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marstons-angel · 1 year ago

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!#outlaws love letters

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coltermorning · 13 days ago

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Of Love and Loss Epilogue (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: After a long time apart, Arthur finally returns to see you.

Author’s Notes: This is a complete divergence from the story of the game, as non-canon as it gets. So if you like canon endings, let the former chapter be the last. Otherwise read on and enjoy the fluff 🥰 Epilogue of this one. More notes at the end.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Epilogue

Word count: 4238

The familiar path packed with snow was unforgivingly cold and dreary, yet Arthur Morgan found himself with a smile on his face.

Eleven months—too many in his book—to get back here. But he was here now, and nothing would keep him from the little homestead just off the main street, covered in snow and the pretense of family.

Arthur rode right up to the main house and hitched his mare, not leaving a second for hesitation or politeness. He approached the front door, half-haggard from all the riding, half-nervous for what he was about to do, and knocked. In moments, the door opened to reveal a familiar face.

“Arthur?”

It was your aunt, shock lining every feature.

“Hi, ma’am.” He tipped his hat, hoping she wouldn’t boot him off the porch for leaving you all those months ago. But to his relief, she smiled wide.

“Oh, Arthur. She’ll be so happy to see you. Come in, come in.”

He returned her smile, those words proving all this travel had been worth it—that you were still here, and more than that, that you still wanted to see him.

Arthur stepped through the door ready to barrel through the house and find you himself.

“Come sit,” your aunt offered, turning and narrowly missing two of her children who ran through the main room after each other. “Careful you two!” When they were out of sight, she turned back to Arthur. “She’s just off at work now. Should be home in an hour or so.”

More waiting then. But Arthur was more than prepared to wait for you. He’d done it just shy of a year now. An hour was nothing.

Taking a steadying breath, Arthur joined your aunt and sat at the table, a million questions burning through him. But he let her go first.

“So, where have you been off to? Quite some time you’ve been away. We wondered if we’d ever see you again.”

He hid his face behind his hat for the look he knew he sported over the thought of his gang. “Colorado for a while. Then down through the territories, into Texas. Wild country down there.”

“Indeed.”

Arthur waited, knowing what question came next. She likely wondered why he’d had to leave so suddenly, what it was he’d needed to get back to. But to his surprise, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “She told me, you know.”

He met her eye then. “Told you what?”

“About your…profession.”

Great.

“No need to worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she assured him. This surprised Arthur, the way first you then your aunt acted like it weren’t nothing at all, him being on the other side of the law.

“It is, is it?”

“It is,” she said calmly, and he didn’t doubt that she was telling the truth. “In fact, a few men came through town looking for a man that reminded me a lot of you.”

Shit. That was exactly what he’d been afraid of, leaving you. “And?”

“And I turned them away. Told them I’d never met such a man.”

Relief rushed into Arthur so fast his head dipped with it. “That’s…kind of you.”

“Least I could do,” she said, shrugging. “That girl loves you more than I’ve seen her love anything. You must have done something to warrant that.”

And just like that, that familiar combination of pride and honor and love shot through Arthur, settling within him like it had never left. All he could do was look to his hands and let a grin turn his mouth.

“I won’t ask about what the two of you went through. I know it’s more than she’s telling me, and you both have every right to keep it behind you.” She hesitated, and Arthur became lost in the thought of what you had been forced to do to save his life. But just as she’d said, he intended to keep that behind him. She went on. “All I ask is that you never get her into anything like that again.”

Arthur could respect a request such as that—he wouldn’t dare to let you go near any kind of trouble like that again. He wouldn’t risk your life over his own sorry decisions. He hadn’t meant to in the first place. In fact, he was done doing that entirely. He made sure of it before ever committing to coming back here.

“I won’t.” Arthur met your aunt’s eye with intention. “You have my word.”

She regarded him a moment. Then, “If what she says about you is true, then I trust your word. Don’t make me regret that.”

“Yes ma’am.” It was all he could say. And just like that, the conversation turned light again, as if he hadn’t just admitted he was an outlaw to this woman. One thing was for sure—he respected the hell out of her for it. Especially for letting your trust in him guide her judgment about him. That was big of her. As was her eventual asking him to stay with them again. This family was just full of surprises, it seemed.

After enough of Arthur’s questions about you were answered, your aunt led him back to your room to wait. All it took was walking into the room for everything else to fall away. He barely noticed your aunt leaving, didn’t even consider his impatience over waiting for you. He saw the tiny pieces of the life you had built for yourself littering the room and felt his chest go tight over it.

The drawings he had made during your trip together were tacked up on the wall, as were a few of your father’s ledger entires. Your wardrobe hung open, and he could see your shaggy bison coat hung up next to other fine pieces of clothing. There was a book on the bed, a dried flower marking your place in it. A collection of papers were stacked together on the desk along with other books, your father’s ledger, and a few folded pieces of fabric with thread and needle atop them. It was all so domestic it almost cut him, to see everything laid out like this. The room was lived in. You had chosen to make a real life here. For a heartbeat, he almost regretted coming back, like he would ruin all of this somehow. But when he stepped over to the bed and picked up the book, noting the title, that thought crumpled. It was a romance novel. About an outlaw no less. Arthur chuckled and began flipping through it, reminding himself of exactly who you were. He hadn’t fallen for some fragile woman who couldn’t withstand someone such as him. He had fallen for a woman who was outright tougher than he was. A woman with a sharp tongue and a quick wit, one who loved deeply and strongly. He had no need to worry about coming here and screwing up your life. If all these things of yours were any indication, he still was a part of your life. He just hoped you felt that way upon seeing him.

Your hands were aching again. The cold and all that seamstress work had gotten to them. Mrs. Eaves had wrought every ounce of effort from you, but you didn’t mind it. It was satisfying besides—a hard day’s work accomplished. So, making the quick walk home through the snow, you weren’t worried about your hands. You weren’t worried about a thing apart from what to steal from the dinner table to take to Harriet later. You were thinking of what the mule preferred when you saw a flash of color in the gray dreariness. Your eye caught on it, and it took you a moment to realize what that color meant. It was a horse hitched in front of your aunt’s house. Not just any horse. In a heartbeat, your skirts were gathered in your aching hands, and you were running.

Once closer, you gave the horse a quick glance to be sure you weren’t seeing things before you burst into the house. There wasn’t a soul in sight. You hesitated for all of a second before you made for your room, uncaring that you were tracking snow in. Uncaring about anything. For that was Boadicea outside, and if that meant anything at all, it meant—

You shoved your door in, and there he stood. Black hat, blue overcoat, handsomeness and all. He turned to you and smiled. “Y/N.” The fondness in his voice made your knees buckle, but you were moving before you could collapse. You were across the room, in his arms, hugging him to you.

You breathed in the scent of him, felt his chest rise and fall with his chuckle of amusement, allowed yourself to believe that this was him, really him, before you stepped back and looked him in the eye. “Arthur,” you replied just as fondly. And he pulled you in and kissed you.

This was everything. You had waited and waited and almost given up hope you would ever see him again. But all the waiting would be worth this ten times over. You kissed the man you loved, and your knees really did buckle. You started to go down, but he caught you.

“Easy there,” he said, still with that amusement.

“You’re here,” you said, clinging to him. Memorizing every feature of his face, the way his blue eyes shone, the way his smile was tugging into that smirk you knew so well.

“I’m here,” he answered. Then he was leading you over to sit down on the bed, taking care like the two of you hadn’t missed each other a single day.

“When- what-” You shook your head, forcing yourself to calm down. Arthur was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “How long have you been here?”

“An hour or two.”

“And I was just sitting there working away,” you chided yourself.

He chuckled again. “You didn’t know any better.”

There he was, already going and talking you out of any guilt. “God, I missed you,” you said, hugging him again. And when you pulled back, “You can’t imagine how much.”

He sighed long and loud, like he was settling in. Your heart sang with the sound.

“Actually, I can.”

Oh. Of course. Because he had missed you too. You were just flustered, overwhelmed by his presence. So happy he was here you were likely sounding like an idiot. “Right,” you said, hoping your foolishness wouldn’t run him straight back out of here. But he only nudged you, looking you over fondly.

“So, working away, huh?”

“Yes. I’m a seamstress now. A laundress too, on the days we don’t have much work. I leave most of the laundering to Mrs. Eaves, though. The woman who hired me.”

“I bet she loves having you around,” he said, his hand wandering to the small stitching you had done to his coat sleeve all those months ago.

You smiled at the memory. “She certainly needed the help. It’s good work besides. Easy. Pays well enough.”

“Good,” Arthur said with a lilt in his voice. A proudness.

“And you?”

He took a moment to respond, taking your hand in his and studying it. “Gang’s good. John came back.”

“Good!”

He huffed a laugh. “Not sure I’d call it good, but it’s better. Abigail sure is happy.”

“Well, that’s something. And how about you? You keep out of mischief well enough?”

He met your eye, his gaze quickly falling to your mouth. “Just about.”

“Figures,” you said on a grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. Just because you could, you kissed him deeply. Because no amount of distance could keep you apart now. And the two of you took the precious time to remember each other, in spirit and form, until there was no more separation to be found.

After swapping more stories, passing the time away with stolen kiss after kiss, Arthur finally pulled away from you and swiped your book off your bed, standing to flip through its pages. It took you a moment to understand why he was smirking as he read it.

“Interesting reading choice.”

You could feel the heat on your face. “What can I say? I missed my outlaw.”

“Uh huh.” He turned and eyed you before going back to reading, his subtle playfulness filling you with contentment. He was really here, teasing you about a book that could hardly emulate the real thing.

“Arthur?”

He shut the book, noting the seriousness in your voice and giving you his full attention.

“How long are you staying?”

His gaze softened some. You didn’t know whether to be worried by that or not. To your disappointment, he didn’t answer and instead took your hands and helped you stand. “How about we go see that mule of yours? You can wear that big shaggy coat, for old times sake.”

Your sadness couldn’t stick with the smile he flashed at you. So, knowing he would answer you eventually, you nodded in agreement and fetched said coat. You only wore it on the days you didn’t go in for work, needing to look somewhat respectable then. But your off days usually consisted of you spending lots of time outside with Harriet, wearing a bison coat that kept the warmth in your bones just as the man who bought it for you had.

“Miss seeing me in this ugly thing?” you teased as you shrugged it on.

“Mmm, I prefer seeing you in nothing,” he said, coming up behind you and hugging you to him. “But this’ll do. Hell, you could make a potato sack look good.”

Snickering, you were reminded of all the nights spent together with him, all the things he had taught you about pleasure. And his warmth against your back was getting to you—the gentle pressure of him you had missed so much. But, hopefully, there would be time for that later. Now, you needed some things answered.

“Come on, sweet talker. I’m not keeping this hairy thing on inside or I’ll sweat to death.”

He scoffed. “So ungrateful.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You led him out of the door, smiling all the while at the way your fingers laced together, at the memories only the two of you shared, at him finally being here.

Harriet was distracted when you went out to see her, as she had finally realized who stood over at the hitching post. She brayed to her friend, making Boadicea whinny back. It seemed time hadn’t dulled their friendship a bit.

Arthur untied his mare and led her over to the pasture side, and the pair squealed and whinnied and carried on in their excitement.

“You can turn her out if you want. The other horses in the pasture are nice enough. That is if you’re…staying long enough to unsaddle her.”

Arthur side-eyed you with amusement. “Subtle.”

“I’m just saying,” you replied with a shrug.

He let out a laugh that was so familiar you could feel your heart start racing. But, to your equal surprise and delight, he began unsaddling her. As he did so and Harriet nudged you for a few pets, he said something that caught you off guard.

“I went back to where we buried your parents.”

It took you a moment to respond, to think through all the feelings that statement brought you. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said, working on the cinch. “Put crosses on their graves.”

Your mind emptied of all thought of the past. Completely.

“Figured you wanted some kind of marker for them. Had a feller in my gang who’s good with a knife carve their names into them too.”

Arthur stood back up to his full height, lifting the saddle off his horse. You just looked at him.

“Then, after I put ‘em in the ground, I thought how much you didn’t want me to know your name in the beginning. Thought maybe you wouldn’t want their names on there either.” After laying his saddle down gently, he propped his forearms over his horse’s back, looking at you. “But in the end, I left ‘em like they were. Figured it’s no good being nameless forever.”

Those were tears stinging your eyes. The kind of tears you hadn’t felt in nearly a year—the wholesome kind. Looking at this selfless, remarkable man of yours, you had to remember how to speak. What to say.

“Arthur, I…thank you. You don’t know how much that means.”

He shrugged. “Least I could do.”

That was the least he could do? The most important thing to you, the one you most regretted not doing in the first place?

Rounding Boadicea, you were in his arms before he could speak another word. “Thank you,” you mumbled into his chest, your tears soaking into his coat.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you impossibly closer like only he could, resting his head on top of yours. “‘Course, darlin’.”

Happiness bloomed within you like a physical thing. Full and bright and impossible to stave.

“Besides,” he went on. “I had a question to ask ‘em.”

That made you pause. You looked up at him in confusion.

