#Hot Dutch Daydream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

MR. REIGNS

Prompt: Requested by nonny

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, degradation (name calling), flirting, daddy kink, sir kink, age gap

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @wickedsunfire , @akiko-tanaka , @aerynscrichton , @sassymox , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @reigns-5sos , @lustyromantic , @auawdo , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @nicolewoo , @writtingrose , @bayley-no-friends

Notes: Disclaimer - For respect purposes, I’ll be using a fictional name for Roman’s daughter on this fic. If you’d like to check out my other works, you can find them on my Masterlist

It’s finally Senior Year - and what a fucking relief that is! No more stressful and endless studying hours, no more busting our asses off for mediocre grades, no more shitty frat parties “and last - but certainly not least- no more breaking up with asshole boyfriends at said crappy parties!

I don’t like younger guys. They’re inexperienced, get flustered easily, and don’t care whatsoever about reciprocating pleasure towards their girlfriends or hookups! I like older men...there's something about them that’s just perfect. “When I first met Amber Reigns, I never imagined that I would be blessed with such an amazing best friend. That’s why I knew it was wrong to have the hots for her father, but c’mon! Have you seen the man? He’s delicious! And I’m made of flesh and blood, therefore I have my weaknesses too. And Mr. Reigns is one of my biggest weaknesses.

“Y/N” Amber peeked her head inside my dorm room “Are you ready? My dad’s waiting for us in the parking lot”

“Yeah, I got everything I need” I said while putting on my backpack

“Do you mind going to the car? I’ll be right behind you, I just need to leave some books at the library, because if I don’t they’ll fine me like twenty dollars” She rolled her eyes in annoyance

I giggled “Sure. But don’t take too long flirting with the library boy” I responded in a teasing tone

She stuck her tongue out and left.

I made my way towards the parking lot and saw him standing there, leaning sexily against his pickup truck. He was wearing an extremely tight black tank top, which did nothing but accentuate his rippling muscles and tanned skin that were on full display. The intricate patterns of his tattoo could be seen from afar, the way the black lines molded to his skin like a shield never failed to turn me on, and a pair of black joggers caressed his strong thighs beautifully. His long, black, silky hair was tied up in a tight knot at the back of his head....the man was a fucking sight for sore eyes!

“Hello, Y/N” He greeted with a smile

“Mr. Reigns” I said shyly

He grabbed my backpack and placed it in the trunk of his car “How are you?”

“I’m good, sir. How are you?”

“Better now” He winked and smirked. And I almost came in my pants

“Where’s Amber?”

“She went to the library to return some books, sir”

“Don’t I get a hug?” He smiled

I awkwardly hugged him as I felt the smell of his cologne filling up my lungs and this weird feeling of wholesomeness took over me

“Let’s get inside the car, it’s too hot out here” He laughed

Amber had invited me to spend this holiday weekend with her family, and since I wasn’t feeling much in the mood to go home, I said yes. The only thing I didn’t know was that she planned on going to Mr. Reigns’ house instead of her mom’s house. Before I could fantasize in my daydreams for too long, Amber had returned from the library and hopped into the vehicle.

“Who will be spending the weekend with us?” Amber asked as she fastened her seatbelt

“Your uncles will be coming tomorrow afternoon with your cousins. Your brother decided to go to his girlfriend’s parents, and your sister is coming over on Sunday” Mr. Reigns replied as he turned onto the highway leading to his home.

During the two hour long ride, Mr. Reigns and Amber spent most of the trip conversing animatedly, occasionally asking me a question or two to keep me from feeling too left out, but I let them mostly catch up amongst themselves.

When we got to his place it was the end of the afternoon, and Mr. Reigns went to the kitchen to cook us dinner. I took the opportunity to shower and change into some clean clothes, nothing fancy though, just a pair of yoga pants and a gray tank top. While Amber was taking one of her famously long baths, I got bored and decided to go downstairs to see what Mr. Reigns was cooking.

“Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He smirked

“Amber is taking a bath” I rolled my eyes in fake annoyance

“Oh great” He grunted, but a smile danced on his lips “That will be quick” He joked, and I laughed in response

“So when is your girlfriend coming?” I asked nonchalantly and leaned against the kitchen island as he chopped some carrots

“Girlfriend?” He chuckled “I know nothing about that”

“How is that possible?” I asked in disbelief

“I don’t need someone in my life in order to be happy, Y/N”

“I’m not saying you do, Mr. Reigns. I’m just saying I find it hard to believe that a man like you doesn’t have a girlfriend”

“And why aren’t YOU spending the holidays with your boyfriend?” He teased

“Boyfriend? I know nothing about that” I mocked

He cackled “And why not? Maybe a boy in college wants to be your boyfriend?”

“I don’t like young guys” I shrugged

“Oh really?” He scooted closer “What do you like then?”

“I like older men”

“How old?” He flirted

The vixen part of my brain woke up once I saw the fire in his eyes “Around your age”

“My age?”

I nodded

“And what does a twenty two year old little girl like you know about men my age?” He licked his lips

“Oh Mr. Reigns...I know a lot” I smirked

………………………………………………………………………………………..

We went to sleep late that night, so the next morning I didn’t even hear Amber calling for me so we could go to the grocery store. When I slowly opened the door of the guest bedroom, I heard Mr. Reigns saying:

“I’ll stay here with her and you go to the store, because God forbid if I forget to buy whatever is your addiction at the moment” He chuckled

“Dad, stop!” She giggled “You’re making me sound like a terrible person, AND it’s Twinkies, ok?”

“Again? I thought it was chocolate with nuts”

“Nope, it’s Twinkies now, and just for that, I’ll buy an extra box just to piss you off” She laughed deviously and left out the door.

When her car left towards the highway, I saw Mr. Reigns going up the stairs and coming towards my guest bedroom. I quickly went to the bathroom so I could brush my teeth.

Mr. Reigns slowly opened the door of my room as I was leaving the bathroom.

“So you’re awake?”

“I woke up when Amber was leaving”

“Why didn’t you go to the store with her?”

“Wasn’t feeling like it. Why are you in my room, Mr. Reigns?”

“I came to check on you”

“Why? Do I need someone watching over my sleep?” I laughed

“I just wanted to make sure you were ok, Y/N”

With a smirk on my lips, I said “So you had no other intentions AT ALL?”

“Would you like me to have other intentions?” He chuckled

“Who wouldn’t?”

“You know this is wrong, right?”

“If I heard it correctly, Mr. Reigns, you were the one who wanted to stay behind, and you are the one who came up here” I shrugged

“Touché” He pushed me down on the bed, and covered my body with his

“If it’s so wrong, why are you doing it, sir?”

“Because” He licked his lips “Everything that is forbidden tastes sweeter, don’t you think?”

I giggled while my hands dipped inside his white t-shirt “That’s your shitty excuse?” And chuckled “C’mon, I know you can do better than that”

He cackled “Maybe...or maybe it’s the truth” His hands pulled my satin shorts down “I’ve thought about this ever since I first saw you”

“So why did it take you so long to do something about it?”

“I wanted to make sure you felt the same” His lips brushed against mine

“We better hurry up before someone gets here”

“It takes two and a half hours to get to the store and back, baby. We’ve got plenty of time” He smirked and kissed my lips deeply.

His full lips tasted like caramel coffee, something he drank every morning without a fail. I undid his perfect bun and let his black, silky hair fall upon his shoulders as we kissed. Moaning into the kiss, I pulled his hair while I wiggled my hips, which made him groan.

“So eager” He slapped my ass “I like that. Makes me wanna fuck you even harder”

He took my wrists and locked them on top of my head while rubbing his bulge against my core.

“Please, daddy” I moaned “Please fuck my pussy”

He growled at my pleading and pulled his joggers down quickly. Roman teased my clit with his tip, sliding it up and down my folds, applying more pressure every time he hit my little nub.

“No more teasing, Mr. Reigns... Please...”

Roman smirked and slid in me with one soft thrust.

“Fuck” We moaned together

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as he filled my core like nothing else. His size was beyond perfect to me and I couldn’t hold back my moans of pleasure any longer.

“That’s my good little slut, moan for the one who owns this pussy” He pulled all the way out, until just the tip was in, and then he went in again with a rough thrust

“Oh yes, Mr. Reigns. Keep going please” I moaned loudly

He gripped me by the neck and chuckled “Such a needy whore! I love seeing what I can do to you. The power I have over you...How you lose yourself while I fuck you” He slapped my ass vigorously “You’ve been waiting a long time to have me in you, haven’t you, my sweet whore?”

“Yes, sir” I panted

“Then tell me! Who’s my filthy little slut?”

“Me, daddy”

He snarled before fucking me faster “Say it!”

“I’m your filthy little slut, sir” Tears started to gather in my eyes, as I could feel overstimulation being so close

“Then cum for me, like a filthy, little, slut” He whispered in my ear, while pinching my clit.

It didn’t take him long to reach his high, and Roman quickly pulled out and spilled his seed on my mound.

He leaned down and captured my lips in a sweet kiss

“C’mon, let’s get cleaned up” Roman looked up at the clock and continued “And if we’re quick enough in the shower, we can have another round before someone gets here”

He picked me up in his arms, bridal style and whispered

“I still need to taste this pussy or else I’m gonna become a mad man” He smirked when I gasped

And ran towards the bathroom.

Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated ❤️😘

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #masochist writes

541 notes · View notes

jjmichie · 3 years

Text

“Stone Savors the Moment”

Disclaimer: this is Fan Fiction, not true, just my imagination. The story takes place in the early days of PJ, on their first European tour. it should be a time of great excitement, but Stone is finds that ghosts are still lingering and some memories die hard.

******

Stone stepped out onto the gently sloping balcony and breathed in the night air. The deliciously familiar scent of weed was rising from somewhere below him, coupled with the smell of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Dutch food of some sort? Or perhaps it was the musty quaintness of the room he had just stepped out from. Or something on the cobblestone sidewalks below, or something unseen beneath the black water in the canal.

Maybe it was just the smell of Amsterdam itself.

It was February, and all he was wearing was the terry cloth robe from the motel room. His long hair was still wet, having soaked himself in a hot shower immediately upon the band’s arrival. He shivered as he watched a bicyclist wobble by, treading carefully on the undulating cobblestone.

“This is AWESOME!” Dave stepped out onto the balcony next to him, flicking a cigarette, wearing the other terry cloth robe from the room. His weight created an ominous creak of protest from the balcony.

“Shit!” Stone lunged back toward the interior. “I don’t think this thing can hold us!”

Dave immediately followed, grabbing Stone’s elbow to steady himself, both of them widening their eyes at each other.

“Ha! Well, that would have sucked . . .” Dave laughed.

