#Red dead fanfiction

[ariseur]

hi love!! i saw that your requests are open and im here to help🫡

can i request some red dead headcanons/blurbs? maybe what their affection/kisses are like? arthur, john, javier and charles are my pookies (especially charles oh my god i love him so so much) but i would love to hear your thoughts on anybody really!!

hope you’re doing well <3

AFFECTIONATE - VAN DER LINDE BOYS

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes - for some reason i cannot post rdr2 with my manga headers or cutesy pink dividers it feels so off to me i have no idea why 😭 but thank you for sending this request in, i love it sooo much!’ it’s nice to see another charles lover in this fandom lolol— you take care as well!! 🫶

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings - mentions of injuries in kieran’s and charles, kisses and kissing (?), hispanic!reader / spanish speaking!reader in mind for javier’s, intended lowercase, alcohol and drinking in sean’s, lmk if i missed anything!! 🫶

ARTHUR MORGAN who will put calloused hands around your waist when you’re alone in your tent at night, burrowing his nose in your hair as he lays behind you. you can smell his musk, the scent of the outdoors and faded linen, as it clings onto you with its tight grip and lingers. you don’t mind though, and neither does arthur; simply basking in your warmth as the crickets chirp in harmony with your soft exhales.

“‘ve missed you.” you say, your right hand crawling to interlock itself with his own draped over your waist as it fiddles with the soft skin there.

“missed y’too, darlin’.” you can feel his chest rumble with his voice, tone deep and gravelly from the lack of use. you let your eyes close as you savored the feeling of his hands caressing the small chub that gathered itself in his hands when he squished too much. you would give anything to have moments like these with arthur whenever you could.

JOHN MARSTON who’ll scoff as you pressed kisses along his face, sitting on his lap as the campfire graced your bodies with its warm glow. his affections held a more stand-offish tone to them but on the off occasional that he got a little too tipsy, you could never pry him off of you.

“if i’d’a known any better, i’d have thought you was in love wit’ me,” he huffed. regardless of his dumb comments, his hands never failed to find their way upon the dips of your hips, rubbing circles over the fabric of your clothes.

you bumped your head into his head as he chuckled, raspy voice rumbling throughout his chest as you halted your kisses and instead rested your head on his shoulder. your foot, bare and tapping against the ground in tune with the distant strums of javier’s guitar and karen’s drunken singing kept you grounded — kept you remembering that this was real, this was all real; and you were alive.

“why? you complainin’?”

you felt john’s cheeks widen with his grin. “naw,” was all he said.

two things that JAVIER ESCUELLA cherished most in this world were family and freedom; and he knew that he felt at peace knowing he had both of these things in that moment. you by his side, as neither of you had a care in the world. the sun glimmered and lazed around, taking its place on your backs and replacing the cool, dawn air with its heat. affection with javier is passionate and it’s scary, you never know what you’ll get or suffer the next day but it doesn’t matter — you persevere knowing you’ll find home in his arms a night more, you’ll live long enough to seek refuge and if you died in the process; it’d be okay knowing you died with who you loved.

deft fingers came to slide up and down the wooden fretboard along with his other hand plucking on the strings. you hadn’t realized you’d been staring until he peeked one eye open from under his bowler hat, a teasing smirk on his face as he mumbled, “no me miras con esos ojos, corazón.”

you rolled your eyes, “que quieres decir, javi?”

he hummed, he knew you knew what he meant — and you knew that he knew. but for now, you’d continue to stare, admiring your beloved that sat so prettily on that log; simply playing his guitar. he had his freedom, and he had his family right here.

loud laughs erupted from the obnoxious irishman known as SEAN MACGUIRE, a jug of alcohol in his hand and his darling in the other.

“i’m tellin’ ya, luckiest man alive—! they said they loved me, can y’believe it?” his accent only got thicker by the minute as he raved to everybody that walked by about how you had suddenly professed your love once more as you two sat on the barrel circling the rounded, wooden table. you smacked his arm to which he let out a rasping cackle. “shut up, will you?”

“ah, never. y’know ya love me,” he puckered his lips dramatically as you scoffed. giving him a chaste kiss, he groaned as you pulled away too quick before you went in deeper, seeing his eyes widen in shock before yours fluttered closed. he laughed out the side of his mouth before his hand, ever so gentle, buried itself in your hair. sean was a loud lover, one you’d typically be embarrassed by — but that only meant he loved you more than anything. a drunk man’s words is a sober man’s thoughts and he had you on his mind all the time.

CHARLES SMITH who’ll treat your wounds silently, as he always did except this time would be different. a tense silence would fill your tent other than murmured hisses and apologies due to the peroxide and other various natural remedies he preserved for your care. charles would always keep a level head, warning you not to go on jobs that micah would egg you on yet charles would always wait for you to return.

he never said anything during these times, charles loved silently. instead of telling you he loved you every second or having you on his lap like others, he’d bring you a trinket you remembered wanting from a storefront window or he’d take you out hunting with him; teaching you how to properly set up bait ( not in the reckless way that sean or bill would attempt to mansplain about ). he’d take care of you and he’d listen to you. so when you’d gasp and bite your fist from how badly he had to stitch your leg up, his hand would grab yours and bring it down to rest on your thigh — intertwining fingers as his thumb grazed over the crescent shaped marks your teeth left.

you really did love KIERAN DUFFY, seeing the way he’d try to puff his chest out when the guys at camp would look at you when really, he’d get all shy and blushy when you babied him. he wasn’t so used to this sorta thing, you know, relationships. everybody in camp looked at you like you were crazy, but they knew better than to tell that to you ( or him ), knowing they’d only get an earful from you about how sweet kieran really was.

you’d dress his wounds and in return, you’d find your horse prepped and groomed all pretty in the mornings — already fed and provided with water. and when you’d ask arthur or tilly, they’d always shrug and say, “must be that o’driscoll boy.”

you treated him with care, like no one had ever had, and that was the greatest gift in itself to kieran. he saw you as an angel, he’d even try telling you sometimes although backtracking a bit just to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. kieran duffy’s affection was careful and nervous, stiff gestures presented to you although all of his worries melted away once he heard your sweet laugh. he didn’t know much about this stuff but that was okay, he’d learn just for you.

𐙚 taglist ; @ch3rryfiles @maskedteaser

𐙚 requests are closed — june twenty eighth, 2024

[midnighvtm4ss]

omg I feel like if anyone could write this right it’s going to be you. we need arthur FLUFF with a reader on her period!!!

RISES THE MOON

cw: fluff, toothaching fluff, period cramps, arthur is a sweetheart, please arthur marry me :( wrote this on my notes app, grammar errors

wc: 1,8k

a/n: this piece was so comforting to write aaa thank you anon for the request <33 i hope this will soothe anyone who’s having period pain rn, i suggest you listen to this song and this one, i had them on loop while writing this. This piece is shorter than the others but I think it suits the mood in a way,, idk ! enjoy!!

The last few notes of the sweet melody coming from Javier’s guitar floated quietly in the air.

The night had fallen gently over the camp, wrapping everything in a quiet, soothing stillness. The campfire flickered softly, casting a golden light on the nearby trees, creating a cozy circle of warmth for those near it. Most of the gang had long since retired for the night, leaving only the faintest murmur of voices in the distant watching post and the occasional pops and cracks of burning wood.

You stood near the fire, trying to find some relief from the chill in the air, but more than that, you were trying to ease the dull ache that spread through your body. The cramps had been like little devils on your lower belly throughout your day, starting as a minor constant discomfort but now growing into something more relentless, making you wince with every movement and your back aching with every step.

Your day was filled with chores left and right as some of the girls left camp and went into town under the request of various groceries items for Pearson’s wagon. You wanted to join them but unfortunately your body had other plans. You came up with a simple excuse and promised to go with them another time. You hadn’t mentioned the true cause to anyone—it was just your period, no need to alarm anyone after all—but now, at the end of the day, you were desperately ready to crawl into the comfort of your bed and hope the night might lend you some kind of relief.

Arthur had been finishing up his usual nightly chores, checking on the horses and bringing them fresh hay. He always had a fondness for horses, no matter if they were his or someone else’s. His love for them often found sketched freely in the various pages of his journal. As he made his way back from the hitching post his eyes scanned the surroundings, making sure the camp was in order for the night. His eyes, like magnets drifted to your figure near the campfire.

You could feel his eyes on you, catching the small signs of discomfort you tried so hard to hide behind your calm demeanor. But he noticed something was off, he always noticed. The way your hand kept drifting to hold your stomach, the subtle wince that crossed your face when you thought no one was looking—it didn’t slip past him.

The crunching sound of boots on dirt floated in the air making its way towards you. You knew who it was and you took a moment to regain yourself and put on a calm façade.

“Y’alright, darlin’?” The gentle rumble of his voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he came to sit down on the log beside you, his gaze full of quiet concern as he searched your face for any hint of discomfort.

“Sure,” You tried to smile through the ache, not wanting to make a fuss. “just a little sore from the day. It’s nothing.”

But Arthur wasn’t one to brush things off, especially when it came to you. He studied your face for a moment, his brow furrowing making a small expression line form between his brows in that familiar way that told you he wasn’t about to let it go. Without saying anything, he slipped a warm, steady hand to the small of your back, moving it in small comforting circles.

“Come on,” he sighted, his voice still soft but insistent. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

He guided you away from the fire and toward the tent. You didn’t argue. The idea of lying down, of finally resting, sounded too good to resist.

The two of you slipped into the quiet of the tent, Arthur hand left yours to go and close the front flap of the tent and light up the creaky old lantern on the makeshift bedside table, the lantern casting a soft glow over the familiar space.

The moment you sank down onto the bed, you let out a long sigh, curling up slightly to your side in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in your belly. But even then, the cramps persisted, growing stronger by the minute.

Arthur knelt beside the cot, his arms folded on the soft mattress watching with that careful, gentle intensity of his. He reached for the blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness so far different from his usual hard front he put up with everyone. Then, without a word, he got up, kicking his boots away and settled down beside you, his large frame stretching out on the bedroll as he gently pulled you into his arms resting your head on his firm chest.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he whispered. His breath warm against your temple as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you higher against his chest.

You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, your body relaxing instantly in the comfort of his embrace. Arthur’s warmth surrounded you, his steady presence already making you feel better, more at ease. His hands, rough from all the manual work, moved with a soft, gentle care. One hand drifting under your nightgown towards your lower belly, the action far from sexual while the other moved to untangle your hair from the simple hairstyle you had for the day.

“That time of the month?”

You let out a muffled grumble against the fabric of his red union suit as an answer, making Arthur let out a small laugh.

“I can tell it’s hurtin’ you,” he said quietly, his voice low and soothing as his thumb began to rub slow, comforting circles over your stomach. “Let me help.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft breath as the warmth of his hand started to ease some of the ache. His touch was gentle, massaging your lower belly putting just enough pressure to soothe the tension without causing more discomfort. The pain didn’t go away completely, but the care in his movements, the way he held you, made your heart sing with joy making it easier to bear the pain.

“That’s better,” you whispered, your voice soft with relief. “Thank you.”

Arthur’s lips curved into a faint smile, though you could feel the ghost of worry still lingering in the way his hand moved over your belly, never stopping, never hesitating. “You don’t gotta thank me for takin’ care of you, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’d do it every day if I had to.”

“Be careful of what you wish for, Mister. I might start to demand more if you spoil me”

“Oh I can’t wait,” he teased. “Forever at your service mylady.”

His words made your heart swell with warmth. Arthur wasn’t the type to shower you with flowery words or grand gestures, but it was in moments like these that his love showed itself at its truest form—in the quiet, steady way he was always there, making you smile, always looking out for you, even when you didn’t ask for it.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth. The moon rose higher in the sky and the outside world faded away. Arthur’s hand continued its slow, soothing movements, his touch tender and full of care, and little by little, the pain in your belly began to ease ever so slightly. You felt the tension melting away under the work of his hands, the cramps becoming a dull background ache rather than the sharp, insistent pain it had been just an hour ago.

“Y’know,” Arthur said after a long moment of comfortable silence, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet, “I remember Miss Grimshaw used to make me and John chamomile tea when we had stomach cramps.” his hands never stopped their movement.

“Marston used to drink a lot of it—that poor bastard always seemed to eat the nastiest shit he could find around,” he laughed lightly, reminiscing of the early days of the gang when a camp cook seemed such a privilege.

“Anyway, I can make you some if you want,”

You smiled against his chest, the simple thoughtfulness of his offer making your heart ache with affection. “That sounds nice,” you whispered, though truthfully, you were already feeling better just being in his arms.

“I don’t know how much it can be of help but it’s better than nothin’”

Arthur shifted slightly. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could protest for the lack of his warmth against you, he slipped out of the tent, moving with that same quiet efficiency he always had.

A few minutes passed, you were almost asleep when Arthur came back and with him the chill night breeze entered the tent waking you up.

“There,” he said softly, his deep voice full of quiet satisfaction as he sat the mug down the bedside table. He sat down beside you, pulling you up into a seated position before handing you the tin mug filled with the golden brown liquid. “This should hopefully help.”

You nestled into him, feeling the warmth of the mug and the steady, grounding presence of Arthur beside you. It was amazing how he could make everything feel better, just by being there—by holding you and letting you know, without words, that he was there for you.

A comforting silence fell on both of you as you drank your tea slowly, feeling your whole body relaxing with each warm sip you took.

After a while, the pain in your belly faded into the background, and you found yourself growing drowsy in the soft cocoon of warmth and care that Arthur had created around you. You laid down again and Arthur followed your action putting your head on his chest. His hand moved to your back, tracing lazy, soothing patterns there, his fingers brushing gently over your spine.

“Y’know there’s no need to hide when you’re hurtin’. You’re always helping everyone around, sometimes you gotta stop and look after y’rself.”

“Arthur,” you whispered, your voice full of sleep and gratitude. “I love you so much, I don’t deserve you.”

He huffed a soft laugh, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed another kiss to your temple. “Ain’t no such thing,” he murmured, “you deserve more than me.”

His words, so downgrading for himself yet full of love for you, made your heart ache in the best way.

“You’re everything I need,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyelids grew heavy. As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped safely in Arthur’s arms, the pain and discomfort of the day faded away completely, replaced by the quiet, steady warmth of his love.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

ever since your sex hcs included arthur and strength kink and getting lifted effortlessly i need More… part 2 of sorts of arthur sex hcs pretty please how rough he is his hidden kinks and things he wants to do to you how he likes to go down on you all of it 🙏🏻 he is a giver and i want to be tossed around by him very badly

Arthur Morgan NSFW HC

I didn't proofread this

Warnings: smut, size kink, strength kink, breeding kink

Depending on how he's feeling for the day his roughness would vary

Overall his touches are very heavy handed and firm

Manhandles you like you're a weightless toy

One minute you're getting pounded the next you've been flipped into a completely new position

Picks you up by your wrists and drags you across the bed or into a new position

Grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him

Or grabs your waist and moves you around like that. He especially loves doing this when you're riding him

Gives you absolutely no warnings either so you're just swept up

Wouldn't want to tie you up, instead opting towards using his sheer strength to hold you down or in place

I think for a more hidden or lowkey kink he has he'd have a breeding kink

Wouldn't indulge in it until the two of you have actual talks of having a family together

He probably also discovered for himself just how much he liked doing it

Dreams of having his own family one day and the thought of finishing inside you and you having his children gives him goosebumps

Constantly finishes inside you, it's a regular practice during sex

Even if you do fall pregnant he'll continue to do so

Watches himself go in and out of you after cumming inside you and just revels in the sight of copious amounts of cum being pumped into you

Like you said, he's a giver

He takes his time with it and everything, traces open mouthed kisses up to your inner thighs before tracing them back down again

Removes your underwear with his teeth, he knows things are about to get wicked

Kisses and breaths on your pussy, blowing on it and drawing it out before finally giving in

He's really skilled but he isn't the most messy eater, slow but passionate

Literally buries his nose into you and shoves his face in, even let's you grab his hair and push him in

Like Cardi B said, swipes his nose like a credit card

Lots of fingering while he's sucking on you, maybe he'll even slide s pinky into your ass

ALWAYS makes you finish with head too

His beard will be glistening by the time he's done

If you're smaller than him he'll want to see you wearing his clothes while he fucks you

Or if you dress in his clothes and put on his hat and try to act big and bad while domming him

Has a huge thing for you wearing cowboy boots.

