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rosemary-morgan · 9 months

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HC's - Making love with them includes... (+18!)

Warning: Nsfw 18+! Language, cum play, oral sex, erotic massages, chocking

Characters: Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith X Female Reader. Missing someone? Feel free to ask (❁´◡`❁)

Thanks to all who read and like my stories. Stay healthy and take care, my lovely bees 🐝🌺

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

(Just the screenshots are mine)

Javier Escuella

He is in a flirty mood all the time. Just like you. You both can hardly wait to be undisturbed. You need your peace and quiet, far away from the others, to give each other the love you need.

You have been a couple for three weeks now and you are madly in love. There is nothing as delightful for you as making love to Javier.

And you do it very often. But as already mentioned, you prefer your privacy.

Often you will retreat to a nearby town, where you will rent a hotel room to let your love run free. There you both can be as loud as you want; or rather, YOU can be as loud as you want.

Often, in the early morning hours when everyone is still asleep, you make love under the blankets. Quietly and secretly, Javier fucks you slowly and sensually.

⦁ Javier knows how to satisfy you and he knows what you like.

⦁ He loves to hear his name on your lips. He loves the sound of your voice as you lay whimpering before him and, by God, he loves to see your body tremble while he fucks you.

⦁ Also he enjoys whispering naughty words. His voice arouses you deeply, even more so when he whispers in your ear and nibbles on your earlobe.

⦁ You always take time to touch each other, kiss and enjoy the sight of each other.

⦁ Javier loves the feel of your soft skin, loves to feel your breasts on his body. The scent of your beautiful femininity.

⦁ Javier is very tender, makes sure you feel comfortable with him. But he also has a wild and passionate side that you can easily awaken. Then he can also get a little rough.

⦁ But there are also moments when you are getting wild. And that is when you have been separated for a while. Javier will tear your blouse off, rip it apart, and won't lose a moment to press his face into your tits, breathing in the scent of your skin. Whispering how much he desires you.

⦁ Oh, he loves to satisfy you with his tongue. The taste of your vagina, the sweet sound of your voice when you fall into ecstasy. Javier takes his time with it. Playing with your clit; sucking and licking it before entering deep into your wet hole and tounge-fucking you out of your mind.

⦁ But also he loves to receive as well. The sight of you kneeling in front of him, looking up at him while you have his cock in your mouth. Your plump, delicious tits pressing against his thighs...

He loves the way you play with his cock. Your fingers stroking his thick balls, massaging them, only to be taken in your mouth afterwards, greedily sucking them. Javier goes crazy every time you doing this, moaning loudly your name.

⦁ He is also into choking. Not too rough, but he grabs your throat during sex when he wants to increase the arousal; and you love it. And while he's chocking you, he's whispering things to you.

⦁ Things like, "Yo te quiero mucho" "You like the way I fuck your sweet little pussy, Y/N?" "You love it a little rougher, don't you? You're so naughty." And "When I'm done with you, I'm going to fuck you with my tongue. You like it, don't you? Oh, you sweet, sweet girl."

⦁ He loves to take you from behind. Your buttocks that wobble with every thrust. The smacking, wet sounds when his tight balls slap your pussy every time.

⦁ And when you ride him, he enjoys the sight of your bouncing breasts. Your buttocks wobble with every thrust from him. The seductive sight when you roll your head back in pleasure and show off your gorgeous throat.

⦁ Loves to cover you with his sperm.

⦁ Whether you kneel or lie in front of him, spreading his cum on your face or body will make him go crazy with lust!

⦁ And after your lovemaking, he will hold you in his arms, whispering loving things to you until you both fall asleep.

⦁ You will often find a rose next to your sleeping place in the morning, when Javier has to leave early for reasons.

Charles Smith

King of foreplay. He takes a lot of time to please and satisfy you. You will come at least once, before you welcome him deep inside you.

⦁ Sometimes he also gives you a massage. He rubs your beautiful body with fragrant oils and he knows exactly which parts of the body he has to massage and caress extensively to arouse you.

⦁ The sight of your shimmering tits, covert with oil, makes his cock hard as stone.

⦁ And when he massages your pussy, he takes a long time. His fingers circle your clitoris while he looks into your eyes. You clearly see the fire, the passion in them. "How does that feel? Is that good, yes?"

⦁ Eventualy, it leads him to finger-fucking you. You get incredibly wet for him, every damn time.

⦁ Love to give oral sex. Charles takes his time and enjoys you to the fullest. Your scent is overwhelming and if it were up to him, he would lie between your thighs all night. You will often hear words like: "You smell wonderful" "Mhm, you taste so good, babygirl."

⦁ His lips and tongue will explore your whole body, every corner. Charles is very tender, very careful with you, like you're as fragile as flower petals.

⦁ You love the feel of his hands when he touches you, caresses you. And the tingling on your skin where he kisses you.

⦁ Making love with you is something very special and intimate for him. Therefore, he wants to be as far away from the others as possible.

⦁ You both go camping often, and love being in nature. It also often happens that you take a longer break of several days. And in these days, you love each other passionately.

⦁ During your lovemaking you smile a lot and words full of love leave your lips.

⦁ He prefers missionary, for he wants to look into your eyes while he fucks you. This is an intimate moment you share. But Charles also loves to have sex in a sitting position. Your wonderful legs wrapped around his strong hips, your heated, sweaty bodies tightly pressed together and your trembling fingers clawing at his long hair, while he kisses your throat, your round tits... just perfect.

⦁ You have a secret place by a river; where there is no human soul, you make love at the edge of the shore. Your naked and wet bodies shimmer under the sun and under the moon.

⦁ And there's something magical about embracing each other at night while the moon shines down on you and fireflies dance around you.

⦁ Charles often spreads flower petals on your cot or on your bed. Whether it's wildflowers or roses, it's a loving gesture that says a lot.

⦁ He washes you gently with lavender water afterwards, holds you in his arms afterwards. He holds you in his arms until you fall asleep.

Arthur Morgan

⦁ The two of you look at each other. Full of love, full of affection, holding hands and whispering words of love to each other.

⦁ He also prefers his privacy with you.

⦁ You would camp often in nature, where you can make love in your tent, protected from prying eyes.

⦁ Arthur takes his time to undress you, enjoying every moment with you. He praises your body, kisses and touches every corner with incredible tenderness. This alone arouses you so much that you get all wet for him.

⦁ The first thing he always does when you are naked is to make himself comfortable between your thighs.

⦁ He starts by kissing your inner thighs. Very slowly, agonizingly slowly, watching you very closely. Every twitch, every tremor from you he enjoys. But the most beautiful thing is to see the lust in your face.

⦁ Then, when his own lust grows to strong, he starts to eat you out like a pot of honey. He enjoys every drop. The scent of your femininity makes him crazy with lust. Arthur desires you so much.

⦁ He loves the feel of your delicate body on his manly, strong one. Your skin on his - it's heavenly.

⦁ Slow and sensual. Arthur is a pleasure seeker, but after a while the love making gets a little rougher and Arthur reaches for your body a little harder.

⦁ He loves to press his face between your tits! It's pure pleasure for him to be able to feast on you. Greedily he takes them in his mouth, sucks on your nipple, while you claw at his hair and go for pleasure.

⦁ He also loves it when you grab his hair and pull it. Whether he's tongue-fucking you or sucking your tits, do it and he'll be yours for eternity.

⦁ He loves missionary position, for he wants to look you in the eyes while he loves you. Arthur wants to see how beautiful you are while feeling incredible pleasure.

⦁ Afterwards, he will hold you in his arms, words full of love will leave his lips. Always asking you for forgiveness, if he was too rough.

⦁ But Arthur always takes good care of you, and lying in his arms gives you a wonderful feeling.

⦁ Sex in the kitchen is also not uncommon (depending where you live etc.) Desire often overcomes him when he sees you in, while you're making the coffee, or chopping fruit... and by God, he's going to fuck you really good from behind.

⦁ He lays you flat over the table, watching you moaning his name in pleasure. Enjoying the view every time his cock sinks deep into your pussy, his balls smacking against you... You're so wet for him...

⦁ Often he'll smack your ass, gripping it firmly.

