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I love arthur, and I love boobs, so naturally,

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What a rude Drunk. Seems like Arthur is a constant cockblock for Javier.

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They are so cuuuute omg his face 😭😭

what if we pretend tb doesnt even exist

comms open !!

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husband.

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People who use ChatGPT to write their fics will never truly know what it means to yearn

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Arthur Morgan Looking Cute As Hell 62/??

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RED DEAD REDEMPTION II ᨖ

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All of you anons who requested more modern Arthur during my mini-prompt sprint and after I closed it... 👀 I see you and love you extra special 🫶 I am SO pleased to see other people into it and asking for more 😤

You'll definitely be served with the second wave coming this weekend 🤭😏

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Eeeeeh Evie those were so sweet!!! It comforted me in ways I didn't know about 🥹 HE EVEN SINGS TO HER AAAH. I always love the way you write his dialogue lines. This is so him. I can literally hear him say all this when I read you, and I'm so admirative of that!! Masterful.

The “You musta caught the stubborn flu, th’way you’re actin’.” made me giggle, I loved it 😂 and the way he would just shove the spoon in her mouth he she refused to take any medicine, very much him indeed! You really nailed it, the whole "weet but unyielding nurse" thing just suits him so well!

You did very well with those sweet headcanons, dear Evie 💓

Can I please request a headcanon thingie of Arthur Morgan x Sick!Reader? Modern AU or canon time, any level of honor, idc, i have just come down with an awful cold with fever, ear pain, heartburn and so on, and could use some cheering up:(( i just know this man could cure me by stroking my hair... do you think he would? Tysm<3<3

Author’s Note: This is sort of a mix of a drabble that turns into headcanons, I hope you enjoy!! I loved writing these, Arthur is so comforting to write in the first place but having him care for Reader is always a favourite little thing of mine to write <3 I hope you’re feeling better today, my sweet Anon <3

Arthur Morgan x Sick!Female Reader

☆ One morning, you wake with a rasp to your voice. Arthur would have hummed and pulled you closer, telling you how sexy you sounded if it wasn’t for the watery nature of your heavy eyes and the gentle but concerning labour to your breath.

☆ He’s quick to blink away the early morning haze which you usually spend a tad longer than needed swimming within together, beneath cotton blankets and one another’s limbs. He props himself up on his elbow, his brow pinched with concern as his sleep-addled brain catches up.

☆ “I don’t feel too well, Arthur.” You whisper, and wince as a burning pain flows up through your throat and into your eyes and sinuses. You swallow and it sounds thick, strangled.

☆ Arthur sits up further and wraps his arms around your back, pulling you up and gently cradling you, “What are ya feelin’, darlin’? You–” as he speaks, the searing heat of your skin steadily seeps into his hands and chest between which you’re sandwiched, “Jesus, you’re like the damn Sun.”

☆ He rids you of the blanket and in his sweetness, blows gently on your face, pushing your hair back. “M’feelin’ hot, ‘n’ cold. An’ my head hurts, an’ my ears hurt, an’ my throat hurts–” “Okay, darlin’, it’s alright.”

☆ Clumsy and groggy, he drags himself from the cot, a gentle coo leaving him when he hears you make a tired, wheezy sound in response to the shifting. “Arthur, where’re ya goin’?” He shushes you and kisses your sheeny forehead before he begins pulling on his clothes, “T’warm you some rum. N’then get you some supplies from town.”

☆ Once he’s dressed, he can’t resist a few more touches and kisses. He wraps one arm under your waist, his other hand cupping the base of your skull as he plants a tender kiss to your forehead and brushes his nose against yours. You give a sleepy, weak smile, your usually flushed lips now so pale and dry. Arthur shifts you in the cot, helping you get comfortable, “Now, you ain’t movin’ from here until I say. We can take a walk later on, okay?”

☆ He fetches you a tin mug of warmed rum and sits on the edge of the bed, lifting your head and carefully pours some into your mouth. You swallow and grimace, which warms Arthur’s worried features with the softest and fondest of looks. “There’s a girl, take some more. S’good for ya.”

☆ Despite his slight neuroticism when it comes to taking care of you, the worry that scribbles about the lining of his stomach, the need to get you better, Arthur is one of the best people to have around when you’re sick.

☆ He will only leave your side if it’s to get you something that will help you, like leaving for town to get you supplies such as cough drops, syrups, blankets, mustard packs, the works. If you’re really sick, he’ll politely but firmly order someone to make the visit for him.

☆ He’s a sweet but unyielding nurse. If you grouse about taking medicine, he will not hesitate to just shove the spoon into your mouth and clamp your mouth shut until you swallow, giving you silly kisses about your face and making playful “Nu-uh” “M-mm” sounds of reprimand with an impish glint in his eyes.

