#jack marston x you

[hihomeghere]

Little Things | Arthur Morgan / F!Reader

Word Count : 2k Warnings/tags : Slight somnophilia (reader wakes up), dubious consent, reader gave consent at an earlier time, unprotected piv, cursing, creampie, undressing Summary : Arthur returns from a successful job, and wants nothing more than to bury himself in you

Arthur couldn’t help but enjoy the little things in life. With the life he had, he didn’t have much to enjoy. Coyotes yipping across the plains, Violet snowdrop growing along the side of the trail. The serenity of an early morning sunrise, when the golden rays peak above the horizon, slowly catching everything aflame with its bright light.

On the other side of the coin, he was equally taken by the gentleness of the night sky. Stars speckled across the black expanse like they were left by a flicked paintbrush.

Riding home had also become one of his most treasured times. The anticipation of seeing you again, after being on a job for who knows how long. It didn’t matter if it was only a couple hours or a couple days. The thought of returning to you always sent a pleasurable tingle up his spine, and butterflies fluttering in his gut. Maybe it was because he knew how much you enjoyed the little things as well. How you’d greet him once he returned to whatever camp they currently resided in. Open armed and more likely than not, spread legs. To say it was always a warm welcome would not be doing you any justice.

You were so eager, pliant as he towered over you. Your hands, so soft and gentle as they removed his hat. Then moving to his suspenders, sliding them off his shoulders. His shirt was next, pushing the buttons through the eyelets, before it too was pulled off his body. The gun belt followed, set carefully off to the side, he worked on slipping out of his boots as you did this. The way you two moved together was like a well oiled machine. There was no need for words between the two of you. You knew each other so intimately, inside and out. But working together for years will do that, even if you had mainly given up on pulling heists. You were more than content to stay near camp, or whatever town was closest.

Although Arthur had to admit he missed when it would just be the two of you on a job. The thrill of a job well done flowing through your veins, sleeping naked under the stars, not having to worry about staying quiet.

But he didn’t blame you for not wanting that part of the life anymore. After a too close call which had left you nearly bleeding out as he rode as fast as he could back to camp, you had all but retired. Dutch would never have allowed a full retirement.

Arthur could see the line of trees leading to Shady Bell, that familiar tug in his stomach as he spurred his horse forward. If he had any dignity left he would have felt like a fool with how big of a smile split his face as he hitched his mare. Slipping her a sugar cube for a job well done before heading towards the house.

The fire was slowly dying, hot embers sizzling out. The only other noise was the snores of the other gang members. He made his way into the house, slowly shutting the door behind him. He tried his hardest to creep quickly and quietly up the stairs to your shared room. The door hinge whined as he pushed it open, wincing slightly as he shut it behind him.

There you were. Laid out in the bed, fast asleep. Your hair spread out against the pillow like a halo. Your chemise riding up your thigh, showing off a delicious amount of skin.

By now, Arthur was painfully hard, palming himself through his pants as he stepped closer. He toed off his boots, setting his hat down on a table nearby. He would have much rathered you undressing him, but he would have to settle for doing it himself. He shoved his suspenders off before his gun belt fell to the floor with a thud.

You stirred slightly, your brows pinched in an adorable expression. Obviously annoyed by the noise disturbing your peaceful slumber. He felt a twinge of guilt, he shouldn’t disturb you. It wasn’t often that you were actually at peace, only when you were asleep. You had been sleeping deeper ever since the gang settled here. The walls of Shady Bell offered you and its inhabitants more security than the canvas of a tent.

But you were so pretty, so soft and all his. You wanted this, his cock twitched at the memory. You had told him that if he ever returned when you were asleep, to take what he needed. He had never done it yet, something about it made him feel wrong, dirty. He would never do anything to take advantage of your trust or to harm you.

Your leg slid up further on the bed. Almost like you were subconsciously spreading your legs for him. His eyes went straight to your core, his knees almost buckling at the sight of your wet cunt. No bloomers. If that wasn’t a silent invitation he didn’t know what was.

He moved quickly, stumbling out of his pants. He was surprised he hadn’t ripped the buttons off his shirt with how hard he had janked them through the eyelets.

He was painfully hard, standing over you with his cock in his hand, red and leaking precum. You let out a soft sigh, your lips parting slightly. Any resolve that he had been holding onto was long gone. He knelt down on the bed, crawling towards you. His calloused hands moving up your calf and thigh, lifting the bottom of your chemise over your stomach. He slid his hands back down your belly to your core, running his finger through your folds before settling on your clit. He didn’t necessarily want to wake you, and if he did, he wanted you to awake to pure pleasure. He gave the slightest bit of pressure with his thumb, gently circling it. A small huff leaving your lips. His eyes flicked from your face to your pussy, unable to decide which one he wanted to watch more. He slipped one finger inside your heat, his lips quirked up as he watched your brows pinch together. He curled his index finger, rubbing up against your walls. A small moan left your lips, his cock twitched against his belly. He let out a small groan pressing his hips down onto the sheets, looking for any source of stimulation he could find. Not wanting to touch himself just yet, wanting to drag out your and his pleasure as long as possible.

He added another finger, licking his lips as he inched closer to you. If only he could move you to your back and bury his face into your cunt. But right now he needed you. He started to scissor his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched out enough for him. Although with how wet you were and the soft sounds of pleasure leaving your lips, he was sure you were ready.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, smirking as you frowned, moving your hips up to try and follow his hand. “Give me a second darlin’.” He whispered, coating his dick with your slick. Pumping himself a couple times before spreading your legs a bit wider so he could fit between your legs. He bit his lip as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance, trying to stifle the groan working through his chest. Slowly he pushed in, your wet warm heat enveloping him.

Arthur was sure this was the closest to the pearly gates he’d ever get. His eyes squeezed tight as it took him everything not to blow his load right then and there.

“Arthur?” You gasped, a soft noise that had him squeezing your hips with a vice like grip.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He said, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned over you. Sheathing himself inside you completely, his pelvis pressed against your ass.

“Arthur.” You preened, pushing back against him.

“Missed ya, girl.” He huffed, withdrawing his cock before thrusting back inside you. You let out a cry as his cock pressed up against that delicious spot.

“Ah-“ Arthur reached forward, covering your mouth with his hand to quiet your moan.

“Hush,” He groaned, leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck. You were trembling under him. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he snapped his hips into yours. “Can ya be a good girl and stay quiet?”

You nodded, whimpering against his palm. The smell of gunpowder and leather filling your senses, only heightening your pleasure. You bit your lip as he moved his hand lower, gently applying pressure to your neck. You whimpered as your body buzzed with pleasure, his cock rubbing up against your silken walls.

“Yeah, my good girl.” You could practically feel the way his chest puffed up with pride. You were dangerously close to the edge.

“I’m gonna-“ You whined, fisting the sheets beneath you.

“Gonna cum?” He smirked, his hot breath fanning against your shoulder. “Go ahead darlin’.”

Stars danced behind your eyes as you gushed around his cock. Your whole body trembling as your orgasm washed over you in waves. “F-fuck!” You hissed, biting down on your lip as you tried to keep quiet.

Arthur’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle as he looked down at you. Before it was replaced with a groan as you clenched down on him.

“Shit- I ain’t,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “ain’t gonna last long if ya keep squeezin’ me like that.” His breath fanning across your cheek. You mewled pathetically, unable to stop the whine that left your lips.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you up onto your knees. You gasped at the sudden change in position. Your breath being thrusted out of your lungs as he pounded into you. The rickety bed frame whining under the movement of your two bodies. His large hands dug into your hips, bruises would no doubt be forming in their place by tomorrow morning.

“Take it-“ He huffed, sweat dotting his brow as he bit down on his lip. “That’s right- fucking take it.” He laid his hand between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress. He can feel your pussy fluttering around him, making him groan again. “Yeah, ya close girl?”

“Uh huh!” Your cry muffled by the blankets.

“Go on- go on and soak my cock.” He pants, his hips stuttering as he nears his own release, “Ya go and I’m goin’ with ya.” He warns, slamming his hips into yours over and over.

You fall over the edge, not worried about staying quiet anymore. Tears blur your vision as you tremble under him. Your whole body went limp as you clenched down around him.

His head fell forward, pressing his forehead against your back as his hips stuttered. Rocking into you one, two, three more times before he’s gone. Groaning out your name as his cock pulses inside you, his hips giving tiny jerks as he empties into you.

You let out a soft sigh, turning your head to look up at him. Pride swelling in your chest as you take in his disheveled appearance. His honey brown hair, like a curtain in front of his eyes. He shudders as he withdraws his hips, his release slowly dripping out of your puffy cunt.

You roll over onto your back, reaching up to brush his hair back. He takes in a deep breath, lazily smiling down at you.

“Job go well?” You asked softly, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Very well.” He chuckles laying down next to you. Wrapping his arm around your waist as he lays his head against your breast. Listening to the rapid beat of your heart.

