#At first I was going to go for a plot where Arthur asks to go back to life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fangirl-dot-com · 7 months

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Across Every Universe - Part 2

Well, I didn't expect this work to get this long. It was only supposed to be short but then I worked on it all day and for multiple hours on end?? I guess I just enjoy this concept so much! These are basically the stories I wanted to put in last time, but they needed their own chapter to truly shine.

I know people asked for Arthur and reader romance, but To Do Is To Dare has always been a racing fic first and romance second. I tried to add in all the people I could without going crazy with the plot line or it would have gotten out of hand (or more than it already is). There is a lot of Max and Charles (my two favorite boys on the grid).

If anyone has anything against Lestappen - there's the door :)

Please enjoy :)

Earth 33891

“Please stand for his Majesty King Max Emilian Verstappen, King of the Netherlands and Prince of Orange.”

Max always hated these announcements. Like, why did they have to always say his middle name and all the titles that came with it? He put on a gentle smile and waved to the crowds around him. Thankfully, his dressers had decided to forgo the kingly robes and opted for a nice suit with his pins. Definitely fitting for the Dutch Grand Prix.

This would be his ninth to attend since taking the throne at 18-years-old after his father passed away. The kind always enjoyed seeing the Orange Army at the home race.

After greeting everyone, he was led to the special box. Apparently, more than one royal had decided to attend as well. Max’s shoulders loosened when his eyes landed on a familiar figure.

“Charles!”

Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc, The Sovereign Prince of the Principality of Monaco. Max was always glad that his mother only chose one middle name for him instead of three.

The prince’s green eyes widened at the sight of the Dutchman. He waved off whoever he was speaking to and all but glided across the room. The two forwent the formalities and brought each other into a hug.

Max leaned back a bit to look the Monegasque in the eye.

“What are you doing here? Monaco not enough for you?”

There was a playful glint in his eyes as Charles rolled his. The brunet gestured to a plush couch in the corner, one that Max was excited to sit in.

Charles began to speak, a small smile on his face, “Well as you know, my brother is currently dating one of the drivers on the grid. And it is her home race so Arthur wanted to come watch.”

Max nodded, understanding perfectly. He knew exactly who Charles was talking about.

Y/n L/n, the only female driver, who currently was working on her fourth World Champion.

“And where is your brother now?”

“He’s in the garage,” Charles rolled his eyes. He had wanted to go, but an ambassador had insisted that he needed to talk to the prince.

“Why don’t we head there. I always want to say hello to my race winner.”

Now, Max and Y/n had a very loving sibling relationship. The king had watched her grow up karting and made sure to sponsor her and support her through her career. Without his support, the girl would not have been able to continue. Yet, when you put the royal Dutch crest on your Formula 3 car, someone has to know that it means something.

This would be her 4th season in Red Bull, having been 19 when she joined in 2019. She was only 20 when she won her first World Championship, breaking the record for the youngest ever to dominate the sport.

Now she was 24 and is on a path to win her fourth in only five races if she keeps up the winning streak. Max was only older by 3 years, yet he watched over her like a very protective older brother.

He and Charles had made their way down to the pitlane, much to their advisors’ chagrin. They passed by the Mercedes garage to say hello to King Lewis Hamilton III and then George Russell, Duke of Sussex. The two Brits had been friends or well, colleagues, with the other two reigning monarchs for quite some time. They were currently backing Kimi Antonelli and Mick Schumacher, the current driver line up for Mercedes.

Right next to the silver garage stood a very orange and bright one. Max was excited to see Lando Norris, Duke of York also in attendance. He was very close with the two Aussie drivers, Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo.

Down the line was Williams, who was attending to a very eager Logan Sargeant, the President of the United States’ kid. Max was fond of the blond and often said hello to him whenever he got the chance in diplomatic settings.

But finally, they were able to reach the big navy garage. Max could definitely pick up Arthur’s almost French accent everywhere. But, his ears were tuned to the sound of your Dutch accent that was similar to his.

“Geitje!” he called out, finding your blond hair against the navy racing suit.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing the conversation with your boyfriend. You rolled your eyes when you saw Max in his kingly splendor. You took a few steps toward the fellow Dutch and gave him a hug.

“I told you to quit calling me that. I’m not a kid anymore, or was never a goat for that matter.”

Charles took this moment to catch up with his brother.

Max looked down at you fondly. “You’ll always be that small kid whose suit was two sizes too big on her.”

You honestly wanted to cry, but you kept the tears in. There was a race that you needed to win.

“Are you going to give me my trophy this year?”

“Don’t I every year?”

You looked up in mock thought. “Well, there was that one year that you had appendicitis and your mom gave me my trophy.”

Max lightly nudged you. “That was one year, let it go.”

You grumbled. “Well I hope that someone won’t break my trophy this year.”

Your teammate, Ollie Bearman, popped his head up from where he was looking at his tyres.

“It was one year Y/n! One year!”

You giggled at the disgruntled yells from the British Driver. Ollie had been one of your favorite teammates.

Your first year, you were paired with the golden boy himself, Sebastian Vettel, before he retired with one last championship. And then your first year as world champion, you were paired with Oscar Piastri before he left for McLaren. Ollie had been your teammate for the past two years, but you had a feeling that he’d stick around for more than a year.

You got the heads up that the race would be starting soon. You turned back to Max.

“Are you staying here or do you have to go?”

Max had a mischievous glint in his eyes and was about to reply before being interrupted.

“Actually, their royal highnesses need to return to the royal box.”

Max fought the urge to roll his eyes. You only laughed and pushed him in the direction of the exit.

“Go, I’ll see you at the top.”

“Blijf veilig, alsjeblieft,” Max softly pleaded.

He really hated that you put your life on the line every weekend for the job that you loved. He remembers the first time you had a terrifying crash when you were unconscious until they got you to the hospital. He was told that you probably wouldn’t wake up. However, you defied the odds and were back in the seat for the next race.

You responded, just as gentle, “Voor jou, mijn koning, altijd.”

When Max left, he turned around one last time and witnessed you giving Arthur a quick kiss before he put your helmet on. It was something that the two of you had been doing since you started dating almost two years ago.

The Dutch king was back to walking with Charles to the box.

“So, when is he proposing.”

He hadn’t expected an answer, but was surprised when he got one.

Charles gave Max a look. “They’re actually going to a restaurant, and he plans to propose tonight.”

Max’s eyes widened at the confession. But, he got over it quickly before gently smiling. You deserved happiness, and you found that in his closest friend’s brother.

“So will she have to stop racing for royal duties?” the blond questioned.

Charles shook his head. “Non. Arthur will step down.”

Max clapped him on the back. “Guess you and Alexandra need to start with some heirs huh?”

Charles squinted up at him. “Says the man who currently needs to propose as well.”

The prince got the last laugh as he left Max stuttering for a comeback.

You won the race like Max knew you would. The king watched as you held your head up high as the Dutch National Anthem played loudly through the crowds. He saw the crowds of orange, the only ones rivaling the red Tifosi at Monza.

The crowds were shouting, “De Langverwachte! Onze kleine leeuw!”

The Long Awaited.

Their Little Lion.

Max had always wished for a champion from his home country. Something to ode back to the sport he loved as a kid. His wish came true in the form of you. People talked as the king publicly backed the only female driver on the grid. But he knew that you were something special. He was there as you took the championship from Vettel in the last lap of the 2020 season fair and square. Obviously he was thankful that there was no safety car to ruin your race of any kind. You had coped brilliantly against your older teammate and your talent truly showed.

Max was given the signal to head out with the hand painted trophy. He was honestly kind of scared to drop it. But he made it across the stage and handed it out to you.

You proudly took the trophy from Max after you bowed in respect. He may have been your friend, but he was your king first.

The ceramic trophy was held high once it was safely in your hands. Jokingly you hugged it tight as you gently stepped down off the podium. Ollie gawked at your childishness before spraying you with the champagne.

With trophy set down a nice ways away, you took your own bottle. Except, instead of spraying Ollie, you pointed it at Max, whose jaw was on the floor as you came after him with the liquid.

If you were having fun now, you wouldn’t expect what was coming later that night.

And you said yes.

Earth 12399

“Zusje!”

Your eyes widened at the familiar squeaky and young voice. You turned your whole body away from your race engineer to only be taken down in the knees. Once you were on the floor, you laps was immediately filled with a small body that had bleach blond hair and bright blue eyes.

“Maxy, Ik heb je gemist Kleintje!”

“Uh Y/n, is everything good?” Charles’s voice sounded from above. You stared back at your teammate in the red overalls. You grabbed under the child’s arms and hoisted him up along with yourself.

“Yep! Charles meet Max. Max meet Charlie.”

Max’s small eyes widened before he tucked himself in your neck. Your hand came up and rubbed his back as you cooed. You turned back to Charles.

“He’s a bit shy in front of his favorite driver.”

You poked Max’s side and his giggles filled the room. The small one turned his head and peered at the Monegasque whose eyes were wide, looking at the child in his teammate’s arms.

“Didn’t know you had a kid.”

Your jaw dropped at his statement.

“He’s not my kid, idiot. He’s my brother,” you hissed, lightly bouncing Max up and down as you swayed side to side.

“Oooohhhh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah oh. I’m younger than you.”

“One night stand?”

“Charles!”

The brunet laughed loudly, making Max giggle a bit with him. You looked down into his blue eyes.

“Oh so you think that’s funny hm? I’m getting bullied.”

Max only giggled more before pointing at Charles.

“Rari?”

You lovingly stared at him in your arms. “Yep, Rari.” You saw how Charles was staring at Max. “You want to hold him?”

Charles dropped everything (only his water bottle) and reached out to take Max. Once he was in Charles’s arms, Max immediately rested his head on his shoulder and gripped the red suit. You smiled fondly at the two.

“He’s so small,” Charles whispered after seeing the kid’s eyes close in slumber.

You ruffled the spiky blond hair. “Yeah, he’s only 3 though. Full of wonder.”

“Y/n!”

Ah, there was your mother. You looked over and saw Sophie walking with your other sister Victoria. Thankfully, your dad was nowhere to be found. After you found out what he had done to Max, you put in a restraining order against him immediately.

It was a hard discussion with your mom when you told her that she needed to divorce him. Tears were shed and hearts were broken. But, you never wanted to see another bruise on your younger brother again.

It was fine if he did that to you. But to Max?

Jos wouldn’t stand a chance against your anger. He had shaped you to be like him.

A racer. A winner. The best.

But being the best wasn’t supposed to be the most important anymore. And if he wanted you to be like him, then he’ll get his own anger thrown back into his face. You remembered how your fist met his eye after you found Max alone with him one night. An ugly purple thing covered Max’s tiny wrist and there was a scratch on his face.

You had just returned home from a triple header and wanted to surprise your family. Only, you came home to Max’s screams of terror and Jos Verstappen yelling. You didn’t think, you just did. Sophie and Victoria returned home to multiple police cars and an ambulance in front of the house. When they finally were told what happened, they found you covering Max��s body with your arms as you spoke to one of the paramedics. A blanket was draped around your shoulders and a bruise was forming on your face as well.

After that, you moved your entire family to Monaco with you. Your house was plenty bit and you only shared it with Charles whenever he came over to play FIFA. But now, whenever he wanted to play, you insisted on going to his house.

It might have been to protect your family. Or it might have had to do with a certain handsome brother that Charles had.

Definitely the first one.

Hence why Charles had never met Max beforehand. But that also didn’t stop the little gremlin from choosing Charles as his favorite driver and not his sister.

It’s not like you were bitter or anything.

You walked toward your family and gave the two women a hug.

“I’m glad that you could come today!” you told them, truly happy at their arrival. It wasn’t like it was a big race. You had already won the championship last week, which sadly they weren’t able to make it. But Max was still up past his bedtime when you got home after. The kid sleepily muttered that he was glad you won, even though you had beaten Charles. Yet, you reminded him that Charles had won the year before and it was sissy’s turn.

Sophie looked at Max in Charles’s arms. “He’s so comfortable. I honestly thought he’d be scared of men after what happened.”

Victoria nodded in agreement.

You crossed your arms. “I think that Max knows that dad wasn’t a good man. And well, he still loves Lando though.”

“Is that Max?”

Speaking of.

Max’s head jerked up from Charles’s shoulder at the familiar voice. His little head swerved in the direction of the papaya clad driver.

“Lanno!”

Max started to squirm in the captive arms. Charles quickly set him down, not wanting him to fall. Max immediately ran to the Briton, who picked him up with ease. At the sight of the two, Charles pouted.

You knocked him with your shoulder. “Don’t’ worry, you’re still his favorite. He bought Max a toy McLaren for his birthday and Max demanded that I paint it red and add a 16 on the side.”

Charles seemed to gleam with pride at the confession.

“Don’t tell Lando though. He’d be devastated.”

What Lando didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hey little man. You ready to watch the race?”

Max’s head bobbed quickly.

“Are you going to watch Lanno win?”

At that, Max shook his head making Lando’s eyes widened.

“Little Verstappen I am hurt.” Lando clutched his hand to his heart in mock hurt. Max only stared at him while the McLaren driver put on a bit of a show.

Charles piped up from beside you. “Max, is Charlie going to win?”

Max, once again, shook his head. Now that made you confused, because Max always cheered for Charles. You cocked your head as you looked at your brother.

“Then who Maxy?”

The boy shyly pointed at you before muttering, “Zusje gaat jullie allemaal verslaan.”

Not that made you laugh out loud, causing even more confusion to the two male drivers. You covered your mouth as you continued to laugh. Sophie and Victoria laughing as well.

You smirked at your rival and teammate.

“He said I’m going to kick your asses.”

Max gasped as he heard your words.

“Bad words!”

Max pouted as he was put down by Lando. His little legs ran to you and his arms stretched out wanting you to pick him up. You squatted and scooped him up. Your arms tightened around him as he tried his best to hug you.

“Sorry for the bad words kid.”

“’S ok,” he slurred, getting even more tired. It was definitely his nap time. And it was time to get in your car. You handed him back to Sophie, who gave you a kiss on your head as you stooped. You gave a quick hug to Victoria before going back to kiss Max’s head.

“I’ll win for you ok?”

Obviously, he couldn’t hear you, but you would say it anyway. You turned away from your family to get ready.

“Going soft on me L/n?” Lando quipped, making his way out of your garage.

You discreetly flipped him off, to which he laughed at as he left. It took about 30 minutes to get in the car and get everything ready. You swerved your head, making sure the helmet was tight. Your eyes flitted about the garage and caught sight of your family again. Max was now wide awake and waving at you.

Your gloved hand reached out and displayed your fingers wide. The little boy reached over in his mom’s arms and clapped your hand with his small one. You were given the signal that it was time and drove off once Sophie was out of the way.

Her and Max watched as you rounded the corner in your red Ferrari, out of sight.

Sophie leaned down and kissed her youngest’s head.

“Mijn baby, zal zus winnen?”

Max’s small voice was just loud enough for her to hear.

“Ja mama, sij is kampioen.”

Earth 9596

(btw - I made the max pic because no one has good edits of him in a ferrari suit)

“Scuderia Ferrari Signs Y/n L/n for the 2024 Season”

“Ferrari Mistake? The Formula 1 Team Signs the Youngest Driver to Date”

“Ferrari Becomes the First Formula 1 Team to Sign Female Driver”

“Former F1 Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Backs Goddaughter as Her Race Engineer”

“How Will Verstappen React to His Younger Teammate on the Track?”

You hadn’t known what to expect when you arrived at the paddock first thing on Saturday morning. You had convinced Lorenzo to bring you early so you could at least avoid some of the crowds, if not all. However, it seemed like everyone else liked that plan as well, and the paddock was full.

You hung back near Enzo as the two of you walked side by side. Your hands gripped your backpack straps hard, turning your knuckles almost stark white. Thankfully, your sunglasses kept your wide and scared eyes from the public. It wasn’t that you were scared of people. It’s what you thought that they thought about you that made you nervous.

Just 17 and baby faced.

Something that wasn’t heard of in 2024. Yet, with older drivers retiring back and forth, the FIA had to make new changes to deal with the need of rookie drivers. Hence why Lorenzo pushed to have Ferrari sign you as early as possible. You basically went from karting, to Formula 2 and didn’t even start your second season.

It came as a shock when Lewis Hamilton finally retired after only one year at Ferrari. You had thought that he’d want to get one more championship to make it to 9. But, life throws curveballs and it was headed straight to you.

Now you had to face your new teammate, a champion himself, Max Verstappen. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that he was talking to Charles Leclerc and Fernando Alonso. The two black Mercedes polos stood out in contrast to Max’s red one. You took a quick glance at the two drivers and realized that they were already watching you.

Your cheeks heated up as you quickened your steps to get to the garage faster. Once you were in the safety of the garage, you let out a deep sigh.

Lorenzo looked at you with a sad smile. He knew you were going to be overwhelmed for the entire day. He took his backpack off and reached down in, fingers feeling for your headphones. He took them out and handed them to you.

You immediately put them on, connected them to your phone, turned on the music, and got to work on your racing journal. You wanted to go over your notes before the race. While you were distracted, Enzo took a little walk, trying to find some coffee.

He ended up walking past the group of three drivers and smiled at Charles. The Italian knew of him growing up and was excited to see him in a team that gave him a good championship winning car.

He nodded his head toward your new teammate. “Max.”

Max’s eyes lightened at the familiar face. “Enzo!”

The two bro-hugged before parting, letting Enzo greet the two Merc drivers. When he was done, Max had a teasing attitude.

“Can’t convince you to stay as my engineer? Don’t get me wrong, I love GP, but you knew me better.”

Enzo smiled and shook his head. “No can do. Gotta take care of my kid.”

Fernando entered the conversation. “Where is she? We saw her walking but then she disappeared.”

The older man scratched his head. “Yeah, she tends to do that. She’s a bit nervous.”

Charles scoffed. “I’ll say. They shouldn’t have said anything until Wednesday. Sky Sports announced it way too early.”

The Monegasque had something similar happen to him when he first joined Mercedes. It had all been planned that he would take Valtteri Bottas’s seat mid-season. Yet, Sky Sports announced it before Mercedes had a chance to even say that Bottas had wanted to retire early due to an illness. The media had made Charles into a seat-stealing villain his first season.

The engineer nodded sadly. “I think she’s also nervous about the team.”

Max looked at him with a shocked expression. “The team?”

Enzo waved his hands. “She has full confidence. Y/n’s a bit nervous about trying to be on your level Max.”

Well, that didn’t settle well with the Dutchman. Great, he was excited to have such a young teammate: someone who he could get along with and help them grow in the sport. But now, you were afraid of him?

“She’s not scared of you Max, just nervous.”

Oh. He said that out loud.

Max glanced back at the garage. “Can I go talk to her.”

Enzo nodded before handing him a pen. “I forgot to give this to her, she’ll be looking for it. You don’t mind giving it to her right?”

“Not at all,” he responded, thankful for something that could break the ice between the two of you.

Max grasped the pen and made his way to the overly bright red garage. He really wished Ferrari would take a page out of Mercedes’s book and make everything black. But no, they had to show off the corsa rosso red.

