#arthur x reader

[millersgirl80]

Hiii i was wondering if i could send in a request for Arthur Morgan with (gn or fem) reader who loves kids and always helps Abigail with Jack around camp and talks about wanting a family of her/their own? (The rest is up to your imagination <3)

Together

Warnings: smut!

As the sun bathed the camp site of Horseshoe overlook, near valentine, in a warm, golden glow, you found yourself sitting by Abigail’s tent surrounded by the laughter and playful screams of her 3 year old son, Jack. On this particular afternoon, you were deeply engrossed in a game of hide-and-seek with him.

You darted behind a large oak tree, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you counted down the seconds. "Twenty... nineteen... eighteen..." Jack's tiny footsteps pattered across the grass, his giggles echoing through the campsite. Just as you reached "one," he jumped out from behind a nearby bush, his blue eyes wide with excitement.

"Found you!" he exclaimed, his small hands reaching out to tag you. You let out a mock-startled cry, falling to the ground in a dramatic display of defeat. Jack's laughter filled the air, his chubby cheeks flushing with delight.

"You're getting faster, Jack," you said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "One day, you'll be the best hider in all of Valentine."

As you played with the little boy, your heart felt light and joyful. You had always loved children, and being around Jack brought a sense of peace and happiness that you cherished. Little did you know, someone was watching you from a distance, his gaze fixed upon you with a mixture of emotions.

Arthur Morgan, a rugged and seasoned outlaw, had been observing you for quite some time. Arthur had seen the way you interacted with Jack, the tenderness in your touch, and the warmth in your smile. It was a side of you he had never witnessed before, and it intrigued him.

Unbeknownst to you, Arthur had been struggling with his own thoughts about the future. The life of an outlaw was harsh and unforgiving, and he often questioned his place in the world. As he watched you, a strange feeling began to stir within him—a longing for something more, something that could only be found in the love of a family.

After Jack's parents arrived to take him home, you bid them farewell, waving goodbye as they headed off. You started to pack up your things, unaware of Arthur's presence nearby. He had been leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his chest,contemplating whether to approach you.

"You sure do have a way with children,"Arthur said, his deep voice carrying a hint of surprise.

Startled, you turned around, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. "Arthur! I didn't know you were there. How long have you been watching?" A slight blush crept up your cheeks as you realized he had witnessed your playful side.

"Long enough," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "I've seen the way you are with Jack. It's... different."

You raised an eyebrow, curious about his choice of words. "Different, how?"

Arthur took a step closer, his eyes holding a mixture of emotions. "You're gentle, caring. It's not something I see often, especially in this life.”

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at his words. Arthur had always been a man of few compliments, and his acknowledgment of your softer side was unexpected. "Well, I've always loved kids. They bring out the best in me, I guess."

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the park, Arthur took a deep breath, as if mustering the courage to say something important. "I've been thinking... about the future. About what I want for myself. What I want for us."

Intrigued, you tilted your head, your heart racing with anticipation. "And what is it that you want, Arthur Morgan?"

He paused, his gaze intense and unwavering. "A family. A real one. I've seen what you have with Jack, and it made me realize... I want that too."

Your breath caught in your throat. Arthur was expressing a desire for a family, and you were at the heart of it. "Oh, Arthur..." You took a step closer, your eyes searching his. "I never knew you felt that way. I thought..."

"I know," he interrupted, his voice softening. "I've always been closed off, focused on surviving. But seeing you with Jack made me realize there's more to life than just existing. I want to build something, with you."

The air between you crackled with unspoken desire and the possibility of a future together. You took a deep breath, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "Arthur, I... I want that too. A family, a home... it's something I've always dreamed of."

Arthur's eyes lit up, and he took your hand in his, his calloused fingers entwining with yours. "Then let's make it happen. Together."

You nodded, your heart overflowing with emotions. "Yes, let's do it. I'm ready to take that chance with you."

As the sky turned a breathtaking shade of orange and pink, Arthur pulled you into a passionate embrace, his lips finding yours in a kiss that spoke of promise and desire. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a fire within you that you had never felt before. You responded eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, and Arthur's tongue traced your lower lip, seeking entrance, which you eagerly granted. His mouth tasted of the wild, a hint of tobacco and the sweetness of desire. You moaned softly, your body pressing against his, feeling the hard planes of his muscular frame.

Breaking the kiss, Arthur trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, down your neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples through the fabric of your dress. You arched into his touch, craving more.

"I want you, Darlin'," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "Right here, right now."

You could feel the heat of his erection pressing against your thigh, and you knew he was serious. "Arthur, we can't... not here. What if someone sees us?"

"I don't care," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I need to feel you, have you, right now."

Your resolve melted at his words, and you found yourself wanting him just as desperately. "Okay... but where?"

Arthur's eyes glinted with a mischievous light. "I know a place. Follow me."

Hand in hand, you let Arthur lead you through a grown up trail behind the camp, away from the fading light of the setting sun. He took you to a secluded spot, hidden by a thicket of trees, where the ground was covered in soft grass and wildflowers.

"Here," he said, his voice husky with anticipation. "This is where I want to make love to you, where I want to start our new life together."

You looked around, taking in the beauty of the hidden glade. The air was filled with the scent of wildflowers, and the only sound was the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was the perfect place for what you were about to do.

Arthur turned to you, his eyes dark with desire. "Take off your dress," he commanded, his voice low and rough.

Your heart raced as you began to undo the buttons of your dress, revealing the lace-trimmed chemise beneath. Arthur's eyes followed your every move, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

"That's it, Darlin'. Show me what's mine," he whispered, his hands reaching out to help you slide the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

You stood before him in your chemise, your nipples puckering visibly beneath the thin fabric. Arthur's eyes devoured you, his gaze hot and hungry. He stepped closer, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples through the lace.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips finding yours in another searing kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting, exploring, as his hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Arthur's hands slid down your body, his fingers hooking into the lace of your chemise, and with a swift motion, he tore it open, exposing your bare skin to the cool evening air.

"Arthur, please," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need you."

He didn't waste any time, lowering himself to his knees before you. His hands parted your thighs, and his mouth found your core, his tongue tracing your slit, tasting your essence. You gasped, your head falling back as pleasure rippled through your body.

Arthur's tongue delved deeper, finding your clit, circling it, flicking it with precision. He sucked and teased, driving you wild with desire. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him to you as he feasted on your pussy, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh, Arthur! I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." you cried out, your body tensing as an orgasm built within you.

Arthur's mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers deep inside your wet heat. You exploded around him, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

As your orgasm subsided, Arthur stood, his eyes dark with lust. He quickly shed his clothes, revealing his muscular body, hard and ready for you.

"I need to be inside you," he growled, his hands gripping your hips.

You nodded, eager to feel him fill you. Arthur positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his thick cock pressing against your wetness. With one swift thrust, he buried himself deep within you, claiming you as his own.

You cried out, your body adjusting to his size, the stretch and fullness of him overwhelming. Arthur began to move, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with powerful strokes.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his breath hot against your neck. "So tight, so wet..."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. Arthur's cock filled you completely, hitting all the right spots, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.

"Harder, Arthur," you pleaded, your nails digging into his back. "Fuck me harder."

He obliged, pounding into you, his hips slamming against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the glade, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure.

Arthur's hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. He found your sweet spot, and you cried out, your body trembling on the edge of another climax.

"Cum for me, Darlin'," he growled, his voice strained. "Let me feel you cum on my cock."

His words were all it took to send you over the edge. You tightened around him, your pussy milking his shaft as you came, crying out his name. Arthur followed soon after, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep inside you, filling you with his hot seed.

As your orgasms subsided, Arthur collapsed onto the grass, pulling you down with him, your bodies still joined, his heart pounding against yours. You lay there, breathless, your limbs heavy and sated, as the stars began to twinkle overhead.

"I love you, Darlin'," Arthur whispered, his lips brushing your hair. "Can’t wait to see you rounded out with my child."

You smiled, your heart overflowing with love and desire. "I love you too, Arthur. And I can't think of a better way to start our family than with a night like this."

[johnpriceslamb]

hey! i really love ur writing! are your requests open?? if they are would you maybe write another arthur x reader fic? maybe something with arthur introducing his new girlfriend to the gang for the first time? thank uuu!!😊

𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 ,

❥ ˚₊‧ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself. ˚₊‧

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ ❥ hyper-feminine ! reader ❥ female ! reader ❥ reader is mentioned to be physically shorter than characters mentioned below ❥ lovesick Arthur Morgan ❥ super-shy reader ❥ rugged cowboy bf x mini baker gf ❥ fluff ❥ Age gap implied ❥ 7k words ꒱

❥ arthur morgan x female! reader

꒰🍰꒱ “SWEET GATEAU” Written in all bold, the colour pink, carved in cursive. The board swings heavily amidst the top of the pole that sticks out to show off the demure place.

That was the name of your workplace. Located in the most populated city in the state of Lemoyne, Saint Denis. It was an obvious spot for cakes and pastries, considering that the literal meaning of ‘Gateau’ was cake in French. It stands out from most buildings surrounding it as do the connected shops beside it- large windows to display the sweet delicacies of riches on little shelves for those to glance at when passing by.

More-so.. advertising then teasing, you'd say.

The comforting, delicious fragrance of vanilla extract fills the air. You have yet to work on other requests commissioned by customers, though you focus solely on this particular order. Mainly because it was the easiest and much quicker to prepare.

A simple sponge plain cake with vanilla icing. Couldn’t be too hard.

You’re quite tempted to take a little swipe of the wet cream and taste it yourself- fortunately your temptations resist yet again because of repetition and practice. tiktiktik does the whisk in your hand go as it constantly scrapes against the bowl, the mixture hardens and becomes more of a fluffy-like texture rather than a wet clump of nice smelling liquid.

The comforting sound of the fire crackles with faint embers floating amongst the brick-encased oven. Inside the oven lay two lovely little flat cakes. Just exactly twenty minutes ago you’ve bestowed them upon a wooden flat board to dish out near the heat to harden up.

“Ten more minutes..” You mumble to yourself. Enough time to finish whisking the vanilla icing and pour into a pipe-bag.

You admire the prettiness of the sweet-tasting icing which was coated inside the surface of the bowl, before glancing at the paper-filled request again to make sure that you’ve been following the guide correctly. Thankfully enough, the woman who requested the small two layered cake wrote it on a piece of paper rather than verbally out loud. Her hand-writing was lovely, and so was she. At the end of the piece of paper, her signature was written out—

‘Mary-Beth. :-). Please do not forget the cherry on top !!!!’

You can’t help but giggle softly at the absurd amount of exclamation marks she wrote down. She was quite bubbly, and that lady was- very excited. From the looks of her- you were just at least a year or so younger than her. You remember she adorned a long skirt, dark pink in colour.. with her hair in a half down half updo. Freckles prettily placed on her skin. You recall stating to come pick up her order at around 8 in the morning tomorrow. The clock strikes 6 A.M. Two more hours until she can pick up her cake!

Long, dewy lashes tinker at the sound of the bells at the door jingling as a person enters. You were quick on your feet, miniature ribbon-tipped slippers softly tapping on the ceramic floor of this building, curiously peeking your dainty head from the corner. Another rich man seemed to peer around curiously at all the pastries and such inside, pondering if he should buy a few sweets. You weren’t one to really socialise, neither was he- from the looks of it. You could only offer the sweetest smile you could etch onto your face and shyly nod as he turned to you to acknowledge you, before returning back to the kitchen hidden from customers to work on the cake.

He could just ring the bell on the front counter to get your attention.

It was common for people to enter the little bakery, though at around 10-2 is when chatter becomes louder and you become more frantic.

And with that- ten minutes has passed. You clumsily get the cakes out of the oven and place it on the kitchenette's bench. Hot and rough-looking around the edges.. You could probably cover it up with the icing.

Before you do, you cover the first layer with the fluffy icing, before plopping the second layers on. This job was very therapeutic, you considered.

Droop does the vanilla sweetening go as you drown the plain cake with the sweet icing. Delicate swipes of a butter knife allowing it to smoothen amongst the hardened surface of the spongy delicacy. Plop! One little swirl of icing on top. And another.. and another.. Until it surrounds the whole edge of the cake. Oh, don’t forget! One big swirl in the middle of the cake, where the cherry shall be placed upon.

You can’t help but decorate the sides with little frosted hearts, the piping bag in your hand ever so sturdy as it squeezes most of the remaining out and onto the lovely decorated cake.

Was the decoration necessary? No, not really. But did it make you feel bubbly? Yes.

Ding!

You hear the sound of the silver bell reverberating against the metal itself just a few times from outside the kitchenette. You blink a few times, before toddling out and back at the counter. Seemed like the man from earlier had already decided on what to buy.

The sound of your meek, tiny voice can be heard echoing about and bouncing back to you. It was rather empty, considering that it was 6 in the morning-

“Welcome to Sweet Gateau! Where all your tastebuds experience sweet wonder and satisfaction. How may I help you?” Recitation of the same line allows you to memorise the whole thing completely. Sometimes you do change it up a bit just to have a bit of fun.

The man blinks at you.

He looks around before narrowing his eyes at you, sizing you up- albeit.. confused.

You want to ask what's wrong, did he perhaps get the shops wrong?

Perhaps it was his old eyes, or the way he perceived people by appearance. Maybe the tuft of pink on your uniform, or maybe the way you style your hair with ribbons and such. But looking at you, you looked as if you were just a..

“...Does this business support child labour?”

You stammer.

꒰🍰꒱ You are not one to argue with customers. Or argue at all.

But you’ve had to greatly convince the man that this place does not in fact, recruit people under the age of fourteen to work. He stumbles over his words as he realises that you were not actually in early adolescence, and to affirm his apology, he tips you a dollar. The wooden door which was pulled back allows the sweet little bells hung on top to jingle gently yet again as you see his retreating form with the paper bag of biscuits and sugary delicacies.

You smile happily. Another customer satisfied! though.. confused.

The clock strikes 7. One more hour until the lady can pick up her cake.

With a hum that sounded more like a serenade, you pack the cake into a small frilly-looking box, a sort of see-through material shaped in an oval which was built inside the frail box to allow the person to see the decorated cakes. Your beady eyes shimmer at the leftover frosting inside the piping bag.. maybe you could just have a little..

Your temptations are yet again disrupted by a flood of customers coming in. It was a Saturday, of course people were shopping at early dawn. The small crowd amidst the bakery mainly consisted of young ladies in friend groups admiring the pretty delicacies around, rich elderly retrospectively adorning the sweets from their childhood.

A squeak and a babble of incoherence once many line up, you're quick on your tippy toes to heat a tea-pot up with water near the brick-encased oven and organise many distributions of loose tea leaves.

Sometimes, you wonder if people did genuinely acknowledge their health since eating cakes and biscuits and other sweet stuff in the early morning wasn't really considered the healthiest breakfasts. Though, at least you earned a fair paycheck at the end.

A pretty smile feigned on your face until your apple-blossomed cheeks strained, as you recited the line over and over again to many customers who pointed at the delicacies they wanted to buy and eat. The fragrance of chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, it swirls into one and becomes a potent scent which drives more and more to eat up. You can’t help the giddy smile and the apple-blossom swelling with colour on your cheeks as you shyly peer at everyone who eats the pastry with delight. You’ve baked a few of the treats that linger in the bakery, and the soft moan at the end of the bite which signifies great pleasure in eating your own baked sweets allows your tummy to flutter with butterflies.

The tip jar starts to slowly fill every ten minutes. Quarters shine and tinker within the glass container, bidding every donation with a pleased 'thank you!' and a little wink. 

It’s been an hour or so. Mary-Beth has yet to pick up her cake. 

As if on cue, the bells attached on-top of the door chimes, producing the same little melodic drag. You look up to see the lady you were thinking about! Mary-Beth, if you recall correctly. You wave at her with a happy smile, and she reciprocates with a big grin obviously excited to see the order. From behind her slightly taller figure in comparison to you was followed by three more ladies, admiring the shop with a soft coo and a gasp.

“I told y'all this bakery was cute!” Said-woman falls with a bemused smile on her face.

“Twenty-five cents for a whole brownie! What a catch,” One nudges another.

“It has caramel in it!! C’mon Abigail, we oughta!” The lady with blonde hair almost whines, “It’ll be a good surprise for lil’ Jack!”

“Mh, I don’t know Karen..”

Mary-Beth eagerly comes to the counter, her dark rosetta coloured skirt swishing around as she does. “Hello, miss [name]!”

You smile in return, wiping your powered-up hands on your frilly light-pink apron, “Hi, Miss Gaskill. Your vanilla glazed cake is done. Are you here to eat in or to take out?” As nimble as you were, you can’t help but be comforted by the lady’s presence. A sunshine amongst a field of closed sun-flowers.

She almost seemed surprised at your words. Perhaps the usual shops that she went in did not offer such things. She ponders, before calling out to the three women who still stare at all the sweets on display, arguing with each other whether or not they should buy a few sweets, “Would you all mind quieting down!?” 

You can’t help but softly giggle under your breath.

You patiently wait for Mary’s answer, that small grin still plastered on your face.

“Hm..” She hums, “Do you perhaps have spare plates and serviettes..?” She meekly asks.

“Of course!” You nod sweetly, “Give me a moment to prepare a table would you?” “Oh! Okay,” She beams. 

As you pass by, all of the girl’s bid you a “hi!”, “lovely place!”  “hello!” You respond to them with a wave and a smile.

“She’s very pretty,” The black-haired girl whispers to Mary-Beth. She nods immediately at her response.

“She really is,” She agrees, “So lovely too! I think she's got to be the nicest girl I've ever met in Saint Denis.”

As the chatter in the bakery by other folks becomes a tad bit louder, you're too busy preparing four serviette-adorned plates. You nod to the lady waiting, she bickers with the others and allows them to toddle on over and take a seat. The legs of the chair scrape at the floorings below, some are mindful about the fact and instead of dragging it, they slightly elevate it to eliminate the scratchings.

“Oh! Right, would you like me to cut the cake?” You graciously ask.

She smiles and politely nods, “Yes please!” 

Their prattling drowns out in silence as you waddle away back in the kitchenette to cut the cake.

Mary-Beth smiles at the other girls.

“So? How do y’all like it here?”

“It’s real fancy in here,” Abigail responds calmly, “Real pretty, though.”

“Mhm. Anywho.. How much did you pay for the cake?” Her blonde haired friend asks. She fiddles with the napkin on the plate, before placing it beside the food holder. She inhales the scent of the bakery, sighing sweetly.

She sheepishly grins, “Err.. five dollar.”

“I— Mary-Beth! My goodness..”

“Tilly, I promise you. It’s gon’ be real good!” She nudges the girl in the yellow dress.

"I better see miracles happening once I take a bite out of the cake," Karen- the blonde haired woman scoffs, allowing herself to get comfortable in the chairs. The two women beside her softly giggle at her bluntness.

The bold, sweet odour of the sugary vanilla glacé hits their nose, arriving with a slight wiggle inside the box as you carefully place it in the middle. Mary-Beth was the first to gently take the lid off, she gasped at the small decorations at the side. Little piped hearts.. "My, oh my.."

"Now, ain’t that just the cutest little thing i’ve ever seen?" Tilly coos.

You do a little curtsey, tipped with a sugary smile and doll your wispy lashes. "Enjoy, ladies!"

"Ah ah, wait a moment now- hold on!" Mary-Beth frantically stammers and tries to get your attention with a squeak once your small back is turned to them. It does, fortunately.

You turn back around, curious. Your head is slightly tilted to embody your confusion, beady eyes staring at the ladies whom seem to also want to keep you back here.

"I've seen you runnin' all about and uhm.. Do you ever take breaks, miss?" She curiously asks.

