johndeerequeer

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 13

Respite

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: none

Read on Ao3

The air was brisk when they stole away in the wee hours of the morning. 

It was quiet, the quietest she’d ever seen Saint Denis. A sprawling metropolis in comparison to her hometown, with a lively nightlife to boot. Dawn seemed to be the only time of day when there was truly nothing to be heard.

Mads and Arthur had only exchanged a word or two since they’d awoken entangled in her bed. She found herself positively sheepish every time she met his eye, like a giddy schoolgirl. 

Once they cantered over the bridge she finally worked up the courage to speak.

“So…I think last night went okay.”

Arthur turned his head and met her with a sly smile. She flushed a soft pink.

“The heist, I mean, the heist,” she added quickly.

“Yeah, we made out okay,” he replied, “I’m just sorry things got messy. I was hoping your first heist would've gone more… smoothly.”

“How do you know it was my first?” she teased.

“Well, pardon me, ma’am, I shouldn’t have assumed,” he teased back.

She chuckled. They were quiet for a bit.

 “And the rest of the night went okay?” she asked him, just barely making eye contact.

He chuckled lowly.

“More than okay, darlin’.”

She couldn’t contain her grin.

“Good.”

It was still too early for the rest of camp to rise yet when they arrived back. 

“I’m gonna change, I’ll be back,” he told her as they hitched their horses.

“Arthur, wait.”

He turned on his heel. She all but sprinted to cross the distance. As she reached him at full speed he scooped her into a warm embrace and swung her about. She giggled as her feet momentarily left the ground and smashed her lips against his. A surge of energy passed between them like a static shock. He kissed her like a man starved and her lips were the only sustenance he'd ever need; like she was all he’d ever need. 

They broke apart only when breath was required.

“Let’s go somewhere today,” she whispered against his lips, “just the two of us.”

He pulled back to meet her eyes and let out a sigh.

“I don’t think I can, darlin’, I gotta check in with Dutch. He’s been hounding me about this trolley station and-”

“Dutch can wait.”

He opened his mouth to protest. She brought him in for a tight embrace before he got the chance.

“Do something for yourself for once, Arthur,” she whispered into his ear, “spend the day with me.”

He laid a sweet kiss on her temple.

“Jesus, you’re too godamned tempting.”

She smirked as she pulled away.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she mused, “now go get changed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They took off shortly after they had both gotten into fresh clothes. The weather was perfect. Clear skies, shining sun and a glorious breeze.

After several attempts to assess where they were going which Mads refused to reveal, Arthur quieted down.

“Just enjoy the ride, cowboy,” she teased him.

They approached the outskirts of Valentine where Arthur was told to wait. She made her way through town collecting a few things for a surprise. When she returned with a rucksack slung over her shoulder she was met with a wary eye on Arthur’s behalf. She beckoned him to follow.

She led him to a ridge overlooking the heartlands near Twin Stack Pass.

“Now your gonna stand here with your eyes closed while I set everything up.”

“Mads, I-”

She tossed him a stern look. He closed his eyes.

She worked quickly to lay out a woollen blanket, some canned fruits, a loaf of bread and a cut of prime rib pork bound in butcher's paper and twine.

“Okay, open.”

He looked over the makeshift picnic with a soft smile.

“I realized I never got to repay you for what you’ve done for me,” she told him, “you saved my life again and again and… I wanted to say thank you.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, darlin’, I know anyone would do the same.”

“We both know that’s not true, Arthur,” she replied, “there are more people in this world that want me dead than would stick their neck out for me. So I'll count my blessings and cherish the ones that do.”

Something in the way he looked at her turned her insides to mush; a gaze as warm as the sun. She cleared her throat.

“Now, be a dear and build me a fire to cook this.”

He chuckled.

They basked in the afternoon sun while enjoying their meal. The view was perfect. They sat side by each as they munched away and gazed over the heartlands.

Thoroughly full and satisfied, Mads laid back to watch the clouds and Arthur joined her. They were both quiet for a while.

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s something I gotta ask you, and I want you to be honest with me.”

He turned his head to her.

“Shoot, darlin’.”

“You said you were trying to make up your mind about me, that I was making it difficult” she began softly, “what’s been holding you back?”

He sighed.

“It’s hard to explain, Mads.”

“I got nowhere to be.”

He took a deep breath. 

“Things like this haven’t worked out for me so much. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, to start somethin’ with ya.”

She kept quiet, willing him to continue.

“There was a woman, years ago. We were gonna get married.”

He sighed, slow and heavy. She could hear the pain in his voice and it broke her heart.

“But she was a lady and I was an outlaw, so you can guess how that went.”

Mads nodded.

“But you loved her?’

He swallowed hard.

“I did.”

“And she loved you?”

“I thought so.”

Mads thought for a moment.

“I think if she did then none of that would have mattered.”

He shrugged while keeping his gaze trained on the sky.

“The people that love you will stick by you. No one else is worth it,” she added with a small smile.

He turned to her and met her smile with one of his own.

“Can’t argue with that.”

She turned her focus back on the sky. She couldn’t help but think of her mother. Sorrow filled her features.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” Arthur whispered, his gaze having been glued to her.

“Just thinkin’,” she whispered.

“About your mum?”

She nodded as a tear escaped her eye. Arthur shifted over and brought her into his arms. She stifled a few sniffles. He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to; his touch was enough.

“What if I took you to see her?” he asked.

She turned to him.

“Aren’t you wanted in Blackwater?”

He shrugged.

“We’ll be careful.”

“But they know where I live, they still have my address.”

“They’ve ought to have came and when already.”

She stared at him as she considered it.

“I’m willing to risk it if you are,” he added.

“Why?”

“Because I know what it means to ya.”

Something ached in her chest. A thousand more tears threatened to spill. She hugged him tight before he could see her cry.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

#arthur morgan x original female character #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 12

Surrender

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: Smut (writing is on the milder side in terms of language and descriptions)

Read on Ao3

They approached her tenement without a word. He scoped out the surrounding area, keeping an eye out for lingering officers. She led the way through the front doors. They crept quietly up the stairs to the second floor. 

She made her way toward her door as she’d done hundreds of times before. Past her door and down the hall, the potted plant still sat there. She shifted the pot to retrieve her spare key. They crept in slowly and Arthur closed the door behind them. 

Her apartment was small, seeming smaller somehow after her time away. The smell of mouldy fabric and cigarettes hung in the air; comforting scents all the same.

Even in the dim light of the moon streaking through the windows, she could tell the room was in tatters. Drawers open, papers scattered, table overturned.

“What were they looking for?” she whispered incredulously.

Arthur grunted from behind her.

“Something to tell them where you'd run off to,” he suggested.

Something horrible filled her stomach. She rushed to her bed tucked away in the corner. The mattress was already overturned. Her lockbox was already opened. Letters from her mother she had so carefully stashed away littered the ground. She knelt to the floor and gathered the stack. One of the envelopes was missing.

“Fuck,” she cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“My letters,” she groaned, “they’ve got my mum’s address.”

Arthur approached and took one of the letters from her hand.

“What’ll they do?” she asked.

Arthur frowned as he fiddled with the paper.

“Contact the force in Blackwater, I suppose,” he said, “see if you’ve gone home.”

Her chest tightened.

“They won’t hurt her, will they?

“They ain’t gonna do nothing,” he told her. 

He said it was like a threat; a challenge. The notion comforted her more than anything else. His resolve eased her.

She sighed, fixed her bed and sat down.

“They’ll just tell her all the horrible things I’ve done,” she mumbled, “that her sweet Madeline’s gone and soured herself.”

Arthur sighed.

“You ain’t gone sour, sweetheart.”

“What makes you so sure?”

He sighed and a small smile etched onto his face. He walked over and stood in front of her.

“Because you’re one of the sweetest people I’ve met.”

He flickered his gaze about her face, taking in the runny smear of her makeup. He brought his fingers to her chin to tilt her head up to look at him. His calloused thumb traced her lips as he wiped away the leftover rouge. 

She pushed his hand away.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” she seethed.

His mouth fell open and pain knit his brow.

“Mads-”

“I won’t be toyed with, Arthur,” she told him, “make up your goddamn mind.”

He sighed and brought a hand to his face, rubbing his weary features.

“I’m trying, darlin’, but you’re making it difficult.”

A bitter laugh escaped her throat.

“ I’m making it difficult?” she all but yelled, “What's so difficult about this, Arthur? Either you want me or you don’t.”

Without another word, he took hold of her jaw and brought their lips together with a powerful impact. Body against body, lip against lip, they met.

She held him against her tightly. Her mouth parted to welcome him and he happily entered. A moan passed between their lips. He brought his hands to her waist and brought her closer. She broke apart only for a moment to pull him to her bed and straddle his lap.

Their hands roamed wildly, desperate to keep their hold on one another. His hands drifted down her back, pulling at the damp fabric that clung to her like a second skin. His mouth drifted too. His rough, shaven skin caressed her cheek as his lips dragged down to her neck. She tilted her head back with a gasp as she gripped his shoulder and the back of his jacket. 

She pulled away. He brought his gaze up to meet hers as she stared down at him. Her hands drifted to his collar, but she hesitated. He held her still as he slipped off his suit jacket. She loosened his necktie and unbuttoned his vest.

Once everything was said and done, he was left in his dress pants and half a union suit. Her hands splayed across his chest, her palms flat against him. She shivered as her fingertips grazed the chilled clamminess of his skin.

He brought his hands to her face, eager to reunite their lips. But she held back. She wanted to relish this moment. She pulled his hands away from her face and laid them at his sides. His gaze never left her face.

He breathed her name. 

She stared back at him as she began undoing her dress. He shifted beneath her. She held his stare, hard and true, compelling him to remain in place. He obeyed. 

She wanted to undress for him. To carefully peel away the exterior and allow him to know her, deeply and intimately. He watched in awe as her fingers roamed to the top hem of the gown. Gingerly, she dragged off, relishing in the gentle bite to her bare skin, tickled by the air, as goosebumps rippled across her back. She stood for a moment, pulling away the last ties and bows, and let it drop to the floor as she brought her gaze back to his. 

She waited patiently, as he explored her with his eyes, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. She had unwittingly waited for a moment like this. To bare herself before someone. To allow them to behold her at her most vulnerable and feel entirely indestructible.

He held himself utterly still, waiting for her say-so. She nodded and his hands shot to wrap around her hungrily. He brought her against him again. Their mouths clashed like opposing tides, pulling and pushing, dragging away and then mending together as one again. He dragged his calloused hands along the softness of her skin. Her whole body shivered with excitement. 

She held his face in her hands, memorizing the texture of his skin. The roughness and hard edges tickled her fingertips. She slid her hands past and through his shaggy hair. She combed through it with tenderness and then gathered it in her grip and held it firm. 

He moaned gently as she guided his head back, with a gentle tug of his hair, parting their lips again. Their eyes met, flaring with fiery devotion. She dragged a thumb down his mouth, grazing his bottom lip. With her arm draped over his shoulder, her hand still firmly gripping his hair at the back of his head, she allowed her other hand to float down his torso and land at the button of his dress pants. 

All at once, he stood her up and sat her on the bed. She sighed quietly as she laid back, settling into the worn mattress. He pulled away and stood before her. Much as she had, he undressed under her loving gaze. She watched, shifting in anticipation, as he revealed himself to her. She took him in intently, from head to toe, and everything in between. He was glorious, a sight to behold.

He stalked forward and brought himself above her. She grasped for him, eager to have him against her. Their bodies met and fit together like pieces of a puzzle. He took her chin in his hand and kissed her tenderly. She dragged her hands along his back and then brought them to the space between them tracing her finger along his chest. They both paused. He took a moment to look into her eyes again, as did she. He shifted, hovering above her, his hands bracing himself on the mattress, searching her face and observing her body, piecing together what she wanted from him. She brought her hands to either side of his waist and pulled on him gently.

He carefully knelt between her legs and brought his hands from the mattress to either of her thighs. He pulled her to him and braced her against his waist. She let out a gasp. He kept his gaze on her face as he went about joining them together, watching for her reaction.  Slowly, ever so slowly, he eased into her. All at once her breath quickened and slowed again; finding a rhythm, as did his hips. She whimpered quietly, drinking in this new sensation and allowing herself to acclimate to it. Her eyes fluttered close. As she shifted her hips, to make for a better fit, he gained in speed. She moaned in response, willing him to continue. 

Heat spread through her, as her body simultaneously relaxed and contracted. Her head lolled back as she let out a deep breath and subsequent moan. He kept a steady pace while running his hand up and down her thigh. Her skin buzzed beneath his touch.

His other hand wandered down to a spot of considerable bliss between her legs, which he kneaded with his thumb. Her breath caught in her throat at the added sensation. Each brush stoked a fire within her. 

“You like that, darlin’?” he asked, his voice deep and strained.

She hummed and nodded eagerly, unable to form the words. 

She needed him closer. She lifted from the bed and brought herself against him. Her face rested in the crook of his neck. The sounds he compelled from her filled his ear. He moaned in reply, placing a chaste kiss against the side of her head.

They moved in sync. Reactions became louder, more eager, as they came closer to the edge. She gripped his hair again, gently, and laid a kiss on his neck. Every sensation was new and untouched, but carnally familiar. They cherished the sounds that filled the air. 

A shrill, trembling cry escaped her throat. Her body went taut. She clamped onto him with a renewed vigour. 

“Arthur…” she moaned, a whimper seizing her throat.

“That’s it,” he cooed in reply.

Her nails dragged down his back as he eased her through the waves of utter bliss. It was not too long later that she felt him reaching his end as well, he continued his speed with greedy intent. 

A breath as deep and fiery as the pits of hell escaped his throat, followed by a resonant moan that rumbled like thunder. It was an entirely sublime sound, like music to her ears. He retreated from her hastily and allowed his spend to empty between them.

