as you rubbed sleep from your eyes.

The two of you stood deathly still, watching each other with bated breath. You hadn’t made a noise, even though the smart thing to do would be to start screaming your head off. Something about this felt… different, for some reason. You slowly brought up the light, making sure to not startle the intruder, just in case he had an eager trigger finger.

You weren’t able to gleam many details of the man, mainly because of the low light, but also because a bandana covered the lower half of his face. He had medium length hair, the color indiscernible, and he wore a simple blue button up and a pair of jeans. The most interesting thing you saw on him, though, was his hat. It was visibly well-loved, the leather ripped and worn from years of use, and you were able to make out a clear bullet-hole on the rim of it. A piece of rope wrapped around it, the material frayed and barely hanging on.

It was when you opened your mouth to speak that he moved, bringing a finger up to his covered lips in a hush gesture. “Don’t scream,” you heard him mutter. Whatever voice you were expecting the stranger to have, it certainly wasn’t that. It was low, gravely, with a pleasant drawl that had you shivering. Or maybe it was the cold. You were only in a nightgown, after all.

You shook your head fervently, creating wind that threatened to blow out the fragile flame of your candle, trying to express to the man without opening your mouth that you were in fact not about to cry for help. He seemed to relax at that, but it was difficult to tell what he was feeling, the only gauge being his eyes and hard to read body language.

“So,” you began, holding your free hand up reassuringly when he tensed up again, expecting you to go back on your word, like any sane person would do. “So,” you tried again, “what do you need?” You made sure to keep your voice as quiet as possible, not wanting to alert the other person in the house.

The stranger cocked his head, rightfully confused by your question. You confused yourself with your own question, but it was the only way you could think to proceed the conversation. “I ain’t quite sure what you mean, miss.”

“You're in here for a reason, so what is it? What do you need?” When you were met with silence, you were starting to get impatient. Hell, all you wanted was a glass of water and to go back to your warm bed, but now you had to deal with a stranger in your house. You half-debated just leaving him to his devices and dealing with the consequences in the morning. It’s not like you cared about the expensive items in your house; they didn’t even belong to you. “Money? Food? Shelter? Or are you here to extort Mr. Kerrigan?” You added with a chuckle, but only you seemed to find it amusing.

When he continued to stare at you like you’d grown a second head, you sighed. “Look, if you aren’t gonna say anything, then you should leave. He could wake up at any minute, and he isn’t going to be so nice about this.”

That seemed to do the trick, pulling him out of whatever deep thought he was in. You watched his eyes dance around, before he slowly started to back away. You saw that he was wearing spurs, which made his silent entry that much more bewildering. “You don’t gotta-”

Your name being called had you both freezing, and you saw him bring his finger up again. Turning your head to look up the staircase behind you, you were able to see the silhouette of your husband at the top, glancing down at you with hands on his hips. You heard him call out your name again, annoyance evident in his voice. Even without the attitude, it was much less pleasant sounding than the strangers, but now it was downright irritating. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you responded with a soft hm?

“Everything alright down there?”

Glancing back over at the intruder, your mouth gaped uselessly as you tried to come up with an excuse that would keep him upstairs. The man stood ready to bolt, not quite sure what you were about to say. “Yeah,” you stuttered out before he got even more annoyed. Your husband, Hans Kerrigan, was someone who did not wait for an answer. “I, uh, stubbed my toe,” you offered lamely, not sounding confident even to your ears.

Turning your head back to the staircase, you half-expected to see him descending, but were pleasantly relieved when you saw him still standing at the top. “You sure?” He questioned, and you nodded, even though you knew that he wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll be back up in a minute.”

After a moment of tense silence, you heard him sigh. “Alright. Just be quiet.” With that, his figure disappeared, and you let out a breath of relief. Turning your head back around, you were surprisingly disappointed to find empty air. For a moment, you stood there, fully convinced that you had just imagined the whole scenario.

The fading scent of gunpowder and tobacco told you that it was real.

Bewildered, you went to the front door, testing it with a few quick turns. It moved easily, no longer locked like it was hours prior, and you were sure to fix it. The next rational thing to do would be to plant something behind the door, because the intruder clearly would be able to lockpick it right back open, just as he had done the first time.

Instead, you turned back toward the kitchen, continuing out on the task you had originally set out to do. You were definitely not as thirsty as you were minutes ago, but you still poured a small glass just for the sake of it, and you set down the candle on the counter. Sipping slowly, you couldn’t get the man out of your head, for multiple reasons. The most obvious reason was that he had broken into your house, so of course you were going to be thinking about it. But you would be a liar if you said that there wasn’t something… alluring about him. His voice was already plaguing your mind, and there was an almost kindness about him that you weren’t expecting that had you replaying the events in your head.

There were so many things that he could’ve done to hurt you, but he didn’t. Not once did he reach for a weapon, remembering now the gun belt hanging loosely from his hips. Not once did he seriously threaten you, only telling you to not scream for help. Not once did he make any move to restrain or hurt you, keeping his space. You knew that it was crazy that something like that would be the epitome of kindness for you, but it wasn't like you were seeing it anywhere else. He was probably the nicest interaction you’d had in the last year, maybe even longer. God, did you enjoy the company of the man who broke into your house?

Having long since finished the small cup, you set in gently on the countertop, the glass ringing out with a soft noise. Not quite ready to go back to bed, you made your way to one of the windows that lined the front of the house, glancing out into the night-filled yard. Trees swayed in the wind as you gazed over the yard, and it looked undisturbed, the only sign of life being a small skunk that skittered across the grass. After closer examination, however, you were able to see a light trail of footprints in the dirt path leading to the front door, one set heading toward it and another moving away. You hoped that the wind would carry them away by the morning.

