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ravengards-rogue · 2 months

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i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

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angelltheninth · 1 month

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Intimate moments #3: whuspering to each other with Arthur from RDR2? I loved thst little smut blurb you did for him.

Arthur is the kind of man anyone wants. Evidence: me.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, whispering, flirting, secret relationship, almost kiss

A/N: Remember to reblog and comment to support writers. Also I'm taking commissions right now so DM me if you're interested.

3. Whispering to each other

Arthur sat alone most of the time when he visited your saloon, or suppose it was your dad's but these days you ran it more than him. He preferred to stay behind the counter, pouring drinks and making small talk. It was up to you to go from table to table and Arthur's was always your favorite.

The gunslinger kept to himself most of the time, only getting involved when the situation called for it. Which in your small town wasn't often.

"It's why I like it here. A man can finally relax and put his feet up." He smirked from his chair, leaning far back on it, one leg propped up on the empty chair next to him.

"You know I like your company Arthur but if I see you putting your filthy, dusty boots on one of my tables you'll be the one cleaning them all night." You playfully pushed his foot back down as you set a full glass in front of him.

He laughed in a way he knew would attract attention. Specifically... "Yer dad's lookin' this way again missy."

You knew he would. Your old man didn't hate Arthur of course but he had a mild fatherly distain toward any man who spent a lot of time with you. So naturally you were attracted to Arthur even more, with his soft eyes and charming grin and adventurous spirit.

As you bent forward to wipe down the table you leaned in a bit too much, Arthur's eyes flickering down for a moment. "Is he looking?" You asked in a hush tone.

"Yeah. Your dad looks like he's tryin' to kill me right now." He didn't seem to scared of that threat. He's outrun many dangers, angry fathers were the least of them. "Does he know about... our outings?"

"I suspect that he suspects." You smiled knowingly as he tried to kiss you. In response you grabbed his hat and pushed it into his face. "If you want a kiss you have to be alive to get it."

"I can do that. Same time tonight?" He whispered, his hat further muffling his words against the noisy backdrop of the saloon.

"I'll be there." Dating Arthur in secret was by far the most exciting thing that's happened to you. The fact that it drives your overprotective dad crazy is an added bonus. You're pretty sure he'll come around soon, Arthur's charms have a way to making people like him.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fluff #rdr2 x female reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption x female reader #fluff drabble #x female reader

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brunetttebaby · 2 months

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ARTHUR MORGAN FLUFF!! people only ever write smut about him☹️ (as if my last fanfics haven’t been only smut)

he’s such a sweet lover. not even just in the bedroom, but in general! he’s loves taking care of his sweet girl, and would do anything and everything for you.

when the gang was in colter, you constantly found it hard to keep warm, and arthur being the walking heater he is, was the first to offer to hold you in his large coat, warming you up almost instantly.

when you’re in trouble with the law, he’s always there to protect you, assuring you everything’s gonna be alright as long as he’s by your side:(( and that’s true! he’s a big burly man, who wouldn’t be afraid of him?!?

sometimes he’ll come into camp injured, and you’ll run over to him, always taking care of his wounds, despite him telling you there’s no need.

“really, darling,” he started, slightly wincing as you pressed a damp cloth to his face. he always got into petty bar fights, and won nearly all of them, of course. “there’s no need for you to do this. ‘s just a scratch.” he continued, letting out a louder groan as you applied pressure on the now bruised skin.

“don’t be ridiculous, arthur. i want to take care of you.” you responded simply, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. he’d let you, groaning at the soreness of it.

he’d be the type of lover to make sure he always got you flowers after being away for an extended period of time. “here darling, i got these for you. i hope you like ‘em.” he said with a slight hesitance in his words. despite being with him for months now, he still worried what you though about him.

“oh arthur, i love them. you’re so sweet.” you took them from his hands, quickly wrapping her arms around him and kissing him softly.

AND HIS KISSES?!? AHHH. he’s such a sweet kisser. well; he can be. he has experience, we know that for a fact. but he’s so soft with his movements. a hand on your waist, another on your cheek to feel the heat radiating.

and i’m ONLY talking about high honor arthur. i’m sorry low honor arthur girl; i can’t.

he’d be an old romantic forever. writing you sweet notes in his pretty handwriting, attached to a drawing of you, or a book he’d think you’d enjoy, anything sweet like that.

AND he REMEMBERS. THE. LITTLE. THINGS.

favorite color? he’s writing it down. your favorite scent? he’s looking for it nearly everywhere! it’s so sweet, you’re not even sure how you got so lucky.

a/n: i was fr rambling but i just love him so much! im sorry for my wlw followers but i just had to(maybe some of you might enjoy this hehe)

#arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader

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cowboydisaster · 11 months

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Hey could you write a little fic about Arthur hearing fem reader crying and comforting her? Really pile up the fluff if you decide to write please 🩷🩷 love your stuff so much xxx

A Shoulder to Cry on

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 1000

a/n: Thank you for this sweet prompt, nonny! I was looking to write some fluff and this was perfect.

beta read by @margowritesthings

You feel foolish for even crying, but you can't bring yourself to stop the glistening tears from streaming down your face. You’re petrified, miles away from your former camp, stuck up in the Grizzlies. The Pinkertons are on your tail like a cat on a mouse, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they inevitably catch you. Your time is running out. You’ve had a good run with the van der Linde gang, but it’s time is nigh on done. It's a daunting realization, especially after losing so many folks back in Blackwater.

Because of your position in the gang, you’ve been given your own bedroom in the same cabin as Arthur, Dutch and Hosea. It's a cold room, but better than what most of the gang have. The wind whistles outside as thick snowflakes land on the roof, causing ice cold water to drip repetitively from the ceiling above. The wind and the leak intertwine with your cries, forming a sad, sad song.

You sit on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest, sobbing into them with no sign of stopping. You try to keep quiet as your breathing comes in shudders, and your shoulders shake violently. There is an ache in your ribs from the sobs erupting from your chest, but it pales in comparison to the ache in your heart. You hiccup, catching your breath, and unknowingly alerting Arthur who is walking by to catch some shut eye.

With his eyebrows pulled together in worry, he gently nudges your door open. You don’t even look up, and he stands in the doorway for a moment, glancing over your curled up, crumbling form. Of course, he knows what's wrong, and his heart shatters at the sight of you looking so broken. His heart– it’s been longing for your own for so long, and seeing you like this breaks him.

“Oh, darlin…” He murmurs, stepping forward in only a few strides. You hear his boots clicking against the floor before the bed dips under his weight, and then his big, warm arms are around you.

“I'm so sorry.” He whispers.

There’s something about his arms around you. They are sturdy and unmoving, and yet piece by piece, they begin to build your broken heart back together. There’s so much safety and comfort in his arms, you’re sure that he could protect you even from the storms raging in the Grizzlies with his hugs. You wrap your arms under his, hands on his back as you sniffle and cry into his shirt.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Arthur asks quietly, swaying you lightly in his arms as he shields you from your pain and the cold. Arthur doesn’t push you. He knows exactly how you feel, and opening up about these things is far from easy in his own experience. The gang– it’s coming to an end, and you both know it. Now you just have to find a way to exit peacefully, hopefully taking those that you love with you.

"Shh, shh. You're okay." He coos, tucking your head under his chin.