“Good.” You smiled, running your fingers through his locks, “Good night honey.” You said kissing the top of his head before closing your eyes.

“Night darlin’.” He said softly, the sound of your thumping heart the perfect lullaby.

[charlioak]

don't cry darlin

[evercornelias]

abigail when asked why she took john back after he left her alone with their infant son for an entire year:

[sleepyelliee]

Hello I was wondering if you would still take requests currently? I love ur jack fics so much!!

hiiii, thank you and yes I do take requests <3

[sweetjuniperandboiledsatan]

Chapter 25: Babysitting

Full story here: Not a Doctor, Not an Angel Either

Rating: M Pairing: John Marston x F!Reader; Javier Escuella x F!Reader Word count: 32,608 Chapters: 25/41 Warnings: Sexual content, mention of alcohol and cigarettes

You woke up a little later than usual, realising you only managed a few hours of sleep. You groggily turned to your side to see if John was there. He wasn't. You held still a little longer, listening, the sound of spoons clanking against bowls and Grimshaw's morning sermons could be heard from the inside of your tent.

If it were only up to you, you would've preferred to stay in bed and feel miserable about your encounter with Abigail last night, but alas, you knew that was too much to ask. Besides, your stomach was already growling, desperately begging you to find something, anything to eat. You begrudgingly got up and thought if you hurried, you might still get to have some of whatever Pearson was serving for breakfast nowadays.

"Hey, you headin' out?" John approached you later that morning as you were saddling up your horse.

"Yes, I need to get more supplies." You looked over your shoulder as you were accustomed to doing whenever you and John had the slightest interaction in broad daylight.

"What do you need supplies for?" he continued, noting the hesitation on your face.

"Medical supplies. We're running low, so I need to head to Rhodes to restock."

He placed his hand on yours affectionately as if trying to divert you from your errands before saying, "How about I go get your supplies, and you do a little something for me?"

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at his request, uncertain where this was going. You knew better than to ask what he had in mind, but you asked anyway.

"Babysit Jack!? Are you out of your mind? No!" You exclaimed, brushing John's hand off yours. He was quick to catch your hand and held it for as long as he could as pleaded with you.

"Come on, [Y/N]."

"How about Mary-Beth, or… or Tilly? Where's Abigail anyway?" Getting increasingly annoyed at the thought of his request and his insistence on the matter.

"They headed out to St. Denis earlier, look at some dresses or something, whatever it is you ladies do." He swatted his other hand dismissively to make a gesture.

'And no one cared to invite you.' you reminded yourself bitterly.

"Well… I ain't good with kids, John!"

"Do I look like I'm good with kids?" He said flatly, and then his expression softened. He looked down, taking a deep breath, before revealing his true intentions to you. "Look, the only reason am asking is I was kinda hoping you'd spend some time with the kid."

"You are very special to me, [Y/N]," He looked at you, searching for your eyes. A mixture of vulnerability and sincerity painted across his scarred face, "and I just wanted for you two to get along, y'know."

"And Abigail approved this?" You looked at him in slight disbelief.

"Uh, I mentioned it to her, so uh, she knows." He scratched his head anxiously.

*

"I ain't letting that tramp anywhere near Jack!" Abigail was fuming.

"You're one to talk!" John shouted. Abigail's face contorted in anger; her jaw clenched tightly.

Their argument had escalated earlier that morning when John proposed that you babysit Jack for the day, and Abigail was having none of it. Her disdain for you had been palpable from the moment you and John started seeing each other, a fact that she had her suspicions on for a while and which she recently confirmed when she confronted you last night. The mere suggestion of you spending time with Jack had pushed her to the brink of fury.

"Hey, if you're okay with either Micah or that O'Driscoll boy watching your kid, that's fine by me too." He shrugged his shoulders, not giving Abigail much choice here.

"Oh, the hell with you, John!"

*

You groaned inwardly. This was the very last thing you had expected your day to turn out. Why would John put you in such an awkward situation with Jack?

You spotted Jack by himself. He was crouched on the ground with a stick in his hand, most likely drawing as you'd seen him do numerous times. You looked around before approaching the kid and realised the gang members had gone out, except maybe for a few – Uncle was dozing off as usual, and Kieran was tending to the horses. You could hear Micah humming contentedly as he worked his knife back and forth over a piece of wood, honing it to a fine point. There was something about being left there with Micah. That man's presence had always unnerved you.

"Hey, Jack," you greeted, trying to sound as friendly and warm as possible.

"Hi," he replied meekly, his eyes darting away from you.

You took a few steps closer, hoping to engage him in conversation. "Whatcha drawing there?"

He mumbled something you couldn't really understand, continuing to trace figures on the ground.

You watched him for a moment before speaking again. "So, uh, John asked me to spend some time with you today."

Jack looked up at you, his expression unreadable. "Okay."

Uncertain of what to do next, you took your spot next to him and spent the next few minutes with him in silence. 'What the hell are you doing, [Y/N]?' You asked yourself.

"Do you like drawing, Jack?" you asked again, attempting to break the ice between the two of you.

"I guess." He gave a half-hearted nod.

Jack's eyes followed you as you disappeared and came back a few minutes later with some pieces of paper and pencils you had lying around. You beckoned him to sit with you at the table, and he hesitantly followed. The two of you sat together by the round table, ignoring Micah, who was seated opposite you. The older man carefully observed the two of you as he continued to hum and play with his knife.

"Uh, let's try drawing something simple, maybe a tree," you suggested, picking up a pencil and paper. Jack hesitated for a moment before nodding and taking the pencil from you.

"Hey, that's not bad." You encouraged the little kid. He seemed to start enjoying himself. 'Okay, at least we're getting somewhere.'

You started doodling away as you continued watching Jack make progress. You couldn't help but feel distracted by Micah's constant humming. It was a soft, tuneless sound, but it grated on your nerves like sandpaper. You glanced over at him and saw that he had his eyes fixed on you while whittling away at the same piece of wood he had earlier. He cocked his head slightly, his lips still moving soundlessly as he studied you. You felt a shiver run down your spine and quickly averted your eyes, returning your attention to Jack.

"I see you're still chasing after John, even though he's got a kid. I guess you like playing mommy to someone else's brat." Micah said out of nowhere, a sly smirk on his face.

Micah leaned in your direction, a devious grin on his face. "You know, [Y/N], I can't help but notice how damn fine you're looking today," he said, his eyes lingering on your figure. "Maybe if you weren't so busy playing mommy with John's kid, we could have some real fun together."

Disgusted at Micah's obscene advances, you stood up without a second thought, hastily taking Jack along with you. "Come on, Jack, let's go find something else to do." You would have easily told Micah off any day, but not in front of a child - not in front of Jack. You held Jack's hand firmly and led him far away from camp, desperately hoping he didn't get any of that. 

*

You sat on a boulder as you carefully observed Jack, his small frame playing by the shallow waters of the lake. The sound of his feet splashing in the water did help calm your nerves. The kid was in a much better spirit now that he had warmed up to you, seemingly unperturbed and oblivious to your disturbing encounter with Micah earlier. You quite envied his carefree innocence.

You thought about Jack and wondered what his life was like, being brought up by a group of outlaws to a life exposed to criminality and harsh realities; a reluctant father on the one hand, and on the other, a mother who just wanted nothing else but the best for him. You pondered about what the future held for him – will he grow up just like John? Dutch? Hosea? Will he ever be able to get out of this life and experience a normal life for once, take on an honest and decent living, and maybe find himself a good wife?

You thought about Abigail, who fiercely loved him and would do anything to protect him. Despite everything between the two of you, you couldn't really blame her for her animosity towards him. She had endured so much, this much you know – her past life, and that year John ran away when she had just given birth, and like John, she too was an orphan. Maybe that's why they had easily fallen for each other a long time ago. They have a common ground, a deep and mutual understanding of each other's lives and history, something you, an outsider, could never really truly understand.

"I'm cold." Jack's voice distracted you from your thoughts.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close for warmth. "Let's head back to camp and get you dried off. It's still a bit of a walk, though," you said with a smile.

You started making your way back with Jack in tow. The leaves rustled gently beneath your feet. A light breeze brushed against your skin. It had gotten colder now that the sun was about to set.

Your heart suddenly dropped, and your face grew pale as you noticed three heavily armed men emerge from the foliage surrounding you. You instinctively pulled Jack behind you in your attempt to shield him from any potential harm and danger.

You could hear your heart pounding against your ribcage as the men advanced towards you, their weapons held firmly in their hands. Your muscles tensed up as you prepared for whatever was about to happen next. The burly man in the middle with greying hair and bushy beard, stepped forward, pointing his gun straight at your face.

"We know you stole our horses," he growled menacingly at you. "And now we're taking something of yours." He yanked Jack out of your arms with so much force that he yelped in pain and burst into tears. Before you could even react or do anything, you felt a sharp blow to the back of your head, effectively knocking you out and spiraling into darkness.

You heard the man spoke once more, “This is what you Yankees get for messing with us!” before everything turned dark.