☆ Or if it’s about leaving the tent for a little fresh air, he’ll scoop you up and walk you to the edge of camp. He’ll sit himself down, letting you nestle in his lap swaddled in a blanket, “You musta caught the stubborn flu, th’way you’re actin’.” He’ll lean his cheek against your shoulder, tracing your poorly features with his concerned but fond gaze.

☆ He’s always tender with you, and it increases tenfold when you’re not well. He’ll help you change clothes, planting soft kisses on your shoulders and knees as he dresses or undresses you. “My sweet girl, take it easy.” “Lift your arms for me, sweetheart.” “That’s my girl. I know, I know, you’re feelin’ outta sorts. I’m here.”

☆ When your head starts to pound, he’ll cup the back of your head with one hand and hold the back of your neck with the other. He’ll kiss your forehead and very tenderly massage your scalp, “I see you frownin’. C’mon–” He’ll whisper, rubbing small, slow circles into your skin, urging you to let your head rest heavy in his palms, “That’s it, that helpin’?” When your lashes flutter and a weak affirmative sound slips from you, he continues for a long while, and will continue if you don’t ask him to stop.

☆ He’ll be the first at the stewpot, grabbing you a large bowl, whether you finish it or not– he just wants you to have enough. He’ll even prop you up on pillows and feed you bit by bit if you’re too unwell to feed yourself. “Can’t have my girl spillin’ stew over herself. Sit up for me darlin’.”

☆ He won’t care if he catches whatever you’re sick with, as long as you’re being cared for, nothing else matters. He’ll cuddle you as though you’re not damp with sweat. He’ll kiss you as though you’re not congested and have a good chance of coughing or sneezing into his face– he just laughs and wipes your face. If you’re very adamant about him not getting sick, he’ll at least kiss the pads of his fingers and press them to your skin, against whichever part of you he wants to love in that moment (usually quite a few places, until you’re giggling and coughing).

☆ He’ll spend so much time just laying with you, cradling you against him, talking about whatever comes into his head. He keeps his tone low and soothing, knowing full well that it helps you fall asleep and after all, sleep is the best medicine. “Did I tell you ‘bout that dog I saw yesterday? Little scrawny coppery-coloured thing, he was. Followed me ‘cause I’d been huntin’ an’ he could smell the blood… Come t’think of it, he reminded me of our Sean.”

☆ Sometimes he’ll quietly sing to you, some old camp songs, vague remnants of a song he remembers his mother singing, even humming pieces of songs he’s heard you sing while you work. Songs that he’s grown to love, songs that he has made an effort to sit and listen to, to learn from you, for you.

☆ Even when you’re pretty much better, he’ll make you take “jus’ one more day, darlin’.” To really make sure that you’re well. You’ll notice him checking you over, your complexion, listening to your breath, pressing his palms to your neck and chest and forehead, feeling your temperature. You’re not better until he deems you better in his mind.

Tags for my sweethearts: @thundermartini @zae-heeyyy @pinescent-and-gingerbread @frillydolle @arthurmorganist @thesweetestapplepie @thoughts-of-bear @kayyqua @thedilfdiaries - Apologies if I miss anyone, just dm me or comment below to have me tag/remove you <3

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HOW DID I MISSED THIS

back study but make it arthur

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making emotional art as an autistic person is really fucking hard.

anyways

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Grinding through clothes and having to be quiet with Arthur for your little writing sprint? 🤲 (gn?)

OOOOhh yes anon, I have such a kink for this and I will definitely do it justice! Got a little carried away!

(I'm going to publish a few last mini prompts answer this weekend!! Don't worry if your ask isn't answered yet, it's coming soon! 🫶🏼)

The way Arthur handles you tonight is almost too much for you.

Just at the edge of camp, while everyone was busy celebrating Jack's reunion with the gang, Arthur had been quick to steal you away from the festivities and pin you against one of Shady Belle's old walls, barely hidden from everyone. The way he holds you up against it is almost ridiculously easy for him, as if lifting up a bunch of feathers; his hips settled between your legs, arms strongly holding them up and open, you're trapped between this eager furnace of a man and the coldness of the shabby wood against your back.

"H-how many did you had, Arthur?"

"Not that much... Just enough to give me the balls to man up and have my way with ya." He smiles at himself, pathetic bastard. "Not enough to make me forget about all this tomorrow morning, though..." He assures, voice a rough whisper, his lips crashing against yours in a deep and direct kiss, humming when he feels their soft plumpness.

