#Rdr Drabble

[idyllghost]

I’m stoned but you wanna know a headcanon I have that has the potential to hurt; Arthur slipping up and calling Miss Grimshaw mom.

Like I just know in my heart during his upbringing Arthur would accidentally call Miss Grimshaw mom. With every question, her demands for him to wash up, and general concern for him it would just slip from his lips. A simple “Okay mom.” And an immediate embarrassment as Miss Grimshaw smiled. And it comes so naturally to call her that, because despite his limited memories of Beatrice Morgan something about the way Miss Grimshaw’s warm hands would stroke his hair during fevers and stern voice reminded him of her. She reminded him of something so intrinsically tied to home. Regardless, he’d get embarrassed over his slip ups but, Miss Grimshaw’s heart would soften every time it happened because in the end, just like Dutch and Hosea, Arthur was her son. It was evident to anyone who watched them closely for a while that she held a soft spot for Arthur; honestly for both her boys and young Tilly. She raised that boy right along with Dutch and Hosea. That very fact is what made what Dutch called ‘Arthur watch’ so hard for her.

Everyone was vaguely aware of Eliza and Isaac. It wasn’t ever really a secret. Arthur, despite being scared shitless at the prospect of having a child and sporadic visits, it was evident Arthur was proud to have a son. Which is why when Arthur came back early from visiting Eliza and Isaac everyone’s stomach sank. His eyes were hidden behind the shadow of his hat as the sun began to retire for the day. Arthur didn’t have to speak a word that night for everyone to gather what had happened; that he’d lost them.

He’d hidden in his tent for days, barely eating and only crying faintly in the night when everyone else should have been asleep. Eyes red rimmed and glazed as tired hands clumsily made coffee in the mornings. He’d also gotten careless during jobs, getting injured more frequently and spacing. Miss Grimshaw herself suspected that was only the surface of what was going on in his head, after all he was always a quiet child so bottling up his emotions so tight they’d struggle to surface would only be second nature. It’s knowing this that made Dutch implement ‘Arthur Watch’. A way to, as Dutch put it, “make sure he’s safe”. A way that had the tension in the room spiking and Dutch’s voice shaking as he explained it.

 It had to have been midnight with the way the moon glared in her face when Hosea shook Miss Grimshaw awake to replace him in watching Arthur. She was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes when she approached his tent, barely comprehending the sounds that faintly escaped it. But once the last bit of sleep left her mind she was able to fully hear it; fully understand. It was soft cries, muffled in an attempt to conceal them, and her heart broke. Her movements halted and her breath hitched as her heart broke at the pain she heard. But, she steeled herself, lifted his tent flap, and entered. She let out a soft and raspy“Arthur?” And she inevitably heard rustling and a mumbled curse as he lit his lantern. With the light illuminating his face she saw every sharp curve and edge, the thin skin below his eyes almost bruised from restless nights. The red rim around his eyes combined with their puffed up state. His cheeks ruddy and damp. 

“Oh Arthur,” before she realized it she was sitting on his cot and patting his shoulder and he slumped into her touch. His body and mind tired. She pulled him closer to her, a way reminiscent in the way she’d pull him to her when he was barely 15 and waking up screaming from night terrors. With his heavy head on her shoulder she combed through his hair with her hand. “It’s okay son, you’ll be okay.” With those words the floodgates opened as he sobbed into her shoulder and all she could do was hold him through the pain. He only lifted his head up to gasp for air and croak out, “It hurts… Mom it hurts.” And her heart broke even more as she held him closer to her. 

[hihomeghere]

My eyes only | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 500+ (just a little guy) Summary : Arthur thinks you look like a work of art Warnings/tags : Fluff, allusions to smut, nakedness, Arthur being in love, set in Shady Bell.

“You look like one of them paintings.” Arthur said lying next to you. Supporting himself on his arm as he sat up, his blanket hanging low on his hips. The sight offers you the slightest peek at the low v of his pelvis. His arm unconsciously flexed, the muscles of his bicep pulled tight.

“What do you mean?” You chuckled, rolling over to face him. Heat poured off your skin, your hair sticking to the back of your neck as you come down from your high. The only thing covering your nakedness was a flimsy sheet, pulled lazily over your body by Arthur.

“You know, those portraits.” He said, a wicked grin on his face, “The ones that French feller made in Saint Denis.”

“Arthur!” You laughed, hitting him on the chest, a satisfying slap echoing through the room.

“What?” He laughed, deep and heartily. His shoulder shook as he grinned.

“You’re awful.” You said, shaking your head, trying to hide your smile.

“You’re laughin’.”

“Am not!” You chuckled looking up at the rotted ceiling. He rolled over, wrapping his hand around your bare waist. Digging his fingers into the soft skin of your side, you squirmed laughing under him. “Stop! Stop!” You cried, your cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. The setting sun peeking through the window, illuminating Arthur’s backside like a halo. Although he was anything but an angel at the moment. “I’m gonna pee!” You laughed, your hands planted on his chest as you tried to shove the ox of a man off of you.

“Alright, alright.” He relented, collapsing on top of you. You let out a loud ‘omph’ as he pushed all the air out of your lungs. You rolled your eyes, your fingers drawing mindless patterns along his freckled back.

He picked up his head, smirking up at you. “I’m serious, ya know?” He said softly, his finger trailing down your cheek. The hands of a killer, hands that have beaten and broken the strongest of men. Now lay featherlight touches along your face. “You’re beautiful.” He said, a soft blush covering his cheeks, the scars on his nose and chin a stark white against his skin.

If anyone looked like a work of art it would be Arthur. His body seemed to be carved out of marble, strong and hard. His muscles rippled under his flesh. And those eyes, bright blue pools you often found yourself drowning in.

“I think I should be saying that to you.” You whisper, smiling up at him. He shakes his head, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Nah, ain’t much to look at here ‘cept for you.” He mumbled, laying a kiss on your shoulder. You’d have to disagree, but your words die on your tongue as his lips lay a trail over your collarbone and up your neck.