You blink. Was she offering..?

"I do," You respond truthfully, albeit shyly.

She sheepishly smiles, "Would you perhaps.. Like to enjoy this with us?"

You stammer, "I-I uhm, I'm not sure about that-"

The woman in blonde cuts you off, "Awh, c'mooon! C'mere and sit, girl. You need a damn break."

You hesitate again. "No, really-"

"Ahh, give us a break- c'mere now!" She cuts you off easily. The one whom insisted on you sitting down with them grabs a chair from an empty table, before easily plopping you down.

"What's yer name, lil' lady?" She asks with a smile.

You grin with a docile muse, saying hi to the other girls, "It's [name]."

"Ooh! Purdy name for an even purdier girl." She cheekily pats your pixie-like shoulder. Your cheeks pop with colour at her low-toned flirting

"I'm Karen, that's Tilly, Abigail, and of course, Mary-Beth. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, little miss [name].”

Another girl pipes up, “Do you work here all alone, [name]?” Tilly— the one with the pretty yellow sundress asks with interest. She admires the interior of the building, how the edges of the roof had little floral pastry designs, on-going around the whole building and to the hidden kitchenette behind.

“Mhm!” You nod. Abigail raises her brows up, leaning slightly on the table. She has the mother-like aura which makes you feel ever-so giddy. She’s hushed in her tone, worried that she might make a scene if she spoke too loud, “Excuse me for intrudin’ but.. Ain't you a little… too young to be running this store all by yourself?”

“Ah!” Your cheeks become darker in hue. “I’m of legal age to work, miss. It’s just the frills ‘n the bows.”

Tilly was the first to serve herself a slice. She takes a small bite from the sweet delicacy, icing oozing out inside as she lets out a delightful hum. She finishes chewing it, before her eyes twinkle and she turns to you, “My goodness! And you baked this all by yourself?”

“Uhuh, I’m so glad you like it.” You clasp your hands together happily. Mary-Beth is eager to get a slice, then Abigail, then Karen.

“Okay, maybe the dollar was kind of worth it for this cake..” Karen mumbles quietly, poking her fork at the sweet cake.

Mary-Beth cheekily nudges Tilly’s shoulder, “Seeee? I knew you’d like it.”

You look around, noting yourself that you should give them something to drink to drown that sucrose-filled treat. You excused yourself from the table, the little frills etched on the back of your small skirt bobbling about like a tiny princess toddling about. You’re quick to bringing a teapot over, with a few porcelain-like cups stacked on top as you gently place it on the table.

“Wait- er.. Does the tea cost extra?” Mary-Beth asks, raising a finger before lowering it down as it catches your attention.

You raise a brow, “It’s free.”

“I could quite literally kiss you right now,” She beams, allowing you to pour the hot tea in the cups which were given out to the women around.

The overall vibe amongst the interior was pleasant. The small, gossamer-bunched bonnet on your head tilts a bit as you lean down to tip the fragile teapot.

As you carefully pour the hot liquid, you hear them conversing with each other as usual. Though you tend to take a blind eye- or ear in this case, you can’t help but be a tad bit curious to their little gossip.

“D’you reckon we should’ve invited Molly over?” Abigail asks.

“Oh- Maybe. I feel like she'll like it here, but I also have this feeling she’ll just fan herself away and give us nasty looks the whole time.” Tilly mumbles, delicately cooing out a 'thank you' as you poured a cup of tea for her. The tea swishes and sloshes against the cup as she drinks from it with her pinkie out.

Karen snorts, "You're so right. Just one touch from Dutch, and she's ready to take over the world. Miss primp and polish she is till' mister Dutchie doesn't give her a lick of affection."

Mary-Beth gasps softly, "Karen!" She calls her name as if to scold her, only for a small chuckle to follow after.

Your curiosity is visible, but you don't say anything. You're one to entertain gossip, but you aren't one to prod- considering that you've only met these lovely ladies.

They finished the small cake in another hour. Currently, you were situated behind the mini counter serving a few customers amongst the treats they wanted to buy.

"Ah, that was real good." Abigail wipes her mouth with the napkin provided, in a more rushed sense- an underlying feeling that she wasn’t so used to these kinds of etiquette.

"Maybe we should buy sumthing! We ain't gonna visit 'Denis for a while unless if we like- beg Arthur or sumn' to come wit', so I reckon we should give ourselves a little treat after all the things we've been through."

"We should buy them caramel brownies.."

"C'mon, c'mon! Lets get it then," Karen ushers Tilly and Abigail out of their seats once they've finished up, Mary-Beth following after with a giggle.

"[name]! These brownies cost twenty-five cents a bar don't they?" Mary-Beth calls out, pointing at the display at the front. Oozing with caramel delight, encased with a delicious chocolate coating which makes her swoon at the beautiful sight.

"It does, yes." You nod with a shy smile.

"Goodness, [name]. These prices are kinda high.. Reckon' you can give us a lil'.. discount? Y'know! Since we're friends!" Karen winks.

You shyly ponder, "Mhh.. Alright, why not?" As said before, you weren't really one to argue. Besides, they were sweet girls.

"Woo-hoo!" They cheer with a giggle, before eagerly grabbing the little tong at the side to grab a slice.

"A bar of brownie.. 20 cents." You bargain.

Karen shrugs, "Good enough." And she hands you the coins.

You hear them all bidding you a good-bye, and a cheeky "Expect to see me here again!!"

The door closes, and you're left with the constant conversations on-going. You stare at the shining coins placed in your hands, and can’t help the pleasurable feeling of gentle-tipped joy flood your tummy.

꒰🍰꒱ Morning dawn comes.

Another day at the bakery.

You rise slowly from your beauty sleep. The silky gossamer curtains flow slightly from the wind, as the sun shines pink and yellow lights from the half open windows of your room. The wood creeks beneath your light footsteps as you grumble on to get ready for the morning.

Lazy pats of coloured light pink powder is gently flushed against your cheeks, the small ribbon-tipped brush rattles because of the amount of use it's been through. Your hair is done prettily, silky bows attached to the side which matches the coloured powder you put on your dewy face. It takes you a tad longer to arrange your morning routine into a real situation, until you're out of the door and walking on the path to the bakery.

Pushing past the entrance, you hear those bells chime a little ballad that was always memorable and will never be forgotten.

Though it may be a nuisance to look at the same things constantly, you are always reminded that this place was a safe-zone for anyone or anything. Mainly because at the entrance hangs a low sign on the door handle that entrees prohibit the use of weapons and must take it off before entering the store.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted as the entrance opens to the same women from yesterday. Though, two older men are accompanying them from behind, albeit.. begrudgingly.

"-I don't think this store is the right thing f' me.." He grumbles, you can see from behind the counter that Abigail was holding his hand, perhaps her lover. She glares and hisses at him, pinching his arm. "Quiet, you."

"Y'sure this place sells them biscuits I like?" The one in dirty blonde seemed low-key embarrassed to be in here, scratching at his head as he looks around. His hat is tilted to obscure his eye-sight. Your curious eyes widen a bit as his own stares at yours. You quickly avert your eyes with a soft blush etched on your cheeks.

"They sell all kinds of sweets 'n' delicates," Tilly pipes up, slightly hitching her long skirt up with her thumb and index finger. Shoes clack gently against the floral-designed tiles, eyes wandering around the familiar place. "I'm sure you'll find those dumb biscuits you keep talkin' about!"

"[name]!!" Mary-Beth was the first to run to the counter with a giddy smile, "Told ya I'd be coming back."

You have a small smile on your face, "Welcome back, miss Gaskill!" You do a tiny curtsey with your frill-bunched apron and skirt.

She giggles, "Goodness, [name]. You are too cute for your own good."

She perks up, "Ah! We brought a few friends over. This here's John," She points to the man who grumbled a 'hi', crossing his arms. He clearly does not want to be here. The woman who clings onto his arms scolds him quietly for being so ‘impolite’. You hide your lips behind your hand to stifle your soft giggle.

“That’s Arthur.” Mary-Beth points to the man who looks at the biscuits section. Topped with a black shirt and a vest which had a unique design, he seemed.. very determined to find those biscuits he mentioned earlier when entering the bakery. He looks around curiously, the little flower-y paint-job is something he expected for a small little bakery like this one here.

He’s holding onto his belt whilst striding to the counter lazily, before curiously looking at you. Cold, dark eyes peer at you like a lone wolf about to catch it’s prey for lunch. You meekly shrink just a bit as you feel him size you up with his daring gaze.

“Howdy, miss.” He greets casually.

You slowly nod, very shy with your greeting. Your quiet voice echoes loudly in his ears. He unconsciously has to lean just a bit to even hear you. “Hello, welcome to sweet Gateau..” A smile forms on your face as you see his brows relaxing slightly at your harmless form. Suddenly, he’s as bashful as a kid being told off for causing a ruckus. He looks around with a narrowed gaze, before looking back at you. A soft grunt escapes his lips.

“..Do ya’ll make uh.. Osborne biscuits?” He asks in a low tone.

You brighten up.

“Oh! Yes we do. Would you like a bag?” You ask with that same pixie-like smile which makes him soften up even more. Something.. catches his eye. He’s not sure what though.

“Ah, um.. Yes please, miss.” He tilts his head to obscure his eyes from your view.

You mumble a little ‘excuse me,’ to push yourself off your shoes to retrieve his request. He watches the way your fluffy-frilled skirt bobbles up and down.

Very.. cute.

A tap to his shoulder, and a soft snicker catches his attention. He turns around.

“Whuh.. What?” Arthur blinks at the three ladies who stare at him with a big grin. He was stunned at the abnormal behaviour they were currently showing off.

“Yer cheeks are real red.” Mary-Beth comments. Tilly has to hide her soft chuckle with her hand the corner of her eyes becoming alike of a crows feet to acknowledge her amusement.

“They are?” He quirks a brow, crossing his arms. Though imposing, he’s as docile as a lamb when it comes to the ladies, “Yer jokin’ with me.”

“Are not!” Karen laughs, “Don’t tell me you like her already. Ya’ll only just met!”

Arthur looks defensive, he narrows his eyes at the women in-front of him. “The hell you talkin’ bout?” He rests on the soles of his feet, nervously looking around. Anywhere but in their eyes.

“It’s as plain as daylight, cowpoke. No shame in hidin’ it, she’s real cute.”

Unaware of their conversations lingering in the background, you come back with the bag of Osborne biscuits. located within a transparent plastic bag and secured with a ribbon. A sticker in the middle with the bakery's emblem on it It rests delicately in your palm as you blithely toddle up front. The chatting suddenly ceases when you return.

“Apologies for taking a while,” You apologise sweetly, placing the biscuits on the counter. He brightens up entirely at the cute packaging of the biscuits he was craving for for so long.

“Don’t sweat it,” He opens the satchel hanging over his shoulder, “How much?”

“Fifty cents for a bag.” You watch him throw a few coins onto the counter. You smile sweetly, counting the coins before placing them inside the cash register. The swelling of your cheeks become just a tad bit more prominent as his fingers linger on yours to grab the bag out of your hand once you push it lightly in his direction.

You do a tiny curtsy. So much alike of a princess who expresses their gratitude to a king. “Thank you for ordering!”

He could only nod, scratching at his stubble as he awkwardly looked away. “Yeah. Uh.. No problem.”

“Do we really needa be feedin’ Jack all this? He’s gon’ be diabetic once he grows up if we keep feeding him this stuff..” John and Abigail bicker in the background which catches both of your attention. You can’t help the amused smile on your face at his comment. Though he was trying to be quiet, these walls echoed right back at you.

“Are.. They always like this?” You can’t help but question the sweet- or.. something couple from the back. It was cute in your eyes. Arthur can’t help the grin forming on his face.

“Their way of showing love I guess,” He leans on the counter with the biscuits in his hand. Then, he slowly turns his head to you, “Er.. What’s yer name?”

“[name],” You squeak in response to the handsome man.

He blinks. Without hesitation, he says with a soft hum— “Purdy name.”

Your cheeks become the same pigment of powder you apply on your temples. You look down at the ground, your hands behind your back as you can’t help the giddy smile on your face, “Thank you..”

Arthur is curious to learn more. He's fascinated by the personality you portray. With a pixie-like physique and a timid mindset akin to a doe, a stark contrast to his.

“How uh.. How long have you been workin’ here? In sweet..” He pauses awkwardly, trying to think of a way to say the final word in a mumble without looking or sounding ignorant.

“Gateau,” You finish his sentence for him with a light smile. He’s thankful that he didn’t hear a soft giggle at the end. Perhaps you were trying to save him from looking pitiful. Or maybe you were really just a decent-hearted girlie.

You do not notice the way the other ladies looked back at you and Arthur with a cheeky smile.

“Ah, yeah. Sweet Gateau,” He clears his throat with an oafish, low beam.

You can’t really remember the exact date you started working in this petite patisserie, but you give him a rough estimation of when you started. He nods with an interested hum, seemingly curious about your story. He didn’t seem like a man who would indulge in small-chat. But for you, he did.

“We’re leavin’, Arthur! We all got what we wanted!” One of the women calls out to him, causing him to be startled at the abrupt calling.

He clears his throat shyly again. “Ah.. Um.. I should get goin’. Only came here to see if ya’ll had ‘em in stock. Glad you guys did.” His words were nothing but gentle- waving even. As if Arthur didn’t want to leave just yet. You nod kindly, letting a tiny blossom of adoration to slowly develop inside your tummy. 

“Come back next time,” You faintly add, shyly waving at him with a sweet beam. 

He has a low smile, “Oh, I will.”

Your heart stammers a bit.

The door closes. The sound of multiple footsteps creaking amongst wooden floorboards is heard.

John’s looks at the cowpoke who strides next to him. He’s careful not linger near the dirt-path, noting to himself to not get his boots so dirty. A nudge to his arm is what gets Arthur away from his thoughts.

“What the hell was that?”

Arthur glowers. “What’s what?”

“Don’t play dumb, cowpoke. Saw how you looked at ‘er.”

“I don’t know what yer’ talkin’ about.”

The conversation ends there. Either John was becoming frustrated with his ignorance his words were stuck in his throat, or he gave up entirely to persuade the man’s attraction to the girl behind those doors.

꒰🍰꒱ To your utmost surprise, Arthur Morgan slowly yet surely becomes a common face within Sweet Gateau.

It’s not to say he was unwelcome in the premises, rather more.. how should you say this, amusing to say the least.

A man who stands firm and tall at a whopping 6’4 in height, who carries a gun at his side with a rifle almost as big as you- with a sharp gaze that could pierce your heart as quick as a glance in your direction, stands in a small bakery with light pink fairy-like cakes and floral themed walls. Perched up on a table with his little snack whilst scribbling down things on that journal he always took. You wonder what he writes about.

With his constant visits, it’s clear that you’ve down packed his order to your brain.

Osborne biscuits with a small cup of coffee.

You wonder if that man likes to torture himself with such blandness. No sugar, no milk, just coffee. It’s as bitter as it can be- if you can smell that bittersweet scent from just a few centimetres away.

Sometimes he would come up to you for a small chat to probably make you feel less lonely as you sweep away at a dusty corner for a few minutes straight. Other times he would just mind his own business, munching away on those plain biscuits he always orders.

It’s been a few weeks since seeing the other girls. Sometimes you ask Arthur to say hi to them for you, and he always comes back with a lazy grin saying that they miss you and hope you’re doing well despite only knowing each other for a few days.

The bell rings up front.

You know it’s him from the way he slowly strides to the counter, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as a faint jingle of spurs become evident the more he walks closely.

You truly cannot help the blossoming smile which etches on your face.

“Good afternoon, Mister Morgan. Welcome to sweet Gateau,” You welcome him with a slight lean on the counter. You can’t help that cheeky expression, “The usual?”

“Y’know me.” He nods at your words, “The usual, please.” Baritone and deep, his voice was. It almost sends a shiver down your spine.

You watch him turn his back to go sit at one of the more secluded spots in the bakery, deep into a corner. A diary in hand, with a pencil busily being worn down on the papers. The sounds of led scratching at the fibres of the white expansion of pages is heard easily from afar. It’s calming to say the least.

You’re quick with the order, almost giddy as you place the plate of those plain biscuits on his table with his bitter coffee. He gives you a small ‘thank ya’ kindly.’ before returning back to his sketching on something.

In just under twenty minutes will the bakery close. It’s quiet, with only a few people including Arthur relaxing in the wooden chairs placed within the interior.

You’re busy within the kitchenette, allowing the brick-encased oven to be put out completely. Washing up all the equipment you’ve used to make and create such food, soapy bubbles floating everywhere. The sounds of the door opening and closing is heard, many of the customers served leaving with a small tip inside that jar of yours up front.

Slowly yet surely, you wipe down the benches of the kitchenette before putting the rag back down. You walk up to the counter with a soft yawn from the tiring day.

A soft clearing of a throat catches your attention. You blink a few times and see Arthur.

“Oh! I thought you would’ve left a while ago,” You smile. Though you’re not very keen on customers staying five minutes before closing time, you’ll be very glad to make an exception for Arthur.

“Sorry, uh..” He awkwardly scratches at the back of his head, “Reckoned It’d be better to give this to you in private.”

You tilt your head sweetly, almost puppy-like. His heart squeezes at the simple yet innocent gesture. What was he giving you?

With that, he hands you a piece of paper, folded in half just once with a small heart at the corner. Your eyes light up immediately, as you shyly take the piece of paper- one which was from his diary he probably torn off, considering that one edge of the paper was bumpy and rough.

You mumble out a shy ‘thank you’, very curious and opening it with one simple hand gesture.

You feel like the luckiest girl alive.

A pretty led-based sketch of you. You were drawn with your usual frilly outfit on, the bakery drawn in the background. He drew every single detail on your face so accurately, it sort of amazes you. The small beauty mark was in the correct spot, with your eyes big and sparkly.

You softly gasp, putting a small hand over your mouth to not look like a dummy in front of him, “Arthur..”

“It ain’t the best but..” He averts his gaze, “I couldn’t help but draw ya. You just looked..” Pretty. Beautiful. Adorable. Cute. “—..Lovely.”

“Ain’t the best?” You scoff. “This is so beautiful, Arthur. Y—You got the bow, too! And the outfit, and the background..” You beam sweetly.

“Thank you so much,” You keep the drawing close to your chest. You note to yourself mentally to buy a picture frame, “This is so beautiful, Arthur. I love it!”

He holds his gaze low, cheeks slowly burning from the praise you squeaked out. He awkwardly shifts, before bidding you a goodbye.

You open the piece of paper one last time, flipping it over to see a message written in cursive which read:

‘Kinda weird to write this but I heard you were free tomorrow. Would you like to walk around the park nearby with me? I’ll probably be around there at 8 in the morning, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. —A.M ◡̈’

For a man like him, you’d never thought his handwriting was alike of a fairy tale novel.

꒰🍰꒱ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself.

You are very adamant in looking like a right pixie for today.

Last night you could not get much sleep because of the excitement your heart held. You were dying to meet Arthur again without being in the same frilly uniform you always wore, a face coated with powder not from your beauty products but from pastries you make and serve.

You adorn a floral patterned dress, with a pretty pearl necklace. The hat you wore was similar to a southern belle darling sun-hat, but less brim and less flowers, a simple laced bow tied around the rim instead. And of course, your signature laced bows clipped in your hair.

As pretty as a porcelain doll you were.

Your ballerina-like flats click gently on the cemented pavement down towards the park. The scent of steam and machine slowly transition to more of a petrichor-like smell as you near the park.

There he was, standing around the entrance, admiring the flowers from beyond. You can’t help the soft giggle escaping your lips as he looked behind him and went immediately silent at the sight of your beauty. It was almost coincidental on how the flowers around gently wavered by and shined more brighter once you passed by with a shy smile.

