#rdr2 drabble

[gam3r-girli3]

Quitting the gang ain't something Arthur Morgan ever considered in his life.

Not when he asked Mary Gillis to marry him and then she called off their engagement because of her family's blatant disapproval of his lifestyle.

Not when a one night stand with a waitress called Eliza led to the birth of his son Isaac, and not even when they met a tragic end after being robbed and shot.

Nothin' means more to Arthur than loyalty, and loyalty to the gang is all he's ever known.

And then he meets you.

Something about you starts to open his eyes; he begins noticing things he didn't before, like the way Dutch demands everyone chip in and do what it takes to provide for the camp whilst loitering around and doing nothing himself. The way Dutch insists he has a 'grand plan' and they'll all be alright but he never seems to deliver on his ideas.

Suddenly the promises Dutch swears to Arthur and the praises he sings for him ain't nothing more than a way to manipulate him, to use him. He was nothin' more than a pawn to Dutch, a way to keep his own hands clean while he sent his executioner to go do his dirty work.

The more he fell for you, the more he realised it, and he knew in his heart that he had to get out.

What was it that old blind beggar had said to him on the side of the road when Arthur had stopped and given him money?

"Your whole life you've been following the wrong star."

Well, maybe it was about time to follow a new star: you.

i love the blind man interactions but it's so sad to think about how arthur had his future predicted for him but he never believed the blind man or really understood what he was talking about whilst we as players did (especially on the second+ playthrough 😭)

[ pics in collage do not belong to me - all were found on pinterest ]

[the-karma-cafe]

Good Girl | Arthur Morgan

“You look sweet all messy like this,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over you. His hand trailed up to bump against your hip, thumb smoothing over the fabric there.

“Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “You’re welcome, darlin’,” he purred, his palm gently pushing around you, pressing you closer. His other tucked under your chin, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement. “Got the prettiest little mouth…” he whispered, his voice smooth.

Heat crept up your cheeks. “Thank you.” You repeated, softer this time, your lips parted. His thumb grazed against your top lip, and you watched his face contort the slightest bit, as if in agony just watching. 

He pressed, slipping the digit past your lips, lightly tracing it over your tongue. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You gently closed your lips around his thumb, softly sucking at it.

He drew in a shaky breath. “Jesus,” he tilted his head, meeting your eyes. You swirled your tongue against the pad experimentally, and he let out a desperate kind of sigh. “Such a good girl for me, ain’t you, baby?”

[idyllghost]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[littlelostmabari]

This came to me last night in the hypnagogic state where all my fic ideas (good and bad) come from. No idea if this is anything but it begged to be written. Might make it into a series if the brain gremlins are obliging. Divider from strangergraphics-archive. Complete Fic List

And Death Follows

Arthur Morgan x grimreaper!reader.

Supernatural elements, death & dying, reader has female pronouns. 700 words.

Arthur should have died in New Austin a year ago, deep in the Grizzlies. Not even a noteworthy death: an ambush by some unknown bandits that would fall off the map three winters later. He was only passing through, on his way to meet Dutch and the new enforcer at Crenshaw Hills. He wasn't supposed to make it. You were there to claim his soul. You weren't supposed to leave until you had it.

It wasn't often that you were sent to claim a soul before it had died, to watch a man on the last day of his life, to watch him take his last breath. Most days you wandered, somewhere between the physical and the ethereal, finding the souls along your routes and releasing them so that they would not fester and become nightmares, hauntings, bad luck. But every so often a death was orchestrated years in advance, threads woven in some grand design that you were never privy to. You were called somewhere by whispers on the winds, meant to shepherd the one poor soul the Fates had doomed, and then return to your years of wanderings. That was the protocol, and you'd never needed to second guess it before, because... Well, them that were fated to die simply did. But he didn't. He... lived. Everyone around him, everyone who was supposed to play a part in his demise found theirs at the end of his revolver. Someone would need to collect their souls, and shepherd them to the afterlife, especially because they weren't assigned to die today. No one was coming to get them, they would languish here until another wanderer like you released them. So... as odd as it is, you do your job. You tiptoe through the scene, invisible to all but the dead, and send these men to the afterlife so that this spot will not bear the ruination of angered spirits. You watch as Arthur climbs up onto the Hungarian Half-bred and clicks his tongue and goes to meet the men he was never supposed to see again, a strong golden thread tethering him to this world. You still need Arthur's soul though. Supposedly, if the whispers are right. So you follow him deeper into the Grizzlies.

The bugger won't fuckin' die.

Robbery after holdup after break-in you follow him, invisibly picking up the lost echoes he leaves behind, still needing the one that she had been assigned. You wonder if the men, the souls, the wisps that tell you their dying words and disappear into the ether would have lived if Arthur had died. Through Armadillo and Tumbleweed, through the start of something clever in Blackwater with Hosea. The longer you stay, the more you start to root for him. The more times you follow him through other people's broken lives, you start to hope that he lives. Start to help him.

