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m2ok · 2 months

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Golden Salvation Pt.2

pt. 1

cowboy!Ghost x m! reader

A/N: There will be one more part to this just to wrap everything up :)

Your pulse thundered in your ears as the stranger loomed closer, hand gripping lethal iron at his hip. Fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive - this was no ordinary burglary; you could see it etched in every predatory line of his body.

This man had come for blood, your blood.

Slowly, you raised your hands in a gesture of peace even as your mind raced. One wrong move and you’d be pushing up daisies come morn. These were the dark shadows Simon lived in, the enemies he’d made through his notorious work. And now they were coming for him...through you.

.“Don’t want no trouble, mister,” you said, keeping your tone calm and even like you didn't know why this man was here. As if there could be any other reason for someone to break into a home as dingy as your own. “Just a simple bartender is all – barely got a dollar to my name”

This snake didn't need to know how deep your bond with Simon went, especially since hiding your relationship was the only way you could see to get out of this situation.

The man cackled at your words, rolling his eyes as the smile dropped and he stalked closer to the bed, aiming the gun at you as he cocked it back with a sickening crack.

“ Mhm... as if you weren't all nice and cozied up to him not mere hours ago – ya really think im gonna believe you?” He gave you a mocking grin

“No no im not stupid sweetheart. Im not here to collect any of his debts from you – I care more about the eight men o’ mine your Ghostie killed. Those boys were my family, he didnt think twice about that though when he shot em’ dead where they stood. Figure I should make him feel the same hurt I do, hm?”

“You won’t hurt him none-” You tried to reason “His heart don't belong to me, he won’t spare a second glance past this cabin. Hell, He's probably halfway across the desert by now” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, lies seeping through your lips at the risk of your life. You knew what you meant to Simon, no one else was able to get into his space as you did- at least not if they wanted to walk away with their life.

The man's smirk dropped, new anger burning in his eyes as the grip on his gun tightened, “I saw the way that mongrel looked at you, you’re his boy and that's clearer than any mountain river” he scoffed, finger moving from the side of the gun to rest on the trigger.

You closed your eyes, praying in your head, but not to any god. No, your prayers were aiming for Simon's rescue, praying that he would somehow know you were in trouble and come rescue you from it.

Simon sat astride his horse on a dusty ridge, watching the moon rise silver over the desert wastes. A half-smoked cigarette dangled idly from his lips; he’d been nursing the same thoughts over and over since dusk fell heavy as a shroud across the badlands.

Thoughts of you.

Somewhere deep in his gut, an uneasy feeling roiled. Like an invisible string tugging at his soul, trying to tug him back the way he came. Simon growled low in his throat, frustrated with his own foolish longings. You’d made your stance clear – this life wasn’t for you, not truly. And he had no right to ask you to join him.

And yet...

A crack suddenly split the still night air. So faint and far that any lesser man may have missed it entirely, but not Simon.

In an instant he was vaulting onto his horse’s back, boots pounding twin paths in the dirt as they flew towards the distant lights of your little town. Another shot rang out, louder now, and Simon’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

He knew that sound – deep in his bones he knew something was horribly wrong.

Choking the reins in a near stranglehold, Simon rode as if all the demons of hell were nipping at his horse’s hooves. Towards you. Towards salvation or damnation, he did not know. But by God, no son of a bitch was gonna harm one hair on your head if he could still help it.

Help was coming- you just had to hold on.

The man fired the gun, a sharp sting hitting your side before it blossomed into agonizing pain. You let out a pained cry, one hand instinctively going to land on your wound while the other covered your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your hand was soon coated in dark crimson, entire body shaking with adrenaline as the man cocked the gun once more.

“Was gonna just end you, but I figured I should make this painful the same way he did. Should fill you with so many bullets he won’t be able to recognize you” he hissed, aiming the gun at your other side.

Simon was little more than a blur of dust and primal fury as he crashed through the remains of your splintered front door. For a split second, time seemed to freeze – taking in the scene with a single, piercing gaze.

You,curled onto the bed clutching a bloody wound. And him. That snake. Gun pressed sickeningly against your body as he spewed his venomous threats. With an almost guttural roar, Simon’s Colt leapt into his hand like it was part of his very being. Two blooming shots rang as one; his aim was true as bible scripture.

The intruder pitched backwards, scarlets blossoms exploding from where his eyes once were. He was dead before he hit the floor.

But Simon saw none of it. Already he was at your side, tatty serape ripped and pressed desperately against your weeping injury. Brown eyes wild and scared met your own, and for a moment the steely outlaw facade slipped entirely.

“Darlin’...” he choked, voice thick. “Talk to me, baby. Stay with me now, ya hear?” Working frantically to stem the flood, Simon tangled scarred fingers gently through your hair, anchoring you to this world with his touch alone.

“That’s it…keep breathin’, just keep breathin’” His voice dissolved into ragged prayers mere ghosts could hear. Help was still minutes away - but for now, you had Ghost. And he’d be damned before he let the reaper take you from him.

You were sobbing, your brain mangled with confusion and fear as the adrenaline ran out and the full pain of the bullet lodged in your abdomen had you reeling,

Red painted everything around you, hands, clothes, and sheets underneath you drenched in it.