⦁ And he is also into roleplaying - Usually he is the bounty hunter and you are his prisoner, completely at his mercy

⦁ You will often find him in the morning preparing some good breakfast for you

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 1 month

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Gossip

Masterlist Word count: 550 Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Summary: You know that John likes you. You know that Arthur likes you. They know about each other, but the others don't. Gossip spreads and, what feels like a ticking time bomb, turns out to be unconnected.

---------

'I don't think he knows,' Abigail says as she sits, knitting with Mary-Beth and Tilly while watching you and Arthur talk. John has gone out hunting with Charles to learn how to use a bow as he is useless with it. Arthur had asked Charles to do so but Abigail suspects he had other motives for getting John away from camp. 'I think he does,' Tilly argues with a grin, 'why else would he ask Charles? Everyone knows John is too impatient to learn how to use a bow.' She's got a point, Abigail figures. Things had been weird ever since you joined the gang. Sadie had found you in Valentine and recognized you as an old friend. In fact, the friend who set her up with her husband. She told the others you seemed lost and needed some place where people have your back. Most were sceptical but your turned out to be a hard worker and a great hunter, bringing in huge game for the camp whenever you went out. Dutch had almost considered letting you take a wagon along so you could bring enough to sell it. That great aim of yours also pulled in different attention. Both John and Arthur became more than smitten with your friendly and kind demeanour. Mary-Beth had suggested that Arthur liked you for your kindness and willingness to listen while John liked you for your viciousness and rough edges. Both great attributes that make you who you are. 'Well, either way, they're both fools,' Mary-Beth claims, ending the argument. 'Do you think she knows,' Tilly questions. 'For sure she knows,' Mary-Beth answers as all of them watch you gently touch Arthur's shoulder as he makes a joke not worthy of the laughter that comes out of you. 'She's really toying with them, ain't she,' Abigail grumbles. Despite liking you quite a bit, she fears what it might do to the gang if Arthur and John are pinned against each other. It's a bad predicament to be in and since the year that John left the gang is still a sore spot for Arthur, Abigail fears things might explode with the littlest of meddling. When her and John put an end to it, she was slightly relieved, but this is just insanity.

'Do you think they know,' Arthur questions you. You shake your head with a grin. 'No, they probably think I'm hopping between you two. They wouldn't be gossiping about us as much if they knew.' 'Fair point.' He puts a gentle hand on your waist to pull you closer and watches at the jaws drop across camp. 'Are you trying to rile them up, cowboy,' you tease as you take a step closer to him. He shrugs. You roll your eyes and press a kiss to his jaw. 'Come on, let's go join Charles and John.' Arthur looks over at the women once more as he leans towards you. 'If only they knew about Charles.' You shove him away with a laugh. 'Oh, stop it. I liked you better when you were still being shy about liking me.'

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mushrubes · 6 months

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Braiding

Masterlist | Red dead redemption masterlist |

Requested : no

Based on character ai { Charles Smith by @/addynot}

Pairing : Charles Smith x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff

Word count : 920

Warnings : friends to lovers, mutual pinning, slightly ooc <3

Have a great day !! <3

——————————–

Contently, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed as your hands weaved the long hair upon his head. “What flowers are you going to use this time?” He asked casually, unfazed as you braided his dark locks. This was routine. Every morning, you’d braid his hair — sometimes using flowers as decor. He never minded, even if some of the gang members picked on him for it. "Lily of the valleys. Found a bunch earlier." You informed as you carefully threaded the flowers into his plait. “They’re lovely,” he murmured, glancing down at the flowers you were so carefully weaving into his braid. “You always take great care to make sure my hair looks its best. I should count myself lucky,” Charles said softly as he ran his fingers through his hair, ensuring it didn’t look too messed up.

"Only the best for my Charles." you grinned at your best friend. He gave you a small grin in return, and then suddenly wrapped you in a tight bear hug, resting his head against the top of yours. Without thinking, he pressed his lips quickly against your forehead. "Are you joining the others on their robbery later?" you asked, gently swaying as your arms wrapped around him. "I'm not sure," Charles murmured, still pressed against you as if he was trying to make as much contact as possible with you. "Would that be okay with you?" He asked, not yet making any attempt to pull away from you. "If you want to go, go. I don't control what you do, Char." I commented, squeezing his arm gently.

"Oh, no. I know, I just thought… Well… That you might miss me," Charles murmured quietly. He didn't want to come across as overbearing or clingy, but he secretly hoped that you would tell him not to go. "Of course I'll miss you. I always miss you when we're not together, love. If I had it my way, you wouldn't be going. But I know how you like your missions, and I don't wanna be selfish, y'know?" You gently caressed his cheek. "I… No, you're not being selfish at all. You're just concerned about me," Charles said, placing his hand atop yours. He had his reservations about going, especially since the last few missions had been disastrous, but he wanted to ensure you wouldn't feel abandoned by his absence. "I just… I don't want anything to go wrong. And I… I don't want anything to happen to you," Charles admitted. It felt embarrassing to say these things aloud, but it was how he actually felt. "I'll be in camp while you're gone, I'll be safe. You however, mister.." You trailed off, frowning slightly at the thought of something happening.

"It's what I do. It's why Dutch recruited me for the gang," Charles murmured softly. "And I promise I'll make it back to you." He pressed his lips against the top of your forehead again, as if he was trying to imprint his love for you into a single kiss. "I'll come back, I swear, love." he assured, his hand running up and down your back comfortingly. "…are you sure you want to go?" you asked quietly, mumbling into his chest. "Of course I don't want to go," Charles whispered, leaning down so his head was right at your ear. He had no desire to leave your side, especially after you'd been so affectionate to him this morning. "But… I have a responsibility to the others in the camp." To ensure you knew just how much he cared about you, he leaned down once more and brushed his lips against your ear. "I know, I know." You muttered, pouting slightly. "I just…I don't know. I wish we could just do nothing all day together, y'know?" I finished, looking up.

"Believe me," Charles murmured, pulling you up so that your faces were level with each other. "That would be wonderful," he whispered. "But I have a responsibility to the others within the gang. I can't sit around with you all day." He gently touched your face. "But once I return from the robbery, I will come to you the first thing I can. You are worth all the time in the world, my darling." he comforted, nodding. "Promise me you'll be careful?" you asked, eyes full of concern. "I promise you with all my heart, I will be careful," Charles murmured quietly, holding you tight in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, and to return to you with no injuries or hardships. He was willing to take the necessary precautions to ensure he did everything he could. With this said, he pressed a sweet, tender kiss against your cheek, hoping that it would be enough to reassure you of his safety.

You pulled him down into a kiss before he could leave, arms around his neck. "Stay safe. I love you, best friend." You responded teasingly, a soft giggle leaving my lips as I pecked his lips again. Charles smiled, looking down at your soft, red lips as a wave of butterflies danced about inside his chest. "I love you more than words could describe," he murmured quietly against your lips, placing his hand tenderly atop your head. "Behave yourself while I'm gone, and… Don't you dare flirt with anyone else." He warned cheekily as he pulled away from the kiss, his own lips left soft and sensitive from the tender lips you had planted upon him.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

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scarfacemarston · 1 year

Audio

Something to add to your fanfics!

#rdr 2 #charles smith #charles smith x reader #charles smith x female reader #charles smith x gender neutral reader #charles smith x male reader #van der linde gang #red dead redemption 2

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12timetraveler · 1 year

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Hey Queen ❤️ hoping you're doing a little better.

Thinking maybe Charles teaching you how to braid your horses mane and tail. Maybe a little suprise kiss 🥺 always adore your way of writing.

Brambles and Braids

Short Sprint

Just a nice little piece with Charles helping reader with her horse.

The whole story can be read in it's entirety below, or on my AO3

"God damnit, Jasper," you grumbled as you fought to pull the brush through his mane.

Your horse Jasper, a beautiful tawny-colored mustang, had a deep love for rolling. So much so that you couldn't leave your saddle on him for long, for fear that he'd roll in the mud tack and all. He also was one of those strange horses who liked to lay down to sleep, often looking dead he was so comfortable. Usually it wasn't that big of a deal. Just meant he was always a bit dusty. But today he'd rolled in a patch of burrs, and they turned his beautiful mane into a matted mess and his tail into one giant bundle of hair.

This certainly wasn't the first time you'd had to fight to get burrs or thistles out of his mane and tail, as often as he rolled and slept on the ground. It was always a nightmare to deal with.

You could have just roached his mane, cutting it all off and letting it grow back out. But for whatever reason you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. He had such beautiful hair, even if he'd lose some strands to these burrs.