***

[serawritesthings]

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in. 

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man. 

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth. 

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body. 

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger. 

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject. 

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.” 

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll. 

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door. 

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur. 

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose. 

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look. 

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure. 

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach. 

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn. 

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West. 

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours. 

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing. 

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height. 

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much. 

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?” 

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work. 

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words. 

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled. 

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.” 

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving. 

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway. 

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite. 

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby. 

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people. 

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears. 

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable. 

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes. 

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls. 

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-” 

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did. 

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture. 

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes. 

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being. 

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle. 

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him. 

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips. 

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something. 

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground. 

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm. 

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch. 

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.” 

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking. 

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck. 

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own. 

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him. 

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh. 

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night. 

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval. 

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions. 

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.” 

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him. 

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck. 

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else. 

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you. 

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control. 

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements. 

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before. 

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face. 

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly. 

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you. 

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come. 

“Are you jealous of Charles?” 

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled. 

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs. 

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.” 

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him. 

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

[saturnxlust]

Age Gap

Van der linde gang x Fem!Reader

Dutch Van Der Linde

He def goes for younger girls

He looks like the type

You caught his eye with your outfits

Hes 44 but i feel like he wouldnt want a age gap over 10 years

If you got the courage to make the first move he would admire that about you

Definitely sweet talks you about being a smart girl

Lord the amount of praise this son of a bitch would give you could boost even arthur ego

Def a sugar daddy, before the events of black water

After he would try his best but he left most of his money behind in his old house

Arthur Morgan

He isnt that old but he def wouldnt go over 5 years

He finds it odd and repects his women too much

This is the man to go to if you want a sugar daddy

He will gladly spoil you with all the money he loots from dead O’driscols

He also gives out praise but thats just the man he is

If hes not complimenting you and how stunning you are 24/7 he feels like a awful person

He would so totally call you his “sweet baby” or “babydoll”

If you wear pink dresses he’d definitely be wrapped around your little finger

If not and your more of a streatwear person he’d loose his mind at low rise or cami tops

Again you’d have him wrapped around your finger immediately

John Marston

Hes definitely not old and would NOT go under 4 years😭

This guys only 26

Hes not a sugar daddy

Sorry babe

But he thinks your cute

He def likes girls with a attitude

Just look at abigal for christs sake

He was married to her😭

He would try to be good for you

Wanting to take you and run off into the sunset, but he couldnt leave dutch like that

Not after everything dutch had done for him

You would have to get along with jack to even be on johns radar (sorry🥲)

He wants you as soon as your motherly to jack

He talks to arthur about you

He calls you “sweet girl” and “doll” in that gravily voice

Hes incredible, really

Hosea Matthews

Okay well hes old😅

Def a sugar daddy

I mean have you seen him?

He goes for at least 10-12 years younger 😍

After bessie he really didnt think he’d fall in love again but when you came in twirling you hair and giggling he’d be a teenager all over again

You could ask him to shoot the man next to him for no reason and he’d do it

Hes quite literally wrapped around your finger

I say that because he would not leave you alone

Constantly holding you and treating you to gifts and fancy things

He once bought you a diamond necklace in saint denis

Whether you protested or not is up to you

He doesnt let you out of his sight and will not stop rambling to dutch about you

Dutch is too tired and crazy to deal with hosea and sends him your way to obsess over you😊

Sean MacGuire

The belief is hes mid 20’s so im gonna say 25

He definitely is like john and goes for 3 years younger

But i see him as the type to like older women cough cough mary cough

He likes the contrast of him being a stupid asshole and you being a sweet little thing

He trys his best with money but like john has very little so if he buys you something its usually something small

Though he never really feels accomplished after he gets you something small

So he saves for a long time and buys you something a little bigger like a silver necklace or a nice bracelet

His accent gets in the way of things sometimes but he will call you “sweet thing” though it sounds more like “sweet ting”😭

Love him though

Javier Escuella

Another baby of the gang🫶🫶

Hes 26 so he goes for the same range as john

He also doesnt have much money and buys you small things

But he makes it up by calling you endearing nick names

“Mi amor” “dulce nina” “Querida”

You get the point

“Ojalá pudiera comprarte más mi amor pero debes saber que esto es de mi corazón”

I love him sm

He would sugar daddy you if he could

Probably gets upset when he cant buy you things

If your family is rich he refuses your offers of giving him money

It doesnt feel right to have a sweet girl like you give him money when he should be the one providing

It gets him upset to see you want something he knows he cant afford

Has lowkey thought about robbing a very rich man cough cough braithwates cough to buy you things

When on the boat if you go with them he keeps an eye on you

Not liking the scene already, older predatory men being all around you made him extremely uncomfortable

He doesnt want to tell you what to do he always wants it to be your choice but it scares him that he cant really do anything to protect you

Though if it was dire enough he woukd throw the whole plan down the drain to cut open a older guy that got too power hungry and grabbed you

“No te lastimó, ¿verdad, querida?.”

Charles Smith

Hes not as young but doesnt go for under 5 years

Hes got some money to buy small things every now and again

He calls you “baby” and “little girl” alot no matter the age gap

It could only be a few months and he still would💔

He shows you how to hunt and stuff as bonding

He sees killing a deer together and bringing it back to pearson as romantic

But he still takes you on dates

When he can

Hes usually on watch duty as he is literally a unit of a man

This kid is huge

Around 6’6 and 240 pounds

Dwarfs even the biggest of guys, yes even arthur😭

Josiah Trelawny

Trelawny the man you are😍

Hes definitely rich

He has a house with his wife in saint denis

He is quite old so I imagine no more then 10 years difference

He calls you “darling” and “sweet girl” in that trans Atlantic accent

He definitely spoils you rotten

Only the best for his sweet girl

He takes a lot of time to take care of you as well

He doesnt spend time with the gang and only pops up when they need him for things like stealing from rich people

He never lets you pay

Are you kidding

He’d rather die then have you pay for something

Thats a little dramatic but i know he would never feel good about himself ever again if he got to a point where you had to pay

Like what do you mean he doesnt have enough money

No no darling put yours away papa trelawny will have a sweet little chat with the man trying to embarrass him infront of his woman

“YES I HAVE ENOUGH MONEY ARE YOU INSANE, no dear its okay you dont need to pay. BACK TO YOU DONT YOU EVER-“

Obviously there are ones i didnt put in here like micah, pearson, uncle, lenny ect. I dont know enough about them nor do i like most of them (except for lenny i love him sm)

[junosmindpalace]

DOWN IN THE MEADOW

🎧 deep in the brook, catfish are waiting for the hook!

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

synopsis: you, a former saloon girl, and your relationship with arthur through a song in accordance with the seasons.

content: family dynamics, domesticity, relationship timeline, a little bit of insecure arthur, horrible transitions between jack and arthur povs, messy intro and conclusion, soft gentle love thats the fic

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i haven't posted anything in nearly a month...SO sorry about that but here's this! i promise i've been working i've just been pickier with what i choose to post + theyre all lengthy as shit. this is different from what i usually write but we're trying some new stuff </3

Something that not many people were aware of was how very boring the outlaw life could be.

More often than not the lifestyle meant a whole lot of housekeeping, hunting and fishing; and that was only if you were old, strong, and experienced enough to handle such activities. To Jack Marston's misfortune, he was none of those things. 

Life as an outlaw could be especially boring for a young boy such as himself, with no one of his size to cancel out each other’s boredom by becoming playmates. His momma and various aunts and uncles did their best to entertain him when they had the spare time, and he too found amusement in the beauty and wonder of the outdoors.  

Fortunately, the worst of winter's wrath was over with, and beside the occasional snowfall, the weather was tame enough to settle down in a new camp and lounge about.

Because he cannot leave the camp very often, Jack settles for sitting by its outskirts. And it’s one of these even days that become odd when he spots his Uncle Arthur return from a trip into town accompanied by a stranger on the back of his horse.

Jack was closely acquainted with every member of his misfit family; he could recognize every worn face within it. Who wore which scar and where, which voices were more often fussy or brimming with glee, and even the ones that one day disappear and never return. This face that his Uncle Arthur brought back with him was a face he didn’t recognize, kind and curious as he observed it to be.

The small boy had been taught from a very early age not to trust strangers. There are few people in this cold and cruel world that wholeheartedly care for him; the vagabonds in this makeshift home of his were a couple.

But Uncle Arthur had brought her to them with reassurances that she would fit in just fine within their family, to them and seemingly the timid woman herself, who looked onward on at him for guidance. And Jack trusted what the older man deemed safe to accept this new member with hardly any worry in the back of his mind.

It didn’t take long for all of camp to learn that she had been a saloon girl from the town over where Arthur had been frequenting on business. It explained why she had arrived with nothing but a dagger in a holster sewed to her boot and a guitar on her back. 

