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roseghoul26 · 2 months

Text

Part 4

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

Author’s Note: this part is the smut part, with some story too. i struggled with this chapter cause i’ve only written smut like twice so here we go lmao.

next fic i’m thinking of doing javier or charles (loml), and i have different ideas for both. and i’ll def. write for arthur again, and feel free to send requests or ideas (or literally send whatever i love getting messages)

Taglist: @photo1030

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

And it was a long ride, done in silence as the two of you made it to the meetup place. The cowboy occasionally looked over his shoulder at you, but other than that there was little interaction. There was tension between the two of you that was on the cusp of snapping into a million pieces, but there was nothing you could do about it right now. Mustering what patience you had, and also pushing down your desires, you made your way to Emerald Ranch.

Lenny arrived a short while after you and Arthur, sweaty and anxious, but thankfully alive. And he wasn’t followed, so you thanked the universe that luck was on your side that day.

After meeting up, you’d sold the stolen goods to the fence, and with the combined cash you’d pick up, the three of you had a nice haul of about 750 dollars. After everyone received their cut, there was almost 400 dollars left to donate to camp, which you stuck in the box with a proud smile. Not bad for your first job back, you thought.

Dutch seemed to think so too, complimenting you as you wrote in the ledger. “How we managed to survive those weeks without you, I’ll never know. Thank you, dear.”

You just shrugged. “Don’t mention it. And you can thank Arthur for keepin’ us afloat.”

Dutch didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he lit a match for his cigar, moving so his back was facing his tent as he smoked. Now facing you, you saw him in your peripherals observing you as you finished writing, letting the ink dry before closing the book. Not appreciating his staring, you questioned him with a look.

“Take Arthur to Saint Denis to… look for leads. Yeah, go look for leads.”

“Huh? Right now?”

“That’s what I said, right? I’ve heard that the hotels ‘round there are brimming with opportunities. And take as much time as you need, if you catch my meanin’.” He gave you a wink, but you continued to stare at him like he grew a second head. “You’re smart, dear. You’ll figure it out. Now go, before I change my mind.” He dismissed you with a wave, staring out at the open water as you left.

“Oh… o-okay?” You were halfway to your tent when it dawned on you: Dutch was giving you permission to leave camp for a bit, which was convenient, to say the least. You turned to thank him, but he seemed lost in thought, so you saved it for later. “Make sure Lenny gets sent out too,” you still shouted out, hoping that Dutch heard you.

Entering your tent, you found Arthur already there, which was no surprise. He had practically beelined there after you all arrived at camp, barely giving you a passing look. You hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but when you saw him hunched over as he sat on the edge of the bed, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the cot, you immediately became concerned. Racing through your thoughts, you tried to remember if it seemed like he was in pain earlier. It wouldn’t be unlike him to get injured and then hide it.

Rushing to his side, you were on your knees as you looked at him, scanning his body for any blood or obvious injury. When you found nothing, you looked into his eyes which you found closed. “Love? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” you asked, brushing back some of the hair that had fallen in his face, his hat discarded somewhere nearby. His cheeks were rosy too, you noticed.

When he opened his eyes, you were startled to find how dark they were, and he stared through you. “Shit, did you hit your head?” You moved to stand and examine his head further, but a gentle hand on your shoulder had you sinking back down to your knees.

“I’m alright,” his voice was strained. Arthur didn’t provide any more details, and you heard him let out a huff of air when your hands rested on his knees, your face only a few inches away from them as you peered up at him.

“Then what’s goin’ on, Arthur? You’re scaring me.” He placed one of his hands atop yours, fingers shaking slightly from the strain of gripping the cot. It tickled when he started dancing his fingers across the skin, but you kept your face still as you watched him.

“Oh, princess. You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” His voice was breathy, barely audible to you as his hand stilled. Finally, his eyes focused on yours, growing impossibly wider when he realized the position you were in. “Here,” he extended a palm up, offering you to put your hand in his. When you did, he kissed the back of it gently, before bringing it right above his heart and pressing it to his chest. Even through his shirt, which you had just noticed he had a few more top buttons unbuttoned, you could feel his heartbeat, which was beating like the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

Suddenly things started making a whole lot more sense with the dilated pupils, heavy breathing, and his sporadic heartbeat. Immediately your concern was replaced with something less selfless, a hungry need growing in you as you took in Arthur being in such a state, and all because of you.

“Since last night, I can’t stop thinkin’... and ever since the house it’s gotten worse. I can barely look at you without remembering the way you felt… and you’ve got me so damn turned on I can’t function.” His voice turned into a growl at the end, and you felt yourself pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the growing tension building between them from his confession. God, everything felt warm.

Arthur didn’t miss the movement, as subtle as you tried to be. With a knowing grin, he pressed one last kiss to your hand before setting it back on his knee. “It took everythin’ in me to not take you right there in that house,” he said it so casually that you almost didn’t register what he said. Your grip on his legs tightened, and you found yourself sitting up straighter on your knees, now at chest level with him.

“I would’ve let you,” you confessed, and Arthur moved closer to you, almost touching his lips with yours. Slowly, just like Arthur had done to you, you brought your hands up his thighs. You felt them tense under your touch, and you heard Arthur let out a little noise as your hands traveled up.

And up.

And up until they rested at his belt, and you toyed with the loopholes as he started down at you. You could feel his breathing grow rapid, huffs of warm breath against your face. As you halted, you heard him groan. “You want me to touch you?” It was a redundant question, but you asked anyway.

Arthur swallowed. “Yes.” He tried to press his lips against yours, but you kept your head far enough away. The hands on hips helped him stay put, and you relished in the fact that he could easily break free from your “hold”, but he didn’t.

“Then tell me. Tell me what you’ve been thinking of.”

You saw his blush extend past his face and down his chest. “That… it ain’t proper.”

You chuckled at that. “Since when do we care about what’s proper, Arthur?”

“I suppose we don’t,” he agreed, and he relaxed some. A few moments passed, then he was resting his head against yours. “You want me to tell you, or show you, princess?”

“Why not both?”

“Can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” You pestered, a teasing grin on your face.

“I can’t, cause there ain’t gonna be much talkin’ when my head’s between your thighs.”

Whatever rebuttal you had died instantly in your throat. “Oh,” was all you were able to get out, your mouth growing suddenly dry at Arthur’s boldness, and that tension growing was starting to become unbearable.

“Oh?” He mocked, laughing when you softly slapped him on his leg.

“Shuddup,” you rolled your eyes. Placing your hands back on his thighs, you felt the thick muscles there, built from years of a hard life and survival. “Tell me more,” you asked, moving your fingers closer and closer to the zipper of his jeans, looking down at your task at hand. Your face flushed when you saw the very noticeable bulge between his legs.

“You never answered my question,” you felt rough, calloused fingers under your chin, which gently brought your gaze back up to Arthur’s.

“Show me, Arthur.”

He nodded, a light smile on his lips. “Alright, princess. We’re gonna have to be quiet though.”

The whole reason why you came into the tent came back to you. “Well, maybe we don’t have to be. And I did say I was gettin’ you out of camp, and, well, Dutch has told me to bring you to Saint Denis to ‘search for leads’,” you said, hoping that Arthur got the hidden meaning quicker than you did.

“Did he now?” You nodded. “Well, why didn’t you say so sooner. Don’t wanna waste any time now, do we?”

“In my defense, I thought you were in pain when I walked in. You jerk,” you bopped him again. Arthur just shook his head at you.

Standing up, you supported your shaky legs by holding onto his shoulders. Despite being fully upright, you still held on, not really wanting to stop feeling him. You now stood above him, able to look down at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Bringing your face lower, you kiss the space between his brows, then moving down the arch of nose and planting one on the tip. Then kissing the apples of each cheek in quick succession, you hovered just above his own, and you cupped his face in your hands. Your thumbs rubbed the stubble of his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel between your thighs. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered, but you hoped that soon your questions would be answered.

At last, your lips finally made contact with his. If there was one thing you would never tire of, it would be kissing Arthur. His lips were surprisingly soft, plush yet firm. Even though you had kissed him many times before, each time felt like the first, the overwhelming feeling of him taking over every sense, every nerve in your body buzzing with energy. Eagerly Arthur reciprocated, lips moving against you like they were created to fit with yours perfectly. Before you allowed the two of you to get swept away, kissing his forehead before stepping away.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you grabbed his hat, affixing it atop your head with a wink as Arthur scoffed. “Let’s go to Saint Denis. I’ve heard the hotels there are… lucrative.”

Arthur stood now, rebuttoning up his shirt and attempting to make himself more put together. “I’m sure they are, princess.” He gestured you out of the tent, and the midday air did little to cool you off.

Walking toward your horses, you saw Dutch talking with Lenny, before the older man patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Because Lenny was facing you, you gave him a questioning thumbs up, and he nodded in return. “Have a good night then, Lenny,” you called out.

“You too, miss.” You saw his eyes flick behind you. “Both of you,” he added, before walking to a nearby campfire and plopping down, laughing lightly to himself. Reaching your mount, you patted TT on his neck, and then offered him a sugarcube from the saddle bag. He gladly ate the treat, snorting when he finished.

You went to mount TT, but Arthur calling your name had you halting, only one foot in the stirrup as you turned over your shoulder to look at him. He stood beside his horse, holding the reins in his hands. “Ride with me?” he asked, smiling brightly when you made your way over to him.

When you got close enough, after giving you a quick peck on the cheek he placed his hands on your hips. Easily lifting you on the rump of his horse, you immediately wrapped your arms around him when he mounted. Scooting forward as best you could while sitting sidesaddle, your chest pressed against his back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. His hat was kind of in the way, but you didn’t dare take it off.

After ensuring that you were secure, he began moving, the camp quickly leaving both your visions shortly. He kept his horse at a fast pace, which was nowhere near as fast as you were going earlier, but you didn’t mind. You sighed in contentment, finally able to be alone with Arthur and place any worries about camp behind you, at least for a couple days. No petty squabbles, no jobs, no Pinkertons. Just you and Arthur.

Arthur seemed to feel similarly, based on the way he relaxed in your grasp, leaning back slightly against you. Letting go of the reins in one hand, he rubbed your leg affectionately. His chest tumbled beneath your hands, and you realized he was talking, but you could barely hear him.

When you asked him to repeat himself, Arthur turned his head to the side, making it easier to hear him, but it made you have to lift your own off his shoulder. “I said ‘thank you’.”

“Okay? You’re welcome?” you responded with uncertainty.

“For gettin’ me out of camp like this, and despite how much I wanted to fight it, you knew I needed it.”

“I mean, I wasn’t the one who got you out. You can thank Dutch for that.”

Arthur shook his head. “Sure, only after you presumably said somethin’ to him. And you’ve been the one trying to get me out all day! Don’t downplay yourself like that.” Arthur paused for a moment before continuing. “And you’ve always stuck your neck out for me like that, even before,” he gestured to your arms wrapped around him, “this. You’ve always seen me as more than the camp workhorse, more than a means to an end… more than myself… and I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is I appreciate it. For carin’ about me.” Arthur sighed. “I don’t really know what I’m saying…” he trailed off, refacing forward.

The sincerity in his voice had you heart breaking, but you also felt angry. Not at Arthur, but at the others, for using Arthur until he wore thin. Angry at the world that told him he wasn’t worthy enough to be loved, to be cared for. And you were angry at yourself, for holding off on telling him how much he mattered and meant to you.

Grateful that he had his back to you so that he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes, you clung on tighter to him. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you prayed that Arthur didn’t hear it. “You don’t gotta thank me for that. You deserve more, so much more, but I’ll give you all I have. I love you, Arthur Morgan, and I mean it. I’ll never stop sayin’ it until the day I die.”

Something wet hit your hand, and you realized Arthur was crying. Not sobbing, or making any audible noise; his shoulders didn’t shake either. But a few tears had left his eyes, one of them hitting you as they fell. “Arthur?” You asked, concerned.

Arthur, who clearly wasn’t expecting you to see his tears, quickly wiped them away, his hand no longer resting on your leg. “I… shit. Sorry.” You could tell he was embarrassed, trying to gloss over his emotions.

“I didn’t mean-”

“You ain’t done anything wrong,” Arthur reassured. “It’s just… I never thought I’d feel this way again, not after… not after Mary. I thought this part of me died a long time ago, and I just accepted that. I thought I’d never be loved again.” He chuckled humorlessly. “A part of me can’t believe this all ain’t a dream. I’ve wanted it so long that it seemed unobtainable.”

You knew about Mary, from the bits and pieces you learned from Hosea and Dutch. Arthur had never spoken about her with you, and you never asked, not wanting to push that boundary. Shamefully, you expected to feel some tinge of jealousy at the mention of his ex-lover, but you didn’t. You felt angry at her, for the way she broke his heart, and made him believe that he was unlovable. And strangely enough, you felt the tiniest bit of gratitude, but you weren’t quite sure who it was towards. All you could say is that you were thankful that you were now entrusted with Arthur’s heart, and you were going to cherish it.

“Well,” you returned your head on his shoulder, “you’re very much awake, and I hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me now.”

“Thank God,” he responded. You couldn’t tell which part he was thankful for.

Glancing around, you saw the outskirts of the town or Rhodes behind you, and the fence marking off the Gray’s property ahead of you, meaning you and Arthur were well on your way to Saint Denis. Another ten or so minutes of riding would get you there. Arthur had returned his grip on your thigh, and you settled in for the remainder of the ride.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You weren’t a fan of Saint Denis, with the polluted air and dirty streets, and the equally filthy people. Although it was deemed to be the pinnacle of modern civilization, you had to disagree. What “great” city like this would leave parts of their population unhoused, unfed, uncared for. Or elect snakes in positions of power instead of people, whose only interest in mind was their own. Or how the joy of living seemed to be sucked out of the people, and how they’re now only soulless husks whose only purpose was to work and sleep.

You voiced your thoughts to Arthur as you rode in, the metal archway proudly reading Saint Denis disappearing behind you. Passing by a group of well dressed individuals, Arthur nodded in agreement.

“And to think, they wanna make everywhere like this.”

Arthur didn’t respond, just continuing to lead his horse though the streets. The sounds on hooves on the cobblestone was quite loud, but it was still barely audible over the sound of machinery and engines. People stared at you two as you passed, and their eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary. It occurred to you that you probably looked quite out of place because of the way you were dressed.

You wore skirts and dresses from time to time, and you liked wearing them, but they weren’t the practical option for days like today, where you’d need to quickly get on and off your horse, and would have to move quickly and silently. But every scrutinizing glance from well-dressed strangers had you regretting your choice of apparel. You told yourself that you shouldn’t care what these people thought of you, but the innate human desire to fit in and be accepted was overwhelming, especially now.

“You’d think I’d grown a third arm, the way people are lookin’ at me,” you joked.

“Don’t let ‘em get to you,” Arthur sent a deadly glare to one said person, whose face turned ghostly white as he scampered away.

Chuckling, you kissed Arthur on his cheek. “My knight in shining armor,” you swooned, earning an eye roll from the cowboy.

“Not like you need one.”

“Maybe not. But if my knight was you, I wouldn’t say no.”

He chuckled lightly. “What’s so funny?” you questioned, laughing slightly yourself.

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all, princess.”

Turning the corner, you were met with with a rather crowded street with buildings towering over you. But directly ahead of you stood your destination, a large hotel that spanned three floors and the name of the establishment sprawled across the front in a language you didn’t recognize.

As Arthur made his way to one of the many hitching posts in front, you felt your heartbeat begin to accelerate as you remembered why you were here. Anticipation had your body on edge, almost tense in the way you held on to him.

You were always impressed at the way Arthur seemed to notice every small detail, but right now you found yourself cursing that ability. He took note of the way your body went rigid, and he reassuringly squeezed your thigh. “You good?” You knew that he wasn’t just talking about right now; he was asking if you were still comfortable continuing what had started last night.

“Yeah,” your voice was breathier than you would’ve liked. “I’m just… excited.” Sure, you were nervous as well, but it was easily alleviated by the trust you had in the man.

“Good,” he smiled. Bringing his horse to the post, he quickly dismounted, securing his mount with a loose knot. Next, his hands met your waist as he helped you off. Your legs were slightly numb from the way you were sitting, but you stayed steady as your feet made contact with the ground.

After double checking that his horse was secure, and had plenty of food and water nearby, he held out his hand, pulling you along when you took it. He held the door open for you, and the joke you were about to make fell short as you took in the interior of the hotel.

Large, swooping archways cascaded above your head, the large vaulted ceilings filled with paintings and statues that observed you as you walked in, your hand still linked with his. It reminded you of something you'd heard about a while back, some chapel in Italy with painted ceilings like this. The walls were stark white, and no less decorated, paintings with golden frames facing you, and the marble floor beneath you clacked as your boots made contact. An ornate chandelier lit the room, located directly in the center of the entrance area. Its jewels glinted in the light, reflecting tiny rainbows across the walls.

It was breathtaking, to say the least. Eyes wide, you let yourself be pulled by Arthur as you took it all in. “Maybe it ain’t so bad they’re tryin’ to make cities like this, if this is what it turns into.” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s beautiful.”

Arthur seemed less impressed than you, eyes barely glancing over the various art pieces adorning the walls and ceiling. “Don’t go changin’ your mind now. This,” he waved his free hand around, “is how they get ya. This is all just a front.”

“You’re no fun,” you chidded, and your vision was suddenly obscured as Arthur flicked the hat down on your head. A very improper squawk left you as you quickly fixed the hat, glaring up at him with no real heat.

“I’m plenty fun, princess.” By this point, you’d reached the front desk, where a very impatient looking man stood. As Arthur ordered a room, you continued to peer around, not paying much mind to the conversation. We weren’t only distracted by the art now, but your mind began to wander to the events that were sure to transpire shortly. You shamelessly ogled his body, now realizing he left his usual jacket back at camp, only down to his undershirt now. His well built shoulders caused the fabric to be pulled taught against his body, leaving little to the imagination. How would they feel under your touch? Would you grip on to them tight as he took you, letting you leave scratches down his back? Would they spread your legs apart as he-

Your thoughts were broken when you felt a tug at your arm, and you glanced at Arthur who regarded you with an amused glance. Based on the way he was grinning at you, you knew he knew where your mind had gone. “Bath?” He asked, and your mouth felt dry as you tried to respond.

“After.” The clerk couldn’t have done a worse job hiding his disdain, but you ignored him. Arthur took the room key from him, not even thanking him before heading up the staircase behind the front desk.

It felt like forever, the walk to the room. You’ve had your share of encounters in the bedroom, but it had never felt like this. It never felt this right.

It seemed like hours went by before Arthur was unlocking one of the rooms, letting go of your hand for the first time to get it open. Like the gentleman he was, he held the door open for you again.

The rooms were no less decorated, but once the original splendor wore off, you found yourself caring less and less. A large four poster canopy bed sat in the center of the large room, a plush fur carpet beneath it. The room was well lit, with a balcony on the right side that was allowing copious amounts of sunlight into the room. The window for the balcony was left open, and you found yourself quickly closing it, the curtains settling as the wind was cut off. A basin with water along with a few towels and rags occupied the leftmost side of the wall with the balcony, with a wooden dresser neighboring it.

Now in the room, you took off your boots and socks, not wanting to track too much dirt across the carpet. Leaving them near the wardrobe, you made your way to the bed. The fur, which had to be some kind of large white bear, felt pleasant against your bare feet as you approached. The sheets felt even better than the carpet, rich silks flowing through your fingers like water.

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, you dragged your hand across, and you made your way up one of the wood posts, the material sturdy and well polished. You wondered how much a room like this cost to rent for a night or two. Turning to ask Arthur, you found him at one of the nightstands that framed the bed, unholstering his gunbelt and placing it there, as well as taking off his own boots.

When he felt your attention on him, he smiled warmly, leaning up against the post you were examining after reaching you. He had his hands on his hips, about where he would rest his hands if his gunbelt were there, looking at you with such fondness that you completely forgot the question you were going to ask. Staring up at him, any rational thought went out the window to your right; the only thing on your mind was him. He must’ve seen this change in your demeanor, pushing off the post and stopping now right in front of you.

“Show me, Arthur.” It came out less like a request and more like a demand.

Arthur chuckled, a low yes ma’am leaving him before his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft like you were expecting. The force in which he kissed you had you nearly landing flat on your back, but you caught yourself with one arm, the other finding purchase on the side of his face as you cupped it. Kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, he leaned over you now, but the angle he was doing it was not the most comfortable, relying on only his core muscles to keep him upright and not crush you.

Breaking away, you took a gulp of air, laughing at the way Arthur chased after you, like he couldn’t bear to be without you for only a few seconds. Scooching back on the bed until your back was resting against the multitude of pillows available, you opened your arms up. Crawling up after you, Arthur sighed, content, when your touch returned, still holding him in one of your palms.

Wasting no time, he fervently resumed his kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip gently. His hands tangled into your hair, his hat falling somewhere on the bed, but you were too engrossed to care. One of his knees slotted between your legs, the other resting by your hip. As the tension in you returned, you found yourself inadvertently grinding against his thigh, trying to find some sort of relief. Arthur groaned when he felt you begin to use him, his mouth going slack against yours.

Moving from your mouth to your jaw, he pressed open mouth kisses as he went along. When you tried to move your head to follow him, you felt his grip in your hair tighten. Not enough to cause any pain, but it kept you still as he continued his exploration. You weren't able to do much but sit there, hips grinding against Arthur, but it wasn’t doing anything except get you more and more heated.

You expected to feel him start to leave hickies across your neck, especially when his mouth started trailing down your throat. But he didn’t, rather he was gentle with the soft skin, leaving no physical evidence that he was there. Before you could even comprehend what you were asking for, you were speaking, combing your fingers through Arthur’s hair like it was going to help convince him. “You can mark me, Arthur. Please. Let everyone know I’m taken.”

Your whispered pleas were not met on deaf ears, an almost painful sounding moan leaving the man as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath tickled your ear as he panted, his hands releasing your hair as they framed each side of your head. You thought he was going to turn the idea down, but you were elated when you felt his lips return to your neck, now sucking and biting as well.

“Anythin’ for you, princess.” He sounded positively wrecked. Traveling down the column of your neck, you felt him leave marks, marks that you were certain were going to be dark purple by tonight.

“Fuck, yeah, you’re so good to me. My pretty boy,” You cooed, nails scratching his scalp lightly. “Everyone back at camp is gonna see these marks; they’re gonna know what you did to me. They’re gonna know you fucked me so good.”

Arthur sat back on his heels, hair in disarray from your fingers. The sunlight filtering in caused the strands to become golden, like the color of the frames you saw downstairs. He looked almost heavenly in this light, the way the sun illuminated him. God, he looked beautiful. His blue eyes were nearly black with lust, and the normally stoic man seemed to be falling apart. “You- you can’t keep sayin’ things like that… then sayin’ I’m beautiful,” he murmured, running a hand down his face.

So your thoughts weren’t as secret as you believed. “Why not?” You questioned, a teasing smirk on your face. “I’m only tellin’ the truth.”

“Truth or not, if you keep goin’ on like that, I’m ‘fraid this night’s gonna end quicker than either of us would like.” Glancing downward, you saw Arthur readjust himself. The bulge in his pants looked uncomfortable, painfully even. With a sympathetic noise, you reached for the zipper on his pants, ready to alleviate him.

