#john marston angst

[cowboyfromh3ll]

a little bit of John's fear of commitment for the angsty girls in the back

Me And My Husband

(John Marston x Fem!Reader Angst/Fluff)

Warnings: Angsty, John's usual fear of commitment, arguing

For the earlier half of your and John’s relationship, the two of you liked to keep things under wraps. You kept your relations hidden under a veil of privacy; though there were still many wordy ruminations of ardor in private. You’d produce the occasional poem, which you’d give to him to read after sex. The two of you thought it to be a rather juvenile gesture, but sweet nonetheless. And if read by anyone outside of the two of you, it would be obvious you were smitten with him. You frequently told him you loved him, a behavior he often encouraged by a response of reciprocation. There were many spontaneous dates, many passionate exchanges, many nights where you lay together in his tent and many contemplations of your future together.

Overtime he claimed he didn’t want to use the word ‘love’ anymore; that you should be able to feel it by now, and that repeating it over and over to each other was unnecessary. This often became a point of contention between the two of you. Arguments would ensue where you often argued that no matter how childish he thought it was, it’s still a nice thing to say to one another, and that it offered you a sense of reassurance. And reassurance was the one thing you needed right now. The ache in your chest would be temporarily remedied by gratifying sex, which would momentarily allow you to push away your worries to the back of your mind.

You composed less poems than you had before; John’s hastiness in reading them suggested he wasn’t interested in them. There were often nights where you’d hand him one and he’d stash it somewhere, not caring to look exactly where, and insist he read it after he wakes up. But when you asked him if he liked it the next day, only to be given a confused stare and told “what poem?”, you knew he hadn’t read it. 

“You want to get married right?” You’d ask, laying your head on his chest while the rest of you laid on the grassy pasture beneath the two of you. You’d feel the vibrations in his chest as he hummed in confusion.

“We’re already married.” He produced a tired response, a yawn slipping past his lips. It was early afternoon, was he really tired? Or was this conversation just such a fatigued topic that he was no longer interested in having it. In fact, his response would’ve initially given you the satisfaction you needed to leave it alone, but as you begun to dig for specifics, you noticed how he began to skimp out on details, dodging and avoiding certain aspects as if you were a Pinkerton trying to interrogate him for answers on a recent crime. You didn’t appreciate his attitude towards the topic, but at least pushing it would rile him up to the point of receiving some sort of genuine answer; be it good or bad, you just wanted some form of palpable response from him.

His response caused you to lift your head from his chest, looking at him straight in the eye. 

“What?” He looked back at you, a confused look coming over his face. It was not legitimate confusion as though he were a kid trying to work out a math problem he just couldn’t figure out; no, instead it was one of annoyed perplexion, like he were a kid who had just finished a long list of chores and was beckoned forth by his mother, anticipating another arduous job. 

“I mean for real, like with a wedding and a ring. I wanna get married in front of god.” You urged, a hopeful glint in your eye. 

“I mean, I don’t know about that yet. Don’t you think you’re fast forwarding a bit?” He sighed, perhaps a bit too harshly, because it came out more like a scoff. You persisted though.

“John, we've been together for so long now!” You slapped his chest, moving to sit on your knees next to where he lay. He scoffed intentionally now. 

“Don’t you see me in your future?” Your voice wavered, your inflection desperate. John sighed, sitting up alongside you. “Look, (Name)-”

“Do you love me?!” You were frantic now, clutching the fabrics of your skirt at your knees. Your knuckles turned white as you pulled anxiously; the stitches you had sewn on there yesterday ready to tear once again. 

“This is tedious…” He sighed, cupping his forehead. 

“Do you love me!” It came out as more of a demand, imploring him for any sort of response that didn’t dance around the question. You just needed some form of clarity, some form of directness. 

“What do you think?” He responded with aggravation. You neither nodded nor shook your head. There was a moment of shared realization between the two of you that neither of you wanted to address. Too scared to confront it. 

“Y’know, you think EVERYTHING about me is tedious now.” You moved your hands in the air animatedly to emphasize your point. “You can’t entertain my little wedding fantasies. You can’t even say I love you back! What? Because it’s too laborious for you? You think you’re too good for that?” 

“You know how I feel about you, (Name).” He tried to reach for your hand, but you promptly slapped his wrist away from you. For a moment, his eyes flashed a resemblance to a kicked puppy.

“Well if you feel it, why can’t you say it?” You sobbed, hugging your knees to your chest now. The two of you faced each other defensively. It felt more like you were having an argument against an adversary than having a productive conversation with your man. Silence settled in between you two as you both contemplated your next moves, not quite knowing how to navigate this difficult situation. But in your mind, these were simple circumstances. Though even if John finally said he loved you, you weren’t sure you’d feel better at all again.

John sighed and shrugged his shoulders; that being the only response he could muster. You scoffed angrily before standing up from where you sat next to him, storming off wordlessly, and without giving him a second glance. You just wanted to hear it—you couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t say it. You bit your quivering lip in an attempt to hold your tears back, bee lining towards the girls’ tent. You thought you were doing a good job at containing your river of emotion behind a dam, but when Mary-Beth looked up at you with a face of bewildered concern, her eyes softening in realization, and she asked you “Are you okay?”, you were done for.

At once, you crumbled in on yourself, your shoulders beginning in a series of heaves and irregular trembles. Your cries were silent at first, until Mary-Beth pulled you into her arms, bringing you down to your knees. Your cries grew in volume, drawing the attention of a few gang members, namely Tilly and Karen, and the two scurried to your side quickly in concern. You received a flurry of questions from the three of them as they ushered you away from camp towards a more private area, away from curious eyes. 

“It’s in his tone, like, in his voice and in the way he talks to me. It’s like he’s working up the courage to say something!” You sobbed, receiving a chorus of pitiful “oh”s. It wasn’t the first time the camp girls had heard your endless rants about your love life. They’d seen your relationship from the very beginning, even from the days where you merely had a crush on John. Now they were subject to every little detail about your partnership with him.

“What if he’s working up the courage to say I love you?” Mary-Beth suggested. 

“But why now?! He used to say it all the time so what changed?” You asked, hoping from some sort of answer that would satiate your need for clarity. But you knew that the girls could not provide it. Not even the man you loved could provide it, and that drove you crazy.

“What if I’ve scared him off though? Like, with my neediness! I always say I love you and I even wrote those stupid poems for him. And I talk about our future and marriage, and what if that’s too much for him?!” The words flew out of your mouth now like the tears from your eyes. You’d resorted to wiping away your snot and tears on your arm until Tilly handed you a handkerchief. 

“But you two have been together so long. You’re not irrational for wanting to discuss those things. And if he doesn’t want the same things then he needs to be direct.” Tilly squeezed your shoulders and moved you to look at her as the two other girls nodded. 

“But I’m always leaning on him and—”

“Leaning on him how?” Karen asked. 

“Well… Like, wanting reassurance and stuff…”

The three girls looked at each other in shared disbelief.

“Well, that’s what he’s there for…” Mary-Beth said softly.

“But he says I shouldn’t need it, I should just know!” You argued. It sounded more like you were defending John at this point. 

“Well, maybe…” Karen began hesitantly. “Maybe he’s just not the right guy…” 

You took a moment to finish cleaning your face up with the handkerchief before handing it back to Tilly, who held it an arm’s length away. You thanked them promptly before standing up and storming back to camp. You felt their troubled stares on your back, and you felt the urge to arch your back inwards as if you were splashed with cold water from behind. 

