#it’s in moment like this that you wonder because there is just something in arthur’s words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-144444 · 2 months ago

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the grid: when the media says something insane...

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req: Hi, I'd like to request a blurb about the drivers reacting to reader being talked bad about from an interviewer. Scenario-Interviewer: "Do you think the reason you lost today's race is because 'y/n' was here and had something to do with it?"

featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.

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Oscar Piastri: makes the interviewer feel dumb asf

“And how do you feel about the DNF today, knowing that it's breaking your record of competing in every lap so far this year? Is there any specific reason as to why you might’ve made that mistake? I did see some new faces in the garage today,” Danica asked.

Oscar frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

“I was just wondering if you count your partner, Y/n, as a bad luck charm now. This is her first Grand Prix, isn’t it?”

He actually laughed in her face. “Do you seriously believe in shit like that?” he chuckled. “And no, it’s not her first, nor will it be her last.”

Danica stood, embarrassed.

“Do you have any other questions?” he asked, polite as ever. She didn’t respond. “Thanks for the joke anyway, that was actually quite funny,” Oscar added as he moved onto the next interview, a bright smile on his face despite the poor race result.

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Lando Norris: insults the interviewer

“And how do you feel about the DNF today, knowing that it's cementing your loss in the Driver’s Championship? Is there any specific reason as to why you might’ve made that mistake? I did see some new faces in the garage today,” Danica asked.

He stared at her for a moment, trying to compose himself. “If you’re talking about my girlfriend, I’d suggest you just come out and say it, Danica.”

“Alright then, do you see her as a bad luck charm now? Considering this is her first race, if I’m right,” she asked outright. Jenson rolled his eyes beside her as Martin just chuckled.

“Not at all, she’s here to support me and I’d much rather have her here for a day like today than a win. It’s called a support system Danica, I’m aware of the fact that you’re not a fan of those, but some of us actually benefit from caring about other people. And another thing, all of my bad races, you’ve been there. Maybe you’re the bad luck charm,” his voice cut through the tension in the cold Las Vegas air like a knife, and Jenson and Martin just started laughing as Danica stood there dumbfounded. “Maybe I should ask Sky to not bring you around as much.”

He handed the microphone back and continued on with his day, then posted this later:

landonorris

liked by pierregasly, lewishamilton, and 479,933 others

landonorris: idc if ur bad luck ur too sexy to let go of 🥴

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Lewis Hamilton: protective much?

“It’s Y/n’s first race in years, and yet you DNF for the first time in months, do you want to give us some insight to that?” Danica asked.

Lewis’s eyebrow raised and an annoyed smile made its way onto his face. “What are you saying right now?”

“Well, it’s just strange that her first race in years, 2 to be exact, is the one you don’t finish.”

“Are you trying to insinuate that she’s bad luck or something?”

“Is that what you believe her to be?”

“Fuck no,” he scoffed. “She’s my wife, is what she is. I’m grateful that she’s here. I love to share my love of motorsport with my wife, and I don’t feel sorry for the media that she's been preoccupied with being pregnant and busy to be here for the last 2 years. I love having her come and support me, and I’m happy that I didn’t finish the fucking race, I get more time with my family now. I cannot believe you enjoy making shitty headlines like this. Danica, maybe just stick to fucking driving.”

With that, he walked away, and later made this post:

lewishamilton

liked by pierregasly, francocolapinto, and 2,393,932 others

lewishamilton: my good luck charms xx

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George Russell: flabbergasted that someone would have the audacity

“Sorry about the result today George, do you feel like external factors made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned.

“Y’know, it’s been pretty tough all year with the car but it really felt like we pulled back to the top today, and it was just a shame that Lando went wide and pushed me into the gravel,” he shrugged.

“And you don’t see your girlfriend as a bad luck charm? It is her first race, right?”

He death-stared her for a moment. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well, we just wanted to know how you react to knowing that it’s her first race and it’s also the race you DNFed in.”

“I don’t have a reaction,” he scoffed. “Your headlines are going to be written anyway, it doesn’t matter what I say. I don’t see her as bad luck or whatever rubbish you’re going to paint this as, and I don’t really care what you think about it. Anyway, it’s not like you have the monopoly on perfect races, Danica.”

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Kimi Antonelli: awkward and insulted

“Sorry about the result today Kimi, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned.

“Umm…” he trailed off, looking at George confused. George shook his head, silently telling him not to answer. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Well there were external factors, obviously, but also your girlfriend was in the paddock for the first time this weekend, correct?”

He nodded.

“So do you see her as some sort of bad luck charm, or something?”

He pulled a face of disgust for a split second. “No, not at all. She went to every single one of my F2 races so I don’t see how she could have been bad luck here when she was not bad luck there,” he shrugged.

“So she’s not bad luck?”

He chuckled awkwardly. “N-no. Like I say, she was at every one of my F2 races. I think she is lucky, if anything.”

He walked away confused as George reassured him that they were just fishing for headlines and to ‘not give them the time of day’. He was slightly worried that you would think you were a bad luck charm and quickly found you and showed you that you weren’t.

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Alex Albon: shocked.

“Sorry about the race today Alex, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned.

“Umm,” he kind of chuckled. “I don’t think so? I mean it was so wet so I’m not shocked that I went off.”

“But in the garage, do you think you would’ve been more focused if your girlfriend hadn’t been there?”

He just stared at her with a slightly shocked smile as she held the microphone to his face. “Did you actually just ask that?”

She didn’t answer, just nodding.

“Well, why don’t we think back to every other race she’s been at this year. Monaco, Canada, Silverstone, Austria, and Baku, which were all my best races this season, apart from maybe Canada.”

“Yes, but today she was-”

“In the garage, the same as she always is. Wow, you’ll really do anything for a headline.”

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Franco Colapinto: Sassy asf

“Sorry about the crash today, glad to see you’re ok Franco. Do you think this weekend has been a bit more difficult because of distractions or something new being in a paddock? We saw that it was your girlfriend's first GP this weekend, could she have anything to do with it?” Danica asked.

He did a double take, staring at her. “¿Qué? Is that really what you think?”

She shrugged. “It’s only a question.”

“It’s a stupid question,” he scoffed. “¿Por qué traería mala suerte? She has been at every race so far and I haven’t seen anyone complaining.” (Why would she be bad luck?)

“So she’s not bad luck?”

He laughed. “Do I have to repeat things 3 times for you to understand?”

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Logan Sargeant: angry

“Sorry about the result today Logan, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned.

He stared at her, then pushed the mic away from him. “I’m not answering stupid fucking questions about my girlfriend.”

And he walked off. And posted this later…

logansargeant

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, jensonbutton, and 345,938 others

logansargeant: let's not bring my girlfriend into this, yeah?

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Daniel Riccardo: plays it off.

“Sorry about the end of the race today Danny, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned.

He laughed, thinking she was joking. His eyes widened when he realised she wasn’t. “You think I can’t race because my girlfriend is in the back of the garage?”

“It is her first GP, correct?”

He chuckled. “No, no it’s not. She’s always there, and anyways, I’m in the car, it’s not like I have all the time in the world to stare at her ass or something,” he smiled. “I know she’s beautiful but I don’t exactly see her when I’m going to the straight at 200 kilometres an hour.”

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Liam Lawson: sassy man apocalypse

“Sorry about the end of the race today Liam, do you feel like distractions made it more difficult for today’s race?” Danica questioned.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused about the question.

“Your girlfriend was here for the first time, could she be a bad luck charm for the team?”

“I don’t think she is but I do know that your interviews make me feel pretty fucking unlucky,” he scoffed before walking off.

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Charles LeClerc: laughs in their face

“Charles, what do you think about the people saying that Y/n is bad luck in the garage?”

He started laughing and didn’t stop for about a minute. He was as bad as Lando, to the point that Carlos had to actually walk him off the fan stage. He came back on, teary-eyed and smiling. “I think it’s quite funny.”

“Evidently,” Carlos scoffed.

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Carlos Sainz: …

“Carlos, what do you think about the people saying that Y/n is bad luck in the garage?” Danica asked.

“What people are saying that?” he asked.

“The media,” she answered.

“Well they always have bullshit to say. I’m just surprised they had the balls to go after my wife,” he scoffed. “They’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

“That sounds extreme-”

“It’s defamation of character and she’s my wife. Nothing is extreme.”

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Arthur LeClerc: Won’t answer

“Sorry about the race today Arthur, do you think there are other factors, such as distractions, that messed up your race?”

“What a stupid question, no,” he scoffed before walking away.

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Ollie Bearman: insulted

"Sorry about your race today Ollie, do you think that your partner Y/n being here might be a bad omen?"

He stared at her. "No. Why would she be?"

"It's her first GP and you DNF, if that's not bad luck I'm not sure what is."

"That's pretty rude," he scoffed. "Don't bring my girlfriend into this."

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Max Verstappen: guys…

"Sorry about your race today Max, do you think that your partner Y/n being here might be a bad omen?"

He stared at her, his eyes dark. "Fuck off."

"Excuse me?"

"That's bullshit, don't bring my family into this. If I have a bad race, I have a bad race, that's just how it goes. She isn't bad luck, she isn't for you to make headlines about and she's not here to just be a good omen. She's my partner and she's here to support me, that's it."

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Paul Aron: laughs in their face…

"How do you feel about the result to day, do you think things could've been different if someone wasn't distracting you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We saw your race engineer giving out to you and your partner Y/n for distracting you. Do you think she might now be a bad luck charm?"

He scoffed, laughing in her face. "Bullshit, someone turned into me and I didn't have enough time to react. Your headline can be about that, keep my girlfriend out of this."

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Jack Doohan: so normal about it! (...)

“Sorry about the race today Jack, do you think there are other factors, such as distractions, that messed up your race?”

He knew what they were trying to say. “Do you want to just say what you want to say to my face?”

She was taken aback. “Do you think Y/n is a bad luck charm?”

He scoffed. “You’re seriously fishing for headlines when someone could’ve been seriously injured? That’s pathetic. And another thing, she’s not a fucking bad luck charm, she’s my partner, she’s not just a headline for you to fuck with.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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norikuna · 1 month ago

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ACCIDENTALLY YOURS! — jujutsu kaisen

prologue. → some not so meet-cutes 😁 who said love was easy?

pairings. jjk x gn!reader choso, toji, geto, nanami, sukuna, gojo.

warnings+. no curse/jujutsu au, slightly suggestive for toji's. attempted vehicular injuries but gojo's fine w/ it as long as he gets your number. some alcohol mentions. someone has a nosebleed.

word count. 6k! song inspiration. let me in (20 cube) — enhypen

a/n. this is saur silly, and i wrote this super quickly so it's not proofread.

CHOSO KAMO ✶ just trust me bro ... ?!

there's a man in your apartment.

at first, your brain short-circuits with options. scream, call the police, throw your used dinner dishes. why not all three in rapid succession?

it's nine at night, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed with a cozy throw and a criminal minds marathon. instead, fate or your carelessness in leaving the door unlocked, has gifted you with this stranger who just walked in.

this man didn't sneak in, mind you. no, this stranger barrelled through the door, let out a soft groan as he ran into your dining table. he then muttered a soft and polite 'excuse me' before plopping himself down onto your couch like he'd paid three months of rent.

and now? he's sitting there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed. like he's contemplating the futility of existence, or whether he left the stove on at home. you can't quite see his face yet, just the curtain of messy chestnut hair falling over it.

what you can see is that he's wearing an oversized violet sweatshirt that's swallowing him whole, and right over dark cargo pants and scuffed combat boots.

well, now what?

your heart is hammering as you edge closer, gripping a fork behind your back like it's king arthur's sword. he's muttering something, no. a name?

you lean slightly, straining to hear.

"...yuuji, when i c-catch you."

but finally, the stranger looks up at you, as if he's searching your face for this 'yuuji.'

big hazel eyes stare up at you, bleary and glassy, and his lips are pouting, pale pink and peeled raw from where teeth have gnawed into them. his cheeks are slightly flushed, and he smells faintly of cheap alcohol.

great, the strange man in your living room is also drunk. you wonder where your phone is.

"uh, hey. are you one of yuuji's friends?" and the stranger's voice is absurdly deep, but incredibly shy, "can you get him? is he in his room?"

your brows furrow, "huh, who's yuuji? what room?"

the man blinks slowly, and he hiccups. a tiny, almost cute sound — and then he frowns, "yuuji? my little brother? lives here, obviously?" he gestures broad hands around vaguely, loosely.

"no. i live here."

his wide eyes scan the room. your glossy magazine on the table, a cup of hot chocolate next to your laptop which still glows with the not-so-legal streaming site. but you can see the very moment that the stranger's face freezes, like he's just been slapped in the face, "oh."

"yeah."

the stranger groans, dragging his hands down his flushed face and this only makes his clingy strands stick up in strange places, "oh no. oh, man. i — uh, think i'm in the wrong apartment."

"you think?"

"i was just tryna' find yuuji's place," he mutters, his words slurred but earnest, "we live, like, two floors down. but it's all the same, right? like...layout-wise?"

you open your mouth to argue, then close it. technically, he’s not wrong about the layout, but that’s hardly the point. "why didn’t you check the apartment number?"

"because i’m…" he pauses, thick brows knitting together like they’re searching for answers his brain won’t provide. finally, he lands on, "tipsy. yeah, tipsy. i actually really hate drinking, by the way. it was some stupid bet with my little brother."

you lift the fork a little higher, its tines gleaming under the dim overhead light. "so you broke into my apartment."

"hey, i didn’t break in!" he protests, his voice thick with indignation that doesn’t quite match the circumstances, "your door was open."

"unlocked," you grind out, ignoring the mildly adorable pout on his flushed lips,"not an invitation."

the man has the decency to look sheepish, one hand reaching up to scratch at his neck. "uh… yeah. my bad."

his bad? that’s the best he’s got? not a sorry for terrifying you! or a sorry for making you think you’re about to feature in a criminal minds special! but before you can really get going on the lecture building on your tongue, there’s a soft thud.

you glance down. your cat, the fluffy little traitor, is rubbing affectionately against the leg of this random man, purring like an old motorbike. meanwhile, the stranger just lights up, crouching down to scratch behind your cat’s ears with absurd gentleness.

"hey, buddy," he says softly, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. and damn it, he’s got dimples.

"what’s wrong with you? traitor," you hiss at your cat, who just looks far too content in the man's arms.

the stranger looks back up at you with those wide, hazel eyes, his head tilting to the side. "i’m choso, by the way."

"i didn’t ask."

"you’re holding a weapon," choso observes, eyes flicking to your hand.

"it’s a fork," you snap. "and you’re in my apartment."

"touché," he mutters, slouching back into your couch like it’s his own. he looks too tired to argue before he starts rambling, words tumbling out in uneven waves, "look, i’ll leave, okay? sorry for...uhm, being here. it’s just been a rough day, y’know? my brother — he's my little brother, he dared me to drink, and i hate drinking. then the cab driver tried to scam me, and i kinda gave up on the bet and wanted to go home. i don’t even know how i ended up here."

he waves a hand around like the universe itself is to blame for the situation.

you should still be mad. and you are. sort of. but it’s hard to stay furious when the guy in your living room is practically drowning in a sweatshirt two sizes too big, cradling your cat like it’s a lifeline. there’s something weirdly endearing about him, even if your fight-or-flight response still has a foot on the gas.

"fine," you sigh. "but if you've left anything drunk and gross on my couch, you’re coming back tomorrow to clean it."

choso’s face brightens like you just granted him parole. "i didn’t, swear i didn't, but yeah. deal. you’re cool. what’s your name?"

you hesitate, fork still in hand. "why?"

"so i know who to thank when i hopefully sober up. i’m really sorry for scaring you."

"alright, choso." you point to the door. "out. and if i catch you here again uninvited, i’m calling the cops."

he staggers to his feet, towering but unsteady, still cradling your cat. "uh, can i…"

"no," you interrupt. "put mr pickles down."

he pouts but complies, setting the cat down like he’s handling precious cargo. as he shuffles to the door, he glances back, scratching the back of his head, "thanks for not stabbing me with the fork."

