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holycryptid · 8 days

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low honour!arthur morgan x virgin!reader

this is really just one long-winded fic idea that i need to speak into existence.

tags: literally save a horse ride a cowboy, afab!reader (feminine pronouns, descriptions, and names used), religious topics/imagery, obsessive!arthur, virginity kink, age gap relationship, loss of virginity, corruption kink

Reader is in her early 20s, privileged to come from a family with wealth from their heritage and inheritance in the oil industry.

The era of cowboys and outlaws has started to become a thing of the past from the shifts in climate and industry throughout the country. Reader has resided in Saint Denis her whole life, never needing to worry about gangs, outlaws, or even cowboys.

She has never even seen a cowboy before, but she’s heard stories; none of them particularly pretty. The presence of law enforcement throughout the streets and the sheer distance of Saint Denis from other towns is enough to deter most of them from causing trouble.

Functionally, she should never be compatible with a cowboy.

Her father has always preached about her waiting for a “good, proper man” that can marry her into another family with obscene wealth. And so, she protects her chastity and innocence just as she is expected to—just as her father expects her to.

Hell, she doesn’t even know how to ride a horse! Her father believes that riding horses is beneath them, so anywhere she wants to go is accommodated by a stagecoach.

Cut to: reader is accompanying her father on a trip to Annesburg to discuss potential investments in the mining industry. He hates leaving her alone. She knows he worries that she’ll get “up to no good”.

Her father has chosen one of their more comfortable, flashy stagecoaches for the longer ride, giving him more storage for his financial documents and whatnot. A perfect target for gangs.

And, inevitably, they get robbed.

The robbers’ faces are all concealed by hats and bandanas, and one of them ties her arms behind her back with careful hands before guiding her to her knees on the wet grass.

The man who tied her up stays close by her side, and she can see her father pleading for his life to another man who’s not listening.

“Are you a cowboy?” Are the first words she says to him, not a note of fear in her doll-like eyes that make her look so fuckable in this position with her on her knees next to him, dress billowing out around her form.

He looks down at her confused. “Uh, once, I suppose.” His voice is a little muffled by the black bandana hanging over his nose and mouth.

She can see that his hair is so long that it starts to curl up and out at the ends under his hat.

“Well, you got the hat. And the horse,” she reasons, wondering if she’s truly meeting a cowboy under circumstances she thought she’d never be in.

He looks to her again, left hand causally hooked in the leather of his belt as he waits for the rest of his gang to finish up. “I guess you’re right.” He tips his head to her in agreement.

“Leave them! These people are leeches. Let the wolves decide their fate.” A man with a deep, booming voice announces atop his white horse.

Now she starts to panic.

She pulls against the rope around her wrists, looking up to the man who tied her as he begins to walk toward his horse. “Wait! Mister, please! Please don’t. Please,” she yells to him.

He looks back to her, then his horse, then back to her again. “Hold on.” He signals to the man on the white horse before walking back over to her.

“Take me home. Please just take me home, mister. I won’t say nothing, I promise, but just take me home and I’ll give you anything you want,” she begs to him.

He sighs, but not out of annoyance or hesitation for her request. He sighs because he has no idea what she has just done to herself.

He places his bandana over her eyes and leads her to his horse. He unties her hands and lets her blindly climb into the saddle, legs shaking from unfamiliarity.

When she settles, she blindly grips onto the saddle horn for dear life, wishing her father let her ride at least once in her life so she wouldn’t appear so delicate in this situation. The man chuckles off to the side before mounting up behind her. She notices the saddle is not quite meant for two as he pushes in tightly against her ass, seemingly not even concerned about it.

This is probably the closest she’s ever been to a man.

“Where to, miss?” The man leans forward against her back to grab the reigns, caging her in with his arms.

She tells him in a quiet voice, and he kicks against his horse, setting them into motion.

When they arrive at her French two-story home on the outskirts of Saint Denis, the man dismounts swiftly, hand circling her wrist before saying, “Swing your right leg over and I’ll help you down.”

She slowly brings herself around, feeling the man lock his hands around her waist to guide her to the ground.

He tugs at the knot holding the bandana around her eyes, and she doesn’t let herself turn around until she feels he’s had enough time to tie it back around his face.

“Thank you, mister,” she whispers.

He tips his hat and leaves without another word.

In the following week, the man watches her after the sun sets. He watches her pray before bed and change into her silk nightgown, waiting for the night he can maybe finally see the more explicit side of her. But it never comes.

She’s perfect.

Eventually they cross paths again one day. The man purposefully chooses to ditch the bandana, too.

“I don’t think my daddy would appreciate me talking to someone like you,” she admits slyly as she continues her trek into Saint Denis.

The man follows beside her on his horse, left arm lazily hanging down by his side. “Someone like me? And who’s that?” he asks, a slight smile also on his lips.

“A cowboy. An outlaw,” she says, sneaking a glance up to him as his horse steps in time with her down the path.

“Well your daddy ain’t here.”

“No, mister.”

“Come for a ride then.”

And that’s how it’s starts for them. He introduces himself as they ride to his gangs camp, and she complains about how sore her legs are when they arrive.

“You don’t ride?” Arthur asks, intending for it to be a joke.

“That was my second time. Ever,” she laughs.

And that’s when he understands what type of lady he’s dealing with, so he goes for it.

“Maybe you should practice on me sometime,” he remarks, untacking his horse.

She wonders if she heard him right. “Uh, mister—”

“Arthur,” he corrects.

In that moment, she realizes he can teach her everything her father has kept from her, show her everything he had protected her from. Throw away the innocence and chastity and truly experience what life should be. But Arthur doesn’t know the entirety of her sheltered life. He needs someone like him.

“Arthur…I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” she admits. “I…I’ve never been with no one. Ever.”

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Just as my daddy said I should be. Until marriage.”

And Arthur makes it his mission to make her experience her own sexuality in its completeness, so he starts off slow.

He would always touch, never breaching her or letting her do anything to him. The focus was always on her.

Her virginity and pureness made him conflicted: he wanted to ruin her in all the ways she has never been, but he wants to tease and rile her up and watch her experience all the sexual frustrations for the first time.

It was cute. The more bold he got with his touches, the more bold she got in trying to take what she wanted. He would take her behind a tree and slowly lift up the dainty material of her summer dress, gathering it in his left hand as he used his right to rub her clit through her underwear while he licked and sucked along her neck, careful not to leave marks.

She would get weak so fast, Arthur could barely handle how virgin her body truly was. She would grip onto the leather straps of the rifles hanging down his back, trying to force his hand harder and faster.

However, the first time he made her cum was an accident.

He confidently placed a gentle kiss on her lips while they were alone in his tent—he just wanted to see how she would react.

She leaned in and returned it, snaking her hands around his neck and pulling him down to her. He pulled her into his lap, laying them down on his cot as they started making out like a long-distance high-school couple.

Arthur mindlessly starts grinding against her, ignoring the clothing separating them. She doesn’t realize what she’s feeling as Arthur’s hard cock slides against her clothed pussy.

Her orgasm just kind of happens.

Arthur watches her shake and twitch under him as he pulls away to see what happened. The wet spot on her underwear is all the evidence he needs.

Ever since, she’s been insatiable. She wants Arthur to show her everything. Teach her everything. She wants to feel everything if that means she can cum like that again.

Around the campfire she’d sit on his lap, tightly circling her hips against him until he’d grow hard before stopping. Then she’d do it again.

Arthur would mostly ignore her teasing. He didn’t want her to know how much she was driving him up the wall, so he’d retaliate in a way that was ten times worse then whatever she did just to prove a point about her innocence, how she knows so little compared to him.

The first time they fuck, he makes the horse riding joke again: “I’m sure this’ll be good practice for you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a laugh, rubbing his cock through her folds as she straddles him. He’s built up her confidence so much, it’s all been leading to this.

He’d guide her up and down, back and forth, testing her body to see what she likes. Seeing what spot makes her tremble.

He finds it. “Fuck, there it is,” Arthur groans.

She can’t even think. She doesn’t know what to think. She’s doing everything her father told her not to.

Premarital sex.

Premarital sex with a cowboy.

“Oh, Lord, forgive me,” she prays, her pussy sliding so perfectly along him as he grips her hips harder.

Eventually, he’d eat her out in her childhood bedroom. Her father sleeping in the room above her own, separated by the thin wood of the floor. She arches against the bed, and her eyes meet the iron cross hung above her bed frame.

She’d often ask him to leave the hat on, and he’d laugh, pleased that she is slowly adopting sexual preferences and interests.

She was his perfect, sophisticated woman that he was free to defile and poison with his desires.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 smut #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #red dead redemption 2 fanfic

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lordofthecherubs · 2 months

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You're so pretty when I'm all over your mouth

“Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”

“Please, do.”

And you were going to lick the plate clean.

Warnings/Tags: Smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Takes place during the Shady Belle Arc. Reader is a vampire.

The sound of crickets chirping amongst the soft breeze the wind provided was all that distracted you from what was truly on the forefront of your mind right now.

It was that time of the month.

And no, not that time. This was something different.

It was time for you to feed.

Typically, whenever you had these urges, they would go away from simply taking the blood of various animals that you hunted. That’s why you always liked to go hunting alone, unlike Hosea or Charles.

This would have been an easy effort to maintain had it not been for Dutch constantly making the gang move from place to place due to his inability to keep quiet and stay out of the limelight. Constantly having to pack up and go as quick as you could, it reminded you all too much of the incidents in Blackwater, where you lost Jenny and Davey. If only you had more time, you might’ve been able to save them. But you were weak then, and you’re becoming weak now.

Now, the gang resides in a camp they call Shady Belle. It was pretty spacious in comparison to other places you had stayed, an abandoned home in the center of the property. Some members of the gang got to stay inside it, while the rest opted (some more begrudgingly than others), to remain outside in their tents. While Miss Grimshaw had originally wanted you take a place inside the building, you declined; insisting it belong to Abigail and Jack.

So, here you were in your tent. It was on the smaller side, and only provided a slight amount of privacy. Not that you needed much, given the fact the gang had all seen each other at their worst and their best. However, given your… condition, it would’ve been nice to have a place where you weren’t entirely aware of everything going on around you. Along with the urge to drain the blood out of somethings body for your own sake, your senses were heightened. Every smell, feeling, and noise was on another level. You couldn’t miss the way you heard slightly heavy breaths from the tent nearest to yours if you tried. It was Arthur’s tent.

Arthur was one of the most respected members in the gang. In a way, it was like he was Dutch’s son. He also happened to be one of the few who could bring you out of your shell, as strange as that sounded. He was just different. Of course you liked to hang around and drink with the guys, while simultaneously spending time with the women and helping with chores. But you couldn’t help but detach yourself from them. You were hiding something. They were not.

Maybe Arthur was too. Maybe that’s why you feel like you can be yourself around him.

Maybe that’s why the way his slightly musky scent drifting into your direction made your mouth water.

No, stop it. Do not feed on people. Especially people you know.

You couldn’t help but shift around in your makeshift bed, the only thought consuming your head being hunger. Perhaps it would be best to just go hunt a rabbit, but it was far too risky to go alone as you felt yourself growing weaker by the minute.

Letting out a low groan of annoyance, you shoved your paling face into your pillow, hoping that maybe you’d be able to just sleep it off. The sound of crickets and frogs along the shore filled your ears, and you urged yourself to just go to sleep, forcing your eyes shut.

A throat cleared itself behind you.

Almost instantly, you shot up into a defensive position, having not heard whoever it was walk up to where you were.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Arthur.

You relaxed back onto your bed, sighing out in relief before making eye contact with the man in front of you.

“It’s okay, you didn’t scare me, just hadn’t heard you walk up is all.” You half-lied.

The cowboy let out a laugh. “Didn’t scare you? You looked like a bat outta hell!”

You’re sure he didn’t intend for that to be a pun.

“I just came to see if you were alright. You been tossin’ and turnin’ all night by the sounds of it.”

Of course he noticed.

Arthur noticed a lot of things when it came to you, weirdly enough. He took note of how your skin was always cold despite sitting in front of the campfire, and the way your ears were able to hear things that he wouldn’t have until a few minutes later.

“Oh.” You began to grow nervous, rubbing the back of your neck. “Y-yeah, I’m alright, couldn’t really get to sleep.”

He nodded, pretending not to see through the way you were lying to him. He was determined to dig deeper, for some reason.

“You wanna go on a walk with me?”

***

Upon reaching the entrance of the Shady Belle property, you found Arthur waiting for you, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

“All ready to go?” He asked, tossing it to the ground before grinding it down beneath his boot.

All you did was nod, hoping he would take the lead with things tonight.

It couldn’t have been any later than midnight, you were surprised at his admission to not being able to sleep either. Normally, you’d be able to strike up a playful conversation with Arthur easily. But tonight, you were on edge. You hoped he didn’t notice.

As the two of you headed deeper into the forest surrounding the camp, Arthur broke the silence again.

“So, what’s got you up all night, cowpoke? Regretting not taking a room in the house now?” He joked, though you could tell his question was coming from a place of genuine concern.

You forced a laugh, fiddling with the leather of your holster. “I guess you could say that,” you quietly agreed, avoiding eye contact. There was a heat burning in your chest. God, did he smell this good all the time?

“You’re not lyin’ to me now, are ya?” The cowboy pressed, stopping in his tracks beside a tree.

You looked up, attempting to read his face for a motive. But, classic Arthur Morgan style, he lowered his head, leaving his face covered by a black cowboy hat.

You didn’t have the energy to play along with his games tonight.

“And if I am?”

You hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but the humid warmth of the air sticking to your skin mixed with his overbearingly strong scent, you couldn’t help but grow antsy.

Arthur raised his head, green eyes piercing into yours. His expression remained unreadable, though you could tell he was searching for what to say, leaving the tension between you two so thick it could be cut with a knife.

The outlaw didn’t hide the way he looked you up and down, and had it been anyone else, you wouldn’t have welcomed his approaching proximity so easily.

Standing before you, staring down at you, you couldn’t make out what he was trying to do. Intimidate you? That wasn’t like him.

At first, you remained looking at his chest, a button down shirt was all that stayed in your line of sight before him.

“Look at me,” He softly said. “Please.”

Inhaling sharply, you raised your head, craning your neck upwards to find his gaze. “If somethin’s botherin’ you, if someone did somethin’…” He trailed off, examining your face for any emotion.

You let a few beats pass before answering. You needed time to think. What do you say to that? You can’t tell him what’s really going on, but you didn’t want to lie either.

The wind blew a couple leaves around the two of you, stray pieces of hair on Arthur’s forehead moving along with them. You bit your tongue momentarily, as if that would satiate the urge to sink your teeth into the exposed skin of his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

This was becoming impossible.

“It’s nothing like that, Arthur. I-It’s…” You focused on your words carefully. “It’s just something you wouldn’t understand.”

A bit harsh, but sometimes things needed to be that way. Otherwise he’d confuse you for glass and see right through you.

You could tell he was a bit hurt by those words, the way his jaw clenched was proof enough. However, he wanted to help. He wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Then help me understand.”

The cowboy stepped closer. Closer than he had ever been before. It was all becoming too much, those same heightened senses betraying you all at once. His slightly sweaty skin shining in the moonlight, looking so desperate to have your teeth sunk into it. His overbearing scent filling your nose, making your mouth water.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“I don’t know if I can, Arthur.”

Thinking logically, what could you even say to him? Hey, Arthur, I know we’ve been running together in the gang for this long, but I forgot to mention that I’m a vampire! And, if you step any closer to me, I may lose my mind, draining your blood in the process!

Knowing Arthur, there were two reactions he could have to that. Laughing in your face, or killing you on the spot.

Both were not favorable.

Calloused fingers caressed your face, his palm held your cheek upwards to ensure you were looking at him.