A couple minutes of watching out the window turned into several, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of the man. It was only when a cold draft from the window hit your body, causing you to shiver. Right, you were only in your nightgown. Running your hands up and down your body, you tore yourself away, quickly making your way back up the stairs after grabbing the candle.

Skipping the first room that greeted you when you reached the top, you opened the second room’s door slowly, extinguishing the candle's flame with a puff of air. Your bed greeted you, and you were able to see the shape of Hans under the covers, back facing your side of the bed. Stepping softly across the wooden floors, you slipped under the silk sheets without making any noise. The bed shifted under your weight, and you froze, waiting to see if you woke the man beside you. When he didn’t stir, you settled in fully, still warm from when you were laying in it earlier.

You really did try to fall asleep, trying to think of anything besides the stranger, but you found yourself going back to him in your mind. You really shouldn’t be thinking about him this much, but you found yourself not caring. This was the most interesting thing to happen in a while, so you were going to enjoy it while you could.

As you tossed and turned in your bed, you were eventually able to fall asleep, your dreams luckily free of the stranger. Yet one thought rang through your mind the entire time.

You needed to see him again.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Rhodes was a quaint town, red dust painting every surface available, and contained a few businesses that provided a livable amount of money for the town.

You hated it.

It was definitely a quaint town, old-fashioned in every sense of the world, stuck in pre-war ideas and mindsets. The dust was irritating, staining anything remotely light a deep russet red, which took hours to get out. And the businesses there would be fine if they weren’t blindly loyal to the Gray family, and showed nothing but contempt for outsiders.

You would’ve liked to stay home today, as it was far enough away from the godawful town that you didn’t have to deal with it, but here you were, stuffed into a tight carriage with your husband across from you. He needed to run into the town today, needing to talk with the bank there about something you weren’t quite sure about. He purposely kept you out of his business affairs, claiming that it was no talk for a lady.

You knew very little about your husband’s job, besides for the fact that he was very wealthy and very powerful. You also knew that he ran some kind of distillery of sorts, but that’s about it. Whenever you asked, he shrugged you off.

So you had kept your mouth shut when he woke you this morning, bringing you to accompany him during his short trip. Like normal, you had gotten ready on your own, Hans disappearing into his office. You had felt a strange calling to wear a blue dress today, and you kept your hair free of any pins and ribbons, not quite wanting to put the effort into your appearance today. You were tired, but you hadn't been able to remember why.

It was when you had headed downstairs, past the locked door of his office, that you remembered. A large, dusty footprint dirtied the kitchen floor, which you normally kept pristine. It had all come back to you then like a wave, the strange man in your house. His voice, his demeanor, the clothes he wore, everything. With a gasp, you had quickly swept away the mark with your stocking-covered foot, most likely dirtying the garment, but you didn’t care. You just had to get it out of sight before Hans came downstairs.

You had barely managed to make it disappear before you heard the creak of the stairs as he descended them, an indiscernible look on his face as he regarded you. After exchanging your usual morning pleasantries, and after you had made him a cup of coffee, the two of you had set out , boarding the carriage that he had hired for the house. Even after two years of marriage, you still hadn’t wrapped your head around the sheer amount of money Hans had.

Tucked into Ringneck Creek, your house was surrounded completely by thick forest and shallow water, with ample amounts of wildlife that were enjoyable to watch. The natural formation of the ground had been altered, though, when the house was built, having created a path that connected it to the main road, but it was still quite a ways from it. It made the ride to towns that much longer, though.

So now here you sat, fiddling with your bag as you watched the passing greenery.You had about a ten minute ride to Rhodes, and about twenty to the bigger city of Saint Denis, so you settled back into your seat, your husband staring out the window in a similar manner, as there was never much to talk about between the two of you.

It was crazy to you, that you’d been married for only two years, because it sure as hell felt longer than that. And it wasn’t like you had a choice when it came to marrying the man across from you. Your parents needed the money, at risk of losing their entire tobacco industry that they created, so they had married you off to Hans Kerrigan, the rich businessman who’d been a bachelor longer than you’d been alive. He needed a wife, and they needed money, so it was an easy decision, one that you had no say in. Archaic, yes, but necessary.

Hans Kierrigan was at least twenty years your senior, with silver hair to account for his age. He wasn’t completely unattractive, no, but he certainly wasn’t your type, one big reason being how much older he was to you. A thick beard covered his lower face, and you had yet to see him without it. He had dull, steel-colored eyes, and his brow was always furrowed, like he was constantly deep in thought.

He wasn’t a terrible husband, but wet paper had more personality than him. He only cared about one thing, that being money, and trying to talk to him was like talking to a wall. You think you’ve only heard him crack one joke during the entire time you’ve known him, and it was when he was absolutely hammered. He provided for you, keeping your necessities fulfilled, and sent monthly allotments of money to your family to keep them afloat. In return, you remained loyal to him over the past years, you looked after the house, took care of him when need be, and were expected to bear him a child, which proved to be a more difficult task than imagined. You were also expected to keep up public appearances, Mr. And Mrs. Kerrigan the talk of towns, the American Dream couple.

He wasn’t mean, having never raised a hand to you or screamed at you, so for that you were grateful. He never touched you, quite frankly, and when the two of you were intimate, he would limit contact as much as possible.You knew that other girls in similar situations couldn’t say the same, so you counted your blessings, no matter how small they were.

However, just like any man, he had his flaws. He wasn’t a person to wait for things, expecting to receive them on a golden platter, and he never took ‘no’ for an answer. He was also extremely controlling, some days worse than others, and you always needed his permission before doing something. You wanted to go into the city? He was accompanying you, limiting you to certain areas. You wanted to send a letter? He was reading them, making you re-write them if he didn’t like the content. You wanted to learn how to garden? That time he had laughed in your face, and you never asked again.

