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immajustvibehere · 9 months

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Quiet, Solitude Hour

Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

summary: On a hot afternoon, you find camp deserted with only one lazy cowboy to keep you company.

warning: slightly suggestive, Arthur is some years younger than he was in the game (it's up to you how much tho)

960 words, 5 minutes reading time

Credit to oolonglatte on Twitter! The drawing inspired this fanfiction :)

Camp was uncommonly deserted today. The majority was out on jobs, including Dutch and Miss Grimshaw, whose absence left a void in the usual hierarchy of overseeing and assigning chores. The sun blazed overhead, and whoever wasn't working was seeking shelter in the next saloon or going for a dip in a nearby lake. Even Mr Pearson, who normally remained within the bounds camp, had wandered off with Tilly to fish at a creek.

Having just completed the task of unloading hay from the wagon and neatly arranging it beneath a modest, hastily assembled shelter, you were convinced that you were the only one at camp. But then you saw a wispy thread of smoke rising from Arthur's tent. Not the black sort of smoke you get when you light a campfire, no, someone was smoking a cigarette. It must be Arthur, though his body was well hidden behind the crates that surround his tent.

You grinned as a prospect for diversion and amusement presented itself. You walked up to him, the grass and soil beneath your feet masked any audible approach. Slowly, Arthur’s body appeared. Recumbent upon his cot, Arthur wore nothing but jeans and boots. It looked as if he had hastily unclothed after a ride and now was trying to cool down. It was clear that he hadn’t expected anybody to be here, because even his belt was discarded in the grass, the jeans’ button and zipper had been undone nonchalantly, the latter halfway at best.

You observed the dark hair on his body that thickened beneath the curvature of his navel, only to lead down where it was swallowed by the shadow cast by his jeans. Arthur wasn't one to run around topless very often. You tried to remember when you ever saw him like this, only to realize it must have been years ago if ever.

You smiled contently. Arthur's eyes were closed and when he led the cigarette to his mouth, this happened on instinct and with a perfectly studied movement.

It felt forbidden, watching him like that. So you snuck away, heading for the create in the shadow where the gang kept some bottles of beer. The crate was buried in the ground to exploit every damp coolness that the earth had to offer. When you returned, two moderately cool bottles in hand, Arthur remained blissfully oblivious to your presence. The hand unoccupied by the cigarette, it had since shrunken significantly and would only be good for two more drags, was tracing circles on his lower abdomen. You watched as his fingers sifted through the strands of hair, a gentle caress which underlined that his thoughts were miles away.

Gently, you allowed the bottles to emit a soft chime as they touched and spoke softly: "Hope I'm not interrupting something?" More calmy than you had expected he'd react on the disturbance, Arthur's eyelids parted at a leisurely pace to meet your presence.

"'Course not", Arthur sat up slowly, smiling when you came closer, offering him a bottle. The remnants of his cigarette were extinguished before his fingers grasped the offered refreshment. Then he shifted along the cot, patting the fabric next to him. You sat down and only when your arm lightly brushed against his, Arthur seemed to wake up from his daydream.

He jumped up and put the bottle down on a table.

"Sorry I wasn't expecting someone to be here. Ain't proper to run around like that", Arthur grinned cheekily for a fleeting moment, before he stretched his limbs, righting his jeans and grabbing a shirt. "Oh, come on!", you giggled, "It's damn hot today, I don't blame you."

Arthur's eyes rested on you for moment. He must have noticed that you also had more buttons unbuttoned than usual, because, though he put his shirt on, sleeved rolled up to expose his forearms, he didn't bother buttoning it, but only cramped the edges into his jeans.

"What've you been up to?", you asked as Arthur sat down next to you again. You still saw some of the drowsiness in him. The hot air had made him tired and if you hadn't disturbed him, he might have dozed off soon.

"Jus' been out riding. I was looking into a lead Hosea told me."

"Is it a good one?", you asked, smilingly. You didn't know where you took the courage from all of a sudden, but you put your hand on top of Arthur's that was resting between your bodies.

"Y-yeah, think so...", Arthur almost choked on the answer, surprised about the hand holding. Well, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, because the two of you had been sweet on one another for some time now. But Arthur's method of dealing with his feelings was to stay away from camp as much as possible, because there was no way you felt the same and he wanted to get over this silly crush. He hadn't expected you to...like him back. Not even talking about daring to do the first move.

"Nobody's going to be back for another hour…", you said, standing up to look around camp. Your hand was still loosely holding Arthur's who was watching you in awe.

"We should make use of this", you grinned suggestively.

Arthur's Adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed.

"Ya sure? Y/N I didn't know you felt like this...", Arthur said, visibly flustered.

"Now you know", your cheeks were flushed from the confession.

You sat down on Arthur's lap, facing him. Arthur's hands immediately wandered to your hip, holding it in place while looking up to you. Slowly, you pulled out the edge of the shirt that Arthur had crammed into his jeans, undoing the work he had done only a minute ago. But Arthur didn’t mind that at all.

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader #Arthur morgan x gender neutral reader

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cruelcruelcowboy · 1 year

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✎ — love language headcanons.

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!reader summary: just some fluffy and kinda long love language headcanons warnings: none a/n: this took a looot longer than expected, and i rewrote everything several times but i finally did it! sorry in advance for any mistakes my crappy writing hehe constructive feedback is welcome! ( ´ ▽ ` )b

gif is 100% by @itspapillonnoir bc i just realized it looks like im stealing ur gif im so sorry

——＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚— ☾ —˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊——

giving: acts of service/gift giving & physical touch

arthur is a natural giver, time and time again bending over backward when needed, yet never expecting a thing in return. he doesn't consider himself to be one with words, so he gives back in return, hoping his kind gestures will suffice where his words don't. it's no different when it comes to you, only instead of his usual platonic favours, he pours his heart into doing the most for you.

he knows the things you like, certain colors, foods, perfumes/colognes, all of it. whatever you might have mentioned liking or craving in the past, he will frequently go out of his way just to bring back something you've spoken of or asked for.

usually, he’s fond of delivering his gifts straight to you, selfishly taking joy in the way you light up at whatever he's brought back. sometimes he wonders if you do it just so you don't hurt his feelings, but he wouldn't care regardless. you always make him feel seen, thanking him profusely, and never taking his kindness for granted.

on the off chance you’re away from camp, he’ll leave your gifts placed thoughtfully on your cot, usually accompanied on top of a handwritten note or paired with a fresh picking of your favourite flowers/herbs.

other times, he shows his love through gestures. he’ll make sure that your horse has been looked after for the day, that your laundry has been collected and brought back to your tent, or that there’s a bowl of hot stew waiting for you after a grueling job. he makes you feel like your efforts don't go unnoticed no matter how big or small, or what role you play in the gang.

some mornings, when a thick fog lays over the camp and the sun is only peaking over the horizon, arthur will beckon you over to the fire, waiting with a cup of coffee, “jus' how ya like it." even if you aren't a morning person, he certainly makes them worth it.

it definitely takes him a little while before he's confident enough to show any public displays of affection. only when the camp is quiet and there are few prying eyes will he lovingly run one of those bear-like hands down the back of your head, staring down at you fondly from beneath pretty brown eyelashes. he’ll place a delicate kiss on your forehead or cheek before letting the two of you get on for the day.

in private, however, he's all over you. he adores holding you, running his hands along your body, and tracing his fingers in mindless patterns on your skin. he'll kiss down your face and throat, pinning you down beneath him like a wild animal, secretly praying that you won't slip from his grasp and bolt off. thankfully you never do, to you, his arms are your home.

receiving: words of affirmation & quality time

when it comes to getting affection in return, he has no clue how to accept it, let alone process it. the shell of the big brash outlaw begins to crack and reveal a much softer inside. he'll blush and fuss and insist, “i ain’t a good man,” with a shy bow of his head and a mindless kick of his boot. all you can do is roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile.

no matter how reserved he is about it, you know how much he loves and appreciates the way you spoil him with your words of endearment and praise. you've got him blushing like a virgin just by the way you say his name so sickeningly sweet.

"thanks for looking out for me, arthur."

“you’re so handsome, arthur.”

“i really appreciate all that you do for me, arthur.”

“i love you, arthur.”

he couldn't tell if he was about to pass out or cry. no other person had ever shown him the type of genuine kindness and care that you did, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never gather why you kept coming back to him—but he would be forever grateful that you did.

frequently, you like to make excuses to get some one-on-one time with arthur, "dutch says we haaave to go take a nice long ride down along the river. it sounded pretty urgent, wouldn't wanna disappoint yaknow." he raises a brow, and the corner of his mouth begins to crack into a smile. "that so?" he's always quick to catch on, and plays right into your antics, "well then, i guess we better get goin' b'for he changes his mind."

at the end of the day, as long as you're with him, he's content and your presence is more than enough to take the weight of the world off his shoulders. wherever he is you are, and vice versa—attached at the hip. no matter if it's accompanying each other on errands or jobs across the states, stirring up trouble and fighting off the law, or enjoying the serenity of late nights around the campfire together, you're by his side till the end. and he wouldn't have it any other way.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction

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cowboydisaster · 11 months

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Lobo

part two (but can be read alone)

read part 1 here

pairing: werewolf!Arthur Morgan x reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: After your mating bite, Arthur offers you something else-- his body.

a/n: I got a lot of requests for a part two with smut! I really like this little series, lmk if you guys want more! Heres the lore to keep in mind because everyone writes werewolves differently:

-mated pairs can feel each others emotions and pain/pleasure -mated pairs are nearly irresistible to each other during the full moon, it's like sex pollen, but can be painful for one or both parties, i.e. a burning sensation or a fever-- the moons way of keeping her werewolf population from dwindling.

warnings: nsfw, smut, a touch of a/b/o, 18+, minors dni

beta read by @margowritesthings

That tether, the unforgiving ache in your chest that had pulled you to him is gone. But it’s replaced by a new feeling. A burning fire, raging in your core. You look up to Arthur’s red eyes, gasping for breath as pure need overtakes you. It’s as strong as the tether was, and your knees buckle as Arthur catches your arms.