So here you were, painstakingly untangling each burr from his hair, only chopping off the really matted strands if you had to. You'd been at it for about an hour already and had only managed to detangle his forelock and the front third of his mane, slowly working your way down his neck.

"Need some help?" Someone asked from behind you, startling you out of your grumbling. You looked over your shoulder to see Charles, the newest member of the gang, standing a few feet back. In his hand he held a mane brush and a pair of shears, all ready to help.

You hadn't spoken to Charles much. You'd been friendly of course, but you could tell he was quite introverted, and wasn't used to the chatter of camp, so you'd let him be for the most part. But he seemed nice, and you’d all been eating better since he joined and started hunting food for the gang.

Okay and you had to admit, he was absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful, well-maintained onyx hair, soft but striking features, warm brown eyes. Even the large scar on the side of his face did nothing to dampen his good looks. He was built like an ox, big and strong. You’d caught yourself eyeing him across camp a few times in the weeks since he’d joined. You certainly weren’t the only one.

"Oh... You don't have to," you said with a smile. "I'm sure your busy,"

"I'm not," he shrugged. "I don't mind. Looks like he's got some pretty bad tangles there. Might take you all day," he noted plainly. You sighed. He was right, this was going to be a long job. A second pair of hands would definitely help.

"Alright, thank you," you said, giving him a smile. "I'd love the help. If you want to start on his tail, I’ll keep working on his mane,"

Charles just nodded and stepped forward, gently patting Jasper's side before sliding his hand down over his rump so the horse knew where he was. Grabbing his tail, Charles started carefully brushing it out from the tips, working out any knots at the bottom to make it easier to work out the burrs further up.

The two of you were quiet for a bit, just working on cleaning up your horse in silence. Jasper was a good boy, just stood there munching on hay as you worked. He almost seemed to enjoy the attention, even though you knew you were occasionally tugging his hair a little too hard when attempting to remove the burrs.

"He's a funny one," Charles remarked after a few minutes, his voice a deep chuckle. "The way he sleeps and rolls all the time. I thought he was sick at first,"

"Everyone does," you giggled. "But he’s just a character. Always has been. He just loves to roll,"

"You probably have to do this almost every day, then,"

"Not usually," you explained. "Most days he's smart enough not to roll in bushes or sleep in burrs," you tugged on Jasper's mane lightly, a small punishment. "But every now and then he gets it in his head that it's a good idea. Maybe once a month or so,"

"Hmmm," Charles studied your horse for a minute. "Have you tried braiding his mane?" He asked. “Might help keep it from getting so tangled.

"Actually I never even thought of that," you said, a little surprised at yourself. It was such a simple solution to the problem but it had never even occurred to you. You'd just accepted your fate. "I think I could do his mane okay but I'm not sure how to braid a horse's tail, with the dock and all."

"It's not too hard. Once we get him all brushed out I can show you if you'd like," he said.

"I'd like that," you smiled. "Thanks, Charles."

Charles gave you a small smile and nodded, turning back to his work. You were quiet for a bit longer. You were itching to ask him some questions and get to know him, but you didn’t want to push him into talking if he wasn’t comfortable. Fortunately for you, Charles broke the silence himself.

“So, how long have you been with the gang?” He asked.

“Mmmm... About a year I think. Maybe a year and a half,” You said, thinking back on it. “I was starving when I came across the gang. Saw the stew pot just bubbling in the middle of camp, and no one to guard it. It was well after midnight, so everyone was asleep. Didn’t see Arthur sitting in his tent until I had half a plate of stew dished up. He asked what I thought I was doing and dragged me over to Dutch’s tent. I thought they were gonna kill me, but Hosea and Dutch invited me to finish the stew on the plate and asked for my story. By morning I was officially part of the gang,” You chuckled fondly. “They like picking up strays,”

“They sure do,” Charles chuckled. “Seems everyone has a story like that,”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “They like misfits more than mercenaries. No one here really set out to be part of an outlaw gang. It just sort of happened. We’re all just trying to live our lives our own way,”

“It’s a good group, for the most part,” Charles nodded.

“Yeah. Most of us have at least a little bit of soul left,”

You and Charles spent the rest of the morning carefully working each and every burr out of Jasper’s hair, brushing it out until it was soft and shiny. Finally, a little before noon, you had it all brushed out.

“Alright. Now we can start braiding, but we need something to tie it with. Do you have any spare ribbons?” he asked.

“I think I do. Or the other girls might. Let me go get some,” You said, setting down your brush and striding across camp to the girls tent.

It took a few minutes to do, and the ribbons weren’t all the same color, but you managed to gather enough ribbon to braid Jasper’s hair.

As you neared where Jasper was grazing, you had to stop. Charles’ warm voice reached your ears.

“--good boy, aren’t you,” He murmured. Charles was standing in front of Jasper, gently scratching his forehead. “Yeah. You just like rolling in the dirt, making your mistress take extra time grooming you. I don’t blame you, she’s good company.”

You felt yourself flush at his words, and you had to take a moment to compose yourself before making your presence known. Charles was still scratching Jasper’s head, though he’d stopped murmuring to him.

“Found some ribbon,” You said, holding up a fistful of different colors of ribbon.

“Perfect,” Charles said with a small smile. “Let’s start on his tail, I’ll show you how to braid it. Then we can work on his mane,”

“Sounds good,”

You came to stand on either side of Jasper’s rear, careful not to stand directly behind him, lest he spook and kick out.

“So,” Charles began. “You can do lots of complicated braids in their tails, but I think for today just a simple braid will be best,”

“Yeah. Jasper’s no show pony. It doesn’t need to be fancy, just functional,”

“Alright,” Charles nodded. “So, on the top part of his tail, you have to braid over the dock,” Charles traced his fingers along Jasper’s tailbone, which was about a foot long. “After that it’s pretty simple. But to start you just take three strands, like a normal braid,” Charles began to demonstrate, “And start gathering the next section of hair each time you bring in one of the outside strands of hair,”

“Kind of like a french braid?” You asked.

“Exactly,” Charles said, showing you with a few more strands before brushing his fingers through it and undoing his braid. “Now you do it,”

You handed Charles the ribbons and got to work, doing your best to mimic what he’d done. You messed up once or twice, getting the braid a little tangled, but all you had to do was just undo the strands and quickly brush it out and try again. Soon you had a beautiful braid started.

“Beautiful, just like that,” Charles complimented. You tried not to preen under his praises. He was just teaching you how to braid your horse’s tail after all. “Now once you get to the bottom of his dock, you can just braid the rest of the hair like a basic three-strand braid,”

You did as he instructed, weaving the rest of Jasper’s long tail, leaving about six inches of tassel at the bottom. You reached out for a ribbon and Charles planted one in your hand so you could tie the braid off.

You stood back and looked at your work. It was certainly not show-worthy, but it was neat and would certainly keep his tail from getting tangled in brambles again. The ribbon was maybe not the most fearsome choice but you didn’t have another good way to tie it up, so it would do just fine.

“Looks good,” Charles hummed, standing beside you to look at the braid. “Nice job,”

“Thanks for teaching me,” You said with a small smile.

“Do you want help with the mane?” he asked.

“Sure. If you don’t mind,”

“Not at all,”

“Perfect. I’ll start near his head, you start near his shoulders and we meet in the middle?” you suggested. Charles nodded and the two of you got to work.

You left Jasper’s forelock free. You liked the way it lay on his face, and you could stand picking a couple burrs out of his forelock now and then. But the rest of his mane could go into braids. They were just simple three-strand braids, nothing fancy. By the time you were done Jasper had about ten braids in his mane.

The last braids, you and Charles were standing side-by-side, trying to respect each other’s space as you braided two sections of hair right next to each other. Your hands bumped on occasion, and he was standing so close you could feel his body heat radiating off of him.

As you tied off your final braid, you happened to look over at Charles. He’d just finished his last braid and was watching you. You met his gaze and you both flashed shy smiles at each other.

“Would... uh.. Would you like to ride into town sometime? Get a drink at the saloon maybe?” Charles asked nervously. “M-my treat,”

“I’m free right now,” You replied with a smile. “We could go for a little trail ride before heading into town,” You suggested.

