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*eats this up like it's mom's spaghetti.*
Shacking Up Headcanons (RDR 2 Modern AU)
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Arthur Morgan x F! Reader
Note -  This was my favorite Arthur face (of many) in the game. 
Arthur: *does anything*
Me: *hates Country music, but is also Southern af* 🎶“Cowboy taaaake meee awaaaay!”🎶 This is long btw, my bad. Hold on anons, I swear I’m gonna get to as many of you as I can.
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Tumblr can eat my butt. But here you are@ceruleanchillin. This is what I was trying to send.
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White Lace
Arthur Morgan x F!Reader
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AO3
Note -  If I haven’t made it clear before this point, I should say these drabbles aren’t in any particular order.
Also, I’m writing a John drabble so he should be next. I’m considering taking prompt ideas so I can write a little more than when an idea hits me.
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Those fucking feels...Spoilers
That last part. Where Arthur turns back to the horse, and says thank-you. It hurts me. I love that game, but fuck. At least he got to have one last ride. I didn't with my horse...
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Feed me more!
Arthur Morgan x Reader: Hurt!Reader (2/?)
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Under ordinary circumstances, you and Arthur make quite the team. Whenever he charges off into certain danger, you’re hot on his heels, ready to make the world tremble. But, when circumstances aren’t ordinary, when something (and it’s absolutely inevitable in your line of work) goes wrong, what can you do?
It happens while the two of you are with Dutch and Hosea, scoping a few possible leads in Rhodes.
Dutch has been saying he has a plan for weeks now, and though you would gladly follow him to the ends of the Earth, you’re starting to wonder if that plan will ever show its face.
You split up to cover more ground: Hosea and Dutch going in one direction, you and Arthur in another. 
And you’re happy to be paired with Arthur. There isn’t a man alive who you trust more than him. 
Something–and you can’t quite figure out what–isn’t sitting right with you. The gang has been in Lemoyne for about a month, and you can tell that the locals are starting to get antsy. Not to mention the feud between the Gray’s and the Braithwaites.
You’re walking with Arthur by the gunsmith, ready to ask him about your next move, when the muscles in your back tense.
“I know you.”
The voice–a man’s voice–comes from behind you. 
You and Arthur turn around in time to see a scrawny-looking guy, maybe in his thirties, wide-eyed and shaking. 
He wears a gun in a holster on his hip.
He’s pointing a wavering finger at Arthur.
Arthur takes a careful step toward him, simultaneously moving until he’s in front of you–shielding you, should the stranger lose his temper.
Arthur: “C’mon, mister… I think you got the wrong man.”
The stranger vehemently shakes his head.
Stranger: “N-no. I know you… You robbed me and my brother ‘bout six months ago.”
Recognition dawns on Arthur’s face, but he quickly masks it.
Not quickly enough.
The stranger pulls out the gun and levels it at Arthur’s chest.
Arthur: “Whoa, easy now, boy… I’m tellin’ you. You got the wrong man.”
He raises his hands like he’s trying to calm a wild animal, then takes a few gentle steps toward the stranger. 
Stranger: “Don’t come no closer, mister!”
You’re ready to draw your own weapon, should the need arise, but Arthur motions for you to stay back.
Arthur: “C’mon, now, just take it easy.”
He takes another step forward until he’s within arm’s reach of the stranger.
The stranger’s hands shake.
Too quick for anybody to react, Arthur knocks the gun aside.
It goes off… but no one notices.
Arthur: “Now why’re you tellin’ lies about me, boy?”
The stranger looks over Arthur’s shoulder–at you. His eyes widen.
Stranger: “Oh my God.”
Arthur whirls around, only to find you clutching your stomach, blood seeping through your fingers.
All you manage is a weak, “Arthur?” before your knees buckle and you pitch forward.
Arthur: “Y/N!”
He lunges forward and catches you before you hit the ground.
Arthur: “Hey–hey, Y/N, look at me, okay? Look at me, darlin’. You’re gonna be okay, ya hear? Jus’ stay with me.”
He wildly looks up at the gathering crowd.
Arthur: “What’re you staring at?! Get a doctor!”