“Maybe I should ask Mr. Châtenay to paint my likeness, hm?” You tease. His hand, no longer laying dormant next to your body, squeezes your hip.

“Not a chance in hell darlin’.” He said grinning wickedly at you. His other hand that had been moving along your cheek gripped the back of your neck. “You’re for my eyes only.”

[ak319]

★ Oh Scandalous, Scandalous Men

I Reader is Arthur's sis, just playful bantering I

You and Sadie are perched on a log by the campfire, legs crossed, the sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the camp, and most of the men are milling about doing their own things.

Perfect timing.

Y/N: (gasping theatrically, nudging Sadie’s arm as you point across the camp) "Oh no, Ms. Adler! Would you just look at Marston over there?"

Sadie: "Haw, tsk, tsk, tsk. Showin’ his ankles like some common hussy. Where’s his decency?"

John: (looking up from fixing a wheel, hearing his name) "What?"

Y/N: (shaking your head, sighing in utter disappointment) "Ankles, John. Both of ‘em. Just out in the open like that. Ain’t proper."

John: "My ankles?! What are you--dammit, I ain’t got time for this nonsense! You both jus' always yappin' shit-" (returns to work, ignoring)

Sadie: (clicking her tongue, turning to you) "Guess Abigail lets him run around like that. Poor woman. She must be so embarrassed. Imagine (Y/N), father of her child, acting out like that in the open. No manners or soft spokenness in that one , I tell ya'. Don't know how she tolerates all that."

(Y/N): "Yeah, she really needs to keep him in line. Tells ya why he still is a spinster, though."

Sadie: "Men these days... no modesty or delicacy left in ‘em."

Arthur: (walking by with a cup of coffee, pausing as he catches the tail end of your conversation) "What the hell are you two squawkin’ about now?"

Y/N: "Speak of the devil. You’d better watch yourself too, brother. That shirt of yours is showing a lot of skin. You seriously can't be ruining my name now."

Sadie: (snickering) "Yeah, Morgan. Cover up, will ya? Gotta keep it respectable ‘round here."

Arthur: (deadpan, raising an eyebrow as he sips his coffee) "Y’all lost your damn minds, haven’t ya?"

Y/N: "Excuse us, but we’re simply concerned citizens. The least you could do is take our advice if you want to survive in this society as a man. Stop shaming our family's name, please."

Sadie: "Mhm. Wouldn’t want ya temptin’ anyone. Y’know, like poor Karen over there. She’s got delicate...sensibilities."

Karen: (from a distance) "I’m drunk, not delicate, Sadie!"

Arthur: (chuckles as he turns to leave, muttering under his breath) "I reckon I’ll take my chances with the wolves. They’re quieter than the pair of you."

Y/N: (calling after him) "Arthur! Don’t walk away when we’re talkin’ modesty! That’s how rumours get started."

Sadie: (choking on laughter, wiping her eyes as she leans back) "Lord, we should do this daily!."

Y/N: (doubling over) "Yeah, and they deserve it. Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in check."

AN: had this in drafts for so long😭

taglist: @shackspossum @nayykura @whalecage

[stottlemorgan]

Modern Day Arthur Morgan Moodboard

[feinv]

jealous/possessive low honor!arthur morgan x hyperfem reader... he's so hot sorry,,, arthur doesn't like other men having their eyes on u or something??

-🎀

low honor!arthur morgan who is mean to everyone but you. that right there. that’s how i die. — arthur morgan masterlist.

ᯓ it’s very grumpy x sunshine undertones you two got. he is this mean, rude, six foot tall outlaw who is literally wanted for murder and people advise not to get close to him when spotted outside. and you are his sweet little thing, kindest and purest soul, always so full of love. and you got him swooning after you. <3

ᯓ the thing is. he loves showing you off. he wants everyone to see how mesmerizing you are. and that you chose him. but he wants them to see that from afar. anyone flirts with you at the bar or even tries to start up a flirty conversation would just be signing themselves for a trip to afterlife.

ᯓ it’s not unusual for prying eyes to find you two, a rather odd couple. a broody looking man dressed in dark with an angelic sweet lady hanging by his arm. so he doesn’t mind when people stop their doings to stare. but once that stare turns into lust and you got men checking you out, it’s a disaster.

ᯓ he knows that in contrary to him you hate when he gets into fights, so he will always try to keep his calm with you, shooting silent but deadly daggers with his eyes at others.

ᯓ absolutely smiles at you while you rumble his ears off when the two of you are in a saloon just conversing over drinks. but that smile is reserved for you only. you are not sure others even know he can physically form a smile.

ᯓ would absolutely beat someone who dared to throw a perverted comment at your direction to an unconscious state before finding your trembling body at the corner and coming to hold you with one hand on your waist, the other caressing your cheek, his bloody fingers leaving stains on your pretty pink dress. :(

“y’know i would never hurt ya, sweetheart. but those bastards need to know you’re mine,” kissing you softly before it progresses into a hungry make out session.

[miguel-owhora]

thinking about bill williamson and how pretty he'd look all red and flushed, pretty pink color spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, swimming down to the rest of his body like the ripples of a lake. how stunning he'd look underneath you, plush body out on display with not an article of clothing to hide such beauty away from you.

fat spills from his belly and from his thighs, stretch marks all over like the unique and stunning stripes of a large tiger, only rivaled by the season old scars and the hair that litters his body; so thick and plush, it reminds you of a bear. because that's what bill is, isn't he? a large, burly, strong bear in need of some good loving.

kissing him so nicely he can't help but squirm underneath you, each sound that slips from his mouth - whether it be a groan or a breathless moan - has him growing even more flustered, and though embarrassed, can't find it in himself to stop nor push you away. though the thought does cross his mind when your hands, calloused and scarred over, gently open his thighs, he doesn't shy away.

well, doesn't try to stop you. he does, however, look away, biting his bottom lip and sending you a flustered smile with hazy eyes when the spreading of his thighs reveals his pussy.

just like the rest of his body, his cunt is flushed, fat, and hairy. his fat lips are pinned by his fat thighs, the hair on his inner thicker, thickening and darkening as it spreads to his cunt, like the barrier of a pretty garden. his cunt glistens with slick, cock swollen and throbbing.

both his cock and bill himself twitch when you circle his cock with your thumb, spreading his lips open and watching, mesmerized, as he slowly grools. he looks so pretty, flushed and wet and fat and plush, all for you, staring at you with round eyes, unbelievably flustered and needy.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

｡☆✼★━sᥙᥒsᥱts ᥲᥒd kιssᥱs || Arthur Morgan ||

A/n: Thank you for bringing back my Arthur Morgan obsession.