Stone didn’t laugh. The vision of the two of them crashing to the cobblestone was still looping through his mind. He felt it all, the sensation of falling, the cold hardness rising up to confront him, the black water engulfing them, freezing them. He was helpless to stop it. The vision was now playing over and over. He moved further into the arms of the room.

“Yeah, that would be our luck, wouldn’t it,“ he tried to joke.

“Hey . . . don’t worry,” Dave pointed out, as Stone continued to back away, all the way to the opposing wall. “We’re okay. We’re back inside!” Dave quickly pulled the balcony door shut.

“I know . . . “ Stone let himself sink onto one of the twin lumpy beds that adorned the room, hoping Dave wouldn’t notice he was shaking.

“Forget it! Here, have some of this stroopwafel! It’s amazing.” Dave came closer to the bed, and that was when Stone noticed Dave’s bed was piled high with boxes and bags and plates overflowing with steaming dripping totally unrecognizable food items, shining in the glow of an impossibly ornate light fixture above them.

“Oh wow, so that’s what I was smelling! Where did this come from?”

Instead of answering, Dave scooped up a pancake-like glob of sweetness from one of the boxes and pushed it toward Stone’s mouth.

Stone raised an eyebrow, but gave in and let Dave feed it to him. The caramel blended with the smokey scent of Dave’s fingers as they danced near his lips. He laughed as Dave stuffed the whole thing in, caramel now running down Stone’s chin. The vision of the balcony was subsiding.

“Oh mm ‘od, watch it!” Stone muttered with his mouth full. “But mmmm, okay, this is fucking good.”

“I know! And there’s more. While YOU were out there daydreaming on the balcony I was downstairs raiding the cafe. Look -- I got fish, french fries or chips or whatever they call them here. These weird ball things – I think they’re actually meat. And cheese, of course. And beer! And . . . more cheese.”

Dave looked proud while Stone finished the stroopwafel and surveyed the lavish scene.

“I don’t even know where to begin!”

After a failed attempt to nestle themselves on the bed amongst the teetering piles of food, they scooted the other twin bed up against the first, creating a large area to spread out on. They both sat on the beds, in their robes, ready to indulge.

“Sparkling wine, too?” Stone gasped, realizing Dave had totally gone all out.

“Do you think we should invite the others?” Dave asked.

But Stone had already dug in, the vision of the balcony now totally forgotten, forced away into a small corner in his mind while he replaced it with the warm comfort of the spread in front of him. He picked up one of the strange balls of meat, dipped it into a cup of yellowish sauce next to it, and took a bite. “Whatever this is, it’s really good too. The sauce is like, sweet mustard or something. Here, YOU try it.”

And to pay Dave back for smooshing the stroopwafel into his mouth, Stone pushed the remains of the meatball against Dave’s lips.

“Mmmph!” Dave cried as it crumbled into pieces, only a small portion of it actually making it to the intended destination.

But the mustard sauce was still on Stone’s finger.

“Wait, this goes with it!” and he held his finger out towards Dave.

Dave leaned forward, and took Stone’s long finger into his mouth, getting a taste of the mustard accompaniment. Stone felt the warmth of Dave’s breath, and then his tongue along the bottom of his finger. He sucked the length of it gently, moving down, getting all the mustard, but then suddenly stopped. He glanced up at Stone, and abruptly pulled his mouth off, making a slight popping sound.

They were both quiet. They hadn’t been touring together for very long. This was their first trip sharing a room. They still barely knew each other.

“Umm,” Stone cleared his throat, then laughed abruptly. “So, it’s good, right!”

“Definitely . . .” Dave finished off the meatball.

The room suddenly felt very quiet.

“I wish we could stay here longer . . .” / “I wonder what Madrid is going to be like!” They both began talking in unison.

“Ha ha, okay, you first,” Stone giggled, picking up another piece of cod.

“Yeah, I was just going to say, Amsterdam is great. I wish we could stay here longer.”

“Oh I know . . . just as long as Eddie doesn’t get lost again! I didn’t think he was going to make it back in time.”

“He just wanted a joy ride with that girl. You know it. And she was cute.”

“Wine?” Stone popped open the sparkling wine and took a swig. He handed it to Dave, who did the same. They began breaking the various cheeses into bite-sized segments. They continued to gorge on the cod, and the meatballs and mustard sauce. They even discovered strips of herring buried under the chips that Dave had almost forgotten about. Finally, they both sat back to rest.

“That was fucking perfect,” Dave said.

“Absolutely,” Stone agreed.

They were quiet again for a few moments, but this time the room felt warm and comfortable.

“So are you afraid of heights?” Dave asked.

“No,” Stone blinked at him. “Why?”

“The way you reacted to the balcony. I just figured . . .” Dave shrugged.

“No . . .” Shit. The vision again. “It wasn’t the height that upset me. It’s just . . . “ Stone leaned back against the wall, which was covered in a velvet fleur-de-lis wallpaper. “It’s just that this is all going . . . really well. Look at this room. This food. I mean, we’re actually . . . touring Europe.” Stone squinted and gazed toward the balcony door again. But he was looking beyond it. He was looking somewhere way beyond the room.

“Hell yeah. It’s great!”

“But don’t you ever feel like . . .” Stone stopped himself. He shut his eyes and made himself laugh. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

“No, what?”

Stone opened his eyes. Dave was leaning in toward him, and he suddenly looked impossibly innocent. How was it that Dave could have so much exuberance? So much faith in the tour, in the future, in their continued success? Stone remembered that feeling. He used to have it too. But now . . .

“I don’t know . . . maybe I feel like it’s going TOO well. Everything is so great with Eddie. Everyone is loving him. He’s getting better and better with every show. I guess I’m just afraid . . .”

Again he couldn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t say it out loud. Almost as if saying it would somehow unleash it, unleash the very horror that lurked in the back of his mind that he was trying to quell, that he himself would actually conjure it and cause it and history would repeat –

“I know! He’s totally great,” Dave cut in. “We’re all doing great – the whole band is getting better with every show. What are you afraid of?”

Oh man. How could he even begin to answer that? “It’s just . . . with everything going this good . . . I can’t shake the feeling that something horrible is going to happen.”

There. He said it.

And for a few seconds time seemed to stop.

But then he heard the bell of a bicycle from outside the window, and a fresh breeze brought in another waft of sweet smoke from down below. The ornate light fixture still shone and the velvet wallpaper was still soft against his back. Dave was still sitting across from him, his dark eyes full of concern.

“I feel like something is going to ruin it all.” Stone began fidgeting. “It wakes me up at night. And even onstage I get these moments of . . .” the word “terror” felt too melodramatic to say out loud, so he let a pause speak for him. “Of course, it doesn’t help that Eddie throws himself off balconies and risks his LIFE every night.”

Dave laughed and nodded in agreement.

“I mean, I know why it’s happening. Of course I understand why I get this feeling.” Stone slid down so that he was lying on the bed. He began tracing the fleur-de-lis pattern with his finger. He was suddenly talking more to himself than to Dave. “I mean, it’s obvious . . . I’m sure it’s just . . . because of what happened last time. With Andy.”

“Who’s Andy?” Dave asked. And then he yawned.

Stone sat up abruptly and stared at him. Who’s Andy? Had he heard that right?

“Oh!” Dave slapped his forehead. “Duh. I’m sorry. Your last singer, of course. I knew that. I totally knew that. And I know . . . what happened. I just didn’t connect the name . . . fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Wow. I just . . . have never heard anyone say that.” To his amazement, Stone suddenly found himself laughing. “It’s actually . . . refreshing.”

He lay back down, smiling at Dave, and reached out a hand. Dave grabbed it. Both of them looked up at the room around them, at the velvet walls and elegant lights. As they rested together, they commented on the sounds of the bikes on the cobblestone and the boats in the canal. They giggled at the smell of the smoke that twirled its way into the room, and tried to breathe it in deeply. They scraped the last crumbs from the boxes and bags and plates, and polished off the last of the sparkling wine. They wondered aloud what Madrid and Milan and Manchester were going to be like. Would the food there be as good as this?

And as they lay there, Stone carefully engraved a picture of the moment into his mind, complete with the sounds and the smells and the smile of his new friend on the bed with him. Who’s Andy. He couldn’t get the startling phrase out of his head. And he couldn’t believe it had made him laugh.

Maybe it was time to let it go.

Maybe it was time to stop worrying. Even if the balcony did collapse onto the cobblestone, even if the icy water did engulf him, even if none of this ended up working out, he would still have right now. This moment. This night. With Dave. With everything fucking perfect.

Maybe this moment was all that mattered.

******

#fanfiction #pearl jam fic #this is one i wrote early on #needed a lot of fixing #luckily it's just a one shot #stone gossard #dave abbruzzese #amsterdam

17 notes · View notes

peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

Tracing Time

Sunday, 15:48

Song: Glass Animals - Heat Waves

Sander starts as fingers snap in front of his face.

His focus returns slowly to settle on Emilie’s hand, where her dark skin is patchy with even darker pencil stains. His eyes skip up her arm and over her shoulder to her face, where she’s watching him with amusement. She’s sat with her back to the low stone wall across from where he’s slouched on the grass, legs stretched out in front of her and kicking against Gilles’s ass. They’re at the park, clustered together on a free patch of grass in the sun.

“You still with us, rocketman?” she asks.

“It’s Starman,” Thomas corrects, without once breaking his gaze away from his book, hazel eyes intensely focused behind his glasses. His long form is tucked so tightly from back to toe between two trees that Sander winced at the sight of him, but Thomas seems completely content.

Emilie pulls a face at Sander, as if he should also be annoyed that Thomas remembers this Bowie fact, and Sander huffs as he smiles.

Gilles rolls over onto their back and effectively dislodges Emilie’s feet from their perch atop their backside. “Either way, we can all agree you’re up in space.” They gesture at Sander, then leave their hand hovering in midair. Sander smacks it in a high-five just to watch Gilles shoot him a dark, unimpressed look.

“You didn’t hear any of the conversation we just had,” Emilie says, gentler than usual. “What were you thinking about?”

What a question. He doesn’t remember the last thing he’d been thinking about, or the first, but there are a few lingering snippets from in between. He remembers thinking about his project, worrying over the details he summoned in his head and telling himself he’d gotten it done and it was fine. He was thinking about the dream he’d had last night, where he’d been chasing a wolf through a forest and fell right down deep into a puddle, and how he’d woken up in the late morning damp not from drowning but from sweat. Then he’d gone back, at some point, to where his mind always goes.

“Just, where Robbe and I can go for dinner when he’s back.”

Gilles groans dramatically and Emilie sighs dramatically and Thomas smiles slightly, at them or at Sander or at whatever he’s reading, Sander isn’t sure.