You were surprised when he stopped your hand, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. “Next time. I… I need to taste you, princess.”

“Is that what you were thinkin’ about earlier?” You tried to sound unbothered, knowing damn well that you were practically throbbing at the idea of him going down on you. The desperation in his voice added fuel to the fire in you, finding yourself growing increasingly wetter at each thing coming from his mouth.

“One of many things,” he confessed. “Is that a yes?”

“Arthur, if you don’t get your ass-” your comment was cut short by his mouth on yours. It didn’t last long, before he was returning to where he left off on your neck. This time, however, you felt his hands work at your belt, throwing it somewhere behind him when he got it unlooped from your pants, which were next to go. It took a little bit longer, but eventually they were tossed behind as well, leaving you in only your undergarments from the waist down.

You went to start unbuttoning the shirt you wore, but Arthur beat you to it, his dexterous fingers quickly undoing the buttons. He rested his head against yours, eyes looking down as we worked, grumbling obscenities when one of the buttons was stubborn. Eventually it was off as well, the shirt and the bandana adding to the growing pile on the floor. “I thought you liked me in your clothes,” you teased.

“I think I like you better without any. Now,” he nudged your arms, “up.” You complied, lifting them to allow Arthur to slip your chemise up and off your body, and, like the other articles, found a new home on the floor of the hotel. The cold air on your bare chest caused you to gasp, goosebumps erupting across your skin. All of that was forgotten when you saw Arthur, the heat in his gaze easily melting the chill of the air.

He sat back on his heels again, taking in your almost entirely exposed body, the only remaining thing on your body being your drawers. Letting out an appreciative noise that sounded almost like a purr, he rested his hands on your hips, squeezing lightly at the flesh there. Bringing his hands up, more and more goosebumps formed following his path, like your body was mapping out the way he touched you.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, princess. Even more so than I imagined.”

“You imagine me naked a lot, Arthur?”

He was right below your breasts now, running his fingers right below where you wanted him to touch. “You already know the answer to that.”

“For how long?”

Arthur stilled at this, a flash of panic cutting through his lustful eyes for a split second. “You want the truth, or a lie that would make me less of a creep?”

Well, now you were curious. Raising a brow, the man on his knees in front of you gave out an exasperated sigh, no longer looking you in the eye as he responded. “Roughly two years ago. I…” he trailed off, moving to rub the back of his neck, but you caught his hand in yours, forcing his eyes back on you.

You laughed, mostly at Arthur’s expense, but also at how long you firmly believed that your attraction was one-sided. “You silly cowboy,” you urged him back by tugging his arm, and he rested on his forearms, caging you in. “I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been doin’ the same.”

He hovered a few inches above you, and you could feel the heat emanating from his body. “I’ll have to see that sometime,” he spoke low in your ear. “You spread open, touchin’ yourself to the thought of me.” He paused for a second. “But that’ll have to wait. You,” he tugged at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, “keep distracting me. Let me get back to work.”

Sitting back up, he returned his hands to your body, still keeping away from where you wanted, just taking you in with his eyes. When you tried to push your chest up into his hands, he gave you a disapproving frown before pushing you back down. “No one ever teach ya patience, princess?” The absence of his body heat caused you to shiver, your nipples pebbling from the cold and arousal.

His hands brushed over the scars across your body, his touch lingering on the one on your left shoulder, the one the O’Driscolls gave you over a month ago. You didn’t have time to feel self conscious before his lips were pressing light kisses on top of it, murmuring soft words under his breath. Finally, you felt his hands cup your breasts, kneading the mounds in his hands, his mouth leaving marks as it joined his hands in his touch. His hands did feel even better without a shirt blocking them, the callous of his fingers deliciously rough against the soft skin

He didn’t stay there long, his own patience being worn thin. He moved down your body now, pepper kisses across the various marks on your body. His fingers pulled at the strings of your drawers, quickly unlacing the bow there. Lifting up your hips to help him, he pulled them off, and they joined the pile. Finally, you were completely bare to him, and you heard him groan appreciatively. Trailing his mouth down your body, he halted just below your belly button, his hands resting on your thighs.

He looked up, and his smirk was downright sinful as he lifted one of your legs across his shoulder, further exposing yourself to him. One hand held your hip, the other lying unused by his side. Your hands clutched uselessly at the pillows supporting you, gripping even harder when you felt him part your folds with fingers. His eyes were fully locked onto your cunt now, letting out a whistle when he saw how obviously wet you were. “This all for me, princess?” he asked, peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs.

“Just for you. It’s only ever you.” You panted.

You felt him smile. “Good.” He removed his hand, and you almost let out a small whine at the loss of contact. You were quickly silenced when you felt those same fingers sweep through you, gathering your arousal on them. The digits were soaked, but you had little time to feel embarrassed before he was running his tongue up them, tasting you. You let out a noise, somewhere between his name and a moan as Arthur cleaned his fingers, his eyes closed as he savored the taste.

“Gonna get me addicted, princess,” he groaned, his fingers leaving his mouth and resting on the inside of your thigh, keeping your legs propped open. “But I bet ya taste better right from the source.” You felt him place one last kiss on your thigh before his mouth was on your cunt, his tongue following the same path as his fingers through you. Going bottom to top, it was a broad sweep of his tongue, not targeting anything specific but you still felt your hips buck against his face when he grazed your clit.

The hand on your hip moved, resting across your lap to keep you still as he passed his tongue through again, and again. “Easy, girl,” he rumbled, and you would’ve been offended that he was talking to you like a horse if he wasn’t currently buried between your legs. Instead, you threw your head back, the soft feather pillows preventing you from smacking the headboard. Your grip moved from said pillows, moving to burrow into Arthur’s hair. Your fingers went to weave between the strands, but you second-guessed your decision, especially when he started focusing his tongue on your clit.

You tried to retract your hand, but Arthur caught it no longer holding your legs open. He brought it back to his head, and you gripped on to his hair. Arthur let out a pleased groan at that, and it seemed to spur him on more, lapping at you like he was dying of thirst. Every flick of his tongue sent jolts through your body, cries and whimpers of his name leaving your lips every time. You knew he had a silver tongue, but you never expected to be falling apart on it.

Because he was no longer holding you open, your thighs closed around his head with both legs on his shoulders, but you were too lost in your pleasure to notice. Now you were able to feel his beard against the sensitive skin, feeling better than you’d imagined. It would probably be chaffed and irritated in the morning, but every time you felt it you’d remember the way Arthur was devouring you.

You were so caught up on that new sensation that you hadn’t noticed the newly freed hand move between your legs, a gasp leaving your lips when you felt him pressed against your entrance. He stopped at your reaction, but he continued to use his mouth, the tension in you growing and growing at each flick.

When you provided no protest, he continued, slowly pressing his finger into you. It didn’t take much effort, your arousal helping to ease the digit in with little resistance, and within moments he was knuckle-deep. He was big, far bigger than your fingers, and you let out a small noise at the stretch. “You’re doing so good,” Arthur praised, his finger not moving to let you adjust. “My good girl.” His words were muffled, tongue still pleasuring you between words, but you heard them loud and clear.

You weren’t quite sure why that got a reaction out of you, but a very audible moan left you, and you clenched around Arthur’s finger, pulling even harder at his hair. He let out a surprised groan that turned into a chuckle as he felt you, and you could hear him smirk. “You taste so good, and you’re so tight,” He bent the digit inside you, almost in a beckoning motion, which caused you to see stars. “My good girl’s gonna cum for me, right? Let me feel you, princess.”

You were close, that was certain. That tension, the one deep inside you that had been begging to be released since what seemed like forever, was about to break. You just needed one more push.

He started slowly pistoning the finger in and out of you, at least as best he could with your thighs in the way. Before long, he was adding a second finger, the additional stretch just about making you finish right there. You tried to convey that to Arthur, but it was coming out as an incoherent ramble. “Arthur… I- I’m… please…”

“I know, princess.” He kept at the same pace, drawing your pleasure out of you. The thing that broke you was seeing Arthur rocking his hips against the bed as he laid on his stomach, trying to find some relief. With a loud wail of his name, you came, trying and failing to thrust against his face as he pinned you down, fingers flexing against your hip bone. It felt like every nerve in your body was alive, buzzing with energy as pleasure wracked your body, and your eyes shut on instinct, which seemed to heighten the sensations you were feeling. Arthur removed his fingers from you, but he kept his tongue moving, obscene noises leaving him as he worked you through your orgasm.

Boneless, your thighs went lax against his head, hands slumping to the sides of the bed, releasing the man from your death grip. But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, still drinking you in. But you were starting to feel overstimulated, and you let out a small noise of complaint, which got Arthur to stop. He tried to hide a proud smile as he came back up, but you saw the corners of his mouth were raised slightly as he lay on his side next to you, letting you take a moment to recuperate.

You took a few moments to just breathe, regaining control over your body and heart rate. Turning your head to face him, you slowly opened your eyes, and you nearly immediately shut them when you saw your arousal absolutely soaking his face. “I-,” if you weren’t flushed before, you sure were now.

Now Arthur was grinning, realizing what you were looking at. He wiped his mouth like he just finished a delicious meal. “I could do that all day.” He brushed his fingers across your body, not demanding anything, but just feeling you. “You doin’ alright?”

You scoffed. “You’re askin’ me that? I nearly killed you with my thighs!”

“I told you I don’t mind if it hurts. And it’d’ve been a hell of a way to die,” he joked, and you slapped him lightly on the chest, which, much to your disappointment, was still covered with a shirt. You noticed, as your gaze went south, that he was still fully clothed, and you found yourself frowning at that.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, confusion and worry now etched on his face, and he began to retract his hand slowly.

“You’re wearin’ too many clothes,” you whined, tugging at Arthur’s shirt.

He sighed in relief. “Whatever my good girl wants,” he chuckled, even more so when your breathing hitched. He got up, standing right next to the side of the bed. He slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, and you sat on your heels in front of him, waiting.

When you deemed that he was taking too long, you started untucking his shirt, working the buttons at the bottom. “Impatient?”

“I’ve waited two fuckin’ years, Arthur.” You hadn’t meant to sound angry, but your patience was truly wearing thin. You didn’t feel too bad when he started unbuttoning faster, the article off before you realized, joining the pile beside him. His pants were off shortly thereafter, the belt still in them hitting the ground with a clang, and he kicked them off his feet.

You moved back to let Arthur get back in the bed, and he sat where you were minutes prior, back against the pillows and headboard. Straddling his waist, your hands immediately started roaming the newly exposed skin, his muscles twitching under your touch. He truly was beautiful, almost aggravatingly so. He was well built, strong muscles protected by a healthy layer of fat that made him even bigger.

Various scars and marks littered his body, all proof of surviving a hard life; you kissed each one you saw. Your fingers ran across his abs, the muscles tensing as you went along. You were surprised to find that his entire body was covered in hair, not just his arms and legs, but you definitely weren’t complaining, the pure masculinity from it all the more attractive.

Speaking of masculinity, an experimental roll of your hips against Arthur’s had the man groaning, head rolling back slightly. But it also let you know that he wasn’t just well built, but well endowed. Quite endowed, if you were being honest.

After giving him a quick kiss, you moved back until you were more on his knees, and you tugged at the waistband of his undergarments. Like you, he lifted his hips up, and you quickly discarded it behind you.

One look and you knew you were in for a long night. He was long, yes, but thick as well, able to stretch you out in all the right places. You tried to wrap your hand around the base of him, your fingers nowhere close to reaching each other. Slowly, you began to pump him, and he let out a strangled moan. His tip was red and leaking, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick it. And you tried to, at least, but he redirected you with his fingers around your jaw, bringing his lips crashing against yours.

The kiss was filthy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owned it. The fingers on your jaw kept your mouth open, a moan leaving you when you tasted yourself on him. He pulled back, eyes shutting when you continued to move your hand up and down his length. He stilled you by grabbing your wrist, pulling you back up so that you were straddling his waist again.

“Y’feel amazin’, princess, I just wanna last.” He let go of you, settling his hands on your waist instead. “You ready?”

“Please, Arthur.” One hand gripped his bicep, the other on his shoulder. “I need you.”

“And you’ll have me. Just don’t wanna see you hurt.” You felt his hand creep up your front, hovering just in front of your face, and his pointer and middle fingers brushed your bottom lip. “Suck,” he instructed, digits pressing gently against the seam of your lips. You parted your lips, enthusiastically taking them into your mouth, running your tongue alongside the bottom of them. Your eyes never left his, and you felt him twitch beneath you as you bobbed your head up and down. “Atta girl,” he praised, “get ‘em nice and wet for me.”

You’re sure you were soaking his lap at this point, but you didn’t care. Working your tongue along the knuckles, his hand quickly became covered in your drool. With a pop, his fingers left your mouth, leaving you panting around nothing. You watched, transfixed, as Arthur brought his hand to his cock, slowly stroking himself as he coated his length. He let out a soft gasp, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and the delicious noise had you clenching around nothing.

After a few passes, he stilled at the base, holding himself upright. Urging you to get up on your knees, you scooted until you were just hovering above him. His tip nudged your entrance, and you both let out similar moans as you slowly sunk down on his length. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his bicep, most likely leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“That’s it. Nice and slow now…” he spoke, voice strained and clipped. The hand on your waist was vice-like, Arthur using every ounce of restraint in his body to not just sink you down on to him.

Even though Arthur had done some prep with his fingers, and your mixed arousal and spit helped to ease things along, the stretch still burned. You rocked up and down, slowly taking more and more of him in you. Small noises left your lips as you worked yourself down, feeling every ridge of him in you, and your face buried into his neck. “Relax,” Arthur murmured, the hand on your hip rubbing reassuringly on your back. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Arthur…” you moaned, your legs beginning to shake at the exertion.

“I know, princess. You’re doin’ so well. Just a lil’ bit more.” He kissed the top of your head, which would’ve been more wholesome outside the current circumstance.

It took a little bit of you moving up and down him, working yourself open until you were able to take him completely. Eventually, your hips were flush with his, and your head rolling back as you finally felt him fully sheathed in you. You’d never felt so full before, his cock reaching places you’d hadn’t realized existed.

When you leaned back, it puffed your chest in his face, and his mouth was on you in seconds, lapping and sucking and kneading at the soft flesh there. “Oh, Arthur.” Your hands were in his hair, keeping him close as he lavished your breasts. “You feel so good.”

Not stopping for a second, you heard him something, and the tone was almost proud, but it was hard to tell over the blood rushing in your ears. As you let yourself get used to him, rocking up and down him slowly, you moved your head to the side to let him bring his mouth up your neck, and you saw something brown out of the corner of your eyes. Turning even further, you saw Arthur’s hat a few feet behind you, and a wicked idea crossed your mind.

It took a bit of reaching to get the hat, causing you to pull yourself away from Arthur’s mouth. He let out a noise of complaint, hands trying to bring you back until he realized what you were reaching for. “Princess…” his usually gravelly voice was even more so, the word barely audible through his clenched teeth.

“What?” You flashed him an innocent smile. Clutching his hat in your hand, you slowly rode him, sinking up and down his cock. You tried to seem unaffected, but you couldn’t stop the whimper that you let out.

You secured it on your head, clenching around him when you heard the almost predatory growl that left him. He was losing the battle with his restraint, and you wanted nothing more than to see him succumb to his desire. Running your fingers though the hair on his pecs, you brought your lips close to his, only a hair’s width away from connecting. “Princess.” It was more of a warning than anything, and you felt him let out a huff of air.

“What’s the matter?” You teased.

“Nothin’,” you watched his eyes flick down to your entrance, watching his cock disappear into you. You would’ve believed that he was content with you just using him for your pleasure, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, but you’d seen the look in his eye when you put his hat on, and felt the way his fingers tightened on you as he fought to not to just take you as he pleased.

You wanted to see him lose the control he fought so hard to maintain.

“Really? Cause you seem tense, cowboy. Like you’re holdin’ back.” You smiled gently, rubbing his chest reassuringly.

“Dunno what you mean,” he tried to play dumb, looking away from you as he spoke.

You brought his gaze back to yours, caressing the side of his face as you did so. “I don’t want you to.”

It took a few moments for Arthur to respond, eyes not leaving yours as you continued to ride him. “Are you sure, princess? I…” he exhaled shakily, “It might hurt-”

“I know what I want, Arthur. You’re not the only one who likes it a little rough.” You brushed your lips over his, and you could tell he was still fighting himself. “I wanna feel you for days after this, Arthur. I wanna be able to feel you whenever I walk, every ache I feel remindin’ me of when you absolutely ruined me. I need you to ruin me, Arthur. Please, fuck me-”

Your rambling was cut short when he smashed his lips against yours, muffling your noises as he effortlessly lifted you off his cock before slamming you back down. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping up as he fucked up into you. The kiss didn’t last long, your head rolling back again, hat barely staying on your head as he took you as he pleased.

The sound of your collective moans filled the air, the sound of skin-on-skin muffled by your voice. “Yes, Arthur!” you cried out, and you felt yourself working up to another climax, already worked up from riding him previously. You tried to praise him some more, but you words came out garbled and incoherent, too overwhelmed with what he was doing to be able to develop a sentence.

“What’s that, princess?” you could hear him smirk.

You tried to respond, but all you could let out was a loud moan. You were just happy you weren’t back at camp, or else you’d never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again.

You heard him moan out your name. “You feel so good, you know that?” He panted. “Like you were made for me to ruin.”

You let out another cry of his name, growing closer and closer to your release. “That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking this pretty cunt so well.”

In the back of your mind, you knew that Arthur was going to be embarrassed as hell afterwards, saying stuff like this. But the filthy words coming from his lips had you gasping, a jolt of arousal shooting through your body. You said his name like a mantra, spurring him on even more. “Arthur, I’m- I’m so close,” you moaned.

“Fuck, me too, princess,” he didn’t slow down his pace, and you felt him bring his fingers to your clit, caressing the bundle of nerves. “C’mon then, cum for me.”

The added stimulation from his fingers, plus the sharp drag of his cock across your walls was enough to make you cum, his hat finally falling off as your head was thrown back in pleasure. This one was much more intense than the the last one, and you swore you blacked out for a second.

You probably did blackout, because you hadn’t realized you were on your back until a few moments later, Arthur’s hips snapping into you as he chased his own release. He pulled out suddenly, and you felt yourself pulse around nothing, feeling empty at the lack of him. Arthur was on his knees above you, pumping himself quickly as he came all over your chest, hot ropes of cum hitting your stomach and breasts.

He sagged forward once he finished, hands on either side of your body as he laid there catching his breath, being mindful to not crush you. You ran your nails along his scalp, the man shuddering under your touch. A few moments passed, both of you just basking in the afterglow of your release. The room wasn’t cold anymore, the heat generated from the both of you causing a sheen of sweat to cover your bodies. A bath definitely sounded good right now, but you didn’t want to get up, body pleasantly sore and exhausted.

You felt Arthur sit back up, getting off the bed entirely. You watched him grab one of the rags from the water basin, pouring a bit of water on it before returning to you. You let out a small hiss as the cold water made contact with your skin, Arthur apologizing as he cleaned you up. His touch was light, reverent, his eyes filled with an emotion you weren’t able to place as he wiped down your body. As Arthur walked away, wiping down himself as well, you situated yourself under the covers, the silk feeling wonderful against your skin as you nuzzled into the pillows.

Arthur joined you shortly, the bed shifting under his weight as he joined you under the covers. You watched him open his arms for you, and you gladly let yourself be wrapped up in them, your chests pressed together, and you felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You alright?”

Smiling, you looked up at him. “I’m amazin’,” your voice was scratchy. “Just sore. And don’t you dare apologize,” you glared at him when he opened his mouth to do just that.

“We can get you a bath later, if you’d like.”

“As long as you join me.”

You felt Arthur chuckle, his chest rumbling against yours, kissing you now on the forehead. “Whatever you want.”

Sighing contentedly, you stared at Arthur, who had now closed his eyes, his tiredness now making itself known. You were too busy scanning his features that you hadn’t noticed him cracking an eye open, raising a brow quizzically at you. “What?”

“You’re very beautiful, Arthur.”

You watched him stammer for a second, the bright red flush returning to his face from minutes prior. “It’d be pointless to disagree with you, wouldn’t it, princess?”

“Yup,” you giggled. The two of you sat in comfortable silence after that, until a question you’d been meaning for a while came back to you at that moment. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Call ya what?”

“Princess. I thought we already established that I ain’t one.”

“You want me to stop?”

You shook your head. “You better not. I like it. I’m just curious why you use it.”

“To be completely honest, I ain’t quite sure why either,” he chuckled. “It started as a bit of a joke, before we became serious. But I liked the way you reacted to it, so I kept callin’ you it just to see your reaction. I kept sayin’ it after because you deserve to be called somethin’ unique, somethin’ that’s special to us.”

“Earlier, you said I was something’ better than a princess. What’s that?”

“It’s cheesy,” he tried to avoid the question, but you gave him a pointed look. Sighing, he relented. “You’re, well, you. You’re an outlaw, a gunslinger, a survivor. You’re a confidant, a friend, a leader. You’re my girl, my angel, the best thing that has ever happened to me. All things that are infinitely better than some royal title.” He shrugged. “And sure, maybe you ain’t a princess, but you deserve to be treated like one. I guess callin’ you that, it’s a constant reminder for me to treat you like the incredible person you are, and to not take your love for granted.”

You held back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “You’re oddly poetic at times.”

“I told ya it was cheesy,” he grumbled, the bashful smile on his face dropping when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Shit, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Despite the single tear rolling down your face, you laughed. “I love you so much, Arthur Morgan.”

He said your name slowly, wiping away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “I love you too.” You tried to smile at him, but a yawn overtook you, causing Arthur to laugh lightly. “Let’s get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

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

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evilcowgirl · 1 year

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eeekkk hii!! I saw u were open for requests so I figured I'd send one :)) ur writing is so good it's criminal ngl. Could I get something with their s/o getting into a fight + some fluff after with javi, arthur, and Kieran, if you write for him? If not, that's good too!!

pairings: javier, kieran, arthur (x reader)

a/n: for my fav mutual !!!! this literally took forever bc im high school lol !! loveeedd this idea sm thank u for the request :D first time writing kieran i hope i did okay + some of these r kinda toxic so warning ! specifically javier but i hc him as emotionally immature amen

warnings: angst (arguing)

word count: 5.4k combined

summary: collection of short stories, getting into an agreement w/their s/o and some comfort afterwards

Javier:

You and Javier were indisputably infatuated with each other. Seeing one of you without the other could only mean that someone was looking for the other. You kept him by your side just as much as he kept you. Right next to his gun, there was you; you were even more dependable.

Between the two of you was a fiery passion that hadn't stopped blazing since you met. His loyalty to you was the only match for his loyalty to the gang, though you never felt the need to test it. He showed you everyday how treasured you were.