“I’d like that,”

#short sprint #charles smith x female reader #charles smith/reader #charles smith rdr2

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amorgansgal · 2 years

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Could I pretty pls request a Charles x f!reader fic? Maybe set in the epilogue where Charles and reader find eachother years later, after always having a crush/being really close years before? Nsfw maybe 🥵🔥

I kind of already did this with a headcanon request for a Female Reader x Charles, where the reader was Dutch's Daughter. You can find it here! It is SFW, but I have a couple of other fics with Charles that are NSFW.

#charles smith #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith x female reader

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the-karma-cafe · 3 months

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arthur morgan x reader ("thursdays")

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)

song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)

Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.

How does Javier know?

Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail.

Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean.

A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement).

Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.

“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier’s.

Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log.

“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.

“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed.

He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”

Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”

Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”

Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.

Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”

Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.

“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.”

He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.

He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…

The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features.

Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy.

Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.

“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children.

Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well.

He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.

Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in.

Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.

“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder.

“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face.

Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”

Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.

“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed.

Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight.

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”

Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”

A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.

“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.

The boys grinned knowingly.

“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms.

Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.

Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!

The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.

Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.

And if I ever lose my hands

Lose my plow, lose my land

Oh, if I ever lose my hands

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more

Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.

And if I ever lose my eyes

If my colors all run dry

Yes, if I ever lose my eyes

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more

Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt.

Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did.

And if I ever lose my legs

I won't moan, and I won't beg

Oh, if I ever lose my legs

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more

He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that.

And if I ever lose my mouth

All my teeth, north and south

Yes, if I ever lose my mouth

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more

He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision.

Did it take long to find me?

I asked the faithful light

Oh, did it take long to find me?

And are you gonna stay the night?

This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.

I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.

Moonshadow, moonshadow

He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).

Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself.

“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him.

Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done.

He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!

She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”

He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”

He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.

She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head.

“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn.

He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.”

“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”

“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.

She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”

So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”

Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”

He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.

She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?

“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips…

“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed.

He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight?

Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”

Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”

She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?”

Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings.

What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.

“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.

“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her.

“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it.

“Why not?”

He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.

He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull.

Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches.

Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin.

“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined…

She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it.

She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real.

She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.

Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after.

He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name.

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips.

He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair.

“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”

He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff.

She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”

He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear.

“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.”

He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?”

“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb.

“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same.

She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.

His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.

She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away.

He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still.

Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound.

She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation.

“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them.

She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth.

He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again.

He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up.

He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her.

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks.

“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer.

She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away.

He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting.

“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily.

His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?”

She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands.

“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity.

Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh.

She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth.

“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it.

“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations.

He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside.

“Arthur…” she whined.

“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her.

She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .”

He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed.

Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably.

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly.

She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.”

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek.

She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in.

She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t.

She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?”

“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip.

She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him.

“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her.

She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled.

He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly.

She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her.

He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-”

Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met.

“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning.

He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust.

Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer.

“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him.

She whined at the pressure, growing limper.

“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back.

She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.

“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.

He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers.

She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”

He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.”

She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.

He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes.

A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye.

He blinked. He squinted.

He rubbed his eyes again.

“Holy shit.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Bonus

The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them.

She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”

He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.

He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her.

A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”

Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.”

He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #charles smith #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #lenny summers #sean macguire #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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peaches-creek · 4 months

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“It’s actually fucking freezing out.”

“Bit chilly.” Is all he says

“Bit chilly? BIT CHILLY? My hands are fucking blue, LOOK!” You exclaim, showing him your hands.

“Mhm quite blue,” He says as he grabs one of your cold hands, “better?”

“A Bit” you huff.

He looks at you with a big bright smile, admiring your fake annoyed face, knowing that his actions just melted your cold heart.

Simon “ghost” Riley, CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne.

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goldsainz · 10 months

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ACCIDENTS HAPPEN — one shot.

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: i have nothing to say today… enjoy!!

liked by charles_leclerc, emilylind and 406,879 others

yourusername baecation time 🐚🌊

view all 6,103 comments

ynfan1 Y/N YOU’VE BEEN SOFT LAUNCHING SINCE FOREVER LET US KNOW WHO HE IS

ynfan2 come home the kids miss you💔

pierregasly Ugh I didn’t need to see this today

⤷ yourusername get off my page???

⤷ pierregasly No I don’t think I will

user1 the mystery of who her man is remains

ynfan3 the one thing we are almost sure of is that he is in f1… like that’s it

francisca.cgomes i thought i was your bae?

⤷ yourusername you’re my #1 he doesn’t mean anything

⤷ pierregasly 😒😒

ynfan4 i miss single y/n :(

charlesfan1 isn’t charles in ibiza too???

charles_leclerc has uploaded deleted an instagram story!

liked by carlossainz55, jessalxander and 573,629 others

yourusername charles when i asked him what he posted on his story:

view all 8,604 comments

charles_leclerc I said I was sorry!!! And I bought ice cream!!!

⤷ yourusername the least you could do since you ruined my soft-launch😔😔

ynfan21 GUYS???? WHAT????

charlesfan21 didn’t have this on my bingo card for this year…

pierregasly LANDO OWES ME 5O DOLLARS

⤷ landonorris Literally shut up.

⤷ charles_leclerc What did you bet on…

⤷ pierregasly Who would out your relationship first, duh🙄

user21 crying at lando and pierre betting on their relationship

ynfan22 we officially lost her💔

ynfan23 SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!!!

ynfan24 cannot believe the mystery man is charles… this crossover is insane

liked by yourusername, rosalia and 3,085,742 others

charles_leclerc I will be this woman’s personal photographer for as long as she’ll let me. Even when she says I ruined her “soft-launch”. Je t’aime toujours, mon coeur ❤️

view all 46,286 comments

yourusername ig this is kinda cute…

⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t lie, you love it

francisca.cgomes meh i could’ve done better

⤷ pierregasly Excuse me???

⤷ yourusername i recommend you “the other woman” by lana del rey!! i feel you will be very represented, pear

ynfan31 i am so not normal about this

charlesfan31 when will it be my turn…

charlesfan32 CRYING IN THE CLUB FR

lewishamilton 🤍🤍🤍

liked by charles_leclerc and 106,538 others

user31 someone ask carlos how he’s feeling rn

charlesfan33 now we wait for their paddock debut

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softrozene · 1 year

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Short and Feisty Female S/O that Likes to Cuddle

Ladymogar asked: Aaaye I’m always so happy to see new writing blogs in fandoms I love ❤️ could I get hcs for Arthur, Charles, John, and/or Sean for having a smol s/o? Like short and fiesty but also into cuddly times? Thanks doll, I’ve really enjoyed your writing so far!

rdr2 masterlist

I adored this request and had to do all the characters suggested AND I added Javier because he is delicious. I would say the reader in this is under 5’5” (165.1 cm) as that is what is considered short where I am from but it’s different everywhere! Anyway, I’m glad you enjoy my writings, Hon!

I did go off this link when I think of the characters’ heights!

Originally published on March 31, 2020

Arthur, Charlies, Javier, John, Sean x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff

Arthur Morgan-

Honestly, for him, I think he would be so fucking smitten with you

You would literally be everything he wanted in a partner

Small (or well smaller than what he would’ve imagined) but so much cuter and god the fire in you? To die for

He can 100% see himself risking it all for you and going to settle down to have a family with you- but that’s the future for him

The present with the gang around he would be hard to read

Or that’s how he likes to imagine himself

The second you stroll up to him and have to crane your neck to look up is the second his heart melts and that gentle giant comes out (maybe for a second but everyone in the gang definitely saw it)

Your feisty side originally made him assume that you weren’t the touchy-feely type

So when you first cuddled with him he was probably as stiff as a board and awkward but with you coaxing him into more cuddles which he always accepted he has realized how much he loves them

Poor boy is definitely touch-starved so he would never ever deny your cuddles no matter what time of day it is or who is present (Though he may get flustered)

It would become one of his favorite things to do with you

Charles Smith-

Omg for Charles since he was a loner before the group and since the group has mostly taller people he would be astounded by your height at first

I feel like he would be on edge the whole time and make sure that he never ever harms you

That would probably be his number 1 fear in the relationship (Poor babe is scared he’ll crush you with his pinky or something)

It would take him a while to get used to being in a relationship with someone as small as you but thanks to your feisty side it makes him feel more comfortable eventually

It definitely eases him that you are not as fragile as you look (though let’s be honest he probably would adore how fragile you look since he would take on the protector role in the relationship)

He knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself though

This boy is touch-starved to but he has boundaries

He would set certain times or have cuddles only restricted to nights and away from prying eyes

He tries to compromise with you but really he believes that intimate moments should remain in private and once you do get to the cuddle session he will be absolute putty in your hands (Or you will be. It probably all depends on his mood)

Javier Escuella-

This gorgeous man would never say anything about your attitude or height… in English of course

In Spanish, he’ll be teasing you relentlessly and you’ll be dying to find out what he’s saying

Your feisty attitude with this just makes him happy (and a tad impressed if you get mad enough to try and hit him)

No one else is allowed to comment about your height beside him- You both make sure of that

He would flirt with you constantly and without shame

And that’s how you would eventually get together

When he finds out you are a cuddler?