And the longer you're there, the more he starts to feel your presence. Extra ammo he's sure he didn't pack, but desperately needed as they flee into Tall Trees. The whisper of a breeze that causes him to look up and see the lurking O'Driscoll. The knowledge, somehow, that John's injuries at Colter aren't fatal because it's not his time yet, but he doesn't know how he knows. It's in the aftermath of a bloodied battlefield at Ewing Basin, when Dutch has left him to pick through whatever remains, that he sees you for the first time.

He scans for threats every few seconds, and has to blink weariness out of his eyes because why would a woman in a black tattered dress with hair pinned up and mussed be wandering the abandoned mining camp, the rotting buildings, the open catacombs of the men they had ambushed? And what is the woman doing with her fingers on the forehead of a body made unidentifiable by shrapnel and lead? And what is the wisp of light that dances between her fingertips? "Come on, Arthur! Dutch ain't gonna wait all day!' He snaps his head over his shoulder at Lenny's call and by the time he looks back, she is gone. "Yeah, keep yer shirt on boah, I'm comin'."

[lady-boketto]

Difference in Taste! (Random Drabble)

A/n: Honestly this was one of those random scenarios that pop up in your head and unlike the other ones I had to write this one out, I also included a lot of characters so I put it under the cut

It's one of those rare afternoons where you have the pleasure of passing the time not really doing anything but relishing in the peaceful comfort of your home with your beloved partner.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity of your significant other's already sparse time, you were determined to spend some quality time with them as you thought the day was perfect for a outdoor picnic with bright blue skies and the temperatures being well above the average day, yet the day was still accompanied by a slight breeze with the warm summer air.

As you walked with your arm linked with your partner through the field you both wandered into, your eyes scanned the surrounding for a perfect spot to set up your picnic blanket when your irises catch a nearby oak tree that is providing a nice umbrella of shade.

With the blanket set up nicely in the shade of oak tree, your significant other is already starting to unpack all your belongings and placing them down eagerly on the soft fabric of the blanket, clearly overjoyed to relax with their love one while also enjoying the food the both of you had spent the better part of the morning preparing.

while in their warm embrace you decide to fill the silence with mindless conversation, it's mostly what has captured your attention that day (whether it's mindless banter or enticing gossip you have to tell, your significant other is always listening with a smile with on their face while trying to keep the conversation to the best of their ability) while in the middle of answering your previous thought of what would be the most diabolical smash or pass topic, you think of a another thought that would hopefully shake your partner's thoughts and they finally stumble over their words.

" How do you think I'd taste? what you you think?"

Those whose minds thought you meant food wise:

JJK: Kiyotaka Ijichi, Utahime Iori, Yuta, Miwa, Takuma Ino, Mahito

AOT: Zeke, Annie, Bertholdt, Mikasa, Hange

Inuyasha: Ayame, Ginta, Hakkaku, Inuyasha, Kikiyo, Sango

CoD: Gaz, Konig, Roze, Kleo, Gus, Farah, Soap

Demon Slayer: Mitsuri, Giyuu, Rengoku, Kanae, Akaza, Daki, Makio

RDR2: Arthur, John, Bill, Molly, Kieran, Mary-Beth, Lenny, Swanson, Pearson, Mary, Lemuel Fike

Those who are confused on how to answer because they understand both meanings:

JJK: Nanami, Nobara, Megumi, Maki, Mai, Noritoshi, Choso

AOT: Erwin, Levi, Onyankopon

Inuyasha: Kagome, Kagura, Sesshomaru

CoD: Price, Ghost, Rodolfo, Chuy, Laswell, Alex

Demon Slayer: Urokodaki, Tamayo, Gyomei, Kagaya Ubuyashiki, Kokushibo, Hinatsuru, Obanai

RDR2: Abigail, Charles, Hosea, Trelawny, Sadie, Grimshaw, Tilly, Black Belle, Bonnie

Those whose minds went straight into the gutter:

JJK: Gojo, Yuji, Shoko Ieiri, Toji, Geto, Yuki Tsukumo, Mei Mei, Inumaki, Todo, Naoya

AOT: Armin, Jean, Colt, Reiner, Porco, Eren, Mike, Conny

Inuyasha: Hiten, Jakotsu, Koga, Miroku, Naraku, Toga

CoD: Nova, Alejandro, Enzo Reyes, Horangi, Valeria, Graves, Makarov

Demon Slayer: Shinobu, Uzui, Sanemi, Shinjuro, Muzan, Doma, Gyutaro, Suna

RDR2: Dutch, Javier, Karen, Micah, Sean, Eagle Flies, Flaco, Madam Nazar

[big-boah-2]

He'd wear 38"x32" Levi's, the dark blue 514 ones. White tees and flannel and work boots. He'd work in construction or park rangering or something, and when he comes home at the end of the day, and you hug him, your fingertips barely touch behind his back. It's those kind of hugs where you do a squish and you can feel like soft yet firm comfort between your arms. Warmth. He would grumble about how he stinks and needs a shower, but he always smells good for some reason. Like him and the outdoors, balanced perfectly. And once you've held him long enough, he kisses your forehead and tells you how much he appreciates everything you do, even though he's out there doing hard labor. You'd kiss him back, savoring the feeling of his full lips between yours, then you'd shower together. Just like every night, you enjoy a damn good meal and dessert, doing whatever makes you happy and relaxed after, until you both hit the hay that night. Because he's just a good, honest, hard-working guy. And you're an amazing, beautiful, and caring companion.