“I need– Arthur, it hurts.” You moan, hands gripping at the fire in your stomach as Arthur holds you up. You radiate with need, and he can smell it coming off you so strongly that he can barely restrain himself. His eyes slip closed and he breathes through his mouth to keep a clear head.

“If you’ll have me, I’ll make it go away.” Arthur mumbles, dizzy with the way your scent swirls in his head. His strong arms are tight around you, holding you upright as you frantically nod. He’s the only thing grounding you, making you feel whole and empty just the same because you’ve never felt a bond so raw in your soul, or an emptiness so deep in your core.

“Please, I need you.” You whimper, clinging to him like he’s the oxygen flowing in and out of your lungs.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Arthur whispers. He scoops you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing, carrying you towards your bedroll. Ares and Marley are near the treeline, far away from the sight you two are likely to make.

Arthur lays you down on the cot with a tenderness that no human has shown you before. His eyes glow red as fresh roses as he lines your body over top of you.

"You're so perfect." Arthur growls, leaning down to catch your lips, "N' you're all mine."

You've read about this too. Arthur's an alpha, meaning that he's equally possessive and protective. You're his, and you have no quarrels with that, you'll gladly shout it from rooftops.

His lips crash onto yours, wanting and needy. He takes your lips like they're something necessary to his survival. It's so different from your first kiss just moments ago. There's a hunger behind his eyes, and this time when he nudges his nose into your neck and inhales, the scent is sickeningly sweet. He can smell how much you want him, he can taste how ready you are.

Your body aches as he runs his fingers down your stomach to your thigh. He nudges your thighs apart, reaching down to run his fingers over your entrance. If anything, his teasing makes the fire burn hotter and you groan at the way it consumes you. You need more of him, all of him.

You gasp as he presses a finger into you, curling it. The fire quells, but it's not nearly enough. You groan, wincing as sweat runs down your forehead.

Arthur's fingers work inside you, pumping as he kisses and bites your neck. He growls occasionally, overcome with the need that's raging in himself. His fingers equally help and hurt you. The more he teases you, the more pleasure you feel, but the longer he's not in you, more fever overtakes you. The moon is pulling you together, and her patience is wearing thin. Arthur's fingers continue to slide in you, and you buck your hips as pleasure ripples through you. It's short lived, as the bubbling heat takes over,

"Arthur, please no more teasing, it hurts." You wince, face scrunching up as your body screams for his own, "Alpha, please."

At his title, something in Arthur snaps back, and when he realizes you're in pain he apologizes immediately.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'll make it go away. You just hang in there, alright?" Arthur asks of you and you nod. You can do that. You need him so desperately, it's unlike anything you've ever experienced. He's your water, your oxygen, your shelter. He's right with the things keeping you alive, you know that you can't live without him now.

You swallow thickly when you glance down. He’s an alpha, and so he’s big– really big. You hesitate, and even the fire in your stomach pauses for a moment. Arthur can smell your fear, and he immediately pulls back a bit.

“What’s the matter? You’re scared.” Arthur points out, scenting the cool night air and finding again the unmistakable, strong scent of fear. You shake your head, pulling him back down to you.

“You’re big, alpha. Just be gentle.” You ask, some of your anxiety quelling when his eyes soften on yours. They bleed back to that familiar ocean green for just a second as he nods, a strand of his soft hair falls down over your face and you gently push it behind his ear.

“I won't hurt you.” He swears. Werewolves never break their promises. It’s a code, one of their strictest.

“I trust you.” You murmur, allowing him access as your fever picks back up. Your hands cling to his body, pulling him down as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your head tosses back as you wait for the release, shuddering underneath him.

Everything falls away when he pushes into you. It's like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking together and all the pain and the heat falls away. It's replaced by pure ecstasy. The forest and the fire, the wind and the moon are lost on you as he rocks into you. There's nothing but him in this moment. You gasp, never having been so full, mind and body, than right now. Arthur's eyes flash red as he groans deeply, keeping a slow hard pace as you gasp underneath him.

"Feel better?" Arthur grunts, nose tucked into your collarbone as he inhales your scent with every thrust. You smell so damn good. It's driving him mad, driving him into you. You're the most addictive drug he's ever tried, and he knows no matter how much he has you it won't ever be enough.

"It feels so good, Arthur. You make me feel so good." You moan, wrapping your arms around his torso. You hang onto him like a ship at sea, and he surely rocks you like one. His hips roll into you in the most delirious way imaginable, and before long you're a moaning, mewling mess underneath him.

The stretch is almost painful, but the pleasure is indescribable as your tether returns. It's not painful, just a buzz reminding you that you're mated to the man above you. It adds to your growing pleasure, vibrating through your core. Arthur's arms strain as he holds back, grunting and groaning as he fights his nature.

"You're holding back." You point out in a breathy whimper. Arthur's squinted eyes open, and his red orbs lock onto yours.

"You're human…" He groans, "Don't wanna hurt you."

"I can handle it." You mewl, needing more of him. He shakes his head, hesitating before you reiterate, "Alpha, I trust you. Please."

Arthur snaps, and at your admission, his instincts take over. His nose digs into your neck, and he bites the skin there lightly as he drives into you hard. He's not holding back anymore, and your body rocks against the bedroll as he drills into you, growling into your ear.

Its raw, animalistic and incredible. Arthur leaves bruises on your hips and yet his lips leave kisses on your neck. Even when he gives up control, he's still a gentleman, still making sure you're comfortable and feeling loved.

The moon shines down brightly, casting you both in a colorless glow. The deep contrast of red irises bore into your soul as you claw at Arthur's chest, losing your composure. You've never felt such an intense pleasure. It builds and builds until you fear the snap, you're not sure it can get better than this, but you push the boundary nonetheless.

"Don't stop, Arthur." You moan.

"I won't. Christ, you smell so good." Arthur growls, surrounding himself in your scent as he pumps into you. He can feel your approaching orgasm, making this an almost otherworldly experience. The juxtaposition of two people's pleasure in one body is unfathomably good, and you nearly scream as you peak.

You yell out a slew of his name until he silences you with his lips. You moan into his mouth, tasting the blood on his lips from his earlier bite. He holds you tight, hips sputtering and quickening their pace as he finishes in you.

You both climax together, and it seems to last a lifetime. Feeling each other's pleasure makes for a long, powerful finish. His lips are still on yours as his eyes glow brighter than you've ever seen them, and then with a heavy pant they bleed back to that familiar blue/green.

His forehead rests on yours as he catches his breath, beads of sweat sliding down his nose as his instincts leave him somewhat. Immediately he's worried that amidst his loss of control he'd hurt you.

"You're okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Arthur asks, looking down over your body as he slides out. You wince from overstimulation, shaking your head.

"No, you didn't hurt me. That was incredible." You smile, gripping his hand in yours. There it is again, that buzzing. It's content now, comfortable. Arthur lets you rest for a moment, peppering kisses along your neck and chest. He runs his tongue over the bite marks on your neck, soothing the sting as you rest under him.

The wind howls, giving you a chill as goosebumps ripple over your body. Arthur notices this, and he stands from the ground, scooping you up again as you yelp. It's nothing for him to carry you. He also grabs one of your shirts from the ground, holding it in his hands as he begins to carry you away from camp.

"Where are you takin' me?" You ask, feeling suddenly sleepy as your head lulls back on his big strong arm. He carries you down the bank, ducking under pine trees as he walks bare through the forest.

"Goin' to get you cleaned up. I told you I'd take care of you. It's my job now, my responsibility. " Arthur hums, seeming satisfied with his new title.

He carries you down through the woods, following the scent of a path he'd taken before. There's a deep pond down here with crystal clear water, a perfect spot for a bath. Naturally, Marley follows, keeping a comfortable distance behind you both.

You almost fall asleep in his arms. He's wholly satisfied you tonight, both mind and body. You feel so safe, so connected to him. The dirt is soft under Arthur's feet as he pads down to the pond. Insects chirp in the night and owls hoot, but the sound you focus on is Arthur's heartbeat under your ear. It's faster than a normal one, must be a wolf thing.

You hear when his feet splash into the water as he walks down the slope. You expect it to be cold, but the water is warm as he lets you stand in it. He helps you down until you're on your feet in clay and sand with the water lapping just under your chest. The full moon shines brightly, casting a white glow over the water. Arthur's hand remains around your waist as you take in the night's beauty.

You dip under the water, submerging yourself fully in the warm pond. You stay under for a few moments, listening to your heartbeat in your ears as your body sings with a fulfillment and a purpose. When you emerge again your hair is slicked back with wetness and water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets. Arthur's hand cups your cheek as you look to him, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

His lips are tender and loving as he showers you in aftercare. You lean into his kiss, licking his bottom lip with a groan. When you pull away, Arthur begins to wash you up. He uses his hands to pour big handfuls of water over your shoulders, tenderly wiping the sweat and the dirt away from your face with the shirt he’d brought. His hands are soft despite the callouses that adorn them. Arthur is careful in his actions, wiping and washing your skin until it is all freshly cleaned.

Once he deems you cleaned up, he gathers you into his arms again, and begins carrying you back to your camp. You smile at the fact that he seems to carry you everywhere now, but you don't mind. Poor Ares has some competition it seems. Arthur walks back up the bank, his chest humming under your body. You lean into his endless pool of warmth, nearly falling asleep again. Arthur places you carefully down on your bedroll near the fire. He gives you time to get dressed, and you pull your shirt over your arms.

