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coltermorning · 2 months ago

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 21 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: In the small town of Ogallala, you and Arthur nurture feelings for each other that become increasingly hard to deny with each passing day and each word spoken.

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one took me so long. I couldn’t get it quite right for weeks, and part of me hates to part with it anyway because I’m getting so close to the end 🥲 Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty-one of this one.

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, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Twenty-One: Love

Word count: 3726

This room was unlike the others. That airy barn had the memory of your childhood home and Beth on it, the last hotel room the sharpness of fear. You’d thought that that room would be the one to stay with you, but you tried to forget it now. Now, there was only this room, the safety in it, and Arthur. Maybe the latter two went hand in hand.

Your eyes found said safety in the growing darkness, watching him reverently in the low light. He’d lit a lamp earlier, and its golden glow reflected in his shining hair, his exposed skin, his gemstone eyes. You would never tire of that gaze. Normally, you found a smirk beneath it, but now his mouth matched his heavy stare—thoughtful and filled with something very close to desperation. It wasn’t difficult to guess why. Love did that to a person.

You had thought there would never be a feeling stronger than grief, stronger than the helpless agony that came with it. But love was the one thing to outweigh it. Rather, requited love was. Feeling wanted again was all your heart needed to stitch itself back together. To be loved was to be needed. And that triumphed grief every time.

You weren’t only thinking of yourself as you studied the man beside you. You thought of him and of how unlikely a match he was for you. But it was beginning to make sense. He, like you, was all wild animal, untamed, worth more than mankind could give. He wasn’t defined by the constructs of a normal personhood just as you weren’t. Neither of you were made for fleeting little relationships, if any at all. And perhaps that’s why it worked so well to be together, the feeling as natural as breathing. Because there were no expectations. He made sure of that, and you were too inexperienced and fond of him to form them. Being with a man emotionally or physically scared you before because it had always seemed confining. But you knew without a doubt that if you chose to go alone to the next town and never look back at this trip and all it brought between you, Arthur would let you. He wouldn’t hesitate. And because of that, he was freeing in a way no one had ever been to you. Not even your parents.

You were so caught up in his gaze and your thoughts that you were startled by the sudden sound of bootsteps opposite the door, flinching in his grasp as deputy badges and blood flashed across your vision.

“Easy,” he said lowly, pulling you in closer on the bed as the sound faded.

“Just…jumpy over the last time that happened.”

“Ain’t no law here to worry about,” Arthur said, stroking your hair.

He was right. And you were again reminded that this hotel room was very different from the last.

“I know,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite convince yourself after having lived through the hell that was the last town. That ringing gunshot that would never leave you be sounded again.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin so you would meet his eyes. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

Those words hit you like a physical blow. His protectiveness made you feel loved, but it was the truth of it that drove his point home. Because you had no doubt he would tear apart the world to keep you safe. Just as you had. You’d broken every moral you had just to keep him from harm. But you would do it all again. And, knowing Arthur, you bet he felt the same thing tenfold.

You smiled against his hand. “I know.” This time, you meant it.

After a moment and a smile so sure you wanted to keep it there forever, Arthur shifted. “Sit up.”

You did as he asked, watching as he reached for his journal. Thinking he meant to draw you again, you blushed. Especially as there was no coat this time, just bare skin between you only partially covered by a blanket at your hips. But to your surprise, he reached for your hair and tugged on that horsehair braid he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of, flattening it so that he could see the contrasting colors better.

“What is it with you and this braid?”

He shifted again so that he was far enough away to get the general picture of you sitting there, though that wasn’t saying much in the tiny bed. He was still close, and you watched his eyes focus in on your braid as he flipped to a blank page and readied his pencil, ignoring your question completely.

Wanting to know what it meant to him, you pushed. “Hard of hearing?”

“I heard you,” he said, still focusing hard on your hair. A few seconds passed as he began drawing. You didn’t think he would answer you until he shook his head, continuing to look down at his journal as he spoke. “I draw things so I don’t forget ‘em. There are a few moments I’ll never forget when it comes to you, but that braid, I want to remember even after it’s gone.”

You were warmed by the sincerity in this, but your curiosity got the better of you. “What moments will you never forget?”

Again, he took a beat to answer. “Looking at your side all bruised and bloody and my shitty attempt at stitches holding it all together. When you said ‘how could you’.”

You’d forgotten that. It had been months, and somehow his words had you remembering how the wagon you’d woken up in after he had stitched you up made your skin crawl. He went on, dispelling any further thought about it.

“The first time you let me touch you. The way you said ‘don’t stop’.”

This one made your heart race. He still pushed on.

“When I killed those wolves and came back in the tent to find you with that look on your face, like you were ready to die. The way you pulled me to you.” He stopped drawing and looked up at you. “That was the first time I felt like you really cared whether I was there or not. The first time you wanted my comfort.”

It was true. It was the first time you’d relied on him in your brokenness, the first time clinging to him felt like healing.

You smiled at him.

He went back to penciling in his journal. “And,” he said, drawing the word out in that drawl of his. “You asked me for that horsehair like it was the last gift you could give that horse. I knew it right then, the kind of woman you was. Thoughtful and tough as hell.”

You’d thought nothing of the act at the time, at least not in the way it would be viewed by Arthur. It was natural. Maybe that was why he admired you for it.

He went on. “I didn’t realize I enjoyed getting to know the woman you was before all this mess until then. Until I thought you would slip away again. But then you came out of that tent with this braid in your hair…”

He stopped and admired it, a smile turning his lips. “And you was still with me. And I was…relieved. Happy, even. That braid shows that strength of yours.”

For the first time since arriving in this town, you felt like crying. But not over any sadness. He had a way with words that surprised you. Your eyes fell to the page, to the way he had drawn part of your braid with such tenderness. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he meant every word.

Unable to voice your thoughts, or perhaps wanting to hold what he’d said in your heart a little longer, you teased him instead. “So, when you drew me in that barn, what were you trying to remember then?”

His smile turned into a smirk, one you were all too familiar with. “How good you looked in my coat.”

His gaze was hot on your skin, growing wanting as he watched you. And in seconds, his journal was pushed aside and forgotten, traded for his want of you, his need to touch you, his desire. To be that desire meant so much to you that your heart pounded a heavy beat in your chest, like it wanted to be loved by him too, craving that closeness.

Falling into him, you granted your heart exactly what it asked for.

The days bled together, and Arthur had no intention of moving on to the next town. As long as you wanted to stay here, he would stay with you. The only bit of business he attended to in the meantime was sending a letter back to the gang, thinking it was likely they’d made it to Denver a while back and would stay until they heard from him. The thought made Arthur smile—that wild bunch on the edges of town, restless and ready to bound out of there at a moment’s notice. They weren’t meant for staying in a big town like that just as he weren’t.

The only trouble with the letter had been what to put in it. Arthur hadn’t known what to say to the group he considered family. He was torn between staying with you and going back to them, knowing either would serve him well. But he was leaning toward staying, starting a life he had only ever dreamed of. Every time he considered it though, it felt too good to be true. It always was when he was younger, and who was he to deserve it now? Had he really changed at all? The truth to that was no, he hadn’t. Maybe he could be decent, but he still had a past on him that he didn’t want catching up to you. But so did you now, killing that deputy. All things considered, he was left feeling even more confused every time he pondered it. So, his letter had been short and nondescript, stating where he was and to write back when and where the gang inevitably moved. He posted the letter and left all thought of it behind him, knowing going in circles about it all wouldn’t do him any good. Instead, he returned to you and vowed to keep his mind on you, on this time you shared together and how right it felt. No matter that, like always, the town and its memories would soon be behind you both.

It wasn’t difficult to keep you in the front of Arthur’s mind. You were a gift, something he didn’t deserve. And all this time spent with you kept him sated like he never had been, his restless heart daring to settle for the first time since he was a boy.

The day had reached its end with the two of you still in bed. Arthur had done exactly what you’d asked of him those days ago, teaching you all the ways he knew how to pleasure a woman. But this was perhaps different, as there never was any meaning behind it until he met you.

Even worse was your blunt curiosity and the things you asked that got him so hard he could hardly see straight. He figured the worst of it was when you’d asked him to teach you how to pleasure him. He was wrong. It was moments ago, when you’d turned to him with a blush on your face and asked if you could ride him. Well, those hadn’t been your exact words, but that was all Arthur could come up with now as you made to do the very thing.

His hands found your hips in seconds upon you climbing on top of him. It took everything in him to be gentle.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” you said in a voice close to a whisper.

He found a lazy grin sneaking its way across his face, for the way your shyness showed, for the way you climbed on top of him anyway. Sure as ever.

“What?” you said upon seeing his smile.

“I like you on top of me,” he said honestly. Because he did. Nothing turned him on more. But he couldn’t go on without teasing you at least a little. “I like you wantin’ to ride me.” He squeezed your hips with his fingers, tugging you closer. Your face went bright red at those words.

“What’s the matter?” he teased.

You kept looking from his eyes to his mouth like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to slap him or kiss him. The smile on your face was timid, but it was blatant as the day was long that he’d called you out and you wouldn’t well deny it.

You wouldn’t meet his eye as you said, “I like it too.”

Arthur’s grin went wide, and he bucked his hips underneath you for good measure. Pure pleasure met him as he did, the movement against your slick like heaven.

You let out a little moan, bracing your hands on his chest as you made to line yourself up with him. He would never tire of the distracted look you got on your face, like his body and what he was doing to yours was all you could think about. It made a pride he could hardly contain take hold.

You reached your hand down and fisted him so gently he couldn’t stand it. That is, until the head of his cock slid into you, and you met his eye and sat completely, making him suck in a sharp breath. He still held your hips with gripping fingers, but it was all he could do not to focus solely on how deep he was buried in you, on moving fast and hard. Instead, he let you set your own pace as you watched him with a heavy gaze, your lips parting when you began to move up and down on him.

It was downright sinful, the feeling it brought him. He pulled you in tighter, moving his hands with your hips. Ignoring all else. He didn’t give a shit what he looked or sounded like, so long as you didn’t stop.

“Arthur?”

He met your eye, only able to do so since your tone had the hint of a question in it. You kept riding him, grating and slow, as you spoke. “I want to- oh…”

You drug the word out, your head falling back in your pleasured state. It was so goddamn arousing Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He held you down against him and bucked upward, hard, making you moan for him as your breasts started bouncing with how fast he moved. Fuck, that did it.

“Want to what?” he gritted out.

You looked downright erotic, your heavy eyes falling over him like sex given form as you answered, “Want to feel your release inside of me.”

Arthur slowed his pace, your words hitting him so hard he knew he would spill inside you anyway if he weren’t careful.

“Ain’t too smart, darlin’.”

“I don’t care.”

In this moment, he didn’t either. He didn’t care about the consequences, even though it would normally bother him after Isaac. If anything, he was in a place to be with you, to raise a child with you if it came to that. So to hell with all his usual fear and regret.

“You sure?” he grimaced, still pumping his cock into you as deep as he could.

“Yes. If you are.”

Surprising himself, he was.

Arthur lifted you up and off of him, needing to do what he’d been wanting to for some time now. Of all the pleasure the two of you had wrought from each other, there was one remaining untried thing Arthur felt was a bit selfish but knew you would get just as much enjoyment out of as he would. And he did that now, turning you so that you remained facing the bed as he crawled behind you.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please…”

“Please what?” Arthur pushed your shoulders down to the bed gently, the head of his cock meeting your slick again. He nearly shook in anticipation.

“Please take me. Hard.”

If that weren’t encouragement enough, Arthur slid into you so deep you tightened around him. “Christ,” he grimaced. Then he moved. And he had to close his eyes and focus hard to keep his release at bay.

Arthur rocked his hips fast, knowing the second he watched how perfectly your bodies met, this would be over. So he focused on you first, on the sounds you made and what you seemed to like best. You moaned the loudest when he gripped your hips again and fucked you harder, so he kept on, letting you feel just how much you affected him as he drove deep.

“Arthur,” you whined, his name so needy on your tongue he almost lost it.

“That’s it,” he said lowly, taking one hand away and moving it around you, his finger coming down on those nerves that made you buck against him.

That really made you cry out. And Arthur felt a pride like none other, a protectiveness and a possessiveness that made him want to spend inside you, make you his. His grip on you tightened as his finger swirled against you.

In seconds, your pleasure rocked through you, making those inner muscles of yours flutter and work against Arthur’s cock. His eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure took over. Then it was all feeling, all you at his mercy, pleading his name like he was actually worthy of this.

For once in his life, Arthur let go of all the control, all the responsibility and sense he held so close. He released it like a breath and took you like a man should take a woman, for the sheer purpose of desire and need and maybe even love. He shuddered then slid home one last time with your name on his lips, spilling inside of you as you continued to come down around him. It was comforting and fitting and so incredibly right that his chest caught at the feeling.

“Yes,” you breathed. “God, yes.”

He wanted to repeat it back to you. But he stayed there silent, finally daring to look down at where you were met. And Christ, was it a sight, almost like he was meant to be there. He rolled his hips, unable to resist wanting to keep his spend deep inside you. It was primal and perhaps idiotic of him, but he couldn’t help it. He already wanted to do it all over again.

You both breathed heavy and refused to separate, caught there in this moment that, if you were lucky, would never have to reach its end.

But end it did, only because your body was giving out. He hadn’t realized how hard he took you until then, until your muscles protested enough to make you begin to fall to the bed. He slid out of you and caught you, letting you down slowly. He rolled you onto your back, meeting your satisfied gaze. “You okay? I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s all I ever wanted. And all I’ll ever want again.”

A smile turned his lips, catching him off guard. He never expected to smile after doing something so reckless, hope filling him where regret normally would.

“Good,” he replied. And you smiled back, the sight a tired thing. He leaned down and kissed you. When he broke away, the look you gave him hit him just as hard as all his arousal had. It was a look of complete trust. Like you’d found a home in him. He never thought he’d see the day a woman looked at him like that.

“Don’t know about you,” you said laboredly, “but I’m spent.”

He chuckled at just how spent he was, not bothering to reply as he wrapped you up in his arms to sleep. Nothing more than a man and the woman he loved, as normal a life as he could have ever imagined.

You and Arthur very much overstayed your welcome in the small town of Ogallala. Both of you mentioned leaving a time or two but could never quite convince yourselves to saddle up and do it. So you stayed, carving out a little life for yourselves filled with the ease of routine.

Eventually though, you could tell money was getting tight when Arthur began choosing dried meat over his preferred canned goods from the general store. It made you guilty enough to know it was time to move on. Maybe your end destination would be as kind to you as this town had been, and you wouldn’t have to worry about ending this precious time together. You hadn’t talked about it, but you were beginning to believe that Arthur would stay with you. So, holding onto that hope, you finally gave in to leaving.

“What, tired of my company?” he’d teased when you brought it up, both of you already at the stables visiting your mounts.

You shot him a look that warned of a swat to the arm but said, “Not even a little.”