"yet, choso," you deadpan.

with that, he stumbles into the hallway, and you slam the door shut before finally locking it properly this time. it’s only then that you notice the little silver bracelet lying on the couch.

maybe when he's also sober, you’ll find him two floors down. not because you’re curious about him or anything. it’s just the responsible thing to do.

probably.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✶ got a mean laugh, huh ?

you'd just wanted a burger. greasy, cheesy, unapologetically unhealthy — a perfect antidote to a day of endless meetings and passive-aggressive emails from your annoying boss.

what you didn’t want was to make an absolute spectacle of yourself in the middle of a restaurant.

but here you were, ever the universe's favourite clown and plaything.

it started innocently enough: you’d been sitting behind him in this faux-american diner, cheap enough that it didn't break your last paycheck.

minding your business and just sitting behind some two loud-talking men, one of them broad and terrifyingly large in a too-tight black gym shirt and the kind of wide-legged pants only men with way too much confidence could pull off.

then he started making strange noises.

at first, you tried to ignore it. who were you to interfere? but then it got louder — a gruff, guttural wheezing that sounded suspiciously like a man choking on his fries. your heroic instincts (and latent secondhand embarrassment) kicked in.

what can you say? you were a natural born avenger. you didn’t think. you acted.

scrambling out of your booth, you darted behind him, arms awkwardly looping around his absurdly muscular torso. it took more than one attempt — why was he built like a human brick wall?

but you managed to start the worst heimlich maneuver known to mankind, trying to remember your hazy first aid training from high school.

"hold still, man!" you grunted, struggling for leverage, and trying not to collapse backwards. "i got this!"

except he didn’t hold still. he started laughing. loud, throaty, barking laughs that only made the situation worse.

"stop squirming, you’re gonna end up choking even more —oh my god, are you fuckin' laughing?!"

"hey, i’m —" the stranger wheezed between gasps, not choking, just laughing so hard his voice cracked, "i’m not choking!"

you froze, mortified, arms still awkwardly wrapped around his incredibly chiselled torso. "you’re...not?"

"tch, nah." his voice was deep, almost lazy, as he twisted his head back to smirk at you, sharp green eyes gleaming with amusement. "but yer' real determined. if i was choking, i’d probably survive. maybe."

you stumbled back, cheeks flaming, trying to pretend the floor might swallow you whole. trying to pretend that someone didn't pull out their phone to record you.

the expensive-looking guy sitting across from him — a man in a sharp, well-pressed brown suit who clearly didn’t belong in a place with laminated menus and sticky booths, just sipped his coffee with an air of quiet disdain.

"i always said you got an ugly-ass laugh, toji," the man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "could ya not traumatise strangers for five minutes?"

"hey, it’s not my fault i got jumped," toji said, shrugging lazily, and the motion made his shirt ride up just enough to reveal a scar slicing across his ridiculously defined abs. "not that i’m complaining. i got humped by someone gorgeous in public. call that a good day, hah."

your brain short-circuited, trying not to stare at the light dusting of hair over his abdomen, "i wasn’t - humping, oh my god, i thought you were choking! i was just trying to be be a good samaritan."

you backed away slowly, trying to act like the horrifyingly awkward scene behind you had not just happened. you didn’t even spare toji a glance, though the smugness radiating off his gorgeous, stupidly muscular frame was practically tangible.

you grabbed your milkshake, your only ally in this tragedy, and downed it with all the dignity of a medieval knight trying to poison themselves with wolfsbane. the cold, creamy sweetness slid down your throat, like you were trying to drown yourself in the sugary oblivion. which you were.

"well," you muttered bitterly, setting the empty glass down with a clink, "i'm gonna disappear from here forever. just gonna...vanish." you made the universal gesture of disappearing: both hands dramatically flailing as if you were casting an invisibility spell.

"wait, hey, give me your number!"

the voice, deep and annoyingly gravelly, floated over the booth like a warm breeze. you stopped dead in your tracks, eyes narrowing in disbelief. no way. no freaking way.

"you’re joking." you turned slowly to glance back at him, at this toji. the guy in the suit across from him — who had been watching this whole disaster unfold with the kind of expression you’d imagine someone gets when they’re asked to hold a million-dollar briefcase during a hostage situation, was now doing the mental equivalent of sinking into his booth like a man deeply embarrassed.

"swear 'm not," toji insisted, leaning back in his own seat, "what if i really do choke and i need ya to save me?"

SUGURU GETO ✶ love at first nosebleed !

you were exactly where you needed to be: right in the thick of the mosh pit at one of your favourite festivals of the year. one that you had scrounged together enough dollars for an overpriced ticket out, all perfect to spend a night out in the cool, desert night air.

the mosh pit was packed. like wall-to-wall bodies, as though you were wading through a sea of waving limbs.

without any warning, the crowd surged forward in a wave of bodies, just as the lead singer of this band threw a rose into the crowd and you squealed. throwing your arms up to steady yourself, and of course, you managed to send your elbow directly into the guy standing behind you.

at first, there's a sharp grunt of surprise, swiftly followed by a:

"hey, what the fuck!"

you turned around in a panic, your breath caught in your throat as you saw the aftermath of your unfortunate swing. oh, blood. it wasn’t just a little trickle, either. it was a full-on fountain.

the stranger's hands were pressed to his face, but you could already see the crimson streaks spilling through his fingers. and as much as your brain screamed oh my god, what have you done?, your first thought was also, holy shit, this guy is gorgeous.

tall. broad. jawline that could cut glass. his hair was jet-black, falling messily to his shoulders, and when he looked up at you, you saw it. his eyes, pretty.

they were a pale, unnatural shade of purple, sharp and disarming, the kind of thing you only saw in movies. or at least, you thought you only saw them in movies, because now you were staring into them, and the moral compass on your shoulder stomped some sense back into you.

"oh god, i’m so, so sorry," you stammer, your hands flying up in a panic. you just didn't know whether to offer him a napkin or your life savings, so you just stand there like a deer caught in headlights, doing the world’s most unhelpful impression of a living, breathing human being, "i didn’t mean to, i didn’t, oh, that's a lotta blood —"

he waves you off nonchalantly, and you immediately thought, what kind of person is so chill about being impaled in the face?

"don’t worry about it,” he said, voice smooth as butter, if a bit nasally, considering the massive nosebleed that makes you feel a bit faint. the kind of nonchalant tone that should not be coming from someone who had blood pouring from his nose like an open tap, "not your fault, really."

"i...i don’t know what to do," you mutter, your hands still flailing around awkwardly. you didn’t have a napkin, or a first aid kit, or any idea what you were doing. hell, you weren’t even sure if the guy was okay without medical attention.

"nah, seriously, chill," the man says with a chuckle, wiping his nose with the back of his hand like it was no big deal, "relax, i’m fine. it’s just blood. it happens."

just blood. just blood. you stare at him for a beat, trying to wrap your brain around the fact that he was genuinely not bothered. if you had a nosebleed like this, you’d be on the ground, crying for your mother and your entire bloodline, but here this guy was, an absolute unit of a man, all broad shoulders and muscular thighs — bleeding out in front of you, and acting like it was the most mundane thing in the world.

"are you sure?" you ask, your voice pitched too high from nerves. "i mean, i feel like — i don’t know, i feel like i should at least be doing something to... help? like, i can — oh! i can find you something!"

you start rifling through your bag in a panicked frenzy. who carries band-aids to a concert? not you. who carries tissues to a concert? definitely not you. all you could offer was a packet of gum, a half-melted candy bar, and some lip balm. great. you were the epitome of preparedness.

you frown, "fuck, i'm really so sorry, i was just kinda, -" and you wave your arms around in the air as a half-hearted impression, as he tentatively takes a step back. probably worried you're gonna bazooka his chin next, and leave him with a busted lip.

"hah, i get it," he says with a shrug, as if his nose was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, "practically an expected hazard of being in the mosh pit."

you looked at him, genuinely unsure whether he was joking or just that calm about it, "you’re really okay? i'd really rip part of my sleeve, i don't know, if that would help," but you tug the sheer fabric, "but this is kind of tough elastane. oh my god, what am i even saying?"

"eh, i’ve had worse." the stranger gives you a grin that only made the situation feel more surreal. he was smiling, smiling — despite the fact that he was actively leaking blood like he’d been in a fight with a giant squid.

damn, you kinda like your men when they look a bit unhinged.

“look, just —" he cuts you off, “i'm flattered someone this cute is flustered over me. kinda nice, hah."

your face goes scarlet. "i am not cute, i should be terrifying," you gasp, mortified. “i just broke your nose in a mosh pit, and i —"

and that’s when it clicked. your brain finally registered the fact that this guy wasn’t some random concert-goer. no, this was geto—the suguru geto, the lead guitarist of the band that was headlining the festival tonight. you’d been a fan for years, practically worshipping the man’s guitar solos and smooth stage presence. and now...now you had broken his nose.

god help you when stan twitter got their hands on you.

you stare at him, wide-eyed, and he must’ve noticed the shift in your expression because he raised a pierced brow, "oh, i see it now. you, uh, a fan?"

"uhm," you squeak, still too mortified to speak normally, and trying to lower your voice to sound chill and unbothered. but it's just not working. "of course i recognise you! you’re — geto!"

suguru geto bashfully grins, as if pleased with your sudden realisation, though the blood dripping from his nose didn’t exactly lend him the aura of mystery he was used to, "i gotta say, you’re the first person to recognise me looking like this." he pauses, glancing at his nose with a casual flick.

you let out an awkward, nervous laugh. hoping that the divine powers have some pity for you, and you actually don't mess this up further, "i’m so sorry again. i really didn’t mean to —"

"seriously,” geto said, cutting you off again, "you don’t need to keep apologising. i get it, you're real sweet." then, after a pause, he tilted his head, his purple eyes glinting. "but, hey, next time i’m on stage? i’ll make sure to look for you in the crowd. you won’t be able to miss me. i’ll be the guy with the broken nose."

and just like that, it hit you. he wasn’t just being cool about the situation. he was flirting with you. the man was literally bleeding from his face, and he was flirting with you.

you open your mouth to say something, anything — but before you could form the words, geto flashes a wink, that same mischievous grin never leaving his face, "just gonna have to go and get this looked at. manager's gonna lose his shit, but see you around, yeah?"

NANAMI KENTO ✶ is it too late to turn this plane around ?

the plane shuddered just slightly as it levelled out, and you gripped the armrest as if your life depended on it, trying to pretend that you weren't ready to hurl the contents of your empty stomach over economy class.

it didn’t help that your armrest companion, sharply dressed, annoyingly calm, and with a face that could have been carved from marble — seemed utterly unbothered by the subtle turbulence. he didn’t even glance up from his boring ass magazine.

you had been stealing glances at him since he sat down. the suit caught your attention first, impeccably tailored, so he was probably some finance guy. his tie, a speckled shade of banana yellow that somehow still looked elegant, was loosened just enough to suggest this wasn’t his first flight today, though not so much as to appear disheveled.

well, just your luck that you were seated next to someone who looked like they could be a stone-faced nordstrom model.

his face, though. well, damn! it was the face that made him hard to look away from. angular features, strong jawline, and a slight furrow in his brow that gave him a perpetually exasperated look. the kind of face that probably made people think twice before asking him for directions.

you, however, were not most people.

"so," you began, forcing your voice to sound light and casual, even though your heartbeat felt like it was trying to escape your chest. "do you think we’re supposed to hear that sound?"

he finally looked at you, glancing up from his magazine with the slow precision of someone who was already regretting their decision to acknowledge you.

"which sound?" he asks, his voice calm but carrying a hint of weariness. his blonde hair was neatly slicked back, though a single strand had rebelliously fallen onto his forehead.

"uhm, you know. that sound," you said, gesturing vaguely toward the overhead compartments as if that explained anything.

his gaze followed your hand, and his brow furrowed further, not in alarm but in what looked like mild irritation. “the plane engine or the luggage settling. perfectly normal." his tone is clipped, curt.

"are you sure? i watched a tiktok that said that there was a one in a thirteen million chance of being a plane crash. that's like...too much for me," you press, trying to ignore the mild rattle of the window.

he sighs softly, the kind of sigh that said he was already dreading the rest of the flight. "yes. i’m sure. i would not trust...short videos made by attention desparate people on the internet."

“okay, but what if it’s not normal? like, what if it’s—”

"it’s not the plane falling apart," he interrupted, his tone polite but firm. "i promise you."

you blink at him, momentarily silenced by the sheer certainty in his voice. "well, that’s reassuring, i think," you say finally, "thanks, uh…" you glanced at the seat tag clipped to his bag. "nanami kento. i mean, just nanami, right? don't wanna full name you..."

he inclines his head slightly, acknowledging the unspoken introduction, then returned to his magazine. it didn’t escape your notice that he turns the page with the kind of precision you’d expect from a surgeon.

you sit back in your seat, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that you were currently hurtling through the air in a metal tube. but the silence didn’t last long.

"so, what are you reading?" you asks, craning your neck slightly to get a better look at the magazine in his hands.

nanami hesitates, like he was debating whether to humour you or not. finally, he said, "an article on japan’s economic trends."

you blink. "oh. thrilling."

the corner of his stern mouth twitches, just barely, as if he was fighting back an amused smile, "i find it...informative."

"sure, but informative and thrilling are two very different things," you point out.

nanami turns another page, still exuding that same infuriating calm, "you seemed like you needed a distraction," he says, almost reluctantly. "would you prefer i explain it to you?"

you tilt your head, surprised by the offer. "you’d...explain the economy to me? as a distraction?"

"you were the one asking about plane sounds, and you look as though you're going to pass out. i'm not keen on doing first aid if it can be avoided," nanami says, with a tone so dry that it grates over you.

"fair point," you admit, "okay, hit me. tell me something i don’t know about japan’s economy."

he adjusts his glasses, his expression unreadable as he snaps his magazine straight in front of him, reading off the page, "the yen has been under significant pressure lately, largely due to increased government spending and concerns over inflation. it’s a precarious balance, on one hand, stimulus is necessary to sustain growth —"

nanami gives you a stern glare as you stifle back a yawn but continues, "but on the other, it weakens the currency against global competitors. the nikkei index reflects this uncertainty, fluctuating in response to external factors like american monetary policy and global market trends.”

you stared at him, trying to process the flood of information. frankly, you've never given a fuck about economics, and you had been more busy staring at his smooth lips, "so.. don’t buy yen?"

nanami's mouth twitches again, and this time you were certain it was kinder. "that’s one takeaway."

"wow," you said, leaning back in your seat, "you really know how to distract someone."

"was it helpful?" nanami asks, his tone suggesting he wasn’t entirely sure himself.

you considered that for a moment, "actually, yeah. i mean, i don’t understand half of what you just said, but it was so boring i forgot about the plane noises. uh, i hate planes. in case, you couldn't tell."

his eyes soften ever so slightly behind his glasses, "i could tell. glad to be of service."

you found yourself smiling despite your nerves. there was something unexpectedly charming about his awkward attempt to engage you, even if it involved the driest topic imaginable.

"you know," you say, "you don’t seem like the kind of guy who enjoys small talk."

"not in the slightest," nanami admits.

"so why are you humouring me?"

he glances at you, "didn't want you to throw up over my jacket."

the plane lurches, and you look at him with panicked eyes, "i wouldn't be so relaxed yet! oh, fuck, pass me that plastic bag, wouldya?"

RYOMEN SUKUNA ✶ retail's worst nightmare !

working retail was a game of holy patience, and holy fuck, you were losing.

it wasn't just the holiday rush or the fluorescent lights buzzing ominously as spotify worked through the most overplayed songs of the year.

it was him.

the man who was always camped out in your section of the store, for at least thirty minutes. for each of your shifts, rifling through stacks of neatly folded shirts like a bored bear rooting through a cooler. you watched, jaw grinding, as he unfurled yet another oversized graphic tee. flattening it against his broad frame, against the washed denim of his thick jeans. holding it up like he was considering buying it.

only to toss it back onto the table in a rumpled heap.

occasionally, he'd slide down his red headphones and you'd watch him flex wide arms, tattoos crawling out of the neckline of his shirt as he huffed.

you hated this innocuous customer. hated how ridiculously good-looking he was, in a way that screamed danger. what, with the mess of blush-pink hair and deep, russet eyes. hated how little he seemed to care about the destruction he was wreaking on your display, and most of all, you hated how he smiled whenever you sighed audibly.

making eye contact with you as he tossed yet another tee into the ruined pile.

"are you gonna keep unfolding those shirts?" you snap finally, "or are you actually planning to buy something?"

the man turns, slow and deliberate, and his gaze slides down to your name tag before sharp teeth unfurl from the corners of a rosy mouth, "relax," he drawls, "i'm just browsing."

browsing. right. you stare at the disaster zone that he's created, the meticulously folded rows of band-tees now reduced to a chaotic mound of cotton.