Arthur Morgan never thought he would find love again, not after what happened with her. He didn't see a point to even try, he wouldn't have been good enough for anyone well he thought that until you stumbled into his life.

You were everything to him, thanks to you he found happiness again. Thank's to you, he was able to leave the gang. While Dutch may not have been happy it did not matter because now he could finally have a family.

Helping you on the horse, Arthur hummed as he slipped behind you. His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you in as he kissed your temple. "Now hang on tight darlin."

Grinning, you pressed your body into his as Arthur nudged the horse. You two didn't go far, just a nice spot that two would watch the sunset together.

"Isn't this a pretty little spot."

Letting out a soft laugh, you grasped his hand bringing it to your lips. "Our perfect little spot."

Grinning, Arthur placed a kiss to your temple then pulled you in for a deep kiss as the sun slowly started to set.

Letting your tongue glide across his lips you pulled away then smiled as you relaxed into his chest.

"This is perfect."

Letting his thumb glide across your cheek, Arthur sighed as he held you close as your gaze and his turned towards the sunset. "So very perfect."

[cemetery-sunset]

Hat Thief pt. 2 - Micah Bell x Morgan!Reader

Summary: After Reader stole Micah's hat playfully, Arthur catches her wearing it and is not happy.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings / Tags: morgan!reader, she/her pronouns, fighting

A/N: i said this would be just a oneshot and look at us now, im not even mad about it. divider from: @saradika-graphics

After she ran away from Micah’s shouts, she went around the big, white house to the other side of the camp. She saw Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen sitting at their wagon, working on their sewing and washing. 

“Hey, ladies!” Her smile was nearly splitting her face as she tipped her hat to her friends. They immediately took notice. 

“Honey…” Mary-Beth started, trying to approach the subject respectfully. 

“Where’s your hat?” Tilly cut her off.

“Oh, it’s just inside, why?” She turned and gestured to the big house. 

“No reason…” Mary-Beth tried to play it cool, glancing at her friends. They all had matching looks of concern donning their faces. 

“Why the hell is you wearin’ Mr. Bell’s hat?” Karen rudely asked, spitting venom on the man’s name. She always said it like that, everyone did. Nobody ever called him his name kindly, or with respect. It was always venomous… and he was always venomous in return, it was a never ending cycle. 

“I stole it from him.” She smiled, slightly laughing as she said it. She made it a point to be over dramatic and pose with it. 

“I think it looks good on me, right?” The trio sat stunned, looking up at their friend. 

“If your daddy sees you in that-” Mary-Beth tried to remain civil. 

“What the hell is Arthur gonna say?!” Karen got all too worried and loud. 

“You gotta give that back.” Tilly kept her head and only spoke logically. 

“Why would you even take his hat anyway?” Tilly added as Mary-Beth looked around their friend, trying to scope out if Arthur was anywhere in sight. He was not. 

“Well, I just…” The thief trailed off, her face flushing as she failed to find the words to admit her intentions. 

“I thought it would be funny to mess with him!” She shook her head and tried to keep up a cool facade. 

“There are plenty of ways to mess with Mr. Bell that don’t require givin’ your father a heart attack OR spreading rumours ‘round camp….” Karen said, glancing at Tilly and Mary-Beth for a moment before focusing on her friend. 

“You… do know what it means to wear a man’s hat, don’t you?” Karen asked, not wanting to embarrass or scare off her friend. 

“Karen Jones! I would not- I mean I don’t- That’s improper!” The thief flushed bright red. The truth was that she did know what it meant, she knew it all too well. Her intentions were only to flirt with Micah and mess with him a little… she didn’t plan this far, after her moment with Micah.

The girl all erupted in a chorus of laughing and comments in disbelief. They tried to ask her more questions, but the thief was too embarrassed at being caught. 

“You can’t like Micah, honey, he’s horrible!” Mary-Beth said, trying to comfort her. 

“I don’t like him!” The thief tried to retaliate, but got cut off. 

“Then why’d you take the hat?” Tilly asked. 

“And more importantly, why is you still wearin’ it?” Karen nearly laughed. 

The thief’s face could not possibly get any more red. She threw up her hands, and pushed the hat further onto her head. 

“That’s IT! I’m done with y’all! I don’t like him!” She stormed off like a child being caught red handed. 

“This isn’t going to be good. I hope she gets rid of that thing ‘fore Arthur gets back.” Mary-Beth said, worried about the possible chaos. 

As the thief was walking, she reached up and touched the brim of the large, off-white hat. The feeling of the hat, the texture of it felt nice on her hands. It felt different than her hat, it was nice. She didn’t realise a small smile was on her face until she reached the main campfire in front of the big house. 

The thief sat down on the log by the fire, just enjoying the sight. Nobody else was around the fire, there was just Reverend on his bedroll, but he was passed out. The thief just gazed into the fire, and sat back, crossing her legs and humming a tune, enjoying the peace and quiet. 

She heard someone walking around, she didn’t care enough to look up and see who it was. She failed to see Micah come around the side of the house, coming closer to the fire before redirecting to sit at the main table. Micah gave up on chasing his thief, he knew that she was just playing, there was no harm. For once, he was content to just let her have it. 

Pearson was busy chopping food and preparing dinner. Uncle came stumbling to the fire before plopping himself down in a seat and starting to ramble to nobody in particular. The thief watched Kieran walk around and tend to the horses. 

It was nice to sit and enjoy the peace and quiet for a while. 

As she was watching Kieran brush The Count, she saw her father come riding down the long pathway with John and Charles right behind him. She smiled and waved, but didn’t bother to get up from the log. Micah didn’t look up at all, he was too enraptured by his own thoughts as he watched the knife in his hands slide against a piece of wood. 