In the past few days you've been working harder than usual, Grimshaw even taking notice to how busy you've been which was saying something. You scrubbed clothes until your finger pruned and felt numb, not giving Tilly anything to work on when you were done. You'd even offered to take over on chopping vegetables for Sadie, which she gladly accepted. Anytime you weren't moving was time to think about Javier and how he wasn't where he should be each night, in your shared tent next to you. Books offered no real comfort regardless of how many Mary-Beth urged you to borrow to calm your nerves. The romance in them always painfully dragged your mind back to him. The nights were colder and the days drew on like you'd never known was possible. You couldn't help but give Dutch a bit of a cold shoulder around camp knowing that he was the reason that your love stayed away so often as of late. He didn't seem to notice though, his head was often in the clouds now.

You'd endured seven tiresome days and six lonely nights when Javier finally returned along with Bill. They were both relatively clean based of their appearance, Javier more than Bill to no one's surprise, with bags attached to their horses that were being unfastened by Dutch and Hosea as they got off their horses.

"Javier!" You squealed out, tossing Mary-Beths copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion into her lap haphazardly. You bumped into a few people on your way, mumbling quick sorries as you went.

"Querida, I missed you terribly!" Javier expressed. When he heard your voice he immediately perked up and forgot how exhausted he was in an instant.

He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close to him as you walked into camp, leaving the horses to be tended to by Kieren after their hard work.

"I missed you even more, I've been bored to death without you." You tell him and he kisses your temple in response.

"I'm here now."

You were relieved to have him back, but that feeling only lasted for so long. By the time Javier had the time to tell you of his travels with Bill the last few days, have a good meal, and rest for the night he was already being threatened to be taken from you again.

You were woken up to the strategic shuffling of clothes against skin. You could tell that he was trying to be quiet with his movements but it still woke you up; you couldn't feel his warmth next to you anymore. You watched silently as he buttoned his top and pulled his boots on, not speaking until he was halfway out of the tent.

"Where are you going?" You asked. As he pulled back the fabric of the tent you could just barely see the slight glow of the early morning.

He stopped, his hand dropping as he turned and looked at you apologetically. He looked less like a child caught doing something they knew he shouldn't be, a look you'd grown to recognize from him, and more like a dog being recalled to its owner after misbehaving. Still guilty nonetheless. He kneeled down at the cot you still laid on, quietly waiting for a response as he ran a hand over your exposed arm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Where were you off to?" You asked again.

"I—uhm, have something to do, I won't be gone too long. You go back to sleep." He says vaguely and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. As he does you turn your head away from him, causing him to look at you with these hurt eyes that you regret causing instantly.

"Why can't Dutch send someone else this time? You only just got back and now you're leaving again." You say firmly. You sit up in the cot, now fully awake and flushed with annoyance.

"I know, my love, Dutch isn't the one who you should be upset with, I'm not being sent by anyone but myself. Micha has been getting this together for some time now and asked me to join him, and I am." He notices the way your eyes narrow at the mention of Micha and says the last part as if to solidify it. To make it known that it's final.

"Haven't you done enough? I mean, it's not like you're the only one Micha could have help, there's Charles and John and even Sadie!"

"I'm doing this for all of us. I'm coming because he wanted me to come, now keep your voice down, no need to wake everyone up." He says getting up from his kneel, "I don't have time to argue, we leave soon."

"Then let me come." You say desperately. You push off the sheet covering your legs and stand in front of him.

"You know I can't let you." Is all he says as he grabs his gun belt.

He leaves you alone with your thoughts once again and it doesn't take you long to decide that this wasn't the end of it. You never trusted Micha to be alone with Javier, you knew that if it came down to it that Micha would leave Javier to die rather than risk himself like any decent man. Outside of your tent no one else can be seen yet, it can't be too much past four and after all of the drinks passed around the night before a late morning is to be expected. You march you way to Javier, still barefoot through the grass. He doesn't look up to acknowledge you, he simply continues packing his supplies into his bag with his eyes never meeting yours. It's as if you're not even standing there.

"You're so stubborn!" You finally say. You feel yourself getting worked up. Your fists clenching in desperation as you walk closer to him. "I wish you would just listen to me for once. I don't have not one good feeling about this and you just barely got back." You say to him and he finally looks at you. At this point you know for a fact that there's no backtracking what you'd started.

"And this is because you don't trust Micah?That's why you're throwing a fit like a little girl."

It was partly true. You and Micah had never gotten along, but then again neither had he and Javier in the beginning. You saw straight through his front. His intentions weren't quite clear to you yet, but you knew that they weren't pure. That was the only thing that stopped you from going to Dutch about the whole thing.

"All that Micah is good for is stroking egos and getting other people into his messes. How dare I worry for the man that I love!" He shrugs you off, scoffing.

"You don't know what you're talking about." It hurts to hear him dismiss you like that, someone who was usually eager to listen to your every thought.

"I know well enough. Please, Javier, I'm begging you to stay." You knew that your words would have some sort of effect on him, he was always weak for only you. You watched as his expression changed into something thoughtful but still just as harsh. He knew now that you really were scared for him but he felt that you had no reason to be. He'd rather scream and yell at each other than hear you beg, the sound of your voice pleading to him filled him with guilt.

"Maybe I should just drop everything hm?" He asks.

"What?" You ask, you're confusion and anger displayed so obviously on your face.

"You told me when I brought you into this—me prometiste, that you understood."

"And I do! I always have how could you doubt that after so long?" It'd been years since he allowed you to join the rest of the gang. You'd been welcome for much longer but he was protective and wanted to keep you far from that aspect of his life. It was apart of him that you made the choice to love and accept like the rest of him.

"Everything that I do is for us—to keep you safe. We need the money."

"You can't keep me safe if you're dead." You deadpanned. It had always been a fear of yours but especially after Micah joined.

"It's unfortunate that everyone can't make their keep by sewing clothes and flirting all day."

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stepped forward, "You know that's not true just as well as I do."

"Oh do I, amor?" He says in a mocking tone, sweet as pure cane, "I see how you walk around camp, how you talk to the men." He says to you in a low voice now that you've gotten so close. His body is still tense as he mutters into your ear. You know he's trying to push your buttons and is succeeding.

"You're being ridiculous."

"Maybe I am, maybe it's more than flirting? You don't seem to trust my judgment anymore who's to say your loyalty hasn't grown weak too?"

"You're pathetic," You say to him.You don't mean it, you both know that but in the moment of passion your words have no other purpose but to be filled with venom.

"Yeah?" He says nodding, egging you on.

"You're too stubborn to just admit that I'm right, you'd rather make a fool of yourself. Micah doesn't mean you well, he's leading you somewhere that I won't follow you to."

"So then you'll leave me? For trying to help us, you'll leave me."

You'd never seen him mad like this, his eyes were dark with adrenaline and you could tell he was only becoming agitated with your silence. It was a fearsome sight, Javier was already an intimidating man to everyone else, but for the first time you we're feeling nervous under his presence.

"niña estúpida, morirías sin mi." His words are venomous when they strike your skin, you feel yourself shrinking. You flinch at the harshness of his voice and words. He's never spoken to you like that before, so overcome with emotion, you stand still in disbelief.

At seeing the genuine fear in your eyes as you looked at him,you out of all people, his rage disintegrated in front of you. Tears were stinging your eyes, just daring to fall but you wouldn't let them. You couldn't have him see how weak you really were for him behind your front. Looking away seemed like the safest option as you couldn't quite read him with how you're vision blurred over, you just silently hoped that he wasn't even more upset at seeing you like this.

Javier took a step towards you, slow and purposeful with his movements and you didn't move away. When he saw that you weren't planning on running from him he inched his way closer to you, like a hunter approaching a scared doe. His hands met your shoulders first, hesitant yet eager, then all of the sudden bringing you towards him in one swift movement.

You were unsettled still, your heart beating out of your chest and making you feel dizzy. His hands around your body felt foreign with you so far away from your mind.

"I'm so sorry, amor. . . I was wrong. I never meant to scare you." Javier said, his voice breaking.

His declared beloved, the one he imagined whatever he had left of forever with. What kept his thoughts grounded and sent him into dreamlike states all at once. Seeing your tears finally fall, or actually feeling them warm against his neck, and knowing that he had been the cause of him cut him much deeper than any blade he'd encountered.

"Please forgive me, this was all my fault. I should never have spoken to you like that." He says, "Amor. . ."

“It's alright.” You tell him, “You didn't mean it.”

He shook his head, not knowing what to say.

Things are quiet after the fight.

You both returned to your tent afterwards guided by Javier's tight latch on your hand. Micah asked about what was going on with Javier having packed his things back away without a word. He'd simply responded by saying you weren't feeling well, expecting that to be more than enough of a reason. Javier was never one for letting people down or evading responsibility but he wasn't up for creating excuses.

"She was just fine a few hours ago, I'm sure she'll live without you for a couple more." Micah remarked condescendingly.

That was all it took for Javier's patience to reach it's limit. "She's ill, we're done with this conversation." The response he got back was a scoff.

You were a little surprised at hearing the exchange as apart of you was still expecting Javier to go. When he finally came back your delight was evident on your face, he came to your bedside again just like he'd done before and kissed your lips tenderly. You allowed him for your comfort and his.

"I'm sorry that we argued. I hate arguing with you." You said just above a whisper.

"Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. It's me who was out of line" He said tilting his head to the side.

"Well it doesn't matter now. . .I'm just happy you're here." You said bringing his face towards yours again.

Kieran:

Kieran's natural state seemed to be underneath some form of authority. He was treated terribly when he found lodging by working for the O'Driscolls, which you could tell had left him quite insecure of himself. Still, there was a reminiscence of subservience to the men that he saw as superior. Ultimately he was happier to be at the camp with all of you. Being here was protection and stability.

You pitted him in the beginning, sneaking him food at night while the rest of the gang weren't looking. Seeing him tied up like that broke your heart as you knew he wasn't this degenerate rival that mostly everyone accepted him as.

After proving himself to be at the very least somewhat trustworthy and earning his freedom around camp, having Kieran around became a pleasure. It was obvious to everyone that he fancied you, he was never too good at lying. Nowadays the other men teased him about it more than they brought up that he used to be an O'Driscoll.

He'd sit next to you whenever he found you alone and not busy, keeping his distance like he was afraid to scare you away. It didn't take you too long to develop feelings for him in return. He was sweet and well mannered; he always spoke to you like he was in awe of having you in front of him. Even when you started dating that admiration never changed from both ends.

There was a special bond between you two that no one else seemed to understand. Arthur had stated it to your face numerous times that he didn't get what someone like you could see in that O'Driscoll, to which you told him that it was simply not for him to understand.

The camp was a safe haven compared to being left alone with his old gang after his head, and for this he was grateful. Still, it didn't change the fact that he would always be looked at as other for his past. For the last few weeks Kieran's mood has been all over the place to an exhaustive extent. You tried your hardest to comfort him the best you could, running your hands through his hair and suggesting he try bonding with the other men in the camp but it was to no avail.

A particularly cold night you found yourself drowsily reaching for him for warmth like you always did. Usually he'd offer you his blanket and cuddle up next to you, a gesture that never failed to warm your heart. You were suddenly wide awake at noticing his absence.

Peaking out of your tent you search around for your boyfriend. You shiver at the feeling of the cool air on your bare shoulders but crawl out anyway. You see Arthur and Bill by the glow of the campfire and walk towards them with your arms wrapped around yourself.

"Well look who's awake." Arthur says, offering you a beer. You shake you head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Thanks but m'just lookin' for Kieran." You say.

There's still no sight of him as you look around.

"I saw him sneakin' out about an hour ago." Arthur says taking a sip from his bottle, "Go check over by the horses."

Kieran has always had a special connection to the horses. He knew so much about them, more than anyone you'd ever met before. One of the reasons he fell for you was how kind you were to the animals, it was refreshing to have someone around that was so pleasant with all of the chaos.

"Of course! Thanks Arthur."

Arthur was right as he usually was. Kieran was brushing Old Belle, detangling her mane like he'd probably done for a number of other horses before you found him.

"What are you doing up?" You say.

He jumps at the sound of your voice, startled at hearing another person.

"I should be askin' you that. It's late and it's cold so. . . you should just go back." He says trying to dismiss you.

"No, you snuck away from our tent in the middle of the night to come play with the horses?"

Kieran is silent for a moment and then puts his brush away. You furrow your brow at him as he politely walks around Taima, attempting to leave the confrontation. He does this a lot, tries to walk away from you at any sign of a disagreement. It's more frustrating than actually getting into a fight, which happens very rarely.

"You know it's rude to just walk away from someone when they're trying to talk to you!" You say grabbing his arm as he tries to shift past you.

"Can you keep it down?" He says in a hushed voice, "What do you care anyways."

You shake your head at him, "What do I care? Why wouldn't I? You've not been yourself for a while." You say.

"There's nothing wrong. I—I wish that you'd just leave me be." He says with a slight tremble in his voice, "I'm no good for you anyways. Everyone knows it; you even know it." He's not trying to walk away anymore but he's not making eye contact with you no matter how hard you try, which somehow feels even worse.

"Kieran. . ." You say, still his eyes stay on the ground in front of him. You wanted to think that this came out of nowhere but it didn't.

"Don't even try to disagree with me, 'cause I know you don't."

His cheeks and nose were pinkend by the harsh cool air and all you wanted was to bring him back to your cot and warm him up.

"I would never! I love you, you take care of me just as I do for you. You belong here just like the rest of us." You said.

"I—I love you too, I mean, you know that. It's just—I don't feel. . ." He trails off, his voice losing its confidence as he spoke.

You brought a hand to his chilly cheek to urge him on. The scruff there feeling familiar and comforting.

"I don't belong here like the rest of you, and I certainly don't deserve you. Miss Grimshaw knows it, Mister Morgan looks at me like—like I'm some kind of rodent."

You sighed at hearing the awful things that most likely plagued his mind all day. Your heart ached for him, no one appreciated him like you did but that wasn't enough.

"I'll talk to them." You say with a firm nod of your head, "I'll talk to everyone if I have to, let them know that when I'm not around to still treat you fair. It's only because of your past and you cant help that anymore than they can help theirs."

"No!" He said immediately, "I didn't mean to—to yell, but no. . .talking to 'em would only make it worse."

"I can't keep letting you get treated like this Kieran, they'll listen to me if I approach it right. They're not horrible people." You reason with him but he's still got that furrow browed-look on his face.

"Yeah sure. . ." He says but he still looks unsure, "I just wanna go back to bed right now. . ." He says.

"Yeah? Well let's go back to bed then." You say placing a kiss at his temple, "We'll talk more in the morning."

He nods unsurely, talking your hand as you both travel through camp back to your warm blankets and pillows. On the way there you pass Arthur and Bill again who seem to still be running through beers. You think to yourself that Arthur will be the one you speak with first, it seems the easiest since you two had always been close.

Back in your tent you hold each other close to warm up, pressing his head against your chest like you always did. When you both drift off it's an easy and light feeling, surrounded by each others love.

arthur:

A job gone wrong was no rare occurrence. It happened all the time, especially one as poorly planned as this. If you were being honest, you had no faith in the whole thing but it was in your best interest to keep

it to yourself. You had only been on a few jobs since joining the gang and never anything more intense than a petty robbery or posing as a distraction. When John proposed that you come with them on a proper scam doubting the probability of it all working out was the last thing on your mind.

Arthur voiced his doubts, of course, but you were in no position to side with him. You were desperate for your place along side the men and Sadie. To prove your worth went beyond a good pickpocket.

"I don't see why you need to tag along on this one." Arthur had said in that grumpy tone of his. He nearly pouted the whole way to valentine, trailing your horse so close that it had you nervous. Arthur was awfully protective; it was only a coping mechanism you came to figure out.

You'd been given a simple job, as John had put it, since it was your first time taking on something this dangerous. You were to distract the owners of a sizable homestead while John snuck in to search for whatever valuables they had inside. Arthur's duty was to be hidden somewhere close with an extra gun incase a problem arose.

The air was hash and chilly against your skin, making the tip of your nose distractingly numb as you stumbled over your words to the three men you were tasked with making acquaintances with. You were never this nervous; you'd lied before withe ease and never faltered once but now here you were being just about as suspicious as you could be. None of the men seemed to trust you—brothers you had learned, the eldest being the most aggressive and the one to do most of the talking. His attitude surely didn't help your pitiful performance as with each time he interrupted you or corrected you on your messy storytelling skills you felt yourself shrink.

"Ah yes well. . . I seem to be a bit confused. . . You see it was both my father and my dear brother who I've gotten separated from." You quickly tried to clean up the mess you made but it was too late. The three pairs of distrusting eyes looked over you unimpressed.

"I think you better get going now, as to not cause you anymore confusion." The eldest son said, stepping forward as his brothers stood firmly. You wondered why a man as capable as the one standing in-front of you would need two teenagers as backup but when you noticed their holsters you began to understand the dynamic much better.

"Oh sir, you couldn't turn me away just like that, could you? I'm lost and. . ." You looked over the man's shoulder to try and spot John through the fogged window but you could barely make him out. All you knew was that he was still in there and you were about to blow his chance of leaving discretely if you didn't think quickly.

"It'll only take a moment of your time, I'm just looking for the nearest station." You said, pleading the best you could with your trembling voice. John was taking much longer than you'd expected, your whole lost damsel shtick was only supposed to last a few minutes, five at most, just to catch their attention for a while but now you felt like the one being played.

"I think the lady here got a habit of being in places she don't belong." The one brother said. It was as if you weren't even standing there anymore.

"I think we best teach her a lesson." The oldest said. A sickening snarl in his voice that triggered your instinct to run. You couldn't though. There was a job to be done and you had to stand your ground until you couldn't anymore. You're eyebrows raised at the exchange and you hands fidgeted with the fabric of your skirt. As he stalked towards you the other two took their cue to hop over the banister, each standing at your side to surround you. You barely had time to react before you found yourself completely stuck. You gasped softly, looking around for any way to distance yourself from the men but you couldn't. It was hopeless.

"You done got all quiet now?" Confident steps across the wood of the porch were loud and made you flinch each time. "Don't be shy we're gonna get you that help you was begging for before." He says. You looked up at him with hesitant eyes, so close now it felt more real than it ever could have with a safe distance and knowing that John and Arthur weren't too far away. Now it was just you, these three men and open country.

When he reaches up to touch you, likely to brush a few strands of your hair back or provide some other unwanted touch, you can only imagine what was going through Arthurs mind. It all happens as quickly as you could blink. A loud sharp bang that was followed by two more pierced through the calm afternoon air. You were surrounded by bodies once again but this time you were completely alone. Splatters of red stained the wood of the house you stood in-front of. Where there once were men stood tall and confident in their ability to overpower you there were slumped corpses. It had all happened to fast for you to process it and you stood with your mouth unable to close, blinking eyes unfocused and staring at nothing.

A noticeably agitated "God dammit!" was heard from the direction you knew Arthur was hiding you. At hearing it you turn in search of him.

"Arthur!" You say, the name comes out of your mouth as sweet as a prayer.

You know he's upset but you can't help but feel relieved.

"What the hell was that?" John calls, pushing the door open as best as he could with his full hands, "This wasn't supposed to be no murder!" He scolds you as if you were the one with the gun.

"I didn't–" You try to defend yourself but he waves you off, "Ain't got time, we need to go now. There's no telling who's around that heard those gunshots." He's right, you nod.

It bothers you seeing John ride away on Old Boy knowing that he thinks you caused this whole mess due to carelessness but what bothers you even more is the absolute fury you see in the way Arthur's ridding towards you.

"Arthur I. . ." You trail off at seeing him walk right past you.

"You had one damn job, and an easy one at that!" He says, dragging the bodies into the house. He was careful to keep his hands clean and had no difficulty carrying the deadweight of the men like they were featherlight.

"I really did try! They weren't the kindest but I still could've gotten put of it if you had just given me the time." You said.

"Oh given you the time? The time to get yourself killed," He scoffed, "Now come on."

You huffed in frustration but followed as you'd been told to. Arthur still helped you mount his horse like he always did, silently lifting you up and then getting on himself. The ride was long and uncomfortable with how tense Arthur was. As you wrapped your arms around this torso you could feel the tension in his muscles.

He took you both straight to camp and once you were there he still didn't spare you a word. No one else knew that the job had gone wrong but the would soon enough. You felt embarrassed to be seen by the rest of the camp right now. It was irrational but you couldn't much help it. Instead of having a drink with your friends like you usually did most nights you followed Arthur into his tent.

Tentatively you pulled back the curtains, not sure what reaction to expect. Arthur was taking off his coat and unfastening a few of his shirts buttons. He didn't acknowledge you even though he knew you were there.

"Arthur I'm sorry things didn't go right back there." You said simply.

"Yeah me too." He said, you could hear the sarcasm in his voice. "I need a drink." He said out-loud, but it barely sounded directed at you. When he attempted to pass you you grabbed his hand , holding it in yours. "Please talk to me. I hate fighting with you."

"My word didn't seem to mean much to you before." He says and you feel every bit of guilt for it.

"I just wanted you to see me as capable."

"You sure proved yourself today."

"I said I could've handled it." You said, trying your best not to raise your voice. You'd never asked Arthur to swoop in and save you.

"You don't know men like I do, you should be thanking me on your hands and knees for saving you right now, but all I get is damn insolence." He growls at you. He nears closer to you as he speaks but you stand your ground.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren't ready like you'd thought and your place was here at camp, always waiting around on something more. You could ponder over it all you wanted but your pride wouldn't let you admit it out loud.

"You know how much I care about you. I couldn't live with myself if I let something happen to you, you know that." He said in a much softer tone.

"I know." You nodded. He'd told you so many times.

"Then stop fightin' me all the time."

To you it wasn't fighting, you just had something to prove. You let your head come to rest right against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. You felt safe here, more than anywhere else.

"I only wanted to help. Like everyone else." You defended yourself once more.

"Sweetheart, we got enough crooks running with us, you don't have to put yourself in danger like that to help." He says, stroking your hair in a way that makes your eyes nearly roll back.

"Just let me keep you safe." He says right near your ear. His voice is a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #javier escuella x reader #kieran duffy x reader #arthur morgan #javier escuella #kieran duffy

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 1 year

Text

Cardinal Sins and Other Desires

Okay, I know I have other requests that were submitted first, but I this weekend is a writing weekend because I need to decompress my mind and I wanna do something fun

But this one was requested by @cantchoosejust1 who offered a very interesting idea of Arthur and reader having to disguise themselves as a priest and a nun....and have some...interesting times.

I-

The idea is so juicy I had no choice but to do it.

This is my take on it but of course @cantchoosejust1 if it doesn’t match your expectations I’d love to take another stab at it!

It’s also probably gonna be a bit of a longer read, so strap in!

With that being said

Warnings!: NSFW, Uhhh religious type things but it’s sexy so like....if that offends you don’t read, arthur being delicious, female reader

Tags!: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Alright, that being said, everyone, hold onto your butts, let’s get this horny train rolling!

“Dutch, this has got to be your dumbest idea yet.”

Arthur scoffs as he looks down at the ridiculous looking outfit that Hosea and Dutch have managed to just barely squeeze him into, his arms raised out to his sides.

A set of Priest’s robes that match the Nun outfit you’re wearing, and you can’t help but agree with him, you feel absolutely idiotic wearing the long black robe with it’s white accents and hood.

The black robe Arthur dons is plain, matching black buttons, and something similar to a miniature poncho rests against his shoulders, that signature white collar sits around his neck, but if it’d been a single size smaller he’d be choking.