“Simon-” you rasped, breathing labored as you looked around with wide eyes at the gruesome scene in front of you. It was too much, you could feel your head going light- brain fuzzy and ears ringing as you fought not to close your eyes.

“It hurts” you choked, trying to shove his hand away from where he was pressing down on the wound to stop the torrent of blood flowing out. “Simon I cant-” you said, throat raw from the sobs that came out.

You wanted so badly to stay with him, to be able to wake up tomorrow with him, but you didn’t know if you’d get that with the way you felt your strength leave your body.

“It hurts- it hurts” You were almost begging, for what you didn’t know. You just wanted the pain to go away.

You were terrified- not ready to die yet, and especially not like this, not when you had so much left to do. The thought alone sent a new set of tears streaming down your face, hand shaking- clutching the bleeding wound on top of Simon’s own to try and ebb the pain that burrowed deep in your skin.

Simon felt his world crumbling as your agonized crimes tore through him, sharper than any bullet ever could. Seeing you in such anguish ripped open a fissure in his battered heart, letting the demons of his deepest guilt and self-loathing spill forth in a torrent.

“I know, baby, I know it hurts…” he choked, pressing you close as if trying in vain to absorb your pain into himself. His own broad shoulders shook with ghosts of rage and grief, tears cutting rivulets through the dirt caked on his cheeks.

Goddamn it all, he should’ve been here. Should have followed his instincts and never left your side. Now it may be too late to hope for forgiveness, your blood staining his hands a brand of failure he could never outrun.

“Please, darlin’, please hold on…’ Simon begged, voice breaking as he spoke. His bandana was wrung out and useless now - in desperation he moved to cradle you fully, applying trembling pressure with his bare hands and what remained of his coat.

Distantly he heard the clatter of the approaching horses, but paid them no heed. You were fading, slipping away before his eyes, and all the strength and guns in the world couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t ye leave me now…I can’t do this world without ya…” A broken whisper, barely audible above the thunder in his ears. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, sharing the same ragged breaths, two souls more tangled than any root or vine. Hanging on a blade’s edge against the dark.

You stared up into Simon's eyes, eyebrows cinched in pain and eyes soaked with fear.

“I don’t wanna die, Simon” you whispered, voice shaky as you clung to him - like he alone could save you from this fate.

You could feel your heartbeat slowing, breathing ragged as you gasped for air that just wouldn’t enter your lungs….

Soon enough the doctor burst into the room, medical kit in hand as he came barreling over to you. He very carefully took you out of Simon’s arm with some convincing, to lay you back on the bed before he opened up his kit.

He handed you a flask filled with whiskey “You’re gonna want to drink this - it’ll help ease the pain” He said.

With shaky hands you drank the bottle, a scream ripping from your lungs as the man began to carefully dig into the wound, grabbing hold of the bullet with sterile tweezers before carefully pulling it free.

With practiced care he cleaned the wound, a harsh whimper leaving your lips at the sting of pain before the wound was stitched up and bandaged.

You were shaking, sobbing so hard your throat was raw and your lungs burned - the pain was unbearable and a large part of you wished you could just die to get away from it.

The doctor had you drink another flask, the alcohol numbing the pain receptors in your brain just enough to allow you to fall into a light sleep.

Simon sat vigil at your bedside through what felt like hours, not letting go of your limp hand once. Your cries of pain echoing loud and endlessly in his mind, driving spikes of pure anguish deep into his soul.

He watched in heavy silence as the doctor worked, breath caught tight in his chest, hardly daring to hope. But then - your ragged breaths evened out, color returning sluggishly to waxen cheeks. Alive. You were alive.

It was nearly two hours later when the man was done, wiping his hands on a rag as he stood up on shaky legs.

“He’s stable” The doctor said simply

Choking back sobs of relief, Simon buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of gratitude-laced kisses amongst salty tears. “That’s it, darlin’...you fight. Got too much left to do in this world.” he’d whisper to you, voice so soft only you could hear

“Most important thing now is cleaning that wound twice a day lest it get infected. If it does…” The doctor ordered, his words trialing off though his intentions were clear. He put down a set of bandages and cleaning solution on the nightstand for Simon’s use.

“It’ll take a long time to heal, I reckon” The doctor said “but my work is done here, y’all know where to reach me should he take a turn for the worst” He said, tilting his hat to Simon before he gathered his tools and headed out of the shabby cabin.

Simon took the doctor's words as gospel, nodding along to every word before the man left. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the mess that was now your little home. He dragged the body out back to deal with fully in the morning, cleaned your sheets and changed you into new clothes, boarded up the broken window, and finished by fixing the door that he had come barging through.

His own hands were gentle as churches doing their appointed duty, cleansing and dressing the angry wound each time without fail. Whatever it took to coax your stubborn spirit back to the land of the living.

Days bled into each other without notice. All that mattered to him now was you. And slowly, so slowly - full color seeped back, fever broke its hold. Eyes fluttered open to meet his own once more, full of pain but oh-so-blessedly alive.

“Hey there, sunshine…” Simon whispered hoarsely, like a parched man dying of thirst at an oasis. Finally, finally, he allowed himself the ghost of a weary smile.

You were going to be alright. And by God, he’d spend his last days making sure of it.

You slowly sat up, a soft whine leaving your lips with the movements as you aggravated the still raw wound. “Simon” you mumbled as you held his hand, reaching over to take a swig of the whiskey on the nightstand to ease the searing pain.