“Hey, Pa!” The thief said cheerfully, before greeting his two companions. 

“Get anythin’ good?” Arthur vaguely gestured to Charles as the man held up a string of fish. 

“Got some nice bass, mostly.” Her father responded, distracted from his own tiredness. The trio tied up their horses and walked further down the entry’s path. 

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up to see his only daughter wearing the hat of the man he hated the most. The thief herself had her eyes closing and her head leaning back, enjoying the last licks of sunlight on her face. 

“Darlin’.” He spoke, his voice cold. The thief’s head jumped up and looked at her father, knowing something was wrong just by that tone, but not realising what it was. Before she could even ask what was wrong, he cut her off. 

“Why the hell are you wearing that hat?” John and Charles looked at each other before Charles put the fish down on Pearson’s table, focusing his attention back onto his best friend. 

The thief jumped out of her seat, immediately standing rigid. She looked up and went to step over the log and take the hat off of her head. At that point, Micah’s attention was captured. He stood up and tried to defend himself. 

“Hold on now, Morgan. I didn’t do nothing-” 

“Pa! It’s not what you’re thinking! I was just messin’- I mean- I stole it! He didn’t give it to me, or nothing!” She tried to comfort her father, but his vision turned red. 

“Micah, you sonuvabitch!” Arthur moved so quickly, he grabbed Micah by the collar and swung at his face, clocking him hard on his nose. 

“You bastard! You touch my fuckin’ daughter?!” Arthur screamed in his face. 

“No! Wait- Pa!” The thief tried to reason with her father, but it was no use. Arthur pushed the man away and swung at him again. This time he missed, but Micah retaliated with the knife in his hand, trying to scare Arthur away. Micah kept trying to shout that he didn’t do anything, but everybody’s shouts were lost in the hustle. 

As Arthur and Micah fought, Charles and John jumped forward to try and pull them apart. The thief held onto the hat over her chest and could do nothing but watch. 

Each man got a few good licks in before they were pulled apart. Micah’s bottom lip was busted and bleeding. Arthur had a new cut on his arm from Micah’s knife. 

They kept shouting at each other even as they were separated. 

“You’re so stupid, Morgan! I didn’t do nothing! Your girl stole my hat!” 

“If you ever touch her, I will make sure it’s the last thing you ever do, Micah! Keep your dirty paws away from my daughter!” 

The thief could only stand there in shock, completely frozen at the scene in front of her. This was all her fault. Her father got hurt because of her…. Micah got hurt because of her.  

Charles had his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and steered him away from the area, instead pushing him to the doors of the house. Arthur thrashed out of Charles’ arms, only to grab his daughter. He grabbed her arm and ripped Micah’s hat out of her hands, throwing it to the ground.

John pushed Micah away, toward the side of the house, cursing him off. Micah grumbled and stormed away, cursing off everyone that looked at him. 

“What the hell did you do?!” John’s voice was less cold, like her fathers, and more genuinely concerned.

“You’re lucky I didn’t just kill him!” Arthur struggled to control his volume as he, his daughter and Charles walked up the stairs to the Morgans’ room. 

“I know- I mean, I didn’t mean for this to happen-!” She tried to explain herself before her father cut her off. 

When they got to their room, Arthur pushed his daughter to sit down on his bed. He, and Charles, towered over her. Charles remained silent as his friend scolded her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“Okay. Let me just try to wrap my head around this…” Arthur rubbed his hand over his face, with a hand on his hip. 

“You… you…” Arthur struggled to find the words, not wanting to say something embarrassing or weird about his own daughter.

As much as she wanted to just sit there, her head hanging in embarrassment, she knew she had to explain. 

“I was just bored, Pa…” She started, looking up at her father. 

“I thought it would be funny to steal his hat. We didn’t…… He didn’t do nothing, I promise.” Arthur took a deep breath and looked at his daughter, his only child, his pride and joy. 

“Can you just promise me one thing, darlin’?.... Never go near him again. Keep your distance. Do not involve yourself with Micah. He ain’t a good man, hun…” The thief looked disappointed, yet covered it up by smiling at her father. 

“Of course, I know he’s trouble, Pa…” She stood up and held Arthur’s hands. His voice softened. 

“I’m just worried about you, sweetpea. You know that.” She smiled and hugged her father, acknowledging his anxieties. 

“I know, Pa…. I got to go clean my guns ‘fore our job tomorrow.” She smiled sweetly and said her goodbyes to her father. 

As she was walking down the stairs and out the doors, she heard her father’s voice yell once more. 

“If I ever catch him touchin’ you, I’ll kill him!!” The thief winced at the warning as she snuck out the front doors. 

[orchid-and-bone]

Could I have a John x fem reader where the reader reacts to John winning (but still beat tf up) in a bar fight?

Thanks bestie <3

Eyyy of COURSE you can bestie?! I have been practicing writing John, and I may not be the best, but I think I'm confident in my abilities. I think. But here, have a fun, flirty little brawl with your man~

"Trouble" ||

John Marston x f!Reader

Length: 2.1k

Rating: Mature: Mentions of blood, fighting, language

How John ended up in this situation was honestly beyond him, it was just an innocent outing with you and him running some errands for the ranch, and yet he was getting fist after fist pounded into his face. 

After a long day of working, you could tell he was going stir-crazy. His old life was all about freedom and running around, doing things to bring in money or just getting to do as he pleased, but now? He was on a ranch, pretending to be someone he wasn’t to get by, and his trigger finger was beginning to itch. But to make you happy, to keep your heads low, and to survive, John had to behave and live as his persona for the time being. 

“So, Jim,” you said with a smirk, “maybe we should stop at a saloon since it’s getting dark, we could eat a decent meal, maybe stay in a hotel for the night. I’m tired,” you sighed and leaned your head against the man’s shoulder. 

John matched your sigh and flicked the reigns on the horses as he pulled them to the right, heading into Valentine's territory, which he hadn’t expected to be back here so soon. “I mean, it is a long way back, we could use the rest. And I am starvin’, could use something that isn’t a stew for once.” 