He’ll embrace and relish in it

He’s a romantic through and through so he won’t care where, when, and who is present he will always encourage and initiate the cuddles too

Though because he is a romance it could lead somewhere else and that’s when whoever present needs to speak up is

If you are outside the camp with him expect him to expect you to remain by his side or on his arm

He just likes the fact he can proudly show you off but if it ain’t your thing he won’t force it

Is absolute favorite time with you is when the two of you are cuddling, you in his lap, and he has the guitar on your lap strumming away as he sings softly into your ear

John Marston-

He would be the one that wouldn’t care at first

It just doesn’t catch his attention and I feel like he would try to avoid you since your small stature and feisty nature reminds him of Abigail

Though once he does give in and you two become friends he’ll start to appreciate your stature and nature

He won’t comment on your height but he will purposely place things out of your reach to watch you struggle for it or so he could be “smooth” and help you (Yes imagine the cliché thing where the guy goes right behind the girl and they touch hands or something lmao- that would be John if he likes you)

Once he is confident that you aren’t like Abigail and you won’t get mad at him for teasing or initiating contact with you he’ll become more confident

I feel like he would be the first to try to cuddle and so when you let him he would just be awestruck

He doesn’t care too much about PDA around the gang but every once in a while he’ll pull you onto his lap and honestly if you let him or encourage him- he’ll probably marry you on the spot

John will appreciate you wanting to cuddle him but sometimes he’ll have his moods where he’ll need to be alone for a while

Don’t worry though because he will come back and feel bad for rejecting a cuddle and he’ll try to make it up to you

Sean Macguire-

Would be the one to immediately say something about your height the first time you show up in the gang

He has no shame in teasing you, flirting with you, constantly picking on you

When he genuinely likes someone he’ll seem like a bit of a jerk but the cuteness of it is undeniable

Everyone in the gang will know why he acts like that and eventually you will too

However, because of your feisty nature, the beginning of the friendship and relationship would be both of your personalities clashing

He would 100% enjoy this though where you may get annoyed beyond relief

He is the one who would pick you up and carry you around camp to either piss you off or show off your smaller stature

1000000% Would be the one to use your head as an armrest and be all smug bout it

I think in general that Sean with a very short s/o would be a hilarious relationship

He could have his romantic moments but there will be absolutely no witnesses to show this

Unless he goes to Arthur, Hosea, or Dutch for help on how to charm you (That is the only time those three will have not lost faith in Sean’s romantic life)

As for cuddling, this boy lives for it

However, his hormones also live for it so the cute cuddles can and probably will turn into something else rather fast

Again he has no shame so he would try and cuddle (and do more tbh) with the gang present

#softrozene writes #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #javier escuella x reader #john marston x reader #sean macguire x reader #female reader #fluff #rdr2 headcanons

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immajustvibehere · 8 months

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"Spark" Masterlist

An Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader enemies to lovers fanfiction.

Summary: An impulsive and reckless girl who stands for everything Arthur tries to overcome joins the gang. Even worse, she is related to Micah Bell. What starts off as a relationship of mistrust and hate slowly transforms into a beautiful, deeper connection, as both parties realise that there is more to the other person than what meets the eye at first.

Chapter 1: 1.9k words

Chapter 2: 1.9k words

Chapter 3: 2.6k words

Chapter 4: 4k words

Chapter 5: 3.3k words

Chapter 6: 3.8k words

Chapter 7: 5.4k words

Chapter 8: 7.5k words

slow burn, enemies to lovers, diverts from canon story towards the end, fluffly, no smut, though intimacy is sometimes implied

I understand if you don't want to indulge on a long read, not knowing if the you're working towards a bad or happy ending. I'll include it in the tags, so if you want to be "spoilered", have a look at them!

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr #rdr fanfiction #enemies to lovers #van der linde gang #charles smith has many appearances lol #careful spoiler #yes you get a happy ending

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stoutpancakes · 3 months

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Charles Smith is a munch and an enthusiastic one at that. I’m talking man could live and die between the thighs. Waking you up with his tongue or fingers. His fingers!!! They’re so long and thick, the perfect girth that you’re barely able to take three and he loves to watch the way your pussy lips spread open around his digits and clench around them. Now his tongue? Oh boy, Charles is a MASTER. Loves to tongue your hole or broaden it to lap at your clit. Will not stop until you’ve cum at least three times minimum… max? Well, there’s no telling on that. This man is such a giver, and what he gives most is worshipping your pussy like you’re an absolute goddess! Stan Charles Smith right now or else-

#don't judge me pls #charles smith #rdr2 smut #rdr2 #charles smith rdr2 #charles smith x reader #charles smith x reader smut #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 headcanons #charles smith headcanons #charles smith smut #please accept this humble offering #college sucks #this is what i got #female reader #afab reader #body worship #smut

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moeitsu · 22 days

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: A well deserved hunt with Charles, met with an unexpected surprise back at camp... Ao3 Wattpad Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10 Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

CH 5 - My Heart Beats On As Warmly Now

“What began as a journey had become a retreat into the unknown. We were backing into the abyss; so worried our sins would follow us we didn’t bother watching where we walked. And behind us was a cliff.” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883

Arthur’s anger dissolved with the storm, replaced by a heavy sense of regret as he trudged back to camp that evening. All he wanted was to drown his shame in a few bottles of liquor, away from prying eyes, away from the disappointment he felt in himself. He hadn’t intended for Kate to see that side of him, not yet at least. And certainly not against a sickly innocent man. He let his anger and frustrations get the better of him. Like he switched on auto-pilot and let the outlaw in him take control. He worried now that Kate might actually leave, and he blamed himself for that.

Swiftly, he made his way to the crate of beer bottles behind the chuck wagon, grabbing a few before retreating to his tent. He craved solitude, a respite from the demands of camp life, from the weight of his own mistakes.

Seated on his cot, a beer wedged between his legs, Arthur opened his journal, the one constant in his life since Dutch and Hosea taught him to read and write. It was his confidant, his sanctuary in a world of chaos. John always gave him shit for it growing up, calling him a pansy and constantly trying to snoop in his personal entries.

Despite being in a gang for most of his life, he still felt incredibly lonely. There weren't many people he would truly open up to. So his journal became that person. It was the one thing that did not judge him, ever. But even as he poured his thoughts onto the page, he longed for a human connection, someone to truly understand him.

Hosea and Dutch had been like parents to him, raising him from a young age in the ways of the outlaw. They had their flaws, but they had also shown him kindness and guidance when he needed it most. He always saw Hosea as his father, he would consider Dutch his father too, although he was more like an older brother at times. Hosea was probably the only person who truly knew Arthur, and saw the things he wished not to speak about. Neither parent was perfect by any means, and Arthur could recognize that. But even as an adult, there is still a child inside that longs for the comfort of a father.

It was that fatherly instinct that drove Hosea to Arthurs tent that night.

“Evening Arthur,” he greeted, holding open the tent flap, “may I come in?”

He put down his journal and nodded. Gesturing for Hosea to join him on his cot.

“I noticed Kate didn’t ride back with you, is she okay out in this storm?” He inquired.

Arthur smiled with a slight shake of his head, that's Hosea for you. Always worried about others, here he was checking on his son but was more concerned about the lady he left behind.

“I’m sure she’s fine, saw her heading into Valentine,” he answered, taking a sip of his beer. He handed one of the full bottles to Hosea as the older gentleman sat down.

“I take it things didn't go well then,” he said with a hint of sympathy.

Arthur sighed, “when do they ever.”

