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readingcoco · 4 months

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Mood board credit: @rivetingrosie4

So after months of reading everyone else's work, I finally got round to finishing this one shot inspired by the wonderful @rivetingrosie4! It's the first thing I have ever written so any critique will be highly cherished. This is hopefully a good practice run for a longer story I will be working on for the rest of the year.

Taglist: @photo1030, @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr

🍑PEACH FLESH🍑

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI | 5067 words | Ao3 Link TAGS: Plus-Size Reader, Oral Sex, Fake Marriage, Internalised Fatphobia, Squirting

The door almost swings off its hinges as you and Arthur stumble into the second-best suite Strawberry’s Welcome Centre has to offer. Despite being a dry town, you were both half cut and giddy from the two bottles of brandy shared over dinner with the newlyweds you hoped to rob blind first thing in the morning.

The room is womb-like, lit dimly with low wooden ceilings and dark red baroque wallpaper lining each wall, in the centre stands a grand four poster bed adorned with more blankets than you know what to do with, set diagonally facing a little wood burner that radiates out heat that stings slightly against your mountain chilled cheeks. You haven’t been around such finery in years, the excess of it all feeling somehow grotesque when compared to the simple pleasures you’d now learnt to love.

“My Lady”, Arthur bows as he raises his arm, gesturing to the empty room.

“Husband”, you giggle, door closing behind you. The ridiculousness of that word still not losing its novelty.

“I’ll be sure to let Hosea know we’ve got a regular little con artist on our hands.”

Your body is vibrating with energy, the thrill of the past few hours still coursing through your veins; how you’ll sleep tonight, you don’t know, even with the promise of such a comfy mattress to lay your head on. You’d been terrified of letting everyone down ever since Dutch had summoned you to his tent to inform you of the job he had lined up for Arthur and the role he expected you to play. You were sure there must have been some mistake, but when he explained that your upbringing made you the ideal candidate, you couldn’t see a way to protest. So now you were here, just you and Arthur, and things were surprisingly going to plan for a change.

“I can’t believe how naive they were. Was I really so soft when you first met me?”

“A little”, Arthur smirks as he sits on the oak trunk at the edge of the bed, pulling roughly at the puff tie around his neck, eager to free himself of the restrictions of such formality. You had been shocked at how naturally he found getting into character after spending half the ride there grumbling about it. “Suits you, though, a bit of softness. Glad we ain’t fully sullied that good name of yours just yet.”

You bristle a little at the mention of your name, all the good it had done you when you’d drifted from town to town, relying on the goodwill of others to keep you from starving. Your name hadn’t saved you then, but the Van der Linde gang had. It was them to whom you owed a debt, not your family.

“We best get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You nod as Arthur moves to hang his dress coat in the wardrobe, and you catch sight of him over your shoulder in the large cheval mirror that stands to the side of the bed. He looks different somehow, here away from camp, more at ease maybe, less burdened by thoughts. This was the longest you and he had spent one-on-one, and you had found it surprising how quickly you had both fallen into an easy rhythm. You had always got on well in camp. You shared a closeness with him more akin to one of the girls than any of the other men; he’d bring you fresh peaches whenever he could, knowing them to be your favourite, and you would craft tonics and bitters for him to take on his travels. A trade between friends. Truth be told, if it wasn’t so implausible, you might have wanted to take advantage of the sleeping arrangement that now presented itself - Karen or Mary-Beth wouldn’t have given it a second thought! But as it was, that was a delusion, and Arthur had already courteously agreed to sleep on the floor.

Your reflection distracts you then as you compare the neat up and down of his form to your own inelegant roundness in the mirror. What was the word Grimshaw had used? Fleshy? And more on display this evening than you had ever elected to show to the gang.

When Trelawny had taken you to the dressmakers, your eyes had almost bugged out of your head when you saw the mannequin donning the dress he had selected for you. An off-the-shoulder, deep emerald gown with a swan-like bust made from velvet. Quite possibly the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You begged Trelawny to allow you to wear something, anything else. But he would hear nothing of it. To con an heiress, you would have to look like one. The ridiculousness of that notion forces a snort of laughter to escape your mouth. Arthur turns to you, lips preemptively curling upwards, expecting you to share your private joke.

“Somethin' tickle you?”

“Nothing, it’s silly.”

But his face doesn’t let up. You hesitate, trying to find a way to make him understand without sounding foolish.

“It’s just, I didn’t expect any of this to actually work. I went along with it because… because I wanted to be useful. I didn’t actually think anyone would believe that we were married.” You laugh, but Arthur looks confused.

“Why not?”

You giggle, gesturing back and forth between you like it’s the plainest thing in the world, but he still stares at you blankly.

“Don’t play dumb, Arthur! Look at me, and then look at you!”

“I’m lookin'.”

Your smile falters a little, realising that he is going to make you state the obvious, that unspoken truth that you have been biting your tongue not to scream out loud since Dutch revealed the con two weeks previous.

“Arthur, please…” Your voice is quieter now, traces of humour all but evaporated. “There ain’t no way a man like you would ever take someone like me as a wife. It’s just not the way of things.” Your eyes are now firmly rooted to the ground. Shame coursing through your body for putting such a dour end to a fun evening. Wishing desperately to go back to the teasing and lightness of moments before. “You're deserving of a fine woman, not a stout, plain thing like me.”

Arthur rears back on his heels as though slapped.

“Ought not to speak about yourself that way or judge whose hand is or isn’t deserving of mine, calloused and scarred up as it is.”

You laugh quietly at that and lift your head back up at him, where he hooks you in with a look so serious it catches you off guard, brows knitted together like he is weighing up some great debate. He sniffs-

“You looked beautiful tonight, Mrs Callahan.”

He steps towards you slowly, as one might approach a spooked horse, head tilted and low, looking up at you with sparkling pools of tranquil blue. You feel the overwhelming urge to bolt, but something about the assured look he has on you keeps you tethered to the spot, unable to move as the space between you grows smaller.

“Don’t tease me, it ain’t kind.”

“I’ve not been able to take my eyes off my pretty wife all evening.”

You search his face for some small hint of insincerity, half expecting him to rear back at any moment and mock you for not seeing his obvious joke. But he doesn’t pull back. Unyielding in his approach until he is close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath on your crown. The smell of brandy and tobacco smoke wafts deliciously in the air. You hesitate to look up, not sure you could withstand the heat of his gaze without melting into the rug.

“You know, I’ve not seen you wear anything like this before,” Arthur gently raises a hand up to your exposed shoulder and fingers some of the lace appliques around the rim, his chapped knuckles lightly grazing your skin. Your eyes close, and a faint sigh escapes your lips as you lean into his touch. “Caught myself thinkin’ about how much more of your loveliness you’ve been hidin' away.”

You are still unable to lift your eyes higher than the buttons on his shirt. But then he’s tracing a line up your throat, resting his thumb on your chin and gently manoeuvring your face to meet his. To be invited to view him up so close and personal this way is a delight you want to savour. The white lines around his eyes from squinting in the sun, the crook in his nose, badly set, smattered with freckles, the chip on his frontmost tooth, the face of a man who has only known hard work and fresh air. But the exchange of looks goes both ways and suddenly, you are reminded of the indolent, dumpy girl he must view.

“Arthur-”

His lips press into yours so keenly that your overthinking brain only has room for the sweet sensation of his insistent kiss, opening you up to him, coaxing you deliberately with his brandy, rich tongue. A needy whimper is spilled from your mouth into his, which he drinks from you, like a man parched, tasting your lips and then deeper, lapping you up. Your shaky hands find purchase on the plains of his broad chest, and you fist at his shirt to pull him closer.

As though that were the signal he was waiting for, Arthur grunts out a low groan before dipping his head to kiss at your neck and cushioned collar bone, hands running along the stiff shape of your corset, reaching around your sides, your back, searching blindly for some hidden opening. You have never seen him this feral.

You pull backwards, struggling to catch your breath, lips swollen, hair all but falling down.

“Wait,” You gasp. “You’re drunk, you don’t really want-”

“Woman, if you don’t stop tellin' me what I do and do not want.” He laughs, but there is a seriousness that underpins his tone. “Now, if you don’t want it, that’s different.” He lifts an eyebrow in question.

“It’s not that. I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.” He offers you a look that could almost read as exasperated if it wasn’t so filled with fondness. Your chest is pounding, you're not sure that you have ever wanted something, someone, so much in your entire life. Your eyes dart around the ornate room and land on the glowing gas lamp behind Arthur’s head. “Maybe if it were dark?”

He laughs dismissively. “You’re still not gettin' it,” He pulls his hand down his face before interlocking your fingers in his as though trying to work out how to explain something simple to a small child. “You think I would be here kissin' on you, actin' a fool, if I weren’t attracted to you?”

You don’t know how to answer him, so you remain silent. Chewing a loose strip of skin on your lip.

“You think I ain’t noticed you're bigger than most?” Your cheeks burn red at the acknowledgement of your body, something you have taken great pains to draw attention away from for as long as you can remember - modest clothing, intricate hairstyles, humour and helpfulness. His thumbs rub soothingly on the pulse point of your wrists.

“Ever considered that might be something I might like?” In truth, you hadn’t because how could it be? You had never seen images of women who looked like you in catalogues or advertisements unless it was to market some magical cure for the ailment of looking like you, never read about them in books unless they were some wicked aunt or old crone. How could Arthur be attracted to such a thing?

“Turn around.”

A command given so soberly that you find yourself spinning without thought. He pulls your back flush to him as he scoops the fallen tendrils away from your left ear, lips pressing into newly revealed skin. Your eyes find each other in the mirror as he trails a path of wet kisses down your neck to the tip of your shoulder. Unfolding you in his arms as if to show you off to the two figures staring back longingly, enjoying their own embrace.

“You see?” He traces the length of your arms with his rough fingers, ghostlike as they make their way down the curve of your arms, one wrapping tightly around your waist while the other seeks out your breast. He finds you heavy and full in his palm, and your bodies roll together in a languid moan released in unison.