You both pulled the wagon off and made sure the horses were comfortable, hitched to a nearby post, and then John helped you down to the ground and smiled wide with his arm wrapped around your waist. “Well, let’s get inside, maybe we can get a bath before bed, too,” he said softly with a smirk. He pulled you along and walked beside you, looking around the town that felt so different from when he was last here. 

As you both entered the saloon, you definitely could tell that the environment was more lively, but you both tried to keep your wits about you as you ordered some food and sat in the corner, away from the rowdy group of people. The food was delicious and the conversation you shared was pleasant, as usual, but John couldn't shake the feeling that eyes kept falling on you both. He'd look away from you as he stopped mid-sentence to see one of the men staring at the both of you, but he tried to pay no mind, you were taking his attention. 

The food was finished and you both were feeling content, the party of people in the saloon only grew larger in number and louder in volume, so you both figured it was time to head out to the hotel for the evening. John allowed you to walk out first so he could follow behind you, but you had barely gotten several steps toward the door when one of the men stepped in front of your path, blocking you from the exit.

“Hey there now, y'all ain't plannin’ on comin’ over to celebrate with us?” 

“Sorry, friend, but we have other plans to attend to,” John answered firmly. 

The man just scoffed, the reek of booze was strong on his breath, it was a wonder he was still standing. “Aww c'mon, my friend over there is gettin’ married, you could have one drink to congratulate him!”

“Sorry sir, but we don't even know you,” you said sharply, stepping back from him, and bumping into John. You felt a bit more at ease since he was here.

“And? You ain't heard of makin’ friends?” The man chuckled and grabbed your arm, pulling you along toward the table. He then decided to yank your arm and attempt to pull you over toward the table, but John stepped up and grabbed his wrist hard. 

“We ain't interested, sir. My woman and I are heading out for the evenin’, so maybe next time you should use your brain and not touch a lady when she says no.” 

John pushed the man away so you both had room to leave, but some of the drunk’s friends decided to get involved. 

John stepped up protectively, his spine stiffened as his hand hovered over the knife that was holstered, hidden beneath his jacket. “Sir, you got till the count of three to back off and leave us alone,” he warned. 

There had been a taller man who stood up from the table and interjected, pushing his friend gently off to the side. “Are you threatenin’ us?” He snapped. 

“I ‘spose I am,” John retorted, holding his ground as he pushed you further behind him to shield you. 

Another of the man's friends stepped up and tried to land a surprise swing on John, but he pushed you out of the way and took the hook to his shoulder. After that, John was brawling with several of the men who ganged up on you both. The one in the red shirt had tried to grab John to put him in a headlock so his friends could take their turns wailing on him, but your John was fast. He elbowed Red and kicked his leg in, causing the man to fall flat on his face.

That was one down—three more to go.

“I ain’t been in a bar fight in a long time,” John commented as he had both arms up, ready to block any attacks if needed, “but I’d rather continue my night with my lady if you gentlemen don’t mind.”

The three other men all ignored him and each one tried to punch him at different intervals to throw him off, but somehow, John managed to throw one man into the other and watched as the two tumbled straight into a table. The others who occupied the saloon were standing back and vacating the building. The bartender just sighed and walked off, not wanting to be part of yet another brawl. That left you, standing on the stairs away from the tussle. 

The gunslinger looked back and you, making sure you were out of harm's way, then he got back to it. The two men who collided with the table were too drunk to stand, and all they did was stumble over one another. There was one left standing, and he was a little larger than the others. 

“Look, I can just leave, no reason you gotta get involved,” John said nonchalantly, his stance easing up a little.

The man just glared down at him and he scoffed at the offer. “You ruined my engagement celebration, mister, I don’t take so kind to that.”

John just sighed and lifted his hands again, balling them into fists. “Alright then, have it your way,” he replied.

The man took a fast step forward and swung his fist straight at John’s jaw, and if it weren’t for the speed, maybe John would have dodged it, instead, he got nicked against his chin, which still caught him enough to cause some pain. That was all the distraction the man needed to step in and lunge at John, his larger body barreled into him and tackled him to the floor.

You let out a yelp, terrified that the man was going to have a one-up on John, and all you could do was watch in fear as your hands gripped the railing in fear. 

The gunslinger was pinned onto the floor as the man above him threw punch after punch, landing a blow on his cheek, and almost breaking his nose at one point. John held up his arms to block and tried his best to use the strength from his legs to somehow get him to slip off, and he managed to throw the man off of him for a split second. He scrambled to find some balance, then rolled off to the side as the man recovered. 

“Give up yet?” John asked with a smirk on his face as he licked the blood from his split lip, the bruises on his face forming fast.

The man just yelled out in frustration and then John had him in a blind frenzy, which made any man messy in a fight. John ducked from the swing and swung his right arm quickly, the blow landed in the side of the man’s temple, stunning him momentarily. Then it was over, John was finally standing over him and landing punch after punch in the man’s face until he fell unconscious. The gunslinger released the man’s collar, allowing his body to fall slack onto the wooden floor. 

He looked up at you, panting to catch his breath as he straightened his posture. The people who occupied the saloon had all either hidden somewhere or run off, and there were just the two of you left with the pile of unconscious men scattered about on the floor. You waited a moment before hesitantly walking down the stairs to run into his arms, thankful he was alright despite being a little black and blue. 

“As always you’re my hero,” you chuckled and reached up to touch his face, wiping away a smear of blood from his lip. 

“And as always, we’re both gettin’ into trouble,” he replied gruffly.

You just scoffed. “We?” 

“Well yeah, you’re my accomplice, partner in crime, ain’t you?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus you’re the one always gettin’ the attention,” John teased as he slipped his arm through yours. He pulled you along and threw a couple of bills onto the countertop, then escorted you outside and across the muddly way, leading you straight to the hotel. 

You both walked inside, the environment a complete flip from the saloon, and you were more at ease now, and even more thankful when you saw the list of services. The gentleman behind the counter stopped sweeping the floor and greeted you both with a kind smile.