Would be a little nervous to introduce weaponry to the bedroom but he'd have fantasies about rubbing his gun on your cunt through the fabric of your underwear

[eccentricallygothic]

|| The Farmer's Way ||

Description: With the gang gone for good, Arthur had retired and you were his reward. Or so he believed. 

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You. 

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Arthur Morgan or the RDR universe. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, gross stuff because that's all I think about while playing the game, age gap, groping, dirty talk, degradation, doggy style, penetration, spanking, biting/marking, sexism, wife kink but it doesn't matter what you identify as because he's gross like that so tw for sure. 

Note: Fair warning, he's a bit of a sicko and I am a mental slut. Also this is kinda my first time with gender neutral smut so I am very sorry if I got something wrong. I am willing to rectify if I did make any such mistake. 

The hot June air blew past you and pricked at your rather pampered skin. You felt a droplet of sweat trickle down your temple as you winced and shielded your face from the sun, the rays now attacking the skin of your arm instead. A grunt escaped you when you willed your feet, which were clad in some glittery pumps, to push on towards the huge barn of your family farm. A string of disgusted curses foxed their way out of your mouth when the smell of dung and hay wafted into your nostrils from the giant red wooden box that was literally radiating stinky heat. 

Your feet halted right outside the heavy double doors and you had to take a long breath to brace yourself before you entered. Your features scrunched in disdain as you tried to hold your breath, clutching the cool jug and glass that you were holding tighter as you slipped inside before the weight of the door caused it to close by itself. Clenching your jaw to focus on the task at hand, you slowly walked forwards and concentrated on your breathing to ensure you didn't inhale any of the barn filth. 

It was a fairly easy piece of work.

Give the lemonade to your husband and leave. 

Simple, right? 

No. 

Not when said husband is Arthur Morgan. 

As his fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep you from leaving after you had placed the jug and glass down, your breath hitched as you felt a bile rise in your throat from pure disgust. The dust and sweat on his fingers was gut wrenching. 

"Fixin' to leave already?" His other hand came up to tangle in one of the two silky ribbons you wore on both sides of your head in half ponytails after he had pulled you against his hard chest, the coarse hairs on his chest scratching the skin of your back. "I was missin' you so much, baby" you uneasily shifted in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin when you felt his fingers trail up from your wrist to your forearm. "It's almost like you showed up 'cause you read my mind" you could barely suppress your gasp as your body jumped in reaction to his stubbly lips suddenly finding your ear. 

"I…" Your voice was a mere squeak and you had to concentrate to make yourself sound a bit less pathetic. "I left the food on the stove" your eyes fluttered shut before clenching as you suppressed the urge to retch at both the feeling and smell, arm folding to let your elbow press into the side of his torso. The man only hummed as his browned and dirty hands felt you up, basically frisking your barely clad body as his lips pressed rushed kisses against your neck. "A- Arthur!" You flinched when he bit down on a hickey on the junction of your neck, fingers finding your nipples through the sheer fabric of one of the many silk dresses he made you wear. 

The older man did not budge, only grunting when you probed his chest harder, hips trying to wriggle free. "The grub can wait, hush now" your limbs screamed at you to fight. Try and push him away. Hit him with something. Make a run for it. Never look back. "Mmm, baby" your eyes teared up when his other hand slipped from the ribbon to trail down your abdomen and to your nether regions. "If it was up to me, I'd keep ya bare as a jaybird 'round the clock" your jaw clenched at his words but you knew better than to hurl the heavy jug that was in front of you against his head. 

Because you had done stuff like that countless times in the beginning of your forced marriage seven months ago. 

Except, you had no idea how but your husband had somehow trained and kept a number of wolves to guard the property only God knew how. 

No one could come in and you could never leave. 

The punishments that you had been subjected to upon trying to do so were more than enough to keep you on your best behavior. 

"Oh, darlin', you taste mighty fine" you were flipped and easily backed into one of the many stables. "Now, let me try out that pretty little mouth" your eyebrows scrunched as you craned your neck backwards to get away from him. The reverberations of Arthur's chuckle buzzed through your chest as he pressed into you and left you trapped and helpless. "Ain't ya just a foolish little thing? Thinkin' you can get away from your old man?" His rough palms cupped your face as he dipped his head in, chasing your lips with his own and snickering when you tried to move. 

When you had seen this mysterious cowboy turn up to buy your family farm off of your useless brother seven months ago, you had not thought much of it. Sure, you were angry that his gambling had ended him up in so much debt that he had no choice but to sell off your family legacy, but you had bright plans with your scholarship program at a prestigious college, and you had been so ready to leave this life that you had never liked much in the first place behind for one of revolution and modernity. 

Only, when all of your documentation as well as your brother and his family disappeared the night before your final departure, the then stranger and now your husband revealed that you had been part of the deal. 

As Arthur fucked into you on your wedding night -as he had promised your brother that he would not take you before that-, the man had confessed how lovely you had looked resting on a tree branch as you chewed on your lip, completely engrossed in your book. 

You knew alcohol and the colorful powders that your brother loved to use had done his mind in, but handing you off like merchandise to a man with no regard for your orientation or taste was something you had never expected from him. Not after he had been your legal guardian for so long. 

But then again, he never understood your ways and thought revolution was a blasphemy. 

In your brother's world, you either did the hard work on the field or became a field worker's home runner. 

And your open disdain for the farm work had earned you the latter. 

The irony was laughable, because he probably thought he was protecting you by choosing a secure future for his baby sibling. The right thing. 

Your spark had always scared him, and so he suppressed it once and for all under the mundaneness of the farm by locking you up in his own kind of a gilded cage and handing the keys to the man who was all over you at the moment.  

'Excitement is a double edged sword. It is thrilling and promising but it can also be dangerous.' That you couldn't deny.

The thrumming in your nether regions was proof. 

Frightening, shameful, repulsive proof.

"Arthur…" You whimpered as your vision zeroed in on his rough lips that brushed against yours soon before pressing into them. 

The man moaned, rubbing his crotch against yours as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and forcing his tongue in your mouth, the taste of cigarettes and coffee making you cringe and try to move away but a tight squeeze to your ass with his coarse hand made you gasp and hence open your mouth. Then his tongue was down your throat. 

Everything was rough and dirty about him. 

You hated it.

Sometimes he purposely rubbed his filth against your clean clothes and body to add insult to injury. He would laugh as you would hold your breath and try to get away only to be trapped between his strong body and some surface. Arthur would then watch you squirm and struggle until you ran out of breath and had no choice but to inhale his scent. 

"Dang it, I can't hold back no more" Arthur was panting when he finally broke off to let you both breathe, one of his hands bolting down to his belt while the other one held you steady. "I need ya right now…" The kiss had flushed your lips and you could feel the change in size as you ran your tongue over them to accumulate some moisture. "You gonna be good and take it for me, darlin', won't ya?" And while your brain screamed at you to know better, you squeezed your legs and whined, taking deep breaths as one of your fists bunched some of his sweaty shirt in it. 

"Arthur…" A small smirk made its way on his face while he hurriedly relieved himself of all decency. He recognized that tone. 

"Now ya know better than to call me that, baby" heat spread across your cheeks as you whimpered, biting your lip before you lowered your head and reached for his hand that was pinching one of your nipples through your sheer dress. "Go on now, you know my preference" your eyes fluttered shut as you took a shaky breath, massaging the hand that was toying with your chest and arching your back. 

"... H- Hubby…" Arthur cursed under his breath like he always did whenever he got you to call him that. Then he reached out for your other hand and brought it to his erect cock, the feeling of its thick veins against your soft fingertips causing your hole to clench around air. 

"Aw, shit, darlin'" he guided your hand up and down his twitching cock. "Can ya feel it?" His body pressed against yours. "This here is what ya do to me" the tip of his organ released some hot precum and you couldn't help but shudder at the memories it triggered. 

Memories of how it felt inside you. 

Before you knew it, as always, reason was out the window before you could grab onto it and your mind had decided shame could come later. Who knew when or if you would ever make it out of here and Arthur was way too good at making you feel strange things that kept you giving into him for more.

"Please, hubby" you whispered, unable to hold back anymore as you worked your wrist to please him. "Please…"

"Please, what, baby?" He pecked your lips over and over before moving down to the corner of your mouth and then further along your jaw. "Use your words for me" his lips locked around a patch of your delicate skin as he sucked, causing you to bend your back outwards. "Get, now."

"P- Please take me…" You shuddered as the sound of his lips forming yet another bruise along the expanse of your neck grew louder and louder in the air. "Please… please…" You couldn't get yourself to utter any more obscenity than that. 

"You mean you want me to fuck you?" Your heart dropped at the bluntness of his words, the feeling of his stubbly lips curling against your skin almost making you want to retreat, but only almost. 

Besides, you couldn't leave on your accord even if you wanted to. 

Though you really didn't want to leave this barn anymore. 

Not before the ache between your legs was relieved. 

When you didn't respond verbally, Arthur clicked his tongue as he came back up to face you and reached for his hat before placing it on your head. He loved to take you like that. "Come on, darlin'. You know I ain't gon' do nothin' 'til you say it for me" but then one of his hands creeped between your legs to caress your intimate part and your legs trembled in reaction; body submitting at once. 

Taking in a deep and shaky breath, you braced yourself before mumbling out your words, hoping and praying they were enough for him because you knew as well as you knew it was day that you didn't have any more indecency in you to talk the kind of filth he could with a straight face.

"P- Please fuck me, hubby…" One of his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer. 

"I'm sorry, what was that there?" You almost choked his cock between your fingers but you knew better than hostility. 

"I- I said…"

"You said?" 

Your jaw clenched in annoyance because you were so needy all thanks to his dirty hands and now he was not helping. 

"I said p- please fuck me, hubby" you said as clearly as you possibly could, tone almost blunt. 

He finally seemed intent. "Your wish is my command, darlin'" the man had you flipped and bent over the stable before you could even register it. 

Your gaze settled on the little pony in front of you as you felt his stiff tip prod your entrance, the foreplay having lubed his cock more than enough. Since you weren't allowed to wear underwear, the lack of it granted him easier access to you and Arthur was sliding in with a grunt a moment later, squeezing both your ass cheeks at the same time as he cursed. 

"Fuck, baby. You're the tightest little thing I've ever laid down with" your fingers gripped the stable as you jumped when he landed a spank to one of your cheeks, slowly moving through you to get you to adjust. "Shit, look at you. Such a pretty little farm wife, baby" your face scrunched up in both discomfort and sensory overload due to how sensitive you felt down there. 

"Please…" Your mouth always betrayed you in moments like these despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible. 

But it felt even better when you let it get the best of you and drown you completely, the vile words coming out of your own mouth adding to the pressure between your hips before stars exploded in your vision. 

"Please what, sweet little thing?" You felt his chest drape over your back as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against yours, hips starting to find a rhythm as the speed of his thrusts increased. 

"Please… more" you couldn't help but lean your face against his to withstand the sensitivity, eyes fluttering as you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration, your velvety walls sheathing his veiny cock with every push. 

Arthur's chest reverberated against your back. "Ya act like you're too good for all this, but deep down you're just a horny little hussy, ain't ya darlin'?" You whined loudly as you clenched around him, starting to move your own hips against his now. "Jus' look at you, whinin' and squeezin' 'round me in front of li'l Sally like a silly 'lil jezebel" that was what you had named the pony that stared at you with her curious eyes. "But ya love that deep down, don't ya?" Your eyebrows furrowed when his words started to crack the haze that had formed in your mind, making you lower your head to cancel him out and focus on your relief.

But you could never win with Arthur. 

"You can go on ahead and deny it all you want. But this trashy li'l hole of yours tells me all I need to know everytime, honey" his lips bluntly moved against the shell of your ear as he gathered one of your knees in his hands and pushed it up against the frame of the stable before finding its way to your nipples again, other hand gliding down to the quivering organ between your legs. 

As Arthur's hips sped up and your body started to rock back and forth against the wooden frame with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin clapping against its like filled up the smelly barn. His hat fell over your eyes and you knew you were in for a long day. 

[mrm0rgansw0man]

hi guys!! i am alive and well and still writing lol, im so sorry to not have pubished anything in so long!! life has just been crazy lately and i just haven't had as much time as i would like to work on things, but you'll be happy to hear that i TEN DRAFTS that i am working on currently and even more things to start!! you guys WILL get your arthur morgan content lol. but for now, heres a quick little something as an peace offering for being gone so long Xx

- a quiet little night ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ -

summary: arthur morgan settles down for the night.

As Arthur stumbled into his little makeshift room, half dead from exhaustion and the cold, it took all his might not to just topple over onto his cot and sleep. Boots and hat and all, in fact he almost did.

It was the slight shift of his blankets that stopped him.

Arthur let out a deep and loving sigh. He quickly undid his boots and took off his hat, setting them both down next to his bed.

'Now what could this be?' Arthur thought to himself with a light chuckle.

Arthur lifted up his blankets- which he noticed he had at least three more in his bed now than when he did when he woke up- and that's when he saw you.

Your hair was wrapped in a scarf, and you were still in your clothes from the day. You had bundled yourself in blankets and practically buried yourself into Arthur's cot to sleep.

Arthur couldn't help the grin spread across his face as he gently crawled into the bed next to you. You stirred, but thankfully didn't wake.

Arthur yawned, already partially asleep as he re adjusted the blankets over the both of you. Once you were both tucked in and as sheltered as you could be from the cold, Arthur leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He stroked as much of your hair as he could, almost wishing you hadn't fallen asleep in that scarf. But it kept you warm, and right now that was more important than anything.

This move to Colter had been hard, on you in a different way than the others. You were the type that just didn't do well in the cold. Arthur didn't know what it was, but it just sucked the life out of you. You could never truly be warm, your nose ran constantly and you were in pain more often than you weren't.

Arthur at first just thought you needed some more meat on your bones, but now he thought it was something more. Maybe you were sick somehow, making you weaker to the strong weather? You didn't do too well in the extreme heat either.

Never mind that now. Even if the thoughts lingered in his mind like the howling cold winds lingered around the outside of his walls, he refused to let this moment with you go to waste.

Arthur finally laid down fully, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him. You partially woke, just conscious enough to cuddle into him and gently kiss whatever part of him was closest to you, tonight it was his chin. You had the fleeting thought that you hoped tomorrow night it would be his lips before falling back to sleep.

No matter where you had kissed him, it filled Arthur's heart with joy. He loved you, so god damn much. Coming back to this each and every night, made the troubles of the day worth it. No matter how tired he was, he would always make sure to be there with you and hold you while you slept. To kiss you goodnight, to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you slept.

"Arthur.." You mumbled sleepily. "I missed you s' much..."

"I missed ya' too sweetheart." Arthur whispered soothingly, gently rubbing his hands up and down your back underneath the blankets. "I love you baby.. C'mon not. Let's go back t'sleep..."

"I love you too.." You breathed out, it was said so quietly it was barely audible. Arthur closed his heavy eyes, and listened to the sound of your gentle breathing.

With the sounds of the wind and your breaths as a lullaby, Arthur drifted off to sleep for the night. Dreading the moment he would have to wake up.

so sorry this is short!! i literally couldn't stand going another moment with publishing something im so sorry guys

[aoioozora]

Crown of Peace

Character: John Marston (Red Dead Redemption) Content: J.M x daughter reader, fluff, John not being a deadbeat dad Note: Happens after the events of RDR1, John doesn't die and the Marstons live happily ever after and have a daughter because why the hell not, I just want them to be happy 😭 Also this is for anyone with daddy issues >:) Enjoy!

Your father was your entire world, and as you wove together a flower crown of wild feverfew, you raised your little head to see the impressive silhouette of your slim, tall father standing by the banks of a small river with a fishing rod in hand, bathed in the light of the setting sun.

