#Also John Marston sounds like he has a head cold.

[doctorcanon]

Revised Voice Headcanons (Linked Universe)

Some have been changed others simply rearranged.

Wild: Rory Alexander as Matthew from Xenoblade Chronicles 3: Future Redeemed

Wind: Antony Del Rio as Ekko in League of Legends

Twilight: Robert Allen Weithoff as John Marston in Red Dead Redemption 2

Four: Aaron Vodovoz as Sova from Valorant

Hyrule: Robbie Daymond as Sorey from Tales of Zestiria

Legend: Troy Baker as Yuri Lowell in Tales of Vesperia

Sky: Johnny Yong Bosch as Yu Narukami in Persona 4

Time: Jamieson K. Price as Sojiro Sakura from Persona 5

Warrior: Ray Chase as Noctis Lucis Caelum in Final Fantasy XV

[sky-is-the-limit]

Safe and Sound.

P: John Marston x F!Reader

S: After a mission goes wrong, John makes sure that next time you'd better fucking listen to his instructions.

CW: Unprotected P in V, John has a breeding kink *unless you give him an actual child* and can't shut up.

WC: 2,817 words

Notes: Finally, after months of not touching this draft, I finished it!!! Photo credits: me<3

With your pace quickening by the second as you ascended the stairs, the thud of your footsteps echoed on the wooden surface like a warning to anyone standing in your way.

You tried your best to ignore the presence of the man trailing behind you, you really tried but his simmering anger practically followed you like dark smoke ready to consume you.

Each step taken, you hoped that someone else would steal his attention, that maybe Arthur would intervene or that he would simply let the matter drop but you knew damn well, that's not John Marston. Not your John.

Entering the cold room, your heart pounded in your chest erratically as you struggled to steady your breathing and seeking peace, you turned toward the window, hoping the beautiful green landscape beyond would offer a moment of tranquility from the chaos awaiting for you behind the closed door.

But before you could gather your thoughts, the calm was shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

Your stomach churned as anxiety settled in your bones. You knew all too well what was about to unfold and sure enough, mere moments later, the door flew open with a forceful slam, jolting you from your place.

"When are you going to learn how to take orders, huh?!" John's voice boomed, cutting through the silence like a knife.

His frustration reached its peak as he shoved the door shut with such strength that the entire room seemed to tremble under the strain.

"I had them-" You began, attempting poorly to explain yourself but before you could finish your sentence, John cut you off abruptly and stepped dangerously close.

"Had them?! If it wasn't for me following you right behind, they would've blown your head off!" John's anger thundered through the room with his hands gesturing wildly in the air, emphasizing his emotions.

"I told you to take the road to Rhodes and lose them but you're so fucking stubborn that you almost brought them here!"

The words were a harsh slap, each syllable dripping with disappointment.

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you listened to the man before you and guilt gnawed at your bones, knowing that your actions had put not only yourself but also the man you so adore in serious danger.

''Damn you, woman! Next time, invite the bounty hunters here for a beer!"

John's frustration surged uncontrollably as he mocked your ill-conceived plan to handle six bounty hunters single-handedly, so close to camp.

Despite the impulse of your pride and ego to bite back, you couldn't deny the truth. You had indeed put everyone in jeopardy with your reckless actions.

The memory of him risking life and limb to come to your aid filled you with a deep sense of shame and since the moment you stepped into camp, you didn't look a single person in the eyes.

You had failed not only yourself but also John and the rest of the gang, the family that took you in when you had no one else in the world.

Your actions had nearly cost them dearly and the thought made your stomach churn with guilt.

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, you stood there in silence with your gaze remaining fixed on the ground, unable to meet his eyes as you fidgeted nervously with your fingers.

The words hovered on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't bring yourself to say them, afraid that they would get choked in your throat before they could escape.

But then, with a trembling voice, you finally managed to whisper, "I'm sorry, John."

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you recalled the disaster you caused.

John was clearly still lost in anger as he took his time to register your apology, his features contorted with both rage and sympathy or so it seemed.

You could see the tension in his jaw as he shook his head slowly, as if struggling to come to terms with it all.

Without warning, he grabbed you by the shoulders, his fingers pressing firmly as he pulled you close.

The apology lingering in the air seemed to snap something in him, the fury shifting to something deeper, something that made his eyes darken with intent. You knew what that look meant. Damn well.

His mouth crashed onto yours, fierce and bruising like he was trying to make up for every reckless decision in that single, heated kiss.

The roughness of his hands anchored you against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he pressed you back until your spine met the wall with a soft thud.

He didn’t bother slowing down, his mouth tracing along your jaw, biting down slightly on the tender skin just beneath your ear and a shiver ran down your spine then back to your lips as he mumbled against them,

''Damn it, woman… don’t you know I’d die for you in a heartbeat?'' The grip of his hands tightened as the rough whisper made you whimper in response.

''I want you safe. I want you right here with me.'' His words were half desperate, half demanding, each one grounding you against him as he backed you harder against the wall.

In one swift motion, his hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist.

Holding you against him, he walked the short distance to the bed and his steps sure until he nearly tumbled forward, letting you fall back onto the mattress.

The thin sunlight filtering through the window barely reached the room’s corners but you didn’t care who might hear or what they might think.

John’s fingers fumbled roughly at the buttons of your dress, barely controlled as he yanked and nearly tore the fabric in his urgency.

The soft material parted, falling away to reveal your bare skin and he didn’t waste a second, his mouth moving to your breast with a hunger that made you gasp.

His lips closed around your nipple, sucking hard as his hand gripped your waist, holding you tight against him as though afraid you'd pull away while his stubble scraped deliciously against your skin.

The louder he groaned, the more you tugged at his raven hair, pulling his head closer to you.

He growled in response, sucking even harder, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak until it felt almost sore and still, he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, whining against your skin like a man starved.

Your breath hitched, the ache building as you slid the fabric lower, down to your waist, your own impatience making you press against him, desperate for more.

A low, needy sound escaped your lips as his teeth grazed over you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel his fingers digging into your flesh.

"John…" You managed, barely able to get the words out, "I need… more."

The golden light streaming in bathed John’s face in a perfect manner, highlighting the rugged contours and deep scars that mapped his skin like a constellation.

''Do you want me inside, girl?'' He grumbled as the sound of his thick belt hitting the floor echoed around you.

With each second, your body ached with need as you licked your lips, hands slipping beneath his shirt so your fingers could explore the hard muscles beneath.

''Please, please, please…'' The words tumbled from your mouth, desperate and whiney, your heart racing at the thought of losing him after everything.

''Take it out.'' John then demanded, his tone commanding as he watched you intently. ''Touch me.''

As requested, you undid his pants and slowly pulled his hardened length free, earning a low moan from his throat.

John was easy to read, all emotions visible on his face as his breath quickened with each passing moment and his skin felt hot under your fingers, the desperation in his expression deepening whilst you began to stroke him.

He lifted your skirt, shoving it up around your waist, exposing you completely.

''Try to put me inside.'' He instructed, ''This time, you better listen to me.''

John just watched you, a smirk playing on his lips, savoring the moment as your frustration bubbled over.

The way you scowled and whined his name only added to his amusement and he laughed almost mockingly, relishing in the control he held over you.

''This is a lesson, alright?'' He said, taking himself in hand and stroking it a few times, teasingly rubbing it against your throbbing core without pushing inside.

Each pass made you squirm, your hips lifting instinctively as you sought relief.

But before you could gain any traction, he pressed you back down with a possessive glint in his gaze that made your heart stop.

Then, without warning, he slammed into you, filling you completely.

Your warm walls wrapped around him, squeezing tightly as a gasp escaped your lips, the suddenness of it taking your breath away.

The initial sting was intense, causing you to wince but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar heat of him inside you.

Arms wrapped around his back, nails digging into his flesh, you were certain you were leaving your mark on him.

John held your leg firmly against him, angling himself to sink deeper, each drive rougher than the last as he took his time to savour every desperate sound you made.

His thrusts were brutal, pushing into you with a force that made you both want to stop and continue till your body no longer answered to you, fingers clinging to him, barely able to hold on under his weight.

''You gonna keep pushing me like that?'' He muttered with a low rasp as he kept you in place. ''This is what happens when you don’t listen.''

You could feel him shift, pressing himself into you as far as he could go, giving a harsh grind of his hips that made you moan his name. He smirked, relishing every shaky breath you took as you struggled to keep up with his pace.

''Just like that—God, John, don’t stop-'' You gasped, breaking as he bottomed out, his cock hitting the perfect spot that sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

He let out a rough growl, hot breath brushing against your neck as he leaned in, teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your whole being tremble.

"I’m not stoppin-" He grunted, thick with the kind of promise that left no room for argument. "Not stoppin’ till I give you my child-''

As if that promise wasn't enough, John’s hands slid to the back of your knees, pressing them higher until your thighs were almost pinned to your chest, opening you up completely.

He took one heated glance at where his thick shaft was buried inside you, watching as your slick warmth clung to every ridge and vein, before slamming into you again and again.

Each thrust hit that sweet spot dead-on, leaving you struggling to hold on, clenching around him as the ecstacy built with each brutal stroke.

You barely held back the cries tumbling from your lips, each sound swallowed up by his grunts as he took you deeper, the angle so perfect that it had your head spinning.

John’s roughened hand cupped your jaw, his thumb guiding your gaze down.

''Look here.'' He ordered with a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

His hips pushed forward, just enough to press your bodies together again, sliding his thick length into your sensitive heat with a slow, punishing thrust.

''See how you’re takin’ me..'' The possessiveness and pride were evident in both his gaze and tone. ''How perfect we fit.''

Your eyes followed his command, catching the way your bodies connected, each push sending a slickness pooling between you both, blending in a way that had you clenching tighter around him.

''Please, John… right there… more-'' You managed with a plea as your hips lifted to meet his every thrust.

"Keep watching.'' John rasped, pulling out almost all the way before pressing deep once more and you obeyed, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he filled you, stretching you just right.

With a smirk, John loosened your grip from his shoulders, his hands both forceful and assured as he pinned your wrists above your head, holding them steady with a single rough palm.

Leaning close, his breath warmed your ear as he muttered, ''Stay right there. Don’t you dare move.''

He shifted his weight, gripping the headboard tightly with his free hand and began an animalistic rhythm that not even the poorly made bed could handle.

Each plunge was deep, leaving you no choice but to surrender to every inch he claimed and the solid wood of the headboard rocked against the wall with each connection, mirroring the mounting fervor between you.

''John-'' You gasped, arching under him, hands twisting in his hold as the pleasure rose to an overwhelming edge and you needed nothing more but to touch him.

Despite your efforts, he kept you locked in place, smiling down menacingly, refusing to let you budge.

''Gonna make sure you remember exactly who you belong to-'' He declared, his gaze fixed on yours as he fucked into you harder, your bodies colliding with obscene sounds.

There was no holding back, he made sure of it, his hips ruthless and you knew without a doubt the others could hear every intimate detail from outside but John didn’t care.

If anything, the possibility only fueled him, his heavy breaths mingling with your cries.

Sweat trickled down from his forehead, beads gathering at his temples to run down his jaw and a few drops fell to your bare chest, sliding over the curves of your skin to mingle with the dampness between your bodies.

''Come on, darlin’-'' He murmured, his voice strained as he leaned in to press his lips against the shell of your ear, ''Let me feel it..''

And with those words, you let go, surrendering completely as waves of pleasure crashed through you, his grip grounding you as you reached that peak.

John followed shortly after, his head dipping to press a final, fierce kiss to your neck as he stilled, the two of you locked in that last moment of shared intensity with your bodies still entwined and breaths ragged.

The small bed creaked with each subtle shift, but there was a strange comfort in the intimacy of it. Just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of the night.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as if trying to shield you from everything outside this little moment and his fingers moved slowly, tracing calming circles on your back, each one a silent promise that everything would be okay.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The world outside seemed so far away, and in that stillness, you found a peace you hadn’t realized you were craving.

But then, the words slipped out before you could stop them. A soft sigh left your lips as you lifted your head, your eyes searching his for understanding,

"I’m sorry, John... for all the trouble I cause. For not listening to you when I should."

His hand paused but only for a moment before it resumed its comforting circles, as if the movement was as natural as breathing.

With eyes softened, the corners of his lips pulled into a small, sweet smile.

"It’s alright, darlin'." He murmured with a quiet rumble.

It wasn’t, not really but you were safe and sound in his embrace and that was all that mattered.

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, your lips finding the familiar scar on his chest, an old bullet wound.

You pressed a soft kiss there, as if trying to heal him in your own way, to show him that you cared just as deeply for the parts of him that were broken as the parts that weren’t.

John chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your hair as he tightened his hold on you.

"Don’t go apologizing too much, love. You’ve got a lot of fire in you and I wouldn’t want you any other way." He whispered, his fingers brushing through your locks.

"But hey, I’ll always have your back. No matter how stupid you get, you know that. And I know you'll be there for me when I’m being just as dumb."

A teasing spark danced in your eyes as you looked up at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

"Like always, you mean. You’re always doing something stupid, Marston." You teased, the giggle escaping your throat before you could stop it.

John smirked, his expression shifting into something playful to remind you that his stamina has no limits, especially when it comss to you. "Maybe you need another lesson on respect, huh?"

[victor-mortis]

Oc explanation time!

A summary of the curious world they come from:

It's a world exactly like ours, except these creatures exist. People consider them demons, but they're just supernatural/space warping entities. Some creatures, such as Gilgamesh, reclaim the term and call themselves demons.

Gilgamesh:

He/him

Voice claim: spectacular Spider-Man's green goblin.

Our favorite space dog.

Can change size at will. Don't ask me how, he just does.

Has tried and failed to eat the sun.

Inspired by the green goblin.

Likes to eat planetary systems. His species eats space junk, but gilgy gets ambitious.

Especially considering he isn't quite alive...

Breath-walkers:

(working title that stuck, it sounds dumb ik.)

Sometimes when a creature in the universe, betrayed by its peers, dies it becomes a breath-walker.

They have patterns on their skin. They glow with their emotions/use of power.

Their eyes also glow, and their appearance changes at will. They can be in their original form, or their true form.

Supernatural powers: decaying at will, illusion-ing (brain fuckery), and not needing normal animal needs. Like sleep and food.

Yes, humans have become breath walkers.

My 'persona/ universal self insert' is one. Why? Because it's kick ass that's why. I glow in the dark. 😎

The slush:

He/it/they/she/slime

Voice claim: the mystery flesh pit. Though sometimes they can develop themselves enough to speak. It sounds like a severely hoarse john marston.

The slime that traverses space time.

Can appear in walls, on walls, through walls, away from walls, etc.

No rules on formation. He's fourth dimensional.

Loves to eat lemons

He'll eat other things too. Once, he ate a car battery.

The dreamcatcher:

They/he

Voice claim: bubbles the dolphin from the SpongeBob movie.

He eats dreams. Sometimes causes nightmares.

Lanky lad.

Prefers moist environments. Big fan of humidifiers.

Ralphie:

It/he

Voice claim: Bart Simpson.

Furry. Big ears. Eats grass.

(created this guy on a plane ride. Dunno what his deal is yet.)

Bones Malone:

He/they

Voice claim: Norman Osbourne. (Not the green goblin, there's a difference!)

Named after that Tumblr post.

He's an actor, has been in several movies.

Part of a larger species called skeletons. They eat flesh sometimes. Recently made peace with lemons.

He gets cold easy. So he holds my jackets.

Loves spider man.

5'10 i think. I'm 5'3 and the top of my head is right where the bottom of his jaw is when i don't have shoes on.

The little guy in his shirt? Teacup. He's chilling.

Smoog:

He/it

Voice claim: Tobias Forge. Maybe.

Gilly suit thing

Leafy

Bites. Claws.

Loves to smile.

He has eyes but they're usually covered by his leaf fur... Feathers?

4th dimension abilities, able to bend his shape.

What is his deal? Uhngh. Bushes. He likes a good shrubbery.

[sentanixiv]

Tomorrow’s Problem

Something sweet to offset the feels that I attacked y’all with yesterday. John Marston suffering through the poor life choice of drinking more whiskey than his liver and body can tolerate.

-

Birds chirping have no right to sound the way they do this morning, piercing calls penetrating the deep fog of sleep and waking not only John, but also the heavy, aching pain of having indulged too much in liquor and too little in sleep after celebrating the success of their take late into the night. He groans, a sound which in itself is too loud, and drags the thin pillow of the hotel room bed over his face like it’ll smother noise. Or maybe him, because each second spent being dragged into the state of waking has him feeling nothing but regret.

Think you oughta slow up there, Marston. Keep at it and you ain’t gonna be fit for living come morning.

Even the recollection of Arthur teasing him about the pace with which he kept downing shot after shot sounds too loud and he buries his face in the mattress as though peace and quiet’ll be found somewhere between the feathers and springs that separate him from the bedframe and the floor beneath it.

That’s something for tomorrow John to deal with.

The cocky remark’d sounded witty, damn near hilarious when he snapped it out and tossed back the next shot in a line of too many that blurred the hours together, made hazy the hands of poker he’d played, then inspired his running into the alley, leaning a hand on the wall as he emptied his stomach of too much whiskey and too little food out onto the muddy ground. Vaguely, he remembers Arthur coming out to find him, holding back his hair and offering a rare find: Cloth-wrapped ice, a premium in these parts, that he was able to rest on the back of his neck, then against his forehead as the drinks wound down and his stomach knotted up, bringing with it a misery that’s three times worse this morning.

Let’s get you back to the room, Marston. You ain’t in any shape to stick ‘round here.

That explains how he got back here, their small safe haven of a hotel room in a town looking out for two degenerates that robbed a payroll stage late yesterday morning. Hazy memories fling themselves out of the dark void that follows the actions in the alley, then of John stumbling under Arthur’s guided patience up each stair and down the hall, of fumbling off the layers down to his union suit and then getting the brilliant idea of stripping Arthur down to have some fun, of being told to hold off for some time he ain’t drunk, so’s there’s no regrets about it, and then it fogs up into the murky sleep that he’s slowly pulling free of. John knows that any regret he feels would not have been from getting rowdy; every ounce of it relates to the sheer amount of alcohol he packed into his gut before his body stirred a riot against it. Still, he figures Arthur had it right, because he ain’t sure he’d’ve remembered the fun of it with the way he feels right now, ready to roll over and play dead if that’d make the hangover stop.

Only, he can’t. They need to ride out, connect with Dutch and the others a couple towns south, and that means John has to roll off the mattress and piece himself together no matter that he feels worse than shit dragged twice through the pigsty. He is ready to try sitting up when the creaking hinges of the door split open his head anew and he curls up into a ball in the middle of the bed, palms pressing against his temples to force his skull back together and a whimper slipping from him.

Gentler the door is when it closes, but the screech is the same to his sensitive hearing; the low rumble of a chuckle, however, is the first sound since waking that doesn’t make him want to wither and die under the cotton-and-nails chaos inside his head. John moves the heel of one hand to his forehead, pressing against the ache there, and the other peels back the pillow until he catches the blurry sight of Arthur walking soft and quiet across the room, setting a plate of something on the bedside and then nudging a cool tin hug moist with the condensation of cold water against the hand that’s holding back the poor barricade the pillow provides against the world.

“You’s gonna be fine, John,” Arthur tells him, voice pitched low and quiet where it doesn’t drive deeper the spikes of the hangover in his head.

John groans at the sentiment regardless, turning his face back into the mattress. “Don’t feel fine,” he whines, knowing it sure is a whine by the pathetic lilt of it. “Shootin’ me’d be doing me a kindness right now.”

The cold touch of the mug lifts as Arthur sits down on the bed next to him, a sigh let out to vent whatever chiding frustration he wants to bring up about warning him off drinking that much. “C’mon,” is what he says instead and he’s carefully brushing John’s hair back from his face, carding his fingers through it and coaxing him to turn his head towards him. “Got you some water, need you to drink it.”

Broken bones or gunshot wounds and John’d resist the treatment, but he’s feeling miserable and lets Arthur slowly get him up, braces an elbow under himself to hold himself there, half lying down, as Arthur puts the mug to his lips and lets him sip at it slowly. Cool water floods his mouth, dives deep into him and it’s the second soothing thing he’s felt this morning. The first is Arthur being here at all, being gentle over abrasive, and he figures it’s because ain’t no one else around to call him out for being soft on John. They’ve been riding a string of paired off jobs, the two of them, and some of Arthur’s harsh edges start wearing down the longer and further they are from the gang, from the expectations of it, from the work he seems to think falls squarely on his shoulders to bear, the rules he figures his to enforce. Some days it makes John think about not going back, letting Arthur be himself more than this rough jackass he’s been sculpted into, but the thoughts always fade too fast. It’s family, the gang, found and kept; it ain’t something Arthur can leave and even John ain’t fond of the idea to separate from it when he knows the hell that’s life in this country.

“Got you some eggs and beans, bit of bread.” Arthur unknowingly breaks that line of thought before it draws him in with the temptation it, pulling the cup away to set it down.

The smell of food, and the idea of beans after the night he’s had, leaves John wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Ain’t hungry,” he says and it’s true, but the look he gets? The borderline aggravation muscled quick under the hold of patience? Tells him he’ll be trying to eat and hunger ain’t got a thing to do with it. There’ve been times when that look ends up with Arthur forcing food into him with a spoon and his fingers prying his mouth open, but that ain’t been a thing since his early teens, back when John knew nothing about trusting anyone but himself. “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll try, just… gimme a few minutes here. Then I’ll eat’n we can ride out.”

The thought of riding with the way his stomach churns ain’t a fond one, but Hosea taught him oft enough that you dig the grave, you gotta fill it; sometimes, that means your pride’s what gets buried and sometimes it’s a body, but something needs to go there and he figures his pride will be the victim today. Reluctantly, John goes to push himself to a full sitting position, but Arthur puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back down to the mattress. Bewildered, he blinks and looks at him blankly.

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere yet,” Arthur says, wiping the moisture of the mug off his hand against the thin blanket of the bed, looking away at the windows that stand vigil over the main street.

Suspicion flares up and John frowns, almost makes the mistake of shaking his head and just barely holds off jarring his hungover brain by it. “We ain’t sticking idle because I drank too much,” he manages, though he’s not yet trying to push the hand away and right himself with any real effort. He’s tired and the water felt good, good enough that he’s starting to think that eating’s got potential too.

“We ain’t,” Arthur tells him flatly, leaving off the gentle press of his hand, a half-hearted pin he’d let keep him there, to stand up. “Heard a couple fellas last night talkin’ about the bank bringing in more money in a couple days, how they’s looking to pull law and security out of town to guard the stage when it comes in.”

Here he’s been thinking his drinking was stupid enough to land him in this state, now Arthur’s talking foolish plans about hitting the stage again? “No way we could pull off the same job twice,” John tells him, feeling odd being the one to point this out. All that added security means bodies and risks that they don’t have the manpower for.

Arthur grins and it ain’t bitter, it ain’t grim; it’s to the challenge, the idea of it being fun to him and that’s rarer the older they both get. “Ain’t never said we’d hit the stage again,” he says, hooking his thumb under his gunbelt. His eyes are bright, something that John ain’t seen since before Mary ended things and tore out what little heart Arthur had left. “All them folk pulled away to protect the stagecoach? Seems to me like we got a good chance of clearing out the bank while they’s all looking the other way.”

Two of them taking on a bank? The idea sits beyond the scope John can currently manage, his head threatening to split anew when he tries to sort the details, and he drops it down back onto the pillow with a grumbled, confused muttering. “How’s that supposed to go?”

There’s a shrug, a pat on his shoulder before Arthur starts towards the door. “I ain’t sure yet. You rest up, John. I’ll case the bank, see if we don’t got an opportunity too damn good to pass up.”

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Redemption of a Bell' : an crossover....between RDR2 & COD Cold War

What if.....Bell, the main protagonist of Call of Duty Black Ops Cold War, was in the story of Red Dead Redemption 2 ?

As the Dutch Van Der Linde gang's is on the run to escape the authorities after their botched robbery in Blackwater and trying to survive through the cold of the Ambarino region, one of their attempts against their longs rivals, the O'Driscolls, lead them to discover an woman left for dead by their leader after the attack.

However, this woman is an whole mystery for the gang, trying to find out what they could do about her, not even knowing her real name.....but Dutch has an plan for her.....and he will find an name for her.....

An crossover between Red Dead Redemption 2 & Call of Duty Black Ops Cold War

To read it on AO3, click here !

----------------------------------------------------

1899

Dutch van der Linde's gang is on the run, fleeing the authorities after what happened in Blackwater in West Elizabeth. It was the perfect occasion for all of them to get some money and everyone had plans for this to happen : Arthur Morgan & Hosea Matthews were on an easy job and it was all going to be nice but then, an bad idea from one of the gang's member and it all turned to shit, causing an bloody massacre in this town and causing everyone to flee.

