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#Arthur x Reader
tayyytayyy12 · 5 months
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Invisible String
Max’s little sister happens to be a singer and releases a few new songs about someone special. But some are convinced they’re about her best friend Lando.
Arthur Leclerc x Singer!Verstappen!Reader. Social Media AU
Warnings - More songs stollen form Tay Tay 🫶 Mentions of a toxic ex
My masterlist
Y/nVerstappen
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𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺, 𝘔𝘢𝘹𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴, & 2,445,231 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴
Y/nVerstappen - I know I’ve been away for a long time but your fav Verstappen sibling is back! With a new single ;). This is a little song I wrote called ‘invisible string’ for someone very special in my life. As you probably know according to the media, I have many emotions. So, when something happened with a shitty person, I had a lot more than usual. And two people helped me through it, Max and the person who I wrote this song for. The songs out now so feel free to scamper over to a streaming service if your choice. Remember though, without you, my loving fans, there wouldn’t be any music, so, thank you. I love you all.
User1 - ‘One single thread of gold tied me to you’ THATS THE SWEETEST SHIT EVER. I NEED TO KNOW WHO ITS ABOUT.
User2 - Her saying Max helped her through her brake up with Your/exs/Name is the cutest 😭 Fr sibling goals.
User3 - Hear me out… It’s about Lando.
- User4 - Why would anyone think that?
- User5 - C’mon they’ve been best friends for years. He’s lingering in the likes. The thread of gold that could’ve tied them together was him and Max working together, and other than Max, Lando was the only person Y/n was seen with after her brake up. It’s so obviously him.
LandoNorris
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𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘠/𝘯𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘔𝘢𝘹𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 & 1,276,271 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴
LandoNorris - Hate us cuz you ain’t us. @Y/nVerstappen
Y/nVerstappen - Facts.
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳
User6 - Trying to convince us they’re just friends.
User7 - WE KNOW YOURE TOGETHER JUST CONFIRM IT.
User8 - This man had invisible string written about him 😭
ArthurLeclerc
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𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘺, 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘓𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘤, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴 & 678,382 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴
ArthurLeclerc - Mon amour 🤍 (My love)
User9 - Arthur, love, what about our kids?
User10 - I NEED TO KNOW, WHO, WHEN, HOW AND WHY YOU WOULD DO THIS TO ME.
CharlesLeclerc - So instagram finds out before me?
- ArthurLeclerc - Yes.
- User11 - We found out before his own brother 😭
Y/nVerstappen
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𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴, 𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘓𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘤 & 3,132,128 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴
Y/nVerstappen - My second single, ‘Call it what you want’ is out now, my god I love this one. I know that I vent about how I feel to you guys in every song that I write but I do hope that after you listen to them you can find a way to make them about you, because that’s what I hope for, that you can relate to my art. I had some help writing this one though ;) also the hand written lyrics were written by Lando, my handwriting is shit. Thanks @LandoNorris forever my main supporter.
MaxVerstappen - So Lando’s your main supporter and I’m not?
- Y/nVerstappen - Lando didn’t try and spray me with cleaning disinfectant when I had the chicken pox.
- User12 - I love how she always exposes Max 😭
LandoNorris - I’m proud 🥲
- User13 - You should be the songs literally written about you.
ArthurLeclerc - Catchy song Y/n, good job.
- User14 - NOPE. LEAVE LANDO & Y/N ALONE. GO BACK TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND.
Y/nVerstappen
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Y/nVerstappen - Not one of you guessed it was @ArthurLeclerc. I don’t know whether to be proud or disappointed. But, the secrets out, my secret lover boy is Arthur. I love you and thanks for helping me write songs about how much I love you 🤍
User15 - What about Lando 🥲 I though he was gonna be involved whenever you got married.
- Y/nVerstappen - Don’t worry, he’ll still be involved. He’ll just be my maid of honour instead.
- LandoNorris - I can’t wait.
ArthurLeclerc - I love you, Mon amour. And I’ll write songs with you anytime.
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borzoia · 2 months
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Save a horse-- Ride a Cowboy!
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Arthur Morgan x f!reader Includes; PIV, cowgirl position, drinking, consensually fucking under the influence. MDNI
A/N; My take on the save a horse ride a cowboy trend.
It was a summer night, the saloon was packed with loud mouthed men drinking enough liquor to kill a boar. Ladies were scattered across the bar waiting for a sober(ish) man to swoop them off. Standing beside your two friends you swayed side to side, your shoes were definitely not made to stand for this long. Ignoring the nonsensical chatter of the girls beside you, you notice a familiar face– Arthur.
Arthur and you had a short history, when your horse escaped from your family’s barn he was quick to chase her down and bring her back seemingly calmer than when she ran. He’d help with you little favors from time to time, you’d repay him with homemade sweets and some liquor. He’d never stayed long than a few hours at a time, keeping the conversation simple as he let you talk most of the time. He was a sweetheart whether he’d like to admit it or not, but you could never quite get him to crack his shell.
You push past a few drunks who have no spatial awareness and stand behind Arthur, he’s rambling about some big bust he had with him and his gang, wordlessly you pluck the cowboy hat on his head, placing it on your own. He turns around with a glare that could kill but his face softens when he recognizes it’s you, he lets out a low laugh, quickly snatching the hat back.
You hop on the bar stool next to him, “Someone’s ready for a fight.” You remark. “Always.” He says slyly, throwing back what’s left in his glass. The rowdy group next to him laughs wickedly, playfully roughing him up, “You gon’ take that cowboy?” They tease, Arthur ignores them for the most part. “C’mon Arthur! Save a horse ride-”
Arthur slams the empty glass on the bar, “Hush now!” He growls, the men erupt in laughter unphased by the man’s outburst. “Bunch o’ children..”
Eventually they sulk away, going off to harass another bystander. You and Arthur get to chatting, you bring up his horse and he happily updates you on his well-being, he’s opening up more than usual, going on about the mini adventures he has in his day to day life, the little feud’s he gets into with the gang. He swears he’s no poet and even stops himself mid sentence to reiterate that, in your opinion he has a beautiful way with his words not in the fancy way, but he keeps your attention like no one else. “Them boys earlier..”  You start,
“Awh, they ain’t worth a breath.” He says. “So you know 'em?” You reply.
“Drinkin’ buddies, that’s all.” “They got you riled up with that ‘Save a horse’ crap.” You comment, he lets out a gruff laugh. “You know what that means?” He glances at you without lifting his head. You shake your head, sipping your whiskey, He laughs again the time avoiding your gaze. “What?” He ignores you, “C’mon, I ain’t a little girl!” You say, which only eggs him on, he finishes the bottle in his hand, shaking his head as the bottle slams down. “I ain’t your teacher.” He rasps, bringing his elbows to rest up on the counter. “Please!” You beg, shaking him lightly, “Thought you wasn’t a little girl?” He snapped. You roll your eyes, a dull silence falls between you, you turn away, observing the crowd of men and women dancing, laughing and drinking, you turn back to Arthur with a smirk, plucking the hat off his head once more and wearing it, he turns to snatch back but you leap from your seat, walking backwards with a wide grin. He’s pissed, you push past the crowds of drunks, til you hit the saloon doors, drunkenly you forget about the steps and nearly tumble down them, Arthur snatches your wrist, “Watch it, girl.” He scowls, he pulls you back up to the porch dragging you away from the few onlookers outside. “Sorry,” You mumble stumbling into the wooden railing. “You’re alright.” He says. “Why won’t you just tell me already?” Arthur sighs, readjusting his posture and hanging one hand on his belt. “It’s dirty.” He says quietly. “‘Save a horse– Ride a cowboy.” He says, your eyes widen a bit, the hat now loosely on your head. “I ain’t that kinda man,” He looks to the side, maybe it was the liquor or lack of people– but you laughed, in his face. “‘What you got hidin’ under that skirt for me?’” You mock his voice, leaning into him as you laugh, “Arthur you are a filthy man don’t lie.” “Watch your mouth.” He barks.
“Or what?” You retort.
He sighs loudly, chewing the inside of his cheek, you could see the moment on his face where he thought ‘Fuck it.’ He grabs your forearm, dragging you down the saloon steps, he knew the route to your apartment, hell he had an extra key, he crashed into your living room, slamming the door behind you two.
Before you knew it his mouth was on you, rough beard scratching your face, he pulls away, “where we goin’?” He rasps, “I don’t care,” you huff, “I need you.” He laughs against your lips, “And I’m filthy,’ he says before closing the gap, he guides you to the couch, laying you down gently, he next moves were the opposite, a rough hand find your waist, the other pushing up your skirt, massaging your thighs, but not daring to go any further. Your uncoordinated hands work to unbutton your blouse, there’s unexplainable heat beneath your skin and Arthur’s hands are ice cold, “Tell me to stop and I will.” He says in between kisses, “Don’t.” You exhale. Your words are a green light for him, he moves down to your neck placing open mouthed kisses down your soft skin, your hands get entangled in his brunette hair, soft gasps leaving your mouth, he palms one breast through your bra, tugging the strap down on the other side, he places soft kisses on your bare chest while the other hand roughly gropes you, the contrast was enough to make you whimper. 
His rough touch leaves you for a moment, moving to undo your bra with one hand, he tugs the fabric off of you, sitting back to admire your bare chest, “Look at you,” He remarks, you whine, dragging his hands back to your aching body. “Easy girl, you’ll have your turn.” He chuckles, undoing his belt and discarding it somewhere in the room, he unsheathed his cock, you immediately reach for it like your greedy, “Ah-ah, hands to yerself.”  he strokes himself for a measure, fondling your chest with his free hand. He lowers himself, pushing your boobs together and slotting himself between him, he grabs your wrists, pinning them on the arm of the sofa with one hand, with every thrust he lets out a low groan, using you as he pleases. “Fuck..” He moans as you arch your back closer to him, your chaste whimpers and whines are like music to his ears bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly he pulls away leaving your chest covered in precum.
Wordlessly he hooks his fingers around the hem of your skirt, pulling the garment down in one fell swoop, again he tosses it with no regard. He wraps his hands around your waist, flipping you over so you're on top, he lets you get comfy atop his hard cock, slowly rocking your hips back and forth. “Thatta’ girl..” He praises, slowly pushing your panties to the side, “C’mere girl,” He pulls you close, your chest to his, he places kisses on your collarbone as he slides inside your dripping core, you whine at the stretch, “Sh.. shh.. That’s it..” He lets you sit up at your own pace, guiding you into a slow rhythm, “Just like that, sweetheart.” His hands leave you to rest behind his head, giving you full control.
With a hand on the couch you steady yourself, keeping the slow pace, despite your inexperience you’ve heard plenty of talk on how to please a man, you grind your hips against his before lifting up and slowly coming back down, his tip is bruising your cervix even at the turtle tempo. Arthur takes the hat from his head, placing it on yours as you continue to ride him, it gives you a new filled confidence, you speed up, boobs bouncing as your hips slam down. Your moans bounce off the walls and you’re sure your neighbors can hear but god you’re drunk on his cock, Arthur throws his head back as your speed up, clenching around him when you hear his breathy groans, “Fuck..!” He moans, his half lidded glossy eyes meet yours and he snaps, “C’mere.” he says, pulling you close once more, he grips your ass and mercilessly pounds into you, fucking every sweet sound possible out of you, you repeat his name like prayer as the thread inside you snaps, your fingers tangled in his hair as you cum. His pace doesn’t relent, “Just a little longer sweetheart..” He breathily groans in your ear, pumping in and out of your cunt slower til pulls out and finishes. For a few minutes the two of you lay in silence, breathing heavily as you recuperate, you’re the first to break the silence. “You.. are a filthy man Mister. Morgan..” You pant, “Don’t sound like a complaint to me, cowgirl.”
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wildfloweroutlaw · 1 month
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Reflections
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pairing: arthur x female reader
summary: arthur returns home to you after long days on the road, and brings with him a fun new idea.
warnings: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, vaginal sex, i guess kinda soft dom if you squint, maybe not historically accurate terms for clothing?
a/n: sorry if i’m rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve wrote, but i had so much fun doing this! someone throw a bucket of cold water on me.
word count: 1.6K
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The feeling of hot kisses and Arthur’s scruff crept down your exposed collar bone. His form rested heavily atop your own, gently pressing you into the mattress below. You tangled your hands in his shirt, tugging at it with impatience.
“So god damn beautiful…” Arthur murmured between kisses, eyes soaking in your half naked form below him. His hand snaked its way down to your waistband and slid underneath with practiced ease. He palmed you gently through your panties, eliciting a muffed moan from you. He could feel the fabric was entirely soaked through already, “All this ‘cause of me darlin’?”
You could only manage a soft moan, hips jutting up in search of more pressure. Your fingers moved to twine their way into his hair, pulling softly. You felt Arthur pull away suddenly, but quickly returned to yank your pants away from your body, throwing them to the side. Suddenly feeling far too alone in your nakedness, you reached for Arthur’s shirt buttons, popping them open one by one until you could pull the fabric away from his body. You were quick to toss it into the ever-growing pile on the floor.
Arthur closed the distance between you two with haste, pressing his bare chest to you as he reached around your back to unfasten your bra. He leaned back a bit to take in the view, one calloused palm coming up to caress your breast. “Christ alive you’re perfect.” Arthur’s spare hand found the bulge in his pants, palming himself in hopes of a little relief.
“So are you...” You whimpered under his touch, reaching to grab his hand and guide it to your clothed heat. “Please Arthur… need you inside me so bad.” You blushed at your own words, knowing you probably sounded pathetic but you didn’t care. It had been far too long since you’d had Arthur and you thought about him almost every night he was gone. Sometimes so much so that your hands would find their way under the sheets late at night and you’d imagine they were his.
Arthur chuckled softly at you, “needy aren’t ya?”
“You have no idea.”
His breath brushed against the shell of your ear, “oh I think I do… but your wish is my command. Sit tight a minute darlin’.” Arthur pushed himself up off the bed and disappeared into the next room. He returned a moment later, carrying a full length mirror, placing it carefully at the foot of the bed.
“What are you up to Arthur?” Your eyes followed him curiously and you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look. You glanced between your mostly naked reflection and your lover’s form.
“You’ll see, just trust me.” He undid his belt buckle and let it clatter to the floor along with his jeans, leaving him standing before you in only his briefs and your eyes drank in his form hungrily. He closed the distance between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours passionately. Arthur then reached down to slowly and tenderly remove your panties, discarding them to the side.
Arthur’s fingers found your most sensitive spots with practiced ease. You studied his handsome face while he pleasured you, but you found his own eyes studying something else. You followed his gaze towards the end of the bed and your eyes met in the mirror. You had almost forgotten the mirror was even there, but now you took in the scene that was laid before you. You, with your legs spread wide, one flung haphazardly across Arthur’s lap. You watched how Arthur’s weathered fingers worked you rhythmically, all with a smug look on his face. You closed your eyes quickly, your face heating up at the lewd depictions reflected in front of you.
Arthur pulled away suddenly and you groaned in protest, eyes fluttering open to find Arthur removing his briefs. He was quick to return to your side, lifting one of your legs a bit to grant him better access. “God damnit darlin’… I’m an impatient man. I’d like to take ya now… if that’s alright with you.” He slid his throbbing member back and forth against your entrance, waiting for your permission.
You agreed hungrily, “yes, oh Arthur please… I-I’ve dreamt of you inside me every night since you left.” Your hand went to caress his bearded jaw tenderly, your gaze meeting his.
Arthur chuckled softly, “and now ya got me.” He pushed inside you, slowly, until he was sheathed to the hilt. You both let out moans at the sudden pressure. Arthur waited in perfect stillness for you to adjust to his size, eyes locked on yours.
Only a couple heartbeats had passed before you were hungrily bucking your hips backwards onto his length, a silent plea for Arthur to move, even just a little. You stared right back at him, eyes filled with desperation.
His broad chest pressed against your back and a well-muscled arm snaked around your waist, the other sliding under your shoulders to cradle you against him. “And I thought I was impatient…” Arthur laughed under his breath, “I always give ya what ya need don’t I?” He moved his hips painfully slow, pulling all the way out and back in.
