#but if you think that matters you don’t understand horse girls | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherryblossom-enthusiast · 5 months ago

Text

Unrequited (Arthur Morganxf! Reader) - RDR2

A/N: Whoever decided that there could be a button where Arthur Morgan says "good girl" how ever many times you want, I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

Synopsis: Arthur loved Mary, didn't he? So, why was it he was spouting all this nonesense about loving you?

Warning/ Tags: Angst. But like SO MUCH FLUFF. Allusions to Sex. Mentions of violence. Coarse language. Kissing. Hurt/ Comfort. Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 6.1K

Masterlist

Even now, Arthur Morgan was a lovesick fool for Mary Linton.

You shouldn’t have been surprised; you weren’t really. Arthur doesn’t talk about her much anymore, but you’d known him long enough to see he’d never really let that part of himself go. The part of him that loves. That dreams of something better for himself even if he thinks he’s the big, bad, scary man that he is.

And maybe in some aspect, he is that man.

Threatening, bartering, killing. Sometimes you look into his eyes and see nothing but a hard, desolate exterior that wouldn’t think twice about shooting anybody up so long as Dutch told him to do it. But the reality Arthur Morgan doesn’t want to accept is that there’s goodness hiding within the moulding of a gunslinger enforcer.

You can glimpse that goodness when he helps a woman on the road or gives medicine to a man dying from snake poison, and you can especially see it when he’s hauling his ass on his horse to help Mary even when he’s being pulled left and right to finish errands for the camp.

So no, you shouldn’t have been surprised that Arthur would ride out the earliest he could to help his past lover.

But hell, why did it have to hurt you every damn time?

He returns to camp just after the sun rises and light starts to colour the world around you. The air is still crisp, and the heat of the sun is non-existent on your skin. You’re brushing your horse’s mane when you hear the familiar holler of his voice towards Bill. You don’t look towards him as his horse trots towards the hitching post.

As he dismounts, he greets you, a little pep in the tone of his voice.

It irritates you immediately.

“Mornin’.”

You grit your teeth and put on the brightest smile you can muster. “Mornin’!”

He takes a moment. His eyebrows crease. “Something matter?”

“Uh-?”

“Nothing it’s just-“ he breaks to think about the right words to say. “You don’t look- Never mind.”

This only encourages you to grow your façade stronger. “So,” you start “what’d Mary need this time?” It comes off a little pettier than you intended it to be. He doesn’t deserve that, hell, Mary didn’t deserve your bitterness either, fine woman she was.

That little fact seemed inconsequential however every time he uttered her name and the familiar feeling of jealousy pricked, downright stabbed itself in your gut.

He picks up on your tone, not appreciating it one bit. The displeasure that carves into his expression almost makes you wince and the fake smile that’s plastered on your face twitches the slightest bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You take the coward’s way out, you always do.

You break eye contact and continue to brush away the embarrasment. You’re rewarded by a loving whinny and it almost distracts you from the ice-cold awkwardness you’ve built around this conversation. “Nothin’, just asking.”

Whether he believes your fib or doesn’t, he doesn’t let it show. But him moving on has you thanking God regardless. He takes out a brush, starting to work on his own mare’s mane. “Good girl.” He whispers. Warmth creeps up your neck as your ears tingle towards the baritone timber of his voice. It makes you lose all self-respect for yourself. He sneaks a look at you for the tiniest bit of time before continuing your conversation. “Her brother was involved in some weird religious group.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep,” he sighs “buncha turtle lovers.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you even though you don’t understand it. When you glance towards Arthur’s direction, the indifference has faded away from his features and all that’s left is a sarcastic smirk in its place. All frost has melted away and all too quickly you’re back to the ease that usually came with your dynamic.

You can’t help but throw a snide joke his way. “Gosh, if you’re still this involved in their family drama, you should just make it official and propose again.”

The idea haunts you, of course, it does. But you weren’t going to let Arthur know that. The more you joke, the more it becomes real, the more your true feelings become buried underneath a pile of age-old lies and supportive nonsense. Because at the end of the day, if it would make Arthur happy, you’d keep biting your lip and pushing him towards that happiness.

Love worked funny like that.

His smirk falls and you’re worried you pushed it a tad bit too far. “I tried once and I don’t know if it’ll ever happen.” He turns almost sombre, like thinking back on old memories that were equal parts sweet and bitter and this bothers you in a different way.

“I sincerely think if you were to propose to her right now, she’d say yes with no questions asked.” You hope he sees the genuineness in your intentions.

He merely gives you a scoff, slightly shaking his head. “Yeah well,” he trails off. “It’d never work out now.”

You decide not to continue pushing. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to dig deeper into the situation and even in your sorry narrow-minded state, you could understand and respect keeping your mouth shut when you needed to. You lick your lips and stick another sickly-sweet smile to your face. “Well, you continue on moping, but I can’t say I’ll be sticking around to see you grumbling around.”

That gets him to snort. “And where will the rough and tough princess be today? Helping a rabbit off the road? Wait-“ he pauses for dramatic effect “Talking to the birds and singing em’ a song?” He makes himself chortle quietly at the idea.

“I have a date.”

That gets him to stop cold turkey. He’s only met with a smug appearance on your end. “You?”

You fake great offence and snap at him. “Hey! Even I can seduce someone if I try!”

“No, I know- I” He appears shaken up about your revelation and for a moment, the tiniest fraction of a second, you could almost see the tensing of his jaw. “With who?”

It’s your turn to leer at him. “Why’s it matter?”

“It doesn’t I-“ he stutters “I just-“

You raise an eyebrow. “Well if you must know, he works at the hardware store.” You say as you recall the day you met the gentleman. “I helped him carry out some tasks and he gave me a daffodil in exchange, of all things.” You pointed at the flower currently tucked in the band of your hat. “Cutest thing.”

“Is that right?” He gruffed out.

“Mhm, so I’m gonna escort him and his granddaughter to a birthday party out in Strawberry.” You giggle. “He said he needed a ‘fighter’ with him because of his ‘old bones’ and ‘lumbago’” You roll your eyes. “Sounds like Uncle.”

This seems to take Arthur by surprise. The dark clouds in his eyes clear out and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Wha-?”

You bite your lip to keep your internal laughter from spilling. “Listen, I offered.” You explain. “He’s been giving me discounts at the store and that girl is just the sweetest thing and well-“ you shrug, “I couldn’t say no like the goddamn softie I am.”

The blades in his eyes dull at the statement. The mysterious scrunch of his shoulders from earlier disappears. He steps away from his horse and walks around his mare to shorten the gap between the two of you. It reminds you that he’s tall, much bigger than you are. “That bleedin’ heart of yours is gonna get you killed one day.”

He mutters his words lightly and yet, there’s some odd sadness you don’t understand attached to it. He puckers his lips as if he wants to say more on the matter yet can’t.

You put on your best Arthur impression, puffing up your chest and scrunching your face. “Well, somehow this don’t suit me, now does it?”

He wouldn’t even have to touch you.

At that, Arthur chuckles deeply. “Nah, you obviously ain’t tall enough to be me, shortcake.” He jabs you playfully at the shoulder and in response, you over-exaggerate the motion of being pushed back.

Though, if he really wanted to, Arthur could have you on your back in less than a second.

Before you can go further down that rabbit hole of thoughts, you carry on with the train of humour. “Besides, heard from Jerry there’ll be plenty of cute fellas around to keep me entertained.”

The clouds start to roll back in his demeanour, dare you say with a touch of thunder this time. “You gonna be looking at other men?” The lightness in his voice is gone, only replaced with the venom from before.

You’re befuddled at the quick-changing atmosphere, but don’t go back on what you said. “All I’ve got to look at are you folks all day,” you quip “A girl needs a change of scenery every once in a while.”

He crosses his arms, clearly not amused. “We not pretty enough for you?”

“Well, you are certainly, but I don’t know about Pearson.”

You purse your lips immediately and silently curse yourself at the admission. That same old shit-eating grin makes a comeback. “Is that right?”

You push his arm back, but unlike him, you hardly get the man to move more than half an inch. “Oh shut it.” You quickly un-hitch your horse and mount her. All you want to do is wipe his lips so it turns back into his usual frown, but you’re afraid you’d just embarrass yourself further. “I won’t be back for a while.” You pull your horse away and pat her on the side. “Didn’t know children’s birthday parties could take so damn long.”

“How long will you be gone for?” He mumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

“However long it takes for a fella to get me off.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. The sun highlights the tips of his ears go red. “Wha- What?” He strained out like he wasn’t quite sure of what he just heard.

A real, true laugh comes out of you then as you spur your horse into action, cantering away from camp. You don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say. His flushed look is enough of a prize to take with you.

You replay it all the way to Strawberry.

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

It was well past sundown when you return. Truthfully, you don’t even know what time it is, all you knew was that you were gone long enough that laying down on your cot would be much appreciated by your aching muscles. There’s a light breeze and you take your hat off, shaking out your hair.

The party was a success. Jerry and his granddaughter got to and from Strawberry safely, and really, that was all you could wish for when you were being hunted constantly because of the bounty on your head. You knew you offered, hell you were pretty self-approving when you did. But even then, you made sure to ask if Jerry really wanted a gunslinger as an escort, to which he replied, “Oh, shove it.”

Wonderful man.

The rest of the camp, well those that were here anyways, aside from Bill who was back on guard duty, are already fast asleep. The crackle of the fire is the only sound filling your ears other than your own footsteps.

There’s a small oil lamp turned on in the corner of your vision, brightening the blue hue and you instantly know the only bastard who would be up at this hour.

He’s drawing again. His brows are focused in that way you loved so much and he only looks up from his journal once you amble closer towards him. You almost hate that you’ve disrupted him. You could watch him draw for hours and hardly get bored.

He closes the book and looks up at you. You nod towards his hands. “You’ll have to show me what you’re working on at some point, Picasso.”

Arthur lets a huff through his nose. “Not gonna happen.” He motions you to sit beside him and you take him up on his offer. You catch a whiff of his scent, something like tobacco mixed with old leather. It may have been slightly repulsive to anyone else, but this was Arthur, and all it made you feel was safe. “You was gone a long time.” He points out, a bitter tinge to his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You tilt your head at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “You just went off and didn’t come back until now.” The bitter tinge morphs into something like annoyance. “I was worried.” He mumbles low.

“Oh, I was fine.” You bump your shoulder against his, but it again, doesn’t make him sway. “Besides, I had a fella with me.”

His hand, the one closest to you, balls up at his side. He’s always been hard to read, but he clearly isn't happy at your revelation. You had half a mind in this late hour to stew in that fact. “Did you now?”

“Sure, one of them single fathers.” You let a small laugh escape you and shake your head, kicking the dirt with your worn-out boots. “Don’t worry, I’d never steal one from a married woman.”

“Was he…cute?” He mutters.

“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘cute’ come out of Arthur Morgan’s mouth.” You catch a glimpse towards him and again note the same pink twinge on his ears, probably embarrassed at being called out on something so stupid.

You finally start to feel that familiar flutter in your stomach hidden behind all that supportive “do what makes you happy nonsense”.

No, you couldn’t have that.

So, you bury it down.

It just became easier that way after all these years.

“That ain’t the damn point.” He continues to grumble. “Was he?”

You ponder the question for a short while. “I mean, he was alright in the looks department, not cute-“

He cuts you off quickly. “Just alright?” He scoffs lightly.

You remember the aforementioned single father in question. His looks are the last thing on your mind. He was alright, not cute, not ugly. Sure, you wouldn’t want to sleep with the man, but-

“He was damn good with his kid, and I thought I’d like to get to know someone like that more.” You reveal through a whisper.

This causes Arthur to frown, but his expression softens. Some of that constant bitterness fades away. “You- “he cuts off and thickly swallows. “You weren’t doing anything strange were you?”

You can feel a prickle of heat in your face at the question. “I mean, we talked sure, but if anything, I just maybe wanted to indulge in a fantasy.” You shrug.

He snaps his gaze back towards you. “A fantasy?”

“What it’d be like-“

God, why was it so hard to say? “Being normal, having a family.”

The silence that follows is thick and you immediately scold yourself for ruining a perfectly airy conversation just like this morning. You regret it, you do, but you can’t deny how nice it is to finally get that dream off your chest. It wasn’t original, what woman at camp, save Mrs. Adler, didn’t want that stability?

The feeling of riding was freeing. It gave you the grace of flying during a time when you were being held down and that will never change. But nowadays, you find that instead of being held down, you want to be held close. To be called important, matter to someone, so that when you felt lost soaring, you’d always have a beacon home.

“Damn it, you can’t be sayin’ things like that.” He forces out a murmur, a shred of his usual gruff tone.

“You ever think about that?” You tread lightly. “Having kids? Building a farm out somewhere and just-“ a deep sigh escapes you. “living and not surviving?”

It takes him a while to answer your question.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” The vulnerability colors his voice and it starts to trip you over the edge.

You nod, pursing your lips. “With Mary?” You meekly ask, the crickets chirping making the exchange more awkward. You almost cringe at the silence of it all.

He tenses at her name and it seems like you get your answer.

“With Mary? I mean-“ He tries to dissuade you with absolutely no conviction in his voice. He pauses and curses under his breath. Arthur shakes his head, closing his eyes a moment. “Y’know, it ain’t always about Mary.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Arthur, it’s always been about Mary.” Sighing deeply, you bite your cheek at the acidic truth. “Even when you met Eliza, it was still about Mary.”

He’s taken aback by your statement and a subtle look of frustration overcomes his features. “No, it hasn’t.”

You want to say more, but your sardonic nature halts at his stoic reply. It’s like your heart stops, a coldness and a shrill wake your senses from the inside out. “What?” Your brain halts, all thought ceasing to exist except to process his next response. He tries to avoid eye contact, but you seek his gaze as you tilt your head sideways. “Arthur, what do you mean?” You repeat more sternly, begging to get a straight answer.

He throws you a stick of dynamite.

The smoke clears and all that’s left is the destruction that caters right in the center of your chest.

“What about you?” His voice is hoarse like this is the most difficult thing he’s ever had to squeeze out of his mouth. “What about when it became you?”

Ka-boom.

There’s no longer just a flutter in your stomach, there’s a whole damn circus, and it decides to release the butterflies you worked so hard to keep from their magical chest of caution.

You shake your head and your body goes rigid. You move away from him and stand abruptly as you place your hands on your hips. He’s quick to follow you on your feet. A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat before you can stop yourself. “Arthur-“

“No, let me finish.” He steps in front of you and holds your shoulders square, turning your body towards him. Even in your bubbling anger, you hate the way your skin immediately melts under his touch. His eyes and actions are pleading for you to stay, so you let him speak, biting your tongue to keep yourself from interrupting. He stumbles over his words. “It’s been you for a long damn time.” He admits. “But I was, I don’t know-“You notice the light sheen of sweat gracing his forehead. “I was scared to say something.”

“If this is some dumb joke-“

“No!” He immediately denies like he’s appalled you would even think of it in that way.

“Well,” you sneer “I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing that.” You remove his hands from your shoulders stiffly and start to trudge away back to your horse.

In the years you’d known him, Arthur had been a force, even more so when he was younger and reckless. He was stubborn as a mule and despite keeping the peace for the most part, there was a strut in his step when he walked because he knew he had the power to change that fact whenever he wanted and get away scotch-free. Arthur was arrogant in that way, always threatening people with a smirk or an edge to his voice.

But this is the first time you see him flinch and it happens to be at your curt words.

A lump catches in your throat, but you’re too annoyed to care, all but continuing the short distance back to the hitching posts. Arthur is hot on your tracks, not letting up one bit. Maybe Bill was overhearing, maybe one of the girls stirred awake. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to get the hell away from here.

His catches up to you in no time, his strides much longer than yours. He steps in front of your path and when you make a move to step aside, he mirrors your actions. You click your tongue, glowering at him from beneath your lashes. “Look,” he starts “now I know you may not like me, but I-“

That gets your anger rising to incomparable heights. “Not like you?!” You practically shout out. Looking around, you remember where you are and it’s the only reason your voice lowers. “Arthur, I’ve liked you since the day I met you!”

His eyebrows pull together and his nose crinkles. Arthur’s face morphs into something like agitation from its previous confusion. “So, why all this attitude?”

You’re dejected. “Why all this attitude?” You softly hiss. “Why all this attitude when I’ve loved you for years and all I’ve heard about is Mary?”

Arthur winces. He steps back from you, recoiling like he’s just been shot by a sniper rifle.

Good, you think. He should feel like a right asshole.

“’Why all this attitude’ he says!” You giggle manically at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Where do I even start?” You begin to rant, hands back on your hips to give you some sort of anchor from sinking towards the ground. “I don’t know Arthur, maybe it’s because while I’ve been here stewing in self-pity, you were always out seeing her. Maybe, it’s because every time you were young, drunk, and broken, you’d come back whispering her name, mistaking her for me, and I was the one helping you pick up the pieces.”

Your heart was racing a million yards a minute, but you couldn’t stop now. All the hurt and sorry baggage poured out like molten lava, burning with years of intensity. “Or maybe-“ you point an index finger at him and snap sarcastically as if you’ve just discovered a newfound truth “Maybe, it was because I worked so damn hard to tell myself I wasn’t in love with you and you just-“ your voice breaks.

Arthur doesn’t interrupt you at any part of your monologuing. Just like usual, you can hardly decipher his emotions except notice the colour draining from his face.

“So, I’m sorry that I don’t believe you when you say It’s been me.” You continue. “You’ve given me no reason to believe otherwise.”

You sidestep him, not taking a single look back in fear of him seeing the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You unhitch your horse, giving her a slight pat before mounting her again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t see or speak to Arthur for a few days after your argument.

You don’t have much energy to talk to anyone really.

So, you somehow end up back at a familiar field surrounded by evergreen trees and flowers. The crystalline water of the hot springs gleams in your eyes and a chill wind sends shivers up your spine.

You set up camp and stay a while. The serenity of the woods is welcomed. You don’t consider yourself the best hunter, but fishing didn’t require the same amount of dexterity. It's quiet, peaceful even. All you hear is the chirp of the birds and the steady flow of water.

It gives you time to cool off, reflect on everything that’s happened.

The more time you spend out here, the more hesitant you are to leave. It's a nice reprieve from the perils of civilization and you find yourself slipping away, trying to grasp a sense of comfort that's unimaginable for you most days.

Tends to happen when you're an outlaw, you suppose.

But one day, as you’re laying under the shade of a tree, feeling the blades of soft grass beneath you, you hear heavy footsteps starting to approach.

There's no need to bother even acting surprised.

Arthur takes a seat beside you with a deep sigh. He leans back, using his hands to support him.

The both of you are silent for a while, not one peep out of your mouths. You expect it to be uncomfortable but having him by your side brings an ease you haven’t felt in days. Arthur continues to stare up at the sun starting to descend in the horizon and you follow suit, eyes trained to the sky above.

“When I met you, I thought you were nothing more than a naïve, innocent little thing.” He starts, baritone drawl catching you off guard. You don’t realize how much you’d missed hearing it until now. “You were this small girl I needed to protect. “

You glance towards him and notice the small smile now gracing his lips, his eyes glossed over like remembering memories from so very long ago. “You could barely ride a horse, hell, you could barely mount one.”

The genuine warmth in his voice continues to chip away any frustrations left within you as you recall those days like snapshots in your mind.

“Every day, it was something new with you.” He laughs out, making your heart traitorously skip a beat. “You were learning the ropes of it all, and for a while, you were just a ratty brat who wanted to try on boots that were too big for her.” He pauses and you look at him more clearly this time, head turned towards him fully in an effort to really listen to what he has to say. “But Mary, she-“ he swallows “I could just turn my thoughts off with her.”

He gives out another sigh. “I loved her, I did.” He admits. “It was so easy loving her at the time. We had no expectations of one another, and then all of a sudden that shifted and I don’t know if I could have been the man she needed me to be.”

You ache but it’s not because he mentions his past lover’s name.

“So I ended up actin’ like a goddamn fool. Boozin’, sleeping around.” He groans, obviously not proud of his previous ventures. “Dutch and Hosea, they couldn’t pull me out of it. I mean, they tried everything, but then-“ He releases a relieved chuckle. “Some woman I’d never met before poured a bucket of cold water over my head and pulled out her revolver, threatening to shoot my dumb ass if I didn’t get up.”

You snort as you’re reminded of that day.

It was dry and humid, overall making it a miserable summer afternoon. Arthur stumbled back into camp smelling like he was doused in moonshine, groggy and slurring his words together. Even Hosea, forgiving as he was, cringed at his sorry state.

You just about had it.

After collecting some from the nearby stream, you pushed Arthur down and doused him in ice-cold water. He sputtered, clearly not happy about what you just did and attempted to get up to confront you. You pulled out your gun before he could and shot right between his legs onto the dirt below. “If you don’t pull your damn weight around here, I’ll make sure the next shot hits!” you shouted, utterly disappointed.

“Good times.” You mutter and Arthur’s smile widens.

“Sure.” He agreed. “When my eyes started to clear, I swear to god I thought I was looking at an angel.”

You had a hard time believing that too. “You looked at a woman who just shot at you and thought she was angelic?”

He tries to find better words. “I guess you looked ethereal all together.” He tries to explain. “Like you were something I’d see at the pearly white gates of judgement.”

You sat amused at his thoughts. “That so?”

He’s finally able to make eye contact with you and revels in that fact. “My vision was still a little hazy and you just stood over me, posture straight, hat on.” He takes his hand and scratches his chin. It’s a tick for when he’s nervous. “Your hair had a glow to it from the sun and your eyes, they just- had this fire in em’ I’d never seen before.”

His shoulders drop and the mood suddenly turns mellow. “When we were ridin’ around and ended up at this clearin’, you just took off without me and I realized how much you’d grown into yourself right under my nose. You didn’t change much, you were still the same old, sunshine, animal-lovin’ princess, but the way you carried yourself? Asserted yourself more? God-.”