“Hi,” You greet him softly- almost too gentle for his liking. Your hands are positioned behind your back, with the soles of your feet resting on the ground as you tilt your head to maintain eye contact with him. You notice his hair was slicked back a bit, and his attire was more cleaner than usual.

“Hey,” He replies back. He lends out an arm for you to hold, and you do so happily. He looks everywhere but your direction.

He clears his throat with a bit of hesitancy. “Thought you weren’t comin’. Hell, I thought you didn’t even see the message I wrote on the back.”

“Why wouldn’t I go?” You smile eagerly, “It’s nice to be somewhere else for a change. Being cooped up in that bakery can sometimes make me feel dizzy.” That was the longest sentence he’s ever heard you mutter.

“I reckon smelling the same sweets over ‘n’ over again would make ya go crazy” He replies cheekily. His eyes size you up again. Slowly yet surely. A little fairy you were, with beauty no other. He opens his mouth to say something, anything- but he slowly shuts it.

And suddenly, he builds up enough courage to say something.

“You look.. Real pretty.” He quietly mutters. Lovely doe-like eyes stare up at him again- and how quick did his knees almost buckle was a good comparison to his latest duel.

“..You think I look pretty?”

He slowly nods, scratching at the stubble on his chiselled jaw with his other hand, “The prettiest.”

He’s not sure if the glittering pink powder on your cheeks becomes more prominent as seconds pass by. He watches you slowly become sheepish and giddy under his sharp gaze. You fight the curled corner of your lips to turn downwards, but alas you give up immediately as you quite literally melt under his touch.

You shyly stutter out a small “Thank you.” The grip on his arm becomes just a tad bit tighter.

The silence was nothing but comfortable despite it being a bit awkward at the start. After his compliment, you can’t help that fluttering feeling of love bursting inside, up in the skies lays an imaginary cherubim whom shoots those heart-shaped arrows quickly into your heart as you glance at him another time.

And it seemed that the cherubim shot his arrow in his heart, too.

“I loved that drawing you made f’ me yesterday,” You mutter. High-pitched yet so soothing in tone- was your voice. Almost mellifluous, like a serenade similar to those soft jingles heard in the entrance of the bakery, “I never knew you could draw.”

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, figured. I don’t really look like the type to draw, do I?”

“No, not really.” You softly giggle, “But it’s.. it’s cute.” The way your tone changes pitch at the end makes him conclude of how your intentions were supposed to be.

He quirks a brow. A slow smirk curling on his face.

You catch on immediately. Your cheeks become the same pigment of blush you used, “I-I didn’t mean it like that—”

His soft laugh interrupts you. “No, no. I get ya, I get ya.”

You can’t help but look away from embarrassment. Just a few minutes in and he’s unconsciously teasing you.

“Hey.. Look at me.” He narrows his eyes at your little show.

You don’t.

“C’mooon, it ain’t such a big deal..” He’s about to grab your chin to make you look his way. Though his hand backs away when he sees those beady eyes of yours slowly coming back to maintain eye contact.

He smiles unconsciously at your sweetness. “Yeah. Good girl.”

He unconsciously brushes your cheek with his thumb. You puff your cheeks out immediately, heart hammering in your chest at the title. You cross your arms in-front of your chest, hand resting on your fore-arm. He quietly notes to himself how pretty your hand would be if a ring was seen on your ring finger.

Suddenly, you feel your heart drop. You want to say something, anything.

“Arthur?” Your hand suddenly goes to his sleeve, tugging it softly to get his attention.

“Mhm?” He responds, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.

Suddenly, you feel like your tongues all tied up inside your mouth. Your mind is in shambles and you’ve suddenly forgotten every word in the English dictionary as his pretty eyes stare at you as if you were an ethereal being.

“I.. er,” You fiddle with the small frills of the end of your dress, “N—nevermind.”

“Hey, now.” He comes a bit closer with that boyish charm smile. The faint scent of hair pomade and wood makes you swoon just a bit more, “You can’t just back off like that, c’mon.. tell me.”

“I..” You hesitantly start off. “What.. What are we, Arthur?”

He seemed to be a bit caught off guard with the abrupt question. You catch onto his quietness, and immediately you shrink out of embarrassment. You feel ashamed, flustered for even asking that!

You dare try to look at him in the eyes once more, “I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologise.”

You slowly blink when he cuts you off.

He’s a bit difficult to read at this moment as he processes his words. He looks at you a few times, gosh did his heart beat fast.

Then, he slowly opens his mouth. “I.. I ain’t so sure myself. But I just..” He takes a deep breath, “I like you, a lot. Yer a real lovely girl, a good girl. But you shouldn’t be with a man like me, miss.”

You feel yourself falter, “Wh— What? Why?”

He shakes his head. He’s hesitant. He doesn’t want to answer, but for your sake he does.

“I.. ain’t a good man, [name].” He tries to explain to you. “Never was in the start. ‘N I don’t want you gettin’ into trouble just cuz people seen you with me.”

You narrow your eyes, allowing him to continue on and elaborate. You feel like the happiest woman alive, but the saddest.

“I’m..” He looks around to see if anyone was listening, and he leans in just a bit, “I’m an outlaw, sweetheart.”

“…And?”

He’s taken aback once again. The garden amongst you quietens as soon as you uttered out that single word. You feel awfully thankful because of the fact that no one was around you.

You feel like this’ll be the most stupidest decision in your life. Your heart and brain yearns for the man that stands in front of you, who holds you like a porcelain doll and who treats you like the prettiest princess alive.

“I— I don’t care if.. if yer an outlaw.” You stutter out, “You’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt before and I..”

Both his hands come to yours, fingers coming to intertwine with yours. The bold contrast between your skin and size told you everything. Calloused filled, scar-stricken hairy hands paired with hands that were always smoothened, delicately cared with little to no blemishes. He squeezes your hands firmly.

“Darlin’..” He sighs, “I don’t want you to get hurt ‘cuz of me, ‘s all I’m saying.”

“Please, Arthur.” You plead silently. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this moment. You want him, and he wants you. He looks so conflicted, his demeanour falls as soon as you use those puppy eyes you were blessed with. Long lashes slowly fall down, which rises and shows those glistening pearls of coloured irises.

“..Damn.” He kisses his teeth out of pure irritation over the situation. Not because of you, never. But because of the decisions which ultimately resulted in the worst. He looks at you one more time.

“You’re real needy thing y’know that?” He grunts lowly before leaning in slowly to press his lips on your forehead. Immediately do you melt in his arms, you cling onto him like the princess you were.

He holds you closely. Your face meets his chest, and his arms are wrapped around your waist, “You really wanna get with me huh?”

“Yes,” You reply, out of breath at the touch. “More than anything.” You continue on with a sweet whimper which makes his desires go crazy in his mind.

“You’re gon’ be in for a real long ride, sweetheart.” He mutters softly in your ear.

You don’t hesitate to answer back. “I don’t mind.”

“You really sure?” He asks one more time, “Y’can’t back out once yer with me. You’re mine from then on, y’hear?”

“All yours.” You nod once again.

꒰🍰꒱ “I’ve been thinking.”

The brush in your hand is slow in movement, before placed down gently on the table below. A brow is quirked at the sound of your beau’s voice which rattled in your head.

It’s been over few months or so since you’ve gotten together. When he couldn’t visit, he’d send letters with the sweetest words. You’ve kept them all in a small box which cheekily peaked out in the corner of your room, right on top of your mahogany wardrobe.

“You oughta meet m’ family.” He bluntly states.

“Your family?” You tilt your head.

He nods, scratching at the stubble on his angular jaw. Your eyes catch the slight tremble his hand had when it was coming to his jaw, and you can’t help but be even more curious.

“Lemme rephrase that.. Reckon you should come meet my gang. They’re my family, in a way.”

You hesitate at the word ‘gang’. Obviously, by that word alone it insinuated meanings which you were taught to be aware.

“Don’t you worry, they’re all nice people,” He brings up a hand to place on-top of yours, “You don’t have meet ‘em if you don’t feel ready yet, ‘m just saying.”

You shyly smile up at him.

“I’ll meet them.”

His crinkled eyes widen in surprise, “You will?”

“Mhm,” You nod, “Oh- Just give me some time to prepare, will you?”

“Right, right. You go do your little princess activities which’ll span for over a whole five hours.” He teases. He earns a glare from your puppy face, something he’s all too familiar with.

“Quiet, you.”

“The hell are you even doing in there? Does it really have to take you a whole two hours to pick an outfi— Ouch.” A sock clumsily hits his face.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take you a whole five hours to get ready. Before you could grab the necklace on your desk, Arthur reaches from behind to grab those dainty pearls of yours before clasping it behind your neck himself. He slowly leans in to delicately place a soft kiss on your sensitive neck before standing up to dust himself.

“Y’ready, sweetheart?” He asks with a low drawl.

“Mhm!” You smile happily, clinging to his arm.

Outside from the building you lived in has a small horse post outside to hitch said animals. He leads you to a horse far more taller than him, quite literally towering over you. With the least of efforts, he picks you up from the waist to plop you on the saddle, before he himself hitches on the magnificent mare.

It took over an hour to travel to some sort of densely packed trail. You can’t help but tilt your head at the location, tilting your head up to question the man who lazily rode the horse behind you. His chest was quite a good alternative for a pillow.

“..You live here?”

He snorts, “Er.. Kinda. You’ll see.”

Not long do you see a large campsite, you feel yourself shrink at the sound of.. new people.

Sure you worked at a job where you had to talk to people. But you weren’t the best at keeping up a conversation with.. criminals, you could say.

“Arthur’s back, Arthur’s back!” A little boy’s voice rings through your ears, you can’t help but curiously peak from his shoulder to see whom it was. A young boy with brown hair- blue coat and a tooth missing. He eagerly points to the man as he enters in the vicinity.

“Ooh, ‘n he’s brought a girl..” The young boy ushers a woman far too familiar to come over.

“He what now?” The sound of a few footsteps were heard- oh gosh did you feel as nervous as a doe trying to not stumble on its legs.

“A girl?”

“Don’t tell me we’ve got another mouth to feed.”

“She’s real purdy.”

“She seems fancy..”

“[name]?”

You jump at the sound of your name being called- you look behind to see.. Mary-Beth!

“Oh!” Arthur hops down, picking you up from the horse to settle you onto the ground. You eagerly smile at the woman you knew well.

“What are you doing here?!” The book-worm asks with a squeal, rushing to you for a hug.

“I— I could ask you the same thing!” You stammer as you feel yourself getting lifted up a bit from the ground, hugging her tightly back.

Arthur coughs to interrupt the soft chattering, “I’d like you all to meet m’ girl. No touching, ‘cept for the girls ‘n Jack.”

“Ha! Knew you had a thing for her—” You hear a raspy voice from afar, near the little boy you presumed was named Jack. You’ve seen him before, and if you could recall.. His name was John. A flick to the forehead is what you see between your beloved and him.

“Tilly ‘n the others are here somewhere finishing chores up,” Mary-Beth beckons a few of the girls to come over. Karen was the first to bid you a ‘hello!!!’

“Y’got any cake for us?” She jokingly asks. Her eyes widen when she realises she’s spoken too soon when she sees the few boxes of treats which were stacked and tied with a pink bow neatly on top of Arthur’s horse.

“[name], I think ‘m gonna kiss you.” Karen walks away to grab one box for herself. You let out a giggle as you go and greet the other girls.

Fortunately for you, everyone was welcoming and homey well um, except for one. But you’ve heard from most that he’s always like that.

“It’s quite a surprise for Arthur to bring a woman back to camp,” An old man to which you’ve became comfortable talking with for a while sits next to you. Hosea was his name, for some reason does he remind you of your grandfather.

“Oh? How so?” You shyly question. His warm eyes stare at your figure endearingly.

“Well for starters, he usually scares them off.”

“Hosea.” Your love comes to your side, embarrassed at his words.

“It’s quite true! Here, let me tell her about the story of when you…”

For the rest of the day, you were treated carefully and lovingly. You weren’t sure what you’d expect from a gang filled with criminals and thieves, but you could surely say that they were a sweet group of people.

You’ll be expecting a large sum of visitors on the following days, and perhaps a small ring soon enough.

[whereforarthur]

Being Stuck in an Elevator Never Looked so Good?

Pairing: ArthurTv x Fan!Reader

Summary: Getting trapped in an elevator with your favorite YouTuber, was not what you had planned for today

Word Count: 4.2k

Rating: PG-13

Category: Fluff/ Light Smut

*****

My heart and the elevator, a plummet inside a plummet. -Jonathan Lethem

Y/n stepped into the elevator, her heart racing from the brisk London jog she'd just finished. She was the picture of casual athleticism in her sweat-dampened tee and leggings, the chilly air conditioning giving her a welcome respite from the city's heat. As the doors closed with a soft ding, she took a deep breath and glanced at the mirrored walls, checking her ponytail. It was a habit she had, a silent pep talk before facing the world after a run. The elevator ascended, the mechanical whirring a familiar lullaby to her ears.

Suddenly, the dinging halted mid-tone, and the elevator jolted to a stop. Y/n's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as the lights flickered once, twice, and then went out. Panic surged through her, a sudden and unwelcome guest. She fumbled for her phone, her trembling fingers finally locating the screen, which illuminated her surroundings with a cold, blue light. The elevator was eerily silent now, save for the sound of her own shallow breaths echoing in the confined space. She tapped the emergency call button, her voice shaky as she reported the situation. The voice on the other end was calm, assuring her help was on the way.

As the minutes stretched into an uncomfortable silence, she heard a soft sigh from the corner opposite her. She looked up, and there he was—Arthur, the YouTuber she'd been obsessing over for months. The light from her phone cast an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting his sharp jawline and the dark circles under his eyes. He looked just as surprised as she felt, his hair a bit more disheveled than in his videos. "Well, this is a bit awkward," he murmured, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Y/n's brain scrambled to process the situation. This was surreal—trapped in a tiny elevator with the person she'd watched countless times on her laptop screen. She managed a shaky laugh, her cheeks flushing with a mix of excitement and embarrassment. "Yeah, you could say that," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. The elevator's emergency light flickered on, casting a faint glow and revealing more of Arthur's presence. He leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets, casually slouching in a way that made him seem both approachable and incredibly out of place in the stark, metal box.

"Did you know," Arthur began, his voice smooth and even, "that the chances of getting stuck in an elevator are about one in ten thousand?" The tension in the air eased slightly as he spoke, his tone filled with a mild amusement that was oddly comforting. "I read that somewhere. I guess we're both just really lucky today, huh?" Y/n couldn't help but chuckle nervously, her eyes flicking to his. She hadn't expected him to be so...normal. So chatty.

He took a step closer, the light from her phone casting a dance of shadows across his face. "Or maybe we're just part of a statistical anomaly," he continued, his smile growing. "You know, like the one where you're more likely to be struck by lightning than to win the lottery, but people still buy tickets every week."

Y/n felt a spark of connection, the kind that ignites in the most unexpected of places. She nodded, her voice finding a bit more of its usual lilt. "I suppose we could be the unlucky winners of the 'Elevator Entrapment Lottery'."

Arthur's laugh filled the small space, warming it up like a cup of tea on a cold winter's day. "Exactly! I'm Arthur, by the way," he said, extending his hand. Y/n took it, feeling the warmth of his palm and the strength of his grip. His handshake was firm, yet gentle, like he was reassuring her without saying a word.

"I'm Y/n," she replied, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. She couldn't believe she was actually talking to him, her crush, in such a bizarre setting. "So, what brings you here?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going despite the awkwardness.

"I had a meeting with a producer," Arthur said, his eyes scanning the elevator's control panel as if looking for an escape. "And you? You don't exactly look like you're dressed for a meeting."

Y/n chuckled, feeling a little less star-struck. "Just finished a run. I was heading to grab a shower before I met up with some friends." She paused, realizing she was still holding his hand. She gently pulled away, her cheeks burning. "Sorry, I just...you know, with the shock and all..."

Arthur waved it off, his smile genuine. "No worries. I've had worse starts to my day." He leaned back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. "So, Y/n, what do you do when you're not getting stuck in elevators?"

Inwardly, Arthur couldn't believe his luck—or perhaps misfortune, depending on how he looked at it. He'd always been a bit awkward around girls, especially attractive ones. He felt his heart racing faster than it had been during his last marathon livestream. She was beautiful, with her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light. He hoped she couldn't hear the pounding in his chest. He'd always imagined meeting someone like her under more...glamorous circumstances.

"Oh, I'm just a university student," Y/n said, her voice filled with the confidence of someone who knew their own worth. "Studying film theory. I'm actually a big fan of your channel," she added with a shy smile. Arthur's stomach did a flip-flop. A fan? Here? Now? The universe had a peculiar sense of humor.

"Really?" Arthur asked, genuinely surprised. "What do you like about it?" He leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued.

"Well," Y/n began, her voice gaining confidence, "I love how you dissect the dynamics of the couples. You make it seem like a science, but with all the drama and emotions thrown in. It's like watching a reality TV show with a psychologist's commentary."

Arthur's eyes lit up, his chest swelling with pride. "That's exactly what I aim for," he said, his voice earnest. "I mean, we all love love, but it's fascinating to see how different people navigate it. Plus, the occasional drama is just...delicious."

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up, and she ducked her head slightly. "And it doesn't hurt that you're, you know, attractive," she mumbled, immediately regretting her words. She cringed internally, expecting a cold shoulder or a brush-off. Instead, Arthur chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Well, thank you," he said, his voice warm. "But I'm just a guy with a camera and too many opinions."

The conversation flowed easily between them, their shared love for analyzing relationships and storytelling providing a natural bridge. They talked about their favorite movies, books, and even swapped a few funny dating horror stories. Y/n found herself relaxing in Arthur's company, his charm and wit drawing her in. She'd always thought he was handsome, but the way he listened, really listened, made him even more appealing.

*****

As the minutes ticked by, the elevator grew warmer. Y/n could feel the heat prickling her skin, the sweat from her run now mixing with a nervous sheen. She pushed a loose strand of hair off her forehead and took a step closer to Arthur, unconsciously seeking shade from the tiny beam of light coming from her phone. "It's getting a bit toasty in here," she said, her voice a little breathless.

Arthur nodded, his eyes flicking to her gym attire. "You're probably overdressed for this sauna we've found ourselves in," he said with a smirk. Without warning, he pulled off his shirt, revealing a set of toned abs that looked like they'd been chiseled by a Greek god. The air in the elevator seemed to thicken, charged with a sudden tension that had nothing to do with their predicament.

Y/n's eyes widened, and she couldn't help but stare for a moment before averting her gaze. "Sorry," Arthur said, a hint of self-consciousness in his voice. "It's just, I run hot."

Inwardly, Y/n was screaming. It was one thing to fawn over him on her laptop screen, his shirtless form a pixelated fantasy she could control with the click of a button, but this was real life. He was right there, his bare skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, his muscles rippling in the weak light. She felt a sudden and intense urge to reach out and touch him, to see if he was as solid as he looked. But she resisted, folding her arms over her chest instead and focusing on the cold metal of the elevator wall.

"It's okay," she said, her voice a little too high. "I mean, it's not like we're strangers anymore, right?" She forced a laugh, trying to play it cool. "And I guess we're both stuck here, so..."

Arthur looked over at her, his eyes lingering for a moment on her form in the tank top and workout shorts. The fabric clung to her in all the right places, revealing the athletic figure she'd worked hard to maintain. He swallowed, feeling his own body respond to the sight. He'd always prided himself on being professional, on keeping his personal and online lives separate, but here he was, stuck in a tiny space with a fan who was also, unfortunately, incredibly attractive.

