i saw you were accepting requests again yay! could you maybe do a lil age gap between arthur and f!reader where hes kind of scared he can't keep up? idk if that makes sense sorry!
Fine Wine
plot: arthur and f!reader have been dancing around their feelings for each other for quite some time now. the reason? their age
warnings: age gap (obviously legal), insecure!arthur, mentions of sex but nothing explicit
no established relationship, f!reader, high honor arthur, set in horseshoe overlook, mutual pining,
wc: 1.7k
arthur pic is from @/ireenred on tumblr, the other one is mine
Chopping wood sure was one hell of a thing. The act of splitting a log with brute force, metal slicing easily through the timber sinews like a knife through soft butter. Dangerous in a way that was comfortingly domestic, yet so violent that watching someone perform the act felt almost cathartic.
"Quit staring and do your work."
The harsh words of Susan Grimshaw made you reluctantly retreat from the palace of your mind and you went back to sharpening knives. A faint rosy tint spread across your cheeks when your object of adoration turned to see who the older woman's anger had been aimed towards. He turned away quickly, pretending he hadn't just witnessed you being caught in the act, but you recognized the ghost of amusement on his face by the way the skin around his eyes crinkled slightly.
It was rare, seeing Arthur Morgan smiling.
"Laugh it up, cowboy!" You chided, narrowing your eyes at him. "And go on, I was enjoyin' the view."
The tables had turned now and Arthur's face reddened like the sun on the desert sky. You winked at him before returning to your set of knives as though nothing had happened. Bashfully, his glance darted between you and the axe in his hand, seemingly fighting a battle of whether he would feed into your games more if he complied, or if he didn't. He opted for the latter, setting the tool aside. The man walked towards you slowly, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust with every foot he set forward on the dry ground. There was a certain weight to his step, you thought — one that he had been carrying for too long.
"What're you gettin' at?" He eyed you quizzically as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
"You know what I mean, don't act shy now." You retorted.
When it came to your feelings for Arthur Morgan, you had never been one to hold back. On the contrary; it was you who was the one to strike up a conversation first, you were the one to kiss him in a drunken stupor, and you were the one to drag him from the fireplace and into his tent on the fateful night of Sean's return. Despite mere days having passed, it felt like it had been eons ago that your name had left his lips in that sinful, saccharine cadence. He had been avoiding you ever since. Thinking back on the memory made you feel hot despite the cool breeze that carried through camp.
You knew his mind was a mirror of yours now, and you could briefly recognize a flash of regret cloud his features before he hid under his gambler hat. You couldn't even pretend that this show of character didn't feel like a dagger being pushed straight between your ribs. You had never thought of Arthur as being one to bed a woman and abandon her after he had gotten what he wanted.
He cleared his throat before speaking, but his voice still sounded coarse. "Can we talk somewhere more… privately?"
You nodded in response, unsure of whether your dry throat could produce a single sound. You put the knives aside and straightened your skirt, preparing to get your heart broken by Dutch van der Linde's most trusted associate. The man in question turned on his heel and bee lined straight for the border of the small forest clearing you resided in. After checking if the coast was clear of Ms. Grimshaw, you followed him.
"You that ashamed of what we did" You crossed your arms when he had come too a halt right by the treeline, out of eye- and earshot. "Or just ashamed that you did it with me?"
Arthur's eyes widened at your accusation. "No, that ain't it, sugar. Please don't think that-" He was looking at his hands now, as if the words he was trying to find would be written there in smudged ink. Your heart pounded at the pet name. The last time he had called you that was when you were panting beneath him in your birthday suit.
"I was givin' you the chance for an out." he began, finally having found his footing. "You're a beautiful lady, don't get me wrong, but that's exactly my problem."
You looked at him with furrowed brows — he had been avoiding you because you were too pretty? You let him continue.
"The way you look at me is drivin' me up the walls," he stepped closer, putting his palm on your cheek, "but you don't wanna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, even if you think so right now. I'm too old for you, darlin'. Even if it kills me to say so."