Arthur is radiating with warmth, and you feel the frostbite leaving your nose as you nuzzle into his chest. His thumb reaches up to wipe away a fresh tear as he frowns lightly at the sight of you so upset. Your skin is soft against Arthur’s calloused hand, and your eyes slip closed as you savor the feeling of his touch.

“I’m scared, Arthur.” You admit, lip trembling as silent tears slide down your frozen cheeks.

“I know you are, I know, but I will get you out of this mess. I promise you.” Arthur swears, resting back against the headboard as his mind runs rampant. He can’t let you die for this gang, and he’ll get you out safely if it's the last thing he does.

“You just rest now, alright? You don’t gotta worry no more. I gotcha now.” Arthur murmurs, laying down with you nuzzled into his side. You cuddle against him as tightly as you can manage, placing your head on his chest as you nod your head. For the first time since Blackwater, the trails of tears from your reddened eyes cease.

Arthur’s hand runs soothingly up and down your back as he makes sure you’re comfortable and taking deep breaths. He wishes he could take this pain away from you, but he knows he can't. All he can do is hold you.

Your eyes slip shut as you nuzzle against his blue wool coat, your cries dying down to soft sniffles.

"Feelin' any better?" Arthur asks, watching as your breathing settles back to normal. Your cheeks are red from the cold, and your lashes stick together from sticky tears. Arthur pulls the blankets up over the two of you, not wanting you to catch a cold.

"I am now that you’re here." You whisper, feeling a heavy tiredness fall over you. Arthur is so comfortable, and you feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms. Arthur can tell you're drifting off, and he wraps his arms around you tighter for it.

"It's okay, get some sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." Arthur murmurs. Seeking more of his comfort, and taking another step towards telling him how you feel, you unwrap one of his arms from your body. Arthur's eyebrows pull together, and at first he's worried that he's crossed a line until you intertwine your fingers with his own and hold your joined hands against his chest.

Arthur smiles down at your hands, watching your face relax as you finally drift to sleep. He'll hold you the rest of the night, making sure you're okay.

"I'll get you outta this mess." He reiterates, "If it's the last thing I do, I won't let you die for these fools."

He hopes that you'll go with him, run away to some place far. Arthur's never been one to daydream of pleasantries, but you make him want a home, a family. He'd leave the gang for you, he'd buy a home and work an honest job just so he could come home to you. He'd make you proud.

But for now, all he can do is hold you, comfort you from the storm outside alongside the one raging in your mind. Now the only sounds in the room are the leaking roof and your light snores as you take comfort in the first safety you've felt in days. Arthur will always be that comfort for you.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption two #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan fluff

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cowboyfromh3ll · 6 months

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i kindly request for a headcanons of arthur when he falls in love with reader?? (if u haven't done it before) - 🎀

HC For Arthur Falling In Love

Arthur would be the sweetest guy ever

He's already a generally kind man, but he'd be extra sweet to you

Constantly asks how you are and how your days going

Lets you go on and on about every mundane detail of your day

Lays down next to you as you work and just listens to you talk

Brings you little trinkets from his trips away from camp

When he falls in love he falls in love HARD, like he's whipped

Got himself a little mirror to check his appearance before he approaches you

Thinks it's a little silly. He'd stop in the middle of adjusting his hair and collar and goes "what am I doing"

Still keeps fixing himself up though

I can imagine he'd even ask Hosea for some advice

Given his dating history he'd be super nervous and wouldn't wanna mess this up with you

Asks you if you'd like to ride with him (not that way)

It can be that way if you want it to tho

Anyways

Tells you you look lovely

Tries to offer you simple compliments but ends up over complicating them and goes into detail about how nice the length and texture of your hair is

Gets super embarrassed and over analyzes how he acted around you but is relieved to find out you liked his compliments

His heart beat goes crazy when you're close to him

If you hold onto his arm? Oh bro he has to calm himself from shaking

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #writing #van der linde gang x reader #red dead fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur Morgan hc #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x reader fluff

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simonsomeriley · 3 months

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fwb with arthur morgan..

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet every time you come around, he feels his heart hammer in his chest and his face gets all red

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he holds you like you'll disappear whenever you get hurt or you've been away for a long time

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet the way he kisses you at night by a bonfire, sitting all alone with him and your hands gripping his neck keeps you awake for nights after

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he keeps you tucked under his arm the nights you're together, feeling his breath in your hair and his arm around your waist with your legs tangled with his

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet the way he kisses you like it's the last time makes you feel like he is. every kiss is so passionate, you'll tangle your hands in his hair and he keeps you close, his hands

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he always requests your cooking, you make him all the food he wants, he gathers you fresh ingredients and you cook him up something to keep him fuelled for the day, he'll eat up everything you cook

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet you yearn for him when he's away. every hour without him you'll sit anxiously wondering if he's okay, if anything's happened or when he'll come back to you. the reuniting kiss always makes it worth it, longing for his scent after it slowly and eventually fades from his pillow

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he keeps coming back to you. you watch the ladies leave his room by the morning time, always wondering if one day he wanted to keep one for himself. he never meets those ladies again, considering it a one-time thing, yet you keep making your way back to him over and over again

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet he's so defensive when your name gets mentioned. talking to a group of gals who happen to have noticed how close you are with arthur? if they even THINK about talking dirt to your name or calling you a whore for it, he'll never ever let anyone make up false accusations about you

arthur morgan is not your boyfriend, yet you wish he was. you wish and you wish every night, yet all you do is keep each other on your toes and hold each other tighter at night than friends do

i do apologize if this seems a little rushed bc it was 🥲 i'll always make time for arthur tho🫶

#simonsomeriley #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan headcanons #fwb!arthur morgan

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 1 month

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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.

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'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.'

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obsessivelullabies · 2 months

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arthur giving you flowers.

arthur had never been much of a romantic. his gifts for you, his lovely spouse, were usually small trinkets he’d found when he went out.

when he saw the gorgeous flowers, your favorite color, he immediately thought about you and your pretty face. he carefully cut them from the ground, trying his best to not ruin their stems or petals.

arthur brought them back from his trip, immediately noticing you as he got back. he admired you for a moment. he knew he was whipped as his heart swelled.

arthur approached you, getting your attention and bringing out the flowers. “for you,” he announced.

your sweet reaction made it all worth it for him. he expects to be rewarded with some kisses. “anything for you.” he mumbled against your lips.

i’ve never written for rdr2, i just started playing the game so sorry if i’m writing him wrong

masterlist. | reblogs and comments appreciated.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #husband arthur morgan #gender neutral reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur fluff #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x female reader

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moonxknightx · 9 days

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𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 --- Arthur Morgan x F!Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 --- Fluff :) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 --- RDR ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 --- None! Established Relationship ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 --- You and Arthur take a day for yourselves after working your asses off for the gang.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT THERE DARLIN’?” Asked Arthur while looking over his shoulder to see you leaning against his back while your arms are around his waist.

“Mhm i’m fine.” You murmured while nuzzling even closer against Arthur’s back.

Arthur chuckled while turning back to focus on the road, leading his horse along the small sand path in front of him.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked after a while. “Yes honey.” You smiled softly while looking over Arthur’s shoulder to see where you were currently riding.

