#rdr2 christmas | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

photo1030 · 1 year ago

Note

This is my favorite one yet! I’m such a sucker for post-gang life. So, so sweet and lovely. 🥰

welcome back! if you are still taking requests for your christmas countdown, maybe a lil fic about reader and arthur’s first christmas together after leaving the gang? this could be fluffy, spicy, or both. whatever you’re feeling!

* ˚ ✦ Snowblind * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 2.2k

a/n: I loved this prompt! I kinda took it in my own direction so I hope that's ok!!

tw: pregnancy

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: FIVE days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

The kitchen appears as if a bomb of flour has exploded, sending white dust across the countertops, sprinkled onto the floor and spattered on the walls. As much as the mess is stressing you out, you can’t find it within you to care too much. The phonograph situated under the living room window is playing a classical christmas record. You’d picked it up in town, finding that it’s helpful in drowning out the sound of the cold wind outside.

“Oh, baby, let me help.” You cringe at the sight of your daughter spilling dribbles of milk onto the counter instead of into the mixing bowl.

“I do it, Momma.” Aspen says, her little fingers trying to steady the jar. You wipe your hands on your apron, coming up behind her and holding your hands over hers to help.

“You’re doing a very good job. Momma’s just gonna help, is all.” You reassure, smiling as Aspen helps you add the ingredients. Once the milk is all poured in, she takes the spoon and begins to stir the ingredients together. You glance up at the window by the front door, noting that the blue hills in the distance are no longer visible. In fact nothing is visible. All that you can see is white. Snowblind. It’s far below freezing outside, and you worry for anyone left out in the hellstorm. Your heart seizes in your chest, but when your daughter's worried eyes land on you, you smile. Pushing down any worry.

“Daddy?” Aspen asks, her sad, worried, little blue eyes glancing towards the door. You curse yourself for putting your worry onto her. Her little heart is far too innocent for such troubles.

“Daddy will be home from work soon, baby. Why don't we get these cookies done so we can surprise him, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiles again. That perfect little smile, identical to Arthur's.

Aspen helps you roll the dough out and cut it into her requested little shapes. She had wanted to make her daddy a deer, but when that proved to be too difficult for even you, she had settled on snowflakes, horses, crosses, and stars.

Once all the cookies are cut, you send Aspen into the living room with Bear. She’s within eyeshot, and you smile at the sight of her sitting on the floor with the black newfoundland. She’s trying to read him her favorite storybook. Her legs are crossed, with Bear’s head resting in her lap as she tries to recall the story. She can’t read yet, but by God, your little girl is trying.

You place the raw cookies down into the Dutch oven before covering it in glowing red coals. A quick glance at your pocket watch, and your gut sinks. It's a quarter ‘till five already, and your husband was supposed to be home at four. The light from the window is fading, the white light going dull as day turns to dusk.

This is your first Christmas here. Your first Christmas away from the gang, from that life. Aspen has a chance at a normal life now, you all do, and you’ll be damned if some hellish forces try to take that from your family.

All that you can do now is keep yourself distracted. Years ago you would have run out into the storm, leaped onto Sugar and galloped towards town looking for him, but you have more than Arthur to worry about now. As much as it kills you to sit here, you can’t leave her, and you surely can’t take her.

To distract yourself from the sticky black cloud of thoughts, you clean the kitchen, wiping up all of the flour and washing all of the dishes in the dish bin. The phonogram switches to the next song as you finish up, and you check your watch to confirm that the cookies are done.

“Aspen, wanna help?” You call towards the living room. Her brown curls bounce as she turns her head towards you, blue eyes filled with excitement.

“Uh-huh!” Aspen hums, flipping her book to the next page and placing it in front of Bear’s paws, “You read now, puppy.” She whispers, offering him a sweet pat to the head before she’s running back into the kitchen.

You pull the Dutch oven out of the fire, removing the lid with potholders so you can peek inside.