The elevator groaned, the sound cutting through their conversation like a knife. They both jumped, the sudden noise a stark reminder of their situation. "Looks like we're going nowhere fast," Arthur said, trying to keep his voice light.

Y/n nodded, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and fear. "I hope they hurry," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don't worry," Arthur said, his tone reassuring. "We've got each other for company. Could be worse, right?"

Y/n's heart raced as she tried to convince herself that he didn't feel the electricity zipping through the air. She took a deep breath, her eyes lingering on the shadows that played across his bare chest. The urge to lean in, to feel the warmth of his skin against hers, was overwhelming. She bit her bottom lip, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. He was just a YouTuber, she reminded herself, not some sort of superhero here to sweep her off her feet—even if he did have the body of one.

"You know," Arthur said, breaking the tension with a lopsided grin, "I've always wondered what people do when they're stuck in elevators. It's like a trope in movies, right?"

Y/n's cheeks burned, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was hinting at something. "Yeah," she murmured, her eyes darting to his. "They usually fuck." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately wished she could take them back.

Arthur's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Is that what you had in mind?" he teased, his voice low and intimate. Y/n's heart skipped a beat, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. It was one thing to fantasize about him in the privacy of her own room, but to have him flirt with her in real life? Her brain was a jumble of thoughts and emotions, and she had no idea how to respond.

But before she could even attempt to form a coherent thought, Arthur's expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eye giving way to something more serious. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice sincere. "That was unprofessional of me. You're a fan, and I shouldn't—"

Y/n held up a hand, cutting him off. "It's okay," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just as much to blame for the awkwardness here." She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "But...if you weren't, you know, Arthur from YouTube, and we were just two people stuck in an elevator...would you have made that joke?"

Arthur studied her for a moment, his gaze intense in the dim light. "If we weren't who we are," he said slowly, "and we were just two people, I might have been flirting for real."

Y/n's heart stuttered in her chest, her eyes locked on his. "Might have been?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur's expression grew serious, his eyes searching hers. "Maybe it wasn't a joke," he said, taking a step closer. "Maybe I was just testing the waters."

Y/n's pulse quickened, her breath hitching as Arthur's hand reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. His touch was feather-light, sending a shiver down her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation before looking back up at him. "What does that mean?" she whispered.

Arthur leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. "It means," he murmured, "that I've noticed you're not just any fan." He paused, his hand lingering near her face. "You're someone I could see myself getting to know outside of this metal cage."

Y/n's eyes fluttered shut, her heart racing. She'd never been so close to Arthur, never felt his breath on her skin. When she opened her eyes, she found him looking at her with an intensity that stole her words. The elevator's emergency light flickered again, casting his features in a strobe of shadows and light. She stepped closer, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

"Really?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Because I've thought about you a lot, too." It was out before she could think better of it, but the words felt right, like they'd been waiting for this moment.

Arthur leaned in closer, his eyes searching hers. "In what ways?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through her very core.

Y/n felt her cheeks flush even hotter, but she met his gaze with determination. "I mean, I've wondered what it would be like to talk to you," she said, her voice a little shaky. "To see if you're as charming in person as you are on screen."

Arthur's smile grew, a playful glint in his eye. "And?"

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "Well, you're definitely more charming in person," she admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. "But I've also thought about other things."

Arthur's grin grew, his eyes never leaving hers. "Such as?"

Y/n's heart was racing so fast she could feel it in her fingertips. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "I've, uh, wondered what your lips would feel like," she blurted out, her cheeks aflame.

Arthur's eyes widened, and for a moment, she was sure she'd made a terrible mistake. But then his smile grew, and he leaned in even closer, his toned body mere inches from hers. "Is that so?" he whispered, his voice a delicious caress.

Y/n nodded, unable to look away from the heat in his gaze. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, could almost taste the anticipation on the air. "Yes," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Arthur's hand reached out, his thumb ghosting over her lower lip. "Well, then," he said, his voice a whisper that seemed to resonate through her entire body, "we should probably test that theory."

Y/n's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in, her heart racing so fast she could feel it in her ears. His hand cupped her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers as he closed the gap between them. Their lips met, and it was nothing like she'd ever imagined. It was soft and gentle, yet filled with a passion that seemed to ignite the very air around them. The metal walls of the elevator disappeared, replaced by the intoxicating scent of him, the heat of his body, and the feeling of his skin against hers.

*****

The world outside the elevator ceased to exist as they kissed, each one deeper and more intense than the last. Arthur's free hand found the small of her back, pulling her closer as if he could somehow absorb her into himself. Y/n's hands tentatively found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart mirroring her own. The moment was surreal, a dream come true in the most unexpected of places.

As their kiss grew more urgent, the elevator gave a sudden jolt, startling them apart. The lights flickered back on, and the mechanical sounds of the elevator resuming its ascent filled the space. They both looked at each other, eyes wide with shock and excitement. "Well," Arthur said, his voice husky, "that was unexpected."

Y/n couldn't agree more. She felt like she was floating, her knees wobbly and her heart racing. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "But not entirely unwelcome."

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the next floor. The doors slid open, and the cool air from the hallway rushed in, a stark contrast to the heat between them. Arthur's hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb tracing small circles that sent shivers down her spine. "I guess we should get out of here before someone sees us," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

Y/n nodded, her legs feeling like jelly as she stepped out of the elevator. Arthur followed, his eyes never leaving hers as they moved into the corridor. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the promise of more than just a kiss in those warm brown depths. As they made their way to the elevator's control panel, she heard a crackling sound over the intercom.

"Ah, looks like you two had quite the moment there," the operator's voice chuckled, the sound echoing through the small space. Y/n's cheeks went from pink to scarlet, and she buried her face in her hands, mortified.

Arthur's eyes widened, and he looked at her with a mix of amusement and concern. "Is that true?" he whispered, his hand reaching out to gently touch her elbow.

Y/n nodded, her cheeks feeling like they were on fire. "I think he heard everything," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Arthur chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a thrill through her. "Well, in that case," he said, leaning closer to the intercom, "I suppose I should ask you out, then." His eyes twinkled with mischief, and she could see the corners of his mouth curve up in a grin.

The operator's laugh crackled over the speaker. "That's the spirit, son!" he exclaimed. "Now don't let me interrupt your romantic rescue!"

Y/n peeked through her fingers, her cheeks burning as Arthur's grin grew wider. "I'm holding you to that," she said, her voice muffled by her palms.

Arthur chuckled, the sound rumbling through the elevator like a gentle earthquake. He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "We're not done yet."

With a swift movement, he pulled his shirt back on, the fabric whispering against his skin. Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the loss of the view, but the promise in his eyes was more than enough to keep her excitement alight. They stepped out into the hallway, the cold air a stark contrast to the warmth of their shared moment.

Arthur took out his phone, his thumbs dancing over the screen as he saved her number with a grin. "There," he said, holding up the device to show her. "Now I can officially say I know a film theory student who can appreciate a good plot twist."

Y/n laughed, feeling a little more at ease now that they had some semblance of normalcy back. "And I can say I've been kissed by ArthurTv," she teased, her voice still a little shaky from the excitement.

Arthur's smile grew, but there was a hint of seriousness in his eyes. "Just maybe don't go telling people that part," he said, a little too casually. "I don't want to start any rumors."

Y/n nodded, feeling the weight of his words. She knew he was right; the last thing either of them needed was for their impromptu elevator romance to become fodder for the tabloids. "Your secret's safe with me," she assured him, her voice still a little breathless.

*****

They walked down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls. Y/n couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that their time in the elevator was over. It had been like a bubble, a private little world where she could be herself without the pressure of the outside. But the thrill of their shared secret was almost as exhilarating as the kiss itself.

As they approached her apartment door, Arthur's hand brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her. She looked up at him, her heart racing. "Thank you," she said, her voice a little shaky. "For making this...less terrible."

He chuckled, his eyes warm. "My pleasure," he replied, leaning against the wall. "But now that we're out, I guess we should get back to reality."

Y/n nodded, her hand resting on the doorknob. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice a little sad. "But I'm not sure I'm ready for reality yet."

Arthur stepped closer, his hand covering hers on the knob. "Well, how about we make a deal?" he suggested, his eyes searching hers. "We'll keep this between us, for now. Just two people who got stuck in an elevator and had a bit of an adventure."

Y/n felt a thrill run through her at the thought of their secret, the excitement of something just for them. "Okay," she agreed, her voice a whisper. "But just one more kiss, to remember it by."

Arthur's smile grew, and he leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek once more. Their lips met again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate. It was like they were trying to memorize every detail of each other, to burn the moment into their memories. Y/n could feel the warmth of his skin, the gentle scrape of his stubble, the way his breath mingled with hers. It was a kiss that promised more than just friendship, more than just a passing encounter.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/n felt a little dizzy, her heart racing. "I'll hold you to that date," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Arthur's eyes searched hers, the intensity of his gaze making her knees feel like they might give out. "You better," he said, his voice a low murmur. "I don't want to be the guy who leaves a girl hanging, especially not one who's seen me half-dressed."

With one last smile, Y/n turned the doorknob and slipped into her apartment, the cool air of her home a stark contrast to the heat of Arthur's presence. She watched him disappear down the hallway, his form swallowed by the shadows. As she closed the door, she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her cheek, the taste of his kiss lingering on her lips.

Her mind raced with thoughts of their encounter, the way his eyes had lit up when she'd confessed her interest, the thrill of his touch. It was as if she'd stepped into one of the movies she studied, a chance meeting with a dashing hero that led to a passionate embrace. But this was real life, and she was still Y/n, the university student with the crush on the YouTube star.

Arthur walked down the hallway, his hand still tingling from where it had held hers. He couldn't believe he'd kissed a fan—let alone one as beautiful and intriguing as she was. He'd always tried to keep his personal life separate from his online persona, but something about her had made him throw caution to the wind.

Y/n watched Arthur retreat, his form growing smaller and smaller until he was just a memory in the corridor. Her heart raced with the excitement of what had just happened, the impossibility of it all. She'd never imagined her crush on him could lead to something real.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23

[viharbinger]

A Proper Husband

To Know: wife!reader is shorter than Arthur , fluff and fluff only mwuah

When Arthur came back to the camp from the mayor's party in St Denis, you were all over him. His hair was combed, his suit was tailored nicely, everything you didn't think your mud loving husband could become.

He came back a few hours after dinner and you gasped at the mere sight of him. "Who is this handsome, proper and dressed up fellow?" You gush, walking up to him to adjust his blazer. He chuckles as a response, standing still so you could admire him longer. "Your husband, ma'am." He clears his throat and plays along, ears warm and stomach tingly from the sudden affection.

"Ah! And you combed!" You gush even more, pulling his tall stature down to press kisses all over his face, tickled by his stubble. And he squints everytime you brush your lips near his eyes. You're just not used to seeing him all cleaned up for a party, the last time you did was your wedding and unfortunately, it only lasted for a while!

"Get a room." John sneers as he walks past the two of you. You finally stop kissing him and cup his face gently. You were about to say something again but the setting was just perfect. Javier was singing and playing his guitar, and everyone in camp was either getting ready for bed or dancing with one another.

"I would love to be danced by a suited man once in a while." You grin cheekily, tip toeing your fingers up his shoulder. He laughs as a response, quick to grab your hands on his shoulder to bring you closer to the source of the music.

You both swung with each other, danced left and right, maybe stepped on one another's foot once or twice and tracked dirt all over his expensive dress pants. But at least you had a great time with the love of your life. And it's not often you see your husband in a clean getup!

And so, your night consisted of countless kisses and giggles, dancing and singing. You couldn't have had it any other way.

[sallowsarchives]

Beneath the Battles (Final)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: You and Arthur finally face your true feelings and past grievances, breaking down the barriers that have kept you apart. Word Count: 8.8k  Warnings/Tags: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MINORS DNI. No use of y/n, explicit language, angst with fluff, size difference (Arthur is a big guy), oral (female receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, Arthur pulls out, a little roughness, aftercare, SMUT with plot A/N: AHHH, here’s the final part!! I’d like to formally apologize for taking so long to update, I actually ended up scrapping and rewriting it, which took longer than expected. I hope this makes up for it. Once again, thank you to those who read this story and for all your lovely comments!

Read on AO3

The mansion loomed in the distance, its imposing structure partially obscured by the dense trees and underbrush that surrounded it, its windows glimmering faintly under the moonlight, casting a soft glow on the well-kept grounds. 

The night was unnervingly quiet, the kind of stillness that breeds caution. After days of scouting, the mansion was finally dark and silent, just as expected. Its owners were away traveling, leaving only a few guards to patrol the surrounding grounds.

The plan was straightforward: sneak into the mansion, locate the concealed safe, and disappear with the loot before anyone was the wiser. It seemed like a simple enough task—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You’re crouched behind the mansion's back door, fingers deftly working through the lock. With a final click, the lock gave way, and you quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind you with practiced ease. 

The air inside the mansion was heavy, filled with the scent of polished wood and aged stone. Once your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtained windows, you moved swiftly through the shadowed corridors, your footsteps barely making a sound on the ornate rugs that lined the floors.

Just as you rounded the corner, you find yourself coming to a sudden halt.

A man stood before the very door leading to your prize. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had an air of confidence that immediately put you on edge. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy trying to jimmy open the lock. 

You cursed under your breath. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he here?

This man was no bumbling thief; his movements were too precise, too deliberate. Whoever he was, he knew what he was doing, and that realization sent a wave of frustration through you. If he got to the safe first, all your planning, all your risk, would be for nothing.

You stayed hidden behind a wall as you considered your options. Confronting him could blow your cover, but waiting too long could mean losing the item. 

Deciding to take the upper hand, you crept closer, making sure to keep to the shadows with calculated movements to avoid detection.

Once you were close enough, you cleared your throat, the sound slicing through the stillness like a knife just as he managed to break the lock. 

The sudden noise startled him, and he froze, his head snapping toward the source of the disturbance. The look of surprise and irritation on his face was fleeting, quickly replaced by a calculating stare as he took in your presence.

You took a moment to assess him. A rugged, handsome face with piercing blue-green eyes that locked onto yours, their intensity making it clear that he was not easily intimidated. 

“Well, well,” you said, your voice laced with a mix of amusement and irritation. “Looks like we both had the same idea. Didn’t think I'd run into competition tonight. What’s your game, stranger?”

You kept your voice light but there was an edge to it. You had scouted this place for weeks, and you weren’t about to let some stranger steal it out from under you.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm before replying with a low Southern drawl that sent a chill down your spine.

"I reckon I oughta be askin' you that too, miss. Ain't seen you around here when I was scoutin' the place, so I guess you're after the same prize."

“Perhaps. Too bad there’s only one prize in that safe,” you said, eyeing the opened safe behind him. 

He raised an eyebrow, a small, cocky smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’ll see who gets it first.”

You didn’t wait for him to make the first move. 

In a flash, you darted forward, aiming to dodge him and get to the safe. But he was quick—quicker than you expected. He sidestepped your advance, grabbing your arm as you tried to slip past him.

“Not so fast, darlin’,” he said, his grip firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a breathless laugh escaping you as you spun around to face him again, eyes flashing with determination. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” 

Without warning, both of you drew your weapons in a swift motion, yours a knife and his a pistol. You knew you were at a disadvantage, the cold steel of his gun giving him the upper hand. But you weren’t about to back down.

A game of cat and mouse ensued, each of you circling the other, quips exchanged with a tension neither acknowledged. 

You racked your thoughts for every trick you knew to try and outsmart him but in a moment of distraction, you seized your opportunity as a noise from outside drew both your attention. 

He briefly looked away and you grabbed the nearest object—a heavy, decorative vase—and hurled it in his direction, your sudden movement catching his attention once more.

“Goddammit!” he swore as the vase sailed through the air. 

The unexpected move caught him off guard, and he instinctively raised his arm to shield himself as the vase struck his arm, causing his pistol to slip from his grip and clatter onto the floor. The shattering noise echoed, no doubt alerting the guards outside.

You wasted no time and sprinted towards him, kicking the gun to the other side of the room. Ducking under his arm with practiced agility, you bolted toward the safe, your nimble fingers swiftly retrieving the necklace inside—a beautiful, intricate piece that promised a hefty pay.

The gleaming jewelry caught your eye, but you didn’t let your guard down. You knew he was still behind you, and the potential for danger was ever-present.

Turning around, you found him standing in place, watching you with an unreadable expression. You eyed him warily, adjusting your stance in case he made any sudden moves. 

To your surprise, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in a gesture that seemed almost admiring.

"I'll give you that one," he said with a chuckle. "But don’t go thinkin' I’ll let ya off that easy next time."

You met his gaze steadily, with the tone in his voice, you couldn't help a smirk of your own.

“Next time?” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of challenge. “You might want to reconsider how you pick your battles.”

He tilted his head slightly, raising a brow. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirk before taking a step back, keeping your eyes on him as you begin to make your exit. 

“Until we meet again, stranger,” you said, voice cool and confident.

His smirk remained, making no move to stop you or follow as you slipped toward the shadows. Once you were sure he wasn’t making any sudden moves, you turned and made your way out. 

The cool night air hits your face as you slip away into the darkness, the necklace secure in your pocket.

Weeks later, you stand before the Van Der Linde gang, newly recruited and eager to prove your worth. As Dutch wraps up your introduction with the gang members, a familiar face catches your eye amidst the crowd—leaning on a wagon, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression from the night at the mansion.

Arthur Morgan, you’ve come to know from Dutch as he introduced him as one of his most trusted men. You could see the recognition in Arthur’s eyes, and you couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto your face. 

“We’ve met,” you said casually, holding his gaze, making his lips twitch, but he remains silent.

And so it was, a few months into your time with the gang, Dutch pairs the two of you together for a job. From the start, things don’t go smoothly. Arthur’s stubbornness clashes with your determination, turning every decision into a heated argument.

"You're too damn cautious," you snap as you crouch behind a rock, waiting to ambush a carriage.

"And you're too damn reckless," he retorts, his voice low but heated.

The frustration between you simmering, neither willing to back down. 

Though the job was a success, it was clear that your relationship had shifted to something far more complex. 

A rivalry that would become full of sharp words, stolen glances, and the kind of tension that made your heart race whenever Arthur Morgan was near. 

The burning in your lungs is the first sensation that pierces through the fog. 

It feels like your chest is on fire, each breath a painful struggle as your body fights to expel the water that had been forced into your lungs. You cough weakly, the sound raw and strained.

The presence of another person over you is the next thing you sense. Their hand cradling your back as the other presses gently on your cheek, their voice a low, comforting murmur that reaches through the haze of pain.

“C’mon, easy now,” a deep voice rang out, soothing but urgent. “Breathe slow. Just breathe.”

As the pain in your chest begins to ease, you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. The rough ground beneath you feels gritty, the chill in the air seeps through your wet clothes, which cling uncomfortably to your damp skin. A persistent throbbing in your temple adds to the disorienting discomfort.

As your sight finally focuses, you see Arthur standing over you, his rugged features marked by concern and relief. His hair was wet and tousled, with a few strands clinging to his forehead, and his face was streaked with water and mud.

“You alright?” His voice is softer now, though it still carries a note of urgency. 

You try to speak, but your voice comes out as a faint, hoarse whisper. Attempting to sit up, you slump back into his arms, completely drained.

Arthur’s hand remains steady, his hand continuing to support you from your back.“Just take it easy, darlin’,” he insists. “We gotta get that nasty cut of yours fixed up.” 

After a moment, he speaks up again. "You scared the hell outta me, you know that?" he says, his tone softer than you expected. Confusion flickers in your eyes as you try to make sense of his reaction.