He met your gaze and smirked. “You want to know how long I can stay? You really want me to stay?”

He was joking you knew, but you assured him all the same. “Absolutely, I do.”

“Good.”

Without pause, Arthur dropped down to his knee. You sucked in a breath of surprise, stepping back into Boadicea in your shock.

“Y/N,” he started, the nervous lilt in his voice so endearing your fondness for him spilled over.

“I’ve waited and waited to have a life like this. Someone to share it with. And I’m done waiting. I’m done letting everyone else tell me what to do or think. Except you, that is.” He grinned like a fool, like a child. “I don’t have anything holding me back now from being with you. And I won’t let anything get in the way of you and me again. I promise you that. So,” he said, letting out a nervous breath, reaching into his satchel and pulling out something small and golden. Arthur lifted up a ring, and even seeing the tiny gold band with its silver stone between his fingers, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Marry me.”

That fondness spilling over? It was a flood. A love so strong nothing could break it.

Without hesitation, you flung yourself onto Arthur, knocking the poor man on his ass in your fervor to kiss him. “Yes,” you said into his mouth, kissing him over and over. “Yes.” He kissed you back, wrapping an arm around you. You could taste the smile on his mouth. And, pulling back, you laughed and took his face in your hands. “Of course I’ll marry you. I love you.”

You said it matter of factly, but his face softened with an awe of his own as he said, “You mean it?”

You scoffed and shoved at him lovingly. “I can’t say it any clearer, Arthur.”

He laughed this time. And kissed you. And leaned back up so he could put the ring on your finger. You were again almost dumbfounded to see it, watching something this intimate happen between you when hours ago, you hadn’t thought you’d ever see him again. But he was yours now. For good. That thought brought up questions of its own.

“What about…your gang? They won’t miss you?”

Arthur made sure the ring was on just right before meeting your gaze, his gleaming with pride. “Nah, they won’t miss me. John’s there to stay with Abigail and Jack, and the rest of them can take care of themselves.”

“You won’t miss them?” you asked carefully.

He pondered this a moment. Then, “Sure. I rode with them a long time.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear, probably just noticing your lack of a horsehair braid. The thing got disgusting after a while, so you’d cut it out. The horsehair was still tucked away in a drawer in your room though. A silent strength, always with you.

“Ain’t a day goes by I don’t think about them,” he admitted. “But I told myself that if I came here to stay, that life was behind me. And I mean it. It’s done with.”

“Hm. What a shame. I’m only attracted to outlaws.”

Arthur chuckled.

“I’ll make an exception this time,” you teased. “Only so I get to see you as an upstanding citizen. Now there’s a scary picture.”

He nodded, still laughing. “Scary indeed.” He leaned in and kissed you again. When he pulled away, he looked…settled. Happy. Something that was rare for him. “Anyway. I figure I got a new family to protect now.”

“Oh, do you?” you said with surprise, thinking of your aunts and uncles and cousins.

“I do. You and these two,” he said, inclining his head toward your mounts. You looked to them, the horse and the mule so distracted by being reunited that Bo hadn’t even tried to run off.

“And some children of our own one day.”

You whipped back around to look at Arthur, to see if you’d heard him right. His smile was gone, something longing crossing his face.

“You want children?” With what had happened to his son, you couldn’t be sure.

He just nodded, brushing your hair back again like it was a privilege to do so. The thought of Arthur as a father warmed you so you somehow loved him even more for it.

“I wondered. When I told you I wasn’t with child, you seemed disappointed.”

“I was,” he said honestly, meeting your eye with a lazy smile. “Lucky for me, that’s a real easy fix.”

You were blushing like crazy when he kissed you again, intention making him linger. But then he was standing and pulling you to your feet, his gaze catching on your new ring.

“Come on then. We got to go spread the good news.” He was still holding your hand when he took Bo’s reins in the other, starting to lead her to the gate. Harriet followed the whole way as the four of you made the short walk. It was so reminiscent of your trip you could have cried over it. But that was over now. And before you laid a future better than any you could have imagined. A future your parents would have wanted for you.

“When you said you had to ask my parents a question…”

“For your hand,” Arthur said simply. And your chest welled up so tightly with love that you didn’t say a word, just watched as he led Boadicea into the pasture. He took her bridle, and she immediately turned and greeted Harriet. The two of them snorted and squealed again, rearing and circling each other before running away in their excitement. You understood the sentiment.

Marriage—you couldn’t believe your luck. And that thought nearly made you laugh for the way you used to think of marriage. You remembered telling Arthur how much you dreaded reaching your destination because you’d figured your parents had wanted you married off. How very ironic that you were now thrilled to be engaged, in love with the man you would be married to, and here starting your own life, just as they had wanted. Funny how parents always seemed to know best. If only you had listened a little sooner and they were here with you now. How very proud they would be.

Arthur retrieved his saddle, putting it and the rest of his tack away in your family’s small barn. The act felt final somehow, like he wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon. And as you walked hand in hand with him aimed toward your home, you felt complete for the first time since leaving Montana. The cost of your parents’ lives had been one hell of a life lesson, one you were still treating with tenderness lest you fall into a dark place again. But a home and a life was only as good as the people you filled it with, and now you wanted for nothing. Now that Arthur had returned for good, you were whole in a way no one person really deserved. But you weren’t about to start complaining.

“Did you ask my aunts or uncles?”

“Huh?”

You looked to Arthur with a wicked grin, only because you already knew the answer. “For my hand? Did you ask them?”

“No,” he said flatly, as much the big, gruff man he was when you’d first met him. “I’m hoping they’ll forgive me for it. But you said you wanted an outlaw, didn’t you?”

“Your final act of rebellion?” you teased.

He stopped and pulled you to him, his gaze landing on your mouth. “Something like that.” Then he kissed you lazily, in a way that would make any onlooker blush, and you reveled in the act that you had missed so dearly.

“Momma! They’re kissing!”

The shrill voice broke you and Arthur apart, and you laughed when you saw your youngest cousin scrambling back into the house.

“Tattletale,” Arthur muttered, already pulling you back in for another kiss.

Not caring who in the world was looking, you sighed in contentment and let him.

_________

End Notes: I enjoyed every minute of writing this story. If you have stuck with me this long, I can’t thank you enough for your support. All the motivation I received when writing it made me able to finish it. And now, I wholeheartedly believe I can write anything I set my mind to. That’s all thanks to you! So thank you from the bottom of my heart, and there is much more to come! ❤️

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445 @meet-me-backstage @marygillisapologist @formula1mount @oziozzioslo @lunawolfclaw @intexasomewhere @appalachiancowboy99

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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mediocrecowboyhat · 4 months ago

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Set in sand - Chapter 1

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Next chapter

Word count: 3543

Disclaimer: This is based on the side quest "Geology for Beginners" so the reader is from the future and aware of some things that happen, but not everything. The reader will also have she/her pronouns and this fanfiction follows the story of RDR2. Also English is not my first language so pls forgive me for any grammatical mistakes!

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

The harsh cold cuts through your many thick layers of clothing and your limbs gradually grow number by the minute. Pain shoots through your fingers everytime you move them just to make sure they're still working. The last thing you want is to loose any body parts to hypothermia this early on in your journey.

One foot at the time. Come on.

As you stumble through the knee-high snow and fight your way through the merciless storm, you silently curse yourself out. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten yourself involved in this.

"Arthur Morgan? That name rings a bell, actually.", Francis mumbles under his breath as his eyes trail over the words of the journal you had handed to him earlier.

The book is in poor condition with most of the pages missing and the ones that are still attached, are barely readable. Only a few passages are intact, but it's enough to let you roughly know what happened to the author.

"I thought you might have maybe heard of him during your travels.", you answer with a hopeful tone. Your eyes stare expectantly at the red head as you wait for him to finish reading.

The author wrote the journal around the end of the 1800s which is the same time Francis likes to visit every now and then.

"I think I remember now!", he exclaims with raised eyebrows and you jump up from the chair you're sitting on.

"You do? Can you...help me out then?"

You have no idea why the story of Arthur Morgan had moved you so much. His life and the way he put it into words had shaken you to your core.

A shuddering sigh escapes your lips and even through the scarf that covers half of your face, you're able to see the cloud of air.

"You want to safe him? Why?", Francis asks and his tone is laced with utter disbelief. Yes, he met the man during one of his travels and even though Arthur didn't know him at all, he still had helped find all the rock carvings.

"The way things went and the way they ended for him...it doesn't feel right.", you explain with furrowed brows.

"It's dangerous. Yes, the country started to enforce the law more seriously during that time, but there were still so many gangs, robberies and shootings. I can't even begin to count all the things that could go wrong on your journey."

Francis' gaze is serious and stern. He's making his disapproval of your idea more than clear, but you're not willing to give up on your plan. Not yet.

"Nothing will go wrong if you help me prepare.", you answer and take both of his hands in yours to give them a reassuring squeeze.

His expression is unmoving, but his eyes betray the crumbling resistance within him. He's only a couple more arguments away of giving in.

The memory makes you chuckle. It's a low and bitter sound. Indeed, he had helped you get prepared for your adventure. Your leather bag is stuffed with canned food, some clothes and other equipment that might come in handy.

All the shirts, skirts and pants fit the style of the 1890s to make it easier for you to blend in. Francis had even been so kind to give you a quick history lesson that covered all the basics.

The cattleman revolver feels unfamiliar and heavy in your hands as you study the weapon more closely.

"Do you know how to shoot?", Francis asks and crosses his arms infront of his chest as he leans against the edge of the table.

The closest you have ever come to working a gun was reading about it in Arthur's journal, but admitting that might make Francis change his mind about the whole thing.

"Of course.", you lie with full confidence and slide the revolver back into the holster.

In the beginning you were a bit disturbed by the sight of the weapon attached to your belt. Feeling the weight of it now and the way it sometimes brushes over your thigh...it brings you some comfort. Comfort, knowing that you have the means to protect and defend yourself.

If only you have been aware over how soon you'd have to use that thing.

"There is an abandoned settlement called Colter nearby.", Francis explains and points at a spot on the map that is spread out over the table. "They will be hiding there after that whole ordeal in Blackwater."

This would be your chance to join the gang and get close to everyone. The mere thought of actually meeting these people fills you with both excitement and anxiety. You don't know any of them and it makes you wonder how they'll react to you.

"The winter was particularly bad that year so make sure to move quick and don't get lost.", he says, ripping you out of your thoughts.

"Don't worry."

Yes. Don't worry, I said. It will be fine, I said.

Nothing could have prepared you for the pack of wolves that had shown up right after you traveled back in time. Not a single bullet had hit its mark, but the ear piercing noise from the shots had driven them away.

Everytime you recall that encounter in your mind, the beat of your heart picks up frantically and you hear your blood rushing in your ears. The experience had scarred you for sure.

Finally, the snowstorm seems to calm down and your vision clears up again. As you blink the remaining snowflakes away, you spot smoke in the distance. Could that be the settlement?

Without a second thought you pick up your pace and quickly make your way towards the dark pillar of smoke. It's further away than you had anticipated, but after a while you arrive at the place just to be met with...well, no one.

The fire has died down and there is not a single soul to be seen in the area. You notice that the wood is still slightly warm though so whoever had camped here left only recently.

Your eyes wander around, trying to find a sign, anything that could indicate where that person might have gone to. There is only one set of footprints in the snow, accompanied with prints that look like hooves.

It could be someone from the gang who is out hunting at the moment. It's also possible that they went back to the others so maybe these tracks could lead you right to their hideout.

With a new found hope you quickly follow the tracks. Even if it isn't anyone from the gang, that person you're searching for could still give you shelter or food. Any type of help is welcome, really. You're in no position to be picky at the moment.

The tracks lead up a mountain and you see something dark laying on the ground. A pit forms in your stomach as you approach it and recognize what it is.

The sight infront of you is revolting and you fight back a gag. A horse is laying spread out in the snow with its stomach shredded to pieces and the insides hanging out. A foul stench penetrates your nose and you abruptly turn away.

Whatever happened here, it hadn't ended well. Weirdly enough, the horse is the only dead body here though. There is no sign of the owner and you stumble upon more footprints.

It must be the same person from the makeshift camp, by the looks of it. At least the size and shape of the boots are similar. You keep following them and swallow a lump in your throat when your eyes fall on blood. It seems like the person got hurt as well by whatever attacked the horse.

Could it have been wolves? Perhaps even the same ones that wanted to make a meal out of you? You banish the thought before it could make you panic. Now is not the time to contemplate about your near-death encounter.

Someone obviously needs help and that is the whole reason why you're here in the first place. Just because the person in need of help isn't the one who you're actually here for, doesn't mean you should abandon them.

The footprints lead around the mountain and with lots of huffing and panting, you climb over rocks and duck under them. It's exhausting your body more than anything you had ever done before and your muscles grow heavy.

"Hello?", you yell out into the vast nothingness and calm your breathing to be able to focus on listening for a response. Nothing.

You give it another try, but again nothing happens. Frustration boils up inside your chest and you mutter a few curses to yourself.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Now you're not only extremely tired and worn out from this unnecessary hike, you're also way off the trail that leads towards Colter and who knows if you will even be able to find your way back.