You watched admiringly as a breeze tousled his black hair and he slowly raised his head to savor the coolness of the evening and the warmth of the dying daylight.

"Papa!" you called John, your voice shrill, rising and running up to him with your little legs. When he turned around, you showed him the flower crown, "I made a flower crown!"

He smiled gently at you and keeping down his fishing rod, he knelt down to inspect the crown of white flowers. "Well, ain't this somethin'. You made it all by yourself?"

"Yeah! Mama taught me!" you exclaimed cheerily.

Your father found himself grinning at the sight of your smile and ruffled your hair. "You're real talented, kid," he praised, looking down at the crown. "So, who is this for? Your Ma?"

"No," you giggled mischievously. Your father raised a brow at this.

You then proceeded to take off his worn, bleached hat and then placed the crown of flowers on his head. "It's for you!"

He blinked in surprise and then chuckled. "For me?" he exclaimed, smirking as he pinched your little nose, "But boys don't wear flowers, you know."

You rubbed your nose and then argued, "But Jack told me that there are boy flowers and girl flowers! So that means flowers are for boys and girls!"

He laughed heartily at that. Your elder brother Jack was an avid reader, often teaching you about things he read. And you always knew how to use the things you were taught, for you were very smart.

"Is that so? Well, alright, if you say so," your father relented.

You smiled, satisfied by his response. As you decided to claim his hat as your own and put it on your head, your father turned to the fishing rod when he noticed a tugging. He immediately seized the rod and yanked out the catch from the water. Taking the fish in his hand, he saw that it was a rather large bluegill. He bent down and showed it to you.

"That's a big catch, ain't it?" he told you, "We can ask Ma to fry this for dinner."

"Yeah!" you exclaimed, nodding excitedly as you watched him put the fish into a bag.

"Papa, I want to fish too. Will you teach me?" you begged as he began to pack up his equipment.

He put his hand on your head to give you a pat. "Sure, but not today. I don't have a whole lot of bait, and this rod is too big for you. I'll get you one just your size and then I'll teach you, alright?"

You pouted but relented at his promise.

When he had packed everything up, he flicked his head towards the horse, "We should get going home now. Come on."

You hesitated.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Can we stay a little longer? Please?"

"Why?"

"I want to make a crown for Mama,"

Your father paused, his eyes flickering to the setting Sun. It was still a little high in the sky, but it wouldn't take long for it to soon dip behind the mountains. He didn't want to remain outdoors too long as it would get colder and there would be raiders and coyotes lurking around in the dark for their next meal.

"Alright, but you have to finish making your crown before sunset."

You nodded, and immediately got to picking more wild feverfew. Your father sat down by the pebbled banks with his legs crossed, watching over you as you squatted by a patch of flowers, picking the choicest ones. The crown you gave him remained on his head, and he almost preferred it to the grizzled hat that rested on yours.

The atmosphere was one of peace and tranquility, with the gentle and steady ripple of the river water, the softly whistling breeze, the birds chirping and flitting about playfully; and the glowing red sphere slowly laying down in his abode in the mountains, taking the light of day with him. Dried leaves and air-borne seeds fluttered and twirled in the breeze, tenderly laying upon the surface of the water and floating away downstream.

He was not one to stop and look at nature and ponder upon it, but the beauty of the tranquil evening commanded his attention, and he decided to take the opportunity to slow himself down for once.

His steady reflections were interrupted by the crunch of gravel next to him. When he turned, he saw his daughter with a bunch of the white flowers in her hands.

"Papa, can I sit with you?" you asked.

"Of course, darling," he answered tenderly, patting his lap, "Come, sit here."

You situated yourself on his lap and began to tie up the flower stems to make the crown. While you did, he raised his rough hand and gently put his arm around your little body, pulling you and pressing you closer to him. You scooted close as he did, happily snuggling up against his chest.

Your father couldn't fight a smile at how small and sweet you looked. He didn't know how to treat a little girl, but he knew that they had to be treated with gentleness and delicacy. As he watched you, he felt the weight of his fatherly responsibility rest heavy on his shoulders.

He was a man in a man's world, but she was a girl in a man's world. Not only did she have to maintain her femininity, grace, and sweetness as she grew, but she had to learn to be strong, and not be a pushover. His thoughts wandered, thinking of all the things you had to learn. Morals, cooking, housekeeping, shooting, hunting, diplomacy; nothing would be exempt. Whatever he taught his son, he'd teach you.

He let out a sigh and his eyes flickered to his hat on your head.

It was far too big and loose for you, and it kept falling over your face, making you repeatedly push it back up and hindering your progress and speed. Regardless, you stubbornly let the hat be. But your father wasn't having it, and he took it off.

"Papa!" you whined, upset by the lack of his hat.

"You can wear it later," he assured, placing it on his knee, "It's not making it easy for you to make your crown."

You relented and went back to tying up the flowers.

He turned to his hat that was previously on your head; the gnarly thing had seen hell and bloodshed, and to see it on the head of innocence herself was unbearable. His past life and present life would never meet, and he'd make sure of it. Even if he wasn't one for the flowers that crowned his head, he sure preferred the happiness that it represented.

He continued to watch you, and seeing the numerous flowers on your lap, picked one up and tucked its stem behind your ear, adjusting it so that the bloom was in full display next to your face, enhancing your beauty. He smiled again, gazing lovingly at you, the very picture of loveliness.

"Finished!" you soon exclaimed, holding up the second crown of flowers.

Your father smiled wider. "Your ma will love it," he replied. Looking down once again at your lap, he found that a few more flowers remained. "What are you gonna do with those?" he asked.

You hummed thoughtfully as you picked up a flower. Looking at the bandolier strapped on his chest, you slipped it in one of the empty bullet cartridges.

"We can carry these home," you said, continuing to put the flowers in the cartridges, even plucking out the bullets and putting them in his hand to replace them.

Your father allowed you to. It seemed symbolic to him, you replacing the bullets with flowers. He wasn't one to get emotional easily, but the act tightened his chest and brimmed his eyes over with tears that he blinked away.

His bandolier was filled with the remaining flowers, and how much lovelier it looked to him.

"Now we can go home," you told him, smiling.

"Alright, get up then," he said as he stashed the bullets in his pocket.

You rose and your father followed suit, rising with a grunt. He gave you his hat to carry, which you happily grabbed and held close. Just as he was about to start walking towards his horse, you tugged his pant.

"Papa, carry me," you pleaded, raising your arms up to him, looking at him the way a hungry chick looked up to its mother.

He felt his heart squeeze; he promptly lifted you up in his arms and feeling an overflow of affection for you, squeezed you tight against him. You wrapped your little arms around his neck and rested your cheek against his shoulder, content and safe.

The short walk brought you to the horse and he placed you on the saddle before getting on behind you. "You ready to go, kid?" he asked, wrapping his large hand around your stomach to secure you.

You answered that you were, but he didn't spur his horse on just yet. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss on the side of your head.

Giggling, you said in response, "I love you, Papa."

He chuckled. "Where'd you learn that from?"

"I heard you say it to Mama."

"So you have been spying on us, you little brat?" he laughed, playfully squishing your cheeks in his large hand, making you giggle harder.

"But you're always saying it to Mama in front of everyone!" you protested.

"Yeah, that's because I love your Ma," he answered, "And I want everyone to know."

"Do you love me too?" you raised your head to meet his eyes.

"Of course I love you, kid," he answered, squishing your face again, "I always will. Don't ever forget that, alright?"

"Yes, Papa,"

With a kick to the horse's flanks, the two of you rode back to Beecher's Hope. You rested your back against your father's chest; the constant activity of the day, the warmth of the sunset, the chill of the breeze, and your father's presence made your body sag and your eyes heavy with sleep. Noticing this, John held you firmly under his hand.

The crown of wild feverfew continued to adorn his head as he rode down the dirt trails past other riders and wagons, and there was no shame on his proud face. Even if it was a simple, humble crown of perishable flowers, it meant much. This was his offspring's gift, a symbol of happiness now and forever:

A crown of peace.

[alligator-tearzz]

Why Didn’t You Stop Me?

A Javier Escuella x Reader Fanfic.

Tags:

Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Love Triangles, Everything is against this relationship, Angst, Lots of Angst, Angst with comfort, Angst with no comfort, Tragedy, Mentions of grief, Mentions of Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Has Tuberculosis, Slight Canon Divergence, Dutch van der Linde Being an Asshole, Reader is NOT a damsel in distress

Summary

Dealing with the grief of losing your best friend in the Blackwater incident, you tend to find solace in the silent company of your close friend, Charles.

When your conflicted feelings about Javier start to bubble to the surface and paint over your friendship with Charles, you are faced with a new problem. Navigating your feelings for Javier while dealing with the inevitable downfall of the Van Der Linde Gang is no easy feat, especially when friendships and relationships are breaking all around you.

Oh my god guys no way i finally decided to write a Javier Escuella fic after complaining about the lack of Javier Escuella fics 😵‍💫😵‍💫 I’m having so much fun writing this so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!! If anyone wants me to drop the playlist I made for this fic pls let me know bc I am more than happy to!! I just wanna make sure ppl actually want it LMAO

[starlight-and-whiskey]

AO3 Masterlist - RDR2

A Place to Rest Your Bones (In Progress) Your momma always welcomed Dutch and Hosea to take refuge in your small house whenever they needed. As you grow older, you become a safe haven for Arthur. A life told through snapshots of these visits from a young child, until your final visit. Arthur/Reader - Word Count: Ongoing

Draw the Thunder Down (In Progress) Arthur Morgan can be real piece of work. Condescending, antagonistic, and a downright ass. You make no attempt to hide your disdain of him, and pride yourself on giving as good as you get. But when things go awry, the one who might save your life turns out to be the last person you'd ever expect. Arthur/Reader - Word Count: Ongoing

More People than Ghosts Battered and bruised, when Eleanor escaped the infamous Blackthorne gang, she didn't expect to fall into the arms of Arthur Morgan. But can you ever truly leave your past behind? Arthur/OFC - Word Count: 24,068

Roping 101 Arthur finds himself a little...tied-up. After all, camp doesn't provide a whole heap of opportunities to really let go. A hotel room with a sturdy headboard does. Arthur/Reader - 18+ - Word Count: 1,342

Fever and Falling You left the Van der Linde gang years ago, but when Arthur Morgan falls ill, you're persuaded to return. Nursing Arthur back to health rekindles more than just old memories. Arthur/Reader - Word Count: 6,430

My Soul has Gone Away Arthur Morgan doesn't say a lot about Eliza and Isaac. He has nightmares about them a lot though. This is one of them. Word Count: 1,513

Don't Call Me Sweetheart Had a dream, wrote a fic. Aimless smut/fluff about reader getting hurt and Arthur caretaking...of sorts.... Arthur/Reader - 18+ - Word Count: 2,733

We Can't Change What's Done Your world is turned upside down when a crazed cowboy claiming to be from the past barges into your home. Your future in his past is told to you through letters from...well, from yourself. Arthur/Reader - 18+ Chapter - Word Count: 19,622

[sixgunluvr]

Sneak peek below for 18 + ONLY!

Arthur would be the type to grab you by the waist and force you up against a tree, his lips on yours in a searing, desperate kiss. The nighttime air would be filled with the sounds of your muffled moans, his deep growls of satisfaction, and the rustling of leaves as your bodies writhed together.

His calloused hands would grip your thighs, pulling them up around his waist and drawing you into him. With each thrust, you could imagine his cock hitting that spot deep within you, leaving you trembling with the intensity of your building release.

As you let your imagination run wild, the ecstasy gripped you tighter, your thighs clenching around your hand, desperate to feel the delicious friction against you that built and grew with each stroke.

You imagined Arthur, his powerful voice whispering filthy, filthy things into your ear. Crude, dirty promises echoed in your brain as you desperately sought relief from the storm of arousal inside you.

"Fuck, baby," he'd growl. "That sweet little pussy belongs to me.

[rdr2stories]

"Am I somehow so terrible that the woman who birthed me no longer deserved the affection of the man whos love created me?" A rdr fanfiction.

A short fanfiction about Jack Marston.

My uncle stood next to me, the brim of his hat shielded his eyes from the sun coming down from above. He held a fishing pole in his hand, his line ended somewhere out in the middle of the river where he had thrown it. My line is only half his length, my small arms could not handle more, he had caught three fish, I had yet to catch anything. I found fishing boring, the flowers in the grass further up the shore looked pretty, they made a nice necklace to mama.

Father, I can’t help but remember that day when you asked me to fish with you, when you grabbed the bucket and the two fishing rods. You looked awkward, but happy somehow, you didn’t quite know what to do with me, I didn’t quite know what to feel. I still found fishing boring but caught a fish before you did, you were impressed and I was unsuccessful in keeping spite from my voice when I told you it was uncle who taught me. You simply replied “oh did he now?”

Uncle was never a good fisherman, yet the day he taught me he told me I was the second little boy he had taught to fish, I used to wonder why I didn’t have a cousin if that was so, but with time it simply made me realise why he hated you.

He died eight years prior to that fishing trip with you father, meaning it had been eight years since my first fishing trip. I had been just four and when I stood with the rod in my hands again I had been just twelve, it had been just eight years since uncles death, you barely talk about him, your brother, I barely remember what he looks like, but I remember what I had seen him as; my father. He brought me a comic book, and I drew him a drawing of a family, it had been him who had taken the place of the father, not you, I carried not his blood but to me he was my father.

It has been eight years, eight years since your eyes last held disgust, eight years since you last yelled at me, eight years since you decided that you wanted to be my father.

While I forgave I never forgot and I never stopped wondering. Oh father, what did I do for you to reject me? What did I do to be unworthy of your love and why was it first when you decided I fit into your life that you allowed me to be your son? Whatever could a child still growing in the womb have done to make you hate it? I am a creation of love, I shared the blood of the woman you held dear, yet that affection not only did not extent to me it was also cut off from her when she came to carry me.

Am I somehow so terrible that the woman who birthed me no longer deserved the affection of the man whos love created me?

Father, did you forget? That day on the riverbed, had you forgetten the way you used to look at me? The way you never even tried to hide your disgust but would shout it so everyone would hear, you were so ashamed by me that you chose to humiliate your son of four years in front of everyone in the area. I cried to mama that day because my child brain did not understand that you hated her just as much as you did me, that she was just as hurt by the way you shouted at her as I was by the way you looked at me.

Father, did you know I used to hide in my aunt’s skirts yet I could still hear the sound when she slapped your cheek through the fabric? I remember it even now though she has not laid her hand on you for eight years, she wanted you to accept me. I was too young to know then, but I now know what she meant when she said “I don’t care how you feel about me, but at least make an effort with the boy.” Did you yell at her for telling you to love me?

Father, did you know I don’t react to my own name? The one we share? The one given to me by my mother before you decided to give me a nickname because the idea that the two of us would share four letters made you angry? I have never once been called by our name, though it has always been a dream of mine.

When you speak to me, you speak as if your voice has never carried anything but love, I wish it was the truth, and although I am happy it doesn’t give sour comments no more I can’t help but wonder when you decided I was worth your time? Was it first when you saw someone else take the role you had taken for granted?

I know the man you called father, the man I called grandfather, never carried your blood and you never his, yet it was also him you drew on drawings and it was him you taught you to fish. We are similar in that sense and because of that I can’t help but wonder when you took me to that riverbed, did you hope you could teach me to fish?

[ariseur]

How do you think Arthur Morgan would react to a reader who has a great connection with animals? The reader knows how to calm animals, from horses to pigs and chickens, she also ensures that the animals have a good food and she will always be seen with a cat or a dog in her arms.

animal whisperer 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

arthur morgan x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this request was sooo cute!! sorry it took me a little while to complete it, i’ve been working on like fifteen different drafts at once !! 💗

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of animals ( dogs, cats, horses ), mentions of arthur getting bucked off of his horse 😭, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ let me start this off by saying that i think arthur would literally adore you and your presence. like, he already thinks you’re such a beautiful lady and that you’re amazing within your own, but seeing you so domestic with animals does something to him.