“Howdy, how can I help y’all this evenin’?” He looked between the both of you with concern but didn’t voice them. 

Your eyes looked over at John with a smile and then back at the desk man. “One bath and one room, please.”

The man smiled and got everything situated for you both, you thanked him and paid, then pulled John up the stairs to the bath. He followed obediently and cracked his neck as he ascended the stairs with you, groaning.

“Sleepin’ is gonna be a bitch, I just know it,” he complained.

“Well if you behaved for five minutes you wouldn’t have to worry about it, would you?” You scolded playfully as you looked over your shoulder at him. “He got some good hits in, but not gonna lie, Mister Marston, you looked really good kickin’ his ass.” You flashed him a cheeky smile and continued to lead him to the bath. “You go get cleaned up, I’ll get the room ready.” 

You almost walked away, leaving him in front of the bath door, but his hand grabbed your wrist, and then he pulled you back toward him, falling into him as his arms wrapped around you. “Yeah? You think I looked good, huh?” He asked flirtatiously, pulling you close so his face was mere inches from yours. “Then why do you think you can just leave me here alone?” “John Marston, are you implyin’ I’m gonna join you in your bath?” You gasped, faux shock crossed your features. 

All he could do was smile, the raised edges of the scars across his face made his face look extra handsome, and the dim lighting in the hall only made you admire his face even more. “Nah, I’m declarin’ that you are, unless you don’t wanna?” His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you into the most tender kiss he could manage. 

When he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open and you just stared up at him with a lovestruck smile. “Well, when you put it that way…”

That was all the confirmation he needed, so he opened the door to the readied hot bath, pulling you in after him, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he closed the door behind you both. You sighed as he leaned your hands against his chest, just smiling up at him with that look.

“I know that look, what is it?” 

“Nothin’, you’re just trouble, John Marston,” you said softly, your hand cupped his cheek again, mindful of how gentle you had to be. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that, right?”

The man looked down at you and pulled you into another kiss, pulling away a moment later with that charming smile you were unable to resist, his hand reached up to brush your hair away from your face so he could see the light in those pretty eyes of yours. Just a minor setback to your shared evening, but John always had ways to make it up to you. 

[amrass]

Into the night: a Vandershea HC/drabble

When Dutch seduced Molly, sneaking into her boudoir window at night, he got creeped out by all the dolls on display above her bed.

The room had been unchanged since her girlhood, as the age treated women like children. Giggling, she helped him turn the dolls around, because he hated their staring eyes in particular. 

She understood why he hated them after a couple more nights, sick of turning them back around, symbols of him leaving. Within his gaze, she was a free woman, and within theirs, a foolish girl. But she also hated their hollow gazes because they reminded her of Dutch's when he thought she wasn't looking.

The night he whisked her away, she had plucked the doll eyes out and put them in a small pile on the bed.

"…I suppose I like them a little mad," Dutch whispered to her, grinning and extending his palm from outside the window.

"That's because you're a little mad yourself," Molly whispered back as she took it, guided out and into the night. 

[slicedmayonnaise]

i need to write a detailed essay about how jovier fell apart and the psychology of javier escuella

[sweetiebugwrites]

! Introduction and Rules !

Hello there! Welcome to my page. It’s very nice to meet you, my name is SweetieBug! I wanted to make a nice introduction and have some information about what I write along with a couple guidelines. I.e; rules for me, my page, requests, and fandoms I enjoy. 

~ REQUEST CONTENT RULES ~

I would love for you to request fics, drabbles, imagines, headcannons, anything!

Request what you’d like, however many times you'd like. 

Be as detailed as you want! But be warned, I might take liberties if it's not explicitly stated in the aforementioned!

Please be kind! This is a safe space, no matter who you are.

Any hateful remarks will NOT be appreciated or tolerated.

Comments/ asks / private messages are all highly appreciated means of feedback!! 

Have fun! Have a snack, set the mood, and hang out for a while :) (Or Don’t)

; Non negotiable content ; 

Incest (I do love Game of Thrones, but no thank you)

Homophobia/ Transphobia/ Racism

Sexual Assault

MinorxAdult romance/ Pedophilia

Anything that may make me uncomfortable that I haven’t brought up. Cause this is my page, and not yours.

< What I’d Love to Write for! >

Fluff

Angst

Smut (Though I might not be great at it)

Hurt/Comfort

I have no problem with LGBTQ+ / Polyamory requests!

Platonic or Romantic requests are totally fine

NSFW (18+ characters only)

I’m probably going to primarily write x fem!reader/ x gn!reader  (But I'm open :) )

I can write for  female or male characters

* Fandoms *

Film or Books

Harry Potter

Game Of Thrones

Marvel (Avengers, x-men, ect)

Supernatural

LOTR/ Hobbit

Star Wars

DC ( Redhood/ Nightwing are some of my favs)

Stranger Things

Fallout ( TV )

I’m a very big Horror/Slasher fan, so if you’re interested…

The Walking Dead

80’s Movies 

VideoGames

Red Dead Redemption 1 or 2

Dead Rising

Resident Evil

Left 4 Dead 1 or 2

Baldur's Gate 3

Fallout NV! , 4

If I didn’t name a fandom that you're interested in, let me know!

