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twola · 11 months

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I’m back! After a road trip and some time off, here’s another little smut piece for you. I am also still working on requests, if you have one in!

Cleanliness and Godliness

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

One can’t write Arthur smut without using the overdone bathtub trope.

taglist: @pinkiemme

“Jesus Christ, Arthur.” You look at him with a pained expression - and he sheepishly stands in front of you in the alley - covered in mud, blood, and god knows what else.

The sweet smells and sights of Valentine after market day, of course. The sun had begun to set over the peaks of West Elizabeth in the distance.

“Ain’t me who started it.” The outlaw grumbles, taking his worn leather hat from his head and shaking flakes of drying mud off of it before slapping it back onto his head.

You cringe in disgust, seeing that he did not do a thorough job of cleaning the hat.

“C’mon. Let's get you a bath over at Saints.” You sigh, hitching up your skirts as you walk past him into the muddy street, stepping toward the one hotel in this cowtown the gang has stumbled into.

“Woman-”

“No. Don’t you woman me, Mister Morgan.” You turn around, dropping one side of your skirt and pointing at him with your finger, “You’re covered in horse shit. Take a damn bath. I don’t want you anywhere near me til you do.”

The man frowns, and you cross your arms over your chest with a loud humph. There’s even mud in his beard - his hair, everywhere.

“You go take a bath and I’ll get us a room tonight. How’s that for a proposition?” You say, tapping on the ground impatiently with your foot.

A smile starts to appear on his dirty face.

“A room, y’say?” He steps closer to you, at which you very quickly pedal backward before he can grab you.

“After,” you raise and lower your finger at his frame, “You go and clean yourself up. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You smile as you turn and gather your skirts from the muddy street and make your way to the hotel.

Arthur was a man of the outdoors. Riding and sleeping under the stars. Civilization be damned.

But he was not going to complain about how good this bath felt, water steaming hot, his muscles relaxing after a fight, his weary bones finally at rest.

He ran his bruised knuckles through the hot water, wincing slightly as the water burns a small spot of broken skin. Arthur was able to steal a glimpse of his face before stepping into the tub - his three-day-old beard was unable to hide the darkening bruise along his jaw.

The bastard got lucky with a swing, that was all.

The latch of the door slowly unlocks, and Arthur sits up in the bath, torn from his thoughts.

“Y’need some help in there?” A soft voice calls through the crack in the door.

He smiles, reclining again.

“Hmm, maybe.”

The door opens and a female figure slides in. You stand there with a playful smile on your face as Arthur greets you with one of his own.

“I don’t remember payin’ no wash girl.” Arthur drawls, turning his head toward you, a lazy, relaxed smile on his face as he leans back in the tub.

You close the door behind you quietly.

“On the house, Mister.” You smile at him as you start to unbutton your blouse, “Want me to give you the whole experience?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow, nodding dumbly as he sits up in the tub. You smile back at him, heart warmed, as you step closer to the tub.

Buttons thread through eyelets in the steamy room as your skin is bared to him, stripping your blouse and dropping it to the floor. Your chemise leaves little of your chest to the imagination, gauzy in the candlelight. The drapes on the windows are partially drawn, leaving the room in a dim hush.

“You sure are handsome, mister.” You laugh as you sit on the rim of the large iron tub, one of your hands landing on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. Your thumb works in a circle over his shoulder blade and he hums in appreciation.

“Then you must get some ugly fellers comin’ in here.”

You frown lightly before reaching down into the water and checking its temperature.

“Lemme get you cleaned up.”

You gather suds in your hand and stand up, leaning over the tub and him to reach his arm on the opposite side of you. Rubbing gently at his skin, you snicker to yourself as you notice where his gaze has settled: directly in front of him, where your chemise top hangs low and your breasts sway gently with your movements.

Arthur’s hand raises from the water, his fingers grasping at the lace trim of your chemise and slowly pulling it down as you lean over him, your breath stuttering slightly as the fabric brushes over your nipples before he frees one breast to the open air, only inches from his face.

You’ve stopped bathing him, your hand bracing yourself on the side of the tub as you lean over it, gooseflesh breaking out over your skin, even with the warmth of the steaming water beneath you.

Arthur looks up at you, for one moment, his fingers still on your chemise, wetness spreading out over the cotton and lace.

You’re throbbing between your thighs, wanting to lean further and press your sensitive nipple to his mouth - your breathing getting faster as he pulls at the neckline again, your other breast freed from the fabric.

He leans forward and blessedly takes one of your hardening, pebbled nipples into his mouth and sucks it with a gentle pull from his lips. His hand moves to the other breast, kneading it slowly alongside his slow suckles.

You cannot help but to whine aloud as you feel his tongue lave around your peaked skin, his rough and calloused fingers enclosing on the opposite one, gently squeezing to replicate the pressure of his mouth on your skin.

The water in the tub sloshes as he sits up further, pressing his face into your breasts even more as his other hand begins to work himself under the surface. You moan aloud as you steal a look over your shoulder, the soap-covered surface of the water breaking and you can see his hand stroking up and down his hardening length.

Your bloomers are damp as the fabric clings to your skin, the hand closest to you moving to press your fingers against yourself through layers of fabric, moaning needily aloud as Arthur sucks hard on your breast.

He’s panting underneath you, pulling away from your breast as his eyes trace your arm down to where you press against yourself fervently.

“Christ - get in here before I pull you in -” he rumbles out as he yanks your chemise up from your skirt, untucking it as you pull away and stand next to the tub. You quickly shuck it from your frame, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the floor as Arthur gazed upon your chest, your nipple damp and shiny with his saliva as you begin to untie your skirts.

You look up from untying your skirts to see Arthur laying back in the tub, languidly stroking his cock in the water, eyes trained on you, gaze unblinking. His mouth hangs open as he pants, and god, if he isn’t the most beautiful sight you’ve seen.

Finally, the knots are untied and you let the skirts pool at your feet, slipping your shoes off as your fingers dip into the waistband of your bloomers. You push them downwards, revealing to his hungry eyes the curve of your ilium, the starting of the dark thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs, until finally, those too pool at your feet.

He smiles up at you, the wonderful man, bruised cheek and all, and takes his hand from his cock to reach toward you, the warm bath water tracing down your skin as his thumb gently glides along your hip.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You lean back over the tub to take his lips with yours, smiling into the kiss, before drawing back and lifting one of your legs to climb into the tub. His hands immediately clamp to your waist to pull you in, and with little further movement from you, you’re straddling him in the tub, lowering yourself into the warm water and settling astride his hips.

Both of your hands float southward, grasping his cock and he hisses in pleasure, his hips jutting upward in the tub against yours.

You raise up on your knees again, holding the base of his cock with one hand, while the other moves up his chest to his bruised cheek.

“You’re so handsome, even with half your face black and blue.” You whisper playfully into his lips before kissing him deeply.

He grunts back against you, “May wanna get your eyesight checked.”

You pout again for a moment, biting your tongue as the thought flees your mind. Arthur is slowly, gently pulling your hips down onto him. You take the hint and press your hips downward.

“Oh, oh-”, you whine as you lower yourself onto him, his cock carving out that space in you that you always long to have filled, “God, Arthur, you're so good.”

Your hands fly to the lip of the tub behind his head as he pulls you down all the way, the stretch of him always painfully sweet.

“You’re the o-only one I want.” You gasp as you bottom out, your rear landing on his thigh.

“Terrible judgment you’ve got there.” Arthur laves his tongue across your earlobe with his hands spread over your hips as you move yours to his shoulders.

“I love you.” You whine against his temple as you roll your hips once, and the groan of pleasure that escapes his lips is the only reply he can give for several moments.

The sound of water sloshing fills the room alongside heavy panting and barely concealed moans.

“Christ, woman-” Arthur juts his hips upward, turning his head inward to catch your earlobe again, “I love you so damn much.” He groans into your ear and you mewl, leaning backward to take more of him.

His lips return to your breast, sucking at your nipple as you roll your hips over his in the tub, both of his hands sure on your waist, aiding in your movement. You whine as you feel him start to buck his hips up in time, meeting you with thrusts that force him deeper, deeper into your tight cunt.

“Arthur-” You cry out, head falling back as you come, muscles seizing and cunt clenching hard around him. He grunts in response and continues thrusting up into you, his mouth hanging open as the water sloshes up the side of the tub.

You’re coming down from your high when you return to him, gasping like a fish out of water as he fucks up into you, your forehead pressing against his as your fingers curl around the lip of the tub again.

His teeth grit, trying to suppress a moan as his powerful arms move you, pulling your hips up and off of him as he closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose, and looking at the reddening of his chest and the noises he’s trying to stifle, you know he’s coming in the warm water.

He comes down from his high panting, cheeks and chest flushed from both exertion and the bath water. You press your forehead against his and smile, breathing heavily yourself.

Your hands move from the lip of the tub to cup his cheeks, and you lean down once again to press your lips to his, which he heartily accepts. Your tongues press against each other sweetly, his arms tight around your waist. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Unless…

“You need some help in there, mister?”

Normally, the girls have the sense to wait for a response, but for god knows what reason, this one simply unlatches the door and begins to step in.

“Oh!” The girl’s eyes widen as you move to cover your breasts, crying out as Arthur sits up and draws you into his embrace, one hand around your back and the other tucking you into his shoulder.

“No- no, ‘m fine.” Arthur grits out, trying to move to cover you decently.

After a moment of recovery, the bath girl groans and rolls her eyes, pulling the door shut as she grumbles under her breath.

“Ain’t they supposed to wait until you tell them to come in?” You grit into his shoulder, arms still wrapped around your chest, as you sit up, warily eyeing the door.

Arthur shrugs, one finger moving under your chin and pulling you back toward him.

“Well, we know she ain’t coming back anytime soon.”

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

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cowboydisaster · 5 months

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I have a prompt idea if you're still looking for some! How about the reader finding and taking an itty bitty kitten that was orphaned and Arthur's real grumpy about it at first but then she finds him asleep on the couch with the kitten curled up on his chest and he's got a hand over it protectively or something. I know that's not really Christmas-y, but I thought it would be cute! Looking forward to all your writings as always 🥰

* ˚ ✦ Moonlight * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 1k

a/n: Sorry this was late, it's been a madhouse around here. Anyways, i love this prompt and it makes me want a house cat SO bad. i also love grumpy arthur and if you couldn't tell already, domesticity is my roman empire rn.

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: THREE days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

“No.” Arthur growls, voice stern, resolve set. Your eyes are as big as dinner plates as you continue pleading and begging. Your lip juts out, even, testing his patience, shaking his resolve. Arthur is notoriously bad at telling you no. When you’d asked for a second baby, he’d willingly agreed. When you’d asked for the house, and the farm, he’d made it happen for you. But this?

“Please, Arthur… Where else is he supposed to go?” You whisper so as not to wake the baby, sleeping soundly in her bassinet.

“I don’t give a damn. Not here.” Arthur grumbles, placing his tools from work on the table. You follow him around the kitchen like a shadow as he opens and closes cupboards and drawers, putting away all his items from the day.

Arthur is pointedly trying not to look at the little black ball of fur nestled in your arms. He’s afraid that if he catches a glimpse of those big, sad eyes, he’ll agree with you, and he’ll have an extra mouth to feed.

“Where’d you find it, anyways?” Arthur says, turning, sighing as you push the teeny kitten up towards his face, holding it under its little armpits.

“I found him stranded on the road back from the market. Look at him, Arthur. He’s not well. We’ll have to feed him.” You plead. Arthur’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he stops and turns around. You nearly run into his back, stopping just in time.

Arthur gets a good glimpse at the little feller then. He’s just a little cat, probably only a few months old. He’s far too skinny, and his jet black coat is ruffled and dirty from the elements. You hold the cat out to show Arthur, and then he sees the little, white, crescent-shaped mark that adorns his forehead, right between his blue eyes. Arthur releases the bridge of his nose, sighing grumpily. When his eyes crack open, and he sees your pleading face, perfectly matching the cat’s expression, he gives up.

“Goddammit, fine. Jus’ throw him in the spare room, n’ I’ll find him some fish or somethin’.” Arthur says, rather dramatically, in your opinion. You hold the kitten close to your chest, your spare arm wrapping around the man’s neck.

“Oh, thank you, Arthur!!” You smile, kissing him quickly before popping down from your tiptoes.

“Yeah, well don’t get all cheery just yet. We’re tossin’ him back out in the snow as soon as he’s good and healthy.”

— — —

The rocking chair swings back and forth quietly. Your hand gently taps your daughter’s back, and you hum quietly. She’d woken you and Arthur up in a fit, hungry, raising her little fists into the air and giving you both hell. But now, her little belly is full, and a peaceful silence has fallen over the house once more. The moonlight streaking through the windows tells you that it’s early morning, and you sigh at another night’s lack of sleep.

“Easy, baby.” You whisper, quietly and slowly standing from the rocking chair, swaying her in your arms until you reach her bassinet.

“Good night, my sweet girl.” You whisper sweetly, pressing a kiss to her little forehead, brushing some peach fuzz out of her face.

You push the nursery door open quietly, eager to find your place next to Arthur in bed again. But a few steps down the hall, you stop in your tracks, a familiar voice coming from the living room.

“Yeah, well you’re a right bastard, y’know that?” Arthur whispers, and you suppress a laugh, peeking around the corner.

Arthur is sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. Laying on his chest, nuzzled against his thick arm, is the little kitten. He purrs loudly, eyes closed, awfully content in your husband’s arms. Your heart melts in its cavern at the sight, and you watch the scene play out with bright eyes.

“The lady is puttin’ the lil’ one back to bed, I figure I might as well do somethin’. So, make no mistakes, partner. We ain’t friends.” He whispers to the kitten, but contrary to his harsh words, Arthur’s finger scratches gently behind the kitten’s ear, pulling deep rumbles and purrs from the little animal. A few moments go by with Arthur’s hand resting protectively on the little cat.

“Y’know, you are kinda cute… But don’t tell the missus I said that. I don’t want her thinkin’ I’ve gone soft.”

You suppress a chuckle.

“I reckon we should call you Moon… cause you got a little one right between them big eyes.” Arthur hums, eyelids growing heavy the longer he rests on the couch. You clear your throat gently, making him aware of your presence before stepping into the living room.

“Didn’t see you there.” Arthur says, sitting straight on the couch, cheeks tinted pink.

“She’s asleep.” You smile, “I see you’re making friends.”

Arthur exhales sharply, a huff of a laugh, “Me and the cat? Nah, he uh– he wouldn’t stop hollerin’ so I tried holdin’ him.” Arthur excuses, hand still wrapped protectively around the sleeping animal.

“Right.” You raise an eyebrow, “You comin’ back to bed, then?”

Arthur hesitates, looking up at you, then down to Moon.

“I’ll be in shortly, sweetheart. Just gonna stay out here a little longer with him so he doesn’t go wakin’ you or the kids up.”