You observe Arthur’s eyebrow hitch momentarily in the mirror, and his eyes darken as you feel a tug from your side and realise too late that he has found the opening of your dress. He wastes no time unhooking each clasp one by one, your breath coming in heavy as you watch him work, peeling the right side of your wrapped bodice away from your corset, the swell of your breast revealed, covered only by the thin cotton of your chemise.

You lift your hand to help with the clasps on the other side, but Arthur nudges you away as though this is his solemn duty to bear alone. He reaches around to your left-hand side until you are fully enveloped in his arms, and you can feel his heart pumping in his chest. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head falls back to meet his firm shoulder as you feel yourself going weak at the knees, like it has been the rigidity of your clothing holding you together this entire time; one more loosened clasp, and you are liable to break.

“I want you to see what your body does to me”, Arthur rasps out as he unwraps the left half of your bodice, leaving your chest fully bared, apart from your underthings. You watch as his fingers delicately trace their way up your corset, and he takes each of your full breasts in hand, rolling your beaded nipples with his thumbs. The sensation courses through your veins as your arms shoot behind you, grasping blindly in an attempt to ground yourself for fear you will float away. One hand meets his left hip, while the other finds the tight muscle of his thigh before something more protruding grazes the pads of your fingers. Arthur lets out an involuntary grunt as he bucks into you.

You run your fingers along his length more deliberately then, and the fire it ignites in him is enough to rival the sun. Eyes still locked firmly onto yours in the mirror, he pulls your bodice from your arms with two rough jerks before throwing it to the side to begin work on your skirts.

“Face me.”

You turn, as he pulls you into a deep kiss, fingers hooking behind you to undo the ties at your waist. His hands glide down your back, over your ass and hips, skinning the fabric away from you until it bunches up and falls to the ground. Catching his breath, he steps back, panting, taking in the curves of your now semi-exposed form. You have never been looked at this way, hungrily, like your ripened flesh is the only thing that could save this starving man.

“Goddamnit”, He hisses, more to himself than you and backs away from you further.

Without the solid touch of him to reassure you that the last few minutes haven’t been some momentary lapse in sanity, a wave of self-consciousness pulls you outside your body like some sort of uninvited voyeur, looking down at the scene, struck by the implausibility of it all. Here is this man - Adonis, even, who could have his pick of women, not just in camp but in polite society too; you had seen how the newlywed wife had looked at him over dinner, and then you, dimpled and misshapen like a bruised peach.

Sensing the sudden shift in your demeanour, Arthur quickly steps back to you, resting his forehead on yours, blue eyes burning intensely, cupping your cheeks with both hands.

“You still don’t believe I want ya?”

You stare back at him, his lips so close you must hold back the urge to nip at them.

“I’m sorry” you whisper. Softly, Arthur removes a hand from your cheek and finds your own covering the curve of your stomach. He hooks his fingers into yours and guides your hand lower down to the hard line of his trousers.

“My whole body’s achin’ for ya, Darlin'.” His arousal is undeniable now, and for a moment, you start to believe that he could be true to his word. Perhaps certain tastes are only acquired by a few. Your thumb reflexively works up and down the solid ridge of him as he presses his lips to yours and lets out a groan.

“Now-” He’s struggling to maintain his focus as your fingers continue to stroke him. “I’m going to sit down right here, and you are going to show me what I’ve been wantin' to see.” He huffs out and pulls himself back from you again and sits at the edge of the bed, eyeing you eagerly in anticipation.

For a moment, you stand there, tethered to the spot, brain failing to remember the motions one must go through to undress, as though this was something entirely new and not the most ordinary of tasks.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply to gather yourself before loosening the ties of your petticoats and allowing them to fall to the floor like the heavy skirt before it. A rumble of approval from the bed forces your eyes to open. When you are met with a look so full of adulation, it’s hard to stop the grin from spreading across your entire face. You step over the crumpled petticoats with a little skip before marching to the bed and lifting your heeled foot to rest between Arthurs's legs.

“Care to do me the honour?”

“My pleasure.”

Arthur takes your stockinged ankle in his large hands, pressing a flurry of kisses to your knee as he peels the silk down your leg before unbuttoning the pointed-heeled boot and tossing them aside. As you lift your other leg up to him, he hooks your knee and carves his hands upwards underneath your bloomers, fisting a handful of the meat of your inner thigh.

“Patience,” you say, fully enthralled by this new sense of power you feel in your core like you could tell this man to walk through hot coals, and he would thank you for the privilege. You flick the point of your shoe towards him to undo.

Heels removed, you step backwards again, fingers tracing the shape of your body slowly, tantalisingly, noting how each swirl of your thumb, each flick of your wrist registers like a shockwave on the gunslinger’s slack-jawed face. You press your clothed breasts together, lifting them experimentally and letting them fall. And then once again. Arthur lets out a hiss.

“Woman, you don’t know what I have planned for you.”

Your fingers ghost the eyelets of your corset, the moment you have been dreading. The barrier moulding your shape into something deemed acceptable by society. You feel without it, you may fall apart. But if his face isn’t goddamn begging you to take it off. Who are you to disappoint him?

You pull the top clasps together, and then the bottom and your lungs fill with air as your body relaxes in kind. You stand there in only your chemise and bloomers, near transparent, backlit by the light from the fire. You hitch your chemise to your waist, inch by inch, as Arthur leans forward, almost salivating. Your fingertips slide under the waistband of your bloomers as you shimmy them down to your ankles with a wiggle, exposing the thatch of hair at your sex for a split second before your chemise falls back into place.

A thought comes to you then, and you're not sure if it’s in part to delay the inevitable shame of baring yourself to this man so completely or if part of you is starting to have fun, but you realise the power you hold stood before him in nothing more than your chemise. What would he give up to see your exposed flesh? What trade might he offer now? A peach for something saltier perhaps? You toy with the frill at your hem.

“Planned? You sound like you’ve been dreamin' on this for a while, Arthur.”

You step towards him again so that your scantily covered breasts are now at eye level. He reaches out to touch you, but you shoo him away.

“You ‘been having indecent thoughts?”

“The worst”

You cock your head to the side in mock outrage. The giddiness of dinner, playing dress up, and make-believe comes flooding back with full force.

“What thoughts?”

“Takin' you in my tent… spreadin' you out… all pretty for me.” He can barely get his words out as your finger lifts the corner of your chemise.

“You ever done anything about those thoughts, cowboy?”

The rush of crimson to his cheeks surprises you as you imagine him alone in his cot with only daydreams of you to keep him company. You have so many other questions: When did this start? Why has he only chosen to act now? But they will have to wait. You glance down at his lap.

“Show me.”

Like an eager puppy, he springs from his seat, towering over you, but you don't step back. Arthur’s disrobing is a much more efficient affair; suspenders are shrugged from his shoulders, shirt unfastened, trousers kicked haphazardly across the room until he is in a comparable state of undress, left in only his union suit. If you’re not mistaken, a similar wave of trepidation pumps through his veins, too. You eye the proud ridge of his length, straining the stretched cotton as Arthur unbuttons his union, first revealing the coarse blonde hair at his chest, which darkens with each new release, lower and lower. At the juncture of his groin, thick brown curls frame the base of his shaft, and as he steps out of the suit, cock springing free, filling the space between you, you're not sure you have seen beauty like it.

“Show me.” Your voice is a whisper now. Arthur takes himself fully in hand and slowly strokes himself while holding your gaze. You watch him intently: artful and precise like every other task his expert hands carry out. You almost lose yourself watching him before you remember your own throbbing need and push him back to his seat on the bed. You are ready now. Confident.

You raise your chemise up your strong thighs, the curve of your hips, swell of your belly, higher still to meet your heavy breasts that fall as the fabric catches them momentarily; you pull the cotton above your head, over your plump arms, until you are stood naked as the day you were born, goosebumps adorning your skin, like velvet. They prickle as you smooth your hands across your belly, as though touching it for the first time. Maybe you are touching it for the first time with gentle hands? You smile at this private realisation and then towards the cowboy, who is near cross-eyed with want, stroking himself vigorously at the sight of your unveiled form.

“Am I what you expected?”

“Git over here already. I’m tired of just lookin'.”

Before you can protest that you don’t want to crush him, Arthur is pulling you onto his lap, the ripe head of him grazing your clit and pressing between your stomachs. You try to hold some of your weight from him by awkwardly balancing yourself where your shins meet the mattress, but then he’s grabbing two firm handfuls of your ass and lifting you up with him. Reflexively, your legs wrap around his waist as you are suspended in the air. It feels like flying. You have not been picked up like this, cradled, since you were a child, and even then, by the time you turned 7, your papa had started to groan that you were too big. But Arthur lifts you effortlessly, kissing into your mouth as he spins you round and lays you out on your back, his body curving over yours.

His knuckles tenderly graze the shape of your cushioned ribs, rising and falling in time with his own. He slowly lowers himself down your body, taking care to kiss an open-mouthed trail down the centre of your sternum, between the valley of your breasts, palming each on his journey. Your body arches up hungrily in anticipation of each kiss, eyes drifting shut as you feel the warmth of his breath waft against the moistened curls of your pelvis, already sodden with want.

A flash of ecstasy pulls the air from your lungs as your eyes spring open, and you grasp wildly to pull him back up to you. He can’t. It’s too much. But the cowboy holds firm. You peer between your legs in horror as Arthur begins to feast greedily at your cunt. From the depraved sounds from his chest, you intuit that this must be another of this man’s acquired tastes. Still, the sight has you scandalised in such a wickedly licious way you find yourself biting your lip as a drawn-out groan rasps itself out of you.

A wave of impossible pleasure builds first in your chest. Then it permeates outwards, sending vibrations down your arms and neck, catching in your cheeks, forcing you to huff out pathetic little pants. You begin to writhe and wriggle under the pressure of his tongue, brazen as it dances along your slippery folds. Long, languid licks, lapping you up.