You had decided to isolate yourself for the later half of the day, keeping to your own devices just outside of camp as you leaned up against a tree and read. Mary-Beth had approached you momentarily to offer you a spot by her cot if you preferred sleeping there for the night. You noticed her grimace when she saw your somber face, and you also took note of the way she hesitated to speak further; her questions of concern for your well-being held back. 

She reminded you that she was there for you and began walking away, and just as if she were leaving the stage after an audition and the next contestant was up, she switched places with John. You continued to look down at your book, and when you saw the familiar worn leather boots, you tried your best to keep reading. You hadn’t even realized you were reading the same line over and over, unable to process the words on the page. But in your stubbornness, you refused to look up or acknowledge him. 

“(Name).” He began, his inflection wavering. 

You refused to look up or even speak for that matter. 

“(Name), I’m sorry.” He kneeled down to eye level with you, tipping his head to the side in hopes of catching your gaze with him. Your eyes moved opposite of where he looked, dropping your reading facade. 

“Listen I… I’ve been a fool alright.” 

You scoffed in laughter, rolling your eyes. “That’s an understatement.” John was relieved to have gotten some sort of reaction from you, falling back to sit on his rear more comfortably and crossing his legs. 

“I would just, really like it if you still slept with me in the tent tonight…” He went on to say.

“What for?” You finally looked at him and cocked a brow quizzically, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. 

“I just wanna talk, okay? I’ve been real indecisive and I just… think this would do us some good y’know. Instead of uh, yelling at each other, and stuff…” John cleared his throat, struggling to come up with the perfect combination of words that would convey his message perfectly. Though you found his ineloquence charming. You closed your book and sent it down on your lap gently, beginning in a small nod before becoming more profuse. 

“Yes, I’d like to talk.” You admitted. “No yelling.” 

John offered his hand out towards you, and the way the sun hit his back made it appear as though there were some incandescent halo around his body that made him appear holy; the guardian angel you needed so badly in your time of melancholy finally being sent to you. You took his palm, being pulled to your feet by his strength.

“I love you. John.”

“I love you, too.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Me and My Husband - Mitski

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #writing #van der linde gang x reader #red dead fanfiction #john marston #john marston one shot #john marston x reader #John marston x reader angst #john marston x reader fluff #John marston angst #John marston fluff

[zvdvdlvr]

ain't like that, kid. | PROLOGUE, INTRO

series masterlist | navigation

☆ - synopsis :: john marston used to be known for sleeping around with women. he was dangerous in a way that got many women got… aroused. now that he was running with the dutch van der linde gang, that was all behind him- not to mention he had jack and abigail. needless to say when he gets contacted by one of the women he had sex with, he was genuinely taken aback when he was informed that he had a daughter that needed a different place to live.

☆ - warnings :: coarse language, murder, attempted murder, bad communication, illness, character death, it gets better

☆ - pairings :: platonic john marston x daughter ! original chatacter

☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - ☆ - PROLOGUE, INTRO

"Ain't you handsome," crooned a woman, running her hands along John's shoulders. The man smiled and took a swig of the alcohal in his glass.

"Thank you, ma'am. Y'ain't bad yerself," he found himself saying. John was affected by the alcohal, but he was still thinking properly.

"Well, I thank you kindly. You got a name, mister?" the woman asked, massaging john's shoulders.

"Yes ma'am," he replied after finishing his drink.

"Oh? Well what is it?"

Standing up and turning around, John smiled a charming smile that made all the girls dance. "Whatever you want to call me, honey, that's my name." With that, John gently grasped the woman by the waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

I think you know what happens next.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Almost 9 months later, the woman that John had sex with that night gave birth to two kids. Two baby girls, both small and tiny. Premature, the doctor had said. Both of the girls were premature.

This was not very good, doctor Mathers explained. They were barely into the eighth month when Catharine gave birth.

It doesn't matter, Catharine had said. I'll do what needs to be done.

What are you going to name the girls ma'am? the man asked after nodding at the woman's previous statement.

Catharine thought for a moment. Carmen and Cameron, she answered. The Corrigan family has two more successors, Catharine said with a smile.

Indeed it does, Doctor Mathers had replied with a weary smile.

☆ - ☆ - ☆ -

Cameron and Carmen were like many sisters of the era: best friends. The girls- although very similar in looks- were differing in personalities. Not to the point were they clashed over everything, just to the point where they each grew irritated at each other for their likes and dislikes.

Carmen was the oldest. She left the womb approximately three minutes and fifty six seconds before Cameron. As the eldest, Carmen made it her responsibility to take over the chores that Cameron inevitably slacked off. Carmen had black hair that reached her back that was twisted into intricate braids pinned to her scalp. Carmen was nice enough. The girls were told never to speak unless spoken to, never lie or withhold information, never speak out against an elder's statement, and to never wish harm upon anyone. Every single one of these rules were broken by both of the girls but as long as they weren't doing anything illegal or to get the family of three in trouble then Catharine didn't care.

Cameron. The second born. Cameron was as perceptive as her sister but she normally stated what she saw. Cameron was taller than her sister by not even an inch. She was a strawberry blonde, just like Catharine. Cameron inherited her mother's brown eyes while Carmen had a vibrant shade of green and brown. (Literally. Carmen's left eye was green and the other was brown!) Cameron's hair was cut as short as her mother would let it. Her hair was exactly two and a half inches past her shoulder and was braided and pinned back just like Carmen's hair.

Catharine's joy about her kids never wavered. They were the joy of her life, along with a bottle of rum every once in a while. Catharine kept clean for her girls, always putting them first. She worked at the local saloon and was fortunate enough to be able to bring home three or four extra meals that the chef had made more of.

Despite how happy the three were, they knew the hardships of life. When Carmen and Cameron were barely a year old, Catharine was living out in the streets, picking the locks of some churches and sneaking into abandoned houses to sleep in. Only when Catharine had four more years of parenting under her belt did the tide start to turn.

Now at 14, Carmen and Cameron were both working in town. Carmen and Cameron both took time out of their day to go earn some money at the Valentine stable to help clean stalls. In return, the men working would give each twin a dime or two and teach them how to ride horses.

The twins had different main jobs. Carmen worked at the gun store with 'Papa Dalton' (an inside joke from years ago). Papa Dalton taught Carmen everything she'd ever need to know about using any kind of weapon, and- as per their mother's request- taught both the girls basic fighting moves.

Cameron worked with the town doctor, Ben Calloway. She spent her days helping treat ailments and studying medicine. The doctor had a soft spot for the family. He- along with Dalton Smith- cared for the family of three like a grandfather. Calloway taught both girls how to stitch someone up properly, how to suture a wound, remove snake venom from a bite, and many other useful things.

In any case, the Corrigan family were doing better than most. They had each other and reciprocated love for their town of Valentine.

#zvdvdlvr; ain't like that <comma> kid 🌾 #john marston #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith #javier escuella #rdr2 arthur morgan #original character #john marston x reader #john marston angst #john marston fluff #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 fluff #red dead redemption two #rdr john #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan #red dead #rdr2 community #red dead redemption #jules writes 📓 🖊 #jules writes 📓🖊 #dutch van der linde #van der linde gang #red dead 2 #dutch rdr2 #rdr2 dutch #rdr2 john #rdr2 hosea

[verdemoun]

I’m sorry but can you imagine the impact Isaac’s death had on the rest of the gang. No one knowing what to do but watching Arthur change. Arthur losing himself, drinking constantly, going through episodes of uncontrollable rage to being emotionally vacant, where he asks Hosea (post-Bessie) if he’ll ever feel anything again. Nights where they think they can hear Arthur crying in his closed tent, and there’s an unspoken fear they could lose him. Fear that Arthur is going to die with his son, whether it’s drinking or increasingly reckless missions where it feels like he’s not trying to dodge bullets, or if one day he’s going to go off on a hunting trip and be found months later as a corpse with a gun still in his hand.