“Try. For me, cowpoke.”

Maybe this is how he would kill you.

Maybe you would like it.

You were sure your eyes were glazed over at this point. Your fangs poked the inside of your cheek, and your mouth filled with saliva at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. You wouldn’t last much longer like this.

With a shaky breath, you decided it was now or never.

“There’s just… something I need, but can’t exactly get. At least— not on my own.” You attempted to explain, lacking attention in the possible underlying tones your words carried.

Arthur gulped, sweat growing behind his neck. Clearly, his mind had gone south. “You mean…”

You knew what he thought you meant, and you stepped closer to where he stood, the already small distance between the two of you was nearly entirely closed up.

“No, Arthur,” You nearly pushed yourself forward into his chest, grasping at his shoulder to make him lean down, attempting to get your voice in his ear.

“I want your blood.” You said, just above a whisper.

Arthur pulled back, wanting to meet your eyes and make sense of the situation. What he was met with would never leave his head.

The once confident outlaw cowboy nearly buckled his knees at your gaze. Your eyes, full of want, something he thought he would never see from you in his life.

Chills ran up and down his spine, the same he’d get but never admit to having when finding himself cornered by an enemy.

Only, these were different. He almost wanted to lean into it. He almost needed it.

You looked at him like he was a meal.

Something stiffened in his pants.

And you could smell it. The aroma of arousal flooded you, making you swipe your tongue out from inside your mouth and slide over your lips. It was then that he caught a glimpse of your fangs, eyes widening.

The man realized he hadn’t spoken up since your initial comment, clearing his throat the same way he did when he creeped up on you at your tent.

“You can have it. It’s yours.”

What a careless thing to say.

In an instant, almost like a choreographed dance, you launched yourself forward, Arthur wrapping his hands around your waist as you clung to him, listening to the way your breathing grew heavy beside his ear.

“Mine, huh?” You heaved, teasingly dragging your teeth along his neck, loving the way he weakly lowered himself to his knees, soon laying flat on his back with you straddled on top of him.

Your palms laid flat against his chest, and you leaned down to lick over the spot you intended to sink your teeth into. Your jaw fell slack as you prepared to take your feast, but you paused when you felt something poke your behind.

A devious laugh erupted from you. “What’s this?” You asked, reaching a hand behind you to palm at his throbbing erection.

Arthur wiped a hand down his face. “Can’t help it when you’re on me like this, angel.”

Angel. His chosen term of endearment was angel. You could hear the way his heart pounded in his chest, the mixed scent of fear and arousal clouded around him, and he still called you angel.

Pressing your hips down to grind against him, you drank in the way he threw his head back instantly, his hat knocking off his head to display messy brown hair.

"Oh, cowboy, I’m going to eat you alive.”

“Please, do.”

And you were going to lick the plate clean.

The heat of his skin was becoming too much for you to hold back any longer, nearly launching forward towards his neck with your teeth bared. Without any warning, you snapped your fangs into him. The skin was soft, though tender, given the fact that he was a muscular man.

And he whined.

Arthur Morgan, killer, robber, and wanted man across states and cities, whined.

The cowboy’s firm hand steadied on your hips, his grip nearly bruising. The feeling of his neck being punctured into and fed from left him lightheaded, and he pleaded with himself to not pass out. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.

The sound of you humming feverishly against his skin, nails digging into his shoulders, and the slight continuous grind of your hips onto where he needed it most, he felt like he was in a dream.

After a few minutes, the initial point of penetration didn’t hurt anymore, leaving his senses to align with what he was feeling next. To ask a man with as limited of a vocabulary as he had to describe the feeling of the blood being drained from his body was a mistake. Because, he wouldn’t know what to say, other than that it was perfect.

The same way Reverend Swanson was addicted to substances, or John to troublemaking, he could become addicted to this.

Time passed, and you eventually pulled away, a mess of drool and blood left on the cowboys neck and your lips.

He wanted to kiss you. Your lips were swollen and covered in the red substance, your hair a mess atop your head, and your eyes half-lidded. He needed to kiss you.

“I’m sorry, that was probably really—“

The same rough hand from before grabbed behind your neck, pulling you down to his lips for a desperately rough kiss, the metallic taste of himself causing him to buck his hips upwards into nothing.

It had to be nearing morning now. The air had lost it’s humidity, and if not for the heat growing between the two of you, it would’ve been cold enough for goosebumps to litter your skin.

The cowboy didn’t hear a word you said, regaining his strength and flipping you over so that he was now on top of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed beneath him.

“Aw, gone shy on me now, cowpoke?” Arthur teased, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

He leaned down and kissed you again, though this time, he didn’t remain on your lips for long. The scruff of his stubble prodded against your skin as he lowered himself down, kissing your neck and collarbones.

“You said you were gonna eat me alive, right, angel?” He asked, holding himself up to look down at you.

Your cheeks flushed, and you nodded, avoiding his eyes.

“Looks like you held back. Can’t have been easy for you, sweet thing, I know,” He paused, grabbing your cheeks roughly to force you to look at him. “I think you deserve a reward.”

Brows pitched upwards on your face, your hips subconsciously rolled upwards at his gravelly voice and sudden dominant nature.

A smirk filled the outlaws face, and he reached down to undo the top buttons of your pants.

“Now, you’re not so desperate you’d take my blood and want me to fuck you, are you cowpoke?”

Biting down on your lip, you didn’t care that you nearly caused yourself to bleed.

Arthur’s large hand reached into your pants, his fingers prodding over the wet spot in your panties.

He hummed. “Guess you are.”

You reached out to dig your nails into his arm as he rubbed his fingers against your bundle of nerves, silently pleading with him for more.

“Gotta use your words, angel. Can’t know what you want ‘less you tell me.”

“P-please, Arthur…need you,” You pleaded, opting to reach down and pull down your pants for him.

The cowboy stopped you in your tracks, pulling them down gently the rest of the way, admiring the way your slick glistened in the moonlight.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He was growing light-headed from the blood loss, and if his pants got any tighter, he might’ve lost his mind right then and there.

With that, he shoved his own pants down along with his boxers, revealing his length to you.

At first, you stared, shocked. The way it bobbed upwards and throbbed, leaking from the tip, you felt bad for teasing him.

Then, gone went your own undergarments, your bottom half on full display to Arthur. If someone told you a few hours ago you’d be in the situation you were in right now, you’d laugh in their face.

But here you are, Arthur Morgan on top of you, lining himself up with your dripping mess of a cunt.

“If it’s too much, tell me.” He said, clearly trying to keep his composure above you.

All it took was a nod, and he slowly pushed himself forward into you, causing you both to gasp.

The grip you had on his arm tightened, the slight pain of him stretching you out engulfing your senses.

Arthur, on the other hand, was doing everything in his power not to slam himself into you without any time to adjust.

He was nicer than that, so he refrained by biting down on his lip. He wouldn’t last long like this, with the way you were so tight around him, pulling him deeper inside.

Once he was fully inside you, Arthur allowed you some time to get used to him, admiring the way you looked beneath him.

“Just tell me when you’re—“

“For the love of God, Arthur. If you don’t move I’m going to lose my mind.” You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Pulling out slightly, then thrusting forward, he couldn’t help the way a groan slipped past his lips.

But it was nothing compared to you. Typically, you liked to remain modest and not cause too much commotion. Though, was that at all possible when a cowboy just let you drink his blood, and was now fucking you like it was nothing?

It was almost overwhelming, the way you both came together like this. You had been so wound up, the feeling of the band in your stomach snapping was approaching rapidly, and it didn’t help when he reached down and began to rub at your clit, a new wave of pleasure added on top of what you were already experiencing.

It was all too much, really. In the best way possible.

“A-Arthur, ‘m close…” You warned, eyes nearly shut as you whined loudly.

“I know, angel, me too,” He said between thrusts, groaning out momentarily. “Need you to be good and cum for me, okay? Can you do that, darlin’?”

You nodded quickly, as if you had any say in the matter.

It all happened so fast, white-hot pleasure you had never felt before ripping through your entire body, tears filling your eyes as you reached a climax like no other. Not far behind, Arthur’s speed was growing sloppy, and he readied to pull himself out of you, but you grabbed his arm again.

“Inside, please,” You begged, cheeks stained with tears as you looked up at him. Almost instantly, that was enough for him. His hips snapped forward, releasing himself inside of you as per your wishes.

The sound of labored breathing filled your ears as he fell down on top of you, catching his breath. You were content to lay on the ground like this with him forever if he’d let you, but you knew he would have questions as soon as he gathered his senses.

Arthur rolled off of you, matching you by laying on his own back, his hand wiping sweat from his forehead.

A beat of silence.

“…So, you’re a vampire, then?”

You wanted to giggle at the bluntness of his question.

“Yes, you could call it that,” You hummed, turning your head to look at him. A drop of blood began to slide down his neck, and you almost instantly shot your hand forward to wipe it with your thumb, bringing it to your mouth.

It was greedy. But he liked it.

Another beat of silence.

“D’you think the camp heard us?”

You both erupted into laughter, soon ending in the cowboy pulling you onto himself, assaulting your face with kisses.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while now, cowpoke.”

You met his eyes. “Do what? Fuck me in the woods just outside camp, or let me suck your blood?”

Arthur flicked your forehead gently.

“Kiss you, smartass.”

So he did it again. And again. And again until you had to push him away because it started to tickle you, and the rising sun began to appear in the corner of your eye.

“We should head back, Arthur.”

“In a minute, I wanna see these things…” He muttered, using his fingers to part your jaw and expose your fangs. “Jesus! Those were inside my neck?”

Playfully, you bit down on his finger. “Sure were, now stop stalling.”

There were more questions that weighed on his mind, but he knew you probably wanted to get back and relieve yourself into some much needed sleep.

Helping you up, you leaned into his side while his arm wrapped around you, the two of you quietly making your way to camp, dawn breaking.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #vampire reader #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan x vampire reader #smut #rdr2 smut #vampire au #Arthur Morgan one shot #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #red dead redemption 2 fic #idk how tags work on here #Spotify

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mlmxreader · 4 months

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Don't You Shiver | Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ you already know what’s up. arthur morgan x gn!reader

"Do you want your hoodie back?" "Keep it. It's yours."

but instead of hoodie it’s one of arthur’s jackets? pls and thank u mwah mwah ^_^ - @mockerycrow ❞

: ̗̀➛ Arthur cares a lot about you, so it's no surprise that he does what he can to help when you come back to camp less than happy.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Your hands smelled of cheap cigarettes and whisky as you wandered back into camp behind Charles, a little bit embarrassed that you had wasted his time on fool's gold.

You thought it had been a perfectly good lead at the time, and with Charles’ skills complimenting your own, you figured that the two of you would have had it done and dusted by noon the same day. But now it was dusk, you were shivering, and you felt like an idiot.

You kept your head down and your gaze on the ground, not even trying to talk to Charles even though he reassured you time and time again that he didn't mind - he enjoyed the nice day out with you.

It wasn't often that the two of you had much time to spend together despite your strong friendship, and even though you had been an idiot… you did admit, you appreciated his company at the very least.

Before he left you for the evening, Charles pulled you aside, and once again told you that he didn't mind; it happened, sometimes leads didn't work out and even he had had his fair share of bad luck here and there. He wasn't going to hold it against you.

However, you felt terrible when you snuck into Arthur's tent, going through your clothes as he sat on his cot and watched you for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side.

It wasn't until he saw you shiver that he put two and two together and frowned; he got up and grabbed his semi-decent brown hunting jacket, and gently pressed it into your hands as he smiled.

“It's warm,” he told you quietly. “It'll help.”

You tugged it on, pressing your face against the collar of the coat for a moment and humming under your breath; you were always stealing Arthur's clothes, if you were honest, but he never minded.

He liked to see you wearing them, mostly because he knew that most of his coats were a lot warmer and a lot better for cold climates than your own. But he also… admittedly, he liked to think that everyone would realise that it was his jackets, and they would know that you and Arthur belonged to one another as well and that they couldn't do anything.

He ushered you out of the tent and over to the scout fire, letting you sit with your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder, his arms around you tightly. He hoped that it would aid in warming you up, maybe even speed the process a little bit.

You didn’t even flinch, leaning into him and doing your best to steal some of his warmth as you sighed and swallowed thickly; you brought the thick brown leather to your face, pressing it against your mouth and nose and inhaling the scent for a moment as you closed your eyes.

You were a little warmer now, but you still couldn’t shake the icy feeling deep within your bones and in your shaking hands as you grumbled softly and shook your head.

Arthur turned to look at you, frowning as he gently tugged you a little closer. “I’ll get you some coffee and-”

“Wait,” you murmured softly, almost under your breath as you tugged at the sleeve of his blue denim-coloured shirt. “I don’t wanna be alone in the cold.”

He sighed, nodding as he settled back down; he did his best to think of a few ways to get you to warm up, but unfortunately for him, all of them would mean leaving you, and you didn’t seem so keen on the idea.

So he pulled out two cigarettes, lighting them before handing one to you and doing his best not to smile at how you tried to get closer to him, almost straddling his waist as you squirmed. He grumbled, his grip on you tightening as he kept your back steady against his chest and shook his head.

You stopped shivering eventually, pulling away from him so that you could shrug the jacket off, holding it in your hands as the flames seemed to follow you wherever you went.

“Do you want your jacket back?”

“Keep it. It’s yours, now,” Arthur told you with a short shake of his head. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled, a glint of something mischievous in your eyes. “You say that about everything of yours that I borrow.”

He shrugged, leaning back slightly to get a good look at you; with the flames so close, Arthur could have sworn that you looked just like something out of an old folktale.

A great, fair king; beloved by his people and as just as he was humble. He wanted to grin and to laugh at the thought, but he could only hum as he pulled out his journal and held it up for you to look at for a moment.

“Mind if I…”

You shook your head. “Not at all, where’d you want me?”

Arthur balanced his journal on his knee as he looked up at you, the tip of his tongue pointing out of the corner of his mouth. “Just stay there.”

You did as you were told, running your thumb across the lapel of Arthur’s jacket as you stood patiently. You could hear the scratch of his pencil against the paper, and how he hummed under his breath as he stole a look at you every now and then.

It was never uncommon for Arthur to draw you, you caught him doing it often enough that you knew he had pages of it; yet every time he actually asked, every time he told you to stay still so that he could do it, you couldn’t help but to feel rather giddy.

To know that you would forever be immortalised by his fair hand, to know that he loved you to the point of creation. You bit at the inside of your lip, doing your best not to grin in case it spoiled his latest masterpiece.

330 notes · View notes

cowboyfromh3ll · 6 months

Note

So, hypothetically speaking,

If the reader gets so drunk, maybe at Sean's welcome home party, or when jack is rescued

And this is hypothetical...

She's in a relationship with arthur... and he's away from camp, or sleeping.

And hypothetically,

John as feelings for her, and she stumbles into John's room thinking that its Arthur's.

Again, this is hypothetical.

AND HYPOTHETICALLY, john takes a chance and pretends to be Arthur because he's just SO jealous of their relationship, and they end up having sex.

Taking What’s Not Yours

(John Marston x Fem!Reader Smut)

THIS WAS SO GODDAMN FUN RAHHH. John is a fucked up individual in this, I put a lot of thought into how I wrote his line of thinking.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, noncon, dubcon, drunk sex, smut, infidelity

Your first thought was that Shady Belle had never looked so bright.

From a distance, the camp might have appeared as a glowing orb of orange light in the woods; an inviting incandescent illumination. A large, brightly lit campfire served as the heart of a celebration, and here and there was the blurry green blinking of fireflies. The occasional oil lamp littered around camp to unveil the darkness, acting as checkpoints in the path towards the doors of the house. But for every bit of light there was the accompanying joy and laughter and bliss.