"this isn't a library," you shoot back, hands on your hips, "either decide or move on."

he arches a brow, clearly enjoying himself, "why so tense? isn't this your job?"

you let out a cool breath through your nose, clenching your teeth to fine dust, "yeah. my job isn't babysitting grown men who can't pick a shirt size."

the stranger blinks, pink lashes fluttering over sharp, dark eyes. as though he's genuinely considering this. then, with an absolutely maddening level of confidence, he grabs another shirt.

a hideous neon green monstrosity, with some kind of skull prints, and he shakes it out right in front of you. letting the creases fall out, dangling it like a flag of triumph.

"this one's nice, heh," he says.

"if you ruin one more folded pile, i'm gonna stuff that shirt down your big-ass neck."

his laugh is sudden and loud, echoing through the department. a couple of shoppers turn to look, but he seems to not care in the slightest, "ya can't say that to me. but you got guts, i'll give you that."

"and you’ve got about five seconds to put that shirt down before i make you refold this entire table," you shoot back.

he doesn't move. instead, he holds your gaze, clearly testing your patience. his wolf's smile was now edged with something sharper, something that dared you to follow through on your threat.

"you’re serious, aren'tcha?" he asks, almost impressed.

"deadly," you replied.

for a moment, you thought he might actually comply. but then, with the same deliberate slowness, he dropped the neon green shirt onto the pile he’d already decimated.

you stared at it. then at him. you think you're trying to pour gasoline on him, and blow him up in your mind.

"what's your name?" you ask flatly.

"sukuna."

"i hope a thousand evil little bugs descend on your house tonight, sukuna. i hope they invade your dreams so you know i'm wishing a curse upon you."

"that's kinda hot," he replies, without missing a beat and turning to leave.

"you can’t just walk away!" you called after him, but he was already halfway to the escalator, hands shoved in his pockets like he didn’t have a care in the world, and already pulling his crimson headphones back up.

you groaned, grabbing the nearest shirt to start refolding the mess he’d left behind.

then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw sukuna pause at the top of the escalator. he turned, just enough to make eye contact, and called out:

"when's your lunch break? let's go out!"

GOJO SATORU ✶ you charge my particles :D

the emergency department smelled like antiseptic and awful syringes. you were perched on the edge of a very uncomfortable chair, hands clenched in your shaking lap. staring at the guy you had, accidentally, thank you very much, run over in a parking lot.

his leg was propped up, wrapped up in plenty of gauze and a ice-pack, and he also looked oddly serene for someone with a pretty nasty, bruised up limb.

when you had first gotten there, you had been sick with guilt and worry that this poor stranger had been knocked unconscious by the rear of your car. but to your absolute bewilderment, he was actually just...sleeping? dozing off, sprawled back with a soft and peaceful smile on his face like he was just happy to catch a good snooze. the most absurd shade of ice-white hair mussed around his head.

that was, until his eyes fluttered open.

"oh my god, you're awake!" you blurted, leaning forward, with regret pouring out of you, "are you okay? does your leg hurt? what am i saying, of course it does! i am so sorry —"

he turns his head to you, blinking slowly. his eyes were a ridiculous, striking shade of blue. like glacier water caught in the sun. and then he grinned, voice still a little rough from his nap.

"hey, cutie."

you stare, utterly thrown, "excuse me?"

"what's up, gorgeous? don't worry, i forgive you for attempted vehicular manslaughter."

"good god," you muttered, "i hit his head too."

the stranger stretches his arms above his head, and you try not to track your stare to ridiculously, circus-long legs that sprawl over the crumpled sheets of the wheeled bed. way too tall, lean and far too good-looking for someone who had just been brought via ambulance to the hospital.

"it's fine, i swear," the man says, waving a scraped hand dismissively, "i needed a day off, so you did me a favour."

"a favour," you repeat, utterly incredulous, "you're in the emergency department. i backed up my car into you!"

the stranger shrugs, wincing at the stretch. and utterly unbothered by your fluttering worries, "yeah. but think 'bout it. if you hadn't hit me, i'd be stuck in a lecture hall. i don't wanna explain newtonian mechanics to a bunch of half-asleep undergrads."

you stare at him, suspiciously, "you're a professor?"

"mhm, physics."

"you don't look old enough to be a professor," and you're squinting at white lashes that ring impossibly large eyes. he looks more like a famous actor that you can't quite place, or someone's beautiful sugar baby.

no, focus.

he smirks, pale and glossy lips quirking upwards, "saying i look too good to be stuck in academia?"

"what? no," you say quickly, worried that he's gonna think you're a freak who hits on their victims, "that's not what i meant."

"you can say it," the man interrupted, still grinning, "i get it a lot. oh, satoru, you're too handsome to be explaining thermodynamics. satoru, you should be on the big screen, not teaching string theory. it's a bit of a curse."

you rub your temples, trying to block out the nonsense coming out of his fast-moving mouth, "you're kinda...weird. satoru."

"you hit me with a car," he points out cheerfully.

before you can retort, or ask him if he has private health insurance, a nurse clicks over, a clipboard in her hand as she's tapping her pen impatiently.

"mr gojo? we're ready to take you back for another x-ray? we just want to make sure that we also get a good picture at some soft tissues, so an mri as well."

your poor wallet.

"great," satoru says, and then to your utter horror, he adds, "i'll just leave my stuff with my partner, right?"

the nurse raises an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. you feel your tongue go dry, "i'm not —" but satoru cuts you off, with a voice like silk.

"so shy, right?" and he's flashing the nurse a charming smile that makes your nose crinkle, "but i'm just so glad that they're here through this difficult situation."

the nurse looks mildly skeptical, and you can feel your face heat up as she sighs, and stares at you.

"i...yeah. gotta be there for my sugar pumpkin snookums, right?"

it's satisfying that the tips of satoru's ears turn an awful shade of pink as he glares at you now, "such a sweetheart," and he pats your hand.

the nurse seems more inclined to roll her eyes, clearly over what she assumes are the antics of a medicine-doped boyfriend, "right. let's get that leg checked out."

as she wheels him away, satoru winks at you over his shoulder, "don't go anywhere, pretty!"

what a fiend. grinning like he's having the time of his life.

713 notes · View notes

zae-heeyyy · 8 months ago

Text

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

#peep the angel number word count #all banners made by be #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 photography #read dead redemption 2 photography #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #wait i used 3 word counters and they all gave different numbers so idk what that's about. grammarly says 2222 though so 🤷🏾‍♀️#zaefic #amje

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pettyprocrastination · 7 months ago

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Art “oral fixation” Donaldson ya’ll. Type of kid who always got a pop upside the head from his momma because “quit chewing on your nails arthur! You’ll get pinworms.” A habit that was once curbed as a child but still rears it’s head in times of stress. You can always tell when he’s nervous about something because you’ll catch him absentmindedly chewing on a pen cap while working or studying.

Art being the sloppiest and most selfish kisser on god’s green earth. It’s never one kiss (he always promises it will be though). One turns into two, then another to your cheek, then the other side and down your neck until he’s leaving hickies and humming against your skin and the funny thing is he doesn’t even have to want to have sex he just loves having his mouth on you that goddamn much. You start keeping a small travel bag of concealer in his dorm because of how often you need to hide the goddamn hickies he leaves on you everytime you visit him.

“You might as well just not bother with covering them up.”

“You’re not the one who looked like they got jumped by Dracula, dipshit.”

You see the way he was waiting to kiss Tashi when she was kissing patrick? Eyes all glazed over and mouth open? Yeah that. Baby boy will gladly just suck and kiss and bite you all over- you dont even have to do anything! Just lay there and run your hands through his hair and maybe tell him he’s doing a good job now and then he’ll be in fucking nirvanna.

The way he eats you out verges on being selfish tbh. He’s practically drooling over your cunt, moaning against your clit like it brings him more pleasure than it does for you. He won’t pull away until you’ve cum more than once and even then you’ll have to pull him away from his spot between your legs, where he’ll look at you with confusion wondering if he’s done something wrong before it melts into that grin and he’ll lay his head on your stomach, content to simply sit in this moment with you before the pair of you have to return to the normal hustle and bustle of your lives.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #you know the 'biting is my love language' thing? yeah him #idk what i was going for here #anywhoo

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messrmoonyy · 10 months ago

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- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold.

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place.

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid.

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party.

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more.

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery.

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back.

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl.

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress.

Always the gentleman.

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too.

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued.

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you.

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly.

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did

“ distinguished my ass “

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways.

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow.

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like.

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over.

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire.

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course.

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear.

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment.

“ that’s my girl “

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had.

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money.

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham.

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on.

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over.

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you.

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats.

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again.

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t.

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices.

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night.

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it.

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates.

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you.

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs.

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party.

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be.

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy.

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people.

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them.

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help.

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days.

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering.

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one.

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest.

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished.

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds.

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house.

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other.

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition.

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about.

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you.

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice.

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels.

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming.

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed.

“ good girl “

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had.

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them.

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little.

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused.

“ yeah? About what? “

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again.

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you.

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were.

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you.

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth.

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face.

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you.

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband.

He’d ask you one day.

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return.

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again.

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain.

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt.

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan.

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music.

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house.

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along.

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters.

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that.

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist.

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head.

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons.

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening.

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins.

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel.

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp.

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room.

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him.

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him.

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist.

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away.

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head.

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location.

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well.

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking.

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy.

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on.

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him.

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs.

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine.

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm.

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure.

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him.

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit.

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper.

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already.

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings.

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle.

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too.

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted.

And wouldn’t that be a tale.

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants.

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt.

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins.

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too.

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too.

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch.

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could.

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches.

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard.

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you.

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice.

“ y’think so? “

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too.

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him.

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath.

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him.

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired.

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait.

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did.

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing.

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall.

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush.

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you”

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless.

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect.

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer.

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter.

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock.

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up.

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days.

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose.

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed.

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself.

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure.

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it.

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek

“ mhm sure “

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

#Amy in the kindest possible way. keep scrolling #I know I’m posting late but I want i didn’t wanna wait until tomorrow sooo #ANYWAYS. FIRST ARTHUR UPLOAD WHOO #crippling fear or writing for a new character and fandom starts now!#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Arthur Morgan smut #x you #Dutch van der linde #van der linde gang

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gabbytvclarke · 8 days ago

Text

The dog and the postwoman PART TWO: The Sleepover

Part one here! ♥

• Summary: After meeting Arthur TV and filming her first pub golf, y/n heads back to the boys’ flat for a sleepover, where more sweetness with Arthur continues. • Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!George Clarke, friend!ChrisMD and friend!Arthur Hill) • Slow burn fluff, newfound friends to something more? More of exchanged glances, light touches, etc. • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes • Word count: 4,452 words Note: Arthur Hill will be either referred to by his full name or just ‘Hill’, Arthur TV will just be ‘Arthur’!

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

“Oh really?” Arthur questioned, his cheeks beginning to burn again as y/n turns to look at him. The closeness of their faces in the cramped taxi adding to the heat as they lock eyes and share giggle.

George clears his throat, feeling the rising tension. “Better than people shipping Arthur and Chris again!” He chuckles, turning to Chris, “The amount of edits of you biting Arthur is mental.” Y/n and Arthur laugh. George draws his attention to his phone, resting his head on his fist with his elbow leaning on the taxi door handle. Chris initiates more small talk with the driver.

Arthur looks out the window to try and calm his nerves, sobering up slightly and suddenly feeling a tad anxious after the boys mentioned them potentially being shipped. He wonders to himself whether the boys are teasing him because his crush is so one-sided, or whether they're teasing because y/n is into him too. Could she like him? Is she only nice out of pity because he's a bit of an oddball? He knows the only way to find that out is to speak to y/n directly, and because of that he begins to feel a weight on his shoulders. Y/n also watches the streets pass by through the window on Arthur’s side, every so often she glances to Arthur. She can see that Arthur's deep in thought, tapping his fingers on the car door and knotting his eyebrows together. She remembers seeing moments in videos where he gets into a daze, and doesn’t think too much about it. Just in case though, she breaks the silence in the back of the taxi.

“What film are we watching when we get in?” She asks.

“Hm, not sure. Chris will probably pick or else he’ll get in a strop.” George answers quietly with a smirk, waiting for Chris to retaliate but he’s still too busy talking to the driver.

“Probably something terrifying,” Arthur chimes in, louder on purpose so Chris can definitely hear, “Chris likes to make us watch films full of jump scares to ‘see our reactions’, though I really think it’s because he’s too scared to watch it alone.” he laughs at his own comment, feeling a bit more relaxed again.

“That’s so not true Arthur.” Chris states, his voice breaking halfway through. “God I need a drink when we get home.”

“I think you’ve had enough mate.” George quips.

“Of water, you dickhead.” Chris snaps back, throwing his head back against the headrest.

When they pull up to their flat, Chris pays the driver and wishes him a good evening as the other three make their way into the building. They all kick their shoes off and Arthur removes his dog onesie, which he was using as a coat after only wearing shorts and a T shirt underneath. George also whips off his pickle costume, wearing similar attire to Arthur the whole time too. They throw their costumes on the floor. “Oh hey guys… and girl.” Arthur Hill says, walking through to the entryway, not expect y/n’s presence. Everyone else greets him as Chris enters, throwing his pickle costume to the pile on the floor too, muttering something about binning them later. “You all look like you need big glasses of water” Hill chuckles, looking across each ex-player, his eyes ending on Chris and widening.

“Fuck the film, I’m going to bed,” Chris groans, heading to the kitchen to grab some water first, “I’ll grab you two some blankets and spare pillows. You okay taking one of the sofas too y/n?” Y/n looks to their huge comfy sofas and nods.

“I think I can handle a movie, if anyone's still interested?” George offers to the room. Y/n and the Arthurs accept. Y/n immediately plops on one of the sofas, patting and feeling it with her hands and smiles to herself at how they're as comfortable as they look.

“I’ll grab you guys some water and paracetamol… and some food too.” Hill says as he heads into the kitchen area, Arthur follows him but passes to go to the bathroom. George collapses onto the other sofa and gets Netflix up on their huge TV. Hill passes y/n a tablet and water, setting the other two on the shared coffee table. He sits himself next to y/n. “No, Hill. Come sit by me mate.” George calmly suggests. Hill looks to him confused, shrugs and obliges. Y/n is busy messaging Becky to even pay attention. George then whispers in Hill's ear and they look to y/n, who's still none the wiser, and Hill gives George a subtle thumbs up.

Arthur enters the lounge area holding a pile of fresh folded blankets and pillows balancing on top. “Chris says ‘good night’,” he grunts a half-arsed impression of a grumbly Chris. He wobbles his way to the sofas, dropping the pillows to the floor and the top two smaller blankets onto George and Hill, and taking the larger blanket to share on the sofa with y/n as he plops down next to her. "They're for us to use later." Arthur explains to y/n. She nods and drapes the blanket over them both.

“I’ve put a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven, you all should definitely eat something tonight.” Hill says.

“Thanks Hilly” y/n replies. George scrolls through the horror section on Netflix, waiting for everyone to agree. Y/n is open minded the whole time, whereas Arthur doesn’t want to watch one that he’s seen recently. Hill doesn’t fancy anything too gory and George just wants a film picked ASAP. The boys bicker a little as y/n watches on in amusement. Arthur makes himself comfortable, slouching with his arm resting by y/n. Y/n gets herself into a more relaxed position herself, but couldn’t deny feeling slightly chilly while she sits by the flat’s flimsy windows. She pulls her side of the blanket further up to her chin, sitting with her knees to her chest. “You cold?” Arthur whispers to her, while George and Hill are debating what makes a film 'too gory'.

“A bit, but I’ll be okay,” y/n replies. Arthur doesn’t have anything to chivalrously lend to her, not without being shirtless.

“Oh! Do you want to wear my dog onesie? I promise I didn’t spill anything on it.” He offers, throwing his half of the blanket off himself and standing to his feet, a little too fast and giving himself head rush. Y/n chuckles at his eagerness.

“Sure, thank you,” she answers, but by this time Arthur is already bringing the onesie over. She stands and puts it on over her postwoman costume. It was already big on Arthur, so it hangs even baggier on her, with her feet still tucked in the cuffed foot holes. She sits back down and pulls the blanket back over herself. “Much better,” she sighs contently.

“Don’t forget the hood!” Arthur grins, pulling the hood up from between her shoulders and over her head, giving her a couple of light pats. “There. Good girl.” He whispers as he leans in closer to her, a nod to her comment back in the last pub. Y/n scrunches her face up as she laughs, Arthur’s hand still on her head. He gently slides his hand down to her cheek, leaving it there for a second before setting it back on his lap. Y/n feels her face start to burn, thankful Arthur moved his hand away in time before he could feel it too, but also wishing he was cupping her cheek still. Finally, they all decide on a movie. Hill excuses himself to grab their dinner before it plays, then re-enters a few minutes later carrying two plates of pizza, which he had kindly cut into slices. George immediately grabs a slice. “Thanks mate,” he mumbles with his mouth full. As Hill gets himself comfy on his sofa again, George presses play on the movie. The four sit in silence while they watch and eat, ironically Hill eating more pizza than the others.