You were too busy writing some notes down, with the wrong pen, to notice Max’s shoes now in your line of sight. The Dutchman lightly nudged your own shoe, which had your head jerking up to look at him.

Your eyes widened and your hands reached to pull your headphones off.

Max only smiled down at you. He thought that you looked like a scared mouse. He wondered if you were quiet like one as well.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

You could only shake your head no and scoot over as Max sat down on the concrete near you. The two of you sat in silence as you continued to scribble. Max suddenly remembered the pen in his hand.

“Here. Enzo wanted me to give this to you.”

Your fingers lightly touched his as you grabbed it from him.

To Max, you also reminded him of his sister at this age. Shy, meek, quiet. But he had seen your videos and your impressiveness on the track. Your overtakes were nothing to be overlooked. He heard you sigh as the pen now nicely glided over the pages.

The Dutchman let his eyes wander over the pages. He noticed that you were even taking notes on him as well.

You didn’t look at him, but you spoke, “If you break a bit later on turn 4, you can cut off another tenth.”

Your voice gave Max whiplash as he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him without being prompted. His mind ran as he tried to remember turn 4. When he did the calculations he was surprised to find that you were correct.

“How did you..”

“I watched your onboards from last season. You’re very, what’s the word,” you gave him a smirk, “predictable.”

Max’s jaw dropped, which caused you to laugh a bit. Max, although shocked, was glad that you were coming out of your shell a bit.

He leaned over to whisper, “Are you overwhelmed with the red as much as I am.”

You smiled as you whispered back, “It is positively draining. Why can’t they do black like Mercedes?”

Max threw his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

You pretended to think. “What if we gang up on them. They can’t resist both drivers.”

Max put on a weird accent, making his voice higher. “It’s either change the garage and everything to black or we walk.”

That made you snort which caused Max to wheeze.

Enzo was just on his way back with two coffees (both for him) when he heard the sound of you laughs mixed with Max’s. He smiled fondly at the two drivers. He took a sip before putting on his bright red headphones that he needed for qualifying. He coughed a bit, but it was soon over. Nothing like the sickness that he barely beat back in 2019. He was thankful that he got to continue to watch you grow.

Max asked, “How far do you think you’ll get in qualifying?”

You thought for a moment. “Uh, I hope to make it to Q2 if possible.”

The Dutchman lifted his hand to ruffle your hair. Your hands swatted at him as you pouted.

“I think you can get farther.”

You only shrugged. “We’ll see.”

The car was definitely your safe space. You felt as though you could finally breathe easier.

“Radio check please.”

“Loud and clear Enzo.”

“Ok, let’s get this bread.”

You shook your head as you sat in the car. “Please never say that again.”

Much to your and the team’s delight, you made it past Q1 and Q2. And you ended Q3 in the second row in P3. Max had just missed pole by mere hundredths. Charles Leclerc always had scarily good one lappers in the third session.

Max gave you a giant hug at the end of the session, very glad at your positioning.

As he had his arms around you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah. You were going to be great.”

Earth 331649

The big letters stood out to Max as his eyes began to water.

“Not Applicable for Adoption at this Time” was all the top said. He hadn’t bothered to read the rest. He knew what it was going to say. It’s what every letter said for the past few months.

They weren’t approved.

They traveled too much.

There weren’t any in their preferred age group that were adoptable right now.

They wouldn’t be able to take care of a baby.

They were…Max didn’t even want to mention the word.

He glanced at the gold band that adorned his ring finger on his left hand. The sight made his eyes water more. The paper was quickly crumpled and thrown to the side. The Dutchman leaned forward and put his hands over his face and just sobbed.

They had been trying for so long. The conversation had started two years ago as they lied in bed one night. They were nearing the ends of their careers, but they hadn’t wanted to wait until they were retired. They were sure in their marriage enough to where they both could handle a baby in their lives.

A mini them running around, playing with Jimmy and Sassy. The thought was too much to bear right now though.

The door clicked but Max hadn’t heard, he just continued to sob.

“Amore, I’m back from the shop. They had the pastries that you really liked. Amore?”

Max started sobbing harder. Before he heard knew it, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. He heard a big sigh as a head rested against his back.

“Another one?”

Max didn’t even reply, but his sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles. Charles glanced over at the crumpled paper that had been tossed to the side. He’s told Max time and time again to wait until he gets home to read them, but the older was always a bit too excited or anxious to wait. He bit his tough, not wanting to say anything that could upset the Dutchman even more.

“It will be all right.”

“Will it?” Max bit back, full of sadness and anger. But, it wasn’t anger at Charles. He was angry at the world.

“It will,” Charles hummed. However, the Monegasque was also getting run down by all the rejection letters. He didn’t know how much more he could take. But, he wanted to be strong for Max. For himself. For their hopeful future child.

“Every time Charlie. Every time, it’s always a different excuse.”

“Our time will come.”

“But what if it doesn’t? We aren’t getting any younger Charles.”

The Monegasque harshly inhaled. He stopped rubbing Max’s back. Although, he really didn’t know when he started.

He went to say something, yet his phone rang loudly, breaking the silence of the room. Charles muttered something about wanting to hang up, but his breath hitched at the sight of the name at the top of his phone. His thumb had never pressed the answer button.

He quickly put the call on speaker.

“Bonjour?”

“Ah, Mr. Verstappen?”

“This is he.”

“Is your husband here with you?”

Max perked up at the question. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was now paying attention. He scooted even closer to Charles, face almost in the phone.

Charles chuckled at Max’s closeness.

“Oui, he is here.”

“Ok, so we just got a call from the Princess Grace Hospital. We think you want to come here for this.”

Max gulped before whispering. “It is what we think it is?”

Charles held his breath as he and Max waited for the answer.

“Why don’t you come find out.”

The two of them could hear the playfulness as the their adoption agent hung up the phone. They looked into each other’s eyes before they dashed around, getting their shoes on. Max almost tripped as he hopped on one foot, his shoe getting caught on his finger. Charles chuckled as he bent to tie his own shoe.

Max was halfway out the door, still waiting.

“Come on Charlie.”

“Mon amore, are you forgetting something?”

Max patted his pockets and realized he forgot the key that were now dangling on Charles’s finger.

“Oh.”

Charles rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door, grabbing Max’s waste as he walked. The Dutchman quickly followed him to the Monegasque’s Ferrari Purosangue. He bought the SUV when he and Max put in their first adoption profile.

Max huffed as he noticed that Charles was going below the speed limit.

“Baby, can you maybe, hurry up?”

Charles only hummed as a reply. He did step on the gas a bit, but the Monaco speeds were slow as it. It wasn’t their fault that they drove ridiculously fast cars and his husband was currently high strung.

Charles put his hand on Max’s thigh and started to rub small circles, which in the long run did help Max calm down a bit.

The Dutchman had calmed down some by the time they parked in front. Charles started to get out of the car, but Max’s hand grabbed his arm before he got far. Charles recognized the look of fear on his husband’s face. His pointer finger found the golden band on Max’s finger and started to rub it.

“What if- What if- What if it happens again.”

Charles’s eyes drooped a bit at the sadness in Max’s voice.

“But what if it doesn’t?”

A glimmer of hope came back to Max’s eyes as he places a chaste kiss on Charles’s lips.

“Let’s go.”

With an unbuckle of his seatbelt, Max was out the door. Charles had to catch up to Max’s larger steps. His hand soon found Max’s as they walked in. He squeezed three times, and got three in return.

Charles look the lead as they approached the front desk. The lady at the computer had a nice attitude as she gave them a smile when she looked up from her screen.

“May I help you gentlemen?”

“Ah, yes, my husband and I got a call from our adoption agent, Mitch Walker.”

The lady’s eyebrows raised as she started to type on her computer once again. Max bounced in his place, willing the lady to type faster.

“Ah, floor three, room 89.”

“Thank you,” Charles stated, already watching Max walk toward the elevator. He chuckled as he slowly followed, knowing the elevator would arrive when he got there. Inside the contraption, Max read the list of floors.

His finger traced them until he got to the third floor.

“Charlie.”

Charles looked where his finger had landed.

Delivery floor.

Before Charles could react, the elevator doors opened. They both bolted into the hallway.

86.

87.

88.

89.

They both paused in front.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Charles grabbed the nob and slowly twisted. The room was a bit dim and Mitch was standing in the middle of the room. She turned at the sound of the door and a smile made a way on her face.

“Hi guys,” she whispered. She stepped closer and pulled a curtain that cut the room in half.

“Hi,” Charles replied, also whispering.

Mitch put her hands together. “So, we have a little someone who was given up today. If everything goes well, you two might be going home with a baby today.”

Tears welled up in Max’s eyes at her words. He choked down a sob and bit his knuckle.

“I just need you two to wash your hands and then you can meet her.”

Charles whispered, “Her?”

Mitch only nodded.

This time, Charles was the one to let out a small sob. They gingerly walked over to the sink, hands bumping into each other as they rinsed under the water. Once dry, Mitch dragged the curtain back over.

In the middle of the smaller section near a couch, lied a bassinet. With bated breath, Charles and Max peered over. Tears now welling in both their eyes. Max’s finger gently moved towards the baby’s face.

He lightly grazed the soft cheek, causing the baby to squirm. Max had never jerked his hand away from something faster. Charles let out a small and quiet laugh. The baby’s hand was open, inviting Charles to put his finger in the tiny palm.

The baby suddenly curled her fingers around the one finger, eyes suddenly opening. The Dutchman wanted to cry once again. Her green eyes peered up at him. Max’s eyes caught a tuft of hair and he gently pulled back the tiny hat. Blond hair appeared in a small bit. He gently pulled the hat back into place.

His blond hair.

Charles’s green eyes.

Charles turned to Mitch.

“Can I hold her.”

A single nod had Charles scooping the baby in his arms, and he placed her on his chest. His body leaned back just a bit to accommodate her. Max immediately took his phone out and took a picture. He was definitely going to use that as his lock screen picture from now on.

Max watched as Charles sat on the small couch in the corner. Max followed suit and sat next to him.

The baby was looking right at him.

“Hello little one,” he whispered, finding the courage to graze her face once again. A small smile appeared on the girl’s face, but it was short lived. But, Max had seen it and he was happy that it was directed at him.

“-ax, Amore.”

His eyes shot up to Charles’s face.

“Yes?”

The brunet rolled his eyes. “I asked: Do you want to hold her?”

Max could only nod. Charles gently handed her over to his husband and watched as his big hands cradled the baby. One hand was gently placed on her bum and the other on her head. He cooed at the man and baby, seeing tears stream down his face.

Mitch quietly approached the couple. “So, it seems like everything is going well. I can almost read your minds and I got your application approved. It’ll take a while for everything to come in but you are good to take her home.”

Charles stood and gave her a giant hug: big enough for the both of them. She patted Charles’s back before grinning widely again.

“You know, she doesn’t have a name yet.”

Max’s head whipped from the baby to the woman.

“We get to name her?” he questioned, heart filling with so much love. There were so many names that he and Charles had picked out. The first name would be something special, something not used before. The middle names would be in honor of loved ones past and present. And then, the baby would take both last names.

Mitch came over with a certificate and pen in hand.

“Do you two know or do you need a moment?”

Max nodded at Charles and then looked back down at the beautiful green eyes that stared up with him.

Charles did the honors.

“Her name is Y/n Julia Sophie Pascale Antoinette Leclerc-Verstappen.”

Little Y/n. Oh how the world wasn’t ready. But it would welcome her with open arms.

Earth 959589

“Shit!” you yelled, tumbling out of bed. You were late, oh you were so late. Max was going to kill you and you could say goodbye to your seat.

Before the season even started.

You tripped as you pulled on a shoe, face planting back into the bed. Your phone was currently blowing up with notifications as it rested on the side table. You hastily pulled on your Red Bull polo and grabbed your jeans. Your foot got stuck since you put your shoes on first.

Great move Y/n, great move.

You finally got a hand on your phone and answered the call.

“Where are you? Max is close to having an aneurism,” your race engineer hissed through the phone.

“I know Charles, but my alarm never went off!”

Your head was pressing your phone to your shoulder as you talked and walked toward the elevator.

“Just please get here ASAP,” he sighed. You could see the man rubbing his eyebrows, even if you couldn’t see him.

“I’m getting in the car now.”

“You better be thankful. I’ll see you here.”

When you arrived to the paddock, you went directly to the interviews, which you were late for as well. You winced as you walked in front of everyone and sat down, face ablaze in red.

Lando poked your side. At least he went with the polo so you two could be matching some. He leaned over when a question was directed to Arthur.

“Max is going to kill you.” He smirked as he leaned away. Your microphone accidentally picked up the smack to his shoulder. Some eyes landed on you as you tried to duck away.

Arthur looked over at you. “Nice of you to join us champ.”

You shrugged. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Sure.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse you?”

Before you could get any farther, a journalist asked a question directed toward you.

“Y/n, if I may, how is this season a bit different than last?”

Your eyes looked up as you thought of a good answer. “Uh, well, there was a lot of change within Red Bull this past winter break. My old teammate went to being my team principal. And then he somehow convinced Charles to join as well and be my race engineer.”

A scoff came from Arthur that cause you to lean to look at him.

“Are you all right Leclerc?”

The Monegasque rolled his eyes.

“I would like to have my brother back please.”

“Well, too bad I got him first. And then back to my question. Lando became my teammate and he’s giving me a run for my money.”

Lando smirked at that statement.

“Ah yes, the cheeky little bugger he is. But, I’m really on track for my second championship. Maybe next year I’ll let Lando get one.”

The journalist thanked you for your good answer.

Fortunately the press conference ended after that. Yet, it was unfortunate for you since you could feel Max’s glare from miles away. You stopped, causing Arthur to bump into your back.

“Any chance I can come hide in your driver’s room?”

Arthur shook his head yes, giving you some hope.

“No.”

You visibly deflated as you watched him walk toward the bright red garage.

A sigh left your lips as you stalked toward the garage. Charles gave you a sympathetic look as you walked past. His hand rubbed your shoulder until he gently pushed you toward Max. You winced under the Dutchman’s glare.

“My office Y/n.”

You could only follow him into the office. You took the first seat you passed in front of the large desk. Max rubbed his eyebrows and sighed. But, you panicked.

“I’m so sorry Max. I swore I turned on my alarms last night, but I was up late going over data again because I can’t let the team down again like last race. I know that I can make up the speed. And then my phone was on silent and then I tripped on my shoe and the car got stuck in traffic. I swear I went straight to the conference. I won’t be late again I promise, just please don’t take away my seat.”

Max watched in horror as you lost your composure right in front of him. This monologue only told him that you were truly scared that he’d kick you off the team because of a little DNF last race. His heart dropped as he saw tears stream down your face as you visibly shook.

He stood up quickly and rounded the desk. His hands dropped on your shoulders.

“Kid, kid. Listen to me. You’re not going to lose your seat. I was just worried when you didn’t show up and when you didn’t answer mine or Charles’s calls.”

“Oh.”

Max wanted to laugh. “Yes, oh. Do you remember all the times I used to show up late? The times that Charles showed up late as well?”

You let out a chuckle as you remembered both Ferrari drivers would show up a bit late. No one ever seemed to mind. You let out a sigh of relief.

Max stood up and walked toward the door. “Now, let’s go out there and what do we do?”

“Kick names and take ass!”

Max rolled his eyes. “Sure kid. Sure.”

Earth 1218 - Present Earth

You gasped as you sat up in your bed.

“Kid?” Max questioned, head popping up from the couch. Vegas had been super early again and you and Max didn’t want to go back to the hotel when you had FP2 soon. So, the two of you just curled up in his driver’s room. His voice was groggy as he had just gotten up from an interrupted nap as well.

You clutched your head and groaned.

“I had such weird dreams.”

“Oh. Tell me?” Max’s head was already back down on his pillow.

“You were a king, and then you were my younger brother?”

Max snorted but let you continue. He knew that you wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway.

“And then you were my teammate at Ferrari and Charles drove for Mercedes, Enzo was there. Oh, and then you and Charles were married.”

��Kid you have been watching too many Lestappen edits on Twitter and TikTok.”

You only grumbled.

“I do not. Finally you were my team principal.”

“Strange. Go back to sleep.”

Max never got an answer back, because you were already zonked. He chucked and turned back over, phone clenched in his hand as he watched the edit of Charles’s 2022 sunset lap into his 2023 pre-storm qualification. However, he didn’t know that his volume was so loud.

“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain…And I could see it all in my mind…”

“I KNEW IT! YOU WATCH THEM TOO!”

“GO TO SLEEP!”

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

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il-miele-che-scrive · 9 months

Note

Can't get over dj Lando in Bali for new years so can I request a smau where he's partying there with reader aka Max's sister? And she's like a dutch influencer so people are kinda like 🤨what they doin doe

My first fic of 2024 🫶 happy new year and enjoy, hoping you don't mind I made Y/n into an ex-junkie for the ✨drama✨, but I've had this idea on my mind for quite some time now, because it's like she's the opposite of her brother. Also I couldn't not make Y/n be friends with a few other drivers too, and also the caption on the last post is 🤌 I loved making this fanfic

y/n_verstappen A last minute decision to spend the end of the year in Bali

view all comments

maxverstappen1 Have fun with your girls, don't get in too much trouble

↳y/n_verstappen Yeah... just me and my girls... me & my girls & I

↳username2 guys I have a feeling she's plotting smth

↳username1 we love to see big brother max being the dad

↳username3 that's cuz Jos did a pretty shitty job

yourfriend1 missed this ❤️ grateful to be ending this year with you @/y/n_verstappen @/yourfriend2

↳y/n_verstappen you don't ever know how grateful I am to be in Bali with my favorite people!

↳yourfriend2 I love you guys 🥹😭

↳username2 SHE SAID PEOPLE I repeat she said PEOPLE instead of GIRLS

landonorris Wow I wonder who took these pics of you, they're very nice

↳y/n_verstappen I hired a professional photographer😼pretty expensive if you ask me, but also worth it

↳maxverstappen1 Please quit flirting with my sister

↳landonorris @/maxverstappen1 I'm flirting with the photographer lmao he's very talented if you didn't notice

charles_leclerc Looking forward to hanging out when you're back ☀

↳y/n_verstappen Charlie I went to Switzerland with you before Xmas 😭 it's been a week

↳charles_leclerc Arthur made me post this comment

↳y/n_verstappen tell him I miss him then 🫶 you? not so much 🖕

↳arthur_leclerc I kiss you too @/y/n_verstappen

↳arthur_leclerc *miss

↳y/n_verstappen phew 😮‍💨 you've almost triggered a particular someone

↳username2 this someone being your brother, right Y/n? RIGHT Y/N?!