Needless to say, you weren’t happy. You felt trapped, lonely, and like your life was coming to a complete standstill. You had dreams and aspirations before this marriage. You wanted to inherit the family’s business, you wanted to go to school, you wanted to travel the world. Hell, you had wanted a true relationship with someone, never having one before Hans. And now those dreams were buried in the dirt, rotting. You almost envied them.

The only moments you found yourself feeling some semblance of joy was when Hans went away, which happened quite frequently, and for long periods of time. During those days and weeks by your lonesome, you felt like you were able to move more freely, and you did things that he normally wouldn’t allow. You snuck into the city under the cover of the night. You had a little garden hidden behind some trees, where he was never going to find it, because he never explored the woods surrounding the house. If you had people to write to, you would’ve sent them countless letters. But even all that couldn’t combat the loneliness that you felt. It’s teeth sunk into your heart, poisoning everything you did with a melancholic venom.

But if your family was thriving, then you would force a smile on your face every morning. The eldest of ten siblings, it was your responsibility to make sure your family would have a successful future. If halting your own life meant everyone else got to continue with theirs, then you’d stay. But you missed them, not having seen them since the day your father had approached you with the marriage certificate in his hands and Hans trailing behind him. You knew they had moved houses soon after you got married, so if your husband would even let you send a letter to them, you had no idea where to send it to.

But you knew that they were well, which was all you needed to know. Sighing lightly, you felt Hans cold eyes on you, forcing you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong?” He asked, the question coming from a place of habit rather than care, and instinctively you felt a smile force its way onto your lips.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lied, and it sounded more confident than your lie last night. “Sorry.”

Either satisfied with your answer, or he simply didn’t care that much, he nodded, before returning to glance out the window. Every conversation with Hans felt scripted like that, and it was exhausting. Refraining from sighing again, you joined in looking out the window, you were startled to find the familiar shapes of Rhodes outside, the journey being pretty much over.

It only took another half-a-minute before the carriage was coming to a halt outside the bank, which was on your right. On your left you saw a prison wagon drive past, with two men on horses accompanying it. It wasn’t unusual for there to be a prison wagon in town, a lot of bounty hunters picking up work from the Scarlett Meadows Sheriff’s Office. What nearly caused you to stumble in surprise as Hans helped you out of the carriage was a familiar hat adorning the driver of the wagon. Yet again, you weren’t able to get a good glimpse of him, and Hans’ voice halted you from following the stranger with your eyes.

“I’ll be in there for a bit,” Hans explained, gesturing to the bank. “Go ahead and wait for me right out here.”

“Could I run to the store? I need some things for dinner tonight,” you felt the lie tumble from you before you could stop it.

Well, it wasn’t a complete lie, you did need to buy some supplies, but it definitely wasn’t what you were expecting to do today. He seemed to buy it, relenting after some thought. “Alright,” he started backing away toward the bank, “meet me over here when you’re done. Don’t take too long.” He paused for a moment. “You got enough money?” He asked, nodding to your bag which you held in one of your hands. It was kind of a ridiculous question, but you nodded anyway. Without another word, he walked into the bank, finally leaving you to your lonesome.

As quickly as you could without drawing attention to yourself, you crossed over to the store before avoiding it completely. The men had all dismounted their rides, their horses hitched up on to the post outside of the office. A group of four men stood at the base of the stairs, deep in conversation. The only person you were able to recognize was Sheriff Leigh Gray, who was partially facing you as he talked with the three unrecognizable men.

At least, two of them were unrecognizable.

That familiar hat became even more clear as you approached. It looked even more worn in the sunlight, the brown leather turning a sandy tan in certain spots. The owner of said hat had his back to you, but you were still able to hear his voice clearly. It was just as you remembered, gravely and low and you could listen to it for ages. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips as you approached, and you forgot how nice it was to have a genuine one. Your wish of seeing him again was happening faster than you thought it would.

You realized you had no idea what you were going to say to the men, causing you to second guess what you were doing. It’s not like you could go up and say Hey, weren’t you in my house last night? Luckily Leigh saved you from having to come up with anything, his concerned expression turning to a welcoming one as he finally saw you.

He clapped one of the men he was talking with on the shoulder, who had longer black hair that fell to his shoulders, slicked back with pomade. “You remember me tellin’ you ‘bout the Kerrigans?” The men gave partially-interested noises in response. “Well,” he gestured to you with his free hand, and the black haired man followed where he was pointing, turning around to face you completely. He was richly dressed, wearing something you’d see your husband wear, not a bounty hunter. Weird.

The other man also turned. He also had brown hair, with a thick beard similar to Hans’. He was chewing on a piece of straw, and you watched him play with the repeater in his hands, antsy. The only one who didn’t turn to you was the man with the hat, but you heard him hum inquisitively to Leigh as you halted a few feet behind the group.

“Let me introduce y’all to Mrs. Kerrigan.”

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

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g-xix · 4 months

Note

This might be a strange request but I was watching the new ItalianBach video with Alex, Cam and Arthur and I thought it was really funny and cute that a few times Arthur was like “wait I actually kind of like this.” I was wondering if you could do a little blurb or something with Arthur x Reader where the reader is scratching his back or his scalp or something and basically doing asmr on him without him realizing it’s asmr and teasing him abt the fact he likes it?

Head Scritches | ArthurTV

I normally take YEARS replying to oneshot reqs but this is so cute i litr banged this up in a DAY which isn't too bad... it is quite a short little blurb (great word btw) tho, but i hope you and everyone else reading enjoys nonetheless, anon!

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-just like sorta casually hanging about in Arthur's flat, j chilling n spending time together...

-You're lying across the sofa w ur legs spread across the cushions n Arthur's body on top of yours, cushioned between your legs and on his phone- switching between playing online chess and watching TikToks whilst waiting for his opponent to make the next move

-Your hand just sort of finds itself on his head after a bit, fingers just finding a path through his hair n moving only a little bit...