But he somehow pulls through. Recovers, or represses the grief enough to masquerade as okay. Starts smiling again.

John not understanding how devastating that grief could be until he’s holding his own son - a tiny fragile baby and knowing he already loves him too much. He doesn’t know how to be a parent, he doesn’t know how it’s possible to love something so much. He does know he could never be as strong as Arthur, because if anything happened to that tiny baby he wouldn’t be able to live. It’s terrifying, knowing something so small could destroy him. So he puts up walls: maybe it's not his baby. Still loves him. Tries to avoid Abigail and the baby. Still loves him.

He has to leave. Before that baby kills him.

#arthur morgan #john marston #look i worked on my essay a little okay leave me alone enjoy some angst

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Gossip

Masterlist Word count: 550 Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Summary: You know that John likes you. You know that Arthur likes you. They know about each other, but the others don't. Gossip spreads and, what feels like a ticking time bomb, turns out to be unconnected. 

---------

'I don't think he knows,' Abigail says as she sits, knitting with Mary-Beth and Tilly while watching you and Arthur talk. John has gone out hunting with Charles to learn how to use a bow as he is useless with it. Arthur had asked Charles to do so but Abigail suspects he had other motives for getting John away from camp.  'I think he does,' Tilly argues with a grin, 'why else would he ask Charles? Everyone knows John is too impatient to learn how to use a bow.' She's got a point, Abigail figures.  Things had been weird ever since you joined the gang. Sadie had found you in Valentine and recognized you as an old friend. In fact, the friend who set her up with her husband. She told the others you seemed lost and needed some place where people have your back. Most were sceptical but your turned out to be a hard worker and a great hunter, bringing in huge game for the camp whenever you went out. Dutch had almost considered letting you take a wagon along so you could bring enough to sell it.  That great aim of yours also pulled in different attention. Both John and Arthur became more than smitten with your friendly and kind demeanour. Mary-Beth had suggested that Arthur liked you for your kindness and willingness to listen while John liked you for your viciousness and rough edges. Both great attributes that make you who you are.  'Well, either way, they're both fools,' Mary-Beth claims, ending the argument.  'Do you think she knows,' Tilly questions.  'For sure she knows,' Mary-Beth answers as all of them watch you gently touch Arthur's shoulder as he makes a joke not worthy of the laughter that comes out of you.  'She's really toying with them, ain't she,' Abigail grumbles. Despite liking you quite a bit, she fears what it might do to the gang if Arthur and John are pinned against each other. It's a bad predicament to be in and since the year that John left the gang is still a sore spot for Arthur, Abigail fears things might explode with the littlest of meddling. When her and John put an end to it, she was slightly relieved, but this is just insanity. 

'Do you think they know,' Arthur questions you. You shake your head with a grin.  'No, they probably think I'm hopping between you two. They wouldn't be gossiping about us as much if they knew.'  'Fair point.' He puts a gentle hand on your waist to pull you closer and watches at the jaws drop across camp.  'Are you trying to rile them up, cowboy,' you tease as you take a step closer to him. He shrugs. You roll your eyes and press a kiss to his jaw. 'Come on, let's go join Charles and John.' Arthur looks over at the women once more as he leans towards you.  'If only they knew about Charles.' You shove him away with a laugh.  'Oh, stop it. I liked you better when you were still being shy about liking me.' 

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan angst #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #rdr 2 fanfic #rdr 2 fanfiction #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x you #john marston x fem!reader #john marston x female reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #charles smith x reader #charles smith x you #charles smith x fem!reader #charles smith x female reader #charles smith #charles smith rdr2

[barghest-land]

he did it !!

#i got very sad today for no reason #so i drew this #and after i did it i was like #:)))))))) #maybe it's just angst that killed me. idk #rdr horse taming missions are 10/10 #john marston #rdr1 #rdr2 #barghestland

[constanceagony]

My heart breaks for fictional men.

#red dead redemption 2 #van der linde gang #cowboy #john marston #shitpost #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #charles smith #rdr2 #jack marston #john marston jr. #kieran duffy #mary beth gaskill #angst #abigail marston #sean macguire #sadie adler #lenny summers #molly oshea

[idyllghost]

Thinking about writing a “time travel” fic where after the events of rdr1 John doesn’t die but instead wakes up on the cliff side of colter after being mauled by wolves. He has a chance to fix things, to save people to save himself for his family. But most importantly he gets to coddle and adore a 4 year old Jack because “oh my god my boy is so small I can’t believe I didn’t appreciate him at this time”

#I live writing John as a loving father #cause he is but I wanna write him and younger Jack being joined at the hip #Abigail is like WHAT THE FUCK DID THE WOLVES DO H U H #he just kisses her cheek #‘love you angel’ #and she does a double take #I think it would be very fun have phenomenal angst moments and be incredible #leo.txt #leo talks to the void #leo talks into the void #red dead redemption #john marston #rdr2 #rdr1 #rdr fanfiction #fanfic ideas

[gothicgunslinger]

Pre rdr2, where you join the gang just before Arthur and John do – for a while, it was you, Dutch, and Hosea; a seemingly unstoppable trio of theatrics, gunslingin' and thievin'.

That and, both Dutch and Hosea had eyes for you. At first, it felt like a complication – I mean, they couldn't both have you, right? Right?

I suppose that all changed, after a rather eventful night at the saloon. A planned robbery, turned completely on it's head – the three of you throwing caution to the wind and deciding just to let loose, get drunk, dance, have fun. Oh, and fun was had.

Somehow, several whiskeys down the line, you were all collectively crammed into a hotel room – your back against Dutch's chest, his rough, decored hands rolling your nipples between harsh, calloused fingers; the cold silver of his rings making you shudder, an array of goosebumps adorning your skin, his breath on your ear as he murmured filth from behind those lips. Hosea, on the other hand, always the gentleman – his head between your already trembling thighs, tongue circling your aching clit, your slick tasting like fresh honey as he periodically swallowed.

After that, no night, nor day was the same. You were often spent, jelly-legged from a rough pounding the several nights prior – neither men showing mercy, indulging perhaps a little too much in enacting fantasies they'd let swim around their heads for so long. Still, as if you'd ever find it within you to complain – because, there were nights like this one; Dutch's head in your lap, as he read aloud his usual philosophies, your fingers combing through his tight, inky curls as a warm smile played at your lips. Your free arm, laced around Hosea, his head upon your shoulder – he'd occasionally pepper gentle, innocent kisses to your neck, your jaw. It was bliss.

Little really changed, when you found Arthur. The sex was less, of course, but the affections were perhaps on a rise – a son, now curled up in bed with the three of his parents. Fourteen, lost, now having sought the comfort he'd so desperately craved. Though it did take time, Arthur saw you as a mother – some, angelic force within his life, that kissed his grazed knees, cut his hair and soothed tears or terrors that so often reared their ugly heads.

John. John, wasn't an entirely different story, either. Well, for Dutch and Hosea, he certainly was. In comparison to his older counterpart, John wasn't quite as equal with his appreciation for his s o-called 'adoptive parents'. He favoured you, greatly. More than you could say you were grateful for, John competed with Arthur for your attention – purposefully skinning his knees, tumbling from his horse. All, to be scooped into your arms. Admittedly, for a while, you yielded – “Shh, sweetheart, I’ve got you. Awh, my poor boy.” All while planting a kiss to the crown of his head. Finally, at the advise of Hosea, you set a few boundaries – much to John’s distaste, but he’d listen to you.

