#he wanted to start with RDR2 and I made him put the breaks in that

[icterid-rubus]

My dad retired in 2020 and one of his New Years resolutions this year was to ‘try video games’. I set him up on my switch with Super Mario Odyssey and ever since he learned how to turn it on by himself it’s been a waking nightmare. He’s on it constantly. From 10am- 5pm, 6pm-11pm, 1am-3am. He’s also deaf as a post so he’s got it blaring across the house. No one can use the tv room anymore. I’m contemplating taking the switch downstairs with me at 9. Like…grounding my dad. No video games from 9-9 mister.

[softrozene]

Sean is Struggling

Anon asked: Hi yes, I'm new to the fandom as well, but what about a Sean x Fem!Reader where after everything that had happened to him (before Arthur saved him in ch2) he's struggling with being touched and how the reader slowly gets him used to it? And like, angst hurt/comfort bc its 10:17pm and I want sad things that get resolved 

rdr2 masterlist

Sean is a good boi who deserves all the love

Originally published on January 12, 2020

Sean MacGuire x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst probably not enough but fluff to combat it, Sean has PTSD, Karen and Sean don’t happen lmao

Words: ~1k

You’ve been with this group long enough to know everyone on a personal level. You care for all of them equally and know when something is wrong. It just so happens that Sean is just a tad different. Okay, a lot different, and Arthur and Hosea may have picked up on that.

The relentless teasing you received from Arthur when his group brought Sean back was embarrassing. However, you could easily push whatever feelings you have away because as soon as Sean got to camp and you tried to give him one of the hugs he claims to always adore, he hesitated.

He never hesitates to hug you.

It was only a small thing but you noticed it and you kept your eyes and ears on him to see if anything else was amiss. There was plenty.

The male already drank like a pirate but it seemed to have worsened since he got back. Thankfully, he would hold off on being drunk until it got late but the odd thing was he drank alone or only ever with Arthur and John. Sometimes Hosea but rarely. That was the other odd thing. Arthur seemed to have gotten closer to Sean but in a way, you’d never under but desperately want to.

It made you sick to your stomach not knowing how to help the boy who is obviously having problems. So one night you decided to ask.

~*~

“Sean, Arthur, may I take a seat?” You ask softly looking at the fire.

Sean has already gone quiet. You hate when he goes quiet around you. It’s like he doesn’t want you there. You’re about to abort the mission when Arthur nods his head.

“Here, take my seat. It’s closer to the fire. I’m going to actually head to bed,” Arthur shares ignoring the glare Sean sends his way.

Arthur leaves and you sit down with hesitation.

Your heart starts to ache and you have a slight panic. Is whatever he went through that terrible that he doesn’t even want to be by you? Did you remind him of something? The thought nearly kills you.

“(Name), oh no. What the hell did I do?! Why are you crying?!” The poor fiery red-head is stunned.

You are stunned as well. You had no idea you had busted out into tears as your fingers brush your cheeks. You quickly try to recompose yourself and ask the question you’ve been dying to ask.

“Are you okay, Sean? Scratch that, tell me how I can help you. I noticed that even Arthur is trying to comfort you by being your drinking buddy but that isn’t going to work Sean. I can’t pretend I don’t see all the flinches you do anymore. All the little scared moments you have that you think no one else notices. Please tell me how I can help you,” You say your voice breaking in multiple parts.

Hearing the hurt in your voice, the pain you felt for him, it nearly made him cry. He doesn’t cry in front of others. He puts down his bottle and pulls you onto his lap. His arms immediately wrap around you tightly and he’s trembling, shaking like a damn leaf.

“Sorry (Name). I’ve been so fucking stupid as of late. I’ve been avoiding you too. I-“ He stops so he won’t cry.

You can feel his hands shaking worse than his whole body and you realize he’s already trying to push himself for you. You scramble off of him in a heartbeat. The confusion on his face shows as you gently take his hand.

“You are naïve to think that a bottle will fix what happened. Or make you forget. I’m unsure how to help you, but if avoiding me was helping you I can accept that. I can stop trying to care abou-“

The squeeze Sean gives your hand became a tad painful as he lets out a choked “no”. He glances around, to make sure the others are still sleeping or well haven’t been eavesdropping before he allows himself to speak with a bit more urgency.

“No. No. I don’t want that. Avoiding is making things worse. I- I miss you. I miss your hugs. I miss actually talking to you and teasing you. I’ve been avoiding you because I like you so damn much and I thought you seeing how badly this affected me would’ve been a turn-off,” He admits his skin turning a little bit red from embarrassment.

You honestly want to hit him with love right about now.

“You might be a bit of a dumbass. You honestly thought that I wouldn’t like you because of this? Sean, I care too much about you. I honestly love you. It’s hurting me seeing you like this,” You whisper looking at your joined hands.

His slim long fingers are holding onto your own with everything they have. He had stopped shaking. It finally hits you.

“I know that they physically harmed you. If you want me to help we can start there? Have little touches like this until you are more comfortable and your body and mind processes that you are safe here? Only if you want to though. I’m so sorry for projecting my feelings onto you like that,” You murmur out all of this in a slight panic once again.

Sean gives you a hearty chuckle and large grin as he asks, “Did you say you love me?”

“Of course, that’s the part that sticks with you! I guess that’s good. That means there is hope for you yet,” You mumble looking anywhere but him.

He pulls your hand to his chest forcing you to look at him. Only this time he’s serious. “I’ve been holding out on ya since Blackwater but I love you too (Name). I accept your help since you’re so willing. Ah… Would you be kind enough to uh-“

He stops talking and simply uses his other hand to point and tap his cheek. He so desperately wants the simple touch so you gladly do it. Your soft lips meet his skin and he almost melts at the moment. Pulling away, you both stare at each other and for the first time since he’s been back, Sean feels completely safe.

[novaiya]

Love below 0°C - Arthur x Reader

Summary: You’ve just escaped from Blackwater, barely ducking from bullets that were shot your way. Your trusted horse, however, wasn’t so lucky. Stuck in Colter with no stables to buy a horse from, Arthur decides to go out and get you one, but not just any one, a White Arabian. Is the horse the only thing he's bringing back?

Words: 2.8k

Tags: Established Relationship, FLUFF, 

A/N: I think the last line in this piece is the best line I’ve ever wrote simply because oh the image it evokes :(

Based on this request: Could you please do a fic set during the prologue of rdr2 in Colter, that Arthur tries to tame the white Arabian for the reader because their horse died instead of Boedecia, it takes hours to do it and when he brings it back to camp he starts sneezing and catches a cold so the reader thanks him by taking care of him :D

If you prefer to read on AO3, click here.

The wind was brutal, hitting your body with such force that you were wondering how the horses were able to keep going. If it wasn’t for you holding onto Arthur, you were sure that the wind would’ve taken you away.

Having escaped from Blackwater, the entire gang have found themselves up in the mountains, caught in a snowstorm. Although the weather was cruel and you could already feel your limbs go numb, it beat being captured by the Pinkertons and the lawmen that would surely kill you more painful than the weather would.

As everybody rode on, thinking about the next move or the weather, you were thinking about your horse. From the East to the West and back to the East, he was with you through it all. A gift from Arthur, he was the first, and only, horse you’ve had since joining the Van Der Linde gang. He was loyal to you from the start, patient as you learned how to properly ride and take care of him, and he deserved more than to be killed by a stray bullet from a Blackwater lawman. Tears pricked your eyes as you remembered the image of him laying on the ground, taking his last breath right before Arthur ran up and scooped you away, putting you on his horse and riding away from the damned town.

Your head was laying on Arthur’s back as he rode through the snow, following the light of Dutch’s lantern. You were starting to doze off, Arthur’s back, warm and soft, being as good as any pillow. The voices of Dutch and the rest of the gang were fading into the foreground as you fell asleep, the sound of wind howling accompanying you into the dream world.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself in a bed, with a blanket over you and Arthur snuggled behind you. Despite the snow outside making the windows of the cabin tremble, you were as warm and cozy as you could be. You turned around in Arthur’s hold, facing him; he was so cute when he slept, with his mouth slightly open. His nose and cheeks were a bit red, indicating that he was probably out in the cold last night. You had to make sure to keep him warm and safe while you were in this weather, you thought, otherwise he was bound to catch a cold. You knew how reckless he could get, forgetting to take care of himself and putting others first. It was one of the best and at the same time worst traits of his.

As if he felt you watching him, he gradually opened his eyes.

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Morning,” you returned. “Were you out last night?” you said, running a hand through his hair and down to his reddened cheek.

“I was. Me, Micah and Dutch went to check out a homestead Micah found. The O'Driscolls got there first. Found a woman there, brought her back.”

“What about the homestead? Can we go back and stay there?”

“Unfortunately, Micah got to it first, burned the whole thing to the ground.”

“Jesus…” you drew, shaking your head.

The two of you were silent for a moment before Arthur spoke again.

“How are you feeling?” he said, eyeing you with a bit of worry. The two of you didn’t have time to discuss the situation till now.

“I’m okay,” you said, shuffling a bit and rising up so you could sit against the headboard. “Just sad about Happy. He didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, following you and sitting against the headboard as well. He smiled as he remembered the day when he gifted you your horse. Since joining the gang, you would either ride one of the unused horses kept by the hitching post, or ride on the back of Boadicea with Arthur. Despite never being without a ride, you felt that you were ready to have one you could properly call your own, and shared that with Arthur. Being the gentleman he was, Arthur quickly took you to the nearest stable and bought you your new horse (an act for which he got a kiss and which started your relationship) “I remember when the two of you first met, you didn’t even have to break him in. He practically wanted you to mount him,” he said with a laugh.

You smiled and chuckled a bit, remembering how quickly you formed a bond with your horse. That smile quickly faded as you realized you were never going to see Happy again. You shook your head, trying to push away the thoughts.

The two of you got ready before going out of your room and into a dining room-kitchen area of the little cabin you stayed in. Molly was standing by the counter, looking out of the window and sipping on a coffee. Hosea was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, warming up his hands. You went to the counter to make a cup of coffee for yourself and Arthur.

“I know it might be too soon,” Arthur said, coming up to you and taking the coffee you offered. “But we need to get you a new horse.”

His words stung you a bit; you felt bad for replacing Happy so soon, but you knew that you had to. If you had no horse, you couldn’t be a productive member of the gang.

“I know,” you said, looking down into your cup of coffee. “But how are we supposed to do that? We can’t just go out to buy one now, it might be too dangerous.”

“I’ve heard stories of an Arabian horse roaming in the mountains not far from here.” Hosea’s voice made both of you look at him.

Arthur turned around to face him. “Do you know where exactly?”

“Well, no one is sure for certain, and they are just that, stories, but people said they’ve seen it around Lake Isabella.”

__________________________

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” you said, standing next to Arthur’s horse as he mounted it, getting ready to make the trip to Lake Isabella.

“You know me darlin’,” Arthur said with a smile. “I’m always careful.”

You chuckled, slapping his leg playfully.

He bent down slightly, and you stood on your tiptoes, meeting him halfway and kissing him. His lips were cold, and so were yours, but neither of you minded. When you broke apart, he gave you a smile before spurring Boadicea and disappearing into the snowy plain.

You stood in the snow for a few more minutes, looking out into the distance where Arthur rode away to. You hoped he would be careful and take care of himself like he promised. He had a tendency of neglecting himself, being careless and letting himself get hurt or sick. On more than one occasion you had to make sure he wore warm clothes when you were in colder climates, or wore his hat when the sun was especially brutal. Despite being a one of the leaders of the Van Der Linde gang, stepping in for Dutch or Hosea when he had to, he could be so silly when it came to trivial things.  You chuckled to yourself. Good thing he had you, you thought, a thought that Arthur often had himself.

__________________________

The snowstorm was getting more brutal the further he went into the mountains. At some points, he couldn’t even see in front of him, everything hidden by the white of the snow. From time to time, the storm would get so brutal, Boedecia could barely move through it. Finally, after a few hours he could see the frozen Lake Isabella. Everything was covered in white; the trees, the rocks, the lake itself. All the animals that were able to withstand the harsh weather and roamed around too wore coats of white, blending in with the surroundings. In this scenery, Arthur stood out like a sore thumb with his dark blue coat and his black hat.

He hitched Boedecia to one of the trees that lined the shore of the lake before venturing out, trying to get a feel for the surrounding area.

He should get a fire started, he thought, warm himself up before getting to work. That’s what you would’ve done, at least, if you were here. He promised you that he would take care of himself. He felt bad for not doing that, but he hoped he would be in and out within an hour, so forth he went.

It was hours before he finally found her, having missed her white coat in the equally white snow a countless times. Finding her, however, wasn’t even the hardest part, breaking her in, that was. She bucked him off for what he felt like a dozen times. He could barely feel his face in the end, having been thrown off face first in the snow far too many times. Finally, as if the horse was just as tired of bucking off Arthur as Arthur was tired of being bucked off, she gave in, relaxing under him.

Despite being cold, tired and hungry, he forwent setting up camp to rest, already planning the route back to Colter. Being the completionism that he was, he didn’t feel that his mission was over until you had the horse’s reins in your hand.

“Let’s get you to your new owner,” he said, patting the mare’s platinum mane.

He whistled for Boedecia, and when she came, the three of them started their journey back to Colter. The snow storm still blew, but it was not as rough as it was before, and Arthur could see the path in front of him. He noticed how serene and quiet the area was, and if it wasn’t for his occasional sneezes cutting through the silence, there would be nothing heard. When his nose started to run, he cursed himself, using the cuff of his coat to wipe at it.

__________________________

You were standing by the window, sipping on your coffee and looking outside when you saw Arthur make his way up the path on a horse that was as white as a fresh winter snow. “Arthur!” you exclaimed and ran outside.

“Got a present for ya,” he said as he dismounted the horse.

As you looked over your new ride, taking notice of her beautiful, platinum hair and her equally platinum body, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the sneezes and sniffles that came from Arthur. Oh, Arthur! Of course he didn’t listen to you, you thought, probably didn’t set up a fire and most likely spent too much time in the snow. His selfless act, as much as it meant to you, came at a cost that you would now have to help him pay.

“Oh, Arthur,” you said after he sneezed again.

“I’m alright,” he said like he always did, waving away with his hand.

“C’mon,” you said, taking Arthur’s hand in yours and leading him into the house and your room. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Darlin’, I told you, I’m all right.”

He would not have been Arthur Morgan if he didn’t try to reject your help at least once. He hated being a burden to you or to anyone, especially when he was at fault. You, however, after being in a relationship with him for the past few years, learned to not pay attention to his rejections, simply continuing on with what you were doing. With your help, after a few minutes, he was down to his union suit, his clothes, heavy and wet, laying in the corner of the room to be hanged up to dry later. You fished out a fresh set of clothes from your unpacked bags, a pair of pants, a shirt and a warm jacket made of sheepskin, and gave it to him before leaving the room to get a hot cup of coffee and a meal for Arthur.

The room was quiet while you were outside, and Arthur had a moment to let his thoughts travel freely in his mind. He looked at his arms and his legs, clothed in fresh, dry clothes. He looked at the door where on the other side you, his love, were preparing food for him. The warmth that the clothes provided could not rival the warmth he felt in his heart through all your acts of love. He never imagined that someone could love him as much as you did. Not only that, he didn’t think he deserved it, after everything he has done in his life. The words were no match for what he felt for you as you opened the door, balancing a cup of coffee and a bowl of stew as you held the doorknob, your cheeks red from the cold, your eyes full of love as you looked at him.

__________________________

“You silly, silly man,” you said as you sat on a chair next to the bed, looking over Arthur. It has been a few days since Arthur brought back the white Arabian and with her, the cold he caught. He was sneezing, coughing, blowing his nose, the whole nine yards, yet despite all that, he still wanted to get back on his horse and to work. You had to all but tie him to the bed to keep him from going out.

“I need to go out with Dutch,” he would say between sneezes, trying to get up and go.

“They'll have to manage without you,” you would return, pushing him back on the bed and covering him with blankets. “I’m not gonna let you get any more sicker.”

The next few days were mostly spent in the confines of the four walls of your room, with you taking care of Arthur. Surprising yourself, he didn’t fight too much, giving in almost right away and letting you nurse him to health. He could get used to it, he thought, as you kept taking care of him, tucking him under blankets, bringing hot bowls of stew. On a couple of occasions, he caught himself imagining that he wasn’t in some broken down cabin in Colter, hiding from Pinkertons and lawmen, but in his own house, on his own land. The image warmed him up more than any bowl of stew or cup of coffee could.

As you were laying in the bed with Arthur, you could hear the snow storm playing outside, threatening to break the windows and invade the room. Although the walls were cold, with Arthur’s body and a blanket over the two of you, you were warm. By now, Arthur has almost completely recovered, the only trace of the sickness being a sneeze here and there, but it too was almost completely gone.

“You know,” Arthur started, making you look up at him from where your head was on his chest. “It’s in moments like these, when I can see us bein’ somewhere else. Just the two of us.”

He imagined the two of you on your own ranch or a farm. No bounties to hunt, no debts to collect. He could see himself as a rancher, not carrying his gun belt every waking hour, a dog by his side. He imagined you, in a light, flow-y dress, taking care of the house, bringing love and light to it just as you did to every tent the two of you have shared. Maybe the cold has made his mind delirious, but he could even see the two of you grow old together, sitting on a rocking chair on the porch of your house, your hair gray, your face littered with wrinkles, each one telling a story.

“Me too,” you said, imagining a similar scenery in your mind. The mess that had just gone down in Blackwater had shaken your trust in Dutch just as it had for Arthur. Something has changed, and despite continuing following Dutch, the two of you realized you could only rely on one another. It’s a realization, so crucial, which would come to play strongly in the next few months, a lifeline that would lead you to your happy ever after in the end, with you, in a flow-y dress on the porch of your ranch, watching as Arthur tended to the herd, no gun on his hip, only sweat on his forehead from an honest day of work.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Aftermath (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: Here is my masterlist and here is the link to go to if you’d like to be on any of my taglists! My latest rdr2 fic was a Charles fluffy piece called The Chase if you want to check it out :)

Warnings: mentions of falling off a train, hurt reader, descriptions  of wounds and blood, but mostly fluffiness

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: After a heist ends badly, Arthur cleans you up and chastises you for not being more careful. 

***

Your horse came to a stop in front of the hitch post just outside of camp. You paused for a moment to breathe now that you were safe. 

Your heart was still racing from the events of earlier and your hands gripped your horse’s reins so tightly that your knuckles hurt. But that pain was nothing compared to the rest of your body. 