“Remember, don’t touch. This is hot.” You tell her, and Aspen nods her head, taking your instruction with the utmost seriousness.

“Hot.” She repeats, keeping her little hands far away. When you pull the cookies out, she gasps with wonder.

“Wow!” She smiles, eyes going wide with joy. Her little hands clasp together, “Cookies for Daddy! Them are so pretty, huh, Momma?”

“Very pretty.” You struggle to contain your smile, placing the cookies onto glassware to set out for when Arthur returns home. Of course, you set a few out for Santa Claus, too.

As Aspen drools over the cookies (and sneaks one to Bear), you check on the roast. You purposely hold your breath as you lift the lid, knowing that the smell will make you sick. You deem it done, and then return to the cookies. Just as you’re about to take one for yourself, Bear barks.

“Daddy’s home!” Aspen’s eyes light up, and your eyes flicker to the door hopefully. The door opens quickly, and in emerges your husband, wrapped in his ancient, blue winter coat. The hat on his head is covered in snow, and when he pulls it away from his head, you see how pink his cheeks are. As miserable as he must be, he shows nothing but happiness.

“There’s my girls! C’mere.” Arthur says as Aspen erupts into giggles, nearly tripping over her dress as she runs into his arms. He shrugs his coat off just in time to scoop her wiggly little body up. He sits Aspen on his waist, and as she wraps her arms around his neck, he looks to you.

“Oh, Arthur, I was so worried. You must be frozen.” You whisper, eyebrows drawing together in concern.

“I’m just fine now, sweetheart.” He smiles, extending his arm to pull you into his open side. His eyes look to yours, melting away any trace of worry that you’re clinging to from the day. Your eyes slip shut, and you let out a long breath as Arthur holds you and Aspen against him. Aspen wraps her hands around you both, effectively creating a hug between all three of you.

“Love you, darlin’.” Arthur whispers to you, and you look up, placing a small kiss to his lips.

“S’ Christmas Eve.” Arthur smirks, “Santa comin’ tonight?”

You pull away from Arthur, keeping your hands intertwined as you bring him towards the kitchen. Aspen nods profusely, small fingers twirling her curls nervously, “Mhm! I listened to Momma and you, I'm on the good list, Daddy.”

“I know you are, baby. I’m sure he’ll be comin’ tonight.” You reassure, “Well,” You divert your attention to Arthur who must be starving, “We have been very busy today.”

— — —

“She’s asleep.” Arthur whispers, closing Aspen’s bedroom door, being extra careful to not let the door creak, “Bear’s up in bed with her.” He cracks a smile, momentarily glancing to the Christmas tree, and under it, where a few presents signed from Santa sit for Aspen. You look up from your seat on the couch, putting down your embroidery to extend your hand to Arthur.

“Come here.” You request. His much larger, rough hand slips into yours effortlessly, and he sits beside you on the couch. Naturally, you curl up against him, cherishing his warmth, his love.

The fireplace holds a decent sized fire, and flames lick the mantle, emitting a steady warmth onto the two of you. The crackle and pop of embers is soothing, and your eyes slip closed as you fall into a comfortable quiet.

“Thanks for puttin’ her to sleep.” You whisper.

“‘Course. I missed her. I hate bein’ away from you both.” Arthur shakes his head, “I don’t like leavin’ you out here. And trust me– I know you can handle your own, I just… don't like bein’ away.” Arthur admits, and you rest your head against him.

“I know. It’s not forever, though. We’ll be okay.”

Arthur hums, and then raises an eyebrow, as if remembering something.

“I got you somethin’ for Christmas. S’just little.”

Your interest is piqued, and you scoot forward on the couch to peek as he reaches into his leather satchel on the floor.

“Arthur, you didn’t have to–” You start, your voice quickly dying as you see what he’s pulling out.

A little leather-bound journal is extended to you. Your eyebrows furrow, and you hesitate to take it, but Arthur nods.