He holds your gaze as he continues and it’s like the world holds its breath for whatever he has to say next. “You rode off, hair wild, not looking back at me one bit and I just couldn’t stop starin’ at you because I thought you were such a damn sight.”

“It made me wonder-“ his words trail off. He stops for a while and you let him. You know how much courage it was taking him right now to admit this to you, letting down those guarded stone walls he loved so much.

You lick your lips, and in an act of your own bravery, you settle your hand on top of his, to which he visibly softens upon. “Made you wonder?” You urge.

“If that’s what Mary felt like, seeing me go all those times.” He finishes. “Because I hated it. I hated every time you got on that horse and left, and it would only hurt less whenever you came back.”

Arthur’s hand starts to clench, but you flip his hand in yours so you can interlock your fingers properly. You give his hand a squeeze and the tension eases off.

“But then I hear you wantin’ to go off with some man and all I could do was mope like a sorry idiot because what if-“ His throat works. “What if you rode off and didn’t come back this time?”

“Oh, Arthur.” You softly coo.

His hand starts to make small slow circles over your hands. “You know I realized something when I last saw Mary that I didn’t before.”

You’re expectant to hear what it is.

“Every time it got a little too rough between us, she was done with me.” He perceived. “I don’t blame her, she deserves someone to make her happy, but I wasn’t gonna change fast enough in her eyes.” He squeezes your hand tighter. “But you- you didn’t expect me to change on a dime. You were patient, you understood that I didn’t want to start a family not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid of feeling that pain again.”

After clenching his jaw, he takes his other palm and cups your cheek with the utmost tenderness a man of his size could muster. “With you, I feel like I can be something else, something good.” You lean towards his touch, begging that if this were a dream, you never wanted to be woken up. His gaze is soft on your features, highlighted by the starlight above.

“I fell in love with you a long time ago Arthur Morgan.” You confess. “I keep running away because no one holds me close enough to keep me somewhere.”

You feel a lump in your throat as you remember all the times you rode off wanting to hear him shout "Wait!", but he never did.

“I know and I’m sorry for that sweetheart, I really am.”

Tears start to escape your eyes and you don’t bother wiping them away. “Loving you hurt so much Arthur.” You whimper. “I started to pack all of those feelings away if it meant I didn’t have to ruin what we already had.”

He presses his rough lips to your forehead and leans back. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He tilts your chin up with a finger. “If I could go back and change the way I handled it all, I would.”

“Give me something to believe that this is real. That I’m not just making this up in my misery.”

Arthur takes a moment to look at you before he speaks. He takes the time to figure out how he’s supposed to approach what he wanted to convey “Close your eyes for just a second.” He mumbled, his voice pleading.

You don’t question it and do what he wants you to do. You fully accept you’d be one of those pathetic individuals who’d follow him off a cliff if it meant staying with him and keeping him safe.

In the darkness, you feel him pick up your hands and place them on his chest. Under your palms, you feel the fast thrum of the beat of his heart and the laboured way his chest rises. You stay like that for a few seconds and match your breathing to his.

“Okay,” his voice cuts through your thoughts “now open your eyes.” You follow his command and you open your eyes to Arthur with a tender expression. You feel his breathing get faster, like he’s almost waiting for a reaction.

You tilt your head. “What?”

Arthur chuckles quietly at your question. “This is me trying to prove I’m serious about you.” His hands are still around your wrists, keeping your palms on his chest in place.

“By what? Letting me feel you up?” You jokingly say. “Arthur, who do you think’s being lugging your heavy ass around when you’re drunk, cause it sure as hell ain’t Uncle-“

Even in the darkness that surrounded you, you can sense his embarrassment. He starts to sputter to quickly get words out “Wha- no, that’s not what- I- you-“ He stutters, clearly flustered at the comment. He sighs. “Now, that’s not what I meant and you know it, sweetheart.”

“So then, what?” You push. You’re not trying to be obtuse in any way, but you want to hear a proper answer.

Arthur swallows awkwardly. “I’m just- I want you to know that my heart beats for you.”

It puts you in such a complete state of shock, it renders you speechless.

Just a couple of days ago, you would have been thirsty to hear those words drip out of his lips, but now that you’ve actually heard him say it, you don’t know how to exactly respond.

“Sweetheart?” He calls, voice laced with worry.

You slowly lean down and press your ear against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. He smells like gun smoke and mountain air. The fast bu-dump of his heart is intoxicating, making you break out into a smile.

After a few seconds, he slowly places his own arms around you and pulls you in closer. His hold is firm. Secure. A bandwagon of bandits or federal agents could show up this instant and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone so much as even look at you the wrong way.

He tucks your head under his chin. “I can’t give you a house, or children, or land right now, but I want you to know you have my heart.” He places another soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ve had it for a long time and it’ll always be yours as long you’ll have me.”

“Well, I never thought Arthur Morgan was capable of such sweet words.” You tease.

You feel the rumble of his chest as he freely laughs. “Well, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other it seems.”

You give his statement some thought. “Maybe we can start to find those things about each other out.”

He nods against you. “I’d like that.”

You sniffle and follow him in letting out a laugh. “I’ll end up falling asleep here if we keep this up.”

He snickers at your comment. “I guess I’ll just have to carry you to bed then, huh?” He teases back, his tone light and playful.

You push away from his chest and fix your gaze directly at him, a dazed smile on your face. “I guess you’ll just have to, Arthur Morgan.”

His breathing hitches, obviously not expecting to be accepted on his offer. “Yeah, I suppose I will, sweetheart.”

You place a kiss squarely on his mouth and he reciprocates it almost immediately.

You grasp his face with your hands and do something you’ve been wanting to do since the day you met him.

His lips, though slightly chapped are soft and his stubble that he hasn’t shaved for weeks tickles your cheeks, poking you in a pleasurable way. You taste the tobacco on him and though you don’t smoke, maybe through kissing him you get the appeal. Fingers thread through your braid that’s falling apart by the second.

For the first time, you don't hold the butteflies back.

You part your lips to deepen the kiss and allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

It becomes hungry. Insatiable. It's years of pent up frustration and confusion exploding into a possession that consumes your whole body. He groans and you barely notice when he scoops you up, hooking his arm under your legs. “God, we could have been doing this earlier.” He growls.

As you giggle against his lips, Arthur continues to carry you, walking briskly towards your tent.

And the world around you stayed silent that night, except for a few hushed noises.

- - - - - - -

A/N: Yee-haw. Pls interact, I need to to talk to more RDR people lmao. pls.

#fanfiction #smut #x reader #fluff #fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur morgan fluff #Arthur Morgan Smut

1K notes · View notes

howlett-n-morgan · 2 months ago

Text

Take Me Home

6. Down The Road

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: i just was scrolling through tumblr and saw a post that a girl on twitter made and it was talking about a hot dad and I was like 'that's so me' and then at the end of the post it talked about how he called her miss aven and I threw my phone across the room because my name is also aven and i guess I am not the only one but anyways yeah all aven's are hot if ur name is aven ur hot.

Summary: The men of camp have begun to act strange, and Arthur seems to be the only one standing out... until a particular train job goes terribly wrong, then all bets are off.

Warnings: Not many, just some angst, canon typical violence, misogyny, and arguing... oh and some blood :)

WC: 12.5k (I went very insane last week)

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you. “That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp.

It was nearing fall again, and a year since you first arrived at camp, but things were beginning to get hectic. Not just with the attitudes of people in camp, but with the local law of Agua Fria getting more involved in the jobs the gang was pulling. You weren’t quite sure if you should be thankful for the distraction, or worried that it could make things worse for you. As far as you know, there’s not been bad feelings towards you, but there certainly weren’t friendly ones, either. It’s strange, since right after everyone found out your secret, they almost revered you in a way they hadn’t before. You supposed the walking on eggshells had to cease eventually.

The only people brave enough to talk to you now are Arthur and Hosea… you can’t say you don’t understand why. The lies finally caught up with most people, and it seemed to only get worse as time went on.

The men weren’t the only ones shunning you, either. The women, minus Tilly, were very straight and to the point if they had to speak with you, and if they didn’t, they just avoided you at any cost.

It was beginning to feel more lonesome, almost like before you joined up with the Van Der Linde’s.

The moment that all of it came to a head was around the campfire one night. You hadn’t spoken a word in fear of being over-talked or interrupted. You wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of cutting you off.

Bill was the first to become irrationally drunk. Sean and Mac were next. You could swear Javier was drunk, too, but with every drink he took, his guitar rhythm never stuttered. Arthur was teetering on the edge of drunkenness, but the man was a unit, and it took a lot of alcohol to turn his mind.

You felt relaxed enough to hit the bottle that Sean had set down, but then all eyes were on you.

You forgot. The women don’t drink unless there’s a special occasion, though you aren’t quite sure why. You set the bottle down and let your eyes stay on the ground when you do until the conversation starts back up again.

Arthur doesn’t really participate, he stays out of most of it, as do you. If you’re being honest, you don’t know why you sit at the fire with them anymore, because they don’t seem to give a shit if you do, and don’t seem to revere you like when they hadn’t been exposed to your secret.

When the drunken chatter of the Agua Fria women comes up, you’re glad you took enough of a swig to boost your confidence.

“I think they’re fine and what not,” Bill stumbles over his wording, barely making any sense. “Them girls in Charleston Town were better…”

“Better at what exactly?” You chimed in, finally taking part in the conversation.

“Screwin’, mostly… other things too I guess,” he coughed a little after speaking, taking yet another drink out of his mug.

“Why’s it matter?” Sean started in, and though you understood he was a good kid and just mildly outspoken, you hated how these little talks seemed to only have started now that they knew about you. Almost like they’re pushing it in your face.

“Maybe because it don’t sit right with me, comparin’ girls like that,” you shook your head. It’s like talking to a sack of bricks, and it won’t change anything, but you try anyway. It angers you, how they used to talk about interesting things around the campfire. Sure, sex came up from time to time, but it was never just about their views of women and the only things they’re good for.

“You don’t needa worry, we ain’t comparin’ you,” Bill laughed, and even got the Calendar boys snickering under their breath. They should be keeping their mouths shut, since they were out of camp when everyone found out about you in the first place. They didn’t even realize it when they came back.

“That’s because you’ve never had me,” you argued, and you could feel Arthur tense up beside you, almost like he was bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

“I could if I wanted to.” The pure audacity, and all because of some drunken words. Bill was never your favorite amongst camp goers, but he’d grown on you when he got to know you as Charlie… Now it seems he hates your guts and will do anything to antagonize you. “I bet you’re nice n’ easy, huh darlin’?”

“You’re the last person in camp I’d let have me, jackass.”

Some colorful words for a pretty girl like you. At least Bill thought so.

“You say that now… but I bet it didn’t take too much convincing to get you to spread 'em’ for Arthur,” he motioned to the gruff and stone-faced man beside you.

“Knock it off, Bill,” Arthur chimed in, knowing that if he didn’t, the man would push you to your limits and then maybe you’d shoot him. Knowing that you didn’t miss your shots was a good reason to step in, even if he knew you could hold your own.

“You can tell me, ol buddy,” Bill kept on, leaning forward. “Was it smooth as silk, or drier than the texas desert?”

Everyone else in the circle was pretty damn quiet by this time, just watching as Bill repeatedly made a bigger fool of himself. They had participated, but only to a certain degree… but this felt too messy, and they didn’t wanna chance stepping in it. Especially where Arthur was concerned.

“I said knock it off,” Arthur was more stern, but felt the need to defend your honor further, and clear your name. “She ain’t done nothing with no one in this camp, ya hear me?”

Bill let out a low and long whistle, looking back to you and seeing that your face was flushed. You were thankful for Arthur sticking up for you, but with the look on Bill’s face, it may have been just a touch too far.

“Alright, Arthur… I believe ya,” he chuckled, eyes narrowing in while everyone still watched on. “You know, seein’ things clearly makes me think you’re the opposite of what I said.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow in concern. You should have never asked.

“Boys,” he laughed out, nudging Mac to his left and slapping his knee in gleeful manner. “I’d say we’ve got ourselves a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, and immediately you were panicking. You’d never felt unsafe in the camp until right now, with the gaze of half the men in camp beginning to take you in as if it were for the first time. The way you reacted, they knew it to be true, and you weren’t sure what you could even say or do to hide it at this point.

“You ain’t got any idea what you’re talkin’ about, Williamson,” you tried to defend, and Arthur jumped on the bandwagon.

“That’s enough,” he grumbled, standing to his feet, offering you a hand to yours. “You’re all too damn drunk to even be livin’ right now.”

He issued a few less kind words that ushered them off to bed, and they dispersed from the circle, most of them to their sleeping arrangements.

Arthur went with you to your tent, and at first you weren’t sure why he stayed so close. When you went inside and he tried to close the flaps you stopped him.

“I can close up, I’m not quite tired yet…”

He gave you a respectful nod, but still held the flaps in his hand. “I just think that maybe you should close ‘em. I’ll stay outside here for a while just to make sure nothin’ happens,” he explained, but now you were fearful.

“What would happen?” You ask with the same amount of fear creeping into your voice.

“Nothin’, I won’t let it,” he assured you, but even though he brought some ease to your mind, he didn’t answer your question.

“Arthur, what would happen to me?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think they’re stupid enough to try anything, but…” he trailed, his voice leading off into a soft spoken tone.

“But?”

“Bill is very drunk right now, and he’s had some problems in the past,” he didn’t want you to think Bill was some sort of evil man, but if only for right now, he wanted you to be cautious of him. “Just want you safe, is all.”

You looked at him for a moment before concocting an idea. Probably a bad one, but that remains to be seen.

“Would you come sit with me a while?”

He looked back outside the tent, where across the camp, a few of the men still lingered, watching from a distance. Looking back to you, he couldn’t say no. It’s been part of his new curse, unwilling to see you upset or in need of anything at all. He doesn’t even know why, but his brain won’t let him function like he used to.

“I s’pose, but it’ll fuel their rumors that we…” he let his words fall off, but you knew what he was getting at.

“That’s the point,” you told him, a nervous smile on your face. “If you don’t mind the rumors, that is.”

“M’not understandin’,” he shook his head. Wasn’t that the whole reason he had to interject in the first place? To clear your name of any intimate relations with him that had been suspected?

“Even if it’s just lyin, maybe they’ll leave me alone,” you explained. The thought of people thinking you were impure was a strange one, but you’re sure it beats the feeling of being hunted like prey.

“Alright,” he nodded, looking at you with a decent smile. “Yeah, it’s alright with me, Red.”

You smiled in relief, suddenly all too focused on how he was looking at you. His hat was tipped slightly, so the brim framed his eyes in the moonlight from outside. You closed the flaps and sat back down with him, trying to think of something to say.

“How long do you think we oughta stay in here for?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the furthermost tent pole. “For them to actually believe it? I’d say a few hours…”

“Oh, really?” you teased, crossing your arms and giving him a cynical look.

He smirked, nodding his head around some. “I’m only kiddin’... mostly. But you can kick me out whenever it suits you.”

“So long as you’re willin’ to help me, stay as long as you want.”

He smiled again, genuinely, and though he could barely see your face in the dim light of the closed tent, the small hole in the fabric ceiling made for the prettiest glow in your hair. He got to thinking, and of course that’s a dangerous thing, but he had to ask.

“If you don’t mind sayin’ so… why haven’t you uh-?” His gesture towards the campfire outside, still going but soon to be snuffed out by the desert winds.

“Honestly?” you searched the files of your mind for something that didn’t sound too privileged. You knew you had it good growing up, and no one here could compare, but you still had issues that eventually changed your entire life. “My mother taught me to save myself for my husband.”

“Oh,” he furrowed his brow. Your wild and careless nature didn’t match what you were saying. “I didn’t take you for someone who would.”

“I’m not… but, I’ve been Charlie Brooks ever since I ran away, and no one ever knew me otherwise until you.”

He seemed surprised, but it did make sense when he pieced it all together. You’d gotten so good at playing the role of a young man, that countless people believed it. So much so, that you’d never been able to take a lover, though multiple women tried.

“And what about now? You ever thought of it?” He asked gently, his questions, though a bit intrusive, didn’t feel hard to answer. You knew he was curious, and after what just took place, you felt you owed him at least a few things to be resolved.

“I have, a few times,” you admitted, your voice becoming softer when you realized what you were about to share. It didn’t really matter, though, you trusted him more than anyone else in this world as it were, and knew he wouldn’t mock you. He acts all tough, but he’s a soft and gentle creature deep down. “I think I’m still gonna wait until I can give it to someone I love.”

He dipped his head. He definitely understood, and only wished he’d been wise enough to do the same. There was a time in his life before where he wishes he’d waited for a certain girl… but that was ages ago, and he knows his count is higher than it should be.

“Do you think you’re close to findin’ that someone?” his voice was just above a whisper, now, and he knows that the question he’s asked is risky. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, but without thinking, you give it to him.

“Real close,” you told him, looking down at your hands when his dim-lit stare became too much.

“Yeah?” he smiled, genuinely and with a hope he hadn’t felt in a while.

You nodded to him, tilting your head as you took him in. Not tonight… you’re not ready, and you know you won’t be for a while. It’s just then, however, that you’ve decided it will be him. You nearly decided that on the day you first arrived at camp. That day when he teased you and you swore on your life that you didn’t like him all that much… but then the very next day he went and surprised you. His kindness and gentleness will never be forgotten.

“Thank you for doing this, Arthur. I know I’m probably dooming you to a whole list’a questions tomorrow, but I’m grateful.”

“You don’t needa thank me,” he shook his head, being his generous and benevolent self. “I’ll always help you, whatever ya need.”

You stayed silent for a moment until he chuckled under his breath. “What?”

“Oh nothin, just thinkin’ of the look on Bill’s face tomorrow.”

You gave it a single thought and it made you laugh, too. It would probably be a terribly inappropriate slew of nasty questions after a round of congratulations, but he would deal with it, not you.

You crawled over next to him, sitting on the ground by his side, and leaning your head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, nor did he say anything. He just picked up your hand that was laying strewn on your lap, and threaded your fingers together. It was a silent action, but both of you understood immediately what it meant. We’re gonna be something, just give it time.

You sighed in contentment and turned your head to look at him. His profile stared on into the edge of the tent wall, until he could feel your eyes on him. He looked back down at you, but didn’t make a move. That’s not what tonight was about, and there would be plenty of time for all of that soon, he was sure of it. He squeezed your hand and turned back to face the tent wall, dipping his hat a little. Maybe he’d fall asleep here, and it would be the perfect crime scene for everyone to experience the next morning. You’d no doubt let him slumber here throughout the night, but you’d likely drag him into the bed, knowing how sore his back got every now and then.

You wanted to make sure he was comfortable, you wanted to take care of him. You knew by now all of his little quirks and strange necessities, and were willing to bend over backwards to make sure he got them. You were willing to do anything it took to make sure he smiled at you like he’d just done seconds ago, to keep that look on his face whenever your eyes met, even in a crowded room.

You’d lasso the moon for him if he asked, and pull it down so he could know its beauty from a closer perspective. You’d come to the conclusion that no matter which way you framed it, you were in love with Arthur Morgan. Had been for some time, but denial was a strong presence within you, and you were stubborn as hell when it came to admission.

You both eventually fell asleep like that, leaning against each other on the ground, and no effort of getting into the bed came about.

Bill’s face was indeed priceless, but you think you got more of a laugh from Sean. You didn’t even need to see his face, you heard his hollering from across the camp. You’d been cleaning rifles when the other redhead’s bellowing voice made you giggle. You’re sure that Arthur was annoyed as hell, but you’ll thank him for putting up with everything later.

The strangeness of the men lingered only a bit longer, but when a few days passed, and Arthur started acting more protective out of nature towards anything that was said about you, they backed off. In their minds, you were Arthur’s girl… Off limits to everyone else.

There were of course more than just the men who had heard about your ‘all nighter’ with Arthur.

The women, albeit a bit nosy, were actually quite fun to gossip with. It seemed like faking the loss of your innocence with Arthur did wonders for the whole camp and their acts of shunning you. Did it bother you? Only slightly… it would have been worse if you’d actually gone through with it and appeased the camp

“Is he a good kisser? He did kiss you, right?” and “Did it hurt? I bet it hurt, he’s a big man…” were your favorite contenders for questions asked. You did as you needed to, alluding to the facts without actually saying anything of substance. To be very clear, nothing happened in the tent that night, or in the morning before he left. You had no actual idea if anything you were hinting at was true, but that was the fun of it.

“You measured your cycle, didn’t you? You don’t wanna end up like me,” Abigail chimed in, Jack thrashing around on her hip while he cried. He was a sweet baby, but sometimes he was just a mess to deal with, and being in a camp full of outlaws didn’t help anything.

“Yeah, I did…”

“Did he uh… prepare you first?” Karen chimed in with her own curiosities, and a small giggle followed. They knew that Arthur was the best of the men, and he was good to women… but none of them had gotten up close and personal proof of that fact.

“Yes?” You answered with a bout of confusion… preparation? Your mother never mentioned nothing about damn preparation.

“Lucky girl,” she sighed out, her eyes rolling dramatically. “You really are, I hope you know. Arthur’s the best of the men.”

“Oh I know, trust me,” you snickered at just how lucky you were. These girls were drooling over the details you gave them. All were false, but you knew he’d own up to every single one of them, because he was just that good and kind to you. He was like a loyal dog, Dutch said, and he was right. You were more than lucky to have his care and protection, and it started to feel intimate in a way that sex never could.

There was a word for that, you think… devotion.

“So, are you Arthur’s girl, now?”

That one caught you off guard, because even with a fake answer, you weren’t quite sure what to say.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you answered truthfully for the first time that morning, and it was almost refreshing to speak something that wasn’t just a blatant lie.

“It was just a one off, then?” Abigail furrowed her brows. Since she’d rejected Arthur’s offer, she’d been starting to feel some regret. He was indeed the best of the men, and she’d turned him away in favor of a man who left her. How silly that was… but she knows it’s too late, now.