The tides began to calm and ebb at the shore. The both of them relaxed with a sigh as he gently laid her back on the bed. They breathed heavily and stared at one another. Her cheeks flushed red; both of them glistened with a thin layer of sweat. She tossed him a smile, which he returned. Neither of them spoke. They allowed the silence to wash over them. 

He stepped off the bed to grab his still-damp necktie and used it to clean them both up. Then, he reached over to grab the woollen blanket that had been discarded to the ground. He brought himself back down beside her as he laid the blanket over the both of them and happily brought her closer. He slid his arm under her head for her to rest on while the other dragged along her side, tracing the hills and valleys, the marks and stripes of her body. She melted under his touch and shifted closer, allowing the warmth of both their bodies to mix together. Her eyes drifted closed as the exhaustion took hold. He laid a firm kiss atop her head, his fingertips lazily drawing circles on her shoulder.

The two drifted off to sleep peacefully, bodies and souls thoroughly intertwined.

#mred dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 11

A Fine Night Indeed

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: violence/gunfight

Read on Ao3

“Now have a good time, but don’t lose too much money, or Gracie here will have both our heads,” Trelawny proclaimed as they strode into the hall.

“Whatever you say. Come dearie, let’s find you a place to enjoy yourself while I gamble away our money,” Arthur joked. 

She smacked his chest playfully, playing her part effortlessly. She’d always fantasized about performing on the stage.

“Don’t you dare,” she chided.

“Of course I won’t, dear, I intend only to do away with large sums when I'm spoiling you,” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes and leaned into him.

“Mr. Callahan, you will be the death of me,” she replied.

“And you for me, Mrs. Callahan.”

They wandered over to the bar and spotted a seat not far from Trelawny. She loosened herself from his arm, and he took every opportunity to lay his hands on her as he guided her to her seat. Her face flushed deeply as her stomach fluttered. In spite of everything, his touch never failed to send her reeling. It hurt all the more knowing he didn't want her.

“There, the perfect spot for my good-luck charm,” he said, his gaze shamelessly exploring her from head to toe.

She rolled her eyes with a mischievous smile. He flicked his gaze to the bartender.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” Arthur instructed, “and the lady will have one too.”

Her eyes shot to him as he leaned above her. She shot him a glare. The bartender went about pouring their drinks. 

She brought her gaze to the painting, hanging above the bar shelf.

A delicate Rococo oil painting. A young lady, reclined, sleeps in a field. A young man peeks around a tree and tickles her neck with a piece of straw.

She took a deep breath. Tingles of nerves spread through her chest. Arthur leaned in close.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya.”

She swallowed thickly.

“It's not me I’m worried about.”

The bartender slid their whiskeys to them. Arthur took a small swig.

“Things will go as planned,” he mused, “I trust Trelawny.”

She nodded with a sad gaze at her drink.

“Wish me luck, dear,” he offered louder, for the other patrons to hear. 

She turned to him. He paused for a moment standing above her. His eyes roamed her face. His charming façade faltered for a moment. Her heartbeat hammered in her chest. The flicker in his eyes sent goosebumps down her arms.

In one fell swoop, he took her chin in his hand and brought his lips to hers. She swallowed a gasp. Her lips parted and her head tilted as her mouth welcomed his. The bitter tinge of whiskey on his lips grazed her tongue. She brought her hands to his face with tender desperation, like he was her first drink after days in a desert. He pulled away gingerly after what felt like an eternity, but it still wasn’t long enough. Their eyes met and her gaze flicked down to his mouth, which was now liberally coated with the rouge from her lips. She stared at him with her mouth agape.

He grabbed a napkin from behind her, wiped his face, tossed her a wink and continued on his way to the poker table.

“Good evening gentlemen, Arthur Callahan. Sorry I'm late, I had some, uh… unfinished business at the bar,” he joked as he sat, wiping his mouth, making a show of what was keeping him busy. 

Her chest heaved as she watched him settle into the table and exchange his greetings with the other men with brash charm. She observed his every move, and every gesture, drinking in the chance to see him in action. Her gaze roamed him freely. She followed every flick of his wrist, every tilt of his jaw, every fingertip cascading over his cards. The way he let his hand dangle casually in his lap as he shifted in his seat, had her shifting in hers. She followed his occasional glance to Strauss who sat on a chair just beyond the table, making subtle gestures to Arthur about Blythe’s cards. She flicked her attention back to Arthur again.

She reminisced about the feeling of his lips on hers. A heat spread through her, down to her core.  Her eyes landed on his lips as silvery words slipped pasted them followed by a smirk. She frowned. He played his part and he played it well.

She turned back to the bar, downed the whiskey, which didn't go down without a fight, and then she waved for the attention of the bartender.

“What’s the sweetest wine you have?”

The bartender gave her a double take. He went about finding one and brought her some kind of red. She started to down it in large successive gulps. 

“My Gracie, celebrating your husband's win a bit early are we?” Trelawny drawled. 

She tossed him a glance as she continued gulping down the wine. She finished it with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

“Might as well spend the money before he loses it all,” she replied, her cheeks flushing red.

Trelawny chuckled. She waved the bartender down for a refill.

“If you’re looking to spill your dinner over the carpet as a means of distraction, I applaud your creativity, but I would advise against it,” Trelawny whispered.

“You’re the one who told me not to hold back, ringleader,” she replied hushed and indignantly. 

Her vision began to swim.

“That I did,” he conceded, “I’m sure Arthur would be happy for the opportunity to heroically sweep you off your feet when you can’t walk home.”

“I bet he would,” she grumbled into her second glass of wine, “I’d like to see him try.”

She went back to watching him play again, the alcohol fueling her fury. The round ended with Blythe having presumably won. The rest of the players at the table, save Arthur and Blythe, left. Things were going according to plan. She watched with intention now, waiting with anticipation for the outcome of their game. She could faintly hear their conversation.

“I would stick to oil, Mr. Callahan. I don’t think you have a future on the stage,” Blythe teased.

“You sound just like my wife,” Arthur jeered. 

Mads rolled her eyes and took another long swig of her wine. 

They continued on for a bit, exchanging words and shifting their chips. Arthur won, of course, much to Blythe’s outrage. He stood from the table and began to count his chips and casually belittling Blythe, as scripted, to egg him on. Blythe fell easily into the trap, his pride getting the better of him. He made claims about a watch in his safe. Arthur took a seat again and they continued another round. She watched before with intention, but now her patience was wearing thin. She was bored and waiting for this night to end.

“Hard lines, Mr. Blythe,” she heard the dealer say after a short while, “Mr. Callahan wins with an ace-high diamond flush.”

She was startled to attention and swayed with tipsiness. She watched the men wrap up their game as the pit boss approached to escort Arthur to the safe. He followed towards the door.

“Just one moment, I gotta tell the wife the good news,” he said. 

He strode over to her with a smirk on his face.

“Good news, Mrs. Callahan, you’re taking home a champion,” he teased. 

She flashed him a tight smile. 

“Beautifully done, Mr. Callahan,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

“Let me collect my winnings, and then I'm all yours,” he whispered huskily, as he leaned down and laid a quick kiss on her cheek. 

She did her best not to glare through him when he pulled away.

He strode away with the pit boss, with Javier as their escort. She promptly finished her wine, preparing to play the part of the helpless drunk wife as a part of their exit act. 

She sat quietly, listening to the bustling conversations around her. 

Illusory words passed inebriated lips. The usual artful yet empty conversations she’d been privy to during her employment while attending parties just like this for the company. 

There was a faint bang in the distance. Her stomach twisted. No one seemed to pay it any mind. 

She straightened, craning to hear possible return fire when Blythe himself strode over to Trelawny at the bar.

“Quite a game, was it not, Sir? Your friend seemed to be on a hot streak,” Blythe said to Trelawny as he approached, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

“So it would seem,” Trelawny replied. 

Blythe’s gaze flicked over to her.

“You must be Mrs. Callahan,” he said, “Is your husband always so lucky?”

“Every day he gets to spend with me,” she teased, slurring her words for effect.

“Ah, perhaps you were the reason he did so extraordinarily well,” he replied, “that or perhaps he got more friends at this party helping his chances.”

“I beg your pardon?” Trelawney interjected.

Faintly, in the distance, she heard Arthur call out.

“To the bar, Señor!” he jeered at Javier. 

She sighed with relief. They strode over while cattily chatting back and forth.

“Your friend is a no-good cheat,” Blythe accused with a smack of the bar. 

Trelawny gasped.

“No sir, my friend is not ‘a no-good cheat’, and I beg you to take back the insinuation!” Trelawny replied in outrage. 

Arthur saddled up to the bar and quickly took Mads’ hand to begin their exit. 

“There he is,” Blythe growled. 

Arthur threw a hand up in defence.

“Now, don’t be a sore loser, friend,” he replied, as he patted Trelawny on the shoulder to let him know it was time to leave.

“There’s something I don’t like about the pair of you,” Blythe seethed.

“There's plenty I don’t like about you, but I have the good manners to keep my mouth shut,” Trelawny retorted.

Before anyone uttered another word, nearby doors burst open, drawing their attention.

“There he is! Shoot that man!” a man yelled, barging in only wearing a union suit.

It was as if time slowed as she watched Javier whip around and fire at the other guard on duty. Screams erupted from the crowd. 

Arthur pulled Mads behind him as Javier threw him his rifle and went to retrieve the rifle from the dead guard. He pulled her around the bar and down behind the counter for cover as gunfire erupted. Glass shattered around them as shots hit the shelves and bottles of the bar. She heard Javier curse as he returned fire of his own. 

Guards shouted above the gunfire. People fled quickly.

She gingerly brought her head about the bar to scope the scene. One guard dropped after the other as Arthur took out his targets with deadly accuracy. She longed for her repeater. She longed to help.

“What are we doing? We must move!” Strauss called. 

Arthur turned to her.

“Keep your head down and make your way to the door,” he said as he brought himself to his feet, swung himself over the bar and fired rapidly to provide cover. 

She crawled over to the side of the bar and brought herself to a crouch.

“Come on,” she called to Strauss and Trelawny. 

They quickly followed her along the wall and towards the exit. Strauss started down the hall. She waited by the door.

“We must go now,” he urged, “they will follow.”

“I’m not leaving until they’re with us,” she replied.

“The boys can handle themselves I assure you,” Trelawny told her.

“You two wanna go, then go,” she sniped.

They waited for a moment, listening to the gunfire. 

“Damn it, we gotta go!” she heard Javier call. 

He and Arthur came careening through the doorway. Arthur took her arm and they all went running down the hall. They stumbled down the stairs to the outer deck. Strauss was the first to throw himself into the river.

“I hope you know how to swim, darlin’,” Arthur called and they went sailing toward the edge of the ship. 

The chill of the river hit her first. A glorious relief from the heavy heat of her dress. As she plunged below the surface, the layers of fabric dragged her down. She clawed wildly through the water, struggling to the surface. She finally managed to come up for air with a gasp. 

They made it to shore after a long few minutes. Her lungs burned; her limbs too. Bitter river water crashed into her mouth as she gasped for air. Arthur heaved her out of the water. A bubble of water caught in her throat. She hacked and heaved to clear it.

“You alright?” Arthur asked as he brought a hand to her arm and the other to her back as he firmly patted her. 

All she could manage was a nod as she finally cleared it and went back to evening her breath. The dress clung to her in a vice grip, like an anchor coiled around her, dragging her to the ground. 

“Well, never a dull moment,” Trelawny exclaimed. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Arthur replied. 

The men began tallying and exchanging their spoils. Arthur split the cash from the safe among them. He handed her cut. The rest of the men started on their way toward the carriage where Trelawny’s friend was waiting.

“You did good, Mrs. Callahan,” he teased. 

She stared back at him without the faintest hint of amusement. She brushed past him and made her way to the street. He retrieved his gun belt from the waiting carriage.

“Mads, where are you going?” he called.

“I’m grabbing some stuff from my place,” she grumbled in response, “Leave Walnut at the tailors. I’ll see you back at camp.”

“Mads, it’s not safe, they’re still looking for you,” he called.

She continued trudging in her soaking-wet dress. He jogged after her and grabbed her arm. She turned and pulled her arm away.

“The jig’s up, Arthur, I'm not your wife anymore,” she mocked. 

He pulled back. She quickly fished the ring off her finger and shoved it into his hand.

“Give this back to Trelawny for me,” she ordered. 

He sighed.

“Let me go with you to your place at least,” he offered.

She turned without a word. He followed quietly behind her as they trudged through the dimly lit streets of Saint Denis.

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #josiah trelawny #javier escuella

[johndeerequeer]

For those liking “The Pursuit of Greater Things” and wanting some visuals to match, I made a Pinterest board with images and quotes that provided inspiration for the fanfiction.

Mostly pics of Arthur that made me 🥵

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #charles smith #sadie adler

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 10

Showstopper

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warning: none

Read on Ao3

Mads didn’t have the stomach for breakfast the next morning. She leaned over her soup with slumped shoulders and pushed the contents of the bowl around with her spoon. The morning air was cool. She pulled her jacket tighter around her.

Arthur cleared his throat as he approached. She didn’t turn to look.

“Mads,” he greeted.

“Arthur,” she mumbled in reply.

He sat down slowly on the seat beside her.

“You sleep okay?”

She shrugged.

“Yeah, me neither.”

A moment passed in excruciating silence.

“Look, Mads, about last night-”

“I think it’s better if we don’t talk about it,” she interjected, “you don’t gonna explain, so let’s just… leave it.”

He closed his mouth and gave a small nod.

“Ah, Arthur! Wonderful, I got a job for you,” a cavalier gentleman called to him as he approached. 

Mads turned and met the man’s eyes.

“Oh, hello, miss. Who might you be you?” he asked cheerily. 

Arthur sighed.

“Trelawny, this is Mads. She’s a new addition to the gang. Mads, this is Josiah Trelawny. He’s a set of eyes and ears for us.”