“Is this…? How did you– Where?” You struggle to organize your thoughts, words failing as you take the book, as you flip through the pages. Your questions become more muddled as you realize that this is Arthur’s journal. The one that he’d documented everything in. The one that he’d lost in the escape from Beaver Hollow. Your jaw falls slack, confusion and nostalgia, loss and love swirling together in your head, “How…?” You whisper, tears filling your eyes as you glance to Arthur, then down to the page where he’d documented the day Aspen was born.

“Called in a favor from an old friend.” Arthur smirks, but turns serious, tapping the book page, “I want you to have this, considerin’ most of these entries are about you.”

Your heart swells, tears dripping down your cheeks as you hold his journal close to your heart.

“I love it, Arthur. I- I love you.” You whimper, emotionally. He smiles, warm and loving, his thumb wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

He holds you against him for a long while, the two of you flipping through old memories, good and bad. You recount the day you got married, the day Aspen was born. The most haunting entry is the last one. The day Arthur had begged you, forced you to take Aspen and Sugar, to flee Beaver Hollow and get as far away as possible. You’ll never forget turning around and seeing the place go up in flames, not knowing if you’d ever see your husband again. When Arthur made it out that day, he had left nearly everything– including his journal. You both had assumed it burned in the fire, and any hope that it didn’t was crushed by the fact that you can’t go back there.

After a while of flipping, the anxiety in your stomach finally quells, and you speak up, “I have a little surprise for you too.” You whisper, closing the journal and setting it on the coffee table. Arthur’s eyebrows draw together, and he sits up straighter on the couch as you turn to face him. Your hands toy with each other, and Arthur takes them in his own to quell the bad habit.

“You didn’t have to–” He begins.

“No, no,” You huff a laugh, “I didn’t spend any money.”

His eyebrows draw further together as you bite your lip nervously.

“Darlin? What is it?” Arthur asks, and you smile sheepishly.

One deep breath, in and out, and you’ll tell him. He won’t be mad surely? Right? He couldn’t be… not your Arthur.

You take a breath, “I’m pregnant again.”

Arthur’s eyes go wide in surprise, and he stutters over his words for a moment. You search his eyes, his face for any sort of reaction, and in a moment his lips crack into a smile.

“We’re– we’re havin’ another baby? You’re sure?” Arthur asks hopefully, hands squeezing yours. You nod.

“I didn’t wanna tell you until I was sure, and… well, I’m sure now, Arthur. I'm pregnant.”

Arthur laughs, eyes locked onto yours, heart soaring with more emotion than he ever thought possible. He never thought he would love anyone again… and then he met you, and then he was sure he'd never love anyone as much as he loves you– and then you made him a father, twice now. Arthur's hands tighten around yours, and you finally break into a teary eyed smile, the anxiety gone now that you've managed to get the words out.

"We're havin’ another baby.” You repeat, smiling up at him with blurred vision.

Before you can say much else, Arthur’s hand gently grips your jaw, and he pulls you against his lips. Your hand still squeezes his as he moves against you, only pulling away to breathe.

“You’re givin’ me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Arthur smiles, the deep kind, the kind that wrinkles the crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

Arthur's hand snakes down to your stomach, and although there is no noticeable bump, it brings him comfort to rest his palm against it. He knows his baby is in there, your baby, and he wants to be close by. It’s a small habit he’d done when you were pregnant with Aspen too.

“We made it, darlin’, we–” Arthur huffs, a smile on his lips, “I've got you here, in our home. Our daughter sleepin’ in her bed. Our dog. You're carryin' my baby again."

Arthur's tone grows serious, and he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the top, “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas, Arthur.”

The snowstorm rages on outside, but it is far from able to outshine the joy and the warmth that is projecting from your four little walls this Christmas Eve.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

#cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #Arthur Morgan Christmas #rdr2 Christmas

144 notes · View notes