↳yourfriend1 sure you can go vroom in circles but can you fight? 🤺

↳yourfriend2 that's not the person you should target this question at and we both know that 👀

↳username2 SOMEONE CRACK THIS CODE PLS 😭

↳username3 i mean, she's definitely hinting at Y/n dating a driver 🤷‍♀️ maybe someone from the current f1 grid even

↳username4 @/username2 @/username3 y'all be jumping into assumptions too quickly

username3 Guys I still can't believe Y/n was with the Leclercs in Switzerland and Alexandra wasn't

↳username4 Shut up, Y/n has been friends with the Leclerc brothers ever since Max and Charles' karting era

↳username3 wtf chill 💀 I'm joking (although I wouldn't complain if she ended up dating Charles or Arthur)

y/n_verstappen Adventures are better together

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landonorris The mask suits you, never take it off ❤️

↳username1 HELP why's he so mean to Max's sister💀

↳y/n_verstappen watch out in Bahrain 2024 🔫 sent a screenshot of your comment to the family groupchat

↳charles_leclerc you sent it to our groupchat with max and carlos

↳y/n_verstappen exactly

↳landonorris excuse me @/y/n_verstappen may I be added to the family groupchat?

↳y/n_verstappen excuse me @/landonorris, are you family?

↳landonorris that's my goal for 2024

username5 Look at Y/n having fun in Bali for her brother's money 😬

↳yourfriend1 more like the secret photographer's money 😇*this comment was deleted*

username3 MISS, DON'T ACT LIKE WE HAVEN'T SEEN YOUR COMMENT

↳username2 AND DON'T ACT LIKE IT WAS AN ACCIDENT

charles_leclerc better than the adventures in Switzerland? 🤔

↳maxverstappen1 cringe

↳carlossainz55 cringe

↳georgerussell63 cringe

↳yourfriend1 cringe

↳yourfriend2 cringe

↳landonorris cringe

↳y/n_verstappen jealous Lando?

↳landonorris wtf 5 other people said cringe and I'm the jealous one?

↳y/n_verstappen well, technically 4 other people since Max is my brother

↳landonorris 4 other people and I'm the jealous one?

↳y/n_verstappen Max is my brother, I only tolerate Carlos, no one likes George and his shirtless pics, and my girls are basically pets

↳yourfriend1 arf!

carlossainz55 I thought you can't swim

↳y/n_verstappen I prefer not to swim, but the selfie was worth it

landonorris I've changed my mind about the mask, it's lovely, where can I get one? 🥰

↳y/n_verstappen wow that was quick, I wonder if @/maxverstappen1 has anything to do with it

↳y/n_verstappen anyway, I got it just down the road on my morning walk

↳landonorris how would I know where that is 🙄

↳y/n_verstappen want me to walk you there? 🙄

↳username2 DOES IT MEAN LANDO IS IN BALI TOO?!

↳username3 @/username2 GIRL THEY MIGHT BE ON VACATION TOGETHER

↳username2 i knew she was plotting something 😭

y/n_verstappen Darling, I fancy you

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username1 WHO IS THAT MAN 🔫 I JUST WANNA TALK

maxverstappen1 Y/n pick up the phone, you can't post and disappear

↳username2 rip to whoever is the mysterious man

↳username3 imagine your brother in law is max verstappen and he hates you before you even meet

↳landonorris ikr, terrible, i could never

↳username3 WTF LANDO

yourfriend1 my fav couple but when will you hard launch?

↳charles_leclerc asking the most important question right there

carlossainz55 I'm tired of knowing who he is and being forced to keep quiet

↳maxverstappen1 what? you found out before me?

↳carlossainz55 in Y/n's defence, the man couldn't keep it a secret

↳username2 alright chat now we know it's someone close to Carlos

↳username1 @/username2 CHARLES?

↳username2 @/username1 no, it can't be him, look a few comments above

↳username3 @/username1 @/username2 I'm being delulu but... Arthur? I'm just manifesting it's him

↳username2 and Charles wouldn't know?

↳username3 well, Max didn't 🤡

↳charles_leclerc don't be shy Carlito tell us

danielricciardo Ki ki ki ra

↳landonorris KI KI AY

↳y/n_verstappen I wanted to say it 😡 why are u so quick??

↳landonorris well, you're trying to compete with an f1 driver, better luck next time

username2 GUYS what if it's LANDO??? Close to Carlos ☑ can vroom circles ☑ possibly also in Bali rn ☑

↳username1 you might have a point plus the caption is Taylor Swift and Lando is a swiftie

↳username5 Is he? I thought it's a British thing to say you have a crush on someone

↳username2 @/username5 well, he's British, so another hint from Y/n I guess

username7 i surely hope her and Lando aren't dating, she's a retired drug addict

↳username1 leave the past in the past, let this girl be happy

arthur_leclerc y/n has a boyfriend y/n has a boyfriend

↳y/n_verstappen don't worry, someday you'll have one too

↳arthur_leclerc let's see if you'll keep this attitude introducing your new bf to Max 😄🖕

y/n_verstappen Als je bitch wil chillen is het geen probleem dan ga ik erheen, ik kom niet alleen want ik heb drank en drugs

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yourfriend1 amazing night!! 💜💜

↳y/n_verstappen we loved the music didn't we 😼

↳landonorris you're welcome 😌

username7 the caption 🥶

↳username2 chill out it's just a song literally!!

↳username3 i can't even remember all the times I've seen Max edited to this song on tiktok lmao

arthur_leclerc You clubbing without me?

↳y/n_verstappen it was a girls night 😇🖕

↳yourfriend2 no it wasn't 🫶

↳yourfriend1 tbh it was, her boyfriend spent more time DJing anyway

username1 why can't they make it official already 🥹

↳username2 I bet Carlos is wondering the same

landonorris I hope you tipped the DJ well for entertaining you half the night

↳y/n_verstappen I guess if you can call entertaining him for the 2nd half of the night in our hotel room a good tip

↳maxverstappen1 WHAT AM I READING

↳charles_leclerc asking myself the same question @/maxverstappen1

↳arthur_leclerc too much information

↳carlossainz55 Does it mean I don't have to keep the secret anymore?

maxverstappen1 Delete this post

↳y/n_verstappen no ❤️

josverstappen7 Gelukkig nieuwjaar maar ik vind deze fotos niet leuk*

↳y/n_verstappen wtf @/maxverstappen1

*happy new year but I don't like these photos

landonorris I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter, she is the best thing that's ever been mine

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y/n_verstappen *not so* careful, but you get a point for Taylor Swift lyrics

↳landonorris I'm literally in love with you

↳y/n_verstappen surely not more than I am in love with you ❤️

↳charles_leclerc cringe

↳arthur_leclerc cringe

↳oscarpiastri cringe

↳logansargeant cringe

↳yourfriend1 shut up all of you

y/n_verstappen btw just because I'm in love with you doesn't mean I can't kill you for posting the third pic

↳landonorris pls you'd never

↳y/n_verstappen I still have the screenshot that could make Max crash into you 🔫

carlossainz55 Finally, I was starting to worry

↳username2 WAR IS OVER 😭

oscarpiastri So happy for you guys!

↳landonorris double date when?

maxverstappen1 You're the only person I'd accept as my brother in law

↳landonorris thanks champ xx 🙏

↳username3 HE'S SO SASSY I CANT-

↳charles_leclerc what about @/arthur_leclerc? I thought you liked him, I thought we had plans

↳y/n_verstappen YOU HAD PLANS?

↳arthur_leclerc YOU HAD PLANS?

↳landonorris YOU HAD PLANS?

username5 I'd love to see Y/n and Arthur as a couple, but I'm so happy for her and Lando 😭

↳username3 nahhh Y/n and Arthur totally have besties vibe, siblings even, can't imagine them as a couple

username1 okay guys so do you think they speak dutch or english when they're alone?

↳username3 Do you think Lando can speak dutch well enough?

↳username1 well, I don't know, just wondering, but he's half Belgian

↳username5 I imagine their conversations to be mostly english mixed with dutch and french, very chaotic and people around don't get anything they say

↳yourfriend1 I can confirm this, it's very frustrating for a person who knows only english

↳username1 does Y/n know french?

↳y/n_verstappen I was forced to learn both french AND italian hanging out with Charles and Arthur, and with Lando I speak mostly english, but I try to mix some dutch into it, however no french here because I'm traumatized <3

↳username1 aaaaaa we love a multilingual queen 🫶

↳username3 so now Lando learns dutch for both his mother and his girlfriend 🥹

↳y/n_verstappen he has a lot to learn, but at least his flemish accent is kinda cute!!

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 smau #formula 1 social media au #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au

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cheriladycl01 · 6 months

Text

Miami Waves - Logan Sargeant x NewZealandOlympicSurfing! Reader

Plot: Miami boy wants to see if his Olympic surfing girl can keep up with the Floridian waves and you end up getting to know his colleagues more in the process

“Thank you for coming and being here with me” he smiles, his parents had been wanting to meet you for a while. You’d started dating when he first got into F2 and was put under the Williams Young Driver Programme.

“You knew I wouldn’t say no. I’ve been wanting to meet them just as much!” You exclaim. You were a little nervous to meet them, as in your mind Logan was it for you, this was the boy you wanted to marry and have a family with. And even if he didn’t feel the same way right now, that was okay. Not that you knew if he did as you’d never discussed your guys future.

But if you had, he would have told you he felt the exact same way.

Meeting his parents was so much fun, and you got to meet his older brother who teased the both of you relentlessly.

You were used to surfing in Australia and New Zealand. They were the closest to you, and there wasn’t quite any waves like their were on the Australian Coastline. That’s actually where you’d won, one of your first ever championships in surfing. Two years later and you were a Silver Medalists.

“Well my family love you. I’m pretty sure they wanted you to move in” he laughs, Logan lived at home all through his career in F2 and he still visited often as he always said how he felt like an outcast on the F1 grid.

Alex helped but he’d drifted apart from Oscar and had to watch him form a really strong bond with Lando.

He still talked to his friends from his days in Prema as well but everything but you felt so disconnected lately.

So spending those two weeks with his family and you in Miami in the beach villa you'd all rented was vital for the both of you. You felt like you'd been so busy running around, travelling the world with Logan all the time, surfboard rentals at every new place you went so you could train and sometimes travelling for your own championships.

You spent the two weeks doing the most mundane stuff, like cooking together with Logan, building sandcastles, teaching him how to paddle board before showing him the intricacies that came with surfing, which you thought considering his concentration and hand-eye coordination in an F1 car he'd be good at but he couldn't stay on the board once.

Your favourite thing was his family getting really excited to show your their favourite local restaurants in Florida.

You were currently sat on your surfboard with your legs in the water and hands on the middle part of it, watching everything in the neck high water below you.

The water's were crystal clear and you could see the little fishes swimming around playing through the sand. You were swaying a little bit where the quieter, unrideable waves were lapping over your board and sending you in random directions.

You were peacefully watching everything go by, until that peace was ruined by Logan, coming running into the water in his basketball shorts making you look over to him in shock.

"Logan?" you asked as he swam up to hold into your board, you scooted back so that he could haul himself up and sit opposite you on the board.

"Erm, so ... kind of last minute but you about to meet Oscar, Arthur and Freddie" Logan said, trying to give you his cute teddy bear smile, but all that was running through your body was shock.

It was a bit strange but you hadn't actually met his friends, you were very very busy with training for the next Olympics and another set of Championships in New Zealand when Logan was in F2, so you didn't see him in the paddock as much as you do now, and if you did you were nervous and kept to yourself.

"No, stop. I'm basically naked!" you exclaim looking down at your cleavage that wasn't well covered up by your bikini.

"Come on, lets go meet them. And get you a cover-up because I don't trust them" he laughs, placing a hand and the side of your neck before pulling you into a passionate kiss. You guys moved closer to each other to the point where you were basically sat on his lap. A wave a little to large came and toppled you both off the board making you both come up sputtering in shock.

You swim to where the water is knee deep and see three boys watching you.

"Oh" you mutter, knowing exactly who they were.

"Baby, these are my friends" he offers, grabbing your coverup and handing it to you so you could chuck it on.

"Yeah i gathered" you chuckle.

You spent the day with the boys, Oscar was the only one that could surf and you found yourself getting on with all of them, Oscar the most who became like a sort of Oceanic brother to you, being from Australia.

Arthur and Freddie were a whole other story, constantly flirting with you to try and get a rise out of Logan which you couldn't help but giggle at but always grab his hand, arm of leg in a comforting way to let him know none of it was affecting you.

"So, how are you feeling about the Paris Olympics?" Freddie asks as you were all sat around a bonfire, telling stories.

"Yeah confident, I'm excited to be able to participate in it for a second year running! Going for Gold and all that..." you grin.

"Well... we will all be there to watch you, right Logan?" Arthur grins, making you shake your head again.

y/user

Liked by logansargeant, arthur_leclerc and oscarpiastri

y/user: Missing NZ P1🇳🇿🥝 but Miami and Hubby are treating me well P2-4 🇺🇸🦅

Tagged One Person

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logansargeant: Out of all the pictures you could have used of me on the beach … 😩

-> y/user: baby, I had sunburn in all of our ones 💋

-> logansargeant: but you make such a pretty tomato 🍅

-> y/user: outside for you tonight

-> logansargeant: arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, frederickvestiofficial I’m in the dog house boys, help me out!

-> arthur_leclerc: sounds like a you problem, Y/N looking radiant as always 🌸

-> oscarpiastri: maybe you shouldn’t have called your girl a tomato? You hit those Miami waves Y/N 🏄🏼‍♀️🌊

-> frederikvestiofficial: Y/N deserves better 🫣🫶🏼

williamsracing: incredible stuff from you! 🦋💙

Instagram Story Caption:

I prefer the Miami sunsets 🌅

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

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novaursa · 17 days

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Hello, can I order a Rhaegar Targaryen x reader stark? younger twin sister than lyanna stark but reader had hair white as snow that's why they called her the white wolf reader arrived at the king's landing with his father weeks after his brothers and sister arrived Prince Rhaegar Targaryen fell in love with her at the first moment but not her with him. She was allergic to princes and princesses, she understood the cruelty of the world and that no one did anything without a reason behind it.

So yes, Rhaergar did kidnap her, yes, he took her, yes, he imprisoned her in the tower of joy until she agreed to be his. Rhaigar killed his father, hurt Robert Barateon, who tried to get his fiancee's sister back. Lyanna asked many times to see her sister, Rhaigar never allowed her. Lyanna, through tears, shouted to Rhaigar that he should never have told her that day where her sister would be riding.

the now king smiled changing my mind and letting her see it When he took her to the chambers he saw a door full of chains and padlocks when he entered. Her sister, the great white wolf warrior, saw her sitting in a rocking chair with her beautiful eyes now opaque without shine and with a bulging belly obviously in sinta. Lyanna ran to her sister through tears, hugging her. reader directing his gaze to rhaigar my king husband who is she? Rhaigar is someone who wants to separate you from me

reader pushed lyanna to the ground getting up shaking her dress going to her king Rhaigar smiles at Lyanna while You no longer have anything here, girl, go back to the north. Lyanna wipes her tears and gets up, I swear I will kill you for what you did to her. leaving the room while the doors were closed

Please

The Chains of the White Wolf

- Summary: dark!Rhaegar kidnaps you and locks you away in the Tower of Joy.

- Paring: stark!reader/dark!Rhaegar Targaryen

- Note: I've left out some information that can't fit into one scene of 1000 words alone and kept only important ones for the plot.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The ride to the Tower of Joy was long, the heat of the Dornish sun beating down mercilessly as Lyanna Stark guided her horse over the rough terrain. Dust swirled around her, clinging to her hair and clothes, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was fixed on one thing—the reunion with her twin sister. Y/N. The White Wolf.

Her heart twisted in her chest, torn between hope and fear. The whispers of what had become of her twin had reached her ears, each rumor more dreadful than the last. Rhaegar had taken her—stolen her away from their family. And now, after months of searching, she was close. So close.

Eddard rode beside her, his face as grim and determined as ever. Behind them, his men followed in silence, their swords ready for the battle they expected to face. But it wasn’t battle Lyanna feared; it was what she would find inside the Tower.

As they approached the stone structure, three figures came into view, standing at the entrance like specters from a nightmare. Rhaegar Targaryen was in the center, his violet eyes glinting in the sunlight, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, stood to his right, his legendary blade Dawn strapped to his back. Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was to his left, his expression unreadable beneath his white helm.

Lyanna felt her blood run cold at the sight of Rhaegar. The man who had shattered their world, who had brought war to their lands, and who had taken her sister. Yet as much as she hated him, there was something about the way he looked at her that made her uneasy. Amused, almost. As though this was all some game to him.

"You've come a long way for nothing, Lady Lyanna," Rhaegar said, his voice smooth, calm, as if they were discussing something trivial. He stepped forward, a king in every sense now, clad in dark Targaryen armor. "But I will humor you. You wish to see her?"

Lyanna stiffened. "Take me to her. Now."

A soft chuckle escaped Rhaegar, but he turned and gestured for her to follow him. "As you wish."

The Tower loomed before them, the air thick with the heat and the tension. Lyanna's heart pounded in her chest as she followed Rhaegar up the steps, every part of her screaming to be wary, to be ready for some trap. Eddard and his men remained outside with Arthur and Gerold, but her brother’s eyes never left her, filled with silent warning.

Inside, the air was cooler but stifling. The stone walls seemed to close in around her, and with every step, Lyanna’s dread grew heavier. Rhaegar led her through winding corridors, the silence between them unnerving.

When they finally reached the chamber, he stopped before a heavy wooden door, pulling a key from his belt. He turned to Lyanna, his expression inscrutable. "I must warn you, she is not as you remember."

Lyanna's heart clenched. "Open it."

With a faint smirk, Rhaegar unlocked the door and pushed it open. Lyanna stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn against the harsh Dornish sun, and the air was filled with the scent of lavender. In the corner of the room, a figure sat in a rocking chair, gently swaying back and forth.

It was Y/N.

Lyanna felt her knees nearly buckle. Her twin, the White Wolf of the North, the warrior who had fought beside her in the snow-covered forests of Winterfell, sat hunched, her white hair dull, lifeless. Her eyes, once so fierce and full of light, stared blankly ahead, distant and empty.

Y/N was with child. Her swollen belly stretched beneath a simple gown, and she rocked herself gently, her hand resting on her stomach. She looked like a ghost of the sister Lyanna had known.

"Y/N?" Lyanna's voice trembled as she took a step forward.

There was no flicker of recognition. Y/N continued to stare ahead as though Lyanna were a stranger, a passing shadow.

Lyanna rushed forward, falling to her knees beside her sister, tears streaming down her face. "Y/N, it’s me. It’s Lyanna. Please... Please, look at me!"

Slowly, Y/N’s gaze shifted toward her, confusion clouding her features. "Who are you?" Her voice was soft, distant, as if she were waking from a long, troubled sleep.

Lyanna's heart shattered. "It’s me, Y/N. Your sister."

Y/N’s brow furrowed, her eyes drifting past Lyanna to where Rhaegar stood, watching with a twisted smile of satisfaction. "Husband," Y/N said, her tone more childlike now. "Who is this woman?"

Rhaegar stepped forward, his voice a low purr. "She is someone who wishes to take you from me, my love. Someone who does not understand that you belong to me now. As you always have."

