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tempting-andromeda · 10 months

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Fuck it writing for rdr2 now

Nsfw headcanons

Warning: smut, knife play, somnophilia, power dynamic, spanking, hair pulling, bruises.

Characters

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy,Micah Bell, and Eagle Flies.

Arthur Morgan

He likes for sex to be intimate but he gets a rise out of things escalating. Like you two are in bed about to sleep but like 20 minutes later your legs are over his shoulders and he’s shushing you to stay quite.

He doesn’t force moments between you two he likes when it’s natural.

He laughs softly at you if you get too eager for him. He teases you and degrades you for it softly like “Really? This desperate for me? Guess I gotta give you a good time don’t I, Girl/boy.”

He likes to hear you talk during it even if it's just jumbled moans. He'll ask you questions like “That feel good?” and he likes a response but he doesn't force it (unless he's being rough then he'll stop moving and make you reply)

Sex is personal for him so he likes to make you feel good and sometimes he completely forgets about himself.

John Marston

He likes being in control but simultaneously he likes when you’re in control as well. He’s a complicated man.

He’s so fucking eager. Sometimes he forgets about foreplay but once he remembers he focuses on making you finish until you’re barely able to take him.

He’s real into dirty talk. He simply cannot shut up. He’s between your legs describing how you taste.

He has a high sex drive yet he cums quickly. He goes multiple rounds to make up for it though.

He’s so sensitive. He tries to pretend he’s not but after a while he starts begging you to bite his neck or use your mouth on him.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes a power dynamic. He likes being dominant and he doesn’t like that changing. If you try to top or be dominant he sees it as a challenge.

He’s into humiliating you but he doesn’t like bringing it out of the bedroom. He likes seeing you on your knees as he sits in a chair and he likes making you beg to suck him off.

He likes brats. He’s into the challenge and he likes making them submissive. It’s a huge thing for him if you act all bratty.

He likes to lightly smack you but doesn’t actually apply pressure unless he’s spanking you. Like if you back talk or something he grabs your face and uses a stern voice and after you say “yes sir” he lightly taps your face.

Really likes to stand back and admire you after he’s done with you. Looking at your panting frame and fucked out face. It makes him so proud. If he could he’d have a picture of it.

Charles Smith

He’s super into passionate slow sex. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he praises you but sometimes he can’t seem to hold himself back and he fucks like his life depends on it.

Like he’ll have your legs spread in a nearly humiliating way but he’s complimenting you the whole time, praising your very existence.

He likes when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him feel like you’re desperate for him as well and it drives him crazy.

He’s a munch. No doubt about it. Sometimes it’s the only thing he wants to do. He’ll lay in between your thighs like he’s starved.

Having sex with Charles is like experiencing a Hozier song first hand. At the end of every night with him you have absolutely no doubt he worships you.

Javier Escuella

He’s into knife play but he’s not entirely into drawing blood. He’s into cutting your clothes off of you. Like completely ignoring the buttons on your shirt and instead just running his blade along the buttons, snapping them off.

He’s real into hair pulling both ways. He likes fucking you from behind to pull your head back so he can kiss you and he likes when you pull his hair in missionary.

Possessive. No doubt about it. I feel it in my bones. He always asks you who you belong to before you cum and he gets a huge rise out of it. He makes your scream out his name at least once every time y’all have set.

He’s super into quickies. He likes to pull you away for a bit and absolutely destroy you and then go back to what you were doing and watch you struggle to pretend like nothing happened. It’s a huge turn on for himz

He likes to cum on you instead of in you. He’ll finish in your chest, back, stomach, face. He’s so into it. He likes knowing you’re a mess for him and you’re allowing him to do this to you.

Sean MacGuire

He’s huge on praise. He needs you to tell him he’s big and that no one makes you feel this way. It drives him crazy.

He’s super messy when he fucks. There’s something about it that makes him feel prideful that you’re a mess and he’s a mess.

He likes to humiliate you but in a different way from Dutch. Dutch does it for the power dynamic and he does it just because he likes the idea that he’s the only one allowed to do this to you.

He’s a head pusher but he always makes it up to you afterwards by making you pull his hair when he goes down on you.

He likes having sex in semi public places. It fills him with such adrenaline he’s trying to go again afterward.

Lenny Summers

Hes into handjobs. More than anything. If you put your hands in his pants he’s nearly crumbling that instant.

He likes when you go down on him randomly. Like he’s reading a book and suddenly he’s getting head or waking up to head? It’s so attractive to him.

He knows what you like and what you don’t like and his fingers are magical. Sometimes he tries to multitask and do something else while he fingers you but he ends up giving in and giving you all of his attention.

He’s real nervous at the idea of people catching you two so he just whispers a lot of praise in your ear. He feels horrible degrading you but he tries.

He moans at everything. Like if he goes down on you, he’s moaning the whole time. If he’s touching you he’s still moaning. It’s just attractive to know he’s doing something that arousing to you.

Kieran Duffy

He likes when you tell him what to do. He’s real clumsy most of the time and if you lead his hands and body and tell him what to do he’s determined not to fail.

His dirty talk is mostly him asking for reassurance like “am I doin’ good?” Or it’s just him worshiping you.

He whimpers and whines so easily it’s like he’s getting fucked. (Or he is) he gets real embarrassed afterwards but he doesn’t try to stop

He begs to touch you even if you’re not holding him back or telling him he can’t. His hands could even be on you and he’s begging to touch you.

He moans so loud when he cums. He always tries to cover his mouth to muffle it or he buried his face into you to prevent anyone from hearing.

Micah Bell

He’s rough. Real rough. A night with him probably ends with a few bruises and a sore body and he’s real smug about it too.

He likes watching you pleasure yourself. Sometimes he’ll touch himself as you do so and after you both finish he won’t touch you.

He loves edging you. Sometimes he pulls away right before your climax and wait for you to beg. Once he got up and nearly left just to see your reaction.

He likes shoving your face into the pillow as he fucks you from behind. It makes him feel dominant and like he’s in control.

His praise is really rare so he saves it for a special moment. He’ll have you hanging off the side of the bed as he bellows your back out and he makes sure you hear him when he speaks, grabbing you by the back of the neck just to whisper something like “look so pretty from back here, slut.”

Eagle Flies

Experimentalist to the core. He wants to try everything at least once. He thinks it’s a huge trust thing to experiment with intimacy.

He likes showing off his strength and stamina so he likes to lift you up to fuck you. He can last so many rounds too so by the end both of you are panting and tired.

He says “I love you” during sex. He feels so intimate to say it and he likes to make eye contact as he does it. He knows it’s cheesy but he likes to say “I love you” while he finishes

He likes to talk about your sexual fantasies and tries to recreate them as best as he can. He feels like he has to prove that he’s better than some fantasy and he never fails.

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omgwhatchloe · 3 months

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some lil headcanons because im bored🐺

-if arthur or someone else brings back bad meat, sean gets toothache while eating the stew. he doesnt make it obvious on purpose, but the way his eyes brim with frustrated tears as he holds his cheek and throws his stew to the side makes it quite hard to hide.

-lenny has absolutely no awareness for other people when it comes to stretching. more than once he has stretched and accidentally half-punched someone in the face. he stretched his arms out near sean and the silly irishman thought he was putting his arm around him and fully leant in. lenny did not correct him.

-dutch is the only one in camp who likes those records. for everyone else theyre an absolute mood ruiner and they cannot be happy until theyre turned off. he, similarly, absolutely cannot stand sean’s jawharp.

-sean lost his front tooth as a kid, completely his fault. he got told multiple times to calm down by his da and stop running around, but sean being sean he didnt, ran straight headfirst into their table and knocked his tooth out. scream-cried, would not calm down, was yelled at but also held.

-if mary-beth doesnt like the ending of a book, she will just write her own ending. maybe add her own characters. she is yet to realise this is, in fact, fanfiction.

-molly comes up with the most stupid insults during a fight. once called dutch a soggy milk bottle. why? she doesnt know. no one knows.

-1907 jack could talk mega shit about anyone if someone let him.

-1899 jack loves insects. he loves to bring worms for bait for pearson, or snails to stick on john. sometimes he brings arthur butterflies to draw. he brought dutch, who was in a tent, a slug once and was confused on why he freaked out and demanded he “get it off the rug right now”

-hosea snores like crazy. makes bill and lenny (who have their bedrolls next to him) want to tear their own eardrums out. while the other members hate it, it doesnt stop them sitting upright immediately and panicking slightly when they hear him pause for too long

-lenny would love board games, but, inspired by another post i saw, would get extremely bossy and frustrated when people wouldn’t play right. takes it extremely seriously and is a sore loser to add onto it. cannot stand people who dont play right. playing half-heartedly? fuck off. your out. go away. go. quit halfway through due to the fact hes made it boring? get the hell out of his sight. he will NEVER forget this. cheating? fetch the guillotine. your beheaded.

-tilly is so blunt in showing shes not interested when someone flirts with her, and she knows it. she will literally stare them dead in the eyes and go “ew”, maybe with a facial expression to match.

-kieran used to have a lisp.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #sean macguire #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #sean rdr2 #lenny summers #red dead fandom #macsummers #headcanons #mary beth gaskill #tilly jackson #kieran duffy #dutch van der linde #molly o’shea #jack marston

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babybluebex · 11 months

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rememories | tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: the lee family trashed your betting room, including your most prized possessions, and tommy does everything in his power to soothe you and right the wrongs that the rival gang caused. pairing: tommy shelby (peaky blinders) x fem!reader tags: s1!tommy, tommy being a sweetheart, your daughter's name is thomasine (thanks @lost-in-sokovia for that one), no real warnings for this other than like angst? brief emotional distress? idk author's note: it's come to this lol. i'll be fixing my cillian masterlist later and reblogging it, so y'all can read all of my old tommy fics (and a few other cillian characters lmao) but i hope you enjoy this one!

The backroom was in total disrepair. Chairs were tipped over, things were thrown from tables, coins scattered everywhere and marks of bludgeonings on the walls. The poor little room was merely a shell of itself, its personality and life battered away. You could still hear your husband’s jaded laughter as he made fun of John for wanting to marry Lizzie Stark, but mere minutes ago now seemed like a lifetime away.

Scudboat sat as Arthur poured him whisky, and he explained how the Lees, “the whole lot of ‘em”, came in and destroyed the betting backroom. He was ambushed, he said, or he would have done a better job defending it. You held Tommy’s hands as fear made your own shake, and your husband sighed. “Find what can be salvaged,” he said, narrowly missing John’s angry fit as he kicked a box over. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“This is terrible,” you sniffled, and Tommy extracted his handkerchief for you. It was one that you had bought for him right after you had gotten married and just before he went to war, and you were always amazed that the silky cloth made it as far as it did. You dabbed at your eyes, scowling at your dark makeup that came off, and your heart beat fiercely against your ribcage for a moment. “The children. Was Finn here for this, Scudboat? Or Thomasine?”

“Nah,” he said. “Finn was off in town; Thomasine ain’t come home from school yet.”

“Oh, Tommy, they can’t see the house like this!” you whimpered and clutched your husband’s arm. “It’ll upset Thomasine too much. I’ll fetch her from school and keep her away from the house for a while until this is mostly fixed.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly in agreement, and he began to take off his cap, but he quickly stopped. He was fixated on something on the floor at his feet, and you looked down to match his gaze, only to be greeted with the big leather book that held your most prized possessions: your photographs. You kept the album in the betting room because it was always filled with people, witnesses in case something happened, and, really, who would want to ruin Tommy Shelby’s wife’s photographs?

Your knees crunched on glass as you lowered yourself to the album, and you took it in your shaking hands. The dark green leather was stained black with spilled ink and oil, obscuring your gold-foiled name on the spine, and you opened the book with a creak of the old pages. You didn’t want to have to assess the damage, but the first page already had you weeping pathetically again. The first photograph, the first one ever taken of you and Tommy, sitting and laughing together as Ada tried out her new camera, years and years ago at fifteen and thirteen. It was gone. The page was yellowed all around where the photograph should be, but the picture itself was gone. You wanted to throw the book across the room and scream; you weren’t concerned with material things, many girls from Small Heath were the same way, but those photographs were your pride and joy. The next page was a formal picture taken of Tommy wearing his Army uniform, his lanky seventeen-year-old build a little too small for the uniform that he would grow into. The corner of the photograph was torn but, thankfully, mostly intact.

The third page made you press the book to your chest. Your wedding photographs. You and Tommy had gotten married quickly, two days before he had to go to France, and, in your haste, you hadn’t been able to afford much. You could only afford a single copy of each photograph: one of you in your Sunday best that was your wedding dress, one of Tommy in his uniform, and one of you together. All three photographs were torn to shreds, settled in the spine of the book, waiting for you to find them. Those wedding photographs were the most important thing in the world to you, and now they were gone. Not even pasting glue could fix it. “Tom!” you sobbed, pressing the back of your wrist to your mouth. “O-Our wedding photographs! Th-They’re all ripped up!”

Your husband’s attention went from Scudboat to you, and he walked over to you and knelt down next to you. He took the small bits of photographs in his fingers, examining them intently, and he sighed heavily. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, and your sobs grew heavy. If Tommy was resigned to fate, then there was no chance of them being fixed. “I’m sorry.”

“We-We don’t have any extras, do we?” you stuttered. Your mouth felt dry as your fingers tried to match the ripped edges of photographs up, but they were too far gone. “Tom, d-do we have any others? Th-These aren’t the only ones we have, right?”

Tommy sat down next to you and put an arm around you, and he watched you frantically sob for just a second more before he used his strength to pull you into his chest. The photo album fell out of your hands, and you clutched your husband as you wailed in sorrow. Your wedding photos were gone.

“Mummy?” you heard a little voice call from the doorway, and you turned to see your wee daughter, Miss Thomasine Sophia Shelby, standing at the door. She was holding her school books in her arms, the pink ribbon in her hair coming loose. Thomasine was born just after Tommy come home from France, five years ago, and she looked like a Shelby, dark hair and bright eyes, but she had her father’s smile. “Mummy, why’re you crying?”

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, not caring that you streaked your makeup to hell and back, and you mumbled, “People came into the house, did us over. I-I’m just sad, that’s all.” You didn’t want to worry your daughter with the real reason why you were so upset, because, truly, you felt silly for being so distraught at fucking photographs. It felt ridiculous for you, as a grown woman, a mother, to be crying over photographs.

Thomasine ran to you and sat her small body in your lap, and she wrapped her small arms around you. “Don’t be sad,” Thomasine told you, and you laughed humorlessly. “It’s okay, Mummy.”

You sniffled and soothed your hand down Thomasine’s hair— the ends of her long hair were turning a little ginger, just the same as her father’s tended to do in the sun— and you kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love,” you whispered. “Hug your father, he’s sad too.”

Thomasine crawled out of your lap and into Tommy’s, and Thomasine started to suck her thumb as Tommy stood up and settled his daughter firmly on his hip. He offered you a hand to stand up, and you sniffled as you gathered the soiled photo album up in your grip and stood up on your own. “If you find any of ‘em,” Tommy called to the room, and he gestured to the album in your arms. “Bring ‘em to her, don’t waste time. Yeah?”

You hardly slept that night. After securing the house and making sure that there wasn’t any other part of it that the Lees had touched, you had tried to go about your life normally, but it was difficult to pretend like you didn’t know that, at any time, rivals could enter your home and slaughter every last one of you. You put Thomasine to bed after dinner, and your girl fell asleep quickly, but you yourself were awake for hours. Tommy had taken your photo album and put it away in his wardrobe; “If you keep it, you’ll fret over it forever.” He was right, of course, because, when the sun came up, you had tugged it out and was trying to sort through the scraps of photographs on your bedroom floor. The room was cold and part of you wished that you could be in bed, holding your husband close, but you needed to do it for yourself. You had managed to salvage a single photograph by the time Tommy was blinking himself awake, and you sniffled as you beckoned him over. “Tommy, look!” you exclaimed. “I-It’s Thomasine!”

“Jesus, woman,” Tommy sighed groggily. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Her baby picture, look!”

Tommy reached down for you and he took your hand, and he helped you stand up, his hands going to hold your cheeks. “I know you’re having a hard time with this,” he whispered. “But obsessing over it is only going to make it worse. They’re as good as gone, darling.”

“B-But—” you sniffled, and Tommy shook his head.

“You have to let it go,” He told you firmly. “Come back to bed, you don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed, shuffling back up to bed. Your joints hurt from sitting on the floor practically all night, and your vision watered up as you watched Tommy gather up the album and photograph scraps and set them back in his wardrobe. “What am I going to do? All of my favorite memories are lost.”