That earned you one of those genuine smiles he rarely gave, like your words were healing him stitch by stitch. But he agreed, and the pair of you gathered up and mounted.

You watched the town slowly fall away into the distance as you left it, turning to look at it so many times Arthur laughed at you. “It ain’t going nowhere, you know.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true.”

“That’s what you’re always saying.”

He shot you a smirk that could tear down the world and every forlorn woman in it. How lucky you were that he was yours. You thought of telling him so, of telling him how much you cared for him, but your heart began racing, and the words died on your lips. Instead, you opted to tease him right back—his and your form of endearment. And his resulting happiness made you know that it was just as special to him as saying those three precious words.

_________

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ashs-cardboard-box · 4 months ago

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"Come back to me"

~ Hosea Matthews/Dutch Van Der Linde/Male!Reader (Arthur, John, Tilly, Lenny, Abigail, Jack mention) ~ Fluff, lost/found family (Day 1) ~ Romantic ~ 4.5k words NOT CANON TO THE RDR2 STORYLINE. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Looking back, it had to have been at least fifteen years since you last saw your family. You wondered if they thought you ran off. If you cracked under the pressure of being against the law; of the reality that your life wouldn’t be even remotely close to normal. The majority of you hoped they could forgive you, even if it wasn’t directly your fault. Fifteen years seems like such a long time ago now, but every day felt agonizing for you. Every morning you woke up longing for them again, hoping that somehow, in the big wide world, you’d somehow stumble upon them all again. In the first few years, you hadn’t seen their names in the newspapers, so you stopped looking as hope dwindled.

That one fateful day felt just like any other. The foggy morning of August twenty-third, eighteen-eighty-four. Your beautiful baby girl, Tilly, had crawled up into your tent that night after a particularly nasty nightmare about… you didn’t remember really. Your exhausted brain barely registered the six-year-old girl curled up against your side, snoring worse than Arthur had when he was a boy. Tilly was the most recent “adoptee” of the gang. Supposedly found sobbing her little heart out on the steps of a place of..dubious morals. One of your husbands– not legally, but it was the thought that counted– Dutch, had said she was crying for her mama, but that thought just made your heart clench and you asked him not to divulge further. All you knew was that, just like the boys before her, she needed a home. You had so much love to give and became as much of a father to her as you could, alongside Dutch and Hosea, of course.

Preceding her, was a scruffy boy named John. Oh, how that boy would get into trouble at every twist and turn. It all got a bit fuzzy, remembering exactly how old your kids were when they were taken in, but you knew he was twelve now. Lord knows he wouldn’t stop bragging about how he’ll be a teenager soon.

And, of course, you couldn’t forget Arthur, your eldest. Definitely less of a hassle than John, but put those two together and it’d take all Dutch, Hosea, and you had just to pull them away from each other…again. You were more of a father to Arthur than the other two kids, as he’d known you longer. He was, as much as you hate to admit it, the practice child. He was well into his teens when the ever blossoming gang had found him, right after his father was killed. You could hardly remember all of the times you fought. You and Dutch were just starting to enter your thirties, whilst Hosea was already in his forties. If it weren’t for them, you would’ve left him to starve. You were so…bitter. But now? Now, you get emotional at just the idea of one of your babies getting hurt. You nearly had a heart attack after Arthur’s breakup with…Molly? Missy? You couldn’t remember now.

Managing to worm yourself around the small girl in your bed, you rise to your feet with a lazy yawn. The sun was barely beginning to rise, making the fog seem more dense than it realistically was. Pulling your quilt up over Tilly’s shoulders, you tuck her back in, not wanting to wake her so soon, as you lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Due to the lack of proper resources, everyone had to share a tent. You with your husbands, Dutch and Hosea, and all three kids together in another tent. At first, that thought worried you, terrified they were going to torment one another, but you were soon reassured by the discovery that, when tired enough, they all leave each other alone. Glancing over towards the other two cots, pushed together to make it easier to fit two grown men, a smile crosses your lips as you watch Hosea and Dutch sleep so peacefully. You could hardly resist yourself, sneaking over just to kiss their foreheads as well. Your hand gently pushes Dutch’s hair out of his face, earning a slight scrunch of his nose in his sleep. You usually hated being up so early, but your internal clock refused to let you fall back asleep. Sneaking out of the tent, you internally wince at the feeling of the dewy grass between your toes, immediately locking onto your boots that you’d left by the tent entrance last night. Picking one up, you tip it upside down, repeatedly patting the sole to dump out any hidden scorpions. Satisfied with its emptiness, you slip it on, your union suit pant leg bunching up at the bottom, only to do the same with your second boot. It was like a ritual at this point. Wake up, cautiously get up; careful of anyone in your bed, check up on everyone before debating with your husbands to see who’s making breakfast. Though, Dutch is usually left out..especially after he somehow melted the only pot you had.

Making your way into the kid’s tent, you push the flap open quietly and poke your head in. John was halfway off his bed, somehow turned all the way around with his head dangling off the foot of it, making his face all pink. Arthur had fallen asleep with a book draped over his face, no doubt some Evelyn Miller book Dutch had been yapping about. Slowly, you creep inside, right up to John’s cot. Cramming three beds into one tent was difficult, but you all made it work. It was awkward at first, but putting Tilly between both boys seemed to quell the arguments for the most part. Gently, you pick the boy up from the edge of his bed, readjusting him entirely to lay normally for once, his head resting on his pillow. Reaching down to grab his, disgustingly dirty, wool blanket off the floor and, extremely reluctantly, covering him back up as John curls up happily beneath it. He never let you wash the damn thing, even if you desperately needed to. You could only imagine the horrors that lay inside the fibers. Turning around, you round Tilly’s cot over to Arthur on the opposite side of the tent. Grabbing the book by both the top and bottom, curling your fingers underneath the open pages to prevent them from closing right on Arthur’s face, you lift it up off of him and close it, setting it just beside him instead. Little did you know, as soon as you woke up that morning, you were already being watched by bounty hunters. You, Dutch, Hosea, and young Arthur managed to scrounge up a couple hundred dollar bounties just from petty thievery..except for that one bank robbery somewhere in the newly formed state of Kansas. Greedy bastard, you recall, but that was as far as your memory went, it all blurred so easily since it went by so fast.

You remember leaving the boys and shuffling a bit away from camp to take a leak, but you didn’t even get your buttons undone before you’re ambushed. Someone with a gun to your back, holding you up against him with a hand over your mouth. Someone else making the demands.

Something about wanting you to turn in your family to collect the money from the law? You could hardly focus, the first thing that left your mouth was “me, not them”. Inexperienced, they accepted that…and your myriad of violent threats and expletives as they all but kidnapped you without much of a trace due to the lack of struggle.

It was hard to comprehend how long fifteen years was in retrospect. Everything was changing now. Eighteen-ninety-nine. One year before a whole new century. The years beyond your capture were nothing whatsoever. Endless roaming, searching, running from the law. Ironic. You were originally doubtful to become an outlaw, but after fleeing from your cell, you’d been wanted ever since.

You were doubtful you’d ever make it back home. Afraid that Dutch and Hosea were just distant memories now. You wondered if your kids ever made it past that day. Hopelessness plagued you everywhere you went. At least, that’s how you felt, until you stupidly tripped over someone’s extended leg as they sat on the Valentine train station steps.

“Sorry.” You mumble gruffly, pulled out of your thoughts as you finally pull your gaze from the mud beneath your boots and over to the person you’d so rudely stepped on. It was some rugged looking man, but he seemed familiar somehow. Sandy blonde hair, barely hidden by a hat you can’t seem to properly place. Face covered by a scruffy stubble, sharp features. The man looked surprised to see you, if not oddly elated.

“Y/N?” The man questions, completely disregarding the incident of you tripping on him as he rises to his feet, standing in front of you. He had a few inches on you, that’s for sure. “Do I know you?” You inquire. He seemed a bit dejected at that, but he doesn’t let it deter him. The corner of his mouth turns upwards in a lopsided grin of hardly contained excitement.

Reaching up quickly, he pulls off his hat, holding it to his chest. There’s practically stars in his eyes, fully expecting you to remember who he is. “You kinda look like my son, Arthur...” You mumble, idly scratching at your jaw with a sideways glance towards the train tracks just a few feet away.

Turning back up towards the man, his expression is unreadable. A mixture of sorrow, utter joy, and shock paints his face, whatever that feeling would be called, you weren’t sure. “You still think I’m your son..?” Arthur questions, almost honored that you still thought of him that way.

He never thought he’d see you again after you just vanished. He wanted to be angry with you, to demand answers as to what the hell happened to make you just get up and leave, but he was just relieved you were alive. So much had happened, he didn’t know where to start!

“Arthur?” You echo as your eyes widen. Surely not. This guy is just making a fool out of you, but the longer you stare at him, the more that fuzzy image of that twenty-one year old Arthur returns to your memory. The chip in his tooth, the scar on his chin, the little divot in the tip of his nose…you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Your first reaction is to hug your son as tightly as you possibly can, subsequently squishing his hat between both of your chests. He was alive! Your son was alive! He looked so much older now, it was hard to believe. The burden of the knowledge that you’d missed out on a good chunk of his life was almost unbearable. You didn’t even want to imagine if everyone else was still alive.

To feel Arthur’s arm around you, albeit slightly hesitant and much more tense, it was like a weight was just ripped right off your chest. You could feel Arthur’s heartbeat against your throat as you rested your chin atop his left shoulder, pounding almost as fast as your own.

But he’s the first to pull away, as a young-looking black man approaches him, waving a letter at him with a quirked eyebrow, clearly stunned to see Arthur hugging some strange old man. “Lenny.” Arthur clears his throat, patting you on the shoulder with one hand, setting his hat back atop his head with the other as he turns to face this Lenny fella.

“You ‘member Dutch and Hosea talkin’ ‘bout that old lover they had a ways back?” Lenny nods, shock and amusement crossing his features. Arthur gestures vaguely towards you that Lenny’s eyes follow.

“You’re Y/N?” He questions, to which you nod, extending your right hand to be shaken. Lenny quickly switches the letters from his right hand to his left to shake your hand properly. It’s firm and polite, clearly holding immense respect for you, despite being near strangers.

But, you can hardly grapple with the idea of meeting someone new as your mind circles back to what Arthur had said. “Dutch and Hosea?” You prompt curiously, almost worried, earning an amused chuckle from both men.

“Yeah? Who else?” Lenny asks, releasing your hand and handing the letters off to Arthur. You don’t bother to ask. “I meant- they’re still.. y’know.. alive, I guess…” You clarify awkwardly, glancing towards your son, watching Arthur rifle through the letters in hand.

“I don’t think even they could kill one another, much less something else entirely.” Arthur remarks, sidestepping to allow Lenny to walk past, headed for a large wagon just behind the train station.

This was the most excited you’d felt..ever, really. You can’t help the grin that overtakes your face. Your lips parting to ask another question, but Arthur beats you to it as he makes eye contact with you again.

“Yes, John ‘n lil’ Tilly are alive too. Yes, We’ll take you to ‘em.”

You nod eagerly, like a schoolboy being given the sweetest candy he could ever ask for. Only, this was his family finally being returned to him. You felt like you couldn’t get back to your horse quick enough. Nearly running into people as you quickly walked back to it, your eyes zeroing in on it hitched at the rundown saloon.

Ignoring the insults hurled your way for pushing people out of your path, you force yourself to calm down long enough to mount your horse, not wanting to startle it. Pulling the reins up off the hitch rail, pushing your boot into the stirrup and slinging your bodyweight up to the other side of your saddle.

Pressing your heels into its flanks as you pull the reins to the right, forcing your horse to turn around, riding right back up to Arthur and that new boy, Lenny. He seems young, must’ve been tagging along with Arthur, you guess.

Riding alongside the wagon on the right side, you have to force yourself to maintain focus on the obstacles ahead and not stare at your son as he drives the wagon. It’s hard to believe. He’d grown up so much, you thought you’d end up finding his grave some day without being given a chance to say goodbye. The idea sends a shiver down your spine and bile rising in your throat.

The ride back to where your family had gathered felt like an eternity. Fifteen additional years just to make it back. The sun was already beginning to set, the shadows elongated on the ground. You were antsy on your saddle, you barely noticed when you finally came to a stop, with Arthur telling Lenny to run on ahead and warn the gang and to leave him to situate the wagon.

Watching Arthur guide you into a small clearing between the trees, the wheels on the wagon creaking in the mud. You can hear several voices just ahead, some louder than others, you can pick up two very distinct voices, more frantic than the rest. You barely make it four feet into the camp before you dismount your horse, trusting Arthur to take care of it. Your eyes locking onto the distinct features of your husbands, right next to Lenny.

They seem much older now. Dutch took your advice and finally grew out his mustache, Hosea’s blonde hair had gone gray. Much older than you remembered, but you hardly cared. You were sure you looked older and more worn as well. Your feet carry you through the grass before you knew what was going on.

In an instant, you’re standing in front of Dutch and Hosea. Hosea’s shaking hands reach out to cup your cheeks. The touch is so familiar, yet so foreign. It makes your eyes water as you lean into his touch. “Darlin’?” Dutch chokes out, taking your hands into his own. His thumbs feeling over your bony knuckles, the skin getting tougher there over the years. You were never very violent before, but you were forced to after being on the run for so long. All Dutch wanted to do was protect you, but he’d never, ever admit that.

“Is that really you? What- Where have you been..?” He prompts, his brow furrowing. Letting go of your hand, he gently pulls one of Hosea’s hands off of your cheek, replacing it with his own.

“It’s..a long story…” You chuckle sheepishly as your tears begin to fall against your will. How long had it been since you’d felt like this? So full, so complete, so happy?

Straightening up, you press a kiss to Hosea’s lips, earning a slight gasp, before he leans into you. His bony thumb swiping against your cheekbone, against the wet track left in its place. “I missed you, sweetheart…” You whisper as you break the kiss. Hosea presses his forehead against your own, not wanting to pull away from you whatsoever.

But, not wanting to leave out your other husband, you press a kiss to Dutch’s lips next. He’s much more rough. Moving his hands down and grasping at your shirt tightly. He hates feeling so vulnerable, he always has, but he can’t hold back after seeing you again.

Hardly even registering Hosea as he shifts to stand behind you, hugging you close. Your mind flickered to a stray thought about people getting confused seeing their gang leaders embracing some strange man, but none of them have the courage to speak up at the moment, letting the trio have their moment.

Parting with an inhale, Dutch rests his head against your shoulder. Your hands moving down to rest on his hips, holding him close as you lean back against Hosea. “Where were you..?” Hosea repeats Dutch’s question, much, much quieter this time. His face nestled in your neck, feeling like he couldn’t get enough of you. They felt damn near tears themselves, selfishly clinging to you entirely. Sandwiching you between both of their bodies, absorbing their oh-so-familiar body heat.