Lyanna felt as though she had been struck. Her sister recoiled from her touch, her eyes widening in alarm. "No... I don’t want to leave. I don’t... I belong here, with my husband." Y/N pushed Lyanna away, her movements frantic, as if she were frightened.

"Y/N, no! He’s poisoned you. He’s twisted everything!" Lyanna cried, reaching for her again, but Y/N scrambled away, shaking her head, panic overtaking her features.

Rhaegar's smirk deepened as he watched Lyanna’s anguish. "You see, Lady Lyanna, there is nothing left for you here. My queen has made her choice. Return to the North, where you belong."

Tears streamed down Lyanna’s face as she looked at her sister, the bond they had shared for so long now shattered, broken beyond repair. She rose to her feet, her hands trembling, her heart torn apart.

Before she turned to leave, she cast one last look at her twin—at the hollow shell of the warrior she had once known. "I swear to you, Rhaegar Targaryen," she said through her tears, her voice breaking, "for what you’ve done to her, for what you’ve taken, I will have vengeance."

With those words, she left, the weight of her promise heavy in the air. Outside, the wind howled, but the White Wolf remained, lost in the cage of the Tower, her light dimmed forever.

#game of thrones #got #got x y/n #got x you #got x reader #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf #rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar x you #rhaegar x reader #rhaegar x y/n #dark rhaegar

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babyaiker · 2 months

Text

It’s 3:30am but I have another rant idea. As a writer myself, when I go into fiction I tend to ask why a lot. Like, what importance does this scene have, why did this event happen and how did it affect the characters. Writing isn’t real life, and every event HAS purpose, and that to me is fun to analyze ^^

So anyway

Overthinking the purpose of the different character deaths in Red Dead Redemption 2

I know I’ve talked about spoilers a fair bit without warning, but I’m not holding any punches, so

SPOILER WARNING!!

Get ready for a long rant folks, and apologies for any spelling errors I missed,

First and foremost, rdr2 is a prequel. But more importantly, rdr2 is a prequel that depicts the explicit fall of the Van Der Linde Gang. Every death serves to cement that fact, as the game strategically will take out certain characters to both break down the gang’s stability, and the players emotions.

The first thing the game does to permanently shift the tone is to kill the comic relief characters. Both Sean and Kieran, while both complex in their own rights, serve specific, almost “gimmicky” roles in the gang (funny Irishman and whipping boy). These more comical purposes unfortunately don’t fit the game’s tone in the later chapters. And while I could go on about how interesting it would have been to see these two characters dramatically change over the course of the later chapters, their deaths are what the writers used to establish the beginning of the end.

The next duo the writing team had to take out of course had to be the smart, leveled headed characters, back to back no less. While Sean and Kieran’s deaths served to change the tone for the player, Hosea and Lenny’s deaths are what changed the tone for the gang. There’s a reason the fandom jokes that if Hosea had lived, he wouldn’t have let what happened happen. Both of these characters in their own right served as important emotional pillars for the gang, especially Dutch and Arthur. They were both rational and incredibly resourceful, two traits that made them a liability to the destined fate of the gang.

Hosea’s death also now introduces us to the section where a lot of characters die because they narratively HAVE TO. Like I said, rdr2 is a prequel, and you don’t want any loose ends popping up in rdr1 cause a character was introduced and not properly wrapped up. Lenny Kieran and Sean, while had their own purposes behind their deaths, didn’t have to die BECAUSE the story was a prequel. It’s easy to rationalize that if they had lived, their lives wouldn’t have affected the plot of rdr1. Hosea however, due to his personal connection to Dutch, HAD to die. He would have absolutely been brought up in rdr1 had he survived, as he was that important to Dutch and the gang.

That goes the same for Molly and Grimshaw. Both of these characters in my opinion would have been loose ends in the first game had they survived. Their deaths did serve other purposes though,

Molly for one served as both the gang and the audience’s sign that things were never going to be ok again. She’s the first death to happen within camp by the hands of another camp member, foreshadowing at its finest.

As for Grimshaw, standing as the last gang member in camp to stand by Arthur and John, had her fate sealed the moment she lifted her gun. By now the tone and the stakes were set, everything was falling apart, and nothing can save it. Grimshaw’s death doesn’t serve to set a tone or change anything for the characters, she’s just a victim of the gang’s fall, getting shot like a dog as reward for her years of loyalty.

And of course, we now get to Arthur,

For those who played the first game, it’s safe to imagine that when going into the next game, there’s a lingering feeling that Arthur isn’t going to make it out of this. The pinnacle of rdr2 tying its loose ends if you will.

And yet you bond with Arthur. You experience the world with him, meet new people with him, you bond with the gang and your family with him. You bathe him, you feed him, you make sure he’s rested, you make him do chores, you do little errands for others with him. You watch him grow scared and doubtful, you watch his eyes grow red, his skin go pale, his cough worsen. And because of the nature of a prequel, you know this can only end one way.

Sure, maybe the writers could write him out quietly, make it so that John would have no reason to ever mention his brother. But untouched grief works well too to keep a man quiet about his loved ones.

Despite everything, despite most players knowing Arthur doesn’t get to stick around, to live a long life, to get out of this ok, we still fall in love with him, and become completely undone at the end of the game.

And Micah’s death in the epilogue, of course, just feels good. It ties up a loose end for the first game, and it gives the player all the freedom in the world to pump his ass full of lead. It’s your reward for 40 hours of cowgirl simulator hell.

And also shout out to Strauss for not ratting despite getting kicked out and tortured, secret og right there,,

—————

Alright it’s now 5am as I finished writing this, but I have 3 more deaths I wanna quickly comment on. Davey, Jenny, and Mac, right?

Due to how sparely these three are mention outside of how they mildly affected other characters, I view their deaths as essentially worldbuilding. Characters WILL die in unfortunate and unfair ways, especially if it involves the Pinkertons. Characters don’t always get to go out with a bang, you are not immune to succumbing to the elements in this game, nor are you immune to the consequences of your actions.

—————

But of course, you can write a story however you want. I can see myself being easily convinced that any of these deaths weren’t required, as it’s all really just up to how well you can write it. I wholeheartedly think that the story could’ve been benefited by the presence of Sean and or Kieran for one. Whether it be watching Sean breakdown over the stress of the gang falling apart, or watching Kieran finally become a trusted member of the gang and break out of his shell more. And hell, I think there’s something interesting in the idea that Hosea survives, but is unable to help quell Dutch’s paranoia anymore.

There’s room to argue that each death wasn’t required, but in the end, they did die, and there were good reasons behind it. Yes, even as a fan who regularly forgets Kieran died due to the amount of “he lived” AU’s bouncing around in their head, his death was cool as fuck, and both thematically and narratively made sense. It’s beautifully tragic and deeply depressing, and the religious themes only make it that more interesting. Saw him pop up in a Twitter thread of “most graphic video game deaths” and felt genuine pride-

#get ready for my longest rant yet folks #oh god I can see the sun through my certain my sleep schedule is fucked yall #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 rant #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #john marston #hosea matthews #lenny summers #kieran duffy #sean macguire #micah bell #molly o'shea #susan grimshaw #leopold strauss

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sunnysssol · 3 months

Note

Literally frothing at the mouth over your Mob AU!!!! 😭💕

I have a mighty need to know all your lore for it.

Ask and ye shall receive 😈

California, 1983; Alfred and Matthew Jones-Williams lose their parents at 17 and 6 respectively. As the older brother, Alfred took it upon himself to raise and provide for Matthew. He's young and strong, but since he didn't get to finish his education, he was stuck doing odd jobs now and again. Alfred eventually finds his way in Vegas, where he starts working as the chauffeur for the most formidable loan shark and crime lord in the country— Arthur Kirkland. The older man was heirless, and eventually found himself taking a liking to Alfred and soon began to mentor him in the ins and outs of the job. But Arthur had always been unstable-- fits of uncontrollable, unpredictable rage followed by stormy seas of apathy and general inaction. Alfred eventually becomes boss of the Kirklands' crime family after he kills Arthur in a blinding fit of rage so characteristic to this Alfred's youth because he fucked up a huge business deal, and Arthur threatened to use Matthew as collateral.

Then ofc, the main plot. It does start with Matthew's death, and the reason for that is because I find it a little impossible for this Alfred to have any sort of strong reaction to anything else. Bad business deal? So what, I'll just earn back the money again! I'm Alfred-motherfucking-Jones, I can do absolutely anything and the sky's the fucking limit. Anyone else dying? Damn, that sucks but what can ya do. But when Matt dies, especially the way he did, Alfred starts to doubt. Himself, everything– his guilt kicks in full force. If only I'd forced Mattie to stay out of the business in the first place, then he wouldn't have died there. If only I'd been a better brother, a better man, then maybe he'd still be alive.

After Matt dies, the rest of the story goes on. Tolys, Romano and Alfred all try to figure out who ordered the ambush on Matthew. But, Romano gets too close to figuring it out and is attacked himself. He survives, but now he has some suspicions about Tolys, who had apparently also been there during when Matthew died but wasn't hurt too badly. He and Alfred eventually figure out that Tolys has been double-crossing them and was working with Ivan all along, being an agent of Natallia. Of course, they go and pay Feliks a visit, seeing as he's Tolys' closest confidante. Feliks swears up and down that he's got nothing to do with it, even offering information that the hit was actually for Alfred and not Matthew. And when Feliks ends up dead the next day, it confirms the rest of Romano and Alfred's suspicions. After that, Alfred and Tolys have their confrontation, wherein Tolys admits to it all, and after getting into a fist fight with Alfred goes out taking out a very important business deal for Ivan's family as a final sort of farewell to Alfred. He may not have been entirely loyal, but he'd grown to respect Alfred throughout the years.

Ivan and Alfred get their confrontation eventually, where Alfred manages to kill Ivan whilst on the brink of death himself. In short, Alfred wins, but he loses so many people he's left empty and wondering if it had all been worth it after all.

[ mob au ]

#qs #mob au #hetalia #aph america #aph canada #aph romano #aph poland #aph lithuania #aph russia #sol's art

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wobblesthecowgirl · 4 months

Text

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Three: Arthur's Doubts

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 975

A/N: Sorry for a short chapter! Next chapter is going to be a long one...Lenny, Arthur, and Reader get drunk in Valantine! Comment how you want that to go! I've also changed the layout to see which is preferred.

Chapter One

Chapter Four

Arthur was starting to have doubts about letting both O’Driscoll’s join the gang. On the ride back to camp, he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of them gunning down those there. Especially her. Where did she learn to shoot like that? She’s too quick.

Luckily, when he arrived, the place was calm and peaceful…or as peaceful as it could be. He scanned for the new members: Kieran was getting some soup from a not so happy Pearson, and then he finally saw her. It was clear the first thing she did as a free woman was have a wash and brush her hair.

Arthur couldn’t deny that she was definitely pretty, but her sour attitude, O’Driscoll past, and constant scowl made him hate her so much that he could look past how beautiful she was. However, when he watched from afar, he saw how she interacted with Mary-Beth: Her eyes were soft, her mouth curled up slightly at the corners, and she was even laughing lightly at times.

For some reason, this only annoyed him further. He strode over towards the two women who were sat on a blanket, looking up at him.

“You behavin’ yourself?” He asked, and there it was. Her famous scowl.

“You’re not going to give me a minute’s peace, are you?”

Now that he was closer, he could see had to look through her long lashes, and she had a small scar along her neck like Javier. Mary-Beth coughed.

“Is there something you need, Arthur?”

He shook his head, “Oh no, I was just making sure our new friend wasn’t giving you any trouble. God knows she gives it out a lot.” The woman shook her head to disagree, putting her book down.

“Not at all! She’s actually pleasant company.”

It was Y/n’s turn to talk, “I’m right here. Which, for your information, I’m a delight when I actually like the person. But, for a strange reason, I don’t like big dumb grunts who shoot me!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Give it a rest woman. You’re gonna have to get over that one day.”

The wind picked up slightly, making Y/n’s hair flow a little, and he was looking a bit too intently by accident. Mary-Beth stood up suddenly, causing the other two to turn to her. She excused herself, explaining she had chores to attend to, and scampered off. Arthur and Y/n stayed in awkward silence for a few seconds before she finally spoke up.

“Are you going to stand there or say something?”

He narrowed his eyes, staying stood because sitting next to her seemed too friendly, but the awkward pose of her sat looking up at him while he stood above her was just as bad.

“I’m just here to warn you that if you try anything- “

“Oh, give it a rest old man,” She spat as his eyes widened.

“Old man? You gotta be kidding, old man?”

Y/n laughed, tilting her head back slightly at his response. She stood up, dusting off her jeans. Despite being stood up now, she still had to look up. Tiny thing, she is. He asked, “And how old are you exactly?”

“Why? You interested?” She teased… flirted? He couldn’t tell, but he didn’t like either option.

He scowled at her, “Don’t be so cocky, girl. I’m askin’ ‘cos you’re acting like I’m as old as Hosea.”

“I’m in my early twenties, that’s all you’re getting.” She informed him, and for some reason, his stomach dropped. Arthur should’ve guessed she was young, she didn’t look older than thirty, but it still shocked him. Then she asked the same question. He chuckled lightly, looking away from her.

“I’m in my mid-thirties, old enough to be your Daddy.”

“Well, you don’t look a day over fifty.” She smiled sickly, enjoying tormenting the older man.

“Real mature of you.” He scoffed, before turning around without a goodbye. He couldn’t stand talking to her much longer; every single sentence she threw his way only jabbed him more and more, which would cause him to snap eventually. He found himself at Dutch’s tent, who was sat smoking a cigar and lost in thought. When he saw Arthur, his face lit up.

“Arthur! And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He took another puff.

“I just came to talk to you about that O’Driscoll girl.”

Dutch sat up straight, concern on his face, “Is she causing trouble?”

“Not exactly,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s about her aim. When we were at Six Point, I was about to get shot, but she saved me. Put a bullet right between the man’s eyebrows. In seconds. That ain’t normal.”

The music was blaring from inside the tent like it usually did at this time, and Arthur could hear the rest of the members shouting and laughing. It almost drowned Dutch out.

“Where are you going with this, son?” The leader asked. Arthur paused, rubbing his chin.

“My point is, I don’t think she’ll cause trouble, but keep an eye on the guns around here.”

Dutch leaned back into his chair, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Or, we could use her to our advantage.” He was already planning something, a new chess piece for his board. Arthur rose an eyebrow and asked, “What you plannin’?”

He nodded his head, thoughts and ideas running through his head, “We are going to get Sean back, having her behind the scenes could be very helpful. Especially in a place like Blackwater.”

“Dutch…” Arthur groaned, “I can’t trust her. She may’ve saved my life, but she probably did it to save her own hide.”

“Well then, sounds like you two need to do a little bonding.” Dutch smirked, taking the final huff of his cigar, as he continued to scheme; much to Arthur’s dismay.

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan

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leclerc-s · 11 months

Text

track 002. la del insta

─── ❝ todo comienza y se termina ❞ ───

masterlist // previous // next

NOVEMBER 2022

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, isabellaperez and others

redbullracing i have been told that my previous caption was not appropriate, so here's a boring pr one scripted by salty spice himself, daniel ricciardo returns to red bull as our reserve driver. it's wonderful to have you back daniel.

view all comments

📍isabellaperez alternate caption was the honey badger is back mother fuckers!! read it and weep!!

user43 i love red bull's admin and their chaos. wonder where christian horner found them.

↳ redbullracing he found me on the streets of monaco and picked me up by the scruff of my neck and told me he had a job for me. who was i to deny salty spice?

↳ danielricciardo you would love her less if you had to see her everday.

↳ maxverstappen1 at least you got a break for a while, i've been suffering for four years

↳ estebanocon you two have it easy, i've been suffering since 2016.

↳ schecoperez i've been told to say that i've been suffering for 19 years.

↳ isabellaperez fuck you guys (except tio checo. i love you)

↳ alexalbon don't worry isa, you're my favorite red bull admin

↳ isabellaperez thank you lily's boyfriend! you're my favorite williams driver!

user07 red bull admin is checo's niece?? plot twist. honestly though, i love her.

christianhorner this is not the caption we talked about isabella.

↳ redbullracing i would say sorry but we both know it's going to happen again. it's been happening for over 4 years.

user92 she's been apart of the team longer than checo? it's kind of iconic. but why red bull and not aston martin when checo was racing with them at the time?

↳ isabellaperez aston martin didn't have a position open and red bull did. it also allowed me to travel with my uncle which i've been doing since 2011, i was only going to stop because the fia demanded it due to covid.

user59 so do you live in monaco or mexico with checo?

↳ isabellaperez used to live in LA but the influencer life was not for me (check out my youtube channel) then i was convinced by my sister and arthur to move to monaco. i travel to mexico all the time, i have to see my mami of course!

BAHRAIN 2023

the youngest mclaren driver stood off to the side, nervous for his first ever formula one grand prix. his teammate seemed less nervous, but still nervous to a certain degree. oscar truly didn't want to fuck this up, not after everything that happened in the last 6 months for him. he noticed a brunette girl staring at him from across the pitlane, she gave him a small wave before turning to go back inside the redbull garage.

the younger brunette turned to look at the slightly older one, "who was that?"

the older one turned to look at him, “you don’t stand a chance. she's checo's niece, very overprotective that man is. not excluding you know, max and daniel. take it from me, i've tried.”

“i asked who she was not if you tried to get her number.”

“oh, i have her number, but i have a girlfriend, you pastry. matter of fact," lando said, "you have her number too."

“it’s piastri! you know this!” oscar shouted as lando skipped, literally skipped, away from him. oscar rolled his eyes at the older drivers actions before turning to go back inside the mclaren garage.

the brunette girl stood outside the redbull garage again, with daniel ricciardo at her side. she turned to look at the empty spot oscar had once been in, then back at daniel, “can't believe i still think he's cute. he's the enemy.”

daniel laughed, "he's not the enemy isa. you're allowed to have a crush on someone."

isabella rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair, “i hope him the best at shit-claren.”

“isa!”

the girl laughed, “it’s true!”

redbullracing posted a new story

alexa, play the boys are back from hsm2!!! welcome home honey badger!! we've missed you!! (salty spice told me no more cursing on official red bull posts)

liked by austinriley, maejones, redbullracing and others

isabellaperez we're back people!! bahrain 2023, praying for a better result than last year. please f1 gods, don’t give us a double dnf. (but at least ferrari had a 1-2!)

tagged: redbullracing

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danieljricciardo i know you aren’t liking your posts from the official redbull racing account

↳ isabellaperez what good is it running the red bull account if i can’t like my own posts?

user82 paddock princess is back people!!

↳ isabellaperez am i royalty like charles? people’s prince and poddack princess?

↳ charles_leclerc you wish you were as cool as me

↳ isabellaperez at least i don’t wear questionable pants.

↳ georgerussell63 she got you there buddy

user75 isabella running the red bull racing account but still being a tifosi will always be hilarious to me

↳ isabellaperez corporate espionage at it's finest (i'm kidding christian, please don't fire me)

logansargeant is it considered treason if i follow you?