You smirk, “Alright then, Arthur.”

A kiss is planted to his lips before you head to the bedroom, and he sinks back down on the couch with Moon tucked into his arm.

Five minutes turn to ten, and ten to thirty. And when you wake up to start breakfast, your husband is still cuddled up on the couch. Snores fall from his lips, matching the time of little content purrs coming from Moon, sleeping in a little ball right on Arthur’s chest. So much for not giving a damn. You chuckle to yourself.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445 [to be added or removed, shoot me an ask! :)]

#divider by cafekitsune #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom

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metamorphesque · 6 months

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you seem to know an awful lot about poetry,, think you can help me out?

i remember a while ago i read a heartwrenching poem of a young women recovering from suicide when she asks her father for a specific fruit that was out of season in their particular region, so he drives across state lines to acquire it.

its been bugging me all day sorry if this is random

It's from "Cherry" by Mary Karr

When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all? All you can imagine putting in your mouth is a cold plum, one with really tight skin on the outside but gum-shocking sweetness inside. And he and your mother discuss where he might find some this late in the season. Mother says hell I don’t know. Further north, I’d guess. The next morning, you wake up in your bed and sit up. Mother says, Pete, I think she’s up. He hollers in, You ready for breakfast, Pokey. Then he comes in grinning, still in his work clothes from the night before. He’s holding a farm bushel. The plums he empties onto the bed river toward you through folds in the quilt. If you stacked them up, they’d fill the deepest bin at the Piggly Wiggly. Damned if I didn’t get the urge to drive to Arkansas last night, he says. Your mother stands behind him saying he’s pure USDA crazy. Fort Smith, Arkansas. Found a roadside stand out there with a feller selling plums. And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She’s got a hanker for plums and ain’t nothing else gonna do. It’s when you sink your teeth into the plum that you make a promise. The skin is still warm from riding in the sun in Daddy’s truck, and the nectar runs down your chin. And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.

#asks #this one always gets to me

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woman-of-balnain · 1 year

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Bold as Love Part 2 (Arthur x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 | Masterlist | A03 Ver.

Summary: A requested part 2, where the Reader gets back at Arthur for making her jealous.

A/N: @anyas-stuff, I hope it's okay. I wasn't sure if I was making him too dominant, and then later if he wasn't dominant enough lol 😅 Please let me know if you aren't happy with any of it and I'll edit it to your liking.

Warnings: Possessive Arthur, jealous Arthur, dominant Arthur, reader flirting with some random guy lol, Arthur punching and threatening said guy, swearing/cursing, smut, unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, no use of Reader's name/Y/N etc.

Word Count: 3,409

Divider by: cafekitsune

You were treading into dangerous waters as you flirted with the handsome man you’d spotted while in the Bastille Saloon. Arthur had noticed that you were still annoyed with him for going off to see Mary, so he’d taken you out of camp for the night, planning for you both to spend some time alone together in Saint Denis. But the saloon was filled with people, meaning Arthur had to work harder than usual to get the bartender’s attention.

That had given you the perfect opportunity to get back at him. All it took was spotting this attractive stranger - who was clearly interested in you - from across the room. You had made your way over to him, struck up a lascivious conversation and now you were seated in his lap, toying with him and waiting for Arthur to notice.

You played with the collar of the man’s jacket, while his hand disappeared under your skirt, trailing up the bare skin of your leg. You hoped Arthur would realize soon, before things got to a point where backing out would cause a scene.

“How ‘bout we find somewhere more private, beautiful?” The man spoke deeply, right by your ear.

You tried to think of a way to stall him. He was attractive, sure, but you had no real interest in him other than to incite Arthur’s jealousy.

“This feller botherin’ you darlin’?”

Speak of the devil.

You tried to hide your smirk, not wanting to give yourself away as you turned your head to regard him.

“No,” you replied simply. “We’re just talking.”

Arthur looked absolutely livid, and his gaze only hardened even further as the man snaked his other arm around your waist.

“Yeah, back off mister,” the man told Arthur, not seeming to realize that he knew you, let alone that you were together. “I saw her first, so I’m havin’ her first. You can do what you want with her after that.”

You tensed at his words, disgusted by the way he talked about you like you were just some shiny new toy that he got the first dibs on playing with. But you barely had time to truly react, because Arthur seemed to like it even less. He moved with lightning speed, pulling you away from the other man right before he brought his fist back and then slammed it into the bastard’s face.

“I best not hear you talk about her like that again,” Arthur warned him lowly, seething with anger. “’Cause if I do, I’ll do worse than just breakin’ your nose.”

Your heart pounded with excitement as Arthur took hold of your wrist and you got one final look at the blood pouring down the man’s face before you were being pulled up the stairs and towards the hotel room Arthur had booked. You let out a startled gasp as your back was pushed against the wall of the room after you entered it.

Arthur’s gaze was dark with both anger and possessive desire. You couldn’t stop the small smirk that played across your lips, as you realized that you had successfully brought out his jealousy.

“Did you forget you’re mine, darlin’?” He asked in that deep and gruff tone of his.

He was pressed right up against you, his eyes heated as one of his hands moved to your collarbone. Arthur’s fingertips brushed over your skin, teasing in the way that he was barely touching you, but providing just enough contact to leave you wanting more.

“Are you jealous?” You asked him playfully, attempting to mask the way his touch always got to you.

“He had his hand up your skirt,” Arthur practically growled out. “I’m the only one who gets to touch you like that.”

His answer only confirmed your suggestion, even though he didn’t outright admit it. You reveled in the raw possessiveness that you found in his gaze, feeling yourself already becoming wet with anticipation. You tried to bite back a moan as Arthur began hiking up your skirt until your bare legs were revealed.

“Where did he touch you?” Arthur’s fingertips trailed softly over your knee. “Here?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded slowly, eyelids drooping slightly as you bit down on your bottom lip in open desire.

“What about here?” He moved his hand further up your thigh.

“Yes.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed with annoyance, but his touch kept travelling further upwards until he reached the very top.

“You better not have let him touch you here, darlin’,” Arthur warned you lowly, his hand cupping your now dripping wet pussy.

“What if I did?”

“I’ll go back down there and kill the son of a bitch.”

You should have found that to be a turnoff and you should have felt shame due to the fact that it only filled you with more desire for your man. But you felt neither of those things and your pussy just got wetter at the possessive fury Arthur was exhibiting.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare tell me you’re this wet for anyone but me.”

“What? I’m not allowed to have a little fun with someone else?”

You were referring to him going off to see Mary, of course. The number of times your mind had tortured you with imagined images of what the two of them might have got up to in that dark theatre left you rightfully angry.

Yet, you realized with satisfaction that Mary seemed to be furthest thing from Arthur’s mind in that moment. He didn’t seem to pick up on your insinuation and instead he just seemed to get angrier at the idea of you wanting any man who wasn’t him.

“You’re mine,” he reminded you again. “And you’re gonna prove it to me.”

Your eyebrows raised in question, but he didn’t give you time to think over and guess at what he might mean. Arthur took hold of your wrist again, pulling you over to the bed and unceremoniously pushing you down onto it. Then, his hands were on you, unfastening the belt around your waist, which kept your skirt up.

You were quick to work on removing your blouse as well, flinging it off to the side at the same time Arthur pulled the skirt down your legs. Once you were naked before him, he took a moment to eye you up and down with open lust before his gaze hardened again.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

“Or what?” You challenged. You were still unwilling to give in, partly out of pride and partly because you wanted to see how far you could push him and just how possessive and dominant he could get.

“Don’t make me ask again, darlin’,” he warned. “Or it’ll be ten instead of five and I’ll keep goin’ up ‘til you listen.”

Ten what? You wondered.

You did as he said though, turning around until your stomach was pressed against the bed.

“Lift up your hips,” he continued instructing you.

You lifted them up, resulting in your ass being presented to him.

“That’s it,” he praised. “My good girl.”

You felt the coarseness of his calloused hands smoothing over your exposed ass, his fingertips trailing over the naked skin before he squeezed down appreciatively. Then, he moved his touch down to your dripping folds, stroking along the slit of your pussy and then up to your clit, causing your legs to shake with need.

“That feel good, darlin’?”

“Mmm,” you couldn’t form any words as your body became desperate for more.

“What was that?” Arthur teased you by pulling his hand away. “Tell me.”

“It feels good,” you moaned out, pushing your hips up even further in an attempt to have him touch you again.

“What does?”

“You…” the reply was breathless and filled with desire. “Touching me.”

“Good girl,” you could practically hear the smirk he must’ve had. “Just my touch, right darlin’?”

You managed to regain some of your stubbornness now that he had relinquished his touch, so you bit back a little.

“Maybe…”

Yet, you were surprised when Arthur didn’t verbally respond straight away, and the only thing you could hear was the sound of him removing his gun belt. You went to turn your head and look at him, but Arthur was quick to give you another order.

“Eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You did as he said, waiting with anticipation as you heard him place the belt on the dresser before the sound of clothes rustling filled the room. Then, Arthur’s body was bending down over yours, pressing against you until his lips were right by your ear. You realized that he had stripped as you felt his hardened length against your lower back.

“I want you to count for me gorgeous,” his deep and gravelly voice spoke into your ear. “Can you do that for me?”

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“You’ll know when to start,” was all he said in response.

Then Arthur was pulling back, and you expected to feel his cock thrusting into you fast and hard. You were aching to have him filling you up, deep inside. But you weren’t expecting to feel the forceful and sharp slap of his hand against your ass. A shocked sound – something between a moan and gasp – escaped your lips.

“I told you to count, darlin’,” he reminded you. “If you forget, this’ll just take longer.”

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned out, realizing that he was going to make you endure this at least another four times.

The sharp sting of his hand against your skin was shocking and gave you just the slightest twinge of pain, but it also made your pussy even more wet and needy for him.

“You got a dirty mouth, gorgeous,” he chuckled darkly. “But that ain’t what I wanna hear right now.”

He spanked his hand down again, his free one holding your hip to steady you.

“T-two,” you got out.

“No, sweetheart, that was one.”

You groaned, realizing that he was serious about drawing it out even longer if you lost count.

“One,” you corrected yourself, your pussy clamping down on nothing as you yearned to have him just fuck you already.

“Good girl,” he praised, squeezing down on your hip.

“Oh, Christ! Two…”

He had brought his hand down again and the sweet mix between pain and pleasure was already too much to bear.

“Look at you darlin’,” Arthur admired the sight of you. “Your pussy is soaked. Is this turning you on?”

“Please, Arthur,” you begged, noting how he had stopped. “I need you inside me.”

“You sure?” He asked, making you frown.

“Of course, I’m sure!”

“You don’t want that feller downstairs?”

“No,” you insisted. “I just wanted to get back at you… Make you jealous too…”

“Oh darlin’, I ain’t jealous,” Arthur told you lowly. “I am god damned furious.”

He brought his hand down again, a little harder this time and you scrambled to get out the word ‘three’.

“You’re mine,” he said yet again. “All mine.”

Your only response was another deep and desperate moan, so he did it another time, forcing you to continue counting.

“Say it, darlin’,” he coaxed you, his fingers soothing your skin by tracing lightly over where he had been spanking you.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out. “Just yours.”

Then you were crying out in euphoric bliss as he pulled back and finally thrust into you, deep and hard.

“Don’t forget it sweetheart,” Arthur warned you. “You do that again, and I won’t leave the bastard alive.”

Your hands balled into fists, clutching tightly at the sheets as he continued to pound into you.

“Your body is attuned to mine,” he grit out, quickly becoming lost in his own sense of desire. “You think another man can make you feel like this?”

“No,” you breathed out, knowing he was right.

He didn’t even have to touch you. Just one heated look, or the way his voice deepened and got rougher with arousal was enough to make your body yearn for him.

“Shit, darlin’,” he groaned, finally giving away just how badly he needed you too. “You’re always so tight around me.”

Arthur faltered just briefly, taking a second to enjoy the way your pussy wrapped around him so snugly, before he pulled all the way out and then slammed back in again. Your entire body seemed to thrust forward from the force of it and you could no longer hold back the constant and eager sounds that left you.

“That’s it,” Arthur encouraged you huskily. “Don’t hold back, darlin’. I want everyone here to know what I do to you.”

You bent your head down, letting it rest against the bed as the feel of his velvety but rock-hard length against your walls brought you closer and closer to the edge. You were so wrapped up in the fact that he was finally deep inside of you, that when his hand slapped your ass again, gentler this time, you almost forgot his earlier instructions. But you managed to moan out the number ‘five’ in time and then his hands were on your hips again, using his grip on them to give him leverage as his merciless rhythm continued.

“You’re close, darlin’,” he observed. “I can feel it. What do you need?”

You could only moan in response, but Arthur didn’t seem to mind. He knew your body just as well as he knew his own. He lifted you up until your back was pressed to his chest and then one of his hands gently held your throat, while the other slid down your body until it reached the apex of your thighs.

“You need me to touch you?” Arthur guessed, brushing his fingers ever so slightly against your clit. “Right here?”

“Oh god,” you moaned. “Please Arthur…”

“Tell me.”

“Please touch me. I need it so badly.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

Arthur pressed down harder, his fingers rubbing in circular motions over your clit. Your pussy reacted instantly, squeezing down even harder on his cock. He moaned, tilting his head to give you another kiss, this time to the crook of your neck.

“Come on, darlin’,” he coaxed you. “I need to feel you cumming around me.”

He lightly pinched your clit, applying just enough pressure to cause a wave of pure bliss to wash over you.

“Arthur…” you moaned out.

“Shit,” he cursed.

Arthur held your hips tightly, keeping himself buried deep inside while your pussy spasmed perfectly around his cock. He loved the way it felt when you came undone, knowing that it was him who did that to you. Your legs shook and your head fell back to rest against his shoulder as your orgasm left your mind and body reeling. Arthur gave you time for your body to settle again before he was slowly pulling out of you and turning you around to face him.

He hadn’t cum, so you knew he wasn’t done with you yet and you moved to lay back on the bed. Arthur followed, his perfectly chiseled body caging you beneath him. You spread your legs, allowing him to settle between them and you let your eyes move slowly down to look at his chest and the light hairs that spread across it.

Then your gaze descended further, taking in his long and thick cock, still achingly hard. You reached out, wrapping your hand around him and lifting your hips to line him back up. Arthur didn’t waste any time, thrusting quickly back inside you.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned, lowering his head until his forehead rested against yours. “You drive me crazy.”

He moved a little slower then, no longer setting the brutal and ruthless pace from before. Now, he allowed himself to take in every little feeling and sensation, like he was savoring the way your body fit his so perfectly.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

You felt slightly bad for making him so angry, even if it did mean that you’d successfully gotten back at him.

“Just don’t… forget… darlin’,” he murmured between thrusts. “I ain’t gonna… let you go. ‘Specially not to a… son of a bitch… like that.”

