#Dutch deserves some appreciation

[capisback]

I know it’s haha funny to laugh at dutch and call it discount english or what-have-you, but I stopped finding it funny a long, long time ago. There’s so much active distaste for a language that has every right to exist and be found beautiful, but it’s hated by people who don’t speak it and native speakers who do. Why would you call any language lesser than? Any language better than another? There’s so much beauty to be found in each language, so many different ways of life and seeing the world, so many different words and sayings and ways to love that you can’t find in another. Dutch is no different, and it deserves to be appreciated, not driven into the ground and disregarded as a worn piece of clothing that’s served its purpose

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Unrequited (Arthur Morganxf! Reader) - RDR2

A/N: Whoever decided that there could be a button where Arthur Morgan says "good girl" how ever many times you want, I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

Synopsis: Arthur loved Mary, didn't he? So, why was it he was spouting all this nonesense about loving you?

Warning/ Tags: Angst. But like SO MUCH FLUFF. Allusions to Sex. Mentions of violence. Coarse language. Kissing. Hurt/ Comfort. Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 6.1K

Masterlist

Even now, Arthur Morgan was a lovesick fool for Mary Linton.

You shouldn’t have been surprised; you weren’t really. Arthur doesn’t talk about her much anymore, but you’d known him long enough to see he’d never really let that part of himself go. The part of him that loves. That dreams of something better for himself even if he thinks he’s the big, bad, scary man that he is.

And maybe in some aspect, he is that man.

Threatening, bartering, killing. Sometimes you look into his eyes and see nothing but a hard, desolate exterior that wouldn’t think twice about shooting anybody up so long as Dutch told him to do it. But the reality Arthur Morgan doesn’t want to accept is that there’s goodness hiding within the moulding of a gunslinger enforcer.

You can glimpse that goodness when he helps a woman on the road or gives medicine to a man dying from snake poison, and you can especially see it when he’s hauling his ass on his horse to help Mary even when he’s being pulled left and right to finish errands for the camp.

So no, you shouldn’t have been surprised that Arthur would ride out the earliest he could to help his past lover.

But hell, why did it have to hurt you every damn time?

He returns to camp just after the sun rises and light starts to colour the world around you. The air is still crisp, and the heat of the sun is non-existent on your skin.  You’re brushing your horse’s mane when you hear the familiar holler of his voice towards Bill. You don’t look towards him as his horse trots towards the hitching post.

As he dismounts, he greets you, a little pep in the tone of his voice.

It irritates you immediately.

“Mornin’.”

You grit your teeth and put on the brightest smile you can muster. “Mornin’!”

He takes a moment. His eyebrows crease. “Something matter?”

“Uh-?”

“Nothing it’s just-“ he breaks to think about the right words to say. “You don’t look- Never mind.”

This only encourages you to grow your façade stronger. “So,” you start “what’d Mary need this time?” It comes off a little pettier than you intended it to be. He doesn’t deserve that, hell, Mary didn’t deserve your bitterness either, fine woman she was.

That little fact seemed inconsequential however every time he uttered her name and the familiar feeling of jealousy pricked, downright stabbed itself in your gut.

He picks up on your tone, not appreciating it one bit. The displeasure that carves into his expression almost makes you wince and the fake smile that’s plastered on your face twitches the slightest bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You take the coward’s way out, you always do.

You break eye contact and continue to brush away the embarrasment. You’re rewarded by a loving whinny and it almost distracts you from the ice-cold awkwardness you’ve built around this conversation. “Nothin’, just asking.”

Whether he believes your fib or doesn’t, he doesn’t let it show. But him moving on has you thanking God regardless. He takes out a brush, starting to work on his own mare’s mane. “Good girl.” He whispers. Warmth creeps up your neck as your ears tingle towards the baritone timber of his voice. It makes you lose all self-respect for yourself. He sneaks a look at you for the tiniest bit of time before continuing your conversation. “Her brother was involved in some weird religious group.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep,” he sighs “buncha turtle lovers.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you even though you don’t understand it. When you glance towards Arthur’s direction, the indifference has faded away from his features and all that’s left is a sarcastic smirk in its place. All frost has melted away and all too quickly you’re back to the ease that usually came with your dynamic.

You can’t help but throw a snide joke his way. “Gosh, if you’re still this involved in their family drama, you should just make it official and propose again.”

The idea haunts you, of course, it does. But you weren’t going to let Arthur know that. The more you joke, the more it becomes real, the more your true feelings become buried underneath a pile of age-old lies and supportive nonsense. Because at the end of the day, if it would make Arthur happy, you’d keep biting your lip and pushing him towards that happiness. 

Love worked funny like that.

His smirk falls and you’re worried you pushed it a tad bit too far. “I tried once and I don’t know if it’ll ever happen.” He turns almost sombre, like thinking back on old memories that were equal parts sweet and bitter and this bothers you in a different way.

“I sincerely think if you were to propose to her right now, she’d say yes with no questions asked.” You hope he sees the genuineness in your intentions.

He merely gives you a scoff, slightly shaking his head. “Yeah well,” he trails off. “It’d never work out now.”

You decide not to continue pushing. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to dig deeper into the situation and even in your sorry narrow-minded state, you could understand and respect keeping your mouth shut when you needed to. You lick your lips and stick another sickly-sweet smile to your face. “Well, you continue on moping, but I can’t say I’ll be sticking around to see you grumbling around.”

That gets him to snort. “And where will the rough and tough princess be today? Helping a rabbit off the road? Wait-“ he pauses for dramatic effect “Talking to the birds and singing em’ a song?” He makes himself chortle quietly at the idea.

“I have a date.”

That gets him to stop cold turkey. He’s only met with a smug appearance on your end. “You?”

You fake great offence and snap at him. “Hey! Even I can seduce someone if I try!”

“No, I know- I” He appears shaken up about your revelation and for a moment, the tiniest fraction of a second, you could almost see the tensing of his jaw. “With who?”

It’s your turn to leer at him. “Why’s it matter?”

“It doesn’t I-“ he stutters “I just-“

You raise an eyebrow. “Well if you must know, he works at the hardware store.” You say as you recall the day you met the gentleman. “I helped him carry out some tasks and he gave me a daffodil in exchange, of all things.” You pointed at the flower currently tucked in the band of your hat. “Cutest thing.”

“Is that right?” He gruffed out.

“Mhm, so I’m gonna escort him and his granddaughter to a birthday party out in Strawberry.” You giggle. “He said he needed a ‘fighter’ with him because of his ‘old bones’ and ‘lumbago’” You roll your eyes. “Sounds like Uncle.”

This seems to take Arthur by surprise. The dark clouds in his eyes clear out and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Wha-?”

You bite your lip to keep your internal laughter from spilling. “Listen, I offered.” You explain. “He’s been giving me discounts at the store and that girl is just the sweetest thing and well-“ you shrug, “I couldn’t say no like the goddamn softie I am.”

The blades in his eyes dull at the statement. The mysterious scrunch of his shoulders from earlier disappears. He steps away from his horse and walks around his mare to shorten the gap between the two of you. It reminds you that he’s tall, much bigger than you are. “That bleedin’ heart of yours is gonna get you killed one day.”

He mutters his words lightly and yet, there’s some odd sadness you don’t understand attached to it. He puckers his lips as if he wants to say more on the matter yet can’t.

You put on your best Arthur impression, puffing up your chest and scrunching your face. “Well, somehow this don’t suit me, now does it?”

He wouldn’t even have to touch you.

At that, Arthur chuckles deeply. “Nah, you obviously ain’t tall enough to be me, shortcake.” He jabs you playfully at the shoulder and in response, you over-exaggerate the motion of being pushed back.

Though, if he really wanted to, Arthur could have you on your back in less than a second.

Before you can go further down that rabbit hole of thoughts, you carry on with the train of humour. “Besides, heard from Jerry there’ll be plenty of cute fellas around to keep me entertained.”

The clouds start to roll back in his demeanour, dare you say with a touch of thunder this time. “You gonna be looking at other men?” The lightness in his voice is gone, only replaced with the venom from before.

You’re befuddled at the quick-changing atmosphere, but don’t go back on what you said. “All I’ve got to look at are you folks all day,” you quip “A girl needs a change of scenery every once in a while.”

He crosses his arms, clearly not amused. “We not pretty enough for you?”

“Well, you are certainly, but I don’t know about Pearson.”

You purse your lips immediately and silently curse yourself at the admission. That same old shit-eating grin makes a comeback. “Is that right?”

You push his arm back, but unlike him, you hardly get the man to move more than half an inch. “Oh shut it.” You quickly un-hitch your horse and mount her. All you want to do is wipe his lips so it turns back into his usual frown, but you’re afraid you’d just embarrass yourself further. “I won’t be back for a while.” You pull your horse away and pat her on the side. “Didn’t know children’s birthday parties could take so damn long.”

“How long will you be gone for?” He mumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

“However long it takes for a fella to get me off.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. The sun highlights the tips of his ears go red. “Wha- What?” He strained out like he wasn’t quite sure of what he just heard.

A real, true laugh comes out of you then as you spur your horse into action, cantering away from camp. You don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say. His flushed look is enough of a prize to take with you.

You replay it all the way to Strawberry.

------------------

It was well past sundown when you return. Truthfully, you don’t even know what time it is, all you knew was that you were gone long enough that laying down on your cot would be much appreciated by your aching muscles. There’s a light breeze and you take your hat off, shaking out your hair.

The party was a success. Jerry and his granddaughter got to and from Strawberry safely, and really, that was all you could wish for when you were being hunted constantly because of the bounty on your head. You knew you offered, hell you were pretty self-approving when you did. But even then, you made sure to ask if Jerry really wanted a gunslinger as an escort, to which he replied, “Oh, shove it.”

Wonderful man.

The rest of the camp, well those that were here anyways, aside from Bill who was back on guard duty, are already fast asleep. The crackle of the fire is the only sound filling your ears other than your own footsteps.

There’s a small oil lamp turned on in the corner of your vision, brightening the blue hue and you instantly know the only bastard who would be up at this hour.

He’s drawing again. His brows are focused in that way you loved so much and he only looks up from his journal once you amble closer towards him. You almost hate that you’ve disrupted him. You could watch him draw for hours and hardly get bored.

He closes the book and looks up at you. You nod towards his hands. “You’ll have to show me what you’re working on at some point, Picasso.”

Arthur lets a huff through his nose. “Not gonna happen.” He motions you to sit beside him and you take him up on his offer. You catch a whiff of his scent, something like tobacco mixed with old leather. It may have been slightly repulsive to anyone else, but this was Arthur, and all it made you feel was safe. “You was gone a long time.” He points out, a bitter tinge to his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You tilt your head at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “You just went off and didn’t come back until now.” The bitter tinge morphs into something like annoyance. “I was worried.” He mumbles low.

“Oh, I was fine.” You bump your shoulder against his, but it again, doesn’t make him sway. “Besides, I had a fella with me.”

His hand, the one closest to you, balls up at his side. He’s always been hard to read, but he clearly isn't happy at your revelation. You had half a mind in this late hour to stew in that fact. “Did you now?”

“Sure, one of them single fathers.” You let a small laugh escape you and shake your head, kicking the dirt with your worn-out boots. “Don’t worry, I’d never steal one from a married woman.”

“Was he…cute?” He mutters.

“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘cute’ come out of Arthur Morgan’s mouth.” You catch a glimpse towards him and again note the same pink twinge on his ears, probably embarrassed at being called out on something so stupid.

You finally start to feel that familiar flutter in your stomach hidden behind all that supportive “do what makes you happy nonsense”.

No, you couldn’t have that.

So, you bury it down.

It just became easier that way after all these years.

“That ain’t the damn point.” He continues to grumble. “Was he?”

You ponder the question for a short while. “I mean, he was alright in the looks department, not cute-“

He cuts you off quickly. “Just alright?” He scoffs lightly.

You remember the aforementioned single father in question. His looks are the last thing on your mind. He was alright, not cute, not ugly. Sure, you wouldn’t want to sleep with the man, but-

“He was damn good with his kid, and I thought I’d like to get to know someone like that more.” You reveal through a whisper.

This causes Arthur to frown, but his expression softens. Some of that constant bitterness fades away. “You- “he cuts off and thickly swallows. “You weren’t doing anything strange were you?”

You can feel a prickle of heat in your face at the question. “I mean, we talked sure, but if anything, I just maybe wanted to indulge in a fantasy.” You shrug.

He snaps his gaze back towards you. “A fantasy?”

“What it’d be like-“

God, why was it so hard to say?  “Being normal, having a family.”

The silence that follows is thick and you immediately scold yourself for ruining a perfectly airy conversation just like this morning. You regret it, you do, but you can’t deny how nice it is to finally get that dream off your chest. It wasn’t original, what woman at camp, save Mrs. Adler, didn’t want that stability?

The feeling of riding was freeing. It gave you the grace of flying during a time when you were being held down and that will never change. But nowadays, you find that instead of being held down, you want to be held close. To be called important, matter to someone, so that when you felt lost soaring, you’d always have a beacon home.

“Damn it, you can’t be sayin’ things like that.” He forces out a murmur, a shred of his usual gruff tone.

“You ever think about that?” You tread lightly. “Having kids? Building a farm out somewhere and just-“ a deep sigh escapes you. “living and not surviving?”

It takes him a while to answer your question.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” The vulnerability colors his voice and it starts to trip you over the edge.

You nod, pursing your lips. “With Mary?” You meekly ask, the crickets chirping making the exchange more awkward. You almost cringe at the silence of it all.

He tenses at her name and it seems like you get your answer.

“With Mary? I mean-“ He tries to dissuade you with absolutely no conviction in his voice. He pauses and curses under his breath. Arthur shakes his head, closing his eyes a moment. “Y’know, it ain’t always about Mary.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Arthur, it’s always been about Mary.” Sighing deeply, you bite your cheek at the acidic truth. “Even when you met Eliza, it was still about Mary.”

He’s taken aback by your statement and a subtle look of frustration overcomes his features. “No, it hasn’t.”

You want to say more, but your sardonic nature halts at his stoic reply. It’s like your heart stops, a coldness and a shrill wake your senses from the inside out. “What?” Your brain halts, all thought ceasing to exist except to process his next response. He tries to avoid eye contact, but you seek his gaze as you tilt your head sideways. “Arthur, what do you mean?” You repeat more sternly, begging to get a straight answer.

He throws you a stick of dynamite.

The smoke clears and all that’s left is the destruction that caters right in the center of your chest.

“What about you?” His voice is hoarse like this is the most difficult thing he’s ever had to squeeze out of his mouth. “What about when it became you?”

Ka-boom.

There’s no longer just a flutter in your stomach, there’s a whole damn circus, and it decides to release the butterflies you worked so hard to keep from their magical chest of caution.

You shake your head and your body goes rigid. You move away from him and stand abruptly as you place your hands on your hips. He’s quick to follow you on your feet.  A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat before you can stop yourself. “Arthur-“

“No, let me finish.” He steps in front of you and holds your shoulders square, turning your body towards him. Even in your bubbling anger, you hate the way your skin immediately melts under his touch. His eyes and actions are pleading for you to stay, so you let him speak, biting your tongue to keep yourself from interrupting. He stumbles over his words. “It’s been you for a long damn time.” He admits. “But I was, I don’t know-“You notice the light sheen of sweat gracing his forehead. “I was scared to say something.”

“If this is some dumb joke-“

“No!” He immediately denies like he’s appalled you would even think of it in that way. 

“Well,” you sneer “I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing that.” You remove his hands from your shoulders stiffly and start to trudge away back to your horse.

In the years you’d known him, Arthur had been a force, even more so when he was younger and reckless. He was stubborn as a mule and despite keeping the peace for the most part, there was a strut in his step when he walked because he knew he had the power to change that fact whenever he wanted and get away scotch-free. Arthur was arrogant in that way, always threatening people with a smirk or an edge to his voice.

But this is the first time you see him flinch and it happens to be at your curt words.

A lump catches in your throat, but you’re too annoyed to care, all but continuing the short distance back to the hitching posts. Arthur is hot on your tracks, not letting up one bit. Maybe Bill was overhearing, maybe one of the girls stirred awake. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to get the hell away from here.

His catches up to you in no time, his strides much longer than yours. He steps in front of your path and when you make a move to step aside, he mirrors your actions. You click your tongue, glowering at him from beneath your lashes. “Look,” he starts “now I know you may not like me, but I-“

That gets your anger rising to incomparable heights. “Not like you?!” You practically shout out. Looking around, you remember where you are and it’s the only reason your voice lowers. “Arthur, I’ve liked you since the day I met you!”

His eyebrows pull together and his nose crinkles. Arthur’s face morphs into something like agitation from its previous confusion. “So, why all this attitude?”

You’re dejected. “Why all this attitude?” You softly hiss. “Why all this attitude when I’ve loved you for years and all I’ve heard about is Mary?”

Arthur winces. He steps back from you, recoiling like he’s just been shot by a sniper rifle.

Good, you think. He should feel like a right asshole.

“’Why all this attitude’ he says!” You giggle manically at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Where do I even start?” You begin to rant, hands back on your hips to give you some sort of anchor from sinking towards the ground.  “I don’t know Arthur, maybe it’s because while I’ve been here stewing in self-pity, you were always out seeing her.  Maybe, it’s because every time you were young, drunk, and broken, you’d come back whispering her name, mistaking her for me, and I was the one helping you pick up the pieces.”

Your heart was racing a million yards a minute, but you couldn’t stop now. All the hurt and sorry baggage poured out like molten lava, burning with years of intensity. “Or maybe-“ you point an index finger at him and snap sarcastically as if you’ve just discovered a newfound truth “Maybe, it was because I worked so damn hard to tell myself I wasn’t in love with you and you just-“ your voice breaks.

Arthur doesn’t interrupt you at any part of your monologuing. Just like usual, you can hardly decipher his emotions except notice the colour draining from his face.

“So, I’m sorry that I don’t believe you when you say It’s been me.” You continue. “You’ve given me no reason to believe otherwise.”

You sidestep him, not taking a single look back in fear of him seeing the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You unhitch your horse, giving her a slight pat before mounting her again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t see or speak to Arthur for a few days after your argument.

You don’t have much energy to talk to anyone really.

So, you somehow end up back at a familiar field surrounded by evergreen trees and flowers. The crystalline water of the hot springs gleams in your eyes and a chill wind sends shivers up your spine.

You set up camp and stay a while. The serenity of the woods is welcomed. You don’t consider yourself the best hunter, but fishing didn’t require the same amount of dexterity. It's quiet, peaceful even. All you hear is the chirp of the birds and the steady flow of water.

It gives you time to cool off, reflect on everything that’s happened.

The more time you spend out here, the more hesitant you are to leave. It's a nice reprieve from the perils of civilization and you find yourself slipping away, trying to grasp a sense of comfort that's unimaginable for you most days.

Tends to happen when you're an outlaw, you suppose.

But one day, as you’re laying under the shade of a tree, feeling the blades of soft grass beneath you, you hear heavy footsteps starting to approach.

There's no need to bother even acting surprised.

Arthur takes a seat beside you with a deep sigh. He leans back, using his hands to support him.

The both of you are silent for a while, not one peep out of your mouths. You expect it to be uncomfortable but having him by your side brings an ease you haven’t felt in days. Arthur continues to stare up at the sun starting to descend in the horizon and you follow suit, eyes trained to the sky above.

“When I met you, I thought you were nothing more than a naïve, innocent little thing.” He starts, baritone drawl catching you off guard. You don’t realize how much you’d missed hearing it until now. “You were this small girl I needed to protect. “

 You glance towards him and notice the small smile now gracing his lips, his eyes glossed over like remembering memories from so very long ago. “You could barely ride a horse, hell, you could barely mount one.”

The genuine warmth in his voice continues to chip away any frustrations left within you as you recall those days like snapshots in your mind.

“Every day, it was something new with you.” He laughs out, making your heart traitorously skip a beat. “You were learning the ropes of it all, and for a while, you were just a ratty brat who wanted to try on boots that were too big for her.”  He pauses and you look at him more clearly this time, head turned towards him fully in an effort to really listen to what he has to say. “But Mary, she-“ he swallows “I could just turn my thoughts off with her.”

He gives out another sigh. “I loved her, I did.” He admits. “It was so easy loving her at the time. We had no expectations of one another, and then all of a sudden that shifted and I don’t know if I could have been the man she needed me to be.”

You ache but it’s not because he mentions his past lover’s name.

“So I ended up actin’ like a goddamn fool. Boozin’, sleeping around.” He groans, obviously not proud of his previous ventures. “Dutch and Hosea, they couldn’t pull me out of it. I mean, they tried everything, but then-“ He releases a relieved chuckle. “Some woman I’d never met before poured a bucket of cold water over my head and pulled out her revolver, threatening to shoot my dumb ass if I didn’t get up.”

You snort as you’re reminded of that day.

It was dry and humid, overall making it a miserable summer afternoon. Arthur stumbled back into camp smelling like he was doused in moonshine, groggy and slurring his words together. Even Hosea, forgiving as he was, cringed at his sorry state.

