#john marston x abigail roberts x reader

[hihomeghere]

Fakin' it | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? Warnings/Tags : Enemies to lovers <3, unprotected piv sex, guns, cursing, reader has female gentailia, fingering, one bed, fake marriage

Of course the job that went bad had to be with Arthur. Why Dutch had put you two together was beyond you. Everyone around the gang knew that it was volatile anytime you two were together. But, you were cunning, quick minded in a pinch. Arthur was strong, easily able to take down a man twice his size, not that someone of that caliber came along often. To put it simply, you were the brains, he was the brawn. As much as you hated to admit, you made a good team on jobs. This time however, a simple robbery had turned into dozens of O’driscolls around every corner. You two had barely made it into a hotel unscathed. 

“One room.” Arthur said, setting down some coins on the table top as you watched the door. Your hand resting against your gun in your dress pocket.

“Name?” The man asked with a smile.

“Callahan.” Arthur said looking back at you. “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.” He said, turning back to the clerk. You heard footsteps outside of the hotel, you turned quickly grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Sweetheart.” You cooed, internally cringing as you called him by that name. You looked at him with wide eyes, “Come on.” You said with a nervous smile.

“We’re newlyweds, a bit excited if you can’t tell.” He chuckled, turning back to the clerk, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Of course.” The clerk said with a knowing smile, you wanted to barf as Arthur squeezed your waist. “Up the stairs to the left.” He said, handing Arthur a key.

“Much appreciated.” Arthur said his hand on the small of your back as you two climbed the stairs. As soon as you turned the corner you nearly ran to the door, Arthur slid the key in the lock and turned it, ushering you inside. As soon as the door was closed behind you, he was locking it just as fast. 

Once you got in the room you moved away from Arthur’s side, letting out a sigh as you looked around the room. One bed, of course, you two were acting as a couple.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at Arthur. 

“Less eyes on us if we’re a couple, not cause I wanna play house with you.” He said with a grunt, barely raising his head to look at you. He walked over to the bed, moving to take his boots off.

“Less eyes.” You scoffed, looking around the room, walking over to the window. You pulled the blinds back, peeking out to the streets below. 

“The hell you think you're doing?” Arthur hissed, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Looking.” You said glaring up at him. “Is that a crime?”

“Do you want to give away our position?” He growled, his eyes dark.

“I think it’s pretty damn clear we’re in one of these shops, now we have to wait it out until they’re gone.” You said pulling away your arm from his grasp. He let out a deep breath, his jaw clenched as he looked away from you.

“How many are out there?” He asked, holding his hat as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, maybe a dozen?” You said crossing your arms.

“Dutch said to keep a low profile,” He muttered to himself, “We can’t go out there guns blazing.” He said, setting his hat down on the bedside table. 

“That’s obvious.” You said, shaking your head. He scoffed, looking up at you.

“Are you trying to piss me off, or is that just one of your special talents?” Arthur said glaring at you.

“Oh I have lots of talents.” You say, stepping closer a scowl on your face. 

“If only one of them was keeping your mouth shut.” He growled. 

“God, what is your problem?” You huff looking away from him.

“My problem?” He scoffs getting up from the bed. “You’re my problem." He said, his chest almost touching yours as you looked up at him.

“Feelings mutual.” You huff, glaring up at him. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as you walked away from him. 

“We’re gonna have to wait it out.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The hell are we gonna do?” You asked throwing your hands up. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna take advantage of this bed.” He said laying back down on the bed, placing his hat over his face. You bit your cheek looking at him as he crossed his legs. He did have a point, the bed looked a whole lot softer than your cot back at camp. You mulled it over for a second before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You unlaced your boots, laying back on the bed. Your eyes quickly drew heavy, the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off. 

The sun was setting when you woke up, the light slowly disappearing behind the horizon. The room was quiet except for Arthur’s breathing. You sat up in bed, looking over at him. His hat had fallen off his face when he rolled over sometime during his sleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept, it was like seeing a completely different side of him. It’s at this moment you really appreciate how beautiful Arthur truly is. The bridge of his nose is high, broken one too many times. His plump lips parted slightly, like two petals. His sandy brown hair falling over his forehead. 

You wanted to reach out and move it out of his face, but thought better of it. You didn’t want to disturb him and it wasn’t often that you saw him without a furrowed brow. 

Just as you were laying back down you heard heavy footsteps up the stairs. By your guess, four, maybe five men. You sit up quietly, feeling your heart pound against your rib cage. Arthur sprang up in bed as soon as they kicked open the first door. They must have turned right when they went up the stairs. The yell of shock sounded farther down the hall. He turned to you, his eyes wide. He reached for his gun belt on the floor but you stopped him. Your brain was running through all the situations. Four or five men, sure you and Arthur could take them, but that’s not exactly a low profile. 

Against your better judgment you picked the solution with the least amount of bloodshed. You swung your leg over Arthur’s waist.

“The hell are you doing-“ Arthur hissed before you covered his mouth with your hand. Your fingers started working on the buttons of your blouse as you rolled your hips forward. Arthur looked up at you with a wide eyed expression, his bright eyes frantically moving between his gun belt on the floor and the door. His stubble lightly scratched your palm as you held your hand over his mouth, his plump lips almost kissing your palm.

You forced a high pitched moan as you moved your hips faster on the bed, the bedframe hitting the wall. Creating the illusion you two were having sex.

The gears slowly started to turn in Arthur’s mind, his hands gripping your hips as he propelled you faster. The bedframe was now rocking against the wall, as you pulled your arms out of your blouse, leaving your chest bare. Your nipples hardened from the cold air as goosebumps sprung up on your skin. Arthur’s eyes were closed as he turned his head, forcing a low groan. Although you knew his groans were fake, the way his body reacted to your touch was more than real. You kept up with your moans, trying to put on a good enough show.

The door was soon forced open, as two O’Driscolls entered  the room with their guns raised. You scream, Arthur is quick to pull your chest down to his. You were pressed tight against him, his warm hands keeping you flush against him, all of him. His work shirt rubs against your nipples in such a fucking delicious way, it doesn’t help tbe adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t see anything, your head buried into Arthur’s neck, his stubble now rubbing against your cheek.

“Get the hell out of here!” Arthur yells, hidden by your upper half.

One of them clears their throat before exiting the room, closing the door behind them. You hold your breath waiting for their footsteps to retreat down the hallway. You let out a sigh of relief as they meet back up with the other men, walking down the stairs.

Hesitantly Arthur moves his hands off your back, you sit up covering your breasts with your arms. Arthur, however, was staring up towards the ceiling. His jaw clenched as he avoided looking at you.

You moved off of his waist, grabbing your blouse before slipping your arms through the sleeves. You buttoned it up, swallowing thickly as Arthur cleared his throat. 

“Now uh-“ Arthur said letting out a sigh, “I want you to know that I didn’t see nothin’.” The bed whines slightly as he stands up. 

“I know you felt something.” You said, shaking your head as you blush from head to toe. 

“Now-“ Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair as you turned to face him, his eyes flicking around the room before settling at your feet as he held up his hand. “We can just pretend this never happened, it was a matter of life and death.”

“I understand that.” You looked at him, fully looked at him. His gaze was low, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cheeks flushed. God, he looks wrecked.

Your eyes trailed over his body as he stood there, his hand on his hip as he popped his knee out. Your eyes moved down further, almost popping out of your head as you see how painfully hard he is pressed against his pants. 

“Are you-“ The words fall out of your mouth before you can think to stop them.

“Jesus.” Arthur sighed looking down, his hand rubbing his eyebrows.

“You are.” A nervous chuckle leaves your mouth as your eyes trailed up and down his body. You felt heat begin to spread between your thighs as he met your eyes. Your heart is still pounding against your rib cage from the encounter with the O’Driscolls. 

“I’m-“ He started throwing his hands up, “I’m sorry, alright but you can’t expect me- I’m only a man.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Nothing to be ashamed-“ He cut you off, shaking his head, “There is plenty to be ashamed of, I shouldn’t be getting so… so worked up over you.” He said motioning to you. You couldn’t help that you were also getting worked up, you subtly rubbed your thighs together. Trying to get any friction where you needed it most. Heat bloomed in your stomach as the tension in the room only got worse. He furrowed his brows, studying you.

“Wait,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “You feel it too.” He said, crossing his arms.

You scoffed, looking off to the side. “You wish.” You said, hating the slight tremor in your voice. Arthur strode across the room, stopping in front of you. He reached towards you, tilting your chin so you would have to look at him. 

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He said softly, his other arm encircling your waist pulling you flush against him. You stayed silent, looking up into his blue eyes. Slowly a smirk worked its way onto his face, “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled, cupping your cheek. He leaned forward brushing his nose against yours. Giving you the option to pull away if you wanted, his eyes softening as he looked into yours. You took the plunge, capturing his lips against your own as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

A groan rumbled through his chest as his hand tightened around your waist. You felt dizzy as his lips moved against yours, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth allowing his access as he pressed into you deeper. He rubbed himself against you, his hips pressed against your lower belly. 

You pulled away, breathing hard as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his mouth parted slightly as his chest rose and fell rapidly. You unbuttoned your blouse for the second time, just as feverishly as the first time, but now for a completely different reason. Arthur followed your lead, pushing his own suspenders down, his skillful fingers unbuttoning his own shirt. His eyes returned to your body as he ripped his shirt off of his shoulders, settling onto your breasts. He stared down at you, an almost predatory expression on his face. He closed the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other kneaded your breast. You let out a soft gasp, which quickly turned to a moan as he ran his thumb over your perk nipple. 

“Arthur.” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening as he watched you shiver against him. He flipped you around, his hand pressing you down onto the bed. His other hand flipped your skirts up, before pulling down your underclothes. He let out a soft groan as his eyes connected with your almost dripping pussy.

“This all for me?” He cooed, swiping his finger through your folds. You gasped, nodding as your hands gripped the quilt. 

“Yes.” You breathed, “Yes all for you.”

“Good girl.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he sunk a finger into your heat. You gasped as he slowly started pumping his finger inside of you. He leaned over you, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Yeah you like that don’t you?” He said nibbling on your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as he added another finger, scissoring them inside your walls.

“Fuck Arthur.” You melwed, pressing your forehead against the slightly scratchy quilt underneath you. “I need you.” You huffed, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“I’m gettin’ there.” He chuckled, pulling his finger out of you, you sighed at the loss. You could hear the rustling of clothing behind you, the distinctive metal on metal as you pulled off his belt. His warm calloused hands ran up your backside, gently spreading you before the head of his cock met your entrance. 

Jesus Christ he was big. 

He spit into his palm, pulling away as he spread his spit over the head of his cock. 

“What the hell is taking so long?” You asked impatiently, turning your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, a wicked grin on his face as he forcefully shoved his cock through your folds. It was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as you were propelled forward onto the bed. His hands pulled your hips back and speared you onto his dick. 

“Arthur!” You yelped, your fingers gripping the quilt as he thrust his pelvis flush to yours. 

“Christ woman.” He groaned, laying his forehead against your bare back. You moan as he pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you. “You sound even better when you ain’t faking it.” You can feel the chuckle rumble through his chest more than you can hear it as he speaks. 

“Arthur, Jesus." You pant, almost drooling over the way his cock hits that spot inside you over and over again. 

“Mmm.” He moans, tight lipped as he tilts his head back. You push back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts “Yeah, atta girl.” His praise only spurred you on, your thighs shaking as you pushed your ass against his pelvis. “You close?” He whispered, his warm hand moving down your thigh between your legs. His thumb circling your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You were grateful your upper half was supported by the plush bed as your legs gave out under you. A high pitched moan worked its way out of your chest as you all but collapsed on the bed. Your walls fluttered around him, milking his cock. 

“Shit.” He panted his breath fanning on your back as his forearms caged you in, his hips stuttering as he released his seed inside you. He groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he collapsed on you. His sweaty chest sticking against your back. He pulled out of you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He whispered. 

“S’okay.” You said breathing hard, his cum seeping down your thighs. He kissed down your spine, his hand lovingly squeezing your hips. 

He grabbed a towel from the dresser, cleaning your thighs off. 

“Who would have thought you’d known about aftercare.” You chuckle softly, your heart rate slowly coming back to normal.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me sweetheart.” He huffs, a small smirk on his face as he tucked himself back into his pants. He reached down, pulling your bloomers back up over your hips. 

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, grabbing your blouse as he grabbed his shirt off the floor.