He brought his hands to yours, entwining your fingers together and using the grip he had to move his hips quicker and deepen his thrusts.

“You’d better not,” you grit out, your back arching a little from how deeply he was filling you up. “Just like… you’d better not see that… bitch again…”

Arthur just let out a light, amused laugh and it surprised you that he didn’t seem bothered by you cursing her out for once. Then he dipped his head and caught your lips in a fervent kiss, pressing his tongue against yours while he continued his steady but passionate rhythm. The way his cock moved in and out repeatedly, with his hips smacking against yours in desperation, caused that fire to build up in your lower belly again.

You met his thrusts eagerly, loving the feel of his naked and toned chest pressing against your hard nipples, teasing them and the rest of your body even further. You were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, bodies tangled together and desperate for release.

His taste filled your mouth, a mix of whiskey, tobacco and just a hint of the mint he often chewed. Along with the little sounds of pleasure he was letting out, it all meant that you were totally and utterly consumed by Arthur.

He gave one last lingering and deep kiss to your lips before pulling back, releasing his grip on your hands and taking hold of your thighs instead. He picked up the pace again and you realized how close he was. His hips moved rapidly, pounding into you forcefully and your body writhed in ecstasy beneath him.

You peered up to watch him through hooded eyes, seeing the way his own were squeezed shut and his mouth was slightly agape with open lust and desire. Then you looked further down your body and observed the swift way his cock slid in and out of you.

Paired with how it felt, tantalizing your sensitive walls with every stroke, brought you to a state of elation once again. Arthur was getting louder now, unable to hold back the moans and groans of pleasure that rose deep in his throat.

The way he lost control and began to unravel whenever he was close to cumming always turned you on. He threw his head back, muscles flexing slightly as he continued to smack his hips against yours. The sounds coming from him were now becoming more unrestrained and guttural. You were so close as well and when you clamped down even tighter around him, in a vice like grip, he thrust all the way forward, burying his cock completely inside you and holding himself there.

You both let out a simultaneous moan and as the first spurts of his cum filled you up, another orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy milked him, convulsing around his length and making Arthur get completely lost in the feel of you as more desperate sounds escaped him. His cock throbbed inside you, further stimulating your sensitive walls and keeping you in a state of euphoric bliss until his body finally began to settle.

When you looked up at Arthur again, he had a small but content smile playing across his lips, and he regarded you with deep affection. Then, he leaned down again, bringing his body closer to yours so that he could look you right in the eye.

“We good now, darlin’?” He asked, voice still deep and gravelly with unadulterated lust. “’Cause I can’t handle seein’ you like that again, ‘less it’s me you’re wrapped around.”

“We’re good,” you promised him, reaching up to run your fingers over his cheek, the coarseness of his short beard tickling your skin. “Although, jealousy does look good on you.”

You let out a light, playful laugh, showing that you were just teasing him.

“I ain’t jealous,” he insisted once again.

“Sure,” you nodded, still unable to hide your smile.

But Arthur was quick to wipe the smirk of your face, causing it to melt into an expression of desire once again as he stole another kiss from your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and forgetting about everything else but him.

#arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #red dead smut #arthur morgan/reader

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thebestofoneshots · 8 months

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Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.5 K Warnings: none Prompt: The divination classroom becomes an intriguing nexus for forging new friendships amidst revelations laden with enigmatic symbolism. Meanwhile, Defense Against the Dark Arts delves even deeper into the shadows as you struggle to grasp the imminence of the ever-looming wаr. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 9: The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroкe

September 24, 1976 - Friday

Your race with Sirius, Marlene and a couple of other students who decided to tag along and prove their worth would be next week. The broom race was basically the talk of town. James had talked to the other Quidditch Team Captains, Lyonel Aldridge, Delilah Moss and of course Dmitri Volkov, and they all reached to the conclusion that it would be a great way to boost their team’s morale before the first match.

You woke up early like you had been doing the past couple of weeks, but you and Sirius had gotten a lot more competitive, so competitive you’d already gotten on James’ nerves. Which was something pretty hard to do when you were talking about quidditch. Every day you’d go on mini races, inventing new challenges to fulfill and you always pestered James regarding who’d gotten there first.

“My hand reached the line first,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, but it’s not about hands, it’s about brooms, my broom reached the halo first.” You argued back.

“It’s not about brooms, we said whoever gets there first, and clearly I did.”

“Sirius you can’t bend the rules so you win all the time! Besides, if I had stretched my hand I would’ve reached first so it doesn’t count.”

“It does because you didn’t!”

“James tell him!” You said.

“No James, tell her!”

James sighed exasperated and hit his head against the handle of his broom “Just fucк each other already,” he mumbled, not that either of you heard it.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“You know what?" He snapped, sitting straight "Neither of you won! And your mini air races when practicing? They’re OVER! No more broom races until official race day and then you’ll admit the other is a faster flier and this bickering will be forgotten.”

“But James!” Both you and Sirius argued.

He gave you both a stern look, and you shot your mouth. “Fine then, till the race we’ll know.”

Sirius nodded “Truce?” He said offering you his hand. You took a deep breath and shook it.

Once you were back in the ground Sirius called you with a smirk “Hey (Y/N)! Bet I can get to the common room before you do.” He then started running.

“You wish,” you said running behind him.

James sighed again “We said no races!”

“You said no flying,” Sirius shouted back.

You then turned to James with a smile as you ran “He’s right, this is running.”

James rolled his eyes but took off running behind the two of you anyway. The only thing that sometimes shut the two of you up, was when someone else won, and he had the longest legs. In the end, he was indeed the first one to arrive, letting himself fall on the couch as you and Sirius fought your way inside.

“Prongs, you’re here?” You said out of breath when you saw him laying on the couch, regaining his own breath.

He frowned “Since when do you call me Prongs?” He asked amused.

“Oh… um… sorry, it must have slipped,” You said as you sat down “I blame Sirius for it.”

James laughed “No, it’s fine. You can call me Prongs.” He took a long breath, “But stop blaming Pads for everything.”

“In my defence. It really is ALWAYS Sirius’ fault.”

He made the face of a man that agreed with your statement. “James!” Sirius complained he noticed.

James grimaced in return “For fucкs sake, take me away from these two,” he said grabbing a pillow and placing it over his head dramatically.

You and Sirius exchanged a glance, yeah, you may be bickering all the time now, but it was all friendly banter, James was overreacting.

“Morning,” you heard Remus say as he came down the stairs “Just got here from practice?”

You nodded “And they’re getting on my nerves Moony,” James grumbled.

Remus raised an eyebrow at the two of you “We just asked him to decide who’d been the winner of our mini race,” you said innocently.

He nodded, understanding. “Leave poor James alone, he’s been doing so much to prepare your race that… he might actually be sick of quidditch by the end of it.”

James instantly reacted to Remus’ words, removing the pillow from his head “I would never!”

You were sweaty from so much running so you excused yourself and went for a short shower, Lily was preparing her backpack when you walked out of the bathroom, using your wand to dry your hair. “Today we’re picking the fluxweed together, right?” You asked her.

She nodded “Just wait for me, will you? We’ll walk to the greenhouse together, don’t think of going by yourself.”

“Of course, I’ll wait for you Lils, don’t worry about it,” you told her with a smile and finished both closing the buttons of your shirt, and shoving your stuff quickly in your bag "Ready for breakfast?"

Lily nodded and the two of you walked down to the common room together. The boys were secretly talking to each other on the corner close to the fire, looking all conspiratoriall as they did. "You coming for breakfast?" Lily asked them. Remus turned to look at her, his brown eyes seemed more golden than usual, you wondered if it was because of the lighting in the room.

"Yes, we’ll be down in a minute tho, we’re helping Peter finish his Divination essay.”

You raised an eyebrow at that statement. Since when did they help Peter with essays? Well, Remus definitely would help Peter, he’d probably help anyone that asked nicely. But the rest? Sirius? That was a bit sus, to say the least. But Lily was already walking out of the common room, so after giving them one more look, you followed her. Maybe they were planning another prank like the rain on the main hall.

Once you were downstairs, the two of you walked towards the great hall. Mary, Marlene, Beth and some others were already there, having breakfast. You greeted them all with a smile “Good morning!” You said as you sat down.

“Morning,” responded Mary as she looked up from her copy of The Daily Prophet.

“Anything new?” You asked her, nodding towards the paper.

She shook her head “Just the wаr,” she replied somberly “Apparently some deatheaters went on a кiling spree. They’re trying to get the muggle-borns.”

“An older lady was кiled,” Marlene continued “Marsha Allenty, she was a muggle-born auror.”

You shuddered at the thought. Muggle-borns first, half-borns next, it wouldn’t take them too long to destroy half the wizarding population if they kept going. Someone had to stop them. You were about to say something when the owls started coming in.

Your family owl, Barnaby, flew down, dropping a package in front of you. You looked at it. The (Y/LN) family seal was stamped over the elegant wrapping. It had to be from your mother. You opened the package, it contained several things. Some galleons, sweets from your favourite bakery back at home, which instantly told you they’d been travelling. A box filled with different potions, and some ingredients to brew shampoo and other beauty-related things. A special potions booklet and a small velvet box.

You opened it and there was a ring inside, a thin metal piece with some engravings on it and a gem at the top, held by 4 small pieces of metal, two shaped like a star and two shaped like a moon.

“What is it?” asked Beth, leaning into you from the side.

“A gift from my parents,” you responded, taking the reins out of the box to show it to her.

“It’s stunning,” she told you. “Do you know what that is?” She said pointing at the stone.

“Moonstone, isn’t it?” You asked, Beth nodded. “Mom cares a lot about the magical properties of stones,” you explained.

“And the metal is silver,” she said turning the ring around, taking a look at the little seal on the inside.

“Silver?” You frowned, taking a closer look “You’re right, that’s different. She’s never given me a silver piece before.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re old enough?” She asked with a shrug.

You nodded, but it wasn’t that. Your mom always gave you gold things. She said the protective value of it was a lot higher than any other metal. Even the necklace Sirius had given you in the vacation, made of brass, was turned into gold with a special spell she had, a spell that would leave all the magical properties of the item intact.

“Well, whatever the reason, she did pick a beautiful ring,” you said, finally sliding it through one of your fingers.

“Do you know what magic it’s got?”

You shook your head, looking through the box to see if your mom had written any kind of letter. You didn’t find any and shrugged it off “Maybe she just thought it was pretty…”

“What was pretty?” Asked Peter, who appeared almost out of nowhere along with the boys.

“(Y/N) was gifted a new ring,” said Mary before taking a bite from her eggs.

You raised your hand so Peter could see it “Got it on a package from my mom.”

“Moon and stars, eh?” He asked with a raised eyebrow “Interesting choice of symbolism, isn’t it?”

You looked at Peter and shrugged. He was right, it was an interesting choice of symbolism. Your mom, like you, had an affinity to divination. Maybe she knew something you didn’t “My mom loves that stuff,” you told him, and lowered your hand back to the table, taking your fork to dig into a sausage.

The boys sat further down on the table. Just close enough to still be able to talk to everyone already sitting there. You left early to go check on the fireworms. Remus and you had decided to split the days in which you had to feed them, and today was your turn. When you arrived at the tunnel entrance you looked around to make sure no one had followed you and entered as quickly as possible.

“Lumus,” You whispered, and your wand lit up, making the dark tunnel navigable. You looked through the pockets of your robe and found the scrap of parchment Remus had made for you. “Revelio,” you said as you moved your wand over it, revealing a tiny map of the tunnels. You were sure you’d learn the way soon enough, but for now, the little map was indispensable.

You used the map to navigate the tunnel until you arrived at the little nook in which you’d hidden your fireworms. You grabbed some of the food in your backpack and gently placed it on the food trays you’d created with a couple of pumpkin juice caps. You looked at the little fireworms satisfied when you noticed one of them was shining, like a firefly. But the light travelled from the end of the tail, all the way through his body and towards his head, then with a small little sound, almost like a fairy burp, the fireworm caused a small ball of fire to come from his mouth. You looked at it amazed, and quickly put the small fire out with your wand.

You grabbed your backpack and took out your charms book, trying to find a flames stopper or fire preventive spell as soon as possible. Soon enough you found something that could work and cast it all over the little fireworm habitat you and Remus had been building. After the spell was ready, you stayed for a couple of minutes to make sure they wouldn’t cause a fire that’d burn the entire castle down and once you were certain you let out a long sigh, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath.

You were thrilled, your fireworms were doing excellent, the way you and Remus had taken care of them allowed them to develop in less time than the standard, which would guarantee the two of you really good grades. You had to tell Remus about it. Maybe you could tell him in divination. Shiit, divination! You were supposed to be in divination. You ran out of the little nook and used the map to find a shortcut towards the divination tower. Once outside you knocked on the door a couple of times and waited. Professor Spellman opened the door, letting you inside with a displeased glance.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you mumbled as fast as possible. You walked inside and started walking towards Remus, who luckily, hadn’t been paired with anyone yet.

“Miss (Y/LN),” Professor Spellman called, you turned to him “You will be working with Sybil today,” he said, pointing towards the small Ravenclaw girl. You swallowed but nodded and walked towards her table. You knew who she was, Remus had told you about her, and her story, and you’d probably exchanged a couple of words with her in the past, but you’d never really talked to her.

“Hey,” you waved as you sat next to her, she waved back, with a small smile, and absentmindedly nudged her glasses back to their place. You looked at her for a minute, her hair might be messy, and you heard she wasn’t very popular, but she was very pretty non the less.

Professor Spellman started talking and with a flick of his wand opened some cabinets, floating a teapot in front of each table, Leaf reading. You and Sybil brew the tea together, using some of the herbs suggested by the book for more accurate readings. And started chatting to each other after you served your respective teas.

“Do you like divination?” She asked you.

“I… uh… not that much, I’ve had some experiences,” you stuttered.

“Sad readings?” She asked, with a sympathetic expression.

You nodded, taking a sip of your tea “It’s always negative stuff with me,” you explained “Accurate, but negative.” You shuddered, “What about you? With your legacy and all?”

“I don’t dislike it,” she told you with a smile, “I don’t like getting sad readings either but it’s fun to know bits of the future, for example, the other day I had these feeling that it was going to rain, so I put on some rain boots before going to Care for Magical Creatures, some Hufflepuffs and even other kids from my year were throwing looks at me, but when it started raining and everyone’s shoes got ruined, but mine didn’t, it was completely worth it.”

You smiled at her story “I don’t get those kinds of feelings,” you said “But it’s nice to meet someone that enjoys it, maybe you could help me enjoy it too.”

Eventually, you both finished your teas and exchanged teacups. You took a deep breath and eventually leaned over to look at her cup, hoping there would be something good in there. You exhaled when you saw a small little butterfly on the cup. Butterflies were good, they meant change, they meant personal growth, they meant… Images flashed through your eyes, and you breathed heavily a couple of times, trying to regain composure.