“Bounty hunters.” You confess in a mumble. It sounded so silly out loud. Fifteen years of loneliness all because of money? But, Dutch and Hosea seemed to understand completely. Dutch’s hold tightens on your torso and Hosea pulls you further back against his chest, as if closer were any more possible without any gaps between them. “I- I thought y’all died or got arrested or somethin’..”

“No, darlin’. We ain’t dead.” Dutch chuckles, pressing a kiss to your pulsepoint, as if worshiping your very lifeforce. “We’re thriving.” He boasts as he lifts his head, a grin crossing his face. Though his remark ears him a scolding tug on the ear from Hosea behind you. “But–” He adds, glaring at Dutch as if warning him not to say anything further about the gang. “We still missed you, sweetpea. It’s been hard without you.”

“R-Right.. Of course.” Dutch agrees with a nod. Sniffling as he leans down and presses another peck to your lips. “Of course we missed you.”

You felt simultaneously overwhelmed, yet so happy. You felt like you could ramble on and on and on about how much you missed your husbands, how lucky you were to be back with them, how you hated what happened, but you’re pulled out of your thoughts by Arthur walking right up to you, another man in tow.

“Ah, John, my boy!” Dutch grins, removing his hands from you as he walks right up to John, setting a hand on his shoulder, he guides him right up to you as Hosea lazily drapes an arm over your shoulders, holding you close.

John looks so much more different than his twelve year old self. Scars adore the right side of his face, breaking up his coarse beard hair. His hair is longer now, but still as greasy as ever. Mentally, you roll your eyes, wishing you’d forced him to wash more as a boy.

“Pa..?” John asks quietly, chuckling as he shrugs off Dutch’s hand and steps past Arthur, pulling you into a tight hug. Usually, he’s never this affectionate, but he couldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t miss you. You barely have enough time to compose yourself from your first breakdown before even more tears come spilling down your cheeks.

Wrapping your arms around John tightly, your fingers clasping around the back of his shirt. “Johnny…” You breathe, clinging to your son as if he were going to slip away again. He was a man now, and that thought filled you with guilt. You weren’t there. Your kids grew up without you. You missed their first robberies. You missed teaching them to shoot. You missed teaching them to read and write. You missed Tilly’s–

“Where’s Tilly..?” The words leave your mouth before you could stop them. John gently lets go of you, following the many eyes darting across camp in search of the young woman. “She’s prolly doin’ laundry.” Arthur mutters under his breath, craning his neck to look at the opposite side of camp.

“Tilly Jackson!” Dutch bellows. You nearly jump out of your skin, not at all expecting your husband to just shout for someone. But, Hosea’s arm curled around your waist grounds you again.

You watch as Tilly scurries from, what you can assume is her tent, upon hearing the gang leader call for her. Her hands politely smoothing out her dress, her eyes flicking around in confusion until they finally meet your own watery ones.

“B-Baby girl…” You choke out, opening your arms for a hug as you offer a wobbly smile. She looks like a proper woman now. She’s practically giddy to hug you back, holding you tightly. You missed her entire life. She was only a girl when you left. You felt sick to your stomach as that mindset continues to spiral with each hug from your family.

“You- You remember me… don’t you?” You mumble, pulling back reluctantly to peer into her eyes, almost begging her to have remembered you. To your surprise, she nods, a smile on her face.

“I remember you, Y/N! Dutch and Hosea talk ‘bout you all the time. Even if I didn’t, it’d be hard not to know you!” She laughs, her hands moving up to rest on your biceps, to which you copy her movement, reluctant to part. A tightlipped, solemn grin spreads across your lips, right before it falters.

“I’m so sorry, Tilly..” You sob. Removing your hands from your daughter’s arms, they move up to wipe away the tears relentlessly streaming down your face. You felt guilt. You should’ve fought harder to stay with your family, rather than abandoning them without a trace. Though, you could feel a warmth in your chest from the smile on everyone’s faces.

Hosea pulls you close again, wrapping you in a gentle hug as you rest your head on his chest. He presses a loving kiss to your forehead, just as Dutch gets the hint and shuffles back over, pulling both you and Hosea into another tight hug.

No words need to be shared, just pure love. Heart-to-heart. Ignoring most of everyone else in the gang for now. You only remembered your close family, and the new boy you met.. Lemmy, you think? Something like that.

“You two raised them so well.” You whisper your praise into Hosea’s chest. His breathing was much more wheezy than you would’ve liked, but there wasn’t much you could do other than love on your husbands as much as you possibly could.

“They remembered you.” Hosea whispers into your hair, and you feel Dutch’s chest vibrate against your back as he hums with agreement. “You taught them first.” Dutch adds, soothingly rubbing his hands up and down your sides. Down to your hips, up to your ribs, and back down again.

“John Marston!” A woman barks, causing you to falter for a moment. Sniffling as you pull away from Hosea just enough to wipe your eyes again. Watching as John huffs and turns to stare at the woman, un-amusement plastered on his features.

The woman pauses in her step for a moment, a small boy in tow, as she spots you in the middle of a cuddle pile between the gang leaders. “Y/N.” Dutch clarifies briefly, causing a spark of recognition to flash in her gaze. Forgetting about her lecture to John, she approaches you instead.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from these two.” She confesses, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. “My name’s Abigail. I’m John’s wife.” Abigail introduces. Dutch and Hosea relieve you from their hug long enough for you to offer her your hand to shake, to which she accepts. Though, you’re more curious about the boy behind her, clinging to his mother’s dress.

“Oh! That’s our son, Jack.” She explains calmly, letting go of your hand and gently coaxing her son out from behind her to meet you. A friendly smile flashes across your features as you squat down to meet Jack’s eyes. Though, as Abigail’s words register in your head, your eyes widen as you look up towards John, then to Dutch and Hosea once again.

“We have a grandson..?” You gasp, earning a chuckle and a nod. Technically, Jack wasn’t your grandson by blood, but to you, John was your boy, and that meant Jack was your family too. Looking back towards the boy, you can practically pick out John’s features in him. Their noses are the same, rounder cheeks like John had as a kid, sharper chin.

“Hey, kiddo. My name is Y/N” You greet politely. “Hi.” Jack mumbles. You didn’t expect the boy to know who you were, but you felt so happy, yet so god damn old, seeing Jack standing shyly in front of you.

Shifting slightly on your knees, you dig into the pocket of your pants, pulling out two quarters. “Here.” You offer, holding them out for Jack, to which he excitedly holds both of his little hands out for your gift.

“Go wild, kid.” You chuckle with a quiet sniffle, not exactly wanting to show that you’d been weeping like a baby. “Thanks!” Jack beams, almost immediately running off from Abigail, yammering about how much candy he’s gonna buy.

Standing back up, your knees pop with the effort, definitely getting too damn old for the outlaw shit. You weren’t sure when Tilly, John, and Arthur left, you guessed they had things to do other than watch their father figures be all sweet on one another. Almost instantly, you feel Dutch and Hosea’s arms wrap back around you. Hosea in front of you, with Dutch’s chest against your back. You melt into the hug completely, just wanting to relax a bit after an eventful day.

“Why don’t you let us catch you up?” Hosea suggests, tilting his head slightly to look into your eyes. “Just like old times, over some fine whiskey.. Maybe get some food in you.” Dutch’s contribution seemed less like a suggestion, more like a demand to make sure you weren’t going hungry on his watch.

“I’d like that.” You accept, relaxing into your husbands’ warmth between their bodies as the sun finally sets. Holding one another beneath the stars, keeping each other safe, knowing nothing could happen to any of you ever again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Return to masterlist

#rdr2 x male reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #hosea matthews x male reader #rdr2 fanfic #Dutch Van Der Linde #Dutch Van Der Linde x reader #Hosea Matthews x reader

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maeedrg · 3 months ago

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Satoru, Oh Satoru

Y/n’s goodbye letter

ᯓ★

Synopsis : In which you write and send a letter to your ex fiance, Gojo Satoru, before his deathly battle with Sukuna. Broken promise, he wishes to see you again, the love of his life, one last time before it’s too late. [The letter is the Mary’s goodbye letter to Arthur Morgan from RDR2]

Words count : 2k

Warnings : heavy angst, slight comfort, major character death, spoilers of the end of the manga, reader is called « wife » once.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I love Red Dead Redemption 2, and the letter of Mary is haunting me. It’s been weeks since I wanted to write about it, so here we go, with Gojo instead of Arthur Morgan ! English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes.

“My dear Satoru,

You never showed up, and now, after looking at the newspapers I understand why. I don't imagine you will receive this letter but I nonetheless must send it.

Satoru, oh, Satoru. I was just starting to dream the silliest and softest of dreams. I miss you, and I will always miss you but I cannot live like that, and it seems you cannot live any other way.

When I am with you, the world makes sense but when we are apart, I see clearly that your world is not a world from which one can escape. I am so sorry, for everything, for everything long ago and for leaving you. There's a vulnerable man within you, Satoru, but he is wrestling with a giant. And the giant, wins, time and again. You've broken my heart, again, and I fear I have broken yours.

For that, I will never forgive myself but you must let me go now. I enclose a ring you gave me many years ago, when we were both young, not because I don't like it, but because I care for it far too much and it reminds me too much of you. I hope, one day you will find some people in love who can use this, for it kept me thinking of you all these years, and I hope by returning it to you I can finally be free. So please, win, and come out alive.

Goodbye.

y/n”

Are those water drops ?

Satoru blinks once, twice, before realizing that tears roll down his rosy cheeks and wet down the paper. He slowly opens his mouth in a shuddering breath, knuckles tightening against the letter he was holding in his hands. He is crying, Gojo Satoru is crying. Heavens know that this man almost never cried since the day he was born. But the way his heart was hurting so much, each breath being a stabbing inhale, as if a dag was slicing open his lungs and cutting into pieces his poor sweet damaged heart, confirm it. Yes, he cries. He cries this forgotten moment, he cries you, he cries your love, lost in the nostalgia he feels.

The Strongest, no, Satoru, never thought he would lose the love of his life twice. The first time was when you left him years ago, three more exactly, and God it was his own damn fault. He knows it more than anyone else, more than you.

The second was today, when he opened this letter you sent him and read it 5, 6, 12, 23 times. Hell, at first he thought he was hallucinating when he received it this morning. Why ? Why today ? The day he was supposed to have no single regrets, because he knew it would be the last time he would be on earth. He prayed that you forgot about him, hated him, cursed him in your soul forever, so he could die without your and any regrets.

23rd of December. Tomorrow, it will be the 24th. Please, please, please. He doesn’t want to die now. Will he really win ? That was just a sentence said to reassure himself, to convince his students and his own heart that everything will be alright. But the “what if” came along, and he ended up writing letters to his students in case he would indeed lose tomorrow. Including you. His long lost love. His ex fiance.

But for fuck’s sake, he didn’t expect you to send him one before he could even finish writing yours.

That hurts, so damn much. Was he even breathing anymore ? He didn’t know. But he had to breathe, everyone wanted him to breathe and to stand up. They needed him. Everyone needed him. But all he wanted, in the end, was for you to need him. Even if he told you the contrary years ago. That was all a lie, to you and himself. Satoru made you leave him, but that was for your sake.

Marrying The Strongest meant having a deadly bounty on your head, the end of your peaceful love, and maybe the end of your own life. He never really regretted what he did, he preferred for you to be safe and sound, away from him. Even if he missed your pretty eyes, your oh so sweet lips, the warmth of your soul and the comfort of your arms.

But now, some hours before his last day on earth, he regretted it more than anything. In the end, he would have wanted to spend his last years in your company if it meant having this kind of death. God, he could have called you his wife. He wasn’t dumb, Satoru was far too smart for his own good. Tomorrow will be his last. There was no need to be delusional about it, but it hurts. It hurts so much. More than he wanted it to be. The Strongest never gets hurt, after all. Because he doesn’t allow it to happen.

He kisses the ring, the engagement ring, he gave you years ago before you returned it to him in this letter. He slowly closes his watery eyes, biting the inside of his mouth, lost in thoughts. He wanted to feel your lips against his one last time. He wanted to be in your arms one last time. He wanted to hear your name coming out of your mouth one last time. He just wanted to see you, before his battle against Sukuna. Was he egoistical to want that, after everything that happened in between the two of you, after the letter you sent ?

“I just… don’t care anymore,” he muttered, standing back up and softly sliding your letter against his still beating heart.

Seeing you was his last wish. May it be granted.

Some minutes after, barely 20, he was in front of your door. It was an unholy hour to grant you a visit, the clock ticking 11.58 PM. In two minutes it would be his official last hours on earth, Christmas Day. If Santa Claus was real, then you were the biggest gift he could ask for.

The moment you open your door, sleepy eyes, greasy pajamas, and then face distorting in utter disbelief when staring at your ex fiance standing right in front of you, time stops. Satoru couldn’t believe his own eyes. His Six eyes were useless, his soul was already screaming to him that the person in front of him was the love of his life.

“Satoru… ?” you whisper, unable to know if you were dreaming, or not. He died a little when he finally heard his name slipping out of your lips after so many years.

You can’t even utter another word, that his large frame is on you. His strong arms wrap around your body, cradling you in the depth of his chest and undying love for you. He inhales, you smell the same as he remembers. Oh, sweet Lord, how he missed this. He felt his heart beating again, his lungs working finally normally, he was breathing. Yes, he was breathing. Thanks to you. He never felt more alive in this moment. What a duality. A cruel duality.

“I did read your letter. Let me say my goodbyes to you too, y/n. One last time, I beg you,” he murmurs in the crook of your neck. Gojo Satoru never begs. Yet, here he was, ready to go on his knees like he did when he proposed to you, to implore one last blessing moment in your presence.

Your feelings were conflicted, you were in the arms of the man that broke your heart, and from whom you just made your goodbyes. Maybe that was mean of you, to send this letter the day before his battle against Sukuna. When you saw it on the news, you understood that it would be maybe your last time being able to reach to him. You told him what you needed to say. For you, that was final. But one thing that you didn’t take accountability for, was his soul wrenching love for you. And, in this small moment of peace before war, you decided to indulge in his vulnerability, no, yours. Wait, both of you were more vulnerable than you could ever be again.

“Satoru.”

“I missed you,” he whispers as he slowly lift his head, blue glossy eyes meeting yours intimately. Tears, rolling down. You couldn't fathom it.

“I’m so, so, oh so sorry. Do you forgive me for breaking your heart ?” His voice is like a whimper, and you feel a part of your soul breaking at his pleading. Your lips quiver.

“Yes, Satoru. And do you forgive me too for breaking yours ?”

“I never resented you,” he closes his eyes saying that, leaning his forehead against yours. That was unspoken, but you understood the depth of his words. After all, you knew him better than anyone else. He made you leave him, on purpose, and you were aware why he did that. You indeed left, he watched you doing it, unable to stop this tragedy from happening, because you both knew that marrying each other would have been probably the biggest dream and nightmare of your life. You both broke each other's hearts that day.

“I never did too,” you answer, closing your eyes.