As they sat together in the dim light, the rain drumming softly on the canvas roof, Arthur felt a sense of comfort in Hosea’s presence. He didn’t need to explain himself, didn’t need to justify his actions. Hosea simply listened, offering silent support.

“I don’t know why I do it,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The man was sick and weak, I should've just given him a warning.” Arthur concluded with a shake of his head.

Hosea sighed knowingly. “I think you can blame your fathers for that son,” taking a sip to clear his throat, “Dutch and I did what we thought was best at the time and well, you were quite impressionable when you were young. We used that to our advantage to turn you into a grade A outlaw.” He said gently with honesty.

Arthur chuckled at the memories of his youth, before John came along he was the golden child. He used to love it when Dutch would teach him how to pick locks, or when Hosea taught him a whole book of curse words. Had he not been the son of outlaws, his life would’ve looked very differently.

“We’ll always be thieves,” he mused with a hint of nostalgia, “only difference now is that the world don't want us no more.”

Hosea nodded, silently agreeing, “We're doomed just like every other creature on this rock Arthur,” he remarked with a wry smile. “I just wish I had acquired that wisdom at less of a price.”

After a moment of contemplative silence, Arthur spoke, his voice heavy with regret. "I just wish I’d done things differently," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. His remorse mixed with his actions at the Downes ranch, and for every mistake he’s made in the past that led him here.

Hosea laid a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding. "We can't change the past, son," he said gently. "All we can do is learn from it and strive to do better in the future."

Arthur nodded, the weight of Hosea's words settling over him like a blanket of reassurance. "I don't want to be the kind of man who hurts others for no good reason," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I want to be better, for Kate, for everyone."

Hosea squeezed Arthur's shoulder affectionately before rising to his feet. “She’ll come around, son.” He offered a parting reminder, “underneath it all, you have a good heart.”

Before he disappeared into the night, Hosea turned back with a final piece of news. “By the way, your brother wants to speak with you about using that oil cart you found to rob the train tomorrow night.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “He ain’t my brother,” he muttered disdainfully.

Hosea chuckled. “Well, you two sure argue like brothers. G’night, Arthur.”

He tipped his head to the old man as he left, “night Pa.”

Arthur laid back on his cot, tucking his journal into his satchel when something small and round fell out and made a soft pitter on the ground. When he looked down he saw the peach pit, the one Kate gave him on her first night. He reached to pick up the small seed. His thumb ran over its hard wrinkles.

He held it tight to his chest, and silently promised he would make things right with Kate. If he ever saw her again.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, reveling in the freshness that lingered after the storm had passed in the night. The scent of newly sprouted grass and moist earth filled her senses, while dew-kissed leaves sparkled under the gentle caress of the rising sun. A light breeze danced around her, carrying the promise of spring on its wings. It felt like the start of something new as if the world itself was awakening alongside her. It was the perfect day for a ride.

She met Charles in the early morning, exactly where he said he’d be. Waiting for her to begin their journey into the wild lands in hopes of finding a fresh hunt. They were a few hours into their journey now, heading north into Ambarino to hunt cow elk. Just one 200 pound elk is enough to feed the entire camp for a month. Maybe more. It was a day's ride there and back, short enough to keep the meat fresh in time.

With a satisfied sigh, Kate exhaled the tension from her shoulders, “this is exactly what I needed Charles, thank you.”

Charles smiled warmly, guiding his horse closer to hers. "Thanks for joining me, Kate," he replied, his own gratitude evident in his tone.

With her face tilted to the sun, she savored the moment. Allowing Lorena to guide her. A silent trust shared between them, that her mare will take her where she needs to go. “You know, I always thought you preferred hunting alone. I never see anyone go with you.” Kate remarked, eyes still closed in bliss.

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Arthur and I have gone together a few times, but other than that, I don't seek much company from the others," he admitted, his words tinged with honesty. It was clear that while he valued his fellow gang members, solitude was his preferred companion in the wild.

“That why you’re always so quiet?” She inquired, innocently.

Charles chuckled softly. "If the choice is folks thinking I'm dumb but not knowing for sure, and folks knowing I'm dumb because I sound like them, I think I'd rather keep them wondering," he explained with a grin. The confidence in his voice a testament to his strength.

Kate chuckled, her eyes reflecting understanding. "I get that. Sometimes it's better to keep people guessing," she replied. Under her breath she added, “I know some of those men can be pretty dumb,” loud enough for Charles to hear.

Charles exclaimed in frustration, “tell me about it! All this death and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run from what we've done?”

Kate pondered for a moment, she still didn't know what happened all those weeks ago that drove the gang of outlaws here. It was the one piece of information they didn’t talk about around her. Perhaps Charles would share the missing pieces. “What happened to everyone to cause you to run?” Her tone colored with genuine curiosity.

As Charles recounted the events of that fateful day, Kate couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for what they must have been through. The gang did not like to talk about Blackwater, and the consequences must have been devastating.

"It was a fucking execution," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "We thought it would a simple job robbing a ferry, carrying payroll. But there were civilians too." Kate could already imagine where this led. $5000 for his head alone, the words echoed in her mind.

“We raised a lot of hell that day, and things got out of control. Next thing we know, the Pinkertons are on us along with the law. And everyone just starts shooting. I don't know which one of us shot first but that's all it took. There were passengers caught in the crossfire.” He shook his head with disappointment. She couldn't imagine the terror those innocent people must have felt as they found themselves caught in the chaos.

“Dutch he,” Charles hesitated, “he killed a young girl. Just to get the law off him. And no one batted an eye.” His voice heavy with emotion. Her stomach churned at the thought of such senseless violence. “We lost three good people, and John barely made it out alive.”

He turned, facing her, "I don't kill for fun Kate; I kill when I need to," he urged, his tone pleading. It was clear that he was grappling with the moral implications of their actions, and Kate couldn't help but admire his integrity in the face of such darkness. One so hauntingly familiar.

“Arthur came out different after Blackwater,” he added with a sigh.

“Being an outlaw can’t be easy,” Kate added, trying to lighten the mood. She understood the hardships and turmoil that came with senseless violence.

Charles huffed and shook his head at the memory, “easy certainly wasn't in the job description.”

As they rode on, the weight of their conversation hung heavy between them. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were all running from something far greater than the law. A feeling she was not immune to.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Their hunt had been successful, tracking and swiftly killing a massive elk. They settled in for a fire and camped near a lake for the night. Enjoying fresh fish for dinner. In the morning they tied their game to the back of Taima, and began their journey back to camp. Kate’s spirit felt lightened in a way, the two of them spent most of the night sharing stories. And she realized she and Charles had a lot in common. A gentle reminder that she is not entirely alone in her struggles.

The ride home went by quickly, and with the sun tickling the horizon, they arrived at the great plains of New Hanover, and eventually, the familiar overlook.

As they rode into camp, the air was thick with urgency, Miss Grimshaw's voice cutting through the chaos. "Alright girls, everything into the wagons, now!" she barked, her tone sharp.

Charles swiftly brought their kill to the chuck wagon, while Kate hurriedly dismounted and rushed to join the flurry of activity. The girls worked frantically, packing crates with blankets and clothing, fear etched on their faces.

"What's happening?" Kate asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Mary-Beth paused in her task, her expression grim. "Arthur and John got into trouble with the law in Valentine," she explained, her hands moving quickly. "Dutch says we need to leave, fast."

A surge of panic swept over Kate at the thought of Arthur and John in danger. "Did they get caught?" she asked, her heart pounding.

Mary-Beth shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted, sympathy in her eyes. "But we have to go."

As Kate’s mind began to spiral with the worst outcomes imaginable, a voice rose above the commotion. Speaking of the man himself.

Dutch's voice cut through the chaos. "Charles!" he called out, his tone urgent. "Find Arthur at Dewberry Creek, we need a new hideout." Charles turned on his heel with a nod, mounting Taima and taking off back down the trail they came in on only a moment ago.

With his words she felt a sudden sense of relief, Arthur is okay. Their last conversation weighed heavy on her heart. And she would be damned if that was the last time they spoke.

Dutch's voice commanded attention once more. "When they give us the all clear, we move out! Let's get to work, people!" he shouted.

Mary-Beth and Tilly went back to their work and left Kate alone with her thoughts. She returned to her belongings, packing quickly. But her moment of respite was short-lived as a sickeningly familiar voice cut through the air like a bullet.