The gang had no choices because of it but it was better to run than to be catched by the Pinkertons. They went up north in the snowy mountains of Ambarino and it was an nicely cover with an storm that were covering their tracks, avoiding the authorities to get them but they also lost people on the road and the morale was an bit low after these losses but like always, Dutch is here to bring up back the morale, asking everyone to have faith.

They took shelter in an abandoned town called Colter, awaiting for the storm to calm down and the snow to get lower as it was also preventing them to use the wagons to left the place. But of course, it's not that they were hiding that they couldn't try to make some moves in the mountains : Dutch, Arthur & Micah Bell has rescued an widow named Sadie Adler and next day, Arthur & Javier Escuella were saving the friend of the wolves, John Marston but now, it was more serious for Dutch.

He knew that in the mountains, there were some O'Driscolls boys hiding too and knowing the hatred he & the gang has for these peoples, there were no other perfect occasion to....see if their stuff couldn't change hands, Dutch having heard of plans about an train and some dynamite to be used so he took the chance : he brought Arthur Morgan, Lenny Summers, Javier Escuella, Bill Williamson & Micah Bell for this mission. He wanted to hit them O'Driscolls hard.

"Good." Dutch started after the posse arrived near the camp these O'Driscolls were hiding. "Now, Mr. Morgan and I, we’re going to head up here a little, see if we can’t get a sense of the layout of the camp." He explained, putting his feets on the snow, making an little sign towards the ridge that were going to allow him & Arthur to take an better look of the camp. "Mr. Williamson, Mr. Bell, you two take up a hidden position just outside the camp." He added, gesturing to the two before looking at Javier & Lenny. "Mr. Summers, Mr. Escuella, you two hold position here. Let’s go." He ordered before he start to walk towards to climb higher, followed by Arthur and then, they took out some binoculars once arrived. "There they are… That’s definitely them." Dutch said.

"Colm ?" Arthur asked, looking through his binoculars as he was focused on an man that was on an brown horse, talking to someone.

"I think..." Dutch tried to guess, moving his binoculars to look at the situation

"Yeah...that's him." Arthur stated after an closer look, recognizing the man that Dutch was hating deeply in him, still talking to that person near by.

"Who’s he talking to? He don’t seem very happy." Dutch demanded as he was trying to find out who was the person was talking and by the look of it, it was resembling as an young redhead woman, dressed like every men around her but as Colm was looking ready to go, Dutch & Arthur watched in horror as Colm took out one of his revolvers and fired 3 bullets in direction of the woman who immediately fall in the snow.

"No..." Arthur whispered, shocked by what he just saw. "That bastard !" He exclaimed as Colm was not even looking anymore at the woman he just shot down before he got up back on his feets. "Should we go get ’em?" He demanded in an voice that couldn't tell if he was angry at all about the situation

"Yes but Colm can wait. Best to get some of them outta there. And much less fun to rob him and his score if he never finds out about it." Dutch replied as he was walking away from the ridge to get back to their respectives horses....he wasn't shocked by the event, it was mostly Colm's behavior from time to time towards his followers. "Alright, let’s go pay our old friends a visit. Don’t forget to grab that rifle from your horse." He expressed his enthusiasm to get those boys, pointing out the rifle on Arthur's horse. "You boys be ready to pick them off from up there." He adressed himself to Lenny & Javier before starting on an path that Bill & Micah took to get down.

"Sure thing." Lenny told him, getting ready with Javier to greet any escapers on this path as Arthur & Dutch were going down to join the others.

"Like you said, revenge is a luxury we can’t afford." Dutch exclaimed to Arthur as the two were at the middle of the path, walking slowly to not get spot in advance by the O'Driscolls & mentioning words that Arthur said on the way to here.

"Yeah, I just wasn’t sure you agreed with me." Arthur explained, not sure of how to think about this...about everything to be honest.

"Arthur, Arthur, have you completely lost faith in me? Our needs right now are supplies, equipment and a way out of here." Dutch insisted on that 'faith', wanting everyone to keep it for the future, he was very insistant on it. "Everything else, including Colm, can wait." He added, arriving at the same level of the camp & seeing Micah & Bill awaiting in another hidden point of the camp.

"So what are we doing, Dutch? I can take this if you want." Arthur questioned Dutch after they sneaked further into the camp, hiding right below an cabin.

"Just make the call. You wanna take the lead? Go." Dutch complied, making an sign to Arthur, meaning that he was the one in charge here.

"Okay, I’ll go first." Arthur took an deep breath before going out of cover with his rifle. "O’Driscolls! You’re dead, you sons of bitches!" He literally yelled towards them, signifying the beginning of the attack against these poor devils.

At the second that he yelled that every O'Driscolls in the camp were like chille by the sound of it, totally unprepared for that situation as Arthur, Dutch, Micah & Bell were the first to open fire on every person they were going to try to fire back at them. The first victims were two guys that were going to move up the body of the woman that was gunned down by Colm himself and then, the long list was following for the O'Driscolls.

They could have tried to open fire.....they were immediately greeted by the bullets from the revolvers & the rifles of Dutch's boys. They could have tried to flee but they will be killed by the suppressing fire coming from Mr Summers & Mr Escuella, still on top of that ridge but now descending the main path to help the others in need, seeing the advance they were making inside the camp, killing every bastards that were hiding in the old cabins.

However, as it was seeming that everything was in order after an few minutes of fighting and that the group were going to search for anything useful that they had to fight again, this time, bullets coming from the trees that were in another part of the camp but it was not knowing the bravery of Dutch's men that the surprise that the O'Driscolls tried to do turned out to be the very last mistake they did in their lifes.

If they were not coming at them, Arthur and the others will come at them and like before, the surprising advance that the group did at this O'Driscolls group turned in their big favor, killing one by one everyone of them but there were also some lucky guys....cowards as Dutch proclaimed that managed to get away from the camp, not wanting to meet an bullet with their names on it. With now the camp peacefully secured, the group could finally proceed on what they came for.

"Good work, boys. Now, let’s tear this place apart. Bill, you go search that wagon there. Arthur, you take that building to the left." Dutch congratulated his men, happy about their exploits today and destroying hopes for an O'Driscoll future heist before giving the orders. "Alright men, quick! Find those detonators, explosives, anything you can. Let’s go." He ordered, causing everyone to split up to search what they needed : Micah was looting the cabins, Bill, the wagon Dutch pointed him to, Arthur, the building he was told to look at as Javier & Lenny were searching the bodies.

"Seems so good thing here." Lenny was with Javier as they were looking at the guys Arthur first killed with his rifle, holding an little silver watch in his hands.

"Don't be too greedy, Lenny." Javier scoffed as an good joke for him, seeing Lenny trying to put the watch on his wrist before something got his attention....an sound. "Wait, it's you that is breathing like that ?" He asked, hearing that loud & weird breathing near him, thinking at first that it was Lenny doing that.

"What ? No !" Lenny replied, half-joking. "I'm not Bill." He added, this time joking before realizing that Javier wasn't laughing, trying to figure out where that sound was coming.

"Must be near by." Javier looked around him until his eyes went on the woman he also witnessed to be shot but without binoculars, approaching her with curiosity but then, he fall back, scared after he put his ears near her. "My.....Dutch !" He shouted, asking for him.

"What's happening, Mr Escuella ?" Dutch demanded in an worried & serious tone, arriving at the scene, almost running.

"The woman....she's breathing !" Javier replied, his hand pointing towards the body of the woman for Dutch.

"You're kidding ?" Dutch thought that he was messing with him before he decided to verify his claims to be sure....and then, he realized that he was telling the truth : that woman with 3 gunshots wounds, one near her right kidney, one near her left lunge & the last one on her right shoulder....shots that were surely fatal...was still breathing despite the small pool of blood on the snow. "My god, the poor girl." He gasped, seeing that woman still alive.

"Hey, Dutch, found those plans you needed." The moment were interrupted by Micah Bell himself, holding in his hands some plans before he was trying to figure out what the fuck was happening by seeing Dutch, Lenny & Javier near an woman. "What are you looking at ?" He demanded, an bit annoyed as Dutch was taking the woman's body in his arms.

"That poor girl survived." Dutch responded, turning around to face Micah, holding her.

"Good and now, we can kill her, she's an O'Driscoll." Micah stated in an weirdly happy tone, wanting to draw his pistol but Arthur, who was coming out of the building he was now with Bill stepped in front of him.

"Ain't going to let you do that, Micah." Arthur defended, standing right between Micah & Dutch and it was looking like Micah was alone in this situation, despite the fact that this woman is an O'Driscoll...was.... "What are you planning, Dutch ?" Arthur asked to him.

"We're going to bring her with us, I will....take care of her with Hosea." Dutch responded, walking towards his horse that Lenny & Javier has all brought down with them during their descent on that camp during the attack. He then put her on his own horse before mounting on it. "Alright, let’s get outta here. I'm proud of you boys! All of you. Not a man down." He proclaimed as everyone was going back on their horses before leaving the camp.

They were able to get what they needed in here : dynamite for an future job and plans for an train attack, belonging to an certain Leviticus Cornwall and it was all good for Dutch but he was now also curious about the woman that they managed to find on that camp, he was trying to know how she was able to survive this long with 3 bullets in her in the middle of the snow. Everyone was very curious about it because they saw it happen too : Colm shot her in plain sight and she survived....this woman is kinda strange to say.

When the group come back to Colter without Arthur as he was charged to capture an lucky O'Driscoll guy that managed to flee the original attack, everyone in the camp was worried about seeing Dutch arriving with an wounded woman on his horse but instead of putting her with the others, he decided to....bring her inside the cabin that, Hosea & Arthur were using, stating that she needed peace to recover and that too much people around her can kill her.

Hosea, who was quite curious about this choice, resigned himself to agree to let Dutch install this woman in their cabin, taking the lead to heal her with the only tools he got to remove the bullets that was in her and luckly, he was able to save her life but she wasn't recovering, still unconscious and now on Dutch's bed. For him, he was seeing...something in her and that thought was taking over him during the rest of the day, still thinking of it when the night came, sitting peacefully in front of the chimney with Hosea.

"What are we going to do with her, Dutch ?" Hosea questioned him, breaking Dutch out of his thoughts as he was worried about that woman too but curious about what Dutch was thinking. "We can't let her like that here." He added before the front door of the cabin was opened, revealing Arthur.

"Dutch, Hosea." Arthur saluted them, entering the cabin as the two saluted him.

"Arthur, how are everyone ?" Dutch asked him, Arthur walking to one of the free chair in the room.

"Fine but they want to have news about the woman, they're worried." Arthur replied, sitting down on his chair and crossing his arms. "Like you said, I couldn't tell them that she was an O'Driscoll because of Mrs Adler's situation." He continued, remembering Dutch's advice before the group spot that O'Driscoll on the way back to Colter....guy that he was able to capture and now, kept by the others boys.

"You did good, Arthur, you did good." Dutch reassured them, his look on the fire of the chimney, thinking.

"So, Dutch, what are we doing with her ?" Hosea repeated his question to him, seeing him like that....that was strange.

"Like you said, we can't let her like that." Dutch responded, joining his hands together, peaking his eyes for an mini-second to look at the room where that woman was. "Colm would kill her if he saw her again and the Pinkertons....they could kill her too." He added, taking an breath. "No, we're taking her wih us but...." He stopped himself, trying to think about an problem. "I think that she isn't going to be pleasant with us."

"Really ? You saw what happened, right ?" Arthur scoffed, thinking that Dutch was joking, why would someone stay loyal to the person who shot you down. "You told us yourself : Colm doesn't give an damn about his men and also women."

"Maybe but there's exceptions." Dutch corrected him, raising his little finger towards Arthur. "She can still be loyal to him despite that and she can be useful to us." He stated, looking at Arthur. "Looking how though she is, interrogating her is an loss of time."

"And what are you exactly thinking her, Dutch ?" Hosea asked, now worried about what could possibly got out of Dutch's mouths after his statement.

"A while ago, I read an book about an secret experiment....something that we can try on her....mental manipulation." Dutch answered with an grin on his face, causing Hosea & Arthur eyes to go wide like that.

"What ?" Both literally protested in unison, shocked to hear that from Dutch.

"Dutch, that's crazy and almost inhuman." Arthur objected, even going up off his seat to face Dutch. "We can just let her wake up and tell her everything."

"No....we can't, Arthur." Dutch said in an clear voice, staying on his seat, thinking about that book he read....he wanted to try that and he knew that was going to be discussed in an bad way. "We don't know who she is and what she can do one she got up." He continued, defending his opinion on the subject as Hosea was quite disturbed. "You don't need to worry : I have an plan with her, keep some faith in you !" He exclaimed.

"Hosea, it's...what do you think ?" Arthur demanded, looking at Hosea that was still disturbed, looking down at his feets.

"I can't believe that I'm going to let this happen." Hosea muttered, resigning to debate with Dutch himself who has won the argument and now, if Hosea was resigning....Arthur was soon following because of Dutch's persistance to do so.

"All we need to do is to make everyone believe that the thing we're doing is for her good, that we're trying to save her." Dutch told the both of them before he decide to got up from his chair. "Keep some faith, I have an plan !" He insisted on that to the two before he decided to get out, going to get that book that was in his wagon.

That plan....it was surely crazy & inhuman but there were actually nothing that could have stop Dutch to execute it, he was going to do it, end of the story. That was fucked up but Dutch was ready to do anything because he has plans for that woman, she could help them with things and he wasn't going to let her in the hands of the Pinkerton or the O'Driscolls again. This was an big chance that was given to him.

He....he started his experiment on her the very night he proposed his plan to Arthur & Hosea who had to get along with it, everyone was going to get along with it, only Arthur, Hosea & Dutch knowing the real motives of that experiment. The others will probably thinking that this is only to help her to be better, purposely forgetting to mention an lot of details about the whole thing. It was Dutch in command here, he's only doing this to keep the morale up.

It was mostly Dutch that were making the experiment going to be true with Arthur & Hosea, often helping him along the way and he was doing that for almost 2 days straight, letting the storm going down and the others to survive while he was doing his job here. After these 2 longs days, he finally managed to succeed in his task, she was now 'changed' and now, the trio were now awaiting for her to wake up.

"So, how is she ?" Arthur asked after he came back inside the cabin after an hunting session with Charles in the forest, seeing Hosea & Dutch near the woman, still on Dutch's bed.

"Her condition is stable." Dutch replied, closing the book he has been using for two days now in his hands. "Now, we will be awaiting for us that she awake, how are the others feeling about it ?"

"You know it, Dutch." Hosea said, his hands behind his back, sounding an bit sad that he had to let his friend doing all of this. "They unfortunately thinking that what you're doing is good for her." He responded, looking at his friend. "This is going to be bad when she will find out." He added as an personal opinion.

"I'm thinking the same, Dutch." Arthur joined Hosea's thought about the situation but Dutch shook his head.

"Don't worry about this, I can make sure that she's not going to drift away." Dutch told them, reassuring them with an tap on each of their shoulders. "I have implanted something that will keep her in control." He continued before he looked back at the woman on the bed, seeing the bandages covering her chest.

"And now....I was thinking....what's her name ?" Arthur demanded in an curious voice. "We didn't find anything about her at all." He stated before Hosea look at him, raising his shoulders

"I'm guessing that Dutch is the one giving it to her." Hosea sighed, seeing Dutch thinking of an name about her with his hands below his chin before he approached the woman at the same level as her, having found the name for her....an name that is linked to something he saw in his book.....

"Bell !"

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Hi! Would it be possible to ask if you could write about Arthur? I was thinking about Arthur falling for a new member of the group who’s pretty dangerous and has a tough exterior, but eventually Arthur is able to get through and bring out the childish and playful side of her, falling for her tough side and her soft side? I hope that makes sense, thank you!!

Okay, I must admit, this one was hard for me to write because I just had a conversation with my therapist yesterday about some of the problems brought up in this piece. So heads up, this piece is pretty much my own way of processing this, is 100% self indulgent, and about 10,000% pure fluff! 

(I chose these pics because he is just too darn cute.) 

Word count: ~6.000

Warnings: extreme amounts of fluff, mentions of blood, childhood abuse, mentions of grief (I don’t know if any of these might actually be triggers, but in case they are...) 

You lower your gun, spitting on the man’s body, whom you just shot. His blood seeps into the grass. 

“Horrible man,” you hiss, glaring at his corpse and holstering your gun. You walk back to the wagon where Arthur and John are going through the boxes. John had gotten a tip about this wagon, owned by a popular goods manufacturer. These wagons are always a hit or miss as they sometimes carry expensive items, such as jewelry, paintings, cash and other times nothing but documents, clothes and worthless household items. It’s always easy to determine how valuable the items are judged by the toughness of the driver and his companion. 

For this wagon, the armed companion had been dealt with by John and Arthur, who’d given them quite a mouthful of insults. The driver was a different matter. He’d pretended to be harmless and quickly left the wagon, but when he saw you with the robbers, he went off, stating that no self-respecting criminals would let a girl do any of the hard work. John and Arthur just traded smug smiles and let you handle him. They knew exactly how easily you got fired up. The driver turned out to be too easy of a kill. 

You put your hands on the edge of the wagon. “Anything good?” you say. Arthur, who’s closest to you, sighs and straightens up. 

“Think this company’s gettin’ wise to low lifes like us. There’s hardly worth anything here.”

“Seriously?” you say, looking at the open chests. “But that companion was a hard ass.” 

“Like I said, think the company’s catching on. Way to go, Marston.” 

“How was I to know there wouldn’t be nothing here?” John snaps. “My guess was as good as yours on the value of the wagon.” 

As Arthur opens his mouth to retort, you interrupt. “How about we get the hell out of here before the law turns up? I doubt them gunshots went unheard.” 

The boys agree and they take the few items that are worth stealing, mostly cans of food and bottles of liquor. You unhitch the horses tied to the wagons and let them loose, which John scoffs at and Arthur raises a questioning brow. 

When the three of you return to Clemens Point, Arthur walks over to you as you’re grooming your horse. 

“Can I ask why you do that?” he says. 

“Do what?” 

“Well, I notice that every job with a wagon or a stage, you let the horses go. It ain’t like it’s hurtin’ ‘em bein’ tied up.” 

You pause. You glue your eyes to your horse’s neck when you finally speak. “If I was a horse and tied up like that and my driver died, I wouldn’t wanna be stuck like that until someone found me. I imagine they’d like being able to move around, graze, find some water.” 

This strikes Arthur. He’s seen firsthand how vicious and unforgiving you can be. Hell, there are times you’ve whipped out your gun and shot it before he could even pull his own out of its holster. Sure, he knows you love your horse more than just about anything. He never thought you could care about some horses whom you’ve no connection with.

“Well, I guess when you put it that way,” he says softly. “Maybe I’ll start doin’ it too.” 

You put your brush away. “I honestly don’t know if it helps or not, Arthur. I just imagine they appreciate it, in their own ways.” 

You walk away from him, heading for Pearson’s fire where he’s set out dinner. Your brusque response to Arthur was nothing new. He’s used to your short answers and even your cold manners. However, watching you unleash those horses has got him thinking: is there a soft side to you?

He’d never have thought that before. He’s seen you shoot men who begged on their knees for you to spare them, seen you rip the flesh from small animals after you’ve shot them without blinking an eye. Hell, you can run with the best in the gang. He remembers that bar fight in Valentine. Before he’d gotten tackled by that big fella Tommy he’d seen you pummeling some guy nearly twice your size, his nose bleeding and his eye purpling under your fist. He’d also seen you take your fair share of hits and knows you can hold yourself up after them too. He recalls a couple years ago, not very long after you joined, how one fella you were fighting with shot you in the leg. Despite the obvious pain, you’d gotten up, walked yourself to your horse and rode back to camp without a single complaint. 

He watches you dish up your plate, his mind reeling with the possible complexities of your character. You don’t notice and you wander off to go and eat at the round table. He comes and joins you at the table with his own plate, but doesn’t mind when you don’t start a conversation. Unlike the other women, you’re happy to sit in silence. In fact, you’re much like Charles in that if you don’t want to talk, you’re not going to. Arthur admires you secretly. You’re strong and unmovable, nothing seems to scare you. How many guns have you looked down and you didn’t bat an eye? 

When Arthur sees you’re done eating, he stands up and reaches for your tin to take it. His hand accidentally brushes your arm and you quickly snap it away, your hard eyes glaring at his hand. 

“Sorry,” he says. When you see he’s just taking your plate, you relax and thank him quietly. He has another thing about you to think on. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never seen you touching anyone, not even in a friendly or reassuring manner. Nor has he seen anyone successfully touch you. One time Sean, after making a joke about how frightening you were, he patted you on the shoulder and you immediately pulled away from him. 

When you’d come back to camp with that bullet in your leg, you didn’t make any sound of complaint until Susan and Tilly tried to get the bullet out. Arthur recalls how upset you’d gotten when they tried to touch your leg, and how almost feral you’d become when Karen tried to hold you down so the others could get the bullet out. Arthur knew it had nothing to do with the pain and more to do with that they were touching you. Sure, Arthur’s not used to being touched either, but he’s never known anyone to get upset about being touched. 

Arthur settles down in his cot for the night, his mind still turning with thoughts of you. Despite the years you’ve been running with the gang, he finds that he still hardly knows a thing about you. You’d run away from your family, fell in with a smaller gang that then got torn apart by the law, some were arrested, some were killed and you were one of the few to escape. That was when you fell in with this bunch. But Arthur realizes that other than that and that you’re capable with a gun and an expert horse rider, he doesn’t know a thing about you. 

*********************************

In the morning, Arthur has a plan on maybe learning about you. He’s always been a curious man and your secretive nature only makes him moreso. He looks around camp but doesn’t find you. Your horse is still tied up, and then he spots you on the pier, a fishing pole in hand. Perfect. 

He comes over, making sure you can hear his boots thumping on the old wood. He’s witnessed how dangerous it is for someone to sneak up on you. He takes out his own pole, feigning that he doesn’t have an ulterior motive for being here. 

“Any luck?” he asks. 

“A bit,” you respond, glancing at him. He could swear you smile a bit. 

After a short bout of silence, he rubs his neck nervously, his pole staying still in his other hand. “Hosea mentioned a possible lead in Emerald Ranch. Thought you and I should go take a look.” 

“What’s the job?” 

Crap, he didn’t think you’d ask this question. Most jobs you didn’t ask the nature on, you just went. “Said somethin’ about a train comin’ through, carryin’ some rich folk. I figure we could board at Emerald Station, and as it’s on its way south, we can… take care of the rest.” 

You continue staring out at the lake. “Sounds good. When’s it due?” 

“Couple of days. But maybe you and I could head out early. Pearson was sayin’ he’s gettin’ low on meat.” Another lie, but he hopes you won’t catch on. Besides, Pearson says there’s no such thing as too much meat. Not with how many mouths the gang has to feed right now. When you don’t respond, he goes on. “Heartlands are a great place to go huntin’. Lots of game. Plus, the view is beautiful.” 

“Sure,” you say, collapsing your pole. “We can go hunting. I could use some time away from this place.” 

He hides his smile and then follows you to the horses. You both mount up and head out. It doesn’t take long to reach Emerald Ranch. You both stop there to “scout” the station, though you’re still unaware that he’s lying. He must admit, he’s a little afraid of how you’ll react when you find out there most likely won’t be a train stuffed with rich folk. He knows you won’t kill him, but you’re already so closed off, it might just make you even moreso. 

You walk down the steps of the station, walking towards him as he stands near the horses. “Just talked to the clerk,” you say. “Says a train’s coming that’s heading south in about three days. We’ll have plenty of time to hu- oh, hey kitty.” 

You’re stopped in your tracks by a cat that’s winding its way around your legs. The scrawny tabby looks up at you and gives a cute “brrr”. Arthur watches as a rare smile stretches your face. You bend down and pet the cat, who just rubs over your legs even more in response. You pick it up and it starts rubbing its chin across your cheek. 

“Oh, you’re a sweet one, huh?” you say. Arthur’s never heard you sound so sweet. “Yeah, you’re pretty. Handsome boy like you, you’re a heartbreaker, huh?” 

After a moment, you put the cat down and it walks off, tail pointed straight up. You smile as you watch it walk away. When you look back at Arthur, you see him staring. 

“Sorry. Just… haven’t been able to cuddle a cat in a long time.” You mount up and walk your horse over to the plains of the Heartlands. Arthur watches you go, even more confused. Why is it that when he’s seen a person touch you, you’ve flinched and acted like there was physical pain to it, but when that cat touched you, you willingly accepted and even encouraged it? 

He follows you, his mind reeling even more. 

