#rdr online fic

[isaadleer]

morning care ✩

Summary: Arthur proposes to do something different with you, maybe the theater. Turns out you both really did something different. Warning!¡ : Smut, unprotected sex. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

The bed was messy, with wrinkled white sheets and your favorite blue blanket. Sunlight filtered through the window, disturbing your eyes and waking you up, along with the roosters outside crowing as they did every day.

You and Arthur ran away together when the gang broke up. He wanted a peaceful life, and so did you. Now you live with him on a ranch near Strawberry. It’s not as luxurious as your dreams, but it’s something you love and are grateful for every day.

Looking for Arthur in the bed, you only find the empty space beside you. Normally, he always wakes up after you since he works on the ranch all day, but this time he wasn’t holding you while he slept or talking in his sleep, which was very common.

You found the situation strange, so you sat up in bed, now looking around the room. Your feet made contact with the cold floor, sending chills through your body, especially since you were only wearing a beige satin nightgown. As soon as you got up, you went in search of your dear Arthur, who wasn’t in bed or the room.

You opened the wooden door, touching the cold doorknob, just like the tips of your fingers. At first, you smelled food and found Arthur in the kitchen using the stove, which was very strange because he neither had the habit nor the skills for cooking.

Walking up to him silently in the kitchen, you hugged him from behind, startling him a bit and making his heart race.

“What are you doing here?” you said lovingly, squeezing him tighter.

“It was supposed to be a surprise…” he said frustrated, trying to look at you behind him.

You started giving small kisses on his back. “You weren’t in bed, so I came looking for you.”

“Come on, sit at the table, and I’ll serve you.” He stirred the pan, which seemed to contain eggs and some type of meat.

Following his order, you went to the dining table and sat in the chair closest to him. A comfortable silence settled between you while Arthur served breakfast. He sat in front of you, looking at you.

“I tried my best with these eggs, but you know I’m not great in the kitchen,” he commented with a little laugh.

“Let’s see…” With a fork in your hand, you took some of the egg and put it in your mouth.

The taste of burnt food and an overwhelming amount of salt spread across your palate; he was right that he wasn’t skilled in the kitchen, but you couldn’t show it—after all, you loved how he tried to show affection.

Looking at him, and he looking at you, as you painfully chewed the food, he nervously fiddled with his hands and raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response or comment from you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing your not-so-good reaction.

“Completely okay!” you said, still chewing, adjusting your expression, and giving a big smile.

“Are you sure?” he insisted.

“Of course,” you quickly replied. “It’s wonderful, really. Thank you so much, Arthur.”

He smiled at you, proud and believing that you really enjoyed it, and you did—just not the taste of the food. Maybe you should teach him how to cook someday, but even so, you’re very happy with his act of love.

“I was thinking, how about we sneak off today from this rancher’s life, just you and me?” he proposed, looking into your eyes.

“What do you mean?” you asked him, smiling.

“We could go to town, maybe to the theater. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone out.” He explained to you.

“Really?” you replied enthusiastically, getting up from the chair you had been sitting on just a few seconds ago.

“I want you to come with me, please?” He said with pleading eyes.

You walked up to him in your nightgown and sat on his lap, excited with a smile on your face.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” you said, getting closer to his face.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, looking into your eyes before finding your lips with his, tasting the mix of coffee and his morning cigarettes.

After all these years, you still feel the same butterflies in your stomach as when you were young, every time he kisses you, every time he touches you, every time he hugs you.

Breaking the kiss, you suggested, “Then we better get ready to go to town!” Very excited, you tried to get up, but his hands on your waist stopped you, pulling you back into his lap.

“I think the town can wait a little while, darling,” he said suggestively, placing his hands on your face and caressing it.

“Oh,” you said before kissing him again, more intensely this time, feeling every part of his mouth. Your hands moved to his neck, running through his hair, sending shivers down his spine.

Carrying you bridal style, he took you back to the bedroom and laid you on the bed where you had been sleeping not long ago. He hovered over you, giving short kisses along your neck, drawing sighs from you. The kisses started to trail down your neck to your breasts, still covered by your nightgown.

“Take this off for me, sweetheart,” he asked you, and that’s exactly what you did. Revealing your warm body to the cold air of the house.

He admired your entire body, looking at every part of it and smiling like a fool. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

Returning to the short kisses, which turned into long ones, he took one of your breasts, massaging it with one hand while his fingers slipped under the fabric of your underwear with the other hand, making you reach for the buttons of his shirt. You unbuttoned each one until his strong, muscular chest was exposed. Unable to resist, you placed your hands on his chest, caressing it.

His fingers felt the wetness over the fabric of your underwear, making him look at you with hungry eyes. His finger slipped between your folds and curled inside you. Your hands left his chest, searching for his cock, and you started to touch him, urging him on. But you couldn’t for long because of the intense pleasure you were feeling. He took his time with you, adding another of his big fingers while his gaze stayed on your pleasure-filled face, watching you contort.

It didn’t take you long to lose your composure, and you sought out his lips, chasing them in a hungry kiss that made a naughty smile appear on his face. You moaned into his mouth when his fingers left you, and he wiped them on his tongue.

“Take me, please Arthur,” you whispered, your eyes on his.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Hastily, he undid his pants, revealing his impressive cock, which you would never get used to, no matter how many times you take him.

Quickly, you switched positions, ending up on top of him, catching him by surprise.

You wrapped your hand around Arthur’s cock, twisting and pumping your hand around it to get it evenly wet. “Shit,” Arthur groaned, a smirk appearing on your face as you heard him. You adjusted yourself until you were perfectly over Arthur’s cock and guided yourself until his tip entered. Your body tensed, and you noticed Arthur’s body tighten as well. You lowered yourself more, as his cock filled you. “Good girl,” he praised you.

Your hands supported you on Arthur’s chest as you filled yourself of him. Arthur’s hands were on your hips, helping you ride him. “Oh, fuck!” you bit your lip as you moved your hips around, grinding yourself on Arthur as he thrust.

Your nails dug into Arthur’s chest. His eyes watched your breasts move with you, bouncing as you rode him. Unable to resist, he took one of them in his hands and began to massage it slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

As your climax grew, your body wanting to hit its high, you started to move faster, literally riding him, making Arthur’s head fall back as his own climax hit.

The mix of your moans with Arthur’s groans was a song to your ears, as his cum warmed you. Your nails dug in harder as your body tensed at the height of your orgasm, relaxing your muscles.

Both of you, breathless as if you’d run a marathon, kissed, now a passionate kiss rather than the hungry ones from before.

You threw yourself beside Arthur on the bed, tired, and moved closer, resting your head on his chest. Your fingers began playing with his hair as you caught your breath.

“Why don’t we leave going to town for tomorrow?” you said, smiling through your breathing. Stopping your fingers from playing, Arthur began to caress your sweaty hands.

“I think we have more interesting things here,” You stopped him with a playful slap on his chest, laughing shyly.

“Stop it, you fool!”

[paranorahjones]

My newest project has begun.

Introducing Destry Cole, dog of war.

[goodolrogering]

Hello everyone!

So, I really want to get back into writing and I would love to start off by fic writing again....

Sooo, that means I'm accepting requests for Arthur. Really anything goes, in the sense of I'm better off with most topics with GN! Or F! Characters.

Currently have my asks open, probably for the next week or so, if you want to request something please send it in and I'll get to it as soon as I can!