“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan.” He smirked walking towards you, buttoning his shirt as he stood in front of you. You rolled your eyes, buttoning your blouse. He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He said, his hand trailing down your jaw. 

“Alright, fine. Mr. Callahan.” You huffed, a blush covering your cheeks as you rested your hands against his broad chest. 

“Next time,” He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips against your ear, “You’re riding me.”

[spongeyspot]

Toxic Traits/Red Flags HC

Characters: Arthur, Javier, John, Lenny, Dutch, Micah, Charles, Sean, Hosea, Mary Beth, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, Sadie, Molly

(A/N): WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS DAWG. I LOVED @cowboyfromh3ll 's take on that shit sm and these hcs have literally been swimming in my head for weeeeeeeeks bro

Edit: some of these were kinda hard because there's not a lot of bad in the characters themselves... I had trouble with specifically Charles, Lenny, Mary Beth, and Tilly. Sorry if they may be OOC. IM EVEN DOING THE GIRLS BECAUSE IM IN A SILLY GOOFY MOOD

Content Warning: female reader, jealousy, self hate, narcissism, gaslighting, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, mentions of murder and violence, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex (Sean, Micah, Sadie kind of) (MINORS DNI)

Not edited btw

The boys

Arthur Morgan

- Honestly, I feel like Arthur would have this insane, crippling fear of rejection, especially when it comes to dating. - His self hate/deprecation plays a huge part in this, and quite honestly, him and Mary not working out probably also probably contributed to it. - Very emotionally distant. Has a hard time expressing his feelings openly due to that same fear of rejection.🚩 - Bottles shit up until he feels like he's gonna explode 🚩 - His impulse control is almost nonexistent 🚩 - Will resort to saying things that he doesn't even mean. He just says things when he's angry🚩 - Will hate himself even more if he makes you cry - Won't hesitate to run away from camp for a while to cool off. This isn't necessarily a bad thing per se, but he usually takes his time away to overthink the fuck out of everything - Prone to acting violent. (not to someone he cared about, but to other people, absolutely)Also due to his poor impulse control. 🚩

Javier Escuella

- Has a flirty personality, but around women, it just seems to get worse. 🚩 - Tells you you're overreacting if you tell him it bothers you🚩 - Overprotective of you. Always has his eyes on you, and practically orders you to stay in camp where it's safe. - As if you step one foot outside the camp without him, you'll spontaneously drop dead - Jealous asf. Are you laughing at what Bill just said? It wasn't even that funny. Why are you standing so close to him? You should be at least 6 feet away from him, not 5 and a half. 🚩 - Also has a problem with how you dress sometimes. God forbid your shirt is ever low cut. He'd probably ask you to change. 🚩 - And if you get offended or upset, he'll lie and tell you it's because he can't stop staring at your chest, and he'd like to focus of whatever it was he was doing.🚩

John Marston

- Stubborn as all hell. Doesn't listen to anybody for anything.🚩 - Commitment issues up the ass - Says mean things out of anger and sometimes actually means them 🚩 - Won't apologize half the time. He thinks kissing it better actually makes it better 🚩 - Regularly ignores his own bad habits instead of actually facing them 🚩 - Will run away from problems like Arthur, but worse. He'd be gone a really long time.🚩 - Gets annoyed with you if you get angry at him for leaving and staying away for a while. He told you he needed space, didn't he? What else do you need from him?? 🚩 - Ignorantly clueless half the time. Head empty, no thoughts.

Lenny Summers

- Not assertive in the slightest, and usually, respectfully, keeps to himself. -Takes orders without verbal complaints but inside he's annoyed as fuck 🚩 - Even if he hates doing something he'll probably just go "Okay" and do it anyway, and he'll sulk all day afterwards - Refuses to tell you what's wrong because he thinks he'll sound childish.🚩 - If you push the issue, he might snap at you out of annoyance like "Would you just let it be??" - Immediately feels guilty and shameful, and he'll hide away until he's ready to apologize and face you again - Also kind of a know-it-all... He'll correct you a LOT. It would get annoying 🚩 - Would blatantly tell you you're wrong before correcting you🚩 - Not necessarily an asshole about it but he still tends to get under your skin sometimes

Dutch Van Der Linde

- The BIGGEST Narcissist you'll ever meet.🚩 -He loses another piece of his mental state with every breath he takes. Slowly but surely losing his mind.🚩 - King of gaslighting🚩 - How could you even think that about him? He could never do anything wrong! You must be crazy...🚩 - Tries to recite his "pretty words" from Evelyn Miller to try and sound smarter than he actually is 🚩 - Expects you to just feed his ego without him actually doing anything to earn it🚩 - Will try to correct you even when he's wrong🚩 - Refuses to admit he's wrong. He can never be wrong. That word isn't even in his vocabulary unless he's talking about literally anyone but himself🚩

Micah Bell

- Where do I even start with this guy - Not above putting his hands on you if he doesn't get his way. Let's be honest here.🚩 - Mega Narccisist, almost as bad as Dutch 🚩 - Will brag and share every sexual encounter you've ever had with him like he's talking about the weather🚩 - VERY prone to Violence 🚩 - NO impulse control. Murders people for fun.🚩 - Backhanded and borderline abusive compliments 24/7 "You'd look so good if you weren't so fucking fat..." 🚩 - Selfish lover. Thinks just sticking it in will do the trick, and it does, for him at least.🚩 - Little to no affection. What are you? His girlfriend? Wait...🚩 -If he actually does show you affection, and you react in surprise, he'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and that that's the last time he ever does anything nice for you.🚩

Charles Smith

- Impossible to read sometimes - Like Arthur, Charles tends to keep a lot of his emotions bottled up until he feels like he's gonna pop 🚩 - Like most of the men in the Van Der Linde gang, Charles is also prone to acting violently. I mean, he started a bar fight with a fucking chair, and he fights in street fighting rings, let's be real for a second.🚩 - He's incredibly quiet and reserved a lot of the time, and sometimes you just assume that he's listening to you when you talk, but a lot of the time, he's lost in his own thoughts. - Will do everything anyone asks him to at the expense of his own free time and energy, and sometimes he works himself to exhaustion just to try and please everyone.🚩 - In doing so, he sometimes doesn't have time for himself at the end of the day. It also seems like you spend time together less and less as the days go on. - If he ever got himself hurt and you tried to help him, he'd decline any help with anything to save his own pride. The last thing he needs is you thinking he's weak. 🚩 - Extremely Overprotective. Like to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anybody you asked him to🚩

Sean Macguire

- An Alcoholic🚩 - horny 99% of the time, but half that time he probably has whiskey dick. Still asks you to try but doesn't understand that it's like trying to play pool with a rope... - If he can manage to be sober enough to actually get it up, and you're not in the mood, he'd get pissy and annoyed with you for "wasting his boner" 🚩 - Will probably also brag about having sex with you to everyone🚩 - Needy as all hell - Bro sulks on purpose - Low key loves the attention you give him when you continue to ask him what's wrong, but he never actually tells you and constantly says "I'm fine..." or "It's nothing..." 🚩 - But then sighs dramatically and continues sulking and dragging his feet so you keep giving him more attention 🚩

Hosea Matthews

- Ignores his physical health until he's practically dying. You've told him to get that cough looked at for literal years and he just says "I will" and does nothing 🚩 - sometimes talks to you as if you're a child especially if he's around Dutch -low key gaslights you sometimes 🚩 - and he says it with such a gentle tone, its hard to catch it 🚩

The girls

Mary Beth Gaskill

- Daydreams way too much - Likes to live in her romance novel fantasy land rather than face reality 🚩 - Cries a lot - Tries to be angry but can't help but cry instead - If crying makes you feel bad for her, she'll probably do it on purpose so you comfort her and give her attention🚩 -If you're in a fight, she'll turn on the crocodile tears to get you to stop being angry with her or whatever it is you're arguing about.🚩

Abigail Roberts

- She can be verbally abusive if she's pushed far enough 🚩 - Holds in a lot of her emotions🚩 - Neglectful of her own personal needs to make sure you or Jack are fully provided or cared for🚩 - a lot of the time, when she's upset with you, you're probably given the cold shoulder and the silent treatment - incredibly protective. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she can sometimes be super overbearing.

Tilly Jackson

- Tells it how she sees it, sometimes accidentally sounding a lot colder than she means to 🚩 - Too sarcastic for her own good 🚩 - Laughs a little too much sometimes when you tell a joke, and you can often tell it's actually incredibly fake🚩 - gets irritated really easily, especially if she's bothered while doing her chores. The last thing she needs is Grimshaw on her ass again.🚩 - irritable a lot of the time, unintentionally becoming short or snapping at you - like john, she also believes that kissing it better is better than actually apologizing

Karen Jones

- An alcoholic 🚩 - picks fights with you for fun, finds it entertaining to see how red your face can get from anger 🚩 - Screaming matches are a regular occurance between you guys, and she starts it almost every time 🚩 - Pretty jealous when it comes to the opposite sex🚩 - Has self doubt and believes that she can't give you everything a man probably could

Sadie Adler

- The nosiest woman in America. No chill. She reads everyone's mail. - Makes a lot of loose threats 🚩 - Anger issues🚩 - Low impulse control🚩 - Can be a little too rough sometimes 🚩 - If she's upset with you, she'll either yell or storm off. Sometimes both. 🚩 -(She tends to walk away a lot more often because she's actuall self aware that her anger issues are a problem) - She'd never admit that to you though.

Molly O'Shea

- Even more jealous than Javier🚩 - Glares at and envies anyone you talk to that isn't her🚩 - Has immaginary conversations with people in her head🚩 - Rubbing her hands together when the real life conversations are following the script she had planned out in her brain - Needs constant reassurance - "D'you even love me anymore?!"🚩 - Overthinks everything 🚩 - Paranoid as hell about infidelity - Gets mad at you when she dreams about you cheating on her🚩

[skylarsblue]

★RDR2 Incorrect Quotes★

(If you see duplicates from my COD version of these? Shh, no you didn't) ★Border made by @fairytopea★

Ms.Grimshaw What are you doing, you oaf? Young!Arthur, staring at Y/N: They’re pretty. Ms.Grimshaw …and you’re ugly, now get back to work.

- (Pre-joining the gang) Abigail, trying to get paid: What’s your favorite color, John? John: Blue. No, green. Abigail: Awesome! I love learning about you. John: I fucked up, it’s yellow.

- Arthur, cutting a huge knot out of John’s hair: I fucked up, we gotta go bald. *head locks him still* Young!John, flailing violently: WAAAAAHHHH-

Seán: Psst, Lenny, ay mate, wake up! Lenny: Huh- Wh-what? What is it? Seán: I heard something outside the tent. Lenny: What? Seán: Like a woman crying in the distance, but I couldn’t hear her footsteps. Lenny: Okay?? What do you want me to do? Seán: Come look with me! Lenny: Hell no! Seán: Why not? Lenny: I got too much melanin and too much sense for that white people shit. You wanna let demons get you, be my guest, leave me out of it.

- (John HAD to have SOMETHING that captivated her, for humor’s sake? We’ll say he had jokes)

Abigail: You have to find my darling husband, I’m so worried about him. Arthur: Seriously, what do you see in that guy? Abigail: He makes me laugh.

- Micha: I've got the urge to say something. Arthur: And what's that? Micha: The N-Word- Arthur: WHOA-

- Bill: But seriously, is it your whole emo thing that she’s into or what? John: …yeah, long flowing straight hair, very emo.

- Karen: This- Hmm. Tilly: Be nice. Karen: I’m findin’ it. Mary-Beth: …it takes you that long to find- Karen: It does, it does.

- (O’Driscoll troubles) Kieran: Arthur we’re going to get murdered. We’re going to get murdered by a man who can’t tie a fucking bow tie. Arthur: At least he won’t torture us, can’t tie a rope either.

- John: Ugh, you know they’re gonna make us do one of those tacky family happiness photos that comes in the restaurants shitty frame. Tilly: Why are you so fucking negative all the time? John: Wh- uh- I just- Arthur: *slowly sucks tea through straw*

- Seán: Someone just said; “You’re a criminal!” Seán: *handkerchief on, gun in one hand, bag of money in the other* Seán: Well I’ll tell ya what, Sherlock Holmes. You are unbelievable.