He extended his hand to her. She gripped it expecting to shake when he turned it over and laid a peck on her knuckles. Her eyes widened. She offered him a tight smile.

“This may just be a meeting set in motion by the fates, my dear. I could use another player in this show, as it were.”

Confusion knitted her face.

“Let me explain, to the both of you,” he offered, as he sat at the table with them.

“Mads doesn't need to be a part of this,” Arthur said. 

“Well, at the very least, let her listen and then we’ll decide.” Trelawny offered.

 Arthur sighed and shrugged.

“Splendid,” Trelawny exclaimed, “Now, Strauss has scoped out quite the score. There’s a riverboat on the Lannahechee where some egregious amounts of cash reside. The joint belongs to Desmond Blythe, a gentleman who made a fortune in the hosiery business if you can believe it. He is quite the purveyor of cards, and keeps a hefty sum on this boat as collateral.”

Mads watched this theatrical man lay out his scheme before them like he was reciting a play.

“Now, a compelling setup indeed, but like all great shows, we need performers to bring it to life. This is where Arthur you come in my dear boy, and perhaps you Mads if you so choose,” Trelawny continued. 

She felt Arthur glance at her. She kept her eyes on Trelawny. 

“Arthur is going to play Blythe in a poker match, win with Strauss’ help, and when they escort you upstairs to pay you off, that’s where Javier comes in and you take whatever you want.”

Arthur began a line of questioning and doubts, to which Trelawny dexterously replied, reassuring him of the plan. She listened for a bit before she’d had enough of listening.

“Where would I come in?” she interjected. 

They turned to her.

“I'm glad to see you're eager,” he replied, “my dear, you are to assist in distraction, illusion and placating should it come to that. Arthur needs to put up a compelling performance, and every good performance requires a supporting role. So far it’s just Javier and Strauss. You would play his lovely wife, tittering after her boisterous, gambling husband.”

Arthur scoffed.

“Not necessary, I can handle the solo act. Besides, she’s wanted in Saint Denis, it’s too risky.”

“Not if she’s dressed in the finest and most eye-catching garb Saint Denis has to offer,” Trelawny argued, “No one will be the wiser, she’ll be hidden in plain sight.”

She thought it over for a moment.

“Yeah, why not?” she replied, “It sounds like fun.”

“Exactly, Mads. Innocent fun. The kind Arthur thrives on.” Trelawny replied.

Arthur scoffed.

“Armed robbery ain’t innocent anything. And it’s only so fun until you’re on the other end of the gun.”

“Ah, well you see that's the beauty of it, no guns are allowed on board, except of course for the guard. If all goes to plan, we’ll be a fortune richer without ever firing a gun.”

Arthur sighed with his arms crossed.

“Alright then.”

“Wonderful!” Trelawny exclaimed, “We’ll get the two of you dolled up for the occasion.”

They arrived in Saint Denis in the late afternoon. The sun’s glow cascaded through the trees as the breeze blew, the leaves glittering like sparks.

“I’ve a suit set aside for you Arthur, all paid for, and Miss Luella, you are free to browse the catalogue for the gown of your dreams,” Trelawny gestured to the tailor door as they approached. 

She smiled tightly. Arthur nodded and made for the changing rooms as Mads approached the desk. The tailor bestowed her with his catalogue. She flipped through, somewhat dumbfounded by the options. She glanced back at Trelawny.

“I could use some input.”

“Of course, my dear, let me show you what I had in mind, and you tell me what you think.”

He flipped through and pointed out a stunning, off-the-shoulder gown, fashioned with all sorts of lace embellishments. She nodded. It was beautiful.

“Does this one come in blue, like the gentlemen’s vest?” Trelawny asked.

“Of course,” the tailor replied, “follow me, madam.”

She changed into the dress and returned to the front to allow the tailor to do his magic. She couldn't help but steal glimpses at Arthur in his suit through the mirror. She caught his gaze trained on her before he quickly turned away. 

The next stop was the barbers, who styled Arthur’s shorter, shaggy hair with pomade and shaved his face clean. All the while, Mads was sat down in a salon chair where her hair was styled in a poofy updo, and her face was caked with heavy makeup, thankfully covering the deep purple hung underneath her eyes. She glanced in the mirror in awe.

“Simply gorgeous, my dear,” Trelawny complimented.

“I hardly recognize myself,” she whispered.

“Let’s hope the people looking for you don’t either,” he replied with a wink.

Once they were all finished, they hopped in the carriage Trelawny hired for their journey. She couldn't help but stare at Arthur. The blue of his vest offset his eyes with stunning intensity. His tanned skin looked even warmer and inviting. The soft sheen of his freshly shaved face glinted in the sunlight. She quickly averted her gaze as he turned to her. 

Trelawny filled them in on more of the details about the plan, particularly how they’d rigged the poker game in Arthur’s favour.

“And lastly, your performance. Arthur Callahan, you’re a brash oil man with money to burn! No shuffling and mumbling. Puff your chest out, get outside yourself.”

He poked his head in Mads’ direction.

“Gracie Callahan, you’re determined to enjoy yourself tonight, almost as determined as you are to make sure Arthur here doesn’t squander all the money you now share. You’ve only been married a year, the honeymoon phase hasn't worn off yet. I want to see a convincing performance tonight, you two are madly in love.”

Mads scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Which reminds me,” Trelawny exclaimed as he fished around in his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box, “Your rings.”

He handed the box to Arthur, which he opened to find two silver rings, one a simple band and the other a slimmer band embedded with a sapphire. Mads couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Very pretty,” she replied.

Arthur adorned his ring and pulled out the other. When Mads went to reach for it, he took her hand and slid it on for her. Her breath caught in her throat. He held her hand carefully in his, both resting on his knee, as they carefully examined their rings. The silver of the ring against the golden tan of his skin glinted like a dove in the desert. She relished the way her hand felt resting in his. 

“And Miss Luella, don’t hold back on the alcohol tonight,” Trelawny called, snapping her back to reality, she quickly removed her hand, “ Arthur will need a good reason to skip town without arousing suspicion once he and Javier are done in the office.”

She paused and leaned past Arthur to stare at him.

“What better reason to rush out than to care for his overly intoxicated wife?”

She snickered and shrugged.

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

They arrived shortly after, stowed their things and made their way over to where Javier and Strauss were waiting on the dock. Arthur brought his hand down to hers and placed her arm in his. She took a moment to process it, but leaned into his arm, getting into character as the dutiful wife.

Trelawny greeted Strauss and Javier formally, laying it on thick. They made their way over to the guard who stood next to the walkway entrance. They all exchanged greetings and strode onwards. 

Strauss and Javier went on their way to assume their positions, as Mads, Arthur and Trelawny made their way through the halls to the main room. 

“You seem unsure,” Trelawny mused.

Arthur sighed.

“Robbing a heavily armed riverboat without a gun tends to bring out the self-doubt in me.”

“These people are virtually idiots. This is simple stuff.”

 Mads, still clinging dutifully to Arthur’s arm, took the opportunity to ready herself for her upcoming performance by taking a few deep breaths. The heaviness of the dress weighed her down almost as much as the dread. 

The ship let out a few blares of its foghorn before beginning its gentle chug along the river. They waltzed through the doors, drawing open like the curtains of their debut.

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 8

The Spoils of War

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warning: hunting, skinning, and vomiting (can you tell Mads has a weak stomach?)

Read on Ao3

“You got plans today?” Mads asked Charles as she saddled beside him.

He paused his meal, caught somewhat off guard.

“That depends,” he replied, “you got something in mind?”

“I want you to take me hunting.”

He turned to face her and considered it for a moment.

“You like hunting?”

“No,” she replied, “but, uh, I want to try.”

“Okay” he thought for a moment again. “why me?”

She paused.

“I’ve seen you coming back with your spoils. I know you’re good at it.”

He nodded and then smirked.

“Don’t go getting a big ego. I just figured if I’m gonna learn, I should learn from someone who’s been at it for a while.”

“Learn from the best, you mean?”

She hit his arm. He chuckled.

“You gonna let me come with you or not?”

“Of course. But I'm not going easy on you. You’re skinning everything you hit.”

Her eyes shot to him as he stood.

“It’s all a part of the process. We use everything, no wasting. So you’ve gotta learn," he said. "every bit.” 

She nodded, though the thought made her stomach turn.

“We’ll head out in a bit. Go have some food. We may be out for a while.” he instructed. 

She settled at the table with a bowl of soup as Arthur approached her. Her eyes flicked up to him. 

“Morning,” he offered.

“Morning.”

“What were you talking about with Charles?”

“We’re going hunting.”

He nodded, watching her expression. They sat for a moment in silence. 

“What are you doing today?” she asked quietly between spoonfuls.

“It’s the mayors’ party tonight,” Arthur replied, “Hosea says we’re in the business of social climbing now it seems.”

She nodded.

“Until then I was just thinking of pissing you off for the day, but I guess that plan is shot.”

She snorted and coughed on her soup. He chuckled and brought himself to his feet.

“Alright, I'll leave you be,” he said, “be safe today.”

She nodded. He began on his way.

“Arthur?” she called after him.

She didn’t want him to leave, but she couldn’t bring herself to make him stay.

“Yeah?”

“Have a good day today.”

He smiled, as warm as the summer heat.

“You too, darlin’.”

Charles led Mads around Bolger Glade, a dilapidated civil war battlefield, as their first stop. It wasn’t far from camp and provided ample open space for spotting targets.

“Let’s hitch the horses here,” Charles said as he dismounted, “Best to keep some distance. We don’t want to spook them.”

She dismounted, paying particular attention to her form. She landed hard, the familiar stinging ache spread through her feet, but she pushed through it. 

“Here,” Charles gestured her over, “I’ve got supplies for you.”

He undid the straps on his saddle and handed her a bow and quiver with a good handful of arrows.

“A bow?” I was gonna use the repeater.”

“A bow is quieter. We’re gonna gather more animals by not scaring off the rest.”

She nodded with a small frown. 

“I’ll teach you. You’ll do fine,” he assured her, “You just gotta be willing to learn.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she sighed.

They equipped the rest of their things and made their way toward the fields. It was pretty, in a haunting sort of way. She could feel the history of the place echoing around her. She took it all in as they walked quietly. 

“So, tell me about yourself,” she offered. 

“What about me?” he replied. 

She sighed.

“Just, you, I guess.” she offered. 

He didn’t say anything. She sighed again.

 “How’d you end up with the gang?”

“They found me in the grizzlies about 7 months ago.”

She waited for more details, but they never came. She rolled her eyes.

“I see,” she answered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Hit and skin something, and then I’ll tell you more,” he said.

She scoffed.

“Fine.”

They stalked silently through the abandoned trenches, waiting to catch sight of their prey. She had seen things scurry by, too fast to identify, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later that they happened upon a fox. It was cantering around some bushes, most likely stalking prey of its own.

“Alright, you’re up,” Charles told her, his tone hushed so as to not scare it off, “nock an arrow, and then I’ll show you how to hold the bow.”

She fished out an arrow from the quiver and brought the tail to her right hand which sat loosely on the string.

“Alright now, bring it outward in front of you on your left. You’re gonna be standing sideways from your target, almost like you’re trying to stay out of the arrow's path as it lets loose. Stand firm, you use your strength to keep still as you aim.”

He demonstrated the form with his own bow as she watched intently, and then gave it a try herself.

“You got it. Now line it up, and draw back the string with these fingers. As far back as you can pull it.”

She did as he instructed. She struggled to keep the bow still. Her muscles weren’t trained enough to keep so taut. She lined up the arrow with the fox as best she could and then let it loose. It shot just above it, sailing over its head and scaring it off. She sighed.

“It may take a while,” he said, “but you’ll get there.”

They continued on their way and came across another fox.

“You want me to take this one?” he asked. 

She nodded.

With the ease, strength, and speed of a lion, Charles pulled out an arrow, nocked it, lined up with his target and released it, all in the span of a breath or two. The fox fell instantly.

“Am I meant to be moving as fast as that?” she asked incredulously.

“Not yet. That comes with practice. Take your time when you can, you’ll eventually gain the strength to move quickly.”

“Now when I gain that strength, is it gonna come with all those muscles like you got? I’m not sure I can pull that off as well as you do.”

He chuckled.

“Not sure. Maybe if you go at it hard enough,” he replied, “now let’s get that fox skinned.”

He talked her through the skinning as she tried her best not to look away. Once he was done, he stowed the pelt and meat in his bag, wrapped up in cloth. They continued on until they managed to spot a small pack of coyotes.

“Alright, here's your chance. Slightly bigger target this time,” Charles said.

She drew an arrow and got into position. She tried to breathe deeply and get a hold of her twitching arms. Finally, she let loose the arrow. It hit the coyote square in its back leg with a yowl as the rest scattered. It fell to the ground, whining in pain.

“What do I do?” she breathed, stomach filling with dread.

“You finish it,” he said as he pulled out a knife and extended it to her.

She stared back at him.

“I-”

“You asked to come hunting. This is a part of it sometimes. It needs to be done.”

She took the knife with a grave nod and brought herself to her feet. He followed after her.

“Do it quickly. A quick stab into the throat will do.”

She stood above the coyote, knife in hand, like the grim reaper with his scythe. She moved quickly in the hopes she could get it done before her mind registered what was happening. She brought the knife down firmly into its throat. Roscoe’s face flashed through her head. The memory in her body of bringing the letter opener to his throat gripped her. Her stomach churned.

“You did it.” He commended her. “Now it’s time for skinning.”

She took a deep breath and brought the knife out of its neck. The sight of the blood dripping from its neck was making her woozy. She groaned as she tried to keep her balance.

“Nice and easy, just like I showed you,” he said. “You can do this.”

She brought the knife down and began to slowly and steadily drag it across the coyote’s skin. She’d made her incision all along the body as he’d shown her.