“Dude, you are with your friends, you need to learn to daydream about your boyfriend on your own damn time,” Gilles complains, rolling over this time until they’re lying atop Sander’s feet, gazing up at him plaintively. Sander’s boots are bound to be a literal pain in their side, but Gilles gives no indication of it as they wrap their arms around Sander’s raised knee. “Love us.”

Sander snorts, wiggling the leg his friend is holding just to hear a whine of protest. “Sure.”

Emilie flips her cornrow braids over her shoulder and pops a crisp in her mouth. “So where are you taking him for dinner?”

Gilles snaps their head around to glare at her. “Don’t encourage him,” they complain.

“But it annoys you,” she says, “which amuses me.”

Sander bites down a smirk as Gilles’s expression flips into one of betrayal and they pull away from Sander to curse at her in rapid French. Emilie listens calmly, although her lips are also curved in amusement as Gilles’s tan cheeks darken further and puff out in frustration. Somewhere amidst the rant Emilie’s brows raise, and then she responds to Gilles smugly in the same language, with what Sander knows is only slightly less fluency. He could understand most of the interaction if he wanted to, but instead he just absorbs words here and there and meets Thomas’s eyes before pulling a face.

Thomas’s lips quirk in response, and he gives a tiny shake of his head. He gestures subtly between their arguing friends and then makes a heart shape with his hands, mouthing ‘sickening’ for Sander’s eyes only.

Or so they think, until Gilles raises their voice and returns to Flemish to warn, “I saw that, Aarden.”

Thomas just blinks his eyes innocently, and Gilles scoffs as Sander snorts again.

“Can we come with you to the station?” Emilie asks suddenly, and Sander looks to her to find that she’s already staring back with her damn puppy eyes.

Nice try, he thinks. He’s immune to those by now. There’s only one set of doe eyes that still gets to him, and they know it. Well, maybe two, but Lucas is basically a Dutch Robbe and doesn’t count, really.

Emilie tries anyway, expression completely innocent as she pushes, “You are going to the station to meet him, right?”

Sander narrows his eyes. They know he is; of course he is. There’s no point in being apart from Robbe for longer than necessary. But he’s not going to say this out loud for them all to start up again.

“Come on,” Gilles whines again. “You can’t let him encroach on all our friend time and then not let us encroach on your Robbe time. And you never let us meet his friends! Who are also your friends!”

“We basically know them already from how much he talks about them,” Thomas points out, rather neutrally.

“Exactly! He talks about them all the time and I don’t even know what they look like. That’s a crime, Sander, a crime! Especially if they’re hot!”

“Shouldn’t matter, considering they’re all taken.” Sander raises a brow.

Gilles makes a ‘pshaw’ sound. “I don’t mind just joining in.” They wiggle their brows pointedly at Sander, then wink, and Sander finally lets out a full laugh. Thomas makes a disappointed noise and Emilie mock gags, but Gilles simply butt-scooches across the grass and tosses an arm around Sander’s shoulders, pinching Sander’s cheek with the same hand. “There it is,” they say, triumphantly.

Sander rolls his eyes. Warmth filters into his cheeks, and he blames it on the pinch. “I’m always laughing at you, you need to stop thinking of it as a reward.”

Emilie slides down enough that when she stretches her leg, her toes tap against Sander’s. “We just like seeing you happy. Accept it.”

“Your happiness is my favourite,” Thomas agrees. “Emilie’s is too smug and Gilles gets even more annoying.”

Gilles protests indignantly and Thomas finally blows them a kiss to settle them. Emilie accepts it with a small shrug while adjusting to trap Sander’s foot between her own. Sander simultaneously zones it all out and sinks into the warmth creeping around him that has nothing to do with Gilles pressed against his side. (Well, it’s maybe a little to do with it, but because of the easy affection, not the body heat.) Gilles is like Sander in the tactile sense, giving touch freely and yearning for it just as much. But whereas Gilles uses it to joke around and often gets shoved away for their efforts, Emilie is frequently offering Sander the comfort of some casual contact and Thomas always allows Sander to lean against his side or overlap their legs where he shies away from the others. It’s a small thing on the long list of reasons that he loves these three people, but it warms him every time.

He knows it’s likely influenced by the fact that he’s the younger one in the group. That even though Gilles and Emilie are barely a year older than him and Thomas almost a year older than that, he’s the baby of the group. It’s a sharp contrast to spending time with Robbe’s friends, and Sander has found he likes being able to bounce between the two dynamics.

Even though none of the youngins treat him anything like an adult, he thinks petulantly. Except, possibly, Aaron.

He’s known this group for longer, however, all of them since his first two weeks in the Academy. It just took a while for them all to gel together into the close-knit framework they are now, and Sander has gotten over the fact that it took them all rallying around after one of his episodes to make it so.

He was grateful they were there then, and nothing has changed.

Still. “I have to go if I want to be there in time to meet them,” he sighs.

Cue more dramatic, petulant groaning.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to just walk with you?” Thomas questions, tilting his head up to follow Sander as he gets to his feet.

Sander grins. “Always the gentleman.” Thomas flushes and stammers slightly and Sander huffs, shaking his head. “No, I’ll be fine. Can’t let this one get too close or someone might get infected.” He reaches down to tug Gilles’s hair.

Gilles releases Sander’s leg from where they’d been clinging on like a child to slap his ass, smiling brightly when Sander jolts and curses. “Fuck you too,” they say cheerfully.

Sander allows one last laugh before grabbing the strap of his bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder. He winks at Thomas and pauses by Emilie to lean down and kiss her head, allowing her to kiss his cheek in return before saying his goodbyes. They all call after him, Emilie throwing in a few woots and suggestive teasing while Gilles shouts dramatic terms of endearments until Sander flips them off. He hears their laughter as he gets farther away and doesn’t bother hiding his own smile, shaking his head fondly as he slips his phone out of his pocket to check for messages.

There’s nothing new, Robbe having been silent after telling Sander they’d made the train and what time they would be back, allowing him uninterrupted time with his friends. He wonders if Robbe had been busy with his as well, or if he’d spent most of the journey in his own world. If the couple was anyone but Lucas and Jens, Sander would assume the latter, but it’s more likely the two kept Robbe tied in with their bickering. His smile widens at the thought.

He makes it to the station before the train gets in, and simply takes out an earphone as he leans against the wall so he won’t miss their approach. He still ends up lost in his thoughts to the point that he only sees Robbe when he’s already weaving his way towards him.

Robbe doesn’t barrel into him or squeal or jump into his arms; they aren’t that bad. But he does neatly sidestep everyone without a single glance and sidles right into Sander’s space when he’s close enough, smiling his brilliant smile and leaving Sander’s heart shaking and stuttering.

He pushes away from the wall and they reach for each other at once, his arms engulfing Robbe’s waist as Robbe’s fingers slide into his hair and pull him down into a kiss. Sander hums, smirking slightly against Robbe’s lips when the boy shivers at the vibrations. He doesn’t let himself get entirely lost in it, not in the crowded public space, but he allows himself to indulge a little more than he usually would. He holds Robbe flush against him and sucks Robbe’s bottom lip between his own and swallows the surprised, pleased little noise he gets in return.

“Aww, it’s great to see how much you missed us.” Lucas interrupts them loudly, and Sander drops his head to Robbe’s shoulder with a bit-off groan, ignoring Robbe’s quiet giggle. “You know, all three of us, who I’m sure you’re here to see.”

Sander drags his head up to look over Robbe’s shoulder, immediately catching sight of Lucas’s shit-eating grin where he and Jens have joined them. Sander responds, very simply, with, “Fuck you.”

Lucas’s grin merely widens, and he steps away from Jens’s side long enough for Sander to pull him into a quick hug. Robbe leans back against the wall in his place, shaking his head as Lucas kisses Sander’s cheek with his cheeky smile still in place.

“One of these days, he’s not going to let you get away with that,” Jens warns, though he’s smiling as he tucks Lucas back under his arm. He clasps Sander’s hand in greeting as Lucas scoffs.

“I think he always will,” Lucas decides, tilting his head at Sander. Sander flicks his forehead, amused when Lucas is a few seconds too late in his attempt to bat him away. “And he deserves it. Asshole,” he complains.

Sander blows him a kiss and ignores Jens’s noise of protest. Then his attention is easily diverted once more as Robbe grips his arm and gives a small tug. Sander falls back next to him and immediately looks over, but Robbe just presses a kiss to his shoulder before resting his cheek there. He’s wearing his earring today, and he’s careful not to smush it between them. Sander would rather have it between his teeth.

“I missed you,” Robbe sighs. He wrinkles his nose and gestures at his friends before leaning up close to Sander, to make his stage-whisper that bit more dramatic. “They’re so gross.”

Jens immediately gapes, as they both knew he would, while Lucas simply shakes his head, resigned to what’s to come. “Bullshit,” Jens protests. “And even if it was true, you don’t get to comment, because I have been putting up with this—“ he gestures between the two of them “—for way longer already. And you are the epitome of gross.”

Lucas winces, nodding slightly. “He does have a point.”

“You’re disowned,” Robbe tells him, offended.

Sander huffs. “He’s an asshole, is what he is.”

Lucas places a hand on his chest and, in the most deadpan tone he can manage, says, “I am a fucking delight.”

Jens snorts.

Then Lucas gapes and pointedly steps away from him.

This is exactly what Sander loves about them. The pointless banter, the predictability stemming from familiarity, the easy camaraderie that bounces between them. He hadn’t thought about wriggling his way in with Robbe’s friends when he’d first sought the boy out; he hadn’t cared. But since they got together, he’s been constantly feeling the need to try. He doesn’t want to be a part of Robbe’s life separate to all the rest, and he’d recognised that fairly quickly, but had gotten lucky with Milan.

The others all took to him with their own enthusiasm, which he was relieved about, but like everything else in his life, it took a little more time.

To have this now feels like a blessing. But he marvels, once again, about how Robbe has been his one and only surety from first sight.

It makes him tug the boy closer as Jens goes about placating his own boyfriend; of course, at Sander’s expense. “Chill, we all know he’s actually the asshole.” He waves a hand, giving Sander a lopsided smile.

Sander smirks at him. “Jesus, stop flirting, so obsessed with my ass.”

“Nope, lost your chance, you were hotter as a blond,” Jens immediately snarks back.

Now Sander is the one placing a hand on his chest, jaw dropping, as Robbe makes a sound somewhere between admonishment towards Jens and comfort for Sander. Lucas tilts his head and gazes at Sander critically. Sander zeroes in on this reaction and jabs a finger at him. “You better not agree with him when you clearly have a thing for brunets.”

Lucas purses his lips, then rubs his hand over them to wipe away a smile. “Yeah, but, not everyone can pull off the bleached look like you do.”

“But you still think I’m hot now, right?” Sander presses.

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

Sander makes a triumphant noise as Jens tosses his hands up.

“I’m literally right here,” Jens reminds Lucas.