You went quiet for a moment, taking in what he had just said. Piecing together the puzzle; it suddenly made sense that he'd turn tail at the obvious flirting, the innuendos, and the deliberate ways you wanted him to notice you. And the fact that he had finally given in once his inhibitions had disappeared down the drain with the liquor he drank that night. You looked up at him with big eyes.
"Look around you, Arthur." you gestured towards the camp, "The rich folks from the big cities would all say we don't match, or that our little family is doomed to fail." His hand on your cheek hadn't left its spot, and you grabbed it with yours.
"If age is the only thing keepin' me from you, you gotta get your priorities straight." Your fingers squeezed his. "I'm all grown, I know what I want."
Arthur's blue eyes pierced you like the sky reflecting the oceans colors. He looked almost pained at your words, as if he was fighting his inner demons to give in to you. Your gaze met his, and you could see that you had already won. A triumphant smile flashed across your face. He noticed.
"What's got you smilin', lady?"
"I know you, Arthur Morgan. You've already made your mind up." You got on your tiptoes, placing a delicate kiss on his chin. "I've been waitin' for this moment like the tide waits for the moon."
His facades faltered at your words and he pulled you in abruptly, as if he had been drowning all this time and you were the water's surface. A strong arm kept you pressed towards his side and he leaned down to kiss you, the seconds it took him felt agonizingly slow. The touch of your lips ignited a fire within you that hadn't burnt since his hands were last on you. You let yourself be pushed against a tree, taking note of the way he maneuvered you with ease. Arthur allowed your hands to roam, exploring every inch of him. Even through the rough linen of his shirt you could feel taunt muscles from years of hard labor. The thought of what might lie beneath the white fabric made your mouth feel dry in anticipation.
You didn't know how long the two of you lingered there. The sun had already set when you both sank against a tree stump, your head resting on his shoulder.
"Shouldn't we get back? People might be worried." You questioned, making no effort to sound convincing.
"Nah," he responded, pulling you in closer. "I'm on guard duty for tonight, anyways."
"I got chores, too, you know." The reply was meant to be a joke, but you did fear the wrath of Susan Grimshaw nonetheless.
"As the second in command," Arthur mused, shifting his tone to the one he used to bark instructions, "I implore you to keep me company on night shift."
"Can't argue with the boss."
Your response elicited a gravelly chuckle from the man next to you. His hand found its way onto your thigh and he squeezed before he got up, taking his cattleman from its holster with suspicious ease. For a second, he stood towering above you still kneeling against the log.
"My favorite view" You purred, giving him an innocous look.
Arthur nearly choked on his spit. "You're somethin' else." Hastily, he pulled you up. "I changed my mind about you stayin' here. I ain't gonna be catchin' a single bad guy when you're sittin' here, makin' those eyes at me."
"Whatever you say, cowboy." You giggled, earning yourself one last kiss before parting ways.
Arthur gave you a one-over, clenching his jaw as he did so. He seemed to be making his mind up about something. He thought for a few more moments before taking off his beloved hat and putting it on your head. It smelled like him, pine cones and gun smoke.
"So you remember whose tent to go to tonight." He explained.
You grinned at his words when you made your way back to camp, where Karen and Mary-Beth were already awaiting your return. The two women seemed elated to see your face again after you had disappeared from the face of the earth for the past few hours. Karen was, as always, the first to speak up when you closed in on them.
"You better have a good excu-" She began, before being hastily interrupted by her equally worried friend. "Oh my, Karen! Look at her head!" The two blondes turned to each other in disbelief before falling into a fit of giggles. You were left dumbfounded at their reaction.
"What? Arthur gave me his hat because he didn't need it at night, no big deal." You attempted to wave it off, but the pair gave you a look that quickly shut you up.
"You don't know about the cowboy hat rule?" Mary-Beth asked sincerely.
You shook your head, which was all they needed to break out into two giggling messes again. "Someone fill me in?" Your attempt to sound annoyed at them was feeble, their laughter too contagious.
"Well," Karen began. "Whoever wears the cowboy's hat-" She looked at Mary-Beth to finish her sentence. "Has to ride the cowboy."
character voices r so hard. half my time writing is spent analysing my dialogue and asking myself "WOULD arthur rlly say that???? would he????". and then i delete half of the conversation in a fit of rage