“Ohh-”

Your legs pull together reflexively in a vice-like grip, ensnaring his head. Still, if Arthur fears suffocation, he shows no signs of stopping, sucking you wholey on the clit until your body is quivering like that of a bow fully drawn.

“Arthur…” You beg as another wave has your head rolling back into the mattress. “Please… I can’t.”

“You can.” He rumbles as he pushes a finger inside you, and your legs start to tremble violently, loosening their grip around the cowboy’s head. Jesus Fuck. You jut your pelvis forward involuntarily as your whole being seeks out a deeper penetration. Sensing your rising need, Arthur slides a second digit inside you and curls them in an upward motion as if coaxing your climax to come quicker, harder. Don’t be shy, it’s alright. You're doin' so good for me.

You feel it then, pressure, unlike anything you have experienced from your own hand. Like you are a jug being filled from a fast-flowing river, you feel yourself reaching the brim and then spilling out, overflowing. Water gushing from within, swirling you up in its current and washing you out to sea. Clear liquid streams from your cunt, coating Arthur’s face and neck. As your body resurfaces the only way you know you have not drowned is through the heartbeat you feel pumping in your ears.

“I’m so sorry” You gasp, as you pull off him and quickly try to cover the sodden evidence of your release, fisting desperately at the blankets, distraught by all the new and mortifying ways your body seeks to humiliate you. But then you hear Arthur’s chuckle as he wipes his face with the back of his hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“I ain’t never made a girl come like that before. C’mere.” Arthur takes hold of your frantic hands and pulls you towards him, scooping you up in his sturdy arms, resting your cheek against the soft curls of his chest and looking down at you adoringly. “You got nothing to apologise for. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You silently shake your head, certain you will never be able to look at the man in the face again. He frowns then, trying to work out how to bring you back to him.

“I hope you're not ashamed on account of me? Ain’t nothing prettier I’ve seen, lettin' go for me like that.”

“But I made a mess.”

“Just as well Grimshaw ain’t here to scold us about laundry then. ‘Sides, if we hang them by the fire, they’ll be dry by the mornin'. No harm done.”

You feel his rough palm tenderly cup your cheek, angling your face to his and placing a light kiss at the end of your nose. “I hope you won’t see me different now, Arthur.” Your voice is shaky as it suddenly strikes you how exhausted you feel, body totally spent, laying heavy like lead in his arms.

“I sees you for who you are; that ain’t changin.” He says earnestly, “We should rest, though; we've got an early rise.” You can still feel him hard as a rock against your hip and wonder if it causes him discomfort. As your eyes trail downwards, he lets out a knowing laugh. “Plenty of time for that after tomorrow.”

After tomorrow?

He lifts you up to sit on the chair in the corner of the room, wrapping one of the unsullied blankets around your shoulders, another around his waist as he strips down the bed. Thankfully, your release has only soaked through the quilted throw, leaving the linens underneath untouched. He pulls back the sheet and beckons you over.

As your head hits the pillow, you feel the pull of sleep dragging you towards it, but then you realise Arthur has yet to follow suit. You sit bolt upright, eyes searching around the room for him needily.

“Hey, I’m just here. I weren’t sure if you’d want me in the bed or not. I didn’t wanna assume nothin'.” You practically roll your eyes at his honorableness, as if he wasn’t buried tongue-deep in you no more than five minutes earlier. You reach out a sleepy hand towards him.

“I couldn’t rightfully allow my husband to sleep on the floor now, could I?” you smirk as Arthur finally makes his way over to the bed and tucks himself in tight beside you, wrapping you up underneath his chin. It’s not long before you are drifting off into a deep sleep, with thoughts about what happens after tomorrow filling your dreams. 🍑

#Peach Flesh #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #red dead smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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colclay-40 · 5 months

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Isn't he just fucking beautiful 😍🤤

@arthurgoddamnmorgan

Credit to @fwjohnmarston

#arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 photography #arthur morgan x reader

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wisteriadumster · 27 days

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Neat Whiskey❥Arthur Morgan

･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ.

ARTHUR MORGAN X FEMALE READER

･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ.

CW➻❥ Smoking⋆ Drinking ⋆ Intense Kissing⋆ Unprotected Sex⋆ Orgasm ⋆ Undressing of Others ⋆

WC➻❥1971➻❥ this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥Arthur comes back from a rough mission and you’re there to greet him, you pour him a glass of whiskey and help undress him, leading you to fucking in his cot, in the morning you give him a cup of coffee and he dresses you for the day

*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧*

You sat by the fire, finishing off the cigarette you had. You took the final drag and threw it into the fire. The thundering sound of hooves caught your attention as a group of the men came back, you started towards Arthur.

As you approached him you could tell the job had been hard, dried blood covered his clothes, and he had smelt like he was a bag of pure gunpowder.

“Rough job?” You wiped dirt off his shoulder as he fixed his saddle, he sighed and grabbed a cigarette from his saddle bag. “You head on and relax now, I’ll go get you a drink, calm your nerves.” You kissed his cheek and headed towards Pearsons wagon.

“We got a bottle of whiskey around here?” You examined the wagon, “of course we have whiskey.” Pearson opened a cupboard and grabbed a bottle, “you got a cup?” He opened the bottle, “check that drawer.” You pulled the drawer open and grabbed one of the few cups sitting in it, “go ahead and put it back when you’re done.” Pearson headed towards the cauldron of stew he had finished.

You grabbed the bottle and poured the honey gold liquid into the metal cup, you set the cup down and pushed the bottle into its original spot before grabbing the drink again.

You quietly made your way up the stairs, listening as Abigail was speaking with John, their talking paused for a moment as you passed by the hole through their room.

You slid into the room, Arthur was on the balcony, finishing the cigarette he had.

You stood beside him and held the cup towards him, “hope you enjoy it, whiskey.” You looked out in front of you, admiring the humid swamp, something about it was calming, maybe it was fitting with the summer season.

Arthur lifted the cup to his lips and gladly took his first sip, “sure know what helps a man.” He looked at you, “what did you do today? To end up looking like a muddy pig.” You looked at his buttoned shirt, looking at the spots where mud was caked on. “Ouch, wow” He chuckled before taking another sip of whiskey. You grabbed his shoulders and turned his body towards yours, “unless you want to steer away every living thing within ten miles, I suggest you change, and at some point, bathe.” You began to unbutton his shirt, “I can do it, you don’t have to.” You looked at him, his protest ended with the glare.

He watched you carefully as you pulled the buttons through their holes.

You stood back and looked at the man in front of you, he was finely fit, with a perfect layer of chest hair covering him, you were truly breath taken.

You went to pull the shirt off when he stepped back, the feeling of embarrassment started to flood in, he headed inside his room, taking back the last of the whiskey.

You followed behind, hesitantly, he set the cup down and turned around.

He pulled his shirt off and walked past you, closing the door, he turned to you.

He stood next to you, looking down at you, his face giving a mixture of emotions you couldn’t figure out.

He cupped the side of your face with a hand and leaned in, slowly letting his lips connect with yours. You were surprised but quickly accepted the kiss, you wrapped your hand in the back of his hair, the kiss was swift to become hot-and-heavy.

He pushed you against the door, rather hard, but you were finally having the chance you wanted with Arthur.

His free hand was digging into your hip as your kiss was sloppy and wet. His hand travelled down your leg, pulling it up to his own hip. His lips pushed in yours, they were impatient and aggressive as if he had also been wanting this.

He pulled you off the ground, refusing to break the kiss, he headed towards his cot.

He pushed you against the wall, his lips started to trail down your body, his lips were delicate on your neck, reaching your collarbone he pulled back and looked in your eyes.

He lowered you, slowly his hands journeyed up your body, taking in every curve of how your body was carved. His hands pulled on your skirt, letting it hit the ground.

He froze as he admired the newly shown skin, he watched as you removed your shirt, how your arms crossed over and pulled the shirt over your head.

“Arthur,” you were interrupted as his lips hovered by yours, pondering if he should let this continue to the next level.

He caved in, letting himself kiss you once again, letting it be serene.

Arthur laid his hands on your hips, they pulled you against him. With his grip he pushed towards the cot, his forearm wrapped around the bottom of your back and as if you were fragile, laid you on his cot.

He leaned over you, his kisses went back to going down your body, he pulled at your underwear as he went down, kissing at your breasts, his attraction making him continue even lower down your figure.

He pulled your panties off, coming back up to your lips, before kissing he stared into your eyes, they were full of salacious intent before you heard the sound of calloused hands against jeans.

“I can back away now,” He looked down as he watched himself remove his pants, “please don’t.” You lifted his head back to your face and kissed him, “can we switch?” He pulled back and stood, “let me treat you, pretty boy.” You teased and watched him lay down, you put your legs beside his and started a kiss trail down his body.

As you got closer to his cock you could feel his body's tension, and his breathing getting heavier.

You start to kiss his cock once reaching it, you kissed up and down it as it hardened.

You slowly let spit soak on it, a raspy groan left him, you made it back up to him.

You kissed him, having your hand direct him to entering.

The kiss froze as you both inhaled each other's air as he slid inside.

He started at a slow pace, trying to find the right motion and spot to hit.

You were holding in the urge to let out loud moans.

Arthur gripped your hips, controlling how your hips moved in circles. His groans were low and raspy, making you feen even more for him.

You gripped the side of the cot as you went up and down, your eyes starting to twitch and roll at Arthur’s thrusting.

“Shit,” you whispered under your breath as you felt the overcoming rush to hit your climax.

“A-Arthur,” You stutter at the increased pace, “you like that darlin?” His words scratched your ears as you nodded.

The setting sun basked the room in pinks and oranges.

“Fuck,” his voice was low and dragged on, you wished for his voice to never quiet.

Arthur flipped you, his eyes studying your figure from the top.

You let a moan slip out as he kissed your neck, his hands pushed hard against your hips.

Arthurs breathing was hard, and hot, you looked at the sweat covering his body, surely your body didn’t look much different.