Lucas shrugs. “You flirted with him first.”

“I did not flirt, you know that is not my flirting.”

“Okay but then, what is your flirting?”

Robbe clears his throat, finally picking his head up off Sander’s shoulder to blink his doe eyes at all of them, lips quirked up adorably after listening silently to their bickering. “Hey, guys? Yeah, as much as I’ve enjoyed listening to this the past couple days, I’m fucking starving. Can we at least continue this somewhere with food?”

Jens immediately abandons his argument to nod, setting a hand on his stomach as if suddenly realising his own hunger. “Something greasy.”

“Then sweet,” Lucas requests, molding himself to Jens’s side again.

Sander tilts his head back to sigh at the ceiling, acknowledging the fact that his idea of a romantic dinner with Robbe has just been thwarted. Then he picks up Robbe’s bag and slings it over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s nose. “Fine, but Robbe chooses.”

Robbe beams at him and takes his hand again, then immediately starts to tow him away.

As always, Sander lets him.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sobbe #robbe x sander #rosander #van der stoffels #sander season #tracing time #gilles uses he/they pronouns #they all bow down to emilie #thomas is really just a gentleman #thomas aarden #emilie de vries #gilles visser

56 notes · View notes

sweet-by-and-by · 3 years

Text

First Kiss- Rarepair Week Day 1

summary: Mary-Beth is forever nose-deep in a romance novel, daydreaming of knights and lords and ladies in kind. Tilly is determined to help her see the story that's right in front of her. pairing: Mary-Beth Gaskill x Tilly Jackson a/n: An already late entry for Rarepair Week! Give me the AU where Tilly and Mary-Beth run away and grow old together in some cabin far away pls ❤️

AO3

The relentless sun of Lemoyne beat down on the awning, casting hot shadows on the girls’ tent. While the shade was a welcome respite, it did little to ease the discomfort of the humidity that hung thick in the air.

“I swear, I never thought I’d feel heat like this once I linked up with Dutch. I’ll take deserts any day over this soupy air!” Tilly complained, huffing as she scrubbed some filthy shirt against the washboard. Much to her dismay, she was Grimshaw’s favourite choice for laundry duty. It was either her ability to get out any stain, or Karen’s distinct lack of effort when it was her turn in the washbasin.

“At least we ain’t freezin’ to death on top of those mountains,” Karen remarked, wincing from the sharp prick of her needle poking through her mending.

Tilly grunted in response, standing to pin the now clean shirt on the clothesline. “At this point I’m almost missin’ those mountains. If it ain’t the smell of those awful sweaty men, it’s the damn dust in their shirts! This water has no business being so red after this little washing.”

Their conversation was interrupted by shouts from John, beckoning for Karen to take over on guard duty. She perked up at his call, a smile growing wide as she abandoned her sewing and bolted towards her posting.

“You’ll get it all done, you always do!” Karen called over her shoulder as she passed off. Tilly frowned at the lack of remorse in her voice, though she couldn’t blame Karen. Even standing guard in the hot sun would be better than mending all afternoon.

“You best take over for her before Grimshaw notices,” Tilly said, nudging Mary-Beth beside her. She was perched on a crate, nose deep in a book. The motion startled her, making her jump slightly as she was pulled from her thoughts.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking frazzled as she returned to reality, “Is it Karen’s turn on guard duty already?”

Tilly smiled at Mary-Beth’s expression, shaking her head to clear her thoughts of how adorable she looked. Mary-Beth picked up Karen’s mending, thrown haphazardly on the endless pile of shirts and pants to be fixed.

“I have no clue why Grimshaw even gets her to do this,” Mary-Beth tutted, examining Karen’s work. “Her stitches are more fit for a wound than anything wearable!”

Tilly chuckled in agreement, returning to her washing to focus herself. They worked side by side, slowly making their way through the afternoon’s chores.

“So what you been reading?” Tilly asked, sneaking a quick peek at Mary-Beth. Her hair was pulled back in her usual half bun, her curls slowly dissipating from the humidity. The sight of her lips pursed as she worked away had Tilly looking down quickly, thoughts running away from her as she wondered what they would feel like against her own.

“Oh, just the usual,” Mary-Beth replied, still focused on her sewing. “Some silly romance where the big strong hero whisks his Princess away.”

“Sounds enthralling,” Tilly chuckled.

“It can be! This one’s about a servant girl who falls in love with the Earl, who desperately wishes he could leave his title behind and run away with her. It’s a story I’ve read a thousand times, but it gives me the chills every time! Ain’t it just the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard? Someone wanting to give up a life of riches and luxury just to be with you?”

“That’s ‘cause these rich Earls ain’t never lived without those luxuries. I give him one week of scrubbing his own shirts before he runs back to his mansion with his tail between his legs,” Tilly scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Sometimes you have to leave the details for real life,” Mary-Beth retorted, smiling to herself, “even if it means looking past some things.”

Tilly hesitated for a moment, unsure of herself. “What keeps you reading those things if you think they’re so silly?” she asked.

“I think it’s the idea behind the silliness,” she said thoughtfully. “Sometimes they’re wrapped up in some ridiculous circumstance, but the thought that someone out there cares for you enough to cross oceans or abandon their riches? Well, I guess I just want to believe that a love like that can be real. I know you and Karen laugh at me for always reading these, but they make our dull days seem so much more promising.”

“Of course it could be,” Tilly said. She frowned at the woman’s response, leaving her washing to sitting back on her heels and look up at the brunette.

“Just not for us, huh?” Mary-Beth joked, her tone forcefully light as she dismissed her ideas. “Who would love some poor little thief like me?”

“I do,” Tilly blurted, the words rushing out before she could stop herself. Her face fell when realization hit her, and she felt her face grow hot in embarrassment. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it close lest she say anything else.

Mary-Beth straightened in response, her gaze rising to meet Tilly’s. Their eyes locked, surprise colouring both of their faces. Mary-Beth flushed a deep red to the tips of her ears, breaking Tilly’s stare to flutter her gaze down at her book.

“Besides,” Tilly said, voice tight as she collected herself, “even if we do sometimes tease you for ‘em, we turn right around and read them ourselves.”

“You do?” Mary-Beth asked shyly.

“Sometimes,” Tilly admitted. “It makes you so happy, even though you feel so stupid for not thinkin’ it’s stupid!”

Mary-Beth laughed, her face splitting into a smile as the sound chimed like bells. “It’s such nonsense! And this one is particularly idiotic.”

“Do you think...I could borrow it when you’re done?” Tilly asked, turning shy.

“Of course!” Mary-Beth answered.

“Just...don’t tell Karen.”

Mary-Beth sunk to her knees where Tilly was perched by the washbin, setting her book aside as she reached out. She slipped her hand into Tilly’s, the softness of her skin making Tilly feel warm.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Mary-Beth assured. Her eyes sparkled even in the shade, her emerald green irises shining with glee.

She pulled her hand away, stopping when Tilly squeezed softly. Fingertips grazed against calloused palms, worn from long days of work but still soft and delicate.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you’ll find your big strong hero to whisk you away,” Tilly blushed, forcing herself to hold Mary-Beth’s gaze.

“I’m not so sure I need one,” Mary-Beth said, holding Tilly’s hand tight. “I think there might be somethin’ even better sittin’ right in front of me.”

Tilly’s heart swelled, the response making her brave. Before she could think, she found herself leaning in.

Mary-Beth’s lips parted in a silent “O”, her eyebrows raising to her hairline as Tilly leaned close. Their lips met, the soft graze of skin against skin left them both wanting more. Mary-Beth returned the kiss, reaching up to pull Tilly close with a hand on the back of her neck.

The sound of Copper barking shocked them back into reality, both girls stiffening as they came back to. They pulled apart quickly, feeling exposed and embarrassed. Tilly fussed with her skirts while Mary-Beth grabbed her book from the ground, clutching it to her chest.

They looked at each other nervously, unable to contain their smiles even so. Mary-Beth looked around anxiously, searching for signs that they had been caught. No one seemed to be looking their way, and the two girls eased slightly though their hearts still hammered away.

Mary-Beth took Tilly's hand once more, squeezing again in silent assurance. Neither wished to be the first to move.

With the understanding that they would figure this out later hanging wordlessly between them, they reluctantly returned to their chores before Grimshaw could scold them. A long afternoon of secret smiles and hushed giggles lay ahead.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #mary beth gaskill #marybeth gaskill #tilly jackson #mary beth gaskill/tilly jackson #tillybeth #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #rarepair #rarepair week #my fic

29 notes · View notes

squidproquoclarice · 3 years

Text

Yeehawgust Day 25: Parched

March 1911

Sisika Penitentiary, Lemoyne

Unfortunately, twelve years wasn’t quite enough to make sure that anyone who’d been here during his first stay here in Sisika had hopefully moved on. There weren’t that many of them left, but there were enough to recall and recognize him--the distinctive scars sure as shit didn’t help that.

They remembered him, and mostly they remembered the spectacular prison break that John Marston’s friends had pulled back then, Arthur and Sadie pulling off the damn near impossible and doing it behind Dutch’s back besides. He could have told them, Don’t bother, they won’t be coming for me this time. Arthur and Sadie wouldn’t, couldn’t, know.

But they took no chances, and so his time as a guest of the government was spent mostly in this small stone-walled cell with no window. He could tell when it was hot out, because he started to feel like an unfortunate loaf of bread in a hot oven, until he was so parched he would have done just about anything for more water. He could tell when it was rainy, because the walls would grow damp. That meant, as far as he could figure, that there was an outside wall there, for all the good it did him. He hadn’t seen the sun in--he didn’t know how long.

He hadn’t seen Jack and Abigail in even longer. Back then, bad as Sisika was, he’d at least had work detail, backbreaking as it was, to keep his mind off things. He’d never been the sort to sit and daydream and get lost in his own thoughts like Arthur. But there was no world around him now to occupy him, and no world inside his mind to retreat to safely, so all that he had was the numbing passage of time without measure or meaning. Nobody beat or shouted at him like they had then. They just ignored him and left him in this dark lonely cell, and oddly, that felt curiously even more painful to endure. He would have killed to hear Abigail’s laughter, Jack’s chatter about those endless stories of his, even Uncle’s bullshit. The murmur of the guards out in the hall was the closest he got to knowing that other people existed most of the time.

He’d come to live for the times they shoved a tray of food through the window, or the door swung open so they came in and left him with a bucket for washing, or took his bucket of piss and shit away. It proved he hadn’t gone completely crazy in here.

He’d known the outlaw life would catch up with them someday, known the good couldn’t last, because that was how the world was. He expected a hemp-rope necktie soon enough. He’d delayed and escaped it for years already. He’d escaped Sisika then, when he probably shouldn’t have, and some part of him felt like there was a piece of him that had never left. Like he’d just picked right back up where he’d left off then. But he didn’t know what they’d done to his wife and his boy, and that was the thing that gnawed at him.

