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roseghoul26 · 3 months

Text

Part 1

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

“C’mon, we’re heading out. And make sure you bring that rifle.”

Arthur’s voice caused you to look up from polishing said rifle, the freshly cleaned barrel glinting in the afternoon sun. Before you stood the cowboy, one hand resting casually on his gun belt, the other rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his.

Narrowing your eyebrows, you stood, strapping the gun across your back. “You’re worried,” you stated, and you watched his movement halt. “Why?”

“Dutch says… well how’d you know that? I ain’t even said anything yet.”

“You don’t need to say anything, cowboy. But that’s beside the point. Dutch says…?” You gestured for him to continue.

You swore you heard him mutter something about you being a damn witch before he turned around, leading you to where the horses were hitched at the front of your camp. The new camp, Clemens Point, was starting to grow on you, even with all the bugs and coyotes around. The access to water was nice, and it was close enough to cities to not be a burden to go to, but far enough away from big populaces to live an outlaw lifestyle. As the two of you walked, Arthur began explaining the new plan that Dutch had roped you two into.

“Pearson said he met some O’Driscolls, who claim Colm is willing to ‘negotiate peace’ with Dutch.” Arthur sounded as convinced as you felt.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I swear to you. Don’t know what’s gonna come from it, but it’s a start.”

“You really believe Colm’ll just stop fighting Dutch?”

“Not really. But Micah got Dutch convinced he would, and crazier things have happened…” For the second time, you watched him rub the back of his neck.

“You think it’s a trap, don’t you?”

“I’d be a fool not to.”

By this time you had reached your horses, yours a large black and white war horse, his a brown Appaloosa.You went to go pick up your saddle which lay across the hitching post, but when your hands made contact with the leather, Arthur playfully swatted your hands away, picking the saddle up himself, heaving it up and over the horse with a light grunt. He had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, allowing you to fully appreciate his muscular forearms as he lifted with ease.

“Hey-” you began, before getting silenced with a look from the cowboy.

After quickly securing the saddle, he held out his hand expectantly, slightly tipping himself downward in a mock bow. A cheeky smirk adorned his face. “Your ride is ready, princess.”

“I ain’t no princess,” you scoffed, but you still took his hand gingerly, unable to stop a faint smile from growing on your own face, and you stepped into one of the stirrups, using Arthur's hand to help bring your body fully over the saddle.

His hand still held yours as he responded. “No you ain’t,” his gaze, which was playful, turned into something fonder and gentler, a look you’ve seen him give you time and time again. “You’re something better.”

Leaning down until you were almost at eye level with him, you swore you felt him squeeze your hand ever so tighter, and you spoke low, slightly husky. “And what would that be, Arthur Morgan?”

His eyes widened, and you watched his eyes flick up and down your face, trying to determine if your flirtatious tone was a joke or not. A few seconds passed before he opened his mouth to respond. “You’re-”

“C’mon lovebirds! Hurry up!” Micah’s shouting broke whatever trance the two of you had been in, and you felt Arthur quickly drop your hand like it was scalding, stepping back to create an appropriate amount of space between the two of you. A light dusting of pink covered both of your faces, his blue eyes looking everywhere but you, and a quick scan of the camp told you that Micah wasn’t the only one watching the two of you: Javier and Charles shared a look, the hunter laughing gently as the other shook his head; Tilly and Mary-Beth were furiously whispering to each other, glancing over at the two of you every other second.

Clearing your throat, you straightened back up, urging your horse forward as Arthur mounted his, catching up to Micah and Dutch who sat waiting at the entrance to camp. A few seconds later you heard Arthur approach, settling at your right side. “Ready?” Dutch asked, turning and leaving once receiving nods from you and the others. Following suit with Dutch and Micah in the lead, you settled in for the ride.

Glancing over to the cowboy to your right, you watched him chat with Dutch, not paying attention to the conversation as you took in the man who has plagued every thought in your brain for the last two years. It was no secret you were head-over-heels for Arthur; you had been for at least the past two years. The two of you had been friends for at least four years at this point, becoming close when you joined the gang after a partially-successful pickpocket attempt against Dutch (you had managed to snag his gold pocket watch, but were subsequently caught a few minutes later once he realized). Despite that, he had offered you a place with the gang. You accepted, partially because you needed money, a place to sleep, and could possibly make friends, but you also joined because you finally had a place to put your niche talents to use.

Arthur and you became close quickly, and you worked together well, meaning you were often sent out together for jobs. It was a platonic relationship, but the two of you always danced the line of platonic and romantic, flirty remarks being tossed around wildly. It wasn’t until the last year or two where you felt yourself start to actually fall in love with the cowboy, and the flirting wasn’t helping. It was the age old tale of falling for your best friend, and feeling too afraid to say anything in case it wasn’t reciprocated, possibly ruining said friendship.

It wasn’t hard to fall for him. For all the hard front he puts up, he has a kind heart, going out of his way to help folks (he usually preferred when a reward was offered, but would do things begrudgingly if none was presented). He was loyal, staying by Dutch’s side through thick and thin, and had humor drier than a desert. And he wasn’t bad on the eyes either, a thinker body built from years of labor, skin tanned and scars from years in the wild and sun. Eyes bluer than the ocean, you found yourself always drowning in their depths.

You hadn’t realized you had been staring at him until you heard him say your name, slightly loud, as if he had been trying to get your attention for a bit. He laughed, “I asked, ‘he treating you well?’”

When you gave him a confused look, he pointed downwards to your horse, which Arthur had bought for you a few weeks ago after your previous horse was shot by some Lemoyne Raiders. “He is,” you stroked his mane affectionately, earning you a content huff from the beast. “Thank you again, Arthur.”

“It’s nothing, really. You named him yet?”

“I have. You ever read Charles Dickens?”

“Ain’t much of a reader,” he responded.

“His name is Tiny Tim, from A Cristmas Carol. My mom would read it every year ‘round Christmas time.”

“Tiny Tim? There ain’t nothing tiny ‘bout that beast!”

“That’s what’s funny!” You laughed, and Arthur just shook his head, trying and failing to hide his own laughter.

“Yer cute,” he said, nonchalantly, like he had no idea he was actually saying it. You just stared at him, caught off guard by his seemingly very genuine statement. Now it was his turn to be confused, and he cocked his head to side, glancing at you quizzically.

Dutch’s voice had snapped your gazes back forward, meeting his eyes as he turned to talk. “You know, I’ve been fighting Colm for so long now… I can barely remember a time when it was different.”

The man to your right finally looked away from you, his expression harding as he responded. “And you’re still fighting him now, make no mistake of that.”

“Here he goes…” Micah began. “Doubting Thomas… is there any plan you ain’t sour on?”

“Maybe you’re right. I’m just nervous. Let’s not waste any more lives needlessly.”

“I ain’t costing lives here… I’m saving them. What did you say, we had Pinkertons coming after us?”

“Because of Blackwater,” you chimed in.

Micah continued, “And Leviticus Cornwall and his private army! Then… who knows when this local hillbilly thing will come to a head, hm? Can we really afford to be fighting on all these fronts, and O’Driscoll?”

The group was silent for a moment, all chewing on the words spoken by the blonde man.

“There is wisdom in that,” Dutch finally said.

“For once,” you muttered, thinking you were unheard until you heard a chuckle from your right.

“Oh, I hope so, gentlemen, but… like I said, I’m nervous.”

“Yeah, me too,” you added. “Feels too good to be true.”

Now it was Micah’s turn to shift around his saddle to face you. “Look, you ain’t even going to be the one in danger… we’ll get on over there… find a nice perch for you to settle your pretty self into… you got that rifle, don’t you?”

Choosing to ignore that one particular comment of his, you tapped the strap across the shoulder that held your rolling block rifle, one of your most prized possessions. “Never leave without it,” you said, failing to notice the way that Arthur glared daggers into Micah, who continued talking.

“Then me, Dutch, and Arthur walk right into the lion’s den, with you to cover us.”

“Just stay calm, unless I give you a reason not to,” you said, a growing tension building inside you.

Dutch gave you a reassuring smile.“Oh, we’ll be fine. We’ve got you.”

“I will do my best.”

“Oh, my dear, with you watching over me, I would walk into hell itself.”

“As would I,” Micah added.

You weren’t doubtful of your abilities as a sharpshooter, but the praise coming from the man you respected, and Micah, helped bolster your confidence, and you felt yourself sitting up straighter as you rode. “You don’t need me to tell you how great you are,” Arthur said, pausing a moment before continuing. “But I’m gonna anyway. I would go anywhere if I knew you was watching over me.”

“Now y’all are putting too much pressure on me,” you joked, trying to clear the comforting ache in your chest from Arthur’s words. “Gonna give me performance anxiety.”

“Arthur knows a thing or two ‘bout that!”

“Micah, I swear-” he growled, and you and Dutch shared glances before breaking into laughter, the tension building up with the upcoming meeting dissipating momentarily.

The next few minutes of riding were in comfortable silence, before Micah halted suddenly as you reached the base of the hills, the rest of you skidding to a halt behind him. “Hey, up there, men on the ridge.”

Glancing up, you indeed saw four men atop the ridge, all four on horses, looking down on your group. You watched Dutch place a hand on his gun, already ready for things to go wrong. “O’Driscolls, from the look of them.”

“I don’t like having eyes on us.” Arthur grumbled.

“We’re close,” Micah pointed to you. “You’ll be the eyes soon enough.”

Nodding, you swung your rifle around so it sat in your hands. “Let’s go.”

The group started back up again, riding around and up the hill. That previously dissipated tension was back, and you saw the way that Arthur’s jaw clenched as he rode. “Maybe he’s right, Dutch. Maybe I have pushed too hard. Got us into situations that… could have been safer. I just… I see all these mouths we got to feed, and I… I dream too big. Caring too much, that’s my problem.”

“The hell you on about, Micah?” You asked, Arthur nodding in agreement. The men in front both ignored you.

“Caring too much?” Dutch scoffed. “There’s no such thing.”

After giving you a look that screamed confusion, Arthur exclaimed “This is horse shit. From both of you!”

“It might be! Micah might be full of shit. Colm O’Driscoll might be full of shit. The promise of this great nation, men create equal, liberty and justice for all… that might be nonsense too. But it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in. Can’t you see that, friend?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try. All I ask is you try.”

Finally reaching your destination, you all halted again, and you watched Micah turn around so he was face-to-face with you. “Alright, princess,” he looked directly at Arthur, jesting at the earlier interaction he interrupted, before looking back to you. “You’re gonna peel off up ahead. We’ll be meeting down on the plane. Find a spot just above us where you can keep an eye on things.”

“Alright, alright.” You responded, getting ready to leave before Arthur stopped you.

“However this shakes out, let’s aim to meet back at the fork in the road afterwards.”

“Got it. Behave yourselves, boys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you heard Dutch respond before him and Micah took off toward the plane. Again, you turned to leave, but you heard your name leave Arthur’s mouth.

Glancing at him, you gave him an easy smile, before chuckling lightly. “Better get going cowboy. They’re gonna start without you.”

Your laugh died in your throat as you saw a rather serious Arthur before you, an almost desperate look in his eyes. “Be careful.” He inhaled shakily. “Please.”

“I- I will,” your answer sounded more like a question. “But it’s not me you should be worried about. I’m not going into the ‘lion’s den’, as Micah put it. I’ll be fine.”

“Just promise me if things go wrong, you’ll get the hell out of here.”

“You know I can’t promise that. But for you, I’ll certainly try.”

Knowing that was the best he was going to get from you, he just shook his head, and began to make his way toward the others. “I’ll see ya later, princess.”

Turning so he couldn’t see your flustered state, you waved him away, laughing as you heard Micah shout hurry up, loverboy. Reaching the top of the hill, you dismounted, hitching your horse to a nearby dead tree, and as crouched at the edge, you watched through the scope of your rifle as the men waited for the O’Driscolls to arrive.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You should’ve known something was wrong when you only saw three men on the plane.

It wasn’t the fact that one of these men was Colm himself, nor was it the fact that each of these men were armed and dangerous, ready to fire at a single wrong move from Dutch. With you watching from above, and Micah and Arthur both backing Dutch from behind, you had no doubt which side would win in a shootout.

No, it was the fact that you remembered there being four O’Driscolls waiting atop the hill as you all approached.

At the time, as you crouched on your perch, keeping eye on the “negotiation” happening between the two gangs, you hadn’t been worried, figuring they had a person on watch as well. You should’ve looked a little harder, could’ve scanned the nearby hills and see that the fourth O’Driscoll was nowhere to be found. Maybe if you’d have done this, you wouldn’t be hung upside down in Colm’s basement, a nasty gunshot wound in your left shoulder.

The footsteps had approached quickly, and the butt of the rifle was even quicker, striking you across the face with a sickening crack. Everything went black, and you barely remember waking up strung across the back of a horse for a few moments before falling back into unconsciousness.

You remember waking up again, and you were able to escape for a moment before one O’Driscoll was able to get you with a rope, causing you to eat shit, your head slamming against the forest floor. They had laughed to each other, before one of them held their gun up to your shoulder, an agonizing blast and a flash of white light the last thing you saw before darkness took over again.

Now here you were, strung upside down, the blood currently rushing to your brain making it pound harder. Everything hurts, the small puddle of blood beneath you indicative of the state of your body. You’d lost track of how long you’d been here; everything became a blur after the first day.

Colm had yet to make an appearance, his men being the ones to torture you. It was the same few men each time. They alternated from keeping you upside down to having you tied down to a chair, to having you hanging by chains that pulled at your shoulder, aggravating your wounds even further. But they never asked many questions, instead finding their answers in their knives and pokers that they carved into your flesh.

Day after day you searched for means of escape, coming up fruitless each time; his men were surprisingly well trained, making sure to not leave anything in range of you that could be used as a tool or weapon.

However, they wanted you alive, for whatever reason. Crude first aid had been applied to your wounds, preventing infection and disease from killing you off, but the one at your shoulder continued to be the worse. Occasionally they would give you water and stale food, messily hand fed by one of the men. Despite that, every time you heard the cellar door open, you waited with bated breath for the final blow, but it never came.

The cellar they kept you in was small, musty, and lit by a single candle on a table to your right, just out of reach from where you hung. A few scraps of cloth lay on the table, covered in crimson, and a single chair sat tucked in the corner, also covered in blood.

Trying to find any sort of comfort, you tried sitting up a bit, your abs screaming out as you managed to lift yourself up a few inches, and some of the blood returned to the rest of your body. Dizzy, you shut your eyes, letting yourself flop back down, the chains creaking above you.

The chains were so loud that you almost failed to hear the squeak of the cellar doors opening, heavy footsteps coming closer and closer to you. Opening one of your eyes, you saw an unfamiliar silhouette approaching, until you heard him speak your name. “It’s good to see ya.” He said, stepping fully into the cellar, the candlelight allowing you to see him fully.

“Hello, Colm,” your voice was hoarse from screaming, and you watched the greasy man step closer, a plate of food in one hand, some kind of utensil in the other. Finally opening both eyes, you watched him place his things down on the table, the clatter of the plate barely audible over your own heartbeat. You must’ve blacked out for a moment, because before you knew it a bolt of pain tore through your body and you cried out, Colm stepping back from you after pressing his hand hard into your shoulder.

He sneered down at you, grimy yellow teeth flashing. “How’s the wound?”

Gritting your teeth, you stared down the leader of the O’Driscolls with as much venom as you could muster, willing back the tears of pain. “Can’t feel it.”

“Whatever makes ya feel better,” he stalked over to his food, turning his back to you as he ate. “ Now, tell me…” he spoke through mouthfuls of food, “fine gun like you… why you still running around with old Dutch? Could come ride with me and make real money.”

“You know it ain’t about the money, Colm.”

“That’s right… it’s Dutch’s famous charisma.” In a blur of movement, his food forgotten, he kicked you square in the chest, knocking the wind out of you. Your body swung from the chains, which groaned and creaked at the movement. All you could let out was a soft wheeze, your vision going double. “You killed a whole punch of my boys… at Six Point Cabin.”

So why haven’t you killed me yet? You smirked, at least the best you could, your teeth stained red, lip splitting. “One of your own took us there. Bastards had it comin’.”

The click of a gun and the feeling of cold metal against your head made your wish you kept your mouth shut. The final blow was coming at the hands of Colm. Trying to swallow, your throat too dry to do so, you put on a brave face, even though internally you were terrified. There was so much you had left to do, so much left to tell. This wasn’t where your story ended, right?

Closing your eyes, you tried to take deep breaths, fighting down the panic bubbling inside. Do not show him you’re afraid, you thought. Don’t give him the satisfaction of you being afraid in your last moments.

And you waited.

And waited.

You waited until you felt the barrel of the gun slowly pull away, and your eyes shot open, confused. “Yer lucky I need you alive,” Colm snarled, striking you across the face before returning his pistol to its holster, running a hand over his face while circling your body like a vulture. “Law want’s ya alive. All of ya.”

“Best of luck with that, sayin’ you only got one of us.”

“For now.”

“You planning on raiding us?” Colm didn’t respond. “You can tell me. Not leaving here soon anyway.”

“Nah,” Colm began. “Ain’t gotta go to that much trouble to round you up. We lure an angry Arthur in to rescue ya… Dutch and the others following… and grab all of ya and hand ya in… then disappear.”

“So you only met with them to grab me?”

“Of course…” Colm chuckled. “He’s gonna be so mad. He gonna come raging over here… and a whole lot of ya… and the law’ll be waiting for him.” Sighing, he crouched down before you, his rancid breath overwhelming your senses. “Oh, I missed you.”

The first strike went to your gut.

The second went to your bad shoulder.

The third and final strike landed at your nose, blood spraying from the impact.

Groaning, you felt the warm liquid streaming from your nose, joining the puddle beneath you with a soft drip, drip, drip. Colm stood up, grabbing his plate with a huff, shaking out one of hands, his knuckles slightly busted from the strikes. He didn’t say anything as he left, stomping up the stairs loudly, the door slamming shut behind him.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, a newfound sense of urgency to escape coming over you, needing to stop Colm’s plan from coming to fruition. Glancing around, you looked again for something to help you escape. Unlike all the other times, however, something caught your eye on the table; whatever utensil Colm had brought down sat there, glinting gently in the light. Luckily for you, it seemed like Colm wasn’t as well trained as his men.

Slowly, you began to rock yourself back and forth, trying to build up enough momentum to reach it. Holding back noises of pain, you rocked, getting closer and closer with every swing, your fingers straining and you reached, and stretched, until finally it was in your grasp. You nearly cried with relief, and after glancing at the utensil in your hand, which was a two-pronged fork, you ceased your swinging, eventually coming to a full stop.

Hands shaking, using whatever scrap of strength you had left in your hands, you bent on of the prongs forward, creating a lockpick like instrument. Now it was time for the hard part, which was trying to reach the padlock that held the shackles around your feet, connecting you to the chains.

Every muscle in your body was begging you to stop, shaking as you slowly started to sit up, your core working overtime to get you up. All you had to do was just reach and disengage the lock. It took a few tries until you were finally able to get it in, and then-

Click.

You didn’t have any tie to brace yourself before you made contact with the floor, going face first into your own blood pool. Rolling on to your back, you let the world stop spinning before sitting up, glancing worriedly at the cellar door to see if anyone heard your commotion.

After no one barged in after a few moments, you began to stand up, your knees giving out as soon as you were upright. Stumbling, you practically fell into the table, nearly knocking over the candle in the process. Your arms were outstretched in front of you, bracing yourself against the table, and you saw a few droplets of blood from your nose hit the wood. Grimacing, you snatched a bloodied cloth from nearby, tearing a small amount off to block off the blood flow.

It was at this point that you really started feeling the gunshot wound in your shoulder. After a quick assessment, you realized it was still an open wound, but it was a clean shot, meaning you wouldn’t have to dig the bullet out of you. Eying both the metal fork in your hand and the candle on the table, you mentally steeled yourself for what you were about to do.

Dragging the chair up next to you and sitting, you heated up the metal instrument until it almost glowed, then before you could lose your nerve, you pressed it to the wound.

It wasn’t the pain that hit you first; it was the smell, which would forever be engraved in your mind. But after you clocked the smell, the pain hit you like a tidal wave. You couldn’t tell if you were screaming or not, but you continued to hold the device, waiting until you couldn’t see blood spurt out at every beat of your heart.

Groaning, you slumped your head on the table, feeling exhausted after putting yourself through that, but you had only a few seconds to recover before you heard the door open again. Turns out your cries were very much audible.

Pressing yourself against the wall, you heard someone begin to come down the stairs. “Hold on, I’ll be back in a minute,” you heard the stranger say. You recognized the voice; it was one of the torturers.

The man stood at the base of the stairs, dumbfounded, as he took in the empty shackles before him. “What the hell-” That was all he was able to get out before you pounced, the tool finding a home in his throat, and he crumpled to the floor, a small gurgling leaving him before he stilled. The man, unfortunately, was only armed with a knife, which you grabbed, holding it out defensively in front of you as you climbed the stairs. You had to move; it wouldn’t be long until his friends started looking for him.

You had almost reached the exit before two shadows approaching halted your movement, and you pressed yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Two men approached, neither of which you recognized. They were chatting as they patrolled, not really paying attention to their surroundings as they patrolled. A few tense minutes later, the figures retreated, and you dashed out as quickly as you could.

Taking in a breath of fresh air, you took in your surroundings: the two guards were to your left, their backs to you; a small shack was in front of you, and you saw some guns lying out; to your right you saw a horse hitching post, and you thanked the unseen forces of the universe that your horse was here; surrounding you were multiple houses, all you presumed were filled with O’Driscolls.

First, you needed a weapon. Then, you were getting the hell out of here.

Moving as quietly and quickly as you could, you kept low, keeping an eye out for any other O’Driscolls. Entering the small wood shack, you grabbed the first gun you saw, and you almost left before you saw a very familiar engraved barrel out the corner of your eye. There, sitting in a wooden crate were your weapons, including your prized rifle.

Swinging it over your shoulder, and securing your gun belt across your waist, you were actually starting to feel hopeful about your chances of survival. Keeping your stolen knife and your pistol out, you poked your head out the door, looking for any guards before taking off toward your horse, still trying to keep hidden.

Once you were close to the horses, you made your presence known, not wanting to spook them. Approaching your mount, you muttered softly, rubbing his neck affectionately. Immediately his eyes flew open, and he began rearing until he realized it was just you.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you, boy.”

Something told you he felt the same.

“Let’s go home.”