******************************

That night, you and Arthur make a campfire for the night, several pelts drying under the stars. You reach into your satchel and pull out a thick batch of raspberries to add to dinner as Arthur cooks some meat. He can tell you’re relaxed and content. Now is the best time for him to try and learn more about you. 

“Can I ask ya somethin’?” he says. 

“I suppose,” you say shortly, leaning against a rock. 

“How come you ran away from your family? Most of us who had a proper family left that life because they died.” 

Your hands shuffle a bit in your lap and you stare off into the fire. It takes you a few moments before you answer. “It was just… easier running away than… than staying, I guess.” He waits for you to continue but you don’t. He wishes you’d give more detail. The tone of your voice says you chose your words carefully. 

“You know you can trust me, right?” he says softly. 

You look up at him for a brief second and then look back to the fire. It’s true, you trust Arthur more than the others. Something about his presence has always had more of an impression on you than the others. You don’t respond, but your hands continue to fidget. He knows you’re not going to come out and say things, if he wants to find out more about you, he’s going to have to ask. 

“Why was it easier to run? Did your pa get busted for runnin’ an illegal business or somethin’?” 

You shake your head. “No. No, he ran a legitimate business. He was the sheriff’s deputy, actually. Well respected in our town.” 

“And?” Arthur says after you fall silent again. “And what?” 

“What was he like?” Arthur asks. 

“Why do you care?” you suddenly snap. You’ve never been comfortable with people wanting to know about your life. It’s an alien thing to you, for people to want to know. When you were a kid, people really didn’t like you much. They found you annoying and you tried too much to be like them in order to make friends. In school, the other kids were more than happy to shut you out. 

Your home life wasn’t much better. You were the youngest of four children to your family. Your brother was significantly older and he was a bully to you and your two sisters. Since you were the youngest though, he left you alone a decent amount of time. Your sisters were a different matter. They teased you a lot, and they used to chase you around the ranch with sharp objects because they knew it scared you. It also wasn’t unusual for them to hit you out of the blue. 

Then there were your parents. Your mother was nice, but she criticized you a lot. She didn’t like that you weren’t as social as other kids your age. When you told her it was because the other kids didn’t like you, her response was that you didn’t try enough. She made comments about how she thought you could make yourself look prettier, how you should wear dresses more often. She also held it over your head that you would be married one day, despite you having no interest in anyone in that way. When you admitted you never experienced romantic attraction towards anyone, she simply brushed it off and said “you just haven’t found the right one yet”. 

Your father was the worst of the lot. He never took any interest in you (or any of his kids for that matter). He seemed to hate you the most though. When he’d come home from work angry, he seemed to take it out on you, screaming at you, blaming any irritance he had on you. Perhaps it was because you were the youngest, but a feeling in your gut said that he hated you because he’d wanted another son when your mother was pregnant with you. There were times too he’d become physically violent with you. It didn’t help that whenever you became emotional, he’d get irrationally angry and tell you to go hide in your room, that no one wanted to see your tears. 

All those things combined into one shaped you to distrust people. You hated being touched because when you were a kid, the majority of the times you were touched caused physical pain. You also couldn’t relate your emotions to people and you had become detached from them over the years, to the point you found it extremely difficult to cry. 

You think back on these things as Arthur stares at you. He’d been taken back when you’d practically shouted at him. 

“I… I guess I’m just curious is all,” Arthur responds. 

“Well, don’t be,” you hiss, turning back to the fire. Arthur’s curiosity of you is making you extremely uncomfortable. Why should he be? No one else ever was. You sigh, trying to simmer down. “Sorry, Arthur. It’s just… it’s better for everyone if you don’t worry about me.” 

Arthur stares at you for a moment. He can tell that whatever is making you so closed off is causing you a lot of pain. He feels an urge to get close to you, to try and comfort you, but he knows that might just makes things worse. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess that’s just my problem. I worry about most people in camp, except Micah maybe.” He sees you chuckle a bit at this, which is an encouraging sign. “Point is, I am worried about ya, Y/N. I ain’t known anyone like you, and to be honest, I ain’t too sure it’s healthy.” 

You look up at him, your eyes wide. You want nothing more than to tell Arthur about everything, but there’s something preventing you from doing so. All you can think is that he’d find you weak and pathetic if he knew. It’s just better and easier to keep it all bottled up. 

You sigh heavily. You have a feeling he won’t stop asking about why you ditched your family until you gave him a reason. “I… I ran away because my family proved they weren’t worthy of being my family. I… I remember reading a book and a character said ‘family don’t end in blood’. I don’t know why, that just stuck with me. When I realized what it meant, I knew that my parents, my siblings… they weren’t my family. I’ve never had the luxury of having one.” 

You look down at your boots, your chest tightening. You know you’re close to getting choked up and crying, but you can’t do that. You can’t let Arthur see how weak you are. 

He finally looks away. “I’m real sorry about that, Y/N. Families are always complicated. And I’m sorry if you felt like I was pressurin’ ya. It’s just… how many years you been with us? I feel like I don’t know the first thing about ya.” 

You look up at him again. “Why would you want to, Arthur?” 

This question strikes him and he knows exactly why you’re so private. He feels a pang for you as he realizes that no one has ever shown any interest in you, that you’ve always been alone. He knows exactly what he has to do for you to open up. 

“Maybe because you’re worth knowin’,” he says. He sees your breath quicken. Are you scared? He goes on, wanting to make you feel comfortable. “Maybe because no one deserves to be alone their entire lives. I don’t know what happened to make you feel that way, and I ain’t askin’ you to tell me. But I just want ya to know that no matter what you think or feel, I’m here. I’ll listen. I ain’t gonna think less of ya.” 

He can tell you’re listening hard to everything he says, that he’s got your mind turning. 

You swallow, wanting to test his words. “I used to have a cat, you know. When I was a kid. He was a good boy. The best in fact. He… he chose me. We weren’t supposed to keep him, but when my ma saw how much he and I loved each other, she convinced my pa to keep him.” You smile as you recall the things he did, how he made you feel loved and how he made you laugh. You start to get choked up again when you get closer to telling Arthur the end. You don’t notice that he’s carefully scooting closer to you as you talk. 

“What happened to your cat?” Arthur asks softly. 

“He got old,” you say. “He was thirteen and one day, he jumped up into a tree and hurt his leg. After that, he just went downhill. He started limping a lot, and then he… he had a seizure out of the blue. He only lasted four days after that, and he was half paralyzed when he finally….” You find yourself unable to finish the story. Even after all these years, thinking about him still hurts as badly as it did the day he died. “All I can think is that at least I was there with him when he…” 

Arthur’s sitting only a foot from you now. He’s so close he must be able to see the tears in your eyes. You wish he wasn’t. It’s rare for you to have a moment of weakness like this, and it’s been an extremely long time since you had an audience. Pathetic doesn’t even come close to how you feel right now with him being a witness. He must think you’re laughable, weak, pitiful. You hate yourself for it. 

He surprises you when he speaks in an incredibly soft voice. “At least you gave him a good life, and you gave him the comfort of not dyin’ alone.” 

You sniff, a tear finally cascading down your cheek. You turn your head so he can’t see. He feels sorry for you; he’s never seen you this upset and he can tell you’re fighting extremely hard to keep yourself contained. He forgets for a moment about your touch aversion and he puts an arm behind you, trying to comfort you. 

Your response is instant. You immediately flinch and jump out of reach, your eyes wide and hard. He raises his hands up. “Easy, easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” 

You blink several times and then sit back down. “Sorry,” you say. “I just… I don’t like being touched.” 

“I know,” he says. “Can I ask why?” 

You swallow heavily. “I just don’t.” 

He sighs, knowing he won’t get any further. He’s okay with that though, you’ve already come a long way tonight. He starts humming a song Uncle often sings and it relaxes you. After a bit, the two of you crawl into your bedrolls for the night, but Arthur stays awake a long time. He thinks about the things you said. He can tell by your behavior you’re crying for help, but you just don’t know how to ask. He wonders how he can help you out, especially with your touch aversion. 

**************************

The next morning, you get up before he does. You had dreams of your cat and you feel ashamed for how you reacted the night before. Thoughts of how miserable you must have seemed to Arthur circle in your head and you can’t handle the guilt. You quickly grab your bow and head off to hunt, determined to take out your emotions in the thrill of stalking a deer or a rabbit. 

An hour passes before you return to camp, carrying a buck’s pelt, your satchel laden with rabbit furs and even a badger. You can see Arthur’s up and you sigh, trying to pull yourself together. His behavior from last night confuses you. The questions he was asking, the looks he gave you, how he tried to touch you. You have to wonder why. You can’t come up with an answer, so you resolve yourself to hiding it all again. 

As you throw the pelt over your horse’s back and start stuffing the smaller skins into the saddlebag, Arthur puts out the fire. 

“I wanted to ask ya somethin’,” he says quietly. 

You pause, scared he might ask something similar to the things he said last night. “Okay,” you say in a weak voice. 

“What do you feel when someone touches you?” he asks. “And I don’t mean physically. What do you feel?” 

You look up at him, your eyes wide again. You don’t know what it is about Arthur, but you find yourself wanting to be honest with him. “I… I don’t know.”

He clasps his hands in front of him and takes a few steps closer to you. “Do you feel afraid? Confused? Repulsed? Angry?” 

“No, just… confused and… worried, I guess.” You plant your back to your horse, crossing your arms over yourself. Arthur notices your defensive position. 

“Can you think of why you feel those things?” he asks. His voice is so soft you almost don’t hear it. 

You shake your head, truly not sure why you feel those things. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you… well, do you hate it?” 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Do you hate that you feel confused and worried?” 

You swallow again and lick your lips. “Yes,” you finally say. “I… I read somewhere that we’re wired to enjoy touch, but I just… I can’t.” 

He stands still for a moment. “Can I try somethin’?” he asks. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, and if it’s too much, we don’t have to go further.” 

“What is it?” you ask. Your heart’s racing in your chest and you feel the impulse to run. Arthur’s too close, he’s been staring at you too long. 

“Let me see your hand,” he says. He’s determined to voice every step he plans on taking, that way you don’t have to be afraid. When you don’t move, he thinks maybe you’ll deny him. Finally though, you unclench your hand from your shirt and hold it out for him. He can see you’re shaking. 

“I promise, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, and I ain’t gonna think you’re pathetic. Y/N, I just wanna help ya.” He slowly raises his hands and clasps them around yours. His hands are so warm, almost hot, and they’re rough from calluses. He can tell you’re resisting the desire to whip yours out of reach. He keeps his hands still around yours for a moment, and then one finger brushes the top of your finger, leaving a burning trail in its wake. Arthur keeps his eyes on your hands, allowing you to process this. 

After a few moments of him just gently tracing your hand, he speaks up. “Tell me what you feel. Not physically, what do you feel?” 

He can see you’ve settled down, your eyes are softer, your breathing lighter, but you’ve barely blinked since he started this. 

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I feel.... I don’t know.” And it’s true. You don’t know what you feel. You’ve no idea that right now, your brain is releasing oxytocins, making you feel good, but they’re clashing with your adrenaline. It makes for a very odd combination. 

“Does it feel good?” he asks. 

You give him a tense nod and he smiles. “Yeah, I know it does. Touch doesn’t have to mean pain. It’s okay to be touched, and it’s okay to want touch.” 

He lets go of your hand and takes a step back. He decides the best thing to do is to leave you alone so you can process it all; he could tell from the look on your face you need time to think about all this. 

When his back’s to you, you flex your hand. It feels much colder without his around it anymore and your skin tingles from where he rubbed your skin. You feel confused again, but for different reasons than before. You used to feel confused because you couldn’t understand why someone would want to touch you, but now you’re confused because it did feel good. It felt comforting, reassuring. Even more confusing is that you want him to do it again. 

Arthur looks back and sees you haven’t moved an inch. You’re still looking at your hand like you’ve never seen it before. He chuckles softly and mounts his horse. Despite that it’s obvious he’s caused you to have a miniature identity crisis, he finds your signs encouraging. He’ll give you a break, and then maybe later, he’ll try going further. 

It’s only when he’s gone off hunting that you come back to yourself. However, the memory of him just touching your hand causes distraction. You’re not as focused as usual, you miss a lot more often when you manage to find an animal to stalk. At one point, you sit down and try rubbing your own hand, trying to recreate what he did, but it doesn’t work of course. You end up sitting a long time, feeling perplexed about the whole thing. 

Arthur meanwhile finds it sad. He wonders if you’ve ever really felt someone touch you in a positive way. He’s no doubt that your family hurt you and not just physically. The fact that you struggled and even fought with yourself last night to control your emotions screams that somewhere in your life, you were taught to completely bury yourself as a form of protection. Arthur is a private man, he knows how hard it is to open up sometimes. But there are still people he knows he can talk to about his own feelings. John, Hosea, Mary-Beth, he knows he can talk to them. But you don’t seem to be able to do it with anyone. He sighs, knowing there’s a very long road ahead with you, but he’s willing to go down it. You deserve to be helped.

*********************************

That night, when camp is set up again, Arthur sits close to you. He finds it encouraging when you let him. He notices you keep positioning your hand in such a way that if he wanted to take it, he could. Not only that, you keep rubbing it. He definitely gave you a lot to think about. 

“So how you feelin’?” he asks after you’ve both eaten. 

You look over at him. Your eyes say you’re still a little lost. “I’m alright.” 

He smiles and pats your shoulder, only this time, you don’t flinch. “Good. Maybe you can make some progress.” 

He gets up and walks over to his horse, reaching into the saddlebag and pulling out a bottle of rum. He turns around and almost runs into you. 

“What are ya doin’?” he asks. It’s obvious you followed him. 

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. You want to ask him to touch you again, but maybe go further. However, there’s some kind of block that prevents you from doing so. He smiles. 

“You want me to help you again like I did this morning?” he asks. 

Your eyes widen even more. He can see how tiny your pupils are, despite the darkness. You’re nervous again, but he sees your head tip in the tiniest nod. He sets down the bottle slowly. 

“Okay, but I’m gonna go a bit further this time. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” 

“I know,” you say. 

Spurred on by this, he holds his arms out a little and he takes small, slow steps closer to you. Slowly, he wraps them around you, enveloping you in a hug. You tense up until you hear his voice. 

“It’s okay. Not gonna hurt ya, not gonna think badly of ya. Don’t think about what I think. Think about how this feels, okay?” 

He can see how tense your jaw is, you’re clenching your shoulders and your breathing in short, quick bursts. He holds you gently, but he notices you’re not reacting. He lets you go, thinking maybe he moved to this point too quickly. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says. “Probably frightened ya.” 

“What…” you start in such a quiet voice he almost doesn’t hear. “What do I do? When you do that.” 

It’s his turn to be confused and then it hits him. You don’t know how to reciprocate touch. 

“It’s easy,” he says. He slowly grabs your hands and stretches your arms in front of you, folding them around his waist. “Just do this, then I put my hands here.” He places his hands on your back. “You can lay your head on me if you want,” he says when he notices how stiffly you’re holding your neck, staring up past his shoulder. 

“You’re not… you’re not gonna be upset?” you ask quietly. 

He knows if he voices how shocked he is by this question you’re going to retreat, so he holds it in. “No, Y/N. I ain’t. You just do whatever feels good, okay?” 

You stand stiff in his arms for a few seconds, your hands clenched to the back of his shirt. Then finally, you lower your head and press your cheek to his chest. You can hear his heart beating, slow and steady, opposite of yours. His hand rubs slowly up your back, flooding you with a soothing sensation. You feel yourself suddenly relaxing in his arms, your stomach and chest loosen up, you slowly let your shoulders down and you press your face into his chest. As you relax, you’re able to wrap your arms further around him. His body’s firm and he’s warm, God he is warm. He shifts a bit and then you feel his cheek press down on your head. 

A swarm of emotions suddenly slams into your chest. You’ve never felt like this before, so comfortable and protected. You can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. You suddenly realize how lonely you’ve been all these years, and how much you’ve secretly craved something like this. Your chest tightens again and before you can stop yourself, you’re suddenly crying into Arthur’s shirt. You wait for him to pull away, to be disgusted by you, but he doesn’t. His arms tighten further around you, one hand comes up and cradles your head to his chest. 

Perhaps you imagine it while what feels like every pent up emotion escapes from your body, but you swear you feel Arthur’s lips on your forehead as you sob. Maybe you just wish you felt him do that, it’s not entirely clear if it really happened. 

When you’ve finally lost the ability to cry anymore (your body just can’t seem to produce another tear), you pull away slightly to see the mess you’ve made on Arthur’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, wiping your eyes dry. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says gently, his arms still around you. He suddenly smiles. “I never knew someone so tough could be so-” 

“Pathetic?” you say. 

He tilts his head to the side a bit. “Passionate. You got a lot of feelin’s swirling around in ya, I bet ya didn’t even know about some of ‘em.” 

You blush and look down at his shirt again. 

“Point is,” he continues, “it’s okay to feel them, to let yourself feel. It ain’t healthy and it ain’t weak to let yourself be vulnerable once in a while. You’ll find that you’re able to stand stronger when ya do.” 

Your hands clench his shirt a bit. This isn’t right. Arthur shouldn’t be comforting you, the two of you should be settling down to sleep right now. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you say, your voice squeaking. 

He lets out a long sigh. “Because you deserve it, Y/N. Because it ain’t fair to you for everyone to expect you to always be strong and stoic. You deserve to be allowed to be vulnerable. I don’t know who taught you that showing it when you’re upset is a bad thing, but it ain’t.” 

One of his hands comes up and brushes your cheek, wiping it dry. You feel yourself trusting him and get a sudden desire to spill all your secrets to this man. You can’t look away from his lips either. How strange it is that Arthur Morgan, the toughest man you’ve ever met, with a temper so easily flared, is teaching you the importance of being weak every once in a while? 

You press your face back into his chest, your forehead settling against his neck. His arms tighten around you again, his right hand settled between your shoulder blades. You relax even more, to the point you acknowledge his scent. Leather, tobacco leaves, gunpowder and sage. God, he smells good. 

You don’t know how long you stay in his arms, but you’re so comfortable and feel so safe you feel your eyes drooping. He must be able to tell too, because he pats your shoulder. 

“Let’s get some sleep, hmm? I know you’re exhausted.” 

You nod. You surprise even yourself when you move your bedroll next to his, but then feel worried that you might be encroaching on his personal space too much. You look up at him and he smiles. 

“You can sleep next to me if ya want. I don’t mind.” 

For the first time, you smile back at him. When he’s settled in his roll, lying on his back, you curl up against him, your head settling on his chest. Arthur brushes your hair, his fingers trailing down your back. His other hand settles over yours, which rests on his stomach. 

After a while, you look up at him. “Arthur?” 

“Hmm?” His eyes find yours. 

“Thank you. I know I… I still have a long road to recovery, but thank you. I wouldn’t have known how much help I needed unless you showed me.” 

He smiles and then his lips press against your forehead. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”

You settle down back onto him, his heat seeping up into you. When you were young, you imagined doing this with a man you love, but never once did you think it could feel this good. Then it hits you. You love Arthur. There’s no denying it. You wouldn’t have let him even hold your hand if you didn’t. The thought both scares and intrigues you, but you have a prodding in your gut that says he must feel something too. As you lie in his arms, you wonder where he might take you tomorrow. 

[old-mornings-dusk]

A Moment Alone

Rating: Explicit // +18  Relationship: John Marston/Arthur Morgan (Morston) Tags: Dom/sub, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Fluff and Smut, Explicit Consent, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Abigail is with Sadie okay??, Not Beta Read, Established Relationship, Fantasizing  Word Count: 3103

Summary: They agreed to meet at a shack in the forest, but John was late. And it's been a long time...(ngl it's just smut with fluff at the end)

Also on AO3 // One-shot under the cut!

Arthur surely had a lot of patience, but he couldn’t deny he was running out of it. How much time has passed since he arrived at the shack? John was late. He hoped the man was not in trouble again. It had been a long time since they last met privately like that, so he was very excited and eager for what was going to happen.

He sat on the bed and rested his arms on his thighs, bringing his hands together and rolling his thumbs.

He was getting worried. Should he go out and look for him?

Then he heard sounds outside the shack and looked through the open door, just to see John hitching Old Boy over there and then quickly walking towards the entrance. Thank God.

“I know I’m late, sorry ‘bout that. I’ll explain it later”, he told Arthur when he walked past the door, slamming it close behind him.

Arthur stood up immediately, a happy little smile showing up and welcoming hands slightly open for an embrace, and in the next second John got both hands on his face.

He tried to say he was glad he came, but was stopped by a very audible smooch on his lips, followed by a lick and open-mouthed kisses that kept going further down his neck. Arthur let out a deep sigh, one hand on John’s waist and the other on his shoulder, embracing him, and spoke with a grin:

“I know it’s been a while but I didn’t think ya would forget how to kiss properly.”

John stopped for a brief moment, just to look at Arthur and answer with a little hint of laughter on his voice:

“Oh so you want my kisses now, huh?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. You were tasting like blood last time , he wanted to answer, but instead he grabbed John by his waist with both hands and walked some steps, guiding him to the wall very next to the bed, pinned him there and said with a very deep voice that made John shiver with lust:

“Do I have to teach you again?”

The younger man smirked, didn’t even notice his own “I wouldn’t mind,” equally deep and full of desire and love.

That was enough for Arthur to jump on him, eagerly finding a way into his mouth. John groaned when his head hit the wall with a thud, adding more to Arthur’s excitement.

They needed this. It was quite a long time.

“Wanna do something different today”, John managed to say between wet kisses and deep breathes.

Then he grabbed Arthur by the waist and quickly turned him around, putting his back against the wooden wall. Of course he continued the interrupted kiss.

Arthur’s hands landed on John’s buttocks, grabbing and squeezing and trying to bring him closer. Every time he breathed out, he let a low noise come off his throat.

Arthur nearly hissed when John shoved a leg between his own. So little touches and he was already too hard. The younger had his mouth on Arthur’s neck again, his hands attempting to open the buttons from his blue shirt. At this point their hats were already laying on the ground.

“Hmm, what’s on your mind I wonder”, Arthur teased.

“You’ll see.”

John pushed him hard towards the bed after finishing with the buttons, the man dropped on his back, gasping in surprise. He positioned himself properly while watching John undress quickly in front of him, never breaking eye contact. His mouth slightly open admiring the view.

“Mind doing the same for me?”, John asked and Arthur smirked, nodding. He added:

“Please keep the shirt on.”

“Sure,” the older answered, slightly confused, but curious.

Arthur’s mouth watered when John took off his union suit, being completely exposed. He was a beautiful man, he thought, skinny but with some muscles and a lot of scars. Lots of thin hair, too. Not to mention the hard meat between his legs. But Arthur had an unorthodox thing for scars. He loved how rough and mean they made a man look, especially on the face. And he also loved the irony that scars could also mean someone was lucky to not die because of their stupidity.

Because John undressed first, he helped Arthur get rid of his remaining pieces of clothing. He didn’t wear anything under the pants and in a moment he was equally exposed, except he was still wearing the open shirt.

“I don’t see how this is much different”, Arthur said, remembering what John told him before. John, reaching out to Arthur’s neckerchief somewhere between the rest of his clothes, answered:

“That’s where this comes in.”

He waved the piece of clothing in front of Arthur. The man imagined he wanted to use it as a blindfold or gag, his cock twitching and his face warming at the thought. But what John said next made him open his eyes wide.

“May I tie your wrists to the bed?”

“Oh, yes.”

The answer came immediately. Arthur never did something like that, but he thought about that many times. He might be a little submissive if you squint. Arthur felt his face tingle with excitement and a bit of embarrassment when John tied his wrists together and then to the headboard, just a little above his head.

Moving his arms to test how restricted he was, Arthur sucked his lower lip. What he said next might have or might have not meant to be spoken out loud:

“You really make a man imagine things, Marston.”

John’s smirk widened and he positioned himself on top of Arthur, sitting on his thighs. He placed both hands on the other’s pecs, massaging slowly.

“What are you fantasizing about, then?”

Arthur sighed deeply. That was too good. And they barely had started. John’s hard cock pressing against his own made Arthur involuntarily move his hips, earning a sharp breath from the other.

He actually thought of something he’d like to do with John, but he was afraid of what the other might think about it. As if reading his mind, John told him:

“Come on, tell me. Promise I won’t judge”, and his hands were now on Arthur’s nipples, playing with them very slowly and softly. It felt amazing, but not enough. Deep moans started to build on his throat, released when John started to grind slowly against Arthur’s erection.

“If you don’t tell me, you won’t earn anything more than this”, John told him with a lazy tone, running his thumb around Arthur’s nipples even slower.

“Mm okay… Okay… There’s a scenario… You’re a-ah! -bounty hunter”, the older man finally started, wanting more touches.