As somebody hurries to do as they’re told, Arthur returns all of his attention to you.
You can’t speak, try as hard as you might. With every breath you take, more blood gushes from the wound.
Arthur covers it and applies pressure, eliciting a cry from you.
Arthur: “I know it hurts, Y/N, I’m sorry. But you’re gonna be fine, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”
Footsteps approach–loud, frantic ones.
Dutch and Hosea force their way to the front of the crowd. When they catch sight of you, they freeze.
Hosea: “My God… Y/N…”
More footsteps echo in the distance.
The doctor appears in your blurring vision. And judging by the expression on his face? The situation’s a lot worse than you thought.
He turns to his assistants and says: “Help me get them to a bed in the practice.”
As they move to grab you, Arthur refuses to let you go. 
Only with gentle coaxing from Dutch and Hosea does he finally surrender you to the Doctor’s care.
While you’re rushed to the office, Arthur stands there, rooted to the ground, your blood soaking his hands.
Then: his expression morphs to pure, undeniable rage.
He launches himself toward the stranger who shot you, fire in his eyes. This isn’t the gentle, kind man you fell in love with. This is the outlaw, blinded by and acting on fury. 
It takes both Dutch and Hosea to pull Arthur off of the stranger. He fights them the entire way.
Dutch: “Arthur–Arthur! Get a hold of yourself, son!”
He places his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes.
Arthur: “Dutch… Y/N–”
Dutch: “I know, son, I know. But they’re strong. They’ll pull through.” 
Dutch and Hosea gently guide Arthur toward the Doctor’s office. They have to wait outside, it’s such a small practice.
Eventually, the Doctor steps through the door, hands bloodied, clothes stained.
He looks at Arthur and gives him a small, but warm smile.
Doctor: “They made it. Not out of the woods yet, won’t be for a couple’a days, but I like their odds.”
Arthur: “Can I see ‘em?”
The Doctor nods, then wordlessly leads him to the recovery room.
You’re lying on a bed, thick bandages wrapped around your torso. You’re pale, weak, and absolutely exhausted.
It breaks Arthur’s heart to see you like that, but at least you’re alive.
He sits by the bed and gently brushes the hair from your forehead.
You open your eyes, smiling tiredly when you see Arthur at your side.
He takes your hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze: a silent promise to look after you until you can do it yourself. 
I did promise angst, now, didn’t I?
This got really long, but once I started writing it, I couldn’t stop lol. Hope you enjoyed! Comments give me life XD
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My actual literal horse. Because when you scratch his chest, he wiggles his lip and sticks his tongue out.
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“I’m staking my claim on the objective.”
McCree capturing his favorite objective, Mercy!
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Thanks to the new McCree cinematic and the idea of @lancethefordforeigner I was able to make my old screenshot a lot better :) 
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Arthur Morgan's face looks like a nice seat.
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#robmybodyofeverythingplease
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#rob me pls
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We need more Dutch dad.
MODERN READER TEACHING DUTCH TO MAKE DAD JOKES TO ANNOY JOHN OR ARTHUR DJHSGSG
Arthur: “Dutch, we got a problem.”
Dutch, without missing a beat: “Hi ‘we got a problem.’ I’m dad.”
Arthur: “NOT YOU TOO.”
Dutch, turning to the Reader: “Did I do it right?”
Reader, nodding and wiping away a tear: “I’m so proud.”
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Heart of gold is pure. They must be protected at all cost.
Micah: *pisses off the reader*
Reader: “Some… *pauses, then punches him square in the face* –BODY ONCE TOLD ME THE WORLD WAS GONNA ROLL ME. I AIN’T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHED.”
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So hey I am just over here crying.
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Here’s a fanart of Red Dead Redemption 2, best story Rockstar had ever made.
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Can we stop and appreciate his arms?! 😻
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The Heartlands, NH
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Where he turns back, and says thank-you to the horse, and pets him till he passes... HIT ME HARD! Especially as my own actual horse died in my arms... Thank-you for being good to animals, Arthur.
Things I’m Still Not Over And Never Will Be (SPOILERS)
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Self explanatory sadness…
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