“Now pull back, and start to loosen it with smaller slashes,” he instructed. “We want to keep the pelt intact as best as possible.”

The sound it made as she pulled the skin back rang in her ears. Her vision blurred.

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” she warned. 

Just as the words left her mouth she felt it creeping up her throat. She dropped the knife and moved away. She began to retch and empty the contents of her stomach on the ground a ways away from the body.

“Take your time.” Charles offered gently. 

She finished vomiting and wiped her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly.

He shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it. It happened to me the first time my father took me hunting.”

She chuckled.

The rest of the process was quick. She gathered the pelt and meat as he had and stowed it in her satchel.

“Alright, I've spilled my guts, it’s time to spill yours,” she joked.

He chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #charles smith

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 9

What Once Was

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: none

Read on Ao3

Charles and Mads returned in the evening. The bright chirps of crickets filled the muggy air. A layer of sweat clung to her skin. A dull ache lingered through her arms. 

She wandered about camp in search of Arthur, before visiting his room. She offered a gentle knock at the door. He brought his attention up from a leather-bound book he was scribbling in.

 “How was the party?” she asked.

“Enlightening,” Arthur replied, “how was hunting?”

“You gotta give me more than that,” she urged, “tell me about it.”

“You gotta tell me more about hunting,” he retorted.

“Why me first?”

“This street goes both ways, Missy,” he teased.

She sighed and sat herself down beside him on the bed.

“It went well. We wandered around Bolger Glade and Bluewater Marsh.”

“And what’d you find?”

“Foxes and coyotes, and some herons and muskrats.”

“How many you shoot?”

“I got a coyote, and two herons.”

There was a knowing smile growing in his face.

“Good girl. You skin ‘em yourself?”

“I did,” she replied curtly with a challenge in her gaze.

“And how’d that go?”

“Fine.”

He inclined his head.

"You're a terrible liar."

She glared in reply, before relinquishing the truth.

“I threw up.”

He burst out laughing. It was the loudest and deepest laugh she’d heard from him yet. She stared at him, a bewildered smile on her face.

“See this is why I didn’t want to go first.”

He couldn’t respond. He was still too busy cackling.

“You’re an ass,” she chuckled as she hit his leg.

“Aha, I’m sorry, darlin’, I shouldn’t laugh,” he said.

“Just tell me about the party.”

He cleared his throat and sighed.

“There’s not a whole lot to tell. At least nothing that you’d want to listen to. It was boring and stuffy. But there were fireworks, so I guess that was fun.”

“I wanna hear it all,” she assured him, “It’ll give me more opportunity to laugh at you.”

He nodded with a smirk.

“I deserve that,” he replied, “well for starters, Dutch had us stop at a shop in town and get all dolled up. Imagine me in a full tuxedo, that ought to make you laugh.”

“Oh I bet you looked awful,” she replied sarcastically as a smirk crept into her features.

He met her gaze with a glint in his eyes as they roamed her up and down for the briefest of moments. She cleared her throat.

“So what’s this ‘Bronte’ like? He invited you?”

“Indeed, he’s quite the charmer,” Arthur joked, “seems he was hoping we’d take out some trash for him.”

She nodded. 

“When we weren’t licking his boots, we were mingling with the who’s who of Saint Denis. I tailed a butler; found a ledger with some leads.”

She chuckled.

“I didn’t peg you for espionage, Mr. Morgan,” she teased.

“I know how to sneak around,” he replied brusquely.

She smiled and then paused.

“So how’d you enjoy smusing with the richest and most oblivious of Saint Denis?” she asked sarcastically, “It’s been a while since I had the privilege to walk among them.”

“They ain’t my kind of people, I’ll tell you that.”

They both giggled. He paused.

“You miss it?” he asked.

She looked at him.

“Your old life,” he elaborated.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, my old life, the one you found me in was kinda my new life,” she explained. “I’m originally from Blackwater. That’s not how I grew up.”

A few moments passed.

“How did you grow up?”

She met his gaze. 

“I- It’s not interesting,” she waved a hand as her gaze drifted to her lap.

“You don’t wanna tell me?”

“No it’s just- It’s not… I like making you laugh,” she stumbled quietly, unsure how to phrase it, “if I get started about all that it’ll ruin it. And besides, you’ve heard enough unhappiness about my life. ”

“Darlin’ you don’t gonna try and hide the unhappiness on my account,” he assured, “I'm very familiar.”

She stared at him, unwavering, letting him assure her; feeling his comfort envelop her. 

“Alright, like I said this street goes both ways. I’ll tell you about me and then you tell me about you. Deal?”

She nodded with a gentle smile.

“I joined up with the gang back when it was just Dutch and Hosea runnin’ schemes and rejecting civilized society. I was… 14? I think. I was a proper delinquent when they found me. Still am I guess,” he chuckled.

She chuckled too, easing in her seat, soothed by the warmth and ruggedness of his voice. A quiet sorrow washed over his features as he went on.

 “I lost my folks a while before that. My momma first. She got real sick,” he told her, “and my daddy… he went out swingin’ like the bastard he was.”

She nodded solemnly. He brought his eyes to hers for a moment, then back to his hands resting over his lap.

“Dutch and Hosea taught me everything I know. John too, he was even younger than I was. They raised us. When I was old enough, I started doing jobs, accruing bounties, and making a name for myself. Over the years, more and more of these folks joined us.”

“You’ve been at this for a while,” she noted. 

“You could say that.”

 “You were never…” she trailed off.

“Normal? No,” he chuckled, “I'm afraid life had other plans.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she chided.

She paused.

“You ever wish you could? Have a normal life?”

He thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t bother with ‘what if's.”

She nodded.

“Yeah, I could stand to do the same.”

She sighed. He gestured for her to share.

“My folks are still around. Well, I know my mum is at least, my pa… well I haven’t heard from him in a while so it’s anyone’s guess. I was never close to him, not like I was with my mum. They, uh, had a rocky marriage, to say the least. He was never happy. Mum swears up and down he used to be better, that he just changed because fatherhood wasn’t what he expected. Whatever that means…”

She laughed bitterly.

“You know at one point, I did think he was getting better, but it didn’t last long. It never did.”

She swallowed thickly, trying to keep the sorrow from her tone.

“He didn’t leave much money behind. He had stopped working a while before that. Mum was distraught, I-I hated him for making her so sad like that, and I still do… She was heartbroken.”

He watched her intently. His gaze poured over her like warm honey.

“When it was apparent we needed work badly, mum called in a favour with her cousin, and had managed to score my brother and me a job, working for Virgil…”

Nausea swirled in her belly, and her chest grew tight. She took a deep breath and continued.

”Matthew wasn’t happy. Didn’t like the handout apparently. He told me as much, told me I shouldn’t take it, that I didn’t earn it. I told him he ought to try making in a man’s world as a woman before he took the time to judge me. He pissed off and made a living for himself, up in Annesburg. ”

She took a deep breath, the stale rage reigniting within her.

“It's safe to say we haven’t spoken since. That was three years ago when I moved to Saint Denis and started working for Virgil,” she explained as she let out a shaky breath, “and you already know the rest.”

He nodded. They sat quietly for a moment.

“I can’t imagine what they’d say,” she said, with a frown, “knowing all the things I’ve done.”

Her gaze fell on her hands, fiddling in her lap. Arthur sighed, shifted over and laid a gentle hand over hers.

“It don’t matter,” he told her, “the people that love you, will stick by you. No one else is worth it.”

She sighed. He gave her hand a firm squeeze. Her gaze met his. 

She leaned closer, drawn to him like a lighthouse in a storm. His eyes glittered in the dim lantern light like obsidian. She let her eyes absorb every inch of his face, every line, every crease. From the freckles speckled across his cheeks from spending every day in the sun, to the scar on his chin she had yet to ask him about. She wanted to bring her hand up to his face, trace a finger along each of his features and commit everything to memory with her touch.

She stared deeply into his eyes as he stared back deeply into hers. She searched his face for a sign; something to tell her she wasn’t crazy. Something to tell her she should cross the distance between them and do what she so desperately wanted to do. 

A moment passed and neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Her heart pounded. A fire ignited. 

She cupped his face in her hands as she brought her lips to his. He gripped her firmly and laid a hand on the back of her neck. The force behind their lips was like an angry bull. She grasped for him, desperate to close what little space was left between them. She practically climbed into his lap. His mouth explored hers with a deep ferocity, as did his hands. 

Then, all of sudden, he pulled away and stood from the bed. The warmth from his body dissipated as the space between them returned. She let her hands fall from him, as her stomach dropped with disappointment.

“I shouldn’t,” he said quietly, his gaze drifting to the floor, “I- I can’t.”

She stared at him for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she swept out of the room.

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith #arthur morgan

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 7

Former Sins

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: brief panic attack

Read on Ao3

Rain pattered on the crumbling roof through the night. The rumbling of thunder rattled her bones. She lay awake listening to this triumphant chorus play through the busted window. The dim lantern flickered and swayed with the brush of the wind.

She turned over in the cot. Arthur slumbered on a mat at the other end of the room. She watched his chest rise and fall. She slowed her breathing and timed it with his. Her eyes traced the tanned speckle of his cheeks in the dim light. He radiated peace; his brows unfurled, jaw unclenched, hands untensed.

She imagined intertwining her hand with his. She imagined tracing the lines of his face with her fingers.

Morning came with the flutter of a lid.

She dressed painfully slow and trudged out of the house. Arthur was already up, wandering the camp, choring away, greeting folks good morning. He went about his business as if nothing had changed. As if yesterday was simply a nightmare to awaken from and simply carry on.

She watched him for a while, with nothing on her mind, slowly picking away at her breakfast.

“How you feeling?” Arthur greeted as he approached.

She shrugged.

“Better, I guess.”

“You sleep well?”

She smiled quietly with a nod.

“Listen, I got to head into town,” he told her, shifting his weight to either hip, “you gonna be alright for a bit?”

She chuckled bitterly, then brought a hand to her aching ribs.

“I’ll be fine,” she told him, “It’s not like I can get very far.”

He brought his hands to rest on his gun belt. His gaze travelled her up and down, dancing over the bruises littered across her cheeks and wrists.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya around.”

Her gaze followed him until he galloped over the hill line. The wind fluttered through the trees. The earthy tinge of the marshlands filled her nose.

“Madeline Luella,” Micah greeted, startling her from her thoughts, “now where were you hidin’ a name like that?”

Her eyes shot to him, and tension settled into her stomach.

“What?”

“Imagine my surprise when I strode into the station in Saint Denis for a new bounty, to find a familiar face, plastered on the wall.” he drawled, as he reached into his coat to fish out a piece of paper.

He smacked it on the table with deliberate force. Mads picked up the paper and scanned it. Her own wide and frightened eyes, captured in black and white, stared back at her. It was her wanted poster, with a $30 reward.

“Wanted for Murder and Escape from Lawful Custody,” Micah recited, “My, miss Luella, you have been naughty.”

Her eyes shot to him.

“Tell me the story,” he teased, “who’d you kill?”

Something dangerous bubbled in her belly.

“Why does it matter?”

He shrugged.

“Intrigue,” he replied, “you don’t strike me as a killer.”

She frowned and let out a deep breath.

“This bastard at Virgil steel Co.”

A light glinted behind his dark eyes.

“The steel tycoon?”

She nodded.

“You work there?”

“I was Walter Virgil’s secretary.”

Micah chuckled with unnerving excitement.

“I knew we could find a use for you, Mads.”

She frowned at him. He pushed off from his seat and circled her like a vulture.

“Come on,” he beckoned, “let’s tell Dutch the good news.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

Micah sauntered away with a smug grin. She sighed deeply and pushed away from the table with a grunt. She followed him as he approached Dutch reading on the side porch.

“Got an interesting lead for ya, Dutch,” Micah greeted.

Dutch closed his book and flicked his glance between the two of them.

“Is that so?” he replied.

“Mads here was a secretary for one Walter Virgil,” he announced, “the king of steel manufacturing.”

Dutch looked her up and down. She fiddled with the ties of her skirt with a frown.

“Well,” Dutch said, “tell me all about it, Mads.”

She regarded him carefully, while simultaneously flicking glares Micah’s way.

“Why do you want to know about it?”

Micah chuckled darkly.

“Money, sweetheart,” he mocked.

She focused on Dutch.

“You want to rob Virgil?”

“We’ve got a golden opportunity. You’ve got insight,” he stated.

She watched them carefully, measuring her words like steps in a lion’s den.

“I don't know anything,” she told them, “nothing that would help.”

Micah scoffed.

“Well we won’t know if you don’t share with us,” Dutch replied.

She took a shaky breath as she tried to think, trying to find a reason to say no. All that came to mind was Roscoe’s pale face, contorted in an expression of ghastly horror, with a letter opener in his neck.

“I can’t…”

Dutch sighed, rose from his seat and approached her with a tender hand on her shoulder as he guided her through camp.

“My dear, I understand your hesitation,” he began, “you feel like you somehow owe him, as your former employer, but I can assure you, he is not extending you the same kindness.”

Her eyes wandered the camp as they strode, a dark pit swirled in her belly.

“Arthur told me about your situation when you first arrived, about what happened to you. You lost everything. And, this old crone, is sitting on a pile of cash, without a care in the world.”

He brought them to a stop and looked in her eyes.

“This is your chance to tip the scales,” he urged her, “help us, and help yourself.”

They stood at the house. Tension rippled through her aching body. She forced herself to meet his eye. Her heart pounded. She mustered a deep breath.

“I can’t.”

Dutch considered her for a moment.

“I can’t help you rob him,” she stated, as evenly as her strained throat would allow.

The words hung in the humid air. Dutch swallowed hard as he readjusted himself.

“I see,” he replied, “I appreciate your honesty.”

He offered a small nod.

“You have a good day, Mads.”

Dutch promptly strode off. Her chest rose and fell quickly.