Your climax was harder than you had ever imagined, everything your body was building up for was ready to release.

“Arthur I’m gonna,” he took your words in with a kiss, “me too.” He mumbled in your mouth, his pace was getting faster he meticulously matched his climax to yours.

With a deep sigh you let out a moan, muffling yourself with your hands as your climax hit.

Your legs tightened, your stomach sunk and fluttered at the same time.

Arthur abruptly groaned at your climax, hit him causing a chain reaction, he pulled out and leaned over you.

You were both panting heavily, you pulled him down in for a kiss.

Arthur stood up, his hand offered to lift you, accepting, he helped you up from the cot.

“I’ll clean this,” Arthur grabbed a sheet of fabric and laid it over the cot, covering his spot of cum.

You grabbed your underwear and slowly put it on, “are you leaving?” He looked at you as he pulled his own pants up, “do you want me to?”

He shook his head, “I’d rather make sure you’re okay, and maybe get seconds in the morning.” He came up and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for another kiss.

You smiled against his lips and wrapped your arms over his shoulder, “fine, I’ll stay for the night,” you giggle.

You pulled from the kiss, “are you full, or would you like some stew?” He shook his head, “I'm alright darlin’, I’m gonna go to bed, if you’d join me.”

You couldn’t help but smile and nod.

You laid beside Arthur, his hand was twirling with your hair. “Goodnight Arthur,” his eyes fluttered, “goodnight, darlin’.” You rolled over on the small cot, a smile hard on your face, your cheeks blushing as you reminisced on the events of today. Arthur wrapped an arm around you, pulling himself close against you, his lips pressed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

It was early, the sun was barely starting to peak over the horizon, the nightlife of the bayou was quieting as the birds began to take over.

You sat up, looking back at Arthur, who was sleeping peacefully. You stood up and opened the door slowly.

John was walking down the hall towards the stairs, he looked at you as he began down the stairs.

“Mornin,” you were sluggish as you made it down the hall.

You and John had the same idea of going to the fire, “you need two cups?” He poured his own cup of coffee, “I’ll be okay,” you waited for him to pass the kettle.

“Remember, there’s plenty of ears in camp,” John laughed and walked off, you let out a cough and poured the cup of coffee.

You made it back in the room, Arthur was still asleep. You set the cup of coffee on the nightstand and sat on the bed, gently touching Arthurs shoulder.

You leaned in closer and kissed his forehead, pushing back his messy hair, he groaned.

His eyes slowly opened, you smiled and grabbed the coffee cup.

Arthur smiled back and sat up against the wall, taking the coffee you offered.

“Sleep alright?” He nodded and took a sip, “been sleepin’ on a cot for about twenty years, I’m used to it.” He took another sip of coffee, “I’ve got stuff to do, I’m sure you do too.”

You shifted to the edge of the cot, Arthur set his coffee down and pulled you in, nuzzling himself in your neck. His kisses felt so good, you were addicted, “Arthur please.”

He let go of you and watched you grab your clothes, he stood and grabbed your skirt from you.

“Arthur,” he laughed, “let me help you out darlin’.” He held the skirt low, you put your arm on his shoulder and stepped into the skirt.

He pulled it up your legs, spinning you around and tightening the back of it for you.

Arthur grabbed your shirt and pulled it down your head, he let go, going back to his unfinished coffee. You put your arms through the sleeves and tucked your shirt into your skirt, “can we do this again,” you grabbed your boots, “soon?”

Arthur removed the cup from his lips and set it down, “oh darlin’ I think i can fit you in my schedule.” He followed you to the door and kissed you once more, “see you around Arthur.”

#red dead redemption 2 #fanfiction #writing #red dead fanfic #fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #x reader

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rayeee10101 · 8 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.

Summary~ Arthur has to make a choice, you or Mary?

Warnings~ Angst and fluff

Word count~ 1k

(not my photo, credit to the owners.)

"(Y/n)! Wait!" Arthur called out for you, as he followed you across the camp.

You couldn't even look at him right now or you'd probably punch him in the face. How could he go out and see Mary again!? You and him have been together for almost 5 months now and he goes out to see her! You ignored him and made your way to your horse, you quickly untied her reins from the wooden post and saddled her up.

"(Y/n), please just let me explain, it's not how it seems." Arthur pleaded, grabbing a hold of your wrist. You spun around and landed a hard smack right across his cheek causing him to stumble back a bit.

"Do not touch me!" you snapped, getting a few concerned looks from the others in the camp but you didn't care right now. All you could feel was the anger boiling inside of you.

Arthur backed away and watched as you got onto your horse and quickly made your way out of the camp. He wanted to chase after you but he knew that would only make you more upset. He sighed and kicked the ground causing some dirt to fly up into the air. He turned around and slowly made his way to one of the tables where Grimshaw was sitting. He sat down across from her and let out a long sigh causing her to look up at him.

"I saw what happened.." she said, pausing and watching his reaction before continuing. "Arthur, listen to me, and listen carefully, okay?" Grimshaw placed a hand ontop of Arthur's and looked at him. Arthur nodded, signalling he was listening to her but he just couldn't meet her stern gaze.

"(Y/n), loves you a lot, and I know you love her too but you're hurting her. This is the third time you've gone back to see Mary, how do you think (y/n) feels? You're breaking her heart, Arthur. You have to let go of Mary for things to ever work with (y/n)."

Arthur sighed and looked up at her, "I know but I just.." he thought for a moment, "I just can't do it. I've tried all these years to forget about her but she just keeps playing me like a damn fool."

"Arthur. You're going to lose (y/n), so it's up to you to decide who you'd rather have in your life. Someone who actually loves you or a girl that keeps playing you like a fiddle." She said before standing up and patting his shoulder. "I hope you make the right decision."

Arthur watched as Miss Grimshaw walked away and he ran his hand through his messy blonde hair, he loved you dearly but Mary just had a strong grip on him, it was like she had him on a leash and he didn't know how to break free from it.

You wiped your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in them. You didn't want to cry over him, not again, you cried over him too many times now. If he loved Mary he could be with her because you were tired of waiting for him to let her go. You sighed and pulled the reins of your horse, bringing her to a stop. It was getting late but you didn't want to go back to camp, so you'd decided to camp out here for the night. You picked a fairly hiden spot in the woods and started setting up your tent and preparing the fire.

Night came fairly quick and you sat by the warm fire thinking of what to do with your life now. The thought of ending things with Arthur crossed your mind and it made your heart ache thinking of that, how would you even be able to stay in the camp if you and him broke up? You let out a long groan and rubbed your hand over your face, all these thoughts filled your head, it was like a never ending battle.

You stood up and walked over to your tent and crawled inside, you needed to shut your mind off and the only way to do that was to sleep. You laid down and closed your eyes, allowing your body to finally relax as you drifted off into a light sleep.

Arthur found himself watching the trail that led into the camp, waiting to see you and your horse Honey, trotting back into camp but almost two days had passed and you still hadn't returned. He'd went out to look for you a few times but there was no trace of you anywhere. Hosea kept telling him to wait it out and give you time, saying you just needed some time to think and figure yourself out but what if something happened to you?

He thought about everything Miss Grimshaw had said and he loved you and wanted you, he didn't want Mary anymore, his head suddenly snapped up from where he was staring at the ground when he heard your soft voice greeting Molly and Tilly. He quickly stood up and made his way over to you but you didn't even acknowledge him, you just headed straight for you tent.

"(Y/n).. You're back, I was gettin worried ya'know?" You scoffed and started shoving some of your things into a small bag you had.

"Uhm.. What are you doing?"

"What do you care Arthur? Won't you just leave me the hell alone!" You hissed as you continued to pack your things.

You had made the decision to leave the gang and start working an honest job in Saint Denis that you were afford a while back.

"Are you leaving?" Arthur asked, his voice coming out shakier than he intended.

You felt your heart ache at the sound of his voice and you turned to look at him. You could see the fear in his eyes as he waited for your reply and you fought the tears that started to prick at your eyes.

"Yes, I am Arthur, I can't do this anymore. I gave you so many chances and every time you still went back to her and I can't put up with it anymore. I deserve something better than this, I know my worth."

Arthur sucked in a sharp breath and looked into your eyes. "(Y/n).. can we please just talk?" "What is there to say? You proved who you're loyal to, and it's clearly not me."

"(Y/n)," Arthur grabbed your hand gently and sighed. "I sent her a letter, I told her I don't want to see her again. I only want to be with you." you froze, dropping the bag that was in your hand. You didn't expect this, you didn't know how to reply, you were at a complete loss for words.

Suddenly all the feelings you had pushed down came out and you let out a sod as you fell into his arms. It was like a flood gate had opened up and let out all the feelings you had ever tried to hide. Arthur held you close and rubbed your back gently.

"Let's go somewhere and talk, okay?" all you could do was nod your head as you pulled away from him. He kept an arm around your waist as he led you to his horse and pulled himself ontop of the horse. He held out his hand and you grabbed it allowing him to pull you up onto the horse. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pushed your face into his back as he gave the horse a small kick and started trotting out of the camp. You both rode in silence for about 10 minutes before he pulled on the horse's reins and came to a stop next to a small pond.

He got off the horse, grabbing a hold of your waist and pulling you off the horse and setting you onto the ground. He turned and walked over to the pond, sitting next to it and looking out over the water. You followed him and sat down next to him also, taking a deep breath.

"Did you really send her that letter?" you asked, gazing out at the water. "I did." Arthur replied, sounding tired.

"I love you, (Y/n)." you froze, you and him hadn't said that to each other yet. "What?" you blurted out, you were shocked by what he said.

"I love you. I don't love Mary anymore. I know you probably don't believe me but I mean it." you nodded your head, he sounded sincere in what he was saying. "I love you too, Arthur."

Arthur smiled and wrapped his strong arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You felt your body relax into his touch as you looked up at him. He was already looking back at you, you gave him a soft smile and leaned forward planting a kiss onto his lips. He instantly kissed you back, he kissed you back with passion like he'd waited a lifetime to kiss you. You pulled away from the kiss after a few moments and smiled at him.