“Are we almost there?” You asked, making Arthur chuckle. “Almost sweetheart.” He smiled while shaking his heart slightly.

“Always so impatient.” Murmured Arthur under his breath. “Hey i heard that.” You scoffed while playfully hitting his back.

“Oh i’m sorry ma’am.” Joked Arthur while giving your hands which were still around his waist, a little squeeze.

You and Arthur were currently on your way to one of your favorite hangout spots on his horse. After both of you worked your asses off for the gang for the past couple of weeks, you two realized it was time the two of you relaxed a little. Especially after it’s been a month of having any quality time with one another.

So, when Dutch decided to give you both a day off, you and Arthur almost immediately decided to go out of camp to a small lake nearby, to just relax with one another.

You were responsible for the food and Arthur was responsible for well…just getting the two of you to the lake.

Before the two of you left this morning, you packed a small lunch basket with various sorts of snacks, strawberries, bread, chocolate, two slices of cake, some candy and a bottle of wine. You also grabbed a blanket for you and Arthur to sit on. This day was going to be perfect. You were sure of it.

Arthur hummed a nice little melody while turning the horse to his right, leading you two towards the lake which was in fact, already in front of you.

“We’re here hon.” Arthur said while his horse came to a halt. “Really?” Your excited voice spoke from behind his back.

You looked over Arthur’s shoulder to see a beautiful blue lake with tall grass and flowers around it.

“It’s beautiful.” You sighed happily while trying to get off Arthur’s horse. “Hey!” Arthur said while quickly wrapping his arm around your waist, helping you down.

“Thank you.” You smiled sheepishly before twirling around, appreciating the beautiful view and sunny weather.

Arthur could not help but smile while looking at you. You looked absolutely beautiful. He would look at you for days if he could.

“Are you coming cowboy?” You smiled while grabbing the lunch basket. “Yeah i’m coming.” Chuckled Arthur while sliding down his horse.

“Let me get that for you.” He smiled while taking the basket from your grip. Arthur held the basket in his left hand and took hold of your hand with the other.

Together, the two of you walked towards the tall grass near the lake. You soon found the perfect place to settle and grabbed the blanket out of the basket. Arthur watched how you splayed the blanket on the grass before settling down on it.

“What are you waiting for?” You smiled, noticing how Arthur was staring at you. Arthur was quickly pulled back to reality by your voice and cleared his throat. He carefully put the basket down before sitting down himself.

“I missed this.” You murmured while shuffling closer to Arthur. “Me too.” Arthur sighed softly while spreading his legs so you could sit between them.

Soon you were settled between Arthur’s legs while leaning against his chest. “You look beautiful today darlin’.” Arthur complimented before kissing your cheek.

“Thank you honey. You look quite good yourself.” You smiled slightly. Arthur rolled his eyes playfully. He was never really good at accepting any kind of compliment or praise, so usually he just rolled his eyes at the comments or pretended to not hear them.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Mister Morgan.” You laughed while pointing your chin towards the sky so you could look at your man.

Arthur’s lips curled up in a shy smile before leaning down to place a small peck on your lips.

“I love you Arthur Morgan.” You sighed happily, making Arthur blush. “And i love you sweetheart.” He smiled while tracing your skin.

“We should do this more often.” You said while staring ahead of you, enjoying the sun. “If only Dutch would let us.” Arthur mumbled, reaching for the basket.

You watched how he opened the basket and pulled out the first snack, Strawberries.

“You want one ma’am?” Arthur smiled down at you. You nodded excitedly and watched how Arthur opened the small box which contained the fruit.

Arthur fetched a strawberry from the box and held in front of you. He watched how you took a bite from it before quickly popping the other half in his own mouth.

“Hey!” You called while turning around to face Arthur. “What is the problem miss?” Arthur smirked while looking at you.

“That was mine.” You said while putting on your best pouting face. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh before grabbing his cowboy hat from his head to place it on your head.

“Adorable.” Arthur gave you a wink, causing you to roll your eyes before lunging forward, wrapping your arms around his neck while Arthur pulled you onto his lap.

“You want more strawberries?” Arthur asked, stroking your back while you completely relaxed. “Yes.”

Artur smiled while grabbing another strawberry. He held in front of your mouth and in no time, the strawberry was gone. “It is so good.” You sighed while Arthur popped one into his own mouth.

“I agree.” Arthur replied before rummaging through the other contents of the basket.

“What do you want now?” Arthur asked while you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Cake?” Your sweet voice said. “An amazing choice.” Chuckled Arthur, grabbing the two pieces of cake out of the basket.

“I think i ate too much darlin’.” Grunted Arthur while looking up at the beautiful blue sky. The two of you were currently lying down on the blanket, Arthur on his back and you on your side with one leg swung over Arthur’s waist.

“You think so?” You smiled while gently touching Arthur’s cheek. Arthur grunted again, tightening his grip on your body while closing his eyes.

“You did eat a lot honey.” You almost whispered. Arthur opened his eyes just to roll them, causing you to scoff.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me mister!” You said while nudging his shoulder. “Oh I apologize ma’am.” Arthur chuckled. He moved his hands down to your hips and lifted you easily onto his lap.

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Just admiring the presence of the other. God you loved spending time with Arthur. He always made you feel so relaxed and happy.

“What are you thinkin’ about mhm?” Arthur’s low voice spoke. A small smile crept onto your face while shrugging. “Just happy to be here with you.”

Arthur’s lips moved up in a smile before pulling you down so he could kiss you. The moment your lips touched his, you wrapped your hands around his neck to pull him closer if that was even possible. Arthur chuckled against your lips before moving both of your bodies up, so he was sitting on the blanket with you still on his lap.

“I love you sweetheart.” Mumbled Arthur against your lips. You pulled away from his touch and gently moved your hand through his hair. “I love you too cowboy.”

Arthur couldn’t help but laugh before he used his strength to get back to his feet with you still wrapped around him.

“Arthur what are you doing?” You asked, noticing Arthur was moving towards the lake. “Nothin’.” He smirked while kicking off his boots on the grass.

“Arthur…” You warned slowly. Arthur just ignored you and took your boots off as well, throwing them next to his.

“You are not going to throw me in there, Morgan.” You warned again. Arthur just smiled while his feet came in contact with the blue water.

“Arthur i’m wearing clothes!” You tried to stop him from doing whatever he was trying to do, but it didn’t help.

“I have spare clothes in my satchel.” Arthur murmured while stepping deeper into the waist.

“Yeah for you! Not for me.” You said immediately. “Then you will wear some of my clothes okay? I know you like wearing them.” Arthur chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and embraced yourself for the feeling of the cold water against your skin.

“Are you ready girl?” Arthur asked with a sly smile on his face. You shook your head, causing Arthur to laugh.

Within seconds both of your bodies were completely in the lake, and both of your clothes completely drained.

“I hate you!” You hissed, feeling the cold water against your skin while swimming away from Arthur, splashing some water onto his face.

“Hey get back here!” Arthur laughed, quickly swimming after you. “We could’ve at last taken off our clothes.” You said once Arthur caught up with you.

“Now where is the fun in that?” Arthur teased while wrapping his arms around your waist while you wrapped you legs around his.

“You are going to pay for my new clothes.” You said, trying to sound angry. Unfortunately you failed miserably as a small smile appeared on your face.