“Need a hand, Y/N?” Lenny asked, tying his horse up and moving towards you. 

“Get me down before Arthur-,” You stopped, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth making your stomach clench up. You knew it was him. 

Lenny helped you down from your horse, catching you as you slipped down from the saddle. You tried to put weight on your left leg, but the pain in your ankle was too much. You nearly collapsed. 

“Easy there, Y/N.” Lenny kept his arm around you. 

Your eyes caught sight of Arthur and John coming into camp. 

“Go, Lenny.” You urged, letting him go and giving him a push away from you. 

“Are you sure, Y/N? You can’t even stand on your own.”

“I’ll be fine, Lenny.” You assured him, leaning against the hitch post for support. “He’s angry and I don’t want him yellin’ at you.”

“Tie ‘er up.” You heard Arthur tell John, no doubt talking about his horse. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction of his voice. 

You took a deep breath and started to make your way across camp to yours and Arthur’s tent. You gritted your teeth together. Your nails dug into your palms from how tightly your fingers were curled up. But you pushed through the pain and kept going. You just needed to make it to the tent before Arthur could make a scene in front of everyone. 

“Y/N!” Susan gasped. “What in the hell happened to you, girl?”

You wanted to shake it off, to tell her you were fine, but you knew if you opened your mouth you’d make some sort of pained sound, something that would alert a certain outlaw that you were more injured than you let on. 

“Don’t let her walk away from you, Mrs. Grimshaw.” Arthur spoke, his voice deep and devoid of the usual teasing tone he had when he spoke towards you. 

“What happened, Arthur?” Hosea moved towards you both, wanting to make sure you were okay. 

You shook your head, still hastily walking in the direction of the tent.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t acknowledge Arthur. 

“Don’t you walk away from me, woman!”

You were so close to the tent, maybe another six steps and then you’d be able to—

A large hand grabbed hold of your arm and he pulled you around to face him. You lost your balance, stepping on to your left leg. You cried out in pain and your knee buckled. 

Arthur caught you, one of his arms wrapping around your torso while the other grabbed your hip. 

“Let me go, Arthur!” You pushed against him, your hands flat against his chest as you tried to put as much space between yourself and him as possible. 

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Y/N. Ya got a busted ankle. Shouldn’t be walkin’ on it.”

“I can handle it my-damn-self!” You protested, still pushing against him. You tried to pry his hands away from you, to break his firm grip on you by grabbing his fingers and pulling away but he wasn’t letting go. 

“Quit being so goddamned stubborn, woman.” Arthur growled through clenched teeth. “Ya just fell off a fuckin’ movin’ train! Stop tryin’ to act so tough!”

“Get your hands off of me, Arthur Morgan!”

“Enough!” Dutch boomed, sending a wave of silence across the whole camp. It was only then that you realized everyone was watching you look like a fool. 

Arthur released you. The second he did, your weight was naturally distributed to both of your legs. You winced and lost your balance, using a crate by John and Abigail’s tent for support. 

Arthur flinched as if he’d catch you, but you caught yourself before he could come to the rescue. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Dutch asked, a furrow in his brow. 

“M’fine.” You forced through gritted teeth. “Wish people would stop askin’ me that.”

“Looks like you got into a bad fight at the saloon and lost.” Micah commented. 

“I’ll fucking show you a bad fight, you fucking inbreed-,”

“You better watch your mouth-,”

“I might be torn to hell but I will beat your ass into the ground-,”

“Cool it, both of you!” John intervened, stepping in front of Micah. 

“You can barely stand on your own, and you’re covered in blood.” Dutch said.  

“S’not my own.” You muttered, but he didn’t bother to listen to you. “Least I don’t think it is.”

“We don’t need you dyin’ off from an infected wound, Y/N. If you won’t let Arthur help you patch yourself up, have one of the girls do it.”

You nodded, locking your jaw tightly. 

Hosea shooed everyone away, knowing very well you’d pick Arthur. You were thankful that he’d give you guys some privacy. It was hard when the only walls you had in camp were made of canvas. 

“Are ya gonna stop bein’ a stubborn ass so I can help you?” Arthur asked. 

You nodded, keeping your eyes down. 

He moved towards you, carefully scooping you up bridal style. You winced, eyes squeezing shut. The way you were moved created a sharp pain in your ribs. 

Arthur took you to your shared tent and sat you down on the cot. 

“Start taking off your clothes.” He moved away from you and began to unravel the sides of the tent to give you privacy. 

Your hands were too heavy. Your muscles ached. Even the thought of moving brought on pain. You knew very well you wouldn’t be able to undress by yourself. 

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to look at you and saw that you were just staring at the picture of his mother he had framed on the chest next to the cot. 

“Pumpkin?”

“Hm?” You didn’t tear your eyes away from the picture. He could see it in your eyes. You weren’t really there with him. You were in your head. Arthur let out a gentle sigh, rubbing the side of his head, and moved to kneel down in front of you. The movement caught your attention, drawing your eyes to him. 

You took in a little breath, straightening your posture as your eyes focused on him. 

“M’gonna go get some things to clean you up with. Get some of your clothes off so I can see what we gotta deal with okay?” His voice, though deep and rumbly, was sweet and gentle. “Maybe put on your little gown, okay? That way we can see everything without you bein’ so uncovered.”

You said nothing, but you kept your eyes on him, on his lips more specifically. He wasn’t sure if you were actually getting everything he was saying, or if you were still zoned out. 

“Can you do that for me, pumpkin?”

You nodded your head a little. 

He rubbed the outside of your thigh before standing up and leaving the tent. 

You watched him go and for some reason seeing him leave made your heart beat harder and faster. Tears stung your eyes and you quickly brought your hand up to wipe them away. 

The events of earlier that day flashed through your head.

It was supposed to be an easy train robbery. Dutch and Hosea had planned it out with Arthur taking the lead. You joined him with Lenny, John, Javier, and Sean. 

Everything went smoothly until another group of eight men on horses showed up with plans to rob the train themselves. And as luck would have it, you used to run with one of the men. He was anything but a nice guy and definitely not someone you wanted to run into during a heist. 

When Arthur returned to the tent, he found you sitting on the cot hunched forward with your head in your hands. You weren’t changed out of your clothes and it appeared that you were crying. 

He placed the bowl of warm water down on the chest by the cot and put the other supplies in his arms down as well. 

He knelt down in front of you, large hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your hands from your face. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were red. 

“Are you cryin’ cause I was yellin’ at ya?”

You shook your head. 

“Are you hurtin’?”

You nodded. 

“Where at, pumpkin?”

“Everywhere, Arthur.” You cried quietly. “I-I’m so-sorry.”

“Don’t start that now.” He shook his head. “Won’t do you any good to start apologizin’ while you’re upset like this. It’ll just make ya even more upset. Don’t want ya makin’ yourself sick. Now let’s get you outta these clothes.”

“I-I can’t-Arthur, I’m just-,” You couldn’t seem to form sentences even though you knew what you wanted to say. The adrenaline had worn off and you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep, but you knew Arthur wouldn’t let you do that just yet. 

“S’alright, pumpkin. I’ll help ya.” He reached up and began to unbutton your shirt. 

You fell silent, sniffling every now and then. 

Once your shirt was unbuttoned, he carefully pulled it off of your shoulders. 

“Shit, Y/N.” Arthur cursed under his breath. With your shirt gone, the bruising on your arms and chest could now be seen. 

There were hand-shaped bruises along your upper arms and a few cuts on the back of your right forearm. Your chest had a long bruise across it too. It was an odd pattern and Arthur couldn’t figure out quite what it was. 

“I-I didn’t….” Arthur reached out to tentatively trace his fingers over the bruising on your bicep. “Did I….?”

“No.” Your voice was raspy. “That’s not from you. There was a man on the train. He caught me off guard. He’s the one who gave me a busted face.”

Arthur pressed his lips together in a firm line. You could see the anger festering behind his eyes. His large hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across the corner of your cracked lips. You winced a little. He apologized softly. 

“What about the one on your chest?”

“There was another feller, he used a metal bar to clothes line me.”

He pulled his hand from your face, eyes lingering on the nasty bruise on your chest. 

“The second I got my footing, I put a knife between his ribs.” 

“That’s my girl.” He praised, making your heart race. 

Arthur reached around you to find the strings to your corset. With one effortless tug, the corset loosened and you took a breath. 

“I know you’re happy to be outta that.” Arthur tossed the corset to the foot of the cot. “Ya think you could stand so we can get your jeans offa ya?”

“I can stand on my right, but not my left.”

“I’ll be on your left. You lean against me. How about that?”

You nodded. Arthur stood up and helped you to your feet. You slipped an arm around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of his jacket to brace yourself. He put an arm around you too. 

“How am I supposed to get my jeans off when I got one arm around you and you got one arm around me?” You asked him. 

He paused for a moment and you watched as he thought about it. 

“Well, I gotta hand and you gotta hand. Why don’t we use ‘em both?” He suggested. 

You giggled. 

It took some effort, but the two of you worked together to unbutton your jeans and get them down. 

Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he saw the cut on your thigh. How did he not see it before? 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“M’fine, Arthur.”

He got you into your nightgown and then sat you back down on the bed. 

He started with the thigh wound, cleaning the dried blood and then wrapping a bandage around your leg. From there, he looked down at your ankle. A bruise had already formed and around the joint was swollen. 

He sighed out, then turned his attention to the bowl of warm water. He dipped the clean rag into the water and rung it out. His eyes flickered up to your face. He paused for a moment. 

Your nose had been bleeding but now the blood was smeared across your cheek, dried. Bruising trailed from underneath your eye down to your cheekbone where a cut was from a fist. Your lips were busted and split open. The corners of your eyes were black and blue. Your nose didn’t look broken, so that was good. 

He let out another sigh. You knew he was trying to keep his emotions at bay. 

“I…. Arthur, m’sorry.” You whispered, your voice breaking from how quiet you were. 

He shook his head. His jaw ticked as the muscle tightened. He was gritting his teeth together. 

“How could you be so stupid, Y/N? Told you to wait for Javier or John. I knew there were men coming but you didn’t listen.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“But I wouldn’t’a been thrown from the goddamned train.”

“You don’t know that.” You mumbled under your breath. 

Arthur took hold of your chin, turning your head so you had no choice but to look at him. 

“Don’t get that way with me, pumpkin.” He started to wipe blood from under your nose. “You could’ve died today. I…. I could’ve lost ya.”

You fell silent. 

He cleaned the blood from your face, using soft, gentle brushes with the rough rag. 

“Arthur? Y/N?” Mary Beth spoke from outside of the tent.

“It’s alright, Mary Beth.” Arthur dipped the rag into the water. “You can step in.”

You looked to him then down at his chest. 

“Just wanted to bring Y/N some supper. Thought maybe she’d be hungry.” Her eyes found you and she gasped softly. “Oh, Y/N. You….” She trailed off. 

“I’m okay.” You assured her, offering her a little smile.

“Thank you, Mary Beth.” Arthur took the bowl of soup from her and placed it down on the chest by the cot. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” She asked softly.

“Get me some fresh water in this bowl please, would ya?” Arthur asked her. 

“Of course.”

As she slipped out of the tent, Arthur returned his attention to you. 

“The man who threw me over….” You started, but trailed off, unable to finish. 

“I’m gonna find him and kill ‘em.”

“No, Arthur.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at Arthur. “Please. You-You have to promise me never-to never go after him. I’m-I’m fine. Just a little beat up is all.”

Arthur furrowed his brows together. 

“Do you…. You know that feller, don’t you?”

“Used to run with him.” You answered quietly. “He’s not someone you play with, Arthur. He’s worse than Micah.” 

Arthur sighed through his nose. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me back there that you knew him?”

“It wasn’t really high on my list when we had fellers shootin’ at us, Arthur.”

He rubbed his brow.

“I know you’re mad at me.”

“M’not mad at ya, pumpkin. Just…. I was scared that I was gonna lose you.” 

You turned your head away from him but he wouldn’t let you look away for very long. With two fingers beneath your chin, he turned your head back to him. 

“When I saw you go over the side of that train, I-I fuckin’ lost it. Nearly beat the piss outta poor Lenny ‘cause he was in my way. Couldn’t get to you fast enough.” Arthur shook his head. He brushed a tear from your cheek. “When we finally stopped the train and I found you….” He trailed off. 

“It don’t matter now, Arthur. I’m here.” You reminded him, turning your head to kiss his palm. 

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, Y/N.”

“We got dangerous lives, Arthur. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“I can damn sure try.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You mean the world to me, pumpkin. Ain’t gonna let shit happen to you. Even if that means I gotta stop you from doin’ stupid shit.”

You smiled a little, leaning forward to tuck your head underneath his chin.

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm  

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[dreamdaddydutch]

Autumn Haze

Hello all! It has been a sweet age since I last posted a piece of RDR2 fanfic/headcanons etc. But this week I’ve really been enjoying Autumn and wanted to write a little something involving Javier. Not overly sure what this is but it’s a small comfort fic for this time of year and being cosy. 

No real warning aside from ‘reader’ does smoke. The reader’s relationship with Javier in this is very much open to whether you read as platonic, romantic etc.

Characters: Javier x reader  I  Word count:  1,005

The view from Horseshoe overlook was one you could never tire of. Indeed you wished to watch as the Seasons changed year after year, the colours of the trees reflecting the shortening and lengthening of the days. It was a nice dream to hold on if only for a brief respite from the usual daily chaos. 

It’s then it dawns on you that neither yourself nor Javier have said anything in a while despite being sat side by side. It wasn’t unusual though, the two of you just got along, felt comfortable with one another and sometimes words weren’t needed to fill the silence. You turned slightly to the side and saw Javier staring out into the horizon as you had been. The expression he wore was slightly glazed and not what you were used to. 

“It’s cold,” you say stating the obvious as you rub your arms hoping the friction will garner what little heat they can. 

Sometimes it was okay to break the silence. 

“It’s only gonna get colder,” Javier replies as he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you afterwards.

You accept, grateful for the warmth it will provide just momentarily. 

You shiver, you know even under the layers you’re wearing that they’ll be goosebumps on your skin, you’re not used to this weather or the extreme drop in temperature at night. 

But Fall and Winter were always so beautiful back home and from the change of colour in the leaves to the stars above on a clear night you knew it would be beautiful here too. 

This was what you wanted wasn’t it? The adventure, a change of scenery and a chance to prove yourself. But to whom you were trying to prove yourself to you weren’t exactly sure, to yourself? To friends and your siblings who doubted you? To God… God in your mind had died long ago and somehow you’d made peace with it as you sailed across the Atlantic ocean waving your old life goodbye.

Lost in your thoughts you hadn’t heard Javier speak to you again, his question unanswered caused him to move closer to you and check you were okay.

You jumped back into reality, “Sorry, I’m sorry I just…I get lost in my thoughts some times,” you explained as you lit up the cigarette and stared across the valley.

“We all do, I guess…I think it’s called being human,” he offered a supportive smile. 

Smiling in return you looked at the ground, “I guess.”

“Although,” Javier quickly jumped in, “I get in…we all get lost in our thoughts but some of us…we’re dreamers. Real dreamers. Some of us,” he paused again as he took a long drag of his cigarette, “Have an all too vivid past.”

Looking back up at him you noticed his eyes were now closed. A small gust of wind caused more than the steady flurry of leaves to tumble from above. Orange, red, yellow, brown, colours so golden like sunset, you could feel the warmth spread through you just watching them. 

You placed a hand on Javier’s shoulder, you knew exactly the past he was referring to much like he knew the past you had been running from. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Javier’s eyes opened, “It’s so beautiful up here.”

“Yes,” you agreed.

“Right now I mean,” Javier looked up at the stirring branches, then back across the soft damp grass where patches of fungi grew and pinecones had fallen, shelter and food for small beasties. “This moment, right now.” He repeated. 

You nodded in agreement, “Can we stay here forever?”

Javier was silent for a moment as you finished your cigarette, before you’d even put it out he had opened his flask of coffee and started to pour, “It’s a nice dream to have.” He agreed.

That’s all it was, a dream. You both knew the peace couldn’t last but it was too perfect a moment to not just sit and appreciate the cool air of the dying day as the sun dipped beyond the horizon. 

Your hands wrapped round the mug of coffee, an appreciative involuntary shiver ran up your spine.

Silence again, normally a silence you so appreciated but in that moment you found you could have talked to Javier all night. But what to say next?

“I heard Pearson is making Pumpkin pie tonight,” you said hopefully suddenly thinking of something to say. 

Javier wrinkled his nose and chuckled, “Just don’t get too excited.”

You gave a snort as you sipped the warm coffee, true, Pearson wasn’t exactly the finest cook around and it often left something to be desired. But…equally it was nice to have hope, it was, after-all the thing that drove the gang on. It was what drove both you and Javier on. 

You rested your head on Javier’s shoulder and although you couldn’t see his expression, you had no doubt that he was smiling. Javier’s smiles were rarely big or even that obvious to those that didn’t know him, but you did know him. You knew every part of him.

“Still cold?” Javier asked a moment later. 

“I’m fine,” you lied. 

He sat up for a moment and wrapped his poncho round your shoulders, “No use saying you ain’t cold when it’s as clear as day you are.” He was right, you were shivering against him, out of everyone surely you could at least be honest with Javier?

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly grateful for the gesture as you pulled the material in close around you.

It was five minutes, maybe ten of silence and listening to the bird song and breeze, perfectly content in the Autumnal wonderland and with the company of one another. But it didn’t last long, it never did. Soon the moment was disturbed by the sound of Dutch calling out for both of you. 

With a heavy heart and a sigh you went to stand up when Javier stopped you, “Just a minute longer, after-all the sun hasn’t finished saying goodbye.”

[fanfiction-inc]

Can you do a NS/FW HC about Arthur being told what to do by his usually submissive female S/O? Like him being really surprised but also turned the hell on? (Sorry if this is very specific!)

Thank you so much for requesting, my dear!

((A.N: As a general disclaimer, this is NS/FW, and everything in this HC that is NS/FW will be under the cut.))

Arthur had been gone for many nights since the last stagecoach heist, being persuaded by Dutch to go along and rob the carriage with him since the passengers were "high in the aristocratic hierarchy".

He had promised he would be back that night, but it's been three days, and you were worried sick about the man.

What if he had been injured?

What if the Pinkertons caught up to him?

So when he came strolling in, that grin on his face and at his mentors side, you were pissed.

He acted like he hadn't promised you that he would be back that night, like he didn't worry you to death.

He acted like a man who had the best three nights of his life.

But the moment he caught your gaze, arms crossed over your chest and jaw set, he knew he was in trouble.