You were partially up your horse when you heard a commotion behind you. Whipping your head around, you saw a few O’Driscolls emerge from the various houses, guns out and pointed at you, shouting at you and each other. You had just managed to get on before the shots started going off, bullets whizzing past you as Tiny Tim took off like a bat out of hell, hooves barely hitting the ground as you soared across the plane.

You could barely make out anything around you, everything a blur as the wind whipped across your battered body, relishing the feel of fresh air before hearing footsteps behind you. Glancing behind, you saw four O’Driscolls in pursuit, firing wildly in an attempt to stop you.

Aiming behind you, you took a deep breath in, stilling yourself to the best of your ability, taking in each of your targets before squeezing the trigger.

In rapid succession, each man took a bullet to the chest, either stopping them or causing them to go flying off their horse. Within moments your pursuers were gone, leaving only you standing. After hearing no more shouting or hoofbeats, you figured it was safe to holster your weapon. Tiny Tim had slowed down some, a quick trot instead of a full out gallop.

The adrenaline from the last ten minutes was beginning to fade, your drooping eyes evident of your waning energy. Leaving forward, you leaned forward as best you could in your saddle, your arms wrapping loosely around your horses next for some security.

“C’mon TT, get us home.” You whispered, before your eyes closed at their own volition, your thoughts only of Arthur as you slept.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2

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vanderlesbian · 9 months

Text

rdr2 men as girl dads

arthur, charles, john, dutch, + hosea

technically gn reader, but some things may be interpreted as being more fem? you are the other parent of the child

arthur morgan

+ he would definitely go to the women in the gang (and you of course, but he'll be more shy about it) to ask them questions. "is this what you ladies like?" before he gives his daughter a gift.

+ he'll document basically her entire life in his journal; write entries about her biggest moments and their times together, and he'll draw her all the time. there will be pages that are just covered in drawings of you and your daughter.

+ the other gang members would tease arthur for being "so soft" around his daughter and he probably gets real flustered about it, but you think it's adorable how gentle he is with her.

+ she will make flower crowns or put flowers in arthur's hair and a lot of the time he'll forget about it, so he'll walk around camp or even go out riding with a braid and flowers in his hair.

+ of course, your daughter would have some kind of knowledge as to what the gang does, but arthur will still try to hide violence from her. he'll make up silly excuses as to how he gets cuts or bruises, and he tends to hide his guns when around her. hell, he won't even really smoke when in her presence.

+ arthur is very accepting, and that especially applies to your daughter. if she wants to travel the world, he'd support it. if she said she wanted to be a dinosaur, he'd try his best to help her achieve that. the only thing he would say no to is being a gunslinger.

+ arthur's daughter would be a girl constantly surrounded by love. i can imagine her being artistic and creative like her dad, with the ability to get along well with anyone she meets. she would also be very expressive and bold, feeling that she can be whatever she wants.

charles smith

+ crafts dolls and other toys for her!!

+ he'll take your daughter out on nature rides or walks and will teach her all about animals and their importance. especially when she's a baby; he just finds it comforting to have a little friend he can talk to, even if she doesn't respond.

+ charles would be SO protective of his daughter. he would definitely teach her important rules of survival and how to handle weapons because he believes she can take care of herself, but he also can't help but step in immediately when the smallest altercations happen.

+ he also knows how cruel the world can be, and he doesn't want his daughter experiencing any of that. he likes to keep everything pg around her; if micah or someone is being inappropriate around her, charles will get upset quickly.

+ you can learn a lot from children, and charles is well aware of that. he's such an attentive listener when your daughter speaks to him, and will act like everything she says is revolutionary. he'll bring up a fact you've never heard of in a conversation with you, and when you ask him where he learned that from, he'll nudge his head towards your daughter.

+ i think charles' daughter would be a mini version of him, minus his use of violence lol. she would be quiet and only open up to those shes comfortable with, and would be very passionate about those she loves and the things she cares about.

john marston

+ you will always be able to tell when john dressed her because what in the hell is she wearing?

+ the goofiest dad but he's trying his best he swears!!

+ he's not the most vocally affectionate dad out there, but he'll randomly show up with gifts because he'll remember his daughter mentioning that she liked a specific item.

+ he'll also show affection by teaching her things. he doesn't really know what young girls would find interesting, so he just kind of assumes she would enjoy horseback riding or something of the sort. will definitely feel awkward if she expresses that she's bored.

+ john is trying, but he doubts himself and will always come to you for reassurance. he feels a lot better after speaking with you about things. "i'm just...bad at this stuff. you think she even likes me?" "john, she loves you more than anything, and i do too."

+ he's so bad at playing pretend, but he tries his hardest and you think it's so funny. if arthur catches him playing dolls with your daughter, he'll definitely tease him about it later. "dad, use your girl voice!"

+ a daughter raised by john marston would probably be rather shy, but also very kind, patient, and understanding. she might also take on some of her dad's sarcasm.

dutch van der linde

+ he would spoil his baby girl ROTTEN. he just can't seem to ever say no to her and will end up going into town himself to get a new stuffed animal for the kid the moment she asks for one.

+ dutch would definitely boast about how smart his daughter is. he would teach her to read and write as soon as possible and would feel so proud when she tells him about the things she read or wrote about. "she gets it from me, of course."

+ he would quite literally kill for his daughter. he's definitely the scary dad, but like in a way that she will casually bring up "oh yeah my dad has killed people" on first dates.

+ dutch's daughter would definitely be one to have a rebellious phase. i think he would tend to insist that she stays at camp because it's safest, but he would raise a girl that's curious about what the country is like outside of her tent. there would be many instances where dutch will send someone out—or himself to go find her after she steals a horse and runs off somewhere.

+ i feel like he would want to name his daughter something like...antique, or based off of some character from literature. things like ophelia, elizabeth, athena, victoria...

+ i actually think that dutch would raise a rather fiesty daughter. educated and bold, i think a daughter raised by the leader of the van der linde gang would grow to be a leader herself.

hosea matthews

+ i think hosea was born to be a girl dad.

+ he would so have a nickname for her that would stick with her for the rest of her life. something cute like dew drop or honey bee; and sometimes even the other gang members would call her by that nickname.

+ with the way hosea sits and listens to the women in the camp, he would do the same with your daughter. although he can be a stern parent when needed, he'll always listen to her before doing anything else.

+ he'd love to teasingly embarrass her in front of the others. "remember when you were wearing diapers until you were four years old?" "dad!"

+ HE KNOWS HOW TO DRESS A BABY!! and he would be so proud of himself. he'd probably be more excited over baby clothes than you.

+ oh he would treat her like a princess. i imagine him reading her fairytales as a child and will play along with her when she pretends to be a princess. if he could, he would build her a castle.

+ i believe that hosea would raise a humorous, kind hearted girl, who can also be rather mischievous. i can imagine his daughter being very outgoing and friendly, but very serious when needed.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr1 #arthur morgan #charles smith #dutch van der linde #john marston #hosea matthews #x reader #headcanons #fluff #gn reader

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strrwbrrryjam · 3 months

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the take that hosea is a good father is an understandable one, considering it mostly derives from comparison to dutch, who groomed two orphan boys to be outlaws, pitted them against one another through his favouritism, treated one son more as a workhorse than a son to the point where he literally drives himself to sickness and injury and has most of his self worth come from what he can do for others, dismissed his gang members when they had concerns - often berating them and accusing them of not being loyal (which he does repeatedly, sometimes unprompted, to men and women who have been loyal to him for years), prioritised a man so vile that most - if not all except dutch - did not like him - a man who went against everything he claimed to stand for - a man who was actively a threat to the people of colour and the women who dutch had promised safety too, did not plan to rescue his son who was being tortured and very close to death after being captured from a very obvious trap, did not plan to rescue his other son from prison, taunting his dying son over being too tired to go on any jobs, claiming that he never had a son in an effort to manipulate eagle flies, pointing a gun at his son and leaving them to die, (and that's outside of his other crimes, being abusive to his girlfriend as well as hitting on other women in front of her and making it so the gang members treat her like shit. exploiting a fucking genocide for his own personal gain, and more)

so it's easy to look between the two and think "wow, hosea is so much better than him, he must be a good father/man," but that just isn't true, he's.. more okay than anything. not only was he complicit in signing his children's death warrant, raising them to be outlaws, and putting them in so much danger, he was also complicit and enabled dutchs treatment of the gang members, not just arthur and john either, but all of them.

he is the second in charge, the other half of the curious couple, he holds so much power in the gang, and we see that with how they listen and confide in him, and yet he doesn't do much, he doesn't stop dutch from mistreating the gang members, doesn't stop dutch from doing much of anything (even things he clearly disagrees with), doesn't throw micah out (which, I repeat, he does have the power to do so, especially since dutch still respects hosea, yes, we see dutch not listen to hosea that much, but he still respects him and his decisions, still clearly cares for hosea, i'm sure if hosea were to dig his feet in on something instead of rolling over, dutch would at least consider, of course this is just my interpretation), doesn't work to settle tensions between the gang, he still brings the gang on dangerous jobs that are doomed to fail (one of which results in his own death) - believing in his own hubris and intelligence which results in him underestimating his enemies, and he doesn't take charge even when he knows something is wrong.

it isn't just this either, he has his moments where he too treats the gang members (not just arthur) unfairly, berating, and using physical aggression on sean and bill, comes to mind (although, this was a different time where such actions were acceptable back then and sean and bill were generally being rather lazy, which could very much put them in danger,) but he was also at fault in the raising of his two sons into the roles that they had and is partly responsible for arthurs incredibly low self esteem, often calling him stupid and ugly looking, which may be jokes to him but something arthur very much takes to heart, believing it to be true.

sure, we see him asking arthur to rest and trying and succeeding to get the gang members to open up, and actually listening to them, we see him comfort them and respect them, unlike dutch, and he's very good at that, I applaud him for it, but I can't help but feel this mostly coming from his old age and the fact that he feels (and is correct) about the gang coming to an end and realising what he has done, trying to rectify the situation, soothe his regret if you will. that doesn't mean he didn't take this role much sooner (likely back to when bessie had passed), but I believe he fully delved into this role because of his old age and his regret, wanting to make sure he feels the world with as little of it as possible. he has been a complicit and active participant in everything.

this isn't anti-hosea, i love hosea to bits, i wish he could very much replace my pa but I wish people would understand that just because dutch is awful, does not mean that hosea is an angel, he's decent, at best.

#would you believe i wrote this all while being in the bath. i was washing my hair and inspiration just hit me. lol #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 hosea matthews #hosea matthews #rdr2 dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 john marston #john marston #rdr2 van der linde gang #van der linde gang #strawberry speaks

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outlaw-apologist · 1 year

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How The Gang Comforts You After a Nightmare - (RDR2 HCs)

The gang comforting their S/O after they have a gruesome nightmare Characters: Arthur, Charles, Javier, Dutch, Hosea For @gonefiishiing 💕 Note: I’m SO sorry it took me forever to write this. I wrote half of this while I was sick so I hope it makes sense. If not I’ll happily re-write it 💕 AO3 Link Arthur: - When Arthur wakes up to your nightmares they trigger some nasty anxiety in him. He shoots awake, eyes darting around camp while his hand reaches for his gun. - When he realizes there’s no real danger he gently pets your hair in an attempt to calm you while also trying to settle his own beating heart. “Shhh sweetheart, there’s nothin’ to worry about.” - If you need to cry, Arthur will hold you and shield you from any of the gang members who might be looking your way. He rubs your back, drawing circles on your skin. He’s patient and gentle with you. - “Look at me. Hey, look.” He places your hand on his scarred face. “See? I’m the most real thing here. You ain’t got nothin to fear while I’m here, okay? I’ll beat up those nasty dreams for you. Just keep your eyes on me and breathe. There you go, that’s it.” Arthur talks you through breathing techniques, helping to ground you in reality. - Once you’re calm He’ll silently climb out of bed, grabbing something from his satchel. With a mischievous look on his face he climbs back into your shared cot and shows you two chocolate bars. “Look what I got.” He looks like a kid sneaking candy. Arthur didn’t eat candy often, so it amuses you that he looks thrilled. He pushes the chocolate into your hand and snuggles with you as you both indulge in your treats.

- “We can talk about it if you want?” If you decide to tell him about it he’ll listen to you patiently. If not, that’s okay. Arthur is perfectly happy cuddling and eating chocolate with you. - After awhile if you become tired again Arthur will move so that he’s laying on his back inviting you to sleep on his chest. “I’ll hold you so those nasty nightmares know they can’t fuck with you anymore. If they want to they need to go through me first.” He says playfully. He’ll even hum a tune for you. You can feel the vibration in his chest as you drift off. ____ Charles: - “Hey, hey it’s okay.” Charles approaches you the same way he would approach a spooked horse. Because… well he doesn’t have much experience with this kind of thing so he doesn’t really know how to react. - He offers you a cup of tea to calm your nerves. He doesn’t say much at first, allowing you to enjoy his company. Especially if you need time to wake up and process your nightmares. -After awhile Charles invites you on a walk. “The moon is full and the night is beautiful. Come walk with me. It might help your nightmares clear off.” He offers you his hand, carefully helping you out of bed. - “You know, I used to have night terrors too.” He’ll speak after awhile as you both admire the stars on your walk. “Long ago after I lost my mother. I felt helpless. As time went on I found strength within myself and they slowly went away. I know… It probably doesn’t help hearing that. But, uh, I want you to know you have strength. And when you don’t feel strong enough I hope you’ll turn to me so that I can be your strength in those moments. Maybe that will help.” He smiles gently. You can almost make out his blush in the soft midnight light. It was hard for Charles to summon the courage to say something so borderline romantic but you’re the one person who’s always worth the effort. - Despite this Charles is nervous you’ll have another bad dream. After returning to bed he stays up for the rest of the night to keep an eye on you. Maybe it was because of the hurt his own dreams used to cause, he doesn’t know. What Charles does know is that it breaks his heart to see you suffering so. ____ Javier: - You feel gentle rocking as Javier takes you into his arms. “Oh, mi amor, only good dreams.” He cooes, kissing your hair. - He nuzzled you, holding you while he lets you wake up. - “Tell me what frightened you.” His deep eyes search your face. Javier is an excellent listener. He’ll even ask for clarification on a few details. “I don’t know if this is helpful or not, but I too struggle with these things. I often see the man I killed back in Mexico. I don’t regret my decision and… I guess he’s trying to haunt me… I don’t know. But, every time I see him I simply take out my knife and threaten to do it again. It works every time. Maybe you can do that in your dream too?” - Javier will tuck you back into your bed roll then will get out his guitar. Softly he will sing you back to sleep - Even after you fall asleep he’ll pay with your hair. He’s afraid you’ll wake up scared again so he doesn’t take his eyes off of you until the sun comes up. ____ Dutch: - When you start having night terrors Dutch feels responsible for your comfort. He knows he’s the reason you’re waking up terrified at night. Reaching for him or screaming out. He pulled you into this life and now it’s weighing heavy on your mind. Dutch knows he should at least take responsibility for this. - “Darling-” He caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers, carefully waking you as gently as possible. “You poor thing. It’s alright, it’s only a dream.” Surprisingly tender he collects you into his arms. - If you want to talk about it he’ll listen carefully and deconstruct your dream for you in hopes that it’ll help you feel better. - “Nightmares are a way into our mind. They’re fears beyond our control, or so we think. We cannot fight nature, and we cannot fight life, but nightmares we can. You faced them bravely, my love. The only true fear that comes from our nightmares are the fear that we aren’t strong enough to prevail. Yet, here you are. You prevailed. And you’ll continue to do so.” He’ll be on that Evelyn Miller type beat. - After his very cool philosophical speech it’ll hit Dutch just how sleepy he is. Now that little bit of exhausted annoyance sets in. “Now, go back to sleep!” He huffs a little. Despite this he still holds onto you lovingly as he buries his face into your hair to honk mimimi for the rest of the night. _____ Hosea: - He’s no stranger to nightmares. Especially after all he’s seen and done. -Hosea gently plays with your hair to wake you, making sure the area is lit enough so you can recognize his face immediately. “It’s alright my sweet. I’m right here with you, okay?” - He simply lays with you as you try to gain your bearings. He doesn’t dare crowd you in case you prefer to have some space. Once Hosea has your permission he’ll gently move you to lay on his chest. - Reading to you in a soft voice, his tired eyes will wander to your face every few pages to make sure you’re doing alright. - He pays special attention to your breathing. If you’re breathing hard or fast he’ll whisper sweet nothings to calm you down. But if your breaths are slow as you fall back asleep he’ll become quiet, wanting you to rest as much as possible. - In the morning Hosea asks everyone to let you sleep in. He’ll make sure to ready a healthy breakfast and some coffee. - Sitting with you as you eat in bed, Hosea asks you if you want to talk about your dream. - “When my Bessie passed, I was terrified to sleep. I would dream of her. Horrible horrible dreams. Sometimes our minds create the greatest horrors. I just wanna let you know, if you ever need me it’s okay to wake me up. I’ll hold you, or get you anything you need. There’s not much I can do, but I’ll do what I can.”

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x Reader #Charles Smith #Charles Smith x reader #dutch van der linde #Dutch van der linde x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #Hosea Matthews x reader #hosea matthews #rdr2 #RDR2 Headcanons #my writing

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nexionswild · 1 year

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IN WHICH MANEATER!reader admits their feelings for the van der linde boys. [p.1] [p.2]

includes: arthur ∿ john ∿ dutch ∿ hosea ∿ javier ∿ micah.

content warning: none, pure fluff, no pronouns [GN], some fem!words [“minx” “temptress”]

a/n: first headcanons in a while! personality may not be as accurate but eh, do what you will !!

✦ ﹒ arthur morgan

you.. what?

arthur doesn’t believe in being remotely worthy of any romantic interests, he always thought you were out of his league. needless to say, it’s a pretty loving yet interesting surprise. he even comes as far as questioning your tastes in men.

but of course, he doesn’t say no, and god knows what would happen to his mental state if he ever dismissed your feelings.

by the time your confession came out, he’d admit that he loved admiring you from a distance, seeing how you swayed men with your charms and wits. it was always fascinating for him in a weird way. he can’t quite put it in words, but by simply observing you, he could feel things.

“alright, alright … i’ll take the goddamn minx’s hand, but don’tcha go cryin’ on Grimshaw’s dress if ya’ startin’ to regret yer decision, understand?”

obviously, he’s so grateful to have you under his wing now. it’s almost like a dream he’ll never want to wake up from, it’s a blessing, even.

although arthur still doubt how long you’ll stay with him, due to his bad experience during his first relationships with some women, he’s trying to be optimistic about the way it will turn out.

he doesn’t have much to say or do, except awkwardly appreciating your presence and the way all of your attention shifted onto him, but he’s not a slacker in this relationship, hell no.

you’re constantly victim of his tease, and often gets to be his main focus every now and then. being a natural gentleman, he doesn’t mind offering you help during your missions. and his treatment gets especially more overwhelming after a task that includes seducing a feller for information. he’d like to say that he’s not the jealous type, he understands you’re just doing your job, but god. he should be the only man that gets to hear all of these sweet words.

✦ ﹒ john marston

completely and utterly baffled. him? you and him? together?

“why?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. he regrets it.

when you explained it’s really by the way he behaves with you, the way he’s gentle and soft for you, always slacking around until he gets to work when you ask him to from dutch’s part, that’s where he realizes, he really didn’t made any efforts to try and keep his feelings away from you. he is embarrassed.

lord knows how red his face was when you admitted that he may be one of the most tender man you’ve ever came across from the millions of other ones you had to seduce for survival, to think he was one in a million, in a way, you made him feel special.

he could only hide his lips with the back of his hand as he reluctantly tried to look at you, in which he desperately can’t. and while you await his answer, his heart keeps beating faster and faster, he worries you may even hear the sound of his heartbeat from where you are.

eventually, after a long moment of awkward, peaceful silence, with the sounds of birds and winds clearing the void of noises your head, john eventually grumbled a little “yeah, i guess i like you too.”

he can’t believe that he managed to get into a relationship with someone as charismatic as you, knowing he absolutely has zero charms. but this reality doesn’t apply to you, it seems. with the way you shower him in compliments and constantly pampering him with kisses ever since your confession, it makes it hard to believe that he wouldn’t be a man of interest.

in return, he’d quietly shove all of his love and affection by pulling you into a simple hug or enticing you to join their partying when the gang suddenly pops out the alcohol and plays music for some event. he’s a fun man when he tries to be, otherwise, it’s really just long, and silent moments of adoration as he hugs and cuddles you from behind.

before he even got together with you, he was already a little frustrated with the men you had to engage with for the sake of the mission, but now that you’re his, his frustration is even worse.

“you better try and come up with som’ other plans, regarding [y/n] dutch.”

✦ ﹒ dutch van der linde

“of course, i’ll love you forever.”

he’ll tease you about your feelings, dutch already grew a reputation amongst women for his ability to entertain with just talks and conversations. he even swayed men to like him for being friendly. after all, why do you think he knows and have contacts with so many people?

admittedly, dutch secretly loved it when you confessed to him. there’s something about you initiating it that sparks a bigger interest in you. you were a pretty thing to look at, a painting in exposition for a museum. of course he had his eyes on you for a long while ever since you joined.

he only puts you in those (insufferable) tasks to see you in action, and boy, was he impressed with the way you’d easily wrap those creeps, men and women alike, around your finger so quickly. not only were you useful for the gang, but you proved you’re more worthy than those petty missions.

he’ll never admit how he would also punish himself watching you whisper those sweet-nothings into their ear, only hosea knew the kind of face he would make when you did your job.

surprisingly committed and devoted into this relationship, you honestly expected something lacking. i mean, the way he treated molly should’ve trigger those red flags, but there’s something about him that you couldn’t quite touch on, that was so annoyingly attractive. and that devotion never faded away, you always kept him entertain in some wicked way, god knows what kind of poison you have for him to be so hooked on you.

he’d always slide his hand around your waist, tracing the edge of your body with his fingers as he looked down on you. and the way you gracefully accepted his touch only made him want to crave for more, he wants more of your subtle validation every time he shares an intimate moment with you. you’re his elixir, and he will never stop getting sick if it means consuming you more and more.

don’t expect this relationship to end. he will never let go of you. ever.

good luck trying to contribute to the gang and do your job, because dutch will never stop fucking up your work for the simple fact that he should be the only one who gets to experience your seduction.

“i should seriously come up with different plans now that you’re mine.”