- The Gang: Arthur is dying and Micha is a rat! Dutch, dancing with money: *insert that audio that goes “I don’t give a fuck cause I’m a ✨millionaire✨, I do what I want, middle finger in the air!”*

- John, drunk: You think the wind is ever tryna tell us something and we don’t know how to hear it anymore? Charles, loading up a drunk Arthur into a wagon: I just want you to stop saying odd shit.

- Abigail: If we lose, I’m gonna cut the judge. John: Wh- you brought your switchblade?? Abigail: Mhm. John: But they patted us down on the way in, where did you hide i- ohhhhhhh.

- Arthur: …you ever wish you could just, turn into a bird and fly away from everything? Charles: I think we need to get you to a therapist for depression. John: I’d wanna be a wolf. Charles: And we should get you psych evaluation for Autism.

- Sheriff: You seem like a reasonable and good natured person. Arthur: *looks around* And you look like you need glasses.

- Abigail: What would your father say?! Jack: Uhhh “I’ll fix it!” And then make it worse until luck comes around and makes it work, and then act like that was the plan the whole time? Abigail: …that’s my bad, I should’ve used a different phrase to express my disappointment.

- (I dunno why but John being super mean to some people is so fucking funny to me. I don't hate Bill, but bullying him is fun)

Bill: You enjoyin’ the wife everyone else paid to have? John: You mean the woman I never had to pay for? The woman who liked me so much, she didn’t ask for any money to sleep with me? In fact; she liked me so much, she married me? The woman who makes me a warm dinner and kisses me everyday? Mother of my child? John: I am enjoyin’ yeah. What about you, Bill? Bill: John: You enjoyin’ your lonely life, you unlovable sorry sack of shit? You enjoyin’ having to pay for someone to pretend they like you? Cause they never actually do. They hate you actually, like me. I hate you. Eat shit and die, Bill.

- Arthur: …him? Really? Mary-Beth Don’t be mean! Arthur: He looks like a rescue dog, Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth: I know, I like that! Arthur: ….you like that?? Mary-Beth: His pathetic wet eyes and general wimpy stature have captivated me. Arthur: *sigh* Whatever makes you happy.

- Bill: At the end of the day, Arthur. I am a MAN. Arthur: A MAN WHO’S GAY. You like fellers GETTHATTHROUGHYOURHEAD!

- Dutch: I have a plan. Hosea: You haven’t planned shit. Dutch: I’ve planned it.

- Hosea: Arthur! What on earth are you doing?! Young!Arthur: Getting rid of this demon. Young!John: *screeching and trying to get out of Arthur’s grip* Hosea: And why do you plan to get rid of him? Arthur: Because, Hosea! He woke me up by leaning over me and whispering, “I know what death feels like, it’s cold. Have you felt death?” Arthur: HE’S CLEARLY EVIL, HOSEA Hosea: That’s just how children are, Arthur. Dutch: He’s right son, put the boy down. Dutch, leaning and whispering to Hosea: But maybe we should buy a Bible just in case. Hosea: And a cross.

- (Modern au and suicide joke)

John: It’s not a phase! It’s a lifestyle, you just wouldn’t get it! Arthur: You think I didn’t go through the “I can’t tell if I want to kill myself or everyone around me” phase? Come on. John: What? I don’t wanna kill myself at all. Arthur: … John: … John: Should I- should we go talk to Hose- Arthur: We should forget this conversation happened. Take this Nirvana CD and keep your mouth shut.

- Abigail: …John. John: Yes, my angel? Abigail: You forgot something. John: No I didn’t! I took the list with me, checked it three times, even crossed things off when I put it in the cart! See, look. Apples, frozen hamhocks, cranberry juice- Abigail: John. You took Jack with you. John: Abigail: John: Abigail: John: SHIT I LEFT HIM BY THE PASTA SECTION Abigail: STOP STANDING THERE AND GO GET HIM!

- Jack: Pa, how did you get mom to marry you? John: Well son, I- John: John: I have no idea. Jack: Should I ask mom? John: I’ll be honest, I don’t think she knows the answer either.

- Charles: You did good back there. Arthur: Oh? Heh, nah, you did all the fancy stuff. I just helped. Charles: Don’t undersell yourself, Arthur. I wouldn’t be complimenting you for no reason. Arthur: Oh yeah? And here I thought you were just trying to fluff up my ego. Charles: Wouldn’t hurt to do when you work so hard, no? Arthur: Now you’re just being’ sweet- John: Can y’all wait til we’re done before you start your spiritual dick sucking? Arthur: Can you repent to the lord fast enough to save your soul in the time it’ll take me to throw you into the damn ocean, Marston?!

- Arthur: Do you even have a brain? John: Do you even have someone that loves you? Arthur: John: John: I heard it that time, I’m sorry. Arthur: This is what Abigail hears sometimes, just so you know. John: I heard it that time, I got it. I- I’ll just- Arthur: Whiskey, full bottle. The nice kind. John: Apology alcohol, got it.

-

NPC: My husband’s parents are so crazy. In-laws always are, huh? Abigail: Well, uh-

*John being an orphan* *John’s adoptive dads being criminals, one particularly off his rocker*

Abigail: ….aha, yeah;;

- Abigail: John Marston, you useless, foolish, stupid man! Bill: To hell with John! Abigail, suddenly with a very large gun: NO ONE INSULTS MY HUSBAND.

- Arthur, holding up a proper painting he actually put time and effort into: Could a depressed person make this? Charles: The painting: *a wolf in the rain laying it’s head over the body of a deer shot with an arrow* Charles: I’m, in fact, more convinced you have depression now. Arthur: …yeah this wasn’t the best evidence for my argument, huh? Charles: No. Not at all.

- John: What are you talking about? That’s completely normal, it’s like having opinions. just cause it doesn’t happen to you doesn’t mean- Tilly: No, John! No. It’s not normal to have that reaction to the sound of hearing metal on metal. John: No look, uh- Arthur! Arthur come here! Arthur: What now? John: What happens when you hear metal on metal? Like, a can bein’ rubbed with a knife. Arthur: Ugh, I hate that sound. It makes my damn skin crawl, like I got beetles underneath. Makes me wanna skin myself to get’em out. John: Right! See, Tilly? It’s not just me! Tilly: ????

Charles: …and you never got them evaluated? Hosea: In hindsight, an autistic diagnosis probably would’ve made more things make sense. But, what can ya do.

- Arthur after a dog didn’t positively react to him: Maybe this is my final straw. Charles: No. Arthur: It might be. Charles: It’s one dog. There are twenty that you stopped to pet along the way here, plenty more for you to pet after this. Arthur: You don’t understand, this is devastatin’. Charles: Arthur, please- Arthur: Utterly devastatin’, Charles.

- Arthur, tipsy: Just cause you’re gorgeous don’t mean I’ma do whatever you say. Charles: Drink the water, Arthur. Arthur: *grabs the glass* Yes, sir.

- (Got a Y/N one, also, modern Au)

Arthur: That’s the Aberdeen farm. Y/N: …what’s wrong with it? Arthur: What’cha mean? Y/N: The vibes, they’re off. Arthur: …the…vibes? Y/N: The energy, Mister Morgan. The vibe of the place. They’re off, they’re weird, wack even. I sense insidious and wretched wavelengths wafting from the aura of that property. Arthur: I see…well, to answer your question, it’s cause they are weird. And I ain’t even confirmed why cause I don’t really wanna know. Y/N: I see you can also sense the vibes are rank. Arthur: …sure, whatever that means.

- Micha: Well I think- Y/N: Well I’m certain no one fucking asked, Micha! Not a single damn person asked what the hell you thought, ever! In fact, I’m pretty sure you don’t think. I’m pretty sure your skull fills with all the bullshit in your organs, and it just spills out your mouth! Micha: Micha: I- Y/N: Shut up, Micha!

- Arthur, after Albert explains some super dangerous plan in order to get wild animals near him to photograph: You’re stupid, I like that in a man.

- Y/N: Bye Arthur, bye Karen, bye Hosea, bye Arthur. Sadie: You said ‘bye Arthur’ twice. Y/N: I like Arthur.

- NPC: Lovebirds, eh? Sadie: Arthur: Sadie: I’d rather eat a poison ivy plant with Holly Berries for dressing. *looks at Arthur* No offense. Arthur: No no, none taken. All things considered, I’d rather dive into a pit of tar and then drag myself face first through a plain of rotten chitlins. Sadie: Completely fair!

- Bill: I need you to realize you ain’t in charge here. Y/N: I need you to realize I don’t give a shit.

- Arthur: Hey Charles, uh, I got an Uhm…a spiritual question. Charles: Any particular reason you chose to ask me? Arthur: Uh well- I didn’t mean for it to be like that- I just- Charles: *sigh* What is it? Arthur: Do you know what it means when an elk stands up on its back legs? Charles: That means- Charles: WE SHOULD LEAVE, we need to leave, that’s what that means!

- Jack: …why are your boobs so big? Charles: They’re not boobs. Jack: Do you have to wear a brasier? Charles: *sigh* Arthur: He asked me the same thing a couple weeks ago, don’t think to hard bout it.

-

(Story spoilers!!) Y/N: I'm sorry, let me get this straight. Y/N: You picked up that man when he was a destitute child, grieving and starving. Taught him almost everything he knows. Y/N: Then, you did that with, what? Three others? In similar circumstances? Y/N: Created a sense of family and community, a strong bond between so many misfortuned people. With your trustworthy long term friend by your side. Y/N: And then. Y/N: One RAT. WHO IS OPENLY ANTAGONISTIC AND REEKS OF SUSPICION AS MUCH AS HE DOES HORSE SHIT, SOMEHOW CONVINCES YOU TO GO OFF YOUR ROCKER AND HARM YOUR GANG?! Y/N: Explain! Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: He praised me- Y/N: YOUR PRAISE KINK GOT YOU TO AIM A GUN AT YOUR SONS????

- Arthur: Naaah they’re an angel. Lenny: They punched Bill in the face. Seán: They told Strauss he was a waste of human material, in his own language, which they’re not fluent in. Mary-Beth: They framed Micha for a crime and got him put in prison again. Arthur: Like I said, an angel!

- John: Woman. (Translation: Darling.) Abigail: Moron. (Translation: Lovebug.)

Arthur: You tellin’ me they’re being affectionate right now? Jack: Can’t’cha read subtext, Uncle Arthur? Arthur: ???

-

(Insert Alcohol is truth serum reference)

Drunk Bill: Not to be gay, but you’re gorgeous bro. Kieran, afraid: You don’t have to be gay to appreciate a man’s beauty. Absolutely shit-faced Bill: Nah, like I’d fuck you, bro. Kieran, terrified: Okay, never mind!

- (How I imagine their first couple years together went)

Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: Dutch: How do you feel about me? Hosea, naked & beside him: ….we’re sharin’ a bedroll, Dutch. Dutch: Yes, but what are we, Hosea? Hosea: ….we’re both naked, alone, in a tent, Dutch. Dutch: That doesn’t answer my question. Hosea:

- (This one's sad, not funny, sorry-) John: You’re such a hypocrite, why is it that anything I do that you’ve done before that you get so bent outta shape?! Arthur: Because I’ve done it before you, John. John: So why do you think it’s fair to tell me not to?! Most people are proud when their younger brother ends up like’em. You don’t want anyone like you, is that it? Arthur: John: John: …oh. Arthur: Now that you got my point, will you take my god damn advice without a big fuss…please.

- John: She drives me insane! She somehow managed to make me the angriest I’ve ever been almost daily. NPC: Then leave her. John: The fu- no. What? She’s the wind beneath my wings, my darling wife, my beautiful angel. How the hell could you even think to suggest such a thing? NPC: But- John: Get outta my sight, you fuckin’ disgrace.

[allthemeniveloved]

Masterlist

May the wind be at your back

Good fortune touch your hand

May the cards lay out-a-straight

All from your command

ao3

requests: open

nsfw = *

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

It Will Come Back - completed

John Marston fell in love with you the moment the Van Der Lin gang rescued you from an O'Driscoll hideout all those years ago. Now, after the bitter end to a tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship with Arthur, John's feelings have become increasingly difficult to hide from not only you, but Arthur as well.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4* | Chapter 5* | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7* | Chapter 8 | Arthur's Ending Part 1 | Arthur's Ending Part 2* | John's Ending Part 1* | John's Ending Part 2

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

Northern Attitude

On a frigid night in Colter, you find solace in someone else's cot, causing tension to boil over.