Sybil knew exactly what was going on, she’d been through it several times before too. So she looked at you with concern. “What did you see?” She asked in a steady tone.

“Nothing bad,” was the first thing you managed to muster, “just… you’ll give a prophecy soon. A very important one, I saw Professor Dumbledore, he seemed really interested in what you had to say.” She nodded at your words, writing everything you said down on a piece of paper, then you looked at her, placing a hand on her arm “Sybil, this prophecy… it looked like it was going to be dark,” you said “but it’s one of those that will change the world.”

She nodded, taking in all the information you’d given her. She did not doubt a single word you said. And you were glad she did, sometimes visions as such were hard to comprehend, and that’s if the person even cared for it.

“Are you ok?” She asked then.

You nodded “I– uh…” you looked at her tea “You will have a period of transformation and positive change, like the metamorphosis of a butterfly,” you told her, making an effort to read the rest of her tea leaves “You should, uh… embrace the opportunities that’ll come your way and also let yourself spread your wings.”

She laughed in response “That’s my fortune?” She asked motioning towards her tea cup.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sounding very certain about it “You must accept your uniqueness,” you added for good measure, after all, humor is one of the best ways to cope with such things “And me? What’s my destiny?”

She adjusted her glasses and took a peak at your cup “I see… stars, the moon, they’re surrounding something,” she said “A small animal, maybe a hare, or… a wildcat?”

You looked at her with a frown “Did you say the moon and stars?”

She nodded, tilting the cup towards you. And she was right, the moon was there, the stars too, and… the small animal? That was a fox. You took a deep breath and showed her the ring your mom had given you “My mom sent me this,” you told her “also moon and stars symbolism.”

Sybil raised an eyebrow “Does she have an affinity with divination?” She asked. You nodded in response “Then it must mean something…” she said, picking up her book and flipping through it “But I can’t find anything about the moon and stars in the book.”

“Interpret it,” Said Professor Spellman as he walked by, looking at Sybil with a stern face.

She nodded, sliding towards the back of the chair, Professor Spellman was imposing, to say the least. “I uh… I see the moon and the stars, they’re close, to a… it’s a–“

“It’s a fox,” you told her “The animal, it’s not a wild cat, it’s a fox.”

“A fox, right!” she agreed, “and I– are those flowers?” She asked looking deeper into the cup. By then your little interaction had piqued the attention of some other students from the class, they were watching the two of you intently. “I– I may be getting things twisted but… according to your cup, the moon and the star will find a blossoming love with…” she hesitated “with the fox.”

Everyone around the classroom laughed, but the professor raised a hand to quiet them, looking into the cup himself “Sybil’s reading is accurate.” He said, “Maybe (Y/N) has an idea what those symbols might mean?”

You sat straighter, looking at the professor “I seem to be surrounded by symbolism today,” you told him “But I’m sorry sir, I’ve got no idea what it may mean. Perhaps I’ll adopt a fox or something? Shower it with love and stuff,” You lied. While you may have not been able to understand the whole symbolism, there was one thing you knew for certain: you were the fox.

The Professor nodded, even if he didn’t look convinced, and moved towards someone else’s table. You exhaled, only then realizing you’d been holding your breath. “He can be very intimidating, right?” Sybil asked you.

You nodded “Definitely.” She looked like she wanted to tell you something else “What is it?” You asked her.

“Just.. be careful, yeah? The moon, it– it looks a little mennacing on your cup. Like… like it could be dangerous.”

You frowned “As in, maybe I shouldn’t go out tonight dangerous or…?”

“No, no,” she shook her head “I don’t know how to explain it, just… keep that in mind, will ya?”

You nodded, placing a hand on her arm to reassure her “And you’ll be a famous fortune teller soon,” you told her with a smile “How does that feel?”

She shrugged “I always expected to end up as one, I guess it’s nice to get a prediction of what you’ll be, makes it a little more certain.”

“And you trust my predictions?” You asked her with a shrug.

She nodded furiously “Of course I do! It’s not every day a fairy tells you your fortune.”

“I’m sorry?!” You asked her, shocked.

“I saw it in your cup,” she explained “I didn’t mean to pry, but it made sense… your divination affinity, your charm and magnetism, your talent while flying… You’re part fairy, aren’t you?”

You looked at her mortified, your parents had done so many things to keep that hidden and now Sybil just guessed it, “You can’t tell anyone,” you told her in a very serious tone.

She smiled at you “I wasn’t planning to, your secrets are safe with me.” You smiled at her after that, you trusted her.

Once the class was over you stood up, but she stayed in her seat “You don’t have another class?” You asked her politely.

She shook her head “I’ve got arithmancy next, I took it as an optative.”

You hummed in response “Have fun then,” You told her with a smile “I’ve got Magical Theory.”

“Good luck, I heard Professor Pendragon, can be very strict.”

“No worse than Spellman,” you whispered, so that the Professor in question, who was talking to some other students wouldn’t hear you. Sybil laughed and you finally pulled your backpack from your seat and started walking outside but you were stopped by Professor Spellman.

“Miss (Y/LN),” he said, and you walked closer to him “Be very careful tonight,” he warned, “there was something odd on your cup, and as you may know, today is Full Moon.”

You nodded “Thanks, Professor.” Clearly, he saw the same thing Sybil had seen, which was mildly disturbing, but alas, your day had to continue.

Once you were outside of the classroom you spotted the boys a few stairs down. Peter was walking with the girls, you assumed towards their Ancient Studies class, while James, Sirius and Remus walked together, they were walking towards the east wing, to Magical Theory, the class you shared. You had the intention to catch up with them, but they were looking as suspicious as they had looked earlier in the common room, talking in whispers to each other, heads so close they could easily bump together. You decided it was best to let them be, you’d been hanging out with them so much lately, they probably needed some space. So you slowed down your pace, just far enough so they could get their much-needed privacy.

Eventually, you reached the Magical Theory classroom, and when you arrived you found James waiting at the door, he quickly pulled you towards him and said “She’s gonna be my team.”

You looked at him with a shrug “Your team? for what?”

Remus, who was close by responded “The teacher said we’ll be working on a team project, Sirius and I are working together, so James was waiting to claim you as his team.”

“Besides, I really need your help,” James added.

You frowned, and asked, a little confused “With the project?”

“No, with Evans!” He whispered.

Realization down on you and you looked at Remus “He didn’t even ask you to be on his team, did he?”

He shook his head in response, mouthing a “nope.”

You laughed, “All right then, we’re a team,” you told James “You can ask me all you need when we–“ You cut yourself off “Wait, Remus! I’ve got to tell you something…”

“All right, if you gave your teams, please take a seat, class will start.” You heard the teacher say.

“Nevermind,” you told him as you turned back since James was pulling you into a table near the back “You’re not planning to pay much attention then?”

“Don’t scorn me like that,” he complained “We’ll pay attention, I just– really need your advice.”

"In this project, you will embark on a captivating journey to craft your very own magical artifact. Channel your imagination, drawing inspiration from the likes of invisibility cloaks and rememberalls, as you fashion an extraordinary creation of your own making," the teacher commenced, igniting a spark of curiosity among the class, even James, who had been mortified about Lily just minutes earlier was paying attention.

"Each artifact should possess a distinct purpose, serving its intended function with finesse. You will delve into the depths of your creativity, meticulously designing a blueprint that brings your vision to life. Fear not, for guidance shall be provided, I will walk with you every step of the way“ the teacher reassured, yet a chorus of playful groans filled the air in response to the mention of project design papers.

"Ah, I understand your sentiment," the teacher chuckled, acknowledging the students' apprehension. "But worry not! The journey shall be as enchanting as the destination itself. These project design papers will serve as a canvas to weave together the threads of your imagination, showcasing the brilliance of your creation. Embrace the opportunity to bring your ideas to fruition, weaving magic into the tangible realm. Who knows, you may be the next creators to hold the rights to an incredibly useful device that will sell millions.“ With these words, a wave of anticipation and excitement rippled through the classroom, as students began envisioning the magical artifacts they would soon breathe life into.

“Well, that’s an interesting project,” you said as you started writing down some ideas in your notebook.

“It’s brilliant, we could ask him to help us with the map!”

“What map?” You asked while raising an eyebrow.

“Oh… sorry,” he said “I thought for a minute that you– nevermind. You need to help me with Lily.” James had gotten so used to hanging around you and the boys at the same time for a moment he thought you already knew about the Marauders Map.

You sighed “Of course James. Tell me what happened,” you said, turning to him “but please write some ideas down as you do.”

He nodded, and started scribbling on his piece of paper “You see, since we kissed back at Marlene’s party–“

“–James that was a game, you can’t be hung up on that.” You interrupted.

“No, you don’t understand, there was a connection.”

You rolled your eyes, while you did think Lily maybe had a little bit of a crush on James, you also knew she wasn’t anywhere ready to admit it. Especially with James’ incessant flirting since like 4th year. Marlene had told you about it. “James, it sounds ridiculous. I kissed Remus then too, and I’m not hung up on it.”

He narrowed his eyes at that “but you seemed to enjoy it.”

You shrugged “Can’t say he’s a bad kisser.” And Remus is handsome, you thought “But that’s not the point anyway. What happened?”

“Lily seems more willing to talk to me lately,” he explained.

“Well, that’s lovely, just give her enough space so you don’t make her feel pressured. Be kind and nice… and stuff.”

“I was thinking of making this very grand gesture on the quidditch–“

You shook your head “James Potter,” you warned “If you so much as try something like that you will scare her away. She’s barely realizing she might like you, don’t do THAT!”

“What did you just say?”

“Don’t do it!” You insisted.

“No,” he shook his head, “before that.”

“I said that she’s barely realizing she might have a c… fuck.”

“You think… You think she likes me?” He asked, in a very small high pitched tone.

“I– wouldn’t go as far as to say that…” he looked so sad, “…yet.”

“Yet?” He asked, perking up as a surge of excitement ran through his body.

You nodded “I… think she’s warming up to you,” you told him sincerely “Just don’t do anything that could scare her away, please.”

“Like what?”

“Like a scary grand gesture for example.”

The professor walked toward you “Any ideas so far?” He said looking at James’ messy writing.

James nodded “A confetti cannon that, after using it, leaves confetti wherever you go,” he said, and read another idea “a pair of shoes that make the wearer constantly trip, a teapot that won’t stop whistling, even without any tea on it, and a buble liquid that makes ticklish bubbles.” He said proudly.

You stared dagger at him and covered his notes with your some parchment “It’s still a work in progress,” you told the teacher with the most charming smile you could muster, “James and I are still looking for better ideas.”

The professor nodded and kept walking around the classroom.

“Tripping shoes?” You asked in desbeilif “an ever whistling teapot? Are you for real–“

“–In my defence, I’m not great at multitasking.”

“No shiit Sherlock,” you told him.

“The tripping shoes could be funny tho.”

“Yeah, and the tickling bubbles are useful, for pranks, but Professor Pendragon wants us to invent the next invisibility cloak, I don’t think he’d be too satisfied with any of those options.”

“What about a ring that’s also an invisibility cloak?”

You rose your eyebrow at him “You mean like in the Lord of the Rings?”

“What’s the Lord of the Rings?”

You gasped, offended, you too had grown on a pure-blood wizard family but at least you knew the Lord of the Rings, “The hobbit?! Does not ring any bells?” He shook his head “It’s a very popular muggle book, you should really brush up on your muggle literature. Perhaps you should have taken muggle studies instead.”

“Hey!” He complained, “Don’t bash me for not being a literature genius like you and Remus.”

“I bet even Sirius would know about The Lord of the Rings.”

“How much?”

“10 sickles?” You asked.

“Oh, I’m really, really sure Sirius won’t know either,” James said “Make it 20.”

You rose your eyebrow at his challenge and nodded “Deal,” you said raising your hand to shake his, successfully closing the deal.

“So… the magical ring’s off the table?”

“No, I… I don’t think it’s a bad idea, maybe we can make a magical ring, just, with different powers instead.”

“Like…?”

You shrugged in response “We could make two rings that always find each other.”

“Ohhh, and I could give one to Lily!” James said excitedly, you threw him a look “Like… not now... When we start dating… obviously.”

“Love the confidence of that statement,” you said with a smile, thinking of how James had used when instead of if.

He winked “What about a bracelet that lets you communicate with someone else, like a… muggle telephone.”

“Or a walkie talkie…” you agreed.

“A what?” He asked.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I- uh… yeah,” he replied, not confidently at all.

“Damn it, James, you urgently need some muggle classes.” You said and started drawing a pair of walkie-talkies on the notebook, trying to explain their use, and how they worked, even if you weren’t entirely certain of how they did. “Can’t believe none of you thought it’d be useful to have some of them around. Especially for your pranks.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed “You know smoke signals aren’t really the most effective.”

“Surely you didn’t try that,” You said confidently, his expression gave him away “You did?!?”

He shook his head, letting out a long sigh “We were in detention for days.”

You chuckled at that “At least you have the little paper planes now,” you said, remembering the day Remus had sent one to the boys, same day he took you to the lake because you were feeling upset.

“They’re useful, but they can be intercepted.” He explained, “Not very good for top secret plans.”

You laughed, of course, James would consider his prank plans worthy of the Top Secret title. “What about a bracelet?” You asked then.

“A magical bracelet? Sounds good, also with walkie-talkie abilities?”

“Could be more convenient than a ring…” you responded, “Not really sure about it tho."

“What about a pair of glasses that can help you see better in the dark?” He asked, “For those times where you can’t use lumos, maybe you lost your wand, or you wanna be inconspicuous.”

“Night vision googles, I dig it.”

“Exactly, but smaller, more practical to carry around.”

“Well, I guess we’ve got a few solid ideas then,” you said as you started picking up your things, you and James had stayed brainstorming together for a little longer than you realized “Class is over?”

James nodded “Moony and Pads left already,” he said as he looked towards the table your friends had been sitting on, “probably to the great hall, we said we’d eat together.”

“Peter too?” You asked him, he nodded.

“Wanna join us?”

You shrugged in response, “though you were planning a prank or something,” you said as you walked towards the door with him by your side.

He frowned “Why?”

“All the secretive talks? You’ve been awfully suspicious today.”

“What? No- that’s… it’s not. We’re not suspicious.”

You gave him an incredulous look but nodded “No, not at all,” you added sarcastically.

Once you were in the hall you spotted Remus and Sirius walking ahead of you and remembered you had to tell him about your fireworms so you picked up the pace. You walked behind him, for a minute, but he was so entertained in his conversation with Sirius you decided it’d be funny to tease him, so you extended your arms, and standing in your toes –because Remus was actually pretty tall– you decided to cover his eyes with your palms “Guess who–“ you started, but didn’t even get enough time to finish since Remus practically jumped out of your grasp in seconds, hissing as the silver of your new ring came into contact with his skin. It didn’t leave a mark but it did hurt him like hell.