You hear him shift behind you, and as his instincts take over, he runs the perimeter of camp, checking for any threats or potential harms to you. His nose is on the ground as he picks up the scent of a coyote, but the scent is old enough that he's sure it won't bring any harm to you. If anything does, he won't hesitate to kill it.

You find yourself drifting off, curled up tightly under the stars. You're close to the fire, but still, you shiver from the cold night.

You smile as Arthur lines your back, his thick fur warming you as you turn and lean into him. He licks your cheek lightly, sighing contentedly as you pet his soft coat.

What a day it has been. It's changed the course of your life. You never would have imagined yourself mated to a werewolf, that's for sure. The stars shine nearly as bright as Arthur's eyes as he watches you drift off through wolf's eyes. He's so warm, you can't help it. Everything about him makes you feel safe and comfortable and loved. You know he loves you, you can feel it through your shared emotions. You love him too, you're sure, but neither of you make a move to say it yet.

The moon shines proudly, watching over her new mated pair. She has pulled two together again, worked miracles and formed one of the rarest pairs known to the earth– a werewolf and a human.

You nuzzle into his fur, feeling whole– complete. You've found your other half, and he's found his.

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

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x male reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur

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amorgansgal · 2 years

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Hiya! I adore your writings! I wanted to ask how would the boys confess to their crush?

Aww, thank you! :D I have done Arthur, Sean and Micah for this ask, I hope that's ok. Hope you enjoy! It's mostly all SFW, though Micah is... Micah.

It's Just a Little Crush!

Arthur Morgan

You’ll be lucky if you ever find out!

The man will first repress any feelings he has for you, chalking things up to just being impressed with your skills and appreciating the work you do around camp. He doesn’t ACTUALLY have feelings for you, he just thinks you’re a pretty good person to have around.

But truth be told, he finds himself making excuses to stay in camp when you’re there or riding out with you on jobs. He’s something of a worry wort and keeps an eye on you, then feels bad for looming over you like a hawk!

When he has to stay away from camp he thinks fondly about your smile and laugh, and how much you make him smile and laugh. He misses the sound of your voice, the way you affectionately pat his arm and feed his horse peppermints when you think Arthur isn’t watching.

Really, it’s only when he’s away from you that he realises how he’s fond of you and debates for an eternity about telling you how he feels.

If he’s unable to move pass how he feels, then he might tell you, but it could be a year or more until he actually does reveal all!

If he does, he’s very earnest, but also terrified that you might reject him. He’ll nervously glance up at your face, trying to guess what you’re thinking and feeling.

‘Ain’t goin’ to lie anymore, darlin’, I’ve grown sweet on ya. Have felt that way for a while. I know I ain’t a good man, don’ deserve ya, but I do… like yer quite a bit.’

Sean MacGuire

Subtlety is Sean’s middle name, so he behaves very gentlemanly and takes things slow and…

Ah! Who am I kidding?

Sean adores you and thinks you and the whole world ought to know about that. But as per Sean, he can’t tell you in private and be earnest and sweet about it, he waits until he’s absolutely drunk.

He stands up on a table, with several people yelling at him to get down or be careful, and he proclaims to all there how beautiful/handsome you are and that you’re the best person he’s ever met and you bring joy to his life and he’s going to marry you someday!

Everyone assumes it’s just a bit of a joke and you get some teasing you about it. But Sean manages to fall off the table, kicking his boot off into Charles’ face and dislocating his shoulder in the process!

With all the drama, Sean’s loud declaration is entirely forgotten! By the time Sean has his shoulder moved back into place, drunk another bottle of whiskey for the pain and then slept until morning, he has forgotten he even said anything.

You manage to bring him breakfast and he beams on seeing you, then frowns his sore arm and the sling it’s in. But he grins at you pretty quickly.

‘Must’ve been a hell of a night!’

‘Yes,’ you bite back your laugh. ‘You might have said something about me being the most beautiful/handsome person you know and bringing joy to your life and wanting to marry me.’

Sean’s eyes go as wide as saucers and for once he’s a little lost for words! He does actually feel that way though hadn’t quite anticipated he would tell you like that. He manages a nervous giggle. ‘Well, guess that’s all true… though maybe we should just go for a meal in Valentine, get t’ know each other a bit more, then think about marryin’!’

Micah Bell

Micah is frustrated and annoyed when he realises he has developed feelings for you. He considers romantic attachment a waste of time and something that will slow him down, make him sloppy and foolish.

He ain’t like Morgan, he’s not got a soft heart.

After his realisation, he’s a lot colder and crueller to you. It’s almost as though he makes more effort to be especially mean and targeted against you. Frustratingly, you don’t really say or do anything in your defence, just roll your eyes and ignore him. Which makes him feel… funny at any rate. If you at least were angry or bitter with him he would stop feeling the way he does.

He also begins to flirt more with the women in camp, making more salacious comments and not being afraid to leer at the girls. And he always makes sure you can both see and hear what’s going on.

You ain’t better than them and you certainly ain’t better than Micah Bell.

It’s not until he finds you cracking jokes with Arthur Morgan, of all people, and laughing, that his blood boils and he drags you off.

‘Fine! Goddammit. I like ya and if I catch you talkin’ with Morgan again, you won’t like what I do sweetheart-’

You don’t seem fussed, you lean against a tree, then smirk and raise a brow. ‘What will you do?’

His heart pounds heavily in his chest and he places two hands beside your head, trapping you in. ‘That ain’t your concern. Don’t let me catch you with him.’

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 1 year

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I've always had this scenerio of Arthur Morgan with a teenager I always thought it be cute having Arthur as your dad.

THIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT ADRYAN

Dad!Arthur with a teenager is without a doubt The Best ThingTM.

I can imagine them (found or blood family) to have an adventurous spirit, a refreshing curiosity, and a sharp tongue. All these traits naturally lead Arthur to sit down in his cot at the end of the day groaning like a man five times his age.

I also love thinking about wardrobe cause I feel like so much can be expressed in the way characters wear their clothes. Like what they have in their pockets or on their belt, how they layer themselves up for the outdoors, what jewellery do they wear and where did they get their hat from? And if it’s found family, then I can imagine that over time all of these different aspects get influenced by Arthur’s impact on their life — maybe a ring reminds them of their first robbery with Arthur, or they keep a journal page of Arthur’s folded up in their vest or jacket because it had drawings of the camp with some purple prose.

And if they’re in trouble? Well it’s save first, reprimand later. Regardless of whether they can handle themselves or not, in times of crisis they will always listen to Arthur, if not to give him peace of mind.

Yeah, that hit the spot.

#ask #adryanscott #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x gn!reader #I need more Arthur x teen reader headcanons

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agender-wolfie · 1 year

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I keep reading all these fics where people are calling those in their 30’s “old” lmfao y’all think that’s old?! Jesus H Christ.

#Gen z is wild af #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x reader #john price x reader #John price x gn!reader

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daneneedssleep · 5 months

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I had a cute drabble idea with Arthur Morgan and I told myself I would write it down and potentially post it before I forgot

The Stars Aren’t as Pretty as You (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Warnings: This is completely just tooth rotting fluff. Like so sweet and fluffy it’s better than fucking cotton candy. Reader has no Male or Female associations so it’s GN! :)

Ever since Arthur warmed up to you, he would let you talk about any simple facts you wanted to tell him. He would always listen and pay attention to you, even occasionally writing some of the more helpful things you talk about down in his journal. Arthur always had a small smile on his face when you would go on rants about what you saw in town or who you met in the plains and he got into the habit of sitting next to you and sketching you just to hear you talk and see your face.

Tonight was somewhat different. You had gone into town with Arthur but it was late in the night when you were returning back to camp so you both decided to set camp in the plains. He knew you were gonna start talking about something and he sat in silence waiting for you to speak up.

“The Stars are so pretty aren’t they?” You asked Arthur, lying on your back to look up at the constellation filled night sky.

Arthur lays next to you, his eyes raking over the sky as he relaxes from the view and your company. “They are…” he replies quietly, his eyes glancing over at you beside him. Even laying beside him you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

You pipe up again, smiling fondly as you point to different constellations. “That’s Ursa Major… oh and that’s the Big Dipper. See?” You point to the direction of the star formations.

Arthur smiles and points at the same thing you are. “Yeah I see it”

You chuckle and glance over at Arthur. God he’s so handsome. “Did you know stars are big balls of heat and fire? Like the sun but a lot farther away…” You ask Arthur, still smiling to yourself. You loved talking to Arthur about different things. About your day, the animals you saw or hunted, people you met, and other things that you hoped Arthur found as interesting as you did…

“Huh… I never really understood that… they’re still pretty though” Arthur says softly, his blue eyes sparkling like the stars.

“Not as pretty as you…” You replied softly, glancing over at Arthur.

He couldn’t help but smile.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #fluff #red dead redemption two

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vanderlesbian · 9 months

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rdr2 men as girl dads

arthur, charles, john, dutch, + hosea

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

arthur morgan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

charles smith

+ crafts dolls and other toys for her!!

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

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

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

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

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

john marston

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

dutch van der linde

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

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

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

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

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

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

hosea matthews

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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forgetminot · 9 months

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Incorrect Quotes - Arthur Morgan x Y/n Edition

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Y/n : "That sounds amazing! Doesn’t that sound amazing, Arthur?"

Arthur : "...No."

Y/n : "I think I speak for both Arthur and I, when I say that it sounds amazing!"

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Y/n : "If you don't stop talking bullshit, I'm going to jump out of that window."

Arthur : "...We're on the ground floor, Y/n."

Y/n : "I know but I want a dramatic exit."

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Arthur : "Why do you think I don’t like you? Of course I do. I would kill for you."

Arthur : ...

Arthur : "Ask me to kill for you."

Y/n : "...First of all, calm down-"

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Y/n : "Did you really have to stab them?"