✦ ﹒ hosea matthews

it took hosea some convincing to let him know that you were serious about your feelings, he always took everything under a sarcastic joke, until he realizes you actually mean it, his smile drops as he’s processing the information.

hosea is aware he’s not as devilishly handsome as dutch, he thinks of himself as a boring old man who likes novels and wisdom. to think you, a young and seductive temptress, in love with him? he doesn’t know how to eat that in a whole.

that is probably the first time you ever seen him that nervous, but the way he plays it out as a joke was still endearing, but annoying, at the same time.

“who forced you? i swear, i won’t be mad if ya’ just told me, y’know?”

when he finally accepts the fact that you’re really interested, hosea couldn’t help but smile again. he’s a jokester, seriously, what do you see in that guy? he makes you laugh. (nudge nudge, wink wink) and the sheer fact that he made you bend over (not in that way)mon your tummy as you try to suppress your laughter into quiet snorts so many times was just charming, in your opinion. and impressive as well. no men made you laugh like that before.

you couldn’t care less if he was too old or too modest, he was the perfect amount of gentleman. he’s been loyal to you like some kind of butler, and it was just so lovely to see him act like such a domestic husband when you ask nothing from him, and it was even more funny to see him quietly appreciating your flirtatious remarks before you got together.

now that you are in a relationship, your teasing has gotten even worse, and hosea desperately tries to keep up with you but you always left him in long flustered silences before he cracks another joke to try and change the topic. but he doesn’t leave you do all the talk, when you need comforting words after a mission, he’s here. and he’s the perfect man for encouragement and motivation.

he understands that it must be hard to always be a man’s attention, and he couldn’t be any more proud of you for trying to play your part for the sake of the gang. he doesn’t care about the comments you have to use towards these men for information, he knows whatever you do or say, he’s the only one you love, and you’re the only one he loves.

“you’re just.. perfect.”

✦ ﹒ javier escuella

you’ve never seen him so. happily. flustered.

he doesn’t want to show this side to you, he’s a scary outlaw who knows how to handle a knife, guns and such. but you made his heart flutter, how is he supposed to react to your feelings in a way that wouldn’t miserably damage his image as a brave yet intimidating gunman?

being generally polite and soft-spoken, you couldn’t hear him literally grumbling in spanish under his breath, not like you could understand him anyways, he was talking too fast in your opinion.

“ay.. dios mío. i don’t know how to say it. but, i really..”

he can’t afford to look you in the eyes, you’re so beautiful and precious. you’re no saint and that, he shamefully loves it, so much. no amount of words can describe how he loves seeing you talking your way out of conflict with those honey words. and because of that, you’ll only ever hear his confession in spanish before he pulls you in an embrace, which told you that he’ll happily stay by your side if that’s what you want.

it frustrates you that he’ll only talk about his feelings in his native language, that’s his mother tongue, and as much as you love to hear his love words in spanish, you also want to know what that means. you want to hear those words clear and loud, and javier can’t help but chuckle at your desperation. it was adorable. he didn’t know you had that side for him; being cute. usually, he would only see you tempting men and women, or constantly hearing your teases.

seeing you pout just made him want to speak spanish more often, he savors everything you offer him. and there couldn’t be anything more delicious than your new expressions, he especially loves it when you blush for him, because it came to a point where hearing his mexican rants was.. weirdly attractive.

“te quiero mucho, querida.”

✦ ﹒ micah bell

WHAT? you had all the men in the world and out of everything, you chose him? him???

he doesn’t understand you, he really doesn’t. he’s been here, shaming all of your good graces and degrading you into oblivion since your sole purpose here is “to pretend to be a sexworker” and you like him?

fine. he may have been under your spell as well, i mean, you’re attractive. he knows that you are, why else would dutch set you up in dirty work like that? — but he have way too much pride, and if you think he’ll apologize for his behavior or told you about how he felt about you, safe to say: don’t get your hopes up.

not only is he straight up puzzled, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he’s been craving for you this whole time, he was just in denial. he had too much confidence and pride to admit that he’d ever fall in love with someone like you, i mean, he’s been acting like this for so many years, what makes you different from the others? why was your attention so important to him? you’re nothing but some whore, right? or so he thought.

“fine.. but don’t get yer’ hopes up, pretty girl. just cuz’ i’m blessin’ you with my last name don’t mean anythin’. got that, sweetheart?’

he’s lying. you know he is. blessing you with his last name? is he expecting you to stay until marriage?

not that you mind, since you’re crazy enough to develop feelings for him. and he’s crazy enough to make you want this marriage.

ever since that day, micah has been noticeably more attentive towards you, both by hearing out your adventures and by touch. you wouldn’t notice him scooting closer and closer whenever you talked, you wouldn’t notice the way his head cocked to the side as his hand slid up your waist, tracing the frame of your body before reaching your shoulder and firmly grabbing it, pulling you closer to him. you only noticed when you felt his breath tickling your chin.

oh, he enjoys having an effect on you. all those months, he’d seen you play your way with people in sexual nonsense. he never liked how you got all the attention, or that you were focus on anyone else but him for that matter, but now he’s got you just where he wants you to be, right beneath him.

he loves to see you get quiet when he’s close.

“well? don’tcha keep me waitin’ pretty girl, better talk or waste my time.”

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scarfacemarston · 7 months

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Van der Linde Costumes Year 3!

Despite the editing sucking - Please, please, please, "like" and reblog. It would help me so much. You'd think it's just copying and pasting photos, but I did a lot of thinking, finding the right pic and editing. Arthur - Jim Hopper from Stranger Things:

John - Clint Eastwood's Cowboy:

Dutch - Jay Gatsby:

Molly - Daisy:

Hosea- Oppenheimer:

Abigail - Vampire: Very first year of trying something sexier.

Jack- Indiana Jones:

Charles - Hippie: He is ALWAYS comfortable. First year was comfty piraty. Then was comfty Jedi and now it's comfty hippie. Imagine he has a sunflower crown here!

Sadie - Gladiator:

Javier- Starlord because of the jacket and the music:

Lenny as Sam Wilson as Captain America:

Karen - Barbie: COME ON, YOU KNEW SOMEONE WAS GOING TO DO IT.

Sean - Ken: YOU KNOW SHE'D DRAG HIM INTO IT.

Mary-Beth - Wanted Barbie, but Karen beat her, so she's Daphne:

Kieran - Which means he's Shaggy:

Tilly - Shuri:

Josiah Trelawny- P.T. Barnum The Greatest Showman:

Susan Grimshaw - Old West Madam:

Micah Bell - Jason Vorhees:

Bill - Beer Can:

Reverend Swanson - Templar:

Uncle - Santa Clause:

Pearson - Toga Guy:

Bonuses: Marston Baby - Cat:

Rufus - Lion:

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softrozene · 1 year

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Comforting Female Reader Who Has Experienced an Assault

Anon asked: Hey honey, I was too shy to ask off of anon... But do you think you could do some HC’s for the boys helping a f!reader who was previously sexually assaulted? I am having a really tough time right now. ( I am handling it all and I have people helping me too) it’s just really weird for me to deal with I guess Thank you sweet Ro!

rdr2 masterlist

I’m sorry to hear that stuff like that is happening to you but if you ever need someone to talk to just to vent or for advice you are always welcome to talk to me since I have experienced past sexual assaults and harassments. It’s always a no-judgment zone when talking to me fyi. Just remember everyone processes it differently but you are not alone and hopefully the people helping you are a strong support system.

I love you anon and I hope these make you feel better.

I chose almost all the males I usually write for because they would all kill/die for the ones they love.

Originally published on February 11, 2020

*Speaking to everyone who reads this: These can be taken as platonic relationships or romantic. Just know I am not romanticizing the issue. There will be solid advice. There will be dumb advice. These are after all my headcanons for how I think they would treat the issue with a fem!reader (I think with a male!reader they would act just a little bit differently. This is a sensitive topic so please read the warnings and just remember you are all loved.

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, fluff, mentions of past sexual assault

Hosea Matthews-

He would hear this from you directly

Would be shocked before he drops everything in order to listen to you

If you don’t wanna talk about it he won’t push you but he will hint that it may make you feel better

If it happened all in the past he would piece together some of your tendencies that relate to the assault, what you tend to avoid and whatnot, and basically, he’ll help you so nothing at the camp will trigger you

If it happened more recently he will try and urge you to tell him who it is so he can sick the boys on them, without your knowledge of course

He’ll just say “It’s been taken care of Sweetheart. No need to worry about it.”

Hosea is the most caring one out of them all and will constantly check up on you, see how you are doing/feeling, will get you whatever you want whenever you want, and more importantly will always put others in their place if he feels they are getting on your nerves or are crossing boundaries

If you do daily talks he’ll always ask if it’s okay to hug you or hold your hand because he wants you to know desperately how much you mean to him and the gang

If he sees you heading down the wrong path, he will pick you up without a doubt. Orders you to take care of yourself and if you don’t listen to him, he will send Arthur and John the most awkward boys in the universe to go and talk you into doing the stuff he told you to do

He’ll do about anything you want in order for you to feel better and get past this traumatic experience

��We can’t change what happened to us. That’s all in the past. However, we can change how it affects us now. How we’ll go on in the future. Turn this into something to make you stronger.”

Dutch Van Der Linde-

Will deadass go on a rampage after learning you’ve been assaulted

All you have to say is that you got hurt by someone- He doesn’t need any details unless you want to fill up the rage he already has

He will hunt down whoever they are no matter where they are with most of the gang by his side, it doesn’t matter how long ago it was, he wants to see that bastard/bitch who did this to you in the ground

“And they will surely be dealt with” literally will be his words- Anyway after they are dealt with will he only focus on you

He’ll be careful with you and probably the most annoying thing he can and will do is, treat you like glass

It doesn’t matter anymore if this was in the past or more recently, he will make sure someone he trusts is by your side and preferably a woman so probably Miss Grimshaw

Eventually, he will realize that he is overdoing it but he will give you one of his speeches saying it’s only because he worries about you

You just gotta be upfront with him, tell him what you need and what you do not need, and he will fix himself after apologizing

Expect a lot more gifts from yours truly

By a lot, I mean a lot

He will make it rain jewelry for you if it means you know how much he cares

Can’t say that about the money though

If it still lingers over you he will without a doubt, try and help you through the process of at least accepting what happened well happened

“Try and focus on the now and make yourself better for the future” Or something along those lines would be his advice

Arthur Morgan-

Is a saint no matter what he says

You would have to tell him face-to-face and rather bluntly that you were assaulted. If you hint at it, he may take a moment before he realizes what you mean

He won’t act fast but he will sit down with you and have a talk with you

Of course, he wants to act, his blood would be boiling at the thought of someone even touching you without your consent but for your sake, he will take a breather and wait until you are done venting to him

He would treat you the same

He wouldn’t necessarily tread lightly on certain topics unless he sees that it makes you uncomfortable and omg if one of the boys dares to mess with you he will be on their ass in a hot second

Basically, he may hover but he won’t realize it since he’s treating you the same way as always

It’s up to you as well to decide the fate of who hurt you

If you want them dead, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

If you want them beaten, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

If you want them threatened, he’ll go do it in a heartbeat

If you don’t want anything done, he’ll just keep an eye on you and make sure you are faring well

When he’s not at camp he’ll have Hosea, John, or one of the ladies keep an eye on you

He makes sure that you know you can bother him for anything, he may be grumpy about it but he’ll do it just for you

If you’re having nightmares or just can’t sleep you can sleep on his cot and he’ll stay with you until you do fall asleep

If nothing works to make you feel better you bet your ass he’ll take you with him, on rides to town just to get you out and about

His last resort is letting you see his journal- That’s how you know this boy genuinely cares about you because no one touches the journal

“People are not so kind. But you are. What I’m tryin’ to say is don’t let that bastard/bitch put out your light. I care ‘bout ya.”

Charles Smith-

He would be the most understanding like Hosea

Would make sure that you are in a safe space mentally before he allows you to vent

Will reassure you that you are safe no matter what but he will want to get back at this person

It usually goes against his code for killing but he cares about you and no one deserves to get hurt like that so he will take time out of his day (probably go gather Arthur) and go and kill this person

Whether you wanted that or not he would have convinced you this person would probably have another person to prey on soon enough

Speaking of, he will remind you that you are not a victim but a survivor

He’ll be there for you all the way

If you need some company he’s there for you even if you don’t want to talk

Charles can and will be your rock if you need it

He’ll help pick you up and depending on if it’s okay with you, tell a selective few what happened so they can also help you

It may be cheesy but I can see Charles in this scenario making you say positive things about yourself in order to ward away the negative thoughts

“Repeat after me. I am a strong woman. I am resilient. I am a tiger.”

May or may not be making fun of Mr. Pearson at the last one in order to get you to laugh

Either way, he’ll make sure you to feed you positive lines almost every day

If you need to get out he’ll take you on nature rides and remind you out beautiful the world is despite how cruel the people are

He won’t exactly hover but he will be constantly glancing your way at camp to make sure you are all good

Tells you venting is actually good without needing to hear the advice

I forgot to mention it in the others but, all these males will make sure you know self-defense. They give you tips and tricks with each weapon of their choice that way no one will mess with you again

You can always rely on Charles to give you good advice though. Understands that sometimes you just need someone to rely on so you know you’re not alone

“I know you. You are strong and beautiful. Don’t give anyone the power to doubt yourself. Only you have that power.”

John Marston-

Is fucking awkward when it comes to this kind of thing

He will 100% see red as soon as you tell him and no matter what no one but Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea can stop him from going after the person who hurt you (and those three will join him tbh)

He is not the best to talk to about this so he’s okay if you just need the company

May take you to a saloon and get you a drink or two just to ease you, will not give you more

Honestly, I see John as completely awkward and not knowing what to do for this situation. He’s at a loss and if the problem (the person) has been dealt with wouldn’t know how to help you

He would go ask the girls how to cheer you up or make you feel better, go to Hosea would be a better option and would finally just ask you what you need and how so you don’t get stuck in your PTSD

Though he may understand but not in the way that is relatable. He’ll understand the nightmares and such but he won’t understand if you fear that person because his situations have always been near death

He will desperately try to understand you though

Will send Jack your way if that kid can cheer you up

“Well fuck, y’know I always have your back. Just- I um don’t let ‘em get to you.”

Javier Escuella-

This man would have no idea what to say at first

It’ll take him a minute to register before he asks if he can hug you- mostly to reassure himself that you are physically safe

Once that is done and over he will get straight to business and ask what you need

Murdering the person would cross his mind tbh but he’s too focused on you that he won’t ask till much later

If you need to clear your mind he’ll take you fishing, show you how to fish and have Hosea come along so it’s all positive vibes

He’ll write some songs and lullabies for you and serenade you to show you how much he cares

I honestly think Javi bottles everything up when it comes to himself so he’ll be more than happy to talk to you about your PTSD or share stories and even his own past if he deems it right by you

He would gut whoever you want like a fish for you btw

“Hermosa, you’re strength inspires me”

And it truly does

It takes a lot of guts to admit and accept what’s happened and even more to want to reach out for help

Javier would admire that and remind you whenever you need to hear it

Sean Macguire-

Ahaha if you thought John or Dutch had a short fuse for this- The minute he finds out he’s already spouting nonsense of them meeting their demise

And if you allow it or they are not dead he will surely make them have a terrible death

He would risk getting caught by bounty hunters again if that were the case

As for comforting you, this boy doesn’t exactly know how to do that

He laughs off his own traumatic experience so he’d probably be trying to get you to crack a smile or drink with him

Homeboy would try and get you to kill some bloody people for the fun of it ngl

Hopefully, his energy will rub off on you

I don’t really see him as the sitting down type but if he cares about you he is more than willing to listen to you and also more than willing to give you unwanted advice and a shite ton of his opinions

“Yer fuckin’ priceless. No mutherfucker hassa right to touch ye.”

He will end the speech with something gory I bet

*I was going to add Keiran and Lenny but I ran out of ideas but I hope the lovely lads I did write and their reactions/comfort help anyone who needs it

#softrozene writes #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #hosea matthews x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #angst/comfort

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canaidliafail · 8 months

Text

what she brings out of me

sadie adler x f!reader

4.5 k words MDI

old piece that isn’t proof read but I wanted to post it. Sort of canon compliant for 1/7 of the story so read at your own risk + bad english ahead. enjoy

hunting with Hosea was a chore more often than not but the man raised you to be the hunter that you are now and you were willing to tolerate the withered old man. He had his fun but he couldn’t do the miles he did before and his aim left much to be desired. But he kept you company and gave you maps for all the legendary animals he wanted to see and you, to catch.

That winter while you sought out shelter and a temporary camp while leaving blackwater,he was more prickly than usual.He insisted you stay in and help Pearston skin and cook the animals and man were you a shitty cook.

Pearston decided he would let you sneak out to hunt being the greedy drunk fool that he was so long as you brought something other than vegetables for the crew to eat.

You had barely managed to mount your horse when Arthur came back with Dutch and the rest with a new guest. a woman, frightened like a rabbit, shaking from the cold and the grief judging from her tear stained cheeks

the crowd came in with questions and she shrunk in herself stepping behind Dutch. You hitched your horse back and half ran your way to them

“This is Ms. Adler. Abigail help her out, she's had a rough night” he said and Abigail approached the woman who seemed reluctant to move from her spot as everyone discussed what took place. fed up with the situation you pushed the others away clearing a path for her and stopped beside Abigail

“Christ people give her some air can't you see she’s frightened?” You commanded and they lowered their heads, hats covering their eyes.

The three of you made your way back into the cabin and left it up to Abigail to talk to the woman.

Men widowed her that night and took everything else with them, money,silver, dignity….

the night was grim and you could hear her weep quietly, mourning her lost husband till daylight hit and she passed out from exhaustion. You woke up first and made coffee and left one by her bunk bed with a note

You probably won’t have much appetite but try to consume some liquids at least

Throughout your whole stay there you never conversed any further than a tip of the hat when you entered the cabin at night and a soft sigh when you replaced her untouched plate and cup in the morning.

You felt for her despite not knowing what it meant to lose a husband. You didn’t know what it meant to even have a husband in the first place

But your heart still ached to see such a lovely woman stripped of all joy and light

•••

“a 1000 pound bear and you thought we could take her out with our piss poor rifles?!” You asked bewildered and glanced at Arthur who had much more patience than you that day, which said a lot. Hosea passed him the map with a hand over his heart still scared and in shock how quickly he came face to face with death

“Ill head back…You two gonna chase after that thing are are you coming with?”

“coming with. Arthur its all yours” You said and mounted your house and he did the same

“Had enough entertainment for now. Let’s head back” He agreed and you all three started the two day journey back talking about everything and how everyone was settling in

“By the way, Karen has been asking for you again”

“hm?” you looked up at Arthur. Of course she was. you leave for a few days and she is looking for you again to let out some steam. You stay at camp and she won’t bat an eye your way. You took little offense however simply enjoying that you had someone to have your fun with when no one was looking

“Ill go by her tent later…” you mumbled

“Speaking of can you keep some company to Ms. Adler as well? You two have a spunky spirit and might lift her up a bit”

Sadie Adler had continued her daily routine of wandering off to the far end of the camp sitting on the rocks and crying. You caught her talking to Abigail more than anyone else and despite wanting to get close to the woman you had no idea how to approach her

“Ill…see what I can do”

you agreed and continued silently too tired to indulge in small talk

you arrived at the hideout the next evening. Arthur took off shortly to go back to blackwater for a lead on some members that stayed behind

You bathed in the dreadfully cold river and made it back to your tent combing your hair into two braids, putting on a clean pair of jeans with a shirt to go out and see if there was any coffee or herbs to make tea.

Your caught Sadie with the corner of your eye sitting by the rocks looking off into the distance and decided to give it your best shot. At this point you were the only woman who had not talked to her and it felt rude

you grabbed two chapped mugs and poured whatever hot liquid was available and made your way to her

“Evening Ms. Adler” she looked up at you

“Good evening”

“Mind if I keep you some company?” you said pushing the warm cup in her direction which she took without protest and schooched to the side giving you space. You sat next to her and looked at the dim light from the sparse fire pits enjoying the cracking of wood and soft unison of voices talking in the background

“Listen Im sure everyone had asked how you are doing so I won’t try to remind you of that but, I hope you are finding your stay with us of some comfort”

you said and dared a fearful look at her admiring her untamed blonde hair and freckled nose. A second longer and you may have found yourself in love with a widow so you turned your sights back on the coals and fire in the distance

“As much as I'd rather be left alone, its nice to have some company” she confessed and you nod, waiting to see if she had anything else to say. With a shaky voice she continued

“I just wish my Jacky was here with me. He was a good man you know, better than anyone out there”

your lips thinned almost feeling her anger. Karen passed in front of you in the distance quirking a brow indicating she would be waiting for you tonight

“I just wish it was me in his place. I feel so lost”

you brought your attention back to her and slowly pressed a hand against her back gently moving it in circles. she leaned into your touch and you felt her breath stutter

“I wish I could take my own life…but i’m not brave enough to do even that” you matched your breathing with her own pulling her closer silently trying to calm her down the minute you felt her shoulders shake

“To be brave is to keep on going. To keep on living” you quietly offered your thoughts and she shook her head tears falling again

“I don’t know…”

you kept caressing her back

“Keep on living Adler. Show those fuckers what you’re made of”

You said boldly and she turned to look at you surprised. she seemed to consider your words and then your face. maybe both. You knew you weren’t good at this but you were satisfied to see the tears stop and her features soften

You smiled and hesitantly tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear and then stood up

“We are here for you. Take your time to grieve the man. He is worth it” she nod and took in a deep breath looking into the distance, taking a sip from her tea “Thank you for listening” your shrugged “least I can do for a pretty lady. Should you ever seek company my tent is open” you said and saw a soft smile graced her lips for the first time before she turned away. Remorse hit you quick and hard realizing you accidentally just made a pass at her and felt shame drown you.

with a tip of your hat you excused yourself.

You feared you had messed up, spoke too soon and maybe with too much ignorance. You prayed she’d brush your words off. Its not like anyone even considered that a woman could flirt with a woman.

You sought out Karen and her willing touch that night. You forgot yourself in the pleasure of her spread legs and let her soft gasps fill your mind.