“You still have the memories in your head, love,” Tommy told you, sitting next to you. You leaned into him and pressed your cheek to his warm chest, and you sniffled as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I just…” you mumbled. “Our wedding pictures is the thing I’m most upset about. We were so young, and that was before everything went to shit, and we were so happy…”

“We’re still happy,” Tommy assured you. “We’re happier now, because we have Thomasine. We’re a complete family now.”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “We were poor kids, and-and looking at those pictures gave me hope that you’d come home when you were in France. They were my lifeline for a long time, and to have them ruined like this…”

Tommy’s lips formed into a thin line, and he rubbed your back comfortingly as you finally laid down and tried to settle into sleep. Your sleep was thin, hardly even deep enough to call proper sleep, but you finally woke up and got out of bed when you heard shouting down in the bottom of the house. You were used to that, but you still felt like you ought to make sure everything was alright, so you pulled yourself from bed and went about groggily getting ready for the day, slipping on a dress and spraying on perfume before descending the stairs.

The noise seemed to be coming from the back room, the ruined betting room, and you carefully pushed back the plush curtains and opened the doors to see a sight. Your eyes first landed on your husband, dressed in his old uniform. It certainly looked too small for him, tugging a little at his chest, but you clenched your teeth together at the sight. How long has it been since you saw him in the pea-soup-green uniform? Five years, at least. “Tommy,” you said softly. You couldn’t help yourself from stepping closer to him as his head snapped to look at you, and his hard gaze softened in the way it always did when he saw you. He never subjected you to his steely gaze, and, whenever you saw it, it always reminded you of what a feared man he was.

“Fuck, love, what’re you doing down here?” Tommy asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep still.”

“Heard shouting,” you said softly. The other men were bustling around the room as you smoothed your hands up Tommy’s chest, and your eyes went all watery again. “This isn’t happening, please, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked. “Talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“How long have you known?” you asked, sniffling. “Leaving us like this, how could you?”

“What?”

“The uniform, Tommy!” you cried. “You’re being called to the war again, why else would you have this shit on?”

Tommy grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and he angled your head to the side. Arthur stood there, behind a massive camera, angled at a blank space on the wall, and your breath caught in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“I’m not being called back,” Tommy explained. “I got to thinking about our wedding pictures, and I went to see the photographer who made them. He said the film was too old and that they couldn’t make you new copies, so the next best thing was to retake them.”

“Oh?” you asked. You sniffled and wiped your nose, and you gently reached out to touch the camera. “We… We’re retaking our wedding pictures?”

“With a few adjustments,” Tommy said. “Back then, I couldn’t afford to even get you so much as a bouquet, but now… Well, I took your measurements to a dress shop, and even though the dress was pre-made and only adjusted to you…”

“Tommy?” you whimpered.

“I got you a wedding dress, love,” Tommy told you. “Better than the flour-bag Sunday best that you had on.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, and you sobbed once before flying to your husband and crushing him in a hug. “Oh, Tommy!” you cried. “Thank you! Can I see it?”

“Pol’s got it in the kitchen,” Tommy told you. “Go put it on, why don’t you let me see it?”

The dress was beautiful. Eggshell-colored silk that fell below your knees with long sleeves and deep neckline, very fashionable and pretty, and it fit you like a glove as Polly helped you into it. She primped you a little, fixing your hair and patting red rouge onto your lips, and she upturned a vase next to the stove and handed you the bouquet of wildflowers that Thomasine had picked a few days earlier. You felt timid and almost nervous as Polly escorted you back to the betting room, and you cleared your throat once you passed the threshold, afraid that, if you spoke, your voice would give up on you.

Tommy looked to you in an instant, and he gave you a small smile as he stepped towards you. “Aren’t you a sight?” he said in his rumbling timbre, putting his hands on your hips, and he kissed your lips for a moment before he added, “Thomasine might get a brother before the day’s over, if you keep looking that beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, and he steered you in front of the camera as you smoothed down your dress. You were suddenly nervous, and you clutched Tommy’s hand as Arthur cranked the camera, preparing it to go off. “Tom?”

“M’right here, pet,” Tommy said, squeezing your hand. “Just smile; everything will be fine.”

By the time night fell, you had a whole slew of new film, new pictures to replace the ruined ones. Recreations of your wedding pictures, an updated picture of a smiling Thomasine, even one of Tommy kissing you when the camera went off on accident. Thomasine was tangled in your skirts then, gazing up at her daddy, and you looked at the film as you sat by the fire that night, smiling and admiring it. That was your favorite memory; you, your husband, and your daughter, smiling, laughing, loving. It was perfect.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillain murphy x you

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kitixie · 10 months

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Little Girl Gone (pt 6)

word count: 2k

information: y'all, i am so sorry this took so long, i've been in a slump and clinicals just started so i've also been super busy. but i promise i am going to finish this!

warnings: smut. dirty, filthy, nasty smut. seriously, its like 3 pages of smut with some dialogue, but i won't apologize for it 🙃

taglist: @budugu, @ajmiila02, @filmtv2022, @cyphah, @ce1iat, @thenattitude, @globetrotter28, @tn22220-blog, @fudgethisyo, @geeky-politics-46, @chaengist, @lostgirl219, @amberpanda99, @sharrren, @bookishbabyyyy

Tommy’s POV

It had been a week. It had been a fucking week since I had last seen Y/N, since I had tasted her lips on her kitchen counter and gathered the strength to pull away. Dealing with business and family had made this week drag on like months, leaving a hole in my chest that grew everyday I wasn’t around her. I had been so close to having her, her body and mind were almost mine, and then I remembered that stupid, pointless meeting in Camden, and I pulled away like an idiot. I was needed at the meeting, but still; I needed her more.

Everytime that my mind has dared to go back to that night, it always ends the same. Me in a bathroom or closet or any other private place, jerking my cock like a madman. I couldn’t stand it any longer, I needed to have her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see her for a while, and that only made it worse. It only made me treasure the memories more.

“Thomas,” Polly croaked, I could still see the tear stains on her face from earlier.

Business had not gone well, ending with Arthur and John being arrested, and Michael getting his ass handed to him in the process. Polly had been crying and screaming the entire time, along with Ada, who is ever the dramatic. Ada has now resumed her vow of silence against me, at least until I get our brothers free, and Polly won’t stop fucking crying, tears coming out between her hands as she covers her face. I understand her upset, I really do, but it isn’t my fault that her son manages to get beat to a pulp everytime we go out, and she knows it.

“Yes, Pol?” I finally answer, the solemn look not leaving my face.

“What are you going to do? Ya have to get your brothers, the longer their in there the more pissed they’ll be,” she breathes, “I can take care of Michael, but you’ve got to handle things with the prison.”

Finally recognizing some of the life that comes back to her eyes, I sit for a moment. It’s not a problem to get Arthur and John out, I pull people from the jail all the time. I’m just not sure what to do with them once they’re out. They’ll be angry, looking for revenge, and I’ve got a sweet girl waiting on me that overpowers all thoughts of payback. Everyone will get what's coming for them, we are the Shelbys after all, but I want to come first. Preferably all over Y/N.

Another week gone by, and still I haven’t gotten to see her. The hole is now a gaping wound, and my cock is sore from how much my hand has been on it.

I was right, Arthur and John drug me straight back to Camden Town after they got out, and it’s taken all week to stalk and plan out our retribution. We got it, but at what cost? I still haven’t been around to see Y/N. I know she's been at the house, Pol called and told me that she asked her over and watch Finn while she tended to Michael. Hearing that made my heart swell the most it has in a long time, just knowing she cared enough to do something as simple as watch my kid brother. I am so far gone for her, and I don’t even think she realizes that she holds the most powerful man in Birmingham at her fingertips.

The three of us eventually arrive back to Watery Lane, and I immediately notice that Y/N’s umbrella is propped by the door. The adrenaline begins to rush through my veins, waking up all of the feelings that I just got to lie down this past week. All that lust and longing comes flooding back into me, all from an umbrella by the door. I enter the house first, and hear the sounds of laughter coming from the seating room. I peek around the door frame to see Finn and Y/N, locked in some sword battle, using sticks as their weapons. They slash at each other, Y/N obviously holding back given that she has almost two feet in height on the kid, but still it’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen.

I, Tommy Shelby, just found something adorable. Something is truly wrong with me.

I ultimately decide not to disturb them and continue walking to my room. It’s only when I get to my room however, that I notice the tent that has formed in my pants. Fuck, I can’t even see her without getting aroused. I hear John and Arthur speaking to them downstairs, and figure that they’ll keep them busy long enough for me to handle my issue. I carefully shut my door, and lie down on my bed. Loosening my pants, I free my cock from its confines. The skin is red from straining against my clothes, but it only adds to the tenderness as I stroke myself. I imagine it being her hands, dragging up and down my length, toying with the sensitive head. I run my thumb over it, letting the pain from being so hard morph into the pleasure I’m imagining in my head. I picture her mouth, those soft, pink lips wrapping around me, licking and kissing all over my skin until she finally makes her way down. She’d start slow, testing the waters to see how she could handle me, until finally sinking all the way down, my cock touching the back of her throat. The same throat that makes all those mouthy remarks, and keeps all those secrets of what she wishes I’d do to her. I even go so far as to imagine her own fantasies, picturing her getting off to the thought of my hands on her, just like I’m doing now. The soft moans that would spill out of her mouth, falling hard in the silence of her apartment. The way her fingers dive and retreat in and out of that pussy; I know it’s tight, it has to be. That leads me to my next train of thought. The warm center between her legs, that would be dripping in arousal by the time I got around to it. She’d be so wet that it would go down her thighs, it’d be enough for me to drink. I let out a small moan, the feeling of my hand and the delusions in my head becoming too powerful. I can almost feel the softness of her lower lips, as they part to let me in. The filthy sounds she would make as I drove into her, first from on top of her, then once she got adjusted to my size, the way I would take her from the back.

The motion of my hand stops as soon as I hear a glass shatter, and I peel open my closed eyes to find Y/N, standing at my door, face flush, with a shattered glass and pool of water around her feet. Her eyes do not meet mine, and I realize that they’re dialed in on my cock, with my hand still wrapped around it.

“Tommy, I-I am so sorry, I had no idea-”

I don’t let her finish before I’m on my feet. I step over the glass, scooping her up in my arms before placing her inside my room so that she doesn’t step on the glass. I close the door behind her, somewhat aware that my hard on is still out on full display.

“How long have you been watching me, bad girl?” I say, bringing the same hand that was on my cock seconds ago up to her cheek. Her skin feels better than mine ever could.

“Not long, I swear it Tommy,” she rasps, trying to keep her eyes on my face.

“Did you hear me moan? That was for you, Love. You were what I was imaging,” I breathe, tipping my head towards hers.

“No-”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“Yes, I heard you Tommy. It was a beautiful sound.” She finally admits, leaning into my touch and resting her forehead against mine.

I smile at her, and go back to sit on my bed. When she doesn’t follow, I make the decision then and there. She can watch.

I begin stroking my cock again, this time keeping my eyes on her. I can see that she’s a little confused, but more aroused than anything. I spot that blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck, and onto her chest. I can see how heavily she’s breathing, her eyes darting between my face and my hand. I let out another moan as I see her hand go up to her breast, palming herself through the fabric of her shirt. She’s as needy as I am, she just won’t admit it.

I keep my pace, speeding up my hand to keep time with her breathing. The rise and fall of her breast picks up enough that I can feel my end coming near. She’s still watching, waiting to see me finish. I’ve never had an audience before, but I like that she’s the one seeing me. I give my length one last pull, and cum erupts, landing all over my stomach. I keep my hand moving until the last drop comes out, dribbling down my thumb.

“Come here, Y/N.” I say, motioning her with my finger.

She approaches me, staring at the mess I’ve made at myself, all at the sight of her.

“Yes, Tommy?” She questions, that sweet voice dripping in feigned innocence.

“Open your mouth.” I demand.

She does as she is told, and I stick my thumb into her waiting mouth.

“Clean it.” I poke her tongue with my digit, and she closes her mouth around it.

She swirls her tongue around my thumb, lightly sucking at the calloused skin of my hand. She is very thorough, but if she doesn’t stop, I’m going to take her right here, with every member of my family in this house. She pulls away, letting my thumb go from her mouth with a pop. I move to sit up, heading to the bathroom to clean myself off. Before I have the chance to reach my feet, she pushes me back down, her hand gripping my shoulders.

“What are ya doing, Love?”

“I’m cleaning you up, Thomas.” Fuck, even just my name coming from her mouth is almost enough to have me hard again.

She straddles my knees, bracing her hands on either side of my hips. I just allow her, wanting whatever physical contact she’ll give to me. She lowers her head, bringing it to the bottom of my stomach. She darts her tongue out, licking up the cum that pooled at my waistline. She swallows it, and I am in awe as I watch her. She traces the erratic trail up my body, her mouth leaving warmth in its wake. My skin flushes at her touch, and I jump when she lands her mouth on the ticklish part of my side, where the liquid has started to drip down. She lets out a small laugh and keeps going. Finally, when she has licked every last bit of evidence from my torso, she moves up, the crotch of her pants sitting right on top of my once again hard cock. I don’t move, in fear of not being able to stop, but she leans down, and whispers in my ear.

“You taste delicious, Tommy.” She darts her tongue out again, letting the warm thing touch my ear before she nips at it with her teeth.

I go to grab her hips, having had enough of her teasing, but she jumps off of me, landing her feet on the floor.

“I think I heard Finn calling for me,” She says, turning towards the door where the broken glass still lies.

She steps to the mess of glass and water and looks down.

“It’s a shame about your water, Love, I’m sure you’re parched.” She smirks, stepping over the shards and sending me a wink before she closes the door.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut

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bombshelllblonde · 1 year

Text

rdr2 modern au head canons - restaurant edition

dutch owns a diner. it’s one of those stereotypical diners that sells hamburgers and hot dogs and turkey clubs and milkshakes. it’s called Tahiti Dine In. they have a mango milkshake that is super popular

john is the bus boy. no if ands or buts about it. he is allowed to collect dishes and wash them, and that’s it. he keeps asking dutch if he could at least be a waiter. the answer is no. he’s not allowed to talk to customers

hosea takes care of the money aspect of the diner. he deals with the suppliers bc when dutch used to do it, they almost lost connections and affiliations due to dutch yelling all the time

arthur and charles are the line cooks. charles takes care of the grill for the burgers and hot dogs, the philly cheesesteaks. arthur works the deep fryer for the fries, onion rings, occasional fried pickles. they have worked together for so long they don’t even need to communicate with each other about things. you might occasionally hear them scream “BEHIND” when they have something hot in their hands and they’re walking by each other

arthur normally doesn’t talk to the customers except for when there’s old ladies around. he calls them “young lady” or “darling”. he gives them free pie because they call him “sugar” and they like to flirt with him

bill has made himself comfortable in a back corner booth. he sits there most of the time. dutch gets mad if he doesn’t buy anything but hosea will just give him a cup of coffee on the house so they don’t have to hear dutch yell

i’m currently watching the bear on hulu and i was inspired. arthur is def a line cook

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2 #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #charles smith #bill williamson #john marston

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padfootdaredmetoo · 4 months

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Hello! So I have this request. Imagine Tommy has a daughter who's very cocky and isn't afraid to argue with anyone. It doesn't matter if you're 2 or 50, and she's her to be a teenager. ( preferably 13 ) If you can, and want to, of course. ( this is my first time asking for a request, and I'm so nervous, Idek why )

Hey Love,

This request is awesome! Thanks for trusting me with it! Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Kidnapping / peaky themes

Tommy felt his vision start to swim and the words on the phone became inaudible. The man hung up the phone and he knew he needed to move. These feelings uncovered old wounds. That time he had to rescue Charlie when he was just a small boy. He got one kid back and he could do it again.

He pulled himself together and immediately without thought sought out Arthur who was sitting at his desk reading the paper.

“He’s taken her hostage.” The words barely made it out of Tommy's mouth.

“Told you that would happen,” Arthur grumbled but Tommy could see the pain and fear in his eyes. “JOHNNY!” Arthur called out over his shoulder into the back room.

“Again!” John said running his hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

__________________________________________________

You were not very comfortable in the trunk of the car. Something you felt your capture needed to understand. They had not taken your criticism and had begun to ignore you.

You weren't entirely sure they could hear you up front with the engine turned on and everything. If there was a small chance they could hear you, you were going to take it.

You started singing God Save the King at an ungodly volume. Why that song? You didn't know. But you were sure it would annoy the piss out of anyone in earshot.