"I'm sorry about slapping you the other day.." you said sheepishly, he laughed and ran his fingers through your hair. "I deserved it, don't apologize." you giggled. "I've missed you, Arthur."

"I've missed you too darling, I'm sorry for everything, I've put you through. I really don't deserve you." you blushed at the new pet name he'd given you. "Stop it Arthur, I don't wanna hear you talkin bad about yourself anymore, you got it?"

He laughed and nodded, "yes ma'am."

You both watched the sunset over the horizon as he held you in his arms, you were happy to be back with him and so thankful you didn't leave for Saint Denis, how could you live without this dumb cowboy of yours?

a/n~ sorry if this sucked, halfway through writing it I started fighting with my boyfriend so my thoughts are all over the place lol and I really didn't have the energy to proof read it but whatever, it is what it is.

#rdr #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #van der linde gang #red dead redemption x reader #rdr fandom #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption arthur

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cherubdollyy · 9 months

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modern arthur morgan au

Little head canon for modern arthur. Reader's just moved into a new apartment and Arthur is the handyman 👉👈 I just love modern arthur!!!!

No trigger warnings I can think of, no smut and reader is g/n. I've been writing a lot but nothing's finished yet so have this!!

You move into a new apartment and all the neighbours are nosey, wanting to know who you are and what you're all about. Except one.

It's a while before you see the elusive Arthur Morgan. Falling into your daily routine you see him occasionally and don't get more of a grunt of "Mornin'" out of him.

Soon you'll notice that even though he mainly keeps to himself, he's the one that always helps out his other neighbours. Planing doors, fitting worktops, even fixing the light fittings in the hallway so the elderly woman on the ground floor doesn't trip in the dark winter mornings.

You look around your apartment at all the things you've been meaning to set up. It couldn't hurt asking him for some help.

You bring a cold lemonade to him while he's setting up your bathroom cabinet, a sweaty sheen over his huge arms that are on show from the slightly damp white tank top he's wearing.

"Thanks for that. Sorry about the mess.", he gestures to his tool bag, the contents of which are strewn over your bathroom floor.

You can't help but be a little shy around him, not wanting to ask too many questions and annoy him but wanting to know more.

You find yourself coming up with more excuses for him to come up and start making it a tradition to have cold beers in the fridge. You start making your homemade cookies each time too and you wonder if he's so eager to see you each time, or help himself to all the free food you have on offer.

He shows you how to protect the place from mold, how to use a drill and even gets you your own little toolbox. You don't let him leave without leftovers for dinner and making sure he's looking after himself. Eventually he starts lingering by the door a little longer when it's time to leave.

The neighbours like to get together in the shared garden and all bring food in the summer months. It doesn't go unnoticed by them at how relaxed the usually stoic Arthur Morgan is around you and naturally tongues start wagging.

"Nah they wouldn't want anything to do with me, they're just bein' nice." he says to everyone but he can't help but wondering... maybe he should fix your sink, the taps were looking mighty leaky.

#my writing #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #gn reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead fanfic #modern au #video games #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan modern au #rdr2 au #rdr2 modern au

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ghostheartfelt · 10 months

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*:･｡☆ tags: damsel in distress!reader, reader will have a father daughter relationship with dutch, slowburn romance, no use of y/n, reader is nicknamed "Miracle" once she settles in with the gang. THIS IS SET BEFORE THE FLEE OF BLACKWATER.

*:･｡☆ warnings: mentions of kidnapping/attempts of kidnapping, blood and gore (mostly js people gettin shot n shit 🙏🏼 it's rdr afterall.) period typical undertones of sexism. canon typical violence. mentions of animal abuse/neglect

〔☆〕 desc: during a little break at the saloon, you're interrupted by an O'Driscoll who presses a gun to your back and forces you out of the saloon for a kidnapping. the Van Der Linde group comes to your rescue.

.. ☆ next part | masterlist (tbe)

—✩ A WOLF’S BANE P. ⅰ ✩—

word count — 2.3k

a/n: hey! this is part one of my arthur morgan x fem!reader slowburn series. i know it starts off a little funky, but i promise you’re in for a treat!! feedback/ideas are greatly appreciated! 🤭🪭 this part is mostly focused on the reader developing relationships with the other members of the gang. (p.s i promise reader isn’t a mary sue 😭 this is just for build up!)

Your hands stay busy loading and spinning the barrel of your duel Widowmakers. They were beautifully customized, and you just purchased a brand new cylinder from the gunsmith. There were elk carvings on the wood handle—your holsters having the same stitching as they rest on your waist under your coat—and freshly polished metals.

You were quietly listening in on the discussions that swarmed at every angle in the Saloon. You’d traveled from Strawberry to Valentine to receive your prescription from Doctor Calloway.

Smithfield has tried a fair amount to ask you out for a dinner, or a horseback ride to Saint Denis, and as much as you loved horseback riding, you declined kindly.

He mailed you a letter asking that you come to his office to obtain it. You caught a stagecoach and paid five dollars for the ride, then took yourself to the saloon first for a quick lamb heart stew, which was something you always made sure to grab upon visiting Valentine, making you a familiar customer with the owner, Mr. Smithfield.

As you stood and adjusted your skirt while stuffing your revolver into its holster that stayed hidden under your coat, a barrel of a gun pressed against your back. Your eyes shot open and you refused to turn your head to see who your threat was.

The man stunk of alcohol, cigarettes, and pure grime, and the scent only grew stronger as you felt his face press against your hair to whisper in your ear.

“Act natural, pretty thing.”

His body closed in against your back with his hip bones digging into your waist. He wasn’t very tall, nor muscular, perhaps about five foot six.

“Do you always greet a pretty woman like this?” You hiss quietly as he twists the gun into your back, guiding you out. He makes sure to snatche your purse from off the table you were seated at—which you didn’t mind too much since you were struggling financially with only about thirty dollars to your name—you didn’t even get to pay your tab off. You hoped Smithfield would understand.

“Shut up and move, girl.” He rejoined.

Undoubtedly, your heart raced in your chest as you both stepped out of the Saloon. There’s another stagecoach with a few other men seated, causing your eyes to widen. This is a kidnapping, not a robbery, you thought, and that was when sweat began to head down from your scalp.

“She’s a good one, Welts!” one snorted. He had crooked and several missing teeth, a lazy eye, and his brown hair was greasy, and he just looked downright disgusting.

“O’Driscoll will be real happy!”

That was when you froze in your place as you were turned around and patted down for any extra goods; the male in front of you had managed to find a pearl necklace from the depths of your dress pocket, and you scrambled to try and grab it from him.

“Please, don’t take that, take anything else.” You were surprised to find yourself pleading to this man. To an O’Driscoll.

Welt’s head tilted and he let out a loud laugh before he took his revolver, slamming the barrel and cylinder rough against your cheekbone, immediate pain and heat surged as it quickly began to swell, and your body twists, landing on the ground with your palms flat in the dirt below you.

You reach one of your hands—that had grains of tiny rocks stuck in your bleeding skin—up to touch your cheek, a quick feeling of regret causing you to yank your head away from the pain.

“You’re a scum!” you try to turn your head, yet he grabs a full fist of your hair and unsheathes his knife, cutting off a thick chunk of your locks. You gasped weakly.

The men above you bursted into laughter while instead tears stung your eyes. “Speak when spoken to, woman,” he grimaced. You feel for the hair he sliced, and your lip quivers. These were definitely Colm O’Driscoll’s men.

Welts gripped your upper arm, and pulled you onto your feet. Accidentally, you rip your dress from your feet getting caught in the fabric as you struggle to stand with the man swinging you around like a lasso.

You feel his revolver get pinned into your back once again as he taps the barrel against you, gesturing you to walk towards the coach. You hesitated, which he didn’t take kindly. You heard the hammer click, and that’s when you caught yourself walking.

“Hello, gentlemen!” an exuberant voice joins in, and you turn your head to look at the man. He was neatly shaven, besides just a bit of clean stubble along his chin. His hair seemed slicked back at the top, even with a black hat, and he was in a long-sleeved white and blue striped shirt, a black vest, and black slacks.

His boots were black with brown spurs. He had his hand on his belt, though not over his holsters that you think were home to dual revolvers. You were just about tired of seeing men with guns.

Guns. You thought. I’m as dumb as a rat—you shimmy your arm down to press against your waist, feeling for your Widowmakers. You felt the hardness with your wrist, playing it calm, and cool. Welts was just as dumb, if not more—he hasn’t even realized you were armed, not that you knew how to use them, anyway. Your hand drags away. Most likely, you wouldn’t be able to beat the man in a sharpshoot.

“Now, a little birdy told me you were being not so nice to this innocent woman, is that true?” The black-haired male, being passive aggressive, sends you kind eyes that leave you feeling skeptical.

You notice his friends.

One was in a low ponytail, and had a sombrero on his head, and the other had olive skin and a hat with a small feather in it’s band.

“She’s my wife, she’s drunk, and these men have offered to take us home. Go along with your business.” Welts snarled as he pushed your shins into the step of the stagecoach. Never in a million years would you even think to date or marry an O’Driscoll—especially not him.

His hair was greasy, and there was collected dirt behind his ears. With his gapped teeth, and his uncared for eyebrows. You wanted to murder the ratbag for laying his dirty fingers on you.

“You tellin’ me the little birdy is a liar?” the man asks, his tone lowering.

“Hell is your problem?” Welts’ eyebrows furrowed.

His gun against your back was starting to feel like it was forming a circular mark on your back from the muzzle.

“I surely don’t remember a time where I saw a loyal man pinning a gun to his wife’s back,” another one of the man’s friends appeared. He had darker skin, Native American features, and a braid running down his own back.

His arms were folded against his chest that was covered in a brown long-sleeved tunic.

“Do you know this man, miss?” His eyes drag to yours with a softer expression creasing his features.