You just about had it.

After collecting some from the nearby stream, you pushed Arthur down and doused him in ice-cold water. He sputtered, clearly not happy about what you just did and attempted to get up to confront you. You pulled out your gun before he could and shot right between his legs onto the dirt below. “If you don’t pull your damn weight around here, I’ll make sure the next shot hits!” you shouted, utterly disappointed.

“Good times.” You mutter and Arthur’s smile widens.

“Sure.” He agreed. “When my eyes started to clear, I swear to god I thought I was looking at an angel.”

You had a hard time believing that too. “You looked at a woman who just shot at you and thought she was angelic?”

He tries to find better words. “I guess you looked ethereal all together.” He tries to explain. “Like you were something I’d see at the pearly white gates of judgement.”

You sat amused at his thoughts. “That so?”

He’s finally able to make eye contact with you and revels in that fact. “My vision was still a little hazy and you just stood over me, posture straight, hat on.” He takes his hand and scratches his chin. It’s a tick for when he’s nervous. “Your hair had a glow to it from the sun and your eyes, they just- had this fire in em’ I’d never seen before.”

His shoulders drop and the mood suddenly turns mellow. “When we were ridin’ around and ended up at this clearin’, you just took off without me and I realized how much you’d grown into yourself right under my nose. You didn’t change much, you were still the same old, sunshine, animal-lovin’ princess, but the way you carried yourself? Asserted yourself more?  God-.”

He holds your gaze as he continues and it’s like the world holds its breath for whatever he has to say next. “You rode off, hair wild, not looking back at me one bit and I just couldn’t stop starin’ at you because I thought you were such a damn sight.”

“It made me wonder-“ his words trail off. He stops for a while and you let him. You know how much courage it was taking him right now to admit this to you, letting down those guarded stone walls he loved so much.

You lick your lips, and in an act of your own bravery, you settle your hand on top of his, to which he visibly softens upon. “Made you wonder?” You urge.

“If that’s what Mary felt like, seeing me go all those times.” He finishes. “Because I hated it. I hated every time you got on that horse and left, and it would only hurt less whenever you came back.”

Arthur’s hand starts to clench, but you flip his hand in yours so you can interlock your fingers properly. You give his hand a squeeze and the tension eases off.

“But then I hear you wantin’ to go off with some man and all I could do was mope like a sorry idiot because what if-“ His throat works. “What if you rode off and didn’t come back this time?”

“Oh, Arthur.” You softly coo.

His hand starts to make small slow circles over your hands. “You know I realized something when I last saw Mary that I didn’t before.”

You’re expectant to hear what it is.

“Every time it got a little too rough between us, she was done with me.” He perceived. “I don’t blame her, she deserves someone to make her happy, but I wasn’t gonna change fast enough in her eyes.” He squeezes your hand tighter. “But you- you didn’t expect me to change on a dime. You were patient, you understood that I didn’t want to start a family not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid of feeling that pain again.”

After clenching his jaw, he takes his other palm and cups your cheek with the utmost tenderness a man of his size could muster. “With you, I feel like I can be something else, something good.” You lean towards his touch, begging that if this were a dream, you never wanted to be woken up. His gaze is soft on your features, highlighted by the starlight above.

“I fell in love with you a long time ago Arthur Morgan.” You confess. “I keep running away because no one holds me close enough to keep me somewhere.”

You feel a lump in your throat as you remember all the times you rode off wanting to hear him shout "Wait!", but he never did.

“I know and I’m sorry for that sweetheart, I really am.”

Tears start to escape your eyes and you don’t bother wiping them away. “Loving you hurt so much Arthur.” You whimper. “I started to pack all of those feelings away if it meant I didn’t have to ruin what we already had.”

He presses his rough lips to your forehead and leans back. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He tilts your chin up with a finger. “If I could go back and change the way I handled it all, I would.”

“Give me something to believe that this is real. That I’m not just making this up in my misery.”

Arthur takes a moment to look at you before he speaks. He takes the time to figure out how he’s supposed to approach what he wanted to convey “Close your eyes for just a second.” He mumbled, his voice pleading.

You don’t question it and do what he wants you to do. You fully accept you’d be one of those pathetic individuals who’d follow him off a cliff if it meant staying with him and keeping him safe.

In the darkness, you feel him pick up your hands and place them on his chest. Under your palms, you feel the fast thrum of the beat of his heart and the laboured way his chest rises. You stay like that for a few seconds and match your breathing to his.

“Okay,” his voice cuts through your thoughts “now open your eyes.” You follow his command and you open your eyes to Arthur with a tender expression. You feel his breathing get faster, like he’s almost waiting for a reaction.

You tilt your head. “What?”

Arthur chuckles quietly at your question. “This is me trying to prove I’m serious about you.” His hands are still around your wrists, keeping your palms on his chest in place.

“By what? Letting me feel you up?” You jokingly say. “Arthur, who do you think’s being lugging your heavy ass around when you’re drunk, cause it sure as hell ain’t Uncle-“

Even in the darkness that surrounded you, you can sense his embarrassment. He starts to sputter to quickly get words out “Wha- no, that’s not what- I- you-“ He stutters, clearly flustered at the comment. He sighs. “Now, that’s not what I meant and you know it, sweetheart.”

“So then, what?” You push. You’re not trying to be obtuse in any way, but you want to hear a proper answer.

Arthur swallows awkwardly. “I’m just- I want you to know that my heart beats for you.”

It puts you in such a complete state of shock, it renders you speechless.

Just a couple of days ago, you would have been thirsty to hear those words drip out of his lips, but now that you’ve actually heard him say it, you don’t know how to exactly respond.

“Sweetheart?” He calls, voice laced with worry.

You slowly lean down and press your ear against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. He smells like gun smoke and mountain air. The fast bu-dump of his heart is intoxicating, making you break out into a smile.

After a few seconds, he slowly places his own arms around you and pulls you in closer. His hold is firm. Secure. A bandwagon of bandits or federal agents could show up this instant and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone so much as even look at you the wrong way.

He tucks your head under his chin. “I can’t give you a house, or children, or land right now, but I want you to know you have my heart.” He places another soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ve had it for a long time and it’ll always be yours as long you’ll have me.”

“Well, I never thought Arthur Morgan was capable of such sweet words.” You tease.

You feel the rumble of his chest as he freely laughs. “Well, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other it seems.”

You give his statement some thought. “Maybe we can start to find those things about each other out.”

He nods against you. “I’d like that.”

You sniffle and follow him in letting out a laugh. “I’ll end up falling asleep here if we keep this up.”

He snickers at your comment. “I guess I’ll just have to carry you to bed then, huh?” He teases back, his tone light and playful.

You push away from his chest and fix your gaze directly at him, a dazed smile on your face. “I guess you’ll just have to, Arthur Morgan.”

His breathing hitches, obviously not expecting to be accepted on his offer. “Yeah, I suppose I will, sweetheart.”

You place a kiss squarely on his mouth and he reciprocates it almost immediately.

You grasp his face with your hands and do something you’ve been wanting to do since the day you met him.

His lips, though slightly chapped are soft and his stubble that he hasn’t shaved for weeks tickles your cheeks, poking you in a pleasurable way. You taste the tobacco on him and though you don’t smoke, maybe through kissing him you get the appeal. Fingers thread through your braid that’s falling apart by the second.

For the first time, you don't hold the butteflies back.

You part your lips to deepen the kiss and allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

It becomes hungry. Insatiable. It's years of pent up frustration and confusion exploding into a possession that consumes your whole body. He groans and you barely notice when he scoops you up, hooking his arm under your legs. “God, we could have been doing this earlier.” He growls.

As you giggle against his lips, Arthur continues to carry you, walking briskly towards your tent.

And the world around you stayed silent that night, except for a few hushed noises.

- - - - - - -

A/N: Yee-haw. Pls interact, I need to to talk to more RDR people lmao. pls.

[roseghoul26]

Part 1

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

“C’mon, we’re heading out. And make sure you bring that rifle.”

Arthur’s voice caused you to look up from polishing said rifle, the freshly cleaned barrel glinting in the afternoon sun. Before you stood the cowboy, one hand resting casually on his gun belt, the other rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. 

Narrowing your eyebrows, you stood, strapping the gun across your back. “You’re worried,” you stated, and you watched his movement halt. “Why?” 

“Dutch says… well how’d you know that? I ain’t even said anything yet.”

“You don’t need to say anything, cowboy. But that’s beside the point. Dutch says…?” You gestured for him to continue. 

You swore you heard him mutter something about you being a damn witch before he turned around, leading you to where the horses were hitched at the front of your camp. The new camp, Clemens Point, was starting to grow on you, even with all the bugs and coyotes around. The access to water was nice, and it was close enough to cities to not be a burden to go to, but far enough away from big populaces to live an outlaw lifestyle. As the two of you walked, Arthur began explaining the new plan that Dutch had roped you two into. 

“Pearson said he met some O’Driscolls, who claim Colm is willing to ‘negotiate peace’ with Dutch.” Arthur sounded as convinced as you felt.

“You’re kidding me.” 

“I swear to you. Don’t know what’s gonna come from it, but it’s a start.”

“You really believe Colm’ll just stop fighting Dutch?”

“Not really. But Micah got Dutch convinced he would, and crazier things have happened…” For the second time, you watched him rub the back of his neck. 

“You think it’s a trap, don’t you?” 

“I’d be a fool not to.”

By this time you had reached your horses, yours a large black and white war horse, his a brown Appaloosa.You went to go pick up your saddle which lay across the hitching post, but when your hands made contact with the leather, Arthur playfully swatted your hands away, picking the saddle up himself, heaving it up and over the horse with a light grunt. He had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, allowing you to fully appreciate his muscular forearms as he lifted with ease.

“Hey-” you began, before getting silenced with a look from the cowboy. 

After quickly securing the saddle, he held out his hand expectantly, slightly tipping himself downward in a mock bow. A cheeky smirk adorned his face. “Your ride is ready, princess.”

“I ain’t no princess,” you scoffed, but you still took his hand gingerly, unable to stop a faint smile from growing on your own face, and you stepped into one of the stirrups, using Arthur's hand to help bring your body fully over the saddle. 

His hand still held yours as he responded. “No you ain’t,” his gaze, which was playful, turned into something fonder and gentler, a look you’ve seen him give you time and time again. “You’re something better.”

Leaning down until you were almost at eye level with him, you swore you felt him squeeze your hand ever so tighter, and you spoke low, slightly husky. “And what would that be, Arthur Morgan?”

His eyes widened, and you watched his eyes flick up and down your face, trying to determine if your flirtatious tone was a joke or not. A few seconds passed before he opened his mouth to respond. “You’re-”

“C’mon lovebirds! Hurry up!” Micah’s shouting broke whatever trance the two of you had been in, and you felt Arthur quickly drop your hand like it was scalding, stepping back to create an appropriate amount of space between the two of you. A light dusting of pink covered both of your faces, his blue eyes looking everywhere but you, and a quick scan of the camp told you that Micah wasn’t the only one watching the two of you: Javier and Charles shared a look, the hunter laughing gently as the other shook his head; Tilly and Mary-Beth were furiously whispering to each other, glancing over at the two of you every other second.

Clearing your throat, you straightened back up, urging your horse forward as Arthur mounted his, catching up to Micah and Dutch who sat waiting at the entrance to camp. A few seconds later you heard Arthur approach, settling at your right side. “Ready?” Dutch asked, turning and leaving once receiving nods from you and the others. Following suit with Dutch and Micah in the lead, you settled in for the ride. 

Glancing over to the cowboy to your right, you watched him chat with Dutch, not paying attention to the conversation as you took in the man who has plagued every thought in your brain for the last two years. It was no secret you were head-over-heels for Arthur; you had been for at least the past two years. The two of you had been friends for at least four years at this point, becoming close when you joined the gang after a partially-successful pickpocket attempt against Dutch (you had managed to snag his gold pocket watch, but were subsequently caught a few minutes later once he realized). Despite that, he had offered you a place with the gang. You accepted, partially because you needed money, a place to sleep, and could possibly make friends, but you also joined because you finally had a place to put your niche talents to use. 

Arthur and you became close quickly, and you worked together well, meaning you were often sent out together for jobs. It was a platonic relationship, but the two of you always danced the line of platonic and romantic, flirty remarks being tossed around wildly. It wasn’t until the last year or two where you felt yourself start to actually fall in love with the cowboy, and the flirting wasn’t helping. It was the age old tale of falling for your best friend, and feeling too afraid to say anything in case it wasn’t reciprocated, possibly ruining said friendship. 

It wasn’t hard to fall for him. For all the hard front he puts up, he has a kind heart, going out of his way to help folks (he usually preferred when a reward was offered, but would do things begrudgingly if none was presented). He was loyal, staying by Dutch’s side through thick and thin, and had humor drier than a desert. And he wasn’t bad on the eyes either, a thinker body built from years of labor, skin tanned and scars from years in the wild and sun. Eyes bluer than the ocean, you found yourself always drowning in their depths. 

You hadn’t realized you had been staring at him until you heard him say your name, slightly loud, as if he had been trying to get your attention for a bit. He laughed, “I asked, ‘he treating you well?’” 

When you gave him a confused look, he pointed downwards to your horse, which Arthur had bought for you a few weeks ago after your previous horse was shot by some Lemoyne Raiders. “He is,” you stroked his mane affectionately, earning you a content huff from the beast. “Thank you again, Arthur.”

“It’s nothing, really. You named him yet?”

“I have. You ever read Charles Dickens?” 

“Ain’t much of a reader,” he responded. 

“His name is Tiny Tim, from A Cristmas Carol. My mom would read it every year ‘round Christmas time.”

“Tiny Tim? There ain’t nothing tiny ‘bout that beast!”

“That’s what’s funny!” You laughed, and Arthur just shook his head, trying and failing to hide his own laughter. 

“Yer cute,” he said, nonchalantly, like he had no idea he was actually saying it. You just stared at him, caught off guard by his seemingly very genuine statement. Now it was his turn to be confused, and he cocked his head to side, glancing at you quizzically. 

Dutch’s voice had snapped your gazes back forward, meeting his eyes as he turned to talk. “You know, I’ve been fighting Colm for so long now… I can barely remember a time when it was different.”

The man to your right finally looked away from you, his expression harding as he responded. “And you’re still fighting him now, make no mistake of that.”

“Here he goes…” Micah began. “Doubting Thomas… is there any plan you ain’t sour on?”

“Maybe you’re right. I’m just nervous. Let’s not waste any more lives needlessly.”

“I ain’t costing lives here… I’m saving them. What did you say, we had Pinkertons coming after us?”

“Because of Blackwater,” you chimed in. 

Micah continued, “And Leviticus Cornwall and his private army! Then… who knows when this local hillbilly thing will come to a head, hm? Can we really afford to be fighting on all these fronts, and O’Driscoll?”

The group was silent for a moment, all chewing on the words spoken by the blonde man. 

“There is wisdom in that,” Dutch finally said. 

“For once,” you muttered, thinking you were unheard until you heard a chuckle from your right. 

“Oh, I hope so, gentlemen, but… like I said, I’m nervous.”

“Yeah, me too,” you added. “Feels too good to be true.”

Now it was Micah’s turn to shift around his saddle to face you. “Look, you ain’t even going to be the one in danger… we’ll get on over there… find a nice perch for you to settle your pretty self into… you got that rifle, don’t you?”

Choosing to ignore that one particular comment of his, you tapped the strap across the shoulder that held your rolling block rifle, one of your most prized possessions. “Never leave without it,” you said, failing to notice the way that Arthur glared daggers into Micah, who continued talking.

“Then me, Dutch, and Arthur walk right into the lion’s den, with you to cover us.”

“Just stay calm, unless I give you a reason not to,” you said, a growing tension building inside you.

Dutch gave you a reassuring smile.“Oh, we’ll be fine. We’ve got you.”

“I will do my best.”

“Oh, my dear, with you watching over me, I would walk into hell itself.”

“As would I,” Micah added. 

You weren’t doubtful of your abilities as a sharpshooter, but the praise coming from the man you respected, and Micah, helped bolster your confidence, and you felt yourself sitting up straighter as you rode. “You don’t need me to tell you how great you are,” Arthur said, pausing a moment before continuing. “But I’m gonna anyway. I would go anywhere if I knew you was watching over me.”

“Now y’all are putting too much pressure on me,” you joked, trying to clear the comforting ache in your chest from Arthur’s words. “Gonna give me performance anxiety.”

“Arthur knows a thing or two ‘bout that!” 

“Micah, I swear-” he growled, and you and Dutch shared glances before breaking into laughter, the tension building up with the upcoming meeting dissipating momentarily. 

The next few minutes of riding were in comfortable silence, before Micah halted suddenly as you reached the base of the hills, the rest of you skidding to a halt behind him. “Hey, up there, men on the ridge.” 

Glancing up, you indeed saw four men atop the ridge, all four on horses, looking down on your group. You watched Dutch place a hand on his gun, already ready for things to go wrong. “O’Driscolls, from the look of them.”

“I don’t like having eyes on us.” Arthur grumbled. 

“We’re close,” Micah pointed to you. “You’ll be the eyes soon enough.”

Nodding, you swung your rifle around so it sat in your hands. “Let’s go.”

The group started back up again, riding around and up the hill. That previously dissipated tension was back, and you saw the way that Arthur’s jaw clenched as he rode. “Maybe he’s right, Dutch. Maybe I have pushed too hard. Got us into situations that… could have been safer. I just… I see all these mouths we got to feed, and I… I dream too big. Caring too much, that’s my problem.”

“The hell you on about, Micah?” You asked, Arthur nodding in agreement. The men in front both ignored you.

“Caring too much?” Dutch scoffed. “There’s no such thing.”

After giving you a look that screamed confusion, Arthur exclaimed “This is horse shit. From both of you!”

“It might be! Micah might be full of shit. Colm O’Driscoll might be full of shit. The promise of this great nation, men create equal, liberty and justice for all… that might be nonsense too. But it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in. Can’t you see that, friend?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try. All I ask is you try.”

Finally reaching your destination, you all halted again, and you watched Micah turn around so he was face-to-face with you. “Alright, princess,” he looked directly at Arthur, jesting at the earlier interaction he interrupted, before looking back to you. “You’re gonna peel off up ahead. We’ll be meeting down on the plane. Find a spot just above us where you can keep an eye on things.”

“Alright, alright.” You responded, getting ready to leave before Arthur stopped you.

“However this shakes out, let’s aim to meet back at the fork in the road afterwards.”

“Got it. Behave yourselves, boys.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” you heard Dutch respond before him and Micah took off toward the plane. Again, you turned to leave, but you heard your name leave Arthur’s mouth. 

Glancing at him, you gave him an easy smile, before chuckling lightly. “Better get going cowboy. They’re gonna start without you.”

Your laugh died in your throat as you saw a rather serious Arthur before you, an almost desperate look in his eyes. “Be careful.” He inhaled shakily. “Please.”

“I- I will,” your answer sounded more like a question. “But it’s not me you should be worried about. I’m not going into the ‘lion’s den’, as Micah put it. I’ll be fine.”

“Just promise me if things go wrong, you’ll get the hell out of here.”

“You know I can’t promise that. But for you, I’ll certainly try.”

Knowing that was the best he was going to get from you, he just shook his head, and began to make his way toward the others. “I’ll see ya later, princess.” 

Turning so he couldn’t see your flustered state, you waved him away, laughing as you heard Micah shout hurry up, loverboy. Reaching the top of the hill, you dismounted, hitching your horse to a nearby dead tree, and as crouched at the edge, you watched through the scope of your rifle as the men waited for the O’Driscolls to arrive. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You should’ve known something was wrong when you only saw three men on the plane. 

It wasn’t the fact that one of these men was Colm himself, nor was it the fact that each of these men were armed and dangerous, ready to fire at a single wrong move from Dutch. With you watching from above, and Micah and Arthur both backing Dutch from behind, you had no doubt which side would win in a shootout. 

No, it was the fact that you remembered there being four O’Driscolls waiting atop the hill as you all approached.

At the time, as you crouched on your perch, keeping eye on the “negotiation” happening between the two gangs, you hadn’t been worried, figuring they had a person on watch as well. You should’ve looked a little harder, could’ve scanned the nearby hills and see that the fourth O’Driscoll was nowhere to be found. Maybe if you’d have done this, you wouldn’t be hung upside down in Colm’s basement, a nasty gunshot wound in your left shoulder.

The footsteps had approached quickly, and the butt of the rifle was even quicker, striking you across the face with a sickening crack. Everything went black, and you barely remember waking up strung across the back of a horse for a few moments before falling back into unconsciousness. 

You remember waking up again, and you were able to escape for a moment before one O’Driscoll was able to get you with a rope, causing you to eat shit, your head slamming against the forest floor. They had laughed to each other, before one of them held their gun up to your shoulder, an agonizing blast and a flash of white light the last thing you saw before darkness took over again. 

Now here you were, strung upside down, the blood currently rushing to your brain making it pound harder. Everything hurts, the small puddle of blood beneath you indicative of the state of your body. You’d lost track of how long you’d been here; everything became a blur after the first day. 