[margowritesthings]

Hey, Margo! 🩷

I’m sending the request according to your new post 🥺

I would like a friends to lovers trope. But here’s the thing: Could the female character (lil me) and Arthur actually had a relationship in the past (current relationship status is they broke up) and now they are falling for each other again (second chance)?

Of course I would love a Red Dead Redemption (Arthur Morgan) fanfic 🩷

The gender is female, and if you could make her ginger with brown eyes (like me) I would love it 🥺 And if Arthur calls her angel, even better 🩷🩷🩷

Feel free to add smut, fluff and anything you would like!

Thank you for tagging me! You know how much I love your writing 🩷

sweet angel hello! thank you for participating, i got so many ideas for your love story with our pretty cow boah

come celebrate 1k followers with me!

arthur morgan // second chance + friends to lovers

you two have been sweet on each other since the moment you met, the day you joined the gang. arthur was brave enough to ask you on a date after only a short three months of pining after you

he took you to the saloon, you beat him at poker, and in that moment he knew you were his soulmate. a forever love.

you were together for a few months, and it was that kind of love you only thought existed in the stories you read. it was celestial, ethereal. a wild burning flame extinguished far too quickly.

when he found out about isaac and eliza's deaths, arthur really struggled. he drank a lot and lost himself for a while.

you knew the best thing to do was to just be there for him, so you both decided he needed friendship right now.

"you're my best friend, arthur. that ain't ever gonna change."

but the feelings didn't just go away as easily as your plan relied on, that flame too furious to be extinguished by simple "logic"

you wanted to respect the space arthur asked for, and he never thought he was good enough to have you after letting you go the first time

unworthy of your love

if he couldn't protect isaac and eliza, how could he ever deserve you?

and thus ensued years of pining

the very best of friends, unable to stay away from each other while this silent love roared

you'd work jobs together, go hunting together, have midnight chats by the fire, save each other's asses from time to time

years went on like this, where everybody in the gang and their mamma would share glances and roll their eyes at the two fools who couldn't just admit they were made for each other

you were the first person arthur wanted to see whenever he got back from a job, the one he rode home to even if he never said it aloud

and as much as your heart ached a little every time you looked at him, you would have stayed like that forever if it meant getting to keep arthur in your life

until the day he left it

when he didn't come back from the 'chat' with the o'driscolls, you were out of your mind with worry

the thought of never seeing arthur again flipped a switch in your mind and you finally realised that this life stuck in limbo wasn't enough

you were sneaking out in the dead of night against dutch's orders when you saw him, beaten and bloody, riding home to you

it broke you, the relief washing over you like a wave that breaks the walls you've built as though they're nothing but paper

he practically falls off his horse, but you catch his weight and support him

you take him to your tent and patch him up, holding him and crying with him when you see what they did to arthur. your arthur.

he winces when he reaches up to push that stray rebellious hair out of your face, but the way the candlelight glows in his eyes has your own breath hitching in your throat

"i was so worried, arthur... i-i thought-"

"i know, angel, i know... i'm sorry...

but i'm here now

and i ain't ever leaving you again."

that nickname... from all those years ago when you first found eachother

whispered for the first time in a moan, you and him tangled together in sheets for the very first time

"goddamn... you're an angel, how'd a dirty sinner like me ever get so lucky?"

when you broke up, you never thought you'd hear it again

and yet here you are

the sweet name echoing in your ears as he kisses you, reuniting your lips after far too long apart

it's a desperate kiss, the kind that holds two lifetimes of context

like you're scared if either one lets go the moment will disappear

so you don't

you tangle your fingers in his hair, he cups your cheek, your bodies moulding together

being any closer would be impossible

"this is it, angel, you hear? no more messing around, this is it. this is us, cause i ain't letting you go."

"you better not, mister."

you’re both crying, breathing each other in, never wanting to let one another go

and you never do again

[annasinterests]

southern nights

|| main masterlist ||

okay y'all. . . hear me out on this. . . i know southern nights by allen toussaint/glen campbell came out in the 1970s but it's sooo rdr2,, moreover i cannot HELP but think ab it in conjunction with my lovely rugged cowboy(friend) arthur morgan <3 also this is lowkey kinda long but i love it with all my heart so pls b gentle w meee

i will say that this is pretty self-indulgent and wrote it with the idea of a female reader (specifically for like one detail) so if this isn't what you're looking for i apologize :(

so like.. imagine this song playing at either camp from dutch's gramophone or at a bustling saloon in like saint denis (honestly what i imagine more in this scenario so that's what we're rolling w here) and the whole gang is there either drunk or tipsy or whatever

you've always had a thing for arthur as long as you can remember but always kept it to yourself because you'd actually die if it got out- you'd absolutely never hear the end of it from all the women and you'd hate if arthur got teased for it by the men

so you get a couple drinks in you and for most of the night you've been sitting by mary-beth and sadie while the other girls have been up on their feet all night dancing to all the other songs

every now and then your eyes wander to arthur and you smile at how cute he looks when he smiles and laughs with the other guys like john and charles and javier

and how handsome he is with his new short haircut and how he's dressed in all black with his sleeves rolled up and a few buttons left undone that exposed his chest in a way that made your cheeks warm up

and how the lighting also makes him look ten times hotter as if you didn't believe he could get more attractive???? but clearly it was possible

so when the song comes on everyone just lights up and gathers 'round and you see that molly and dutch are clasped together and so are john and abigail and the rest of them find their rhythm in the music

normally you'd frown at when even sadie and mary-beth left you to go join but you had enough alcohol in your system that it didn't even phase you

in fact, you were smiling and giggling at all of them, seeing that this was your family- as fucked up it got sometimes- and for once, everyone was able to let loose

and just when you thought that you were safe on the sidelines tonight, arthur swoops in and holds his hand out to you with the sweetest look