Life went on like this, for a good, long while. Yes, you weren’t really a gang, anymore – rather, a family. Poker on spring nights, in which, John’s wrinkled nose giving him away. Hosea teaching the boys to read by the campfire, Dutch slow-dancing with you in your shared tent. Despite the expected blip, bump in the road, life felt..perfect.

#then you died #jk unless you like angst #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #hosea matthews #hosea matthews x reader #arthur morgan #john marston #van der linde gang #pre rdr2 #smut #kinda #rambles #fanfic #red dead redemption two #im emotional

[lucasoliko]

Why didn't they just kiss and talk things out? Are they stupid??

#too much 1911 javier angst lately..... #him and john should kiss to feel better #i love 1911 jovier actually they make me a little crazy #will definitely draw angst of them at some point though !!! #red dead redemption #john marston #javier escuella #jovier #fanart #lucasolikos art #rdr1

[softrozene]

Comforting Female Reader Who Has Experienced an Assault

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

rdr2 masterlist

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

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

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

Originally published on February 11, 2020

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

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

Hosea Matthews-

He would hear this from you directly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Dutch Van Der Linde-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Expect a lot more gifts from yours truly

  By a lot, I mean a lot

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

  Can’t say that about the money though

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

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

  Arthur Morgan-

  Is a saint no matter what he says

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

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

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

  He would treat you the same

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Charles Smith-

  He would be the most understanding like Hosea

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

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

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

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

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

  He’ll be there for you all the way

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

  Charles can and will be your rock if you need it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  John Marston-

  Is fucking awkward when it comes to this kind of thing

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He will desperately try to understand you though

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

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

  Javier Escuella-

  This man would have no idea what to say at first

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Hermosa, you’re strength inspires me”

  And it truly does

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

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

  Sean Macguire-

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Hopefully, his energy will rub off on you

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

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

  He will end the speech with something gory I bet

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

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

[kayomin]

normal jovier enjoyer

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanart #john marston #javier escuella #jovier #the memes i found on pinterest killed me #that cup one is so canon and it lives rent free in my brain #im also head over heels with charthur so don't get me started or else i will be VERY UNHINGED #ive been playing this game for 2 years and im finally drawing fanart of it lol #kind of got john's scars wrong with the first one but i was learning hh #im not ready to draw angst of 1911 jovier bls my heart #i was going to tag arthur but he's just a tiny man-standing-emoji #kayomin

[glenechoslasher]

Could I have a John x fem reader where the reader reacts to John winning (but still beat tf up) in a bar fight?

Thanks bestie <3

Eyyy of COURSE you can bestie?! I have been practicing writing John, and I may not be the best, but I think I'm confident in my abilities. I think. But here, have a fun, flirty little brawl with your man~

"Trouble" ||

John Marston x f!Reader

Length: 2.1k

Rating: Mature: Mentions of blood, fighting, language

How John ended up in this situation was honestly beyond him, it was just an innocent outing with you and him running some errands for the ranch, and yet he was getting fist after fist pounded into his face. 

After a long day of working, you could tell he was going stir-crazy. His old life was all about freedom and running around, doing things to bring in money or just getting to do as he pleased, but now? He was on a ranch, pretending to be someone he wasn’t to get by, and his trigger finger was beginning to itch. But to make you happy, to keep your heads low, and to survive, John had to behave and live as his persona for the time being. 

“So, Jim,” you said with a smirk, “maybe we should stop at a saloon since it’s getting dark, we could eat a decent meal, maybe stay in a hotel for the night. I’m tired,” you sighed and leaned your head against the man’s shoulder. 

John matched your sigh and flicked the reigns on the horses as he pulled them to the right, heading into Valentine's territory, which he hadn’t expected to be back here so soon. “I mean, it is a long way back, we could use the rest. And I am starvin’, could use something that isn’t a stew for once.” 

You both pulled the wagon off and made sure the horses were comfortable, hitched to a nearby post, and then John helped you down to the ground and smiled wide with his arm wrapped around your waist. “Well, let’s get inside, maybe we can get a bath before bed, too,” he said softly with a smirk. He pulled you along and walked beside you, looking around the town that felt so different from when he was last here. 

As you both entered the saloon, you definitely could tell that the environment was more lively, but you both tried to keep your wits about you as you ordered some food and sat in the corner, away from the rowdy group of people. The food was delicious and the conversation you shared was pleasant, as usual, but John couldn't shake the feeling that eyes kept falling on you both. He'd look away from you as he stopped mid-sentence to see one of the men staring at the both of you, but he tried to pay no mind, you were taking his attention. 

The food was finished and you both were feeling content, the party of people in the saloon only grew larger in number and louder in volume, so you both figured it was time to head out to the hotel for the evening. John allowed you to walk out first so he could follow behind you, but you had barely gotten several steps toward the door when one of the men stepped in front of your path, blocking you from the exit.

“Hey there now, y'all ain't plannin’ on comin’ over to celebrate with us?” 

“Sorry, friend, but we have other plans to attend to,” John answered firmly. 

The man just scoffed, the reek of booze was strong on his breath, it was a wonder he was still standing. “Aww c'mon, my friend over there is gettin’ married, you could have one drink to congratulate him!”

“Sorry sir, but we don't even know you,” you said sharply, stepping back from him, and bumping into John. You felt a bit more at ease since he was here.

“And? You ain't heard of makin’ friends?” The man chuckled and grabbed your arm, pulling you along toward the table. He then decided to yank your arm and attempt to pull you over toward the table, but John stepped up and grabbed his wrist hard. 

“We ain't interested, sir. My woman and I are heading out for the evenin’, so maybe next time you should use your brain and not touch a lady when she says no.” 

John pushed the man away so you both had room to leave, but some of the drunk’s friends decided to get involved. 

John stepped up protectively, his spine stiffened as his hand hovered over the knife that was holstered, hidden beneath his jacket. “Sir, you got till the count of three to back off and leave us alone,” he warned. 

There had been a taller man who stood up from the table and interjected, pushing his friend gently off to the side. “Are you threatenin’ us?” He snapped. 

“I ‘spose I am,” John retorted, holding his ground as he pushed you further behind him to shield you. 

Another of the man's friends stepped up and tried to land a surprise swing on John, but he pushed you out of the way and took the hook to his shoulder. After that, John was brawling with several of the men who ganged up on you both. The one in the red shirt had tried to grab John to put him in a headlock so his friends could take their turns wailing on him, but your John was fast. He elbowed Red and kicked his leg in, causing the man to fall flat on his face.

That was one down—three more to go.

“I ain’t been in a bar fight in a long time,” John commented as he had both arms up, ready to block any attacks if needed, “but I’d rather continue my night with my lady if you gentlemen don’t mind.”

The three other men all ignored him and each one tried to punch him at different intervals to throw him off, but somehow, John managed to throw one man into the other and watched as the two tumbled straight into a table. The others who occupied the saloon were standing back and vacating the building. The bartender just sighed and walked off, not wanting to be part of yet another brawl. That left you, standing on the stairs away from the tussle. 

The gunslinger looked back and you, making sure you were out of harm's way, then he got back to it. The two men who collided with the table were too drunk to stand, and all they did was stumble over one another. There was one left standing, and he was a little larger than the others. 

“Look, I can just leave, no reason you gotta get involved,” John said nonchalantly, his stance easing up a little.