A particularly intense moment begins building in the movie, and y/n's body stiffens up. Arthur looks to her and can see her wide eyed and taking shallower breaths. "Ahh!" He suddenly screamed as he grabs her, the hand that was once resting behind her now grabbing her shoulder and his other hand reaching over and grasping her arm, making her jump out of her skin. She flinches so hard that the hood of the onesie flies back off. "Fucking hell mate!" George also calls out, pausing the film specifically to turn and shout at Arthur. Hill is sat in silence with his hand to his chest, panting slightly.

"Sorry guys, I won't do it again." Arthur chuckles, still holding y/n but he loosens his grip. The film continues. "Sorry," his whispers again but just to y/n, pulling her slightly closer to direct his apology gently into her ear.

"It's okay," she giggles back quietly, nestling herself more comfortably against Arthur. He smiles to himself as his attention turns back to the TV. After a while, y/n pulls the blanket up to her nose.

"Is it my breath?" Arthur jokes quietly.

"No no, my nose is cold," she muffles, which is true.

"Lemme see." Arthur replies, pulling the blanket off her face and pressing his nose against hers. "Oh yeah.' he whispers sweetly, his face lingering there for a moment as his warm breath fans her face. She pauses, even her pulse. He tilts his face to the side slightly and slowly leans in further, his lips not even an inch away from hers, before George chokes on his water. The sudden noise causing the pair to jump. They had almost forgotten that there are others present.

George sputters as Hill smacks him on the back. "Sorry. Wrong hole," he sheepishly croaks.

"Now we have to rewind because you forgot how to drink, a basic human task!" Hill whines.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry," George murmurs, reaching for the remote and getting the film to where it was before it was interrupted. Y/n and Arthur share a look. Both sporting a shy smile, both wondering if the other could hear the other's heart pounding.

A jump scare happens and the whole room jumps, y/n is startled so much so that she grips Arthur's thigh in a panic. His eyes go wide. Her hand feels perfect on him, half over his shorts' leg and the other half on his bare skin - which feels like it's burning under her touch. His tongue swipes over his lower lip nervously. She realises what she's doing and slowly releases her grip, adjusting the blanket as an excuse to pull her hand away. She notes to herself how firm and hairy Arthur's thigh is, so rugged compared to his soft demeanour. "Scared?" He whispers teasingly in her ear.

"No..." She retorts, almost silently. He squeezes her closer to him sweetly and chuckles.

"Cute." Did he just say... Did she hear that right? She can't help the smile creep on her lips either way.

After the movie finishes, the group take a few moments to discuss what they think of the ending. Y/n is distracted by her phone pinging, so she leans over to check it, laying on her side but still curled up under the blanket. It’s a text from Chip, hardly making any sense.

‘I’m home and a live heehe was nice meetin you proper today. u should ask author out you wld be so leng leng together xxxx’

Y/n thanks him for the fun day and a good night message, returning her full attention back to the group conversation but staying laid on her side. “Y/n looks like a little cinnamon bun over there, you tired from the pub golfing?” Hill asks. Arthur turns his gaze back to her, his heart melting a little at how cozy she looks.

“A little tired, yeah,” y/n answers before yawning. The three golfers tell Hill about their day, each with their own little anecdotes. Arthur does a lot of the talking, keeping his voice lower for Chris’s sake. It sounds like liquid gold. Listening to the boys’ chatter, y/n feels her eyes getting heavy as her blinks get slower. And slower. And slower.

--------

Her eyes gradually open, thankfully only a tinge of a headache surrounding her, all thanks to Hill’s insistence of drinking water from the previous night. The morning rays cascade on her through the windows of the boys’ living room. She gently sits up and looks over her shoulder, confused to see a pillow behind her that she definitely hadn’t placed the night before. When she faces forward again, she can see Arthur laying on his back on the other couch, staring intensely at his phone. When she squints her eyes, she can just make out a chess game on his screen. “Morning,” she yawns, startling him out of his match.

“Oh! Morning y/n,” Arthur replied, casually locking his phone and rolling over to face her. Abandoning a game that just now, he was so focused on. “Did you sleep alright?”

“I did,” she replies and a groggy smile, “although I really need to brush my teeth.”

“Me too, I’ll see if the guys have any spare toothbrushes for us.” Arthur replies, before stretching and hopping to his feet. He shuffles out of sight before y/n leans over and grabs her phone. It’s almost dead, so she grabs the portable charger from her postbag and sits back on the sofa. Upon plugging it in, she notices a text from George from the early hours of the morning.

“Cuties 🥹”

With a photo attached. She clicks the message for a better look and her eyes nearly bug out of her head. The photo is of her laying asleep curled up on the sofa, phone in hand. However, Arthur was big-spooning her, in almost the fact same curled up position. She zooms in on the photo to see his arm is sandwiched between and his face is all squishy from his position - he was fast asleep too. She hearts the photo and saves it to her phone, feeling giddy. However, soon after she stops to think. ‘If he was lying with me here, why was he on the other sofa when I woke up?’ She starts to worry herself, scared she farted or snored or something and gave him the ick.

“Well that’s not the face of a morning person.” George stated, standing in the living room in just sweatpants and a baggy T shirt. His croaky voice startles y/n slightly before she chuckles.

“Just in deep thought,” she replies.

“About what, the photo?” George asks. Y/n shushes him and waves her hand at him aggressively. George rolls his eyes.

“Relax y/n, I walked past Chris’s room just now and they’re both gassing about Lord of the Rings stuff.” Which makes y/n grin. George takes a seat next to her on the sofa. “The photo’s pretty simple, he fell asleep next to you.”

“Yeah,” y/n nodded, “but what happened?”

“Not sure entirely, I was chatting to Hill and realised Television was suspiciously quiet, when we looked over we saw you two spooning.” George explains, “we figured we’d leave you both to your sleepy time and both headed to bed ourselves. We left spare toothbrushes out for you by the way.”

Y/n stands up and yawns. “Thanks Clarkey” she sends him a half smile before making her way to the bathroom.

“Wait,” he starts, “Looks like Arthur slept on this couch.” he gestures to the pillows and disarrayed blankets on the other sofa.

“Yeah I think he did, did you see him get up at all before you went to bed?” Y/n asks quietly, fully aware she’s closer to Chris’s room now.

“I didn’t, like I said, you were cozied up when we last saw you.” he replies. Y/n pauses to think, eyes serious. “If you’re worried, just ask him mate,” George suggests. Y/n nods and heads to Chris’s room. George shakes his head with a smirk and whispers “Young love” to himself.

When y/n gets to Chris’s doorway, she can tell the boys are in deep conversation. As soon as Chris locks eyes with her, he clears his throat.

“Oh, good morning y/n. You sleep well?” he asks, his voice higher than usual.

“I did thanks, sorry to interrupt the hobbit talk,” she starts, making the boys chuckle. Arthur struggles not to stare, but he can’t believe how good she looks first thing in the morning, although it doesn’t surprise him. “Arthur, there are toothbrushes awaiting us.”

They head to the bathroom and brush their teeth in a comfortable silence. When they're both finished and put their toothbrushes back in the spare glass, the brush heads happen to be pressed together. "Look," Arthur points, giggling, "our brushes are smooching!" Making y/n laugh. Arthur beams proudly, admiring how unreserved her smile is. Just before they head out, y/n psyches herself up and reaches for the hem of Arthur's shirt.

“Hey, before we go back out there, I have to ask you something.” His hand is already on the door handle, but he stops himself and turns to face her, feeling his chest tighten.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I hate to be awkward, but George sent me a photo from last night.” She begins, unlocking her phone to pull the photo up.

“Is it the one of us asleep on the couch? George sent me the same one.” Arthur chuckles shyly, sliding his hands in his shorts pockets and finding it hard to look in y/n’s direction. His face quickly drops and a look of anxiety washes over him, thinking he's in trouble. “I am so, so sorry for that. I must’ve fallen asleep before I could even realise-”

“Oh that’s okay Arthur, really. I thought it was quite cute.” Y/n assures him. Colour starts to flood back to his face as he finally looks at her, a small smile tugs one corner of his mouth with relief.

“I was more curious to know what happened after you first fell asleep, I noticed you switched sofas during the night,” she explains, searching his face for an answer before he even speaks.

“I see,” Arthur nods slowly, and he begins to explain:

“I’m not sure when I fell asleep but when I woke up, I was still laying behind you, like in the photo. You were fast asleep and I kind of panicked. I didn’t want you to wake up and see I was laying up against you without any consent and think I was a weirdo or something. So I figured I should move to the other couch and hoped you’d not know about the accidental spooning. I very carefully got up from the couch. You looked comfy, but I could only imagine the neck ache you’d wake up with. So I grabbed a pillow from the floor and very carefully lifted your head and slipped it under. You looked so much comfier then. Then I got on my couch and I guess I fell asleep straight away, as I can't remember much else.”

Y/n sighs, she smiles and shakes her head. “You’re so sweet, you really are.” They look at each other for what feels like minutes. Arthur’s glances switch between her eyes and her lips. She steps towards him, her gaze never leaving his sweet smile. A knock on the bathroom door brings them both back down to earth. “Are you guys done? Sorry but I need a shit.” Chris’s voice is heard in the other side. The pair giggle before Arthur rolls his eyes and opens the door. He stands to the side to let y/n leave first but Chris barges in mumbling an apology. When the pair walk back out to the open living area, George is preparing breakfast. "Oh, there you two are," he smiles, "I'm just about to make some grub, would either of you like any?" Y/n politely shakes her head.

"I'm okay for now thank you, I should really head home and get out of this uniform before I stink the country up anymore!" She replies.

"I should go and shower too, do you want to share an Uber? I'll pay." Arthur offers.

"We can go halves." She grins back, then unzips the dog onesie places it on the sofa. As she does so, the smell of Arthur's aftershave mixed with a hint of beer breezes past her, a harsh reminder of just how much she fancies the man.

They head to where their shoes were discarded, preparing to leave. "Just so you know, you smell lovely." He whispers, his eyes then suddenly widening. "I mean- that sounded creepy- I just mean that you don't smell bad! You- you won't stink up the country!" He then blabbers, bringing his palm to his forehead with a disappointed grin.

"Thank you Arthur," she replies with a genuine tone and smile, letting him know that he's not a creep.

"Speaking of smell," Arthur starts, turning to face towards the bathroom, "Bye Chris, enjoy your shit!" A muffled 'fuck off' is heard retaliating from across the flat.

"Bye guys!" y/n adds on between laughs, she faces George "Please say bye to Hilly for me when he wakes up." George waves his spatula playfully, like a suburban wife waving out her husband.

"Good bye, loooove you!" He calls out in a soft, higher pitched voice.

The Uber doesn't take long at all to arrive outside the boys' building. Arthur rushes ahead of y/n, holding the door open for her. She bows her head as if to thank him and climbs in, Arthur following behind her. When y/n gives the driver her address, Arthur is shocked to realise that she only lives a 20 minute walk away from his place. With nothing but the hum of the car engine for a short while, Arthur breaks the silence. "You know, it's refreshing to meet someone who is just as nice in person as they seem in their videos."

Y/n is surprised by the sudden compliment. "Same goes to you," she replies, "and you really do go wild after only a couple of drinks." She then chuckles.

"You should give me your number, I'm sure Isaac, Italianbach, would love to have you as a guest on our Bach and Arthur podcast. We can set something up." Arthur cleverly tests the waters, still unsure if she likes him or is just super nice.

"Great idea!" Y/n chirps, holding her hand out for his phone. He passes it over and watches her type with a smirk. When she hands it back to him, he grins to himself we notices that she saved her name as:

'Y/n 🐶✉️'

"Very nice." He states, amused. Sending her a text immediately that makes her giggle:

'Woof woof 😉'

They talk amongst themselves about upcoming videos, y/n is excited to hear that Arthur plans on playing another Dress to Impress with the boys. Arthur notices that the driver is heading to his place first. "Do you want a coffee at mine, we can walk to yours after as it's basically just around the corner." He offers with a wholesome smile.

"I would love to, but I desperately want to have a shower before I see some of my friends this afternoon." She replies, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "Otherwise, coffee would be nice." Unfortunately for both of them, Arthur doesn't quite realise at the time that y/n is suggesting they go for coffee sometime, like a date.

Arthur only nods though, "That's fair enough. Well I'll text you about the podcast soon at least." He smiles, although if she were someone who knew him better, she'd notice the slight pensiveness behind his eyes. He wonders to himself whether she's actually busy or just rejecting him kindly. Though later that day when he follows her on Instagram, he'll see from her story that she was telling the truth.

As the Uber turns to Arthur's street and starts pulling over, Arthur gives y/n a tap on her leg. "Don't worry about paying me half by the way, it's my treat." He tells her, still wanting to be chivalrous as ever despite his self doubt.

"You don't have to, but thank you" y/n replies, feeling warmer than she did five seconds ago.

"I'm glad Chris invited you to pub golf, it was fantastic meeting you" Arthur states, words oozing in y/n's ears like warm honey, as he reaches out to shake her hand.

"You too Arthur, have a lovely day" She replies sweetly, taking his hand to shake it before boldly pulling him towards her and pecking his cheek, slightly catching the outer corner of his lips too. Arthur rushes to unbuckle his seatbelt and step out the car before y/n can notice his face turning scarlet. As the Uber pulls away, y/n turns to watch Arthur walk toward his building, noticing his hand is pressed to his cheek with a dopey smile on his face.

--------

Over the next few weeks, y/n and Arthur message each other animal facts and videos about dinosaurs and general science back and forth. They also plan her appearance on the podcast. One day, Arthur sends her a random Instagram post of a postman cuddling a puppy and adding 'it's us 🥹' to the message, making y/n go fuzzy inside.

When Chris uploads the pub golf video almost a whole month after filming it that fateful day. Y/n reads the comments with rosy cheeks, completely unaware that 'basically just around the corner', Arthur is sat on his computer chair doing the same.

Commenter 1: omg did you see the way Arthur looked at y/n????? ↳ Commenter 2: Fr fr he was smitten

Commenter 3: get y/n and Arthur in a team next time Chris

Commenter 4: y/nTV is going to happen I’m calling it now!!!!!!

Commenter 5: 23:37 chip says 'bros in love' DID ANYONE ELSE HEAR THAT ↳ Commenter 6: Right? That had to be about y/n!

Commenter 7: there's definitely some tension between y/n and arthur 😏😏 did you SEE that arm wrestle

Commenter 8: Y/N FREDERICK IS HAPPENING. feel free to come back to my comment in like 4 years time when they announce their wedding in a museum :)

--------

With both of them being too awkward to blatantly ask the other out or even admit their feelings, they continue their mix of friendship and flirtationship while their YouTube circle watches on in frustration. That's when Arthur Hill then decides to invite y/n to join him, Arthur TV, and George on a platform roulette video.

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

A/n: Here is part two! Thanks so much to everyone for their sweet reception of part one. I feel like this one wasn't as good, but please let me know still if you'd like a part 3! ♥ Tag: @ooostarwarsfandom501st - Gabby xo

#arthurtv #arthurtv fluff #arthurtv x reader #Arthur tv #Arthur tv fluff #Arthur tv x reader #Arthur frederick #Arthur Frederick x reader #Arthur Frederick fluff #George clarke #chrismd #Arthur hill #pub golf

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vroomvroomcircuit · 1 year ago

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Early Risers vs. Night Owls

(A/N): Special thank yous to @foreveralbon and @disneyprincemuke for helping me choose which drivers are morning people and which are more of night owls.

Summary: Some people are night owls, others are morning people. But there is another sort that some drivers learn to fear: Morning Monsters (it's the reader)

Pairings: (All platonic) daniel ricciardo x driver!reader, charles leclerc x driver!reader, carlos sainz x driver!reader, oscar piastry x driver!reader (max and lando get a guest starring)

Word count: 1.2k

🏎Masterlist🏎

________________________

It’s difficult, being a night person in a day people’s world. It really is. Especially when you are around morning loving human beings.

“Oh, don’t you look happy?” Carlos comments, when (Y/N) steps into the breakfast room. Coincidentally, several teams are accommodated in the same hotel during this race weekend.

As she lets herself fall in a seat at his table, the young female whispers an annoyed “Don’t”. “I wasn’t saying anything mean?” He genuinely questions. Is his English failing him again?