“I think I like this. Tell me more” John answered with a twitched smile, then rewarded him by lowering his head and giving the right nipple a caress with his tongue. He also repositioned himself so he was lying on Arthur, with his mouth now kissing the other nipple. Arthur closed his eyes to try to concentrate on what to say, overwhelmed by the new form of pleasure he was receiving.

“Oh God… Y-you find me and… hogtie me… Damn!” he whined while John proceeded to suck and bite lightly one nipple and pinching the other. His cock began to ache at how hard he was. Arthur felt the slick of John’s pre-cum on his thigh and moved his leg gently to rub on John’s prick. The other started to rub slowly against him with a breathen moan.

“John, please…”

“Don’t stop, Morgan”, he commanded. Arthur sighed and felt his cheeks burn with his next thought. He opened his eyes but avoided eye contact.

“Then I say… I say I’ll do anything for you if you let me go, so y-ah”, he couldn’t restrain a little moan when he finally felt John’s hand around his cock, moving slowly but with a firm grip. Arthur knew he had to keep talking if he wanted more.

“…so you… Umm… Use me…”

John licked his lips and positioned himself even lower on the bed, so he could spread Arthur’s legs a bit. Arthur observed eagerly while John picked up a small bottle from his jacket’s pocket and held it on his left hand, coming back down to Arthur’s cock and holding it with the other hand, and he licked the tip with a very obscene face, receiving a long, deep whine. Then John said:

“You’ll need to explain better” and licked again, this time from base to top, curling his tongue around the tip. Arthur closed his eyes again. It was so damn good but he needed even more. He bit his lip and then continued explaining his fantasy:

“You fuck me real hard…”

John hummed while sucking the tip, his tongue rolling around it, tasting the pre-cum. Arthur felt a cold shivering that went through all his body, and started to feel desperate. Then he abandoned all of the remaining embarrassment when John put it all inside his mouth, hot and wet, and Arthur continued speaking moving his hips:

“A-and then you spank me like…like you’re teaching me a lesson– Oh fuck!” the older nearly screamed when he felt a slicky finger slip inside him. How had he not noticed when John opened the bottle, he wondered, but that thought expired quickly, because damn had he enjoyed the sudden feeling! It hurt a bit since he clenched in surprise, but Arthur didn’t take too long to relax and feel it even better, with the help of John’s wet mouth around his cock. John let go of Arthur for a second to reply:

“Didn’t know you were into this kinda’ stuff”, a twitched smirk again. John was enjoying this so much he was leaving a wet spot on the bed. And he added a second finger on Arthur’s tight hole, enhancing the pleasure of the green-eyed outlaw.

“Do I bite you? Leave marks on your neck?”, John teased. He was genuinely curious at how much Arthur was willing to let him do.

“Hah, yes”, now Arthur was locking eyes with John, as if begging “ask me more” with a look. And John really did.

“Do I grab your hair and tug it hard?”, this question was followed by an increase in the speed of the fingers moving in and out Arthur.

“Fuck, yes…!”

At this point Arthur was panting and moaning at each breath. He loved how John quickly understood what he wanted him to do and was asking just the right questions.

“Do I slap your face so you might learn to be a good boy?”, this time John crawled up on the bed and put his mouth very near to Arthur’s left ear. He made sure his voice was low and deep when he asked that. And the only thing Arthur could do was whine.

“Goddamn yes!”

He tried to keep eye contact, but John curled his fingers inside him rubbing that sweet spot, so his eyes squinted and rolled to the back of his skull. Arthur couldn’t stop the high-pitched sound he made, instinctively trying to cover his mouth with a hand and tugging at the piece of cloth.John starred with hungry eyes and repeated the movement, making Arthur squirm under him. It took very much of him to not come right there. Then he removed the fingers, receiving a long sigh in response.

“You wanna know why I was late?” John asked. Arthur couldn’t look more confused. Why bring this up right now? John understood the clueless face and continued while he opened the bottle again, pouring more of it’s liquid on his hand.

“I was preparing myself nicely for you. Look,” he said while repositioning himself, legs on both of Arthur’s sides and left hand on the headboard balancing him. And then John inserted two fingers on himself easily, moving them. Arthur’s eyes were wide, his jaw dropped, his cock harder than ever. John made little guttural sounds at his self pleasure.

“Holy…!” The word came involuntarily out of Arthur’s mouth, making John grin with pride. He loved how Arthur was slowly coming undone thanks to him.

“You want to be inside me?”, the younger asked with a naughty smile. Arthur couldn’t deny.

“Yes, please.”

John took his fingers off, now gripping Arthur’s cock and slowly sliding it inside. He gritted his teeth and hissed when the head was completely in. It didn’t hurt, but was always a weird feeling.

“Don’t move.”

Arthur admired in awe. Eyes moving from John’s face to his entrance, lips pressed together trying to control himself from thrusting up. God, John was amazing in every means, his hole so tight, warm and slick, Arthur was getting close. And then he felt John release all his weight over his hips, sitting on him, Arthur’s cock deep inside him. And John didn’t let a single moan come out loud, only a breathy sigh. He bit his lower lip and smirked, again, while Arthur panted and groaned.

“Heh, you look like you’re the one being fucked, Morgan.”

“Hn, son of a…b-bitch.”

“You can’t even say something without stuttering!” John provoked and rolled his hips, feeling Arthur deep inside him. He kept moving like that, rhythmically and slowly, his both hands on Arthur’s chest, thumbs caressing his nipples again.

“That’s… not… true!” Arthur managed to say a word each time he breathed out. John giggled and moved his hips back, slowly, until only the tip was inside him and then quickly moved forward.

God, that felt like heaven, for both men. John finally sounded as loud as Arthur, feeling it hit right there , and the older jolted his hip upwards, desperate for release. John repeated the quick movement again and again, letting out delicious moans of pleasure as he encouraged Arthur to thrust into him and started to work on his own cock too. And Arthur felt like he couldn’t last any longer. The warm, tight pressure around his erection was too much, John riding him eagerly, his face of pure delight, the sounds he was making, he loved it. He loved him.

He wanted to touch him, but the article of cloth that tied him to the headboard was making it impossible. He tried to warn John, but could barely formulate his sentences.

“John I’m c- ...damn, y-you’re so… Oh fuck! John!”

But John understood him and increased his efforts, willing for his own orgasm too, and Arthur came with a loud groan, trembling, John riding him through each release, feeling his lover’s seed filling him two, three times and not stopping. Quite the opposite, he moved his hips up and down frantically, his hand following the rhythm, wanting to come as quick as possible before Arthur couldn’t bear with oversensitivity.

Arthur’s mind was blank. He couldn’t think, just feel. And he felt amazing, even if it was a little too much. His cock was still hard and slick with come, John’s hole engulfed him completely and it started to hurt. But he couldn’t ask him to stop, all that came out of his mouth was moans and grunts, not an understandable word.

And then John came all over Arthur’s belly and chest with a genuine cry, sitting still on him and feeling the other so deep inside him, in the right angle, and he milked himself to the last drop, his ass clenching tight around Arthur. It was when the older felt it was too much and started squirming desperately below him, trying to free his cock. And we know how strong Arthur is.

Right when John started to get up, Arthur broke the wooden headboard. And this startled both, much that John jumped and fell off the bed.

Arthur stayed motionless for a couple seconds until he figured out what happened. The broken piece of wood was swinging right in front of his face, tied by Arthur’s neckerchief. He looked at it, sitting up, and then at John when he heard him:

“...ouch.”

He was sprawled on the floor, looking at the ceiling. Thankfully it didn’t hurt at all, and he started to laugh at the situation, so that Arthur was relieved.

“Are you okay?” He asked with a hint of laughter, knowing it was nothing serious.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Better than ever.”

Arthur smiled and blushed a little, as John wasn’t being ironic. He too didn’t feel this good since once when they fucked in the fanciest hotel room they’d been, where they had plenty of time and thick walls allowing them to be as loud as they wanted to.

“Here, let me untie this for you.”

John stood up and took Arthur’s hands on his, carefully undoing the knot to not damage the neckerchief, and freeing Arthur (and the broken piece of wood), who breathed a sigh of relief. John was badly surprised at how red Arthur's wrists were.

“...my God, Arthur, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

He sat at the edge of the bed bending his leg, and instinctively brought one of Arthur’s wrists next to his own face and kissed the skin very softly.

“Does it hurt much?”

Arthur smiled at the sweet gesture. He hadn't paid attention to the pain in his wrists until now, but it wasn’t unbearable. He certainly pulled too hard on it, it wasn’t exactly John’s fault.

“No, not really… It’s okay. Come here,” he said, caressing John’s face with that hand and moving forward to kiss him. Their lips met in a soft, caring kiss that warmed them with love. John moved himself to a better position, legs beside Arthur’s own, making the older lie down again on the bed, not ever breaking their kiss. Then Arthur opened his mouth to lick his way inside John’s, resting his hands on the other’s neck. After a moment, John started kissing Arthur’s jaw and cheek, who took the opportunity to make a comment:

“You taste like dick.”

“Shut up, it’s your dick!” John answered humorously with a wide smile making them laugh, and they locked eyes for a while, lost in each other’s sight, savoring the rare sweet moment. Oh, how Arthur loved those big softened grey eyes, not the usual frown John always had at camp…

“I love you…”

Did… did he really say it? Did he think too loud?

Maybe he did, because John’s smile grew even wider as he rested his forehead on Arthur’s.

“I love you too… even if you think my kisses taste bad!”

“Okay, but I still like them,” and then they kissed again, softer, smoother and better than any kiss they’ve ever experienced.

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

Sooo I kicked off something that I’ve never written before haha I hope it’s okay!

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Tagging @strwxberrymilk @porkchop-ao3 @arthursgirl @angelsjudge and @scy77a but if you’d like to stop being tagged just let me know! :) Also if anyone else would like to be tagged just say the word xx

Pairing: Slow burn Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, comments alluding to abuse, sexual themes and a racial slur.

Chapter 15

“So as far as first shootout’s go, I’d say it went pretty well.” I declare to Arthur through gritted teeth.

“Yeaah went real well. Despite the fact yer now have’a new hole in yer leg.” Arthur replies without a modicum of humour.

“I can NOT believe you let this young lady run into a firefight, Mr Morgan. I expected this from the likes of Mr Bell but not you!” Miss Grimshaw chimes in while she wraps up my left thigh. The bullet was a through and through so I managed to avoid any sort of “surgery” and the slug was of a small caliber, so really, all in all, it could’ve been so much worse.

“I’m fine Sus-AN”I yelp after one very firm tug of the bandage, “Was that necessary!?”

Miss Grimshaw doesn’t answer me but gathers her supplies and with one last stern look, storms from the tent shaking her head and muttering under her breath.

Arthur laughs and shakes his head.

I maneuver my leg so it’s a bit more comfortable on my cot and Arthur sits on a crate next to me.

“You’re covered in blood by the way.” I state as I start to feel the effects of the whiskey coursing through my veins.

He huffs at me and replies, “Yea, well that happn’s when yer lugging people about with blood comin’ outta them.”

And then in my hazy state I remember.

“Lenny’ll be okay right?” I ask in a whisper.

“Ooh yeaa I was only jokin’ sweetheart. His wounds’a no worse than yers, just happens ta be in his shootin’ arm. He’ll live.” Arthur reassures with a hand on my cheek, “Now you sleep.”

“Tell everyone I owe them a drink okay?” I say back, feeling my eyes start to drop closed, “I did good dn’t I Art?” I slur.

All I register before I fall asleep is Arthur quietly chuckling and kissing my forehead.

We storm the ranch, guns blazing.

The rush running through me is unreal.

I’ve never been in a shootout and you know what, it’s not something I fancy doing again.

“Stay behind me.” Arthur growls as we push forward. There aren’t a lot of men but they appear to be well stocked with weapons, so we’re all planted in one spot pretty quickly. I’m with Arthur and Charles while the others are spread out alone.

From not too far away, as I duck down after firing a shot, I can see Micah smirking at me from behind a wagon. He winks at me and I find his ability to remain jovial at a time like this almost impressive.

The sound of a soft voice saying “Knock knock” jerks me awake.

“Hey, can I come in?” Sadie asks from tent entrance.

I struggle to sit up and rub at my eyes while saying “sure”. She comes in and takes Arthur’s spot on the crate next to my cot. It takes me a second to register where I am. Drinking half a bottle of whiskey in one go will do that to you. Even if it’s starting to wear off.

“You ‘kay?” she asks me quietly and it’s then I register the dull ache in my leg. Not too painful yet, but a horrible promise of what’s to come.

“Not bad….you alright?” I can see that she’s changed from her previous clothes and her hairs wet. She must’ve gotten blood on her as well. Either from me or Lenny.

“Oh, you know me.” Sadie replies but she seems a bit distant.

“Sadie. What’s wrong?” I ask quietly. Sadie looks at me but avoids direct eye-contact until I reach out for her arm asking a silent, “What’s wrong?”

“You know I ain’t good with feelin’s since Jakey….I….I’ve tried ta shut ‘em off as it were.” Sadie starts and I can see unshed tears in her eyes, “But I wan’ed ta say that….I wan’ed to tell ya….that I’m proud. Of you. Very proud.”

Suddenly the emotions of the night, along with the ache in my thigh, come crashing down upon me and my own unshed tears start to fall.

There’s a break in the gunfire and everyone takes the opportunity to rush forward towards the house. I see Micah bashing some guy in the face while Sadie uses her knife to slit another guys throat.

I’ve not sure I’ve ever seen something so brutal. But really what did I expect? I just need to remind myself that these “men” deserve everything they get.

“I want at least one Arthur” I say loudly to him as Charles breaks off from the two of us. We’re crouching and shuffling forward quickly, trying to stay out of anyone’s line of sight.

Then all of a sudden, we hear it. A scream and John’s shout.

“LENNY’S HIT!” he yells over to us.

“GET’IM OUTTA HERE MARSTON!” Arthur shouts back and as I look forward, I see the smoke and barrel of a gun pointing out of an upstairs window.

A barrel that now points at my brother.

“ARTHUR” I scream to gain his attention and then aim my gun. I pull the trigger and after a few seconds, a man comes tumbling down to splat onto the ground in front of us.

Arthur clears his throat and looks back at me smirking, “Well….I’d say ya got one.”

“Well if that weren’t just the sexiest thing.” Micah shouts over to us, causing every other man around to snarl. However, they have no time to dwell on him because soon guns start firing again.

“Sadie” I murmur while holding her hand with my spare one, “I didn’t even really do anything. I got one guy.” I laugh, trying to ease the tension, but Sadie shakes her head.

“That’s not….you got us there….imagine if you hadn’t….” She says quietly squeezing my hand. All I can manage is a nod.

After what feels like forever the guns stop and the sick bastards are dead.

My gang start looting bodies and rifling through draws and cupboards while I look around….and maybe kick the odd body now and then. The place is disgusting. Absolutely vile.

I walk through the open plan kitchen/livingroom but trip after I stand on a particularly springy floorboard (that my feet weren’t expecting) that’s covered by an old faded rug. Annoyingly I trip straight into Micah’s arms who revels in my clumsiness. As usual.

“Woah now Miss. This ain’t the time ta be gettin’ frisky…..I mean we can but big brother over there might take some offence.” He drawls into my ear playfully and I push him back, knowing he’s just trying to get a rise out of Arthur.

I start to move the rug and mumble under my breath so he can hear, “Why couldn’t it have been Charles.”, causing Micah to fake his hurt in an over reacted clench of his heart.

“You wound me.” He gasps and despite myself, I laugh.

“Help me with this will you?” I ask and he makes a snide remark about “getting Charles to help” but ultimately relents when seeing my unamused face.

We pull back the rug to reveal a trap door.

“Looky looky” Micah whistles to himself and tugs up the heavy wood, which opens to a basement.

“Okay you wait here.” I say while I take a step forward but Micah puts his hand out in front of me.

“I don’t think so Missy. You won’t see a damn thing down there.” He scoffs and I motion to a lamp that’s been, luckily, undisturbed by the gunfire.

“Hand me that then.” I ask and he rolls his eyes, but does as I ask.

“Just don’t break a nail or nuthin’” he scoffs to himself and I just flip him off.

I slowly make my way down into the basemen and when I touch the floor I yell,

“Micah!! Get my brothers!”

Sadie squeezes my hand before kissing it.

“You did good. Be proud. We are.” She says quietly to me and I smile. I really smile.

“Thank you, Sadie.” I whisper through my emotional haze and she gets up slowly, making her way to the entrance of the tent. She stops before she exits and looks at me for a moment.

“Look. When you’re ready. Come see me okay? We’ll talk.”

I nod, knowing exactly what she means. Arthur did want me to talk to someone.

After Sadie leaves, I settle back down onto the cot and close my eyes. Willing myself to sleep away the increasing pain in my thigh.

When I descend the final step, I shine the lantern around as the smell from the basement makes me gag. What I see makes me cry out for Micah.

“Micah!! Get my brothers!” I yell and watch as the three young girls in front of me cower away on the furthest wall, “Fucking hell.” I whisper to myself and move to approach them.

“You’re okay. You’re safe now.” I try telling them but they huddle impossibly closer together and push themselves further back onto the wall. I think for a second that I should yell for Sadie. My gut reaction was my brothers but that’s just out of habit. I think this will need a woman’s help.

However, before I can yell for anyone else, I feel the cold, hard barrel of a gun pressed behind my head.

“You killed my men” comes a revolting voice behind me.

“Technically, I only killed one…” I reply but completely shut up once the barrel pushes painfully into my temple, “….okay so not the time for being a smartass, got it.”

“Emmy?” Arthur yells down into the basement but stops his movement at the hatch once he catches sight of the gun against my head.

“Yeah, I’m here….and um, I’ve made a friend.” I joke humourlessly as the man guides me up the basement stairs. Once we’re at the top I see that Arthur and John have brought Lenny inside as the others look around. He’s sat on a shot up sofa while my brother’s stand with their hands up and away from their guns.

“Just shoot him!” I shout at them. I’ll be damned if one of these assholes get away.

“Emmy, shut the fuck up.” John growls quietly and the little sister in me wants to hit him so bad. But the gun to my head keeps me firmly in place.

“Now this’s how it’s gonna go down. Imma get to one’ve ma horses with ya little lady here. We’re gonna ride off and once I know ya ain’t followin’, I’ll letta go. ‘kay?” the man snarls and from his breath alone I can tell he’s vermin.

Everyone takes a breath and you just know they’re waiting for Arthur.

“Now, that ain’t gonna happen friend.” He says sternly while keeping his hands away from his holster.

Suddenly the door blasts open and Micah, along with Sadie and Charles come barging in asking what’s taking so long. They instantly freeze and for once I see pure confusion on his face. He also looks at Arthur for the solution. Even if he’d never admit it.

“Who���s dumb idea was this anyway?” I hiss rhetorically but Micah just has to answers.

“Yours” he replies and even though I have a gun to my head, I roll my eyes, “Yes thank you Micah.”

Micah shrugs and Arthur gives everyone in the room a death glare.

“Everyone shut the hell up! And hands where I cn see em’! You too darky.” The man shouts and motions to Lenny.

“Do I look like I can fire a gun right now!?” Lenny snaps back holding his bloody upper arm.

Knowing what this man is and hearing how he speaks to Lenny makes me feel physically sick. But not just that, it makes me stupid with rage. I see red.

I decide there and then that if I’m going to die, I’ll be taking this fucker with me.

I move the hand that’s still holding the lantern back a bit, positioning it over this guys foot. And then I simply…..let go.

As soon as I do, I duck as much as I can in his grip and watch as the lantern hits his foot.

His gun fires. But so does everyone else’s.

It was all a big blur. One moment I’m ducking and elbowing this pervert in the dick as flames quickly engulf his leg and then the next, I’m on the floor with a hole in my thigh.

Everyone fires so the man is quickly riddled with bullets and lies burning on the floor. Charles grabs the rug and smothers the flames before they can spread further. Everyone else just remains in place, stunned.

The shock wears off quickly and the pain in my leg starts.

“WHO. THE FUCK. SHOT ME!?” I shout as Arthur throws himself to the ground to wrap his bandana around the wound. It’s quiet for a few seconds (other than my pathetic “ow ow ow’s”) and then a small voice pipes up from the corner.

“Um…I think that was me….” Lenny says timidly from his position on the sofa, a smoking gun still hanging from his pained hand.

“Why the fuck did you shoot!?” Micah shouts at Lenny and Charles jumps to his defense, “Everyone shot! Could have been anyone….”

Unfortunately, Micah wasn’t having any of it and argues back. Then Arthur joins in…..and then John who was annoyed at Arthurs handling of the situation…..then Lenny sticks up for Arthur….who turns his anger onto Micah for bringing this whole thing upon us.

It was ridiculous.

The only people not making any noise are me and Sadie who catches my eye from across the room, causing us both to burst into laughter. Making all the men stop.

“My first gunshot and it was given to me…..by Lenny!?” I say wheezing through my laughter as Arthur helps me up. I stumble as I struggle not to put too much weight on my left leg.

“Could’ve been worse!” Arthur says sternly to me and I just pat his face like you would a child who’s too riled up.

“Yeah, yeah” I whisper looking away and remembering what caused all of this.

“They’re holding girls down there.” I say grimly looking from the basement to the others around me.

“Girls?” Sadie says taking a large step forward to me and I nod.

“Three of them….they look around 12/13 years old.” I whisper to her.

Sadie nods and orders the men out before turning to me softly, “Let’s go get them.”

“Hey…..hey!” Micah barks as he shakes me awake.

“God damn Micah!” I growl after I’ve gathered my bearings, “You could’ve woken me up nicely!”

“Oh yeah…how would you want me to wake you up then?” Micah drawls while wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Try not at all” I say sickly sweet back to him. He’s taken residence on the very popular crate by my bed.

Micah scoffs and turns away from me scratching the back of his neck. He’s not wearing his hat and he’s changed into his black shirt, the one I borrowed. He shakes his head while turning his gaze to the ground.

“You okay?” I ask quietly when he fails to look back at me, “Micah?”

I reach out and touch his arm, but doing so pulls at my leg, causing me to hiss. Micah snaps his attention back to me.

“Hey don’t go movin’ around! You gotta be more careful.” He barks again and moves further towards me, placing my hand on his arm where I was reaching for him. I smile.

“You sound like Arthur” I chuckle despite the pain in my thigh.

“Pfft. Guess he can’t always be wrong then.” Micah scoffs and looks at the bandage on my thigh. “I still can’t believe that idiot shot you!”

“It’s not like he meant to and anyways I’m lucky he wasn’t using his own gun. Just one he found on the ground. Might’ve been a lot worse otherwise.” I sigh looking down at where my skirt is ridden up. I no longer have my cut off union trousers under it so one thigh is completely bare while the other one is covered in bandages. I catch Micah looking.

“Hey”, I snap my fingers at him, “My eyes are up here buddy.”

I expect some witty retort but instead he picks up the hand that lies on his arm….and kisses it. His mustache tickles my knuckles and the feeling makes me sigh happily. For a short moment I close my eyes and forget about the hole under the bandages.

“You did good out there.” He eventually says in a whisper. If he wasn’t so close I’d of never heard him.

“Thank you” I reply giving him a sleepy smile. I shift a bit and wince at the pull in my thigh.

“You want some more whiskey?” Micah asks me and I shake my head.

“Nah, it’s making me feel a bit sick. I just need to sleep….which I was doing very well I’ll have you know.” I say narrowing my eyes are him. Micah laughs and shifts even closer.

“You know…I could make you feel a whole lot better without whiskey.” Micah whispers into my ear and I shiver at the sensation of his breath on my neck. Micah puts his large calloused palm on my good thigh and lets his thumb graze over my knee.

“Micah” I whisper, instantly feeling my underwear become wet, “I was shot like, three hours ago.”

Micah kisses from my ear down to the side of my neck and back up again. He delicately licks at my ear and nibbles on my lob before saying “Mmhm and I think that means you deserve somethin’ don’t you? For doin’ so good….savin’ those girls….you did real good.”

As much as I’d go to my grave denying it, Micah’s praise is doing something to me. I lie my head back and close my eyes, giving into the sensation of his large fingers skimming my inner thigh. The only problem is he’s said the word that I’ve heard one too many times to feel good.

“Thing is Micah,” I whisper opening my eyes. I run my hand up into his hair and pull his head back to look me in the eyes. I lick my lips and plunge forward connecting my lips to his in a brief, heated, dominating kiss. One that, if it had a winner, would be me. I nip his bottom lip as we detach, “I don’t like being told what I ‘deserve’.” I finish by licking along the seams of his lips and let go of his hair.

I settle back into my cot and gently take his hand from my inner thigh and press it to my soaked underwear.

“Fuck” Micah sighs under his breath and I can see the tell-tale signs of him growing hard in his trousers. His eyes snap to mine as I start to gently rut against his fingers which I’ve maneuvered to press against my aching clit.