“Or darlin’, you could just let them dry.” Arthur smiled while holding up his shoulders. “Mhm i like the other option better, Morgan.” You smiled.

Arthur made an “ah” noise before leaning down to kiss you. “Then i will buy some new clothes, okay?” Arthur asked while giving your hips a little squeeze. You hummed, resting your chin on Arthur’s shoulder.

“I like spending quality time with you.” You murmured. Arthur’s lips curled up in a smile while he softly patted your back. “Me too sweetheart, me too.”

“If only Dutch would give it to us more.” You sighed. Arthur sighed while looking across the water. One day you and him will leave the gang, leave all the criminality and other things behind to start a normal life somewhere else. Maybe in a small house near town, or maybe a cabin in the forest? Or near a lake? It didn’t matter to Arthur. The only thing that truly mattered to him was getting you and him out of here before it was to late. And he was certainly that he would succeed at that.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #read dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan

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rivetingrosie4 · 27 days

Text

What a Life (Morgan & Family: A Fluff Dump, Pt. 2)

credit to @foundynnel i believe for 2 of the edits above

𑁦𐂂𑁦

Summary: Part of a modern au (and post gang) fluff dump work. Just a scene in which Arthur and reader enjoy secluded family life with their very young son. Arthur is a cute and loving dad and is adored by reader.

Tags: fluff without plot, family fluff, romantic fluff, domestic setting, parenthood

Word count: 2,660

In the cool shadow of the cabin, thrown long by the late morning sun, you sit with your little son, watching him play in the sandbox. The mourning dove’s rounded, plaintive hoots are parried by the sharp, tinkling warbles of goldfinches in the nearby pine branches, and the fragrances of crisp mist and thick sod linger in the mountain air.

You watch the faint glimmer of day paint the crests of Gabriel’s cupid’s bow with light, his plump lips resting between his two rotund cheeks as he concentrates on the toys before him. The wispy feathers of his splayed lashes bow and rise with each blink. His beautiful, shimmering eyes inspect each toy, each color, each shape. Out of all the blocks, large puzzle pieces, rings, balls, and animal toys half-buried in the sand, he has landed on one. You watch the bulbous pads and segments of each tiny, clumsy finger curl to a strong, stable grasp around the edge of the object of his aim—a large block with an Appaloosa sketched and painted lovingly on the side.

“Just like your daddy,” you whisper to yourself.

Dipping your fingers into the sand and feeling its chill envelop your skin, you look up with a smile to gaze in the direction of the stables. In the distance, you catch sight of Arthur hauling a huge saddle and its accompanying tack, a moment before he disappears through the door and into the shaded interior.

You recall the quiet rustling of his rising this morning when he’d been up before the sun, as he often is. And the way he’d kept from waking the baby in his room, intentionally leaving you to reap the reward of your son’s customary gleeful smile, his bounce in his crib, and his lifting of his arms for you.

You turn back to your eleven-month-old with a burgeoning smirk. “Wanna come help Mama make some sourdough?”

“Yeah,” he immediately chirps, recognizing nothing but the lilt of a question in your voice. But he doesn’t look up at you, still captured by the blocks and puzzle pieces.

You stand and take a few steps away to prompt him. “Well let’s go!” you call.

He braces himself on the sand with his palms, a moment later lifting his tush into the air. When he straightens, his brows knot, and his lips dangle from between his cheeks as he gazes down confoundedly at the discomfort of sand stuck to his flesh.

You snort a laugh as you cover the sandbox behind him. “Just go like this, Gabe Baby.”

You show him your flattened hands and slowly brush them together.

His brows don’t budge as he looks back and forth from your hands to his own, unable to fully brush them.

“Like this,” you whisper, gently taking his wrists and swiftly brushing his palms back and forth over each other.

When the sand is removed, he toddles to follow you up towards the cabin, and you carry him when you reach the oak staircase to the back door.

As you turn onto the wraparound porch, you notice Arthur now hefting a huge bale of hay by its cords into the stable, his black leather hat shading most of his face in the distance. But you like to imagine he wears a subconscious smile, now enjoying a life of simplicity, filled with nature and horses and art and family and love, tucked away from the gnarled heartache that gang life had left in its wake.

“Sandy baby,” you mumble when you arrive inside and close the back door behind you.

You promptly remove both your shoes and strip Gabriel to his diaper, tossing his sandy clothes into the hamper.

“Are you dry?” you ask vainly as he starts to toddle away. “Wait, are you dry?” You deftly hook a finger down his back and into his diaper before he can fully get away.

Peering into his diaper, you find no present. You carefully squeeze his bottom to discover no liquid deposit.

When you release him, he immediately darts down the hall. You follow and walk into the kitchen, beckoning him to join you. When he does and you bend to pick him up, he whines to be allowed to remain standing on his own.

“Well how’re you gonna see from down there?” you lightly ask.

When he shakes his head, you half-frown. It was just a couple weeks ago that eleven-month-old Gabriel began walking. Since then, he’s always wriggling out of your arms and dashing across rooms, seemingly already excited to be as independent as he can be.

At first, it stung. With the love and special intimacy of mother and son—and with even the chemistry and well-being of your bodies both dependent on the other—the two of you had been closer than peas in a pod, glued at the hip for so long. It’s always been and still is a precious bond to you, though its daily aspects continue to gradually change. And it was hard to so suddenly feel a little unneeded. But Arthur has helped you find a comfort in the balance of realizing that your feelings are only natural, and that you’ve been raising a wonderful and healthy little boy, with this change as just another bit of proof.

As well as the fact that Gabriel still likes to cherry-pick when he’s carried and when he walks on his own. You suspect that like any human, his adamant desire for independence doesn’t do one thing to hinder his deep enjoyment and fierce need of being held.

So you turn and begin pulling ingredients and dishes from the cupboard, at last going to the fridge to retrieve your sourdough starter. You begin mixing ingredients in your big bowl atop the counter, when you hear a whimper and feel a few hard tugs at your palazzos. And you smirk.

You glance down to find him with arms outstretched and upheld for you, bouncing on his tiptoes with longing. You stoop and lift him to you, hugging him to your hip and pressing a few kisses soundly to his smooth cheek.

Describing each action aloud to him, you finish mixing, dust the countertop with copious amounts of flour, and turn the bowl with your free hand to dump the dough.

“Now we knead,” you almost sing, in hushed tones.

Perched on your hip, his plump little arm drapes with familiarity and utmost contentedness over the back of your shoulder. He watches your every gesture with a mixture of restful curiosity and heightened interest.

You push the dough away and pull it towards you again and again, tucking the edges underneath as you do, to form a smooth, rounded surface on top.

“You wanna feel it? You wanna knead?” you ask.

Leaning forward, you let him reach and press his tiny hand into the supple surface of the cool dough.

“Gentle,” you say, showing him the way you keep your fingers outstretched and softly brush and pat the surface of the dough with the pads of your fingertips. “No squeezing.”

The two of you watch his little fingers delve into the pliant mass of dough, leaving a mark of small craters. When they begin to slowly bounce back, you watch his face instead of the dough.

He releases a single cooed sigh of delight as he looks at you with a bright smile, which you heartily return.

How you love, you love, you love him.