❥ arthur’s lived a hard life, he’s calloused and struggles with letting himself enjoy some of the nicer moments in life alone. but when he finds you, it feels like all of the toughness that everybody sees melts away. all he wants is you, and now that’s he’s experienced the feeling of you, he never wants to let that go

❥ if you have a more curt and blunt nature to yourself, but you just melt around animals? oh, man— he’ll do anything to see that side of you. whenever it slips out and he sees you care so much for the horses or actually supply them with hay bales and proper necessities, his eyes will always follow you curiously

❥ and even if you’re a super sweet and outwardly kind person, he’ll still adore you!! he thinks it’s cute how you care so much for animals even if he wont say it to you, he has a fondness for animals too— except it’s more so updating his compendium and hunting them rather than taking them under his wing and feeding them 😭

❥ if you have a dog, he will love that baby to death let me tell you. doesn’t matter if they’re mangy or a mutt or even purebred, he will love them regardless. if we’re going based off what dogs you can get in rdo, i think he’d get along with a chill bigger dog— but even if your dog was energetic or more on guard like a chesapeake bay retriever or a labrador retriever, he will still adore them. i can just imagine arthur with a little guard dog by his side walking through camp as it follows him everywhere. having a dog will probably make him remember his old dog copper as he tells you tales of his journeys with him at night while rubbing your dog behind the ear as it lays its head on his lap.

❥ arthur’s not really a cat person but he won’t mind if you have one!! cats are very independent and he understands that so he’ll give them their space until one day they just like.. drape themselves over his lap and he has no idea what to do. he feels bad if he stands up but like.. he doesn’t know what else to do 😭

❥ and while i’m writing this i’m thinking of how in the game, micah would literally kick the crap out of cain in rdr2 and would scold him for no reason :(((. let me just say that arthur would literally not stand for that ( and yes i only write for high honor arthur, but i feel like regardless of his honor he wouldn’t be okay with it either way ). also why am i imagining micah getting bit or scratched and arthur just like laughing at him— like even him and your animal share a look because do you see this utter buffoonery? micah’s more of an animal than anyone if we’re being honest

❥ if you don’t like seeing him hunt or watching him skin animals, then he’ll suggest you turn away or he’ll point out something in the distance ( probably another cute animal prancing around or something ), and if it’s something small like a rabbit or a bird then it’ll be done in no time and he’ll redirect your attention back to him, jumping back on his horse and saying you guys should continue on with your journey

❥ if you need him to stop by to get any necessities or food for the animals at camp, he’ll stop by on his way back and get them the proper things they need. if you thank him, he’ll just brush it off and say it’s no problem— ( he was like two counties away but he’d gladly go back if you needed him to do so ).

❥ in summary, i feel like arthur would do really great with a partner with pets or a love for animals in general. he doesn’t get the fascination too much but he’ll support you nonetheless, as long as you don’t get hurt trying to pet something that looks cute when it’s not lmfao.

❥ holy crap i need jelp whyisa rthjrorhajgan so fne

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“shh.. calm down, boy.” with your hands held out cautiously, you slowly approached ARTHUR’s bucking horse— the tennessee walker’s chestnut coat glimmering in the sun as it shone on its back. its alarmed neighs filled the air with only the distant rushing of water to accompany it, along with arthur’s huffs behind you as he caught his breath.

“‘s alright.” you cooed at the horse, waiting until its breaths slowed down slightly before you moved closer. your arms slowly extended out to reach his snout, his eyes widened and looking everywhere but you. you softly shushed as you halted your movements. your hand hovered over the white of his proboscis before finally placing a gentle hand on its nose, feeling its heavy breathing upon your arm.

“i still dont— fff.. get how you.. do ‘at.” arthur wheezed, bent over with his knees supporting him as he placed firm hands on them. he let out a breathy laugh, tipping his head up so you could catch a glimpse of his eyes under the brim of his hat. “i dunno what he even gotten spooked over.” he shook his head, watching as you pulled out a small carrot from your pocket and carefully fed it to his horse who munched on it in delight.

you didn’t pay him a glance as you were enveloped in the tenessee walker instead, smiling as you replied, “probably just somethin’ in the grass.”

“fair ‘nuff.” he shrugged, brushing himself off before placing a hand on his back while he winced. arthur sucked some air between clenched teeth as he struggled to stand upright. “think he got somethin’ in my back, too.” with a string of muttered curses, he hunched over once again.

your head turned this time, still focused on giving small pats to the horse’s nose as you tilted your head. brows furrowed, you asked, “need me to get you something from outta town?”

“naw, ‘s fine—“

“arthur, i was heading out that way already,” you pointed a thumb behind you— leading his vision to your horse stationary in the distance, tapping its hooves against the ground as it waited. he looked back at you as you held a gentle smile on your face and continued, “i don’t mind stoppin’ for something.”

arthur sighed, his fingers still kneading his lower back as he let out an occasional groan.

he let the silence take hold on the situation for a second, contemplating his options. letting his fingers twist and grab at the grass beneath him— his eyes flickered between the two horses, and then finally back to you. realizing it wouldn’t make a difference and you’d probably get it anyway, he waved a dismissive hand around and finally nodded his head.

“yeah, sure.”

𐙚 taglist ; @maskedteaser

[midnighvtm4ss]

Rosemary

Summary: Kidnapped in the middle of the night you’re dragged far away from camp by the ruthless Lemoyne Raiders. Your disappearance a painful wound for Arthur who has to, quite literally, fight for your love back.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: angst, hurt/comfort (finallyyy !!!) description of gun fight, kidnapping, heavy themes

wc: 5k

a/n: so we’ve finally come to the end of this silly little story. The comfort is finally here woohoo !! I’m actually kinda proud of this chapter because I tried a different approach to writing and idk,, i like it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who liked Rosemary and filled my days with love, I’ll forever be grateful to all of you. A slightly better version of Rosemary will be posted on my ao3 account along with a new series im writing following John Marston and the reader. The plot for it will be revealed in a few days. As always let me know what you think of this chapter <33 (gif from pinterest)

Pain.

The very first thing you noticed was the pain—a sharp, throbbing agony spreading from the back of your head to the front. You winced as you tried to move your hands to support your head but your limbs felt heavy, almost as if you were trying to lift one of Pearson’s flour bags.

Everything was dark. A muffled piercing sound rang through your skull. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, but failing as the pitch darkness of the thick woods clouded your vision. Trying your hardest to get out of your dream-like state you decided to focus your mind on what exactly was happening, the last thing you remembered was your fight with Arthur and taking a walk into the woods outside camp. And then the pain. Oh, the pain was killing you.

You had to go back to camp and ask Reverend Swanson for some medicine.

You once again tried to raise your hands to your head to check for blood but your action, unfortunately, was unsuccessful. And then you felt it. The rough, scratching sensation of rope digging into your wrists. Your arms were bound tightly behind your back, the coarse braided fibers of the rope biting into your skin with every slight movement. Panic flooded your mind, its freezing tide rushing down on you as you realized that you were tied up.

“She’s comin’ to. We better hurry up before she starts and give us trouble,” A low, hoarse voice cut through your panic haze.

From your lying position, what seemed like the figure of a large man could be made out approaching you in the darkness. You felt yourself being hoisted roughly into the air, before you were slung harshly like a sack of potatoes, across something hard. A horse, you judged by the pungent smell of hay that invaded your nostrils. The saddle dug painfully into your side as the animal began to move forward under the command of its rider. The sudden movement made you almost throw up, your head pounding rhythmically with each rapid beat of hooves on the woods ground. You wanted to scream but no sound escaped your throat, the pain in your body too intense. As the horse rode further and further into the woods you could feel your consciousness slowly slip away,

‘Arthur,’ you managed to utter before darkness took over you.

The second time you awoke, it was due to the biting cold of dawn. The sky above was just starting to lighten, the first rays of sunrise penetrating through the dense treetops, coloring everything in pale hues. You were lying on the ground again, your body stiff and muscles aching. You shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering together, your dress doing a poor job at keeping you warm, as you tried your best to gather your scattered thoughts. The men were still nearby, the sound of their hushed voices mixing with the rustling of leaves blowing in the wind. Despite the overwhelming pain and tiredness you felt washing all over your body you forced yourself to stay awake.

You rolled to the side as best as you could, mud staining the soft colored fabric of your dress and cheeks, trying to find out where they had taken you. You knew you had to think clearly, to find a way out of this nightmare. Your eyes, although blurred, scanned the area in front of you. You were in the Bayou area, the shadow of tall trees and surrounding swamp a dead giveaway of the location and judging by the various bottles of moonshine all over the place, your kidnappers probably took you to an old moonshine distillery camp.

“You sure she’s worth all this trouble?” a high pitched voice asked.

“What, a beauty like her ? Absolutely partner,” another man responded, his tone cruel. “Just keep her quiet until the boss comes back, then we’ll have ourselves a real party,” he added laughing.

Fear gripped your chest like a vise—you could hear footsteps approaching, quick and heavy. Rough hands grabbed you by the shoulders, flipping you over onto your back, your eyes focusing just enough to see the blurred outline of a man’s face looming above you, the bitter smell of liquor and tobacco taking over your senses, the end of his yellow scarf tied around his neck dangling down in front of you. Lemoyne raiders.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery as he smiled down at you. He took out a small pocket knife from his satchel leaning in closer. The blade flashed in front of your eyes as he lowered it down to your cheek, slowly moving it down towards your neck without breaching your skin.

Your breath caught up in your throat, your chest rising and falling rapidly making you lightheaded as the blade touched the sensitive skin of your neck. Your heart pounded so violently in your chest that it made you physically sick. A strained whimper left your lips as tears welled up in your eyes blurring your vision. You were completely frozen in place, terrified under the man’s knife. The man menacingly laughed at the sound you let out, flashing his yellow teeth at you, satisfaction evident in his cold eyes.

He roughly manhandled you up by your arm, his tight grip leaving dark bruises on your skin as your feet dragged in the mud. The man pushed you inside a decaying wooden cabin, its interior surprisingly worse than the exterior, you noted as you were sat down on a small chair positioned in the corner of the entrance room, far away from the door.

Another man, much smaller than the previous one, grabbed you by your hair lifting your face towards his making you wince.

“You’re gonna stay nice ‘nd quiet Miss,” he said before stuffing your mouth with a dirty piece of cloth, the bitter taste of dirt making you gag.

The two men spared you one last glance, a satisfied expression painting their faces, before leaving the cabin to join their other men outside, locking you in.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The usual cheerful chirping of birds coming from the trees surrounding Clemens Point camp acted as a morning alarm for Arthur. The chill morning air biting at his exposed ankles, his blanket messily tangled up his torso as a result of the restless night he spent tossing and turning, waiting for you to come back. He knew that following you was the wrong choice. You wanted some space from him and he respected that, but his heart couldn’t help but ache at the missing warmth of your body in his bed. He waited and waited for you, his eyes growing heavy as he rehearsed in his mind all the ways he could make it up to you, until his body succumbed to its tiredness and fell asleep.

Putting on his hat he lazily walked towards the coffee brewer on the campfire near the ladies’ tents, his mind replaying the events of the night. The way you looked at him as if he had just shoved a knife into your chest, your pretty eyes bloodshot and puffy from the constant crying. Your trembling form making its way out of your shared tent hunting his mind like a vengeful ghost. He loathed himself for that. It was his damn fault. He had to make it right and he’d do anything to take all the pain he caused away.

Sure you had slept with the girls since you never made it back to your tent last night, he expected to find you chatting away with Tilly as the both of you usually prefered to start early on your morning chores, his steps carrying him with a determined aura, but once he made it in front of the ladies’ tents you were not there. His face scrunched up in confusion as a small glimmer of concern planted its root in his head. That same glimmer grew rapidly as he darted his eyes around camp seeing no signs of your presence.

“Arthur,” the gentle sound of Abigail’s voice snapped him out of his turmoil.

“Abigail, hi.” he answered absently, eyes still scanning the camp’s grounds in hope of catching a glimpse of you.

“Look, I don’t want to be nosy but is everything alrigh’ between you two ? I heard you two yelling last night, she was pretty shaken up before you arrived”

“Yes, no—I don’t know. We had an argument, and she didn’t sleep in our bed last night. Can't blame her really, but I can’t seem to find her,” he explained, concern radiating out of every fiber in his body “Have you seen her ?”

“No, not since last night. Maybe she just needs some time alone” she reassured, placing her hand on his shoulder. The gesture soothing his worried thoughts.

“Yeah maybe you’re righ—“ Arthur didn’t get to finish his sentence as the cutting voice of Leopold Strauss interrupted him.

“Herr Morgan, Herr Morgan. Busy, my friend ?” The Austrian man approached him, a folded piece of paper in hand.

Arthur's shoulders dropped. He dreaded working for Strauss, but the older man was persistent, always ready with another fella to squeeze dry for some cash. Sure, the money helped keep the gang afloat, put food on the table, and clothes on the backs of the women and children, but the work, well, the work was dirty. It was the kind of work that gnawed at a man’s conscience.

“What is it now,” Arthur turned to face him, Abigail excusing herself, patting his back before leaving to wake Jack up. Strauss handed him the piece of paper, fortunately for Arthur only one name was scribbled down. ‘Gwyn Hughes’

“He’s an undertaker in Rhodes, he shouldn’t be giving you any trouble but he’s a slippery fellow. Just scare him and collect the debt” he explained. Arthur sighed accepting the job, wondering when all this loan sharking business would come to an end. You always hated when he’d go out dealing with Strauss’ business, saying how the gang should steal from the rich to help the poor and not steal from the poor to help the poor. He knew deep down inside of him you were right, but unfortunately money is money and with the gang’s situation looking far from good, every single cent counted.

He put the paper in his satchel before walking towards the hitching post, his gaze falling on your Tennessee Walker before mounting his horse.

“Oi english!” Sean called out from his lookout post “you look like shit this mornin’”

“Yeah well, don’t I always,” Arthur groaned before signaling his horse to move forward.

The collection of the debt turned out stranger than Arthur ever imagined. As it turned out Gwyn Hughes, the debtor, planned to pay back his debt by robbing a woman’s grave and as if that wasn’t enough he tasked Arthur to clear the cemetery and eventually stop the people from coming in. By noon, Arthur left Rhodes with a diamond brooch, a few bruises on his face and a confused conscience.

He returned to camp exhausted, his body and mind heavy, the dirty work weighed heavily on him as he hitched his horse near camp. All he wanted now was to see you, hear the sweet sound of your voice, even if you’d yell at him. He just wanted to see you. But as he ventured inside the camp, the usual hum of chatter was gone, the atmosphere heavy. Something was off. Abigail and Sadie were the first to come up to him, Abigail face pale while Sadie scanned around camp anxiously.

“Arthur,” the brunette called out, her voice rising with an edge of worry as they hurried towards him. “She ain’t been back”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat “Wha—What do you mean she ain’t been back ? Nobody’s seen her ?”

“Last time I saw her was last night, I was on lookout and saw her headin’ out towards the woods, thought she was goin’ for a walk” Sadie explained, her expression filled with worry. “I asked ‘round camp and no one has seen her today”

His stomach dropped as numerous possibilities of what could’ve happened to you flashed through his mind. Without muttering a word to the two women, Arthur stormed over to Dutch’s tent, the latter standing outside talking to Hosea about the recent developments on the Gray-Braithwaite situation. The moment they saw Arthur approaching their conversation dissolved, the look on his face signaling them that something was off.

“What’s the matter Arthur ?” Dutch asked, concern dancing in his eyes.

“It’s about her, she went out last night and no one has seen her since” he explained, his voice strained. Dutch expression hardened

“You think something happened to her ?”

“I do, yeah”

“Alright then better move quickly, Charles! Bill !” Dutch called, his voice reverberating across the camp calling out the two men. “Arthur’s Miss is missing. I want you two to go out with him, see if you can track her down. The others, I want all eyes on the perimeters of camp, if she comes back you holler. Nobody moves from camp.”