-"What're you doing?" Arthur mumbles, not moving to get you off, just intrigued with what exactly you were doing whilst he couldn't see you

-"I'm just massaging your head." You hummed, leaning your own head back to relax whilst your fingers threaded through his hair. "Do you want me to stop?"

-"...No, I don't think so." Arthur sounded unsure of himself, bringing a small chuckle from you as you continued your actions inattentively.

-Whilst you were lounging and happily relaxed, Arthur found himself... not agitated, but completely defenceless to how nice it felt. It felt like getting his hair done, but so much gentler and more soothing...

-He felt uncomfortable in how he was sat - he just wanted to lie down and sprawl out - relax all of his limbs and let his head fall limp against you whilst you just ran your hands over his head juuust like that...

-Yet Arthur didn't say a thing in not wanting you to stop what you were doing or think he was odd- or make him explain- or something trivial and unnecessary like that. No, instead he just closed his eyes briefly and savoured that way your fingers ran through his hair, fluffing and messying it. And as Arthur closed his eyes, he only felt more, particularly noticing the way your fingertips seemed to press into the back of his head, right where he had a headache- circling ever so slightly and seeming to chase the achy points away

-It was only when you absent-mindedly drummed your fingers over Arthur's scalp when you noticed Arthur's responses to your touch

-Withdrawing your arm from over your eyes (previously serving as an eyemask for you to rest), you realised that Arthur had literally had a whole-body shiver at what you'd done; drumming your fingers one by one over his scalp

-"Holy shit, sorry, are you okay?" You retracted your hand back from Arthur hastily, though your brows raised in even more surprise as he let out a near whine as you moved back(!) "Arthur...?"

-"Do that again please," He whimpered, the note of desperation on his voice drawing a slight laugh from your voice.

-"What, this?" You drummed each finger over his scalp again with a grin, his neck ticking as he let out a slight groan, drawing a full laugh from your chest, throwing your head back as well. "Is this your equivalent of ASMR?" You teased, seeing a pink flush rise up to Arthur's neck from behind as he stuttered a-

-"M-maaaybe..." In reponse before rushing, "Pleasedon'tstopthough-" which only drew another hearty laugh from you, your fingers reconnecting to Arthur's head nonetheless and messaging over his scalp and running your fingers though his head.

-"Sure I won't," You mumbled in response after a while, smile still on your face. "As long as you're not enjoying it too much..."

-"Too late," Arthur joked in response before hastily grabbing a cushion and pretending to cover his crotch with it with joking heavy breaths.

-A snort left your mouth, grabbing the pillow from besides you to whack him around the back of his head, laughing as you lovingly replied "Shut up and play your chess, neeky", threading your fingers back through your head and going back to sleeping whilst playing with his hair, un-wipeable smile plastered onto your face as you did... <33

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Hang on, j found this whilst scrolling pinterest for a good ATV pic:

THAT'S FUCKING ITALIAN BACH??!?!?!? HE'S HOT?!?!?!?? Istg this new chaos crew squad is acc so leng: ATV, G Clarkey, ItalianBach, Cam, fuckin' even Alex... Bloody hell, absolute sexy demons if i say so myself (as a definite (😬) sexy demon)

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

Note

Another little request, please don't mind the spam if you don't feel inspired c: <3 "I didn't get your name" + Arthur please!

Thanks so much for sending some extra Arthur in, Shark @call-sign-shark ! I greatly appreciate it! I know I said it before, but it was fun to end this celebration off by showing some love to him…and I wouldn’t be writing for Arthur Shelby if I didn’t add some of his violent self into one of these stories. That’s where I went with this one…trust me, it makes sense…….I think. I hope you like it! Enjoy! :)

Oh and this is the last blurb of this celebration! Thank you to all who read these!! I can’t believe I’ve finally finished writing them!

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

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

What A Way to Meet Your Boss

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, series typical violence, use of derogatory name

Word Count: around 1k (I’m too lazy to find the count)

Summary: (Y/N) meets one of her bosses in a rather…unconventional way. Or maybe it’s very conventional considering the company she works for.

(Y/N) had just finished her tasks for the evening. She made sure that all of her materials were put in places where she could quickly find them tomorrow before grabbing her coat and purse. She exited the Shelby Company Limited building then, ready to get home and relax.

But of course, Birmingham had different plans for her.

“Women as pretty as you shouldn’t be walking alone at night,” a man’s voice came from the darkness of the alleyway she’d just passed. (Y/N) willed her feet to keep walking, knowing that things would turn bad if she stopped and entertained this man. Maybe he’d give up.

But it didn’t pan out that way.

Shoes then scuffed on the concrete as his quick steps were heard behind her. “I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you, bitch,” he sneered. (Y/N) quickened her pace. “Fuckin’ get back here!” His angered words were accompanied by a rough hand, and (Y/N) was left defenceless as the man effortlessly pulled her back and into his grips. Her eyes widened as the man’s forearm came into contact with her throat. “Gonna make you pay for ignoring me,” he seethed, his mouth right against her ear. “How about you make it easy for yourself?”

The man couldn’t follow through on what he was going to do because the next thing he knew, he was getting the wind knocked out of him; his arms falling slack from (Y/N)’s frame. She didn’t even stop to look and see what had happened, instead moving as fast as she could to get away from the altercation just as it sounded like someone started to deliver a barrage of punches onto her assailant.

It didn’t take (Y/N) long to notice that there wasn’t even much of a fight when she did finally turn around. The man who had his arm wrapped around her neck seconds ago was now curled into a ball on the ground as he tried to stop the madman that had come to her rescue. Even she flinched as the second man landed one more vicious punch before standing tall over the beaten man.

“Please, please…please be done,” the man pleaded, his voice and body shaking.