Arthur's Chapter | John's Chapter

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

One Shots

Little Rat - Arthur

Blood and Bonds - Dad!John

Cradle - Dad!Arthur

Too Sweet - Dad!Arthur

Do I look like him?* - John

Token - Charles

Almost - John

Devil* - John

Heat - John

[aurora-basin]

@ mary, molly, & abigail haters

[phant0mmm-jaiden]

‼️ I FINISHED MAKING BIRTHDAYS FOR THE RDR2 GANG‼️ (under the cut)

these are my own personal headcanon (with some help from the comments) so take with a grain of salt, we may have different interpretations

(source for all traits is zodiacsign.com)

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

- Founding member, for 23 years (1876, when he was 21)

- 44 in May 1899

- Born April 11th 1855 (Aries)

Positive Apr 11th traits: “Assertive, strong and remarkably passionate, they will burn every obstacle in their way if they have something to strive for. They are excellent workers and managers, showing initiative with just enough tact to be loved by a team they work in.”

Negative Apr 11th traits“Preoccupied with their own problems, they could fail to see what their friends and close people are going through. Self-centered, too feisty, ready for battle when it isn't necessary, reactive, and sometimes aggressive when they should remain calm.”

HOSEA MATTHEWS

- Founding member, for 23 years (since 1876, when he was 32)

- 55 in May 1899

- Born October 22nd 1843 (Libra)

Positive Oct 22nd traits: “Warm, open for emotional contact, and nurturing, they are tender and kind to those they love and treat everyone with enough empathy to resolve issues at hand. Their emotional sensitivity is their greatest strength.”

Negative Oct 22nd traits: “Covered in sadness, broken and depressed, they might lose faith if they don’t give themselves time to rest and regenerate from past experiences. Tied by stories of their ancestors, they could simply play parts of others without getting truly invested in their own life and their happiness.”

ARTHUR MORGAN

- In gang for 23 years (since 1876,when he was 13)

- 36 in May 1899

- Born September 30th 1862 (Libra)

Positive Sep 30th traits: “Truthful, powerful, deep and ready to commit to issues that are too painful for other people, they have the power to change the unchangeable and build a sense of magic in their life that allows them to attract and control their own destiny and heal others of prejudice.”

Negative Sep 30th traits: “Depressed or lost in what they’ve been taught, they could be too scared to get out of their usual directions and choices in life, getting stuck in mental activities that keep them unsatisfied, egocentric or grumpy.”

SUSAN GRIMSHAW

- In the gang for 14 years (since 1885, since she was 29)

- 45 in 1899

- Born March 27th 1854 (Aries)

Positive Mar 27th traits: “Standing out, innovative and wide in perception of the world, they are good friends and tend to build a social circle that can support them in their path. Free to shine and give freedom to other people.”

Negative Mar 27th traits: “Stressed, torn between extremes, their mood changes without warning. They can get aggressive if too much anger builds up, unsure how they will react or what their next move will be.”

JOHN MARSTON

- In gang for 14 years (since 1885, when he was 12)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born August 3rd 1872 (Leo)

Positive Aug 3rd traits: “Straightforward, on the move, and wide in their opinions, they are the travelers with a cause, those who share their views and their knowledge selflessly, and wish to give their energy to those willing to follow.”

Negative Aug 3rd traits: “Stubbornly chasing after things that aren’t real, they could get stuck in a loop of disappointment and mental efforts that won’t lead them where they wish to go.”

SIMON PEARSON

- In the gang for 13 years (since 1886, since he was 35)

- 48 in 1899

- Born December 16th 1850 (Sagittarius)

Positive Dec 16th traits: “Laughter, positivity, and a fun personality ordain those born on December 16th for as long as they are in tune with their talents. Emotionally charged, they stay on the move, give love to be loved, and understand how to create balance when they find themselves falling into an extreme.”

Negative Dec 16th traits: “Lost in confusion of relating with others, they absorb atmospheres, feelings and ultimately opinions of others, thinking that their personality is defined by what others see instead of feeling their own core of Self.”

LEOPOLD STRAUSS

- In the gang for 12 years (since 1887, since he was 41)

- 53 in 1899

- Born in September 10th 1845 (Virgo)

Positive Sep 10th trait: “Deep, intelligent and extremely powerful, they are focused and dedicated to the higher truth and find change satisfying, without fear of what tomorrow might bring. They bring order to large things in the lives of people around them and announce change everywhere they go.”

Negative Sep 10th traits: “Obsessive, possessive and jealous, they can get dismissive of other people's ways and unwilling to recognize their own shadows while judging others. When bruised, they may become vindictive or manipulative.”

UNCLE

- In the gang for 11 years (since 1888, since he was 43)

- 57 in 1899

- Born May 6th 1842 (Taurus)

Positive May 6th traits: “Loving, creative, good with children, they are positive individuals with a lot of energy to live life to the fullest. Humorous, smiling, and grounded, they search for a place to belong to and connect easily to other people.”

Negative May 6th traits: “Unaware of the bigger picture, too focused on problems when they become aware of them, they can get obsessive and go into negative details for days. At times superficial in search for pleasure, but only if their heart isn’t open for relating.”

JOSIAH TRELAWNY

- In the gang for 9 years (since 1890, since he was 31)

- 40 in 1899

- Born May 26 1859 (Gemini)

Positive May 26th traits: “Loving, emotional, kind and caring, they are the messengers of beauty and laughter, humorous enough to make a grown person turn into a little child if this is their intent.”

Negative May 26th traits: “Using the power of words for strange things, unsatisfied and unable to find balance between emotion and reason, they get lost waiting and thinking about times when they were actually free while missing opportunities to set free in the now.”

ORVILLE SWANSON

- In the gang for 8 years (since 1891, since he was 38)

- 46 in 1899

- Born November 29th 1852 (Sagittarius)

Positive Nov 29th traits: “Idealists with a cause, they dream big and aren’t afraid to try themselves out in talents that make them who they are. On the quest for inner truth, they are sensitive, empathic and honest about the way they feel with people they love.”

Negative Nov 29th traits: “Seeking attention and unable to untangle issues that keep them intoxicated or tied to the past, they could get lost, searching for ways to anesthetize that pain and forget what bruised them in the first place.”

BILL WILLIAMSON

- In the gang for 5 years (since 1894, since he was 28)

- 33 in May 1899

- Born in April 27th 1866 (Taurus)

Positive Apr 27th traits: “Strong-hearted individuals, filled with vigor and energy for things that make them feel passionate. They are different but social, well-incorporated into society, and make excellent friends who find humanitarianism and compassion to be everything that is right in the world.”

Negative Apr 27th traits: “Sloppy, unsure what they wish to do with their energy and frustrated with their own nature. In opposition to themselves, they are unable to heal their own inner differences, becoming frustrated and passively angry at other people.”

ABIGAIL ROBERTS

- In the gang for 5 years (since 1894, since she was 17)

- 22 in 1899

- Born October 20th 1876 (Libra)

Positive Oct 20th traits: “Deeply emotional and empathic, if they keep their heart open throughout changes in their life, they become healers and incredible support in times of crisis and all possibly dangerous situations in the lives of others.”

Negative Oct 20th traits: “Casting their feelings away, they could become cold, distant, too difficult to relate to, and vindictive. They need a strong foundation to grow from and won’t be at all pleasant if they don’t learn to regenerate and flow with the beat of their heart.”

KAREN JONES

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since she was 21)

- 25 in 1899

- Born June 12th 1873 (Gemini)

Positive June 12th traits: “Emotional, sensitive, compassionate and willing to listen, they are less rational than other Gemini representatives and this gives them more space for relating and reaching for the Divine Love.”

Negative June 12th traits: “Moody, torn between different roles and too adaptable to people and situations that don’t make them feel good. They get self-destructive when unable to deal with their own emotional baggage.”

JAVIER ESCUELLA

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since he was 22)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born August 13th 1872 (Leo)

Positive Aug 13th traits: “Energetic, focused visionaries, ready to act with initiative and clarity of ideals, they are the ones to fight for the cause and move forwards when others would stay behind. They are warm, passionate people, ready to learn new things and move one step ahead of the rest of the world.”

Negative Aug 3rd traits: “Feeling as if they were all mighty, they often get caught up in their own ambitions and strivings, expecting nothing less than perfect from their ways of expression and battles that might be impossible to win.”

JACK MARSTON

- In the gang for 4 years (since 1895, since he was born)

- 4 in May 1899

- Born November 7th 1894 (Scorpio) (tried to be based on RDR1 but i’ve never played it 😬)

Positive Nov 7th traits: “Innovative, groundbreaking, different and individualistic, they understand that their greatest quality hides in their special way of standing out. Reliable friends with a need to fight for the greater good, they are those who bring necessary changes into a dysfunctional system.”

Negative Nov 7th traits: “In their battles they might get lost, become aggressive and pushy, losing contact only to pursue information held in their mind. Their mental processes get detached from their heart, leading them into abusive states towards self and others when they should be simply flowing with the times.”

MARY-BETH GASKILL

- In the gang for 3 years (since 1896, since she was 20)

- 23 in May 1899

- Born March 3rd 1876 (Pisces)

Positive Mar 3rd traits: “Great learners, teachers, and healers, they find love and beauty in everything they see and touch. It is their talent to use their optimism and beliefs, and turn every negative thing and experience to art, acceptable fate, and a step to a brighter future.”

Negative Mar 3rd traits: “In denial, distant, lost, they can be wanderers that cannot find the right direction to move in. Their defense mechanism protecting them from hardship is delusion.”

TILLY JACKSON

- In the gang for 3 years (since 1896, since she was 17)

- 20 in May 1899

- Born February 18th 1879 (Aquarius)

Positive Feb 18th traits: “Passionate, creative, focused, and understanding, this is someone able to sense the moment when the leader is needed, bravely becoming one. Fast and fiery, on their search for emotion, they wish to stay open-hearted throughout their lifetime.”

Negative Feb 18th traits: “With boundaries shaken, they can dismiss emotions, becoming overly rational and turned to the practical future in front of them. Unaware of their own sensitivity and hurt they might have caused to other people.”

MOLLY O’SHEA

- In the gang for 2 years (since 1897, since she was 22)

- 24 in May 1899

- Born May 4th 1875 (Taurus)

Positive May 4th traits: “Dependable, organized, ambitious, and responsible, they are easy to work and plan a future with. Just and turned to values of interpersonal bonding that lead them towards ideals.” 

Negative May 4th traits: “A bit dark, difficult, and stiff, they can be set in their mind and unable to change. Stuck in a moment, a relationship or a job that makes them unhappy, it is their imperative in life to find faith and let go to the pull of the Universe.”

SEAN MACQUIRE

- In the gang for 1 years (since 1898, since he was 25)

- 26 in May 1899

- Born July 23rd 1872 (Leo) (sign rec from anon)

Positive July 23rd traits: “Optimistic, with a fine sense of humor and ready to chase off any negative emotions with their smile, they are positive, loving and supportive of those they care for. Travelers and teachers, they have something important to give to the world.”

Negative 23rd traits: “Scattered and pushed by too many beliefs they never questioned, they tend to spin in circles of negative choices, lost in their inability to receive as much as they give away or vice versa.”

CHARLES SMITH

- In the gang for 9 months (Since August 1898, since he was 26)

- 27 in May 1899

- Born November 1st 1871 (Scorpio)

Positive Nov 1st traits: “Centered, standing firm on their identity and seeing the light in others, they make wonders in therapeutic and supportive relationships with those who are insecure and find it hard to stand confident on their own two feet. Strong-willed and ready to learn, they are the ones to lead the way when their beliefs are set in place.”

Negative Nov 1st traits: “Getting lost among strong individuals meant to inspire them, they give up on their true role due to lack of belief in their own emotional world and their personal convictions. This could get them lost and put their talents to waste out of the need to prove themselves worthy.”

LENNY SUMMERS

- In the gang for 9 months (since 1898, since he was 19)

- 19 in May 1899

- Born June 5th 1880 (Gemini)

Positive June 5th traits: “Childlike, curious, excited about life and focused on their daily sources of happiness, they are humorous and always with a nice thing to say in just the right moment.”

Negative June 5th traits: “In need of a different view, they could get stuck in patterns that don’t give much room for personal growth. If their hearts close, they become superficial and uncaring for the wellbeing of those who aren’t in their closest social circle.”

MICAH BELL

- In the gang for 4 months (Since december 1898)

- 39 in May 1899

- Born January 1 1860 (Capricorn)

Positive Jan 1st traits: “Powerful and resourceful individuals with an incredible potential for a successful life, influential and knowing exactly where they belong. They are assertive, strong-willed, with a deep understanding for natural development of any issue at hand.”