However the next day you were surprised to see Sadie with her hair braided and her shirt tucked in neatly with a lovely brown straw hat shielding her face from the sun. she went to pour coffee and caught you staring and for the first time greeted you first with a smile

•••

Days turned into weeks and Sadies curt greetings turned to small talk that turned into long conversation and eventually she took interest in your role with the gang asking of your trips

“a huntress?”

you felt pride in your chest. sure women weren’t expected to do much but you loved that you challenged that standard from a young age

“I feel I am of more use with a bow in the wild than with pins and needles”

“What's up with you managing to have every woman all over you?” Arthur asked one day and you laughed pushing him away with a soft punch on his arm

“Its my talent”

“and here I thought that laid in hunting animals. ‘s that why we’ve been starving lately?”

he asked meaning no harm and you saw his crooked grin and the softness in his eyes, crinkling with wrinkles

“shut up arthur. Don't you have a train to rob or something?”

“my bad, I won’t take any more of your precious time with Ms. Adler”

You also quickly found out Sadie had a sharp tongue and a short temper. Her strength and quip was overshadowed by her grief before but slowly it raised to the surface and more people took interest in her. She grew more familiar with Arthur and her long skirts were slowly replaced by the occasional tight black jeans that accentuated her assets even better

Some nights she was still haunted by nightmares and you took it upon yourself to invite her to your tent. You talked for a while and when she tried to excuse herself you stopped her and patted the side of your bunk bed

“You can sleep here for tonight”

“and you?” you laughed “Ill also sleep here. Never had a sleepover with a friend before?”

“Not like that you prick” she said and laid next to you. Her eyes widened, noticing she was a little too close than she calculated. you held her by the waist guiding her “turn around for me” you whispered and she obliged. You pressed your chest against her back and held her like that and felt her tense shoulders slowly relax only to stiffen again when you spoke again close to her

“Goodnight Sadie”

“goodnight”

It only happened once but after that night You often caught yourself admiring her, those warm brown eyes, the raspy voice that gave you goosebumps and when no one paid you attention you shamelessly eyed her figure.

“You are no better than a man,huntress” Karen teased and leaned next to you against the tree. You chuckled and glanced at her “jealous?”

“you wish” she said. It didn’t go past you that she wore a dress that exposed her chest nicely yet it did little to arouse you and in horror you realized your mind drifted over to Sadie and how nicely she tucked in her shirt leaving no more than two buttons open barely exposing her collar bones

“The boys are going out for some job” she said leaving the invitation and you smirked looking down at her

“Hm…Maybe Ill join them”

“or..” she said and carefully flattened her palms against your chest pretending to fix your bandana for you “you can join me instead” she looked up at you with doe eyes and your lip twitched in a smile. She left swaying her hips and you let your gaze linger for a second before looking up. Sadie stood there with an unspoken question in her eyes and then cocked a brow in challenge.

you took two cigarettes out of your pocket and she approached you accepting your offer. she placed the stick in her lips and you motioned her to come closer.

her head tilted in confusion and you carefully pulled her in by the back of your head till the ends of your cigarettes touched and lit them both in one go

you tucked the lighter back in your pants and she took in a long puff in thought “You seem closer to Karen than the rest. Does your friendship go back in time?”

you laughed at the innocent and awfully unsuspecting question and decided to test the waters

“Friends ? Hardly, we are close though. In different ways” she seemed even more puzzled “Everytime you answer my questions I end up more lost and confused than I was before”

“Maybe I'm just that bad at conversing with others” she chuckled, a low raspy giggle almost “You give yourself too little credit. Had it not been for those coffees you left and your company Id probably still be on that rock crying” you smiled

“Glad I could help” you continued to smoke in silence and you inspected her clothes your eyes falling on the yellow brooch tied around her neck

“That's a nice brooch” she looked down and smiled “thanks. One of the few good things I own”

“Oh don't say that. You have a lovely sense of fashion darling” you held the ornament in your fingers leaning closer feeling her breath fan your cheeks. Something shifted and it wasn't even anymore. you looked up and saw her completely focused on your every movement catching her eyes that were stuck on your lips. Flattered, a cocky smile escaped you.

There was a tense moment that snapped from Peaston calling out to everyone informing them that dinner and drinks were ready.

You both pulled away from each other abruptly and pushed yourself off the tree patting your pants and dusting them off

“Will you join us?” you asked and she shrugged “Was about time I did”

•••

You were drunk. Way too fucking drunk.

“shit how many…” you tried to look around and count how many glasses of whiskey you had. everything was spinning and buzzing. Karen and Mary-beth were singing and you clumsily joined. Sadie sat next to you cracking a joke here and there but still was mostly quiet listening to all of you and sometimes laughing. Karen laid her head on your shoulder and her hand fell on your thigh beneath the table going upwards and staying there fondling your thigh. Too drunk to care if Sadie was looking, you indulged her sensual move and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

unbeknownst to you Sadie withdrew from you slightly and confused looked at the pair of you her frown growing deeper as Karens hand traveled higher eventually tugging at the metal belt clasp

amidst the chaos- which you were uncertain if there was any due to your drunken state- you remembered getting up and escaping to the quieter place of the camp, then your hands were on Karens hips and her lips on your neck biting and sucking and everything else was a blur

had you been slightly more sober you would have noticed that you weren’t completely hidden. Because Sadie was interested in you in ways she couldn’t explain and she was out looking for you that night. And she unfortunately caught a glimpse of your nasty sexual endeavors with the other woman who you had so willingly pinned against the tree and who elicited the most pornographic sounds

•••

Sadie caught herself interested in you. She liked the fact that you were a huntress and she liked more that you took little pity on her state and gave her solid motivation to get back on track with her life. She realized she chased your polite compliments when she wore a new accessory or when she braided her hair.

but to feel like this towards a woman? how?

she questioned and doubted it immediately believing it was the grief that made her lose her mind. That was until she saw you devouring karen in the deep of the forest. Something woke within her. fiery jealousy and heat bloomed in her chest and her core ached.

She-at first- was convinced she was repulsed by the act, finding it vulgar. than she thought that she was simply taken aback by it but not in an unpleasant way. eventually she decided to sleep frustrated and confused, unable to understand what she felt.

two days later she sought out Karen who seemed very eager to tease and taunt her

“What a voyeuristic eye that you have Adler”

“Are the two of you in a relationship?”

she laughed, loud enough to almost make her feel humiliated and stupid as if the answer was obvious

“Gods no! I mean I know she only likes women but I don’t care for things like that”

“only women?”

“If you ever find yourself with too much frustration pay her a visit. In my opinion every woman should feel her tongue” Sadies eyes widened and then she shook her head in disappointment

“Ill find other ways to keep myself busy” she barked growing angry with Karens games

“Suit yourself. I'm just saying that I trained her well” and with that she left. Sadie was angry. Jealous.She saw Karen marking her territory and she didn’t like that

why does she try to claim something that isnt hers

She avoided you on purpose for the upcoming days and she hated seeing your confusion and visible pain to her dismissive attitude

You once tried to approach her more boldly and in her spitefulness she spat

“what's up with you? Nothing to do?”

You huffed out a frustrated breath and crossed your arms standing in front of her.

“Ive thought about it a lot and it all boils down to you probably finding out I swing the other way”

“I did find out”

you nodded in repeat looking away and she saw your jaw tense and your brows lower “well Fuck me then” you hissed exasperated

“Id like to be alone” she said with a low growl and you scoffed “Really Sadie? Am I that disgusting to you now that you won’t even say goodmorning to me?” you raised your tone and she stood up “Don't you use that tone on me”

“or what?!” she stared at you long and hard. You were the first to break contact and took a step back, arms swinging softly

“You know what Sadie? You wanna be alone ? then be fucking alone” she watched as you turned your back on her and left immediately regretting how sbe handled that conversation.

She didn’t see you for a week after that. That week she herself was busy with her first bounty hunt and she could hardly be happy about it. Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed stones and her throat was dry.

and when you came back it was with Arhur, Hosea and another woman. Someone you rescued on your recent bounty hunt who was as lost as she once was. You attention was on the hurt woman keeping her company making sure she felt secure with your group of people

“Listen we ain’t good but we ain’t them either” you consoled an arm around her shoulders soothing her and Sadie had enough of it. She approached you with heavy steps the heel of her boots digging into the dirt

“I wanna talk to you”

you looked up and the girl in your arms seemed intimidated by her. Sadie disliked that she seemed threatening to an innocent person but her focus was on you and you alone

you silently questioned her, eyes wide, jaw tense as if saying really?! now?!

she stood her ground until you gave in and followed her back to your tent where you could have some privacy

“You wanted to talk? speak”

“Why do you have to be like that?” she asked annoyed and you shook your head defeated “Like what hon? I am around you and you are repulsed, I give you space and you are equally unsatisfied. The hell do you want from me, woman?!”

“I just needed time! Time!” she emphasized the words and you sat down knowing your knees were too weak to handle this unprovoked attitude

“time? for what?” You tried peacefully and truly exhausted knowing someone had to be tame or this conversation wouldn’t go far without resulting in you pulling a gun to each others head

“Christ I- I just was confused. I didn’t know a woman could look at a woman like that”

“And why does it concern you?” you asked and she seemed taken aback. Why indeed

Because I considered you that way too

she came to the conclusion her tongue numb and heavy, unable to speak these words out loud.

She hated how quickly you caught on and in a delightfully predatory way she watched you stand up and approach her, circling her like a vulture

“Sadie did you hate that I look at women like that or did you hate that you weren’t one of those women?”

the hair on the back of her neck rose and heat pooled in her stomach again. A feeling she thought had surely died with her late husband yet here it was.

“I wasn't?” she asked, her confidence faltering. She was sure she caught you staring at her chest, her lips, her hips at first not questioning the wandering gaze until she put the puzzle pieces together to figure out the reason behind it

your hands were on her shoulders running up and down the length of her arms slowly

“Would you like to be?” she turned around and as if in a dance sequence your hands fell on her neck to pull her in for a hungry kiss

She could feel how starved you were in the way your lips pressed against hers tasting her, imprinting the feel of her skin against hers. She returned the notion with equal fervor if not with more and was reluctant to be the one to submit. her hands landed on your hips pulling you in and she was shocked to find how right this position felt. how velvety your tongue felt against her own and how your skin molded into her palms becoming one.

she pulled away to take in a few deep and heavy breaths looking at you and was pleased to find you putty in her arms, to see the mighty huntress small, fragile and ready to do anything she would ask you to

“Do I awaken something in you Sadie?” You asked and held her closer, your arms wrapped around her neck and she responded by kissing you again loving the power and control she had. The passion melted into something more gentle, affectionate and tender and when you pulled away the second time she held your cheek in her hand caressing the flushed skin

“ that answer good enough for you?” she asked with a lazy smirk and you huffed out a laugh still gasping for air “Never thought you packed such heat” you confessed and her ego grew dangerously “You haven’t experienced the half of it”

•••

Unlike you, who was secretive and shameful of your nature the minute Sadie felt sure in herself she didn’t hesitate to greet you with a good morning kiss letting everyone think about what they just witnessed. As outlaws you certainly had bigger problems than two girls deciding to kiss each other and you came to the stupidly obvious realisation. Hosea and Arthur were the first ones to tell you

well we knew men didn’t do it for you, but I didn’t exactly know what did so…I just do now thats all it is

and you felt good about his awkward and reassuring words. Sadie didn’t care on the other hand. if she spent the night in your tent she didn’t hide it and if she felt like making a move on you while at the saloon she would and dealt with the consequences violently and eagerly still needing to vent out her pain and frustrations.

“are you not…scared?” you asked her once at night when you both laid together, naked beneath a thin sheet and she smiled giving you small kisses on your cheeks, jaw, neck

“I am scared of other things darling. Death is one of them. Random drunk men ain’t on the other hand are not”

“You aren’t indestructible Sadie. I worry for you” you confessed and she smiled “Nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again” she said and kissed you “And nobody’s taking me away from you either”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption two #sadie adler #sadie adler x reader

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nanamimizz · 2 months

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tags: height difference, gn reader, nsfw implied

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#lamb.writes #john marston x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #john marston fluff #john marston x you #rdr2 x you

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photo1030 · 3 months

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 21: Because You’re Mine, I Walk the Line

Summary: Arthur treats you to a stay in a hotel in the new town and promises to be on his best behavior.

Warnings: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This beautiful moodboard is graciously provided by @namesaretomainstream

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The gang has proceeded to move south to a secure area outside of a town called Blackwater. Winter will be upon the region soon and hopefully it will be a bit warmer by moving away from the mountains. The gang as a whole has not been in this area before, although Hosea worked a few jobs around here many years ago. Arthur and John went on ahead to scout while the rest of you pack up the camp.

The brothers have been gone for over a week before they meet you all along the trail to lead you to where they deem safe and out of the way. At first, you cringed a bit at the thought of Arthur and John being alone together for any extended period of time without any sort of buffer between them. They’ve been arguing a lot lately. While John has been trying to make an attempt at making his relationship with Abigail and Jack work (albeit a sometimes feeble attempt), Arthur is still quick to be irritable and impatient with him. You have to bite your tongue to refrain from reminding Arthur that he himself had a hard time coping with fatherhood when it was first thrust upon him. That is certainly a fight that you just do not want to have with him.

But on a positive note, the whole camp is excited with the new opportunity. A new area means new towns, new people, new goods available. And new jobs. But with that also comes more attention. The pressure of the local law is constantly present upon the gang and seemingly increasing of late. But Dutch seems to think he can continue to stay one step ahead. It’s a good thing for everyone that the Devil himself doesn’t have the confidence that Dutch Van Der Linde has. Otherwise the entire world and heaven above would be in trouble.

After getting everything settled with the new camp, Arthur decides that it’s time to pamper you a little. While out scouting the nearest little town he gets the idea to treat you to a stay at the local hotel for a hot bath, a real bed, and some private time alone for just the two of you. The town of Trimble is new and quaint. When Arthur tells you that he’s already told Dutch that the two of you will be out of camp for the next few days, your squeal of excitement is reward enough.

You are so looking forward to being alone in a hotel with Arthur for the first time. To be away from the prying eyes of camp and to not be interrupted every five minutes for one thing or another.

It's cloudy and overcast the morning that you are to leave. Although the temperature is brisk, you are warm with excitement. You are sure to clean yourself up and fix your hair to look pretty. You want everything to be perfect. You've always been a bit self-conscious of your appearance, but you’ve always managed to put yourself together well. Corsets help, of course. The belief has always been that if you were done up with curled hair and a bit of rouge on your cheeks, it would distract from the way your curves are hidden within a pretty dress. As you stand in your tent and finish pulling at the lavender-colored cotton of your sleeves, you hear a slow whistle behind you.

“Look at you! Pretty like a meadow flower. Ain’t I a lucky man.” Looking over your shoulder, Arthur stands at the opening of your shared tent, one arm slung up to hang from the top of the tent support pole, the other hand tucked lazily into his belt. A grin of approval sits upon his handsome face as his eyes float up and down over your frame.

“Why, thank you,” you giggle, blushing slightly. “Don’t forget to give yourself time to clean up, too, before we go.”

“What?” His face quickly turns to a pout like a confused child.

“Hey, I spent a lot of time getting myself put together for you,” you playfully scold him. Arthur’s eyes follow your nimble fingers as they adjust the delicate earring you are popping into your ear. Thoughts of his teeth nibbling on that same earlobe last night skitter distractedly through his mind.

“That’s your own fault,” he teases, refocusing on the conversation at hand. “I think you look perfect the way you were.”

Oh, how your heart does a somersault at his genuine flattery. No one has ever spoken to you the way that Arthur does. “I’m sure you do. But listen, I want to look nice for you, okay? And, besides, I can’t be the only good-looking one walking around.”

“Sweetheart, that’s going to be the case regardless of what I manage to put together with this.” He waves at himself dismissively. You take notice of the dried mud stains on his faded brown shirt and vest and make a mental note that his threadbare jacket needs mending yet again.

“Shut it, that’s my man you’re talking about.” You shoot Arthur an impish glare as you walk over to him, placing your hand along his ribs. “Now wash yourself up or I’ll be forced to do it for you.” You grab his chin and pull him down for a quick peck on the lips.

Arthur playfully raises an eyebrow at you. “You flirtin’ with me already?”

Your laugh carries through the air as you walk past him out of the tent and head over to where Mary-Beth and Tilly sit. They promised to help you set your hair before you leave.

He grumbles about it, but Arthur concedes to the task, knowing how excited you are for your little holiday. He washes his face in the basin you set out for him in the tent, noting how the dirty water runs over his fingers and cringes at how you were right as usual. He even goes so far as to shave for you. Not too clean, but keeping the beard stubble to the length that you prefer. He wipes his chin with his shaving towel, observing you as you flit about the camp, preparing for your departure. You are absolutely giddy, giggling and whispering with the other girls as they offer to help you primp and prepare for your romantic stay. He smiles to himself, glad that he made that decision to get you out for a bit.

Arthur feels as if he’s finally met his match with you, the one person who is brave enough to love him as he is, and strong enough to handle all of him, even the broken parts. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want the world, you just want to feel safe and secure in his world. You have made him that one promise that he’s ever needed to hear in his life and that is to never give up on him. And he wants to do whatever he can to make that an easier choice for you.

As you pack your saddle bags and get the horses ready for the ride, Hosea strides over to give the two of you a quick reminder to behave and be mindful. The gang is new to the area and still getting its bearings. You all need to lay low until you know what you’re dealing with.

“Now remember, no fighting. No stealing. No riots. I don’t need to be making a house-call to the local jailhouse to bail you out so soon.” As he speaks, you watch the smoke rise from Hosea’s cigarette and circle his head like a crown, his eyes squinting slightly at the burn.

“We’ll be fine.” Arthur rolls his eyes dismissively at the older man as he finishes tying up Buck’s saddle.

“I’m talkin’ about you specifically,” Hosea stresses, poking his finger into Arthur’s chest. “I’m not worried about Y/N acting like a fool.”

“Calm down. I’ll have her along with me.” Arthur waves his hand towards you. “She’ll keep me straight and make me tow the line.”

“I hope so. But you’re also a bull in a china shop when it comes to her.” Hosea tips his head in your direction. “Just keep your head about you, would you?”

“I got this, ‘sea.” You flash a smile and give the man a kiss on the cheek right below his graying temple. “I’ll make sure Arthur stays in line.”

Hosea’s scowl at Arthur turns to a loving grin at you. “I’m sure you will, my dear. Because you’re the only one with any damn sense around here.” He affectionately pats your hand.

“Hey!” whines Arthur, defensively. Hosea waves him off, giving one last “be careful”, and walks back towards his chair. Arthur turns back to you and swats your arm. “Kiss-ass.”

You can only roll your eyes with a short laugh as you finish packing Blue’s saddlebags.

————————————

The ride to Trimble doesn’t take too long, only about thirty minutes on horseback. The sun is still fighting to break the clouds and the wind kicks up, churning the last remnants of fall leaves on the ground at your horses’ feet. It’s late morning by the time you arrive and the townspeople are already bustling about. Arthur was right, the town is quaint and charming.

As you lead your horses down the street, you look up excitedly at the approaching hotel sign. The two of you get your horses hitched to the post outside just as an idea comes to you and you search the street to see what is around.

You point at the general store which is a couple of doors down. “Before we head to the room, I want to make a quick stop.”

“For what?” asks Arthur as he follows you next door, his gaze lingering on the hotel instead. He is anxious to get to your room and begin your stay together.

“I want to get a few things. Some food, things like that.”

“They have food at the hotel, you know,” he huffs. You can hear Arthur’s boots scrape against the wood of the boardwalk behind you as he slightly drags his feet, reluctant to be side-tracked with any errands.

Pausing just outside the door of the store, you turn with a smirk. You press yourself up against him, purposely pushing your cleavage against his hard chest. “I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of even being dressed, let alone leaving that room for the next two days, mister.”

Arthur’s eyes roll shut, head tilting back for a moment with a groan at the very thought of being blissfully naked for two full days. When he looks down into your beautiful face again, his sapphire eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Woman, I’m gonna make you sing like the angel you are,” he growls out.

“Such things you say, Mr. Morgan,” you purr back with the most unladylike smile.

“I’m trying my best to be a gentleman right now, Y/N. But if you keep lookin’ at me like that with the devil in your eye…we’re fucking on the closest thing I can find to bend you over on.”

Your legs actually quiver at the thought. You know you shouldn’t be excited by such vulgarity. But then again, you can’t help but be tempted to tease this theory of his as he leans over you so close that you can feel the heat beginning to radiate off of him, even in the chilly air.

“I have to warn you, Arthur, I may scratch and I may bite.” Your fingertip runs down his cheek and along his jawline.

“You’ll crawl and beg, too, when I’m done with you,” he promises.

A sultry giggle erupts from your lips as you reach up to place a short, yet heated kiss upon his plump lips. Arthur then dips in closer to place a quick love bite along your neck, drawing a quick little yelp from you.

Your focus is broken when you hear an annoyed tsk from somewhere next to you and you catch the disapproving glances from an older couple who are passing along on the street. You quickly clear your throat, tapping Arthur’s shoulder to indicate that he needs to stop this little scene. You blush, hiding your face into your hands, and lean into his chest with an embarrassed little groan.

“C’mon” chuckles Arthur as he places a kiss to the top of your head, “Let’s get this little errand of yours done so we can get started. Looks like we’re on borrowed time.”

It is a quick shopping trip inside the store for you. The little shop is kept neat and well-stocked, with natural light pouring in through the windows along the front. Dried herbs and woven baskets hang from the ceiling and barrels of various items line the walls. The store has everything from grains to produce, from ropes and hammers to books and socks.

Arthur leans against the sales counter as you walk about the store to grab a few things, such as some fruit, dried meats, a loaf of bread, a small brick of cheese and a bottle of cheap wine. In and out within a few minutes and then you and Arthur head back towards the hotel.

Walking into the establishment, it is warm and cheerful. It is a fairly large open area with the front desk centered along the back wall. To the left is what seems to be a small restaurant-cafe with a mixture of aromas drifting through the enclosed space, and to the right is a sitting room where some of the guests are playing checkers while sipping on coffee. The woodwork is white-washed and simple paintings adorn the walls.

Behind the desk is a short, plump woman, looking to be about in her 50’s. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, with streaks of gray ribboning through it. She sets down the book she is reading and peers over her spectacles when she hears the bell above the door ring as you and Arthur come through the threshold.

“Afternoon, folks,” she greets you with a wide, toothy smile. “What can I do for you?”

Arthur strides up to the desk, placing his hands upon the smoothly painted wood. “The lady and I need a room. We’ve been on the road for a bit, so we’d like some privacy, if you don’t mind,” he stresses. “Peace and quiet, that sort of thing.” He fills out the ledger she pushes towards him on the counter.