“You should know better than to fuck with the Peaky Blinders,” the man standing above him bellowed, his voice one that (Y/N) was familiar with, but couldn’t quite put the name to.

“I…I didn’t know that she was a Peaky woman, Mr. Shelby,” the man made an excuse, still pleading for his life. He couldn’t tell if the animal of a man standing above him was finished or not. Hell, he should have known better than to choose to hang around this part of town. Who would have known there would have been a Shelby in the area though, let alone the worst out there all?

“Peaky woman or not, you lay another fucking finger on any woman and I’ll fucking cut them off. You understand me?” the Shelby man threatened.

“Yes, yes,” the man on the ground was nodding his head profusely within seconds of hearing the other’s threats…which should really be considered promises.

“Now get the fuck outta here before I decide to do it now.” That was all the man needed to hear to scramble to his feet and hurry away from the area. It was evident in his limp that he’d been beaten pretty badly, but that didn’t stop him from running as fast as he could. The man left behind couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched him leave. When he’d finally turned a corner and was out of sight, the man turned to (Y/N). “You alright?” he asked, making his way over to her then.

“Yeah,” she answered with an exhaled breath. “You came before he could do anything. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he brushed her gratitude off, shaking his head slightly. His peaked cap had been returned to his head and was now pulled down, shielding his eyes from her, but she couldn’t miss his prominent mustache. “I could walk you home if you want,” he offered.

“I live a block away,” she answered, a polite smile present on her face.

“Safe travels,” he nodded to her, starting to turn back towards the company building the she’d just left.

“I didn’t get your name,” she quickly called after him, the words leaving her mouth before she could think better of them. She knew he was a Shelby man, but she didn’t know which Shelby man he was.

Her voice made the man stop and turn back to face her. “Arthur Shelby,” he answered simply, lifting his head enough for her to catch a glimpse his full features as they were illuminated by the streetlight.

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby,” she thanked him again, sending a grateful smile his way.

“Happy to have ya workin’ for us, love,” he said, sending a closed mouth smile her way before turning again so that he could walk back to the building she’d left a short while ago.

(Y/N) watched him enter the building before she turned and hurried the rest of her way home. She let out a sigh of relief once she was behind her locked door. What a way to meet your boss, she thought to herself, shaking her head as she headed to her bedroom. What a way indeed.

*tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

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

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httpiastri · 10 months

Text

lucky charm? – al12

arthur needs your support after the feature race in austria.

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: gender neutral!reader x arthur leclerc (i think i used the female form of a french word, but that should be the only female mention)

warning: hmmmm none!

requested: yes!

author's note: hello hello! i had bigger expectations on myself for this but i haven't been able to write a lot these last few days soooo... anyways! please forgive me if i use the wrong terms when i wrote about the dams garage and drivers room and so on, i don't really know how it all works and where people are allowed to be haha! hope u enjoy<3

f2/f3 masterlist

you feel yourself being unwillingly pulled out of your sweet sleep way too early for your liking. you could just as well just turn over and fall asleep again; the combination of the soft mattress and the fluffy hotel covers could lull anyone into a deep slumber. but just as you’re about to relax again, you hear the shuffle of socks against the carpet, followed by a thud and a quiet swear word.

you open your eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the morning light seeping in through the messily closed blinds, before they find arthur standing by the edge of the bed.

his eyes fix on you too, a guilty look spreading across his face. “did i wake you?” he asks. “i’m sorry, i dropped my phone…”

he reaches down to pick it up from the floor as you shake your head. “it’s fine,” you hum. “good morning, love.”

“good morning, ma chéri.” he flashes you a smile as he scoots over to you, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you shut your eyes again. “why are you up so early?” you ask. “didn’t we say breakfast at seven?”

“it is seven,” arthur chuckles, but just as you’re about to sit up and scold him for not waking you up in time, he speaks again. “don’t get up, i’ve already had breakfast. you can continue sleeping.”

you frown with your eyes still closed. “what’s that supposed to mean? why-”

“i’ve been called in for an extra team meeting. they want me to meet them there in 30 minutes.”

your eyes open again, looking at your lover now sitting right by you on the bed. he’s got a hint of sadness in his eyes, and he feels another sting of guilt pass through his body.

he still looks as handsome as ever, though, and you can’t help but to let your hand cup his cheek. “when did you get up? you must be so tired.”

he shakes his head, a slight smile adorning his features; half due to the concern in your voice, half due to the love he can feel even in your touch. “we went to bed so early, i’ll be fine. you can still get another hour or so in, though.”

you pout. “i can’t sleep without you.”

arthur’s pretty laugh meets your ears. “you had no problem falling asleep while i was brushing my teeth last night, amour.” he takes your hand from his face, intertwining his fingers with yours. “but if you really don’t want to sleep any more, you could get some breakfast and then watch me get ready in the garage.”

you consider the options for a moment. “maybe i will,” you say, squeezing his hand once.

he takes your hand up to his mouth, placing a few sweet kisses to your knuckles. "my lucky charm." even more kisses. "i do unfortunately really need to go now. but i'll see you on the track?"

you nod, looking up into his eyes. "good luck, darling."

your boyfriend leans down towards you to meet your lips with his. both of you are still sleepy and it's evident in the kiss because it's lazy and slow. yet, it's filled with so so much love. when you feel him starting to pull away, you place a hand by the back of his neck to keep him close. he laughs against your skin before he manages to leave your lips – his neck muscles are apparently stronger than your hands.

"i'll see you soon again, okay?"