The alcohol coursing and spreading warmth through your body eased you into a state of content relaxedness. Your consciousness was heavily veiled, a cotton like feeling resulting in a comfortable haziness. Every nerve and chemical in your body telling you to relax, and every movement felt somnambulant. The lively chatter and inebriated song of the gang seemed so close yet so far, as if you had just stepped out on the front porch of a house party and the music continued to boom from inside. Dimly, you remembered the reason for the celebration was Jack’s safe return to camp; you had planted a maternal kiss to his forehead in welcome before he was thrummed away at the center of the celebration. Life was good, and all your other troubles didn’t matter right now. Though the cool condensation of the bottle collecting in a small ring of water around your thumb and pointer as you firmly grasped it seemed to matter. And it mattered more with every swig you took. Your lover blithely wrapped an arm around your lower waist, an invitation to release most of your weight onto him. Your crown felt as though it had a weight tied to it, your head falling nearly supine on your sternum before lolling to its side and onto Arthur’s broad shoulder.

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” Arthur asked, planting a kiss on your temple. You smelled the familiar bitters of alcohol on his breath, and it was almost as comforting as the deep drawl of his voice. You hummed out a yes, every movement feeling slowed down. Your mouth felt glued shut by the sour film of alcohol, your mouth opening in a wet click as your dense saliva smacked against your tongue and palate. In a delayed response, you said, “Yeah, honey. I’m having a real good time.” Your words slurred together like smeared paint on a canvas; a feeble attempt at forming something coherent.

“Don’t you think you’ve had too much to drink?” He chastised playfully. You scrunched up your nose jokingly.

“It’s just one night. I don’t usually drink like this.”

“Yeah exactly, you don’t. I’m scared you won’t be able to handle yourself.” You waved your arm dismissively at his concerns. “I’ll be fine. I have the gang here to take care of me. And most importantly I have you.” You reassured him, stumbling forward and giving him a kiss.

“I was thinking of turning in for the night.” Arthur told you, wrapping both his arms around your waist and turning him to face you. You pouted your bottom lip, whining petulantly. “Awww, hon, come on. Keep celebrating.”

“No, no… I’m drunk enough. And I’ve had a long day. Plus, I ain’t going anywhere else but my room. Don’t you wanna come up with me?”

You shook your head profusely. “I’ll be fine down here. Like I said, I wanna keep celebrating. I also ain’t going nowhere.” You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. Arthur’s nerves in leaving you downstairs seemed to calm significantly when he looked around the campfire at all the welcoming faces, especially the women, who were more than likely going to keep an eye on eachother. He gave it a thought for a moment longer before nodding in acceptance.

“Alright. Just be careful. I’ll stay awake just in case.” Arthur’s lithe hands began to smooth down your back and over the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh in a nascent squeeze. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He smirked before leaning forward and kissing you once more, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You sloppily accepted the kiss, the exchange lasting only seconds before he bid you farewell by slapping your ass. You giggled in anticipation for what your lover was suggesting at once you got upstairs to him, your red face turning even redder. You watched Arthur’s back as he walked off towards the front entrance of the house, smiling warmly when you saw him say goodnight to John and Abigail, who were sitting together by the foyer.

Time seemed insubstantial the longer you celebrated, passing by in warped increments the more you drank. You had decided it was finally time to up and leave when the only way you evaded vomiting everywhere was from staring at the flickering embers of the fire. When you stood, the world spun around you, and you remained stationary as you tried to figure out which way you were supposed to walk to get to the house. Your body lagged behind your mind, each movement slowed and blundered in confusion as if your body was deliberately working against itself. Several of the women and men offered to walk you up towards your shared room with Arthur, but you refused, insisting in your mind that you wanted to walk into the room, alluringness turned on in your best attempt at seducing Arthur. The gracefulness of that action would be mere afterthought, not taking into consideration the possibility of you embarrassing yourself.

You lugged your body towards the double doors, feet stomping up the steps of the front porch. You caught sight of Abigail sitting alone in your peripheral, who was seemingly startled by the loudness of your steps.

“Hey, (Name). You okay? You seem real drunk.” She gave you a look of concern, making a movement to stand up from her seat. You waved off her concern dismissively as well.

“I’m fine Abigail. Just had too much to drink. I’m headed up to my room.” You reassured. You wiped your mouth with the back of your arm, cleaning off the frothing drool forming at the corners of your mouth. She gave you one last look of concern before planting herself on her seat again.

“Alright then, I suppose all you have to do is go upstairs anyways. Goodnight, (Name).”

“Goodnight.”

It was an arduous task to push open the expansive mahogany doors of the building, your footsteps echoing as you trudged across the floor and up the creaky, wooden steps. You leaned against the railing at the top of the stairs, threatening to retch but resulting in nothing but excess saliva. You bordered on sickness but that would not stop you in your pursuit of copulation with Arthur. Your vision tunneled, and you let your body take the lead ahead of your mind. It felt as though you were dragging your body along the floor to safety from some unknown threat you were too hammered to classify. You swallowed hard, finding amenity in the cool, metallic feeling of a door knob as you clumsily turned it, only to find the door was already ajar. You practically stumbled inside, trying your best not to trip on your own feet. You heaved your body up against the door frame, beginning in a series of sultry laughter.

Unbeknownst to you, you hadn’t actually crawled into the room of your lover. You hadn’t made it down the hall completely, instead stumbling into another room. You hadn’t even paid any mind to the soft snores that were scarcely audible from behind Arthur’s door.

“Heyyy, Arthur.” You cooed, followed by more giggles.

John sat up from where he lay in his bed, his eyes registering a sense of bewilderment for who was at his door. Only moments ago he had been deep in thought, contemplating what it was he wanted in life, and moments before that he had engaged in an argument with his wife downstairs before storming up on his own; and now, before him, stood the object of his desire.

“Are you surprised to see me so soon?” You said playfully.

John felt a strange duality to the question. How even though the question was meant for Arthur, he felt equally as entitled to answer it. John looked down at himself in near disbelief, as if he had somehow embodied Arthur and his own body was replaced. He asked himself if you were really that drunk, to mistake his frame and face for your lover.

“(Name)?” He said hesitantly, looking around the room as if he were expecting a group of the girls to jump out and announce a prank.

“Well you shouldn’t be that surprised, you saw how drunk I was.”

That seemed to confirm John’s suspicions. Obviously, you didn’t mean to walk in here. You were supposed to be down the hall, at Arthur’s door. His mind blanked when he saw you begin to saunter over towards him. He sucked in a breath and held it, straightening and stiffening his body as if he were preparing his body for some sort of grand, painful impact.

“Well, I’m here now. You said you’d be awake for me…” You giggled darkly, swaying your body. You settled down onto John’s lap, wrapping two arms around his neck and leaning forward to put your lips to his ear. You felt John’s rigidity as you sat on him, still under the belief that it was Arthur; so your confusion was palpable when he didn’t automatically wrap his arms around you.

“Relax, Arthur… Why are you so tense?” You ran your tongue along the shell of John’s ear before planting a kiss on his lobe, nipping it with your teeth before sucking on it slightly. The crescendo of John’s shame reached its peak when you cupped his crotch, delivering a squeeze before rubbing your palm back and forth on it, again and again. He bit his lip, clenching and unclenching his fists in an act of contemplation.

John put his hands on your shoulders, nudging you off and moving you to sit next to him on the bed. He moved your body effortlessly, your whole being pliable and docile as he settled you on the mattress. You furrowed your brows and pouted your lip in confusion, not used to this level of resistance from Arthur.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, the words slurring together sloppily. It only served as another reminder for how drunk you were to John. He continued to hold on your shoulders, his hands digging into the supple skin, grounding himself in the feeling of your bones. He studied your face: flushed red and sclera tinged pink from the excessive drinking you had done that night, your hair was wild and messy and all over the place, and there was a line of drool that had gone down the side of your cheek, beginning to dry. Part of him was tempted to stick his thumb in your mouth and run it over the dried spots to clean them off. Your eyes held a sort of puppy-eyed look of confusion and sadness, as if he had dangled a treat over your head and he promptly put it away in his pocket. Though in the same vein, your eyes were glazed over and unfocused, glassy the same way a person who was fighting off unconsciousness would look. He noticed the way your torso continued to sway uneasily despite him holding you up.

“I”m not…” John began, but he did not continue. His mouth hung open in anticipation of what he may say next, as if he were expecting some force to conjure up the words for him. But unlike you, he was in full control of what he might say, or what he might decide to do next. His mouth closed, his face hardening. He felt a strange concoction of emotions spread inside him, like a bottle of several intoxicating alcohols mixed together in one glass had just been knocked over accidentally. It made him feel cold and warm all at the same time, and at once, his body began in an unexplainable tremble. Whether it was made up of excitement, shame, or paranoia, John couldn’t place his finger on it. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Your patience wasn’t exactly part of the equation, partially preoccupied with clinging onto any semblance of comprehension skills you were left with; realistically, John could’ve spent hours sitting there thinking and you would’ve kept sitting there, waiting.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so anxious, darling. I was just scared someone might hear us.” John said. John felt that same sense of duality, that foreign feeling of embodying something or someone he wasn’t, taking their place when it wasn’t rightfully his to take. He buried any feelings of shame he might’ve felt from his conclusion, ignoring the morbid implications and possible grave impacts it would have on his relationships and life. He tied all those thoughts and feelings up like an ornately wrapped parcel and tossed it out the window; the possibility of those feelings being discovered once more was a question for a later time.

“No one’s gonna hear us, everyone’s outside celebrating.” You reassured, a smile returning to your face. John felt like an imposter in his own room, his own body. Like he walked into an intimate scene and surreptitiously took the place of Arthur while you weren’t looking. It was a moment of sick exultation for John. The knowledge that in his bed, he had something so near and dear to Arthur. Likewise, he also had something near and dear to him in his bed. His jealousy for Arthur’s relationship with you became a point of one sided contention in John’s head. It was something he’d never voice, not to anyone, and especially not to Arthur or you. But now that the opportunity presented itself to him, seemingly serving itself on a silver platter, he discovered a new variation of what it felt like to be in control.

For one night, he’d be able to forget the envy he felt in seeing Arthur kiss or hold you; to forget the way his chest panged whenever he watched the two of you run off upstairs or into the woods, hand in hand, giggling while he was left to imagine all the lascivious scenes between you two; to forget the crushing shame he felt after having touched himself to the thought of you, so unbearably roused by watching you run off to engage in those aforementioned carnal acts, imagining himself in Arthur’s place. And he’d be able to entomb the feeling of remorse he felt when he thought of pillaging you while Abigail lay beneath him, who was left to wonder where all the passion he was exerting was coming from; oblivious to the fact that he was pretending she was you.

“Yeah… You’re right…” John whispered, swallowing hard. He managed a shaky smile, letting his hands slide down your shoulders and rubbing soothing circles; with the amount of rubbing he did, it appeared as though he were doing it to calm himself down.

“Now c’mon! Before someone does walk into the house!” Your playful remark nearly cemented a feeling of paranoia inside John, egging him on to act fast; lest he be forced to come up with some shoddy excuse as to why you were half naked in his bed.

He looked at your hands as they made quick work of your button up shirt, part of him wanting to help but the other part of him remaining persistent in the thought that it wasn’t his place to. To calm his own nerves, he began fiddling with the buckle of his belt, halfway between undoing it and keeping it in place. You were hardly in the right state of mind to be paying his dallying movements any thought, tasked with the complicated act of undoing the final buttons of your shirt which was made harder tenfold by your clumsiness.

“C’mon, help me out, Arthur!” You urged. John looked behind his shoulder to check for anyone, then around the room as if that aforementioned prank was still on the table. He reminded himself of the time crunch he was under, and skillfully undid your buttons before hastily sliding off your shirt.

John’s own refusal to shed his clothing was rooted in the feeling of vulnerability. Despite the fact he planned to have you barren before him, he did not want to risk being caught naked with you. The feeling of exposure would cause him to imagine all the painfully cringeworthy scenarios where someone would walk up the stairs and see his naked body above yours through the gaping hole in his wall. It allowed him some sense of security in knowing he would only have to scramble to dress you and not himself.

With John’s assistance, you shimmied out of your skirt, the fabric pooling on the floor close to the bed. Only your heavy breaths and the rustling of your clothing was heard, and before long, you crossed your arms over your front and tugged the chemise over your torso and head. John was taken aback by your quickness to shed the garment, but remembered this must’ve been a routine act between you and Arthur; the thought left a sour feeling of jealousy in him. Though that jealousy was sweeped under the bed when he saw your breasts bounce before him hypnotically with each movement. You ran your hands up your sides before stopping to cup your breasts, teasing your own nipples to put on a show for John.

John felt his cock jump in his pants, instinctively licking his lips at the sight. In the first forward act of the night, he confidently moved himself to sit closer before and squeezed your breasts, toying with the flesh with such fascination it was as if he was studying them to keep a permanent mental picture of them. His touches felt like he was trying to memorize what they felt like for the future with the knowledge that he may never get the opportunity to touch them again. He slapped your breasts slightly and reveled in the way the skin rippled with movement, before pushing them together and leaning his head down. He ran his tongue between the valley of your breasts, snaking his tongue between your cleavage and enjoying the sweaty warmth of your skin pressed up against itself.

The sound of your breathy gasp as your body reacted in a full body shudder was the perfect kick in the center of John’s loins—here he was, with you in his bed and perfectly in control. You watched as the pink of John’s tongue flickered out to lick at your nipple before enveloping it fully between his lips. The scratchy roughness of his stubble made you giggle, only furthering your belief that this was Arthur. John lapped at your nipple and teased it with his incisors in an effort to get more whiny moans out of you, each sound a reminder that he was the one doing this to you and not Arthur.

John traced open-mouthed kisses down your torso, every kiss that got closer to the down tuft of hair hidden away under your drawers exciting him the same way a kid would be excited from opening a gift in secret the night before christmas. Your body tipped back slowly, as if someone had nudged an unstable tower of building blocks, and crashed into the mattress, your head landing on John’s pillow. Your hands rested limply on your sides, but your sudden fall did not distract John from hooking his fingers into the cotton hem of your drawers, before pulling them down feverishly.

A bush of hair concealed the squishy skin of your pelvis; the hair littered around your inner thighs and continued inward to your pubis. John wasted no time in nudging your legs apart, revealing the swollen wet rose that was your pussy. He raked two thumbs through the hair on either side, spreading your lips and further displaying your wetness to him. The sight of the shiny, soaked flesh made John’s cock throb, and he began grinding his hips into the mattress as he settled his body between your legs. He bathed your pussy in his warm breath before spitting on it, using his tongue to spread the glob of saliva. He moaned loudly as the taste of your cunt, releasing your lips from the hold of his tongue and allowing it to close around his tongue, effectively sandwiching it. He shuddered in ecstasy at the feeling alone, before he quickly got to work and lapped at you like a dog. You let out the occasional soft moan, going through bouts of silence before starting up again in small sounds. John sucked and ate you out with unmatched ferocity, unleashing years of desire of wistfulness with his tongue and mouth. You feebly bent your knee and lifted it, allowing John better access. But he quickly assisted you, hooking his hand below your knee and pushing your thigh to your chest.

Your moans grew in volume as he sucked your clit skillfully, the small bud throbbing wildly in pleasure as he treated it like some sort of hard candy. The sloppy wet sounds of the act alone were enough to cause a full body blush, and you squirmed your heavy limbs as he continued. John abruptly shoved two fingers inside you, his movements irregular and drawn out, poking and prodding your insides as he ran his fingers along your gummy walls. His fingering was less like fingering and more like being examined by a doctor, like he was trying to memorize how your insides felt with his fingers alone. He retracted his fingers slowly, groaning at the sight of them slowly emerging from your wet hole.