“I love you, you know that, right ? Always did."

“I love you, Satoru. I know that you do. And…” you both open back your eyes at the same time, “I realize that loving you was my greatest curse, but your eyes grant me mercy. In them I see the salvation of my soul, but I know that your heart has already cursed me,” you finish in a breath coming from the depth of your being.

Two tears roll down at your answer. One from your eye, one from his. He sniffs, unable to suppress his emotions, and then slowly take out of his pocket two objects. First, a letter, bigger than the one you wrote him. It was unfinished, he didn’t have the time to. He softly puts it in the crook of your hand.

“Read it if I’m gone, if I’m not, then give it back to me in person," he asks you, his pearly white lashes getting wet from the tears in his eyes. You both knew deep in your hearts that you would never be able to give it back to him. Yet, you force a smile on your face.

“I promise.”

The second object, was your engagement ring. Satoru knew it was oh so egoistical of him to give it back, when you send it attached to the letter this morning. He refused to keep it. He still had his on his finger, he wanted you to keep it too.

You said in your letter that you refused to keep it anymore because you cared for it far too much and it reminded you too much of him. Satoru wanted you to remember him. He was sure that when he will die, people would forget about him, and move on. He came to accept that fact. People only cared about the farthest and the greatest grand Gojo Satoru, The Strongest. Once death would take this title from him, he would have nothing left, aside from you.

“Only you can carry my love. Never forget that. You said that you hope by returning it to me you can finally be free. For my christmas gift, let me take your freedom,” he pleads, no, begs. His hand was shaking as he gently slid back the ring on your finger, it was his ultimate wish.

A sob escapes your lips. You cursed him for doing that to you. But how could you be mad, when granting the death wish of your long lost fiance ? You look back at the shiny ring, and remember how you blessed Heavens the day he proposed to you. It hurts to know that you never had the chance to call him your husband. Your love was doomed from the beginning. The world was cruel, so cruel.

“I’ll feel alive as long as I’m in your heart, may you never forget me,” he finishes, tangling his fingers in yours.

His left hand cradles your cheek, and you slowly lean towards him. His lips melt against yours, in this final goodbye, last kiss, last shared moment, heart to heart beating in sync. Your souls intertwined, and Satoru wished he could just die right now in your arms, in the sweetness of your lips and warmth of your love.

“In another life, Satoru. In another life we’ll marry and love each other how we wanted to, just not in this one,” you whisper like a secret to the world against his lips. He smiles through the tears.

“I’ll gladly die with a smile, now.” At least he could die the same day as Geto Suguru, one year after him, joining him in death. At least he could die knowing you loved him no matter what. At least he could die knowing that in his next life he could be by your side, again.

You never forgot him. You kept the ring on your finger, until your last breath and till death do you part. It did.

THE END

#gojo x reader #jjk #rdr2 #gojo x you #gojo angst #gojo satoru #x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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fridayednoon · 2 months ago

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who said outlaw au

cringe train was due. pretty rdr2 inspired. my thoughts.

Ukai is the leader of the gang but it's somewhat recent, following retirement of his grandfather. Daichi is either a self proclaimed or appointed second in command of sorts but whether that makes rowdier gang members (ie. noya and tanaka) actually listen to him before getting into trouble is debatable.

Noya + Daichi joined at young ages, Daichi being an orphan taken in by the Ukais & Noya being a runaway. I like it when they have a kinda brotherly dynamic so thats what's happening here. Everyone else joined around their 20s/late teens.

Rival Gang Nekoma. I'll get to that.

Saeko's outfit is inspired by saloon girls, Kiyoko's is just a typical 1890s dress.

I like to think Asahi and Noya are like in canon very established members of the gang themselves. Asahi being strong + intimidating, Noya quick + confident makes them big assets on any job. Thinking about them and teamwork does something to me.

Does Asahi like hurting people. No. Does he like the family aspect of the gang + personal freedom aspirations. Yes. So he just tries his best to be more intimidating than violent.

Noya has less worries about hurting people.

#haikyuu #hq #asahi azumane #asanoya #nishinoya yuu #hq au #kiyoko shimizu #daichi sawamura #ukai keishin #tanaka saeko #id add kuroo but he's a speck #anyway #looking forward to add onto this one...#maybe add in some cats. lets see

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eowynstwin · 6 months ago

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Hi everyone. It's been a while—exactly a month since I last posted to this blog. How have you been?

A month isn't really all that long, but it's enough time to be able to look at everything that happened and understand it better. In the end, the whole situation (I've been calling it The Fuckening in my head) really didn't have anything to do with me. I was unlucky enough to run across someone willing to hurt anyone they could for attention, but also lucky enough that everyone who mattered to me in this fandom went to bat for me.

So I’ve decided to come back to this blog. I'll be posting about call of duty again as well as posting my writing. I also plan to blog about other fandoms (I’d already been doing it anyway); I've been getting back into rdr2, for example, and there's some writing I'd like to do for that.

There’s more context which I’ll put below the cut, but that’s the most important part of what I have to say; I often regret how long winded I can be, so the rest is just self indulgence if you can forgive it. I’ve thought a lot about this choice and I’m satisfied with my decision. I hope none of you will mind.

So, lol, things were not great outside of fandom stuff when it all kicked off, though I didn’t mention it publicly because we all know by now that asking for any sympathy when you’re the target of a mob is more likely to just get you raked over the coals harder. I’m still not entirely sure about talking about all of this, but I have a bad tendency to clam up when I really should be asking for support. So:

I mentioned briefly before the accusations started flying that I was dealing with bedbugs—turns out it was actually something else, but leading up to a doctor’s visit I was convinced I had an infestation, and I was stripping my bed every day to look for them. I had alarms set to wake me up twice a night to see if I could catch them, so I was not sleeping all that well. I couldn’t find anything, but I had no other explanation, and it was driving me fucking crazy. Post doctor visit it turns out I had a viral infection. No idea where I caught it, and nothing to do but wait it out. I had a massive, gnarly looking rash all over my body, and to add insult to injury I developed a fever that took me out for a whole weekend. (I’m recovered now but I have a nifty new scar on my hip from getting a biopsy.)

Next to that, I was having some PTSD flareups of my own. This was (mostly) unrelated to The Fuckening. Now, I understand that that might be hard to believe, given “Myka’s” claims, and I can’t make you believe me. Nor will I provide details to convince you, other than to say there were some things going on in my neighborhood that recalled a period of time in my life that was extremely unstable, and I found myself irrationally terrified to go home every day. For those of you who don’t experience the symptoms of PTSD, I think it’s appropriate to note that it isn’t just emotional turmoil; I, personally, experience physical pain in my entire body that lingers for hours, days, or even weeks after being triggered. (Everything regarding this, too, is fine now. I have a great therapist and a supportive family.)

All of this to say, I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally when I decided to leave this blog and fandom. And I regretted the decision almost instantly.

However, I didn’t want to let grief make any decisions for me, and also I was still VERY scared Myka was going to hunt down my personal information and either dox or harass me elsewhere. I think this fear was justified; it has happened to other writers in this fandom before.* So I decided to take some time to cool off and watch the situation develop without me.

I don’t think I need to get into the details—although if you’re interested in them, @fulltacs has been keeping track of the drama. Given the most recent development with the four obviously sock puppet blogs that popped up and immediately began stirring shit up again, I realized Myka probably would have done what she did with or without me. I just so happened to give her the ammunition she needed to do something REALLY big. It was pure bad luck.

(Also—and I’m sorry if this is just stirring the pot, but after everything they did to me I feel I deserve to make the accusation—I’ve suspected for a while that the two loudest blogs leading the witch hunt against me were far more involved in this farce than anyone has assumed. I have no proof and I do not want anyone to do anything about it on my behalf, leave them the fuck alone. But I will not forget the distress they caused me for a long fucking time, and the only way for me to let this go is to say my piece. So there. Done. Let that be the end of it.)

Having this hindsight, I feel comfortable coming back. I’m still very touched by everyone’s support, which in the end was louder than the harassment. I also think it’s important for people who care about fighting racism in any community not to run at the first sign of trouble, which I did, and I feel pretty sorry for.

That’s the gist of things. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for doing so!

*I was going to add a paragraph about halfmoth-halfman’s situation but decided against it. For one thing, she wants to be left alone, and for another, talking about the experiences of fans of color, particularly black fans, deserves its own post separate from my white experience, if I should even post about it at all.

#state of the knee brace #the fuckening

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famesau · 2 months ago

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How The RDR2 Boys Kiss You

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Finally posting part two, sorry for the late post! This one is John and Dutch, both in the earlier chapters. This will probably be my last part of this little series but I have another Kieran fic in the works so sit tight.

Dutch Van Der Linde

Hand kisses

Joining the Van Der Linde gang came with many surprises, Dutch's interest in you being one of them. To you, his interest came out of nowhere. At first, he was kind to you, sharing his endless wisdom with you like he did with the others. Taking time to inform you about how things in the gang worked too. But once everyone began to trust you, his interest in you grew. His kindness now seemed a little more romantic. His touch and gaze would linger on you far longer than it should. He'd interrupt your reading or chores to talk with you. You didn't read too deep into it; you just took it as him trying to make you feel comfortable. But it was hard not to notice his weirdly romantic behavior towards you. The little nicknames he called you when you both were alone. The way he found any reason to have you near him. It was surprising, to say the least, but you couldn't deny how nice it felt.

//////

It was night and all the camp members were hanging around the campfire, singing songs and having a drink or 6. Dutch had his music playing loudly which made a few other members get up and dance, all except for you. You had no interest in engaging in any sort of thing tonight. You felt yourself growing tired so you decided to turn in. You shifted past the gang members, saying goodnight and trying not to get roped into a song. It was successful up until you passed Dutch’s tent.

“Woe! Where’d do you think you’re going hm?”

He asked with a cheerful shout. He took a long drag from his cigar and puffed the smoke in your direction. The all-too-familiar musk filled your lungs, making you cough before you spoke.

“Just heading to bed.”

“Why’s that? You outta enjoy yourself like everyone else! C’mon and dance with me.”

He suggested, extending his hand towards you with a smile. He always encouraged others to enjoy themselves, especially after a good day's work. His encouragement always seemed to work, even now. You were tired but seeing how upbeat he was, you couldn't say no to him. So with a small smile, you laugh and nod your head, extending your hand towards his and resting it in his hands. His palm was rough but he held your hand with utmost care. His grin grew when you agreed to dance with him. One song couldn't hurt, you thought to yourself as he pulled you closer to him. He quickly finished his cigar so he could focus on dancing with you. He kept holding your hand and placed his other hand gently on your lower back. You lifted your hand and placed it on his shoulder. Being this close to him you could smell a mixture of lavender and vanilla. He took pride in his appearance and hygiene, that much was obvious to anyone. His scent was borderline intoxicating but you soon grew accustomed to it. When you both were ready, Dutch took the lead and started to dance. He used his hand on your lower back to guide you to the song, teaching you the steps without words. It didn’t take long for you to figure out the steps thanks to Dutch’s patience. Once you had them down you loosened up and moved more freely with him. A smile grew on his face as he picked up your enjoyment. His grip loosened slightly on you and he started to move freely too. You were still tired but that feeling of joy you felt while dancing with him overpowered that feeling. You smiled cheerfully at him and he returned the smile. As the song continued your joy only grew. He was a little more relaxed than you but he loved seeing how happy you looked.

It didn't take long for one song to turn to 2 then 4. You become unaware of the feeling of tiredness, with all the dancing and laughs you both shared you didn't care about heading to bed just yet. Your sluggish movements turned to confident dancing. The confidence in your steps grew thanks to Dutch's praises. Hearing him say “There you go!”, “You're great at this!” And much more made you not want to stop. The grin he had at the start of this was still plastered on his features. It was like he was two different people. When he was out on jobs he was hard and stoic, but now, he was far from that. The gaze in his eyes was soft and playful, his hardy laugh boomed out of his chest every once and again, and his hands happily held you when he dipped your body mid-song. Though this moment was a new and thrilling experience for you, even you had your limits.

After god knows how many songs played you finally felt your body tell you it's time to stop. Your feet ache and your legs tingle, a small sweat was on your brightened face but you couldn't care less. Slowly you began to stop dancing and he did the same.

“You sure are full of surprises hah!”

He shouted, pulling his hand from your lower back but still holding your hand. A small flush of red grazed your cheeks. You didn’t expect to let yourself go like that but you needed it. Everyone needs a moment to just enjoy themselves and this was your moment.

“Guess I needed that heh…Thank you Dutch. I enjoyed that.”

You said softly. A little embarrassed but overall happy. You were glad you took his offer to dance, it was the perfect way to end the night. You went to pull your hand away from him but his grip stopped you. It wasn’t enough to hurt you but enough to stop you. He then pulled you closer to you, bringing your hand up to his mouth. Giving the back of your hand a small yet tender kiss. The feeling of his rough lips and mustache against your hand felt slightly ticklish but his gesture was sweet. His eyes never left you and vice versa. The red glow on your cheeks grew a shade darker from the kiss. After he pulled his lips away he continued to hold your hand in his, placing his other hand on top of yours.

“It was a pleasure, to share this dance with you. We should do it more often.”

You took a short pause to process what just happened. When he said that his voice was sultry and sweet. His gaze was soft and entrancing as he danced with you and even now. Something about him was drawing you in and you couldn’t or more so didn’t, want to fight it.

“I uh…I’d like that.”

You responded in a faint whisper but loud enough for him to hear. Hearing your agreement made his smirk grow wider. He was very pleased with your answer. He brought your hand once more up to his lips and gave it another kiss, that same tingling feeling from before filling our being. Now he let your hand go, resting his hands on his hips while your hand retreated and rested on your chest. He stared at you for a brief moment, eyeing you up and down before a husky chuckle left his lips.

“Well you best get some sleep, got a long day t’morrow.”

He said, still letting his eyes wander your face and body. You just nodded and left his side to go lie down. His advances never affected you but dancing with him and that damn kiss had you feeling like you were floating. As you finally went to lay down you found the memories of dancing with him and the sensation in his lips on your hand keeping you up. Part of you didn't want to think too much about it but another part of you secretly enjoyed that experience far more than you'd like to admit

John Marston

Gentle kisses

You and everyone else knew John wasn't the most romantic person. When you and him started dating you knew what you signed up for, a reckless idiot but an idiot you sure did love. He'd never asked you this but he always wondered what you saw in him, what about him made you of all folk want him? It confused him. Instead of asking you like a normal person would, he is distant, always out on missions trying to distract him from his many conflicting thoughts. But he'd be a fool if he didn't admit he loved you too. He just wasn't good at showing it. You'd often hear Arthur scowl him for acting the way he did when it came to you but it was pointless most times. John was hardheaded and stubborn yet you still stuck with him. You were patient with him, which confused him but he appreciated it.