“You see….” I whisper to Micah as I pick up the pace as much as I can with my injured leg, “…..telling me what I ‘deserve’ makes it feel like I’m being gifted something…..” I continue to rub his fingers against me and I can see Micah rub his erection through the fabric of his trousers. His eyes haven’t moved from where his hand has disappeared up my skirt.

“……when the reality is…..” I pause a moment while I slip my underwear to the side and allow one of Micah’s thick fingers to enter me, “…..I take what I want. Not what men think I ‘deserve’”

My tent is filled with the sounds of Micah quietly grunting as he palms himself and the wet, slick noise of his finger being moved in and out of my tight heat. When I feel that I’m ready, I move another of his fingers to push into me and once I feel adjusted, I snap my fingers at Micah to grab his attention.

Micah watches with his mouth hanging open as I lick my own essence from my fingers. I then lie back and hold the top of my cot before asking huskily, “You know what to do right?”

It takes a moment for Micah to come to his senses but when he does, he snaps his mouth closed and lunges for my lips. While he kisses me, a kiss that I allow him to control, his fingers begin to move inside me.

“Yer so fucking wet,” he growls in my ear and the sensation sends shockwaves all the way down to my core, “and tight. Jesus, so tight.” Micah’s other hand moves to his belt and I grab the wrist of his hand currently fucking me. He stops and looks at me.

“No….this is mine remember.” I say to him cockily, “I’m happy to finish alone. But I will admit I’d rather ride your fingers than mine.”

Micah removes the hand from his belt and moves to tower over me on the cot. His right-hand resumes fingering me while his left moves to clutch at the top of the cot near my head. He very, very carefully places his knee on the cot, making sure to avoid my injured thigh.

“You like being in charge?” he hisses at me while his fingers move faster and faster, “That’s fine…..for now.” Micah moves his thumb to my clit and starts applying just the right amount of pressure. I grab the sides of his face and pull his lips to mine to quieten my moans and then grab at his shirt to keep him in place.

“Faster” I gasp between kisses and Micah obliges, “Fuck, you feel so good.” I praise and I’m sure I see his eyes light up, “Don’t stop.” Micah shakes his head and kisses at my neck again while my free hand finds purchase in his long hair.

I feel myself climb higher and higher towards my peak as Micah kisses and nibbles along my neck. I know he wants to sink his teeth in but he also knows that wouldn’t end well. Micah wants more than his fingers inside me one day and if he pushes too far, he knows he’ll lose that opportunity. Micah’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid.

“You like my fingers darlin’?” Micah drawls as he pulls back to look at me. I nod eagerly and whimper the closer I get. Micah moves his free hand to my face and brushes his thumb down to my lips which I eagerly take into my mouth and suck. “Fuckin’ hell baby….keep doin’ that….” When I stop sucking, Micah adds a quick “please.”

Micah’s fingers, along with his hot breath on my face as he pants and his thumb moving in and out of my mouth, causes me to hit my high and I cum. Hard. I grab the wrist under my skirt and still his hand which I grind against to ride out the final waves of pleasure.

I bite down hard on Micah’s thumb to contain my cries and for a moment I worry that I’ve hurt him but when I open my eyes, I’m met with his signature smirk. I also notice he’s breathing very, very hard.

As he removes his fingers from me, I glance down to his lap and see a dark stain spreading around his crotch. I bite my lip as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks my wetness off of them.

“Well” he huffs once he’s finished, “That was somethin’.”

I can’t help but laugh and can only get out a quiet, “Yep.”

Micah smiles and leans down to capture my lips with his, giving me a taste of myself on his tongue. When he pulls back, he takes a moment to grasp my face and growl. I wink at him and giggle as he pulls his face away from me; the euphoria, whiskey and exhaustion from the day making me giddy.

“Goodnight darlin’” he drawls quietly and honestly the only thing I can manage is a nod. My body is tingling and I feel weightless. As Micah straightens up, fully ready to face anyone outside my tent with his wet crotch, I feel my body giving into sleep.

Before I doze off, I’m almost 100% sure I feel blankets being pulled up over me as the lantern is dimmed.

[rosemary-morgan]

John Marston X F.Reader: The sky in her eyes - Part 4

(pictures found on pinterest)

Hello lovely ones (✿◕‿◕✿)

Here comes the new chapter of “The sky in her eyes” 😊 Thank´s so much for all the likes, reblogs and comments. Thank you so much dear ones 🖤🖤 Means a lot to me!!

@fangirl-ramblings​ @gangofgunslingers​

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

(¯`v´¯)                                                      (¯`v´¯) `*.¸.*´                                                        `*.¸.*´ ¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨) (`’·.¸(`’·.¸  ¸.·’´) ¸.·’´)  (¨*•.¸ (¨*•.¸`•.¸ (¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•               •`¯¨• ¸¸ `•. `•.¸) `•.¸) `*.¸.*´                                                       `*.¸.*´

The sky in her eyes -  Part 4

The journey to Beechers Hope took almost an hour, and you had to admit that you were still a little exhausted. But you didn't want to bother Jim Milton by making yourself comfortable on his broad back. The past few days and weeks hadn't left you without a trace. Sleeping in old, abandoned train stations and on the hard ground had been very painful after a few days. You still couldn't believe that your life would change soon. In a good way - at least you hoped so. When you saw the house Jim Milton had told you about, you were very relieved. The young man stopped his horse in front of the house. "Welcome to Beecher's Hope!"

You couldn't put into words how you felt right now. It was a beautiful emotion - you felt a sense of safety. Suddenly, you heard a cow mooing from the barn - oh, you had missed that sound. John watched you as he took the saddle off his horse, and he smiled when he saw your fascinated expression. "Miss! I hope you didn't think I was taking you to some dark places!" John just made a joke that made you smile too. "Honestly? That was exactly what I thought, Mister Milton. I was concerned about going with you." John was just putting his saddle down when you said that. He couldn't blame you, after all, he was a stranger to you. The young man slowly turned to you. "But you came with me. Why?" "As I told you before, I have nothing left, and no one is waiting for me. I knew I was taking a risk, but looking for happiness is worth every risk." John admired your choice of words, and he had to admit that you were right in what you said. He looked down at the ground for a moment, thinking about the time when he had also left everything behind to start a new life. "Come on"; said the young man, making a quick head movement to the entrance of his house. "I'll show you where to sleep." You followed him, entered the steps to his house, and stopped behind him when he opened the door. Your heart beats a little faster. You were still nervous. You shouldn't trust a stranger, you knew that. But you had no choice. On the other hand, why would Jim Milton want to harm you? He had enough opportunities, and nothing has happened. You tried to calm down, telling yourself that everything was fine. You stepped into the house, looking at the interior, and you immediately had to smile. You were suddenly very relaxed when you see all the beautiful wooden furniture. Jim Milton even had a chimney. How pretty. "This... is a very nice home, Mister Milton." "Thank you." John had also taken some time to build this house. Together with a good friend. Charles Smith. Charles had left the country a few months ago, and John missed him. But he could also understand that Charles wanted to start his own life. John had to admit that he was very happy about your company. He sometimes felt very lonely in this place. The puppy that came to him a few weeks ago has found his place again with his actual owners. It hadn't been easy for John to give him back.

"Here is your room." Charles lived in this room for a while, but now that he was gone, you could use it, and you were more than happy with it. A soft and cozy bed. Oh, you couldn't wait to sleep in it. "Thank you very much, Mister Milton." John smiled weakly and nodded. He knew what you had been through, and he felt sorry for you. John was glad that he was able to help you. "Well, Miss uhm... If you need anything just let me know." You nodded, you look at the floor. John noticed your insecurity but decided to remain silent. He understood that you will need time to get used to the current situation. "I can start working right away, Mister Milton." "Oh, okay, that would be great! Do you know about a farmer's job?" This time you smiled, and when you looked at the young man you nodded. "I grew up on a ranch." John was a little surprised when he heard that, but he was all the more pleased to hear your words. "Fantastic! The cows have to be milked!" "Then I'll get to work!" John looked at you with a smile as you walked past him. You hardly seemed to be able to wait to get to work. And so it was. You loved being on a ranch again. This place reminded you of the time when your parents were still with you. You would give anything to go back in time. But maybe Beecher's Hope would be able to give you back a piece of your childhood.

(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ (¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´

Days and weeks passed. You felt very comfortable in this house. This place was very special to you. So peaceful and beautiful. You fed the horses, enjoying to spoil the animals by petting them. It was hard to believe, but you had changed a lot in the past few weeks. You laughed, were open in talking to Jim Milton. Sometimes you were afraid that you were talking too much, but over the time you had realized that the young man didn't speak much. But he was a very friendly man, and it was nice to sit around the campfire with him at night, spending some time with him. Something was comforting about Jim. You had been looking for this feeling for a long time. Your soul had become very restless in the past few years. But now it seemed that you have found peace, and you were very grateful for that. Jim Milton had given you a chance to do something useful with your life.

John had also seen a change in you. He remembered how scared and reserved you were when he got you out of Strawberry's prison. Even days later, you had been very quiet, barely exchanging words with him. It was nice to see that he was able to help you. At least that was what John hoped. He had just finished his work, and he was completely sweaty. The only thing he wanted to do now was to take a refreshing bath and having dinner. He was completely exhausted but very satisfied. Especially since he no longer had to eat alone.

You also finished your work for today. You would now prepare the food since you were hungry too. You enjoyed standing in the kitchen. You had learned so many recipes from your father. God, there had been no better food for you than what your father had prepared with his hands. It was also nice to see how much Jim liked your food. But the young man always had kind words for you, and you had to admit, that you were thinking about this young man very often lately. When you walked out of the barn to make your way to the house, you saw Jim standing at the front door, taking off his completely sweaty shirt. "Oh, you'd better not take your clothes off here, Jim!" John turned to you in surprise, hadn't heard you coming. When you see his well-built torso with the fine hairs on his chest, you had to swallow a bit. It was a very nice view. "You are completely sweaty, and the air is cold. You will catch a cold." John smiled when you said that. Were you worried about him? He had to admit that it was pretty cute of you. "Yes, I know. It's an old habit of mine!" He grinned at you, and you returned his friendly gesture. You climbed the steps to the porch, stopped in front of him. You had to admit that his presence made you a little nervous. In a good sense. He was really attractive, also charming. And seeing him so sweaty was very pleasant for your eyes. "You must be hungry, Jim. I'll prepare dinner", you said with a kind smile before entering the house. John looked after you with a grin, but then he suddenly looked sad on the ground. You were a nice girl, very helpful, and smart. He still hadn't been able to tell you who he really was. You knew him under the name Jim Milton, believed that he had been a farmer for many years. It wasn't right to lie to you, and the young man knew this.

While John was taking a bath, you prepared the dinner. You cooked a delicious soup. You put plenty of potatoes, carrots, beans in it. When the meal was done, you brought the hot pot into the living room to place it on the large dining table. "Smells delicious!" "Thank you. Sit down, Jim. It's ready." John sat down at the table, watching you take the lid off the pot. The hot steam slowly rose from the pot, and his stomach immediately growled. John couldn't wait to enjoy this meal. After filling the plates, you sat down in your seat, and you both started eating. John enjoyed the warm soup that filled his stomach, and you too enjoy every spoon. There was nothing better than hot soup. You talked to him, enjoying his company. "Mhmm... very delicious." You smiled softly. and you were pleased that he liked your food. "Thank you!" Beecher's Hope and John Milton had brought light into your life. But soon you would find out who Jim Milton really was...

It happened a few days later. You were cleaning the house, also taking care of his bedroom. You were dusting his bedside table when you accidentally pushed a small box off it. You immediately leaned down, and suddenly, you saw something that made you frown. Your eyes widen as a golden sparkle caught your attention. You instinctively reach for it as if it were calling for you. You looked at the piece of jewelry, and you froze when you realized what it was. "What? That... that can't be..." You immediately checked the inside engraving of the ring, and you saw that it was your mother's heirloom. You were speechless, your fingers trembled, and your eyes filled with tears. Why was this piece of jewelry here? Maybe Jim had found it somewhere? You didn't know, but that wasn't important at the moment. With a relieved sigh, you ran your hand through your hair as you sat down on Jim's bed. You stared at the golden ring, couldn´t believe that you had found it. It meant a lot to you, and you were so happy. "Oh my god. I can´t believe this..." "Y/N?!" You looked surprised at Jim who was just entering his room. He was also surprised to find you here - very surprised. "What are you doing here?" It didn't look like he'd be happy to see you in his room. "Oh, Jim!" With a smile, and tears on your rosy cheeks, you looked at him. "I uhm... excuse me, for being here! I have... uhm..." You just didn't have the right words, since you were just so happy at the moment. But when you saw the sad look on the young man's face, your pretty smile faded slowly. "Jim? Are you okay?" The young man came closer, looking at you with grief. "John...", he said. You frowned, looking at him confused. John? "John Marston." "What?" You were very confused! Who was John Marston? Why was the young man acting so strangely? "My name is not Jim Milton, Y/N. My name is John Marston!" When he said that, you slowly rose from his bed, not taking your eyes off his face. John saw how confused you were right now, so it was time to finally tell you the truth. "That ring in your hand..." You looked at the golden piece of jewelry before you glanced back at the young man. "Where did you get this ring from?" John sighed softly, stroking his neck. "Y/N... that ring... uhm..." It wasn´t easy for him to find the right words. "I stole this ring in a robbery many years ago..." When John said these words to you, you look at him in horror. "I ripped it off a young woman's neck ..." You opened your mouth to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. You fall back on the bed, looking stunned at the floor and try to understand what was happening here. Was this a bad joke? "But..." You shook your head, looking down at your knees. Seeing you in this condition hurt John deeply. He was the reason you were so sad. When he heard you sob, he closed his eyes. John was deeply ashamed of what he had done to you. But like you, he hadn't had a choice then. "Y/N... I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for what I did to you!" You said nothing, just looked at the ground, trying to understand why he had done something like that. "So, you remember me, John Marston?" "Yes..." John murmured softly. Your eyes looked at him, and there was something reproachful about your gaze. John didn't blame you for that. "And that's why I'm here? So that you can calm your conscience?" You were absolutely right. But John wasn't just trying to calm his conscience. He wanted to help you. "Y/N... I had no other choice back then. I was trying to survive!" When he said that, your facial features softened, and your eyes looked at him gently. You knew the meaning of survival. "I had seen the fear in your eyes, Y/N... It was the last time I had done a robbery." This was too much information for you. You just wanted to avoid John at the moment. Slowly, you rose from your place, without paying any attention to the young man. You couldn't stand his sight at the moment. You felt so betrayed. Who was this man? He was a stranger! He´s not Jim Milton! "I... want to be alone now," you whispered as you walked past him. John sighed sadly, looking at you as you went to the door. "Y/N, please wait..." But you didn't say a single word and left his room. When you arrived at your room, you locked the door and leaned against it. Salty tears ran down your cheeks as you pressed your hand to your mouth to suppress a loud sob. The truth was often unbearable. You were very disappointed, and yet you loved John Marston.

You didn't show up to John all day, and he understood. He just hoped that one day you would forgive him. John liked you very much. He had found a good friend in you, and he didn´t want to lose this friendship. But, couldn't you understand that he had no choice? That he had done everything as a young man just to survive? And you tried the same a few weeks ago. John sighed softly as he put the last feed bag in the barn. Suddenly he heard soft footsteps behind him, and he immediately turned around. "Y/N!" Your facial expression was no longer as severe as it was a few hours ago, also you seemed more relaxed. "What... what can I do for you?" Asked the young man carefully. There was a small smile on your lips, but you looked at the ground. "I was thinking about what you said to me." The relief was evident on John's face. He slowly approached you, and you glancing up at him, straight into his beautiful eyes. "I did the same thing as you, John. At least I tried. So I have no right to condemn you for what you did." You reached for his wrist, and John frowned as you pressed something into his hand. When he saw your precious piece of jewelry, his eyes widened. "But, Y/N..." "Keep it." You smiled at him, and John looked at you in confusion. This ring belongs to you. Why did you give him this treasure? "Please, John. It was in good hands with you for years, and I want you to keep it." "But Y/N, that wouldn't be right..." "It is the right thing, John. You had taken good care of this ring, and you hadn´t sold the gold. This jewelry must also be important to you", you said quietly. John looked at the floor in silence, then nodded slowly. Yes, this piece of jewelry had meant a lot to him, because it had reminded him of you for years, and that he was much more than just an outlaw. "Y/N. I..." "It´s okay, John." The next moment John was silent. He looked very thoughtful while he was looking at the ring in his hand, and therefore, you decided to leave him alone. "Good night, John." The young man looked at you, but you had already turned around to go. John sighed softly, bit his jaw a little harder. He hadn't expected this kind of gesture. You had a big heart. "Good night, Y/N..."

To be continued...

[littlestarofthewest]

Forever ago, I wrote a little ficlet based on this post by @theunholyoutlaw <3 for her OC Stevie and John. Back then, I promised her smut, and I take my smut promises very seriously, so here you go :) (I put part 1 and 2 together)

Title: lipstick kisses | Word Count: 2800 | Rating: Explicit!!! (18+)

Pairing: John Marston x OC | Tags: fluff and smut

The first time Miss Stevie Blackheart meets Mr. John Marston is during a bounty hunt. She gets there first, but John is the better shot, which makes him essential for bringing the bounty in at all. 

They're both after Greg Wheeler, also known as Crazy Wheeler. He's a trigger happy lunatic who's not at all interested in being brought in alive. Working together, Stevie and John get him to the nearest sheriff nonetheless. Splitting the bounty evenly, they go their separate ways, assuming they'll never see each other again.

As it turns out, they seem to frequent the same saloon and run into each other so often that any innocent bystander might think that they meet up there on purpose. After initial nods as a greeting and timid hellos, they get to talking once in a while, and it comes a time where they work some more bounty jobs together.

After a job well done, they often end up drinking, and Stevie gets to learn that John Marston is a flirty drunk. It always seems like good fun, and he never tries anything with her, but after about three months of this, Stevie sometimes wishes he would. 

John is a badass when it comes to their work, but he can be rather sweet when you get him on his own. He's also a chaotic idiot at times, but Stevie can appreciate that he straight up says what he thinks. 

That's why today is weird. John keeps sneaking glances at her in between sips from his beer. They're not quite drunk, just a little tipsy. It's time for John to either tell stupid jokes or hit on her. So far, he hasn't done either.

"What is it?" Stevie finally asks, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

"What is what?" John asks.

Stevie rolls her eyes. "You're giving me these weird looks. Why?"

"I was just wondering-," John says, his eyes wandering to Stevie's lips. He licks his own before lifting a hand to her face, his fingertips trailing over her lower lip.

Stevie has a hard time staying like this, fighting the urge to bring out her tongue or suck John's fingers into her mouth. He takes his hand away, shrugging his shoulders, and finally, Stevie's mind catches on. 

"You've been looking at my lipstick?" she asks.

"Yeah, it's so dark."

"So?" Stevie asks, something fluttering in her chest. 

It's been a long time since she cared what others thought about her, but John's opinion seems to be the most important thing all of a sudden. 

"I like it," John says, in that matter-of-fact tone he has when spilling some of his personal truths. "Does it taste like something?"

Stevie shrugs her shoulders, but before she can answer, John brings his hand up again, gently holding her chin.

"It looks like it tastes like something," he says before leaning in. 

John brushes his lips along Stevie's before licking along her lower lip. She melts into the touch, forgetting to breathe, but it's over as fast as it started. Leaning back, John lets go of her and takes his bottle instead. "Guess I was wrong."

Finally, Stevie gets out of her stupor, hitting John against the shoulder. "That's your excuse to kiss me? You thought it tastes like something?"

"Was just curious," John says, a slight smile dancing around his lips. Stevie's not sure if he's deliberately playing dumb or not. 

"I see," she huffs. "Anything else you're curious about?"

John studies her for a long moment. "I'm wondering if you would like to go outside with me."

He's not saying it, but the implication is pretty clear. There's only one thing they could do out there together, especially after what just happened. John empties his bottle and heads for the door. He looks at Stevie one last time before stepping outside.

She's frozen to the spot. It's not like Stevie hasn't thought about this, but walking out that door after John might change her whole life. What is she going to do?

--------

Stevie's heart is pounding like crazy, and she's torn like she's never been before. On the one hand, she wants to stay and let John rot outside for all eternity. What was he thinking coming on to her like that? Wondering if it tastes like something. What a load of horseshit.

On the other hand, that barely-there kiss already had her go weak in the knees. What would it be like to do that properly? How would it feel like if John touched her again, and not only her lips? 

Stevie keeps staring at the door, trying to way the pros and cons when that ugly piece of wood suddenly comes closer and closer. She finds herself pushing it open, and the second she walks through the door, John grabs her arm and whisks her away into a side alley.

"You have some nerve," Stevie bites, wiggling her arm free.

"You came," John says, surprise in his voice.

"Maybe I want to kick your ass after what you just did."

Stevie's surprised about her own voice. She sounds pretty damn serious, and John lifts his hands as if she's holding him at gunpoint.

"Please do," he says, just as serious.

The implication of having John at her mercy drives heat waves all over Stevie's body. John is leaning back against the wall behind him, and Stevie's gaze is drawn to his neck. John's wearing a thick jacket for the cold, but the shirt under it is barely buttoned up. Over the last few weeks, Stevie has been staring at that small stretch of skin, the little hairs peeking out like an invitation to explore.

"You're an idiot, John Marston."

"I know," he says, finally taking down his hands, "but please enlighten me why."

"You talk about my lipstick, and all you can think about is if it tastes good?" Stevie asks, very much in the mood to torture John a little. "You should've asked yourself what my lips would look like wrapped around … certain things."

John opens his mouth, clearly surprised, but nothing comes out. It's actually endearing that the thought has never occurred to him. That creates a problem for Stevie because she pushed aside any ideas about John with the reason that he must be some sort of a heartbreaker, having a lady in each town. All he did, though, was kissing her and wondering about the taste of her lips. 

"I didn't-" John begins, a blush creeping onto his face.

Without thinking, Stevie throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. It's not easy, considering how John is almost a head taller than Stevie, but he seems to shrink under her show of control. It's a real kiss this time. Lips brushing, tongues rubbing against each other, shared breaths in the little space between them. 

John comes out of his stupor, and Stevie is reminded that he's not one to play around, no matter what he sets his mind to. His hands roam over her body, the blushing idiot replaced by a man who much likely pleased a few ladies in his life.

After pressing Stevie against the wall of the saloon, John sneaks his hands under her shirt, tracing his fingers over her skin while still kissing her. He doesn't hesitate or stop for a second, cupping her breasts and knitting the soft flesh. Stevie lets out a surprised gasp, and John suddenly draws back before grabbing her hand.

"Come on," he says, dragging her along.

Stevie follows but not without a struggle. "Where are you going?"

"If this is happening," John says, gesturing between the two of them, "then I don't want to do it behind this rundown shithole."

They're making their way to the horses, warmth spreading in Stevie's chest. She's been sure than John wanted nothing but a bit of fun, but looking for a nicer place almost seems romantic like this means more to John. Despite knowing that Stevie can handle herself, John helps her onto her horse before climbing his own.

"Where to then?" Stevie asks, wondering if John just made a spur of the moment decision or if he actually thought about this before.

"Follow me," John says, taking off as if someone is coming after them. 

It's a short ride through thick trees until they come to a clearing, the ground covered with late-blooming flowers and the moon shining down on them through the small gap in the trees. John jumps off his horse and lets it go wherever it wants before holding out his arms to Stevie. 

Of course, she'd have no trouble doing this on her own, but she enjoys how John's hands close warm around her waist, and while Stevie's horse trots away, John pulls her down to the ground.

They kiss as if there hasn't been any interruption at all, John's hand sneaking under Stevie's shirt again. She takes it even further by opening the buttons on John's shirt, pulling it down together with his jacket. John replies in kind, taking off her shirt while kissing along her neck.

Stevie holds on to John's shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh when his lips reach her breasts. He sucks one of her nipples into his mouth, making her arch her back with a gasp. John keeps teasing her, his thumb rubbing over her other nipple until she's got enough. 

With a grunt, Stevie reaches down between John's legs, her hand pressing hard against his bulge. "You want to play, John, or do you want to go down to business?"

"Never satisfied, are you?" John growls, but he sits up to take off Stevie's pants. 

"Not yet," she says before pushing John over to get on top of him.

John gives up easily, letting her take off his pants. Stevie crawls on top of John, not caring how eager she might seem. With his hands on her hips, Stevie rubs her wet pussy along John's cock, getting them both to break the silence of the night with eager moans.