Arthur quickly brushes it off with a shrug and a quick, dismissive smile. "You good to stand? We need to find a place to camp."

Though slightly dazed, you nod and he begins helping you to your feet, his grip firm but gentle and begins to lead the way.

You take a chance to glance over at the river, your heart sinking. "There goes everything," you mutter, as you thought of all the loot from the stagecoach robbery now lost in those dark waters, swept away without a trace.

Arthur’s eyes follow your gaze. “Yeah, things went south real quick. Can’t say I’m surprised, though. Ain’t never gone smooth with us.”

A weary sigh escapes you. Arthur gives your shoulder a small squeeze, his voice softening. 

“We’ll figure out another way to make it up so we don’t come back empty-handed.”

As you and Arthur push through the thick underbrush, the sun has long set, leaving the sky almost entirely dark and providing scant light. The air is growing colder, and the fatigue from the ordeal is beginning to weigh heavily. 

After a while, Arthur spots a faint outline against the darkening sky. "There," he says, pointing toward the silhouette of a structure hidden among the trees.

You squint and make out the shape of an old, dilapidated cabin. Its roof is partially caved in, and the wooden walls weathered. Still, it seems like a decent refuge for the night.

Arthur leads the both of you towards it, his steps careful as he surveys the area for any signs of danger. He pushes open the creaky door with a grunt, revealing a dusty, cobweb-covered interior. The air inside is stale, but it’s dry and shielded from the elements.

"Looks like this’ll do for tonight," Arthur says, stepping inside and looking around. 

The main room contains a few pieces of furniture: a worn-out sofa, a small wooden table, and a couple of chairs. There’s a door on the left, which you assume leads to a bedroom. 

A stone fireplace stands against one wall, its hearth empty but still looking functional. To the right, you notice a small kitchen area with cabinets lining the wall, hinting at a space used for simple meals.

Arthur moves with practiced caution, his eyes scanning the room as he checks for any signs of danger. He pauses, pulling his pistol from its holster. It seems he managed to keep hold of his weapon and satchel during your fall into the water—an unexpected stroke of luck. 

Once he’s satisfied that the area is clear and no immediate threat is apparent, he nods and holsters the gun.

“Alright, let’s settle in,” he says, guiding you to a nearby chair. “I’ll get a fire going and check for any supplies. You just sit tight and rest.”

You nod, gratefully sinking into the chair. As Arthur moves around the house, you take a moment to let the exhaustion wash over you. 

You hadn’t noticed the several minutes that had passed by where Arthur managed to set up a fire with the dried wood he had found stacked by the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow over the room. 

He turns his attention back to you, a determined look on his face and retrieves a cloth from his satchel, pouring a generous amount of whiskey over it that he must have found when rummaging through the cabinets.

He takes a seat across from you, gaze steady and focused as he carefully examines the gash near your temple. 

“This might sting a bit,” he says softly, his voice carrying a reassuring calm. Gently, he dabs the cloth against the cut, the wound stinging from the contact.

Arthur’s movements are careful and deliberate, his brow furrowed in concentration. As he works, his eyes occasionally meet yours, a mix of concern and resolve evident in his expression. 

You watch him closely, the intensity in his expression a stark contrast to the usual deflective bravado he shows, a rare glimpse of the softer side of him that you don’t often see. 

After finishing with your wound, Arthur sets the cloth aside and glances at the both of you, noting the dampness of your clothes. 

“We’d best find us some dry clothes; ain't no good in keepin' us warm when we're soaked to the bone.”

You respond with a nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the wet garments clinging tightly to your skin. 

He stands up and motions you to follow, moving towards the door on the left you saw earlier. Inside, the room is dimly lit by the fading light seeping through the grime-streaked windows. Old, moth-eaten drapes hang limply from their rods, and the floorboards creak with each step.

There was a rickety, sagging bed with a threadbare quilt, and a lone wooden chest pushed against the wall. You follow behind him, noticing the layer of dust that covers everything, marking the years of abandonment. 

He heads to a chest, prying it open with a groan as the hinges protest, and begins rummaging through the contents.

As he searches for dry clothes, you start to remove some of your damp garments feeling the need to get more comfortable and ease the weight. 

You’re in the process of slipping off your soaked shirt when Arthur turns around, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you in your soaked white chemise, and he quickly averts his gaze, his face flushing a deep red.

“Uh—here,” he stammers, his voice suddenly unsteady as he holds out a faded long brown skirt and a low-necked cotton blouse. “Found these. They should fit.” He glances away, clearly flustered.

Seizing the opportunity, you smirk and tease. “What’s the matter, Arthur? Never seen a woman in her underclothes before? I thought you were used to all sorts of rough and tumble.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, his face turning redder, and he clears his throat, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “Even after gettin' yourself all banged up, you still can’t help but run that smart mouth of yours,” he retorts, trying to mask his embarrassment with a touch of irritation. 

You chuckle at his flustered response, enjoying the rare sight of him so off-balance before taking the clothes from him.

Arthur shifts uncomfortably, casting furtive glances as he takes a change of clothes for himself. He clears his throat again, his usual confidence momentarily eclipsed by awkwardness.

“I’ll, uh, just be outside if you need anything,” he mutters, leaving the room with a hasty step to give you your privacy. 

The door creaks as he pulls it shut, and you can hear him mumbling to himself as he closes it behind him. His grumbling is low and unintelligible, but it brings a faint, amused smile to your lips. You chuckle silently before turning your attention to the garments.

Moments later, you find Arthur standing by the window, now dressed in a fresh set of clothes—worn jeans and a plain gray button up. His silhouette is outlined against the darkness outside. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, its warmth beginning to chase away the chill.

Arthur turns to you, his expression more relaxed now that he's shed his previous discomfort. “Feeling a bit better?” 

You nod. “Yeah, much better. You?”

Arthur gives a small, awkward smile. “I’ll be just fine. Just need to take it easy and let the warmth do its work.” He gestures toward the fire. “Might as well make ourselves comfortable while we can.”

You nod and make your way to sit at the worn out sofa to warm up by the fireplace. After a comfortable silence you finally speak up, your voice soft with gratitude. 

“Thanks for everything, Arthur. I know it’s been a rough day, but I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

Arthur turns to you and nods, his usual gruffness softened by the warmth of the fire and the genuine moment between you. “Don’t mention it. Just doing what needs to be done.”

As the silence settles again, Arthur clears his throat and shifts slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Speaking of rough days… reckon I oughta say somethin’ about that night at the, uh, well, what happened at the Mayor’s party,” he begins, his tone a bit hesitant.

You fold your arms, feeling uncomfortable about bringing it up again, but you know you’ve both put off addressing the issue long enough. You nod, signaling for him to continue.

Arthur looks away for a moment, clearly struggling with how to frame his words. 

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like what happened between us didn’t matter. I guess I thought it’d be better to just… keep things simple and avoid complicatin’ things.”

Your eyes narrow and you let out a sigh. “You already said that but I still don’t know what you mean. If you don’t have anything new to add, then yes, I guess that’s all it was—just a fleeting moment to pass the time while we were stuck in that situation.”

“Godammit, it ain’t like that,” he says, his voice firm but tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You glare at him, standing up as your  anger and frustration begin to boil over. “Then what, Arthur? I’m done with the guessing games. If you can’t be honest with me, then at least stop pretending you care.”

“Oh, is that so? What do you want me to say, huh? That I’ve been usin’ you? That I don’t give a damn? You think that’s gonna make things better?”

“I’m not askin’ you to lay it all out. I’m askin’ you to quit actin’ like none of this means a damn thing. You’re scared to face the truth, and it’s obvious. If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

Arthur steps closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You don’t know a damn thing about what’s goin’ on with me.”

You meet his gaze, your anger unwavering despite the intensity of his look. “Then why don’t you stop hiding behind your excuses and show me what’s real for once? Or are you too scared to face it yourself?” 

His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing as the silence grows heavy between the two of you. You take a deep breath before continuing, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “Everything that happened at that party… it wasn’t just part of the act, was it?”

He looks away, eyes fixed on the ground as his expression hardens. “I was doin’ what we had to,” he says, his voice gruff. “We were pretendin’—had to make it look real.”

“That’s a goddamn lie and you know it,” you retorted. “Everything you did that night, kissing me like it meant something just to suddenly pull away and act like I was something you regretted. Do you have any idea how that felt, Arthur? How it made me feel?”

He flinched at your words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand—”

“Then help me understand! You shut me out, you push me away, and I’m done pretending like it doesn’t hurt.”

Arthur looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw the pain in his eyes, the conflict warring within him. 

Your words hang in the air, and for a moment, you thought he might continue ignoring you, that he’d keep his distance just as he always did. But when his eyes met yours again, there was something raw and unguarded in them that made your heart twist before he spoke, voice filled with a vulnerability you had never seen in him before. 

“That night at the party, when I told you it meant nothing and pushed you away—it wasn’t because I didn’t care, but because I did. I didn’t want you seein’ me as more than just part of this damned life I’ve led.”

“Have you not thought that I’m already a part of this life too? I’m not some innocent bystander in this, Arthur. I’m in it just as much as you are, fighting beside you, continuing to risk everything for the gang. Every time you push me away, it feels like you’re saying I don’t belong, that I’m not worthy of being part of this.”

Arthur’s face softened with regret. “I’m sorry if it came across that way. I’ve just been tryin’ to protect you in my own messed-up way. I don’t want you feelin’ like you’re not part of this, ‘cause you are. More than you know.”

You looked at him, searching for honesty in his eyes. “Then be honest with me, Arthur. Don’t shut me out. I need to know where we stand.”

“I ain’t good enough for you,” he confessed, the words coming out like a reluctant admission. “I’ve done things—bad things. And I know you’ve seen some of it, but you don’t know the half of it. You deserve better than some outlaw who’s spent his life takin’ more than he’s given.”

The silence that followed was thick with emotion, as you both tried to come to terms with the weight of his confession. The barriers between you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the truth of your feelings and the painful realities of the life you both led. 

You stared at him, the anger long dissipated from you as his words sank in. This was it—this was what had been driving him to keep you at arm’s length, to push you away whenever you got too close. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way you did; it was that he didn’t think he was worthy of it.

“Arthur,” you said quietly, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, “I don’t care about what you’ve done, or who you think you are. I care about you. The man who saved me today, who risked everything to make sure I was safe. The man who gives more to the gang than he ever takes for himself—that’s the man I see.”

He shook his head, his expression tortured. “You ain’t seen the worst of me yet.”

“And I don’t care if I do,” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about you, or what I’m willing to accept. I’ve made my choice, Arthur. I’m not turning back.”

He stared at you, his defenses crumbling as the truth of your words hit him. He’d spent so long believing he didn’t deserve anything good, that any softness or kindness was something he had to push away before it could be taken from him. Hell, that’s why it never worked out with Mary, too.

But here you were, standing in front of him, refusing to let him go, even after everything he’d done to keep you at a distance.

He leaned in closer, his free hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

“I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You crack a small smile, your voice laced with a sarcastic edge but softened by the warmth in your eyes. 

“Come on, Arthur. Since when did you become an expert in what I deserve? I’ve been putting up with your brooding for far too long to be picky about the details.”

Arthur’s lips curled into a wry smile as he listened to your response. Despite the gravity of the moment, there was a glimmer of amusement and admiration in his eyes. 

“You know,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of his old charm, “you’ve been a right pain in my ass since day one. Guess that’s why it’s so damn complicated with us. But, damn it, you’re still the only one who can make me see the bright side of this mess.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a challenging look. 

“Oh, is that your way of saying I’m the best you’ve got? How flattering.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe more than you know. You’ve got a knack for makin’ everything seem less bleak, even when you’re makin’ my life hell.”

After a silent moment, Arthur reaches out, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw which sends shivers down your spine.

“I’ve been a damn fool,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “for fightin’ this… for fightin’ you.”

Your heart ached at his words, at the honesty you had never expected from him. 

You had always seen him as a man of few words, someone who hid his true self behind a wall of sarcasm and indifference. But now, as he stood in front of you, you saw the truth in his eyes—the feelings he had tried so hard to deny.

Before you could respond, Arthur closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. 

The kiss was a heady mix of passion and urgency, a kiss full of the unresolved tension and undeniable attraction that had been building between you. 

As the kiss deepens, you feel Arthur’s hand move to tangle in your hair, his fingers gently gripping the strands as he kisses you harder, his body pressing hard against yours.

You respond with equal fervor, your hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer before you both pull away for air, breaths labored with his chest rising and falling against yours.

Arthur nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He begins to trail soft kisses along your neck, his lips barely grazing your skin as his voice drops to a whisper, full of longing and relief.

“Been powerless against you since the moment you joined the gang. Reckon it all started that night at the mansion when we were both after the same prize.”

A low hum escapes him as your fingers thread through his hair, your touch sending shivers down his spine. He nuzzles further into your neck as he continues to mumble against your skin. 

“Wanted you so bad, and damn if that don’t scare the absolute life out of me.”

Arthur continues to kiss your neck, his lips moving down to your shoulder as his hands tighten their grip on your hips. The intensity of his touch grows as he pulls you even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours, enveloping you in a wave of warmth and desire. 

You lean in closer, your lips grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper, your voice trembling with the same urgency that you hear in his. “Then stop holding back, Arthur. I want you.”

Your words seem to break whatever last bit of restraint he was clinging to. He lets out a low growl, and before you can even take another breath, his lips crash against yours once more, all fire and desperation. It’s a kiss that sears through you leaving no room for doubt.

Without breaking the kiss, he nudges you back until you feel the edge of the table pressing against the backs of your thighs. In one fluid motion, Arthur’s hands slip from your hips to your waist, lifting you just enough to set you down on the table's surface.

He steps closer, sliding between your legs as his hands grip your hips possessively. You felt his hips pressing insistently against your core, the contact electrifying and intense. 

He was achingly hard, a burning pressure that felt almost unbearable through the fabric of your clothes. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, every shift of his body against yours sending waves of sensation coursing through you.

His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard living, left your waist and slipped under your shirt to savor the softness of your skin. His skilled fingers traced over your ribs before reaching your breasts. 

You've never been so glad to not be wearing your chemise underneath your clothes.

You inhaled sharply as he took one of your nipples between his fingers and pinched. "So responsive." Arthur murmurs against your mouth before pulling away and breaking the kiss. You chance a glance at his face, his eyes dark with hunger. 

With deliberate slowness, his hands begin their descent, gliding down to your calves, his fingers tracing the curve of your legs. 

He caresses your skin, almost reverently, before sliding up to the hem of your skirt. You shiver at the sensation as he pushes the fabric higher, gathering it around your waist, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Arthur’s eyes drink in the sight of you, his gaze heavy with desire. His hands, still lingering on the edge of your skirt, begin to trail slowly up your thighs, his touch careful and teasing. 

He pauses just as his fingers brush against the most sensitive part of your skin, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark and questioning. 

He’s waiting, holding back, as if needing your permission to go further. He doesn't move, his touch achingly close yet frustratingly distant.

"Arthur…" you plead, your voice edged with frustration.

He meets your gaze, lips twitch up in a slight smirk as his eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You can do better than that, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

You scowl, making him smirk wider, the pressure making your frustration boil over. "Arthur, just—"

His fingers remain tantalizingly still, his eyes locked onto yours with a challenging gleam. The irritation fuels your desperation, and you let out a shaky breath, finally conceding.

"Arthur... please, I need you. I can’t stand it anymore," you say, your voice softened by surrender, the depth of your need evident.

Arthur’s lips curl into a satisfied grin as he hears your plea. He hums with approval and without another word, you watch as he leans down, his mouth finding your core with a fervent intensity, enveloping you in a warm, consuming embrace.

You gasped out as pleasure rippled through you, his name tumbling from your lips. Your fingers fly down to his hair, clenching at the strands and pull him closer as you surrender to the waves of sensation that crash over you.

He groans against you, his lips teasing the sensitive bud before his tongue moves with deliberate, savoring strokes, licking up your wetness. The taste of you lingers, smearing over his lips and dripping down his chin.

You feel his hand move between your thighs, his touch igniting another wave of pleasure as his thumb gently grazes your clit. The added sensation heightens your arousal, making your breath come in short, gasping bursts.

Without warning, he slips one of his fingers inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of intense pleasure through you. 

He moves with practiced ease, curling and thrusting as he builds a rhythm that makes you gasp and moan. Each movement is designed to amplify the pleasure he's already delivering, his touch skillfully coaxing you closer to the edge.

“Oh God—Arthur!”

His hands pick up the pace, moving faster and with more pressure, targeting that one sensitive spot inside you while his mouth continues to work on your delicate bud. You tighten around his fingers, feeling your legs start to tremble.

You were at the height of your pleasure, your climax so near it felt like you might explode at any moment. Arthur seems to sense it too, his movements expertly bringing you to the brink. 

But just as you're about to come, he abruptly pulls away, smirking down at you. You let out a frustrated whine, your body still trembling from the near climax. 

"Why—" you gasp, eyes pleading as you look up at him, your voice a mix of annoyance and need. The sudden halt only intensifies your frustration, making your desire for release even more unbearable.

Arthur leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t worry, darlin’, I ain’t finished yet," he murmurs, his voice a low, gritty whisper. "Wanna feel you wrapped around me when you come."

With a firm, decisive moment, his hands wrap beneath your bum, lifting you effortlessly. He carries you toward the worn couch, his strength palpable as he places you gently but firmly onto the cushions before positioning himself above you, his gaze never leaving yours.

Arthur’s hands move to unbutton his jeans with a practiced ease before shedding them, revealing his lengthy member, its impressive size immediately drawing your wide-eyed attention.

You can’t help but stare, your eyes widening with a mix of awe and anticipation as you take in the full extent of his arousal. The sight of him, so well-endowed and commanding, sends a thrill of excitement through you, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Arthur notices your reaction, a grin curling on his lips. He moves closer, his hands firmly cupping your face as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, capturing your lips in a deep, urgent kiss. 

While his mouth claims yours, his hands move with purpose, deftly working to remove your blouse. You respond eagerly, your hands sliding over his chest and working at the buttons of his shirt until it falls away. 

The two of you move with a synchrony of urgency and passion, shedding the rest of your clothes with a desperate need. Each article of clothing is discarded in a flurry of movement, leaving you both bare. 

Arthur pauses, his eyes dark and intense as they roam over your bare form with a feral hunger. A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes gleaming with a primal desire. 

“Shit,” he rasps, his voice rough and throaty. “Can’t believe I held myself back for so long.” His gaze lingers on you, filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger, as he savors the sight of you completely bare before him. 

He wraps your legs around his hips, drawing you closer as he positions himself between you. With one hand gripping himself and the other steadying your leg, he lines himself up, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he looks down at you.

“You ready for this?” 

You nod, your eyes locked onto his, filled with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. “Please, Arthur,” you reply, your voice trembling slightly. “I want you.”

Arthur’s lips curl into a fierce, satisfied smile before pressing himself against you and slowly begins to enter you, his gaze never leaving your face as a gasp escapes your lips, your body tensing with the intense sensation. 

You arch against him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you adjust to his size. The stretch and pressure of him inside you sends a wave of pleasure through you, your eyes fluttering closed momentarily as you moan out his name. 

He growls in response, his face contorted with both pleasure and concentration. “Goddamn you’re so tight.” 

His hands tighten on your hips, grip firm and possessive as waits for you to adjust around him. After a moment, you grip his shoulders tighter, your nails digging in as you try to steady yourself.

“Arthur,” you murmur, struggling to control your breath. “I need you to move.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice dripping with raw desire. His eyes search yours for a sign of hesitation but find only eager need.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with urgency. “Please.”