The man just glared down at him and he scoffed at the offer. “You ruined my engagement celebration, mister, I don’t take so kind to that.”

John just sighed and lifted his hands again, balling them into fists. “Alright then, have it your way,” he replied.

The man took a fast step forward and swung his fist straight at John’s jaw, and if it weren’t for the speed, maybe John would have dodged it, instead, he got nicked against his chin, which still caught him enough to cause some pain. That was all the distraction the man needed to step in and lunge at John, his larger body barreled into him and tackled him to the floor.

You let out a yelp, terrified that the man was going to have a one-up on John, and all you could do was watch in fear as your hands gripped the railing in fear. 

The gunslinger was pinned onto the floor as the man above him threw punch after punch, landing a blow on his cheek, and almost breaking his nose at one point. John held up his arms to block and tried his best to use the strength from his legs to somehow get him to slip off, and he managed to throw the man off of him for a split second. He scrambled to find some balance, then rolled off to the side as the man recovered. 

“Give up yet?” John asked with a smirk on his face as he licked the blood from his split lip, the bruises on his face forming fast.

The man just yelled out in frustration and then John had him in a blind frenzy, which made any man messy in a fight. John ducked from the swing and swung his right arm quickly, the blow landed in the side of the man’s temple, stunning him momentarily. Then it was over, John was finally standing over him and landing punch after punch in the man’s face until he fell unconscious. The gunslinger released the man’s collar, allowing his body to fall slack onto the wooden floor. 

He looked up at you, panting to catch his breath as he straightened his posture. The people who occupied the saloon had all either hidden somewhere or run off, and there were just the two of you left with the pile of unconscious men scattered about on the floor. You waited a moment before hesitantly walking down the stairs to run into his arms, thankful he was alright despite being a little black and blue. 

“As always you’re my hero,” you chuckled and reached up to touch his face, wiping away a smear of blood from his lip. 

“And as always, we’re both gettin’ into trouble,” he replied gruffly.

You just scoffed. “We?” 

“Well yeah, you’re my accomplice, partner in crime, ain’t you?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus you’re the one always gettin’ the attention,” John teased as he slipped his arm through yours. He pulled you along and threw a couple of bills onto the countertop, then escorted you outside and across the muddly way, leading you straight to the hotel. 

You both walked inside, the environment a complete flip from the saloon, and you were more at ease now, and even more thankful when you saw the list of services. The gentleman behind the counter stopped sweeping the floor and greeted you both with a kind smile.

“Howdy, how can I help y’all this evenin’?” He looked between the both of you with concern but didn’t voice them. 

Your eyes looked over at John with a smile and then back at the desk man. “One bath and one room, please.”

The man smiled and got everything situated for you both, you thanked him and paid, then pulled John up the stairs to the bath. He followed obediently and cracked his neck as he ascended the stairs with you, groaning.

“Sleepin’ is gonna be a bitch, I just know it,” he complained.

“Well if you behaved for five minutes you wouldn’t have to worry about it, would you?” You scolded playfully as you looked over your shoulder at him. “He got some good hits in, but not gonna lie, Mister Marston, you looked really good kickin’ his ass.” You flashed him a cheeky smile and continued to lead him to the bath. “You go get cleaned up, I’ll get the room ready.” 

You almost walked away, leaving him in front of the bath door, but his hand grabbed your wrist, and then he pulled you back toward him, falling into him as his arms wrapped around you. “Yeah? You think I looked good, huh?” He asked flirtatiously, pulling you close so his face was mere inches from yours. “Then why do you think you can just leave me here alone?” “John Marston, are you implyin’ I’m gonna join you in your bath?” You gasped, faux shock crossed your features. 

All he could do was smile, the raised edges of the scars across his face made his face look extra handsome, and the dim lighting in the hall only made you admire his face even more. “Nah, I’m declarin’ that you are, unless you don’t wanna?” His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you into the most tender kiss he could manage. 

When he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open and you just stared up at him with a lovestruck smile. “Well, when you put it that way…”

That was all the confirmation he needed, so he opened the door to the readied hot bath, pulling you in after him, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he closed the door behind you both. You sighed as he leaned your hands against his chest, just smiling up at him with that look.

“I know that look, what is it?” 

“Nothin’, you’re just trouble, John Marston,” you said softly, your hand cupped his cheek again, mindful of how gentle you had to be. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that, right?”

The man looked down at you and pulled you into another kiss, pulling away a moment later with that charming smile you were unable to resist, his hand reached up to brush your hair away from your face so he could see the light in those pretty eyes of yours. Just a minor setback to your shared evening, but John always had ways to make it up to you. 

#Tinalbion writings #john marston #john marston drabble #john marston writing #writing drabble #writing ask #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x you #john marston x f!reader #comfort #angst #fluff #afab reader #vidjausers-fable

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: It's time to collect a debt

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 4 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

Time whisked by faster than a hound chasing a rabbit through tall grass. A week had already slipped through Kate's fingers since she first became a part of the camp. Initially planning just a brief stay, she found herself relishing the comforting routine it offered. There was always a warm fire to gather around, a hearty meal to share, and the camaraderie of her newfound friends. But amidst the stability, a yearning for adventure tugged at her heartstrings, urging her to break free from the confines of camp, even if only for a day.

Arthur's comings and goings became a familiar rhythm in the camp's bustling routine. Rarely catching more than a glimpse of him before he vanished on another errand for Dutch, Kate couldn't help but miss his presence. She admired his unwavering dedication to the gang's needs, even if it meant sacrificing his own rest and relaxation. The man seemed to be perpetually on the move, always ready to answer the call of duty, no matter the hour.

Determined to bridge the gap, Kate promised herself to lend a hand the next time Arthur returned to camp, as long as it didn't involve any unsavory activities like killing folk. Meanwhile, she found solace in the company of her fellow campmates. Abigail, Tilly, and Mary-Beth had become her trusted confidantes, bonding over laundry duties and exchanging juicy tidbits of camp gossip. Kate couldn't help but chuckle at the wealth of information she'd amassed about John, courtesy of Abigail's candid revelations. She could probably write a book with how much dirt she had on him. 

Kate also found companionship in the likes of Sadie and Lenny, often engaging in games of poker or dominos to while away the hours. Karen and Molly remained enigmatic figures, preferring to keep to themselves, though Kate respected their need for privacy, understanding the complexities of the situation, and Molly’s relationship with Dutch. 

Despite their infrequent interactions, Kate held out hope for a chance to connect with Charles, intrigued by the silent strength he exuded. Perhaps a shared hunt would provide the opportunity for meaningful conversation. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The girls were gathered around the makeshift wooden table, indulging in a lunch of meat and cheese when Micah swaggered over, looking for trouble as usual. Kate had endured the displeasure of conversing with Micah only twice in the past week, and neither encounter had been pleasant. She noticed his penchant for making inappropriate comments, particularly targeting the other girls. When he wasn't being lewd, he took pleasure in needling the other gang members, especially Lenny, Javier, and sometimes even Arthur. Kate knew Arthur would have put him in his place if Dutch hadn't always conveniently intervened. She fought the urge to punch his greasy face when he made a jab about Arthur's weight, as if he were one to talk. After all, Arthur deserved to eat his fill for all the hard work he put in. Micah was always stirring the pot, and today seemed to be no different.

“Which one of you ladies wants to feed me my lunch?” He said smugly, resting both hands on his gun belt and standing uncomfortably close. The girls chose to ignore him. 

“Is this how you treat the men who provide for you?” He exclaimed with annoyance. 