The strange woman, however, adored Jack from the moment she had introduced herself to him, sitting in the tallgrass and braiding its strands. Jack observed, outside of her initial nervous demeanour, that she had kind eyes and a wit about her that he observed in many members of the gang, including those he loves and cares for the most. A mouth that his mother found often laughing as a result of and along with, and one that spun tall tales in the form of song and dance with various camp members. 

However, everyone was expected to contribute to bringing about funds and resources for the gang. It meant Arthur, the primary enforcer, spent most of his time out of camp running errands. 

You often asked to tag along in the shotgun seat of his wagon, whether to satisfy your own intrigue of the terrain or on Miss Grimshaw’s orders, but the extension of his hand gently escorting you on board was confirmation that Arthur didn’t have very many qualms with his company. 

Between light-hearted conversation, the two of you admire the thick blankets of shiny snow that had built up over various days of steady snowfall through squinted gazes as the light reflected back into your eyes. It glimmered and gleamed under arrays of sunlight, and crunched satisfyingly beneath each turn of the wheel. Your boots are thick and comfortable enough that you’re also able to enjoy the crunch beneath your feet when you arrive into the nearby town and hop off the wagon, with Arthur assisting in steadying you on your way down. 

You scout the town for work while Arthur does his shopping, and it isn’t all that long until you find it in nearby saloons. A couple of standalone gigs for a fair sum of money is perfect for your circumstances. Arthur offers to drive you into town nearly every day, the exception being when he’s already out of camp prior. It’s your primary contributor to the gang’s stability, besides helping around camp when you could. 

Uncle Arthur and the saloon girl often accompanied one another in their errands, by the shore of a river, or on a log beside the campfire. Jack could often find the two of you exchanging everything from anecdotes to laughs to something more shy and intimate. There are a set of unspoken social customs and courtesies when it came to confronting such curiosity, but Jack was too young to understand such customs; and far too curious.

So curious as to go so far as to one day innocently ask his Uncle Arthur if he was sweet on the girl—in front of her. His bluntness had the poor man choking on the rum from his flask as his cheeks flushed from either the suffocation or the embarrassment he felt over the situation--or perhaps both.

“Wha…N...No, you can’t just—“ he attempts to recollect himself, letting out a couple of coughs into the crook of his elbow before inhaling a strangled breath in. His eyes dart nervously between you and the boy. “You can’t just ask things like that, Jack. It ain’t polite. Where'd you even learn that...?"

But your warm eyes only crinkle in amusement as you laugh.

“I don’t mind. Besides, what does your lot know about polite?” 

Jack liked her songs, and found his feet eagerly carrying themselves over when he hears her by the campfire with Javier, guitars out and voices in sweet harmony. Sometimes she’ll get up and dance, and Jack will join her on her feet. One evening, there's already someone else swaying with you to a melody, and your gleeful laughter is paired with Arthur's bashful chuckles.

Oh, curse his northern attitude for leaving him so stiff, burning under the intensity of your warm gaze. The ambers from the campfire leave a little twinkle in your eye that makes his stomach stir uncomfortably, his muscles seize up the slightest bit. But your appreciative smile and courtesy as he bows playfully tells him there was nothing to forgive in the first place. 

Spring eventually sprouts up from the ground, and with it, more opportunities for leisure activity. Abigail kindly asks if you would take little Jack with you and Arthur to bask in the serene nature trails by the meadows, to which you happily oblige her request. 

Arthur leaves camp with you on the back of his horse or on the shotgun seat of the wagon more often than not. Sometimes--Jack overhears--it's on Miss Grimshaw’s orders. Other times, one or the other is in need of some company to assist with a personal chore. And very occasionally, the reason lies solely in wanting to be around one another (though this is more speculation on the gang's part, who by now have also taken note of that lingering something, and coming to this conclusion from the longing gazes as if it were obvious). 

In the back of the wagon, you observe the thawing of the snow with Jack through the harmony of your guitar, each firm, yet soft, strum ringing through the warm spring air. The smiles in your voices coupled with the gentle hum of your singing soothes something hard and tense in Arthur’s soul as he too basks in the sweetness of your melody while he drives at the front, melting it to the equivalent of the sludge of the snow. 

When Mr South Wind sighs in the pines

Old Mr Winter whimpers and whines

Down in the meadow, under the snow

April is teaching green things to grow

From prairies to creeks to small forests, your journeys take you in all sorts of places. The grass only grows greener, the sun only shines brighter, and the day is perfect when the wind is cool, too. More and more often are you and Arthur out of camp, and every time you return, Jack observes, you’re both in quite high and satisfied spirits. 

Arthur sits cross legged in a meadow just along one of the trails he takes to and from town filled with wildflowers. His journal sits in his lap, and he carefully sketches a scene not too far down from him. Just a few meters away do you sit with Jack by the wagon with your guitar on your leg as you sing affectionately, with grins plastered on both of your faces as you sway with the rhythm. 

When Mr West Wind howls in a glade

Old Mr Summer nods in the shade

Down in the meadow, deep in the brook

Catfish are waiting for the hook!

You participate in crafting jewelry out of the yellow flowers alongside the boy, using the back of your guitar as a makeshift table as you carefully pluck the dandelions and daisies surrounding you, watching one another as you weave the stems and excitedly present the final products to one another. Later, you’d teach him how he can store all kinds of leaves and flowers and herbs between the heavy pages of his storybooks. That was just the sort of thing you did; bring about this an innocent wonder and awe into peoples lives like no strange character Arthur has ever met; and he’s had quite his share of encounters with strange folk. 

He doesn’t remember the last time the world has brimmed with so much color, full of a kind of special magic. He finds it impossible to replicate the scene to perfection in his journal, but each additional detail--your tooth peeking out from your smile, the crescent shape of your eyes, the gentle dexterity in your hands-- reduces him to some sort of breathlessness.

And each time he picks up his book and flips back to his illustration, he returns to that beautiful day, the same feeling of sheer admiration returning with it, so maybe he didn’t do too terrible of a job.

Arthur's journal holds a dirty secret: that perhaps he was in love with you.

A fair portion of the pages were filled with sketches of you, whole portraits and mini doodles, of passages detailing your endeavours together, transcribed song lyrics of yours, and worst of all, the ever changing feelings of his toward you. They aren't very becoming from a man such as himself, but perhaps nothing good really was. A sort of guilt and hefty embarrassment weighed on his heart the more he reflected on it, too depressingly for a man who should be only elevated by the realisation. But what other than sorrow did love ever promise Arthur?

Old Lady Blackbird flirts with the scarecrow

Scarecrow is waving at the moon

Old Mr Moon makes hearts everywhere go bump, bump

With the magic of June

It’s Jack’s favorite part of the song because of a little smack! you give the body of the guitar over halfway through the verse, and he either claps or slaps his own knees along to the rhythm with a giggle. 

As dusk approaches the horizon, Jack finds the two of you sitting on the shore of the river just beside camp, and through the gaps between tall pine trees and tents with their equipment alike, Jack can see your legs thrown over Uncle Arthur’s lap. A gentle hand of his rests on your clothed thigh, smoothing down the fabric of your skirt as the other is placed behind him, keeping him upright. You play around with the placement of Arthur’s hat on his head. For whatever reason, it amuses you to no end, and the unimpressed look on Arthur’s face only fuels your laughter. Still, he’s only able to maintain the expression for a moment before it morphs into one of endearment. 

The water from the river sparkles behind the two of you as the scene unfolds before the boy’s eyes, and he’s forced to look away when he feels a tug at his arm.

“Oh, Jack, aren't you nosey? Let’s not bother Uncle Arthur right now,” his mother quickly ushers him away toward the opposite side of the camp, glancing between her son and the pair of you. “He’s busy.” 

Jack is able to spare one final glance over his shoulder in your direction, catch a glimpse of your foreheads resting against each other as your laughter subdues, before he turns away and allows his momma to lead him to help his pa with some of his chores. 

When Mr East Wind shouts over head

Then all the leaves turn yellow and red

Down in the meadow corn stocks are high

Pumpkins are ripe and ready for pie

Autumn, specifically, is an interesting time to be out and about. Arthur chaperones you and Jack on your scavenger hunt of various fall plants and beauties. The two of you point out the various colors in the trees and on the ground, the mushrooms growing between blades of grass, and the various herbs and flowers and crops that grow in the fields. Arthur doubles as a delightful treasure trove of knowledge, with some of the items already having a portion of his page in his journal dedicated to its likeness, and some he adds in as you go along. 

You entertain his insight as you walk arm in arm, and something about it is just so delightfully domestic, Arthur recognises, that it makes him feel like mush again.

For a moment, he nearly forgets what his life really is, what sort of gruesome deeds he’s responsible for, the consequences of this lifestyle, and he’s desperate to hold onto the moment. Innocent and peaceful, a life he's been unrightfully yearning after for a while now. The foraging all in all reaps well, yet Arthur can’t help but find the real reward in the way you lean your head against his arm as if he were a pillar of security, not an anchor that weighs you down.