“Please, just stop talking. It’s only the ass crack of dawn, how can someone be so chatty?” (Y/N) puts her head onto the table, effectively stopping any further conversation with the Spaniard. He looks a little bit lost into his fruit bowl, not sure how to handle this situation adequately.

“Top of the morning, my sunshines,” a smiling Daniel Ricciardo strolls into the room. The happiness radiating from him reaches (Y/N) even through her closed eyes.

Just as Daniel arrives at their table, she gets up with the most sluggish motions a sober person can muster. “Coffee” is the only thing mumbled, answering to the confused looks around her.

Shortly after, she sits down again with a cup in her hands, not even bothering to try to follow the chatting between Daniel and Carlos. (Y/N) just stares into space, wondering where she went wrong in her life to have to sit in between two morning people. Surely, this is a punishment of some kind.

“Ok, what is up with you? You look like you are about to murder everyone in this room if someone just dares to breathe in the wrong direction,” Daniel observes. (Y/N) takes another sip from her coffee. “Because it’s true.”

Carlos can’t wrap his head around it. “But what happened to the sunshine-in-person-(Y/N)?” “How am I supposed to be a sunshine, when I’m barely a person at this moment?” Well, that is not a lie. She does look pretty rough. Not everyone can wake up and look perfect like Florence Pugh. Some people have to look more like Merida herself in the mornings.

“Why are you talking to this woman during the early hours?” Charles, who just entered the breakfast hall, fears for their lives. “Because this is what people do? They talk when they sit together?” Daniel is confused. What is so bad about making conversations?

Charles steps closer to their table and (Y/N) immediately latches onto him, burying her face into his stomach.

“Don’t you value your life? A tired (Y/N) in the morning needs quiet and some hugs.” The young woman mumbles something, making the Monegasque laugh. “Yes, and coffee. This is the recipe to get the sunshine person you know and love.”

Confused, the other two drivers blink. Did they miss the manual that came with the rookie?

“And you know all of this, because?” Carlos asks the question that popped up in both their heads. “Because (Y/N) and Arthur were together in F2 and he had been ‘chewed out by her like a pack of gum by a class of elementary schoolers’, his words, not mine. She is not all bark and no bite, isn’t that right?” (Y/N) nods, her head still buried into his front.

“Do you want to catch a ride to the paddock with me? I plan on leaving in five minutes.” (Y/N) nods again and quickly gathers her things before waving the other drivers goodbye.

The ride is filled with silence, Charles even leaves the radio turned off. This lets the female drive in and out of a state of half-asleep until they arrive at their destination. At the same time a certain papaya wearing aussie his own car not far away from Charles’ Ferrari.

“Oh, is it still too early?” He asks her with a small smile. Just like Arthur, Oscar is aware how much of a night owl (Y/N) is, having witnessed her outbursts first hand several times during his own career in F2.

The driver nods as she throws herself into his embrace. A tired (Y/N) turns into the most cuddly person. “Let’s get you a cup of coffee, can’t have you go around screaming at people. You will scare everyone off.”

Oscar is pretty much the only smiling person she tolerates in the morning. Whenever another human being dares just grinning in her direction during her own waking up phase, she is ready to jump their throats. But Oscar is different. He doesn't do it out of mocking or pitiness. He is genuinely happy and wants to show and share it. Also, he radiates a nice calm aura, which is the complete opposite to what she experiences during the days of a race weekend.

When Carlos passes (Y/N) by later, he walks up to her with caution, keeping his teammates' warning in mind, “Hey Carlos, have you heard the rumors about the newest Taylor Swift album? Do you think it will feature a song about Nando?”

The woman in front of him has nothing in common with the one he interacted with just an hour ago. She somehow even looks completely different from her. It’s the kind of freshness that doesn’t come with a shower.

“Uhm, no I did not. Are you ok? You seemed… a bit out of it this morning.” There is a hesitation in his voice, not wanting to accidentally offset her.

But (Y/N) just laughs it off. “Oh yeah, that. I’m sorry for being a grump back there. Just like Charlie said, I’m absolutely not a morning person. During the first hour of being awake I’m an absolute monster. Just, don’t talk to me or only when it’s absolutely necessary during that time. I apologize for my behavior, it wasn’t nice. Today was particularly bad, because I do my best work at night and I have been pouring over some data until 2 am. I’ll try to give you a warning next time!”

With that she is off, looking for her partner in crime aka her teammate to start some kind of mischief with the social media team.

Carlos is just flabbergasted. The duality of some people and how a small cup of caffeine can bring that out of them is astonishing.

Just remember to never fuck with night owls during the early hours of the morning.

Bonus Scene

During a free week some drivers set a date to play a private paddle tournament together in Monaco. Daniel enters the court with a big smile. After all, it is a fresh, sunny morning. This day is a promise of having a good time with his friends and colleagues, playing their favorite game and having lunch plans together.

What sets the Australian off are the three frowning faces, sitting on a bench nursing each a can of Red Bull solemnly. “What happened to you?”

Max answers his question first with a grumpy voice. “I had to leave my cats cuddled up in my bed alone.” “My alarm woke me up while the first number on the clock was still a single digit.” Landoo sounds about as tired as (Y/N) next to him looks like.

“Life”, Daniel answers for the young woman already, who just nods and pulls the strings of her hood closed, hindering someone else to make more conversations with her until the caffeine has kicked in.

Desperate times call for desperate measures after all.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x driver!reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x driver!reader #oscar piastry x reader #oscar piastry x driver!reader #x reader #x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 x driver!reader #x fem!reader #f1 fanfic #reader insert #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

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geneviveleocardius · 1 month ago

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arthur morgan romantic headcanons

but you both had a baby at a young age:

baby girl version

arthur swears he’s a tough man, but the second his baby girl grabs his finger or giggles at him, he melts and says, “well, ain’t you somethin’ special.”

the moment anyone so much as looks at her wrong, arthur’s voice gets low as he growls, “you got somethin’ to say about my girl?”

he calls her sweet little names like “darlin’,” “sugar,” or “princess,” his voice always softer than you’ve ever heard it when he talks to her.

arthur clumsily tries to braid her hair, muttering curses under his breath when it doesn’t work, but he keeps at it because he knows how much she loves it when he tries.

he loves pointing out animals and flowers to her, kneeling down to explain, “that’s a deer, little one. quiet now, don’t wanna scare it off.”

arthur makes up bedtime stories about cowboys and adventures, always with a brave little girl as the hero who saves the day, grinning when she asks for “just one more.”

when she starts toddling around in tiny cowboy boots he bought for her, he can’t stop smiling and says, “look at that—already ready for the range.”

he sits with her and lets her scribble in his journal, pointing to her messy drawings and saying, “that’s the best-lookin’ horse i’ve ever seen.”

arthur makes sure she knows how to be strong, but he always says, “you don’t need to be tough all the time, darlin’. you just be you.”

he loves to pick her up and spin her around, both of them laughing as he says, “you’re the best dance partner i ever had, but don't tell your mommy I said that.”

whenever one of her toys breaks, arthur’s quick to sit down with it, mumbling, “don’t you worry, i’ll have it good as new in no time.”

he cheers louder than anyone when she does something small, like saying her first word or learning to run, clapping his hands and exclaiming, “that’s my girl!”

as soon as she’s big enough, arthur has her sitting in front of him on his horse, holding the reins and saying, “you’re a natural, kiddo.”

when she’s scared, he kneels down, holding her tiny hands and saying, “ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you, not while i’m around."

arthur often tells you, “she’s gonna have better than what i had. i’ll make damn sure of that,” his voice full of quiet determination.

whenever she gets into mischief, she runs to arthur, and he chuckles before saying, “alright, but don’t tell your ma i helped you out.”

he jokes about how she’s already trying to “protect” him when she toddles up to him with her tiny hands on her hips, scolding him in her baby voice.

arthur hums quiet lullabies while holding her close, and even if the tune’s rough, it’s the most soothing sound in the world to her.

when he watches her sleep, arthur softly mutters to himself, “wonder what kinda woman she’ll grow up to be. hope she knows how proud i’ll always be of her."

she always runs to him, climbing into his lap no matter what he’s doing, and arthur grins, wrapping his arms around her and saying, “this is the best seat in the house.”

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

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immajustvibehere · 1 year ago

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Touch Starved Arthur x fem!touchy Reader

Pairing: hh!Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader (fluffly)

summary: 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.

warning: Mentioning of Micah's abuse, it's platonic now but maybe second part for some lover action if y'all want?

2400 words, about 10-13 minutes reading time

Arthur didn't understand how you could be so open, giggly, and affectionate with anyone in the gang but him. Your willingness to engage in physical touch made no difference of man, woman or child. He had started to observe your interactions with others more closely, ever since he had found out that they gave him a bitter feeling of jealousy. You held hands with the girls, play-wrestled with Jack, leaned into Hosea's hugs at the camp-fire or happily jumped on Sean's back for some piggyback rides. Even when talking to someone, you'd stand unusually close, a hand on the arm of whoever you were conversing with.

Everyone came to you with their problems, because they knew they could expect hugs or soft caressing. Your role as source of comfort and support within the gang was truly valued, but you weren't stupid or overly naive when it came to intimacy. When you found it not appreciated or uncomfortable, you'd soon let it be. After Micah had joined the gang, Arthur had kept a close eye on how you proceeded around him. For a couple of weeks, until he had settled in, you had kept your distance before approaching him. Arthur almost boiled when he saw how gently you rested your hand on his arm and he almost intervened when he saw Micah's prudish reaction of pulling you closer, groping you and asking if you were the camp's whore. After this encounter with Micah, you wisely chose to keep your distance.

Arthur wondered if he had done something wrong, but he coulnd’t remember any occasion where he would have abused your trust. You had been closer to him before, but it seemed a long time ago. You'd lean into him during story times or greet him with a hug after coming back from a big score…but eventually, it had stopped. Had he given an unintentional signal that he didn't want to be touched?

Those were Arthur’s thoughts as he sat opposite of you at the campfire. You were seated on the log which Javier used as backrest. You sat exactly behind him, your arm and head resting on his shoulder. Sometimes, Javier would snuggle his cheek against your arm. A lover's touch, Arthur thought. He wondered about certain situations that felt needlessly…loving. Keeping in mind that you weren't as restrained and conservative when it came to touches, he thought that some people tended to abuse that. Dutch, especially. You'd sit on his lap and while Arthur was sure your thoughts were naive and you'd just figured out that Dutch likes the attention and you saw nothing more behind it than similar physical intimacy you granted the others, Arthur was convinced that Dutch's thoughts weren't as pure. It was he who had picked you up from a saloon one day, praising your carefree and happy character, warning everyone to respect you. But when he pulled you onto his lap, Arthur swore it was a patronizing move with afterthoughts. Not that he thought either one of you would act upon it.

But it riled Arthur. You'd hold Lenny's hand when he had a bad day and even massage Uncle's back if he asked kindly enough…but Arthur had been ignored for a while now. Arthur had been starring at you and Javier, at your arm that rested so comfortably on him, but as Arthur's eyes wandered up with the intent of studying your face, he found you staring back at him. Slowly, you receded your arm and sat up straight, no longer in contact with the man in front of you. Arthur felt like you had caught him daydreaming. Then you nodded towards the outer rims of camp, standing up and signalling Arthur to follow. He waited a few moments and gave you a head start, before following you into the darkness, away from the group and the campfire.

Arthur had soon caught up with you, as you headed straight for the little patch of woods.

"What're ya up to?", he asked, watching you curiously as you made your way through the forest.

"Nothing specifically, will you join me for a walk though?", you invited with a kind smile.

"Sure. Ain't exactly safe to wander away from camp in the middle of the night", Arthur commented and stomped through the dry leaves on the ground, right at your side.

"How have you been recently?", you asked, your eyes trying to catch his.

"Jus' fine."

"Mh, don't you lie to me, Mr. Morgan. I can tell you have something on your mind."

"Yer that good at reading people?", Arthur said surprised.

You giggled: "Not particularly. But you always have something on your mind, so that wasn't a far-reaching guess."

"Suppose not", Arthur chuckled warmly.

"So?"

Arthur shrugged and caringly extended his arm for you to hold onto, as you climbed over a fallen dead tree. For a moment, he was very focused on your warm and soft hand that had a tight grip on his arm as you tried not to lose balance. Though as soon as the obstacle had been crossed, your touched ceased from his arm, only its memory remained a while longer.

"I don't like 'round here. The way we are foolin' with both of 'em families. I don't think it'll work out,” Arthur said truthfully, "Besides, I don't like the stifling weather."

"I understand", you answered. You never argued when someone was confiding in you, neither did you come up with solutions, if not requested. But you listened, and this was enough.

By now, you had crossed the woods and had reached the meadow with some old ruins of houses and fences. You strolled towards a wall barely higher than a log and watched as Arthur sat down on it. You stood in front of him, carefully inching closer between his legs. Then you reached out and fixed his collar: "Has been annoying me all night..."

Arthur blushed profusely at this domestic gesture, but you barely noticed as you sat down next to him.

"You saw Mary Linton back in Valentine, didn't you?"

"I did", Arthur admitted briefly.

"So tell me more! I bet it's been on your mind", you said.

"I don't know,” Arthur sighed, “I think I miss what we had, but I'm no idiot. It didn't work before, and it wouldn't work now… Maybe I am an idiot, 'cause I keep entertaining those thoughts."

"Why wouldn't it work?"

"Ain't the best time to go off and stay away from camp. There's always something happening, I'd feel like a fool if I pursued her. Besides, her daddy never liked me and that for sure didn't change."

"What would make you happy, though?", you asked and looked at him. Arthur looked you in the eye.

"I think I just miss having a woman by my side. Marston is a damn fool to behave so cold around Abigail and little Jack,” Arthur complained. His gaze wandered off in the distance, searching for a landmark to focus on.

"He'll come around eventually", you smiled, knowing a lot more about John's situation after he had confided in you only a few weeks prior.

"I hope. I just want him to do right by her and the boy,” Arthur said.

"There it is,” you smiled and bumped your legs into his, "big, bad outlaw – lovingly caring for his friend’s wife and kid."

"Yer a damn tease, don't know how they all flock to you talking about their problems", Arthur quipped, now bumping his shoulder into yours. To his surprise, you stayed leaned against it, sighing happily and watching as he lit himself a cigarette.

Suddenly, your hand now rested on his arm, very lovingly and gently.

"All of a sudden, huh?", Arthur commented.

"All of a sudden what?"

"The touchin' and listenin' and stuff. Thought you'd keep ignoring me."

"What? Ignoring you? I'm sorry if I gave you this impression...I thought you didn't like that with other people around."

Your hand had disappeared from his arm, which pained Arthur.

You were right, of course you were. Arthur wasn't too big of a fan of showing that he needed loving attention as much as anyone, but you had figured it out. And now he realised why you had stopped, because you always felt him tensing up, shutting down and avoiding your gaze when you initiated some intimacy.

"Oh", Arthur mouthed. Now he took your hand and placed it on his thigh, squeezing it lightly, "I'm a moron, Miss y/n. I didn't realize you had picked up on that."

You smiled, satisfied that you'd been right, and leaned your head against his shoulder.

"I feared I had said something improper to scare you away", Arthur admitted in a quiet voice.

Of course not, you thought, if anyone in the gang was as gentle, pure and seemes the revel in those little touches, it was Arthur. And it was rewarding to see him soak up those little attentions like a sponge.

"Then you're right about being a fool. You haven't done anything wrong, Arthur", you said and squeezed his hand to emphasize those words. Hearing his first name roll from your lips had something very comforting. Arthur felt right at home, though he was sitting in a field.

"Yer a good person", Arthur said, "I'm damn sure you're the person holding this gang together. We'd have crumbled if it wasn't for you."

"You're giving me too much credit. You work way harder to keep us on track", you admitted and snuggled your face on his shoulder. Your thumb was slowly stroking his arm, Arthur watched shyly how the finger disturbed the hair that was growing on his forearm.

He had forgotten how much he needed that.

You heard the shaky breath the man next to you took.

"'s it dumb that I enjoy that?"

"No. Not at all", you honestly answered.

"What's the most ridiculous thing you've ever done for one of the fellers?", Arthur asked, feeling slightly embarrassed about asking you for something, even though all it would have been is if he could wrap an arm around you. After all, you had initiated all touch.

"Mh, well Micah-"

"No that", Arthur scoffed, "Could have beaten this rat's head in when he called you names, but i felt like you could handle the situation."

"Yes, I had", you said, squeezing his arm.

"I meant more like...did any of the man ever request something funny?"