Colm had yet to make an appearance, his men being the ones to torture you. It was the same few men each time. They alternated from keeping you upside down to having you tied down to a chair, to having you hanging by chains that pulled at your shoulder, aggravating your wounds even further. But they never asked many questions, instead finding their answers in their knives and pokers that they carved into your flesh.

Day after day you searched for means of escape, coming up fruitless each time; his men were surprisingly well trained, making sure to not leave anything in range of you that could be used as a tool or weapon. 

However, they wanted you alive, for whatever reason. Crude first aid had been applied to your wounds, preventing infection and disease from killing you off, but the one at your shoulder continued to be the worse. Occasionally they would give you water and stale food, messily hand fed by one of the men. Despite that, every time you heard the cellar door open, you waited with bated breath for the final blow, but it never came.

The cellar they kept you in was small, musty, and lit by a single candle on a table to your right, just out of reach from where you hung. A few scraps of cloth lay on the table, covered in crimson, and a single chair sat tucked in the corner, also covered in blood. 

Trying to find any sort of comfort, you tried sitting up a bit, your abs screaming out as you managed to lift yourself up a few inches, and some of the blood returned to the rest of your body. Dizzy, you shut your eyes, letting yourself flop back down, the chains creaking above you. 

The chains were so loud that you almost failed to hear the squeak of the cellar doors opening, heavy footsteps coming closer and closer to you. Opening one of your eyes, you saw an unfamiliar silhouette approaching, until you heard him speak your name. “It’s good to see ya.” He said, stepping fully into the cellar, the candlelight allowing you to see him fully.

“Hello, Colm,” your voice was hoarse from screaming, and you watched the greasy man step closer, a plate of food in one hand, some kind of utensil in the other. Finally opening both eyes, you  watched him place his things down on the table, the clatter of the plate barely audible over your own heartbeat. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, because before you knew it a bolt of pain tore through your body and you cried out, Colm stepping back from you after pressing his hand hard into your shoulder. 

He sneered down at you, grimy yellow teeth flashing. “How’s the wound?”

Gritting your teeth, you stared down the leader of the O’Driscolls with as much venom as you could muster, willing back the tears of pain. “Can’t feel it.”

“Whatever makes ya feel better,” he stalked over to his food, turning his back to you as he ate. “ Now, tell me…” he spoke through mouthfuls of food, “fine gun like you… why you still running around with old Dutch? Could come ride with me and make real money.”

“You know it ain’t about the money, Colm.”

“That’s right… it’s Dutch’s famous charisma.” In a blur of movement, his food forgotten, he kicked you square in the chest, knocking the wind out of you. Your body swung from the chains, which groaned and creaked at the movement. All you could let out was a soft wheeze, your vision going double. “You killed a whole punch of my boys… at Six Point Cabin.”

So why haven’t you killed me yet? You smirked, at least the best you could, your teeth stained red, lip splitting. “One of your own took us there. Bastards had it comin’.”

The click of a gun and the feeling of cold metal against your head made your wish you kept your mouth shut. The final blow was coming at the hands of Colm. Trying to swallow, your throat too dry to do so, you put on a brave face, even though internally you were terrified. There was so much you had left to do, so much left to tell. This wasn’t where your story ended, right?

Closing your eyes, you tried to take deep breaths, fighting down the panic bubbling inside. Do not show him you’re afraid, you thought. Don’t give him the satisfaction of you being afraid in your last moments. 

And you waited.

And waited.

You waited until you felt the barrel of the gun slowly pull away, and your eyes shot open, confused. “Yer lucky I need you alive,” Colm snarled, striking you across the face before returning his pistol to its holster, running a hand over his face while circling your body like a vulture. “Law want’s ya alive. All of ya.”

“Best of luck with that, sayin’ you only got one of us.”

“For now.”

“You planning on raiding us?” Colm didn’t respond. “You can tell me. Not leaving here soon anyway.”

“Nah,” Colm began. “Ain’t gotta go to that much trouble to round you up. We lure an angry Arthur in to rescue ya… Dutch and the others following… and  grab all of ya and hand ya in… then disappear.”

“So you only met with them to grab me?”

“Of course…” Colm chuckled. “He’s gonna be so mad. He gonna come raging over here… and a whole lot of ya… and the law’ll be waiting for him.” Sighing, he crouched down before you, his rancid breath overwhelming your senses. “Oh, I missed you.”

The first strike went to your gut. 

The second went to your bad shoulder. 

The third and final strike landed at your nose, blood spraying from the impact. 

Groaning, you felt the warm liquid streaming from your nose, joining the puddle beneath you with a soft drip, drip, drip. Colm stood up, grabbing his plate with a huff, shaking out one of hands, his knuckles slightly busted from the strikes. He didn’t say anything as he left, stomping up the stairs loudly, the door slamming shut behind him.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, a newfound sense of urgency to escape coming over you, needing to stop Colm’s plan from coming to fruition. Glancing around, you looked again for something to help you escape. Unlike all the other times, however, something caught your eye on the table; whatever utensil Colm had brought down sat there, glinting gently in the light. Luckily for you, it seemed like Colm wasn’t as well trained as his men.

Slowly, you began to rock yourself back and forth, trying to build up enough momentum to reach it. Holding back noises of pain, you rocked, getting closer and closer with every swing, your fingers straining and you reached, and stretched, until finally it was in your grasp. You nearly cried with relief, and after glancing at the utensil in your hand, which was a two-pronged fork, you ceased your swinging, eventually coming to a full stop. 

Hands shaking, using whatever scrap of strength you had left in your hands, you bent on of the prongs forward, creating a lockpick like instrument. Now it was time for the hard part, which was trying to reach the padlock that held the shackles around your feet, connecting you to the chains. 

Every muscle in your body was begging you to stop, shaking as you slowly started to sit up, your core working overtime to get you up. All you had to do was just reach and disengage the lock. It took a few tries until you were finally able to get it in, and then-

Click. 

You didn’t have any tie to brace yourself before you made contact with the floor, going face first into your own blood pool. Rolling on to your back, you let the world stop spinning before sitting up, glancing worriedly at the cellar door to see if anyone heard your commotion.

After no one barged in after a few moments, you began to stand up, your knees giving out as soon as you were upright. Stumbling, you practically fell into the table, nearly knocking over the candle in the process. Your arms were outstretched in front of you, bracing yourself against the table, and you saw a few droplets of blood from your nose hit the wood. Grimacing, you snatched a bloodied cloth from nearby, tearing a small amount off to block off the blood flow. 

It was at this point that you really started feeling the gunshot wound in your shoulder. After a quick assessment, you realized it was still an open wound, but it was a clean shot, meaning you wouldn’t have to dig the bullet out of you. Eying both the metal fork in your hand and the candle on the table, you mentally steeled yourself for what you were about to do. 

Dragging the chair up next to you and sitting, you heated up the metal instrument until it almost glowed, then before you could lose your nerve, you pressed it to the wound.

It wasn’t the pain that hit you first; it was the smell, which would forever be engraved in your mind. But after you clocked the smell, the pain hit you like a tidal wave. You couldn’t tell if you were screaming or not, but you continued to hold the device, waiting until you couldn’t see blood spurt out at every beat of your heart. 

Groaning, you slumped your head on the table, feeling exhausted after putting yourself through that, but you had only a few seconds to recover before you heard the door open again. Turns out your cries were very much audible. 

Pressing yourself against the wall, you heard someone begin to come down the stairs. “Hold on, I’ll be back in a minute,” you heard the stranger say. You recognized the voice; it was one of the torturers. 

The man stood at the base of the stairs, dumbfounded, as he took in the empty shackles before him. “What the hell-” That was all he was able to get out before you pounced, the tool finding a home in his throat, and he crumpled to the floor, a small gurgling leaving him before he stilled. The man, unfortunately, was only armed with a knife, which you grabbed, holding it out defensively in front of you as you climbed the stairs. You had to move; it wouldn’t be long until his friends started looking for him. 

You had almost reached the exit before two shadows approaching halted your movement, and you pressed yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Two men approached, neither of which you recognized. They were chatting as they patrolled, not really paying attention to their surroundings as they patrolled. A few tense minutes later, the figures retreated, and you dashed out as quickly as you could.

Taking in a breath of fresh air, you took in your surroundings: the two guards were to your left, their backs to you; a small shack was in front of you, and you saw some guns lying out; to your right you saw a horse hitching post, and you thanked the unseen forces of the universe that your horse was here; surrounding you were multiple houses, all you presumed were filled with O’Driscolls. 

First, you needed a weapon. Then, you were getting the hell out of here.

Moving as quietly and quickly as you could, you kept low, keeping an eye out for any other O’Driscolls. Entering the small wood shack, you grabbed the first gun you saw, and you almost left before you saw a very familiar engraved barrel out the corner of your eye. There, sitting in a wooden crate were your weapons, including your prized rifle. 

Swinging it over your shoulder, and securing your gun belt across your waist, you were actually starting to feel hopeful about your chances of survival. Keeping your stolen knife and your pistol out, you poked your head out the door, looking for any guards before taking off toward your horse, still trying to keep hidden.

Once you were close to the horses, you made your presence known, not wanting to spook them. Approaching your mount, you muttered softly, rubbing his neck affectionately. Immediately his eyes flew open, and he began rearing until he realized it was just you.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you, boy.”

Something told you he felt the same. 

“Let’s go home.”

You were partially up your horse when you heard a commotion behind you. Whipping your head around, you saw a few O’Driscolls emerge from the various houses, guns out and pointed at you, shouting at you and each other. You had just managed to get on before the shots started going off, bullets whizzing past you as Tiny Tim took off like a bat out of hell, hooves barely hitting the ground as you soared across the plane. 

You could barely make out anything around you, everything a blur as the wind whipped across your battered body, relishing the feel of fresh air before hearing footsteps behind you. Glancing behind, you saw four O’Driscolls in pursuit, firing wildly in an attempt to stop you. 

Aiming behind you, you took a deep breath in, stilling yourself to the best of your ability, taking in each of your targets before squeezing the trigger.

In rapid succession, each man took a bullet to the chest, either stopping them or causing them to go flying off their horse. Within moments your pursuers were gone, leaving only you standing. After hearing no more shouting or hoofbeats, you figured it was safe to holster your weapon. Tiny Tim had slowed down some, a quick trot instead of a full out gallop. 

The adrenaline from the last ten minutes was beginning to fade, your drooping eyes evident of your waning energy. Leaving forward, you leaned forward as best you could in your saddle, your arms wrapping loosely around your horses next for some security.

“C’mon TT, get us home.” You whispered, before your eyes closed at their own volition, your thoughts only of Arthur as you slept.

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 5 - No Anchor For A Restless Heart Summary: For the first time, Arthur is left alone with his thoughts. Moved to a larger tank, he can’t help but wonder—is this freedom, or just a bigger cage? And then there’s her, the woman who lingers in his mind, pulling at something deep inside him, leaving him tangled in feelings he’s only beginning to understand. wc: 5.7k tw: none really, just arthur being horny and lonely Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: Arthur's pov is here! It's a shorter chapter, but he deserved a standalone :)

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare @shygamergirl01 @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @sevikaspuertoricanwife @bomdada

Arthur had never known a gentle touch for most of his long life. Not since before the cold hands, the steel walls, the endless experiments. His mother’s touch—if he could still remember it at all—had been soft, warm, full of something he had no name for anymore. But those memories had been stolen from him, washed away the moment his father tore him from the sea and sold him to men who had no love for creatures like him.

The scientists who raised him were not cruel in the way monsters were cruel. They spoke to him, trained him, taught him their language so he could understand their commands. Some even smiled at him. But their hands had never been gentle. Their voices never held warmth. Their kindness, if it could be called that, had always been edged with calculation. A means to an end. And he had learned—he had learned quickly that disobedience meant pain. That submission meant survival. 

Dutch had beaten loyalty into him so deeply, so thoroughly, that Arthur had never even questioned it. Not when he was a child, trembling under Dutch’s sharp gaze, desperate for approval. Not when he was a young pup, enduring every test, every needle, every wound inflicted in the name of progress. 

Not even when Dutch had told him it was an honor—that his suffering had purpose.

He had been conditioned to obey, to trust Dutch’s word above all else. If Dutch said he was special, he believed it. If Dutch said he was his, Arthur accepted it. If Dutch said he was meant to give—his blood, his body, his very existence for the greater good—he did so without hesitation.

Even when they asked for his own flesh and blood. Even when they took his son.

And still, some part of him had clung to the lie, to the belief that Dutch wouldn’t betray him, that there had to be a reason, a justification, for it all. By the time Arthur realized the truth, it was far too late. His loyalty had already cost him everything.

Even now, long after he had torn himself from their grasp, their ghosts still clung to him like barnacles.

Arthur inhaled deeply, the sensation unfamiliar. Was this freedom? Or did he trade one cage for another. The thought coiled tight in his chest, tangled with something that felt far too much like apprehension.

He had been moved to the largest tank in the facility by Hosea and John. He tolerated it, though he grumbled about being touched again by the greasy, scar-faced one. John’s hands had been firm, impatient, carrying none of the reverence the woman had. But Hosea’s touch—his words—had soothed something in Arthur that had ached for longer than he could remember.

The older man spoke to him like he was a person. Not an experiment. Not a specimen. He didn’t prod or pry or ask questions laced with ulterior motives.

Arthur appreciated it.

But it wasn’t Hosea’s voice that made his hearts pound or his gills flutter. It wasn’t Hosea’s hands he thought about when he curled into himself at the bottom of the tank, trying to calm the nerves that had been flaying him alive for the past twelve hours.

It was her.

The tank was bigger than anything he had ever been in before, spanning the entire length of the facility. A portion of it led outside, where Arthur could poke his head above water and drink in the scent of the ocean—real ocean, not the chemical-tinged, filtered substitute he had been forced to endure. The glass walls stretched through the hallways where visitors could admire the fish and coral, though Hosea had asked him to remain in the concealed section of the tank during the day, away from the public’s eyes. 

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice.

After being lowered into the water, he wasted no time seeking out the deepest, darkest crevice he could find, curling into the shadows like he could disappear into them. Like if he made himself small enough, unseen enough, the weight of his past wouldn’t be able to find him here. He was perfectly content with hiding here until his pretty friend returned in the morning. 

The water here was different. Clean. It carried no traces of rust or algae, nothing that made his gills sting or his body feel sluggish. There was no burning in his lungs, no chemical tang coating his tongue, no needles waiting for him just beyond the surface. He should have felt relief.

But the freedom tasted strange. Empty.

For the first time in his life, no one was giving him orders. No cold voice was demanding his compliance, no sharp hands were waiting to punish him if he failed. He could swim, he could hide, he could do whatever he pleased. But he didn’t know how to exist without a cage around him.

The water felt too open, too unfamiliar. He had spent so long in chains that now, unshackled, his body still braced for pain that wasn’t coming. His muscles stayed tight, his mind stayed restless. He had been trained to serve, to give, to obey, to be useful—and now there was no one telling him what to do.

And yet, despite the new sense of freedom, despite everything he had endured to get here—

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She was the only thing that felt real in all of this. The warmth of her touch, the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way she looked at him—not like a creature, not like an experiment, but like a person.

The feeling it stirred in his chest terrified him more than anything.

Arthur clung to the memories of her like a drowning man grips the last breath in his lungs. They were his anchor in a sea of uncertainty, the only thing keeping him from slipping into the abyss. He could still feel her fingers—soft, deft, human. Not webbed like his own, not cold and clinical like the hands that had always touched him before. Her touch had burned into him, not with pain, but with something deeper, something divine. When she had traced over his gills with such reverence, such care, it had sent a shuddering euphoria through his body—one he had never known before.

Her scent still clung to him, tangled in the delicate filaments of his gills. He breathed her in, played with the sensation, let it coat his tongue like a drug he couldn’t stop tasting.

No fear.

Arthur hated the smell of fear—it tasted like copper, sharp and bitter, like blood in the water before a kill. But what he tasted on her was something else entirely. Curiosity. Need. A deep, primal yearning that stirred something in him, something old and instinctual, something dangerous. He was desperate to explore it further, to understand the pull that was drawing him toward her.

Mating season had always been a torment for Arthur, a time when his body was out of his control, when it screamed with needs he couldn’t quite grasp. His hormones surged, a tidal wave crashing against every thought, every feeling. His emotions twisted into something unbearable—when he wasn’t consumed by a burning rage, he was drowning in a gnawing, suffocating loneliness. It was as if something primal was clawing inside him, itching beneath his skin, demanding to be heard and felt. The restlessness became a physical ache, a gnawing pressure in his chest, like something inside him just wouldn’t settle. His muscles tensed with an overwhelming urge to move, to mate, to escape—but where would he go? The compulsion to do something, anything, to release this energy gnawed at him until it felt like his skin might split open from the tension.

Before Isaac, before he had any understanding of what his body was crying out for, he had spent these seasons curled in on himself, pressing down the urges, starving for something he didn’t fully understand. It was a hunger that could never be satisfied, a desperate longing he couldn’t name, and it left him more frustrated and confused with every passing year.

He hadn’t even known why he felt so restless, why his body ached for touch, why he was always so goddamn hungry and aroused to the point it made him blind with frustration. He had never been given affection, had never known tenderness, but his body had craved it like he might go belly-up without it. His captivity had taught him nothing about his own biology—only pain, only submission. So he had suffered through those seasons alone, confused and miserable, his instincts screaming for something he didn’t have the words for.

And then they had asked him for an offspring. 

It had taken him a few seasons to figure it out. To understand what it meant, what his body could do. But when he did, it had been the greatest thing he had ever accomplished.

The tests, the experiments, the research could all be damned.

Arthur had created life. His body, the same body they had tortured, tested, and treated as nothing more than a tool, had given life. And for the first time in years, he had felt overwhelming pride.

Those four years with Isaac were the only truly happy memories he had. The only time he had ever known what it meant to love something so deeply it hurt. To connect the ache in his chest from this time of year with a deeper, greater purpose. 

Swallowing the memories that threatened to choke him like an oil slick, Arthur forced himself back to the present—to her. The woman who had captured something deep and ancient within him, sinking hooks into his very soul from the moment their eyes met. He whispered her name into the water, liking the way it vibrated in the current, how it danced through the filaments of his gills like a secret prayer.

It tasted like a song, like the word in his native tongue that meant bright hope. And Arthur thought it was fitting.

His language was the only piece of himself he still carried—a fragment of his mother, of his people, of a life he had been robbed of. But she, she was something entirely new. She wasn’t frightened of him, and wasn't disgusted by what he was. No, she enjoyed his presence. She touched him, explored him. Not out of obligation, not to take from him, but because she wanted to.

And god of the seven seas, he craved that touch more than anything.

Perhaps he had been too eager. The moment he felt her hesitate, a devastating fear had gripped him, the fear that she might pull away, that she might think better of this, that the moment might slip away. He had acted on instinct, capturing her wrist, guiding her fingers—offering himself to her in a way he never had before. Those scientists had touched him everywhere, but not like this. Nothing like this. And fuck, she had embraced him like she had done it a million times before. Like she was pleasuring herself.

Arthur sucked in a breath at the memory, the mere thought of her touch making his muscles coil tight. Her fingers had traced the edges of his mating slit with agonizing slowness, featherlight and teasing, before finally pressing into that delicate, soft center. He remembered the look on her face—wide-eyed, curious, innocent in a way that made something deep inside him ache. The soft pink dusting her cheeks, the way her lips parted just slightly, caught between fascination and something she didn’t yet understand. And then, that gasp—sweet and breathless—her brows knitting together as she felt him, as she marveled at the softness beneath her fingertips. He had never seen anyone revel in him before, never felt anyone touch him with such admiration and respect.

And now, alone in the water, he tried to mimic the way she had touched him. His own fingers weren’t as soft, weren’t as curious, but he tried.

He traced around the entrance, feeling the warmth beneath his own touch. His breath stuttered when he pressed deeper, his slick coating his fingers. Reaching that sweet spot she had found so effortlessly. A jolt of pleasure struck his core, sharp and electric, and his tail lashed instinctively. His bioluminescence flared to life, pulsing with the rhythm of his pleasure, glowing hot beneath his skin.

How had she known to touch him like this?

Arthur let out a soft, melodic moan at the thought of her, at the memory of those same fingers stroking his gills—so tender, so worshipful. He could still smell her, the musky scent of her arousal thick in his mind. When he had tasted it, when that intoxicating flavor had coated his tongue, his control had shattered.

Never had he slipped out like that on accident before.

He should have pulled away when he felt himself growing hard, when he felt the aching pressure pressing against his scales and parting to release, but how could he? He didn’t want her to stop.

The sensation was unlike anything he had ever known.

His gills were sensitive, a vulnerability he had never dared to share with anyone before. They had always been a source of pain, something that burned when the water was tainted, they were prodded and examined by hands that didn’t care if they hurt him. But her hands—her touch—had been reverent. She had traced the soft folds of skin like they were something precious and sacred. 