Old Lady Blackbird flirts with the scarecrow

Scarecrow's waving at the Moon

Old Mr Moon makes hearts everywhere go bump-bump

With the magic of June

Unfortunately, the magic of the warm weather does not last forever. Yet not even the encroaching winter chill could freeze up the warmth in your chest. But it did nip at your fingertips--at your’s and Arthur’s and Jack’s. 

The groups joint efforts are relied upon a hundredfold when the snow starts to fall and the chill breezes through the flaps of the tents in the camps. Like a clock tower bell, it indicates that it’s time to up and move and find more secure shelter, with stronger walls and better furnaces. Somehow the bitter cold doesn’t leave a quiver in your heart, and it's proven when you sit on the edge of Arthur’s wagon with Jack and Abigail and your guitar in your lap as you strum through a melody for Jack’s entertainment. 

When Mr North Wind rolls on the breeze

Old father Christmas trims over trees

Down in the meadow snow shoftly gleams…

The lengthy trip wears everyone down eventually, and after an indefinite amount of time consolidating the various paths, the gang happens along an abandoned town in which to take refuge from Demeter’s grief. 

By the time you arrive at the safe destination to set up camp, the stars have made themselves visible in the sky. Arrangements are quickly made to set up camp and settle everyone into a room with a place to sleep, wagons being unloaded and horses tied to posts. Thankfully, the snow has ceased attempting to bury the gang in a thick blanket, and the winds howl has lulled to a short whistle. Arthur’s sleeping arrangement differs for the first time in years; Miss Grimshaw tells him he now shares a room with you. 

As it is your first time relocating, the move takes a harsh toll on both your physical and mental exhaustion. Along with young Jack at the back of Arthur’s wagon you both lie dead to the world with uncomfortable expressions. Abigail raises the boy into her arms when she comes around with a huff, cradling him close to her jacket. 

“Alright little man,” she tells him with an affectionate, exasperated tone as she turns to trudge to her cabin, “let’s get you to bed now.” 

Arthur turns to stare at you, hugging your body in an unconscious effort to keep even the slightest bit warm and relaxed, and for some reason cannot find the heart to wake you from your uneasy slumber. So he huffs, strides over, and situates an arm under your legs and another behind your back.

“C’mere, sleeping beauty…” he grunts as he lifts you in a similar fashion close to his chest, slowly making his way toward your shared cabin. “Didn’t realize you were so adverse to traveling.” 

Then again, it wasn’t anybody’s particularly favorite part of the lifestyle. 

Yet an endearing smile plays on his lips when you unconsciously snuggle closer to him, and he knows that the love in your touch and the song in your heart would keep him warm even after the thaw. 

…earth goes to sleep and smiles in her dreams...♡

return to masterlist.

[outlawruben]

How I think rdr2 characters respond to praise/compliments!

(They are going to sound kinda dumb but I promise I actually put effort into these.)

This may be interpreted as Cannon x Reader or Cannon x your ship!

These are totally fluffy and definitely SFW Jsyk

Abigail Marston - she probably would scoff and wave her hands/playfully slap them, or simply say thank you

Arthur Morgan - turn bright red and hot under the brim of his hat, and responds to them with a half mumbled: “it’s really nothing..” and then walk away awkwardly. (He’s seen with a smile on his face for the rest of the day) (he’s gonna write a new journal entry abt this)

Bill Williamson - scoffs and tells them to “shut up” but loves the compliment. (He always seems to think he’s being picked on)

Charles Smith - goes all quiet for a beat after the compliment and then gives them a sincere “thank you” he smiles at them for the rest of the day.

Dutch Van Der Linde- A simple: “Thank you M’dear.” However, they’ve inflated his ego even more which Dutch appreciates, and goes to seek their company more.

Hosea Matthews - surprised he was sought after to receive a compliment, depending on what it is, he will openly appreciate it, and mean it.

Jack Marston - “Thank you! :D” his momma taught him manners.

Javier Escuella- He responds with a small chuckle and a “thank you” they are chill now/ they’ve leveled up in Javier liking them.

John Marston- Not expecting it at first but then he melts into a dumb grin and starts avoiding eye contact as he says “thank you.”

Josiah Trelawny- “why thank you!” With a smile. He really appreciates compliments.

Karen Jones- “Ain’t you sweet?” She smirks at them. And that’s basically it.

Kieran Duffy- definitely not expecting a compliment of any kind. “O-oh- thank you..” he smiles kindly and fidgets.

Lenny Summers- grins widely and gives a “thank you!” His mind seems to wander back to the interaction for the rest of the day

Leopold Strauss- Kind of confused but shares his small gratitudes anyway

Mary-Beth Gaskill - “Oh, thank you..” she idly plays with her hair as she talks with them.

Micah Bell - At the very least he’ll scoff, and if he does say anything it’s along the lines of: “Christ, why you so soft?” But he’s blushing nonetheless.

Molly O’Shea- She giggles sweetly and blushes, sharing her gratitudes, and when she sees them for the rest of the day she smiles at them kindly. (She’s happy someone is paying attention to her, giving her a compliment even)

Reverend, Orville Swanson- if not in a drunken stupor, he says his thanks with a grateful smile.

Sadie Adler- grins at them ear to ear with a “thanks..” and soft blush forming on her cheeks

Sean MacGuire- “I din’ know ye’ loved me or something.” He teases them, grinning dumbly.

Simon Pearson- genuinely appreciates it, his big smile misshaping his mustache

Susan Grimshaw- “why thank you darlin’ “ she smiles at them. Not really expecting a compliment but she’s always appreciative of all affection.

Tilly Jackson- “Thank you!” She says kindly full of gratitude and love. (It means the world to her)

Uncle - he didn’t hear it

[spongeyspot]

Poly Relationship HCs (SFW +NSFW)

(John Marston x fem!reader x Abigail Marston)

(A/N): A little longer than I anticipated. Also, I'm terrible at editing things so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, please don't bite me. I'm just a wee baby

Content warning: fluff, small mentions of infidelity, polyamory, female reader, you/she pronouns

SFW

- The relationship itself had probably started when either John or Abigail had started to catch feelings

- It was probably Abigail considering how distant John was from her in the beginning

- Quite honestly would probably keep your relationship a secret during the very early stages.

- She saw how much you cared about her and her family, so it was only natural for her to start to fall in love. She fell in love with John pretty quickly, too, though he was a bit slower to warm up to the idea of having a family

- You, however, love Jack as if he were your own, which makes Abigail swoon even more. Plus, another parent figure to Jack (Who he also really likes) because her husband is kinda useless half the time? Jackpot!

- When she brought up adding you to their relationship, John was probably pretty okay with the idea, even a little excited, though if she told him that she had been seeing you secretly before that, he'd probably be a little pissy.

- After adding you to their family, things seemed to move a lot smoother. John warmed up to the idea a lot quicker than both of you had anticipated

- You usually act as a mediator for a lot of Abigail and John's fights, but knowing John he'd probably say some shit like "Look, even she's on my side!" and Abigail would get pissed at you too.

- Abigail LOVES to hold you by the fire. John usually has his arm around the both of you with you sitting in the middle.

- Would take turns having you sleep with them at night because their bedrolls weren't really big enough to fit one person, let alone three.

- When the gang moved to Shady Belle, things were a lot easier with lodging. John loses his mind every time he gets to cuddle the both of you at the same time. He's a sucker for physical touch, really.

- After chores are finished, the three of you are usually found sitting under a tree, Abigail cuddled into your side while you read a book, and John lays on his back beside you, his head resting on your thighs. His hat is usually covering his face, but when it isn't, you or Abigail absentmindedly play with his hair or massage his scalp.

- Abigail loves it when you spend time with Jack. It makes her heart swell to see him having so much fun.

- You tend to encourage John to spend time with him as well, which she also appreciates.

- Family game nights end with You and Jack teamed up and absolutely wrecking John at dominoes while Abigail watches

- Says something like "I let you win." with a roll of his eyes before sulking away

- Pet names!

- John calls you 'Baby', 'Darlin'', 'Dollface', and even 'Sugartits' if he wants to get slapped

- Abigail calls you 'Honey', 'Sweetie pie', 'Honey Bun', or 'Pretty Girl'.

- Both John and Abigail enjoy physical affection.

- John likes to kiss your hair and squeeze your thighs.

- Abigail loves to kiss you on the cheek and hold your hand.

-If John walks by you, he will throw out an affectionate compliment or two

- "God, you look pretty today, (Name)."

- Also probably pinches or slaps your ass on his way by

- He secretly loves it when you slap or pinch his ass too, though he'd never actually admit it.

- Abigail is a bit more sultry with it, then goes back to normal like she didn't just blatantly hit on you

- "Damn, well look at you, Pretty girl. Don't you look fine this mornin'... Coffee?"

- Also pinches and slaps your ass, but also gives it a good squeeze, and will sometimes hold her hand on your ass instead of on your hip if you stand side by side.