↳ isabellaperez idk let’s ask alex_albon, is it treason?

↳ alex_albon he’s in the groupchat? how is this treason?

↳ logansargeant good to know

logansargeant and oscarpiastri started following you

redbullracing posted a new story!

1-2 in bahrain! what a way to begin the season! congrats maxverstappen1 and schecoperez (i’ve been told by helmut that i need to be more ‘professional’ whatever that means)

duckling to get over my crush on oscar i’ve decided to ask arthur for ollie’s number.

super max oh for fucks sake, don’t do that

duckling maybe i should text austin then.

honey badger DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!

honey badger i will fucking confiscate your phone isabella estrella perez

duckling i don’t have a middle name. my sister does, it’s maria. honey badger i could not give less of a fuck. don’t you dare do such a thing.

super max I WILL CALL SEBASTIAN ISABELLA PEREZ!!

duckling don't threaten me with sebastian, max! that will do nothing!

super max added one person

honey badger had changed the group name to 'redbull's four musketeers'

paddock dad do i want to know?

super max ISABELLA WANTS TO TALK TO AUSTIN! TELL HER IT'S A BAD IDEA! duckling fuck you, you stupid maxi-pad

paddock dad isa, why would you do that?

honey badger SHE HAS A CRUSH ON OSCAR AND IS AFRAID OF LOVE! duckling i am not afraid of love. i’m afraid of falling in love, two very different things daniel super max yet another thing austin ruined for you. love along with getting a pet. paddock dad how the hell did he ruin getting a pet for her? honey badger honestly don’t remember but i think it was something along the lines of how his cousin had one and it got killed by a car. duckling i still want a dog he didn’t completely ruin that. paddock dad never let a man ruin anything for you or so my wife says

super max you might want to mute this chat seb, it was created to help isabella over any and all problems, small or big.

duckling okay fuck you verstappen

super max no thanks. i have a girlfriend. honey badger we're aware. we've heard nonsense super max do you really want to go there ricciardo? your wife wrote a song about only buying a dress so you could take it off honey badger DO YOU LIKE MAKING HER EYES ROLL VERSTAPPEN? DO YOU?

isabella had been so focused on her phone and texting back the others that she didn’t notice the person coming at her. she crashed into the person and her phone fell to the floor, landing with a loud crack. at least the crack sounded loud to her, but not louder than the ‘mierda’ she let out. she bent down to pick up her phone and so did the person she had bumped into, both reached for her phone, bumping heads.

“fuck,” isabella softly whispered, “you have a hard head,” she told the other person as she rubbed her head.

the person laughed, “guess that’s a good thing for an f1 driver.”

isabella’s eyes slightly widened when she realized who she had bumped into. she would recognize an australian accent anywhere, she had grown up near daniel ricciardo. oscar piastri was too busy inspecting her phone for any cracks to notice the expression she had made. he handed her the phone as both stood to their full heights, he was noticeably taller than her.

"no cracks," oscar told her as he handed back her phone. she smiled politely at him, "thanks."

"and your friends are blowing up your phone. i think you had like 10 messages come in while i was checking to see if it had any cracks. not that i read them-"

isabella waved him off, "it's just max and danny, they were arguing about who had the horniest songs written about them."

oscar laughed, "i'm oscar piastri."

"i know, i'm isabella perez" she replied, "i saw your alpine tweet, plus arthur talks about you a lot."

"i know," oscar replied, "arthur leclerc? you two know each other?" he questioned as they began walking together. isabella didn't know where he had originally been heading but now the two were walking back to their hotels.

"he's dating my sister, dulce? you might know her."

"oh, you're isa. i always wondered why they called you isa and not bella."

"because i will stab anyone who calls me bella," isabella emptily threatened. too enthralled on her phone she failed to notice the small smile on oscar's face.

"okay, bella."

isabella quickly looked up, glaring at him, "i'm glad you dnf'd."

"ouch," oscar dramatically muttered, "you wound me bella."

the two were interrupted by a voice shouting for oscar. they turned around and were met with the sight of alex albon and logan sargeant, both williams drivers also walking back to their hotel.

"alabono!" isabella shouted, rushing to hug the bleached-blonde. the taller driver opened his arms and accepted the hug, "hi, isa. did you have a good day?"

"no, charles dnf'd, so the ferrari in me is crying. however, the redbull in me is screaming for joy."

before alex could reply a ding interrupted him and caused isabella to look down at her phone. her eyes widened, and she handed her phone over to alex, "can you give this to max or danny later? i'm catching a flight on air-max later tomorrow."

alex nodded, "see you in glendale. or sooner."

"bye alex, bye logan, bye piastri!" isabella shouted as she ran off. logan looked confused between isabella's phone and alex, "why'd she give you her phone?"

the phone dinged again and alex sighed as he switched the phone to silent, "it's quite the story, one that either isa or dulce should tell you, not me."

"okay," logan said, he turned to oscar, "why'd she call you piastri?"

"oh, i called her bella," oscar replied, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. alex's eyes widned and logan knew their was a story there but he didn't pry. he wasn't close to any of the other drivers besides oscar, so he wasn't going to ask. he could be nosy sometimes but even he knew his limits. alex didn't want to talk about isabella's phone so maybe the phone had something to do with calling her bella.

"surprised you're still standing," alex said, "last time someone called her bella she kicked him in the nuts, and they had just met. he stopped calling her bella after that."

the two rookies exchanged looks as alex pocketed isabella's phone and pulled out his own phone and began to type furiously on it. logan's phone dinged moment's later but he ignored it, not wanting to make oscar suspicious. however, when his phone kept dinging oscar turned to him curiously and logan waved him off, silencing his phone.

"just friends from home, they were planing a party," logan quickly lied. oscar shrugged him off and logan was quick to divert the conversation to a random topic.

alex albon OSCAR CALLED HER BELLA AND HE'S STILL STANDING. NO BALLS WERE KICKED!!!!

dulce perez HE WHAT? BUT SHE HASN'T LET ANYONE CALL HER THAT FOR YEARS! EVEN AUSTIN WASN'T ALLOWED TO CALL HER BELLA

daniel riccardo THIS IS BIG NEWS PEOPLE!

lewis hamilton will you people shut up? some of us have an early flight to catch tomorrow.

fernando alonso mute them, i usually do that until the next morning. lewis hamilton i should start doing that

daniel ricciardo CARLOS DROP EVERYTHING NOW!!!

bailey winters MEET ME IN THE POURING RAIN! daniel ricciardo NOT THE TIME BAILEY! bailey winters IT IS ALWAYS THE TIME FOR DAPHNE JONES SONGS!

carlos sainz what happened? what did i miss?

arthur leclerc that's not fair, i've known her for years and i still get punched on the arm when i call her bella

dulce perez that’s because it’s usually “this is the skin of a killer bella” lando norris to be fair it’s a great line, and robert pattinson is great. team edward all the way daphne jones for legal reasons, team jacob natalia ruiz shall i tell suki lando’s in love with her boyfriend? lando norris CAN I MEET HIM? TELL ME I CAN!!

carlos sainz QUE ESTÁ PASANDO?! SOMEONE EXPLAIN!!

logan sargeant what’s the big deal with him calling her bella? it’s her name, no?

carlos sainz QUE? HE CALLED HER WHAT? dulce perez the only people allowed to call her bella was our dad, tio checo too, but ever since dad passed she hasn’t let anyone call her that. she says it was his name and only his. arthur leclerc her ex tried calling her bella and she kicked him in the nuts when they first met. he still did it every time he was angry at her. charles leclerc which was everyday and she always cried because only her dad was allowed to call her that. logan sargeant so the ex was an asshole? max verstappen biggest understatement of the year.

logan sargeant and that’s why she gave her phone to alex earlier.

mick schumacher HE TEXTED? AGAIN? I WOULD STRANGLE HIM IF I WOULDN'T LAND IN JAIL

daniel ricciardo i’m going to punch that guy. take a hint dude.

logan sargeant why don’t you guys just block him?

dulce perez oh why didn’t we try that? WE DID THAT YOU AMERICAN!

natalia ruiz seb said we needed to teach her to not reach out to him on her own. we're starting with confiscating her phone anytime he texts her and we give it to her the next day. it was hard to get where we are now, trust me. she used to fight us on it but now she just hands her phone over.

mae jones we're not quite sure what the next step is but we're making progress. maybe we can get her to block him on her own.

george russell so what exactly is the next step in operation osbella? obella? iscar? what's the official name?

fernando alonso how about 'all of you need to stop being invested in isabella's love life and go the hell to sleep?"

lando norris yes papa nando. fernando alonso that's going to stick isn't it? max verstappen absolutely lando norris 100 percent daniel ricciardo already making t-shirts lance stroll papa nando, papa seb, and uncle lewis mae jones good luck explaining that one to isa and oscar in the other groupchat.

¡leclerc-s speaks! it's austin gp weekend! (i live in california) anyways hope you enjoyed this one before quali today or after. expect more posts this weeked, maybe? i'm not sure yet.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #oscar piastri #formula 1 #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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gdn019283 · 1 month

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“The Death Song of Uther Pendragon,” 05x03, has to be one of my favourite Merlin episodes (it opens the gate to so many theories)

I rewatched it today, and a lot of things and questions came to my mind:

1) What would have happened if Arthur had summoned Ygraine, instead of Uther?

Following the rules, Arthur should have been able to summon every spirit he wanted. If Ygraine had been able to respond to Arthur, I believe things would have been very different. She would have been proud of Arthur, who would have changed things for the better, and therefore the plot line of the entire show. Ygraine has only ever been the one to make Arthur see what was right in front of him, even more than Merlin, like when Arthur had tried to kill Uther in the second season, and accused him of his hypocrisy, once he knew of how his mother had died, and since the second person Arthur trusted the most, Merlin, told him that what Morgause had shown him was a lie, Arthur believed him, reinforcing the idea that Uther was a good man.

2) If it would have been possible to summon anyone, then why did Arthur choose Uther, of all people?

Even if the answer seems obvious, I don’t think it actually is. Arthur had always known one person that was meant to be family and who technically didn’t betray him. He still felt guilty for choosing magic to save Uther, and it was actually what brought his father away from him, the only parental and father figure (as horrible as he was) who Arthur had ever had. His choice was also influenced by the date, since it was the day after the celebration of his coronation, and the same day Uther died. The moment Arthur meets Uther in the Spirit World, he tells him, even as he fights with him, that he has so much more to say to him. I think Arthur wanted nothing more than validation, something he had never had, and hoped he could find in the same man who had told him, seconds before he died, while being held in his son’s arms, that he knew Arthur would make him proud. The last moment Arthur had with Uther was the only one in his entire life where Uther had actually rewarded him and his duty with kindness and sincerity. Which means, at least in my opinion, that Arthur had hoped that that was the man he was about to meet in the Spirit World. That rare man who had sacrificed himself to save his only son and who had called him Arthie and to whom he had said he was proud of. But it wasn’t that man, and Arthur left the Spirit World feeling disappointed.

3) But what if it wasn’t possible to actually summon Ygraine, or certain, specific people?

When they go back to Camelot, Arthur and Merlin ask Gaius about the Horn of Cathbhadh and they found out that summoning spirits has always been a ceremony, a tradition, even one that Gaius had multiple times attended, held by High Priestesses, meaning that many different people could have been able to participate, which explains while even a commoner or someone without magic or practice could use the Horn, like Arthur did. Later on, after Arthur meets Uther and Merlin confesses what they had gone to do to Gaius, telling him of his fear that Uther may have left the Spirit World, Gaius tells Merlin that those same High Priestesses trained for years before using the Horn, which makes me believe there were so many rules to follow and accept, which brings us to the question. What if one of these rules was to know in your heart who you’d believe had passed away and went into another realm, and who got stuck into the Spirit World?

4) Therefore, what if the Spirit World is actually a place where spirits, who have either undone/unfinished things in life, or are bitter, cruel, and with many grudges and anger inside, or had died in an unjust manner, get stuck there forever?

We have no explanation of it or of how it works, and no one else tried to blow the Horn, but that would explain why Arthur didn’t think of his mother first, Ygraine, instead of Uther. He thought it more simple and less dangerous, since he had no knowledge of magic and didn’t want to ask anyone, not even Gaius, about it (not knowing Merlin had magic, and still, even he had no knowledge of these practices) to summon someone, who deep inside his heart, he knew was still stuck, somehow, in the between of the Worlds, of the Dead and of the Living. This means that Arthur somehow knew that Uther had something he thought was unfinished, or even going more far, we might think Arthur sort of hoped it, and not only to see Uther again because he was his father, but to be right about his character and himself, as a sort of bitter sweet victory, as if Arthur wanted to say to Uther: “If you’re still here, if I’m able to see you, talk to you, you might have done something terribly wrong, which makes me right, because you have never actually been a good and just man, like you painted yourself to be.” It opens a great theory about where Arthur actually went to after his death, since he was burned and mourned by Merlin and sent into the Lake of Avalon.

Another thing I believe further proves my theory, is that all the people in the show that we see dying, are buried in a boat and burned in a lake. Now, I have no idea if it would have been unusual or even disrespectful to burn Uther and send him on a lake, but even Elyan, and Lancelot, two honourable knights with high status, who before were simple commoners, were burned and sent on a boat in the lake when they died.

All, except Uther.

I want to believe that it was a sign to show Uther the disrespect he deserved.

Others may think that it’s the opposite, that Uther was the king and had to be held on an higher position, and therefore buried in the same castle he had conquered, but it wouldn’t make sense, since Merlin buried and said goodbye to Arthur in the same way as the others.

It makes me think that all who had died in the show are free of the Spirit World, unlike Uther.

It also opens so much theory about where did Morgana, or Mordred go.

6) Did people’s beliefs matter?

If the majority of people had supported Morgana and Mordred in their conquest to kill King Arthur, maybe their support would have been enough to make Morgana and Mordred free, to be free in the after life. We also have to remember Mordred was buried, much like Balinor, under rocks, because it was illegal to do otherwise for sorcerers, to be buried in another way.

7) All these people, buried in another way, in an unjust way, like for sorceres, who didn’t even get a burial, but were killed unjustly, where did they go?

I like to imagine they are stuck in the Spirit World too, and take revenge on Uther in any way the can, knowing none of them will ever die again. Uther’s punishment is to live in an endless loop of what he had put magical beings, humans and non, under, while he, a tyrant, reigned.

5) If this is the case, this must mean, in order for the summoning and the ceremony to work in the Living World, there had to be rules in the Spirit World. Did Uther know these rules?

As soon as Arthur entered the Spirit World, taking in consideration the theory that is just a layer of another world, slightly pulled away from the Living one, where some can see the progress of humanity but not so clearly, as if looking through a damp glass, Uther was able to not only spit everything he hated about his son to him, but he also warned Arthur that he had seen the kingdom he had built and that he disagreed on, which is another proof to my theory that those who are like Uther, or simply left to death in an unfair way, without an inch of respect, are somewhat stuck in the Spirit World and damned to see what happens outside of it, but without the ability to stop or intervene in anything they witness (it would explain why Uther hadn’t discovered Merlin’s magic before, since his goal has always been the one to watch Arthur and how the kingdom progressed, in order to protect his legacy, as he puts it in the episode). Not only Uther told Arthur he had watched him, but he warned him that he had to go, otherwise he would have been stuck into the Spirit World forever. This means that Uther knew that there were bounds and rules and that summoning someone with the Horn of Cathbhadh could be dangerous, if a person didn’t know the exact rules.

8) Has Uther seen someone else being summoned?

In this episode, Gaius says the Horn has been saved before the Purge and never been used since. But someone else could have used it, even a simple person, who longed to see their dead lover and blew the Horn. Because of the Purge, many traditions had been forgotten and the use of the Horn could have been forgotten too, used only by simple people who found it or hid it, and who didn’t know what they were doing, but later found out about what it could do, once one of them, out of curiosity, blew it, and summoned a spirit. If the High priestess were people who were born as magic did, and had held these traditions for centuries, it would also explain why ghosts existed. Many people had been left out wandering without a chance to go back into their Spirit World. Uther may have seen, in a world where he wandered endlessly too, someone else being summoned before him, or met someone else who knew all of these things before him.

Which only means one thing:

The last thing Uther Pendragon did before Arthur would disappear from the Spirit World, was to manipulate him until the last moment, and hurt him in doing so:

With the knowledge Uther had, he may have understood that the person who summoned a spirit could have freed it by looking back at it. Uther was a tyrant, a bitter and cruel and murderous man, who without doubts, tried to kill Arthur in the same episode, in the name of his legacy and of “his” kingdom. Uther cared more about something that he couldn’t even rule anymore than his own and only son, manipulating Arthur to no end, so that he would do what Uther wanted him to. His last words to Arthur, that irremediably made the latter turn around, were: “I will always love you, Arthur.” It sounds as if Uther grasped at the little thing he had, knowing that those words would have made Arthur turn. Uther wanted to get out of there, and did not mean a single word he said to Arthur. To Uther, in that precise moment, Arthur was a mean to escape.

9) But what if the Spirits had some saying in being summoned, and refused to appear?

Arthur simply sounded the Horn and Uther appeared, which opens the door to so many possibilities. Uther had agreed to meeting him, but some other Spirit could have also refused to meet the people who had summoned it, and the Horn basically wouldn’t have worked.

10) What if the spirits simply got more bitter with ages of being stuck into the Spirit World and without nothing to do then relive their deaths, or past mistakes, and getting tired of it?

The spirits got stuck in their world for centuries and forgot why they were there or what they did, while they had lived, and just got so much anger inside themselves, they didn’t know anything else except that feeling, like those who believe the theory that every ghost is bad, and does bad things, because it wants to protect their surroundings, or does it because it doesn’t know anything else. Uther may have being fuled with even more hatred than ever and his true feelings actually came out once he got out of the Spirit World, showing himself to Arthur for who he truly was (Uther has always showed Arthur his tyrant personality, but it feels as if we had been the only ones to see it, until Arthur finally did too)

What if Merlin, at the end of the episode, smuggled the Horn into his satchel, promising Arthur he would have put it into a safe space, and went to the Stones of Nemethon instead.

Suspicious, Arthur followed him, and frightened of another Spirit wandering into the Living World again, he jumped into the light with Merlin, who had summoned Balinor,

and Arthur watched everything unfold.

And Merlin, after 1500 years of waiting, found the Horn again, under rubble and rubble of the Camelot castle, as he had desperately searched for it, and decided, in the last attempt to meet Arthur again, to blow the Horn.

But as Merlin had suspected, the Horn didn’t work, and no one, not even a light, appeared in his way. Merlin blamed it on so many factors, on the fact that Arthur had been dead for too long, or because he was in Avalon, and with an heavy heart, and a weary sigh, Merlin turned around and walked away from the dried up Lake.

But the sound of the Horn had been loud enough to disturb the Once and Future King.

And Arthur woke up from his old sleep.