“Of course, Mr…Callahan.” She nods as she reads the name scrawled in his handwriting. “Well, I have the room at the far end of the hall that’s empty. No one else on that side.” She points up the stairs and to the right. “It’s the smallest room I got, but it’s going to be the quietest.”

“We don’t need big. We need private,” Arthur says, rather short and curt in his demeanor and the woman gives him a curious look.

“Newly weds”, you quickly interject as if answering the woman’s unasked question with a radiant smile on your lips as your nose wrinkles with excitement. You lace your arms around Arthur’s as you lay your head against his shoulder, playing up the act. Arthur looks over at you with a smirk.

“Oh!” She smiles back. “How sweet.” But her face drops a bit when she looks at your hand. She looks puzzled as you follow her gaze.

“I don’t wear my ring when we travel.” You flutter your fingers for emphasis. “A lot of questionable folks in this area. You understand.”

She smiles again and nods. “Of course. I don’t blame you, Miss. Enjoy your stay.” She slides the room key to Arthur, pointing in the general direction you need to head. You both thank her for her kindness and quickly make for the staircase to head upstairs.

As you walk down the hallway, Arthur leans down to your ear. “‘Questionable folks’? If only she knew.”

“Shh! Don’t worry about that now,” your voice floats with a wispy tone. “We’re not outlaws for the next two days. We’re just-“

“Newly weds.” He smiles down at you.

“That’s right. Newly weds.” You grin ear to ear back at him. “And I think we have some ‘consummating’ to do.”

You come to the end of the hall, arriving at Number 6. Twisting the key into the slightly stubborn iron lock, Arthur pushes the door open for you. You step into the room and survey your temporary lodging. Your mouth gapes slightly, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. It's adorable.

The room is in fact small, but offers enough space to move about comfortably. It’s painted a simple white, bright and airy, to match the lobby with little pitchers of dried flowers on the one small table in the room and on the one dresser that is available. White eyelet curtains swag across the two small windows that flank the bed that sits in the middle of the wall. A beautiful mauve comforter adorns the mattress with a metal frame securing it. You smile wickedly as you have plans for that headboard.

Arthur steps in behind you as he closes the door and heads over to the small fireplace to get a fire going. You set your few things on the small table and make your way to the bed. Your hand runs along the soft bedding, gliding along the surface as if trailing your fingertips through water. It’s been awhile since you've experienced such finery, such as it is. Slowly lowering yourself down onto the bed, you lay backwards, letting the muscles of your back unknot themselves as you take a deep calming breath. The feeling of the fluffy quilt envelops you as if you are floating on a cloud as you sink back, the scent of clean linen wafting in the air.

“Oh, I almost forgot what a real bed feels like.” A deep and lazy sigh exhales from your chest, making the bodice of your dress float. When you open your eyes, you see Arthur watching you intently. “Are you going to join me?”

Arthur’s only answer is a grin as he proceeds to take off his gun belt, laying it across the table next to your bags with a slight thud and strides over to you, his vivid eyes shining. As he approaches the bed, you roll to sit up on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck with a giggle and sweetly kiss him. His large, warm hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer to him as he smiles into your mouth in return. Suddenly, you stop, pulling back to look at him.

“Do you hear that?” you whisper.

Startled, Arthur’s eyes narrow as he tries to listen. His body stiffens slightly as a defensive reflex.

“Silence”, you breathe even lower. “There’s no one. No Dutch. No Susan. No Sean. And -” you pause for emphasis- “no Micah. Just you and me.” Your eyes gleam ecstatically as you collect his face into your gentle hands.

A huge smile slowly blooms across Arthur’s face as reality has fully hit him now. ‘Just you and me.’ It’s a beautiful little sentiment, isn’t it?

“Well, let’s not waste a single minute of it, then,” he says. He gently forces you back down to the bed as he lays himself over top of you. You giggle as your arms wrap around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling him to you. After a few tender moments of soft kisses, Arthur rolls to lay along your side and his hand splays across your stomach, sliding down to knead the tender skin there. You rotate your hips to press against him, your leg coming up to slot with his. When your hand comes to rest over his heart, Arthur places his own over top of it, holding it there.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get lost in your own little universe. Arthur’s hands begin to move faster, just as his lips do. The kisses become more passionate, the moaning and heavy breathing escalates. Grasping and pinching takes hold of your extremities.

The world outside the walls of this tiny rented room ceases to exist and fades away. The only things that matter are you and Arthur. You do not hear the horses and chatter from the street below. You do not smell the dinner being prepared in the kitchen of the hotel. You can only feel the soft bed beneath you and the hot skin of the person you are entwined with. And you only see the loving face that hovers in front of you.

Arthur suddenly stands up to unbutton his shirt and pull his trousers off. While he is occupied, you quickly whip off your blouse and your underclothes along with it. You grab a hold of the strings of your skirt when he abruptly stops you.

“Hold on,” Arthur murmurs, holding his hand out over your fingers. He gets that lustful look in his eyes that you know all too well. “Do it real slow-like. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

Your eyelashes flutter as a crimson-blush floats across the apple of your cheeks. But you oblige, of course, coyly pulling at the strings, your fingers daintily raised in emphasis.

Once the skirt is gone, Arthur tenderly reaches down and lifts your legs one at a time to take off your boots, leaving each foot resting on his abdomen. You curl your toes and flirtatiously extend your legs up to hook them under the collar of his union suit. Deftly using your feet, you push the sides of the fabric down over his muscled arms to expose his chest and effectively spread your legs wide for him in the process.

He pauses at the sight, eyes dark and carnal. He swallows thickly before he even attempts to speak. “Just be warned, I’m about to break you in half, woman.” His fingers trail over your calves in anticipation.

You smile mischievously and run your foot along the front of his thigh. “Oh, I surely hope so, mister. I was counting on it.”

The way Arthur makes you feel about yourself is unparalleled. He makes you feel beautiful and loved. Never in your life have you ever felt so wanted and desired. He is a man who has little in this tumultuous world so he values the things that he does have. And the idea that Arthur treasures you above all things sets your heart to flutter. He is strong and unyielding. And yet, you, simply you, have captured his heart to hold him hostage. While you calm his restless soul, he in turn makes you feel vibrant and alive.

Before you can say or do anything more, Arthur grabs your legs, yanking you closer to him as a squeal escapes from your lips until your rear sits at the edge of the bed. He kneels down in front of you, tossing your legs over his broad shoulders as your thighs slowly fall open for him.

Arthur cradles your leg to him as he places languid kisses along your plush limbs. Starting from your knee, his hot tongue darts in and out as his lips travel along the soft skin to your plump thighs, creeping his way towards your heat. He moves agonizingly slow, but the sheer feeling of it makes time stand still.

You sit up on your elbows and watch him work, delighted in how much he revels in the experience. Arthur fully plans on indulging himself and taking complete advantage of the situation. No interruptions, no nosy eyes and ears. The comfort and warmth of a proper shelter lending to the tender atmosphere. Arthur will covet every little thing and every single moment that he has with you for the next two days.

His strong hands float across the skin of your thighs to meet where his mouth is, coming together at the apex between your legs. Your breath hitches as his thick fingertips gently graze over the tender folds of skin. Your mouth gapes slightly at the incredible sensation. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he assesses the treasure before him. A quick look up to catch your loving gaze before he dips down, his tongue dragging along the slit of your heat. Your eyes instantly flutter with a staggered breath ghosting from your lips. He begins to wag his tongue back and forth, basking in your taste. Before long, he slides his finger up along the skin, sliding in and out, covered in your wetness.

The two techniques in conjunction cause you to moan loudly. Your head falls back between your shoulder blades causing your breasts to angle up higher for his viewing pleasure. But you bite your lip to try to stifle yourself out of habit, afraid someone will hear.

“Go ahead and make all the pretty little noises you want, Darlin’. Ain’t no one gonna hear ya,” Arthur smirks. He runs his palm over your mound, gently massaging the flesh there.

“We’re not alone in this building, you know,” you pant, trying to catch your breath already. “Someone will eventually hear.”

“No one I care about.” He gives you that wicked wink.

You shoot him a kittenish look as he sets about his work again as if determined to prove his point. His mouth works you over with more force this time, completely encompassing your heat, as a second thick finger is added. Your arms give out as you drop to the mattress. You mewl and moan as you completely give in, and the sounds coming from your panting mouth only encourage Arthur to go faster and deeper. He tightly wraps his arm around your leg, pulling your hips open even more to give him access to your core. His tongue flicks over that sensitive bud, sucking and releasing while his fingers push and retract, curling as they move along the velvety walls inside you.

The muscles in your abdomen tighten as your orgasm explodes within you. You practically scream as your hands fist the blanket under you until your knuckles turn white, your whole body spasming under Arthur’s arms as he holds you in place. But instead of leaving you spent, it makes you crave even more.

“Arthur?” Your voice is breathless and shaky.

“Hmm?” He asks smugly, going back to leaving slow kisses along your thighs again. The feeling of his beard prickling your sensitive skin makes you shudder.

“I’m positive that this is only the beginning of what you have in mind. So whatever you’re going to do next, you had better get started. Because I can’t wait much longer to feel you inside me properly.”

His eyes meet your half-lidded ones, which are lust-drunk and captivating. “You got me wrapped around your pretty little fingers, you know that?”

“You got it all wrong, my love. It’s gonna be me wrapped around you. Now get over here.” You lift your leg to use it to pull him up to you.

The little term of endearment melts his heart and Arthur quickly stands to pull off the rest of his clothing in a hurry before he climbs over you, the muscles of his back rippling as he hurriedly moves to meet your lips. Your hands greedily run into his hair and then fan-out over his broad shoulders. Your legs wrap around his lower half as he sinks down over you. You can feel his hard cock rub against you and you groan into his mouth. He’s hard as a rock, his tip hot to the touch. God, you want him so badly right now. You impatiently reach between you to wrap your soft hand around his member, pumping and stroking him and he hisses in your ear in response, biting on your neck.

Arthur sits up on the bed, resting back on his heels so that he can get a full view of you. Your body writhes lying beneath him, your arms extended to run your hands along his thick thighs and across his lower abdomen. The tips of your fingers trail through the hair that makes its way towards the “v” of his groin.

Arthur teases your opening with his cock, watching as your eyes roll back. Once he’s graced the entrance, he grabs your knees and pushes his hips forward, sliding himself into your warm cunt. You clench around him as if to trap him inside of you, never to let him leave. He is entranced by the way your back arches backwards, practically bent in half, as he pushes inch by heavenly inch, in order to achieve the greatest reach.

“C’mon, baby, dance for me,” he utters.

Arthur studies the beauty of your eyes as he begins to thrust into you. He knows every line of your face from watching you from afar and viewing you up close. Leaning over you, he caresses your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his calloused hand even more. He cherishes you as he holds your face in his palm. You are totally, and absolutely, his. Sighing deeply with such affection, he gathers your hair in his fist, sliding his fingers back into your locks to pull your head back.

At one point, you try to push him over to take control, but he isn’t having it. Arthur is too lost in his own lust to give up control now. When he feels you push against his chest, he collects your wrists into his much larger hand to pin them over your head into the mattress. He grabs your leg and hooks his powerful arm under it to keep you exactly where he wants you as his thrusts pick up speed and force.

Up until now, you and Arthur have been heated, but nothing like this. He looks down at you, taken in at how you need him just as much as he needs you. He is speechless and suddenly greedy for more. He suddenly pulls himself out of you, and you gasp in disappointment at the sudden emptiness. Your eyes shoot wide open, eyebrows furrowed and questioning his motives. But he acts quickly. Arthur’s hands wrap around your sides as he abruptly flips you over on the mattress and pulls you up on all fours by your hips.

He reaches around and rakes his fingers over your heat, gathering some of your wetness to lubricate himself. Taking himself in hand, Arthur places his throbbing tip against your heat again, but this time from behind, rubbing back and forth to nestle between the sensitive folds. The mewl that drops from your lips is both animalistic and divine as your eyes screw shut as you take him again. He pushes himself into you, a loud grunt of his own filling the air.

You’ve never done it like this before. This was something you’ve heard whispered but never experienced yourself.

With this angle, Arthur’s cock drags along the roof of your cunt, dragging across nerves that are being teased in a whole new way. The upward diagonal direction of his grinding feels different, yet exponentially amazing. He’s trying to be mindful to see if you are okay with this new “experiment”, not wanting to cross a line, but he quickly loses himself. His head is spinning and he shoves himself into you, hips snapping sharply.

Stars begin to cloud your vision as your senses become overwhelmed. You feel him everywhere, inside you and all around you. You feel as if you could burst into flames right now. You’re not sure where your head is at, probably lost in oblivion, but you turn your chin to your shoulder. And watching Arthur’s face contorted in pleasure sets you off on a whole new level of desire. In a surprising act of boldness, with a breathy little whimper, you simply mutter the word “harder”.

Silly girl that you are.

Recognition flashes in Arthur’s eyes as his fingertips dig into your hips. There’s a quick smack to your ass-cheek as if sending his horse into a gallop and he’s off.

Arthur begins to pound into you relentlessly now, knowing that you are enjoying this as much as he is, sending your skin shuttering with each blow. He begins to grunt loudly as his hips snap at an increasingly faster pace. You can feel the bed itself shifting under you from his force.

With the unabated jarring of his pelvis, you lose your balance and your arms give out. Your forehead drops, digging into your forearms, but it also raises your hips even more, adding to the heavenly sensation.

Arthur eventually wraps his arm under your rib cage and pulls you up to hold you against his broad chest. The burly arm wraps around your shoulders while the other snakes down your front to fondle the delicate skin of your heat again. His mouth latches onto your neck, his forehead digging into your temple. In an attempt to grasp onto something to anchor yourself to this planet, your own arm reaches behind you to wrap around behind Arthur’s head, your fingers clenching the thick waves of sandy-blonde hair as you cry out his name. It always sends him into a heated frenzy to hear you say his name laced with such wanton desire. Sometimes, you’ll even simply whisper his name into his ear when you are just sitting by the fire, innocently nestled in his lap.

The air is filled with the scent of sweat, leather, and cigarette smoke, coupled with the rose-water you washed your hair with. Your moaning and Arthur's lustful grunts echo loudly within the small space, the sound bouncing off of the walls like a sinful orchestra.

Arthur’s powerful arms wrap around you like a large jungle snake, restrictive and making it hard to catch your breath. He holds you as if afraid to let go, afraid that you could be taken from him. Or worse yet, leave of your own accord. This whole thing is still so new to him. As wonderful as you are, there is still that sliver, that crack in his black, broken heart, that this is all too good to be true. He is still waiting for that hammer to fall and crush his fragile dream. And yet still, Arthur keeps barreling forward with his cock buried inside of you, hips bucking, until your head snaps back with your second orgasm.

Once you’re spent, your body goes limp in Arthur’s arms. His own pace sputters as he reaches his own climax shortly after you and he pulls himself out to finish on the back of your legs.

Panting heavily, you are lightheaded and collapse onto the bed under you, thankful for the cushioning that catches you.

Arthur slowly leans over you as his chest tries to recapture air into his lungs. His hands rest on either side of your body, allowing his forehead to rest between your shoulder blades. Eventually you can feel his lips leaving soft little kisses along your back.

“Good Lord, Arthur,” you chuckle, you back arching like a cat in response to his lips scattering across your skin.

“I did warn you.”

“That you did.” A satisfied hum leaves your trembling lips as you flip back over and catch him between your legs, trapping him between your thighs. His face and chest glisten with a thin sheen of sweat, even in the chilled room. “Just remember, Arthur, payback is a bitch.” And the look of absolute adoration fills his eyes at your statement.

You find the energy to sit up, propping yourself up on one elbow with the other arm slung around his shoulders. Foreheads affectionately touch together while you both catch your breath. You pepper Arthur’s face with kisses, causing the most adorable chuckle to spring from his mouth.

“This was such a good idea,” you sigh.

“Probably one of my better ones, for sure,” he agrees.

“You realize this is where we live now, right?”

“If only that were true.” Arthur gives you a sweet but sad smile before nudging your nose with his. You’ve noticed that it’s a gesture of affection that he often does with you, one that you know is meant to say ‘I love you’ without having to say it out loud.

“Well, then let’s make the most of the time we have,” you whisper. You gently pull him over you like a blanket, wrapping your arms and legs around him, your lips pressed to his. He sinks into you again with pleasure.

You spend the rest of the evening lying naked upon the bed, staring into each other’s eyes. You talk about different things, snickering and laughing, and just simply enjoy each other’s presence. You make love two more times before falling blissfully asleep in each other’s arms at some point into the very-early morning while the stars still shine in the sky, completely exhausted.

The next morning, as the sun needles its way into your windows, you roll over and bury your face into your billowy pillow. It was a late night and the idea of sleeping-in with no one hollering for you to begin work is so satisfying. You stretch your legs, wiggling a bit into the sheets and blankets. The fabric is soft wrapped around your bare body.

When Arthur’s arm enfolds you from behind, pulling you back and tucking you against him, you begin to smile softly. His much larger frame presses against the entire length of yours, making you feel safe and comforted. If heaven on Earth exists, it is right here in this tiny room, nestled quietly within this little hotel.

And it is in this blissful moment that the overwhelming realization washes over you. That there is so much more to life than simply surviving it. There is Arthur. There’s the two of you, planning and building a life together.

—---------------------------------------

After a day and a half of being holed-up in the hotel room, you and Arthur decide to head out to the saloon for a change of scenery. The fresh air and sunlight will do you both some good.

The last several hours have been spent alternating passionate love-making and catching up on much-needed rest, with Arthur taking some time to work in his journal while you relaxed and read a new novel that Mary-Beth loaned you.

You take your time in getting dressed, with no urgency to be anywhere. You have to keep swatting Arthur’s hand away when he keeps trying to undo the strings of your clothing the minute you have them tied. But eventually, you manage to get yourselves together and head downstairs.

The same woman who checked you in yesterday is sweeping the floor of the lobby and upon hearing footsteps from above, she looks up. But when she recognizes who is coming down, she shyly avoids eye contact, her face red as she sees the two of you descend the stairs. She goes back to her task, dragging the broom across the floorboards at a faster pace to avoid any awkward conversations. At first you don’t understand the behavior, but it quickly dawns on you that she must have heard your amorous activities last night.

“Whoops,” you whisper to yourself under your breath, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you walk through the lobby.

“Huh?” Arthur looks at you confused.

“Nevermind, just keep walking,” you chuckle, grabbing his arm and pushing him ahead of you and out the front door.

The saloon isn’t too far down, just about a five minute walk. With your arm linked with Arthur’s, you walk into the bar and look around excitedly. Arthur, however, is immediately on high-alert. He notices several heads turn upon your entrance, not to watch him for once, but to curiously eye-up the woman beside him. You are radiant. Your eyes are bright and cheeks flushed with color. You have a natural glow about you due to the past thirty-six hours in your hotel room.

Naturally you don’t notice the lingering eyes of the drunken patrons, but Arthur certainly does. He stiffens a bit in reaction to the gawking stares. But as soon as you wrap your arms around his bicep and lean in to whisper something in his ear, everyone knows who’s arm you’ll be on tonight.

Arthur knows it’s selfish, but for once, he is the envy of everyone. And his chest proudly puffs out a bit as he escorts you with a swagger in his step through the room to a table.

A waitress brings you and Arthur drinks and you sit comfortably in the corner, nuzzling up on each other, minding your own business. But it doesn’t take long for your privacy to be intruded upon.

“Hey, Arthur! Y/N!” You hear John’s raspy voice cut through the noise of the saloon. Looking up, you see him and Abigail making their way to your table. “See? Told you they’d be here,” he says to Abigail.

You and Arthur are a bit speechless at first, not expecting to see anyone you know tonight. “What are you two doin’ here?” Arthur asks.

“Needed to get Abigail out of camp before she plants a knife in someone,” snickers John as he pulls a chair out for the woman to sit before pulling out a second one for himself and tossing his lean leg over it to settle in next to her.

“Damn idiots, being stupid!” she hisses as she plunks down onto the hard wooden chair. You nod in acknowledgement with a sigh, as you completely understand Abigail’s frustration. And although you are disappointed that your time with Arthur is being interrupted, you are happy to see that John and Abigail are trying to spend a little time together, too and you all proceed to have a drink together.

And soon enough, the doors swing open and in walks Sean, Karen, Lenny, and Charles as well.

Arthur’s head turns when he sees them and you are quick to catch his groan and eye-roll. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath.

With a sigh of resignation, you lean your shoulder into his. “I suppose you’re right, you could never leave the gang and go off on your own. Everywhere you go, they follow.” You nudge your chin in their direction with a slight laugh.

“Oh no, don’t blame me on this. They follow you around just as much as me now,” he teases. “And besides, it’s ‘we’ - we couldn’t go off on our own. It’s you and me, remember?”

“That’s right.” You smile brightly and lift your beer bottle to clink to his in a toast.

“Ah, well would ya look who it is!” exclaims Sean as he wraps his arm around Karen’s shoulders and saunters over to your corner to join the four of you. And before you know it, Lenny and Charles grab a nearby table, dragging it closer to yours and the lot of you settle in for a good time.

The night carries on, with singing, dancing and many drinks to be passed amongst your friends. Lively music fills the air as the amber glow of the oil lamps begins to push back against the encroaching shadows of the setting sun. And all the while, you sit in the corner curled up to Arthur all night.

Abigail observes the two of you together throughout the evening and smiles to herself. She notices that it is the subtle things about the two of you that are so endearing. Arthur comes up behind you, his arm gliding around your waist as you lean back into him. Occasionally his head lowers closer to your cheek and you turn upward, your hand coming up to cup his face as you smile at him. Arthur doesn’t possessively plant kisses all over you in public, but just the slightest turn of his lips towards your temple as you speak. Or it’s his hand on the small of your back as you walk about. Even when he simply pulls your chair out and holds your arm to help you to sit, it is the simplest of loving actions that stand out.

Abigail’s smile widens as her chin sits in her hand. She is so happy for you both, but especially Arthur. He’s been through so much and has been so lonely for so long. She marvels at how different Arthur is now, at how time has changed him. John tries to show his affection in his own way, but nothing as soft and romantic as Arthur. Ironic how Arthur is the larger, more brutish of the two men, yet he is actually the softer of them.

Noticing that more drinks are needed, you head over to the bar to secure another round for your group. You lean on the wooden surface, patiently waiting for the barkeep’s attention when you sense a presence out of the corner of your eye. A man sidles up next to you, standing a little too close for comfort. You can’t help but to notice how his beady eyes rake over you, the smell of whiskey emanating off of him like a cloud.