“I hope not,” you said nervously, again with truth.

“You’re fond of him, we can all tell…”

You looked at them with surprise and a bit of alarm. “Since when?”

Karen leaned in on her elbows with a small giggle at your reaction. She quieted herself as to not draw more attention to this side of camp, in fears Miss Grimshaw would come force them all to start back on the chores.

“It’s funny, when we found out you weren’t a boy, everything kinda made sense,” she chuckled.

Abigail kept nodding along, her smile broadening. “You used to follow him around like a puppy, we all thought it was because you looked up to him, wanted to be like him.”

“Even I could tell, and I’d been pretty blinded by my own fondness of you,” Tilly joked, nudging you in the arm as you’d come to the realization that even under the guise of Texas Red, you had absolutely no subtlety.

“Was it that obvious?” you asked in annoyance with yourself. You dipped your head into your hands when they all nodded in the affirmative.

The girls were about to start round two of questions when Dutch and Hosea came out of the center tent, Dutch commanding the attention of all the members in the camp.

“Everyone, listen up!” His large and brutal steps seemed angry, and you waited patiently to find out why. “We’re moving camp!”

Everyone was immediately caught up in the new announcement, conquests of nights past becoming completely forgotten. Questions of ‘Why?’ and ‘What happened?’ were uttered, as this seemed very sudden. The cash flow from Agua Fria was rather booming, and it didn’t seem like there needed to be a move.

“I’ve just gotten word from Davey that the Pinkertons know we’re here. They’re looking for the camp as we speak, so we’ve got to go.”

His intense speech was followed by everyone leaving where they were, running around and trying to get things packed into the wagons, tents included.

You were new to the ‘being on the run’ part of outlaw life, as even before when you were just a gunslinger, the law never chased you. You’d earned a reputation for killin’ folk, but the law deemed you harmless when they found out that you only shot those who wanted to shoot you first. You’d not ever committed a real crime among the citizens, and even paid your way for everything. It was only after becoming a Van Der Linde that you figured you were about to be in trouble.

You had your entire living situation torn down and packed up within the hour, tying it all together and slinging it in the back of Arthur’s wagon. You came around the corner and saw that he was still packing up. Being here longer meant he had quite a few more belongings to take care of.

“Need some help?” You smiled at him, ready to lend a hand.

“You done already?” He responded to your question with one of his own, pleasant surprise in his expression.

“Not much to pack away,” you reasoned, no longer waiting for him to answer you as you started dismantling his cot and rolling up the canvas around the iron bar pieces.

You were happy to help him get done faster, you’re sure with his strength and size he’d be needed elsewhere soon. You did have a few questions for him, though.

“I don’t think I ever asked… When did you all get here?”

“Not long before you did, I reckon. We used to be able to stay years in the same spot, the law would never catch us…” he shook his head, tossing some picture frames he had into a sack. “Times are changin’ for folk like us.”

“You were here before me?” You asked in confusion. Obviously they were at the camp before you… but you’d been in Agua Fria for over a year yourself.

“Yeah, and we’d all heard the stories about Texas Red before we even met ya,” he chuckled, his speed increasing the more he saw other members of camp rushing with panic to get moving before sundown. “The day Dutch brought you back, I almost thought he was kiddin'.”

“Glad to know I made a good impression,” you teased, a laugh being huffed out with slight annoyance while you heaved his clothing chest up and into the wagon. Probably a heavier item you should have left for him, but then that wouldn’t be helping.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He assisted you in shoving the chest further in the wagon, since you struggled just slightly, and didn’t want to bend over in your skirt. “I just had it in my head that you’d be all big n’ scary.”

“You mean more like you?” you taunted, giving him a smirk to show you didn’t actually think he was big and scary.

“I guess so,” he shook his head, throwing his sack of belongings in with the other junk. “But then I first saw you, talkin’ with Tilly and Abigail… you looked all scrawny and what not. I thought, this can’t be the kid I’ve been hearin’ about.”

“And what do you think of me now?” You asked honestly, stopping the haste of the afternoon for only a moment to share a gaze with someone special to you. He stopped too, a side smile pulling at his lips when he answered.

“I think you’re much scarier, now…” he trailed, reaching his hand to touch your hair where it had grown just below your ears.

“You think I’m scary?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, his eyes meeting yours.

“Terrifyin’...”

He started to get closer, and in the setting light of the day, you almost thought he might close the small gap, but then-

“Arthur!” Pearson’s shrill voice rang out loudly, and you flinched away from the moment, coming back to reality. “I need you over here!”

“Just give me a damn second!” He shouted back, but by the time he’d turned his attention to you again, you’d jumped away from him from the startle, and the moment was cut short. “I better get over there…”

“I’ll finish up for you,” you waved him off, moving to the barrel with his shaving kit. It was one of the last things that needed packing.

“I’ll owe ya,” he nodded, tipping his hat forward before having to run off.

He wouldn’t owe you a damn thing.

The gang traveled north and west for several days, until coming to a clearing in a nice little town called El Paso. What could be so great about this town? Well, for starters, the law was mighty thin in this region, and there were roads nearby that had rich folk traveling as well. Dutch said it was like an outlaw’s paradise…

He’d also mentioned there was a railway station in the next town over, something to look into.

Arthur had done so right away, leaving the newly set up camp for a few days to scope out the area and put on a good cover. He was always the best man for the job, so you couldn’t complain about him being away, but there was of course a downside. Neither you nor Arthur pulled a stunt in the new camp like you had at the old one, and with him being gone, it gave the men a bit of leeway to behave as they did before.

It wasn’t as sexual as it had been, but their bad attitudes towards you, and now that you’re seeing it, the other women as well, was atrocious. You’d been so blind to it all when you didn’t have to deal with it first hand, but now that you did, it was constant.

Bill was the worst, as you knew him to be. He often didn’t even wait for Miss Grimshaw to collect the laundry anymore, just throwing dirty shirts and trousers in your direction and telling you he needed it cleaned the next day.

“Not my job, not my problem,” you threw the articles of clothing at him every time, and every time he’d just scoff and go to the next woman, who would do as she was told because, even though you’d lucked out in skill, the others still had to earn their keep somehow.

Lucking out in skill didn’t even seem to be helping you recently. Every job you suggested you could help with, Dutch turned you down. It had even caused a fight with Hosea, who wanted you to go in his place.

Hosea had kept his distance with you when your secret was first revealed. Not to be cruel or unfair, but because you’d been embarrassed about the whole thing, and he could sense you didn’t want to open up to anyone right away.

He did, however, become far more acquainted with you on the journey to El Paso.

“I think you’re a mighty brave person, you know,” he’d struck up the conversation.

“Me? Brave? I just shoot folk,” you shook your head, watching the horses in front of you both as they towed the wagon you sat on. “Ain’t nothin’ brave about that.”

“Not for shootin’ folk… I think you’re brave for bein’ on your own as long as you were. Especially a young woman.”

“Well, I appreciate you sayin’ so… but nobody knew I was a young woman, it sort of helped.”

He’d nodded sweetly, giving you a smile and a pat on the shoulder. The gentle and comforting talks between you became common from then on.

Arthur had come back to the camp one morning, when everyone had woken, bringing a few different things. His first stop was Dutch, obviously, giving the intel over so a plan could be formed. The next job was going to be important. If it went down well, then this little town could be a great place to settle for the months to come, but if not, it would allow you all to know just how involved the law in this town actually was. You’d heard it wasn’t much.

When Arthur came out of Dutch’s tent, he made a beeline to you… or more specifically, your tent. He actually didn’t even see you sitting across from your living quarters when he approached it, but you watched him with great curiosity on what he was doing. He’d been distant since leaving Agua Fria and arriving here, and you wondered if he was trying to rectify that.

He left your tent just as quick as he went in, and met your eyes with a small nod and a soft smile. He’d been caught. He just went on his way after that, and didn’t even bother to greet you properly.

You furrowed your brows, dropping the rifle you were cleaning before going inside your tent. He obviously didn’t take anything, you knew that. You didn’t keep anything of value except for your pistol, thirty-two notches now carved into the stock, but you always kept it on you...

When you looked at your cot, you found only one thing out of place. A pretty orange flower laying against your rolled up woolen blanket. Its bottom petal was slightly bent, and you wondered if he had kept it in his satchel on the ride back to camp.

It was very sweet of him to think of you, and bring it back. You don’t think you’ve ever told him how much you like the color orange, but you reckon he just brought back the flower without even thinking about the color.

You wanted to go and thank him, to talk with him for the first time in several days. You missed him whenever he was gone… you always hoped he missed you, too. He probably missed everyone, but he brought you an orange flower.

He was somehow already on the other side of camp, hassling Pearson about something nonsensical you’re sure, getting the man riled up over probably nothing. Pearson was a decent guy, but he was a little obnoxious, so teasing him was something you could definitely condone. You thought about just marching up and breaking up the scene, but then thought it might be better to instead make a lesser deal of it, just like he did.

The men left the flower with no words to be said, so you’d thank him for it the same way… unless of course he broke the silence first.

You tucked the flower behind your ear, letting the orange color sit nicely against the similar shade of your hair. You ran over to Arthur’s shaving barrel, close to the edge of your living area, and checked how it looked before walking nonchalantly towards Pearson’s kitchen.

They were still grobbling over nothing, but when you came to the table, leaning forwards on it they both stopped.

“What can I do ya for, miss?” Pearson asked, having become a much kinder, albeit a little bit more sarcastic person to you since your secret came out.

“Just wondering what’s for dinner tonight…”

“How about that, Arthur, she wants to know what’s for dinner,” the man laughed, hands on his hips when he looked back to the younger counterpart.

“I’m goin, I’m goin,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly knowing he was the one responsible for hunting today. He’d just gotten back, but of course they made him do damn near everything. “You wanna come with me, Red?”

“Me? Huntin’? I’ve never been, I’d probably scare ‘em off…” you resisted slightly, but knew that if he asked you a second time there would be no hesitation.

“I’ll teach ya,” he offered, nodding his head towards the horses. “Not like they’d get far with your shootin’, anyway.”

You followed him immediately, picking up your skirt and rushing up behind him. Hunting with Arthur seemed like a mighty good idea at first, until you realized Dutch would probably be upset with you for not finishing the rifles… Tossing it over in your head for only a moment more, you neglected the prospect of the rifles.

You could tell that Dutch was slowly trying to keep you out of the shooting jobs, even if you were the fastest gun in camp. Somehow learning you were not a man had tainted his idea of you… the one he’d spoken so highly of that first day to Arthur and Hosea. You supposed that going along with Arthur could only help you in the long run.

You went to saddle your horse, but he stopped you, a gentle hand on your wrist, letting go as soon as he had your attention. “We don’t need ‘em both, just ride with me.”

You nodded, doing as you were told and trying not to make a big deal out of it. He’d helped you up first, hands placed carefully at your waist when he heaved you upwards. He climbed up in front of you, and suddenly you didn’t know where to put your hands. You’d never ridden behind a saddle before, you never needed to.

“That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp.

The train job had been decided, but not without long and strenuous arguments about the roles to be played.

The first draft of said plan excluded you, and you didn’t even have to wonder why. None of the other women were included, either.

The second draft of the plan included both you and Abigail, but as mere pawns instead of actual roles.

The final plan will go as follows:

Abigail is going to make it so that a certain man never boards the train with his colleague. Fair enough, she is definitely the woman for the job, as even having her in the near vicinity of a man is distraction enough. You will board the train with the colleague, and lead him to believe that you’re frightened of the journey ahead, getting him to drink with you and become more ‘comfortable.’ After that, it’s up to you to lure him to the back of the train, where Arthur, Bill, and Dutch will be waiting to interrogate this man, and find out where his private safe is. From there, Javier, who will be at the front of the train, will cause it to stop by sticking up the enginemen so you all can hop off at a designated point.

From there you’ll go find the man’s safe, and rob him before he even has a chance to understand what’s happened to him. This is the only chance you will have at this job, since the man in question will be leaving El Paso once and for all.

It sounds like a solid plan, except for the fact that it was suggested you don’t even need a gun.

“Of course she needs a gun, Dutch, she’s the fastest one here,” Hosea argued, a hand running over his face.

“If we’re not planning on shooting, what makes you think she needs to bring it with her? It could blow our cover,” Dutch insisted, arms waving around for emphasis. He didn’t even make a good point, because as it were, you always kept a gun on you in the holster on your thigh, a little present from the man you gave you flowers.

“You’re sending her to do the most dangerous part of the job, she needs a weapon.”

“If Abigail doesn’t need one, then she doesn’t need one, either,” Dutch reasoned, but that just made you chime in.

“Abigail should have one, too. Everyone involved on a job should have protective assurance, just in case,” you shrugged, uncrossing your arms and leaning on the table. “I don’t even leave camp without my pistol.”

Dutch sighed, having dug himself into a deeper hole the more he kept on talking. He was smart, and he had a way with words, but he wasn’t going to be able to pull something like this and now he knew it. You’d been attached to that pistol for far longer than you have been to the camp.

“Alright,” he nodded, continuing his explanation of what happens after they find the man’s personal safe.

The man in the plan was named Albert Templeton, and he apparently was a very wealthy man, looking to make it big in the west by covering as many territories as he could with his canning factories. From what Dutch says, he seems to be a very selfish, very ambitious, and very rich man.

You agree to this job, unknowing of the way it will unfold, but when you finally board that train, handing over your ticket with your hands shaking, you don’t know what to do, suddenly.

Everything is going according to plan, except for the fact that you have absolutely no experience in trying to get a man drunk on purpose.

“You look, a bit frightened, miss, are you alright?” Mr. Albert Templeton asked, right after you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him.

“Yes… Well, no… I’ve never been on a train before,” you huffed out, your stressed tone coming across perfectly for the job. “You seem like you’ve been on many.”

“That I have, my dear,” he smiled eerily, moving an unwanted hand to your hip to try and guide you to the bench he was sitting at. “Come and sit with me, perhaps I can ease your mind.”

“How gracious of you,” you played along, sitting down beside him in the seat closest to the window. You didn’t like feeling trapped between him and the wall, but there was no difference. You still had a gun up your leg if he tried anything stupid.

“So, where are you headed?”

“Oh,” you had forgotten to think of a backstory, so as quickly as you could, you made one up. “I’m going to visit my aunt. She’s very Ill, otherwise she would have come to see me. She knows I don’t like trains.”

“How unfortunate for her,” he nodded, snaking his arm behind you on the back of the bench seat, caging you in further. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for your company.”

“I hope so, we’ve always been a great comfort to one another.”

The conversation kept on like this for a while, until you realized you were getting closer and closer to the point of which Dutch needed him in the back, but he hadn’t even gotten to the bar of the train car yet.

“Would you have a drink with me, sir? I feel that maybe it would ease my nerves a bit.”

He laughed, a smile on his face when he leaned back to you. “I never drink on trains. But I would be much obliged to buy you one, yourself.”

You started to panic from there.

You smiled at him and nodded, getting him to stand up… however, before you got him to the bar, you tried to carefully and quietly take your gun from its holster, pressing it against the rib of the man before you. He froze, knowing what was happening immediately.

“Don’t make a sound. Just keep walking until I tell you to stop, you hear?”

He nodded, making his way to the end of the car, going into the next one, and the next one after that until you could see three familiar faces sitting and waiting for you.

“What the hell is this?” Dutch asked, his eyes narrowing in on the gun in your hand.

“He wouldn’t drink, had to come up with something else.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face. This is why you usually rode with him. You did things the way he would, and not with the gentle and intelligent touch of a female outlaw like Abigail. For all intents and purposes, you'd always been a man, and this was breaking the cycle for you.

“Please don’t hurt me, I have nothing you could want.”

“The hell you don’t,” Dutch manhandled Albert onto a cargo box, pulling his own gun and holding it to strike fear into the man. “We’ve heard about the safe.”

“What safe?” He played dumb, and then Dutch immediately got angry.

“You see? This is why he needed to be drunk!” Dutch took out his anger for the situation on you, even though the majority of this was not your fault.

“Told ya, she should be back at camp fixing buttons and shit with the others,” Bill shook his head, and you were about to pull your gun in his direction if he said another word.

“He wouldn’t drink, it ain’t her fault. She still got him to us… I say we make him talk,” Arthur stood up, clenching his fists and intimidating the man by coming closer. “S’nothing I ain’t used to.”

“Do what you can, Arthur… and you,” Dutch pointed in your direction, his brow still angry. “Go back up there and make sure no one saw you pull that gun.”

You nodded, taking yourself away from the scene in order to keep your composure. Arthur stood up for you, but you could tell that even he was upset about straying from the plan. This was a big job, with many key elements. One thing going wrong could ruin it all.

You made your way back, but saw Javier rushing towards you in the bar car, his gun out as he tried to reach you.

“Brooks,” he started to shove you back to the car you came from, and just over his shoulder you could see the men trailing not too far behind, looking like train security. “We have to go, they know we’re here.”

You started rushing for the last car again, tripping over your skirts here and there. This dress was not practical, and was far too formal for a job like the one you were pulling. You much preferred the one Arthur bought you, but Dutch insisted it didn’t ‘sell the story’ that you were trying to tell.

“Why in God’s name are you back here?”

Dutch didn’t have a minute to grill you, because Javier took the floor first.

“They know we’re here, there’s about five men heading this way, now. Maybe more.”

Arthur sighed heavily, pulling his fist back to his side. He’d only hit Mr Albert Temlpeton a few times, but it seemed the job was going south, and he hadn’t said anything anyway.

“Arthur, turn him loose, the rest of you, find cover… we’re gonna have to shoot our way out.”

Albert taking off through the doors only allowed the train guards to know exactly where you all were hiding. With guns blazing, the five of you were able to get past the small group that had headed for you… but once you got to the civilian travel cars, there were more, and they had bigger guns, too. You got scared to pull a gun in a heavily crowded train car, especially one that had innocent men, women, and children inside. You held your aim, like always, but got scared when the second round of guards came for you.

“Drop your weapons!” The man at the front of them shouted. “Get on the ground, now!”

“Or maybe we could walk right through,” Dutch was the first to shoot, nailing the man right in the face. It was challenging to stay focused on the task at hand, when so many people were screaming.

A child was crying, and most everyone was just trying to duck in their seats as the bullets flew. You were too scared to shoot at first, seeing the windows break around you, and the high speed of the train causing the winds to blow inside the car, making it hard to hear anything.

You tried to hold your ground, knowing you were a better shot than anyone here… but there comes a time in everyone’s life, when the chaos prevents them from doing the one thing they know how to… this was that moment for you. Everything was caving in. You’d completely ruined this job, and it was going haywire because of you. You put your friends, no, family, in a very dangerous position, and most of all, you put innocent men, women, and children on the front lines to fend for themselves. All because you strayed from the plan.

You saw it, but it was too late… the man had pulled his gun directly towards you, and you barely had any time to react this time. You still fired first, and still shot him dead first, but his bullet still left the barrel, skewing downwards because of your own shot, and hitting you directly by your left hip.

You collapsed into a seat, trying to get yourself back up. You started bleeding profusely with every steep movement you made, and once the last Guard had been shot down, Arthur saw what happened to you.

“Red!” he shouted, reaching for your body, making sure you’d not been hit badly. He was relieved to see it was a hip shot, but the amount of blood concerned him greatly. “Can you stand?”

“I can try,” you groaned out, holstering your gun before using him as a lift.

The others went to the front of the car, not wasting any time, but as soon as they looked through the broken window, they could see more men quickly approaching.

“Shit, we can’t stop the train.”

“We’ll have to jump from the back of this car,” Javier responded to Dutch, who was pacing back and forth, glaring daggers at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“Are we close enough to the exit point?”

“It doesn’t matter, the ground is even now, we need to jump before the bridge.”

Arthur was freaking out, trying to hold pressure to your hip and hold you upright, while they were talking about jumping off a train. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so stressed out about a job before.

You start to get light headed suddenly, and sway in his hold, trying to keep yourself balanced, though the train is making it hard to do that anyways.

The sound becomes fuzzy, but you can here when Dutch calls everyone back to the door of the cabin car.

“Stay with me,” Arthur tells you, watching your head tilt forward and your eyes get heavy. He knew you would pull through, because even though you were losing a decent amount of blood, you were still on your feet, moving along with him. You were a fighter, he’d known since he met you. Probably because you liked fighting him on damn near everything he said.

He stood at the edge of the rail, the only thing separating the gang from jumping the transport was a little dingy chain that hooked onto the edge of the cabin car.

“It’s up here!” Javier shouted, removing the chain and getting ready to disembark.

“We gotta jump, Red,” he tried to keep you conscious, and you nodded, but you were clearly too weak to do this yourself right now.

You felt yourself being tucked closer to Arthur, his arms coming around you. You finally closed your eyes, unsure if they would even stay open on their own anymore. Then there was a lift and a jump. You felt the air around you flying fast until the wind got knocked out of you, hitting the ground. Arthur took the harder fall, but to be fair, he hadn’t been shot.

You opened your eyes in a rush of adrenaline, but once you caught your breath, it started to fade again.

Everyone stood up, including you, but you were still wobbling back and forth.

“Well,” Dutch looked to Bill and Javier, “We’re alive, but we got nothing.”

“S’all the girl’s fault,” Bill spat out some blood from his bleeding lip and shook his head.

You didn’t even have the motivation to call him out right now. Didn’t have the energy to stand, either. Before Arthur could even steady you, your head started throbbing, and you hit the ground again, hand over your open wound.

The sounds were familiar when you came to. The usual ruckus of the camp, nothing strange or out of the ordinary… except for when you tried to sit up you were immediately pushed back down. You had a look around and saw that you were not in your tent, but lying in Arthur’s cot. His gentle push was what kept you laid back, and you saw the look on his face when he found out you were awake.

“Don’t get up, I gotta fix you so ya don’t bleed out.”

You didn’t say anything, just obeyed his instruction.

He’d gotten that stupid puffed sleeve nonsense off of you, leaving you in a corset and chemise and a small petticoat. Of which he was having a hard time figuring out how to untie.