Arthur : "You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what they said to me. "

Y/n : "What did they say to you?"

Arthur : 'What are you going to do, stab me?'

Y/n : "I guess that's fair."

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mlmxreader · 4 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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immajustvibehere · 7 months

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Are You Afraid of Ghosts, Arthur?

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

summary: You get lost in the forest and Arthur walks you back to camp as you discuss each other's fears.

warning: fluff, slight angst (because fears, you know), fear & comfort

>>> Happy Halloween, basically =D

Masterlist

1700 words, 10 minutes reading time

"Who's there?", Arthur's voice echoed through the dense forest. He raised his lantern so the cone of light would reach the trees that grew next to the little path that travellers and wild animals had created over the course of years. The feeble light struggled to penetrate the thick veil of darkness and for a few moments, there was nothing to be heard besides the rustling of leaves nearby.

"A-Arthur?", your voice was shaky and merely a whimper, but Arthur immediately recognized it to be yours and called out your name. Slowly, a figure emerged from the darkness. Arthur had to dismount his horse and walk towards you, before the light of his lantern was enough to make out your features.

The tear-streaks on your face immediately worried him. You were pale and skittish. Arthur's initial thoughts were that you might be heard or escaped from some Murfrees.

"I thought...I thought I was done for", you whispered, another tear ran freely down your cheek.

"Yer safe. I got ya...", Arthur said and gently put his arm around you and led you to his horse. He fastened the lantern on his saddle before having a proper look at you. "Are you hurt?", he asked with gentle and caring voice.

You shook your head.

"Why are you out here?", Arthur required while getting out of his jacket, which he then caringly put around your shoulders. As he brushed your hands in the process, he found them eerily cold for such a warm night.

"I wanted to-", a sob interrupted you, "wanted to look for some herbs by the river. But I got lost...and then it got dark and-" You swallowed heavily.

"It's okay. We are not far from camp", Arthur explained, looking at you sympathetically. But you didn't answer. Instead, you looked down to your boots for a moment and remained silent, as if you were waiting for something to happen.

Then, all of a sudden, you said something which Arthur hadn't expected: "The trees are talking."

Arthur wasn't someone to be easily frightened, though the way you delivered the words had a slight shiver run down his spine.

"What?", he asked, just to make sure he understood correctly. All the while, he took the reins of his horse and started to lead it forward. It trotted slowly alongside you two.

"I heard the trees whisper earlier...", you said. You knew what you'd heard, and you were convinced of it. There was nobody around, only the forest, and it had surely whispered. The act alone of recalling the memory made you feel sick. But you weren't alone in the dark anymore, Arthur was right beside you.

"Probably just yer imagination. Also lot of wild animals around here...", Arthur commented in an attempt to calm you, again putting his hand on your back. But something didn't sit right with him either, because just a few nights ago, he could have sworn he had heard whispers in the forest. And he had been convinced he was hearing things because it was late and he was tired, in fact, he had forgotten all about it, but now that you've brought it up again...

"It sounded human", you persisted.

"Well", Arthur put his hand on his gun, "Last time I checked, humans aren't immune to bullets so if anything is out there scaring you, I'll shoot it."

"You can't shoot ghosts, Arthur", you said.

"They wouldn't do much harm anyways", he joked, assuming that you had also made a joke. But your face remained strangely stoic.

"Do you believe in ghosts?", you then proceeded to ask.

Ghosts? Arthur wasn't entirely sure, but that's not the answer you needed right now. So he sighed and said:

"No. Believe me, I have killed so many people that if ghosts existed, they'd have hunted me to hell already."

You looked at Arthur, at his sunken-in cheeks, his red eyes. You knew he was sick, even though he hadn't told you about it. In a way, he looked like a ghost. But he surely didn't feel like one, because the hand returned to your shoulder, and it was warm. And his smile was genuine and comforting, though the chill hadn't left your bones yet.

"It's the living ya should be scared of. It's they who hunt you down and seek revenge. Not a bunch of ghosts", Arthur elaborated.

"So is there nothing you're afraid of?"

Arthur thought for a while, before he answered in a monotonous voice.

"Dying…"

"You serious?", you asked incredulous. Arthur looked at you confusedly.

"My teeth are clattering because I got lost in the forest half a mile from camp and I'm moaning about ghosts. Sometimes I screech when a bug launches at me out of nowhere. A damn nightmare had me at the edge of my bed and you tell me you're afraid of dying? Couldn't you have said something like heights or, I don't know, bugs? Just to cheer me up?", you quipped, nervously giggling in hope Arthur wouldn't take offence.

"I-I guess...", Arthur stammered, "Back when we were in Rhodes there were some women marching for their right to vote or something... I thought they'd tear me apart if I said something wrong, that gave me a good fright."

He finally saw a slight smile on your face.

"Or when Miss Grimshaw asks me to do something but I forget…Bless her, but ever since she was young she'd start looking like a monster when she's angry."

You smiled up to him, "Thanks Arthur."

You continued to walk in silence. Every second that passed without conversation, the tension seemed to thicken. There was a pervasive sense of dread that hung in the air that made it impossible to ignore the unsettling feeling that creeped up in you. You both felt it, though neither of you wanted to address it.

The shadows seemed to grow longer and more menacing. Every rustling of leaves had you twitch and even Arthur tensed up when there was a sound that wasn't strictly what one should hear in a forest at night. You felt his fingers slightly dig into your shoulder when there was something awfully similar to a scream, far far in the distance.

Arthur was sort of glad when you broke the silence with a moan and declared: "I won't be able to sleep tonight, that's for sure."

"Then don't. Can offer ya some rounds of cards", Arthur suggested.

"You sure? You just returned from a day's long journey, wouldn't you need some rest?"

"I'm fine, ain't that tired yet anyways", which was a lie, but he figured he'd manage an hour or two of playing cards. Especially if it meant you'd feel better and calm down.

Back in camp, Arthur met you in his tent. He closed the flaps, something which he seldomly did, but he realized how skittish you were around the gaze of Micah's companions, and he understood. Arthur sat on his bed and you took a seat on a chair. Then you started to play.

He noticed that with time, you took longer to play your move, and after your third yawn, you realized that it wasn't polite to impose on him any longer.

"I'm sorry...maybe I should head to my...", you sighed. The thought of going to sleep, of lying alone with no protection from the forest, the whispers, the eyes of Micah's rats, it frightened you. You were afraid of the nightmares you'd surely get.

"Ya can sleep here, if ya want", Arthur offered. He stood up and got a spare bedroll.

"Really?", you asked in disbelief

"Sure. Can't promise the nightmares'll stay outside, but if it helps", Arthur shrugged.

"I-I mean...are you sure?", and when Arthur nodded, you said with a smile, "Thank you Arthur." You hugged him gently, which he reciprocated hesitantly. Quickly, you arranged a spot next to Arthur's cot, bedroll and blanket readily laid out. The fear of nightmares was quickly replaced by warm feeling of excitement. The fact that Arthur had sacrificed an hour of sleep to play cards with you had already sent some butterflies to your stomach, but that he allowed you to sleep in his tent...

It's safe to say that Arthur noticed the big grin on your face when you got under your blanket. He was half-recumbent on his bedroll, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"You won't scream all night when a ghost appears in yer dreams, will ya?", he asked sceptically.

"Depends", you grinned, "Would you let me sleep on your cot with you if I did?"

Arthur blinked in utter shock and surprise. How you could go from scared shitless and falling asleep to cheekily flirting was beyond him. But he realized quickly that he had lost advantage in the conversation when your question had him speechless for a few moments.

"I'm just kidding", you smiled gently, steering back in case this was an inappropriate time.

"If it shuts ya up, I probably would", Arthur finally answered. The corners of his lips tugged into a cheeky smile.

It was agreed that the lantern would stay on, though its light was dim, it calmed both of you that you were able to make out the shadows of the objects in the tent. If it hadn't been for the two lines of flirting you had just exchanged, which you were busy turning over in your head, you would have been asleep already.

"Thank you for today", you whispered, unsure if Arthur was asleep yet.

"'course. Nothing to thank me for", Arthur replied quietly.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything about your fear...", you said sombrely.

Arthur cleared his throat. He didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't expected you'd worry about it.

"Can I haunt ya?", Arthur asked, "When I'm a ghost, I mean..."

You chuckled: "Oh please. I insist."

"Now I'm kinda lookin' forward to it", Arthur answered and you heard how his lips curled into a smile. For a moment, he lifted his upper body, looking down at you. Then he let one of his hands dangle down, brushing your hand seemingly accidentally. You got the hint and took his hand, holding it gently until one of you was the first to fall asleep.

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spongeyspot · 5 months

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can I please have some Arthur Morgan headcanons? here’s some ideas for it

His experience at a target

getting a little treat after a hard day of work

being a passenger princess

basically following his new “caretaker” around while he figures out the modern world.

1890s!Arthur being thrown into the modern world HC

A/N: I'm gonna go with the last two bc I find it so funny. ALSO: I should clarify, that this isn't a relationship hc. The reader (You/yours pronouns) is g/n, and Arthur becomes their roommate

(And they were roommates...)

Arthur Morgan was in the blast zone of Francis Sinclair's time machine and accidentally hitched a ride to the year 2023.

- Gets hit by (your) a car when he wandered into the street

- It took him quite a bit to come to terms that this place was not the one he once knew

- Wants to get home so badly, but it seems he's stuck. He can't find Vincent Sinclair anywhere.

- He seeks out your help and at first, when he explains his predicament, you think he's a crazy homeless guy

- He tries to go off on his own to figure things out but comes back immediately because things have changed so much from the place he once knew.

- He also almost got hit by another car

- You decide you want to show Arthur the finer things in life, first starting with getting vaccinated... God knows how many diseases Arthur would be exposed to, let alone the ones he already has.

