#rdr2 x you

[johnpriceslamb]

𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐏?

❛ you ask the Van Der Linde boys if you could sit on their lap. ❜

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┊female ! reader . afab ! reader . reader is physically shorter than chars mentioned below . suggestive themes implied . wrds . not edited . not proof-read . Javier ver touchy . google translated Spanish . John is very drunk . 1.4k wrd-count

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍

You want to what?

You tinker your lashes multiple times innocently at his flabbergasted expression, unconsciously tilting your head at his dramatic approach. From your tone alone meant nothing but the most purest intentions, he knew well you mean no harm. But hearing those words made his cheeks burn a tad bit brighter.

“May I please— “No, no, I heard ya the first time- I just..” He abruptly cuts you. He narrows his eyes at you, sizing you up head-to-toe just to see if you were in a playful manner. You weren’t.

He grumbles softly, contemplating. He scratches behind his neck for a bit before a deep sigh escapes his mouth and he leans back on the wooden chair he sat upon.

“C’mere.”

He beckons you to come closer with two fingers lazily waving in the air. Immediately do you obey his simple commands like a lost pup, hands clasped prettily in-front of your chest as you easily plop yourself on his lap. Your back almost hits his chest, akin to a literal brick wall from all of the labour work he’s done. Unconsciously does his large hands come to your hips, positioning them slightly just so you’d be a tad bit more comfortable.

It’s easy to tilt your head upwards to see his face, the prickles of hair sticking out on his chin is the most prominent thing from your view. He feels your stare almost immediately and looks down at your beady eyes. He has to stop himself from grinning at your unawareness.

The cowpoke could only narrow his eyes at the soft giggle you produced from your mouth, a hand resting on your hip, “What?”

You look away with a tiny smile, “Nuthin’.”

He lets out another deep sigh, before pinching your cheek.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍

The bottle of beer in his hand almost slips to the ground after hearing your simple question.

He raises a hand to scratch at the stubble on his jaw, mindful to be aware of the deep claw-marks embedded on his skin. The bottle was placed on the table with a clumsy clatter, back supported by the edge of the table.

“..Watchu say?” He squints his dark eyes at you. He must’ve drunk too much, perhaps he heard you wrong. His tone was always raspy yet so demeaning playful even. You took it as if he didn’t want you to, and you shrink meekly.

You stutter shyly, “I’ll just go ask someone else—

He felt his guts squeeze and churn at the sight of you sitting on someone else’s lap. All sense of proper etiquette is thrown away from jealousy and alcoholic behaviour, his hand is very quick to grabbing yours as he roughly pulls you back. A tiny squeal escapes your lap as you clumsily fall on his chest and onto his hard thighs.

Your hands are clinging onto his opened top to balance yourself, the smirk on his face visible as he sees how shy you suddenly became.

The strong scent of alcohol makes your nose scrunch up. He rests his chin on the crook of your neck, stubble lightly tickling your sensitive skin. After a few minutes of making yourself comfy on his lap and finally staying still, his hand comes to grab his bottle to take another chug.

“John,” You almost whine at the way he unconsciously starts to bounce his knee up and down. A habit he’s not prone to ever since he started drinking. It was almost like he forgot you were sitting on his lap after a few minutes. Immediately does he stop his movement, a low slurr of babbles and a soft hiccup escapes his lips, “Whoops— sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, he cheekily stares down at you.

“Y’know,” He hics.

“Yer behind feels kinda good on my-

“John.”

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

He’s a bit clueless at first, bless his heart.

He’s busy carving a small piece of wood with his knife, hunched over as his long hair falls, covering the sides of his face almost elegantly. He wasn’t bothered to tie his hair back, nor raise a finger to place it behind his ear. He stops re-shaping the small piece of wood as he hears a soft patter of footsteps from in-front.

“Hm?” He hums, his guard lowers significantly once realising it was you. The knife is lowered too, and the items were placed afar so it does not distract you nor come in your way.

“May I please sit on your lap?” You ask with those big beady eyes of yours, hands behind your back as your tone is light and sweet.

Of course, silence is ensured for a few seconds. His brooding figure straightens up from his spot. He quirks a dark, angular brow at your much smaller figure.

“Why?” He asks with a straight face.

Your cheeks burn, and your expression was alike of a kicked pup. He catches on quickly, and he immediately feels bad for seeming so nonchalant and blunt.

“U-Um.. I just, I wanted to.. N-nevermind. Sorry.” You shyly stammer, akin to a doe whom tries to stand up for the first time.

He easily suppresses the smile which almost etched onto his face at your stuttering. Cute.

“I didn’t say no, y’know.” He gestures you to come over with a simple pat on his thigh. You beam, eagerly toddling to him like a tiny tot wanting to get her stuffies. You sit yourself on his thighs, shoes quite literally lifting off of the ground because of how big he was. Even if he sat down, he still always towered over you.

He allows you to wiggle a bit on his lap, but a hand comes down to rest on your knee to squeeze it a bit as a gentle warning to not go any higher. You do obey, of course. Your back is to his chest, your hands positioned on your lap as you almost melt at how warm he was.

“Comfortable?” At each word he uttered to you, it was more toned down in pitch, a low hum always started. You nod lazily, a smile of satisfaction of how comfy he felt underneath. You don’t mind the way he snakes his arms around your waist. “Good.”

𝐉𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀

You regret asking.

Simply put, he’s handsy.

The smirk on his face is very visible. The log he rests upon feels even more smaller as he slowly starts to manspread right in front of you. The guitar in his hand is placed gently just to the side before he beckons you to come forth. You reluctantly sit on his lap, almost squirming at how close he was.

A hand on your hip, another squish to your thigh, a soft roll from his hip teasingly upwards, a touch here, a touch there..

“Javier!” You whine, swatting his hand off your curves. He could only teasingly grin, before shrugging. “..Tu pediste esto.” His voice serenades.

You try to swat his hands off again, but merely give up, knowing he won’t stop any time soon. You lay your cheek on his chest, lithe arms wrapped around his waist as your back arches a tad bit from not supporting your structure. His hands are on the small of your back, rubbing small circles on the softness of your clothed skin.

The embers from the mini camp-fire is light and descends off in the dark night, crackles of the wood calms your nerves down just a bit. He does tone his touch down just a tad bit for your sake, despite wanting to desperately grab at.. literally anything. He’s had ladies before, but by far was he the neediest when it came to you.

You can’t help but take a small peak from above, wispy lashes coming to tinker a bit when he tilts his gaze to fixate on you. A small smile on his face, as he greedily eats up all of the touch you gave to him.

“..hi.” You quietly mumble, a bit muffled because of the fact that half of your face is mushed against the fabrics of his clothes. A fox-like grin etches on his tan face as he presses a tiny kiss on your forehead, entertaining you by replying with a simple “hola.”

“You’re really clingy- and touchy. I hope you know that.” You grumble when his hand comes to cup your curves again.