❤️😊

[assless-chapstick]

idk what it is but I always feel like "modern" au stuff for rdr should take place in like, the 90s or early 2000s like

maybe it's cuz that's when I was a kid and it's a time I'm nostalgic for, when things felt simpler and plainer and uncomplicated and it's the closest I ever felt to a country life? or maybe it's just the characters and the story is one about eras and change and something about it just speaks to the turn of a century

I really wanna read like a fic that takes place in like 1999 like... the dot com boom is booming and dutch is trying to figure out how to use this new fangled Internet to pull schemes... he hits the boys up on their pagers when he needs them... hides his money in Tahitian banks for the tax breaks

unfortunately I was just a kid in 1999 I remember very little so I'd have to... actually do research 🤢

I mostly just remember the spice girls and spaghetti strap dresses and the sound the computer made when it was starting up... and how if my mom picked up the phone while I was online it was OVER

john wearing those fuckin giant cargo pants and listening to fuckin creed or something on his gd walkman

[marttapav]

im this👌🏽fucking close to making a whole drawing for this dumbass rdr self insert/oc BUT NO ONE CARES ABOUT SHIT LIKE THAT AND IT FEELS CRINGE TO POST THAT SHIT ONLINE FOR THE WHOLE WORLD TO SEE. i wish i was good at writing the fics would be so bomb istg 😤

[bogchampion]

welcome to the bog :]

hi everyone! you've found the bog blog, enjoy your stay

my name is, in fact, bog. i'm 31, don't really have any interest in gender but use they/them (gendered terms of any sort are okay if it's specifically for a meme or a bit). these days i'm bi with maybe some ace mixed in? who knows. spoken for irl so it's a moot point.

i'm full of autism, adhd, depression, and god knows what else. online is a bit of a comfort zone for me, as outside of that i'm doing my best to be a functioning adult despite the horrors.

my main interests are fish, fallout, and my ocs!

there are also loads of other medias and games i enjoy, although i don't tend to engage in broad fandoms much. i'm not here for discourse, just fun art and characters ok.

a sampling of other stuff i enjoy: pokemon, dungeon meshi, subnautica, rango, pacific rim, anything western or cowboys, borderlands, analog horror, and more :]

i don't post half as much about my ocs as i should, but they really are my favorite thing these days, and love getting asks or messages about them. i am normal and can be trusted not to infodump /lying

i LOVE making my ocs interact with others ok!! i love shipping with them, i love playing dolls with them as friends, might even be down to make enemies, just lemme release them into enclosures.

i also write a bit and host fics, mostly about tris so far, on my ao3

Tristan O'Connell (fallout/gen) | tag: #tristan coded

Vin Emilienne (no particular setting) | tag: #vincore

Emilija Vance (gen/fallout/tf2- old lmao) | tag: #vance tf2 real

Magnum McPherson (fallout) | tag: #magsposting

Jules (fallout 3) | tag: #jules type shit

Thorne Blackwater (gothic horror) | tag: #thorne on main

Josiah Shepherd (cowboy/rdr) | tag: #its jover

other personal tags: #bog shut up (text and vent posts), #due to the autism (posts i find relevant to my conditions), #posts about me specifically (should be obvious). i'm not great at tagging much beyond that tbh

oh and btw: no terfs, no fascists, and no republicans! i'm anti-ai, anti-capitalism, anti-exclusion, pro-union, pro-sex, pro-piracy, pro-fishional.

[cutepervert]

hello i am giu

i see the modus operandi in these parts as of late (i’m an og semi retired tumblr user it was a different place back in the late aughts / early teens) is to pin a post introducing yourself so this is me doing that

i am giu (she/her), i am old, this is not a space for children there will be nsfw, all that stuff. this blog is and will be tore up from the floor up as they say

i’m an aquarius sun sagittarius moon libra rising this is the ideal big three no i will not be taking notes

fandoms rn are GTA and RDR i am a rockstar whore and probably always will be

i live in nyc i make ~*content*~ for a living . no its not nearly as fun as my colleagues online make it out to be (does ~*this*~ give away my age)

i am also a writer and using fanfiction to avoid finishing the novel i've been working on because i kind of hate her guts rn (shes sooo boring and for what) you can find me on AO3 as @terrible420

on here im poasting my fic, my homies' fics, fanart, memes, et cetera. maybe some Deep Ruminations about the games that I feel are a bit much to be putting on main (already ive had to put a fatwa on poasting rdr/gta content on my ig bc its ridiculous).

**if you play rdo or gtao on ps4 PLEASE hit my ask box , i need friends who aren't going to scream in voice chat or be bad at heists iykwim

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

Hunters of Flesh and Money: Part 3

Trelawny has another job for you, but this job comes with a familiar comrade. 

Arthur Morgan x Reader

“Shit,” You sighed as you dropped the corpse back down to the ground. Nine cents was all the poor bastard had. With a wipe of the brow you lifted the body and threw it into Flat Iron Lake, it will wash ashore in a couple of days but by then it would be impossible to track down the culprit. If there was one constant in your work it was your thoroughness.

With a sharp whistle, Garbanzo flew around the bend. When you reached into your pocket for your handkerchief you audibly cursed. It was lost somewhere between here and Roanoak Ridge so you washed your gloves and arms best you could in the lake. The water was warm and murky, not ideal for cleaning.

Garbanzo rested his head against your shoulder and you dried your hands to give him a pat. “Sun’s still high,” You said to the big horse. “Think we got time to go visit our old friend?”

The horse did not respond, but it really wasn’t up to him. Lemoyne was hot as ever, your clothes stuck to every inch of skin they touched and left you feeling sticky and uncomfortable. The smell of body odor was wafting into your nostrils with every gallop, maybe it was time for a bath. As you approached the center of town, you paused. Trelawny was still staying in his caravan north of Rhodes, it wouldn’t take long to meet him.

As you entered the saloon, you were greeted by the same old saloon gals, they were always happy to see you- it wasnt often they were paid in money and pleasure. Your favorite girl, a young blond waved at your from atop the spiral staircase. “Hey honey,” she called. “You here for me?”

You laughed, “not tonight sweetheart,” you placed a coin on the bar and slid it to the owner. “Just a bath today.”

The man behind the counter nodded, “Sylvia will have it ready for ya, you know where to go.”

You nodded, “Thanks Pete.”

Rhodes had become your semi-permanent home, as much as it bothered you to stay in once place for too long Sadie’s company was enough to keep you grounded. You would meet her at the saloon regularly, she would tell you about he people she rode with and you would tell her about the jobs you had been taking. She would bring up Arthur often, you tried not to linger on the subject. You hadn’t seen him since the night he came and checked on you and Trelawny after the whole kidnapping incident. You had made the mistake of admitting to Sadie he was a handsome man and she wouldn’t let you live it down since. She seemed to think you were a perfect match but the thought of being intimate with another person was scary. You had only loved once, and it ended with her being put six feet under because of you. When you needed a fix, saloon girls and random strangers at the bar were enough. It was safer for the men and women you slept with to remain anonymous, for their own good.

You couldn’t help the sigh of pleasure as you slipped your body into the warm water. The bubbles tickled your nostrils as you submerged yourself. It had been far too long since your last bath, you made a mental note to do this more often. As you began scrubbing your head, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Need some help, darlin’?”

You smiled at the beautiful blonde headed woman. “Well now, you know I cain’t deny you Ms. Sylvia.”

She giggled as she dipped her hands into the water, “it’s been so long since you called for me I reckoned you forgot bout me.”

“Forget bout you? Never.” Her hands glided across your arms and you melted under her touch. “I just been busy, you know me always gettin’ into somethin’.”

“Well, at least make an effort to come in for a bath every once ‘n a while, you’re covered in dirt head to toe!” Her hands moved down your back and rubbed slowly. Her lips were close to your ear now as she whispered, “you’re mighty tense honey, you sure you don’t want a bed for the night? No charge.”

She placed the softest of kisses behind your ear and you inhaled sharply. “No charge, huh?”

“That’s right.” Her lips were moving down your neck now.

“Well, who could deny that? I think I’m all clean now.”