You mentally counted every turn the car took. Trying to make a map of how to get back to school, back to safety. You sang so loud your lungs and throat burned.

Eventually, the car came to an abrupt stop. Clearly done so your body would roll around in the trunk. You let out a little scream then lay still.

Somewhere in your mind, you realized they could have driven to the river. Maybe they would open the trunk and shoot you immediately then dump your body.

Jesus and the last song you would have been singing was God Save the King. Fuck, that’s not how you wanted things to end.

The trunk opened and thankfully no one had any weapons drawn. The men looked weathered though you were happy to see they were enjoying your company.

“Who the fuck taught you to drive.” You looked at the man with the keys in his hand. “Jesus Christ you suck.”

“Look here you little twerp. Shut your mouth.” He grabbed your arm shaking your whole frame. “And keep it shut. Tight.”

You felt that lovely sense of rage cloud all of your senses and leaned into the man's face. Your eyes were wide and you knew that he knew just where those icy blue orbs came from.

“Make me.” You said softly. You could feel the discomfort run through the man. He didn’t want to be here, he was holding you for ransom no doubt. The reluctance to follow through with any violence was clear in his features. He gave the man next to him a look.

“Get her in the fucking building.” The other man ordered avoiding your gaze. They moved you into the abandoned warehouse and sat you on a chair.

“Look at the two of you!” You said as they bound your body with rope. “Real classy people. I’m sure your mothers are very proud.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“Stuck with a couple of real winners.” You could see the man's jaw tick and you decided to simmer down a little. You needed to think up a plan.

“So do you believe in God then?” You asked and he sat down in the chair across from you. A bright light turned on overhead and you realized with a spark in your eye that they were going to interrogate you.

“I’ll be asking the questions here.” The man said in a sturdy voice.

“That hardly seems like fun. I’ll trade you a question for a question. How bout that?” The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Told you we should have taken the boy instead.” The man standing in the shadows said.

“Charlie. Great man. Great brother. You want to know why he is such an excellent -”

“No. What I want to know is why your dad stole from Mr. Crowe.”

“Mr. Crowe, he sounds ominous. If I were writing a book I’d definitely make him the villain.” You tried to look around at all the exits. “What did my dad steal?”

“Money and a shipment of drugs headed for New York.”

“Doesn't sound like my dad. He’s a politician, a man of the government.” You explained. “Have you ever been to New York?”

The man slapped his hand down on the table next to him. You wanted to avoid listening to more boring threats so you plowed on.

“I have thought about going to New York, but America seems so dull. Their art is sooo boring. Do you like art?” You asked him honestly.

“No.”

“Really? You strike me as a man of higher education.” You smiled like a cat. “Surely there must be an artist or era you like. Everyone likes art.”

“Shut up.” He growled. “Just shut up.”

“Well, I don't know if you know this, but I just turned 13. You know what that means?” You looked at both men. “Means dating, and while I’m here I might as well practice small talk.”

Both men let out a groan and one of them came over and landed a blow across your cheek. You could feel the fear radiating off of him as if God himself had told him what the cost of hitting one of Thomas Shelby’s kids was.

“My aunt hits harder.” You sneered. “Now you're not art people, that’s fine. How do you feel about sports then? You gamble?” You prattled on. Even if they did kill you, you wanted the satisfaction of annoying them.

________________________________________________________

Tommy negotiated with the man, sending him to an empty shipping yard. He didn't steal any drugs or money. Stuff like that was so far behind him that it was almost laughable. His daughter being held captive was not laughable.

Alfie came up from London to storm the building with him. Alfie’s extra men went with Arthur and John to ambush the men going to the shipping yard. The whole thing was unbelievably stupid on Mr. Crowe’s part but he would meet the consequences nonetheless.

As they parked outside the warehouse Tommy painfully waited until the rest of the men had the building surrounded. He knew better than to run head-first into traps these days.

“No, see that’s where you're wrong. The issue is far more complicated than workers' rights. The aspect of the government being heavily involved in the lives of the people -”

He followed the sound of your voice and found you tied to a chair with a large white light shining down on you. Two men looked possibly exhausted and frustrated. She prattled on about her views on Communism and shot down their defenses easily.

“Not to late to leave her here mate.” Alfie joked and Tommy gave him an icy glare. He watched your eyes dart towards where they stood in the shadows. He saw the bruise forming on your cheek.

Alfie wasn't in a joking mood anymore.

“Boys I hate to change the subject as we were getting close to some interesting ideas. But we should move this back to religion. If you have one, I think you should make your peace.” They gave her a confused look.

Tommy watched as Alfie went to untie you letting him start to have his way with the two men.

______________________________________

“Put me down.” You growled. Alfie placed you down on the wet concrete in front of the building.

“Not exactly a warm welcome.” He said looking at your cheek with anger in his eyes.

“You suggested leaving me there!”

“I just put 100 men on this mission to get you back, love. Leaving you there wasnt an option.” He answered easily

“Then why did you say it.” Your eyes narrowed at him. He was your favorite person to argue with other than your dad.

“I just thought it was funny that even when kidnapped you don't shut up.”

“Do you want me to shut up?” A slight bit of hurt washed into your tone.

“You wouldn't be my favorite niece if you did.” He ruffled the hair on your head and you were grateful he helped your dad.

________________

“So I started a re-read of the old testament.”

He let out a groan.

Lizzie cried and threw her arms around you when you walked into the front door. You fought back your own tears as the reality of the situation hit you. Her embrace melted away all the anger that held you together.

It was just you and her as your dad had to make phone calls to sort out the rest of the conflict. The tears started and she helped you upstairs to your room.

“I just argued the whole time. I don't know why I’m crying now.” You tried to wipe your tears on the back of your hand.

“Because you're still a girl at the end of the day.” Lizzie shrugged and helped you get into the bath.

“Well, it’s stupid and I am not stupid.” You said trying again to stop the tears.

“Darling, there is nothing stupid about your ability to feel. It’s what makes you exceptional.” She placed your robe and pajamas on the counter before leaving to give you some space.

You got yourself sorted and were happy that the house was mostly empty. You stuffed yourself between your parents on the couch in the study.

Your dad’s arm wrapped around you and you felt him hold on to you tightly.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby daughter #tommy shleby daughter #alfie solomons

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im-am-not-a-weenie · 1 year

Note

The gang with a reader who gets taken by the O’Driscolls. Also, I am very excited to find someone who writes for Red Dead! I love your writings! 💖

Omg thank you, getting this request made me so happy lol sorry it took A while to finally get to life’s been crazy I’m just gonna do how they react to the news and how they save you (only happy endings for our cowboys) if you want a more detailed version I’d be happy to write it 🤠

Not beta read

🍓The gang when the reader gets taken by the O’Driscolls🍓

Arthur,John,Sean,Hosea,Dutch

GN reader

See end for a/n

🍓Arthur Morgan

As soon as he hears the news he immediately thinks it’s his fault. How could he let someone get to you

He starts to assume the worst “what if I’m too late.” or “it’s my fault I shouldn’t have left them alone.”

His next reaction is to go out and get you, not thinking about the consequences or what could happen to him. He just needs you to be ok

Hosea has to step in and be the voice of reason “you couldn’t have known Arthur, I know you love them but we can’t just go in there guns a-blazing we need a plan”

After they get you back the first thing Arthur does is hug you, being gentle just in case you were hurt.

“Arthur baby it’s ok I’m not gonna break.” “I know doll, just let me hold you for awhile.”

And you let him. You find yourself cradling his head in your hands and wiping away a few tears (ok it’s a lot of tears but you’re crying to)

“It’s ok Arthur I’m back I’m not going anywhere.” “Damn right you’re not you aren’t leaving without me every again”

And you’re ok with that

🍓John Marston

John doesn’t know what to do at first. He sits there in shock for a couple of minutes.

He probably would’ve stayed there longer is Arthur hadn’t snapped him outta it

“Hold what exactly happened” “I’m sorry John it was a job gone bad, we didn’t know they were waitin for us we were ambushed.” “Are they?” “Alive yes, we’ll get them back John I promise”

And get you back they did

I don’t think the others have seen John so focused on a job

“John you should probably get some sleep, and when was the last time you ate.” “I’m fine Dutch.” “Ok son, don’t worry we’ll get them back”

When they do get you back you can’t pull John off of you, literally like for the next three days they have to pull it off of you

Everyone just got tired of it and just decided leave him be, not that you mind

Everyone else might not know it but John has always been a cuddle bug it just took a traumatic event to show it publicly (but that’s neither here nor there)

“John, sweetheart I’m not going anywhere.” “And you won’t be for like….the rest of your life”

🍓Sean McGuire

Sean is heartbroken all he says and First is “oh” and walks off it’s not that he doesn’t care but it’s that he needs to process

Arthur fines him starring of into space with a lost look in his eyes, he and the rest of the boys have never seen Sean so effected by anything

The one who was always smiling and laughing and probably the loudest was a broken mess on the ground

“What happened out there Arthur.” “honestly I couldn’t tell ya Sean, we were walkin in town they said they needed to grab something from the store and all I heard was the scream before they got ‘em.“

“We’ll get her back Sean.” “We better, them O’Driscolls are going to feel all the pain they’ve felt and more”

They find you passed out, gaged, and tied up in a chair in the corner

You think you’re dreaming at first, the voice bringing you back to conciseness couldn’t be your Sean you struggle to try to open you’re eyes

You felt a hand on your face caressing your cheek you jerk trying to get it off

“Don’t fucking touch me you dirty bastard” “shhh, lass it’s ok it me you don’t have to fight anymore” “Sean?”

He holds you the hold ride back and them some. Trying to help you with the aftermath and trauma you most likely gained (unless ur built different) every time he gets up you hold on tighter

“What’s wrong?” “What if they take me again Sean? “Don’t worry love, you’ll never be taken away from me I promise”

And that a promise you can trust

🍓Hosea matthews

His calm and collected demeanor is gone, well not totally he still wants to get you out as soon as possible but also as safely

He goes into action mood, he moves so fast no one else has time to question or process

“Hosea let’s just think about this more a moment.” “I did think about it Dutch and getting them sooner is better than later.” “Now let’s just-“ “damnit Dutch I’m going to get them now it’s up to you if you wanna come with me or stay here”

The whole gang pitches in on this one because no one dares to say no to angry Hosea or get in his way

The gang works quick and quietly Hosea is all rage until he finally sees your face you only had a few bruises but he will worry that at camp he just wants to get you home

As soon as you have your arms around him you’re sobbing and pulling closer or as closer as you can possibly get

He’ll hold you close too and gives you what you need he rubbed circles on your back and tries to calm you don’t be let’s be honest he’s crying too

“Shh it’s alright love, I got you…that’s right deep breaths, can you do that for me baby c’mon breath with me” putting your hand in his chest so you can match his breaths

As You start to calm you can hear his praises “There you go love that’s it”

you look up to meet his eyes

“Hi.” “Hi love.” “Thanks for coming to get me.” “My dear i’d fallow you too the ends of the earth.”

🍓Dutch van der linde

The news hits Dutch the hardest

He starts to panic, he can’t lose someone to the O’Driscolls again

He starts pacing and muttering as he’s walking back and forth he starts to fidget with his hands

The gang hasn’t seen their leader like this it makes the rest of the group nervous too

“Dutch if you keep that up you’ll start to run yourself into the ground.” “Huh?”

He hasn’t noticed the pacing what felt like seconds was actually minutes. 30 to be exact he decides it’s time to do something. Time for a great Dutch van der Linde speech

“All right gang as you know a tragedy that has struck today, we can sit here and think about the worse OR we can go out there and show those O’Driscolls what happens when they mess with us”

Of course everyone was with Dutch

When they found you the first thing Dutch did was grab you and lift you up in an tight embrace spinning you around

“Dutch baby.” “Yes dear?” “I can’t breath”

He immediately let you go well not totally but he let up a bit

You reach up to cradle his face in you hand to which he immediately lent into the touch . You wipe a tear from his face telling him how you’ll never leave him again to which his response is

“And I you”

🍓Hey everyone I’m so sorry if this absolutely sucked lol but I tried it’s been awhile since I posted or wrote anything but I wanted to put something out again sorry but this was not beta read so I apologize for the grammar and spelling errors, also thanks for all of the well wishes and I hope to start posting regularly again and finish everyone’s requests love you all-Rhys🍓

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #red dead redemption 2 #sean macguire x reader #sean macguire #dutch van der linde x reader #rdr2 headcanons #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews x reader #hosea matthews #red dead redemption 2 head cannons

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zablife · 1 year

Text

Tachipen (Part 5)

Summary: With the flip of a coin, Tommy makes a deal to bring a young gypsy girl into the Shelby clan. Considering her too young to marry, he takes pity on her and employs her as a nanny for John’s children instead. The arrangement soon sours when Tommy believes his horse has been cursed and demands her help stealing from the Lees. When she seeks solace in John’s company, an innocent romance blossoms, but a war with the Lees and Polly’s poorly-timed advice drive them apart in a way that will change their history forever. As the scenes from the present reveal, Y/n must watch the Shelby men go on to love others while she is shut out. However, the events of one tragic afternoon could change everything.

Author’s Note: After a 5 month hiatus, this story is back! I'll be updating more regularly now that I've outlined more of the fic. The story is told through flashbacks, but I will note the year. Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925.

Warnings: language, ethnic slur, implied smut, mention of pregnancy, mention of arranged marriage

Part 4

1924

The frosted glass shook as Polly forcefully closed John’s office door, her eyes darting from you to her nephew. “What is this I hear about the two of you sniping at one another like bloody children?”

You and John both started speaking at once and Polly shouted over you to assert authority. “That’s enough! John, perhaps you could explain why you’re even in the office today?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Y/n is perfectly capable of supervising the other girls.”

John opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock, giving the appearance of a fish out of water before you interjected. “He’s been hovering over me for weeks, Pol. Won’t let me finish one fucking job without trying to find a mistake!”

John pointed a finger in your direction as he retorted, “If she could keep her mind on her work instead of her love life for a change--”

“Would you stop?!" you screamed, interrupting him mid-sentence. You felt the emotion welling in your chest and did your best to keep from crying. Running a shaky hand through your hair, you took a deep breath to regain control before continuing your plea to Polly. "I did as I was told. I broke up with Angel and I apologized…” you stopped before you broke down, then continued with the part that stung most, “for the inconvenience.” Those had been the words Arthur insisted you use. He’d probably consulted Linda about it at the first sign of trouble, you thought bitterly.

Polly softened at your show of emotion, reaching across the table for your hand. “Alright, I think I understand. John, would you leave us, please?” John nodded with clenched jaw, pushing out of his chair with more force than necessary. He looked back at you as he crossed to the door and you swore you saw a brief shadow of remorse cross his handsome features though you couldn’t be sure with the lingering tension between you.

When you were finally alone, Polly began, “Y/n, I’m sorry about this. I know you’re upset about the Changretta boy and I don’t blame you, but what’s done is done. And you must understand that John is under a lot of stress at home. I’m not sure if you know this, but there's another little one on the way,” she said hesitantly.

“Again?” you nearly shrieked. It was the third time in the nearly four years he'd been married.

Polly nodded slowly. “You see why he’s so on edge lately?”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of how chaotic the household must be with six children, soon to be seven. Although you attempted a shred of compassion for his new wife, you couldn’t manage it. “Yes, I understand,” you said in a quiet monotone. “He has a lot of people depending on him.” It was what Polly wanted to hear so you spoke the words, turning your head away so she couldn’t read your expression.

“Exactly. I know it doesn’t excuse his behavior here, but we all have to learn to get along,” she advised, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before leaving you alone in the room. A bitter laugh escaped your throat at the thought of any of you living peacefully after all you’d inflicted upon one another.

—————————————————-

1919

As the first rays of dawn broke, you sat up in bed, face aching from the bruise across your cheek and your mind reeling from the events of the previous day. If Tommy hadn’t trusted you before, there was no hope for you now with so much cash missing from the betting shop, especially when he learned the Lees were to blame. How could he not think you were involved?

Panic setting into your bones, you decided to make a hasty retreat from Polly’s house while you still could. Despite the throbbing in your wrist, you slipped your dress over your head and silently turned the bedroom doorknob, giving the hallway a quick glance for occupants. With no signs of activity, you slipped quietly down the steps and right to the front door, knowing this would be the most difficult part of your escape. The rusty hinges creaked loudly and you cringed at the noise, well aware of how it carried throughout the house. Rightfully so as Tommy’s voice beckoned to you at the sound. “Where are you off to so early?” his husky voice called out.