John stood from where he laid and stood next to the bed, peeking outside the hole in his wall before looking back at your body. You appeared spent despite the minimal actions of that night. Your limbs were splayed around the bed, your head resting limply to the left as you faced him. Despite your spinning head, the still moment allowed you to squint your eyes at John. Has Arthur’s hair always been this dark? Or was it a trick of the lighting? Was it the lighting that also made him appear less bulky? These were all questions you asked yourself as you laid there. The stationary moment of silence between you two as John stood over your naked body forced him to butt heads with his worst fear in the moment; a prospect so alarming he had refused to acknowledge it earlier; the possibility that you might recognize him.

In an attempt to push that thought out of your heads, he began unbuckling his belt. The throbbing of his cock was nearly painful as he pulled it out from in between his zipper. John raked his fingers through your hair gently, gripping your roots softly and pushing your head towards the edge of the bed. He got some sort of comfort out of the idea that by shoving his cock in your mouth, it would temporarily disallow you to voice any queries of his identity. He prodded his tip against your lips, watching the pink on pink contact as you opened your mouth and allowed him to slide inside. He slid in slowly, throwing his head back at the feeling of your warm wet mouth hugging his cock. He kept going until his cock clicked past your tonsils and his balls met your chin. You kept your eyes trained on his naval, feeling that by not looking up you might be able to suppress your rising sense of panic.

You continued your ministrations like you usually would, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you tried your best to move your head in the position you were in. You fluttered your tongue on his underside, laying it flat against his head and teasing his frenulum with the tip of your tongue. John began thrusting into your throat, shoving a thumb in through the corner of your mouth to allow his cock more space to move. You made an effort to squeeze your thumbs and curl your toes, having to alternate your focus between pleasuring him and not vomiting all over his cock. You used your excess salivation as lube, the in and out motion of his cock becoming effortlessly easy with the smooth wetness.

John let out a string of curses as you sucked him off, able to tell that this was a skill born out of practice. Though he couldn’t even be angry at the thought of you gaining this much skill from sucking Arthur off, especially when he got to enjoy it.

John slid his cock out your mouth slowly, looking back down at your face to see if you had any resolve. Your eyes were fluttering open and closed, copious amounts of saliva running down the side of your mouth and pooling on his bed. You looked as though you were barely clinging onto consciousness. A fresh sense of guilt that John had previously been harboring came crashing through as he kneeled before you on the bed. He cupped your face and held it up, watching your glassy eyes as you tried to blink yourself awake.

“C’mon…” You croaked. “Just do it already.”

John swallowed hard at the words. The ambiguity of them left him feeling an uncomfortable sense of dread. Your eyes did not focus on his face, instead looking past him; you weren’t all there. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your lips to his, kissing you feverishly as you struggled to keep up. There was hesitance in your kiss, but you did so nonetheless. You had to admit, your mouths fit perfectly against one another, and despite the unfamiliar feeling of his lips as you tried to decipher whether or not this was Arthur, the one thing keeping you on the Arthur side of the fence was that the kiss felt so correct. You opened your mouth more, allowing John to shove his tongue inside your mouth and to memorize your mouth through that method as well. As much as John wanted to, he resisted biting your lip in the possibility that he might bust it and call forth questions from Arthur at a later time.

John settled your head back onto the pillow before turning his sights down between your legs. His cock, still glistening with your saliva, bobbed with each movement mere inches from your pussy. He gripped the back of your knees again and pushed them to your chest, watching the way your core spread like a splitting heart. He released one knee and used that same hand to grip the base of his cock before guiding it to your molting hole. John barely noticed the way your body went limp as he slid inside, too entranced with the tight feeling of your pussy to realize you were bereft of any and all resistance. His eyes remained shut as he began to thrust, trying his best not to move too hard or fast to avoid the loud slapping of skin.

His thrusts were careful and calculated, and his eyes trained on the movement of your body as he fucked you. You would occasionally come alive with a moan or twitch of your limb before dozing off again, but John was far too deep in his own world of pleasure. In your bouts of consciousness, you tried your best to pick your head up and look at John’s face, trying to make his face out in the darkness. Was this even your bed?

Though the realization couldn’t have been any more in your face, as when he brought his sweaty forehead to yours, his heavy labored breaths sounding like he was running from something, you realized your mistake. The recognition was almost sobering, as your eyes flickered around the room wildly without him noticing. You looked back at John’s face, your panic reaching its boiling point when you saw the striking scars across his face.

A particularly hard thrust caused you to moan, A gasp that turned into a whiny wail. “John…!”

There was a cold fear that spread through John’s shoulders, his thrusts slowing but never stopping. John questioned whether or not he had heard you correctly, too afraid to stop and ask you what you had said in fear that if you hadn’t already realized, you would then. Your clammy hands came up to grip his biceps, squeezing softly before nodding. John wasn’t sure what the nod meant, but he convinced himself it was a green light to keep going. He was roused to thrust harder, watching the way your breasts bounced hypnotically.

It was your turn to feel a sense of shame and remorse, thinking to yourself how you could yell at John to stop but opting not to. You held onto a sense of curiosity as John fucked you, not helping the way you compared him and Arthur. John’s touches had been so hesitant initially, but grew in passion. And his skill was undeniable. Your proximity to both men allowed for a comparison between their bodies and highlighted miniscule physical differences that you might’ve not noticed or savored otherwise; the light smattering of freckles on Arthur’s nose and the nearly imperceptible scar on John’s forehead, Arthur’s deep collar bones and the fatty ripeness of John’s detached earlobes.

Your box felt gaping and tender as John continued, wholly aware that you would not cum but enjoying any pleasure you felt nonetheless. Eventually, John pulled his cock out of you, and it was followed by the small slapping sound of hand on skin, the act of John squeezing out the rest of his desires for the night. You watched the way his cock shone in the moonlight as he fisted it, eventually spurting out copious ropes of cum on your belly and naval. His only form of marking you without leaving semi permanent evidence. You continued to lay there, watching John catch his breath in a full body heave. You made no movements to get dressed or even leave, being in no rush yourself.

The only sounds in the room was John’s breath evening out, eventually calming down enough to breath through his nose. Your eyes followed his every movement, and he eventually settled into a sitting position next to you as he tucked himself back inside.

You knew in the sidelong glances of John’s eyes that things would not be the same. He could not pretend that he didn’t know better.

Your last thought was that Shady Belle had never looked so dark.

Taking What’s Not Yours - TV Girl

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #writing #red dead fanfiction #van der linde gang x reader #john marston x reader smut #john marston one shot #john marston rdr2 #john marston x reader #john marston smut #john marston #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader

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davidlcki · 1 year

Text

payment

pairing:low honor! arthur x reader

warnings: cursing, arthur is mean, being forced to drink, age gap, game typical violence. i think that’s it

summary: your parents take a loan from strauss, and when they can’t afford it, they send you off as payment instead. it’s a 3 day journey back to the van der linde camp. will you turn the notorious gunslinger soft?

an: please let me know how you guys feel about this one! i’ve been dealing with severe writers block so this took me MONTHS to write. it might not be my best, but i’m just happy to get something out. enjoy, i love you all! ❤️

words: 5,562 (my longest yet i think)

part 2

shouting from downstairs violently ripped you from your deep sleep, and quickly, you hopped out of bed. your hands shook as you slowly opened your door and made your way to the top of the steps.

“the money. NOW.”

you flinched at the harshness of the man’s words. instantly you knew it was the debt collectors, and that your family had nowhere near the amount needed to pay it off. you listened to your mother and father plead with the man for another week, but he wasn’t having it. at the sound of a gun cocking, your legs began to move on their own. you were bolting down the stairs.

“STOP! please, please don’t hurt them!” you hold your hands out desperately, standing between the man and your parents, who were dead silent. the man paused, the anger in his features seemed to be replaced with amusement. this was the moment that you recognized who this man was. you had seen him in many bounty posters around strawberry, he was arthur morgan.

“well now, why didn’t ya tell me about this fine young lady?” arthur’s gaze drifted from you to your parents, who were looking at each other with a look you couldn’t read. nervously, you looked between your parents and arthur. why weren’t they saying anything?

“she’ll do as payment just fine” arthur shrugs, holstering his gun and giving an easy smile, as if this was no big deal, just another day. you turned to your parents quickly, shaking your head and backing away from arthur.

“please don’t…” you looked between your mother and father desperately. finally, your father speaks.

“take her. if it works as payment, take her.” time seemed to slow as you stared at your father who wouldn’t look you in the eyes. your mother was looking down, you could tell she was holding back tears, but she stayed silent.

“what? wait, wait just-” you glanced at the door quickly, thinking of ways to escape. arthur, was quick to place his hand on his holstered gun.

“i wouldn’t, if i were you.” arthur’s voice was suddenly much lower, and his easy smile was gone in an instant. you knew there was no other way. you turned to your parents, lips in a flat line as you stared at them. you were thinking of what you could possibly say to them, when arthur’s rough hand had a grip on your upper arm.

“your own daughter…for some fucking cash…” your voice was shaky as you were being pulled towards the door. barely having time to slip your boots on, you give your parents one last look before you were out of sight.

for a while, it was silent. you were too in shock to cry or do much of anything, but think.

“we’ll camp here for the night” arthur’s voice startled you out of your thoughts, most of them being how to escape this situation. for now, he had at least some form of trust in you, considering your hands were untied.

arthur morgan was more of a myth than a person, to you. you heard the stories of the hundreds he’s killed and you knew this was probably a bad idea, but you needed to try an escape. once he hopped off his horse, you grabbed onto the reigns and kicked your heels into its sides, but it didn’t budge. the damned horse stayed dead still. the air seemed to thicken as you continued to attempt to get the horse to take off with a series of ‘hyah’s’ and ‘go’s’, but his horse was loyal, seeming to listen to him and only him. when you looked over, you swore you saw flames in arthur’s eyes.

plan b.

from the horse, you deliver a kick into arthur’s chest with all the power you could muster. just as his horse, he dosent budge. arthur lunges forwards, pulling you off the horse roughly and ignoring the protests coming from you as he threw you over his shoulder. you pounded relentlessly on his back, but he didn’t so much as flinch. instead, he tightened his grip on you, nearly squandering your ability to breathe. once finding a clearing about 30 feet into the woods, he throws you onto the grass and pulls out his lasso. you take a few seconds to catch your breath, but you don’t have time to move or get any words out. effortlessly, arthur ties the rope around your wrists and ankles before you could flip over, rendering you immobile.

“bastard! you let me go!” you finally manage to turn yourself onto your back and struggle against the rope that dug into your skin. arthur, clearly unamused at your shouting, sinks down to your level on the ground. his hips were nearly straddling yours as he kneeled and grabbed your face with a rough hand.

“watch it girl.” his voice was drawn out and easy, giving you the impression that he’s done this many times before. he releases his grip on your jaw, and brushes a strand of hair from your forehead. “don’t forget i know where you live. dont try nothin’, less you’re fixin’ to watch your parents die”.

“i don’t…. i don’t care about them anymore. they sold me. pawned me like trash.” your voice was shaky as you spoke up at him, and for a while the both of you sat and stared at each other, heavy breath fanning over your faces. arthur almost had a look of understanding for a moment. it was true. you were angry at them for so carelessly giving you away for their own benefit. in fact, you didn’t know who you were angrier at. arthur, or your own parents. finally, arthur hums and stands. you didn’t dare move from your spot on the ground, instead, you silently watched arthur set up camp. you really were afraid that he’d kill you if you so much as moved. you could see in his eyes that he was only going to let that trick you tried slide once.

you shivered and let out a ragged exhale, still catching your breath as the wind was knocked out of you not long ago. you were desperate for fire, for any kind of warmth. you were only in boots and a thin nightgown, that did much of nothing as the cold from the ground seeped into you.

“cold?” arthur stands next to your shivering frame on the ground. you say nothing, instead giving him an unamused glare. you refused to let him see you cry, so you threw on your best angry facade. you stiffened as he leaned down and lifted you, not letting out a breath of air until you were put down again. now, you were resting against a tree in front of the fire. you let out an inner sigh of relief at the warmth. arthur sits across from the fire, taking a bite of jerky from his satchel.

“so, that’s your parents farm huh? pretty nice, all considering.” arthur pauses, but you say nothing. “live there your whole life?” you didn’t even really hear his question as you asked your own.

“where are you takin’ me?” you watch arthur’s face carefully as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“you’re joining the gang” arthur flicks the end of his cigarette, the ashes slowly float to the ground. “we need more hands. more people to help fight.”

“i’m no good at fighting” your voice was quiet, you were starting to realize you weren’t getting out of this.

“you will be. now,” arthur stands up and pulls more rope from his horses satchel “rest up, got a long day of riding tomorrow” you scoff as he begins to wrap the rope around you and the tree you were against.

“is this necessary?” arthur says nothing, instead pulling the rope tighter. after, he goes back to his spot, pulling his hat over his face and letting out a rather large sigh. for a long time, you didn’t sleep. instead, you relentlessly tugged and pulled at the rope restraining you. you knew it was pointless, but you couldn’t help trying. your face twisted in pain as your arms scratched against the rough tree bark. arthur must have been very confident in the knots he tied, because you very quickly heard soft snores drifting from across the fire. after what seemed like hours, and a few shed tears, you fell into a restless sleep.

•••

when you awoke the next morning, arthur was up, packing supplies into his horses satchel and humming to himself softly. you stayed silent, observing the man who was so mean to you do a task so mundane. when you looked down, you noticed arthur’s brown coat was thrown over your frame. it smelled like tobacco and gunpowder. when arthur noticed you were up, he quickly took his jacket back and went over to untie the rope holding you to the tree.

“morning sunshine” he throws you a smile as he pulls the rope from around the tree off, along with the rope on your ankles.

“i trust you won’t run”

“no” your voice was hoarse and you shivered violently as the wind attacked your bare skin that was previously covered. arthur stopped, thinking for a second as he took in your frame with a slow look from your head to your ankles and back up again. he pulls you to your feet, letting you catch your footing on wobbly legs as he rummaged around for his canteen. he flicks the cap off and grabs your jaw so roughly and suddenly that you let out an involuntary gasp of shock. he turns your face towards him and inspects you for a second before continuing. you could only wonder what he was thinking, his lip twitching ever so slightly into the ghost of a smile as he continued.

“drink” he puts the canteen to your mouth and watches as you desperately gulped down the water. after about 5 seconds, he pulled it away, taking a swig of the liquid himself before stowing it back on his horse.

“long ride ahead,” arthur lifts you onto his horse before hopping in front of you in the saddle, “gonna take a few days i reckon, so get comfortable”.

arthur wasn’t lying. you rode all day, so long that you couldn’t remember what direction you came from or how to get back home. although that outcome was unlikely now. desperate to escape the cold, you pressed yourself against arthur’s back. you felt him stiffen at the contact, but were too cold to care. you couldn’t count the hours it’d been, and for a while you were pretty sure you fell asleep. throughout the day, you only made a few stops. one for bathroom breaks, and one for his horse to rest. the rest of the day was a blur, not much was said, and the only noise you heard was the trotting of hoofs on the ground and the rustle of trees in the wind. when the sun began to set, arthur finally pulled to a stop.

“seems like a good spot” arthur observes the clearing, giving you a stern look before hopping off of his horse, remembering the stunt you pulled last time.

“gonna tie me to a tree again?” your voice was dripping in sarcasm as you allowed him to pull you off the horse.

“you gonna make me?” arthur’s tone matched yours as he pulled out his bedroll and some other supplies. you waited for the extra rope to come, but it never did. arthur instead unties your hands, then reties them in front of you. you audibly sigh at the discomfort that began to dissipate, and you rolled your shoulders a few times in satisfaction.