Sure, you could easily follow your own footprints, but by the way your luck has been the past few days, another snowstorm will most likely ruin that plan. Unless the thing that killed the horse earlier comes back to put you out of your misery as well.

Perhaps Francis was right. Perhaps you were being stupid and naive to think that you could possibly travel back in time to-

"Help!"

There it is. A voice. A person! You bite back a relieved sob and take a deep breath to answer the call.

"I'm over here!", the other person answers and you jog towards the source of the voice.

As you peek over the edge of a wall, you're being met with a pair of glassy, grey eyes. A man with long black hair and messy clothes, is sitting in the snow and looks up to you.

"I didn't think I'd meet anyone out here.", he jokes with a raspy voice and you climb down the wall to kneel next to him.

His face is covered in blood and there are deep wounds on his right cheek. It looks like claw marks.

"What happened?", you ask breathlessly as you hurry to open your bag.

"Wolves. A whole pack of 'em." His answer comes out more as a grunt than anything and it's obvious that talking alone brings him too much pain.

You fish out an alcohol bottle and pour some of the content onto your handkerchief. Gently, you dab the cloth on his wounds to disinfect them and he let's out a harsh hiss.

"I'm sorry.", you mumble apologetically, but he simply waves it off. He knows you're only trying to help.

None of you are saying anything while you tend to his wounds and your mind is racing with thoughts and questions. What will you do now? The man doesn't look like he can stand up and you don't have the means to carry him down this mountain.

But even just considering the option of leaving him here to the elements makes you feel a tang of guilt in your chest. Leaving him alone means leaving him to die and you don't know if you can live with that.

"Do you think you can get up? I can't carry you, but if you lean on me we could make it down this mountain.", you suggest and the man opens his mouth to answer you.

Before he can even bring out a word, a gunshot cuts through the air and you let out a startled noise. Another person? This is starting to become quite a party.

Yelling can be heard from a distance. A man. No, it's two.

"Marston!", one of them screams from the top of his lungs and the bleeding stranger infront of you responds almost immediately.

It doesn't take long for the others to find you and you stand up from your spot. The two men are standing on the edge of the wall and one of them jumps down. The next moment you find yourself at the end of a gun.

You lift your hands and take a careful step back while your eyes are fixed on the weapon pointed right at your face.

"Who are you?", asks the man. He's wearing a thick blue coat and a worn cowboy hat with a few bullet holes in it.

"Put the gun down. She found me here and helped.", answered the injured guy and for what feels like eternity the man finally lowers the gun.

You allow yourself to let out a relieved breath as he turns away to face the one still sitting on the ground.

"You look even uglier than before, Marston.", he says to the injured stranger and something clicks inside your brain.

Marston? John Marston?

While your mind pieces all the clues together, the man who is still on the wall reaches out his hand towards you. A friendly smile graces his lips and you return it before taking his hand and letting him help you climb back up.

"You guys are lucky that we found you.", he says and you nod. He's right. Even with your plan to have John lean on you while you walk back, there is no guarantee that it would have actually worked.

You're pretty sure that you would have probably slipped and fallen to your certain death. A few moments later John and the other guy are on top as well.

"Arthur, carry him on your shoulder while we go back to our horses.", the man who helped you up the wall said and your eyes fall on one with the blue coat.

Is this Arthur Morgan?

You lock eyes with him after he throws John over his shoulder and he gives you a confused look.

"What are you starin' at?", he grunts.

Embarrassed, you cough into your fist and let out a flustered chuckle.

"I'm so sorry, sir. It's just that you remind me of someone, is all.", you hastily explain and turn away to prevent any more awkwardness.

What a great first impression you're leaving. As you all make your way back to the horses, the three men introduce themselves to you and you give them your name as well.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?", Javier asks and throws you a curious look over his shoulder.

"I had to leave my home. We...we got robbed and lost the house.", you answer. It's a lie that you and Francis have come up with.

If anyone asks you'd tell them that a gang robbed your home and burned down the house. No one can check your background if you tell them there is nothing left to check. At least that's what you're hoping for.

"You said 'we'. Is anyone else out here?", Arthur asks and shoots you a quick look.

"No. I'm alone now.", you answer which is not really a lie. You are alone indeed.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

Before you're able to thank him, Javier points at something in the distance.

"Guys, I think we got company."

A small group of wolves appear on the hill a few meters away from you guys and your heart sinks. The gunshot and all the yelling must have caught their attention or maybe it's the smell of John's blood.

Arthur hands him over to Javier and pulls out a shotgun as he walks towards the wild animals.

"I'll distract 'em. You guys go to the horses.", he yells over his shoulder and you and Javier start running.

A few shots are being fired behind you, but you don't dare to look back. Your heart is beating a thousand miles an hour and adrenaline rushes through your veins. It's the only reason why you're able to move this fast.

Javier mounts his horse together with John and you climb onto the back of the one you assume must be Arthur's. Just as you turn your head to see where the said man is, he's already by your side and jumps into the saddle.

Without another word, the two horses start sprinting. The sudden acceleration startles you and instinctively your arms shoot forward to wrap around Arthur's torso. Then you notice something in the corner of your eye.

"We got more coming from the right!", you let the others know and grab the cattleman from your holster.

Thankfully, Arthur proves himself to be more than competent with his own gun and takes out the entire pack in a matter of seconds without you having to help out. At least that's what it looked like at first.

Another wolf jumps out from between trees right at the both of you and you extend your arm to fire a shot. It hits. For the first time you have actually hit something.

The rest of the ride goes by quietly with no deadly surprises. So far it's all going to plan (besides the fact that you almost got your face bitten off that is) and with a little luck and persuasion on your part they might even let you stay with them.

Once you reach the settlement, you slide off the back of Arthur's Tennessee Walker and take a step to the side when a large group of people start pouring out from the run down houses.

But the person who catches your attention the most is a man wearing a black coat and a red scarf. It's not his outfit that draws your gaze towards his direction, but more the energy he gives off. There is something about him that makes you feel like you have to be on your toes.

Maybe it's the authority that radiates off of him like the heat of a house on fire or maybe it's something else. Obviously, he's the leader of this group with the way he's barking orders. They don't seem to fear him though.

Then his eyes fall on you and he takes your whole appearance in. You recall a name from the journal as he approaches you with an extended hand and you shake it firmly.

"Dutch Van Der Linde. Arthur told me that you helped them with John."

You only manage a nod.

"Thank you, miss. I appreciate that you went out of your way to help one of my men. Come on, let's head inside so we can talk.", he adds and leads you towards one of the cabins

There is a fire burning inside, but with all the holes in the roof and walls it does barely anything to keep the cold away. Dutch motions towards one of the chairs next to the fireplace and takes a seat infront of you.

Arthur's blue coat appears in the corner of your eye as he closes the creaking door and leans against it with his arms closed. Yes, Dutch said it would be a casual talk, but now it feels more like an interrogation.

Quietly you fold your gloved hands on your lap and wait for Dutch to say the first word. You plan on telling him only the most necessary stuff and would rather avoid getting tangled up in your web of lies.

"So, Arthur tells me you lost your home?"

You avoid his piercing gaze and look down at your lap.

"I did, sir."

On the side of your vision, you see him nod to himself.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Now, miss..."

Your head snaps up to look at him as he bends forward to get a better look at your face.

"This is a harsh winter and I'd feel bad sending you out in this cold all by yourself, so if you want, you can stay with us."

His offer makes you nod hastily and you try to mask your excitement. There is no need to make them suspicious with your eagerness. No person with a clear mind would be this happy to stay with a bunch of outlaws and you have to play the part.

"We may not be good people, but we care for one another. As long as you pull your weight, we will happily welcome you."

With these words you place your bag on the floor and open it up to reveal the canned food you have been traveling with.

"I got some food on me. Agreed, it's not a lot, but it's all I have."

A pleased look spreads over Dutch's face and he nod.

"It's greatly appreciated. Go find Mr. Pearson and give these to him.", he says and you throw your bag back over your shoulder after getting back on your feet.

Once you close the door behind you, you overhear Arthur say something.

"Are you sure about this, Dutch? It's another mouth to feed."

You hold your breath so you have an easier time listening in on them. Of course, he's right to be concerned about you becoming a member. By the sound and look of it, they're struggling to keep everyone fed.

"We have been through worse.", Dutch answers and a wave of relief washes over you. It's good to know that you won't get kicked out on the first day.

So where is this Mr. Pearson?

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 arthur morgan

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vanderlesbian · 2 years ago

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rdr2 men as girl dads

arthur, charles, john, dutch, + hosea

technically gn reader, but some things may be interpreted as being more fem? you are the other parent of the child

arthur morgan

+ he would definitely go to the women in the gang (and you of course, but he'll be more shy about it) to ask them questions. "is this what you ladies like?" before he gives his daughter a gift.

+ he'll document basically her entire life in his journal; write entries about her biggest moments and their times together, and he'll draw her all the time. there will be pages that are just covered in drawings of you and your daughter.

+ the other gang members would tease arthur for being "so soft" around his daughter and he probably gets real flustered about it, but you think it's adorable how gentle he is with her.

+ she will make flower crowns or put flowers in arthur's hair and a lot of the time he'll forget about it, so he'll walk around camp or even go out riding with a braid and flowers in his hair.

+ of course, your daughter would have some kind of knowledge as to what the gang does, but arthur will still try to hide violence from her. he'll make up silly excuses as to how he gets cuts or bruises, and he tends to hide his guns when around her. hell, he won't even really smoke when in her presence.

+ arthur is very accepting, and that especially applies to your daughter. if she wants to travel the world, he'd support it. if she said she wanted to be a dinosaur, he'd try his best to help her achieve that. the only thing he would say no to is being a gunslinger.

+ arthur's daughter would be a girl constantly surrounded by love. i can imagine her being artistic and creative like her dad, with the ability to get along well with anyone she meets. she would also be very expressive and bold, feeling that she can be whatever she wants.

charles smith

+ crafts dolls and other toys for her!!

+ he'll take your daughter out on nature rides or walks and will teach her all about animals and their importance. especially when she's a baby; he just finds it comforting to have a little friend he can talk to, even if she doesn't respond.

+ charles would be SO protective of his daughter. he would definitely teach her important rules of survival and how to handle weapons because he believes she can take care of herself, but he also can't help but step in immediately when the smallest altercations happen.

+ he also knows how cruel the world can be, and he doesn't want his daughter experiencing any of that. he likes to keep everything pg around her; if micah or someone is being inappropriate around her, charles will get upset quickly.

+ you can learn a lot from children, and charles is well aware of that. he's such an attentive listener when your daughter speaks to him, and will act like everything she says is revolutionary. he'll bring up a fact you've never heard of in a conversation with you, and when you ask him where he learned that from, he'll nudge his head towards your daughter.

+ i think charles' daughter would be a mini version of him, minus his use of violence lol. she would be quiet and only open up to those shes comfortable with, and would be very passionate about those she loves and the things she cares about.

john marston

+ you will always be able to tell when john dressed her because what in the hell is she wearing?

+ the goofiest dad but he's trying his best he swears!!

+ he's not the most vocally affectionate dad out there, but he'll randomly show up with gifts because he'll remember his daughter mentioning that she liked a specific item.

+ he'll also show affection by teaching her things. he doesn't really know what young girls would find interesting, so he just kind of assumes she would enjoy horseback riding or something of the sort. will definitely feel awkward if she expresses that she's bored.

+ john is trying, but he doubts himself and will always come to you for reassurance. he feels a lot better after speaking with you about things. "i'm just...bad at this stuff. you think she even likes me?" "john, she loves you more than anything, and i do too."

+ he's so bad at playing pretend, but he tries his hardest and you think it's so funny. if arthur catches him playing dolls with your daughter, he'll definitely tease him about it later. "dad, use your girl voice!"

+ a daughter raised by john marston would probably be rather shy, but also very kind, patient, and understanding. she might also take on some of her dad's sarcasm.

dutch van der linde

+ he would spoil his baby girl ROTTEN. he just can't seem to ever say no to her and will end up going into town himself to get a new stuffed animal for the kid the moment she asks for one.

+ dutch would definitely boast about how smart his daughter is. he would teach her to read and write as soon as possible and would feel so proud when she tells him about the things she read or wrote about. "she gets it from me, of course."

+ he would quite literally kill for his daughter. he's definitely the scary dad, but like in a way that she will casually bring up "oh yeah my dad has killed people" on first dates.

+ dutch's daughter would definitely be one to have a rebellious phase. i think he would tend to insist that she stays at camp because it's safest, but he would raise a girl that's curious about what the country is like outside of her tent. there would be many instances where dutch will send someone out—or himself to go find her after she steals a horse and runs off somewhere.

+ i feel like he would want to name his daughter something like...antique, or based off of some character from literature. things like ophelia, elizabeth, athena, victoria...

+ i actually think that dutch would raise a rather fiesty daughter. educated and bold, i think a daughter raised by the leader of the van der linde gang would grow to be a leader herself.

hosea matthews

+ i think hosea was born to be a girl dad.