You rested your head back against the pillows with a soft sigh. It had been a few days now, and the pain was still a dull yet constant ache in your side.

You took the sight around you in, everything was clean and neat including your bedding and clothes. Even the floor had been mopped, the only reminders of your near death being the hole in your side.

“Simon you did all this?” You asked simply, eyes wide as you gazed up at him.

Simon huffed a soft, weary laugh at your question, gently squeezing your hand just to make sure you were really here and he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Course I did, darlin’. Weren’t about to let ya recover in filth,” He replied gruffly. Truth be told, tending to your every need had been the other thing keeping his demons at bay these long days and nights.

Keeping busy spared him time to think - and thinking led down paths too bleak to tread. Like how terrifyingly close he’d come to losing you forever.

Holding your gaze with quiet intent, Simon softly brushed calloused knuckles along your cheek “Reckon it’s about time i started pullin’ my weight ‘round here proper. Ain’t no safe place for ya out here alone” A question lingered in the subtle quirk of his brow, the hopeful yet wary gleam in tired eyes. After all that had passed between you both, was there still room for him at your side? A Ghost finally ready to lay his soul to rest, if you’d have him.

You could only hum softly at his words, sleep still filled in your bones. You didn’t answer him, instead you patted the empty side of the bed “Come sleep next to me, Si. You need the sleep” You said, your words a silent confirmation that you still wanted him.

Simon gave a soft grunt of approval, too weary in body and soul to do anything but obey your gentle prompting. Careful not to jostle your healing injury, he stretched his long limbs out beside you with a satisfied sigh.

It felt strange but right, sharing your space in such an intimate way after so long living apart. Like the final piece of a puzzle slipped neatly into place.

Turning his head, Simon watched you watch him through half-lidded eyes, drinking in every beloved feature as if to confirm this wasn’t some whiskey-fueled dream. Reaching out, he lightly touched the graceful curve of your cheek before letting his hand come to rest against the steady rise and fall of your chest.

“Sweetest sound there is,” he murmured, voice sleep-roughed and thick with meaning. A tousled head tucked itself beneath your chin with a contented sigh, tension seeping from tense muscles.

Come what may with the light of dawn, for now all was peaceful. You were alive, you were safe. And against all odds, Simon had finally come home to roost.

You held him close in your arms, gentle fingers carding through thick hair as you let his head rest against your now steady heartbeat. He needed the comfort, you could tell, and you were more than happy to give it to him.

“Rest now, Si. I'm not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me that easy” You assured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

It was a funny thing, holding such a toughened man in your arms, keeping him close and coddled despite the almost laughable size difference.

SImon made a low sound of gratitude at your soft reassurance, melting bonelessly into your gentle embrace. Your gentle fingers winding through his hair brought forth a wave of lethargy he’d fought to stave off this long week past. But no more - here in your arms, he was finally allowed to let his guard down.

It still struck him sometimes how two souls so disparate could fit together so seamlessly. But you’d always had a way of easing even his most ragged edges, soothing demons he thought long beyond taming. Lithe as you were in your current state, your strength ran deeper than any show of force ever could - and he found solace there like nowhere else.

“Missed this…” he mumbled, so soft it was barely audible even in the stillness enclosing your little world. One arm curled protectively around your middle, thumb brushing idle patterns against the slowly healing wound beneath the bandages.

A prayer of thanks on parched lips, Simon let weary eyes slide shut. Sleep rose like a gentle tide, carrying him off to oblivion sheltered in the piece of heaven he’d begun to call home. You’d brought him back from the brink of darkness once more, anchor in the storm. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

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coltermorning · 1 year

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The Hat (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You’ve taken a liking to a certain hat as well as to the rugged gunslinger who wears it. When you impulsively risk your neck to get it back for him, his anger at your foolish act turns into something surprising.

Author’s Notes: This was the first fic I ever wrote, and wow is it amazing to see how far I’ve come! This one will always have a special place in my heart though. Set during Chapter 3 in game.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, rough sex, rough oral sex, spanking

AO3 Link

The Hat

Word count: 6319

“Please let me go with them, Dutch. I can handle myself just fine,” you begged the gang leader as he assigned his men a lead he had been scoping out.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, miss. I don’t doubt that at all-”

“Then let me go. I’ll keep my head down and be a good extra hand. Hell, they may need me,” you said, gesturing to the men Dutch had just handpicked for the job.

You had been with the Van der Linde Gang for over a month now, fitting right in with your rough, dangerous lifestyle. Because of this, you had quickly found friendship in some of the men as well as Sadie Adler who was one of the first women you knew to dress like you and shoot like you and keep up with the rest of the men with ease like you. Well, almost all of the men. A certain handsome cowboy named Arthur had proven to be the most talented gun you had ever met, and he caught your attention early on because of it. Unsurprisingly, he was one of the men Dutch asked to go robbing. Part of you wanted to join the outing simply to watch the broad-shouldered man in action, although you would never admit to that. You couldn’t fall for someone you hardly knew when your lifestyle didn’t allow for such things.

Dutch pondered your request and finally relented. “Fine. Arthur, watch her, would you? Make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.”

“Now, Dutch, I ain’t babysitting on a job,” the rugged gun responded.