"c'mon, s'no fun without you!"

he makes you laugh when you hesitate by saying you get a free pass to step on his feet if it's the dancing part you're worried about

which it's not but you'll use the excuse and take his hand that perfectly encases yours

he throws you both right in the middle of it all and takes the lead into a foxy routine* which you fall into very easy, because again, it wasn't dancing that was the issue

and he seems to pick up on that very quickly but doesn't say anything because he's so focused on making sure he doesn't step on your feet and holding you and twirling you around and being enamored by how your skirt flares out every time like a princess

at one point when he pulls you back in after twirling your body is pressed right against his briefly and you don't notice the way he gets a little flustered because of.. well.. everything else going on

but his grin remains wide and he feels a flutter and ache in his chest and its not because of the alcohol

more than halfway through the song you get a little boost of confidence and slide your hand over his shoulder to wrap your arm behind his neck and you know it affects him by the way his arm snakes around your waist more

and you're both oblivious to how the whole gang immediately notices your proximity and how all the girls are giggling together while the guys are looking on with wicked smiles cause they know their boy's been sweet on you for a hot minute yets been too scared to be bold ab it incase you didn't feel the same (which couldn't be farther from the truth)

and once the song ends neither one of you really want to pull away but you do and he absolutely refuses to leave you alone for the rest of the night because he knows that something's started and he's determined to finish it at the end of the night before tomorrow comes and washes it away

so if you want another drink? it just so happens that so does he. he actually goes and either gets one with you or for you at the bar

you wanna talk to the girls? oh, he'll be around them too, taking all their (light-hearted) jabs at him just so he can be near you

when the gang rounds up again in a circle just to simply drink and converse, he's right there at your side again, standing so close his shoulder is constantly brushing against yours

and because you've all perhaps over-indulged in some adult beverages, of course you find yourselves huddled together and up in each other's personal bubbles, leaning in real close when someone talks because that's what everyone does when they've drank too much

so arthur places a gentle hand on your back to make sure that you're just in the circle as much as everyone else is, but also because he just really wants to keep you connected somehow

before you know it, you're relaxing into his shoulder as his hand rests on your waist again and it just feels so damn normal. like this is how it's always been

you feel yourself slipping and giving in, but you know he is too because of how you can feel his heart thumping against you and damn near out of his chest

while he enjoys the company and the time being had together, he feels the night dragging on and he's so desperate to get you alone

and he finally thinks he gets the chance when dutch hints at the idea that they should start rolling out to get back to camp and feels a nervousness building up

but you catch him off-guard when you take his hand and sneak away through a sidedoor to an alley while no one is looking and he laughs out of pure surprise

"what're you doin?"

"well one, i don't wanna leave yet. two, i know that wagon ride home is gonna be downright loud and obnoxious. and three, i'd rather be with you, so... walk with me?"

you're all smiles and so is he, and you stroll aimlessly around the town that seems to be busy at all hours of the day, hand in hand

you find yourselves near the outskirts of the town near the river when he starts to speak up and tell you how much fun he had and how good it was to see everyone getting along, as well as poking at you for being so hesitant to get up and dance since you did so well with him

you agree with him on the first two things and simply brush off the last bit, insisting that you had no idea what he was talking about, but you both knew it was just an act

he starts to say something else and then goes quiet and slows down, slightly tugging your hand to bring you back to him, which causes you to look at him with concern

he's trying to find the right words to say that every time he sees a pretty flower he wants to pick it and give it to you

that every time he leaves camp he makes it a point to see you last just so he can see your face and hear your voice because he doesn't know how long it'll be until he can do it again

that he notices every little thing you do and has written so many things for you and about you in his journal

that when you look at him, he doesn't ever want you to look away

and you're not making it any easier on him by looking ridiculously adorable while being incredibly confused and concerned, your eyebrows knitted upwards with expressive eyes that are twinkling under the dim street lights

he's fumbling over his words but you're able to piece them together little by little, a sweet smile growing on your lips as his hands are fidgeting with yours

"arthur-"

he snaps his head up at you thinking he's crossed the line, but the fear eases when he sees that you're grinning at him and slowly closing the space between you two, placing your hands on his chest

the corner of his lip curls up and his eyes are flickering between yours as his hands find their way around you like they have been all night