- Also a toothbrush because his breath is probably rancid

- He sleeps on your couch for a while

- eventually moves into your spare bedroom and starts having to pay some of the rent

- He'd have to work under the table because his birth certificate says he was born in 1864...

- Probably gets a job with Construction or Bartending

- Also, clean slate? No Bounty! Hell yeah!

- tends to follow you everywhere because he likes how you explain modern life to him

- You got him a cell phone.

- He's never trying to be funny when he asks questions

- "What the hell is a "tik-tok"?"

- "Blue-tooth? Never heard of that, only gold ones... I used to sell em'."

- "And you can just.. talk to this? And it'll bring ya food?? Whenever ya want???"

- holds the phone pinched between two fingers on either side like he's holding a pair of dirty underwear and starts to yell at it that he wants some steak

- Absolutely blown away by pizza

- Astonished when he sees no horses, just giant metal boxes with wheels that seem to move on their own.

- When you explain how it worked and what it was, he called it a "magic stagecoach" for a while

- Passenger princess

- fascinated by modern music. It just comes out of your magic stagecoach with the press of a button?

- Huge Bon Jovi fan. his favorite song is "Wanted Dead or Alive".

- asks "What does this button do?" seconds before he presses it

- holds the "oh shit" handle in your car at all times.

-The first time he was in your car he probably actually screamed

- you got him an electric beard trimmer for Christmas and he acted like you handed him a gold ingot

- quite honestly starts to warm up to the domestic life. having to rob and steal to keep himself alive weighed on him way more than he liked to admit.

- adores movie nights. Movies in the 1900s-2023 are incredibly different than the motion pictures he was used to.

- after he gets used to this new world, he WANTS A MOTORCYCLE SO BAD but opts for a pickup truck instead because it's more convenient

- Insists on cooking dinner on the weekends

- didn't understand your gas stove the first time and he almost blew up your apartment

#Arthur morgan x reader #Arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #arthur morgan headcannons #arthur morgan hc #arthur morgan x reader hc #arthur morgan x reader hcs #hc #rdr2 hc #rdr2 headcanons #headcanons

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cowboydisaster · 11 months

Text

Lobo

reupload; originally posted on 14 february, 2023

read part two here

pairing: werewolf!Arthur Morgan x reader

word count: 5.2k

summary: You're on the run, hiding from the law. One night, your dog runs into the woods and comes upon a poor creature stuck in a bear trap. This isn't just some normal wolf... His eyes are the color of the ocean and he seems to understand you. The wolf continues to visit you, shifting back and forward between man and beast. He offers you his name, and eventually his heart.

a/n: this was originally a submission for the rdr events valentines exchange! This was my first ever werewolf fic and I was hella intimidated by it, but it was SO fun. I'm definitely down to do a part two if that's something people want. Let me know! Important things to know about this fic because everyone writes werewolves differently: - A werewolf's eyes glow red when they have found their mate, and after they've found their mate, their eyes glow red during very emotional/vulnerable moments. - A mating bite is just a way for the bond to seal between the two. It can be given by one or both parties -Arthur is a fully normal human being, aside from the fact that he can shift to a wolf. -Werewolves can shift between human and wolf at any time in this fic, not just on a full moon - The full moon makes a werewolf more primal. i.e. wanting to run, wanting to stay shifted as a wolf. It also makes the wolves more drawn to their mates and more protective

also as a little warning I am not well versed in werewolf lore, so if anything in this fic is way far off I apologize.

fic is below the cutoff

Your stallion's hooves slosh in the mud as you canter, riding towards a little area near Valentine that you’re planning to camp at for the night. The moon is full tonight, resting high in the sky and casting the night in an eerie, pale glow with dark shifting shadows. For the last few weeks you've been on the run, sleeping under the stars or in abandoned houses and buildings as you drift further and further away from Saint Denis. It wasn't your fault really. The man you killed? Well he deserved it. But every action has consequences… You’ve been drifting since it happened, never staying in one place too long. Parts of you miss your old life, the structure of society and sleeping in a bed. But the freedom that your current life offers is unmatched.

You've made it all the way up to the cliffs now. It would probably be safe to stick around, surely you're far enough away by now. But an itch under your skin urges you to keep running, to get far away so that they will never find you. Pushing the doubts out of your mind, you whistle, and hear a bark in answer from your Australian Shepherd, Marley. He's running beside your black thoroughbred, Ares, just as eager as you to set up camp for the night.

After some convincing that the law won't find you this far north, you slow Ares down to a trot, passing by a lightly wooded area along the train tracks. Beyond the trees is a small opening. It's big enough for you to comfortably set up a little camp, but wooded enough to protect you from the near constant drabble of rainfall, and more importantly any wandering eyes from the tracks. You deem the spot safe for the night, whistling for Marley to follow as you trot through the treeline.

It's been a tough few weeks. Your clothes have been growing a little looser around your frame, and your little stash of money from your father’s savings has depleted to nothing. You don't know how to hunt, you're from the city. With no means to get food, your options have depleted to two: steal or starve. There's already a bounty on your head and you don't plan on increasing it, but you know what they say about desperation. Twice now you've stolen saddlebags off of tethered horses in search of food or money. You've rationed your supplies enough to get you this far, but now? Well you're pretty well screwed.

Hopping down from Ares with a pat of gratitude, you reach into one of the stolen saddlebags in search of something useful. Something soft touches your hand, and you pull out some clothes. There's two shirts and two pairs of jeans. With a sigh, you shove the clothes back into the bag. They're of no use. They're way too big for you, but maybe you can repurpose the cloth later. You step around Ares’ backside to reach into the other side of the bag. Luckily, you find two pieces of salted beef.

“Well, we got dinner, boy.” You smile, tossing one up into the air and watching as Marley catches it in his mouth.

You don't have a tent, never got one after escaping Saint Denis, and you don't have a bedroll either. So as per usual, you opt to find shelter under a large oak tree, laying on your saddle blanket and resting your head on your saddle in the dirt. It makes a decent pillow, and it provides Ares with some relief for the night. After finishing your dinner, you eye your boys. Ares is lying in the grassy patch ahead of you, enjoying the subtle rainfall after a long day’s run, and Marley curls up in the grass at your side.

“Don't worry boys, we’ll find somewhere more permanent soon, alright?” You whisper to them, almost drifting to sleep. You try to stay awake to watch the night. The moon is so full, so bright, unlike any night you’ve seen before. It's equally beautiful and mysterious. The grass dances in the breeze, shining under the moon’s white light while being tapped by slow sprinkling rain. Your eyes slip shut… and Marley barks.

You know Marley. He’s your best friend, and Marley only barks at danger. Immediately you sit up on the saddle blanket, gripping the handle of your knife out of instinct.

“What is it boy?” You whisper, scanning the treeline to no avail. Ares has stood up, and is whinnnying, stomping his feet and tossing his head in trepidation.

Every hair on the dog’s back is standing straight up, and he bares his teeth towards the eastern side of the forest with a low growl. Your brows knit together, as you see no lights or signs of anything.

“Marley, what's the matter?” You coo, reaching out to calm the dog, but he's too quick. He barks, and takes off into the east side of the forest.

“Shit, Marley!” You yell after the dog.

With a sigh, you run over to Ares, not even bothering to put the saddle back on. You sit on him bareback, quickly urging the stallion into the forest after your dog. It's difficult to navigate the dark forest, but Ares needs no guidance as he weaves around trees and jumps over fallen logs after your dog. You have to hang on for dear life as he jumps a particularly large log, as it's much harder to sit without the aid of your saddle. Slowing Ares down to a slow trot, you stick two fingers on your lip and whistle as loud as you can. It's too dark to see anything, and the rain has picked up, soaking your hair and causing rivulets of water to drip into your eyes and drench your clothes.

You hear his returning bark, and you spur Ares in the direction of the familiar sound. After cantering around a few more trees, you spot Marley. He’s cowering on the ground, shaking with his head on the ground in submission. At first you’re afraid he’s been hurt, and you jump down from your stallion to approach the dog.

“Marley…?” You whisper, slowly approaching him.

The breath leaves your lungs when you hear it; The loudest howl you have ever heard. It’s mangled and painful, and so, so close. Your heart beats rapidly, time slows, and you can feel the moment its eyes are on you. Slowly, you turn around.

In front of you is the largest wolf you have ever seen in your life. Well, you’ve never seen a wolf other than in the paper but this wolf- there's something different. It’s a male, surely the alpha of his pack, if he has one. He has a sandy blonde coat, broad head and shoulders, and even standing on all fours, the wolf is almost as tall as you. But the most stark detail is his eyes. They are bright, a green-blue mixture that can be compared to the blend of the tide and the sky. There’s something so human about his gaze that you’re almost knocked to the ground by its strength. The wolf’s eyes are locked onto your own, and it tries to step towards you, but stops suddenly and cries out in pain. Your eyebrows draw together, and you step around the right side of the massive wolf. His eyes stay on yours, and suddenly you feel no fear. It’s like you’re supposed to be here, you're supposed to find him. It causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and a dull pressure to buzz in your chest, but you ignore it, continuing your observation of the animal.

“Oh, you poor thing.” You whisper under your breath upon the sight of his mangled, bloody back leg. It's caught in a particularly nasty bear trap, who knows how long he’s been stuck here. You eye the wolf carefully for a moment, and when you sense no aggression, you step forward. The trap is a pressure lock, and you can dismantle it with your bare hands. Determined, you wipe your hands on your jeans.

“Alright, now I’m gonna set you free, but you can't eat me, okay?”