"mkay."

and after one last kiss, he's gone through the door, leaving you all alone in the big bed.

arthur was, as usual, quite busy right before the race.

that meant that he didn't have a lot of time to spend with you, but by now you'd learned to enjoy spending time in the dams garage, despite how different it felt to the prema garages you visited last year. you followed arthur on the tv as much as you could during the race, while also having time to chat a little with the crew every now and then.

you found it funny how it seemed like arthur and his friend ollie bearman found each other even on the track, the two of them following their former teammate through the laps and even into the pit stops.

arthur came out on the track just before ollie, which made many of the dams workers cheer. but just a short while after they left the pits, it happened. one of the few things that was not allowed to happen.

in one of the turns, not even one minute later, one of his tires flew off the car.

arthur couldn't have done anything to stop it or make the situation better. it was in no way his fault, and yet, it had all of the worst consequences for him.

thankfully, there was no crash and the tire didn't hit another driver, so it wasn't really a dangerous incident. but when arthur gets up out of the car and you can tell he's uninjured, you still let out a thankful breath you didn't know you were holding. you know this is awful, as it is any time he's forced to retire out of a race, but at least he isn't physically hurt, which was the most important to you.

a couple of minutes later, arthur arrives back in the garage, where he receives a bunch of pats on the backs and compassionate looks from team members. you are still sat on a chair a bit further into the garage, wanting to give him some space instead of approaching him, but you watch his every move carefully. his dark eyes stay aimed on the floor and he doesn't give out much more than small nods to the people trying to talk to him. he's holding his helmet in one hand, his balaclava still on and helping cover what you assumed was a regretful look.

you were so sure he wouldn't notice you, but his eyes land on you just as his hand reaches for the door to his driver's room. you kind of expect him to give you some kind of reaction. a smile, a nod, anything. but just like to everyone else, he looks away.

as he's gone through the door, you feel some kind of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. you know it's not personal, but it still pains a little to think about him treating you just like everyone else.

you wait until the race is over and the staff is busy celebrating the other dams driver's podium before making your way towards the door. after knocking on it a few times, you can hear his voice from the inside, muttering something about leaving him alone.

"arthur, can i come in?" you ask, ignoring his request.

when he hears that it's your voice seeping through the cracks of the door, he's instantly on his feet, making his way to you.

when he opens the door, you're met by an exhausted face. the balaclava is off now, lines on his face still showing where the seams had been pressing for the long race. he steps aside to let you into the room and then closes the door behind you. he sits down on the couch and you take a seat right next to him, eyes never leaving his sad ones. he's looking everywhere but at you, though, feeling way too sensitive to take in the way that you were looking at him. with so much comfort, support, love.

"i'm really sorry," you say, voice low. "that sucked."

he nods, eyes moving to look down at his feet as he leans his elbows onto his knees. "shit happens."

you stop for a moment but then you decide to be brave, putting a hand on his shoulder. when he doesn't shrug it off, you begin stroking over his white fireproof shirt with your thumb, hoping to comfort him even the slightest.

"i just... felt like the pace was good, you know?" you nod, even though he isn't looking. "i was ahead of ollie, and he ended up in p5..." your hand moves to the back of his neck, softly rubbing up and down his skin. "i don't know, i just feel like i could've scored some points too."

"yeah, definitely," you hum at him. "you did really well, love."

one of his hands comes up to wipe over his face, before he finally turns to look at you. "thank you." a slight smile takes over your lips. "and thank you for being here."

"of course. anything for you, mon amour."

arthur leans towards you, molding his lips against yours. the kiss is a lot different than how he kissed you earlier this morning; it's soothing, tender, gentle. yet, it's filled with just as much love.

"sorry i wasn't your lucky charm like you said i am," you tell him once you pull away, faces still close enough to feel his breath on your lips.

his mouth curls into a smile before he kisses you again. "don't worry," he moves to give you a couple of pecks along your jawline. "i'll buy a new charm since having you around doesn't work."

you gasp, slapping his chest as a big, teasing grin lightens up his face. "hey!"

and when his wholehearted laughter fills the room, you smile, despite his insult just moments earlier. you smile because you know it's all going to be fine; you smile because after his next race, he will be smiling too.

#f1 #arthur leclerc #fluff #comfort #x reader #x yn #x y/n #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #fic #fanfic #blurb #drabble #imagine #al12 #x you #headcanons #boyfriend #romance #f2

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 4 months

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Living with Arthur Headcanons

Warnings: Mildly suggestive, references to PTSD, period-typical toxic masculinity. Angst and Fluff ahead.

Relationship Hcs

Arthur is the sort of man that wants to appear to the world as strong and confident, because that benefits him a lot in his line of work. The men that answer to him fear him. As they should. Arthur Shelby is not a man to be messed with or teased without great caution. However, Arthur is simultaneously very sensitive and gentle. He reminisces about the past and longs for a kind future for himself. Arthur is also a man with wounds and scars he can’t quite close. So, it goes without saying that loving Arthur means to love two men at once.

The Arthur who comes home to you on “a bad day,” is a man who melts in your arms. He comes through your door some days and just holds you. He can worry you a lot on days like those. Where he cries and can’t stop. Arthur just needs you so badly and he despises how useless it leaves him. All you can do is undress him and draw a bath for him. Depending on his state, you’ll join him and help him wash before helping him off to bed.

He never means to rely on you like this. Arthur hates how his mind and it's jagged edges dig into you. You have shared many talks at night about "where his head is at." Tommy often comes up. And it is often Tommy that causes fights between you two. Arthur wants to be a family man and move to the country, but he won't. Not so long as Tommy needs him. And Tommy always needs him. But he put him in positions where he could be sent to prison for life, or where Arthur could be killed. The worst fights end with Arthur storming out of the house and coming back to you with bloody knuckles and a night where, "Nothing much," happened.

When you fight, Arthur is the one who apologizes first. Usually with flowers or a box of sweets. He likes to explain the entire process he went through to get the peace offering to buy himself time before saying, "I was wrong for that, yeah," or "I don't always do right, but I want to. I do."

Arthur wants to keep you clean from all the things he does for the family. He doesn't know what he would do if you were hurt.