“y’ dont wanna run off in these parts,” arthur warns as the fire lights up the clearing. “the people will get to ya before the animals do.” you said nothing in response. for a few hours, you stayed dead silent. ignoring arthur’s snarky comments and nothing more than blinking when he’d toss the end of a cigarette or a twig off the ground at you. arthur began to heat a small can of stew, smiling teasingly as he watches you eye it. he pulls gin out of his pocket, downing a hefty swig.

“if you want some, you gotta speak, girl.” arthur eats a large scoop of stew, groaning dramatically in satisfaction in an attempt to tease you.

“fuck you. that enough?” arthur snorts a laugh at your response, deciding to give you a bite. you quickly chew and swallow it, savoring the taste.

“what’s your name anyway?” arthur pauses, scooping out some more stew and holding it up. “you answer me if you wanna eat.”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N” arthur feeds you the stew and downs more gin. halfway through the bottle now.

“Y/N” the way your name rolled off his tongue sent a chill down your spine. “you gotta pretty name, Y/N. how old are ya?”

you eye the man for a while, before looking back down to the tempting spoon of stew. “i’m 22. now can you feed me the god damn food?” you were getting testy now, watching arthur eat and down almost an entire bottle of gin while you’ve had nothing for over a day will do that to you.

“you got a mouth on ya!” arthur let’s out a laugh, feeding you another bite and finishing the rest of the stew himself. he stands up, stretching his legs and yawning, before walking over to you casually. nervously, you watch as arthur squats down to be eye level with you.

“sleep” a small smile crosses his face, confusing you. then, he places a hand on your shoulder and shoves you to the side so you’re in a laying position in the grass. a yelp escapes your lips as you hit the ground. “night”

you watch in disbelief as arthur goes to his spot on the bed roll, very quickly falling asleep with his hat on his face as usual. now was your turn. you thought about running, but had a feeling that arthur wasn’t lying about the people around these parts. slowly, you drifted to sleep in the damp grass.

•••

you woke up to the sound of footsteps crunching in the dead leaves. instantly you were alert. when you looked over, arthur was still passed out. you guessed the gin running through his veins was doing its work. you stayed silent, sitting up slowly and looking into the dark of the forrest around you. the fire was almost out at this point. you tugged anxiously at the ropes binding your hands. there were the footsteps again, from behind you this time. you knew those weren’t from an animal. before you could react, a man came running out of the woods. he was on you in seconds, knife in hand. you let out a scream of terror as you were slammed onto your back. you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the knife to be plunged into your chest, but it never came. instead, there was a gunshot that seemed to shake the forest. when you opened your eyes, there was a bullet hole between the eyes of the man as he crumpled on top of you. the weight of him smothered the cry that you tried to let out. arthur was over in seconds, shoving the body off of you and pulling you to a sitting position. there was genuine worry that you saw for a mere second in his face.

“y’ alright?” he was still blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked you over for stab wounds. he was half awake, trying to make sense of what was going on. as you opened your mouth to speak, another man emerged from the dark of the woods. he shoved arthur over, effectively knocking the gun from his hands. you were in a trance, looking between arthur, the man, and the pistol laying right in front of you. arthur’s voice startled you out of it. his voice was strained as he called your name out, he was using all his strength to hold the knife mere inches away from his chest. with your tied hands, you picked up the pistol. it was heavier than you expected.

“do… it…” his eyes pleaded with you, meanwhile, the tip of the knife was beginning to sink into his chest. without anymore hesitation, you aimed at the attackers head and pulled the trigger. your ears rung more than the first gunshot that was fired earlier, and you noticed the almost painful vibrations that flowed through your hands. arthur let’s out a sigh of relief, pushing the body off of him and sitting up, before quickly freezing again. he stared at you blankly as you continued to point the pistol at him.

“Y/N…” he holds his hands up and shakes his head. “y’ don’t wanna do this”

you looked at him for a long while, tears were dripping down your cheeks and your hands were shaking violently. you were debating killing him right here and now. but how would you make it in there woods? how would you find your way back? then, you remembered why you were here in the first place, and how your parents threw you out without a thought. finally, slowly, you lowered the gun, arthur took this oppertunity to snatch it from your hands, before audibly exhaling. he watched carefully as you broke down in tears, hugging onto yourself the best you could with tied hands and trying to wipe blood off of your nightgown.

“hey… i uh…” arthur didnt know what to say as he placed a hand upon your shoulder in attempted reassurance. to his surprise, you threw yourself into his embrace. slowly, he wrapped his arms around your frame and listened to you cry. he noticed the red marks on your wrists under the rope, and was shocked at the pang of guilt he felt. without thinking, he takes out his hunting knife and cuts the rope off of you. you use this time to wrap your arms around his waist. arthur slowly runs a hand up and down your back as you continued to sob.

“i’m scared, arthur.” was all you could get out. you had never killed a man before, and the reality was setting in. all arthur could do was mutter an awkward series of ‘it’s alright’ and ‘i’m here’s’ until you calmed down enough to let go. arthur was almost sad at the loss of your presence, and he wished he could rip this part of him out. this part that yearned for love and affection and what he was just finding out, you. half of him screamed as he draped his coat around your shoulders, while the other half cheered.

you avoided eye contact with the gunslinger as you attempted to get your tears under control, pulling his coat around yourself gingerly.

“thank you… for not letting me be killed” you kept your eyes on the fire, too afraid to look at arthur or the bodies or the blood on your skin.

“and thank you, for not shootin’ me along with this feller” you let out a scoff, lips twitching up into a small smile you mustered up. arthur took the time to move the bodies away from camp and your sight, eventually returning and sitting down again. there was a new feeling in the air between you and the gunslinger. a bond forged in blood and death. arthur never tied your hands again, and he kept watch the rest of the night. though neither of you got another wink of sleep, you stayed close to each other, shoulders touching as you sat side by side. you asked arthur plenty of questions about his gang. you were genuinely curious what it was like. you could tell he was fond of them by the way his features softened at just the thought. you realized, they were family, and it didn’t sound so bad. after hours of trying to will the sun to come up faster, it finally rose, and you were more than glad to keep moving.

you couldn’t tell how long it’d been now. you slept for a while the way you have been, your face pressed against arthur’s back in a somewhat comfortable position, but when you opened your eyes again you were in a town. upon reading the sign, you realized it was valentine. you could hear the chatter in the distance, and your eyes lit up with surprise. it had been days since you’d seen another person besides arthur. arthur must have felt you sit up straighter, because he quickly stopped his horse and looked back at you.

“i trust you’re not gonna try no shit?” he asks, exhaling cigarette smoke from his lungs. you hold back the urge to cough as the smoke wafts over your face. he observes you for a second more before straightening your messy hair. you knew it was so you looked more presentable to the town, but it was oddly gentle, intimate.

“no, but people are going to ask questions, arthur.” you spit his name out, and reference down to your now dirty and tattered nightgown. you were upset at the shift between you both after what you went through the night before, and it was hard for you to contain your anger as you spoke. the lack of food and clean clothes was starting to get to you. arthur stares at you for a while, before sighing heavily. though he still gave you attitude, you were surprised with the patience he was beginning to keep with you.

“okay… here” after a second of thinking, he pulled his coat off and placed it around your shoulders once again. casually, the two of you trotted into town, slowing to a stop at the hotel. you ignored the stares the townsfolk gave you as you walked inside. being in a tattered gown and a jacket two big was definitely turning heads.

“one bath for the lady please” arthur tosses the owner a coin and nudges you towards the bath house. once in front of the door, he grabs your wrist and turns you towards him.

“you clean up, i’ll be right back. dont get no ideas of runnin’ off now, because i will find you.” his voice was low as he looked down at you, though you were starting to notice the facade he was putting up. the way he gently held your wrist told you all you needed to know, and unbeknownst to him, you weren’t really planning on leaving. the last place you wanted to go, was back home.

“wouldnt dream of it” your voice was dripping with sarcasm as you pulled your wrist from his grip and pushed your way into the bath house.

once you finished cleaning up, you pulled the towel around yourself and waited awkwardly, leaning from foot to foot as you waited for arthur to come back. the last thing you wanted was to put your old clothes on, so you stood by the fire and slowly dried off. finally, arthur pushed his way into the bath house holding a bag. he froze for a second as he took in your frame, only covered by the small towel. once you started walking towards him, he looked anywhere but at you as he handed you the bag. you say nothing, pulling the clothes out and dropping your towel as you began to pull them on. it was a simple brown dress with yellow detailing on the sleeves, collar, and bottom. you could tell arthur had picked it out, considering how it matched to his own clothes. there was also a new night gown in the bag, and you smiled to yourself.

“could you?” you turn away from the man who was doing most anything but look at you. when he shifted his gaze to you again, your back was turned to him, revealing an unlaced corset.

“yeah… yeah sure” arthur’s hands gingerly fiddled with the string, trying his best to will away the reddening of his cheeks as he observed your exposed back. it had been forever since he had been with another woman, and he cursed the feelings arising in him for you. you turned towards him afterwards, unable to help the smile of relief from being in clean clothes.

“you… you look nice” arthur looks down at your dress, then quickly he turns and pulls you out of the bathhouse with him before you can utter a ‘thank you’.

“you hungry?” arthur wasn’t really asking as the two of you headed towards the saloon, though you almost cried tears of joy at the thought of food. with a glance to the clock on the wall, you realized it was already 6PM. the scent of food that floated through the saloon nearly made you drool. eagerly, you sat at the bar and waited for your steak and potatoes that arthur ordered to arrive.

“2 whiskeys please” arthur tosses a few coins at the bartender who nods in compliance.

“oh i… i don’t drink” arthur looks at you straight faced, sliding the shot glass to you.

“drink” his eyes stayed trained on you all the way until the shots were taken, the burning liquid slides down your throat roughly. arthur let out a hardy laugh as you coughed, instantly digging into your food as it arrived to get rid of the taste.

“another” arthur tosses more coins, not batting an eye when you protest.

“i’m not drinking anymore, arthur!” you glare in his direction angrily. arthur pauses for a while, before leaning in close and bringing the shot to your lips.

“drink the damn whiskey girl.” his voice was low and gravelly as he parted your lips with his thumb, before tilting the shot glass forward. nervously, you swallowed it. this moment reminded you that you were still technically being kidnapped by him, and that he wasn’t messing around. arthur smiles a little, taking his own shot.

“good girl.” you silently turn back to your food, eating slowly and trying to keep track of the amount of shots he was taking. eventually it became too many to count. luckily, he didn’t make you take anymore, too preoccupied with himself.

“arthur that’s enough, let’s go” it had been an hour now, and arthur was shitfaced. the wooziness you had began to feel went away quickly as you scarfed down your food. “you’re drunk”

“am not” arthur smiled lazily, attempting to order another drink, but you snatch the coins from his hand and tell the bartender we’re done. arthur gets up angrily, towering over your frame that was still sat on the stool. he opens his mouth to speak, but instead bumps shoulders with another man who was walking past.

“you bastard! watch it” arthur shoves the man back, sending him tumbling into another man behind him. shit.

in a flash, it was an all out fight between, well, you couldn’t count how many men. you stumbled back, trying to look for arthur in the crowd of men. finally, you spotted him falling to the ground and out of sight again. you debated for a while. do you wanna keep saving this fool? you bounced from foot to foot anxiously, cursing under your breath before bracing yourself and shoving your way through the fighting men. you dodged punches left and right, some of them had to have hit you, but your adrenaline blocked out the pain. finally, you spotted arthur on the ground unconscious.

“son of a bitch!” your voice was drowned out by the shouting, but you finally managed to hook your arms under arthur’s and drag him from the fighting, all the way outside, to the hotel across the street.

“one room please” you spoke to the clerk between heavy breaths, fishing into arthur’s pockets and pulling out the last coins he had for the room. you realized how bad this looked, so you tried to explain yourself. “i- i know him, i swear.” the clerk just nods wearily, recognizing the two of you from earlier and handing you the key. with help of the clerk, you got arthur into the bed.

the next hour or so you spent wiping arthur’s face down with any cloth and water you could find. he looked bad, face bruised and bloody, clothes ripped, you couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful even in this state. finally, you turned to the mirror to tend to your own wounds, which happened to only be a few bruises on your arms and ribs. you sigh in frustration at the new rip on the side of your dress. you almost didn’t notice as arthur began to wake.

“oh… what… happened?” arthur’s voice was slurred as he sat up slowly, wincing in pain and blinking hard.

“you almost fucking died, that’s what!” your voice was nearly bubbling over with anger as you stormed from the mirror over to him. “and so did i, pulling you out from all those men. you’re lucky i haven’t ran off or killed ya! you’re a fool, arthur. a damned fool.” you were tired of holding back your anger, you were pushed to your limit with him. arthur was looking at the bruises on your arms and your waist through your ripped dress, then up at you with the most puppy dog eyed look you’d seen on him.

“m’ sorry.” arthur’s voice was quiet as he spoke and you watched as a drop of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. “really, you can go. after the hell i dragged you through…” arthur scoffs a laugh and looks to the side. when you don’t speak, or leave, he looks back at you with confusion.

“i’m not gonna leave.” you paused for a while, trying to decide if this was the right decision. “i wanna join the gang.” arthur’s eyes widen at your words, but he nods slowly in response.

“i knew you’d come around” he smiles what you assumed was a genuine one. he then begins to stand, nearly toppling over on you before you grab onto him, steadying him.

“jesus, take it easy!” you push him back down into a sitting position on the bed and lean closer to his face. “i hope you have some doctors in your gang. you’re going to need stitches” you wipe at the blood on corner of his mouth with your thumb and sigh as you observe his wounds once more. when you went to pull away, arthur grabbed your wrist gently. your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes nervously. you didn’t know what he was thinking. his face was unreadable. was he angry? you couldn’t tell. you opened your mouth to speak. you were going to utter your best form of apology for your assumed anger on his part, but arthur silenced you by leaning forwards and pressing his lips against yours. you let out a smothered gasp against his lips, taking a stumbling step back and tilting your head up as arthur stands again. a quiet moan of pain escapes his lips as he leans some of his weight against you. after a few moments of silence, that felt to you like minutes, you pull away, turning your head from him in uncertainty. you didn’t know what you wanted. if this was right. he was dangerous, you knew that, but something about him drew you in dangerously.

“i… i just” you tried to find the words, anything to say to him, but your feelings were like a big tangled ball of string and you couldn’t figure it out.

“i’m sorry.” arthur cuts you off, letting out a cough of pain as he backs off, limping his way to the other side of the room.

“let’s rest. we can talk about things tomorrow.” you watched in disbelief as he laid himself down on the floor by the entrance of the room, pulling his hat over his eyes and breathing deep. you could taste his blood on your lips. you took this time to change into your new night gown and toss your dress to the side. you assumed it would be trash, being unable to sew or afford a tailor.

upon crawling into bed, you fell asleep almost instantly. you missed the feeling of a bed after sleeping on the ground for days. you slept through the entire night, ignoring the throb of your bruises and the commotion of the streets of valentine. when you awoke in the morning, the first thing you noticed was that arthur was gone. the second thing you noticed, was your dress, folded neatly at the end of your bed. slowly, you crawled over and unfolded it, noticing the rip had been carefully sewn shut. with it, there was a piece of paper.

“i’m sorry for what i put you through. you deserve a choice. if you want to run with us, i won’t stop you. if you want to go back to your family, you have my word you won’t see me again.

-A”

upon flipping the note, there was the location of the gangs camp. you knew what you were going to do.

part 2

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arthursfuckinghat · 2 months

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Valentine Saloon - The Heartlands

#dude why is drinking in valentine so depressing #there's always one guy who stands behind you and just gossips #then another guy next to you who doesn't talk and gives you weird looks #then the bartender keeps bringing up the fight with tommy #bro cant my guy drink in peace please #how many shots of whisky does it take to get arthur drunk because apparently seven shots and two beers isn't enough #poor guy #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #mick squeaks #arthur morgan #liveblogging

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mentally-a-slut · 1 day

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Staring Problem (Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader)

Rating: M (a little spicy, nothing too bad)

Summary: An innocent staring problem evolves into something out of your most romantic fantasies.