Kate kept her head down and continued to eat as she spoke, as if Micah were less than an ant, “What exactly have you provided for us Micah? I’ve never seen you bring in food, or money for the matter. You leave and come back with nothing.” 

Micah scoffed and sauntered to stand behind Kate, trying to intimidate her, “I provide information sweetheart, I risk my life out there getting leads for jobs.”

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “you poor thing ,” she mused, “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” The other girls giggled at her comment. 

Micah stepped closer to her back, she could almost feel the gut of his belly against her hair, “watch your mouth woman.” He threatened. 

Kate sighed and leaned her chin against her palm, bored with the conversation, “or what Micah?” She said with an eye-roll. 

She heard him take a deep breath, or rather felt it, as he threw personal space at the wind at this point. He bent down to her ear and said lowly, “maybe I should take you to my cot, and fuck that attitude out of you whore .” He growled.  

Kate dropped her fork and whipped her elbow around, turning her whole body with force. Micah yelped as her elbow met his nose with a soft wet crunch, bright red blood dripping through his fingers as he looked up between his brows in anger. She had wanted to do that since the day she met him, fed up with how he talks to the women of the camp. This act was for the girls. 

“You dont have a dick to fuck me with Micah. You’re a lousy fucken’ excuse for a man,” she declared standing tall, “talk to me like that again and I’ll make sure I’m holding my knife when I swing next time.” 

The other members watched in stunned silence as Dutch emerged from his tent, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough of that!" he shouted, his gravelly tone signaling an end to the confrontation.

Micah spat at Kate’s feet and walked away, still trying to stem the blood pouring from his nose. She couldn't help but smirk at the sight – it was definitely broken. Sometime during the commotion, Arthur returned to camp, entering from the tree line as Micah left. She nodded in greeting as he approached.

Before she could walk over to him, Dutch intercepted her, clearly annoyed that their squabble had disturbed him. “Kate, my dear friend,” he said in a brusque tone, “why don't you find some work outside of camp today? Hm? Go make yourself useful.” He patted her shoulder.

Kate furrowed her brows at his insinuation. How was this her fault? Micah had clearly started it; he was always stirring up trouble and never finishing it.

“Arthur!” Dutch called out to the approaching cowboy. “Take Kate with you today. On, whatever it is you’re doing.” He waved them off, sounding like a parent trying to pass on their troublesome child to someone else.

Arthur approached with a shrug, “uh, sure. But I just got back-”

“Herr Morgan!” interrupted a voice, causing Arthur to visibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The list of chores never seemed to end, and Arthur was always the one sent to handle them.

“Strauss,” Arthur acknowledged with a tired voice, turning around to greet the wiry old German.

“How is the debt collecting coming along? Have you collected from that fella Downes?” Strauss inquired.

“No…I have not,” Arthur answered flatly. 

“Well, as you know, Mister Morgan, we lent him quite a sum, and it seems he has little intention of paying it back,” Strauss explained as he followed Arthur, who was trying to grab a meal for himself after working all day. “You have not seen him yet, I take it?” 

Kate stood back, observing the conversation unfold, patiently waiting to talk to Arthur. He was clearly irritated by Strauss’ interruption but tried to maintain politeness as he continued the conversation. “I-I’m sorry, Strauss. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’ll go give him a gentle reminder.” 

“Not so gentle,” the German corrected. “I don't like his kind. They think they are superior. Please take care of this right away.” With that, Strauss made his exit. Kate knew he wasn't trying to be rude or demanding; it was just another task that, for some reason, Arthur was deemed best suited to handle.

As Arthur finished speaking with Strauss, he turned back to Kate with a tired yet apologetic expression. "Sorry ‘bout that. Looks like Dutch has volunteered us for another errand," he said with a weary smile. 

Kate grinned in response, unfazed by the prospect of more work, though she had sympathy for the man, he was clearly exhausted. "No worries, Arthur. I'm always up for the adventure," she replied casually, “wanna saddle up after you finish eating?” 

"Sounds perfect," Arthur nodded appreciatively, carrying his plate back to the table. The other girls had already cleaned up and returned to their tasks.

“That was a nice swing you pulled on Micah,” Arthur remarked between spoonfuls of stew, “ ‘bout time someone made that asshole bleed. Just wish I could’a done it sooner.”  

“I certainly enjoyed it,” Kate admitted with a smirk, “I hate the way he talks to everyone.” 

"Yeah, me too," Arthur agreed, his tone filled with frustration,  pushing the contents of the leftover stew around with his spoon. "I don't know why Dutch insists on keepin’ him around," he added, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard.

Kate leaned against the table, her gaze following Micah's path. "He ain't good for nothing aside from causing trouble," she remarked, her voice firm.

Arthur brought the bowl to his lips and drained the last of his stew and stood up, determination in his eyes. "I'd give anything to watch that shit-stain hang," he declared as they headed towards their horses.

Kate nodded in agreement. "Amen to that."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The Downes ranch was a short ride west, Arthur taking the lead as Kate rode beside him. Lorena whinnied with excitement at the chance to stretch her legs and run again. 

“How did things go with Mary?” Kate inquired, breaking the comfortable silence. She had been wanting to discuss it with him but hadn't found the opportunity amidst their busy lives.

“It went alright, I guess,” Arthur began, maintaining a steady trot as he settled into the saddle. “Saved her little brother from some crazy cult,” he added with a huff.

“A cult? Good Lord, I hope it wasn't those bastards with the pointy white hoods,” she exclaimed, a hint of concern in her voice. 

Arthur chuckled. “Nah, nothing that serious. They called themselves Chelonians, followers of the turtle or something,” he explained, shaking his head with amusement. “Hell if I know, they seemed like they were ready to jump off the cliff when I found them.” 

“Yikes, poor kid probably just looking for some kind of purpose in his life,” she remarked with sympathy. 

“Yup, ain't we all,” Arthur agreed, scanning the horizon before turning to Kate, “you a religious woman?” he asked curiously. 

Kate pondered the question for a moment before responding, “Sorta,” she shrugged, “I used to be, I was raised catholic. My mother was pretty involved in the Vatican before she came here, so she carried a lot of those beliefs with her.” 

“Pardon my ignorance, but um, what's a vatican?” 

Kate smiled at his question, “it’s a city, in Rome,” she answered, “s’posed to be the Center of Christianity.” 

Arthur’s eyes lit up with interest, “Rome? I thought you said you was from Boston?”

She couldn't help but laugh, “I am, my mother was from Rome,” she clarified, “anyways, after she died the whole religion thing didn't really stick. Although sometimes I still find myself prayin’, just don’t know to who.” 

Arthur nodded at her answer, taking in the new information. Kate spoke up again and reciprocated his question, “are you a religious man?” 

He shook his head firmly, “nah, I don't believe in nothin’.” 

“Oh c’mon, you gotta believe in something. What do you make of this mess we call life?” Kate teased, trying to prompt a more serious answer from him. 

He sighed, “I believe everything must happen for a reason, otherwise, what's the point of it all?” 

“Well that’s much better than nothing” she said with a smile, “but I bet that belief will drive ya crazy too,” she thought about her next question for a moment before finally asking it, “what do you make of death?” 

Arthur kept his gaze forward as they trotted, seemingly avoiding the question. After a moment, he spoke up again, his voice sounding small. “I don’t know anything ‘bout that either.”

Kate exhaled softly. “If I remember correctly, that agent, Milton, said you were wanted for murder,” she paused, “who’d ya kill?” She knew she was probably pushing her luck, but if he didn’t want to answer she wouldn’t pry. 

Arthur shot her a look from under the brim of his hat. “Damn, woman, you sure are forward, ain’t you?” His lips twitched in a small smile.