Once you open your mouth to speak, you’re silenced with a quick shoulder shove forcing you into the coach.

“She does, now leave us be.” He sat himself down next to you. Your head turns to look at them as your face twists into fear.

There were five men; the black-haired one, the one with the braid, the male with the ponytail, the scarred Scottish man, and another male who was a bit taller and quieter. His hair was more brown, his face was scruffy, and he wore a black gamblers hat.

“Come on now, hold your horses, compadre!” The one with the ponytail waved his hand in the air, though the man standing in the front seat of the stagecoach flicked the reins against the hinds of both of the gray and black horses, causing them to squeal and chase out of Valentine.

Panic surged through you, raising your adrenaline. When you try to crane your head to see if the men decided to leave, your chest is pushed back against the seat by one of Welts’ companions. Suddenly, the one who’d exchanged you the soft look—which you now have come to believe was the leader—yelled out, and all the men followed his command. “Saddle up, boys, we got ourselves a couple’a maggots!”

You heard two, or three, or four, of them whistle a call to their horses and moments later, they were chasing down the stagecoach. You felt a tinge of hope, and trusted that these men would save you.

“Can these sons’a bitches go any faster?!” Welts hands gripped the seat the driver sat on with his head turned over his shoulder.

When the shooting began, you quickly ducked and let out a distressed noise. Bullets flew all around you, and you covered your ears. You looked up, and immediately the driver had a bullet pierce his skull. You screamed, some of the red paste splattering onto your face. The driver fell off the front of the coach, and you gasped as the wheels ran over the body, the lump making you wobble. You lift yourself up, and take a hold of the seats to stabilize yourself.

The horses stressed, unsure what to do, and you looked around frantically. Another one of the men attempted to cross over and take hold of the reins, but he received the same fate, instead his body leaned over yours, and you pushed it off the edge before it toppled on you.

“Girl!” One of the men yelled, catching your attention. “Do ya know how to drive that thing?!” His accent was thick, and his voice was deep with a slight rasp. You’d gotten a more clear look at his face now that it wasn’t half-covered with his hat. “I said, do ya know how to drive it?!” His horse sped up along the side of the coach, and you frantically nodded your head. You used to be a Stagecoach Taxi at fourteen. You just hoped you still had it in you.

You tore the fabric of the hem of your dress some more until the fabric stopped just above your knees, then hopped over before you’re pulled back by the neck; a man’s arm choking you and smashing both sides of your head as he squeezed his arm making you fall back onto the floor. “Stupid bitch,” the man huffed and grunted, shooting off a few rounds.

“Arthur, Arthur, no!” the leader yelled from behind. “You’ll risk shootin’ her! Put that gun down!”

He was right; the coach was teetering from side to side, and would be sure to tumble off the edge of a cliff if it were to get close enough.

They’d be sure to go off-road with the horses only knowing to go in one direction at the speed they were currently.

These horses were abused, whip welts covering both their hinds and backs, it was disgusting.

You sputtered out a few coughs as the man cut off your entire circulation, your fingers to pry at his arms and your nails scratch at his skin.

He drops you and you slump onto the floor. You hit your head on some metal, yet quickly recover. While the man is distracted, you throw your head at his pants and bite on his groin through the slacks, immediately, he lets out a yowl and accidentally pulls the trigger of his Litchfield Rifle as he falls off the carriage, which ricochets off a steel base, and strikes your shoulder.

A cry leaves your throat and you slap your hand over the wound. Blood seeps through the cloth of your ruffled top, but you swing yourself back over and take hold of the reins.

You feel your head pounding, but you pull back the reins and attempt to slow the horses down, though they don’t abide. The horses are panicked, unsure how to react.

“Don’t stop the coach!” the man with the feather in his hat, shooting over his shoulder.

”Well, what the hell do I do then?!” Your eyebrows furrow. “There’s more! They just keep comin’!” you turn your head at his words, and your eyes widen to see more O’Driscoll men trailing behind on coaches and horses.

“Jump on my horse!” The man with the striped shirt yells in your direction, and you look at him as if he’s crazy. “I’ll grab you, don’t worry about falling, but hurry it up!” His voice booms, going rasp.

“Now! Now!” He pulls back the reins of his horse, causing it to halt, and with a running start, you jump off the coach and onto his horse, his arm pulling you up as you almost fall off the horse’s hind to sit upright.

The horses to the coach attempt to stop at the edge of the cliff they ran too, though the coach pushes them over. You gasp, and turn your head as your hands grip the man’s jacket that was in front of you.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, sweetheart,” he clears his throat, and turns his horse around. His friends caught up, and their horses skidded to a stop.

“Dutch! What the hell was that for?” The male, who had directed you to not stop the stagecoach, his face was twisted with fury.

“Do you trust me, or not, son?” The man, who now is identified as Dutch, questions him, then elbows you lightly. “John Marston, he’s the hothead if you couldn’t tell, ain’t that right, boys?” He let out a humorous laugh. “Damn straight.” The one with the sombrero howls.

You had to keep yourself from passing out, which failed miserably. “You alright back there, miss?” He nudged your body again. Your eyes began to shut on you, and you slumped against the man’s back, then began to slide off the horse and onto the ground.

“Shit, shit!” Dutch took quick notice of your wounds. “Ain’t any of you tell me she was shot!” He wheezed, rushing off his horse. Everything faded to black.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption arthur #arthur morgan is sexy #ghostheartfelt #ghostheartfelt writing

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unmaskthewriter · 6 months

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Scars {John Marston x GN!Reader}

Summary: Unable to sleep, you begin to examine John’s scarred body.

A/N: a very short little blurb I wanted to write.

Warnings: bad memories, scars from violence, mentions of character death

Word Count: 500+

You lay in the large bed, the covers barely draped over your naked form. John lay beside you, fast asleep, his arm lazily draped along your bare hips. His breathing was calm, and steady.

The fireplace has long burned out, leaving a soft chill in the room. Through the drapes, the moonlight leaked into the room. Carefully, you turn to face John’s sleeping form. Your gaze travels his skin as your gentle fingers come to touch his bare chest, tracing over various scars and old bullet wounds now healed. Sometimes, he’d tell you the origin of a few of the scars. Having been a member of the gang for some time prior to its dissolution, you were aware of his marred cheek from the wolf attack in the Grizzlies, and the bullet wound in his upper arm from the last train robbery. Your fingers traced the different dips and grooves of each scar, almost admiring the story it would tell.

“What’re doing…?” John mumbled sleepily beside you, his eyes still closed. You didn’t mean to wake him due to your own insomnia, having since decided to distract yourself with his scars and what some would call imperfections.

“… ‘m sorry… couldn’t sleep.” You speak softly, your hand traveling upwards, past his neck to brush some loose strands of hair from his face. All of his scars, those memories — you wouldn’t be where you were without them. Sometimes, you wonder if the others were okay, even if they had gone against Arthur, John and yourself in the end. All those who died before the end came, perhaps they were the lucky ones.

Mac.

Davey.

Kieran.

Sean.

Hosea.

Lenny.

Molly.

Susan.

Arthur.

If it weren’t for Arthur and his sacrifice, you and John would have been caught by the Pinkertons, or killed.

It’s near impossible to forget the weeks and months following yours and John’s escape from Dutch van der Linde and the Pinkertons. That consistent fear of being figured out, and turned in, or somehow always feeling out of place even in towns you resided in or near before the gang’s fallout. The arm draped over your waist pulls you in closer as John buries his face in your neck.

“Coulda told me… stayed up with you.” He responded tiredly, still half asleep. His hot breath meets your neck and you shudder.

“Wasn’t worth waking you up over, love.” You whisper back. John worked hard to create a life for the both of you, a life that didn’t include gunslinging and robberies. Those days were long gone. Lazily, John places a kiss on your shoulder. As his chapped lips meet your soft skin, all worries melt away.

You try to imagine a future without John; a future where the left side of the bed is empty, and cold… a future where you are alone, barely surviving. You silently prayed the day would never come.

“I love you, John… I really do.” You speak softly, only to be met with snores. Smiling softly, you press a kiss to his temple and close your eyes, welcoming John’s warmth and comfort as you slowly fall back into dreams.

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #john marston #rdr2 spoilers #angst #fluff #red dead redemption #john marston x reader #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic

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twola · 1 month

Note

Arthur definitely grips the headboard

Somehow you always had known he could be like this. One doesn’t get the reputation that he does by handing out flowers and being gentle.

Deep down, you had also known that this side of him simmered beneath the surface. Though he has been nothing but a gentleman to you through this courtship, or whatever you’d call it, you knew there would be a moment when he snaps, taut like a rope.

The pillow mercifully muffles your hoarse voice, strung out and breathless as you are completely under his control, pressed down into the mattress as if you were to melt into it.

Thoroughly used and fucked out, your moans and cries have become guttural as you smother them by shoving your face into the pillow, having lost your fight with gravity long ago.

Although you can do nothing more than accept, he on the other hand is still full of energy he is taking out on you. Your arms have gone useless, unable to hold you up for some time now. Having fallen forward into the pillow, your back is arched and hips held up by one of his large hands.

“Tha’s it,” he grunts above you, throwing his hips into yours, mercilessly pumping his cock into your cunt. You groan again into the pillow as he slams into you hard.

“Take it, fuck - take it,” he hisses as he leans further over you, one of his hands leaving your hips and clutching at the headboard of the bed. It’s been banging against the wall for the last several minutes, surely alerting the other guests of the hotel what you were up to.

You mewl piteously. You won’t be able to ride a horse for a week at this point. Your cunt is sopping wet as he pounds into you, bruises from his fingers already blooming across your skin. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come; from the second he shut the door behind you in this hotel room, he’s been on you like a man possessed.

Maybe he’s riding the high of the score. Maybe it’s taking frustration out.

“Ngh, Arth- agh - Arthur-”

Hearing his name muffled into the pillow seems to drive him wild, clenching your hips with one hand and pressing you down, down into the mattress as his cock hits spots so deep inside you you swear you’re going to pass out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl-” he pants as his breakneck pace begins to falter, leaning heavily on the headboard, his knuckles white from gripping it.