“That’s too bad, Mads,” Micah sneered as he passed, “I guess you’ll have to find some other way to make yourself useful.”

She swallowed the vile words she wanted to spit at his feet as he sauntered away.

All at once, just as she started feeling like herself again, she was coming apart. The thread had been tugged and thoroughly unravelled. Panic seized her chest. She paused for a moment to even her breath and held her ribs with a wince. She desperately pushed down the tears that threatened to overflow. Once her breathing evened again, she continued on her way and joined the ladies at their canopies.

“Is Sadie here?” she asked.

“I think she’s out,” Tilly answered.

Mads sighed. She glanced at the women around her. Tilly scrubbed away at the laundry in the wash bin. Mary-Beth and Karen fiddled with their sewing, repairing holes in tattered clothes. The weariness was evident on their faces.

“How can I help?” she asked.

The girls turned to her.

“Well,” Mary-Beth began, “Pearson’s been hounding us for help with the dishes and meal prep. You could give him a hand.”

Mads nodded and promptly made her way over. She spent the afternoon collecting dishes, washing, and chopping vegetables. She eventually made her way back to the ladies and offered an extra hand with the busy work Mrs. Grimshaw doled out.

Evening arrived as the chores for the day were fulfilled.

“So, what do you gals do for fun?” Mads asked weakly after a stretch of silence.

“You’re looking at it,” Karen mused, with her lips to the bottle.

“I got dominos,” Tilly offered.

Mads nodded and then rose to her feet and made her way to Pearson's wagon.

“Pearson, you got a crate of beer I could steal?” Mads asked.

He stopped his stirring.

“Yeah, there’s a few left.”

“You wanna take a break and join us for a drink?”

He waved a hand.

“Someone’s gotta feed these people. You enjoy your drinks.”

She nodded and brought the crate to the table near the ladies.

“Why don’t we make ourselves useful and get rid of these bottles?” she offered.

The ladies let out a laugh or two and made their way over. Tilly grabbed her dominos set and placed it on the table.

“Uncle? You want a drink?” Mads called to him under his canopy.

“Well now, Mads, I can’t say no,” he replied cheekily.

The group chatted and sipped beers around the fire. Mads and Tilly engaged in a game of dominos, which Tilly won easily. The night wore on slowly. Dinner came and went. Mads sat herself down by the fire once they were finished and sipped on her beer. The group began to disperse for some quiet before bed.

That's when Sadie finally rolled in.

“Where you been?” Mads asked as she approached.

“Shopping,” she replied, “I needed to restock some things.”

Mads nodded and shifted on her feet. Sadie watched her with a smirk.

“What? You missed me?” Sadie teased.

Mads rolled her eyes with a weak chuckle.

“No… I just-” she replied sheepishly, chewing on her lip, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Sadie nodded with a small smile and gestured with a nod of her head for Mads to follow to the dock.

“Alright,” Sadie replied, “talk to me then.”

They sat side by side on the creaky dock on the edge of the swamp. The cool breeze of the evening whistled through her hair. She shivered in relief as the humidity of the day eased.

“Dutch wanted my help robbing my boss,” Mads spoke finally.

Sadie turned to her.

“Oh?”

“I told him no.”

Mads pulled and twisted at the laces of her russet boots, a sour expression lingering on her face. Sadie watched her for a moment then brought her attention to the marsh with a sigh.

“And?” Sadie urged.

Mads kept fiddling, pondering her words.

“You don’t think you should’ve said no?” Sadie asked.

Mads sighed.

“It just… got me thinking I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself,” she told her with a tightness in her throat, “I don’t know how to make everything I had planned for myself, for my life, is gone. And now I’m trying to find my place in all this, but... I don’t want any of this.”

Mads watched the murky green of the river ripple and glisten in the moonlight. Sadie turned to her.

“What do you want?” Sadie asked.

Tears welled in her eyes.

“I want my old life back,” she croaked, “I want to wake up and catch the trolley and work for a rich pompous old man and make money for myself and visit my mom during the holidays and send money home to her. I want to be who I was before.”

Sadie sighed.

“Look, Mads, I know you won’t want to hear this but you gotta give up wanting that. The sooner the better.”

Mads turned to her as tears fell from her eyes, with outrage on her tongue.

“How?!”

Sadie sighed.

“You need to mourn what you’ve lost, but that’s not the same as wishing you had it back. Trust me.”

Mads sniffled and wiped at her running nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Sadie saddled closer and laid a gentle hand on her back.

“If you’re spending all your time wishing things were different, or trying to figure out how you could have changed things and not ended up where you are, you’re just torturing yourself.”

Mads breathed deeply.

“So what do I do then?”

Sadie thought for a moment, gazing at the swamp beyond them.

“Take it one day at a time,” Sadie offered quietly, “be grateful you still got a life to live and choices to make.”

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan smut #sadie adler #dutch van der linde #tilly jackson #mary beth gaskill #karen jones

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 6

Ambush

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: violence, gunfight

Read on Ao3

They’d been riding for a while in silence, having passed back into Lemoyne, when something began to feel off. Walnut let out a whine which brought Mads to attention, so she cast a glance at Arthur. He seemed to feel it too because his gaze began to dart around, his posture rigid. They both began to slow, wordlessly.

“Mads, I-”

“Hold it there, folks!” a man called as he appeared on the road from behind a rock face.

He was dressed in a black coat with a yellow handkerchief around his neck. They both pulled to an immediate halt. Two more men with matching handkerchiefs appeared from either side of him, and a few more men appeared up the road. Arthur brought a firm hand to the pistol in his holster.

“You look awful familiar, mister,” the man began, a rifle shifting carefully in his hands, “you wouldn’t happen to be one of the sons of bitches that slain my brethren, would ya?”

Mads’ stomach dropped. She looked at Arthur.

“The lady ain’t got no place in this,” Arthur mustered deeply, his voice laced with venom, “there don’t got to be no more bloodshed.”

“She ain’t got no place in this? She might want to think better of the company she keeps then, ‘cause I got a bullet with your name on it.” the man barked back.

Quicker than a lightning strike, Arthur drew his pistol and fired a shot through the man’s head before he could even bring his rifle to his shoulder. A scream escaped Mads’ lips as she watched the man’s head splinter to pieces. The two men on either side of him pulled back in shock and scattered to nearby boulders for cover, as did the men behind them.

“Mads, go! Get outta here!” Arthur barked.

She steered Walnut in the opposite direction. Arthur dropped from Chips' back and maneuvered his way to a boulder of his own while firing rapidly at the men, trying to give her the cover she needed to flee.

The sounds of gunfire filled her ears as she rode quickly, glancing back wildly to keep Arthur in her sights as long as she could. She turned her sights back to the road, just in time to watch another of the men approach the road, his rifle lined up to fire. She shrieked as she threw herself from Walnut's back, just in time to avoid the shot. She hit the ground hard, as the wind was knocked out of her lungs. Walnut continued running with a whine.

Mads clawed desperately at the ground to right herself as the man stalked towards her, having ditched his rifle, with a knife in hand. With a surge of panic, she launched herself at him, grabbed his wrist and sent the force of her whole body his way, sending them both careening to the ground. She landed on top of him and tried to wrestle the knife from his grip. Her other hand shot to his face as she jabbed her fingers into his eye. He screamed in agony. She wrenched the knife from his hand. Before she could strike, his hands shot to her wrists. They were locked in battle, his hands gripped her wrists with painful determination. With all of her strength behind this knife, it wasn’t enough. She was losing.

Somehow the thought of the repeater strapped to her saddle crossed her mind amid the chaos. She sent a glance down the road as Walnut cantered back her way.

She lost focus only for a moment, but it was the moment he needed.

The man sent his head full force into hers and sent her reeling backwards. The world clouded for a moment as she hit the ground. Specks of blue sky spotted her vision. Her heartbeat thumped like a drum in her ears. Tears spilled from her eyes, as the knife dropped from her hand.

“You ain’t worth the trouble,” the man spat, breathing heavily, “so do me a favour and keep still now.”

As he reached for the knife, she swung her fist viscously and it collided with his cheek. She brought herself to her feet as quickly as she could as she ran to Walnut. The man shook away his shock and brought himself to his feet, eyes darting wildly for the rifle he’d previously discarded. With only one good eye, he was slowed in his effort, which gave Mads the time she needed.

She reached Walnut’s saddle with the force of a train behind her as she quickly tried to equip the carbine repeater. She pulled it loose, pulled back the hammer, whipped around, and lined up her target in her sights, just as Sadie taught her. The man was in the midst of loading his own rifle when she sent a shot into his chest. He stumbled in shock as he lifted his head to her. She took a breath, pulled back the hammer, lined up again and this time sent a shot through his head. His body crumpled like a shattered vase.

The adrenaline that had rushed through her began to quell as the blood rushed from her head. It took her mind a moment to catch up to her body. She looked down at the repeater in her hands and let it drop to her left side in a lazy grip. Her knees begin to buckle as the shock took hold.

The sounds of gunshots from down the road had already been silenced. Her stomach began to churn as the worst flashed through her mind.

“Mads!” Arthur called as his eyes landed on her.

She breathed in relief. He threw himself from Chip's back and ran to her side.

“You okay?” he asked, the panic rising in his voice.

“I’m okay,” she replied quietly.

His eyes darted around her face as he took her in. Her nose was bleeding, her face was pale, and a deep purple bruise was forming on her cheek, but she was alive. Christ, she was alive.

He took stock of the scene that lay around her. He tossed a glance to the crumbled body of the raider she had felled. Her eyes met his, and she felt the warmth of tears streaming down her face.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he assured her as he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You did real good.”

She nodded as he helped her to her feet. He held her hand carefully as he took stock of her injuries. She felt the dull ache of her fall from Walnut’s back creep into her torso. She tried to breathe deeply and felt a sharp pain in her ribs, but couldn’t be bothered to address it as she lifted her hand to grip Arthur’s vest. His eyes locked back onto hers.

She pulled him close with great force. He quickly brought his hands to her back as gently as he could as he completed their embrace. She winced again.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he whispered softly.

The ride back to camp was unnervingly quiet. Neither of them could breathe a word. They galloped in at noon. They wore grim expressions as they hitched their horses at the post and dismounted. Sadie spotted them from across the camp and made her way to them.

“How was shopping?” she called as she neared them.

As she approached she caught sight of Mads’ battered face and Sadie stopped in her tracks.

“What happened?” She stalked towards Mads and brought a gentle hand to her shoulder.

“We got jumped by some Lemoyne Raiders on the way back.”

“Jesus,” Sadie hissed, “how you holding up, Mads?”

She didn’t speak. She pulled Sadie into a tight embrace.

“She fought one of the bastards off,” Arthur explained.

Sadie nodded and gave Mads a pat on the back.

“Of course she did,” Sadie agreed, “she’s a survivor.”

Sadie guided Mads into camp, Arthur in tow, and sat her down on a seat by the fire.

“Let me get you something to eat,” Sadie offered.

Arthur laid a blanket around her shoulders and Sadie laid a bowl in her hands. She sat silently, slowly gulping down her stew. She didn’t move all afternoon. She stared through the fire vacantly as life went on around her. The flames would falter and fade to embers, only to be stoked back to life with the prodding of a stick and another log. The blood slowly returned to her hands as she wallowed in the heat.

Evening arrived in the blink of an eye. Her body ached; her eyes were weary. She couldn’t summon the strength to move.

“Mads,” Arthur called gently as he approached.

Her eyes flicked to his.

“Take my room tonight,” he told her.

Her voice croaked from her throat.

“I don’t-”

“Mads,” he urged gently with a hand extended to her.

She nodded and took his hand. He led her up the stairs to his room.

She winced at the ghastly creak of the floorboards as she crossed the threshold. His room was drafty and run down, much like the rest of the house. Debris and leaves scattered the ground. The red of the painted walls had worn away and left behind a speckled mosaic. One of the windows, more accurately a hole in the wall, yawned open to the calls of the swamp. She practically melted into the cot, the blanket still hanging over her shoulders. Arthur tossed her a glance before quickly turning away again. He cleared his throat.

“Try to get some sleep,” he mumbled as he sauntered to the door.

“Arthur,” she called with a crack in her voice.

He turned to her and watched her cautiously. Her lip quivered. A sob escaped her throat.

He strode over and brought himself to a seat beside her with a sigh. They didn’t speak. The only sound to be heard was her sniffling and uneven breaths. They sat for a moment before he reached over, brought her hand into his lap, and held her hand in his. She let out another sob as she brought her head down to his shoulder. Her hand snaked around his arm. He laid his head atop her own. She breathed in the smell of gunpowder lingering on his clothes.

“Stay here tonight,” she pleaded.

“Mads I should-”

“I just-” she whimpered, “I don’t want to be alone.”

He sighed into her head.

“Okay, darlin’,” he cooed, “I’ll stay.”

#red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan x original female character #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 5

Big Spender

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: reference to hanging

Read on Ao3

“This here is Walnut, you’ll remember her from our jailbreak,” Arthur explained.

Mads approached and gave Walnut a gentle stroke on her head. Walnut was a rich brown Tennessee Walker.

“She’s gonna be yours for today,” he told her.

He undid his saddle from Walnut and swapped it with a much larger horse’s saddle.

“And this mean bastard is Chip,” he continued, “he’s temperamental, not a great choice for your first time. I’m taking him today.”

Chip was a hefty black shire with white splotches on his head and hooves. She gave him a scratch under the chin. He raised his head and gave her a nudge. With only the force of his stature, he managed to knock her off balance. Mads giggled as she steadied herself.

“Oi,” Arthur chided Chip with a gentle swat of his snout, “be gentle with her.”

She stroked Chip’s snout.

“You’re not mean are you?” she whispered to Chip, “You just look mean. But you’re just a big softie, ain’t you?”

Arthur smiled as he mounted him. Mads took a step back and made her way back to Walnut.