Charles, who had been crafting some poisonous arrows near by the campfire, quickly dropped his task as he listened to what happened. He quickly gathered all his gear and began to move towards the horses, Bill just a few paces behind him.

“We’ll find her, Arthur. She’s gonna be okay” Hosea consoled him, but the older man's words did little to calm Arthur’s racing heart.

Within minutes, the three men were mounted on their horses and heading into the woods where Sadie had last seen you. Arthur’s mind was racing, a dangerous storm of fear and anger bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not after everything that happened.

The woods were dense, the tall trees casting deep shadows that made it difficult to see much of anything, but luckily Charles was an expert tracker, the hunter’s keen eyes scanning every inch of the ground for any sign of you.

After what felt like an eternity for Arthur, Charles held up his hand, signaling the other two men to stop. He dismounted Taima and crouched down, examining something on the ground. Arthur quickly joined him, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what his friend had found.

It was her bracelet, the golden one he had gifted you for your first anniversary. The small wristlet laid in the dirt, the delicate chain now broken. Arthur felt the whole world crashing down on him as he picked it up, his hands shaking in a mix of anger and fear.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

As the hours dragged on, you struggled to stay alert. The pain in your head had dulled to a persistent ache, but every muscle in your body screamed in protest with every small movement. Your wrist burned, blood dripping down your hands as you tried to wriggle them out of your ropes, the process slow and agonizing, but you could feel the ropes loosening further and further. You just needed to grit your teeth through the pain. The men had become less concerned about you, talking and drunkenly laughing amongst themselves, making you nauseous at their inhumanity.

Then a man entered the cabin, followed by two others behind him. He was tall and well built, his hairline receding leaving his hair to hang awkwardly on the sides. By the way he dragged himself around you deduced he was their leader. He crouched down beside you, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath fanning in your face making you scrunch your nose at the rancid smell of his breath. He reached out to check your ropes, tightening them furthermore, the action causing bolts of pain to shoot through your body.

“What was a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone in the woods mh?” He took out the now drenched piece of cloth out of your mouth. You swallowed, feeling your dry throat burning at the action.

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond. Your head lolled to the side as the man stepped back, a sinister grin plastered on his face. Then a harsh, stinging sensation hit your cheek.

“I said what were you doing all alone in the woods, slut” Tears welled in your eyes, both from the pain and the hopelessness of your situation. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Arthur. You had to hold on, had to find a way to escape, if not for yourself, then for him. He would come for you—you knew it deep down in your heart, but you needed to survive until then.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

Arthur’s eyes burned with anger and fear. He clenched his fists around the bracelet, his mind racing. “She was here,” Charles said quietly, his voice grim. “And she wasn’t alone. Look at these tracks, it seems like there was a struggle. She was taken.”

“By who?” asked Bill.

Charles pointed his finger to the ground, where the faint outline of various boot prints led away from their spot. “Judging by the tracks, it looks like a group of men. Three, maybe four. Could be Lemoyne Raiders. They must’ve grabbed her and taken her somewhere nearby. At this point the only place near is the old moonshine distillery.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold at the thought of you in the hands of the Raiders. The Lemoyne Raiders were known for their brutality, his encounter a few weeks prior with Sadie confirmed their reputation. The thought of what they could be doing to you filled him with a rage so intense it nearly consumed him.

“We find their hideout, and we get her out,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, already mounting up on his horse “I’m gonna kill all them goddamned bastards. I don’t care what it takes.”

Mounting their horses they followed the tracks, the three men riding fast through the woods. Thankfully it hadn’t rained so the trail was still clearly visible. It led them deeper into the Bayou region, the trees growing thicker and the air heavier with humidity and tension.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they spotted the moonshine distillery through the trees. It was a crumbling mess of buildings, half-hidden by the vegetation in the shadows, but there was no mistaking it. A few horses were tethered outside, and faint light flickered from the windows of an old cabin.

Arthur’s heart pounded as he dismounted. Charles and Bill followed him as they hid behind a crumbled stone wall, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. Their eyes scanned the area, there was a man guarding the horses while a group of five others were sitting near by the campfire, drinking and laughing with each other. He exchanged a quick glance with Bill and Charles. This was it. They’d kill those bastards outside, storm the cabin, take out anyone who stood in their way, and get you out of there.

“Let’s go, I’ll take that guard near the horses out” Bill whispered, his voice steady with resolve. He made quick work of killing the guard, his knife glimmering just a second in the light before settling into the man’s neck. Charles and Arthur joined Bill in action. Arthur was the first to shoot his gun, the bullet piercing clean through one of the men’s chest. Then all hell broke loose.

Bullets went flying as the Lemoyne Raiders spotted them, the air filled with smoke and gunpowder as both sides fought violently. Their position didn’t offer too much cover, the Lemoyne Raiders, although drunk, fought hard, their guns never stopping. A stray bullet scraped Arthur’s arm but that didn’t stop him as he barely registered it. His mind was singularly focused on one thing—getting to you before it was too late. And in just a few minutes Arthur, Charles and Bill managed to take down all five men outside. Moving quickly out of their cover they reached the front of the cabin, and with a nod from Arthur, they burst through the door.

Chaos erupted as they stormed inside. The few Lemoyne Raiders inside the cabin barely had time to react before Bill and Charles opened fire, cutting them down where they stood. Arthur moved with deadly precision, his eyes scanning the room for any sign ofyou. And then he saw you, tied to a chair in the corner of the room, your face bruised, wrist bloody but alive. You were alive

The last of the Raiders fell as Arthur rushed to your side, his hands quickly working to untie the ropes that bound you so tightly. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, you thought this was just your mind playing tricks but tears welled up in your eyes falling rapidly down your face when you realized it wasn’t your mind playing tricks, it was really him. Arthur had found you.

“Arthur,” you barely whispered, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Arthur murmured, his voice shaking as he finally freed you from the chair. He quickly checked you for more injuries before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go. “I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re safe now.” You were still in shock from the whole ordeal, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—fear from the attack, but also a deep, undeniable relief that Arthur was there with you. In this moment you both forgot your fight, your mixed feelings and both held each other, the intensity of the moment washing over you. You held each other for a few seconds longer before separating. A strange turmoil of emotion took over you as you looked around the room seeing the body of your kidnappers unmoving on the ground. Unable to look at them a second more you diverted your attention back to the group of outlaws in front of you.

The first who broke the silence that fell around you was Bill, awkwardly clearing his throat before adding “We need to get movin’ all this gunfight definitely caught someone’s attention”

Arthur offered his hand to you and you took it, using it as leverage to get yourself up to your feet. Your vision spotting for a second before coming back. You didn’t find in your heart to let go of his hand, his warm skin offering you peace. They escorted you out towards the horses. Arthur helping you up on his before sitting behind you, his strong arms holding you tightly to his chest giving you support. The last thing you felt was Arthur chaste kiss on your temple before you let yourself fall asleep.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the camp as the day slowly faded into night. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding your tent. Inside the tent, the air was still, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

You were finally out of the cot after three days of recovery. The girls had come to check up on you in the morning, bringing you a mug of coffee and a pack of chocolate biscuits Mary Beth had managed to steal from the general store. The pain had dulled, your wounds were slowly healing, but the ache in your heart was still fresh, raw from everything that had happened. Arthur had barely left your side the entire time, his presence a constant, quiet comfort, but the words exchanged between you could count on your fingers. The silence between you two was loaded, filled with everything unsaid, with everything that had been tearing at you long before the kidnapping.

The both of you were now in your shared tent, you sat on the edge of the bed absently tracing the edge of an empty tin cup of peaches with your fingers. The room felt suffocating, but you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding this conversation any longer. The memory of those letters, the sight of Arthur and Mary together in Rhodes, his lies. it all still stung, a wound that hadn’t yet healed.

Arthur was seated on the small chair at the foot of the bed, his head hung low, hands toying with the rope that wrapped around his worn hat, face brim as if bracing himself for what was to come. He had watched over you, cared for you, over the past three days but there was a palpable distance between you two now that neither of you could ignore. You could see the lines of worry etched into his face, the guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

Finally, you broke the silence. Your voice barely above a whisper “Arthur, we need to talk.”

He looked up at you, his aqua eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something else, something that made your heart ache more at his sight. “I know,” he replied quietly, his voice rough and tired from the last couple sleepless nights. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what happened, before all this mess.”

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength you needed to confront him, to confront the hurt that had been tearing at your heart. “You lied to me, Arthur. About the letters, about Mary. About everything.”

He winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought—I thought if I didn’t tell you, it would hurt less. That it wouldn’t matter, ‘cause it was supposed to be nothin’. But it was a mistake. I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, the pain of those memories sharp like the ghost of the tip of the Lemoyne Raider’s knife on your neck. “I saw you two together, Arthur. In Rhodes. You both looked so happy. It felt like, like my worst fears were coming true. Like I was losing you.”

Arthur stood up slowly, taking a tentative step in front of you. His hand reached out, but he stopped mid air, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Mary, she just needed help after the passing of her husband. She didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I didn’t have the guts to shut her down. So I helped her. I didn’t want to drag you into it ‘cause I didn’t want you to worry.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “But you lied, Arthur. And that hurt more than anything.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to make things worse between us. But I can see now that I did that anyway by not bein’ honest.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying to keep your composure. “I love you, Arthur. But I can’t live like this, I can’t live wondering if there’s something you’re not telling me, if there’s a part of you that’s still with her.”

Arthur’s face scrunched with regret. “There ain’t. I swear to you, there ain’t. She’s from another life, a life I walked away from a long time ago. Jt’s you I love darlin’. It’s always been you.”

You looked down at the tin cup in your hands the juice residue sloshing as you toyed with the cup, your fingers trembling with the heavy weight of your next decision. “I don’t know if I can just forget what happened Arthur, it hurt too much.”

He stepped closer, this time his hand gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t expect you to forget. All I’m askin’ you is to try. Try give us another chance. I’ll do better, I swear it. I’ll be honest with you, about everything. No more secrets.”

His touch was warm as his thumb stroked your cheek, comforting you and despite the hurt, you couldn’t deny that bright flame of love that still burned inside of you for him. You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the sheer desperation in them. He made a stupid mistake of thinking for you, but he was now acknowledging his mistake, he was willing to try and be a better man for you, a man you could see your future into.

You let your tears fall freely now as you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, Arthur. I want to believe in you, in us again.”

He kneeled down to your height and held you into his arms, holding you close as you cried against his chest, the tension of the past days finally breaking down. His hand gently stroked your hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort in your ear.

“We’ll make it work, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

[cowboyfromh3ll]

gonna keep the shy reader hcs party going and kindly request how arthur, john, and charles (and any other characters you might have added) would tease her once they’ve been together for a little while. who likes flustering her the most and who would get away with it the longest before she realizes he’s doing it on purpose 👀 as for the smutty part, what’s their favorite ways to rile her up before taking pity and giving her what she wants (i imagine some would be nicer than others lol)

Shy!Reader HC Ft. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith (Smut)

Y'all love your shy reader hcs

Warnings: smut

Arthur Morgan

I feel like Arthur wouldn't be too big of a tease but when he is, they're very non consequential things

You fell off your horse? You were hunting together and missed the shot by a lot? You hurt yourself trying to do something daring on a job? He'd be like omg come over here lemme fix it for you baby

His goal is never to make you feel less than or somehow incompetent with his teasing

But oh you got syrup all over your face and hands? You buttoned your shirt incorrectly? You snort when you laugh? He's gonna keep going until you're blushing and giggling at him to stop

Even if there's nothing wrong with your outfit he'll go over to you and find SOMETHING to fix

Will spend an unnecessary amount of time fixing your collar or scarf

It'd probably be pretty easy to tell what he's trying to do, not very slick

Would compliment you to try and make you blush but he just ends up making himself blush

If you're insecure over something he'll make sure to compliment that aspect of you over and over again

Flirts with the idea of marriage and kids one day and that'll have you SWOONING

Sometimes he'll rub your belly when you talk about it and it'll make you CRUMBLE

NSFW

Oh he's gonna be such a big tease, and he'll do it perfectly

Does it in a way that can be passed off as accidentally and goes unnoticed by anyone else but you

Rubs his crotch on you while making his way past behind you

Subtly brushes your thigh or ass with his hand

Kisses up your neck until you're all hot and bothered and pulls away before saying he's gotta do something

If y'all are sitting around a table in a group setting he'll have you on his lap so you can feel him harden. Keeps playing poker like nothing

If you're sitting next to him he'll place his hand on your inner thigh but never moving it close enough to where you want it

His favorite way to rile you up is to touch you all over during make outs then never going past that

Takes pity on you when he sees you get genuinely frustrated, thinks it's hilarious though

Charles Smith

He's so subtle with it that you wouldn't even catch it until a few seconds later

You gotta think about it before you truly get it

You could complain about how hot it is and he'll recommend you take off your clothes

Oh you say your backs hurting? Charles recommended course of action is visiting him at his tent tonight so he can fix it wink wink

You'll actually show up and he'll actually be surprised you haven't gotten it yet

Will give you a massage nonetheless

Would take you a while to pick up on it and that's the beauty of it to Charles

Would do things without the intention of making you blush but if he notices something does he'll keep at it

You like it when he plays with your hair? Then he'll braid it and put flowers in it and rave about how beautiful it is

Hands you flowers and tells you it reminded him of you

Makes you little trinkets and objects and says the most flowery things about how he tried to make it a fraction of how beautiful you are

NSFW

Like his aforementioned forms of teasing, he'll do just that

In fact, in times where you do catch on, he'll pretend like he never meant it that way and you're the one who's trying to get something going

Will give you THAT LOOK when you're together in public and you BOTH know you won't be able to do anything for hours

During make outs he'll rub your inner thighs or ass or sides but never touching you where you need it.

His hands are very light, his touches never heavy handed

He'd give in real easy to you. Just pout or give him puppy eyes and he'll give in

Even being bold enough to tell him what you want will have him in a trance

He's a giver so he can never deny you for too long for his own satisfaction

John Marston

Oh my God his teasing definitely goes too far

I don't mean that in a cute way I mean he probably ends up hurting your feelings because he does not know when to stop

Sucks at flirting

Your shy nature just makes it more awkward

But once you get used to his failed attempts at being coquettish you'll be able to recognize when he's trying to flirt

Is probably super obvious when he's trying and when he's successful he'll actually make you blush

His successful attempts are probably unintentional. Says something he won't think will land but is surprised when it works

Excuses himself for a moment and celebrates a few feet away before turning like normal

He has like a time to cool down on successful flirting. Only successful once every three days or something like that

Tries to compliment you but it comes out awkwardly and stiff

If you say something back slightly flirty he's gonna blank and not know how to continue from there

As soon as he approaches you and says "uhh.. hey" you already know what he's trying to do

Opposite of Arthur so he WILL tease you for falling off your horse

Awkwardly hugs you and pats your shoulder if you cry while apologizing profusely

NSFW

Can't rile you up for too long without exciting himself

Keeps his arm on your lower back and dips his fingers inside your waist band

Type to pull on your overalls (if you wear em) and lets them snap back into you

Will come up behind you and rub his stubble into your neck before whispering filthy things into your ear

Likes it when you put up a little playful resistence

If y'all are sitting down somewhere together he'll put his hand on your ankle before running it up under your skirt

Ends up giving in mostly because HE can't take it anymore and is too excited

[degredationfanfics]

Nsfw, very erotic no cap fr. Piss kink mention. Power Dynamic, BODY HAIR....

"Hell yeah, boy... nice and slow," Bill murmurs with a sly grin, his expression one of wild mischief. Your nose is right against his bare exposed rear.

A few days earlier, the gang had caught you. They treated you... decently.

You were one of them O'Driscoll boys.

His big hand smacked across your face, and his chubby fingers gripped your hair. He was facing you because he had taken a liking to you. He always had a thing for rival gang members—probably because of the thrill of being so close to one. He was such a deviant. And honestly, out of everyone here, you really, REALLY didn't think that big grizzly guy was fucking gay. As in homosexual.