The moment she stroked along the delicate filaments, a shuddering gasp had torn from his throat, raw and unbidden. His muscles had tensed, his tail thrashing through the water as sensation overwhelmed him. It was electric, sharp and liquid all at once, flooding his nerves with heat. His gills fluttered involuntarily under her fingertips, instinctively fanning open in response to the stimulation.

His body had reacted before he could stop it. Before he could even think.

A wave of pleasure had surged through him, his bioluminescence flaring like the sun in the morning light. He knew she had seen it, just as he knew she had felt the way his body twitched beneath her touch. The growing hardness nuzzled into the warm flesh of her belly. Part of him was embarrassed, a deep, primal instinct telling him that he had exposed something he should have kept hidden. But it was out of his control—just like the lights that had fascinated her so much.

Another part of him—one much darker, much hungrier—thrived in the knowledge that she had responded to him as well. Along with her taste, he could feel and hear the pulse of her heart. It beat against her chest like the thrum of a storm-swept drum, resonating deep and wild, echoing through his veins, drawing him closer.

She was like a drug, an addiction he had never known he could have. Every part of her called to him, like the sea called to the moon, like the tide was demanding he take her, claim her.

Mate with her.

Arthur groaned and panted as his fingers worked, his body tight with a tension he couldn’t control, the scales parting once again to release a growing need inside him. The ache wasn’t just physical—it was longing, a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to experience in years. Stroking himself to the thought of her hands, her scent, her body crying out for him. It stirred something deep within, something he hadn’t felt in so long: humanity and love.

The longing wasn’t just for her touch; it was for the connection he never had, for the feeling that he mattered to someone, that he wasn’t just a monster or a thing to be used. With every breath and every beat of his heart, the desire twisted inside him, it was that very desperation that made him realize just how much he had buried, how much of himself he had locked away.

How she was opening him in ways he could never imagine. 

A sudden, primal pride bloomed in his chest, his fingers moving faster, his body trembling with the thought.

Were they courting? Was this what a mating ritual felt like?

That must be it.

And yet, she had stopped. Before things could escalate further, before their bodies could follow the rhythm of something far greater than either of them, she had pulled away. Apologizing. For what, he didn’t know. Arthur knew he should be the one apologizing—for coming onto her so suddenly, for letting himself be swept away by the primal pull of his instincts, by the steadily growing fondness he had for her. And yet, even in that moment, he hadn’t smelled fear on her. Only a cocktail of nerves and uncertainty—emotions he shared.

Arthur had no idea what he was getting himself into.

But he knew it couldn't be worse than where he had come from.

Humans had brought him nothing but pain. And yet, in what felt like a single night, he had fallen head over tail for one.

He pictured her smile, the way she commanded a room without force, the way she challenged the other males, how she advocated for him when no one else had. She was fierce—a protector, a fighter. And a deep, animalistic part of him knew she would bear strong, beautiful children.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as the scent of his own musk thickened the water, saturating the space around him with the evidence of his arousal. The thought of mating with her nearly sent him over the edge again. He longed to see her beneath those layers of fabric, to touch what lay hidden between her thighs—the source of that intoxicating scent. He ached to lay his hands upon the soft mounds on her chest, plush and full like jellyfish. To discover the textures and warmth of her body, to explore her in ways that no human male ever had.

But Arthur was a patient creature.

He would wait.

He would wait until she was comfortable with him, until her body no longer froze in uncertainty every time he drew near. He wished to learn her without words, to explore every inch of her skin, to find the places that made her tremble, made her gasp. He wanted to know her, to hear the songs that spilled from her lips when she unraveled beneath him.

And when that moment came—when she realized that the ocean itself had brought them together—he would let it guide him into her, and set a rhythm neither of them could deny.

A purpose as deep and vast as the sea.

The tension ebbed from his body, the aftershocks of pleasure fading into a dull, unsatisfying ache. He had grown tired of seeking release with his own hand. It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

Arthur slept little that night, though that wasn’t unusual for his kind. He only needed a few hours of rest, but even with the entire tank now his to explore, he remained curled up in his cave. The space was his—dark, quiet, safe—but his mind refused to settle. Every thought drifted back to her, the woman who had freed him, touched him with warmth, spoken to him with kindness. 

Would she come see him in the morning? Or would she make him wait? The anticipation gnawed at him, making the hours stretch unbearably long.

Despite his restlessness, Arthur wasn’t alone. The other creatures in the tank were just as curious about him as he was about them. They approached one by one, cautious but inquisitive, sniffing the water around him, brushing against his scales in hesitant greeting. He didn’t shoo them away—no, he observed them just as they observed him. He was meant to be part of their world, and yet so many of them were strangers to him. Animals he should have known, species that should have felt as familiar as his own reflection, and yet they did not. These were the ocean’s inhabitants, its true people. His people, for lack of a better word.

Some he recognized as food, and his stomach rumbled at the thought, but he wasn’t sure if he would be scolded for snacking on them. Hosea seemed to like even the smallest ones. Probably best to hold off on that.

Two creatures, in particular, seemed to like him more than the rest—a small gray seal pup and her mother. Arthur felt an odd warmth bloom in his chest as they stayed close, unafraid of him in a way that felt foreign and good. 

He named the mother Beatrice, after his own mother, and the pup he called Boadicea, the name he had nearly given his son. He figured they had been named already, but the words felt right on his tongue. Gave him a sense of belonging. A piece of home.

Boadicea was playful, nosing at his side, nipping gently at his arms before darting away, as if testing his reaction. Arthur grinned, playing along, pretending to be caught off guard each time she swam out from behind the cave entrance. They did this for hours—hide and seek, chase, gentle nudges and tumbles through the water. The little pup chirped excitedly, and Arthur found himself laughing, the deep, rumbling sound echoing through the tank. He hadn’t laughed like that in years.

When the first rays of dawn pierced the water, streaking it with golden light like the gates of heaven itself had cracked open, Arthur stilled. He counted the minutes. Surely, she would come to greet him. Would she make him wait until the day was over? Had he done something wrong? His stomach twisted at the thought.

But then—

A shift in the water. A familiar scent carried by the currents. A voice, muffled but unmistakable.

She was here.

His heart thundered. She was in the outdoor area of the tank.

Darting out of the depths, Arthur flicked his tail with such force that the water churned in his wake, sending ripples crashing against the walls of the tank. The sheer power of the movement sent a thrill through him, something raw and untamed awakening in his chest. For the first time in his life, swimming felt natural—not just a means of survival, not just another action controlled by those who had held him captive. 

This was what had been stolen from him. This was what had been taken. The freedom to move, to stretch, to exist without chains.

The thought sent a strange ache through him, but he refused to let it take hold. Not now. Not when he had something good waiting for him.

His body cut through the water with ease, and for a moment, he let himself revel in it, stealing an extra lap around the tank just because he could. Joy unlike anything he had ever known flooded through him. It was pure, unfiltered, and it made his bioluminescent veins flicker to life in soft, rhythmic pulses. He could only imagine what it would feel like to experience this in the open sea, to race with the tide and not against the walls of a tank.

But even that thrill couldn’t distract him for long.

He smelled her before he saw her.

Coming up to the outdoor section of the tank, his sharp eyes locked onto her legs dangling in the water, bare skin gleaming under the golden morning light. She was perched on a flat ledge, a space meant for the seals and turtles to sunbathe, but today, it was hers. The moment he saw her, something deep inside him settled, like a current that had finally found its course.

Slowing his movements, he didn’t want to startle her. Carefully, he poked his head above the surface, waiting, watching. It didn’t take long.

Her face lit up when she saw him, eyes bright with warmth, the sunlight catching in her hair, making it shimmer like gold spun from the gods themselves.

"Arthur!"

His name on her lips was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

She extended her hand into the water, just as she had done the morning before. A simple gesture, a quiet offering, yet it sent something warm curling in his chest. He liked this game. This ritual. He liked that it was theirs.

It was an invitation—her way of asking for his presence, of letting him decide. It was a choice, his choice. And even though he already knew the answer, even though he would always choose her, there was something sacred in the asking.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly, her voice carrying over the water like a gentle breeze. Arthur pressed his bearded cheek into her palm, inhaling deeply as the gills on his neck flared. Her scent was stronger now in their proximity, wrapping around him like a warm undertow. 

He tasted her emotions in the water before he even saw them flicker across her face.

Guilt.

It was subtle, hidden beneath her usual warmth, but he caught it in the brief pause, in the way her fingers hesitated for just a second before stroking over his skin. His chest tightened. He searched her expression, scanning for an explanation. Has something changed between them? Had he done something wrong?

Then it struck him.

Their last meeting had been rather…intimate.

She must have been thinking about it too. About the way she touched him, explored him. The way he had—without thinking—asked her if she had a mate. And when she didn’t answer, he had let his nerves get the better of him, retreating before she could.

That must be it. She was here to tell him it wasn’t possible. That they weren’t possible.

Arthur’s heart sank.

“I’m fine,” he answered, already bracing himself for rejection. He forced his voice to stay even, though something in him twisted painfully. “The space is nice, bigger than what I had before.”

His tail twitched under the water as her thumb moved absently over his cheek, her touch soothing even as uncertainty gnawed at him.

There it was again—that flicker of sadness and guilt in her eyes.

Was it pity?

Or…was it something else?

“I hope the locals weren’t too bothersome,” she said, and though her lips curled into a smile, her eyes still carried that unspoken weight.

Arthur felt himself grin despite everything, his instincts tangled in the mixed signals she was sending. His mind told him to be cautious, to prepare for the inevitable, but his heart—his traitorous, aching heart—soaked in every moment of her presence.

“Nah,” he rumbled, tilting his head slightly into her touch, savoring it while he could. “If anything, I think I was the bothersome one. Managed to make some friends, though.”

Her face brightened instantly, the sadness momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. “Oh yeah? Tell me about them.”

“The gray seals have taken a likin’ to me,” he admitted, a soft chuckle vibrating in his chest. “’Specially the little one. She’s a sweet thing.”

And just like that, the tension in his chest loosened—if only for a moment.

“And adorable,” she mused, her fingers absentmindedly stroking along his cheek. “Her mother was pregnant and abandoned by her pod before coming here. Hopefully they’ll be released soon.”

Arthur nodded, taking in this information. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I called her Boadicea.” The name rolled off his tongue easily, carrying more weight than he intended. “Though she probably already has a name.” 

Her expression softened as she shook her head. “We don’t usually give our pateints a name since we see so many come and go. But I think Boadicea is beautiful.”

Arthur watched her carefully, studying every little shift in her face, the subtle movements that betrayed more than words ever could. He had spent so much time being observed—by scientists, by men who wanted to pick him apart, who wanted to see what made him useful—but he had never been given the chance to do the same in return. 

Not until now.

His eyes traced the gentle arch of her brows, the way her lips pressed together thoughtfully, the way she kept her hand on him, as if she wanted them to be close. She fascinated him. Not just because she had saved him, or because she wasn’t afraid of him, but because he wanted to understand her. To know her heart.

“You’re doing it again,” she said suddenly, and his gills twitched in surprise.

He blinked. “Doin’ what?”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Staring at me like I’m some kind of puzzle you’re trying to solve.”

Arthur felt warmth creep up his neck, but he didn’t deny it. “Can ya blame me? I reckon you did the same when we first met.” A grin pulled at his lips as he teased. “Those eyes nearly burned a hole straight through my tail.” 

She laughed, tilting her head. “You got me there. Guess I can't help it, you're nice to look at.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, the tension from before now softened at the edges. Arthur still wasn’t sure where they stood, but she was here. Talking to him. Touching him. That had to mean something.

Then, as if remembering something, she shifted slightly, reaching into her pocket. “Oh—that reminds me,” she said. “I, uh… I have something for you.”

Arthur swore one of his hearts stopped. He furrowed his brow. “Fr’me?” The words slipped out so fast. A gift? No one had ever given him something before. 

She nodded, pulling out a small object and cradling it in her palm. “I found this on the beach yesterday, and I—I don’t know, it made me think of you.” A new shyness colored her tone.

She held it out to him, the delicate curve of her fingers cradling the shell like something sacred. Arthur leaned in, his curiosity piqued, his gills flaring slightly as he took in the shimmering gift. It was breathtaking—smooth and polished by the tide, worn soft by time and the relentless caress of the ocean’s currents. The sunlight caught its surface, casting shifting hues of blue, violet, and green that danced like light refracting through water. But what struck him most was the deep blue iridescence that ran through its center, a color so eerily close to the glow of his own veins that it made his chest tighten. 

“It’s an abalone shell,” she explained, her voice gentle, almost hesitant. “Charles told me once that they’re a symbol of guidance and calm emotions. The Native Americans carried them to ease their stress and release negativity.”

Arthur traced his fingers over its ridges, feeling the way the smoothness gave way to the rough, scalloped edge—proof of its long journey through the ocean. He had never owned anything before, never been given something just for the sake of it.

“It’s…it’s an apology,” she added quietly, her voice barely above a whisper now. “For, um… for before. For scaring you like that in the exam room and—”

Arthur tore his gaze away from the shell to look at her, catching the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She truly thought he might hold it against her. That the moment between them—the one that had sent his heart thundering and his instincts into a tangled mess—was something she had to atone for.

“I love it,” he interrupted softly, unwilling to let her finish that thought. She had nothing to apologize for. Nothing.

The words came easier than he expected, and they made something in her shoulders loosen, the tension easing just slightly.

Slowly, his webbed fingers brushed over her palm as he took the shell from her grasp. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, something primal stirring deep in his belly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let himself feel it—the warmth of her skin, the way her fingers lingered for just a second too long before retreating.

He turned the shell over between his fingers, letting the weight of it settle not just in his hand, but in his chest. It was small, fragile, and yet it carried something monumental with it.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice lower now, rough with something unspoken and thick with gratitude, “you didn’t have to do this.” 

“I know,” she admitted, offering a small, sheepish smile. “But I wanted to.”

Arthur’s hearts skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to blur. The weight of her words hung between them, heavier than anything he had ever carried. Her smile, soft and unguarded, spoke volumes—more than she could ever know. She wanted to, despite all the doubts he had harbored, all the insecurities that clung to him like barnacles on the rocks.

Swallowing hard, Arthur felt something shift inside of him, something raw and vulnerable that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. A flicker of hope, fragile and fleeting, lit up in the hollow of his chest. 

It wasn’t just about the shell. It wasn’t about the touch or the words exchanged. It was about this. About the connection between them that pulsed beneath the surface, deep and undeniable.

He inhaled deeply, letting the warmth of her gaze wash over him. His gills flared, absorbing her presence, her scent, the reassurance that she wasn’t pulling away from him. Not now.

This was only the beginning. 

A quiet resolve filled him as the uncertainty from earlier began to dissipate. He would be patient, slow, and gentle with her. She had given him a treasure—something so simple, yet so profound—that he knew he would cherish it for all his days.

But it was also so much more than just a gift; it was an invitation to come closer, to explore a bond that transcended words. That went beyond the difference in their species.

Perhaps this really was courting. 

The realization settled like a stone in his gut, and though the idea was foreign, even terrifying in its vulnerability, something in him recognized the truth of it. Instinct and longing swirled together, creating a fire inside him that would not be easily extinguished.

What a wonderful feeling it is to be wanted. 

And that thought—that simple, quiet truth—was enough to keep his head above the waves.

AN: Arthur honey, you've got a big storm coming. Some old familiar faces are gonna make an appearance in ch 6, can't wait to share their role with you guys!

Oh! And here’s the abalone shell if anyone was wondering :)

[vettelsvee]

COME WHAT MAY | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PROLOGUE: A PHONE CALL AND A NEW BEGINNING [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Red Bull intern & Webber girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Sebastian breaks up with Hanna and Y/N, his best friend, offers him to go to her hometown to try disconnect from everything. However, things take a turn for the worst when Mark Webber, Seb's teammate and Y/N's boyfriend, calls her and starts thinking she's cheating on him with Vettel.

WORD COUNT: 7337

WARNINGS: Angst, curse words and bad language, such a toxic Mark Webber, mentions of death, cancer and suicide

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri @03071987 [feel free to join the taglist!]

VEE'S NOTES: I absolutely adored writing this, so I hope you like it reading too! If so, feel free to comment me your thoughts, as well as rebloging it since I'd appreciate that a lot! Thank you so much for reading in advance <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Linz, Austria January 15th, 2010

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the journal he had given you for your twenty-first birthday, which had served as your therapy ever since, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with an energy you hadn’t felt in a long time and cheerfully walked over to your desk. You carefully moved aside the scattered notes you still hadn’t put away despite the semester ending two weeks ago and made sure everything looked as presentable as possible. Your straightened hair fell over your shoulders, though your bangs needed a little fixing, nothing you couldn’t adjust with your fingers. You also applied some lip balm, more to add a bit of shine than to keep your lips hydrated. Lastly, you adjusted your clothes as best as you could, trying to relax as much as possible and, most importantly, remind yourself that he would be more than happy to see you, no matter how you looked.  

You knew that Sebastian Vettel was just your best friend, but in some way, you always tried to appear as perfect as possible before him to show you were worthy of his friendship.  

You knew that, no matter how much Sebastian had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern while he was already a driver, he was better than you in every way.  

The door suddenly opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and revealing your two younger sisters peeking through the gap.  

“Why are you taking so long?” Amelie, 15, inquired. “It’s not like your boyfriend just arrived…”

“Yeah, yeah! Why are you getting all pretty?” The youngest, Louisa, 8, chimed in. “Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He’s talking to dad and uncle Hans about football, and I’m so bored…”

“Shut up you idiot,” Amelie responded, giving her a light shoulder tap. “Don’t listen to her,” she turned to you. “What they’re actually doing is grilling Sebastian about why he’s here today and, more importantly, why he’s staying with us for a few days.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. As far as you could remember, Seb hadn’t mentioned anything about staying over.  

“What do you mean, staying with us? Seb said that?”

“Uncle Hans thinks he’s just a friend, but dad believes you’re sleeping with him while also sleeping with Mark,” Amelie retorted.  

“How the hell would I be sleeping with Seb?!” you shouted, making your sisters step inside the room and slamming the door shut. “That’s… ridiculous, that’s what it is,” you added, trying your best not to curse.  

“But if dad says it, it must be true, Didi,” Louisa replied, a bit annoyed. “You know dad never lies to us.”

“Listen to me, both of you,” you cut them off. “I need you to behave and promise me something.”

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at you.  

“I don’t want you to mention Mark in front of Seb. No jokes, no side comments about how much you dislike him… nothing. Got it?”  

“Why can’t I tell Seb I don’t like Mark if it’s the truth? Do I have to lie to him?” Louisa asked with her characteristic innocence. “I like Seb a lot, and I don’t want to lie to him…”

“Because…”

“If you’re hesitating that much it must be because you really are sleeping with Seb.”

“Amelie, shut it! Lou’s here!” you scolded, glancing at Louisa.  

“What does sleeping with mean? Does it mean you’re dating?” Louisa asked, looking at you one again with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

“Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, okay?”

Your statement left your younger sisters stunned. Louisa had liked Hanna quite a bit, and she had always been nice to her whenever they met. Amelie, on the other hand, even though she had liked the German woman, started wondering why that same German, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend, had suddenly broken up with her.  

“Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and give them a convincing answer, even though you didn’t have one herself.  

“Yeah, Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore,” you replied as calmly as possible. “Don’t ask why because he didn’t give me many details other than, well… that he needed a break.”

“Does Mark know about this not-so-surprise visit?” Amelie asked, crossing her arms.  

Your heart skipped a beat. If there was one thing you hated about your middle sister, it was how nosy she was for a 15-year-old. If she was like this now, you didn’t even want to imagine what she’d be like in a few years.  

“Not everything revolves around Mark, Ame,” you brushed off the question because you didn’t know how to answer that no, your boyfriend had no idea about this visit, which you were more than thrilled about. “Seb is my best friend, and he’s going through a lot. And do you know what good friends do in bad times? They’re there for each other.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…” Amelie replied, unconvinced.  

Louisa, who was about to say how happy she was that Vettel was there with them and how much she preferred him over Webber as your boyfriend, was interrupted by their father’s deep voice calling from downstairs:  

“Y/N Y/L/N, get down here! Your guest is tired of waiting!”

You quickly checked your reflection one last time, grabbed your phone, and, before opening the door, turned to your sisters with a stern look:  

“You two,” you pointed at them, “no jokes today. Not a word about Mark or anything related to him.”

The youngest nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly as she headed for the stairs. Amelie, however, simply shrugged and smirked mischievously.  

“I’ll think about it,” she said before following Lou down the stairs.  

“Amelie!” you hissed under your breath.  

“Fine, fine. I promise…”

Rolling your eyes, you made one final check to ensure you looked perfect before stepping out. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you descended the stairs. You tried to push aside any thoughts that could make your reunion with Sebastian awkward, or let your nerves get the best of you.

However, everything seemed to go to hell the moment your eyes landed on the German.  

Sebastian was there, chatting animatedly with your aunt, Johanna, who was chopping vegetables. You were taken aback to see him with his sweater sleeves rolled up, still wearing his Red Bull beanie, as he carefully cut something.  