You swear the wolf chortles at your comment, and you lean down in the mud, pressing down on the bear trap with all your might. It clicks a few times, meaning that it’s close to opening. You stop pushing the trap and gasp in shock when you feel the wolf press his nose into your waist, inhaling deeply as if he is savoring your scent. You stutter, and quickly continue pressing down on the trap until it fully snaps open. The wolf takes one full deep breath of your scent, and then throws his head up towards the full moon and howls. It's so loud that your ears almost hurt, but it's not nearly as strong as the pressure in your chest, the unfamiliar buzz that is threatening to rip you in two. You clutch at your rib, gasping in shock when the wolf brings his head back down to look into your eyes. The wolf’s blue irises have been replaced with two deep crimson circles that stare back at you. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can hear it. But just as quickly as you found him, he is gone. He turned tail and ran, limping away on three legs. You’re left in shock, mouth agape, sitting against the wet forest floor.

— two weeks later —

You search through the bottom of the same leather bag that you’ve checked three times, foolishly hoping to find some food for you and Marley. You need to find something soon, or you’re going to have to venture into town, which may or may not end up with your neck in a noose. With a sigh, you toss the bag on the ground by your campfire. Tears threaten to fall as you pet your shepherd dog, apologizing for the lack of dinner. Ares is already laying in the grass, and you decide to hit the hay as well. Like every night, Marley curls up beside you while you try to fall asleep. His steady breathing, and eventually his snores almost lull you to sleep, but you’ve been having trouble sleeping. For the past two weeks all you’ve been able to think about is him. You know what he is now, you remember the stories that your Pa used to tell you. The legends of beasts in the west, far more dangerous than the outlaws inhabiting it. Well, they weren’t just stories. You think of him every night, wondering why he ran, why he’s this far east in the first place. Tonight is no different, in fact the ache in your ribcage is especially strong tonight. You’ve felt it ever since that night.

Eventually, you’re able to quiet your mind, blinking foggily as sleep overtakes your senses. Just as your eyes begin to flutter shut, two blue circles blink from behind the treeline, and then you fall asleep.

— the next day —

The evening sun wakes you up, surprisingly warm despite the cold day. The light filters through the trees, casting your face in a yellow glow. You'd slept almost the entire day, but you needed it. You haven't been sleeping well, too busy thinking of the wolf. You yawn, sitting up and stretching your arms before checking for your boys. Marley is chewing on a stick beside the charcoal left over from the campfire, and Ares has his head to the ground, grazing on some fresh grass. As you go to stand up, something fiery red catches your eyes and you snap your neck in its direction. About five feet away from your makeshift bedroll is a fox. It's been killed, perfectly hunted in such a manner that the pelt is in perfect condition. With your brows drawn together, you lean over and pick up the fox. Two neat, large canine teeth marks have punctured the animal's neck.

This was him.

You're overcome with relief at the fact that he's okay. After he'd run off you weren't sure where he went, or if he had a pack, and someone to fix his wound. You've been thinking about the man for weeks, wondering what he looks like, sounds and acts like, what his name is. Quickly you pull out your hunting knife, taking your time to skin the animal neatly. Every cut is articulate, something you learned from working for the trapper in Saint Denis. You know how to clean, cut and cook an animal, just not how to actually hunt one. You rest the red pelt fur down against the dirt to dry, and then get to work on your fire. Marley brings you back enough twigs and sticks to get a fire going, and before long you're placing nice cuts of meat over the fire, cooking a decent meal for the first time in a while. Marley seems grateful as well, coming over to the campfire to check on the food with his mouth watering.

It's a good breakfast, well dinner. You don't have much to season the meat with, but a few pieces of oregano manage just fine. You and Marley share the fox, saving the rest of it for the following days. With the day pretty much over before you've even started it, you pull out your journal.

Ever since that night in the woods, I feel this ache. It's like a rope. I don't understand it much, but… it's pulling me to him. I know it is. He left me a fox- first good meal we've had in a day. That's gotta mean something, right?

Your fountain pen stops on the paper, and some ink pools out of it, leaving an ink blot. Your eyes widen at the sound of a twig snapping, and the feeling in your ribs intensifies. You carefully close the leather journal, setting it down on the ground before pulling your knees up to your chin and smiling.

"Come out. I know you're here." You call out boldly, standing up from the ground and facing the forest in the direction of the snap. You can feel eyes on you, but you can't pinpoint his exact location. Behind you, Ares begins to spook, pawing at the ground and snorting in irritation. Marley growls, and you follow his gaze until you see the wolf.

He's even more beautiful in the daylight. Now you can really see the contrasts in his coat color, like brindle between tan and brown. His eyes are just as striking without the added glow from the moon, and now they shine bright blue. He steps out from the forest slowly, head down to placate you. He steps right up to you, almost eye to eye. The buzzing in your chest is so strong, like the rope is pulled so tight that it's on the verge of snapping.

"You ain't no regular wolf… I've heard the legends, but I didn't think there would be any of you this far east…"

The wolf's eyes close and he nudges his head into your side, one again inhaling your scent. You're not sure why he does it, but you don't mind. Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to the wide spot between his ears. You expected his fur to be coarse, but you're wrong. It's soft, like thick layers of silk. Your hand glides over his head, petting his ears while he leans further into you.

"Thank you for the fox." You whisper, smiling sheepishly at the familiar stranger.

Slowly, he turns around, going towards where your saddle blanket is laid out on the ground. He gently takes the serape blanket in his maw, backing up and dragging it with him until he's a bit away from you, hidden in the shadows of some trees. You watch on, confused, turning around a few times to coo to your animals. You can hear some growling, some uncomfortable joint cracking, and then to your surprise, the exasperated groan of a man. Your eyebrows dart up in surprise, and your jaw drops when he steps out of the shadows.

He's the most attractive man you've ever seen. His wolf form is a perfect match to his human form, he has tanned, sun-kissed skin, peppered with freckles. He's covering the lower half of his naked body with the blanket, but it doesn't hide his strong, chiseled chest. Clearly he takes care of himself. His build is muscular and broad. His hair is the same sandy blonde as his wolf's coat, and those eyes, they're just as beautiful now as they are as a wolf's. You don't realize that you're staring until he talks.

"You ain't afraid of me?" He questions, almost unbelieving that you haven't run away yet. His brows knit together just enough for a petite line to make itself evident on his forehead.

"No… you've been nothing but kind and you've helped me. Hell, you coulda ate me." You chuckle.

At the mention of that night, you remember the trap and his injury.

"How's your leg?" You ask. Your eyes move down his right calf and you see a freshly pink, rough scar marking the wound where only two weeks ago he was torn into. No human could ever heal that fast, it must be a werewolf thing.

"S'healed. Got fixed up in no time." He says, drawl low and deep. He moves over towards the fire and sits on the ground, you follow.

"What are you doin' out here anyway? Ain't safe, 'specially not by yourself." He inquires, making sure he's covered with the blanket as he looks to you for an answer.

You're not sure how you know, but you know that you can tell this man the truth. And yet you find yourself hesitating, so instead you rebuttal his question.

"I could ask you the same, mister." You quirk, smiling a bit as Marley trots over to sit by you.

"Well what's your name, then? Finally get to speak to ya, I should know your name." You ask.

You're shocked that somehow your manners slipped and you forgot to introduce yourself, but the introduction feels… odd. It's like you've known him for years. You tell him your name, to which he smiles, nodding his head like he approves, or is proud of it.

"My name's Arthur Morgan." He chortles. As if the situation isn't indecent enough, you just remember that you have an extra pair of larger clothes from the stolen bag that might fit Arthur perfectly.

"Oh, I have some clothes that might fit you. Don't even bother askin' how I came about these but- should be clean and hopefully your size." You say, standing up and grabbing the stolen saddlebag of clothes. Your boots squish in the wet grass as you bring the bag over to Arthur.

He takes the bag, and with no shame, drops the blanket to the ground.

Oh.

So apparently the part of his body that was earlier covered by the blanket was the best part. You can't help it, and he doesn't mind. You watch as he grabs clothes from the bag. There's a trail of soft brown hair that trickles from his chest hair and dips down to the base of his shaft. You gulp, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to look away from the absolute masterpiece that rests between his legs.

When Arthur is decent, you turn around, cheeks still flushed bright pink from shock and embarrassment. He hands the saddle bag out to you, which you take and toss back towards your saddle on the ground. Both of you glance to the west, realizing that the sun is setting and it will be dark soon.

"I better get goin'. It'll be dark soon…" Arthur whispers, as if there's something he wants to do or say but can't bring himself to. His eyes look to the ground, and he tips his head to you before turning around.

To his surprise, you grab his wrist. The tether between you two grows so strong that it hurts.

"Arthur, please don't go. Why don't you stay the night? Head back to wherever it is you go to in the morning." You practically whimper.

He doesn't even have to think, of course he'll stay, for you he will.

— four hours later —

The night is cold, very cold. The combined effect of your lack of coat and the slowly approaching winter doesn't help. You're curled into the tightest ball you can manage, hugging your knees and shivering. It's miserable, the type of cold that seeps into your bones. Arthur had shifted before laying down for the night, and you can hear his steady breathing behind you. He hasn't slept all night. You've drifted in and out of sleep, but he has stayed awake all night, watching you, protecting you, checking the perimeter a few times.

As soon as you begin to shiver, Arthur stands up. He circles you a few times, whining as if he is debating with himself over something. But as you whimper, miserable from the night's cruel nature, Arthur trots over. He lays at your back, and you practically moan at the relief. Arthur is so warm. You turn around, curling yourself into him. His fur is like the softest blanket you've ever felt, and his body radiates heat. It's cathartic.

"Why are you helpin' me? Bein' so kind?" You whisper, nuzzling your nose into his warm fur.

Arthur presses his wet nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent once again. Just like the first night you met him, the color in his eyes bleeds to red. It's beautiful, and you look into them, curious about the change of color. You can feel that tug in your chest again, it's strong tonight, but you ignore it, pressing yourself into his frame until blissful sleep finally overcomes you.