You sprinkle the dough with flour and rest it in a basket for its turn to prove. After fetching a dough you’d left proving hours before, you carefully score it with one long slice for expansion, and several small strokes for a quaint wheat kernel design on the other side.

“Mama.” Gabriel pats your sternum and rests a couple fingers past his lips.

“You hungry?” you ask.

When he nods, you brush a hand down the slope of the back of his head and kiss his temple. You add as you set him to his feet, “Let me get this in the oven, then I’ll feed you.”

After setting the parchment-papered sourdough in its cast iron dutch oven and pouring a bain marie past the paper, you place the whole thing in the oven and set a timer. You glance at the oven window with a small smile, eager to see the crispy crust on your extra-sour boule. Since you first noticed its resemblance to Gabriel’s tummy, you’ve made a tradition of kissing the top of the boule, then indelicately turning Gabriel sideways in your arms and blowing a raspberry on his bare belly, making him cackle hysterically. These days, he’s even begun giggling when you turn him in your arms and before you ever kiss his belly, already tickled by the anticipation alone.

With Gabriel in tow, you walk to the couch in the living room. Gabriel rests both arms over the seat cushion and tries to lift one leg up over the edge, but you reach your hands under his arms and pull him into your lap.

Just before you unhook your bra from its strap to nurse, the two of you hear the back door open.

Gabriel’s eyes widen, and a grin begins to pull on the corners of his mouth. “Da,” he says.

He wiggles down off the couch, and as he toddles down the hall, you listen to his bare little feet patting quietly along the hardwood floor. You smile to yourself at the precious sound, so deeply dear to you.

As you hear Arthur’s rustling, jingling presence in the doorway and the naturally firm, heavy footfalls of his work boots, you imagine him resting his black hat on the wall as his small son comes around the corner in only his diaper, bared rounded belly and all.

When you hear the playful growl and the resultant squeal and cackle, your grin splits wider.

“You’re in your nethers, baby boah!”

You can detect the pinch of a smile in Arthur’s voice and the breath of laughter with the last couple words.

More little pads of bare feet as Gabriel comes running back around the corner and down the hall. He hesitates as he toddles, turning back to ensure Arthur’s tailing, eager to play this game with his father.

Still, when Arthur leans around the corner and pulls an exaggeratedly silly face with an outright grunt, Gabriel’s little body gives a tiny jump. His squeal and adorable laughter ring out into the air. He clumsily darts into the kitchen.

When his father follows with a few long strides and the sturdy clops of his boots, he brings with him the musty scents of alfalfa hay and tanned rawhide, of trail dust and undiluted sunshine. And the two subsequently begin an elaborate game of peek-a-boo, back and forth around the island. You can’t help but laugh along at the purest sound of undiluted joy—the beauty and innocence of your own child so easily tickled and contented by life and love—as you turn on the couch and watch the pair. No matter how many times Arthur jumps out to stop him with a silly face and a low hoot or growl, Gabriel instantly screams and squeals, his body utterly racked with tightly coiled cackles.

Arthur wheezes and snickers every time.

“Oh my God, listen to him!” you laugh.

It’s always another several seconds before Gabriel totally recovers and manages to catch his breath, his laughter smoothing with each heave of air.

With the next turn of their game, Arthur lingers behind the island when Gabriel rounds it, not jumping out even when his son takes reticent steps forward, looking for him. Arthur continues to linger, even quietly backing up to hide himself, watching his son for the right moment to strike.

Finally Arthur leaps out, and Gabriel jumps with the highest squeal and loudest cackles you’ve heard yet.

You and Arthur both burst with your own laughter at his reaction.

When your son’s breathing finally evens, you call, “Gabriel, I thought you were hungry?”

“Oh, were you about to eat, son?” Arthur asks in his deep timbre. “You hungry?”

Gabriel nods and pats a hand to his belly above the rim of his diaper.

“Well, better go see Mama,” Arthur quietly grunts as he picks his son up by the underarms and sets him on his hip out of habit. Arthur lifts him over the couch back and sets him down into your lap, then remains behind the couch himself, watching over your shoulder.

After cushioning your back and adjusting him in your arms, you reach beneath your tee, unhook the front of your bra, and gently bring Gabriel to your breast to nurse. He latches on immediately, very well accustomed to your routine. A certain profound peace washes over you as you watch him. His lips flange around you as he suckles; his quiet breaths through his nose briefly pause each time he swallows; and his plump little arm rests wistfully over your chest.

Many people may look away, abashed and discomfited, unable to fit something at once both so innocent and intimate into their world. But it’s always made perfect sense to you. And maybe motherhood was a dream too quaint, one not rebellious or modern enough, seemingly not daring or adventurous enough. But it was your dream.

When Gabriel spots Arthur’s face over your shoulder, he pulls away from your breast with a growingly wry grin, clearly expecting to continue the game from moments ago. Droplets of your milk spill between you and his mouth as he voices a syllable and lifts his arm, attempting to goad Arthur into another silly face.

Arthur silently complies with cross-eyes and a sideways tongue.

Gabriel promptly giggles, and the two of you smile and chuckle at the sound.

“Don’t while he’s nursing, he’ll choke,” you lightly say.

After softly cooing and corralling Gabriel back to his feeding, you continue watching him with a contented smile. You brush your hand down over the back of his head, into the growing downy hair that curls funnily at the base of his neck. As he closes his eyes, you brush the backs of your curled fingers down over his temple, and gently trail your fingertips across the velvet flower-petal skin of his plump baby cheek.

You hear the long, relaxed sound of Arthur’s husky breath over your shoulder, a sound you know very well, especially these days.

“What a life, huh?” he quietly says.

He means to facetiously point out Gabriel’s current lot—nursing at his mother’s breast with his father at the ready to make him smile and laugh. That is, a life full of love and joy, well taken care of, and absent of a care in the world. Just as he should be for now.

It doesn’t take you a few moments, and you’re turning to look into Arthur’s cerulean-sage eyes. A knowingness resides in your gaze. Because you yourself, as well as your husband, have been given all you’d so deeply and totally longed for—and longed, a word too weak—more than you could’ve ever imagined you’d actually live to get.

“Yeah,” you quietly, pensively respond. “What a life.”

The love of your life holds your gaze, and understands.

Your love and gratefulness are immeasurable and uncontainable, filling you and stretching past the bounds of your body and being, like fragmented granules of glittering dust floating from a burst star.

Strangely enough, even with all the joy and contentment and peace, the words and the shared gaze are not without a mingling of loss and ache.

They are not gone entirely. But you both have someone now, to join you in weathering them.

You are not alone.

Arthur leans to you, and you share a few kisses, soft as breath. You turn and close your eyes a moment as he rests his forehead to your temple. And you both gaze down at your son with contented smiles.