Finally growing tired of teasing you, Arthur quickened his pace, finding a steady rhythm. A symphony of moans left your mouth, mixing with Arthur’s. You let your eyes flutter closed and your head fall back in pleasure.
“Look.” Arthur commanded while his grip on your waist tightened slightly.
You opened your eyes again and looked to the end of the bed where the mirror stood. You let your eyes freely rove the imagine laid out in front of you. The slight pink tint to your face, Arthur’s large hand sneaking up to toy with the sensitive bud of your nipple, the way his hips snapped to yours, him disappearing inside of you. It was all almost too much. Just as you were about to look away, Arthur gently gripped you by the chin and kept you in place.
“Wanted ya to see how pretty ya look-“ Arthur’s voice was cut off by a groan. “Wanted ya to see how well ya take my cock for me.”
Arthur’s breath was hot against the shell of your ear and when you met his gaze in the mirror, his face was painted with ecstasy. The sight of his beautiful face, and the sight of you making him feel that good, was almost enough to send you over the edge then and there. “You look- pretty too.” You struggled to form words as the haze of lust had already seeped into your brain, but Arthur smiled all the same.
“Jesus you feel so good… my sweet girl.” Arthur cooed into your ear, the pad of his thumb brushing over your other nipple.
“Arthur… getting close.” You managed to choke out between moans, putty in his hands at this point.
“I know sweetheart.” And he did know. He knew your body just as well as his own. “Promise me you’ll keep those eyes open and I’ll give ya what you want, alright?” He moved to press sloppy kisses to the side of your neck.
You nodded furiously, “mmhmm.. I promise.” You could have sworn your entire body was on fire.
Arthur dropped his hand to the crook of your knee, lifting your leg to allow for a deeper angle. “That feel good darlin’?” He picked his pace up a bit.
You were past the point of words as waves of pleasure racked your body and you watched the scene in front of you through half-lidded eyes.
Arthur took the pretty noises spewing out of you as a yes.
You were so close, the pleasure almost blinding. This was exactly what you needed, exactly what you had been missing. You reached a hand between your legs, rubbing small circles and relishing the additional sensation.
Arthur nearly choked at the sight. “You’re gonna be the death of me woman.” His thrusts faltered slightly, growing sloppier as he neared his own climax.
Your fingers kept a steady rhythm, “Arthur I-“
Arthur’s growl in your ear was the only thing keeping you tethered to this universe, ”Go ahead sweetheart, let go for me.”
At his words, your orgasm rolled through you and curses and moans tumbled from your lips. Finally your eyes snapped shut from the pleasure.
The feeling of you clenching around him sent Arthur falling over the edge right after you, rutting into you helplessly as he chased his own climax. Arthur moaned your name like it was the only word he could remember how to say, in that moment it might have been. His orgasm crashed down around him, lighting him on fire.
His pace finally slowed to a stop, and for a long time the two of you just laid there with nothing but the sound of both of your pants filling the room. Arthur wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him.
You turned in his embrace, rolling over to stare up at his face. “Where’d you come up with this idea?” You nodded over your shoulder to the mirror that still stood at the foot of the bed.
Arthur shrugged. “Dunno… just thought about it while I was staying at a hotel. I thought it’d be something we’d both like.”
“You have any other fun ideas while you were gone?” You grinned up at him, fingers tracing shapes on his chest.
Arthur chuckled, “More than I can count. You’re just about all I can think about.” Arthur pressed a few tender kisses to your lips. “I love ya sweetheart, I’m so glad I’m home.” He rested his forehead against yours.
You accepted all of his affection with open arms, glowing in his embrace. “I love you too Arthur… and maybe we could try out a couple more of your ideas?” Arthur’s chuckle was his only response.
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viharbinger · 8 months
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A Proper Husband
To Know: wife!reader is shorter than Arthur , fluff and fluff only mwuah
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When Arthur came back to the camp from the mayor's party in St Denis, you were all over him. His hair was combed, his suit was tailored nicely, everything you didn't think your mud loving husband could become.
He came back a few hours after dinner and you gasped at the mere sight of him. "Who is this handsome, proper and dressed up fellow?" You gush, walking up to him to adjust his blazer. He chuckles as a response, standing still so you could admire him longer. "Your husband, ma'am." He clears his throat and plays along, ears warm and stomach tingly from the sudden affection.
"Ah! And you combed!" You gush even more, pulling his tall stature down to press kisses all over his face, tickled by his stubble. And he squints everytime you brush your lips near his eyes. You're just not used to seeing him all cleaned up for a party, the last time you did was your wedding and unfortunately, it only lasted for a while!
"Get a room." John sneers as he walks past the two of you. You finally stop kissing him and cup his face gently. You were about to say something again but the setting was just perfect. Javier was singing and playing his guitar, and everyone in camp was either getting ready for bed or dancing with one another.
"I would love to be danced by a suited man once in a while." You grin cheekily, tip toeing your fingers up his shoulder. He laughs as a response, quick to grab your hands on his shoulder to bring you closer to the source of the music.
You both swung with each other, danced left and right, maybe stepped on one another's foot once or twice and tracked dirt all over his expensive dress pants. But at least you had a great time with the love of your life. And it's not often you see your husband in a clean getup!
And so, your night consisted of countless kisses and giggles, dancing and singing. You couldn't have had it any other way.
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reaveries · 1 year
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▬  a warm place for numb fingers (18+)
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summary: after a conversation with a friend, tension arises between the reader and arthur. action is ultimately forced into her hands... or fingers, more like.
pairings: high honor!arthur morgan x female!reader
warnings: mature content (18+)// explicit descriptions of fingering, cunnilingus, and some good ol' fucking
word count: 5.7k (estimated 23-minute reading time)
a/n: this goes out to all the cold and horny girls out there. i see you and i salute you. enjoy the fic
masterlist archive of our own
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The chill was an inescapable thing and it followed her closely wherever she went. It burned her face red whenever she emerged from the mining town cabins. When she’d been forced to ride against it in fierce storms, it possessed her hair to lash violently across her cheeks in a blinding fury. And once those storms passed, it continued to insatiably lap at any skin left exposed to its gnawing teeth. Numbness in her fingertips became commonplace, leaving her defenseless as her trigger finger trembled beneath thin leather gloves. Like a starved coyote, the chill searched for any scrap of flesh it could find and devoured it to the bone. It wasn’t forgiving, as nature often isn’t.
She draws her coat closer to her body now, but the little winds continue to hungrily nip at her cheeks and dust them pink. What once ravaged her has become meek since they’ve descended the peaks of the Grizzlies. But it’s still there, and will continue to be until spring thaws the world. 
“Can’t believe I’m lookin’ at one of the most wanted outlaws this side of the Dakota.”
She looks up from her feet and sees Karen smiling, holding a cigarette between her fingers. She brings it to her lips and draws out the smoke.
“God, if the Pinkertons knew how big of a baby you really are, maybe they’d have tried their luck in Colter,” she says with a cheeky grin.
“That’s the only way those fuckers could’ve taken me down,” the outlaw says, laughing bitterly into her scarf. “I’ve never done well in the cold. Every day that I wake up and can’t feel my toes, I’m closer to packing up and fleeing to New Austin. Thinking of building myself a house made of cacti.”
She walks through the frost-laden grass to where her friend stands, overlooking the Dakota river.
“You’re fulla shit,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. “The day you leave this bunch will be the day God, himself, shoots you off your horse. Got too much love in your little heart for the lot of us.”
The woman chuckles dryly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Got too much love for you, Karen,” she says in a sickeningly sweet tone and leans in, tilting her head dramatically to the side as if to give her a sloppy kiss.
“Get the hell away from me!” Karen screeches and fumbles to push her away. 
The outlaw stumbles backward lazily with her head thrown back in laughter.
“You play around too much, you know that?” Karen says, shaking her head, but the forceful tug on the right side of her lips gives her away. 
She smiles down her nose at the blonde woman, “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearin’.”
Once they both settle down, Karen extends the cigarette to her, offering whatever she can manage as it quickly dies out. She takes it between her forefinger and thumb and lets the smoke warm her from the inside.
“You know what I overheard some of the workin’ girls sayin’ when I was in town?” Karen speaks up as the smoke escapes the woman’s throat. 
She hums in question. Words out of the mouth of a working girl can hardly ever be taken for truth, but damn if they weren’t entertaining.
“Apparently, the number of clients they get skyrockets in the winter months. Somethin’ about men subconsciously wantin’ to be warmed up so they seek out activities that make ‘em break a sweat.”
She nods, “I guess that makes enough sense.”
Karen shakes her head, “That’s not all. The girls were also sayin’ that as it gets colder, the men are more and more riled up. Almost like it’s something with the moon, but instead of turnin’ into the dogman, they just wanna bury themselves in a woman real bad. But all I’m hearin’ while these girls are sayin’ this is that we got ourselves a bunch of fools too dumb to think clearly down in that little town.”
She stomps the life out of the cigarette with the toe of her boot, her spurs jingling as she drives it into the dirt. 
“Ain’t no way that’s true,” she says with a sardonic smile. “That last part, sure, but the moon’s got nothin’ to do with it.”
“Well, somethin’s gotta explain it,” Karen says and crosses her arms defensively across her chest. “I can tell ya, once it gets colder the men start lookin’ at ya different. I never noticed the link ‘till now but it kinda makes sense.”
She has to fight the laugh rising in her chest as she tries to seriously process the idea that men are becoming more aroused due to a giant orb in the sky. It takes everything in her not to but Karen sees right through her.
“It ain’t that ridiculous, you know. You can’t tell me you ain’t never noticed Arthur actin’ different.” 
The amusement rapidly drains from her face and is replaced by a look of bewilderment. 
“What are you talkin’ about Arthur for? Arthur and I are just friends, we ain’t like that,” she sputters out. 
“Oh, sorry,” Karen says, putting her hands up, “I forgot you was still on that.”
Her flustered reaction surprises even herself, causing a creeping warmth to crawl its way to her cheeks. A biting retort fumbles dumbly in her mouth.
“I��m not on anything. Don’t know what got in your head but it ain’t never been like that between Arthur and me.”
“It ain’t just in my head, honey. Everyone here knows it. You think folk ain’t seein’ the way you two touch up on each other the way you do? How neither of you goes nowhere without the other? Get real. It’s plain as day to everyone but yourself.”
She tosses a quick glance over her shoulder, hoping no one is near enough to hear their conversation. Instead, she sees that the camp has slowly come to life while she’d been distracted by Karen. Folk have begun their morning chores, migrating from washboards to clothing lines or splitting logs of wood in two. Her eyes flit across their faces until they land on the one she’s searching for. He’s far enough away, speaking with Pearson by the food supplies wagon. The cook waves his hands around animatedly but he’s turned away from her so she can’t tell what they’re speaking about. Arthur looks past the man and meets her eyes. He smiles and nods at her, to which she returns with a forced thin smile of her own. 
“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Karen,” she mutters, and without turning to say goodbye, walks away.
And yet, Karen’s words burrow themselves deep within her mind and linger in the spaces between each normal thought as the day continues. Surely she'd been exaggerating and not everyone in camp suspects her and Arthur to be intimate with each other. Karen just thinks she knows more than she does sometimes. It was very much like her to be overly confident about certain things, proclaiming them as fact even past the point she knows she’s wrong. Then again, that also wasn't the first time someone had mistaken their closeness for something more amorous in nature. Dutch, having watched her throw an arm around Arthur and share from his bottle, assumed the pair had made themselves official. This prompted some proud fatherly spiel wherein he clapped Arthur on the back and congratulated him. It was vague enough that neither of them knew what he was referring to until later. Once they both realized, it gave them a good doubled-over, tears-from-the-eyes sort of laugh. But Arthur quickly cleared it up with the man, assuring him that there was nothing of that sort going on. Apparently, Dutch remained unconvinced.
As she sharpens her knife, an interesting thought intrudes past the others. For a moment, she wonders if Arthur might be an exception to this phenomenon the working girls were talking about. He never spoke of women the way that most men did. So, if he’d ever been interested in that sort of way, she wasn’t privy to it in the slightest. But, he’s still a man and he isn’t immune to the desires of men. Could it be possible that Arthur wishes for a woman to warm his bed at night? Or perhaps, on the coldest nights, a woman to warm himself inside?
Her blade slips against the whetstone and nearly slices her hand open as depraved imagery flies behind her eyes. She curses loudly and the knife drops to the dirt with a muffled thud.
A horse gallops and skids next to the hitching post beside her and the rider quickly flies off the mount, hitting the earth with heavy feet. She looks up from her hand and it’s him. There’s a pristine buck carcass flung over the back of his mare from a hunting excursion he must be returning from. 
“You alright?” He asks in a raised voice, meeting her with a walk that holds no patience. He looks down at her hands, likely expecting to see them covered in blood. His shoulders drop in relief when he can’t find any.
“I’m fine,” she says, standing up quickly and brushing dust off her pants. She forcefully clears her head of the intrusive thoughts, worried he might be able to see them if he looks too close.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman. Don’t know what I’d do if you went and chopped off your trigger finger,” he says, running a stressed hand through his hair.
“You’d have to find a new riding partner, that’s for sure,” she quips unenthusiastically.
A breath of laughter leaves his lips to tell her she’s being ridiculous.
“Naw… There ain’t no replacin’ you. Ain’t a single person here has what it takes to put up with half the shit you and I do. We’d just have to teach ya to shoot with four fingers.”
His tone is lighthearted but there’s a hint of sincerity to his words that makes her cock her head in intrigue. He notices the change in her expression and quickly backpedals.
“Ah, don’t let that get to your head, now! I can barely tolerate ya most days. There’s just… no denyin’ you’re one of the best shots here,” he says, avoiding her eyes.
She smiles smugly and pats his chest.
“Tell me something I don’t know, cowboy.”
“Like I said, I can barely tolerate ya,” he says, swatting her hand off him. “Anyways, you mind takin’ that buck to Pearson? I need to have a word with Dutch about tomorrow.”
“Sure thing,” she says and slips past him to retrieve the fresh game. 
She hoists the buck over her shoulder and nearly gasps from the unexpected weight. The animal is nowhere near light and it’s a wonder he managed to cleanly take down the thing. He looks over his shoulder at the sound of her boot scuffling in the dirt as she steadies herself. 
She stumbles over to Pearson’s wagon and throws the carcass down on the ground. The cook is nowhere to be found so she figures she’ll save him the trouble and put her sharpened blade to good use. The knife cuts cleanly through the skin like warm butter, separating the hide from tender pink insides. As she’s making the final incisions, she looks up from the gruesome sight and sees Arthur talking to Dutch outside his tent. He seems relaxed enough, his hands resting on the buckle of his gun belt while he talks. It’s something he does often, just like someone might stuff their hands in their pockets for the sake of keeping them occupied. An endearing little action. And yet, for some reason, the common and utterly insignificant act of him doing this makes her forget herself. 
Maybe it’s the suggestion of him holding a different object hidden beneath the confines of denim, right below his loose grip. Because the longer she looks, a vision of him taking himself into a fisted hand begins to overshadow her mind. He’s lying in his cot, and while everyone else huddles together for warmth in their makeshift beds, he’s fucking his hand in the darkness of his tent. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is parted slightly, but no noise escapes his lips to save himself the mortification of someone walking past and overhearing. He quickens the pace of his pumping hand and breathes out a quiet, ragged moan as he coats his stomach with ropes of sticky seed. His chest heaves, then slows to normal before he wipes the evidence away with a worn shirt.
Arthur looks at her with a confused look on his face. He waves a hand slowly in mock greeting to rouse her from her dazed state. Dutch, mid-sentence, turns to look over his shoulder, but she averts her eyes before they can meet his. 
“Holy shit,” she whispers. She frantically finishes skinning the deer with her chin to her chest to hide the furious blush tormenting her cheeks. 
Once she’s finished, she practically sprints back to her tent before Arthur can ask her what her deal is. She closes the flaps hastily and goes to sit on the edge of her bed to collect herself. 