Despite the darkness, Stevie can see the wild look in John's eyes as his gaze travels up and down her naked body, setting her ablaze. She eagerly reaches for John's cock, bringing him in position so she can sit down on him. John throws his head back, closing his eyes. "Shit, you're tight," he curses, biting his lip.

Stevie loves to see him so out of control, rolling her hips to tease him even more. She could imagine all kinds of naughty things that John could do to her, but he's only pulling her closer, looking into her eyes. With John's hand caressing Stevie's face with a feathery touch, he gets her to kiss him again. All of it is way too tender, his touches and kisses worshipping her instead of taking his own pleasure.

Warmth pools in Stevie's chest and she moves faster, almost angry. John has no right to be so sweet with her, luring her into thinking that this might be more than just sex. Pulling away from John, Stevie runs her fingers over his chest, leaving red scratch marks, more moans tumbling from John's lips.

He's holding on to her hips, but Stevie is the one in control, holding back or riding John like her life depends on it. It's been a long time since she felt that good, and she can't help the constant stream of profanities spilling out, making John growl whenever she says his name.

As if he needs to get back at Stevie, John runs his hands over her body, his fingers digging into her soft flesh everywhere he can reach. Then one hand finds its way between her legs, John's fingers providing just enough friction on Stevie's clit that she can't bring herself to stop, rutting so eagerly against him that she tumbles over the edge soon after.

John bites his lip again, holding out while Stevie's hips still buck on top of him. She takes deep breaths while John runs his fingers over her skin. "Satisfied now?" he asks.

Stevie shrugs. "A little bit."

After riding out with John on numerous bounty hunts, she knows the face he makes all too well, meaning she's in trouble. Without warning, he grabs her and flips them both over to get on top of her. Stevie wants to protest, but John shuts her up with an eager kiss before whispering in her ear. "My turn now."

He grabs her wrists, pulling her arms up over her head. The ground is cold, but Stevie can't really care, not with the way John trusts into her now. He has lost all bashfulness, leaning down to bite along her neck. It surprises herself that she lets him take over like that. In all her life, no man has ever pushed her around, but giving up control and letting John do to her what he wants turns her on way more than she thought possible.

Moans tumble from Stevie's lips as John lets one hand roam over her body. He teases her nipples again, getting her to eagerly roll her hips and meet his hard thrusts. Closing her legs around him, Stevie spurs John on to go even harder, and he covers her with his whole body. Held down like this, all she can do is take the pounding, heat consuming her, and pressure building up between her legs.

Then, John pulls back, making her think he might stop before pushing into her with one hard thrust. Stevie cries out, and John groans. "Oh yes, let me hear you, darling."

He does it again, making Stevie gasp, her thighs shaking. Something about the harsh treatment drives her right to the edge. John grabs her hair, tilting her head back. "Let me hear more from those sweet lips."

As John thrusts into her again, Stevie lets out another cry, bringing John to do it over and over again until Stevie can't take it anymore. She struggles against John's grip, her hips bucking, but John doesn't give her an inch. 

He presses himself against her, pushing into her with short hard thrusts, his mouth claiming her lips again. "You want me to fill you up, darling?" 

Stevie knows it's stupid to let him come inside of her, but right there, she wants it bad. "God, yes," she moans.

John buries his head against her neck, and when his hot come fills her up, Stevie falls right over the edge with John. Warm waves rush from her core all over her body, her heart pounding so hard against John's chest that he must be able to feel it. She moans his name over and over again until all she can do is breathe.

They both go quiet then, enjoying to be close. At least until Stevie shakes under John. He looks up, his face worried. "You alright?"

"What do you think, Marston?" Stevie grunts. "The ground is freezing cold."

John grabs Stevie and turns them around again, fishing for his nearby coat on the ground to put it over them. "Sorry. That better?"

"A little," Stevie says. Somehow she feels like she needs to keep their usual distance, but it's hard with John watching her, carefully brushing her hair out of his face. "We should get going."

John's arms draw closer around her as if he doesn't want to leave just yet. "There's a rundown cabin nearby. I stayed there a few times, doesn't seem to belong to anybody."

Stevie stares down at John, her brows pulling together. "You know of a cabin nearby, but thought this here would be a good place to fool around?"

"It's a bit of a ride to the cabin. I didn't feel like waiting that long," John says, a smile playing around his lips that drives a new warmth into Stevie's chest. "We could still go there now, warm you up."

His voice sounds hopeful, and Stevie shrugs, wishing she could decide how to feel about this. "I guess."

Finally, John lets go of her, and they both quickly dress. John gets on his horse and holds out his hand to Stevie. She raises a brow at him. "I can ride on my own."

"But then I can't warm you up," John says, before looking down at Stevie's guns. "And I'd feel safer with you closeby."

Stevie huffs but lets John help her up on his horse. She doesn't know what it is, but feeling John's warm body pressing against her, his arms closing around her like a shield, she has to admit that it feels nice. Stevie whistles for her horse to follow, and by the time they leave the clearing, she knows that for once in her life, she opened the right door.

[mileycyprus-hill]

Feliz Navidad! A RDR2 Secret Santa Fic.

A @rdrsecretsanta​ fic for @chaoticneautral​ I hope I did your OC Ruth justice with this. I had a lot of fun writing this for you! Merry Christmas and I hope you like it!

Summary: The gang celebrates Christmas (Pre-Blackwater) and new member Ruth feels left out until a special someone comes by to give her a present. 

Word count: 1610

December 24th, the day before Christmas. Ruth had barely known the holiday, let alone celebrate it. She only slightly recalls her nanny telling her the story of some baby born to be the savior of humanity, or something like that. The other gangs Ruth rode with? Well, they took no part in such a humbling ceremony that is Christmas, let alone speak about it.

Sitting quietly from her spot on the log, Ruth tries to avoid the awkwardness of taking part in such a celebration that she’s ignorant of. The warm fire in front of her roars and crackles as more logs are heaped onto the flames. The dry desert air is crisp and cool, as the warmth of the desert sun has dropped below the horizon hours ago.

Lyrics sung in broken melodies carry through the air by the cheerful members of the Van der Linde gang, who surround the bonfire with their joyful songs. Their words slur from the relaxing taste of whiskey and beer.

Ruth holds her bottle in her cold hands, still nearly full of the malty beer. Watching them quietly from her lonely spot, she meekly taps the glass bottle with her fingertips. The soft tapping clinks in time with their drunken songs.

O come, all ye faithful

Joyful and triumphant

O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem

Come and behold Him

Born the King of Angels!

O come, let us adore Him

O come, let us adore Him

O come, let us adore Him

Christ the Lord

The night drags on and so do the festivities. Reverend Swanson gives a short sermon and a prayer before stumbling to his tent, most likely to pass out from the combination of liquor and morphine, Ruth guesses. Shortly after the reverend’s drunken sermon, Dutch speaks. The patriarchal leader thanks the reverend and continues on with his regular poem of faith, love, and family. In his rich voice, Dutch speaks proudly of how thankful he is to have such loyal followers.

Ruth’s heart grows warm with pride and immense joy at Dutch’s words. Never before has she had a leader so open, so loving. From her first impression, he would seem cold and careless, but in just a short amount of time, Ruth found out there’s much more to the man named Dutch van der Linde.

In fact, there’s much more than what meets the eye when it comes to all of the members of camp, including one who caught Ruth’s eye.

She looks around her, sitting on the dry log just at the edge of the circle and resting her elbows on her knees. Nearly everyone encircles the fire in front of her; their cheeks red from beer and whisky and rum. They all seem to be having a good time, enjoying each other’s company, but Ruth still feels empty.

Mary-Beth stands from her spot to sing a beautiful Christmas carol, to which the gang shortly join in. Her sweet voice carries across the campground while Ruth takes her cue to step out quietly into the shadows.

Her footsteps back to her tent are muffled by the arid dirt and the loud voices of the party. As Ruth steps closer to her private tent, she’s reminded of how grateful she is to have one all to her own—no one barging in to use her for their own selfish pleasure. For once, she’s safe and can finally be alone.

But it indeed saddens her. For someone so used to the life of a lone wolf, the effects of loneliness can still wear on their spirit.

Christmas is a fairly new concept to her, at least the gang’s version of it. If only she could bring herself to celebrate it with them. She can’t help it. Ruth’s used to being so alone that celebrating in a party makes her feel out of place.

Standing at the open entrance of her tent for what felt like minutes, Ruth shakes her thoughts and steps forward to shut herself out from the rest.

Until she feels a soft, yet firm tap on her shoulder. It nearly startles her as she gasps softly and turns to see who’s behind her.

Johnny Marston, the handsome devil who caught her eye months ago after she joined. His black hair blends into the surrounding darkness behind him, while the distant amber fire glows in his eyes.

He greets her delicately with a smile and asks in his scratchy voice, “Turnin’ in already?”

Nervously biting her lower lip, she answers, “Yeah, ahem. I’m just, uh...tired. Thought I’d call it a night.”

“You ain’t gonna stay up with us?” John asks her. “I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t singing with all of us.”

Ruth fidgets with her hands, feeling put on the spot by him. Sensing her nervousness, John quickly grabs into his back pocket and pulls out a small box.

“Here,” John nearly whispers. “I got this for you.”

The small, red wooden box gleams in his hand. It looks brand new, with its freshly lacquered wood and golden inscription.

“Feliz Navidad,” John says.

Ruth looks to him in surprise. He had never bothered to learn Spanish before, let alone speak it. To hear such a thoughtful greeting in a familiar tongue, it lit a spark in her heart.

John notices her confusion and shrugs sheepishly, hoping he pronounced the words right.

“Javier taught me it...thought you’d like it.” He says. He raises his arm out to her to offer her this small token of holiday affection.

Ruth’s eyes dart down to the box and back up to John, her mouth agape and speechless.

“Shit, did I say it wrong? I’m sorry.” John mutters in shame, now cursing himself. He wonders if Javier taught him a dirty phrase instead of ‘merry Christmas’. Boy, does he feel foolish now. He thinks to himself how he’s going to strangle Javier the next time he sees him.

Smiling at his slight humiliation, Ruth takes the gift from his hand. Her own palms are sweating.

“No, it’s right,” Ruth consoles him. “Feliz Navidad, John.”

She cracks open the cherry wooden box to find a spectacular, sparkling brooch. A bright ruby gemstone sits in the center, surrounded by leaves made of silver and diamonds.

Her heart stops and her knees lock into place. It’s perhaps the most beautiful jewel she’s ever seen. And it’s for her, she wonders?

Ruth stumbles upon her words, trying to thank John for such a wonderful gift, but her tongue is numb and fat and her thoughts are wavering.

Staring at him in surprise, she sees him smiling and wheezing a scratchy chuckle.

“I knew you’d like it,” John gleams. “Cause of ‘Ruby Ruth’, you know? I thought it’d be kinda funny.”

“How did you manage to afford this?” Ruth finally manages to speak and think coherently.

John simply smiles and looks to her. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, “It’s Christmas.”

Suddenly Ruth doesn’t know how she mustered the bravery, but she finds herself wrapping her arms around John’s shoulders. The box still in her hand, she hugs him tightly. Her heartbeat races while John returns the hug with his arms wrapped around her waist and his face nuzzled in her silky hair.

“Thank you,” Ruth whispers.

“You’re welcome,” John responds with his voice muffled in her hair, relishing the tight embrace.

He breaks the hug for a moment to pull out a tall bottle from his satchel.

“I also got this,” he says, holding a bottle of red wine in his hand. “I’d like to share it with you, if you’d like.” His cheeks flush to match the dark red wine inside the bottle.

“I would,” Ruth answers, accepting John’s hand and allowing him to lead her to his tent across the way.

With the gang still singing at the fire at the far edge of camp, the two of them slip inside John’s tent unnoticed. The sound of a match strike is soon followed by the soft glow of the oil lamp on the nightstand.

“Can I...see it on you?” John asks sheepishly, pointing to the gift box in her hand.

Ruth nods her head and gathers her hair behind her, turning her back to John while he plucks the brooch out of the box.

She feels a gentle tug of the brooch against her hair as John places it in the notch of her simple updo. Her scalp feels flushed with heat at the touch of John’s fingertips against her head. Strands of hair hang down near the front of her face, framing her with their flattering black ink.

“Beautiful,” John whispers, taking in the beautiful sight before him.

The twilight of dawn approaches as the early morning sun announces its arrival. The dark blue horizon glows in subtle pinks and violets, like brushstrokes on a canvas. The once boisterous noises of camp are now silenced, with only soft snores and drunken hiccups left behind.

But there is still one faint sound coming from the tent of John Marston.

An empty wine bottle lays abandoned in front of the entrance, tossed onto the dirt with not a drop left. A muted song sung by two contrasting voices barely pass through the thick, green canvas. The song is lead by John’s voice and memory, guiding Ruth’s sweet, angelic air through the melody and lyrics.

It came upon the midnight clear,

That glorious song of old,

From angels bending near the earth,

To touch their harps of gold:

"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,

From heaven's all-gracious King."

The world in solemn stillness lay,

To hear the angels sing.

————————-

Merry Christmas!

[lucacangettathisass]

how the light gets in (ch.7)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE, CHAPTER SIX

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be added to the tag list lmk!

NOTES: aayyyeee another update! man this leave is doing wonders for this fic lmao. slight tw for low self esteem, it’s only one incident bust just to be sure! as always please Reblog and be sure to send me any comments and questions you may have! have a nice day!

There was fire everywhere.

No matter where you looked you were met with flames so hot that you felt all the moisture in your mouth dry up with a single hacking breath, and the metal of your locket melting into your skin, becoming a part of your flesh.

You tried to run, but the flames were everywhere, obscuring your vision so badly you couldn’t even tell where you were. You brought your hands to your eyes, wiping away the tears, trying to find some way to see clearly. When you opened your eyes, you could just make out a silhouette among the flames, standing completely still.

Elated at seeing someone else, and terrified for their safety, you rushed to them. You couldn’t remember ever being able to run that fast, it felt like you were flying.

“You need to get out!” You somehow managed to force the words out of your smoke clogged throat, if it was only just a strangled sounding cry, sounding like a particularly sick cat. “You-”

The silhouette turned, and you froze in place.

Standing before you amidst the flames, was Jake.

His hair seemed lighter in the light of the fire. His eyes were empty, containing only reflections of the flames surrounding you both.

“JAKE!”

You tried desperately to run to him, but with each breath he seemed to be getting further and further away. You helplessly held out your hands, hoping that if you stretched hard enough, you would be able to grab some part of him.

Then, all at once, you were in front of him.

The flames still raged, but you could no longer feel the heat.

Head spinning and stomaching flipping, you gripped Jake’s shirt, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Jake! Where’s Sadie? We need-” You stopped mid sentence when you a drop of blood fell on your cheek.

You watched in horror as blood began to flow out of Jake’s mouth, like a waterfall. Holes appeared in his forehead and stomach, dark and gnarled around the edges and spilling just as much blood.

Within seconds you were knee deep in Jake’s blood.

You screamed, clawing at Jake’s shirt, trying to get a grip so that you might climb onto him and he would put his arms around you, like when you were a child.

But he remained still, and when you looked into his eyes, you saw your tear streaked face, mouth open to let out your horrified screams.

-

You woke with a start, heart pounding.

You whipped your head around and held your breath, expecting to see flames.

But there weren’t any.

Everything was fine and normal, because it had all been a horrible nightmare, and now you were awake and back in Colter.

“You ok?”

With a slight jump, you turned to see Sadie looking at you with worry. You glanced around and saw the other women had more or less the same expression.

Face flushing, you nodded quickly. “Of course.” Your voice sounded strangled, like in your nightmare, and you coughed to try and clear your throat.

As your heart slowed and the biting cold chased away the dream memories of the searing flames, you saw from the corner of your eye Sadie shifting closer to you. “What happened?” She asked, and you knew it would be pointless to pretend you were ok.

“I just...I had a bad dream.” You instinctively moved closer to Sadie’s side, leaning against her as she puts an arm around you. “I’ll be fine.”

For a while the two of you sit together in silence. You thought back to your childhood, where most days you would run into Sadie’s arms, sobbing over how one of the local children had tormented you. It was apparently a favoured hobby of theirs. In this moment, you felt the same kind of helplessness and despair that you had felt all those years ago. You thought you had grown out of it, but clearly not.

You brought your fingers to your locket, and wished that your mother was there to give some kind of guidance and comfort. Of course you knew that was pointless, what physical comfort could the dead provide after all?

You were pulled out of your melancholy by the arrival of food, brought in by Mr Matthews, Mr Pearson and, to your surprise, Mr Escuella.

While the older men went to the other women, Mr Esceulla approached you and Sadie, bowls of stew in each hand. “Hope you haven’t gotten sick of venison yet.”

You sat up straight, quickly smiling as you took both bowls, handing one to Sadie. “Of course not.” You assured him. “Thank you Mr Escuella.”

You expected him to leave with Mr Matthews and Mr Pearson, but he sat in front of the fire instead. Deciding that it wasn’t your place to question his whims, you began to eat, all too aware of the cold stare Sadie was sending Mr Escuella.

Now that you were able to get a closer look at him, you found Mr Escuella to be good looking. He kept his hair in a ponytail, which was something you were unused to seeing on men, but it suited him rather well. His finely trimmed facial hair indicated a sense of pride in his appearance and that he took care of himself. This was something you were used to seeing, but only in polite society, and it had never before occurred to you that outlaws and the like could be as well groomed as that crowd, but this whole experience was doing a lot to alter your previous world views.

“You settling in ok?”

His question brought you back to earth, and you nodded, still smiling. “Yes, everyone has been very kind and accommodating. Thank you.”

Mr Escuella snorted. “Not everyone.”

You furrowed your brow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I was talking about Micah.” The tone Mr Escuella used indicated that while they were in the same gang, there didn’t appear to be any kind of friendship between Mr Escuella and Mr Bell. Of course, the interaction they had while you were checking up on Mr Marston was a decent indicator of that too. “Listen, like I said, he’s a jackass. If he gives you any trouble tell one of us ok? Most of us don’t like him so we won’t mind shoving a boot up his ass.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. The other women, mainly Miss Jones, had also told you to confide in them should the men prove annoying, and you of course knew that Sadie would be more than willing to lend an ear (and no doubt fist), but to hear one of the men, especially one that appeared to be as well respected and esteemed as Mr Escuella, say such a thing took you aback.

“It’s really fine Mr Escuella.” You assured him. “I didn’t take any offence to what he said.” In truth, you still didn’t know what he had meant. Sadie apparently did, but she still didn’t explain it to you, and you thought better of asking, lest it upset her.

“Still, it would be nice to have an excuse to knock him on his ass.” Mr Escuella pulled out a cigarette case, a rather fine looking one, and opened it, pulling one out. “You want one?” He extended the case to you.

“Oh no, I don’t smoke.” You smiled, feeling yourself warm at Mr Escuella’s friendliness. “But thank you.”

Mr Escuella nodded. “What about you?” His gaze shifted to Sadie.

She remained silent, only eating and glowering at Mr Escuella.

“Alright.” Apparently unfazed, Mr Escuella returned the cigarette case to his pocket, and pulled out a match. He struck it against the heel of his boot and lit his cigarette, tossing it into the fire.

The flames stuttered a little, and you flinched.

If Mr Escuella noticed, he didn’t react. “You did a good job with John.” He took a puff on his cigarette. “The stitches look real clean.”

A flush came to your cheeks, and your smile grew. “That’s very kind of you to say Mr Escuella.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” He looked you up and down. “You don’t seem like the type to get into scrapes with wild animals.”

“No, but an old friend of mine is.” You laughed lightly. “He loves to hunt, and has more boldness than sense, which isn’t a good combination. He would get wounded so often that learning how to tend to those kinds of injuries properly became something of a necessity.”

Mr Escuella chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his chest, and you bloomed with pride knowing that you did that. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” He took another drag. “Where’s he?”

“Russia.”

Mr Escuella raised a brow. “That’s pretty far.”

“His parents wanted him to return home.” You explained. “They felt he had spent enough time here.”

A pensive look came over Mr Escuella’s face. “Yeah. It can be hard being away from family.”

You remembered what the other women had told you about Mr Escuella, how he had more or less been forced into exile for rebelling against the government, leaving his family behind. He hadn’t seen them in years, and their fates were a mystery to him, just as his was to them. That was a despair that you knew was heavier than most. You wanted to say something, maybe even touch his arm or shoulder, but there was too much space between the two of you, both physically and in the sense of status, for you to properly do so. And of course Sadie.

“So what else did you boys find at that O’Driscoll camp, aside from the one we got in the barn?”

Everyone turned to Miss Jones, who was looking eagerly at Mr Escuella.

“Explosives and plans for what was supposed to be their next big robbery.” Mr Escuella sounded rather smug, and you didn’t blame him. You imagined it would’ve been quite the feat. “We must’ve killed a couple dozen of them, but it looks like it’s going to be worth it, because now we’re the ones who’re gonna be robbing Leviticus Cornwall.”

“Mr Cornwall?” You raised your eyebrows and you could almost feel your ears physically perk up at the name. “You’re going to rob Mr Cornwall?”

“Well not him directly, just one of his trains.” Mr Escuella took a drag of his cigarette, regarding you with a curious gaze. “Sounds like you know him.”

“Oh, well, not really.” You felt your face flush again, but this time it was embarrassment rather than happiness. “I only met him once a few years ago, but he left a rather distinct impression. I’ve seen him a small handful of times since, but we never spoke for very long.”

Mr Escuella seemed pensive again as he nodded. “Well, I better get back to the rest of the guys.” He rose to his feet, taking one last puff of his cigarette before it too was tossed into the fire, adding a slight tobacco scent to the air. He turned to you. “Like I said, if Micah gives you any trouble, just get one of us and we’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary Mr Escuella, but thank you all the same.”

He nodded, his expression clearly showing that he didn’t believe that all, and left the cabin.

“Looks like Javier’s got his eye on you.” Miss Gaskill said teasingly.

You stared at her with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’m sure he was just being kind.”

“Oh yeah, Javier’s real good at being kind, especially to women.” Miss Jackson added, before bursting into giggles along with Miss Gaskill.

“Leave it alone you two.” Miss Roberts interjected, although she too seemed rather amused. “You’re gonna scare her.”

“If he tries anything he’ll be the one that’s scared.” Sadie said gruffly, which only made Miss Gaskill and Miss Jackson laugh harder.

“Oh Javier’s harmless, really.” Miss Roberts said. “I mean, he likes women well enough, but he’s respectful too.”

“He’d better be.” Sadie glowered at the fire.

“Sadie please, he really was just being friendly.” You said, in an attempt to calm her. Really, you did find the idea of Mr Escuella finding you attractive to be not just laughable, but utterly impossible.

Since when did good looking, well groomed men like him show any interest in ugly girls like you?

-

You were in the middle of hearing Miss Roberts regale the story of Jack’s first steps, which was funny as it was adorable, when you all received another visitor.

At first you didn’t look up, as you were too wrapped up in the story to really care about anything else, until you heard your name being called. When you did look up, you saw that Mr Escuella had returned, and everyone was looking at you.

Immediately you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You had no idea what was going one, but you doubted that it was good. “Is everything alright Mr Escuella?” You asked, trying to remain calm to hide how scared you really were.

“Dutch and Hosea want to talk with you.” He said.

You felt your throat and lungs constrict like in your dream as every worst possible scenario ran through your mind.

“What do they want with her?” Sadie was on her feet and wasted no time in getting to your side, glaring fiercely at Mr Escuella. “She hasn’t done anything!”

“It’s nothing bad.” Mr Escuella said reassuringly, no doubt seeing how badly things could go if he wasn’t careful. “They just want to talk. That’s all.”

Swallowing thickly, you slowly rose to your feet. “A-Alright.”

“I’m coming with her.” Sadie said firmly, still shooting daggers.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Mr Escuella sounded hesitant, and you didn’t blame him, with the way Sadie was looking at him. “Look, she’s going to be fine. Nothing will happen to her, you have my word.”

“Why should the word of a criminal matter to me?” Sadie hissed.

The atmosphere became tense, and you felt your heart pound against your rib cage.

“She won’t be going far.” Mr Escuella said, calm yet firm. “Just a few yards, if that. If anything happens to her, you can do what you like to me.”

Sadie continued to glare.

“She’ll be fine Mrs Adler.” Miss Grimshaw spoke up, clearly seeing that this wasn’t going to go anywhere without outside interference. “Just let her go. She’ll be fine.”

Sadie clenched her jaw, and for a moment you wondered if she was going to argue. But she didn’t.

Tentatively, you approached Mr Escuella. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sadie try to reach for you, but Miss Roberts grabbed her wrist just in time. You tried to remain calm, despite feeling distinctly like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf.

Mr Escuella held the door open for you, and when you were both out in the cold you let him lead you to Mr Matthews and Mr Van Der Linde.

“You’re really not in any trouble, I promise.” He said.