Domestic Hcs

Arthur is completely helpless in the kitchen. He was totally content buying a meal or eating butter on toast. Coming home to you cooking was a welcome surprise. His own mother didn’t try to cook. Even if the meal you make is simple, or even burnt, Arthur will praise it like it’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever made ever. If you were to have guests over and they insulted you, Arthur would physically remove them from the house unless they were family.

You knew that Arthur’s trust for you was absolute when he asked you to help him shave. The first time you put the straight razor to his throat, you were terribly nervous. His eyes were closed, and his body relaxed. You carried on with his shave and from then on he only went to you for that task. It became a part of your routine, and a way to reinforce his trust in you.

There are things that happen in your home that Arthur will never confess to. His pride won’t let him. One of these things is that he paints your nails for you. Neither of you can recall who suggested it. Arthur’s hands are so steady and he gets to focused, he paints your nails far better than you can. In a way, you think it might be his way of repaying you for his clean shaves.

Arthur likes to watch you get dressed in the mornings, which isn’t always sexual for him… but it usually is. A part of his attraction comes from knowing that only he gets to see you this way. No makeup, messy hair, groaning and clumsy as you try to get ready for the day. There’s something hypnotizing about watching you do your morning routine. How you stretch from the bed and bring your nightgown over your head. The way your hair tumbles over your shoulders, the messiness of it. He would love to record the way you say, “G’morning love,” with that rasp to your voice that sleep gives it. It is a common thing with Arthur to pull you back to bed when you say that.

He likes to make moments at home last. They make him feel at peace. They make him feel clean. Though he sometimes worries that all he's done is smear the blood from his hands to your pure soul.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders x reader #arthur shelby #Arthur Shelby x reader #arthur shelby imagine

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live-laugh-lenney · 2 months

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Love love the arthur lingerie fic. What about george version

i've been waiting for this to come in simply so i could write something smutty for george... CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT.

george is a sucker for lingerie.

granted; he'd always tell her that she could wear a stained, faded and ratty-looking t-shirt, with holes in the armpits, and he would still find her to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

in the beginning few months of seeing one another, finding out what each others turn ons were, their love-making started off sweet and soft and they would always plan ahead and it would happen in the most sensual way... like it was something written in a romance novel.

yn would always present herself nicely. she would dress nice, she would spray her perfume on her neck, she made sure she had matching underwear on (that didn't have holes in or elastic hanging loose from the waistband). he always made sure he had a clean room with clean bedsheets on his bed, a candle burning to give the room a relaxing feel and a lovely smell and that everything was within arms distance so he didn't have to leave the bed.

but now?

a year and a half into their relationship, having sex was never made into a big deal. not much anymore. the nights they spent together were spent being lazy on the sofa in her flat (because he was always surrounded by the two arthurs and chris and neither of them could have privacy with them around), eating meals from their take-out, binge-watching a television show that they were in the middle of watching.

their 'motto' being if it happens then it happens.

but every now and then, to keep their love and their romance alive, they would have a night dedicated to them. birthdays were always guaranteed, anniversaries always ended up with them in bed, but on the nights when they just wanted to feel close to one another, she would always surprise him by wearing a new set of lingerie...

she's fresh from the shower.

having given herself an 'everything shower' - she washed her hair, she deeply scrubbed her face, she shaved her legs and exfoliated her skin so she was soft to the touch, she got rid of every inch of body hair she could find and managed to do so without nicking any of her skin - she changed into the new set of lingerie once she was completely dried off, letting the lace perfectly cup her breasts and sitting low on her pubic bone, knowing that she had an eager george waiting for her on the other side of the door.

she gave him the task of making the room feel ready and that is just what he did; he lit their wax-burners and put in a relaxing scent so it emitted smells so relaxing and soft, the flickering of the flames being enough light to fill the room, curtains drawn shut and he'd even gone as far as scattering rose petals upon the bed to show the romantic side to him.

she opens the door, the bathroom light flooding into the room for just a moment, sliding her finger down the switch and turning off the light and closing the door behind her, exposed to his wandering eyes and she can already feel her cheeks heating up.

"i can feel you staring."

"can you blame me?" he questions her, looking from his phone screen and making eye contact with her as she stood in the middle of the room, locking the gadget in his hand and placing it down on the table by his bedside, "you're so gorgeous."

she takes in his appearance; stretched out down the bed with tousled hair that he hadn't really dealt much with that day, a fringe almost forming from how he hadn't styled his hair like normal, his facial hair looking a lot more desirable to her than normal, wearing nothing but a deep teal t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that peeked out from the hem of his tee, no socks on his feet (because he'd worn her slippers all day and refused to take them off), his ankles crossed at the end of the bed.

he takes in her appearance; a lilac-coloured, made from lace, lingerie set on her figure with her hair still damp but not completely sodden with water, painting her skin with droplets of water that glistened in the light of the candles flickering. and she smelt delicious and she looked fresh, a nervous smile on her lips as she looked at him.

"is this all for me?"

he smirks at his own question because he already knows the answer; her coming out in matching underwear was almost a given when they chose to switch off from the outside world and spend all evening in bed.

"you know it's for you, idiot."

"don't speak to me like that, baby."

she rolls her eyes playfully and he pushes himself up on the bed, the pillow squishing between his back and the headboard of the bed behind him, duvet scrunching up with his movements and she takes that as her moment to walk towards him. and he watches every step she takes towards him, every sway of her hips, and he couldn't take his eyes away from the way the swell of her breasts bounced every so slightly with the motion.

instead of clambering onto her side, she walks to his side. swinging her leg up and over his body and bringing herself to straddle him at his waist, legs either side of him.