It’s not like she’s never fantasized about a person before, and she’s taken people to her bed more times than she can remember. This flustered feeling isn’t rooted in some virgin-like innocence, and yet she might as well be a pastor’s daughter with the way she’s blushing over it.
It’s because it’s him. He’s her partner. Her friend. Someone who’s grown to understand her better than she understands herself. She’s been the same person for him ever since they crossed paths in Montana all those months ago. Many feelings, albeit platonic, have come and gone since that fateful encounter, but lust? Lusting after a friend may be the most foreign feeling she’s stumbled upon in all her years of living. 
A griminess so thick and so palpable enshrouds her, weighing heavily, filthily, on her skin. And there’s only one solution that comes to mind.
She straddles the firmness between her thighs as it bounces rhythmically beneath her. A moan unintentionally escapes her lips in response to the merciless feeling down below. Her blouse sticks to damp skin and plasters itself lewdly against the curves of her stomach and chest as her hips rock back and forth. Another moan. This one more pained than the last.
Her thighs have always burned something fierce whenever she’d mount her horse directly after a bath. Soft, herbal-scented skin would grate against thick cotton of riding trousers, eliciting the pained gritting of teeth. But this time, the minor uncomfortable sensation is preferable, simple, compared to the complexities of her consuming thoughts from earlier. A hot bath was her saving grace as it turned out. It cleared her head and made her feel like her normal self again. Whatever thoughts she’d been having of her partner had been washed away and left behind at the bottom of the steel tub like some tainted baptism.
She rides through the trees that fringe the perimeter of camp and calls out to Javier, who stands guarding the entrance. He gives her a short wave, and nothing else. The two of them haven’t talked much, despite having ridden together for over a year now. Most of the men in camp tend to keep to themselves, she’s noticed. It’s a shame the talkative Irish man went and got himself killed in Blackwater. He knew how to have a good time. He always claimed the two of them were kindred spirits, but she heavily denied it each time since it read like an insult. 
She swings herself off the saddle and, like a moth to a lantern, migrates toward the fire to warm herself. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon and with it any amount of heat it provided, leaving her a shivering mess. Dinner bubbles inside the stew pot, prompting her to grab a portion before taking a seat on one of the logs.
The fire is reduced to glowing embers that do little to warm her bones. She nudges the logs with her boot but they just shift and plume ash. Sighing, she tugs closed the lapels of her coat and brings a spoonful of venison stew to her lips. The steaming broth slides down her throat and settles in her belly, making a furnace of her stomach. It’s a nice feeling, one that quiets her mind.
Suddenly, the log shifts as someone sits beside her. 
“Where’d you disappear off to?” He asks. “I couldn’t find ya anywhere.”
Arthur settles to sit hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, a bowl of stew in his hands. He’s wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt and a light jacket, but not much else to protect him from the cold. In fact, when she looks around, no one else seems to mind the chill as much as she does. Maybe Karen was right in calling her a baby.
“Nowhere special. I just had to go into town for a bit,” she says, taking another sip of the stew. 
He nods his head, “Had to go into town and get yerself a bath, huh?”
She turns sharply to look at him, her brows drawn together in confusion.
“I could smell the lavender oil the minute ya hitched yer horse,” he explains. “What’s that about? Are ya plannin’ on finally actin’ like a lady or somethin’?”
She shoves his shoulder with her free hand.
“Shut up Arthur. You act more like a lady than I do,” she accuses. “Also, it might do ya good to take a bath for once.”
That last part she says a little lower than the first. Sometimes when they’d be out on extended errands they’d bathe in the river together. But no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, the stench of cigarette smoke and sweat would linger in the closed tent when she lay beside him in her bedroll at night. She always put up with it though because it likely meant she didn’t smell much better.
“The hell’s that s’posed to mean?” He asks, looking visibly taken aback.
“It means you smell like—”
“Naw, not that. Whatchu mean I act like a lady?”
“Oh. It means you’re goin’ all soft, big guy. Take it as a compliment,” she says, trying to suppress a smile.
“Great. First Dutch, now you. I ain’t goin’ soft, girl. And I sure as hell ain’t turnin’ into a woman,” he says, looking away from her and shaking his head. “As if you even knew what it meant to be one. Look at yerself!” He adds with an indignant wave of his hand that gestures from the top of her head to her feet.
She doesn’t need to look. Her coat is crafted from bear and bison pelts, made to fit a man larger than herself because the trapper lacked the expertise to tailor one for a woman. It keeps her warm enough, which is all that should matter. Wearing clothes that flatter her figure ranks relatively low on her list of priorities when every day is a fight to not freeze to death. On top of that, folk have always been mighty eager to remind her of her femininity whenever she dared step outside the docile role of her fairer sex. Which, in her line of work, was often.
“I’ll have you know I consider myself an expert on the matter… ma’am.”
She starts to snicker but when she looks over at him his jaw is set and he’s giving her a side-eye that makes the noise die in her throat.
“Keep callin’ me a lady and see where it gets ya, woman. Y’ain’t gonna be laughin’ when I’m forced to prove myself to ya.”
If there was ever any heat being produced in her body, it's all gone and rushed to her face just now. She stares at him, unblinking.
“What?” 
“Mm, s’what I thought,” he says, bringing a spoon of potatoes and broth to his lips. “Now, if you’re done foolin’ around, are you comin’ with us tomorrow or not? Dutch said you might but I know you’ve got a lot on your plate as is.”
He said he’d prove himself to her. Prove that he’s a man. There’s hardly any innocent way to interpret that.
“Tomorrow?” She asks. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
He looks at her all funny-like, slightly annoyed even.
“Did you drink the bathwater or somethin’? The O’Driscoll told us they was all holed up in some cabin not far from here. Mentioned Colm is with’em. I only told ya about it a handful of times.”
She hears him but isn’t really listening. The phrase repeats on a loop in her head. She wants to ask him what he meant by it but the moment’s passed and she knows there’s no real answer. If asked, he’d just say he was teasing her and there’s nothing more to it. 
He calls her name, bringing her out of her stupor. She opens her mouth to say something but the wind picks up. A bone-rattling shiver possesses her, making her shrink inside herself. He stares at her, unphased by the chill but with concern etched into his handsome features.
“Sorry, Arthur. I- I don’t know where my head’s at,” she says through clenched teeth.
“S’Alright,” he says, looking her over. “I forget how sensitive you are to the cold.”
He sets his bowl on the ground and brings his hands to cup around his mouth, heating them with hot breath. He then takes her hands into his and clamps around them, transferring warmth to numb fingers.
“Jesus, you’re freezin’,” he says.
He brings her hands close to his mouth and repeats the same action, trying to warm them back to life with his breath. He presses into her palms, massaging heat from the pads of his fingers into hers.
Had he done this simple gesture for her yesterday, she likely would’ve just felt grateful to feel her fingers again. But today isn’t like yesterday. Yesterday, she wasn’t acutely aware of the ever-present moisture nearly dripping down her thighs or the dull, aching pain at her core as it practically begs to be filled by a man. Yesterday, she didn’t envision that man to be Arthur. She didn’t envision herself blissed out and bouncing on his cock, being guided by his hands gripping her ass and forcing her all the way down on him every time. She also didn’t visualize their sweating naked bodies pressed against one another as he hoists her legs around his waist and fucks her relentlessly against the side of his wagon. Yesterday was, without a doubt, much easier than today. Today she’d thought of all these things and more.
She watches attentively how he holds her slender fingers in the thickness of his own. Those hands have snuffed out the lives of many, brutally at that. She’d seen them wrapped around the necks of men, crushing their windpipes and severing their spines when he’d been provoked on the wrong sort of day. Lots of blood on those hands. But there’s just as much on hers and in this moment, those blooded hands are so tender towards her. 
If these same hands could kill without remorse, yet be so gentle when the time came for it, then by God, what else were they capable of?
She slips her hands out of his faster than she intended to.
“Thank you, Arthur,” she whispers, looking away.
“Sure. Maybe that’ll help ya to start actin’ normal again. Get the blood flowin’ to yer brain and such.”
If only he knew it was doing the opposite. Blood is flowing elsewhere and she’s the furthest from normal she’s been in a long while.
She stands up, leaving the bowl of stew unfinished on the ground.
“Here’s hoping,” she says, her hands clasped together to preserve his heat. 
Her boots crunch ice-bitten dirt loudly beneath their heels as she makes her way through the quiet camp and to her tent. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the flaps close shut behind her. 
“What… What is wrong with you?” she asks no one. Her tent is empty, and even though she wants to be alone, this is no comfort.
Her palms dig into the concave of her eye sockets, rubbing them furiously to wake herself up. She groans and shrugs off her coat, letting it collapse onto the floor. Her boots are kicked off her feet and her shirt is made quick work of before it’s thrown violently across the room. Her pants meet the same fate, being unbuttoned and kicked off, then kicked again so they lie atop the other garments. She collides with her mattress in a huff and lies there to stare at the ceiling of her tent, chest rising and falling rapidly.
She’s not going to be laughing when he’s forced to prove himself to her. 
Why is that phrase repeating over and over in her head? More importantly, why is she closing her eyes and slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her combinations?
She pauses. It’s wrong to do this. So wrong. To touch herself with visions of him in her head is sick. But she needs it so badly, so desperately she needs this to be taken care of. The throbbing at her core ultimately wins over her conscience, and forcefully pushes guilt to the side.
Her fingers slide between the delicate folds down below, the slick moisture coating her digits easily. She imagines it’s his hand. Large and warm, playing with her and teasing out moans by dancing around her clit. He asks her if it feels good, but only incoherent noises leave her lips. 
He chuckles and the breath of his laughter hits her center as he dips his head between her thighs. Lips replace fingers, sucking and leaving open-mouthed kisses heavy with tongue, ravishing her like a starved man. Her thighs clench around him and her calves tremble against his bare back. She whispers praises to him when she can find the words. 
Please keep going. You’re doing so good. So good.
Both of her hands tangle themselves in his hair. She can’t help but pull on the strands the minute he slides his thumb inside her all the way to the knuckle. Her back arches off the cot at the sudden sensation but he pulls her back down, locking her in with a hand wrapped around her thigh. She can feel him smile against her, momentarily letting up the relentless forces of his mouth. He’s loving watching her squirm beneath him, because of him. 
But the combined sensation of his thumb fucking her and the concentrated movements of his tongue at her clit nearly drive her to the edge. She squirms and brings her knees up around him, causing him to pull away and leave her empty.
Ya have to keep still, darlin’.
He coaxes her legs back open, spreading them apart with firm hands. But before he can return, she whispers desperate words that fall sweetly on his ears. He changes direction and begins to kiss his way north, traces of her still on his lips as they press wetly to her stomach, then her breasts, and then her neck. While he trails up her jaw, she tugs down his union suit from where it gathers at his hips. He assists her clumsily by shaking it off his legs and kicking it to the floor, where it now lies atop her own discarded clothing.
Before he takes her, he hovers on rested elbows and searches her face for any sign of reluctance. Only half of his features she can see clearly as warm oranges and yellows flicker across it from the lantern at her bedside. The fringe of his hair tickles her forehead, teasing her into closing the distance between them. With a hand on the back of his neck, she brings him down to her level and connects their lips. Their mouths move roughly against one another, their noses squishing and bending against the pressure of their touch. 
He’s warm, so warm. His mouth is hot against her tongue and the points on her body where the two of them meet are ablaze with a fire that spreads down, and down, until it rests in a sweltering mess at the apex of her thighs. She needs him, were the words she’d whispered. And she needs him now. She reaches down between their two bodies to where his cock grazes against her legs and with a sure hand, takes hold of it and guides it to her entrance. She can’t see it but it feels thick in her grasp; her hold not permitting thumb and forefinger to meet. 
The head slips gently inside and opens her up to him with a slow, shallow movement of his hips. He removes his lips from hers and rests his forehead against her own, looking down and indulgently watching himself disappear inside of her inch by inch. It fills her deliciously, stretching her open until he eventually bottoms out and their pelvises lie flush with one another. She lets out a sharp exhale at the contact, knowing he’s sheathed fully inside of her. Before he moves again, she brings her legs around his waist and crosses her ankles so his movements are limited to being shallow and forceful. 
The cot squeaks beneath them as he pulls out and thrusts back in, slow at first. He quickly picks up the pace, pistoling his hips to give short thrusts that fill her to the hilt each time with a near-bruising force. One hand wraps around the meat of her thigh and another hand starts rubbing furious circles at her clit. She throws her head back with a wide-opened gasp at the explosive euphoric sensation of being filled by him and the simultaneous attention given to the sensitive nub. He goes even faster when he sees how close she is, and within seconds she unravels beneath him. 
She notices through her clouded gaze his brows screwing together and lips parting as her soft muscles throb around the swell of his cock. It’s too much for him. He hurriedly pulls out and releases himself on her belly, coating it with spurts of his seed. He looks at her breathlessly through hooded eyes.
The two of them lie panting, him still stationed between her legs with a heaving chest and weary gaze. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh before slumping beside her and laying there in his nakedness.
She cums hard against diligent fingers. Hot and tingly ecstacy spreads from her core throughout her limbs, fluttering her eyes to the back of her skull and leaving her a panting mess. Once that passes and the drowsiness that always follows a dumbing climax sets in, she realizes she’d conjured a strange ending to her fantasy. It was one of genuine intimacy, not driven by the carnal desires of her body. 
Thankfully, sleep takes over before she can begin trying to process whatever that means. She drifts off as remnants of pleasure buzz beneath her skin and warm her beneath ticking sheets.
Morning comes quickly, and the accompanying chill of a new day forces her off the cot in search of heavier clothing. She pulls fleece-lined chaps over jeans and buttons them at the waist before throwing on the bear coat she’s worn every day since Colter. As she slips her arms into the clothing, she thinks back on last night. There’s no reason to make a big deal of it. Surely men get off with much worse ideas in their heads about the people they know. She hopes all of that is behind her now that it’s been forced out of her system.
But this is not the case. 
This hope is massacred in vain shortly after being conceived. For the day is ablaze with yearning, shame, and raging inferno. 
Accompanying Arthur to the hideout was soon realized as a mistake. Every small, inconsequential thing he did served to stoke the fire blistering her loins. Every word whispered atop the secluded hillock, every incidental brushing of skin, and every intentional one too. It all fanned incessantly at consuming flames.
She rides back to camp alone with heavy pockets and a heavier conscience. And as she approaches the grounds, she sees her friend, the blonde woman, standing guard outside. Without thought, she throws her reins and swings herself off the horse, hitting the earth hard and swift. A blustering storm brews inside her, fighting against fire and losing. She approaches Karen, treading heavily over branch and stone, a wild look in her eyes.
“Karen!” She calls out.
The woman turns to face her, her rifle lowering just as quickly as it’s raised.
“Oh, it’s just you. You here to tell me I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about again? If so, you can keep on walkin’, bigshot.” 
She sighs and runs a frustrated hand through her wind-tangled hair.
“No! No, I- I didn’t mean it,” she says, with an unmistakable sound of desperation in her voice. “Karen, you were right.”
Karen’s tensed shoulders sink beneath her coat and her features soften. She doesn’t seem to understand, but she’s no longer angry. It’s difficult to be when her friend stands before her, uncharacteristically vulnerable and fumbling with words.
Whatever forces are at work here, be it the chill, the moon, or an unknown third thing, it can be certain she is out of her depth, adrift in deep ice waters. And he is calling to her like a siren’s song but she knows it is an illusion she has conjured up and there is no solace allowed to be found there. He cannot take her like she needs so deeply to be taken by him. It would ruin them, for certain. Because they are not a wholesome people, and despite that, their bond has been forged by goodness. Something like that is uncommon for folk like themselves. It should be held closely, protected from whatever may destroy it, even if it is from herself. It’s for that reason she withdraws her hand, rides alone, averts wandering eyes, and tries her utmost best to quench the flames.
And yet, it has been only a day. 
“You were right.”