You started to pull yourself from the tub and she pushed you back down with a soft chuckle, “not yet you ain’t, no need to be impatient, we got all night.”

You couldn’t refuse that, so you relaxed under her nimble fingers. Trelawny could wait until tomorrow.

The beams from the morning sun poured in the window and woke you. Sylvia was already gone, slipped out after you passed out. It was better this way, it was too dangerous to get attached. You stared at the ceiling as you puffed a cigarette, in your twenties these flings were nothing, but now? Now you just felt tired. Strangers and night women didn’t fill the void like they used to, with age the hole in your chest grew wider and wider. But this life doesn’t allow a family, doesn’t allow the deeper vulnerability that comes with love. Not without a price, and you had already paid it once.

You stretched and pulled yourself from the bed. Your clothes were scattered about the floor and you yawned as you retrieved them. “Shit,” you whispered as you fummed with the buttons on your shirt; the last button had popped off in the frenzy of lusting hands. You examined yourself in the mirror, your clothes were worn and dusty. Little holes were beginning to wear in the arm pits of your shirt. The closest tailor was in Saint Denis, and god did you hate it there. It would almost be worth the ride all the way to Blackwater just to avoid the congested city. But that would have to wait, you needed money.

The downside to staying so close to town for the sake of your old friend was the lack of animals around Rhodes. Sure there were plenty of deer- whitetails and pronghorn a plenty but you lived for big game. Elk, bears, cougars- that was what gave you the thrill and most importantly they were the big money makers. Maybe after you get done with Trelawny you would write to Sadie and let her know you were heading North West for a couple of weeks. Surely she would be safe with the others. You felt silly, of course she would be safe they saved her when she needed them most. This gave you a pang of guilt, had you been there for her when she needed you, maybe Jake would still be alive right now and maybe she wouldn’t look like a dead woman walking. A part of you wanted to stick around, but you couldn’t revolve your life around her and she wouldn’t want you to.

When you exited the saloon, you headed for the stable. Garbanzo whinnied excitedly when he saw you enter. The man working the stable looked up from grooming his horse. “Take it you’re here for pick up?”

You nodded. He pointed lazily towards the stall. “It’s unlocked, you can go ahead and grab ‘em.” He stood. “That’s one well behaved horse ya got there.”

You gave him a pat, “that’s my beanie boy.” You turned to the stable hand. “You damn right, best horse I ever had.”

You paid the stable hand well and led the hulking horse outside. The morning sun was rising steadily and the heat rose by the minute. As you rode to the bundle of caravans, you tried to remain in as much shade as possible; the midsummer heat was damn near unbearable.

When you approached, Trelawny was in his same spot reading his same book. He looked up as you dismounted. “Ah, hello old friend!”

“Hey there Trelawny. Looks like yer bout done with that book there.”

“Ah yes,” he folded down the page and closed it. “I assume you aren’t here to discuss literature.”

You chuckled and rubbed your neck, “naw, but I’ll always listen. Used to be a reader myself before I got in knee deep with the law.”

He extended the book to you, “here take it, that is if you’re still literate.”

You waved your hands in denial, “You ain’t gotta do that, I could pick up a book next time I find one.”

“But I insist! I’ve read this one so many times I know what the next word is before I read it.” His tone turned solemn. “Please, take it. Think of it as a small payment for my eternal debt to you.”

You scratched your nose as you took the book. “Thank you, Josiah. I’ll be sure to read it.” You leaned against the railing of the small porch. “You got anything for me to do today?”

“Ah yes,” he straightened in his seat. “You’re an avid hunter, yes?”

You looked at the pile of furs on your horse and turned back to Trelawny with a smirk. “Guess you could say that.”

“Well how do you feel about hunting down some wolves?”

You spat on the ground. “Shit, I’ll kill anything worth killin’.”

He nodded, “good, good. A farmer down at Bolger Glade is paying well for the skins of the wolves who have taken a liking to his farm. Says they’ve been eating up his livestock.”

With a nod you mounted your horse. “Sounds like my kinda job. Ain’t far from here neither. I’ll come back when I get done if it ain’t too late.”

“I look forward to your return.”

You tipped your hat to him and you were off. Trelawny watched you disappear over the horizon. Something was nagging him, he immediately felt uneasy about sending you by yourself.

You frowned at the bloodied corpse. He sure looked like a farmer, with a grimace you wondered if there would be anyone to pay you. Well, if anything the butch will pay well for the furs. The tracks were a winding mess and the farther you followed, the more evident it was this was more than a couple of lone wolves. You clutches your rifle tight, a wolf can be taken down easily with one shot but with this many you were beginning to feel uneasy.

You followed the tracks to a pile of bones, covered in teeth marks. You counted at least four sets of tracks. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before, you inhaled then exhaled deeply. As you stood, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. As you turned you heard the snarl. Coming on you fast we’re three big grey wolves. You backed away as you put a bullet in the skull of the first. As you reloaded, you whistled for your horse. The second wolf was almost on you when you shot it clean between the eyes. The third followed right behind, hardly giving you time to reload. It knocked you to the ground, but not before you pressed the gun to its chest and fired. Luckily it only knocked you to the ground, no blood was shed. Your eyes studied the woods around you, one more wolf was left, that you were certain. You whistled again, where was Garbanzo?

You turned around to search, the big animal didn’t scare easily but wolves were one of the few exceptions. He was on the far side of the field, trotting wearily towards you. Another growl from behind you drew your attention back to the woods. It was fast, but not fast enough. You had already reloaded and the wolf was making a beeline straight for you, an easy kill. A single bullet and the wolf fell forward. With another look around, you finally allowed yourself to relax. As you began skinning the first wolf, Garbanzo trotted up behind you. When you loaded the skin, you gave him a pat. Most of the pelts were quite perfect, except the one that knocked you to your feet. You frowned at the poor pelt as you examined it before stowing it.

The last wolf was the farthest away, lying just on the edge of the wood. You wiped the sweat from your brow and skinned the wolf quickly. It was afternoon now and the heat was sweltering. As you slid your knife along the spine of the wolf, Garbanzo whinnied. “I’m bout done, ‘Banzo just hold on.”

A branch snapped behind you, you looked up in time to see the huge black wolf mid-jump. Before you could react, it’s claws were in your back. You threw your elbow back hard and knocked it to the ground. Your rifle was back on the horse, you drew your knife. In order to time it right, you would have to make a risky move and allow yourself to act as bait. You crouched low to the ground as the wolf circled you, you circled with it so it couldn’t pounce your back again. With a snarl and a bark it charged. Lightning fast, the wolf was on top of you, one arm held up above your body to protect yourself, the other plunged the knife through the wolf’s jaw. You winced as you pushed the dead weight off you. When you touched your back, you could feel where the wolf’s claws tore through your shirt. Your hand was covered in blood. It’s hind claws tore through your pant leg on your thigh, leaving angry red scratches. Luckily for you, it didn’t break skin.

You quickly loaded the big black wolf into your horse, better to find a safe place to skin it than risk a run in with another wolf. Mounting Garbanzo, you pushed him hard back to Trelawny’s caravan.

You arrived back early evening, you couldn’t feel the blood trickling down your back anymore so you assumed it had stopped bleeding. You had used all your bandaging last week, you prayed Trelawny had some. As you approached, you saw another man standing on the porch talking with Trelawny. Those broad shoulders looked familiar, when he turned you recognized him.

“Howdy fellers,” you greeted the men as you hitched your horse.

“Howdy,” Arthur repeated back with a wave.

Trelawny stood, “Ah, hello my dear girl! Seems as though those wolves didn’t give up much a fight.”

You chuckled lightly and turned and pointed to your back. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Trelawny inhaled sharply, Arthur took two long strides and inspected your back thoroughly, “Shit, you okay?”