He’d failed them again. Like he’d been failing them all these years, ever since Abigail joined the gang and he’d been drawn to her laughter and smile and her bright blue eyes and her lousy, earnest attempts at cooking. He’d never quite done right by her. Never quite done right by Jack either, much as he wanted to, but he always seemed so far out of reach.

At least this time would be the last time he’d fail them. There was that much grace to the whole thing.

He heard the jingle of keys in a guard’s hand, the click of them turning in the lock, and then the screech of metal in need of oil as the heavy door swung open, letting in far too much light compared to the dim beam of it through the door slit. Time to give him a bucket of water and a bar of soap again? God, he could use it. He couldn’t smell himself, but he felt the filth on his skin.

Closing his eyes against it, feeling as blind and grubby as a mole, he recognized the voice of Agent Ross. “Well, Mr. Marston, it’s your lucky day. I’ve got a deal to offer you that I’m sure you’ll be interested in accepting.”

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2021 #rdr2 #john marston #fic from the parking lot #writing

16 notes · View notes

littlestarofthewest · 5 years

Note

Gahd I love your kinky fics!! Pls can u do one with a younger femreader & arthur? Like they like each other but she's younger so he's hesitant to start but then just shows her how a man his age gets it done *wink wink* I'm not into the daddykink but I do like an age gap haha I know youve just done creampie (it was so daamn good!!) but pls pls creampie & dirty talk 🤤 how Javier opened her up....I can imagine Arthur loving that 😂 ps. Honestly best fics out there! ♥️ Thanks for the prompts again!

Thank you for all the love, dear

Also dedicating this to @emily-strange who had a very similar request (you two should talk xD). Sorry I kept you waiting for so long (since freaking December).

Title: Young Love | Word Count: 9352 | Rating: Explicit!!! (18+)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan & female reader | Tags: angst and fluff and smut

Arthur has no idea what it is that makes you so different. Back when he and John rescued you, you were just a young girl that needed help, and by now, he wishes he would still feel about you this way.

For months, Arthur tried to treat you like Mary-Beth or Tilly, a young girl that could very well be his sister. It’s just that you make it so hard for him. You’re not naive and silly like some 19-year-olds Arthur met, and although you’re more on the shy side, you still have a way of teasing him with winks and smiles that shouldn’t affect him as much as they do.

In the beginning, Arthur fell headfirst into your trap. He rescued you, after all, so you tended to stick to him, and Arthur let you. You were easy to talk to, with a hunger for knowledge and a good sense of humor, not easily offended when he spoke out of tune.

When it became clear that you would stay with the gang, Arthur and John taught you how to shoot, and you went on hunts with Charles. After a while, Hosea also allowed you to take part in little heists, Arthur always by your side to make sure you were safe.

It started then that he began to see you in a different light. You were smart and cunning, using your innocence to lure people in. Men, in particular, are unable to withstand your shy smile, and Arthur found himself to be one of them.

It’s not that you used it against him, but whenever you asked something of him, there was no way for him to say no. Soon, Hosea found bigger jobs for the two of you, calling you a great team. You ended up on the road a lot, often just the two of you.

Arthur did his best to act respectively, but you seemed so comfortable around him that you sometimes didn’t care much about decency. He got to see more of your long legs and your cleavage than was good for him, and you had no trouble touching him or sleeping closeby when sharing a tent.

Slowly but surely, Arthur got more and more enticed by you, and it got so bad that he dreamt about you in ways that were anything but decent. Soon, those dreams and reality blurred together, and Arthur found himself staring at you at the worst of times, imagining all kinds of inappropriate things.

Today, Arthur would give anything to not be in camp. It’s your 20th birthday, and since it’s your first one since you’ve joined the gang, Dutch announced a little celebration. Arthur gave you his present, a new hunting knife, early in the morning, and ever since then, he tried to stay away from you.

Now, Arthur‘s sitting on a log farthest away from the fire, nursing a beer in his hand. The others are going to town with whiskey and rum, the alcohol taking its toll. Karen is sitting on Sean’s lap, the two of them the loudest but not the best at singing along to the songs Javier plays.

Once in a while, Uncle chimes in with the banjo, causing some laughs. Soon, most of the gang is drunk enough to dance around the fire. John and Abigail do a surprisingly decent job, not arguing for a change, while Lenny tortures your feet.

Arthur can tell that you’re soldiering on, but while Lenny is kind and wicked smart, he’s still not the most skilled when it comes to dancing. When Hosea gets up from his seat, Arthur hopes that he might release you, and he actually claps Lenny’s shoulder.

“My dear boy, I fear you need some more practice before we can let you dance with the ladies.“

Everybody laughs, and you give Lenny an apologetic smile, but he just shrugs, not taking offense. Arthur’s sure Hosea will take over now, showing Lenny how to do a better job, but instead, he turns around.

“This lady deserves a decent birthday dance,“ Hosea says. "Arthur? Would you be so kind?“

All eyes dart to Arthur, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He loves Hosea with all his heart, but sometimes he would like to smack him.

"Arthur can’t dance,“ Sean blurts out, saying out loud what everybody else must be thinking.

Dutch laughs at the heartfelt announcement. "No see, there’s a big difference between not being able to do something and deliberately denying the world your gift.“

Arthur shakes his head, ready to disappoint both Hosea and Dutch, but then Hosea points at you. "Come on, you can’t say no to a birthday dance with this lovely young lady.“

That’s exactly the problem. You’re young, way too young for Arthur, and he can’t say no to you, not ever. Looking into your curious face, Arthur puts down the bottle and gets to his feet. Hosea pats his shoulder, and Dutch applauds as if they already watched a great show.

"Now watch and learn, gentlemen,“ he cheers.

Arthur does his best to ignore everybody else, his eyes focused on you. A tingling feeling rushes through his body the second he takes your hand, and he leads you away from the fire to have more room. Besides, it will be easier to talk to you without the others hearing what he says.

"I’ll have to put my hand on your back,“ Arthur warns you, wishing he could say something that would turn you away, but you just smile at him.

"It’s alright, Arthur,“ you say, amusement in your voice, "I know how dancing works.“

Arthur swallows hard when he puts his hand in place on the small of your back. You rest your hand on his shoulder, and just like so many times before, you have no problem with being near him. Taking a step forward, you close the gap between Arthur and you, and he feels like dying when your body presses warm against his own.

Counting in a whisper, Arthur tries to give you an idea when to start, and then you’re off. Although Arthur hasn’t danced in years, it all comes back to him now. Just like shooting a gun, it’s something you do without thinking. Lead by Arthur, you have no trouble following along, and some of the gang members even whistle and cheer.

By the time the song is over, Arthur has a hard time letting you go. Still pressed against him, your chest rises and falls with the exhausted breaths you take, your face flushed, and your hair a little looser and out of place from being swirled around. You look as if you and Arthur did something way more indecent than dancing, the picture searing itself into Arthur’s brain.

To make the torture complete, you smile at him as if he just hung the moon, going on tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Arthur.”

There’s clapping from around the campfire before Dutch and Hosea take turns telling stories about heists where their dancing skills were essential. When Arthur is sure that nobody focuses on him anymore, he takes the chance to sneak away, heading into the nearby woods.

On the first day at the new campsite, Arthur found a hidden arch in between two big trees that leads to a small meadow. He leans against a tree with closed eyes, filling his lungs with fresh evening air, trying his best not to think about the dance. Of course, he ends up thinking just about that, and especially about how you looked afterward.

“Arthur?"

Your voice draws Arthur out of his daydream. It’s not you in his imagination, but you’re really in front of him. "What?”

“I’m sorry,” you say in that timid voice you use when you think you did something wrong, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s alright.” Arthur pushes himself off of the tree. “Just didn’t think anybody knew of this place.”

“I found it a day after we made camp,” you say, twisting the fabric of your skirt with your fingers.

Arthur knows that it’s a habit of you that only shows when you’re nervous. He’s not used to seeing it when the two of you are alone.

“Is there something you need?” he asks, thinking that you might have some sort of problem.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say, still fidgeting with your skirt. “I know you’ve already given me a great present, but there’s something else I wish for, and you’re the only one I want to ask for it.”

Arthur’s heart pounds faster. It’s as if you know that he won’t be able to say no, and since you’re asking him in the middle of the woods, it’s probably something more than just a request for more shooting lessons. Still, Arthur can’t help himself. It’s you, after all, so he has to ask. “What is it?”

“In Mary-Beth’s novels, people always have these great kisses, but all the boys I’ve met were just-” You don’t finish the sentence, but Arthur has been a 19-year-old boy himself. They often aren’t that great with romance and tenderness.

You take a step towards Arthur, making his heart almost leap out of his chest. “I’m 20 years old now,” you continue with a sigh, looking up at him. “All I want is one real kiss. With a real man. Like you.”

Arthur can tell how hard it is for you to say this, your voice getting quieter with every word while the blood rushing through his veins becomes so loud that he can hardly hear you. Still, you manage to hold his gaze when he’s looking for words.

“Those are just books, ya know?” Arthur says.

It’s the wrong thing to say. You shrink like fruit in the hot sun, all hope draining from your face to be replaced by sadness. Arthur hates to see you like this, especially when he’s the reason for it. But what else can he say? It’s not his place to give you any kisses. The way he thinks about you is already shameful enough.

“You’re right,” you finally say, your voice near tears. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have asked.”

You turn around, and Arthur’s heart stands still. He failed you. After promising to protect you, he hurt you more than anybody else. And why? Because of stupid rules. It’s not like you’re asking for something terrible. Just a kiss. Just a favor from a friend.

“Wait,” Arthur says, the word barely more than a whisper.

You turn back around, and Arthur takes your hand, tugging just enough to have you come back to him. You look up to him, waiting for an explanation, but he knows he doesn’t have the words for this. Instead, Arthur cups your face with his hand, pulling you closer.

He feels like he’s drowning in your eyes, unable to stop now, so he leans in to close the gap between you. Arthur can hear you taking a shaky breath, his own chest feeling like it’s about to burst. He’s never considered himself a great kisser, but he tries to be gentle with you, knowing all too well what novels you’ve been reading.

At first, your lips barely touch, Arthur still giving you a chance to stop. Instead, you lean into it. Arthur puts his hand onto the small of your back the same way he did during the dance, drawing you in before pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Your hands come to rest against his chest, sending waves of heat through his body.

Arthur knows that this should be it. You got your kiss after all, but something deep in his soul keeps him in place. It kept screaming and clawing at him for months, telling him how much he wanted to be with you. You mentioning other boys kissing you awakened a horrible ache in Arthur, raging like a fire that consumes him.