He can't help it, you're just so pretty, so perfect, and tonight, after feeling the sting of saving the son of someone else to reunite a family that wasn't his, to be forced to only observe the love and fulfillment only a blood link could bring, never able to feel it anymore, he couldn't hold himself; craving. Craving for some kind of attention, any kind, from you.

He's already hard in his jeans, he has been for a long moment to be honest, since he saw that grin of yours he loved so dear, since you had whispered those filthy, teasing things into his ears right by the campfire, knowing damn well what you were doing. You should have seen it coming. His hips starts to press against your core, and with your thighs open and your dress pulled up, you can feel the hard line of his shaft grind aaall against your pussy in a long, deliberate movement.

"Oh!" You can't help but moan at it, your hands locking on his shoulders, trying to hold on to something, anything, to keep yourself grounded on Earth.

"Tut-tut, girl, you gotta keep quiet," He reminds you, a smug smirk on his lips, so fucking pleased with himself. He instantly rocks hismelf against you again, his clothed cock rubbing right where you need it against your pulsing clit, the tightness of his jeans emphasizing the hardness and pression of it against the fabric of your undergarments.

You can't stop yourself. You try to muffle it, but another sigh of pleasure is quickly turning into a whine, and he grunts, more quietly than you, barely a pleased exhale.

"What did I jus' say, hm? You want one of these fools come walkin' on us, uh? S'at what you want?"

"It's not that easy!" You protest, voice low but indignated. Wanting to prove your point, you suddenly aim for his neck, lips attacking his flesh, tongue and mouth suckling at his scarred skin, and this time, you're the one grinding your wet core against him.

And feeling you doing it to him, oh Lord, it's a whole other thing. Arthur is losing all sense of decency. He moans like he's been hit by a bullet, sinful hands sliding to your ass, grabbing each cheek with one hand, pressing you even more against him, encouraging your movement.

"S-see? Who's making noise, now?" You tease him with a triumphant smile, still whispering.

"Shut up," He growls, unable to resist anything anymore and hating himself for being that weak. He looks at you, angry stare mixed with so much desperation and lust that the whole world's limits are blurred. Without any more warning, he bends his head to yours and searches for another kiss, tongue sliding against yours, both of your tastes blending, the borders between you and him collapsing even further.

Accompanying the kiss, your body naturally rubs against his in a sensual, demanding move, and he responds instantly. It's a long moment of your two sexs grinding against the other, muffled moans mixed with a few loud pants and groans, Arthur wincing at the pain the frabic is causing him on his cockhead but not stopping for the wolrd, you moaning more and more as his large cock presses and grinds and rubs hardly against your clit. It's almost a competition now, seeing who would pull out the biggest sound from the other.

"Oh, for God's sake, Arthur you have an actual room for this now! Use the damn thing, goddamn it!" Hosea's paternal voice cuts through the air and stops your unholy throes of passion.

The outlaw in question grumbles as all answer, slipping his arms under your legs and lifting you up from the wall in a quick jump, marching as fast as he can inside the sheltering mansion.

There, at least, he would be able to take all the time he needs to treat you like you deserved, and make you pay for those cheeky moves of yours.

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i LOOOVE LOVEEE "FANTASIES IN THE DARK"!!! incredible writing. he's so sexy. one of the best RDR2 fic i've read. can't wait for chapter 4 BUT!! i'm NOT saying this to rush you or anything! just that it's so great. please do take your time and update it whenever!! i will always wait for you!

OMG ANON!!!

He's so sexy??? One of the best rdr2 fics you've read??? That's so kind omg, my heart is bursting rn!!!

You really can't imagine how happy your words are making me anon. Most of the time I feel self-conscious about my work; this is helping me in ways you wouldn't suspect. Thank you so much for making my day brighter 🥰

I never expected the first part of Fantasies to blow up like it did, and now it has turned into a whole series. I'm so grateful for that! I know chap3 left you guys wanting more, I really hope you'll like the final part! You're really kind to say not to put pressure on myself 🫶 Even if it's a difficult aspect of me I'm trying to work on, I'll try!! And it feels great to hear someone say that!!

Take care of yourself!

-Pine 🌱

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I'm going to close the mini prompt sprint for today!! (Already late in France). Thank you so much for participating!! It was so so fun to write, I'll definitely do another one soon!

I still have a lot of asks to write, I'll be answering through the week so don't worry about it!!

Thank you all once again, it was lovely! 💞

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Hi Pine!! shamelessly requesting Arthur Morgan x female reader... Reader patching up Arthur after a fistfight in Valentine? She's chiding him but also her heart is fluttering and she's blushing because her big man protected her

Thank you lovely!!!!!!!!!!

Heeey Cassie!! Thank you so much for your ask, I love it! Felt like it has been done a lot already, so I never dared do my own version, so thank you once again for giving me an excuse to write it eheh! (Also this is pretty funny because it could be a sequel to this mini prompt!)