2K notes · View notes
johnpriceslamb · 5 days
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hey! i really love ur writing! are your requests open?? if they are would you maybe write another arthur x reader fic? maybe something with arthur introducing his new girlfriend to the gang for the first time? thank uuu!!😊
𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 ,
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❥ ˚₊‧ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself. ˚₊‧
𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ ❥ hyper-feminine ! reader ❥ female ! reader ❥ reader is mentioned to be physically shorter than characters mentioned below ❥ lovesick Arthur Morgan ❥ super-shy reader ❥ rugged cowboy bf x mini baker gf ❥ fluff ❥ Age gap implied ❥ 7k words ꒱
❥ arthur morgan x female! reader
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꒰🍰꒱ “SWEET GATEAU” Written in all bold, the colour pink, carved in cursive. The board swings heavily amidst the top of the pole that sticks out to show off the demure place.
That was the name of your workplace. Located in the most populated city in the state of Lemoyne, Saint Denis. It was an obvious spot for cakes and pastries, considering that the literal meaning of ‘Gateau’ was cake in French. It stands out from most buildings surrounding it as do the connected shops beside it- large windows to display the sweet delicacies of riches on little shelves for those to glance at when passing by.
More-so.. advertising then teasing, you'd say.
The comforting, delicious fragrance of vanilla extract fills the air. You have yet to work on other requests commissioned by customers, though you focus solely on this particular order. Mainly because it was the easiest and much quicker to prepare.
A simple sponge plain cake with vanilla icing. Couldn’t be too hard.
You’re quite tempted to take a little swipe of the wet cream and taste it yourself- fortunately your temptations resist yet again because of repetition and practice. tiktiktik does the whisk in your hand go as it constantly scrapes against the bowl, the mixture hardens and becomes more of a fluffy-like texture rather than a wet clump of nice smelling liquid.
The comforting sound of the fire crackles with faint embers floating amongst the brick-encased oven. Inside the oven lay two lovely little flat cakes. Just exactly twenty minutes ago you’ve bestowed them upon a wooden flat board to dish out near the heat to harden up.
“Ten more minutes..” You mumble to yourself. Enough time to finish whisking the vanilla icing and pour into a pipe-bag.
You admire the prettiness of the sweet-tasting icing which was coated inside the surface of the bowl, before glancing at the paper-filled request again to make sure that you’ve been following the guide correctly. Thankfully enough, the woman who requested the small two layered cake wrote it on a piece of paper rather than verbally out loud. Her hand-writing was lovely, and so was she. At the end of the piece of paper, her signature was written out—
‘Mary-Beth. :-). Please do not forget the cherry on top !!!!’
You can’t help but giggle softly at the absurd amount of exclamation marks she wrote down. She was quite bubbly, and that lady was- very excited. From the looks of her- you were just at least a year or so younger than her. You remember she adorned a long skirt, dark pink in colour.. with her hair in a half down half updo. Freckles prettily placed on her skin. You recall stating to come pick up her order at around 8 in the morning tomorrow. The clock strikes 6 A.M. Two more hours until she can pick up her cake!
Long, dewy lashes tinker at the sound of the bells at the door jingling as a person enters. You were quick on your feet, miniature ribbon-tipped slippers softly tapping on the ceramic floor of this building, curiously peeking your dainty head from the corner. Another rich man seemed to peer around curiously at all the pastries and such inside, pondering if he should buy a few sweets. You weren’t one to really socialise, neither was he- from the looks of it. You could only offer the sweetest smile you could etch onto your face and shyly nod as he turned to you to acknowledge you, before returning back to the kitchen hidden from customers to work on the cake.
He could just ring the bell on the front counter to get your attention.
It was common for people to enter the little bakery, though at around 10-2 is when chatter becomes louder and you become more frantic.
And with that- ten minutes has passed. You clumsily get the cakes out of the oven and place it on the kitchenette's bench. Hot and rough-looking around the edges.. You could probably cover it up with the icing.
Before you do, you cover the first layer with the fluffy icing, before plopping the second layers on. This job was very therapeutic, you considered.
Droop does the vanilla sweetening go as you drown the plain cake with the sweet icing. Delicate swipes of a butter knife allowing it to smoothen amongst the hardened surface of the spongy delicacy. Plop! One little swirl of icing on top. And another.. and another.. Until it surrounds the whole edge of the cake. Oh, don’t forget! One big swirl in the middle of the cake, where the cherry shall be placed upon.
You can’t help but decorate the sides with little frosted hearts, the piping bag in your hand ever so sturdy as it squeezes most of the remaining out and onto the lovely decorated cake.
Was the decoration necessary? No, not really. But did it make you feel bubbly? Yes.
Ding!
You hear the sound of the silver bell reverberating against the metal itself just a few times from outside the kitchenette. You blink a few times, before toddling out and back at the counter. Seemed like the man from earlier had already decided on what to buy.
The sound of your meek, tiny voice can be heard echoing about and bouncing back to you. It was rather empty, considering that it was 6 in the morning-
“Welcome to Sweet Gateau! Where all your tastebuds experience sweet wonder and satisfaction. How may I help you?” Recitation of the same line allows you to memorise the whole thing completely. Sometimes you do change it up a bit just to have a bit of fun.
The man blinks at you.
He looks around before narrowing his eyes at you, sizing you up- albeit.. confused.
You want to ask what's wrong, did he perhaps get the shops wrong?
Perhaps it was his old eyes, or the way he perceived people by appearance. Maybe the tuft of pink on your uniform, or maybe the way you style your hair with ribbons and such. But looking at you, you looked as if you were just a..
“...Does this business support child labour?”
You stammer.
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꒰🍰꒱ You are not one to argue with customers. Or argue at all.
But you’ve had to greatly convince the man that this place does not in fact, recruit people under the age of fourteen to work. He stumbles over his words as he realises that you were not actually in early adolescence, and to affirm his apology, he tips you a dollar. The wooden door which was pulled back allows the sweet little bells hung on top to jingle gently yet again as you see his retreating form with the paper bag of biscuits and sugary delicacies.
You smile happily. Another customer satisfied! though.. confused.
The clock strikes 7. One more hour until the lady can pick up her cake.
With a hum that sounded more like a serenade, you pack the cake into a small frilly-looking box, a sort of see-through material shaped in an oval which was built inside the frail box to allow the person to see the decorated cakes. Your beady eyes shimmer at the leftover frosting inside the piping bag.. maybe you could just have a little..
Your temptations are yet again disrupted by a flood of customers coming in. It was a Saturday, of course people were shopping at early dawn. The small crowd amidst the bakery mainly consisted of young ladies in friend groups admiring the pretty delicacies around, rich elderly retrospectively adorning the sweets from their childhood.
A squeak and a babble of incoherence once many line up, you're quick on your tippy toes to heat a tea-pot up with water near the brick-encased oven and organise many distributions of loose tea leaves.
Sometimes, you wonder if people did genuinely acknowledge their health since eating cakes and biscuits and other sweet stuff in the early morning wasn't really considered the healthiest breakfasts. Though, at least you earned a fair paycheck at the end.
A pretty smile feigned on your face until your apple-blossomed cheeks strained, as you recited the line over and over again to many customers who pointed at the delicacies they wanted to buy and eat. The fragrance of chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, it swirls into one and becomes a potent scent which drives more and more to eat up. You can’t help the giddy smile and the apple-blossom swelling with colour on your cheeks as you shyly peer at everyone who eats the pastry with delight. You’ve baked a few of the treats that linger in the bakery, and the soft moan at the end of the bite which signifies great pleasure in eating your own baked sweets allows your tummy to flutter with butterflies.
The tip jar starts to slowly fill every ten minutes. Quarters shine and tinker within the glass container, bidding every donation with a pleased 'thank you!' and a little wink. 
It’s been an hour or so. Mary-Beth has yet to pick up her cake. 
As if on cue, the bells attached on-top of the door chimes, producing the same little melodic drag. You look up to see the lady you were thinking about! Mary-Beth, if you recall correctly. You wave at her with a happy smile, and she reciprocates with a big grin obviously excited to see the order. From behind her slightly taller figure in comparison to you was followed by three more ladies, admiring the shop with a soft coo and a gasp.
“I told y'all this bakery was cute!” Said-woman falls with a bemused smile on her face.
“Twenty-five cents for a whole brownie! What a catch,” One nudges another.
“It has caramel in it!! C’mon Abigail, we oughta!” The lady with blonde hair almost whines, “It’ll be a good surprise for lil’ Jack!”
“Mh, I don’t know Karen..”
Mary-Beth eagerly comes to the counter, her dark rosetta coloured skirt swishing around as she does. “Hello, miss [name]!”
You smile in return, wiping your powered-up hands on your frilly light-pink apron, “Hi, Miss Gaskill. Your vanilla glazed cake is done. Are you here to eat in or to take out?” As nimble as you were, you can’t help but be comforted by the lady’s presence. A sunshine amongst a field of closed sun-flowers.
She almost seemed surprised at your words. Perhaps the usual shops that she went in did not offer such things. She ponders, before calling out to the three women who still stare at all the sweets on display, arguing with each other whether or not they should buy a few sweets, “Would you all mind quieting down!?” 
You can’t help but softly giggle under your breath.
You patiently wait for Mary’s answer, that small grin still plastered on your face.
“Hm..” She hums, “Do you perhaps have spare plates and serviettes..?” She meekly asks.
“Of course!” You nod sweetly, “Give me a moment to prepare a table would you?” “Oh! Okay,” She beams. 
As you pass by, all of the girl’s bid you a “hi!”, “lovely place!”  “hello!” You respond to them with a wave and a smile.
“She’s very pretty,” The black-haired girl whispers to Mary-Beth. She nods immediately at her response.
“She really is,” She agrees, “So lovely too! I think she's got to be the nicest girl I've ever met in Saint Denis.”
As the chatter in the bakery by other folks becomes a tad bit louder, you're too busy preparing four serviette-adorned plates. You nod to the lady waiting, she bickers with the others and allows them to toddle on over and take a seat. The legs of the chair scrape at the floorings below, some are mindful about the fact and instead of dragging it, they slightly elevate it to eliminate the scratchings.
“Oh! Right, would you like me to cut the cake?” You graciously ask.
She smiles and politely nods, “Yes please!” 
Their prattling drowns out in silence as you waddle away back in the kitchenette to cut the cake.
Mary-Beth smiles at the other girls.
“So? How do y’all like it here?”
“It’s real fancy in here,” Abigail responds calmly, “Real pretty, though.”
“Mhm. Anywho.. How much did you pay for the cake?” Her blonde haired friend asks. She fiddles with the napkin on the plate, before placing it beside the food holder. She inhales the scent of the bakery, sighing sweetly.
She sheepishly grins, “Err.. five dollar.”
“I— Mary-Beth! My goodness..”
“Tilly, I promise you. It’s gon’ be real good!” She nudges the girl in the yellow dress.
"I better see miracles happening once I take a bite out of the cake," Karen- the blonde haired woman scoffs, allowing herself to get comfortable in the chairs. The two women beside her softly giggle at her bluntness.
The bold, sweet odour of the sugary vanilla glacé hits their nose, arriving with a slight wiggle inside the box as you carefully place it in the middle. Mary-Beth was the first to gently take the lid off, she gasped at the small decorations at the side. Little piped hearts.. "My, oh my.."
"Now, ain’t that just the cutest little thing i’ve ever seen?" Tilly coos.
You do a little curtsey, tipped with a sugary smile and doll your wispy lashes. "Enjoy, ladies!"
"Ah ah, wait a moment now- hold on!" Mary-Beth frantically stammers and tries to get your attention with a squeak once your small back is turned to them. It does, fortunately.
You turn back around, curious. Your head is slightly tilted to embody your confusion, beady eyes staring at the ladies whom seem to also want to keep you back here.
"I've seen you runnin' all about and uhm.. Do you ever take breaks, miss?" She curiously asks.
You blink. Was she offering..?
"I do," You respond truthfully, albeit shyly.
She sheepishly smiles, "Would you perhaps.. Like to enjoy this with us?"
You stammer, "I-I uhm, I'm not sure about that-"
The woman in blonde cuts you off, "Awh, c'mooon! C'mere and sit, girl. You need a damn break."
You hesitate again. "No, really-"
"Ahh, give us a break- c'mere now!" She cuts you off easily. The one whom insisted on you sitting down with them grabs a chair from an empty table, before easily plopping you down.
"What's yer name, lil' lady?" She asks with a smile.
You grin with a docile muse, saying hi to the other girls, "It's [name]."
"Ooh! Purdy name for an even purdier girl." She cheekily pats your pixie-like shoulder. Your cheeks pop with colour at her low-toned flirting
"I'm Karen, that's Tilly, Abigail, and of course, Mary-Beth. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, little miss [name].”
Another girl pipes up, “Do you work here all alone, [name]?” Tilly— the one with the pretty yellow sundress asks with interest. She admires the interior of the building, how the edges of the roof had little floral pastry designs, on-going around the whole building and to the hidden kitchenette behind.
“Mhm!” You nod. Abigail raises her brows up, leaning slightly on the table. She has the mother-like aura which makes you feel ever-so giddy. She’s hushed in her tone, worried that she might make a scene if she spoke too loud, “Excuse me for intrudin’ but.. Ain't you a little… too young to be running this store all by yourself?”
“Ah!” Your cheeks become darker in hue. “I’m of legal age to work, miss. It’s just the frills ‘n the bows.”
Tilly was the first to serve herself a slice. She takes a small bite from the sweet delicacy, icing oozing out inside as she lets out a delightful hum. She finishes chewing it, before her eyes twinkle and she turns to you, “My goodness! And you baked this all by yourself?”
“Uhuh, I’m so glad you like it.” You clasp your hands together happily. Mary-Beth is eager to get a slice, then Abigail, then Karen.
“Okay, maybe the dollar was kind of worth it for this cake..” Karen mumbles quietly, poking her fork at the sweet cake.
Mary-Beth cheekily nudges Tilly’s shoulder, “Seeee? I knew you’d like it.”
You look around, noting yourself that you should give them something to drink to drown that sucrose-filled treat. You excused yourself from the table, the little frills etched on the back of your small skirt bobbling about like a tiny princess toddling about. You’re quick to bringing a teapot over, with a few porcelain-like cups stacked on top as you gently place it on the table.
“Wait- er.. Does the tea cost extra?” Mary-Beth asks, raising a finger before lowering it down as it catches your attention.
You raise a brow, “It’s free.”
“I could quite literally kiss you right now,” She beams, allowing you to pour the hot tea in the cups which were given out to the women around.
The overall vibe amongst the interior was pleasant. The small, gossamer-bunched bonnet on your head tilts a bit as you lean down to tip the fragile teapot.
As you carefully pour the hot liquid, you hear them conversing with each other as usual. Though you tend to take a blind eye- or ear in this case, you can’t help but be a tad bit curious to their little gossip.
“D’you reckon we should’ve invited Molly over?” Abigail asks.
“Oh- Maybe. I feel like she'll like it here, but I also have this feeling she’ll just fan herself away and give us nasty looks the whole time.” Tilly mumbles, delicately cooing out a 'thank you' as you poured a cup of tea for her. The tea swishes and sloshes against the cup as she drinks from it with her pinkie out.
Karen snorts, "You're so right. Just one touch from Dutch, and she's ready to take over the world. Miss primp and polish she is till' mister Dutchie doesn't give her a lick of affection."
Mary-Beth gasps softly, "Karen!" She calls her name as if to scold her, only for a small chuckle to follow after.
Your curiosity is visible, but you don't say anything. You're one to entertain gossip, but you aren't one to prod- considering that you've only met these lovely ladies.
They finished the small cake in another hour. Currently, you were situated behind the mini counter serving a few customers amongst the treats they wanted to buy.
"Ah, that was real good." Abigail wipes her mouth with the napkin provided, in a more rushed sense- an underlying feeling that she wasn’t so used to these kinds of etiquette.