Big trouble.

"Go be with ya woman. I'll let Hosea know how things went." Dutch excused him from their conversation, giving a tip of his hat to you.

You were not amused one bit by such, only glaring in turn at the man who made Arthur come along in the first place.

Arthur comes up with an uneasy smile, hand coming to take your own, reeling back when you jerk your hand away.

"Three nights. Three nights, Arthur Morgan." You hissed. "Three nights I thought ya were dead!"

"I wasn't dead-" He started, trying to explain his absence.

"Clearly." You huffed.

When you turn your back to him, he follows with concern.

Did he really hurt you that badly?

Did he make you worry to the point of anger?

"(Your name)." He tries, watching you when you angrily remove the dress overlaying your corset and bloomers.

"What?" You snapped in turn, turning to him as he takes a step forward.

"How can I make it up t'ya?" He questioned softly, his gruff tone soft when he takes hold of your arms in his big hands.

He watched when you looked angrily into those puppy dog eyes, watched how your cheeks adorned color.

It was hard to place if it was because of the gaze he gave you or the anger in your chest.

He just wanted to make you happy, make you see that he wasn't leaving any time soon... but you weren't in the mood for that.

You were gonna put Arthur Morgan in his place.

The tension slowly melted from your muscles as you stand before him, gaze slowly softening but a clear strain between calm and tense still evident.

Then he saw the gears turning behind your eyes, saw your mind working.

He was in for one hell of a shock.

"I want you on your knees, Arthur Morgan."

Now this startles him.

His blue eyes stare at you in absolute shock.

Was his woman really asking him for something like that? And in such a tone that left his stomach fluttering with butterflies?

When you raise a brow expectantly, he swallows hard, moving down with a soft huff and sitting before you on his knees.

Those same blue eyes stay connected with yours, watching you.

Savoring how you looked at him in a way he hasn't seen before.

Your gaze was almost.. Hungry. Like a predator circling their prey.

He recognized that the demand wasn't shaky on your tongue, this not exactly being what he expected with you.

He knew that you were usually the one to softly be told to lay or be on his lap.

That you were usually so...submissive.

He would be damned if he said it out loud right now, but Arthur liked this new side to you.

And the tent in his trousers gave away just how badly.

"Want me to take these here bloomers off..." He pauses, considering something new that he could bring to the table. "Ma'am?"

He watched how you shivered at such a title.

"Yes, nice and slow." You mumbled in turn, hearing the audible noise he gives out when his fingers hook in the waistband.

"Makin' me make it a show then, yeah?" He questioned, hot breath fanning over you as he slowly dragged them down your legs.

"One we both'll like. Now hush and let that mouth of yours do the talkin' somewhere else." You retort, fingers slowly coming to tangle in his hair.

He savored the feeling, knowing it all too well when you shared kisses behind the tents or on runs.

He knew it when you sat together, relaxing during winter days or hot summer nights. How your fingers would play there when you were lost in a book or being lulled to sleep by his voice.

But most of all, he knew it in moments like these when you laid sprawled out on the bed, at the mercy of his tongue.

His eyes flutter and darken when your grip tightened, bringing his face closer to where you need him.

His beard lightly scratched at your inner thighs, lazy, open mouthed kisses trailing up further and further.

Arthur is only able to deliver another kiss before another tug sends him closer, tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up your folds.

"Oh- Fuck." Your own curse brings a soft chuckle from his lips, then he refocused on the task at hand.

His eyes flicker up to your own when he takes your bundle of nerves between his lips, suckling and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

How your face contorted with pleasure when he brings your legs over his shoulders and probes with his tongue.

How your soft noises begin to fill the air, making his pants strain further.

He's infatuated with you, especially when your control over him doesn't slip despite the pleasure being given.

A groan leaves his lips when you pull him by the hair after a few moments, making him face you.

His beard and lips were decorated with your slick, pupils lust blown and half-lidded.

His hair was a mess when you removed your fingers from the locks, trailing down to cup his cheek.

You've never seen him so disheveled before, so...used.

And yet he cracked a smile, delivering a kiss against your palm that remained slick and sticky against your skin.

"I jus' wanted a look at ya." You whispered into the air, the man's smile shifting to a smirk when you leaned forward.

"Is that all, darlin'? Not because y'want an apology kiss?" He murmured against the skin of your palm, moving up to give that kiss he talked about.

He was testing how far your new demeanor was going, seeing if it would slip after a few minutes of eating you out.

"That's ma'am to you, boy." You corrected, watching him shiver at the new name. He then gasped when you grabbed his chin, making him stop and stare when you kept him in place.

He wasn't getting control so easily tonight.

"If I recall correctly, Mr. Morgan, you're not done." He shivered once more at the near purr in your tone, licking his lips at the idea of being between your thighs again.

"Yes ma'am." He replied with a soft hint of need.

He's brought back down, eagerness in his being as he worships your core.

Quick licks at the bundle of nerves that grew more sensitive with each passing moment towards climax.

His suckling and the rumble of his groan against your skin at the flavor that coats his tongue and runs down his chin.

He's like a man dying of thirst, just wanting the levee to break and the waters to rush.

He watches when you bite down on your lip, attempting to silence yourself when that edge comes closer, when his hair is held in a white knuckled grip.

That's when he brings down the final nail in the coffin, leaving you to tremor and shake.

The moment is lost in a blur, his lips connected around your bundle and fingers buried deep, hitting that spot that makes you jelly.

He works you through your high, aiding in bringing you what you wanted until you're letting him go and pulling away.

You were far too over sensitive for him to continue, and he didn't want to push you too far.

As you pant, he rises up over you, stealing that kiss that he wanted earlier on, making sure you taste yourself on his lips.

It was almost like a 'thank you' from his part, for seeing a power shift that he hadn't thought would happen.

At least not quite like this.

"Do ya accept m'apology, darlin'?" He questioned softly. Huskily. "Or should I keep callin' ya ma'am?"

You give a soft laugh at his question.

"I s'pose so...boy." You breathed out in a pant, his eyes brimming with need when the term is used again.

Arthur wasn't a man to usually beg for things that he needed. Not at all.

But he still needed to be taken care of, to release the tension in his pants.

"Ma'am, please." He begged softly, grinding himself down against your hip, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

He watched the consideration in your gaze, then the resolve that followed when your hand came to cup him.

Then there was a shift, and his heart sank.

"I don't think you deserve that tonight, Mr. Morgan. Y'really upset me." You then separate from him, standing.

He watched with a gaze that damn near screamed need in the purest of forms, ready to reach out and beg.

He never begged before.

"Ma'am, please, m'beggin' ya." He damn near choked on the words as they left his lips.

This wasn't his forte by any means, being the one left yearning for more.

At least he was fair with his teasing, giving in when you begged.

He watched when you're unstringing your corset, how it fell and left you completely bare to him.

Then he sees you sigh, hears the soft sound before your voice even reaches him.

"Dammit, I can't stay mad at ya when you're lookin' at me like that."

He groaned when you cupped him once more through his trousers, giving a jerk through them.

"Thank you, ma'am." His tone is strained as he says such, feeling your bare skin around his shaft when you release him from his pants.

From there, he's left to your mercy.

Slow when you want it, faster if he asked nicely.

Stopping when he's too close and finally giving him what he needs when he's looking at you with those eyes that scream every desire the man had.

Maybe he should mess up more often if this is gonna be the result.

RDR2 TAG LIST:

@lise-soontobemarried | @imtootiredforreddit | @morgans-cowbaby | @btsloversaregreat | @sokkasdarling

[verai-marcel]

Sharing is Caring (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, Charles x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur have been a pair for a few months, and he's fully aware that he claimed you when you were still getting to know everyone in camp. When he notices you and Charles talking together amicably, he gets an idea and can't let it go. He only hopes that you would be willing to go along with it. 

Author’s Notes: Been a while, huh? Just a random idea I had late one night, and it wouldn't leave my head. So in this fic, I’m thinking Arthur is incredibly proud of you, your beauty, your energy, your everything, and wants to show you off. He secretly gets off knowing that you chose to belong with him, and that he’s being such a great guy by letting you enjoy yourself with others. He could be a possessive and selfish man, but instead, being as giving as he is, gives to you what lesser men wouldn’t be able to handle: your freedom to indulge in some fantasies, and as a byproduct, some of his fantasies as well.

Tags: hotwifing, smut, dirty talk, rough sex, blow job, doggy style, paizuri, Charles x F!Reader, Arthur x F!Reader, unedited

AO3 Link is here, my friends.

Word Count: 3589

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

Arthur took a short break after carrying around bales of hay for the horses to fondly watch his lady walk around camp, getting her own chores done. When she caught his eyes, she smiled brightly at him, just for him, and his heart leapt with joy. She had only been here a few months, but within the first week, he had made his move, uncharacteristically bold with the new gang member while she was still learning about everyone. Something about her made him nearly feral with desire.

Luckily, she had felt the same way about him. 

Now he watched as she turned her glowing smile to Charles, and he saw him nod his head to her, a gentle smile on his face in response. He would have been just as good of a partner to her, Arthur thought. He would have treated her kindly, worshipped her body just as he did—

A mental image came unbidden of her lying on the edge of a soft bed, her legs spread wide open, and Charles standing at the foot of the bed, taking her with strong, steady thrusts. He quickly shook his head of the thought, but although he turned back to his work, the idea percolated in the back of his mind. 

***

You had noticed Arthur acting a bit strangely these past couple of days. As you went about your daily routine, it seemed like he wanted to say something every time he managed to run into you, but he could only give you a simple touch on your arm and a shy smile before heading back to work. It was as if he was hiding something, and after being with him for the past few months, you had learned to read him a bit better, but you weren't even close to figuring out why he was being so dodgy lately.

You finally had enough and went to ask Charles. 

"You notice something strange about Arthur lately?" 

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow before he replied. "Does he keep looking like he wants to ask you something and then runs away?" 

"Yes!" you answered, glad that someone else had noticed. "Is he hiding something from me? Should I be concerned?" The pitch of your voice rose with every word as worry creased your features. 

"Don't worry wildflower," he said soothingly, "I'll talk to him."

You nodded, glad that Arthur had such a good friend. "Thank you."

He nodded and wandered away to look for Arthur, while you suddenly realized that he had called you by a pet name, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him. 

***

It was towards the end of the day when you saw both Arthur and Charles coming up to you. Arthur looked a bit chagrined while Charles just walked beside him with a sympathetic glance every now and again. They both stopped in front of you, and Arthur took off his hat. 

You were a bit wary because of the serious look on Arthur’s face. 

"Darlin'," Arthur started, but quickly became silent, staring at the ground for a few seconds, then glancing up at the sky as if he was praying for strength.

"Yes, Arthur? You know I'll listen to whatever it is you have to say. You'll suffer no judgement from me."

He smiled at your reassurance. "Then, would you be willin' to, um, come to the hotel. With both of us?" 

You can't say you were expecting that. Glancing over at Charles, you put two and two together. They must have talked about this before, and only now did Arthur have the courage to ask you such a thing. To be honest, before you had paired up with Arthur, you had imagined having a night with Charles, the mental images bringing heat to your cheeks. Even now, your eyes were drawn to those broad, muscular shoulders and those thick arms that could lift you with no problem. 

"Sure," you finally answered, much to Arthur’s relief. 

Charles looked satisfied and nudged Arthur with his elbow. "See? Nothing to worry about," he said before nodding towards you. "I'll see you both tonight."

He walked away to leave you and Arthur alone. You looked up at your lover, both excited and confused. He had never shown any interest in sharing you before; in fact, you hadn’t even thought of the idea yourself until they had brought it up. The question must have shown on your face, for Arthur stepped closer to you and took your hand. Looking around to make sure no one was around to notice, he took you further into the forest away from camp so he could talk without being interrupted. 

"Ask your question, darlin'," he commanded gently. 

"Were you waiting to share me? Or was this a sudden whim of yours?" 

Arthur leaned back on his heels a bit, scratching his chin. After a few quiet moments of self-contemplation, he finally spoke, low and soft. "A bit of both. Saw how friendly you was with Charles, and I'd trust him to take good care of you."

He stepped closer to you and touched your hair gently. "I'd like to watch you take your pleasure from him."

A shiver of desire ran through you. Arthur's brilliant eyes stared at you with a lustful heat, and you could swear you could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest. 

"He knows I'm sharin' you because I want to show off how beautiful you are, but only to the right people."

“People? Plural?” you asked hesitantly.

“We’ll decide together, but you get the ultimate say. I’d never make ya feel uncomfortable, darlin’.”

Nodding, you felt better about his emphasis on your choice. “Alright, I’ll… I’ll try this.”

Arthur leaned in and kissed your forehead, then pulled back to press his forehead against yours. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

***

Night fell and you were starting to feel anxious, but in a good way. You had been suppressing your carnal thoughts ever since you started being with Arthur, but some nights, when Arthur was out on a job, you’d curl up in his cot, tent flaps tied shut, and you’d shove your hand down your drawers and indulge in some of your more outlandish fantasies. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Arthur, far from it. It was just… while Arthur could make love so very well, you were a little more adventurous and wanted to experience all kinds of things.

You dreamed of being claimed by two or three men together, taking all of them deep inside of you while you came around their cocks. You even had a scandalous fantasy of John and Abigail taking you aside and using you as their personal toy. Your most outrageous idea had been born out of a stray thought, of being on your knees before Charles, John, Javier, and Arthur, all four of them stroking their long, thick shafts as they spent themselves on your face and breasts, their hands petting your hair and holding your hands as they moaned your name in ecstasy.

You shook your head. You hadn’t thought of that idea in a while. It was nearly enough to bring some wetness between your legs, and you took a deep breath to calm your heart. Charles was waiting at the hotel for the two of you, and as you joined Arthur at the horses, you smiled and waved to him, trying not to show your eagerness for tonight.

“Ready?” he asked, holding his hand out for you to mount his horse.

“Sure am,” you said easily as you mounted up. You felt Arthur settle in behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you started to head towards town.

***

“You let me know if you suddenly don’t feel like it no more,” he said gently as you got closer to the hotel.

You smiled. Arthur was so incredibly attentive and kind to you. But you wanted this. You definitely wanted this more than you were letting on. Leaning back against his strong, steady chest, you leaned over to kiss his stubbled chin. 

“I’m still feeling it, Arthur.” You reached behind you and lightly ran your fingers along the curve of his bulge. “In fact, I’m very much looking forward to both of you,” you purred.

A low chuckled reverberated through you, and the arm around your waist tightened just enough to tell you he wanted you right this second, his hand gripping you possessively.

***

“I had a bath brought up here,” Charles said as he let the two of you into the room. “Figure our lady would like a nice, relaxing wash before we have some fun.”

You smiled at him; he was just as thoughtful as Arthur, so warm and gentle when he wanted to be. As you stepped towards the bath, the two men glanced at each other before coming towards you.

“Let us undress you, sweetheart,” Arthur said, taking position behind you. 

You nodded and could only gasp as Charles came forward and kissed your cheek softly as his hands cupped your breasts.

“So beautiful,” Charles murmured before he began to unbutton your blouse slowly. The warmth of the fireplace licked at your revealed skin as he pulled the cloth from your shoulders, sliding down your arms to drop to the floor. At the same time, Arthur had his arms around your waist, undoing the buttons of your skirt, and as that fell, he was untying the ribbon of your drawers, letting them fall as well.

Charles took your hands and led you to step forward out of your pile of clothing. He looked you up and down, your chemise, your stockings, and your boots still on. To your surprise, Charles knelt before you and started to unlace your boots. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders for balance as he helped you remove them.

Arthur suddenly returned behind you, his warmth a welcome feeling to your back. He also knelt down and ran his hands down your legs as he removed your stockings one by one, tossing them aside.

Finally the only thing you had on was your chemise, and Charles turned you around to face Arthur.

“Look at him while I take this off,” Charles whispered in your ear.

You locked eyes with Arthur. He was looking at you with such a lustful curve to his lips, like you were the most gorgeous thing in the world. He was silent as Charles cupped your breasts again and squeezed you gently before moving his hands down to the hem of your chemise. You instinctively reached behind you and wrapped your arms around Charles’ neck, sticking out your chest slightly for Arthur to enjoy. You could see how his erection punched at his jeans, and he reached down to cup himself, almost as if he was willing himself to calm down so he could enjoy the whole show.

Charles slowly lifted up your chemise, giving Arthur a show of your body as he pulled it over your arms and head with your help. He flung it to ground and returned his hands to your body, caressing you up and down your curves.

“Let’s get you all clean, wildflower,” Charles said as he led you to the small barrel bathtub that had been brought into the room. Charles placed his hand into the steaming water to check the temperature.

“Perfect,” he said, and carefully let you step into the tub. You sighed happily as the hot water relaxed your body. You became more relaxed as Arthur and Charles took up positions beside you and cleaned your skin and rubbed your muscles until you were limp and pliant.

“I think she’s ready,” Arthur said, a gentle smile on his face. “Look at my girl, so relaxed.”

You looked at him and smiled back. As you were lifted out of the tub and dried off with a soft towel, you felt like a queen, being tended to with the utmost care. Then Charles carried you off to the bed and laid you down with your rear on the edge, your legs hanging off the side. Arthur sat next to you and caressed your hair.

“Now, I want you to look at me when I tell you, alright? Otherwise you can do whatever you want,” Arthur said.

“Yes sir,” you said automatically without thinking about why you said it.

Arthur let out a low moan. After a moment, he swallowed. “Didn’t know two simple words could get me so hard,” he said, chuckling softly. Resting himself on one arm, he unbuttoned his jeans and freed his aching manhood. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes on your nude body with unabashed hunger.

The sound of shuffling clothing brought your attention to Charles, and you caught your breath. He had divested himself of all of his clothes, his naked body completely revealed. He was so muscular, so well-built, and as your eyes locked onto the girthy shaft between his legs, you knew that he would make you sore the next day.

You couldn’t wait. You spread your legs almost immediately, beckoning him to come closer.

Stepping forward, he took his cock in his hands and rubbed the tip along your slit, spreading your slick around. He dipped in a little bit and then pulled out.

“You’re really tight, sweetness,” Charles said softly as he pressed a finger against your clit and began to stroke you. As you gasped and squirmed, he used his other hand and pressed two fingers inside of you, stretching you out as he continued to play with your clit.

Your hips lifted up towards his touch. “Just fuck me,” you said, panting as you were already reaching the edge.

Both Charles and Arthur laughed.