Note: Okay, so I just whipped this up to show y'all what my writing would look like, it's really last minute and unedited so don't expect too much, but I hope you like it! It's a little messy because I just kinda started writing with no real idea, but please leave feedback! Also, if enough people want it, I am open to doing a smutty part two :) enjoy!

You hadn't thought you were being obvious with your staring, but were very quickly proved wrong when Mary-Beth slid up next to you, giggling. "Enjoyin' the show?"

You spluttered and blushed at the young woman's implication, lightly shoving her. "I'm not staring!"

She giggled again and gave you a look. "I don't blame you, I do it all the time. Nothing better to do than watch the men chop wood, especially if I'm supposed to be doing chores."

"Mary-Beth! Where is that girl?"

Mary-Beth gasped. "Oops! Gotta go!"

She scuttled off back to her table, frantically fiddling with the needle and thread to make it look like she was sewing. You sighed as you tore your gaze from her, eyes settling back on the man in front of you.

Of course, you were staring. Pretty damn hard, too. But hey, when Arthur Morgan is swinging an axe in the blazing sun, sleeves bunched up around his elbows, you just have to stare.

You knew you should at least be more subtle about it, instead of standing there uselessly leaning on a wagon, but whenever your eyes snagged on him, it was almost impossible to tear them away.

You'd lost all shame anyway, ever since he sort of confronted you about your crush. It had been an awkward conversation, one filled with stuttering and apologies. He hadn't expressed any discomfort, though, and simply acknowledged the fact that you liked to stare. He didn't outright reject you, but you knew better than to read into things. And even if he wasn't interested, who were you to deny yourself a show if he didn't mind giving one?

You only tore your gaze away when you heard Miss Grimshaw turning the corner, and you hurriedly tried to look busy. It usually worked, and you were back to staring as soon as she was out of sight.

You inwardly sighed when he sent the axe splitting through the last log. Show's over.

Even as he leaned the axe against the stump and turned to leave, you couldn't avert your gaze. The light was hitting him just right, golden rays bathing his tanned skin and making him look like an angel. Your face burned when he turned and met your gaze, and he simply tipped his hat with a smile. Sometimes you wished he would straight up say something about it instead of letting you ogle him. The heat that rushed to your face every time you were caught was stifling.

You had to resist the urge to follow him and see what he was getting up to next, instead settling on joining Mary-Beth. She looked up at you with a teasing smirk when you sat down, glancing behind you at the man who held your attention. "Show's over, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, sighing. "...Yeah."

She burst into giggled at your confession, dainty fingers going up to cover her mouth. "What's so funny?"

You started at his voice, the closeness of it surprising you. You turned to look at him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You could've sworn there was a knowing smirk on his lips, but you chalked it up to the sun in your eyes. Even though you were facing away from the sun.

"Nothing!" you said too quickly.

"We was just talking about how she was staring at you chopping that wood."

You whipped your stare around to Mary-Beth. She just giggled and shrugged, acting innocent. "I- I wasn't-"

"S'alright, I know you were."

His words only made you want to shrink into yourself, never to see the light of day again. Mary-Beth took her leave, teasingly waving goodbye. She had just left you alone, with Arthur, a blushing mess.

"I don't- you-"

You all but yelped when he sat next to you on the log bench, close enough for your legs to brush. "If I didn't like it, I wouldn't let you do it."

"I didn't mean to stare!"

He chuckled, a low noise that traveled through your body and left goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, you did."

You tried to come up with a valid explanation that wasn't 'I think you're really hot,' but came up short. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No need. I think it's cute, your little staring problem."

You didn't think you could blush anymore, but there he went, making you lightheaded with his words. "You... me, cute?"

His eyes met yours, and you had to stop yourself from swooning. His eyes were so blue, like shining crystals in the sunlight. "Yes, you. I thought it was obvious."

"What was obvious?"

He rolled his eyes affectionately, calloused hand brushing against yours. "That I'm sweet on you."

All coherent thought disappeared from your brain at that moment. "Huh?"

Your skin tingled as his hand grasped yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours. "I like you, sweetheart."

"Is this a joke?"

He chuckled. "No. I know I didn't really go about it right before, but what I meant to say was that I feel the same. It just... didn't come out right."

Your whole body was on fire, overwhelmed at the feeling of him so close to you. "So... you've liked me back, this whole time?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. That's... good."

"Just good?"

Your eyes found his, shining with emotion. "You know what I mean. I just can't believe..."

He stared at you, eyes shining with what must have been admiration. With his hand still holding yours, he stood, tugging you with him. "C'mere."

You stumbled after him, too awestruck to think. He led you to the spot you liked to stare at him from, the wagon obscuring the two of you from the rest of camp. Your back was to the wagon, his frame towering over you and he stood in front of you. He was close, close enough for you to lean forward and be chest to chest.

"When you stand here all clueless, drooling over me like nobody's watching," the hand that wasn't holding yours came up to rest against your cheek, "I have to force myself to keep working and not march over to you and kiss you til you can't breath."

You let out a strangled sound, breath hitching as he leaned closer. You were now trapped against the wagon, his body resting against yours. It was the best trap you'd ever been caught in.

"And when you look at me with those big, lovestruck eyes, I just wanna grab onto you and never let go."

A sigh that sounded more like a whine escaped your lips, knees threatening to give out beneath you. "Keep going."

He chuckled at your words, brushing his lips so, so close to yours.

"When you're concentrating on something, and you make those cute little noises, all I can think about is how I wanna bend you over and see what pretty little sounds I can get out of you."

"Holy shit," you whispered, eyes fluttering as his lips barely brushed against yours.

With a shaky sigh, you grabbed his collar and pulled him toward you, crashing your lips together. He let go of your hand, gripping your waist and holding you close. His lips were warm against yours, gently molding against yours. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his short strands. An involuntary whine slipped from your lips, and it was swallowed by his increasingly desperate kiss. His hand slowly moved to your back, pressing you closer.

When his tongue brushed against your lip, you gasped, and he hummed against you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You recovered quickly, meeting his tongue with yours with matching desperation. Your fingers closed in his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned softly, and the sound traveled straight to your core.

When he pulled back for air, he kept his face close to yours, blue eyes darkened as he looked down at you. "You're so pretty like this, all whiny and desperate."

His praise elicited another whine from your lips and you pulled him back against your lips. This time he kept pulling away from you in between kisses, chuckling as you chased after him. He mumbled soft words against your lips, each one making you want him more and more.

"Pretty girl."

"So good for me."

"So needy."

You whined in frustration and kissed him roughly, hands running over his body. When his hands ran over your ass and gripped your thighs tightly, you jumped up and he pressed you up against the wagon. The angle was torture, your core level with his, and the heat of your arousal was overwhelming. Your hips struggled to meet his, seeking the friction you craved, but Arthur just chuckled against your lips and held you still. "Not yet, darlin'."

You would have been embarrassed by the whine you let out if you weren't clouded with lust. You continued to wriggle against his grip, whining as he tortured you with slow, passionate kisses.

"Arthur!"

He pulled back with a groan when someone called his name, his forehead resting against yours. "Yeah?"

"Got a job for you!"

He sighed. "Be right there!"

You sighed and let your head fall against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby."

You hid your face in his neck, trying to hide the blush his words caused. "S'okay."

He gently set you down, hands settling on your waist. He lifted your face to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with his darkened eyes that held a promise for things to come.

"We'll finish this later."

#rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #smut #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 smut #one shot #arthur morgan smut #x reader #fem!reader #x reader smut

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orphicrose · 1 month

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I love love love your recent fic so amazing!! Just kinda got me thinking what about Sean x best friend reader, two peas in a pot, made for each other bur also kinda complete opposites. I think about "till the end of the line" from the musical the theory of relativity. When separated the two of them are complete opposites but when together they have the best time etc. And Sean meeting the reader randomly, maybe because he heard someone use the reader's last name and it's just a really unique lastname so he kinda knew it was his best friend. And obviously he bring his friend back to camp. The reader would be really smart and maybe actually a good shot but rather quiet and always stand behind Sean in any social interaction. Thinking about "excuse me he asked for no pickels"

Anyway, i hope you can understand what i mean, have a great day

Brothers in Arms (Sean x Male!Reader)

W/C: 1.4K

Summary: Sean and reader are platonic soulmates, meeting after sean gets lost. He returns the favor when Y/n is kidnapped by the pinkertons.

Note: This is very short, and I honestly didn't have a straight idea for this one since I've never written for Sean before. But i tried my best! I do apologies if its nothing that you had in mind.

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

"A lively one you are, eh?" A soft chuckle echoed next to him. Guns out at the ready as they hid in an alley. Away from the law. "Shut up" Y/n bit back at the firey Irishman.

The annoying man was about to open his gob again before y/n slapped a hand over it, steadying their breathing as a police officer walked passed. A sigh of relief left y/n's lips as they went unnoticed.

"If we are going to make it out alive, you are going to need to be quiet, yeah?" Sean nodded in response, pulling y/n's hand away from his mouth.

They made their escape, running from the alley through the streets of blackwater. Making their way to the horses hitched up to a lamppost, and rode like their lives depended on it. Because it did.

"What's you're name then?" Seans voice echoed over the hooves hitting the ground.

"Y/n! I'm taking it you're name is Sean?" He shouted back

"How did you know?" Sean chuckled as he caught up to him.

"Because the Butcher you were robbing from seemed to think you were a regular in there. Did your parents never tell you not to rob the same place twice?"

Their horses began to slow to a trot as they got further away from the area, coming up to tall trees now.

"Did your parents never tell you not to interfere with someone elses robbery?" Sean's horse bumped into y/n's.

"You were doing a poor job. Someone had to help you." The two laughed, finally lightening up from the mess they left a mile behind them. "Where are we going anyhow?"

"My temporary camp at this abandoned shack i found. It's not far." The reins on Sean's horse were raised, and smacked back down. Picking up the pace again, but only lasting for a few minutes before he halted abruptly outside a small wooden home.

"Temporary?" Y/n continued the conversation, now dismounting the horse and hitching it up to a tree.

"Lost me posse. Don't ask me how, but I know they are around here somewhere." He opened the door of his home and invited the man in, sitting himself down on the only chair in the building.

"Uh huh"

"So for now, I'm stuck ere. " Sean motioned around him, pulling out his gun and inspecting it closely. A shot of spit came from his mouth, as he used it to clean his gun with his sleeve. "If you help me find them, I'll reward yous"

"What? With meat that I just helped you steal?"

"No no no, you could join us. We need the numbers"

Y/n scoffed, leaning against a table. "Yeah, we will see."

"So you'll help?"

It wasn't hard to find them. They were a pretty large group, camped out in the middle of New Austin. Y/n found it quite funny as to how much Sean struggled. Their friendship grew rather fast, just clicking. Almost the same person split into two bodies. Dutch was hesitant to let him join, only because he didn't know how he could function with another Sean. But he allowed it. And everyone ended up adoring y/n. They are only an issue when they are actively with the Irishman.

Months passed after Sean was successfully reunited with the Van Der Linde's. But a boat heist in Blackwater split everyone up again. The gang making their way to colter, leaving Sean in the custody of the pinkertons. And y/n? No one knew where they managed to crawl off to. No one even knew if they survived the raid.

Dutch's survivors eventually made their way to horse-shoe overlook. A cozy little spot along the valentine cliff side, overlooking the streams and grassland. Finally on their feet enough to win Sean back, literally. Fighting head on with the detective agency, a risky task to follow through with. But they were successful, somehow. And Sean was back, safe and sound with his friends. Except one. The irishman refused to celebrate their small victory, till y/n was found.

"We don't even know if he survived sean" Arthurs voice raised to an annoyed tone. Not ever hearing the end of it.

"And if he is, we are just gonna leave him? What if hes hurt, huh?" Sean was reloading his rifle, and gathering a group of his things. Ready for the journey ahead. "Yous risked your life for me, why am i not allowed to do the same?"

Arthur remained quiet, looking at his feet and sighing. Then moving out the way of him. "Fina..." He grumbled. "But you're not going by yourself..."

"Why not?" "Because you'll get yourself killed" Arthur hoisted himself onto his brawny horse. "Charles! Lenny! We got something we need to do" He called out, the two men responding rather fast.

Sean felt a weight lifting off his shoulders as they all mounted their horses. The two agreeing to the task at hand. Clearly bored of lazing about camp for a while.

The group of four trailed their way along the coast of West Elizabeth. When it was clear of bounty hunters, they crossed. Caution with every trot. Sean led them deep into tall trees, confusing the group.

"Blackwaters that way" Lenny pointed East, Charles giving him a look of 'i don't know'.

"If he's alive, there is one place he will be" Sean's voice was the most serious he had ever been. Coming up to a small cabin isolated by a beautiful lake, surrounded by a blanket of leaves and sheltered trees.

"Y/n!" Sean repeated, jumping from the stallion and busting into the home, shoulder first. The other men heard laughter following the loud bang. "I knew it! Yous owe me!" They heard from inside.

"We saved your life, I think that's enough boy" Arthur shook his head, finding the enthusiastic Sean holding Y/n in a tight embrace. Y/n wincing in pain as his arms suffocated him.

"C'mon Sean, you're hurting him" Arthur pulled him away, surveying the injured man. "Y'alright, y/n?"

He nodded, gripping at his leg.

The group dragged the injured y/n back to camp, returning to a very warm welcome and open arms. Patting him on the back as he hobbled over to the medical cart.

"What did they do to ya?" Sean was rushing up behind y/n, chasing for answers.

Y/n winced as he perched on a barel, Susan tending to the gaping wound on his leg. "The same thing that happened to you, looking at the gaps in your teeth" Y/n managed to sneak out a forced laugh, pointing at his mouth. Sean scoffed and folded his arms.

"Leave me teeth alone you bastard" He took a seat next to his friend, smacking his leg to cause him some pain.

"We missed ya here"

"You mean you missed me here?"

A few days had passed since the safe return of y/n, and they seemed to become a lot more talkative with the other members of the group. More friendly. They had always kept to themselves, other than with Sean. But the near death experience, and the group risking their lives for him, gave him a new respect for his new family. A new sense of confidence that his life had meaning to others as well as him.

"Hows ya gammy leg?" Sean playfully pocked the barrel of his shotgun into y/n's back, unloaded of course. Y/n swatted at him, and turned back to his view of the muddy lake in front of their camp.

"Better, I can walk just fine now"

"Good, good" Sean took in the same view before speaking again. "Cause Mary-Beth has a coach tip.."

"There it is" Y/n throws an accusing look towards him.

"Theres what?" "The thing that you want from me"

"I just think getting out would be good for you!" Sean put his arms up in defence.

"Yeahh yeah, getting out and helping your sorry arse." Y/n struggled a little to find his way to his feet.

"C'mon gammy leg. You're such a better shot than me"

"I didn't say no, did i?"

#fanfiction #x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 sean #sean macguire #sean x reader #rdr2 one shot #red dead redemption arthur #red dead online #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur x reader

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thqueerestmf · 4 months

Text

The last Christmas

➨ 12/24/1898.

The sound of Javier's guitar accompanied the uncoordinated singing of the gang along with the laughter, the plates of food in their hands were being emptied little by little and the glasses with the best liquor they could buy were being refilled (or juice, in the case of little Jack).

Amongst so many good anecdotes from Hosea's youth, censoring the violent parts for the boy in the group, Dutch stood up with his glass in hand, letting go of Molly's warm hand.