“Gonna fill you up, g-gonna-”

His babbling devolves into a low moan as he slams his hips down into yours one final time. He remains still for a moment, breathing heavily as he finds his release deep into your waiting cunt.

Arthur groans as he pulls out, his cock near dripping with his spend and your slick. He flops down next to you in the bed as you slowly roll onto your side.

He breathes out through his nose, and chuckles softly as he turns his head toward you, “Well that was different there, darl-”

“Shit, shit -” his satisfied grin drops as he sees your tear- streaked face, “Oh, oh honey - I didn’t - shit.”

He draws you into his embrace, cupping your cheek as his brow furrows, you can see in his eyes the guilt overtaking him.

“ M’okay-”

“Jesus, what a bastard I am-”

“Arthur-” You press your hand against his sweat-dotted sternum, “I’m fine. Seriously. Maybe just gonna a bit sore riding.”

He clenches his jaw, obviously not thrilled with your answer.

“Christ, I’m sorry. Last thing I ever want to do is hurt-”

You cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his, pressing your tongue inside, throwing your leg over his hip to plaster yourself against him.

He’s breathless by the time you pull away, one arm tight around your waist.

You smile, reaching up and brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

“Just warn a girl next time, Mister Morgan.”

His cheeks blaze red for a moment before you lean in and kiss him again.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #twolafic #twola1k #rdr2 fanfic

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lovearthur · 1 month

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──♡ ˙ ̟🦬 charles smith headcanons!

- lets all get the obvious one first; he 100% loves animals way more than people. a lot more. he's not much of a people person.

- reservant. talks when he needs to or when someone talks to him. i also think he prefers silence in one's company.

- but he's passive-aggressive. only when needed though.

- with his big stature(?) (i hope that's the word) at first, he would seem a little... intimidating. he was tall and definitely strong. like he could fling u over his shoulder like u were nothing!

- i think he's more expressive with his body language,, in the way that u would know of he hated u within his gaze.

- he so watches the sunrise and sunset any chances he gets.

- necklace is definitely from his mother or someone from her tribe so of course it means A LOT to him.

- i can see his touch being so so gentle,, despite his burly outlaw appearance.

- his gifts to u would definitely be wooden carvings of animals he's seen or hunted. or that he gives u a bow he made.

- id like to think he can tell the difference between what's poisonous to eat and what isn't.

- he would love to be a father but that small fear of becoming just like his own father still lingers... he wouldn't want to become like him at all.

- in privacy of a tent, he'd let u braid his hair. he adores ur touch.

- adding to this, he LOVES cuddles. he would hug u any time he sees u in the tent. especially when he hugs u from behind. I'd like to think he's touch starved in a way too

- just like arthur, he is 100% a listener. will let u ramble on and on about everything and anything. only talking back to u if he really needed to.

- check up on u every few hours, making sure okay, west rested, no one's bothering u, etc, etc.

- gives u flowers he picks on his way back to camp.

- knows how to flirt well,, only when he's tipsy.

#charles smith #charles smith x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #red dead fanfic #red dead fandom #charles smith headcanon

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chubbysciencenerd · 10 months

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∘°♡ Making It Up ♡°∘

Oral!fem/male receiving, fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, degrading slightly, nature/public/ outdoors, fem!first oral

̇ ̟ ෆ︵‿୨♡୧‿︵ෆ ̟ ̇

╭─ ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ─╮

Javier promised to take you out fishing because you hated being cooped up at camp with nothing fun going on. You were talking to Sean as javier comes over and places a hand on your waist, “you ready to go fishing?” You answer excitedly “Yeah! Of course lets go!” You look at Sean and mumble a “sorry gotta go” and give him a apologetic smile before following Javi. He brings you to his horse, he stores the poles and bait on the horse before he gets on then proceeds to help you. You wrap your hands around his waist enjoying the connection between you two, he starts to ride out of camp. “So what made you want to go fishing of all things?’ He asks glancing back to get a glimpse of you. “Mainly because you’re always talking about it and its a nice time alone.” You knew you still had to pay him back and I thought that this could be the perfect opportunity. He laughs before speeding up.

Soon enough you were there, he gets off the horse then carefully helps you down. You look around and the spot was just absolutely beautiful. He comes up behind you with the polls. “Gorgeous isn’t it?” He says softly in that sweet voice of his. “Yeah, yeah it is.” You look at him over your shoulder before placing a soft kiss on his lips. “So answer me something mi amor, {my love} did you really want to come out here to fish?” You blush a little knowing damn well that was kinda true, at the same time you did honestly want to learn how to fish. “Half and half” He smiles kissing you again. He pulls away from you as he puts the rods and bait back on the horse. He tells you to stay there as he takes the horse into the trees a bit before tying him up to the tree. He comes back down and pulls you into a kiss placing his hands on your hips. You start walking backwards, as your back hit a tree Javier pushed you against it keeping you locked in place as the kiss starts to turn sloppy.

You slide your hand to his chest carefully feeling it before slowly dragging your hand down. You reach his heat as he pushes against your hand. You break from the kiss and move your head into his neck before you start leaving soft kisses, eventually turning into love marks and you didn’t care who saw them. Javier groaned as he took his hands to unbutton his pants, he was clumsy but made great haste. He slides them down with his boxers, and you quickly got to work stroking his length. He pulls his neck away before grabbing the back of your hair and dragging your head into a kiss. You push him forward a little staying with him, you turn him around and push him against the Tree. He lets go of your hair and pulls away. He stares you in your eyes panting, “please querida {darling}…” You kiss him before sinking down to your knees looking up at him as you tease him by slowly stroking his length teasing the tip with your thumb. He gasps before covering his mouth and trying his best to not toss his head back. He watches you full of lust.

You place a kiss on the tip before trailing kisses down his shaft. You drag your tongue on the under-side of his length up to the tip, you take most of him down your throat quickly he laces his finger through your hair as he unexpectedly starts bobbing your head on his length you squeeze your eyes shut as you bring your hands to his thighs gripping them tightly. You gag a few times when he first started but you quickly got decently used to it. You look up at him with tears in your eyes and god did he love it, watching you choke on his girth helpless. You both knew that if you needed to stop you tap his leg but you were more than fine as of now. He throws his head back mumbling some Spanish curses into the back of his hand, he soon after quickly pulls you off of him before pulling you back up to the ground. He spins you to where you are now in front of the tree, you knew exactly what was happening as this is what you guys had done a while outside of camp. You bring your hands and hold onto the tree as he drops your skirt down to your ankles, before you can even realize he shoved his full length in and started thrusting at a fast and hard pace. You could tell he had been holding back for a while with the way he was ramming into you, the thrust were sloppy and with no rhythm. He laces his fingers in your hair pulling your head up to hear your sweet sounds clearer.

“Di mi nombre! {Say my name!}” Javier shouts speeding up the pace slowly starting to lose whatever little rhythm he did have. “Javi! Javier~! You reply shakily, you were growing close and starting to grow overstimulated. With a few more sloppy thrust javier finishes quickly pulling out to avoid a pregnancy, especially with you two not knowing how far you want to take this relationship. You felt empty as he pulled out but he was quick to pulling you up and you burry your back into his chest. He places a soft kiss on your head and a few by your ear before whispering, “Did you finish mi amor? {my love}” You tiredly shake your head. “Let’s fix that then, shall we?” You look up at him over your shoulder as he kisses you before turning you around to face him. He picks you up as you wrap your legs around his waist he carries you to a nearby large rock, he sets you down on it before he gets on his own knees in between your legs. You didn’t know what he was about to do as all of the men you had been with in the past had no care about your own pleasure. He kisses up your thighs switching thighs each kiss before he gets to your heat, your face was beet red and oh did it get redder as his lips connect with your skin.

His mouth made quick work exploring your soaked folds adoring the taste, he groans into it sending vibrations to your body. You fall flat against the rock as he continues, you bite your hand knowing anyone nearby would hear you if you didn’t. His tongue starts to focus on your clit, your thighs tighten around his face as he found a new way to please you. You bring your free hand up to grope your breast almost to distract yourself so you could feel the pleasure longer.

Javier soon adds two fingers quickly curling them in and out to hit your sensitive spot, all of the things combined were driving you crazy. You felt like you were in a complete different reality, one where it was only you and him. Your toes curl as your thighs tighten around his head once again, your legs start to shake right as you finish on his face. He doesn’t stop but he slows down, your juices are too hard to resist. After he cleans you up as best as he can, he gives one last lick on you sensitive bud and your legs twitched as he did and he chuckled looking at the mess he made of you.

He gets back up picking you up and kisses you quickly on your forehead. “Are you alright? Was that too much?” You gave him a soft smile, “it was amazing.. I’ve never had a guy do that before. Thank you Javi.” He places a soft kiss on your lips before taking you back over to the tree. You hold onto it as Javi helps you back into your skirt, it was difficult when your legs felt like jello. He put you on his horse and rode you back to camp, he carries you to your guys tent as your half asleep. He puts you in your cot and covers you with his blanket, “I wish I could stay with you but I have.. things I need to deal with in town” You look up at him softly and nod as if you’re telling him that its fine, you were too tired to talk and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

╰─ ⋅ ⋅ ─ ✩ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ─╯

(Im sorry if this isn’t as good as my first one, I’ve been having trouble sleeping pls lmk if you have any request for characters, kinks, etc. I do not write mlm as I would feel uncomfortable writing it as I am not a male. Ty for understanding and plssss tell me what i can do to improve!!<33)

P.s.[I love you and thank you for reading :)]

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giddyabsurdismsilliness · 1 year

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♢ Troubles Washed in the River ♢

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Male Reader

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

1,053 words

AO3 Post

Masterlist

ALSO DON'T KILL ME FOR THE WRITING THIS IS THE FIRST FULL FANFICTION THAT ISN'T A JOKE IN YEARS.