Negative Jan 1st traits: “Inventors and great minds that turn to solitude and separate from the ideal of emotional fulfillment. Manipulative, they may be using questionable methods to reach their goals.”

SADIE ADLER

- In the gang for a few months (since May 1899, since she was 25)

- 25 in May 1899

- Born July 4th 1873 (Cancer)

Positive July 4th traits: “Focused on their goal point, ambitions and understanding the consequences of their deeds, they are strong, endurable and extremely reliable as friends and confidants.”

Negative July 4th traits: “Dark and filled with depressing thoughts, they can get pulled by negative emotions, memories they don’t know how to metabolize, and nostalgic turns that pull them into harmful circumstances that weaken their boundaries.”

KIERAN DUFFY

- In the gang for a few months (since May 1899, since he was 28)

- 28 in May 1899

- Born January 20th 1871

Positive Jan 20th traits: “Compassionate, caring, sensitive and talented, this is someone who can create incredible things if emotionally supported by all the right people. Nurtures their inner child and cares for others greatly even when holding back instead of showing their affection.”

Negative Jan 20th traits: “Closed from the rest of the world, unable to find meaning in hurtful experiences from the past and questioning their vision daily, these individuals easily turn to destructive tendencies.”

THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP ‼️

[the-karma-cafe]

My Kingdom for a Dance | Arthur Morgan

a/n: excerpt from a way longer work in progress i was working on many months ago, and haven't had the time to work on more. better to get something out now than nothing out ever, right ? - also will probmaybe post this on ao3 under same user

Arthur hummed, either not believing me or just not caring, and his eyes skipped down my form to the bottle clutched in my hand. His eyes widened a fraction, and he laughed, “You’re not messin’ around, little lady!”

I took another sip, trying to act nonchalant (never before had I fought a cringe so hard). “This is nothin’.” I shrugged.

Something sparkled in his eyes at that. “Oh yeah?” he laughed, and cocked his head over towards the other table. “You wanna put yer money where yer mouth is, sweetheart?” His hands rested heavy on his belt as he looked down at me.

I balked (and attempted to ignore the small flutter my heart made) at that. My eyes dragged over to the other table where Micah was pouring shots with Bill and John. I hadn’t meant for it to sound like a challenge.

Well. I couldn’t very well back down now, could I? Not when he was looking at me like that, calling me that.

I swallowed back my nerves and strolled over to the table like it didn’t matter. He snickered behind me, following.

“Thirsty, sugar pie?” Micah sneered up at me as I plopped down next to John.

“Parched,” I retorted, grabbing one of the shots from his spot across the table. Arthur settled down next to him, across from John, Bill, and I, and grabbed one of his own.

“One… two…” Bill began to count, but Micah threw his back before the other man finished. Irritated at not being followed, Bill scoffed and awkwardly cut himself off, throwing his back as well. John, Arthur, and I followed suit.

Or, well, John and Arthur did. Half the moonshine made it down my throat before I gagged and spit the rest back in the cup. Micah barked a laugh at me. “Bet you’d do better with somethin’ else in yer mouth, huh, girlie?” John laughed along with him.

My cheeks burned, if not for the drink, then especially for that. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I bit back, stuffing down my embarrassment.

“Well,” he curled up his lip, “if the lady is offering…” He leaned back to gesture towards his lap.

I opened my mouth before I knew what I wanted to say, but thankfully was cut off. “You’re a real charmer, ain’tcha?” Arthur drawled. I glanced over at him, seeing that his cheerful expression from earlier had soured.

Micah shrugged and pushed up and away from the table. “Just the merry dance of the sexes,” he raised his hands in mock-defense. Bill pushed up to follow after him. Micah waved at me, his eyes narrowed and his grin wide. I looked back to Arthur.

“Creep.” Arthur muttered, his eyes not leaving the table.

My heart warmed a little. Arthur often defended the other women of camp from Micah’s comments, but I’d never had that kindness extended to me before now. It was sweet, his protectiveness. His gaze shifted across the table to my drink. He cracked a smile, “You gonna finish that?”

I snorted, pulling the cup towards me. “This is probably half-spit, you don’t want it.” I brought it back up to my nose, trying not to cringe at the smell. I held it away from me again. “How the hell d’you guys do this?”

John chuckled beside me. “Just don’t think about it, I guess.”

I nodded and took his advice, trying to throw the alcohol over my tongue to choke it back. I wasn’t sure what the percentage was on moonshine, but I was sure it didn’t matter at this point, my head now well-fuzzed. Arthur’s eyes were trained on me, a small smile on his lips. “You really are all talk.”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile of my own. “Whatever.”

Arthur and John took a couple more shots, getting sloppier by the minute. John was friendly next to me, slinging his arm around my shoulder and talking too loudly in my ear. It was nice, though, hanging out with the two of them. Strange, but nice.

ARTHUR POV

He watched John say something else to her, but he wasn’t sure what, nor did he really care. His gaze was shadowed under his hat, staring across the table at them. John laughed, pulling (Y/N) closer as he rocked to the side. She smiled back at him, her cheeks ruddy. Arthur forced a laugh of his own, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered.

She looked nice.

He didn’t want to think about it, but with her right in front of him like this, it made things hard. He had tried all day not to think about that morning: waking up to the rest of the camp asleep, going to get coffee, getting distracted by the way the pale sun shone down on her hair, the sweet way she had her blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

He had found himself sketching it later, while waiting for Trelawney with Javier and Charles. He remembered closing his journal a little too quickly when he realized Trelawney had walked up and stood behind him to announce himself.

And she had washed his jacket. It was the slightest bit damp, but he kept it on anyway, even after he rode off. She pulled it out from under that blanket, bunched up by her side, and handed it to him. He wondered briefly how it would look on her一if she’d look as sweet in his jacket as she had with her blanket; if she’d grow to prefer it more.

He threw back another drink, seeking to quiet his thoughts. It didn’t matter, anyway.

John scowled at something (Y/N) said, and got up, stumbling off somewhere else. She turned those eyes of hers on Arthur. He fought the urge to look away, holding her gaze. “What’s his problem?” he asked.

“Told him to go see the missus,” she smiled, taking a sip of her beer. He forced himself to look away from the unfair way her lips looked pressed against it.

“Ah,” he hummed in understanding, raising his cup in acknowledgement. “Smart idea, gettin’ him to do it while he’s drunk.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Dutch’s gramophone clicked to life, playing some fun, but calm, instrumental. Arthur glanced over, watching Dutch turn away from the machine and hold his hands out to Miss O’Shea, who happily stepped into his embrace. They swayed together to the music, her high laughter floating over the noise.

“That’s sweet,” (Y/N) whispered from across the table, just loud enough for him to hear. He looked back to her, watching her watch them, a soft expression on her face.

The sun was almost completely hidden behind the mountains now, the last valiant orange fading from the sky. Light from the nearby oil lamps and campfire took its place, most of her face shadowed despite their efforts. It played on the apple of her cheek, the bridge of her nose, the reflection in her eyes. His fingers itched for his journal again.

“D’you wanna dance?”

She blinked in surprise, and looked over at him. That was strange, though, because he hadn’t said anything. He wondered who asked her, although he hoped she would say no to them, and stay with him instead. Her cheeks appeared to flush the slightest bit一or maybe he was just seeing things一and she shyly smiled.

“Sure, Arthur, I’d love to.”

Oh. He asked.

He felt a heat of his own creep up the back of his neck and ears, and hoped it didn’t show. He stood up abruptly from the table, and swayed a bit on his feet. She mirrored his movement, getting up and steadying herself.

He held out his hand, forcing the other behind his back awkwardly. “M’lady,” he joked.

She giggled and placed her hand in his. It was a bit roughened compared to the night before, but still soft. It likely wouldn’t stay this way for long, running with them.

He tugged gently (or he tried to, at least), pulling her closer. She made a small noise of surprise and stumbled over to him, placing her other hand between them before they collided. It rested heavy on his chest, more an indicator of her drunken state than anything else. Warmth spread from her to him, and he wondered if he was giving any back.

Arthur brought up his hand to rest clumsily at her hip, unsure where exactly to place it. Why had he asked her to do this, again? He was clearly just going to embarrass himself.

Wherever he had settled it, though, she seemed content with, and she smoothed her hand up from his chest to rest on his shoulder. The line of contact seared like fire over him, and he made some noise in his throat. He hoped she hadn’t heard.

With their other hands clasped together, they swayed gracelessly, but he didn’t mind, and she didn’t seem to neither, a broad smile stretching her face. Her rings felt cool pressed against the heat of his palm. She kept laughing every now and then, stepping on his toes or knocking their knees together. He couldn’t find it in him to care.

He attempted a twirl at some point, but halfway through she fell backwards, losing her balance. He reached out and caught her, selfishly letting her head and back fall against his chest. “Y’alrigh’?” he slurred.

She tilted her head back, her face upside down, looking up at him with a sly grin. The campfire light caught her chest and jaw. “Better now in these big arms o’ yours, cowboy.” She winked, a stupid grin on her face.

He almost dropped her out of surprise. He stiffened, forcing out an awkward laugh that he hoped sounded casual.

This was ridiculous, he wasn’t some blushing schoolgirl. She was just teasing. He willed his taut muscles to relax.

“‘S that right?” he brought his arms around her to cage her in, linking his hands together by the front of her hips一two can play at this game, Miss (L/N). He leaned his head down by her face. “How ‘bout now?” he cooed.

The grin dropped from her face, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, an embarrassed flush painting her cheeks. Damn, he hadn’t meant to come off like Micah.

His grip loosened, nervous now. (Y/N) wasn’t nearly as close with him as the other girls were, and he inwardly cursed himself for getting familiar with her like this. If only Mary-Beth or someone else had been nearby when he’d asked to dance一he could’ve pretended like he’d been asking them. Shit, he would’ve danced with John if he had to.

“I’m probably about perfect, now,” she recovered, her laugh ringing up towards him like a bell. She moved her head back to face forward, snuggling back against his chest.

He exhaled, a stupid grin overtaking his face. He began to rock them side-to-side, listening to the campfire song that had sprung up between Bill and Karen, the latter perched on a certain Irishman’s lap. Arthur hummed along under his breath, resting his chin on her head. Her hair was soft, still, just like the first time. This was nice. She was nice.

He wasn’t sure when his eyes had drifted closed, but (Y/N) made no attempt to leave his bear hug, and he found himself thankful for it. He felt his throat still rumbling with song, but wasn’t sure if he was humming anymore or actually singing.

“You don’t mind if I take over from here, do you, Arthur?” an amused voice whispered beside him. He cracked his eyes open, dragging his chin across her head to look at Hosea. The man was staring at him with a sort of fond pity, and he didn’t like it. He wasn’t a child. (Y/N) moved out from his embrace and he stepped back, keeping his hands up to steady her if he needed to.

She swayed, but Hosea caught her arm, throwing it over his shoulder and stepping in front of her. “Oh, hello, Hosea,” she greeted politely, but glanced around in confusion. Hosea jutted his chin over to where Arthur stood behind her, and she craned her neck to look at him.

He felt awkward and big and out-of-place, now, all by himself. He flexed his hands by his side and gave her a tight smile.

“Thank you for dancing with me, Arthur,” she said sweetly, her gaze fixed on him. The red bloom of drink had held steadfastly to her cheeks, her eyes glinting in the light of the oil lamps.

He felt himself nod and grunt some sort of response before he turned on his heel and trudged off towards his tent. That was enough drinking for him.

~Journal updated.

On one side, a detailed sketch of a plant, the words “Indian Tobacco” scrawled next to it. On the other side, a sketch of (Y/N) in the morning, her blanket tightly wrapped around her shoulders. There are the beginnings of a focus on her hair, with a random sharp line dragged to the side, as if the artist was startled.

[blxkstar]

𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄

The gang of criminals, rebels, and radical minds who decided to reject civilization in favor of living under their own rules. I made this playlist with music that I believe fits the Van Der Linde gang. Please check it out!

"They can pummel us as hard as they like, but we will always get back up and fight. That's who we are. Outlaws for life, fellers"

"Nothin' means more to me than this gang, the bond that we share. It's the most real thing to me. I would kill for it, I would happily die for it."

"You kill, I kill. You rob, I rob. Only difference I can see is I choose whom I kill, and rob, while you destroy everything in your path."