He smiles lazily. “I know.”

[lowfunctioningoptimist]

Modern RDR2! Reacting to you calling them “Husband”

After that tiktok trend where ladies have been filming videos or taking orders and refer to their boyfriend as “husband.” Some of the fellas go into multiple categories.

Responds immediately with, “I ain’t your husband”: MICAH, Josiah, JOHN, Bill

Looks around and says, “Husband? Where?!”: Sean (as a joke), John (not as a joke).

Stares at you, waits for you to correct yourself, is happy when you don’t: Charles, ARTHUR, Javier.

Responds by calling you his wife/husband: CHARLES, HOSEA, Javier(nearly passed out tho).

Follows after you to make sure he heard it right: Javier, Dutch, Kieran, Arthur.

Gets cocky about it, starts calling himself your husband publicly: Lenny, Hosea, SEAN, EAGLE FLIES, Micah.

[borzoia]

Save a horse-- Ride a Cowboy!

Arthur Morgan x f!reader Includes; PIV, cowgirl position, drinking, consensually fucking under the influence. MDNI

A/N; My take on the save a horse ride a cowboy trend.

It was a summer night, the saloon was packed with loud mouthed men drinking enough liquor to kill a boar. Ladies were scattered across the bar waiting for a sober(ish) man to swoop them off. Standing beside your two friends you swayed side to side, your shoes were definitely not made to stand for this long. Ignoring the nonsensical chatter of the girls beside you, you notice a familiar face– Arthur.

Arthur and you had a short history, when your horse escaped from your family’s barn he was quick to chase her down and bring her back seemingly calmer than when she ran. He’d help with you little favors from time to time, you’d repay him with homemade sweets and some liquor. He’d never stayed long than a few hours at a time, keeping the conversation simple as he let you talk most of the time. He was a sweetheart whether he’d like to admit it or not, but you could never quite get him to crack his shell.

You push past a few drunks who have no spatial awareness and stand behind Arthur, he’s rambling about some big bust he had with him and his gang, wordlessly you pluck the cowboy hat on his head, placing it on your own. He turns around with a glare that could kill but his face softens when he recognizes it’s you, he lets out a low laugh, quickly snatching the hat back.

You hop on the bar stool next to him, “Someone’s ready for a fight.” You remark. “Always.” He says slyly, throwing back what’s left in his glass. The rowdy group next to him laughs wickedly, playfully roughing him up, “You gon’ take that cowboy?” They tease, Arthur ignores them for the most part. “C’mon Arthur! Save a horse ride-”

Arthur slams the empty glass on the bar, “Hush now!” He growls, the men erupt in laughter unphased by the man’s outburst. “Bunch o’ children..”

Eventually they sulk away, going off to harass another bystander. You and Arthur get to chatting, you bring up his horse and he happily updates you on his well-being, he’s opening up more than usual, going on about the mini adventures he has in his day to day life, the little feud’s he gets into with the gang. He swears he’s no poet and even stops himself mid sentence to reiterate that, in your opinion he has a beautiful way with his words not in the fancy way, but he keeps your attention like no one else. “Them boys earlier..”  You start,

“Awh, they ain’t worth a breath.” He says. “So you know 'em?” You reply.

“Drinkin’ buddies, that’s all.” “They got you riled up with that ‘Save a horse’ crap.” You comment, he lets out a gruff laugh. “You know what that means?” He glances at you without lifting his head. You shake your head, sipping your whiskey, He laughs again the time avoiding your gaze. “What?” He ignores you, “C’mon, I ain’t a little girl!” You say, which only eggs him on, he finishes the bottle in his hand, shaking his head as the bottle slams down. “I ain’t your teacher.” He rasps, bringing his elbows to rest up on the counter. “Please!” You beg, shaking him lightly, “Thought you wasn’t a little girl?” He snapped. You roll your eyes, a dull silence falls between you, you turn away, observing the crowd of men and women dancing, laughing and drinking, you turn back to Arthur with a smirk, plucking the hat off his head once more and wearing it, he turns to snatch back but you leap from your seat, walking backwards with a wide grin. He’s pissed, you push past the crowds of drunks, til you hit the saloon doors, drunkenly you forget about the steps and nearly tumble down them, Arthur snatches your wrist, “Watch it, girl.” He scowls, he pulls you back up to the porch dragging you away from the few onlookers outside. “Sorry,” You mumble stumbling into the wooden railing. “You’re alright.” He says. “Why won’t you just tell me already?” Arthur sighs, readjusting his posture and hanging one hand on his belt. “It’s dirty.” He says quietly. “‘Save a horse– Ride a cowboy.” He says, your eyes widen a bit, the hat now loosely on your head. “I ain’t that kinda man,” He looks to the side, maybe it was the liquor or lack of people– but you laughed, in his face. “‘What you got hidin’ under that skirt for me?’” You mock his voice, leaning into him as you laugh, “Arthur you are a filthy man don’t lie.” “Watch your mouth.” He barks.

“Or what?” You retort.

He sighs loudly, chewing the inside of his cheek, you could see the moment on his face where he thought ‘Fuck it.’ He grabs your forearm, dragging you down the saloon steps, he knew the route to your apartment, hell he had an extra key, he crashed into your living room, slamming the door behind you two.

Before you knew it his mouth was on you, rough beard scratching your face, he pulls away, “where we goin’?” He rasps, “I don’t care,” you huff, “I need you.” He laughs against your lips, “And I’m filthy,’ he says before closing the gap, he guides you to the couch, laying you down gently, he next moves were the opposite, a rough hand find your waist, the other pushing up your skirt, massaging your thighs, but not daring to go any further. Your uncoordinated hands work to unbutton your blouse, there’s unexplainable heat beneath your skin and Arthur’s hands are ice cold, “Tell me to stop and I will.” He says in between kisses, “Don’t.” You exhale. Your words are a green light for him, he moves down to your neck placing open mouthed kisses down your soft skin, your hands get entangled in his brunette hair, soft gasps leaving your mouth, he palms one breast through your bra, tugging the strap down on the other side, he places soft kisses on your bare chest while the other hand roughly gropes you, the contrast was enough to make you whimper. 

His rough touch leaves you for a moment, moving to undo your bra with one hand, he tugs the fabric off of you, sitting back to admire your bare chest, “Look at you,” He remarks, you whine, dragging his hands back to your aching body. “Easy girl, you’ll have your turn.” He chuckles, undoing his belt and discarding it somewhere in the room, he unsheathed his cock, you immediately reach for it like your greedy, “Ah-ah, hands to yerself.”  he strokes himself for a measure, fondling your chest with his free hand. He lowers himself, pushing your boobs together and slotting himself between him, he grabs your wrists, pinning them on the arm of the sofa with one hand, with every thrust he lets out a low groan, using you as he pleases. “Fuck..” He moans as you arch your back closer to him, your chaste whimpers and whines are like music to his ears bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly he pulls away leaving your chest covered in precum.