You spun around to face him, heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his wrath to rain down upon you. You calculated the distance to the street, wondering if you might still be able to outrun him, when he suddenly closed the distance between you, shutting the door with a gentle push.

As he stared into your eyes, he spoke again in a much softer voice. “I misjudged you."

You held your breath realizing how close he stood, the heat radiating off his body into yours. Transfixed by the intensity of his bright, blue eyes, you couldn’t help but stare back at him. The anxious flutter you felt in your stomach intensified as you waited to hear what he thought he knew about you.

“What you did for Ada last night was…” he looked away for a moment as he tried to find the words to express the gratitude he felt upon hearing of Ada’s difficult labor and delivery. “Well, my sister and nephew are alive because of you. You could have gone with the Lees, but you stayed here,” he said, emphasizing the last part. You realized he was recognizing the loyalty in your decision, though for you it had been a matter of common decency.

“Thank you,” he added hesitantly and you could tell from the way he said it, he didn’t make a habit of ingratiating himself to others.

“I only did what I thought was right,” you said, averting your eyes to the floorboards.

One look at your tense posture and Tommy took a step back to give you air. He gestured toward the table as he asked, “Will you sit with me?” You nodded slowly, crossing to join him at the kitchen table. Tommy took a seat and lit a cigarette, leaning back and tilting his head as he searched the ceiling through the rings of smoke. Then the words tumbled forth, breaking the awkward silence unexpectedly.

“About that night in the stable… I brought you here to look after my family and I had to know I could trust you. Charlie thought you might have put a spell on the horse and for a moment I believed him.” Sitting up and looking you in the eye he added, “But when I asked you for the truth, I could tell by your reaction that it wasn’t your doing.”

Your eyes grew wide at his confession. You hadn’t expected him to speak of it ever again and the thought of him bringing it up now made you shudder. With a dismissive air and bitter tone you pushed it away saying, “M used to it. No one trusts gypsies.” You hugged your arms around your body to still your trembling limbs, hoping Tommy would’t recognize weakness in you.

“It’s not right though,” he said looking you in the eye. “I should never have…”

“No, you shouldn’t, you bastard” you interjected, jaw firmly set at the mention of his cruel treatment.

Tommy sucked his teeth as he flicked ash into a mug, giving your jab a moment to wash over him before responding. “I suppose I deserve that, but I want to make amends. Can we start fresh?” Tommy asked, blue eyes searching yours intently.

“Yes, I think so,” you agreed reluctantly, unsure how this turn of events had happened.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Because I’d like to invite you to have a seat at the next family meeting.”

Your head was still swimming with Tommy’s apology so you weren’t quite sure you heard correctly. “What? When?” you sputtered.

“Today, we have to go on the offensive now that the Lees have struck a blow and you’re our best hope of understanding their way of thinking,” Tommy explained.

You touched the bruise on the right side of your face that was turning to a dark shade of purple, thinking of how your sister was one of them by now. What would your scheming do to her, you wondered?

While you were lost in thought, Tommy leaned forward to examine your swollen wrist and you cried out at his touch. He lifted your hand and moved it carefully to see if there were any broken bones, a skill he’d learned during the war while attending to his men. Nodding thoughtfully he replied, “You’ve got a sprain. You should let me wrap it.”

“Alright,” you agreed, watching as Tommy fetched a bandage and efficiently went about his work, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lower lip. His touch was surprisingly gentle and your mind wandered to the times you’d watched him with the horses. You recalled how they’d responded to him without the use of a whip, only the sound of his voice over the noise of the scrap metal yard. You couldn’t deny that there was something about his presence in this moment that you found calming.

The roughness of his voice cut the silence as he spoke for the first time since he began tending to you. “I’ll be off to John’s now,” he said with a nod as he stamped out his smoke and before you could ask anything more he was gone, leaving you in quiet contemplation of your new role within the family and everything you thought you knew about Tommy.

————————————-

“Open up!” A voice bellowed out before John’s front door swung open, footsteps falling hard and fast on the stairs leading to the bedroom.

John sat up quickly, pulling the duvet over his naked body before reaching for his revolver on the nightstand. Tommy burst in with John cursing, “Fuck, Tommy! When will you learn to knock?”

“When will you learn to lock your bloody door? The Lees could still be in town for all we know,” Tommy scolded.

As the brothers argued, the woman beside John began to stir at the sound of their shouting. As she rolled over to face John, Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he caught sight of the woman’s familiar dark curls. John covered her quickly though he knew Tommy had already spied his secretary.

John tossed his gun onto the bedside table as he waved his brother off. “Alright, that’s enough! Get out!”

“Fine, but get dressed quickly. There’s business to discuss,” Tommy said, turning to leave. Then hesitating for a moment he called over his shoulder, “Lizzie, I want you at work by nine!”

She inhaled a sharp breath beneath the covers, embarrassed at being caught in bed with the boss’s younger brother. She’d gone to the Garrison to celebrate the new baby with everyone else from the office, but it was Tommy she’d been after. John just happened to be the brother who stumbled into the snug first.

After donning her dress and shoes, Lizzie leaned over with a warm smile and gave John a tender goodbye kiss. His head pounding from the hangover, he gave her only a sliver of affection in return, the reality of what he’d done hitting him full force. When he closed his eyes the only person he could see was you.

“I’ll be going, but I’d like to do this again. You never call me anymore,” she said biting her lip. Pulling back to study him she noticed John’s baby blue eyes didn’t dance with light as they had the night before.

“Listen, Lizzie…” he began, but Tommy interrupted, calling to him from downstairs. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” he said and she nodded cheerfully before pulling on her heels and clicking down the hall.

By the time John joined Tommy in the kitchen, Tommy was pacing like a wild animal. “Where the fuck were you yesterday, eh?” he asked, pointing a finger at his brother.

John rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head slightly. He couldn’t think clearly. What had happened? Before he had time to reply, Tommy was stalking toward him angrily. “The betting shop was robbed by the Lees. Y/n and Ada could have been killed because you left your post, John!”

“Oh, fuck off, Tommy!” John replied. “This is not my fault! How was I meant to do collections for Arthur and run the shop? Scudboat was there anyhow,” he asserted, pulling his suspenders up with an annoyed roll of his neck.

“Except he wasn’t. He went to Charlie’s yard for the arrival of the new shipment which is why you were supposed to have been back by four!” Tommy said, slamming the kitchen table with his palm for emphasis. Running a hand through his hair he shook his head muttering, “You never fucking listen.”

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, another vision of you suddenly dancing across his eyelids. He’d noticed a deep red mark on your cheek and how you winced when Ada put too much pressure on your hand, but you’d both been so consumed with Ada’s labor. You’d been steadfast delivering the baby, but that was how you were when you were scared, carrying on despite the fear. John’s head shot up as he asked, “Y/n? How is she?”

Tommy let out a heavy sigh as he realized he was finally getting through to his brother, plopping down in a chair he replied, “She has some bruises and a sprained wrist. She was lucky this time, brother, but the danger will increase. The Lees know she gave us information about their operation. They took their money, but now they want blood,” Tommy said ominously.

John nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t let his concentration lapse again. You were too important and he was determined to do everything in his power to protect you this time. He only needed to bring you home.

———————————————-

The family assembled in the betting shop without noticing you hovering in the corner, feeling woefully out of place. Polly and Arthur were already seated, talking quietly as Polly smoked her clove cigarettes. Lizzie sat with pencil and paper in hand to take notes if necessary, but she didn’t appear nearly as concerned as the others. In fact, she was positively radiant, as though she couldn't stop smiling. You wondered what she had to be so cheerful about, when Isaiah appeared in the doorway, remarking to her, “Looks as though someone had a good night.”

“You know, John,” Lizzie replied with a giggle. Your heart stopped as you watched her bite her lip seductively, wondering what she meant by that.

Moving to the kitchen to help yourself to a cup of tea, Isaiah sauntered in behind you, clearing his throat to announce his presence. “Why didn’t you come to the Garrison last night?” he asked, leaning against the cupboards with a casual charm he directed at most ladies.

“I was tired. Delivering a baby will do that,” you replied with a smile.

“Of course. John said you were brilliant,” Isaiah complimented you as he removed his cap and smoothed his hair.

“Isaiah, was Lizzie with you and John last night?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

A wide grin spread across Isaiah’s face as he accepted the mug of tea you offered exclaiming, “Yeah, for a bit. Then they told me to piss off. I mean, you know how they are.”

“N-no, I don’t,” you stuttered, hands beginning to tremble around your cup.

“Those two can’t keep their hands off each other! It’s been that way since the war ended. John used to blind her other customers just so he could see her more often,” he said with a laugh. When Isaiah observed your blank expression he continued saying, “You know what Lizzie used to do, don’t you?”

Shaking your head, you felt your stomach drop and your mouth go dry as he explained their arrangement. Apparently John had been paying her for sex for years. The words stabbed into you as you held yourself up against the cupboards, willing your face not to betray your tender heart in front of a blinder.

But the terrible feeling of betrayal was overwhelming as you remembered Katie’s words about her father and his whores. You thought John had feelings for you, but clearly you’d been wrong. The pit in your stomach grew as you relived the kiss you shared the night before outside Polly’s house. He must have sensed your hesitation and gone back to someone more experienced and familiar. You felt another twist of the knife as you wondered if he ever wanted you. His brother had forced him to take you in after all and suddenly you felt terribly foolish. Worried your legs might give out at any moment, you excused yourself to take a seat at the table.

The pain only worsened as Lizzie turned to address you with an air of worldly sophistication. “Y/n, it was kind of you to leave John and me last night. One day you’ll see how important it is that a man and a woman have their privacy. I know John appreciates it,” she said with a wink and a knowing smile. As heat seeped into your cheeks with the overwhelming feeling of humiliation, it was almost more than you could bare. Did everyone know John saw you as a child who wasn’t worthy of his attention?

Soon Tommy and John arrived, taking their seats at the table and you found yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you tried to avoid John’s gaze.

As Tommy called the meeting to order you noticed all eyes on you, making you painfully aware that as a non blood relative nor a blinder, you shouldn’t be there. Tommy quickly put everyone’s fears to rest, making it known that he had asked you to be his adviser and no one dared go against Tommy.

The meeting progressed quickly after that with John proposing an all out war against the Lees. He wanted to see them all cut to ribbons and you could tell by the dangerous gleam in his eye he was more than capable. Lizzie gave him a nod of approval from across the table and your blood boiled at the thought of them discussing strategy together, plotting and scheming as they lay tangled between the sheets. You were past the point of tears by now, coiling your hands into fists below the table.

While no one else came forward with a different thought right away, Arthur quickly agreed to John’s plan. Not one for ideas himself, he went along with the quickest method of handling enemies.

However, Polly was next to speak and interjected reason before the men could become too blood hungry. “This all began because of greed, Thomas. If we propose to share our contacts with Erasmus and thus the earnings, it might convince them to stop trying to kill us.” You could see Polly favored peace above all else, but you knew Tommy would never settle for half his take.

Then the idea came to you, born of resentment and retaliation, but an age old solution that would work nonetheless. You knew how to achieve peace if only you could convince your aunt and Tommy.

“There’s another way, but it requires discussion with an elder, my aunt, Zilpha,” you proposed, glancing up at Tommy.

“She’ll see me after everything that’s happened?” Tommy asked, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“No, but she’ll see me,” you promised him. You could see the wheels in his mind turning as he pondered what you might say to your aunt. If he truly trusted you, he would agree to let you speak on their behalf, however.

With a small nod he agreed. “Alright, I’ll take you tomorrow,” Tommy said. “You’d better get some rest.” And with that, he left everyone in stunned silence, their fate in your hands.

As everyone filed out of the room, John remained, leaning on a desk. When you attempted to walk past, he stopped you, reaching out to capture your arm. “Y/n, wait,” he called out.

Your eyebrows shot up at his request, unsure why he hadn’t dashed out after Lizzie. It seemed her company was what he craved now so why was he here waiting for you? “What is it, John?” you asked, voice tinged with irritation.

“I wanted to see how you are,” he said, looking you over with what appeared to be genuine concern. His opposite hand traced the bandage that covered your wrist, eyes trained on your injury as though he felt the pain concealed beneath it.

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to break away, but John held you to him.

Reaching up to caress your bruised cheek he spoke earnestly, “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I should have been at the shop. If I had been, none of this would have happened.”

“Well you can’t change it now,” you replied, locking eyes with him, wanting to scream at him about Lizzie, but knowing it wouldn’t help.

“Let me at least try to make it up to you,” John pleaded, rubbing his thumb over your hand. “Come home,” he suggested in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him.

“Why?” you asked, snatching your hand away.

The biting tone had obviously hurt John, a wounded look crossing his face immediately as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. “Because…because the children and I need you,” he reasoned, furrowing his brow. He’d never been good with words, but he hoped you would hear how much he cared for you with that simple phrase.

The words pricked the hairs at the back of your neck, confirming what you already suspected. There was no love there, only a life of convenience. Biting your cheek to keep from crying, you sucked in a quick breath before replying, “I’m sorry, John, but I’m needed elsewhere at the moment.” You turned on your heel and disappeared into the house.

—————————————-

You spent another night at Polly’s, too upset to return to John’s. When you closed the bedroom door before having your dinner, Tommy urged the others not to pry into the cause of your sudden mood change. He explained there was a long drive ahead of you in the morning and reasoned you must be anxious at the thought of returning to a camp full of angry relatives.

As you drove to the Lee camp in comfortable silence, you were relieved that Tommy wasn’t the curious sort. However, you knew he deserved to hear what you intended on proposing to your aunt so you began explaining your plan for ushering in peace between the two families. While you expected him to question it a bit more, he only chain smoked as he kept his eyes trained on the road. When you’d finished, you swore you heard a low hum of approval emanate from his pursed lips, though you weren’t entirely sure from his stoic expression.

There was no time for doubt in any case as the car jerked to a halt. You exited your side cautiously, eyes scanning the horizon to find men with rifles stood at attention above you. “Slowly now,” Tommy advised as he stooped to gather a stick and dug into his pocket for a white handkerchief to tie at the top. As he walked up the dirt road toward the vardos circled on the ridge, he waved the makeshift flag. You allowed him to lead until he leaned toward you to whisper, “You’re sure you still want to do this? What of your future, eh?” It was the first he had mentioned you in any of the plans and you swallowed harshly at his insinuation that your fate mattered either way.

“Let me worry about that,” you replied stubbornly, marching ahead. Tommy wanted to laugh at your determination, but thought better of it considering the circumstances. He shook his head as he followed after you, admiration for your courage swelling in his throat.

Zilpha greeted you with a wary expression upon your approach, face as dark and stormy as the clouds overhead threatening rain. Standing at the doorway of her vardo, she refused to descend until you had both been searched for weapons. Although you understood her hesitation, it stung to be treated as a traitor when you still held love for your family.

When she was satisfied you weren’t there to harm her, she allowed you to ascend the steps and you breathed a sigh of relief when she extended a wrinkled hand to you, pulling you inside.

Despite having convinced her of your own good intentions, Tommy was made to wait outside. You could tell from her knitted brow, he would never gain her full approval and you knew you would have to work hard to sell his good points.

After the preamble of commenting on your thin frame and offering up a hearty stew, Zilpha asked why you had come and you wasted no time with your appeal.

“He’s a smart man, aunt. But he needs strong men,” you explained.

“For what?” she asked harshly, turning to face you with such force, her jewelry crashed together creating a tinny clinking that echoed out like a warning.

“Protection for his growing business. They get the winner in one of every three races before the race even starts. No need for chalks or rafflers. It’s a certainty,” you promised her, believing in Tommy’s operations so that she would have faith as well.

“It sounds like this Shelby man’s got his hooks in ya,” she said, eyeing you suspiciously.

You bristled at her assumptions, holding your head high. “No Shelby has me, aunt. In fact, I have a unique proposal for you to end the war between you and them.”

“And what might that be?” she said, leaning forward elbows on her knees to hear you better.

“Rumors say Erasmus’s cousin Esme has been running wild. If I could promise a good husband for her, would you give Tommy soldiers? If you do, this alliance will make you a rich woman,” you promised.

Zilpha thought for a moment, recalling the trouble she’d had finding a suitable groom to take on the headstrong young woman.

“And what man do you suggest?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Tommy’s younger brother, John Shelby,” you said, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice wavered as you said his name. She hadn’t, too preoccupied by your talk of fortune. Without hesitation, she extended a hand in agreement.

As you both emerged, Tommy searched your face for a sign that the negotiations had been a success. You gave him a small nod and he turned to Zilpha. “He’ll do then?” Tommy asked.