Despite telling himself over and over that he can’t be with you, Arthur longs to have so much more with you. The thought that someone could take you away is killing him, forcing him to hold on to you.

Arthur teases your lip with his tongue, and you eagerly open up for him, giving him a sweet taste of what could be. His hand runs down from your face along your neck, touching soft, warm skin before it ventures deeper. Arthur caresses your side, his fingers trailing along the curve of your breast and down to your hip.

With his other hand moving down to the swell of your ass, Arthur pulls you even closer, deepening the kiss. Your hot tongue brushes against his own, the sensation so overwhelming that everything around the two of you blurs.

Arthur gets lost in your kisses, the warmth of your body, your scent, and all the promises your body makes, pressed against him like a second skin. His fingers claw into the flesh on your hips as he rubs himself against you, lust tightening his pants.

You let out a soft moan, and from one second to the next, the world shifts back into focus. Searing pain shoots through Arthur’s body as if hit by lightning. This isn’t one of his fantasies where he’s allowed to be with you. It’s real, and it’s you. A girl who deserves so much better than him.

Arthur steps away from you in a hurry, his tone harsh as he barks at you. “Go back to camp!”

You take a step toward him, reaching out. “But Arthur-”

“Goddamn, girl! Go back to camp, right now!”

Arthur’s never thought that he’d be able to even raise his voice when talking to you, but now he shouts, making you freeze on the spot. You stare at him for a few seconds before you finally come to your senses. You turn around and rush through the trees, running from him like a startled deer.

With a growl, Arthur turns around, punching his fist against the nearest tree at full force. He’d hoped the pain would drive out the thoughts about you, but even with his knuckles bleeding, it’s not enough. Memories rush into his mind, of you looking at him, talking to him, touching him.

Arthur remembers the dance with every detail, and even worse, the kiss you just shared. Usually, it’s a gift to see something and be able to draw it right from his memory, but now it becomes a curse. He’ll never forget the taste of your lips, the way you held on to him, how your body melted against his. In dark, lonely nights, he’ll remember that enticing sound you made when he pushed himself against you.

You didn’t shy away from his touches, and Arthur realizes with horror that you might have let him do even more. You asked him for a kiss, but that’s rarely where the stories end. Maybe, you would have wanted more. Maybe, you would have allowed him to have you, right then and there, on the forest floor.

With a grunt, Arthur frees himself from his pants, stroking his cock so hard that it’s more painful than pleasurable. The thoughts consume him, the memories of you so vivid as if you were still there.

It doesn’t take Arthur long to reach his peak, his cock throbbing, hot spurs of come shooting against the bark of the tree in front of him. Tucking himself away, Arthur watches as it trickles down. Out of control as he is, he could have done such horrible things to you.

Consumed by shame, Arthur walks back through the trees, a plan forming in his mind. If he wants to protect you, he can’t be near you until he’s ingrained it in himself that he can never have you. Arthur has to go - far away.

——–

You have a hard time focusing on your work, looking up again and again to sneak a peek at Arthur across camp. If you keep going like that, the water will be ice cold until you’re done washing all the clothes, and Miss Grimshaw will have your head. Still, you can’t keep yourself from doing it, almost like you need to have your fill of Arthur before he disappears again.

With a sigh, you remember the time after your kiss. In the morning, Arthur was gone, only Hosea knowing where he went. He didn’t come back for four weeks, and when he did, he avoided you at all costs. You barely got to see Arthur at all for about three months after that. He either was in his tent or out of camp altogether.

Over the last month, Arthur stayed more often and didn’t leave the second you showed up. You at least got a “good morning” out of him every day, and once in a while, you had brief conversations about the weather or the latest successful jobs of the other gang members.

You feel like it still might take quite some time before things could go back to normal, if at all. You don’t blame Arthur, though. You risked your friendship over a stupid crush, using his kindness to trick him into getting what you wanted.

Of course, you should have known that Arthur didn’t feel the same way as you. To him, you must be nothing but a stupid little girl that needs constant supervision and help. You asked Arthur for a real kiss from a real man, ignoring that you didn’t even come close to being a real woman.

After all this time, you still can’t forget how Arthur kissed you, giving you all that you wanted while you had nothing to offer in return. All you could do now is to apologize and beg Arthur for forgiveness.

With another sigh, you go back to scrubbing the laundry. When you carry the basket with the wet clothes through camp to hang them up to dry, Hosea and Arthur walk past you. You give them a quick nod, keeping up appearances for Hosea’s sake. Arthur looks up, and it’s the first time that you get to hold eye contact with him for more than a second.

“Mylady,” he says, his voice soft.

The two men keep walking without pause, but you almost trip, your heart pounding. It’s been so long that Arthur had a kind word for you, but the familiar greeting brings you right back into the time before the kiss when everything was alright.

Your eyes fill with tears, and you do your best to quickly blink them away, but when you begin to hang up the clothes, Mary-Beth walks over to you.

“Are you alright?” she asks, leaning over to get a better look at your face.

“Sure,” you answer, focusing on the laundry.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Mary-Beth looking over to Arthur. “I didn’t mean to say anything. After all, it’s your business if you get along with Arthur, but this? If he makes you cry in the middle of camp, I’ll have a word with him. I mean it.”

You’ve never seen Mary-Beth talking so fiercely, and usually, she adores Arthur. That she would pick a fight with him over you makes your heart melt.

“It’s not him, it’s me,” you explain. “I did something foolish, and Arthur is right to be angry at me. I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but please don’t say anything to him.”

“But the crying,” Mary-Beth insists.

“Happy tears,” you say, giving her a big smile. “I think it’s going to be alright again.”

Mary-Beth looks back and forth between you and Arthur before pulling out a handkerchief and giving it to you. “Fine. But if there’s anything you need, please tell me.”

“I will. Thank you, Mary-Beth. You’re the best.”

She blushes a little and finally walks away, giving you another chance to look over to Arthur. You almost get caught when he and Hosea come your way.

“Can we have a word?” Hosea asks you with a smile, and you almost drop the shirt you’re holding.

You can’t believe that Arthur would tell Hosea about the kiss, but you can’t think of anything else they would want to talk about. “Sure,” you say, your fingers playing with the wet fabric in your hand while your heart pounds so hard that you wonder if they can hear it.

“I’ve got some information about a rich couple that moved from the city into a cabin up north. Really secluded, good spot if you know how to live off the land,” Hosea explains, giving you a chance to breathe again. It’s about a job. Nothing more.

“And they know how to do that?” you ask.

Hosea smiles. “Not from what I hear. I want Arthur and you to go up there and check it out. You might be able to charm them, offer your help. Maybe you can find out if they still got more riches left in the city.”

“Or we could just rob them,” Arthur says, his voice barely audible, but Hosea nudges his elbow into Arthur’s side.

“Don’t act like the brute, Arthur. We both know you’re much more than that.”

You know that to be true, but Arthur just grunts as if he doubts Hosea’s words. You wish you could tell him otherwise, but you don’t even dare to look at him.

Hosea takes a piece of paper out of his jacket and hands it to Arthur. “That’s the place.”

Arthur studies what looks like a hand-drawn map while rubbing his beard. “I say we head out right now. If we make camp when it gets dark, we should be able to reach the cabin tomorrow by noon.”

You wait for Hosea to answer, but when he stays silent, you look up to find the two men looking at you, and you realize Arthur’s talking to you, not Hosea.

“Oh, sure,” you hurry to say, “just let me finish up here, and I’ll get my things.”

“Great,” Hosea says, “glad to have the two of you on this. I was worried I’d have to send Bill.”

He winks at you and walks away, leaving you alone with Arthur. You rack your brain what to say, but Arthur beats you to it. “I was kinda planning on wearing that again.”

You stare at him, drowning in his eyes until he nods to your hands. You’ve been wringing the shirt between your fingers, only now seeing that it’s one of Arthur’s. “Oh, of course. I just-"

You turn around on the spot, hastily going back to work. "I’ll meet you at the horses,” Arthur says behind you. His voice is warm, flowing down your back like a sweet caress. It tightens your chest how much you missed him talking to you.

“I’ll be just a minute,” you manage to say, only able to catch your breath once you hear Arthur walking away.

After finishing the laundry, you pack what you’ll need for the trip and say goodbye to the other girls. Mary-Beth gives you a wary look when she hears that you’re riding out with Arthur, but you give her a big smile to reassure her that you’re alright.

Not that you are. On the one hand, you’re looking forward to working with Arthur again, and the trip might finally give you a chance to apologize, but on the other hand, you’re nervous as hell. It’s been so long since you’ve been alone with Arthur, and he might still be angry with you.

With your heart almost beating out of your chest, you walk over to Arthur. He already saddled up your horse, checking if everything is in place on his own mare.

“Hey,” you say, trying to make him aware of you.

“You ready?” he asks, not looking up from what he’s doing.

“Yes, I am,” you say, and when he stays silent, you feel the need to keep him engaged. “Where are we even going?”

Finally, Arthur looks at you before handing you the map Hosea gave him. When you reach for the paper, your fingers brush over Arthur’s skin. It’s warm and so weirdly familiar that this brief touch tightens your chest again while Arthur gets back to his work.

You stare at the map, trying hard to level your breathing without Arthur noticing. Finally, Arthur pulls himself up on his horse. “Ready to go?” he asks, and you quickly climb onto your mare.

As you head out on the narrow path, you hold the map out to Arthur. He takes it back, his fingertips trailing over your skin this time. Arthur doesn’t react at all, but your body fills with heat, brought on by the memories that have been haunting you for months.

Your horse keeps pace with Arthur’s while your mind drifts off, remembering how everything started. At first, you were just thankful for Arthur saving you. Even in your short life, you had to learn that there were evil people in the world, especially men when faced with a young girl. Arthur was nothing like that.

Despite his own claims to the contrary, you can’t bring yourself to think of him as bad. He might be robbing people, but he doesn’t lay a finger on them. Just like he always respected you. At first, you thought of him as a good friend, a little bitter or sarcastic at times, but also funny, kind, and awfully sweet if he wanted to be.

Your feelings for him changed one day when Arthur helped you down from one of the wagons when the gang was moving camp. He waved at you with outstretched arms before lifting you down. You held on to his broad shoulders while his large hands closed warm around your waist. He set you down on the ground and smiled, having your heart pounding like crazy.

Maybe you’ve read too many of Mary-Beth’s books, hoping for so much more than there was, but everything changed after this moment. You found yourself staring at Arthur at all times, and somehow he turned from a friend to a man. You were always aware of his body and his voice, your body reacting to him in ways that often took your breath away.

After a while, you found yourself wanting more, and when Hosea sent you on all these jobs together, you even tried to seduce Arthur. Not that you had much experience on how to do that, but usually, a little naked skin and closeness does the trick for most men. Arthur didn’t react at all, not even when sleeping with you in the same tent, making you want him even more.