"i like y-"

you didn't even have to finish the statement before his mouth was on yours in something sweet and passionate yet eager and needy

the breaks between kisses were few and short, completely engrossed in one another and trying to make the moment last forever

when you finally did separate, you were both smiling and letting out breathy chuckles, acting all giddy like the couple of kids that you were

he leans in to your touch when you put your palm on his cheek and kiss the other side, being able to feel the warmth that'd been there all night

"take us home, arthur."

he reaches for the hand on his cheek and turns his head to kiss it, then dropping them both down and intertwining your fingers as you begin to walk back to his horse, his voice filled with such love in a simple response

"yes ma'am."

goddamn do i love that cowboy. i literally told myself that i wasn't even going to write anything else besides my ongoing fic rn but i just have such a soft spot for arthur it's unreal. also if anyone wants to like, properly write this and make it a thing please feel free cuz i was just spit ballin' with this lmao- the only thing i ask is to be tagged because i wanna love and support u <3

*if you don't know what a foxy routine is, just look up that phrase on google or youtube and there are a ton of videos w so many variations of this dance! however i don't imagine is as a foxtrot (where there's more distance between u and ur partner) so there's that to clear up any confusion if there is any! <3

[roamingtigress]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde Characters: Hosea Matthews Additional Tags: old men roleplaying, First Dates, First Impressions, vandermatthews, Hosea Matthews Lives, BAMF Hosea Matthews, Bonfires, POV Hosea Matthews, POV First Person, Camping, Campfires Summary:

A little drabble: Hosea and Dutch enjoy roleplaying first date scenarios with one another, and this one takes place under the stars and by the campfire.

[12timetraveler]

Stars In Your Multitudes

Summary:

Hosea sits down with Sadie to offer her comfort and support after losing Jake.

Notes:

I was talking with a couple of my buddies and I brought up how it's such a missed opportunity to have Hosea the widower sit down with Sadie the widow to help her deal and give her advice. Per their request, I wrote a little something.

I know I should be working on the next chapter of Something In The Orange but this idea just wouldn't leave my head.

You can read the full story below or on AO3

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

There she sat, on the edge of camp, tears streaming down her face. Not the loud, heartbroken sobs she'd let out in Colter. The sobs that Hosea felt to his very soul. There was no sound this time. Just tears streaming down her face as she clutched her arms to her abdomen, like she was trying to physically hold herself together.

Hosea knew that feeling. He'd spent plenty of time trying to hold himself together, afraid of what may happen if he let go and fell apart. Nights lost to the drink, days spent huddled under blankets trying to shield himself from the world. He understood all of this all too well.

He glanced down at the two bottles in his hand, both unopened. He'd need to be careful. It would be easy for Mrs. Adler to slip like he did. But one drink wouldn't hurt, and maybe it would help his words sink in.

Ever since Arthur explained to him the state they'd found Mrs. Adler in, he'd known he needed to speak with the fresh widow. He could relate to her in ways that no one else could. Maybe his wisdom and experience could help her.

Others had been there for her. Mary Beth and Abigail had both spent time sitting with her and comforting her. But neither of them had experienced a loss like this, and there was only so much comfort they could give from imagining how it felt. But he knew. He knew.

Taking a deep breath, he strode across camp to where she sat. She didn't even hear him approaching, or if she did, she didn't respond until he cleared his throat. Then she peered up at him like a lost lamb, though the wild look in her eyes warned him not to judge her as such.

“Mrs. Adler,” he greeted her, voice low and respectful. She seemed to flinch at the name. Her husband's name. “Mind if I sit with you?” He asked. She only shrugged in response, so he came and sat beside her, unable to suppress the groan as his joints protested to sitting on the ground.

He popped the tops off of the two bottles and placed one in her hand. “That is the only one of those you'll get from me. It's far too easy to fall into the bottle when you're feeling emotions like this.”

“Seen enough people do that,” she mumbled, taking a sip of the whiskey.

“I've been there myself,” he hummed, sipping from his own bottle. “When my wife died.”

Sadie looked over at him in surprise. “You were married?” Hosea nodded in response. “For how long?”

“Not nearly long enough,” he sighed. Sadie understood what he meant. Though she thought even 50 years of marriage to her Jakey would have been too short.

“After she died... The pain I felt was...” Hosea shook his head and took another sip. “I've been shot, stabbed, hung, beaten to an inch of my life. None of that was as painful as losing my dear Bessie.”

“That's a sweet name.” Sadie murmured.

“I always thought so too.” Hosea chuckled. “In the days that followed, I could hardly move from my bedroll. I just lay there, weeping and praying to a god I don't know that I believe in. Just to have her back in my arms. Finally after about a week I pulled myself out of bed, only to stumble into the bottle. I was drunk for a year after that. Honestly. I don't think a day went by where I could have been called sober. Eventually I pulled myself out, else I'd be stumbling around like the Reverend. But that doesn't mean it's been easy.”

Sadie hummed in response.

“Mrs. Adler... Sadie... Can I call you Sadie?” He asked. She nodded. “I'm not going to sit here and tell you that everything is going to be okay or that things will work out. Because that's not going to help you feel better, and those words are hollow,” he said. “But I am here to listen, if you want to talk. And if not, I'm happy to sit here with you as long as you'd like, in solidarity. A sort of vigil for those we both lost.”