You giggled: "Oh, you'd be surprised. But I won't tell you. Their secrets are as save with me as yours would, so don't feel bad about asking. I've heard that I give brilliant head-massages."

"That so?", Arthur said.

But he kindly refused the offer to lie his head in your lap, but when he offered this service in return, he was surprised when you readily agreed. "Thought you'd never ask!"

With your head resting on his thigh and looking up into the night sky, you could feel his muscles flex and tense under the weight of your head. Arthur took a while until he relaxed, even longer until he leisurely started to play with strands of your hair. He was very gentle, barely daring to touch your head and only letting few strands of hair run through his fingers.

Arthur closed his eyes and could imagine things that he normally would never let himself indulge in. A family, a cabin out west, a wife and a kid. Boy or girl or both, it didn't matter. A time where he didn't have to worry about the law chasing him down. Maybe, also a dog.

Lost in thoughts and thinking about what could have been, Arthur lost sense of time. It was your voice that brought him back to reality after a while.

"Arthur, dear? I'm getting a little tired. Could we head back?", your voice was soft and whispery. It didn't quite shake him up from his dreams. It's as if his wife called him back inside. But of course, you weren't his wife. And there was no "inside", only back to camp, back to the others.

"Of course, sorry. I didn't want to keep ya from sleepin'", Arthur apologized and waited until you had risen, before standing up himself with a stifled groan.

"I enjoyed this a lot, you know", you admitted. Even though neither of you had spoken, you felt like you had been part of Arthur's imaginations. And maybe found some solace in the same little dreams that he had.

"Me too. Thank you", Arthur said, and still was surprised when you hugged him gently. He hesitated for a moment, before putting his hand in the small of your back. Arthur felt good. It was a feeling that he hadn’t felt in a while. Having confided in you, the intimacy…there was this warm sensation in his chest. It had been a energizing experience, to say the least, dreaming without being judged.

You walked back with your arm intertwined with Arthur's. So not to "trip" on branches in the darkness, but also because it felt right. Arthur didn't dare to ask if that could become a regular thing. You only said good night when you had reached camp and he watched as you walked off to your bedroll.

Something had changed though, because the hugs after coming back from a long day of robbing and killing came back. Suddenly, when you handed him a plate of stew, your fingers would briefly touch. Whenever you found the opportunity, and Arthur gave you plenty, you fixed his collar or suspenders. With time, he lost the hesitation and would pull you closer when you were busy with dusting off his shirt.

Yet, you were occupied most of the nights. Arthur would see you at the jetty, talking with Lenny or deep in concentration while playing a game of Dominoes with Bill. You’d help Kieran with the horses and most of all, you’d always take time for Jack. It was you that put Jack to bed most nights, Abigail exchanged a few words with Arthur one morning on what a great help you’d been. From this point onwards, Arthur loved watching from a distance when you interacted with Jack. Slowly, an idea started to form. Maybe, if he worked up the courage, he could ask you to spend a night or two away from camp. Take Jack with them, as a kind gesture towards Abigail and to give the boy some distraction from his daily life in camp. Hell, you spent more time with him than John did anyways, and Arthur doubted that Abigail would have trouble entrusting you with him for a few nights. But it involved asking you…out, sort of. It wasn’t such a selfless action, though Jack would benefit, Arthur craved some time with you alone. And Arthur wasn’t sure if asking for this was overstepping a line.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Second part with Arthur taking out reader and Jack? Anyone interested? Wanna be tagged?

Second Part here!

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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grymghoul · 9 months ago

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It didn't take long for you to find out that teasing ARTHUR MORGAN was fun. Batting your lashes at him is one thing.. you take it to a whole other level. The moment there's no eyes on you two, your palm is pressed to the front of his pants. You can trace the outline of his cock and you won't stop until you can feel every vein and ridge. Until his head is neatly outlined against the inside of his right thigh. Then you scoot off to do something else, smiling in self satisfaction. Sometimes, when he's journaling or otherwise distracted, you'll sneak between his thighs. Not really sneak, he's all too aware of your presence and the almost nuisance like quality you contain. Hell, his hand even rests on the crown of your head, a subconscious tic. However, it always jolts him when he feels your hot mouth on him from outside his pants. He'll shift his hips, as if asking nicely for you to not tease him this time. It's like you're trying to suck on him from outside of his jeans. He can be a proud man, but he's not too proud to admit he's almost cum from that alone. You can be absolutely torturous to the poor man. He'll bite his bottom lip, try to go back to journaling or reading, he'll tug at your hair. None of it deters you. Especially the hair tugging, seeing him squirm and be too much of a gentleman to tell you to stop unless you plan to choke on his cock. Some of the things he can be teased with are so simple, it's nearly laughable. When you tug him by his belt, the bandana around his neck, even tugging on a singular button of his shirt gets him going. Just enough for his dick to twitch. The worst part? You always choose times where he can't just have you. He can't just pull you into bed and fuck the teasing right out of your silly brain. He can't just shove you face first into the mattress and egg you on for as long as he wants, ignoring your whimpers and sobs. Partially because he's not entirely a degenerate, the other part is that canvas tents aren't really sound proof. He makes a whole elaborate show of getting you back. A nice (as nice as it can get) dinner, something fun like dancing, and a room for the night. Complete with a bath. He's sure to space it out between your teases and his nights out with you that you remain unsuspecting. But the second he's got you well fed and pampered and entertained (so you can't cause him anymore grief), he's on you. Deep kisses and wandering hands, slowly your clothes fall off. Before you realize it, he's got you crying out into your pillow, make up all ruined (he insisted you dress nice for this outing, he really just wanted your face to stain even more hotel pillows). He thought he was so clever. That you'd never catch on. That you'd always be in the dark. He never stopped to wonder why you insisted on teasing him so much.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan smut #c: arthur morgan

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chaostudee · 6 months ago

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meeting the family, charles leclerc

summary : you are nervous about meeting charles's family but you feel at ease once they welcome you with open arms. warnings : none words :

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

charles gave your hand a small squeeze, soothingly rubbing his thumb over your palm as he pulled the car up into the drive. you had charles had now been dating for a year and you both had finally agreed that it was time for you to meet his family. although you were nervous about making a bad first impression you were excited to meet charles's favourite people.

"you okay?" he asked as he brings his hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. he could sense your nervousness.

"what if they don't like me....." you mumble, your inner thoughts being voiced.

charles sighs as he wishes that you could see yourself that he sees you. "i know that you don't believe me but they will love you i promise and even if they don't i love you and that is all that matters"

he places a small kiss onto your hand and you can't help but smile at him. in everyway he was perfect every time he touched you, you couldn't restrain the butterflies that emerged in your stomach.

"you always say the right words" you confess as you place a tender kiss on his lips, one that he greets with a smile.

a few moments later he pulls away.

"you ready?"

this time you nod confidently because now with charles by your side you felt much more relaxed.

charles hops out of the car and he gestures for you to wait as he walks around the opposite side to open your door for you. he grasps your hand as he helps you out of the car.

his childhood home made you gasp in awe. the garden was adorned with ferns and countless flowers and ivy creeped up the walls of the building. you turn to smile at him as you both walk up to the front porch.

charles knocks on the door, taking your hand and giving it one final squeeze.

"i love you" he mouths to which you reciprocate those words.

his mother is the one who opens the door and is immediately take aback by the sight in front of her.

"oh charles come here mon coeur" she gestures for him to give her a hug as she invites him in with open arms. "i missed you maman" he admits as he rests his head on her shoulder. she pats a hand on his back in comfort and then looks up to find you standing there awkwardly.

she pulls away from charles and smiles at you.

"and you must be y/n, god charles won't shut up about you whenever we call". you smile once hearing that and can't help but giggle when you see charles blush at his mothers words.

"come here my dear so good to finally meet you" she also invites you in for a hug which makes you feel simply at ease and when you notice charles give you a thumbs up all the anxieties fade away.

once you pull away from the embrace pascale closes the door and encourages you to come inside to the dining room.

"sorry charles but lorenzo said he couldn't make it because he is working or something but arthur is around here somewhere" pascale looks around, wondering where her son has gone off to.

"don't worry about it mother im just grateful for you for organizing this" he places a kiss on both sides of his mothers cheeks in gratitude.

arthur comes running in and stops in his tracks when he sees you. "omg charles is this y/n" he asks pointing to you.

charles responds nodding proudly at you.

"its so great to finally meet the girl who made this idiot fall madly in love like omg all he talks about is y/n this or y/n that like im so surprised that he hasn't proposed yet". arthur chuckles at his words but you were deep in your own thoughts. did charles actually want to propose to you.

what brings you out of your thoughts is charles hand slipping into your own. "c'mon baby let's sit down".

pascale and arthur join you. arthur sits across from you, pascale beside you and charles on the other side.

charles holds your hand in his lap as he catches up with his family, you listening intently, watching as his dimples showed whenever he smiled. you couldn't stop the blush creeping across your cheeks.

"so y/n tell me about you what do u do for work?" pascale asks as she takes a sip of her wine.

you hesitate and clear your throat before speaking. "well i've just finished medical school and now im looking for a nursing job in monaco so me and charles can be together when he's home". you turn to look at charles and he rubs your cheek comfortingly.

"she forgot to mention that she attended harvard" charles added never failing to voice your accomplishments.

"wow y/n im impressed" pascale reponds smiling at you and taking your hand. "i also have to thank you for taking such good care of my son and making him happy, i havent seen him smile this much in years".

you place your hand on top of hers. "it helps that i love your son very much and that his mother raised him right".

charles smiles at the scene before him, his girlfriend and mother bonding but he is brought away by a glipmse of arthur in the corner of his eye. arthur is holding up the left hand and pointing to wedding finger to which charles just rolls his eyes at him. truthfully he had been thinking about it and he was actually going to casually bring it up to get your thoughts about it.

after dinner had ended charles had offered to clean up, along with you also. you and charles had come up with a system. charles washes and you dry. as charles hands you a dirty dish you notice him give you a cheeky grin.

"why are you smiling at me like that?" you giggle as you bring the cloth to dry the plate.

charles stops scrubbing and pauses. "i'm just happy that tonight went well, my mum really likes you".

"i'm happy too"

charles sighs in relief. "i told you it would all work out".

he places a kiss to your forehead before returning to the dirty dishes.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

pascale pulls you and charles in for one last embrace and you both earn a wave from arthur as you both exit the house.

"take care you two" pascale calls out as you and charles walk down the steps to the car.

"you too" you call back giving one last wave before charles helps you into the car.

once charles had hopped in he started the car and you were off. you couldn't keep your eyes off him as he turned the wheel and moved the gearstick. in noticing that he took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips.

maintaining his eyes on the road he speaks. "you know i love you right?"

you chuckle because anyone who had eyes could see that it was blatantly obvious. "i know and i love you too"

charles smiles to himself. he briefly flicks his eyes to you. "i'm going to marry you someday"

it was like all the breath left your lungs when he says those words. but those words excited you.

"pls say something" charles urges unsure if what he had said upset you.

"charles from the minute i saw you i knew i was going to marry you".

charles bites his lip before placing a hand on your thigh.

in this moment there was nothing that could make you happier than you are now. with your boyfriend beside you and a hopeful future ahead you couldn't wait to see what was in store for you.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles lecrelc #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smau #formula one #formula 1

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bonesxbows · 22 days ago

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Infection (Arthur Nightingale X Reader)

My Masterlist

You can't get sick...right? You're a child of the void, immune to simple bacterial viruses. But yet when you pull into the Mall's garage one day, head throbbing and body aching, you can't help but wonder if that's actually true. To make matters even worse you've been so busy running errands and missions for the Hex that you haven't been keeping an eye on the calendar; it's closer to the end of the time loop than you thought. Arthur's the first to remind you, and the first to notice your change in health.

(WARNINGS) - Graphic Descriptions of Flu like symptoms - Female Drifter (she/her pronouns used)

Guess who got sick right before new years eve and wrote this as a way to make themselves feel better because they're missing out on all the fun parties

I'm still getting a grasp on Arthur's character and I also wrote this while extremely sick so sorry for any mistakes/out-of-character moments

Banners by @strangergraphics

The mission had gone as usual, no kinks or hiccups, smooth sailing as you and your squad mowed down techrot hoard after hoard, the smell of burnt acid and chitin-filled technological carapaces burying the under levels of the old mall. But at some point, your trigger finger began to lag, your steps became staggered and you could feel phantom sweat coat your forehead from within the safety of your warframe. You were falling behind. They wouldn’t leave you, but they wouldn't wait for you either. So you forced your feet to keep moving, willing the energy to keep flowing through your warframe to fend off the techrot surrounding you. By the time you made it back to the garage, you wanted to collapse.

You left your frame next to your atomicycle, not having the energy to pilot the suit even another step. The bundle of supplies you had brought back for the Hex felt like a bag of concrete on your shoulder, threatening to topple you over as your knees screamed in protest, your muscles aching right down to your bones. You were so ready to just trudge up to the backroom and fall into the nearest couch you could find. Luckily, by some small grace, help had arrived. You heard the sliding doors that separated the garage from the rest of the mall glide open, metallic footsteps clicking against the tile floor.

“You’re not usually gone this long. Everything go alright?” You heard him ask, his accent coating over the forming headache in the back of your mind like warm drizzled honey.

You sighed. You didn’t want to snap at him, but you were in so. Much. Pain. Standing on your feet physically hurt. “Everything went fine, Arthur. Can you take these and distribute them, please? I need to...lie down. For a moment.” You kept your voice sweet and plastered a soft smile on your face as you handed the bag of supplies in his direction. He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he studied you. He knew you; ever since you had first arrived you never stopped, never slowed down, always bouncing to the next mission or next bounty, so why now, of all times, were you stopping to take a rest? There was something off, but it was so hard to tell with you. You weren’t built like him, or like he used to be anyway, you weren’t exactly human. He couldn’t read you like he could other people.

“Are you…feeling alright, love?” He took the bag from you, lessening the weight on your body, and immediately you sighed in relief. Your eyes flickered to the door, eager to book it towards the backroom now that you were free from your last responsibility and could finally crash, but Arthur stood in your way, and it was clear he had no intention of moving until you answered his question.

“I’m fine, really. I’m immune to everything, remember? Child of the void and all that. I’m just tired. After some sleep I’ll be right back to normal, promise. You worry too much.” You spoke quickly and then kissed him on the cheek, getting a satisfactory answer out as fast as possible and leaving him no room to argue as you dashed off towards the door. Hopefully, he wouldn’t chase you down so you could actually take that nap you so desperately wanted.

You made it to the backroom in record time, flopping face-first onto the nearest soft surface you could find and passing out as soon as your head made contact.

It wasn’t long though before you woke up retching, a wet cough rattling your chest and scratching your throat on the way out. You groaned, sitting up and leaning back against the back of the couch. You blinked against the lights above you, pulling the blanket that covered your arms up over your head…which definitely hadn’t been there when you had fallen asleep. You poked an eye out, looking around the room, but no one else was there with you. Well, no other people. Your eyes landed on your kubrow who had snuggled up next to the foot of the couch nearest you, curled into a ball, a note laid next to their feet. You reached down to pick it up, scritching their fur as a reward for safeguarding the note for you when you did so. They sighed contently in response.

The white of the paper was blinding to your straining eyes, your headache having only increased from earlier, and his fancy scrawled handwriting didn’t help -you figured it had to be a Britannic thing, Eleanor wrote the same way-, but you managed to decode the note.

You looked cold. Text me when you wake up, team’s taken off the rest of today. I’m all yours. -A

You couldn’t help but smile underneath your little blanket cocoon. It took an extraordinary amount of effort but you stood up, your knees wobbled and your back ached but you willed yourself to stay upright, stumbling your way over to your POM-2 PC. You pushed the on button, the screen flickering to life, making you outwardly hiss as the blue light assaulted your eyes and shot to the very back of your skull like a laser. But you pushed forward, ignoring the pain, and clicked on Arthur’s chatbox.

Hey, A <3

Broadsword is typing…

You’re awake. I take it you got my note then?

I did. Something special going on I don’t know about? You never let the team take days off.

Broadsword is typing…

Check your calendar, love.

Broadsword has gone offline.

You squinted in confusion, a small flash of panic grabbing hold of your heart. Had you forgotten something important? You clicked off of the chat page and onto the built-in calendar with the PC, the boxes flashing onto the screen. They were all greyed out, you had reached the end of another month, nothing special there. But then you saw it. December on the top of the screen. December 31st. Today was the end of the time loop. New Year’s Eve.