Today was like any other day for you, tending to chores, and enjoying your day by investing in personal hobbies to pass the time. As you expected John was out helping Aruthr with god knows what, seems like two were gone every day thanks to Dutch. You didn’t mind John being gone all the time, you’ve grown accustomed to it by now. But unlike the other nights, this night would be a little different for you both.

By the time the sun had set you were already dressed in your PJs and getting ready for bed. Before you turned in you went to get some water. You walked to the rations tent and had a few ladles of water to satisfy your thirst. With a pleased sigh, you whipped your mouth and started to head back to your tent but the sounds of approaching horses stopped you. It was Arthur and John finally heading back to camp, thankfully by the looks of it neither of them were hurt. Instead of heading back, you decided to greet them.

“Heya fellas! Glad ya back in one piece!”

You shouted to them as they hitched their horses. Arthur greeted you with a smile and tipped his hat to you while John was quiet. You weren’t bothered by it but something was clearly wrong with him. Now that you were closer it was more apparent they might have been in a squabble or two. Their clothes were roughed up and they reeked of sweat and cheap booze. Arthur gave you a small pat on the shoulder before he left you and John to go inform Dutch about their little adventure. You smiled at him as he walked passed then returned your gaze to John. His face was stretched into a focused pout as he unpacked some things from his satchel. You thought about just leaving him and waiting for him to come to bed but you couldn’t just leave him without asking.

“You alright there John?”

You asked, stepping closer to him and placing a gentle hand on his lower back. Your tone grew soft with worry as you leaned forward to get a better look at him. His face was still scrunched up but when you looked at him he looked back. He sighed heavily and nodded.

“Yeah yeah ‘m fine.”

He responded, clearly lying. He was never a good liar. You rolled your eyes at him and pulled back from him, expecting his usual distant behavior. You were about to tell him you’d just meet him in the tent but that wasn’t the case. He turned towards you with a somewhat softer expression and an odd look in his eyes. Like he wanted to say something but can’t seem to find the words. You watched him quietly, feeling a little confused yourself.

“You su-”

“Can we talk?”

Your question was cut off by his question. Your eyes widened and your head tilted slightly, wondering what he could want to talk about this late. Regardless of the many questions you had, you nodded your head. He wasn’t one to get serious or sentimental with you, heck when you first started dating you weren’t sure he wanted to but he had his times where it was clear he did want to and did enjoy it. But it seemed like he’d never let himself fully enjoy the moments. So of course you were a little skeptical of his sudden request to talk but you wouldn’t say no.

“Yeah, we can talk. Let’s talk in the tent. Caught me right before I was heading to bed.”

He just nodded and followed you as you began to walk back to the tent. Silently you both walked through the camp, saying hello to a few people who were still awake before you both found yourselves sitting on your bed roll. Him more towards the end and you lean back, resting your arm against your makeshift pillow. He found himself playing with some blades of grass.

“What do you want to talk to me about?”

You asked, breaking his train of thought. Though you were curious about what he wanted to talk about you started to think he was just playing with you. You would be patient with him of course but you couldn’t help but second-guess things.

“What’s wrong with you huh?”

He asked bluntly, looking at you with confusion written all over his face. Your curious expression faded into an unpleasant one. What does he mean by that?! You thought to yourself. He could tell from how quickly your expression shifted that he messed up. A small sweat started to form on his forehead. Quickly he raised his hands to his sides and waved them in surrender, trying to fix his words before you get any more upset.

“N-not like that!- shit…I meant like why are you with me still? Ain’t no sane person would want to stay with me.”

He said, clearing up his previous mishap. A small chuckle came from him after he spoke but his words weren’t funny. They were a shocker for sure but it made a soft frown brush your lips. You sat up fully and shifted closer to him, not yet speaking. He watched as you moved, unsure of your response but a little nervous to hear it. He had this question on his mind for a while, it didn’t make sense to him how you could still be with him after how distant and often rude he would be. He wasn’t a good man, he was far from perfect. He was stubborn, impatient reckless, and impulsive. Everyone knew that but that didn’t matter much to you. Sure he wasn’t perfect but he was funny, reliable, protective, and most of all you loved him. He was caring in his own way, a way not many people would notice but a way you did. You held all the moments of his softer and more sincere side close to your heart because deep down you knew he was a good man, he just wasn’t good at showing it.

“Oh, John. It's cuz I love you dummy. I sure as hell am crazy for dating ya but I'm happy so I could care less.”

You said, placing your hand on his knee and giving it a small squeeze, assuring him you met it.

“Yur happy?? I've got Arthur always telling me I should do better so I doubt that..”

He mumbled, still unable to face you. John knew he was being distant. He knew he wasn't treating you right but he didn't have a good explanation for it. You witnessed how immature and irresponsible he could be and still loved it. He grew silent as he thought to himself, his eyes getting cloudy with anger, something you quickly noticed. He wasn't the best when it came to concealing his true feelings. You leaned forward and looked up at him, extending your hand up and cupping his bearded cheek. Making him look at you.

“Ain’t nobody in the camp perfect, I've been with y'all long enough to know that much. But even if you're stubborn, impulsive, and sometimes all of the above…I wouldn't want to be with anyone else.”

You said with a small chuckle as you rubbed his cheek and gave him a small smile. Finally, he looked up at you, his cloudy eyes clearing up as he heard you speak. For others, a response like that would make them turn their lip up at you but for him, it was what he wanted to hear. What he hoped to hear. He looked up at you, a faint smile on his lips.

“…Thank you…darling..”

“Ya welcome you.”

To your surprise, he moved closer to you and pulled you into a gentle hug. Soon after he hugged you wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back. You still were a little shocked by his behavior but wouldn’t push him away. It was nice to get the chance to hold again anyway. The hug lasted for a minute or so longer before he pulled away, loosening his grip around you and letting his hands fall to your waist. You looked up at him quietly, giving him a small smile, thinking that was all he wanted. But it wasn’t. He smiled softly down at you then leaned forward once more, planting a sweet and gentle kiss on your lips. You jolted upright from the sudden contact but slowly melted into his grasp. You couldn’t remember the last time you kissed him but god did you miss it. He was often rough but when it came to kissing and loving you he was gentle. His grasp on your hips tightened slightly, ruffling the fabric on your sides lightly. He held the kiss a few sends longer, letting himself fully enjoy this moment with you. When he pulled back you both made eye contact, him looking relaxed and flustered while you were surprised and flustered.

“Heh..don’t get me wrong, I do love you but I’d love it If you took a shower. You’re sweaty.”

“No I don’t, yur dramatic.”

He mumbled with a sly smile. Swiftly he pulled you closer to him and buried his face in the crook of your neck, planting more quick kisses across your neck. Unable to move from him holding you in place you tried to push him away playfully. Your small snickers turned to loud laughs as he went on, covering you with kisses in response to your claim. His smile only grew bigger the louder you laughed at him tickling you. Seeing how much you seemed to enjoy things he decided to push you gently on the ground and pin you down. He went on kissing your neck but you didn’t bother to stop him now. This went on a little longer before he pulled back from you, still having that dumb smile on his face. Your heart raced quickly but eventually, it grew steady when he stopped.

“I really hate you John.”

You said sarcastically, your breath a little shaky from how hard you were laughing. Your response makes him roll his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I know.”

He said, moving from on top of you to lay on his side facing you. When he moved off top you you shifted and laid on your side as well, looking back at him. From when he first walked into camp today he looked a lot better now. More relaxed than before. Seeing that made you happy. Again more silence fell but it wasn’t tense this time. You wanted this moment to last a little longer but something was making that difficult.

“Seriously, you stink. Go wash up.”

You said playfully as you put your hand in his face and softly pushed him back. Though you sounded like you were joking he did in fact reek. He laughed then let out a long sigh before begrudgingly listening to you. But before he left your side he looked back at you and gently brushed the back of his hand against your cheek. A look of appreciation in his gaze, the same look in your eyes. You weren’t sure why he had the sudden behavior change but you were glad he did. You’d still be patient with him but this side of him was the part of him you wanted to see more of.

#rdr2 #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #dutch van der linde #rdr2 x reader

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nthspecialll · 2 months ago

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Going to ramble a little bit here and I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Bill is one of my favourite characters in rdr2, which is a statement people often validly criticise because of Bill’s racism, aggression, general bigotry, and of course the monster he grows into in rdr1. But to me Bill is such a heartbreaking character because I truly believe he could have been so easily swayed down a better path if someone had have just tried to help him.

Bill was a very insecure and repressed man and throughout the entirety of the second game he is constantly seeking appraisal from the gang, you see it in the random camp interaction where he makes a show of bringing fish to Pearson, desperate for any kind of acknowledgment for his hard work and he only gets a small thank you from Pearson and Arthur in return. You see it in the sentiment that Bill repeats a few times when talking about his jealousy of Arthur, how he feels like he’s not allowed to make the same mistakes Arthur would be given a slap on the wrist for. You see it when he asks Kieran to have drink with him and then becomes upset and defensive when his genuine vulnerable attempt at connection is rejected.

A lot of people can’t see past Bill’s racism, which is fair, but I also see it as another really tragic and realistic part of his character. In his racist interactions with Charles, Lenny and Javier I think he’s acting out for attention because he doesn’t know any other way to get it and I don’t believe he actually holds real hatred for any of them because of their race, I think Bill deeply loves and respects them as his brothers despite his mistreatment of them. I see this as different to someone like Micah who is just genuinely hateful in his black little heart. Bill was taken into the army as a young man and spoon fed racist rhetoric by the people he respected and looked up to, his superiors, his brothers in arms. They’d share boogeyman stories about how bloodthirsty the natives were and fill his impressionable mind hatred, and then he had all those racist horror stories reaffirmed when they’d send him out to watch the men he considered brothers be slaughtered in battle by said boogeymen. I think it’s clear Bill has PTSD from his army days which warps the way he sees the world around him, I think Dutch (despite the can of worms that is his own racism) says it best when he says “I don’t doubt you saw things Bill but your tiny little mind was too small to comprehend what you saw. What you saw was people who lost everything to savagery.” I believe that Dutch especially, considering the idol he is to Bill, had the opportunity to educate him and help him be a kinder man and yet he chose not to despite his Evelyn Miller fuelled white-saviour-complex. Bill’s trauma obviously doesn’t excuse any of his actions, but I think it is evidence that he had the capacity to learn and be helped if someone had just believed in his intelligence enough to try.

Also lastly a big part of Bill’s insecurity can be attributed to his repressed sexuality, people talk about it a lot so I won’t say much but the part of it that hurts me the most is that Bill lost EVERYTHING for being gay. When he was discharged from the army he lost his job, his home, his food, his friends and his dignity. He was left homeless on the streets, turning to alcohol and becoming the man his father was, and robbing people just to get by. Dutch saved him and became his messiah, he gave him purpose again and then intentionally left him uneducated and pining for his approval to use him as a tool the same way the army did. Taking advantage of all the good parts of Bill Williamson and leaving them to rot and fester under the filth.

What are your thoughts on how Bill was treated and what could have changed for him had he been treated differently? RIP Bill Williamson I could have taken better care of you <3

Well you touched on a lot of subjects that I have already touched on in my other Bill posts, so I guess I won't need to go into background details LMFAO.

Bill was treated like a fool by everyone for every small mistake he has every made no matter how small it is, because most are small, and he is also blamed for things that aren't really his fault, like Sean's death. He is pretty much that one person you use as the butt of a joke, and a lot of characters don't really give him a fair chance.

John actually seems to be his best friend though, they are both kind of labeled as lazy, they are both drunks and they both know it is a problem. The issue is that John is given a lot more freedoms than Bill is and that leads to him becoming very jealous very easily, John to some extent seems to notice it but it doesn't seem to bother him.

Bill really seems to like Lenny, taking him out to drink and out to rob and calling him his son, however Lenny doesn't really seem to be that enthusiastic. It seems that Lenny goes with Bill when Bill asks, but he doesn't seem to be the one to take initiative to do something with him.

Now Hosea, he is absolutely not giving Bill a fair chance, he is going after him constantly and literally setting Bill up for failure. Hosea really seems to be using his senority against Bill and being a dick to him. Micah does the same, except he seems to hide it a little better because he feels they are on the same side.

Dutch is treating Bill like he is a child and a fool, even thoguh everything Bill does it to please Dutch.

As for what could have changed, I think a lot, like a lot. Steve said that if just someone had told Bill "hey we appriciate you" he would have sided with Arthur, and that is a massive thing because it means betraying Dutch whom he is otherwise so loyal to. So I think you can change pretty much anything about Bill if you just treat him nicely, it might take some time and a few reminders, but yeah his racism, his sour comments, his drinking could likely be changed if just effort was put into it, if someone encouraged him and stood by him.

#rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #john marston #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #rdr2 community #rdr john #rdr2 #bill williamson #rdr2 bill #answered asks #asks #ask #nthspecialll asks #nthspecialll

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kmt123whatsthetea · 1 year ago

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Something stupid

Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Requested by @jelloangela

Request gist: Make up/ break up sex with weasley twins. Reader dumps the twins for doing something dumb. The reader passes them by a few weeks or months later.

A/N: Thanks for the request. I might have made the title a callback to a Frank Sinatra song (except the twins will be doing something stupid instead of saying their ‘I love yous’). I went for OOTP Fred and George because out of all of the stupid stuff they do, that movie almost feels like a highlight reel. I also went for break up sex but the idea that I had, I don’t know if it counts so i'm sorry if it doesn't. I also had an idea but there wasn't a spell for it, so there is now (It’ll make sense when near the end). I'm also not sure about the ending, so if it sucks, here’s your warning

T/W: break up sex (Twins are not aware of this however. Maybe more like one last fuck?), Jealous twins (really reminded me of the twins from the RDR2 stranger side mission, nipple play, groping, unprotected sex, threesome (the boys dont touch each other), just a smidge of overstimulation, mentions of burns (pretend Umbridge was more hurt than she was from the dragon)

1.7K words

Fred and George had always had a mischievous streak, even back to childhood (or so Molly told you one lunchtime at The Burrow). They always told jokes and pulled pranks, determined to be the clowns wherever they went. That didn't change once you entered their lives.

At first, the twins would pull jokes on each other, hoping to outshine the other twin for the honoured title of ‘your boyfriend’. To them, the holy grail of pranks would seem dull compared to the feeling they got around you. Before they realised that you loved them both, and they both loved you much more than any joke or prank. You had always stood by them through every prank, making them promise you that they’d be careful and whatnot.

But this time, when you saw their prank, you practically dragged them by their ears to their room. How were you not supposed to feel angry? Your boyfriends had set a firework dragon on someone high up in the Ministry, the right hand woman to Cornelius Fudge, no less. Sure she had it coming for everything wicked she did, but this could land them in bigger trouble than usual. If she twisted her influence just right, then she could even bring Azkaban into the conversation. That's how you came to be stood in front of them in their room back at The Burrow, both looking like kicked puppies while you paced back and forth. You had been going off of one since your arrival, letting them know exactly what you thought.