With a satisfied nod, Arthur begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one bringing a wave of pleasure that makes your body tremble. 

As he finds a rhythm, his movements become more intense and fervent, his eyes never leaving your face. His breathing grows heavier, matching the pace of his thrusts as he drives deeper into you.

“Arthur, please…faster.”

He meets your gaze and with a firm grip, he pushes your leg further back against you, angling himself deeper. 

You gasp at the shift, your body arching and gripping him tighter as waves of pleasure crash over you. Each thrust sends a jolt of ecstasy through you, your breaths coming in quick, sharp bursts as you lose yourself in the mounting sensation.

His thrusts become more urgent, each movement sending a jolt of ecstasy through you. “That’s it,” he murmurs between breaths, “let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You moan in response, the sound escaping in a breathless gasp as his relentless pace overwhelms you, crying out his name as your voice trembles with pleasure. 

Arthur’s eyes darken with desire, and he groans deeply. He takes your face in his hand, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. his gaze intently fixed on you, taking in every reaction, every flush of pleasure, driving him wild.

He can’t help but be captivated by the way you look at him, your gaze locking onto his with a mix of urgency and raw longing.

He’s not going to last long. Not when you look at him like that.

Arthur pushes your leg further back, nearly folding you in half as his thrusts become rougher and more intense, driving into you with a forceful rhythm. Each thrust relentlessly hits the spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. 

You feel yourself tighten around him, eliciting a deep groan from him. 

His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core and begins to apply a firm, rhythmic pressure, his touch syncing with the hard, relentless pace of his thrusts.

“Arthur,” you moan, your voice a mixture of desperation and bliss.

Arthur grits his teeth, the effort to maintain control clear on his face. “Come on, sweetheart, let go for me… Wanna feel ya,” he growls, his voice thick with desire and urgency. 

The combined stimulation of his touch and his relentless thrusting pushes you toward the edge, your body quaking as the waves of pleasure crest and crash over you. His words, laced with raw need, tip you over that edge, breaking the last of your control. 

You let go completely, surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure as you tremble and gasp in his grasp, your body responding to his every command.

“That’s it,” Arthur growls, his voice rough with pleasure. “Good girl. Feels so good squeezing around me… there we go.”

He moves his hands to your hips, his own breathing ragged as he feels you tighten and convulse around him. He continues to drive into you through the waves of pleasure, his thrusts becoming even more urgent and relentless. You cry out, the sensation overwhelming.

Finally, with a groan of his own, he thrusts deep one last time before pulling out, taking his length into his hand. His body shudders, breath coming in rough, uneven gasps as he finds his release, spilling onto your stomach as the tension finally breaks.

He collapses onto you, his breath ragged and heavy, both of you trying to catch your breaths. After a while, you gently pat him, feeling the weight of him pressing down on you, and he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes half-lidded with contentment.

Arthur stands up and grabs the shirt he was wearing, using it to wipe the evidence of his release from your stomach and his. His touch is tender despite the intensity of the moment.

Once he’s finished, he lays back down beside you, pulling you into his arms. With a gentle but firm motion, he adjusts to create enough room for both of you on the worn couch. 

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you settle against him, the warmth of his body providing a soothing contrast to the earlier intensity.

“You alright there?” he asks, his voice soft and slightly teasing as he runs a hand soothingly along your arm.

You nod, your head resting against his shoulder, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, your voice a bit breathless. “Just needed a moment.”

Arthur chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t say I’m sorry we didn’t do this sooner,” he murmurs, his tone filled with genuine warmth. 

You smile, your eyes closing as you let yourself relax into his embrace. “Me neither,” you whisper, feeling the comfort of his presence. “Guess it’s a good thing we finally did.”

A comfortable silence envelops you both, the warmth of the fire crackling softly in the background. As you settle into the quiet, the room is filled with a tranquil intimacy. 

The gentle heat from the fire and the flickering light cast a soft glow over your resting forms, guiding you both into a peaceful rest.

The next morning, the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the curtains gently warms your face, coaxing you awake from your slumber. 

You blink, slightly disoriented, and notice a quilt draped over you—a cozy, unexpected comfort that you don’t remember covering yourself with. 

You stretch out and sit up, searching for Arthur, but find that he’s no longer beside you. The space next to you is empty, leaving only the lingering warmth of his presence and the faint scent of him in the air.

You wrap the quilt around you before making your way to the bedroom, where you begin to get dressed in your now-dry clothes. 

As you finish getting dressed, you head outside, still wondering where Arthur could be. Opening the front door, you’re startled to find him now dressed in his own clothes and standing with both your horses.

He’s feeding his horse calmly, the sight of the horses safe and sound, along with Arthur’s relaxed demeanor, fills you with a mix of relief and surprise. 

He looks up, catching your gaze with a casual, knowing smile, clearly at ease despite the unexpected circumstances.

“Mornin’, sorry I didn’t want to wake ya,” he says, his voice warm and relaxed.

You blink, still processing the sight before you. “Wait, how did you find the horses? They ran off during that chase,” you ask, your voice filled with surprise and confusion.

Arthur grins, a touch of pride in his eyes. “Managed to track ’em down this mornin’. They’d wandered off a ways but were easy enough to follow. Took a bit of patience, but I got ’em back here safe and sound.” He pats one of the horses affectionately.

You let out a relieved laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Well, I’m definitely grateful. I wasn’t sure how we’d get them back.

Arthur gives you a casual nod, his eyes still carrying a hint of satisfaction. “We should probably think about getting back to camp soon. Can’t say Dutch’ll be too happy about us comin’ back empty-handed.”

You frown slightly, your mind starting to turn over the implications. “Yeah, he might not be too pleased about that.”

Suddenly, something clicks in your mind, your expression brightening with realization. You make your way to your horse, patting her affectionately as you reach her.

You move to the saddlebag and start fishing around inside before pulling out a small pouch. Arthur watches you with curiosity as you open it, revealing the jewelry you had remembered stuffing inside. With a proud smile, you show it to Arthur, the glint of the gems catching the light.

Arthur raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well… that’s a nice surprise. Turns out we’re not comin’ back empty-handed after all.” 

He glances at the jewelry, then back at you. “Good thinking.”

You tuck the pouch back into the saddlebag, feeling a surge of relief. “At least we’ve got something to make up for the trouble.”

Arthur shifts, his expression turning serious. “Listen, uh… everything I said last night—I meant it. I care about you, you know.”

You look at him, a soft smile forming on your lips. “I know.”

He pulls you close, and you share a tender kiss, the warmth and reassurance evident in the moment. When you pull away, you give him a playful nudge. “Now, let’s get back to camp.”

Arthur grins, nodding as he mounts his horse. “Lead the way.”

After a few hours of steady travel, you finally crest through the dense woods and emerge into the open area of Shady Belle. 

As you draw closer, you hear John’s voice call out from his post. “Who’s there?”

Arthur raises a hand in greeting, his tone slightly exasperated. “It’s just us two, you idiot.”

John approaches with a grin, clearly relieved to see familiar faces. “Well, well, look who’s back! Didn’t think you’d make it this time.”

His gaze shifts to you, and he notices the cut on your forehead. “What happened there?” he asks, his tone shifting to one of concern. 

“It’s nothing, just a little mishap,” you reply with a shrug and a small reassuring smile. 

John nods, still eyeing the cut with a concerned look. Before he can respond, the sound of Dutch’s voice cuts through the air. 

“There they are!” Dutch strides forward with Hosea, catching the attention of the other gang members. The atmosphere shifts to one of eager anticipation as they approach to welcome you both back.

Arthur and you quickly hitch your horses, and Dutch’s eyes light up with a mix of relief and curiosity. 

“You two look like you’ve had quite the adventure,” he says with a grin. “Let’s hear what you’ve got for us.”

You and Arthur follow Dutch and Hosea inside the house, nodding to the other members who offer warm welcomes at your arrival. 

Once inside, the four of you make your way outside to the terrace to discuss the details. The afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the camp, and you all settle into a comfortable spot.

Hosea’s eyes shift to the cut on your forehead. “You alright?” he asks, his tone filled with concern.

You give a small nod, trying to brush off the worry. “I’ll be alright. Can’t say about the coach, though.”

Hosea raises an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. “The coach, huh? Did something go wrong?”

“The job went well initially. Arthur and I got what we needed, but then things went sideways on the way back.”

Arthur picks up the story, his voice steady. “We ran into trouble. More guards came in hot on our heels, forcing us into some rough terrain. Lost the coach, and then we ended up falling into a river with it.”

You chime in, “The river swept the coach away, taking all the loot with it. We couldn’t salvage anything.”

Dutch’s expression falls. “So, you lost it all?”

Arthur nods, looking apologetic. “Yeah. We couldn’t recover the goods.”

Dutch’s face reflects a mix of disappointment and frustration. “Well, that’s a shame. We coulda used that haul. Least you two are alright, though.”

Hosea tries to lighten the mood. “We’ll bounce back from this. The important thing is that you made it back safely. We’ll sort out the rest.”

Arthur reaches into his satchel and pulls out the small pouch of jewelry from you and a few clipped bundles of cash. He holds them up with a faint, reassuring smile.

“Well, we didn’t lose everything. Reckon this might help make up for it.” 

Arthur hands Hosea the pouch, and Hosea inspects its contents. “With this and the cash we got, I’d say we’re lookin’ at around 800. That should help us get back on our feet.”

Dutch’s eyes light up with relief as he takes in the sight of the recovered items. “Well, that’s a right bit of luck in the middle of all this mess. Better than nothin’.”

Arthur nods, looking somewhat relieved. “Didn’t want to come back here and leave y’all thinkin’ we came up empty.”

Dutch claps Arthur on the shoulder, his mood lifting a bit. “Appreciate that. Let’s get this sorted and move on. We’ve got plenty of work ahead of us.”

Hosea looks over at you and Arthur with a nod of approval. “I gotta hand it to you both. Despite the rough patch, you came through. Good work out there.”

With that, Dutch and Hosea start discussing plans to distribute the recovered items and strategize the next steps.

Over the next few days, the gang once again begins to notice something distinctly different about you and Arthur. 

It’s not just the absence of shouting and tension, but a new, subtle intimacy that marks a significant shift in how you interact. While the first change was notable, this time it's even more pronounced.

Although you and Arthur have kept your more intimate moments away from the prying eyes of the gang, there’s a palpable difference in the way you connect. 

You’re often seen sharing quiet conversations, laughing together, and engaging in playful banter, with soft touches and exchanged smiles now part of your interactions. The closeness between you is evident, and it piques the gang’s curiosity once more.

Speculation runs rife among the camp members about the nature of your evolving relationship. They observe the affectionate gestures and tender glances, each theory more imaginative than the last. 

Despite the growing curiosity, you and Arthur continue to maintain your privacy. When questioned or approached, you both respond with a mix of amused indifference and casual deflection. 

You shrug off the gossip with lighthearted comments or evasive answers, enjoying the newfound closeness while keeping the details of your relationship to yourselves.

On this particular day, while you were engaged in a chore, you overheard Arthur speaking to Dutch, asking why he kept pairing the two of you together despite your apparent dislike for each other. 

You glance over from your place, noting how Dutch seems genuinely puzzled by the question.

“It wasn’t really my call,” Dutch says with a shrug. “That was all Hosea’s idea. I didn’t rightly agree with him and don’t know why the hell he was so insistent or thought it was a good idea, but I just went along with it.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Both your attention shifts to Hosea, who is currently sitting nearby, absorbed in reading a newspaper. 

Despite his apparent focus on the paper, you notice a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t look up or acknowledge you both, but his expression clearly suggests he’s pleased with the outcome of his decision.

The revelation leaves you and Arthur with a mix of emotions, but the smirk on Hosea’s face makes it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

[wildfloweroutlaw]

Reflections

~~~~~

pairing: arthur x female reader

summary: arthur returns home to you after long days on the road, and brings with him a fun new idea.

warnings: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, vaginal sex, i guess kinda soft dom if you squint, maybe not historically accurate terms for clothing?

a/n: sorry if i’m rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve wrote, but i had so much fun doing this! someone throw a bucket of cold water on me.

word count: 1.6K

~~~~~~

The feeling of hot kisses and Arthur’s scruff crept down your exposed collar bone. His form rested heavily atop your own, gently pressing you into the mattress below. You tangled your hands in his shirt, tugging at it with impatience.

“So god damn beautiful…” Arthur murmured between kisses, eyes soaking in your half naked form below him. His hand snaked its way down to your waistband and slid underneath with practiced ease. He palmed you gently through your panties, eliciting a muffed moan from you. He could feel the fabric was entirely soaked through already, “All this ‘cause of me darlin’?”

You could only manage a soft moan, hips jutting up in search of more pressure. Your fingers moved to twine their way into his hair, pulling softly. You felt Arthur pull away suddenly, but quickly returned to yank your pants away from your body, throwing them to the side. Suddenly feeling far too alone in your nakedness, you reached for Arthur’s shirt buttons, popping them open one by one until you could pull the fabric away from his body. You were quick to toss it into the ever-growing pile on the floor.

Arthur closed the distance between you two with haste, pressing his bare chest to you as he reached around your back to unfasten your bra. He leaned back a bit to take in the view, one calloused palm coming up to caress your breast. “Christ alive you’re perfect.” Arthur’s spare hand found the bulge in his pants, palming himself in hopes of a little relief.

“So are you...” You whimpered under his touch, reaching to grab his hand and guide it to your clothed heat. “Please Arthur… need you inside me so bad.” You blushed at your own words, knowing you probably sounded pathetic but you didn’t care. It had been far too long since you’d had Arthur and you thought about him almost every night he was gone. Sometimes so much so that your hands would find their way under the sheets late at night and you’d imagine they were his.

Arthur chuckled softly at you, “needy aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea.”

His breath brushed against the shell of your ear, “oh I think I do… but your wish is my command. Sit tight a minute darlin’.” Arthur pushed himself up off the bed and disappeared into the next room. He returned a moment later, carrying a full length mirror, placing it carefully at the foot of the bed.

“What are you up to Arthur?” Your eyes followed him curiously and you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look. You glanced between your mostly naked reflection and your lover’s form.

“You’ll see, just trust me.” He undid his belt buckle and let it clatter to the floor along with his jeans, leaving him standing before you in only his briefs and your eyes drank in his form hungrily. He closed the distance between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours passionately. Arthur then reached down to slowly and tenderly remove your panties, discarding them to the side.

Arthur’s fingers found your most sensitive spots with practiced ease. You studied his handsome face while he pleasured you, but you found his own eyes studying something else. You followed his gaze towards the end of the bed and your eyes met in the mirror. You had almost forgotten the mirror was even there, but now you took in the scene that was laid before you. You, with your legs spread wide, one flung haphazardly across Arthur’s lap. You watched how Arthur’s weathered fingers worked you rhythmically, all with a smug look on his face. You closed your eyes quickly, your face heating up at the lewd depictions reflected in front of you.

Arthur pulled away suddenly and you groaned in protest, eyes fluttering open to find Arthur removing his briefs. He was quick to return to your side, lifting one of your legs a bit to grant him better access. “God damnit darlin’… I’m an impatient man. I’d like to take ya now… if that’s alright with you.” He slid his throbbing member back and forth against your entrance, waiting for your permission.

You agreed hungrily, “yes, oh Arthur please… I-I’ve dreamt of you inside me every night since you left.” Your hand went to caress his bearded jaw tenderly, your gaze meeting his.

Arthur chuckled softly, “and now ya got me.” He pushed inside you, slowly, until he was sheathed to the hilt. You both let out moans at the sudden pressure. Arthur waited in perfect stillness for you to adjust to his size, eyes locked on yours.

Only a couple heartbeats had passed before you were hungrily bucking your hips backwards onto his length, a silent plea for Arthur to move, even just a little. You stared right back at him, eyes filled with desperation.

His broad chest pressed against your back and a well-muscled arm snaked around your waist, the other sliding under your shoulders to cradle you against him. “And I thought I was impatient…” Arthur laughed under his breath, “I always give ya what ya need don’t I?” He moved his hips painfully slow, pulling all the way out and back in.

Finally growing tired of teasing you, Arthur quickened his pace, finding a steady rhythm. A symphony of moans left your mouth, mixing with Arthur’s. You let your eyes flutter closed and your head fall back in pleasure.

“Look.” Arthur commanded while his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

You opened your eyes again and looked to the end of the bed where the mirror stood. You let your eyes freely rove the imagine laid out in front of you. The slight pink tint to your face, Arthur’s large hand sneaking up to toy with the sensitive bud of your nipple, the way his hips snapped to yours, him disappearing inside of you. It was all almost too much. Just as you were about to look away, Arthur gently gripped you by the chin and kept you in place.

“Wanted ya to see how pretty ya look-“ Arthur’s voice was cut off by a groan. “Wanted ya to see how well ya take my cock for me.”

Arthur’s breath was hot against the shell of your ear and when you met his gaze in the mirror, his face was painted with ecstasy. The sight of his beautiful face, and the sight of you making him feel that good, was almost enough to send you over the edge then and there. “You look- pretty too.” You struggled to form words as the haze of lust had already seeped into your brain, but Arthur smiled all the same.

“Jesus you feel so good… my sweet girl.” Arthur cooed into your ear, the pad of his thumb brushing over your other nipple.

“Arthur… getting close.” You managed to choke out between moans, putty in his hands at this point.

“I know sweetheart.” And he did know. He knew your body just as well as his own. “Promise me you’ll keep those eyes open and I’ll give ya what you want, alright?” He moved to press sloppy kisses to the side of your neck.

You nodded furiously, “mmhmm.. I promise.” You could have sworn your entire body was on fire.

Arthur dropped his hand to the crook of your knee, lifting your leg to allow for a deeper angle. “That feel good darlin’?” He picked his pace up a bit.

You were past the point of words as waves of pleasure racked your body and you watched the scene in front of you through half-lidded eyes.

Arthur took the pretty noises spewing out of you as a yes.

You were so close, the pleasure almost blinding. This was exactly what you needed, exactly what you had been missing. You reached a hand between your legs, rubbing small circles and relishing the additional sensation.

Arthur nearly choked at the sight. “You’re gonna be the death of me woman.” His thrusts faltered slightly, growing sloppier as he neared his own climax.

Your fingers kept a steady rhythm, “Arthur I-“

Arthur’s growl in your ear was the only thing keeping you tethered to this universe, ”Go ahead sweetheart, let go for me.”

At his words, your orgasm rolled through you and curses and moans tumbled from your lips. Finally your eyes snapped shut from the pleasure.

The feeling of you clenching around him sent Arthur falling over the edge right after you, rutting into you helplessly as he chased his own climax. Arthur moaned your name like it was the only word he could remember how to say, in that moment it might have been. His orgasm crashed down around him, lighting him on fire.

His pace finally slowed to a stop, and for a long time the two of you just laid there with nothing but the sound of both of your pants filling the room. Arthur wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

You turned in his embrace, rolling over to stare up at his face. “Where’d you come up with this idea?” You nodded over your shoulder to the mirror that still stood at the foot of the bed.

Arthur shrugged. “Dunno… just thought about it while I was staying at a hotel. I thought it’d be something we’d both like.”

“You have any other fun ideas while you were gone?” You grinned up at him, fingers tracing shapes on his chest.

Arthur chuckled, “More than I can count. You’re just about all I can think about.” Arthur pressed a few tender kisses to your lips. “I love ya sweetheart, I’m so glad I’m home.” He rested his forehead against yours.

You accepted all of his affection with open arms, glowing in his embrace. “I love you too Arthur… and maybe we could try out a couple more of your ideas?” Arthur’s chuckle was his only response.