— Alright —was the first thing he said. He put one of his hands in his pocket.— I know we don't celebrate this, or that's how it was 'til Jack was born —he pointed to the infant, who was happily eating a roast potato that Charles had been in charge of making, it was something like his specialty.— There I realized that we could have at least one night where nothing bad could happen, a moment of peace and tranquility between all of us ignoring our differences.

Some nodded, agreeing with that and that was strange, because there was always at least one who did not support Van Der Linde's speeches or ideas.

— I admit that it fills my heart to see you all happy and sharing like the family that we are, a family that was actually getting bigger —and a couple of low laughs.— We have had a lot of problems this year, we have lost and gained people, money and opportunities. But next year will be ours, we'll succeed, we'll have what we want and we'll be able to leave this life we have, I have an excellent plan to achieve it and I hope I can count on your support to achieve it.

— You're giving us a lot of content —a voice said next to him, it was Davey.

— Are you gonna give the speech? —Jenny scoffed at him, taking a sip from her glass. Lenny, who had an arm around her, laughed, followed by others, including Micah.

— Oh, how mean —Davey snorted, smiling slyly.

— No, no. They're right —Dutch said, almost supporting the idea.— Come on, Davey, give us a few words.

— Well, if that's what you want —the man smiled, standing up while Dutch sat down again. He cleared his throat and raised his glass.— I have nothing to say. Keep eating and Merry Christmas.

The others applauded with huge laughter, Davey really knew how to make others laugh with so little. The others raised their glasses, toasting another Christmas together.

The last Christmas together.

#red dead redemption 1 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr headcanon #rdr1 #rdr2 #christmas special #one shot #video games #rockstar games #arthur morgan #john marston #jack marston #abigail roberts #dutch van der linde #micah bell #javier escuella

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laureliciousdefinition · 6 months

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hai….i’m back….here to give more modern (plus some general) hcs!! :3

⭑i like to think of john and abi as highschool sweethearts :) But they were pretty on and off, so everyone was surprised when they made it to senior prom (john wore those tuxedo t-shirts)and eventually graduation! they got pregnant with jack a few months after graduating

⭑when it’s time for spring cleaning, DUTCH IS THE LOUDEST MF IN THE HOUSE. he’s blasting the 70s music, waking up everyone in the house very loudly announcing that it’s spring cleaning day…poor hosea, john, and arthur

⭑i like to think charles makes these super pretty bracelets and sells them online :3 some of the gang members got some! they’re very meticulously crafted and he takes pride in his art!

⭑Karen is def a crazy cat lady. She has FOUR OF THEM!!! She’d give three of the cats really pretty names but let Sean name her most recent one…in which he named the poor cat “napkin” 💀

⭑Dutch and Hosea have an unreal amount of hawaiian pattern shirts..it’s crazy. hosea wears them in the spring and summer but dutch wears them year round

⭑For some reason, it’s tradition on Arthur’s birthday to go to Texas Roadhouse (I know he’d FUCK UP that bread they give as appetizers). He usually has his family, an s/o, and a couple friends there :)

⭑Speaking of fucking up rolls…I think Artie in general would just have a guilty soft spot to sweets. His s/o would come back with those rolls or just any pastry or candy and arthur will feel so special and spoiled! He’ll also do the same thing for them in return :) (Or just any kinda fave food they like)

⭑Lenny was a SUPER smart kid in school. I like to think in the modern au he just graduated outta highschool, but he got all of these scholarships and awards for being such a smart kid. He’d def major in some sort of writing or literacy thing in college

⭑Sadie can and will destroy anyone at those bull riding things at restaurants. she’s got a plaque of her name on it at a restaurant she won at!

⭑This is more of a general one, but seeing Arthur and John compared to eachother is so funny…Arthur is like this big bear while John is skinny and dorito shaped

⭑It’s also funny seeing the heights of the vandermatthews (name still in progress) family. From shortest to tallest it goes Dutch (5’8”…short dutch all the way), Hosea (5’10”), John (5’11”), and Arthur (6’2”)

⭑One time John borrowed Dutch’s laptop and clicked on a weird website, giving the laptop a virus. John was grounded for a few days and Arthur didn’t stop teasing him about it

OKAY!!! that’s all i have rn ^^ i think i might be saying too many hcs but i love making them…they’re too fun!! (sorry for showing my arthur favoritism again sighhhh 😭😭)

So sorry it took me several days to get to this, real life has had me busy 😔 but I’m here now and EEEEEEEE so fun and silly!!!!

-I’ve also always seen John and Abi as a high school sweethearts type of thing, I think they broke up and got back together so many times in that immature high school way until like senior year when they just stayed together

-Dutch is that one vine where the guy was dancing to Morning Train by Sheena Easton

-crying real tears rn imagining Charles crafting stuff for his pals🥹🥹🥹🥹 I could see him eventually getting into bigger crafts too

-Listen I’m gonna defend Sean bc I just KNOW that napkin the cat fits her namesake so well. It’s one of those skrunkly white kittens

-Arthur having a sweet tooth is canon in my heart sorry ladies, I think he’d enjoy baking goodies for his friends/partners bc he’s suchhhhh an acts of service/gift giver love language kinda guy

-I think Lenny was just one of those kids in high school that everyone loved. He was nice to everyone and genuinely really smart, sorry haters but he definitely got voted prom king or something. As he should!!!!!!

-Sadie drives a cool truck but not in a douchebag way, like that woman is hauling shit AROUND!!!!!!!!

These are all so fun and so silly! It’s been a rough week so I genuinely enjoyed getting to read these :) yall please never hesitate to blow up my inbox with thoughts like these!!

#rdr2 modern au #thank u anon #if anyone is reading this I am still working on some little one shot type things for this universe #I’ve just been BUSY and fist fighting my seasonal depression- don’t worry I’m winning and won’t let that bitch get the best of me #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan

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ivoryfioritura · 10 months

Text

The Evening Song

This little one shot fic is originally posted on AO3, decided to post here as well!

Please do not repost my work to any platforms.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48095656

I love comments, and since I’ve finally decided to post my writing, I’m gonna roll with it so I am taking requests!

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The only notable sensations in your body are heat and pain. You’re vaguely aware of the continued sounds of gunfire and shouting, but mostly your ears are just filled with a shrill ringing. The sun beats on your skin, and the rocks beneath you dig into your back, amplifying the agony of the heat searing through your shoulder blade like a branding iron. You aren’t entirely sure who shot you - it could have been any one of those Lamoyne Raider bastards that ambushed your group. The only thing you’re acutely aware of, aside from the pain lancing through your shoulder, is the sound of Arthur’s voice breaking as he had shouted your name, moments before the bullet had found its mark within the muscle and sinew of your gun arm. The pure panic in his voice, panic you’d never heard there before, echoes through your mind as the shots ring out slower, eventually fading out entirely before unconsciousness sweeps you under.

——

Blinking into the sun, you become aware of the solid press of something warm on your back, the equally warm press of a large, splayed hand against your stomach, holding you upright in the saddle of a familiar horse. Words are being breathed into the back of your head, whispers so soft that their contents are lost in the tangled mess of your hair before reaching your ears. The comforting smell of leather, tobacco, and sage wraps around you and you breathe it in, sagging further back into the wall of strength behind you, and you allow your body and mind to fall back into the sweet embrace of darkness.

——

The next time you wake, you find yourself in the medical supply wagon, back at camp. You remember only flashes of how you arrived back here - a man hoisting you up in front of him on his horse, holding you close to him, words like prayers pouring over you from his mouth. Glancing down over yourself, you see that you’re still in your riding pants, but your overshirt has been torn open and removed from your wounded shoulder, which is now wrapped in fresh gauze. Pain lances all the way down your arm and reaches out across your entire chest and upper back as you attempt to lift yourself to a sitting position. Ms. Grimshaw’s presence near you becomes known with a disapproving huff, and she hurries over to aid your movement with a firm hand at your back.

“Glad to see you’re back with the living, dear. I think you gave them boys a right scare.” Grimshaw’s face is disapproving as always, but you don’t think you’re imagining the hint of relief you can see shining in her eyes.

“Oh, I’m just fine, Ms. Grimshaw. I think we’ve all been shot a time or two.” You try to say this with a smirk, but it turns to a grimace as you shift your shoulder, feeling with agonizing clarity the two holes that bullet left in your body. “At least it was a through and through hit. I’ll be back to work in no time.” Grimshaw simply clicks her tongue at you in annoyance, and saunters back off to yell at whichever of the girls isn’t carrying her weight today.

Sighing, you lean back against the inside wall of the wagon, gritting your teeth against each movement. To the left of you are several tonics stacked against the crates lining the outside of the wagon, and you shift your weight to try and reach the one you want. It’s just a hair too far away, and the hand supporting you slips, causing you to tip over and slam into the wooden slats beneath you. With a shout of pain, and a grunt of annoyance, you gingerly lift yourself back to a sitting position using your good arm. You tilt your head back against the wall, lifting your gaze to the dusty ceiling, and decide you’ll give yourself three deep breaths before you try again. God damn this injury - you’ve never felt this completely helpless before. Just as you’re readying yourself for another attempt at simply getting yourself the tonic you need, the sound of approaching boots on gravel pricks your ears, and you turn your head in their direction.

“Well, look at’chu. So battle-torn you can’t even grab the medicine sittin’ three feet away from ya.” The approaching outlaw meets your gaze from beneath the brim of his hat, a teasing glint in his eyes and that stupid grin on his face. He snatches up the bottle you were reaching for, and slides it across the wagon floor into your grasp.

You roll your eyes dramatically, scowling at him as you uncork the bottle and raise it to your lips. He tracks your movements with those intense eyes of his, no longer filled with teasing lightness, and you swallow down the whole thing. “Nice of you to finally come and visit me, Arthur. What took ya so long? I’ve been awake for nearly ten whole minutes, and I figured you’d be here to give me shit after about five.”

He tilts his head down and gives a low laugh, his calloused hands finding rest on his gun belt before he lifts his gaze to your bandaged shoulder, the wound now slightly agitated and causing blood to bloom across the previously pristine white cotton. There’s a seriousness there, behind the facade of his teasing smile, and he looks to be trying to settle on what to say before clearing his throat and lowering his head once again. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Coulda been real bad, had that bullet hit you a couple inches over.” He scuffs a boot across the dirt in front of him, then finally looks at you again, his expression less serious and more the casual, smug expression you’re used to seeing on him. “Better rest up, sweetheart. Uncle and the Reverend are all the dead weight we can afford to carry.” He winks at you with a grin, and turns to walk back to the other side of camp from which he came.

“Fuck you, too, darlin’!” You shout after his retreating from, your voice sweet as honey and a sarcastic smile on your face. You see his shoulders jostling in quiet laughter as he shakes his head and rounds a corner, out of sight. A small chuckle escapes you too as you lay back down on your makeshift cot to get the rest that was requested of you. You try not to think about those emotions you saw flitting across his face when he took in the state of you, assuring yourself he’d be just as concerned if any other members of the gang had been shot. The tonic you took begins to set in, making your body feel lighter and your head heavier. As you close your eyes and drift off back to sleep, you note the scent of leather, tobacco, and sage dancing around your nostrils in Arthur’s wake.

——Five Weeks Later——

“Goddammit!” Your exasperated shout echos off the cliffs to your right, and the cloud of dust and rocks you’ve just kicked up in your frustration begins to settle in front of you. Behind that dust cloud, a particular outlaw leans against the fencepost you’ve been aiming at, clad in all black attire, his shirt unbuttoned low enough to reveal a trail of sweat glistening down the column of his throat, pooling in the groove of his collarbone. He looks like death incarnate, and you choose to roll your eyes at his choice of attire in the summer heat, rather than continue tracing the sweat rolling down onto unseen skin. Once those thoughts are out of your mind and you’re able to meet his gaze again, you can see that he’s smirking at your little outburst, and shaking his head in mock disapproval at the two bottles still remaining untouched on the fence.

“Three out of five ain’t terrible and you know it. My damn gun arm was completely mangled just five weeks ago, you know.” You puff up your chest in indignation, already reloading the Schofield in your hand to blast the remaining two bottles. You accomplish it in little more than a blink, and once nothing but lingering smoke and shards of glass remain, you give Arthur a grin.

“I didn’t say nothin, darlin’.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender and saunters closer to you. “I think you’re comin’ along just fine in your recovery. Honest.” He does look sincere, but with your history of nonstop teasing banter you’re unsure if you can trust it. His hands go to his gun belt and he sighs, stopping a few feet in front of you. “I know you want to get back out there with us. And I promise, once I think you’re ready, there’s nobody I’d rather go robbing with.” He gives you a lazy smile, and you hate that his words affect you the way they do.

“Just wish I’d have seen who shot me. Wish I could have at least gotten him before I passed out.” The gravelly dirt beneath your boots crunches as you idly kick the small rocks in front of you.

“Don’t worry. He was on the ground before you were.” You look up at Arthur as he speaks, his tone icy. His brows are furrowed and his gaze is dark, murderous, and completely trained on yours. “The way you dropped, I thought” His voice breaks along with his eye contact before he continues with a low, dangerous rasp, “I thought they got you. That bullet looked like it went clean through your heart. I don’t remember much between that and getting you on my horse. Just know all those bastards are dead. I made sure of it.”

You stand rooted in place with shock, and you try to swallow the dryness in your throat as Arthur takes another step towards you, looking back up at you from beneath the brim of his hat. “I didn’t realize it was you that brought me back here. I was knocked out pretty much the whole time.” This is a lie, of course, as you were fairly certain weeks ago that you had pieced together exactly who had been holding onto you like a stolen treasure, racing you back through the woods into camp. The intensity of his gaze searing into you suddenly becomes far too much to bear, and you look down at your feet. “You really killed all of them? There had to be more than half a dozen men in that ambush, and only three of us.”

“Javier killed one of ‘em before you got shot. After that, he says it was just me. Like I said, sort of blacked out a bit at that point.” You can tell he’s not trying to brag, just telling it like it was. There’s no hint of pride in his stare when you glance back up at him. What you do see is a raw openness, completely foreign to you. You tilt your head and look at him, feeling unsure of your footing on this uncharted ground. He simply stares back at you with those oceanic eyes, and takes the remaining step towards you, now standing chest to chest, his face turned down towards yours. His mouth works on unspoken words, and he slowly reaches his hand up to brush away a tendril of your wild hair that had fallen over your face. “I can’t stand the thought of you not bein’ around. I was goin’ out of my mind, thinking maybe I’d never get a chance to do this.”

Before you can open your mouth to ask what he means, he trails his hand through the tresses of your hair, cupping the back of your head as he leans into you, his lips a tentative question against your own. It feels like lightning, his hand on your scalp, his breath on your skin. You press your lips against his, just as tentatively, and you share a moment of calm - your bodies pressed against each other, your lips exploring, his hand tightening its grasp in your hair. You can’t think, can’t take a full breath. How long has he been wanting this? How many years with this gang have you laid awake at night, silently touching yourself with his name on your lips, when you could have just gone to him? Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling the heat of him impossibly closer to you, feeling his heart beating wildly against your own. When your tongue dances exploratively across his bottom lip, you can feel something snap inside of him. The calmness is gone, the sudden heat of the moment marked by an almost feral groan in his throat.

He grips your waist in a bruising hold with his free hand, and you wrap your arms up around his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles roll and move beneath the skintight fabric there. His lips chase yours, his tongue now exploring your mouth with fervor. Your breath mingles together, coming hot and heavy as you continue to meld your lips to his. Nothing matters to you in this moment save for your tongues battling in hard caresses, teeth clacking together as you can feel his hunger reach a breaking point.