Sadie only nodded, taking another sip from the bottle. The two sat in silence for a while, sipping from their bottles on occasion, but otherwise functionally ignoring the rest of camp, just looking out over the horizon as the sun began to creep down in the sky.

“Does the pain ever stop?” Sadie finally asked. “Or... Lessen?”

“Not really,” Hosea sighed. “But you grow, and you learn how to live with the pain. You... You find ways to honor them, and keep them close. Find time to remember the good times. The wound their passing left behind heals, but the mark on your heart never goes away. But would you really want it to?”

“Suppose not,” Sadie mumbled. “Sometimes it feel like it would have been easier to never know him but... God my life would never have been right without him. Jake and I was always sweet on each other.”

“That's beautiful,” Hosea hummed.

“My daddy died when I was a kid. 12, 13 something like that. That hurt but... I don't remember it being like this.”

“It's one thing to lose a blood relative. But it's an entirely different pain to lose someone you chose to love. One is not more painful than the other, but it’s different.” Hosea mused, tapping the neck of his bottle with his finger. “I think that's why the others don't really get it. We've all lost someone. But losing parents, siblings, it's different.”

“Mr. Matthews...” Sadie's voice cracked, and the tears started anew.

“Call me Hosea,” he soothed. He reached an arm out, resting it on her back. Only when Sadie leaned into his touch did he pull her against him, offering her his shoulder.

“It hurts so damn much, Hosea,” she gasped, allowing the older man to hold her close and comfort her.

“I know it does. I know,” he soothed.

“Jake was a good man. He died so terrible. He didn't deserve it.” She sobbed.

“No, he didn't. They rarely do.”

He held her as she cried. Not the hysterical weeping she'd done in Colter, but a heart wrenching round of sobs. For her love, the life they'd built, now lost, the things that had been, the things that should have been, all of it. He held her as the sun dipped down below the horizon. No one bothered them. If anyone could help Sadie, it would be Hosea.

Slowly her sobs died down to sniffles, all cried out. But she seemed a little more... Alive. Like she'd finally started to process it all.

“How did you meet?” He asked quietly.

“I knew Jakey my whole life. Ever since we were kids. Like I said, we was always sweet on each other. Even as kids. We'd play in the crick nearby, catch frogs and scare turkeys. He never treated me differently just because I'm a girl. Never told me I couldn't do something or should act more ladylike. He saw me as human. As equal.

“We didn't get married right away though. He wanted to serve in the army, like his pa had. He didn't serve long though. It sort of hit him part-way through his service that he weren't killing some big bad enemy. Just boys like him. When he came back, I think he expected I'd’ve moved on, met someone else. But I waited. He was broken after all that. But we got our little cabin in the mountains, got married. It was peaceful. Things were hard, sure. But we had each other and that was enough.”

Sadie wiped the moisture from her eyes, sitting up-right. “He was too good for this world.”

“So was my Bessie,” Hosea sighed. “Always saw the good in everyone. Even some skinny, feral conman with hopes of changing the world and righting wrongs far beyond anything one single man could hope to achieve. She took one look at me and it was like she saw to my soul. Past all the bounties and crimes she saw... Me.”

Both took a sip of their drink.

“I took one look at her and I was smitten.” Hosea sighed. “Bessie wasn't naive mind you,” Hosea continued. “She was a strong woman. She did just fine running with us.”

“Jake was the same. He was strong, and he'd seen how the world was. But still he tried to see the best in everything. He had to believe there was good in the world. I think he'd have lost his mind if he didn't.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“I think I would have liked your Bessie. Not enough ladies like her in the world.”

The two fell silent for a time, finishing up their drinks as the stars began to speckle the sky. For the first time in weeks Sadie began to feel something akin to peace. It was nice to be able to mourn Jake like this, and remember the good things with Hosea.

“I think I need to head to bed,” Sadie eventually said. “But... Thank you, for this. It... It helped.”

“Any time, Sadie,” Hosea said, smiling warmly at her as she stood up. “I'm glad I could help. Please come find me if you ever need anything.”

A lot of the gang had said something similar to her, but with Hosea she knew she might actually take him up on that offer. She nodded a final goodnight before walking away, skirt swishing in the grass as she went.

Hosea sighed deeply as he looked back out over the canyon below. As he'd done many times, his eyes cast upward, to the sky. He wasn't sure what sort of afterlife he believed in. But it was easier to think there was something beyond. And he found himself talking to his beloved often.

“Look out for Jake Adler, my love,” he murmured. “And let him know I'll do everything I can for his Sadie.”

[gam3r-girli3]

Arthur worked so hard at looking after his ranch, tending to the horses and cleaning out the stalls, so you decided that this evening you'd pamper him.

It was a struggle to get him to agree to it, the man never liked to allow himself to rest, always feeling the need to be up and doing something, but once you'd wrestled him down, straddling him and forcing him to stay still, he caved.

He'd often watched you do your own skincare in the morning and at night before bed, finding the process almost hypnotic and satisfying, but he'd never spent that much time and effort on himself. Usually he would just splash some cold water on his face and call it a day. But as you worked, he began to feel himself slowly relaxing into it, melting under your attentive and loving hands.