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

Content Warnings: oral sex (m + f recieving), mean!dom!abigail, dacryphilia if you squint, edging, masturbation, voyeurism, cucking if you squint, risky sex, brat tamer!Abigail, spanking, biting, hickeys, marking kink, Mommy kink, praise, breeding, creampies, cum eating

- John and Abigail are both switches.

- John tends to be a top when it's just the two of you, but when Abigail is also part of the fun, he's most likely on his back, letting you both use him however you please.

- His favorite is when he's laying on his back and both you and Abigail take turns sucking his cock, occasionally pulling away to kiss. It makes him rock hard. Never mind how it feels... he could cum from the sight alone... his favorite girls worshipping his cock with all their enthusiasm and love.

- Abigail is a Dom/top a lot of the time. She can also be pretty mean about it.

- Abigail edges you to the point where sometimes, you'll cry out for her, begging her to let you finish. Every time she finally lets you, you always feel like you cum so much harder than you ever had before.

- John loves to sit back and jerk off, watching the two of you in bed together.

- Abigail sometimes does the same, sitting aside whilst rubbing and fucking her pussy with her fingers as she watches John fuck you into his bedroll

- Abigail loves it when you act like a brat - She likes to leave your ass red and sore from spanking you, and often orders John to do the same when she watches.

- Abigail also probably bites you a leaves hickeys to stake her claim on you. Makes sure to put them where everyone can see.

- John does the same, but it's usually below where your clothes would cover them like your breasts, stomach, or thighs

- John LOVES biting you. He loves making you squirm

- Abigail lowkey has a Mommy kink

- Abigail likes to call you her Pillow Princess, pulling beautiful noises from you as she makes you cum multiple times in quick succession with just her hands. Sometimes even her words.

- "Look at you, sweetie pie. All pretty and spread open, just for me. Oh, I know you just came... but... How's about one more, huh? Can you do that for Mommy?"

- There have been times when it's been just the two of you, and she's shown far more vulnerability than she's used to. During those times, she's on her back, a hand covering her mouth as you work her open with your mouth and fingers.

- Please praise the hell out of her during these times. She really needs it.

- Even when Abigail is vulnerable with you, she is still in control almost 99.99% of the time.

- John and Abigail are both certified munches

-John loves when both of you are on top of him, riding both his dick and his face.

- He eats pussy like his life depends on it. Fr like it's his last meal.

- He also loves to watch you eat pussy.

- He loves to fuck you in the doggy style position while Abigail buries your face between her legs.

- John usually likes to have sex in the privacy of his tent/room, whereas Abigail likes risky sex. She likes the idea of there being a possibility you could be caught

- there have been numerous times when she's stuck her hand into the front of your skirts while you sat the the dining table during mealtimes. As far as you both knew, the other people sitting there had been oblivious.

- John knows. He always knows. He was watching the whole time.

- He was usually the one to instigate it, always letting Abigail know whenever you forwent bloomers. (he would hide them so you couldn't wear them)

-Though he'd probably never participate himself, he loves to watch you come undone on Abigail's fingers in public.

- John fantasizes about getting you pregnant too.

- He brought it up to Abigail as a joke, saying how nice it would be for Jack to have a sibling to play with.

- From that point on, John was told to cum inside you every chance he got, not stopping even after you're swollen and round with his baby.

-Abigail enjoys eating you out after John has cum inside you.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

So, hypothetically speaking,

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

And this is hypothetical...

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

And hypothetically,

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

Again, this is hypothetical.

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

Taking What’s Not Yours

(John Marston x Fem!Reader Smut)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Taking What’s Not Yours - TV Girl

[coltercowboy]

could you write a little something with jack x reader? fluff and gn please! 🌸🫶

latibule

JACK MARSTON never thought he'd find love. it was never a priority for him - he spent most of his days hunting down the man who killed his father. so, when you happened to stumble into his life, he found himself rather lost on what to do. the two of you fell for each other almost instantly. it reminded him of one of those cheesy romance novels he used to read for shits and giggles, only now romance didn't seem so bad.

as the months passed, you became his safe haven - protecting him from his own mind. his thoughts were scattered these days. the war inside him raged on, and he knew it would for the rest of his miserable life.

however, there was always that one constant thing bringing him joy. you. each time you smiled at him, spared a glance his way, helped him with anything at all, it felt like a dream come true. jack swore that if angels really existed, they must've been nothing in comparison to you.

he arrived home late, as he usually did. his footsteps were light, rapping softly against the old hardwood floors as he made his way to the bedroom. there you were, fast asleep on the little rickety bed. jack couldn't help but smile to himself, adoring the peaceful look on your face. out of all the times he spent with you, these were his favorite. nothing was better than curling up in bed with the one he loved most.

you felt the bed dip and creak with the weight of someone behind you. a sleepy murmur fell from your lips as you shifted, unconsciously pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“sorry, sweetheart,” a voice whispered. a pair of chapped lips pressed a delicate kiss behind your ear. “didn't mean to wake you.”

“hi, jack,” you whispered, eyes still shut as you reached back to hold his hand, his skin rough and calloused against your own. even in your groggy state, the tiredness clouding your mind never deterred your love for him. “missed you.”

“i missed you, too.” another kiss was placed on your neck, his free hand wrapping around your waist to pull your body flush against his own. he always loved holding you. it made him feel needed and wanted. “go back to sleep. y’ need your rest.”

a little smile grew on your lips, and even in the darkness, jack felt his heart flutter. as the two of you lay there drifting off to sleep, he decided that maybe his life wasn't so miserable after all. that war inside himself seemed to settle down, and for just a moment, his world was at peace. you were his hiding place, a place of safety and comfort.

[gicosmo]

Damn Those Marstons

Jack Marston x Fem!Reader.

Hey, RDR fans! I got into RDR2 a few months back and I literally binge watched play throughs of RDR1. This angsty idea for Jack popped up(because he can never be happy😔) and I just had to write it!

Synopsis: You’ve been with Jack for a few months now. When he asks you to meet his family, you would’ve never thought you would be meeting one of the two outlaws who killed your father.

Warnings: Takes place during RDR1(1914)(Jack is nineteen), alternate universe where the Marston family lives a bit longer lol, John uses his fake name ‘Jim Milton’, a little bit of arguing, just really sad angst.

“Can I tell you both somethin’?” Jack piped up at the dinner table, placing his spoon down into his bowl. Abigail and John immediately looked up at him, confusion written on both of their faces. It was pretty unusual for Jack to get all serious at random. Abigail nodded, “Of course. You can tell us anything, Jack.” She reached over, giving a gentle reassuring pat on his shoulder.

John remained quiet, observing his son. If anything, he was quite on edge, not wanting any bad news. Jack took a deep breath before a smile appeared on his face, “I’ve been seeing this lady. God— Ma, you’ll love her! She’s the sweetest, most loving lady you’ll meet.” Jack’s eyes sparkled as he went on a rant about his girlfriend. Abigail and John were shocked in the moment, but then proceeded to smile. They would be lying to themselves if they said they weren’t happy that Jack had finally found someone.

John chuckled as he looked at Abigail, “Looks like our boy is head over heels! When can we meet her, son?” Jack paused, thinking for a moment.

“How about tomorrow?” Jack answered, looking over at his mother, “If that’s okay with you, ma.”

Abigail laughed, nodding her head, “Of course it’s okay with me! I’ll cook a nice dinner for the four of us! I can’t wait to meet her.”

Jack was ecstatic! He was in his bed, looking up at the ceiling being unable to fall asleep. He couldn’t wait for you to meet his family. His mind was racing until he eventually tired himself out.

In the morning Jack was already at your front door. You opened it with a bright smile on your face, “Well I wasn’t expecting you today. Why do you have the dumb smile on your face? What are you planning?” You walked up to him, Jack leaning down to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I ain’t planning nothin’! Just… Will you come have dinner with my parents? Today?” Jack blurted out. It was evident he was pretty excited about this. You were taken aback by this. Dinner? With his parents?

You giggled sheepishly, “Geez, Jack. I wish you told me this sooner. I don’t think I got any nice clothes to give a good first impression…” Jack shook his head, grabbing your hands into his, “No need for fancy clothes no nothing. My parents don’t care about your wealth. They care about who you are.”

His words melted your heart. Jack bent down, pulling you in for a soft tender kiss. You always loved how gentle he was with you. Once he pulled away, you stepped back into your home, “Let me tell my mother i’ll be gone for a while. Mind waiting out here while I get ready?”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-

After getting ready, Jack helped you onto his horse and rode back to his home. The horse ride wasn’t silent what so ever as Jack couldn’t help but tell you how excited he was. All you could do was smile. It was nice seeing your lover get so excited about something.

Once you both arrive at Beechers Hope, he helped you off of the horse. He held your hand as you both walked up the step of his home. Abigail opened the door with a smile, “Why, hello! You must be the little lady Jack has been talking on and on about!” She walked up to you, giving you a friendly hug.