"This place... ain't no such thing as civilized."

[highlandhour]

I have this idea of like, you looking after baby Jack with Abigail when John left after he was born. Abigail begins to call you Jacks second mother. You both were his mothers.

John returns. Abigail wants him back in Jacks life. You absolutely do not. Jack already has two parents now. John had made his decision and he wasn’t that parent.

Queue you and John having a rivalry to not only be in Jacks life but Abigail’s too. probably also sexual tension between the three of you too

[6emo6zombie6]

heyyyy!! I was wondering if you could write about adult Jack Marston with a fem reader who is reserved, and quiet? Abigail and John are alive and Jack invites her over to beechers hope for dinner with his parents, can you write about each of their perspectives on her? (like what they think about her, her personality, etc.)

also, I wanted to thank you so much for you answering my other requests, youre such a good writer like AHH <33.

Hiii!!! I hope this is what you had in mind, had a little delay again because of school stuff ;(

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

The lion and the lamb ~~~~~ Jack Marston x reader

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

“And… you’re sure they’ll approve of me?” You asked for what seemed like the millionth time to Jack. You’d agreed to let him pick you up to formally introduce you to his parents and have dinner with them. Your anxiety had started to peak once Jack rode the two of you onto Beecher’s Hope, the house in the middle of the plot nearing.

“Yes,” Jack answered with a soft sigh. “I’m sure they will, my sweet. Nothin’ to worry about, okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded to yourself, chewing on your lip as you held onto Jack.

It wasn’t long before his horse came to a stop in front of the house. He got off with a swift motion, then helped you off like a true gentleman. You fixed your dress before walking up toward the porch, Jack’s mother and father already standing on it.

His mother looked like a sweet, yet somewhat stern woman, beautiful as can be. His father looked as rugged as him, their faces nearly identical.

Jack promptly introduced the three of you.

“This is my mother, Abigail—and my father, John.”

You gave a soft nod, shaking their hands before engaging in small talk.

Abigail was surprised at how soft and proper you spoke, not to mention the nice dress that made you look overdressed next to Jack. She wondered how a gentle soul such as you had been able to tame her rugged, gunslinger of a son.

Besides that, she was also intimidated, though not showing her worry as she spoke. You looked well-mannered and rich—her ranch must be a dump compared to the place you lived in. Even in her nicest evening wear she looked like a pawn next to you.

John, on the other hand, was proud of his son for finding a girl so gentle. He’d always been afraid of his son falling back in with the wrong people, that life was no longer one he wished to pursue. Jack looked more than happy to be with you, and somehow you had managed to break down his walls.

“Well,” Abigail broke a short silence, taking a last peek at your attire. “Let's head inside, then. Dinner’s cookin’.”

You glanced at Jack as he led you inside, the house smelling like leather and wood.

“You two can sit,” Abigail smiled, walking along the hallway to prepare the food. John stood in the living room, his hand resting on his gun belt awkwardly. He looked at the hallway in search of his wife, clearing his throat when he realized she wasn’t there.

“So,” He began, taking a seat at the table together with you and Jack. He sat opposite of you. “Jack treatin’ you right?”

Obviously, John was concerned about whether or not his son was treating his girlfriend decently. He wasn’t raised to think differently.

You blush softly.

“Yes, sir.” You nod, glancing at Jack.

“Good, good.” He nodded. “If that boy ever hurts you, you come to me, alright?” John could tell you were a frigid girl, someone he never expected to be with his son. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect you, the same urge you knew from Jack. He seemed to always be protecting you from other people, always treating you like you were about to break in his hands.

Jack gave his father a quick, slightly annoyed glance. John didn’t notice the glance, he was too busy inspecting you and trying to read you. You were a tad mysterious and hard to predict, seeing as you were so quiet and awkward, though you seemed to be at ease at the same time.

A few moments went by in silence before Abigail walked into the main area of the house, carrying two plates of stew. She placed the two plates in front of you and Jack before walking back to the kitchen to grab a plate for John and herself. She sat down at the table with a somewhat pensive expression.

“Thank you,” You smiled softly. Abigail couldn’t read whether or not you were truly thankful or just polite, but she smiled back anyway, going with the former for her comfort.

“Well then, dig in,” She said in a high-pitched tone, straightening her back as she scooped a spoonful of stew in her mouth.

“So,” She spoke up amidst the scraping of spoons, looking at you as you properly scooped away from yourself and blew at your food. “Tell us about yourself--what are your parents like?”

You take a quick bite before talking. Your voice was soft as you grew slightly anxious, three pairs of eyes fixed on you. “My mother’s a fine young woman,” you spoke positively, seeming to cheer up at the thought of your mother. “Daddy left us when I was just a girl… left me and momma with little money.” You spoke softly, failing to look either of Jack’s parents in the eye.

“But you’re uh… financially stable, as of now?” John asked, not aware of how rude of a question it was. You caught a glimpse of Abigail nudging her husband, making him shoot a confused glance at her, then at you.

“Uhm,” You blush, not entirely sure if that was an appropriate matter to discuss over dinner. Maybe it was, you weren’t usually all too social.

“We—we aren’t all that rich,” You stated sheepishly, taking another bite of your food.

Abigail gave a confused glance, though her face became neutral again as she realized her expression was slightly rude. She could’ve sworn you were a rich girl, she’d already imagined you living on some plantation with your family.

You caught her glance just in time, knowing she was puzzled by how you looked like you were part of a higher social class than she and her family were.

You smile softly, looking down with a blush.

“My momma’s very concerned with looking proper…” You mumble, shrugging lightly. “We ain’t got much to spend but she likes us to look like we do.”

“hm,” Abigail hummed, her expression softening now that she felt less pressured to impress you. Part of her wanted her son to marry into a rich family, but the part that wanted him to simply be happy had the upper hand.

“You’re a fine young lady,” She smiled, a genuine, sweet smile spreading across her cheeks. “My boy could use a well-mannered girl such as yourself.”

Abigail saw herself In you in a way; a young, slightly lost girl who’d somehow gotten herself mingled in the trance of a gunslinger. She could tell you were tough behind all the layers of shy, polite mannerisms. In a way, you were much like her son, yet the opposite.

“what is it you… uh—do in your free time?” John asked. He didn’t care about your answer, but he felt that he should know you well before you married his son, as one should. He was almost certain you were the one for his boy, the two of you could learn a lot from one another.

“I help my momma with chores,” You reply, shrugging softly as you realize you actually had little free time, all your time away from home and work was when you were together with Jack. “I don’t got much free time, me and momma both work since there ain’t no man in the house.”

John knew you left out the part where you hung out with Jack all the time. He was aware his son wasn’t always helping around the ranch, and he always came back smelling faintly of ladies’ perfume. He saw no harm in it, though. He knew you were safe with Jack.

“I admire that,” Abigail smiled, somewhat impressed. She didn’t know many women who worked to support the family. If you were to stay at their ranch, she was sure you were more than capable of helping out.

You smiled back and looked at your plate as you started to blush. You weren’t very used to getting compliments or praise from anyone other than Jack, even if he was stubborn and generally not good at showing his emotions. You grew shy again, taking a few bites of your stew.

Jack noticed you retreating into your shell, so he took the lead and started talking about you. It wasn’t long before he started rambling on and on about you, switching over to another subject, then back to you again. You stayed silent and focused on your food, nodding and humming when Jack said something that was correct. You answered a couple of additional questions that his parents asked, keeping the somewhat awkward conversation going until all of your plates were empty. Abigail promptly cleaned off the table and John followed her to the kitchen, using the privacy to talk about you.

You sat up and straightened your dress, making sure you hadn’t spilled anything on yourself. You never understood why your mother made you wear such bright colors, knowing you would get it dirty.

“It’s best I go now,” You say sheepishly, afraid Jack might judge you. He never did, not once. “Momma told me to be home before sundown.”

“Right,” Jack nodded, getting up out of his seat. He stared at you for a few seconds, taking in how gorgeous you looked. He hadn’t even told you that.

“You look like an angel,” He said with a soft smile, a few strands of his greasy dark hair hanging in front of his eyes. His words made you blush and look away. He leaned in and softly kissed your cheek, causing your cheeks to heat up even further.

“Come on, let's say goodbye and I’ll ride you home,” He took your hand and led you to the kitchen, where you thanked his parents for the meal and exchanged your goodbyes and goodnights.

[scarfacemarston]

It's here! My Ko-fi!

Credit to the wonderful @tacticalhimbo for creating this for me. He has done a lot of wonderful writing and creative work for me, so check him out! Please note or reblog to help out, if you're willing! I could really have help spreading the word so I can have some commissions and be able to pay my bills! Characters from all fandoms listed are welcome, but specialties are: Abigail Roberts Marston, John Marston, Bucky Barnes, Yelena Belova, Natasha Romanoff, Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Dragon Age's Fenris, Cullen Rutherford, Merill, Isabela, Harvey Dent, Poison Ivy, Daniel Molloy, Armand and SO many more.

[hihomeghere]

Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy) Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River. Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3

The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.

Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.

And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.

Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.

Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.

Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.

“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.

“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.

“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.

“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.

“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.

“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.

Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.

“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.

“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.

“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders

“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.

“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.

“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.

“Very.” He chuckles.

“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.

“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.

“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.

You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.

He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.

“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.

His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.

“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.

“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere darling.

Let the VDL gang suffer.

Or enjoy, idk lmao

— Silly

They would enjoy more than hate it.

Dutch would use it for his advantage. Dutch loves a yandere partner. Call him a switch the way he'd end up on a leash after he put you on one. ♡

Hosea can't help but scold his partner for some of their more seamless tendencies. He just doesn't want em' getting hurt for him. However, he's bashful and incredibly honored that you treat him so well―that you believe he is worthy of your love and affection. ♡

Arthur also likes his yandere partner. Sure, they have their flaws. But they're crazier than him. They match his freak. ♡

John is 'nuh uh'. You can't be enamored with him. He's in love with you! Stubborn. Tries to impress you―even though you're already whipped for him. ♡

Charles is... disappointed. You should have better self control. He does have a tendency to ignore his morals when it comes to you. There's just something so attractive about it. Will still try to get you to change for the better. You may break him down before he gets to that point. ♡

Javier seems coy but has thick emotional walls up. Eventually gives in. Likes watching you kill people for him. Double points if you use his knives to do so. ♡

Abigail is more confused in the beginning. You think she's worth this? Your affections? You're really obsessed with her? Is oddly into it. She feels happy that someone finally cares for her and Jack. Will lightly reprimand you after being in love with you for awhile. She's hesitant at first because she doesn't want to scare you off (as if she could). ♡

Sadie finds it endearing. Her darling doe is a bit possessive of her, eh? Earlier in the game she's more restrictive on your tendencies. She may reject them completely. By the end of the game she fully supports them. She may even reciprocate. ♡

[08melancholie]

isn't micah like. canonically racist and literally calls other characters slurs

This is genuinely the last time that I'll be talking about this and explaining myself and why I like Micah. Any other asks or comments about it I'll be deleting because this is getting tiring. Sorry to sound annoyed, because I am, since this is something I've already said times over.

You can like a character without supporting every single thing they do. I've made this clear multiple times and if you go to my directory, you'll find me talking about it on at least three other occasions. I don't support any of Micah's actions, especially his bigotry. However, I find his character interesting. Instantly assuming somebody agrees with EVERYTHING a character does is actually pretty harmful, not to mention stupid. I could do this with every single character in the RDR universe, for example Arthur and even worse, John.

Arthur is a canonical murderer. So does liking him immediately mean you support that and like that he's a killer? Of course not. How about John?

John is a canonical deadbeat that got Abigail pregnant when she was 17-18, while he was 22-23—possibly an illegal age gap, and if not, a really problematic and big one. He then leaves her for a whole year to care for Jack on her own, just to return and not get reprimanded almost at all. Then, he gets drunk and sexually harasses Karen; forcing her to sit in his lap which she instantly shows discomfort to and tells him off for. This is never spoken of again, and nobody else tells him off for doing it. Do all John fans agree with this? No, obviously not.

Do you see what I'm getting at? This logic is flawed and very insulting. I'm not trying to sound mean of course, but my point about "liking a character ≠ supporting all of their actions and choices" still stands.