“You gonna be okay to mount her yourself?”

“I guess we’re gonna find out,” she replied.

She positioned herself as she had done before, and swung herself as she had done before. She still wasn’t as graceful as Arthur or Charles, but this time went much more smoothly.

“That’s it,” Arthur cooed, “you’re a natural.”

She beamed with pride.

“Alright now grab her reins, hold them firmly, but let your arms rest at your sides. You’re gonna be using these to steer, most of the time a gentle tug will do. You’re gonna give her a nudge with your heels, the more you nudge, the faster she’ll move. When she moves, you gotta move with her, don’t stay too stiff.”

Mads nodded as she took all of this in. She combed her fingers through Walnut’s mane.

They started slowly down the path and then gained speed as she got more comfortable. The ride to Valentine was beautiful. Mads rarely took the time to admire the scenery in Lemoyne or any of the territories she passed through. As they rode, Arthur filled the time with a few stories of the kinds of trouble he’d gotten into when he went exploring by himself. He spoke of the people he’d run into on the road.

“You’ve helped a lot of people, haven’t you?” she noted.

“A few. If I can, I do, but I don’t try to go out of my way.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said, “all of those stories sounded like you went out of your way.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just how I wanted it to sound. It all seems more impressive, and it really charms the ladies,” he replied with a wink.

She chuckled. A thought struck her and before she could think better of it the words were leaving her mouth.

“Were you going out of your way for me?”

He glanced back at her for a second. He opened his mouth as he thought it over.

“I mean… it weren’t that tough a gig all things considered.”

“A jailbreak and a shootout weren’t a tough gig?” she asked incredulously.

He chuckled. A deep, rumbly chuckle she could feel vibrate in her ears.

“Nah, not really.”

She scoffed. The pure insanity of riding alongside an outlaw who broke her out of jail like it was nothing. She was living a life that a week ago she would never have imagined in her most exciting fantasies.

“I never asked,” she spoke up after a pause, “why’d you break me out?”

“Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, why’d you bother?”

He sighed.

“You want the honest truth?”

She nodded.

“I wasn’t gonna bother,” he said, “but I changed my mind.”

She watched him for a moment.

“What changed your mind?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking that the next time I'd come back to the station, I’d find you hanging in your cell.”

The thought sent shivers down her spine.

“Like I said, if I can, I do. I knew I could get you out of there, so I did.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“What if I deserved to die there?”

He turned to meet her eyes quickly.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know what I believe,” she sighed, “what I do know is there was a time when I couldn’t fathom taking a man’s life, let alone living with myself having done it. And yet… here I am.”

Arthur frowned as he regarded her, but he said nothing in response. They fell in silence for the rest of the ride and arrived in Valentine within the hour.

“This shop here,” Arthur pointed out, “this is the general store, they got a small selection of clothes.”

They slowly approached and hitched their horses out front.

“Here,” Arthur stopped her as she approached.

He fished out a bundle of cash from his satchel and extended to her. She couldn’t quite muster the motivation to reach for it.

“I can’t…”

He scoffed gently.

“You got a wad of cash stashed on you that I don’t know about?” he asked sarcastically.

He took her hand and firmly stowed the cash in her palm.

“I told you this gang looks out for each other, and I meant it. You’re one of us now. I understand you don’t like the handout, but that’s all the more motivation for you to find a way to pull your weight, but you can’t do that empty-handed.”

She sighed in defeat and shoved the cash into her pocket.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

Her cheeks flushed.

”There should be plenty there to get yourself a proper wardrobe. I’ll wait out front for ya.”

She nodded and made her way into the shop. She greeted the shopkeeper and informed him of her needs. She perused the catalogue and made note of the items that interested her. The shopkeeper brought out a pad of paper to jot down her requests. He gathered the clothes for her to try on in their changing stall. She assessed that everything was to her liking before changing back into her original blouse and skirt. She couldn’t help but note the faint stains riddled amongst her current clothes with a frown.

The shopkeeper gathered the clothes into a bag for her and then began to tally up the total. Her gaze drifted out the window and she spotted Arthur leaning against the post on the front porch. They made eye contact and gave each other a small nod. The shopkeeper took notice.

“That your husband, ma’am?” he asked.

She chuckled to herself.

“Perhaps you should call him in to get his say on all this before you make your final purchase.”

Her eyes shot to the man, accompanied by a scowl. She thought for a moment.

“Actually, I’m his mistress. He’s buying me all this so I don’t tell his wife about us,” she stated matter of factly, “he’s gonna be happy about what I’ve bought if he knows what’s good for him.”

The shopkeeper's mouth clamped shut as he stared at her in shock. She smiled to herself, overflowing with satisfaction having shut the man up. He went back to tallying the total and then she handed over the appropriate amount once he’d finished.

“Thank you,” she said as she grabbed the bag and made her way to the door.

She paused.

“I’m probably gonna tell his wife anyway,” she said, pretending to consider it, “It’s only right.”

Arthur’s gaze flicked to her as she waltzed toward him with a prideful smirk.

“Got everything you wanted?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips as well.

She nodded and tried to fight the laughter creeping up her throat to no avail. She started to cackle as she walked over to Walnut.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied through her laughter.

Arthur stared at her, slightly bewildered. He tried to fight a grin from spreading across his face as she laughed herself silly. She finally quelled the laughter.

“It’s good to see you enjoying yourself,” he said as he approached Chip.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “It feels good.”

They slowly made their way down the path back the way they came. It wasn’t until they got good and out of Valentine that she realized she’d missed something.

“Oh shit,” she muttered.

“What is it?” he asked, shooting to attention.

“Oh. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” she replied sheepishly.

“Oh hell no. You only get to keep so many thoughts to yourself, woman. Spill,” he commanded.

“I just- Sadie suggested I take a look at repeaters while we were out, and I forgot. It’s fine. It’s probably better that I didn’t.”

Arthur thought quietly to himself.

“Hold up a sec,” he said as he pulled Chip to a stop.

She looked back and pulled Walnut to a stop as well.

“Honestly, Arthur, we don’t need to go back. It doesn’t matter,” she offered.

He swung himself off Chip and turned to his saddlebags and his stowed weapons. He looked over his weapons with careful consideration, and then grabbed one of the rifles. He walked over to her.

“Arthur, It was ridiculous enough to get you to buy me one, I’m not taking one from you.”

“You ain’t taking anything, I’m giving it to you.”

He strode over, and began to unbuckle the strap of her saddle to stow the rifle. She grabbed his wrist firmly and his head tilted up to meet her gaze. He stopped what he was doing.

She looked him dead in the eye, a stern look on her face. The gaze that met hers sent a shiver up her spine.

“Mads…” he began, his voice hushed and gravelly, “I want you to have this. It’s a gift. It's an old Carbine, i was probably gonna replace it soon anyway.”

She began to soften the grip on his wrist and slowly let go. He nodded and began to stow it again. When he was done, he looked back up at her. Her eyes had never left him. They stared at each other in quiet contemplation.

Without a word, he got back on Chip and they began on their way again.

With a few discreet breaths, she tried to quell the fluttering deep within her belly.

#arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan #red dead redemption arthur #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 4

Play Your Cards

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: Attempted SA mentioned

Read on Ao3

The Van der Linde gang. A few days ago she was working her ass off for a stuffy old man who hardly remembered her name. Now she was a fugitive on the run, living amongst a dying breed of outlaws, washing her laundry in a marsh. She heard about gangs like this when she was young. These daring, thrilling, swashbuckling tales of gunslingers in the west were swapped happily amongst her childhood friends.

The first few days of acquainting herself with this new frontier were slow, but it was a pace she was grateful for. The folks around her came and went, living their lives as if nothing was different and, for them, nothing was. She kept to herself most of the time, finding it difficult to settle into place amongst them.

She gave her clothes a thorough scrub on the washboard in the swampy edges of the Lannaheche before hanging them up to dry. As she wandered back to the house, she approached a woman lounging on the porch of the house, oiling a rifle with great attention. She was one of the people she had yet to get the name of. Her long blonde locks swayed in the breeze. Her stern expression softened as she passed her.

“Mornin’,” she greeted quietly.

The woman nodded politely. Mads hesitated at the door.

“Mads, right?” the woman inquired.

She turned to her, startled, and nodded in reply.

“I’ve heard about you, I guess we never met proper. I’m Sadie, Sadie Adler,” she greeted in a warm, raspy voice.

“It’s good to meet you,” she replied.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna stick around,” Sadie told her.

Mads cleared her throat with a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“I suppose that’s why I'm still here,” Sadie replied with a chuckle.

A smile crept into Mads features as she wandered over to her.

“That’s beautiful,” Mads noted, gesturing to her rifle.

The blackened steel glinted in the morning sun, freshly oiled, offset by a yellow leather wrapping. Sadie nodded, turning it over in her hands.

“You ever shoot before?” Sadie asked after a pause.

Mads shook her head.

“Well, let’s change that.”

She stowed her rifle on her shoulder and beckoned Mads to follow her. They wandered beyond the caravan of wagons to the open field nearby. A pile of crates lay scattered before them. Sadie rummaged through one and fished out an arm full of empty beer bottles. She began lining them on one of the crates.

“I found these make for great target practice,” she explained, “I figure we get some practice in while you tell me about yourself.”

Mads watched her set up their targets as anxiety clenched her belly in a tight fist.

“What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to share, I suppose,” Sadie answered as she approached her with rifle extended to her, “but first, let me walk you through this.”

Mads reached hesitantly and laid her grip on it. Sadie didn’t let go but pointed her finger at the base of the gun.

“This here is a Carbine Repeater. You got your trigger, your hammer and your sight. These are the more important bits. You’re gonna hold it like so.”

She pulled back and demonstrated.

“You’re gonna pull back on the hammer here to load it. You’re gonna look down your sight, whatever you’re looking to hit should line up with this bit here. You’re gonna take a breath, let it go, and fire by pulling the trigger,” she instructed and then handed Mads the rifle.

She adjusted her grip and gave the gun a once over. She pulled it to her right shoulder and tried to emulate the way Sadie held it.

“That’s right,” Sadie cooed. She hollered a word of warning to the rest of camp before nodding to her.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Mads sucked in a deep breath. She pulled back the hammer and felt the bullet load into place. She lined the sight up with one of the bottles and fired. The sound rang in her ears. The shot shattered the bottle into a multitude of shrapnel. The force pulsed through her whole body and rattled her teeth.

“Well done! You’ll start to get used to it,” Sadie said, “It took me a while.”

Mads extended the rifle back to her.

“You can keep going if you like,” she offered, “you still gotta tell me why you’re here.”

Mads cleared her throat and pulled the rifle back into position.

“I, uh- there was an accident at my work. This guy tried to-”

She lowered the rifle with a frown.

“He tried to force himself on me, and I…I,” she stumbled.

“You killed him?” Sadie affirmed more than asked.

Mads nodded, her stomach turning at the thought.

“I was arrested,” she mumbled gravely, “and I made some enemies it seems. Arthur and Charles broke me out before they got the chance to finish me off.”

Sadie nodded solemnly. The words hung in the air like a fetid stench stinging her nose. The guilt began to eat at her again.

“I didn’t want to- I didn’t mean-” Mads tried to say.

“Mads, you don’t got to explain yourself,” Sadie interjected, “a lot of the folks around here got stories like that.”

Sadie shifted with her hand resting on her belt.

“Hell, me, I lived a simple, honest life before all this with my husband, Jake,” she told her, swallowing thickly before she went on, “some degenerates came a knocking one day and took him from me. That’s when the gang found me. Sometimes life don’t give you a choice with stuff like this. Stuff happens to you, and it changes everything.”

“So what did you do?” Mads asked.

Sadie sighed. A heaviness hung on her shoulders.

“Nothing… at first. I was a mess. Thank god for the gang, Abigail especially, they pulled me out of the hole I was in,” she trailed off, “now… I guess I’ve been tryna make something outta the cards I was handed.”

Mads nodded.

“You have the opportunity now to do the same,” Sadie added.

Mads lined up the rifle again and fired off a few more shots; taking a few attempts to finish off her targets.

“Get Arthur to take you into town, get yourself the things you need,” she told her “that’s what I did.”

She handed the rifle back to Sadie.

“I-I don’t wanna trouble him,” she replied sheepishly.

“He’s not as mean as he looks,” Sadie told her, “he broke you outta jail, he can stand to take you shopping.”

Mads chuckled.

“And get yourself a repeater while you’re there, if you fancy,” Sadie added, “It suits you.”

She scoffed at the ludicrous idea.

“I’m serious,” Sadie chided, “and then come find me if you wanna get some practice in with it.”

She wandered back into camp and came upon Arthur downing some breakfast by the fire. She paused for a moment and watched quietly. The urge to walk away and disappear inside herself was potent. She forced herself to approach him.

“Morning,” she greeted quietly.

He turned with a small smile.

“Mornin’,” he replied.

“I got a favour to ask,” she began, fiddling with the ties on her skirt.

“Okay?”

“You mind taking me for a supply run?”

“A supply run,” he mulled the words along his tongue.

“Sadie said you’d be a good person to ask.”

“Did she now?”

“She said you took her shopping once.”

“What I did was let her tag along on a mail run. She’s the one who decided to go buck wild in the store and buy herself a whole wardrobe.”

Mads chuckled and then paused.

“You don’t have to, I didn’t wanna bother you-“

“Nah, it’s no bother, I’ll take you to Valentine, and we’ll get you fixed up.”

“Valentine? Why Valentine?”

“Well, I figure neither of us is actively wanted there so…”

She nodded with a frown.

“Okay,” she said finally, “Valentine it is.”

#arthur morgan x original female character #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead fanfic #sadie adler #arthur morgan fanfiction

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 3

Welcome Wagon

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: Brief reference to an attempted sexual assault

Read on Ao3

The night was still young when they had arrived at this curious camp hidden amongst the bushy outskirts of Saint Denis. She was almost certain she’d heard about this dilapidated mansion, called ‘Belle’ something, last she heard it was occupied by Lemoyne Raiders.