“I have to agree.” You sigh and look down at yourself, and at the rosary beads that Hosea had placed in your hand. “This is a stupid idea. The two of us couldn’t pass off as religious figures, are you kidding me? I couldn’t quote a single thing from the Bible.”

Arthur snorts in agreement and puts his arms down to his sides, looking up at his two father figures with a grimace on his face.

It was early evening, and Shady Belle seems far more inviting than going out into Saint Denis, into a Church of all places too.

“The two of you need to look on the logical side of this!” Dutch crosses his arms and stares at the two of you, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. “That Church has money in it, I know it does. We got a decent tip on it, and this is the best way to get in there and get it without causing a huge scene.”

“Why us though?” You can’t help but let the question slip out of your mouth.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like working with Arthur, quite the opposite actually. Arthur was fantastic to work with, he got the job done right, and he got it done quick, usually, if he could. He was precise, and he was good at what he did.

The only problem between the two of you working is that you were often distracted watching him work. It was obnoxiously attractive to watch him reload his gun in the middle of a gun fight, his back against his wall and the calmest look on his face, sometimes annoyance, but never fear. It was one of the best things about him.

That was about the only thing that ever-caused problems working with him.

That and the fact that the two of you tended to get along a little too well if you’re left alone for too long.

In both of your defenses the two of you have been together for nearly two years now, so it was only natural that it happened.

But, your question, it was more directed at why the two of you for THIS specific job.

If anyone was suited for this kind of job it was Mary-Beth, Karen, maybe even Hosea himself, but Arthur? You?

Arthur wasn’t exactly known for his play acting, or for his subtly.

“Because, the two of you are the best we have, you’ll get the job done, and the two of you are the only ones without jobs set up right now.” Hosea chimes in and quietly he walks towards Arthur, adjusting a part of his costume. “You’ll know what to do.”

“Arthur’s not exactly...” You swallow, trying to think of a nice way to say what you needed to. “He’s not really the stealthy type.” You finish.

“That’s why you’re going with him.” Hosea huffs. “We were told that there’s a stash of money in the basement of the church, as long as you and him can get there and get it that’s all that matters, if he goes to step out of line then you can step in and steer the situation right.”

“Don’t I get a say in all this?”

“No Arthur, you don’t.”

“So why not just send me in by myself?” You furrow your brow and cross your own arms now.

“Because you can’t pass as ‘Father Morgan’.” Dutch snorts.

“Ugh....’Father Morgan’.” Arthur shakes his head and looks towards the road leading out of camp, his horse and yours stand next to each other, grazing at the grass nearby.

“Come on you two! It’ll be fun, go out for drinks afterwards! Our treat!” Dutch moves closer to the younger man and claps his shoulder with a hand, shaking Arthur slightly with a huge smile on his face. “It’s just one job, I promise, no more outfits for you for a while after this one Arthur.”

Arthur sighs and rolls his eyes, but swallows and nods before taking a step towards the horses.

“C’mon Darlin’ let’s get this done with.”

You roll your eyes as well but follow behind offering a bit of a timid wave to the two older outlaws, moving quickly to keep up with Arthur, who even in his new outfit seems to move much faster than you could.

“This is ridiculous,” Arthur looks over his shoulder at you as the two of you reach your horses. “Look at this, look at me, I look stupid.”

You chuckle and smack his shoulder with the back of your hand as you mount up.

“You aren’t the only one Arthur, I look stupid in this get up too.”

“Not as stupid as me, I’m surprised this damn thing hasn’t ripped yet,” He sighs and mounts his own horse, struggling slightly with the tightness around his arms. “They couldn’t find anything bigger than this?”

“Apparently not,” You nod towards the road leading out. “Let’s get going cowboy, the sooner we get this done the sooner we can get out of these things.”

“You’re right, I know.”

He offers another sigh, but then turns to lead the two of you out of camp, setting off at a decent pace.

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

You lean your head against the side of Arthur’s bicep as the two of you lean around a wall, staring at the Church placed in a rather unfortunate location for the two of you.

It’s situated in nearly the center of attention, it’s not in an area that’s exactly easy for the two of you to sneak into it, the only way to go about it was to walk in with confidence that your disguises would work. ‘Stealth’ in the traditional sense wasn’t an option for the two of you two.

“Alright, so...” Arthur adjusts himself, standing a little straighter. “I guess we just walk in?”

“I guess, try to seem Pious, straighten your back, look confident for once Arthur.”

“Hey, I’m confident-”

“Yeah when you’re drunk and when you’re robbing, just....Imagine you’re....”

You stop and huff, turning to face him as he stands against the wall of the building the two of you have hidden yourselves behind.

“Play Dutch.” You finish.

“Play Dutch?”

“You know, be....fuck Arthur just be obnoxious. Everything you do, pretend it was planned out, if you’re confident about it they won’t question a single thing.”

“You think Dutch is obnoxious?” Arthur makes a sound that borders between a snort and a full laugh as he looks at you.

“Of course I do, but that’s not important right now.” You look back towards the church. “Just...Like I said be confident.” You reach up and gently move a lock of his hair behind his ear, it’s not too long, not enough seem out of place, but he definitely should have gotten it trimmed.

“I know, it’s a mess.” He huffs and reaches up, covering your hand with his own. “Didn’t get the chance to stop and cut it with everythin’ goin’ on in camp. It’s gettin’ too long.”

“Just keep it out of your face, you did good with your stubble, looks clean.”

“Good, now, gimme a kiss before we do this.”

You can’t help but smile at him, and offer him a quick kiss, which he makes longer as one of his hands grips your waist tightly when your lips make contact with his.

He has a habit of deepening those kisses that you mean to be quick pecks, little messages of love that turn into something far more...promiscuous.

You finally manage to pry yourself away from him, suppressing a laugh.

“Arthur, come on, we’re gonna get caught, now go, I’ll follow.”

“Alright, alright-” He starts to move away from you, but you grab his robe sleeve quickly.

“Sorry, don’t forget this.”

You thrust a bible into his hand, and then give him a slight push.

“Confidence Arthur!”

“Alright, I got it, I got it, jus’ come on, you gotta come with me anyhow.”

You wipe your hands on the front of your robes, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty.

You stand a little straighter and follow after him as the two of you walk towards the church, trying to control the sudden set of nerves that have overcome your body.

It’s late, the sun had set on the way into Saint Denis, in theory there shouldn’t be anyone in the church, or at least there shouldn’t be too many people in there.

It was the middle of the week, there wasn’t a Sunday Service.

Hopefully things would be easy for the two of you, as long as you could keep the charade up.

Nearing the church you could see two nuns talking to one another outside the front door, arms held in front of themselves, one hand over the other, and you quickly mimic the posture as the two of you continue.

Luckily as you pass the two of them they do nothing but nod and smile at the two of you, which each of you return.

As you pass through the doors you lean a little closer to Arthur, keeping your voice quiet.

“You’re doing great Arthur.”

“I ain’t done anythin’ yet, that’s why.”

You shake your head and swallow back the remark you want to say as you look down at the rosary in your hand.

“Just look around, where’s the stairs to the basement in this place?”

“Don’t know, I ain’t ever been in here, I avoid the city and most religious places like the plague,” he whispers. “I’m surprised I ain’t burned up in flames yet.”

You elbow him as subtly as you can.

“Shut up, if anything the both of us would be in flames by now if that myth was true.”

“Mhm...Awful crime, that premarital sex.”

“Arthur, I think it’s several other crimes that would cause us problems before that one.”

“I guess you’re right, probably all the murder and robbin’.”

“You think?”

He offers a quiet chuckle, one of your favorite sounds, low and breathy, short and sweet. It’s cut off quickly as he looks to the left, seeing a door off to the side of the main room, away from the pews and podium.

“You think that leads down?”

“Don’t know, we’ll have to take a look.” You sigh and look around the room, it seems completely empty, at least from what you can see. “Let’s be quick about it.”

“Right.”

He leads you off towards the door, and as you reach it he opens it up, only to reveal a small closet that’s nearly empty, despite a broom in the corner and a few extra bibles on the top shelf.

“Damn, not it... We should look-”

“Get in the closet!”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Your body is sparking with a sudden rush of anxiety, a sound from your right had sent it through you within a matter of seconds. Voices, is what it sounded like to you, quiet, but there.

“Just get in!” You shove him into the closet and follow after, closing the door in front of you.

The two of you are shrouded in darkness easily, and your body brushes against him, your back to his chest, and you listen as he grunts after hitting his head on the shelf.

“Jesus Y/N, the hell are you doin’?” He’s whispering, but there’s a familiar anger in his voice, well, perhaps its more annoyance.

“I’m sorry I panicked! I heard voices over by the pews...”

“Well we’re dressed like this for a reason-”

“We can’t get out of here now, they’ll wonder why we were crammed in here together.”

“What, you’re sayin’ Priests don’t get freaky now and then?”

“Arthur you know they don’t.”

“It was sarcasm darlin’.”

You take a shaky breath and Arthur’s arm snakes around your waist and he pulls you flush against his body.

“It’s alright Darlin’, we’re fine. What’s goin’ on with you tonight?”

“I don’t know...something about a church, I feel like getting caught here is worse than getting caught in a bank.” You mumble.

“What, all that higher power nonsense?”

“I don’t know, society does not take likely to thieves of the church.”

“Darlin’ society don’t take a likin’ to any thieves I’m afraid.”

You chuckle quietly and lean against him.

“You always know what to say, you know that?”

“Mhm...I try...Now...you think you can take a peek out there, see if they’re gone?”

You take a breath and do as he suggests, opening the door quietly and slowly, peeking your head out just barely.

You listen, hardly moving, hardly breathing, until you realize you no longer hear anyone speaking.

“I think we’re good.”

You step out of the closet and Arthur follows suit, and that’s when you see another door.

It’s straight across from the one that you just exited, and without another word to Arthur you head towards it, and pull it open, a feeling of relief flooding over you as you see stairs heading downwards.

“Good Girl...” Arthur’s voice is nearly a growl in your ear as he leans over your shoulder, he knows how that gets to you, he does, but in this instance you’re fairly certain he’s done it unintentionally.

He’s got a habit of making things attractive when he doesn’t mean to.

“Thanks Father.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Would you prefer Daddy?”

“Not unless you wanna cause more problems for yourself Darlin’.”

You chuckle and begin to head down the stairs, Arthur following you and closing the door quietly behind him.

The basement is dark, and almost damp feeling, you can’t see a damn thing and Arthur doesn’t have his trusty lantern with him.

“Well now what?”

Arthur’s breath comes out warm against your shoulder and an arm wraps around your waist.

“I don’t know, let me think.” He mutters. “I got my matches in my pocket.”

“Your robes have pockets?”

“Course, yours don’t?”

“No, it’s a fucking dress, so is yours I didn’t figure you’d have pockets.”

“Please don’t refer to it as a dress, you’re ruinin’ my masculine reputation.”

You roll your eyes but your hand finds its way to his thighs, patting along the robe in an attempt to find said matches

Of course he has matches on him, he can’t go more than an hour or two without a smoke.

“Mhmm...careful, you’re gonna hit somethin’ else while you’re down there.”

“Why the hell are you so horny right now, I’m not even wearing anything revealing-”

“Maybe I’ve been possessed, need some holy water...”

“Arthur please, can we find the money?”

“I’m sure we can, but I’m sure I’d be a lot more focused after...”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah, serious as a heart attack Sugar. Somethin’ about this place...somethin’ about that....the...shit...the idea of somethin’ like that in a place like this, a church...” He lowers his voice. “In public.....it’s doin’ somethin’ to me.”

You know he means it, you can feel his hardness against your rear, you’ve been able to feel it since the closet, you just refused to say anything.

The basement seemed like the safest place, if you were going to do this.

Not only that but Arthur wasn’t the only one who had this sort of feeling.

The idea of being caught...It was exhilarating, and the idea of being dressed as a nun, yet committing such lewd acts...

You swallow, and grip the rosary in your fist fairly tightly.

“Possessed by the devil, not a demon.” You mutter.

“Maybe you should exorcise me....you are a nun after all.”

You turn, and your eyes are finally adjusting to the darkness, you can see the look on Arthur’s face, the haze of red beginning to cover his cheeks.

“Maybe we need to fuck it out of you.”

“Seems like it’s what he wants...” Arthur murmurs and his hands reach for your waist, and that’s when you catch him.

The rosary slips around his wrists easily, it’s a long beaded string with a cross on the end, longer than it needs to be, but long enough it works perfectly.

You know he can break out of this makeshift bondage easily, but he won’t, at least not on purpose.

He watches, his eyes hungry as you wrap the rosary around his wrists as many times as you can.

“That’s new.” He snorts.

“Maybe that demon will be more willing to leave with a cross on him...”

You have no idea what’s convinced you to slip fully into this sort of romanticized sort of scenario. You know he isn’t possessed, you don’t even believe in that kind of stuff, but....the idea that the only way to expel that ‘demon’ is to fuck it out of him...

It’s doing something to you.

Luckily Arthur can catch on easily, and he follows your lead.

“Well, what the hell are you waitin’ for, you gonna fuck this demon, or are you gonna leave me tied?”

Quietly, you step forwards, and unbutton the lower buttons of his robe, following after that his union suit which even in the dark you can see the outline of his dick pressed against his thigh.

His cock springs out the moment you get it unbuttoned, and without much of a thought you lick the tip of it, listening as Arthur sucks in through his teeth.

From there you move to the base of him, and lick along his shaft, moving towards the tip before taking him into your mouth fully, and that lovely voice of his comes tumbling out of his mouth in a groan.

He rests his tied hands against the back of your head, gently pushing his wrists against it in an attempt to partially guide you, gripping, or at least attempting to grip, at the hood of your robe.

“Fuck....I didn’t....shit I didn’t realize I was that...sensitive...right now.” He breathes out.

You hum against his skin as you bob your head, and again he lets a groan out.

You don’t do this long, and his dick comes out of your mouth with a satisfying pop.

“Nah, that....that ain’t fair-”

“I said we’re gonna fuck it out of you Arthur, me sucking you off isn’t exactly a fucking.”

He’s silent at your remark and watches in the dim light as you shuffle and manage to get your undergarments off.

He watches as you kick them to the side and then motion for him to near you.

He follows orders, the opposite of his usual dominating demeanor, but that’s going to change soon.

You simply turn around and face the wall nearest to you, placing your hands against it, and then arching your back out towards him.

“Oh....shit.”

Arthur swallows, and it’s only a moment before his mind seems to be taken over.

His hands are still tied, but thanks to your earlier endeavor his dick is exposed, and all you have to do is pull up your skirt.

His arms come over your neck, his hands still confined, now settled against your collar bone as he manages to get his cock lined up with your slick.

He pushes into you roughly, enough to make you cry out, and from there he’s unable to move slowly.

His hips snap against yours, deeply, roughly, needily.

“Jesus Christ...” He huffs.

“He ain’t doing...much to help...you right now.” You manage to get out as your cheek rests against the wall, your body moving in tandem with Arthur’s, back and forth, your breasts grazing the wall.

“No...he ain’t....fuck....you sure you ain’t the devil?”

You twitch your hips, moving against Arthur in an attempt to get a deeper angle.

“Maybe...” Your face is hot, your neck too.

You listen to the sounds he makes, each little grunt or groan pushing you forwards.

“This ain’t very....fuck....this ain’t very holy of you.”

“Sometimes....you need different....solutions..”

There’s a noise the sounds from upstairs, and suddenly Arthur’s hands are pressed against your mouth as he continues to rut into you.

“Shhh....quiet Sugar...you don’t want us to be caught do you?” He whispers.

His thrusts get harder, and you bite down on his hand, the area you can get to, you think it’s the side of his thumb, doing your best not to hurt him, but it’s the only thing you can do to stop the moan building in your throat.

You love it when he’s rough with you, and this position, these clothes, getting caught now would only make things hotter.

You know exactly how Arthur would react, and a part of you hopes that someone will, but you know it’s for the best if they don’t.

“Fuck....’demons’....jesus...fuck...” Arthur’s attempt at another suave sentence fails as his hips smack yours again and again.

You lick his hand, leaving hot breath against his skin, and listen to him do his best to suppress a sound that rises to his throat.

“You tryna get us caught? For a Nun...you’re kinda....a slut...” He huffs out.

“Yours Father Morgan...” The words are uttered against the side of his hand in a whisper, but he hears it and he swallows, trying again to keep his voice from raising.

“Please....Harder...”

“Christ Woman, maybe you are possessed.”

“Harder...” You plea again, pushing your hips back against his, roughly hoping he takes the hint, which you’re lucky and he does.

“You know....I...fuck...I could finish you...if I had my hands....”

You offer a grunt in response and watch as he pulls his wrists apart and the beads scatter around the room, pinging against the floor in every direction.

His hands fly to their places almost like it’s instinct.

One against your throat and the other to your clit.

He circles it, matching up his speed with the thrusts against your ass.

“You thought you could keep me like that, but sorry Darlin’...I just couldn’t do it any longer.”

His voice is breathy, and he leans forwards, kissing your neck, listening to the sounds that escape your mouth,.

He only stops when the sound of the basement door comes.

He’s quick to move, his cock still buried inside you as he pulls you around the side of a wall.

No one would see you there, not unless they walked around.

He places a palm against your mouth and he leans his back against the wall, only to thrust upwards into you, slowly, making sure his body and yours wouldn’t make a sound.

“Someone down here? The church is closed for the night I’m afraid!”

Arthur moves slowly, his hips still gently rocking against yours, it’s nearly torture, and you want to beg him to move faster, but to quell it you bite his palm, just as you’d done earlier.

“Hello? Anyone?”

His dick pulls out gently, and he has to do his best to keep a groan in his throat.

“Must be hearing things.”

The two of you listen as the person heads back up the stairs and the door closes.

You let out a deep breath and as soon as you do Arthur’s pace picks up.

He’s fast, thrusting into you with a speed that seems like he’ll die without feeling you clench against him.

His hand comes back to your neck and the other back to your clit.

He’s persistent, and after a moment you know why.

His hips begin to get erratic, the rhythm and speed are off, and his breathing against your neck gets hotter, they turn from deep breaths into panting.

“Sugar....you nearly there? Princess...I’m....soon.”

You can’t do anything but nod, leaning your head against his shoulder as he keeps you moving.

The hand around your throat moves to cup your breast, squeezing it through the cloth.

“Love the way these bounce...” He mutters. “Even clothed it’s a sight...”

“Arthur,” You close your eyes, your arm moving to come around his neck, the other slapped against the wall.

“Mhm....you’re almost there, I can hear it in your....fuck...in your voice.”

It’s a few more of these hard fast thrusts and then suddenly there’s a warmth that fills you and you yourself come apart as Arthur’s fingers continue to circle your clit.

Arthur groans in your ear and puts his forehead against your shoulder, breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath.

You’re silent for a moment.

“You broke my rosary.”

“Oh, like you were ever gonna use it after this.”

“Maybe on you, back, back I say, may the power of Christ compel you-”

“Oh, you need more than Christ to compel me Darlin’.”

You chuckle and the two of you manage to get untangled, not before Arthur whispers in your ear about the mess he’s made.

“Gonna have me all over you, hidin’ under that outfit of yours....you ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary are you...”

“Shut up Arthur, the ‘demon’ is supposed to be gone, let’s find that damn money and get out of here, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me when we get back to camp.”

“Good, not like you were gonna stop me anyhow.”

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 drabble #arthur morgan smut

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agoldengalaxy · 4 months

Text

Rest Now, Dear Boy

read on Ao3

words: 2195

Hosea reflects on Arthur beginning to trust him and Dutch as a teenager as he watches him harbor the same fondness towards Lenny. Later, he wonders where it all went wrong.

1877, Spring

Hosea sat on a log, watching the embers from the campfire as they slowly rose toward the starry sky. He wasn’t sure how late it was, but he wouldn’t even think about sleep yet. It was hard not to worry when Dutch insisted on scoping this new area out on his own, but once he got the idea in his head, he couldn’t be dissuaded. It was something Hosea both loved and hated about him.

His gaze slid to his left, where Arthur sat beside him, a thin blanket pulled around his shoulders. His half-lidded eyes blinked slowly at the fire that illuminated his tired, young face. Despite it all, despite their situation, Hosea and Dutch tried their hardest to give a fourteen-year-old everything he could need, including enough rest, and it was definitely past the time he usually went to sleep. Hosea smiled as he took in the boy. “You ought to go to bed, Arthur. It’s late.”

“No,” he mumbled, managing to lift his gaze to Hosea for a moment before returning it to the fire. “Wanna wait ‘till Dutch gets back.”

They’d found him a little over a year ago, and he was stubborn, perhaps just as much as Dutch. They seemed to get along well for that reason, and Hosea found it incredibly endearing. He never would have pegged Dutch as being a good father figure, but he’d done very well. They both had, considering how loyal Arthur had become after their very rough start.

Figuring this wasn’t a battle worth having, he simply shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Quiet cricket chirps and gentle crackling flames filled the quiet that followed as Hosea turned his gaze up to the star-filled sky. It had to be the middle of the night, perhaps even later, and Dutch had left hours ago. Hosea worried, just as he always did, but Dutch always had a plan. He’d find a way to come back to him.

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, Hosea blinked out of his thoughts, watching Arthur’s head slowly dip downward - the poor boy was falling asleep sitting up straight. Without thinking, Hosea reached up, gently cradling Arthur’s head to guide it toward his shoulder. If he was awake, he didn’t fight it, and instead seemed content by the situation. Hosea held his head for a moment, sandy hair beneath his fingers, craning his neck to get a better look. Arthur’s face was completely slack, his mouth slightly open, the firelight dancing across his cheekbones.

Hosea’s heart burst full of warmth as he gently let go of the boy’s head to instead sling an arm around his shoulders for extra support. It had taken months to earn Arthur’s trust, and every day he was proving that they had earned it. Hosea felt special, like he was chosen, like he was really his father. He wanted to live in this moment for as long as he could.

Arthur felt warm against him, and despite his worry about Dutch, Hosea could feel a strong sense of peace wash over him.

He didn’t quite know how much time had passed until he heard quiet footsteps in the grass. He knew those footsteps well enough that he didn’t have to turn around or be on edge. Dutch approached the fire, placing a few fish beside it, and turned around to face them both. He seemed surprised at the sight before him, but said what he needed to say quietly and with a fond smile.

“There’s a small town nearby, not a lot of folks, but they seem nice enough. Stole a watch we can pawn off in the morning.” Dutch’s gaze drifted toward Arthur’s sleeping frame. “…What’s this about?”

Hosea smiled. “He wanted to wait up for you to get back.”

Blinking, Dutch approached them cautiously, sweeping some hair from Arthur’s eyes in a way that was so gentle it made Hosea’s heart flutter. “He’ll make a fine man someday,” he murmured proudly, and Hosea couldn’t help but agree.

Carefully, Dutch placed his hands around Arthur; one on his back, one underneath him, and lifted him carefully. With his head against Dutch’s chest, Arthur blinked sleepily up at him. “Dutch…?”

“It’s okay, son. You’re safe, go back to sleep.”

With some wonder, Hosea watched as the words seemingly put Arthur under a spell, making him close his eyes again almost right away. Dutch knelt down beside the bedroll and slowly lowered Arthur into it, careful not to jostle him too much. Once he was laying there comfortably, Dutch pulled the blankets over him, sweeping hair out of his eyes once again.