“Well hello Kate,” Micah said with disdain and arrogance.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit Micah,” Kate retorted, her patience wearing thin.

Micah advanced, his eyes blazing with hostility. "Funny how you show up right when trouble finds us," he taunted.

Kate scoffed, the idea completely absurd, “you idiots robbed a fucking train, did you seriously expect a welcome home party?” She shot back, her voice filled with sarcasm.

Micah's gaze narrowed. "We were set up in Valentine, someone ratted us out," he growled, his words dripping with bitterness.

“I was just hunting with Charles,” she explained, not bothering to hide the bite in her voice, she refused to play his game.

Micah approached with malice, his fist twitched at his side, ready to pull his pistol any moment. "Well Charles ain't here now,” he gestured around the camp, “and we think it was you," he hissed, the accusation cutting through the chaos.

Realization dawned on her that he was setting her up, but the reason why was still unclear. “And when Charles comes back he can testify to that,” she spat, turning to continue her packing.

He closed the distance between them with predatory grace. In one swift motion, he raised his pistol. Before Kate could react, the butt of the gun connected with her temple, sending a searing pain shooting through her skull. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as she stumbled backward, the world spinning dizzily around her. Darkness threatened to engulf her.

As she struggled to regain her bearings, Micah loomed over her, a twisted smirk playing across his lips, “we’ll be long gone by the time they come back princess.”

With a sickening thud, Kate's head hit the ground, the impact reverberating through her skull. As the world faded into blackness, she felt herself being pulled into an abyss of darkness. The last sound echoing in her ears was the distant whinny of Lorena, a mournful cry that seemed to fade into the void.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The commotion of the camp kept her drifting in and out of consciousness for the next hour. She heard Abigail's voice call out to Kate in concern, and Micah snapped back warning her to keep her distance. She also realized her wrists had been bound along with her ankles, with Micah standing guard over her like a dog. Like she could run away in this state anyways.

The darkness began to creep in again, and in a moment she awoke and Micah was gone. It was almost dark and she was in a different spot now, away from the center of camp and behind the tree line. That fucking bastard tried to leave me here. She thought with bitterness.

In the midst of the chaos, a familiar voice pierced through the camp, but Kate's mind was still swimming in a fog of confusion. Wagons rattled as they hurriedly departed the overlook, leaving Kate struggling to make sense of the commotion. Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself up onto her knees, squinting through the haze.

Then, like a beacon in the night, Arthur's horse appeared, Belle’s white coat gleaming amidst the darkness. With a surge of relief, Kate locked eyes with Arthur, who rushed over to her side, his expression etched with concern.

Her consciousness flickered like a dim candle in the wind as she slowly regained awareness. The throbbing pain in her head was a harsh reminder of what had just transpired. Blinking away the haze, her vision blurry.

"Kate? Are you alright?" Arthur's voice cut through the fog, filled with concern as he took in the sight of her bound wrists and ankles. Swiftly dismounting Belle and pulling a knife from his belt to cut her free.

Her head throbbed as she recounted what happened and she felt sick in the stomach. She couldn’t stay with them anymore, not after this. Micah was a real problem, and if what Charles told her about Blackwater is true, then Dutch is likely the same.

“I’m okay,” she answered wearily, “Micah set me up,” a hint of fear mixed with rage creeped into her voice. Arthur helped her rise to her feet, just as the last wagons were leaving the overlook. Without missing a beat she turned to find her horse.

Arthur was slightly taken aback, unsure if she was still upset with him from the nights before, all while trying to make sense as to why Micah had set her up.

“I-I’m sorry Kate,” he pleaded, “I shoulda been here,” his voice was laced with remorse. His strides quickened as he closed the distance between them. Kate's heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice, but she knew she couldn't stay.

“It’s not your fault,” she reassured, “but I have to leave.” She decided in the moment, ripping the bandaid clean off. She longed to stay with Arthur and the gang, but she no longer wanted part in this trouble. “Goodbye Arthur,” she bid him a solemn farewell.

“Kate,” he called out, desperation filling the air. He wanted to stop her, to grab her and beg her to explain what happened with Micah. But the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, she had made up her mind. So all he could do was stand and watch as she rode off.

She clutched at Lorena’s reins, taking off in the same direction as the wagons, intending to ride past them and make her way to Rhodes, hopefully putting enough distance between them so she could get her bearings and be on the move again. Her heart raced with adrenaline and disappointment. Things could not have taken a turn for the worst.

She used the darkness to her advantage, slipping away from the wagons as they took a path down following the railroad tracks, while Kate veered off towards the twin stacks. As she climbed altitude she watched the wagons below, specifically watching Arthur take off behind them, his mare flying through the train of carts and horses like a butterfly dancing between flowers.

She paused for a moment, letting herself consider that perhaps she wasn't just running away out of fear, but something else as well. She thought about the girls, and Charles, who had just become a dear friend after their hunting trip. She thought about Abigail, who must be clutching little Jack close to her heart at this moment, praying John will see his family out of this alive. Her last conversation with Arthur still ate at her heart, so many words went unspoken that she wished she had said that night.

Memories of her past came back in waves along with the painful throb of where she had been hit with Micah’s gun. Her fear, mixed with her disappointment and anger. A reminder of her own weakness.

Yet, she decided long ago that she would never live in that kind of world again, where the weak would rather guilt the strong than become strong themselves. This world doesn’t care what the weak want. This world eats the weak. Therefore, she became strong.

The sudden sound of gun fire dragged her from her thoughts, she rode farther up the slope looking for the source of the noise. She saw in the distance the tiny images of wagons and horses, and a group of raiders descending to their location..

Gripping the reins with such ferocity, Lorena reared on her hind legs as Kate spun her around and took off back down the slope. She would not let death sink its venomous teeth into the belly of another.

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scarfacemarston · 6 months

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Z,q and B prompt list for Charles? Love how you write him,so thank you if you do!

Thank you so much! I appreciate you. <3 Prompt here! B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?) Charles as a best friend is actually quite different than a romantic partner! I think it takes him longer to get silly with an s.o. than a best friend. The epilogue shows us what a happy Charles looks like with John. Charles' friendship with Arthur was during a very strained and serious time. He's happier to do things quietly in companionable silence rather than talking, but if you're friends with him, you already know that. He appreciates people that don't try to force him to interact if he doesn't have the energy. . If you're stressed, sometimes he prefers to take you out with him somewhere rather than talk. However, he is great at giving advice and can be hilarious He's loyal to a fault. He's actually a lot of fun and is great at trolling people. He is sometimes fun when drunk and canonically gives piggy back rides. Q - Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? ) The quiet types are usually great at remembering details because they listen. Charles is no different. He is the type that will bring up details that even you forgot. However, his memory isn't perfect. He's more likely to forget things when he's stressed. His mind holds so many things that sometimes things just go "poof".

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?) This boy snores. I'm sorry, friends. It's bad snoring, too. HOWEVER, John and Arthur canonically snore as well. (I've posted the audio clips). Still, it is LOUD out there in dreamland.

#charles smith #charles smith x female reader #charles smith x reader #charles smith x male reader #charles smith x gender neutral reader #charles smith x arthur morgan #charthur

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imwall-e · 7 months

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Until we meet again : Chapter 1

Pairing : TB!Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warning : MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAY THE GAME, major character dea•th, tuberculosis, angst, (tell me if I forgot some), reader but external POV

A/N : I wrote this a few months ago and finally decided to post it. I'm really proud of this chapter, my best work so far (imo). I first wrote it in French and mostly used Deepl to translate the text, and even if I re-read it, they may be some mistake so don't hesitate to tell me! This is not beta read. This is my first work for the Red Dead fandom and I hope it's good. Consider liking, rebloging or commenting if you like my work (and feel comfortable with that of course).

The atmosphere of Beaver Hollow was already being felt long before we arrived at the new camp. The area was dark, damp, stinking. It was as if it were haunted. Cursed. As for the cave, it was a concentration of all that, only worse. Once home to a local gang nicknamed The Rejects of Murfree, it bore indelible traces of the horrors it had harbored. The smell outside was unbearable, but inside was a vision of dread. Blood was visible from floor to ceiling, pieces of decomposing corpses smeared all the way down to its entrails. Impossible to settle inside.