+ he would so have a nickname for her that would stick with her for the rest of her life. something cute like dew drop or honey bee; and sometimes even the other gang members would call her by that nickname.

+ with the way hosea sits and listens to the women in the camp, he would do the same with your daughter. although he can be a stern parent when needed, he'll always listen to her before doing anything else.

+ he'd love to teasingly embarrass her in front of the others. "remember when you were wearing diapers until you were four years old?" "dad!"

+ HE KNOWS HOW TO DRESS A BABY!! and he would be so proud of himself. he'd probably be more excited over baby clothes than you.

+ oh he would treat her like a princess. i imagine him reading her fairytales as a child and will play along with her when she pretends to be a princess. if he could, he would build her a castle.

+ i believe that hosea would raise a humorous, kind hearted girl, who can also be rather mischievous. i can imagine his daughter being very outgoing and friendly, but very serious when needed.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr1 #arthur morgan #charles smith #dutch van der linde #john marston #hosea matthews #x reader #headcanons #fluff #gn reader

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orphicrose · 1 year ago

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Can you pls write Hosea (rdr2) x teen reader where the reader was caught stealing from the vamp and Hosea tracks them down and sees that maybe the reader was trying to save a injured horse or any other animal. I was thinking that the reader has been living on the streets/wild for a while and looks the part, so he knows how to survive and doesnt trust anyone really and when Hosea sees that the reader stole to help he was kinda moved and approached the reader and asked them to join the group because their thieving/stealing skills could be useful, and maybe a few reactions when Hosea brings back the teen. I imagine Hosea to be just really kind to children and teens

Stray (Hosea x Child!Reader)

Absolutely! Love this idea, thank you for the request

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

The camp was no stranger to crime, being on the dealing end of it the majority of the time. But they weren't to used to being the receiver, and by a child of all things. Over the course of a week, little things had gone missing through the night. Being camped up in horseshoe overlook meant they were subjected to rats, which was plausable. But medicine, Hosea didn't think rats were that advanced. It wasn't just a little, it was a whole crate worth of canned food and horse tonic that had vanished.

"What you planning, Hosea?" Charles appeared in front of the old man, who was sat on a stump cleaning the barrel of his gun.

"I'm going to catch the theft in action tonight" He stood up, throwing the gun over his shoulder. "I'm not convinced we have rats."

"No?"

"No. Rats don't drink horse tonic."

Charles hummed in response, amused by his answer. "Well, have fun old man" he patted his shoulder before he left to his tent. Leaving Hosea to himself in the darkening night.

The night was cool, calm and very uneventful. Everyone was asleep peacefully in their tents, except Hosea. Waiting. Back leant against a tree as he was planted on the floor, gun in hands at the ready. His eyes began shutting on him as he heard small footsteps creeping up on him. Keeping his composure, he sat still, giving the impression of him being asleep. In the corner of his eyes, a small person snuck up behind some bushes towards Strauss carriage. A small bottle was snatched from the side of the structure and then figure disappeared back into the night.

It was but a kid. Hosea had a pain in his gut, at the thought of shooting it. The child's scruffy appearance resembled that of a stray dog, making him feel sorry. But his effortless skills in thieving had potential, showing similar traits of Arthur when they took him in. Perhaps they could help each other.

Usually, Hosea would have waited till morning. To tell someone of his plan. But he felt this was too urgent to wait hours for morning to roll around. His gun was equipped to his back, and he took it upon himself to follow the figure on foot. Finding the little footprints in the dirt to catch up with him.

There they were. The child was almost sprinting across the train track. Hosea had to pick up his pace a little to ensure he didn't lose site of them, coughing a little as he turned to a light jog. Keeping far away enough to prevent the child from spotting him.

They must have travelled at least half a mile through the heartlands, stars illuminating the paths around them. The figure stopped abruptly in the field, hunching over into the tall grassy land. Hosea knelt down as he closed in, keeping his breath steady.

The closer he got, the closer he could make out a small dog. Seemingly passed away as it was sprawled across the grass.

"Horse tonic wont be any good for that, kid"

The child spun to see the old man, a look of fear crossing his face as the gun on his back gleamed in the light. Eyes switching between the metal and the old man.

"I.Im sorry. I just-" they stuttered, falling to the ground.

Hosea put a hand out, other hand dropping the gun from his shoulder to the floor next to him. "I wont hurt ya" He half laughed, now kneeling to the floor to show his good intentions. A hand was placed on the dogs neck, in attempts to find a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. "What happened?"

The child pointed to a bite mark on the dogs paw, two holes indicating a snake. Hosea nodded, scooping up the dog in his arms.

"you know when it happened?"

"A few days ago. I thought the tonic would help" The child fiddled with his hands, avoiding eye contact.

Hosea took a second to admire the wound, nodding his head. "He'll be fine. He would have died a while ago if the venom was strong enough" he took a second to cough into his elbow, clearing his throat. "Must have acted as an aphrodisiac"

The child looked up at him confused

"What's your name, kid?"

"Y/n"

"okay y/n, come with me. Lets get some proper food in you" He motioned his hand in the direction of his camp, flinging the small animal over his shoulder.

Clearly exhausted, y/ns movements slowed down drastically, struggling to remain awake on the journey back to camp. Not even sure if they were walking into their doom.

"What you doing out here alone?" Hosea looked down.

"My ma and pa were sick" a sigh escaped their lips, Hosea nodding sympathetically to the answer.

"What are ya? 11? 12?"

"I'm 12 soon"

"Jesus" Hosea mumbled under his breath, readjusting the animal on his shoulder to a more comfortable one. "Well... we got room" he began. "There's another kid back at camp, who will appreciate the company I'm sure"

Y/ns face seemed to lighten up a little more at the mention of another kid. That most likely meant he was safe from whatever they thought was going to happen to them.

Camp rolled into view, the campfire gleaming through the shadows of the forest.

"Where did you get off to?" Dutch marched towards him, having just woken up. The sun began to unveil itself from over the horizon, offering a warm glow to the dim landscape. "Off hunting this early?" He chuckled, motioning to the stray dog.

"Not quite" Hosea looked down to y/n, Dutch following his line of vision. A small 'oh' leaving his mouth. "I solved our little rat issue"

"He reminds me a little of john" Dutch put a finger to his lips, thinking. "Are you suggesting we take him in?"

Hosea shrugged "He wont be no trouble. He even came with a hunting dog"

Dutch chortled, walking back towards the camp. "Suppose we should introduce everyone, shouldn't we?" He turned to the child. "And your name is?"

"Y/n... sir"

"y/n!" He repeated. "Hosea, take that dog to heir Straus. I'm sure he will take care of it"

Y/n was offered food from Pearson shortly, who didn't question the new member. Having seen many of the camp come and go by this point. The women made quite a fuss of him, cooing about how sweet he is. Especially Abigail.

"Abigail!" Dutch called her over, who soon came rushing over with jack following closely behind her. "Yes Dutch" She looked down towards y/n. Confusion on her face.

"This is y/n, Hoseas most recent adoption" He motioned down to the child "I don't suppose you could make him feel more welcomed here. Perhaps introduce them to Jack?"

Jack hid behind his mothers leg, appearing shy. "Hi" he whispered, letting his hand wave a little.

Abigail nodded softly to the suited man, looking down to y/n. "I'm Abigail, this is my son jack" her hands rested on his shoulders as she forcefully brought him forward.

"Come with me, darlin, I'll show you where you can get some shut eye" She motioned for him to follow, noticing the drowsiness on his face.

A small bedsheet was laid out in hers and Jacks shared tent for y/n. Leaving him to catch up on some well earned sleep.

"But i wanna play" Jack moaned, as the tent was zipped up. Leaving y/n to some peace.

"You can play later, Jack. The poor kid needs some sleep"

Weeks had passed with the new recruit. Settling in rather quickly. Abigail had taken it upon herself to practically adopt them, her maternal instincts getting the better of her. Scolding them when she deemed fit and offering motherly love that she saw was deserving. Hosea, of course, became an authoritative figure. Spending quite a lot of time with y/n, reminding him of young Arthur and John. Making him feel slightly younger.

Everyone else was accepting, apart from Micah. Who gave y/n grief occasionally, but was dealt with by who ever was closest. Which was usually Arthur or Charles.

And Jack... Jack adored y/n. He always wanted a sibling, or a friend. Plus, he got a dog. Which survived and returned to a playful little thing with just some food, rest and water. Y/n would go on to remain in Abigails and Johns custody later in life, and become a vital aspect of the gangs family.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #fanfiction #hosea x reader #platonic #arthur x reader #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #arthur morgan #request #child reader #john marston #charles smith

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unmaskthewriter · 1 year ago

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Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You {Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader}

Summary: Arthur realizes he’s in love with you.

A/N: As suggested/requested by @photo1030 . I apologize for the delay as I’m packing for travel and also I just got into Read Dead online for the first time all while completing RDR1 (first time) and RDR2 (second time). I know you suggested a different song/title but I couldn’t stop thinking about Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You by Frankie Valli. also did just watch Jersey Boys this weekend so that could be why. Anyways, despite it all, I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff as requested <3 except for Karen threatening to commit violence on Sean 👀

Word Count: 650+

It was nearly evening as Arthur returned from the bank robbery in Valentine. As the sun sank lower in the sky, it created a beautiful array of colors on the water. He approached the savings box behind Dutch’s tent, placing half his take into the box. Micah sat with Bill and Javier at a table, talking them into yet another round of Five Finger Fillet.

“You’ve taken nearly all my money!” Javier whined.

Mary Beth and Tilly were sitting in their tent, working on laundry and clothes that needed mending. Karen was sitting alongside Sean around the campfire, a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Ah, c’mon lass, just one kiss!” Sean leaned closer to Karen, pointing to his cheek as she looked on, disinterested.

“Only thing you’ll be getting is this bottle over your head if you don’t quit your beggin.” Karen warned, taking a swig of the whiskey. Sean only laughed.

“Where would I be without ya, Miss Karen?” Sean questioned, to which she rolled her eyes.

“Dead, hopefully.” She mumbled, looking away from the Irishman.

“Oh, don’t play at that, lass. Ya know ya love me.” Sean teases the young woman.

Arthur ventured throughout camp in search of you. On a typical day, you were often around the campfire either listening to Javier’s music, or talking with the girls at their tent. He wandered out to the lake, leaning against a tree at the edge of the wood line. He lights himself a cigarette, taking a long drag as he watches on.

You were standing in the water, barefoot, with your pants rolled up to your knees. Jack sat nearby, making a necklace with small, coral flowers. Too focused on the line in the water to realize Arthur’s presence, Jack giggled as he looked at Arthur. The gunslinger only held a finger to his lips, smiling softly as the cigarette dangled there.

“I know I’m not quite the fisherman as I talked myself up to be. It’s okay, you can laugh.” You tease unknowingly. Arthur’s heart skipped at the sight, something he didn’t think possible. Prior to this evening, Arthur always believed he’d belong to Mary, even if she had moved on and married someone else her father approved more of.

Though now, seeing you there in the water while the setting sun reflected off of you and gave you this wonderful glow… all thoughts and dreams of Mary vanished in that very moment. All he could feel in this moment was a strange swelling of his heart when he looked at you. Now, Arthur never considered himself romantic but in this moment, doing something as simple as fishing and barely doing that gave him this light, fluttery feeling in his heart, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in quite some time. As you stepped out from the water, you turned to see Arthur standing there.

“Oh!” You held a hand over your chest, startled. You relax as you put the fishing rod away, “Didn’t see you there. How’ve you been?” You ask as Jack stands and gathers the flower necklace he had made.

“Good… was wondering what you were up to. See you’re teaching him all you know about fishing.” Arthur teases as he steps forward, putting the cigarette out beneath his boot. A blush creeps across your face as you look away, trying desperately to avoid his gaze.

“Don’t think I know too much on the matter, Mr. Morgan.” You admit shyly. Arthur’s lips part to speak, only to be interrupted by the child.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry!” He insists, now standing between the two of you, “Can you swing me?” He questioned excitedly. You look to Arthur who nods to you in return.

“Anything for you.” You ruffle the boy’s hair. Each taking hold of the child’s small hands, you and Arthur swing Jack gently between the both of you as you return to camp, like one happy family.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption #arthur morgan x reader #fluff #no angst #this time #rdr2 fanfic #jack marston #tilly jackson #micah bell #mary beth gaskill #javier escuella #bill williamson

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keppa-nero · 3 months ago

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RDR2 x Male! OC/Reader

Robbing Stagecoaches And Killing

Lawmen

🎅Have faith it gets better!!🎅

CHAPTER 1 - Colter

TW: Bad Language \ Death \ Violence \ Mentions of mental illnesses \ Blood (?) \ Animal deaths (not cruelty) \ Posible slurs

The way from our past hiding spot to what we hoped was going to be a successful ride, had ended up being longer than we expected.

Colter was the name of land we entered, an extremely cold weather zone with heavy snow and thick layers of ice even in spring.

–Abigail says she's dying, Dutch. – I heard Reverend say as he walked near our wagon, making me wake up from my tired daze. I sat up with a groan and disconnected from their conversation, taking in the trail up ahead us this time. We got caught into a heavy blizzard it seemed, my eyes getting dry enough to itch in the two seconds I have been conscious, but I could still see the rest of our gang's coaches marching behind ours.