It was George who spoke up first, trying to ease that fire in your eyes.

“It’ll be okay love, it always is. If she does say anything, then we’ll tell Fudge about the Cruciatus curse and those quills. We’ll handle it, I promise”.

As sincere as George's words were, they didn't make you any less angry. In fact, it only made it worse. It was like they didn't care about the consequences. They didn't care that it was their word against hers. They didn't care that the woman they pranked had the Minister of Magic under her thumb. Fred decided to stop your rant with his own method.

Fred stepped forward and wound his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. His breath when he spoke brushed against your neck.

“Georgie’s right, We’ll handle it. Maybe we should take your pretty little mind off of it”

His lips ghosted over yours as George moved closer behind you, leaving kisses along the back of your neck. As much as you wanted to keep giving them a piece of your mind, you knew it was no use. Not only would they not learn from their mistake, they’d also know that they were your biggest weakness.

There was only one option left…

“One last time” you whispered, knowing that both boys heard you, whether or not they were listening would be their downfall.

Freds lips met yours in a gentle kiss, his hands gripping your hips. George focused on getting your top off, eager to have his own piece of you to play with. As he finally undid your bra, he pulled you away from Fred and turned you aware, so that you were now face to face with him instead. Both boys often still got a little jealous of the other, wanting more time or more attention (you’d even find one of the boys whining about how you gave them less attention, but that slowly became an excuse for more intimate attention).

George kissed his way down your throat, travelling straight down to press kisses on the soft skin of your tits. He loved paying extra special attention to your nipples, the way you moaned and pressed your legs together had his dick twitching in his boxers. His teeth grazed your nipple, making you let out a sigh of pleasure.

Fred’s hands slipped down to your trousers, tugging them down with your underwear before you could even blink. After helping you step out of your bottoms, he slowly stood back up. His hands trailed up along the backs of your thighs until he cupped your ass, kneading the flesh of your backside. George looked up at you through tufts of ginger hair, his brown eyes locking onto yours. He smirked, his teeth still caressing your now sensitive nipple. He moved back up and pressed soft, light kisses all over your face. His voice was just as soft.

“We just want to take care of you, love. You worry about us too much. Let us take care of you, show you just how much we love our pretty little worry bird”

When you nodded in response, he looked at Fred. It had always amazed you how they could seemingly communicate without saying a word. Whether it was telling the other the right answer in class or telling the other what to do in moments like these. As if like being told to do so, Fred guided you back onto the bed. He sat against the headboard before positioning you between his legs, your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist once more. George made his way between your legs, his cock already out and already hard. He ran his tip through your folds, enjoying the way you squirmed in his brother's arms. George pushed his cock in slowly, only stopping when his hips were pressed against your own. Both boys were tuned to every sound that left your lips and every move you made. They loved you like this.

George's thrusts were deep, pushing himself as far inside you as he could. His hand came down to rub quick, precise circles on your clit. Fred held your trembling body, stroking your cheek as he whispered sweet praises in your ear.

As you got close and closer to finishing, the boys upped their game. George's fingers became firmer on your clit and Fred’s hands moved to grope your tits, giving you that last push over the edge. Your walls squeezed George's cock, making him groan at the tight fit. His orgasm caught him by surprise, he gripped your thighs tight as he came deep inside of you. George stilled inside of you for a moment, collecting himself. When he pulled out, however, you found yourself being pulled up Fred’s chest, his cock nestled against your pussy. His breath fanned across your ear.

“Can you go again, love?”

When you nodded, he positioned himself at your entrance and pushed in. You whined and buried your face into his neck, you were still sensitive from George. Fred’s hips bucked up into yours, stuffing his cock into you again and again. His hold on you tightened, keeping you pressed close against him.

George was sat on the side of the bed, his eyes trained on your face. He reached his hand out to stroke your cheek. You were lost in the pleasure from both of them. Everything blurred together. One thing that guided you through was your quickly approaching orgasm. Before you knew it, you were cumming again. Your juices soaked Fred’s cock, causing it to slip out of your pussy. Desperate to get off, Fred’s hand came down to finish himself off. His cum landed on your abdomen until he collapsed back against the headboard.

Before either boy could start the aftercare as usual, you were off the bed and wiping away the cum with a nearby tissue. The twins looked at one another with a confused expression.

When you quickly got dressed, Fred got up and put his hand on your arm.

“Love, where are you going?”

You stood your ground, fighting back any emotion that could let them back in.

“One last time. You both crossed a line. I love you both more than anything but that ‘prank’ was dangerous. Sure, she was horrible, but 2rd degree burns? Is everything a joke to you? You need to grow up and realise that life isn't one big playground for you to prank”

Knowing that they would try to stop you from leaving, you bolted. And with that, Alice left wonderland. Leaving Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee confused, hurt, and alone.

____________________________________________

Days turned into weeks. Those weeks dragged on into months. With school over for you, you had no reason to bump into them. They had tried to write to you. They had tried to visit too, but you avoided them. Crying over one boy is upsetting, crying over two is heartbreaking.

An investigation was raised into the attack on Umbridge, if you could call it that. But surprisingly, she dismissed it. You had asked a few old friends from your Hogwarts days but heard different stories. All revolving around centaurs. Strange. Life was almost back to normal, apart from the absence of two redheading twins who still had their names engraved on your heart. You didn't know what had become of them since leaving Hogwarts. You tried to avoid all news about them.

But it was like fate.

The day you visited Diagon Alley, there was a new shop. So bright and colourful. A bright orange. You were drawn inside before you got a look at the sign. Maybe if you had seen the name ‘Weasley’ on the sign, you might have walked the other way. The walls still smelled of paint, the products looked freshly packaged before being displayed. The whole thing was like a memory. Tiny bits of deja vu just calling to you.

The two dumbfounded men on the staircase staring at you.

It had been months. They hadn't seen or heard from you in all that time. They didn't know how to apologise for something like that. They never apologised for their pranks, at least not sincerely. But they had too this time. That prank had cost them you, and they would swear to quit if it meant getting you back.

The twins looked at each other once more and nodded. George whispered a spell and watched as a small butterfly appeared from thin air before their eyes. The winged beauty fluttered over to you, catching your attention. Your eyes followed it, turning around as it circled you. As soon as your eyes fell on the twins, the butterfly disappeared.

All those months of heartache. All those tears. Your feet carried you closer until you reached the bottom of the stairs. Both twins extended a hand to you, and you took it without a second thought.

Just like old times.

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arthuringmymorgan · 2 months ago

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rdr has been consuming a lot of my thoughts lately, and i need to write it down somewhere or i’m gonna go insane. i’ve been thinking a lot about arthur’s celibacy, specifically the layers and complexity to it beyond him just not wanting to have sex. gta 5 came out way before rdr2 and you’re able to take home prostitutes in it. rockstar is capable of adding this feature but just chose not to do it for rdr2. looking at it simply they probably just decided it wasn’t necessary for the game, but i love character analysis and i love arthur morgan so obviously i have to look at it at a deeper level.

to me there’s two major reasons as to why arthur refuses to have sex, the first being that he uses celibacy as a form of self punishment. arthur has very low self esteem, both from how he looks (when you interact with a hotel mirror for the first time he starts calling himself ugly and says “no wonder everyone leaves you”. this man hates himself and it makes me SO sad), and also from just how he is. throughout the game arthur makes it very clear that he does not see himself as a good man, and when you pay more attention to his character it’s clear that he is good at heart, his lifestyle just forces him not to be. he goes out of his way to help strangers and is never mean or rude to them (at most he makes some sarcastic jokes but that’s it). i believe that if arthur were given a choice he wouldn’t choose to live a life that revolves around hurting people, but he wasn’t given a choice. he was orphaned at a young age, dutch and hosea found him, and he was raised into an outlaw so he could keep a place in the gang and survive. he’s done really bad things and the point of this isn’t to act like he’s done nothing wrong, i just feel like it’s worth noting that he most likely wouldn’t do those things if life hadn’t worked out for him this way, and it wasn’t necessary for his survival.

so arthur sees himself as a bad man, to the point where if anyone so much as implies that he’s good he’ll deny the hell out of it. and because he doesn’t see himself as a good person, he believes he doesn’t deserve good things. this is mostly obvious in the way he talks about eliza and isaac, making a point to mention that because of his life he was never really there for them and couldn’t see them often. of course he blames himself for it, but it seems like part of him is telling himself that he deserved this. not that they deserved to get killed, but that he deserved to lose them, because they made him happy and why should a bad man have anything that makes him happy. so, arthur denies himself of any good thing, including sex, part of why he chooses to be celibate.

the other, most obvious reason, has to do with eliza and isaac. again, because of his life, he could never really be there for them. he could only show up a few times a year, rather than stick around and be a constant in isaac’s life. and one day, he shows up and they’re both dead. this would’ve be so painful, and of course arthur never wants to go through that again, so he just refuses sex in general. if he doesn’t have sex, then he can’t get anyone pregnant, he can’t have a kid, he can’t have one really good thing in his life that makes him really happy, and he can’t have it ripped away from him again. of course, the odds of what happened to eliza and isaac happening again, the exact same way, to somebody else is low, but it’s still a possibility so arthur just doesn’t risk it.

anyway i’m insane about this game and i have so much to say about it so i’m sorry that this was long i just needed to get it out somewhere 😭😭

#idek if any of this makes sense i just needed to yap #arthur i love you so dearly #“comfort character” and he’s never had a day of comfort in his life #rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption fandom #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption

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verdemoun · 3 months ago

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one of my few complaints about red dead 2 was that the 4 endings were all the same. I felt like if R* wanted to have multiple endings, they could have at least made them different, maybe with different characters involved changing the course of events.

What I thought would be interesting is a chain-of-events system, where doing one drastic action would lead to something different, and the missions that would change events being unlocked by having high or low honour. For example, high honour would unlock a mission to save Kieran after Jack’s party, and low honour would unlock a mission to save Strauss from Pinkertons around the same time.

i know exactly what you mean it would be so fun if rdr came out with a more interactive drama format and secret endings like until dawn but i also think it would lose some of its charm? so much of the narrative of rdr as a whole is built on the inevitability of the characters' fates. arthur says multiple times in chapter one he is going to die an outlaw, there's no escape for him, dutch warning john the agency will only be looking for another monster after he's dead, ultimately true when he meets his end, jack making the choice to seek revenge and becoming an outlaw despite everyone trying to give him the chance for a life better than that ect.

and of course part of the challenge of rdr2 is that it has to at least sort of match rdr1. bill, javier and dutch have to live and become evil. john, abigail, uncle and jack have to live and end up at beecher's hope together. i personally love the idea of if you save one character, another dies eg if you tackle sean quicktime event style having seen the sniper aiming at him, bill gets killed, but of course that wouldn't work.

it would be really fun though to have a chain of events system that changed some outcomes. the biggest gripe for me is that yes arthur has to die it's such a major part of the game and part of john's motivation to change but i really just want an ending where he doesn't die alone because that hurt me.

let me choose to send micah to the downes ranch. moss spends too much time on hypotheticals under the cut

1. saving sean in rhodes, resulting in sean coming to guarma and javier escaping during the chase through saint denis. sean gets into a fistfight with either micah or arthur depending on honor, resulting in the person he is fighting being the one captured in place of javier. the gang who stayed behind are obviously wary of javier, with a mission explaining how much abusive and power hungry he was while they were gone. some members of the gang leaving even before beaver hollow. 2. if you had high honor AND arthur didn't drink during jack's party, you'd get the option to be on guard duty. this would allow you to kill some o'driscolls attempting to sneak into camp, but also funnier options like not letting swanson wander off while drunk (if you don't, he gets attacked by alligators and dies), catching micah stealing extra rations from the food cart, and bill very very badly trying to flirt with arthur. 3. kieran living would result in kieran ratting to the pinkertons in an effort to get dutch captured or killed. when caught he'd give a very desperate speech about how dutch was worse than colm because at least colm didn't pretend to care, revealing what a creep dutch was to most of the women in camp (that one dutch interation with mary-beth brother ew), and arguing none of them would be safe if they kept following dutch because dutch was obviously losing whatever it was they used to see in his 'teachings'. high honor, kieran is allowed to leave with mary-beth quickly deciding to go with him, or low honor he is killed in camp for being a traitor. 4. arthur can choose to start shooting and save hosea during saint denis. this directly leads to lenny being shot in the shootout, with the choice to carry him or leave him behind. carrying him results in him dying of infection on the boat, but chapter 5 starts on the ship with the option to sit beside lenny and have a honor-changing conversation where lenny asks why arthur started shooting when of course dutch would have found a way to save hosea OR hosea reprimanding arthur for rescuing him at the cost of lenny's life, warning him that no life was worth more than another. low honor arthur would counter they decided which lives were worth more than others everytime they went robbing 5. if you save hosea, arthur tells john to go ahead during the attack on beaver hollow because hosea is struggling to keep up during the climb OR hosea tells john to go because arthur is struggling if arthur has tb. 6. if micah went to the downes ranch instead, it's possible for arthur to successfully beat and kill micah in their last fight since he has an obvious advantage. only to get shot by pinkertons (high honor) or dutch (low honor). 7. the secret ending would be if micah has tb, hosea lives AND arthur has low honor, dutch and hosea get into a stand off after dutch shoots arthur. dutch may have been willing to shoot arthur, but not hosea. he walks away and hosea gets to hold arthur and comfort him as he bleeds out. the first newspaper available for purchase in the epilogue would confirm the pinkertons caught up to hosea and arthur, killing both. the real devastation would be that going to where arthur's grave usually ends results in a surprise cutscene with charles already being there, saying it's where he would have liked arthur to be buried instead, and that he was a confusing, complicated man but he did love him (charthur confirmed ending). 8. there would be an achievement for sneaking onto the grounds of sisika, and finding two unmarked graves for hosea and arthur respectively.

#moss yaps

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untitled-writer-013 · 2 years ago

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Can I get a Javier escuella x fem reader?, where she is his fiance while there in the gang together, she is very close to Arthur and sees him as a father, so when people start picking sides and obviously she is gonna go with arthur and Javier goes with dutch and she's very upset and hurt , not knowing that Javier is pretending so Dutch wont suspect him so they can run away and start a life . He tries to talk to her about it while she threatens to leave him , and he Panickingly tells her about it and begs for her not to leave him.😊

An Unbearable Weight

Javier x Fem!Reader

warning(s): hurt/comfort, fluff, some rdr2 spoilers

Javier and (Y/n) were deeply in love with each other. If one had to be away, the other was longing for their return. But Javier asked his darling to keep their love on the down low, not wanting Dutch to know and force them to stay. His darling didn’t know this though, so she begrudgingly kept their love a secret, wishing she could be open about how much she loved him.

Javier did his best to make up for it though, taking her out on the town when he could, and sneaking into her tent late in the night, reassuring her that she’d be safe as long as he was there. (Y/n) loved Javier, but Arthur also meant something to her. She saw him as a father, having always been there for her, and had comforted her when she needed it.