You weren’t used to physical contact with other people, his soft prodding hands made you feel uncomfortable but you didn’t shift from under them. “I’ll be fine, may need some new clothes though.” You turned back to face them and looked pointedly down at the gashes in your pants. “I’d say these are done for.”

Trelawny chuckled. “I would be inclined to agree. It’s about time, I thought you’d be in those rags til the day you died.”

You shrugged, “probably. You got any spare bandage I can borrow? Pretty sure the bleeding stopped, just don’t want it to get infected.”

Trelawny frowned, “I’m afraid not my dear.”

You sighed, “guess I could shred this shirt for bandage-“

Arthur interrupted, pulling a roll of bandage and a bottle of whiskey from his satchel. “I gotcha. Sit on down.”

You sat on the crate in front of the fire, his big hands gently pulled the shirt up above the claw marks without revealing your chest. “This okay?” He asked.

You just nodded, his rough hands were surprisingly gentle. You winced in pain as he poured whiskey in the gashes. “Sorry.” He whispered.

“S’ okay.”

He made quick work dressing the wound. You were glad to be facing away from him, his touch filled your brain with static and sent a wave of heat across your face. It was very strange, you didn’t know how to feel about it. When he finished, he pulled your shirt back down and gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Yer good.”

You stood and nodded to him, “Thanks.”

Trelawny cleared his throat, “You wouldn’t happen to be feeling up for another job would you?”

You scratched your head, “depends, does it involve wolves?”

Trelawny laughed heartily. “No, not at all. It should be very easy for you, I just need you and Mr. Morgan here to deliver some supplies.” He scratched his nose. “It really needs to be delivered to Emerald Ranch before sun down. I’m sure Arthur here can handle it on his own though if you aren’t-“

“Nah, I can do it.” You said as you stood. “Emerald Ranch ain’t too far from here anyways, long as there ain’t no distractions we should be able to get there ‘fore night fall.”

“Wonderful!” Trelawny exclaimed. “The wagon is just behind that caravan there.” He pointed past the neighboring shack. “Hurry along now, you’re losing time!”

“Yeah, yeah we’re goin’.” You rolled your eyes as you hitched your horse. “Well be back soon now, ya hear?” He responded with a huff.

“You ready?” Arthur asked as you joined him beside the fire. You nodded.

As you turned Trelawny called back, “be careful this time! You won’t get paid if you wreck the wagon again!”

Arthur smirked, “Again?”

You crossed your arms and your lips pulled into a mischievous grin. “Ain’t never quite got the hang of wagons, always try and go too fast around corners.” You scratched your chin, “come to think of it, I don’t think Trelawny’s given me a delivery job in months. Not since I almost killed myself crashin’ a wagon full a dynamite.”

Arthur laughed as he climbed up the wagon. “No offense, but I think I’d be more comfortable if I drove.”

“None taken,” you said as you took your seat beside him. You pulled your shot gun off your shoulder and into your lap. “And no offense to you Mr. Morgan, but I think I’m better suited as the strong arm anyways.”

His brows flew into his hairline as he scoffed, “I dunno bout that one.” His tone went to a more joking manner. “‘Sides, I’d say my arms are stronger than yours.”

With his free arm he flexed with a goofy smile. He did indeed have very nice arms. You cleared your throat and mirrored his flex. “What’s that phrase, bout the size of the ship?”

He laughed, “It ain’t the size of the ship, it’s the motion of the ocean?” Another laugh. “Guess there’s some truth behind that.”

You giggled, “you seem pretty familiar with the phrase, you use it a lot for compensation?”

Arthur’s face turned bright red and he began to stammer when your eyes glanced pointedly at his trousers. “No-“ he started, more defensive than he meant to sound. “No, I don’t think I got much to worry bout in that department.” His tone sounded more smug.

You chuckled, “Good on you, Mr. Morgan.”

“I ain’t never cared for the whole Mr. This and Ms. That, ya know.”

“Sorry, Mr.” You cut yourself off. “Sorry Arthur.” You looked up at the sky. “Ain’t much stuck with me as far as manners go, ain’t quite sure why but that’s just bout the only thing I remember my parents tellin’ me.”

“You ain’t gotta apologize, I understand.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Guess I don’t really remember much a what my ma tried ta teach me. Ma daddy ain’t never taught me much more than to be a thief.” He turned back to you, “Is Fletcher yer real name?”

“Is Tacitus Kilgore yours?”

“Fair enough. But you know my real name.”

You returned his gaze. “Ain’t nothin’ to a name. Just another word people use to talk boutcha behind yer back.”

He nodded, “Ain’t quite thought of it that way.”

You nodded and a silence fell over the ride. The bench seat of the wagon was terribly short. Arthur’s thigh was pressed against yours and with every tremble of the wagon you could feel his body against yours. You kept your eyes forward and tried to ignore the static in your brain. As the sun fell behind the trees, the sky was filled with bright orange and red, the clouds were pink and lilac. As your eyes wandered, you caught Arthur rubbing a bald spot on his chin. “That a scar?”

Your question seemed to pull him from his trance like thoughts. “Huh?”

“On your chin there,” you pointed to it. “Is it a scar?”

“Oh, yeah.” He smoothed the hair around his chin line as he spoke. “Got thrown off a horse one day and got skidded up pretty bad. Took a nice little chunk outta my chin and sprained my wrist.” He nodded to the scar that ran across your right cheek. “What bout you?”

“Cougar, our near Strawberry back in ‘88. First time huntin’ a big cat.” You chuckled, “learned the hard way to never leave your back open, and always pack one of these.” You dug in your satchel and pulled out a mask. Arthur laughed, it wasn’t pretty that’s for sure. It was nothing more than a thick parchment with a crude face and strings that tied in the back. The artwork was terrible, but Arthur would never say it. “What in the hell is that gonna do?”

“Well,” You said as you tied the mask to the back of your head. “Met a man from India years back, he said their cats back home are even bigger than cougars. I didn’t really believe him, but he showed me a picture in a book. Looks like a mean son of a bitch. He said his people made masks to wear on the back of their heads, keeps ‘em from sneakin’ up behind ya.” You turned your head to show Arthur the mask, “don’t even have to be a good lookin’ one, as long as it has a face.”

Arthur was stunned, “and that really works?”

You nodded, “ain’t had one jump me from behind since.”

“Amazing” he whispered.

You nodded and put the mask away. “Learned a lotta tricks of the trade in my years. Makin’ money off the land can be just as deadly as makin’ money off the people.” You lifted your shirt to reveal a round scar above your stomach. “Got too close to a Whitetail Buck during mating season. Always thought I’d get pummeled by a bison or eaten by a bear before I got stabbed by a damn deer.”

Arthur averted his eyes from your skin quickly, even on your stomach you were riddled with scars. It reminded him of his own body, a body he always thought was grotesque and ugly because of his scars. So why didn’t he find your scars so horrible to look at? He didn’t want to find the answer. He coughed, “looks like we’re bout there.” He paused for a moment then brought his spare hand to his brow and squinted towards the horizon. “Hold on a minute, we may have company. You got that shotgun loaded?”

You gave it a solid pump. “Always.”

He kept his eyes on the horsemen ahead. The path went up a small hill and at the very top, two men were stationary on their horse; that’s always a suspicious sign. As the wagon approached, Arthur could clearly see the men were holding guns. “Yep,” he sighed. “Definitely got some company. Keep a level head, if they let us clear we-“

You had also examined the horsemen on the hill, you had also noticed the guns. Whether they were waiting for this wagon or not, their presence was not welcome by you. You stood and pulled the rifle from your back. Arthur’s eyes were trained on the men ahead and he was saying something, but you weren’t listening. You lined up your sights and landed a perfect headshot.