"Whatchu waitin' for? Go on!" It was covered in hair, not a single bald spot. Thick and dense... It would have pained you to acknowledge it, but deep down, that kind of turned you on. Gosh, you were so naughty. You could barely see his hole, and the smell? It was the true scent of a man—musky and unapologetic. You took one deeper sniff, curious.

Good thing you saw him wash himself down by the river minutes earlier. Thinking about it, you were kind of grateful for the gesture. Sure, water is water, and HIS scent wasn't going to go away, but any kind of dirt wasn't going to bother you.

When you started licking, Bill's body immediately reacted. He shivered, and you felt his hole loosen up with enjoyment. You saw his big cock twitch, legs raised, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and the other still gripping your hair as you began groping his meaty buttocks and digging deeper with your tongue and nose. It tickled him.

Bill's head jerked back, letting out a low, pleasured grunt as his eyes mingled with yours.

"Now, if you go on like that, I might just share my meal with you," he whispered, god forbid anyone hear him say that. He would be so ashamed—being nice to the enemy? That was bad. Worse than fucking with them. At least he kind of had Dutch's agreement to do this. Sort of...

You nodded, playing with your tongue. You went all the way down his crack, licking slowly up to the crease of his balls. You did this a few more times, three in total. "Aight... that's enough." Bill glanced at his cock; it was erect, but it wasn't enough. The fun was just getting started. Oh boy, were you going to have plenty.

He wanted more control over you; he wanted to see you muffle and suffer just a bit. Just to make you get the message that if you had simply chosen a better gang, the Van der Linde gang, this kind of pleasure could have been daily.

Bill grabbed your neck effortlessly, pinning you down on the camping bed. It must have been a really good one because it didn't break even when you slammed back first into it. You looked at Bill, fear growing in you. But you felt slightly reassured when you glanced at his stocky figure, fat laying in all the right places, a sexy gut full of beer and all. It wasn't the unhealthy kind; it was the STRONG type. Only your sight quickly revolted when the dim lantern light was shadowed by Bill's own silhouette hovering over your chest.

He looked back at you, aiming with precision, laying right onto your face, hole to mouth. He moaned, lust rushing through his blood. Bill's hands touched his bushy chest, his own fingers tracing his nipples and eventually resting on your legs. His eyes caught you enjoying this. Your pants didn't lie. While he was naked, you were still fully clothed. Bill wanted to keep it like that, but now his need to see and feel you grew bigger and bigger.

You couldn't breathe as well as before, and feeling him grind onto your face was overwhelming. He was heavy, and he clearly didn't care. He only lifted himself ever once in a while when you stopped moving.

Bill was ass-fucking your face, and you were licking him so well he was leaking. He unbuttoned your pants in a rush, setting you free as he, in return, sucked your dick. It wasn't an act of love or anything like that. He was sucking it like he needed it. He depended on it; all that booze had made him hungry. It was sloppy, and so were you. You left saliva and kisses all over his behind; you were basically trapped down there. The scent of sweat and your desire for more melted together.

"You're well packed..." He was staring at your cock. He was overdoing it; you knew it. His tone didn't seem all that impressed, but judging by the way he was jerking you off, that didn't matter.

He sucked, you licked. His ass was gaping wider? Your cock was growing harder. And when you could swear you were about to cum, Bill put his thumb on your urethra, cutting you off. You moaned, confused. The vibration of your voice teased his needy ass.

"This still ain't enough... I want more..."

In a smooth motion, his weight lifted off your face, and you instantly took a deep breath full of oxygen. Gee, even the air carried his scent. You spat out the tuft of hair you almost swallowed, brown and thick short locks landing on the grassy ground. You squinted when you felt him put weight on your pelvis, your bony pelvis so frail and unimpressive compared to his.

He took you by both wrists, pulling you into him. Bill smiled like a maniac when he felt your hardened third leg slide into him, smooth as butter. Your hands naturally rested on his hips.

You were doggy-styling him now; that was how he liked it best. He impatiently slammed himself onto you, taking it in properly.

"You gonna fuck me or what, boy?!" Bill was kind enough to do it once. But his wild, animalistic stare back at you was all you needed to start thrusting into him, hitting his G-spot like there was no tomorrow. Because truthfully, there probably wasn't going to be one if you didn't satisfy him enough.

"mhn, goddamn..."

"Urgh!..."

He was so vocal. You were trembling like a leaf, keeping a steady rhythm no matter what. Your hands pinched his generous ass cheeks, feeling his hair as you laid kisses on his neck. His insides were warm, surprisingly narrow. It didn't seem to fit a big guy like that to have such a tight hole. But hey, it was easier to make things come out of this bad boy than to make them go in.

Bill wasn't even there anymore; he was a mess. He whined in an unfamiliar tone that was quite high-pitched and out of character. His face squashed into his pillow, hands jerking himself off fast and mechanically. It seemed like he was cumming, but most of it was piss. That drunken fool... He then took most of his remaining energy to give you a little boost, his body mirroring your moves just to get you high and dry. His arm came around your neck as he kissed you clumsily.

His cock twitched when the ever-familiar sticky goo seemed to have drained for good. He felt lightheaded. But you? You were still going.

That whole thing—seeing him like that, the kiss, him being so drunk, his piss, and that stupidly sexy musky smell he still carried around—you rubbed your fingers on the mess that stained the bed, collected some, and dug it into his mouth.

Bill's eyes widened, flushing red. He never would have guessed he tasted this good—a perfect blend of sweetness with a hint of salt. You explored his mouth and throat with fervor, each movement met with his eager consent. He surrendered completely, relinquishing the dominance he once held over you, savoring every second of this shared intensity.

But he probably simply gave up control, overwhelmed by the exhaustion that weighed heavily on both his body and intoxicated mind. You kept fucking him relentlessly, fast and hard. He screamed, whimpered, and groaned. Your hand shaky, you spanked him firmly, as if he were a disobedient mule. His fat ass wiggled from the shock. Bill tried to bite back a moan; he wasn't dumb—he knew what was coming.

You.

He closed his eyes, holding his breath, a large satisfied smile tailored on his face.

Finally, you hit his G-spot one last time with all your might, and you finally exploded inside him. It was the biggest orgasm you ever experienced. You really did a number on him, filling him up like a puffy pastry. Poor guy was probably going to feel this for the whole week...

And so, there you were, back at square one—tethered to that STUPID tree, a silent observer as the Van der linde bustled around you doing their day to day activites. The women giggling as they walked past you.

You knew they knew.

Suddenly, you felt a Big hand on your shoulder. A chill ran down your spine. You couldn't turn back to see who it was but you were certain this was now and today that everything would end for you. You told them everything you knew After all, they didn't needed to keep you around. A wave of dread washed over you, and you braced yourself.

"Time to collect," You recognized that voice!

Bill untied you with rough urgency, and once your wrists were free, relief grew. He stepped in front of you, locking eyes with that same hungry gaze from the night before. You couldn't help but wonder if he still full of your cum, the tought made you swallow nervously.

"Now, don’t look at me like that, cowboy," he teased, half-serious, a goofy grin breaking the tension. After a brief, awkward silence, he turned to retrieve the bowl of deer stew he'd saved for you.

"I don’t usually share," he said, his tone softening, "but I figured you could use this more than I can."

[mrm0rgansw0man]

hi !! can i have a more angsty arthur fic of the reader admiring him from afar and wanting to give him all the love he’s deserving of but feels she doesn’t have the chance to ? :)))) happy ending would be nice maybe arthur reads a note of hers !

god i love writing angst. LETS DO THISSS

hope you enjoy!! Xx @risingtripletaurus

I can let you down, I can make you Hurt.

Bitter, freezing cold. That was all you felt. Just the cold and the ache in your heart. Your whole chest ached, from the cold or from the emotions you were feeling you didn't know.

This whole Blackwater fucked up mess was just what you needed. You had already been struggling, being new to the gang and trying to help out and earn your keep. And, not only that, but Arthur Morgan hated you. You were sure of it, you had no clue what you did to offend him but just until right before this mess he started pulling away from you.

He was always friendlier with all the women of the camp, but you and him had taken a liking to each other. But one day, it just stopped. The hellos. The cups of coffee he'd bring you every morning. The shared cigarettes. The random talks, it was so nice. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fallen for him. You though he could be falling for you too, but looks like you were wrong. You knew it was too good to be true.

"You're so down." Charles said simply. You looked up at him, not even having noticed he came into the cabin you had been sitting in.

"I can practically feel it in the air around you." He continued. Your eyes flit away from him and back to the floor. You watched a few snowflakes melt into your boots.

"Why do you care?" You asked quietly. "I'm sure you've got much better things to worry about than my problems."

Charles shrugged. "Just wanted you to know I'm here if you want to talk. I'm not doing much lately, cause of this hand. So I've noticed more."

Tears welled in your eyes. You blinked them away before you thought Charles could notice. But he still did.

"I've never seen you like this before. I'm worried about you, (Name)." Charles said. His voice more stern now. "Ask anyone, it feels like and looks like, no offense, that the life has been drained out of you."

"It's jus' the cold..." You mumbled. "I'm fine Charles.."

"You know, I was sitting in this cabin with you for hours. You didn't move once. You didn't even know I was here, did you? And Abigail came in to try and talk to you, but it was like you were in a whole different world."

Uh oh. Fuck. He's got you there. You didn't even know Charles had come in, let alone Abigail.

"Have you ever had to love someone from a distance Charles?" You asked weakly. You finally lifted your head enough to meet his eyes.

"No." Charles said with a sigh. "But I can't imagine it's a great feeling."

"It's not." You said with a sniffle. "Not at all."

"Can I ask who it is?" Charles asked you cautiously.

You let out a choked cry. You took a few deep shaky breaths, trying to keep yourself together. It was getting harder and harder by the second. God dammit Charles why do you have to care?

"Arthur." You whispered, wiping away the few tears that managed to escape your eyes. "It's Arthur."

Charles didn't say anything, he only nodded. So you kept talking.

"He was so kind to me when I first started riding with you. We got on real well too." You said, finally starting to weep. Who cares anyways? "I started falling for him. Quick and hard, and could you blame me?"

"No, I was convinced he was sweet on you." Charles admitted. Though all it did was send more tears floding out of your eyes.

"He'd bring me coffee in the mornings. We'd talk. He always said Hi to me at the very least when we crossed paths." You said softly. "And he made sure I was eatin'- I mean you know how I was when I first got here."

"Always sick and thin as paper." Charles said grimly, having been on of the few people that helped take care of you during that hard time.

"Neither of us sleep very well, he'd come find me or I'd go find him. We had such nice talks on those nights, he opened up to me. Like really, really opened up to me. And I opened up to him too." You continued, your cries becoming harder and your voice rising.

"I don't know what I did!" You cried. "But one day it all just stopped! He wouldn't talk to me, he hasn't even looked me in the eyes Charles! I don't know what's wrong with me! I just want to love him!"

"Oh (Name)..." Charles started, but you cut him off.

"He deserves so much Charles!" You sobbed. "He is such a good man, no matter what he says when he looks in the mirror! I just want to love him, he doesn't even need to love me back! Do you know how pathetic that is? How disgustingly pathetic I am to love him like this!?"

You inhaled and exhaled at a frantic pace, running your hands over your tear soaked face. It was too much. You couldn't breathe. You wrapped your arms around yout face and buried yourself in your knees. Charles rushed to your side, kneeling down next to you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders and just stayed there, giving you something to hang onto. Keeping you grounded.

You finally lifted your head and met Charles's eyes, only to find them already locked on you.

"I just want to love him. T-that is all I w-want." You managed to get out between sobs. "And now I've lost m-my chance! I can't keep going like this Charles! He's- he's been through so much. That poor man has suffered and s-suffered and I just want t-to make him feel like he deserves something!"

"Arthur-"

"Needs me! And I need him to need me because look how badly I need him! If he doesn't love me the-then what am I supposed to do?!"

You broke apart, sobbing harder than you were before. Probably harder than you have ever cried in your life. Charles caught you, and he wrapped his arms around you. He let you sob and scream into his chest until you couldn't breathe.

"I just want a chance I just want a chance! I want to know what I did wrong!" Was all you could say, over and over again. Charles rocked you back and fourth, letting you cry yourself out. It took at least an hour, but eventually your cries had lulled to a stop.

Once your breath had returned to normal, Charles spoke.

"I'm going to go get Miss Roberts and Miss Gaskill. They'll take care of you. I'm going to talk to Arthur, don't you worry about this for another second." Charles said soothingly. It was all you could do to nod a yes at him. He pulled away from you, but right as he was about to reach the door you called out for him.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" You asked horsely. Charles looked back at you and gave you a small smile.

"First of all, I like you. Quite a bit, your a good person (Name)." He said simply. "And secondly, you haven't moved from that spot for over a day and you haven't even noticed. Someone needed to do something."

And with that, he left. You sat in silence until Abigail and Mary-Beth showed up. They tried to talk with you but you didn't have the strength to even reply to them. They accepted this, and helped you to your room and laid you down in your cot.

You laid there for what felt like hours, completely lost in thought.

"Glad to see your feelin' better, Miss." Arthur said, handing you a tin cup filled with scalding hot coffee. You took it gratefully.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan." You said with a smile. "I've got to say I'm liking your company more and more each morning you visit me."

"Oh don't be too flattered, your jus' the only one up as early as me." Arthur said with a smirk, playfully elbowing you in the side. You chucked and hoped Arthur didn't see the blush spreading across your face.

"Well a girl can dream!" You said, that same flirty smirk crossing your face.

"Arthur! I need to talk to you!" Dutch called.

Arthur groaned in annoyance. He turned to leave, but at the last moment he turned back. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

"Meet me at the campfire tonight. We never get t' talk without gettin' bothered." Arthur said. You nodded your head happily as he turned to leave, running of to do whatever the hell Dutch wanted him for.

You felt yourself smiling at the memory, even if it was just a weak one.

That night at the campfire was the first of many, you two met every night you could. And that was when you truly began to fall for Arthur, those nights by the burnt out campfire. The last night it happened, you told him about your life before joining the gang, and why you were so sick when you first arrived.

"No one in my family was right." You said with a deep sigh. "My daddy hung himself in our living room right before my mama had me. And since then she just never had any happy in her head."

"Jesus.." Arthur mumbled. "Was your Mama good t'you, at least?"

"Pfft, no!" You said with a laugh. You took another swig of whiskey from the bottle Arthur stole from Pearson for you. "Beat me halfway to hell every other day. I think she had some disease. Think I might have it too, honest to god."

"D'ya really think that?" Arthur asked, taking a swig of his own whiskey bottle.

"I jus' get so low sometimes.. Not enough happy in my own head." You said sadly. "Not something I can really help, but it happens. Part of the reason I was so sick when I first got here, that and being out in the elements."

"What a woman you are, Miss. (Name)!" Arthur said with a laugh. "Survivin' yer' Mama, survivin' runnin' away into the wild, and survivn' yourself!"

Arthur and you spent a lot of time talking about your past life that night, so much time you had finished that whole bottle of whiskey. Bittersweet tears filled your eyes as you remembered what happened next.

You stood up from the ground, and wobbled your way over Arthur and poked him in the chest.

"Tell me, Mr. Morgan!" You slurred. "What have you survivedddd?"

"Oh sweetheart, we ain't got time for that tonight." He said, shaking his head at your drunken boldness.

"Pleaseeee Arthurr??" You whined, a wrong step sending you tumbling down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively, and you smiled happily. It was a giddy childlike smile that Arthur would never forget.

Arthur had no idea what possessed him to do so, but he gulped down the last of his whiskey and started talking.

"My mama died when I was real young..." Arthur said, his voice going quiet. "My daddy was a thief, a petty one at that.. Wasn't even a real father. He wasn't good t'me at all. The lawmen got him when I was jus' eleven."

" 'M so sorry Arthur..." You said, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tight. He rested his chin on your head and returned the hug, god it was so nice to be held like this. To be able to feel freely.