“Evenin’!” Casting your gaze briefly to your right towards the scraggly voice, you notice the man is greasy and lean. His dark hair is combed back under his hat and he carries himself with a cocky air about him.

You give him a polite but quick, “Good evening.”

“Couldn't help but notice a pretty thing like you in a place like this. You must be new. How much you cost?”

Your lips pull inward, trying not to be offensive in your answer as you feel your face start to burn hot. “I’m not for sale. And even if I was, you couldn’t afford my rate.”

The man’s face drops a bit of its smugness, shifting his weight from hip to hip. “Oh, you’re one of those stuck-up girls, are you?”

“No. Just spoken for, is all.”

“Real shame. I could show you a good time.” The man licks his lips in a disgusting gesture, making your skin crawl. Even Micah is better behaved than this man.

A slow and measured sigh escapes your lips. “I’m already having a good time. With someone else.” Although your words are nice enough, the tone is laced with annoyance.

Meanwhile, Arthur’s eyes never leave you as he is watching very closely how this scene is playing out at the bar. He tunes-out the nonsensical blabbering of Sean sitting next to him as his hand tightens down around the bottle he is holding.

But you’ve decided you've had enough of the cretin’s advances and try to push past the idiot to return to your friends, and more importantly, to Arthur. But the man lays his hand on your shoulder, preventing you from leaving. “Now wait a minute, I ain’t done with you.”

“Oh, but I am done with you.” Your eyebrows raise to accentuate your point. “Now if you will excuse me.”

But he quickly grabs your arm, squeezing harshly. “I said-”

In this split second, time stands still and Arthur’s perception of things slows to a crawl as his vision sees red when your face twists up in pain from the harsh grab of this fool. Arthur springs up from his chair, tossing it backward with the force and a speed that belies his size, and he bolts over to the two of you.

Arthur clamps his massive hand around the man’s wrist with a crushing force, halting him in his tracks and peeling the drunk’s dirty fingers from your arm as he protectively moves you behind him.

“That’s enough. The lady said she ain’t for you.” Arthur steps menacingly toward the man, fists balled and his arm pulls back ready to launch, but he stops short when you place your hand on his forearm as a reminder that you are not supposed to be causing a ruckus while in town. The feeling of your fingers on his skin instantly grounds him, distracting Arthur from the sinister thoughts rolling around in his head.

Reluctantly, Arthur tries his best to calm down before he does something that he’ll regret. “Now you best leave it at that and walk away,” Arthur says, taking a breath.

“She belongs to you?!” the man sneers out as if in surprise.

“She don’t belong to no one, least of all you.”

“Well, if that’s the case, this doesn’t concern you, then. This is between me and the lady.” He waves his hand at you. “So you be the one leave it.”

Arthur takes a deep breath in, Hosea’s warning echoing in his head. “Right now, I need to see the back of your head getting smaller and smaller. Keep in mind that I can make that happen several ways.”

“Arthur, don’t,” you warn. “Don’t waste your time on this stupid fool.” You tug gently on his arm, hoping he will come back to the table with you without incident.

The drunk looks indignantly at you. “Who you callin’ a stupid fool, missy?” He keeps his eyes on you as he addresses Arthur. “You better get your little whore there under control,” lifting his chin in your direction. “Or I’ll have to do it for you.”

That is what lights Arthur’s fuse. “What the hell did you just say to her?” His eyes narrow as he takes another menacing step closer to the man, his shoulders squaring up.

You warily wrap your arm around his waist as another, more pressing physical reminder. “Arthur, you promised.”

“Better listen to the little lady, mister,” the drunk keeps pushing, taunting Arthur even further. “And besides, I’m sure I can take care of her better than you anyway…old man.”

Your eyes widen in shock and the room suddenly goes silent.

“Ah, shit,” John mutters from somewhere behind you. With a sigh, John snuffs out his cigarette and starts to roll up his sleeves. He knows exactly what’s coming next. So much for a relaxing night out.

Arthur’s jaw tightens as his teeth grit painfully together. And yet still, he’s struggling internally not to cross that line. For you.

You are impressed with Arthur’s self-control right now, as he did promise to behave himself tonight. But, you are not going to let anyone talk to Arthur like that.

With a slight nod of acceptance, you lovingly pat Arthur’s chest and carefully withdraw your arm from his waist and take a slow and very pronounced step back from him, effectively releasing your beast upon the saloon.

A menacing smile crosses Arthur’s lips as he realizes that like a once-caged animal, he is now free. The drunk’s face flashes confusion for only a second before Arthur’s fist flies, crashing into his jaw. The man’s body crumples haplessly to the floor, but Arthur is quick to grab him by the collar, landing another crushing blow to his face. And then yet another, causing blood to spatter through the air.

There is a sudden explosion of action all around you. You take several staggering steps backwards out of the way until your back collides with a solid wall of muscle. You gasp in a brief panic. But as you turn, you see that it’s Charles. And he is quick to grab you by the hips and lifts you up to sit on the bar, safely out of the way before heading to Arthur’s side. John is already at the ready, smiling cheekily as he throws punches at anyone that gets into his way.

The saloon quickly erupts into an all-out brawl. Chairs get tossed through the air and tables flip over as angry shouting erupts into the atmosphere. Arthur has already beaten the first idiot senseless and has since taken on two more that ineptly tried to jump him in their friend’s defense.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you watch Arthur’s bloodied knuckles land into yet another man’s ribs, lifting his body clean off the ground with the force of the blow. The poor man’s face contorts as if he is about to throw-up a lung. But he doesn’t have time to, as Arthur quickly heaves the man up and then slams him flat on his back to the floor, knocking him out cold. But Arthur quickly recovers to deliver an upper-cut punch to another approaching brawler, filling the air with the disgusting, gut-wrenching sound of bone cracking.

You cast a quick glance to the corner to check on the safety of your friends to find Lenny and Sean already in the thick of the fight as well. Karen is standing on a chair, cackling and hollering, encouraging the fight, while Abigail has tucked herself safely into a corner.

“Come on, Arthur! Knock his lights out!” hollers Karen, waving her beer bottle towards the surging mob.

While you are preoccupied with your friends’ safety, you are startled back to the action in front of you when a drunk gets thrown into you, his head landing in your lap. You yelp in surprise as you look down and immediately grab a bottle from behind the bar, smashing it on his head. The man is knocked senseless and drops to the floor at your feet.

After about twenty minutes of chaos, the fight ends just as quickly as it began. Arthur stands in the middle of the room, his chest heaving, with men sprawled out in unconscious heaps at his feet. He looks down at his knuckles, annoyed at the cuts and mess, and spits out a bit of blood from his cut lip onto the floor. He and John exchange a grin, an unspoken check that the other one is okay. Arthur then scans the room for Charles and catches sight of him just as he tosses some dimwit to the floor. Sean and Lenny stand next to each other, congratulating the other on a job well-done. All are accounted for and alive. A few new bruises, but thankfully none are worse for wear.

Finally, Arthur’s eyes search for you. He finds you still perched upon the bar. Your eyes are wide in astonishment and your chest rises and falls to catch your panicked breath. Arthur’s lips draw inward in guilt, realizing that he’s broken his promise to you. Shame begins to take hold of him, beating about within his rib cage like a bird in flight.

You are not blind nor indifferent to Arthur’s violent tendencies, but you are always so taken aback when you see it first-hand. He is always so mindful and careful with you. But with others, not so much. Arthur is one of those people where if he likes you, he loves you. If he hates you, heaven help you. And his sheer strength and volatility is a wondrous thing to behold.

Blood thunders in your ears as you stare at him, dumbfounded. Your heart races. And it beats for Arthur. It would bleed for him, too.

And then Arthur witnesses a most incredible thing happening. A smirk begins to blossom across your lips as you hold his gaze. Instead of turning in repulsion from what he’s done, you cock an eyebrow at him as you silently hold your arms out, reaching for him.

Without a word, Arthur walks through the minefield of bodies, stepping over arms and legs that are bent at odd angles. He sets his bruised hands upon your waist and gently lifts you down until your small feet touch the dusty floor. You smile up at him, lifting your thumb to gently swipe away the bit of blood that stains his bruised face.

“Let’s go,” you whisper to him as you tuck your arm around his. He doesn’t say anything, only gives you a slight smile and nods, leading you towards the door.

And as you make your way through the crowd, you pause to stand over that first drunk, the one that started this whole mess. He is still sprawled out unconscious on the floor in a deep crimson pool of his own blood. You look down with a frown and promptly kick him in the ribs before heading to the doors.

As soon as you get outside, the cold air hits you in the face with an exhilarating jolt. Rushing down the few steps of the saloon, you abruptly spin into Arthur’s chest, reaching up to grab fistfuls of his hair as you pull him down to your lips. You hungrily kiss him, your tongue thrust into his mouth and trying to ignore how the taste of his blood from his busted lip excites you even more. When you pry yourself from his face, your bosom heaving with desire, you lock eyes with him. You have never been so riled up in your life.

“We need to get back to our room. Now.”

It only takes a second for Arthur to register the idea. “Right.” And he snatches your hand up into his, dragging you across the dirt street, your feet skipping to keep up with his long strides.

The moment you enter the hotel lobby, you sprint ahead of him, pulling him up the stairs behind you. The two of you bounce off of the walls of the hallway, knocking into meticulously placed picture frames as arms and hands grasp at each other. Lips desperately try to find and land on a patch of skin, any patch will do, in the process.

Reaching the door to your room, Arthur’s attention momentarily leaves you to fumble with the key to the lock, the last obstacle between you and sweet ecstasy. A childish pout graces your face at the loss of his lips on yours, and you are quick to reach up and latch your own to his neck, teeth grazing his beard-stubbled flesh. The moment your teeth sink into his neck, Arthur almost drops the key, a lustful groan involuntarily crossing his lips. His hips reflexively push you against the door for a moment, grinding in an effort to find the sought-after friction he needs. He tastes salty from working up a sweat during the bar fight. And you’ll be working him into a froth before the night is over, for sure. A mumbled chain of expletives drops from his mouth until he can get his fingers to work properly to fit the key into the lock.

He finally manages to free the heavy wooden door from its confines and barrels through the entryway, dragging you with him. You bumble ungracefully into the room which is still warm with the remnants of a fire burning in the small fireplace.

Your lips remain heatedly locked together as your hands make quick work of the buttons of Arthur’s shirt, roughly shoving the fabric back off his shoulders to expose his tanned skin. Your fingertips are already at the buttons of his pants while he is still fumbling with the strings of your dress, his large fingers unable to handle the small knots. Frustrated, Arthur grabs the seams, about ready to pull the damn thing apart and rip it off you when you abruptly stop, pulling back from him and grabbing his face. His eyes shoot open in surprise.

“Don’t you dare rip this dress, Arthur Morgan!” You snap sharply “You already owe me a new dress from the last one you ripped.”

He gives you a frustrated snort, like a bull about to charge, and a scowl of impatience on his handsome face.

A sultry smirk of empathy quickly floats along your face. With your hands placed on his chest, you push Arthur backwards, nibbling on his lips as you do, until his legs touch the edge of the bed. You sweep your foot against his, making him lose his balance as you aggressively push him over. His hat tumbles to the floor as his hands thread behind his head to watch you.

You step back and begin to untie the strings of your dress. You accentuate your movements as the ties become undone and you pull the fabric from your shoulders. You shake your hips a little with a dance as the rest of the dress falls from your supple hips to gather on the floor. Unable to look away from your little show, Arthur draws his hand over his mouth in anticipation. He is literally salivating at the idea of you.

Within moments you are bare as the day you were born and on display for him to take in the view. You pull at the pins holding your hair up and the thick waves tumble down around your graceful shoulders, the tips of the curls dancing across the smooth skin of your breasts. Arthur’s whole body actually shudders, making you smile at the control you have right now.

You stealthily climb over him like a cat stalking its prey, leaving kisses along his abdomen as you crawl along his muscled body. When he runs the back of his knuckles across your cheek, you take a hold of his hand, pausing briefly to assess the damage before placing your delicate lips to the cuts and bruises. You look into his eyes, beholding him with such love and affection.

“Now that you’ve seen what I really am, do you think you'll still keep lovin’ me?” Arthur asks. His question is said both in jest and in earnest.

“I’ve always known what you are, Arthur. I just didn’t realize that you were this beautiful.”

Tears would flood his eyes if he had the time to process what you’ve said. But you quickly pounce before his mind can spiral on you as you place one more heated and deep kiss on his mouth, your teeth pulling on his lips, before you backtrack to hover over his pelvis. He is rock-hard at this point, clearly visible under the denim of his jeans. You fish your hand under the fabric to pull out his large and swollen cock. Caressing it in your hand, you give a few quick pumps before your hot mouth envelops him.

Arthur’s eyes never leave you, raptly watching as you work. The sight of you handling him, of your mouth bobbing around his cock, is the most amazing thing to witness. His mouth falls open and his eyes roll back at the sweet pressure of your lips on his most delicate area, a euphoric mixture of pleasure and pain. Arthur flops back onto the bed, arms wobbly and unable to hold himself up anymore. His large hand comes up to grab a fistful of your soft hair, his palm working open and closed in an effort to pace himself.

You hum as your mouth bobs up and down his shaft and the gentle vibration travels through his skin like electricity, causing him to hiss and groan. Giving Arthur a taste of his own medicine, you pull along his cock faster, tightening the muscles of your mouth to squeeze a bit more, making him harder than ever. Your hand then reaches down to cup his testicles, rolling them gently amongst your soft fingers. Arthur’s breathing becomes increasingly sporadic as his mind is pushed to the limit and about to explode.

When you get to the point where you just can’t prolong your own release any longer, you pull his cock from your mouth with one last lick to the underside of his tip. You walk yourself up on your knees until your hips line up with his. With a wanton little whimper, you lower down onto him, his thick cock filling you to the point where he hits the back wall of your cunt. Your chin dips to your chest as your breath gets sucked in at the ever-tight fit. Likewise, Arthur lets out a hissing groan as his hands shoot upward to grip your thighs tightly.

You pause a moment to collect yourself and then slowly lift your lashes to meet his heated gaze. The outlaw sees his own lustful expression staring back at him in your shimmering eyes and his heart skips a beat because of it. A slow hiss from the back of your throat falls from your shaking lips as you take a moment to try to form coherent words.

Finally, you are able to focus long enough to string together only one thought out loud, which comes out in a husky whisper:

“I am going to ride you like a stolen horse, cowboy.”

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ashs-cardboard-box · 2 months

Text

The Sin of Envy

~ Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Child!Arthur Morgan/Child!Male Reader

~ Familial (found family)

~2.7k words

Request :3

....................................................................................................

You owed it all to the Van Der Linde gang. Having lost it all as a mere boy, you grew up on the streets for most of your life. Just a few months after you had turned thirteen, two co-founders of said gang picked you up and treated you like their own flesh and blood.

You thought of the two of them as your fathers. Hosea was a gentle, patient individual. He took over as your primary caretaker. Feeding you, teaching you to read, write, and pick apart safe from toxic herbs. As such, you were a lot closer to him, though that’s not to say you didn’t care for your other father figure.

Dutch was a more stern, focused man. He kept you in line should you disobey either him or Hosea. While he wasn’t as open about his affection towards you, his protection and observations over your well-being showed he had a heart.

Living with them for the next three years of your life were nothing short of great– as great as life on the road can be. Dutch and Hosea were slowly attempting to gather members for a gang, with little success. The two would always praise you for the fine young man you’ve grown to be, starting to teach you your way around a gun.

However, when another, younger, orphan boy was picked up in the same manner you were, you couldn’t help but feel a little off about it. Stubbornly standing a ways off to the side with your arms folded across your chest as your father figures feed the boy at one of the few tables around a newly formed camp.

You didn’t know his name, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. You wanted to march right up to them and ask Hosea to teach you again the proper positioning of your weaponry, but you didn't. Instead, you stand and stare as silently as possible.

Much to your dismay, Dutch is more observant than you thought. He looks over towards you and away from the new boy, that same blank expression on his face. “Boy. C’mere.” He beckons, pulling Hosea and the boy’s attention over to you as well.

Feeling awkward with their eyes on you, you shuffle over to the poorly constructed, wooden table. Slowly dropping your arms back down to your sides, your shoulders slouching forward slightly. “Ah, Y/N! I don’t s’pose we’ve introduced you to Arthur here!”

Hosea seems excited about the new addition to your family. A wide grin spread across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You and Arthur don’t say anything to one another. Staring at each other as if trying to read what the other is thinking.

Arthur looks away from you and turns back down to his food in front of him on the table. Stuffing his face as if he hadn’t eaten in a long while– a statement you could fully believe. He was scrawny, but you couldn’t deny the height the other boy had on you, only serving to make you more envious.

“He’s gonna stick around for a while. Found him the same way we found you, y’know.” Hosea points out with a chuckle as Dutch merely nods, turning back to his conversation with Arthur, almost seeming like a promise of a better life if he joined the gang.

You look back towards Hosea with a small sigh. Muttering a quiet “okay, papa” and giving your father figure a subtle smile. Accepting that as your agreement, Hosea joins their conversation once more, shutting you out.

You can’t deny the pang of resentment and jealousy building in your chest. Taking your leave and heading back to your tent to find something to do. You weren’t really used to being on your own anymore. After having to fend for yourself for the first decade of your life, you assumed you wouldn’t feel this way. Unfortunately, you got attached.

You’re not sure how long has passed of you sitting still on your bedroll, staring blankly at the floor, deep in thought, but you get caught off guard by a short “hey.”

Lifting your head, you find Arthur standing at the entrance of your open tent. The sun casting his shadow across the floor. You’re not sure why, but his presence just upsets you further. Your fingers beginning to fidget with one another as your hands rest in your lap.

“What’d’ya want..?” you grumble, trying to keep your harshness under wraps. He’s only two years younger than you, at fourteen, but that fact makes you feel worse. You’re scared. The last thing you want to be is an old toy your father figures toss aside for something new. Someone younger and much different from you.

Arthur shrugs with a hum of “i dunno.” While you got passed down some of Hosea’s old clothes as a hand-me-down, Arthur’s clothes are dirty and torn. The hems of his pant legs are frayed, the fragile strings flicking with each slight gust of wind.

“You wanna play dominoes?” He asks hopefully with a small tilt of his head. You don’t really want to be so mean to the new boy, but you can already feel that urge mounting. You take a deep breath before responding with a curt “no.”

“Well why not? You got somethin’ better to do?” Arthur asks curiously, but to you, it’s just plain obnoxious. Pushing yourself to your feet and crossing your tent. Walking right passed Arthur without another word to him.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you just didn’t stop walking. Right out of the small camp and heading wherever your feet took you. Slowly shuffling through the dense woods, brooding as your boots step over leaf after twig, crunching under your weight.

It wasn’t until you made it to the nearby town that you realized just what you had done. You were forbidden from leaving camp without either Dutch or Hosea until you could learn how to properly handle your gun. They just cared for you, after all.

Unfortunately, you had the bright idea to prove yourself to them. If you could prove you were strong, maybe they’d like you over Arthur again. You wanted your family to yourself again. You refused to be replaced.

Waltzing right into the budding city with nothing but false confidence keeping your head held high. Your mind darting over what you could possibly do to show you’re a strong man. The civilians didn’t bat an eye, seeming to not even notice you among the many other individuals.

Taking what little you’ve gathered from Dutch’s schemes with Hosea, you settled on pickpocketing. It seemed easy enough, and you could make a lot of money depending on who you choose.

Now looking at the surrounding people like nothing more than their wallets, you spot a shorter, older man waiting for the train with a newspaper held between his fingers. Perfect, you thought. Taking it upon yourself to take a seat next to him on the old wooden bench. He doesn’t seem to care about your presence; he’s far too enamored by whatever’s happening in the region.

Slowly, you slide your hand across the unsanded wood, feeling prick after prick of splinters threatening to pierce your skin. You’re too focused to care. Your eyes rapidly flicking from your hand, to the man, to something mundane in front of you to avoid seeming like you’re staring at him.

You make good progress. Getting as close as caressing the man’s pocket jean with your pinky, before you hear a ruffling of the newspaper, followed by a rough grip around your wrist, causing you to hiss in pain.

“The hell you think you’re doin’, kid?” The man demands, tugging your wrist away from his body, but not letting go of it. His face contorted into one of frustration at your audacity. You don’t respond, and that seems like the wrong choice to make. Staring doe-eyed at the man with a small grimace, wanting to be strong and not show pain nor fear, though you feel it all.

The man grunts in disapproval, giving your wrist a sharp tug and sending you down onto the floor of the train station. Propping yourself up on your elbows as you stare up at him, but you don’t run away. You’re not strong. You’re terrified.

“Someone oughta teach you a lesson, boy.” He spits coldly as he stands up, reaching down to tug you up by the collar of your shirt and drag you to your unsteady feet. Letting go of you and taking a step back putting up his fists, glaring at you to tell you to follow. “Be a man. Fight me for it.” he challenges

Feeling that false, stubborn confidence return, you put your fists up at the level of your eyes, copying the man. The man has both an experience advantage, and a physical advantage over you. He might be short in stature, but he’s bulky in his old age– seeming in his late fifties. You, on the other hand, barely hold your own when fake sparring against Dutch, only meant to be a teaching lesson.

Instead of letting you try and strike first, the man cocks you in the first hit. Your head knocking back as you take a right jab straight to the nose, causing your eyes to water. Your form curling into itself as you whine in pain. Your nose dripping blood down your lips and chin. The crimson liquid staining your hands.

Not giving you time to brace yourself, the man takes you by your shoulders and knees you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you as your knees give out. “Your daddy would be disappointed. You ain’t a man. Might as well become one of ‘em two dollar whores.” he scoffs a laugh, glaring down at you as if you’re the scum of the Earth.

All you can do is clutch your stomach with your entire forearm as your other hand clasps over your mouth. The blood from your nose dripping down the back of your hand and hitting the train platform with a near silent splat. Looking up at the man through watery eyes, choking back tears.

The man pays you no sympathy. Palming your forehead and shoving you backwards, causing you to land awkwardly on your back. Groaning quietly from behind your blood stained hand. He stares down at you coldly for a long moment before stepping away from you. Bending down to pick up his newspaper from off his spot on the bench before taking his seat again, acting as if nothing happened. “Get outta here, kid. If you know what’s good for ya.”

As soon as you regain the ability to breathe properly, you scamper to your feet and run off with your tail between your legs to go lick your wounds. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you retrace your steps through the town and back into the woods. Blood staining your face and shirt.