When you wake up he's gone.

— twelve days later —

Arthur… I saw him up on the ridge above my camp today. I don't know if he runs in a pack, or why in the hell he's so far east, but… he keeps an eye on me. I swear I see those green eyes just beyond the treeline when I fall asleep. I can feel his presence when he's nearby, like something is pulling me to him. I have this drive to be around him in a way that I can't explain, like I need him… but I haven't seen him since that cold night.

You steady your hand, focusing on the old oak tree ahead of you. As you exhale, you release the knife, smiling as it lands directly into the thick trunk of the oak tree.

You trod over to the tree, bending down to pick up the few knives that you've lodged into the tree, and the two that landed on the ground. Marley barks excitedly, and you turn around to find the source.

Arthur…

He steps out of the woods slowly, head held down as he approaches you in his wolf form. He's breathing heavily, as if he was running for a while to get here.

"Been wonderin' why you haven't come to see me. Had me worried some hunter had you mounted on their wall." You joke, reaching out to pet Arthur's head. His eyes slip shut, and he pushes his nose into you, almost roughly, as if he needs this like a starved man. He once again inhales your scent deeply.

It's then that you notice something in his maw. Your eyebrows knit together as you hold out your hand. He opens his mouth, dropping a rolled up piece of paper and a wooden wolf into your hand. You're confused as to why he didn't just tell you whatever it is the note says, but you don't have time to ask as he turns tail and runs away, eyes red.

"Arthur, don't go!" You cry out to no avail.

The buzz in your chest grows as he runs and you ignore the ache, looking down to the items in your hands. The little wooden wolf is beautiful. It's been hand carved from a piece of oak and a knife. Tears well in your eyes as the ache in your chest grows, and you open the note.

I'm sorry. I can't stay around you. It's hard to explain, but it's better if I leave you be. That ache in your chest, like something pulling you? I feel it too, and more than anything, I wanna be with you, but it's not fair for me to do that to you, darlin. ‐ Arthur.

Rivulets of tears run down your cheeks as you sit on the ground, hugging your knees. You've been doing research, stopping into libraries to read books on legends of western wolves and lycanthropes. You've learned how they used to run in large packs, how they were hunted almost to extinction. But most importantly, you learned about their mates.

They can't choose their mates, instead they are pulled together by the moon. You think over the feeling in your chest, how many times you've written about the invisible tether that pulls the two of you to each other.

Is Arthur your mate…?

And if he is, why is he leaving you?

— two weeks later —

The moon is full tonight, and all you can think of is Arthur. You know he'll be out running tonight, and you hope that he comes by. You haven't seen him in weeks, and it's only made your ache to be around him stronger. Maybe the moon will alter his control, drive him to come see you. You’ve been stopping in at libraries in town, sneaking just enough to hide your face from the passerbys. Every book on lycanthropes that you've been able to find has been thoroughly analyzed. You know why he’s hiding. And dammit, if he would just come back you could convince him to stay. You rest a stray leaf in between the pages of your book to mark your page before setting it down on the ground. Marley trots over and you chuckle as he lays down on your bedroll.

It's late, past midnight as you stand up and start to dress down for the night. You’re not worried about wandering eyes, it's dark, and anyone who steps foot in your camp to look will be met with a bullet. You strip your jeans and shirt, standing bare in the grassy opening. You run your fingers through your hair, before reaching onto the ground for a clean shirt. Just as you go to grab the cloth, you hear it. A low, deep, growl resonates from the forest, it’s him. Through the opening in the trees you can see glowing red eyes, and relief washes over you. His crimson orbs are locked into the little wooden wolf that is tied around your neck.

“I know why you left, Arthur, why you think it would be best for me.” You whisper, extending your hand out as Arthur steps out from the woods slowly. His paws are massive, expertly stepping over the terrain as he inches forward.

“I've been reading and learning about wolves… I'm your mate, aren't I?” You say, barely above a whisper. Arthur leans in and licks your collarbone lightly. His eyes are so beautiful, deep red like roses.

“I feel it all the time. It’s like a tether, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You sigh as Arthur just stands there, listening to what you’re saying.

“Be great if I could hear what you’re thinkin’.” You bite a little, irritated that you are always talking but can never hear him.

You watch as he shifts. It's a fluid movement, much more graceful than you would have expected, and in just a few moments he is standing in front of you. His eyes have returned to their soft blue, and you lean in to press your hand against his cheek. Both of you are completely bare before the other, and yet neither of you are uncomfortable. He looks to you with a question.

“You would tie yourself, you would mate to a stranger?” He asks, eyes glowing red for just a moment on the latter half of the sentence. You chuckle at his misconception. Arthur gently takes your wrist in his hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the tender skin on the inside of your wrist. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches in your throat.

“Arthur, you’re not a stranger,” you chuckle, “In this time I’ve known you, you've shown me your character time and time again. I was hungry, cold, alone, and now I’m not.”

You both feel a buzz of electricity run through you, and Arthur groans deeply as he wraps his hands around your soft waist.

“Arthur, I- I need something, but I don’t know what it is. Please-” You moan against him, the tether clouding your mind. He presses his lips to your forehead, gently kissing down your temples.

“I know what you’re feelin’ and I can make it better, but darlin’ you know how this works, right?” He asks, squeezing your hips a little. Something comes over you and you can't feel anything but him, you need him.

“I want to be yours, Arthur.” You mewl, pressing your nose into his chest. Arthur growls so deep, it breaks you out of your trance for a moment. His blue eyes lock onto yours.

“You look at me. Don’t let the bond fog your head, you want this?” He asks, gripping you tightly.

“Yes.” You whisper with more clarity than you’ve ever felt. For the first time in your life, you feel at home. This is where you should be, what you are meant for.

He’s yours

Arthur’s eyes remain locked onto yours as he lifts your wrist up to his lips. Your breath quickens in anticipation as he gently bites down on the side of your wrist.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Suddenly you are whole. You are part of something bigger, you are with him. His other half. Your souls are permanently bonded and you can feel him all around you. You gasp at the raw emotion of it all. The tether between you and him pulls even tighter for a moment before it snaps and releases. There is no need for it anymore, as you are one. Tears fall down your cheeks as you lean up to kiss Arthur. Everything is right when your lips crash together. He moves against you as emotions sweep through you like a wave, crashing and swirling together.

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

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amorgansgal · 2 years

Note

Request idea:

Reader braiding Arthur's hair and putting flower into his hairstyle🥺

I love writing very soft, fluffy moments with Arthur, so thank you for your request. Hope it's ok that it's a rather short hc.

You’ve managed to grab a quiet moment by the river bank and are enjoying the peaceful place, when Arthur greets you with a nod and sits down in front of you.

He’s using the last dwindling daylight to fix a rifle and doesn’t seem to notice you beginning to stare at the back of his head.

Usually it’s hidden by his hat, but he seems to have taken it off as the evening is so warm. And it looks like Arthur’s not been to barber in quite some time. His hair almost reaches his shoulders.

At first you simply run your fingers through it, enjoying the little rumbled purr Arthur lets out. You stroke his scalp and he nearly forgets to continue his repairs, leaning back into your touch and briefly closing his eyes.

It reminds you of when you were younger and your sister would sit in front of you, so you could comb and braid her hair.

Perhaps old habits die hard, because you find yourself plaiting Arthur’s hair into a tiny little braid. You smile once you’re done. You pluck a daisy from the ground and add it to the braid as a last flourish.

Then you’re contented to sit together and just watch the sun dip under the horizon, the sky streaked with orange, pink and gold.

Arthur’s relaxed entirely against you, his head just under your chin and resting against your shoulder. Your hands run up and down his chest, occasionally taking hold of his hand and stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

You both forget about the braid and perhaps, fortunately, it’s Charles who sees it first and asks Arthur about it. Arthur chuckles and thanks you for it, though you’re even more glad when he doesn’t pull it out, just lowers his hat a little to hide it from people like Micah and Bill.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x gn/reader #arthur morgan x g/n reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan headcanon #arthur morgan hc

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yourlocallygrowngay · 28 days

Text

Kiss of Purple, Blue and Green

Summary: After a drunken night together, Arthur sees a love bite on your neck and mistakens it for a bruise.

Warnings: bit of angst and a whole lot of fluff, suggestive themes

Word count: 2,361

Ask and you shall receive. Here's a one shot of the scenario I posted a few days ago ;)

Check this out on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54854827

Last night was still a bit of a blur, pieces of it manifesting disorderly, like trying to fit puzzle pieces into the wrong spots. All you knew for certain was two things: the pounding headache that was making you wince at each sound, and… that you and Arthur Morgan had been up to no good.

You shivered in the cold morning air, pulling the blanket over your trembling shoulders as you sat down in front of the last embers of the campfire, a steaming cup of coffee in your hands to warm you up. You could tell the sweet nectar was doing its job, as you were feeling more awake already. You thanked the Lord for coffee.

But you cursed him out the very next second, because you felt someone sitting next to you and you froze, your entire body stiffening. It wasn’t nice company.

“Hello there, cowpoke!” The mustached man roared, sending a wave of pain directly to your already aching temples.

“Micah… not now” you begged, features scrunched up in pain. Turning away from him, you downed the rest of the coffee in silence.

But you knew Micah. He wasn’t resisting the opportunity to have his fun with you in one of your rare vulnerable moments. He spun you around rudely, and grinned under his blonde stache when you recoiled and slapped his filthy hands away.

“Geez, does the liquor at least make you gentler? I’d have to ask Mr. Morgan about that!” he sneered loudly, prompting you to look around, alarmed.

“What do you want?” you hissed, moving in closer to shush him. Micah’s expression relaxed.

“Me? Oh, nothing, nothing at all!” he got up and paced in front of you, grabbing his belt. “If you want the whole camp knowing what you got up to, that is.”