Kate shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just asking!” she said defensively. “You’re an interesting man, Arthur. The first time we met, you were robbing a stagecoach, telling me you're a railway worker. Next thing I know, I see you again, and suddenly you got a $5000 bounty on your head. Forgive a woman for asking.” She laughed.

He laughed and shook his head, “I’m afraid that's a story for another time friend,” he said, nudging his mare's side and picking up the pace, “c’mon it ain't far now, I’ll race ya.” He added, changing the subject. 

Arthur wasn’t afraid to admit he had killed people; he knew she would have left the gang a while ago had she felt she was in danger. But he worried about what she would think of him when he told her the whole truth. He felt like a fool; he wasn't pretending to be innocent, but he liked what he had with her. It was easy, it was natural, and he feared when she knew the truth, she would think differently of him, think less of him.

Kate yipped, and Lorena sprang into action, beginning their race along the final stretch to the ranch. As they rode, Arthur pulled on his reins ever so slightly, letting Kate take the lead. He watched as she whooped and hollered, riding past with a grin plastered on her face.

A heavy cloud settled over him; this wasn't just some silly horse race with a pretty lady. They were riding to collect a debt, a debt that needed to be repaid because his gang needed money. And money was what got them into this mess in the first place. If things had gone differently in Blackwater, they wouldn't even be here. Arthur shook his head at the memory, suddenly reminded of his situation. He’s a wanted man, an outlaw; he’s here on a job, and he would make damn sure it got done.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate admired the small ranch as they hitched their horses to a fence post out front. It was a cozy house with a neat garden, and sprawling plains for grazing animals. "Not a bad spot to make a living," she thought.

A woman sat on the porch swing, sewing something in her lap, while a young boy tended to the chickens nearby. In the garden, a man was busy with his vegetables. Arthur marched toward the man, presumably Mr. Downes, prompting Kate to quicken her pace to catch up.

"Thomas Downes!" Arthur's voice boomed, startling Kate. His tone was starkly different from how he usually spoke. She realized he was putting on a show of strength. Annoyed that he hadn't planned their approach together, she followed behind him.

“Thomas Downes!” He repeated, “you owe me money!” As Arthur swung open the garden gate with force, dirt kicked up into the air. 

Mr. Downes stood up, hands raised defensively, clutching a rake to his chest as if it were his shield against the impending confrontation, “oh, no-no I-I’m.” His voice trembled. 

Arthur approached him with heavy steps, each one more intimidating than the last, “c'mere you maggot,” he spat. With a swift motion, he ripped the rake from Mr. Downes' grasp, leaving Kate stunned into silence.  

"Please, sir, I-I have family, please," Mr. Downes pleaded, backing up against the opposite fence post. Kate followed them into the garden, her heart racing with unease as she witnessed Arthur's actions.  

As Arthur swung his fist into the man’s face, Kate gasped in horror. At the same moment, Mrs. Downes came running from the porch, her voice filled with desperation. "He’s not well! Please, mister, he’s not well!" she pleaded, her eyes wide with fear. She was about to join them in the garden when her son held her back, silently signaling that it was better for his father to bear the brunt of the punishment. Kate’s mouth tasted like vinegar, this was wrong. 

“You think I give a shit about your family?” Arthur spat, his voice dripping with contempt.  

“Why does it have to come to this?” Mr. Downes cried, shielding himself from Arthur's blows. “Please! Be reasonable!”  

“We ain't a charity, Mr. Downes,” Arthur lowered himself to the man's level, his tone softening slightly. “Believe me, I didn’t want this either,” he added quietly, his regret palpable.

With a forceful grip, he grabbed Mr. Downes by his collar and shoved him against the post, the impact enough to break one of his ribs.  

“That's enough, Arthur!” Kate roared, stepping closer, her eyes blazing with anger.

“I-I don't have the money,” Mr. Downes panted, struggling to catch his breath.  

Arthur looked around at the scene, his frustration evident. “Then sell your wife,” he spat out, his voice laced with malice, “sell your house, I don't care!” He raised a fist and stopped when he heard the familiar click of a revolver. 

He turned around to see Kate, pointing her gun at him, the expression on her face made his heart sink. There was no need for him to tell her the truth now, she saw everything she needed to see already. 

“I said, that’s enough,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Put him down.” Arthur released Mr. Downes, who collapsed to his knees, coughing up blood. His wife rushed to his side, her face etched with concern.

“You gonna shoot me?” Arthur's voice was filled with bitterness. “Shoot me and take the $5000? Huh? That's your plan,” he continued, growing more agitated with each passing moment. “Well, get on with it!” he shouted.

“How much does he owe you?” Kate's voice cut through the tension, devoid of emotion.

Arthur lowered his hands, “what?”

“How much does he owe you?” she repeated, her tone impatient.

“$20,” Arthur answered reluctantly.  

Kate holstered her weapon and pulled a wad of cash from her satchel, she counted out twenty bills and grabbed Arthur’s hand, shoving the money into his palm. 

“Here, no sense in killin’ a man over $20,” she turned to the family, “Mrs. Downes, I suggest you take that man to a doctor. I heard you say he was unwell, and he probably has a broken rib or two now.” 

Arthur stared at the money in his hand, his thoughts swirling like a storm. He wanted to hurl it to the ground and watch it burn.

The family lifted Mr. Downes and made their way to the wagon, “th-thank you,” she said, fear still evident in her voice. 

Kate watched them depart, her gaze lingering until the sounds of the wagon faded into the distance. Turning to Arthur, who stood before her like a statue carved from stone.

“What the fuck was that?” she scolded, her tone sharp like a whip.

Arthur opened his mouth, then shut it, grappling for words like a fish out of water.

“You don't even have a reason do you? Beatin’ on a sick man like that? For $20?” Kate’s voice rose with each question.

As the seconds passed by Arthur felt embarrassment creep up his spine, his shame quickly manifesting into anger. “We ain’t a charity,” he finally muttered, repeating what he had said to Mr. Downes. His voice barely above a whisper, struggling to maintain his composure.

“So you resort to killing him,” she remarked, her voice tinged with disappointment as she observed his expression.

“I’m an outlaw Kate, I shoot first, ask questions later,” he spat. 

“Yeah well that's a dumb fucken philosophy,” she retorted sharply , “you’re sure as shit an outlaw. But you ain’t a fucking monster Arthur. That man was sick , he had no way of defending himself. Strauss could’ve waited for his money.” She finished, striding towards her mare. The sense of disillusionment weighed heavy in her heart. She had glimpsed Arthur's tough exterior when they first met at Emerald Ranch, but she never imagined it would lead to this. It made her stomach churn.

“If you don't like the way we do things then you can leave,” Arthur's voice came from behind her, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Kate stopped in her tracks, why does this hurt so much? She’d known them for only a week, but the thought of leaving filled her with dread. It wasn't just the familiar and simple daily tasks of cooking and cleaning that anchored her to the camp; it was the friendships she had forged. They were the closest thing she had to a family in a decade.

She drew in a shaky breath and regained her composure, not turning to face him yet, “do you ever stop and think about what all this senseless killing will turn you into?” Before he could answer she finished for him, turning to meet his gaze, “When you kill an innocent, you become a little less of a man and little more of an animal.”

Without missing a beat Arthur had his answer, “then what you’re looking at ain’t human.” He sauntered over to Kate with slow purposeful steps. His anger was still present, but as he drew closer she saw the look in his eyes. They looked dead, and devoid of color. The sun was setting behind the mountains to the north, and a frigid wind brought in dark heavy clouds. As if the sky was a reflection of the turmoil in his heart. Darkness covered him like a blanket of shame. A heavy, suffocating blanket just waiting to bury the truth. 