And then there was your birthday. The dance put a final nail into your coffin. There was something about the way Arthur held you, how he effortlessly made you follow him, and twirled you around. You wanted for him to do more, to take you like those confident men who swept the women off their feet in the books.

Arthur disappearing into the trees was a siren’s call to you, and when he walked to that secluded meadow, it seemed like fate. This could have been your fairytale, so you put up all your courage, offering yourself to him. You imagined it many times, but then Arthur kissed you in a way that was beyond your wildest dreams. You asked for a real kiss but never thought that it could be that good.

Despite Arthur’s anger, you still can’t fully regret what you did. Now that Arthur showed you how he feels, you have to make your peace knowing that you’ll never be with him. But no matter if you die alone or find another man, you’ll at least have the memory of one perfect kiss.

“Are you hearing me?”

Arthur’s voice only slowly reaches your ears, stopping you from wallowing in your memories. “What?”

“Let’s head for the saloon over there. They might have rooms.”

You stare in the direction of his outstretched hand, your mind racing. You planned to apologize to Arthur once you made camp, in the silence of the night. You won’t have a chance for that in a noisy saloon.

“But it’s still early,” you say. “We can make a few more miles until dusk.”

Arthur’s already steering his horse off the road. “We don’t have to. We already made more than half of the way. You’re better off with a real meal and a bed to sleep in.”

You bite your lip, hating that Arthur messes up your plan by looking out for you. It’s infuriating and sweet at the same time, the embodiment of Arthur.

After hitching your horses outside, you venture into the saloon. For such a secluded place, it has quite the amount of customers, even more so considering the early hour. You walk to the bar with Arthur, where he orders two whiskeys, but before you’re able to drink, he suddenly taps your shoulder. “Excuse me for a second. I know these men over there.”

He walks over to a table where a bunch of rowdy fellers play poker, leaving you with a burning sensation where he touched you. You make up for it by downing one of the two glasses in one go, contemplating to drink the other, too.

“Now, who would let a sweet girl like you drink alone?”

The high pitched voice behind you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve had men talk to you like this many times, but it hasn’t happened since you’ve joined the gang. When you were out, you always had someone like Arthur or Charles with you who kept idiots at bay without even trying.

“I’m not alone,” you say, trying to spot Arthur, but you’re suddenly surrounded by four men.

The one who spoke to you before comes closer, putting an arm up on the bar to box you in. “I don’t see nobody.”

“My husband will be back any second,” you say, hating how weak your voice sounds.

The man gives you a wide grin, presenting his half-rotten teeth. “He’s not here now, missy. Only you and us.”

He trails his fingers over your hand, and you react without thinking. Using the element of surprise, you duck below his arm, sidestepping another guy before he can grab you. Basically flying through the room, you reach Arthur, immediately clinging to his arm.

Both Arthur and the men at the table are staring at you in surprise, but nothing in this world could make you let go off Arthur now. “I missed you at the bar,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice is shaking a little.

Arthur takes a look at them, and his eyes narrow, a wild look appearing in them while you can see the muscles of his jaw clenching. He reaches into his pocket before turning back to the men at the table. “Anyway, I just wanted to pay back what I owe,” he says, handing a few dollars to one of the men, “no hard feelings, right?”

The man counts the money, a smile coming onto his face. “Of course, no hard feelings,” he says, sharing the money with the other men.

“Have a good day, gentlemen,” Arthur says, tipping his head.

As Arthur turns, he pries your hand away from his arm, prompting you to protest, but then he puts his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip as you walk back to the bar. Arthur orders more drinks and keeps standing so close that you can feel his body against yours.

“So that’s your husband, missy?” the man with the high voice asks from the other end of the bar, letting your blood run cold. You forgot to mention that little detail to Arthur.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asks, an edge to his voice that you know. It never ends well for the person he’s talking to.

The man sneers at him. “I’m talking to her.”

“You don’t talk to my wife,” Arthur says, the words making you shiver. Then he steps in front of you, shielding you from view with his whole body.

The two men stare at each other in silence, and you know that something terrible is about to happen. The man moves his arm, there’s a loud bang, and then he falls backward, blood trickling down his forehead. All eyes are on him as he collides with the floor, his gun slipping out of his hand.

Deep down, you seem to relive every lesson about shooting a gun that Arthur and John have given you. You step around Arthur, pulling his second gun out of its holster and pointing it right at the man’s face nearest to you. He stares down the barrel with wide eyes while Arthur trains his gun on one of the others. You know you’re outnumbered, but you won’t go down without a fight, and everybody in the saloon just saw that Arthur might be quicker than them.

The men look back and forth between you and Arthur, contemplating if they can take you. Before it can come to that, the poker players get to their feet, taking position behind you and Arthur. The man who took Arthur’s money rests his hand on his gun.

“The way I see it, your friend here was outta line. That’s really no way to talk to a married woman.” He looks around, and the other men in the saloon give small nods to agree with him. “I suggest you take him out of here and be on your way. We wanna play in peace, you understand?”

The men don’t move until Arthur slowly lowers his gun. You follow his lead, and the man in front of you steps back. They put their guns away to pick up the body and quickly make their way outside.

“Thank you,” Arthur says to the poker players, and the man who spoke just shrugs.

“Never liked those fellers anyway. You fancy a game?”

“No, we’ll better be on our way.”

“Suit yourself.”

The men go back to their game while Arthur puts his hand on your back, leading you outside. He unties the horses, constantly looking around.

“Why are we going?” you say, your heart still pounding from what just happened. “Wouldn’t we be safer with these guys?”

“These guys are only friendly for a prize,” Arthur says. “And the men who left was O'Driscolls. I bet they’ll be back in numbers. We don’t want to be here when that happens.”

Arthur gets on his horse and holds out his hand to you. “Come on.”

“I have my own horse.”

“I won’t let you ride alone when those guys might come up behind us.”

Arthur just shot a guy because he didn’t like the way he talked to you. It’s probably useless to argue with him now. You take his hand, and he lifts you up with ease. “Hold on,” he says, and you happily reach around his waist, pressing yourself against his back.

Arthur spurs on his horse, quickly bringing it into a gallop, barely giving you time to whistle for your own horse to follow. You ride hard until the sun begins to go down. Arthur checks both sides of the road to find a good spot for camp, and you end up on a hilltop. A few large boulders shield you from view while the higher ground lets you see for miles in any direction. There’s no chance that anybody could sneak up on you here.

You get a fire going, and Arthur sets up a tent while you try to make a decent meal out of the provisions you brought along. When Arthur is done, he sits down on his bedroll, and you hand him a steaming bowl.

“It’s not the decent meal you were talking about earlier,” you say, feeling guilty that Arthur’s plans got all messed up because of you.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Arthur says, bringing the bowl closer to smell its content. “I remember the great meals you used to make on our last jobs.”

You almost joke about that being a wife’s job, but while Arthur backed up your lie in the saloon, he might not find it funny. Instead, you eat your food in silence. When Arthur’s finished, he takes out his journal and writes, leaving you to stare into the fire. Everything is so nice and peaceful, you’re not quite sure if you should apologize to Arthur at all. What if that only rips open old wounds?

Sneaking a look at Arthur, you can see the difference in how he moves his pencil. He’s no longer writing but draws something. You tell yourself that it’s none of your business, but you’ve always loved Arthur’s art, and you are one of the few people he sometimes shows it to. Hoping that this might be something you can talk about, you crawl over to Arthur.

“What are you drawing?”

Arthur puts the pages together for a moment, looking like he’s embarrassed, but then he opens the journal and hands it to you. The drawing shows a campfire with a woman sitting in front of it, staring into the flames. You.

“You’re so good at this,” you say, your eyes fixed on the page.

“Good at something useless,” Arthur grunts.

You have to disagree. It’s still a mystery to you how someone can capture life and emotions with a pencil and paper. The woman in the drawing looks lost, though. You won’t be able to just forget what happened, you have to talk to Arthur.

Putting down the journal, you take a deep breath. “Arthur, I’m sorry.”

He studies your face for a long moment, deep in thought. “Sorry for what?”

“The kiss,” you blurt out before you lose your courage. “You’ve always been such a good friend, and I took advantage of that. I asked you because I knew that you wouldn’t say no. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Arthur says, and you feel like hitting him for taking any of the blame.

“You were right to be angry. I should have known that you’d never feel the same way about me.”

Arthur takes a deep breath as if it’s hard for him to say the following words. “If you was a little older, or I was a bit younger-”

Arthur trails off, but your heart is already pounding. You thought that Arthur doesn’t feel anything for you, but here he is, drawing your picture and worrying about your age, not angry about the kiss at all.

“I thought you didn’t like me, Arthur.”

“Jesus, girl,” Arthur huffs, almost amused, “of course I like you. You’re right out perfect. It just doesn’t matter what I feel. It’s just not right.”

“It matters to me,” you say, your voice breathless as hope blooms in your heart, “I don’t care about the age difference.”

Arthur’s lost for words for a moment, but then he shrugs. “It’s not just that. You deserve way better than me.”

Usually, you’re not one to get your way. You accept what others tell you and move on, putting their wishes above yours. This can’t be one of those times. It’s too important, and you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try everything to be happy.

“I might be young, but I’m not naive or stupid. I know that you’re not perfect, but neither are the ranchers who hurt their cattle or the merchants who draw up the prices when the poor can barely pay them,” you say, talking yourself into a frenzy. “Unlike those fancy dressed crooks in the big city, you are so much more.”

Arthur lifts his hand as if to interrupt you, but for once, you don’t let him, continuing your tirade. “I fell in love with you because you’re kind, funny, and caring. You’re not lining your own pockets, but do whatever you have to to help your family and even strangers. You don’t take pleasure from cruelty, but manage to ease other people’s misery and pain. You’re a good person, Arthur. I really don’t see how I could possibly do better.”

Staring at you out of big eyes, Arthur opens his mouth, but nothing comes out until he clears his throat, his voice still hoarse when he speaks. “In love?”

It’s unnerving that this is the one thing Arthur took from this, but you said it, and there’s no point in denying it. “Yes, I love you, Arthur,“ you say, shrugging your shoulders. "I’m old enough to know that I want to be with you. Not a better or younger version of you, but you just the way you are.“

Arthur drops his head, his eyes fixed on the flames in front of him. You would give anything to know what he’s thinking, but you won’t ask. You said everything you wanted to say, and if that’s not enough for Arthur, then there’s nothing you can do.

When Arthur looks back up at you, there’s an expression on his face you’ve never seen before. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, your heart racing in your chest. All you know is that whatever Arthur’s about to say next will decide your future together.