"Maybe we should buy sumthing! We ain't gonna visit 'Denis for a while unless if we like- beg Arthur or sumn' to come wit', so I reckon we should give ourselves a little treat after all the things we've been through."
"We should buy them caramel brownies.."
"C'mon, c'mon! Lets get it then," Karen ushers Tilly and Abigail out of their seats once they've finished up, Mary-Beth following after with a giggle.
"[name]! These brownies cost twenty-five cents a bar don't they?" Mary-Beth calls out, pointing at the display at the front. Oozing with caramel delight, encased with a delicious chocolate coating which makes her swoon at the beautiful sight.
"It does, yes." You nod with a shy smile.
"Goodness, [name]. These prices are kinda high.. Reckon' you can give us a lil'.. discount? Y'know! Since we're friends!" Karen winks.
You shyly ponder, "Mhh.. Alright, why not?" As said before, you weren't really one to argue. Besides, they were sweet girls.
"Woo-hoo!" They cheer with a giggle, before eagerly grabbing the little tong at the side to grab a slice.
"A bar of brownie.. 20 cents." You bargain.
Karen shrugs, "Good enough." And she hands you the coins.
You hear them all bidding you a good-bye, and a cheeky "Expect to see me here again!!"
The door closes, and you're left with the constant conversations on-going. You stare at the shining coins placed in your hands, and can’t help the pleasurable feeling of gentle-tipped joy flood your tummy.
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꒰🍰꒱ Morning dawn comes.
Another day at the bakery.
You rise slowly from your beauty sleep. The silky gossamer curtains flow slightly from the wind, as the sun shines pink and yellow lights from the half open windows of your room. The wood creeks beneath your light footsteps as you grumble on to get ready for the morning.
Lazy pats of coloured light pink powder is gently flushed against your cheeks, the small ribbon-tipped brush rattles because of the amount of use it's been through. Your hair is done prettily, silky bows attached to the side which matches the coloured powder you put on your dewy face. It takes you a tad longer to arrange your morning routine into a real situation, until you're out of the door and walking on the path to the bakery.
Pushing past the entrance, you hear those bells chime a little ballad that was always memorable and will never be forgotten.
Though it may be a nuisance to look at the same things constantly, you are always reminded that this place was a safe-zone for anyone or anything. Mainly because at the entrance hangs a low sign on the door handle that entrees prohibit the use of weapons and must take it off before entering the store.
Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted as the entrance opens to the same women from yesterday. Though, two older men are accompanying them from behind, albeit.. begrudgingly.
"-I don't think this store is the right thing f' me.." He grumbles, you can see from behind the counter that Abigail was holding his hand, perhaps her lover. She glares and hisses at him, pinching his arm. "Quiet, you."
"Y'sure this place sells them biscuits I like?" The one in dirty blonde seemed low-key embarrassed to be in here, scratching at his head as he looks around. His hat is tilted to obscure his eye-sight. Your curious eyes widen a bit as his own stares at yours. You quickly avert your eyes with a soft blush etched on your cheeks.
"They sell all kinds of sweets 'n' delicates," Tilly pipes up, slightly hitching her long skirt up with her thumb and index finger. Shoes clack gently against the floral-designed tiles, eyes wandering around the familiar place. "I'm sure you'll find those dumb biscuits you keep talkin' about!"
"[name]!!" Mary-Beth was the first to run to the counter with a giddy smile, "Told ya I'd be coming back."
You have a small smile on your face, "Welcome back, miss Gaskill!" You do a tiny curtsey with your frill-bunched apron and skirt.
She giggles, "Goodness, [name]. You are too cute for your own good."
She perks up, "Ah! We brought a few friends over. This here's John," She points to the man who grumbled a 'hi', crossing his arms. He clearly does not want to be here. The woman who clings onto his arms scolds him quietly for being so ‘impolite’. You hide your lips behind your hand to stifle your soft giggle.
“That’s Arthur.” Mary-Beth points to the man who looks at the biscuits section. Topped with a black shirt and a vest which had a unique design, he seemed.. very determined to find those biscuits he mentioned earlier when entering the bakery. He looks around curiously, the little flower-y paint-job is something he expected for a small little bakery like this one here.
He’s holding onto his belt whilst striding to the counter lazily, before curiously looking at you. Cold, dark eyes peer at you like a lone wolf about to catch it’s prey for lunch. You meekly shrink just a bit as you feel him size you up with his daring gaze.
“Howdy, miss.” He greets casually.
You slowly nod, very shy with your greeting. Your quiet voice echoes loudly in his ears. He unconsciously has to lean just a bit to even hear you. “Hello, welcome to sweet Gateau..” A smile forms on your face as you see his brows relaxing slightly at your harmless form. Suddenly, he’s as bashful as a kid being told off for causing a ruckus. He looks around with a narrowed gaze, before looking back at you. A soft grunt escapes his lips.
“..Do ya’ll make uh.. Osborne biscuits?” He asks in a low tone.
You brighten up.
“Oh! Yes we do. Would you like a bag?” You ask with that same pixie-like smile which makes him soften up even more. Something.. catches his eye. He’s not sure what though.
“Ah, um.. Yes please, miss.” He tilts his head to obscure his eyes from your view.
You mumble a little ‘excuse me,’ to push yourself off your shoes to retrieve his request. He watches the way your fluffy-frilled skirt bobbles up and down.
Very.. cute.
A tap to his shoulder, and a soft snicker catches his attention. He turns around.
“Whuh.. What?” Arthur blinks at the three ladies who stare at him with a big grin. He was stunned at the abnormal behaviour they were currently showing off.
“Yer cheeks are real red.” Mary-Beth comments. Tilly has to hide her soft chuckle with her hand the corner of her eyes becoming alike of a crows feet to acknowledge her amusement.
“They are?” He quirks a brow, crossing his arms. Though imposing, he’s as docile as a lamb when it comes to the ladies, “Yer jokin’ with me.”
“Are not!” Karen laughs, “Don’t tell me you like her already. Ya’ll only just met!”
Arthur looks defensive, he narrows his eyes at the women in-front of him. “The hell you talkin’ bout?” He rests on the soles of his feet, nervously looking around. Anywhere but in their eyes.
“It’s as plain as daylight, cowpoke. No shame in hidin’ it, she’s real cute.”
Unaware of their conversations lingering in the background, you come back with the bag of Osborne biscuits. located within a transparent plastic bag and secured with a ribbon. A sticker in the middle with the bakery's emblem on it It rests delicately in your palm as you blithely toddle up front. The chatting suddenly ceases when you return.
“Apologies for taking a while,” You apologise sweetly, placing the biscuits on the counter. He brightens up entirely at the cute packaging of the biscuits he was craving for for so long.
“Don’t sweat it,” He opens the satchel hanging over his shoulder, “How much?”
“Fifty cents for a bag.” You watch him throw a few coins onto the counter. You smile sweetly, counting the coins before placing them inside the cash register. The swelling of your cheeks become just a tad bit more prominent as his fingers linger on yours to grab the bag out of your hand once you push it lightly in his direction.
You do a tiny curtsy. So much alike of a princess who expresses their gratitude to a king. “Thank you for ordering!”
He could only nod, scratching at his stubble as he awkwardly looked away. “Yeah. Uh.. No problem.”
“Do we really needa be feedin’ Jack all this? He’s gon’ be diabetic once he grows up if we keep feeding him this stuff..” John and Abigail bicker in the background which catches both of your attention. You can’t help the amused smile on your face at his comment. Though he was trying to be quiet, these walls echoed right back at you.
“Are.. They always like this?” You can’t help but question the sweet- or.. something couple from the back. It was cute in your eyes. Arthur can’t help the grin forming on his face.
“Their way of showing love I guess,” He leans on the counter with the biscuits in his hand. Then, he slowly turns his head to you, “Er.. What’s yer name?”
“[name],” You squeak in response to the handsome man.
He blinks. Without hesitation, he says with a soft hum— “Purdy name.”
Your cheeks become the same pigment of powder you apply on your temples. You look down at the ground, your hands behind your back as you can’t help the giddy smile on your face, “Thank you..”
Arthur is curious to learn more. He's fascinated by the personality you portray. With a pixie-like physique and a timid mindset akin to a doe, a stark contrast to his.
“How uh.. How long have you been workin’ here? In sweet..” He pauses awkwardly, trying to think of a way to say the final word in a mumble without looking or sounding ignorant.
“Gateau,” You finish his sentence for him with a light smile. He’s thankful that he didn’t hear a soft giggle at the end. Perhaps you were trying to save him from looking pitiful. Or maybe you were really just a decent-hearted girlie.
You do not notice the way the other ladies looked back at you and Arthur with a cheeky smile.
“Ah, yeah. Sweet Gateau,” He clears his throat with an oafish, low beam.
You can’t really remember the exact date you started working in this petite patisserie, but you give him a rough estimation of when you started. He nods with an interested hum, seemingly curious about your story. He didn’t seem like a man who would indulge in small-chat. But for you, he did.
“We’re leavin’, Arthur! We all got what we wanted!” One of the women calls out to him, causing him to be startled at the abrupt calling.
He clears his throat shyly again. “Ah.. Um.. I should get goin’. Only came here to see if ya’ll had ‘em in stock. Glad you guys did.” His words were nothing but gentle- waving even. As if Arthur didn’t want to leave just yet. You nod kindly, letting a tiny blossom of adoration to slowly develop inside your tummy. 
“Come back next time,” You faintly add, shyly waving at him with a sweet beam. 
He has a low smile, “Oh, I will.”
Your heart stammers a bit.
The door closes. The sound of multiple footsteps creaking amongst wooden floorboards is heard.
John’s looks at the cowpoke who strides next to him. He’s careful not linger near the dirt-path, noting to himself to not get his boots so dirty. A nudge to his arm is what gets Arthur away from his thoughts.
“What the hell was that?”
Arthur glowers. “What’s what?”
“Don’t play dumb, cowpoke. Saw how you looked at ‘er.”
“I don’t know what yer’ talkin’ about.”
The conversation ends there. Either John was becoming frustrated with his ignorance his words were stuck in his throat, or he gave up entirely to persuade the man’s attraction to the girl behind those doors.
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꒰🍰꒱ To your utmost surprise, Arthur Morgan slowly yet surely becomes a common face within Sweet Gateau.
It’s not to say he was unwelcome in the premises, rather more.. how should you say this, amusing to say the least.
A man who stands firm and tall at a whopping 6’4 in height, who carries a gun at his side with a rifle almost as big as you- with a sharp gaze that could pierce your heart as quick as a glance in your direction, stands in a small bakery with light pink fairy-like cakes and floral themed walls. Perched up on a table with his little snack whilst scribbling down things on that journal he always took. You wonder what he writes about.
With his constant visits, it’s clear that you’ve down packed his order to your brain.
Osborne biscuits with a small cup of coffee.
You wonder if that man likes to torture himself with such blandness. No sugar, no milk, just coffee. It’s as bitter as it can be- if you can smell that bittersweet scent from just a few centimetres away.
Sometimes he would come up to you for a small chat to probably make you feel less lonely as you sweep away at a dusty corner for a few minutes straight. Other times he would just mind his own business, munching away on those plain biscuits he always orders.
It’s been a few weeks since seeing the other girls. Sometimes you ask Arthur to say hi to them for you, and he always comes back with a lazy grin saying that they miss you and hope you’re doing well despite only knowing each other for a few days.
The bell rings up front.
You know it’s him from the way he slowly strides to the counter, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as a faint jingle of spurs become evident the more he walks closely.
You truly cannot help the blossoming smile which etches on your face.
“Good afternoon, Mister Morgan. Welcome to sweet Gateau,” You welcome him with a slight lean on the counter. You can’t help that cheeky expression, “The usual?”
“Y’know me.” He nods at your words, “The usual, please.” Baritone and deep, his voice was. It almost sends a shiver down your spine.
You watch him turn his back to go sit at one of the more secluded spots in the bakery, deep into a corner. A diary in hand, with a pencil busily being worn down on the papers. The sounds of led scratching at the fibres of the white expansion of pages is heard easily from afar. It’s calming to say the least.
You’re quick with the order, almost giddy as you place the plate of those plain biscuits on his table with his bitter coffee. He gives you a small ‘thank ya’ kindly.’ before returning back to his sketching on something.
In just under twenty minutes will the bakery close. It’s quiet, with only a few people including Arthur relaxing in the wooden chairs placed within the interior.
You’re busy within the kitchenette, allowing the brick-encased oven to be put out completely. Washing up all the equipment you’ve used to make and create such food, soapy bubbles floating everywhere. The sounds of the door opening and closing is heard, many of the customers served leaving with a small tip inside that jar of yours up front.
Slowly yet surely, you wipe down the benches of the kitchenette before putting the rag back down. You walk up to the counter with a soft yawn from the tiring day.
A soft clearing of a throat catches your attention. You blink a few times and see Arthur.
“Oh! I thought you would’ve left a while ago,” You smile. Though you’re not very keen on customers staying five minutes before closing time, you’ll be very glad to make an exception for Arthur.
“Sorry, uh..” He awkwardly scratches at the back of his head, “Reckoned It’d be better to give this to you in private.”
You tilt your head sweetly, almost puppy-like. His heart squeezes at the simple yet innocent gesture. What was he giving you?
With that, he hands you a piece of paper, folded in half just once with a small heart at the corner. Your eyes light up immediately, as you shyly take the piece of paper- one which was from his diary he probably torn off, considering that one edge of the paper was bumpy and rough.
You mumble out a shy ‘thank you’, very curious and opening it with one simple hand gesture.
You feel like the luckiest girl alive.
A pretty led-based sketch of you. You were drawn with your usual frilly outfit on, the bakery drawn in the background. He drew every single detail on your face so accurately, it sort of amazes you. The small beauty mark was in the correct spot, with your eyes big and sparkly.
You softly gasp, putting a small hand over your mouth to not look like a dummy in front of him, “Arthur..”
“It ain’t the best but..” He averts his gaze, “I couldn’t help but draw ya. You just looked..” Pretty. Beautiful. Adorable. Cute. “—..Lovely.”
“Ain’t the best?” You scoff. “This is so beautiful, Arthur. Y—You got the bow, too! And the outfit, and the background..” You beam sweetly.
“Thank you so much,” You keep the drawing close to your chest. You note to yourself mentally to buy a picture frame, “This is so beautiful, Arthur. I love it!”
He holds his gaze low, cheeks slowly burning from the praise you squeaked out. He awkwardly shifts, before bidding you a goodbye.
You open the piece of paper one last time, flipping it over to see a message written in cursive which read:
‘Kinda weird to write this but I heard you were free tomorrow. Would you like to walk around the park nearby with me? I’ll probably be around there at 8 in the morning, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. —A.M ◡̈’
For a man like him, you’d never thought his handwriting was alike of a fairy tale novel.
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꒰🍰꒱ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself.
You are very adamant in looking like a right pixie for today.
Last night you could not get much sleep because of the excitement your heart held. You were dying to meet Arthur again without being in the same frilly uniform you always wore, a face coated with powder not from your beauty products but from pastries you make and serve.
You adorn a floral patterned dress, with a pretty pearl necklace. The hat you wore was similar to a southern belle darling sun-hat, but less brim and less flowers, a simple laced bow tied around the rim instead. And of course, your signature laced bows clipped in your hair.
As pretty as a porcelain doll you were.
Your ballerina-like flats click gently on the cemented pavement down towards the park. The scent of steam and machine slowly transition to more of a petrichor-like smell as you near the park.
There he was, standing around the entrance, admiring the flowers from beyond. You can’t help the soft giggle escaping your lips as he looked behind him and went immediately silent at the sight of your beauty. It was almost coincidental on how the flowers around gently wavered by and shined more brighter once you passed by with a shy smile.
“Hi,” You greet him softly- almost too gentle for his liking. Your hands are positioned behind your back, with the soles of your feet resting on the ground as you tilt your head to maintain eye contact with him. You notice his hair was slicked back a bit, and his attire was more cleaner than usual.
“Hey,” He replies back. He lends out an arm for you to hold, and you do so happily. He looks everywhere but your direction.