“Bring him round in a fortnight and it will be done,” Zilpha proclaimed.

The drive back to Small Heath was cloaked in thick silence as you looked out the passenger window. Exhaustion from the long day was beginning to take hold of you, but something wouldn’t let you give in to the need for rest. Although you hoped your plan of revenge might heal your broken heart, the ache only grew stronger. You didn’t yet know it, but regret would soon take hold and there would be nothing you could do to reverse it.

——————————————

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jewels-writes · 1 year

Text

how i think rdr2 characters would react to you getting injured in a fight

Featured characters: Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van der Linde, John Marston, Charles Smith, Sadie Adler, Lenny Summers, Sean Macguire, Kieran Duffy

WARNING: some people might consider this a little graphic, you've been warned.

(If you want your own custom story with any character from any fandom, please support me on fiverr https://www.fiverr.com/share/vP6NwZ)

Arthur Morgan

You and Arthur had been fighting off a group of bandits, but things took a turn for the worse when one of them landed a blow on you with his axe. You screamed out in agony as the pain coursed through your body, and Arthur quickly came to your side.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he urged, pressing a hand to your wound to try and staunch the bleeding. "You're gonna be alright, just keep your eyes open."

But despite his best efforts, you kept slipping in and out of consciousness. Every time you faded away, Arthur's heart raced with panic. He couldn't lose you, not like this. He needed to get you to a doctor, fast.

Desperately, he tried to keep you awake, talking to you, asking you questions, anything to keep your mind focused. He even resorted to slapping you lightly on the cheek to rouse you when you started to drift off.

As he worked to keep you conscious, he also tried to assess your injuries. He knew that you were bleeding heavily from the wound in your side, but he also noticed that you seemed to have a concussion from hitting your head on a rock during the battle.

"Y/N, can you hear me?" he asked, his voice thick with worry as he gently prodded at the lump on your head. "You hit your head pretty hard, but we need to keep moving. Can you sit up?"

With his help, you managed to prop yourself up against a nearby tree. Arthur carefully examined your wound, tearing off a piece of his shirt to use as a makeshift bandage. He knew it wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

"Alright, Y/N. I need you to be strong for me," he said, his voice firm and determined. "We're gonna get you out of here, but you need to stay with me, okay?"

You nodded weakly, but your eyes kept drooping closed. Arthur knew he needed to act fast if he was going to save your life.

He hoisted you up in his arms, grunting with the effort. You were heavier than he anticipated, but he refused to let that slow him down. He carried you back to his horse, gently laying you across the saddle before mounting up behind you.

Arthur held you tightly as the horse galloped through the snow, his eyes never leaving your face. He could feel your body growing colder and weaker, and the fear in his heart threatened to overwhelm him.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "You're gonna be alright, I promise."

It felt like hours before they finally arrived at the doctor's cabin. Arthur rushed in, calling out for help as he carried you inside. The doctor took one look at your injuries and immediately got to work, but Arthur couldn't bear to leave your side.

He sat beside you, holding your hand and watching as the doctor worked tirelessly to save your life. And when you finally opened your eyes, weak and dazed, Arthur felt like he could finally breathe again.

"You scared me, Y/N," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But you're gonna be alright now. I won't let anything happen to you."

Dutch Van der Linde

You and Dutch were in the middle of a heated battle against a rival gang. You had been fighting fiercely, taking down several of the enemy members. But in the chaos, you were hit by a stray bullet and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Dutch immediately rushed over to you, his heart pounding with fear. He had always been protective of you, and the thought of losing you was too much to bear. He checked for a pulse, and thankfully, you were still alive.

Desperate to keep you conscious, he called out your name and shook you gently, hoping to rouse you. But you remained still, and Dutch knew he had to act fast. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around you, trying to keep you warm in the midst of the battle and the chilly air.

He pressed his hand against your wound, trying to stem the bleeding as he looked around for a way out. He spotted a nearby alleyway and made a decision. He scooped you up in his arms, careful not to aggravate your injury, and ran towards the alleyway.

As he ran, he spoke to you softly, urging you to stay with him. "Come on, y/n," he whispered. "Don't give up on me now. You're going to be alright."

When he finally made it to the end of the alleyway, he spotted a horse and carriage parked nearby. He rushed over and spoke to the driver, explaining your situation and begging him to take you to the nearest doctor.

The driver hesitated at first, but the desperation in Dutch's voice and the sight of you, pale and still in his arms, convinced him to help. Dutch carefully laid you down in the carriage, trying his best to keep you warm and conscious.

As the carriage set off towards the doctor's, Dutch stayed by your side, his hand still pressed against your wound. He spoke to you constantly, telling you stories and memories in an attempt to keep you alert and awake.

When the carriage finally arrived at the doctor's, Dutch practically carried you inside, begging for the doctor to save you. He watched anxiously as the doctor tended to your wound, his heart racing with fear.

As the doctor worked, Dutch paced back and forth, his mind racing with thoughts of what could happen if you didn't make it. He thought of all the times he had spent with you, all the memories they had shared, and the thought of losing you was unbearable.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor emerged from the back room with good news. You were going to be okay.

Dutch let out a sigh of relief, his body shaking with emotion. He rushed over to you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it gently. "Thank God you're okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

From that day on, Dutch made sure to keep a closer eye on you during battles, making sure that you were never put in harm's way again. He realized that losing you would be too great a loss, and he was willing to do anything to keep you safe.

John Marston

You and John were out on a mission with the rest of the gang, trying to take over a rival gang's hideout. But things went wrong and you got shot in the crossfire. John rushed over to your side and saw that you were badly injured. Your eyes kept fluttering shut, and each time you did, John's heart skipped a beat.

He knew he had to keep you awake until they could get you to a doctor, but he didn't know how. He tried talking to you, shaking you, and slapping your face lightly, but nothing seemed to work. He felt helpless and desperate.

"Come on, stay with me," he pleaded with you, his voice laced with worry. "You gotta stay awake, okay? We're gonna get you out of here and to a doctor."

He tried to keep you talking, asking about your favorite things and your childhood memories. He even tried to make you laugh by telling you some jokes, but all he got in return was a weak smile.

As he looked at you, he noticed how pale your skin was and how your breathing was becoming more labored. He had to act fast. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around you, trying to keep you warm. He also checked your pulse and monitored your breathing, trying to keep you stable until they could get to a doctor.

The journey to the doctor was a long and bumpy one, and each time the horse stumbled or hit a rough patch, John's heart would race with fear that you might not make it. He kept talking to you, telling you how much you meant to him and the gang, and how much they all needed you.

Finally, they arrived at the doctor's office, and John carried you inside. The doctor immediately tended to your wounds, and John watched anxiously from the corner of the room.

As the doctor worked on you, John could feel his heart in his throat. He had never been so scared in his life. He paced back and forth, wringing his hands and muttering under his breath.

When the doctor finally emerged from the room, John rushed over to him. "How is she? Is she gonna be okay?" he asked urgently.

The doctor gave him a small smile. "She's going to be just fine. She's a fighter," he said.

John let out a sigh of relief, his whole body sagging with the weight of the tension that had been building up inside him. He looked back at you, sleeping peacefully on the bed, and felt a wave of emotions wash over him.

He knew that he cared deeply for you and that he couldn't bear the thought of losing you. As he sat there, watching over you, he vowed to always protect you, no matter what it took.

Charles Smith

You and Charles had been fighting side by side in a fierce battle against a gang of outlaws. Despite your best efforts, one of the enemies had managed to sneak up behind you and deliver a devastating blow to the back of your head. You had collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Charles was immediately by your side, his heart racing with fear. He knelt down beside you and checked for a pulse, relieved when he felt it beating steadily beneath his fingertips. But as he watched, he could see that your breathing was shallow and labored, a clear sign that you were in serious trouble.

Without a moment's hesitation, Charles lifted you gently into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he looked around frantically for a way to get you to safety. He spotted a nearby horse that had been abandoned by its owner in the chaos of the battle and knew that it was your only hope.

He carefully laid you across the horse's back, making sure that you were as comfortable as possible, despite your injuries. He mounted the horse himself, holding you steady with one arm as he kicked the animal into motion.

As they rode, Charles talked to you softly, willing you to stay with him, to keep fighting. He could feel the weight of your body pressing against him, a constant reminder of how close he was to losing you. He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, searching desperately for any sign of help.

Finally, he saw the faint outline of a small settlement in the distance, and he spurred the horse forward with renewed energy. As they drew closer, he could see a doctor's office and he let out a sigh of relief. He dismounted the horse with you still in his arms, bursting into the office and calling for the doctor.

The doctor rushed to your side, examining you carefully as Charles paced back and forth, his heart pounding in his chest. The doctor's face was grave as he spoke to Charles, telling him that you had suffered a serious head injury and that your prognosis was uncertain.

Charles sank into a chair, his head in his hands as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He knew that he couldn't lose you, that he needed you by his side more than anything else in the world.

He stayed by your side throughout the long, difficult night, his hand clasped tightly in yours as he talked to you softly, willing you to wake up. When morning finally came, the doctor emerged from his examination room with a small smile on his face.

"You're a lucky man," he told Charles. "She's going to make it."

Charles felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he let out a deep breath. He looked down at you, still sleeping soundly, and felt a surge of love and protectiveness wash over him. He vowed then and there to never let anything harm you again, to always be by your side no matter what the future held.

Sadie Adler

You and Sadie Adler had always been close. Despite the harsh life of an outlaw, the two of you had formed a bond that was unbreakable. So when you were injured in a battle with a rival gang, she was by your side in an instant.

You were barely conscious, your head swimming with pain as you struggled to stay awake. But Sadie's voice was a constant presence, urging you to keep your eyes open, to keep fighting.

"Come on, y/n," she said, her voice tight with worry. "Stay with me. You're gonna be okay."

You could feel her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently as she tried to rouse you from your stupor. You wanted to respond, to tell her that you were trying, but your lips wouldn't move, your voice wouldn't come.

Desperate, Sadie began to slap your cheeks lightly, hoping to shock you awake. You winced at the pain, but it was enough to keep you conscious for a few more moments.

"You're doing great," she said, her voice softening. "Just keep breathing, okay? You're gonna make it through this."

As the world around you began to fade into darkness, Sadie's voice was the only thing that kept you anchored to reality. But soon, even that wasn't enough. You felt your body slipping away, your consciousness fading into oblivion.

But then, just when you thought all was lost, you felt a pair of strong arms scoop you up, cradling you like a child. It was Sadie, carrying you to safety.

"I've got you," she whispered, her voice strained with effort. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

Despite her small size, Sadie was strong. She carried you for what felt like hours, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she struggled to keep going. But she never faltered, never gave up.

Finally, you saw the lights of a town in the distance. Sadie carried you to a doctor's office, where they took you in for treatment. As she watched you being taken away, Sadie's eyes filled with tears.

"You're gonna be okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, y/n, don't leave me. I can't lose you."

Days passed as you lay in bed, your body wracked with pain. But Sadie was there, by your side every moment, her hand clasped tightly around yours as she prayed for your recovery.

Finally, the day came when you were strong enough to leave. Sadie helped you to your feet, her eyes shining with relief and joy.

"I thought I'd lost you," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "I couldn't bear it. You're my family, y/n. You mean everything to me."

You hugged her tightly, tears streaming down your face. You knew that without her, you wouldn't have made it through. And you knew that no matter what happened, you and Sadie would always be there for each other, no matter what the future held.

Lenny Summers

Lenny Summers had never felt so helpless before. He watched in horror as you collapsed to the ground after taking a severe blow to the head during a fierce battle with rival gang members. You were bleeding heavily and had lost consciousness, causing Lenny's heart to race with fear and panic.

He quickly rushed to your side and checked for a pulse, relieved to find it still present but weak. Lenny knew that he had to act fast if he wanted to save your life. He began to shake you, calling out your name in hopes of waking you up.

"Come on, wake up! Stay with me," he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice.

When you didn't stir, Lenny started slapping your face gently, trying to bring you back to consciousness. But it was no use. You remained unresponsive, and Lenny felt his world start to crumble around him.

Thinking quickly, Lenny lifted you gently and carried you towards the nearest town where he knew there was a doctor. As he walked, he spoke to you, begging you to stay awake.

"Come on, keep your eyes open. You're going to be okay. Just hold on a little longer," he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion.

He could feel your weight becoming heavier in his arms with each passing moment, and Lenny knew he had to act quickly. He started slapping your face harder, hoping to rouse you from your unconscious state.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lenny arrived at the doctor's office. He barged in and placed you gently on the nearest bed, calling out for the doctor.

The doctor rushed to your side, assessing your injuries while Lenny watched with bated breath. Lenny's heart sank as the doctor confirmed that you had suffered a severe concussion and that the situation was grave.

He knew that he had to stay strong for you, so he held your hand and whispered words of encouragement into your ear, urging you to fight and stay alive.

Hours passed, and Lenny stayed by your side, never leaving your side. Finally, you stirred, and Lenny breathed a sigh of relief. He was overjoyed to see you wake up, and he knew that he would never let anything happen to you again.

"Thank God you're awake. I was so scared I was going to lose you," Lenny said, tears of relief streaming down his face.

You looked up at him, weakly smiling, and whispered, "Thank you for being there for me."

Lenny smiled back, relieved and grateful that you were alive. From that day forward, he made a vow to himself to always protect you and keep you safe, no matter the cost.

Sean Macguire

You and Sean had been fighting for what felt like hours, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you fired round after round at the enemy. But then, in a sudden moment, everything went black.

When you finally came to, you were lying on the ground, pain coursing through your body. You tried to sit up, but your head was spinning and your vision was blurry. You could hear Sean's voice in the distance, but it sounded muffled, like he was speaking through a tunnel.

"Hey, hey, stay with me," Sean said, his voice filled with panic. "Come on, keep your eyes open."

You could feel his hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently. You tried to focus on his face, but it was all a blur. You felt cold and shaky, and your body was screaming in agony.

"Sean, what happened?" you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

"You got hit pretty bad," Sean replied, his voice trembling. "Just stay with me, okay? I'm gonna try to keep you awake."

Sean's eyes were wide with fear as he looked down at you. He knew that if you fell asleep, you might never wake up. He had to keep you conscious until they could get you to a doctor.

He grabbed his canteen of water and poured some onto a piece of cloth, then gently wiped your face with it. The cold water felt refreshing against your skin, but it wasn't enough to ease the pain.

"Sean, it hurts," you groaned, clenching your teeth.

"I know, I know," Sean replied, his voice cracking. "But you gotta stay strong, okay? We're gonna get you out of here."

Sean knew that he couldn't carry you on his own, not with the enemy still lurking around. He had to get help. He quickly pulled out his whistle and blew it, the sound echoing through the battlefield.

Within minutes, a group of their fellow gang members arrived, and Sean explained the situation to them. Together, they carefully lifted you onto a makeshift stretcher and began carrying you away from the danger.

As they walked, Sean kept talking to you, trying to keep you awake. He asked you questions about your life, anything to keep your mind occupied. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the fear that he might lose you.

Finally, you arrived at a small medical tent, and Sean rushed inside, calling for a doctor. The doctor came over, examining your wound and shaking his head gravely.

"This is bad," he said, his voice low. "We need to get them to a real hospital, now."

Sean's heart sank as he heard the doctor's words. He couldn't lose you, not like this. He had to get you to safety, no matter what.

With the help of the other gang members, Sean carried you to the nearest town, where they managed to find a doctor who could treat your injuries. As you lay on the operating table, Sean sat in the waiting room, his head in his hands.

He didn't know what he would do if he lost you. You had become more than just a comrade in arms, you had become a friend, someone he cared deeply for.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor emerged from the operating room. Sean jumped up, rushing over to him.

"How are they?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor smiled. "They’re going to be okay. We managed to stabilize them, and they’re going to make a full recovery."

Sean let out a sigh of relief, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't believe it. You were going to be okay.

Kieran Duffy

As the battle raged on, you found yourself in the middle of the chaos, fighting for your life alongside Kieran. The adrenaline pumping through your veins gave you the strength to keep fighting, but eventually, you took a heavy blow to the head, and everything went black.

When you came to, you were lying on the ground, your head pounding with pain. Kieran was kneeling beside you, his face etched with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice shaky.

You tried to answer, but the pain was too intense, and you passed out again.

Kieran's panic increased as he watched you lose consciousness again. He knew he had to act fast to keep you alive. He grabbed a canteen of water and splashed it on your face, hoping to wake you up.