“I’ll get it,” you leaned up slightly, groaning when you did. You untied the petticoat, and worked off the corset while you were at it. Being in a chemise and bloomers in front of the camp wasn’t an irregular thing, as it was standard sleepwear when on the run. There were not many normalities when being an outlaw, but even still, you nearly felt embarrassed being in such a skimpy state of dress, especially when he wasn’t even done.

He looked to you, his hands on the hem of your chemise, and you nodded to him in permission.

He pulled it back, only enough to see where the blood was seeping through. His face twisted in disgust of the wound before shaking it off and getting to work. You laid back and waited, knowing that when all was said and done, you didn’t want to watch yourself get stitched up. You’d never had to do it to yourself before, and thank God for that.

“It was stupid, what you did…” He brought up, cleaning the wound with some whiskey on a rag.

“I know,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

He paused his wording, unsure of what else to say to you. He’s sure getting shot was a revelation for you that you weren’t invincible, but he also wanted you to know you weren’t blameless in this endeavor, either.

“You got some innocent folk killed today.”

When the first and second stitch went in, you were about ready to die. Him telling you this was not helping with the outstanding pain.

“You know I never meant for it to happen…” you trailed, thinking about those poor children that you heard screaming in the train today. Such a sad and significant moment, and you’ll never forget it. You knew you’d been the one to cause them such distress, and some of those innocent folk were dead now.

“You sure about that?” He looked up at you from his task, his hands still gently working your skin back together. His actions and words confused you, because they were so opposite right now, and you didn’t know why.

“What do you mean?” You met his gaze, a furrowed brow on your face.

“As I see it… you used to kill a lotta folk just for fun before I met you.”

Why is he even bringing this up? You’d told him why you did what you did, and how much of a toll it took on you… so why now, when all this has transpired, would he bring up the origins of your gunslinger facade?

“Arthur… I did what I had to. They would have killed me first. I ain’t never started a duel in my life, n’ you know that,” you reminded him, and he seemed to understand that it was wrong of him to say. He didn’t apologize, though… just kept on with what he felt he needed to say.

“Look, all I’m sayin is… you had one job today, and it felt like you went off the road just to spite Dutch,” he argued, tying off the thread that pulled your skin closed. There was still cleaning to be done around the wound, and some sort of bandage would need to be applied, just in case of excess bleeding… but you sat up, stopping him from finishing anything.

“Is that what he told you?” you asked, referring to Dutch, of course.

“No, I was wonderin about it myself.”

“I wasn’t tryna get anybody hurt. Dutch used to put me riding with you, remember? I always did good. Now he wants me to do a job he thinks a woman is suited for, and I’m not so good anymore. Why do you think that is?” You asked, the annoyance written all over your face and dripping in your words.

“You could’ve called it off. We could have just told Javier to come back and wait it out until the next station. We’ve bailed on jobs before when it got too dangerous…” he explained, his voice raising just slightly again to meet your level of ferocity.

You took a second to breathe when he spoke. In all honesty, you’d never had to leave a job before, because when you started riding with them as Texas Red, the jobs always went through. No one told you about the bail out rule.

“I didn’t know that...”

“Well you should’ve at least told us he wouldn’t drink. Then you wouldn’t be to blame.” He didn’t quite meet you at the calm state, his anger still peeking, even when yours had come down. Saying what he just said was about to make matters so much worse, though.

“You think I’m to blame?”

“I think you played a massive part in this shit hole, yeah…” he huffed out, nodding his head and looking at you as if that should somehow get you to agree with him.

“I don’t wanna hear this anymore,” you scoffed, standing to your feet and grabbing your belongings. You felt the sting of the stitches pulling, and tried to be mindful of them, but the way he was speaking to you, especially while you bled on his cot, was not something you could take.

“Get back here, I ain’t finished cleanin’ you up.” He stood to his feet, trying to take steps after you, but even injured, you were stubborn and quick on your feet, pulling away from his reach.

“Abigail will help me.”

“You stubborn ass, why can’t you ever just listen when you’re wrong?” He shouted after you, which had you turning on your heel to shout back to his face.

“Maybe because I’m not!”

Your face didn’t even read anger as much as in did pain. Not the physical kind. The ailments you faced with your body, you took like a champ… but this pain in your heart and mind was far more complicated, and when he saw how saddened you were by him, he didn’t know what to do… but of course, his anger was still rising, though yours turned to something else.

“Damnit, Red… you’re gonna find yourself in a nice deep hole someday, and you’ll have pushed away everyone that cares to help you out of it.”

“I can climb out of it myself, then.” You muttered, taking the steps back to him so he could really look you in the eye when you said this… “I used to think you cared about me… wanted to help me. But you’re just like him.”

“Like who?” he asks, jutting his chin out for a moment to seem tough.

“You’re just like Dutch… just want me to play the part of the sweet little pet that lures the men into your jobs. I won’t do it… I can’t do it, clearly.”

“That ain’t what this is about,” He grabbed your wrist as you went to turn away again, and you pulled it loose. “You know I think you’re talented with that gun.”

“Then why don’t you ever fight for me to use it? Why is it that every time Dutch wants to make me into something I’m not, you stand by and watch it happen?” You weren’t meaning it as a hypothetical question, you really wanted an answer. Standing here, the camp noise having been drowned out by your argument, you watched as he searched for something to say, but he couldn’t find anything… nothing that could save him, at least. “That’s what I thought… just stay away from me, Arthur.”

“Red?”

“Leave me alone!”

You took to the new town, the argument with Arthur the days prior still fresh on your mind. You knew you’d messed everything up, and it was most definitely your fault. You can only see it now, Dutch giving a big speech while you’re away to convince everyone that you shouldn’t be doing big jobs anymore. If only he’d just given you Javier’s place on the train, and had Abigail or Karen go after Albert Templeton, the gang might be a couple thousand bucks richer right now.

You’d not just taken to the town as the girl they wanted you to be, because that girl didn’t exist.

There was only the girl you grew up as, and Texas Red, no in-between. It wasn’t the sweet Miss Brooks going into the bustling saloon of El Paso, it was Texas Red, the unkillable.

Maybe that’s where you’d gone all wrong. Wearing dresses, letting your hair start to grow, and even wiping the muck off your face whenever it gets there… you’d practically handed them a reason to treat you differently.

All of this is your fault. The mistreatment, the exclusion, the job gone wrong, everything.

It’s the heavy weight on your mind when you roll up to the bar, gun hanging heavy on your hip, the now thirty-three notches becoming a bigger and stronger presence every time you reach for it.

“Whiskey, double,” you knocked on the wooden bar slab, a grimace on your face while waiting for the drink. You put the money down immediately, just as always. It became a habit as soon as interruptions became common anytime you went for a whiskey.

You threw back the first drink then ordered another, throwing that one back, too. You got into a steady rhythm until there was a tap on your shoulder.

You turned around, eyes becoming glazed, and hands becoming tightly fisted. Whoever was bothering you has no idea how much of a mood you’re in, but if they aren’t careful, they’re gonna end up dead.

“Hey, I know you,” the man spoke. He looked to be about early forties, with silver lines in his dark hair, and smile lines over his cheeks.

You gave him a look, up and down, before you decided he was mistaken.

“No, you don’t.” You turned back to the bar, but he tapped your shoulder again, and the pistol at your side was feeling oh so heavy, waiting for your hand to pull it.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you,” he laughed, a broad and excited smile. “You’re that Texas Red fellar from down in Agua Fria.”

“Just ‘cuz I got red hair, it don’t make me Texas Red,” you slurred, slightly, the alcohol buzzing your senses, but not your reflexes. Your hands are practically itching to shoot something, or someone, and this guy seems like the perfect target.

“Nah, I know s’you,” he seemed a little drunk, too… but probably not drunk enough to walk away. “Seen your face when you shot that farmer.”

“Farmer?” You don’t even recall a farmer-

“Robert Sims… good man that fellow,” he droned on, seemingly hesitant to get to the point. “But you were the better shot.”

“M’sorry if he was a friend’a yours,” you gave condolences, hoping it would shoo him away, but as you remember, they never go away. “I didn’t wanna shoot ‘im.”

“Nah, he wanted to shoot you,” the man nodded, backing away only slightly before pulling his coat back, revealing a pistol of his own, right on his hip. No notches. “I wanna shoot you, too.”

You rolled your eyes and heaved a breath, looking to the man with a direct gaze. “You’re too drunk, you’ll die.”

He tapped the wooden counter, where your unfinished drink was sitting. “You’ve been drinkin’ too, been watchin’ ya.”

“So you think it’s fair?” You laughed, knowing you were nowhere near drunk enough to miss even a moving target, and be fast enough to hit him first. Maybe your fingers had been itchin’ for a reason, and this was it.

Shooting this man may not bring you joy, but it would bring some security. You’re still as good as they say, despite Dutch and some of the others back at camp. You’re still Texas Red, and you’re still unkillable. Earning the respect of this town, just as you did in Agua Fria would bring you that feeling of confidence that you had slowly been losing in the gang.

“I think I like my chances,” he quipped, earning some oohs from the crowd in the bar. By now you both held almost every ear within the reach of your voices, and the attention was deafening.

They always say that… Why do they always say that?

“Alright,” you turned back to the bar, slamming your drink. “Let’s take it outside.”

The cheering, followed by the chants of your challenger’s name were louder than you expected. They don’t know you, but they will.

You set your pistol, taking thirty paces away from your opposer. As soon as you turn around, there’s a silence amongst the whole town. You watch the man’s hands, the alcohol doing nothing to stop your trigger fingers from getting ready. You never draw first. It’s already an unfair fight, why make it worse?

“Need me to count?” the man says, and you shake your head, thinking you ought to just shoot him. He’s an obnoxious bastard, but he’s cocky and confident, you’ll give him that.

“I ain’t one for countin’,” you yelled, and saw that he almost seemed a little nervous, now. He was always nervous, but now it was on his face. He was drunk, and this was stupid. You should just shoot him in the hand and let him walk away… but you don’t.

You’ve been angry since what happened with Arthur, and you have to take it out somehow. If you can’t drink in peace without ass-hats like this bothering you, then you just have to take care of the ass-hats.

Suddenly, you see his hand dip, gripping the stock and beginning to pull it. You reacted like always, your hand on autopilot while your brain was elsewhere.

The man was dead in less than a second, and you came back to reality with a hammering soberness once the shot rang out.

Thirty-four....

It was the adrenaline, finally kicking in, only long enough to give you a moment of clarity… and looking up from the dead man, across the way by the general store, stood Arthur. He was probably getting supplies for the camp.

He’d stopped to watch, a look of disappointment on his face. He doesn’t think himself a good man, but he’s never had to go from town to town, striking fear into those he meets. He tries to be kind when he can, earning the trust of people, unlike you. You haven’t even earned the trust of the people in camp. You’ve lied to all of them.

The crowd’s cheers and encouragement pull you out of your haze, and a man jumps in front of you, separating your vision of Arthur. You didn’t want to see his sad eyes, anyways.

Everyone pulls you back inside the saloon, and the music strikes back up again… maybe this ain’t so bad after all.

Ten drinks is a lot for anyone, but especially for you, who already had multiple drinks upon first walking into the saloon. No one else dared challenge you, nor did they want to. The drunker you got, the crazier you seemed to act, your reserved gunslinger facade melted right away, and you turned into something of a wild man. The people were very entertained by your stories, the ones about Agua Fria, and then of course traveling with a gang to explore the west. You left names out, of course. Just because you were drunk, didn’t mean you were stupid.

It was after you started stuttering over your feet that two working girls came up to you. They were some of the most gorgeous women you’d ever seen, busty around the chest, with low necklines, and stunning faces framed by their bouncy brushed out hair.

“Can I help you ladies?” You tipped your hat to them, a smirk on your lips from the last joke you told to the crowd.

“We were hopin’ we could help you,” The blonde one spoke, and with a smile she started to lean against your arm. “We’ll knock the price for two…”

“That’s very kind’a you, but I ain’t gettin’ a room,” you told them, the same excuse you always had used for women of the night in Agua Fria.

“We’ll get the room, handsome… just pay the price of one for a night,” the brunette girl said, trying to hang off your shoulder, running her hands over it. You had to slide back into the bar to avoid getting her hands on your chest. If she did then you’d be in deep shit.

“How about I make a trip back here some other time, then I’ll come n’ see you two?”

The blonde girl didn’t seem to be holding back, her lips trailing mighty close to your ear. You always knew how to play the part, but you never expected that women would be falling over you this way. It was both alarming and reassuring.

“You sure? Why don’t we just take a ride out back?”

You were getting woozy, the way they pulled at your arms while you were leaning against the bar was swirling your head.

“There ya are, Red!” Came a familiar voice from the side of you. “Knew I’d find you in here…”

“Arthur?” Your vision was only slightly fuzzy, but you could always make out the clear silhouette of the most towering and strongly built man you knew.

“Thanks for findin’ my brother, girls,” he played it off, reaching for your arm to pull you forward. You resisted him at first. “C’mon Red, let’s get you a nice place to sleep tonight.”

“No,” you pulled out of his grasp, unwilling to be manhandled by the same person who told you all those awful things just a few days ago. “I wanna stay with my new friends.”

“They ain’t your friends, kid. C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged you forwards, heaving you up to stand on your own two feet, before picking you up like a hay bale, letting you dangle under his arm as he made his way for the stairs.

“Hey! Let me down!” You cried, squirming in his hold.

He’d already paid for a room for the night, but getting you up there was hell. “Would you stop fightin’ me?”

“No, I wanna go back downstairs…” You trailed, getting stood upright again as he shoved you into a room and closed the door.

“If you do that, Texas Red is as good as dead.”

He locked the door and made sure to put a chair under the knob. He didn’t necessarily know how the folk in this town behaved yet. You’d seen more of it than he had since arriving.

“Ain’t no man ever killed me,” You droned on, your words pouring out like that of a child, with little to no thought.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean them pretty girls that wanted to take me for a ride?” You laughed, letting him push you until you were sat on the bed. He knelt down and helped you take your boots off before tugging your hat from your head, throwing it in a chair.

“S’not the kinda ride you were thinkin’,” he sighed, unsure of if you even knew how drunk you were.

“You mean the other kinda ride?” Your obnoxious and bellaring voice could nearly pierce the walls when you were this inebriated.

“Would you stop bein’ so damn loud? Whole place is gonna hear you n’ yer blabberin’...”

“You’re just jealous cuz the girls were fallin’ all over me instead’a you.”

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. Those girls were seein’ an easy target. They thought you were a man they could distract and rob, and maybe have a little fun with along the way.

“I’m sure that’s it… lay down and shut up, will ya?” He shoved you back into the bed, and you groaned, your head hitting even the soft pillows was jarring, and you were sure you’d be feeling it tomorrow.

You figured you better do as you were told, with this situation feeling less ideal the more sober you got. Each minute passed by made you realize just how much shit you would be in with him once you woke up tomorrow. Still, you were drunk enough to start raking over all the earlier thoughts that lead you here in the first place.

“Arthur?”

“What?” He laid back on the other side of the bed, crossing his arms and trying to rest… but of course you weren’t done.

“Do you think I’d be better if I were a real man?”

“No, I do not.” He huffed, his tone flat and his motionless figure unchanging.

“Why?” You turned on your side to look at him, and boy, he looked handsome in this light. Barely illuminated through a window, but you could see the dark outline of his features.

“You’re just fine as a woman,” he claimed, still unchanging in position.

“But everyone hates me as one, they love when I’m him.” You liked being him, too. You were confident as Texas Red. Stronger, Faster. Braver…

“They don’t hate ya, they just have different ideas about ya… not that it’s right.” He thought that maybe you’d drop it from here, maybe pick it up another time when he was less tired, and you were more in your right mind.

“What are your ideas?”

“Huh?” He finally turned to face you, unsure of what you were even talking about.

“About me… what are your ideas?”

“Well… I happen to think you’re real strong, and smart. I think you’ve got gifts that even I don’t understand, and you’re good at using ‘em… I also think you’re a caring person, even when you shouldn’t be.” He listed only the things that came to mind, but he knew there were so many more that he was only not remembering.

“Those are all good things…” You supposed.

“Guess so,” he nodded, watching your face contort, as if you were debating on telling him something. You were still stone cold drunk, even if there was a hint of normalcy to you at this point. You wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow, of that he was sure.

“I think I love you, Mister Morgan,” you let out, looking at him, but not waiting for a reaction. Even in your tarnished state, you’d just wanted him to know what you were feeling.

“No you don’t, s’just the whiskey,” he argued, his whole body tensing up in fear of how to respond to this drunken revelation. Drunk words are sober thoughts. Everyone knows that.

“I do, I love ya more than anything,” you rambled on, completely entranced with the silhouette of him against the cool light of the moonlit windowsill.

“If you really do, you gotta tell me when you’re sobered up,” he instructed. He wanted it to be true, hell, he’d thought it might have been true when first arriving here… but the train job seemed to put you both at square one again, and he was getting tired of it. There was so much he wanted to say to you, but he couldn’t risk being wrong about you feeling the same way. He’s lost too much love in this life to blindly pursue it again. He was tired of getting his heart stomped on.

“I’ll tell you… Swear it,” you crossed your heart, giving him a doe eyed smile. “Do you love me?”

“I can’t tell you yet,” he shook his head, looking back up to the ceiling.

“But I told you…”

“I know, sweet girl… just be patient, alright? I’m gonna get there, promise.”

You nodded, turning on your own back and staring up at the ceiling, a single crack in the painted plaster going along the corner of it, keeping you distracted enough to stop thinking about Arthur and fall asleep next to him.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x you

96 notes · View notes

mimasroom2 · 6 months ago

Text

Bunny baby ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ♡

Ellie x reader w ptsd

𓂋

ʚ♡ɞ

I was inspired by @elliezlils11utt fic of Ellie x hypersexual reader and it reminded me I’ve always wanted to write some Ellie hcs that can help my ptsd :)

This is specifically with Jackson!ellie bc she’s my favorite :3

C/w: ptsd obviously. A bit of smut. Mostly fluff tho :3. Flashbacks. Intrusive memories. Triggers. MDNI 😒

W/c: ≈ 800

- It depends on how you guys met + how your relationship started,, but you’d definitely be super shy ab your trauma & ptsd and would avoid telling her as long as you can.

- When you finally tell her she’d be soooo sweet☹️. She’d sit you guys down on the couch and sit across from you criss cross applesauce style

- You wipe your tears away and laugh a little at how cute she is. Like why’d she have to go and sit like that ?!!

- You don’t feel nervous with her per se,,, but you feel kinda weird uncanny and naked (in a gross way) talking ab this, so most of the time when ur ranting you’ll focus on her eyebrow scar.

- You talk for as long as you want to and Ellie listens and nods and holds ur hand if u start crying ☹️☹️

- Surprisingly she doesn’t say anything like “whoever did this to you is gonna fuckin’ pay ‘mkay??” Because yknow….. she’s Ellie. She doesn’t want to rile you or herself up and make you uncomfortable >•<

- When you’re done explaining she’s gonna hug you and ask to kiss you. She’ll reassure you and say “Thank you for telling me baby. Now that I know I can try to help you in any way I can,, and I’ll stick by your side no matter what.” She giggles as she pulls you in closer :))))

- She’ll try to understand your triggers but sometimes it’s really hard for her to. ��Fuck I’m so sorry princess.. was it what I said or like.. the way I said it?”

- The truth is she LOVESSS cuddling and if you’re ever upset she knows it’ll for sure calm you down.

- Even if ur trauma isn’t related to sex she’d still be careful and sweet with you. Like,,, you’d have to BEG her to degrade you.

- “Els please… I know what im asking for I literally think it’s so hot when you do it🙁”

- “Angel idk if it’s really a good idea bc you had all those intrusive memories today..”

- “Ellie if you don’t degrade me I literally don’t think I will cum.”

- And then she perks up and yelps “ON IT!” 😭😭😭

- During the middle of it she’d literally stop and ruin it😭 “Yeah? You fuckin’ like these fingers huh babe? God such a fuckin’ slut for me..” she whispers in your ear”… heyyy is this like… still okay or? I dunno just seemed weird.” As you were like MOANING AND WHIMPERING

- You playfully smack her face “YES ELLIE please just- you don’t have to hold back!”

- Aftercare would be hugeeee for the both of you. Just in general Ellie really needs it but especially for you.

- “Jus’ don’t wanna hurt my princess after I’m done fucking your cute pussy” she looks down at you and you squeal for her to stop and cover your face with your hands.

- She laughs and rubs your back and starts talking casually about what her plans are for tomorrow.

- Sometimes you feel guilty that you’re taking up most of the attention in the relationship bc of your ptsd but she immediately interrupts your rambling and reassures you ♡

- If you have nightmares she’d wake you up and cuddle + distract you until you were tired enough to fall asleep again.

- Maybe if you were in the mood she’d distract you by eating you out 🤭

- If you ever felt uncomfortable or had a panic attack or flashback in public she’d take you home immediately even if it was inconvenient.

- “No babe.. what the fuck no.. it was not your fault okay. Getting scared is never your fault.” She tilts your chin up (,,•o•,,) “Let’s just try to calm down, yeah? That’s my girl.”

- Ellie hears ab service animals for ptsd and since Jackson really only has horses she managed to find you a BUNNY

- “Ellie how the fuck WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU FIND THIS BUNNY?!!,??.!.”

- “Don’t be scared babbbbbeeee I just got it somewhere okay?” She smiles all mischievous and lifts the brown bunny up. Its nose twitches.

- “Who’d you have to trade? WHAT did you trade actually??” Your eyes grow wide.

- “Jus’ got it from Tommy baby,,, no big deal.” She sits down on her knees to put it in the cage she got. “Found this cage jus’ lyin’ there. Asked around and nobody needed it.”

- After a few hours of playing with your new bunny you kiss her cheek in bed and whisper “Really, Els. Where’d the damn bunny come from.”