#did i open the pandora vase of fanfictions?#if i did and someone writes all the possibilities just tag me pretty please #or i’ll end up doing it myself #this show is INSANE #i’m very normal about it #merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #uther pendragon #fuck uther

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goodmorgan · 1 year

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Perfect Strangers

Chapter 6: A Ride to Remember

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Chapter Summary: Your relationship with Arthur deepens over the course of several weeks, when vows are made and lessons are taught.

Word Count: 13K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), Unprotected PinV Sex, Cowgirl, Semi-public Sex, First Times, Possessive Arthur Morgan

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi

AO3 Link

A/N: I am soooooo sorry for taking this long to finish this chapter. But I've been through somethings in the past few months I hope you understand. To make it up for you, chapter is extra long with tons of smut! It's divided in several parts to ease reading.

You've never been on top before. None of your past lovers ever thought of letting you take charge, much less suggest you actually do it. So when Arthur asked if you could, it took you very much by surprise.

"Think you can handle it, missy? Hmm?" His eyes glimmer with a devilish spark as he invites you into his lap, his back leaned against the headboard of your bed. He squeezes the inside of your thigh in encouragement as you kneel by his flank.

"I think so." You hesitate, unsure if you'll be able to please him in a position you have no experience in. But then you look at his lustful eager eyes and you know you'll never be able to say no. And you have to admit, the idea of riding him has you pretty aroused yourself.

"Come on. I'll help ya."

His back temporarily leaves his rest as his hands reach the side of your waist, guiding you up as you climb over his legs, sitting atop his strong bulky thighs. Your core settles right in front of his fully hard cock, now slicked with his precum as it lies on his stomach, impatient for more after you've spent the last few minutes stroking it. You feel yourself twitching uncomfortably with titillation at the thought of taking it all in.

He removes one hand from you to catch the base of his member, tilting it up, ready for you to mount. "No need to rush, darling. Take your time." He means to put you at ease despite his obvious excitement as the mischief in his smile deepens, the tip of his tongue sneaking out, making you even more eager to start.

You settle your hands on top of his chest, pressing down for support as you raise your rear, angling your entrance above the tip of his cock as you kneel again. Arthur's hand tightens as you hover above him and soon enough you feel him prodding between your folds. You look at him to ask if you can go ahead.

"Easy does it, darling." His thumb caresses the side of your belly to relax you, but you feel his cock shift below you in ardent anticipation.

You move slightly downwards, enough to feel his member peek inside, stretching your opening to make your breath hitch. Arthur removes the hand from his cock, aiding you in your lowering motion with both hands on your hips, supporting your weight so you don't plunge too fast. Inch by inch you lower yourself as you take all of him inside you, your walls stretching in welcomed gratification. Both of you emit soft grunts of pleasure as Arthur's chest vibrates under your fidgety hands. You try to keep your eyes on each other as they flutter from the delightful feeling of carnal intimacy.

Your buttocks finally rest against his thighs when he finally fills you to the hilt. "Oh, fuck, missy." He grabs your ass greedily, as if to reward you for sheathing him inside you, his eyes darting to where your bodies meet. You peer down as you see your soft curls now tangled conspicuously with his. "Don't think I'll ever get used to you taking me like this."

You try to adjust to his large size as you coat him with the wetness he pried from you while fingering you earlier. You mirror his cheeky but sweet smile. "Maybe we just gotta practice a little more."

He chuckles as your hands move aimlessly all over his chest, warming him up before you move. His fingers lightly squeeze your behind to do the same. "I reckon we should. I doubt I'll ever get used to it though."

"Won't hurt to try." Your fingertips brush the area of his nipples. "I'm willing if you are."

"Yeah?" He raises a hand to your face to caress the side of your cheek with his thumb, biting down on his own lip. "Wanna show me how willing you are?"

He's ready to start when you are.

You rush your hands to the sides of his navel, moving your thumbs to pet the area below, twirling some of the black hairs you saw before. The teasing is enough to make the member inside you move and suddenly all you want to do is to countermove. "Seems I'm not the only one willing, am I?"

The first roll of your hips is barely visible but both of you feel it as his cock shifts gently against your walls, a satisfying taste of what's to come. He gets hungry for more as he lowers his hand to join the other, now blending his fingers with the curve of your hips. You take the chance to move them again, this time more noticeably as your folds almost touch the knuckles of your fingers, still skimming the sensitive skin of his groin.

It's the loud exhale he gives you that makes you start to lose your shyness, wanting to hear the sweet noises he makes for you over and over again, even if it's at the expense of your poise. You move your waist more forcefully, nudging yourself closer to his stomach, making you both puff out in delight. Each drag of your hips comes slow and gentle, but you can feel the gradual build of the fire in your core as you try to resist the urge to go too fast too soon.

"That's it, missy. You got it." His fingers press against your soft flesh as he assists your back-and-forth movements, the lechery of his eyes intensifying. "Keep going like that for me, angel."

His encouraging words only enflame your state of yearning, so you pick up the pace a little, moving your hands up to flatten them on his chest. As you move to the new angle, you fortuitously brush your clit against his pubic bone, the feeling so sublime you let out a whine of surprise and elation. You have no choice but to repeat it again, the result only more divine as you let your mouth hang.

"You like that, huh?" He grabs you more vigorously as you start to grind him wantonly.

You look into his eyes again, unsure if this is what he had planned when he asked you to be on top, wondering if he's enjoying it. "This alright?"

"Oh, it's perfect, missy." He lifts himself up to plant an affectionate kiss on your lips, his gaze even darker now. "Take what you need, darling."

His approval is all you require to move your hands even higher, clutching hungrily at his shoulders as your sensitive nub lies even flatter against his skin, the rubbing now so intense it keeps you from staying silent and cogent. You revel in your all-encompassing passion as you feel your walls fluttering against his own responsive arousal, filling you with the overwhelming sense that you are getting closer to the brink of endless wonder.

"Keep going, sweetheart. Almost there."

Arthur's sweet encouragement brings you back to a surprising state of awareness. You've only been intimate a few times, but they seem to have been enough for Arthur to learn when you're reaching your edge, aware of the effect his coaxing words have on you, prying a release from you every single time. Even when it's his choice of position, he still helps you rut yourself over him, making sure you chase your pleasure to completion first.

You must have slowed down your movements as he's compelled to spur you on. "Don't stop, missy. Not now. Keep going." His hands shove your weight forward to pick up the pace again. "Be my good girl and come around me." His wish is your command as you start to move unrestrained against him, your eyes closing shut as delectation devours you. "Come on. Need you to do this. Need to feel you, angel." His fingers bury themselves on your hips as he pushes you over the brink of deliverance. "Let me feel you feel good."

Your climax is heaven on earth as you arch back into the air, your head tilting back in victorious ecstasy as it hangs dreamily on cloud nine. In a thrilling change of pace, you soar up rather than sink your pleasure into the constriction of a worn-out mattress or the bumpy surface of a bale of hay. The only thing anchoring you is the firm build of Arthur between your thighs.

Your hands leave Arthur's shoulders to an aimless destination as you feel his own reach for your back, helping you ride your wave of pleasure, placing soft conciliatory kisses around your chest. Low soft grunts still leave your slack mouth when you slowly open your eyes, feeling your chest puff against an obstruction. When you look down, you see Arthur's face buried between your breasts, sucking gently at your damp skin. You take the opportunity to rest your head against his, feeling him hum with appreciation as he wraps you tightly in his arms.

It's a while before he comes up for air and even then he chooses to kiss your lips instead, his tongue still wet from nuzzling your bosom, hurried inside without ceremony. Rather than letting you come down from your high, it sustains itself with the extension of his enveloping kiss, making you tangle yourself against him in pure bliss.

"That was great, missy." His face slants to look up at yours as elated as you are, drunk on your own rapture as if it were his.

You take the chance to move slightly as you resettle on his lap, your core still sensitive as you brush against him. His member still pulses inside you and you're reminded of the pleasure you still have to bestow him. "It ain't over yet, cowboy." You push his shoulders to make him lean back against the bed, feeling very little resistance as he realizes it's his turn now, giving him a peck on his lips when he settles. "Show me what you had in mind."

His face turns somber, his eyes grow darker and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows your words, preparing to quell the overbearing lust running through his veins. His hands move to their previous place on your hips before you cover them with your own, encouraging him to move you however he desires. You feel the ridge of his knuckles shift as his fingers begin to knead your bruising flesh, his grip tightening as he finally starts to roll you against him. It's not long before your speed hastens and your pulse quickens again, needing to brace yourself on his shoulders, allowing close contact between your loose lips.

"Christ, missy. You're so good to me. You know that?" The meshing of your hips turns noisier by the second as they begin to slam into each other, his hands now directing you in up-and-down thrusts. "I oughta keep ya all to myself."

His member slides easily in and out of you with the blend of your fluids, his release approaching as he repeatedly hits your magical spot, both of you panting from renewed exhilaration.

Arthur keeps his eyes on you as if he's realizing something, you practically see a question form with the furrow of his brow. Suddenly he slows you down, limiting your thrusts without stopping them entirely. You know he's about to ask you something important if he's delaying his own release for it.

"You sleeping with anyone else?"

The question catches you by surprise, but you're quick to reply. "No."

It's the truth. You haven't slept with your husband in months and, when you did, there was nothing about it that was enjoyable or sensual. The last time was a brief tussle to get him off before he left for Annesburg, one where you didn't even pant and he didn't care if you did. You remember vividly feeling empty as he filled you up, the cracks on the ceiling as exciting as his thrusts. Just another passionless night with another heartless man in a list of too many few.

Now that you think about it, nothing can compare to what has happened between you and Arthur in the past few days. Not even close.

Your negative answer earns a purr of satisfaction from him, reaching for your chin with his fingers to pull you in. "Good. Keep it that way, yeah?"

You nod in agreement as you lean into his mouth, his tongue prodding yours to seal your vow of exclusivity as you surrender to the man who wants you all to himself, burying himself deeper within you.

His hands go back to your hips before they settle on your rear, grabbing hungrily as you both resume your lascivious pounding, the feeling intensified by the unceremonious binding of your union. Your breasts bounce wildly in front of him, earning his undisputed attention as he tries to land his lips on them. He stops when he begins to grunt disorderly, leaning his head against the headboard as he prepares to finish.

"Need you to rise, missy. I'm gonna--" He bites down on his lip, his teeth sinking hard as his hands promptly clasp your hips with all the will still left in him, with enough force to remove you from his cock, sitting you on top of his clenching thighs. He manages to stroke himself a few times before the white ropes erupt as he directs them to his stomach, his whole body trembling beneath yours. An earthquake of a deeply satisfied man.

He pants as he opens his eyes, his hands caressing your shoulders as he propels you forward to his kiss.

"So good to me.”

Your breasts dance against the sinful cadence of his heaving chest, his words reverberating close to your beating heart.

“And only me."

Your first ride on top is one to remember.

----

The weeks never passed so quickly before Arthur, much less this blissfully. You keep track of the days since you met for the first two or three weeks. But then the count becomes hazy, blurred by the consuming nature of your passion, the devouring nestling of your thighs, the countless collisions of your lips.

He visits you when he can escape from his other life, twice a week most times, three times if you're both lucky. He usually arrives with the sunset, his shirt still soaked from a hard day's work, his neck dusty from the ride over. You quench his thirst right away, first with your lips and then with a glass of water, watching as he heads to your bedroom to wash away his impurity in your vanity. Just like on the day when you first met.

You usually have dinner ready, repeating dishes he has previously enjoyed, always making sure you have extra potatoes. You try to have a cooled pie waiting for him, one he'll gobble up even after a big meal, regardless of its flavor. But apple remains his favorite, you can tell. He brings sacks full of groceries, bottles full of whiskey, and handfuls of game meat, enough food to feed the both of you and have leftovers. He stuffs himself until he can't take anymore, satisfying a bottomless hunger that only your cooking seems to appease. Just like on the day when you first met.

He makes sure to tap his belly when he finishes, the fabric of his shirt stretching as it swells. "I'm gaining weight from your fine cooking, missy."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't eat so much, Mr. Morgan."

"Can't help it when you cook so well."

"I know a way to burn it off." You know he loves your sly remarks as much as your cooking.

Once his tastebuds are satisfied, he usually grabs your arms, pulling you into his hot embrace or his fidgety lap, tugging from you fervent kisses to try to indulge his remaining need. Sometimes you're able to escape to finish the dishes, most times you aren't, his stomach not the only part of him that stretches after dark.

You always end the night holed up in your bedroom, the many phases of the moon depicted in your window as they change, your lustful connection never once waning. He stretches you out on the mattress, working you with his tongue or his hands, prying you open to receive him. He buries himself in your tightness, sometimes letting you stroke him beforehand, his size always a scintillating marvel when pressed against your fingers or your walls. He envelops you with his whole body or lets you straddle him with your thighs, hungry to feel your release, getting off on your seismic pleasure every time. He's careful to finish out of you, tainting both of your flesh with the white stains of a sinful tryst. You always end up in the iron grip of his loving arms, soothing each other before sleep tames you. Just like on the night when you first met.

He wakes up in the morning next to you, sometimes energetic enough to go again, sometimes satisfied enough not to attempt it, lavishing you with sweet tender kisses instead. He drinks your bitter coffee and eats your runny eggs, his gaze twinkling with the soft light of the morning sun. You brush his hair with your fingers before he covers it with his hat, the hanging ropes on the brim swaying as he kisses you goodbye, the sound of his parting boots heavy in your yard and in your chest. Behind he leaves his vow to come back. Just like on the day after you first met.

And just like a few days after you met, he comes back to keep his word, bringing with him the exciting promise of the sunset and the sensual touch of the night.

----

It is a particularly hot afternoon when Arthur arrives with his shirt covered in blood, the stench nauseating as the sun intensifies, the sight heart-wrenching as you think it's his own spill.

He can tell from your face you’re riddled with anguish. "I'm fine, darling, was out hunting is all." He unloads from his horse the deer he caught, already skinned and prepped for a fresh meal. "You in the mood for some stew?"

He places the carcass on your kitchen counter, chopping it up into sizable chunks as you prepare to salt most of it, leaving a few pieces to cook for dinner. He's thoughtful enough to remove his shirt right away and you draw him a bath to wash away the viscous blood still on his chest and shoulders.

When he's inside the tub, he's insistent that you scrub him. "I can't reach my back, missy. Think you can help me?" You try to hasten the washing as you still have to prepare dinner and wash his clothes, earning a reprimand from him. "Go easy on me, darling. I don't like it so rough."

You soften the swabs of your sponge, enough to hear him relax with deep breaths, his back sinking against the edge of the tub. "That feels real good, missy." You have no choice but to scrub his chest, which turns into a very bad idea once he starts pecking your lips, interrupting your movements as he gets bolder by the kiss. "God, I missed you, sweetheart." It’s been three days since you last saw each other. Your mouths entangle as you feel his wet hands dampen your back. "I miss these lips every single day. You know that?"

When he gets tired of you skidding away from him, ignoring his kisses so you can continue to wash him, you suddenly feel his hands reach the side of your hips, picking you up from the ground to land you with a wet crash on his lap, your skirt heavy with the weight of the water as you soak in his embrace. You try to contain your amusement as he attempts to kiss you, soon edging his tongue into the middle of your lips, satisfied only when you hum in unexpected pleasure.

He stares at you for a few seconds, tracing the shape of your mouth as if he's never seen it before, stretching your lips with a few soft rubs of his inquisitive thumb as if to test their malleability. "Prettiest lips I've ever seen."

"Well, they're all yours, partner." You think your remark is a rather lame flirtation but it turns into much more as his eyes suddenly darken and he inhales deeply before giving you the most selfish kiss, taking your words to heart as he takes what's rightfully his.

"Too pretty for an ugly old fool like me." You splash him with water to reprimand his off-putting self-deprecation, making him grab your hands so you can stay still to continue to ravage your defiant lips.

Somehow you convince him to let you go, promising a belated recompense if he lets you finish your chores. You try to leave the slippery tub with some difficulty, chuckling at his childish pettiness when he refuses to help you up. Eventually you manage to get on your feet, shedding your clothes before going to get some dry ones.

He’s sore enough to complain as you leave the room. “Wish you could leave your lips as easily as you leave me.”

Despite the temptation of returning to his arms, you try to get a move on with dinner, the pot by the fire soon filled with softening venison and herbs. You scrub his bloodied shirt against the washboard in your yard, your hands turning frightfully red in the attempt. It’s pristine blue when you finally hang it on the clothesline.

You turn around to head back inside when you see Arthur standing on the porch, only a loose small towel hanging from his waist.

“Dinner ready yet?”

“Hold your horses, would you? I’m adding the potatoes now.”

“Well, if I can’t have your lips then at least put some food in my mouth, woman!”

You give him a defying look as you pass him on the way in, trying to ignore his clinging. “Running your mouth not enough for you?”

He’s quick to grab you tightly from behind, his breath hot as it blows in your ear. “Not even close, missy.”

You try to break from his embrace unsuccessfully. “Why don’t you put on some clothes and then we can eat?”

“You better eat quick then, 'cause I ain’t waiting long.”

His impatience seems to ease when he finally starts to eat the stew, sitting in his chair with a new set of clothes, still dented from the shape of his saddle. Despite his threat, dinner is not rushed and you actually enjoy it, soothed by the comfort of the food and the pleasure of your company. He even lets you do the dishes first, all while you enjoy some of his unbelievable tales of his time out West.

When you go to get the glasses from the table, he stops you in your attempt and you know you've gone far enough. His grip is strong on your forearms but he verbalizes his wish rather than pull you down. "Sit."

His lap is inviting, spread enough to cushion the width of your rear as you climb on top of him face to face, the feeling familiar once his kisses start pouring, your hands grabbing his neck as you always do. What you don't know is this time won't be like any other.

It's when he pauses the work of his tongue that you know something is off, his eyes staring as he gains the courage to ask you an intimate request. "I want to feel your mouth on me, missy." His thumb returns to the place it was brushing in the tub. "Take me with those pretty lips of yours."

Your face burns hot as you hear him, first from the lewd nature of his wish, second from the realization that you've never done it before. The eagerness in his eyes is ignited and you feel a tingling at the prospect of pleasing him as he desires.

An act so debauched it seems akin to blasphemy. Then again, you've gone this far in your adultery, why not please your lover as he desires.

“Think you can do it? Hm?”

You nod in agreement, ready to cross the threshold of the gates of hell.

"Good. Get on your knees for me, would ya?"

Arthur helps you off his lap, his hands clasping your hips until you're standing, then reaching to undo his pants. You lower your knees to the ground, supporting your hands on his thighs to ease the landing. His cock is in his hand by the time you're down, stroking to grow his size.

His free hand reaches the side of your head, petting you lovingly as he prepares. "You comfortable?"

You suddenly worry that your lack of experience will be too telling, unsure how to bring him to completion this way. You decide that perhaps it's best to be honest, giving him the chance to teach you how. "Arthur." Your hands caress the hard bone on his knees as he looks at you with interest. "I've never-" Your tongue is suddenly sticky with fluster. "I've never done it before."