Hosea walked over to kneel beside Dutch, and together they watched their boy for a moment. He looked so young like this. They knew they would miss it some day, but they also looked forward to the future, turning him into a man like them.

Perhaps they were selfish, to take a boy and turn him into an outlaw, give him a life of danger. But his life before had been even worse. They couldn’t give him the life he deserved, but they could at least give him as good a life as they could manage.

Dutch placed an arm around Hosea’s shoulders. Everything seemed right.

“Good night, dear boy.”

***

Spring, 1899

Horseshoe Overlook still bustled after a few hours with much quieter, drunken celebration. With Sean’s return, everyone’s spirits had been considerably lifted, and for one night, nobody was thinking about Blackwater. For one night, everyone was happy.

Javier’s sweet voice carried on a soft breeze, filling Hosea with a sense of peace as he sat on a nearby picnic table to watch the scene in front of him without being a part of it. Much of the gang had already gone to sleep, leaving just a few left by the campfire. Arthur, Charles, Lenny, Micah, Bill, and Javier all sat in a small circle with variations of bottles and cigarettes in hand.

For a moment, Hosea’s unease, which had been consistently fluctuating since a little before Blackwater, washed over him again. They needed a good, solid plan, but Dutch didn’t have one, no matter what he said. Hosea figured he was still pretty rattled from their losses, and he wanted to check on him, but Dutch often waved him away. It was something he always struggled with. He never wanted to talk about himself when he had all of these people to look after. Hosea admired it about him, but he also truly worried about him.

The unease slowly dissipated as applause filled the air, replacing the song that had just ended. Bill began praising Javier, but Hosea’s attention was completely on Arthur now, noticing a difference from a few moments before.

His expression was somewhat uncomfortable, his body stiff, and the reason was obvious. Lenny, perhaps at some point during the song, had leaned himself against Arthur’s arm, no doubt the alcohol running through his body making him unable to fight off the sleep that came for him. For a moment, Hosea considered walking over there to help Arthur out, wake the poor boy so he could go to bed, but when no one else was looking, Arthur slung an arm around Lenny’s shoulders, supporting his smaller frame against him.

As the fire flickered, Hosea could have sworn he saw a smile on Arthur’s face. Just as quickly as he saw it, it was wiped away as Micah, Bill, and Javier stood up, the former scoffing at the sight. “Look at’chu, Morgan. I knew you was gettin’ soft. And for Lenny? Here, I’ll shove him off for you, since I’m such a nice feller -”

“Hands off, Micah,” Arthur hissed, which stopped the man in his tracks. Bill and Javier exchanged a surprised look. Charles attempted to suppress a smile. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s your own fault he don’t like you.”

Micah grinned, chuckling as he threw his hands up in a dramatized surrender motion. “Oooh, feelin’ feisty tonight. Don’t you scare the boy off, now, Morgan, he may throw up on your boots.”

Javier whistled, and Bill nudged his shoulder, grinning. “If any feller fell asleep on Micah, he wouldn’t wake up in the mornin’.”

From where he sat on the other side of Arthur, Charles rolled his eyes. “Would you just drop it? Go to bed, all of you. You’re drunk.”

“‘M not gonna do anything you say -” Micah slurred, pointing a heavy finger in Charles’ direction, but the other two exchanged another look. There wasn’t going to be a fight, not during a party, not even during the last hours of it.

Javier nudged Micah forward. “C’mon, amigo , we’ll play some poker tomorrow.” Bill followed.

Quiet fell. Hosea watched the three men make their way to their tents, then slid his gaze back to the remaining three. Their voices were much quieter now, but he could still hear some of it.

“Thank you, Charles.” Arthur sounded tired as he carefully removed Lenny’s hat, setting it down on the log beside him.

“Any time.”

Hosea smiled to himself, his heart bursting the same way it had that night all those years ago. He and Dutch had raised this boy the best they could - they hadn’t given him a great life, but they’d given him as good a life as they could manage. More than anything, Hosea loved seeing how big his heart had become, how much he was opening it to others; Lenny, like Hosea did for Arthur all that time ago, and Charles, perhaps in the unspoken way Hosea and Dutch cared for each other.

The jingle of spurs filled the silence that followed, and although he knew who it was, Hosea still looked over his shoulder at the man, not bothering to hide the fact that he was still smiling, unable to hold in the fondness he was feeling. Dutch, raising a brow, stopped just before the table. “Haven’t seen your eyes sparkle like that in a while, Mr. Matthews. What’s goin’ on?”

Hosea chuckled, the formality of it still so endearing as he turned his gaze toward the three men still left by the campfire. “Just…feelin’ proud of our boy, is all.”

Quietly, Dutch slid in to sit next to Hosea on the bench, following his gaze. Charles and Arthur still spoke to each other quietly while Lenny slept away, no doubt comforted by the closeness of his companions. Dutch smiled, wordlessly placing an arm around Hosea’s shoulder, confident of the darkness of night that shrouded them from prying eyes.

Hosea leaned his head against Dutch’s shoulder, and everything was right with the world.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #vandermatthews #arthur morgan #lenny summers #if you go to the link you'll get a nice angsty surprise for chapter 2 ;)#but god i just love hosea so much man #he deserved better #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

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ghouligancentral · 2 years

Text

It's Showtime Darlin'

Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

A/N-

I could not for the life of me figure out what to write for the summary so I just put a little blurb in from the story. I hope you find this to your liking. Smut is after the ********, the first part of this is just good ol' outlaw fun. As always, likes and comments are always appreciated. Also feel free to send me any ideas for more fics.

Cross posted on A03 @jellybeam1meup

Warnings/ tags: Fluff, smut, slight dom/sub elements, spanking, train robbing, Outlaw shenanigans, PiV sex, rough(ish) sex, reader is married to Arthur Morgan

------------------------------------

“What’s going on?” “Why have we stopped?”

Questions of confused passengers ring out as you look out the window, straining your neck to see if you can spot anything. A hush descends upon the train car when the sound of the door to the car can be heard opening. You don’t have to wait long for their questions to be answered.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You watch as three masked men brandishing guns enter the train car. Gasps sound out from various passengers. The outlaws work their way down the aisle of the train demanding peoples’ valuables. Your heart begins to pound faster as the men draw closer to you.

It won’t be long now.

Before long you are looking up at a tall, blonde outlaw clad in a faded blue shirt. A black bandana hides most of his face except for his ocean blue eyes. Those eyes almost look as if they could see into your very soul. He sets down the bag he is carrying and it is obvious he is about to do something. The man reaches down and grabs you by the sleeve, tearing it a little as he lifts you up. Something is whispered in your ear as he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“it’s showtime darlin’.”

———————————-

“You want me to do what?” You exclaim to Hosea as he tells you and Arthur the plan.

“I want you to pose as one of the passengers on the train,” Hosea explains,” then Arthur here will take you as a hostage as a way to escape.”

You throw a glance over to your husband who looks just as unconvinced as you are. After looking at each other for a brief moment Arthur finally asks the question that is on both of your minds.

“Do you think it’ll actually work?”

“Of course it will work,” Dutch booms as he throws open the tent flap before entering.

“I came up with the plan myself,” he continues.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Arthur mutters under his breath.

“You say somethin’?” Dutch asks Arthur with his iconic scowl. Arthur ignores Dutch’s question and proceeds to ask one of his own.

“How do we know this is safe? What happens if somethin’ goes wrong and I can’t get her out of there?” Arthur scowls.

Every time you and he work a job together he insists that you are beside him the entire time, but more so now. Recently, on a job, the two of you had a close call. Dutch’s plans were based on bad information, and, when it went south, Micha all but abandoned you which almost led to you being caught. Ever since then Arthur has had a hard time trusting Dutch’s plans and Micha in general. While he knows that you are more than capable of handling yourself, there's just something about letting you out of his sight that makes him uneasy.

“Arthur, my boy,” Dutch grins as he swigs an arm around Arthur’s shoulder,” I have all the faith in the world that you’ll be able to pull this off.”

Arthur just lets out a huff in reply as he brushes Dutch’s arm off him.

“I’ll do it,” you sigh. You’d much rather be in on the action with the boys than be posing as some old biddy, but you know the gang needs the money.

“You sure?” Arthur questions as he moves to your side. The concern in his eyes melts your heart. Although he insists he isn’t a good man deep down Arthur has a heart of gold.

“Yeh, I’ll be fine, but I’d much rather be with you boys though,” you give a little pout to emphasize your disappointment. Arthur pulls you in close beside him before giving you a small hug.

“Don’t worry darlin’. I’ll try to make it exciting for ya,” Arthur replies with a smile.

“Try to make it convincing,” Hosea sighs as he watches the two of you embrace.

—————————————

So that’s how you ended up here in this ridiculously puffy dress Susan had stuck you in. You squirm a little to try and make it seem like you are uncomfortable in his grasp, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. You try to keep a straight face as an idea creeps into your head. Hosea did say to make it convincing, you think to yourself as you clutch your bag a little tighter.

“Unhand me you big galoot!” You cry out as you wack Arthur across the face with the handbag. Arthur’s eyes widen in surprise as the unexpected force of the bag causes him to stumble back a few steps. In all honesty you didn’t mean to hit him that hard, you got a little too caught up in your performance.

Arthur blinks a couple of times to reorientate himself before wrapping an arm around your chest, pulling you next to him so that your back is flush with his chest. The strength of his arms is almost crushing. His calloused fingers grip your jaw as he forces you to look forward at the passengers. With his pistol and presses the barrel to your head, he begins to speak. You shutter a little at the act. You’re not scared at all, actually quite the opposite you love how rough he is being with you.

“Like I said before, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Kindly hand over y’all’s valuables to these other gentlemen or I might just have to start getting rough. You don’t want me to have to hurt this sweet little thing right here.”

You hear the horrified gasps of the other passengers as they watch him gesture with the weapon. The people get the message and begin handing things over quicker. Once the others have made it all the way through the train car, they continue on to find where the luggage is being kept. By this point, the passengers have settled down some but their fear and nervousness is still palpable.

Arthur decides to stay true to his word about making it exciting for you when he sees an elderly passenger staring daggers at him, almost challenging him to make a move. Arthur releases your jaw from his grip and moves his hand down so that it gropes one of your breasts. The woman lets out a gasp and clutches her handkerchief tighter, quickly averts her eyes from the sight of this outlaw seemingly manhandling a lady. You hear Arthur let out a breathy chuckle and you have to admit that it is a little funny.

The two of you stay there in the passenger car until you hear Charles call out,” time to go, the law will be here soon.” You give Arthur a slight nod letting him know that you are ready to get the hell out of dodge.

“Thank ya folks for your kind hospitality,” Arthur announces as he reaches down and retrieves the bag of stolen items he set there earlier. He shoves the bag into your hands and quickly returns the gun to your temple. The last thing he wants is for everyone to know whose side you're on. He begins backing up, pulling you with him to the exit at the back of the car.

One of the men seated near the front of the car stands and calls out, “ What about the lady? You said you’d let her go if you got what you wanted!”

Arthur stops and looks at the man. A glint of mischief flashes in his eyes.

“Did I now?”

You can almost hear the smirk in his words. Arthur lowers his gun from your temple and holsters it.

“I think I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided that this one here is mine,” Arthur replies as he lifts you up into his arms. The train car once again fills with horrified gasps as the passengers watch Arthur carry you out of the car.

————————-

“That was quite the performance sweetheart. But I coulda done without that handbag hitting me in the face,” Arthur chuckles as he helps you fight against your skirt to get onto the back of Boadicea. He jostles you around as your skirt makes the task much more difficult. Once he has you settled as best he can, Arthur mounts the horse.

“What else would you expect me to do when a big bad outlaw has his hands on me?” you giggle as you wrap your arms around his waist. Arthur can feel arousal pooling in his gut at the sound of your words, but shows no outward signs.

Arthur just huffs in reply as he spurs the Boadicea onward, however you know him better than that. You know he is smiling.

The two of you decide to stop at a hotel for the night to enjoy some of the fruits of your labor before riding on to the camp in the morning. As Arthur is helping you off his horse he whispers some wicked plans in your ear.

“Let me get you out of that dress and then I’ll really show you what an outlaw can really do with his hands.”

Arthur’s raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine; However you decide to tease the man a little more.

“Oh isn’t the big bad outlaw gonna treat a girl to dinner first? Let’s get something to eat,” you purr, you want to see how far you can push him. You want him to be rough with you just like he was on the train. It’s not that you don’t like the way Arthur fucks you, you love his gently touches and praises, but sometimes you crave something different. Something more carnal.

Arthur has to be in a certain mood for him to really get into being rough with you. You can count on one hand the number of times Arthur has taken you like that. All of them after a job.

In hindsight you probably would have gotten what you wanted if you had gone up to the hotel room at the moment since Arthur was already riled up and riding the highs of adrenaline. A quick flash of confusion flickers over Arthur’s face before he realizes what you are doing.

Arthur just grunts at your proposal and drags you to the nearest restaurant as he hopes the meal will be quick.

Dinner ends up being a silent affair, with Arthur being too horny to hold much of a conversation. All he wants to do is rip off your clothes and take you right here. Intentionally eating slowly, you just play it up even more. Arthur grits his teeth as he feels a bulge starting to form in his pants as the sight of you sitting there.

“That’s it,” Arthur growls as he slams money down on the table before dragging you out of the bar. This is it. This is the place you wanted Arthur to get to. You can hardly contain yourself as you watch him check in and get a room for the night. You feel a little devastated when Arthur tells you to go on up to the room to wait for him there while he gets another drink. He is making you pay for your sins.

You follow his instructions and go on to the room. It is small, containing only a bed, small dresser, and two bedside tables, but its location far away from the lobby of the hotel offers you the seclusion you had hoped for. After flopping your upper half down on the bed, you realize what a hassle your skirt is going to be. The crinoline in it prevents you from being able to lay down fully. Your core aches with the thought of your husband. What is he doing? When will he be back? You would have already taken your skirt off to be ready for Arthur’s return but you were definitely going to need his help for that.

You sit up when you hear a key turning to unlock the door. Arthur went ahead and just decided to follow you upstairs. Even though he wanted to punish you, he didn’t have it in him to wait. Arthur strides into the room before closing the door. He barely has the chance to finish locking the door before you are on him. Your hands desperately roam his chest as you try to unbutton his top.

You are only able to make it a quarter of the way down before Arthur stops you.

“Wooh there darlin’. I think we need to focus on getting you out of that monstrosity that Ms. Grimshaw calls a dress.”

You chuckle at his description of your outfit. That’s your Arthur, always the gentleman even when he does want to nail your ass to the bedsheets.

“Get that top off,” Arthur growls as he drops down to one knee to begin undoing the ties of your skirt. You obey and work as fast as you can to rid yourself of the clothes.

“This damned skirt!” Arthur huffs out as the two of you attempt to beat the fabric into submission. Arthur reaches into his pocket, pulling out a knife. As he goes to cut you out of the skirt you stop him.

“I’ve got to wear this back to camp tomorrow. Unless you want me looking like Lady Gadiva.”

Arthur grunts as he sets the knife to the side and goes back into battle with the intricate lacing.

**********************************************

“If it weren’t for all this damn fabric, you’d of felt how hard I was for ya back there on the train,” Arthur growls as he finally begins to succeed in getting the skirt off your body.

“Oh really?” You hum back as you run your fingers through his hair and you decide to see if you can take this further.

“You like being the big bad outlaw?” You question. Your words cause a low groan to escape from his lips. He likes this and you know it.

“I had half the mind to bend you over in front of all those people and fuck you,” Arthur purrs as he finally manages to get the skirt loose. He pulls both your skirt and bloomers down to your ankles in one fell swoop. He offers you a hand as you step out of the pool of fabric before taking a moment to admire your nude form.

Arthur presses his lips against yours as he backs you up until your knees hit the bed causing you to sit down.

Arthur pulls back from the kiss before standing up to begin removing his trousers. Another bolt of arousal shoots down your spine when you hear the sound of his gun belt hitting the floor. Arthur watches as your eyes flick over to his bandana laying on the dresser and an idea pops into his head. He strolls over to the furniture and grabs the fabric.

You watch, wide eyed, as Arthur ties the bandana around his face, just like it was on the train. the sight made you drool. Arthur walks back over to the bed and grabs your jaw roughly.

“Alright, here’s what yer gonna do. Yer gonna just sit there, lookin’ all pretty like, and let me do whatever I want to ya. Got it?” Arthur growls as he lets up the pressure on your jaw just enough for you to respond. You give a little nod.

“Good girl,” Arthur praises before letting go of your face in favor of removing his trousers. He watches as a beaming smile spreads across your face at the praise. Arthur pulls his trousers down just enough so that his hard cock springs out. You reach out to take him in your hand, only to be stopped by Arthur grabbing your wrist.

“Just your mouth, no hands,” Arthur growls from above you. You just nod and shuffle your body closer to him. A low groan escapes him when he feels your lips close around him. Arthur places a hand in your hair to position you where he wants. He doesn’t thrust into your mouth, but instead uses the hand threaded in your hair to bob you up and down on him, letting your mouth do all the work.

He throws his head back and lets out a groan at the feeling. The sounds coming from his mouth only cause you to become more desperate. You reach a hand down and allow two of your fingers to slip inside your dripping core. You moan around Arthur as you do so. When you moan Arthur looks back down at you to figure out the cause. When he sees where your fingers are he smiles to himself. Arthur pulls your mouth off of his cock and quickly takes the hand once holding your hair and places it firmly on your jaw. His other hand reaches down to pull your fingers out of your core.

“Didn’t say you could do that, did I?” Arthur asks as he kneels down to eye level with you. A wicked grin is plaster on his face as you sheepishly shake your head ‘no’.

“Looks like I’ll just have to punish ya for it then,” Arthur coos in a sickly sweet voice. Arthur lets go of your jaw and wrist in favor of undressing. You feel your core clench around nothing as you watch him remove the rest of his clothes.

The sight of his broad chest never fails to make you ache. Your eyes trace over the various scars spattered on his torso. You never understood why Arthur would always call them ugly. You loved his scars. You love everything about this man.

Your eyes continue to roam over his body and you take in the sight of his toned chest, arms and thighs. How could this man degrade himself so much? Arthur jolts you out of your thoughts by sitting down beside you on the bed. The mattress sags under his weight. You sit up on your heels and wait for your next instructions.

“Come ‘ere,” Arthur chuckles at your eagerness. You quickly obey and move closer to the man.

“Lay down over my lap.”

Okay this is new. You had only brought up the idea of him spanking you once. And that idea was quickly shot down by Arthur. Arthur was terrified of accidentally hurting you or taking things too far. He knew the life the both of you led brought along with it pain. He didn’t want to add anymore to your life.

But now Arthur was in just the right mood to try it out. In all honesty, he didn’t truly want this to hurt you, just to sting a little so that you would listen to him. Butterflies filled your insides as you lay your bare stomach across his thighs. The way his cock twitches against your side indicates that he is just as eager as you are.

“Alright, tell me if it gets to be too much for ya darlin’,” Arthur instructs as he rubs gentle open palmed circles on your exposed rear.

“Okay,” you whisper as another shiver of arousal runs down your spine. His hand lands on you with a smack. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes in the room as you let out a whimper. The force was much greater than you were expecting but it felt oh so good. Arthur gives your rear a little soothing rub before landing another blow to the other cheek. With each spank you let out little pants and whimpers at the sting. You can feel yourself dripping onto his thigh as the punishment continues. You know your rear must be red at this point but that doesn’t matter now.

Arthur lands one particularly hard slap on the skin just below your cheek. This causes you to cry out at the unexpected pain.

“Too much? You want me to stop,” Arthur questions upon hearing your cry. There is obvious concern in his voice.

“Keep going,” you sob, your nails digging into the sheets. Arthur just nods and continues with a couple more swats before he decides to move on. You gasp as you feel a calloused finger prod your entrance.

“Arthur,” you whine out as you attempt to move back so that his finger enters you. However, Arthur pulls his hand farther away, causing you to huff in protest.

“Beg.”

“What?” You ask as you turn your head to look up at him.

“I said beg. Beg for my fingers,” Arthur replies with a straight face. By this time all of your dignity has all but flown out the window. You want him to touch you so bad and you are willing to do just about anything.

“Arthur please give me more,” you beg, wiggling your hips a little. A harsh slap lands on your sore rear in response.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” Arthur laughs. The frustration is so great that you feel as if you will pass out if he doesn’t touch you soon. Arousal has clouded your brain. It is almost as if the whole world has stopped spinning, making it seem as if it was just the two of you here in this moment in time.

“Arthur please! Please fuck me with your fingers! Do anything you want to me. I’ll be a good girl! I promise,” you plead out as a couple of frustrated tears roll down your face. In the back of your mind you know the other guests probably hear your pleas to your husband but you don’t care. Arthur smiles at your words and quickly pushes two fingers deep into your wet cunt.

His fingers are much bigger than yours and cause a delicious stretch. You gasp at the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. One hand remains fisted in the sheets while the other is clamped down over your mouth to keep you from screaming out. Arthur begins to scissor you open in preparation for him. A low rumble settles in his chest as he watches you squirm and writhe around in his lap, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest at the knowledge that he is the only one who gets to see you like this.

Another finger is shoved into you as Arthur stretches you even further. Arthur has stopped the quick paced pumping in and out of you in favor of searching for that spot that has your legs shaking. It only takes the man a couple of seconds to find it, and he knows he has found it when you let out a little sob of pleasure and clench around him. In a matter of mere minutes you can already feel the tell tale signs of your orgasm approaching. Arthur moves his thumb so that it is resting directly over your clit. Your breath quickens as you feel the knot inside you coil tighter. When he starts rubbing circles onto your clit, that wave of pleasure reaches its peak. You cum with Arthur’s name freely flowing from your lips. Your legs shake violently as the high continues to take over your body.

You expect Arthur to slow his movements but instead he just continues. You let out a whine when Arthur begins moving his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion in an attempt to make you orgasm a second time. The pleasure is borderline painful at this point. You know what he wants but you’re not sure you can give it to him.

You reach back in an attempt to grab his wrist to stop him, but his other hand just pins you down against the sheets.

“Too much! Too much,” you cry as you feel a strange sensation building in the pit of your stomach. Arthur slows down a little as he responds to your plea.

“Come on darlin’. Will ya just try for me? Please?,” Arthur questions, he fully intends on stopping if you want him to but he really hopes that’s not the case.

“I’ll try,” you whimper before you feel his fingers begin to speed up again.

“Good girl,” he coos. Arthur presses his thumb down against your clit once more. This is all it takes to have you gushing onto his fingers. You moan out as you feel your second orgasm grab hold of you. Arthur keeps a firm grasp on you as your body twitches and spasms in his lap. You hiss at the sensitivity as Arthur pulls his fingers out of you.

“You took your punishment so well,” Arthur coos as he flips you over onto the bed. He has you on your side with your back to him. Arthur positions himself up close to you with his chest against your back. You can feel his erection pressing against the small of your back. The way his large body covers you makes you feel so small.