Dutch had already turned to walk back to his tent and waved Arthur’s words away, making his request final. Your blood boiled a little under the surface, mad at continually being called a kid. You stomped toward the camp’s hitching post where your horse was tied, stopping to make your anger known with Arthur. “I ain’t a baby. You look out for yourself and I’ll be just fine.” You turned to walk to your horse, not even waiting for a response.

He let out a big sigh of annoyance in return. “If you say so.” He followed you in walking to his horse, barking orders along the way. “John, Javier, let’s go. We don’t have much time if we wanna do this right.” The other two guns jogged over to their horses as well, and by the time all of you were saddled, Arthur led the group out of the Clemens Point camp and toward the latest score for the gang.

Not long into the ride, Arthur laid out a plan for the three of you to follow, telling you to stay toward the back of the wagon you were going to rob to keep an eye out. He was going to do the actual robbing and needed good protection in case anyone bold decided to show up and attempt to pick him off. Javier was to help you keep watch, and John was to hold up the driver. You were nervous about your first outing with the gang but excited too and ready to prove yourself. You were a good shot, especially with a rifle, so as long as you relied on your talent everything would turn out fine.

After a ride that lasted longer than you thought it would, Arthur spoke up. “Let’s wait under these trees here. Should be hidden well enough to wait for the wagon to pass.” The four of you turned your horses off the trail and into the woods to wait. After about ten minutes, the wagon came idling along the path. “Masks on. Here she comes,” Arthur said. You pulled up your dust-colored bandana (the damned thing used to be white, the Rhodes dirt having ruined it) to hide your face as you readied your gun. “You sure you ready for this, hotshot?” Arthur asked you. You looked over at him and nodded, not allowing him any room in your mind where your focus needed to be. “All right then. On my mark.”

The wagon crept along just past the trees where you were hidden, and Arthur waited a few seconds before barking the order, “Ride!” The four of your barreled out of the woods and toward the wagon, startling the driver enough to make him immediately stop and put his hands up.

John played his part well, riding up directly beside the driver. “That’s right, not one move or I’ll shoot you dead!”

Arthur quickly jumped into the back of the wagon to look for the money Dutch said would be hidden in it. “Javier, Y/N, keep an eye out. No guards don’t sit right with me,” he said as he searched through a trunk.

Javier looked toward the road ahead of the wagon and to the left while you took the rear and the right. You spotted movement in the wood line just in time to line up your sights. Through the crosshairs, you saw four or five mounted men hiding there, waiting to pick you off—one of them had a long-scoped rifle. “Guards!” you yelled, taking a shot at the man with the most deadly gun. You were a second too late though, as he fired just before you and came within inches of Arthur’s head, making Arthur’s hat fly off.

“Goddammit,” Arthur muttered as he ducked down into the wagon. “John stay with the driver and make sure he don’t run!”

Your first shot hit the guard right in the jaw, killing him and knocking him clean off his agitated horse. Shots rang out all around you as the remaining guards pursued and Javier and Arthur fired back. You were well-seasoned in this and took a breath, spurring your horse to move. A moving target was much harder to hit than a still one. You fired again and again, hitting one more guard. Either Arthur or Javier finished off the rest, and a silence rang out in the large space that gunshots had just filled. The two drafts pulling the wagon reared and stomped, only held from bolting by the terrified driver. “Get down from there,” John ordered him. “Get down from there now and get out of here and maybe I won’t kill you!” he yelled. The driver did as he was told, and John quickly replaced him. “I’m getting this thing out of here, Arthur. That won’t be the last of them.”

“Find a secluded spot and keep your head down then,” Arthur said as he jumped off the side of the wagon. “Don’t draw any attention. Go!” He slapped the side of the wagon and John flicked the reins hard, lurching the wagon away. “You two, be ready. He’s right, there’ll be more guards headed our-”

Before Arthur could finish his sentence, more gunshots rang out. Mounted men spilled out of the trees toward the three of you. Arthur was stuck too far away from his horse, so he jumped on John’s instead, grabbing his gun to shoot back at the men and whistling for his own mount to follow. You joined Javier in making a run for it while shooting your pursuers, but something near a big bush on the ground caught your eye—it was Arthur’s hat. “Arthur, your hat!” you yelled to him, knowing how important it was to him.

“For christ sake, leave it!” he shouted as he unloaded his sidearms.

Against all logic and rationalization, you turned your mount into a wide circle, doubling back to retrieve the hat. You loved that hat something awful, especially on the cowboy who donned it. You also weren’t scared of the mediocre guns pursuing you in the slightest. The guards in pursuit split, half following Javier and Arthur, half following you. You aimed your rifle at one of them and breathed out, firing a shot that took him down easily. As far as you could tell, that only left two more. You spurred your horse again, keeping your head low and riding in an erratic pattern as gunshots flew around you. You turned to line up your shot again and fired, taking out the second guard.

As your one pursuer continued after you, you neared the black hat on the ground. You decided (impulsively and somewhat stupidly) to grab the hat off the ground while riding. You used to practice tricks like this off of your horse all the time when you were younger, but this one would have to count or it could cost you your head. You kept your feet firmly in the stirrups, glad that you had cinched your horse up so tight, and began to lean as you neared the hat at full speed. You leaned down more and more, stretching your arm out as far as it would go, and just before you reached the hat, another gunshot split the air and skimmed across your left arm that was away from the ground. You instinctively moved away from the splitting pain and even closer to the ground, finding the hat with your fingers and picking it up. You slammed it on your head, turned angrily around to the guard who had shot you, and cut his pursuit short with a bullet between the eyes. You didn’t let up one second in case any more pursuers came and bolted back toward camp with a small grin at your triumph.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur yelled as you reentered camp at a trot.