He clears his throat with a bit of hesitancy. “Thought you weren’t comin’. Hell, I thought you didn’t even see the message I wrote on the back.”
“Why wouldn’t I go?” You smile eagerly, “It’s nice to be somewhere else for a change. Being cooped up in that bakery can sometimes make me feel dizzy.” That was the longest sentence he’s ever heard you mutter.
“I reckon smelling the same sweets over ‘n’ over again would make ya go crazy” He replies cheekily. His eyes size you up again. Slowly yet surely. A little fairy you were, with beauty no other. He opens his mouth to say something, anything- but he slowly shuts it.
And suddenly, he builds up enough courage to say something.
“You look.. Real pretty.” He quietly mutters. Lovely doe-like eyes stare up at him again- and how quick did his knees almost buckle was a good comparison to his latest duel.
“..You think I look pretty?”
He slowly nods, scratching at the stubble on his chiselled jaw with his other hand, “The prettiest.”
He’s not sure if the glittering pink powder on your cheeks becomes more prominent as seconds pass by. He watches you slowly become sheepish and giddy under his sharp gaze. You fight the curled corner of your lips to turn downwards, but alas you give up immediately as you quite literally melt under his touch.
You shyly stutter out a small “Thank you.” The grip on his arm becomes just a tad bit tighter.
The silence was nothing but comfortable despite it being a bit awkward at the start. After his compliment, you can’t help that fluttering feeling of love bursting inside, up in the skies lays an imaginary cherubim whom shoots those heart-shaped arrows quickly into your heart as you glance at him another time.
And it seemed that the cherubim shot his arrow in his heart, too.
“I loved that drawing you made f’ me yesterday,” You mutter. High-pitched yet so soothing in tone- was your voice. Almost mellifluous, like a serenade similar to those soft jingles heard in the entrance of the bakery, “I never knew you could draw.”
He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, figured. I don’t really look like the type to draw, do I?”
“No, not really.” You softly giggle, “But it’s.. it’s cute.” The way your tone changes pitch at the end makes him conclude of how your intentions were supposed to be.
He quirks a brow. A slow smirk curling on his face.
You catch on immediately. Your cheeks become the same pigment of blush you used, “I-I didn’t mean it like that—”
His soft laugh interrupts you. “No, no. I get ya, I get ya.”
You can’t help but look away from embarrassment. Just a few minutes in and he’s unconsciously teasing you.
“Hey.. Look at me.” He narrows his eyes at your little show.
You don’t.
“C’mooon, it ain’t such a big deal..” He’s about to grab your chin to make you look his way. Though his hand backs away when he sees those beady eyes of yours slowly coming back to maintain eye contact.
He smiles unconsciously at your sweetness. “Yeah. Good girl.”
He unconsciously brushes your cheek with his thumb. You puff your cheeks out immediately, heart hammering in your chest at the title. You cross your arms in-front of your chest, hand resting on your fore-arm. He quietly notes to himself how pretty your hand would be if a ring was seen on your ring finger.
Suddenly, you feel your heart drop. You want to say something, anything.
“Arthur?” Your hand suddenly goes to his sleeve, tugging it softly to get his attention.
“Mhm?” He responds, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.
Suddenly, you feel like your tongues all tied up inside your mouth. Your mind is in shambles and you’ve suddenly forgotten every word in the English dictionary as his pretty eyes stare at you as if you were an ethereal being.
“I.. er,” You fiddle with the small frills of the end of your dress, “N—nevermind.”
“Hey, now.” He comes a bit closer with that boyish charm smile. The faint scent of hair pomade and wood makes you swoon just a bit more, “You can’t just back off like that, c’mon.. tell me.”
“I..” You hesitantly start off. “What.. What are we, Arthur?”
He seemed to be a bit caught off guard with the abrupt question. You catch onto his quietness, and immediately you shrink out of embarrassment. You feel ashamed, flustered for even asking that!
You dare try to look at him in the eyes once more, “I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t apologise.”
You slowly blink when he cuts you off.
He’s a bit difficult to read at this moment as he processes his words. He looks at you a few times, gosh did his heart beat fast.
Then, he slowly opens his mouth. “I.. I ain’t so sure myself. But I just..” He takes a deep breath, “I like you, a lot. Yer a real lovely girl, a good girl. But you shouldn’t be with a man like me, miss.”
You feel yourself falter, “Wh— What? Why?”
He shakes his head. He’s hesitant. He doesn’t want to answer, but for your sake he does.
“I.. ain’t a good man, [name].” He tries to explain to you. “Never was in the start. ‘N I don’t want you gettin’ into trouble just cuz people seen you with me.”
You narrow your eyes, allowing him to continue on and elaborate. You feel like the happiest woman alive, but the saddest.
“I’m..” He looks around to see if anyone was listening, and he leans in just a bit, “I’m an outlaw, sweetheart.”
“…And?”
He’s taken aback once again. The garden amongst you quietens as soon as you uttered out that single word. You feel awfully thankful because of the fact that no one was around you.
You feel like this’ll be the most stupidest decision in your life. Your heart and brain yearns for the man that stands in front of you, who holds you like a porcelain doll and who treats you like the prettiest princess alive.
“I— I don’t care if.. if yer an outlaw.” You stutter out, “You’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt before and I..”
Both his hands come to yours, fingers coming to intertwine with yours. The bold contrast between your skin and size told you everything. Calloused filled, scar-stricken hairy hands paired with hands that were always smoothened, delicately cared with little to no blemishes. He squeezes your hands firmly.
“Darlin’..” He sighs, “I don’t want you to get hurt ‘cuz of me, ‘s all I’m saying.”
“Please, Arthur.” You plead silently. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this moment. You want him, and he wants you. He looks so conflicted, his demeanour falls as soon as you use those puppy eyes you were blessed with. Long lashes slowly fall down, which rises and shows those glistening pearls of coloured irises.
“..Damn.” He kisses his teeth out of pure irritation over the situation. Not because of you, never. But because of the decisions which ultimately resulted in the worst. He looks at you one more time.
“You’re real needy thing y’know that?” He grunts lowly before leaning in slowly to press his lips on your forehead. Immediately do you melt in his arms, you cling onto him like the princess you were.
He holds you closely. Your face meets his chest, and his arms are wrapped around your waist, “You really wanna get with me huh?”
“Yes,” You reply, out of breath at the touch. “More than anything.” You continue on with a sweet whimper which makes his desires go crazy in his mind.
“You’re gon’ be in for a real long ride, sweetheart.” He mutters softly in your ear.
You don’t hesitate to answer back. “I don’t mind.”
“You really sure?” He asks one more time, “Y’can’t back out once yer with me. You’re mine from then on, y’hear?”
“All yours.” You nod once again.
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꒰🍰꒱ “I’ve been thinking.”
The brush in your hand is slow in movement, before placed down gently on the table below. A brow is quirked at the sound of your beau’s voice which rattled in your head.
It’s been over few months or so since you’ve gotten together. When he couldn’t visit, he’d send letters with the sweetest words. You’ve kept them all in a small box which cheekily peaked out in the corner of your room, right on top of your mahogany wardrobe.
“You oughta meet m’ family.” He bluntly states.
“Your family?” You tilt your head.
He nods, scratching at the stubble on his angular jaw. Your eyes catch the slight tremble his hand had when it was coming to his jaw, and you can’t help but be even more curious.
“Lemme rephrase that.. Reckon you should come meet my gang. They’re my family, in a way.”
You hesitate at the word ‘gang’. Obviously, by that word alone it insinuated meanings which you were taught to be aware.
“Don’t you worry, they’re all nice people,” He brings up a hand to place on-top of yours, “You don’t have meet ‘em if you don’t feel ready yet, ‘m just saying.”
You shyly smile up at him.
“I’ll meet them.”
His crinkled eyes widen in surprise, “You will?”
“Mhm,” You nod, “Oh- Just give me some time to prepare, will you?”
“Right, right. You go do your little princess activities which’ll span for over a whole five hours.” He teases. He earns a glare from your puppy face, something he’s all too familiar with.
“Quiet, you.”
“The hell are you even doing in there? Does it really have to take you a whole two hours to pick an outfi— Ouch.” A sock clumsily hits his face.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take you a whole five hours to get ready. Before you could grab the necklace on your desk, Arthur reaches from behind to grab those dainty pearls of yours before clasping it behind your neck himself. He slowly leans in to delicately place a soft kiss on your sensitive neck before standing up to dust himself.
“Y’ready, sweetheart?” He asks with a low drawl.
“Mhm!” You smile happily, clinging to his arm.
Outside from the building you lived in has a small horse post outside to hitch said animals. He leads you to a horse far more taller than him, quite literally towering over you. With the least of efforts, he picks you up from the waist to plop you on the saddle, before he himself hitches on the magnificent mare.
It took over an hour to travel to some sort of densely packed trail. You can’t help but tilt your head at the location, tilting your head up to question the man who lazily rode the horse behind you. His chest was quite a good alternative for a pillow.
“..You live here?”
He snorts, “Er.. Kinda. You’ll see.”
Not long do you see a large campsite, you feel yourself shrink at the sound of.. new people.
Sure you worked at a job where you had to talk to people. But you weren’t the best at keeping up a conversation with.. criminals, you could say.
“Arthur’s back, Arthur’s back!” A little boy’s voice rings through your ears, you can’t help but curiously peak from his shoulder to see whom it was. A young boy with brown hair- blue coat and a tooth missing. He eagerly points to the man as he enters in the vicinity.
“Ooh, ‘n he’s brought a girl..” The young boy ushers a woman far too familiar to come over.
“He what now?” The sound of a few footsteps were heard- oh gosh did you feel as nervous as a doe trying to not stumble on its legs.
“A girl?”
“Don’t tell me we’ve got another mouth to feed.”
“She’s real purdy.”
“She seems fancy..”
“[name]?”
You jump at the sound of your name being called- you look behind to see.. Mary-Beth!
“Oh!” Arthur hops down, picking you up from the horse to settle you onto the ground. You eagerly smile at the woman you knew well.
“What are you doing here?!” The book-worm asks with a squeal, rushing to you for a hug.
“I— I could ask you the same thing!” You stammer as you feel yourself getting lifted up a bit from the ground, hugging her tightly back.
Arthur coughs to interrupt the soft chattering, “I’d like you all to meet m’ girl. No touching, ‘cept for the girls ‘n Jack.”
“Ha! Knew you had a thing for her—” You hear a raspy voice from afar, near the little boy you presumed was named Jack. You’ve seen him before, and if you could recall.. His name was John. A flick to the forehead is what you see between your beloved and him.
“Tilly ‘n the others are here somewhere finishing chores up,” Mary-Beth beckons a few of the girls to come over. Karen was the first to bid you a ‘hello!!!’
“Y’got any cake for us?” She jokingly asks. Her eyes widen when she realises she’s spoken too soon when she sees the few boxes of treats which were stacked and tied with a pink bow neatly on top of Arthur’s horse.
“[name], I think ‘m gonna kiss you.” Karen walks away to grab one box for herself. You let out a giggle as you go and greet the other girls.
Fortunately for you, everyone was welcoming and homey well um, except for one. But you’ve heard from most that he’s always like that.
“It’s quite a surprise for Arthur to bring a woman back to camp,” An old man to which you’ve became comfortable talking with for a while sits next to you. Hosea was his name, for some reason does he remind you of your grandfather.
“Oh? How so?” You shyly question. His warm eyes stare at your figure endearingly.
“Well for starters, he usually scares them off.”
“Hosea.” Your love comes to your side, embarrassed at his words.
“It’s quite true! Here, let me tell her about the story of when you…”
For the rest of the day, you were treated carefully and lovingly. You weren’t sure what you’d expect from a gang filled with criminals and thieves, but you could surely say that they were a sweet group of people.
You’ll be expecting a large sum of visitors on the following days, and perhaps a small ring soon enough.
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obsessivelullabies · 1 month
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arthur giving you flowers.
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arthur had never been much of a romantic. his gifts for you, his lovely spouse, were usually small trinkets he’d found when he went out.
when he saw the gorgeous flowers, your favorite color, he immediately thought about you and your pretty face. he carefully cut them from the ground, trying his best to not ruin their stems or petals.
arthur brought them back from his trip, immediately noticing you as he got back. he admired you for a moment. he knew he was whipped as his heart swelled.
arthur approached you, getting your attention and bringing out the flowers. “for you,” he announced.
your sweet reaction made it all worth it for him. he expects to be rewarded with some kisses. “anything for you.” he mumbled against your lips.
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i’ve never written for rdr2, i just started playing the game so sorry if i’m writing him wrong
masterlist. | reblogs and comments appreciated.
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formulaa-1 · 1 year
Text
Instagram au 🤍
femdriver!reader x Arthur leclerc
you and Arthur have been besties since you were 3 but everyone thinks your in love with eachother… and maybe just maybe they’re right …
y/nusername
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y/nusername : photo dump 📷 warning… jump scare for the third picture⚠️
Liked by arthur_leclerc,paularon_ and 304,274 others
view all 32,368 comments
arthur_leclerc: I hate u
y/nusername: you love me really 😚🫶🏻
arthur_leclerc: yeah 🙄🙄
User38: OMGGGGGG NOT THEM FLIRTING IN THE COMMENTS !!
username278: lmaooo the picture of Arthur 😭
artieeclair291: they are so in love 😫
y/nfan27: her on his shoulders though 🥺🥺
username_wo2: “besties” pfft yeah right look at them 😍🥺
paularon_: I’m just thankful she didn’t post any mugs of me 🙏🏼
y/nusername: now that you’ve reminded me😏
paularon: NO Y/N !!!!
arthur_leclerc
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arthur_leclerc: c’est le karma y/n 😉
tagged: y/nusername
Liked by y/nusername,lorenzotl and 302,365 others
view all 31,282 comments
y/nusername: yeah but I look hot so jokes on u ;)
arthur_leclerc : true 😞
lorenzotl: cute❤️
arthurluvrr4: the flirting again…HIS HEAD ON HER LAP ??? Stop they’re so in love man 😫😫
username29: facts. Like Arthur and y/n are just goals like get together alreadyy
user90: HELLO??? he posts her 😫😫 some men don’t even do that for there gfs… never mind there “besties” 😖😖
alfan36: I have a feeling they’re dating but just don’t wanna tell people yet 😏
y/nluvrrr837: get.together.already.🔪🔪
paularon_
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paularon_: me ft “just besties”
tagged: arthur_leclerc and y/nusername
Liked by y/nusername,arthur_leclerc and 120,028 others
view all 26,210 comments
y/nusername: your on thin ice 🫶🏻🫶🏻
paularon_: 🏒⛸
arthur_leclerc: y/n makes a really good pillow 👍🏼
user282: LMAO
username289: this day just keeps on getting better and better
paularofann290: him posting them is just *chefs kiss*
user1038: I’m so single 🙄
y/nsbiggestfan19: *waits patiently for them to get tf together*
f2updatesss29: he could be her hab and she could be his wag 🤩 perfect couple.
(AUTHORS NOTE- this took an hour and 20 mins to make..🤯 but anyways my next one will probably be about Pierre gasly! I’m also trying to post once a day but it might be a bit difficult so I’ll try my best :) ! )
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pigfacedbitch · 8 months
Text
It's A Trap!
summary : Prince Arthur uses reader to lure Merlin out whenever he is hiding from him.
word count : 0.5k
type : imagines
pairing/s involved : Merlin x Reader (?)
warning/s : none. just Merlin pining over reader and Arthur being an ass.
here is my masterlist!
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Note : I thought of this when I watched the clip where Arthur is looking for Merlin and he was hiding behind the door. 😂 It was a one shot before and I heavily edited it too.
There is no denying that Prince's Arthur's manservant is in love with (Y/N), a noble lady from one of the most prestigious houses in Camelot.
Everyone, even Arthur himself, knows it. And that's saying something. 🫢😂
From the way Merlin would stare at you with heart in his eyes, how he would follow you everywhere like a dog, or his ears pick up whenever he hears your name.