Arthur takes your leg and pulls it back so that you can halfway wrap it around his thigh. Arthur keeps his hand on your thigh to help you remain in the position. You feel his cock nudge at your entrance. You shudder as you feel a drop of precum land on your inner thigh. Arthur then snakes an arm under your body so that he can place a hand on your neck. His grip is loose as he doesn’t want to actually choke you. He wants to let you know he’s there.

“You ready,” Arthur huffs in your ear.

“Yes,” you mumble as you relax into his touch. Arthur groans as he sinks into your tight heat. Even after taking him so many times, your husband always manages to stretch you out. Arthur starts off with a slow pace, allowing you to get used to the sensation. His blunt nails dig into the meat of your thigh as he increases the pace.

“Yer so fucking good to me,” Arthur pants in your ear. You only manage a pitiful whimper in response.

The room echoes with moans as Arthur thrusts into you. You can feel another orgasm approaching at an alarming speed.

“Arthur! I’m going to-“

“Let go for me darlin’,” Arthur purrs as he increases his pressure on your throat. The feeling triggers your third orgasm of the evening. He grits his teeth as a low growl escapes him when he feels you clench. Arthur slows his thrusts to long steady ones as he works you through your orgasm. You can tell he is getting close by the way his rhythm falters.

You give him one more clench to help him along before his cock is kicking inside of you. Your toes curl as you feel Arthur coat your insides with hot ropes of cum. Arthur continues to fuck his cum into you until he is totally spent.

“I love you,” Arthur pants into your ear before reaching up to pull the bandana down off of his face to place a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too,” you respond and you pull his arm around your chest, snuggling closer to him. The two of you lay together panting for a while before he pulls out of you.

His cum leaks out onto your thighs as you feel the mattress spring back into place as he gets up. You watch as the man you love walks around to your side of the bed, undoing the bandana from around his neck as he moves. He kneels down in front of you with a smile.

“You did great,” Arthur praises in a soothing voice as he takes the bandana and cleans up the mess between your thighs. You jolt a little at the feeling of it rubbing against your sore pussy.

“No you did,” you reply with a sleepy grin. Arthur just chuckles as he finishes cleaning you up before doing the same to himself. You let your eyes slip closed and you hear him make his way back around to the other side of the bed once more. The mattress dips back down as he joins you on the bed. He pulls you close and spoons you in his arms.

“Was that rough enough for ya?” Arthur questions as he places little kisses on your neck.

“Uh huh,” you hum back,” you know I always like to see your big bad outlaw side.”

Arthur lets out a quiet chuckle closing his eyes as well.

“I guess you whacking me with that handbag really got me goin’.” Arthur grins as he feels you relax into him.

“Hmm I guess I’ll just have to work jobs like this more often then.”

That’s the last thing you mutter before you drift off to sleep.

#rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 dutch #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #I am a hoe for Arthur Morgan #fanfic #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fluff #arthur morgan smut

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allzelemonz · 9 months

Text

Lieutenant: Bill Williamson X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, implied masculinity, Reader referred to as ‘man’, ‘sir’, and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB implied, mentions of shaving facial hair Rating: T/Violence, crime Warnings: Incredibly gay and closeted Bill, internalized homophobia, period typical homophobia, Reader was an officer, dishonorable discharges for being gay, pining, uniform ‘kink’, mentions of Reader participating the the relocation of Natives, military habits and norms Summary: For a job, Dutch has you and Bill dressed in your old uniforms. It brings out some old habits and new feelings.

The whole job feels ridiculous. But it was Dutch’s idea and Dutch is the boss and there’s only so many people that can pull it off and you stopped listening after you heard the word ‘uniform’ so you don’t remember the rest. Even if you had been listening, seeing yourself in the old clothes makes your stomach turn. Everything was taken so quickly, your whole life turned on its side just because you let yourself be vulnerable. And even after all these years the damn collar doesn’t sit the way it’s supposed to. All of it aside, freshly shaven and hair slicked with pomade, you look like the lieutenant you used to be. At least Dutch’s plan might actually work.

When you leave your tent and the dreadful mirror Molly lent you, you feel a bit better not having to look at yourself in the dreadful garments. Of course, you only get a moment’s peace before Sean sees you approaching the stolen coach and opens his mouth.

“Look at that!” He grins. “Big man a’ the army!”

“Cavalry.” You sigh. “Officers are always more specific. Uptight bastards.”

Sean chuckles. “Apologies, sir.”

“Shut up.”

Sean snickers to himself as he returns to looking over his rifle and you pass him to find Dutch. He’s speaking with Hosea, Arthur, and Bill, all of them in their own disguises. Bill is the only other in uniform, reminding you of a degenerate corporal you had to have a few others hold down and shave before a visit from your colonel. Captain's orders of course, everything the captain said was everything you did back then.

“Ah, there’s our officer.” Hosea says, a fondness in his tone that makes you not snap at the comment.

Dutch laughs in that annoying way he does when things are working out for him, Arthur simply looks a little stunned at your clean cut appearance. Bill, however, has a red face and eyes that wander over your figure. Not that you notice, Dutch has already started talking to you like a father seeing his son in uniform for the first time. This gives Bill the freedom to look at you like he wants to. You stand like an officer, like those men that he usually hates because they’re so full of themselves, but it works for you. His eyes find the rank insignia of a first lieutenant, telling him you did something to get promoted or gain brevet at some point. Knowing you, it’s not so surprising.

“Now.” Dutch puts a hand on Bill’s shoulder and snaps him out of his ogling. “What do you think of our enlisted man here?”

Bill isn’t entirely sure why he straightens his posture under your gaze. He’s not really a soldier anymore and you’re not really an officer. But you feel like one. The way your eyes trail over his uniform, his beard, everything about him with some kind of scrutiny, it makes him feel like his sergeant is inspecting him again. And you feel that habit, the demeanor coming over you again and you have to swat it away because you hate that you want to point out every little flaw you find.

“He looks fine, Dutch.” You say. “He’ll pass.”

“Fantastic, boys.” Dutch laughs in triumph. “Excuse us.”

He pulls Arthur and Hosea along with him, all dressed as rich men. They’re supposed to be supporters that donate to the welfare of veterans but they don’t seem stuck up enough to pass in your opinion. You turn back to Bill and find him staring, but he looks away when you catch him.

“I thought you were infantry.” You say, noticing the yellow of cavalry on his uniform.

“I was…” Bill mutters. “Served in the cavalry for a while too, thought it'd look better if we, uh… matched.”

You smile. “Good call.”

There’s a moment of silence before Bill speaks again. “Didn’t know you was a lieutenant.”

You cringe a little at the recognition of your rank. “Yeah…”

“You get promoted er…uh…”

“Yeah, uh, first lieutenant.” You recall the promotion with resentment, not proud of the things you had to do to accomplish them. In retrospect, nothing the cavalry did was good.

“Impressive.”

Bill didn’t mean to say it out loud. He tried not to be around officers while he was a soldier but he had to respect them. He definitely respects you, uniform or not, but the way you look in one certainly isn’t helping some things he’s been trying to ignore about himself. You look like the kind of man that could have easily been the cause of his dishonorable discharge.

“Boys!” Dutch calls. “Time to go!”

You glance over Bill again and find yourself stepping closer to fix the most glaring of his uniform deficiencies. It’s nothing you haven’t done for a subordinate before, especially when you were a cadet. And it’s nothing Bill hasn’t experienced before from his superiors. It’s a very common act, wordlessly touching each other up, but Bill’s cheeks still turn red as your hands touch his chest and his neck in the process of fixing his uniform. Then you step back and he sees it, so he reaches out and fixes your collar. For once, it stays. Countless men have tried to correct the pesky thing, generals included, but Bill got it to sit perfectly on the first try and his hand still hasn’t moved. His fingers are so lightly touching your skin and it makes sparks shoot through you, but he pulls away when you look at him.

Neither one of you speaks to the other for most of the job, only opening your mouths when your false roles dictate it. Bill plays lackey, serving the rich men and the officers, so you find yourself giving him orders. Simple things, but you put on that command voice you used to use so no one doubts you. Bill plays his role well enough, though the officers you encounter call him a ruffian and a buffoon. You have to remind yourself that they’re about to be robbed blind to keep yourself from starting a fight.

“Hello, lieutenant.”

You turn at the sound of your rank and are met with someone familiar. A man you spent time as a cadet with and served alongside. No one special, but someone you used to trust with your life.

You glance down from his face to find a captain’s rank. “Captain? You made captain?”

He laughs. “A few years ago, I’m surprised you haven’t yet.”

“I’ve been told I will soon.” You smile, trying to keep suspicion away, Dutch should be done any time now.

“Good!” He grins. “Anyway, how have you been? I haven’t seen you since that relocation our platoons did together.”

Of course, forcing people off their land. The ‘glory’ days of your career.

“I’ve been fine, just keeping things in order.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Like that?”

You follow his gesture to where Bill stands among a group of enlisted men. He does stand out despite what seems like his best efforts.

“Williamson?” You ask. “What about him?”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of soldier you’d bring up.” He laughs.

You find your hand forming a fist and you have to force its uncurling. He’s insulting both you and Bill with a single comment. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “I don’t mean to be rude, lieutenant, but if he were one of mine I’d have discharged him by now.”

“He’s a good man.” You say a little faster than you mean to. “A good soldier.”

“Don’t go falling into those nasty habits again, lieutenant.”

That nearly does it. You’re halfway to the point of knocking the man on his ass when Arthur slides into the conversation with a hand on your shoulder.

“Excuse me, sir.” He says with a well trained smile. “I need ta borrow the lieutenant for a moment.”

The captain bows his head. “Of course. We’ll talk later.”

You follow Arthur out of the crowd, Bill joining you as you leave the event. Hosea and Dutch wait by the stage with Sean half asleep while holding the reins.

“How’d ya get on?” Dutch asks.

“He was about ta punch a feller.” Arthur laughs.

“I got the information.” You scoff. “Can we go now?”

“What made you want to hit a man?” Hosea asks as he nudges Sean awake.

You sigh as you shrug off the uncomfortable uniform coat. “Officers are bastards, that’s all.”

“Course they are.” Bill mutters, crumbling his own coat in his hands.

“You boys did good.” Dutch reassures. “And it’ll be a long time before we play soldier again.”

And it is a long time before Dutch asks you to put on the uniform for a con again. This time it’s much simpler, just you and him going to some officer’s party under the ruse of a officer and his proud father while you pickpocket and leave with a nice stagecoach to fence. The night is full of officers telling stories about killing ‘savages’ and their mothers calling every young man they see handsome and their fathers boasting about how proud they are. It brings up too many memories and feelings of wanting to knock smug looks off of people’s faces. But when it’s over you have a quiet ride home as Dutch and you separate to not cause suspicion.

Bill is on watch when you return and you recall him in his own uniform with much more fondness than you should. He doesn’t call out to ask who’s there, he just stares as you pass. You hitch your horse with the others and take a few minutes to give them attention, but the sound of your name makes you turn around.

With his rifle slung over his shoulder, Bill stands awkwardly in front of you. “The-The job go good?”

You nod, suddenly feeling the tightness of your collar on your neck. You unbutton it and catch the rising heat on Bill’s face as you do. “Alright, Bill?”

He nods quickly. “‘m fine.” His eyes dart from your unbuttoned collar to your face. “You, uh, ya wanna have a drink?”

It’s your turn to feel heat. You clear your throat and shuffle a bit on your feet. “I-I can’t, I gotta do something for Dutch.”

No you don’t, you’re in denial and very much not ready to be feeling what you’re feeling about the man in front of you. So is Bill, but he really can’t look at you in that uniform with any level of control.

“Oh…”

The disappointment is apparent in his voice and it shakes you a little. “Maybe… maybe it could wait for a, uh, a few minutes.”

Bill isn’t entirely sure where his confidence comes from. He’s never good at these things but he manages enough in the moment to step closer to you and ball his fist in your uniform to press his lips to yours. It lasts just a second before his senses come back and he pulls away, but a second is more than enough time for you to realize denying what you want from Bill is stupid.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” He stumbles like you’re a real officer and he’s reliving his own discharge.

You cut Bill off and reconnect your lips, pulling him closer with your hands cupping his face. The rifle on his shoulder slides off before his hands find your waist and he returns the kiss with much more enthusiasm this time. You can feel when his hands move and run over each button until he lays his palms flat against your chest. It makes your heart beat fast and your breath stall, causing you to pull away a bit. Bill freezes, his eyes looking over your face to find what he did wrong, but he’s distracted by your thumb as it strokes his cheek.

“You like the uniform, I take it?” You whisper.

Bill nods, not quite capable of words when your eyes sparkle back at him in the moonlight.

“I hate it.” You mutter, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “It’s not all you like is it?”

“No!” Bill says before realizing he should be quiet. “No, I-I like plenty about ya.” His hands slide back down to your waist and squeeze unconsciously. “Ya just… ya look so…”

His words catch in his throat as he meets your eyes again and all he can do is kiss you. You smile into it and let yourself relax, knowing that it’s not just some latent soldier’s fantasy to fraternize with an officer. Even you have to admit, men always look good in the stupid uniforms. Especially Bill, but he always looks nice. It’s not like you can be punished for feeling this way now, so the thoughts fly through your mind freely and you don’t hold back when Bill pulls you a little closer.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #bill williamson #bill williamson x reader #bill williamson x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader

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pigeonsareevil · 8 months

Text

Man, i dont know wether everyone noticed this and im just dumb and oblivious or if im being completely delusional but i think im realising why Dutch trusted Micah so much even when Hosea and Arthur complained about it.

I think what he thought, was that this is going to be a similar scenario to many other gang members in the past when they first joined.

Im not sure but thinking about it, there are many people in the gang that i feel like when they joined, Hosea and Arthur weren't happy about, but they proved themselves to the gang and changed for the better so the older members accepted them.

Hell, this could have been the case with Arthur too. Hosea mentions he was a wild delinquent when they took him in but he changed and that makes me think that Hosea originally didnt want Arthur to join them, but Dutch saw something in this feral orphan, took him in and soon enough, even Hosea grew fond of him. Even came to love him as a son.

I feel like it took a lot of convincing from Dutch to let Arthur stay but when he did, and he saw the man Arthur became, Dutch probably started believing that there is good in everyone and everyone is capable of changing for the better if they are given the chance, that is of course, if he didnt already believe in that.

That is probably how we ended up with many of the gang members who cause a bit of trouble or aren't really contributing to the gang or just the ones Hosea and Arthur arent really fond of. Specific names that come to mind are Bill, Sean and Swanson. Now im definetely not saying i dislike these characters. Nor am i saying that Sean or Bill dont contribute or that Arthur and Hosea dislike Swanson or Sean or anything like that but you get the idea.

Dutch, to me, seems way more open to strangers and troubled people, good example of this is Sadie, he didn't even hesitate about taking her in, she was in trouble and needed help, he didn't care that he didn't know her and she could potentially figure out who they are and tell the law about them (she wouldn't do that of course but someone else could have been in her place, you know) or Maybe even Kieran, who used to be member of their a rival gang but people told Dutch he saved Arthurs life so he let him stay with them. Of course they didnt trust Kieran as much but just the fact that he let him live after, even more, he let him live AND stay with them when he clearly didnt't have to shows that he is way more trusting of strangers whereas Hosea and Arthur are way more protective of the people already in the gang, protecting them from these strangers.

Seems to me like Dutch saw Micah, says the man saved his life? I think? And thought: "there is some goodness inside this person, he just needs an opportunity and a place to change for the better, even if Arthur and Hosea dont agree and say i should cut him loose, what kind of person would i be, preaching about giving people who were wronged by their life and this country a second chance yet throwing this person away after messing up a few times. It took other people in this gang months, even years to change and they did change, Hosea and Arthur used to complain but now those people are a part of their family so why shouldn't i give this person a chance?"

This of course, could have been the case had Micah actually wanted to change from his habbits and break away from his past but i think it is clear that from his dialougue he is happy being just the way he is. He just kept telling Dutch he wants to change so Dutch would let him stay and and Dutch, believing him, dragged the whole gang to destruction because of this, because he put so much time and effort into trying to help, change and save someone who didn't need it

#i wrote this on school breaks with minimal amount of sleep so sorry if this is stupid and gramatically incorrect i wasnt really checking it #i just had this thought while reading fanfics last night about Hosea and Dutch meeting Arthur #Hosea not wanting him at first but growing to love him and Dutch having to convince Hosea to let Arthur stay #guess i saw some parallels in that #there is probably more i could say about this but im forgetting it so ill update this if i figure it out #dutch van der linde #micah bell #arthur morgan #hosea mathews #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #stupid emo mango lover ate my brain #now he lives in my head rent free #im not complaining though

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arthurthethird · 1 year

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Hey! Could you write some headcanons or possibly a fic on Micah as a dad? Thank you so much!

A/N: Personally, I love this idea. Micah, even tho he's a complete asshole and I'd put a bullet in his head, is one of my favorite characters. Hopefully you enjoy! (Gender isn't specified so reader is gender neutral)

Micah as a father

GN! Reader

Living is a Bell is absolutely humiliating. Everyone knows him, everyone knows he's an asshole. Most think you're just the same.

Now, there are exceptions. Hosea, Dutch, even Arthur. Ms. Grimshaw technically as well, but she still keeps an eye on you.

You did have some of his features. Mostly in personality, although you had the same nose and eyes. You had anger issues. You were quick to get in a fight. But you still tried to be nice, just to show others that you are not like your father.

Speaking of who, wasn't good in parenting. He was akward around you when you were younger. And while yes, he did soften up, laying off on making other's lives miserable, he was still annoying. It's not like he didn't try to be a good father, but he was simply bad at it. He did buy (or steal) some things for you. Clothes, trinkets, weapons. He taught you how to shoot, yet Arthur still helped you more, since according to him "that bastard is horrible at this".

Hosea taught you how to read. Since Micah didn't know how to himself. Dutch taught you how to swim. Long story short, the gang mostly raised you.

One day you brought a dog in. It was while you were still in Blackwater. Oh what a mess.

Most people were happy, loving the new companion. However when you brought it to your father...

"What the hell is that?!"

"It's a dog?" You smiled. "I called him Biscuit"

"It's a monster! Throw it out!" Your father screeched, ready to kick the dog away, but you made sure he's a good distance away.

"No, he's belongs to our family now!"

"I'll show you where that thing belongs!" He yelled, taking a gun.

.... He shot the dog.

Only pet he ever let you keep was a rat. (what a surprise)

You called it Plague. Everyone liked Plague. He died because Uncle stepped on him.

You still tried to make him proud. Because maybe, just maybe, he'll be nicer to everyone if he's proud of you.

You made sure to bring anything you find when you were in Colter. Freezing your ass off, refusing to rest, making sure everyone was well fed. It was hard, you weren't made for snowy weather, but you did anything you could.

"Y/N, please..." Hosea walked to you as you were making your arrows, trying to remember what Charles taught you. "Go rest"

"I can't. We need to survive. We won't survive without food"

"As much as I love your courage-" Dutch approached you, getting a side glare from his partner. "-I can't let you go out. You've been working hard... You have to relax before you freeze to death."

"I really can't" you sigh. You were so close to hearing from your father he's proud of you, you could feel it. You knew he was grateful, he had to be!

You ended up stuck to bed as soon as you got to Horseshoe Overlook.

It didn't last long, a week, maybe two, but you were back on your feet before you even got healthy. If your father caught you resting... You couldn't risk it.

When you found out he was in jail, you begged to let them go for you. Arthur was hesitant, but Dutch allowed it. You jumped on your horse as soon as you could.

You arrived in the town surprisingly quickly. You walked to the jail, looking around it before walking to the window on the side, kneeling down.

"Hey dad"

"Y/N? The hell are you doing here?!"

"I came to save you" you looked around, trying to figure out how to save him. He growled frustrated.

"Why the hell did they let you?! Idiots... You'll die out here!"

".... Are you worried about me?"

"I'm worried about having to drag your corpse all the way back"

"I can leave, I'm sure Arthur will come before they hang you" you got up, turning around, but stopped when you heard his panicked voice.

"No! No, forget it! Get me out of here!"

"We talked about this.... Magic word"

"Oh for god's.... Please"

"You got it"

You wanted to stick with him after, but he told you to go back and tell Dutch he's fine. You were sad, but did as you were told. Tho over the thunder as you left, you could say a quiet thank you... Or was it the wind?

When you moved to Clement's Point, you were happy to see him again. He said he wasn't because he has to deal with you again, but you knew that wasn't true. Hopefully.

You were scared shitless when they went to talk with Colm... Yet got mad when they came back without Arthur. He was like an older brother to you, and he was gone because of him. You haven't talked with either him or Dutch until Arthur came back. It hurt him. You think so. His eyes tell everything.

Saint Denis was pretty calm. Until the bank robbery... Watching Hosea die was hard breaking. He was what Micah couldn't be. You loved him like he'd be your biological father. You were miserable.

Guarma didn't help. If anything, it made things worse. You mostly stuck with Dutch, still trying to help to impress your father, and to help him with his partner's loss. He appreciated that, it seemed. He trusted Micah, and trusted you even more, since you were like his own child. He didn't like to talk about what happened, but was grateful for your presence.

After you got back to America, you went on your own. Trying to find your way to the rest of the gang wasn't easy, but you were one of the first. You did have a close call with law men and Pinkertons, but still managed.

You didn't get to be glad about everyone coming back because of the attack. You tried your best to shoot as many men possible, trying to make sure everyone was safe. You did get some close call, one bullet so close it hit your skin, but didn't get stuck in your arm. Even this didn't stop you from fighting for your gang. For your family.

Days went by. You spent them mostly with Dutch and your father, still trying to stay close to others. Arthur had noticed something going on between the two, he did ask you to keep an eye on them. You promised to do so, but Micah seemed to pull you away from everyone slowly. Or maybe it was you that was staying away? You weren't sure.

Now you were standing frozen. Staring at your leader, pointing a gun at your father and your brother. You watched as he walked to the side, both guns now on John and Arthur. You didn't know what to do. You were scared, confused, sad. And angry.

"Y/N... Get over here" your father looked at you. Others already chose their sides, now staring at you to see what you did.

"Don't do it!" Arthur coughed out. You never realized how sick he was getting. You were looking at the both of them, before taking a deep breath.

You walked to your father. He grinned, happy. It was a chance to finally make him proud.

But as you took your steps, you realized...

"I won't make you proud, will I?" You spat, just to be met with a slowly forming confused look. You continued "everyday I worked, tried so hard to make you happy, to impress you... I don't know if I was trying to win your love or respect. But I don't think I should even try to win it. You're my father, aren't you supposed to give those things unconditionally?"

Micah opened his mouth, but you kept going. "I'm done. I don't want to fight for it anymore. I will never satisfy you, no matter what I do" you sighed, turning to Dutch. "Think about what you're doing. Think about Hosea would say. Because for god's sake, he'd slap you across your face for even pointing your gun at your son's. But make your own decision. I'm done trying to make any of you happy"

And saying that, you grabbed your father's gun, pressing it to your head and pushing his finger to pull the trigger.

Oh the regret on his face.