[spongeyspot]

Poly Relationship HCs (SFW +NSFW)

(John Marston x fem!reader x Abigail Marston)

(A/N): A little longer than I anticipated. Also, I'm terrible at editing things so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, please don't bite me. I'm just a wee baby

Content warning: fluff, small mentions of infidelity, polyamory, female reader, you/she pronouns

SFW

- The relationship itself had probably started when either John or Abigail had started to catch feelings

- It was probably Abigail considering how distant John was from her in the beginning

- Quite honestly would probably keep your relationship a secret during the very early stages.

- She saw how much you cared about her and her family, so it was only natural for her to start to fall in love. She fell in love with John pretty quickly, too, though he was a bit slower to warm up to the idea of having a family

- You, however, love Jack as if he were your own, which makes Abigail swoon even more. Plus, another parent figure to Jack (Who he also really likes) because her husband is kinda useless half the time? Jackpot!

- When she brought up adding you to their relationship, John was probably pretty okay with the idea, even a little excited, though if she told him that she had been seeing you secretly before that, he'd probably be a little pissy.

- After adding you to their family, things seemed to move a lot smoother. John warmed up to the idea a lot quicker than both of you had anticipated

- You usually act as a mediator for a lot of Abigail and John's fights, but knowing John he'd probably say some shit like "Look, even she's on my side!" and Abigail would get pissed at you too.

- Abigail LOVES to hold you by the fire. John usually has his arm around the both of you with you sitting in the middle.

- Would take turns having you sleep with them at night because their bedrolls weren't really big enough to fit one person, let alone three.

- When the gang moved to Shady Belle, things were a lot easier with lodging. John loses his mind every time he gets to cuddle the both of you at the same time. He's a sucker for physical touch, really.

- After chores are finished, the three of you are usually found sitting under a tree, Abigail cuddled into your side while you read a book, and John lays on his back beside you, his head resting on your thighs. His hat is usually covering his face, but when it isn't, you or Abigail absentmindedly play with his hair or massage his scalp.

- Abigail loves it when you spend time with Jack. It makes her heart swell to see him having so much fun.

- You tend to encourage John to spend time with him as well, which she also appreciates.

- Family game nights end with You and Jack teamed up and absolutely wrecking John at dominoes while Abigail watches

- Says something like "I let you win." with a roll of his eyes before sulking away

- Pet names!

- John calls you 'Baby', 'Darlin'', 'Dollface', and even 'Sugartits' if he wants to get slapped

- Abigail calls you 'Honey', 'Sweetie pie', 'Honey Bun', or 'Pretty Girl'.

- Both John and Abigail enjoy physical affection.

- John likes to kiss your hair and squeeze your thighs.

- Abigail loves to kiss you on the cheek and hold your hand.

-If John walks by you, he will throw out an affectionate compliment or two

- "God, you look pretty today, (Name)."

- Also probably pinches or slaps your ass on his way by

- He secretly loves it when you slap or pinch his ass too, though he'd never actually admit it.

- Abigail is a bit more sultry with it, then goes back to normal like she didn't just blatantly hit on you

- "Damn, well look at you, Pretty girl. Don't you look fine this mornin'... Coffee?"

- Also pinches and slaps your ass, but also gives it a good squeeze, and will sometimes hold her hand on your ass instead of on your hip if you stand side by side.

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

Content Warnings: oral sex (m + f recieving), mean!dom!abigail, dacryphilia if you squint, edging, masturbation, voyeurism, cucking if you squint, risky sex, brat tamer!Abigail, spanking, biting, hickeys, marking kink, Mommy kink, praise, breeding, creampies, cum eating

- John and Abigail are both switches.

- John tends to be a top when it's just the two of you, but when Abigail is also part of the fun, he's most likely on his back, letting you both use him however you please.

- His favorite is when he's laying on his back and both you and Abigail take turns sucking his cock, occasionally pulling away to kiss. It makes him rock hard. Never mind how it feels... he could cum from the sight alone... his favorite girls worshipping his cock with all their enthusiasm and love.

- Abigail is a Dom/top a lot of the time. She can also be pretty mean about it.

- Abigail edges you to the point where sometimes, you'll cry out for her, begging her to let you finish. Every time she finally lets you, you always feel like you cum so much harder than you ever had before.

- John loves to sit back and jerk off, watching the two of you in bed together.

- Abigail sometimes does the same, sitting aside whilst rubbing and fucking her pussy with her fingers as she watches John fuck you into his bedroll

- Abigail loves it when you act like a brat - She likes to leave your ass red and sore from spanking you, and often orders John to do the same when she watches.

- Abigail also probably bites you a leaves hickeys to stake her claim on you. Makes sure to put them where everyone can see.

- John does the same, but it's usually below where your clothes would cover them like your breasts, stomach, or thighs

- John LOVES biting you. He loves making you squirm

- Abigail lowkey has a Mommy kink

- Abigail likes to call you her Pillow Princess, pulling beautiful noises from you as she makes you cum multiple times in quick succession with just her hands. Sometimes even her words.

- "Look at you, sweetie pie. All pretty and spread open, just for me. Oh, I know you just came... but... How's about one more, huh? Can you do that for Mommy?"

- There have been times when it's been just the two of you, and she's shown far more vulnerability than she's used to. During those times, she's on her back, a hand covering her mouth as you work her open with your mouth and fingers.

- Please praise the hell out of her during these times. She really needs it.

- Even when Abigail is vulnerable with you, she is still in control almost 99.99% of the time.

- John and Abigail are both certified munches

-John loves when both of you are on top of him, riding both his dick and his face.

- He eats pussy like his life depends on it. Fr like it's his last meal.

- He also loves to watch you eat pussy.

- He loves to fuck you in the doggy style position while Abigail buries your face between her legs.

- John usually likes to have sex in the privacy of his tent/room, whereas Abigail likes risky sex. She likes the idea of there being a possibility you could be caught

- there have been numerous times when she's stuck her hand into the front of your skirts while you sat the the dining table during mealtimes. As far as you both knew, the other people sitting there had been oblivious.

- John knows. He always knows. He was watching the whole time.

- He was usually the one to instigate it, always letting Abigail know whenever you forwent bloomers. (he would hide them so you couldn't wear them)

-Though he'd probably never participate himself, he loves to watch you come undone on Abigail's fingers in public.

- John fantasizes about getting you pregnant too.

- He brought it up to Abigail as a joke, saying how nice it would be for Jack to have a sibling to play with.

- From that point on, John was told to cum inside you every chance he got, not stopping even after you're swollen and round with his baby.

-Abigail enjoys eating you out after John has cum inside you.

[paradox-valleyy]

Lost and Found

Pre-Canon rdr 2 x Teen!fem!oc

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Taglist: @photo1030

Word count: 3,8k

Notes: “It’s scary trusting people”

A week had slipped by since Jolene walked out to the ranch with Sister Amelia. The Sister’s words had drifted in and out of her mind, but Jolene didn’t think much of them—this wasn’t her first visit to the church, after all. Reverend Thomas was a kind man, if a little odd in her eyes. He was generous to a fault, which she supposed was expected of a pastor, but there was something about him she couldn’t quite place. It left her uncertain, like the man didn’t fit neatly into her idea of people.

Jolene had been in this town for about seven months now, ever since she left her old town and a friendly couple had offered her a ride. She’d traveled with them for a few days, but when the outlines of a new town appeared on the horizon, she’d thanked them, jumped down, and set off alone. This town had a quiet charm—some people were pleasant enough, and most didn’t pay her any mind. But not everyone was easy to overlook. The Sheriff, for one, was a thorn in her side, always patrolling with a watchful eye that made Jolene feel like she stood out more than she wanted to. And then there was Mr. Finch, a man whose mere presence could steal the warmth from the sun. She’d only seen him up close twice: once with his wife, heavily pregnant as they entered the doctor’s office half a year back, and another time leaving the church just a few weeks ago. Jolene wouldn’t dream of lifting anything off a man like that; the consequences alone were enough to keep her at bay.

Now she sat in the cool shade of a narrow alley, nestled between Johnson’s shop and the saloon, working on her latest attempt at whittling. She’d borrowed a small knife and was trying to carve a wooden bear, though it looked more like a lumpy oval topped with a circle than anything resembling an animal. Still, she was focused, letting the shadowed alley shield her from the blistering Western sun as she chipped away, one small flake of wood at a time.

Jolene had worked at her little wooden bear for a while but eventually grew bored. After two hours, it looked a bit more bear-like, though hardly a masterpiece. Still, she nodded at her rough carving, then winced as she stood, her backside sore from sitting on the hard ground for so long. As she stepped out of the alley, she wandered up the porch of Johnson’s shop, leaving the wooden bear and the borrowed knife on the outer windowsill with a faint hint of satisfaction.

With the afternoon stretching lazily before her, Jolene headed toward the town’s outskirts, wondering how best to spend the hours until sunset, when she’d go to the saloon to gather her coins. It wasn’t much, but she’d learned how to sneak a few from the pockets of the saloon girls and sometimes had enough for a warm meal from the bar. Her stomach growled as she thought about it. Pickings had been slim lately—people had gotten to know her, and now, at the sight of her, their hands instinctively guarded their pockets.

Leaving the dusty roads behind, she followed the familiar path that led out of town, weaving along the riverbank and into the cool shelter of the woods. She considered visiting the ranch but knew it was too far to make it there and back in time to reach the saloon before dark. So instead, she trotted along the pathway , grateful for the damp, shaded air as it warded off the day’s relentless heat. Her mind wandered as she walked, lost in idle thoughts. Her hair had grown long enough to curl at the nape of her neck, and she’d grown a bit taller, though she still hadn’t filled out much. For now, her slim build kept her boyish-looking, but she knew that wouldn’t last forever.

Wandering off the trail, she spotted a large fallen tree. The trunk was thick, almost chest-high, and curiosity got the better of her. She scrambled up, struggling for a moment but managing to hoist herself on top. She tried to sit astride it as if riding a horse, but the trunk was too wide, so she simply stood, looking around with a newfound sense of height.

That’s when she noticed smoke rising in the distance. Jolene’s curiosity sparked to life, and she jumped down, moving toward the source of the fire with caution. As she drew closer, she slowed, pressing herself against a tree, listening intently. Voices drifted faintly from between the trees—several people by the sound of it. Her heartbeat quickened as she hesitated, wondering if she should risk it. A gathering like this could mean trouble, and she didn’t fancy getting caught up in it. After a few tense moments, she decided it was best to turn back. Life had finally settled into some kind of balance, and she didn’t want to tempt fate now.

By the time Jolene reached town, the sky had deepened into shades of light purple and orange, casting long shadows across the dusty streets. She strolled into the saloon, which was still quiet in the early evening, only a few regulars and a couple of travelers scattered across the tables. Jolene made her way toward a group of saloon girls lounging near the back, exchanging glances and laughter as they prepared for a long night ahead.

One of the women spotted her immediately. “Hey, Joel,” she called out, her voice smooth and teasing. “What brings you in here so early?”

Jolene grinned, letting a hint of her boyish charm play across her face. “Aw, nothin’ much,” she drawled, with a slight shrug. “Starvin’ out there on the streets, y’know how it is. But one look at you fine ladies, and I reckon I’m better fed than if I had a whole bowl of stew.” She winked, earning herself a few chuckles from the women. She’d picked up the knack for charm, a little trick she’d learned to keep folks from looking too close.

One of them sighed with a smile, reaching into her pocket. “You’re a good kid, Joel. Here, don’t go hungry,” she said, pressing a few coins into her hand. Another one tossed in a couple more, shaking her head in amusement.

“Well, ain’t you all too kind?” Jolene replied, her grin widening. “Much obliged, and good luck tonight, ladies.”

She sauntered over to the bar, where the barkeep was watching her with a smirk, having overheard the exchange. “You sure got a way with those ladies, Joel,” he joked, wiping down a glass.

Jolene shrugged, feigning confidence. “Only natural,” she said, tipping her nonexistent hat in mock swagger. “I’ll grow up a real lady’s man, mark my words.”

The barkeep chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, the stew ain’t quite ready yet,” he said. “If you’re lookin’ for somethin’ hot, you’ll have to sit tight for a spell.”

Jolene sighed, glancing around the room. “Fine, I’ll come by later” she muttered, preparing to wander back toward the door.

But as she turned, the barkeep called out to her, his voice shifting from friendly to firm. “And, Joel—listen here. I don’t want no more of your funny business in my saloon. You’re scarin’ off good customers with all that foolin’ around.”

Jolene rolled her eyes, then turned to face him with a half-smile, raising her hand in a playful salute. “Got it, sir. No trouble from me,” she replied, starting to back away.