He huffed when you slid a hairband on his head, pushing his hair back to make sure no stray strands got in the way before you got to work cleansing his face with some miscellar water, making sure to get into every crease and corner.

Then you apply a nose strip, waiting fifteen minutes before ripping it off, holding back a laugh as Arthur hisses and let's out a string of curses, glaring at you accusingly.

"Don't you want your pores to be clear?"

"I'd also like my skin to stay on my face."

You roll your eyes at his dramatics before applying a nice, cooling face mask that would hydrate his skin and help soothe the sting left behind from the nose strip.

After a few minutes, once the face mask had been taken off and you'd added a few finishing touches like toner and moisturiser, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his nose. "All done."

Arthur's eyes - which had drifted closed at some point - open, blinking as they adjusted to the lit room once more. He looked so at ease that it warmed your heart. He was always so busy, always doing something, and to observe him in such a relaxed state was a rare privilege you didn't often get to see.

His lips curled up as he gave you a sleepy smile. "Thanks, darlin'."

"Anytime, cowboy."

hope you enjoyed, anon! ty for requesting ♡

[ pics in collage do not belong to me - all were found on pinterest ]

[the-karma-cafe]

Handsy | Javier Escuella

Javier's hand smoothed up your thigh, prompting the smallest noise of surprise from your throat. You glanced back at him conspiratorially, whispering, "And where is that hand goin', mister?" He smirked, leaning in closer to you, his gaze drifting up to meet yours. His voice came out low, hushed. “Wherever you want it to go, cariño.”

[softessencee]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ — navigation

hello ! welcome to imagines and drabbles of some of my favourite characters || main blog is milonakosiw, name is shae and im a sucker for soft/angsty moments with my favourite characters ♡ enjoy !

series. imagines. drabbles.

includes characters from — call of duty, red dead redemption ii, avatar: frontiers of pandora, star wars, etc.

[xmind-palacex]

This is just a lil Red Dead Redemption drabble it's omegaverse but sfw and Rivian is a place holder name because I couldn't think of what to name my oc

There was something nagging John in the back of the head ever since he seen that wolf up in the grizzlies. The scene replaying in his mind; a pack of wolves attacked him on horse back, the pack luring him into an ambush. He remembered getting tackled off his horse snarling teeth and claws aiming for his face, than something he would never forget it came fast in a blur and the sound of teeth crunch down on flesh and bone, the pained yelp of the wolf that was once trying to rip his throat out suddenly going limp blood dripping from its neck onto his face as his eyes locked with the creature above. Gold like burning suns with fur blacker than a moonless night stood above him. The black wolf with ease tossed the dead wolf aside turning its large form to the smaller grey wolves snarling at it. John thought he was afraid before till he took in the black wolf's appearance, long muscular legs, large paws, its fur looked thicker around the neck and shoulders where bristled with rage, this wolf was massive about the size of a bear. If it wasn't the fact he was the one on the menu he'd say the beast looked damn near majestic.

After that everything turned into a swirl of grey and black, snarling snapping yelping, fur blood. John took that moment to run while the wolves were to busy fighting amongst the black one over him to follow. But the stupid fool he was, was paying more attention to behind him than infront stepping off a ledge and hitting his leg wrong whilst losing his shotgun over the edge falling to who knows where. He was damn sure he was going to join it to but was yanked back with a growl to the small ledge before the back of his jacket was released. John sat there froze his heart pounding so fast it made his chest hurt, his breath coming out shallow and shaky, their was no mistaking the hot breath againt the back of his neck nor the feeling of a dogs cold wet nose. At that moment it was all consuming fear, that large black wolf came back to eat him. Turning his head eyes wide with a terror he's never felt before, expecting to see the wolf learing over him teeth ready to crush his skull but nothing...

John let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as he now glared at the offending emptiness. That beast couldn't have just left him right? Animals don't do that? Specially not hungry ones! Or maybe it's just saving him for later? Yeah most likely. John reasoned.

It was an hour later when a can of food landed on Johns head startling him before it settled between his legs, soft dents of fangs but not enough to puncture.

"You tryna fattin' me up?" John asked not expecting a reply thinking the wolf most likely left only to hear a snort as if laughing at him.

"Oh that funny is it? But uh thanks," John said and he heard a huff. The wolf for some reason reminded him of someone back at camp.

"Yeah know you remind me of this guy I know, real tall just like you're real big. Damn what'd your parents give you guys make ya grow so big huh?" John said resting his head against the rocky wall, his lips turning up hearing a sound that was like wolfish laughter.

John was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You doing okay?" Hosea asked, he had noticed that far off look in John's eyes for a while now.

"Yeah, say do you know where Rivian is?" John ask.

"I saw him wandering off into the trees there most likely to clear his head of all the smell, you know how he is," Hosea said a look of almost pity in his eyes. John gave Hosea a nod of thanks as he made his way in the direction Rivian was last seen going in. John had to admit he couldn't begin to imagine what it felt like for Rivian to become so overwhelmed from slight changes in a gang members scent.

There sitting on a rock was the man John was looking for, long black hair reaching the small of his back, he wore a simple black button up and black jeans with brown leather boots.