"well, i like where this is going."

his hands cup her hips, the pads of his thumbs brushing over the naked skin of her hips and he's eager to dip his fingers into the band of her knickers and pull them away, revealing the one thing he was desperately eager to get a feel of. his eyes trailing from her eyes to her exposed collarbones and down the valley of her breasts which he just wanted to free from the constraint of her bra.

he could feel himself hardening beneath her, and she could feel his stiffening muscle against her thigh, forming an ache in her core for him that she really wanted to suffice. she couldn't let the night start so quickly and deep down, they both wanted to drag it out for longer than normal. they wanted to savour every passing second. drinking it in and feeling the emotions together.

"you really are so beautiful," he whispers softly, "i'm one lucky son of a bitch."

her fingers started playing with them hem of his t-shirt, moving it up ever so slightly to show a little bit of the skin of his stomach, boxers stretching across the growing hard-on that was seemingly bursting to be freed. and she wanted to. her fingers were there. but teasing him was something she loved to do.

"i think i'm the lucky one," she responds softly and he scoffs and his head shakes from side to side, "i am, george. i am. i'm just a nobody compared to you."

"nope," he shakes his head, "you're everything to me."

"oh, shut up," she retorts and pushes at his chest with her hands, soft enough to not hurt him, and he smiles warmly, "i am. you could have anyone and yet you chose me."

his hands wrap around her wrists and he brings them up to his neck, letting her bear her weight on his shoulders, a gentle groan escaping his lips as she shuffles on his crotch and brushes her warming core against his cock, bottom lip lodging between his teeth.

"i'm so in love with you."

"i love you," he smiles.

and yn's the one that closes the gap between the two of them. her lips melding together beautifully with him and her hands find his hair, fingers twisting between the strands at the nape of his neck, his hands dancing up her back. fingertips tickling her skin with the feathery touches he gives her bare skin, bringing her closer to him, chests flush together. their breathing was erratic, her hips moving slow motions, his fingers toying with the hooks of her bra in an eager attempt to tell her what she wanted without breaking the kiss.

and she lets him.

arching her back as a way of tell him to go for it and he doesn't need anymore than that to let both of his hands work on removing the bra from her chest, breaking the kiss for just a moment to pull it away from her, sliding it down her arms and throwing it aimlessly into the bedroom and hope it hit the floor instead of knocking anything from its place. chests rising and falling rapidly.

"i need you."

it's almost inaudible as it rolls off of her tongue. and he nods quickly, her fingers curling into the waistband of his boxers and she pulls them down just enough to free the boner that was leaking pre-cum and was twitching under her touch. his fingers working to slide down her knickers, without trying to tear the fabric or ruin them in his haste to feel her wrapped around him, and she adjusts herself on top of him so she can pull them down and chuck them towards the end of the bed.

as she throws them to the floor, his shirt comes off, revealing himself to her and she instantly feels her hands gravitate towards his bare shoulders, dragging her fingers down the skin of chest, with one hand continuing down his stomach until it wraps around his length, giving him a gentle few pumps and squeezes.

"so needy," she grins, "so so needy. for me?"

profanities rolling off of his tongue.

"always for you," he grunts out lowly, "see what you do to me?"

he can't stop himself from pushing his hips towards hers, feeling her legs tense as she feels his length slide between her folds, coming to a halt to allow her to adjust before his hips start the gentle thrusts he was desperate to make happen, her head rolling back as she let the deep and intense pleasure take over her body.

"you feel so good," he whispers and he lets her take over, grinding on his cock and twitching inside her every time she let out a whimper, the tip of his length reaching places he knew drove her crazy, her nails digging into his skin and leaving crescent indents behind, his arms wrapping around her waist and bringing her closer to his body, "so bloody good."

and he hides his face in her neck.

allowing her control gave him the opportunity to focus on giving her pleasure elsewhere on her body and his favourite place was her neck. leaving hickey after hickey behind down the stretch of skin below her ears and above her shoulders, nibbling and licking the skin as she lets him devour her.

"m'so close, baby," she hums and he brings his face from her neck, cheeks flush and his eyes hooded, lips swollen from being attached to her skin, and he can feel the burn in his belly that screamed how close he was to spurting out his release, "m'gonna-"

"wait for me," he begs, "wait for me, cum with me."

and she can feel her toes curling, her knees beginning to shake, her legs tensing. she quickens her pace, hearing his breathing getting caught in his throat, and his hands grip onto her hips to guide her at a pace that was getting him closer and closer, their eyes barely leaving each others. watery, hooded but lust-filled and darkening.

"m'gonna," he chokes off his sentence and lets his head drop to her chest, eyes clenching shut as he let his release fill her up, her own orgasm following behind him, squeezing him between the walls of her core, rhythm falling sloppy as she drops her head to his. her cheek resting upon the soft tufts of his hair. "fuck."

the room is filled with their panting, heavy breathing, and it smells like sex and the scent of candles melting, and they're seeing stars as they come down from their highs and allow themselves to fully regain their visions back to reality.

"i know what to buy you for christmas now."

"what?"

he grins lopsidedly up at her and she cups his face in her hands, thumbs catching the sweat coating his skin, soft and gentle.

"more lingerie," he says, "could go all night with you."

"give me half hour," she giggles softly, pressing a kiss to his lips and removing herself from his body, falling to the bed beside him, "we'll go for round two then."

thank you for reading if you managed to get this far! very thankful if you managed to make it to the end. george has such a special little place in my heart; i think it's split into four. my boyfriend has one, atv has the second, george has the third, arthur hill and chris can share the fourth... keep sending in your prompts/requests for arthur (and george!) and i'll slowly work my way through them during my days off from work and when i need a break from the locked in series. xx

#george clarkey #george clarke #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey smut #george clarke imagines #george clarke headcannons #george clarke fics #george clarke smut #chaos crew fics #chaos crew imagines #chaos crew headcannons #george clarkey x reader imagines #george clarke x reader imagines #george clarkey x female reader smut #george clarke x female reader smut

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