Sirius, being quick to figure the new ring you wore had silver on it, looked at you with panic, but you didn’t notice, you were too concerned over Remus’ reaction. “I– I’m sorry Rem, didn’t mean to scare you…” you stammered “I… I was just trying to tease.” James and Sirius finally relaxed when they noticed you’d thought Remus was just scared.

“It’s ok…” he said with a forced smile as he extended his hand, a safe distance between your ring and himself “I wasn’t expecting you to come up from behind like that.”

You didn’t seem convinced but nodded, concern still evident on your face. “I uhh… I was trying to catch up to actually,” You finally changed the subject. James had gotten in between you and Remus as you walked, so you leaned a little towards the front to see your friend better “It’s about our fireworms, they’re already breathing fire.”

“What? I thought they wouldn’t do it until they were like a month old,” said Sirius.

“Exactly!” You nodded excitedly “They weren’t, our caring must have been phenomenal. Our babies are overachievers.”

“You’re keeping them together?” James asked.

You nodded “Co-parenting,” you paused “We split tasks and that way we make sure we don’t burn down the school by accident.”

Remus nodded in agreement “It’s easy to remember to feed them when it’s only a couple times a week instead of every single day.”

“And we found an excellent spot to keep them too, away from stress and anything that could make them nervous.”

“Well, the overachievers are not the worms,” Sirius said giving you and Remus a look.

James agreed “We just gave ours to Peter, in exchange for some other homework.”

“By the way (Y/N), mind taking care of them tomorrow too?” Remus asked politely.

“Sure thing,” you said, not thinking much of it.

You had your lunch with the boys, the girls and Peter joined you a bit later and you all walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts together. Professor Nightshade was elegantly leaning on her desk when you arrived at her classroom. She looked a little tense. Like she wasn’t too excited about the class to come.

Once most students were inside she shut the door with a wave of her wand “Today we will be going through the unforgivable curses.” She said, looking rather dejected “and while is not of my favourite classes to teach, we must delve into the subject, especially in dark times like these in which you might need to defend yourselves from one of them.”

The entire class was silent, everyone was paying attention to every single one of her words. It wasn’t uncommon to hear about the war, it was on the paper every single day, but most students chose to avoid and ignore the subject, so even if the war was going on, it was outside, Hogwarts was safe. But being confronted with it, so upfront, felt, well, it felt eerie and scary.

“Can someone name the unforgivable curses?” She asked.

Lily raised her hand “The кilling course, Imperius curse and…”

“The cruciatus curse,” Finished Sirius with a heavy breath.

“Correct!” Seraphina said, “10 points for Gryffindor… Indeed those are the three unforgivable curses, and they are unforgivable because…”

“Because they violate the rights of whoever is being cursed by them,” you responded.

“Can any of them be avoided?”

You shook your head “Only very experienced wizards can resist Imperio.”

“And countered?”

“Physical barriers might block some of the curses, but there is no known spell that can do such a thing.” Said Remus.

“No one has ever survived a кilling course either,” Imogen Potts added.

“Seems like you’ve been doing all the readings accordingly,” the teacher said satisfied “Now, you know the theory, but today we will have a small demonstration.” The students gasped, but Seraphina nodded heavily “You must know what you’re up against,” she pulled out a box and opened it, a butterfly flew out of it, about the size of your palm. Seraphina let the small insect fly freely for a minute before pointing her wand straight at her and whispering “Imperio.”

The butterfly started flying around, making circles around the class before landing on Marlene’s nose. She was sitting beside you, so you looked at her in awe as the butterfly batted its wings softly near her face. But then Seraphina changed the course, whispering “Cruicio.” The butterfly fell from Marlene’s nose and onto your table, right next to your book as it batted its wings helplessly. You looked at it with concern, Seraphina herself looked mortified as she inflicted pain on the small creature.

You gave her an imploring look, and that was all it took for her to stop. The small butterfly was released from the pain and started flying all around the classroom, desperately looking to get away from the place. Once the butterfly was close enough to her, she whispered the last curse and after a green flash came from her wand, the butterfly stopped flying, slowly falling to the ground, like a leaf from a tree.

The whole classroom was quiet. You stood up and carefully picked up the small butterfly from the floor. Looking at it pitifully as you handed it over to Seraphina, who held the box out for you to place it inside. “As you’ve seen, these curses are not only lethal but terrifying as well. There is a reason why, whoever dares to infringe them, will never be forgiven.”

“They will go to Azkaban,” whispered Peter.

“What a pitiful destiny,” agreed Sirius.

Professor Nightshade sighed heavily “I think this is enough for today, you may go.”

Students nodded and started placing their things into their backpacks. When you stood up, you walked towards her “I want to be in the duelling club.” You told her “I… I don’t want to end up like the butterfly.”

Seraphina looked at you, a sorrowful look in her eyes, she understood the implications of what you’d said. She knew how heavy your statement was. And she nodded “Of course darling, you’ll be a brilliant addition to the club.”

You nodded, satisfied and finally caught up with your friends. You went straight to Lily “At what time must we go get the fluxweed?” You asked.

“It’s supposed to be when the moon it’s at its highest point,” she told you “I checked the astronomy section of the paper in the morning, apparently at around 11:30 pm.”

“All right, we can totally hang out together till then, right? Do you have any plans?”

She shook her head “We had study club, but we cancelled it today, I was thinking of maybe going to the library to get some stuff and then studying or just chilling back at the common room.”

“It’s settled then,” you told her with a smile, walking alongside her towards the library. Since you had already finished most of your assignments you decided to walk through the long bookshelf to see if you found anything that caught your eye, while Lily looked for some more specific books. And as you walked over the edge of one of the bookshelves you bumped into Nina, the small Ravenclaw girl from the study grup that had a crush on Remus. “Hey love,” you said politely.

“Hi,” she replied quietly. To be fair, Nina really wanted to dislike you when she first encountered you. She was jealous of how close you and Remus had gotten in such a short period of time, but you had always treated her with kindness, genuinely willing to help her, if she had any questions, or needed help with a particular spell; that, in the end, she couldn’t help but like you instead. In fact, she’d go as far as to say she admired you. She’d seen you practicing spells and she even went to one of the quidditch trainings, with the intention to ogle at Remus who had gone too, but she was far too entranced by you when you were flying that she almost completely forgot about her original reason for going.

“You looking for Rem?” You asked her politely.

She shook her head “He cancels study sessions at least once every couple of weeks,” she told you “Originally, only Lily held the sessions by herself but she got very stressed without him to help her with the younger students, so they decided it was best to cancel them altogether.” Remus cancelled them? You thought, that’s odd. “What about you? Are you looking for a book in particular?”

You shook your head “Just something to entertain me while I hang out with Lily.”

“Oh, I think I can help you with that,” she said with a smile, bringing her backpack in front of her and opening the zipper “I actually got my hands on this book out last week, I read it in days, it’s about a werewolf who falls in love with a wizard.” she explained “It’s not very accurate with the actual nature of werewolves, but the key points are there. It’s a very fun romantic novel If you’re into that kind of stuff.” She said taking a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “Oh and this one,” she grabbed a smaller book “It’s filled with simple yet practical spells that we don’t have in the curriculum, such as ways to fix glasses and open locks. It’s fantastic if you want something a bit more educational.”

You looked at her with a smile “These are fantastic Nina, thank you!” You said with genuine excitement.

She smiled at you, blushing just a little at your reaction “It’s nothing. I’m– I really like books,” she told you with a smile “If you ever need new recommendations, I’m down.”

You smiled at her “You’re the best!” You told her picking the books up from where she left them “It was lovely seeing you.”

She nodded, and was about to say something when Lily showed up, looking for you “I’ve got the books, ready to go?” She asked, and then noticed you weren’t alone “Oh, hey Nina! What’s up?”

“She lent me a couple of books,” you said, raising the books you held in between your arms so Lily would notice.

Lily nodded “Oh, Nina is really good at picking out books, trust me.” Lily said, “Mind if I take (Y/N) with me now?”

Nina shook her head “We were just doing some small talk.” She said, with a bit of a blush as both you and Lily waved your goodbyes.

As you walked outside the library Lily gave you a look “So… you’re friends with Nina now?”

You shrugged “She’s pretty nice actually. I don’t know when it happened, but she stopped hating me over Remus, and now she’s really kind, she even recommended books!”

“You probably just charmed her with your personality and looks, like you did with pretty much everyone,” Lily teased with a smile.

“Oi, shut up Evans, you’re probably more charming than I am,” you said nudging her in a friendly manner. She nudged you back and the two of you walked together towards the common room, chatting about your due assignments, and your favourite books. Since Lily was a muggle-born, she knew even more about muggle books than you, and it was fun hearing about all of them, from her favourites to those she didn’t like all that much.

Once you arrived at the common room you both found a comfortable place, she sat on the small round table by the stairs and you went straight for one of the couches, letting yourself comfortably lay on it while opening your backpack to pick one of the books Nina had recommended, you grabbed each on one hand, staring at the covers, trying to decide which one to go for first. After weighing both of them in your head, you decided to read the spell book and leave the romance novel on the side table.

Nina hadn’t been lying, the book was indeed practical, and you tried casting some of the most complicated or useful spells as you read, practicing the wand movements and incantations as Lily focused on her homework.

At some point Mary and Marlene went in, they were giggling about something that happened so you decided to leave your book next to the others and join their conversation.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! You won’t believe what happened.” Mary said.

You smiled “Oh, do tell”

“We were talking to Moaning Myrtle, she said she overheard Holden talk about Marlene with some other boys, that she was an incredible beater and stuff.”

“Really?” You said smiling wider “I mean, no doubt, she’s amazing! But he said that?”

Mary nodded “According to Myrtle, that is… She also said some boys have been saying you’re part Veela because of your charm, be careful they may try and throw you into the water to see if you’re a good swimmer.”

You laughed at that, you were a good swimmer, but they couldn’t have been more off with their guesses. “So… what are you waiting for Mars? You have to make your move!”

“Make my move?” She gasped.

You nodded “Well, at the party you seemed pretty close, admit you like him or–”

“–Kiss him unexpectedly,” completed Mary.

“Yeah, that too.” You nodded.

“Well…” Marlene said taking a deep breath “I’m thinking I could– I wanted to invite him to Hogsmeade over the weekend, actually.”

“That’s brilliant!” You told her “Isn’t that tomorrow?”

She nodded in response “You coming too? I heard Sirius and James mention they wanted to show you around.”

“They haven’t told me anything about it, but I guess I’ll tag along with ya’ll anyway.”

At that point Lily stood up from her place and stretched, yawning softly “What time is it?”

“10:30,” answered Marlene after looking at her wrist watch “You done?”

She nodded “But we have to stay up for at least an hour,” Lily complained.

“Why?” Mary asked.

“We’re going to harvest some fluxweed,” you responded instead.

“Oh… because it’s full moon,” Marlene acknowledged.

You nodded “When are you getting yours?”

“Marlene ordered them from a fancy potion supply store.”

“That was allowed?” you asked, surprised.

Marlene shrugged “Not sure, but I highly doubt Slughorn will find out, if anything, we can say we picked them out with you.”

“Sure,” Lily said, sitting down on the sofa next to you, placing your feet on top offer lap to make some space. You made a move to bring your feet down but she shook her head “It’s alright, rest up, you’ve been awake since like 5 am, haven’t you?” You nodded, letting your feet on to lay over her lap “You should just tell James to screw off and sleep in, I can tell you’re not a morning person.”

You laughed “I wish, but I want to be in top shape for the game and… to be honest, I’m still getting used to my new broom, that’s why I’ve been flying every morning.” Out of nowhere, a pillow was thrown towards your face “Oi, what was that for?” You asked looking at Marlene, who’d been responsible for it.

“Show off,” she said “I need time to practice with my new broom,” she teased “and then she goes and flies like a professional every single damn time.” You opened your mouth to try to speak but closed it soon after, Marlene continued talking “James has been making the training even tougher so we keep up with her.”

“Sorry,” you said then “I guess I just really like flying.” After all, it’s in my blood, you thought. You wondered if you’d ever trust them enough to tell them about it, the answer was pretty simple, you already did, and you wanted to, but you knew how dangerous it was.

You stayed talking with the girls for a while, Marlene told you about the time she got on the quidditch team, Lily talked about being exceptionally good at potions and being invited to an exclusive party with Slughorn and Mary told you about the private classes she had been taking with Madam Pomfrey, about all the new potions and spells she had learned.

“It’s finally 11,” said Lily when Mars finished the story about the worst date she had gone on, she’d been invited to a magical restaurant, that had been jinxed by an angry customer the previous day, it had been absolute mayhem.

You stood up, stretching yourself “We should probably get going,” you said with a smile. She nodded and picked her backpack up, taking out a piece of paper and handing it over. You looked at her puzzled.

“It’s a nigh pass, I asked McGonagall for it,” she told you “We can go out and Filnch won’t say a thing.”

“Oh nice,” you said looking at the paper, boy, how easy would it be to make duplicates of it, with different dates. “Shall we?” You asked tilting your head towards the door. She nodded and the two of you walked towards the portrait of the fat lady.

“Good luck girls!” You heard Marlene shout from behind.

“Yeah, we’ll be back in the bedroom.”

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6emo6zombie6 · 4 months

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Forbidden Territories: M!Reader x John Marston

First actual smut on here!! I hope this isn't too shabby, since it's been a while since I wrote anything unholy. Tags for gay stuff, frotting, more gay stuff, cowboys, and dicks.

18+ warning

It was now week two of being in an awkwardly distant friendship with John. The two of you weren’t the best of friends before, but you rarely complained whenever Dutch sent you out together, it was all in good spirits—until a week and a half ago, that was.

John had mindlessly wandered into your tent after dinner, slightly air-headed as he opened his mouth to ask you a question, just to notice you in your cot. Sweaty, flushed, and with your cock in hand. You jumped and instantly started tucking your hard-on back into your jeans. It had only been a split second before he turned back around and awkwardly rushed out of your tent, but he somehow managed to get a full look at you while you were jerking off.

Now, this wasn’t something new to him. He’d caught people in all kinds of awkward situations, but seeing you in such a vulnerable position made some repressed feelings come boiling back up. He even had trouble admitting to himself that he had a crush on you. It was too embarrassing, he didn’t know if anyone would even understand.

You had been embarrassed ever since John had caught you, and it was even worse knowing he got you in that situation in the first place. It had all been a series of light, accidental touches and brushing up against you over the week, and he had tipped you over the edge when he groaned in reaction to nicking his finger while sharpening a stick. Your head pieced some images together and into your tent you retreated, your jeans starting to strain.

You and John hadn’t shared a single glance or word since that, always peering at the ground when crossing each other on campgrounds and avoiding each other during meal times. The others had started to take notice after the first few days, but they weren’t worried to such an extent that they felt the need to ask either of you what was going on.