Wordlessly he hooks his fingers around the hem of your skirt, pulling the garment down in one fell swoop, again he tosses it with no regard. He wraps his hands around your waist, flipping you over so you're on top, he lets you get comfy atop his hard cock, slowly rocking your hips back and forth. “Thatta’ girl..” He praises, slowly pushing your panties to the side, “C’mere girl,” He pulls you close, your chest to his, he places kisses on your collarbone as he slides inside your dripping core, you whine at the stretch, “Sh.. shh.. That’s it..” He lets you sit up at your own pace, guiding you into a slow rhythm, “Just like that, sweetheart.” His hands leave you to rest behind his head, giving you full control.

With a hand on the couch you steady yourself, keeping the slow pace, despite your inexperience you’ve heard plenty of talk on how to please a man, you grind your hips against his before lifting up and slowly coming back down, his tip is bruising your cervix even at the turtle tempo. Arthur takes the hat from his head, placing it on yours as you continue to ride him, it gives you a new filled confidence, you speed up, boobs bouncing as your hips slam down. Your moans bounce off the walls and you’re sure your neighbors can hear but god you’re drunk on his cock, Arthur throws his head back as your speed up, clenching around him when you hear his breathy groans, “Fuck..!” He moans, his half lidded glossy eyes meet yours and he snaps, “C’mere.” he says, pulling you close once more, he grips your ass and mercilessly pounds into you, fucking every sweet sound possible out of you, you repeat his name like prayer as the thread inside you snaps, your fingers tangled in his hair as you cum. His pace doesn’t relent, “Just a little longer sweetheart..” He breathily groans in your ear, pumping in and out of your cunt slower til pulls out and finishes. For a few minutes the two of you lay in silence, breathing heavily as you recuperate, you’re the first to break the silence. “You.. are a filthy man Mister. Morgan..” You pant, “Don’t sound like a complaint to me, cowgirl.”

[ahqkas]

HEART TO HEART ; arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuela, charles smith

SYNOPSIS! how love feels like with him

In the vast expanse of the Wild West, loving ARTHUR MORGAN feels like a journey of ragged battles, a tale woven with threats of wounds and roughness that winds through the wild landscapes and starlit nights. To love Arthur is to stand by his side through the hardship of his outlaw life, to not be afraid of being hurt and to cherish the moments you’ve got to be blessed with.

Affection with Arthur doesn’t come easy, but is expressed through simple actions amidst the clash of your worlds. The reassuring touch of his hands against your shoulders that lingers to the skin of your fingertips. The warmth of his gaze that follows you anywhere you go, casting a light of protection over your body and soul. The genuine smile he gives you over a game of blackjack beneath you or a flickering campfire that’s between you two, the smile only you seem to receive.

Arthur cares fiercely and if you were to end up hurt by someone’s hands under his watch, it’d be over his dead body.

Love with JOHN MARSTON comes roughly at first but despite his stubborn nature, he truly loves you through thin and thick. He’s all teeth and claws whenever there’s a sign of danger near his loved ones. He’s not a flawless man, no. Stubborn and impulsive, that’s what he is at most, yet courage and loyalty bloom in his heart.

The outlaw consistently puts himself into harm’s way to ensure your safety and well-being. Although he often doubts himself on this one, he won’t give up without a fight.

To love John is to accept his soul and believe that whenever action he makes it’s for the best.

Like the unpredictable beat of hooves on a dusty road, love with JAVIER ESCUELLA puts you both through a rocky story, as dramatic as promised. The horse can be agitated, its hooves urgent. But the horse can be calm, its hooves steady. Javier’s love comes determined.

A sanctuary is a place of refuge or safety where people can retreat to find peace, reflection, and protection, whenever it’s within the reach of a physical space or within their own consciousness. His care is your sanctuary, sheltering you from the outside’s wrath. He brings out the good in you and your mind feels at ease whenever he warms up your heart.

Javier’s love speaks volume, a language specifically made to become understood by you only. Warm hugs, a gentle caress of your cheek, intertwined fingers. It’s non verbal, but you understand it all too well. Carrying your stuff, saving some of the warm stew for you, cleaning your weapons. You don’t need words to communicate.

A blooming flower with its unfolding petals brings out the same feeling in you as the love of CHARLES SMITH. Like the flower, your love with Charles went through the same process of growth and now you’re left cherishing the outcome of the nature. Every petal shows a page of depth, intimacy, and connection you feel between you.

His empathy and understanding makes him a safe haven for you, the comfort that hangs to him calls for you one too many times. He listens without judgment and offers kindness.

Charles goes out of his way to help you out in any situation, whether it’s by taking care of you after a rather close call or stash a dozen of poisoned arrows to your bunch, always lending you a protective hand.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[mlmxreader]

Don't You Shiver | Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ you already know what’s up. arthur morgan x gn!reader

"Do you want your hoodie back?" "Keep it. It's yours."

but instead of hoodie it’s one of arthur’s jackets? pls and thank u mwah mwah ^_^ - @mockerycrow ❞

: ̗̀➛ Arthur cares a lot about you, so it's no surprise that he does what he can to help when you come back to camp less than happy.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Your hands smelled of cheap cigarettes and whisky as you wandered back into camp behind Charles, a little bit embarrassed that you had wasted his time on fool's gold.

You thought it had been a perfectly good lead at the time, and with Charles’ skills complimenting your own, you figured that the two of you would have had it done and dusted by noon the same day. But now it was dusk, you were shivering, and you felt like an idiot.

You kept your head down and your gaze on the ground, not even trying to talk to Charles even though he reassured you time and time again that he didn't mind - he enjoyed the nice day out with you.

It wasn't often that the two of you had much time to spend together despite your strong friendship, and even though you had been an idiot… you did admit, you appreciated his company at the very least.

Before he left you for the evening, Charles pulled you aside, and once again told you that he didn't mind; it happened, sometimes leads didn't work out and even he had had his fair share of bad luck here and there. He wasn't going to hold it against you.

However, you felt terrible when you snuck into Arthur's tent, going through your clothes as he sat on his cot and watched you for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side.

It wasn't until he saw you shiver that he put two and two together and frowned; he got up and grabbed his semi-decent brown hunting jacket, and gently pressed it into your hands as he smiled.

“It's warm,” he told you quietly. “It'll help.”

You tugged it on, pressing your face against the collar of the coat for a moment and humming under your breath; you were always stealing Arthur's clothes, if you were honest, but he never minded.

He liked to see you wearing them, mostly because he knew that most of his coats were a lot warmer and a lot better for cold climates than your own. But he also… admittedly, he liked to think that everyone would realise that it was his jackets, and they would know that you and Arthur belonged to one another as well and that they couldn't do anything.