Arthur jumped in surprise to the loud pop of the gun. He watched as the first man fell. “What the hell are you doin’?”

As you lowered your gun to reload, the second man barreled down the trail, accompanied by six other men who appeared from the trees. You lined back up for another shot, “Ambushin’ them before they ambush us.”

“Shit!” Arthur cursed as your gun let out another loud shot. He began to pull out his pistol. You switched your rifle back out for the shot gun as the men approached firing range. “Just keep drivin’! I can take care a these guys you just make sure we get there in time!”

Arthur watched as your slugs blew back one body after another. He nodded and whipped the reins hard. Luckily for you, Arthur was a master driver; he maneuvered the wagon off the path and around trees and shrubs as you tore through the pursuers. Arthur hit a small rock and the bump almost threw you off the side, you let out a small yell before a big hand caught your wrist and pulled you back down on the bench seat. You nodded a quick thanks to Arthur before turning back and delivering the final blow. You kept an eye on your surroundings before finally relaxing and turning back to the front. “Okay, think we’re clear.”

Arthur nodded. “Just in time.” He pointed and just over the rolling hills of the Heartlands you saw the towering windmill of Emerald Ranch. Arthur pulled the wagon into the barn just as the sun was turning to a sliver over the horizon.

“Didn’t think you’d make it.” The man in the barn said as he handed Arthur a stack of cash.

He nodded, “wasn’t quite sure we would.”

“Have a good one!” He farm hand called as the two of you exited the barn.

Arthur silently counted the money and handed you half. He let out a sharp whistle. After a few minutes and a handful of whistles, a beautiful white Arabian came appeared from beyond the horizon. You turned to Arthur, “we not takin’ the wagon back to Trelawny?”

“Naw, it’s their wagon. I take it to load up and bring it back.”

“Shit, I left Banzo with Trelawny. There’s no way he’d hear me if I whistled for him.” You rubbed your neck and cursed again. “Guess I could rob the next unfortunate soul I see of their steed.”

Arthur mounted the horse, “ain’t no need for that,” he offered you his hand. “I can take ya back.”

You eyed the tiny horse suspiciously, Arthur looked huge on the little thing. “I dunno Arthur, that’s one tiny horse ya got there.”

He rolled his eyes, “not all of us ride mammoths, you know.”

You took his arm and he pulled you up, “What did you just call my horse?” You wrapped your arms around his waist and frowned. “Jesus Arthur, this is a child’s pony! Next real horse I see I’ll nab for ya.”

He chuckled, “I thank ya, but this ol’ girl is good enough for me.” He patted her neck. “Strong gal, this one is.” He paused. “Bet she could beat your ol boy in a race any day.”

You scoffed, “I’m sure she could, Garbanzo isn’t meant to be fast, he’s meant to be strong. He’s meant to be fearless.”

“You sure love that horse, don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes, “course I do, don’t you?”

He smiled, “yeah, I do. They really are somethin’ aren’t they?”

You nodded. “Loyal, beautiful, strong creatures. Everything we’re supposed to be. A horse has never lied to me, or killed someone I love. A horse has never betrayed me or sold me out. A perfect companion.”

Arthur nodded, “couldn’t agree with you more.”

By the time you arrived back to Trelawny’s humble abode, the moon was high and the crickets and cicadas were singing. He was no longer in his usual spot on the porch and the lamp inside was turned off.

“Probably asleep.” Arthur whispered as he peeked inside. “Yep, definitely asleep.”

“Good thing we already got paid.”

He nodded. A strange quiet fell between the two of you, not awkward or uncomfortable but not familiar either. You rubbed your arm uncomfortably and cleared your throat. “I should uh, I should go.”

Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Me too.”

You unhitched Garbanzo and as you passed Arthur you tipped your hat, he returned the gesture. It wasn’t a long ride back to your camp, when you arrived you crashed into your bedroll immediately. That night you dreamed of a familiar feeling you had long forgotten.

[lockewrites]

Sketches in the Rain

April 2022 Camp NaNoWriMo Day 1

OC x Arthur Morgan || SFW || 889 words AO3

Rose and Arthur wait out the storm in the woods, and Arthur keeps himself occupied with the scenery.

“We can wait it out in here,” Arthur said, leading his horse into the nearby woods.

Rose followed behind, her own horse following Arthur’s as it navigated over the brush and roots. They expected rain, the gray clouds had littered the sky since the morning, but the sudden deluge made it near-impossible to see just a few feet in front of them. 

Once a safe distance from the road, Arthur hitched his horse to a tree and Rose did the same, each sliding off their rides. Even under the canopy of branches and leaves, the rain snuck through every gap. Each drip into Rose’s soaked hair sent a shiver through her body. 

“I hope this shit don’t last,” Rose muttered as she wrung out the water from her braid. She looked up at Arthur approaching her, his boots squelching in the mud. “What?” she asked, her tone sharper than intended.

He let out a soft huff through his nose before grabbing his hat off his head and placing it on hers. 

Warmth filled her cheeks as she reached up to touch it.

“Can’t get a fire goin’, but…” He shrugged. “Might warm you up a bit.”

Rose blinked at him. “Thanks,” she said.

With a curt nod and something akin to a smile, he turned away from her and toward the direction of the road. It was odd seeing him without his gambler hat; he barely took it off even when in camp, but she was grateful for it, and a touch… well, ‘giddy’ wasn’t quite the right word, but she felt something silly like that. 

Arthur had taken a few steps out, standing with his hands on his hips watching the rain as though he could stop it through sheer will. Arthur was something, but Rose had little faith in his abilities to control the weather. She opted to sit on a rock that happened to be lying beside a tree; not much else to do besides sit and wait. And wait. And wait some more. 

Her companion rotated between pacing, petting the horses, trying his luck with giving the rain the stink-eye, and sighing in impatience. Rose didn’t offer much in the way of small talk; neither of them did. She didn’t care for it, and she figured Arthur didn’t either. Content with just listening to the rain and the sound of Arthur’s boots in the mud, Rose leaned back and let her chin fall against her sternum. The brim of Arthur’s hat obscured her view, so she simply closed her eyes and let the scent of wet dirt and rain and its soft serenade lull her to sleep. 

She heard a light scraping sound, but it was the lack of the sound of Arthur’s restlessness that woke her. She had no idea how long she’d slept. Panic gripped her moment until she looked up. Arthur was sat across from her, leaning against his own tree with his head buried in his notebook, his hand furiously scribbling away. 

He stopped, and she quickly dropped her head back down, appearing to still be asleep; she’d seen him write in that notebook often, though never saw what exactly he filled it with. Arthur would always stop to mark a particularly interesting spot or odd formation or building; Rose hadn’t any idea what was so interesting about the woods, but it didn’t hurt to give him the silence and privacy to finish up whatever he was writing. 

It was almost amusing, listening to the dragging of his pen stop for a few moments before frantically beginning again, only to stop some minutes later. The pattern continued for a while, and Rose was close to falling back to sleep until she heard his pen stop entirely. She waited a bit, expecting him to continue again, but he didn’t. 

Lifting her head, she saw him staring intently at the page. As if feeling her eyes on him, he glanced up and quickly closed his notebook.

“You find something worth writin’ about?” Rose asked.

A faint blush covered his rough cheeks and disappeared into his stubble. “Just passin’ time,” he grunted as he pushed himself up to his feet. 

“Rain’s stopped,” Rose remarked. “Could’a woke me up.”

“Figured you needed a rest if you managed to pass out on a rock,” he replied. “But since you’re up…” He held his hand out to her.

She took it, his hand strong and calloused against hers. He pulled her up effortlessly and she offered a short nod of thanks. They untied their horses and headed back toward the road. The ground was still soaked, and the air still smelled of a fresh storm, but the sun was bright, catching on the moisture in the sky and creating a rainbow in front of them. 