As you passed him, you tipped his own hat to him, deciding not to give it back just yet. You had earned it, goddammit, not him. “Survived, didn’t I?” You stopped your horse just shy of the hitching post and dismounted, tying him and giving him loving pats down his broad neck for doing so well under pressure.

“That ain’t the point.” The angry outlaw was hot on your tail, towering over you when you turned around. “You could have gotten yourself killed. I told you to leave the damn hat.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. And I killed the rest of the guards for you. You’re welcome.” You put your hand over the hat and ducked around him, deciding to rub some salt in the wound and keep it for yourself, at least for the day.

You saw Dutch walking your way and felt a tiny bolt of panic. The job really could have gone better, and now you knew Arthur wouldn’t vouch for your talent. “What’s going on?” the gang leader asked.

“She nearly went and got herself shot up all for that stupid hat,” Arthur answered, following behind with plenty of impatience in his voice.

Dutch let out a sharp laugh. “Well, we have a brave one on our hands, don’t we? For future reference, miss, Arthur couldn’t lose that hat if his life depended on it. It always finds its way back on his head.” Dutch had a small grin on his face, and it was a little off-putting. Why wasn’t he yelling at you?

“Yeah she’s brave. Brave or stupid,” Arthur replied.

“Watch your mouth, would you?” you said, rounding on the cowboy. “I killed five of those guards with ease, no problems. Isn’t that all that matters? That we got the money and came out with our lives?”

“It ain’t about winning, it’s about being smart enough to live another day and not risk our necks unnecessarily.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was right but refusing to admit it. “Yeah, well, don’t get your hat shot off your head next time and maybe I won’t have to risk my neck.” Dutch let out another bark of a laugh at Arthur as you stormed off toward your tent.

You heard Dutch mutter “She’s got a point. It all turned out all right, Arthur, now don’t go worrying yourself into the grave,” before you reached your bedroll.

You heard Arthur reply, but his voice was too low for you to pick up words. His anger made you angry, made you want to punch something. You swiftly took the hat off your head and slammed it down on the ground beside you as you sat. The sharp movement made you wince as you remembered the graze from the bullet on your arm. You looked at your wound and saw that blood had seeped into your shirt, so you unbuttoned a few of the top buttons and brought the fabric down over your shoulder to reveal the wound. It wasn’t bad and could have been a lot worse, you decided, knowing that it would end up healing just fine. You reached over into your trunk where you kept all your belongings and pulled out a canteen and another shirt, soaking the shirt with water and pressing it to your wound to clean it out. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. You’d need to get your hands on a health cure to make sure it didn’t get infected. As you poured more water onto your shirt, Tilly passed by and saw the blood on your arm. “Didn’t go exactly as planned, did it?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” you said through a chuckle. You loved Tilly’s bluntness in everything she did. It kept all the boys in check. “Could have been worse, though.”

“Story of our lives.”

You let out another laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

“Well anyway,” she said, moving to get back to her work, “Keep on those men. They need it.” She smiled over her shoulder and you returned it.

After you finished tending to your wound and buttoned your shirt back up, you noticed Arthur eyeing you from across camp with a gaze full of anger. You had neglected to mention the graze on your arm on purpose, and knowing that he had seen it made you a little embarrassed. He would definitely bring it up later. He always had to have the last word, that much you knew about him.

You elected to ignore him and picked up his hat instead, knowing he was watching. You put it back on your head and wiped your wet hands off on your pants as you stood. You needed to go ask Strauss for a health cure. You would much rather ride into Rhodes and buy one from the general store there, but the gang members were finicky about who got to leave camp whenever they pleased. You hadn’t earned the right to do that yet. So, you made way to Strauss’ wagon, keeping a wide berth between you and Arthur. You didn’t feel like arguing anymore lest you end up boiling over with anger and saying something you didn’t mean, as you tended to do. Luckily, you saw his tall frame move from the spot where he had been leaning and retreat toward his holdings, away from you.

“Mister Strauss,” you said, making him pull his newspaper down from under his nose. “I’m afraid I find myself in need of some medicine.”

“Are you all right?”

“Fine, just need a health cure. Got grazed by a bullet.” You stopped in front of him and tilted the too-big hat up out of your eyes.

“Oh, I know the agonies of a graze,” he said, scrambling to pick something out for you. He pulled a tiny bottle from his wagon and handed it to you. “That should work well. It certainly helped me.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding his way and retreating. “I appreciate it.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, seemingly happy to be of use. You made your way back to your tent, drinking the bitter liquid down and trying not to wince at the taste. Once again, you caught the angry outlaw’s eyes. You stopped and thought about confronting him but decided against it. No point in raising hell. Instead, the two of you stared with harsh, set gazes, locking imaginary horns without a word.

Night fell over camp, and after staying up and talking with Sadie for a while, you decided to retire to your bedroll. You always had trouble falling right to sleep, but the medicine had relaxed your tense muscles, and unconsciousness fell over you with ease.