——–

Everything you said to Arthur is swirling around in his head, making him dizzy. For months, he tried to get over you, and Arthur only agreed to let you come along because he was sure he finally got his feelings under control. He should have known better.

What happened in the saloon showed Arthur how afraid he was to lose you, and calling you his wife, even as a ruse, made him happier than anything in a long time. After what you just told Arthur, the two of you can’t go back to things how they were before, and he has to admit that you’re right. You’re able to make your own decisions, and if you decided – for whatever reason – that you wanted to be with him, then who is he to take that away from you?

Arthur‘s heart sings at the mere thought of giving in. No matter his feelings of right and wrong, nobody can blame him for losing this battle, not if you’re sitting there, begging him with all that you have to allow the two of you to be happy.

When Arthur looks into your eyes, the longing in his heart grows so unbearable that he can’t take it anymore. He opens his arms, inviting you in. "Come here.“

You fly into Arthur’s arms without a second of hesitation, proving once more that he’s doing the right thing. Arthur pulls you into his lap, and you put your arms around his neck, making him look up into your beautiful face.

"I tried for so long,“ he says, defeat in his voice. "I can’t get you out of my head.“

Arthur trails his fingers along your cheek as you smile at him. "You’re not supposed to.“

He draws you in, and you follow, letting him kiss you. Arthur thought there could be nothing better than your first kiss, but nothing compares to this one. This time, there’s nothing bad or shameful about it.

You melt against Arthur’s body, your hands running through his hair while he holds you close, not wanting to let go ever again. Arthur wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, but you roll your hips, grinding against him.

"Arthur, I want you,” you say, looking at him in a way that makes his heart miss a beat, but then you cast your eyes down as if ashamed. “If you want me, too.”

Every impure thought that Arthur had about you rushes through his mind, and he has a hard time not to throw you down to the ground and have his way with you. After all, you deserve much better than that. He’ll respect your wishes, but he still feels like it’s his responsibility to protect you.

“Of course I want you,” he says, his words getting you to look at him again, “but we have time. There’s no need to rush anything.”

“Rush?” I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.“ You let out a little laugh before running your hand over your face as if you want to hide. "I even tried seducing you when we were alone, but you never seemed to care.”

Arthur can’t help that his mouth falls open, thinking about all those times he had to hold himself back. “You did that on purpose?”

“What do you think? I don’t just undress in front of everybody,” you say, playing with the buttons on Arthur’s shirt.

“You gave me such a hard time with that,” Arthur says with a sigh. “This is already bad enough.”

He’s holding you by the hips, feeling how you begin to move on top of him. “Then maybe I should try one more time,” you whisper.

You reach down to unbutton your dress, pushing down your chemise. This time, Arthur looks without reservation before leaning in and kissing the exposed skin. You bury your fingers in his hair, still rolling your hips, and Arthur has to admit to himself that you might not be as innocent as you seem. It makes no sense to treat you like a delicate flower when you’re actually the storm.

Arthur reaches down to hike up your skirt, his fingers trailing along the soft skin of your thighs. You hold still but reach down to help him, pulling your dress up right over your head. It takes a little fumbling, but it’s worth it. Having you sit on top of him in your thin chemise brings heat to Arthur’s whole body, and he can’t help that he’s getting painfully hard in his pants.

There’s a knowing grin on your face, almost as if you’re mocking him, and Arthur can’t take it anymore. He lifts you up and leans forward, carefully putting you down on his bedroll. Without hesitation, Arthur pulls up the skirt, and you wiggle under him, letting him undress you fully.

Arthur can’t remember having seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. In the dim light of the fire, your skin has a lovely glow, your body a perfect combination of straight lines and inviting curves. If he wasn’t so desperate to touch you, Arthur would have loved to draw you like this.

With his fingers, Arthur follows a line from your cheek along your neck, tracing your collarbone and climbing up the swell of your breast. Your nipple hardens under his touch, and Arthur can’t help but lean in and suck it into his mouth. You let out a surprised gasp, soon followed by barely audible moans when Arthur keeps teasing your breasts with both lips and hands.

You reach for him, eagerly pushing down his suspenders, and Arthur comes up for a moment to let you get him out of his shirt. Your eyes roam over his naked chest while your hands massage his muscles, coming to rest on his shoulders. You draw Arthur in, letting him kiss your breasts and stomach while your fingers dig into the skin on his back.

Arthur moves even lower, his hands closing around your thighs. You eagerly open your legs for him, giving him a first look at the sweet locks that cover your mount and lips. Arthur traces his fingers in a swirling line through them before touching your soft center. You gasp again when Arthur pushes between your folds, enticing wetness greeting him.

He wouldn’t mind teasing you some more, but you reach for him, beckoning him to come back to you. “Arthur, please.”

Arthur follows your plea, crawling over your body, his arms propped up next to your face. You pull him in for a kiss, your tongue licking into his mouth as if you might die without his taste. You keep him close like this while your hands wander down his chest and to his pants. You pry them open, getting hot waves to roll all over Arthur’s body.

The anticipation is unbearable, and Arthur moans against your lips when you finally close your fingers around his cock to get him out of his pants. Free from the enclosure, you reward him with slow strokes along his whole lengths, making Arthur bite his lip.

You soothe him with soft kisses, but you’re just as desperate, your hips moving under him. “Take me, Arthur, please.”

Arthur wishes he could show more restraint, but he’s dreamed about this way too often in too many ways to hold back now. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds, using your wetness to get himself slick as well, and when your fingers dig into his shoulders, Arthur pushes in.

You’re so hot and tight, he hopes he can keep this up and goes as slowly as he can. You still gasp in surprise, and more sighs and moans break out of you when Arthur conquers you inch by inch. Once he’s fully sheeted inside of you, Arthur holds still, enjoying the feeling of being close.

“You okay?” he whispers against your lips, and you take a deep breath before being able to reply.

“God, yes,” you sigh, rolling your hips again.

Arthur dares to move with you. You kiss, again and again, hands roaming over heated skin, while Arthur pushes into you at a steady pace. Your hands wander around Arthur’s neck, and soon you seem to hold on for dear life. With your breathing speeding up, Arthur knows you won’t make it much longer, and the harder he thrusts into you, the more desperate become your moans.

Leaning in to kiss and bite your neck, Arthur finally throws you over the edge. Your thighs shake as you come, your muscles clenching around Arthur’s cock. You cling to him, whispering profanities he never thought you capable of knowing, and it becomes harder and harder for him to hold back.

Still, Arthur tries not to overwhelm you, but you keep moving, spurring him on. “Please, Arthur. I want you, I want all of you.”

With your beautiful, young body moving under him in ecstasy, Arthur can’t hold back his lust. His fingers dig hard into your flesh as he buries himself deep in your hot core, filling you up with his come.

You’re both drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Arthur wishes he could ask if you’re alright, but he doesn’t have enough air. Instead, you share a few soft kisses. Despite that first wave of satisfaction, Arthur can’t stop touching you. His fingers trace over your smooth skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Arthur’s been thinking about being with you for so long, he feels as if he’s in a dream. He kisses his way down your body, and when his hands massage your thighs, you open his legs for him. Arthur trails his fingers over your soft lips, making you roll your hips.

Teased like this, Arthur can see how your muscles work, and his come is swelling out of you, trickling down. The sight steers something inside of Arthur. It’s as if he marked you, finally making you his.

He can’t help but touch you, and the urge to taste you as well overcomes him. Arthur leans in, running his tongue over your clit, and you let out a surprised moan. With his hands on your thighs, Arthur keeps teasing you with his tongue.

He doesn’t mind his own taste that’s soon replaced with yours, your moans and soft cries growing more urgent. The way you move under Arthur steers up his own arousal. Caught between your legs like this, he can’t hold in his own moans.

You bury your fingers in Arthur’s hair, lifting your hips and urging him on with pleas for more. He happily indulges you, teasing you with his fingers as well as his mouth until you let out a frustrated groan.

Arthur stops and looks up to you, and before he can ask if you’re alright, you already push him back by the shoulders. The second he’s on his back, you crawl on top of him, rubbing yourself against his hardening cock.

You lean in and kiss Arthur, taking heavy breaths in between. All he can do is hold on to your hips as you lift yourself up to push him inside of you again. Trapped in your tight heat, Arthur lets his head fall back.

He might have marked you today, but at this moment, Arthur knows that you did so long ago. Arthur’s been yours from the start, and that won’t ever change, not as long as you’ll have him.

———

You dreamed about being with Arthur many times, but none of it compares to the real thing. His every touch sets you on fire, waking a lust inside of you that you’ve never known before. Longing to be close, you keep kissing Arthur, your body pressed against his as you move your hips to feel him deep inside of you.

All of it still seems like a dream, and you have the urge to make the most of it, feeling and tasting Arthur, desperate to make as many memories of this moment as you can.

Your eager cries fill the night, mixed in with Arthur’s moans, the both of you too desperate to hold back. You claw and bite, leaving marks on each other’s skin. The thought of the other gang members seeing them turns you on more than you ever thought possible.

Now that Arthur finally agreed to be with you, you want everybody else to know. You kiss along Arthur’s neck and suck the skin between your teeth, biting down enough to make Arthur growl. His fingers dig hard into your hips, and he holds you in place while he thrusts into you.

Arthur’s cock hits you deeply as he slides in and out of you with lewd sounds, and from one second to the other, everything becomes too much. You bury your face against Arthur’s neck as you fall over the edge, waves of pleasure rolling all over your body.

You cling to Arthur, and he holds you tight, his hips bucking as you shake on top of him. He moans against your ear, filling you up with his come as your clenching muscles tighten around him.

For a while, you just stay like this, enjoying the warmth of Arthur’s body against your own. His fingertips trail softly over the skin on your back, and when your eyes threaten to fall shut, Arthur gets you to move.

After helping you into your chemise, Arthur carries you into the tent, and the second he lies down, you cuddle up to him. Arthur kisses your forehead and puts his arms around you as if he never wants to let go again.

You just lie there for a while until Arthur lets out a long sigh. “I fell in love with you, too, you know. Pretty much from the start.”

Warmth spreads in your chest, and you bury your face in the crook of Arthur’s neck. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

“Do me a favor then?” Arthur says, the words turning into a question.

“Anything.”

“Next time, just tell me right away what’s good for us. I’m an idiot most of the time.”

You laugh, but run your hand over Arthur’s chest as if to wash the thought away. “You’re my idiot now, so don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, darling,” Arthur says, squeezing you slightly.

You close your eyes, feeling safer and more comfortable than ever before in your life. Everything bad in your past just drifts away, making room for happiness and a future you only ever dared to dream about.

“You were right,” you say. “It’s just books. This was so much better.”

Arthur chuckles, and you fall asleep to the sound of it, the first time of many over the years to come.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #my writing #fulfilled request #emily-strange #Anonymous

554 notes · View notes