"Just, stay seated, for God's sake!"

Arthur grumbles, not hiding his discontentment for a bit. It had been a struggle to drag him and make him sit on a box behind the supplies' wagon.

"Look at you..." You sigh, tilting his head up with your index finger under his scared chin. Arthur looks at you with two puppy eyes, their blue color so bright, even more vibrant than usual, compared to the black of the bruises dappling his skin. Even like that, he was so beautiful, in his rugged kind of way. This man could have been a painting; you were just sorry that it would be a violent one.

"Always been ugly darlin', a few scratches ain't changing much..."

"Hush now. You're not getting up from that box until I take care of you, Mr Morgan." Your tone is firm and soft at the same time, and he knows you're right. There's just something in his guts that tells him it's not right. That he doesn't need any of that, that you shouldn't waste your time on him. He doesn't deserve it.

He concedes and nods without another word. Finally. You grab the medical supplies and start working, focused. You clean his cuts, and you notice how he stiffens at the pain when the alcohol reaches his flesh. You gently apply ointment to his bruises, trying to be as delicate as possible. He doesn't complain anymore.

You try not to look too flustered when he undoes a few buttons from his shirt, pulling his it down to grant you access to a big cut he had right between his neck and shoulder.

"It's going to sting." You warn him, and he nods again, knowing already how it feels to get patched up after a lifetime of fights turned bad. He only grunts when the needle pierces through his skin for the first time.

"That one was a really close one. Do you ever think, Arthur?" You scold, realising just how deep he was willing to go to defend you.

"Not that close." He mutters, his eyes looking away from you as he tries not to look at your chest bent over to him as you're patching him up. The way you were so close, he could even smell your heady scent, his heart beating faster at this sudden proximity. "Would do it all over, if I had to."

You feel your cheeks heat against your will. Fuck, blushing isn't going to help your credibility reprimand this six foot tall beast of a man. There are a few moments of silence as you finish with a small knot, and you catch his cerulean gaze, fingers lingering on his skin more than necessary.

Through those eyes, you know the man before you could handle a hundred more wounds like those, just for you to be safe and sound, and this vertiginous idea never leaves you as you cross all limits and gently press a kiss on the side of his face, scratchy stubble tickling your lips. It was the least you could do in return, after all.

You don't see it, but your blush spreads and leaks onto his own cheeks, a timid and juvenile flame igniting two souls and consuming them silently.

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Hello Pine 🤗 I hope you're well, mutu baguette 🥖

Can you write something about Arthur taking care of the reader who is sick? 🥺 I need to read something sweet 🤍

Passe une belle journée ensoleillée ☀️

Eeeeh Cassie! I'm super super happy to answer your request, ma petite mutu baguette!! 🥖🥐 So so cute prompt, I want all comfort and coziness with it!!

"Hey hey hey, take it easy, sweetheart."

Arthur's voice envelops you like a warm blanket on the coldest of days. Just like his arms, as he steadily holds you up from your sitting position near the campfire. You had been sick since the morning, and tonight, the fever just feels worse than ever. He notices it, your labored breathing, your body abnormally hot, the few pearls of sweat on your forehead. He hates seeing you in that state; if only he could take your pain and throw it away.

"Come on, I'll just carry you to bed." He decides, not wanting you to even walk to your shared tent. Very gently, knowing a movement too brutal would make your headache worse, he slips an arm under your knees, the other holding you behind your back and shoulders in an unyielding embrace. He carries you bridal style without stopping, directly to your cot.

You're soon enough under two blankets, and a worried Arthur is sitting by your side, carefully wetting a fabric to put it on your pained forehead, the coolness relieving some of your ache.

"You have to eat, sweetheart." He states, remembering your two refusals at breakfast then midday about having a proper meal. You try to get on your elbows, but one of his strong hands gently pushes you back against the mattress. "Shh, now now, I'll help ya, you stay right where you are. Would ya like some soup? Mmh? And a cup of tea, maybe?"

You nod with a relieved smile, snuggling under the blankets. Just a moment later, he's back with everything, the soup, the tea, even a little piece of that chocolate he knows you're so fond of, and he had kept for himself initially.

He spoon-fed you with the patience of a Saint, gave you your tea and some medicine, which made you grumble, then the chocolate, he knew would make you smile a bit. Long after the night has settled, Arthur watches still over you, not once leaving his chair, calloused but caring hand on your head, caressing your hair in a gesture he wishes would soothe you.

His darling girl.

Your fevered night isn't a good memory when you wake up the next morning, but with time, you'll remember Arthur's kisses on your skin and whispered praises of comfort better than the pain.