You nodded. “I’m sorry about Sadie.”

To your immense surprise, Mr Escuella chuckled. “Ah, don’t worry about it.” He said, and he sounded very genuine. “Listen, I get where she’s coming from. If I was in her place, I wouldn’t want you out of my sight either.”

An immense wave of relief washed over you, and you were even able to smile. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Mr Escuella smiled. “Don’t worry about it kid.” His voice was kind, almost gentle, and you felt yourself becoming more and more endeared to him.

Just as he said, the house where Mr Matthews and Mr Van Der Linde had moved into wasn’t that far, making Sadie’s concern seem like a major overreaction. And just like before, Mr Escuella held the door open for you.

“Thank you Mr Escuella.”

You stepped inside, and was greeted by a burst of heat. For a moment, you held your breath.

“Here she is Dutch, Hosea.”

The two men looked up, and you saw that they were sitting in front of a contained fireplace, and you were able to quell your fears.

Mr Matthews smiled kindly at you. “Are you cold? You can come closer to the fire if you like.”

You eyed the dancing flames, feeling your heart rate spike. “I’m fine Mr Matthews.”

“Well if you change your mind, just take a seat.” Mr Matthews gestured to an empty chair off in a corner, beside a doorway, where Mr Morgan suddenly appeared.

“Oh, Mr Morgan!” You didn’t know he had taken up residence in the same house as Mr Matthews and Mr Van Der Linde, and seeing him made your face flush from surprise. “How are you?”

“Fine.” He was regarding you curiously. “So, I hear you know Leviticus Cornwall.”

For a moment, you were so wrapped up in your surprise, that you didn’t realize what he had said. “Oh well, I-I wouldn’t say that I know him.” You looked back over at Mr Matthews and Mr Van Der Linde. “Is that what this is about?”

“Yes.” Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes roamed over you, and he had the same look of curiosity as Mr Morgan. “Javier told us you met him once, and that he made quite the impression.”

“I-Well yes, that is true.” You kept your eyes on Mr Van Der Linde, although you couldn’t ignore Mr Morgan’s gaze, or the heat that rose up your neck because of it.

“Now see, that is what interested me.” Mr Van Der Linde smiled in a way that you couldn’t quite describe. “How did that happen?”

You hesitated. “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

“We ain’t goin anywhere.” Mr Morgan was leaning against the doorframe, the collar of his heavy blue coat partially obscuring his face, and making his already striking eyes even more disarming. “So go on.”

“Don’t rush her Arthur.” Mr Matthews gently scolded. “I’m very sorry about him, he forgets how to behave sometimes.”

“Th-there’s no need for apologies Mr Matthews.” You were only just able to tear your gaze away from Mr Morgan to look at Matthews when you spoke, but you still felt his eyes on you.

The feeling of being a rabbit in a wolf’s mouth had returned, but it was...different, somehow. Tinged with something you couldn’t name.

“Well, if you truly wish to know…” You trailed off, looking from Mr Matthews to Mr Van Der Linde and back again.

“We most certainly do.” Mr Van Der Linde replied, looking very eager.

You sighed. You supposed that they were all going to find out eventually, might as well make it now.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 1)

Bait

I have been working on this for a little while now and I’m a few chapters in, I’ve finally plucked up the courage to start posting it. This is an Arthur Morgan x female reader (first person POV) fic that’s going to be pretty long! Its very slow burn, too, so keep that in mind. 

Reader has been a lone wolf for a long time, and intends for it to stay that way. However, she soon realises that having a little company and help from others isn’t so bad. This fic is going to include; violence, swearing, adult themes and no doubt some explicit sexual content down the line. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be some character death at some point too, but don’t worry! Our main boah lives. It’ll have a happy ending :P (This is kind of my own personal fix it fic muddled in with a romance, so yeah). It’s also chock full of spoilers!

I hope you give this a chance and enjoy! I’m going to be tagging every chapter with #ATINK for easy access (hopefully easy, but you know how tumblr is) but I will also be posting this on Ao3 where my username is PorkChop :)

-

There'd been a few times in my life that I thought I might die. That time I'd been real sick, when my whole family had been, I was surprised at my luck when I pulled through. That time Henry got more violent than he usually did and had to be dragged off of me by pa. That time I was chased by that buck, very nearly speared on his antlers before I got a clean shot at his head. I guess all those times though, I'd had a seed of hope in me. Somewhere inside I knew I'd get out of it, and that allowed me to keep my head on straight instead of falling into despair.

This time – feeling dizzy and disoriented, rope burn on my arms and legs from struggling, one pounder of a headache and the taste of blood soaked into the rag wedged in my mouth – I failed to find that hope.

I had no idea where I was, all I could do was scream behind the rag, as muffled as the sound was, it was my only hope. I screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could, pushing through the scratchy pain in my throat. It was night time and I was laying in the middle of a road, that's about all I could tell. I'd been rolling in and out of consciousness for who knows how long, strapped onto the back of a horse and getting hit any time I started hollering. I'd heard snippets of conversations, men talking, and one woman. Something about using me as bait.

I wasn't much of a fisherman but I couldn't see what use I'd be, of course if I hadn't been punched in the head repeatedly I might've understood that it had nothing to do with fishing at all.

It came as a nice surprise when finally my screams didn't get another punch to the face and I seemed to be alone. Who knows what they'd done to me, why they'd taken me from my camp. I was hardly worth robbing, but I guessed it was my weapons they were after. That and perhaps all my food.

I lost track of time with all my yelling and sobbing, I felt on the verge of throwing up with that wet, nasty rag in my mouth pushed so deep it nearly triggered my gag reflex. It felt like I was there for hours when I finally heard hoofs hitting the ground, slowing up before I had time to worry about being trampled. The rider dismounted, running over to me.

“Holy shit!” the person was male and had a raspy voice, I saw his boots but before he reached me I heard a gun being cocked behind me.

In a moment of clarity, I understood what was happening. The people who'd captured me were still around, hiding in the tall grass by the road, and they hadn't hit me when I screamed because that's exactly what they wanted me to do. Bait.

“If you've got any brains you'll give us everything you've got in that satchel. And on your horse,” the female of the group said. I heard the rider sigh.

“You've gotta be kidding me,” he groused. I heard the crunch of his boot on the ground as he started to back away. “I ain't doing this, if you've got any brains you let me walk away from this.”

“I ain't telling you twice,” the woman raised her voice and stepped forwards, she was standing right beside me. I had a terrible feeling that – even though I couldn't see her – she was pointing her gun at the back of my head. I whimpered and sobbed, squirming, ropes cutting into my arms.

“You heard the lady!” One of the other guys yelled, then there was an almighty bang… followed by many more.

I tensed up, burying my face in the dirt in some vain attempt at protecting my head from the roar of gunfire going on above me. It didn't last long, and I waited for the outlaws to loot the poor guy I'd played a part in attracting. Imagine my shock when it was him who stepped over me to loot their bodies instead. I lifted my head, finally managing to look at the guy; tall and lean, long dark hair below his hat, a duster coat that dragged on the floor when he crouched down to the corpses surrounding us.

I cried out to him to get his attention, being largely ignored until he was finished with the bodies. He finally turned to look at me and addressed me with a poisonous look in his dark eyes. It dawned on me that he thought I was one of them. My cries became desperate, I tried to enunciate the words help me with little luck. With a heavy sigh he approached me, rolled me onto my back and pulled the wad of material out of my mouth. Up close, when he saw the blood and the state of my face, his expression softened.

“Please! Please, untie me! Those fuckers, they- they- they-” my mouth was dry and my words came out worse than the town drunk's. My throat was in agony.

“Hey, shh, shut up, calm down,” he hissed, studying me closely. He ran his hands up and down the sides of my body and I flinched and struggled under his touch.

Shit. This guy has just annihilated a whole group of gunslingers. What if he's much, much worse than them?

“For the love of God don't hurt me, I'm not one of them, I didn't mean to bring you in on-”

“Shut up! I'm just checking you ain't armed.”

I held my tongue and stayed still, and breathed a sigh of relief when he seemed satisfied that I wasn't a threat. Though, that did mean that those fuckers had stolen all of my weapons. At least I still had my life…

“I'm gonna untie you, but first, tell me what the hell all that was about.”

“I don't know! I was just out in the woods and they grabbed me. Beat the crap out of me. Next thing I know I'm here. I didn't realise they wanted to use me to lure someone in to rob. I promise I ain't one of them, I don't even know who they are. I just wanna get out of here!”

“What's your name?” he questioned. I told him and he continued to stare at me for a few moments, eyes narrowed. “Alright,” he muttered, then rolled me back onto my stomach. He took a knife to the ropes and freed me.

“Oh, thank you!” I breathed, sitting up and rolling my shoulders, taking a moment to sit and gather myself. I felt dizzy.

A glance around me showed corpses everywhere; I noticed the woman of the group was wearing my clothes. That's when I realised the state of undress I was in – just my underthings – and huddled in on myself.

“You need water?”

“No, I couldn't-” he shoved a canteen at me regardless. I didn't protest and drank, only realising then how much I needed it. I could've kept going when I handed it back to him, but I didn't want to drink all of it.

“You need a ride somewhere?”

His question struck me with an unpleasant, sickly feeling. Where on earth would I go? All of my stuff had been taken by my captors, I had no idea what they'd done with it while I had been out cold. My guns were gone. All of the food I had. My tent, my blankets, my clothes. All of it.

“You got a house? A family?”

“Maybe it would've been better if you just shot me like the rest of them,” I muttered, burying my head in my hands. “I've got nothing. Been living out of a tent for the past year, that was my home and it's gone.”

There was an awkward pause as he just stood there looking at me, he obviously didn't know what to do and I couldn't blame him. Part of me wanted to tell him to go away, leave me alone so I could just sit and cry until I figured out what I was going to do.

“Listen… I'm staying pretty close to here. How 'bout I take you there and you can rest up, lick those wounds for a while.”

“You don't even know me.”

“No, but what kind of man would I be to leave a woman out here stranded, hurt, with no place to go?” he questioned, grabbing my upper arms and helping me up to my feet. My head pain flared with the movement and I groaned, screwing my face up. “Come on. I ain't taking no for an answer.”

“Thank you,” I sighed, letting him guide me over to his horse and lift me onto it.

“Name's John, by the way. John Marston.”

-

John rode me to where he was staying, I was surprised to see that it wasn't a house; it was a campsite of sorts with lots of other people there. As soon as I saw it I began to feel anxious. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be surrounded by a bunch of strangers, one was enough. We were greeted by a lady, stern looking with her hair fashioned into a bun atop her head. She watched me carefully as John helped me down from his horse.

“Miss Grimshaw,” he nodded to her in greeting. “Just had an eventful ride. Found this one not too far away, I think she's in need of a little help. Got herself caught by a bunch of idiots who tried to rob me. I took care of 'em, but she don't have anywhere to go.”

“Well we'd better have her then, come on. Look at you, you're in quite a state,” she seemed a little perturbed by the sight of me. I had no idea what my face looked like but I doubted it was pretty. “I'm Susan. Why don't you come with me and we'll wash you up, get that blood off'a you.”

“John?” I mewled like a little child, asking after its mother. He was a familiar face I wasn't quite ready to be left without.

“You'd better come too, you can tell us more about what happened,” Susan seemed to understand my worries.

“I don't know all that much myself, but sure,” John shrugged, coming along with us as she walked me over to a nearby wagon. As we walked a few people stared, I kept my head down, not enjoying being on display when I was in such a mess.

Susan sat me down on a blanket underneath an awning and wrapped another blanket around my shoulders to cover me. She sent a girl off to fetch a bucket of water, Mary-Beth her name was. While she was away I learned the names of two others, Karen and Tilly, when Susan scolded them for staring. I imagined they weren't particularly happy with me, it was late and they likely wanted to sleep.

Though perhaps not, the sound of a guitar could be heard somewhere else in the camp. Maybe I was just interrupting a pleasant evening. I felt guilty, wrapped up in my head as John relayed what he'd experienced. Mary-Beth came back with the bucket of water, and Susan kneeled down in front of me.

“Hold still,” she said, holding my chin gently with one hand as she carefully cleaned my face with a wet washcloth.

She wiped blood from around my nose, the corners of my mouth, my forehead, my hairline. It was dark but I imagined the water turning a rusty orange as she rinsed the cloth. She cleaned a few scratches on my arms; though I knew they weren't from my ordeal. They were merely hunting wounds, marred by tree branches.

“Not as bad as I feared. You looked much worse with all that blood; you got a couple of black eyes but your nose ain't crooked, your teeth are all there. I think you'll be fine.”

“Thank you.”

“I'll go and explain to Dutch,” John said, getting up from his spot on a wooden box next to me. I watched as he left, then dropped my eyes to the ground. I didn't know John much better than anyone else, but I still felt nervous without his presence. It'd been a long time since I'd had any company whatsoever. It was daunting.

“How you doing, uhh, what was your name again?” Mary-Beth took John's seat. I told her my name without looking up. “I heard John say you got kidnapped, or something?”

“I did. I'm honestly not sure what happened, my mind's still all foggy. I hope they didn't knock all the sense out of me,” I mumbled, and the girl laughed a little, then apologised. “They got me this morning… I think. I've been knocked out for most of it. I was out pulling down my camp in the woods and they came out of nowhere, just bashed me on the head, grabbed all my stuff and took me away. I don't remember all that much, like I said, I've been out.”

Mary-Beth, Susan, Karen and Tilly all stayed near me, listening. I figured I owed them an explanation since they'd been so kind to me.

“I ended up out layin’ on the road. I thought they'd left me for dead so I hollered as much as I could. John turned up and, well, you heard him. I don't intend on intruding for long, I just needed somewhere to stay and figure things out.”

“What about your family?” Tilly questioned.

“I don't have one. Ma and pa are long gone. My brother got himself killed last year. Since then I've been on my own, living off the land, sleeping in a tent.”

“You’re homeless?” Karen asked. I felt a little on the spot so I looked up at her, meeting her gaze.

“Ain't you? Only difference is you've got more wagons and friends here.”

“Can't argue with that,” she shrugged.

“I couldn't afford to keep up with the loan repayments once my brother Henry was gone. The bank took the house and that was that.”

“I'm sorry about your brother,” Mary-Beth said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Don't be. That guy put me in worse states than this on more than one occasion. He was violent. That's what got him killed in the end; started a bar brawl down in Blackwater with a bunch of fellers he couldn't handle. Whole place broke out, I damn near got swept up in it. I probably would've died with him if it weren't for a gentlemen who helped me out of there; I was three sheets to the wind, could barely stand,” I explained with a dry laugh.

“You got a habit of needing to be saved by men?” Karen snorted.

“Karen,” Susan warned.

I sighed and rubbed at my temples then looked up at Susan. “You mind if I sleep here?”

“Of course not. There's some more blankets up on that wagon if you need them.”

“Thank you for your kindness. I hope to be out of your hair shortly.”

“Nonsense. Us folk are no strangers to helping those who need it. Rest up now.”

[saintcheesus]

If you're still accepting prompts, maybe John wingmanning for Arthur to help him get with Charles. Thanks in advance if you decide to write this

I love this nonny! 

------

I am convinced that Charles has taken to chopping wood in front of me solely to drive me mad. He started taking his shirt off just last week, on account of this damn heat...

“Take your shirt off too, if you hot then. 

Arthur slammed his journal shut faster than John had ever seen. John laughed at how red in the face Arthur became, it suited him better than that sourpuss one he was always sporting. 

“Goddammit, Marston! Why you standing here for?” 

“You must have been awful distracted to not realize my shadow been over you since you was writing. When you gonna sketch him shirtless?” 

Arthur grumbled and looked away. 

“I already did...” he mumbled shortly after. John smiled at that and sat down next to his big brother. Just like Abigail showed him, he snatched the book from Arthur so deftly that by the time he reacted to the air in his hands, John had already managed to sneak a quick peek of the rough sketch. It wasn’t for longer than a few seconds, unfortunately, because Arthur was just as quick taking it back. John was also gifted a swift but firm slap to the back of the head. He thought he was twelve again, but just like then, he shook it off. 

“Why don’t you show him the sketch?” 

“Right, suppose I’ll just mosey up to him and say something foolish like, ‘Hey Charles come look at this sketch I have of you while I watched you chop wood for an hour!’ I’m sure he’ll be real keen on that, John. You moron.” 

“Sure, but then y’all get to chatting and then who knows what could happen from there.” 

John snuck a glance at his brother and his heart twinged a bit at the sight of someone he idolized (not like he’ll ever tell Arthur) for being the gang’s hero of sorts, look so helpless. 

“I ain’t good at talking to folks, John. My best skills is fighting and shooting. Ain’t much room for talk during those.” 

“Arthur you was nearly married.” 

He was considering mentioning Eliza too, but Arthur still shuts down hard whenever there might be room for her to be mentioned. 

“Mary’s different...she’s--” 

“A woman.” John finished. Arthur’s resigned nod and sad face was the answer. 

“What if Charles don’t...what if he don’t like men?” 

“What if he does?” 

“What if he don’t like me?” 

That sounded like it physically hurt Arthur to think that way, and John was not about to let Arthur doubt himself into not asking Charles. He wasn’t sure why Arthur forgot about that period before Mary where he fucked. Men and women alike. It was a short window of time but Arthur still owes John favors for covering for him all the times he snuck his lovers into camp. 

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. It’s like you said, John. I was nearly married, but I ain’t because she ain’t want me. She weren’t even the first to say that.” 

John never really cared much for Mary, and hearing how sad and insecure that break-up made him just makes him mad all over again. 

“I ain’t good enough for him.” 

John didn’t mean to have the conversation take this turn, Arthur was clearly upset enough that he sighed and left his spot on the grass. John watched as Arthur schlepped away to his tent. John turned his attention back to Charles, who had just taken a break from his chore. He was wiping sweat off his brow, his eyes caught John’s. He smiled and waved, John was more than happy to return the gesture. The topless man then walked over to him and joined him in Arthur’s old spot. 

“How are you, John?” 

“Reckon I could be better. Getting a bit restless, I’m probably going to head out soon.” 

Charles hummed. John suddenly had an idea. 

“Charles do you want to go hunting with me? I saw a bunch of rabbits not too far from here, and deer too, they was making babies all winter so there’s plenty of them.” 

Charles laughed and nodded. 

“Sure, I’ll grab my gear and meet you at the horses.” 

John tipped his head and waited for Charles to leave before darting over to Arthur, who still looked as miserable as ever, scribbling away in his journal. He was drawing Cain.  

“Arthur! Arthur let’s go hunting!” 

“I don’t want to, go away!” 

“I want you to come with me.” 

“Always nice to try somethings for ourselves, I reckon.” He deadpanned 

John was getting irritated, but he wasn’t going to stop. 

“Please Arthur? We ain’t really done much with each other outside of missions. You might not miss my company so much but some times...well...you know...” 

Arthur sighed loudly and John smiled, knowing that he won. Arthur put his journal away and then put his hat on. 

“Come on then, the sun’s about ready to start setting and ain’t no use hunting in the dark.” 

John was as giddy as a child and practically ran over to his horse. Charles was already waiting there. John wished he had a camera to capture the priceless face that he had when he saw Arthur walking over with him. It was sheer delight, and John nearly pummeled his brother for thinking that he wasn’t interested. When John looked at Arthur, the man’s face was pale as all hell. He had his lasso on-hand in case Arthur was thinking about booking it back to his tent. Instead, he shook it off and smiled at Charles. 

“Morning, Charles.” 

John wanted to laugh so bad. Arthur sounded like a love-sick teenager, he wasn’t even this bad with Mary! He even batted his eye lashes at him! Charles chuckled and placed a hand on his shoulder. He rubbed it with his thumb. His thumb! John thought he was going to combust! He knew Arthur had a penchant for being stupid but he didn’t think Charles had a bit of the fool gene in him too. 

“John didn’t tell me you were coming with us.” 

Arthur giggled as he anxiously fiddled with his horse, Artie. She was a good girl.

“It’s funny...he ain’t tell me neither.” 

Arthur’s eyes flicked over to John’s and the man knew he was going to get his ass beat the moment they came back to camp. It would be worth it, he decided. 

Charles smoothly mounted Taima, and patted her gently. John could have sworn he saw Arthur swoon at the sight. This was bad, this was the worst he’d ever seen someone. He was definitely telling Tilly and Hosea about this. 

“If I had known, I would have dressed better.” 

John had never heard Arthur snort while laughing ever, but today was full of firsts for the both of them. The cowboy’s face was beet-red as he nervously laughed. Maybe John should have told him beforehand, but he didn’t want the man getting cold feet and never come. Charles started riding off, leaving the two brothers to follow. 

“Did John tell you what we were going to hunt?” Charles started the conversation. Arthur seemed to have calmed down, that was good. 

“No, did he tell you?” 

They were talking about him like he wasn’t right there. They really were made for each other. 

“Rabbits.” 

“Yeah cause y’all about to be fucking like them”, John thought. 

“I think I know what he’s talking about, there’s a clearing in the forest that’s just a bit further out from camp. We could spend the night there, since it’s already near sundown.” 

Charles flashed another smile at him and nodded. 

“Sounds like a good idea. You brought your bow?” 

Arthur pulled it from his horse’s holster. 

“Good. You’re really good with that thing. Didn’t even need to really teach you.” 

Arthur tipped his head downward so that you couldn’t really make out his face, but John was next to him and could see that he was grinning from ear-to-ear. It really warmed John’s heart to see him so touched. Only lover he had that was nearly as kind to him as Charles was Eliza. People weren’t truly kind to Arthur, very few were. John wasn’t very kind to him either, not after he deserted him for a year. But he was trying to make it up, Charles would be good for Arthur. Arthur just seemed so lonely most days and melancholic, besides himself, Hosea, and Sadie, Charles was the only other one to try and make him feel good about himself. Of course this is all considering the fact that they both love-sick buffoons who needed one non love-sick buffoon like John Marston to help them get together. It was working so far. 

They finally got to that clearing that Arthur mentioned and along the way, they saw rabbits, deer, and even a few turkeys. They were definitely going to have decent meals coming their way. Charles and Arthur were both dismounting when John whistled for Charles to come over to him. 

“Why are you still on your horse? Come down, set up camp with us.” 

“I’ll catch up with y’all later on, I think there was a...a...legendary rabbit up that way. It’s best if we split up to cover more ground, and y’all are better hunters than me so if you stay here you’ll catch all these critters.” 

Charles crossed his arms and smirked. He looked like he caught John’s drift but then maybe Charles just always looked charming. He exhaled and nodded after quiet deliberation. 

“Alright, but I’m telling Arthur before he starts to worry after you.” 

Before John could stop him, Charles turned and shouted, “John’s heading further up, he’ll come back tonight!” 

Arthur shouted back, “If you get into any trouble shoot your gun twice so we can come get you, you hear?” 

“Sure.” 

“You got water? Food? Bullets?” 

“Yes, Arthur!” 

“Don’t come back no later than noon neither, can’t have you running off on us again.” 

Arthur did this when he was a kid and he’s still doing it now. He was grown! He was twenty-six he knew how to pack for a hunting trip! He huffed and began walking away from the two of them. He found a patch of grass on a hill not more than five minutes away from them. When he got to the top he managed to coax his horse to lay down and have a nap with him. When they woke it was well past mid-night. Tiredly, he and his horse trudged back to the campsite where he found that the fire was still lit. He also realized that there was only two tents pitched up instead of three. He went to walk over to the second tent but he kicked an empty can of beans, and Artie got spooked because of it, she huffed two strong gusts of wind in his face. She also woke Arthur up. He came out of the tent with just his pants thrown on haphazardly. When he saw John standing there he put his hands on his hips. 

“You been gone all that time and ain’t bring nothing back? Ain’t you the one that wanted to hunt?”  

“He was a slippery bastard.” 

“Shut up, I see the drool marks on your face, idiot.” 

John crossed his arms. Arthur started to let up. 

“If you was sleeping then you wasn’t eating. Come on, Charles and I made a plate for you.” 

John realized that there were at least ten rabbits, two turkeys, and a buck who was big feller. His stomach growled when Arthur placed the plate in his hands. The food was still warm. It was beans, corn, and turkey. Much better than anything Pearson ever cooked. While he was scarfing it down, Charles came out of the same tent Arthur did, also half-naked. He was yawning while he walked over to Arthur and kissed the man on his bare shoulder. 

“Why did you leave?” 

“Because John came back and nearly let my horse die of shock.” 

Accused man swallowed his food and said very sternly, “I did not!” 

Charles woke up after hearing John’s voice and it was his turn to blush. Arthur’s composure was much better than earlier today. He was smiling at John teasingly. 

“Yes, you’ll be glad to know your little plan worked.” 

“Do I gotta leave camp again to let y’all finish or are you done?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes and waved his little brother away as he turned to go back into the tent. 