His face turns somber as his hands suddenly rush to your upper arms, tightly grabbing them to pull you up. “Jesus, darling. Should’ve told me.” His grip is strong but not enough to move you. “Get up, sweetheart. We’ll do something else.”

You rise from your knees to sit on his lap while you protest his decision. “No, I want to, Arthur. Really.” His hands pull you closer to his chest as you sit on him sideways. “You just have to tell me how.”

He looks into your eyes to see if there’s truth in your words, his brow knitting in concern. “You sure? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want.”

“Yeah, I want to.” You kiss him on the lips to sweeten the deal. “Teach me how to make you feel good.”

The tip of his thumb returns to your mouth, swiping it lazily as he ponders how to proceed, making sure you don’t regret your words. His hardness is now resting on your leg, which makes you even more eager to go through with it, kissing him again to see if he makes up his kind. "Tell me how you like it."

“Christ, missy.” He gives you one last peck before he squeezes the softness of your thigh in encouragement. “Let me get up, would you?”

You’re a little confused as to why he’s getting up, but you rise anyway, sitting back on his chair as he directs you down with his hands on your shoulders. He pets the side of you arms and face before he inches backward, soon shedding his clothes unceremoniously, his member stiff as it protrudes from his nakedness. You watch as he clears the table in front of you, piling the remaining tableware on the other side of it, leaving his glass of whiskey behind. He’s so tall he easily sits on the table without barely the lift of his heels, his feet then coming to rest on the side of the chair by your thighs, his erection on the table right in front of you.

His lips glisten with the remaining shot of whiskey he takes, placing the empty glass next to his leg. “If anything don’t feel right you tell me, yeah?” His hand caresses your jaw as he assesses your psyche. You feel yourself getting wetter in anticipation, your heart beating a little faster and your palms getting a little sweaty. You hope to serve him well. “I don’t want you swallowing, ok? Just spit on this here glass. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

His free hand encircles around his member, pumping lazily to get him ready for you. You take the chance to spread your hands on his thighs, gently caressing him to help him relax, hopefully convince him you’re calm yourself, willing to carry on with his lesson.

“Just do what feels good, missy.” The grip on your jaw tightens as he slightly pushes you forward to him. “Nice and slow, darling. It ain’t a race.” You nod in understanding, his eyes blown with wanting as his thumb brushes your lips for the last time. “I'll let you know what to do. You ready?”

Your yes is enthusiastic and clear, your lips moving against his finger before he drops his hand, pulling himself closer to the edge of the table so you can access him more comfortably. His grip returns to the side of your head to lightly brush your cheek as the other hand guides one of your own to his shaft.

Your palm feels hot and damp at the same time with his slick slathered around the stiffness of his flesh, the one you’ve touched so many times in your erotic nights. His fingers instruct you to resume his ministrations as you feel the ridge of his veins between your heedful fingers, stroking so you get used to feeling him, preparing to take him with your mouth.

His hand guides your head upwards so your lips can meet, savoring you with his full intent, wetting your mouth with the drip of his tongue. When he eases his grip on you, you take the chance to dampen his chin and his jaw, soon reaching for his neck as you lean into the roughness of his beard, settling on the softness of his collarbone. You continue your passage downwards as he continues to brush your hair, his other hand now petting your sinking shoulder, leaving your hand free to fondle his cock in slow but pleasing strokes.

The kisses you leave on his chest are plentiful and dragged until you reach the hollow of his navel when you suddenly feel him grab your hair as his tip brushes against the skin of your throat, a hitched breath leaving his own. You push his member lower so you can begin to kiss the area of his groin, your hand stopping its movements when your chin gets in the way, continuing his pleasure by circling your thumb around his tip. The combination of movements is welcomed as he begins to breathe deeper, both of you quivering with anticipation as you begin to breach the gap between his cock and your mouth, pecking the skin around the base as you wait for instructions.

His thumb caresses your ear in tenderness as he finally speaks. "Use your lips first, darling."

It seems natural to continue to kiss him, your lips landing unhurriedly on his base, his warmth as delightful as the other parts of his skin. But it feels different for him as he takes a deep breath, his fingers curling close to your scalp, urging for more of your touch. You're quick to continue to peck him, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the top of his eager member, stopping before you reach his tantalizing crown.

Unsure how to proceed, you look up at him. You've never seen his eyes so dark, blown with need. The hand on your hair moves, his thumb brushing your lips as he parts them, reaching the inside of your cheek before he swipes the ridge of your salivated tongue, driving it out of your mouth.

"Use your tongue now, missy."

His wet thumb drags against your hair as his hand returns to the back of your head as you move down, both of you anxious to feel the brush of your tongue against his stiffness.

There's nothing gracious when you finally make contact, your taste buds coming alive with the bitterness of his flesh, the hot feeling against your tongue much like the one you felt on your fingers before, the sensation both familiar and new at the same time. You feel resistance against his hardness as you begin to move your tongue in unthoughtful movements, suddenly hungry to stretch it fully to slather as much of him as possible. It must be pleasurable enough for him as it earns his audible approval, his cock twitching underneath the roughness of your tongue, his hand moving with your head as you swirl aimlessly over the length of his shaft.

Your back and forth movements are amateurish, sloppy, crass even, but you hurry them along as you feel his breath hitch, a burning desire building in your own core, holding the base of his cock to hold it closer to your mouth, your other hand squeezing his thigh. You continue to lick him until you finally feel his fingers clasp your shoulder. "Slow down, darling. Easy."

You reduce your tonguing, aiming for a relaxed rhythm that's more attuned to his liking as you hear him grunt deeper and more frequently as his arousal builds. You notice he is particularly sensitive at his tip, his breath hitching further as you lick its underside repeatedly. Before you realize it, the circle of your lips begins to surround his tip as your tongue slides forward, soon taking him deeper into the tightness of your mouth, dragging his flesh along the hunger of your buds.

When a few inches of him are inside you, you feel his hand curl in your hair. "Take it out now, missy." It's the high-pitched breath he gives you when you retract that indicates what he likes, so when his tip touches yours again, you immediately set out to sink him inside you once more until you repeat the motion again.

His hands tighten around your skin and he huffs deeper as you suck around him, your head bobbing to bring him in and out of you, getting him closer and closer to a state of uncontrolled bliss. Somehow, he still has the presence of mind to grab your immobile hand around his base, urging you to pump him as you still work your mouth around him. "That's it, sweetheart." His words are muffled by the prelude of his peak. "Fuck. Don't stop."

As your mouth adapts to the feeling, you begin to ease into your movements, taking him deeper as your mouth waters, your chin soon dripping with excess. As your hand continues its work, you feel your own core swell, needing to slightly graze the seat beneath you to seek some comfort. When you feel none, you begin to rock in the chair, removing your hand from his thigh to your own as you begin to circle your bud. You are so aroused by Arthur's own thrill you're quick to pant yourself, your own moans now engulfing him too as they land on his hot flesh. But they're no match to his, your own pleasure so enticing to him he suddenly gets louder, beginning his ascent into uncontrollable madness.

"It's time."

His words are barely perceptible between his grunts, his muscles flexing and his hands now grabbing you, almost edging on pain as you steady yourself back on the might of his thigh. His release comes quick after that, his member twitching against your cheeks as you finally feel hot fluid reach your tongue, soon flooding the rest of your mouth in depraved novelty, tasting the curious elation of your gratified lover. His spill is bountiful and you're soon fighting back the urge to swallow it, remembering his wish that you spit it out instead.

Once he stops his effusion, it takes him a while to gather composure, his tip still inside you as his grunts overflow, growing quiet with each breath. His hands push you back until you reach the back of the chair, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet noise, dripping with his white release, a few drops landing heated on your thigh. Still overwhelmed with ecstasy, he reaches for the glass by his side before his thumb returns to your lips, either to wipe his seed off of them or to rub it on them more evenly. He then brings the glass right to them.

"Spit, darling."

You gather most of the slick around your mouth before you spit, his remnants still coating much of your insides as it mixes with your saliva. The milky fluid drips into his glass like molasses and he puts it away once he's satisfied with the outcome. His hand returns to your jaw, giving you a few pats before he unexpectedly leans in, taking your wet lips into his as he begins to taste himself on you.

"You did so well, missy." His eyes lock into yours, your hands clutching his hips as you hear his praise. "Such a good girl for me." Your lips smack with the sound of wetness. "Let me take care of you now."

You regret when he leaves your lips, moving backward as he reaches for your hands, removing them from him before his feet hit the ground. He stands as he looks down at you, giving you an extra peck before he places his hands at your waist, pressing your legs to wrap them around his torso, lifting you up without delay. He places you down on the side of the table where he sat, the wood still warm from his own thighs, his hands then moving under your skirt, pulling your bloomers all the way down.

"Take the rest off, darling. I wanna see you."

You're quickly naked for him, your bare bottom close to the edge of the table as he begins to dowse you with wet kisses, from your lips to your breasts to your navel, his movements hurried as you already groan from built-up arousal. When he returns to take one of your nipples into his mouth, you suddenly whine with vexation. "Arthur, please!"

He looks worriedly at you as you lead one of his hands to your core, showing him how wet you are for him, closing your legs around his hand when he begins to rub your clit. "It's ok, sweetheart. I got you."

Arthur gets on his knees in a swift determined motion, his hands stretching your legs open so he can place his head between them. He wraps his arms around your thighs, inching you closer to the edge of the table so he can have full entry to your needy core.

You’re already a slobbering mess when his tongue begins to lavish between your swollen lips, tightly bracing your thighs to hold you steady. You let out deep repressed grunts, your back falling restless against the table as he begins to suck you mercilessly, returning the favor of devouring your flesh, prying delectable pleasure from you. Eating you as famished as he ate his dinner right on the same side of the table.

You’re a sight to see if anyone were to walk into your yard. With the windows open, curtains swaying with the night breeze, the lamps illuminating the sinful romp unfolding inside. You’re splayed on the table, breast bouncing with each panted scream you let out, hands clutched around his hair, thighs and back undulating around him. His face is covered in your cunt, his arms flexed to hold you, his knees rocking against the floor where he kneels. The most sinful act unfolding at the place where you're supposed to say grace, not receive it.

The work of his tongue is overwhelming as you quickly reach the point of no return, further intensified when he teases a finger at your entrance. When it's finally curled inside, you begin to lose control, your unrestrained cries only stifled by the walls, your eyes closing shut in blinding gratification. Your hands leave his hair, flailing around to find some solace, finding none. Instead, you knock down Arthur's glass, his release spilling on the floor below as the crystal breaks. Soon after that, you break too.

Your climax is as ruthless as your journey there, prolonged by his unrelenting need to keep you writhing under his tongue, feeling your whole body quake for him. Your mutual moans of gratification coalesce into a salacious tune that is only broken when you beg for mercy. "Arthur!"

He looks straight into your eyes before he removes himself from between your legs, raising from his position to move to your side, leaning down to kiss you softly, caressing your arms as he attempts to bring you down from your delirium.

It takes a while for you to still, your legs still trembling as they arch on the table, your core still exposed to the breeze coming in, the coarse wood suddenly a nuisance against your bare skin. Arthur somehow manages to read your mind, sitting back on his chair before he pulls you down onto his lap again, resting your spent head on one of his shoulders, soothing your sweaty back as your breaths even again. You stay like that for a while and, when you move, you feel your skin sticky against his, like you're not meant to be pulled apart.

"I think we need another bath." You croon against his ear before you dare to press your lips against his beard.

"Mhm, I guess so." His fingers attempt to comb your damp hair. "You gonna leave those pretty lips of yours with me this time?"

It takes all your strength to pull your head back to see his glowing eyes again, his question still adrift in them. "Maybe I'll leave all of me instead. How about that?"

"Oh? You will?" His kiss tells you what you want to hear, his tongue soon prodding yours as he breathes you in. He breaks when he is satisfied, bringing his thumb once more to the cushion of your bottom lip. "Gonna have to clean the mess I made in you then. Leave you as pretty as I found you."

You nod, your smile widening as you remember the taste of him. But something behind him catches your eye as you look over his shoulder, seeing a wet splatter across your dining room floor. "You're gonna have to clean my floor too, mister."

It's the way he laughs, his joy reverberating on your chest, his hands moving gently along your curves, his hips jiggling you with contentment, his lips stretching into an undisturbed smile, his eyes looking into yours with fearless passion. It's the way he asked if you could please him as he wanted, the way he gave you the same thing in return. It's the way he holds you close after making you feel so euphoric. It's the way he makes you realize you're deeply in love.

----

It was too good to be true. The boundless joy Arthur's given you was bound to break, sooner or later. You'd just hoped it'd be later.

Fetching mail at the Valentine station was always dreadful, your heart always heavy as you climbed the wooden stairs, as you stared at the mustache of the station attendant, waiting for your loathed turn. You'd ache at the sight of another letter from your miserable husband, promising his eventual return, notifying you of a new deposit, defacing written words of inexistent love.

But this time the letter is different, not the usual sandy stationary he uses. Instead, it's a pristine white envelope and the handwritten address tells you immediately who it's from. Your Aunt Caroline always had the prettiest penmanship.

Your feet lead you unconsciously to the nearest bench, sitting down just as you pry open the envelope, smiling as you see your aunt's good wishes. I hope this letter finds you in unbridled joy, my dear. It really does.

Her pleasantries are plentiful as she details her new life in Saint Denis and how much it has aided your uncle's health, who seems much improved with the change of scenery. The heat was bothersome at first but now it seems to suit them quite well. Their social calendar has kept them busy as they have adapted to the city's high society, their connections growing with their substantial wealth. They seem to only want for one thing: the treasured company of their favorite and only niece.

She formally asks you to go visit them in Saint Denis, knowing well that your husband remains in Annesburg while you continue your simple solitary life in New Hanover. The invitation is endearing and for a moment you relish the idea of visiting your beloved aunt and uncle, the people who raised you after your parents passed. Spending a few weeks with them should be invigorating as they spoil you with their genuine affection, even if they might insist on parading you around in uncomfortable dresses at pretentious dinner parties and soirées. After months of solitude, it might be bearable, enjoyable even.

But then you remember Arthur. You suddenly feel the ghost of his hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, his thighs on your own, his breath hot on your ear as he tells you how much he wants you. The thrilling memories of the past few months come flooding in and suddenly your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, the only lover who's ever treated you right. It'd be foolish to do him wrong.

But then you read more of the letter and your heart breaks even more.

I have written to your dear husband Stanley regarding your visit to Saint Denis. He has informed me that he would like to come see you once you are settled with us, requesting new correspondence once you have arrived. He will make his traveling arrangements then.

The trip is suddenly surrounded with gloom at the mention of seeing your husband, his presence the last thing you need back in your life. Your knee begins to shake involuntarily, the heel clicking and echoing around the unusually quiet train station. The notion of leaving Arthur to return to that scoundrel is revolting, like running from a safe haven to go chase unruly tornados.

But then you read your aunt's following paragraph and you realize you have no other choice.

I really do hope you get to join us here for a time. If not for my sake, at least for your uncle, who seems to yearn to hold his little girl in his arms again. He speaks so fondly of you every day. I'd be jealous if I didn't regard you with the same consideration. Perhaps you'd like to oblige the wishes of a sentimental old couple while you still can. I've never known you to be unkind. You were always the light in your woeful lives. I hope you get to be it once more.

And in that moment you realize your love for them is much bigger than your resentment for your husband. Or your passion for Arthur.

I look forward to seeing your sweet smile again, the one you happily got from your sweet mother. Wishing you were here already, Your Aunt Caroline

You take a deep breath as a sound grabs your attention. It's a little boy sitting down on the bench in front of you, his mother urging him to behave as they wait for the next train. Her caring hand is on his shoulder, petting him lovingly as he calms down, his feet hovering impatiently above the floor. He must be the age you were when your aunt and uncle went to pick you up and took you from the only life you knew, petting you lovingly on the shoulder too.

You rise from your seat, your mind made up as you walk to the station attendant so you can send a letter to begin preparing for your journey to Saint Denis.

You just hope Arthur Morgan forgives you.

----

It's a hot afternoon when you return home, your mare Amber back in the shade of your stable, your skirt brown on the brim from the Valentine mud as you tread up the stairs onto your porch. You're wondering how you might survive the Saint Denis heat when you see a bouquet of fresh flowers resting on your windowsill, begging to be primed on your prettiest vase. There is a note stuck on the closed door, a ripped page from a journal.

Sorry I missed you. A. M.

It saddens you to see Arthur was here and you weren't, unable to receive his eager kisses and his gentle embrace as you tell him how much you like the flowers. Your heart aches knowing that you may not have many chances to do it again.

Upon much reflection, your decision still seems sound as you think of the joy you'll give your uncle as he gets to hug you again, letting you win at cards when he thinks you can't tell. Your aunt will welcome you with her kind and trustful face as she begins her attempts to get you to eat as much as she can, her cakes as soft as the pillows where you'll sleep. It'll be heaven to be with them again.

But you can't shake Arthur from your mind. To pause your love affair seems crass, both to him and to you, especially now that you know each other so well. You can't even bear to think of ending it all together, a thought so cruel it robs most of your night's sleep. When you somehow sleep a wink, you wake up exhausted, dreading the moment you have to tell Arthur the news of you leaving him. Either for now or for good.

It's not surprising he comes to you in the afternoon, barely a day after he missed you, desperate to see you again. He doesn't bring you anything, just the sweet return of his arms and the hunger of his lips, his presence so comforting it makes you swoon with elation. Somehow your doubts dissolve when you feel him breathing you in.

His longing for you is clear as he leaves his saddle quicker than usual, kissing you hurriedly, not even bothering to lead his horse Titus to the stable, hitching him to your porch instead. When he returns to kiss you again, you see why. His pants are tented much more than usual for this time of day.

When your hips meet, his eagerness brushes directly on your waist but he has the need to tell you himself. "Sweetheart, really need you right now."

You toy with the seam of his pants, threatening to unbutton him right then and there. "Missed me, did you?"

"You know I did." He reaches for your hand, urging you to lower it, soon palming his growing arousal over the fabric of his jeans. He kisses you sloppily, shameless lust running through his veins. "Need you now, missy." His breath hitches as your fingers work your magic. "Needed you yesterday too. I can't wait any longer, sweetheart."

You suddenly stop your teasing, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can whisper close in his ear. "Inside."

You watch his confused expression for a moment before you grab him by the hand, walking him up the porch as you lead him inside to the living room, quickly beginning to undress as you sit on your davenport, your boots off as you throw them across the floor. You've never seen Arthur undress this fast, his cock is in his hand as you still work the buttons on your blouse, stroking himself as he watches you toss the remaining clothes.

His breath is already heavy when he settles on the davenport next to you, guiding you onto his lap before he kisses you deeply, once, twice, thrice. His hands run over your body to warm you up, tantalizing your skin with the sweet touch of passion before his fingers focus on your nipples, riling you up for what's to come. He then speeds up his usual slow approach as he begins to circle your clit, his member anxious as it falls on your thigh and you begin to stroke it.