Afraid your friend might catch your staring, you quickly glanced at the dining table, where your father and uncle were still engrossed in the football discussion Lou had mentioned. Your sisters were at the other end of the living room, turning on the Wii console, likely to start a game of Mario Kart and try to get Seb to join them.  

You looked back at the driver the moment you heard him laugh, probably at something your aunt had said. He looked so natural, so comfortable, as if he truly belonged in your family. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, nearly three months ago, but you suddenly felt a strange sensation in your stomach, similar to the anxiety you got during exams, but for an entirely different reason.  

The more you observed him, the more you noticed how tired he looked. How… sad he seemed. And somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, that made you feel absolutely awful.

Or perhaps you were beginning to admit what you had never acknowledged to yourself in order not to ruin the friendship you had always needed but never truly had.

“Ah, Y/N! Look who I put to work. He’s better than me at cutting onions. You should tell Seb to come visit us more often, so he can help me when your sisters don’t want to.”

Seb turned at the mention of his name. The smile he had missed so much appeared on his face the moment he saw you. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you at an incredible speed and, without a word, embraced you.  

You remained still for a few seconds, surprised and unsure of what to do. The contact completely unsettled you, but as soon as he started stroking your hair, you relaxed and returned the hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and pulling him closer.  

“You don’t even have an idea of how much I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head.  

“I missed you too.” 

And you have no idea how much, you thought, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.  

Why did your entire being seem to change, becoming something so complicated and inexplicable, whenever he was near?  

If only he knew what that farewell at the last Grand Prix of the season had meant to you…  

When you pulled apart, the driver studied your face carefully. There was something about you that felt a bit unfamiliar… different. He couldn’t tell if it was your hair, a little shorter since the last time he saw you; the dark circles under your eyes, more pronounced than they should have been after three weeks of vacation before starting your final university semester; or the evident weight loss.  

“I really wanted to see you again,” he forced himself to say instead of asking what had happened to you to make you look so… different.  

You forced a small smile and lowered your gaze, embarrassed by not knowing what else to say. You had thought of telling him that he looked great, because, in your eyes, he always did, but decided against it, considering the reason he had come to visit.  

“So they put you to work, huh?” you finally said, gesturing toward your aunt, who was watching them while continuing to prepare dinner.  

“Not really. I volunteered,” Seb replied with a smile. Johanna was about to say something, but the young man interrupted her. “It’s the least I could do after you let me stay here for a few days.” 

You swallowed hard. You were more than happy to have your friend stay with your family for a few days, but… why couldn’t you remember anything about that conversation?  

“And let me tell you, he’s an excellent volunteer. If only Mark were more like…” 

“You don’t have to treat him like royalty, Johanna,” you cut off your aunt before she could say more. Seb blushed and started nervously playing with his hands. “He’s just…”

“Yes, I know, your friend,” the woman replied, apologizing to you with a glance. “But, as your friend, he is also our guest, and he deserves the best. Besides, he doesn’t complain about my excellent taste in music, unlike someone I know…” She added, glancing sideways at her husband.  

Seb chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter without breaking eye contact with you.  

“At least it’s better than those weird songs Ricciardo used to play when we were at Toro Rosso. Do you remember when he got obsessed with playing Nessun Dorma before every race?”  

“Oh God, don’t remind me. I love classical music, but I still have nightmares about that.”

You both laughed at the memory of the year you met, when you had become each other’s biggest support. Everything had changed, perhaps too much, in those short two years, but what mattered most was that you still had each other, no matter what.  

At least, for now.

You tried to step a little closer to Sebastian, but the sound of your father dragging his chair and moving toward you made you step back shyly.  

“Well then… what’s the plan, Vettel? Are you staying here for a few days?”

Seb nodded nervously at Bernhard’s question. Even though he knew your father well and had met him countless times, he always felt nervous whenever they shared the same space, especially when they had a conversation.  

“Well… yes. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he quickly added, stepping closer to the older man. “I needed to get away from Switzerland for a bit, and even more from Heppenheim… to clear my head. And, to be honest, there’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with.”

His gaze shifted to you, who were trying to process his words. You kept glancing nervously between Bernhard and Sebastian, afraid one of them might say something inappropriate.  

“Of course, kid,” your father finally answered, giving Seb a pat on the back. “You know you’re more than welcome here. Hell, I should pay you extra for taking such good care of my little girl when you’re away!”

“Dad…”  

“I do it gladly, Bernhard. I’ve already told her, but in case she’s forgotten, let me say it again: I love spending time with Y/N.”

You lowered her gaze, embarrassed by all the attention you were receiving, and especially by the scene unfolding before you. You didn’t need to look up to know that Seb had his eyes on her, just like your father. You also knew that your aunt was probably muttering some comparison between your best friend and your boyfriend, and that your uncle would soon join in.  

Sebastian took a chance and, while continuing to talk with Bernhard who, due to his worsening health, had quickly taken a seat on one of the dining island stools, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.  

To their surprise, no one objected.  

“Uh… Dad?” you spoke up, your voice small and hesitant as you carefully removed Seb’s arm and leaned over the kitchen island.  

“Something wrong?”

“Would you mind if… if Seb and I went for a walk?” You asked timidly. “And would it be okay if we had dinner out?” You added, this time addressing your aunt.  

Johanna set down what she was doing and turned to you. She narrowed her eyes slightly, inspecting the pair of friends. Then, she placed the knife on the cutting board and turned to you with a smile.  

“Why are you asking me? You’re twenty-one, almost twenty-two, sweetheart,” she answered, now turning to Bernhard, who agreed with his sister-in-law. “You don’t need our permission to go out, Y/N.”

You opened her mouth to respond but immediately closed it again. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, standing out even more against your now pale skin. You stared straight ahead, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater to avoid saying anything inappropriate again.  

To hide the fact that your insecurity and discomfort had, in some way, worsened since certain events with a certain person.  

“I think Y/N just wanted to check in case you were making extra food for dinner, Johanna,” Seb intervened. You met his gaze, silently thanking him for stepping in. “But if you’re worried about anything,” or Y/N, he thought to himself, “I promise to bring her back at a reasonable hour, safe and happy.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard exchanged knowing looks, probably misinterpreting the German’s words, as they suddenly started chuckling.  

“Don’t even think about setting a curfew for my girl, Vettel. You’re a Formula 1 driver, and my daughter is six months away from graduating university. You’re both adults, for God’s sake!” Bernhard laughed, trying to keep a straight face.  

“We just don’t want you getting into trouble,” your uncle added. “I’m a lawyer, but I wouldn’t want you two as clients, especially not for free.”

Sebastian widened his eyes, unsure how to take the comment. You, on the other hand, just tried not to die of embarrassment, silently praying that the German was taking everything in stride.  

“Not to doubt you two, but, you know… trust is a dangerous thing.”

You can say that again, you thought, remembering the man twelve years older than you who, during your entire winter break, had barely reached out more than twice with phone calls that didn’t even last five minutes.

"Well, I think it's best if we start heading out," Seb commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, taking your hand while waving goodbye to your family with the other. "We won't be late, I swear!"

Your sisters said their reluctant goodbyes, thinking the German was going to play with them. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard started making bets about what would really happen between the two of you that night.

Johanna was the only one who walked you to the door, carefully adjusting your coats, scarves, and hats as if she was your mother.

"Have fun, you two, you deserve it. And you, Seb, don't think you’re getting out of helping me tomorrow. You still have to teach me that lemon cake recipe you always say your mother makes."

"Don’t worry, Johanna," Seb replied while holding the door open for you. "I’m saving my morning for you and your cooking sessions."

The woman smiled, delighted to have the German around, and said goodbye to you once more.

As soon as you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your faces. You took a moment to inhale and exhale, relaxing and feeling, for the first time in a long while, free. More than anything, you felt like yourself. Seb walked beside you, unable to stop smiling, grateful to be in his best friend’s hometown, with you by his side, helping him get through the rough patch caused by his breakup with Hanna.

"Do you always blush that much around your family, or is it just when you have company?" Seb asked after a while, nudging you playfully with his shoulder while keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Don't start with that, Seb! You know I can be a little shy sometimes..."

"It's okay, I already knew that," he interrupted. "I think it's really cute when you blush."

"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know that?" you shot back, playfully.

"I know, but you love me anyway."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. One you couldn’t argue with because she completely agreed.

And that, more than comforting you, made you worry more and more about your relationship.

Despite the recent snowfall, the streets of Linz were busier than you had expected. The ice-skating rinks were packed, and to your surprise, the winter market stalls, forming a kind of fair that attracted people of all ages almost daily and which you loved visiting, were overflowing with people.

Although taking Seb there had been your original plan for his first day, you had decided to do something more intimate with him instead, something you hadn’t done in a long time, not even with Mark. However, you knew your relationship with the German was special enough to share something so personal with him without regretting it afterward.

"Since this is the first time you’ve come to visit me, I’ve put together a little tour so you can really get to know my city," you explained, looking at him. "That way, when you leave, you’ll know Linz as well as I do. And maybe, if one day you bring someone here..."

"You’re going to show me what tourists don’t usually get to see, aren’t you?" he interrupted. "I mean… promise me you’ll show me every last little corner, even the ones way out on the city outskirts. That could really come in handy someday."

"No problem. I’ll show you everything you want," you replied, flashing him a proud smile.

He laughed at your comment. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he awkwardly brushed his right hand against your left one. You blushed and tried to move it away, but Seb didn’t let you, he ended up taking your hand, not caring that you were just friends and that you had a boyfriend.

Because you were just that, friends. No matter how much he wanted it, he could never, in his life, date someone like you. Because while Mark was already a man with a clear path and a well-established career, he was just a twenty-something still learning from every mistake he made.

With your hands still intertwined, Sebastian’s gaze roamed the streets, the people, and the buildings surrounding them.

"This place is beautiful, and peaceful in its own way despite the bustle. I can see why you love it so much..."

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat speed up. Linz wasn’t the best city in the world, nor did it hold many good memories for you since your mother’s suicide and your sudden move to Spain. But, at the end of the day, it was your home, and hearing him appreciate it meant more to you than you could ever admit.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, stopping every so often so you could point out your old school, your university, and even your favorite café, the one you used to go to when studying at your aunt and uncle’s house became too chaotic.

However, just as you were nearing the place you wanted to take Seb, he broke the silence with a question that, while not entirely unexpected, was the last thing she thought he would ask.

"How are things with Mark?"

The casual question made you slow your pace slightly before quickly recovering and catching up with Sebastian.

"They’re… fine," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, the usual. He’s in London, I’m here, we call each other..."

Don’t lie to him, Y/N.

"And does that make you happy?"

"Yes, of course."

You wanted to tell Seb the truth, but you couldn’t.

This time, he was the one who needed support, not to listen to complaints and tears about a relationship with a questionable age gap and an even more questionable dynamic.

"And how are you doing after everything with Hanna?" you asked, changing the subject and hoping you hadn’t overstepped. "Ever since you called to tell me what happened, I’ve been worried, but I didn’t want to push..."

Seb’s expression darkened slightly. He let out a sigh that you were sure he had been holding in longer than he would’ve liked, staring straight ahead as you walked.

"We’re okay. I’m okay," he corrected himself. "Nothing weird happened or anything, it’s just that…" he trailed off, possibly choosing his words carefully before continuing. "We ended things amicably, you know? No hard feelings, no fights, nothing like that."

"Well, I’m glad to hear that," you replied, choosing your words carefully as well. "It caught me completely off guard because… I don’t know, it seemed like everything was fine. You two were together for three years…"

"Yeah, three pretty good years, but I think we realized we were only staying together because we were comfortable, because it was our routine, not because we actually loved each other." He paused, looking at you. "She never said it, and neither did I, but I get the feeling we wanted completely different things in life, and that was hurting us, even if we didn’t mean to."

"And that makes it even harder..."

"Exactly," he admitted, giving you a bittersweet smile. "But I feel like it was the right decision for both of us. It’s just that… making such a risky choice after thinking about it for so long, and wanting to do the right thing, is tough. Honestly, right now, being alone again is really difficult, but I guess it’s just a matter of time before I get used to it."

You didn’t know what to say, and you had no clue what deeper meaning lay behind Sebastian’s words.

"You won’t be alone, Seb," you managed to say, trying not to get nervous. "You have me."

He looked at you, his body relaxing slightly as your steps fell back into rhythm.

"I know. And, even if you don’t believe it, that means much more to me than you can imagine."

For a moment, nothing and no one else existed, just you. You stared at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, as thoughts raced through your minds. Thoughts that, if spoken aloud, would haunt them for the rest of your lives, shattering everything you knew and had between you.

It wasn’t until you cleared your throat and quickened your pace that the moment broke.

"Come on, we’re almost there. I have a reservation at seven, and I don’t want us to be late."

"Wherever you say, my dear tour guide," Seb replied.

After walking for a few more minutes, you stopped in front of a restaurant tucked away in a small alley. Sonnengarten, garden of the sun in German, was written at the top of the façade, painted in a warm yellow color. Along with the soft lights illuminating it directly and the hanging flower baskets, it invited people to step inside. The instrumental music playing, what seemed to be rock from the '60s and '70s, was the cherry on top.  

“Well, here we are,” you said, visibly excited as she entered the restaurant.  

Seb watched you, noticing the special sparkle in your eyes.  

“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s obvious this place means a lot to you.”  

“It does,” you nodded, a small smile on your lips. “My mother used to bring us here every weekend. We always switched up our orders because, well, we loved, and still love, trying new things, but my dad always ordered a schnitzel,” you explained with excitement. That only made Seb feel even more grateful that you had brought him to such a special place. “My sisters and I would always try to convince him to try something different and share some of our food, but he always refused and made up some silly excuse.”  

“So, this is like… a sacred place for you, right?”  

“Yes, very much so. But since my mom passed away, we haven’t come back. Actually, this is the first time in years that I’ve come here to eat…”  

Your statement made Seb’s chest tighten. He knew how Rosalie, your mother, had died nearly eight years ago. He was fully aware of the impact it had on your life, which was precisely why he was more than grateful that you were sharing this detail, this part of your life, this seemingly important family tradition, with him.  

His friend. His best friend.  

“Really, Y/N, thank you for bringing me here,” the driver said sincerely.  

Before you could respond, a middle-aged man appeared in front of you. He quickly approached you and hugged you, a gesture you gladly accepted.  

“My dear Miss Y/L/N! It’s been so long, little one! You finally decided to come eat here again… it was about time!”  

“I’m really happy to be back as a customer, Matthias,” you replied kindly.  

The man’s eyes shifted to Sebastian, whom he openly scanned from head to toe. Once he recognized him, his eyes widened. After all, it was widely known in the city that Y/N Y/L/N was not only an intern for one of the most successful Formula 1 teams of the past year but also lucky enough to be working with one of the sport’s rising stars.  

“Well, well, Sebastian Vettel!” the man exclaimed excitedly, offering his hand to the German, who shook it with a smile. “Are you two dating?” he asked curiously.  

“No, no! He’s just a good friend of mine,” you said quickly, avoiding Seb’s gaze. “My… boyfriend,” you managed to say, barely containing youR embarrassment, “is the other Red Bull driver, Mark Webber.”  

“Oh, well, no problem!” Matthias laughed heartily, giving Seb a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Any friend of our Y/N is a friend of ours. Now, come on, I’ll take you to the Y/L/N family table. I’ve been reserving it since Y/N told me she was coming.”  

Sebastian observed you as the waiter led you to a table in a corner by a large window. You simply shrugged and smiled, feeling proud to see how happy and, most importantly, how at ease the boy seemed.  

You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and special at the same time when, before you could sit down, Seb pulled out the chair for you and pushed it in gently once you were seated.  

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’ll be back in a bit with the dishes I know are your favorites. Enjoy your evening.”  

The waiter winked at you and, once he was far enough away, you buried your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed by the scene you had just lived through.  

“Oh god… I can’t believe he thought we were together,” you murmured. “Everyone here knows I’m with Mark…”  

“Well, maybe they think we’d make a good couple.”  

Seb laughed at his own comment, and you shot him a death glare, though it didn’t last long as the corner of your lips curved into a smile.  

“Don’t start with that too.”  

“I’m just joking, Y/N,” Vettel said with a satisfied grin. “Besides, if people think we’re together and we get, I don’t know, good tables like this one,” he pointed at their spot, “and free pastries like the ones the bakery lady gave me near your house today, I wouldn’t mind pretending we’re a couple.”  

You rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth that bloomed inside you as you imagined a hypothetical situation where you and Seb were together, where you shared more than just friendship.  

“Well, I think it’s time we have a slightly more serious conversation, so no boyfriends, exes, or fake relationships,” you said as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s the plan for this year? Do you think you can win the championship?”  

“That’s the goal, my dear," he chuckled, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “For now, I think the car is good, and we have a strong team, but you know how things can go…”  

“The important thing is that you have what it takes, Seb: talent and ambition.”  

He smiled, a little shy at your compliment, and adjusted himself in his seat.  

“So, you better be ready to put up with me every time you win,” you continued playfully.  

“Only if you ditch Mark so we can celebrate properly.”  

Sebastian immediately realized he might have messed up with that comment.  

You, instead of responding, did your best to force a smile and act like you hadn’t heard what the German had just said.  

“By the way…” the driver spoke carefully, knowing he might be treading on dangerous ground. “When are we going to plan something? I came here, but you know… plans like we used to make when we were at Toro Rosso and before you started dating Mark…”  

You didn’t know what to say. You hesitated before answering, thinking about how things had changed since you were single and he was in a relationship with Hanna, who had always been wonderful to you and never minded Sebastian and you hanging out together. She had even tagged along on some of their outings, something that made you feel terribly guilty but, at the same time, too bad to refuse given how kind both of them were to you.  

“I don’t know, Seb. Things are… complicated, different… It’s nothing you don’t already know.”  

It’s obvious there are things Seb doesn’t know. Don’t fool yourself.  

“Well, we’ll come up with something,” he replied, trying to believe his own words. “We could go out after a race, grab something to eat… Or, I don’t know, during the summer break I could take you to the karting track where I used to go as a kid and see Michael…”  

You couldn’t keep listening because it hurt. The idea of doing such personal and meaningful things with Sebastian was difficult to process, especially considering you were dating Mark, and no matter how much you tried to talk to him about it, he wouldn’t take it well. You didn’t deserve that kind of attention, even though it was the only way someone had ever shown her… affection, love, or any of its variations. Mark had barely paid you any attention since you started dating, something you had noticed in other couples but had never experienced yourself.  

Seb kept talking, but the sound of your phone ringing, a childish melody set by his sister Louisa, snapped you back to reality.  

Your heart clenched when you saw Mark’s name on the screen.  

Your stomach twisted, anxiety creeping in, the weight of everything you hadn’t told anyone, not even Seb, suddenly pressing down on you again, returning in full force as if it had never left, not even when Webber seemed to have forgotten about you.  

“Are you going to answer?” Seb asked, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how doubtful you were.

You didn't move. You couldn't. You weren't ready to face a call from your boyfriend after weeks of not hearing from him, especially not in the situation you were in.

And even less so considering who you were spending time with at that moment, and how stubborn Mark had been about your relationship with Sebastian ever since you started dating, even knowing that you were, in reality, just very good friends.

“It’s just… It’s Mark,” was all you could whisper.

“And are you just going to let it ring? Come on, Y/N, he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like he’s going to kill you if you answer.”

“I’ll call him when we get home,” you swallowed hard, feeling your hands starting to sweat.

“Y/N,” Seb said, sounding more authoritative than he would have liked. “It’s just a call. What’s the worst that could happen?”

If only you knew...

“Come on, Y/N, pick it up. If he's calling, it must be important.”

Your fingers trembled slightly until you finally decided to press the answer button.

You forced a smile, even though the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was cry and tell Sebastian the whole truth. Instead, you put the phone to your ear and answered, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“Hello, Mark…”

“Damn, it’s about time you answered. Do you mind telling me where you are? I’ve been trying to reach you for days and days, and you’ve just ignored me.”

It’s a lie, Y/N. He hasn’t called. He’s manipulating you because, once again, he’s forgotten about you...

“I’m out,” you replied, controlling everything you said while looking at Seb, who had started talking with Matthias. “I’m having dinner.”

“And who exactly are you with?” Mark asked disparagingly, totally suspicious of you.

You gripped the phone tightly and opened your mouth to respond with the first excuse that came to your mind. But before you could, Matthias started talking too loudly with your companion:

“You’re such a gentleman with our Y/N, Sebastian! Are you sure you’re just friends?”

“Just friends, Matthias, really,” Seb replied cheerfully, although alert to you, who seemed terrified.

“Sebastian? What exact Sebastian, Y/N?”

Your blood ran cold when you heard the aggressive tone Mark was using on the other end of the phone.

“Mark, it’s not what you think…”

“Who the fuck are you with, Y/N?” Mark exploded. Even Sebastian and Matthias, who were still talking, seemed to hear the yelling coming from the phone. “Are you with Sebastian Vettel? Is it the Sebastian Vettel I’m imagining?”