[hidingwhere]

Arthur Morgan who is sometimes a little unaware of his appearance.

He’ll come back to camp with blood soaked through his shirt on his shoulder from animals he had recently hunted and slung over his shoulder.

He approaches you with a grin, arms touching your waist. The little romantic moment lasts for mere seconds until he notices your grimace when you finally notice the state of his clothes.

“Could’ve washed off the blood first,” you say with a shake of your head, pushing a wet rag against his chest so he can wipe the blood of properly. He watches you walk away, still a little stunned but obediently follows your orders and wipes himself off.

Sometimes, he’d return with his hair all disheveled and mud all over his clothes after getting into a fight and still go over to you, leaning to kiss you sweetly before you can realise he’s caked in mud.

You hit his arm, sending him off with a dollar to make him buy a bath in the local saloon.

He doesn’t realise most of the time and can’t deny the fact that he enjoys when you fuss over him.

[moonpascaltoo]

ARTHUR MORGAN

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all arthur morgan stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) <3

MASTERLIST • 08/17/24

@messrmoonyy ✰ the forbidden fruit arthur “steals” dutch’s girl and shows a real man’s loving ✰ high vs low honor hc

@margowritesthings ✰ what’s mine is mine

@sapphic-pikachu ✰ shooting your shot Arthur makes good on his promise to teach you how to shoot. You struggle with this time alone with him due to your seemingly unrequited feelings for him.

@hihomeghere ✰ fakin’ it After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? ✰ dreams Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you ✰ fishing in the dark You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River.

@anna-proxx ✰ friends with benefits you and arthur are occasional lovers with no strings attached, except you caught feelings.

@immajustvibehere ✰ touch starved Arthur wonders why you, the most touchy person who doesn't mind hugging and being close to everyone in the gang, avoids him. Then you catch him alone one night and he finds solace in your closeness

@thatwriterchick222 ✰ snakebite you get bitten by a snake and arthur has to suck the venom out... what could go wrong?

@javier-pena ✰ embers You're engaged to be married to a man you've never met. Arthur Morgan is supposed to escort you across the country to meet him. You should keep your distance, but the dangers of the road bring you closer and closer together with each passing mile.

@morning-star-joy ✰ room for three When Joel and Arthur get caught in a storm and need a place to stay, they weren't expecting to find you—a temptress who offers them shelter in your cabin, and wants nothing more than for the two rugged cowboys to keep you warm.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

An a/b/o fic with maybe Bruce Wayne or Arthur curry, where they have been searching for their omega for most of their life, and when they are fighting a villain fem reader comes in and helps them, I was thinking that reader she has telekinesis or something and, she helps them and they are blown away by her, never thinking that their omega could be a hero as well

.⋆｡Crashing Waves｡⋆.

alpha!Arthur Curry x plus size reader

He has been looking for her for his whole life and she arrived just in time

Warnings: a/b/o, true mates, hero!reader, omega!reader, violence against robots, reader is shorter than Bruce and Arthur (but who isn’t), implied smut WC: 1.4k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Even after serving as Atlantis’s king for five years now, Arthur doubted he would get used to the searing smell of salt that constantly clung to everything around him. It burned his nostrils even when he was lounging around the JL tower and part of him wondered if he would ever be able to properly scent out his mate while the sea constantly invaded his senses. Though even before he claimed the throne, he wasn’t exactly successful on that front.

He felt like he had searched everywhere for his omega, the biological urge deep down in his chest driving him to scour every inch of the earth for them. But they had eluded him and even if his parents (themselves being true mates) assured him that the right omega would appear when the time was right, he remained alone with the smell of the sea. 

Arthur was almost glad, at times, for a good fight. Smoke, sparks from his trident, even blood gave him a break from the usual salt that surrounded him, temporarily cleansing his pallet so to speak. But maybe not today he thought with a wince.

Hundreds of broken robots surrounded him, the never-ending wave of enemies only getting thicker as his exhaustion began to mount. Batman was somewhere deep in the crowd, attempting to override their programming as Arthur tried to keep him safe enough. New enemies were always a pain in the ass but this one was definitely levels above the other newbies they fought. And Arthur was already fantasising about what he’d do to the skinny little white guy as soon as he got his hands on him, that is if Batman didn’t get to either of them first.

“Is there any way to hurry this up!” He shouted above the screaming of gears and failing electronics. 

“This would go faster if you stopped hitting them at me.” The Bat growled as he hit yet another firewall in their programming. Arthur took another swing of his trident, knocking away a flying robot that had gotten way too close to his partner’s head for comfort. It let out a high pitched whine as it was launched into the horizon.

“This would be faster if you didn’t type in the wrong code to begin with!” A batarang screamed past his ear, landing right in the huge glowing eye of the robot hovering just over Arthur’s right shoulder. Oil sprayed from its side, coating Arthur’s hair. 

A deafening roar sounded through the empty field as another shipping container rose from the ground, releasing even more robots. Batman turned back to the computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard all while the swarm closed in around them. “This is gonna hurt.” Arthur cocked back his shoulder and raised his trident, maybe he could knock out a few rows of them before they got too close and he’d have to switch to his fists. 

Just as he readjusted his grip to throw the trident into the thickest grouping of robots, everything went silent.

The now frozen robots hung in the air like someone had just paused time, though they still whirred and whined, their huge red eyes glowing even brighter. Then, with little more than a sharp click from somewhere to his right, they were pulled backwards, the mechanical bodies slamming into each other as they were forced together into one huge sphere hundreds of feet off the ground. 

“What the fuck?” Suddenly, the sphere crumpled like tin foil, the metal warping and collapsing until all that was left was a flat sheet of wires and dying LEDs. It slammed into the earth, disappearing behind the long grass as Batman’s screen turned green.

“Great timing there bats.” But Arthur’s tone held no bite, not when the salty smell of the ocean and ozone slammed into him. 

Immediately, every nerve in his body came to life, buzzing like he was drunk but his mind was clear, clearer than it ever had been before. A figure was walking through the grass, elegantly avoiding the mangled carcasses of their battle. As she approached, her scent became stronger and Arthur could now smell the subtle hint of something flowery like a warm spring breeze. 

The light of the sunset made her practically glow as she moved, her thick curves and perfect dips highlighted by a tight catsuit that looked like it was pulled straight from his teenage fantasies. 

“I hope I didn’t show up too late.” Her voice floated around him and Arthur’s knees buckled. 

“You’re right on time.” Her e/c eyes met his golden ones and he watched as her nose turned up and she took a deep breath of his scent. Her heavy chest hitched and her own scent turned sweeter. His stomach flipped as something deep inside him stretched awake for the first time in what seemed like years.

“Y/N. What took so long?” Batman crossed his arms as he looked down at her, his jaw ticking in anger. Yet her expression never faltered, in fact she glanced at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. Her smile was bright, shining with something ethereal. 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you gave me a coded message with the coordinates instead of being a normal person and sharing your location with me? I may have psychic powers but I suck at math dude.” 

“That was you?” Arthur hadn’t noticed that his body was moving on its own until he finally spoke again and she had to crane her head almost all the way back to make eye contact with him. Warmth unlike anything he had experienced before bloomed through his chest as she leaned towards him, fluttering her lashes up at him.

“I have a lot of tricks better than that.” Her scent was almost overpowering now but all he wanted to do was drown in it. Y/N’s shoulder brushed against his pec and something snapped.

The world tilted on its axis and he suddenly knew what his parents were talking about when they said that the moment they met, nothing else mattered. “Omega.” 

Her body sagged into him as she breathed out an almost inaudible “alpha”. His trident dropped unnoticed to the ground. 

“I’ve finally found you.” She fell easily into his arms, like they had been made to hold her. She pressed her face as close as she could get, her words muffled against the thick armour but he could hear her clearly all the same. 

“You stole my line,” he whispered into her hair, breathing her scent as much as he could, “I’ve been waiting for you for so long. Who knew I’d find you after you saved my life?” Her giggle made his heart swell with affection and pride.

“You’ve obviously been looking in the wrong place.” Y/N looked up at him as he cupped her full cheek with a massive hand, guiding her face upwards. His eyes dropped to her lips.

“I could say the same about you.” He leaned down and just as his lips were about to touch hers-

“Alright that’s enough,” Bruce snarled, “need I remind you both that there’s still a villain we need to deal with.” 

Y/N never looked away from Arthur, in fact she wound an arm around his neck and tugged him even closer. His alpha roared to life, hyper-focusing on the softness of her curves beneath his hands. “You go ahead, I think my alpha and I have done more than enough heavy lifting for the day, we have better things to do.”

“I’m going to regret asking but what exactly is more important than dealing with a potentially global threat?” Arthur smirked, catching on to the game she was playing.

His right hand dropped from where it was resting on her wide hip down to the plump cheeks of her ass. “I’m going to rip her clothes off and fuck her brains out right in this field. So unless you’re into that stuff-“ she slapped his chest at that, “-then I suggest you move on, Bats, cause right now, nothing is going to stop me from claiming my omega.”

“You two are disgusting.” He grumbled and walked off, finally leaving the newly discovered mates alone.

“Now where were we?” Arthur purred before Y/N yanked him down and finally kissed him, making the smell of the ocean explode around them.

Her scent had been haunting him for years, etching itself into his mind and suddenly, Arthur loved the smell of salt again because it meant that he finally had his omega.

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

｡☆✼★━sᥙᥒsᥱts ᥲᥒd kιssᥱs || Arthur Morgan ||

A/n: Thank you for bringing back my Arthur Morgan obsession.

Arthur Morgan never thought he would find love again, not after what happened with her. He didn't see a point to even try, he wouldn't have been good enough for anyone well he thought that until you stumbled into his life.

You were everything to him, thanks to you he found happiness again. Thank's to you, he was able to leave the gang. While Dutch may not have been happy it did not matter because now he could finally have a family.

Helping you on the horse, Arthur hummed as he slipped behind you. His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you in as he kissed your temple. "Now hang on tight darlin."

Grinning, you pressed your body into his as Arthur nudged the horse. You two didn't go far, just a nice spot that two would watch the sunset together.

"Isn't this a pretty little spot."

Letting out a soft laugh, you grasped his hand bringing it to your lips. "Our perfect little spot."

Grinning, Arthur placed a kiss to your temple then pulled you in for a deep kiss as the sun slowly started to set.

Letting your tongue glide across his lips you pulled away then smiled as you relaxed into his chest.

"This is perfect."

Letting his thumb glide across your cheek, Arthur sighed as he held you close as your gaze and his turned towards the sunset. "So very perfect."

[zvdvdlvr]

Cherry Flavored

🍒 - Synopsis. Cherry farm + hopelessly in love + kissing.

🍒 - Warnings. Fast paced. Fighting. Concussion. Kissing.

It was late April, sun making the days hotter and longer. The gang had settled near Valentine, a small and tightly-knit town. In true womanly outlaw fashion, you politely introduced yourself and made yourself look as innocent and harmless as possible (the thing with appearing innocent and normal? you had three distinctive claw marks running down your face from when John got the both of you stranded on a mountain.)

Almost a week after settling down, Arthur Morgan had gotten into a bad bar fight. Luckily you, Lenny, Javier, Charles, and Bill were there to help fend off the irregularly large man from beating the life out of Arthur.

Though you definitely blew your cover of an innocent woman, Arthur won the fight.

In the aftermath of that fight, Arthur had let you pull him onto your horse and ride off into the night: putting as much distance from the incident as possible.

“Yeh alright?” Arthur asked, gravely voice low and close to your ear.

“‘M alright. I should be asking you that question, Arthur,” you replied.

“You know I can survive more’n that,” he grumbled. Arthur rested his bloodied forhead on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to make a mess of things… I know you was gettin’ along fine with some of those people.”

You shrugged the shoulder Arthur wasn’t leaning on. Protected by your ribcage, your heart rate beat faster. “You’re more important- the gang is more important.”

Arthur’s eyes closed at your words. He wished more than anything he could feel normal afyer you said that. You’re more important. If only you knew how important you were to Arthur. He stayed quiet, the arms wrapped around your waist to stay steady tightened.

“Don’t fall asleep, Arthur,” you murmured. “You probably have one of those concussions- a bad one, if I had to guess.”

“Yes ma’am,” Arthur groaned, bringing his head up and focusing on the moon. Yeah, the world may be spinning, but at least you were there to take care of him.

Slowly, you eased your horse to a stop. You let Arthur dismount before following suit. As you patred the neck of your horse, you watched Arthur wobble on his legs beside you.

The man surveyed the area, a small farmhouse and crop growing about twent feet away from where you stood.

“Do you like cherries?” You asked. You linked your arm in Arthur’s and lead him closer to the crop. “The family here grows some damn good ones. They’re good for detox, but might make ya tired,” you said.

Arthur watched you reach out for a cherry and pluck it off the plant. You offered him one, and reached for your own. Arthur hadn’t had cherries in so long, he himself didn’t even know if he liked them. He watched you place the cherry into your mouth, moonlight lighting your face and making your eyes and lips shine. You sighed in delight, leaning slightly into Arthur, momentarily forgetting the fight.

Arthur placed his own cherry on his tongue and watched you pull out the pit by the stem and toss it away. A bright snile painted your lips when you turned and saw Arthur looking down at you, dark eyes watching your every movement.

“Good, right?” You urged, nodding to the stem between Arthur’s lips.

Arthur nodded. “Real good,” he answered. He reached behind you and picked another cherry. “Open.”

You opened your mouth and watched, dazed, as Arthur took great care in tucking the red flesh between your teeth.

You took a bite, feeling juice run down your chin. The red liquid gleamed under the light of the moon, taunting Arthur to remove it.

So he did.

Arthur reached out slowly, giving you the chance to step back. He swiped his thumb under your bottom lip, collecting the cherry juice and then bringing it up to his own lips and sucking it off his thumb.

“Well,” you breathed, eyes darting between Arthur’s lips and his mouth. “Can’t do that to a woman and not…” you started, trailing off.

“And not what?” Arthur prompted, stepping closer. He tilted his head, hand hovering over your cheek.

“Kiss me,” you finished breathlessly, leaning further into Arthur’s touch.

Arthur leaned down and captured your lips in his. He tasted the whiskey and cheery on your lips- a taste he could get addicted to. He groaned into your lips, opening his mouth and inviting you in.

Arthur didn’t know how long he stood there, tasting you, but he assumed he had been there for a while when he saw a light flicker on in the distance.

You pulled away, a smile om your flushed lips. “We should probably go,” you murmured, picking a few more cherries and storing them in your pocket.

Arthur mounted your horse. “I think I do like cherries,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and letting your presence soothe his aches.

[obsessivelullabies]

hii!! I love youre writing sm and I was wondering if I could request a yandere/obsessive Arthur Morgan or John Marston (you decide!) with a fem reader who is like the doctor of the gang? she's always responsible for taking care of injuries, and stocking up on herbs and tonics for the camp. Maybe she's a little quiet and keeps to herself anytime they have a party or just in general but is super sweet and calm once you get to know her? Thank you so much and have a great rest of your day <33.

due to the time period, arthur always thought you were interesting. a woman doctor was rare. it made sense why you joined with the gang.

when arthur had gotten a rather minor injury on his arm, he decided to ask you about it. he almost interrogated you about yourself as you patched him up.

when he asked why you chose your career, your answer stuck out. “i just like to help people.” at first, he didn’t believe you. when he talked to you more, he knew it was true.

arthur felt an overwhelming urge to protect you and your sweet nature. it was a rough world, he knew that. he knew, or assumed, you couldn’t survive on your own.

the more he learned about you, the more fixated he became. he’d take the tiniest injury as an excuse to come visit you. he felt so warm and fuzzy, like he was a boy whenever your soft hands patched him up.

you two become close friends with how much time he spends in your ‘office’. he’s always asking if you have any troubles, whatever it is, he can handle it.

no other man in the gang should dare to be rude or make snide comments to you. arthur would immediately defend you, whether is be verbally or physically. he wouldn’t let anyone even roll their eyes at you.

it gets to a point where he’d constantly follow you. or strange coincidences where you two end up in the same place.

arthur just wants to help you, the way you help him. he’ll escort you anywhere, help you grind herbs, help you get tonics, anything for you.

expect constant gifts from him. if he sees or finds anything he thinks you’d like, he’ll come back with it.

he actively discourages the other men from going to you. he’ll look at their wound and scoff, “it ain’t that bad. don’t waste ‘er time.”. he wants to be the only one you take care of.

arthur just wants to protect you. one day, he wants to take care of you without anyone else bugging you two. he adores you. you’re the perfect woman for him.

i don’t know much about john yet!! i only just started rdr2, so hopefully i know more of him soon

masterlist! | comments and reblogs appreciated. | unedited.

[whereforarthur]

"Women weaken legs" 

Pairing: BoxerArthurTv x Gf!reader

Summary: After your boyfriend Arthur was in boxing training camp and was forced to go 6-8 weeks without distractions and sex, he goes feral for his girlfriend when he gets out

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.4k

*****

"You've got this, Art," Coach Mike's voice echoed through the gym, a steady rhythm to the sound of gloves smacking into the punching bag. Arthur's knuckles were raw, his eyes narrowed in focus. He threw one last jab before stepping back to catch his breath. The air had sweat and the faint scent of antiseptic, a smell that had become oddly comforting over the past six weeks.

"Thanks, Mike," Arthur gasped, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Almost there."

"Almost?" Mike chuckled, clapping a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You're more than ready, kid. Six weeks of hell and you're still standing. Give 'em hell out there tomorrow night."

The bell rang, signaling the end of training. Arthur's muscles ached, but he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He'd missed her. The countless hours of conditioning and sparring had filled his mind with images of her, her laugh, her touch. The anticipation of seeing her was a driving force behind every punch thrown, every drop of sweat shed.

The next evening, the arena lights bathed him in a warm glow as he stepped into the ring. His opponent was a towering figure, but Arthur's thoughts were elsewhere. He could feel her presence in the stands, her eyes on him. The cheers grew louder, but the only voice he heard was hers, whispering his name like a sweet promise.

The fight was brutal, but Arthur's determination was unshakeable. With every punch thrown and taken, he grew more feral, more desperate for the moment when he could finally claim his reward. The bell rang, signaling the end of the final round. He had won. The crowd erupted in applause, but all Arthur could see was the figure making her way towards the locker room, her hips swaying with purpose.

The moment he saw her, the dam broke. Months of pent-up desire flooded his veins. He didn't bother with a customary hello, instead, he lunged towards her, wrapping her in a crushing embrace. "I've missed you so much," he murmured into her hair, feeling her body melt into his.

The locker room door slammed shut behind them, muffling the noise of the arena. Their kisses grew more frantic as they tugged at each other's clothes, eager to feel skin on skin. The world outside ceased to exist as they explored every inch of each other's bodies, relearning the contours that had been etched into their memories.

Her breath hitched as Arthur's hands slid down to cup her ass, lifting her up against his groin. She could feel the evidence of his need pressing into her, and it made her core clench with want. He began to dry hump her, his movements rough and unbridled, the fabric of their clothes the only barrier to the friction they both craved.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby," he growled into her ear, his words sending shivers down her spine. "I've thought about this every night, dreamt of your sweet pussy wrapped around me." She moaned, her legs wrapping around his waist as she ground herself against him.

"Take me, Arthur," she begged, her voice a needy whine that made his cock throb even more. "I need you inside me."

He didn't need another invitation. He set her down on the cold bench, her legs still wrapped around him. He kissed her deeply, his tongue claiming her mouth as his hands worked on her jeans, desperate to free the prize he'd been fantasizing about for weeks. The zipper rasped as he pulled it down, and the second her panties were in his grasp, he slid them aside, revealing her glistening wetness.