Sitting correctly, I tried to accommodate myself between the gang's properties pressing on my back, since I myself had chosen to travel in the transport wagon, out of all. But seeing how many horses and people were traveling all together, honestly made anyone feel we'd get caught any second now by the law, even if it was difficult with this god damned weather.

–Keita! Tighten up the ropes back there, the mountain's headed down! – Hosea's voice called from the reins, my eyes darting to see we were getting into hard terrain. Still no signs of this weather calming down.

I nodded and hopped inside the wagon, securing everything from below, and shivered a bit at the difference in temperature inside here. How I missed being in the hot wild west.

When I came back out though, Arthur had finally appeared after separating from us to search for a good spot, ended up we had luck and found somewhere nice and warm to properly rest in.

"Thank goodness" I swear I could hear all of the women say in unison from the other coaches.

I let my boots fall to touch the cold ice covered ground, moving quick to not bother the path and grabbed onto the metal hold of the back of the wood to step in the other wagon behind me, sitting down with a heavy sigh next to the ladies. Tilly, Karen Mary-Beth and Molly. Anyone would realize how violently most shivered, holding themselves to not freeze on the spot.

"Y'all doing fine, girls?" I asked softly, knowing these circumstances were being hard to handle, and more with the pressure of knowing the law was behind our feet. I noticed Molly jumped a bit at my voice, smacking my arm on instance, she probably fell asleep on the way and didn't expect me here. Like anyone ever, like I'm always unwanted.

–I thought you didn't like sharing a place, Mr. Sepúlveda. – Tilly spoke from below her scarf, as I just nodded my head slightly, leaning my head back on the wooden wall of our transport.

"Yah... I don't, no, just figured out you ladies could do some chatting, honestly thought some of you froze or something from how quiet you were" I said lightheartedly, hearing Karen scoffing.

–Because we were in peace, until you came, mister. – Karen remarked yet with a smirk, making my smile fall off subtly but I chuckled anyway and nodded, keeping the small conversation going.

By the time we got to where Arthur has directed us to, everyone was too tired and cold to complain about space. We went direct to grab any space to stay warm and try to make of this place a proper camp.

It happened to be a long gone abandoned line of family cabins, as we supposed, where we now had a large cabin and three other sheds, even a stable too, something that brought at least a hint of joy knowing the horses could rest too.

We eventually all joined inside the bigger cabin, quickly bringing Davey in too and check if he still had a pulse.

–Davey's dead. – Abigail spoke directly after noticing he didn't respond to anything, his breathing was gone and his eyes were half open staring at nothing, making everyone near the sight squint their eyes in silence. I leaned against the doorframe, keeping the quiet all of us shared while Dutch went into a little speech to give us hope, finally sending all of us to do something to help, eventually.

I didn't get any order but knew what to do, since we needed to be quick and not have more losses now that we had a spot. I went to grab some wood, for the heaters and to help Pearson with the food.

I didn't walk much away from everyone else, just turning the mountain we had near and stopping by the river, where some strong looking pine trees stood untouched, up to me.

I still tried to keep facing towards the way I came from, though it was impossible for me to get lost as I was two steps away from everyone, I didn't care. I like being alone, but I do not like to go alone, they were two different things and for my brain the latter sounded like I was gonna die. It's what I constantly had on my mind.

My eyes fixed on the dark brown bark of the pine tree, taking the axe I had by my belt, tightening my hands around the handle and starting to swing. The sharp thick blade cut easily through bark, making the first hits easy until it went through wood, swinging back and forth, with every impact my arms vibrating along the weapon, my breath hitching everytime it happened.

Still, I didn't look anywhere else than what I was doing, as shadows kept appearing on the end of my eye and disappearing when I looked that way. It really felt like someone, or something, was right there, standing next to me and breathing on my neck.

I could swear I felt sweat starting to form on my palms and dripping down my neck even when there was probably negative degrees where I stood, my throat working by itself and swallowing where there wasn't even saliva, making it feel like I was being possessed. My mind was against me, and my physical body now too?

"Fuck-…" I swore under my breath when I jumped at a sudden noise, whipping my head around in panic just to see it was a pinecone that fell, next to the pile of snow that formed after I kept chopping down the tree. My eyes then narrowed as something really stung in my arm, letting my axe fall as I rolled up my sleeve, seeing a really long deep cut I made myself when I got spooked. I groaned, now my clothes were ragged too.

I squeezed my arm to let the stubborn blood fall down freely to the snow and staining it red, the same color my arm was now too. The pain now really shot up and I cursed myself yet again for being so incredibly fucking stupid I couldn't believe myself.

Realizing then that it'd be no help to complain, I rolled my sleeve back down and got back to swinging at the tree, feeling the blood soaking my dark grey coat with every movement.

"Tree!" I then yelled at, well, no one, when the wood started cracking and leaning forward, as I stepped out of the way to not get crushed to death, then left a sigh knowing I had to break it down into smaller pieces now.

While doing so, I swear I could hear a distant shooting and yelling on the either side of the mountain, but I tried to shrug it off as my imagination, it usually was just that. It took me a long good hour to finish cutting the trunk fully, putting it all in a spread cloth and hanging it over my shoulder to drag it back to camp. I left it by Pearson's place where he was stirring the usual stew, grabbing a plate for myself and humming him off when he thanked me for the spare fire wood.

I, for once, decided to eat it all right there instead of alone, since I felt way too... Watched, to go on my own for now. After checking my arm, realizing no way in hell we were prepared enough to stitch this up, I sucked it up once more and went to my supposedly assigned shed I've been told was mine, not with anyone, since I repeat; I just can't be with anyone and no one wants to be with me, I'm too paranoid for anyone to want me near.

Well this was wrong.

I opened the door quietly with my arm, looking inside and seeing my bedroll on the left side with my bag, a heater in the middle and a- A lady, sitting on the bed that was supposed to be mine. Of course I froze in my spot and just stared at her with widen eyes. I didn't recognize her at all, and she was looking at me with red puffy eyes and a hurt demeanor.

So as logically as any, my body reacted before me and slammed the door closed, rushing off to the large cabin and almost breaking the old door down in the process, attracting everyone's gaze towards me, looking confused, and then noticing my expression and went back to their thing. This was way too usual and it was getting tiring, I know.

–What's got you all nervous this time? – I heard Abigail suddenly say, being the only one to approach me in this state. Having a normal conversation now grounded me slightly.

"There was a-... Lady, in my room" I said quietly, now saying it out loud made it sound actually ridiculous without context. I looked up at her when she just snorted in laughter.

–Oh yeah, there is, she didn't bother you did she? Her name was, err, Sadie if I remember. – She spoke in her relaxed manner, making me ease up instantly, realizing it wasn't something only I 'saw'. She seemed to notice my confused look after she said so, and just waved her hand off dismissively. –Right, she's a widow that Dutch and the boys took in, she lost her husband to some O'Driscolls and her house burnt down. She got the luck of a worm, you surely wouldn't mind having her share a room with you, wouldn't ya Keita?-

I just let a little 'Oh', realizing just how wrong I got the situation. I nodded absent-mindedly and glanced around, seeing the women, Jack and Reverend resting inside, warming up by the heater.

"Speaking about them, where's Arthur?" I asked, it was very noticeable when Arthur wasn't around.

–Arthur, he went with Javier to look for John, hope he's okay, that damn idiot. – She said in an almost angered manner, probably gotten pissed over the simple thought of John, understandable really. I laughed a simple 'Heh' in a dissappointed manner, knowing I'd have to socialize first with someone that was now sleeping next to me.

My feet brought me into my now shared shed, closing the door behind me as I sat on my bedroll on the floor, putting my bag next to it and taking off my boots, just sitting there with my elbows on my knees, my gaze down. The whole thing was silent and painfully awkard, the only sound being the creaking of the wooden planks with each uncomfortable movement I made.

"Hey" I greeted first in what I tried to make a calm tone, realizing she wouldn't talk first. "They didn't tell me I was having a roommate... Not that I mind I mean, what was your name again?"

–Sadie... Sadie Adler. – She croaked out after some seconds of reading me fully, looking away, making me do so too noticing I was staring, in not a romantic or charming manner.

"Well I'm Keita... I won't get in any of your business if you don't want me to, you can ask me anything you need if you want, no problem with me..." Like I wasn't the one being all worked up over a simple 'Hello', this was my shed, damn.

She simply answered with a nod and a slight sniff, turning on the bed to most surely go to sleep, signaling no more interaction. I decided to do the same, laying on my back and covering myself with the thin cover, taking off my gloves and putting them with my other things for tomorrow, noticing they were slightly blood stained too. I just stared at the ceiling, my eyes feeling heavy and a sigh left my lips, finally dozing off.

...

"...- Shit- Ah! Ah! Fuck! Ah!" I woke up by some yelling, sitting up quickly with my breathing now heavy and my eyes looking around in panic, sweating cold.

"God... I hate my life..." I mumbled and fell back on my bedroll, passing a hand through my stubble. Great way to do first thing in the morning.

Well, I guess the lady I was sharing a room with also heard me or I've been like this for a while, from the blank spot on the bed.

Fuck... I need a cigarette.

END CHAPTER 1

AN: Y'ALL I FINALLY FINISHED 👹👹. Those weird things and all are all based on my own experiences so please don't drop comments saying it's not like reality at all. The following parts of this fanfic I'll try to make them more interesting, I just couldn't do much in Colter. Don't lose hope in me‼️

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cosurmqne · 1 year ago

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02 — a short life of trouble

[ RDR2 X fem reader , 2310 words ] — previous ✶

“what were you thinking! bringing another woman in here.” “great, another mouth to feed.” “what if she draws more trouble right to us?”

“SHUT UP! all of you. she needs help. last time i checked half of you wouldn’t be standing here today if it weren’t for us taking your sorry asses in.”

the blood stained stranger was laying down in a bed of rough canvas and animal hide, it’s fabric the softest thing she had ever felt after a month of dirt floors and blankets of pine-needles. the distant voices slowly awoke her mind, her eyes opening carefully as the morning sun stung them with its bright beams. how long had she been asleep? she knew it was morning when she was lifted onto a strangers horse, morning still when she slumped onto the mans back out of exhaustion and defeat, not even caring what would happen to her when she awoke or where he was taking her. and yet here she was, still morning? no, the stiffness of her joints suggest at least a full days rest, her legs wobbling slightly as she turned over and placed them on the soft grass beside her.

her hands travelled to her face, expecting the almost familiar texture of dried blood, crusty and flaky, but was met with her soft skin. the edges of her hair and a few tricky spots still had reminisce of blood she could scrape off with her chipped nails, but it seemed someone had wiped her face clean.

her clothes were different too, the blouse and pants she was wearing a size too big but clean and comfortable, her ripped outfit she last remembered wearing folded neatly at the end of her bed and completely pink. she figured someone had tried to scrub them clean, but the redness was impossible to remove.

“good to see you’re finally awake.”

the sudden closeness of a mans voice made her jump and spin around. she was met with a surprisingly kind face of an older man, smiling cautiously and offering a homemade mug in his left hand, the steam and smell suggesting the rare liquid that was coffee. her mouth watered instantly.

“here, it’s for you.” he moved closer, kneeling down next to her bed and placed the warm mug in her stuff hands. “don’t worry, it wont jump out at ya’”

y/n let a small smile escape her lips, “thank you.” she croaked, her voice straining and making her cough slightly. maybe she had been out for more than a day?

as she sipped her drink and let the coffee warm her from head to toe, the man continued. “my names hosea. i’m … i guess you could say i’m kind of a top man around here. just don’t tell the others i’m really in charge …. HA!” he joked and let out a small chuckle, but the woman just looked at him curiously, seemingly frozen still apart from her arms lifting up and down. he guessed he should change his approach ….

hosea cleared his throat, “ahem, well…. you sure gave us a fright earlier on. all that blood on ya, we’d thought dutch brought back a corpse, with you slumped over and all…” with again no response, he continued. “look miss, we’re good people here. well, not really good, but better than most, i can assure you. why don’t we go somewhere a little more private, you can talk to me. tell me how you got into this mess.”

he stood and offered his arm. to y/n’s surprise, she rose and linked her own. while she should never trust a man so easily, her conscience screaming at her for it. but he seemed kind. honest and trustworthy. human. something she hadn’t seen in a long time. besides, she figured if they had wanted her dead, she would be face down in a river by now…

they walked, making a beeline towards the trees in front of them. “what was your name miss?” hosea asked.