"Come on, wake up," he said urgently. "We have to get you out of here."

He quickly checked your pulse and breathing, relieved to find that you were still alive, but he knew that time was running out. He needed to get you to a doctor as soon as possible.

With all his strength, Kieran lifted you onto his back and began carrying you through the battlefield, dodging enemy fire as he went. He tried to keep you awake by talking to you, telling you stories about his past, anything to keep your mind occupied.

Finally, he made it to a nearby doctor's tent, where he gently laid you down on a cot. The doctor rushed over to examine you, his face grave.

"It's touch and go," he said to Kieran. "We'll do everything we can, but she may not make it."

Kieran's heart sank at the thought of losing you. He knew he couldn't bear it. He sat by your side, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement to you.

"You're strong," he said. "You can pull through this. You have to."

Hours passed, and Kieran remained by your side, never leaving even for a moment. He watched as the doctor tended to your wounds, his heart in his throat with fear.

Finally, you stirred, and Kieran's heart leaped with joy. He watched as you opened your eyes and looked up at him, confusion written on your face.

"You're safe," he said, relief flooding his voice. "You're going to be alright."

You smiled weakly, your eyes closing again as you drifted off to sleep.

Kieran stayed by your side, watching over you until you finally recovered. He was grateful that he had been there to save you, and he vowed never to let anything happen to you again.

290 notes · View notes

sixgunluvr · 18 days

Text

A Love To Protect

Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Mature Age 18+ Readers ONLY

Pairing Arthur with a female reader.

There may be errors. I read through these a couple times but I still may miss things.

The days turned into weeks, and the search for Micah proved to be fruitless. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind. But Dutch reminded everyone that Micah would resurface eventually, and when he did, they would be ready.

As you settled into your new routine with the gang, a sense of normalcy began to return. You rode alongside Arthur during the day, watching him as he effortlessly maneuvered through the untamed wilderness.

His muscles rippled under his shirt, and the look of concentration on his face as he scouted for danger was unbearably sexy. He was everything you could ever want in a man: ruggedly handsome, protective, kind, and incredibly skilled at what he did. You couldn't help but feel safe with him by your side.

He hasn't taken any dangerous jobs since the incident with Micah, and you could tell he was more focused on keeping you safe rather than accumulating wealth.

You felt guilty for distracting him from his goals, but he always reassured you that you were worth it.

"Baby, you're all I need," he would tell you, his green eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race.

It wasn't long before you found yourself falling deeper in love with him.

One night, as the crackling fire illuminated the surrounding area, you found yourself gazing at him admiringly.

The flames danced in his gorgeous green eyes as he caught you looking at him. The sexual tension between you two was palpable. It was as if Micah had never existed, and all that mattered in this moment was the love between the two of you.

Arthur leaned in closer to you, desire etched on his face as he whispered, "Y-you know I love you, right?"

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. Arthur's eyes darkened and he let out a growl before leaning in to kiss you. His lips were rough and demanding, owning every inch of your mouth as his tongue explored the depths of it. You kissed him back just as passionately, your hands roaming his muscular chest and back.

He pulled away for a moment to look at you with raw hunger in his eyes. "I need you now," he murmured, lifting your chin so he could stare deep into your soul.

You were so lost in each other that you almost forgot you weren't alone.

The rest of the group was there, watching the two of you with a mixture of amusement and desire.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed," Dutch said, breaking the spell that had been cast over the group.

Javier and Lenny nodded in agreement before standing up and walking away. Arthur and you were left alone, still caught up in your embrace.

"Yeah," John added clearing his throat, "I'm gonna go see what Abigail is up to," he added getting up to leave the fire.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Arthur whispered, his voice low and husky.

He stood up, pulling you with him. You followed him out of the circle of light cast by the fire, your bodies moving in sync as if attached by an invisible string.

You stumbled towards the tent, tripping over rocks and twigs in your haste. Arthur caught you around the waist, his hands hot against your skin. He pulled you close, stopping to kiss you under the starlit sky. It was a slow, passionate kiss that made the blood rush to your head and set every nerve ending on fire.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless and dizzy.

Your chest was heaving, and your lips felt swollen from the force of his kiss.

"C'mon," he said leading you to Boadicea, "We need to go somewhere where I can hear you scream my name."

Your heart jumped in your chest at his dirty talk, and you felt a wetness grow between your legs. Arthur lifted you onto Boadicea's saddle, climbing up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

As you rode off into the night, you turned your head to face him, kissing his jawline and licking his neck.

His stubble tickled your tongue as he groaned with pleasure.

"Goddamn, you're sexy," he growled before biting your earlobe.

You moaned in response, feeling his growing erection against your backside. The thought of him taking you right there under the stars turned you on beyond belief. You shamelessly rubbed your ass against him, making him growl deeper in anticipation.

Without a word, Arthur pulled Boadicea to a stop in a secluded area sheltered by trees and bushes.

A full moon lit up the warm night, casting a soft glow on your surroundings.

The air was filled with the scent of wildflowers and pine trees, complemented by the sound of crickets chirping in the background.

Arthur quickly hopped down to the ground, grabbing you by the waist, helping you off of his magnificent horse.

You shivered in anticipation as his husky voice broke the silence, "I need you now."

He pulled your body close to his, trapping you between him and Boadicea.

The heat from his body sent shivers down your spine as he placed his hands firmly on your hips.

"I'm gonna fill you with every inch of my cock," he growled, nibbling on your ear lobe. "Say you want it."

His dirty talk made you whimper with desire. You were already soaked through your pants, and the anticipation of feeling him inside you was maddening.

"I want it so bad," you murmured, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss was raw and demanding, just like him.

You could feel the desire and need coursing through his veins as he pinned you against Boadicea. Your hips grinded against his, feeling his hardness through the layers of fabric that separated you.

"You're mine," he growled, breaking away from the kiss to trail his lips down your neck.

His hands moved up your body, cupping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You gasped at the sensation, arching your back and pressing yourself even closer to him.

Reluctantly breaking away he grabbed the bedroll from Boadicea, caught your hand and led you to a moonlit clearing.

He quickly spread the bedroll onto the ground and turned to you, pulling you into his arms like he was a man possessed. His lips found yours in a searing kiss that made your knees weak and your heart race like a runaway horse.

Your hands roamed feverishly over his sweat-slicked chest, feeling every inch of hard muscle that he had earned through endless hours in the saddle and countless gunfights. Your fingernails dug into his skin, leaving red trails of possession for everyone to see.

His left hand found its way beneath your shirt, feeling your hot flesh against his rough palm.

He let out a low growl as he squeezed your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. You gasped at the sensation, feeling yourself grow even wetter with need.

Without breaking the kiss, Arthur roughly grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head. Your breasts spilled free, bouncing slightly from the force of his movements. He leaned back just enough to take in the sight of you, a feral hunger in his eyes that caused your heart to race.

You were his prey, and he was about to devour you whole.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groaned, admiring your bare breasts with a ravenous hunger. Your nipples hardened under his gaze, begging for attention. He dipped his head down and sucked one into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive pink tip.

You moaned loudly, feeling yourself pulsating with need. His other hand roamed over your body, teasing the edges of your pants as he continued to suck and lick your breasts with wild abandon.

You tangled your fingers in his thick, brown hair, pulling him closer as you arched your back in ecstasy.

Arthur wasted no time, tugging at the waistband of your pants and forcing them down your legs. You stepped out of them awkwardly, kicking your boots off as well. Arthur's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you standing there, completely naked and vulnerable under the moonlit sky.

He quickly shed his own clothes, revealing solid muscles that rippled under softly tanned skin that glowed in the darkness.

His erect cock stood at attention, and you couldn't help but lick your lips in anticipation of how he would feel inside of you.

"Fuck, Arthur," you breathed in a whisper as he backed you onto the bedroll. His dick brushed against your thigh and everything in you clenched up in desire. The ache between your legs was almost unbearable, and there was nothing you wanted more than to have him inside you, making you forget everything outside this moment.

But Arthur had other plans.

He wanted to explore every inch of your body before taking you right then and there.

"Fuck, I want to taste every inch of you," he groaned as he lowered himself between your legs. His warm breath tickled your already sensitive folds and it took all of your willpower not to buck your hips towards his face.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide open as his hot mouth descended upon your pussy. You moaned loudly, letting your head fall back against the soft bedroll as he licked and sucked at you hungrily.

It felt like nothing you had ever experienced before, and you found yourself pulling at his hair, urging him on.

He seemed to sense your desire, and his tongue plunged deeper inside of you, making you moan loudly under the moonlit sky.

He traced slow, deliberate circles around your clit with his tongue, and your hips lifted off the bedroll, seeking more contact.

"Yes, oh God, yes," you gasped as his tongue swirled and darted, the sensation building rapidly. You reached down and tangled your fingers in his thick hair, as if trying to keep him grounded between your legs. But Arthur was anything but submissive; he slipped a hand between your thighs and began to rub your clit with his thumb while driving his tongue deep inside you.

Your mind spun, and you could feel yourself building towards an earth-shattering climax.

"Oh, Arthur, yes!" you cried out as he continued his skilled assault on your pussy. He slipped a finger inside of you, then two, fucking you with his hand as he sucked your clit. You thrust against him, desperate for more. The fire that had been building in your belly burst into a wildfire and swept through your body, sending you soaring over the edge.

You screamed as the orgasm rocked through you, wave after wave of pure pleasure crashing down on you.

Your vision blurred and you couldn't help but convulse from the sheer intensity of it all. When you finally came down from your high, you opened your eyes to see Arthur looking up at you with a devilish grin on his face.

"Goddamn, woman," he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste like pure sin."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words, feeling more alive than ever before. Arthur had a way of making everything seem so much better, and you were grateful to have him in your life.

You never believed in love at first sight until you met him, but now you knew it was possible. And as he climbed on top of you, you couldn't help but feel lucky to be with such a wonderful man.

"I want you inside me," you whispered, your voice thick with desire. Arthur growled in response, his eyes darkening with lust as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slowly pushed inside of you, filling you up in a way that made your toes curl.

Arthur didn't rush; he took his time, savoring every inch of you as he slid in deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he began to move. "You feel so good."

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in even closer as you rocked your hips in time with his thrusts. The feeling was overwhelmingly intense, and you couldn't help but moan as he hit that perfect spot deep inside of you.

Arthur's thrusts grew more urgent as the two of you moved in perfect harmony. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and your breathy moans filled the air around you.

"Fuck, I love you so much," Arthur gasped, his sweat dripping onto your chest. His words sent a shiver down your spine and made your heart swell with emotion. You reached up and pulled his face down to yours, kissing him deeply as you tightened your muscles around his cock. Arthur grunted at the sensation before breaking away from the kiss.

"Goddammit, you're tight as a fucking vise," he growled, as he continued to thrust into you with long, deep strokes.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Your bodies moved together like two pieces of a well-worn puzzle. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body until you cried out his name, the sound echoing in the still night air.

But Arthur wasn't done with you yet. With a wicked glint in his eye, he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

Before you could even object, his hand came down on your ass with a resounding smack. It stung at first, but it quickly turned into a warmth that spread throughout your entire body.

"You like that, don't you?" he growled, spanking you again. "Tell me how much you like it."

You bit your lip, feeling the rush of pleasure and pain mix together in a heady cocktail. "Yes," you finally managed to gasp out.

"I love it, Arthur. Fuck me hard."

At your words, he slammed into you with all his might. Each thrust deeper than the last, his hips pistoning like a well-oiled machine. Every inch of him filled you to the brim, slamming against your cervix and making you cry out in pleasure. Sweat dripped from his brow, his muscles straining as he gripped your hips and pulled you closer.

His hands were rough and calloused, a product of the outlaw life he had led before you came into his world. But to you, they were a symbol of protection and safety. He would always keep you safe, no matter what dangers lurked out there in the untamed wilderness.

As Arthur continued to thrust into you hard and fast, you could feel yourself rapidly approaching another orgasm. His hand reached around your hip and began to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were almost too much to handle, but you didn't want him to stop. You moaned loudly into the night, pushing back against him as he plunged deeper and harder into your wet heat.

His thrusts became more urgent, his heavy balls slapping against your clit with each powerful stroke.

"Oh fuck, yeah," he grunted, sweat beading on his forehead as he slammed into you again and again. "You're so fucking tight, baby."

You reached down and rubbed your swollen clit, the additional stimulation sending shivers down your spine.

"Come on my cock, sweetheart," Arthur growled, fucking you even harder. "I want to feel your tight little pussy squeeze every inch of my dick."

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your entire body trembling with pleasure as you screamed his name. Arthur followed shortly after, his cock pulsating as he emptied himself inside of you.

He collapsed onto the bedroll beside you, both of you panting heavily as your chests rose and fell in time with each other.

His hand found yours in the darkness, and you laced your fingers with his, reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours.

The wind picked up, sending a chill down your spine as it rustled through the leaves above you. But you didn't mind; you were too caught up in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking to worry about anything else.

Arthur turned to face you, his green eyes piercing through the darkness like twin beacons.

He leaned in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I've been thinking about taking you right here under this starlit sky since the moment I laid eyes on you."

You moaned softly as he trailed his lips down your neck, his stubble scratching against your sensitive skin. His hands roamed over your body, lighting another fire within you that threatened to consume you.

You could feel him getting hard again, the rigid length of his cock pressing against your thigh.

"Fuck, I want you again," he growled, nipping at your ear.

You shivered in response, arching yourself towards him like a cat in heat.

His fingers found their way back to your pussy, teasing the already sensitive flesh with slow circles.

You moaned and writhed against him, desperate for more.

Reaching down between your bodies you gripped his thick shaft and began stroking.

Arthur groaned loudly, his head falling back as he reveled in the sensation of your warm, soft hand around him. You squeezed tighter, feeling the silky skin slide against your palm as precum leaked from the tip.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted, his fingers still working their magic between your legs. "I need to be inside that sweet pussy again."

"Not yet, cowboy," you whispered, gripping his cock tighter as you began to slide your hand up and down his length. "I want to taste you first."

Arthur groaned, his hips jerking forward as you leaned in to take him into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling over the sensitive tip as you sucked in earnest.

He tasted like salt and musk, a heady combination that made your head spin with desire. You felt him grow harder in your mouth, each thrust of his hips driving deeper into your throat until you couldn't take anymore.

"Damn it, baby," he groaned, pulling away from your lips as he tugged at your hair. "Enough. I need to be inside you."

He pulled you up on top of him. Holding his thick cock up for you, your dripping wet pussy slid effortlessly down the length of his thick shaft, taking every inch deep inside of you.

"Ah fuck!" he groaned, gripping your hips and guiding your movements as you began to ride him. Each thrust of your hips met his with equal force, driving him deeper and harder into your depths.

His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you in a primal rhythm that spoke of nothing but pure desire.

Arthur's breathing was ragged as he grunted beneath you, sweat beading on his brow as you rode him like a wild mustang, desperate for the release that beckoned just out of reach.

Your body trembled with each powerful stroke, thighs quivering as they squeezed around his waist. Your breasts bounced in time with your movements, nipples hardening to stiff peaks that begged for attention.

Arthur couldn't resist the allure, reaching up to cup and knead your flesh like a man possessed. He rolled your erect nipples between his fingers, pulling and twisting them gently until you cried out in pleasure.

"Yes, oh God, yes!" you screamed as your orgasm built higher and higher. Your body tensed, muscles tightening as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you panting and gasping for breath.

Arthur wasn't far behind.

With one last deep thrust, he exploded inside you, filling you with his warm seed. He held onto you tightly, not wanting to let go as your orgasms subsided.

The stars above you seemed to twinkle brighter than ever before as you lay there in each other's arms. It was a perfect moment that neither of you wanted to end.

But alas, all good things must come to an end, so you slowly rolled off of Arthur and lay beside him.

You snuggled up to him, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The wind whispered around you, and you shivered, but not from the chill in the air. No, you shivered from the aftermath of your earth-shattering orgasms and from knowing that you had just given yourself to this rugged outlaw cowboy – body, heart, and soul.

As if sensing your thoughts, Arthur wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer, whispering in your ear, “I love you.”

You sighed contentedly, your head resting on his chest as his heartbeat lulled you into a peaceful state of mind.

Suddenly, the sound of a twig snapping made you both bolt upright, your heart racing as you quickly scanned the area around you. The only light was coming from the moon.

"Who's there?" Arthur called out, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun that was never far from his reach.

Arthur threw you his shirt to cover yourself as he jumped up grabbing his pants.

A figure emerged from the shadows, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was none other than Micah, the man who had caused nothing but trouble for both of you.