"I think he was proud" Hosea chuckled to you. "But he was too much of a coward to say it"

"Hopefully I got him to think about his actions" You just sighed, petting Plague and Biscuit. They got along

R.I.P Plague and Biscuit, poor babies. 🙏

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #john marston #reddeadredemption2 #micah bell #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x gn reader #gn reader #gn!reader

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hannibalzero · 2 months

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Loving Arthur

Charthur dabble

🦌🦬🦌🦬

Arthur was capable, Charles didn't have to worry much about his safety.

……most of the time.

Especially now that the gang has settled a bit, Hosea’s snake oil turned out to be very good whiskey.

True Dutch and Micha where still plotting something. But not having Arthur work the jobs for them and do all the leg work?

Those plans seemed to fizzle out like old cigarettes embers.

Arthur was strong, smart (despite what he would say) and was so damn quick with a gun.

Charles knew the love of his life would survive.

But the sight of Charles's beloved mate tanning the hide of a jaguar, hit a nerve.

Normally Charles wouldn't mind Arthur hunting big game, it was impressive. From a poor hunter to a master class one Arthurs skills had grown.

But Arthur was pregnant. Hardly a month or so, Kieran oddly had a skill when it came to babies? Like he knew Arthur was pregnant before Arthur did.

He had told Charles he was going fishing just down the way. Told Charles he would be safe and not to worry. Judging by the hanging corpse of a jaguar that's not what happened.

“Arthur.” Charles walked over to him, crossing his arms over his chest.

The outlaw jumped a bit holding the fleshing knife still. “Howdy Charles, how was ya-” Arthur's voice slowly died in his throat receiving a pointed look from his Alpha. “I…um…can explain?”

“I would love to hear it, how did you catch a jaguar while fishing?” Charles asked keeping his voice quiet and even.

Innocent until proven guilty and all that.

“I promise ya I was fishing, pretty bluegill just down the way. I was sitting down, drinking all that water ya asked me too and even ate.” he offered up. “I was packing my basket of fish to go, looked up and there it was. A whole jaguar!” Arthur shifted as told his story. “Started running for me, I was able to shoot it before it got too close.”

Charles looked at Arthur and slowly looked at the big cat. He covered his eyes and gave a low grown. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Naw, didn't even touch me.” Arthur rested his thumbs in his (much loser) gunbelt. “I'mma sorry, I didn't think-”

“It's fine Arthur. I'm glad you're okay, baby okay too?” Charles asked.

Arthur nodded slowly. “Yeah, had Mrs.Grimshaw check…baby is fine.”

“What am I going to do with you, crazy white boy? Strange things happen to you.” Charles pulled Arthur close and kissed him. “…..now…the pelt is beautiful…what are you planning on doing with it?” he asked resting his arm over Arthurs shoulder.

“Aw hell, i dont know. I'm still shocked you wanna be around me. Maybe keep me on a leash?” Arthur joked into the kiss. “Oh the pelt? I was thinking…i don't think I could use a stroller for the baby. I need to work and I ain't gonna dump our baby on people…was thinking of a backboard? Big enough for you and me to be able ta wear.”

Charles nodded thinking it over. “I get what you mean about strollers, I've only seen them in places with streets. Bulky and metal.” he looked at the pelt. “A backboard is a good idea, I'm not sure how to make one…”

“Figured next time we visit Eagle flys and Rainfalls we would ask?” Arthur suggested. “Being the best leather and hide we got?”

“I would like that.” Charles gave a nod. “But if you get attacked by another Jaguar, I think I'll die.”

“Oh no you ain't! Ya gotta stick around with me. Can't die until I do.”

Charles laughed loudly. “Love you too.”

#rdr2 #charthur #ficlet #dabble #tw mpreg #just cute #charles smith #arthur morgan #omegaverse

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scarfacemarston · 2 years

Text

Halloween with the Van Der Linde’s - Part Deux

This is part 2 of a Halloween post I did a while back. There are some lame memes of mine that reference part 1 but it’s of course not a necessity to read the first part. If you want to read it - here it is. Arthur - a pilot from Top Gun - he always thought it would be cool to fly and he loved the movie growing up. He thought about becoming a pilot himself as he loved freedom. However, he hated the idea of joining the air force and he didn’t want to be a commercial pilot.

Dutch and Molly - Molly *really* wants to do Bonnie and Clyde. Badly. So badly. Dutch thinks the idea is too basic. He thought about doing Elvis briefly. Finally, Dutch decided on King Henry VIII and Molly as a princess. Henry VIII was known for his romantic notions of courtly gentlemanly love and all things grand.......but is more famous for how his wives ended up and his politics. (No, that’s not commentary on Dutch but I suppose you could make an argument for some minor similarities). Molly’s dress is indeed based on the deleted Ball Gown dress.

Hosea- David Bowie 100%. He loved David Bowie for decades and since people have said he resembled David, he thought, why not?

John - Like every year, he didn’t want to dress up. He finally “forced himself” to choose a Yellowstone employee shirt....which then caused the family to goad him into adding pizass to his costume...which was a jacket and some spurs.

Abigail -Lara Croft, She watched the kids in one of her foster homes played Tomb Raider and she loved it. She always wanted to be like Lara. The only thing she changed was the shorts into longer pants.

”’My legs get cold, Gosh dang it!”

Sadie - She saw Pearson and Charles dress up like pirates last year and knew she could do a better job. You bet she’d be the most bad ass pirate queen you’ve ever seen....her epilogue outfit even looks like a pirate’s outfit.

Charles - A Jedi and he’s comfortable as hell. He was a comfy pirate last year and intends to be comfty again. He almost convinces Arthur to join him, especially since “Jedi fly ships”. Star Wars gave Charles a lot of comfort growing up and he stills enjoys it through the ups an downs. Then Uncle appears....

Uncle - is a Jedi, too doing bad Obi-Wan Kenobi impressions.......just to follow Charles around and annoy him.

Sean, Lenny and Javier - the three Spider-Men so they can do the Spider-Men pointing meme....just with three Spider-men! Lenny’s back up was Marty McFly, Sean’s back up was Elton John and Javier’s back up was Legolas. Yes, I FIRMLY believe Javier is a “nerd” in the best of ways.

Jack - wanted to be involved, but remembered he was spiderman last year and the year before that so now he’s decided he’s Batman. He was not allowed to watch the Robert Pattinson film, but he’s watched the Kevin Conroy original Batman the Animated Series and loved it.

Kieran - One of the classic Riddler styles, baby! He loves that Jack is Batman - the same version he grew up with. He tells lame riddles all night which annoys some of the gang members, but Jack has a ton of fun trying to figure them out.

Josiah Trelawny - lost a bet and did not get to pick his outfit. He was horrified until…….it was the ladies who picked it out. They picked out Dr. Stephen Strange.

Tilly, Karen and Mary-Beth - Charlie’s Angels. Mary-Beth wanted it last year and they didn’t do it so she INISTED this year. Note: I l literally do NOT know ANYTHING about Charlie’s Angels except that Farrah Fawcett was extremely famous because of it. If you know how to match characters to their personalities, go ahead!

Susan Grimshaw - Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland. It’s a fun costume with so many different interpretations so she gets to pick what pieces she wants.

Micah - the Joker Heath Ledger version because he likes doing the impressions. He is monitored around Jack. (Oops, didn’t know I had 3 batman characters on here. Sorry, but I think it works!)

Mr. Pearson - Bob’s Burger and people actually like it!

Reverend Swanson - Gandalf. He has a rivalry with the “Star Wars nerds”, but it’s all in good fun.

Leopold Strauss - doesn’t dress up. He thinks it’s a waste of time. Some of the less festive gang members agree with him. However, he does hand out items like pencils which....is useful at least?

Bill - Freddy Kruger - but does not wear the mask around Jack and his sister. He wants to be able to choose when he’s scary and when he’s not...besides, the Marstons and co would kick his ass. (Jack would probably think it’s cool, though.) (Doing a collage image because watch someone report me for posting a horror costume lol I know people who have been reported for less.)

Rufus - Jack and Abigail decide Rufus will use his good boyness for good and make up for John’s lack of celebration.

Amelia Marston - My name for Abigail and John’s daughter. Abigail and John want to raise a strong little lady so who better than a feminist icon like Rosie the Riveter? (To those who don’t know, Rosie the Riveter was a World War II propaganda figure who encouraged all women to work outside of the home for the war effort - usually in factories.

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downinthehull · 11 days

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gassssp you do RDR2 stuff?? Do you think you could do some headcanons with a regressor arthur (preferably a very young age range, 0-3 maybe) and cgs dutch and hosea please? Downright criminal the lack of rdr2 agere in general but especially of arthur as a regressor!! he has two papas right there!! tysm!!

you are so right about the lack of little arthur stuff!! let him not have to work so hard and just get taken care of by hosea and dutch!

here's a few hcs for you, friend! hope these are okay<3

small arthur (0-3) hcs;

loves baths

one of his favorite things when he's so small are baths!

he finds them so comforting, just being able to get clean and play with a toy or two while dutch or hosea washes his hair for him. plus, it's so much easier for him to fall asleep afterwards!

doesn't have many toys

he's very self conscious about regressing at first, so the thought of toys didn't do very much besides embarrass him initially.

it took some time (and hosea and dutch reassuring him that it was alright) before he even opened up to the idea of it. but once he did, dutch and hosea got him a couple small toys.

maybe a few little wooden figures or a small stuffed animal! dutch always wants to get him something new whenever they're in town, but arthur usually grumbles about it and insists that he doesn't need it.

isn't very energetic when small

when he's feeling this small, instead of running around all over camp, causing chaos, or being a rascal, arthur likes to do the complete opposite.

he much prefers laying around in the grass, by the edge of the water (if the camp is set up near some), or in his own (or dutch's) tent. he enjoys picking flowers, stacking rocks, staring up at the clouds, and really anything that doesn't involve too much moving around. and of course he loves to do it with dutch and hosea!

sometimes he even gets to sit down by the chickens and hang out with them for a bit, feeding them and petting their heads if they let him!

loves to listen to dutch and hosea's stories

whether it's time to go to bed or just time to take a nap, one of arthur's favorite things to do is listen to a story by one of his caregivers.

there are some that he asks that they tell again (funny things that had happened in the past, which hosea is usually better at recounting), and sometimes he just wants them to make one up!

dutch seems to be the better one at coming up with stories. he's made up soo many bedtime stories for arthur, arthur is amazed he hasn't run out yet!

#📬 mailbox #tiny arthur morgan #fandom agere #rdr2 agere #age regression #sfw #little hcs #little cowboys <3

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21witnokidz · 1 year

Text

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 11

“No but let’s talk about that lil act you put on back there at the jail. You been takin lessons from Jeffrey Stalen?”

“Yea maybe if I become a professional actor we would finally have enough money to help Dutch with whatever plans he has”

You and Arthur were hunting to find some food and so far you only caught a raccoon.

“Hey Arthur there goes a deer. Whoever kills it first has to skin it. Deal?”

“Yer on”

You took out your rifles and aimed. You hit it in its side but Arthur got its neck immediately killing it.

“Hunting rule number 1: Always aim for the neck or head” Arthur explained.

“I thought the first rule was to stay quiet and low so that they don’t notice you?”

“Less skinning and more talking”

You skinned the deer and stowed it on your horse, Cilly. You and Arthur decided it was a good idea to take its skin to armadillo and get it sold off before taking the meat back to camp.

When y’all got to armadillo you entered the general store and sold the skin for 12 dollars.

“That’s a fancy gun you got there. I’ll give you 200 dollars for it” the cashier offered.

“Nah this belonged to my daddy. I ain’t selling it for nothing”

“Ok fine. 500 dollars”

Arthur stepped up “Didn’t you hear her? She said she ain’t sellin it” he growled.

The cashier stopped bothering you and sent y’all on your way with your money. You figured you could buy some new shoes with your money since your old ones had holes in them. Having weak shoes was bad. Water could enter in easily or if they got injured it could lead to an infection. Especially with the lifestyle you lived.

When you were about to go to the clothing store you felt a little hand slip inside your pocket. You turned around quickly and found a little boy try to run off with your 12 dollars.

“You little shit get back here!”

You and Arthur chased the little boy but he was too fast. Arthur shot just near his feet, barely missing them. The boy got startled and fell to the ground. You caught up to him and grabbed him by the collar.

“Damn brat where’s your mother?”

“I ain’t got one lady just turn me a loose!”

“No wonder you’re out here like this! Look at you. You’re face is all dirty and you smell like you ain’t bathed in days”

“I just needed some shoes”

“Hell you’d be better off using that money for a bath”

You hesitated for a bit before letting him go. But before he could run off again you grabbed him by the ear.

“Come on. You probably wouldn’t know what shoes to buy even if you did use my money”

“Hold on you gonna use your money to buy him shoes? You need some yourself don’t you?” Arthur said confused.

“This is just a little kid, he needs it more than me. What even is your name boy?”

“John Marston” the boy spoke up.

“Well John I think it’s time you learn some manners. You could’ve just asked me for the money instead of tryna steal it”

“How could I trust you? All the women at the orphanage were cruel. How do I know you’re not?”

“Because I don’t work at a damn orphanage!”

You dragged the boy named John into the clothing store and bought him some brand new shoes that fit him. When he tried them on, his dirty face lightened up a little.

“Now what do you say?”

“Thank you ma’am”

“Alright let’s go already people are waiting on us” Arthur said getting impatient.

“Alright. Stay outta trouble ya hear?”

You turned back and headed outside for your horses. When you approached the hitching area you felt a little hand tug at your clothes. It was John again.

“You uhh.. you got a place?”

“Yea but it ain’t for you so scram” Arthur said shooing him.

“Oh come on Arthur. I’m sure Hosea wouldn’t mind bringing another kid”

“Yea but Dutch would. Hell we got enough people to feed as is”

“I ain’t gonna cause no trouble. I’ll help out”

“What can you do?”

“You can just teach me whatever. Like how to use a gun and ride a horse. I’ve always wanted to be a gunslinger”

“This life ain’t easy kid. Go back to yer orphanage and stay there”

“What makes you think life at the orphanage was any easier? I don’t care what I gotta do just let me be in your gang”

Arthur sighed and held out his hand for John to grab onto and helped him onto his horse.

“Well kid one things for sure. I’m gonna have to teach you how to pickpocket better. If you go around using that technique you tried to use with me you’ll surely run into a much meaner person” you explained to the young boy.

You and Arthur rode back to camp with your game and John on the back. When you got off you presented your contributions.

“Well everyone we got deer, raccoon, and a little pickpocketing brat we can cook too” Arthur explained. John looked stunned. “Oh didn’t we tell ya? We’re a group of cannibals” John screamed trying to run away but Arthur caught him too fast.

Annabelle stepped out of her tent. “Well what do we have here? Who’s this little boy?”

“His name is John Marston and Arthur thought it was a good idea to try and scare him by making him think we’re cannibals”

“Now why would you go and do that? Arthur let him go” Arthur let him go and John backed away from him. “It’s ok John, Arthur here was just tryna spook ya. I swear we’re good people. You must be an orphan huh?” Annabelle tried to calm him.

“Yes” John answered still a little spooked.

“My name is Annabelle and this is Bessie. I see you already met Arthur and y/n.”

“Yes. She bought me a new pair of shoes”

“See? What cannibal would do that? You come here and we’ll get you washed up and something to eat”

“No! I ain’t taking a bath!”

“See Annabelle we can’t keep him here! He’ll give us tuberculosis or something” Arthur exclaimed.

“Oh hush up. I heard you was the same way when you joined the gang so I don’t wanna hear it!”

You snickered to yourself and it shut Arthur up.

Annabelle lead John to the table and Bessie got him something to eat.

John met the rest of the gang and settled in quickly. Dutch suggested he sleep with you and Arthur until he got his own tent.

“Ok John here are the rules. This bedroll is only big enough for two people so you’re just gonna have to squeeze yourself in there. We used to have a cot but it got lost in a fire. I’m not pointing any fingers but just know that it was caused by a certain cowboy with brown hair and blue eyes. With a black hat with a string tied around it to be more specific” you said glaring directly at Arthur. He just flipped you off.

You all squeezed yourself into the bedroll and layed there uncomfortably. It was John on the left, Arthur on the right, and you in the middle

“Stop hogging all the sheets you guys” John said.

“You’re just a kid you’ll be alright” Arthur objected.

“But you got more meat on you. You can heat yourself up better”

“Too bad. You’re the one who wanted to come with us so stop complaining”

….

“Oh my god who farted?!”

“Wasn’t me” John and Arthur said simultaneously.

“Well it was one of you”

“Maybe it was you and you were just tryna cover it up” John said

“I don’t care who did it just fess up”

“If you don’t care who did it why don’t you just leave the tent and sleep outside? You’re the only one complaining”

“Because I don’t wanna sleep out there it’s cold as hell”

“God it smells like beans”

“Did you eat beans today John?”

“No… y/n?”

“What?”

“Arthur has been really quiet”

“So you were just gonna sit there and say nothing?”

“I thought you and John were gonna fight about it until one of you left the tent and the problem would be fixed” Arthur shrugged his shoulders.

“Well this his how we fix the problem” you pushed Arthur out.

“You think I’m just gonna sleep out here in the late autumn? You can’t do me like this y/n”

“Make a fire or something. Remember when I first joined and I had to sleep in your tent while you slept outside with no complaints?”

“That was a long ass time ago. Besides I’m more civilized now”

You just zipped the tent back up as aggressively as you could to resemble a door shutting in his face.

“Y/n! Y/n! Please it’s cold and dark out here! Oh fuck this I’m just gonna sleep in the wagon”

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

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12timetraveler · 1 year

Text

The Capture and The Homecoming

Red Dead Short Sprint

Summary: After Jack's disappearance, the gang is desperate to find him, Hosea maybe more than anyone (besides Abigail and John). He loves Jack like a grandson, and it was, after all, Hosea who was working with the Braithwaites in the first place.

This piece can be read in its entirety below or on AO3

When the group returned to camp looking rather defeated, you knew Jack wasn’t with them. You immediately ran up to Hosea, cupping his cheeks in your hands. He gave you a sorry-looking smile in greeting.

“He wasn’t there,” He sighed.

Not far away, Abigail was screaming in anguish as John and Dutch gave her the same news. You weren’t sure if she was going to strike them, break down crying, or ride out and go find him herself. She didn’t seem quite sure what she was going to do either. Mary Beth and Tilly gently guided her away as she started weeping.

“Where is he? Do you know?” You asked gently, scrubbing your fingers through Hosea’s hair soothingly. He looked exhausted.

“That Braithwaite witch said Saint Denis. That or Italy,”

“Those are... two very different things,” You scoffed.

“Yes. But we have a name, at least. Angelo Bronte,”

“Who?” You asked, brow furrowed.

“No idea,” Hosea sighed. “I expect we’ll find out soon enough,”

“Think you can lay down for a little bit?” You asked gently. Hosea shook his head. You’d figured as much. The sun would be rising in the next hour or so anyway. “I’ll go brew some fresh coffee, then,” you said. Hosea smiled half-heartedly and kissed your cheek.

“Thank you, dove,” He purred.

~~~~~~~~

The search for Jack had to be put on hold when a pair of Pinkerton agents sauntered into camp. As if you didn’t have enough on your plate. So now you had to move on top of it all.

Arthur knew of a place. He and John went ahead to clear it out while the rest of you started packing up. John returned about twenty minutes later, and soon you were all riding out.

Hosea was quiet the whole ride, clearly lost in thought. You couldn’t blame him. Jack was... well, he may have called Hosea “uncle” but really Jack was more of a grandson to him. He saw both Abigail and John as his adopted children, of sorts. When Jack was born Hosea had been over the moon, doting on the little boy in ways only a grandfather would.

You knew he was worried. What might be happening to that little boy? What sort of person had him now? Was he being beaten? Molested? Used in unthinkable ways? The rabbit hole was endless.

You could also see how Hosea was blaming himself. He was the one who’d been working the Braithwaites. He’d drank with Catherine, played cribbage with her. He was the one who’d be involved with that side of the feud. You could see how he blamed himself.

Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot you could say or do just now, while you were riding to a new home. You weren’t sure there would be a lot you could say even if you had him alone. It was a horrible situation, and you knew Abigail would never blame him. But that wouldn’t stop Hosea from blaming himself.

He wasn’t the only one. John could hardly look Hosea in the eye. While Abigail seemed to be blaming Dutch, John was cold toward both of them. This yankee gold that seemed not to exist had cost them far more than they ever could have gained.

As you rode into Shady Belle, the mood was somber. Arthur tried to lighten it all up with a dramatic “Welcome home” speech. Dutch seemed to find it amusing. But no one else was really laughing. Dutch and Arthur rode out soon after, headed into Saint Denis to try and find word on Bronte, and the rest of you were left to set up camp.

You and Hosea helped Mr. Pearson unload the chuck wagon, knowing supper would need to be made soon. Once he had things under control, you began to help set up the lean-to tents around the main fire, making sure the strongmen of the gang had somewhere to rest. They may be needed again soon.

“Mr and Mrs. Matthews,” Susan said, walking up just as you finished setting up the second tent. “I’ve got a room for you,”

“A room for us?” Hosea chuckled as the two of you followed her into the house “We certainly are moving up in the world,”

“Well... you’ll see,” She said, leading you through the front door.

“Room” was maybe being generous. It was more of a broom closet under the stairs than a bedroom. But it had four walls (mostly) and a roof, which was more than you normally got. A number of crates had been scooted together with a large bear pelt spread over it. Your bedrolls were spread out on top of the pelt to create a bed for the two of you.

“Good thing we don’t mind sleeping close together,” Hosea chuckled.

“I figured you two would like that, the way you latch on to each other,” She teased.

“Thank you, Susan,” You said, giving her a small smile.

“Of course.” She waved you off, turning on her heel to go and see to whatever she needed to worry about next.

“We’re really living like royalty,” You teased, sitting down on the bed. “Must be the close proximity to the big city. Even poor vagrants like us can live like kings,”

Hosea tried to give you a smile, but you could see he was struggling. You stood and rubbed his arms soothingly. He leaned into your touches, clearly exhausted and seeking some comfort. You held him close.

“They’ll find him,” you murmured. “It’s Dutch and Arthur. They’ll have him home in no time,”

“Perhaps, but in the meantime...” Hosea sighed.

“Don’t go down that road,” You murmured, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. “For now we just need to find him. We can worry about the rest later,”

~~~~~~~~~

That night everything was quiet. No one was really talking, no one was singing or bantering.

Micah tried to start something a few times. But once enough guns were raised to him, he slunk off, grumbling about how no one could take a joke. He rode off eventually.

Abigail was a mess. She was trying her best to keep a brave face. But more often than not you found her sobbing into her hands. You and the other girls switched off keeping her company, trying to keep her distracted. But what could you say in this situation? It would all sound hollow.

You were gently rubbing her back, doing your best to comfort her through another sobbing fit. You knew it was useless, but maybe she at least didn’t have to feel alone. At least she knew someone was with her.

Hosea was sitting a ways away around the main fire, just staring into the flames. Occasionally you saw his eyes flick over to you and Abigail before looking back at the fire. Finally he stood up abruptly and strode off, pushing past Bill as he walked across the yard and rounded the house, out of sight.

You knew he needed you. You glanced around and quickly met Tilly’s gaze. She nodded and came to take your place next to Abigail so you could follow after your husband and make sure he was okay.