“y/n.” she responded.

with her eyes adjusted, bearings found and legs moving again, she let herself scan the area around her. she was in a camp, one that seemed small but … live in? tents, campfires, horses and even a kitchen of sorts was set up. quite a few people were living here, men, women, even a child? she tried avoided the eye contact of the strangers around her, not knowing what mess she could have landed herself into. it seemed a few had stopped their morning chores for a fleeting moment to get a glimpse at her walking past them, pretending to take no notice of her and continuing on whenever she caught their eye. had they been waiting for her to wake up? she guessed she was a stranger sleeping amongst them, concluding she would be just as curious to get a glance at herself as well.

looking around still, she held the gaze of a familiar face, the one she had once pointed a gun towards and one took her to this place. dutch was his name right? hosea beside her seemed to look his way as well, letting out a single tune whistle and pointing his head towards the forest they were heading too. the dark haired man instantly dismissed the two men he was talking to and started coming their way. it was like a shepards call she thought, a codependent understanding that could only be trained with years of practice.

“here, this is a nice spot. i tend to do a lot of thinking here.” hosea said, leading and sitting them both down to opposite logs on soft grassy ground, much greener than the almost dirt floors back at the camp, untouched and unflattened by consistent steps. it looked out over the lake that surrounded the area, but was still thick with trees and streaked with sunlight peeking through the canopy.

the heavy footsteps of dutch became closer, his voice loud and true, “aaah, our celebrity guest, awake at last.”

as he stood before them, y/n rose upright at once, standing stiff and attentive before she could stop herself. she tried to swallow the familiar feeling of guilt like a rock stuck in her throat. “th… thank you.” she let out, quicker than she was intending. “i’d sure be dead and buried if not for you.”

she felt like this needed to said, right then and there. not totally understanding it herself, but knowing that his actions will forever be a debt she could probably never return. she knew from experience and dread that owing someone an unpayable debt was the worst burden to carry, and a feeling she wanted to loosen as soon as possible. a thanks was a start.

dutch just smiled and chuckled, raising his hands up like he did in the forest on their first encounter, “theres no need for thanks, just … take it a day at a time. at ease.”

y/n sat back down, almost embarrassed by her outburst but distracted when hosea spoke up. “dutch here said you had a run in with some o’driscolls. dealt with them pretty well too, where did you learn to shoot like that?”

the woman swallowed, she figured there was no reason to be coy anymore. a voice in the back of her head was yelling out, what are you doing!? you don’t know these men!? they don’t need to know nothin’!? and yet …. she was almost beyond caring about that now.

“my pa taught me,” she admitted, taken aback already by her honesty. “and my brother. he was a lot older than i am, sharp shooter and kept us out of trouble.”

dutch let out a noise, “tsss, some trouble you must have had. not even half my men here couldn’t kill with such efficiency.”

“well, we had a farm up north, a big property. it wasn’t much, just a few horses to sell and trade but it had been with my family for generations. it was home.” she paused. dutch and his partner were sitting opposite her and staring with unbroken attention, seemingly hanging on every word. it threw her off a little but she continued on. “being isolated up there we were bound to run into trouble, usually just some fool trying to swipe a horse, wolves maybe trying to take one for a meal. nothing unusual, but being able to take care of ourselves was a high priority, and my pa taught us well. he made sure we knew how to handle all kinds of trouble…”

“when my brother went and got himself killed down south in the war, it was me who was left in charge, with my father too old and my mother untrained. we got along just fine, until these men keep knocking at our door. harassing us, showing up constantly, trashing our barns, stealing our horses. they wanted us gone, for what reason i couldn’t say … after a few months it was manageable, i’d shot enough of them to make their appearances less frequent… but…”

she had stopped, her throat closing slightly her but no tears threatened to break free. she was thankful, crying in front of these men seemed like the worst scenario. never again would she let a sign of weakness slip from her. she had done her weeping, was done with meekness and dependency. she could tell dutch sensed that about her, while hosea watched her with concern and understanding, he was smirking slightly, like he was seeing straight through to her core.

“but?” dutch pushed her on.

with a tough swallow, she continued. “but… one day when i was collecting water from our well down by the river, i looked back up the to see a pillar of smoke. thick, grey and as high as i’d ever seen. by the time i ran back and got view of our burning home, our barns were pitch black, the horses aflame and running in every which direction, the air orange and almost unbreathable. when i saw the roof of our house collapse completely, i knew it was over. everything inside was destroyed, my parents included….” she cleared her throat. “i had just raced to our shed and grabbed as many guns as i could carry, when i heard men laughing. all those men, probably twenty, who had been coming up to us for months. all here. i realised they must have all been from some sort of gang, and could tell they’d tried to steal as much as they could from us. i knew we had hardly any money in the house, and by the small bad one of them was holding, they’d only managed to swipe no more than 30 dollars …. all that . my home, my family, everything. taken away for 30 dollars….”

she could feel heat rising through her cheeks, hands clenched into fists without knowing and her voice rising. “i guess they weren’t happy with that and decided to make their exhibition worth their time… their laughing stopped as soon as i started shooting. one by one, not even caring to hide or take cover, just wanting them dead. i needed them all dead. i don’t even know or care to remember what happened. a-mist the flames and gunpowder i one jumped me, but id stabbed with him their own knives. i shot though them all like they were no more than the deer i had killed countless times for supper. like it was a necessity, not a murder.”

“wether they were all dead or ran away or lost in the fires, i’d escaped with nothing but what i had on me. for months i’ve been running, not really sure what to do, where to go. stealing food, money, constantly moving and too scared to fall asleep or stay in one spot for longer than a week… i ran into a few more of those men here and there, they seemed to be scouting me. i learnt that they called themselves the o’driscolls and their leader was furious that a woman had outsmarted his men, that a quick robbery had turned into a slaughter. he wanted me dead. still wants me dead i guess…”

“and, this is where we meet?” dutch said, his arms now rested on his knees and hands fidgeting with the large rings on his hands but full attention of her words.

“yes, i’d been running for four days straight, how far i travelled i’m not too sure but i knew they wanted me dead for good. they’d sent a bunch of those irish bastards to me and i was constantly trying to lose them. i didn’t know if i was alive or dead, asleep or awake, i just shot anything that moved, trusted no one and tried to make it to the next sunrise… and yes, thats where you come into the picture and … i guess, now i’m here.”

“well … hell of a time you’ve had.” hosea finally spoke, his sympathetic gaze surprisingly comforting. when he reached out and cupped his hands on her own, she didn’t resist. “you can let your guard down y/n, you’ll be safe here for however long you need. i assure you, we hate those o’driscolls just as much as you do. for every one of those fools shot dead the dirt beneath us gains another worm!” to this, he chuckled to himself, y/n even letting out a small giggle.

dutch joined in with his deep laugh, “oh yes, you will fit in just fine here miss.” he stood up and gestured to the camp behind him, now full of activity. “this gang can be your home now, we’re all misfits and outlaws, once lost and then found again.”

he looked at her not with hoseas sympathy, but with eyes that assessed and schemed, invasive and sharp.

“yes, i think you’ll be just fine…”

#red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #kieran duffy #dutch van der linde #dutch van der line x reader #rdr2 oneshots #rdr #rdr2 #read dead redemption

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yandereunsolved · 22 hours ago

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Time traveler!reader (especially a fem reader) shocking the women (but mostly everyone) of the gang by the way they dress and act and a lot of them see it as not "ladylike" since it's 1899

-🐟

tag: @shackspossum

Back then you could get arrested for not conforming to gender norms. The conservatives in America today are trying to bring that back. So I can't imagine Time Traveler! reader would have that great of a culture shock. (Time Traveler! reader would have had to visit America at least once to admire the dumpster fire.)

They'd be trying to get darling to fit into clothes that won't get them arrested, especially considering the VDL gang plans on keeping darling with them.

#🐟 anon #<- she/her haver #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #yandere rdr2 #van der linde gang #van der linde gang x reader #yandere van der linde gang #x reader #time traveler reader #time travel

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dreamdaddydutch · 2 years ago

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✒️All writing - Master list ✮

🖤 I finally decided to not only update my Masterlist, but to re-do it completely. Below are the current 57 pieces of writing I’ve done for the RDR2 fandom, split into four categories; Headcanons, Long fics - all 18+ explicit so minors DNI, Explicit fics (just shorter or headcanons) and Drabbles. I’ve tagged the characters I write about most frequently, but have written about others/included others in headcanons. Over time I will update this list to include better summaries, word count, clearer pairings etc. But for now I’ve left a rough idea next to each one. 🖤

Headcanons ★

Time of the Month - How the gang reacts - Headcanons for Charles, Arthur, Javier and Sadie - how they look after you when you’re on your period. Warning for blood/a little smut.

Sleep Paralysis - How the Gang react - Headcanons for Javier, Tilly, Hosea, Lenny & Kieran. Little thoughts on how these members of the gang would help if you awoke from experiencing night terrors/sleep paralysis and the things they’d do for you.

Time Travel head canons - Self-explanatory - A collection of thoughts regarding the gang and if they time-traveled to our time - some of it involves the reader.

Lenny - Guard Duty Headcanons - Pretty self-explanatory, just a collection of thoughts on what it would be like to be on guard duty with Lenny.

Pottery Date Headcanon - Javier x gender neutral reader. Short head canon imagining going on a date with Javier - it’s basically imagining ‘that’ scene in the film Ghost.

Van Der Linde Gang time travel karaoke head canons - Does what it says on the tin.

Headcanons - Dutch reacting to their s/o being teased - Request. does wha it says on the tin. Pretty fluffy really and with gender neutral s/o.

Sean Looking after you headcanons - :) Gotta give Sean some love and he clearly likes looking after others!

Javier Teaching you how to play 5-finger fillet. Long head canon regarding Javier’s teaching methods (he’d be the best and sweetest teacher)

Taking Mary-Beth to a book store Headcanons - Time travel, it’s short and sweet but I love Mary-Beth and she deserves the world.

Headcanons - reader sleeping on Dutch. Request. Honestly one of my favourite things I’ve written, it’s cute and fluffy!

Drawing Headcanons - Request. Fluff. Hosea/Arthur/Dutch and how they react to a reader who loves to draw members of the gang/the camp.

Javier/Charles/Arthur in an argument with reader - Request. CW relating to heated arguments/flinching in case of violence (of which there is none).

Going for drinks with Lenny Fluffy & Fun. Does what it says on the tin.

Trelawny ‘s favourite plants - fluffy, thoughts on what plants Trelawny loves and why - kind of linked to my piece ‘Everyday Magic’

Christmas/Yule with Javier

Arthur being jealous & possessive

🔞 Long Fics - All 18+ Minors DNI ★

The Fairytale She Wove Pairing: Dutch x ofc (his s/o) - It’s over 17k words long, it’s easily my favourite thing that I’ve written for this fandom. There’s smut/angst/some violence and a warning for miscarriage. Essentially I wanted to write about what it would be like to be Dutch’s s/o through the years, the good and the bad. I may revisit this and add at some point.

Damned from the start. Request. Quite a bit of Angst. Pairing - Javier x f! s/o. Javier falls in love with Bronte’s daughter without knowing her true identity. Naturally when things go down, it gets awkward and Javier questions his feelings/loyalty.

Absolution at the base of your Altar - Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four. Pairing - Javier x afab reader. The reader was at Blackwater and thus carries around a lot of anxiety/survivors guilt over what happened. She thinks of something that may help her process the grief and guilt, but it will take Javier’s help. A lot of content warnings apply aside from the smut/explicit material, there are references to survivors guilt, anxiety, mental health, degradation, religion/theology, spitting during sex, reader being triggered by certain words during sex, hair pulling, choking.

When It Rains - Hurt/Comfort/Angst . Javier choses Dutch over the one he loves, only later to return to them and beg for forgiveness.

🔞 18+ only/explicit ★

Ride of a Life time Part 1 - The Ride of a lifetime Part 2 Dutch x female reader - smut - Whilst the gang escapes in the middle of the night, Dutch and the reader ‘get dirty’ whilst riding the Count. Dutch has a new toy he wants to introduce to her…

First Times - Wax Play - Javier x gender neutral reader - smut - Headcanons (though a lot of bullet points, I got carried away) for the first time Javier and his s/o experiment with wax in the bedroom.

I See You - Charles x gender neutral reader. Smut & Angst/Hurt/Comfort. This broke my heart writing it… The reader was Arthur’s s/o, Charles promises to look after them, after Arthur’s death the reader and Charles process the pain by sleeping together.

Javier (slow, romantic sex) Headcanon - This is just fluff and smut really. Thoughts on Javier being super tender and romantic during love making.

What Do we have Here? - Molly O’Shea x female reader - Smut & some fluff - The reader comforts Molly after a particularly bad argument with Dutch, manages to soothe her by ‘getting into bed’. Of course there’s a chance they get caught.

Coming undone - Javier x John - Smut (a little fluff) To escape a storm, John and Javier decide to stay in a hotel, there’s only one room with one bed left, but that’s okay. After a bath, Javier heads back into the bedroom to find John, naked, in front of a mirror watching his reflection as he gets himself off. Javier intervenes.

Torturous - Dom Dutch x f! reader - (Prompt) - Smut (includes bondage and edging) Dutch is punishing the reader by fucking them incredibly slowly and teasing them a lot, no matter how much the reader begs/whines for more.

Punishment - Dutch x f! s/o reader - (Prompt) Smut (a little fluff) The reader hasn’t been pulling their weight in camp so Dutch decides it’s time to punish them with a good spanking. Also contains a little over-stimulation and squirting.