He walked into the clearing with a swagger in his step, his eyes glinting with malice and lust.

"Well hello there, lovebirds," he drawled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before settling on Arthur. "Looked like you two were having some fun."

Arthur's grip on his gun tightened, but you placed a hand on his arm, silently imploring him to hold back. You didn't want any more violence or bloodshed – not when you had finally found your own piece of happiness with Arthur.

So you took a deep breath and spoke up, "We don't want any trouble, Micah. Just leave us alone." Your voice was steady, but your heart pounded in your chest as you spoke. The tension between the three of you was palpable, and it felt like you were on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and you would all fall to your doom.

Micah chuckled low in his throat, his eyes never leaving Arthur. "Oh, I'm not here to cause any trouble, darlin'. I just wanted to offer you a deal that, well, let's just say, you can't refuse this one."

You frowned, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"What do you mean, a deal? And why should we trust you?"

Micah's eyes gleamed in the darkness as he took a step forward. "I'm here to make you a proposition, cowpoke." He glanced over at you, his gaze lingering for a moment before returning to Arthur. "I'll leave you both alone if you do one simple task for me. A small price to pay for a peace of mind, don't you think?

You see I've been watching you both over the past few weeks. I know you're worried about her safety," he said with a smirk pointing at you.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, skepticism clear on his face.

"What kind of task?" His grip on his gun remained firm, ready to draw it at any moment if necessary.

Micah grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I have something that I need delivered to the other side of town. But I had an... unfortunate encounter with some of the locals, so I can't exactly deliver it myself."

You couldn't help but feel uneasy about this arrangement. Micah had always been untrustworthy, and a feeling in the pit of your stomach told you that this was a bad idea.

But you couldn't deny the allure of not having to wonder when or where Micah would make his move on you. You glanced up at Arthur, hoping to see some reassurance in his eyes, but instead you saw only skepticism and distrust. You knew that he would never agree to such a risky proposition, not unless he had no other choice.

"What if we refuse?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Micah's grin widened, and for a moment he looked almost demonic under the glow of the moonlight.

"Oh, that would be a mistake, darlin'. A very big mistake. You see, if you refuse I'll lead the Pinkertons right to your little gang," he said adding an evil smile. "You see, I've been doing some wheeling and dealing with the Pinkertons and they've offered me freedom in exchange for all of you," he added smiling.

Arthur's grip on his gun tightened even further, but he said nothing. You could feel the tension in his body as he considered their options.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice low and dangerous. "What exactly are you proposing?"

Micah chuckled again, taking a step closer to them.

"I knew you'd see things my way, cowpoke. What I need from you is simple. There's a man named Silas in the next town over. He's expecting a delivery from me, but after a... disagreement, I won't be able to make it myself. You can take care of it for me, and in return, I'll leave the both of you alone and you'll never see me again."

Arthur's grip on his gun remained firm as he considered their options.

"And what's to stop me from just shooting you right now and taking my chances?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Well, for one thing, there's the matter of my men hiding in the shadows. If anything happens to me, they've been instructed to open fire.

And for another, I have connections in high places. One wrong move, and your peaceful little existence will be destroyed." Micah's voice had lost its charm and was now tinged with a dark, dangerous edge.

Arthur clenched his jaw, anger flaring up within him as he thought about how manipulative and evil Micah truly was. But despite the rage boiling inside him, Arthur knew Micah spoke the truth.

They had been dealing with Micah for too long, always looking over their shoulders, never able to truly find peace. The temptation of a life without worrying about him was almost too much to resist, and Arthur couldn't let his anger towards him jeopardize that opportunity.

Arthur reluctantly lowered his gun, letting out a deep sigh as he conceded defeat. "Alright, we'll do it.

But if you cross us, I swear to God I'll hunt you down and make you pay," Arthur growled, still gripping his gun as he stared Micah down.

Micah smirked, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. "Of course, of course. I wouldn't dream of crossing you, cowpoke." His tone was light, but his eyes held a glint of warning that made Arthur's skin crawl.

The silence hung heavy in the air as the two men stared each other down, their distrust for one another palpable.

But as the moments passed, reality set in for Arthur. He had made a deal with the devil himself, and there was no turning back now.

You knew what Arthur was capable of, and you didn't doubt for a second that he would follow through with his threat. But for now, you had to trust that this deal with Micah was the best way forward.

Micah handed Arthur a saddlebag and a piece of paper, his grin never fading. "Just make sure this gets to Silas personally. He'll be waiting tomorrow afternoon at the spot I marked on this map. Oh, and try not to open it, unless you want an unfortunate surprise."

You couldn't help but notice the menacing tone in his voice as he spoke the last sentence, sending another chill down your spine.

But there was no turning back now; the deal had been made, and all you could do was trust Arthur to keep you safe.

Micah turned to leave, but not before casting one last sinister smile in your direction. "Until we meet again, my dear," he said, turning to leave.

"Oh, and one other thing, cowpoke," Micah added turning back towards us. "She," he said pointing at you, "has to make the delivery, alone," he smirked.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. There was no way you could make the delivery alone; there was too much danger involved. But you couldn't risk letting Arthur go with the package either. What if Micah double-crossed them? You couldn't put Arthur in that kind of danger.

"No," you said, your voice shaking slightly. "I can't."

Micah cocked his head to one side and looked at you like a predator examining its prey.

"Well, it appears that you don't have a choice in the matter, sweetheart. You see, Arthur here has something I want, and if he wants to keep it safe, then you'll do as I say," he added glaring at Arthur, "right, cowpoke?"

You felt the blood drain from your face as Micah's words sank in. You glanced over at Arthur, pleading with him to object, but his expression was unreadable. You knew that he would do anything to protect you, and Micah was clearly counting on that.

"Fine," you said reluctantly.

"I'll do it."

Micah grinned, looking victorious. "Good girl. I knew I could count on you." He looked over at Arthur. "Now, I'm a man of my word. You make sure she makes the delivery, and I'll make sure that she makes it back to you safe and sound. But if she doesn't show up or if anything happens to that package, well...let's just say that you won't like the consequences."

Threat lingering in the air, Micah walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the wilderness.

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

Note

I'm super curious about what your theory was about John's change of heart regarding the New Orleans trip was if you'd be willing to share it? I'm admittedly not super knowledgeable about the lost weekend in general, and I've always been a bit confused why he turned Paul down after agreeing to go. I've not read May's book either, so I was wondering what, if anything, it said about her perspective on his decision?

(Also I've been really enjoying your ULM series so far! It's so fantastic to hear another perspective on the doc!)

Honestly this episode explains it better than I could. It relies heavily on May's book and Janov's book as sources.

If you don't feel like listening to the whole episode, here's the breakdown of the theory.

Arthur Janov, the Primal Scream guy, was insanely homophobic and believed he could "cure" homosexuality and believed in conversion therapy.

John came out of primal scream therapy extremely homophobic.

When John and May were getting ready for New Orleans, they were also looking at houses, planning their future together.

John was also extremely busy during the lost weekend, like he had been in the early period with Yoko, and like he had been with the Beatles. He was recording his own albums, collaborating, producing, performing, partying.

Yoko kept telling him about this great new "smoking cure" that May wasn't allowed to know anything about let alone be present for.

When John came back from the "cure" he acted like a zombie, completely not his normal self. May was scared and worried.

When May asked him about the cure, he said it was awful. Just like primal scream therapy. They'd do it to him (what, I've no idea) and then he'd be sick, over and over.

He was still smoking.

He was vehemently against New Orleans and working with Paul

He got back with Yoko.

He became reclusive and unreachable and abandoned his career for years.

Based on this (and again, @anotherkindofmindpod explains it much better) my theory is some type of conversion therapy.

I want to stress the point that if this theory is correct, the anger needs to be directed at the society that created this hatred and self hatred, not one individual (Yoko).

Thanks for the ask! I'm so glad you're enjoying the ULM posts, and I hope the podcast helps.

#john lennon #yoko ono #thanks for the ask!

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pryce0 · 1 year

Note

Omggg i loved you're middle eastern ask could you maybe make something similar with an Italian reader, only if ur okay with it tho 😊

Gang Members React to Italian!GN!Reader

gif by; @purpledragongifs

masterlist; here

a/n; it’s no problem! ty for your patience. i actually took italian as a language class for a couple of years, so some of the italian is from me :-) also there will likely not be a part two to this because there’s a lot going on in my life rn, t i’ll put my whole soul into this!!

included members; arthur, john, charles, javier.

———————————

Arthur Morgan

He isn’t really too affected by your accent, spending enough time in Saint Denis got him used to Italian accents. One thing he never got a good grasp on was your language; English isn’t his strong suit either, so don’t be surprised when you speak Italian and he questions you.

After Sean nearly blew your head off, you screamed, “Impara a mirare, stronzo!” In an angry tone. Arthur looked at you as if you had two heads. “Say what now?”

Arthur likes hearing about the different dishes you’ve had in the past, how different the food is from the States compared to Italy. Of course, there aren’t many differences, but some dishes that are called the same thing aren’t too similar.

He listens to your rants; your angry ones, your confused ones, everything.

“Lasagna here is very different than the lasagna back home!!”

He sees your reactions to culture clashes in real time and he thinks it’s a bit funny. When you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and then did the same thing to Tilly, he was confused.

After you explain the culture side of it, he understands. Arthur lets you do it to him as a greeting and a goodbye afterwards.

Arthur is used to hearing Italian, but he never learned it as a whole besides the basic phrases. I imagine he never learns how to properly speak it, but he learns to understand it to an extent.

John Marston

He thinks your anger is funny. He thinks your accent is funny. Very very funny. Your accent tends to get thicker when you aren’t thinking about it, so he can’t contain his laughter.

John is used to your accent, but still finds it funny nonetheless. He doesn’t understand a lick of what you say in Italian, but he tries to guess by your tone.

“Vai a farti fottere, Dutch…” “You said what now??”

John is a little dense, so he doesn’t care much about the conversation for food but your family is very big on the food; you can’t help but follow in their footsteps and force John to try some when you’re able to make it.

That being said, there’s a lot of food you grew up with that he didn’t.

“What the hell is.. Spaghetti??”

“Lasagna?” — He complete pronounces it wrong as well, somehow….

When you first greeted him in such a.. personal way, he short-circuited. He didn’t know that you did not mean it in a flirty way until Arthur smacked him upside the head, teasing him. “Those wolves truly did eat all your brains huh, Marston??”

He never learns to speak your language, nor does he learn to understand it. Except when you swear- he knows what that means because I can imagine a lot of your anger is directed towards him when he does something stupid.

John is stupid and he teases you, but overall he enjoys when you embrace yourself.

Charles Smith

He, like the others, isn’t really too affected by your accent. Him and Javier are naturally more respectful to your traditions, your language, your foods.

Charles likes hearing your language. I can imagine he also has a problem, has a hard time grasping your language but it’s because of the environment you two remain to be in.

Like John, he begins to understand a lot of phrases. He learned a lot of Javier’s phrases as well. Charles can’t speak Italian, but he sure can understand you.. most of the time.

You have little patience for some people and it concerns him. Not your behavior, but he gets concerned for the people you get angry towards. (Except Micah.)

You two take some time to talk about dishes together and traditions. Due to how Charles was raised and how his childhood went, he isn’t the most educated on his own culture but he shares what he knows.

He takes the time to listen to your culture and traditions. Charles was shocked at your greetings, but he soon got used to it when you explained it to him. I can imagine you two spend a lot of time together, a unexplainable bond. As well as Javier.

After meeting Angelo Bronte, he joked that maybe you are also controlling Saint Denis. That’s when you explain the Mafia crime families that control different areas. (He’s concerned on how you know all of this, but he doesn’t question it.)

Javier Escuella

He is likely to have the least obvious reaction to your accent. Maybe a remark at first with a tease, but he knows how it is when someone makes it a big deal. Especially during these times.

Like Charles, you two get along pretty well. Surrounded by people who don’t speak your native language, who don’t share your culture and traditions, it’s pretty obvious why you and him flocked together; some sort of familiarity, even if you don’t share the same exact traditions (although they are similar).

Italian and Spanish are highly similar languages so I can imagine there’s some confusion surrounding some of the words. Your cultures are a bit similar which leads you to go down conversations of comparison and jokes about who’s is better.

Javier teases you a lot, purposely getting on your nerves. He knows when too much is too much, but in a way like John, he finds your anger funny.

He gets nervous when you get into it with Micah, but hearing your angry Italian after the fact is 100% worth it.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #john marston #fluff #arthur morgan x reader #javier escuella #charles smith #italian reader #headcanons #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 community

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themultifandomgal · 11 months

Text

John Shelby- In Heaven Together

This was a request over on Wattpad. It’s a sad one. I cried writing this because I miss John!

Christmas Day started out as any other Christmas for John, Esme and the kids. YN the eldest of Johns kids was woken up by the younger kids and the dog all jumping on her bed. Esme made breakfast, they opened presents. Ada had also been over the day before to drop off presents. However everything changed when a car pulled up outside of the house

"Dad there's a car outside" YN says looking at the black car that's just pulled up the drive

"Get away from the windows and take your siblings upstairs" being the eldest child of all of Johns children she obliges as she watches her dad pick the shotgun up. YN ushers her siblings up the stairs as John opens the door "oh it's you" this immediately settles the young girl "got nothing better to do on Christmas morning?"

"You lot go up I won't be long" she tells her siblings. Being the ever so curious YN Shelby, she takes a peek at who's here. Michael? Why's dads cousin here? She asks herself

"Tommy wants everyone at Charlie's yard"

"What's gonna happen it's fucking Christmas man"

"Look, John, we don't have time for this" Esme rushes out the door to Michael

"Tell Tommy Shelby, we can look after ourselves"

"Tommy says that they could come for us today"

"Tommy says, Tommy says. Are you his fucking parrot?"

"Dad who's coming for us?" YN asks moving from her hiding position

"It's the Mafia alright! It's the New York mafia we're talking about" Michael should not hearing YN. She stands next to her dad looking at him with worried eyes

"Dad?"

"We're fine YN. We're the peaky fucking blinders"

"No we're not John. We're not the Peaky fucking Blinders unless we're together"

"Dad Michaels scaring me"

"You were together in the gallows with one man missing"

"John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids" YN then starts to hear horse shoes getting closer

"Dad?" she says with a frown

"Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine"

"No. It's Christmas Day" Esme replies "were the family now, we're staying at home" that when YN notices a man jump from behind a hay bail

"Dad!" YN screams. Immediately John pushes YN behind him getting his gun ready

"Get in the fucking house!" he yells. Michael grabs hold of the young Shelby and pushes her away just as more men appear. Esme closed the door behind her as the sound of gunfire becomes deafening. YN holds on to her step mum as tears fall down both their faces.

As soon as the men have left Esme throws the door open, running to John. YN slowly makes her way out. She sees both her dad and Michael on the floor, blood pooling around both of them

"Dad? your just pretending aren't you? A game? Right dad?"

"YN, inside" Michael chokes out. Esme's screams could be heard from a mile away, but the 14 year old girl was stood frozen.Tommy was the first to the scene with Finn and Arthur not far behind

"YN?" Tommy slowly approaches his eldest niece, still staring at the scene in front of her, she barley notices her uncles until Tommy stands in front so to shield YN from her dads body "YN?" he says again. Realisation suddenly hitting her like a ton of bricks. She had now lost her dad. He will have joined her mum in heaven

"He's gone isn't he?" she gasps as tears now spill out of her eyes "my dads dead" tommy wraps his niece up in his arms while Arthur tends to Micheal

"Shhh I got you"

"Mums dead, dads dead. Why couldn't things go back to the way they were when we only had the betting shop? If they did dad wouldn't have died"

"We've always had enemies YN"

"But now I'm alone" she cries into Tommys chests

"Your not alone. I promise your not alone" he whispers into YNs hair. YN pulls away from Tommy and kneels by her dad

"I love you dad" YN whispers giving her dad one last kiss on the cheek and hug before Tommy pulls YN off when it's time to move the body

"John loved you too, was smitten the moment you arrived on this earth"

"At least mom and dad are in heaven together"

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby #john shelby imagine #John selby x daughter #John Shelby death #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n

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misspearly1 · 2 years

Text

Day Two: Thigh Riding - Arthur Morgan

Kinktober22 List

Part Two For This Story

WC: 3.5k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Jealously. Mutual Pining. POV switches. Arthur assumes the reader is a virgin (she isn't). Age gap. Thigh Riding + Praise Kink (Again with the praise kink, this ones on me - I can't help myself lmao). AN: This one right here was fun as hell to right. Missed our boy Arthur, enjoy my loves!

