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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 3 months

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I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone.

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg.

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad.

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed.

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself.

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way.

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town.

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived.

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months.

The smell of the outdoors.

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.”

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.

#I really need to calm myself when people request drabbles but I can't #I knoooow I SHOULD learn to restrict myself but eeeeh #I'm already quite restricted into my everyday life so I let myself get carried away when I write oopsie #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fluff #request #pinefic

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sir-adamus · 9 months

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this isn't directed at anyone specifically, as this is a sentiment i've seen a lot, but i think some people were expecting some kind of catharsis in regards to Neo being punished or just straight up dying in the volume 9 finale because they don't personally like and are therefore dismissive of the character; and then making claims that it was bad writing that she didn't get the shit kicked out of her and was then killed, but instead getting to bow out gracefully and taking the first step to improve on herself and find herself again (which, i have to say, is not a redemption, the claims of 'bad writing' always paint it as such which is weird to me - it's like, the start, at best)

and i've been seeing this sentiment for months and, from the perspective of someone who never really had an issue with the character and liked the way she was handled, every time i've always had the same question of like, is it bad? or do you just not like it? cos let's be real that's been a major, major problem in this fandom for years, and even the people who complain about it coming from the loud vocal minority are often guilty of similar behaviour, just in more 'acceptable' ways

there was this really good post i reblogged the other day, which i'll link here, which basically covers my general feelings on this in regards to media in general, but in specific regard to the show;

a) the main characters' priorities have never been on personal payback, and neither has the show's (which it makes a point with several times, with Yang and Blake giving Adam multiple opportunities to stop and just leave as just an example, which he doesn't take), so there's no reason for them to go after Neo when she's no longer a threat

b) by the time WBY would've had the opportunity to 'punish' Neo for everything she did, Neo was possessed, and in the aftermath of that, was no longer hostile to them because of the events leading up to her getting possessed in the first place

RWB/Y is a show with lots of thematic resonance, we see parallels and layers and one of the major themes in the show is grief, and how you handle it; in the Ever After, Neo serves as a microcosm of Salem - she lost the one positive (though ultimately co-dependent and not particularly healthy) relationship she had after a horrible childhood of isolation and instead of coming to terms with her grief, she dedicates herself to revenge (which was her characterisation click moment when she returned in volume 6, as that return actually gave her motivations and a goal, versus how she was in volumes 2 and 3, where she was just kinda there and didn't have all that much to her) and it consumes her, so when she actually does get that revenge she wanted, instead of there being any kind of catharsis, she's just left hollow and empty because she has nothing left, which leaves her open to getting possessed by the Cat

but after being freed from possession, Neo has no reason to keep fighting because of that prior realisation, and comes to the conclusion that she needs to move on, with the best opportunity to do so being letting the Tree help her. and this is what loops back to the post i linked; Neo is given the option to stop and change and she takes it

does it come too late? sure - but by the same note, better late than never. besides, the Ever After is a fairytale world where the normal rules don't apply, so 'late' isn't as damning as it would've been

#rwb/y #sometimes i think people really can't handle or even really grasp what a redemption arc is #because their usual frame of reference is Zuko who never quite managed to do anything actually awful #a character has to actually be a bad enough person that them improving on themselves would /be/ a redemption #additionally i think people jump the gun a bit on dismissing certain character turns /as/ redemptions #when often it's just the first steps to making a change #actually i think people are just jumping the gun in general #and getting unnecessarily hostile over interpretations they don't agree with #calm down have a snack #it's just a show #you should really just relax

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