John was currently on guard duty while you and a couple of the other guys had some drinks. You weren’t drunk just yet, but you had had enough sips of whiskey to feel your confidence come back. You were already thinking up a plan on how to accidentally run into him and talk through what happened, the constant awkward silences around each other were starting to get tiring. John was a decent feller, you just wanted to be okay with him again.

Before you know it, you’re up and walking away from the campfire, your bottle of whiskey still in your hand. You walk a little bit into the patch of trees at the edge of Horseshoe overlook, peering around you to see if John was there. You eventually spotted him leaning against a tree with a rifle in his hand, he was barely visible but you could make out his silhouette against the pale moonlight. You could tell he had noticed you, but he was pretending he didn’t, hoping you were just walking by incidentally.

He could feel his heart rate start to speed up when you came closer, it was clear you were intoxicated, and just as clear that you wanted to talk. He hesitantly looked in your direction, blinking.

“Look—we need to talk about what happened-“ You were barely able to finish your sentence when John cut you off with a groan. He was glad it was dark, or you could’ve already noticed his face that had started burning up.

“Don’t start,” He sighed, absently staring at the rifle he was holding. His thoughts had already started racing.

“It’s—it’s whatever, okay? Let’s just not mention it anymore. “

“so… we—we’re good?” You mumble.

“Hm.” John nods, earning a soft smile from you. He glances at your bottle of whiskey, motioning toward it. “Care to pass that?”

You shrug and hand it to him, watching as he takes a large gulp. You stare at his Adam's apple as it bobs while he swallows the liquor. He pretends to not notice your stare while he takes a few more sips, savoring the burn of the alcohol in his throat.

He glances at your slightly red face as he hands you back the bottle, your eyes meeting for a split second until he peers off into the distance again.

“Dutch is gonna get mad at us if he catches us quarreling out here, you know?” John hinted, though he didn’t actually want you to leave. You saw right through his façade, chuckling lightly as you leaned against the tree beside him.

“Dutch’d be glad we’re talkin’ again.” You countered lightheartedly.

John gave a shrug and a hum, a silence falling over the two of you. Weirdly enough, it wasn’t awkward—more peaceful if anything. You resorted to looking at John’s hands as they gripped the rifle, your mind starting to wander like it usually did.

“would you stop staring?” John said directly, trying to sound stern. “You’re distracting me.”

Your eyes met again as you looked up in surprise.

“Oh, so now I’m distracting you?” You retorted, not even sure what you were on about. You just said the first thing that came to mind, anything to hear John reply.

“What—” John looked as confused as you did. “What does that even mean?”

“Damnit, John—I-“ You stammered, your thoughts about him threatening to spill from your mouth. He looked at you, awaiting an answer.

“I’m—you’re—oh for fuck’s sake, John.” You were starting to get frustrated with your own feelings, and John was starting to get frustrated by your inability to properly talk to him.

You shared a mutually annoyed glance, then you acted purely on impulse and stepped in front of John, one hand pinning his hip to the three behind him while the other held on to the bottle of whiskey. Your lips were on his beforeeither of you could even register what you were doing.

You had managed to break through John’s tough act, pressing up against him as his right hand planted itself on your chest. His scruffy beard rubbed up against your shaven face as your lips moved in perfect synchronicity, your eyes shutting.

John let out a soft growl as he let himself sink into your touch for a few seconds, though his hand was pushing you off before you knew it.

John glanced into your eyes, then at the ground with a guilty expression. “We can’t be doing this,” He murmured. You stayed silent as his hand, despite his protest against your situation, remained on your chest. He could feel your heart thump against his palm.

“We shouldn’t.”

“Don’t start with this shit,” You mumbled in a low tone, attempting to step to the side.

This time, John let his impulses lead him. He tossed his gun to the side as his hand found its way to your collar. A harsh tug sent you stumbling forward again, your lips catching John’s a second time as he grabbed your bottle of whiskey and tossed it in the same direction as his rifle.

His arms slung around your waist, his hands resting just above your gun belt as he pulled you flush against him. You rested your hands on his biceps, leaning against him shamelessly. Neither of you made an effort to be subtle, all the tension crashing down on you and making you melt into each other’s touch.

A soft grunt left your lips as you felt your soft bulge rub against John’s, his hands gently pulling your hips forward to create a bit more friction. There was no shame in this now, all of your doubts had seemed to have washed away in John’s grasp. Your tongues sloppy intertwined as you both tried your best hand at kissing, which neither of you seemed to have a talent for.

John let out a soft huff as he rutted his hips against yours, making it clear he was impatient. It was completely in character of him, though. You’d never seen ol’ Marston being patient with anything before.

“Let's get this over with,” He mumbled in between kisses, his heart pounding at the anticipation.

“Give it some time, will you? I’m not even hard yet.” You mumble in response, slightly annoyed at John’s inability to just enjoy the moment. “You’re always rushin’ everything.”

“You’ve been makin’ me wait for this too long already.” John blurted out in a sigh, letting you unbutton the top few buttons on his overshirt as he kept pushing his crotch against yours, making you feel how desperately quick he was getting hard.

You blushed at that comment. “goddamn, Marston—how long ‘you been keepin’ this to yourself?”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” He sighed again, looking at you to see the moonlight reflect off of your eyes.

You leaned in to continue making out with him as your hands clumsily wandered down to his crotch. Much to John’s avail, you unbuckled his gun belt first, then your own, and tossed them aside. He seemed happy with the extra straps out of the way, allowing the two of you to get closer to each other.

John was already growing hard, his shaft pressing against your thigh shamelessly.

“Damnit,” He cursed softly, not feeling you stiffen at the same pace as him. “Let me help you with that, c’mon, I’m not aimin’ to get caught.”

You nod with a soft chuckle, giving John the okay to start pawing at your crotch. His hands were rough and quick, focused only on getting what he wanted from you. You watched his needy expression as he continued to pleasure you, slowly but surely helping you get hard.

A soft moan tumbled from your lips as you felt the oh-so-familiar throb in your jeans. John shot you a grin, happy to know that you were sharing the same feeling of ecstasy.

He gave your hip a soft nudge, urging you to take a small step back so he could unbutton his pants without you in the way. He gave you a grin as he guided himself out of his jeans, proud as he noticed you blush at his size.

“What, not like you ain’t never seen one before, huh?” He teased, holding his cock in one hand as he used the other to swap your positions, now it was you pinned against the tree, John staring you down like a pervert.

He peeked behind the tree, watching the others for a second. “Go on, they all look preoccupied with Uncle’s yappin’.”

“Alright, alright.” You glanced up at John to make sure he was watching, then helped yourself out of your pants the same as him.

John gave a soft grunt at the sight, his cock twitching in synchronicity with the sound he made. You had never anticipated he would be this into doing anything with you. John never seemed excited about anything, really.

You let out a soft gasp once John moved his hips forward, his cock pressing up against yours. You felt yourself throb once again, the other man’s large hand wrapping itself around the two of you. His hand was noticeably colder than yours, making you suck a breath in through your teeth.

John kissed you as his hand started pumping both of you, swallowing the few surprised grunts and moans that you let out. Feeling another man’s dick against yours was a sensation you knew nothing about, it felt strange, but so strangely pleasurable.

His hand quickly warmed up due to your body's warmth and all the friction he was creating, making the interaction even more enjoyable. He stayed mostly quiet, only letting out a grunt or a huff when you jerked your hips. He planted his free hand beside your head to keep himself from falling over as he jerked the two of you off.

“This feels—” He gulped, stifling a moan. “This feels as good to you as It does to me, right?” He asked as if not having heard all the noises coming from you.

“I should ask you that,” You say in a low, mumbled tone.

“Then I think we’re on the same line,” John nodded to himself. His hips gently started rolling against you, and you returned the movement with ease. You were both rutting up into John’s hand now, your soft noises now harmonizing with each other. Neither of you seemed bothered by anything going on behind the trees now, all of this felt too good.

You both leaked precum, the liquids mixing together as it trickled down your cocks. This was all so wrong, so perverted, but neither of you wanted it to stop.

You got more and more desperate, your paces needing to constantly speed up to chase the perfect ecstasy that was your climax. You both got more sensitive, your faces both adorned with brows that knitted together.

As the minutes went by, you got closer and closer to your release. You felt the familiar warm, tingly sensation in your lower stomach, signaling to you that this didn’t have to keep going for much longer for you to bust your load.

John was slowly getting louder, his rough voice letting out perverse noises that you had been dreaming about for months. Your chest was heaving as you matched his speed. All the doubts you had about ever getting this close to another man, especially John, had floated away. You had never wanted anyone’s body pressed up against yours more than now, and luckily your dream was coming true.

“shit, I’m—” You bit on your tongue, stifling a rough moan. You were ready to let your eyes roll in the back of your head, letting you focus fully on what your body was feeling.

“I’m gonna cum,” You whispered.

John bit his lip as he watched your expression, his hand covering your mouth in an attempt to keep you quiet.

“Yeah,” He sighed and nodded, looking down at the mess between your bodies. “Me—me too.”

His breathing started becoming more sporadic as time went on, both of you coming closer to your release.

John gave little warning as he was the first to cum, his sticky seed spilling over the both of you as he let out a grunt. He looked at you, chewing on his lip as he kept thrusting his hips into his hand, constantly stimulating you. You moaned against his hand at the sight, the combined intensity of it all making you stumble into a climax of your own.

You panted and whined as you painted John’s hand and cock with your cum, continuing to rut your hips until you were milked dry.

John laughed softly at your eagerness, feeling the sticky substance coat him. He took his hand off of your mouth once you were no longer making any noises, only breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

He lifted his hand off the two of you as you both went soft, inspecting the few drops of cum on both of your clothes.

“I bet they won’t notice if we go down to the creek and wash this off real quick,” He murmured.

#john marston #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #john marston x reader #red dead redemption fanfiction #rdr2 smut #rdr2 #john marston smut #semi public sex #frotting #gay smut #male reader

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monsterbeetlebug · 8 months

Text

Never steal from Micah Bell

Fem reader

Tw: mentions of guns, violence, fire, blood, sexual tension.

Tilly came running into camp. She was full of panic. Eyes vide and out of breath. She started screaming that you had been kidnapped by a gang. They had been after all of you for some time. They managed to get their hands on you wanting to get info on where the Van der Linde gang was residing. Everyone dropped their stuff and came running to Tilly. Asking of everything she knew. Miss Grimshaw took her away to clean her up as the fellers started talking. Dutch, Hosea and Arthur was scrambling about to gather their stuff. They quickly turned around when they heard the sound of hoves racing away. They all stood frozen looking confused between each other as Micah raced away. He had never shown any interest or care to save anyone but himself. Micah rodes as fast as he could. Rage was fueling him. The reflection of the sunset was like flames in his eyes. There was no mercy to be shown. Nobody who steals from Micah Bell had a life ahead of them. His laugh erupted. He felt like he would go insane if anything happened to you. "Ain't no one stealin from me who gets to stay alive."

You were locked in a small shed. Left in the dark small room. They had roughed you up a bit trying to get you to speak. Your head hanging down as you focused on sounds outside. You had shot up as you heard an all too familiar laugh and yelling. Micah! The cold bastard actually cared enough about you to come and save you. "I'm going to burn this place to the ground! Time to meet with your maker boys!" His maniacal laughter came through as you heard glass breaking and shots fired. You could see the slight glow of fire from outside. There was screaming and gunshots all around.

Then suddenly, it fell silent. No talking. No footsteps. Only the crackling of fire growing. You feared the worst. Then, the door of the shed swung open. Your eyes widened, and relief filled you. There before you stood Micah. The glow and sparks from the fire wild behind him. The dark silhouette was disturbingly impressive. His eyes felt cold and dark. Blood was splattered across him. Luckily, it wasn't his own. You jolted up and ran towards him. You hugged yourself around his neck. He hugged back and patted you back. "You came for me, you cold bastard, you actually came." Micah let out a soft chuckle as you pulled apart. He looked at you with eyes that told more than his words. "Couldn't let them get away with stealing the only thing I care more for than my guns." You felt a tingling sensation go through you at his words. You hugged him tighter with your head under his chin. Smiling to yourself hearing those words. That evil asshole actually has some feelings beneath is vile exterior. Something he would never show to anyone else, especially not back at camp. He couldn't let them know he actually had a heart. He would never hear the end of it if they found out he was a human after all.

Micah grinned to himself feeling how close you held onto him. He held you just as thight back. Feeling relaxed knowing you where safe with him again. He slowly slid his hand down your back to place it on your butt. Softly squeezing. You felt a cribling inside. A warm feeling that was building. He placed a kiss on your head before he moved to kiss at your neck. He let out a hum of appreciation. Your breath got heavy as you closed your eyes. You could feel him grow harder against your stomach. He pulled away and placed a kiss on your forehead. A soft smirk visibleas he spoke. "C'mon, let's get you out of here, we'll finish this later doll."

He gave you a pat on your butt as he helped you up on his horse. Then suddenly you heard a stampede of hoves arriving. It was all the fellers from camp. Arriving just as you were about to leave this place. They saw you sat on top of Baylock like a trophy. All safe and content. Your cheeks stilled flushed red from Micah's actions. They looked at the burning camp behind you. Half the place was burned already, and things had begun falling down. Arthur looked angry at Micah. "What tha hell, Micah?! Was it really necessary to burn the place?" Micah led his horse towards them with a prideful saunter. His sleazy grin taking it's usual form. He leaned a bit back and put his hands out to his sides, exaggerating his words. "You're late to the show boys. Everything's dealt with, and I've saved our dear damsel in distress. But I didn't take you for a slow guy in a rescue Cowpoke, or should I say slowpoke instead?" Micah mocked Arthur as he passed by everyone. You couldn't help but find it funny. You tried your best to hide it so Arthur wouldn't get more upset than he already was.

Micah eventually hopped up behind you. Making sure you were sat close to him. You could feel his still hard member pressed up against your back. Making sure you could feel how much he craved you. As Baylock started trotting away and back home, he put a secure hand on your thigh. Stroking at your inner thigh. It made your warm tingle feel like a flame stared inside. Melting you closer to him. He needed to feel you to know you where there. That you where safe within his hand. He had a grin on his lips. With a rough but loving voice he spoke. "Let's get you home and taken care of princess."

#micah bell x reader #micah bell #Micah bell x femreader #rdr2 #rdr2 micah #rdr2 fluff #rdr2 smut #fluff #soft smut #short smut #x female reader #fem reader #x fem!reader #fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction

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sweetflanfiction · 9 months

Text

Second Chances - Part 8

Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur x reader

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female. Gif by the talented @sweeetestcurse. There's a little funny tidbit at the end of the chapter :D

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

• ··········· • ············ •

His eyes looked up and he felt his muscles tense. That single word had such an impact on him that he didn't even know he was holding his breath until Albert spoke again.