A lesson in intimacy - Javier x Reader - Reader wakes to find they got their period during the night, Javier awakens to wonder what’s up. A lot of fluff/comfort and Javier being a sweetheart. Also contains Menstruation sex so please read with caution.

Charles gives a spanking - Request. 18+. Gender neutral reader. The reader opens up to Charles regarding the benefits of a good and loving spanking.

Dutch Face-sitting head canons Request. Dutch x f! reader. 18+ Does what it says on the tin.

HomeComing - 18+ Dutch x gender neutral reader. Imagine what it would be like returning to the gang after several weeks away, especially if you were Dutch’s s/o...

Punishment befits jealousy - Request. 18+ Spanking. Dutch x gender neutral reader. The reader lashes out at Mary-Beth with jealously, Dutch gives them punishment in the form of spanking.

The Lawman’s Uniform - Request. 18+ Dutch x f! reader. The reader (Dutch’s s/o) gets turned on by seeing Dutch in the lawman’s uniform, but is too nervous to say anything. Dutch takes matters into his own hands.

The Lawman - Request. 18+ Dutch x male reader. Dutch’s life is basically saved by a lawman, they’ve seen each other several times, started to get a feel for one another and realise there’s a connection. They decide to commit to this connection.

Take me to church - 18 + Request. Dutch x f! reader. Dutch robs the reader at gunpoint, the reader is in to it....

In A Cave - Request. Javier x gender neutral reader. Fluff. Things are pretty tough in Beaver Hollow, Javier knows that so he joins his love who is sat in the cave escaping the rain to comfort and reassure them.

Snow Request. Charles x gender neutral reader. 18+ In Colter the reader and Charles manage to get a moment away from the others to connect and return to their primal states while escaping the snow.

Pleasant Encounters - 18+ Dutch x f! reader. Based on a dream I had about Dutch. The reader meets Dutch at one of the mayor’s parties and gets to know him really well.

Thigh Riding with the gang - Featuring Javier, Charles, Lenny, Dutch & Mary-Beth. Does what it says on the tin.

Together - Javier x Gender neutral reader. When things get difficult, sometimes the best medicine is just being close to the one you love.

First time - Dutch x afab reader. Just some thoughts on the first time the reader has anal sex with Dutch, how he prepares them/looks after them etc.

Caught off Guard. Request. Dutch x afab reader. Set during Guarma, reader should be on guard duty but Dutch catches her pleasuring herself instead. He takes things into his own hands, quite literally.

Drabbles ★

What am I to you? - Arthur x gender neutral reader. Fluff & some angst/low self esteem. Based on a prompt I got sent, the reader and Arthur go fishing, Arthur asks a question that’s been playing on his mind. Longer pieces of fiction

I can’t believe you believed me? Dutch and Hosea (being dads) - No warnings - a little fluffy. Based on another prompt that was sent to me, Dutch decides to try and get Hosea back for all his years of pranks and show the conman he isn’t always on the ball.

Just Breathe - Javier x Charles - gender neutral reader (Platonic) Hurt/Comfort/Fluff. The reader has a pretty awful panic attack and leaves the camp as they don’t wish the others to see. Javier and Charles find them and comfort them and help to coach them through it and calm down. Written in a way that can be taken as platonic, but also potential relationship.

Everyday Magic. Trelawny x gender neutral reader. Fluff. Trelawny and the reader are out on a mission for the Gang, they enter a greenhouse where the reader’s mind is opened to the beauty of plants. They and Trelawny share a heartfelt conversation over lunch which leads to a little more than was expected.

A Prophecy - Fluff/angst/comfort. Arthur & Mary-Beth talk about their future and Mary-Beth’s writing.

The Opera Singer. Request. Arthur is at one of the Mayor’s parties, there’s a female opera singer and he just cannot take his eyes of her. Of course Dutch has to intervene to make it awkward.

The Bird - Javier x gender neutral reader. Fluff/romance. This started off as something that was meant to be a short paragraph but ended up being a mini fic. The reader and javier are in love, they find an injured, young bird and look after it. The bird represents other parts of their relationship.

Singing while Javier plays guitar - Request. Pure fluff. The reader loves hearing Javier play guitar and sing in the evenings, it helps them sleep. Occasionally they join in.

Molly reading Arthur’s diary - Request. One day Molly finds Arthur’s diary when he drops it, before returning it she has a quick read and within finds his thoughts about her.

Everything will be okay in the end Pairing: Javier x reader. Fluff, a little angst. Javier comforting the reader when things get tough. Written during the covid days.

Autumn Haze - Lots of fluff, a little angst. Plenty of Javier providing comfort.

Kissing You - Fluff. Javier x gender neutral reader. The reader dreams of kissing Javier under the mistletoe, this fics shows that occasionally dreams can come true.

#My writing #Masterlist #Javier Escuella #Dutch Van Der Linde #Charles Smith #Arthur Morgan #Lenny Summers #mary-beth gaskill #Sadie Adler #hosea matthews #josiah trelawny #rdr2 x reader

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rodolfoparras · 1 year ago

Note

from the rdr2 ask

r is reader akssjsjs 😭 and rdr2 is like 1899 wild west cowboys set in usa (for context)

I'm thinking r gets up on his horse (who's actually a horse of one of the men he killed), he looks back once again, the white of his eyes standing out in the blood covering his face, and catches gaz's eyes. it's a silent goodbye, but not one on a good note. r gallops away from where the 141 has set camp, not knowing where to go next or even where he's going to get a meal or sleep tonight. honestly he fall asleep right now from how exhausted he is from the fight and the lack of sleep the last few days, but he keeps riding till he's certain no one has followed him, then finds a nice tree to pass out under.

meanwhile, back at the camp, gaz is at a loss of words. people he considered family, people that Are his family lied to him about you. worse than that, they left you out to die, after gaz had been the one to save you. when they first met you, you were apprehensive of tagging along w them, not wanting to be a burden, and gaz reassured you it's okay. and all he can think of now is how you must think that gaz's promises meant nothing. and he knows you'd be right to think so when the people he trusted the most have betrayed him like this. he asks them one simple thing, "why?" he didn't shout or look angry, but everyone knew better than to think he wasn't. he was fuming.

"kyle, you can't expect us to just up and trust some stranger. you know we have plans in motion, plans that we can't risk anyone else getting the wind of..." price spoke up.

"so you left him to die? if that is what we are now, I want no part of it," gaz said, and he could almost see soap's eyes bulge out at the insinuation of leaving. they might be wary of outsiders, but they still love gaz dearly. and gaz loves them too, and deep down he knows he could never really leave them.

"i wasn't going to wait for him to slit our throats in our sleep, yeah?" soap said in frustration and a second later price and ghost had to break gaz's grip on his throat, pushing them apart.

"why do you even care so much, eh? in love w the lad or what?" soap coughs out, and the look on gaz's face says everything. first the knowledge of gaz possibly caring about this stranger sinks in, then comes the dread of what they did to the man gaz cared about, their heads now hanging low. ghost tries to say smth, but it's too late and gaz is storming off, trying to find some place to be alone.

he settles down near the stream, he tells himself he has to accept the fact that he might never see you again. that is if you're alive. he's so worried about you, wondering how you manage the injuries all on your own, just one horse to keep you company, the blood soaked clothes on your back, and not much else. by god, he's so worried about you he could cry. and he knows even if he sees you again, you'll want nothing to do w him. he can't go after you. he can't bear to see the faces of his family, the people he asked you to trust, after they've all but stabbed you in the back. so he sits alone, and thinks and think and thinks.

he thinks about how you must've felt, when left alone in the middle of an already unfair gunfight. he can't imagine what that feeling of being completely alone in the middle of certain death must've felt like. but then he thinks about how you made it out anyways. always fighting death. he thinks of how he's seen you survive against all odds, cheating death twice in the time he's known you. he hopes that you live through the aftermath of the fight too. and he hopes to find you again some time. he hopes he can get the chance to apologize and maybe, just maybe you'll believe him. he wants to hold you, he wants to tell you all the things he wasn't brave enough to in the 10 weeks you travelled w them. he hopes he hasn't missed his chance.

-❕️

SUGAR THIS WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL READ IM BEING SO SERIOUS THIS IS SO WELL WRITTEN I LOVED THIS you can genuinely feel how sad gaz is for reader and how torn he feels being in the position that he is in it’s also very clear he absolutely loves reader please 🧎🏻‍♂️ BUT WHY ANOTHER CLIFF HANGER IM GOING TO SCREAM

#alec answers #❕anon

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mediocrecowboyhat · 3 months ago

Text

Set in sand - Chapter 4

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Word count: 4081

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

"Let me clear those cans for you, Mr. Pearson.", you tell the cook as you sweep the empty food cans into a sack.

The man lifts his eyebrows slightly in surprise, but the expression leaves his face as fast as it had appeared. With a gruff 'thank you' that he mumbles into his mustache, he turns away to continue his work.

Do you genuinely want to clean the camp up a bit? Yes. Do you have any ulterior motive with this? Absolutely.

Lately the cogs and gears in your mind have been turning and replaying the recent events that took place in Valentine and back in Colter. It's not an exaggeration to say that you downright suck at handling weapons and the wolf pack and the drunk man are just two of many reasons why you should start getting better at it.

Some of the people in the camp turn their heads in your direction as you haul the sack over your shoulder and make your way off the cliff towards the river. The clanking of the metal you're carrying is probably alarming the entire wildlife and everyone who passes by.

What you need is a nice, secluded spot so no one interrupts you and you know just the place. One of the boys has mentioned a clearing off road close by the river. The sound of the rushing water is going to drown out any noise you'll be creating.

After a 20 minute walk you reach your destination and start lining up the cans on a rock.

Okay, let's do this.

You squint your eyes to get a better aim and raise the revolver with both hands. You've seen Arthur shoot with just one arm before, but there is no way you'd be able to pull that off. It would look kind of badass though.

After firing a couple shots, you step closer to the targets to inspect your results and surprise! None of the bullets came even close to the cans and you shake your head in frustration.

So you try it again.

And again.

And again...

"Fucking shit!", you hiss under your breath and hurl the gun at the makeshift targets with an irritated noise emanating from your throat. Of course you miss that as well.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you supposed to shoot at the targets and not around 'em?", a male voice behind you says and you turn around.

You let out an offended huff as Arthur hitches up his horse on one of the trees and you pick up your revolver from the ground.

"Easy for you to say.", you mumble and aim for the cans.

Suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders and the unexpected contact sends a startled shiver down your spine.

"Relax your shoulders a bit. You ain't gonna hit nothin' if you're stiff as a plank.", he says in a low voice. "Take a deep breath in and then breathe out. Once there's no more air in your lungs, shoot."

You can't imagine how much of a difference that's going to make, but you decide to take his advice anyways. After pushing all the air out of your lungs, you let your shoulders relax and pull the trigger.

Well, you might not have hit the target, but the bullet got definitely a bit closer this time. The corner of your mouth curl up into a thrilled grin and Arthur nods in your direction.

"That wasn't too bad. If ya keep up like this we might just make a fine gunslinger out of ya."

You let out an amused chuckle at his comment.

"Sure. I'm just happy if I manage to not accidentally put a bullet in my own head."

"That doesn't sound too ideal, no. I prefer ya alive."

The outlaw walks over to a tree and leans his back against it while lighting a cigarette. It doesn't look like he's in a hurry to leave anytime soon, so you keep on practicing.

None of the food cans are being knocked off, but at least you manage to hit the rock they're lined up on. That counts as a victory in your book if anyone asks.

"So, what are you doing out here?", you ask Arthur after emptying your cattleman of ammunition.

"I saw you leave camp with a suspicious amount of trash and thought I'd look into it.", he answers teasingly and pushes himself off the treetrunk. "I'm kiddin'. Strauss sent me to collect some debt."

Upon hearing the word 'debt', you snap your head up to look at him. Is he on his way to Thomas Downes right now? Or worse. Maybe he's already on his way back.

Silently you curse yourself out for not paying closer attention to the outlaw's activities, but it's not like you can follow him around the place 24/7.

"And who is the poor soul who owes us money?", you ask and try your hardest to sound casual.

"Some guy called Wróbel."

It feels like a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders when you hear the name and you bite back a relieved sigh. For a second there you really thought you have fucked it all up.

"Can I join you?"

The look Arthur gives you makes it seem like you asked him to shoot you between the eyes.

"Ah, I don't know about that. Collectin' money from people...it can get nasty and I wouldn't want you to get caught up in some crossfire."

"I can take care of myself.", you answer in a matter of fact way and raise the revolver for him to see.

At that he simply let's out a snort.

"You couldn't kill a mouse if it was blind, deaf and had no legs."

You make no effort to mask your offense, but decide to fight him no further on this topic. Yes, you want to go with him and help, but you're not stupid. You're aware that you'd be putting yourself and possibly him in danger unnecessarily.

With a sigh, you slide the gun back into the holster of your belt and start collecting the cans to put them back into the sack. It would be a good idea to hide it between some rocks and make this area your designated spot for shooting practice.

The thought of having to carry your makeshift targets from camp to here and then back again didn't fill you with much joy.