- “Really I already told you! Got it from Tommy… I was uh.. askin’ about like what he thought would be good for ptsd and he told me about a time where people would have dogs and other animals trained to help people. I dunno I thought it was cool.” She smiles sheepishly.

- You think that is the sweetest thing EVER because you thought she just finally wanted a pet for the two of you (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡

I’m actually gonna melt why do ppl never write sweet Ellie 😞💘

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fluff #fluff #tlou2 #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #ptsd #wlw #for the girls

260 notes · View notes

oh-stars · 11 months ago

Text

On a Limb

Love is saying "I love you" even when you're scared

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 2047 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

“You don’t even know if she likes girls,” Robin says, stacking the tapes with a little more force than necessary.

Steve swipes his hand along the counter, smearing the cleaner across the plastic-like surface. “It’s a gut instinct! And the boobies–”

“Don’t even start with the boobies,” Robin huffs. She turns completely away from him then, pushing the cart toward the stacks. Steve can’t see well enough with the lights dimmed, and thanks to corporate controlling the lights now, they turn off half at exactly closing time. Which means Robin reshelves and straightens up the stacks while Steve counts the tills (thanks to the counter having the most light left) and cleans the remainder of the store. It’s a win-win. It also means it’s easier for Robin to ignore him.

“C’mon,” Steve says, spraying the counter aggressively over a melted lollipop. “It’s a good theory!”

“A theory!” She practically shouts, turning on her heel to look at him. The tapes she’s holding knock into the shelves as she waves them about with her words. “It’s just a theory, Steve! I’m not about to become the town pariah over a theory!”

“Eddie says it’s not so bad being a pariah,” Steve adds. “People leave him alone and he can do whatever he wants–”

“You and I both know that’s a load of horse shit, Steve,” Robin says, and while he can’t see it clearly he knows the face she’s making at him. The one that tells him she’s had enough of the teasing and the games, that she knows Steve’s being an idiot on purpose right now. “He’s purposely hiding all the threats on his life from you, dingus.”

Steve pauses. Threats? He abandons the rag and pushes himself away from the counter to lean against the one closest to her, draping himself along the freshly cleaned surface. “He’s getting threats?”

He can hear the eyeroll. “Steve,” she says with the rest of her patience, “he’s been accused of murdering some of Hawkins’ brightest and starting a cult from the drama room in the high school. Do you really think that these ignorant assholes think he’s allowed to just walk around and coexist with their children? That they aren’t clutching their pearls and pointing their little witch fingers at him?”

Robin walks back up to the counter and mirrors him, faces too close. “He knows how much you want to protect him, so he’s keeping it from you so you don’t worry.”

“But I always worry,” he counters.

“I know this,” Robin says, “but I don’t think Eddie’s allowed himself to consider that he is, in fact, in your ‘inner circle’ as he put it.” She sighs and bumps their heads together like a cat. “You mean well, I know you do, but I can’t risk dealing with the consequences of people finding out on a hunch,” she whispers.

Steve presses his temple against hers. “It’s more than a hunch,” he promises. “I see the way she looks at you. Vickie turns into a completely different–”

Robin covers his hand with hers. “Stop. I love you, but I have to make this decision. This isn’t like you asking out a girl, it’s just not the same no matter how much you want it to be. And that’s not… It’s not something you can really understand until you’re experiencing it. I love how much you’re trying, it means a lot, but I need to do this on my own and until I find out she actually likes girls, I’m not doing anything.”

He listens, because of course he does, but he doesn’t stop thinking about it. As Robin goes back to the cart, shuffling the crinkling VHS boxes into alphabetical order, Steve finishes up at the counter. He can barely see her when he moves on to vacuuming, but it’s for the best. He doesn’t want to see her sad, accepting smile right now.

It just… it sucks watching her accept that she’ll never find love because Vickie had a boyfriend – who she dumped three months ago, mind you – and she can’t see how much Vickie is trying to catch her eye. Steve knows how to tell when someone is attracted to you, when they’re trying to get you to notice them or make a move and she’s doing all of it.

Just like Steve is with Eddie.

He hasn’t talked to Robin about… that development yet. It’s been something he’s been working through since spring break, the warm and fuzzies Eddie gives him. At first, he thought it was something to do with saving Eddie’s life, of almost losing him all together, but when those feelings only grew with each smoke session and long car rides… He had to come clean with himself.

It’s been months and Steve’s a mess trying to figure Eddie out, though.

Eddie’s as clingy as Steve is, they spend nearly all of their free time together, with Robin and Dustin mixed in there too. Eddie makes an effort to learn about Steve’s interests, whether it be learning the lyrics to his favorite albums, listening to the gossip Steve spouts (both local and from pop culture), or going as far as watching and, dare Steve say, playing the occasional game of basketball. And Steve is doing the same, mind you, listening to Eddie’s mixtapes and learning what different terminology means for music and D&D. They watch artsy horror movies and Steve’s reading more, even if it feels impossible, just so they have more to talk about.

At a certain point, it goes above and beyond normal friendship sacrifices.

Steve sees the way Eddie holds himself around Steve versus Robin, too. With Robin, he’ll touch and hang all over her with reckless abandon, while still being respectful, but with Steve, there’s always a little hesitation and tension with his movements. Like he’s waiting for Steve to react negatively.

There’s just… a wall between them, no matter how much Steve tries to tear it down.

And he has a feeling that the wall Eddie’s put up is a lot like his own, that blocks anyone from seeing how deep his feelings for Eddie really goes.

Steve looks over to where Robin’s made her way around most of the store. She looks sad, even as she bobs her head to something he can’t hear and her hands move deftly along the tapes. She’s lost in her head over Vickie, something she probably didn’t want to talk about and Steve had needled his way into the conversation. He just wants her to be happy, is all.

But how can he expect her to take a risk and put herself out there if he’s being a coward too?

He wraps the cord of the vacuum up as tightly as he can, tucking the machine back into the closet. There’s still more to clean but they’re opening tomorrow anyway, who cares if they didn’t dust the shelves for one night. “Robbie,” Steve calls softly.

She hums, not looking up from the foreign language movies she’s reorganizing.

Steve moves to sit beside her, knees overlapping. He can’t read the titles, wouldn’t be much help even with the lights, but he can keep her company until she’s done. “I think I know how you feel,” he says slowly, “because I feel that too. With, um.” He clears his throat.

Robin turns fully to him and in the dim light, Steve can see the way her eyes are bright with curiosity and her brow knits in confusion. “With?” she prompts softly.

“I love Eddie.” There’s no ‘I think’ or ‘maybe’ about it. He knows he loves him, and would do anything for him. No matter the risk. Steve just wants Eddie in his life and he has a feeling that Eddie, even if Steve’s totally wrong about sharing the same romantic feelings, would never hate him for having said feelings. But he’ll never know unless he does something about it.

“I love him, too–”

“No,” Steve says, taking Robin’s hand, “I’m in love with Eddie.”

He hears the little gasp she tries to conceal. “But he’s so muppety.”

“Like you have room to talk.”

“Yeah, but Tammy’s a Miss Piggy while Eddie’s a Fozzie Bear–”

“He’s not Fozzie!”

“Oh no, my apologies,” Robin says, sitting up as she puts a hand to her chest. “He’s like you stuffed Animal into Fozzie–”

Steve laughs, pushing at her shoulder. “Will you stop?”

Robin shrugs, but she’s just as giggly. “How long have you known?”

“I think for a while,” he admits, “but I wasn’t sure until a few weeks ago.”

She hums again as she takes his hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m scared,” he whispers, “but I also know I can’t… I can’t stand to live without him, but I need to tell him how I feel. I don’t want to harbor these feelings until I die.”

“Are you just saying this so I ask out Vickie?”

“Sort of.” He shrugs. “But I want this, too.”

Robin smiles at him.

They gather their things and head out of Family Video, with Robin locking the door behind them. “When are you telling him?” Robin asks as they climb into the Beemer.

“Tonight– Ow!” Steve rubs at his arm where Robin’s hand slapped at his bare skin. “The hell was that for?”

“You just came out to me, admitted you’re in love with Eddie Munson, and now you’re just going to walk over there and confess your feelings?”

Well. Yeah?

It must say it on his face since she throws her hands up and mumbles, “Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“Nothing!” she huffs. “I love you, Steve, but god, the unwavering confidence of a man is unfathomable.” Robin crosses her arms and slouches in her seat. She pouts until he turns on her street, then she pops up and turns to him. “You will report to me immediately tomorrow morning over pancakes with extra strawberries and whipped cream every single detail of how it goes down. Understood?”

“I could just call you tonight–”

“No,” she says, unbuckling, “you’ll be too busy swapping spit with Munson and I’m not staying up until you come up for air. We have to work in the morning and if we’re getting breakfast before, we have to be up extra early. And unlike you, I won’t have the lovey dovey high you’ll have tomorrow to get me through the slog.”

Steve can only laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

She pauses once she’s outside of the car and motions for him to roll down her window. He does, only for her to hug him through the space. “Call if it doesn’t go well, though. I’ll keep my window unlocked.”

“Love you, Rob.”

“Love you too, dingus.”

They say their goodbyes and then Steve’s off, driving to Forest Hills to do exactly that. It hits him as he parks outside of the trailer, watching Eddie’s shadow in the curtains, what he’s about to do. But Robin’s waiting on an answer and Steve wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t keep on like this.

He turns the ignition off and climbs out of the Beemer on shaky legs. He can do this.

Steve doesn’t get a chance to knock before Eddie’s popping his head out, grinning as he takes in Steve. Even though his stomach feels like it’s reached Vecna’s corpse in the Upside Down, his heart’s racing faster than a hummingbird as he meets Eddie’s eyes. This could go horribly, he could lose Eddie forever and he’ll be destined to live alone with only Robin as they escape from town to town like the FBI’s Most Wanted, never allowed to settle.

He takes in a deep breath and holds it.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, opening the door wider.

“I’m in love with you,” he says on his exhale. “I don’t need you to love me back, but I need you to know,” he adds just as breathless.

Eddie’s face falls for all of two seconds before his grin comes back twice as strong. He reaches out and grabs Steve by the shirt collar, dragging him in swiftly just to slam him against the door. Steve doesn’t get a chance to question if he’s about to be hit when Eddie’s lips are on his.

Thank you @lady-lostmind!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #ohstars posting challenge #platonic stobin #robin buckley

172 notes · View notes

bellarkeselection · 1 year ago

Text

Cross My Heart Promise

Gif belongs to @miyagiverse

Request from Wattpad Treassuredavis33 reader has cancer and is in the hospital while Cole is her boyfriend she tells him to promise her something on her almost deathbed.

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

The Walter family had been forced to remain in the living room by Cole’s request when I collapsed on our date out tonight. I tried to lie and say it was nothing but now there was no way of keeping it a secret. He would know sooner rather than later I suppose now. Laying in the hospital bed I had an iv in my left arm. My hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail done by my boyfriend. “Y/n, I finally got the doctors to let me see you. What’s wrong?”

Cole came into the room dragging a chair right up to my bedside where I could see true concern in his green eyes. “Cole, I’m fine. I just…how much did the doctors tell you?”

“Nothing. They said that they will only talk with your parents or relatives. So what exactly is going on?” He asked me running his fingers through his hair.

Laying my head further back against the pillow I sighed tiredly. For our date we went riding out on horses like we did on our first date. He was riding in front of me while I felt myself getting dizzy and I fell off my horse. “I should have told you before now. I just didn’t know how you would react or if I could handle telling you what is going on because it scares me really bad…” I felt tears falling down my face getting emotional over this.

Unfortunately at the age that I am the doctor found out that the cancer that my mother had was passed down to me. My hair had started thinning meaning that it would start falling out soon. “Hey, hey, don’t cry on me. Just tell me what’s going on and I can try to fix it.” He reached forward, wiping away tears that had fallen.

“You can’t fix what is going to happen, Cole. So I decided that we should just end things now before we get too involved with each other.” I admit avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head confused. “Why would we end things? I know I’m not good at the whole boyfriend thing but I don’t want to break up with you.”

“Cole, we really can’t afford to be together anymore. I’m not good for you -“ He cut me off climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed and holding my face in his hands so I’d look him in the eye.

“That’s ridiculous Y/n. If anything I am not good for you. I normally do hookups and commit with girls. Until I met you…I want a real relationship with you.”

Blinking through my eyes I sniffed. “You’d want to be with someone who has cancer?”

“That’s what you weren’t wanting to tell me. Why did you think you couldn’t tell me about something? That’s a big deal to have cancer.” Cole declared in a baffled tone,

Shaking my head I felt more tears coming down. “Be for real, Cole. You don’t want to date someone who has cancer. You’re the popular guy at school and could have anyone else. I understand that so I’m ending this so you don’t have to deal with all the stress later down the road.”

“What makes you think that I’d want to break up with you over that? I don’t care about my reputation. It's ridiculous to me that people don’t consider I might be more than the guy who sleeps around.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I’d want to be with you no matter what Y/n L/n.”

Placing my head against his chest he wrapped his arms around my waist. We let silence fill the hospital room. He had his whole family in the room and they had all been concerned since I had a relationship with each of them. Cole kissed my forehead hearing me sniffing through some more tears.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was just afraid you’d walk away from me.” I mumbled into his brown jacket clutching my fingers on his forearms.

Cole slightly pulled away from me and I saw some tears coming down his face too. “I’d never leave you because of your illness. I freaking have feelings for you so bad that I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I want to make you happy and everything else. So you’d never be just a hook up to me.”

“I can’t believe you’re sticking around for me, Cole. I….I want a real relationship with you too.” I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug and he hugged me back blinking away more tears.

A few minutes later he felt me draw away from him where he tilted his head downward to my gaze. “What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“Now that we talked about my situation there’s something I want to ask of you.” I trailed off and he nodded letting me keep talking. “I need you to promise me something important. I need you to promise me that you’ll be nice to Jackie if things get worse for me.”

Cole shakes his head not wanting to think about the worst happening. “Things aren’t going to get bad for us. Not while we are together.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about that. I don’t either but it is possible. So promise me, promise me that you will be nicer to her. She doesn’t deserve someone being mean to her after the trauma she has to deal with….so as your girlfriend I’m asking that you promise me this.” Squeezing his shoulder blades in my nails he didn’t waste a second in kissing me slowly.

I leaned into the kiss lightly smiling and he broke it whispering under his breath. “We’re gonna get through this, Y/n. But I do promise to be better around her for you.”

“Thank you, Cole. I appreciate it…” I smiled feeling him climb in on the other side of the bed once I scooted over. Cole wrapped his arms around me and I cling onto his embrace before we just let silence fill the room. Not wanting to talk about the struggles of me having cancer just yet. So we remained just holding onto one another for comfort.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#cole walter #cole x reader #cole walter x reader #noah lalonde #my life with the walter boys #mlwtwb #jackie howard #cancer #reader with cancer #ask box is open for anything #requests open #comments really appreciated #wattpad request #hospital #colewalteredit #horse ranch #promises

226 notes · View notes

scaredycatqlt · 8 months ago

Note

HII idk if your requests are still open but PLEASE can you do bojack/ mr peanutbutter dating head canons or any of your choice, the fandom needs more fanfics 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

awwWWW YEAH BABYYY. You already KNOW it’s gonna be toxic.

WARNING: Potentially triggering content. Nothing graphic, but talk of toxic/unhealthy relationships, questionable shit, BoJack being BoJack. SUPER MEGA FUCKING ANGST WARNING!!!

BoJack X Reader! Headcanons [ROMANTIC💔]

woah boy.

where do I even start with this guy?

okay, so, first things first; bad idea. What the absolute fuck were you thinking.

You probably have a fix-it mentality don’t you?

You’re probably the first person to talk to him. He either doesn’t care about you at first, or absolutely despises you.

chances are you are/were a fan of the show. (Eughhh,,,,)

If you weren’t he’s like ‘>:0’

It’s not really explicitly labeled as a romantic relationship. You guys probably hooked up before you even knew each other.

So being in this (more so situation-ship than anything) is toxic, to say the least.

He’s got a whole bunch of problems and he doesn’t want to ruin you to. But he ends up doing just that anyways.

He guilt trips you. I don’t even need to say that.

He rants to you about silly things that don’t even matter. It’s kind of endearing (if he weren’t a total piece of shit.)

He’s actually really good at making conversation. You two always have something to talk about.

He can’t believe someone as ‘not-him’ as you would ever waste your time with him. He explicitly tells you this at one point.

The red flags are BLARING GIRL.

In your defense, you really didn’t know how awful he was. You just thought he was a deeply flawed man. And he is, but he’s also just an ass.

*a horse

The relationship doesn’t last. It never does with him. Either you decide to cut it off because it’s too toxic, or he cuts it off. Probably in some drunken stupor.

typical BoJack.

Mr. Peanut butter X Reader! [ROMANTIC]

I’d like to start off by saying it would be much less toxic than a relationship with BoJack.

But still problematic…

Mr. Peanut butter and you knew eachother before you were dating, probably friends for a little while.

You two end up dating and the beginning of the relationship is idealistic and perfect!

But problems quickly arise.

like for example, Mr. Peanut butter is kind and friendly but he isn’t exactly considerate or caring. He may care about you, but he ignores your needs sometimes. More often by accident.

For example, if you don’t like people-you’re still not getting left out of parties. Mr PB is more sympathetic and much less empathetic.

His love language is gift giving and words of affirmation. I think this is made very clear throughout the show.

PREPARE TO BE FUCKING SPOILED WITH GIFTS!!!

Whether you like it or not….

He’s very open with people about your two’s relationship and how he feels about you. He’s quick to praise you.

aside from some of the inconsiderate mess he is literally a golden retriever boyfriend <3

he is VERY quick to ask you to marry him. But I feel like if you told him you’d think about it or ‘no’ he’d understand. It’s a big decision HE might be ready for, but you’re not.

Scratch his ears.

I feel like you’d date him at a point in time where Diane isn’t a problem anymore. He learned after the first time…,,,

Sometimes he puts his needs infront of yours-without realizing it.

If you want to have a serious conversation-you’re going to have to initiate it. He HATES those, and prefers to pretend like it never happened.

I feel like there’s honestly a chance of a long term relationship with him! Or you two break up like, maybe a year or so into the relationship.

sorry I haven’t responded to requests in, like, over a month. I’ve been kinda busyyyyfhhjjjgjg 😭

#headcanons #asks open #bojack horseman x reader #bojack horseman #mr peanutbutter #Bojack headcanons

81 notes · View notes

lucienarcheron · 4 months ago

Text

Moth to a Flame [ Eiris ]

@erisweekofficial day six - AU; Inspired by my mobster au for Eris x Iris. / Mob Boss Eris Vanserra gets an unexpected visit from his dream girl. / TW: abuse (off-screen but aftermath is mentioned).

Find all things Eris x Iris here. / Read on AO3! / divider by @tsunami-of-tears

“You have a visitor.”

Eris glanced up from the paperwork in his hand to find his infuriating brother, Finn leaning against the doorway with a smile he didn’t trust.

He narrowed his eyes. “And who might that be?”

“Someone who has been avoiding you at all costs.” his brother said with that stupid grin and Eris lifted a brow.

“There are many people who fall into that category,” he said dryly. “Especially when they owe me money.”

Finn snorted. “No, dumbass. It’s a girl.” His brother wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Your dream girl.”

Ah. Iris.

Eris Vanserra had been on the market, searching for a wife who would benefit rather than hinder his operations. Every girl from a decent family that he would’ve been able to use was either a simpering weakling or so over the top he’d wanted to put her down like a lame horse. He needed someone level-headed. Someone who would understand what it meant to be a mobster’s wife.

Someone who wasn’t afraid of him.

Iris Bertillon had been at one of the social events of the families and they had somehow ended up in front of one another. Five minutes into their conversation, she’d poured her drink on him. In public. In front of everyone in the room.

All because he’d offered to fuck her. She’d been so tense! Eris had thought it the gentlemanly thing to do. And yet…she had poured her drink right on his head and had only given him a look of disgust, stating, “I’d rather die than let a piece of shit like you touch me.”

It turned him on every time he thought about it. If Eris believed in such a thing, he’d call it love at first fight.

Before her father could lay a hand on her, apologizing profusely for his daughter’s behavior, Eris had already given the order for his brother Emil to pass along: No one was allowed to touch her. He had claimed her, whether she liked it or not.

Despite that, Iris refused him at every turn. She returned his gifts. She’d either argue everything he said or sit in complete silence. Until of course, she couldn’t hold back on insulting him. To fight with him.

People wondered how she’d gotten away with being like this considering Eris Vanserra had a reputation. But all the commotion she caused him did nothing but spur him on. She was indeed his dream girl. She was his.

It didn’t matter that she denied it. Everyone knew who she belonged to and Eris couldn’t wait until she finally caved and he claimed her as thoroughly as he wanted to.

At the present moment, Eris didn’t allow himself an outward reaction to Finn’s declaration. His annoying brother would only be obnoxious about it. No, he would not grant his brother the satisfaction of knowing how his pulse had begun to race at the idea of Iris coming to him after going out of her way to avoid him for so long. He merely blinked at his brother. “Is she here with her father?”

Finn’s smirk widened, crossing his arms. “No. Given how she’s dressed, it seems she has snuck out to see you.”

Eris’s brows furrowed and he turned to his computer, clicking until the security cameras popped up. Indeed, there she was, making her way into the estate. On foot.

“Why isn’t she in a car?”

“That’s why I don’t think she’s supposed to be here. Otherwise, why come on foot?” Finn replied. “Considering how badly Bertillon wants her to suck your dick to get our influence, he would definitely make a show of dragging her to your doorstep.”

“Bertillon can die. I have no interest in him.” Eris said, watching Iris’s every move on the cameras. “He will give me whatever I want whether I marry his daughter or not.”

“But you will marry his daughter, right?” Finn said with that annoying smirk. “Even if she doesn’t want you?”

Eris glanced back at his brother. “Grant her access to my front door and be sure no one stops her. No one is to interrupt us.”