"Cattle convoy." The older man said, but Arthur didn't blink. "Some affluent cattle farmer needs his cattle delivered by train to his ranch north of here. Everston agreed to a substantial fee for it. He wants us to help him."

Arthur slowly breathed, hoping it would remain unnoticed by the two other people in the room. Hell, even he wasn't aware he was holding his breath.

"Who's goin'?" You asked, moving the bucket of water you had been using for the dishes.

"Well, Everston obviously, his eldest, myself, Brant…"

"Can I come?" You asked abruptly and Albert laughed.

"You know the answer is no."

"Fine. No hurt in asking." Your eyes landed on the silent Arthur and she squished her eyes, one side of her mouth curled up. "Take him then."

"Hum…could actually be a good idea. What do you say Mr. Callahan?"

Arthur had only been on the other side of the cattle transport. The side that steals it and re-sells it, with the probability of killing the participants. To be honest, knowing the ins and outs of the outlaws may be of use to them. He nodded silently.

"You alright there?" You asked. Your eyebrows furrowed deep in her face, concern written in them.

"Huh…" He cleared his throat. "Yes, yes! Sorry, I've had some past experiences with that sort of…job."

"Bad ones?" The rough farmer asked.

"Both, I guess."

"It'll be fine Mr. Callahan. We do this often, it's income. It's the first time we work with this feller, but we have some that we tipically work. We just go to town, get them off the train, ride them to their owners and come back."

"No outlaws?" Curiosity had the better of him but, to his surprise, Albert chuckled.

"That's what's worrying you? That you'll get shot?"

"More like if I have to shoot someone…"

The older man's face turned serious for a moment and Arthur thought he'd been found.

"The law around these parts generally accepts one or two dead outlaws. Especially if they have bounties on 'em. We try not to let it get to that extent, but if it's between them and us, we try to make it all about us."

The small kitchen was silent for a while, the gravity of the topic not escaping anyone. The other two people might have been more reserved in their opinions about killing anyone, but Arthur had done it more times than he could count. And he did it well. Too well sometimes.

"You know how to use a rifle don't you?" Albert asked. His eyebrows raised and a grin on his lips. He knew the answer to that.

"If he doesn't, he could just tackle the bandits to the ground. The man is taller than a lighthouse, probably tougher than a tree trunk." You joked and Arthur felt his cheeks turn red.

"Well, say what's on your mind why don't you?" The older rancher chastised, getting up from his seat on the table and walking out, both Arthur and his daughter following him.

"What? Am I lying?" She turned to Arthur and placed two hands on his upper arm, wrapping them around his muscles, making him stop dead in his tracks. "Look at this!"

"Stop manhandling the help, dear. You're making the man uncomfortable."

You looked up at Arthur. In a nonchalant manner, his eyes slowly moved from your hands to your face. He wasn't uncomfortable, quite the opposite. It felt like a comfortable joke between friends. He tried to stop himself from tensing his muscles under his shirt to see if you would react. However, your face showed you had realized you may have stepped on a line, your smile fading and your hands moving from his arm.

"I'm sorry Mr. Callahan."

It took him a moment to reply, clearing his throat and nodding his head at her and smiling casually.

"No need to be sorry Miss Graham."

She mimicked his smile and patted him on the shoulder, following her father to a room he hadn't been in before. It was just at the bottom of the stairs but he almost never saw it open.

"Come on Mr. Callahan. Let's meet the rest of the land." The older gentleman half shouted from inside what seemed to be his office.

Arthur walked into a sunny room furnished with a couch, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with books and knick knacks, a desk and a chair. Much like the rest of the house the room was small and cramped, but wasn't uncomfortable. It was cozy and lived in.

You sat on the couch and grabbed a guitar that had been leaning against the wall. You started to strum it as Mr. Graham grabbed a framed map from the wall and placed it on top of his desk.

"Now, this is Captain's Corner." He pointed to the map.

A loose diamond shape was drawn on yellowed paper and divided into five parts: four around the shape and one smaller. The faded names were neatly written on the paper. Some he could make out, others not so much.

The upper part of the diamond seemed to have a small river or trail of water around it. Beyond that some trees were drawn and another dotted line appeared. On the lower part there were some trails with arrows pointing to various locations.

"Now here." He pointed to the top left part of the diamond. " That's us. We have horses, four sheep, and two cows..."

"And the chickens. Don't forget the chickens." You reminded him and Albert nodded.

"And some chickens. We sell sheep's wool, and horses. We've got some crops that we use for whatever we can. Right now we have wheat growing, but that may change. As long as it's hardy it probably grows."

"We're gonna try potatoes after and maybe have some beehives." You added from behind Arthur still plucking random notes from the guitar.

"Below us is Brant's. Eleanor and Williamson. They have corn crops and Eleanor has a herb greenhouse. They live alone, no kids unfortunately. Mighty fine people. If you ever feel under the weather, go to him. He'll fix you up in no time... You're living proof of that."

He moved his hand to the lower right part of the diamond.

"The Everstons. Bernard and Josie, and about 200 kids…"

"It's just 5." You interrupted again.

"And their 5 kids. Lovely family, loud and warm. You'll meet them soon. He's the cattle owner of the bunch, has more cows than brains sometimes, but he's an excellent man and I trust him to make wise judgements. And here, next to us, we have Mr. Thomson. Tobacco leaves and foul humor, that's what he got." Albert's tone shifted to a less friendly tone as he talked about his neighbor. "He drinks and takes care of the crops. If at all possible don't cross the lines to his propriety. He's as rancorous and he is a good shot."

"Amen. My leg still twitches every time I get near that fence." He could hear the venom in your voice, which was an unfamiliar sound to him.

"And in the middle we have Miss Beatrice Renoir. Widow, her husband came from France, died and she stayed here. She's trying to plant sugar cane and it's succeeded up to now, but we still have to wait and see."

"How about this?" Arthur pointed to the woods above, which have a dashed line running through them.

"Native folk have settled there." Albert said, watching Arthur closely.

"They trouble?" He asked.

"No. Quite the opposite. We all try to help each other."

"Alright then." Arthur stood straight and looked at the older man. “Can I ask a question? Without meaning any offense?”

“Of course.” The rancher straightened up.

“Why is it called Captain’s Corner? It’s clearly not a corner and…”

“Most of us were War veterans." He laughed. “And some drunk in town decided that we were all captains and that we had taken this corner of the land so…Captain’s Corner…”

Arthur nodded. He felt nervous about this. It was the first honest to God job he had since he could remember.

"You understand everything?" Albert asked, placing the map on the wall again.

Arthur nodded, taking a deep breath.

"When do we leave?"

• ··········· • ············ •

Map of the ranch:

• ··········· • ············ •

@photo1030 :: @sylum :: @marislittlereadingcorner :: @rratman :: @clevergirl74 :: @aureolinb

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction #ao3 #fanfiction

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marthalovesu · 1 year

Text

Just to survive the whole situation, me and my gf accidentally made an AU with kierthurs (yet another one, yess...)

It's kind of two AUs inside of one? Uh. Okay, here-

The concept is...it's like modern and fantasy setting. There's a lil' bit of magic and people that posses it. For example, remember that witch house from the game? With a potion brewing outside? Arthur drank it, of course, because my gf's Arthur eats everything that he considers edible. So. That's how he turned into a cat. Kieran found him while he was taking Branwen out for a walk. Arthur was fighting a badger (and was winning!!), but Kieran shoo'ed the creature away and decided to take the kicking and scratching cat home.

Same goes to the other....root? of AU. Here we have Colm that might be practicing dark arts. And we all know how he treats his people. So being turned into a cat was just another punishment for Kieran. In both AUs the boys can break the spell only by meeting a human, that will grow to truly love them. Not in a freaky way, okay?? The kind of love, when you see your cat as an equal to you and a part of your family kind of way. Kieran-cat knows that, Arthur-cat does not. And love should be mutual.

That's why Arthur acts real nasty. Trying to escape in the first couple of days, laying on Kieran's black clothes, scratching and hissind, all that kind of stuff. But Kieran loves him anyway, and eventually Arthur grows to love this patient fella too. Untill one morning Kieran wakes up, pinned to the bed with the weight of some blond stranger sleeping on him.

Kieran-cat was trying to find someone, but he looked like, well, hell. A pathetic-looking thin and sick cat. He couldn't even hunt properly. His prey kicked his ass or he simply felt terrible for listening to the screams of it. So he decided fishing is better. Arthur took him home after seeing this feller under the rain askind shyly for a piece of his food. Arthur then nursed him and helped get healthy again. Even so, he did made some rules for a cat, like, keeping his distance and not sleeping in his bed. But of course those rules was ignored by both of them eventually. Arthur grown with warm feelings for such a smart, polite and loving cat. Even though he looked a lot like a shrimp or something. So Kieran turned back into a human too!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #kieran duffy #arthur morgan #kierthur #au stuff

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anothersimlishtragedy · 10 months

Text

Part 1 - The Ghost and the Stranger

With a bar of soap in one hand and a pair of trousers in the other, Magnolia sank her hands into the hot water and begin to scrub and lather the material against the textured tin of the wash board.

She plunged and scrubbed the thin cotton chemise she'd been given on her wedding day by her mother. Next was a pair of Hollis' wool socks that had so much sweat and dirt on them they could nearly stand on their own. She grimaced and chucked it into the tub.

The whinny of a horse caught her attention from the front of the house. She stood and quickly wiped her hands on the skirts of her dress, then grabbed her pistol and started around the house.

"State your name!" she shouted to the stranger from behind the mesquite tree, her pistol in hand and finger on the trigger.

"Howdy, Ms. Brannon." the stranger called out from on top of his horse. She had to squint against the afternoon sun to make out the face of a man.

She cocked the pistol and a familiar metallic click sounded as the bullet entered the chamber.

"I said state your name or I'll blow your head clean off your shoulders, mister!"

"Woh, I don't mean no harm....I- I was just looking for the man of the house."

Through the leaves of the tree, she saw him shift in the saddle and grimace, like there was something about him that was hurt. She wasn't risking moving closer to him but something made her step aside from the leaves to get a good look at his face.

"He aint' here." Magnolia said through grit teeth.

The stranger shifted again and his horse whinnied, antsy and frustrated that they were standing still.

"I apologize, ma'am. This is the Brannon homestead, ain't it?"

"You sure got a lot of questions for someone who's got a gun pointed at 'em" she snarled. " I'm going to give you to the count of 3..."

"Name's Brannon. Hollis Brannon, ma'am." the stranger sputtered.

It made sense at that moment. The jawline, the vacant hazel eyes.

"You- you're, Jake's brother?" she manage to breathe out, chest tight and squeezing with every second that passed. She felt violently ill in that moment.

"Yep, his kid brother. Ya see, I was coming to ta-." he reached down towards the revolver on his hip and she fired a shot into the bramble to his left in defense.

"Shit!"

The horse bucked at the sound of gunfire and knocked the man onto the dirt with a thud, then took off like lightning down the road that trailed down to the river nearby.

She closed the distance between them fast. And then there he was, hat in the dirt, looking just like her late husband did 10 years ago. He clutched his right side where his shirt was plastered to his skin, wet and shiny with blood.

"I didn't aim for you." Her brow furrowed.

"Got shot on the road to Brindleton Bay." he winced, trying to sit up, then flopped back onto the dust with a thud.

"Aren't you a popular feller?"

She studied him for a moment, a ghost of her past come back to haunt her in the form of her late husband's brother. After a quick assessment, she knew he'd be too weak to try anything stupid, and she looped his arm around her neck to help him stand.

"My horse." he croaked, lips dry from days riding under the sun.

"He'll be aight. There's a river just down there. I'll go find him in a second. We need to get you on the porch."

"I don't want to impose..." he groaned between heavy steps and arms sagging against her shoulders and neck.

"It's a little late for that, now, isn't it?"

#trigger warning: violence/gun #trigger warning: death #brannon legacy #the brannon homestead #part 1-ghost and the stranger #ts4 gameply #ts4 story #ts4 simblr #ts4 historical simblrs4 screenies #thebrannonlegacy

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twola · 11 months

Note

Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

taglist: @pinkiemme, @redwritr, @mykneeshurt, @bimbo-dollz

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead fandom #rdr2 #twolafic #tumblr prompt #red dead smut #arthur morgan x reader

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part I: tumbleweed

originally posted on 14 february 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: you're running from the law and stealing your way across the country. What happens when you meet a man who offers you kindness in an ever bleak world?

a/n: new series! Also happy valentines day! This is a little galentines gift for @.margowritesthings . I debated how and when to post this for a while now but here we are!

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: margofiore, woman-with-no-name, mrsarthurmorgan7, tillith, luvliewriting (you were all tagged in the original post, I didn't wanna blow up your tags <3)

The Tumbleweed Saloon is loud tonight, bustling with drunk fellers looking for a good time, and others looking to drown their sorrows. You’re the only woman in the saloon not for hire. It’s obvious, your dirty jeans and work shirt signal as much, but it hasn’t stopped the men from eyeing you with greed and asking for a price. Each of them receives a little something for their questions; One left the saloon with a black eye, another left with a slice in his arm from his advances. They all got what they deserved. Now onto what you deserve.

“Another whiskey.” You order, tossing two shining quarters down onto the old worn bar. The barkeep ignores the thirsty cries of the men beside you, knowing what will happen if he doesn’t get you your drink. You’re much smaller than them, but you can put up a hell of a fight, winning every time. The bartender, a local man with a dark handlebar mustache and a big hat, grabs the finer alcohol from the shelf underneath the bar. The golden liquid pours downwards, swirling in your glass until it is full once again. The bartender slides your shot down the length of the bar, and just as you catch it in your palm, a man slides into an open spot next to you. He’s big, standing over six feet tall with broad, sculpted shoulders. He’d be difficult to knock on his ass, but luckily he hasn’t come to bother you. Hell, he hasn't even noticed you yet. He’s turned slightly away from you, talking to a big, greasy lookin’ feller with a raspy voice. Pleased that the men aren't bugging you, for once, you turn back to your drink, slamming back the shot and bringing it down to the counter with a loud clunk. You savor the burning warm sensation that the whiskey sends down your throat, letting yourself drown away your sorrows with the liquid. You can feel a slight buzz working through your system, as your head feels a little fuzzy and your body radiates with warmth. The big man standing next to you at the bar takes a step back, accidentally bumping into you. After a little trip, you steady yourself and then turn to the man with the heated glare. You’re just about to tell the big brute off when a glint of reflecting light catches your eye.

Sticking out of the pocket of the larger man beside you is a platinum pocket watch, reflecting the light at the perfect angle to catch your eyes. Well shit, the day just got a whole lot better for you. His black jeans held up by fancy leather suspenders have a decent sized pocket, and the watchchain pokes out just enough for you to grab it. He won't notice if you do. You’ve become a master at this. Oftentimes pickpocketing poor, unsuspecting strangers is the only way for you to get money. You’re on the run after all, you can't just go pick up a job in town.