So, when things started to go sour, (Y/n) sided with Arthur naturally. She had seen how Dutch was acting the last few weeks, and she didn’t like it one bit. She tried to get Javier to see reason, but he refused, and she could tell he wanted to say something, but he never did. It frustrated her to no end, and made her doubt her lover, something she never thought she’d do.

(Y/n) let out a sigh, watching as Javier left to do a mission with Arthur, hoping they’d be alright. She had made some flower crowns with Jack, smiling as she watched him hand his own crown to his mother. She then frowned, wishing to have a child of her own with Javier, but was wondering if she even had a future with him, especially with how closed off he had been lately.

When the two men returned, (Y/n) had greeted them, now wearing her flower crown proudly. Arthur smiled, telling (Y/n) about the mission while Javier watched, a gentle smile on his face. He frowned as Dutch approached them, asking the two men about the mission while ignoring (Y/n). This made (Y/n) frown, deciding to return to her tent while they talked, a bit upset she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Javier.

A few weeks later, (Y/n) found herself at a standstill, with her and Arthur standing on one side, while Javier, Dutch, and Micah stood at the other. She never liked Micah, but she wished Dutch and Javier would see reason.

“Javier, please! Don’t you trust Arthur? Don’t you trust me?” (Y/n) begged, wishing that the man she had loved for so long would see that she was right. Javier looked between Dutch and (Y/n), wondering what he should do.

“If you choose him, we’re done.” (Y/n) declared, making Javier’s eyes widen. He pushed Dutch aside, taking (Y/n)’s hand gently into his own.

“Mi amor, please. I love you so much, don’t leave me. We can run away together, have a life of our own, have children, just like you wished. Don’t do this, I promise I’ll stick by you, please.” Javier pleaded with her, making everyone’s eyes widen as she nodded, tears in her eyes as she smiled, an unbearable weight lifting off his chest. She pulled him onto their side, the three of them running once the Pinkertons showed up.

They lived a long, happy life. They lived their dream, having a house of their own, with two beautiful children, who got to meet Arthur before he passed from tuberculosis. (Y/n) was saddened for a while, but Javier was there to reassure her. He’d braid her hair when he was thinking, sing to her as he played the guitar, and he’d tell stories to their two girls when they couldn’t sleep. He was a great father, and he didn’t regret his decision.

~fin~

author’s note: i think Javier would ultimately make the right decision in the end, and he’d make an excellent father. <33

#original writing #taking requests #x reader #fem reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two

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thoughts-of-bear-undercovers · 15 days ago

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Get to know your mutuals

Thanks so much for tagging me @joelsprettyprincess

what's the origin of your blog title?: @thoughts-of-bear is my Halsin fan blog so Halsin = bear guy = me thinking of him all day = thoughts of bear

OTP(s) + shipname: I don't ship much, but I love Ineffable Husbands, Hannigram and Trephacard. I probably forgot some that I like tho

favorite color: Definetly green! I love all kinds of green. But lately orange and other warm colours have grown on me too <3

favorite game: probably still Baldur's Gate 3, maybe Skyrim. I've been spending time with RDR2 too and I really love that too. Although I too have the most hours in the Sims 4 XD

song stuck in your head: right now, none I think.

weirdest habit/trait?: probably being on this platform XD

hobbies: ballet, sewing, videogames, reading, all things art, swimming, listening to music...

if you work, what's your profession? I just got the job as a swimming teacher for little kids <3 but mainly i'm at school (apprenticeship to become a tailor)

if you could have any job you wish what would it be? costume designer, which is my plan I just hope i get to work on some bigger projects later on. my dream would be hollywood or something along those lines

something you're good at: I've been doing ballet for almost 17 years now so that I guess... and sewing

something you're bad at: talking about my feelings ^^ uhh keeping my plants alive... sports that involve catching and/ or throwing things... driving...

something you love: my cat <3 and watching the sunset ... stars ... flowers and trees and fresh air... my bed...

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Tolkien's work probably. He is my favourite author and the greatest fandom for me. I've read almost all the books (several times) and even started learning Sindarin at one point XD

something you hate: heartless people. it's just so tiring to see all the hate in the world and the people who hurt so many others simply for their own benefit.

something you collect: do books count?

something you forget: Names. I'm terrible at names (and associating faces with them). I've gotten better at appointments tho

what's your love language?: apart from the fact that I don't really subscribe to the "love language" concept, I've also never been in a proper, longer relationship

favorite movie/show: movie: Lotr obviously, but also those; shows: used to be Good Omens before the whole NG thing :/ I still love my idiots tho... also Stranger Things, Our Flag Means Death, Sherlock, Merlin, TLOU and more

favorite food: oof that is a good question. i love all kinds of food that isn't spicy. but maybe indian dal? or my dad's spaghetti...

favorite animal: goats! I love goats! i want a goat! also snakes and cats

what were you like as a child? umm idk i think i was generally well-behaved, creative and a friendly kid. I definetly know that I've always loved sleeping and was a book-worm

favorite subject at school? chemistry and art!

least favorite subject? sports...and french

what's your best character trait? i've been told i am very kind and i love to help people. and one (1) person finds me funny i'm very proud of that

what's your worst character trait? i cannot stand up for myself and I feel like sometimes i'm a little arrogant (unintentionally)

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? cough should go away :/

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? that is my favourite superpower!!!! i think Tolkien first, maybe try going to a Queen concert then or idk maybe tell Mary Shelley that i loved Frankenstein...or Monet and his paintings... there's too many options

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): You dare make me decide??? Here's my list that i made some time ago... i gotta add Homecoming by @saintchroma there!! And my favourite RDR2 fic is Baptized by Fire by @hihomeghere. Yeah I probably forgot lots of stuff, but don't be mad pls >.<

I have annoyed too many people via tag lately so I will just leave this open for everyone who wants to participate ^^ have fun people

I love you my moots <3

#tag game

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coltermorning · 2 years ago

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Wanted: Day Three (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Away from camp where Arthur can keep a better eye on you, the pair of you argue your differences to pass the time and take advantage of the nearby lake.

Author’s Notes: Part three of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, eventual smut, enemies to lovers

AO3 Link

Wanted: Day Three

Word count: 5764

“You keep talking like that and you’ll lose the privilege.”

“You’re awfully threatening for a man who never follows through with them.”

You and Arthur had started the day bright and early with a shouting match over the fact that you had barely gotten any sleep, the colder weather and his hack job of a tie down keeping you from it. You had tried and failed for most of the night to pull free, and now your arms ached nearly as badly as the rest of you.

“Said you’d kill me and you didn’t,” you spat. “Twice. Now you’re threatening to, what, gag me? Keep me quiet? But you won’t. I reckon you got the least nerve out of any bounty hunter I know.”

He was trying hard to keep you from getting under his skin, but this seemed to cross a line. He stood and approached you where you still sat, bound and livid.

“You want me to hurt you?”

His words were low and quiet, intimidating in a way you had never felt from him. You took a breath. “I want you to quit mouthing off and untie me.”

“Oh, I ain’t thought of that. Sure, why don’t I just let you run off back to New Austin while I’m at it?”

You gritted your teeth. “From the ground, you bastard.”

He scoffed, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a dismissal. “Why should I? You ain’t been nothing but a pain in the ass since I ran you out of that basin.”

You didn’t have a good argument for this other than that your back was killing you and you had to relieve yourself. You looked to the lake and had an idea.

“Because I…need a wash.”

He did laugh this time. “You want me to go find a tub while I’m at it, draw you a bath? I ain’t your caretaker. You can sit there and rot for three days for all I care.”

“Please.” You tried your hardest to be sincere in the word.

He regarded your for all of a heartbeat before that snide smile overtook his face. “How’s that taste?”

“Please. I need to relieve myself, and I feel like my muscles are about to snap any second.”

“What did I just say? You’ll have to deal with it. Besides, I ain’t falling for that crap.”

“It’s not crap,” you said, your anger surprising you. You hadn’t felt it take over like this in years.

He nodded, holding your eye as he kept that infuriating smile plastered on his face. “Sure.”

You didn’t have it in you to answer him. To take that bait only for him to deny you again. So you sat instead, taking a long breath and looking out at the lake. The water was probably freezing anyway. And while it would be good means for escape, it would also be good means to get shot. Or drown.

“You know what?” he asked, following your gaze and looking out over the water. “That ain’t such a bad idea. I reckon I’ll have a wash myself.”

You shot him a nasty look, the man radiating pure smugness as he reached for his boot. You watched, unbelieving you had been caught by such an ignorant, arrogant bastard of a man. He stripped his boots, his gear, his coat. All in clear view of you, all while knowing just how much it got under your skin to do so. He took his shirt and pants off too, left in only a union suit that he started to unbutton when he caught your eye.

You realized you’d been watching his hands unbutton the thin fabric and snapped your gaze to his face instead, pure hatred spilling from you.

“It’s okay to look,” he teased. “Probably the most entertainment you’ll get out this way.”

“You’re so full of yourself. It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, I ain’t got nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” he said as he pulled the union suit from his shoulders. You were about to call him on the nickname until you saw those damned arms of his, how broad-chested he was. He was sculpted in muscle, beautiful bodied, and it only made you madder. It would be so much easier to stand this, to laugh in his face, if he was ugly and marred under all that clothing. But now you could only grit your teeth and look away as he pulled his remaining clothing off.

“Have it your way,” he said on a laugh, the sound of him wading into the water soon reaching you. You knew the lake was as cold as you had guessed when he winced and slowed his progress, his steps further and further apart. After long enough, you finally heard splashing and turned to see him working the lake water over his shoulders, washing the grit from his skin. You let out an annoyed huff of breath and turned away, shifting your body so that your back was to him, trying to swallow your anger and come up with a better plan than this.

For the first time in your life, you were drawing a blank on what to do. Most bounty hunters weren’t as smart, weren’t as stubborn, and didn’t have the resources to keep you tied up so well for so long. You needed to get free if you were going to best this man, and he wasn’t budging on that subject. The only outlet you had was convincing him that his gang members were right and he was wrong for capturing you. But even with that, he seemed to bury his head in the sand and ignore what was right in front of him. Maybe if you made him feel guilty over it, you could get through to him better. Even if it meant giving up in a sense. You decided that was the only way and that you would have to risk the dangers of the lake. As far as strategy went, it was your best option. You just prayed luck would turn in your favor once more, lest you wind up with a hole in your head courtesy of the man at your back.

After a short while, you heard Arthur walk out of the lake and toward you to dress.

“Water’s nice. You should try it.”

You turned and shot him a nasty look only to see that he had barely gotten his union suit back over his hips. What little fabric covered him didn’t leave much to the imagination. And he was annoyingly well endowed. Damn him.

“Careful. You let that mouth of yours go any slacker, you’ll start catching flies.”

You clamped your mouth shut and composed yourself, trying hard to focus on your plan and keep from arguing with him. That was all he wanted. He wanted you to ease his guilt. He wanted you to be defiant enough to make him think he was doing the right thing. No longer.

You let out a long sigh, giving him a minute so that you were sure he was somewhat dressed when you turned to him.

“Why didn’t you kill me? Back in Blackwater?”

His face set with a flat look you couldn’t figure a meaning for. He took a moment to answer, halfway through buttoning his shirt when he spoke. “I considered it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I only kill people I see as threats.” You thought back to the only time he had shot at you—after you had nearly escaped him back in that canyon.

“So I wasn’t threatening enough for you?”

He smirked. “Threatening, no. Annoying as all hell maybe. But you were hopping away unarmed, still bound up in all that rope, knowing you wouldn’t get anywhere. Why would I kill you when I could catch you just as quick and save myself the bother?”

“Because you said you would.”

This seemed to have the effect you wanted, as he finished with his shirt before responding, frowning all the while. “You wanted me to kill you then? That’s why you did it?”

“No.” The truth was, you hadn’t been thinking at all at the time. He had been marching you straight to your death, and your panic had set in so deep you did the only thing you could do, no matter how futile. You debated keeping this to yourself then remembered what you had to do to get through to him. “You ever…been so scared you would die you’d do anything to get out of it?” You met his eye, and by the way his gaze faltered, you knew you’d hit your mark.

You didn’t expect him to answer, but his voice rose quietly. “Sure.”

You chose your next words carefully. “I had to try. I…want to live.”

To your disappointment, that goddamn smirk overtook his face. “Should have thought of that before you killed all those people. And blew up someone meaner than you, that was your worst mistake.”

You wanted to argue that he wasn’t meaner than you or he would have killed you already. If your roles were reversed, you certainly would have killed him by now. Him and that smart mouth. But you didn’t say this, taking a different course.

“You think I killed those people for fun? I been running for nigh on two years now, all because a well-respected family tried to pin something on me I didn’t do, destroyed my good name, and told everyone around to shoot me on sight. Only I wouldn’t go down so easy. I spent an entire year trying to clear my name, to no avail, and ever since they’ve sent one bounty hunter after another after me. That’s what raised my bounty so high. They just want me silenced now, want me to go away.”

To your surprise, Arthur’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Seems you and me got that in common.”

He held your eye a heartbeat too long. It took everything in you not to smile in triumph, to hold his gaze with a hard look of your own instead. You were finally getting somewhere.

“Anyway,” he said, waving the moment away like it was nothing. He picked up his gun belt and fastened it, brought his satchel around him. “I’m gonna go find something to eat. Don’t wait up.”

You scoffed, feeling your shoulders slump on their own accord.

Arthur made for his horse and pulled a gun out of his scabbard that you recognized. “Hey!”

He turned to you with a grin. “What, you like it?” He was holding your rifle in his hands, the tic marks you had carved into its side plain as day from where you sat. “I usually don’t take a man’s gun until after he’s dead, but I like this one too much to wait that long.”

You hated him then. More than anything. You despised him for the way he talked about handing you over to your own death like it was nothing. You vowed then and there if you got free, you would kill him. Brutally.

You didn’t give Arthur the satisfaction of some lightweight insult and instead stayed quiet as he retreated into the nearby woods with a grim laugh, your eyes following him all the while. When he was out of your line of sight, you tried again to free yourself. This time, you sawed the ropes at your wrists against the one tied to the stake, back and forth, hoping they would tear themselves apart with the friction. After what had to be five minutes of doing this, you gave up. He had tied you up so tightly there wasn’t room enough to move the ropes against each other properly. You stilled and decided to save your energy. You would need it if your last resort came to fruition.

Not long after, Arthur approached from the bank to your left with a beaver hanging over his shoulder. You knew your rifle was too powerful for such an animal but kept your mouth firmly shut about it.

“Soup’s on,” he said, throwing the beaver at your feet. He returned your gun to his saddle then proceeded to skin the animal, setting some of the meat to cook above the fire. Your mouth watered at the sound of it sizzling. But again, you didn’t say anything as he worked. And you remained quiet until finally, he shocked you by walking to your back and cutting clean through the rope at your hands.