“Such a vulgar lady,” Arthur teased. “Guess we forgot to wash that dirty mouth.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, but then you gasped as you felt Charles press his cock inside of you. Inch by inch, he slowly pushed forward, and you writhed with pain-laced ecstasy, the burning stretch tempered by his steady strokes on your center that kept you from pulling away.

When he finally bottomed out after what seemed like forever, you felt incredibly full, as if his cock had completely taken over inside of you. You looked down to see where you were joined, and your eyes traveled up Charles’ abs, his chest, then to his face, where he was looking at you with a smug and sexy smirk.

“Look at me,” Arthur commanded suddenly.

You turned to him and saw his devious grin.

“Fuck her,” he said to Charles without looking at him. Arthur’s attention was only on you.

All your heard was an affirmative grunt before you were suddenly being claimed by a very large, very thick cock. You could feel Charles’ hands on your thighs as he gripped you, keeping your legs spread out so he could see himself moving in and out of your wet heat. You could feel the bed shake with every powerful thrust. You could feel your throat growing hoarse with every loud cry you made.

But all you saw were Arthur’s eyes, his pupils blown out with lust as he watched you get fucked so hard that you were breathless.

“Like getting fucked hard, princess?” he growled.

“Yes!” you screamed as Charles gripped your hips, angled himself a little differently and was thrusting into you again, hitting a sweet spot inside of you that made you grab the bedsheets and claw into the mattress.

“Say it.”

“I like getting fucked hard!”

“What a naughty lady,” Charles grunted. “Maybe you should do something about that mouth of hers.”

Arthur grinned and took off his boots before climbing onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard. As Charles pulled out of you, you had two seconds of reprieve before he flipped you over onto your hands and knees and slapped your ass.

“Go to him,” Charles ordered.

Crawling between Arthur’s legs, you let him lovingly grab a fistful of your hair and guide your lips to his cock. You licked it once, twice, before he growled menacingly.

You loved teasing him like this; that growl of his just did things to you that instantly made you even more wet. Taking the tip of him into your mouth, you started to suck on him casually, occasionally stopping to lick the entire length of cock, up and down, before taking him into your mouth again.

You saw Arthur nodding at Charles as he pulled you away from his wonderful cock. That was the only warning you got before Charles slammed into you from behind. You surged forward and let out a strangled cry of pleasure. Charles then grabbed your arms and pulled you towards him, arching your back as he fucked you in earnest, letting your ass bounce off of his hips, his pace increasing as he let your arms go, putting one thick arm around your chest so he could grab one of your breasts, while his other hand reached for your core and stroked you. 

“Look at him,” he whispered into your ear.

You locked eyes with Arthur and your heart nearly stopped. He was so blissed out, watching you with so much heat in his eyes that you swear you could catch fire. He was furiously stroking himself, his breaths coming out in labored puffs. 

“Make’er come,” he rasped. “I want to see her fall apart.”

Charles stroked you harder, faster, and his thrusts somehow felt deeper as he drove you over the edge. You screamed wordlessly to the heavens, your body going stiff for a blissful few seconds before spasming as the climax worked its way through you. Flying and falling, flying and falling, you felt like Charles’ fingers on your core would never let you go, and every time you thought he was done, he would drive into you again and draw out another shaky spasm from you until you went limp, collapsing in his arms.

He gently lay you down next to Arthur and straddled your body. He took your hand and wrapped it around his cock, then wrapped his big hand around yours. Together you stroked him until he let out a long, lustful moan as he spent himself onto your breasts. He had plenty of spend to coat your skin, and when he was done, he gingerly lifted himself off of you and collapsed at the foot of the bed, completely satisfied.

You were still catching your breath when Arthur sat up, got onto his knees, and grabbed at your hips to angle you towards him. Spreading your legs, he thrust into you smoothly; you were so wet and easy to enter.

“So damn gorgeous,” Arthur grunted as he fucked you. “So dirty with all that spend on ya. But yer my naughty lady, ain’t’cha?”

“Yes, yes Arthur!” you cried out as he pounded into you, his pace increasing with each of your cries of his name.

“You want my spend too, darlin’?”

“Yes, please, please Arthur, spend on me, make me your dirty girl, please!” you begged, no longer caring about how incredibly wanton you sounded. 

Arthur moaned at your words, barely pulling out in time before he came, thick ropes spilling from his as he left his mark all over your belly and thighs.

“You a happy lady now?” he asked after the two of you had caught your breaths, still staring at each other in awe.

“Yes, very much so,” you replied. You slowly sat up and looked over at Charles, who was comfortably lying on his side on one elbow, watching the two of you with a happy smile. “Did you have fun too?”

Charles nodded. “I did.” He looked at Arthur. “Thank you. Both of you. I really enjoyed this.”

He stood and started to get his clothes. You glanced at Arthur, but he only shrugged. “I told him he could sleep here tonight, but he said he’d rather let us have some time together.”

You turned back to Charles. “Thank you,” you said, suddenly shy despite all the things the three of you had just done.

He smiled as he pulled up his pants. Walking back towards you, he took your hand and kissed the top of it. “Anytime sweetness, as long as you two will have me.”

***

Once Charles had left, the two of you cleaned up with the now tepid water and cuddled together in the hotel room, sated and happy. As the two of you began to fall asleep, you suddenly needed to know something.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“You ever think about sharing me with anyone else?”

“...”

At his silence, you sat up to look at him in the moonlight. His eyes were closed, but his brows were furrowed, as if he were still thinking.

“Arthur…”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes, I do!”

He let out a sigh. “I realized I’m alright with whoever you want, as long as I get to claim you in the end and you say my name when you let go.”

“Why the sigh?”

“I thought… I thought I could only be comfortable with Charles, since I trust him.” He turned towards you. “But really… I just want you to be happy. So whoever you want, I’ll accept.”

Your heart swelled and you reached out to hug him tight. “I love you, Arthur.”

“I love you too, darlin’.” He held you close. “I’ll always treat you right.”

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

End Notes: Oh lord, I accidentally spawned a few other ideas in my head after writing this. We’ll see, maybe we’ll have some short smut ficlets if I feel like it!

[blurryumbrellas]

Unpopular opinion: Dutch had regrets during events of Ch.4 - Mid Ch.6

'n Dutch haters come at me all you want but he's my comfort character so there...

⚠️SPOILERS FOR RDR2 BELOW THE CUT⚠️

After the trolley incident in chapter 4, there is a shift in Dutch's behavior and just the way he is. Dutch hasn't always been a nice person, IF he's even been that. However, he was a man who would usually not think before his actions. Once meeting Hosea, Hosea was the one who kept Dutch in line (for the most part; hinting at going after Bronte, Hosea tried to stop Dutch there but there wasn't much more the poor man could do to stop his friend.) This made Dutch more of a man who thought before he acted, this maybe becoming a habit of his once being with Hosea for so long...

But after "Banking the American Art" mission in the end of Ch.4, that’s when we saw Dutch really start to go, becoming the more cold and suspicious man we know him as in RDR1. Without Hosea, Dutch had started to become undone. That being said. A friend of mine reminded me of how in the beginning of the end (Ch.6) Miss Grimshaw may tell Arthur that someone has smashed the donation box. Now it can be implied that the good ol'camp rat Micah had done it, for whatever reason he felt so inclined to, however I have a theory, not that its a grand one but still...

I'd like to think that there was a point where after the trolley incident, Dutch became more of a man based on acting before speaking once more. Since Hosea was gone and Micah was there to fill that void, Mr.Bell only pushed Dutch on to commit more violence than to help the gang along; Really, to only help the two of them rather than the gang itself. But amidst all that, I think there we're moments where Dutch had much regret of his actions. He hated to see the man he was becoming again, but he couldn't do anything to stop that, for there was no proper person to guide him in the right direction after Hosea’s passing. I'm unsure as to exactly why but, I feel this rage and separation between the gang, the untrust, the disloyalty, etc. And maybe even Dutch's questioning and confusion towards himself, Arthur & John, caused him to go over the edge, smashing the box and maybe putting the money aside in the chest, who knows.

Dutch felt like he was beginning to break everything he touched, but could not fix it without Hosea's help. So he turned to Micah out of desperation to fill that void rather than Dutch working on things by himself. Again, this is just me kinda blabbing, maybe projecting a bit, I dunno. But I thought it was a thought interesting enough to post. Let me know whatcha think! 🥭💵

[yes-i-have-thoughts]

Veteran AU

Basis: BATIM/RDR2 Inspiration: I played RDR2 again, from the beginning Did anyone ask for this: No Are they getting it anyway: Yes Hotel: Trivago (TW for mentions of cults, war and religion)

So. Our main cast. We’ve got Henry, the soft-spoken war veteran who tried to stay under everyone’s radar; Bendy the midgit child whom Henry saved from some demonic activity but apparently wasn’t fast enough, as there’s something a little off about the kid that only gets worse the longer you look at him; Alice the slightly-less-of-a-midgit girl who was also saved by Henry due to some religious nuts thinking she was the second or third coming of god (and she later proved they weren’t wrong but they weren’t exactly right either); and Boris the wolf. He’s a wolf. End of.

This little found family found each other in...Interesting ways. Aside from Bendy and Alice’s rescues (which wound up soaking Henry’s hands in blood and as such got him on a wanted poster), Boris was saved by Bendy after the poor woofer got caught in a trap and he followed him all the way back to their little campsite before collapsing from his wounds. Henry didn’t have the heart to let the poor bugger suffer but Bendy was already attached to him so he put him back together as well as he could, nursed him back to health, tried to release him and wound up finally relenting and adopting him when he followed him back to camp three times. Where Bendy goes, Boris goes.

There’s a horse in the equation too. Two of them. Henry’s horse is a fuckin’ massive black Shire named Großer Typ (pronounced “groser two”, German for Big Guy) and the red roan Tennessee Walker Alice and Bendy share (much to the little guy’s chagrin) has two names from both her riders: Alice calls her Jacqueline (may God protect) and Bendy calls her Empusa (named after the demon that supposedly eats travelers and has a brass leg and the leg of a donkey). She responds to neither. (Bendy wants his own horse, or even a donkey, but they have neither the money nor the space. Besides, he’s got a pet. Alice doesn’t. He has no place to bitch, let her have the horse leeway)

The trio don’t really go anywhere special, they mostly seem to just kind of muck around. Henry hunts animals for their fur to get money for them to move fuckin’ anywhere but where they are now, Alice helps out by keeping an eye on Bendy and looking after the chores, Bendy’s in charge of the resident wolf and Boris does what Boris does best: eat food. Thank god he can hunt for himself, at least.

They’ll end up with the main gang eventually, but I haven’t figured out how, why or when and I don’t know if I’ll ever touch this again so work that little detail out yourself if you’d like Anyway! Random tidbits!

- Bendy and Alice’s ages are somewhat ambiguous. Bendy’s about 6-7 years old, Alice is 10 or 12. As for Henry and Boris, they’re 57 and 2 respectively. - Henry draws. Every day. Pretty well, too, even if the drawings are a little cartoony. Alice keeps bringing up that he could sell some for money but it would also draw attention to him which is the last thing he needs right now - Bendy’s desperate to make friends his own age, but the kids never seem to like him. Poor little snot’s lonely. Boris and Alice are good company but they can only do so much, y’know? - Alice also wants friends her own age but she’s owned up to the fact she’s probably stuck maturing faster to look after her adoptive brother and the horses. - (Henry really wants to give these kids a break and let them be kids again, at least for one day) - Henry’s a war vet (hence the AU name) and hasn’t walked away from it too well, which kind of makes shooting guns a living Hell but they can’t really live off nothing but berries and herbs - Bendy wants to learn how to hunt with him. He’s probably gonna get his wish, he already knows how to handle a gun - Bendy and Alice may give Henry a bit of grief at times but they do see him as their father-more so Bendy, who was taken from his birth parents as a baby and grew up in a cult so he has no idea who they are or were. Alice remembers her birth parents but despises them since they sold her into her background’s cult - As said before, there’s something...Weird about Bendy. It’s hard to tell what at first glance, he just looks like a normal kid that just so happens to have big black eyes. Very big black eyes. His eyes are way too big. Does he have sclera, or is it just black? Does he have fangs? Is that a cowlick in his hair or does he have horns? Did his hands always look so sharp? - Bendy named himself with the first word that popped into his head. He noticed that Typ’s neck was pretty “bendy” and Henry asked for his name at the same second so that’s what he blurted out. It doesn’t stop Henry from calling him Ben or Benjamin, but he introduces himself as Bendy and corrects others if they call him anything else. - Alice came with her last name (Angel) but named herself much the same way Bendy did--line of sight naming. Whatever her name was in the past, she prefers Alice or even Allison. (Also the name Susie makes her flinch. Who knows why...) - Bendy also named Boris after a character in a book he was learning to read. He’s the nicknamer, that one, Henry’s started letting him name everything since all the names he comes up with suck - Henry was born and raised in Germany before moving to the US as a young adult. Now it seems he’s taking the reverse path; he’s aiming to get Bendy and Alice (hopefully Boris too) to Germany so they can live a more normal life. - Bendy LOVES learning German and constantly nags Henry to teach him new words. He roped Alice into it as well and after about half a year the main language in the camp was German, English only being used for Boris’ and the horses’ sake - When push comes to shove, Bendy will run to either Alice or Henry. If it goes beyond shove they both run to Henry. He’s their surrogate dad and they seem him as a kind of protector, a role he takes very seriously - Alice accidentally found out that Henry was married once and had two kids. She asked him what happened and he dodged the question, asking her how the Hell she found out in the first place. He wasn’t angry, but he was a little intense and seemed to be in a bad mood for a while after that. Alice made a mental note to find out anyway-but avoid asking him about it, since it was clearly a touchy subject...

[hollywood397]

Leads Back to You (John Marston x Abigail Roberts)

I was inspired by this piece of art @the-mill-kat at did!!! John and Abigail’s reunion after the events of the RDR2 mission “Red Dead Redemption”. Please enjoy! Title inspired by “Compass” by Jamie Lidell

Warnings: none! Word count: 1.1k

The moment John Marston slid off the “borrowed” horse his body threatened to crumple over top the muddy ground. His right hand went to his left shoulder, holding onto the throbbing appendage. He paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the are around him for any sign of leftover Pinkertons. The freshly risen sun burned his tired eyes, but he kept searching for any lingering threats. Copperhead Landing was an open, swampy area but that didn’t mean it was safe. After the hell he’d just endured, all John wanted was his family not another battle. He searched some more before settling his eyes on the dilapidated, broken down shed that sat at the equally shoddy pier. A false sense of energy shot through his aching bones when he recognized the two horses standing nearby.

“Abigail!” His throat burned as he shouted for her. His boots suddenly felt heavier than ever as he drudged them through the mud to get closer to the shack. “Jack?” He hollered for his son next. God, just the thought of holding the child again was all that got him off that mountain. John felt his energy begin to dwindle once more the longer his cries went unanswered. Arthur promised that they were here, where were they? “Abi?” He tried again, voice breaking. His shoulders bowed while his eyes locked onto the shack. The moment hopelessness started seeping into his mind, he saw movement.

“John?”

“Abigail!” The backs of his eyes stung with tears of relief. Just the sound of her voice brought him such comfort. He shuffled his way towards the direction of her voice. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop but he didn’t care. There was more movement from inside the broken-down shed. Desperate shuffles filled his ears, along with hushed whispers.

“Sadie, let go of me!” Came Abigail’s frustrated voice. He couldn’t help but laugh. Sadie Adler was a smart woman he didn’t blame her for trying to be cautious about his arrival. Before John could try to explain that he was alone, his woman came into view. His heart nearly stopped when he caught sight of her. Dark circles were nestled under her reddened eyes, her blouse messy and askew. Her hair fell loosely against her shoulders, the hair pins she used to keep it at bay hanging from the ends. In the course of the battle against the Pinkertons, Micah and his crew, John almost forgot how breathtakingly beautiful she was. Abigail opened her mouth to say something but quickly shut it. John tried his hand at words next, but he couldn’t muster up a single syllable. All of a sudden, she started to run towards him.

He let go of his shoulder and rooted his feet into place just mere moments before her body crashed into his. The impact hurt like a sonuvabitch. He welcomed it. Abigail’s arms linked around his neck as she stuffed her face into the crook of his shoulder. “My darling.” He cooed into her ear as he grabbed hold of her. She fit so perfectly in his arms, John couldn’t believe he’d ever pushed her away. He had been a fool to do so.

“Arthur said, he said—” Abigail stammered through her shaking sobs.

John knotted his fingers into her already tangled hair and held her tighter. “I know, darlin’. I know.”

She lifted her head to look up at him. Her cheeks were soaked with tears. “You really here? Am I dreamin’?”

The hand in her hair moved to wipe away her tears. “You know I’ll always come back to you, Abi.”

Abigail laughed. “You and your sweettalk ain’t gonna get you outta trouble for scarin’ me and the boy half to death.”

John’s lips twisted into a grin. “I love you, Abigail.” He didn’t give her time to respond before bringing his mouth to hers. She melted into his arms, hanging desperately onto his shoulders. He swallowed the wince from her grip. He wasn’t nearly ready to let her go.

“Pa!” A small voice screamed. It seemed that their son had other plans.

The couple parted and looked behind them to find the four-year-old doing his best to run through the sloppy mud. Behind Jack Marston stood Sadie Adler, arms crossed and a remorseful look on her face. John knew he would have to break the news about Arthur and what happened on the mountain. After he reunited with his family and figured out their next step, he would tell them. But it could wait until later. “Jack!” He returned his son’s holler. He let go of Abigail only to scoop Jack into his arms. Tiny arms flew around his neck.

“I told Mama you’d find us! She didn’t believe me!”

John laughed breathlessly. “I would go to the ends of the Earth to find you two.”

The little boy’s face lit up with a toothy grin. “Where were you, Pa?”

“Just had to finish up some business, son. Don’t you worry about it another second, you hear?”

“Okay, Pa.” Jack’s smile couldn’t get any bigger, John thought. He couldn’t believe he’d wasted years brushing the boy off. Never again, he swore. He’d done wrong to Jack and he would give his life to make up for it. John turned to face the woman that was in all ways except legally his wife. He felt the same way towards Abigail. He’d done her wrong more than he’d care to admit. Like with Jack, he would spend the rest of his days trying to make her loyalty worthwhile.

John reached out his left arm, grunting at the dull pain the motion caused, and pulled her into the embrace. His lips lingered on her hair as a sigh blew through his body. He was a lucky man, he decided. How many men could say they had a woman as good as Abigail Roberts? A woman so fiercely loyal, so determined and thoughtful. And then there was his son. The boy lit up any room he entered with his bubbly, curious ways. John was certain that the boy was already smarter than both his parents combined. He felt so blessed to be his father and felt even luckier to be able to watch him grow into an adult.