He ushered you out of the tent and over to the scout fire, letting you sit with your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder, his arms around you tightly. He hoped that it would aid in warming you up, maybe even speed the process a little bit.

You didn’t even flinch, leaning into him and doing your best to steal some of his warmth  as you sighed and swallowed thickly; you brought the thick brown leather to your face, pressing it against your mouth and nose and inhaling the scent for a moment as you closed your eyes.

You were a little warmer now, but you still couldn’t shake the icy feeling deep within your bones and in your shaking hands as you grumbled softly and shook your head.

Arthur turned to look at you, frowning as he gently tugged you a little closer. “I’ll get you some coffee and-”

“Wait,” you murmured softly, almost under your breath as you tugged at the sleeve of his blue denim-coloured shirt. “I don’t wanna be alone in the cold.”

He sighed, nodding as he settled back down; he did his best to think of a few ways to get you to warm up, but unfortunately for him, all of them would mean leaving you, and you didn’t seem so keen on the idea.

So he pulled out two cigarettes, lighting them before handing one to you and doing his best not to smile at how you tried to get closer to him, almost straddling his waist as you squirmed. He grumbled, his grip on you tightening as he kept your back steady against his chest and shook his head.

You stopped shivering eventually, pulling away from him so that you could shrug the jacket off, holding it in your hands as the flames seemed to follow you wherever you went. 

“Do you want your jacket back?”

“Keep it. It’s yours, now,” Arthur told you with a short shake of his head. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled, a glint of something mischievous in your eyes. “You say that about everything of yours that I borrow.”

He shrugged, leaning back slightly to get a good look at you; with the flames so close, Arthur could have sworn that you looked just like something out of an old folktale.

A great, fair king; beloved by his people and as just as he was humble. He wanted to grin and to laugh at the thought, but he could only hum as he pulled out his journal and held it up for you to look at for a moment.

“Mind if I…”

You shook your head. “Not at all, where’d you want me?”

Arthur balanced his journal on his knee as he looked up at you, the tip of his tongue pointing out of the corner of his mouth. “Just stay there.”

You did as you were told, running your thumb across the lapel of Arthur’s jacket as you stood patiently. You could hear the scratch of his pencil against the paper, and how he hummed under his breath as he stole a look at you every now and then.

It was never uncommon for Arthur to draw you, you caught him doing it often enough that you knew he had pages of it; yet every time he actually asked, every time he told you to stay still so that he could do it, you couldn’t help but to feel rather giddy.

To know that you would forever be immortalised by his fair hand, to know that he loved you to the point of creation. You bit at the inside of your lip, doing your best not to grin in case it spoiled his latest masterpiece. 

[nanamimizz]

tags: 18+ minors dni / kinda nsfw but i wanna be on the save side / kissing / making out / established relationship / grinding/ mention of cum / mention of spit and drool

javier quickly learns something about you that he finds quite cute for all intents and purposes.

you enjoy kissing.

small ones he presses to your cheek when you come up to him at camp. the ones that linger when you press them to his brow as he lays next to you to sleep. the ones where you laugh in between them by the edges of camp when he has to set his guitar to the side - he had intended to sing for you but finds more music in your flustered giggles than his playing. he knows those are your favorite, when you look at him with big love stricken eyes and smile so tenderly at him.

javier finds that his favorite are these - when he has you away from camp and all to himself. he had found a good fishing spot with plenty vegetation. javier lets himself relax as he reels in fish while you go off foraging for herbs and other plants. he likes seeing you like that, in your element, as you dutifully pluck at plants and write them in your journal. whether you use them for your benefit or for some poor bastards detriment javier is happy to see you happy at least.

he stays by the water until his bag is full and the fish slowly finish their dinner to disperse under the now black water. you are little aways, skirt hiked to your knee to avoid getting anything stuck on it with your journal in hand and pen in your mouth as you keep surveying the small patch of land for anything you might have missed. javier swears you’re eyes are sharper than his, being able to see so clearly in the dim light despite the light of the moon. packing his rod is muscle memory, letting his hands do the labor as he watches you - taking in how the moonlight shines on the highlights of your hair while you pick something else. you write it in your journal with a pleased smile and add what you found to your own bag that is embroidered with orange poppy flowers.

you lift your gaze to where he is and smile warmly at him. you must have honey for eyes the way his teeth hurt from how sweetly you look at him and you make your way over to him. you remind him of your horse, a muscular buckskin kiger stallion that is the most sure-footed horse he’s ever seen the way you jump over the rocks with your heeled boots. you breath a soft hello as you are before him, flustered and doe eyed as he lets his hands find your waist to bring you close.

“what did you find, mi amor?” he asks warmly letting his lips kiss your cheek as your arms go around his shoulders. you hum pleased and murmur into his ear that you found sprouts of swap potatoes and other miscellaneous herbs that are common place but you had run out of over the months. you press a kiss of your own at the corner of his lips and ask about the fish. javier grins big and tilts his head to the filled bag that rests where he stood. you gap and lean your head into his shoulder and laugh.

“i think you might be a better fisherman than mr. matthews.”

“don’t let that old timer hear say that, it’ll sting his pride more than he’d say.” javier laughs and it makes you laugh too, the evening air cool and pleasant between the two of you. your fingertips play with the ends of his tied hair as you hum softly, relaxed with the gentle breeze and the sound of water running.

“so what now - are we heading back?” you say, voice soft just for the two of you. javier smiles and his eyes crinkles like a fox’s when he presses his lips to your ear.

“we could…or…we could have some time together.” he whispers into your ear flirtatiously, the hands that were at your waist go down to cup at the curve of your ass. each take their fill and squeeze enough to make you gasp as he chuckles at how you fluster even now.

“h-here?”

“only if you’d like.” he responds smoothly grinning when you shyly duck your head only to nod at his suggestion. it makes him laugh, the way you duck so demurely against him despite knowing how you have him, when he tells you it always makes you embarrassed. javier nudges your cheek with his nose - "come here, look at me." as sweetly as always you obey and tilt your head up to him. javier is a good kisser - much better than you are so its easy for his tongue to make it's way into your mouth.

his tongue brushes against yours and you moan softly, gripping the back of his vest as he presses closer to you enough so he can feel the way your heart pounds in your chest. it makes him smile into the kiss even has he let's himself get lost in the sucking of your tongue and sound of your quiet moans. you part with him snickering at your flushed state and soft pants - it's sweet how you look at him with pretty eyes and he can't help himself to reach out and pinch your tongue. javier snickers at how you gasp but you let him, relaxing and looking at him with pretty glassy eyes.