You’re reluctant to go back to camp. What were you supposed to say? That you were jealous of their new favorite and decided to go get your ass kicked? You stumble slowly through the woods, massaging your sore abdomen. Each time you sniffle due to your tears, only swallowing more blood than you should.

Staring at the empty clearing around twenty feet away, signifying the entrance of camp, you stop. You’re a mess. You feel completely emasculated, hurt and jealous. Wondering if the stray boy they call Arthur could’ve done better than you. You’re mostly silent. The only thing heard from you are small sniffles and pained whimpers.

Hearing a cacophony of different, yet familiar, voices all calling your name into the void of the woods, you feel even worse. You don’t want to be seen like this. Your face stained with blood and tears, dripping down the front of your shirt.

Before you can even consider heading inside on your own, you hear two sets of footsteps rapidly approaching you from your left. Quickly turning, you spot Arthur and Hosea– both seem terribly worried about your sudden disappearance, only made worse when they see the state you’ve been left in.

Arthur is the first to get to you. Gawking at you as if you’ve grown three heads, only causing you to turn away from him. Your tears continuing to shamefully roll down your cheeks. He’s the last person you want to see right now. Hosea, however, is a different story.

Hosea sighs heavily as he approaches, reaching forward and pulling you into a tight hug– just like he used to when you were younger. Resting your bloodied chin on Hosea’s shoulder, you wrap your arms around his frame tightly. Your fingers balling tightly around the back of his shirt.

“What happened to you, son? You know you ain’t s’posed to run off like that..” He chides gently, running a hand up and down your back soothingly. You mumble a meek “‘m sorry, papa” in response. Sounding more like a timid boy than a young man.

“It’s alright, boy.. You’re okay..” Hosea murmurs into your ear, letting you try and compose yourself despite the soreness of your body. A much harder task to accomplish with Arthur’s bright eyes on you. “Where’d you go? Why’d you leave?” he questions, not wanting to force you to respond.

“Th- The town.. Just nearby. I–” you pause, swallowing the uncomfortable concoction of saliva and metallic blood pooling in your mouth. “I- you just…” you’re not sure if you want to be honest or not. On one hand, Hosea could help with what’s weighing so heavily on your chest. On the other, he could ridicule you for getting into trouble over something so stupid.

“You ‘n Dutch got along with Arthur so well.. ‘n I got scared that y-you were gonna leave me for him. Wanted to prove I was strong so you wouldn’t think he’s better..” you sob, feeling it all come crashing down at the admittance of your envy. Arthur is taken aback by your statement, but Hosea seems unfazed. Only focused on making you feel better.

“It ain’t a game of favoritism, son. Dutch and I care for you boys equally. You’re real damn stupid for runnin’ off ‘n getting your ass beat, but that don’t mean Arthur’s any greater or lesser than the man you’re growing up to be, you understand?”

You nod slightly with another small sniffle, slowly pulling away from the hug. You wipe your eyes with your fingers on your clean hand, not keen on the idea of getting blood near your eyes. Hosea sighs as he inspects your face. You’re grateful he’s not upset with you, but you still feel guilty. You hadn’t even considered what a fuss you would’ve caused.

“Arthur,” Hosea starts, looking over towards the other boy, prompting him to look at Hosea with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Take Y/N back to my tent. Clean him up a bit, will you? I’ll let Dutch know he’s back” He lays out, leaving no room for disagreement.

Arthur copies you and nods, shuffling around you awkwardly and beginning to make his way back to camp. Tentatively, you follow behind. You’re not sure how you feel. It feels like a weight has been pulled off your shoulders, only to be replaced by a heavier weight of guilt for your jealousy.

Not a word is spoken between you two as you follow the younger boy back to Hosea’s tent. Your boots scuffing against the ground below until you slink down onto Hosea’s cot with a heavy sigh. Arthur wastes no time soaking an old washrag in alcohol and approaching you again. Carefully wiping the blood off your face.

“Sorry for..y’know- makin’ you jealous ‘n whatever. Never meant to..” He mutters quietly, focused on getting the dried blood off your skin. “It ain’t your fault.. Was just- scared, I guess..” you respond quietly, trying not to speak too much so as to not disrupt his work.

It felt uncomfortable to be getting cleaned up by the younger boy, but you can’t complain. Your leg mindlessly bouncing against the floor of Hosea’s tent. Sighing heavily from your nose as you let your sore body actually relax under Arthur’s care.

“You still up for that dominoes game?” You mumble quietly, a small smile spreading across your blood stained lips as you look up at Arthur hopefully. He stands up a bit straighter at your question before he rolls his eyes and gets back to helping you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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finished this on 2%

Hope you like it !! :3

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #hosea matthews x male reader #arthur morgan x male reader

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holyratrimony · 1 year

Text

Summer Love at Bighorn Ranch

Pairing: John Marston x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his divorce from Abigail, John Marston is a mess. A series of rash decisions lead to John purchasing a rundown piece of land called Bighorn Ranch. As the ranch grows, so does the need for extra hands. When you show up, ready for your new job, John is immediately taken with you. When you get caught in a thunderstorm and show up on his doorstep, soaking wet, will he be able to keep his feelings to himself, or will he confess everything?

Word count: 9.7k (how does this keep happening?)

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only, I’ll kick you in the knees I s2g, do not read this, dry humping, premature ejaculation, coming in pants, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, older man/younger woman

A/N: This takes place during the 90s, John’s in his forties, R is like mid-20s, Jack is like 10 in this, hedgehogs are not rodents but John doesn’t need to know that, also R wears John’s clothes at one point (as someone who's plus size I think John would own pretty baggy clothes), John is mega horny in this (in like a very pathetic way), how’d angst get in here? (it's just a lil bit), John thinks he is in charge but R has him wrapped around her finger, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, not beta read

To say John wasn’t doing well would be an understatement. After the divorce with Abigail, he’d hit a bit of a midlife crisis. The first step was moving out and subsequently crashing in Dutch and Hosea’s guest room. The two older men were patient with him, lending him some much-needed emotional support as he processed his feelings. After about a month, one drastic haircut, and a new earring, John finally was ready to move out to a place of his own.