“My hands are so stained with blood,” he began, his voice wavering, “that I can’t even remember the face of the first innocent I killed,” he drew in a breath and looked at his boots, “that ain’t something you can change.” 

The wind picked up, carrying tiny bullets of rainwater that tickled against her face. She watched him, and her heart panged. She wasn’t ready to tell him, and perhaps she’ll never get the chance to. But she related to the outlaw, more than she ever anticipated. Her mind raced, bringing back memories of faceless bodies and blood stained skin. Kate pushed the memory down, swallowing it like a spoon of molasses. 

“I don’t intend to change that,” her voice, sounding like a whisper against the heavy wind. 

“Then what do you intend Kate,” his voice sounded coarse, like his throat was thick, “why does a woman like you hang around a bunch of outlaws?” 

Now it was Kate's turn to gape like a fish, she still didn't understand herself why she chose to stay. She wanted to think of them as family but she knew it was absurd, and most of the gang probably wouldn't feel the same way. 

Arthur waited for her answer. “It’s better than being alone,” she finally said, thunder rumbled in around them like a giant beating a drum. “And I like them, they're good people.” She added feeling like an idiot for having no real reason for her to stay. 

Arthur sighed and shook his head, turning to leave. 

And suddenly, she realized the answer was walking away ,“and, I like you.” 

When his eyes met hers, they were pleading, like it pained him to speak to her. “Then you’re a fool Kate. There ain’t nothing to like about me. I’m a bad man, and I ain’t gonna change.” He spoke as if he were reciting a poem he had memorized, the words flowing with such ease one would think he was trained, no , he was raised to believe it was true. 

“I can’t escape this life. I don’t know how to live any other way,” he sounded like a small child. 

“I don’t believe that Arthur,” Kate knew there was good in him, she’d seen it. And she considered herself to be a living testament that it’s not too late to change. She wanted to shout at him, to embrace him, to beat his chest and tell him to pick himself up and break the cycle . 

Instead, she stood silently as Arthur shook his head once more, walked over to his horse, and left her at the ranch. Without a word. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The journey back felt like a whirlwind, the cold rain pelting down relentlessly, soaking Kate to the bone.  She looked up to the familiar sound of a rowdy piano and drunken laughter, and was surprised to see herself outside the Valentine saloon. Having not paid much attention to her ride, her mind racing with thoughts, almost all of them about Arthur.

“Guess I should take the hint huh?” Kate chuckled wearily to Lorena, patting the mare's neck as she dismounted. She tied her under a small awning, sheltering from the downpour while she went in for a drink. 

As she knocked the mud off her boots, a familiar voice called her name. She turned to see Charles waving from the nearby gun shop. In the dim light, his silhouette was unmistakable as he jogged over to meet her.

“I thought I recognized you riding in,” he greeted. “This storm’s a real beast. What brings you out here?” concern evident in his voice.

Kate contemplated her response. It's a long story, is what she wanted to say. “I could ask you the same,” she replied with a faint smile.

“I was just getting some supplies for hunting,” Charles explained, gesturing to the rain. “Planned on leaving tonight, but it seems I'm stuck here for now.” 

“Bummer,” Kate remarked, her exhaustion seeping through her words. She craved a neat glass of whiskey to warm her aching bones. 

Charles narrowed his eyes, sensing her distress. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. 

She looked down at her boots and sighed, no sense in lying to him. It was clear she was upset. And she had been looking to talk to Charles more anyway. 

“Honestly,” she huffed, “no, I’m not. Arthur and I collected a debt today and Arthur was just-” she trailed, unsure what to say. Charles was his friend, and she didn’t want to bad mouth him. 

Understanding washed over Charles's face as he nodded sympathetically. “Arthur was being Arthur,” he murmured.

Kate bit her lip, “yeah.” Her disappointment deepened as she realized she had Arthur all wrong. 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Charles suggested, holding the saloon doors open with a warm smile.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

In a secluded corner upstairs, Kate slouched in a rickety chair, whiskey warming her insides. Charles, equally deep in his cups, listened attentively as she recounted the events at the Downes ranch.

“And then he told me I shoot first, ask questions later ,” she mimicked in Arthurs familiar southern drawl, “it's barbaric!” 

He chucked taking a swig of his drink, “that’s a dumb fucken philosophy,” he agreed.

Kate laughed as she slammed her glass on the table, “that's exactly what I said!”

They both laughed together over the coincidence, Kate’s heart felt lighter. It felt good to vent to someone, someone other than the girls. Not that she didn’t love them, but Charles was refreshing, he was new, and he was close to Arthur. She felt safe knowing that Charles saw a different side of him too. 

His laughter quieted and went back to his usual deep comforting tone, “I’m sorry Kate, Arthur is,” he hesitated, searching for the right answer, “a complicated man.” 

“I can see that,” she said quietly, her face still hot from a mix of whiskey and laughter. 

“The man has a heart of gold,” he added, “but it's buried deep beneath his outlaw code.” 

Kate didn’t understand, Charles was part of the same gang, but even he disapproved of his code, “I don’t get it,” she began, the words seemingly harder to pronounce, “you’s an outlaw too.”

Charles shook his head, his gaze steady, “I am, and I’ve had my moments, I’ll admit,” he lifted a hand as if he were swearing on a Bible, “but I don’t hurt innocent people.” Kate said nothing, choosing to stare at the water stains on the wooden table, her drunken vision making them twist shape. 

He leaned in closer, “there’s a good man within him Kate. But he is wrestling with a giant, and the giant wins. Time, and time again.” 

She thought she mumbled something along the lines of I know what that is like but the words barely came out. A heavy tiredness taking over, the alcohol bringing her down like a vessel struck in water. Kate heard a chuckle from Charles, in the next moment he was under her arm and leading her to a room. 

“Stay here tonight, get some sleep on an actual bed,” he urged softly. Kate made no protest as her head sank into the feathered pillow. Her body melted into the sheets. 

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he murmured from the doorway, “you should come hunting with me.” Kate tried to say yes, but all that came out was a hum, like a cicada quieting its song as darkness descended.

#arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #oc x canon #x reader #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #eventual romance #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 community #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #wattpad #fanfic #john marston #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #van der linde gang #fluff #angst #eventual smut #hurt/comfort

[fragolanervegas]

Constantly thinking about Arthur taking a father-like role to Jack during the year that John left, falling in love with Abigail, basically having a family again, then being left heartbroken and yet again without once John came back. Jack would probably still see him as a father though and would call out to him with the limited vocabulary a 1 year old would have as he really did see him as his father and didn't know John, which only rubbed salt on the wound for Arthur. Poor guy only wants to be loved and have a family.

#Arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #angst #i guess #jack marston #abigail marston #john marston #arthur would be the best father though #van der linde gang #red dead redemption

[barghest-land]

very little something for @lucasoliko :D i love ur animal crossing rdr drawings sm

#they sit at the fire and tell stories to each other<3 #no angst no pain just as it should be #i wonder if i should post it on instagram lmao #they're so silly.................<3 #rdr1 #john marston #javier escuella #jovier #(???) #barghestland #i hope ur okay with me drawing them tho q____q

[unmaskthewriter]

Scars {John Marston x GN!Reader}

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

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

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

Word Count: 500+

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

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

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

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

Mac.

Davey.

Kieran.

Sean.

Hosea.

Lenny.

Molly.

Susan.

Arthur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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