His stupid, cocky smile made you want to punch it off his face, but you tried to keep your composure. Micah was Dutch’s second in command now, you didn’t think it smart to attack him like that. Inside, anger was boiling in your chest, filling your gaze with venom. The mere thought of him knowing what you did (something that was nebulous even to you, and so very private) made your skin crawl. Was he in Valentine too yesterday? Did he spy on y’all?

The man approached you, lowering his voice condescendingly. This would stay between the two of you, if… you did something for him. You were sitting there, trying to interpret his ominous request, you heart beating steadily faster as you felt cornered by this damned fool.

“What is it?” you sighed, wondering if being blackmailed by Micah was worth it, if it meant your foolish actions remained concealed.

This time, he got so close you could feel his foul breath on your nose. You grimaced and tried to suppress a gag. Man, he was disgusting, both inside and out. He cupped your chin, squeezing it firmly. He had just parted his lips to speak when you heard loud, thundering footsteps get closer and closer to your position. Next thing you knew, Micah was tumbling backwards, narrowly avoiding the campfire.

“DON’TCHA DARE TOUCH ‘EM, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

You tilted your head upwards in shock. There he was, the man you spent the night with; Arthur Morgan, a man you knew for years and who you never saw lose his temper was there, fists clenched and a murderous rage obscuring his usually sweet blue eyes. A man you had witnessed murder, steal and intimidate, yet his violence always felt calculated, measured in a way, but not this time.

And it was gone in seconds. He turned to you, his fury fizzled away into a worried expression as he asked you if you were okay. You nodded, dazed, still processing what had happened.

You both glanced at Micah, who was still trying to regain his balance after the fall, wiping away the mud and grass from his pants. His expression was his usual, douchy one, but you saw the genuine panic and the fear in his eyes when he was on the ground: he was scared of Arthur. It was clear as day, from the way he kept a safe distance from the both of you, his wounded ego showing. Arthur put on his intimidating gaze and scowled at him until he disappeared into his tent.

“So, what did the bastar-“ he interrupted himself, noticing something on your neck. There it was again, the rage. You saw his face become completely red with anger as he gently hovered his fingers on your bruise, the contrast between the two baffling. You tried to think of some words to defuse him, but before you had a chance to say anything, he shot up and started yelling at the whole camp.

“Okay, which one of ya bastards did this?! Jus’ lemme find out…” Arthur snarled, quite literally growling the threat like a rabid animal. He frantically looked around for the culprit, only finding tired eyes and people still in their night clothes blinking at him, incredulous and concerned at his unusual display of anger.

“Arthur…” you tried to get his attention, but his mind was miles away from you. He wanted justice for whoever dared to put their filthy hands on your precious skin. He was pacing menacingly, glaring at the other men in the gang.

“Come out, ya goddamn coward!!” he shouted, spelling the word “goddamn” even more harshly and slowly than usual. Boy, was he angry… he was starting to scare you, too. You sat there, frozen, pondering what to do.

Javier, Sean and Bill exchanged confused looks, standing each in front of their tents. Sean was the only one who darted a look at you, and you widened your eyes at him, shaking your head in disbelief. But Arthur interpreted that differently and marched towards the Irishman threateningly.

“I’m watching you, boah” he threatened, but Sean was difficult to intimidate, and kept that dumb smirk on his face. The older man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, but Sean assured him he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Leave the boy alone, Arthur” Javier intervened in his usual pacifying tone. “Besides, wasn’t you out with them last night?”

Arthur kept his grip on Sean, but his expression softened a bit, his scrunched eyebrows trying to remember the events of last night. Little by little, it came back to him: you had been out on a mission, robbing a stagecoach, and then… he vaguely recalled stopping at the saloon in Valentine.

He let go of the kid and you sighed in relief. You approached him, grabbed his arm and walked him to the edge of camp, where you two could have a private conversation.

You thought you were hiding it well, but Arthur still noticed the fright in your eyes. He realized he had gone too far.

“I’m so sorry I scared ya, darlin’…” he apologized, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard it, his eyes firmly on his feet. “That was way outta line… it’s jus’…” he gestured aimlessly, struggling to find the words.

You took one of his hands in yours, gently kissing his bruised knuckles. You got was he was trying to say. When it came to you, all rationality went out of the window. He was sweet on you for a while now, and he was incredibly protective… this was just the first time you’d seen his feelings in action.

“I know. If someone hurt you, I’d probably do the same” you said gently, and his face relaxed into a smile.

You pointed at your neck, smiling in amusement. “This, however? All you.” you laughed, and then cracked up some more at Arthur’s sheer panic.

“Did… did I hurtcha?!” he gasped. He couldn’t stand the idea, not even for a second. It would destroy him if it was true. He’d never forgive himself.

“No, you fool!” you elbowed him in his ribs and explained that that was no bruise. It was a love bite.

“A… what?” he repeated, blinking rapidly. He never heard of such thing. You tried to explain that when he kissed your neck, he did it so… fervently, that he left a small mark just under your jawbone.

“Oh.” His cheeks lit up in a bright, tomato red and his pupils dilated in realization. You two kissed last night? He was starting to remember now…

The stagecoach robbing went exactly as planned. Of course it did: you and Arthur were a great team, excellent criminal minds that foresee every possible outcome and handle everything expertly. You made off with quite a lot of money and jewelry, so you both decided to celebrate the successful heist with a few drinks in Valentine.

“Just a couple, we still have to go back to camp to deposit the loot” you reminded your partner, putting a coin on the counter and gesturing towards the bartender.

“Of course, no crazy business tonight” the cowboy promised, downing his first shot.

Of course, you were both full of shit. The drinks kept coming, and coming, and coming, until the next thing you remember was you waking up in Arthur’s tent, his arms wrapped around you.

And there was a room… it had a bed, so maybe it was at the saloon?

“Did… did we share a room at the saloon?!” you asked Arthur, alarmed. He was staring straight ahead, hand on his chin, as the scene revealed itself to him.

He saw your exposed neck, head tilted backwards into the pillow as he peppered kisses all over your collarbone and chest, stopping at the edge of your jawline to suck on the tender skin that bruised so quickly, so easily. He heard your moans and his name repeated over and over in delight, as you went deeper and deeper, the friction of skin against skin delicious and exasperating at the same time.

He felt breathless now, his face burning unbearably in what? Arousal? Shame? Maybe both. He didn’t dare to look you in the eye, but seeing him that flustered was enough to prove to you what had happened. You did drunkenly sleep together in that room in Smithfield’s saloon. Some recollections came back to you, making your stomach flutter and your abdomen warm with desire. You saw Arthur in his entirety, remembering his touch on your bare skin, his tongue on your neck and chest, the hair a tangled mess that covered his face. His figure revealed itself in all its vulnerability, the mask of tough outlaw crumbling to reveal a tender, passionate lover that, even in his inebriated state, made sure to put your pleasure first. You silently watched him now, trying to piece together the two sides of him: the side that you always knew, and the new one that opened up to you last night.

Arthur looked back at you, interpreting your surprise as hesitation.

“You regret that, don’tcha?” he asked, an almost imperceptible note of sadness in his tone. “I do too, in a way.”

You were not sure whether to take that as an insult. “What do you mean?”

Arthur walked towards you, taking your hands in his. He lowered his voice into a whisper that covered you in goosebumps. His expression was hard to interpret.

“I regret not making our first time special.” He rubbed his thumb on your hand lovingly, smiling at you. There they were, the eyes you always knew, those breathtaking blues you would lose yourself in every day.

You tucked a hair strand behind his ear and lingered there, caressing his scruffy cheek. Arthur leaned right into your hand, melting under your touch.

“Oh, Arthur” you smiled at him, radiant. “It was special, because it was you.” You grabbed his collar and gently pulled him closer, then put your lips on his for a brief, chaste kiss.

“Nah, I could’ve done it right for ya” he shook his head, as always rejecting the compliment. One of these days you had to make him accept one, you promised yourself.

“Now I’m curious. What would you have done differently?”

Arthur took a moment to think. “Well… for starters, I wouldn’t have been that drunk!”

You chuckled. “Then, I’d book a nice bath for the two of us, with some good wine…” as he talked, he fidgeted with the collar of your shirt, resting his hands on your chest. “Then we’d have some dinner, maybe a walk… and then we’d go back to our room, to sleep in a nice, comfortable bed.”

“That does sound nice…” you remarked, almost disappointed that it wasn’t how it actually went. “Although that’s where it did end. In that nice bed.” You joked, making the man grin. “I guess you’re right” he laughed, pulling you closer.

“Besides,” you continued, lowering your tone, “there’s always the next time, y’know…” you purred, putting a lot on emphasis on the word “next” and giving him a playful smile. Arthur’s eyes lit right up, and he licked his lips.

“S’that so? And when is that?” he asked, his voice so deep it boomed inside his chest, so filled with desire that the warmth in you lower belly returned unannounced. Before you could answer, he was kissing you again, taking his time with it. His stubble tickled your skin, so thick and rough compared to his soft lips. You put your hands around his neck, one cupping his nape as he pushed you against the tree, lost in his affection for you.

“Get a room, you two!” you both jolted at the voice, realizing you weren’t as well hidden from the group as you’d thought. You smiled, embarrassed, watching Hosea wink at you as he walked away.

“Well, there goes our little secret, Arthur” you exhaled, laughing nervously.

“A secret? Who do ya think is responsible for pairin’ us up on every damn mission?” the cowboy laughed, pointing his thumb at Hosea’s back.

“C’mon, let’s go get some breakfast, darlin’.” After placing a kiss on your forehead, Arthur took your hand as you both went back to the group, relieved to not have to hide your love anymore.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #let me know what you think!#hope the link works #i will make another post for the ao3 link just in case #enjoy!!

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