That is, until you were startled awake by someone nudging you with their boot. You quickly flipped over and reached down for the sidearm you kept near while you slept until you realized nothing was wrong and it was just Arthur. “Jesus, what the hell?” you said with a grogginess from being ripped from sleep. You slumped back down on your back.

“Get up.” You opened one eye and looked up at the handsome figure that towered over you, but you didn’t move a muscle. “Don’t make me sling you over my shoulder.”

“For god’s sake, Arthur,” you said as you rose with reluctance. “What’s so important that I gotta get up in the middle of the damn night?”

“You’re coming with me. Grab my hat and your boots, we gotta ride ahead of us.”

You groaned in annoyance at the request, stretching the sleep out of your frame. “A ride? What kind of twisted punishment-” You stopped talking when you noticed Arthur had already stalked off toward the horses. “Hmph.”

You grabbed his hat and put it on your own head, disoriented and wondering why he hadn’t just taken it back already. You grabbed your two guns, holstering the sidearm and resting the rifle over your shoulder by the strap, and followed the broody bastard. When you slung your leg over your sleepy mount, Arthur made a request that only confused you further. “No questions on the ride, you got me?”

“What?”

“Yeah, that. None of those until we get there. You don’t like to listen do you?”

He turned his horse to leave camp, and you followed suit. “Where is ‘there’ exactly?” He shook his head, his sandy hair swaying in the moonlight, but neglected to answer you. You rolled your tired eyes, unhappy about the situation you found yourself in. You showed his back your middle finger, making you smile in triumph.

After a few hours had passed and you were sure the sun would be rising soon, you found yourself crossing the Dakota River with a very tired horse and a very grumpy outlaw. You had relented to his request and hadn’t spoken another word, not because he asked but because you were too drained of energy for any conversation. The pair of stallions stepped high through the rushing water, giving every bit of energy to your and Arthur’s spurring. Finally, you spoke up for your mount’s sake. “We best be stopping soon or we’ll have to walk on foot.”

Without turning to look at you, Arthur replied. “The horses will be fine. Not much longer.”

Sure enough, he held true to his word. After less than a half hour, he stopped in front of a small cabin and stepped off of his horse to hitch it. Your exhaustion had begun to wear off and give way to suspicion. What was he planning? Did he know someone here? He looked over to you still on your horse with a questioning gaze. “You want me to come with you, or...”

“Come on,” he nodded, stepping onto the cabin’s small porch. You got off of your horse and stretched your aching legs before hitching and following Arthur.

He opened the door and let you walk through only for you to discover that it was empty. Now you were really suspicious, almost to the point of fear. “Okay, just what the hell is going on? Look, I know I screwed up but this is really starting to get-”

You turned to meet his gaze as he shut the door behind him and immediately lost your words. He was looking at you like an animal would, pupils blown wide, predatory. It turned you on slightly, but you were still a little scared of him. “You told me you wouldn’t cause any fuss on that score we took.”

He slowly stepped toward you, eyes devouring you. You were, quite frankly, scared out of your wits and just as turned on by his display. “I- I know I did, but-”

“Just had to get my hat, didn’t you? Why is that?” he said, still approaching you in such an intimidating manner that you gave a little ground and started to back up.

“I like your hat,” you said, reaching up to grab it.

“Nah, that ain’t it.” He held your eyes locked as he moved close enough for you to back into a nightstand behind you. “See,” he said, stopping to lean over you, placing his forearm on the wall above your head—trapping you. “I know you ain’t an idiot. You wouldn’t risk your life all over a hat you liked, one that ain’t even yours.”

You began to tilt your head down to escape his gaze, but he used his calloused finger to tilt your chin back up to him. Your heart pounded as you began to understand why he was such a good enforcer. You also wanted him to have you right then and there, but that was another thing entirely—a wild fantasy of yours that was uncalled for at the moment. “Maybe...” you said, gaining a little confidence again. “Maybe I knew I wasn’t risking my life to get it. Knew I would come out unscathed.”

“Unscathed?” he asked in a deep growl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “You call this unscathed?” He reached for your arm where the bullet had grazed you and gripped hard, making you wince in pain.

“Quit! Please, Arthur, I-”

“Nah, you better tell me the truth right now.” He ceased his firm grip but kept his large hand on your arm as a reminder of what pain he could cause. You began to panic. He was obviously interested in punishing you being so far away from civilization and from any other human being, and the feeling of being trapped with a very overpowered and very predatory man was making your breathing quicken. Should you tell him that you went back for it because you favored its owner so much or would that make him even angrier, gaining you worse punishment for being so impulsive? He suddenly slammed his hand on the wall behind your head, making you jump out of your skin. “Tell me!”

“Fine! I- it’s, it’s you! I grabbed it because it’s yours! Because I, well...”

“Go on,” he said with a grimace, lip curled over his teeth like a wolf. He had gotten so close to you it nearly made you turn your head away.

“Because I know how much it means to you. Being your father’s hat and all. I’ve seen the picture on your wagon.” You hoped this was a good enough excuse for him, as it wasn’t the whole truth.