"Can I ask you something?" John said coming up beside Rivian his eyes obscures by his brown gamblers hat and a smoke between his lips.

"You can always ask me John," Rivian answered his voice calm and welcoming something he was always grateful for.

"I keep thinkin' about that black wolf and something really bugs me," John said turning to look at Rivian for a reaction seeing as the man had no scent for him to read. A ploom of smoke left Rivian's nose.

"What exactly bugs you about it?" Rivian asked calmly but on the inside his heart raced with anxiety. Did John peice it together? What will happen if he did? Will John betray him? Try and kill him? Rivian was doing his best not to show his emotions on his sleeves.

"It reminded me of you," John said. Rivian swallowed glancing up a golden eye glowing like a blazing sun just like that black wolf.

"So it was you," John felt a sense of relief wash over him as he sat down beside the man he considered to be both a brother and care giver since joining the gang.

"Thanks for makin sure I didn't die out there," John said, he never knew how the man did it, always taking care of them from the shadows.

[verai-marcel]

“That’s it darlin’, take me in.” The rumble of his voice reverberated throughout your body, limp in his arms, loose and limber from all of his previous ministrations. Afterglow? More like afterthought as he spread you wide and took and took and took. 

“Selfish bastard,” you said, your words bouncing as much as your body. “What about me?”

“What abou’chu?” he sneered, before digging his thumbs into your hips. “Take yer own pleasure, if you can.”

You reached down and touched yourself, wantonly whimpering and moaning for him. 

“Good li’l pet,” he crooned before he pulled out and marked you.

Okay fanfic writers, your mission, should you chose to accept it, is a filthy 100 word drabble, for any pairing, to be posted on Thursday, in time for American Thanksgiving.

Ready, set, write!

[dmitriene]

Arthur Morgan brushing your hair in a platonic way by the fire until it accidentally turns into sex because why not

the fire's soothing scent comes from gradually burning logs that have been piled up in a circle on the ground and the branches thrown over the top, exuding an enveloping warmth over where you sit between arthur's spread, muscular legs, slotting the curve of your back against his broad chest as he divides your hair between his long, nimble fingers, smoothing and disentangling through them, sometimes forgetting about the comb that lies next to him on the log.

arthur is as warm as the fire, as if you were to put your hand down and let the bright, stretching flames burn your delicate skin, however, his warmth suffuses right into your veins, rushes through the bloodstream and stays in every nook and cranny of your body, causing you to lean closer to his chest like a cat absorbing sunlight, feeling the vibration of a rough, hoarse laugh that runs through every muscle in his body as he allows you to curl into his form and cuddle closer.

continuing to weave your strands together and then unravel them, taking a comb to run over the ends, paying attention to the small shudders of your body as he sweeps over the area of your head that gives you a scatter of goosebumps, and so on, the arcane until your hair is docile, strands no longer tangled, streaming downwards without knotting together, allowing him to put the comb aside, bowing his head forward, squaring his body and nosing in the top of your head, leaving there a soft, lower descending kiss.

your shoulder quiver, and you feel arthur's face nudging in between your hair, fingers pushing your strands out of the way, allowing him to press his chapped lips to the skin on the curve of your neck, arching to the side towards every touch and kiss, your lips parting in a languid sigh, forgetting that there are many eyes around you, unable to resist, not with the way he looks at you, hungry, piercing to the very muscles from which you are composed, when you catch a glimpse of his blue green eyes within your peripheral vision.

the orange glow of the fire smoothes the features of your face, sets your eyes on fire, softening and making them even warmer than before, and arthur is grateful that he is sitting, because otherwise, his knees would have already buckled, and he would have fallen exactly at your feet, without a twinge of conscience, without worrying about the people around you, just like now, when he covers your delicate skin with spreading, stubble tickling kisses and playful bites, making you gasp, wrenching to hide your warming face against his stretched out shoulder.

arthur can't hide the sudden spark of an arousal, resist the molten heat soaring through his stomach, the heaviness of groin, where his cock swells under the fabric and underwear, filling with blood, pressing into the small of your back, lower, where he can feel the swell of your ass even through all the layers of skirts at your dress, and his hips canting forward to chase the ghost of a plushness that hides beneath, stutter, when he realizes that this is not a place to do so, groaning low against your shoulder blade, where he nuzzles in, before gathering you up in his arms.

the low snickering and teasing from some of the men in the vicinity are just a passing buzz through your ears, as arthur carries you through the camp towards his tent with long steps, you know you're going to have to be quiet, and he's going to help you do that, because you lose and swallow all the words when you meet the gaze of his eyes, eclipsed by dilating pupils, full of carnal need, all dedicated to you, his tongue filling your mouth with greedy force and drawn out, gravelly moan.

you're all sopping wet through your undergarment, soaking beneath the skirts that arthur works on to discard, rip in sherds that would decorate the floor beneath, press his calloused fingertips against the plushness of your skin, leave the indents of his touch on you, while ravaging you whole, spread the tender lips of your cunt around the sheer, engorged girth of his cock, listen in to your hiccups of his name, before silencing you, feeling the sting of your teeth's against his shoulder, as he puffs warm breath against your sweating temple, grunts sweet names, working you to your orgasm.

main masterlist. quidelines.