"you really let me do anything to you, huh?" you nod, letting out a breathy little noise of agreement and he let's go of you. you'd always let javier does has he pleases, he's the only man in the world that has earned the right to do so. it's why you let him lead you to a thicker tree, and why you follow him to sit on his lap facing him with his back to the trunk. you are spread out on his lap, skirt hiked up enough that javier can see the ends of the garters that keep up the white of your stockings. tan hands settle on the exposed tops of your thighs and carefully sneak up to sink into your plush flesh.

his thumb resting on the birthmark on your right thigh, one that vaguely looks like a heart that he finds so endearing as he spreads you out over his pelvis. you are still clutching his lapels bumping your nose against his as you press kiss after kiss against his lips while his hands come to grip your hips. you kisses grow sloppy when you begin to lick at his lips desperately wanting to have his tongue in your mouth as you begin rock your hips against his lap.

javier pants softly, groaning against your mouth when the warmth of your cunt is felt as you rock against him - feeling how the delicate soft cotton of your delicates grows wet against the forming bulge of his cock. your breaths intermingle as you both feel heat coil in your stomachs are you rock against each other, you clit catching on the rougher fabric of his dark jeans. you tongue brushes against him as javier’s hands dig deep and ground you down against - it makes you moan as lightning dances up your spine at the pleasure. you flush against him, whining at how javier doesn’t let go of your form keeping you where he wants as he feels you grow more and more wet against him.

“javi, javi - please.”

“what is mi amor, que quieres de mi?” he asks you what you want from him and there thousands of words on your tongue that drip like the drool that escapes you as you experience more and more pleasure from how javier moves you against him. you feel his cock twitch, pulsing beneath you and moan - long and deep from your chest. you’re lidded eyes, glistening from pleasure look at him with all the adoration your lax tongue can’t muster. you only go to kiss him, taking him by surprise as you suck on his tongue, letting go of his lapels to instead let one hand come to the base of his ponytail and grip.

he moans into your mouth and comes with a sweet shock, staining his pants beneath you as you whine so softly at the feeling. you are pulled off to one of his thigh and you hump at it on your own as you let your lips go to javier’s neck. you kiss and suck at the skin, moaning as his grip tightens from his aftershocks. rubbing your cheek to his stubble you whisper into his ear as place a candied affection after another on his skin - “don’t waste it next time please.” javier is helpless beneath you, becoming lax and merely a place for you to grind to completion.

“don’t - don’t say those things when you don’t mean it.” he hisses into your hair and you whine defiantly as you cum on his thigh.

“i do - i do mean it -“ you gasp in between the cresting peek of your pleasure, letting your tongue go to lick the salt of his skin. “want all of you in me always.”

“jesus christ,” javier laughs high and sickeningly fond, “you’re a little pervert.”

“just for you.” you mumble, hips aching and face tucked into his neck as you almost melt into his chest. his hands rub at your back, warm and soothing as you come down from your pleasure high.

“can we stay here - just for awhile?” javier hums and agrees, letting you almost go limp in his embrace as your eyes close shut. he stays there, with you in his embrace til the moon is high in the sky and he looks down at you, and stays there a little longer.

[chaos-smh]

Closure

a/n: i love arthur morgan. this is very angsty. i sorta imagine this as a father/daughter relationship but you're free to interpret :) i would love to make this a longer fic well!

pairing/s: arthur morgan x reader (platonic)

content: mentions of death, grief, lots of angst, cuddly arthur! readers childhood best friend dies and arthur comforts them

word count: 861 words

Nothing but the flicker of a candle accompanied you as your chest heaved and stuttered with each sob that broke through you. Despite the nearby glow, a certain darkness seemed to shroud you, with your hands shivering against the crumpled piece of paper. Grief had always been a mysterious force that had weaved its way through your childhood but part of you had believed that those days were finally over. From what you had believed, there was hardly anybody left in your life that you held so close to your heart but you had never been so wrong. On some particular day, you had been drawn to the obituaries and there you had discovered that there was in fact someone left. There were hardly any words to describe how the news had left you but you knew that something inside of you had changed. You had always believed that the only form of grief was sadness, with melancholy people shrouding graves and draped in black but nothing could prepare you for the bitter waves of guilt that rattled you. However, with your current occupation, you were forced to bury your grief and managed to cover your mixed emotions with a certain tilt of your hat. You managed to retain your reputation in the gang but the sacrifice you made was becoming too much to handle. The dreary nights grew darker and longer with your heavy heart seeming to suffocate you as you would watch the sun rise day after day.

A brisk cough managed to bring you back towards the glow of the candle, your eyes stuttering through the darkness and towards the entrance of your tent. Part of you desperately wanted to maintain your guard and push through the pain but it suddenly felt too difficult.

“Arthur- I,” You croaked out. “This is too much.”

“Come ‘ere, kid” The older man almost sighed, his voice worn out but with a certain tenderness lingering with in it.

Arthur stepped through the tent with his weathered hand cautiously removing his stained hat as he settled down on his knee in front of where you sat on the cot.

Arthur gently grasped at one of your quivering hands with his thumb tracing subtle circles against your palm. For a moment he paused, unsure of what he could say but he was able to notice how quickly you started to settle down in his touch. Tears continued to spill from your eyes but the chorus of broken sobs eventually descended into quiet whimpers.

“I knew something weren’t quite right with you, kid,” He murmured in low voice, being careful not to disturb the secure silence that had formed between you both.

“Now— what’s happened?”

Despite the ache that lingered in your heart and the grief that clouded your own thoughts, it all started to clear as Arthur spoke softly to you. Even when you had first joined the group and everybody had been so sullen towards you with their persistent stares, Arthur had been there to welcome you. He had taught you many things about their way of life but you barely shared any words and you struggled to reach out in a way that you desperately yearned for.

“We grew up together— I loved her,” You sobbed out as you unclenched your fist, revealing the crumbled strip of newspaper.

There were so many words that swarmed in your mind but you struggled to form any kind of coherent sentence to explain what had happened.

Arthur scoured over the brief passage of text where a young girl’s name was printed in bold with the usual proceedings. When his narrowed eyes flickered over the recent date of death, he tightly squeezed your hand and a deep yet steady sigh slipped from his lips.

“I’m real sorry, y/n,” Arthur finally spoke with his words brief yet comforting. It was the way that he uttered your name that caused your heart to finally warm up.

“You come ‘ere now. I ain’t leaving you alone.”

Arthur reached out towards you but before you could say anything, you were pressed up against his chest with both of his sturdy arms wrapped around you. There was something about the way he hugged you that caused another sob to break through your chest but this time you were unable to tell whether it was your own grief or his sudden affection. Your eyes drifted shut as you focused on the steady beat of his heart and the rhythmic crackle of his chest with the echoey noise seeming to lull you back to peace. The stench of leather and burnt tobacco was strong but for a brief moment it reminded you of your distant childhood and you were suddenly back home, basking beneath the sun on your front porch with not a single care in the world. Despite your fractured cries, you both shared a comfortable silence and for once you felt as if you were finally safe again. He traced one of his coarse hands across your back, his actions almost speaking for him. He was there for you and you were beginning to understand that.

“I got you, kid.”