“Shut up and go back to bed after you finish eating, that tent’s pitched over there for you. Charles and I will see you in the morning because I ain’t about to let you return to camp empty-handed.” 

Charles followed behind Arthur dutifully as they went back into their tent. Once the camp got quiet again all John could do was childishly mock him before doing exactly as he was told. 

At least Arthur got his man, though. 

[darkworkcourier]

sometimes u just gotta come to terms with the fact that you want to be in a marston/escuella sandwich (AND THANK YOU AHHHH)

also [bangs pots and pans together] nerds! in! love! i mean it! this is so cheesy in parts that it’s ridiculous!!

and this is p much a threesome at this point, but with everyone going p slow and learning about each other. yaaaay for communication!

- - -

“He’s not gonna show up,” you say, matter-of-fact.

Javier sighs through his nose and glances out through the curtains again, peering through the dark and watching the mud-slick road in front of the hotel. It’s raining hard, drumming a constant drone on the roof. You watch as the gaslight outside is warped in the raindrops running down the windowpanes. “He will,” he insists, and not for the first time.

What you don’t discuss is how nervous both of you suddenly feel. You see it in the tense line of Javier’s shoulders, and in the way he looks out the window, craning his neck. He’s trying not to fidget too much, but you’ve noticed the half dozen ways he’s tried to occupy his hands. Whittling on some wooden object that hasn’t really taken a definite shape yet, cutting up an apple into neat, clean slices, and even trying to harness some kind of focus to read a dime novel you picked up at the general store. 

As for you, it’s not much better. You’ve taken to the bed--possibly the largest bed you’ve ever been in--having napped off a long, rainy afternoon. The wallpaper on your side of the bed has been thoroughly studied, and you’ve had your turn with the dime novel as well. For the past few hours, it’s been nap, read, study the walls, and repeat. Honestly, it’s been a waste of a beautiful bedroom and a massive, comfortable bed.

Javier makes a discontented noise before closing the curtains again and striding over to the bed. He’s stripped down to an undershirt and his pants, suspenders hanging down from his hips. At the end of the bed, he shimmies out of his pants and kicks them aside before collapsing onto his side of the bed with a defeated grunt. “Gave him the room number and everything,” he says, more to the mattress than you.

“Well, even he couldn’t count on the rain from goddamn Revelations. Cut him some slack,” you say, reaching over to stroke his back. 

He sighs again and turns his head in your direction, body still prone. There’s a pinch in his brow as he stares at the wall. “You don’t think we read this wrong, do you?”

“‘Course not. I mean, unless you needed to be reminded that he got himself off to us fuckin’ in the woods.”

His mouth quirks up on one side. 

The two of you lay side by side, and you’re sure that your minds are occupied with the same thing; John Marston, and what he has to be thinking right about now. 

Both of you made your offer pretty clear. First, at the cabin, when Javier asked John to join you. And again, later at camp when John wouldn’t keep eye contact with you and kept stammering his way through conversation like a nervous schoolboy. That time, you rested one hand on his shoulder while Javier smiled. Stay with us, you had told him. We want you to. We’re sure.

Granted, he had kept stammering, and turned a new shade of red that was almost impressive to see. He hadn’t said no, but as both you and Javier are well aware of, he hadn’t agreed either. Regardless, before you and Javier left for the hotel, Javier had told him where the pair of you were headed, and heavily insinuated on the room number. Javier had reported that John had, again, blushed a fascinating color and had said the word ‘okay’ about seven different ways, each with a different intonation. Once more, not a yes. And once more, still not a no.

But it’s left that part of your relationship open. You’ve confessed that mutual attraction, and it feels like one of those point-of-no-return situations. Even if John outright rejected you (and he didn’t!), it would never quite be the same. 

Javier stretches an arm out so that it’s draped over your waist, and at the same time, lets out a low, frustrated noise from somewhere in the back of his throat. 

“We wasted a whole day on this,” he laments.

“And a really nice bed.”

As if now suddenly aware of this fact, Javier tilts his head up to take in the four poster bed, the plush brocade pillows, and the soft sheets, invitingly cream-colored in the lamplight. “Mierda,” he sighs, his head falling back so that his forehead is pressed back into the mattress. 

You laugh and scoot over to be closer to him, pressing yourself up against his side and kissing his cheek. “Not too late,” you remind him, stroking one hand up and down the divot of his spine. “We still have another--” Cue serendipitous look up at the mantle clock. “--eight hours until we have to leave.”

He peeks back up at you, one eye bright through his hair. “Eight hours, huh?”

“Ocho, indeed.”

“No idea what we could do for eight hours.”

You let out a thoughtful hum. “I have a few suggestions.”

He smiles. “I’m all ears.”

He doesn’t need those much, considering the fact that the next thing you do is nudge at his shoulder to get him to lay on his side. Then, you kiss him deeply, one hand rising to press against his neck, thumb following the ridge of his jaw. It’s the sweetest kind of kissing there is, deep and loving with absolutely no expectations. You keep it slow and almost rhythmic, punctuated only with soft sounds of your mouths pressing against each other, and the low sighs and hums exchanged between you. 

What follows feels as natural as breathing. He gently guides you onto your back, kissing you all the way through the motion. At least you’ve already shucked yourself down to the most basic of underclothes, so he doesn’t have to remove much to get you naked from the waist down. Then, his hand is between your legs, working you up in slow strokes and practiced motions.

You’ve read other sorts of novels--usually the sort you can’t typically buy in a general store--where the characters have some sort of ecstatic expulsion or some other violent expression of their pleasure. The way they’re written typically makes it sound like a painful act. You’d like very much to send a few letters of correction, especially as Javier’s fingers work at you, pressing and rubbing against all the right places, knowing your body the way he knows the strings of an instrument. Play it just so, and it sings.

He’s holding himself up on his right elbow while his left hand plays at you in all sorts of magnificent ways. When he leans back, you open your eyes to see him looking down at you, eyes as warm as candlelight, with a particular kind of happiness that softens any hard line on his face.

Those books only cover the feeling of love so well, and even they don’t accurately capture what you see in Javier at that moment.

Your orgasm comes as a slow, steady roll, like a motion of the tide. Short, shallow waves rise up in you, bright and warm, quickening your pulse and making you moan without a thought as to the sounds you’re making. Javier happily takes them into himself, lowering down to kiss you again, nuzzling his nose against yours, brushing your foreheads. He says something in Spanish, something that you think means, “Let me hear you.”

You’re all too happy to oblige.

When the waves quicken and take on a new depth, you tilt your head back into the pillows, shutting your eyes. The sounds that rise out of you aren’t yours to control. Javier plays them out of you, kissing you through them, down to the vibrations in your throat, down to that divot in your collarbones, until his head is pressed to your chest, listening to you. 

Your hips rise off the bed, and you shudder and sigh. Beside you, Javier makes a hum of contentment before leaning up to kiss you again.

Then, from the other side of the room, a soft and gravelly, “Oh.”

It really is a fine indicator of how occupied you and Javier were with each other. If John knocked, neither of you heard it. You certainly didn’t hear the door open. But the two of you look up at the same time, at John Marston standing there, door shut at his back, looking like a lost child who wandered into the wrong place. He’s absolutely drenched, lamplit water still dripping from the brim of his hat. He wrings his gloved hands in front of him, unsure what to do with them otherwise. And, to your delight, he’s flushed clear up to his ears, visible even in the dim slants of light.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt nothin’,” he says, lowering his head.

“You didn’t,” you reply. Honestly, you have no idea what to say to him in the first place. There’s only a handful of ways to address a man walking in on lovemaking that doesn’t involve him, and historically, those reactions haven’t been favorable. But you do grin, looking up at Javier, his own expression a cross between relief, delight, and some pinch of hesitation. “Certainly didn’t stop Javier.”

“No, I... I suppose I didn’t.” 

Poor John looks like he’d enjoy nothing better than finding a way through the floorboards, clear out of sight. Clearly, you need to do or say something to change that. “More than welcome to change out of those clothes, Mr. Marston,” you say, leaning back against the pillows. “An’ we got plenty of room on this bed if you’re feeling either enterprising or exhausted.”

John bobs his head like a damn horse, surprise still a bright and open thing on his face. That’s certainly one of the things you’ve learned about him over time; he can’t hide an emotion worth a damn.

“Bit of both, actually,” he says, and you’re pleased with his honesty.

You smile and nudge Javier with your elbow. “I’d be inclined to help him out but, well...” You gesture down to your rather stark half-nakedness, causing Javier to grin. “Mind filling in for me in the interim?”

“Mmm, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” he replies, kissing you on the cheek before he edges his way off the bed. Then, he’s standing there in front of John who looks as awkward as can be, blushing like a new bride, dripping with cold rain water. 

But all Javier has to do is pull the hat off his head, setting it on a wicker chair pressed up against the wall. It seems to set off some sort of reaction in John, like he was waiting for a sign that he hadn’t walked into the wrong situation, that the two of you hadn’t set up a grand prank to laugh about later. He’s suddenly surging up to Javier, catching his lips in a kiss that looks painful, his hand on the side of Javier’s face, keeping him still. 

“Damn,” you whisper, but you’re certain neither of them hear you.

You know Javier has a bit of a depository inside of him of feelings for John. He’s done a decent job of labeling them, sorting them with you by his side, trying to figure out if what he was feeling couldn’t just be chalked up to some sort of summer-idyllic infatuation. Watching him kiss John, you’re pleased to know that it wasn’t, just as you insisted. Once he’s rearranged the kiss to something more comfortable, he kisses John with a fiery sort of passion, made of something he’s been kindling for a long while.

And John-- Oh, he is a delight to watch. Part of him reminds you of a colt, all loose-limbed and clumsy, trying to figure himself out in regards to the world around him. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, and every motion telegraphs like a mad scramble. He’s impatient, a pot right at the time of boiling over, wanting everything at once but not knowing how to go about getting it. His hands are on Javier’s waist, up on his chest, tracking again to go underneath his shirt. 

You have to remind yourself that there was a time that you were like that as well. You and Javier didn’t know each other well enough yet, unlike this practiced symphony with a few variations that you do nowadays. John hasn’t been a part of this, as much as you’ve wished he had been. But you have time. Lord above, you certainly hope he agrees that you do. 

Javier reaches up and tugs at John’s belt loops, tugging him backwards in the direction of the bed. 

You clear you throat, and both men pause only to look at you in their periphery. “Clothes off, please,” you say, making a quick gesture over John’s entire being. “You’re a little... damp.”

John only pulls away enough from Javier to take quick stock of himself before a sheepish expression comes over him. “Oh, yeah,” he says.

Javier laughs and helps him out of his soaked coat, tossing it over the back of another chair while John yanks his boots off, and then his pants. Your first thought is romantic, watching him pull his clothes off with Javier’s help, allowing himself to become vulnerable and naked in front of you, as much of a show of trust to you as it is a show of trust to him as well. 

Your second thought is much more practical. You might need to add another day on the hotel room, if only to send to get John’s laundry done.

Once all his clothes are off, and Javier’s shirt as well, he stands awkwardly beside the bed, once again unsure of how to arrange himself. His hands hover in front of his half-erect cock, like an only slightly ashamed Adam. Javier is behind him, a reassuring hand on his back. 

“You sure?” John asks, and you feel that the question is directed at both of you.

“Of course,” you say, at the same time Javier says, “Absolutely.”

Coltish, again, as John slowly places a knee on the bed. He’s a full grown man, but he moves like he’s just grown into his arms and legs. You move aside on the bed to let him take up the middle, and Javier follows suit to bracket John in. He stretches out beside John, one hand splayed out over John’s stomach. “You wanna be on the edge?” Javier asks.

John blinks. “Huh?”

“In case you want to leave or something. Don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped, y’know?”

It’s the kind of consideration that makes your heart feel full and warm, and you smile at Javier over John’s bewilderedness. 

“I... I think I’m okay. Pretty sure.” John then swallows hard, glancing between both of you. “I’ve just never--”

“Done this?” you ask.

He nods, and almost looks ashamed, like it’s standard procedure for a couple to offer to share their bed so openly. You turn your smile to him, and lean your head down to rest against his bare shoulder. You can feel his breath stirring at your hair, can hear the slight hitch in it. 

“Leave it to us,” Javier tells him. He reaches up to stroke at John’s hair, still wet from the storm. “You tell us if somethin’ bothers you, and we fix it. Easy as that.”

“And if you don’t want to keep going,” you add. 

John makes a soft noise through his nose and looks at Javier. “What kinda things, exactly?”

This is Javier’s forte, making an easy segue between talking and doing. You watch the hand on John’s stomach lower to the thatch of dark pubic hair, his fingers brushing over John’s stiffened cock. “How we touch you,” Javier says. He’s being deliberately gentle; too gentle, all teasing. “You tell us how hard we go, or if we need to back off.”

John certainly doesn’t complain when Javier takes him fully in hand, pumping slowly to get him fully erect. If anything, he seems to have been stunned into silence. Happily stunned, you notice.

Not to be outdone, you tilt your head up to kiss John. That’s been something of a fantasy of yours, albeit a tame one. You kiss him rather chastely at first, something like assurance. His lips are softened from the water, and his motions are tentative and testing. Then, once he seems to get a sense of your rhythm, he deepens the kiss.

Javier kisses you in a way that reminds you of fire contained in a jar, like everything he feels for you is concentrated down to this small point, not unlike the light of a lantern. John doesn’t bother to contain how he feels, once he’s sure that he won’t be punished for feeling it. You saw that a bit with how he kissed Javier, passionate and scattered all at once. He kisses you much of the same way, hard as iron one moment, soft as silk the next. You feel his lust at the same time that you feel his quiet fascination with the two of you. He isn’t sure where to place these things, or how to combine them, so he engages in both. 

John suddenly lets out a soft gasp against your lips, and you open one eye to see Javier move in your periphery. He’s gone from John’s side to straddling himself over John’s legs, his head dipped low to take John’s cock in his hand, and then as you watch, his mouth. 

You know as well as he does that you won’t take things too far tonight. As much as you’re both close to John on a friendship level, you don’t know all of his boundaries yet. You haven’t investigated that whole map of himself the way you’re experts on each other. He wants you, that much you’re sure of. If you were different people, you might try to take all his pleasure at once, in one mind-numbing marathon session that would last the whole night. But both you and Javier want this to last. You want to bait the hook with promises of what you’re capable of together, so that John knows he can trust you, knows you’re open to love him, and knows that there’s more to you than just what you’ve shown. In that time, you can learn about him as well.

Tonight, it’s Javier licking at his cock, mouthing at him, letting his fingers learn those intricate pathways of pleasure that are unique to John.

And tonight, it’s you kissing him, letting your hands roam and allowing him to touch you as well. You feel hard ridges of new scar tissue, and low, thin dents of the old ones. You feel his nervous, excited heart drumming against his ribs as you kiss your way down his body, and then back up to taste the sweat and rainwater on his skin. His hands graze over you as well, calloused fingers making long, unsteady trails on your arms, on your back, over your shoulders, and across your chest. At one point, he twitches and rests his head against your shoulder, shuddering and sighing as Javier takes him deep into his mouth, swallowing him down.

You reach up and stroke John’s hair, smiling at him and at Javier, who looks all too pleased with himself. “You like that?” you ask John. He nods against you and you laugh. “You ever thought about him doing this to you before?”

A boundary check. You and Javier enjoy talking your way through sex. It excites you, it excites him. You tell each other your fantasies, and have made good on plenty of them. It’s something you’ve considered with John, not knowing if he would enjoy it or not.

Evidently, he does. He sighs against your shoulder and nods. 

You keep going, enjoying both his sounds and the wet sounds of Javier’s mouth sucking him off. “That night, when you were watching us at the cabin, did you imagine he was fucking you?”

A choked-off noise. You feel his hips buck, and it’s only through intuition that Javier instinctively pins John down.

“Or did you imagine fucking me?”

Choked off again, then a moan. He nods, shakes his head, nods again. You understand, and you smile like a beatific little saint, pretending to be ignorant of how Javier bobs his head, makes the most debaucherous noises that you’ve ever delighted in.

“Both?” you ask.

“Y-e-esss,” John croaks. The word slides through his rough voice beautifully, and you hope you hear plenty more of it.

Self-indulgent as it may be, you press on as you gently tuck some of John’s hair behind his ear. Then, you trail your hand down his face, trying to commit his expression to memory. “How many ways did you imagine this, I wonder,” you continue, admiring the look of hazy wonder on John’s face. “When you grabbed your cock, did you pretend it was one of us?”

He nods, now frantic. It’s amazing how quickly he’s unraveled, and yet not so surprising at all.

“Javier’s mouth, or maybe mine,” you say, and it’s as lighthearted and casual as a conversation after Sunday dinner. “Maybe both of us. Wouldn’t that be nice? Working at you together, sucking you off, licking you, exploring every inch of you.”

“Yes, yes,” John breathes. His hips buck again, and he curls against you, shuddering. 

All that’s left to wonder is how long he’s wanted the two of you as badly as you’ve wanted him.

He comes quick, and almost without warning. Almost is the term that’s operative, because he makes a beautiful series of sounds, and you realize that Javier’s quickly learning how to play John as well. John’s gasping and moaning, twisting away from you before turning back towards you like he isn’t sure where to go. Then, he stiffens up and groans low in his throat, a raw scrape of sound that fills the room to each corner.

Javier leans back but keeps pumping John with his hand. John spends over both of them, over his lower torso in long streaks, over Javier’s hand which only helps Javier jerk him off a little quicker. Eventually, it’s too much for John, and he twists towards you again, gasping and moaning like he’s dying. Javier looks beyond pleased, nodding in a way that seems self-satisfactory before he slides off the end of the bed to get a towel.

The cleanup is fairly quick, as Javier’s more eager to get back in bed with the two of you. You help him wipe John off, and you enjoy the dazed, happy look on John’s face now while Javier throws the towel on the pile of clothes that absolutely have to be washed now. At the very least, you get another day at the hotel out of it, presumably with more preoccupation than you’ve had over the last day. 

Javier sprawls out beside John, one arm draped over his waist and the lower half of his face pressed against his shoulder, kissing a trail downward. 

After a quiet moment, John tiredly looks between the two of you. “That was...” He blinks, and looks up at the darkened ceiling thoughtfully. “I don’t even know what to call it.”

“Nothing yet,” Javier tells him with a grin. “You don’t have anything to compare it to.”

John has just enough energy to look a little indignant. “I’m not a virgin, Javier,” he retorts.

“No, no. I mean, you don’t have anything to compare it to with us,” Javier amends, and presses another kiss to the side of John’s neck. 

“Wha--”

You take the reins on this one, which makes Javier’s smile grow where it’s pressed to John’s skin. “What he means, John, is that we want to do more of this with you,” you say. One of your hands lowers down to brush over half the V of his hips, and he gives a minute shudder while looking amazed at his own reaction. “If you’d let us,” you add.

“It only gets better from here,” Javier says.

John almost looks mystified, but the unmistakable look of pleasure crosses his face and he nods slowly. “Sure. I-- I mean, I don’t know how to do all of... this,” he says, loosely gesturing to the three of you. “But, yeah, I could... I could do this again.”

“Una y otra vez,” Javier says, smiling up at you like you’re sharing a secret.

You are, except it doesn’t feel like much of a secret at all.

You tilt your head down again to kiss John, more or less a pleasant brush of your lips over his. Then, you say, “And we’ve got another seven hours to do just that.”

[captain039]

A true hero

Arthur Morgan x reader

Summary: You worked in a bar well worked more like sold yourself, your mother being in that business gave you no choice saying you were worthless and only used you for your 'pretty face'. A man shows up one night catching your interest but not his.

Warnings: Prostitution, light swearing, beatings.

It smelt of smoke and whiskey as you walked down the stairs your red dress flowing behind you. Your daddy owned this saloon for over 50 years and his daddy before. Your momma ran the business with him till he passed away and your mother grew cold and hired girls to keep the business going. It disgusted you these poor woman having to do this to survive. You had no choice your mother was strict and used you like every body else did. Men always eyed you and drooled, they paid though you guess it was a good thing and left tips every now and then.

It was the middle of spring as you stood by the stairs fanning yourself gently watching the rich people come through. Saint Denis the land of dreams apparently, until you see what's underneath. You smiled at everyone putting on a show when a man walked in head down making everyone murmur. You frowned slightly seeing his stubble under his hat and strong jaw. He ordered some whiskey and sat in the corner as everyone continued their task. You felt someone grab you by the hip spinning you around into a chest. You giggled it off running your hands up the mans chest acting.

"Hello sugar" He purred moving to grab your ass, you gasped smiling it off wishing you could punch him.

"How much?" he whispered nipping your ear. You really didnt want to you looked up seeing your mother glaring as you gulped.

"5" You whispered he smirked waving some money in your face.

"How bout 10 and I get to do anything" He purred again, you nodded as he smirked in victory taking you upstairs. You were shaking you dont know why though the man seemed off but you could never deny a customer. He started kissing you as soon as you got through the door running his hands up and down before pushing you to the bed roughly. You gasped as he smirked taking his belt off turning it into a whip. You froze not another one like this.

"Roll over" You could only listen and cry as he had his way. The door broke though the mysterious man standing there before knocking the guy out by bashing his head on the bed side table. You let out a whimper, your back was saw so was your ass.

"Ma'am?" his deep voice called you thanked him quietly sitting up hissing in pain.

"I'm fine thank you sir" You wiped your eyes quickly running out. You gripped your sink as you washed your face your makeup ruined from crying. Your mother barged in anger spread across her face, she slapped you twice .

"You are a disappointment!" She yelled storming out huffing. You held your cheek more tears flowing as you got dressed looking at the mark's on your back. You were forced out again the next night praying no one would want you. The man showed up again his eyes scanning till they landed on you, you quickly looked away as a man walked up handing you a five dollar notes. You grabbed his hand gently leading him upstairs when a hand grabbed your wrist.

"The hell?" The man growled.

"She ain't for sale" the mysterious man said his eyes cold looking at the man.

"I paid" He growled.

"I just said, she ain't for sale" He punched the guy sending him running as he brought you to sit down.

"Sir, I-i well need customers my ma will get mad and well" You sighed talking quietly.

"Your forced to do this?" he questioned you nodded.

"My Ma" you whispered sadly, he scoffed leaning back into the chair.

"She gave you that?" he asked pointing to the redness on your face.

"Yes sir" you said quietly ashamed.

"What's your name sir?" you questioned getting off the subject.

"Arthur, Arthur Morgan" He said softly.

"Y/n Y/l/n" you gently shook his hand when your mother stormed to you, you quickly got up realizing what you had done when Arthur stood in front of you.

"Mrs. Y/l/n, your daughter is doing her job" He growled making her scoff.

"Like hell she is you gonna pay or not? other wise I'll make you leave" She growled Arthur put his arms across his chest.

"Miss Y/n is keeping me company last time I checked it's in the job" He said coldly making your mother huff.

"Mr. I'm telling you to watch it that is my daughter she listens to me" She hissed but he seemed unfazed.

"Mrs, your daughter was whipped yesterday by some animal, you dont care I'm pretty sure its happen before by the way she handled it and also hitting her into submission is cowardly" He sneered a smirk on his face, your mother scoffed stomping her foot.

"Out of my saloon" She yelled causing everyone to look.

"Miss Y/n?" he held out his arm to you making you frown.

"Will you accompany me?" he asked smiling to you. You nodded holding his arm as you walked down the stairs your mother yelling. You got outside the breeze hitting your face it's been so long you smiled looking to the moon.

"Come on miss" Arthur said getting onto his horse. You rode with him unsure where but you felt safe.

"How would you like to stay with me? I live with my best friend well more like a brother he has a wife a child I'm sure they'll welcome you" You froze at the offer.

"Like live?" he nodded glancing back to you.

"Mr Marston and Mrs Marston would like you I reckon so would little Jack" He said.

"We got another gal who comes by Sadie shes nice tough son of a bitch though" he snickered shaking his head.

"Wouldnt I be a burden?" you asked.

"Burden? hell no that life you were living ain't no way to live, come see the world" He said he sounded so amazing all these dreams. You could only nod smiling as he ride to your new home.

beechers hope by Blackwater it was nice and open the home was beautiful. Abigail was lovely greeting you with hospitality and kindness, Jack was a little shy and John shook your hand nodding as respect. You got along very well they made a space for you it felt unusual to have a home. Abigail started to be like a sister and John well he was the annoying uncle or brother. Arthur though he was your hero knight in shining armor in a sense. He would always smile at you, offer to help when you were doing something and take you out places. He didnt seem real but on that hill were you both sat he held your hand gently as you both looked to the sunset. He kissed you gently so tenderly bringing new emotions with in you. He pulled away worried but you only smiles kissing him again as he embraced you. This was a true man.