“Since you seemed to remember your manners,” he taunted, circling you. “Plus, I ain’t feeding you again. You can get it yourself. Oh, and you try anything, and I put a bullet through you. That ain’t a threat, it’s a promise. You clear on that?”

You nodded, rubbing the skin at your wrists, bending forward so your back got a break from sitting straight so long. You ate your fill and savored every bite, not having had anything as good for days. You considered escape all the while. If you found a way to incapacitate Arthur long enough, you could cut through the rope at your feet with the knife at his hip. You would kill him with it too. You had to now—it was an urge not only formed from hatred but from knowing he would pursue you to the ends of the earth if you didn’t. You wondered whether his precious gang would come after you for killing one of their own. They certainly seemed close enough to hold that sort of a grudge. You shook the thought away when Arthur tossed you a canteen, like he would pull the words right from your mind if you didn’t stop thinking about them. You looked to him in question.

“I won’t offer again,” he said, nodding to the canteen. You hadn’t seen him drink from it and were somewhat suspicious of it but raised it to your lips anyway. If he wanted to poison you after all this time, he was an even bigger fool than you thought.

When the water hit your tongue, you nearly moaned. It was the only thing you had had to quench your thirst besides Charles’ kindness back in that camp, and your mouth was dry as a bone because of it. You chugged it down, nearly draining the whole thing before Arthur said, “Easy,” and came and snatched the canteen out of your hands. You shot him daggers for it but again didn’t speak. He chuckled. “Don’t take much to make a person compliant, you know.” He walked around the fire to face you, his hand resting on the gun at his hip as he drank. “For some, it’s water. Or food. But for you, it seems to be hope.” Your gaze narrowed. “I control your hope, I control you. Whatever’s left of it.”

He wasn’t wrong. And it scared you he had read you so well. It wasn’t hard to guess at, but if he knew you still had some kind of hope left, then he knew you were still planning to get out of this. And that lowered your chances of doing so significantly.

“Tell you what,” he said, taking his gun out of its holster and tossing the canteen to his feet, the thing giving an empty clunking sound when it hit the dirt. “I’ve decided to be kind today. I can at least give you one last good day.” He made sure his gun was loaded, spinning the cylinder and clicking it back into place. “We can play a little game of sorts while we’re at it.” He leveled you with a satisfied smirk, waiting for you to ask him about his grand idea.

You sighed in annoyance. “What game?”

“I’ll let you go for a swim if you want. But the second you go under, I start shooting. And I gotta warn you, I don’t miss.” His smirk had turned into a flash of teeth, his grin making you madder than the game he proposed. There went your last chance at escape. You were a strong swimmer and may have still stood a chance, but was that something you wanted to risk? “What do you say?”

Your eyes met his and you nodded. “Sure. But no games. I just want a wash, that’s it.”

He shrugged. “Have it your way. But I would have preferred the challenge.”

You rolled your eyes and put your hands on the ground, pushing yourself up. You looked to him, expecting him to cut the rope at your feet. He just nodded toward the lake, neglecting to do anything of the sort. You refrained from saying the cutting words on your tongue and shuffled your feet, making slow progress toward the lakeshore. To your annoyance, Arthur followed. Once you got to the water and debated whether to shed any of your clothes or not, he rounded you.

“I ain’t taking no chances with you,” he said, making a show of holstering his gun but leaving it visible. He then reached for the lapels of your coat.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you said, leaning back.

He met your eyes, and instead of anger, you found a knowing satisfaction lingering in his gaze. “You want to freeze to death when night falls because you were too stubborn to shed your clothes?”

“It ain’t about the clothes,” you snapped. “It’s about you taking them off.”

He smiled then. “Well in that case, I’m definitely doing it.”

He reached for you once more and you smacked his hand away. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why that made his smile grow wider. Quicker than you could stop him, he moved to your back and trapped your arms against your sides by wrapping his own around you. “I’ll tie you up again and let you drown out there, mark my words.” When you relaxed enough to show that, as much as you hated him for it, you would let him get this over with so that you could keep your hands free and get in the lake already, he slowly released you. “Good girl,” he purred in your ear. You debated rounding and punching him straight in the nose for it. But you held your temper down for the hundredth time and let him be.

He brought his hands to your coat, slowly pulling it away, and something about the feeling made you snap. You could barely shift your weight to do something about it before he had his hand around your throat and trapped you against his chest, speaking lowly in your ear. “Behave.”

You hated yourself for it, but you fought off a shiver at the word. Something about his voice, the demanding way he said it, the feel of his strong chest at your back…you didn’t want to admit what it did to you. Didn’t even want to think about it. You stood stock still and let the feeling pass instead, waiting for him to let go of you. He reluctantly did so and went back to undressing you without a word—something you thought was odd, considering it was the perfect moment to say something stupid like he normally did. But you didn’t linger on that thought for long, as the feeling of needing to get out from under his hands took hold once more. You fought it and let him be, solely for the fact that you needed to get in the lake and make up your mind about whether or not to run.

Arthur pulled your coat from your arms, rounded you and unbuttoned your shirt. He untucked it, meeting your eye with an annoying smugness when the action pulled your hips toward him.

“Can you move quicker than this?” you snapped.

“Am I bothering you?”

“Always,” you said under your breath, but he caught it.

“You better think about being kinder to me. I don’t have to allow any of this, you know.”

“Oh how terrible it must be,” you said flatly. “To have to submit yourself to undressing a woman. I’m just putting you out, aren’t I?”

“Really, you are. I’m being awful lenient toward someone I plan on seeing swing in a few days.”

At the mention of that, you clamped your mouth shut once more. Your anger got the better of you, and you decided then and there to wait for a better opportunity to escape so that you could take him down in the process. You considered slapping him silly too, but you needed to keep your hands free. You fought down the urge.

Arthur chuckled as he unsheathed his knife, waving it at you. “You try anything, and I gut you.”

You looked away from him, toward the lake instead as he crouched and cut the rope at your feet. The need to kick him in the face was so hard to tamp down on that you clenched your fists to have something to do with all that restless energy. Arthur moved to the buttons on your pants before pulling them down your legs slowly, purposely trying to get a rise out of you. It took everything in you not to give in, in violence or in words.

He finally stepped away and looked at you with a surprising amount of anger. You didn’t know what that look was for but didn’t care.

“You do the rest,” he said, pulling his gun out again.

You understood then—he wasn’t going to pull your boots off your feet like some groveling maid. That would be bordering on selfless, something that was beneath him. You rolled your eyes and took your boots off, leaving behind nothing but your chemise and a jittery anticipation for the cold bite of the water.

He should not have done this. He had made a grave mistake. Arthur was already warring with himself over whether or not you deserved to live, and this only made things ten times worse. He had been letting you swim over his own indecision, then undressing you to get under your skin, but it had had the opposite effect. He had pulled you into him earlier meaning to threaten you but found that he couldn’t get the words out, the only thing coming to him a demand to behave while trying desperately to hide what his voice was betraying. And now, he could barely get your clothes off of you before needing to step away, making you finish the job because he couldn’t take his mind off of his hands on your body. What the hell was wrong with him?

He circled back around to the fire, needing to clear his head and get his eyes off of you for a moment. It was a ridiculously foolish thing to do considering he had cut you loose, but he couldn’t help it. He would do something much more foolish if he didn’t.

He walked to the far side of the fire so that he faced the lake but didn’t look up as he heard you begin to wade into the water. Why was he acting this way? He knew he couldn’t let go of the disagreements of the gang concerning you, but it was more than that. It was the thought that after all you had told him about your past, you weren’t much different than him. In fact, you probably deserved a killing even less than he did. You would have fit right in with his gang except that you probably wouldn’t have even agreed to that, being too righteous to do such a thing. So not only were you innocent and scorned, but he was holding a good person hostage, playing right into the hand of the very people he had been brought up to hate. Where did that leave him?

He knew the obvious answer was to let you go, and he was seriously considering it. But all his pitiful attempts at riling you—not to mention the harsh way he had treated you the past few days—would be enough to anger anyone to violence. Especially someone as deadly as you. So if he did let you go, would you try to kill him for it? He wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself if you did and would be willing to bet you’d wind up dead at his hand. Then he would feel even more guilt over going after you at all. Maybe he could threaten you into leaving, acting angry enough for you to think you got off easy and take the rare opportunity. In fact, that was beginning to look like his best option when Arthur heard a splash of water loud enough to make him snap to attention.

Instead of trying to escape, you were doing just as he said to do—standing belly deep in the water and washing, nothing more. What’s worse, you had stripped your chemise off too, and he watched your bare back a moment too long before looking away in shame. He couldn’t tell if his sudden attraction to you was formed from guilt or from the realization that you weren’t much different from any of the women he ran with. You were better, actually. And he stamped down on that thought quickly, so as not to cloud his judgement further.

He let you stay in the water as long as you wanted, looking up occasionally to make sure you hadn’t tried to run, not knowing what he would do if you did. He finally decided he would make his decision about what to do with you tomorrow, trying his best to keep up the same threatening act he’d used on you so far to keep you from noticing he was at war with himself over it. That made him calm some, and he took a long breath and vowed to make the rest of the day a boring, eventless one so that he wouldn’t have to think about the mistakes he had made concerning you for another second.

Arthur soon realized he had a problem—you were naked, and you would have to walk back out of that lake straight at him. He knew in order for you not to notice anything was amiss, he had to act smug about it. He had to look you over with a grin and pretend like his heart wasn’t racing when he did. He hoped with all his might that he could do so convincingly. He didn’t have it in him to argue if you called his bluff. Not with all the guilt flooding him.

Soon enough, he did exactly as he should have, sporting a lazy grin when you began walking out of the water. He never took his eyes off of you, partially to convince you, mainly because he couldn’t. You were such a sight that his breath caught. He wished then he had never let you get in that lake—he wouldn’t be able to erase the memory of you all bare for the rest of his days.

He cleared his throat before speaking to make sure his voice didn’t shoot too low. “You gonna tie yourself back up for me or make me do it?”

You shot him a nasty look, beginning to redress. He watched your every movement as you did, gripping the gun still in his hand so tightly it hurt.

“I…thanks, I guess,” you said softly, but he didn’t miss the hatred in your voice.

Once you had your chemise back on and he could breathe properly, he spoke. “I didn’t know any better, and I’d think you’re trying to butter me up.” He stepped around the fire toward you. “To appeal to my…better nature.”

“I know better than that,” you spat. “You don’t have one of those.”

He chuckled. “Maybe not.” There was more truth to that statement than you could ever know.

Once you were fully dressed, you glared at him and stood stock still, leaving the cut up ropes at your feet. He got the message and kept his gun at his side as he approached, making you eye the weapon. Little did you know, he didn’t have it in him to hurt you with it. Not anymore.

He fished more rope out of his satchel and stepped behind you, tying your hands first. He was shocked you let him do it without a fight and was reminded of your silence when he had taken you from camp. Like you wanted him to do it, like you had bigger plans of your own. He had the feeling you were constantly weighing his every move, deciding what would benefit you best in an attempt to escape. He was thinking again that you were smarter than he cared for when he finished with the ropes and stepped away. You hobbled over and sat by the fire without a word, refusing to look at him. That was all right by him—he didn’t have to think about you quite so much if you weren’t nagging him like you usually did.

The rest of the day passed achingly slowly, and Arthur debated tying you to something and getting away for a while. He didn’t though, not wanting to risk you escaping and sneaking up on him. If it weren’t for the threat you posed, he would have gladly done it and prayed you were gone when he returned, nothing but a pile of empty ropes. It would certainly be easier on him.

He fed you again in the afternoon, warring with himself over doing so. You had eyed him with suspicion, and he knew it was only a matter of time before you called him out on treating you with such mercy. To keep you from doing just that, he tied you to a nearby tree when darkness fell, retreating to his tent without a word as you spat insult after insult at him for leaving you out in the cold. It was noticeably colder than the night before, and he figured it would send the message that nothing was amiss better than anything. You had a coat besides. You would be fine until he figured out what to do with you when morning came.

Arthur drifted off in the early evening and was awoken hours later by wind so strong it made the trees shake around him. He stuck his head out of the tent to see you sitting where he left you, still awake.

“It’ll rain soon,” you shouted over the roar of the wind. “Gonna make me sleep out here in it?”

It was all he could do not to answer you, or worse, to give in. He gritted his teeth and cursed himself as he closed his tent once more, inside and away from the weather, knowing he was damning himself every second he ignored you. So be it. He still had hours until he needed to make a decision.

The bastard had shut you out. You felt the first few raindrops fall cold and thick, their impact with your skin making you shiver. One slid down your back and made you pull at your ropes to change positions, not wanting to feel that iciness again. Then, like that had only been a taste, the heavens seemed to open up, the giant maw of the sky pouring freezing rain down so thick you started to shake uncontrollably. You reined in your tears, knowing how unhelpful that would be.

To your complete surprise, not even a minute had passed when you saw a flash of canvas—Arthur had stepped out of his tent and was marching toward you. Without a word, he rounded the tree and cut you away from it, not untying you but picking you up in his arms. He carried you to his tent, your mouth shut in total shock at his act. It was possible he only did it to keep you from freezing to death, but you couldn’t deny it seemed somewhat caring.

He ducked in and set you on the far left, leaving you tied as he laid down against the opposite wall, turning his back to you. That wasn’t very smart of him, but you were thankful besides. The tent wasn’t exactly warm, and water still dripped in in some places, but it was much better than sitting outside in the rain. The constant downpour was so loud it was even a bit relaxing now. You debated thanking him but didn’t, thinking that may be pushing your luck. You did, however, turn to look at the gun belt he wore. His blade and gun were missing, probably on his other side. You cursed your lot and turned back over, mad at him all over again. It didn’t make any sense. Why was he taking such care to keep you alive only to have you killed in three days time? Why was he suddenly setting you free to wash, feeding you, letting you sleep in his tent? The answer to that hit you like a train—all this wordless kindness started when you had taken your clothes off. There was only one logical explanation for that: this man wanted you. He was lying as far away as he could so as not to touch your rain-soaked body. He probably hated himself for it too, telling himself this would all be over soon, that the temptation would pass when he turned you in. But still, there was enough feeling there for him to drag you in here in the first place. That, you could work with.

You fumbled with your tied feet and got them under you enough to turn over, facing him. You scooted closer until you touched him, your body lined against his, making him flinch.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m freezing. You’re warm.”

“Get off of me before I throw you back outside. You’re wet.”

You nuzzled into him tighter, curling into his back, wondering if you could make him give in.

“Quit,” he snarled, sitting up. He shoved you away and took the bedroll out from under you, throwing it over you before laying back down with his back turned once more. Again, caring. But not enough to free you, not enough to convince him that what he was doing was wrong.

You evaded sleep and came up with a better plan, knowing you had hours to enact such a thing and the perfect setup—close quarters. You smiled. You would have him cutting through your bounds in no time.

_________

Part four is here.

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

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