“So,” Rose began, looking over at Arthur, “what was it that you were writin’?”

“Nothin’,” he said. “Was drawin’.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then what were you drawin’?”

“The scenery.” He smirked.

“Trees. You drew trees.” Rose shook her head. “Gettin’ more’n two words outta you sometimes is like pullin’ teeth.”

“That hat fits you real good,” he said. “There you go.” He counted on his fingers. “Six words right there.”

Her eyes rolled again as her face warmed. “Right. Thanks.”

He chuckled, and they continued on down the road toward camp. 

[sternbagel]

I’ve been a little stuck on some of my other projects so I decided to flesh out another thing about my RDR OC that’s been sitting in my head for some time.

Notes: set in October 1898

TW: canon-typical violence, period-typical racism, probably incorrect translations Spanish phrases, very little editing

Companion to this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winter is on its way. She feels it, icy tendrils creeping into the October air as it whips around her, through the brush and the trees. It’s worse here, up in the westernmost part of the Grizzlies, where the many rocky cliffs provide little to no buffer against the high winds. No snow has fallen yet, too early in the season. But even when it does, it’ll continue to weigh heavy on bare branches long after the lowlands have begun to bloom again. 

She’ll return to lower altitude soon, ride out the worst of the winter somewhere warmer, like New Austin, maybe. Visit some friends, maybe. Take a break, definitely. But first, she has to finish the business that brought her up here in the first place. 

“There you are.”

Behind her, a horse snorts, impatient. She knows what’s coming, been through this enough times. The horse doesn’t enjoy the extra weight placed on her rump during the ride back to the sheriff’s, but she does appreciate the extra sugar cubes and apples she gets afterwards. And the nice, fresh stable she gets bedded down in that night while her rider gets a room at the closest hotel. It’s only ever one night before they’re back in the wilderness. Sometimes staying just outside town, but for that one night, they live in as much luxury as the area allows.

“Easy, Moonbay,” she whispers, standing up from the frozen tracks in the dirt. “Let’s go get him.”

She mounts the dapple black Thoroughbred and combs her fingers soothingly through her white mane. Her legs squeeze Moonbay’s sides three times, urging her into an easy canter. The mare’s got long strides, meaning it isn’t long before they come up on the rider’s target: a nasty piece of work she’s been tracking for three days. He’s only worth fifty dollars, one of the cheaper bounties she’s been after in the last seven years, but once she read that he killed a mother and two children while robbing their small homestead, she’d set off immediately. 

He’s riding with three other men, but she’s not worried. She’s faced far worse odds before and come out with only a few new scars. She just hopes she doesn’t kill the bastard by accident. Giving them shit while listening to them squirm and curse her out on the long ride back is the best part.

She pulls Moonbay to a stop and pats her neck before dismounting, not bothering with hitching her before crouching and continuing forward. Moonbay’s a brave horse, and even when the gunfight startles her, she doesn’t wander too far off, always returning shortly after the firing stops, with or without being whistled for. 

The men have stopped at the roadside, one of them standing amongst the trees to take a piss. She’ll deal with that one first. Removing the bow from its place over her shoulder a few moments later when she’s creeped close enough, she nocks the arrow and makes her slow, silent approach. He’s whistling some tune, completely oblivious to her presence.

One, two, three deep breaths, she peeks around the side of the tree acting as her cover, and draws back the string. A fourth breath leaves her lungs, and the arrow flies. The string flicks against the few strands of her black hair that have come loose from the braid, and she blows them out of her face at the same time the body thunks against the leaf-covered ground.

“Jim? You smack your head again? Dumb bastard.”

They’ll discover her soon enough, so she throws the bow back over her shoulder and reaches for her two LeMat revolvers. Her thumbs run over the AT engraved in the grips of both of them as she waits, still concealed by the trunk.

“Jim? The hell—” He stops once he sees the body, arrow embedded in the temple. “What the hell—Carl, Clyde, we got a problem!”

The echo of her revolver immediately follows the man’s exclamation. He, too, falls to the ground to never get back up. She stands quickly and rushes towards the shouts from the other two men at the road. Emerging from the treeline, she spots both of them. Both of their guns are raised, but they’re facing the wrong direction. Clyde, the actual bounty, is atop his horse. If he doesn’t fire at her after she kills his lackey, he’ll surely take off. So she aims one gun at the horse’s feet—not to hit it, just to spook it into hopefully bucking Clyde off—and the other at the lackey’s head. She pulls each trigger at the same time. The lackey’s death is instant, but the horse doesn’t spook quite as much as she thought it would. The other three horses, however, do, bolting off in different directions while voicing their sudden fear.

She’s quick with her guns, but not quick enough. Once her shots are fired, Clyde turns in his saddle and fires off a shot of his own. She can’t raise her guns to threaten him before a bullet whizzes into and then out of her left arm. The gun in her hand clatters to the ground.

Retaliation is swift on her end, as she lets out a swear of “¡Chingado!” while firing off a shot at his shoulder. Anger and pain tear through her, along with the thought, If I kill him, I kill him. She’ll have to visit a doctor now, so a quiet ride back might not be so disappointing at all.

It doesn’t kill him, but it does knock him back off his horse, who then takes off with a scream. 

Oh, ahora quieres cooperar.

The gun she’s still holding is holstered before being replaced with the lasso attached to her hip as she strides purposefully to where he’s landed in the dirt. Her left arm screams and throbs with the pain, and she faintly registers the blood rolling down and off of her hand, but she has work to do. The man rolls around, pulling his knees up under him to attempt to stand up, looking frantically for his own dropped gun. His heels are just digging into the ground and he’s almost stood back up when her lasso tightens around his torso. A hard yank, and he’s stumbling towards her before landing on his back again.

“Bitch!” he spits. 

She keeps the rope taut as she approaches. “Heard that one before.”

“Greaser cunt! Fuck you!”

Baring her teeth and sucking in a furious breath, she yanks the rope again. He grunts painfully and she halts her approach, his head in easy kicking distance. “Better watch your mouth, asshole, or you’ll be headin’ back to the sheriff’s as a corpse.”

A devious grin that she does not like spreads across his face then. “Only place I’m headin’ is out of here, after I finish with your corpse, that is.”

The rope instantly becomes slack and in a swift movement—swifter than she figured he’d be able to move after being shot in the shoulder and thrown off a horse—he stands up, charging at her with a knife drawn in his right hand. He’s smart enough to come at her left side, but she’s also smart enough to throw her right side forward. There’s not enough strength in her left arm to be able to fend off the knife, so she reaches for it with her right arm instead. Her left fist collides with his stomach, though it’s not much help, only forcing out a quiet grunt and leaving a bloody fist print on his jacket. Then she grabs his left wrist with her own; two weakened arms wrestling with each other. He sneers as they struggle, and it only makes her madder. 

Anger in most situations actually helps her, gives her some clarity and more power behind her movements. In this one, however, it proves to be a detriment. Rather than use the rest of her body to throw him into the ground and wrench the knife away before grabbing her own, or her gun, she reaches for her knife with her bloody hand. It’s enough of an opening for Clyde to yank his arm back, away from their bodies. Her fist is still clenched around his wrist, so she’s pulled off balance. Wrapping his weakened left arm tightly around her neck and pulling his back flush against his chest is a task, as she’s not going down without a fight, and she’s stronger than she looks. She hasn’t let go of the wrist holding the knife, but while having the tables turned on her, he was able to position the knife less than a foot from her head. The rising pressure around her throat forces her to choose between the immediate danger of the knife or trying to loosen his arm with hers, still throbbing and leaking blood.

Her knife is sheathed on her right side, and the gun that belongs in her left holster is laying uselessly on the ground, far out of reach.