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emmcfrxst · 1 day

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I WANNA CUDDLE ARTHUR SO BAD RN UGH IM :( i cant recall if u've answered smth similar before but what do u think is his fav way of holding u while cuddling........

he loves any position that allows him to bury his face in your hair— he loves to smell it, your scent brings him so much comfort and makes him feel at ease and most importantly at home— so he definitely loves to spoon you, one hand resting on your belly as he softly speaks into your ear and massages your hips/waist with his free hand; but he also loves it when you lay your head on his chest, pressing tender kisses across his sternum and falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat— because his heart beats for you and you alone

he does like other positions he’s really not picky at all when it comes to holding you because he considers himself to be the luckiest man alive to be able to call you his and have you sleep into his arms every night <3

#a1yaaaa #answered #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead redemption 2 fluff

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margowritesthings · 10 months

Text

RED DEAD REDEMPTION

⥽SERIES/UNIVERSES⥼

➵ Romeo and Juliet smut, 18+, you're an O'Driscoll, who has captured the attention of one Arthur Morgan

➵The Meaning of the Scar crossover, the tales that take place after Arthur Morgan's death, when he becomes an undead Hand of God, hunting down the supernatural

➵ Te Beroya star wars au, mandalorian!bountyhunter!Arthur, you're an outlaw, on the run across the galaxy from powerful crime families. the bounty hunter Arthur Morgan is after you.

➵ The Greatest Gift fluff, smut, some parts 18+, you give Arthur the greatest gift he could receive: his daughter

➵ Mob AU smut, 18+, Alternate Universe, Arthur Morgan runs a club in the city of Saint Denis, you're the wife he is absolutely devoted to

⥽STANDALONES⥼

➵ Good Girl - part 1 | part 2 smut, 18+, you're riding with Arthur, never realising just how peculiar he speaks to his horse

➵ Bite Me smut, 18+, vampire AU, Arthur needs to feed, but you're trapped, and it's just the two of you...

➵ Fate: A Word Meaning Destiny angst, fluff, smut, 18+, you're a ranch hand, whose home is under attack from bandits. a mysterious stranger saves your life

➵ What's Mine Is Mine suggestive smuttiness, someone is hitting on you at the bar and Arthur must make sure everyone knows you're his

➵ Ghosts and Smoke angst, following your journey to say a final goodbye to Arthur

➵ A Job Well Done smut, 18+, when Arthur returns home from a job, you just have to reward him for doing such good work

➵ ...For They Shall Obtain Mercy angst, collab with @cowboydisaster, after your death, Arthur is diagnosed with tuberculosis. he can't wait to see you again.

➵ The Way I See You smut, fluff, 18+, Arthur helps you get past your insecurities

➵ Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? fluff, you and Arthur decide to be honest about your secret relationship

➵ A Bit of a Mess fluff, slight angst, you and Arthur bake cookies

➵ The Long Night fluff, modern AU, when your dog is taken to the vets, Arthur is right by your side

➵ Some Company smut, 18+, a few weeks after you join the gang, you share a sleepless night with the enforcer who saved you

➵ Mr and Mrs Macintosh fluff, you and your new husband check into the saloon for your wedding night

➵ Blood On His Hands smut, 18+, it's your time of the month, but Dutch has some insights from a Mr. Evelyn Miller to share with you

➵ Vedova Nera smut, 18+, you're a hired assassin, and eliminating Dutch van der Linde is your next assignment

#navigation #masterlist #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fluff #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #dutch van der linde x y/n #rdr2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #dutch van der linde fanfic

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mlmxreader · 5 months

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Don't You Shiver | Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ you already know what’s up. arthur morgan x gn!reader

"Do you want your hoodie back?" "Keep it. It's yours."

but instead of hoodie it’s one of arthur’s jackets? pls and thank u mwah mwah ^_^ - @mockerycrow ❞

: ̗̀➛ Arthur cares a lot about you, so it's no surprise that he does what he can to help when you come back to camp less than happy.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, smoking

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Your hands smelled of cheap cigarettes and whisky as you wandered back into camp behind Charles, a little bit embarrassed that you had wasted his time on fool's gold.

You thought it had been a perfectly good lead at the time, and with Charles’ skills complimenting your own, you figured that the two of you would have had it done and dusted by noon the same day. But now it was dusk, you were shivering, and you felt like an idiot.

You kept your head down and your gaze on the ground, not even trying to talk to Charles even though he reassured you time and time again that he didn't mind - he enjoyed the nice day out with you.

It wasn't often that the two of you had much time to spend together despite your strong friendship, and even though you had been an idiot… you did admit, you appreciated his company at the very least.

Before he left you for the evening, Charles pulled you aside, and once again told you that he didn't mind; it happened, sometimes leads didn't work out and even he had had his fair share of bad luck here and there. He wasn't going to hold it against you.

However, you felt terrible when you snuck into Arthur's tent, going through your clothes as he sat on his cot and watched you for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side.

It wasn't until he saw you shiver that he put two and two together and frowned; he got up and grabbed his semi-decent brown hunting jacket, and gently pressed it into your hands as he smiled.

“It's warm,” he told you quietly. “It'll help.”

You tugged it on, pressing your face against the collar of the coat for a moment and humming under your breath; you were always stealing Arthur's clothes, if you were honest, but he never minded.

He liked to see you wearing them, mostly because he knew that most of his coats were a lot warmer and a lot better for cold climates than your own. But he also… admittedly, he liked to think that everyone would realise that it was his jackets, and they would know that you and Arthur belonged to one another as well and that they couldn't do anything.

He ushered you out of the tent and over to the scout fire, letting you sit with your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder, his arms around you tightly. He hoped that it would aid in warming you up, maybe even speed the process a little bit.

You didn’t even flinch, leaning into him and doing your best to steal some of his warmth as you sighed and swallowed thickly; you brought the thick brown leather to your face, pressing it against your mouth and nose and inhaling the scent for a moment as you closed your eyes.

You were a little warmer now, but you still couldn’t shake the icy feeling deep within your bones and in your shaking hands as you grumbled softly and shook your head.

Arthur turned to look at you, frowning as he gently tugged you a little closer. “I’ll get you some coffee and-”

“Wait,” you murmured softly, almost under your breath as you tugged at the sleeve of his blue denim-coloured shirt. “I don’t wanna be alone in the cold.”

He sighed, nodding as he settled back down; he did his best to think of a few ways to get you to warm up, but unfortunately for him, all of them would mean leaving you, and you didn’t seem so keen on the idea.

So he pulled out two cigarettes, lighting them before handing one to you and doing his best not to smile at how you tried to get closer to him, almost straddling his waist as you squirmed. He grumbled, his grip on you tightening as he kept your back steady against his chest and shook his head.

You stopped shivering eventually, pulling away from him so that you could shrug the jacket off, holding it in your hands as the flames seemed to follow you wherever you went.

“Do you want your jacket back?”

“Keep it. It’s yours, now,” Arthur told you with a short shake of his head. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled, a glint of something mischievous in your eyes. “You say that about everything of yours that I borrow.”

He shrugged, leaning back slightly to get a good look at you; with the flames so close, Arthur could have sworn that you looked just like something out of an old folktale.

A great, fair king; beloved by his people and as just as he was humble. He wanted to grin and to laugh at the thought, but he could only hum as he pulled out his journal and held it up for you to look at for a moment.

“Mind if I…”

You shook your head. “Not at all, where’d you want me?”

Arthur balanced his journal on his knee as he looked up at you, the tip of his tongue pointing out of the corner of his mouth. “Just stay there.”

You did as you were told, running your thumb across the lapel of Arthur’s jacket as you stood patiently. You could hear the scratch of his pencil against the paper, and how he hummed under his breath as he stole a look at you every now and then.

It was never uncommon for Arthur to draw you, you caught him doing it often enough that you knew he had pages of it; yet every time he actually asked, every time he told you to stay still so that he could do it, you couldn’t help but to feel rather giddy.