Arthur's cock was a steel rod against her stomach, straining against his shorts. He couldn't wait another second. He pulled away from her, panting, and stepped back, pulling his shorts down to free himself. The sight of his erection made her mouth water; it had been so long since she'd had him, she'd almost forgotten how big he was.

With trembling hands, she reached out to touch him, her fingers tracing the length of his shaft. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as she wrapped her hand around him, her thumb brushing the bead of precum that had formed at the tip. He was so hard it was almost painful, his body screaming for release after weeks of deprivation.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?" Arthur whispered, his voice thick with lust. "I can feel how much you've missed this cock." He slid two fingers into her, her slickness coating them easily. She was so ready for him, her walls clenching around his digits as she arched her back, gasping for air. "You're going to be so tight, baby," he murmured, pumping them in and out, curling them to hit her g-spot.

Her nails dug into his back as he continued to tease her, her moans growing louder with each stroke. "Please," she begged, "I need you inside me."

"You want this cock, don't you?" Arthur's voice was a gruff whisper, his eyes dark with desire. "You want me to fill you up and make you scream?" He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You're going to come so hard on my dick, baby. You're going to milk every drop out of me."

Her response was a whimper, her hips rocking against his hand. "Yes," she panted, "please, Arthur."

He didn't waste another second. With a grin that was pure carnality, he lined himself up and thrust into her in one swift motion. She was tight, just as he'd imagined, her body clamping down on him like a vice. He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he savored the feeling of being inside her again.

Her voice barely a whisper. "I missed this so much."

"Missed what, baby?" Arthur nuzzled her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Missed me fucking you senseless?"

Her eyes rolled back in her head, a low moan escaping her lips as he continued to pump into her. "Yes," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. "Missed this."

Her nails dug into his back, urging him deeper, her hips rising to meet each of his punishing thrusts. "You're so big," she gasped, her eyes glazed over with desire. "It's been so long."

"Yeah, I know," he murmured, his voice a low growl as he picked up the pace. "But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that was both fierce and familiar. He whispered filthy words into her ear, telling her exactly what he was going to do to her, and she met each one with a moan of agreement. The bench creaked under their weight, their movements growing more frantic with each passing second.

Her legs tightened around him, her pussy clenching down on him as she approached climax. "I'm going to come," she panted, her voice a desperate plea. "I'm going to come all over your cock."

"That's it, baby," Arthur encouraged, his own orgasm building. "Come for me. I want to feel you come all over me."

Their movements grew erratic, the air thick with the scent of their arousal. He pounded into her, his every stroke hitting that perfect spot that made her eyes roll back in her head. The tension grew, coiling tighter and tighter until she shattered, her body convulsing around him as she screamed out his name.

The sound of her pleasure was like a trigger for him. With a roar that was part victory, part release, Arthur emptied himself into her, his hips jerking as he came harder than he ever had before. They clung to each other, their breaths ragged and their hearts racing, as the aftershocks of their shared climax washed over them.

*****

For a moment, they just stayed there, their bodies joined, their hearts beating in sync. The noise of the arena outside was a distant memory, forgotten in the face of the passion that consumed them. And as they finally pulled apart, both gasping for air, Arthur knew that the weeks of sacrifice had been worth it. Because now, he had her, and nothing else mattered.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, their eyes locked in a silent promise of more to come. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice still thick with lust. "You're always going to be mine."

Her response was a sultry smile, her eyes dropping to his mouth before she whispered, "And you're always going to be the one who makes me feel this way."

Their kiss was slow and deep, a promise of what was to come. Arthur broke away, his eyes dark and hungry. "Take off your shirt," he ordered, his voice a command that sent a thrill down her spine.

With trembling hands, she obeyed, letting the fabric fall away to reveal her bare breasts. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue until it was a tight peak. She moaned, arching her back, her hands tangling in his hair as he moved to the other one, giving it the same attention.

"You like that, baby?" he murmured against her skin. "You like when I make your tits feel good?"

"Yes," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "More, Arthur."

He chuckled, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh before he straightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "You want more?"

"God, yes," she whimpered, her body aching for his touch.

"Good," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Because I've got plenty more where that came from." He stepped back, his eyes traveling down her body before he reached out to grab her by the hips, pulling her to the edge of the bench. "Spread your legs for me."

The command was simple, but the way he said it made her knees wobble. She obeyed, her legs spreading wide to give him full access to her. He stepped between them, his cock standing tall and proud, still slick with their combined juices.

"Look at how wet you are," he said, his voice a gruff whisper. "Look at how much you want me."

Her cheeks flushed as she did as he said, her eyes meeting his as he stroked himself, her juices glistening on his fingers. "Please," she begged, "I need you again."

With a wicked smirk, Arthur leaned in, his cock brushing against her clit. "You're going to get me," he said, "over and over again. Until you can't walk straight."

And with that, he slammed back into her, their moans of pleasure echoing through the locker room. The only sound was their ragged breaths and the slap of skin on skin as they moved together, lost in the heat of their reunion.

The world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feel of Arthur inside her, his dirty words in her ear, and the promise of countless more nights like this to come.

"Fuck, you’re amazing," Arthur groaned, his voice gruff with pleasure. "You feel so good, baby."

Her cheeks flushed, her breathing still ragged from the intensity of their lovemaking.

Their lovemaking grew more intense, each stroke driving her closer to the edge. "You're going to come for me again," Arthur said, his voice a dark promise. "And this time, I'm going to watch you fall apart."

Her eyes locked on his, she could feel the tension coiling inside her, ready to snap. "I'm going to come," she moaned, her voice high and needy. "I'm going to come so hard."

"That's it," he murmured, his hips moving faster. "Come for me, baby."

And she did, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into his shoulders as she screamed his name.

Arthur's pace grew more erratic, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck, I'm going to fill you up," he groaned, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're going to feel me for days."

Her eyes widened at his words, her pussy clenching around him. "Do it," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "I want it all."

With a final roar, Arthur emptied himself into her, his cum spilling into her in hot, thick spurts. They held onto each other tightly, their bodies shaking from the force of their shared release.

They collapsed together, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts racing. The world had stopped spinning, and all that was left was the two of them, in this moment of pure, unbridled passion.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you come," Arthur murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. "So tight, so wet."

As they came down from the high, Arthur leaned in to kiss her, slow and deep, tasting the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her lips. "I've missed you so much," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

"And I've missed this," she replied, her voice still shaky from the intensity of their coupling. "It's been too long."

They broke apart, both panting, and took a moment to catch their breath. The locker room was still, the only sound their ragged inhales and exhales.

"We should get out of here," Arthur said, his voice a low murmur. "Before someone finds us."

They quickly redressed, sharing shy smiles and stolen touches as they pulled their clothes back on. The world outside waited for them, but for now, all that mattered was the quiet intimacy of this stolen moment.

The cool London air hit them like a slap in the face as they stepped out of the arena, their bodies still flushed from their passionate reunion. They walked hand in hand through the bustling streets, the neon lights reflecting off their sweat-soaked skin.

"I can't wait to get you home," Arthur whispered, his eyes dark with desire. "I've got so much more to show you."

Her heart raced at the promise in his voice, the excitement of what was to come. "Is that right?" she teased, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, you have no idea," he said, his grip on her hand tightening. "The things I've been dreaming of doing to you."

The night was young, and Arthur had eight weeks of pent-up passion to unleash. As they disappeared into the night, the city of London had no idea of the carnage of love that was about to unfold in their private sanctuary.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23

@g-xix

[mikedfaist]

Boobs or butt w Mike Faist characters, which do they prefer?

Let’s start with the big 3…

Riff: Riff vowed he never had a preference, until he met you. Something about your boobs just sends him into overdrive, and he’s clawing his way up the bed to get to you. If the two of you are just cuddling, you best believe he has one hand up your shirt, holding firmly to a single breast like a child with a stuffed animal. It’s not even sexual to him at that point. If you two are in mid-argument, and you take your shirt off, he instantly retreats in surrender. “Okay, that’s not fair.” Argument completely forgotten.

Art: Alexis, will you play Dance (A$$) by Big Sean? THIS BOY… this boy loves a good ass. His favorite position is reverse cowgirl for a reason. He has the best view in the house. A close second is doggy. He’s the kind of boyfriend who will slap your ass in public without much shame, or shove his hand into the back pocket of your jeans when you’re walking around campus. One rule in is dorm is you can’t wear pants… he doesn’t make the rules.

Dodge: Controversial opinion, but Dodge loves both, and how dare someone ever favorite one over the other! When you’re making out, and his mouth is enclosed over your breast, you best believe he has a hand grabbing at your ass. He loves to fuck you in front of a mirror because he simultaneously gets to watch himself fuck your ass, but also watch your boobs in the reflection. That to him is his personal heaven.

Okay, now for some of his “deep cuts” as he puts it…

Gordie: Honestly, Gordie has no preference. He’s just happy to be there, which does have its faults. He sometimes doesn’t know where to put his attention, or his hands. He wants to caress your boobs, but he also wants to grope your ass. He tries to do both with just one hand, but it doesn’t get the full effect he desires. He can’t have his attention solely on one, because he feels he’s missing out on the other. If he can’t give you his full, devoted attention, then what’s the point?

Arthur: He’s an ass guy, in the sense he loves his ass touched. When you’re making out, he loses it when you reach down to grab his ass. When you’re making out on the beach, rolling around in the sand, and you reach down to grab his ass to push him farther into you, he’s done for. When you’re walking around and you jokingly slap his butt, you’re the only one laughing. He’s definitely divided if he wants to be pegged…but that’s a conversation for a different time!

[sallowsarchives]

War of Hearts

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.

Read on AO3

"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."  

Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."

Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"

You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."

"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.

Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."

Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.

You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror. 

The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.

The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.

You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.

Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.

Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”

Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.

After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.

Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.

You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can. 

As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.

Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”

You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.

"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."

Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin. 

Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.” 

His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.” 

Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.

He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance. 

Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”

The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.

You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.

As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.

The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.

Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.

Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.

Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate. 

Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”

Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”

You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident. 

Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last. 

As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.

He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.” 

You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”

He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”

You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”

Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”

The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.

Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.

Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.

Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.

The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.

“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.

The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony. 

The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.

An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived… And you’ve washed!” 

From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte. 

Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.

You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.

The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”

His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.

Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”

Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.

Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.

Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.

Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side. 

The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.

“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”

Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.

When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.

Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.

You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor. 

You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.

After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with. 

“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow.  “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”

He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back. 

The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.

You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.

The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.

You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness. 

The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.

You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.

Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.

“Gentlemen… and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing… unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.

With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny. 

He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.

Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable. 

Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.

He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.

The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.

As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence. 

You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”

"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."

Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.

You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets. 

Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.

Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.

You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.

One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you. 

You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.

At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.

You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.

As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity. 

"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”

You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement. 

Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”

The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”

“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”

She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”

You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”

You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”

“So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh, um… I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?” 

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”

You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur. 

“Actually, that would be him right there.”

Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise. 

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”

The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.” 

You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.

Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.

“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”

Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”

For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”

Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”

The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.

“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.

You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below. 

As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. 

The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.

Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations. 

The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.

You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him. 

You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”

“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy… ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk. 

“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”

You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”

Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point.  “Don’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”

Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you. 

The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.

The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.

Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.

Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.

He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.

“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.

Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.

You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks. 

"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.” 

You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.

“You got it?” 

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind

Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.

The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.

The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”

The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.

As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.

His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.

One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.

The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.

Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.

“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.

You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.

In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness. 

With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.

Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.

Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.

In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.

The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.

Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss. 

Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality. 

A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.

You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.

The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.

Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”

You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.

Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.

Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”

You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony. 

“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”

Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”

“Great. I think we’re done here.”

The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.

Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.

In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh…,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. 

Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed. 

Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier… I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”

His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.

You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over. 

Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”

You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings? 

“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”

Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say. 

He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just… I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”

The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.

His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration. 

What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.

You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.

The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.

God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded. 

With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”

You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.

Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt. 

The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.

The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.

A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!

Read Part Two Here

[borzoia]

Save a horse-- Ride a Cowboy!

Arthur Morgan x f!reader Includes; PIV, cowgirl position, drinking, consensually fucking under the influence. MDNI

A/N; My take on the save a horse ride a cowboy trend.

It was a summer night, the saloon was packed with loud mouthed men drinking enough liquor to kill a boar. Ladies were scattered across the bar waiting for a sober(ish) man to swoop them off. Standing beside your two friends you swayed side to side, your shoes were definitely not made to stand for this long. Ignoring the nonsensical chatter of the girls beside you, you notice a familiar face– Arthur.

Arthur and you had a short history, when your horse escaped from your family’s barn he was quick to chase her down and bring her back seemingly calmer than when she ran. He’d help with you little favors from time to time, you’d repay him with homemade sweets and some liquor. He’d never stayed long than a few hours at a time, keeping the conversation simple as he let you talk most of the time. He was a sweetheart whether he’d like to admit it or not, but you could never quite get him to crack his shell.

You push past a few drunks who have no spatial awareness and stand behind Arthur, he’s rambling about some big bust he had with him and his gang, wordlessly you pluck the cowboy hat on his head, placing it on your own. He turns around with a glare that could kill but his face softens when he recognizes it’s you, he lets out a low laugh, quickly snatching the hat back.

You hop on the bar stool next to him, “Someone’s ready for a fight.” You remark. “Always.” He says slyly, throwing back what’s left in his glass. The rowdy group next to him laughs wickedly, playfully roughing him up, “You gon’ take that cowboy?” They tease, Arthur ignores them for the most part. “C’mon Arthur! Save a horse ride-”

Arthur slams the empty glass on the bar, “Hush now!” He growls, the men erupt in laughter unphased by the man’s outburst. “Bunch o’ children..”

Eventually they sulk away, going off to harass another bystander. You and Arthur get to chatting, you bring up his horse and he happily updates you on his well-being, he’s opening up more than usual, going on about the mini adventures he has in his day to day life, the little feud’s he gets into with the gang. He swears he’s no poet and even stops himself mid sentence to reiterate that, in your opinion he has a beautiful way with his words not in the fancy way, but he keeps your attention like no one else. “Them boys earlier..”  You start,

“Awh, they ain’t worth a breath.” He says. “So you know 'em?” You reply.

“Drinkin’ buddies, that’s all.” “They got you riled up with that ‘Save a horse’ crap.” You comment, he lets out a gruff laugh. “You know what that means?” He glances at you without lifting his head. You shake your head, sipping your whiskey, He laughs again the time avoiding your gaze. “What?” He ignores you, “C’mon, I ain’t a little girl!” You say, which only eggs him on, he finishes the bottle in his hand, shaking his head as the bottle slams down. “I ain’t your teacher.” He rasps, bringing his elbows to rest up on the counter. “Please!” You beg, shaking him lightly, “Thought you wasn’t a little girl?” He snapped. You roll your eyes, a dull silence falls between you, you turn away, observing the crowd of men and women dancing, laughing and drinking, you turn back to Arthur with a smirk, plucking the hat off his head once more and wearing it, he turns to snatch back but you leap from your seat, walking backwards with a wide grin. He’s pissed, you push past the crowds of drunks, til you hit the saloon doors, drunkenly you forget about the steps and nearly tumble down them, Arthur snatches your wrist, “Watch it, girl.” He scowls, he pulls you back up to the porch dragging you away from the few onlookers outside. “Sorry,” You mumble stumbling into the wooden railing. “You’re alright.” He says. “Why won’t you just tell me already?” Arthur sighs, readjusting his posture and hanging one hand on his belt. “It’s dirty.” He says quietly. “‘Save a horse– Ride a cowboy.” He says, your eyes widen a bit, the hat now loosely on your head. “I ain’t that kinda man,” He looks to the side, maybe it was the liquor or lack of people– but you laughed, in his face. “‘What you got hidin’ under that skirt for me?’” You mock his voice, leaning into him as you laugh, “Arthur you are a filthy man don’t lie.” “Watch your mouth.” He barks.

“Or what?” You retort.

He sighs loudly, chewing the inside of his cheek, you could see the moment on his face where he thought ‘Fuck it.’ He grabs your forearm, dragging you down the saloon steps, he knew the route to your apartment, hell he had an extra key, he crashed into your living room, slamming the door behind you two.

Before you knew it his mouth was on you, rough beard scratching your face, he pulls away, “where we goin’?” He rasps, “I don’t care,” you huff, “I need you.” He laughs against your lips, “And I’m filthy,’ he says before closing the gap, he guides you to the couch, laying you down gently, he next moves were the opposite, a rough hand find your waist, the other pushing up your skirt, massaging your thighs, but not daring to go any further. Your uncoordinated hands work to unbutton your blouse, there’s unexplainable heat beneath your skin and Arthur’s hands are ice cold, “Tell me to stop and I will.” He says in between kisses, “Don’t.” You exhale. Your words are a green light for him, he moves down to your neck placing open mouthed kisses down your soft skin, your hands get entangled in his brunette hair, soft gasps leaving your mouth, he palms one breast through your bra, tugging the strap down on the other side, he places soft kisses on your bare chest while the other hand roughly gropes you, the contrast was enough to make you whimper. 

His rough touch leaves you for a moment, moving to undo your bra with one hand, he tugs the fabric off of you, sitting back to admire your bare chest, “Look at you,” He remarks, you whine, dragging his hands back to your aching body. “Easy girl, you’ll have your turn.” He chuckles, undoing his belt and discarding it somewhere in the room, he unsheathed his cock, you immediately reach for it like your greedy, “Ah-ah, hands to yerself.”  he strokes himself for a measure, fondling your chest with his free hand. He lowers himself, pushing your boobs together and slotting himself between him, he grabs your wrists, pinning them on the arm of the sofa with one hand, with every thrust he lets out a low groan, using you as he pleases. “Fuck..” He moans as you arch your back closer to him, your chaste whimpers and whines are like music to his ears bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly he pulls away leaving your chest covered in precum.

Wordlessly he hooks his fingers around the hem of your skirt, pulling the garment down in one fell swoop, again he tosses it with no regard. He wraps his hands around your waist, flipping you over so you're on top, he lets you get comfy atop his hard cock, slowly rocking your hips back and forth. “Thatta’ girl..” He praises, slowly pushing your panties to the side, “C’mere girl,” He pulls you close, your chest to his, he places kisses on your collarbone as he slides inside your dripping core, you whine at the stretch, “Sh.. shh.. That’s it..” He lets you sit up at your own pace, guiding you into a slow rhythm, “Just like that, sweetheart.” His hands leave you to rest behind his head, giving you full control.

With a hand on the couch you steady yourself, keeping the slow pace, despite your inexperience you’ve heard plenty of talk on how to please a man, you grind your hips against his before lifting up and slowly coming back down, his tip is bruising your cervix even at the turtle tempo. Arthur takes the hat from his head, placing it on yours as you continue to ride him, it gives you a new filled confidence, you speed up, boobs bouncing as your hips slam down. Your moans bounce off the walls and you’re sure your neighbors can hear but god you’re drunk on his cock, Arthur throws his head back as your speed up, clenching around him when you hear his breathy groans, “Fuck..!” He moans, his half lidded glossy eyes meet yours and he snaps, “C’mere.” he says, pulling you close once more, he grips your ass and mercilessly pounds into you, fucking every sweet sound possible out of you, you repeat his name like prayer as the thread inside you snaps, your fingers tangled in his hair as you cum. His pace doesn’t relent, “Just a little longer sweetheart..” He breathily groans in your ear, pumping in and out of your cunt slower til pulls out and finishes. For a few minutes the two of you lay in silence, breathing heavily as you recuperate, you’re the first to break the silence. “You.. are a filthy man Mister. Morgan..” You pant, “Don’t sound like a complaint to me, cowgirl.”