John Marston was a man who’d made his fair share of mistakes in life. He often never learned from those mistakes, either. But as he held his family in his arms, he vowed to never repeat the ones that put them in harm’s way. His hold on Jack and Abigail tightened.

He would do whatever it took to keep his family safe, even if it killed him.

[darlingsdevil]

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 9: I Sense There’s Something in The Wind (Part 1)

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.

Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Tag list (comment to be added): @sidepuff @joelsheartache @fangirl-inthe-us @scarletpines @mikah-writes @sleepylunarwolf @mr-robot-x @shybookdragon @heughan @writer-jamie @nelliecraine

A/N: *sigh* so much has happened since I last updated. School royally beat me up, I’m constantly tired and have no motivation to write, left a toxic boyfriend! Life has not been kind to me recently but I am trying my best to live it up and learn, but at least I am doing well in school. Sacrifice your sanity to do well in school I guess. I got a guitar too.. okay now I’m just rambling. Updates will be slower as time continues. Constantly fatigued and getting four hours of sleep a night doesn’t work well.

Happy spooky season

This chapter will be in two parts since I couldn’t find the motivation to write the rest of the chapter on Halloween.

•••

Life was quiet until the festival and party, like it had been for months prior. Decorations were put up, apples were picked from the orchards just outside town, costumes were made, pumpkins carved, ghost stories told. The festival was only two days, the first day being the children’s night and day activities, the second being the Halloween party.

Maria gave everyone who’s job wasn’t totally necessary the day off. Which meant the bar closed. You were more than happy to have two days of rest. You purchased two pumpkins this year, carving a ghost into one and a goofy face into another, you were going to light them the night of the party. The first day of the festival — children’s night, where the kids threw a mini parade around town in their costumes and carved pumpkins and got a free bar of candy from the confectionar. They played games, ghost in the graveyard being a popular one when it got dark outside, of course however, Maria limited their playing field. You watched the parade during the day and then you went home. The kids made makeshift noise makers and adults lined the streets as the kids walked by, laughing, smiling, shouting, it was all good fun.

You weren’t sure whether you were going to dress up or not, no ideas came to mind. Last year you went as an angel and a devil with Mark, hence his nickname Devil Boy, his birthday was October 30th, the first day of the celebration.

Today was his birthday. You hadn’t spotted Joel or Ellie at the parade, you briefly said hi to Maria and Tommy, as well as Dina. You were sure Ellie and Cat were dreading cleanup, as well as the other teenagers. You wondered if Ellie and Dina had made up yet, or had her and Cat.

After the parade, there wasn’t much to do. You took down the flowers on your porch, you trimmed the bushes outside, cut the grass, washed the windows, dusted the house, scrubbed the floors. Your house was beginning to feel lively again, like a brand new fresh start. It took a few hours to complete all your tasks, taking short breaks in between. By the time you were finished, night had fallen. You were nervous about tomorrow, were things going to end up like the last night you had spent with Joel? Mark was gone.. you didn’t need to worry about him. Were you ready for that? Sure, you had asked for him to take you.. but were you ready to go that far? There was uneasiness between both of you, feelings wouldn’t change that. You would have to talk, have him listen, pray he would understand. Was now a good time to tell him everything?

You rested your hand over your bump as you sat on the couch, watching an old soap opera you had on DVD. The baby was definitely getting bigger. It was hard to think about it, but a small part of you was excited. There was the thought of names, baby clothes, toys. You wondered if it was a girl or boy. It was strange to think of a baby who looked like Mark.. it would be hard to look at the baby and not see him in his final moments. You already occasionally thought you saw him for a fleeting moment, down the corner of the street, in the crowd of the filled bar, a passerby holding themself the same way he did.

How would you even tell Joel? There was so much you needed to say, there was time, there was just too much that needed to be said. Joel had enough on his plate, maybe you wouldn’t tell him at all and continue on for the rest of your life blissfully ignoring him. That was too cruel though. Your relationship with Joel was.. complicated. You left things off for three months on an unfinished note, at least he was open to going on a date with you.

There were other people to tell too. If you gave birth, people would begin asking around for Mark. The truth would come out eventually. You always knew it would. Perhaps you will have thought of a lie by then. Perhaps he left to join a group of free spirited clicker killing hippies. That seemed like a good enough lie as any.

But for now, you wanted to rest. You wanted to sit back and watch the tide roll in, without a worry in your mind.

•••

“Welcome miss..?” The man began.

“Y/N,” You replied, reaching out your hand to shake his.

“Tommy. Welcome,” He smiled warmly. You had finally found the esteemed settlement after weeks of travel.

“Mark,” Mark said, shaking Tommy’s hand, marveling at the sight of the town. Tommy had stopped you while you checked in and got acquainted with the town, already having a talk with Maria.

“Where you guys coming from? Always good to see some new faces round here.”

“I’m from Denver,” Mark told him.

Tommy’s face paled very slightly, not even you or Mark noticed.

“How are things there? Heard some stuff went down a while back.”

“Not too sure, I left right when things got messy.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“And you?” Tommy looked towards you, waiting for your response.

“Oh, all over. Living on my own last few years, besides Mark here of course.” You beamed at Mark.

“How did you two meet?” This was starting to sound more like an interrogation, but you pushed it to the side, they were only being cautious. Maria already heard your and Mark’s story, others would want to as well.

“I found her a few months ago, passing through a town when I saw a group get overrun by a horde. I was trying to hide in an apartment building when I fell right into her camp. Almost blew my head off, but hey, gotta stay sharp,” Mark chuckled.

“He told me about a settlement up in Wyoming, I decided it was worth a shot so we ended up here, had nowhere else to go,” You finished.

“Well glad you two made it safe and sound, welcome to Jackson.”

You woke up in a coldsweat, dazed from sleep. Your hand on your bump, you realized, you must have done it in your sleep.

Mark. His baby. You glanced over at your clock. 11:34 PM. Technically still his birthday.

Last year, you managed to find vintage band posters for him for his birthday. You made him cake too, then you snuck out and went to the lake and watched the stars. They looked different than what you remembered, even though you lived under them, there was something serene about being there. Silence, waters reflecting the moonlight, and stars, the only thing you could see for miles. It was peaceful, quiet, yet it was full of life.

And so when you found yourself climbing the steps into his loft, sitting on his dusty bed with his dog tags resting on your neck, the moonlight streaming in from the curtains, just a sliver open, far enough to see a star. Perhaps they looked the same, maybe they were the same. Maybe you were the one who had changed.

“I’m pregnant,” You whispered into the silence.

“I’m pregnant and it’s yours, Mark.”

No echo, no cabinet slamming shut down stairs, no creaking footsteps. Silence.

“Happy birthday,” You said out loud as you closed the door.

•••

The night of the party, you lit your pumpkins when it got dark and headed to Joel’s house. You hadn’t seen much of him since he had been over, you talked to him briefly one morning, but your schedules were always conflicting. You were nervous about seeing him. Being close to him again.

You found an old cat costume from years ago. A cat headband, a clip on tail, all black clothes. It was simple enough. Since you had been wearing Mark’s dogtags so much, you decided to opt with them, not wearing them felt like you were missing some part of yourself. You doubted Joel would dress up, he wouldn’t be out of place if he didn’t, and you wouldn’t be out of place in your costume either. It was 50/50.

You were surprised to see pumpkins out by Ellie’s house as you entered through the gate, your heart strumming loudly. It looked like she had carved some strange face into a pumpkin, you would have to ask her what it was supposed to be later.

You knocked on Joel’s door, starting down at your shoes, the cold air nipping at your skin. He answered almost immediately.

“How do I look?” You said smugly, turning so he could see your tail, doing a little twirl as you did. He wasn’t wearing a costume — like you expected.

“Dashing. You ready to go?” He smiled.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

It was an exceptionally short walk to the church and bonfire. Jackson was a small city, especially considering Joel lived right next to Main Street. They had decorated the streets quite nicely, pumpkins, hay bales, corn stalks, squash, a warm glow seemingly in every window. The leaves twirling around like fire.

The church came into view, the bonfire in the backyard of the church. Groups of people walked in, you could hear the music from here. Joel walked close to you, which you noticed. Close enough, but far enough to not be super suspicious.

He held the door open for you, the music becoming loud as he did. Mark told you once that he loved the rhythms of music, that he could feel the pulse in him, that’s why he liked music so much. Perhaps you could get the person in charge of music to play Bill Withers..

Shit. What if someone asked about Mark? Would they notice? What would you even say? That he was sick? How long until someone would really go looking for him?

Would Joel notice your small bump? You tried to wear baggy clothes. You didn’t have to worry about Maria spilling your secrets — she was trustworthy.

Inside of the church, the party was booming. It smelt of cinnamon and leaves, whiskey and good times. It seemed like all of Jackson was there. People in simple costumes, others dressing normally. You spotted Maria and Tommy, Tommy nodded at you two when you entered.

The song they played was very folksy and upbeat. A crowd had already started dancing, you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face. No sign of Ellie, but you did spot Cat, as well as Jessie and Dina. On opposite sides of the room of course.

“So, what do you want to do? Drinks?” Joel asked as he led you to the side of the room.

“Oh no, I’m good for now, but don’t stop yourself from getting one.” .

“Sure thing,” Joel replied, setting off to the makeshift bar table that was set up.

You watched the people dance, remembering how Mark used to pull you into the circle.

“Come on Y/N! It’ll be fun!” Mark laughed, trying to pull you over to the circle.

“Nope. I’m not doing it.”

“Well you’re going to. I don’t care, you have to.” He yanked you forward, pulling you to the dancefloor.

You stood stiffly as a rock. You felt like every eye in the room was on you, even though you really knew they could care less, caring more about nursing a drink or trying to hear the latest gossip.

The music was upbeat and fast, good dancing music. He slowly began to dance, one eyebrow cocked to invite you to join him. The room was orange and bright, it seemed like it was glowing.

“Come on,” He said with a singsong tone. Grabbing your arm and shaking it to the beat.

His dancing became more loose and free, smiling the entire time, a twinkle in his eye. He took your arm and twirled you and leaned you into his arms.

“It’s pretty easy.”

“Not for me,” You grumbled as the music ended.

A slower song came on and Mark groaned, his devil horns tilted slightly on his head. “Alright, looks like we have to slow dance now.” He grabbed your arms and locked them around his neck, then placed his hands on your waist. His hands were like tiny firecrackers on you, every touch sparking as his fingertips gently rubbed against your hips. He was passion.

“You know it’s easier if you just give in.”

“Never,” You hissed playfully.

“Well then just sway with me. That’s all we gotta do, sway,” He told you softly. You rolled your eyes, but you gave in.

The music channeled through him. You liked watching it overcome him, his eyes becoming distant like the music was speaking to him.

“Do you think everyone is looking at us?” You asked, glancing around the room.

Mark gently returned to the surface, “Why would they be looking? Only you and me and the music right now.”

You fought the urge to kiss him. You didn’t want people looking. You had kissed him so many times before, but there was that nagging feeling in you. Like a shadow that trailed you. A thought pushed to the back of your mind.

As if on cue, Mark’s eyes trailed lower to your lips, he leaned in gently to you, as if he were to break under your touch. His lips met yours and a heavy feeling underneath a spark set in. An undercurrent of rapid waters that threatened to pull you under.

Who was watching you?

Joel came back with his drink, a glass of whiskey.

You glanced over at the drink, humor in your voice, “Heavy hitters so soon?”

Joel chuckled lightly, taking a sip from his drink.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” He asked you. You shook your head.

“Alright well a few more drinks and I’ll be out there on the dancefloor in no time.”

“Didn’t take you as much of a dancer, cowboy.”

“Oh, I’m not. More like a dying chicken with its head cut off,” He laughed, shaking his head. Couples bounced to the music. You couldn’t remember ever having seen Joel dance, then again at parties you were almost always preoccupied.

“Do you want to head outside to the bonfire?” You asked him, seeing the glow through the windows.

“Yeah.”

You led him to the backyard where the more mellow crowd was. It was crisp outside, and awfully cold, you wished you would had brought a better jacket.

The sky was crystal clear and the stars were brilliant. The only truly good thing you could think of that came out of the apocalypse was no more light pollution. The stars were true and had looked that way for years.

The fire was large and powerful, it crackled and hissed but the warmth was inviting. Groups of people chatted around the fire, Joel led you to a fallen log by the fire where you could sit.

The party chatter and the muffled sound of the music could still be heard from outside, the looming walls right next the church wasn’t the best view, but the stars were all you needed.

“Nice night, huh?” Joel asked, looking up to the sky.

“Yeah,” You said, your teeth chattering slightly. You rubbed your hands together and aimed them towards the fire. Joel had brought a jacket at least.

“Do you want my jacket?”

You blinked. “No, no, it’s fine, I’ll just uh..” You trailed off, you wanted his jacket.

Joel chuckled quietly, shaking his head. He shrugged off his leather jacket and placed it around you. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and it wasn’t just because of the fire, you turned your head away and looked down briefly.

You looked back up at the stars, receiving courage from those little stamps of light. You leaned your head against his shoulder. He was warm, he felt safe, like a blanket wrapped around you. It was a natural feeling. You pulled his jacket up so it covered your neck. You wanted to stay like this forever.

God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to tilt your head up and place a gentle kiss on his lips. You wanted to kiss him in front of the stars, you wanted to kiss him in front of the fire, you wanted to kiss him on the dancefloor. You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to feel the way he felt against you, you wanted to share that sacred feeling like you’re the only two people in the world again.

But no, you couldn’t. Three months and you ghosted him. He was rightly upset with you. There were things you had to say. But he was here now, going on a date with you, giving you his jacket. The feelings were still there it seemed. A part of you was relieved.

You let yourself fully relax, he placed an arm around your shoulder.

You stayed like that for awhile, simply watching the fire crackle and the stars twinkle. Time was no foe anymore.

In a way it felt like Mark was there too, maybe it was the fact that it was Halloween, maybe it was the strange imbalance of practically everything in your life. It felt like he was there and he was smiling at you.

Joel was smiling too.

•••

[majesty-madness]

An Outlaw’s Better Half (Arthur Morgan x reader series)

https://giphy.com/gifs/rockstargames-revolver-rdr2-reddead-5WIMcQNeu6TWoIrkfB

Summary: Y/N lost her only friends to a gang of thugs, who murdered them all. With nowhere to go, she wanders the streets only to be met with a certain cowboy. After saving her life, Arthur brings her back to camp and everyone is very welcoming. Y/N begins to think maybe this could be her new family, a real family, but how will she react when she learns that the gang that welcomed her with opens arms, steals and kills to get by? 

Chapter One

Word Count: 4000+

Warning: Angst, violence and murder, blood, cursing

Violence wasn’t something that she hadn’t experienced in all of her life of living. It was everywhere and sometimes a necessity if you wanted to survive.

There were times when she had actually used brute force to get away from a sticky situation but it wasn’t until afterward that the events would truly dawn on her. Though she never dwelled on it for long. As long as she made it out alive, that’s all that mattered.

Y/N had recently settled about a mile away from the town of Valentine, the spot was hidden by massive trees and overgrown bushes.

She wasn’t alone, a few other individuals had joined her or rather she joined them. They were a relatively small camp with only ten people. Not at all capable of taking on a whole gang by themselves but strong enough to survive.

Y/N was patching up a ripped hole in a thin quilt of hers when a woman in her mid forties, walked up to her.

“Need any help with that?” She kindly asked, taking a seat next to the young (h/c).

Y/N smiled, “No thanks, Isabelle. I think I can handle it this time. Besides, I’m not sure how you could help me with sewing anyway.”

“I could hold it for you.” Isabelle replied.

The (h/c) abruptly stopped what she was doing and plopped her hands in her lap. “Hold it?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.

“What? I meant like keep it still for ya, that’s all.” Isabelle defended. She gestured to the blue quilt in Y/N’s lap.  

Y/N let out an airy laugh, her body convulsing harshly. “Thanks but I’ve got it.” She wiped her teary eyes and continued to sew.

The older woman playfully scowled. “Alright, fine. Don’t come crying to me when you forget how to tie off the ‘nd.”

“That was one time!” Y/N jabbed back, an amused smile still plastered to her face.

There was a moment of silence, different members of the small group attending to their own chores or activities, and Y/N just remained sitting on a log that sat only two feet from her tent. Then the familiar ear shattering noise caused Y/N and Isabelle to jump up from their seats.

Other members' attention had also been directed toward the sound of the noise. But before they knew what hit them, men on horses were charging straight for them.

Y/N’s small group of people tried to retaliate but were far too late and lacked better aim.

She and Isabelle were attempting to escape when Isabelle caught a bullet to the back and crashed into the young (h/c), sending them both to go tumbling to the dirt ground.

With the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Y/N’s legs were tempted to pull her body back up and push her to start running the opposite direction but her mind quickly came to a conclusion that made every muscle in her body freeze.

If she did try to run then she would surely be killed on the spot so she did what she thought would at least give her a chance to survive. Nothing.

She laid still, right where she had fallen, and closed her eyes. Waiting. Praying that whoever was there would just go away. Especially when she heard the gunslinging gang argue with one another.

“Why did you shoot all the women?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” One man yelled.

“What’cha you talkin ‘bout?” Another man snapped back.

“We could’ve brought’em back to camp, had a good time with them but no! You had to go in guns blazing and now they're all dead!”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at this bit of information. She silently thanked the universe for giving her the wisdom to play dead.

“Oh shut up, you drunken bastard.” The one man grumbled, taking heavy footsteps away from where Y/N was lying.

Hours past. Late morning turned to early evening. The sun was beginning its descent and not once had Y/N moved from her initial position, keeping as still as her body would allow. On several occasions though, she wished she could sink into the ground below and use mother earth as her protective shell when the men wandered particularly close.

And as if the universe was answering her silent pleas, the sound of gravel and dirt crunching under someone’s footsteps shattered the silent air. “We gotta go guys! The law is gonna be on top of us!”

“Damn it! Let’s go boys!” Another man, assumingly their leader, said breaking into a full sprint to his horse.

The way the hooves of their horses made contact with the ground, it was obvious that they were leaving quickly, not sparing another glance back on the camp they’d destroyed only hours ago.

Y/N waited a few minutes just to make sure that they were really actually gone.

When she could only hear the sound of the wind rushing through the trees, she wiggled herself free from the cold, dead grasp of what once was a kind older lady.

She crawled across the ground, her body becoming covered in mud. A few grunts and groans of excursion left her mouth, and eventually she flopped down on her back when finally free.