[obsessivelullabies]

hii! I was wondering if we can get a part 2 on the Yandere Arthur Morgan with a sweet, doctor, fem reader? maybe this time after a failed robbery, she realizes that she can make bank with being a well-skilled doctor during this era and decides to get up and leave the gang without anybody knowing?

maybe her name becomes famous in different towns (Valentine, strawberry, etc) but the gang doesn't know exactly where she is? thank you and have a great rest of your day!

after a few days of you not showing up to camp, arthur was worried. what if someone kidnapped or hurt his sweetheart? what if you were dead?

when the gang realized you had fled on purpose, arthur was heartbroken. he couldn’t believe you left him. he thought you two had something special.

arthur tried to save your image, reassuring the rest of the gang you'd be back soon with loads of money to share. over time, it became his truth.

when he began hearing about you, he felt a sense of pride and dread. why hadn't you come back to him with your success? at some point, arthur came to the glum realization you weren't coming back.

he was angry. he loved you. how could you leave him? he makes himself believe someone must've manipulated you into this. you're too sweet, you needed his protection.

arthur would hunt you down until he had nowhere else to look. when he finds you, he practically drags you out of wherever you are, lecturing you about how it wasn't safe without him.

no matter your reaction, you're coming back to camp with him. if you keep resisting, he won't leave your side. he'll watch you, make sure you don't leave him again.

arthur loves you so much! why would you want to ever leave him? he won't allow it.

slowly going through requests!!

masterlist! | comments and reblogs appreciated. unedited.

[lovearthur]

hi there! I saw that your requests were open and wanted to see if you could write this fic for me!

so, I was thinking, Javier Escuella x Fem/GN!reader who is really attached to their horse, like REALLY attached, and one day there horse gets injured during something (like fighting O'Driscolls or a wolf attack or sum like that) and needs to rest and recover. Reader is full of anxiety and has been all over the place since and Javier, the kind soul he is, takes it upon himself to calm reader down and comfort them.

feel free to ignore if it's too much or you just simply don't want to write it!

-☀️⭐️

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒋𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓓! fem/afab reader . javier is a sweetheart:( . horse injury . reader being a huuge worry . google translations for spainish

cariño (dear) & mi nina bonita (my pretty girl)

u were attached to ur horse, beth. like.. REALLLY attached. u adored her with every fibre of ur being.

which is understandable since ur lover, javier was the one who bought her for u. and u were forever grateful for it, too. ur horse is a beautiful brown and white shire, u absolutely love her to bits. u were always seen brushing her, feeding her, cleaning ur saddle.. everything. everyone knew how fond u were.

but unfortunately, she got injured. ur precious beth got injured. u were riding away quickly as possible while being chased down by wolves, only for one to be much too quick, and biting a aprt of her leg. luckily, u both got back to the camp with no more problems. u were overwhelmed with guilt and anxiety, how could u let her get hurt? out of all the folk in this gang? u got her injured. u kept telling urself it was all ur fault because... it was. ur mind was going crazy... what if she doesn't recover properly? what is she had a life problem afterwards? what if she doesn't like u anymore? what if... u didn't want to even think of that but u couldn't help it, u were so so worried for her. she was ur precious girl.

here u were now, walking back and forth near the campfire while javier was leaning back against a log, listening to u while u were rambling on and on about how worried u were for beth. ur horse was everything to u, u treated her like a real person sometimes... even talking to her knowing u wouldn't get a reply. u were scared, anxious, fretting...

"i know javi but what if- i wouldn't know what t'do with myself, she's such a special girl t'me 'nd-" oh, i dont know i jus' hope shes alrigh'." u felt ur voice shake a little, u were beginning to get ahead of urself and he noticed."hey, hey, hey, mi niña bonita.. im sure she's gonna rest jus fine. okay?" he says, trying his best to comfort u.. the sweetheart he is. he placed his hand on ur shoulder, looking into ur eyes. "ella esta bien, im sure." u look away from him, wanting to believe him badly but u weren't sure. "i know but 'm worried fer her. I've adored her ever since u bought her, jus' fer me." u reply as u look at him with a small pout and yet, u feel so lucky to be with him. he was always so respectful and gentle towards u.

"i know, cariño. i promise you she's gonna be okay. with you by her side the most." he says once more as his hands begin to caress ur hips. His words begin to slowly calm u down, he was right. She was gonna be okay, just fine and dandy. she was one strong girl, after grounding urself, u wrapped ur arms around his neck before u leaned in to kiss his neck. a giggle escapes ur lips as u looked at him, a red stain left on his rough skin.

"'m such a lucky girl, yer always so kind t'me." u say with that sweet smile of urs as ur fingers mindlessly play with his hair. "no, i think im the luckiest man to have you, amor."

javier escuella... save me... javier escuella... i hope this wasn't so ooc or i would cry im so fond of him:((

[johnpriceslamb]

Your writing is so damn sweet I adore it!!

Personally, I’ve got a habit of constantly stealing people’s clothes. So, how about stealing Arthur Morgan’s blouses and shirts? Wearing them and leaving the scent of sweet perfume to linger. Or maybe even rummaging through his wagon, trying to find something to take, yet being caught in the act.

❥ 𝓒 𝓐 𝓤 𝓖 𝓗 𝓣 .ᐟ

˚₊‧꒰ Arthur keeps losing his shirts. ꒱ ‧₊˚

𝐁𝟒 𝐔 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 ! female ! reader . hyper-feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter den him . OOC ! Arthur maybe ? . flufflfufffluff . not proofread nor edited . ~ 500 wrdz .

“Stealin’ my shirts without my permission, now?”

Your met with a hard chest from behind, breath hitting your sensitive neck. The little hairs on your nape stand from the abrupt sensation of his breathing, effectively giving you goosebumps.

Sweet.. delicate. Must be a new perfume.

He almost groans at how delicious you smelt. His shirt’s gonna hold onto that scent until he’s washed it. He’s almost giddy about it- a real sucker for lovely scents.

A hand comes to travel down your shapely figure up and down a few times, a low hum of approval escaping your beloved’s nose because of the fact that his hand smoothens out his shirt which was quite prone to wrinkles in the way you positioned yourself on the bedroll below- also because you’ve happily invited yourself over to his bedroll.

Did he mind?

Absolutely not.

A sleepy smile is etched on your face, dainty head resting on his chest as your back is snuggled to his front. He lets out a soft grunt at the fact that you backed up into him so eagerly, and he can’t help the soft coo escaping his lips as he pulls the thin blanket over you and him.

You eagerly turn to your side, the bedroll beneath you two sinks just a tad bit- barely noticeable anyway. Big beady eyes stare up at him, tainted with some sort of angelique feature which makes his heart stutter for just a moment. Damn, he fell hard.

The night bedazzles with stars, the only source of light was the moon which shone on your face ever-so prettily. A soft yawn escapes your lips, “Mm.. Missed you.”