He’d decided to return to his roots, taking out a rather large loan and purchasing a run-down ranch on a large piece of land in the middle of nowhere called Bighorn Ranch. The land was green and vast with a mix of plains and forests. It only took three days of him trying to lay the foundations for the house alone before giving in and calling Charles and Javier for help. The two men had come to his aid quickly, and with three hands they were able to get the ranch house built within just a few months. Then the barn, stables, and coup went up, followed by a half dozen small cabins about a mile from the main house. Both Javier and Charles opted to live in the cabins despite John’s protests, stating that they wanted to give him his space in the house. Ranching made sense to John. It was something he was good at. Whether it was keeping up with all the chores or breaking in the wild mare Charles found wandering the plains. As the ranch grew, so did the need for more hands. Javier had been tasked with taking the truck into the nearby towns, the closest being 30 minutes away, and hanging up help-wanted posters. The new ranchers would live on the property in the remaining cabins and would be responsible for a mix of construction, maintenance, and handling of the animals. Within a few weeks, four new hands had joined the ranch. The hands were set to arrive on a sunny spring afternoon. John was waiting on the porch with Charles and Javier, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. His hair was still growing back since the regrettable impulse cut, the ends reaching his ears. His beard was short, little more than stubble. The scars he’d gotten from a neighborhood dog when he was growing up cut through the dark hairs. He’d kept the small gold hoop in his ear despite the light teasing from Charles and Javier. The three men were discussing the horse show that was coming up next month when the sound of a car cut them off. The red and white Dodge Ram 2500 rumbled up the dirt drive, kicking up a small cloud behind it. The truck pulled up in front of the house, stopping next to John’s teal and silver Ford F-150. Three men in their twenties piled out of the truck, each sending a friendly smile and wave toward the older ranchers. John, Charles, and Javier made their way down the porch steps, John stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. The new hands introduced themselves, apparently all childhood friends which explained why they arrived together, shaking hands and giving names. After introductions, John showed the men around the main part of the ranch. Showing them the stables, the coup, and the different paddocks for the sheep, goats, and cows took up the better part of an hour. As they headed back towards the house John let them know that that was probably enough for right now. Once they were on the porch he explained the basic amenities in each cabin. They’d have electricity, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a bed, and a landline. John handed them each a slip of paper with the number for his line, letting them know that if they needed Charles or Javier they’d be living right next door. Charles offered to take the boys down to the cabins and Javier offered to join, citing that he needed to change out of his dusty work clothes. The boys hopped in their truck and followed after Javier and Charles, the cloud of dust slowly getting further and further away. John took a seat on one of the chairs on the porch, looking down over the property. There was still one new hand that was supposed to be arriving, likely within the next hour. John pulled another cigarette from his pocket, cupping his hand around his lighter as he flicked it, protecting the flame from the wind. Heady smoke filled his lungs as he leaned back. The three boys seemed nice. All were well-mannered and friendly. One of them, Riley, John thought his name was, said he’d worked at the MacFarlane’s ranch for a few years, dealing mainly with the horses. The other two mentioned they’d worked doing construction for the last few years. Apparently, they wanted more exciting work and while the MacFarlane’s didn’t have any more jobs available, they knew Bighorn was hiring and sent the boys in John’s direction. Javier had handled the applications, of which there were few. He was typically in charge of the business end of things despite the ranch belonging to John. Javier had a charm and refinement that was perfect for dealing with people and local businesses that John seemed to lack. John’s mind began to drift, as it often did when he was alone, to Abigail and Jack. He had Jack for a few days each month. The last time Jack came to visit, John had shown him how to ride. The two of them didn’t talk a whole lot but the time they spent together always felt special. Jack had a room in the ranch house, filled with his medieval fantasy books, a couple of his toys, and a small gaming setup with a sega genesis and little box tv. Jack had tried to teach John how to play Sonic but John was hopeless. His fingers were too big for the little buttons and he just couldn’t get the hang of moving that damn rodent around. He missed Jack, every damn day. Abigail too, but that was getting easier. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires on the dirt road. A grey and blue Chevy Silverado pulled up the drive. John stood up, a slight groan leaving his lips. He was only in his forties but his years of hard living seemed to be catching up to him. He moved down the steps, his eyes trained on his boots until the sound of a car door slamming shut had him looking up. John’s heart stopped. Or he couldn’t breathe. Or he died. He wasn’t sure. All he could tell was that the woman in front of him was like a dream. The late afternoon sun shone on your form, bathing you in a golden glow. Your eyes were covered by sunglasses, a black shirt adored your torso while your legs were covered by a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots on your feet. Your smile was easygoing as you raised a hand in greeting. Your voice was kind and warm as you greeted him. “Hi! I’m one of the new ranch hands. Are you Javier?” John let out a laugh at that, trying to compose himself. “No, no, I’m John. John Marston. I uhh… I own Bighorn.” He was trying not to let his eyes drag over your body but he couldn’t help himself. “Jav-Javier’s in charge of the business side of things, you’ll meet him later.” “Nice to meet you, Sir,” A spike of heat seemed to pierce through John at the title. The smile etched on your face was radiant as you gave him your name. God, you were pretty. John cleared his throat as he attempted to avoid looking directly at you. “The other hands got here bout an hour ago. They’re down at the cabins right now. Ya wanna join them or do ya wanna tour of the ranch?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. He couldn’t help but wishing you’d take the tour. Selfishly hoping to get some one on one time with you before introducing you to the other men. He finally mustered the courage to look up at your face. Your smile seemed almost shy as you replied, stepping towards him slightly, “I think I’d like to see the ranch, Sir.” He was fucked. ~~~~~~ Having extra hands on the farm proved to be endlessly helpful as spring turned to summer. The animals that had been born only a few weeks after you and the boys arrived were growing bigger and bigger. The four of you also helped John and Charles bring some of the horses to a show in one of the neighboring towns, bringing in a pretty sum of cash. John was beginning to feel a little more at peace. The loans for the ranch were beginning to get smaller and smaller as he paid them off. The stress on his shoulders seemed to be lessening as the weeks went by. His self-deprecating thoughts being replaced with thoughts of you. To say John was enamored would be putting it lightly. To start with you were a good worker. Often working longer hours than necessary, going until you felt the job was complete. At the end of the day, you’d slump onto the steps of the porch, your shirt sticking to your chest, your skin glowing, a blissed-out smile on your face. John would come out and offer you a beer. There would normally be only five minutes where you were alone before the rest of the men joined the two of you. John tried not to resent it, knowing he had no claim over you, but god he wished he did. John found himself staring at you as you moved around the ranch. Whether you were carrying bales of hay to the stables, pounding in nails on the fence you were fixing, or helping break one of the new horses. John would let his gaze drag up and down your body before catching himself. He would reprimand himself. Reminding himself that you were a. Almost twenty years his junior, b. Likey dating one of the younger hands (a thought that had made him prone to snapping at the young men without much prompting), and c. wouldn’t want a broken man like him. He’d scold himself, telling himself he was a pervert for looking at you like that, for wanting to take you, claim you. But he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts from creeping in late at night. When his rough hands fisted his cock and he’d think about you on your knees for him, your lips and tongue running up and down his length as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. Or how you’d feel wrapped around him. What you’d sound like as he took you from every position imaginable. How you’d react if he pinched your nipples, if he spanked you. Despite being alone in that big house he’d bite his fist as he came, moaning out your name as the drag of his hand became too much. When the lust had passed and his cock softened, cum drying on his stomach, and reality set in, he’d mutter to himself, “You’re a fool, Marston.” The sentiment never seemed to stick because he’d see you bend over in that pair of jeans the next morning and would be stuck fighting the arousal that seemed to surge through him for the rest of the day. He was jacking off like a teenager, seemingly unable to control himself. When he spoke to you he’d stumble over his words, never being able to fully articulate his thoughts before getting lost in your eyes or your smile. Charles and Javier had picked up on his infatuation. Relentlessly teasing him when it was just the three of them. There was one day you were going to run errands in town. You’d stopped by the house to ask if the men needed anything else picked up while you were there. The day was already blazing hot despite it only being midmorning and you’d opted for a sundress. The fabric was light and airy around your thighs, the neckline cutting down to show more of your chest than was strictly necessary. John, Charles, and Javier had been in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, when you knocked, letting yourself in through the front door. “Hello?” Your sweet voice echoed through the house. “In the kitchen,” Charles called back. When you entered the kitchen it took everything in John not to drop the mug he’d just grabbed from the cabinet. The flush on his cheeks was immediate. He could feel his jeans getting tighter as he took in your form. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly. He was only drawn out of his trance by Charles’ gentle elbow in his side. Luckily it seemed like you missed the small interaction. “Mornin’ y’all.” you nodded to Charles and Javier before turning to John. “I’m heading into town and was wondering if there’s anything you need me to pick up, Sir.” John could barely manage to shake his head. “T-that’s very nice of you but I think we’re all set sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. You nodded as you slipped your sunglasses onto your face. “Alright, I’ll see y’all, later.” You shot a dazzling smile towards the men as you turned, exiting the kitchen. John was able to stew in his slight mortification until the sound of the front door shutting echoed through the house. As the latch clicked John felt his friend's knowing gazes on him. Charles was the first to speak. “I’m not gonna lie to you, that was hard to watch. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?” The teasing lilt to his voice almost had John hiding his face in embarrassment. Javier clasped a hand on John’s shoulder, giving him what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, brother.” John let out a long groan, debating adding a bit of whiskey to his morning coffee. He was gonna need it if he had to put up with these two for the rest of the day. That night he came in the shower, fantasizing about fucking you dumb as you bent over in that pretty little dress for him. Then again later in his bed at the idea of your legs wrapped around his head, calling him sir as he ate you out until you cried. ~~~~~~ The storm that overtook the skies a few weeks later came out of nowhere. The dark and heavy purple clouds seemingly materialized out of the clear blue sky. Lightning and thunder breaking up the peaceful feeling of the ranch. John was in the house when the rain began to fall. The drops pounding against the roof creating an unrelenting din. He walked away from the window he was looking out to the phone in the hallway. He should probably call Charles and Javier. They’d taken the truck into town and were probably still at the mechanic seeing as the owner was an old friend. He dialed the number for the garage but was only met with static. One of the phone lines must have been knocked down in the storm. He’d have to check around the property whenever Charles and Javier returned with the truck, likely tomorrow at the earliest. John’s mind flashed to you, as it often did. He hoped you were back at your cabin, safe from the torrential rains. You’d been up at the ranch this morning but probably headed back with the boys earlier in the afternoon. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a frantic pounding, different from that of the raindrops. Someone was knocking on the door. He crossed the room, hand twisting the door open to reveal your drenched form. You were dripping wet. Your jeans were several shades darker than they had been earlier, your white t-shirt was essentially translucent. John tried to not stare at the black outline of your bra showing through the shirt or at the way the fabric clung to your skin, showing off your form perfectly. His gaze was brought back to your lips as you spoke. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, Sir. I-I was with the horses when the storm started and the thunder spooked some of them. I had to round them up.” He shook his head at your words. “Come on inside darlin’, you must be freezing.” You nodded, stepping in off the porch and onto the mat inside the doorway as he stepped back, making room for you, letting the door shut behind you. “Let me go grab you a towel.” He grabbed his favorite towel from the bathroom, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that was unhelpfully pointing out that the soft fabric would soon be running over your body. As John came back out into the hallway he took in your form once again. You looked miserable and cold, trembling slightly. He handed you the towel, ignoring the spike of heat he felt as your hands brushed his. “Do you have your truck?” His raspy voice was gentler than usual. You shook your head. “Wanted to enjoy the walk this morning,” you chuckled slightly. “Well, I think that means you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit. The phones are down, the boys are at the cabins, and Charles and Javier are in town with the truck. ‘N I’m not risking you walkin’ back in this weather.” You nodded again, a small smile gracing your features at his concern. John was still trying his best not to stare at your chest, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide the growing outline of his cock for much longer. “You’re welcome to the shower if ya’d like. And I’ll bring you a change of clothes too.” As you toed off your boots you let out a sweet “thank you”. John showed you to the bathroom, before running to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants. He placed them on the shelf in the bathroom before turning back to you. “The extra room is yours for tonight. If you need anythin’ just holler.” Your voice stopped him on the way out of the room. “Thank you, Sir. You’re very kind.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m just tryna help. ‘N you can jus call me John, sweetheart.” Your smile broadened a bit, “Well, thank you, John.” He nodded, barely finding the strength to close the door behind him. God, that was worse. His name falling from your lush lips. His mind grabbed onto the sound, playing with it, twisting it until he was imagining you calling it out from underneath him. As the latch clicked shut he leaned back onto the hallway walls, pressing the heel of his palm into his growing erection. “Get it together, Marston,” he muttered. He moved to the kitchen, trying to forget the shape of your body, the way the tops of your tits were visible through the wet fabric. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cupboards, pouring himself a generous amount. He quickly drank the amber liquid, hardly registering the burn in the back of his throat. He poured another glass, just taking a sip from it this time. He could hear the water from the showerhead, even in the kitchen, and was trying to not get distracted by the thought of your body in the shower. He wished he could walk in there, wrapping his arms around you as you rinsed the day off. He’d trail soft kisses over your neck as he lathered soap over your form. He could imagine the noises you’d make as he kneaded your shoulders, the little groans that would leave your perfect lips. He shook his head, he needed to distract himself. His eyes caught on the clock across the room, it was getting late, and the both of you would probably be hungry soon. He opened the fridge and glanced over the contents. The mostly empty shelves seemed to glare back at him. He dropped his head into his hands, frustrated at himself. You were in his home and he couldn’t even make you a proper meal. He was so distracted by his perceived downfall that he didn’t hear the shower turning off, nor the click of the bathroom door and the footsteps that followed. “Sir?” Your gentle voice pulled his eyes up. You were standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, his sweatpants hugging your hips. His gaze dragged up and down your body. You weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were hardened from the cold, the outline of them visible through the worn material. His voice was gruffer than usual as he forced it out around the lump in his throat, making his eyes meet yours. “I thought I told you to call me John, darlin’.” You nodded sweetly. “Alright, John.” His name sounded so sweet on your lips. He needed some sort of distraction. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter, raising it for you to look at. “D’ya want a glass?” “I’d very much like that, thank you.” “How was your shower,” His full focus was on pouring a glass for you and topping off his own. Looking at you was almost too much. “It was really nice. Your water pressure is amazing!” your exclamation had John stiffening in his jeans once again. The idea of you in the shower, groaning as the water hit your shoulders, running in rivulets down your chest. He put the bottle back on the counter a little harder than he meant to, turning around to hand you your glass. The amber liquid on his tongue was a necessity for this situation. “I’d uh, I’d offer ya dinner but ‘m not much of a cook.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck at the admission, his cheeks tinted red. He was a grown man and the majority of his meals came frozen or from a can. “I could make something for us,” your voice was kind, soothing almost. John shook his head almost immediately. “I’m not gonna make you do that darlin’. Don’t want you to have to take care of my ass.” “I really don’t mind it, John. Plus I’d like to eat at some point.” Your tone was lighthearted as you grinned at him. After a little more back and forth he conceded, allowing you to take over the kitchen. You shooed him out of the room, telling him it’d be ready soon. John settled in the living room, flipping on the tv to try and drown out the thoughts of you. He couldn’t seem to stop. The whiskey wasn’t doing much to help. He’d occasionally flip between channels, but nothing was quite able to grab his attention. The idea of you in his house, in his kitchen, in his clothes was so domestic. The idea of walking up behind you while you cooked, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, it was intoxicating to him. But he couldn’t lie and say his thoughts were completely innocent. Images of you in various compromising positions kept flashing through his mind, now accompanied by the sound of you whining his name. About half an hour later you emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti, setting them down on the dining room table. When John walked over to join you the smell hit him. It was heavenly. How you’d pulled together something like this out of the pathetic ingredients he had available was incredible. As the two of you ate dinner you made idle conversation. John had talked to you a few times since you came to the ranch but he could never seem to hold a conversation. Too overwhelmed by your presence when you were close to him. Now he didn’t have much of a choice. He learned a little bit more about your life before you came to work at Bighorn. When you’d both finished eating, John offered to clean the dishes. You didn’t argue, letting him gather the dirty plates. “It's still pretty early so if you want to put on a movie while I clean up, you're more than welcome to.” You agreed and he told you where to find the tape collection. As he washed the plates in the kitchen he scolded himself. You’re too old for her, Marston. Pretty young things like her aren't interested in broken men. You’re an old fool. Once the dishes were cleaned he took a moment to lean against the counter, holding his head in his hands. He had to get it together. As far as he should be concerned you're just his employee and he should treat you as such. Seeing as he’d finished his whiskey before you had brought out dinner, he grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. He called your name towards the living room, asking if you wanted one too. You shouted back a yes. He uncapped the two beers and walked back to the living room. You were curled up on the right side of the couch, your legs tucked up off the floor, a blanket from the chest near the window wrapped around you. You looked warm and comfortable. John pointedly ignored the pang of affection that shot through his chest as he handed you your beer. The couch was small but he still tried to give you space. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But even with his hip pressed against the arm of the couch, your legs still brushed against his thigh. He had to keep his breath steady as he could feel the warmth from your body. He recognized the movie you picked as Jurassic Park, one of Jack’s favorites. You were only at the part where the scientists were on their way to the island. “‘S a good choice,” he gestured at the tv. “The movie I mean.” “It’s one of my favorites!” God your smile was cute. He wanted to make you smile all the time. As the movie continued, the two of you sat in comfortable silence. However, John was very aware of your presence next to him. Of the press of your legs against his. In trying to ignore the heat in his stomach and the feeling of you right next to him, he was staring very hard at the tv. When Ellie jumped off the ride to go look at the stegosaurus, you shifted towards him, moving your legs to the other side of you, your torso almost pressing into his side. “I still can’t believe how real it looks! It's crazy!” The excitement in your voice made a smile form on John’s face. Subconsciously, he moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving you room to move in, to lean against him if you so desired. He didn’t even register he had done it until he felt your body press against his, tucking yourself under his arm. He couldn’t stop the small hitch in his breath at the realization that you were willingly cuddling up to him. He was sure you could probably hear his heartbeat from your new position. He tried to keep his eyes on the movie but it was hopeless, his gaze focused intently on you. When you raised your head to look at him he wasn’t quick enough. You’d caught him. He was caught off guard by your hand pressing into his chest as you pushed yourself up. You were still close to him, but you were now upright, your chest turned towards him. Your gaze was calculating as your tongue traced along your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but stare at the movement. The indecision seemed to leave your eyes as you noticed what he was staring at. You leaned towards him slightly. “John,” your voice was soft as he finally was able to drag his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes were dark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Kiss me.” His brain stopped. Or his heart stopped. He wasn’t sure. Maybe both. All he could manage was a small nod. His hand moved to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your lips to his. The kiss was passionate, a mess of tongues and lips, of gasping breaths. John ignored every part of his brain that was telling him to stop. That you were too young for him, that you were his employee, all of the reasons that he shouldn’t let this happen. The feeling of you drowned out everything else. When he nibbled on your bottom lip, you let out a small moan. The sound sent blood rushing to his cock. All he wanted to do was draw those noises out of you. To hear every little sound you’d make in the throes of pleasure. Your kisses were as greedy as his, seemingly trying to savor every second of your embrace. He was able to pull himself away for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands came to cradle your head in his large hands. “Darlin’,” his voice was rougher than usual. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want an ol’ man like me?” The glare you gave him was more chiding than actually frustrated. “First of all, you're not old. Second, I’ve wanted this since I started working here. Wanted you since that first day.” Your confession sent a shiver through John. “Really,” he couldn’t stop the slightly desperate tone that laced his voice. You nodded, smiling at him. “How could I not?” Your answer was simple but it sent a swirl of affection and mild pride through him. He moved a hand to your waist, you seemed to take it as an invitation to move onto his lap. Swinging your body so your legs rested on either side of his thighs. In this position, John allowed his hands to roam over your body. Tracing up your back, trailing down your sides, he let them come to rest on your ass, grabbing the flesh and pulling you against him slightly. The movement caused your hips to press against his hardness. You gasped loudly. His first reaction was worry that he’d done something wrong, but that thought left his mind when you rolled your hips against his again. He was painfully hard, his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He could feel the small wet spot forming in his underwear, his tip leaking precum. Each move of your hips felt like heaven. The feeling of you, in his lap, wearing his clothes, making those desperate little sounds as you ground yourself against him, was better than any of the fantasies he’d had. He was meeting your movements, thrusting up. The feeling was overwhelming, and when you attached your lips to his neck he keened. He let his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, just trailing them along the soft skin of your hips at first. When you didn’t make any move to stop him, he began to trace higher and higher. Fingertips brushing over your sides, your ribs, and then your tits. God, they were so soft. He let his hands pinch your nipples experimentally. You had to move your mouth from his neck when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Do that again,” your voice was tantalizingly desperate. “Please, John.” He complied, unable to deny you anything you asked for. His fingers twisted and pulled at your sensitive buds, rewarding him with your gasps and breathy moans. He pushed you back slightly in his lap, moving you so you were sat upright. He looked up at you as he brought his face to your chest, wrapping his lips around one nipple while continuing his ministrations on the other. The look on your face was the prettiest thing John had ever seen. Your lips were parted, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on. You’d paused your hips when he moved you, allowing his pleasure to subside. When your eyes opened, your pupils were blown wide and lust practically dripping from your gaze, he couldn’t help himself from thrusting his hips to yours. His hands moved back to your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolled his hips again, the pressure from your body providing him the slightest bit of relief. He’d been able to calm himself for a little bit, but with his hips humping against you and the look in your eyes, he was driving himself toward the edge again. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about the needy moans leaving his mouth. It was almost without warning that he felt the pleasure in him swell as his balls drew up. The stimulation of your warm body rubbing against him sending him over the edge. His cock pulsed in his jeans, releasing spurt after spurt of hot cum. He came with a harsh gasp followed by an embarrassing whine of your name, his hands clutching you tightly as he kept humping you, drawing out the sensations. When his high began to subside he was overtaken with embarrassment. He’d finally gotten a chance with you and he’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenager. Your voice was small. “Um…John. Did you…did you just cum.” All he could do was nod as he buried his head in your shoulder, unable to fully look at you. Your hands buried into his hair, holding him sweetly. “It’s okay, John. It happens.” He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He’d ruined his chance. “I-I’m so sorry.” he managed to get out. You let out a soft coo as your hands moved to cradle his face. “You’ve got nothing’ to be sorry for. I promise.” He tilted his head up, his gaze meeting yours. There was nothing in your eyes to indicate disgust or displeasure, just kindness. He nodded dumbly as he took you in. “Wanted this to be good for you, sweetheart. Been thinking of this for ages and I fucked it up.” You shook your head. “What makes you think you won’t be able to make it up to me?” your smile was teasing as you tilted his chin upwards. Hope sparked in his chest at your words. “Like right now?” desperation leaked into his voice. You nodded sweetly. “If that’s okay with you.” John couldn’t stop his overenthusiastic nod. “Well in that case I think I owe you somethin’” He shifted you off his lap, allowing you to stand. “My bedrooms, the door on your right, down that hallway there. I'll be there in just a moment.” As he stood you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing your lips to his once again. You then leaned in, allowing your lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You better, or I’ll be left with no choice but to take care of myself,” you pushed away from him, a sly grin on your face as you shot him a wink and started in the direction of his room. John watched you leave, letting his eyes drag over your form, his thoughts notably absent of the guilt that would plague him whenever he’d looked at you before. When you were out of sight, he went into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up. As he walked towards his room he felt what could only be described as butterflies in his stomach. You were far too good for him, in every single way, but you were here, you wanted to be with him, to have him touch you. He couldn’t help the dopey smile that broke out across his face. He pushed open the bedroom door to find you standing in the middle of the room, seemingly taking in your surroundings. At the sound of his footsteps, you turned to face him. “You ready to make it up to me, Mr. Marston?” Your teasing voice was cut off as he closed the space between the two of you and pulled your body into his. His lips crashed into yours, his hand coming to rest on your jaw. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, almost asking permission, which you granted. You tasted like the whiskey from earlier. He began to walk you backward, your steps hesitant until the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed and you fell onto your back. You looked so beautiful below him. You scooted yourself toward the headboard as he dropped his knees onto the mattress. He moved up until he was settled between your legs, his body pressed to the bed as his hands came to rest on your thighs. “I wanna taste you darlin’,” his fingers brushed against the exposed bit of skin that was visible between your shirt and the band of your sweatpants. “Would that be alright with you?” When he lifted his eyes to meet yours, your pupils had swallowed your irises. Your gaze was heavy with lust, your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you nodded. “Please, John. Need you.” His hands hooked over the band of your sweatpants, pulling them down over the tops of your thighs. He couldn’t look away as more and more of you was revealed. As soon as the sweatpants had slipped off your feet, his mouth met your inner thigh. His hands moved to the insides of your knees, gently pushing you apart for him. He traded between kisses and gentle nips as his mouth trailed over the sensitive skin. “Take off your shirt for me sweetheart.” his voice was low, filled with desire. You quickly obeyed, tossing the fabric to the floor and settling back against the bed. John couldn’t believe that he was here, between your thighs. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about this, in this same bed as he fucked his hand. And now it was happening, it was real. He felt his cock jump slightly, blood beginning to return to it. You were whimpering under him, clearly frustrated at the lack of attention being paid to your dripping cunt. He could see the small wet patch forming on the cotton that covered you and his mouth watered. He couldn’t resist dragging a finger over your clothed slit as his mouth continued along your thigh. You let out a high-pitched moan when his finger ghosted over your clit. God, he wanted to draw more of those noises from your sweet lips. “Don’t be impatient now, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” His voice was even raspier than usual, dripping with lust. You thrust your hips slightly at his words, trying to get more from him. He pressed your hips back to the bed with one hand, holding you still, tutting his tongue at you. He dragged his mouth higher, his lips pressing against the cotton of your panties. He smirked slightly before grabbing the hem of them between his teeth and dragging them down your hips. When you were rid of them, he couldn’t help but take you in. “John,” your voice was sweet with want. With need. His hands moved back to your inner knees, pushing your legs apart for him. Your cunt glistened with slick, the insides of your thighs shining with it as well. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He was laying between your legs again, his face only inches from your heat. This was better than anything he’d imagined. You were a dream and he wanted to show you how much he wanted this, wanted you. You let out the most intoxicating noise when he licked a broad stripe over your entrance, his nose bumping your clit. Your hands, which had been gripping the sheets at your sides, moved to his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark locks. You were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted to drink you in, the taste of you like heaven on his tongue. He wanted to drag it out. To tease you with soft licks, turn you into a begging mess. But that would take patience and John Marston was not a patient man. He buried his face in your pussy. His tongue laving over you as his nose rubbed against your clit. If he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man. His hands dug into your hips as he dragged you closer to his mouth. He was trying to memorize everything that made you moan, made you tug on his hair, or try to grind your hips against his mouth. The moan you let out when he wrapped his lips around your clit was absolutely sinful. “Johnnn,” your breath was labored, making it hard to form full sentences. “P-please,” you begged. “Please what, darlin’? What d’ya need?” His voice was teasing as his gaze met your lust-darkened eyes. “Please finger me, please. I need it, please, please, John.” He would’ve liked to tease you more but he was quickly realizing that he couldn’t resist doing anything you asked of him. “How could I say no when you sound so sweet beggin’ for me.” He brought his mouth back to your clit as one of his fingers traced lightly over your slit. You were so goddamn wet, the mix of your slick and his spit shining in the low light of the room. You shivered when he pushed a finger in, just to the first knuckle. He felt you clench at the invasion, making him let out a soft groan. He pushed his finger fully inside you, crooking it up to press against your walls. You let out a loud whiny moan at the sensation. He continued slowly dragging his digit in and out, brushing against your g-spot each time. He wanted to draw this out, show you how good he could make you feel. His mouth continued the assault on your clit, as he finally gave in and added another finger, much to your delight. Your hips rocked against his hand with each thrust, your back arching when he would slowly brush over that sensitive spot. He could feel you getting wetter, your breaths becoming shorter, the words leaving your lips barely discernible. “J-John, I-I’m gonna cum,” he could barely hear you as you wrapped your thighs around his head, your hand yanking on his hair, pulling him closer to you, trying to reach your peak. He sped up slightly, not enough to disrupt your pleasure, but just enough to have you gasping loudly. John felt you clench around his fingers, once, twice, and then you came. Looking back on it, he wished he could’ve seen your face, but he was so lost in lapping up the rush of slick from you. He could do this for hours, knelt between your legs, eating you out until you were exhausted or until he had his fill, whichever came first. He only pulled off of you when you tugged his hair trying to push him off as your thighs fell back to the mattress. He looked up at you, taking in your disheveled face. Your lips were slightly swollen from your teeth biting into them, your eyes were dark, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breath. “Sorry darlin’, ya just taste so good. Couldn’t help myself.” He was grinning like an idiot. You returned his smile as you muttered, “you’re damn good at that.” “That mean I make it up to ya?” You nodded, “Doesn’t mean we’re done here though.” John’s cock jumped at that. Eating you out had turned him on more than he’d care to admit, his cock had become hard and heavy, pressed against the mattress. “Thank god for that,” his raspy voice was only slightly teasing. A small smile broke out across your face as you shook your head at him, your hands pulling him up to you. He knew you could taste yourself on his tongue, the thought driving him slightly crazy. He’d propped himself up, his arms on either side of you, keeping mind to not let his whole weight rest on you. You pulled back, the look in your eye intrigued him. You looked like you had a plan. Before he could register what was happening, you’d flipped him over, sitting on top of him, your body on display. You leaned forward slightly, your finger trailing along the buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re wearing far too much clothing.” John could only bring himself to nod, as he took in your form. He was in awe. Your fingers began to work on his buttons, undoing them one by one. As more of his chest was revealed you brought your mouth to gently kiss across his skin. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, his heart pounding as you showed him a gentleness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your touches were light and adoring. As more of him was revealed to you, compliments and sweet words spilled from your lips. Your lips trailed across the scars that littered his chest, murmuring, “you’re so beautiful, John.” He felt like he was being worshiped. Like you were treating him like something to be treasured. When your fingers undid the last button of his shirt, you helped him slip it off of his shoulders, tossing the fabric to the floor to join the other discarded garments. Your hands traced along his chest, running through the smattering of hair across his pecs. Your hands drifted down further, your fingers dragging lightly through the dark hair of his happy trail. They came to rest on the waistband of his jeans, tucking underneath the fabric slightly, your nails teasing the sensitive skin. Your eyes were dark as you looked up at him, asking for permission. He nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. You made quick work of the button and zipper, your fingers once again hooking over the sides as you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock sprang up from the fabric, leaking and red, the head practically dripping precum. John knew his dick wasn’t something to scoff at but he still felt self-conscious. That was until he raised his eyes to your face. “Oh, John,” your words were soft, you seemed transfixed, your hand coming up to wrap around him, your fingers only barely able to touch around his girth. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him at the pressure. Your hands were light, tracing along the vein that ran up his length, ghosting over the head, your thumb swept at the slit, catching a drop of precum. He was captivated as you brought your thumb to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste it. He couldn’t take this slow teasing, he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside of you. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you before flipping the two of you once again. God, you were so beautiful. His naked body pressing against yours. His hand reached up to trace your jaw, fingers coming to a rest on your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Are you sure you want this?” As much as he dreamt of you, as much as he wanted this, he needed to know you felt the same. That this wasn’t something one-sided. Your hands reached around him, settling on the back of his neck, the smile you gave him was sweet, the lust in your eyes seeming to give way to something softer, something he’d dare call adoring. “John, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been the one pursuing you all night. I know what I want. I know I want you.” He couldn’t formulate a response aside from bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet at first but quickly sank back into something laced with sinful intents. He only pulled back to reach into the drawer of his nightstand, his hands tracing over the contents, searching for a condom. “John,” your voice was smaller than it had been a minute ago. “I-I’m clean. Got tested a bit ago. I, uh, I’m also on the pill.” His gaze was unable to leave your face as he tried to make sense of the words. His brain short-circuiting. When he didn’t respond, you continued, “S-so, I mean if you’re clean, we- I’m okay if we don’t use one.” He nodded, slowly at first, then with barely contained enthusiasm. “God, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered as his lips met yours once again. The kiss was chaste, cut short by both of your eagerness. John moved back, kneeling between your legs, one hand languidly stroking his cock as he looked down at you. He used his other hand to help scoot you forward, tipping your hips up slightly as your legs wrapped around his waist. He ran his tip over your entrance, tapping it against your clit. A shudder ran through your body as you let out a frustrated groan. He did it again, relishing in the way you squirmed as he refused to give you what you so desperately needed. “John,” your voice was clipped, stern. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to leave and go finished myself off…alone.” He got the message, letting his tip stop at your dripping entrance before pushing in slowly. The heat and the tightness that met him was almost overwhelming. He had to stop himself from pushing in all the way in one go. He tried to go slowly, an inch at a time, but the way you were wrapped around his length was too much. Before he could stop himself, his hips thrust forward, entering you to the hilt, his balls pressed against your ass. He managed to let out a strangled, “sorry,” as he rested inside you, unmoving. You had gasped at the sudden movement, but now with him still, pressing incessantly into your g-spot, you were beginning to gyrate your hips, encouraging him to begin to move. His hands had come to rest beside your head, holding his body over yours as he slowly brought his hips back before thrusting into you. You moaned loudly as his body met yours. The pace he started was slow, purposeful. One of his hands moved to cup your jaw, bringing your lips to meet his in an almost loving kiss. He was holding back, not wanting to speed up for fear of hurting you. You seemed to not care as you pulled your lips back from him. Your gaze met his, it was hard and determined. “I’m not a doll, John. I'm not gonna break.” You brought your lips to his ear, the brush of them sending shivers down his spine as you whispered, “been waiting for this for months. Fuck me like you mean it.” You barely had time to draw back before he began to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. The moans leaving your mouth were heavenly, intoxicating. He wanted more. He moved his lips to your throat, biting and sucking the delicate skin. The whine you let out when he nipped you particularly hard had him grinning against your neck. He brought a hand up to your tits, tweaking your nipples like he did earlier on the couch, teasing you. He felt you grip down on him whenever he pulled or pinched especially hard. He was panting, both from the physical excretion as well as the overwhelming pleasure. He could hear how wet you were with each thrust, the noises your body made driving him to thrust a little harder. “You were fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart,” he growled out between breaths. As heat coiled in his stomach, he kept remembering what you had said. How you wanted him to cum inside of you, how you’d wanted him for months. He needed to see it when it happened. Needed to see what you’d look like stuffed full of his cum. His thrusts slowed as he shifted off your neck, his hand leaving your chest as he sat up. He removed your legs from his waist and instead lifted them until they rested on his shoulders. When he leaned back down again, his hands came to rest on either side of your head, essentially folding you in half. He gave a hard thrust into you. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each stroke. Even though you felt tight before, now every move he made had you squeezing him. He knew he couldn’t possibly last much longer but he had to make you cum before he did. Had to give you a reason to do this again. You were letting out a steady stream of curses each time he pounded into you. Your hands gripping the sheets, bunching them tightly in your fists. Your eyes were black with lust and your mouth hung open, sweat shone on your forehead and chest. You looked like a fucking angel. John couldn’t help the praise that dripped from his lips. “You’re such a good girl for me, ain’tcha. Taking me so fuckin’ well.” He moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. “Wanted you since I first saw ya. Wanted to take ya right on the porch.” “John,” you let out a breathy whine. He kept going, “that day you came over in that stupid sundress. Looked so sweet in it. All dolled up. Wanted to bend you over. Wanted to fuck you until you were screaming my name.” He gave a particularly hard thrust, emphasizing his words. “W-wore it for you,” you managed to get out around harsh moans. He could barely think through the fog of pleasure that permeated his brain. “That’s my girl,” he grunted. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his chest flushed red, sweat beading on his skin. He was so fucking close, for the second time that night. You’d made a mess of him. “Fuck,” your body seemed to be almost shaking with pleasure. “J-John, I’m gonna cum. P-please don’t stop, feels so good.” He kept his pace and seconds later you were clamping down on him like a vice. Your body shook with the waves of pleasure that washed over you. The sensation of you squeezing around him sent him right to the brink of his orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, his balls drawing up, his pants becoming harsher. “C-cum inside me, John. please,” your worn voice all but begged as your eyes met his. Those words were the final push that threw him over the edge. He thrust once, twice, three more times before spilling inside you. His vision was overtaken by white. He rocked into you as the waves overtook him. He could feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips, in his toes. When he seemingly came back into himself, the sight that greeted him was heavenly. You were spread below him, chest still heaving, bottom lip swollen from kisses and bites. Your hands which had been gripping the sheets now ran up and down his sides, helping bring him back down from the mind-blowing orgasm. He lowered your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a soft grunt. He couldn’t help but watch as his seed leaked from your hole. His fingers moved without thought to stuff his spend back inside you. He only stopped when you let out a slightly pained moan, igniting a feeling of worry in his chest. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” You smiled and chuckled weakly, “s’okay, just sensitive right now.” He wanted to press a gentle kiss to your temple but couldn’t muster up the courage. He stood up from the bed with a small groan. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, gonna clean up.” He stumbled off towards the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping himself down before tossing it into the hamper. He grabbed another cloth, making sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold before he wrung it out and returned to the bedroom. You were in the same position as you’d been when he left, but now your legs were closed. He knelt before you on the bed. “You okay with me cleanin’ you up?” you nodded sweetly, your eyes closing as he gently swiped the rag over you. When he was done, he tossed the rag to the side, letting it join the pile of clothes already on the floor. He didn’t want your time together to end, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either and the doubts were beginning to creep in on the edge of his mind. “You, uh, you don’t have to sleep here, with me, if you don’t want,” he started, staring at his hands. “The other room’s still free if you'd like.” When he brought his gaze to yours he was met with something he could only describe as affection. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s alright with you,” your voice was kind as you smiled at him. “Now come to bed, I’m getting cold here all alone.” He couldn’t contain the grin that broke out on his face. He laid down on his back, his arm outstretched, inviting you in. You curled right into his side, your head coming to rest on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you in return, holding you close. Despite just being inside you, the gentle cuddling had him blushing harder than he had all night. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, under a sky of dark clouds, and the steady pounding of rain on the roof, you were his and he was yours. And that was good enough.

I know this was super long for a one-shot smut fic but if you made it all the way through, I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing smut from a man's perspective so I'm sorry if anything was weird. I just love John Marston very much <3 Comments/criticisms are always welcome! Crossposted on AO3 @holyratrimony <3333

Taglist: @cowboydisaster

This fic was inspired by this post by @butchdutch

#john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #modern au #rdr2

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