"I should head back I think.", you say to Arthur after cleaning up the space and he motions towards his horse.

"Let me give ya a ride home."

At that you shake your head. "Oh, you don't have to go out of your way to bring me home. You were heading out to the opposite direction and the walk isn't that long."

But it doesn't look like you can convince him to let you go by yourself.

"I don't mind the small detour. Come on."

With a soft smile on your lips, you hoist yourself up onto the back of the horse. Shortly after that Arthur jumps onto the saddle as well and the two of you start going.

It's a bit of a struggle to not slide off during the ride so you make sure to hold onto Arthur's jacket tightly. You just hope you're not squeezing him too hard. Not that that would hurt a mountain of a man such as him, but still.

Surprisingly enough, he is, this time, the one to break the silence between you. "You seem to fit in with everyone just fine."

He's right. Before your journey you were worried sick about what the others in the gang might think of you. You are no outlaw and have zero experience and knowledge about that line of work.

Sure, Arthur has talked about some members almost fondly in his journal, but that doesn't change what these people are at the end of the day. Criminals and criminals aren't known to be the welcoming kind.

"Because everyone is so nice.", you answer with a hint of disbelief in your voice. "Or most of the people are nice."

The comment at the end stole a quiet cackle from the man.

"If you think we're nice then I don't wanna meet the people you kept around before you met us."

Now it's your turn to laugh.

"Oh, you know what they say. Bad company is better than no company."

"I think that saying goes a little different.", he argues in a playful spirit.

The awkwardness that was always hanging in the air when you two first met has disappeared completely by now. It's safe to say that Arthur is one of the few people in the gang you feel fully comfortable with.

Funny, how fast you're starting to feel safe around him as well considering that he has killed, robbed and injured countless folks, but that's something that oddly enough never comes to mind when you're with him.

With some other gang members your brain and body automatically become more vigilant when you find yourself in their proximity. Not with him though.

The ride back to camp comes sooner to an end than you would have liked and you carefully slide off the horse. That one time you got off you almost fell face first into the ground and you'd prefer to avoid that. At least infront of people.

"Thanks, Arthur."

"Ah, as I said I don't mind a small detour.", he says with a wave of his hand.

"I don't only mean the ride."

The corners of his mouth lift for a split second before he tips his black hat in your direction and trots away with his horse. As you look after him, you don't notice a certain blonde woman join your side.

A knowing smirk is displayed on her freckled face and she playfully pokes your shoulder. "Look who's sweet on Arthur."

Heat shoots into your face and you hastily shake your head.

"Sweet on him? Who? Me? No." You're really not doing yourself any favors with how awful that denial sounded.

Karen on the other hand finds your embarrassment more than entertaining and she let's out a loud, hearty laugh.

"Relax! I'm just teasin' ya."

Knowing that she isn't being serious with her accusation does calm you down a bit. It's just that you don't want these people to get the wrong idea. Besides, you're not here to date anyone.

Catching feelings during your stay here would complicate things too much. You don't belong here and you're not here to stay.

Much to your own relief Karen stops teasing you immediately after and asks you to join her for a cup of coffee while you chat about your day. That's when your eyes fall on Sadie who's sitting on a log at the edge of camp.

Even in that distance you can't overlook how puffy and red her eyes are. Poor thing has been crying nearly everyday and Miss Grimshaw has started to give her a harsh time for not "contributing enough".

What does that woman expect from her? It's not like one can simply stop mourning over their spouse over night. Then an idea begins to form in your head and you walk over to Sadie after your talk with Karen.

"Hey.", you softly make your presence known to not startle the woman. People here seem to have the tendency to sneak up on others on a regular basis. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go run some errands with me."

She lifts her head to look at you, a thoughtful expression on her face as if she's considering your offer.

"I'm not too sure if I'm in the mood for shoppin'.", she answers. Only now do you take actual notice of her deep southern drawl.

With one casual movement of your hand you slide your coat aside to reveal your weapon belt and the weapon attached to it. If you remember correctly from the journal, Sadie is one unrestrained force of nature.

You might not have anything too exciting planned for the two of you, but your shopping destination might pique her interest.

"I need some bullets."

For the first time since you've met her, something flickers in her gaze as her eyes fall on the revolver. It's hard to tell what it means.

"I'll help ya prepare the wagon." With these words she stands up from the log and together you starting getting the horses and everything else ready.

Sadie is kind enough to take over the reigns which is something you're extremely grateful for. You don't feel confident enough in your driving skills to get out of the forest unscathed just yet.

"I had no idea you owned a gun.", she breaks the silence and your fingers trace over the leather of the belt.

"A friend gave it to me. For protection."

"And do you know how to use it?"

A bitter chuckle escapes your throat as you think about the unscathed cans back at your practice spot.

"Not at all."

She let's out an amused noise and shoots you a quick look. "I can teach ya if ya want."

Your eyes widen as you watch her from the side. "You'd really help me?"

"Of course. I can handle a gun. My husband and I-" The words get caught up in her throat as if she's choking on them.

Her eyes are fixed on the road and you can tell that the memories of her late husband still lay heavy on her. Of course they do.

You decide that it's better to not push the topic and instead place your hand on her shoulder. For the remainder of the ride you just sit in silence, but it's not awkward. It's actually kind of nice.

By the time you arrive at Valentine the sun is already setting and you hurry to the gunsmith. Thankfully Francis has given you a gun from the 1890s instead of a modern one. Otherwise you wouldn't be able to buy ammunition and goddamn, do you need it.

While you pay for a pack of bullets you catch Sadie inspect a rifle in the corner of your eyes. It looks so familiar in her hands and you're really starting to look forward to the shooting lessons with her.

It's a nice chance to build a connection with her and maybe, hopefully distract her for at least a short while. She needs a break.

"I'll head out and check the general store while we're here. Do you wanna come?"

She lowers the rifle and thinks for a moment before answering. "No, I'll look around a bit longer."

"Okay, see you at the wagon then.", you say as you exit the shop.

On your way to the general store you pass the saloon and it sounds like a whole commotion is going on in there. Any other time you'd just walk by, not paying it any mind, but there is an all too familiar voice booming through the entrance.

With your interest piqued, you step through the double swinging doors and find a very drunk, very confused looking Arthur.

"Lenny!"

Lenny is here too?

The outlaw spins around, screaming for the young man from the top of his lungs and visibly upsetting the other customers with the noise. Then his eyes fall on you and they light up in recognition while a wide grin begins to spread on his flushed face.

"Hey! When did ya get here?", he yells excitedly and walks over to you with swaying steps.

"How many drinks did you have?", you ask as you watch him struggle to keep his balance.

"A couple."

Another voice that you recognize chimes in. "Arthur! Where have you been? I was lookin' all over for you."

Lenny comes stumbling along with the same big smile on his face like Arthur. He too reacts absolutely thrilled at your presence and gives your shoulder a friendly pat.

Chuckling, you shake your head. "I shall leave you boys to it then."

"No, you should stay!", protests Lenny almost immediately which earns an eager nod from Arthur. It's so odd to see the latter man this...let's say bouncy to put it mildly.

"Sorry, I can't. Sadie is waiting for me outside."

You don't even give them the opportunity to try to talk you into staying some longer. With a quick pat on their shoulder, you swiftly start to leave. However their night is going to end, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to not get involved.

Sadie tilts her head in a puzzled manner when you return back to her and climb onto the wagon. "You didn't buy anythin'?"

"Nah, I got distracted, but it's okay. It wasn't important anyways.", you answer as you shake your head.

You bite back a chuckle when you remember the look on Arthur's face once he spotted you in the saloon. He looked so genuinely happy to see you.

The mental image stirs something up deep within you, but it vanishes before you could identify the feeling.

---

The midday sun is high in the sun and beating down on you. Pearls of swear are starting to form on your forehead and you wipe them away with the sleeve of your blouse.

Mr. Pearson had asked you to help him cut up some vegetables for the stew which you happily agreed to. It's a job where you can think and daydream by yourself without having to focus too much on the task at hand.

Even now you're lost in your thoughts until a mix of groaning and grunting abruptly rips you out of your mind palace. You look up to see where the noise is coming from and lock eyes with Arthur.

His expression is sour and his face is paler than ever. By the looks of it it must have been a long night yesterday. Lenny is following closely behind him and doesn't look any better.

"Seems like you boys had fun last night.", you comment with a smirk und Arthur takes a seat on a folding chair close to the cooking station.

"I don't even remember most of it.", he grumbles and runs his hand over his face. "I feel like shit."

"And you look like it too.", you reply and he let's out a bitter snort.

"Thanks."

You hand him a water flask which he gratefully accepts and chugs almost everything in one go.

"Why did you guys go out drinking anyways?" Curiosity is laying heavy in your voice. Sure, they drink a beer or two, but Arthur and Lenny don't really strike you as the type to get this piss drunk on a random occasion.

"Lenny came back from Strawberry all anxious yesterday, because Micah got arrested."

Everything within you basically gags at the mere mention of that two faced snake. Saying that the reminder of him alone makes you feel uncomfortable in ways you have never felt before is a blatant understatement.

"There's talk of hangin' him."

"Here's hoping.", you answer which earns you a cackle from Arthur.

"That's exactly what I told Dutch."

He hands you back the water flask and pushes himself up from the chair with a pained grunt. "I gotta head out though."

You follow his movement with widened eyes and raised eyebrows. "But you just got here. Shouldn't you rest a bit?"

"Nah, I gotta meet up with the boys to rescue Sean. We got a lead on where he is."

That name rings a bell. You haven't met him yet, but you know that he's been taken by some bountyhunters after that mysterious riverboat job everyone keeps referencing.

"Okay, just make sure to come back in one piece.", you yell after him and he simply lifts his hand to indicate that he heard you.

---

Arthur, Sean, Javier and Charles arrive late during the evening and loud cheering echoes through the camp. They have all missed him very much. Especially Karen who looks like she's going to tear up any moment.

"I had no idea you were so sweet on him.", you comment which earns you a slap on the shoulder.

"Oh, shut it.", she says through chuckles, but doesn't deny it.

The Irishman's return turns into a warm welcoming party. Drinks are being shared and the sound of Javier's guitar and laughter fills the air. The sight of Karen being practically glued to Sean's side steals an amused smirk from you.

Tilly who's sitting next to you at the fireplace sways her body from side to side in sync with the guitar's melody and she passes a whisky bottle to you. With a mumbled 'thank you' you take a swig from it and feel the warmth from the alcohol spread in your chest.

You're starting to really enjoy the gang's energy and the strong sense of community in this camp. It's starting to almost feel like a big family to you instead of just a bunch of random people who have happened to end up being grouped up together.

"Would you like to dance with me, Arthur?"

Mary-Beth stands up from a chair and straightens her blue skirt. He thinks for a second before he nods and places his hand on her waist. "Sure, why not."

You watch them with a soft smile and laugh quietly to yourself at the view. Arthur with his massive stature is moving in a rather clumsy and rough manner, but the grin on his face shows how much fun he's having.

It's so nice to see him like this.

"Why don't you go ask him to dance with you too?", Tilly asks and rips you out of your thoughts. You blink a couple times at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Her lips curl up in a playful way and she nudges your shoulder with hers.

"You know exactly what I mean."

You awkwardly cough into your fist at her statement and shake your head. "It's nothing like that, Tilly."

The look on her face makes it more than obvious that she doesn't believe a word youre saying, but drops the topic much to your relief. To avoid any further embarrassment you decide to let your gaze wander somewhere else and stifle a yawn.

Maybe it's time to head to bed.

Some of the others have gone to sleep as well by now so it wouldn't be too weird of you to leave the party.

Before you get up from the log, you hand the whisky bottle back to Tilly and excuse yourself as you walk towards the tent that you're sharing with the other girls. A strained grunt leaves your lips and you stretch your back.

Sitting on that thing all evening and night has fucked with both your back and ass and now you feel as stiff as a catholic nun.

"Goin' to sleep already?"

With a startled noise you turn around to meet a particular pair of blue eyes and you let out an irritated huff. "Can you stop sneaking up to me all the time?"

"Im not sneakin'. It ain't my fault you're so jumpy."

"Sure."

Your discontent doesn't last long. Actually, now that you think about it you never manage to hold a grudge against the outlaw for too long. He doesn't always get on your nerves of course, but when he does the aggravation never stays for longer than half a minute or so.

"Weren't you dancing just now?", you ask and peek over his shoulder to see where he left Mary-Beth.

"Ah, I thought I should stop makin' a fool of myself."

"Well, I thought you looked quite adorable.", you point out, gaining a snort from the outlaw.

Arthur scratches his bearded cheek and nods to himself, looking as if he doesn't know what to say anymore. The same goes for you and you feel like you're going to fall asleep standing so you decide that it would be best to call it a day now.

You break the long stretched silence and motion towards your bedroll. "I should really get some sleep now though."

"Yea, 'course. Well, uh...goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

You shoot him a warm smile and he tips his cowboy hat in your direction before joining the other again.

For some reason you can't shake off the feeling that there was more that he had wanted to tell you.

Taglist: @shackspossum

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 arthur morgan x reader

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