“Yeah?” He replies softly, southern drawl escaping so thickly. Cracked lips coming down to press itself on your forehead, “Missed you too, darlin’.”

That silly little smile is on your face again. He feels your hands unconsciously going towards his just to fiddle with his fingers.

“Like my new sleep-wear?” You cheekily gesture to the shirt he owned that was worn by you as some sort of night-gown. A few of the buttons on top weren’t closed, more-so for comfort than the appeal to appearance.

He rolls his eyes, tugging at your hair gently from behind which elicits a tiny giggle from you, “Damn brat, you are.”

“This is the, what? The third shirt you’ve stolen from me?” He grunts.

“Fourth,” You correct him. This earns another tug to your hair.

“Point stands.”

“‘S comfier,” you softly babble, “warmer..”

“I know.” His hand comes to rub at your small back lovingly, enjoying the way you fit into his arms so perfectly. A little doll, you were. Just for him. And only him.

Your beady eyes sleepily stare up at him, “Where were you?” Your simple question provokes a soft hum from him.

“Oh, y’know. Just doin’ the usual. Rode to ‘Denis to pick up something for Dutch- …” He suddenly stops as his eyes track down your figure beneath the blanket. You quirk a brow at his abrupt silence, small hands coming to needily tug at his shirt to get his attention back.

“Are those my damn socks?”

[lowfunctioningoptimist]

Maybe I'm just basic:

But I like to use this scene below for figuring out Javier and Charles' usual types. Now, this doesn't mean they wouldn't think a woman was pretty if they didn't look this way. I just think these two women show what they normally like.

CHARLES

From what we can gather, it looks like Javier and Charles found two prostitutes to charm. Charles is with a dark-haired woman with a tanned complexion who is much shorter than him. We know he's going for her because he has his hand FIRMLY on her lower back when Arthur approaches these four in the saloon.

Her hair is in a long braid, natural and feminine. Seems that he likes a girl with warm, soft features. Big brown eyes and a sweet smile. I don't think he necessarily goes for women based on size though. It's probably easier to find women that are smaller than him. Her complexion, hair texture, and facial features might hint that she's an Indigenous woman or possibly biracial. While Charles isn't prejudiced, he might be inclined towards someone he can relate to culturally.

Charles is a bit drunk, but he's so into this woman that he's grabbing for her hand as she walks away!

JAVIER

The voluptuous redhead is Javier's potential date for the evening. She has full lips, bright hair, and appears to be the more outspoken of the two women. She's leaning back, but from the perspective of the shot it looks as though she might be slightly taller than Javier. This might mean that Javier isn't the sort of man to mind if a woman is taller than he is. And she's a whole lot of woman.

He's clearly drunk, but he's also clearly trying to keep her focus on him. When the redhead calls Arthur a 'mountain man,' Javier agrees with her friend that Arthur is "nothing but a pussycat." It could be inferred that he didn't want Arthur to frighten them off. However, I think that Javier was trying not to lose her to the more rugged Arthur Morgan. He is at her side, desperate for her to keep paying attention to him.

Based on how desperate they both were for these two women, I think it's safe to say they have a type.

[threadbaresweater]

I think for as much brute strength Arthur is capable of, he's so, so careful with his lover. He's afraid his hands are too callused to be able to touch you in a gentle way. He's even tentative when he kisses you, probably worried about his breath (maybe chews on some wild mint if he thinks you'll want to kiss), worried about getting his fingers tangled in your hair. He pulls you close so tenderly- a big, broad hand around your waist, a whisper of breath at your temple. But when you tell him he can he rough, he can't breathe.

"Darlin', I'm not so sure you know what yer askin' for."

Oh, but you do. And your grip on his belt buckle when you yank him closer tells him all he needs to know. "Don't baby me," you say. And you mean it.

[kaismasterlist]

| 🩶: angst | 🩷: fluff | ♥️: smut | 🖤: dark |

Hers (Dark!Abby | You) 🖤

The Farmer's Way (Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You) 🖤

[mlmxreader]

Apprehensions | Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ i miss arthur morgan dearly. it’s so bad. i humbly request arthur morgan x gn!reader (male!reader works too, idrc) w/ the prompt “get inside, you’ll catch a cold”!!! kisses mwah - @mockerycrow ❞

: ̗̀➛ Arthur's good to you, it's a shame that he doesn't really allow himself some grace.

: ̗̀➛ nudity, smoking, swearing, scenes of a sexual nature

: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You and Lenny had been out hunting, which came as a surprise to no one, as the two of you did often wander away for a few hours; you worked well as a team, as one of you would chase whatever you were hunting, while the other took the shot. It worked every time, and you often had a good haul to bring back to camp; at least, today you did.

Although that didn’t mean that the weather had not been cruel.

Heavy, pounding rain had caused many of the open fields and pathways to become deeply flooded and slick with mud; your boots squelched with each step, and your clothes were so sodden that they were heavy to lumber around.

You were shivering, soaked to the bone and quite literally dripping, by the time that you started to approach the campfire; but a sharp whistle caught your attention, and when you looked over, you saw Arthur standing under his tent as he gestured for you to go over. 

You did so a little too eagerly, surprised when he caught your elbow gently and pulled you under the small shelter; he was never rough with you, he made it a point not to be, and he was quick to pull the fabric of his tent down to protect you a little more from the rain.

One quick look at you, and he frowned.

“You need to get inside, you’ll catch a cold,” he told you quietly, letting you go and rummaging through his trunk. He pulled out a shirt and a pair of trousers, tossing them onto his cot. “This should do it… shouldn’t be too bad.”

You swallowed thickly, taking off your hat and clearing your throat. “Thank you…”

He looked up at you, his mouth falling agape for a moment. “D’ya want me to wait outside?”

You shook your head, shrugging as you hummed softly and started to unbutton your shirt. “No, I mean… it’s not the first time you’ve seen me naked, so…”

Arthur sat on his cot, facing the wall as he lit a cigarette; he didn’t mean to look, he really didn’t, but when he heard your boots clatter to the side and the thud of your trousers… he did steal a quick look, blushing as he was unable to move.

You were fucking magnificent; he swallowed thickly, biting at the inside of his lip, but he was too slow to look away, and when you caught him looking, you grinned.

“Arthur?”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“You can look,” you told him quietly, shaking your head. “You can touch if you want, too.”

The blush on Arthur’s features deepened as he watched you get closer; he slowly put his hands on your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs. One hand travelled up, exploring your chest with rough and clumsy fingertips before he stood up, audibly gulping.

“You, erm, you look real good,” he whispered, voice hoarse and heavy.

You put your hands on his chest, tugging at his shirt slightly. “So do you, Mister Morgan.”

His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he reluctantly pulled away, clearing his throat; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to touch you, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss you and to make you moan his name… of course he wanted all of that and more, but he was well aware that because of what you both did for a living, it would never last.