It took a few minutes to find him. He’d walked behind the little barn behind the house and stood under the large tree next to it, puffing furiously on a fresh cigarette. Even without a lanturn, you could see tears brimming, shining in the moonlight.

“Hosea,” You whispered.

“It’s my fault,” He whispered, not meeting your gaze. Your heart broke.

“No it's...”

“Don’t try to deny it,” He let out a shuddering breath, followed by a small coughing fit. He stomped out his cigarette. “If I hadn’t been playing the Braithwaites like that, they’d never have taken him,”

“Oh Hosea,” You sighed, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around his middle. He didn’t move, neither denying nor accepting your hug. He just stood there. “You couldn’t have known,” You said. “The Braithwaites were monsters. Who takes a little boy from his family like that? I don’t even think Colm O’Driscoll would sink so low. You thought you were doing what was best. For all of us. We need money, and it was a good lead to follow. None of us ever anticipated that Catherine Braithwaite would be so horrid.”

“But did we get any money from it? No. Just got Sean killed and Jack kidnapped,” Hosea grumbled. “All because of my stupid plan. Jack’s gone. Who knows what’s happening to the poor boy. He could be with any sort of monster. Starved, beaten, even worse, he may be with some horrible perverted soul who--”

“Don’t, Hosea,” You cut him off, cupping his face in your hand. He seemed to snap out of his self-loathing trance, looking down at you and meeting your gaze. “Don’t think of such things. Don’t put that out into the world. We don’t know where Jack is, but we... we have to hope that he's alright. That Arthur, Dutch and John will bring him home safe,”

Hosea’s hazel eyes flicked across your face, taking in your expression. You watched his face slowly crumple in anguish, and the tears he’d been holding back began falling down his face like rivers.

You cupped the back of his head and pulled him down so he could cry into your shoulder. His arms gripped your waist desperately as he muffled his tears in your shoulder. You could only scratch his head and rub his back, doing your best to soothe him. Though there really wasn’t much you could say or do to help.

You could feel your shoulder dampening with his tears, but you just continued to hold him. You could feel your own tears falling. You missed Jack horribly. And you were so worried for him. Your heart also ached for your friends, your loved ones. Poor Abigail. Poor John.

Poor Hosea.

Everyone was feeling Jack's loss, but those three were feeling it the worst. You tilted your head back, looking up at the stars and begging any divine purpose or deity out there to bring that boy home safe.

"I'm so scared," Hosea murmured, regaining enough composure to talk once more. "I'm scared that he's gone for good. Not just him physically but... But if we do find him, what sort of state might he be in? Torn from his mother, his family, held by whatever kind of demons would hold a child hostage. Even if we find him and get him back, the Jack we know may be gone."

"I know," you whispered, keeping your firm grip on Hosea. "I know. But like I said, for now we should just focus on getting him back safe and sound. We can worry about the rest later."

Hosea pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. You cupped his face in your hands.

"And if we have to burn Saint Denis to the ground after he's back, just like the manor, then we will," you vowed. If a single hair on that boy's head had been harmed, here would surely be hell to pay.

Hosea knocked his forehead against yours and you both closed your eyes, taking a moment to breathe and hold onto each other, letting your tears fall and intermingle on the dirt below.

“Abigail!” You heard Dutch’s voice from the entrance to camp. You both looked back toward the house. “Abigail, we got you your son! Everythings...”

“We got him!” John hollered.

“Mama!” A blessedly familiar little voice cheered.

“They got him,” You breathed in relief.

“He’s safe,” Hosea sighed. You looked up at him and gently wiped the moisture from his cheeks. He gave you a grateful smile, misty eyes watching you tenderly. He turned and pressed a quick kiss to your palm. But you could see him practically vibrating with excitement, desperate to go and see for himself.

“Come on,” you chuckled, releasing him from your grasp. “Let’s go welcome him home,”

Hosea took your hand and the two of you jogged around the side of the house. Abigail was guiding the boy across the little bridge into camp, giving John a meaningful look. She looked up as the two of you rushed over.

“I got my son back!” she exclaimed.

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Hosea cheered, hardly able to contain himself at the sight of his grandson. “How are you, boy?” he asked, crouching down beside him. You could see him giving the boy a once over, making sure he had no injuries. But he looked... well. He was dressed in a very nice outfit, cleaner than you’d seen him in a long time, and grinning from ear to ear. Not a mark on him.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Jack said, as if it was just another day.

“Everything’s okay now,” Hosea sighed, giving the boy a quick hug. You could see he was torn between sticking by Jack the rest of the night, and going to ask what in the world had happened. Finally he seemed to make his decision. “Abigail,” He said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before standing with a loud sigh and walking to meet the rescue party.

“Aunty!” Jack said happily, reaching out for you.

“Hey there, Jack,” You grinned, hugging the boy tightly against your skirts. “Get up to anything fun while you were away?” You asked casually.

“I ate spaghetti,” He said excitedly. “It’s Italian food,”

“Really?” You said, “Well you’ll have to tell me all about it later. For now, I think there's a whole line of folk who wanna see you,” You gestured to the group that was forming, all ready to greet their favorite gang member.

Jack was soaking up the attention, not sure why everyone was so excited to see him, but loving every minute of it. Abigail led him toward the fire, and you glanced over to where your husband was chatting with the Old Guard.

“We got Jack back!” Dutch cheered, guiding Hosea back toward camp. The two had their heads together, quietly talking about something. Hosea reached out for you as they crossed into camp, and you took his hand, allowing him to tuck you against his side.

“...the man seems to own all of Saint Denis. Whole population is terrified of him,” Dutch was explaining.

“Really. But he’s not a politician?” Hosea hummed.

“No. Just very wealthy and VERY powerful,” Dutch said.

“And he just gifted Jack back to you?” You asked.

“No. We had to do him a favor, but John and Arthur handled it easy enough.” Dutch said, slapping Hosea on the back. “I’ll tell you both about it tomorrow. For the night, lets just enjoy ourselves,”

You parted from Hosea to make a quick detour over to Pearson’s table, grabbing three bottles from the crate of whiskey. You moved over to the campfire, offering one to Dutch, who took it with a nod. You then offered bottles to Arthur and John, your way of thanking the rescue party. Arthur took one with a smile, raising the bottle to you in thanks. John almost took it, but paused, glancing over at Jack and Abigail and, thinking better of it, declined with a shake of his head. You gave him a smile and moved to stand beside Hosea.

Hosea wrapped his arm around you and kissed your forehead, taking the bottle you still had and opening it. He took a swig before handing it back to you. You drank some of the whiskey, the woodsy burn warming your core as it slid down your throat.

Standing side-by-side, you and Hosea watched the celebration, cheering occasionally and sharing your bottle as the gang sang along to Javier’s song. You could feel the tension washing away from Hosea as the moments went on, his back relaxing against your hand more and more.

You couldn’t help but peek a look over at your husband over and over again throughout the song. He was so happy, having the time of his life cheering along. He was just happy Jack was back.

As the song ended, the world felt at peace, at least for the moment.

Abigail guided Jack away from the fire to get some food before bed, and the party dispersed across camp, everyone settling into their own way of celebrating. A slight heaviness hung in the air that reminded everyone of the last party you all had, for your comrade now gone. But people were trying their best to ignore it and just be happy.

Well, mostly. Karen was already far too drunk to have only started drinking when the party began. Molly started shouting at Dutch about how he ruined her life, their screeching drowning out the pleasant songs and conversation nearby.

You mostly watched the party from the sidelines, nursing the rest of your bottle of whiskey and just monitoring everyone as they got drunk. You stepped away for a moment only to bring a plate of stew to Charles, who, as usual, had opted to skip the festivities in order to guard camp. He gave you a grateful smile and ate quickly so you could take the plate back and rejoin the party.

When you returned, Hosea was sitting around the fire with a couple others, regaling them with the tale of how he was nearly hanged as a boy for stealing a chicken. He, Uncle and Bill were laughing hysterically at the story as you approached, settling your hand on your husband's shoulder.

"Hullo, dove," Hosea chirped, smiling up at you. You leaned down and planted a kiss on the crown of his head before moving closer so you could whisper in his ear without being heard by the others.

"You should come to bed, love," you cooed. "You haven't slept in two days,"

Hosea met your gaze with a soft smile, and he nodded.

"You're right," he agreed. Giving you a quick kiss before standing to follow you.

"Oh come on, Hosea," Bill groaned.

"Don't let the missus spoil all the fun," Uncle laughed. "You don't have to trail after her like a puppy dog every time she calls," Uncle gave you a friendly wink to let him know he was only teasing.

Hosea slipped his arms around your waist, resting his hands on your stomach and his chin on your shoulder. "If either of you are ever lucky enough to find someone to love like this, believe me you'll understand how important it is to come when they call," you didn't see it, but you knew Hosea was giving them a sly wink. Uncle whistled and Bill laughed, both of them clearly assuming that you were calling him to bed for some love making. Let them believe that if they would. You didn't mind.

"Good night, Gentlemen," you laughed. Hosea reluctantly released you and slid one hand down to your hip, keeping you tucked against his side as you walked across camp and through the front doors of the manor house.

Inside it was quiet. A few folks gathered for some peace inside the house, leaving the rowdy partiers outside. You could hear Abigail talking to Jack upstairs. John occasionally piped up as well. It made you smile. As awful as this all had been, perhaps this was the kick in the ass John needed toward being a good father.

You led Hosea to your little bedroom, shutting the door behind you firmly.

Hosea sighed and allowed you to guide him to lay down on the bedroll. You dutifully removed his boots, setting them at the foot of the bed before kicking off your own shoes and laying down beside him. Hosea wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, the two of you tangling your limbs together until you were as close as could be, intertwined with one another.

"I'm glad he's home safe," Hosea murmured.

"Me too," you sighed. "And he seems..."

"He seems completely fine," Hosea agreed. "I'll sit down and chat with him, make sure he's really as okay as he looks. But..."

"But that can wait for tomorrow," you purred, scratching Hosea's scalp lightly. He hummed and nuzzled against your neck.

"Yes. Tomorrow," he agreed.

It was silent for a moment, and you thought Hosea was drifting off to sleep, finally, but then he spoke up again.

"Poor Sean," he whispered.

With all that had happened, neither of you had much time to grieve Sean. But you knew Hosea had a soft spot for the loud Irishman. So did you. So did everyone. Sean was such a bright member of the gang. It was hard to imagine he was gone.

"I'll ask Bill where he buried him. And we can go and visit him. But, tomorrow," you said firmly. Hosea chuckled and looked up at you.

"Tomorrow," he agreed, kissing your jaw. "Thank you, dove. You take care of me so well,"

"Someone has to. You certainly don't look after yourself," you huffed with fake annoyance. "Now. Sleep,"

"Yes dear," Hosea sighed with a tired smile, burying his face against you once more.

Finally he drifted off, and within ten minutes he was snoring against you. Now content that your beloved was finally getting the rest that he needed, you allowed yourself to drift off after him.

Jack was safe. The rest could wait. Right now the two of you desperately needed some sleep.

#short sprint #rdr2 fanfic #hosea matthews #Jack Marston #Hosea/reader

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unusual-raccoon · 2 years

Text

Afterparty, Chapter 2 by Unusual_Raccoon

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Karen Jones/Arthur Morgan

Additional Tags: Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook, Explicit Sexual Content, Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Breast Worship, Dry Humping, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Female Ejaculation, Dirty Talk, Banter, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, Infidelities, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 2k+

Ao3 Link

Summary: In the aftermath of Sean’s welcome home party, Arthur is nowhere to be found and Karen can’t stand it.

A/N: the overall positive reception to this made me want to continue it. I’ve got at least one more chapter planned.

As usual, don’t mind any mistakes. Still don’t own any characters, just the ideas 💞.

6 days, that was how long Arthur had been gone. In the aftermath of the celebration commemorating Sean’s return, the big sulky bastard vanished. The first few days passed as they usually would when Arthur was out robbing and finding them money in the most unsavory of places.

He’d left a big stack of bills and a string of wedding rings that Karen found best to never think on too hard, in the donation box before he’d gone, wrote it all down in the ledger.

The first three days Dutch kept placating Hosea, kept the old man calm and soothed free of worry. The following three however, Hosea was inconsolable.

Karen was sure the old man woulda ridden out himself had his lungs not been getting’ the better of him as of late. Despite it all, Hosea still seemed determined to saddle up and head out. It was young Lenny who expressed concern while Dutch puffed away on a cigar by his tent.

The list of able bodied folk were growin’ slimmer. Abigail practically tied Marston down to keep him from doin’ too much and reopening them gashes on his face, Bill and Micah couldn’t be trusted to do anything other than start shit Arthur usually had to finish, Javier was out robbin’, and Charles out hunting, Lenny was on guard duty, which left-

“Sean, will you ride out and look for Arthur?” Hosea asked in that smooth way of his. Weren’t no secret that the old man weren’t fond of Sean, damn near gunned him down when he caught Sean snoozing on guard duty that night Arthur had gone. Karen figured it was ‘cause he held everyone up to Arthur’s standard…and she started to wonder when she began doin’ the same. Weren’t many men that could stomach robbing and killing and protecting folk, and ask for seconds like Arthur could.

“Now?” Sean replied, sitting by the scout fire with Karen. Nevermind that she was shirking wash duties with Mary-Beth and Tilly.

“No, next year - yes, now. ” Hosea snapped.

“Dat big sourpuss is probably fine, fuckin’ a barmaid somewhere he is,” Sean teased with that big smile of his. His humor was one of the things Karen loved about Sean, but it was clear it was doin’ him no favors now.

Hosea waved an unimpressed hand at Sean before stalking off in the direction of the horses.

If Arthur came back and found out somethin’ happened to the old man, there’d be hell to pay.

“I’ll go,” Karen called, stopping Hosea firm in his tracks. His expression softened, always so firm with the men, so tender with the women.

“Ah, Miss Karen,” he exhaled, taking one of her hands in his, giving her a gentle, appreciative squeeze, “couldn’t ask ya to do that.”

“You done asked all the men we got left and they’re useless,” She added and Hosea shot another withering look at Sean.

“C’mon, won’t be more than a couple days and I’ll drag that brute back by his ear if hafta,” Karen added. He let out sigh.

“It’d make me feel better if ya took one of the fellers,” Hosea reasoned and if Arthur were in the camp he’d be her first pick. Sean should’ve been her next pick, obvious reasons and all, but she waved it off. Weren’t entirely sure what she’d do when she found Arthur.

“I’ll be fine.” She swore, giving his hands a squeeze back. “Besides if anything goes belly up, I’ll start hollering and Arthur’d probably hear it from the next county over and start cracking skulls in no time.”

Hosea let out a small laugh, eyes sullen. For all Dutch’s talk of them boys he raised bein’ his sons, it were Hosea who loved them like a father should, Arthur most of all.

“You’re probably right, but just be careful, I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to either of ya. Gettin’ to old to lose anymore folk.”

Karen gave a nod, and wrapped the old man in what she hoped was a comforting hug.

He helped her pack her saddlebags, saw fit she carried at least two guns before seeing her and Old Belle off.

Her first stop was simple, Valentine. She checked the saloons and hotel and came up empty handed; so, she relented to dropping a note with the mail clerk for a Mister Kilgore.

Made a habit of leaving a note in every town she passed through. Checked every saloon and every spare room as she traveled further east. Even made it to a big city, all industrial, and seein’ as most men still had teeth to smile with and most had women pearls to clutch, it was a pretty obvious sign that big outlaw a’hers ain’t passed through

She bought a spare room, splurged with the little monies she’d taken with her, had Old Belle fed and watered while she was at it.

Karen found living rough, on the move, like the men tended to, suited her just fine. Left a little crick in her neck and a soreness in her thighs from sitting in the saddle after weeks of milling around camp, but it was a pleasant sort of ache.

Old Belle seemed to appreciate the break from getting round eating hay and doin’ nothing. Little racehorse still had some giddyup after all them years together.

She was content to tear down the countryside and step on snakes in the process.

There was a mining town further northeast, Annesburg or some such, would be her last stop before heading back home. But it was dark and there was a trading post in between her and her destination. Place looked rancid, but she’d sleep with her gun and ride early if that’s what it took.

She was coming down the dirt path, eyeing the Hotel, hands shaking from the lack of booze. She eyed the saloon, the faded lettering that spelled out ‘Old Light Saloon’.

Maybe she could use a drink first…

That was when she’d struck gold, or lead more like. Hitched outside the saloon was a horse she wouldn’t soon forget. A silver dapple pinto, belonging to one mean outlaw. Lead Storm, a fitting name for a mare of her color, with a hot-blooded temperament to match. Leave it to Arthur to find a horse full of just as much fury as he was.

Karen pulled Old Belle up alongside Storm, the two were acquainted, Arthur tended to leave his horse unsaddled and with the small gathering of spare steeds when back at camp.

She split an apple with her knife for the pair of them, each getting half to crunch on before she headed inside.

She bought a whiskey at the bar, downing the shot in one swallow, felt the burn of alcohol in her belly even her out.

Didn’t find him by the bar or at any of the tables enjoying whatever sorry excuse for food the place had to offer. There was a feller fucking a girl on a rickety table in the back corner, but he weren’t the right size in any of the right places to be Arthur.

There was some commotion, fellers playing cards to her left.

Sitting at the end of the table, beard trimmed since she’d last seen him, was Arthur Morgan.

He was leaning back in a chair, a half eaten plate of food sitting on the tattered felt of the table beside him. A tall pile of chips wagered on the cards before him. The blackjack dealer laid out a second card.

“Seventeen,” He exclaimed, long fingers with unkempt nails poised on the deck of cards.

Karen thought he should just stand, but far be it for Arthur Morgan to ever know when to quit.

“Double down,” he grunted, cigarette pinched between his lips as he thrust over the rest of his chips. Had to be somethin’ near ten dollars in chips stacked on the table before him alone.

He was gonna bust out, at least that was what she figured.

The dealer plucked up a card from the deck, slowly turning it over onto the faded felt.

“Well, I’ll be, that’s Blackjack!”

Arthur looked unenthused, there was that clever glint in his eyes as the dealer pushed a hefty amount of chips his way. Other men at the table grumbled all sore about his fine luck.

“Looks like your luck’s run out, old man,” Karen exhaled, standing beside him by the table. He didn’t bother looking up until she swiped his tumbler of whiskey, downing the contents of the glass in a smooth motion. She set the glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary.

Arthur drew his head back, stubbing out his cigarette blindly in the dregs of whiskey that clung to the bottom of the glass.

“Miss Karen,” He drawled, mouth smelling of fine tobacco and cheap whiskey.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Arthur asked, voice gravelly.

“Takin’ you home.” She said matter-of-factly.

“That so?” He asked in amusement, the kind that reached the blue of his eyes.

Karen was ready to challenge him further, like she always was, when a man at the end of the table piped up.

“‘F you ain’t here to fetch us somethin’ to eat, get lost, girlie.”

The man was older, haggard, sparse in the teeth and rather weasley in the face.

Karen watched Arthur stiffen in his seat, eyes a dangerous shade of blue, the color of the sky when a storm rolled in.

She could see his hand gliding towards the ebony grip jutting from his holster.

“Mind the way you speak to the lady, partner,” Arthur cautioned in a low voice that sounded closer to a growl.

The man waved the warning away and Arthur looked about ready to draw. She caught his wrist, her hand fitting over his, feeling thick scarred knuckles.

“Let’s go home,” Karen said more firmly, a long hard ride back to Horseshoe Overlook would serve well to cool him down some; that is if they made it out of the saloon without putting a hole in someone.

He cashed in his chips sourly, holding a thick wad of bills pinched together with a money clip.

They made it all of two steps before the same feller spoke up again.

“Go on, listen to your bitch,” the man said with a cackle, tossing a few chips on the table.

Karen let out a defeated sigh, “just don’t kill ‘em?” Arthur handed her the wad of bills he’d earned from the game. Risen up to his full, imposing size, he grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck without warning. One large hand bashing his head into the table, chips jumping and cards growing wet with blood after each successive connection with the table.

His face was swollen, nose mangled, mouth oozing a long sticky trail of red.

Arthur’s cruel grip migrated from the scruff of the man’s neck to the thin hair atop his head, keeping his head up even as it seemed inclined to slump.

“Now, thank her - that bitch is the reason you’re still breathin’.”

A single eye shuttered in a slow, agonized blink. A wet, nasally breath and a dislodged tooth spilled out of his open mouth on a tide of blood.

“Thank ya,” his tongue sounded hard to coax, but he somehow formed the words regardless. Arthur cast Karen a long look, as if trying to judge her satisfaction, breathing a little hard before dropping the man back onto the table, inconsiderate of the pulpy mess he’d made of his face.

They caught a few wayward stares on their way out, Karen didn’t repent beneath any one of ‘em. Arthur kept a hand on her shoulder while they headed out. They emerged to the drab scent of low tide around the town. There was a corpse sitting outside of the saloon, a family of mangy brown rats were feasting on the dead body.

She wanted to get the hell out of town as soon as possible.

They mounted up quick, Arthur sat tall in the saddle, powerful thighs flexing, one hand on the reins, the other wayward, lingering by his hip. They pushed up, riding up the slope leading into town, both horses eating up the dirt with long strides.

They passed the lighthouse on the way outta town, no scorned townsfolk on their tail, but Arthur’s paranoia were hard to soothe.

The water sitting beside the town looked inky in the darkness of night.

“Why didn’t you want me to kill that feller?” Arthur asked, striking a match on the coarse denim of his trousers before lighting a fresh cigarette.

Karen shook her head, keeping her grip tight on Belle’s reins.

“I dunno, Arthur,” She huffed back, “Figure Hosea wouldn’t’a been too happy if we made a mess.”

“Hosea? He sent ya?” He asked, brow creased beneath the brim of his hat.

“‘Course, he’s worried about you, ya fool,” she answered breezily, “why else you think I came all this way?”

What other reason could she possibly have for spending days in the saddle chasing down this big brute alone…

His expression turned unreadable beneath the brim of his dark hat. The look in his eyes was severe; it reminded her of a night she tried not to think on - that night. She pushed the warmth in her chest down, tried to ignore it, ‘course she ended up pushing the feeling promptly between her thighs. He gave a noncommittal sniff, taking a long drag on the cigarette, a long stem of ash hanging off the end was soon whisked away by the breeze. Smoke blew through his nostrils like one of the dragons in little Jack’s storybooks.

She lost his gaze when he turned his head to firmly face forward.

Karen urged Old Belle to keep pace with Arthur’s younger mare, as he rode like he was the only feller on the road.

Even at their breakneck pace, she wouldn’t have bet money on them gettin’ home in the same night. Especially not with thick storm clouds overhead, a smattering of rain beginning to fall, a mere foretelling what awaited them.

A little while longer and the dirt roads grew slick and muddy. Belle and Storm, racehorses of fine stock, struggled to keep their agile footing on the ground.

“Arthur,” Karen called over the wash of rain, “We should stop.”

He tilted his head back, rain pelting his face. Droplets clumped on his full eyelashes, he looked damn indecent.

“Yeah,” He grunted back, casting his gaze around for any shelter from the thickening storm.

Where his horse pulled, hers followed.

It looked like they wouldn’t be free of each other so soon.

#my fanfiction #my writing #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #karen jones #arthur morgan x karen jones

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