He almost seemed to sense the guilt coming off of you. “You lie.” The growling words made your blood run cold. They would mean worse punishment. “You better tell me the goddamn truth right now,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

You felt a heat begin to build between your legs at his closeness and his voice and his harsh way. Fuck it, you thought, what was the worst that could happen? “I grabbed the hat because I want to gain the favor of the man who wears it,” you said calmly, holding his gaze. His expression didn’t change in the slightest, and you decided, again impulsively, to throw all your chips in. “Because I want him to fuck me.”

That was all it took. He snapped, pushing you up to sit on the nightstand and pressing his lips to yours with such force it hurt. Your head hit the wood behind you as he pushed against you, and his hat got pushed up off your head as a result. You grabbed it to keep it from falling off, suddenly very glad to have it on. His tongue immediately pushed past your teeth and into your mouth, all hot and dominant, and his hips pushed right between your legs. His hands ravished your body and began to work the buttons of your shirt as you brought your own hands around to his broad, muscled back. He distractedly and sloppily kissed you as he yanked your shirt apart, pulling the bottom two buttons clean off the shirt. You wanted to scold him for it but were too lost in the heat of his mouth to care.

You moved forward to get the shirt out from behind you and took it off completely. He stopped and looked down, realizing you had nothing on underneath the shirt. He had a dark hunger in his eyes as they raked over your body, and he reached his hand up to feel your breast and flick his thumb across your nipple. The sensation made you suck in a breath, and the sound drew his attention back to you, making him continue the pursuit of devouring your mouth.

You began to undress him then, taking off his familiar brown jacket he always wore and tugging his suspenders off his shoulders. Every touch he gave you was like fire licking your skin, and you suddenly couldn’t have enough of him. You pulled him in impossibly closer by his shirt collar, letting him continue claiming every inch of your mouth and using what little room you had to unbutton his shirt and take it off.

Just as suddenly as you had pulled him into you, you shoved him away, making him stumble a few steps backward. You had the overwhelming need to see him, that body he was hiding beneath all those layers. And you were met with quite a sight—his wide chest and chiseled torso were unfairly attractive. He flexed his muscles involuntarily as he heaved in breaths, watching your mouth part in desire at the sight of him.

He stepped back toward you and picked you up with ease, cupping your backside and crashing his hips to yours as he moved to lay you down on the small bed the cabin had to offer. You both kicked off your boots, stripped each other’s socks, and fought to undo the other’s gun belt and pants buttons. You remembered just as he shoved your pants down your legs that you had neglected to put anything on under your pants either. He pulled them completely off of your legs with what could be mistaken for anger but you knew to be desire, stepping back to admire your nearly completely naked form (apart from his own hat) for only a moment before he slammed his mouth against yours again. You sat up as best you could between his arms and slid his pants off as well, taking his undergarments off along with them. His cock sprang out of them and to attention, and the sight of it alone made you let out a low sound of arousal. He had more girth than any man you had ever seen, and you knew it would stretch you wide in a way you had never felt before. He stood just by the bedside and right in front of you, and when he saw how close your mouth was to his length, he put his hand on your hatted head and shoved you toward him.

Just before you took him into your mouth, you began to try to pull the hat off, as it was starting to get in the way. He swiftly caught your wrist, and you looked up at him in surprise. “Leave it on,” he growled with a dark gaze. You were again reminded of a predatory animal. “Gonna watch you take every inch of me with that hat sat right on your head. Teach you a damn lesson about obeying.” His words made you breathe heavier, made the heat between your legs form a rising pressure.

“Yes sir,” you said as you took him into your mouth, making him emit a long breath of pleasure as he rolled his hips a little to get used to the tightness. You used your tongue like you knew how, twisting and licking around his thick cock, running it over his head, licking down the underside. You looked up to see him tilt his head back with an expression of pure pleasure, then you began to move. You held one hand at his base and the other under his balls, taking him slowly at first to get used to him, then deeper as your throat relaxed. Arthur brought his head back down and placed his hand on the back of your head under the brim of his hat, suddenly snapping his hips forward, making his cock push at the back of your throat. The sensation made you gag, but you continued your work anyway as he started to fuck your mouth harshly, using you like a toy. Tears formed in your eyes at being used like this, but it turned you on something awful. You continued to work on him as best you could before he suddenly withdrew from your mouth, pulling you up and turning you around so that you were on your hands and knees on the bed, presented to him all glistening wet.

“All ready for me ain’t you? Want me to fuck you, girl?” He gently placed one hand on your hip just above your backside.

You weren’t embarrassed in the slightest about wanting to beg him. You had never wanted anyone more in your life. “Yes, please, Arthur. Please fuck me, I- oh!”

He spanked you hard, the sound resonating in the small room. You hadn’t expected the harsh slap and were sure that his strong hand had left a mark. “Remember what I said about obeying?”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll do it from now on, I’ll be good-” He spanked your ass again right in the same spot, leaving a stinging burn on your skin.

“That’s not why we’re here, is it? Why are we here?” You pondered his question, and because you hesitated, it gained you another sharp slap. “Answer me,” he said in his low growl.

“Because I need to be punished!” you yelled, hoping the quick answer would be enough to make him stop.

Sure enough, he rubbed circles on the skin that had grown irritated instead of spanking you again. “Good. You’re right, a little minx like you needs to be punished for not following direct orders.”

“I do. I need to be taught a lesson,” you begged, hoping you would feel his thick cock pushing into you instead of his calloused hands punishing you.