“Mark, please, let me explain…”

“Explain what?” the Australian's voice started getting louder and angrier. “That you went out to dinner with him as if that was the most normal thing in the world?”

Seb, noticing the sudden change in you, both in your mood and body language, became alert. He turned his attention back to the waiter, this time giving an excuse after he placed all the plates on their table so that he could leave and give you some privacy.

Your tense posture and the fact that you became so silent, just listening to what his teammate was saying on the other side of the line, didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he knew there was more between them than what his friend wanted him to know.

“Take good care of her, Sebastian. Y/N deserves the best.”

Seb smiled kindly at Matthias’s words, and his eyes followed him until he was far enough away. His eyes then returned to you.

Something wasn’t right, and it was creating a feeling of internal rage in Seb that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Mark, I’ll call you when I get home, okay? I don’t want…”

“So you’re with him, right?” the Australian spat, not letting her finish. “Sebastian Vettel... Out of all the damn people you could be with, you’re with him…”

“Mark, please… Let me explain…” You started, your words already bordering on pleading.

“Think about the kind of girlfriend you are, Y/N,” his voice, though calm now, you knew he was about to start throwing poisoned darts that would torment you in the weeks to come. “While I’m busting my ass working, training, doing everything I can to move the damn team forward, you’re out there with the guy you claim is your best friend, going on dates. How would you feel if it were the other way around, Y/N?”

“It’s not what you think,” you whispered, unable to control the tremor in your voice.

“Oh really? Then what is it? Because to me, it looks like you're acting with another man the way you should be acting with your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?”

Don’t believe his words, Y/N... He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your fault just because he’s ignored you for almost a month...

“Mark, he’s my best friend, and you’ve known that since before we started dating. I haven’t hidden it from you, just like I’m not hiding anything from you now.”

Sebastian, paying close attention to every word from you, felt his heart drop at what you had said, especially the tone you used.

You mattered to Sebastian, just as he mattered to you.

“I wouldn’t take a girl to the city I grew up in if she was just my best friend, leaving my girlfriend feeling like second best, but hey, to each their own…”

You sighed, unable to stop looking at Seb, hurt by the words Mark had just said, even though you convinced yourself, despite knowing you were lying to yourself, that the Australian cared about you enough to consider you a girlfriend.

Oh my God, Y/N, you haven’t even met his parents yet…

“You’re being unfair,” was all you could say.

“No, if anyone’s being unfair here, it’s you, Y/N,” replied Mark. “You’re selfish, and you think of no one but yourself.”

“I don’t want to keep talking about this, Mark…”

“Of course you don’t. Because you don’t want Seb to know what you’re really like,” Webber said harshly. “Maybe I should tell him myself. Do you think he’d believe me? Would he still want a bitch like you if he knew the real you?”

Your stomach dropped at what Mark had just said. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t know how to contradict him because you knew it was impossible to make him think otherwise.

The worst part? Sebastian’s face went completely pale, which made you worry even more about what your friend might now think of you.

Without saying anything else, and while you still faintly heard the Australian’s reproaches, you ended the call, throwing the phone harshly on the table and unable to control your hands, which were shaking more and more.

“Y/N…” Seb spoke, unsure of how to approach the conversation he wanted to have with you about what had just happened.

“It’s... It doesn’t matter,” you corrected yourself. The last thing you wanted was for that heated conversation you had had with Mark to ruin your time with Seb, especially your stay with the German. “Let’s eat and let everything else rest, okay? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and I don’t want to ruin it because of a conversation that never should have happened.”

Seb didn’t seem entirely convinced by your words, and even less by your attitude. He knew you were broken inside at that moment, and nothing hurt him more than knowing he didn’t know how to help you.

“Y/N, if something’s wrong... you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You tried to force a smile again, but it was impossible. Instead, tears began to fall from your eyes, and no matter how hard you tried to control them, you couldn’t.

“It’s okay, Seb, it’s nothing. I swear.”

Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to him.

“Really, Y/N... No matter what you need or when you need it, I’ll be here... You’re not alone, Y/N, okay? Come what may.”

You looked at your hands, now in Seb’s. His thumb was calmly rubbing over them, something Seb knew perfectly well relaxed you when you had anxiety, like now, when you felt on the edge of a panic attack; or at least, that’s what the constant feeling of suffocation you couldn’t shake off told you, no matter how hard you tried to control your breathing and especially promise yourself that everything would be fine.

Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N, Mark’s voice echoed in your head in such a scene, making you pull your hands from the table and hide them beneath it, embarrassed.

Sebastian sighed, knowing he wouldn’t stop trying to help you, no matter how reluctant you were. If you wanted to end the contact, so be it, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make sure you were okay.

“I mean it, Y/N,” the guy insisted. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You’re my best friend, and best friends are there to support each other. Just like you’re doing now, with me, with Hanna,” he added.

You looked up at him again, and your chest tightened. How could he be so noble with you? How was he able to say the words you needed to hear at every moment? With Mark, you felt small, as if you didn’t matter at all, but Seb... he made you feel like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, whose ending was still to be written.

“Thank you, Seb,” you murmured, unable to take your eyes off those blue eyes that so relaxed you. “For… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. That’s what friends are for.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that, unlike your boyfriend, if you even were, or ever had been, someone could care about you. You didn’t want to give your best friend false hopes, but the way he treated you, how it seemed like he cared...

Why did Seb make you feel like the most special person in the world when the person who was supposed to care about you the most didn’t even bother to try?

Sebastian Vettel knew you like the back of his hand, and that was exactly what scared you the most.

[sgiandubh]

The point is no one knows how many he or any these big accounts actually does have. This type of behavior aligns with the FACT he is not as popular as you all want him to be and explains why his engagement numbers are low and although he has 4M IG followers, you ask any random 100 people on the street in the US where his US based show is the most popular and not a one will have a clue who he is. He has about 250k fans and 25k fanatics. Not many to build a future career on and not many to hide some secret marriage, relationship to a co star who is legally married to someone else with one son.

Dear FACT Anon,

Brush up your grammar first, you begin your Orwellian Two Minutes Hate with another nonsense phrase: 'The point is no one knows how many he or any these big accounts actually does have.' This, you see, betrays you - enough said: your native language is a Germanic one, albeit not English and not German. Dutch, perhaps?

No one knows what, exactly? How many fans? How many followers? Quite different things indeed, and you surely know it: you logically still are a fan and show appreciation for what he does, even if you don't follow him on Instagram . You can't be that stupid as to presume all of his fans are just on Instagram, do you? Thus, how is some fluctuating index relevant in the great scheme of things? It is partial. It is segmented. It is easily explained by external factors, such as the ones I have described. Why you still cling to this cargo cult belief is just beyond me.

If S were Coca Cola and you were a hired consultant in charge of a global analysis of the brand, I would have fired you already. I don't care how the outlook is on the Ruritarian market only, the brief you would have gotten was to go global and come with the latest trends.

'you ask any random 100 people on the street in the US where his US based show is the most popular and not a one will have a clue who he is. He has about 250k fans and 25k fanatics.' Look at you talking, dear illiterate: 'not a one', when English has the very effective 'no one' or 'not a single one'. The rest comes from the spite and bile of a particular blogger, you all chose to snowball endlessly. It is wrong. It is strange. It is boring. I don't even know how you came up with these figures: instead of parroting whatever you have been told, kindly explain the method you used to reach them. Extrapolation has its limits and it is always used in order to artificially inflate, not deflate something at all costs. I see no point in entertaining this theory based on absolutely nothing.

But your point was not related to all of the above. All of the above was but a pretext for you to shove in your last phrase. I think you are in a very bad spot in your life, Anon. I'd seriously suggest to get help, at this point. You deserve better than this kind of ridiculous, pointless Internet joust.

[blackcatwriter]

in the blink of a crinkling eye (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: Here's a short lil blurb because I'm in my Arthur Morgan phase rn and still figuring out pt 2 of my other fic. Honestly, I tried my best to be historically accurate regarding the camera so if it's not that accurate I'm sorry 😭 ♥︎ thank you to my pookie for beta reading this one too! ♥︎ enjoy!

warnings: angst if you squint?, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions of reader (correct me if I'm wrong), use of nicknames, pretty much fluff

wc: 900

summary: You manage to get Arthur to come with you for a photograph of the two of you.

credit to @plum98 for the divider!

You had been begging Arthur the last few weeks to get your photograph taken together. He always managed to dodge your request, claiming “Sorry sweets, Sean and I are robbing some homestead”, or “Dutch has been on my ass ‘bout bringing in more money”, much to your disappointment. 

However, today was different. You somehow steered him out of camp with the excuse of “needing his gun expertise”, although he doubted Ms. Grimshaw had put you up to such a task. 

Once you conned him into taking you to town, you led him away from the gunsmith to a building that looked like it had nothing to do with what you were supposed to be doing. You had successfully fooled the cowboy into your schemes and walked through the door before he could say anything. Feeling obligated to follow after you, he did so. You had already begun introducing yourself to the photographer by the time he caught up. 

“Darlin’, why the hell are you so goddamn insistent on gettin’ this done?” He grunted lowly as the photographer readied his camera.  

“You get to draw me whenever you want in that journal of yours. I ain’t even got a quarter of your talent to draw you and I... I want to be able to look at you when you’re away on them missions of yours.” You sheepishly admitted, feeling yourself flush under his intense gaze. 

Coming to understand your reasoning, he realized you were right, when you first caught him drawing you, you had been self-conscious but grew to appreciate it. He would always be observant to capture all the little details about you. Whenever he was away doing whatever the hell it was that Uncle or Micah managed to drag him into, he’d open his journal and look back at the portraits he made of you.  

He’d look fondly at the time he drew you by campfire. You had been singing along to the tune of Javier’s guitar with the rest of the gang. There was another drawing of you when you had been learning how to read. Most of the time you hardly noticed when you were the subject of his art, but when you did there was a twinkle of delight in your eyes Arthur would make sure to capture. 

Now here you had been wanting the same—a memento of him to keep you sane whenever he was gone and you’d have no idea if he had been killed or captured. Taking this in, Arthur felt an immense guilt weighing on his shoulders. Arthur Morgan had been a complete asshole to you. 

“M’sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know it meant that much to ya’. Should’ve taken ya’ the first time ya’ asked.” He looked down to your feet apologetically, too embarrassed to meet your eyes.  

Shaking your head with a smile, you took his hand in yours and squeezed. “S’alright. We’re here now.” You pecked his cheek and walked over to where the photographer had stationed his camera. 

Arthur stood frozen in his place. You’d always been understanding to him—far more than he deserved at times. He’d always wondered when you’d finally come to your senses and leave him in the dust. 

He watched you stand in front of the camera and gesture for him to come with you. You were busy brushing the stray strands of hair that were in your face and fixed the collar of your blouse to sit nicely. 

In his eyes, you were perfect as in. Your hair had been tousled around by the wind from riding horseback and your blouse had stains from playing in the mud with Jack back at camp. You certainly didn’t look “picturesque” as society would deem it, you were dressed much too informally but Arthur adored how you looked. You looked like the truest version of yourself, the you that he had grown to love since you first joined the gang. 

He’d only dreaded the day that you saw the ugly bastard in him that he saw whenever he looked in a mirror. There was nothing special about him nor was he the most handsome fella around. Sure, he was useful when it came to intimidating people into paying off their debts to the gang, but who was looking to love a bully?  

“Come on, Arthur. We’re waiting on you.” You smiled at him.  

Little did he know you had already seen him for what he is. He was a good man at heart who did bad things to protect the people he loved. He had a long past of doing bad things, but so did you and you accepted him—all of him. Shaking off his nerves, Arthur made his way to your side and offered his arm. 

You happily accepted, beaming up at him with that one-of-a-kind smile of yours. He mirrored the love that shone in your eyes, not wanting to look away from you even as the man counted down. 

“Ah, I see you lovebirds were not paying attention. Let us try one more time!” The man placed your photograph to the side and counted down once more. 

This time both of you looked at the camera. Unable to fight your contagious energy, he let a small grin slip on his face. After the flash, while you went to happily collect the picture from the cameraman, Arthur took the first photo and folded it inside the breast pocket of his jacket.  

[princessimotep]

Hi love!!

Could you do John Marston relationship headcanons?

A/N: I wasn’t sure if you wanted pre-epilogue or post epilogue John so I did both! I’ve kept this vanilla as I never want to add spice when it’s not specifically requested.

Credits: Images are not mine! I found them on pinterest.

Pre-Epilogue

✨ John is hesitant in getting into a ‘relationship’ with you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he thinks it will complicate things. For almost his whole life he had grown up with the law on his back yet carefree with no fear of consequence. Arthur had always been there to get him out of trouble. Officially getting into a relationship with you would mean risks; facing consequences for his own actions. He would be tied to you, albeit not marriage, but the beginnings of something which could turn more serious. Arthur would word it as – John would have to actually think for himself – which secretly scares John.

✨ In the end, John agrees to making things more official between you both; only because the thought of you being with someone else makes him irritatingly jealous. Seeing Kieran talk to you about the horses, Charles saying hello to you, even Arthur just asking if you’re okay. Micah was where he drew the line. He didn’t trust him around you, even within the safety of the camp. John would keep you close, although he wouldn’t be very affectionate in the beginning. He’s awkward to first be around. He’ll walk over to where you’re sitting and plop down beside you in complete silence. No matter how much you try to talk to him, he won’t talk back – he’s too focused on guarding you. In the end, it takes some reassurance from you to make him realise that you’re stronger than you look and don’t need constant protection and surveillance. Especially from Micah. But you appreciate John’s worry all the same.

✨ The more John is around you, the more he begins to mature. You teach him things that even Dutch and Hosea could never think of. You have a unique way of making him see things in a different light. His perspective on things around him slowly changes. In the past he would look at the skyline and just see day and night. Now, he sees colour. The moon and stars. The rays of the setting sun. The importance of appreciating the present because there is no promise for tomorrow. From just being around you, the world is now a little more meaningful than aimless bloodshed and money. It’s a world that you live in and he wants you to live in it as long as possible.

Post Epilogue

✨ After Arthur’s sacrifice, John swears to give you the life you deserve. He admits he hasn’t been the best partner to you and that he will spend the rest of his life making it up to you. You stuck by him through the whole mess with Dutch. You let him live his outlaw life – the least he could do was let you live yours. He even asked you if you wanted him in your life, to which you responded “You stupid man, John Marston. Of course I do.” He’d smile to himself. “Yer’ too good for me, ya know that?”

✨ John begins to wear his heart on his sleeve for you. You didn’t even need to ask him to. Whenever you’re quiet, he will now sit beside you and talk to you. Even if you say you don’t want to talk, he will gently grab your chin to make you look at him and softly explain that he’s not leaving you until you let him know what’s troubling you. He may not be a good listener, even impatient at times, but he’s a doer and will actively try to do things that will help solve the situation. Did someone talk to you nasty? He’ll be having a few words with them. You missing his company? He’ll spend the rest of the night holding you close to his chest. You feeling sick? He’ll be being every tonic and bitters from the doctors, along with your favourite food from the general store. John will even bring back a basket of apples. “What’s this, John?” “Apples. ‘Supposed to keep the doctor away… or somethin’…”

✨ This cowboy will insist on taking you out on the weekends. Even if you insist you just want to spend some alone time with him, he’ll remind you that a lady such as yourself should be experiencing the best things in life, even if the time period contradicted this. If he can help it, he will accompany you to do the things you have always wanted to do. You want to travel overseas? He’ll find a boat unlike Dutch. You want to dress up pretty and go to a ball? He’ll be right by your side in a suit and rent a hotel room nearby so you could drink as much alcohol as you wanted and not worry about the journey back. Or at least not worry about getting John back. Most drunken nights involved John leaning against you as you walked him back to his bed. You want to see the fantastic views the world has to offer? John will have you seated on his horse, Rachel, and will take you to those places himself. He doesn’t care the distance – he will go as far as he needs for your eyes to see those wondrous views. All these things are worth doing to him because it means he gets to see you happy. He made a vow to Arthur to live his life and he would make sure to do that, as long as it involved you living yours.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

alrighty

the verstannie in me: LESSGOOOOO MAXXXXX THE FUCKING DUTCH NATIONAL ANTHEM AGAIN WOOOHOOO

the was a fucking masterclass, going from 17 to 1, motherfucker, that was sooooooo good! i’m sooooo fucking proud of himmm‼️‼️‼️

the landolover in me: fuckkkk this is basically the end of the championship, tho, it was a good fight, and i’m proud of the drivers.

ALPINE 2-3 I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING WTF THAT WAS SO WELL DONE GOOD JOB BOYS

russell, leclerc were also good. i loved the overtake that lando did on russell.

lando. oh my love. what the fuck was that race. what the fuck was the pre-race. i’m so mad at mclaren and their strategies, and im just so exhausted. as a lando fan, i can agree that he made some mistakes, but my man’s gonna bounce back in las vegas ‼️

oscar, thank you for the team help. you are appreciated in this house. i love you sm.

to all those who are out, man, i feel sorry for them. they were driving good.

(it’s also hilarious to me how quick the commentators change their opinion on the drivers.)

now, i will be staying away from the internet, because im too exhausted to see people shit talking lando. none of the drivers deserve hate, but people don’t have any way to remove their frustration. it’s bs, but it’s not in my control 🤷‍♀️

[orphicrose]

Ok so i just saw your Hosea x child reader and it was amazing (obviously) now I'm wondering if you could do Hosea x reader who's an old friend. The reader has a somewhat stable life, used to be a doctor but moved to a small cot in the mountains. They kinda keep in contact via letters but not really that often because the reader isn't too keen to gi into town and send out mail. What if Hosea has to introduce the reader to the gang at some point, like what if they are on the run again so Hosea leads them up the mountain onto the reader's property to kinda hide there. At first reader doesn't recognize Hosea because they haven't seen each other in a long time, but then he invites them all in, maybe he's even got enough room for all of them and the reader is just this sweet old man, same age as Hosea who treat everyone with respect if they deserve it, helps them out, doesn't judge etc. Hosea is just so glad that his family and his crush best friend are getting along.

Colter (Hosea x Male!Reader)

Note: In an au where Hosea takes the gang to readers home instead of colter. Thank you for the Request!

Warnings ! ! None

W/C : 1.1k

----------------------------------------

The harsh wind was suffocatingly cold, rugged mountainous landscape making travel near impossible. The atmosphere unforgiving, and bleak. The van der linde troops struggling to maintain life, every exhale met with a cold cloud. Huddling together in the back of the wagon to invade at each others warmth. Arthur shivered on his horse uncontrollably, him and Dutch shouting back and forth.

"There's nothing out there, Dutch!" He yelled over the heaving of ice through the air, powerful enough to pull him from his horse.

"Keep looking!" Dutchs voice broke as he shouted back.

"I know a place, keep going north!" Hosea gripped at the reins on his icy seat atop the wagon.

"You heard him!"

The group travelled the treacherous land, having no other choice but to push on. A flicker of life in the distance shining hope down on them, a small cabin revealing itself from the harsh winter.

Hosea let himself in first, letting the group know there was no danger. The beautiful heat from the raging fire hit them hard, offering instant relief from their dampened cloths. But perhaps they should have knocked, first. As a strange man had the barrel of his gun pointed at Dutchs head.

"Easy, yn" Hosea stepped forward, hand stretched in front of him.

The old man slowly dropped his weapon,, eyes lighting up at the sight of Hosea.

"Hosea! Long time no see old pal" His arms pulled the man into an embrace, Hosea appreciating the extra layer of warmth. "Caught in the Blizzard, I see?"

"Oh you know me. Always getting myself into life or death situations" He patted his old friends back and then retreated from the hug, pointing to the shivering group of people behind him. "Speaking of, don't suppose you could help a old bunch of delinquents?"

Y/n stood there for a second in thought, frail hands touching at his chin. "Well, There's not a lot of space but I don't mind sharing it for a few nights. As long as y'all don't reck the place"

"Of course, y/n. And no need to worry, we will repay your kindness. We have some skilled hunters amidst our criminals." Hosea pats Arthur on the back rather hard, an indication to his next mission.

"I'm sure you do" Y/n chuckles, inviting them inside.

"We really appreciate this, what was it, y/n?" Dutch offers the man a hand.

"Thats right" He returns the hand shake and smiles warmly at the charismatic man.

"Dutch, I suppose you could call me the leader of these 'bunch of delinquents'"

"Ah, I see" Y/n gave Hosea a knowing look. Having spoken about him in the letters they shared over the years. The moment took a turn when Pearson and Javier began to heave in the injured Davey. His pale skin mimicking that of the snow that surrounded them.

"He's not going to make it for much longer if we don't do something" Abigail moved everyone out of the way as they hauled the almost corpse from the bitter cold.

"Bring him in here" Y/n waved his hand as he cleared the wooden table sat in his small kitchen.

At least 20 minutes of tireless work and tense vibes had passed, y/n doing his best to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. Davey was in a stable position, his body being warmed by a fire as he lay in a makeshift bed on the floor. Still remaining still and in a deep sleep. But alive nonetheless.