Gaius almost wants to take a leaf out of Van Gogh's book and tear off his own ears because Merlin wouldn't shut up about you. He also writes about you in his letters for Hunith.
Now, does Arthur take advantage of it? Of course, he does. Like,"Do you know Lady (Y/N) would be there?" or "If you fetch flowers for Gwen, you could also get some for your lady love."
The epitome of the statement, however, is making you his trap. Confused? I'll explain further later.
"Merlin?! Where are you?!"
It's very common for the palace staff to hear the prince of Camelot blaringly calling out to his manservant. Although some people catch Merlin scurrying away from him or has an idea of his whereabouts, no one bothers to tell Arthur anything.
After all, it's completely understandable and why many servants can empathize. As admirable and honorable the prince is, he can be a handful at times.
That's where you come in.
Whenever Arthur has given up searching for Merlin, he would search for you instead.
He often finds you in the gardens with the other noble ladies, helping some servants with menial tasks, or having tea with Morgana and Gwen. Uther enjoys your company too, making the usual stoic ruler laugh and gossip.
"May I excuse Lady (Y/N)? I need her assistance with something."
"Is it Merlin again?"
"...Yes."
You would go to Gaius' chambers, the kitchens, servant's quarters, or anywhere Merlin could've gone to. Then, you would tell anyone that you're looking for him to speak about personal matters and you'll be waiting for him with a place of your choice.
Arthur would wait with you, but he's hiding where Merlin can't see him.
Why do you continue helping the royal prat? It's because you find it funny.
You're also curious, thinking how long will it take Merlin to stop seeking you out because most of the time it's just one of Arthur's traps.
The prince's knights bet on it. Gwaine and Leon are winning— saying how Merlin will never learn.
It's true, he doesn't. I guess love does make you an idiot.
Merlin always approaches you with a beaming grin on his face and blushed cheeks, acting like a lovesick school boy.
"My lady, you were looking for me?"
"Well you see..."
Arthur would wait for Merlin to get closer before grabbing the manservant in his clutches.
"Here you are, you idiot!"
Sometimes Merlin would free himself and run, sometimes he doesn't and Arthur would drag him away while warning him of possible punishments.
But he never misses the chance to look back and give you the most charming smile anyone has ever graced you with.
"Merlin really loves you, doesn't he?" You hear Gwen beside you, linking your arm with hers. Nervous and worried, you reply—
"Yes. I just hope that I get to tell Merlin that I share his affections. But Arthur is always with him."
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Note
How about #2 with Thor,Arthur, or Deadpool? 🙃💛
.⋆。Put Some Clothes On You Slut 。⋆.
Arthur Curry x plus size reader
Arthur loves to tease you when you have things to do but you can give it as good as you get
Warnings: nudity, teasing, fluff, implied smut, reader calls Arthur a slut (like we all know he is)
WC: 1.1k
Minors DNI
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
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3000 Follower Celebration
“Ok so we have dinner with your parents tonight but we’re in charge of drinks and dessert so I was thinking that you could run into town to get a nice bottle of wine while I made a pie. And then oh yummy just so- Arthur!” You looked up from where you had been folding the long overdue laundry only to see your fiancé wander into the bedroom dressed only in a towel that did nothing to hide the way his ‘gift’ swung as he moved. Your thoughts quickly trailed off to a place you had no time to go before you caught yourself.
“What?” He asked but the smirk on his stupid face gave him away. You angrily pointed at him.
“No. This is not happening.” 
Arthur dramatically put his hand on his bare chest like he was offended. “What’s not happening? Dinner? That’s disappointing, I was looking forward to it.” You glared at him.
“Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it.” You sucked your teeth and turned back to the laundry, folding the last remaining shirt and then moving over to the closet. Arthur’s light footfalls followed you, keeping just enough distance to keep you interested. “Tomorrow, I’m meeting up with Lois, and Clark but I really think he just invited himself. He’s got some serious fomo.”
Your fiancé reached around you and plucked up a pair of underwear from his pile as you were putting everything away. You fought the urge to look back at him, knowing that if you did, you would just be giving him what he wanted. You cleared your throat and kept talking. “So you’re welcome to come along if you want, I doubt Clark will want to listen to me and his wife having girl talk.”
There came a muffled thud from behind you, and out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his white towel now a heap on the floor. You could vaguely see his naked legs out of your peripheral vision, you were tempted, dear god were you tempted to just look up a couple more inches. Your grip on the now empty laundry basket got tighter. “And um, your mom wanted to go wedding dress shopping this weekend but- fuck.” 
You made the mistake of turning around once you believed it was safe but instead you were met with the glorious view of Arthur’s mostly naked tattooed body, wearing only the tightest, smallest boxers you had ever seen. That bastard knew you were close to breaking.
“Out!” He actually jumped at your outburst. “Go on get! We absolutely cannot be late tonight and I cannot show up to your parents’ house smelling like sex. So go get a bottle of wine, a nice one, and leave me alone until we have to go.” Looking like a kicked puppy, Arthur whined and left the room, shooting you a sad look over his shoulder.
You huffed. “And put on some clothes you slut!”
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Arthur had homework, and as pathetic as that sounded, it was resoundingly true. In order to get the Atlantean king more involved in Justice League business, Bruce had given him a stack of files on various villains to read through. Begrudgingly, Arthur had complied, of course with a little motivation from you but Batman didn’t need to know that.
So once a week, he would hole himself up in your little office at the back of the house and study. As soon as the door shut behind him, you set your plan into motion.
Making sure the shower was extra hot, you stepped into the stream of water. You stayed in just long enough to quickly scrub your body in your extra fancy body wash and to make sure you were completely soaked. You grabbed the smallest towel you could find (coincidentally it was the same one Arthur used only three days ago) and wrapped it around yourself as best you could while not completely drying off. Most of your naked body was still visible though, including your entire right side, but it covered just enough that Arthur wouldn’t be suspicious.
The grumbling coming from behind the office door told you all you needed to know. You smothered the smirk on your face behind a concerned expression and quietly entered. His huge figure was hunched over your desk, a large pile of paper in front of him, his unruly hair tied up messily out of his face, exposing the way his nose scrunched in confusion.
“How’s your work going Art?” His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of your voice. 
“It’s going,” he responded with a grumble, turning in his seat to face you but froze quickly, “Queenie, what are you wearing?” Playing dumb, you looked down at your scantily covered body, still wet and warm from the shower, then back up to your fiancé.
“Oh I just took a shower, is that a problem?” He furiously shook his head.
“Nope, nada. You take allllll the showers you want lovey.” He looked at you and it seemed like he was about to get up from the desk to attack you but the files caught his eye once more and he deflated. You grinned victoriously. “Except maybe not today,” Arthur winced, “I have a lot of stuff I have to get done.”
“How would me being all wet and steamy be a problem for you my king?” Your voice took on a sultry tone, one you only used in the bedroom and it had an immediate effect on him. His eyes instantly went dark with lust and his fingers curled into a fist.
With a herculean effort, Arthur forced himself to turn away from you and focus back on his work. “This has to get done so can you put on some clothes? I can’t concentrate.” 
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. Let me get out of your way, I know how important all this is and how you can’t be distracted.” You purred as you walked back to the door, making sure your hips swayed sensually, just the way he liked. “Come find me when you’re done.” And then you dropped the towel.
There was a beat of silence and then.
“Fuck this.” Huge hands were suddenly wrapped around your thick waist and you were spun around, coming face-to-face with the man you had promised to spend your life with. “You are an evil evil woman.” He snarled.
“And yet, I got the King of Atlantis to crack.” You smugly responded.
“Then let me show you what riling up a king gets you.” And Arthur learned that day that you gave as good as you got.
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bad268 · 3 months
Text
4+1 (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)
Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3
Requested: Yeah on Wattpad (look at me actually checking my wattpad messages woah)
Warnings: none.
Pronouns: You/Your/They/Them
W.C. 2113
Summary: The 4 times the reader surprised Arthur and the 1 time Arthur surprised the reader (plus a bonus scene).
As always, my requests are OPEN
MASTERLIST // HITLIST
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~(^Pinterest but I'm pretty sure Carla posted it too)
1) Austria 2021
The weekend was not off to a good start, and that’s what caused you to drop everything to go to Austria. Qualifying did not go the best for Arthur, but where he qualified left him with a great opportunity for points, starting in fourth place. 
You should have listened to your gut when it said something was going to happen this weekend. Instead, you were at work when Lorenzo called you, saying that Arthur had been gone off the track and had to retire early, and he was beating himself up over it.
You told your supervisor that you needed to head out and that you would do work remotely for the remainder of the weekend and probably the next week. They let you go without a hitch, so you were on the next flight out.
When you landed, Race 2 was just about to start. Lorenzo came and picked you up, taking you to the track and into the Prema garage. Arthur was starting down in 27th place. He was already in the car doing the formation lap, so after greeting most of the team, you asked if you could wish him luck over the radio. Thankfully enough, Rene was there and let you use his headset, but told you to make it quick.
“Bonjour mon amour (Hello my love),” You said as soon as you had the headset on. “Bonne chance, je t’aime (Good luck, I love you).”
“Wait, what are you doing here, mon beau (my beauty)? I thought you had work,” he responded immediately as he pulled around one of the last corners.
“Came to surprise you, but I need you to focus on the race now,” You replied with a small, shy smile as the team was listening in on the conversation. “I want you to do what you do best. You’ve got this.”
~
2) Silverstone 2022
At the beginning of the week, you were not sure if you would be able to make it to Silverstone in time for the feature race. Nothing seemed to line up, so you had told Arthur you would not be able to make it.
However, it seemed like the world was working for you when everything you had to do worked itself out by Thursday night. The weekend shifts that you could not find coverage for were canceled due to overstaffing, your assignments’ due dates were pushed back another weekend, and flights just went on sale. It just seemed like everything was working for you.
Immediately, you got on the first flight out Friday morning to London. Just before taking off, you texted Lorenzo, knowing that Arthur was most likely in his practice or qualifying session. You sent Lorenzo your flight info quickly before shutting off your phone for takeoff. 
Landing in London, it did not take you long to meet up with Lorenzo since you only packed a carry-on. You were able to get right off the plane and meet up with Lorenzo in arrivals. He took you back to the rental car and you stopped off to get food before arriving in the F1 paddock where Arthur was hanging out with Charles in between races
You saw him standing against the doorway of Charles’s room with his race suit tied around his waist. You walked up behind him, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist as you hid your face in his shoulders. Arthur stopped talking abruptly, confused at who was hugging him until he turned around and saw your familiar hair color against his chest.
“You said you had work, liar,” Arthur gasped as he lifted you and held you against his body.
“What happened to ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ or ‘I missed you’?” You laughed once he finally set you down. You leaned in to place a small kiss on his lips before whispering, “I couldn’t miss this. I always try my best to support you.”
~
3) Australia 2023
You recently got a new job that would allow you to travel with Arthur, but he didn’t know about it yet. It was only finalized it on the Tuesday before the race. You were hired by Ferrari to be their social media coordinator for their academy drivers specifically, and it was a ticket to follow him around for the season.
You had flown with him to Australia for the race, but you told him in advance that you would need to be doing work during the weekend. You told Arthur that morning that you had an early morning meeting which was not a lie, but he did not know it was at the track. By the time Arthur arrived at the track for prerace, you had already gotten acquainted with everyone and were in a grove. 
You two didn’t actually run into each other for a while because you were following Fred around, listening to everything he wanted from you before actually getting on with your job. About halfway through the day, Arthur wanted to call you, but he was pulled into a meeting before he could actually dial your number. 
Upon arriving in the Ferrari garage, Arthur sat next to Ollie off to the side. They were told it was a basic meeting to go over a new social media plan. The last thing Arthur expected was to see you walk in beside Fred. 
His eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped, causing Ollie to chuckle beside him. “Don’t you have a significant other?” Ollie whispered to Arthur. The man in question just ignored his friend.
You looked around the room, almost immediately making eye contact with Arthur. A wide smile spread across your lips as you waved shyly at him.
“Everybody this is Y/n,” Fred introduced you, “They will be working with the academy drivers for their social media.”
Needless to say, when Arthur got his maiden F2 podium, the fans could definitely tell who was your favorite driver.
~
4) Monaco 2023
It was his home race in his own backyard. How could you not attend? Not only did you love the atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix, but it was his first time racing in his home country. Let alone, down the street from his house!
The F2 race had started a few minutes ago, and you were on your way back to the F2 paddock. You had run a little long with Dino’s post-race pictures, so you weren’t there for the start of Arthur’s race. You felt horrible.
You felt your heart sink when you heard the clashing of metal and the gasping of spectators. You glanced up at the big screen, and the one car you did not want to see was shown losing control and crashing into the barriers. It was the Dams number 12, Arthur.
You and Arthur would jokingly poke fun at the Monaco Curse, as Charles referred to it, but you never thought it would affect Arthur. It’s times like this when you really wish you never made those jokes in the first place. You unintentionally manifested this. 
By the time Arthur got back to the garage, you had an icepack at the ready. Despite him already having stopped by the medic tent, you knew that an icepack wouldn’t hurt. Especially with how hard the impact was, his head was bound to hurt.
You stood in the back of the garage, updating the FDA social media as you waited for him. When he did, he immediately put his helmet to the side, giving you a sad smile as he approached you. You looked back at him, offering an encouraging smile in return as you opened your arms for him. Arthur did not need to be told twice as he collapsed in your arms as soon as the space was available. You ran one hand up and down his back as you kissed his temple held that was already forming a bruise before holding the icepack to it gently.
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” you whispered as you twirled some of the hairs at the nape of his neck, knowing it calmed him down, “Just know, I am so incredibly proud of you. You did amazing while you were out there, and trust me, next year, you’ll come back stronger.”
~
+1) Las Vegas 2023
Being from Las Vegas meant that you wanted to attend the grand prix that was taking place in your backyard. Despite not actually racing in it, Arthur was planning on going anyway to support Charles, so you convinced them to bring you along as a tour guide of sorts. 
That being said, they all knew you were coming. There was nothing to surprise anyone with. At least, that’s what you thought. Arthur decided it was his turn to surprise you. He did not have all of the specifics settled, but he knew for certain that he wanted to propose to you.
It was Friday afternoon, and despite being on the track until 5 that morning, you still dragged Arthur out of the hotel by 2 to explore. You knew for certain you wanted to take him for slushies and to your favorite place to people-watch: Fashion Show Mall.
“It is way too early to get drunk,” Arthur laughed as he took a drink of the large slushie you two were sharing as you walked hand-in-hand through the streets of Sin City. “And this is comically big.”
“1, that's what she said. 2, it's not that high in alcohol percent. 3, we’re sharing it. And 4, it’s never too early to get drunk when you’re not the one driving,” you chuckled as you pulled him up the rainbow stairs to the top level. There was a grass patch that you loved to sit on while growing up, and it was the perfect spot to overlook the entire city. “This is basically where I grew up. I didn’t have many friends, but I would watch everyone from up here after school. It’s a nice view as long as you don’t look straight down.”
He followed you to the grass and jokingly fell beside you with his head in your lap when you sat down. He smiled up at you, causing you to chuckle, as he held your hand in his. 
“Your hand is cold,” He whispered.
“I’ve been holding the slushie since Elvis Presley Boulevard,” you joked, “I wonder why?”
“I can warm it up,” He joked back as he took your hand in both of his as he placed small kisses along your knuckles. You closed your eyes and threw your head back as you laughed at his antics until you felt a foreign object being slid onto your finger. You looked down at Arthur to see him smiling smugly up at you as you noticed the object was a ring, and Arthur had placed it on your left ring finger. “I’ve been trying to find the words, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Mon amour, you are my best friend and you have been by my side for as long as I can remember. You always surprise me, so I thought it was my turn. Will you marry me?”
“You’re crazy, Arthur,” you cried as you hid your face behind your right hand, your left hand still being held tightly by Arthur. His face dropped, thinking you were turning him down, but before he could try to remove the ring, you continued, “You’re crazy for thinking I would say anything but yes!”