Just as she turned toward the exit, she collided with something solid—a wall of muscle, by the feel of it. She stumbled back, glancing up at the man she’d just bumped into. He was tall, with light brown hair and a rough stubble lining his jaw, and the faintest scowl etched on his face. She recognized him instantly—the same man she’d seen with his buddy at Johnson’s shop last week.

“Sorry, mister,” she said quickly, forcing a respectful tone.

The man gave her a once-over, then tipped his hat just slightly, though his gaze was sharp. “Just watch where you’re goin’, kid,” he said, his voice a low rumble, before stepping past her toward the bar.

Jolene nodded, letting him move on before she quietly slipped out the saloon door, a bit relieved to be in the evening air again. She made a mental note to keep her head low around him from now on—she’d seen that look in a man’s eyes before, and it didn’t belong to the friendly type.

Jolene was on her way to Johnson’s, half-hoping he might be in one of his rare generous moods and toss her a peppermint or a caramel. She knew it was unlikely, but she’d grown used to small hopes, and Johnson’s treats had a way of making the day feel a bit sweeter, however briefly.

But her thoughts were broken by a scream that sliced through the air. She jerked her head toward the doctor’s office just in time to see Dr. Abery stumbling out, his face ashen, his eyes wild.

“A damn shame!” he cried, voice nearly cracking. “Who in their right mind’d do such a thing?”

Jolene frowned, her mind already turning. What in the hell…?

A crowd began to gather, drawn by the doctor’s outburst. The Sheriff appeared, storming down the street with a dark look, his boots pounding out a fierce rhythm as he pushed folks aside, his eyes set dead ahead on the doctor’s office. He brushed right past Jolene without a second glance, leaving her more intrigued. She noticed Johnson step out of his shop, narrowing his eyes toward the commotion.

“Somethin’ happen?” Johnson asked, glancing at her.

Jolene shrugged, playing it cool. “No idea,” she replied, though she felt a pull of curiosity tightening inside her as she joined Johnson on the porch, both of them straining to catch bits of the murmured conversation around them.

And then came a voice that made her heart skip a beat. The Sheriff’s voice, loud and angry, calling her alias: “JOEL!”

She froze. Shit. Her pulse quickened as she tried to keep her expression calm, though her mind raced.

Johnson glanced sideways at her, his brow lifted. “What’s this all about? You up to somethin’?”

Jolene forced a laugh, shaking her head. “Ain’t got a clue, Mr. Johnson.”

She was still trying to act nonchalant when she heard the Sheriff’s boots pounding toward her. She debated running, just tearing down the street and out of there—but that’d only make her look worse. Better to stay, look innocent.

She stepped down from the porch, trying to keep her shoulders loose. But before she could say a word, the Sheriff was on her, his palm coming down in a sharp, stinging slap that knocked her off balance. Before she could even react, his hand was at her collar, jerking her forward as his voice dripped with anger.

“Where is it, you little thief?” he snarled, his voice thick with accusation.

“Where’s what?” she managed, choking on her surprise, one hand grabbing at his wrist as he held her close enough that she could see the fury burning in his eyes.

“Don’t play games, Joel!” he spat, giving her another rough shake. “The nerve of you, takin’ what ain’t yours!”

She felt her pulse hammering in her ears, the humiliation sinking in as she realized everyone was watching. “I didn’t take nothin’! Wasn’t even in town till just now!” she protested, her voice hoarse, desperation slipping into her tone.

“Oh yeah?” he sneered, his grip tightening painfully. “And who’s gonna vouch for you, huh?”

She clamped her mouth shut, realizing she had no alibi. No one would be able to confirm where she’d been. The Sheriff’s eyes gleamed with grim satisfaction at her silence, and he slapped her again, this time hard enough that her cheek flared with pain.

“Now,” he said, his voice a low, menacing growl, “hand it over. Everything ya took.”

The crowd watched, their faces hard and judgmental, their stares boring into her. She’d felt like an outsider in this town before, but now their silent verdict left her feeling exposed, small, and utterly alone. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her head up even as her heart twisted with a mix of shame and frustration. Nobody believed her—hell, nobody even questioned if she might be innocent.

The Sheriff tightened his grip on her arm, and his rough hands started patting her down. He found the few coins she’d managed to collect earlier and tossed them to the dirt, sneering.

“That all you got, boy?” he mocked, giving her a dark look as he continued his search, hands roaming her pockets and every corner of her clothes.

Then his fingers brushed against the chain around her neck. Her heart seized.

No, please no. But he’d already noticed, his face twisting with a smug sort of triumph as he reached into her shirt collar, his hand finding the small necklace and yanking it free, the chain digging painfully into the back of her neck before snapping.

“No!” she gasped, her voice breaking, her hands reaching instinctively to try to grab it back.

He held it up, dangling the necklace in front of her face. “Oh, ‘no,’ is it? Figured you stole this too, didn’t ya?”

Her breath hitched, panic flaring up as she saw the small ring hanging from the broken chain. She watched helplessly as he tossed it to the side, the ring slipping free and falling to the dirt at her feet. It was her last bit of comfort, a scrap of memory, something she hadn’t let go of since she’d started wandering these dusty trails. She lunged downward, desperate to snatch it up, but the Sheriff shoved her back, hard, sending her sprawling to the ground.

He glared down at her, his face twisted in disgust. “Where’s the rest of it, huh?” he demanded, voice harsh.

“I didn’t take nothin’,” she murmured, her voice hoarse, trembling with the weight of the tears threatening to fall. She felt hollow, worn out by the humiliation.

The Sheriff scoffed, clearly unimpressed, and gave her one last contemptuous look. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered before turning on his heel and heading back toward the doctor’s office.

Jolene sat there in the dirt, her cheek stinging from the slaps, the ache in her heart cutting deeper than any of the bruises. All around, people were watching, their faces twisted with judgment and disappointment. Not one of them spoke up in her defense. Not one of them had a shred of faith in her.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight, her heart feeling heavier than ever. Even Dr. Abery, whose eyes held a faint sadness, had looked away with disappointment.

They all think I’m the thief, she realized, a bitter ache sinking into her bones.

Slowly, she scrambled to her knees, her hands trembling as she reached for the broken necklace and the ring lying in the dirt. She held them close, clutching the torn pieces to her chest, something inside her breaking with each tear that slipped down her cheeks. She finally rose, glancing back one last time to see Johnson shaking his head, his lips pressed tight.

Unable to bear it any longer, she turned and ran, her legs carrying her out of town and away from their accusing stares. She didn’t stop, her heart pounding as she ran past the last buildings, her breathing ragged and shallow, her thoughts churning in a blur of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

By the time she reached a large rock by the path, she couldn’t run any further. She collapsed against it, sliding down until she was sitting with her back pressed against the cool stone. She stared down at the torn necklace in her hands, her breath hitching as the storm of emotions finally overtook her.

And then the tears really came, fierce and unrelenting, pouring down her cheeks as she sobbed, the anguish spilling out in waves. Her cheek throbbed, her hands were scraped from the fall, but none of it mattered next to the hollow ache gnawing at her heart.

She curled her fingers tightly around the broken chain, her chest heaving with grief and frustration. She hadn’t thought it would hurt this bad, hadn’t thought that one slap, one broken chain, could make her feel so utterly defeated. But as she sat there, clutching the last piece of her past, she realized the weight of her loneliness—the kind that no clever disguise, no snappy comeback, could ever hide.

Back in town, as the crowd thinned and the gossiping settled, people still shot glances toward Dr. Abery’s office, where the Sheriff’s raised voice could be faintly heard. Standing alone on the saloon porch, a tall cowboy with dust-streaked boots and a gunbelt slung low across his hips took it all in, a deep frown creasing his brow. With a muttered, “Well… hell,” he felt the weight of Dr. Abery’s money hanging heavy in his satchel. He let out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before heading toward his horse, already feeling the sting of regret settling like a bad taste in his mouth.

He mounted, urging his horse into an easy gait down the dirt road leading out of town, his sharp eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of the kid. Not far out, he finally spotted a slumped figure beside a big rock near the edge of the path. Another sigh escaped him as he pulled the horse to a stop, letting her trot onto the grass. He reached into his saddlebag, pulling out a peppermint stick before heading over slowly.

The kid, hearing his boots on the ground, looked up, his tear-streaked face quickly buried against his sleeve, wiping his cheeks. Seeing the cowboy, he put on a tough front, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Don’t be cryin’ none, boy,” the cowboy said, his voice low as he leaned against the big stone. “Folks like them back there… they ain’t worth it.”

Jolene pushed herself to her feet, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and caution. “You’re the man from the saloon,” she said, sizing him up.

He gave her a nod, then held out the peppermint stick. “Here,” he said, offering it like a peace offering, his mouth twitching with a faint smile.

She took it hesitantly but didn’t unwrap it just yet, her gaze still wary as she studied him. “Why’d you come after me?” she asked, suspicion flickering in her voice.

The cowboy scratched at his beard, glancing out toward the open plains before answering. “What the Sheriff did… didn’t sit right with me.” His tone was calm but firm, like he’d come to a decision about her that he couldn’t quite explain.

She gave him a long, searching look before leaning back against the rock, finally unwrapping the peppermint stick and sticking it in her mouth. Her other hand still clutched the broken chain and ring, and she looked down at them, the sadness in her eyes clear.

“You live back in that town?” he asked after a long, uncomfortable silence.

“No. Not anymore. Not like I ever really did,” she muttered, the words coming out quieter than she meant.

The cowboy nodded, his eyes softening a bit, and for a moment, they both stood in silence, just watching the sky darken a shade as the sun slipped lower.

After a beat, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cautious. “You don’t think I took it, do you?” Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a spark of vulnerability there.

He scratched his beard again, considering his words before he shrugged. “Didn’t seem like it to me.”

She nodded, relief visible in her small smile. “I didn’t take it. Dr. Avery… well, he’s been real deep in debt, I heard. His wife was real sick before she died, and he paid a fortune for her medicine. Spent everythin’ he had.” She didn’t notice the way her words deepened the guilt in his expression. He’d thought the doctor was doing well enough, seeing the fine trimmings in his home when he’d snuck in through the back.

He sighed. “Arthur Morgan,” he introduced himself, a touch of his former confidence creeping back.

“Joel,” Jolene mumbled, and she unclutched the broken chain, looking down at it with sorrow. Arthur glanced at the ring in her hand and gave a slight nod.

“That there can be fixed,” he said without thinking.

Her face lit up, hope flickering in her eyes. “Really?”

Arthur nodded. “Maybe someone back at camp’s handy enough to do it. And if not, I’ll pay to have it done proper.”

She looked at him, suspicion creeping back in. “Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”

He shrugged, searching for the words. “Just feel bad for ya, son,” he replied, his voice gruff. Jolene looked at him, considering, then nodded, maybe starting to believe this cowboy was more generous than he seemed.

“I was thinkin’ of leavin’ this place anyway,” she said softly. “After today… they’ll treat me like shit.”

Arthur gave her a slow nod of understanding. “Well, come on back to camp with me first. We’ll see if anyone can fix that chain.”

He whistled sharply, and his horse trotted up to them, her coat shining in the late sunlight. “This here’s Boadicea,” he said, patting the horse’s neck fondly. Jolene’s eyes widened, a spark of fascination flickering across her face.

She approached carefully, letting the horse sniff her hand before giving her a gentle pat. Arthur reached out his hand. “Gimme the chain for now. I’ll keep it safe.”

After a beat of hesitation, she handed it over, watching as he carefully pocketed it. Arthur swung himself onto Boadicea’s back, then looked down at her expectantly.

“Go on, get up behind me,” he said.

She tossed the remains of her peppermint stick aside and tried clambering up but managed only to kick dust. Arthur sighed, sliding back in the saddle a little. “You ever ridden before, boy?”

Jolene shook her head, cheeks flushing.

“All right, c’mere,” he muttered, reaching down to grab her under the arms. In one smooth motion, he hoisted her up onto the saddle in front of him. She swung her leg over carefully, making sure not to kick Boadicea’s neck. Arthur nodded approvingly, his arms settling on either side of her as he took hold of the reins.

With a soft nudge, he spurred Boadicea into an easy, steady gallop. The world stretched out before them, open and wild, as the last light of day slipped away behind them. And for the first time in a long time, Jolene felt a sliver of hope glimmering, steady as the warmth of the cowboy’s arms guiding her forward.