To know that you would forever be immortalised by his fair hand, to know that he loved you to the point of creation. You bit at the inside of your lip, doing your best not to grin in case it spoiled his latest masterpiece.

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saturncodedstarlette · 3 months

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[You & Arthur relaxing in the flower field, with Arthur just admiring you while you’re making flower crowns]

Arthur, staring at you lovingly : You’re one of my favorite people.

Y/N, tilted head : Who are your other favorite people?

Arthur, shrugs : It’s mostly you. Not a big fan of humankind in general.

Dividers credit : @rookthornesartistry 🟠

#Original : Offside by Avery Keelan #Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x you #Arthur Morgan fluff #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption incorrect quotes #Rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #all the pics above except from dividers are from Pinterest #(Pic far left is from @sonotapes from Pinterest)#(Pic in middle is from @wessamh03 from Pinterest)#(Pic far right is from @erskg0 from Pinterest)

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

Your Protector

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: Arthur comes to your rescue while you're being harassed.

a/n: This is technically a reupload from back in November but I added a lot more detail and its now about 1k longer so-- Also this fic was originally a request: "reader getting hit on in a shady alley and Arthur rescuing her"

warnings: gore, blood, violence (not more than game), harassment, basically a gross, greedy man who gets a bit handsy

It’s been ten minutes since Arthur left you in the alley. Nervously, you run your sweaty palms down your jeans and slow your breaths. You couldn’t deny Arthur when he had asked you to scope out this job with him. He made all the plans, crafted a safe and efficient way to get the money with no one getting hurt. And although you trust him, your nerves are still on edge. The other outlaw had caught first wind of this score when helping a passerby on the road in Bayou Nwa. Arthur helped a man with a nasty snake bite, and was gifted a token of information as a payment. Apparently, the Saint Denis gunsmith is running a little underground gambling. Big poker games, with top players, betting more money just on one game than you’ve ever laid eyes on in your life. That tip came about a few weeks ago, and after some sniffing around, Arthur found the information to be true. Tonight, at 8pm, the cards were dealt for the tournament game. The big one.

You pace, nervously glancing down at your silver pocket watch. The time reads just after midnight. These games take hours, if not days, but by now most of the money should be out, and the players should all be here with their riches. Before jogging up the metal staircase and sneaking through a cracked window, Arthur had planted you as a lookout in the alley adjoining the gunsmith. His plan is: sneak in, play the part, and rob the bastards blind. They’ll probably be too wasted on hooch to even notice him slipping away with their life savings. Your job is strictly to keep watch, which Arthur reassured you is a very important job, despite your reservations. You glance at your pocket watch again, seeing that Arthur has now been in there for thirteen minutes. Shoving the watch into your pocket to get rid of the distraction, you glance around the alley. It's dark, and eerie. The pass way is long and narrow, with rotting wooden crates lining the walls and rats that run and squeak, causing you to jump every now and again. Water drips down from the metal overhangs, driving you mad with their constant noise.

Anxiety pools in your gut as the shadows made by the rats and the crates shift, and the walls seem to move in on you. It’s all an illusion of course, but your heart rate picks up as the shadows shift and taunt you. A few times you scare yourself, looking at the shadows for too long until they begin to morph. So, to preserve your sanity, you distract yourself, pulling your cattleman from its holster. You grab a bottle of gun oil and a little rag from your satchel, humming to yourself as you wipe down the barrel of the gun, making sure to get in between the little grooves. Arthur had bought you this gun, and had it engraved with ornate flowers. It’s one of your most dear possessions. You still feel incredibly uneasy, like you’re being watched, followed. But you tell yourself that your mind is just playing tricks on you. You focus on the gun, keeping enough awareness of your surroundings to know if the law is coming. With a satisfied smirk, you hold your gun under the flickering street light, admiring its clean, shiny state. Suddenly the gun is knocked away from your hand, and you gasp, having only a moment to watch it fall onto the cobblestone before whipping around in shock.

A beast of a man, easily over six feet tall with broad shoulders, towers over you, sneering down at you with yellow teeth and breath that reeks of liquor. He scares the hell out of you, and you back away quickly. In one large step backwards, with a loud gasp, your back hits the alley’s brick wall. The man steps forward, sandwiching you between himself and the wall. You feel so sick, so naive right now. When you had agreed to do this job, you’d expected to run into some nasty street kids and oversized rats at the worst, but oh were you wrong. Somehow the other type of vermin roaming Saint Denis had slipped your mind: the men like this one. The men who drink their fill and search the streets for a cheap woman to spend the night with, or any woman to spend the night with. He is the exact type of man you would expect to be at an illegal poker game, with greasy hair, beady eyes, and sharp features that remind you of a predator. Your back is still pressed against the wall, and the man in front of you corners you by bringing a hand to either side of your head on the wall. You’re trapped. You glance down to your cattleman on the street, and damningly realize you can’t reach it. When the man opens his mouth to speak, the acrid, alcoholic smell of his breath makes you gag.

“Say, what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ in these nasty parts of town all by yourself?” His breath is hot on your face, and the smell of his sweat chokes you. You think about screaming for help, but all that would do is tie a noose around Arthur’s neck. Yelling isn’t an option. One of his large hands comes up to your face and he gently caresses your cheek with the back of his index finger. You tear your face away from his touch, fuming. You look angry and tough, but under it all you’re terrified.

“I'm not alone, got a friend in the gunsmith, he should be back any second.” you growl, staring the man right in his colorless eyes. Slowly, he turns his head in both directions, scanning the gunsmith doors and the stairwell that leads to the attic. When he turns his head back to you, there is a sickening grin on it.

“Well, sweet thing, I don’t see anyone… do you?” The man chuckles deeply, threateningly, “It can be real dangerous around here if you ain’t got someone to keep an eye on you…” He snarls, a mock smile on his lips that causes your stomach to flip with disgust. The man leans down, only inches away from your face as you shove your body back against the brick wall, wishing it would swallow you whole.

“The names’ Levi… care to tell me yours, pretty girl?” Levi sneers, eyeing your scowl.

Your eyes are glued to the gunsmith’s side door, silently begging Arthur to return. You know that you can’t fight this man off. He’s much bigger than you, and even in his drunken state, he’s stronger than you are. His hands grip your forearms, pushing you back against the brick wall and you yelp.

“I don’t need you protectin’ me, now let me go!” You yell into his face, shoving against the brute as hard as you can. Levi only laughs, pushing closer to you. His weight, sandwiching you against the wall, knocks the air out of your lungs as you attempt to push him away. He only laughs, and the smell of his alcohol ridden breath once again makes you gag.

“Why don’t you come wit’ me? I’ll show ya a real good time. Do you think a lil’ thing like you can handle me, precious?”

Eyes squinted shut, you silently beg Arthur or anyone to help you.

�� — — —

Arthur scans the room once more before swiping the cash off of the table and sliding it into his leather saddle bag. Most of the gamblers have passed out, but the ones who are still conscious are far too drunk to notice Arthur slipping by, knocking out a couple of guards and stealing their wealth. It's dark in the room, most of the candles have burned out already, and Arthur isn’t seen as he crouches, expert fingers grappling and pickpocketing as he goes. There is a little makeshift bar towards the window he had crawled in through, and on top of it rests a thick clip of money. Arthur eyes it, stepping towards the window to snatch the clip. Just as he passes the window, a breeze rolls in, and carried on it is your voice.