Her eyes darted quickly amongst the people they passed as Charles led her to the cluster of tents to the right of the house. The last thing she needed was to be broken out of jail just to be held captive by Raiders.

They approached an older woman, wearing a sour expression, sat at a table, focused intently on a cross-stitch wheel. She sat across from a younger, blonde woman nursing a beer. Reading just a ways away, was an even younger, bright-eyed woman, with dark hair and dark skin, sat under her canopy.

Charles cleared his throat.

“Miss Grimshaw, Karen, Tilly. This is Mads, she’s gonna be staying with us for a bit,” he greeted.

The women glanced at him and then at her. Their wary eyes fell upon her disheveled hair, bloody shirt and tired eyes.

“Oh my,” Miss Grimshaw replied, her eyebrows raising in surprise, “well, hello Mads.”

She stood from her seat and made her way over. Mads met her eyes and nodded.

“I thought she could use a bath,” Charles explained, “she’s had a rough night.”

Miss Grimshaw glanced between the two of them, wariness on her features.

“Yes, I think you’re right,” she responded after a beat, “and a fresh set of clothes.”

It was grossly apparent Mads had failed in her attempt to wipe herself clean.

“Tilly, get a pot of water going on the fire. This miss needs a proper warm bath,” Grimshaw sniped over her shoulder, “and Charles, fetch the tub from out back and bring it up to Dutch’s room. I’m sure he won’t mind us extending a little hospitality on his part.”

Miss Grimshaw turned back and rummaged through the wagon behind her, grabbing a bar of soap and some towels. She wheeled back around and took Mads’ shoulder in a firm grasp with her free hand as she started guiding her towards the house.

“Oh, and Karen,” she paused, “fetch a nightgown.”

Everyone nodded and went about their respective tasks as Miss Grimshaw led Mads to Dutch’s room. She parked her on the bed and began checking the lock on the second set of doors and pulling the curtains. Charles arrived shortly with the steel tub, and Karen after with the nightgown. Mads lost focus as Miss Grimshaw prepared everything, doling out some more orders in the process. After a short while, the bath was prepared.

“Right, now missy, shall I leave you to it?” she asked, pulling Mads from her thoughts.

Her head shot up, and her mouth opened to speak, but yet again, nothing came out.

“I’ll take a ‘yes, ma’am’ and I’ll be on my way,” she jeered, “And a ‘thank you’ for the trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” she replied meekly.

Miss Grimshaw nodded and made her way to the door.

“Now, this door locks from the inside, so you lock it if you like while you wash,” she offered before she swished out of the room and shut the door behind her.

Mads sat quietly for a few moments before she pushed off from the bed and made her way to the door. She slid the bolt in place and wandered back to the tub. She began to undress when her hands traced up the smooth, worn leather of Arthur’s jacket. She stopped and revelled in the warmth a bit longer before she stripped it away. Slowly and gingerly, she peeled off the clothes that were practically sticking to her skin. She tossed them to the floor and climbed in.

With the soap clasped in her trembling grip she started a lather in her hands. She scrubbed every inch of her body and scalp with a fervor, as though she were washing herself of the guilt that clung to her like a sickness. But nothing could scrub it away, much less a bar of soap.

After she rinsed herself, she sat quietly for a moment. She wallowed in warmth of the bath, granting her a moment of respite. But soon as her hands stilled, her mind wandered to the events of the last two nights. No rest for the wicked, she supposed.

She heaved herself out of the tub. She dried herself thoroughly and pulled on the nightgown, as well as Arthur’s jacket. She savoured the hug of the leather bracing around her, and the scent of smoke and musk wafting to her nose. She gathered her dirty clothes by the door, unlocked it, swung it open and then turned back to grab the tub.

She strode as steadily as she could through the door towards the stairs when she met the bright blue eyes of a dark-haired woman on the other side of a crumbling wall.

“You must be Mads,” she greeted, “oh, John, get off your lazy ass and go help her with that tub, no business for her to be lugging that all by herself.”

John, startled, let out a gravelly ‘huh?’, and then gathered to his feet. He stalked around the wall to the door.

“I- You don’t-” Mads started.

“It’s no worry, miss, I got it,” he answered as he took the tub out of her hands.

She gave him a small nod as he passed and made his way down the stairs. The woman also made her way to the door and extended her hand to Mads.

“I’m Abigail, that’s my… husband, John. And that's our son in there, Jack, he’s out cold at the moment, you can meet him later,” she offered warmly as they shook hands.

“It’s good to meet you,” Mads offered back.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she said as Abigail retreated to their room.

She gingerly made her way down the stairs and offered her thanks to John on his way back in. Then she tiptoed out the front door, and froze, unsure of her next move. Her eyes danced along her surroundings. There were people gathered around a fire nearby, eating soup and chatting, with one man gently strumming a guitar. Words passed around cattily.

“Mads,” Charles called to her.

He sat at the table by the fire, sharpening a knife. She swallowed her fear and sauntered over.

“How you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” she told him, willing herself to believe it.

She took a seat at the table.

“I’ll get you some stew.”

“Oh… thanks,” she replied.

Charles wandered off, leaving Mads to stare at her hands, resting on her dirty clothes.

“My, oh my, what do we have here?” a man drawled from behind her.

She almost jumped out of her skin. A blonde, moustached man slid onto the seat next to her.

“And who might you be?” he inquired with a glint in his eye.

She cleared her throat.

“Uh, I’m Made- Mads,” she stammered in reply.

He flashed a smarmy grin her way. She could feel a rock settle in her stomach, as the very familiar sensation of unease overtook her.

“Micah, I see you’ve met Mads” Charles regarded curtly as he approached, a bowl of stew in hand.

“Yes, we were just gettin’ to know each other. I was about to ask what brought her into camp,” he commented.

“Arthur and I noticed she was in a spot of trouble and helped her out,” Charles answered.

She swallowed thickly.

“My, what a lovely idea. Just what we needed, more mouths to feed,” Micah jabbed.

She flicked her gaze to her hands again, shifting with discomfort.

“Ah, gentlemen, are we helping our guest settle in?” Dutch called from a ways away.

“Of course, as the hospitable gentlemen that we are,” Micah replied as he rose from his seat, donning a sickly sweet demeanour, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mads.”

She offered a small nod, then turned in her seat and laid eyes on Arthur.

“Folks, if I could have your attention for a moment,” Dutch called to the people gathered nearby, “I know some of you have already met our guest, but for those that haven’t, this is Mads. I’d like you all to make her feel at home, just as you always do.”

Some nods and quiet words passed between them. Dutch gave Arthur a pat on the back and a nod to Mads, before going on his way. Arthur lowered himself onto the seat where Micah had sat with a bowl of stew for himself.

“How you feelin’?” he offered with a gentle pat on her back.

She tensed for a moment but forced herself to relax.

“Better,” she responded.

She dragged the bowl of stew towards her and ate quietly. She allowed the world to fade around her, focusing intently on her meal. Arthur sat quietly next to her while scribbling in a leather-bound journal. Charles eventually bid them goodnight and headed to bed. She turned to Arthur and worked up the courage to speak.

“I can I ask you something?”

He turned to her.

"Sure."

“What is all this?”

He sighed, as he pondered for a moment. He fished a carton of cigarettes from his satchel and struck a match on the bottom of his boot.

“The name ’van der Linde’ mean anything to you?”

She swallowed a shaky breath as the pieces fell into place. Dutch Van Der Linde. Not Lemoyne Raiders. The Van der Linde gang. The infamous outlaws roaming the west; taking the rich for all they had and raising hell like the devil himself. Her mother sent her a clipping of the newspaper from Blackwater a few months ago, outlining the details of a massacre on a riverboat, implicating Dutch Van Der Linde and his associates for the crime.

Can you believe it? A robbery and a shootout in our hometown! It’s all anyone’s talking about. I’m so glad you weren’t here.

Arthur watched her expression fall into place.

“I’m sure we’ve made a name for ourselves,” he noted.

She nodded quietly. A name indeed. One that always struck her with morbid curiosity. She couldn’t bring herself to ask about Blackwater. She wasn’t in a position to be running for the hills.

“So… you break folks outta prison a lot?” she asked, breaking the tenuous pause.

He chuckled.

“Only the pretty ones,” he smirked, the cigarette hanging from his lips.

Despite her better judgement, her cheeks flushed a dusty pink.

“Sometimes it's breaking folks out, sometimes it’s bringing folks in, sometimes it’s robbing ‘em,” he explained.

Her eyes dropped to his hands resting over his lap. Those calloused hands that held hers so carefully. The bumps and scrapes and calluses began to map out a story in her head. She thought about all the kinds of things he’d done with those hands. Her eyes flicked back up to his face.

“You kill ‘em when you rob ‘em?” she asked, her chest rising with tension.

He turned his whole body to face her this time, his intense, teal eyes locking onto hers.

“Sometimes,” he spoke gravelly, “I'd like to think we avoid it well enough, but…”

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“Look, we’re a family around here, we look out for each other, “ he continued, “we’re looking to make our way to better things, but it’s not always that simple, or pretty.”

She nodded and brought her gaze to her hands. He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. It was quiet for a moment. Arthur continued puffing away at his cigarette. The sooty and sourly dulcet aroma of tobacco filled her nose.

“You got somewhere to go? Somewhere I can take you?” he asked finally.

She bit back the words that ached in her chest. She wanted to go home. Not to her cramped tenement in a noisy city, where it bustled people but she was always alone. She wanted to go home, to Blackwater. The soothing tone of her mother’s comforting words was only a train ride away. She pictured it. Rushing into her arms with tears in her eyes, telling her everything, what had happened, what she had done, the warmth of her embrace melting away every care in the world.

It was a pretty picture but merely a fantasy. She wanted to do her mother more credit than assume the worst, but she couldn’t lie to herself. Her mother might never look at her the same, knowing what she had done. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing her.

Arthur watched her again patiently, tapping the ashes of his cigarette into the nearby grass, watching her thoughts churn. She couldn’t meet his gaze.

“There’s nowhere to go,” she told him, barely above a whisper.

He sighed and took another drag of his cigarette. She stared ahead, watching the smoke dissipate into the night.

“That bastard took everything from me,” she whispered.

Her fists clenched. A lump formed in her throat.

“I keep reliving it, in my head,” she told him, “trying to think of a way it could have gone differently.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“Maybe if I didn’t stop him-”

“Hey,” Arthur interjected, “don’t do that to yourself. You did what you had to do, Mads.”

She wiped her eyes with a small nod.

“It’s Madeline,” she told him, “Madeline Luella.”

#arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x original female character #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan smut

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 2

Damnation

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: Descriptions of blood, death, and vomiting, attempted sexual assault is alluded to, traumatic event aftermath.

Read on Ao3

24 hours earlier

The gasp that escaped his throat was haunting. She’d never heard anything quite like it. Like the howl of a wounded animal. She could smell the coffee and cigars on his breath. She could smell the acrid stench of his aftershave burning deep in her nostrils. She could smell the blood, pooling beneath him. His breath drained from his chest in a deathly quiet release but the room was silent, so horribly silent, it was impossible not to hear it.

She laid on top of him, stiff like a board, unable to move. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she gazed through his. She could almost see the light fading behind his irises if she looked deeply enough. Her face was inches from his, frozen in place, she had no choice but to scan every inch of his expression. He almost looked scared. She almost felt for him.

She could feel her stomach twisting and the all too familiar sensation of her mouth coating with saliva. She was about to vomit.

She pulled back on instinct, intending to lift herself off him, but she hadn’t loosened her grip on the letter opener, so it came up with her, leaving his neck with a sickening squelch. She fell back in horror and tossed it across the room without a second thought. Her body convulsed as she retched up her lunch. The lunch she enjoyed just hours before at the quiet peace of her desk. She stumbled to her feet, willing the nausea in her stomach and the numbness in her feet to subside so she could make her way to the door.

She wasn’t sure where to go or who to look for, but she needed to leave. She needed to put as much distance between her and him as possible. As she careened towards the stairs, she let out a haunting gasp herself. She couldn’t control the heave of her chest as she cried in anguish, gasping for breath in between the sobs. She gripped the railing like a lifeline.

She made her way to the lobby, hoping someone was still left in the office. Her eyes landed on the flame of Martha’s ginger hair glinting in the dim light of the wall sconces. She was already up from the front desk, eyes darting frantically, looking for the source of the commotion. Her eyes landed on Mads, the picture of perfect horror; blood-spattered and wearing her own vomit. Gasping and sobbing, she desperately tried to form the words, any words.

“I couldn’t get him to stop,” she heaved.

Martha looked her up and down, face paling in horror. Mads could practically see the thoughts churning in her head, and she couldn’t do anything but let out another strained sob as Martha turned tail and bolted for the front doors. She could hear the faint calls for help as the world started blurring around her. The last of her strength left her as the adrenaline washed away and she crumpled to the floor. There was nothing left to do but wait.

The law arrived quickly, and yet painfully slowly. Martha grabbed the first officer she saw on the street in a vice grip and wheeled him into the office. The officer took in the sorry state of the woman before him. She had tried to wipe the tears from her eyes only to smear the blood on her hands across her cheeks.

“Miss, tell me what’s happened.” he offered from a comfortable distance, his rifle grasped firmly in his hands.

A croak escaped her throat. She couldn’t speak the words of what had transpired in that room, even if she wanted to. All she could offer was a blood-stained hand gesturing towards the office.

“Who else is in the building?” he tossed to Martha, who stood a few feet back, with her arms wrapped around herself.

Her eyes shot up to him.

“It was just us, and- and Mr. Roscoe” she spoke meekly, with a crack in her voice.