“Cmon now Ma— Don’t embarrass me like that…” Jack muttered, scratching his head and turning away out of embarrassment. Abigail rolled her eyes, “There’s nothing embarrassing about loving a lady! Now come on in! Dinner is almost ready!” She led you both inside the house, the scent of a good meal in the air.

“Where’s Pa?” Jack questioned, pulling a chair out for you to sit in. Abigail sighed and shrugged, “Joh— I mean, Jim went out a while ago. He said he’ll be back. He most definitely doesn’t want to miss out on this.” She reassured Jack.

Abigail sat down at the table with the both of you. She seemed like a lovely young woman. Sweet yet had a fierce aura to her. She questioned you about your home life, how you met Jack, all the basic questions a parent would ask their child’s lover.

You were honest with her. You told her how it was just you and your mother since your father was killed by some bad people when you were a kid. You spoke about how you only had some insight of two of the men who took your father’s life, hoping you wouldn’t run into them again. You spoke about how you met Jack while shopping for books, how the love for literature brought you both together.

Talking with Abigail felt so natural, both of you didn’t seem to notice someone enter the home. Jack smiled, “Took you long enough, sir.” You turned your head and immediately froze. All you could do was stare at the man with scars on his face.

“Took you long enough, Jim!” Abigail got up, gently slapping her husband’s arm. The man looked at you and smiled, “You must be the lovely lady Jack can’t shut up about! Nice to meet ya! I’m Jim. Jim Milton! You’ve already met Abigail…” You couldn’t hear his words anymore. Everything your boyfriend has told you was a lie.

There was no one named Jim Milton in this home. There wasn’t a Milton at all. The man in front of you was none other than John Marston. Jack wasn’t a Milton either. He was a Marston. They all were.

Your vision became blurry, your ears were ringing so loud. You couldn’t think straight. What could you do? What can you do?

You needed to leave.

“Hun? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” You snapped back into reality as Jack held your hands gently, looking at you with concern. You gently pushed him away, shaking your head.

“I need to leave. Excuse me.” You pushed Jack out of the way, but he immediately grabbed your wrist. “Hey hey, what’s wrong? Did we do something? Did I do something?” Jack questioned, obviously really confused and concerned.

That’s when you just snapped. You couldn’t take the pain anymore.

“As a matter of fact you did do something. Marston.” You spat at him, Jack instantly taken aback by your outburst. Abigail gasped, her hands cupping over her mouth. John froze, if anything he was terrified at the fact that you knew who they were.

“Is this what people like you do, Marston!? You kill people who had families to go back to while you’re here living a great life with your family!?” You yelled at John. Jack glanced at his father, confused and utterly shocked.

Tears fell from your face as you shook your head, “You took my father from me. I was just a kid… How come you can live your best life, seeing your child grow up… But my father can’t?” You looked at all three of them before looking at Jack,

“I can’t be with the son of an outlaw. Especially to the outlaw that took my father’s life,” You looked back at John and Abigail, “If you’re worried about me telling others about where you live, don’t. I get nothing out of revenge. Just know that your actions will catch up to you. You can never leave your old life to live a new. It happened to my father, it will happen to you.”

You walked towards the front door, “I hope you all enjoy your lives. Goodbye.” With that, you left the home. You heard the front door swing up, footsteps rushing towards you. Turning around, it was Jack.

“Darlin’! Please, don’t leave. Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I know my Pa has done some horrible things— But I swear he’s a changed man!” Jack pulled you into an embrace, “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in so long. I— I love you…”

Jack’s words were sincere. They really were. But you couldn’t shake the disgusting feeling off of you. You gently pushed him off from you,

“Jack. I love you— Well… I loved you too. But I know my father would be rolling in his grave knowing I was dating the son of the man who killed him.”

Jack’s heart sunk. He couldn’t do anything but watch you walk away. What can he even say? It wasn’t long until John came out to check up on his son.

John reached down to place a hand on Jack’s shoulder, immediately getting rejected by him. Jack glared at his father, “Damnit old man, You’ve made my life a living hell. I can forgive you for so many other things you’ve done. But this? I don’t know if I can.”

Jack bumped his father’s shoulder as he walked back into the house. Abigail tried to comfort him, but he immediately shut that down. John and Abigail had a lot to talk about.

It took you a long while to get back home. Your mother greeted you with a loving smile, but all you could do was cry in her arms. She didn’t question nor judge you, she did what a mother does best and held you. Telling you it was going to be okay.

Damn those Marstons.

Damn that sweet loving boy you fell in love with.

And damn your heart for still loving him.

[allzelemonz]

Annoying: John Marston X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 3, Hate Sex Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Hate sex, anal fingering, anal sex, prostate massage, dirty talk, teasing, mentions of John’s situation with Abigail and Jack, Reader is an asshole, pre-Blackwater, violence, punching Summary: You’ve been sent on a scouting excursion with John to find a good spot closer to Blackwater, John is annoying through the whole ride.

It has been two hours. Walking along a barren trail with your tired horse and listening to the endless and constant complaining of John Marston. The man is undoubtedly irritating, wholly annoying. But Dutch picked you for scouting, so you to try to tune out that stupid scratch in his voice and focus on looking for a new spot closer to Blackwater.

“I just don’t get what her deal is.” John continues.

You feel the distinct desire to bash your head against your saddle horn. Maybe that would end this insufferable ride. Why couldn’t Dutch have picked Javier or Charles or someone quiet? At least Micah talks about interesting things on occasion. Bill can crack a joke. None of them have this apparent need to vent whilst riding.

“She just doesn’t-”

“Marston.” You groan. “Shut up, for the love of life itself. Just be quiet for once.”

“Oh, are my problems annoying you?”

“Yes, jeez, just shut it.”

He huffs, looking away to pout like a child.

“No one wants to hear about you and Abigail, the whole camp already has to listen to you go on and on about how the kid isn’t yours. No one cares.”

“Fuck off.” He mutters.

“I wish I could.”

There is a blissful minute of silence before he opens his mouth again. “You think he’s mine?”

“Fuck, Marston.” You sigh. “I have no clue, just shut the hell up.”

“He ain’t.” He mumbles. “Can’t be.”

“You won’t have to worry about it if you keep talking, because I’ll shoot you.”

“Why’re you always so damn irritable?”

“Because you annoy me to no end, Marston.”

You pull on your reins to move towards a clearing that looks promising, only slightly visible from the narrow path between trees. Finally sliding off your horse, you stretch your legs a little and look over the spot.

“How do I annoy you exactly?”

You rub at your eyes, feeling the ache forming behind them from having to listen to his voice. “In every possible way you could ever imagine.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I’m not the one bothering other people with my problems.”

“At least I find the time to bring money in instead of lounging around camp all damn day!”

That, now that, brings a twinge of much more than annoyance to buzz around in your head. Not only have you been bringing in consistent money since you joined, you just pulled a job with Mac and Davey that scored the camp funds upwards of eight-hundred dollars. So, naturally, you punch John in the face for suggesting otherwise.

“Shit.” He mutters, recoiling and tackling you to the ground.

You roll for a while, exchanging punches and losing your hats along the way until you find yourself atop John. You sit across his thin torso, your fist curled into his shirt as the other stands ready to lay another blow. But, John, he goes still, as if he’s afraid to move. For all the scrapping and talk, you know you’re not scary enough to make him freeze like this so you lower your raised fist and look over your shoulder. You half expect to see lawmen or O’Driscolls or something, but it’s just the forest and the horses grazing by the trees.

“What’s your problem, Marston?” You ask, shifting slightly on him.

Then you feel it, barely brushing against the back of your thigh as you move. John Marston is hard in his pants from being beaten up by a man that hates him. His face flushes and he claws at your arm, but you just push him down harder into the grass. Your mind races for a moment, thinking of the roads you could take. You hate the man quite a bit, but you’d be a fool to deny he’s attractive and something in the back of your mind is begging you to find out what that raspy voice sounds like when it’s full of want.

“We tell no one.” You mutter, giving John a threatening look.

John’s chest moves slow as he processes, then he nods quickly. You lean down and connect your lips, catching the taste of tobacco and the scruff of his stubble. John’s hands find your hips, urging you down to grind against you but you resist.

“You’re not in charge here, Marston.” You murmur against his lips. “You just lay still and let me use you, understand?”

His eyes dart around yours quickly as his face gets redder by the second. “Y-Yeah.”

You move down to unfasten his pants and as he kicks them off, you fish a tube of gun oil from your pocket. It has always been a suspicion of yours that John gets around more than he lets on, and it is all but confirmed by the way he stuffs his pants under his hips and spreads his legs.

“You some kind of whore on the side, Marston?” You ask, fixing yourself between his open legs. “That why you got on with Abigail, a shared profession?”

“Shut up.” He mutters.