“Let me go!” You growl, and Arthur peeks out the window, face pale as his heart drops. He sees a big bastard, towering over you and holding you against the wall, yelling in your face. For a second Arthur sees nothing but red.

Arthur panics, filled with both rage and fear. The cash clips that he has not yet collected are discarded on the counter as Arthur runs down the interior staircase. It's quicker than crawling through the window and dealing with the ladders. Arthur’s mind is clouded with a primal instinct to protect you as he bolts down the steps, skipping multiple as he goes.

“Shit, shit- Shit!” Arthur growls, pushing up against the main door to the gunsmith. It doesn't budge, presumably locked for the night. And although Arthur would only have to reach down and unlock the fine wooden door, he wastes no time, kicking the wood with such force that it swings open, nearly knocked off the goddamn hinges. Arthur fumes, stepping through the broken door, and dropping the saddle bag onto the ground. You’re only right across the alley now.

His eyes meet yours, and you look so small compared to the bastard who is bothering you. Arthur doesn’t hesitate for a second, coming up behind Levi in a few long strides and grabbing him by the back of his collar. Even though Levi is large in comparison to you, he is not nearly as big as Arthur.

Arthur drags Levi back by his collar with an indescribable rage, and slams him into the brick wall, opposite of you. A sound erupts from Arthur, that could only be compared to a growl as he wraps his hand around Levi’s throat. His other fist is raised and ready to beat the life out of the bastard. You breathe deeply, sinking against the floor to catch your breath and reel over what’s playing out before you., relief washing over you because Arthur’s here.

“What in the hell were you just sayin’ to her?!” Arthur’s voice is deep, filled to the core with rage, the kind that can’t be stopped or repressed. His eyes are dark, and despite the love and the comfort that they have provided you with, Arthur looks terrifying now.

You can do nothing but catch your breath and watch the scene play out. You’re still in shock, mindlessly rubbing your hand over the spot on your arm that your perpetrator was gripping onto so tightly. You wince, realizing that there will definitely be bruises there later.

Levi cracks a sickening smile before responding to Arthur,

“Ah, so you’re the one this whore is fuc-” Levi’s words are cut short as Arthur’s fist meets his face. There is so much force and anger behind the punch that you are surprised Levi is still conscious. A loud crack snaps through the air- you realize that it is Levi’s nose shattering as he screams out in pain. Arthur is fuming, his shoulders rising up and down quickly as he attempts to stop himself from killing this piece of shit. He puts his fist down, but keeps his hand on Levi’s throat. A bruise in the shape of Arthur’s knuckles is already starting to form on Levi’s face. His greasy hair is now falling down in front of his eyes as he spits blood onto the ground. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s drunk, stupid or both, but he attempts to get under Arthur’s skin one last time.

“You don’t feel like sharin, do you mister?” Levi pauses, spitting some more blood to the ground and eyeing you up and down before continuing, “Can’t say I blame you partner… If I had a woman wit a body like that I’d never-”

Once again Levi is shut up by Arthur’s fists. Except for this time Arthur doesn’t stop. Something snaps inside the outlaw, like he’s gone completely feral. Arthur shoves Levi to the ground, straddling him while landing punch after punch to his face. You sit against the wall in shock, wincing at the wet crunch and snap of bones breaking. Arthur’s chest is heaving as he beats Levi senselessly. You’re not sure how long it goes on, but it feels like forever.

Eventually, Levi stops resisting the blows, and Arthur gets off the half dead man, still enraged. He stands, fuming.

“You piece of shit, don’t you ever put your goddamn hands on her again- and if you ever talk to her, or any woman, like that again, I'll do alot worse than this, you hear?!” Arthur all but snarls.

Levi doesn’t respond, and Arthur kicks him in the ribs for it.

“Do. You. Hear?” Arthur growls, low and deep.

You’re honestly not sure if Levi is even alive, or capable of responding. His face is beaten in, red and smashed, he's not even recognizable. You breathe a little easier when you see the beaten man nod his head up and down. He’s an awful bastard, but you’re relieved that Arthur didn’t kill him.

“Good.” Arthur hisses with an icy tone that you’ve never heard before.

Stepping over Levi, Arthur leans down into a crouch in front of you and his features soften. He gently pulls the hair away from your ears, checking your face before running his green eyes over your body, checking that you’re not hurt. His face is pinched up in concern, and the hands that check over you are bruised and stained with the blood of your perpetrator. After doing a quick check over, Arthur grabs your gun. His gentle hands meet your waist before he helps you to stand up. As soon as you’re on your feet, without another word, he grips your hand, picks up the money bag and pulls you deeper into the alley. After some turns and bends, Arthur stops in a secluded spot.

Arthur deems you both far enough away to be involved with any trouble from the law, and he turns to face you. His hands come up to your cheeks, and with care he gently turns your face to both sides, checking you over more thoroughly.

“How badly do you hurt?” Arthur asks, rolling up your sleeves to assess the forming purple splotches along your arm.

When he sees them, his jaw sets into a hard, cold state as he breathes deeply to control his rage. Your eyes flutter up to his own, and you tread on thin ice, not wanting him to go back and kill the man.

“Im okay Arthur, really, I-” You start, tears pooling in your eyes. Arthur watches them form and then wipes them away with his thumb.

“Now don’t lie for my sake, he hurt you? More than this?” Arthur’s hand is gently holding your bruised arm, and the other cups your cheek. His eyes speak of an ache, of regret, you know he blames himself for leaving you in the alley, and you rush to reassure him.

“No, no he didn't hurt me, shook me up a little, but nothing bad.” You whisper, catching those soft green eyes again. Arthur looks down, and his body tightens as he avoids your eyes, terrified to ask the next question.

“Did he- did he do anythin..?” Arthur looks up, eyes locked on to yours to assess your answer, and you flinch, realizing what he’s asking. God, it could have been so much worse.

“Arthur, no, I promise, I’m okay. Really.”

He nods, seemingly accepting your truth with a breath of relief as his tongue darts out over his lips.

“Fuckin’ bastard, I should’ve done a lot worse to him.” Arthur curses, stepping away to pace lightly.

You step forward and put a hand on his warm chest to quell his rage.

“No, no you shouldn’t have. He got the message Arthur.”

Arthur glances up at you for a few moments, his hands resting on his belt before he steps forward, and pulls you toward him by your shoulder.

“Just… C’mere sweetheart.” He whispers.

You step towards him, grateful for the way he envelopes you into his arms. He’s so big, so warm. It’s a comfort that you didn’t realize you needed in the moment as Arthur kisses the top of your head. Everything is perfect, just in the moments that he holds you like this.

“Y’know, I worry about you sweetheart. Don’t want you gettin’ hurt or bein’ made uncomfortable by bastards like him.” Arthur mutters into your hair, still hugging you tightly.

You wrap your arms tighter around his torso, nuzzling into his chest.

“Well that’s why I have you.” You counter, smiling into Arthur’s warmth. He chuckles, and you’re glad to hear it.

“I'll always be your protector, darlin.” Arthur says before pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

#arthur morgan fluff #protective arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction

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