All was silent. Not a word was spoken. Not a single animal call could be heard. Just the wind, blowing softly through nature’s livelihood.

It was an absolute nightmare.

The silence felt  like a hot knife in her chest, burning and suffocating. She was left to rewind to the events of what had happened.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she quietly cried to herself.

Was she crying for her group or for herself? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was, once again, on her own.

__________

It was night by now and the moon was in full bloom.

Arthur and John were making their way back to camp after finding out a tip they’d heard about in a saloon turned out to be a bust.

Should have known better than to listen to a drunken idiot.

“Got any idea where we can start looking for another score?” John asked, his eyes darting to the back of Arthur’s head.

Arthur shrugged. “I ain’t got a clue. But I’ll head back into town tomorrow, see if there mighta been something we missed.”

“Let me know if you hear about anything.” John replied as he and Arthur continued to make their way down the dirt road.

Arthur nodded. “I will.”

Recently, they haven't had any luck getting any money. Yeah, there was the few occasional stagecoach robberies and such but nothing that could help them move the whole camp somewhere no one would find them. That would require more money than they were able to get.

They needed to leave and soon or else things were gonna end badly for them.

“Get the hell away from me!”

Both Arthur and John raised their heads at the sound of a woman shouting.

About ten feet in front of them stood a group of men, completely surrounding a young lady.

“Stay back!” The woman fearfully hissed, holding up her knife so as to give the impression that she wasn’t afraid but anyone could tell otherwise. Especially these arrogant bastards.

“Oh come on, we just want to have a little fun.” One man smirked, licking his lips with lust coating his eyes.

He reached out to take the woman’s arm and as soon as his hand made contact, she pulled him towards her and jammed her knife deep into his throat.

The man stumbled back as he gurgled on his own blood, eventually flopping down onto the dirt ground. The rest of the group of men stared at their dying friend.

John and Arthur watched as the events unfolded, hands pressed to their revolvers just in case things were going to get messy.

“You’re gonna pay for that bitch!” Another man yelled, pulling out a gun from his holster.

However, before he could even wrap his hands around the handle, another loud boom echoed in the air.

The loud gunshot caused everyone to turn to the origin of the noise.

There sat Arthur, revolver in hand, and a thin trail of smoke seeping from the tip of the steel barrel.

“Any of you think of reaching for your guns, I’ll put a bullet in ya.” Arthur said, his voice low in tone and VERY intimidating.

He didn’t have to tell the group of men twice as they quickly scurried away.

Arthur set his revolver back into his holster and hopped off his horse.

When the young woman caught sight of the mass of the brown haired, blue eyed cowboy approaching her, she pointed her now bloody knife toward Arthur.

“Whoa there, ma’am.” Arthur immediately raised his hands up in surrender. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Heavy pants slipped past the lady’s pink lips as well as a few pained whimpers. She was dreadfully scared but based on her demeanor she was not going to let someone threaten her without a fight.

Though Arthur decided he might press his luck.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked with some variation of concern but readied himself in case the lady tried to attack him.

She hesitated but eventually shook her head. Arthur looked back to John and he only shrugged.

The cowboy took another step forward. “Are you alone?”

The lady’s eyes darted to the ground, her quivering lips and watery eyes telling Arthur all that he needed to know.

Even though she hadn’t said anything, it was obvious that this poor, fearful woman had been through some kind of trauma.

Arthur’s eyes squinted in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

The lady looked back up, her expression softening just a bit.

“You’re bleeding…” He pointed to the blood dripping from her temple then again looked back at John to see if maybe he thought there was something wrong. Though, he didn’t seem bothered by it all, in fact, he nodded his head knowing what Arthur was insinuating.

“If you want, you…” Arthur paused. “You could come with us, we’ve got some other women back at our camp that can help you get cleaned up.”

“How-” The woman finally spoke. This perked Arthur’s attention. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I saved your life. And if I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

Arthur could see the gears turning in her head as she thought through her options. Stay to die alone or get some help from a couple of cowboys? She chose the latter.

She slid her bloody knife back into her sheath and nodded. “Okay.”

Arthur gestured towards his horse that was waiting next to John, and the young lady followed behind him. She kept a considerable distance away from the man that saved her just in case he was going to try something.

He stepped up onto his saddle, pulled himself up, and swung his leg to rest on the other side then held out his hand for the lady to take.

She grasped his hand in her own and used her own strength to help Arthur lift her up on his horse. She sat side saddle, her hands resting on Arthur’s broad shoulders. It would be weird if she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Or at least she thought so.

The three individuals made their way back to camp. For the rest of the trip, no one said a word. Instead there was silence except for the occasional animal calls which Y/N made sure to admire as her mind wandered into the abyss.

From this point on, she had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her next.

Either she was actually going to get help from these strangers, get killed, or…

Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want to think of what they were capable of doing to her. Terrible things she imagined. However, even though she didn’t know these people there was this gut feeling, an instinct, telling her that maybe, just maybe they were trustworthy.

After all, this man saved her life. Anyone else would have walked by, without so much as batting an eye but not him. He saw she was in trouble and came to her aid.

Suppose there was still some good left in the world.

Arthur and John approached the edge of camp, their horses trotting towards Charles who was guarding the camp this particular night.

“Arthur. John” Charles greeted.

His eyes then wandered to the young lady seated behind Arthur. She quickly looked away from his intimidating stare. “Who’s that?”

“Someone we picked up coming back to camp.” John answered, still following behind Arthur.

Arthur hitched his horse and hopped off. He turned to Y/N and held out his arms toward her to help her off the back of his horse.

She looked down at his hands, a perplexed expression bent into her features.

Arthur bobbed his hands up and down for a second before saying, “Come on.”

Y/N hesitantly leaned forward and rested her hands on Arthur’s shoulders as he lifted her from the horse and placed her on the ground.

“This way.” Arthur said, leading Y/N towards the center of camp.

Her eyes darted around the makeshift camp, searching for anyone she’d consider friendly. Not many of them looked all that amicable but she did see some woman which she wasn’t sure that relieved her in some way or made her even more skeptical.

Though when members of the group began to form a crowd around her and Arthur, that small relief soon vanished.

“Ah, Arthur.” Dutch greeted him as soon as the stocky cowboy came into his vision. “How’re things in Valentine?”

Arthur scratched at his stubble, “Not so good. Turns out the leads were nothin’ but rumors.”

“We’ll just have to keep looking.” Dutch said and Arthur nodded in agreement.

Just then Dutch caught sight of the young lady timidly standing behind Arthur’s towering figure.

“And who is this young lady?” Dutch said strutting around Arthur to see Y/N more clearly.

Y/N’s (e/c) orbs flashed up to meet Dutch’s gaze and she found herself stepping closer to Arthur.

“This is… uh...well actually, we don’t know her name but we found her on the main road, a few men were becoming little less than friendly.”

Dutch welcomed Y/N with a smile. “Well, miss…” He paused, waiting for her to respond.

Y/N gulped, fiddling with her shaking hands. “L/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Well Miss. L/N, you are welcome to stay here with us for as long as you need.” Dutch then looked over to the girls that had conveniently gathered together. “Miss. Grimshaw. Abigail. Get Miss. L/N cleaned up and a fresh pair of clothes will ya?”

Miss. Grimshaw and Abigail nodded then stepped forward and guided Y/N away from the crowd.

Y/N let them lead her away but not before she turned her head to look over her shoulder to Arthur, getting one last glance at his blue eyes as she walked further away.

For some reason, she felt she would rather not leave him but did anyhow.

“Come this way, honey.” Miss. Grimshaw said, pulling Y/N towards Abigail’s tent.

They stepped inside the tent along with Mary-Beth and Tilly following suit.

Miss. Grimshaw turned to Mary-Beth, “Go get some water and clean rag.” She ordered.

Mary-Beth nodded and headed out of the tent.

Miss. Grimshaw turned her attention back to the young (h/c) standing patiently in the middle of the large tent. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes.” She reached out to help her but Y/N instinctively flinched away, startling everyone remaining in the tent.

They all stood with their eyes on Y/N’s stiff form. She seemed as if she were prepared for someone to attack her.

Abigail stepped just a tad bit closer. “It’s okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya. We just want to help.” The burnette reassured.

Y/N’s eyes darted from Abigail, to Miss. Grimshaw, to Tilly then back to Abigail again.

After a minute or two of waiting, the three women could visibly see the (h/c)’s body relax as she rested her arms at her sides.

“Abigail, get Miss. L/N some clean clothes. Looks like she’s ‘bout your size.” She said and Abigail agreed, walking over to a corner in the tent and beginning to rummage through her clothes to find something decent for the young (h/c) to wear.

Mary-Beth then walked in with a cool bowl of water, and a clean rag sticking out from the edge of the metal. She stood next to Grimshaw, a soft expression on her face as she made eye contact with Y/N.

Grimshaw grabbed the rag from the metal bowl and rang out the extra water the rag had soaked up over the course of the time it sat in the bowl.

When it was damp enough to her liking, she stepped toward Y/N and very gently placed one hand under Y/N’s chin to keep her head still while she wiped away the dried blood that lay against her temple.

Even though Grimshaw was usually a hard ass, she handled the scared woman with care, almost as if she were made of glass. Fragile to the touch. Which surprisingly comforted Y/N, they were much kinder than originally anticipated.

Once the blood was wiped clean, Grimshaw tossed the now blood covered rag back into the metal bowl. “Alright. You’re all good. Just get changed into some fresh clothes and bring these ones out. We’ll make sure to wash’em for ya.” Grimshaw said, gesturing to her dirt covered skirt and shirt.

Abigail walked back over, neatly folded clothing in her hands. “Here ya go.”

Y/N cautiously extended her arms to take the clothes from Abigail. “T-thank you.” she mumbled scarcely, her lips pressing into a tight line.

She wasn’t sure what to make of what was happening.

Most people weren’t so kind, and selfless. Not that she didn’t appreciate what they were doing for her because she did very much so, but why go out of their way just to help some stranger that, for all they know, could be a threat?

Guess they were willing to take that chance.

“Go on, get changed. We’ll give ya some privacy.” Grimshaw stated hurriedly gesturing for the rest of the girls to exit said tent, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.

It was a good few minutes before Y/N even thought about moving and proceeding with swapping out her clothes.

The older lady was right, she was the same size as the burnette.

There was no mirror around to check out her appearance so she just had to hope that she didn’t look too ridiculous, not that it really mattered.

She approached the edge of the tent. Her nerves getting the better of her.

What would happen once she stepped out of the confines of the tent. Nothing? Her worst nightmare?

Arthur’s words rang through her head. “If I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

If these people went as far as to clean her, bring her clothes, and overall help her then maybe they could be trusted.

Y/N closed her eyes. “Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out” She took a deep breathe then let it out in an attempt to calm her nerves.

When she stepped away from the makeshift home, Y/N immediately saw that a few men had grouped together and were discussing amongst themselves.

It was hard to tell what they were saying at first but in curiosity, she stepped closer and was able to make out what they were saying.

“We’ve got to let the girl go.” Micah said.

“We can’t just throw her out.” John intervened, annoyance palpable in his voice.

“She’s a stranger. And a threat to all of us.” Micah continued.

Arthur scoffed. “Didn’t realize you were so concerned for the rest of us.”

“I’m only thinking about the group.” Micah defended, his tone hiding some ulterior motive.

A pang of sadness rushed through Y/N as she listened in on what they were saying.

Micah continued. “I say we send the girl on her way.”

“No. I think we should let her stay with us and if she wants to leave then-” Dutch stopped when he caught sight of Y/N who was standing a few feet away.

The other men followed Dutch’s gaze, seeing that the damsel in distress had been standing right there, most likely listening in on what they were discussing.

Y/N’s expression told them all they needed to know. Her brows furrowed inward, not in anger but in sadness. Her (e/c) eyes held a thousand words, and her slightly parted mouth emphasized how she felt.

“I-”

“There you are, honey. Let me take those-” Miss. Grimshaw interrupted, causing Y/N to look at her then she took a hold of Y/N’s dirty clothes. “And let’s go find you somewhere to sleep.” She continued, and quickly guided Y/N away from the men.

As Miss. Grimshaw led Y/N away from the group of men, she caught a glimpse of that saddened expression making a home into Y/N’s features.

“Oh honey, don’t you worry ‘bout Mr.Bell. He says a lot of things but he’s all talk.”

“But he’s right; I am a stranger.” Y/N objected earnestly.

Miss. Grimshaw quickly pulled Y/N over toward a propped up tent. “Listen to me; you might be a stranger but don’t mean you ain’t decent.”

Her answer surprised the young (h/c).

The elderly woman continued. “You needed help, and we took upon ourselves to help you. Now don’t go worrying about things that ain’t gonna happen.”

Miss Grimshaw turned away grabbing an extra blanket from the back of one of the wagons then turned back and plopped it into Y/N’s arms.

“Now you’re gonna sleep right next to Mary-Beth.” The older woman spoke as she led Y/N over to a pitched tent in the center of camp.

Y/N assumed that Mary-Beth was the one already standing under the tarp that was the roof of the tent.

As soon as Grimshaw was near Mary-Beth, she started to rapidly swat her waves toward her signifying she wanted her to move over.

“Scooch over! We need to make room for Ms. L/N.”

The brunette quickly grabbed the edge of her sleeping bag and scooted over just a few inches.

“There you go, honey.” Miss Grimshaw said, looking to the (h/c).

Y/N perked up and slowly walked over to the now vacant spot and stood there for a second.

Miss Grimshaw continued. “Now lie down, get some rest, and I’m sure things will look better in the morning.” And just like that she walked away and out of sight.

The young female merely stood frozen in her spot, letting the events from the day sink in. Before she could protest, hot tears fell from the base of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Mary-Beth could notice the change in aura around this young lady, and lightly rested her hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

A sniffle was heard causing a wave of sympathy to rush over Mary-Beth. She stepped out from behind the young woman to see her face. The tears were the first thing she saw even in the black ridden night.

“Here.” Mary-Beth dug into the pocket sewn into the front of her dress and pulled out a sparkling, clean, white handkerchief.  

Y/N gently took the handkerchief out of Mary-Beth’s hand and used it to wipe the continuous tears. “I’m sorry…” She whimpered her voice cracking in the midst of her apology.

Mary-Beth managed a light hearted smile. “Sorry for what? For crying? You got nothing to be sorry for. It’s alright to cry when you’re hurting.” Mary-Beth paused. “I know we don’t know you very well and we don’t know what you’ve been through, but it’s gonna be okay. You’ll be safe with us.”

Y/N looked up at Mary-Beth and saw the genuinity in her eyes.

She wiped her eyes once more before handing the handkerchief back with a nod following soon after. “Okay…”

The brunette flashed a smile again as she took her handkerchief and stowed back it into her pocket.

Y/N turned around and backed away from her designated spot to roll out her sleeping bag. Right now, more than anything, she just wanted to get to bed, though she wasn’t sure that she would be able to sleep. Not when she was in a strange place with strange people, but she could at least try.

She laid down to cover herself up with the thin fabric to hopefully fall into a peaceful slumber.

Despite the trauma, Y/N allowed her thoughts to linger on those of her fallen friends.

They were good, and hard working people trying to make an honest living.

Trying to survive. Same as her. They didn’t deserve being shot down by a bunch of two bit thugs who cared about nothing but their own desires.

Though, that was the world they lived in. Life and death go hand and hand and sometimes it was just a person’s time to go even if it was in a brutal fashion or even if it was unfair.

Most times it was.

______

Series Masterlist

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 1 (1/4)

Okay so... I really don't know how to handle this. I’ll just try my best. 

Previously on TWoT: Emily finds herself on a cold and dark room that she soon understands to be a train car. Half frozen to death, her only thought is to get out of there and when the train is stopped by some unidentified people, she doesn’t waste time in asking them for help. Will she regret it?

Warnings: some swearing every now and then

Words: 2,9k

Chapter 1 - Part 1/4 -  Who do you think you are? 

Lenny put the rifle down and looked at the girl. What was she doing inside that carriage? Was she one of Cornwall’s associates? Why was she dressed in that funny way?

“Don’t kill me” she repeated.

He didn’t want to kill her. He might have never killed her. Cornwall’s associate or not, she was just a girl.

“What?” asked Arthur coming closer and looking inside the car.

“Ooh shit” he whispered when he spotted the blonde figure kneeling down in a prayer position.

Javier peeked inside too and then Lenny and him exchanged a puzzled look. What were they supposed to do? Leave her there? Bring her with them? They were in the middle of a job and right now she was just a complication. 

“Miss” called Arthur leaning towards her skinny figure.

“Miss” he called again when she didn’t answer.

She slowly raised her head and opened her eyes to look at him.

“Me?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes, what’s your name?”

She stared at him with those big brown eyes that reminded him of a deer. She was pretty. And scared, which made her even prettier.

“Come, come out of there” he said when he received no answer to his previous question.

He stretched out a hand expecting her to take it, but she didn’t. She eyed him from head to toe and then stood up by herself, bringing her arms to her chest in an act that stated she was freezing.

Arthur couldn’t help but notice the funny way she was dressed, and so did Javier looking at her tight pants and that shirt with the hood she had, not to mention those bizarre shoes.

“Where do you come from?” asked Arthur incapable to withhold his curiosity.

She moved her eyes from him to Javier and then Lenny, but just like before she didn’t bother to reply. That lack of answer was starting to annoy him and at the same time he started to think she was hiding something. But they had work to do, he couldn’t waste all day with a girl.

“Okay, listen, come with us, we have a camp, four walls and a roof, a place you can warm up and be safe” he said trying to convince her to get out of that damn train.

She kept studying them and the same did they. It was like they came from two different universes. At last, she took her decision, taking some steps forward and getting off the carriage.

“Come, Lenny here will give you a blanket” said Arthur leaning a hand on her shoulder and nodding towards the boy.

He wanted to show her to Dutch, he would surely know what to do with her. 

...

As soon as she stepped out she immediately noticed the snow. Show! In May? How could that be possible? 

The wierdo with the blue coat and the handsome face asked her her name and where she came from, but she didn’t answer, she didn’t want to tell them anything about her and at the first occasion she had had, her intention was to run away from that place and those people.

“Come, Lenny here will give you a blanket” said the man nodding towards the boy with dark skin.

Lenny, upon who she laid her eyes, just like the others was dressed in a very strange way, in an old way. Was she in some kind of play? A movie? Were they actors? Why were they dressed in that way and why were they looking at her like she was some kind of alien? 