»--•--«

You rub your eyes, taking in the bright sun that shone through them. Sat in your bedroll, you feel the same dreadful feeling you have for days now. You’ve had no motivation to even get yourself out of bed, let alone do anything productive. You stare down at your crossed legs, struggling to muster up the drive to pull yourself up and get some coffee. You hoped it might help you through this, as stupid as it felt.

You had to fight yourself just to wake up and start your morning. It took everything in you to not just sleep through the day. It took everything in you not to cry. You had no idea why you felt this sad. You’d been doing so much better these days, why you went back to this was beyond you.

The sound of a familiar voice caught your attention. “Hey, you alright there?”

Arthur leaned against one of the wooden poles that held up your tent, his hand rested on his belt.

Leaning back with your hands resting on your thighs, you give him a shrug. “I guess.”

“That don’t sound like a guy who’s alright. Not to mention you’ve been glued to that bedroll for ‘bout three days now. What’s on yer mind?”

You looked off into the distance, contemplating his words. The last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you, but it seems like it’s too late now. You wished that if you didn’t answer he’d leave you alone and go on with his day, despite how unrealistic it was. The camp was anything but private, which had you even more bothered about telling him anything.

After a few moments of silence, Arthur spoke up. “How’s about we take a ride down to the river? It’ll get ya outta this tent.”

“Sure.” You used your hands to help you up on your feet. You felt heavier than you thought. Once up, you felt a throbbing pain in your head. Trying your hardest to ignore it, you trudged over to the hitching posts with Arthur.

Everything that you never paid any mind to now feels so tasking. Just getting on your horse feels impossible. You grip onto the saddle horn, foot lodged into the stirrup to help yourself up. You almost stumble and fall in the process.

You notice Arthur gripping his reins, waiting for you.

“Sorry for makin’ ya wait, Arthur.”

“Don’t pay it any mind. Let’s just get on.” Arthur’s horse trots through the wooded trail. You squeeze your horse’s ribs to cue it forward, following behind Arthur’s.

It wouldn’t be long before the two of you reached the Dakota River, riding down the hill that connected Horseshoe Overlook to the land near the water.

Arthur pulled his horse to a stop at an open spot of grass near the river, a bit north from the town of Limpany. He unmounted and went to rest on the dirt, sat with his arm slung over his knee. He looked as if he were waiting for you to join him.

You hop off of your horse and tie the reins to a nearby tree before going to sit by Arthur. A herd of deer gathered by the other side of the river, lapping up the flowing water. The tranquility of the scenery distracts you from your current situation. All you could focus on were the sounds of the chirping birds and leaves rustled from the faint wind.

“So, what’s been yer problem? I’d say you ain’t pullin’ yer weight around camp anymore, but you ain’t even eatin’. All anyone’s seen ya do these past few days is sleep or lie in your bedroll.” His gaze fixed on you. You couldn’t even look in his direction.

You didn’t know how to put what you felt into words. You didn’t know how to explain to him why getting up in the morning felt like a constant fight, how you felt weighed down to the bedroll. That feeling of being so tired yet unable to sleep. You feared Arthur might not understand, or say that you were overreacting.

“I don’t know, Arthur. I haven’t found the energy to get up. I feel exhausted but I can only get a couple hours of sleep, and I constantly feel on the verge of tears. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I haven’t felt like this in such a long time and it makes it extra upsetting that I’m back to this.” You choke back stray tears. The more you speak, the more you feel the waterworks come on.

“Back to this? It’s happened before?”

“Yeah.” You wiped your eyes, vision turning cloudy from the tears. “Was on and off a lot. Used to have to get forced to eat or drink so I wouldn’t starve. I’ve done better for myself and it hasn’t happened in a few years. I have no idea what brought it on again, but now it feels worse than any other time.”

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder. The touch was hesitant and awkward, yet the warmth still soothed you. “Well I’m.. not very sure how I can help ya. Whatever ya need, just holler for me, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod and lean into his touch, head resting on his shoulder. Arthur tensed up from the sudden movement. His shoulders unbunched as he relaxed, his hand trickling down from your shoulder to your upper arm to pull you closer. Taking a quick glance at his face, you notice the faint red on his cheeks.

The two of you sat in silence, enjoying the soft embrace of one another. Above everything, you were glad to know Arthur would be there to support you. You knew this episode wouldn’t go away just like that, but having Arthur might lighten the load.

“Don’t tell a soul about any of this, y’hear?”

“Don’t plan on it. Thank you, by the way. For gettin’ me up and out. Felt useless and guilty for rotting away like that.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself for it, now.” Arthur’s thumb rubbed against your upper arm in slow strokes. “We should be headin’ back to camp, don’t want people suspectin’ anything.”

“Can’t we stay a bit longer? I only just got comfortable.”

Arthur sighs. “Only for a bit.”

»--•--«

#rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x m!reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur rdr2

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colclay-40 · 8 months

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Damn him for being so hot 🔥

#arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead screenshots #rdr2 photography #rdr2 screenshots

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rayeee10101 · 8 months

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𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐮 𝐑𝐃𝐑𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

(might do another one for the girls in the gang idk and if this doesn't exactly match the characters were going to pretend it does so don't come for me)

Characters ~ Arthur, John, Javier, Dutch, Hosea, Sean, Charles, and Kieran (this is not in order lol)

Arthur Morgan

Ok, as we said in another post he's definitely a truck driver.

He always has his dog with him no matter where he goes and he most likely has one of those giant bloodhound dogs or a bird dog. Maybe even a stray cat he found in a parking lot, who knows with him?

He probably pulls over on the side of the road to sketch some of the scenery he sees and it most likely causes him to be late to places he needs to be but oh well.

LOVES to put different stickers on his truck and to blow the horn for little kids that wave at him sometimes.

His dog is absolutely spoiled, having a giant bed in the passenger seat and probably over 20+ toys because Arthur can't help himself when he sees new toys or treats.

He's always uploading poorly taken selfies of him and his dog onto facebook (lets be real he's almost 40, he's most def uses facebook)

Dutch Vanderlinde

Let's be real, Dutch owns one of those fake gold shops that try to scam you and sell you fake jewelry, I don't make the rules that's just how it is.

But Dutch is good at his job, even if what he's selling you is fake he'd probably be able to convince you it was real by the end of the conversation.

Takes major pride in his business

Actually makes pretty good money considering he's a good liar lmao.

He def talked John into buying a fake diamond necklace for Abigail, John didn't realize he'd been scammed until Arthur pointed it out lol

Probably would give his S/O fake jewelry from his shop because he is cheap

"It's the thought that counts," he would tell his S/O when they point out that the ring he gave them wasn't real.

Somehow has managed to avoid countless law suits, no one really knows how though

He probably uses his shop as a cover up for money laundering ngl

Hosea Matthews

This ones difficult

lowkey feel like he'd work in a bank

Doesn't question where the large sums of money Dutch deposits comes from because he doesn't want to know lol

Has a picture of John and Arthur hanging up in his office

always having to lecture John on not falling for internet scams because this is like the 5th time he's had to freeze his bank account for fraud.

Always turning Dutch away because he tries to take out loans for stupid things that he doesn't need

Has to help John get back the money Dutch scammed from him ofc

Hosea likes his job though, it pays well and he gets his own office so what is there to complain about?

John Marston

I wanna say he works in a zoo and has to deal without wolves just to be funny but I honestly see him being a mechanic

Always working on Arthur's truck when something happens to it.

Likes to teach Jack how to work on cars also, he considers it their "father, son bonding time"

Buys Jack the nicest truck when Jack is old enough to drive.

Has had to fix Sean's car after he drove it into a tree because he thought it was a good idea to drink and drive.

Drives around a classic car that no one else is allowed to touch or he'll have a stroke right there and then.

Everyone in the town comes to him when they need work done on their car, he even opened up his own show eventually

Javier Escuella

Ok, so I see him working as a singer in a bar, like with a cover band or something

he even performs his own songs that he wrote some nights

people love him

he actually has a lot of followers on social media from posting his music and videos of him playing guitar

if him and his s/o have a kid he definitely teaches them how to play guitar from a young age.

writes songs for his s/o

all the guys come and watch him perform some nights when they are all in town at the same time.

makes youtube tutorials on how to play songs on the guitar.

the other guys are convinced that he's going to become famous one day

Charles Smith

I see him working in an animal sanctuary for endangered animals or hurt animals

Definitely becomes best friends with a literal bear and treats it like your everyday normal pet.

Forms strong bonds with every animals he works with, something about his aurora is calming to be around

Doesn't allow John near the wolves when he visits.

Has had to stop Sean from trying to climb into the lion enclosure more times than he can count

He lets Dutch, Arthur, and Kieran come to visit some of the horses he takes care of.

He does volunteer work with animal shelters and other things like that.

Major animal lover in general, probably dog sits Arthur's dog whenever Arthur can't bring him somewhere

Sean Mcguire

This man CANNOT hold a job

Its not that he's lazy (he is) he just gets bored quickly and hops from job to job.

No one actually knows how he affords his apartment, Hosea is convinced he's selling drugs

He usually works in fast food places for a little bit just to make some quick cash.

Has shown up to work drunk a few times ngl

if he has an s/o he probably shows up to their job whenever their working to annoy them

Tried to get hired at a bar but that most definitely didn't last long considering he got plastered on the first night of the job

He probably is selling drugs but I mean, money is money?

Kieran Duffy

We already know the answer to this, he works at a stable

Tried to get a job with Charles but they didn't hire him :(

LOVES working at the stable, he basically gets to play with horses for most of the day

If him and his s/o have a kid he's definitely teaching them how to ride a horse before they can even walk

is always showing his s/o pictures of different horses he gets to work with

probably is in facebook groups for horses

he's a horsegirl

he owns his own horses too and always makes sure they look pristine and perfect

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two #van der linde gang #red dead fanfic #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #charles smith #kieran duffy #john marston #red dead redemption fanfic

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