Metallic footsteps sounded off of the wooden floorboards behind you. You were still facing the PC, dumbstruck by your discovery, nothing but a mass of blanket from his point of view. He came up behind you and snaked his hands around your waist, slotting his head into the crook of your neck, though he was met with a mess of fluffy blanket instead of your warm skin. His eyes flicked between your face and the PC’s screen still brought up on the greyed-out calendar. “Figure out what today is, then?” He whispered.

You leaned back into Arthur’s chest, the heat radiating off of his warframe a welcoming comfort through your blanket.“I didn’t realize.” You spoke, answering his question, but yet you didn’t recognize your own voice. Your eyes widened at the unexpected sound, a hoarse croaking noise as the words scratched out of your throat. Arthur pulled his head away from your shoulder and spun you around as soon as he heard it too, forcing you to face him, his hands now on your shoulders and a concerned look on his face as his brow furrowed. A chill ran over your body at the abrupt removal of his warmth from your back, causing you to shiver, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. He was looking over you, studying you. You pulled the blanket closer around you, becoming sheepish under his gaze. He took in everything he hadn’t noticed before in addition to your recent shiver and scratchy voice; the way your eyes seemed to sink into your face surrounded by dark circles, the unusual dullness in your complexion, and the way both your shoulders and your spine seemed to slump towards the floor as if the weight of a million bricks rested upon you.

A small smirk crawled over his face, his assumptions from earlier now being undeniably confirmed. “So, ‘child of the void that’s immune to everything’ huh?”

You sniffled, sticking your nose into the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice scratched out like a destroyed record, the words catching in your throat and making you hack and cough, breaking whatever semblance of composure you were trying to feign. You brought your elbow up to your face to catch the cough, the fuzzy blanket encompassing everything as you moved. Arthur carefully dug his fingers into the muscles of your shoulders and neck as you coughed and retched up the fluid in your lungs, the gentle pressure a soothing distraction from the pain coating your throat with every new breath you took. Eventually, you stopped, now looking exhausted from the effort, and you couldn’t help but collapse against his chest, your head finding the crook of his neck. Your breathing became ragged against the metal platings and exo-flesh of his neck, though he couldn’t feel it the sound of it alone made concern worm its way to his heart. He didn’t think about it often, he didn’t want to unless he had to, honestly; but moments like this were blatant reminders of just how fragile you were compared to him. He sighed and curled his arms around you, holding you against him and running his hands up and down your back comfortingly. “Hm. Sounds to me like you’re sick, if I had to guess.”

“Ugh.” Was all you could muster for a response, the sound reverberated through your chest instead of your already painful throat. He reached down and hooked his hands under your thighs, pulling you up and bundling you into his arms so he could carry you. You made no protest to his actions, immediately wrapping your legs and arms around his torso, albeit weakly. He carried you back over to the couch, settling down with you in his lap, the blanket not forgotten about and cocooned around your shoulders. You huddled into the warmth radiating off of his mechanical body as another shiver crawled over your spine, causing you to shake. He let his hands roam your back absentmindedly, working his fingers against your muscles gently and every so often letting one of them wander upwards towards your hair, carding his fingers through the strands soothingly.

Though the quiet moment didn’t last for long as his ears twitched, picking up the sound of footsteps coming up the metal staircase that separated your living space from your workshop. He instinctively tensed, his eyes whipping to the doorway as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, ready to protect you at a second's notice. The mall was a safe zone, he knew that in the back of his mind, but he always prepared for the worst. The need to protect you, especially now given how weak you were in your current state, greatly outweighed any rationality to his thoughts. You were oblivious to everything happening, your eyes long since being closed ever since he had sat down with you.

“You two are adorable.” He heard in his head, his guard dropping as he saw both his sister and Aoi poke around the corner. She had been listening when his instincts had kicked in.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you two knock?”

“Don’t you two answer your comms?” He heard in his head again, a teasing smile on Eleanor’s face.

“Didn’t hear them go off. Sorry.” He explained.

“You, not paying attention to your comms? What’s got you so sidetracked?” Aoi retorted, though her face showed she was teasing as well. Eleanor, however, had already found the answer to Aoi’s question. Her face fell when she saw you clinging onto Arthur’s chest, your breathing harsh and unnatural and your hair plastered to your forehead by sweat. She knelt down in front of him, studying you for signs of something she had long since forgotten even existed.

“Is she sick?” She asked him telepathically.

Aoi had also heard the question, catching up on the details laid out before her. She sat down on the other side of the couch, her brow furrowing and a small frown adorning her lips. “Can she even get sick?”

“Apparently,” Eleanor answered in their minds, half sarcastically. “Is there anything we can do?”

“What could we do? We don’t have a cure, she’s in no condition to go back to her time and retrieve one, that’s even if they’ve discovered one.” He ran through options in his head, none of them seeming feasible.

“So…what? We just let it run its course? She seems…miserable.” Aoi’s voice was laced with sympathy. You had done so much for them, it felt awful not being able to help you in return.

“I don’t think we have any other choice, unfortunately.” They could hear the pang of guilt in Eleanor’s words as they echoed in their heads, her lips parting in a regretful sigh as she stood up.

“What did you two stop by here for, anyway?” He asked, his eyes flicking to you as you shifted in his arms, but you were still fast asleep.

“We were going to gather in the commons to celebrate the countdown, you know, since we avoided annihilation and all that this year, we figured why not, and we were going to ask if you and Drifter wanted to join us, but…” Aoi explained, her voice trailing off towards the end as her eyes landed on the bundle of blanket that was you in Arthur’s lap.

“I doubt she’d feel up to a party and I’d rather not leave her here alone, so if it’s all the same to you lot I think I’ll stay here with her for the night.” Both women gave him looks of understanding to his reply, but as soon as Arthur had answered your eyes fluttered open and your head shot up, instantly causing you to go dizzy from your sudden movement and you had to place a hand against his chest to stabilize yourself. But that didn’t stop you.

“No, Arthur, you should go.” You looked at him, your words croaking out just the same as they had before, startling the two women who hadn’t heard the severity of your sickness yet.

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” He retorted, brown and white eyes burrowing into yours. He knew it was selfish to argue with you when you were less than healthy, you stood no chance at winning, but he didn’t care. Not when it came to looking after you.

Eleanor and Aoi took that as their cue to leave before the conversation got any more heated. “If you do decide to join us, you know where you can find us,” Aoi told the two of you before standing up and making way for the door.

“Take care of her,” Eleanor told her brother inside of his head, a message only he could hear, as she followed Aoi out.

You waited until you heard the familiar click of the backroom door shutting before trying to bicker with the man in front of you. “You deserve to celebrate.” You told him, fighting against the hoarseness in your throat to get your point across.

“And you don’t? We'd still be dead on the floor of that reactor room if you hadn’t intervened. I won’t leave you here to celebrate alone if I have a say about it.” He brushed the sweat-stricken hair off of your forehead as he spoke.

You huffed, the noise sounding more like a wheeze. “You’re stubborn, Nightingale.” You wanted to cross your arms, to pout, to argue back and force him to spend time with his friends instead of wasting his night away in a stuffy old room. But you barely had enough energy to keep your head up as it was.

He couldn’t help but laugh, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “So I’ve been told.”

You didn’t remember falling back asleep, or even when you had laid your head back down onto Arthur’s shoulder, but the next thing you knew he was gently squeezing your hand, trying to wake you. You stirred for a moment, your eyelids fluttering as you came back to reality. “Wake up, love.” You heard him whisper into your ear. But it was then that all of the pain came flooding back, hitting you all at once. You groaned, feeling the stiffness in your bones and the aches throbbing in your muscles. Though you were grateful that your headache had at least subsided, you discovered that your throat still felt like sandpaper every time you swallowed, causing you to wince from the pain. You slowly raised your head up, coming face to face with Arthur. He had a small smile stuck on his face and you were caught off guard when he tilted his head and kissed you, his lips gentle against yours, as if too much pressure would shatter you like glass. You quickly leaned into it though, weakly wrapping an arm around his neck and inwardly smiling as you felt his hair tickle your cheekbones. He pulled away far too soon for your liking. “Happy New Year, love.”

You blinked in confusion for a moment before turning your head towards your POM-2; sure enough, the usual black screen was now flashing big green numbers, “00:00”. The loop had been completed. Soon it would all start again. Whether or not Arthur would still be there with you come morning was now a decision left in your hands.

#my writings #warframe #arthur warframe #arthur nightingale #arthur nightingale x reader #warframe 1999 #warframe x reader

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hollowed-theory-hall · 11 months ago

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The Weasleys Aren't Great Parents...

I know a lot here love to talk about how the Weasleys were so good to take Harry in and all that... But the truth is, the parenting skills of Molly and Arthur Weasley are questionable at best.

I'm not saying they don't love their kids and Harry — they do, and they do so honestly. I'm just here to say they aren't actually a good example of parenting.

Like, when fans talk about the Weasleys what I usually see is either treating them like they are a perfect example of a family or unfair bashing. So, while I definitely believe that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love their kids, this post showcases where their parenting skills are lacking...

So, the Weasleys, to Harry, seem like the perfect example of a happy, loving family. Now, I'm not saying there isn't love there, but the family dynamics we see aren't great, to put it lightly. Harry just has no reference for anything better.

Children Running Away

The first thing I want to mention here is that all Weasley children leave the Burrow and their parents the first chance they get.

Bill goes to work for Gringotts in Egypt.

Charlie goes to tame dragons in Romania.

Percy, well, Percy is a whole can of worms right there. But once his parents shun him for being more successful than his father in the ministry, he doesn't look back.

Fred and George leave Hogwarts in the middle of their seventh year and move out of home then, before their even done with school.

I don't think that's normal. This is what we see in houses where there is mistreatment of children, so they don't want to stay any moment longer than necessary. Because all of this, what all of them did, was running away from home.

Each of these Weasleys was seventeen — maybe eighteen when he chose to leave (sometimes the country). This is running away, even if they still talk to their parents, they did rub away from living under the same roof.

This already suggests to me something unhealthy is going on there.

favoritism

Any child psychologist would tell you one of the worst things a parent could do is pick favorites amongst their children. All children, favored or not, suffer from it.

And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley.... well, they showcase favoritism constantly, here is an example from Order of the Phoenix:

“Get him red and gold to match his badge,” said George, smirking. “Match his what?” said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile. “His badge,” said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.” Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley’s preoccupation about pajamas. “His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re not. . . ?” Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!” “What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?” said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 163)

Molly is so glad to have prefects in the family, that she actually ignores the fact Fred and George aren't prefects and are her kids. George actually calls her out on it, except she isn't actually listening to him l. No, she pushes him aside. This treatment is insane, and I don't blame them for up and leaving the moment they turned seventeen.

This favoritism is seen more, this is from Chamber of Secrets:

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —” All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” “Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred. “YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —” It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. “I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. “Come in and have some breakfast.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 38)

Prefect Percy is better than Fred and George and they should learn from him and be more like him, according to Mrs. Weasley. This sort of comparison between children is really harmful to their development and is frowned upon by most. Definitely by me.

Not to mention how Harry is definitely a favorite of hers, so much so he does not get shouted at for the same crime, but get's food. That is honestly the bare minimum she can do for him considering...

Harry's Abuse

The Weasleys are aware of Harry's abuse. They are made aware of it time and time again, and with all their love for Harry — they do nothing more than give him food when he asks. I don't think I need to explain why this is terrible.

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —” She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. “It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.“They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

George here outright tells her Harry was being starved — this goes ignored. When Harry writes to her to send him food, she sends it, but doesn't ask him why he isn't being fed:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

No, she sent him food but didn't bother doing anything to help a child out of a clearly abusive situation. Not even asking why he isn't getting enough food.

Arthur Weasley isn't any better. He knows just as much as Molly and even met Harry's pleasant relatives:

“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?” “It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 48)

He acts as if the Dursleys are normal. As if a child saying their caretakers wouldn't care he wasn't there isn't cause for alarm. No, Arthur Weasley just thought it impolite and odd, but not enough to actually do something to help Harry. Just annoy Uncle Vernon.

Blaming Kids For Things Not Their Fault

“You?” she said, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy little willow-patterned legs and replacing it in front of her. “Why should I be worried about you?” “When Mum’s next letter finally gets through Umbridge’s screening process,” said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, “I’m going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sent a Howler again.” “But —” “It’ll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,” said Ron darkly. “She’ll say I should’ve stopped them leaving, I should’ve grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something. . . . Yeah, it’ll be all my fault. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 679)

After Fred and George leave Hogwarts, Ron tells Hermione she should worry about him because he would suffer their mother's ire. He speaks about it as if it's a regular occurrence. Like he regularly gets blamed for Feed and George's mishaps when the twins aren't there.

This is incredibly unfair to Ron, Fred, and George. There is no reason Ron should fear his parent's response for something he had no control over.

Conclusions

As I stated above, I don't think Arthur and Molly Weasley are abusive or neglectful or that they don't love their kids. They are far from perfect, loving, and dotting parents I see them sometimes portrayed as. Neither are they as awful as I sometimes see them. Like many characters in this series, they are more complex than that.

#harry potter #harry potter theory #harry potter thoughts #hollowedtheory #hp theory #overthinking #wizarding world #harry potter analysis #molly weasley #arthur weasley #the weasleys #the weasly twins #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #percy weasley

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zae-heeyyy · 7 months ago

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Erudition

Summary: Arthur teaches you how to read. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,790 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: I spent an unnecessary amount of time perfecting this one. Tried my hand at sketching/tracing/cut and pasting pieces of Arthur's original journal to make this one (don't look at it too close lol). Hope you enjoy!

Edit: If you didn’t know, it was common for adults to be illiterate in 1899 due to the lack of widespread public education.

erudition: the quality of having or showing great knowledge or learning; scholarship.

Poor Hosea had tried everything in an effort to teach you how to read: encouraging you with kind words first, then employing tough love tactics when your stubbornness hindered your progress. On one particular day, you had enough of each other. In a rare moment of weakness, he slammed his hand on the table when you refused to try.

"Wanna be an illiterate ninny your whole life, do ya?" A scowl etched deep lines on his face, and you stormed off, not saying a word. A cough riddled him, and he bowed his head in part frustration and part regret for letting himself lose his temper with you. He only wanted the best for you, even if you didn't want it for yourself.

A particular contemplative cowboy had been watching a short distance away, a pattern Hosea had noticed lately. Still coughing, he waved him over.

"Ah, Arthur. I know you're smarter than you look. Maybe you can reach that girl. I've done all I can, I fear." He pressed the book into Arthur's hand in more of a silent demand than a request. Arthur nodded in understanding, sighing, wondering how he'd been demoted from gang enforcer to teacher.

Cursing under your breath, you prayed that Arthur would just walk away, not because you didn't like him, but because you liked him too much. You and the other women got a kick out of watching him do chores around camp, his shirt nowhere to be found. He was damn gorgeous and didn't have a clue. Nobody else had a clue, either, that you wanted him. You wanted him in many ways and cared about what he thought of you.

The hope that he'd refuse Hosea's request or come another time fell short when his figure towered over you, shading you from the high noon sun. You kept your head bowed, refusing to meet his gaze until he tapped the book's hardback cover, bidding for your attention. Your eyes met his sheepishly. Reading him did not come easy either, especially in your interactions. Something about the way he carried himself around you left you feeling unsettled. There was a perpetual tension that he seemed to shed in the company of anyone but you. You didn't quite get it, though, because he always remained gentlemanly despite it all.

"C'mon." A sculpted, outstretched arm reached down to you, and you took it reluctantly, letting him lift you up from your spot. Following close behind, you let him lead you to the outskirts of camp near a boulder and a broken wagon. The cacophony of camp faded away as you joined him on the ground, your backs against the rock. You sat expectantly, concentrating on your fidgeting hands and fighting off the urge to cry.

"You just gotta focus," he said, opening the book to where you last left off and putting it back in your hands. Shaking your head, you tried to blink away hot tears building up behind your eyes.

"Don't want you to think less of me, Arthur. Don't wanna do it." Keeping your voice steady and suppressing the lump in your throat proved increasingly futile.

"Hush and focus." His tone only made the mystery of him hazier. How could he so easily switch between evil debt collector, out for blood, to nothing short of a gentle giant, so comforting and protective? The thought only made your vision cloud up more.

Blinking rapidly, you took a deep breath to calm yourself before reading the words on the page aloud. You could only get through the first sentence before your voice betrayed you, shaking unevenly, accompanied by a saline drop rolling down your face and onto the page.