You realize belatedly that Arthur has been steering you both backwards, taking you fully into his arms as he presses you against one of the trees peppering the terrain. You feel the cool breeze hit your moistened lips and whimper at the loss of him, but without wasting a moment his lips are seeking the soft skin behind your ear, and you moan at the feeling of his stubble scratching the sensitive curve of your neck. His hold on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly and he all but growls into your ear, “Such pretty little noises, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs all the way through you at the sound of his voice, and your hips press harder against his own, allowing you to feel the growing length beneath his gun belt, straining against the buttons of his trousers. A groan escapes his lips then, and he scrapes his teeth down the juncture of your neck and shoulder, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. Suddenly aware of how locked in place you’ve been, you start to hurriedly push his suspenders down his arms, followed by his over-shirt and union suit, your fingers fumbling on the buttons. Your mouth dips to his toned shoulders then, almost of its own volition. You taste the salt of his sweat and the musky flavor of his skin, eyes rolling back into your head as his hands drift down to grip your ass, hoisting you up until you’re forced to wrap your legs around his hips. He holds you up like that, showing absolutely no difficultly keeping you there, his muscles barely even straining with your weight. You focus on his breath, lips, and tongue still working their way across your neck and shoulder, the bark on the tree digging into your skin through your shirt, and his now rock hard length pressing deliciously against your aching center. You feel completely ungrounded, entirely weightless as if you could float away were it not for Arthur’s hands beneath you keeping you steady.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, Arthur.” Your voice comes out breathless, each word an effort to escape your mouth as your chest heaves with the pleasure this man is pulling out of you. His hot chuckle against your skin is the only confirmation you get that he heard you at first, but then he’s lifting his mouth from your skin, and unbuttoning your shirt with an almost unnatural fluidity to his movements. He rips the shirt from your body once its opened, taking greater care on your still slightly sore shoulder. His eyes rove your newly exposed torso, widening almost imperceptibly as they behold your full breasts, your rosy nipples peaked with pleasure. Lowering you gently until you’re standing before him, his hands caress your bare skin as he looks deeply into your eyes.

“I’ve probably wanted it longer, darlin’. If I’d have known…” You cut him off with another bruising kiss, your hands free to explore his firm body now that you’re steady on your feet. He moans softly into your mouth, setting your desire freshly ablaze. The soft breeze blows across your bare torsos, causing you to shiver slightly and press yourself closer into his warmth. His gaze on you is searing as he brushes his strong hands up and down your sides, along the curve of your breasts and back down to your hips. There’s a question in his eyes as his fingers linger along the buttons of your pants, and you answer him with a small nod and a smile. He mirrors that smile with his own as he begins to slowly, gently peel them down to your ankles, kneeling to remove your boots and socks with that same gentleness, his touch on your bare legs like fire. You watch him from above, smiling a bit as you tilt your head, wonderstruck at this trained killer, knelt before you like he’s in a house of worship. You run your fingers through his hair, knocking back his hat, and he looks up at you with stars in his eyes, his fingers rubbing circles into the backs of your calves. He kisses his way back up your legs, thumbs hooking beneath your bloomers, and he maintains eye contact as he slowly pulls those down as well, helping you step out of them. His eyes seem to be memorizing your body now as he traces his gaze across every bare inch of you, the reverence there not allowing space for your own self-consciousness. You marvel for a moment at how powerful you feel, standing naked before this man.

His lips begin to make their way back up your legs, and still kneeling, his mouth nears the slick arousal now painted on the insides of your thighs. Your breath catches and you let out a soft whimper as his tongue laps up the moisture there without hesitation and he growls, deep and primal in his chest. His eyes meet yours, his heated gaze alone pinning you back against the tree. Steadying one of your legs in a firm grasp in his hand, he lifts your other leg and slings it up over his shoulder, baring your glistening core to him entirely. He licks his lips and bites his bottom lip, inhaling the scent of you deeply. You blush at the animalistic look on his face, and without further warning his mouth is upon you, the sensation making your head fall back against the sharp bark behind you with a long moan.

“You don’t know what them noises do to me, girl. And this pretty cunt of yours…” He growls against you, his hot breath ghosting along your entrance, making you moan even deeper. With a growl, he adjusts his legs beneath him, seating himself more comfortably as his lips and tongue continue their pleasurable assault. His tongue laps at you, diving into your core and then dragging back up to circle the sensitive bud nestled above. A gasp escapes your lips, and you close your eyes, running your fingers continuously through his tousled hair. The indecent noises coming from his mouth as he completely devours you only stokes the flames of your arousal higher, until soon enough you begin to feel that delicious, familiar tingling sensation in your extremities, the tightening of your muscles a signal to Arthur as well, and he brings up his free hand to stroke a thick finger through your folds, collecting your moisture there before circling it against your entrance and slowly pushing up into you, your cunt fluttering happily around the intrusion. His tongue never slows, circling and lapping against your clit as his finger slides torturously slowly in and out of you.

“A-Arthur…” You stutter out his name on a breathy moan, silver undoubtedly lining your eyes as he brings your pleasure to a fever-pitch, that tightening in your belly near to snapping. His eyes flick up and lock onto yours, and the bastard gives you a smug grin right as you feel him add a second finger and hook them inside of you, massaging the rough pads of them across the spongey area along your inner wall, making you see stars.

His hair gripped in your fingers, the scrape of his stubble on your inner thighs. His delicious tongue helping you ride out the explosion of pleasure. The bark of the tree scraping your back. The vibrancy of the world above as you throw your head back and cry out, your orgasm positively ripping through your body. Your entire existence is narrowed down to these sensations around you, until you are once again floating back down to earth. Mindless, boneless, your legs shaking, your hands tightening and massaging along Arthur’s scalp as he slides his fingers out of you. You lock eyes with him again, watching as the outlaw brings them up to his mouth and brazenly licks off the remnants of your orgasm left there.

Your lips part as Arthur raises himself back up to stand before you, not missing his opportunity to taste every inch of your skin on his way. He pauses at your breasts, long enough to wrap his lips around your sensitive nipples, swirling his tongue around the peaked buds one at a time. Your hand maintains its hold on his hair - you’ve always loved this man’s sandy brown tresses, especially when he keeps it longer like this. You feel less out of your mind now, more grounded in this moment with him and it occurs to you that being here with him now, being able to run your fingers along his skin and kiss his sensual lips, is something you thought you’d only ever dream of.

With him finally face to face with you again, you’re completely uncaring of the way his lips and chin are still shiny with your slick, and you kiss him deeply. The taste of yourself on his tongue reignites your arousal, and you run your hands down the tight muscles of his stomach to where his belt is slung low across his hips. With a few deft movements of your fingers, you remove it and undo his trousers, never letting your lips leave his. He helps you slide them down his strong legs, stepping out of his boots before removing his clothing entirely. He slides his arms around your back, thumbs trailing a featherlight path up and down the curve of your spine, making your skin erupt in goosebumps.

His eyes are locked onto yours, and you feel yourself getting lost in the stunning, rugged beauty of the man before you as he lifts you up, turns you both around, and lays you down beneath him on a pillowy bed of grass nearby. You can’t stop touching him, can’t stop marveling at the duality of strength and gentleness that come so naturally to him. The soft caress of his calloused hands along the smoothness of your skin has you closing your eyes, shivering slightly. His arms move up to cage your body, covering you completely with his own as you reach down, finding him hard and wanting. You feel him shudder against you as you stroke the impressive length of him, gathering the beads of arousal already dripping from the head of his cock onto your stomach, and using it to glide your grip up and down his velvety skin there. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part as he drops his head next to yours, and you whisper sweet, encouraging words into his ear while you continue pumping him between your bodies.

After another moment, you can no longer stand the emptiness inside yourself, your need for him overwhelming. You widen your legs enough to guide the head of his cock to your entrance, still weeping with desire. He lifts his head just enough for his lips to meet yours, and his hips rock forward ever so slightly. You gasp at the feeling of him filling you, inch by slow, torturous inch, making sure you’re prepared for the entirety of him.

“Please, Arthur.” You whine, breathless, unable to help yourself from begging.

“Shh darlin’, you’re alright.” He croons, one hand smoothing back the hair from your face as his hips continue their steady motions. You glance down between your bodies, and the sight of him slowly disappearing into you makes your eyes widen slightly, and your breaths come a little heavier. Finally, he bottoms out with a low groan, thumb brushing over your lips before capturing them again with his own. His retreat is nearly just as slow, and you’re about to beg for more friction when you feel the thick tip of his cock drag along the sensitive spot just inside your entrance, making you moan. With his body on top of yours, and his cock inside of you, you can feel the effect your sensual noises have on him. His arms tighten around you, propping himself up more comfortably on his elbows, still caging you in. This time when he thrusts, it’s less slow, less controlled, and you run your hands down his back, gripping his firm ass, encouraging him further. With a growl and a nip to the curve of your neck, he begins moving his hips faster, snapping them into you with a tight precision, the friction and pressure deep within you causing you to cry out, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

The noises created from him fucking you in earnest are obscene enough to make you blush, and you would, were you not entirely focused on how incredible he’s making you feel. You can’t stop the noises coming from your mouth - ragged, breathy moans broken up by shouts of pleasure, sweet and dirty words pouring from you without thought. His arm snakes between you, and the rough pad of his thumb circles your clit with featherlight strokes, a delicious contrast to the hard snap of his hips that sends your pleasure once again spiraling to otherworldly heights.

His teeth are gritted and his eyes search yours, reading your expression and the tightening of your body beneath him for exactly what it is. “That’s a good girl,” the deep timbre of his voice is encouraging as his deft fingers and cock continue to drive you further into ecstasy. “Come for me, sweetheart.” His mouth latches onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin while he continues fucking you to your climax, and you cry out with unrestrained pleasure as you crest that peak, eyes squeezing shut and your entire body trembling with the intensity of your second orgasm.

He rides it out with you, his groans of pleasure rumbling in his chest as your body milks his cock, squeezing and fluttering around him even as he continues the same bruising pace, snapping his hips in and out of you. He pulls his arm out from between you, his hand now sliding up your body to palm your breast as his movements become sharper, more erratic. His breath is coming harder now, and he moans around a curse, pushing into you faster before withdrawing himself completely. You watch in dazed, blissful silence as he strokes himself twice, releasing thick ropes of his seed onto your belly. Your eyes meet, and you can’t help the satisfied smile that spreads on your face.

He smiles back at you, a soft thing, still full of that same sort of reverence as before, and he falls to your side, reaching over to grab his handkerchief to wipe up his spend.

You look into his eyes, now alight with some emotion you haven’t seen there before. The two of you lie together in the grass, neither of you quite able to speak yet. The smiles on your faces and the deep, steadying breaths you take communicate what you do not yet have words for. After a while, when the the sun starts to dip and the insects begin to sing their evening songs, you help each other dress, and walk back to camp side by side. A large, calloused hand finds yours, entwining your fingers together as you go, sneaking glances and exhaling soft laughs all the way back.

#rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur x female reader #smut #fluff and smut #protective arthur morgan #dom arthur morgan #hurt/comfort #injury recovery #gunshot wound #friends to lovers #arthur morgan fanfiction #ao3fic #cross posted on ao3 #plot what plot #one shot

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mlmxreader · 5 months

Text

The Outlaw In Front of You | Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ arthur morgan x gn!reader (or male, idrc) “Do we have to meet in a dingy motel in the middle of fucking nowhere?” aftermath of smut, like they’re both putting their clothes on when one of you two realize you only meet in hotels/motels - @mockerycrow ❞

: ̗̀➛ It's a moment of curiosity, a moment of wondering "we've always done this, but why?". Nothing else.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, sexual references

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Drying yourself off with the towel, you hummed as you thought about your relationship with Arthur; for years, you had been together, and although you didn’t mind the secrecy and the sneaking around, you did have to admit - you were kind of curious as to why he always asked you to meet in inns all the time as opposed to in the houses of your friends or at your own home.

You knew it was safe there, as your friends were all… sympathetic, for lack of a better word, when it came to you and Arthur. There was no way that they would tell bounty hunters where he was, and he knew that.

It was just a little curiosity, you didn’t actually mind it so much; a good, warm bed for the night with a hot meal and the man you cared most about in the world beside you - what could possibly be to complain about?

Plus, admittedly, it usually got you away from the small rural village where you worked and lived. It always gave you a change of scenery for a night - or two, if Arthur had found a good enough excuse to be gone from the gang for so long.

But as you left the bathroom and went back into the main bedroom where Arthur was, you paused at the door frame, leaning against it with your arms crossed over your chest; you watched him as he pulled on his trousers, and when he noticed you there, he looked over, and he smiled.

“You all good?”

You nodded, running your hand over the soft bite mark on your throat absent-mindedly. “You sure did a number on me, cowpoke.”

Arthur laughed softly, blush across his features as he chewed at the inside of his lip. “I didn’t mean t’be so rough…”

“Oh, I know, don’t worry… plus, I like it when you fuck me and mark me,” you hummed, coming to sit beside him. Gently, you kissed his bare shoulder. “Y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask - do we have to meet in a dingy motel in the middle of fucking nowhere?”

He shrugged, taking a moment to look at you and all the marks he had left across your skin. “No, but… it’s nice to get away, ain’t it? Just us?”

You nodded, licking your lips. “I’m not complaining, mind… I like the fact that we can go somewhere.”

Arthur nodded, daring to softly kiss you. “You said about a museum a few miles back… I ain’t gotta go back to camp for a couple days - said I was trackin’ down a lead… if you wanna go, we can.”

“You? In a museum?” You scoffed, raising a brow. “I didn’t think it was your sorta thing.”

“It ain’t,” he admitted with a shrug, handing you your shirt when he noticed the small bumps up and down your arms. “But… you like ‘em, don’t ya?”

“I do, yeah,” you tugged on the shirt between short, soft kisses. “But I don’t wanna drag you along if you ain’t gonna enjoy it.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he moved so that he could gently lie you on the bed, straddling your waist as he gently ran his thumb down your jaw. “I ain’t that worried - if you’re gonna like it… we can go.”

“Arthur,” you hummed, hooking your arms around his neck as you smiled. “For a son of a bitch, you sure can be a good damn boyfriend, y’know.”

He smiled, daring to steal another kiss. “Do you wanna go?”

“I do,” you whispered. “And to make it up to you, I’ll buy the first round at the saloon?”

“That sounds great,” he admitted softly. “How’d I get so lucky?”

Arthur wasn’t shy about it. He knew he had found the diamond in the rough with you; he knew that he had found someone who was more than willing to go through every risk and precaution there was to be with an outlaw like him, someone who knew what they were getting into and didn’t mind.

You could keep yourself safe, he had seen that much when you had taken on a pack of wolves who were after a local herd of sheep; he didn’t have any doubts that you could have held your own if bounty hunters were to get in your way.

Sure, he still wanted to protect you, but no more so than anyone else in the world wanted to protect their own partners. He knew he could never introduce you to Dutch or Charles or Lenny or Hosea or Abigail, but that wasn’t your fault in the slightest; you couldn’t change something like that, although he was sure you would have tried if you could.

With you, it wasn’t like with his other partners; you didn’t try to change him at all. You didn’t try and convince him to leave the only family he had ever known, you didn’t try to turn him into a gentleman.

You were content with Arthur the way he was, although you did keep telling him off for shaving, which never failed to make him laugh. You didn’t tell him to change the way he spoke, to try and take away his strong, thick working class accent.

Never once. You didn’t try to tell him that he had to speak “properly”, or that he had to watch how much he swore. The Arthur you had in front of him was the one you were content with, the one you loved.

You always made that known to him, that you loved him just as he was; you noticed a few times when you were first together that he often tried to make himself into someone different, and since then, you always felt like you had to tell him - you didn’t want him to be somebody else, you didn’t want him to try and act like somebody else.

You wanted Arthur Morgan.

You didn’t want somebody else, you didn’t want an actor, you wanted the outlaw you had fallen in love with.

The outlaw you adored.

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