He intends to say more but you cut him off easily by inserting your slicked fingers without warning. His back arches, pressing into the feeling as he chokes on a bit of air that turns into a whimper. You’re not going to give him the time to rest or adjust, he doesn’t deserve it after talking all day. So you crook your fingers, running them along until his hips jolt from the contact. Then you focus and focus hard, pressing into that nice sensitive spot inside of him until he can’t even speak to warn you. He releases across his stomach, his softening dick untouched.

His head lulls to the side as he catches his breath and you slip your fingers out. You move as fast as you can, not wanting to hear any of his protests about being sensitive. He’d whine about it, you know he would, so you grip his hips and press inside in the midst of his recovery. John chokes on air again, muttering as he covers his red face with his arm. Only one eye peaks out at you as you start your pace and you ignore it, focusing on the act rather than the who. If you don’t think about it being John, the image of your dick disappearing inside such a nice ass and the feeling of gripping such a slim waist make you groan to yourself. If it were any other man, you’d praise him for feeling so good.

John, however, does not have that control. “God, you’re… fuck you’re good.”

It’s the moan that gets you, raspy just like you imagined, and completely wanton. You double your effort because that sound was so good for something that came from John of all people. And, to your delight, it happens again. As you slam into him, your balls bouncing enough to truly earn the nickname, John begins to pant. Your eyes are drawn to his dick as he reaches for it and stops it from slapping against his stomach. His hand wraps around and pumps in time with you.

You lean down a bit, enough to speak over John’s lewd noises. “You better get yourself off before me, Marston. I’m not helping you otherwise.”

He groans, seemingly all too happy to be treated like nothing but something to fuck in the grass of the gang’s next camp spot. You watch his hand, your eyes flicking down to watch your own fucking on occasion. Both are such a sight. John cums again, spilling a little on his hand this time. The sound he makes, such a shaky and raspy guttural moan, hits the right things for you and sends you right over. You slow your thrusts, milking yourself before burying deep inside of him.

It takes a few minutes before your muscles respond and you can pull out to rest back on your knees. John still has a haze in his eyes, his arms splayed out as his chest heaves. You let yourself relish the sight, forgetting only for a moment that you hate him, then you pick up the tube of gun oil from the grass and pull on your pants. A one time thing, albeit a great one, with such an annoying man.

[sleepyelliee]

1914 Jack Marston x reader.

before you proceed !

FEM READER, mentioned alcohol since it's set in a saloon, you're sneaking hanging out with jack. you're a rich girl who is supposedly 'sleeping' at the moment...

a little OOC? he is drunk, pure fluff! you and Jack are already dating...friends. lmk if I should add anything else. Loosely proofread, a little drabble, lmk if you want this longer.

also, do you guys still fw jack? might stop writing about him since like nobody has interest in him or something. 😭😭

Normally, at 10:45 PM you would find yourself snuggled in your warm bed and on the verge of falling asleep, not in an outlaws arms as you both drank. Both of your parents spoke about being aware of who you were hanging out with but you swore you wouldn't mix yourself in people who were even considered as a bad influence.

There was an undying paranoia of anyone finding out about you and Jack. Your father was a successful business men and if anyone found out that the daughter of someone so successful is dating an outlaw, it would spiral your family reputation down.

But those thoughts swiftly vanished as you felt the whiskey burn your throat with each shot your boyfriend poured for you, encouraging you to let go for a moment and not to be so uptight - he would claim.

His arm was around your waist protectively as he would mumble quiet flirtations in your ear as he would kiss behind your ear, cheek and shoulder as he hovered over you.

...

You really... Don't know how you managed to lean against a table with jack.. to pushing you against a bathroom sink as his arms were each side of the counter, trapping you between them.

"Jack...c'mon.." You tried to reason with your boyfriend as you were covered with his kisses — cheeks, forehead, neck and lips. You never thought that Jack would've been a clingy drunk but there is a lot of stuff you didn't know about the gunslinger that was all over you.

"Oh, did you get...er.." Jack trailed off as his lips found yours before pulling away from the kiss and continued, "Are you wearin' a new lipstick?" His words were all a incoherent mess, ignoring the words you spoke to him beforehand as he held you close.

A sigh escaped your lips, "What does the lipstick I wear have to do with being pressed against a damn sink counter..." You grumbled before you get cut off with another kiss to your cheek. A part of you wanted to remind him that you needed to go home since it was nearing midnight but you couldn't say no to getting his kisses that you tried to deny of liking.

...

Later that night, you snuck back into your room as you helped Jack get through the small window of your room, silently helping him get into your bed because you know he will have the worst headache of his life the next morning.

The couple minutes of struggling to pull your drunk boyfriend through the window and make him lay down on the bed felt all worth it as his arms wrapped around you and pressed you tightly to his chest.

Since your room was halls down from your parents, the commotion was silent to them which eased off the worry in your mind, allowing you to get a good nights sleep as your head was resting on the outlaw's chest.

reblogs and likes are very much appreciated<3. thank you so much for reading ! masterlist.

[tobybestupid]

Masterlist

★ Also, if requesting please add what gender you would like if it is for NSFW!! (Gender neutral is okay too!)

★ Btw! Please, do not spam like my posts!

★ from this point on, July 20 2024, I will STOP writing for bands. Extremely sorry but it makes me uncomfortable to be writing about real, living people. I will continue to do games however!

★last updated: September 15, 2024★

Before we get into this, info for requests and such!

★ I do nsfw, angst, fluff, ECT.

★ I do NOT allow/do racism, homophobia, rape, icky bodily fluids, anal, beastiality, etc.

★ I will do character x character, character x reader, character x character x reader!

★ hope this makes sense!!

+ if I missed anything I'm so sorry!

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Bands I do

Guns n Roses

Mötley Crüe

KISS

Hanoi Rocks

Megadeth

(No longer writing bands)

Other

Call of Duty mw2-mw3

Red Dead Redemption 1-2

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Mötley Crüe

All of them together x reader

Mötley x reader hc's

🖤Nikki Sixx🖤

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

Taking care of him after tour

Fourth of July with mötley

You pampering mötley

Big ol' crybaby

Doing so good

⛓️Mick Mars⛓️

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

How to take care of him after tour

Fourth of July with mötley

Please, stay

Bubble bath- with cats?

Peachy Keen

You pampering mötley

Mick Mars x Reader injury (appendix, I think)

NSFW hc's

🌜Vince Neil🌛

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

Fourth of July with mötley

You pampering mötley

NSFW Alphabet

❤️‍🔥Tommy Lee❤️‍🔥

Sick mötley x reader

Mötley dealing with you being drunk

Fourth of July with mötley

You pampering mötley

You're still beautiful

🥀Terror Twins x Reader💣

Terror Twins x Reader hc's 1

Terror twins x Reader hc's 2

Terror Twins x reader hc's 3

Terror Twins x reader hc's 4

Terror Twins x reader hc's 5

Terror Twins x reader hc's 6

Sick!Terror Twins x reader hc's

My turn

So, so good

Cuddle..sex?

Calm down, ey?

(y'all are so hungry for Terror Twins omg...)

Hanoi Rocks

🌚Razzle🌝

Late night kisses

🕸️Sami Yaffa🕸️

NSFW Alphabet

Such a tease, huh?

KISS

💫Paul Stanley💫

Snow

Guns n Roses

🎩Slash🐍

Do you love me more?

They fell asleep with your kid

❤️Axl Rose💋

They fell asleep with your kid

Axl x Kurt Cobian sister!Reader hc's

NSFW Alphabet

Cold baby?

Bad day?

🎸Duff McKagan🎸

They fell asleep with your kid

🚬Izzy Stradlin🚬

Sick as a dog

Sweetheart

They fell asleep with your kid

🍿Steven Adler🍿

The, fell asleep with your kid

Paradise City

NSFW Alphabet

Megadeth

🍃Dave Mustaine🍃

Your not my baby

Tour rat

NSFW Alphabet

Dating Dave head cannons

Call of Duty (COD)

🦴Alex Keller🦴

Coming soon!!

🖤Simon "ghost" Riley🖤

Reader with sensory issues

💣König💣

Dating him head cannons

Roommate könig

🧼John "Soap" Mactavish🧼

Coming soon!!

🌜Farah Karim🌛

Coming soon!!

🥃John Price🥃

Coming soon!!

🦎Nikto🦎

Red Dead Redemption (2)

Coming soon!!

🦌Arthur Morgan🦌

If they were parents

🦬Charles Smith🦬

If they were parents

🃏Dutch Van Der Linde🃏

If they were parents

🐀Micah Bell🐀

If they were parents 2

🎸Javier Escuella🎸

If they were parents

🐎Kieran Duffy🐎

If they were parents 2

🐺John Marston🐺

Coming soon!!

🖤Jack Marston🖤 (1911)

If they were parents 2

🪶Eagle Flies🪶

Coming soon!!

🍷Molly 0'Shea🍷

If they were parents

🔪Sadie Adler🔪

If they were parents

🪻Abigail Roberts🪻

Coming soon!!

☘️Sean Macguire☘️

If they were parents 2

Character x Character

Coming soon!!