He was an outlaw, you were a gunslinger that Dutch had brought in not even a year ago… it was never going to work. He didn’t want you to feel the pain that he knew would inevitably come along. He really didn’t.

You were too good for that, you could have gotten out of the life; settled down, had a family, made something of yourself. He could never do that. He would die an outlaw, but you… you had a chance.

“Arthur?” You sat down beside him on his cot, shivering a little as the cold air blew through and hit your naked skin. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he shook his head, sighing heavily. “I just… can’t do this, not with you… you ain’t gonna die an outlaw, you ain’t… you don’t want me… it’s only gonna end bad.”

“Oh, Arthur,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “You… I do want you, and whatever the fuck happens… I can handle it. Trust me, I’ve been through a lot of shit. I can handle it.”

“You can get outta here, y’know,” he told you. “You have a chance to have a life… I’m gonna die an outlaw.”

“And I’m gonna die a gunslinger,” you admitted. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s all I’m good at - it’s all I know… I’m not getting out of this life, either.”

He spared a glance at you, chewing at the inside of his bottom lip. “You oughtta get dressed. Y’might catch your death if you keep your clothes off.”

You leaned over, daring to sweetly kiss his cheek; you didn’t mind that he watched you get dressed, in fact, you quite enjoyed the attention. You just wished that he would actually let go a little; that he wouldn’t be so staunch about not hurting you.

You had survived the life of a gunslinger for years before you had met Dutch and Hosea, you would survive a little heartbreak if anything were to ever go bad for you and Arthur. But you knew it wasn’t that easy, so you sighed, sitting down beside him again and leaning your head against his shoulder as you sighed.

“What if we take it slow?” You asked him. “Take everything at your pace.”

Arthur glared at you for a moment before he nodded. “Y’sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He thought about it for a moment; you were so eager, so wanting, and although he wanted it so badly, he still had his apprehensions… but then he saw how you were looking at him, and he sighed. “Then, yeah.”

[nanamimizz]

tags: height difference, gn reader, nsfw implied

for @ravengards-rogue sorry for always tormenting you my bad fr

john is never been aware of his height until he got into a spat with arthur at age 18 and realizes he was eye level with his older brother - neither dutch or hosea can say they have seen the boy that smug before. his height is something he’s always used to his advantage, whether for intimidation or flirtation. when he first met you he thought it would be another tool for him to gauge you, to see how easily you scare or fluster at his presence.

looking back it makes him laugh, thinking that something so simply would make you cower from him as if the look on your face was nothing but disinterested upon your first meeting.

a pretty face with brows furrowed and your lips drawn back in a disgusted frown - john likes to think that’s when he fell in love with you even if the version of him freezing on the mountainside didn’t know it yet. you stay at camp with one of your own and become a part of the group day by day and chore by chore. he’s even ridden with you on bounties and leads that always seem to go without a hitch when it’s just him and you.

you are beautiful with the backdrop of the dark blue sky behind you, and the golden fire in front of you as you carefully a strand of hair away from your face while watching into the vastness of the wilderness. long hair suits you, he thinks. the way it suits charles - it makes you seem nobler than any other. john leaves old boy’s hitch and comes to your side, noting something he never quite pieced together.

you are decently tall, standing higher than the other women and some men at camp (he snickers at how you are just an inch taller than javier - the revolutionary is always stung by that fact) but still you are shorter than him. you turn to look at him your lips forming words he isn’t listening to because john is too busy being endeared by how you have to tilt your head to look up at him.

it’s a sweet look on you, it lets him see the shine in your eyes and lets him feast upon the soft skin of your neck.

“are you listening to me?” you ask and john grins, slow and leisurely - filled with some sort of sleazy charm that he knows you aren’t immune to.

“can’t say i am, my angel.” you make that face - the pretty little peeved scowl that makes his grin grow as he tips his head a little further back to rack his eyes down you. he’s being smug again, just like the little shit he was when his world was just arthur, dutch and hosea. john can’t help that you bring that side of him despite the year in between you two.

“well you better start marston.” you hiss, face flushed with annoyance and your hand coming to rest on your waist. he barks a laugh, one that sounds like a wolf’s and that makes your tongue click in your mouth.

“i’ll try to - it’s just hard to hear you from down there sweetheart.” his teasing is strengthen by his drawl and he laughs loud and rickety when you curse him.

“go to hell john marston!” you hiss, pushing him at him and huffing in annoyance at how it barely moves him at all and stalking to the fire. john keeps laughing, bringing his thumb and forefinger to pinch the brim of his hat to bring it down. to hide his growing flush and the ache in his cheeks over this little fact.

[eveenstar]

Sequel to Meant to be

Tags/Warnings: reader is female aligned. Mentions of death.

When he first saw you, it was in Saint Denis' Tailor. Javier had happened to just be passing by the modern town when he locked eyes with oh so familiar face - at first, he thought he was hallucinating, finally lost it, but his feet still found their way inside the shop until he stood right behind you.

It wasn't until you turned around to face him that Javier realized that the speech playing in his head never made it to the big stage.

"Javi? You alright?" You tilted your head with a smile.

"Oh, sir, forgive me, I did not see you there!" The lady looked at him startled, of course, who wouldn't when there was a stranger staring into your soul. "Mister? Are you alright?"

You were as beautiful as the day Javier lost you, all those years ago.

"Hey silly, you're staring." Your chuckle echoed in the breeze as you held a basket of clothing under your arm.

"You're...you're beautiful." Javier blubbered out. "Bonita."

"Oh, thank you mister." There was a hint of discomfort in her voice. Her eyes moved to something behind Javier, but he was too haunted by you to notice. "I, I'm sorry but-"

"Everything alright, hun?"

Arthur?

A tall, society man approached them, and Javier swore for a split second that it was Arthur returning from the dead to kill him - but no, this man, this Arthur-lookalike was cleaner, healthier and...happier.

With his wife.

"Yes dear, this kind sir was just asking for some money. I told him we're saving for our child." Small hands protectively surrounded her belly and she smiled at her husband.

"That's right..." The man eyed him up and down, "Darling, we should get going. We do not want to be late for your sister's wedding."

"I had a sister once," It was past midnight when you blankly stated that, "She died young."

"Oh, mi amor," Javier turned around in your shared bed to look at you, "I am sorry to hear that."

Then, just like a memory, the couple faded away in the distance and Javier was left alone, with the dead. Maybe it was the tiredness, after all he was still a wanted man and he hadn't slept or ate much of anything in the past weeks.

How can a man sleep after the love of his life bleeded out in his arms?

"Javier!"

In a swift movement, Javier hauled his pistol up, eyes fanatically searching around the shop for your voice but was only met with the hardened gaze of the shop owner. Not wanting to be wanted again in a new town, Javier hesitantly placed the gun down before - almost - running out of the shop.

You should've stayed inside his nightmares.