Why do I even bother? You question with your inner voice after overhearing Jenny and the guys’ conversation, feeling the sharp sting of that metaphorical knife stabbing you in the back. They were talking about a job, one that you found and shared in confidence with Jenny, but she now has stolen the idea from you and took all the credit for herself.

Walking away, more like stomping away, you fight the urge to scream like a little spoiled child upon hearing Jenny receive praise after praise from Dutch, Hosea and most importantly, Arthur.

If there is anyone in this camp that you’d like to hear a ‘good job’ from, then that person would be Mr. Morgan - the most feared, loyal, trusted and sexiest male member of the Van Der Linde Gang, and who happens to be your first, real, crush.

Three years ago, a fine talking fellow named Hosea Matthews came across you living in the streets with dirty clothes on your back and only a piece of lint in your pockets. Initially, you weren’t so willing to follow him back to his camp and trust his word that he’ll keep you safe, until he brought Susan Grimshaw and John Marston along.

When you look back on it now, it was the presence of another female that swayed you and boy are you glad that she was there to make you more trusting, otherwise you may have never joined the gang - joined the family. A couple of days under Susan's care is all it took for you to finally believe Hosea's word. You quickly settled in and found your place.

The following fortnight, Dutch and Arthur returned from their job and you fell for him instantly. Formal introductions were made of course, you had your first ten minute long speech from Dutch while Arthur made some jokes under his breath, which made you fall for him even more. His rugged good looks caught your attention first, then his humour, and lastly, his personality overall.

You liked Arthur right off the bat, there was no doubt about it, but you’ve kept that to yourself for the longest time and valued your growing bond with the man a whole lot more. He, just like the rest of the gang, welcomed you in with open arms and so many others too. In the very beginning it was just Hosea, Dutch and Arthur, but over time, more and more people joined.

Jenny however, is fairly new around here, therefore you think she stole your job to build a good rapport with the higher-ups and if it were any other occasion, you would just brush it off and give her this one, but it’s because of what the job requires that bothers you so much. You know that Arthur likes to dress up, to put on a ruse and get into character, and that’s exactly what you had planned to do with him tomorrow in some fancy saloon while someone else cracks the safe hidden away in the cellar.

You were so excited about this job because you know Arthur would have been so excited about it too. Just hearing Arthur, Hosea and Jenny laugh about how much they're going to fool people tomorrow night made you even more angry. That should be you going with them, not her, and you couldn’t stand to hear them talk about it any longer, hence why you’re now going to move even further away from camp.

Sitting on the edge isn’t far enough, you need a quiet and secluded spot to calm down in peace because all you feel like doing right now is either crying or yelling. Walking deeper into the woods, you could already feel a positive effect of the distance you were putting between you and Jenny. You felt better, relaxed, and it's exactly what you needed.

After approaching a clearing and finding a nice spot on the edge of a cliff, you sat down and dangled your legs over the side, basking in the warm night breeze. The sun disappeared just an hour ago, leaving a colourful gradient in the sky before darkness settles in.

You always enjoyed nature, enjoyed the peacefulness of it, the sound of birds chirping, trees blowing with the wind or a distant animal mating call, but not the sound of a twig snapping from someone's boot doing a terrible job at sneaking up on you. “Nice try, Arthur.” You snicker, knowing damn well that it is him behind you.

“Dammit woman.” Sighing, he slaps his thigh and totally abandons his attempt to sneak up on you. “How do ya do that?” He asks, then takes up the empty spot beside you, dangling his legs over the edge just like you were.

“I used to live on the streets, Arthur.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, then poke fun at him. “And besides, you’re not very good at sneaking up on people. It’s those darn feet of yours, they’re too big and heavy.”

“Ah, well, you know what they say about big feet, huh?” He retorts, nudging your side with a chuckle.

“What do you mean?” You shrug, playing innocent like a pro that works a charm on Arthur. It always does. Blushing red, he quickly stumbles through an explanation until you burst into a fit of giggles, striking the man with awareness. The sound of your amusement quickly brings him up to speed that you were just messing around, thus causing him to sigh relief before laughing about it too.

Arthur is older than you and he thinks you're innocent, but you’re not. The age gap between you and him is the reason why you won’t admit your crush besides lack of confidence. You’re in your early twenties, he is mid-way through his thirties and age gaps aren’t uncommon, but you notice the way Arthur looks at you compared to the other women in camp and it’s very different.

He probably thinks you’re naïve, gullible and…a virgin, but you’re none of those things. You’re no harlot, nor do you have any ill opinions of women who like to sleep around, but you do have experience and know enough about sex, however he, of course, doesn’t know that. And this is why you play innocent around Arthur, to get a laugh by making him uncomfortable.

It’s amusing, just light-hearted, humorous fun between friends, though you really wish he could see that you’re not so innocent after all because you shouldn’t pleasure yourself within the privacy of your tent thinking about your ‘friend’. You are actually sinful and scandalous, cumming on your own fingers multiple times a week just wishing that it was Arthur between your legs instead.

“What’s on your mind?” The man asks, and with impeccable timing too. Breaking the silence after spending too long thinking about your shameful activities in your tent, your cheeks now blossom a rosy red in colour, feeling like he could see directly into your mind. He couldn’t obviously, he’s just making conversation because you’re quiet, which is unusual for you.

“A few things, but I don’t wish to talk about them.” Answering his question, though sharing very little about what's on your mind, you turn to look at Arthur and smile. “I already know what your next question is going to be, and yes, I am okay - just needed a moment to myself.” You explain.

“Well…” He begins, but pauses immediately because you are right, he was about to ask if you were okay. You know him too well and answered that already, so instead, he takes a brief pause to think of something else, something that he’s sure will cheer you up. “Wanna play blackjack? I’ll throw in some money and make it more interesting for ya?” He suggests, hoping it will help with whatever is bothering you.

Arthur then relaxes his shoulders and softens with your bright beaming smile. You nod to him excitedly, then move away from the cliff edge to find a safer spot to lay the cards out. Following you to a nice spot by the treeline, he sits down on the grass with you and digs into his satchel for his cards. He’s always kept them close after learning how much you enjoy playing blackjack.

There’s a lot of little details about you that Arthur held onto; at first, he didn’t understand why he held onto those small details, until one day he passed a lily in the grass and instantly picked it up, thinking about how much you would like it - and that’s when it struck him that he was attracted to you. And still is.

Arthur remembered the very first time he met you, about how you wore a lily in your hair just above your ear and how beautiful you looked. Over time, his attraction has bloomed uncontrollably but there are too many factors preventing him from admitting his crush on you.

First and foremost, you’re ten years younger than he is, therefore you won’t even be interested in an older man like him, and secondly, you are too innocent and are most likely a virgin. He doesn’t care that you are, but he doesn’t see himself worthy of being your first.

There’s a long list of reasons why Arthur will never admit that he’s attracted to you, so instead, he will just be your friend, even though there is guilt residing in the pit of his stomach that grows each and every time he thinks about you late at night in his tent, hand wrapped around his cock, wishing it was your burning heat.

The man hates himself for fucking his fist while picturing you, but it’s the only thing that gives him relief. Nothing else works, not even other women. He’s tried and every single time, he hasn’t managed to take off his pants. In some weird, subconscious way, it’s like he’s saving himself for you - for you to just suddenly develop a crush on him, which will likely never happen.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask, breaking his silence after staring at his pack of cards for too long. “Do we both have a few things bothering us tonight?” You laugh, assuming his moment of deep thinking as a simple trance. Arthur chuckles with you, laughing it off as nothing, but wishes he could tell you everything.

“Alright, we ready?” Asking rhetorically, he knows you're ready because you sat before him with your hands held out waiting for him to dish the cards, but you nod nonetheless and he begins serving.

After seeing you cross your fingers, his heart beats a little faster with a warmth spreading across his chest, and he, too, is crossing his fingers on the inside, hoping that you win. The money Arthur put down was a fifty dollar bill fold and even if you don’t win, he would just give you it anyways. Starting off strong with a total of fifteen, Arthur waits for your call and when you ask for a hit, the next card he lays out for you is a Jack, which now tally's your cards up to twenty-five, therefore it's a bust.

“God dammit.” You tut while shaking your head, the image making him smile. You get so invested with Blackjack, not with money, but with your own belief in luck and he thinks it’s cute when you get frustrated. You're a smart girl not to play with money, but he has enough to share and doesn’t mind waiting around until you win.

However, after going bust another two times, you dig into the pockets on your skirt and lay down a couple dollars beside his fold of bills. “This is the one. I know it.” You say to him with a sure tone of voice. Arthur then tilts his head, narrowing his eyes playfully as he asks. “Are you sure now, girl? What did I tell ya about Blackjack?”

“That if you don't win the first time, fuck the game and steal the money?” You retort, making the man laugh as he shakes his head. “No, not that, the other thing I told you.” Laughing with him, you nod and answer properly this time. “Don’t mix up belief with desperation, otherwise you will lose every single time.”

“That’s right, good girl.” Arthur nods, pausing before he dishes out your next set of cards. “I’ll ask one more time, are you sure sweetheart?”

“Um - yes, I'm sure.” You whisper with a look of uncertainty on your face. Arthur knows a couple of dollar bills won’t be a big loss for you, but he doesn’t want you getting a taste for gambling and becoming addicted like he has done in the past many times now. You don’t look too convinced that you’re going to win. You just keep fidgeting with your hands, moving around as if you were uncomfortable and staring up into his eyes while anxiously biting your lip.

“Cross your fingers, darlin’.” Arthur requests and when you do, he begins dishing out the cards with a hopeful wish in mind. Your first card is a seven, the second is a queen and the third is still in the deck, waiting for your call. Looking at him with big doe eyes, the man’s heart melts as he nods, believing that it’s going to be a win and that you should take a chance.

“Hit.” You say softly while biting your lip again, but this time with a smile. Your call for another card brings out a four, making the total land on a perfect twenty-one. “Holy shit!” Gasping loudly, you hold a hand over your mouth and muffle your screams of joy. Arthur barks out a few belly laughs, hearty and deep, a victorious laugh for you when suddenly, you lunge across and wrap your arms around his neck. “Arthur! I fucking won! Omg! I actually won! Can you believe it?" You babbled excitedly.

“I sure can.” He replies, dropping the cards to wrap his arms around your lower back with a congratulating squeeze. “You’re a damn lucky girl, sweetheart. Good job.”

Upon feeling your body slump with a heavy sigh, Arthur worries over your silence and duration of your hug. You’ve hugged him plenty of times before, but nothing like this. It feels like you needed it, like your muscles relaxed and your tensions slowly disappeared. “Are ya okay, there?” He questions, rubbing a hand up and down your back reassuringly.

“Mhm.” You nod into his neck, then hold him a little tighter, as if telling him to not let go just yet. Arthur didn’t know what is bothering you so much tonight that makes you need this hug, but he’s more than willing to provide it for you - only you. “C’mere sweetheart.” Tutting after hearing you sniffle, he pulls you closer to sit on his lap and cups the back of your head. “I didn’t wanna ask earlier, but I am now - what's bothering ya?”

Silence. Silence is what you gave him while shaking your head into his neck. You still don’t want to talk about it, and he won’t pry it out of you, but Arthur can’t help thinking of the worst. Who? Is what he asks himself. Who has hurt you?

The man can’t even stand to think that’s what’s wrong and that thought alone was enough for him to hold you tighter, burying his chin in your neck with a soothing shush against your skin, however when he readjusts his legs beneath you, the sound he hears next isn't what he was expecting. You moaned.

Softly and quietly, you moaned into his neck and he felt you clenching around nothing directly above his thigh. You still were clenching around nothing, he could feel your heat pulsing and it was making a part of him twitch. “Um… Y/N.” Arthur manages to clear his throat then thinks about what he can say to get you off his lap before he embarrasses himself, but you shake your head again, this time with a plea in your whisper. “Just a little longer. Please?”

“I-” He gulps, still feeling your warmth pulse above his thigh as you very, very carefully move your hips. Arthur would have been none the wiser if he did not clearly understand that you were feeling something pleasurable right now. He would have been oblivious if he couldn’t feel you clenching. You’re not sad - you’re aroused. Your sniffles are muffled, struggling breaths of air as you fight back your moans and you’re getting yourself off on his leg.

“Darlin’, I don’t think you understand what you’re doing.” He tries to reason, to make sense of what you’re doing right now, but you cup the side of his face, fingers threading through his hair to grip the base of his neck with desperation. Your breathing became ragged now, your hips doing a lousy job at being subtle, but then… then you pulled your head back to look him in the eyes, and oh those pretty big doe eyes were glossy with lusty tears, not tears of sadness.

“I do understand.” You whimper, fully whimper right in front of his face and press your forehead to his. “It’s you that doesn’t understand, Arthur.”

“Jesus, don’t… don’t say shit ya don’t mean, sweetheart.” Arthur fights the strangled moan stuck in his throat, knowing damn well that he is one mistake away from losing your friendship all together, however you persist with a desperate plea. “I need you.”

Taking his hands and lowering them to your ass, he gasps from the action and shakes his head, still not believing himself worthy of taking your purity and innocence, until you wipe out his doubts completely. “Arthur, I’m not a virgin.” You blurt.

“What?” He chokes, mouth falling open with surprise. He couldn't believe it at first, couldn't believe what you were telling him, though the moment was short lived as he suddenly became aware of every little detail he overlooked.

He was struck with a thousand memories of you and him in the past, where he now realizes it wasn’t innocent behaviour on your behalf, it was him assuming you were innocent and naïve when you were actually teasing him. All this time, Arthur had held himself back, believing you were a virgin, believing that you were just his friend, joking and messing around when it was actually flirting. Arthur realizes now, and he acts on it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, puffing a heavy wanton breath of air across your face. He then grabs your hips with a bruising grip and drags you across his thigh, drawing out a pornographic moan from deep within your stomach. “Oh, Arthur. Yes, just like that.” Your reassurance pleases the man, pushes him to provide more pleasure.

Bending his knee a little and causing you to lean into him, he digs the heel of his boot into the earth and watches you roll your hips back and forth, using the friction of his jean clad thigh to stimulate your most sensitive area.

Arthur tore his eyes away from your face momentarily and looks down to see a dampness beginning to form on his thigh. She must be soaked through, he thinks then looks back into your eyes, the irises expanding with ecstasy at your sexy torn expression.

“Arthur, I'm close.” You sob. Grabbing onto his muscular biceps to steady yourself, he fought the urge to move, fearing it would mess with your focus and ruin your orgasm. Instead, he opted to watch; watch and weep with bliss as you tipple over the edge and fall into the pools of euphoria, making the man groan with his own release just watching you unfold.

Your pretty face contorts, brows pulling together with your gorgeous eyes struggling to stay open. Little whimpers and mewls slipping from your lips, your fingers dig into the flesh around his arm and your cunt squeezes tightly around nothing when suddenly, you stop moving all together. Arching your back with a ragged inhale, you breath out a long, satisfied moan of his name then slowly rotate your hips, stimulating yourself through your high.

“Hm, that’s it darlin’.” He speaks with praise, cupping the side of your face while dragging his thumb across your beautiful lips. Lips that he's wanted to kiss for so many moons now. “Good girl.” He whispers, causing you to open your eyes to look at him, then open your mouth and take his thumb inside, humming contentedly like it felt good. It made Arthur’s whole-body shudder with desire, seeing you act so corrupt and provocative with his thumb in your mouth when it was only moments ago, he believed you had never been with a man before.

No longer did he feel that ball of guilt in his stomach for taking himself in hand many times while thinking about you, instead it was replaced with a raging fireball of primal instincts to bury his cock inside of your warmth, just like he’s dreamed to do. You look down to his pants, noticing the damp spot you created and the damp spot he had created in the crotch area. He came too, came with you, but if you thought Arthur Morgan was done, then you are sorely mistaken.

Pulling back the waistband of his pants, he frees his cock from the confines of his clothes and wraps his fingers around the base, pumping twice. Your reaction to seeing his size for the very first time makes his chest swell with anticipation. You practically drooled at the sight of him, bushy, long and girthy with a sizable set of balls. You wanted to touch him, pleasure him, take him inside and squeeze so tight as you climax again, and again, and again - just like you've dreamed to.

Arthur didn’t need to see into your mind to know what you were thinking about, he could see it clearly written all over your face, however he’s far from done with you quiet yet. “Again.” He commands, lifting his leg as a signal for you to move while he begins jerking himself off.

“Be a good girl and ride my thigh again, Y/N.”

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