“You got it,” he said with a salute. “But listen, I know you’ve been pent up for a while so make sure you don’t embarrass yourself by ending the session too quickly. We can’t have your reputation in shambles because of a limp dick.”

Eris shot his brother a look of disdain. “You have a second to fuck off or I’m shooting you in the leg.”

But Finn only laughed, waving Eris off and then shutting the office door behind him. Eris’s focus went back to the security camera, again following Iris’s every move.

Immediately, Eris knew something was off. For someone as prideful as she was, Iris was walking with her head down. He zoomed in on his screen, narrowing his eyes. Something about her walk was different.

She had to be here for a reason. She had come to him.

He stood, his eyes never leaving the screen as Iris kept walking towards his front doors. Eris slowly straightened his dress shirt and adjusted his suspenders, grabbing the gun on his desk and sticking it back in its holster. He wasn’t sure why he felt a buzz under his skin.

Was it excitement? Was he nervous? That would be preposterous. Eris Vanserra hadn’t been nervous in years.

He made his way out of his office, his three pups lifting their heads as he passed the living room and made his way towards the front door. Eris had a feeling this interaction was going to change something for him. She wouldn’t show up like this for nothing.

She knocked on the door right as he reached it and Eris paused for a breath, running a hand through his hair, smoothing it back.

His dream girl was at his door. She had come to him.

The thought made the corner of his mouth curl up into his signature smirk as he opened his door and found her standing before him.

But his smirk slowly fell from his face the longer Eris glanced at her.

Iris stood before him in a long coat that seemed to purposefully hide whatever she was wearing beneath it. Though the chilly air of October was upon them, something about the way she stood wasn’t sitting right with him.

It was as though her legs were shaking.

He leaned against his doorframe, his eyes taking her in. “Well, well, well,” he said calmly. “I see my little gazelle has found her way to me.”

She said nothing but Eris watched her hands curl into fists at her side and he let a moment of silence pass between them, his pulse thumping.

Something was not right.

Where was the girl who nearly wanted to rip his head off every time she saw him? Who had thrown a dinner knife at him once?

He pursed his lips and straightened, opening his door wider. “I thought you said you’d never let yourself stoop low enough to visit me?” he teased. “That you wouldn’t be caught dead coming to my hell of a prison?”

Silence filled the space between them and Eris’s brows furrowed again when her fists began to shake and every fiber in his body went on full alert. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

It took another minute before he finally heard her take a breath and slowly, as if it pained her to do so, Iris lifted her head and Eris’s head went silent.

Her face…her beautiful face was peppered in bruises. A cut on her lip, another near her eyebrow. Handprints bruising her throat.

But her eyes remained locked on his, her bottom lip trembling violently as she blinked rapidly, and Eris knew she was trying not to cry in front of him.

Her face was flushed and he sensed both anger and embarrassment to be seen like this by him but Iris swallowed hard, working her jaw until she finally whispered, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Heat surged through his body as his gaze hardened and his grip on the doorframe tightened hard enough that the door creaked. “Who?” he spat.

He watched as she swallowed again, her gaze dropping to her feet and then back at him. “My father.”

Eris’s lip curled in anger. “Why.”

The word came out as a demand but Iris didn’t flinch. She only blinked rapidly, her eyes locked on his, as if he was the one anchoring her to this moment, and licked her lips before answering. “He wanted to offer me to someone else and I said no.”

“Did he, now.”

Iris managed a nod and Eris watched her fight back a wince as she straightened. “You still want to marry me, yes?”

“Without a shred of doubt, little gazelle.”

Iris nodded again, quickly wiping at a stray tear that had managed to slip and Eris knew he would relish in killing her father. He would tear that piece of shit limb by limb and hang him for all to see.

Slipping a hand into her coat pocket, Iris pulled out a flash drive and handed it to him. “This is everything you need to make the transfer of all his assets easier.” She said, lifting her chin. “I’ll consider his death my wedding gift.”

Eris’s answering smirk was nothing short of deadly as he took a step back and gestured with his hand to come in. “Then welcome home, Iris.”

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra fanfic #eris x oc #erisweek2024 #gfics #smtb #eiris #mobster aus are my favorite :)#this is iris's mobster wife villain origin story lmao #eiris mobster au

48 notes · View notes

shadowsingerofnight · 9 months ago

Text

So um, to be honest I don’t know what this is. It was on a whim, written in one go so don’t take it too seriously lol

It was inspired by this post right here, by @dawntoducks

Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the door slamming shut brought Elain back to reality.

Standing in the middle of the sitting-room, she glanced to the window, to the city beyond. Velaris was in full bloom, children running and laughing just outside. She could even spot some kites flying this and that way, guided by tiny, giggling kids.

She had always thought kites to belong in fairytales, somehow never considered actually playing with one. She marvelled at them.

She kept watching- stalling, as one little girl accidentally bumped into the big magnolia tree outside the gate and let go of the slim thread she was holding. A cry sounded, the girl immediately getting up and jumping towards the sky. Desperately trying to reach high, high, higher- like the hurt didn’t matter, like she just wanted to get back what she had lost. But it was too late.

Elain blinked. Once. Twice.

Her heart began racing, the rhythm akin a horse’s gallop. Frantic, but with purpose.

It was always like that, her soul recognising a song she sometimes could faintly hear herself. A poem that had existed within her since the dawn of time, somehow.

“Are you okay?”

Somewhere among the blooming trees…

Elain had never heard a voice like that. Not when she was human, not after. Non since she had heard his for the first time. A voice so stark and yet warm. So deep and yet melodious.

She could feel it, tingling on her skin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, still not looking at him.

Outside, on a magic wind, the girl’s kite flew right back in her arms. Elain smiled faintly.

“I… felt something,” he replied. “Like you were calling for me.”

She was? Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised her. Elain still didn’t quite understand how this whole thing worked. But could he actually feel when she was thinking about him?

It was quite a lot.

“That’s why I thought you were in danger.” He went on, “I assumed it was the only way you could call for help.” His tone was low, steady. Like he didn’t want to scare her away.

Because I know it wouldn’t be me you’d call if you could help it.

She hated that he didn’t understand. She hated that she could not bring herself to tell him the truth, how his smile was the first thing she saw in the morning. That his laugh sounded in her ears with every step she took. That his hands were what she imagined when she… Red stained her cheeks.

She hadn’t yet looked at him, but she could just see his head dip to the side as if wondering what she was thinking about. Or rather, was she really thinking about what he suspected?

At the top of the tallest mountain…

“Elain,” he whispered and then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Elain furrowed her brows, but her chin remained dipped.

He sighed unevenly and then spat, voice higher, “I’m sorry the Cauldron made me your mate. I’m sorry I’m so abhorrent you can’t even look at me. Just tell me you’re fine and I’ll go.” His arms slackened at his sides. Defeated.

Elain’s head snapped towards him then. Her eyes met one of russet and one of gold, like the brightest of suns on a fall day. She saw the tears first, the same ones she could feel marking her own cheeks.

In the depths of all the seas…

“You-,” she sniffed. “You stupid, stupid prick.”

She saw his eyes widen the instant she closed the distance between them and pointed an accusatory finger to his chest.

“You know nothing!” She yelled. Actually yelled.

Elain wiped some of the tears away, but they kept coming like an overflowing river. Feelings buried so deep came afloat.

“Don’t you understand I can’t look at you?” She demanded more than asked.

“How can you not see I’m burning?” Her index finger kept poking his chest of its own volition while his face had paled alarmingly. He was looking down at her, tears glistening in the light.

On a journey so certain…

“You think I don’t feel anything”? Elain sniffed again. “Well, you’re so terribly wrong! I feel so much every time I look at you, I don’t know what to do.” Words were flowing and she didn’t even have to think them.

“You live with me every second of every day. You render me useless every time I think of you because all I want is to touch you and kiss you and hold you and never let go.”

He caught her wrist and flattened her hand above his heart. It was beating so fast.

“I want you, Lucien.” She could feel him tremble underneath her palm, just when he closed his eyes as to savour her words. “I just don’t want to burn you.”

Lucien smiled, so sweet and wicked at the same time, eyes so full of hope she cursed herself for not telling him sooner. “Didn’t you hear?” He whispered, his breath caressing her neck. “I’m the Lord of Flames.”

I search for light and I find you.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sarah j maas #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucien fic

78 notes · View notes

aloneatpeace · 7 months ago

Text

Cosmic Chaos

Chapter 21

Stiles gets out of his jeep and speed walks towards you “hopefully your filed trip ended because we got a lot to catch up.” He doesn’t wait for you to say anything taking your hands in his he starts to pull towards his jeep.

“Stiles wait!”

Sam and dean also straighten up “yeah hold your horses buddy.” Dean says

Stiles turn to them with a lost look on his face “sorry, we have really really urgent matters to discuss.”

You sigh grabbing on to his arms halting him his place “Stiles they know.” stiles head whips towards you he leans towards you his forehead touching yours as he whispers.

“What you mean, like know what we know, are we talking about the same thing.” Stile’s frown “how did you get that?” he points at the dried blood and now freshly formed scar on forehead of yours.

You lift your point finger and lightly pushes stiles face away from yours “yeah, they’re hunters. I’m fine it’s nothing.”

Stiles nod in understanding before exploding with loud yell that make you and the Winchester brothers to wince at the loudness of his voice, stiles arms wrap around yours and inches away from the brothers his eyes trained on the brothers with a glare that made the eldest Winchester to sigh in annoyance. “What do you want her?”

“Stiles, they are good one, grams introduced me to them, we even went to wendigo hunt.” You speak up breaking away from his grip. Though stiles still have his hands on you.

“What?”

“Yeah, we killed the wendigo you don’t have to worry about that.” sam says with hoping to calm your friend.

Stiles eyes sparkled a smile break into his face he pushes you away “There is dead body here, a wendigos dead body.!”

Sam and dean glance at each other the sudden shift of mood of the male in front of them maybe be sam shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“that’s so sick, can I see?” stiles turn to you “why didn’t you bring we with you. wait do they know about your?” stiles vigorously motion his hands.

“No, stiles, yes, they know about me. And behave new people remember.” Your shoulders slumping stiles nod before turning.

“Hi, I’m stiles her best friend” he eagerly smiles at Winchester brothers his hands out to shake it sam and dean shake stiles hands warily, introducing themselves respectively.

Sam and dean nod “if you need anything just give us a call” the oldest Winchester says “Your grams have our number.” The younger Winchester added.

“Now that you guys know, who the alpha is be more cautious” Sam suggested taking his hands out of his pockets.

"I will, you guys are professionals. We could use your help."

“Yeah, I’ll text too.” Stiles said.Dean close his eyes “please don’t” he mutters.

“How much do you know about supernatural creatures?” stiles continue.

“They know more than we know stiles, it’s their family business.”

Stiles mouth forms into ‘o’ shape “like the Argents.?”

Dean shrug “Kind of but it just the two few of us and we know how to hunt almost everything.”

“That’s amazing” stiles had wide smile on his face and his eyes shining.

“I can see why the two of you are best friends” dean whispers under his breath in amusement.

“We should get going now, stiles?”

Stile’s nod “Yeah, we need to get to scott fill him in on everything.”

“It was nice meeting you two, you both are amazing.” You smiled glancing back and forth between the Winchester brothers.

Dean grin at you “glad you think so sweetheart, wouldn’t want a pretty girl to think badly about me” he dismisses Sam’s bitch face.

“You’re shameless, dean Winchester” you tease nudging his side.

“I think I’m adorable” he quickly recounter smiling when he sees you smile as well “all jokes aside call us when you need us.” He adds.

You nod and turns to sam “Are you guys going straight to the next hunt?”

Sam nod “We aren’t injured badly so I think we can take them down.” Dean nod at Sam’s words. An apathic look on your face has sam sigh “Don’t beat up your self for what happened back there.” opening his arms Sam smile at you before wrapping his arms around you leaning down to meet you. “Take care of yourself.”

He pulls away with squeeze “you too” you say after giving the brothers final glance you leave pulling stiles away towards the jeep.

Sam smile at you watching you and stiles leave while dean lean against his impala with content expression.

“that’s a cool car by the way” stiles yell making dean smirk in pride.

“Do you think derek’s going to be alright?” you ask as stiles starts the jeep

He shrugs “yeah no I don’t think we can get rid of him that easily.”

“Stiles.”

“fine”

You and stiles run through school hallway searching for scott on the way recounting about your encounter with a wendigo.

“So, the three of you get yeeted in air by that thing and you can heal people.” stiles theorized you hums in agreement. Stiles falls silent when danny comes out of boy’s locker room.

“Where did the two of you went?” he asks “you missed the game and you didn’t even come.” He said looking at you waiting for explanation.

Stiles roll his eyes “She had an appointment with her gynecologist, is scott in there.” He asked hurriedly.

“Don’t try to fool with her vagina, her ass scared to get go anywhere near a gynecologist after watching jane the virgin.” Danny remarked.

You gasp in horror at their banter.

“Is that what you two talk about all the time?” stiles blurred with a confused look on his face finding scott long forgotten.

“Okey, what the fuck is wrong is you two. Don’t talk to me for two to four businesses days.” You roughly push stiles and danny away entering the locker room.

Scoot stands up from the bench with towel around his waist, he probably heard your conversation, sighing you sit down “Not a word” you say before scott can ask you is that where you really went.

He nods before leaning towards you sniffing the air around you “I smell blood, gunpowder and cheeseburgers”

You back away “dude put some clothes on before you do that” you point at his naked chest “Yeah, a lot happened.”

Stiles comes in and sit down next you “did you really mean that.”

“Yeah, now shush stiles.”

“Peter hale is the alpha” you said without waiting any minute scott eyes widen at the he turns towards you and stiles.

“What?”

Stile nod before nonchalantly adding “and derek might be actually dead right now?”

“Wait, what?”

Stiles side eyes at scott “say something other than what.”

“Ha? Wait... hold on does that mean.” Scott trails off.

You cross your legs over the other “yep, he killed his niece to become an alpha also in order to regain his strength from being half burned and now probably on his way collect his beta which you and kill us all.”

“This couldn’t get any worse.” Stiles remarked.

“You know me very well don’t you” a husky voice commented from the dark the and a shadow of comes into your vision scott strengthen up and stiles gulp recognizing the voice scotting closer towards you.

“I really don't get lacrosse... When I was in high school, we played basketball. There's a real sport. Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes, and that they played it to resolve conflict. Do I have that right?” he takes the lacrosse stick looking over it. “Hmm... I have a little conflict of me own to resolve, Scott... But I need your help to do it.”

“I'm not helping you kill people.” scott firmly states stalking towards peter without a fear as you and stiles watch the exchange from behind scott.

“Well, I don't want to kill all of them-- just the responsible ones. And that doesn't have to include...”

“Allison.” With a sigh derek step out the dark he doesn’t glance at the two of you his eyes fixed on scott though he can feel your disappointed glance.

“Why is he alive?” stiles whisper into your ears making derek close his eyes but he doesn’t turn towards the both you.

Scott looked incredulously at derek “You're on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?”

“It was a mistake...” derek mumble making the three of you stands shellshocked how easily derek sided with peter dismissing the fact his sister killer.

“What?” the three of you says in sync

“It happens...”

“Is he for real?” stiles mumble again.

Peter glance at two of you before turning to scott “Scott, I think you're getting the wrong impression of us. We just really want to help you reach your full potential.”

“By killing my friends?” he said scoffing at peter ridiculous reasoning

“Not all of them” peter eyes fall on you making you tilt your head at him with watchful gaze on him stiles gulps holding on to your hands while scoot and derek throw suspicions glance at peter “Sometimes the people closest to you can be the ones holding you back the most.”

“If they're holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut-job like you, I'm okay with that.”

“Maybe... you could try and see things from my perspective...” peter lunch towards scott with his claws out you yell at scott moving towards him but derek grab on you.

“He just wants to show scott what happened to us.” Derek said holding the two of you back from getting hurt from peter or you interpreting peter he’s not sure.

Peter dug his claws into the back of scott’s neck, scott wither his legs gives out, you glare at derek “let go now” derek look down at you before he knows he’s getting thrown across the locker room.

The red glow swirl around in your palm scott grunt in pain peter sticking his claws deep into his skin “hands off”.

Derek grunt from where he’s thrown in and before he can stand peter joins him wincing in pain, his claws had retread back to normal. “I forgot how painful it is.”

“Shut up”

You crouch down next scott stiles joins beside you with worried eyes his hands shaking your hands get bloody when you cup his neck scott wince, a green glow emits around your palm and scott relax he blinks his tears away “you alright?” panting he nods at you.

Stiles and you pull scott to sit up on the ground, peter and derek stands up walking towards the three of you.

Peter calls your name “I have no intention to hurt innocents, I was merely showing him what happened.”

“Oh really, then what about the Laura or the janitor. What did they do?” you taunted livid with his actions “and what about my friends that you’re planning to kill, how that you killing all argents is reasonable?”

Peter clench his jaw before compressing himself he crouches down your level and gives you a strained smile. “Did you know that they were humans were also burned to death in that fire, children they were innocents, and let me tell you the Argents are far from that. They are killers.”

“What happened to you two was wrong but that doesn’t give you pass to kill us. You already killed those who are part of it the whole Argent family is not the reason.” You argued stiles behind you tug your arms seeing how your words made both hales to look murderous.

“Didn’t Chris Argent threated to kill you, scott? didn’t he even shoot you one time.?” peter ponder looking at scoot who glare at him.

“Chris Argent is innocent it wasn’t him it- “you stop in midway, derek and peter caught your words as they look at you with narrowed eye.

The three-werewolf glance at the hallway, peter stands up “Seems like we have to cut this short.” He dusts himself off “you’re my beta scott like it or not we are bounded together.”

The three of sits on the ground “dude we are fucked.” Stiles mumbles

“Trust me…I know.”

The next morning you and lydia and Allison meet up at the grill, sipping on the beverages that you all ordered for yourself.

“So, Halloween party coming up do you guys have your costumes readied?” you ask putting down your ring.

“what’s the point I planned to do couple costume and jackson dumbed over text.” Lydia crosses her arms over chest.

“Right.” you hum “did he actually do that? Why all of sudden though.”

“Jackson gone nuts. What else.”

“Don’t be sad, you can wear the sluttiest thing now look on the Brightside” you smirk at her shaking her hands she slowly breaks into a smile

“Jackson gonna wish he didn’t break up with me”

“that’s the spirt and this is Allison first Halloween here. What are you going to be.?” You continue

Allison bites her lips “maybe huntress?” she shyly says.

“Any specific reasons why?” you fidget with your straw waiting for allison’s answer.

“Nothing really, my ancestors were hunters who hunted down beast like werewolf and stuff.” She answers.

“Then you can be witch.” Lydia said looking at you. “Since you know obvious reasons.”

You shake your head “bonnie is the witch this year.” You take a sip of your drink “I’ll figure out something, you two should go together, make jackson and scott jealous or some shit.”

Allison tucks her hair behind her ears “jackson said he will go with for the party.” She admits “that is if you're okay with it” she glances at lydia.

“Did he?” lydia did good job masking her anger with her false clam face but you sense her anger and sadness sweep out of her.”

“Uh-huh. Just as friends. But I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it, first.”

Lydia hesitantly nod “Sure. As long as it's just friends.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like I would take him to the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything...” Allison said cooly that you almost choked on your drink.

Lydia sits anxiously unable to form words, you sigh at two “You know, you two should work out that, I’m gonna go.”

On cue your phone rings stiles Id showing you stands up “you know girls should stick together a girl friend is so better than million boyfriends I’m not saying you shouldn’t go out or anything, just stick together alright and call me if you guys need anything.”

You stand behind table and bring them into hug “You guys are too pretty for any of them” you press loud kiss on both of their cheeks before leaving.

“So, what do we do with jackson??” stiles ask from the drivers seat the three of had been following jackson for good minute.

“Well, since he wants the bite and he already threatened scott to get him bite he’s not going to listen to us.” You say sitting between scott and stiles.

“I say we let get bite and be haunted by the Argents.” Stiles offers frowning when you raise your eyebrow at him “what it’s not like I’m gonna miss him or something.”

“We will talk to him first, there is nothings else we can do to change his mind, we are lucky jackson doesn’t knows about your powers.” Scott said with looking out the window.

“Scott you can’t save everyone.” You stated making scott glance at you the words seem to make him anxious. “If jackson goes to derek or peter, they will turn him and we can’t do nothing about it.”

Scott and stiles eyes nervously regard what you said “Well let’s hope, he doesn’t meet them.” stiles weakly offer with strained smile.

Jackson gets out his car slamming it shut loudly in empty parking lot he doesn’t trust scott help him get a bite seems like he needs to find a way to get it himself with a sigh he leans against his car look at his watch he takes out his phone ready call tow truck.

A black SUV pulls up in front of him and Chris Argent get out the driver seat with smile making jackson falter “Car trouble?”

“It's okay. I'm just gonna call a tow truck.” Jackson waves his phone nervously as Chris starts to gets gears to take look at Jackson’s car to see what caused the trouble.

Chris smile at jackson opening the hood of the car “Oh, I know a few things about cars. Could be something simple.”

“I don't know... I mean, it's a pretty expensive car, and they pull all this warranty crap if you do your own repairs, right?”

Chris smirks at the boys attempts to get him leave him alone “Well, I won't tell if you won't.” Chris went to the back of the car “It's Jackson, right? Come here. I'll show you what to look for.” Jackson knowing there is no way to escape and not make him look more suspicious than he already does walks towards Chris hesitantly. When looking down Chirs sees Jackson’s scratch his back of his neck, he lowers Jackson’s collar to see it more clearly

“Oh, sorry!” Chris says when jackson gets startled by him

“What?” his voice came out Shakey

“Your neck. You hurt yourself?” Chris asks with frown on his lips catching jackson eyes nervously shifting avoiding looking at his eyes.

Jackson evasively says “No. I mean, it's just-just a scratch.”