Perhaps it's the whiskey swirling through your system, loosening your limbs and your thoughts, but you get a sudden burst of courage, slipping your hand towards the man’s pocket. Typically you would never rob a man of this caliber. You stick to weaker men, smaller men without revolvers strapped to their belt. But something in you wants to take it, wants to rob this man and boast of the good steal from a gunslinger. A platinum pocket watch would keep you on your feet for a while. You could rent a room at the saloon and stock up on canned goods. Hell you could buy a cheap horse. You’ve been needing one ever since the lawmen shot down your mare Flower. She was a hell of an animal, mane and coat as red as a flame, and a heart of gold. She was your partner, your best friend. You haven’t had the heart to replace her since she passed, but you know that you can't rely on walking and sneaking onto trains for transportation forever.

Confident with your decision, you very carefully sneak your supple fingers into the man’s back pocket. The sounds of the bar fall away as you steady your breathing, focusing entirely on being as quiet and gentle as possible. You barely brush the denim of his jeans, keeping a close eye on the back of his head before you feel the cool metal of the chain. He hasn’t noticed. You’re fine. He’s talking to the other man, laughing and joking about something as you pull the chain up until the watch is free from his jeans. With a quiet breath of relief, you slip it into your vest pocket. Relief washes over you, and your hyperfocus falls away, letting the sounds of the saloon rush back to your ears. That is, until a large hand grabs your wrist, squeezing it so tight that the bones feel like they're cracking. You gasp at his grip on you. The hand belongs to the larger man, he’s still not facing you, but he's extended his arm behind his back just enough to grab your wrist.

“You best put that back, Mister.” He growls, drawl deep and southern, rumbling through the room. Because he hasn’t turned around yet, he assumes you’re a man. He’s a bastard and he won’t let you go. You’ve garnered the attention of a few drunkards by now, especially as you futilely try to pull your arm back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, “Now let go of me!!” You yell, pissed off at your failure and regretting your decision to cross this man.

The man's eyebrows draw together at your voice, and he turns around to face you. He was not expecting it to be a lady stealing from him. Especially not in a town as rough as Tumbleweed. But regardless, that's his watch. And he’s getting it back. He comes inches away from your face, looking straight into your eyes with the most threatening look you’ve ever seen. Despite your racing pulse, which he can surely feel, you straighten your shoulders to meet his stance.

“Put. It. Back.” The man growls again. A deep scowl plays out on his face and you kick yourself for ever thinking you could rob him. But you need the watch. For a second you think over your options. Well, he’s a man in a saloon. There’s one sure as shit method to get your way, feigning ignorance. You can probably cry your way out of this one, make up some sob story and get off easy.

“I- I’m really sorry, mister. It’s just… Well, I’ve been real hard up for money.” You whimper, tears pooling in your eyes as you peek up to him with the best puppy dog eyes you can manage.

He looks you over for a second, scowling. His eyes are an enchanting mixture of green and blue, greatly contrasting his tan skin. Subtle crows feet outline his eyes and a scar rests on his chin, long since healed. His nose has been broken, but those eyes. Everything about this man speaks of a rough life, of hatred, cruelty, and being hurt, but those blues… there's something deeper there.

“I ain’t fallin’ for that, lady. Now give it back.” He’s getting rather irritated, and his grip on your arm tightens.

Oh well, you’re not sweet talkin’ your way out of this one..

“You’re not fallin’? Really?” You chuckle, leaning in before swiping your leg out as hard as you can and undercutting his ankles. You swipe his legs out from underneath him, and even though you’d love to see the look on his face when he hits the floor, you waste no time, turning and running towards the saloon doors. The pocket watch is still in your vest, and you clutch the material in an effort to not lose it. Multiple people are shoved out of the way as you beeline for the door, pushing it open and searching your surroundings. It's dark out, not many people are in the street, but a line of horses are hitched to the wooden posts in front of the saloon. You need something fast and you need it now. Scanning down the line of horses quickly, you spot a chestnut mare. She’s a little more skittish than you would like, pawing at the ground with her hooves and whinnying loudly into the night, but you can tell she’s bred to be quick with lots of stamina.

“Sorry, your man ain’t comin for you, just me now.” You whisper, jogging towards the mare and throwing yourself up into the saddle. It's a fine saddle. Expensive, hand-tooled leather with a saddle tree custom fit for this mare. It's probably worth over $500, which boggles your mind. The owner of the mare must be tall, as you can’t reach the stirrups, but you spur her on anyway, galloping as fast as you can ride away from Tumbleweed. You don’t even know what direction you’re going in, you’re just getting away. The few little oil lights around the town get smaller and smaller until they dissipate into nothingness behind you. You get farther and farther away, pushing until you're well away from the town. It would take an expert tracker to find you.

The red mare slows into a nervous canter as you whoa her, going up a little hill of orange and red rocks. You’re somewhere not far past Benedict Point, up on a flat topped landscape that you have no name for. It’ll work for the night. There's good visibility to the roads below, so if he follows you, you can spot him.

After hopping down from the mare, the first thing you do is untie her saddle cinches and gently place the saddle down onto the ground. Luckily, it's equipped with a bedroll and saddle bag as well, but you'll get to that later. You check the mare’s sweat marks, and are pleased to find that despite her hot breaths, she’s not overheated from the run. She was bred for this, so it shouldn’t surprise you, but you’ve never had the pleasure of being around a horse as high quality and presumably expensive as her. You take her bridle off, tossing it to the ground and replacing it with a rope halter that you’d found on the saddle, that way she can’t get away. As you tighten the coarse rope, the mare pins her ears at you, lifting her top lip in a show of aggression and annoyance.

“Yeah, I know. I took you from your man, well he shoulda kept a better eye on you. Anyone dumb enough to leave an animal like you hitched outside instead of droppin’ you off in the stable, doesn’t deserve you.”

You roll out the thick blue bedroll in front of the saddle on the ground so that you can use the saddle as a pillow before resting down on it. Eyeing the red mare, you chuckle. It's clear that she’s been exceptionally well cared for. Her coat shines like polished copper, indicating that someone brushes her very regularly. You can’t see her ribs, instead you can see thick, powerful muscles; someone is working this horse daily. She’s been shown an impeccable amount of physical care but the softness to her eyes, along with her fiery attitude show you that she has been shown love and companionship as well, not just treated as a means for transportation, but a partner. Tears well up in your eyes as you think about the fate of your horse Meg, but you brush them away, grabbing the saddle bag and placing it in your lap. Crickets and cicadas chirp in the night, providing a calm sensation as you lift the leather flap. The first thing you see is some clothes, a few outfits for different types of weather, a kit to make a tent, a wad of cash and some canned food. Well shit… you got lucky.

You grab one of the metal cans, leaning back against the saddle to look up at the stars while you open the can with your knife. It's peaches, and you smile at the treat. Peaches aren't so cheap, and typically you find yourself eatin’ offal just to get by. You pop them into your mouth one at a time, savoring the thick, sweet juice as you go. You offer one to the mare, but she is wholly uninterested in you, keeping her head down to graze on the few little weeds that sprout through the rocks. After the can is completely gone, you toss it aside and lay down, resting your head on the seat of the saddle. You reach into your pocket, pulling out the expensive watch and looking it over for a moment before returning it to your vest.

The stars shine brightly, casting the ground in a soft light. A few constellations can be made out, and you think of your mother as you try to name them.

Sleep comes easily, the quiet call of animals in the night soothes you, the rustle of wind and the low noises that the mare makes, walking around the camp and slowly plucking up the bits of grass. It's entirely peaceful. That is until you wake up completely startled by the sound of galloping hooves approaching you. You jolt up, unprepared but ready to start throwing fists. A buckskin horse, weak and exhausted from running approaches you with a man on its back.

“First my watch and then you stole my goddamn horse?! The hells the matter with you, madwoman?!” He yells.

It’s the man from the bar. You take a few steps back as he jumps down from the buckskin. You’re sure that he’s going to storm over here and kill you. Maybe he’ll shoot you, or maybe he’ll push you off the cliff’s edge. You reach for your knife, but hesitate when he stomps over to his mare instead of you.

“Well I didn’t know it was yours. Plus, if this is your horse, then where in the hell did you get that one?” You bite, confused as to whether or not you can trust this stranger. A black hat obscures his eyes from you as he saddles up his mare. The man chuckles, deep in his chest before turning to you.

“Got me there, I stole it.”

You squint your eyes, taking in his sarcasm and the calm, sarcastic demeanor that he has taken on. A little unsure of yourself, you sit down on the dirt. If you need to, you can grab your knife, but if he was going to hurt you, he would have already.

“So you’re no better than me. We’re both thieves.” You say, ready to pull your knife out and gut this man if he approaches you.

“No, I ain’t no better than you… I ain’t knockin’ fellers down in a saloon though, put me right on my ass.” He chuckles, working on the straps to his mares saddle.

That gets a laugh out of you. After securing the saddle, he steps over a few feet from you and sits down in the dirt. He sees the way your hand rests on the handle of your blade, leaving it sheathed but ready to pull out. But he doesn’t plan on pushing you. He pulls out a cigarette and places it between his lips before striking a match against the bottom of his boot.

“Why you out here by yourself anyway? Ain’t safe out here, especially not in these parts.” He asks, bringing the lit match up to his lips and igniting the cigarette. You shuffle, adjusting your legs to bring your knees to your chin. Dangerous out here? Whatever's out here should be afraid of you.

“I'm perfectly capable of takin’ care of myself.” You hiss, more forward than intended. At this, he smiles, raising his hands into the air in mock surrender. A puff of smoke leaves his lips as he talks.

“Yeah, that you is…”

Puffs of smoke color the air gray instead of black, swirling up and away until they disappear in the night. You study him again, taking note of the two fully decorated revolvers on his hips, the worn state of his boots, and his expensive outfit. His horse was packed for travel, and the other man he was with at the bar shared a similar look. Puzzle pieces click together in your head and it all makes sense.

“You a wanted man, mister?” You ask, resting your chin on your knees, ignoring your brain which is screaming for you to grab a horse and run.

The man before you picks up a small twig in front of him, toying with it and breaking it into pieces before looking up to meet your eyes. You have to avert yours from his blue-green gaze, you know if you look, you’ll stare.

“You a wanted woman?” He projects.

The fact that he diverted your question answers itself. He is a wanted man. You can't find a good enough reason to completely lie, even though you feel it would be a safer option.

“Yeah… I didn’t do it though.” You lie, averting his gaze as you pull on your boot straps.

“Sure ya didn’t,” He laughs, “now what they want ya for?”

You feel the emotions bubble up in your chest, but you shove them down. You won't allow this stranger to see you cry.

“Killin’ a feller…” You whisper

The man whistles lightly, eyebrows raised as he takes in your form. You? Killing someone? He can see it, honestly.

“What’d the bastard do?” He asks patiently, still playing with the stick.

“He killed my father, the only person I had left,” Your jaw sets and you feel that familiar rage come over you as you tighten your grip on your knife handle. “and so I killed him for it.”

His eyes fall a little, and he nods his head.

“So he deserved it then.”

Wanting to change the subject from your first account of manslaughter, quite the uncomfortable topic, you ask this stranger about his own.

“And you? What are you wanted for?” You ask quietly. The man laughs a little, bringing his hand up to run over his beard.

“Shit, darlin’. There ain’t much I'm not wanted f-” He begins, but you scowl, cutting him off with your bite.

“I’m not your darlin.” You growl, scowling up at the stranger with an annoyance beyond anything he’s seen. He smiles at your constant bickering and attitude. You are something else.

“Yeah I know.” he chuckles.

It grows quiet, a bit uncomfortably so. You’re not sure what happens now. Is he going to leave you here and take both horses? You wont make the walk back to Tumbleweed, not through the desert. You’re about to ask the plan when he speaks up.

“You need a place to stay?” He asks, eyes soft on yours. There's a wrinkle in between your eyebrows from concentration and confusion as you think over his offer. Surely he wants something out of this. You can’t trust him, you’ve known him all of five minutes.

“Why? You want me to go back with you? What, keep me safe so I can lay with you as a payment?” You hiss, feeling threatened and cornered. Once again you grip onto your hunting knife. The stranger runs a hand over his face, seemingly offended by your assumption. His brows draw together and he looks kind of pissed off.

“Jesus- No!” He yells, pinching the bridge of his nose before gesturing to you with his hand.

“Got a camp, a group of people. There’s a kid, older folk, women. We ain’t good men, but we ain’t exactly bad neither.” He says, resting his hands on his gun belt as he awaits your response. You’re nothing short of shell shocked. You met this man ten minutes ago, you don’t even know his name, and he's invited you to his camp. But the one thing ringing in your head is the child. How bad can a group truly be if they’re taking care of a child?

“There’s a kid?” You ask, so quiet that it seems foreign. Shelter would be wonderful, and real food. But you’re afraid for your safety.

“Yeah, little Jack.” The stranger chuckles, seemingly looking back on a specific memory.

Your eyes fall down to your lap and you play with your fingers, utterly confused by the choice he’s given you. Would it be worth it? To get off the roads? He’s watching you, looking over the emotions playing out on your face, waiting for a response. He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, and speaks up.

“You could stay for a while, hide out from the law and get back on your feet. Camp’s a ways away, closer to Blackwater than here, but we could be there by tomorrow.” He says, gauging your reaction. You bite your cheek, playing over the pros and cons in your head.

“Why are you helpin’ me?” You ask sincerely. Kindness is a rarity, something that you’re not used to. In fact you’ve built walls around your heart to protect yourself from the unkind world, and the people that inhabit it.

“I've been on my own before, beggin’ in the streets, sleepin’ in the woods with no bedroll or nothin’. Was a little younger than you back then, it's no way to live. Someone took me in when I needed it. And if he didn’t I'd be dead by now. Figured you deserve the same.” He says, keeping his eyes on you the entire time.

Nothing can be heard but the slow grazing of horses as you think. You need to get out of the wilderness, you need to get back on your feet. But joining a group of strangers? It’s risky. The man before you hasn’t hurt you. He easily could have killed you as soon as he rode up here. With a small scowl, you reach your resolve.

“Alright… I’ll go. But if anyone tries anything, I'll kill em.” You mumble, standing up and dusting your knees off. He looks to you with sincerity, offering you a little nod in understanding.

“It ain’t a trap.” He says, mounting up into the saddle.

“Say, what's your name, anyway?” He asks, adjusting himself on the red mare as you climb onto the buckskin. You tell him, and he thinks over your name for a moment.

“You?” You ask.

“Names' Arthur Morgan.” He says, spurring his horse back towards the road.

“Well, Arthur Morgan, I figured you should know that this little agreement doesn’t mean you’re getting this watch back.” You yell up to Arthur, galloping after him on the poor buckskin and tapping the pocket of your vest. Arthur genuinely laughs, turning around to yell back.

“Yeah well you can keep it. I stole it anyway.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2

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