Cautiously, the officer made his way past her and up the stairs. He took in his surroundings, noting the blood smears on the railing. Once he reached the hall, it wasn’t hard to locate the scene of the crime. His eyes landed on the head office, the only office with the lights still on. All the employees were long gone, and the workday was long over. He stalked towards the doorway, cocking his rifle in preparation for whatever lay beyond the door.

The state of the room was a sorry sight. The contents on top of the desk were scattered on the floor, the chair sitting in front of the desk was overturned, and a body lay just beyond it. It seemed the worst was already done. He made note of the bloodied letter opener, cast away from the body. As he pieced together the tale, he made his way back to the front doors.

With the haste and speed of a hungry lion, he alerted all the fellow officers in the area with a shrill cry of his whistle. The wagon arrived minutes later, along with a handful of officers. A sea of blue jackets funnelled through the front door. The first officer filled his colleagues in on the situation as was presented before him.

Two officers hoisted her to her feet. They held her shoulders firmly as one of them fished out his cuffs and locked her arms behind her.

“I- I didn’t…” she couldn’t finish her thought.

She couldn’t lie, she wouldn’t. Lying wouldn’t do her any good. She tried to recount the events of the night. The events leading up to the letter opener in his neck and the two of them hitting the ground. She grimaced at these thoughts. She resigned herself to defeated silence.

As if the officer who cuffed her could sense the fight she was having with her thoughts, he offered her some peace for the ride to the station.

“We’ll sort this out, miss. All in due time.”

#arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 1

Jailbreak

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warnings: mild violence, gunfights

Read on Ao3

Time passed at a snail’s pace. Everything seemed so still, she convinced herself she could feel the earthing rotating.

Between the lines of questioning, picture taking, and information gathering, there was nothing to do but wallow in her thoughts and drive herself mad. Guilt is it’s own kind of torture. It gnawed at her like a feral beast. She would die here, she was sure of it. Her time on trial would never come, and she would be left to rot in this cell till the end of time, and then rot some more. A day stretched into an eternity, like a living damnation.

The dying light of the sun had vanished long ago. The day was done and the station was quiet once more, as it was when she first arrived. Only one man remained in the other three cells, who had been escorted in by a bounty hunter this morning. Everyone else had been transferred or released.

Though he snored like a roaring bear, she couldn’t complain. Better that than soul-sucking silence.

A cry for help broke through the snores and her agitated thoughts. She shot to attention and glanced at the officer who took over for sergeant Lambert at the end of his shift. He rose to his feet and paused, eyes searching through the windows, waiting for another cry to assure him he wasn’t hearing things. It came, more desperate this time. A man called for help.

“Nelson,” the officer from the desk called to the guard at the other end of the room. He gestured for him to investigate.

The guard nodded and made his way through the back doors. She brought her face to the bars to watch this unfold, craning to peek through the glass doors. A faint shuffling could be heard, then silence lingered for a moment. And then another moment. And another.

“Nelson,” the officer called.

He received no response.

He turned to the guard on his right.

“Glinski, take Harris, somethings wrong.”

The two officers from either end of the room proceeded to the back.

“Everything alright?” the officer in the foyer called.

“Working on it,” the officer at the desk called back.

“Nelson’s out cold!” one of the officers reported.

A moment passed.

“Hey!” one of them cried, followed by a gunshot and a scuffle.

The faint sounds of grunts and punches landing reached her ears. She backed away from the bars, as panic swelled in her chest.

The desk officer grabbed his pistol from his holster.

“Fitz! I need your help back here,” the officer called as he made his way to the back.

She turned to the foyer. The guard was gone. Uncertainty swirled in her belly. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as a dark figure emerged from the second set of doors leading into the station; a tall masked man, bearing a worn leather hat and a rifle. Familiarity lingered in the back of her mind. He stalked forward, quiet as a mouse and deadly as a panther.

“Fitz is busy,” the man called with a thick, southern cadence, “I’ll have to do.”

The desk officer turned quickly on his heel with his pistol raised. Terror froze her in place as she watched this unfold.

“Drop it,” the man commanded with his rifle aimed.

The officer hesitated. She watched in horror as another masked man with long, dark hair emerged from the back doors and slammed the butt of his rifle to the back of his head. His limp body crumbled with a thump to the marble floors. She didn’t make a sound.

The figure of death made his way to her cell. The second figure followed.

“Check the desk, see what you can find,” he told the second man.

He unlocked her cell door with a loud clang.

“Please, please, don’t!” she yelped as he moved forward with a hand extended to her.

“Easy, you’re all right,” he cooed.

She shrunk to the ground without another word and scrambled to the corner.

“My name’s Arthur,” he told her as he crouched to her level, then her gestured to the second man “that’s Charles. We’re here to help.”

He pulled down his bandana and pulled off his hat. The lingering familiarity cemented as she recalled the eyes peering into her own. The bounty hunter from this morning.

“You remember me?” he asked softly, his voice rough as gravel, yet smooth like honey, “I was here this morning. Lambert told me what happened to ya.”

His eyes, the colour of sea glass, held her there, kept her present when all she wanted was to shrink to the floor and lay there to die. She managed the smallest of nods.

“Before I left, that feller came in, the one cussin’ you out?” he asked, “I overheard him and his goons. He wants you dead. We came to get you outta here.”

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“You gotta trust us,” Charles urged as he returned from the desk.

“I-”

The front doors rattled violently, followed by heavy banging. Every head turned towards it.

“Sergeant!” A man bellowed, “you got somethin’ we want! You hand her over, and no one’s gonna get hurt!”

Her eyes shot back to Arthur, with terror lingering in her features.

“It’s now or never, darlin’,” he urged, “that door ain’t gonna hold forever.”

She took the deepest breath her constrained chest would allow. She lifted her hand, which he met in a calloused, yet tender grip.

“Atta girl,” he cooed.

He hoisted her to her feet and brought a gentle hand to the small of her back as he guided her through the door. They moved quickly out the back, his touch never leaving her. Her eyes fell on the guards that lay among the alley, barely conscious.

“Hey!” A man barked, “Ed, they’re breaking her out!”

Her head whipped back to catch sight of Ed Roscoe and his goons rounding the station at the mouth of the alley. Her stomach dropped. A man she only met once, when he came storming into the station just this morning, in a state of furious grief at the loss of his brother. She couldn’t shake all the horrible things he screamed at her. A part of her believed she deserved it.

“Over the wall,” Arthur ordered, “I’ll cover you.”

She met Ed’s eyes only for a moment before she turned to escape, and the rage behind them scorched her soul. He wanted her dead.

Charles helped her step up onto a nearby crate and hoist herself up as Arthur opened fire. The sound rang in her ears. She shuffled over the slope of roof and laid flat. The men fired back. She couldn’t bear to look. Charles pulled himself onto the roof with a grunt, and loaded his rifle to take aim.

“Arthur,” he called, while rapidly firing.

Arthur pulled back and climbed up as well.

“Let’s go,” he called.

They shuffled to the other end of the roof. He turned back to her with his arms extended. She hesitated.

“I got ya, sweetheart,” he told her, “jump.”

She obeyed. His arms softened the descent. Their surroundings blurred past as they made their way through the back alleys of the city. Adrenaline washed through her as the night's cool breeze brushed past her face. She felt alive. More alive than she had felt in the last 24 hours. They reached two horses tied to a post, a few blocks away from the station.

They stowed their rifles as they approached.

“You ridden before?” Arthur asked.

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to fight the chill in the air. He watched her, and then shrugged off his brown leather jacket, walked to her and flipped it around her shoulders. Her head tilted back to watch him intently as he neared her, measuring his every move. She tensed as his arms hovered around her: the feeling was uncomfortably familiar. A sickly panic squeezed her chest.

He let the jacket fall and pulled himself away quickly. The warmth lingering in the fabric spread around her and soothed the chill like snow melting on a sun-beat road. Her shoulders relaxed under the weight of it.

“It’s real easy, watch how I do it.”

In one fluid motion, he stepped his left foot into the stirrup, and launched up and over the side of the horse. She approached the horse as he did, and fished her arms through his jacket. He offered his hand to her. She took hold of him, hooked her left foot in the stirrup, and took a big breath. She did as he did but slammed onto the saddle with force and started to careen over the other side.

“That’s it,” he praised, his right hand shooting behind him to her side to push her back into place, “I got ya.”

The sensation was foreign, wildly uncomfortable, and so incredibly high. She gingerly snaked her hands through his arms to wrap around his torso, but quickly pulled back.

“You’re alright. Hold onto me tight if you like, sweetheart, I don’t bite,” he offered over his shoulder.

She slowly snaked her hands through again, leaning forward and bracing herself against his back. Her hands met each other at his middle and then splayed across him with firm pressure. She sighed quietly in relief.

The moon shone a ghoulish white cast on the hills of Lemoyne, as the three thieves stole away into the night. No one breathed a word until they had reached the other side of the bridge, not until they were certain they were in the clear. The ambient and incessant buzzing of cicadas filled the air. They hummed along to the beat of their horses’ hooves clopping against dirt. A few wild pigs squealed in shrill anguish as they passed.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Arthur cleared his throat as he broke the silence.

Charles shot him a look over his shoulder.

She couldn’t muster any kind of response, not that she even had one in mind to offer. She simply held onto him in a steady embrace, jostling about on the back of his horse. Somehow, the rough ride soothed her, much the same as the bumpy wagon ride to the police station.

She breathed a deep sigh and a multitude of scents filled her nose. Mainly sweat, smoke, and gunpowder.

“What’s your name?” Charles asked.

She considered her reply for a moment.

“Mads,” she replied, “call me Mads.”

They slowed their pace as they cut down a dirt path and approached the entrance of a large property. The murky lights of lanterns flickered in the haze of the swamp like fireflies beyond the gateway.

“Who’s there?” a man called from the tree line.

The sharp bark startled her to attention.

“It's us,” Charles called back, “Charles and Arthur.”

As they continued down the path, they approached a shabby, colonial mansion, crawling with vines, sat amongst a large clearing by the edge of a swamp. A homestead, seemingly abandoned, now sprawling with life. Wagons and canopies littered the site. People bustled about.

They cantered steadily over the wood slats of the path, coming to a stop at the hitching posts. Charles dismounted first, hitched his horse and Arthur’s, and then made his way towards the house.

“I’ll let Dutch know,” he offered as he passed.

Arthur nodded and then turned his attention to her.

“I think it’d be best if you hopped off first,” he said.

She pulled back and passed a glance between him and herself.

“Just do what ya did before but backwards,” he removed his foot from the right stirrup so she could place her foot there, “nice and easy.”

She took another deep breath, hooked her foot in the stirrup and swung herself off, hitting the ground with hefty force again. A stinging ache reverberated through her foot as she wobbled backwards and grabbed the saddle to steady herself.

He did the same but was significantly more graceful. He landed beside her, and she felt the warmth of his body brush past her with a whoosh. She hadn’t realized how much she enjoyed it until they parted.

“Let’s uh, introduce you to the group,” Arthur offered with a hand extended in the same direction Charles had walked off to.

She nodded and willed her feet to carry her forward, despite her trepidation. Arthur followed closely behind, keeping a small distance between them. Charles appeared in the doorway of the grand house, followed by a sharply dressed man.

“Arthur, I understand you’ve brought us someone,” the man greeted.

“Dutch, this is Mads. Mads, this is Dutch, he’s the… head man around here.”

Dutch. The name lingered in her ear with familiarity. She swallowed her unease.

“Good to meet you, Mads,” Dutch greeted with a hand extended. She pried her cold hand away from her side. He grasped it firmly, but gentle, much the same as Arthur, and they shook hands. Yet again, all she could offer was a nod.

“Make yourself at home, my dear. Arthur, I need to steal you for a moment, there’s some… interesting news I’ve got to share with you,” Dutch spoke, slightly stilted, wary of the mixed company.

“Sure Dutch, I just-” he paused, tossing a small glance at Mads.

“I’ll show her around,” Charles offered.

Arthur nodded.

She followed after Charles, casting a small glance back at Arthur. He glanced back too, as Dutch ushered him away with a pat on the back.

#arthur morgan x original female character #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut

[johndeerequeer]

The Pursuit of Greater Things - Masterlist

She leaned closer, drawn to him like a lighthouse in a storm. His eyes glittered in the dim lantern light like obsidian. Her eyes wandered his face like a horse cantering the plains, carefully absorbing every inch of his face, every line, every crease. From the freckles speckled across his cheeks from spending every day in the sun, to the scar on his chin she had yet to ask him about. She wanted to bring her hand up to his face, trace a finger along each of his features and commit everything to memory with her touch. She searched his face for a sign, something to tell her she wasn’t crazy. Something to tell her she should cross the distance between them and do what she so desperately wanted to do.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character 

Summary: Madeline Luella lived a life she was grateful for. When a distant cousin married into a booming family business in Saint Denis, she secured a job and ultimately, the life she’d always hoped for. She had independence, she had charge over her life, she had a future. That is until Madeline is left with bloody hands and a stained record. One minute she was filing papers in the office after a long workday, the next she was locked in the police station awaiting trial. Her misdeeds not only earned her a pair of shackles but a target on her back too. But, in a strange twist of fate, a pair of mysterious outlaws break her out of jail, and Madeline is given another chance. Not at a normal life perhaps, but maybe something greater.

Tags: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-ish burn, did somebody say ‘daddy issues’?, high-honor Arthur Morgan

Warnings: Mentions of attempted sexual assault, depictions of violence, blood, gore, etc., mature themes (Warnings will be put on specific chapters)

**CURRENTLY ON A WRITING HIATUS**

Chapters:

Jailbreak

Damnation

Welcome Wagon

Play Your Cards

Big Spender

Ambush

Former Sins

The Spoils of War

What Once Was

Showstopper

A Fine Night Indeed

Surrender

Respite

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Read Spanish version on Wattpad

#arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan smut #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #sadie adler #charles smith #slow burn #hurt/comfort