“Well, it looks like more than a scratch. Kinda looks like claw marks.” Chris makes jackson look at with unblinking focused eye contact makes jackson more nervous “You all, right?”

“Yeah. Look, I'm just gonna call for a tow truck, okay?” jackson dismiss his words ready to dial the number and get away from Chris Argent.

“Is there any reason you're so reluctant to tell me what it was that did that?” Chris Argents friendly smile long gone the whole façade turning into that of serious one jackson grip on his phone tighten.

Just then a loud honk catches their attention when a blue jeep comes stopping in front of them stiles throw his hands out waving at jackson “What's up?”

“Is everything okay?” scott asks innocently

you ask poking your head out and wave at Chris Argent he nods at you

“Hey, Scott. Your friend here was just having car trouble. We're just taking a look.”

“There's a shop right down the street. I'm sure they have a tow truck.” Scott says as Chris Argent goes back to check the car again

“Yeah. You want a ride?” stiles asks but jackson hesitate considering his options. You push scott back lightly leaning towards to look at jackson.

“Come on in, jackson.” You nod at jackson looking at him in the eyes he nods back

“Hey, come on, Jackson-- you're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself.” Stiles lazily encourage him from the driver’s seat.

You motion him to come closer jackson compiles moving towards them just as Chris shut the hood “Hey, boys?” he comes to Jackson’s driver side and turns the key the car roar into life “Told you I knew a few things about cars.”

Scott had already got out of the car as Chris Argent makes way to his car you get out the car “Mr. Argent can you drop me off on your way, the boys said they wanna catch up on yesterday’s games.” You turn to them “isn’t that right guys.” You mouth them to say yes and they silently nod.

Chris Argent held your gaze with calculating look before nodding you bid your friends by good bye before getting in Chris Argent’s car.

Series masterlist

51 notes · View notes

sunnyhvnny · 2 years ago

Note

Can I request something dark where Daemon forces himself on the reader so that she will have to marry him.

I don’t know why this took so long but I was seriously drawing up blanks until now.

In The Lands of Gods and Monsters || Daemon x OC!Fem read on ao3

TW: Non-con, breeding, choking

She had felt the prince’s eyes on her ever since her father let him into their castle. She hadn’t been told why the prince had come to visit the Lord of Riverrun and she knew it was would be seen as impolite to ask so she only sat by her father’s side as he tried to make the prince feel welcome.

It was two days before the prince had stopped beating around the bush and had asked her father for her hand in marriage. She vaguely remembered that he had a wife of his own who sadly passed away after falling from her horse. That happened a little over a year ago and she wondered why her. She knew she had flowered and grown into a beautiful young woman over the past couple of years but surely there had to be stunning ladies in King’s Landing and at court. Her brother said as much when he came back from a visit.

She wasn’t even set to inherit Riverrun. Her brother was and he was already married with a son. She couldn’t think of any reason as to why a Targaryen prince, the only brother to the king, would want her as a wife. However, she couldn’t claim to understand the family that ruled over Westeros. They were a complete mystery to her.

“Prince Daemon, while it is an honor for a man of your standing to take such an interest in my daughter, I must decline your offer of marriage,” her father said and she could swear she saw something ugly pass over the prince’s face at being denied something he wanted. “You see, my daughter is already betrothed. She has been promised to the heir of House Glover since she was a child and they are to be wed next Spring.”

The prince nodded respectfully and when he raised his head to meet her eyes to wish her all the happiness with her betrothal it felt as if her heart dropped into her stomach. There was something in his lilac eyes that didn’t match his words. They tracked her every movement like she was his prey and he was a predator hungry for his next meal.

She pushed that thought away. Perhaps it was just her unease with the Targaryens. It wasn’t right to think the worst of them just because of what she thought of the family as a whole.

She was excused for the rest of the talks between her father and the prince and was only summoned back when it was time for supper. Her whole family was there plus the prince who seemed out of place amongst her close-knit family. While she picked at her venison and her nephew babbled on about how his mother took him down to the river to watch the fish, she was acutely aware of the unwavering gaze of the prince. He had yet to look anywhere else but at her and it almost felt like a dare for her to look up and meet his eyes but she wouldn’t. She refused.

When her mother nudged her thigh with her own, she knew that she was being rude and that it was showing but she didn’t care. She wanted the prince to leave as soon as possible and preferably without any pleasantries from her. She had heard stories about him. How he would go to the brothels in King’s Landing and buy girl’s maidenheads. She had also heard of rumors about him visiting noble houses in the Realm and enjoying the company of the daughters and servants of that house. She had dismissed that as pure rumor until a friend of hers from House Mormont birthed a baby with silver hair. It didn’t matter if her husband claimed the child as his own, everyone knew it was a Targaryen that had sired that child.

She counted down the minutes until she could politely be excused from supper and when she hit that marker in her head, she asked her father, not her mother, if she could be excused. He waved her off with a goodnight and she tried not to look like she was fleeing. Although, she was. The prince might not mean to do anything but it didn’t stop the horrid feeling that he might. She wanted to be tucked safely behind the doors to her chambers with her guards posted out there before the prince left the table.

Once she was back in her room, she took a much-needed breath. Her doors were shut tightly behind her and the guards, her father's men, stood outside like always.

She dug out a long-sleeved nightgown, one she didn’t often wear because of how high the neck was but she reasoned she would only wear it for that night until the dread in her gut went away.

It didn’t take her long to dress in her nightgown and when she climbed into her bed she quickly found comfort amongst her blankets and before she knew it she was falling asleep.

The sleep was dreamless and short. She couldn’t tell what woke her but when she blinked open her eyes it was still dark and the sun was clearly far from rising. Through the haze of sleepiness, she wasn’t aware of another person in her room but when she felt a warm hand grazes against the apex of her thigh, she jumped and suddenly she was wide awake.

To her right sat Daemon Targaryen without his tunic and a cruel smirk on his lips. His hand hadn’t moved from between her thighs and when she made to scramble away from him he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her flush against him. He was faster and much stronger than she was and her heart was beating so fast it felt as though it might leap out of her chest.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” he said quietly into her ear. His breath caressed her neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She shivered at his words. How long had he been in her room? How long had he been playing with her unconscious body? Her room was supposed to be guarded. Where were her-

As calmly as she could she asked, “where are my guards, Daemon?”

He chuckled lowly and she could t tell if it was menacing because he meant it to be or if it was because of his grip on her. “Guards will do anything a prince tells them to if they are given enough coin. Right now, I’d wager they’re in the kitchen trying to get the kitchen maids to wet their cocks.”

Her breathing stuttered at his words. Her father's men, the men that were meant to protect her, just left her. Surely they had to know what Daemon would do.

“Don’t worry, dear,” this time his lips tickle her earlobes as he speaks. His one hand is still cupping her sex and she’s trying her best to ignore it. “It won’t be so bad. I just have to do something to convince your father to wed you to me.”

He grinds against her bottom with every word and despite him wearing breeches and her nightgown being in the way, she can still feel his hardness. She can’t stop the tears that start to run down her face or the gasping sobs she lets out. She doesn’t know what possesses her to ask but she does, “how are you going to convince my father to allow you to marry me? I am already promised to another and my father’s word is not a fickle thing.”

With ease he flips her around so she is laying on her back, staring up at him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that frighten her.

“Oh, I know,” he says. The bitterness in his voice is as plain as day but it doesn’t stop him from moving the hand that cupped her to come up and palm one of her breasts. It isn’t pleasant. It’s rough and he squeezes too hard and when she whimpers he only smirks. “Your father is a stubborn man but I think if I take his precious daughter's maidenhead he’ll have to marry you to me.”

Those are the words that finally make her kick at him. It doesn’t take him long to recover from her surprise kick but it is long enough for her to almost make it out of her large bed and run away, but instead, he grabs her by the ankle and with a growl tugs her to him. He waists no time in ripping her modest nightgown apart. She tries to scream but he covers her mouth with his large calloused hand while outside his red dragon, the blood wyrm, roars, and screeches, as if to cover up the sounds of his rider's sin.

While the dragon’s roars frighten her, the man leaning over her and untying his breeches frightens her more. She doesn’t stop her wiggling and fighting despite the fact that it only seems like a minor inconvenience to the prince. She doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about the fact that she is bare before him because his cock is now out and she can see for herself the length and hardness of it.

She makes one more valiant attempt to get away as he pulls his breeches completely off but his hand comes down hard across her face leaving her momentarily stunned. She has to blink to tears and spots out of her eyes. Her cheek stings but she doesn’t have time to worry about that as his hand that hit her comes down to wrap around her throat.

Her whimpers and cries are cut off with a tight squeeze. She can only watch as he lines his large cock up to her entrance. She doesn’t know much about coupling. Her mother was going to teach her before her wedding but she heard enough from her friends that she knows her own arousal and wetness should help him ease into her. However, she isn’t wet, only afraid. So when he slides into her with one quick hard thrust her scream is cut off at her throat.

He leans down to kiss her cheek. The one he hit and then he leans down to kiss both of her breasts. She wants to shield herself but she’s pushing at his chest weakly. Her strength is slowly leaving her as he pulls out and thrusts back in with the same harshness.

“Don’t worry, once we’re married I’ll focus on your pleasure but right now I need to fuck and breed you.” He says breathlessly as he starts a brutal pace. She cries out again only for her sounds to be drowned out by the dragon outside. “You’re father can’t say no to me if there is a possibility you might be carrying my babe.”

She closes her eyes hard. She doesn’t want to look at the man above her. The prince of the realm who so many people lusted after, who was now using her as if she was no better than a common whore. She tried to ignore the pain but she couldn’t. It was too sharp and she couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face and hitting the sheets below her.

She heard a grunt come from above her as he thrust particularly hard. The next thing she knew her leg was being lifted so that her knee was touching her chest. The new angle allowed his cock to hit deeper in her. A moan left her lips as he hit a sweet spot inside of her. His face felt warm from embarrassment and she just knew that the prince was smirking down at her now.

“So you do like it?” he groaned as he continued to hit that spot inside of her. Soon the pain morphed into pleasure and she clenched her cunt in an effort to stop herself from being aroused. The prince choked out a moan when she did so and fastened his pace. “See, this doesn’t have to be all that bad. Just let yourself enjoy it.”

She shook her head as best as she could with his tight grip around her throat. She didn’t care if she was starting to get wet or if she felt a pleasant tingle from his thrusts. She wouldn’t give him this satisfaction.

When he stopped talking, she noticed the noises that filled the room. It was the noises of skin slapping together and her own wetness being pounded into as groans and stifled moans echoed throughout her room.

Soon his thrusts turned sloppy. He leaned down to take her breast in his mouth again and bit down hard as he groaned. Hen tensed above her and less than a second later he was spilling his seed inside of her.

He detached his mouth from her with a pop and finally, she opened her eyes. His eyes bore down into hers as he continued to rut into her. His cock was softening but she knew what he was doing. He was pushing his seed deeper into her in hopes that it might take root and a babe would come out of it.

“I can’t wait to see you all nice and round as my child grows inside of you,” his words were accompanied by his rubbing a hand over her lower abdomen. She felt so tired and sore. All she wanted was for him to leave so she could curl up and go to sleep. “Your tits will be huge. Perfect to feed our child. You won’t be empty for long, though, don’t worry. As soon as I can I’ll put another babe in you.”

She could only sniffle at his words. When he took his hand off of her throat she wanted to scream and call for help but it felt so bruised and she was so exhausted that she found herself slowly drifting off.

Just before sleep overcame her, she felt fingers prodding at her opening. “I suppose I could take you one more time before I show this to your father.”

She never knew if he did anything else to her because sleep came for her instantly.

The next morning she woke up alone. She swung her head from side to side to look for the prince but did not find him. She had hoped for a brief second that it was all some sort of depraved dream before her body finally caught up with her mind. She felt sore all over and when she brought her hand down to the apex of her thigh, her fingers pulled away covered in blood and a white creamy substance that she knew was the prince’s seed.

It didn’t take long for a servant to come knocking at her door to let her know that her father wanted to see her. She only nodded and didn’t dare to look at the servant as she helped her dress.

She found her father quickly. He was sitting on the ancestral chair of their house with the silver-haired Targaryen prince before him. When she stepped up to her father she chanced a glance at the prince and saw a triumphant grin on his face. It was only then that she noticed her father holding her nightgown from last night. It was torn and bloody and she had no doubt that the prince had told him some version of what he did to his daughter.

Her father asked her no questions and instead informed her that a raven was sent earlier that morning to House Glover to inform them that the union between the two houses could not happen for his daughter was to marry prince Daemon. When she opened her mouth to protest her father held a hand up to silence her and told her that before the week was over she would wed the prince to protect her virtue and that she would leave for King’s Landing when he left.

She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to say something to defend herself but couldn’t find the words. Her friend was right, she supposed, no one could win against a Targaryen when they wanted something.

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen #tw: noncon #tw: breeding

1K notes · View notes

lxstfathier · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! This is my first time requesting something so sorry if it's weird or something.

But moving on I was wonder if I could request super southern s/o like she's from Texas has a heavy accent rides bulls in rodeos just pretty much a cowgirl reader for task force 141 + Alejandro please and thank you!

Omg nooo, it’s not weird, i think it’s cute. So i did a few headcanons for you anon. I don’t know much about rodeos but i hope i got it right lol, hope you like it! 💗

Cowgirl

Task Force 141 + Alejandro x Reader

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Simon Riley

♡ He never thought he would be attracted to a cowgirl, cuz country girls were never his type, but he fell for you no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

♡ They don’t have rodeos in the uk, so obviously you had to explain everything to him when you became a couple.

♡ Simon thinks that you should be really crazy to ride those dangerous bulls, and if it were for him, he would make you quit. But he knows it’s your passion, so he supports you as long as nothing bad happens.

♡ If he can, he will go with you to the rodeos, helping you to get ready and then watching you ride, standing at the in-gate, hoping that everything goes well.

♡ And if you are the best rider of the night, he would definitely shower you in praises, giving you a big hug and maybe even some flowers that he bought at the fair.

Johnny Mactavish

♡ He kinda knows what rodeos are, so when you tell him you are a bull rider he thinks that’s the coolest thing ever.

♡ He’s kinda extreme too, so he begs you to teach him how to ride a bull, just for fun.

♡ Johnny absolutely loves parading you around, telling everyone that his pretty girlfriend is also a very skilled cowgirl.

♡ He texts you everyday after your daily trainings to see how you did.

♡ You both have very thick accents, so every time you speak together, having a fast conversation, no one can understand what you’re saying.

♡ He watches you ride every time he can, sitting on the stands, cheering for you while he eats popcorn.

Kyle Garrick

♡ He fell in love with you the moment he saw you riding one of those bulls as if it was something easy.

♡ He calls you “my little cowgirl”.

♡ A very supportive boyfriend. He loves going with you to the rodeos every time he can, helping you with everything and giving you a quick kiss before you ride.

♡ Most of the time he watches you from the stands, but sometimes he gets distracted and then you find him petting the horses.

♡ If you are the best rider of the night, Kyle takes a lot of pics and posts them on his instagram.

John Price

♡ He doesn’t like it at all. He thinks it’s really dangerous and that one of those beasts is gonna kill you one day.

♡ But he knows you’re not gonna quit just for him, so he tries to be supportive, letting you do it as long as you don’t get hurt.

♡ Deep down he loves seeing you wear the typical cowgirl outfit. He thinks you look super sexy in it.

♡ Everyone thinks you’re an odd couple. Cuz it’s really weird to see an english military captain with a country texan girl, who would have thought you’d be a match?

♡ If he can go to see you ride at a rodeo, (which is rare because he’s always busy) he will just watch from the in-gate, contemplating every movement while he talks with your trainer.

♡ At some point John tries to convince you to switch to barrel races, but then it backfires when you tell him that now you wanna do both.

Alejandro Vargas

♡ He’s the most supportive out of them all.

♡ He grew up in a little town in Las Almas, always seeing the colorful fairs with jaripeos, which is basically the mexican version of rodeos, so he knew exactly what you were into.

♡ He fell hard for you, captivated by your beauty and your skills to ride those animals.

♡ If you marry him, he’d definitely buy you a nice house in the outskirts of Las Almas, with lots of land for you to have as many horses and bulls as you want.

♡ Alejandro loves horses, that’s obvious, so he buys a percheron just to ride for fun while you are doing your daily trainings with the bulls.

♡ He sits with your family almost every time he goes to the rodeos to watch you ride, cheering loudly for you. And your parents love him, there’s no doubt in that.

♡ If you are the best rider of the night, he hugs you really tight while telling you that he’s really proud of you.

#call of duty fanfic #alejandro vargas x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cod fanfic #simon riley fanfic #Alejandro Vargas fanfic

346 notes · View notes

pikapeppa · 4 months ago

Text

A transcript of Solas's involvement in Vows & Vengeance: Episode 1

As the title says: I transcribed the scene between Solas, Nadia, and Elio in the first ep of the Vows & Vengeance podcast, for fic and meta reasons for anyone who wants it!

Of note: some of the closed captions for the video are not accurate to the actual audio recording. One particular significant instance of this is highlighted in the transcript below. I also added a little bit of context for clarification purposes.

This transcript covers the portion of the podcast from 31:26 - 40:04.

See below the cut!

[Elio and Nadia are riding through the Silent Plains. They are on the run from Tevinter. Nadia’s horse whinnies in fear.]

Nadia: Whoa, whoa! What’s got you spooked, girl?

Elio: Probably just that ominous-looking chap in the road just ahead. Is that your guy?

Nadia: I’m not sure. Hood’s up. I can’t see his face.

Elio: Think he’s safe?

Nadia: Let’s go find out. Keep an eye for bandits just in case.

[They approach the ominous-looking chap.]

Nadia: You! Stranger! Do you know of Olen?

Solis: Nadia, I presume. I am Solas. And I am, I believe, the one that you seek.

Nadia: you have the gold?

Solas: If that is what matters most to you.

Nadia: It’s what matters to the world.

Solas: Perhaps.

[clinking of coins.]

Nadia: Looks good to me. Elio, give him the Eye.* (* The Eye of Kethisca — the magical relic that Nadia stole from Arcanist Hall in the Archives at Minrathous)

Elio [whispering]: Are you sure about this?

Nadia: What other choice do we have?

Elio [sigh]: One moment.

[Magical humming. Elio and Nadia gasp.]

Solas: Steady yourselves. There is nothing to fear from this relic.

Nadia: You didn’t see what this thing did back in Minrathous. Unleashed a wave of energy or something. Tore the ground up, almost killed Elio!

Solas [chuckle]: I will demonstrate. Ar dirthan’as ir elgara. Ma’sula e’var vhenan.

[Magical humming subsides.]

Elio: How did you do that?

Solas: The Eye was made from a rare gem mined in the caves beneath us. It was crafted centuries ago by a powerful Dreamer.

Eloi: So… it’s connected to the Fade?

Solas: Do you feel a connection to the Fade, Magister?

Elio: You know who I am?

Solas: Among other things. I know you well.

Nadia: [sharply] What is this? What — what game are you playing?

Solas: I do not play games. But if you seek answers, then come.

[The sound of footsteps moving through rocky debris. They are entering a cave.]

Nadia: Maybe we should turn back. This cave has a dark energy. I don’t like it.

Solas: Energy is neither dark nor light. It is just energy. And it is not the cave responsible for what you feel. It is the Fade. The Veil is fragile here.

Elio: I can feel it.

Solas: What about the Eye? Can you feel that, too?

Nadia: You said you had answers about what happened. Tell us.

Solas [sigh]: I suspect that when Elio summoned his magic* back on those docks, he unknowingly formed a bond with the Eye, and it amplified his powers. (* Elio used Stone Fist: a spell from the Rift Mage subclass in Inquisition)

[The sound of scuffling footsteps, and a blade unsheathing.]

Nadia: [to Solas] You better choose your next words very carefully.

Elio: What are you doing?!

Nadia: We never said it was at the docks.

Solas: [calmly] Kindly remove your blade from my neck.

Nadia: You start talking. I’ll decide if I move it.

Solas: Do you think the threat of a knife brings truth?

Nadia: The knife is just a promise.

Elio: Nadia, put it down.

Nadia [sigh]: Fine.

[She sheathes the blade.]

Solas: I heard word that the Venatori had plans for the Eye. I hired Olen to retrieve the relic before that could happen.

[A sound like wind whistling in the background.]

Elio: Why would you do that?

Solas: Because they do not understand its power. Or yours, Magister.

Elio: Mine?

Solas: There are things in motion that neither of you can fully grasp. And it is up to me to ensure that we arrive at the best possible outcome. But in order for that to happen, yes: I will need your help.

Elio: Why me?

Solas: Because you are a powerful Rift Mage, and your bloodline is tied to this relic. The Dreamer that forged the Eye bore the name of An’Dante.* (* Elio’s full name is Elio Andante.)

Elio: My family created it?

Nadia: it was no accident that Olen hired me, was it?

Solas: You’re sharper than you let on.

Nadia: It’s a gift.

Solas: It’s a frailty. [gently]

Elio: I was told* that the Eye would end the world, not mend it. (* By Neve Gallus)

Solas: Some people confuse a reckoning as an ending.

Elio: So you seek reform?

Solas: I seek… regeneration.

Nadia: I’ve heard enough of this dreck. Let’s go, Elio. Elio!

Elio: I’ll do it.

Nadia: Um, can I speak to you for a moment?

[Footsteps as they step away a bit.]

Nadia: [scoff] Are you crazy? There is no way we can trust this guy!

Elio: I understand your concern, but my purpose in the Magisterium was to help the people. To invoke change. I can’t do that now. That life is over. This could be my last chance to make a difference. And to find out the Eye was born by my ancestor’s hand? I… I have to do this. it was fated.

Nadia: [sigh] Why must you be so noble?

Elio: We are who we are, my love.

[Nadia sighs. They return to Solas. Magical humming/ringing; it sounds like they are in a large cavern. Some breezy-echoing sounds.]