Arthur had no clue why he was so drawn to you from the very start, but ever since he first laid his eyes on you he couldn't get enough. He knew he was a goner, but he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't terrify him. Hell, sitting here like this with you terrified him! But even with the fear in the back of his mind, he could feel the whiskey clouding his thoughts and what little remained of the walls he so constantly put up crumbling.

Arthur went on about his family for a bit, and then told you all about getting taken on by Dutch and Hosea. He told you about what a deliquent he was, told you about when they brought John in. And Miss. Tilly. Then he told you all about a girl named Mary Linton, and about the love they used to share. You listened intently to every word, even in your drunken state. You prayed to whatever god above that you remembered this all tomorrow.

"I had a boy once." Arthur said, after a long stretch of silence. "His name was Issac. He passed on, though."

"Oh Arthur." You whispered, finding his hand and holding it tight. "I'm so sorry!"

"Some bastards killed him 'nd his Mama. Eliza." Arthur said, his voice breaking. "Shot 'em. All for a measly ten dollars."

"What is wrong with this world.." You murmred. Arthur just shook his head.

"I wasn't there f'him much. I shoulda been a better father to my little boy..." Arthur mumbled, his words starting to slur. "I was good to them when I was 'round, but that doesn't make up for nothin'. I'm a horrible person, (Name)."

You sat up, moving your legs around Arthur so you were straddling him. You grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"Did you love his Mama? Did you treat her well?" You asked fiercely.

Arthur nodded his head frantically. The change in you startled him.

"Did you play with your boy? Did you hold him? Did you tell him stories, or sing him to sleep?" You pressed on, even with the tears forming in Arthur's eyes.

"Y-Yes!" Arthur said, stumbling over his words. "He was small, but he still liked to run. He liked being held-"

Arthur stopped, a strangled cry escaping his throat. You took your hands off of Arthur's face and wrapped both of your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms back around you, burying his face in your hair and neck. Arthur thought that he should want to leave, but he realized he'd rather be buried alive then leave your arms right now.

"His favorite was 'Hush Little Baby'" Arthur said softly, you could feel the tears falling from his eyes now. "I was so happy to sing it to him the last time I...."

You sat up- which scared the wits out of Abigail and Mary-Beth-and covered your eyes. Trying to block out the image of what came soon after that.

The comfort you brought Arthur. The way he held your face in his hands. The kiss, so passionate. You both tasted of lust, whiskey, and pain. It was a fiery mix of emotions that sent you both stumbling into his cot and ripping off each other's clothes.

And then he wanted nothing to do with you.

"Honey? What's wrong?!" Abigail said, she wrapped her arm around you and Mary-Beth took your hands off of your face and held them.

Charles had given them a brief explanation of what had happened, but they were anxious for him to get back. They wanted to know what Arthur had to do with you being in an absolute state. They sent each other worried glances.

"When will Charles be back?" You asked with a sniffle. You leaned into Abigail and held Mary-Beth's hands tighter.

"Shouldn't be much longer, I promise honey." Abigail said.

"Want to tell us what's wrong?" Mary-Beth asked softly, she was testing the waters.

You looked between your two friends, and smiled weakly. God, you loved them so much.

"Okay."

»»———-　　———-««

"Arthur? Are you here?" Charles called out before going right into Arthur's room.

Charles found Arthur sitting on the edge of his cot. He was reading a letter.

"What is it, Charles?" Arthur said, still not looking up from the paper in his hands. Arthur didn't even seem like he was listening to Charles.

"Put that down. I need to talk to you." Charles said, his voice becoming more serious.

Arthur re-read the words written on the paper one last time before looking up at Charles.

'Arthur, please tell me whatever I did. I just want to talk to you again. Please, just talk to me whenever you read this. Your true friend, (Name)'

"You know, (Name) isn't doing good. She's been sitting in the corner of her room, curled up. Not moving, not talking. Nothing." Charles said simply.

Arthur's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. Charles continued.

"I sat there with her for hours, and she didn't move a muscle. I watched Abigail come in and try and talk to her, but it was like she was talking to a wall." Charles said. "And that was after Molly had tried to talk to her for hours the night before. She's the one who came and got me."

"Is..is she alright?" Arthur asked, his nerves evident in his voice. He knew this was his fault. He could feel it in his bones. Oh god, he was a fucking idiot,

"No! She's not alright!" Charles snapped. "She barely even looks human! When I finally got through to her all she could do was cry! And she was crying about you!"

"No.." Arthur said softly. "Where is she now? I need to go see her-"

"You can go see her when we're done here." Charles said sternly. "Arthur, did you know she was in love with you?"

Arthur ran a hand over his face. Oh great, now he'd really done it.

'I'm such a piece of shit..' Arthur thought to himself. 'God.. Oh my god..'

"No." Arthur said. "I jus' thought... I don't know what I thought! I jus' didn't think she loved me."

"I just want to love him. He doesn't even need to love me back." Charles said with a sigh. "That's what she said to me, while she was sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe. And then 'I just want a chance! I want to know what I did wrong!'"

"I get yer' point!" Arthur shouted. "Jesus christ..."

"She's broken. Between having to be here, the whole mess in Blackwater and you completely disregarding her, she is broken." Charles said.

"I KNOW GOD DAMMIT I GET IT!" Arthur shouted, standing up from his cot. Charles stood firm, crossing his arms over his chest. He had said his part, now it was Arthur's turn to speak.

"Does.. Does she really love me?" Arthur asked weakly, taking off his hat and running his hands through his hair. Charles nodded. " I thought she was just' sweet on me a little bit, I thought I was jus' sweet on her.."

"Do you feel different now?" Charles asked. When he joined this gang, he never expected this would be the role he took on. Oh well.

Arthur stilled for a moment. He knew how he felt about you. But how could he even say it out loud, knowing how love had turned out for him in the past?

Mary had to leave him. Her father hated him because of his life as an outlaw.

His love for Eliza and his child only got them shot.

How could he condemn you, someone who has suffered and suffered, to a life with him? He wanted nothing more than to make you feel loved, protected, and cared for. He wanted to hold you like he did that night, to keep you close. To kiss away all your pain and never let you feel like you don't deserve it. Because you deserved the world, Arthur just didn't think he could give it to you.

And he was scared. He was so scared, so instead of being a decent fucking human he ran. And now look at what he did to you. Sent you right back to that dark part of your mind where you never wanted to be stuck in again.

"Yes." Arthur said finally. "But, how could I even try anythin' with her? I don't want nothin' happening to her cause of me! She deserves so much more than I can give her!"

"Arthur, I don't think you understand." Charles said with a deep sigh. "She doesn't want more! She isn't expecting anything of you! All she wants is. you."

"Why does this matter to you anyways! Who are you, t'come in here and talk t'me about this!" Arthur spat. "You have no right-"

"Yes I do!" Charles said, his voice rising. "I took care of (Name) when she first joined us, so I'll continue to take care of her now! She can't function! She needs you, Arthur! And I have a feeling you need her too."

Arthur stood there, glaring at Charles. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to scream foul things at him, for getting into his head like that. But he also wanted to thank him. For being there for you while he failed miserably.

"Figure it out. And then you go see her." Charles said coolly. "Don't go see her like this, she's not strong enough."

Charles left, Arthur's cold stare practically ushering them out the door. Arthur stood there for a few more moments, not really knowing what to do with himself. Charles had sent his mind reeling.

He knows what he wants to do. He wants to go to you, hold you, kiss you, tell you how sorry he is. Tell you that he loved you so much but he got scared, and instead of facing it like a man he ran like a boy. He never wanted to hurt you, but look how bad you were hurting now!

You loved him. And he loved you, but Arthur ran away and now would you ever be able to forgive him? He hadn't even told you he loved you! Arthur was sure he had already ruined everything. Not to mention the two of you slept together, which Arthur didn't even know if you knew it happned or not you were both so god damn drunk!

Arthur sat down and sighed. He took out the letter you left for him to find. He read it again, only this time he stopped over a certain line.

"Just talk to me."

It echoed in his mind. Arthur could practically hear your voice, begging him to talk to you. And he knew what he had to do. Arthur folded the letter up and placed it neatly in his pocket, before placing his hat back on his head. He made a beeline for the hut you were staying in with Molly.

»»———-　　———-««

You had just finished telling your sob story to Abigail and Mary-Beth when Charles returned, not even giving them a moment to react.

You didn't even look up at him when he came back, feeling so weak having to relive what happened with Arthur yet again.

"He's coming. I don't know when, he needed to collect himself. But he'll be here to see you, (Name)." Charles said softly. You nodded, reminding yourself to go and thank him properly when you were better.

"Miss Roberts, Miss Gaskill, please stay with her until Arthur gets here." Charles asked them. Of course they agreed. And then Charles left, god he needed a drink.

Abigail and Mary-Beth stay there with you, wrapped up in blankets in your cot. It was a comforting couple of minutes of silence before Arthur practically broke the door down and rushed into your room. Abigial and Mary-Beth said some hurried goodbyes to you before rushing out of the room.

You knew Arthur was there, but you couldn't look at him. You continued to lay down on your cot, wrapped up in blankets and facing the wall.

Arthur looked at you for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and starting to speak.

"(Name)" Arthur said softly. "Can I uh.. May I sit with you?"

You rolled over slowly, and forced yourself to meet Arthur's eyes. They looked just as broken as yours did when you looked in the mirror. You nodded yes weakly, and Arthur sat down on your cot next to you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you closed your eyes. Arthur saw the tears flowing from them.

"I'm so sorry honey." Arthur said with a shaky sigh. "I should never have pushed you away like that."

"You fucked me." You spat, opening your eyes to look at him. "You fucked me! And then you wouldn't even look me in the eyes!"

"You know!?" Arthur gasped, completely shocked. He didn't think you were sober enough to remember what happened that night.

"I OPENED UP TO YOU ARTHUR!" You yelled, finding the strength in your anger to sit up in your bed. "I GOT CLOSE TO YOU- I LET YOU IN! YOU KNOW THINGS ABOUT ME KNOW ONE ELSE DOES!"

Before you even knew what you were doing, you got up and started pounding your fists against Arthur's back. He was caught off guard, so you got a couple solid punches in before he turned around and grabbed you by the wrists.

"You FUCKED ME! AND THEN YOU THREW ME TO THE SIDE LIKE SOME WHORE! YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU! AND ALL FOR WHAT!? ALL FOR WHAT ARTHUR MORGAN!? IS THAT ALL YOU WANTED FROM ME FROM THE START!?" You cried, not knowing when the shouting stopped and your tears began.

You fought to get your wrists out of Arthur's grasp. But he wouldn't let you go. In fact he held on to you tighter, pulling you firm against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tight and without even knowing what he was doing started peppering your head with kisses.

You punched, you sobbed, you screamed, you fought like a bat outta hell trying to get out of his grasp. But Arthur wouldn't let you go. He took every hit, every foul name and every insult.

Eventually, your thrashing stopped. Your sobs turned into small shaky breathes, and instead of punching him your arms were wrapped around his neck and you crawled into his lap. Arthur started rocking you back and fourth, and was whispering comforting things in your ear.

"I didn't know you remembered.." Arthur said softly. "Honey.. I thought I took advantage of you. I didn't think you'd wanna sleep with me if you were sober."

Arthur felt you softly shaking your head, but you didn't speak. So Arthur kept talking.

"I never woulda' acted how I did if I had known you remembered that night." Arthur whispered. "And, I can't lie to ya' honey. I was afraid. I didn't feel worthy of somthin' like what we had going on. I wasn't thinkin' right- actually I don't think I was thinkin' at all."

"Do you love me?" You asked, your voice a broken whisper. "Arthur I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. You know just as well as I do that there is some type of connection between us that we didn't even spark ourselves. Everyone saw it happen before their very eyes."

Arthur looked down at you, and you were looking up at him already. You looked like a scared little girl, and it broke Arthur's heart. How could he have done this to you?

Arthur swallowed thickly. It was now or never. He was afraid, but his fear meant nothing. Nothing mattered when it came to you. Arthur couldn't bare to lose you, especially not like this.

"Yes." Arthur breathed out, a small chuckle leaving him. "God, I love you so much. Please forgive me f'being such a goddamn moron-"

Before Arthur could continue, you grabbed Arthur by his coat collar and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Arthur moved his hands to cup your face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that fell from your closed eyes.

You kissed until the both of you needed to pull away for air, and then Arthur kissed you again. He never thought he'd be able to feel your soft and loving lips against his own ever again, so he made sure to savor every moment.

Once you had both caught your breath, Arthur sat there. He held your face in his hands. The love in his eyes sent a blush to your cold and tear stained face.

"I love you (Name) (Last-name)." Arthur said, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "S'much. More than you'll ever know. More than I'll ever be able to show ya' sweetheart."

You let out an airy laugh, and for the first time in a long time you felt like you could breathe. Your chest wasn't heavy anymore and it felt like your heart was actually beating.

"But I sure as hell will try. Like you said, there is somethin' between us that's not even we could control." Arthur said softly. The smile on his face sent butterflies to your stomach. " 'M so sorry I made you feel so horrible. I'll do everythin' I can to make this right. To make us right, honey."

"It's okay.." You whispered. "It's not entirely your fault, y'know I'm sick anyway-"

"Which is another reason why I shoulda' been smarter!" Arthur said, his voice soft still but also firm. He pulled you into another hug. "I need to keep the happy inside your head."

"You remember that?" You gasped. You were deeply touched that he had remembered something so small.

"I'd have to be dead to forget any of the talks I've had with you sweetheart." Arthur said, his tone nothing but truthful. You smiled into his chest, his words made you feel like you were floating on a cloud.

You both sat there in a comfortable silence, Arthur gently rubbing your back and rocking you back and fourth. You had your eyes closed, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Arthur noticed a shift in your breathing, and he knew you had fallen asleep.

As quietly and comfortably as he could, Arthur shifted so that you were both laying down again. Arthur wrapped you up in a blanket and let out a content sigh. This felt so right. So perfect. He was still scared, but he couldn't let it keep him from you. It was better to be afraid with you, so you could learn and grow together, instead of pushing himself away and hurting the both of you.

"I'm gonna give you the world, my sweet girl. Jus' you wait and see.." Arthur whispered. He planted a kiss on the top of your head, before drifting off himself.

»»———-　　———-««

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! ive literally spent all my free time on it the past few days lol i got wayyy to invested into this, but are we suprised at this point??? Xx

[allthemeniveloved]

It Will Come Back - Part 7

Summary: You anxiously awaits the return of the men from the Saint Denis bank job, only for devastating news to shatter the fragile hope they had been clinging to.

wc: 4.1k

ao3 link

tags: high honor John Marston x fem!reader, angst, fluff, hurt comfort, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, riding, dirty talk, praising, daddy kink, mentions of death

The swamp air was heavy, clinging to your skin as you paced near the campfire, the light casting flickering shadows across the crumbling walls of Shady Belle. The camp was quieter than usual, the faint hum of crickets and frogs filling the void left by the gang’s usual bickering and bustle. You had barely slept the night before, your fight with John replaying over and over in your mind. The words you’d exchanged felt sharp and raw, and the fear behind them gnawed at you.

You turned at the sound of approaching hoofbeats, your heart leaping despite yourself. Dahlia, who had been grazing nearby, raised her head and let out a soft whinny as John’s figure came into view, his horse moving steadily through the foggy night. He dismounted with practiced ease, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud, but there was hesitation in his movements, a heaviness in the way he approached.

His eyes found yours almost immediately, and though his jaw was set, his gaze softened as he saw the worry etched across your face. “Darlin’,” he began, his voice low and careful as he stopped a few feet away. “Can we talk?”

You folded your arms, unsure whether to be relieved or angry. “I’ve been waiting for you all day, John,” you said, your tone carrying more hurt than frustration. “Where the hell have you been?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took another step closer. “Running errands for Dutch, then just out clearin’ my head,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have said what I did last night.”

You blinked at him, his words catching you off guard. “You mean calling me ungrateful?”