Arthur begins to moan with built-up arousal and you see him getting more impatient by the minute, clutching one of your hips to try to contain himself, hoping he lasts long enough to sink inside you. One of his fingers enters you, trying to open you up for him so you can quench his intolerable ache. Two fingers are inside you when he finally admits defeat. "Missy, I- I need to-"

"Get inside me, Arthur."

He lets out a grunt before you feel his hands at your waist, clasping you tightly before he picks you up with all of his brute force, laying you down on the sofa underneath him, spreading your legs apart so he can place himself in the middle. His breath is loud and frantic as he brings a hand to his beading member, brushing it up and down your slit until he finally gives in and enters you, quicker than either of you had hoped, the feeling strained until you adjust to him, moaning into the thick air around you as he begins to move inside you.

His hands grab your thighs forcefully as he begins to slam himself against you, chasing a high that intensifies with each thrust. Even as he fills you to the hilt, he craves more, trying to deepen himself within you until he disappears completely. Unsatisfied, he places the back of your knees on his shoulders, bending you to his will as your thighs press against his chest, your knees on his shoulders, his face lowered against yours as he finally gets you in the angle he was craving.

Folded underneath his greed, succumbed to his complete will and desire, you feel every muscle in your body come alive with passion, blinding pleasure devouring your every sense in the most salacious position he's had you yet. Face to face in reciprocal vigorous lust, it's not long until both of you are consumed by ravenous sensations of ecstasy and release, unsure of how long you stare into each other's eyes before you both still in satisfaction, both breathing frantically as he rests his foreheads against yours. It takes a few moments before either of you ease on the tight grip you have on each other's flesh, your fingers only easing when your lips wrap in delightful gratitude.

When the time comes for unfurling yourselves, your knees crack from the stretch, your muscles aching with the strain of your stance. Arthur helps you onto his lap as he sits, rubbing pleasingly as he sees you struggle to extend your legs. After a few minutes, you're well enough to head inside to your vanity and begin to wash yourself, his seed sticky as it cools on your stomach. When you finish, you realize you still have to tell him you're leaving, a derangement after the proximity you just shared.

Your skin is still damp when you return to the living room in your nakedness, leaning against the wall as you watch Arthur collect his clothes from the floor, then sitting down once his pants are buttoned, all the while staring back at you.

"Seems I can't enough of you, can't I?" His forehead is still aglow with sweat, his locks darker from the exertion, contentment painting his face as he smiles. But your stomach turns violently.

Your face must show your worry as he suddenly frowns. "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk."

He instinctively holds out his hand for you to take, directing you to join him as he motions you to sit by his side.

And then you tell him.

----

Two weeks are all you have left until your trip to Saint Denis. The letter you get from your aunt a few days later confirms that a hired carriage will take you to the city a week from Friday, your departure from Valentine scheduled early in the morning so you may travel in the comfort and security of the daylight, the trip already paid by your eager aunt and uncle. You are to make use of the remaining time to put your affairs in order. But only one in particular matters.

Arthur took the news of your trip better than you expected. At least initially. He understood your need to take the trip from the moment you told him, encouraging you to do what is necessary to be a good niece. But you could see he was pained when you told him you weren't sure how long you'd be gone, that the trip might take you away from him for several weeks, months even. He looked at you with his disappointed opulent eyes, swallowing hard at the notion of losing you, even if temporarily. Yet his words were nothing if not supportive and unfazed, the hands on your hips claiming you could go.

But it is the way he lingers behind every day until your trip that tells you just how much he's dreading to see you leave. The first few days he leaves for his work in the morning, coming back at night to spend the evening with you. But the closer to the day, the more he delays his departure and hurries his arrival. One day he doesn't even leave at all, staying with you until the time comes to escort you to Valentine.

His presence is more than welcomed as your efforts to close down your small property pile on. He helps you take your chickens to a friendly farmer up north, then boarding up the coop so no wild animals nest there. He mends part of the fence that surrounds your homestead, ensuring it's tall enough so no one can break in while you're gone. He fixes the bent hinges on your front door, so it may close safely and hold until you return to open it. He helps you eat most of the perishable food you still have and helps you sell the rest of it so it doesn't spoil. He offers to help you pack, but he mostly just sits on the bed as he watches you pack your clothes, his sight watching your every move and every fold.

He mostly keeps his hands busy with work until he gets to put them on you, holding you so close to him you think you'll bruise and your aunt's maids will notice when they help you dress. He takes you everywhere he can. On your bed, on your sofa, on your stable, on your dining table again. On the floor of the kitchen when you were stubborn enough to attempt to clean up one night. On the back of your wagon after you sold your remaining supplies in Valentine.

"Someone will see us, Arthur." You whispered as you tried desperately not to come apart.

"Let them,” he dared as he sank inside you again, his own limit verging forward. "Let them see how pretty you are for me."

----

The last day is more emotional than you imagined. None of you speak much, the palpable tension hanging in the air like uninvited mist. You finish packing your bags, tidying up the rest of the house so you can find everything in its place when you return. Arthur is absent most of the day but you figure he must be close by as Titus remains at the stable. You're unsure of what he's doing but you realize how upset he must be if he doesn't even want to be with you. The soup you serve for lunch is as cold as the look he gives you, a man clearly dreading the change about to come.

Your chores are finished as the afternoon begins to unwind, the whole time dreadful as you both loathe the upcoming goodbye. Arthur shows up when you finish placing your bags on the porch, offering to hoist them up to the wagon now led by your mare Amber. You'll leave her to the care of the Valentine farrier until you return.

A bittersweet feeling invades you when you walk through your house one last time before you leave, making sure your windows are closed and the lamps are put out. Every room is flooded with memories of the irresistible time you've had with Arthur, one that is so regretfully about to end. You close the door on your now darkened house and you wonder how different everything will be when you open it again.

Despite his obvious sorrow, Arthur helps you climb the wagon, caressing your elbow once you're settled. "I'll come round here every once in a while. Make sure it remains closed."

His promise to guard your home is comforting and you smile at him, both as a thank you and as a hint to kiss you. But he shies away and mounts Titus instead, leading you out of your yard and into the road of a reality where your dazzling affair ceases to be.

The ride to Valentine is mostly silent, or at least one-sided as you attempt to tell him of your aunt and uncle's burgeoning life in Saint Denis. You barely get a response out of him, his short replies muffled by the raucous of the wheels of the wagon. You're almost at your destination when he utters his most verbose reply yet.

"Those rich folk in Saint Denis… Don't let them change you."

"I won't."

He nods his head swiftly at your affirmation, the leather of his hat shining with the last rays of the parting sun.

It's dusk when the muddy trails of Valentine slow down your wagon, making the trip to the hotel vexing. Arthur drops off your bags at your assigned room before you both head to the farrier, where you woefully say goodbye to Amber. You leave with the farrier's word that he'll take good care of her and you believe him as he begins to count the money you pay him in advance for his service.

Arthur invites you for dinner at the saloon before you retire to the hotel, paying for both your meals despite your insistence to do so. The ambiance is rather noisy as the pianist plays away and the town's drunkards begin to gather at the bar. Both of you eat quickly to leave before the unavoidable ruckus of the night begins.

When the door of your hotel room closes, both of your spirits are solemn and hushed, the tension of the day dragging inside, festering along with the dread of saying goodbye. Arthur stands by the door unlatching his belt before he sits on a chair, watching as you pretend to busy yourself with arranging the luggage, waiting for word on what to do next. You feel his eyes follow your every move, shifting in his seat as he tries to gather the courage to say something. But the impasse drags on as you keep avoiding him, afraid that his heartbroken gaze might break you. You fiddle with the dress you plan on wearing tomorrow, kneeling down on the floor as the tension between you grows to a suffocating standstill, neither of you prepared to end the affair between you.

After a moment that seems to last forever, you feel Arthur’s heavy feet on the floor as he moves towards you, his knees then sinking next to yours on the floor, his hands grabbing you by the hips, his chest warm against the curve of your back. Instead of speaking a single word, his lips find the crook of your neck, getting it wet with the start of his goodbye. You lean back into him to welcome his touch as you realize this is the start of what could be the last time he holds you like you belong together.

His lips busy themselves with whatever part of your skin they can find as you feel his hands roam among your peaks and your valleys, ruffling the cloth that keeps him from kissing the rest of your body. You clutch the side of his thighs as you open yourself to his advances, your head falling on his shoulder as his hands work their way south to pull up your skirt. A stifled groan leaves your throat when he glides through the inside of your legs, warming you up to the sin about to come.

Instead of leaving your thighs, his hands tighten around them, pulling you closer to him as he plants a hungry kiss at your collarbone, now grinding himself against your skirt, your nails clawing at his jeans. You’re lost in the euphoria of the moment as his arms flex and he suddenly picks you up from the ground, your legs going limp as you surrender to his brute tender force.

Before you know it he has you spreadeagled on the bed as he rises above you, his fingers gripping your waistband to remove your skirt in one swoop, returning again to remove your bloomers, the cold of the room hitting as your core and your wetness are exposed. Arthur looms, watching you for a moment before he gets on his knees again to begin kissing your inner thighs, staying on them for longer than you wish, hungry to be lavished but still dreading the departure. Impatient, you grab his hair with force to lead him to your center and he soon wraps his lips around your own, prying from you unadulterated bliss like always.

You are not sure if it’s because you are parting, or if it’s because he knows you so well by now, but your release comes faster than usual, leaving you a whimpering fool at the foot of the bed. Your feet steady on the edge of the mattress, your legs still shaking as you watch Arthur through them. He rises and undresses, his lips still shining with the taste of your cunt. He’s soon naked before you, working his arousal as your chest tries to settle, a futile effort as you realize you’ll soon be panting again.

The sweat still damps your brow when your eyes meet in tandem, the moment before either of you acts on the urge to surrender against each other. His throat contracts with the itch of desire as his hand still works, his feet bringing him closer to the bed. You unbutton the frivolity of your shirt, stripping yourself for him and exposing your breasts just as you expose your yearning for him. Your sore legs extend as you scooch higher into the bed, leaving them open for Arthur to ravish you.

Your eyes never part as he climbs the bed, his hands coming to caress your naked body as he pleases, starting on your knees, your thighs, your waist, your breasts. Like he’s trying to imprint in his mind what it feels like to touch you. His thumb travels up your throat with his usual softness, undercut only by the roughness of his calloused skin. He traces your jaw a few times before he dares to finally bend down to kiss you like it’s the first time. Or maybe the last.

Everything that happens next is both too slow and too fast at the same time as you begin to blend together. It’s both a bittersweet goodbye and an overjoyed gratitude for your time together. The perfect love affair that may never come again.

His kisses turn hungry but deep and slow, his body now overbearing you with the crushing weight of losing him, the only man that has ever made love to you rather than possess you. Your hands pull him closer to you, roaming his physique for a possible way to make him fused into you so you can never let him go. But there is still a part of you that aches for him to go deeper.

His full size is hot rubbing against your stomach, tantalizing you with the remaining part of him he still has to give you. You moan into him as his tongue delights with yours, your hips undulating against each other, rocking the flame of hot desire running through you both, itching to burn into ashes. Your hand slides down from his chiseled back, entering the tight space between you, soon finding a way to the hard pulse of his member. Your fingers resume his efforts to excite him, his mouth opening in surprise as it still wraps around yours, trying to swallow you as he tries to contain his elation. Your hand is steady, enough to get him to open his eyes so he can see yours, begging him to slide down so he can enter you once more.

His strong hands are quick to grab the thickness of your thighs, placing them beside his hips as he positions himself between them, his erection now pressed against the lips he has kissed countless times in the past months. He rubs himself against your folds, tantalizing you with the depth of ecstasy your whole soul desires, eager to feel him pulse inside you, a feeling to be recalled once you're back on your own. His hands settle close to your buttocks as he angles himself down, prodding your entrance with eagerness in his proud but roaming eyes.

The stretch is pondered as usual, perhaps even slower as somehow you feel it more achingly, your body coming alive with the tip of his carnality, soon devoured by breathlessness as he settles deep within you. His chest is high above yours before he moves to close the gap, his lungs soon reverberating atop your breasts, his hands now holding onto your shoulders to finish his burial. A somber pause follows as you look into each other's eyes, closer than two bodies could ever be, the silence only broken by the beating of aching hearts, now realizing the time has come to end their unwanted goodbye.

The sad realization is only broken by your mutual restlessness, the will to finish what you started. The first roll of Arthur's hip comes as natural as the tears forming in your eyes, which manage to escape after a few more of his thrusts. As he picks up the pace, somehow holding you in his arms as you hold him in yours, the sex seems miraculously paced, not too fast so you can’t savor it, not too slow that you can’t quiver with every move. The perfect farewell of an imperfect romance.

The bittersweet rhapsody is only broken when Arthur suddenly speaks.

"Come back to me, missy." Another crash of your hips. "Come back to me."

The weight of his words is not lost even as you start to lose control. In fact, they seem to unravel you faster as you realize his desire for you runs as deep as yours for him. His complete surrender to worship your body and his fixed gaze on you tells you he means it. He keeps his tempo steady to inch you closer and closer to another heavenly release, struggling hard to contain his own. You watch as his muscles flex in restraint, his eyes adamant to watch you unfold into expected bliss, his member repeatedly crashing into your sensitive spot. You try to savor the high as much as you can, wishing it could go on forever, but it becomes unbearable to hold it in. You have no choice but to surrender to Arthur’s parting wish to see you come for him.

You hope that one day you’ll be able to grant him his wish to come back.

----

Valentine grows incredibly quiet once the noise from the saloon quiets down, the night perfectly still for a few hours before the sun breaks, the perfect lullaby to fall asleep. But when the dawn comes, the racket on the street below your hotel window gradually wakes you up as you lie on your side of the bed. The other side is empty.

Arthur’s belongings are gone, his clothes no longer crumpled by the foot of the bed, his gun belt no longer hung by the door. But his aroma lingers behind and you inch closer to his pillow to bury your nose in it. The image of him reaching his peak flashes in your mind, his mouth agape, his eyes strained. You feel the faint sensation of his cock still buried inside you, your walls clenching at the memory. The sheets are stained with his sweat, which left behind a musky smell, now the only evidence of his passion for you during the night. He held you in his arms for a long while after your romp, but neither of you uttered a word, knowing full well there was no better way to say goodbye. You looked into his piercing longing eyes before you fell asleep to the lulling of your quiet valentine.

His absence this morning tells you how hard this is for him. He’d rather abandon a comfortable bed with your naked body than watch you leave, unsure if you’re ever returning to your side of the bed. You can’t tell how he slipped out so quietly, his footsteps are always as heavy as his build. Perhaps he tiptoed until he left the room, scared he’d beg you to stay if he saw you awake. Or maybe the sex left you so satiated your sleep was deeper than his escape, maybe clanging his boots loudly on the floor in the hopes that he’d wake you.

You want nothing else but to seclude yourself under the covers, shielded from the outer world with nothing but the memories of Arthur to keep you company. But by the way the sun begins to shine you can tell it must be a little before seven, so you must not have much time before you are to be ready. You stay still for a few more minutes, his pillow still underneath you, the duvet entangled on your legs as if they were his own. His words still ring in your ears. Come back to me.

Getting dressed is easy even if the dress is not, something more formal so you can enter Saint Denis in a more reputable fashion. Your aunt ought to love the paleness of its blue. It can’t take you more than half an hour to have everything ready, your luggage and your hat ready to put on by the door. You figure you still have a while before your carriage arrives. You give in to the craving of laying back down on the bed, thinking of him right where he had you. You don’t remember closing your eyes when a knock on the door rouses you and you’re still yawning as you go down the stairs, your last piece of luggage being carried by your driver. The smell of Valentine hits your nose as soon as you step outside and you become fully awake.

The carriage is small but very comfortable, the cushions soft but sturdy enough for a long voyage. Since you’ll be traveling alone, there’s room enough to stretch your legs and sleep sideways. But only after the stink of the town stays behind. For now, you think you’ll read the novel that has sat by your nightstand for the past months, untouched since the day a stranger stole an apple from your yard.

As soon as the carriage starts moving you know you’re not gonna be able to read, the words soon becoming blurry by the sway of the wagon. You look outside the window as the farrier comes into view and you hope to get a glimpse of your mare Amber but all you see are brown and black horses inside. She must be kept on the other side of the stable. The Valentine mud gets stickier as the road continues, but the buildings get scarcer and the smell quells once you cross the railroad track.

Nothing but thoughts sit with you inside the car. Thoughts of your aunt and uncle and their faces when they see you arrive, the sweet tender moments you’ll have in the upcoming weeks. Thoughts of a classier life in Saint Denis and how much you’ll miss the perfect solitude of your cabin, the magical stillness of the nature that surrounds it. Thoughts of your husband and the disgust that comes with them, a bitter ache that you might see him again, a painful reminder of a loveless marriage that you’d like to escape.

But more than any other thoughts, thoughts of Arthur. Thoughts of the months you have spent together crowd your every inch as you recall moments you’ve shared, embraces you’ve exchanged, kisses you’ve borrowed, passion you’ve stolen. A lover you’ve earned. He has made you come alive again and again and suddenly it hits you how vital he has been in your life. It’s no longer a question of how much you’ll miss him but how much it’ll hurt to be apart from him. It’s a question of how long your heart will ache while the muscles of your body still recall the respite of his healing touch. Will it be long enough for you to reach Saint Denis? Will you make it there and still feel him on you? Are you doomed to feel him forever? Has the memory of his lips turned into unending despair? The New Haven scenery stretches out before you but your eyes see a blank veil as the wheels of your mind turn in fallen sorrow, crippling thoughts consuming you, setting you on a ride to remember.

The ruminating of your mind is broken when the carriage suddenly slows, stalling when two men on horseback cross the intersecting road. You look out to the right side window and see the edge of the woods. A dead tree stands out, half broken as it lays snapped in half on the ground. The gentlemen emerge from view as they make their way past the carriage. The first is a sullen man, his face covered in deep scars that make him even more menacing. The second is Arthur Morgan.

It’s as if he materializes from your thoughts, as if he knew you needed to see him again. You try hard not to blink for fear he’ll scurry from you again. He slows his horse steadily, his eyes never leaving yours once he finds them, his chest immobile despite the breath he takes as he watches you pass, his leather gloves tightening the grip on the reins. In a few microseconds you feel your throat close and your hands going limp, your body and your soul dumbstruck by the mere sight of your lover.

You both remain still as you watch each other pass, frozen by the flames of passion still burning between you. A few seconds feel like hours as the carriage turns on the road, until suddenly his figure disappears from your window. You snap, swiftly turning your head to look out of the back window, your knees steady to hold you in position as you stare at him once more. His position has moved to watch you leave, his own horse wondering whether he should follow behind you.

But it’s his eyes. His unyielding radiant eyes strike you mad, his irises fixed on your own like he’s trying to tell you something.

Something only you can decipher. Something only you can fulfill.

Come back to me, missy.

Come back to me.

A/N: The next chapter should be out soon enough. It has been written in my head for months now. It is after all, the reason why I made this fic in the first place…

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #thank you all to those who have given me feedback hoping for more #it has helped me continue :)

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