“A lesson, huh? Tell you what, for every minute I was waiting, worried sick that you had gone off and gotten yourself killed, earns one slap.” You hated to hear it. The spanking turned you on, but you didn’t think Arthur realized how strong he was and how much it hurt. He spanked you again, and you let out a soft moan of pain. “That’s one. The first minute I realized you were gone.” He spanked you again, even harder, making tears prick at your eyes. “Two. When I pondered going back to find you.” He spanked you again. “Three. When I realized going back would probably mean finding you dead.” He spanked impossibly harder, making you yelp in pain. “Four. When I knew that it could be a trap for me to go back and I would just have to wait.” He gave three slaps in quick succession, not as harsh as the others. “The three minutes waiting in camp for you.”

Then, he gave you one last slap across the ass, so hard that you cried out in pain. “Arthur, please!”

“That one was for your sorry ass riding into camp like you owned the place with that hat on your head, mouthing off to me like you knew better.” You waited in silence, hoping he was finished. “And then,” he said, rubbing circles into your raised, abused skin again. “You had the bright idea to parade my hat around camp like a trophy for the rest of the day, showing everyone just who was in charge.” His words worried you, knowing you would probably get another spanking for that, but Arthur didn’t move his hand from your backside. Instead, he leaned over you enough that you could feel his cock rest against your skin, and he used his hand to grip your jaw and force you to look at him. “I’ll tell you who’s in charge girl,” he growled. You watched as he took his hat from your head and placed it on his own before digging his fingers into your hips and ramming his whole length into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Arthur!” You didn’t have a second to adjust to his girth as he started to move, slowly but completely and filling you up so much it hurt. The anticipation of him fucking you was enough to put you close to your climax before he even entered you, but his movement slowed your build back down, making you want to be completely ravished by him first.

He didn’t give you long to experience this though, as he held his grip tight on your hip with one hand but reached down with the other to brush against your clit. His touch lit your nerves on fire, and your back caved in response, giving him a better angle to hit your sweet spot. He began to run circles around that bundle of nerves, still fucking you slow and steady but fully. It drove you mad. You thought about how he had taken his hat off your head and put it back on his own, the hottest fucking image that would ever be burned into your memory, and he suddenly flicked his finger harshly across your clit, making you emit a sound so obscene that it would make anyone blush. “That’s right. Easy, girl.” His drawn out words made you pant. You were in such a deep pleasure that you were almost scared to feel how harshly your orgasm would rip through you.

Arthur didn’t give you any time to recover, speeding up slightly as he hit a perfect spot within you over and over again, circling his thick finger on your clit faster and faster until you knew you were doomed. “I’m close,” you panted.

“Look at me,” he said in a breathless voice. “Wanna see your face when I make you fall apart. Make you submit to me.” His words pushed you further, and with one last circle of his finger, he slammed into you hard, and you yelled out loud, being pushed over the edge by the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. It crashed into you in waves, and every nerve in your body rang out in pleasure. Your muscles tensed around Arthur’s length, making him groan too. His noise only stretched your pleasure out further, and your whole body went taut with it. It was a wasteland, the after effects thrumming through you.

Your audible panting finally slowed, and Arthur cooed at you. “That’s my girl.” He didn’t give you long though before he started chasing his own high. He placed both hands back on your hips and dug his fingers in so harshly you knew there would be bruises left behind. He quickened his pace that grew more and more brutal, and you grew overly sensitive as he started to snap his hips and bury his cock deep inside of you. His breathing began to be audible now, as it was his turn to use you up and lose himself. He went impossibly faster. He leaned over you then and changed his angle, and the sensation along with the overstimulation made you come for the second time and moan the same loud obscenity as before, a sound that began to push him over the edge. You could feel his movement start to stutter and lose rhythm as your muscles tightened around his cock again. He sat up suddenly and slammed into you, stopping dead as he came deep inside of you and yelled out his pleasure. You turned to see the most bliss-filled, erotic face beneath the brim of that hat. It made you want him even more, all over again. He breathed heavily as he came down from his high, leaning over you. “You’re mine,” he panted. He slipped out of you, and as his come dripped out of your entrance and slowly ran down your inner thigh, you knew he was right. “You gonna obey me now?” he asked as he moved you with him to lay on the bed.

“If that’s my punishment, maybe not,” you said with a smile. “Then again, I think you look better in that hat than I do, so I’ll think twice next time about sticking my neck out for it for my own sake.”

“Good. Don’t ever do that again,” he said, looking deep into your eyes to make his seriousness known.

“I won’t,” you replied, knowing that somehow, the words rang true—you were willing to obey him now.

He turned over and rolled on top of you, catching your gaze with a playful one of his own. “You’re wrong about the hat. You look better in it.” He reached for it again, placing it back on your head. “Saw you ride in with it on and knew I had to fuck it right off of that pretty little head.”

“Arthur Morgan!” you chided. “So crude.” You flashed him a teasing gaze.

“Mmm. Can’t resist.” You didn’t know what he was referring to resisting, but as he moved forward and gave you another long, deep kiss, pushing the hat backward on your head once more, you ceased to care.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #low honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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colter-morning · 1 year

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The Hat (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Author’s Notes: This was the first fic I ever wrote, and wow is it amazing to see how far I’ve come! But this one will always have a special place in my heart <3 Set during Chapter 3 in game.