Fuck.

He opens his mouth to say something, no doubt some terrible snark or string of curses at her, but at the same time, they notice the wagon caravan come into view. 

Thankfully, he seems just as surprised as her, so it’s not his backup. Plus, he swears, “Shit,” under his breath and in her ear as he continues to struggle with freeing his hand from her grip. 

There are two riders in front of the first wagon, and neither of them look happy about the scene they’ve stumbled upon. The white man is in a brown leather coat barely hiding his burly frame with a worn black leather hat sitting atop his head, a few strands of dirty blonde hair peeking out from underneath. His dark bay Andalusian stamps its feet underneath him, smelling the blood, but doesn’t move otherwise as he dismounts swiftly, carefully. The other man to his left also dismounts his gray Appaloosa, who only snorts and throws her head, not moving either. He’s brawny as well, though his shoulders are broader, and he’s wearing a thick hooded black sweatshirt, no hat. She thinks he might be mixed race, black and Indian, maybe, long raven hair tied into a loose ponytail similar to how some of the Navajo men she’d met years ago wore theirs, but skin much darker than them. Closer to Josephine’s, she thinks a split second later, along with I need to write her when I get out of this.

Both men approach slowly as Clyde flashes the knife in his hand. He struggles to push the knife closer to her face, but she keeps it still, muscles whining with the strain.

“Easy, partner,” the one in the brown coat says calmly, accent something close to a southwestern if she had to guess, holding his hands out and away from his guns. There’s an underlying threat in his tone. “Let her go, and we’ll let you go.”

There’s very little in this world that she hates more than being a damsel in distress and being used as a bargaining chip or hostage. If he lets her go before she frees herself, there’s no way in hell she’s not shooting the bastard right in the face. 

She bares her teeth again and spares a glance at the other man. He’s already watching her like a hawk with deep, perceptive brown eyes, and shakes his head subtly as if he knows what she’s about to do. 

“And why should I trust you bastards?” Clyde asks with a sneer.

Slowly, so as to not alert Clyde, she shifts her weight onto her left leg. Then, once satisfied that she’s anchored enough, she makes her move. Throwing her right foot back quickly, she tucks it behind his ankle and kicks forward, throwing him off balance this time. Her left hand joins her right and she pulls his arm downward, her shoulder digging into his chest as she throws him to the ground, hard. The dirt beneath her boots shudders with the impact and she hears the breath leave his lungs. In a swift move, one she’s practiced many times for moments such as these, she reaches for her right holstered gun with her left, pulling the hammer back before it’s left the holster, then shoots him in the face, point blank, before he’s able to even begin trying to scramble to his feet.

A beat passes while she pants and slowly holsters her gun. “Fucking bastard,” she says between pants.

“Huh,” Brown Coat breathes. He grabs his gun belt, suddenly the picture of a relaxed cowboy. “Nice move.”

She looks at him, nodding silently, before turning to grab her discarded gun and lasso. She whistles loudly for Moonbay.

“Ma’am,” the other man says, taking a cautious step forward. Only when she looks at him, brows raised, does he continue, voice deep and baritone. Soothing, in a way. “Can we ask what that was about?”

At first she doesn’t answer, just regards them warily. They are dangerous, that much is apparent in the way they carry themselves, the way they dress, and the weapons they carry. But they don’t seem to present her much danger at the moment. The threat in Brown Coat’s voice was gone when he spoke. Nothing but worry, confusion, and intrigue show on either of their faces. So she relaxes. A little. “His head’s worth fifty bucks.”

Black Sweater chuckles lightly and Brown Coat opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by two other voices as they come up beside the men. The first belongs to a much older white man with deep lines but bright perceptive eyes, the second to a white woman in a plain dress, blue eyed, her black hair pulled into a high and tight bun. 

“Arthur, Charles, you two okay?”

“What happened?” 

Brown Coat turns to them and holds up a calming hand. “Everyone’s okay. ‘Sides the bounty she was after.”

The woman perks up once she lays eyes on the other. “Oh, hey, you been shot.” She sounds genuinely worried. About what exactly is unclear.

“Ma’am, you should go see a doctor about that,” the older man says gently.

“I will,” she replies with a one-shoulder shrug. “Gotta collect my money first.”

As if on cue, Moonbay appears in the treeline with a soft nicker. Once she sees the other people, she stops, ears flicking forward and nostrils flaring curiously.

Black Sweater takes another few steps forward, hands still raised harmlessly. “It won’t be easy to get him back by yourself.”

She can tell he means no offense, but it still pulls her lips into a slight frown. “No, but I’ll do it.” Then her mouth twists into something uncomfortable as a memory surfaces, but she quickly plunges it back under and pulls her face back into a neutral expression. 

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

A strange offer, from people she doesn’t know. It must show on her face, because the woman speaks up again.

“We’ve got some space in our wagons, and we can get ya stable until you get to the doctor.” The woman motions back to the wagon caravan, and it’s then that she notices the other four wagons and riders, hanging back at a reasonable distance but watching with interest. “And Arthur can stow your bounty on his horse.”

Brown Coat looks at her sharply. There’s no malice in his voice or face, rather amusement and surprise. “Why you volunteerin’ me, Abigail?”

“Why not?” she shoots back with a teasing smile. “You got experience takin’ bounties in, don’t’cha?”

“That’s true, but—”

“Just stow her on my horse, Moonbay,” she interrupts the two. She doesn’t notice that her mount has stepped closer, so she startles when the mare nudges her good shoulder, expecting a treat or checking up on her. Or both. “Hey, bonita.” As she reaches up to stroke Moonbay’s nose, a sudden wave of exhaustion rolls over her. The fight hadn’t been long or particularly bloody, but it’s been a long three days and the numbness in her arm is starting to fade away post-battle. Meaning all the pain will start to register, and she has no medicine that’ll ease the pain nearly enough. And this bullet wound is bleeding more than usual. 

“Okay,” Black Sweater—Charles, if she heard the name right—agrees, taking more steps forward until he’s at Clyde’s body. “Think she’ll be okay next to a wagon, or you want one of us to lead her?”

“I didn’t agree to go with you.”

Nobody seems convinced by her tone. 

“You don’t wanna bleed out on the way there, do ya?” Arthur asks.

She frowns more at that, like a petulant child. They’re right. They know it, she knows it. And something tells her that these people won’t bring her any harm. That their offer of help is genuine. She can’t deny that getting her wound tended to while sitting comfortably in the back of a wagon doesn’t sound enticing.

“Come on,” Arthur waves her forward before making a move to go to one of the other wagons. “I’ll go speak to Dutch. Uh, what’s your name, anyhow, ma’am?”

For the first time in a long time, her real name worms its way to the tip of her tongue. She quickly bites it back. Why, why now? Not that the name would mean anything to them, but still. It’s a part of her past she keeps locked away for a reason. These strangers have no business knowing her business. So she takes a deep breath, watching them for a moment, before relaxing her shoulders and nodding. 

“Alberta Taylor.”

“Well,” Abigail says, holding out her hands, “I’m Abigail Roberts. Come on, Alberta Taylor. Let’s get you taken care of.”

She nods again. “Just Al is fine.” Then she turns and announces over her shoulder, “Best one of you lead her. Moonbay, esta bien, hermosa. Buena niña.” 

Moonbay throws her head up once, snorts, then lowers her head as Charles approaches. She still seems a bit wary, but doesn’t flinch under his gentle touch and soft words. Satisfied that she’ll behave, Al turns back to Abigail, who is leading her past the first wagon. She’s uncomfortable with the many sets of eyes now on her, but ignores that feeling and the pain.

Besides, after they get her to the doctor, she’ll likely never see these people again. So she can stomach this unease for the time being. 