Where just a few weeks earlier the gang had been celebrating their exit from the snowy mountains, and everyone was ready to give their all to make a new place a comfortable place to live, now there was no laughter to be heard. Not a smile was to be seen on any of the faces. Only whispers, distrust, fear and death reigned.

And Arthur… his coughing fits were becoming more violent, and more frequent. His skin was pale, contrasting with the blue of his eyes, which betrayed his illness and fatigue.

Outlawed, hunted by the Pinkertons or opposing gangs like the O'Driscolls, he'd been shot at many times. And yet, he was dying of tuberculosis. A fucking disease. After all, he'd probably earned it with the life he was leading… had led. His punishment for beating up Mr Downes. A good man, always ready to help others even though he didn't have much.

Arthur, who'd never done anything right. Or so he thought, but she was always there to remind him otherwise. After Mary, after Eliza, he never thought he'd fall in love again. Then she'd come along, and offered him more than he thought he deserved.

Arthur had met her while hunting. She was wearing a long white dress. At first, he thought he saw an angel. Then their eyes met. He saw the fear in her eyes and decided to put down his bow. He introduced himself and she gradually seemed to calm down. After a few minutes' silence, she finally told him her name. Her voice trembled, but she'd asked for his help: she was supposed to be getting married that very day to a man she'd never met. But what she was looking for was freedom.

She wanted to travel. To discover. To live. And Arthur had offered her all that. For five years, they'd been happy together. Arthur had even proposed to her while they were still in Blackwater. But they'd kept it a secret until things got better.

Unfortunately, the moment never arrived.

Micah was a traitor. And Dutch had blindly followed him, going so far as to question the words of John and Arthur. He'd rather believe a dangerous madman than those he considered his own sons.

Arthur should have left after the Blackwater massacre. Hosea had tried to warn him when they'd all fled to Colter. Or he should have let Micah hang at Strawberry. If only he'd been willing to open his eyes to what Dutch had become. To his true nature. If only.

But it was too late now, and there was no point in dwelling on the past. Now he had t o protect those who remained. Tilly had already taken Jack to safety. Abigail was safe thanks to him and Sadie, and the two women had left to join Tilly. Mary-Beth and Karen had probably escaped too. She was the only one left. And he knew exactly where she'd be safe.

He helped his young fiancée onto her mare, then settled down behind her. He wanted to smell her hair while he still could. He wanted to hold her close. However, time was running out and lingering was a luxury they couldn't afford. The person he was looking for was passing through the Annesburg area, but they'd better get moving fast. He nudged the horse's flank to move it forward, and whistled for the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings to follow.

The journey wasn't long, but it went by faster than he would have liked. A dilapidated house appeared in the distance. Arthur had exchanged a few letters with the man who had taken an interest in his bleak landscape, a man he had helped not long ago. He was standing outside, setting up his camera. His gaze wandered to them, and he soon recognized Arthur.

"Mr. Morgan! I'm so happy to see you again! As you may have noticed, I've given up taking pictures of wildlife. I'm now content with the magnificent landscapes" exclaimed Albert, warmly greeting the man who had helped and saved him on numerous occasions. But his familiar enthusiasm soon disappeared when he saw the young woman's tears and Arthur's sickly pallor. "What's the matter?" he asked worriedly, abandoning his camera.

"Mr. Mason, I need you to…" but Arthur was interrupted by a coughing fit causing him to cough up blood as he stepped to the ground. "I'm dying and I'd like you to take care of my fiancée."

The young woman tried to smile at Albert, but knowing that the man she loved would soon be leaving her was too much to bear. It dashed all memories, all hopes of a better life with her cowboy.

"I'm sorry I haven't written to inform you, but recent events haven't given me the opportunity," Arthur resumed after helping his beloved off his horse.

The tears continued to roll silently down the cheeks of the woman who was to become Mrs Morgan. She was silent now, staring into space.

"Mr Morgan…", Albert didn't know what to say. This kind man, who had come to his aid so many times, was going to die. He could see the sadness in the lovers' eyes. And Albert saw only one way he could do something for them: "Don't worry, I'll take care of mademoiselle."

Arthur was relieved: she would be safe. She would live. He turned to her: she seemed no more than a ghost. But she had to fight. For him. For her. For them.

"I love you, Princess," he began, taking her in his arms. "More than you can imagine. I wish I'd said it more often. I regret so many things. But I promise we'll meet again. Not in this life, unfortunately, but in another. I'll find you again."

"We… we… we didn't even have time to get married," she managed to articulate between sobs, the crying resuming in earnest following Arthur's words.

"It wasn't our time. Now you must stay with Albert. Live, princess. Do it for me. I'll always watch over you, but promise me you won't let yourself die."

"I… I promise, Arthur."

That was all he needed to hear. He had to go now. He had unfinished business with Micah, but also with Dutch.

The sun was setting as he rested his forehead against hers. His way of kissing her for the last time, wanting to avoid her contracting tuberculosis too. He squeezed her hands and heard her whisper "I love you, Arthur".

He gently let go of her hands and she kept her eyes closed, not wishing to watch him go. To tell the truth, she was so focused on remembering his scent, his laugh, his voice, that she didn't even hear him mount his mare and gallop away.

When she opened her eyes again, the sky had darkened. A storm was approaching. Arthur was gone. Only Albert remained, looking after the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings. He knew she wouldn't move immediately, but it was time to go. He'd better get back to the cabin he'd rented before nightfall.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry but we must leave now. Tomorrow we'll go to Rhodes, my house is close to the city."

"Of course," was all she could reply, her gaze fixed on the mountains.

The journey to the cabin Albert had reserved was silent. The storm was roaring in the distance. She held back from joining Arthur. But she had to keep her promise.

Without Arthur, life would be difficult. Her heart would be broken forever, but she had to try. And one day, they would be reunited. She had to believe that.

The rain finally came, falling on her cheeks and mingling with her tears. She couldn't stop thinking about all those mornings she'd wake up alone. She couldn't accept that he wasn't coming back. Ever.

"Mademoiselle?" Albert's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We've arrived. You should try to eat something and get some sleep." He didn't know what to do or say.

She followed him silently. Inside, she sat by the window, where she could see the mountains near Beaver Hollow. Soon, she closed her eyes, tears still flowing.

Her mind took her to a river in the middle of the woods. The light wind gently moved the leaves on the trees. She was wearing a long white dress. A branch cracked, startling her. But it was only Arthur, wearing the hat he always wore and the blue shirt she loved so much.

"You're beautiful," he said, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Dance with me?" Was there an answer other than "yes"?

And, each immersed in the other's gaze, they danced. Without stopping, they talked about their future: having a ranch, raising horses, starting a family. A quiet life away from traitors and the Pinkertons. Just them.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, princesses," he replied, kissing her tenderly. A deer passed by them. Then nothing.

When she opened her eyes again, she knew Arthur was gone.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Albert and the young woman began their journey to Rhodes.

"I think you'll like Rhodes very much, mademoiselle. It's much quieter and warmer since the Gray and Braithwaite families, two rival families, entered… well, since they left."

The young woman smiled at the mention. It brought back memories that were certainly recent, but seemed so long ago. But her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared as she recalled Sean's death.

Then came Kieran's turn. Hosea. Lenny. Eagle Flies. John. And Arthur.

Sensing that she wouldn't talk any more than she had the day before, Albert decided to talk to her about anything and everything, in the hope of distracting her from the sadness that overwhelmed her, even if only for a few minutes.

"The landscape is also much brighter. Annesburg offers beautiful scenery, but it's a very dark, eerie area. Rhodes is nicer, warmer."

Albert was right: the further they got from Annesburg, the fresher the air seemed, the more colorful and welcoming the surroundings.

She glanced back one last time, to where Arthur had remained. Her heart sank. She felt she was abandoning him. But she had to stay strong.

Finally, Rhodes appeared before them as the sun tinted the sky orange, ready to give way to the moon.

"Miss, look!"

A majestic deer had stopped in the middle of the road, staring at them with its big dark eyes.

"It's the first time I've seen one approach like that. They're usually very frightened," Albert continued.

The deer approached the young woman and rested its muzzle against her leg. She gently touched its large antlers, then the animal moved away, disappearing among the trees.

"Goodbye, Arthur."

I hope you liked this first chapter!

#red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #first red dead redemption fanfiction #angst #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption angst #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #fanfic #dutch van der linde #sadie adler #micah bell #john marston #charles smith #albert mason

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