John winced, his head dipping slightly. “Yeah. That. Look, I didn’t mean it, alright? I was just… frustrated.” He paused, his hands moving to his hips as his voice softened. “You were right, y’know? About Dutch. About all of this. I just didn’t wanna hear it.”

Your arms slowly fell to your sides, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as your voice fell to a whisper. “John, I’m not trying to turn you against Dutch,” you said quietly, stepping closer to him. “I just… I’m scared. I’m scared of what he’s turning this gang into, and I’m scared of what it’s doing to you.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the guarded expression he so often wore crumbled. “I know,” he murmured, his voice raw. “And I hate that I’ve been makin’ it worse for you. I don’t want you thinkin’ I don’t care, ‘cause I do. More than I know how to say sometimes.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, your fingers curling around his. “Then don’t push me away,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “We’ve gotta stick together, John. You and me.”

He gave a small, lopsided smile, squeezing your hand in return. “We will,” he said, his tone firm now. “I ain’t lettin’ anything come between us again. I promise.”

The weight of the past day seemed to lift slightly as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that things might be okay—at least for now.

"Come, take a walk with me love." John ushered you with his gentle hand on your lower back as you begin walking behind the house. The soft murmur of camp faded as you followed John around to the back of Shady Belle, the crumbling mansion walls casting long shadows over the overgrown grass. The air back here was quieter, the swamp sounds more distant, and the two of you found a small, secluded patch where the moss-covered ground felt softer beneath your boots. He stopped and turned to you, his expression unguarded for the first time in what felt like days, his eyes catching the faint glow of the moonlight.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion as he reached for your hand. “I hate fightin’ with you. Feels like the one thing I can’t stand to lose is us.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you stepped closer, your fingers lacing with his. “I hate it too,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t want to lose you, John. Not to Dutch, not to this life."

He cupped your face gently, his calloused thumbs brushing over your cheeks as his gaze softened. “You won’t,” he said firmly, leaning his forehead against yours. “I swear to you, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

The words hung in the stillness between you, and then his lips found yours, slow and tender at first, but growing deeper as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His warmth chased away the lingering tension, leaving only the soft hum of the swamp and the quiet promise in his embrace. The weight of the world seemed to lift, and all that mattered was the feel of his heart beating steadily against yours.

You reached for his shirt and fisted the cotton fabric, pulling him closer.

John's hands smoothed up and down your back.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled into the embrace.

You broke away slightly.

“Don’t talk, just touch me. Please.”

John’s voice was low, almost hesitant, as he glanced around the quiet, shadowed corner of Shady Belle and asked, “Here?” You nodded, your voice soft but certain as you looked up at him, the tension in the air electric. “Yes, here.”

“Fuck,” the word tore from John's throat in groan so guttural it sent a shiver up your spine. John grabbed your hand with a quick, mischievous grin and pulled you behind the dilapidated shack at the edge of Shady Belle, the shadows offering a private refuge from the rest of the camp. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he backed you gently against the wall, his eyes filled with that familiar spark you couldn’t resist. Dropping down to his knee without a second thought and lifting your knee length skirt, he doesn’t even bother pulling your undergarments off all the way. His fingers part your folds and he dives in, tongue slipping through your slit before moving up and circling your clit. You whine along with his ministrations, fingers falling to tangle in his long raven hair and tugging.

You can only just hold in the noises building in your throat as he moves like a man starved, pressing his mouth into you as his tongue probes and swirls and practically drinks you down. His lips latch around your clit, sucking sharply on the aching nerve and tearing a whimper from your chest.

It only took mere seconds for John to push you to a point where you couldn’t stay still, your body trying to escape the pleasureful torture while your heart wanted more. He was strong so he had no problem pinning you to the wall while his mouth continued to worship your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit and then your entrance. The sounds of your wet folds being worshiped by him were filthy.

You cum against his mouth with a broken gasp, your hand tightening in his hair to the brink of pain and he delights in it, his groan vibrating against your pussy only intensifying the high your body crashes through. His blunt nails leave crescent moons in the back of your thigh, digging into your flesh just under the swell of your ass as he keeps you against his mouth.

“G-god daddy, calm down –” you whimper, legs twitching and knees weak with the threat of giving out completely. Only then did he let you go.

Raising up and dropping his gun belt, John found his place on a nearby creaking wooden chair and leaned back, the faint smirk on his lips growing as he patted his knee and tilted his head toward you. “C’mere, darlin’,” he drawled softly, his voice low and inviting, as his eyes locked on yours with an undeniable warmth. You didn't hesitate before shedding your undergarments entirely and stepping closer, the lustful pull of his gaze leaving you no room to resist. As you settled onto his lap, his hands finding your waist, he holds you close and firm as he murmured, “That’s more like it."

Your eyes caught sight of John’s hat, discarded nearby his feet, and with a playful grin, you bent down to scoop it up and place it on your head. When you turned back to face him, he froze, his eyes softening as a slow, adoring smile spread across his face. “Well, look at you,” he drawled, his voice warm and low, “never thought my hat could look that damn good.” You feel his cock twitch underneath your core at the sight. “Guess it’s mine now, Marston."

Your eyes adjust to the low light, taking in the full sight before you. John's hand unbuttoned his pants and had pulled himself out, stroking his cock, thumb swiping over the tip after every few pumps.

“Daddy- your cock, please,” you sputter out all too fast, groaning as you meet his lustful gaze.

“That eager huh?” he jabs and your response dies in your throat as he slides into you; pushing your hips down so he bottoms out. Moans leave from both of your mouths’ and John presses his forehead to yours. He moves to latch his lips to your collarbone as you adjust to him, marking you as his from your neck to low on your decolletage. Slowly, you lift yourself halfway up over his cock before dropping back down. His hands aide you as you set a steady pace for yourself, enjoying the stretch of him. He can’t keep his own hips still, meeting you with sharp thrusts but not enough to knock you off your rhythm.

“More.” It’s a demand, hot need laced in his tone. It hurts in the best of ways, the solid slam of his cock hitting deep within you with every ram of his hips. You can feel the untamed rage building in his movements, his jaw tense and strained as he moves.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this, angel. All mine."

“Ain’t nobody gonna make you feel like this again, you hear me?” The fierce, almost possessive edge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless as you tried to process the intensity of his words. "Only me." he finishes.

You blinked, his fierce words catching you off guard, but instead of pulling away, you moaned louder, your arms resting around his neck. “I know, John,” you said softly, your voice tinged with warmth and lust as you met his intense gaze. “And for the record, I don’t want anyone else near me either.”

“Good, cause I ain’t about to share what’s mine.” he growls against your throat. His voice and the scratch of his stubble makes you want to whine but you bite back the noise. He bucks his hips up into you faster and you throw your head back, muffled cries building in your chest.

It’s intimate, being so close to him, despite the unforgiving way his fingers dig into your waist. Your mouths meet in a hot mess of tongue and teeth while you continuously drop your hips, clit catching and rubbing along the neat patch of curls covering his pubic bone, rutting harder against him for more friction.

“That’s it, angel. You're doing so good for me.” the soft praise makes your toes curl.

"I'm so close," the pleasure inside of you nearly bursting at the seams. His hand comes around your throat and yanks you to the side before his teeth are sinking into your neck, not a single break in his hard, pounding rhythm. That alone sends you over the edge as the coil in your belly snaps and your body convulses in John's arms as he followed you over the edge. He growled out a moan and pulled you down onto his lap, holding you in place as he spilled into you, your cunt milking him down to the very last drop.

“Fuck me,” John groaned, keeping his head buried in the crook of your neck. Your panting breaths mixed together in the humid air surrounding you both as you attempted to catch your breath, your head leaning forward once more to rest on his shoulder as your body went limp.

John reached up with a slow, teasing grin, his fingers brushing against yours as he gently lifted the hat from your head. “I think this belongs to me, darlin’,” he drawled, his voice soft yet filled with playful affection as he set it back on his own. “Though, I’ll admit, it’s hard to wear it knowing how damn good you looked in it.”

You laughed softly at his words, your cheeks warming as his gaze lingered, full of that familiar, unspoken affection that always left you breathless. His hand didn’t leave the brim of his hat, instead tilting it slightly as he leaned closer, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Y’know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I might need to find a reason to lend it to you again.”

You smirked, your heart racing as you reached out, your fingers lightly tugging at his shirt. “Who says you need a reason?” you whispered back, your voice barely audible above the hum of the swamp.

That was all it took. John closed the distance between you once more, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, filled with a tenderness that made the world around you blur. His hand came to rest against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to let you go.

When the kiss broke, you stayed close, your foreheads pressed together as you both caught your breath. His voice was soft, a playful edge still clinging to it as he whispered, “You really are trouble, darlin’. But you’re my kinda trouble.”

-

The soft glow of morning filtered through the crumbling windows of Shady Belle, casting streaks of golden light over the worn wood floors. The swamp outside was already alive with the sound of frogs and insects, but inside the mansion, camp was still stirring awake. You sat on the porch with a steaming tin cup of coffee in your hands, feeling the cool morning air brush against your skin. The events of the previous night still clung to your thoughts, but the tension between you and John had eased, replaced by a cautious sense of calm and warmth.

John appeared from the house, his steps deliberate but quieter than usual. He rubbed the back of his neck as he approached, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he avoided your gaze that made your stomach twist. He sat down beside you, close enough for your shoulders to brush with his own coffee mug in his hand. For a moment, he just sipped in silence, the distant chatter of the gang filling the gaps between you.

Finally, you turned to him, concern flickering in your chest. “John, what’s on your mind?” you asked softly, your voice breaking through the stillness.

He let out a long sigh, setting his coffee down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Dutch’s got a plan,” he said finally, his voice low and careful. “We’re hittin’ the Saint Denis bank.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. You blinked at him, your pulse quickening as the gravity of what he said sank in. “The Saint Denis bank?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly in disbelief. “John, that’s… that’s insane. The Pinkertons are already breathing down our necks, and now Dutch wants to poke the bear?”

“I know,” John said quickly, turning to face you. “I know it’s risky. Hell, I know it’s dangerous. But Dutch… he thinks this is it. The big one. Enough money to get us all out for good.”

You shook your head, your heart racing. “And you believe him?” you asked, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear. “John, you’ve seen what his ‘big plans’ have done to this gang. To us. Please, don’t do this." You grabbed his arm, your voice trembling with desperation as you pleaded, “John, something about this bank job doesn’t feel right—please, don’t go.” Your eyes searched his, tears threatening to spill as you whispered,

John’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists as he leaned closer. “I don’t believe him,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a murmur. “But this ain’t about Dutch. This is… this is somethin’ I’ve gotta do. A parting gift, y’know? For the man who raised me, for everything he’s done for me—even if it’s gone sideways now.”

You stared at him, tears stinging your eyes as you struggled to find the words. “John,” you whispered, reaching out to grip his hand. “We can leave now. Forget the bank, forget Dutch. We can go, and get out before it’s too late.”

His hand squeezed yours, but his gaze was steady, resolute. “Darlin’,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “I made a promise to Dutch once, and this is me keepin’ it. But after this, I’m done. I swear to you, this is the last time. Tomorrow, we’ll pack up and leave. You, me, - we’ll start over, far away from all this.”

You searched his face for a sign of doubt, of hesitation, but all you saw was his stubborn determination. The knot in your stomach grew tighter as you nodded reluctantly, your voice barely audible. “Tomorrow,” you echoed, the word hollow in your mouth.

John leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I promise,” he said again, his voice tender but firm. “Just one more job, and we’re free.”

But as he pulled back and gave you a faint smile, the sinking feeling in your chest only deepened. You watched him gather his things and step away, your heart heavy with the unshakable fear that tomorrow might never come.

Later, the camp was bustling with activity as the gang readied themselves to head into Saint Denis, the tension in the air as thick as the swamp mist that clung to the ground. You stood off to the side, watching as horses were saddled and weapons were checked, your stomach churning with dread. John was among them, his face set with a determination you knew was meant to mask his own unease. His figure, so familiar and steady, looked almost distant now, and every instinct in your body screamed for you to stop him.

When he finally approached you, his saddlebags slung over his shoulder, you stepped forward, your voice cracking as you called out to him. “John, wait—please.”

He paused, his shoulders tensing before he turned to face you. The expression on his face was guarded, but the flicker of regret in his eyes was unmistakable. “Darlin’, we’ve been over this,” he said softly, his voice low to keep your conversation from carrying to the others. “I have to do this. It’s the last thing, I swear.” You grabbed his arm, gripping it tightly as your heart raced.

"I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

For a moment, he looked torn, his jaw tightening as he glanced back at the others mounting their horses. Then he reached up, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours. “I’m comin’ back to you,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling between you. “This is just somethin’ I gotta do. For Dutch, for the gang. But tomorrow? Tomorrow it’s just us. I promise.”

The warmth of his touch and the certainty in his voice only made the sinking feeling in your chest grow heavier. You nodded reluctantly, tears threatening to spill as you whispered, “Tomorrow. You better keep that promise, John.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek before he stepped back, his hand falling away as he turned toward his horse. “I always do,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a flicker of confidence you weren’t sure he fully believed.

You watched him mount up, your heart pounding as he joined the others and rode off, his figure disappearing into the foggy horizon. The sounds of their departure echoed faintly in the still air, and as you stood there, the gnawing unease in your stomach twisted into something sharper—something you couldn’t ignore. You clenched your fists, silently vowing to be ready for whatever came next, whether that meant waiting for him or finding a way to save him from the path he’d chosen.

-

The sun dipped lower into the horizon, casting long shadows over Shady Belle as you wandered anxiously around camp, unable to settle. Every sound from the swamp—every rustling branch, every distant birdcall—made your heart leap, hoping it was the sound of hooves returning. But as the hours dragged on, the unease in your chest grew heavier, settling like a stone. The gang was quiet, their usual chatter replaced by tense glances and murmured concerns. You paced near the edge of camp, your hands twisting nervously, unable to stop the cascade of worst-case scenarios playing out in your mind. Where were they? Why hadn’t they returned? The sinking feeling that had plagued you before John left now felt like an unbearable weight.

As darkness finally fell, the soft crunch of footsteps broke the oppressive silence, and you turned to see Abigail stumbling into camp. Her face was pale, her cheeks streaked with tears, and her hands trembled as she clutched Jack to her chest. The sight of her hit you like a punch, and your stomach turned as you ran to her. “Abigail,” you said, your voice shaking, “what happened? Where’s John? Where’s the rest of them?” She shook her head, her voice cracking as she spoke, her words spilling out in broken sobs. “Hosea—” she started, her voice faltering. “They killed him. Right there in front of Dutch.” Her knees buckled slightly, and you steadied her, your heart racing as she continued. “Lenny didn’t make it out either. And John—” She stopped, meeting your wide, fearful eyes. “John got arrested. They took him. I don’t know where… I don’t know if he’s okay.” Her words struck like lightning, leaving you breathless as the enormity of what she’d said settled in. The men weren’t coming back tonight—and John, your John, was gone.

The world around you seemed to tilt and blur as Abigail’s words echoed in your mind: Hosea dead. Lenny gone. John arrested. Your knees buckled, and you stumbled back, your hand gripping the edge of a barrel to steady yourself as your breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. The camp noises around you faded into a distant hum, replaced by the relentless pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Your chest tightened painfully, the weight of grief and fear pressing down like a crushing force, making it impossible to catch your breath.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears welled up, blurring your vision. “No, no, no—this can’t be happening.” The words felt hollow, desperate, like saying them might somehow undo the nightmare. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you pressed them against your face, the tears spilling freely now. Images of Hosea’s calm, fatherly demeanor and Lenny’s infectious laughter flashed through your mind, now cruelly replaced by the knowledge that they were gone forever. But it was the thought of John—imprisoned, alone, and out of reach—that broke you. You gasped for air, your shoulders shaking violently as the panic consumed you, and all you could feel was the unbearable weight of losing him, of not knowing if he was alive or if you’d ever see him again. You barely registered the arms that wrapped around you, someone murmuring soft reassurances, as your world crumbled under the weight of your worst fears.

They're going to hang him, was the last thought that rushed through your mind.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

tag list: @photo1030