~
Bonus scene: Average screen time
“Your screen time is more than five hours,” Olli Calwell read off as part of the challenge they were doing for the Prema Racing YouTube channel. It was a little game to see who uses social media more.
“I know, I check mine every day. I have a problem,” Paul laughed as he pulled out his phone immediately. Arthur looked off to the side where you were sitting as he chuckled, knowing his screen time was through the roof because of the Facetime calls you do every weekend. 
“Mine is 13 hours,” Arthur spoke up. Both Olli and Paul’s eyes grew wide in shock as they snapped over to him, questioning if that was really his average. “Yes, look!” Arthur spins his body around to show the other two his screen time as you also lean forward a bit to see, and he’s right. It was 13 hours on average, causing you to laugh to yourself.
“Are you okay?” Olli asked and that’s what broke your cover. The fans heard you laughing in the background of the video and immediately spammed the comments asking about you. That’s when you decided to go public with Arthur.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! For legal reasons, I am required to state that I did NOT take the picture. I got it off Pinterest or Google. Please like it and/or reblog. If you want more content, follow, or send requests. You can add this account (made for content made by me), my ship/master blog, @ship268, or my side blog, @thing268, where I share other writers’ work. Also, you can follow my Wattpad or AO3. Both of which are also linked in my master post (in my bio). That’s all for now, Lads. Thanks for attending the Academy.
~BAD268<3
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posich · 3 months
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I think Arthur is that type of lover who kiss you in lips but more often kisses your cheeks, forehead, nose, shoulders and hands. He loves to say “i love you” but in most cases just bring you flowers, lie on your shoulder and look at you with softly smile.
i can’t take this anymore i’ve got so much thoughts about his romantic soul😩
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lia-wrld · 3 months
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Pls forgive my spelling Dutch is my first language
☁️ He loves to show affection by physical touch. He would always hold your hand or have his arm around ur shoulder while walking somewhere. He also does the sidewalk rule thing🤭. Let me not get started on cuddeling, Arthur would want to cuddle w you in the in bed or on the couch. 1000 procent falls asleep AND he gives the best hugs.
☁️ Arthur loves to express his love and appreciation verbally. Like telling how proud he is of you if u accomplished something or just telling you how much he loves you. Overall he praises you allot.
☁️ it’s the little things he does. You once mentioned that you really like pink roses. So he surprised you w pink roses🤭. When you moved into his apartment he makes sure it stocked w everything you like from snacks and drinks to soaps and lotions.
☁️ he is such great listener and always makes time for you. Whether you just want to vent totally about ur day he is there for you.
☁️ Arthur is such a romantic nobody can tell me otherwise. Always planning cute dates or surprises . ( may even has a ring stashed away somewhere 🤷🏾‍♀️) He makes sure you always feel loved and you’re the only girl in the world for him.
Overall Arthur is such a cutie . He’s a loving and affectionate bf 💋
Hope you guys liked it send in ur request, it really motivates me whenever I see that you guys want more hc’s . Maybe soon my first fic will come out🤭.
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wildfloweroutlaw · 1 year
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Protective and Proud
~~~~~~~~~~
pairing: arthur morgan X female reader
drabble: arthur being protective
summary: when arthur and reader’s night is so rudely interrupted, arthur has to show his protective side.
a/n: sorry for the short writing hiatus, school kicked my ass this semester. this was originally just meant to help me get back into the swing of writing, but i figured i’d share in case someone enjoys it :)
word count: 1,652 words
~~~~~~~~~~
You impatiently shifted from one foot to the other, back pressed against the wooden hitching post just outside the sheriff’s office. The sun had already started its decent below the mountains in the distance a while ago, leaving the street lamps to cast a soft yellow glow on the town of Valentine. A few people still meandered about in the street, but for the most part the town was empty. Save for the saloon of course, you often found yourself glancing that way to observe the drunken citizens coming in and out of the swinging saloon doors, laughter and music filtering out into otherwise quiet night.
You fished in your pocket for your watch, glancing down at the little hands that read 7:30. Arthur had told you to meet him here at 7 p.m sharp for a drink or two. You shoved the watch back into your pocket, sighing dramatically, though you urged yourself to be more patient. You can’t even blame the poor man for being late, you know he works himself half to death each day. Hell he probably hasn’t even had time to glance at his watch today. You pulled a cigarette out of the pack in your saddle bag, lighting it up. You absentmindedly stroked your horse’s neck as you puffed a cloud of smoke into the cool night air.
“Thought you was quitting?”, A gruff voice from behind you interrupted your thoughts.
The sudden intrusion made you jump slightly and you quickly turned to see your cowboy walking towards you, reins in hand and the usual smirk plastered to his handsome face.
“Yeah well… maybe next week.” You grinned with a shrug, cigarette dangling out of the corner of your mouth.
Arthur approached the hitching post, tying off his horse alongside yours. “You know…”, he reached forward, pulling the cigarette from your lips and placing them between his own, “these ain’t good for ya darling.”
You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, and you were quick to close the gap between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his thick torso, burying your face in his chest. “Missed you.”
Arthur’s hands snaked around your waist, one hand gently stroking your back. “I missed you too sweet heart. Sorry I was late, Marston had me running all over the county chasing some damn sheep.”
You released your grip on him, grinning at the obvious annoyance that laced his voice. “I’m scared to even ask.”
“I’ll tell ya about it over drinks, c’mon.” Arthur snuffed out the stolen cigarette and motioned towards the lively saloon. You happily made your way towards the commotion and the smell of liquor, Arthur following closely beside you.
Upon approaching the saloon doors, Arthur pushed one open and held it for you, allowing you to lead the way. The sudden turn of heads and lingering eyes from the men in the bar were not lost on him, far for it actually. Though you always seemed to either not notice or not care about the curious eyes of strangers, Arthur actually enjoyed it, he absolutely loved being seen with you.
Arthur knew you were so much more than just something pretty to hang on his arm. However, he couldn’t help but to love the feeling he got when he saw the way other men looked at the pair of you, though he’d never admit it. The way they oozed jealousy watching you dote over him, kiss on him, hell even just stand next to him, it was something he’d never experienced before. Arthur never thought there was much about himself to be proud of you. But you, you made him feel special. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to be able to boast about his claim on you. You were his and he was going to make damn sure everyone in here knew it.
Arthur placed a large rough hand upon the small of your back, keeping you close to him as he guided you towards the edge of the bar. He was quick to get the bar keeps attention, ordering you both a glass of whiskey. Arthur was happy to chatter a long with you while you both nursed your drinks. He’d barely seen you all week and was eager to catch up with his favorite girl.
Though the bar was loud, you were only focused on Arthur. The way he intently listened every time you spoke, the way he would often lean in closer just to hear you a bit better, the way his arm always found it’s way around your waist: he was perfect to you in every way. You leaned up to pepper a few kisses along his bearded jawline as he spoke. Suddenly remembering Arthur’s promise from earlier, you quickly pulled away.“Oh! Arthur the sheep! You never told me what the hell you were doing with the sheep.”
Arthur had never met anyone who took such an interest in him and his stories before. Perhaps that’s why he’s always been so taken with you, you seemed to be one of the only people in the world who wanted to know more about him.“Well, Marston had this bright idea, and that’s never a good thing…” he chuckled a little at his own joke, promoting you to roll your eyes. “He figured that we could make a pretty penny by-“
“Miss? ‘Scuse me miss!” An extremely intoxicated man stumbled his way beside you at the bar, much to close for your’s or Arthur’s liking.
“Yes?”, confused, you turned to face him. His face was red and his eyes glassy.
“Miss I-I couldn’t help but to notice you. I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink.” His words slightly slurred together and he propped one elbow up on the bar clumsily.
Still confused you glanced from the man to Arthur and back again. “I’m sorry mister but I’m spoken for.” You tried to be as polite as possible and you figured the man was just too drunk to notice you were there with Arthur.
“Spoken for by who?” The man dramatically studied the room.
You nodded up to Arthur who was standing protectively behind you, so close his chest almost pressed to your back.
“You see… that’s what I was a-suspectin’. But then I thought to myself there was jus’ no way a pretty woman like you’d be here with him.” The man leaned in a little closer to speak just to you, a devilish grin on his face.
You were quick to furrow your brow in confusion.
Arthur chuckled a bit behind you. “Alright buddy you’ve made your point. Now if ya don’t mind we’d like to enjoy the rest of our night”. Arthur did his best to keep it light hearted, but it was hard to disguise his dour tone.
The man made no indication he had heard what Arthur was saying, instead he proceeded to rake his eyes over you. “Miss… I will say, you’re even prettier up close.”
You felt Arthur’s arm around your waist tighten and his chest press into your back as he leaned slightly closer to this nuisance of a man.
“You got fuckin’ hearin’ problems or somethin’?” This time Arthur’s voice was a bit more stern and you could tell he was growing annoyed at the continuous interruption.
This time the guy glanced up at Arthur, but only for a second, for his gaze was back on you in an instant. “Look miss, you give me 5 good minutes and I’ll show you what you’re missing out on.”
Arthur pulled you behind him, positioning himself between you and the drunken bastard. “She said she was spoken for. Now are you gonna fuck off or am I gonna have to embarrass you in front of the lady?” Arthur nodded back to you.
His voice had deepened to that gravely tone he used in very few scenarios, and you found yourself growing a bit hot under the collar in response. You loved when he spoke like that, it damn near sent chills up your spine.
The man raised his hands defensively, “Alright alright… was just having some fun mister.” Deciding you weren’t worth the brawl that was sure ensure, he began to stalk off.
Arthur was quick to grab ahold of the man’s shoulder, pulling him back and glaring down at him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood fella. Come back over here and I will break your god damn jaw.” Arthur spoke low, attempting to shield you from his harsh words. He shoved the man on his way and turned to give his attention back to you. “Ya okay darlin?”
You heard it all, and the butterflies proceeded to flutter in your stomach. Seeing him so protective of you, it did things to you that you couldn’t explain. You nodded and turned to face the bar, attempting to hide the blush that had crept up on your face.
Arthur moved to stand behind you, arms on either side to cage you against the bar. “You sure do cause a lot of trouble y’know.” He teased, stooping to affectionally press a kiss to your temple. “Can’t take ya out nowhere.” Arthur smiled to himself. He was so proud to be a protector, and even prouder to have something as special as you to protect.
You knew Arthur was trying to be sweet, as he was always extremely sweet. However, the only thing you could think about was his deep timber voice, his willingness to fight for you, to kill for you, and of course his looming figure pressed up behind you. You tried not to dwell on the fact that there was a growing pressure between your legs, and instead pressed your glass to your lips and took a big swig. You cleared your throat awkwardly, “You uh- you still owe me a sheep story”.
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violettduchess · 2 months
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A/N: Because he didn't have one yet 💜
WC: ~600
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He tastes like coffee and wonder, like fudge and fervor.
The minutes leading up to this moment, this embrace in the depth of night, began with you coming back through the mansion door just as the clock struck the midnight hour, one hand pushing back the rich hood of your cloak, revealing cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes bright as sunlight winking off a morning’s frost. Your smile was wide and warm and open as you stepped into the parlor, searching for him. Arthur took one look at you, threw down his hand of cards and with a light smile and breezy valediction, took your hand and took his leave, pulling you along with him, away from the knowing glances of the others.
Up the wide staircase you go, down the carpeted hallway with its arched windows letting in pale slants of moonlight. Your room is much too far away and his may as well be on the moon. 
He needs you now.
And so he pulls you into a shadowy alcove, pulls you against his lean body. You’re laughing softly, breathless, murmuring something about still wearing your cloak and boots and- 
“As if that matters, luv.” 
And then his lips are on yours and you realize, no, no it doesn’t matter at all. Although eager, his kiss begins soft, one hand sliding up, across the plane of your cheek, thumb stroking smooth skin. His lips leave yours to roam the line of your jaw, to prowl the sensitive place below your ear. You tilt your head back and allow him access to the slope of your neck, expecting him to sink his sharp fangs in immediately, unable to resist the feeling of lawless pleasure.
He does not.
Instead, kiss after kiss decorates your skin, as if you are a blank page and he is the writer, jotting formless words of desire and devotion, of tenderness and aching affection along your throat, your collarbone, your shoulder.
No one before you has ever mattered. You are the beginning of his greatest story.
His name is a sigh whispered into the shadows, your fingers catching his chin and lifting his head back up so you can kiss his mouth, the romance of the moment draped around you like silken cords. His hands slide under your cloak, untuck your blouse from your skirt and slide underneath, palms pressing against the bare skin of your back. Up they slide, along your spine, then back down the lines of your torso. You are softer than vellum, his fingertips curling and tracing a filigree along your waist. They feel feather-light, like ink trails across your skin.
“I need you,” he breathes against your lips, sincere and honest, his heart a fragile thing you hold in your hands. And you smile, clutching the nape of his neck. “I need you too.”
He lifts you into his arms, kissing you once more, this time harder, a kiss edged with the promise of what is to come. You curl against him, soft and boneless as his long legs carry you down the hall, towards your room. You close your eyes, nuzzling into his neck, dropping kisses like tiny sparks against his skin. 
His heart thunders in his chest at your touch and he knows, with every fiber of his being, that you love him, as he is. You, who pulled his gaze away from the regrets of his past and helped him close the chapters on the trauma that had haunted him for far too long. Your love cradles him and keeps him safe, a cover to his fragile pages and a promise for all that is still unwritten.
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Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @ozalysss @kiki-tties
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meiscoven · 9 days
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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 THIRD WHEELING
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✮˚. ᵎᵎ summary :: in which y/n is the third wheel in her own relationship
✮˚. ᵎᵎ faceclaim :: isabela juliana
✮˚. ᵎᵎ author’s note :: will admit, i did delete this app for ages but then got bored and redownloaded it :)
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yourinstagram
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liked by arthurtv, georgeclarkeyy and others
yourusername hes such a cutie patootie
view comment..
user GIRL YOU ARE STUNNING
user the matching legos 😩
arthurtv i <3 my gf
⤷ yourusername i <3 my bf
user i love them sm
user this is where i get my style from
georgeclarkeyy sickening behaviour from mr television
⤷ yourusername shush
⤷ georgeclarkeyy nuh uh
user arthurtv your lovers are fighting again
yourinstagram
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liked by maxbaledge, gkbarry and others
yourusername my boyfriend and my boyfriend’s boyfriend
tagged :: arthurtv , georgeclarkeyy
view comments..
user the best thirdwheel
user the matching onesies 😩
user making me hungry with those cakes
user your outfits >>
georgeclarkeyy stay mad
⤷ yourusername 😐
user she got beef with george
*liked by yourusername*
maxbalegde i would never make you a thirdwheel
arthurtv i assure you that i love you
⤷ georgeclarkeyy i love you too
⤷ yourusername dude, fr..
⤷ yourusername i love you too
gkbarry i’ll have you then if arthur gets to have a side piece
⤷ yourusername gladly
arthurtv posted to their story
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[ caption:: i bought her flowers to show i do infact love her ]
view replies..
yourusername i didn’t doubt you
⤷ arthurtv oh really
⤷ yourusername oh hush, i love you too
georgeclarkeyy wheres my flowers
⤷ arthurtv dead
⤷ georgeclarkeyy go away y/n
yourinstagram
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liked by taliamarr, miaxmon and others
yourusername does me trying to throw george in the water show i tolerate him?
tagged :: georgeclarkeyy , arthurtv
view comments..
user nah cause their friendship is lowkey cute
user shes so beautiful i’m crying
user the picture of arthur??? HELLO
georgeclarkeyy you’re decent
⤷ yourusername wow okay i take back my nice comment earlier
⤷ arthurfnhill the kids are fighting again
user i wonder what its like to genuinely be alone with them
chrismd10 proud of you for not ripping his head off
⤷ yourusername icl i was tempted but arthur said no
⤷ user the way she listens to arthur awh
user at the end of the day it’s always gonna be y/n and arthur
user it does but only because it’s you
*liked by yourusername*
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