Everyone had found a space to settle in. Drying out their clothes around the room, and taking the time to finally rest. John, who had been picked up on the way, lay similarly to Davey. Still and wounded. The idiot was mauled by wolves. Luckily for him, his horse braved the blizzard enough to get him back to the group in time.

The rest of the men sipped on hot beverages made by y/n, enjoying the company of good stories and a warm shelter. Taking it in while they could, for the morning to come could only bring worse obstacles.

"I was a Doctor, years ago. Saved Hoseas life countless times. But, as most people do these days, I had bad people after me. Had to move somewhere more remote. Its really not that bad in the summer." Y/n sat, leaning on his knee on the floor with a coffee in his hand.

"Saved my life" Hosea scoffed. "You bandaged up a little scrape for me. A child could have done that"

"It was a bullet hole wound you terrible man" Y/n laughed, playfully shoving him.

They chuckled together. Listening to each other as they shared their silly stories. Ones about when Arthur was a boy, or how they'd picked up John as a child.

"We can't put into words how grateful we are for the shelter, Y/n" Dutch put a hand to his heart.

"My pleasure. Think of it as a sorry for almost shooting y'all earlier"

"Don't worry about feeding us. Pearson over here has been our designated chef for years now. I can't imagine he is about to quit now" He pointed to a larger man in the kitchen, making conversation with Swanson with a bottle in both their hands. Y/n chuckled and nodded.

"Well, good luck finding food or even fresh meat. I have to sacrifice myself once every two weeks at the moment to make it into the nearest town"

"Valentine?" Hosea questioned

"Yeah, that's the one. Not to far South-East of here" Y/n had planted an idea in Hosea's head. That would be where they will find themselves next.

The group found themselves drifting to sleep as the night grew old. Scattered on the chairs, the floor next to the fire and any space they could find. But they were warm and they were ok.

Y/n and Hosea moved to the bed, away from the swarm of people on the floor. "You are welcome here whenever you need, old friend" y/n got himself into bed and patted the empty space next to him.

Hosea gladly took the invitation and plated himself in the warmth of the blanket.

"Noted, y/n" They shared a smile, before letting themselves fall to sleep.

It had been weeks since they had left the mountains, and settled in Horse-shoe Overlook. Hosea thought about y/n most days, wondering how he was getting on. He still hadn't replied to the last letter he sent. But he will be waiting with anticipation. Perhaps he should take a trip up there soon.

[kylesgarrick]

I would love to see javier x male reader!! Maybe something where reader gifts javier a present?

i realised that like i havent completed a single ask, and i swear im getting to them (maybe in a year or so), but i REALLY wanted to do this!

javier escuella x male reader, criticism always appreciated. i chose to not include that much spanish, i don’t speak spanish and do not want to butcher it or makes any of my spanish readers uncomfortable, sorry. set in chapter 1 :) DID NOT PROOF READ

javier has been stressed recently, it’s hard to get through winter by itself, but its been even worse after everything that happened at blackwater. the whole gang was barely getting by and he wasn’t sure everyone would survive the winter. he tried to not worry you too much and act confident in dutchs plans, but you could practically read his mind.

you saw how he was getting less and less sleep, staying up thinking about what happened on that boat with the pinkertons. how he was clinging onto you whenever he could, acting like you were gonna leave him or die if he wasn’t there with you. you wanted to treat him to something nice, get rid of his worries or atleast make him feel slightly better, even if it lasts only an hour.

so the second you hear that javier is going on another stressful mission to try kill colm o’driscoll with dutch and a few others, you decide to go looking for something to surprise him with. yes, it was a dumb idea. you probably shouldn’t have done it in the winter alone, especially after what happened with john and the wolves. but you honestly couldn’t care less, javier deserved something nice.

while you were waving them goodbye, javier gave you one big hug, and a little kiss on the cheek. most people were okay with you and javier being two men inlove, but it was still the 1800s and you weren’t going to get murdered for your love. you caught micah scoffing in disgust at the sight of you two and you roll your eyes, before drifting your attention back to javier.

“stay safe, love” you say, as javier wraps his arms around your waist and you put your arm around his neck, the rest of the gang was still preparing themselves for the mission. he smiles softly, “i will, amor.” you exchange one last kiss, before he gets on his horse and rides out with the rest of the gang.

once you make sure they’re out of seeing distance, you hop on your horse and ride into the snowy forest, looking for things to get for him. you end up finding an old pocket watch and a piece of wood. perfect! you could try carve him something, like a mini guitar or a horse. you rode back to camp, thinking of what you could do.

you go into your tent and begin carving a mini guitar for him, after a few hours he gets home and you quickly put it under your pillow and run over to him, pulling him in for a hug and a kiss, he laughs as you practically jump up on him, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you back. “someone’s excited to see me” he smiles, and you smile back at him.

“i have a surprise for you” you whisper in his ear, before leading him back to the tent. he was clearly thinking of some other surprise with the way he was shamelessly looking at your ass while smirking. when you get inside the tent, you reach under your pillow, getting nervous that he might not like it. when you pull out the mini hand-carved guitar sculpture, he gasps, eyes wide.

he stares at it in shock “you did this for me?” he says, as he sits down next to you and admires the mini sculpture. “i just thought that you’ve been stressed lately, i wanted to do something nice.” he looks at you, he places the sculpture in his lap before resting his hand on your cheek, bringing you in for a deep kiss. his lips were soft, and you felt his facial hair tickle your face, making you giggle a bit. he deepened the kiss, grabbing your waist as you straddled his lap, you finally break the kiss and rest your forehead against his. “i love you, javier.” “i love you more, my sweet thing”

ending is rushed! i can make a smut pt2 if you guys want :) this is so bad im sorry😭 barely any of its even about javier ARBE anon, if you dont like it and want me to redo it, just ask!!

[weolucbasu]

So, @da-proti-toku-grem kind of inspired me to make a lengthy post, sharing some positive vibes across the fandom, listing the reasons why I love each member of Joker Out and why I would go full mom-mode on them and cook for them and bake them gluten-free cookies.

Anyway:

A Joker Out, brain-rot, appreciation post

(members listed in alphabetical order)

Bojan

First up - as someone who had the chance to see them live, he is an insane performer

His ability to enchant the crowd is insane and you can tell really well that he has great acting abilities too

Watched him in Gospod Profesor too, spot on for someone who is a so-called amateur

His singing voice is... amazing to say the least, it feels really unique

Also, the way he talks, the sound of his voice, the words he uses, his pronunciation, if there were awards for talking he would get one

The languages he speaks, I want to study him, linguistically, he is truly a phenomenon

We of course love a bilingual king

He looks like he has his priorities straight

I also respect him so much for how open he is about his mental illness

I might relate to him a bit too much at times whoops

And the fact that he can somehow befriend literally anyone??? Love that

His friendship with Jere is the main one of course

Oh yeah and the fact that he literally helped people who collapsed at their gigs a few times

Bless him, he deserves all the rest he is hopefully getting

Jan

First things first, I have a soft spot for math guys

And the way he talks about math is fascinating (but you still won't get me to like it Jan)

Cat dad???? We absolutely adore Igor and a man loving cats is such a green flag

I know people say he mumbles a bit and it's hard to understand him at times, but idk, he talks nice and slowly, so it's still really easy to understand him

He comes from my home region, so I am very biased haha

Also, every band needs a guitarist with luscious locks

He absolutely owns the colour red, that colour was invented specifically for him

The nose ring suits him so well too, this man KNOWS what fits him

And if that ends up being jackets with nothing underneath when he performs, THEN SO BE IT

I know people call Kris the lesbian icon, but from what I've seen lesbians are very drawn to Jan as well

Oh, and he gives me Klaus from the Umbrella Academy vibes (I blame the hair and the pink boa)

Jure

Holy shit, sunshine in human form????

The most underappreciated one in the band imo

His surname literally means 'cat' and I am so normal that Jan has called him 'muca'

He also comes from my region haha, bias again

He's really good at filming, he actually shot a few things for RTV (national TV station) and edited them as well, god, talent

Also playing drums... I have sang, I have played guitar, played bass, but drums is something I feel like I could NEVER do, so hats off to you

As @da-proti-toku-grem pointed out, THE MOLE ON HIS LIP? weak knees, yes

He also reminds me of a good friend of mine and I vibe with him so much, I feel like I would vibe with Jure as well

I really don't like the fact that drummers tend to get ignored and I just wish there was more Jure performing content

Though I love it how every time, during Novi Val, he comes to the front and hangs with the others

His hair also looks so soft and fluffy aaaaaa

Again, biased but he resembles my bf the most out of everyone so hmmmm

Kris

The baby of the band! (and the only one in the band I could actually call 'mulc')

In case you didn't know yet, he's half Dutch

And he speaks Dutch, which, as someone who speaks Dutch (in theory, not in practice) makes me really happy

I wish to study him linguistically as well

Also his parents' story feels very close to me, as I'm dating outside of my culture as well

According to him he was menace as a kid and I think we should normalise the fact that you can become a better person as you grow up

But pls don't honk at me on the road Kris, pls, I will cry

The songs he wrote??? NGVOT and Vse kar vem??? Oh boy, I love them, adore them

His holey sweaters are also a vibe

Dutch fans, if you don't shower him and the rest of the band with gifts at their Dutch concerts, I will be mad

Also gotta honorably mention Maks

They gotta be my fav nepo-but-not-really babies out there

Kinda like Maya Hawke?

I am ranting

He also looks like the only member of the band that I would fight, and idk why

Also, I must know if he supports Max Verstappen haha

Minus points for chemistry though, I cannot with that

Nace

Okay everyone

Here we go

We have reached my beloved

I love all of them, but Nace just a bit more

It was love at first sight, I cannot lie

I have a soft spot for bassists and he might actually convince me to try and play bass again

He has been playing it for so long too??? like wow

Oh and of course; THE TATTOOS, BLESSETH BE THE TATTOOS

I will always go feral about his tattoos

At every concert

I know he was the last to join the band but it looks like he fits in so nicely, it's beautiful

Strong mom-codded dad friend vibes

He kinda is the dad of the band haha

And he looks like he gives amazing hugs (lucky all of you who had managed to get one already)

A nice addition to the band

Oh and he's apparently shit at sports which is like... felt

Plus the fact that he wanted to be a vet?

Me too boo, me too, but neither of us is there now

Anway, I'll stop now. In conclusion, this band has my whole heart and they deserve every good thing that happens to them and so much more.

[ch3apv0dkka]

Love Languages (Red Dead Redemption Headcanons)

All Masterlists | RDR Masterlist | Rules For Requests Everything I Post On Tumblr Is Also Posted On Wattpad

Prompt: Love Languages Some have different love languages for how they show and receive, and some are the same for both.

Dutch Van der Linde Giving & Receiving (the same): Acts of Service, Physical Touch & Quality Time ♱ He’s one to believe that actions speak louder than words. He appreciates verbally expressing love and appreciation, but showing it through physical affection and helping each other out means so much more. ♱ He values loyalty, and he thinks that acts of service are the best way to show that you are committed to someone and willing to be there for them. ♱ He is usually preoccupied with stuff involving the gang and doesn’t always have time to spend with you during the day, but once night rolls around and things start to settle down, he likes to enjoy your company until you both fall asleep.

•••

Arthur Morgan Giving: Quality Time & Physical Touch ♱ The two go hand in hand for him. He likes spending time with you, giving you his full attention while also giving you a lot of physical affection. ♱ He knows all too well not to take people for granted, so he loves spending time with you and won’t pass up the opportunity.

Receiving: Physical Touch ♱ He likes it when you return the affection to him. ♱ Loves it when you run your fingers through his hair.

•••

John Marston Giving & Receiving (the same): Words of Affirmation & Physical Touch ♱ Despite his rough exterior, he does like a lot of reassurance. ♱ He’s also good at giving reassurance to others, so he finds himself doing it a lot for you. ♱ He likes to praise you and tell you sweet things while he holds you and caresses you.

•••

Charles Smith Giving & Receiving (the same): Acts of Service & Physical Touch ♱ He appreciates whenever people do acts of service for him, so he naturally wants to do it for others. ♱ If he can do anything to make your life easier and take some weight off your shoulders, he’ll do it, no questions asked.

•••

Javier Escuella Giving: Gift Giving ♱ He loves to find things such as flowers or stones he thinks you’ll find pretty and give them to you. ♱ Plays his guitar and sings songs that he’s written for you. Also learns to play your favorite songs.

Receiving: Words of Affirmation ♱ He likes it when you sweet-talk him and express your love verbally. Yeah, he likes it when you express your love physically, but words are much more special to him. ♱ Complimenting his music also makes him really happy.

•••

Lenny Summers Giving: Words of Affirmation & Quality Time ♱ Likes to combine the two. ♱ He reads a lot of books, so he easily has a way with words and is very well-articulated, and knows the right things to say to you. ♱ Likes to share his books with you and read them to you. ♱ Whenever he’s spending time with you, he loves to say sweet things to you.

Receiving: Physical Touch. ♱ He loves being cuddled and held by you. ♱ He finds it cute when you get really clingy and affectionate.

•••

Josiah Trelawny Giving: Acts of Service ♱ He believes that you deserve to be treated like royalty, so he’s doing everything for you and not expecting anything in return. ♱ Need help cleaning up? He’s already started. Need him to bring you something? He already has it.

Receiving: Words of Affirmation ♱ He loves it when you tell him how much you love him and appreciate the things he does for you. ♱ Though he doesn’t expect it from you often, he does enjoy being praised and told sweet things.

•••

Hosea Matthews Giving: Quality Time ♱ He’s simple and knows what he wants. He likes spending time with you. After a long day, he likes to settle down with you and enjoy the moment. ♱ He often asks you if you want to accompany him whenever he goes out because it’s an opportunity to be alone with you.

Receiving: Physical Touch & Receiving Gifts ♱ He loves it when you cuddle up next to him without him having to ask. ♱ If you like to make things and make something for him, he will cherish it. If you were to make him a bracelet, he would never take it off. If you draw him something, he’ll make sure to keep it safe and look at it all the time. He doesn’t expect you to do these things for him, but if you do, he finds it sweet.

•••

Kieran Duffy Giving & Receiving (the same): Physical Touch & Words of Affirmation ♱ He is very clingy around you, so I think physical touch is definitely his main. ♱ He’ll take any opportunity to hold you while complimenting you and telling you how much he loves you. ♱ I think he would love to hug and cuddle you/be hugged and cuddled by you, while also saying/being told sweet words.

•••

Sean Macguire Giving & Receiving (the same): Physical Touch ♱ He’s very handsy to begin with, so I think this would be his preferred way to show his affection for you. ♱ He always likes to be around you, cuddling and kissing you, especially when you’re going to bed or any other time you’re alone.

•••

Simon Pearson Giving: Act of Service & Gift Giving ♱ He likes doing nice things for you and helping you. He wants you to have less stuff to worry about and have more time for yourself. ♱ Cooks for you a lot, which you appreciate whether it's good or bad. ♱ He tries to bring things to you he thinks you would like. If you knew him during his time in the Navy, he would bring home anything he found that he thought you might like.

Receiving: Physical Touch ♱ He likes any sort of physical touch from you, especially hugs. ♱ He wants someone who is clingy and willing to cling to him at any time, especially when you hang around him and hug him from behind while he’s cooking.

•••

Bill Williamson Giving & Receiving (the same): Physical Touch ♱ He can come off as very abrasive but will fully let his guard down and be very caring and loving to someone he thinks deserves it. ♱ When he holds you, he holds you very tight and very close to him. ♱ He’s lacked a lot of affection in his life and is a bit touch-starved, but will never admit it or show it.

•••

Micah Bell Giving: Gift Giving ♱ He finds it a lot easier and less work to just give you things that make you happy. He’s never really had a way with words, and he doesn’t like to do much, so words of affirmation and acts of service are out of the question. ♱ His gifts are usually things he’s stolen or found when he’s away from camp, though he will occasionally do something a little more special.

Receiving: Words of Affirmation ♱ He’s not the best at giving words of affirmation, but he likes hearing them from you. ♱ He likes hearing how “great” he is because it gives him a very big ego boost.

[roseghoul26]

Part 4

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist: @photo1030

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Right now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not both?”

“Can’t do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me, Arthur.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean-”

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

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

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

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

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

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not like you need one.”

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

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

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all, princess.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You imagine me naked a lot, Arthur?”

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

“For how long?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the matter?” You teased. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As long as you join me.”

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

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

“You’re very beautiful, Arthur.”

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

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

“Call ya what?”

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

“You want me to stop?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

[sweet-villain]

I've Been Here~ E.M

Words : 4.7k

Anonymous asked:

Can i request something sweet with Eddie? I’m stuck at work crazy busy with 2 people away sick!

Author's Note : I hope your day turns around <3

@babyloutattoo89 @palomam18 @becca-alexa @sadbitchfangirl @alienthingstwo @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

t’s been years since you’ve seen him. He used to hold the title of being your best friend before he chose to leave Hawkins, to pursue being who he was at the moment.

His hair was tied back in a low bun with a few strands sticking out as his fingers danced on the guitar he was holding.

It was much different from the one you used to always see in his room. Sweetheart.

Sweat dripped from him as he sang into the microphone wearing a sleeveless tank top with his arms filled with tattoos.

Girls were screaming out to him, reaching their arms and begging to let them be heard by them.

You have stood in the little corner near the security guard who’s been banging his head along the music.

Your eyes moved over to Jeff as he head banged while swinging his guitar around and his fingers dancing along the guitar.

Then, your eyes moved over to Gareth who was giving all he got on the drums, your eyes moved to the other one before they landed back on Eddie.

He’s changed over the last few years that you have seen him. The rockstar life done good to him. 

But, Eddie never stopped thinking about you or what happened to you. He knew he left you back in Hawkins, back there waving to him one last time.

He remembered the day he walked to get his diploma on stage and you ran up the stage not caring people yelling at you to get off stage when you jumped into his arms telling him how proud you were. He wanted to make you proud.

He wanted to make Wayne proud. He wanted to make his friends proud. He did. 

“ I’m going to travel around the world, you’ve always told me one day I’ll be the one on stage and making you proud” he says taking off his cap off his head, shaking his curls. 

“ You always made me proud” his eyes brim with tears as he nodded, chuckling. “ This time I’ll be away for a long time” he adds. You nodded. 

“ It’s okay, you’ll come back and we will catch up” this time Eddie nods before Gareth and Jeff jump on him. You stepped back to give them some room while you turn to face Wayne who’s been watching the interaction. 

“ That boy is crazy about you” he says. You laugh, shaking your head. 

“ As much as I appreciate that, but it’s a little late you tell him the same” you look back at Eddie to see he’s laughing while Dustin wraps his arms around his Dungeon Master. 

“ You’re not planning to tell him?” 

“ No, he deserve better” Wayne shakes his own head. “ You’re really good to him, don’t let him go without knowing” and you never did end up telling Eddie how much you cared about him. How much you loved him.

Now, you stood after years watching him on stage being the Eddie he always wanted to be.

They finished the song, he spoke into the microphone hearing the crowd cheer for him.

His eyes roam the crowd to see if he could spot someone he knew or they were the same faces he sees every time.

His head turned to the side as he stepped back to get some water when he stops and his whole body turns towards where you stood with your hands on the railing. 

His eyes search your face as if he is trying to remember or tries to pick on the fact that he knows you are and then you saw it. He knows. 

His eyes sparkle with happiness and a wide smile spread on his face. 

He mouths your name as you wave to him with your fingers. It’s been years since the two of you saw each other and here you were, both reunited with one look. 

“ What’s going on, Eddie?” Gareth spoke into the microphone noticing Eddie had stopped and was looking at something, or at someone. But not anyone.

It was you. Gareth stood up from his seat and he looked over his drum set to spot who was Eddie looking at it.

It’s when he walked around his drum set that his eyes laid on you and he threw his drum stick down, and hopped off the stage and raced towards you. That face.

Your face was familiar to him. He knew you from the moment he looked at you. 

“ What are you doing here?” He asked, the crowd was confused on who you were and you felt eyes on you that felt unwanted and fill with jealousy. 

“ Did you really think I was going to miss one of your shows?” Gareth threw his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. 

“ Alright Emerson, don’t hog the girl now. I’m sure she’s be happy for a reunion, right sweetheart?” Eddie says into the microphone. His voice send chills down your spine as he spoke.

Gareth eyes widen as he smacked his forehead forgetting he thew his drum stick down and hurried back on stage before giving you an apologetic glance. 

“I think you should continue to your next song, Munson. The crowd doesn’t look to happy” you shouted to him, “ there will be plenty of more to talk about me” you give him a smirk. Eddie’s eyes crinkled in the corner as he chuckled.

“ You heard her, shall we continue?’ He spoke into the microphone. The crowd shouted with happiness, finally getting what they wanted. The girls next to you scoffed and looked you up and down. “ Problem?” You asked.

They snickered to themselves and turned back to watch Eddie as they were. You rolled your eyes removing your hands from the railing and slipping through the crowd to get some water for yourself. 

Eddie frowned when he saw that you weren’t in your spot when his eyes searched around and he motioned to the security guard to go find you and bring you backstage.