"Hey..." Arthur clutched your chin and turned it to face him, forcing your eyes to heed his. "You gotta stick at things. I know it's hard, but that ain't no reason to cry about it." A rough thumb wiped away your tears. He scooted closer to you, wrapped one arm around your shoulders, and held the book with the other hand. "Just relax. It's just me and you out here. I ain't gonna think less of you or let anybody else, for that matter. Forget about all that." You held one side of the book with your left hand, and he had the other with his right, " Here, start again, slow now."

Goosebumps prickled your skin as a wave of calm washed over you. Arthur stayed patient while you composed yourself and read through twice, the second time outshining the first. He nudged you with his elbow, flashing a toothy grin. "See? Not so bad," he remarked. With another breath, not as shaky as your other ones, you closed the book and returned it to him, feeling more accomplished than you had in a while.

Now that your attention wasn't being spent so much, the pounding in your ears grew louder, the source of the sound leading to none other than the relentless beating of your heart. The musk of tobacco and leather infiltrated your nose, making you suddenly aware of how close you were to him. He removed this arm from your shoulders, the missing weight of it making you feel unexpectedly empty. Before he could scoot away some more, you turned to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Arthur, for helping me. I know I'm not easy to work with." He smiled shyly and dipped his head, avoiding eye contact. A silence fell between you, and you spoke again, dismissing yourself. "I should probably get back to it." You gathered your skirts to stand, and he wrapped his fingers around your wrist before you could walk away. Even though crimson had crept up in his ears and neck, he kept his face impassive as always.

"When Ms. Grimshaw can spare you, come find me, and we'll keep at it."

So you did. You'd meet in the clearing behind the rock on the rare moments of shared free time, continuing the routine, and you were getting better every day. Then, Arthur brought you a mystery book that he'd found or stolen, and it was nothing like a Penny Dreadful, too complex and challenging for you to decode. You felt like you'd taken one step forward and two steps back.

And just like you'd done with Hosea a few days ago, you tried to storm away from Arthur. You didn't get far before his hands were on your hips, dragging you down into his lap. Faces inches apart, his hot breath warmed your face as he spoke, eyes stern.

"You can't just throw a tantrum whenever life gets hard, woman." Huffing in defiance, you opened your mouth to argue, but you closed it promptly, keenly aware of the change in his demeanor. Your eyes were on his, but his were on your lips. He licked his own, face set with resolve. Letting his forehead press against yours, he kissed you. Without a thought, you kissed him back, melting into his arms. Gaze intense, he tore away from you, talking low and firm. "You're gonna sit your pretty self down and do this, alright?"

Your hand went absentmindedly to your lips, drawing them in as you tasted him. Who knew a kiss was all you needed? With a gentle shove, he settled you back on the ground beside him, retrieved the book, and opened it once more.

When you finished, you looked at Arthur, and he was staring back at you with a cocky grin. It was the first time you'd read with no mistakes. You threw yourself back into his arms, climbing into his lap, a knee on either side of him. Holding you firm by the waist, Arthur didn't hesitate to kiss you again this time, letting desire he didn't even know he had guide him to you. He could have you like that for hours, and he did, only easing his grip on you when you heard pans banging, alerting you to dinner.

Arthur had discovered the key to motivating you, and since then, you discovered a newfound love for reading. You eagerly awaited your lessons, knowing the handsome outlaw's lips would be there for you when you finished.

Arthur was happy to help, but it wasn't just about the makeout sessions for him. Of course, he could die a happy man with you on top of him, but he loved how your eyes lit up when you made progress. He loved seeing you feel confident. He loved making you happy.

Though he wouldn't dare complain, he couldn't help the nagging feeling that Hosea had knowingly arranged this? Arthur tried to go unnoticed in his subtle observations of you, attempting to conceal the fact that he was sweet on you and had been for a while.

"Can't con a conman, Arthur," his surrogate father once told him. Maybe that wasn't just about robbing. The gunslinger wanted you so bad after all this time, needed you, and hoped you needed him just as much. He'd made himself free today, waiting patiently for you to finish your chores, keeping himself occupied with minor tasks. Just as you finished, you watched him disappear behind the grass and head to your spot.

You joined him; the book rested in his lap while he smoked a cigarette. You took the cigarette from him, having a drag yourself and giggling at your own mischief. He snatched it back from you, pretending to be annoyed but smiling nonetheless. Taking one more puff, he snuffed it in the grass. Before he could make another move, you took the book from his lap, replacing it with yourself. Your hands went to the nape of his neck, drawing his lips into yours. He kissed you back, entertaining you momentarily, but withdrew with his hands still resting on your backside.

"Read first, then I'll take care of ya', sweetheart." His eyes were half-lidded, and his voice lowered a few octaves, both weighed down with desire. You huffed and unmounted the cowboy, opening the book and reading, anything to feel his touch again. As you finished the last paragraph, your attention shifted to his hand kneading circles into your thigh. Breath thickening, his other hand fell to the hem of your dress, making it ride up as his hand traveled slowly up your leg.

The reading grew choppier now, your attention too consumed by his touch. You stopped reading altogether when his hand snaked over your thigh, and three of his fingers pressed against a warm, damp spot in the center of your bloomers. Flushing, a faint gasp escaped you.

"Gonna need to get these off, darlin'," he huffed into your ear. Wasting no time, you tossed the book aside and lifted your hips to slide the garment down around your ankles. Desire almost overpowered him; he wanted to devour you, to have his fingers and face buried between you, but he had a job to do, and he always finished the job.

Stopping, he moved his hand from your heat to your thigh and reached across you to grab the discarded book. Clearing his throat, he thumped the book, "Another page." Incredulous, you blinked a few times, gawking at him.

"Arthur, how do you expect me to focus when—"

He cut you off with a curt whistle and a stony glance, "Shut it, woman, and read." His grip tightened on your thigh. Those pools of blue and stern tone sent another jolt through you; god, if only he knew what he did to you. Like you were hypnotized, you opened the book, still very aware of your aching womanhood. He kissed your neck, his chest vibrating with amusement.

"Good girl," he murmured in your ear.

You were wrapped around his finger figuratively, and you craved to be literally, too. As you began to read aloud again, his hand smoothed over your thigh and landed right where you wanted it. He glided a finger up and down that sacred site, stopping on your clit and rubbing tiny circles there. Involuntarily, you arched up into his hand, and his name fell off your lips in a moan, your focus tearing away from the printed words at your hands. Then he stopped, taking away that sweet attention you loved so much.

"Shhh...Keep going;" his voice was low and deep, and he kissed down your neck to your shoulder. He moved his hand back when you started again; it was the most fluent you'd ever read. You don't know how you managed. As soon as you finished the last word on the page, you tossed the book and grabbed Arthur by the hairs on the back of his head, tugging him towards you and tasting him. He groaned and let a finger slip inside of you.

You gasped at the invasion, raising your hips off the ground and tilting into him. Pressing his lips to your ear, he kissed it and whispered mischievously, "You tryin' to get us caught?" You could feel him smile against your ear, and you pulled him to you once more, letting his mouth muffle your sounds of ecstasy.

He loved the way you felt, so velvety, slick, and tight. He teased you, pumping you with just one finger, then lightly circling your clit just to stop and caress you all over. You knew, and he knew, that he could bring you to that peak at any moment, but he didn't want it to be over just yet. He'd dreamed what you felt like for so long, how you'd respond to him, and now that it was reality, he wanted to savor every minute.

You were rocking your hips now, trying to feel any semblance of friction, trying desperately to reach the climax that Arthur kept you right on the edge of.

Then he sank two more large digits inside, making you press your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut. He waited for you to adjust, kissing your ear and talking you through the girthy new additions. His thumb back on your clit caused a shiver to run down you as you relaxed.

"There you go," he mumbled in your ear, and you knew it wouldn't be long then. His thumb never left, keeping a constant speed and pattern as he worked you. Your stomach burned as that sweet, sweet tension built inside of you. Arthur buried his face in your neck, focusing on bringing you bliss. "That's it, sweet girl. Give it to me."

He groaned along with you as your embrace on his fingers tightened, and your body shuddered. He kept his hand there as you came down, relishing in the way your insides squeezed and released him over and over again. His head spun when he removed his fingers from you; you were so wet, all for him. He'd been so focused on you that the bulge in his pants went unnoticed until now.

Meanwhile, you had replaced your bloomers and smoothed out your skirt, trying to reset after the fireworks behind your eyes had exploded. You giggled, seeing Arthur give attention to his own building arousal. You beamed at him, all cheeky and coy.

"I think I hear Ms. Grimashaw looking for me," you teased, standing and dusting your skirt. His face fell bewildered, and you couldn't look at him in fear that your innocent act would falter. "Gonna have to bed me properly if you want more, Mr. Morgan."

With that, you winked at him and walked away, leaving Arthur with just his hand and imagination to satisfy him. You'd decided to join Hosea at a table, taking a piece of discarded newspaper and reading it yourself. He watched, a proud smile growing on his face. It only took Arthur five minutes to calm himself, reappearing from the treeline with eagle eyes that focused only on you.

Crazed, he approached you, placing a heavy hand on the small of your back before removing it hastily, remembering he was out in the open now. Hosea's eyes shifted between you discerningly. He coughed and gestured to the paper in your hand. "Well, Arthur, it seems you're a better teacher than me, after all." Neither of you caught the hint of amusement in his voice. You patted Hosea's shoulder and stood.

"Thanks, old man. I love reading now. In fact, me and Arthur are gonna go to town right now for some more Penny Dreadfuls. We'll bring you another paper, too."

Arthur perked up at this new suggestion and followed after you, practically tripping over himself as you headed towards his hitched horse. Hosea returned to his newspaper, kicking his feet up and chuckling to himself knowingly. His hunch had been right about you two, after all.

#all banners and pics made by me #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 photography #read dead redemption 2 photography #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #zaefic #amje

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insomniac4000 · 23 days ago

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Neighbourly Love- ChrisMD

Chris rolled his eyes as ArthurTV made yet another single joke out of Chris’s expense during one of his video shoots. Part of it was because he had heard these joke hundreds if not thousands of times before but partly it was because deep down he knew it wasn’t true. It was an old cliché, you can’t see what is in front of you and this was true for Chris. After over a year of searching he found what he had been looking for only one door away. His neighbour Y/N had moved into the flat a mere two weeks after Chris had moved in with George and Arthur, he saw the woman visibly struggling with her boxes and with recent memories etched in his brain of his moving day, aching arms and paper cuts. He leant her a hand, with George ad Arthur making jokes amongst themselves about how Chris would do anything for a date. Friendship happened between the quartet very quickly. Y/N was 26, she was an agent for voice over artists, it was career that she fell into by starting as a receptionist for an casting agency and she worked her way up from there. She got to tell people their dreams came true and she had a great team of people she worked with and laughed all day. Plus she got invited to the odd party and got to find out details of video games and shows before anyone else.

Chris loved his flat—a lively, chaotic space, it had a great balcony and he had his own space. The three of them made an unconventional but close-knit family of sorts, with the occasional addition of Y/N, their friendly neighbour. Y/N’s presence in the flat was so routine it felt like she lived there, always lending a helping hand with video ideas, joining them for impromptu dinners, or simply hanging out. Apart from Chris the boys weren’t great at cooking but it was something Y/N loved to do so she often would drop round a homemade lasagne or she would cook in their kitchen drinking a glass or three of wine while the boys mucked around. The friendship was easy, Y/N shared the same stupid sense of humour and some of the same interests as the boys. She was a great addition to pub quizzes knowing a ton of useless information.

Unbeknownst to George and Arthur or to anyone really, Y/N wasn’t just their neighbour anymore. For the past two months, Chris and Y/N had been secretly dating. It happened after a drunken kiss, Chris went to Y/N’s flat the following day with a bunch of flowers and a quivering voice ready to grovel and apologise but it wasn’t needed. They both agreed to keep it quiet for now, wanting to test the waters without the added pressure of public scrutiny. But the secrecy was starting to weigh on Chris.

He leaned against the counter in the kitchen, watching Y/N laugh at something Arthur said. Her eyes crinkled in that way he adored, and her laughter rang out like music. Chris’s fingers tightened around the mug of tea in his hand. “Everything okay, mate?” George’s voice broke through his thoughts. He raised an eyebrow, well half an eyebrow at Chris, who quickly snapped out of his trance.

“Yeah, fine,” Chris replied, a little too quickly. George’s suspicion lingered for a moment before he shrugged and turned back to Arthur and Y/N. Chris exhaled slowly. Keeping this secret wasn’t easy. He wanted to tell them. He wanted to tell the world. But he respected Y/N’s cautious approach. He caught her eye as she finished her story, Chris sent her a wink and she smiled desperately trying to hide the creeping blush on her face.

Later that night, the group prepared for a night out. It wasn’t unusual for the four of them to go to pubs or clubs together; it made for entertaining Instagram Stories and, occasionally, video content. Y/N emerged from her flat to join them, and Chris’s breath caught. She looked stunning—a sleek red dress that hugged her figure perfectly, paired with a confident smile that made his chest tighten.

“Someone’s out to impress,” Chris commented, looking at her up and down, wondering if she was wearing his favourite red lacy underwear set underneath.

“You’re going to make all of us look underdressed,” Arthur teased, nudging her shoulder as they walked toward lift. Y/N laughed, but Chris caught her glancing at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously. His heart raced. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. The lift dinged and they all filed in, Chris swallowed as he felt Y/N’s hips brush against his, he composed himself and bumped her hip with his slightly.

“Some personal space please, this is a new shirt I don’t want it wrinkled,” the small man pretended to be disgusted.

“Yeah like anyone else will be wrinkling it tonight,” she snapped back with a twinkle in her eye.

“Pack it in you two,” George replied with a smile. Both him and Arthur had noticed a few little moments over the past couple of weeks, but they still had no idea what was really going on.

The club was packed, the music loud enough to vibrate through their bodies. Drinks flowed freely, and the group found themselves in a corner, laughing and chatting. Y/N was in her element, she loved to dance and she seemed to move so effortlessly, her charisma drawing people to her like moths to a flame. The first guy to try his luck was tall, broad and blonde. Y/N gave a polite smile but shook her head and he took it well. Chris watched as several guys tried their luck, each one bolder than the last. The last guy had tried twice and Chris could see him making his way over again. He clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his glass.

“You good?” George asked, leaning in to be heard over the music.

“Yeah, just not a fan of this musical,” Chris lied, forcing a smile. George gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push. Chris’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, who was politely declining the drink the guy had bought for her. She caught his eye and gave him a reassuring smile, but it did little to ease the frustration bubbling inside him, they knew the signal, if she needed rescuing she would tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Chris hated feeling this way—jealous, powerless, unable to do anything without risking their secret. He wanted to walk over, slide an arm around her waist, and make it clear to everyone that she was his. But instead, he stayed rooted to his spot, silently stewing.

Hours later, they piled back into the an Uber, the night’s energy slowly fading into a comfortable buzz. Y/N sat next to Chris in the back seat, her hand brushing against his. She glanced at him, her expression softening. “You okay?” she murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“Yeah,” he replied, though his tone betrayed him. Y/N further knew something was up when he said goodnight to her and walked into his flat instead of walking her to her door and stealing a quick kiss. She sent him a message saying tell me when they go to bed, I’m coming over and won’t take no for an answer”

Knowing her had no choice when George and Arthur headed to their respective rooms he tect her a simple “now” and after two minutes Chris and Y/N were standing in the living room. She turned to him, arms crossed. “Okay, spill. What’s wrong?”

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just... tonight. Seeing those guys hitting on you and not being able to do anything about it. It’s driving me mad, Y/N.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Chris, you know none of them matter. It’s you I’m with.”

“I know,” he said, his voice quiet. “But it’s not just that. I hate that I can’t tell people about us. I want to. I want to share this with the world. With George and Arthur. With everyone.”

Y/N hesitated, her brow furrowing. “I get that. And I’m not saying we keep this a secret forever. I just... I like what we have right now. It feels safe, you know?”

Chris nodded, though he couldn’t hide the lingering frustration. She reached up, cupping his face and forcing him to look at her. “Hey. This isn’t forever. Just a little longer, okay? For me?”

He exhaled deeply, his hands resting on her waist. “Okay. For you.”

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him, and for a moment, the weight on his chest lifted. It was worth it. She was worth it.

The next morning, Chris woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. He stumbled out of his room to find Y/N and Arthur engaged in an intense debate about the best type of cereal. George sat at the table, clearly amused.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Y/N teased, her eyes twinkling as she handed him a mug of coffee. Chris smiled, the memory of their conversation last night still fresh in his mind. He could handle this. For now, he could handle this.

But as he watched her banter with his friends, her laughter filling the room, he couldn’t help but count down the days until he could finally share her with the world.

#chrismd #chris dixon #chrismd imagine

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