There was another thing that caught her attention as she admired both their clothes and the place she was: the train. It wasn’t one of the new ones, but one of the old coal-powered locomotives. Those things were no longer working for at least fifty years, except those used in the train museums. How could it be there still was one on the trails? And, that day she had taken a normal train to go to work, a modern train, so how could it be she was in there?

The boy called Lenny was leading her to another group of men. She noticed they were all dressing in that way, with those cowboy hats, those long heavy coats and those shotguns hanging on their backs.

No, that couldn’t be real, it must have been some kind of joke. And a bad one too, because the more she was seeing, the more she was getting afraid. Who did that had a terrible sense of humor. 

“Who is this?” asked one of the men as they all turned in her direction and looked at her from head to toe. 

He had a black coat and hat and a red and white checkered kerchief on his face, which he pulled down to speak.

“Found her in one of the cars” answered the handsome wierdo from behind her.

She moved her eyes on the other men who now where following the example of the wierdo with the picnic tablecloth and were revealing their faces: there was one with a blond walrus mustache, one pretty big and one who looked like a Native American but darker. 

“What’s your name, Miss?” asked the picnic-man. 

That was the second time they called her Miss. It was a little old style, but there everything looked old style. Just like before she didn’t answer and stared back at the man asking herself what they wanted from her. She felt a couple of hands on her and jumped, taking a step away from whoever was touching her. It was Lenny, who brought her the blanket and was leaning it on her shoulders.

“Whoah! Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you” he said.

“We don’t mean you no harm, Miss. Why were you on that train?” asked again the picnic-man.

The truth was, she didn’t know.

“Are you one of Mr. Cornwall’ associates?”

Mr. who? Maybe this buddy was the other criminal, the one they were fighting, the mafia boss she pictured in her mind, the one who kidnapped her.

She shook her head vigorously.

The man who asked her all the questions sighed and then turned to look at the rest of his people.

“Okay, Lenny, take the Miss away from here. When we’re done we’ll bring her to camp” he said then putting the picnic kerchief on his face again and giving his back at her to face the other men.

“Gentlemen, let’s go back to work” he added.

To camp? They wanted to take her with them? 

“No” she exclaimed making the man turn to look at her again.

She wanted to go home, not to some God knows where camp, and to do that she had to finally break her silence. Criminals or actors or what the heck they were, she would explain them her situation and ask them to lend her one of their phones so that she could call home.

“I want to go home. Please. They took me, I don’t know how, but they must have found a way to take me. If you… if you could lend me a phone, I would like to call my mom” she said all in one breath. 

...

Dutch looked at the girl, without fully understanding what she was saying. Took her, phone, call her mom: what was she talking about?

“You’ve been kidnapped?” he asked.

“Yes, I don’t know how, but they did” she replied more firmly.

“Who’s they?” he asked again, thinking about some kind of lie she was making up to avoid being taken and questioned.

He didn’t trust her one bit. Why should Cornwall’s men kidnap an oddly dressed girl?

“I don’t know. I woke up in there and then you people stopped the train and started asking me all this questions” she replied frustrated. She looked like she was telling the truth.

“Can I borrow a phone, please? I just want to make a quick call to my mum and tell her where I am so she can pick me up” she added addressing his men behind him.

Dutch looked at Arthur, at the girl’s back, asking him with the eyes what the hell she was talking about. When he shrugged, making him understand he had no idea, Dutch exchanged a look with the rest of his men. None of them seemed to understand.

“Where you come from?” he asked to the girl. 

He preferred to change topic than reveal he had no idea of what she was saying. The girl looked a little uneasy to divulge this information, but in the end she said: “Saint Denis.”

So, she came from the city. Dutch quickly took his decision: they would have completed the job they went there for and then he would have brought the girl to camp. If she was telling the truth, they would have taken her home. A little trip to Saint Denis wouldn’t be a burden on them.

“Lenny why don’t you take her away from here. We have a job to finish” Dutch said to the boy.

On the girl’s face appeared some worry.

“We’ll all be back to camp for tonight and tomorrow we’ll take you home, Miss” he added addressing her with a soothing voice.

She seemed about to say something, but he didn’t want to waste any more time with her, he was there for something more important. He turned his back at her and addressed Cornwall’s men inside the last carriage. He had to find a way to make them get out of there without a fuss.

“Hey! Inside there! Listen to me, we don’t want to kill any of ya!” he yelled.

...

She wanted to tell him something, but the man turned his back at her and started yelling threats towards the train car. She didn’t want to go with them. Why couldn’t she just borrow a phone to call her mom? Was it so difficult to understand she had nothing to do with that Mr. Cornwall he seemed to hate so much?

Lenny pushed her away, but she didn’t move her eyes form the group of men, who now were taking pistols and rifles and charging them, while the one who she thought to be the boss kept threatening the men in the train.

“Wake ‘em up a little” he shouted and immediately after they started firing.

She jumped at the sound of the shots and couldn’t help let out a loud squeaky scream. Then, she threw herself on the ground covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes, wanting them to stop it. 

“Hey, what are you doing? Stand up, you have nothing to worry about, they’re just scaring them” said the boy of color taking her shoulders and trying to make her stand.

She shook her shoulders pushing his hands away. Why had they to use those guns so much? She reopened her eyes as soon as the noise stopped.

“Mr. Williamson, give Mr. Morgan and Mr. Smith some dynamite, you two boys, go blow that door open” ordered the gang boss.

Dynamite? Blow open? Who were those people? How could they think no-one was going to hear them and call the police? She thought that it would have taken little time for that to happen, someone who lived around there would have called the cops any time now, even though it seemed no-one lived around there, and she had no idea where “there” was.

She followed the movements of those strange men as one of them truly took some dynamite from his bag and handed it to the handsome wierdo with the blue coat, who approached the carriage with the dark Native. She kept staring at them in bewilderment while they placed the explosives, lighted them up and drew back. 

She covered her ears again just in time when the explosion happened. Those dudes were crazy! Completely out of their fucking minds!

She stood up and her knees trembled a little, but she tried not to mind it. She wanted to go away, as far away as possible from those old style insane criminals who wanted to take her with them. She took a step backwards, tightening the blanket around her shoulders and trying to turn around to run away, but the boy called Lenny stopped her. 

“No, no, listen, you have to let me go” she said looking straight at him and pushing his hands away.

“You can’t go, it’s too dangerous, with us you’ll be safe” he replied grabbing her from her arms to stop her from running.

“No, no, you people are crazy, what the fuck is wrong with you? Guns and explosives, really? Who do you think you are?” she asked starting to laugh hysterically. 

She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing, that had to be some kind of dream, but it didn’t look like a dream. Her dreams were generally confused and random, this was too real. 

She took a piece of her skin under her sweatshirt and pinched it as hard as she could. They said to do it in order to wake up from a dream, but she always thought it was bullshit, and when it didn’t work, and she found herself in that same situation, she knew for sure that it was bullshit. 

“You are quite crazy, lady, you know that?” asked Lenny watching her with perplexity.

“Mr. Summers, would you bring the young Miss here, please?” asked the gang boss raising a hand and making sign to reach him.

...

Lenny leaded her to Dutch who in the meantime had made the three men come out of the carriage and kneel down in a line in front of him.

“Go search the train with Micah and Arthur” Dutch ordered him pointing at the blown up door.

Then, he addressed the girl with no name looking at her with suspicious eyes. Now, they would have found out if she was telling the truth.

“Do you know these men, Miss?” he inquired pointing his finger to the three people.

She seemed to study carefully their appearance before shaking her head.

“And you say these people kidnapped you?” he asked again moving his inquisitive eyes from the girl’s face to Cornwall’s men. 

“Yes” she answered plainly.

Just as he expected the three men, after a quick glance at the girl, exchanged a puzzled look between them. They had no idea of who that woman was.

“Did you steal this lady, gentlemen?” he asked as the thing started to amuse him.

“We never saw her in our lives” answered the one on the right.

“But she came out of one of your cars” he said matter-of-factly.

The men exchanged another look.

“We know nothing about it” said the one on the left.

Now, Dutch looked again at the girl, who stared back at him, and it seemed she didn’t know what to say anymore.

“Did you lie to me?” he asked.

He knew that by saying this he would disquiet her, but that was exactly what he wanted: he wanted her to reveal herself for what she really was.

“No, I didn’t. I have no idea of who these people are” she replied firmly, looking at him right in the eye.

“She’s not one of ours” said the men on the left, making Dutch look at him. She wasn’t lying after all. 

“Dutch” called Arthur from behind him.

“What did you find?” he asked.

“These” Arthur answered handing him some papers. “Bonds. They worth anything?”

Just what he was looking for.

“Oh, sure. I think we can probably sell these pretty easily. Well done” he answered.

Now, there was the problem of the train and the three musketeers there. 

“Would you get rid of all of this?” he asked to Arthur.

“The train?” Arthur asked in turn.

“Yeah, and our friends here.”

“What about them?”

Dutch, fixed his eyes on Arthur’s covered face. He was sure he would have done the right thing, whichever it was.

“I don’t know. It’s up to you. Just make sure they don’t send no folk after us” he said walking towards the girl with no name.

“Come, Miss. Let’s take you to a warmer place” he added to her pushing her away.

Together with all the others they walked on the half frost ground to reach the horses. Dutch could feel the bones of her shoulder under his hand: she was pretty skinny and she must have been freezing. He had to admit she was really strange, and she still hadn’t told her name.

“What’s your name, Miss? If it’s not too much to ask” he said pulling the bandana down from his face.

She took a little before answering, moving her eyes around and maybe considering if she could trust some complete stranger. She had to, she had no choice, and they were doing the same with trusting her.

“Emily” she murmured. 

“I’m Dutch Van der Linde, Miss Emily, and these are my men. I must warn you, we are outlaws.”

As soon as he said this, she turned her head with a snap to look at him. Her big dark eyes expressed all the terror she was proving.

“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t touch a hair on your head. You see, we’re criminals, but we’re not bad men. Not when we can avoid it.”

They had finally reached the horses and pointing to them Dutch said: “You’ll ride with Lenny.”

[squidproquoclarice]

Hey Squid 👋🏻 Regarding your Sunrise AMA, what is one of your favourite moments from the story, or favourite thing about Sunrise in general? Was their a line or paragraph that stands out to you as one were you were like yes, this is good and just flowed easiest? Did you have any things that you knew straight away that you needed or wanted to write about? Also I was wondering what inspired you to have them join the Circus? And what do you think their kids jobs would be when they grow up? (I probably have a dozen more but I will just leave it at that for now 😊 ty!)

Heya!  Let’s see.  Since we’ve got multiple questions, I think I’ll leave the favorite moment(s) question for someone else to ask.   Favorite thing about Sunrise: I started it a few days after finishing the game.  From the savefiles and my chapter 1 posting date, it was only four days.  Obviously Arthur touched something emotional within me, like he did for a lot of people, and seeing Sadie so cold, alone, and fatalistic in the Epilogue hurt too.  I wanted to see if I tried to write what could have happened after that fight on the ridge where it might lead.   So I guess my favorite thing about Sunrise is that it debunked the assumption that Arthur had to die for the story to work or matter.  I wrote a journey for him and for Sadie that a lot of people connected to and told me that meant a lot to them to see them thrive and heal.  Characters don’t need a tragic ending to be deeply meaningful.  Characters don’t have to die for redemption.  It’s not somehow more artistically pure or daring to kill someone off.  I didn’t break RDR1 by writing Sunrise, and I made the plot beats of the RDR2 Epilogue work.  So Arthur’s death also frankly wasn’t necessary for plot integrity towards the events of 1907 and 1911. A line or paragraph that I really enjoyed writing: I’ll go with one early on, from chapter 6, “Death Is A Woman”, that actually gave the chapter its title. He managed a low, dark chuckle at that, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His lungs gave a bit of a grouchy hitch at it. “Newsmen are a different breed of confidence men and liars, that’s all. Anyway, I’m sure Death’s got to be a woman, Sister, cause it seems even she won’t have me.” That one made me feel like I really finally nailed Arthur and his character and state of mind in the weeks right after he’s had his entire life and identity knocked out from under him.  But of course he has to couch it in a self-deprecating quip.  Also kind of a funny line in retrospect because I hadn’t planned anything with Death/The Strange Man cropping up in the story at this point, but apparently Arthur’s wrong and Death is not a woman in RDRverse.  ;)   Things I immediately needed or wanted to write about: Giving Sadie a voice and POV to show what was going on in her head.  Beyond that, giving both of them the respect of acknowledging their PTSD, but doing my best to let show what trauma recovery really looks like, and showing that it’s possible.  I didn’t want to either shrug it off as inconvenient to a happy ending, or else treat them like permanently broken things.  I wanted it to be a journey.  When it came to Arthur’s TB, I also wanted to write something realistic and accurate to the period in terms of his recovery rather than just sort of handwaving it.  Historical medicine’s an interest of mine, so this was a good chance to explore some of that.  Joining the circus: This is one of the rarer instances where the tail sort of wagged the dog and I had to make something fit to an immovable future plan.  I had them in 1904 having claimed a homestead up in Canada that needed to be settled and improved within three years.  And I knew for 1907 Team Griffith needed to be in the five-state area of the RDR2 map in order to be involved in the Epilogue.  I could have had them go back to Chuparosa and continue eking out a living, and debated pushing them back on the bounty hunter path to put them being sometimes in those American states that would let them cross paths with the Marstons somehow. Didn’t really like it.  Given how averse they were to bounty hunting together with two very young children at home, how Sadie absolutely wasn’t going to be the little wife sitting at home and letting Arthur go alone into danger as an alternative, and how much they both liked the idea that they no longer needed to live that sort of life, it felt like I needed something else.  And it needed to be something that they could walk away with no offense taken from in three years.  In retrospect, I could have had them hire on at MacFarlane’s full time rather than seasonal and developed that bond even more, but I ended up coming up with a circus that folds in 1907 as a good alternative.  Given they’re ace riders and crack shots and pretty fair actors, that Arthur was very used to a nomadic lifestyle, that circus folk are great actors and can deal some mild well-meaning trickery as part of the delight, that they were fairly egalitarian for the time, and that traveling circus folk sort of existed as a quasi-disreputable and tightly knit “outsider” group, it felt like a neat chance to mirror the gang, but in a positive way.  So with the circus, I got to write Sadie and Arthur getting to live the best version of that kind of life, and sort of coming to peace with more of the past by it.  Proving the things they missed about the gang weren’t the robberies or Dutch’s antisocial philosophy, but the people they loved and the freewheeling lifestyle.  Also proving that while they enjoy that life, they do both really want to have something more settled and put down solid roots.  Sadie misses that, and Arthur yearns for it as something he’s never had. Also noting I hadn’t planned at all on Arkady Rudenko when I wrote Sadie and Arthur performing as the “Cossack Karolovs”, and I only realized that connection after I’d written the final chapter.  Guess my unconscious brain knew more than I thought even back then, though I’d only earmarked a few months before that final chapter trying to possibly work in the interesting fact of Ukrainians being a very prevalent immigrant group to the Canadian prairie provinces at the time.  But yeah, as an actual Cossack kid, Archie’s probably going to laugh his ass off. Kid’s jobs: So I actually have a short scrapped bit that I didn’t include as an extra document at the end of chapter 88, though I debated it.  I like the piece, but I wanted to leave it with Sadie and Arthur’s journal entries and the circle of things being sort of complete. It’s a preface to a book called “Red Dead Redemption” written by Jack--who’s become a writer of a fairly famous radio play turned TV serial--in the ‘60′s once all the OGs are finally gone and he feels safe to tell that story.  It mentions that the illustrations were done by his wife, Bea.  So yeah, Bea got Arthur’s artistic talent, and by submitting her work as “B.M. Griffith”, she managed to get some illustration jobs that would have been denied to her as “Beatrice”.   Mattie (Matt as he grows older), becomes a doctor.  He’s already got the caring heart and desire to heal and help people.  He’ll likely end up helping Felipe out as a teenager and learning some of the ropes there before going to college. Susie ended up becoming a teacher.  There were definitely still strictures at the time against married women working as teachers, so if/when she got married (and I think if so, she did it later in life) she’d have been expected to retire and effectively become a housewife.  But she’d still keep teaching as a tutor.  Andy, with his energy and love of horses and the outdoors, actually shows a passion for farming and ranching.  So he’s the one who ends up running the day-to-day of Paradise Run as the next generation.     Feel free to keep up with the AMA with those further questions!  Might be better to send them in individually, though, as this one got pretty long.  ;)

[verai-marcel]

Holiday Surprise (RDR2 Fanfic, Charles x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Charles have been together for a few months, but after the two of you officially got together, all of your couplings had been rather soft and sweet. Despite how nice it was with him, you wanted something naughtier, something rougher, something more. And you knew exactly how to get it from him.

Author’s Notes: Secret Santa gift for my dear @fangirl-ramblings! A little naughty Christmas story about getting railed by a very giving, very loving Charles Smith. I’d say this takes place in 1907, after the events of the game, while Charles is making his way north towards Canada.

Tags: Charles x F!Reader, smutty smut smut, holiday feels, probably some holiday anachronisms, tied up wrists, light bdsm, some spanking, rough sex, doggy style, creampie

Word Count: 3139

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

You were a fiery, passionate woman, with the wits and cunning for making money from any situation, although you drew the line at taking advantage of the poor and pitiful. Anyone else, however, was fair game. It was with this mindset that you had tricked dozens of men who fell for your charms, believing that you would spend a night in their arms. Instead, you just drugged their whiskey and left town with their cash stuffed down your corset as you traveled to the next town, galloping away on your horse and howling in victory.

But then you met your match, when, on your way through Montana, you ran into a man with black hair, a dark complexion, and the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen. His face had scars that told an intriguing tale, and you had longed to trace every line. 

With every intention to fuck and run, you seduced him, riding his thick cock under the river of stars on a summer’s night. The sounds of your pleasure enraptured him, and he breathed your name as if it was his final prayer to the heavens as he spent himself all over your soft skin. When he awoke, you were gone, with his purse in your possession and lingering regrets in your heart.

He tracked you, chased you to the edge of the country, and when he finally caught you, he kissed you before picking you up and taking you into the forest, away from the road where a passerby might see you.

“Did you really think you could get rid of me, wildcat?”

You were taken then, hard and fast on the forest floor, giving in completely to his wanton possession. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, you screamed his name as you let go, your release taking over your body, your heart, your soul.

“Charles, Charles!”

He tied you down with ropes and dark, carnal words, and you never, ever, wanted him to let you go.

***

A few months later, the two of you had become inseparable. Charles was a good man to you; he treated you as an equal, able to do the same amount of work, if not the same type. And he never disrespected your abilities. Currently, the two of you live in a small cabin on a ranch in Montana where the two of you had met. 