He wasn’t about to let you slip through his fingers just like that. It’s been year since he last seen you and the last time he asked Wayne about you, he knew you were working as a kindergarten teacher. He remembered the many tines you’ve told him how much you adored little kids. 

You were in line counting the money that you have brought with you when you felt a tap on your shoulder, stopping you. Your head turned seeing a large security guard with a relief look on his face when he saw it was you. 

“ Miss, Mr. Munson requested you to come backstage” he says taking a pass from his back pocket and handing it to you.

“ I’m just grating some water and I’ll be right there” you motion to the stand which he nodded as he waited on the side. He was probably going to escort you so no one would run with you backstage. 

You got your water and were startled to see him still standing there. 

“ I’m ready” you said, making your way to him. “ Follow me” you kept up with him while uncapping your water and taking small sips of it trying to get through the crowd that he kept pushing through.

The people he kept trying to push through mumbled “ heys” and “ watch it.” But it looked like the security didn’t care and kept looking back to make sure you were following him. 

Corroded Coffin were doing there last sone when Eddie had spotted you standing by the side watching them play. He rose his hands up into his hair and took his bun out letting his hair hang loose. Strands of his hair stuck to his forehead as he breathed making eye contact with you. 

“ Is everyone having a good time?” He asked through the microphone when the song ended. The crowd shouted mostly his name which he loved. “ Unfortunately that was our last song of the night” the crowd booed. 

“ I know, I know. But I promise you guys we will come back” the crowd cheered, “ thank you for coming out and seeing us. It means the world to us, to me, to Corroded Coffin. We love and have a good night. Please get home safe” he blew a kiss into the crowd.

Every girl thought the kiss he blew was for them. He took his guitar off himself and handed it over to the crew members that packed the gear.

Gareth partially ran off the stage and threw his hands around you and picked you up. You giggled, slapping his back to put you down. 

“ Emerson, put the girl down. Jesus, give her a minute” Jeff says as he walked off next. Gareth pouted as he put you down on the ground when Jeff wrapped his arms around you.

“ Good to see you, girl” he says. “ It’s been too damn long” he adds which you agree. The other one came to hug you too while Eddie waited his turned using a towel to wipe the sweat off of him while he waited. 

You pulled away from him and turned to look at the man you have have been waiting to look at for years and years. Now, the towel he was using was left on the side as his arms were crossing across his chest and he stared at you with a smile on his face.

“ Hi, stranger” you says and step towards him, standing in front of him. 

“ Hi” he chuckled as he dropped his arms and opened them, waiting for you to wrap your arm around him. The other guys have left you two alone to catch up knowing how the two of you still felt about each other. It wasn’t rocket science, only to you and Eddie it wasn’t believable. 

You walked into his arms and buried your head into his sweaty chest which you didn’t mind at all. Your hair got a little damped from his sweat but that didn’t matter as his arms wrapped around you. He rested his head on top of yours and sniffed your shampoo. 

“ I know I smell good, Munson” he chuckled. His chest rumbling as he laughs. “ You need a shower though, you reek” you pulled away from him and scrunched up your nose. His heart melted at the sight wanting nothing more than to kiss your nose. “ Yeah? What else, sweetheart?” He asks. You eyes his hair which was more curlier than usual and frizzier than usual. 

“ When was the last time you used some conditioner for your hair or a hairbrush?” He gasped putting a hand on his heart. “ I’m really offended there sweetheart, I take good care of my hair” he says. “ It’s a magnificent mane of hair” 

“ You’ve got more tattoos too” he lifted one of his arms which was a sleeve and turned it around to show you them. He was very much proud of most of them.

“ I’m mostly covered in them, do you like them?” He asked. He eyed the way you were looking at him and for the first time he’s seeing a sparkle in your eye that he never seen before. Was it always there? 

“ I do” you nodded letting your eyes roam each one. 

“ You’re growing a beard too” you mumbled motioning to his mouth. His hand came up to rest on the little beard he was growing there.

“ Do you like it or do you want me to shave it?” You rose your eyebrow in question why all of sudden Eddie thought about what you liked. 

“ It suits you” you shrugged, “ but I like the clean shaven Eddie too. One of my favorites” he tilted his head in question. “ What do you mean? One of your favorites…” 

“ You have moments where your happy, excited, sad, passionate, angry and the best one where your soft and lovable Eddie. That one is one of my favorites” his heart melted.

You have listed every version of himself that you have seen so far, even drunk and high Eddie was one of your favorites. He was your favorite. 

“ I like those too, but your moments especially the one where you giggle and scrunch up your nose” he pokes at it finally after wanting to do it for years since high school.

“ You know you do that too?” You motion to his nose. 

“ Do what?” He asks. 

“ You scrunch up your nose when your angry” 

“ Heard you were a kindergarten teacher now, must be loving the dream life there” he says.

“ How many kids in the class?” He asks. You weren’t really sure if he was really interested in your life or he was asking questions just to have the time to go by. You shifted back and forth on your feet, nibbling on your lip. 

“ Yeah, that’s the dream life in my moments. I have about 15 kids in the class and love each and everyone of them. I wouldn’t change it for the world. But look at you, though..” You trailed motioning to the stage. “ Eddie The Rockstar Munson.” 

He laughed, “ Yeah it’s been a rollercoaster journey. I love it” he says. You see there is sadness in his eyes which he tries to push away but you can’t help ask him about it. 

“ Why the look on your face, then?” 

“What look?” He asks. 

“ That one” you point to your own face. “ Your eyes are sad but everything else is telling me your fine when it’s not” he shrugs wanting to push the question away and he rather not talk about what he feels. 

“ You know you can talk to me, Eds” his old nickname slips through your lips and melts him as he sighs. 

“ I miss my old life too, being around you. Being back home with Wayne. I miss our friends too, but this” he waved around, “ this is home too. Corroded Coffin is home too, they are home too” he motions to the boys who keep trying not listen to the conversation but Eddie knows they are there.

“ I miss you too, Wayne misses you too. They all do. Dustin, Steve, Max, Mike, everyone else. But we will always be waiting for you with open arms no matter where you choose to be or who you are with, you always have a home to come to.” 

His eyes brim with tears as he tries to push them away. 

“ After all the years of being away, you still want me to part your life” you nodded as you reach out to take his hand in yours. “ I promise you, nothing has changed” 

“ Bullshit” you heard a cough from Gareth come. You shoot him a glare that it wasn’t the time to talk about what he wanted to really say. Eddie brushed Gareth off as he embraced you once again. 

“ It’s time to go” one of the crew members said. “ We have packed everything” he says. Eddie pulls away and nodded sadly to him and turns his head back to see that you’ve stepped back from his reach. “ Hey” he calls out to you to grab your attention. 

“ This isn’t a goodbye, you know?” He says. You nodded your head, sadly. 

“ I’ll come home soon” he says. “ I will” he adds like it’s a promise he’s making to you.

His hands squeeze at your shoulders as he steps up and he’s hesitate about laying a kiss on your forehead, but does it anyways feeling his heart race against his rib cage. 

Your eyes close feeling his lips on your forehead bringing so many memories back to high school days.

You breath in his new scent filled with sweat. When you open your eyes, you feel a kiss on your cheek too which shocks you. Eddie softly smiles at you.

“ Soon” he promises as he steps back. But the way he steps back is walking backwards not to break contact with you.

It’s sad to watch him walk away, but he was doing his job, his dream by traveling around the world being who he wants to be. The hurtful part of it is he’s doing this without you by his side. 

Eddie doesn’t break his promise as he waits for you to finish at school, his car is in front of the school when your walking through the doors, ready to head home after a long day.

But, you stop in your tracks seeing him standing there in a leather jacket that must of cost a fortune and his hair looked like it’s been brushed and conditioned.

He doesn’t have the beard anymore and it looks like the old Eddie you knew stood there. 

Your feet picked up as he moved away from his car to catch you in his arms and swing you around. He sets you down after three spins and looks down at you. 

“ What are you doing here?” You asked. 

“ I promised you that I’d make it home” the smile your face light up and you threw your arms around him pushing your face into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you as he held you tight. He never wants to let you go. He doesn’t want this moment to stop. He wants to have his moment forever. 

You pulled away with your eyes widen. 

“ Did you see Wayne already?” He shook his head. 

“ You were the first person I wanted to see when I came here” he says. 

“ But wait, what about the guys? Tour? Your music” 

He shook his head, “ They can wait. Music can wait. Tour can wait. I needed this, I needed to come home. I needed to see you.” 

“ Then we should see Wayne!” You shouted, clasping your hands around your mouth.

“ He might cry when he sees you” Eddie groaned throwing his head back. “ I don’t think I can handle it, much alone handled you if you cried either.” 

“ Oh stop, come on” your hands reached to open his car door when his hand stop you. You looked up at in confusion what was going on when he asked if you walked to school this morning. 

“ No, a co worker picked me up and we headed together to work” 

Eddie frowned at that, “ well I will take you to work then, every day” he nodded his head. 

“ Wait, how did you know I worked here?” He smirked as he patted himself on the chest. 

“ Do you know who I am, sweetheart?” 

“ Edward” you mumbled. 

He shook his head, “ That name is only allowed to be used when your mad at me.” 

“ Eddie” you corrected yourself. 

“ Good, but add my last name now. You can do it” he says. 

“ Eddie Munson” he nodded with a smile on his face. 

“ Now that you know my name, you should know that I have my ways of finding things”

“ Okay Mr. Rockstar, time to go home” he chuckled as he bowed in front of the open door. 

“ Your ride, m’ lady” you giggled covering your mouth always not liking it. But to Eddie it was music to his ears. “ You’re such a dork, Munson.” 

“ The way you like it” he says as he closed the door and made his way to the driver side. The car smelled like something fruity and it was cleaned too. 

“ Is this your car?” You asked looking around to see if you can spot anything out of ordinary that didn’t scream Eddie. That’s when your eyes anded on what was hanging on his mirror in front. It was a pair of dice. The same dice he used to use back in high school when he was the dungeon master.

“ Are those?” You gasped reaching over and running your fingertips over the numbers.

He watched as you admired it, a big smile on his face when he saw that you knew what it was.

You noticed the small indent on it too, it was the same ident that was there when he used it on one of his campaigns and it was then Gareth was angry and he used Eddie’s dice a little too hard. 

“ You kept it after all those years” he nodded. “ I’ve kept most of the things from back in our high school days.” 

“ Like what?” You asked reaching for the seat belt to buckle ourself in. 

“ My old vest jacket, my notebook filled with my drawings and notes which held some of our most famous conversations” you giggled at that.

“ I’ve kept the mug you got me for my birthday” he leaned back into his seat remembering the things he still has, “ The beginners level of when I was trying to teach you how to play D&D, the first album we got together, Sweetheart, mix tapes you made for me and there so much more.” 

Your own eyes were getting teary hearing the stuff he kept from his high school days and most of them were stuff you have gave to him. 

“ That’s so sweet, you didn’t have to. You know?” He nods giving a small shrug as he starts to car.

Music blast through the radio, and he reaches over the knob to turn it down and rolls down the window as he drives off. From time to time, you look over at him admiring how pretty he has gotten over the years but he has always been pretty. 

“ So, do you have a girlfriend?” You suddenly asked him bringing Eddie out of his thought. His thought about you. His eyebrow raised as he looked over at you.

“ Why do you ask?” You gave him a small shrug in response like you have no idea on why you did ask him that but you knew why you want to ask him. Your heart would tear apart if he had a girlfriend and it was over for you to be with him.

“ No, don’t really have the time for one” he says. Your lips frown in a thin line as you nod. 

“ How about you? Any lucky guy?” He asks, the grip on the wheel has tightened as his eyes waited in panic to hear that you have found someone. Someone that wasn’t going to be him. Someone better. Someone to make you happy. Someone that you deserved. Someone that wasn’t what he is. 

“ No, I’m usually exhausted after a long day of work and I don’t have it in me to find someone” you shrugged like it was the best answer to give him. But to Eddie, it hurt that you did’t even want to have someone in your life to vie you the best life you deserve.

Were you waiting on him? Do you know he likes you? Always has though.

He never got the chance to tell you how he felt about you because he was too chicken to admit to his feelings back then. 

“ I’m sure there are plenty of guys waiting in line to treat you right” you laughed at that as Eddie turned the corner and he was heading to the trailer park where his hands got sweaty and his Adam’s apple bopped in nervousness. 

“ Wayne will be so excited to see you” your hand reached out to squeeze at his thigh causing him to jump at your touch.

His cheeks flushed and he cleared his throat to try and hide how your touch affected him.

He parked the car outside the trailer he used to live in. The door the trailer had opened and in stepped out Wayne with a shocked looked on his face. 

You stepped out to greet him but Wayne’s eyes were on Eddie the whole time.

“ Is that you, my boy?” He asks. 

Eddie turned his head to glance over at Wayne after he stepped out of the car and nodded his head.

“ It’s me, Wayne. It’s Eddie” he says. Wayne shed tears down his cheeks as the two embraced each other into a hug. It’s been a long time coming and you couldn’t help to shed tears of your own seeing them reunite.

It was the hand grabbing onto the back of Wayne’s shirt and the tears in Eddie’s eyes that got you. 

They pulled away to talk while you gave them some space. A car was heading into your direction and it was a familiar on as your smile grew on your face.

The color on the car has changed and it was a little old now, but still the same. Steve was in the driver side and Dustin in the passenger side with Robin in the back with Max and Lucas. Steve parked in front of you and before you could say anything else, Dustin had rushed out of the car with a shocked look on his face.

“ Eddie?” He asked. “ is that you?” 

Eddie turned to glance at his best friend, “ Henderson” he says opening his arms. Dustin laughed as he raced towards to Eddie with happiness. 

“ He’s back?” Steve asks you which you nod your head.

“ He’s home” you mumble. Max walks over to your side while Lucas ran over to Eddie too. 

“ Have you told him?” Max says with her hands in her pocket, looking up at you. 

“ No” you shook your head, “ Not now.” 

“ You better tell him how you feel or I’ll tell him myself” she says. “ I will tell him” you nodded your head. “ Just not now” 

Steve walked over and Eddie embraced in into a hug. 

“ Hi red” he says to Max. 

“ Hi Eddie” Max says as she waved at him. You were sitting on porch of the trailer as Eddie reunited with his friends and you were too lost in your thoughts when Wayne sat next to you. 

“Are you going to finally tell him how you feel?” You shrug. 

“ He’s busy being happy reunited with them, that can wait” Wayne hums and shakes his head. “ You’ll wait to long and he’ll be gone again.” 

You were silent after those words. Wayne patted your shoulder, “ You’ll figure it out, kid. You always do.” He stood up and made his way inside the trailer leaving you with your thoughts. Eddie had noticed that you weren’t part of the group and frowned and turned in circles to find you when he noticed you sitting on the front porch. 

“ Why are you alone? Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked. He kneel down on his knees in front of you as his ring clad hand rubbed circles on your knee. 

“ I’m fine, Eddie” he hums as his eyes roam your face. He doesn’t believe you. You knew. 

“ What can I do to make it better?” He offered. 

“ Go back to them” you motion to your friends, but he stayed where he was. “ I’m right where I want to be” he says. “ with you, right now. This moment.” 

You groaned throwing yourself at the cushion. 

“ Eddie, why do you have to be like that?” 

“ Like what?” He asked, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion on what you were on about. “ You’re being sweet” you mumble. 

“ Because you deserve someone to be kind to you, to listen to you, to spend time with you and to remind you that your special” 

“ And your that person?” He nods. 

“ Eddie..” You trailed as he shook his head taking your hand in his. 

“ I know” your eyebrows knitted together in confusion on what he meant by that but he answers you. 

“ I know you feel something between us, I feel it too and I am not going to let it slide past me. I know this might be scary that I might go back on tour or back where my house is, but I’m more than happy to move here if you choose that you want to be with me.” 

You throw your arms around his neck and place your head on his forehead. 

“ I always wanted it. I always wanted to you.”

“ I’m right here, I have always been right here. I always been yours from the moment you smile at me” you couldn’t help yourself as your lips smashed against his with hunger and passion. A little gasp came from him as his hand came behind your neck to pull you closer to him. His lips danced against yours as one. You felt like you were flying and everything else didn’t matter.

It was just Eddie and you. It’s been like that, you have always felt it. 

[yanderes-galore]

Hello can I request gen hc of Lenny from RDR 2

Sure, I can try! Sorry if his character comes out wrong or something is off, like all my fics feedback is appreciated. You're both about 19 or around that, totally didn't do this because I'm also 19 along with him 😅

Yandere! Lenny Summers Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Some manipulation, Soft yandere, Slight found family dynamic mentioned a times, Paranoia, Fear of loss, Brief slavery mention (Game takes place in 1899, it's part of Lenny's backstory), Clingy behavior briefly mentioned, Dubious companionship.

Just a warning, I'm really new to RDR2 and have only really seen cutscenes and interactions.

If his character is off, I'll try to get better as I'm more acquainted with the source material.

If anyone has any tips to write him or anyone better, I'll take them.

Lenny is the youngest member of the gang.

He's also one of the most educated members due to his upbringing.

I feel like you and Lenny would both be some of the younger members in the gang.

You joined for your own reasons, one way or another you became an outcast… a misfit….

But then you found the gang… your new family.

Lenny ends up becoming a close friend of yours due to your similar ages.

You two end up sharing a lot of conversation as you survive in the gang.

You learn of his past as a slave and what happened to his father… in return you tell him your past.

It's a bit surprising how fast you clicked.

You two would aid one another in robberies while watched with older members of the gang.

You'd often have long intellectual talks or just talks in general.

Lenny is sometimes cocky and confident due to being young, yet he's also intelligent and fun-loving.

He's confident and loyal, always wanting to help Dutch and the gang.

When it comes to you Lenny can see you in a few ways as the requester was not specific.

A close friend… a sibling… a lover… it doesn't really matter for the concept.

Lenny would have a close connection to you due to your shared struggles in the gang and life before it.

Yet you both find mutual comfort in each other.

Lenny would no doubt be very attentive towards you.

He makes sure you always have a serving of food, he even helps you with education if you never learned.

Honestly, Lenny seems like such a sweet character.

He cares for you like family one way or another.

With how he always sits by you and defends you, other members certainly think he's taken a liking to you.

They even assume he has a romantic attraction to you (unless he clears it up).

It's actually a bit cute to see the two younger members of the gang get along.

He's clearly quite fond of you in some way.

It's a bit hard for me to say what would be his yandere characteristics but I'd say Lenny is loyal, caring, and protective.

He's probably not the most possessive person although he will stand up for you.

For example, if someone in the gang was harassing you he'd step in quickly.

He'd probably try to be charming by pushing you behind him to deal with the issue.

Lenny probably wouldn't be quick to pull his gun but he definitely is quick to defend you.

He cares deeply for you.

While when you first met he was excited to go on robberies and look for supplies with you… it's soon replaced with hesitance.

Lenny never thought of this until he was closer to you… but it seems so easy to lose you.

The thought scares him late at night when you're asleep and he's up late on guard.

You're both young and devoted to the gang… but he can't help but wonder if you deserved better?

Lenny begins to think you should stay at the camp while he goes and gets money/supplies.

Surely that will not only impress you but keep you safe?

I feel if pushed to it, Lenny may kill for you.

However he'd primarily try to convince you to stay at the camp to keep you safe.

If you asked Lenny why he's so worried I feel he'd try to avoid the conversation before blurting out his worries.

He's just been thinking… wouldn't it be better if you stayed out of trouble?

Lenny is genuinely just looking out for you.

He wants to protect you like a man should but at the same time… he feels he should do more than that.

Lenny is certainly like a guard to you.

Too much pestering? Feeling sick? Need any help?

Lenny always seems to be there to help you, you're family after all.

I feel like Lenny is certainly a tame yandere but would do anything he can to keep you if pushed into a corner.

He's a good kid according to other members.

He wouldn't be too possessive, wouldn't be too ruthless, just genuinely caring.

He may go overboard with it at times but he means well.

He takes you dancing at the camp, he hugs you close to comfort you, sometimes it feels like he's using you to soothe his anxieties.

However, you may not mind as Lenny is so genuine.

He isn't overly manipulative and doesn't often try to deceive you.

He'll tell you the truth most of the time, even venting his worries to you.

The best part about his yandere is that there are minimal red flags.

He's a bit clingy and protective, yet it's not too suffocating.

Him keeping you in the camp is certainly an odd change… but nothing too out of the ordinary.

He does have a point… the camp is a bit safer.

Concerning behavior would be constant fist fights, attempted murder, isolation, stuff like that.

While that may be possible with Lenny, it's rare.

He'd only fight if someone got on his nerves or if he's forced to, even then he usually finds a way to fix the situation.

Isolation isn't something he really considers as he knows you both see the gang as family.

Overall I feel Lenny can be seen as an overly caring best friend, big brother, or potential boyfriend.

He means well and wants to keep you out of trouble.

He won't start fights over you, but he'll end them.

Even if it requires violence… He'll make sure you stay out of harm's way.

After all… he cares for you, doesn't he?

What kind of man would he be if he didn't look after you so closely?