[isaadleer]

「Fic request 」

↳ some things i don’t accept

» fetish, abuse, violent sex (beating or strangling), masc¡ character x any masc¡ rdr character.

↳ things i accept

» fluff, rdr character fem! or masc¡ x fem! character, smut, fic ideas, recommendations, tlou character x fem! character.

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

be free to say whatever you want, with this rules please! i don’t have enough knowledge about gay masc! relationships, so i’m not going to do it.

[justalilnovice]

Just a little preview of the Javier x Kaitlynn fic I’m doing.

“You won’t tell on me will you?” she pouts, resuming her grooming on Copper, but in slower strokes to pay attention to Javier. His low chuckle rumbles through his chest, going through the girl’s ears and making her own chest tighten. He begins to pat down the horse’s neck.

    “Hmm,” he begins, “perhaps we can come to an agreement and I won’t tell.”

    Kait scoffs playfully, hand on her chest and pretends to be offended.

    “Javier Escuella, we’ve been friends for how long and you would tattle on me? What has the world come to.”

    He now then lifts his arms to rest and fold them on the side of Copper’s back, leaning his weight on the animal, who doesn’t seem to care of the sudden shift of gravity. 

    “What could you give me, so that I won’t open my mouth?” he asks, chin resting on his arm. 

    Her mind goes places, but Kaitlynn doesn’t dare venture that far with her words. Instead she bites her tongue and gives Javier a curious look, along with a playful grin. 

    “What would you like?”

Javier’s lower lip puffs out and he looks off to the side, looking like he’s pondering his options.  Kaitlynn watches from the side with a curious gaze and her mind ponders at the options that he may choose, and all with a rapid heartbeat. It wasn’t oblivious to anyone how charming Javier could be and Kaitlynn knew that first hand, as it was often that the man made her flushed and beat red. This little crush thing had gone on for a few months now as they grew closer, subtle flirty banter from both ends and inside jokes, often dirty, and the ever so feather like and accidental touches.

    Eventually the silence in the air is filled with a soft chuckle and Javier removes his arms from the horse’s back, resting them at his side as he sends a playful wink Kaitlynn’s way. 

    “I’ve got a few things in mind,” he coos, “but I’ll keep them a secret for now. Leave you wondering about me.”

[redemptionofthedead]

Call of the Moon

Torben Wyborn.

[yeehawmarston-blog]

Under The Stars

Desc: You’re pretty restless so you end up heading down to the pond (the one where Arthur took Jack fishing) to sketch. Little did you know a certain raccoon boy wanted to keep watch just in case something were to happen.

Pair: John Marston x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, nothing else but fluff here

[A/N: yeet this is my first fic :D Abigail and John separated in this one, also, this takes place when the group lives in Shady Belle. This was inspired by how once my friend and I watched the sunrise and honestly that was an amazing experience for me]

——————————————-

You couldn’t sleep. You were tossing and turning all night, and have been for about 2 weeks now. Your mind keeps wandering and you keep worrying about everything happening with the gang. You fade in and out of sleep, and at about 3am you decided to just go to the river and sketch. You could build camp and sleep there if you got too tired, and you could get the things with the gang off your mind.

You stepped out of your tent, making sure that no one could see you and that nobody was up. You tip-toed your way to your horse and headed out of camp.

You headed to New Hanover, calming your horse when he got spooked by the alligators of Lemoyne. It was beautiful at night. You could see the lights coming from Saint Denis, and it was so dark where you were so the stars stood out. Your horse’s feet clopped along the pathway, and after a bit of a long ride, you were at the river.

This was your favourite place to be. It was pretty far, but after you went fishing that one time with Arthur and Jack, you decided this was the coziest place you could be. Your little happy place.

You set up camp and when you were done you sat down on one of the boulders and sketched. You sketched the night sky, the tall forest trees, the glistening river, the beautiful flowers. Everything within sight, you wanted to capture and keep in your little notebook. A gentle reminder that beauty exists in this cruel, cruel world.

As you sketched, someone else was on their horse near the river. John noticed when you left, you couldn’t fool him. As naive as he was, he knew that when a woman was going alone at night to a secluded area, it was bound to spell trouble. As much as he trusts you- hell, you’ve saved his life more times than he can remember- he didn’t trust the world to be quite as forgiving. That, and, he doesn’t remember the last time you two got to be alone together. He knew this stuff was the last thing that should be on his mind, but he’s been feeling bugged by it to the point where he knew he had to do something.

He got off his horse a decent distance away. He leaned by a tree and took a moment to admire you. He wasn’t checking you out or anything- he just simply admired you. The way your long hair was gently positioned next to your face, the way your eyes reflected the river and the stars. For a tough, hot-headed, scarred cowboy, he had his soft spots. You were his, and his only reminder that beauty existed.

After 5 minutes or so he walked up to you. “Beautiful night isn't it?” He called out.

You recognized that voice anywhere. “Hey, Marston.”

He took a seat next to you and yawned. “What are you doing out here at night?”

“I was feeling restless so I came out here. Felt like I needed to get away for a bit.”

He showed a concerned expression. “I knew that much. We can all hear you tossing and turning in your cot.” He let out a soft chuckle.

You were hoping you weren’t that obvious. You couldn’t have been- you always made sure no one heard you.

“Heh, guess I didn't do a good job hiding it, what made you decide to come here?”

He looked out at the lake. “Just thought you shouldn't be alone, ya know? I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

You hesitated before speaking “Everything just seems so weird with the gang. Dutch’s plan seems like its a load of bullshit, Micah is acting suspicious, I almost feel as if loyalty doesn't matter anymore.” You looked down at your feet.

“I get what you mean,” he said. You two sat in silence for a bit. It wasn't an awkward silence, but a comforting one. It was nice to know John was there. His presence was enough to make you feel better.

“Hey, John?”

“Yeah (Y/n)?”

“Can I have a hug?”

You regretted saying those words as soon as they left your mouth. Why in hell would John Marston, outlaw, cowboy, bounty hunter, accept something like that? That sentence just made u sound stupid.

You were just about to take that sentence back when he wrapped his arms around you. You were wide-eyed for a second, but after a bit, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his shoulder in return.

You stayed like that for a while. It was as if everything happening with the gang was suddenly over. Your worries disappeared and all that mattered was this moment that you shared with John. You trusted him.

You two released each other. He chuckled. “Don't be afraid to ask me something like that, I came out here to make sure you were okay, remember?”

He genuinely cared for you, and he wanted you to know. He was glad you asked him that.

You chuckled as well. You two sat in more silence, and you started to finally get tired.

As you fell asleep, he gave you a quick peck on the cheek.

He didn't have the nerve to do it while you were awake.

[roronoazs]

I don't play online because I hate interacting with other people in my horse adventure game, but for people who do play online would anyone be willing to tell me what their favourite horses are? Not the best horse but the horse you specifically like best. Your favourite traveling companion, your best friend, your mighty and beautiful steed that tramples everything in their path. I wanna know.

[rollingwiccan]

Hiiii!!!! First posts are incredibly awkward and I’m not entirely sure how to introduce myself but… I’m Ky!

Im relatively new to the rdr fandom, i started the game almost a year ago and haven’t stopped playing since (it has me in a chokehold). My pronouns are she/her, and I’m 22 (sag baby). PLEASE no minors I don’t want to be held responsible for ruining ur fresh little brain.

I’m planning to use this blog to post shots from my game (story and online), and to share some fics! I’m not super used to sharing my writing but I figured i do so much of it that i should at least do something with it lmao. I have a modern!arthur fic in the works rn, only gonna be max like 10 chapters (probably not even) that I’m gonna post first, and then if anyone ever finds it and my blog I’d love to take some requests eventually!!

Anyway… wanna be friends? :)