Exit Speach <3

Thank you for taking the time to read this! I love and appreciate any time you take to hang out on my page. I can't wait to see where this adventure brings us :) - SweetieBug

[feinv]

can i kindly req for a arthur morgan x hyperfem reader.... pov he is just so so so in live with her...

arthur morgan x hyperfem!reader.

a/n. introducing my other hyperfixation on this blog. hope this won’t flop. if you don’t wanna see this you can block these tags! hope you like this dolly <3

arthur morgan is a romantic.

spending the majority of his life being without a significant other, he kept repressing all those emotions. and repressing just made them stronger.

but lucky for him he has you!

he doesn’t understand why a sweet thing like you would even look at his direction. but you did. and he wasn’t a fool to let you go after that. he absolutely gives you princess treatment. will do like. literally anything just to see you smile.

arthur loves taking you to beautiful places he encountered while riding around. seeing your eyes sparkle and that pretty smile you flush him is enough for him to die a happy man right there next to you.

he is absolutely feral at how adorable you look. like all the time. we all know 1800s underwears were like just a plain white fabric. but you still managed to stitch them up in a certain way and add a few small bows to make them look cuter! he is honestly so amazed that nothing ever stops you from doing your girly things, and he is always there to tell you that you did a good job and it looks perfect <3

he loves showing you off, especially when he knows he has the pleasure of calling you his. he will do any dirty job and hard labor just to get money and buy you anything you want.

he knows it's hard feeling beautiful when you have limited resources in a camp. so he would buy you whatever clothes you want, whatever jewelry and accessories you look at for more than five seconds when he takes you to a town. (he might even steal some really expensive ones and tell you he traded for those)

of course he would think you look gorgeous even if your entire face was covered in dirt and mud. but it matters to him that you feel happy and confident in yourself. and it's his mission to fulfill that goal for as long as he alive.

every time he would bring back a little something that reminded him of you — a book, a small painting, perfumes that smell just like you, and everything else in between.

he would help you with chores however he can just to ease some of your work and have more alone time together. the boys would tease him for being "a housewife," but he wouldn't give a shit. he might as well do every single of your chores if it meant he would have you all to himself in the confines of his tent.

showers you in compliments. all day 24/7. he knows the words will eventually fail him because he physically cannot tell u how infatuated he is with you and how flawless you are to him. but he will try either way.

“you are so beautiful, darlin'. my pretty girl,” while his fingers gently tuck hair away from your face, his thumb soothing your soft skin. and you would blush and avert his gaze because like :< but he would simply pepper feather light kisses all over your face before connecting your lips in such a tender kiss you would forget that’s a 6 feet tall ripped cowboy.

his side bag and some of his clothes in general would have small hearts or bows engraved in them with pink thread. every time he looks at them he gets reminded there is someone waiting for him to come back. and his heart just swells at that thought.

would also sneak you away from the camp to a pretty field where the two of you could just stargaze together or lay on the grass for hours. you would ramble about your day while he sketches you, your sweet voice literally making him float in the clouds.

arthur morgan loves being around you, being with you. you don't even have to be doing anything together, he just loves having you near him, close and safe :3

©️feinv, 2024.

[nyursi]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘!

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)...  well, the favonius church's choir had a spectacular ensemble. one stood out in particular.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤkaeya alberich.

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, religious themes,  kaeya jacks off to you cause he's horny, drabble.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷��꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

Call it irony or whatever, but the fact that Kaeya still attended church while drunk and out of his mind was pretty funny. Of course, considering that Sister Rosaria was no better than the Cavalry Captain— Kaeya let go of all his guilt and entered the Holy grounds anyway.

Besides, spending an hour in here was all worth it, as Kaeya had his eye on a special someone.

You were close with Barbara, and a few months younger than Jean, so your relationship with the sisters certainly helped you settle in Mondstadt. A long time ago, when you first came to the humble city, Kaeya was oddly pleased to see a feline roaming the streets. Save for Diona, who was too busy handling the Cat's Tail.

And you can call him weird, obsessive, strange. But can you blame him? With your honey-toned voice constantly singing during Mass— who could resist the urge to hear more? Truly, locals adored you. Even if there was a whole ensemble in the stands, it was you who stood out and took the spotlight. Kaeya was no better.

It was just another day for him. Rosaria was his close friend, and since she paid for the booze he drank last time, he owed her. And thus, when she asked to accompany her at the Church, Kaeya begrudgingly complied. Really— he was so ready to take a seat and get some shut eye. They arrived a few minutes earlier, so what harm could be done?

Not 5 minutes passed and he was already awoken. "Uhm, excuse me...?" A soft voice he heard. Gentle shaking on his shoulder. Kaeya hummed, not ready to wake up just yet. Nonetheless, he opened his eye, ready to throw some passsive agressive remark at whoever dared to stop his slumber.

But shit.

"Sir? Mass is starting soon, it would be very disrespectful to sleep through it!" Not a word made it through Kaeya's ears, too busy listening to the angelic melody that suddenly praised him when he looked at you. Clothing that those in the Church wore daily, something so innocent, pure and white, somehow became unholy with the way it clung to your figure. He couldn't help the way his eyes trailed down, down, down, til' they landed on your shorts.

Tight and snug. They barely looked like shorts with how high up they were. But Kaeya wasn't complaining— not at all.

And fuck— was that a thigh belt? Kaeya gulped, seeing the shining vision dangling on your thigh. To keep himself from any more thoughts, he quickly looked up at you.

Ah. You were staring.

Did he look weird? Was it obvious he eyed you like some treat? As if he were a kid, drooling for candy? Or did you find him handsome? Attractive like he did you.

"Ah, my apologies. Thank you for waking me up." He chuckled, scratching his scalp as if he were guilty. You crossed your arms and pouted, lips puckered and Kaeya had an urge to suck on them. "It's alright, but please be more attentive. We're starting soon." You reminded, before turning around, heading to the stands.

And if you felt a burning glare on your behind, Kaeya prayed you believed it to be your imagination.

Safe to say that first interaction guaranteed many more to come. Kaeya was greedy, a selfish man who had not one, but two addictions.

Alcohol was just his mistress.

So he kept coming. Anytime he could, Kaeya attended Mass like he was a Saint. Rosaria called him crazy, but he couldn't deny that claim. He would go mad if there was not a single glimpse he could catch of the cute singer.

He found it funny how something so innocent managed to catch the attention of a dirty man.

One time, you made a particular face when the sun got caught in your eyes. Your eyes squinted, lips pulled in a small frown, and Kaeya imagined that to be the face you made if he ever came on it.

Yeah. He was fucked.

At some point his right hand became sore with his nightly activities, accompanied by the repeating scenarios in his mind that fueled his desire even more. Kaeya couldn't wait any sooner.

He wanted you. He needed you.

Kaeya attended the next days Mass, clean as ever. As if he didn't spend last night fucking his fist to you, until the sun rose. Groaning and wishing that it was you around his cock, not his left hand. (He had to alternate.)