You had changed your ways, using your wits to help with logistics at a ranch, helping with scheduling deliveries, while Charles worked with the animals. His gentle touch had him working with the cattle and horses the most, and while that meant long hours, he still made time to take care of you almost every night, whether it was making you a meal if you were tired, or giving you a massage to relax you on nights when you had to do a lot of paperwork.

Many nights, his gentle care turned into slow love making, his hands and mouth worshipping your body until you pushed him down and rode him passionately, taking every last drop of him. But he never fucked you the way he did that night. He never tied you up, even when you begged for it. Sex was fun, but your thoughts always strayed back to that one night when he lost his calm and fucked you like a raging beast, holding you down, stuffing you full of his thick shaft  over and over again until you cried from the number of times you released around him.

You hated to say it, but you longed for more passion, more lust from him. Charles was like a cute puppy, always eager to please you, but you knew deep inside of him, a wolf was just clawing under the surface, ready to leap out and dominate you. Perhaps he was afraid that he’d hurt you, or that he’d scare you with the intensity of his desire. However, you were not afraid; rather, you wanted to see this side of him, wanted him to lose control like he did that night.

You just had to bring it out of him.

With Christmas fast approaching, you were making secret preparations, on top of the small holiday dinner the two of you were already planning. Working on this ranch meant the two of you had your own little cabin on the land so you could be close to the barn, with relative privacy. For fun, you had decorated the walls with strings of popcorn and wreaths made with pine tree branches and pine cones. Charles had helped you hang your decorations, and had gathered whatever items you needed to make your home just a bit more festive. He got extra candles from the general store, cut a portion of a pine tree and brought it inside for you to decorate. He even bought you ingredients so you could make star-shaped cookies to adorn the tree.

He got you everything you wanted, except for one thing. You hoped that your secret gift would entice him into giving you exactly what you wanted.

***

“All done for the day?” you asked as Charles came in from the snow on the evening before Christmas, stamping his boots before taking them off.

“Yup. Cattle are all settled, horses are safe in the barn with enough hay for a few days.” He took off his coat and hung it on the coat hook next to the door, patting off the accumulated snow. “Looking forward to our day off?”

“Sure am,” you replied as you got up and walked over to hug him. “But first, look above you.”

Charles looked up and grinned at what he saw. “Mistletoe, huh?” Leaning down, he gave you a chaste peck on the lips. “As if I needed an excuse to kiss you.”

You pulled him down and kissed him again, forcing him to prolong the contact by digging your hands into his lush hair. Opening your lips, you licked his bottom lip, encouraging him to open his and invited his tongue to a dance, the kiss deepening as your desire heated your body.

But his movements were unhurried, his big hands sliding down your body slowly so he could enjoy the curve of your hips and your backside. He finally pulled back, making you whimper. “Sweetness,” he murmured, tracing your cheekbone tenderly, “you need to eat first. Then we can play.”

You huffed and pulled away from him, both annoyed that he was right and playing the part of being a brat, hoping that he’d lose some patience with you.

Raising an eyebrow, Charles said nothing more as he led you towards the kitchen, and the two of you made your meal and ate it peacefully at the table.

It wasn’t until after everything was cleaned and put away that you tried again.

“Charles,” you cooed. “I have a surprise for you.”

He looked at you, curious. “Oh?”

“Close your eyes.”

He obeyed without question.

You got up from your chair and went to the chest of drawers, digging into the bottom of the lowest drawer and pulling out one part of your special gift. Going back to stand before him, you undid the top three buttons of your blouse so that your cleavage peaked out. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, not because you were nervous, but because you were getting too excited. “Open your eyes.”

Charles did so, and his eyes immediately traveled to your chest. You could feel his hot gaze as if it were his fingers, tracing the curves of your breasts. It was as if just his stare alone could caress your nipples, for they suddenly ached with need. 

Then he saw the rope in your hands. It was a horsehair rope that you had made in your spare time, diligently weaving and re-weaving it until it was strong enough to hold someone, but soft to the touch. He looked back up at your face in confusion.

“I want you to tie me up,” you purred, setting the rope down on the table and undoing your skirt buttons in front of him. He sat, entranced by the fabric gliding down your body, revealing your bare thighs. You had chosen not to wear any drawers tonight; you wanted to tease him as much as possible, to break his hold on his self-control.

You could see the outline of his bulge in his pants as he swallowed audibly. “Sweetness,” he rasped, “what’re you on about?”

Undoing the rest of your blouse, you revealed your other secret gift: a chemise and corset that pushed your breasts up. The chemise was dyed black to complement the dark red of the corset, with its black ribbons and lace.

Charles let out a low rumble. “Such a beautiful lady,” he murmured. “C’mere, let me touch you.”

You shook your head. Grabbing the rope from the table, you pushed him back on the chair and wrapped it around him twice. Tying a square knot at his chest, you smiled. “No touching.”

He tested the ropes, wriggling in his seat. It was clear to both of you that if he chose to, he could easily get free, but he decided to play your game. For now.

So you went down on your knees and slowly undid the buttons of his pants and then his drawers, looking up at him to smile and watch his reaction as you nuzzled his bulge. When you finally reached in and freed his cock, stroking him into full hardness, he was breathing heavily.

With your eyes locked onto his, you took him into your mouth. He groaned, his hips jerking upwards. You put your hands on his thighs and started to suck on him in earnest, bobbing your head up and down, slowing your rhythm when you felt him tensing, and speeding up when you could hear him catching his breath. After a while, you reached down to stroke your clit while you sucked on him, letting your own moans vibrate against his shaft. Your tongue swirled around the head of his cock, making him let out a prolonged moan.

“How long are you going to keep me on edge?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

You grinned as you gave him one last lick and stood up. Straddling him, you grasped his hardness and lowered yourself slowly, sinking onto him one inch at a time until he was completely sheathed in you. You felt him twitch inside of you, and you laughed gleefully.

“I’m warning you,” he rumbled.

“Warning me of what?” you sneered, lifting yourself off him until on the tip was inside. “What are you goin’ to do? You’re. Nothing. But. A. Cuddly. Puppy,” you taunted, punctuating your words with each bounce, sliding halfway down before moving back up.

Charles growled before flexing, the square knot that you had so haphazardly tied loosening like his self-control. He reached up and untied it, setting himself free before grabbing onto your hips and pulling you down to grind hard against him. 

“A puppy, huh?” He picked you up, holding you close and walked over to the bed. He nearly shoved you down; his roughness made you shiver with anticipation. He ripped off his clothes in a rush before grabbing the rope and stalking towards you, that primal lust in his eyes, just like that wondrous night. You felt your pussy flow with your desire, as if it knew what was about to happen.

“You want this?” he growled, grabbing your wrists and tying them together. Without waiting for your answer, he flipped you over and folded you until you were on your knees. Slapping your ass, he uttered, “On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed, craving his command. Caressing your backside, he rubbed the head of his cock against your folds, dipping inside of you just a little bit before pulling out to rub against your clit. Over and over, he teased you until you were begging for him to fuck you.

“I don’t think so, sweetness. You tortured me so ruthlessly. I think I owe you the same.” Then he leaned over, one arm holding himself up as he gripped your chin and turned your head to the side to meet his gaze. “Or are you goin’ to be a good girl?”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

A feral grin grew on his face as he let go of your jaw. His hands suddenly grasped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Have it your way.”

That was your only warning before he plunged inside of you with a low snarl. Staying inside of you, he pressed you down onto the bed, his chest against your back. His hands slid up your body, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, the other digging into your hair. Moving his hips up slowly, he chuckled darkly into your ear before starting a ruthless pace. Charles fucked you hard, making the bed bounce with the strength of his powerful thrusts. 

You cried out, your screams louder than the winter wind outside. Wrapping one hand around your mouth to stifle your sounds, he kept pounding into you, his deep moans of pleasure in your ear.

“That’s it girl, take what I give you,” he uttered into your ear. “It’s what you need, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes Charles, I need your cock inside of me, I need to be fucked!” you babbled when Charles let go of your mouth. You were losing your mind as he took you with an intense need to mark you as absolutely, decisively his.

He stopped long enough to roll the two of you over, his cock still sheathed inside of you. Reaching down, he stroked your core with one hand as he grabbed your breast and squeezed, teasing your nipple as he gave you shallow thrusts. Your body tightened when he slapped your breast before reaching around you to rub and pinch the other one, giving it the same treatment.

“I can feel your pussy tighten around me. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You could only moan as he rubbed your center harder, faster.

“Come for me, sweetness. Show me how much you love having my cock inside of you.”

You let out a strangled cry as your climax hit you hard, your legs straightening out, your toes curling, the sweat from your body making you slippery in his grasp as he tried to hold you down. He wrung every last spasm of pleasure from you, not letting up the sweet, sinful pressure on your core until you started begging for him to stop.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he teased, gently rolling you off of him. He got up to kneel before you, positioning you with your back on the bed, your legs spread wide open and still twitching from your last climax. Pressing his cock against your oversensitized clit, he rubbed against you, watching you writhe with too much pleasure, driving you insane.

“Oh my lord, fuck, oh god,” you rambled as your hips twisted back and forth, trying to avoid his touch. But Charles grabbed your hips and held you down as he rocked his hips back and forth, his shaft sliding around your sensitive areas. You could only whimper as you knew you were helpless to resist him now.

Not that you wanted to. Your pussy still dripped with how much you wanted him to fuck you.

Charles let you breathe for a moment before he leaned forward and pushed his member deep inside of you with one stroke. “You want my spend, wildcat?”

“Yes!” you hissed, lifting your hips up. “I want it, I need it!”

“Of course you do. And only I can give it to you,” he rumbled as he started thrusting, slowly at first, then moving faster and faster as he lost control of himself. He fell upon you, like a hungry wolf onto his prey, covering you with his wide chest, his big, muscular arms surrounding you and holding you close. “Tell me you want it inside.”

“Yes, please Charles, spend inside of me, I want it deep,” you begged.

Charles let out a guttural moan as he thrust hard, pushing inside of you as deep as he could, and stayed there as he released himself inside of you, filling you full. He let out a few more grunts of exertion, lifting his hips and pumping more inside of you until you felt his release spilling from your body.

“Fuck,” he sighed, contentedly. Then he suddenly lifted off of you and collapsed beside you. He reached up and untied your wrists, frowning at the red marks on your skin.

“You alright, sweetness?” he asked, kissing each of your wrists.

“I’m better than alright,” you replied, drunk on the intense afterglow. Cuddling closer to him, you hummed happily when you felt him wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Guess I should’ve known you could handle me being… a little rougher with you.”

You looked up at him. “What stopped you before?”

Charles cupped your cheek and looked at you so tenderly that you nearly teared up. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

You gently flicked his nose with your finger. “You silly man. I’ll tell you if something hurts.”

“You usually don’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue before you realized that he was right. You usually didn’t complain about aches and pains, but he would see you stretching or groaning and would chastise you for not telling him. “This is different. But I promise I’ll tell you if I’m hurt from now on,” you said.

“Thank you.” He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose. “Ready to sleep, sweetness?”

You nodded and yawned.

He chuckled as he nuzzled you with his cheek. “Good night, my love.”

***

“Happy Christmas, my sweet flower,” Charles said as you awoke, blinking your eyes as the dawn light filtered in through the one window of your cabin. Nestling into his chest, you wanted to sleep for a little longer, but knowing what an early bird Charles was, you grumbled and started to get up.

“Who said anything about getting out of bed,” he said, pulling you back down on top of him. You felt the long hard length of him against your thigh and saw the sly smile on his face.

Straddling him, you rolled your hips and coated his cock with your wetness. “My mistake,” you joked. “Guess you’ll need to teach me the right way to spend Christmas morning.”

He rolled the two of you over and slipped his cock inside of you slowly. “Gladly,” he said before kissing you and starting a gentle rhythm that sent you soaring.

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

End Notes: Merry Christmas @fangirl-ramblings! Hope you like your secret santa gift!!!

[cowpokecorner]

Dead Dawg Anon here: Either is fine. Or both.

"N-now c'mon Mister. Ain't no need t'be shootin' nobody." Arthur attempted to calm the man. FO: Alrighty~! I decided to go the fic route cause I figured it'd be easier than trying to come up with a whole list of HCs. It's just a brief interaction, but I hope it's to your liking~ :3

Welcome To the New Realm Cowpokes (pt 1) || Arthur Morgan meets Caleb Quinn (an RDR2 / DBD crossover fic)

As the outlaw made his way down the dark, dank trail of the Entity's realm, he pondered just how in the hell he got to this place. The last thing he remembered he was jumping from a burning ship into the ocean during an escape from Saint Denis after a failed bank robbery. Next he knew, he was waking up in a strange place near a camp fire of some kind and several people he'd never seen before in his life. Only a couple of them introduced themselves to him, but he didn't stick around too long either. He wanted to try and figure out where he was and see if there was any way to get back to Dutch and the others. He needed to know if they had made it to safety. In the meantime, he was going to learn as much as he could about the place he was in right now. Arthur was so lost in thought he hadn't realized just how far he had strayed from the safety of the camp fire. He only looked up when the sound of a vulture caught his attention. He looked up to see a dusty road leading into what appeared to be an old Western town. It reminded of where he came from, drawing him in. He started down the road, admiring the scenery and the sky. Even though this place looked like a fight of some kind had broken out, it still brought him a bit of comfort in this strange world. It was when he laid his eyes upon the Dead Dawg Saloon that his interest was truly peeked. He cautiously stepped into the run down building, looking around and cringing a bit at the sound of the utterly out of tune piano, that appeared to be playing by itself. The place looked really beat up, a few dead bodies strewn about. He approached the bar, running his hand through the thick layer of dust on the counter. He was quite curious about this place, but his curiosity would quickly turn to apprehension when he picked up on the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the second floor.

Arthur immediately turned his attention toward the stairs, the piano suddenly going silent as he backed away and tried to find a place to hide. The bar was his only option, so he quickly ducked behind it and waited. He peeked out, keeping an eye on the stairs as he watched a shadow appear on the wall. If that shadow was accurate, the person making it was rather large in height. The inhabitant of this particular realm had heard the intruder enter and was on his way down to have a look around.

 The figure didn't take kindly to the Survivors encroaching on his territory, and even less so when it was another unwelcome Killer. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he brought his invention up to aim, scanning the room with a scowl on his face. "Frank. F’you 'r any a yer miscreant friends're in here again...You'll not be leavin' without a hole in ya." His tone was low and gravely as he spoke. Arthur's eyes widened a bit when he caught sight of the modified rifle the other man was holding. It looked as though it was fixed up to launch a barbed harpoon from the barrel, and...was that a...railroad spike for a bayonet? He did his best to quiet his breathing so as not to be heard, but this guy was definitely less than human looking. Arthur wasn't normally one to be scared easily, but the sight of the other cowboy with his quite intimidating weapon really did have him on edge.

The Deathslinger started to make his way around the room, keeping his gun at the ready as he looked for whoever had come into his saloon. The lack of any sort of clue was beginning to boil his blood. He knew he heard footsteps a moment ago. "Whoever's in here best be comin' out. Now!" Arthur thought to himself a moment before taking a deep breath in. This guy was like him it seemed. An outlaw or something of the like from a similar time as him. Maybe he could talk to him? Strike up some kind of deal? Surely he wouldn't kill him so long as he didn't break or take anything, right? He carefully moved to stand up from behind the bar, his hands raised defensively as he spoke. "I-I'm sorry Mister. I didn' mean no harm t'nothin'. I was just lookin' round for a way outta this place. That's all." At the sound of Arthur's voice, Caleb quickly turned on his heels and aimed his gun at the other. He gave a low chuckle before he spoke. "A way out? There ain't no way out boy. Death ain't even an escape here. Now I suggest y'leave m'property ‘fore y'get yerself hurt. Y'got about five seconds.”

 "N-now c'mon Mister. Ain't no need t'be shootin' nobody." Arthur attempted to calm the man. 

"Five." He cocked his gun and raised it to his eye, closing the other to get a better aim.

Arthur quickly realized there would be no negotiating. He moved a hand to reach for his pistol, but to no avail. Not only had he lost it when jumping from the boat, but this world's 'Entity' had not allowed him to have anything. "Shit..." He muttered to himself. "Four." Caleb smirked as he slipped his finger over the trigger. "Y'better get t'runnin' boy." Arthur took the opportunity while the other man's vision was impaired from aiming. He acted fast, jumping the bar and swinging to try and punch him. That would prove to be a major mistake on his part. Caleb quickly countered by swinging his rifle and slashing Arthur's arm with the spike on the end. "Don't test me boy! I ain't gonna tell ya again! Get out, 'r get shot!" 

Arthur cried out in pain at the slash, quickly bringing a hand up to cover the fresh wound. "C'mon fella..." He spoke with a pained tone. "I ain't here t'cause no trouble. Really. Maybe we could...talk things out...over a drink 'r somethin'...?" Caleb raised a brow in slight confusion. "Talk? Over a drink?" Was this guy serious? He sure was a strange one for a Survivor. Most of them stayed away, and the ones that did stray in occasionally normally got chased out before too long. None of them ever tried to negotiate or drink with him. Although, something about Arthur struck him as familiar. He reminded him a lot of home. He lowered his gun, putting it to his side for now. "Where you from anyway? Time-wise I mean." Arthur raised a brow in confusion. "Where...in time...?" 

"Yes. Time don't exist here, n' everyone's from a different point in time." Caleb leaned against the bar with a huff. "So. Where you from?”  

"Uh...eighteen ninety-nine... You..?" Arthur questioned back. 

"Not long b'fore." Caleb smirked. "Y'know, maybe a drink 'r two ain't such a bad idea. Maybe we can talk bout the ol' days, but..." He stepped closer to Arthur, narrowing his eyes, "Try anythin' n' I won't hesitate ta shoot'cha." 

Arthur made note of the other's threat as he straightened up. "Promise. I don't mean no harm. Just...want someone I can relate to...n' maybe try n' find a way outta here..."

"Already told’ja boy. Ain't no way out. All of us're stuck here doin' th'Entity's biddin'." Caleb brought his rifle up to rest on his shoulder as he walked by Arthur toward the back of the saloon. "Better see ta that wound. Ain't gonna heal much till ya die n' come back." Arthur turned to give the other cowboy a confused look. "Die...n'...come back...?" What was this place? Would he truly be stuck here forever? Would he never see his friends and family ever again? There were so many questions swirling around in his mind in this moment. He decided he'd likely be spending a lot of time here, getting to know this man and understanding this world.