Nadia: What is this place?

Solas: An ancient chamber. Once home to unspeakable acts. Many were sacrificed on these grounds, and the blood that was spilled weakened the barriers between our worlds.

Elio: And the Eye will help us fix that?

[Ambient whispering sounds. Almost sound like voices. Inaudible/incomprehensible.]

Solas: More or less.

[Clinking sound; Solas seems to be working.]

Nadia: And you’re sure this is safe?

Solas: As safe as we make it.

Nadia [sigh]: I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Elio: Would it help if I told you that ring around your neck is imbued with a protective spell?

Nadia: Maybe. Is it?

Elio: Mm. Maybe.

[Nadia chuckles.]

[Ongoing magic humming sound; incomprehensible/inaudible ambient whispers.]

Solas: The relic is ready. Prepare your mind. Begin.

Solas and Elio chanting together in Elvhen: Heruamin litirien. Alai uethri maeria. Halurocon yalei nam bahna. Dolin nereba maome…

Nadia [sounds afraid] Guys? Guys, this does not feel right.

Solas: Silence, please.

Solas and Elio chanting together in Elvhen: Ame amin. Halai lothi amin. Aloamin Heruamin. Heruamin oh lonai. Imwe naine beriole…

[There is rumbling in the background, rocks breaking, cave crumbling.]

Nadia: Elio! Elio, I really don’t like this! Elio!

Elio: It’s working, Nadia! I can feel it!

Solas and Elio, chanting loudly together in Elvhen: Ame amin! Halai lothi amin! Aloamin Heruamin! Aloamin Heruamin! Aloamin Heruamin!

[Ongoing sound of cave crumbling. Nadia is crying out in fear. Then Elio starts groaning.]

Nadia: Elio!

Elio: Solas, something is wrong!

Solas: Keep your focus.

Elio: Solas, please! We must stop!

Solas: Keep your mind steady!

Elio: Argh! I… feel something. A presence!* (* this is significantly different from the closed caption, but my transcription is correct.)

Nadia: Solas, you have to stop this!

Solas: This is all to be expected. Remain firm.

Elio: [straining, groaning] I can’t… Hold on!

[Ongoing cave-crumbling sounds. Nadia crying out in fear.]

Solas: If you let go now, the Eye will explode!

Nadia: Elio!

Elio: I’m here!

Nadia: Where?

[Elio screams. The cave collapses.]

Nadia: [screaming] Elio! Elio!

Solas: [voice sounds distant] We must flee. We must flee! Now! [cries out in pain/effort] Hurry! [cries out]

Nadia: Elio! [voice echoing weirdly.]

Solas: [voice echoing weirdly] Nadia, here! Take my hand.

Nadia: Save Elio!

Solas: He has crossed over.

Nadia: Elio!

Solas: We must escape! I’m sorry!

[Nadia grunts. Ambient sounds return to normal, no longer weirdly echoing. No more cave-crumbling sounds; silence. Shortly after, there is the sound of gusting wind rustling through grass, the horse whinnying; it appears that Nadia has emerged from the cave, or what was left of it.]

Nadia: [groaning] Elio? Elio, are you there? Elio? Solas! Hello? [yelling, crying out in despair] No!

#solas #vows and vengeance #vows & vengeance #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #da:tv #da:v #vows and vengeance spoilers #dragon age spoilers

43 notes · View notes

bcolfanfic · 10 months ago

Note

Hiii!!! to take your mind to kinder and softer things: any headcannons on josies first birthday with clegan?? will her uncles and aunts come by with truly threatrical gifts that sends buck and buckys eye twitching? will she demand to be carried around by her uncle croz and never be put down for a second? will there be some godawful birthday games that leaves her uncle curt a trip to the er because a game of pin the tail on the donkey is supremely misunderstood? will there be a quieter celebration during the nights bedtime where bucky brushes back her hair and sings happy birthday softly and buck uncharacteristically plays air guitar bc hes ever so freely playful in front of his two favorite people?

i hope everything goes well for you today and tomorrow!! sending love your way ♥️

she’s just a girl living in wyoming, of course it’s horse themed.

gale and bucky have to put it (in bold) on the invitations they send out to the guys that under no circumstances are they to get her a horse, please.

demarco texts bucky and asks on a scale of 1-10 how mad he’d actually be if someone you know- hypothetically,

an 11. we are renting one that will go back to it’s horse house at the end of the day, so don’t worry about making up for us depriving our child.

this is the first real birthday celebration she’s ever had which makes gale emotional in the lead up when they’re talking about it and she doesn’t really get it.

he gets that- he never really had birthday parties growing up either. getting to do different by his little daughter makes his heart warm.

she has a few little friends from school there but it is mostly the guys and their various families that came into town for the the festivities. and josie kinda ditches her little school friends for them, whoops.

especially her moon and sun and stars uncle crosby.

has a little moment where she gets jealous of the attention he’s giving to his youngest who is just shy of a year old. and matter o-factly informs him it’s not that baby’s birthday, ‘s mine 😾

sweet thing she thinks the baby is cute and all just wants uncle crosby to herself. croz hands the baby off, and josie is quick to park herself in his arms before he can change his mind.

she’s absolutely big enough to walk, but it’s her birthday and she’s cute so uncle crosby does haul her around all day.

rosie rosenthal STUNS with a new talking customized pop up card of himself

he even provides him own replacement batteries this time, and gale tells him they ought to throw them away but he knows they won’t.

the guys spoil that girl rotten, and if it’s with some of the noisiest toys produced in the united states then well, so be it.

kenny is one of the few that doesn’t go the noisy toys route- he gets them a membership at a local children’s museum. and writes bucky his own card that makes him tear up.

because kenny remembers the bucky he saw spiraling overseas and that he spent years and tears so worried about. and now he’s here- and he just wants his buddy to know how proud of him he is.

curt doesn’t wind up in the ER but there is a little bit of a near miss when he gets lost in the haze and whacks his good leg with the piñata stick

sweet josie gets so worried, curt laughing through the pain when he hears her ask if they’re gonna have to cut that one off too (it’s just bruised, but she’s five and doesn’t really understand the one that had to get amputated was a little more injured)

gonna decide that gale plays the guitar in this au because why not. he picked it up after he came home from the war just to learn a new skill.

him sitting on the floor against josie’s bed playing it for her at bedtime while bucky sits in her little princess bed singing to her in his arms.

both guys get a little teary eyed- for more than one reason. because their baby is growing up, they can’t help but wish she was with them for her first four birthdays and because the road to get to where they are now singing their little daughter to sleep was long. especially for bucky.

but they made it to the good life damnit. 🩵

#young vets au #buck x bucky #clegan #josie egan

64 notes · View notes

starlight-starwrites · 2 years ago

Text

a real bed

arthur morgan x female reader

summary: You’re tired. Arthur’s been gone. When he leaves you to spend another night alone, he works to make it up to you and show you exactly what you deserve. wc: 3.4k warnings: TB-doesn’t-exist au, some light/non-graphic smut note: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @margowritesthings! I loved the princess treatment prompt, I hope this is full of the fluff (and smut) you were looking for! thank you to @rdrevents for hosting the valentine gift exchange!

“Carrots are done,” you slide the last of the vegetables into the pot and wipe your hands on your apron.

Pearson grunts, and you accept it as the most you’ll get for a thank you. “Stew is going to be light on the meat again. Where is that man of yours?”

“He’s not…my man.” You don’t look at him when you say it, heat flaring in your face at the words. You know who he refers to, but you and Arthur still felt new. It was no secret, you admit, and after years of pining it was nice to have your affections returned. But as you fill a pail of water for the girls’ washing up, craning your neck to look over the short bridge to Shady Belle, you can see Arthur’s horse is still missing. “I don’t know where he is.”

He’d left yesterday evening after a short visit and even shorter dinner. Things were rough for the gang, but you felt it was always the roughest for Arthur. He surprised you leaving so soon after returning, and when you asked if he wouldn’t stay for the night he only smiled and said you could have the bed to yourself like you would enjoy it. You kept your mouth shut. Kissed him goodbye. Watched him ride away and disappear into the trees.

Pearson calls your attention back. “He hasn’t been hunting much.”

“Arthur’s been hunting as often as he can. He always brings back something,” you snap. You rub at your raw hands, the filled pail pushing the metal handle into your skin.

“Brings back more than most,” Pearson backtracks as soon as he hears your tone. You understand his frustration - hungry people don’t treat the camp cook too kindly - but you won’t let him blame Arthur.

You take a second pail and dip it in the water barrel to fill that one too. “If you need meat, send out Bill. He’s been sitting on his ass all day.” You stare at the man currently sitting at the table sharpening a knife.

“Bill can’t hunt for shit.”

“I can hear you,” Bill looks up with a scowl that might have made you afraid once.

“Then maybe he should practice.” The look you shoot him fixes him to his seat as you storm from both of the men, pail in each hand.

You’re tired of hearing excuses for people. Tired of feeling like only a few are doing the work for everyone. Tired of how the humid heat of Lemoyne dampens your dress with sweat. Tired of wearing boots that have long outworn their use. And tired of hearing Miss Grimshaw’s grating voice from all the way across camp.

The girls seem to catch on your sour mood and don’t say a word as you drop the buckets of water and silently take the wet clothes to the line. You pin up shirts and sheets along side Mary Beth thinking about another lonely night and how you would kill for a chance to sleep in a real bed, tucked in Arthur’s arms.

It’s a nice daydream that carries you through the chore so that by the time you return to the front of the house and see Arthur hitching his horse to the post, your first reaction is elated relief. He spots you first, pace picking up as he approaches. He doesn’t make it before he’s waylaid by Pearson.

“Mr. Morgan! Good to see you. Camp provisions have been looking a little light recently, think you can restock?”

You want to throw something at him.

Arthur barely grunts before he’s ruffling through his satchel. “It ain’t much right now, but…” he pulls out a few cuts of meat. You think maybe rabbit. “Here. See if you can’t do something with this.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan! I’ll try and get this in the stew for tonight.”

You stand at Arthur’s side, once again impressed that no matter what, he always has something. You lift a hand to touch his arm when he speaks again.

“See that you do. I’ve got somewhere to be, so you’ll have fewer mouths to feed.”

Pearson’s already off to prepare the rest of dinner, but Arthur’s words strike your heart.

“What? You’re leaving again?”

He watches your hand draw back, your face fall. He nods. “We’re going out into Saint Denis tonight.”

You swallow, look at the ground. Of course. Work never ends. “Who’s goin’ with you?” At least you hope it’s someone you trust. Someone like Hosea, or Charles, or—

“You,” he says, like it was obvious. “We’re going out to the city.”

It’s the second shock of the night. “What? Arthur, I don’t really think I’m up for a job right now. It’s been a long day, and you’ve only just got back—”

His laugh is low, and his hands hold you by your upper arms. “It’s not for a job.” His hands move up and down your arms, comforting and pulling you closer.

“Got an errand to run and then…dinner. I got us a room.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. The dream from earlier suddenly feels possible. You grasp his forearms as he holds you. “A room? With a real bed?” He nods, eyes still smiling down at you. He looks as tired as you feel, and you take hold of his lapels. “Yeah, princess. With a real bed.” His hands slide over your back in an embrace. It eases something in you, the stress of camp, of surviving, of watching him leave. You don’t think about how your feet hurt or how rough your hands are. You think of this, being in Arthur’s arms, that reassuring feeling that no matter how bad things are, he still takes care of you.

You don’t have to think about it, you were ready to go as soon as he said the word ‘room’. You’re glued to his side as he walks you back to his horse, and you let him lift you up to the saddle. A trip to town for a night off sounds like heaven, but there is one thing you’re curious about as Arthur mounts up behind you.

“What exactly is the errand?”

You don’t know what you were expecting. Perhaps shopping for supplies, an exchange where Arthur sold some goods. Things that you had seen before. The building looks like a green house, the front filled with gorgeous ferns and flowers. Your eyes are drawn to the ceiling fan above as Arthur ushers you in, the fading sunlight filtering in through the glass casting shadows on figures and hats and frames lining the walls. An ecstatic and slightly accented voice pulls you from your observations.

“Ah, Tacitus! I am so glad to see you. And you, my dear, you must be Mrs. Kilgore, it is an absolute delight to finally meet you!” he takes a breath to lift and kiss your hand. The man barely gives you a moment to open your mouth, already talking a mile a minute. Though Arthur had told you his name is Algernon Wasp and to expect your alias, the eccentric seems so excited he all but forgot to introduce himself.

There is a dress, and it’s a wonder you’re here, and the corset gave him such trouble to make, but he is absolutely thrilled with how it turned out, and how do you like it, but oh, you can’t really say that it’s beautiful if you haven’t tried it on, and he really needs a model to know for certain it’s finished, and yes, yes it has to be you…

In any case, being stuffed into a strange man’s corset by Arthur in the back of green house is not exactly the sort of errand you had expected.

Algernon admits that the dress was not made entirely by him, but he really is the true artist behind it. The corset itself is cream, embroidered with flowers and embellishments in a deep navy blue to match the heavy skirts. He talks from the other side of the curtain while you direct Arthur on how to properly lace the corset. Both of your voices are low, movements slow. His hands linger where they can, and too often you find yourself leaning back into him. You can feel the warmth of his palm despite the layers fabric, and when he finally ties the ends, you hold his hands where they rest on your hips.

You don’t know why you’re here, wearing this dress that is worth more money than you’ve ever owned at once, but if Arthur wanted you here for the silly friend of his who rambled about duchesses, baronesses, and contessas then you would be here, looking like you could fit right in with them.

“How goes it? Please tell me you haven’t torn anything, Tacitus.” Algernon’s voice breaks you from the moment, and Arthur’s hands slide away. You pull back the curtain, taking in the dress once again. “Oh a muse indeed! You are perfect, would you look at that. What do you think?”

“Well, I…it’s gorgeous.” You can hardly take your eyes off it. The bodice has the finest stitching you’ve ever seen, the skirt like silk beneath your fingers. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“Why, it’s yours!”

You shoot a quick glance behind you to catch Arthur’s eye, thinking that perhaps when he had said the man was cracked he wasn’t exaggerating. But Arthur never meets your eye, his own gaze fixed on the clinch of the corset around your waist.

“I’m…not sure I can afford this…”

“Nonsense! Your husband has already covered it. In fact this is my payment for the favors he’s done me. I have never worked without a model before, but when I saw you, I just couldn’t say no!”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” you say in confusion.

This time Arthur does meet your eye, and you can see he’s bashful.

“Of course not, my dear! I mean the pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“No, no. You’re right. Pictures hardly do them justice. The drawings, illustrations of pure emotion. I’ve never thought of sketch work to be so…moving. But these! Your husband is quite the artist!”

“Oh, I know,” and you think of what sketches he has of you in that journal of his that he would show this man. In hopes that he would make something for you. Something so fine you fear you may never have an opportunity to wear it again. Algernon is back to rambling about art, but you only hold Arthur’s stare in the mirror.

“Oh, but I know how busy you both must be! Please, don’t let me keep you again. I am no longer sorry to see the garment go when I see just how exquisite you look. Enjoy your evening! As always, it was a pleasure!”

And you find yourselves back outside, slightly stunned on the doorstep.

“Well. I believe I promised you dinner.” Arthur offers you his arm, and you easily lace your own through his.

“I believe you promised me more than dinner. Though I have to say I did not expect the new dress,” you quip. You tug on him a bit as you walk your way to the saloon where Arthur reserved your room and speak sincerely. “Thank you, darling. You didn’t…have to go to such trouble for me.”

“I know trouble. Trust me, this ain’t it.” He drops the teasing for a moment to look at you, and answer just as sincerely. “You look beautiful.” You feel warm, and not from the Saint Denis weather. “Besides, you’re not the only one who’s going to play dress-up.”

You let out a sound of delight. “You still have the suit Josiah picked out?”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur sounds none too pleased, “I still have it.”

“Arthur Morgan,” you sigh, “you really know how to treat a lady.”

On your way in to return to your room, you barely had a moment to look around and appreciate the finer details. Now, you lean into Arthur’s side as he speaks to the bartender and take in the establishment. The Bastille Saloon is still a saloon, but the patrons are dressed as finely as you are now, the furniture made of quality. You don’t see broken glass on the floor or scuffs made from idle knives and rowdy brawls. The tables have tablecloths. The piano is a grand one. The couple next to you are speaking French.

“And whatever the lady wants.”

You blink in attention, and turn to face the gentleman behind the bar. He’s wearing a tie. “Oh…I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” you say to Arthur.

You like the way his lips curve into a smile; it’s a crooked thing, and you may have once thought it teasing, but now you notice he’s fond by the crinkle of his eyes, he’s pleased by the way he leans toward you. Your arms hold tighter to the crook of his elbow, shocked at how just a hot bath and fancy clothing can change both your demeanors entirely.

Tonight you really were a distinguished lady, on the arm of the man you love. You never doubted Arthur to be a gentleman, but you still giggle when he pulls out the chair for you. He takes the seat next you, not across, and you scooch closer.

“Are you sure there isn’t some job?” you lean in to ask with a smile. You wouldn’t mind it if there was, so taken up with the dress, with the restaurant, with Arthur.

“No, darlin’, there’s no job.” He takes your subtle accusation in stride, leaning in and setting a gentle hand on your knee. “Why? You want there to be one?”

“No. Just don’t get why you’re doing this, is all.” You don’t want to sound ungrateful. Or suspicious. Your hand covers his under the table, aware of the impropriety, but too happy to care.

His eyes soften and fingers curl around yours. “Because you deserve it. Because you…deserve better.” The words are unspoken, but you know what he’s saying. He believes you deserve better than living with outlaws, than a campsite that moves every few weeks, than an old rickety cot and Pearson’s stew. He believes you deserve better than him.

You shake your head slowly, not looking away from his eyes. “You know what I want.” It’s a whisper, a spoken promise that you feel the same. No, you don’t want to live in a camp of outlaws for the rest of your life. But you’re sticking with him until the both of you can get out. Find what you want. A real bed. A home. A life.

Arthur looks like he’s about to respond when two plates are set down before you, and you gasp. He ordered prime rib with healthy helping of some of the best looking potatoes you’ve ever seen. You don’t think a meal has ever smelled so good in your life.

“Christ alive.”

Arthur laughs at your shocked reaction.

“What? I don’t think I’ve seen a steak this big.”

“You help prepare food with Pearson all the time,” his voice is a drawl, amused and pleased you’re impressed, and he doesn’t hesitate to start cutting into his meal.

“Not like this.” You know you’re staring, but you don’t even know where to start. “Arthur…if you just wanted to get me in bed, you know you don’t have to do all this.” Your words are crass, but you try to keep it to a hush. His treatment of you this afternoon has got you thinking of one thing, and quite frankly, you are very much looking forward to getting him back upstairs.

The way he chokes on his first bite is worth it. “Now I ain’t uhh…You know, well, um.” He gives up to plead with you. “Princess.”

You laugh at his stammering, put your hand on his knee. “Don’t you start. Because you did promise me dinner, and I intend on absolutely polishing off everything, and I expect you to do the same. And then, and only then, am I going to drag you upstairs and make very good use of that bed. No matter how many princesses, sweethearts, or darlings you use.”

And maybe the two of you are sitting too close that you keep bumping elbows, and no matter how finely you dress you still don’t quite fit in with the upper class, but you’ve never shared a finer meal someone.

And you’ve never seen Arthur eat so fast.

When Arthur took you to the room upon arrival in Saint Denis, the first thing you did was flop to the bed. It was large and well made with thick blankets and would fit two people comfortably.

Now that you finished dinner and are retiring for the night, you don’t even make it there. Your back is pressed to the closed door, Arthur’s mouth covering yours before pressing hot kisses down your neck, across your chest, and over the tops of your breasts pushed up by the corset. You tug mercilessly at the suit jacket he wears, only feeling slightly bad before he lets it drop to the floor.

You can feel the grip of his large hands through the material of the dress - one holding tight to the thigh you hiked to his side, the other roaming over your body before finding its place to cradle your head. Directing your mouth to his then away so he can place more kisses under your jaw. With every certain touch, with every meaningful place of his lips, your heart swells. He whispers every name he’s given you between each kiss, and you find yourself sighing out his, unable to say the words to ask for what you really want.

He has treated you so well all day, and you knew, you knew you would end up here at the end of it, in his arms and in his heart. You were ready to do whatever he wanted. Instead he takes hold of you and gives you everything you want without you having to say a word.

His hands find their way under your skirt, fingertips trailing sparks over your new stockings and to where the corset ends. Every single thing today has been a gift from him, and this here too is another. You can’t keep up, but you’ll let him take, you’ll let him give, you’ll let him have it all.

His bare chest is hot under you palms, your own breasts pulled from the confines of the corset just as you make it to the bed. It’s where you wanted to be all day, and it lives up to every hopeful wish. Arthur handles you, moves you were he wants, and even still it feels like he serves you.

His kisses are like the warm glow of a fire—you chase the feeling, chase his lips, and he gives into every whine from you. You reward him with your moans. He travels the map of your body and disappears under your skirts. His hands and mouth never part from you, and you scramble to take hold of yourself, take hold of him, take hold of the sheets beneath you.

Neither of you say it often, but you both know. Tonight, I love you is said with every touch of his skin to yours. I love you with every kiss. I love you as he wraps you around him. I love you as your hands come to cradle his head.

You pant heavily, still partially confined in your clothing, and as soon as Arthur’s lips return to yours, the frantic grabbing for one another’s affection subsides. He’s steady and reassuring, both of you content to sink into each other until you can’t be any closer. Your kisses turn slow and sultry. His shoulders shudder in your embrace, his hips solid between your legs.

It’s you and him and this bed and the way he calls you mine. It’s rare these moments you get with him, and you soak it up, relish in the way he lets himself love you. In return, you let yourself dream of the future in which you and Arthur share a life, a home, and a real bed.

#arthur morgan x reader #rdrvalentineexchange #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #arthur morgan

457 notes · View notes