He couldn't handle it. Every time he saw you, thoughts would pop up in his head in the most random places. He walks past you in the streets? All of a sudden he imagines breeding you on the cobble path. A glimpse of your cat ears from afar? He dreams of tugging and biting at them. The worst one that ever happened was at Church.

Kaeya frequented the place so much that you eventually grew a friendship. Greeting him whenever you saw the tall, sunkissed, eye-patch wearing man. One time, while waiting for Mass to start, you actually sat down beside him to talk. He had to fight off a boner.

One of the Deacons dropped the long candle, and you, ever kind and pure, stood up to get it for them. Soon as you bent down, Kaeya shamelessly eyed your butt. He always did that, but what caught his eye were your cute little balls, snug against the thin fabric of your shorts.

Either they were that tight, or you decided to go commando.

Kaeya hoped it to be the latter.

Not only was he blessed with the sight of your buttocks, full and plump, but your round balls too. Kaeya wanted to pinch them. Squeeze, suck, fondle, put them in his mouth— he didn't care. As long as he got to touch your sweet cheeks too.

If holding in a boner while taking to you was hard, this was a lot more extreme. Not to mention your cute tail; that dangled and swayed, urging him to pull on it.

"Oh dear! Sir Kaeya! You're bleeding!" You exclaimed, hurriedly taking out a cloth napkin from your pocket. Wiping at the blood that dribbled down his nose. "Are you alright? Perhaps you should miss out on today. Please get some rest."

He didn't even fight back, too shell-shocked at the fact he got a fucking nosebleed from that. But hey, at least he has your napkin!

And if he returns it to you the next day; sticky, crumpled, and wet? Don't question it.

vanillaclaws 2024. do not repost.

[livrworst]

goated oc work by my bestie skibidi

✦ first time trying to make a preppy post or something but oc work/drabble + general writing practice ermmmm gais… ✦

He knew his father wasn't a genuine or forthright man despite intention, as he disregarded issues, just as he knew his mother wasn't an honorable woman from the first contact of glass to epidermis. Between drunken slur and absence, somehow he didn't see an ending, truthfully: he thought this was the life his soul, if containable, was bound to; and between the split of pine his father wore into arrows and the bottle of alcohol his mother so effortlessly turned into shards, he felt content. And when they crammed their belongings onto the backs of restless horses, he was once again assured of his fate, which belonged not to him. As they advanced into the mountains, where absence felt more prominent and his skin felt less his, he began to see an unnerving ending that overtime turned into endings, which at some point of isolation within himself turned into wishes. As his guilt turned into gratification, his mother's profound anger turned into fear, and it was evident why they had turned to the mountains. He began to notice that his father's disregard was depression caused by knowledge that he had attempted to bury away from him. When a usually forgettable night became memorable and mournful, so did the knowledge that was hidden so deeply from him through the smell of gunfire and loss.

As the sun went down, the raging uncertainty and cold of the mountains rose. He sat as still as he possibly could, attempting to go undetectable to his inebriated mother. The fire sputtering in the center of the room was the only socialization he was promised to receive while his father was on hunting trips, such as now. The uncanny contentment was broken with a clash of fist on the chilled door. He peered to see if his mother was going to answer it, and once he came to the conclusion she wasn't, he adjusted his limbs that awkwardly fit his body and stood, the only sounds in the house and seemingly the entire range of mountains being his mother's ever-heavy breathing, which sounded different than before: it sounded more accepting somehow, and the rattle of the floorboard as he shifted towards the door. As he reached out to grab the doorknob, he felt an understanding between the two and understood that her actions had led here, and this was the ending he had perceived in a million different ways.

He turned the knob open, which was met with a revolver to his abdomen, and for the millionth time he was assured of his fate, which was never his, yet this time he wasn't sorrowful; he was resentful and provoked, and for what he knew was the last time he enjoyed the fearful presence of his mother. He raised his fist and shook with adrenaline that was intertwined with his youth; the youth he knew the man with the revolver understood, and he swung as fast as he could. The creaking of the man's nose brought solace to the fist that was now at his side. Before he could swing again, the man grabbed his arm, and as he has many times before, he braced for impact, yet it didn't come; the man simply held him there as if he had felt sympathy for him. He heard yelling, high-pitched and regretful, that clashed with the yelling from the man in front of him, and before he could register anything, he was thrown onto the cold, rigid floorboard where he once sat.

This time he did not attempt to get up; he sat there immobilized as the prey his father hunted so attentively. For the first time, he did not crave that attention because, for once, he understood spiritually how it felt. As actuality faded back into his aching body, he recognized his mother, and then, at the click of the revolver that had once been pressed against his own abdomen, he didn't. somehow, in some way, the being he could no longer consider a man standing near the fire looked sorrowful for him. Intuitively, he didn't move. He stared at his mother, unmoving, and shattered until he once again heard the turning of the door knob and the vexing silence of the house rattle through his mother's empty lungs.

[messrmoonyy]

All my works set in the RDR2 universe in one place.

Request are currently open for hcs, drabbles and OS

Mainly looking to write one shots for Arthur and Sadie rn but will write shorter things ( drabbles and hcs ) for some other characters just ask ☺️

☆ - smut ♡ - fluff ☾- angst

Also check my photomode captures for rdr here

The Gilded Cage ☆

Dutch believes bringing some of the girls along to the mayors party will make them seem more agreeable. Arthur brings you along, but gets a little jealous at the attention you receive.

The forbidden fruit ☆ ♡

After Dutch’s affections for you start to simmer down, you seek solace in the arms of Arthur Morgan

Give me my sin again ☆ ♡

Arthur keeps you secret in some hopes of keeping you safe. But it does means weeks pass before he sees you again

Low honour vs high honour nsfw hcs ☆ ♡

Colter Drabble

Drabbles: one / two / three / four /

Sadie as your gf hcs ( sfw/nsfw )

Drabbles: one / two / three

What they’re like as your gf/bf (nsfw/sfw)

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Sadie Adler, Molly O’Shea