#arthur x sandy
Text
Painted Red 🖤
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)
Words: 3444 words
Ao3 Link
Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.
Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.
Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.
Chapter One - The Deputy
[chapter 2]
“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door.
The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.
Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls.
Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.
“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.
“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?”
You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”
“That new Deputy’s back!”
You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”
“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.”
“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.
Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself.
With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow.
You turn to Minnie-
“You ready?”
“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”
“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”
-
Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write.
Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta.
As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you.
“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.
“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly.
She’s not impressed.
“Just get to work. Make Some Money.”
As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.
It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor.
That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention.
“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear.
“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up.
Make conversation.
“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?”
The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen.
He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it.
“Excuse me?”
You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.
Smile.
“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.”
His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.
“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”
“Worse,”
He rubs his jaw.
“Oh?”
“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”
A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.
Perform.
“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…”
You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.
“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.”
The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too.
“So which is it, Deputy?”
You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.
There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.
“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”
“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”
“Not really, no.”
A hint of regret in his voice.
“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”
You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-
“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.”
And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table.
Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.
“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.”
“Arthur Callahan.”
Arthur.
He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall.
“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair.
Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele.
“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”
“Huh?”
“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-”
He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish.
“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.”
“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?”
“A bit.”
That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.
“What do you paint then?”
His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further.
“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”
“Where’d ya learn?”
And that is a question too far.
You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.
“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh.
You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat.
He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?
“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”
You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.
“If I let you go, will you behave?”
“Will you show me your drawings?”
“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no.
“I’ll behave.”
He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.
“I promise.”
Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.
“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.”
You nod.
He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm.
“Hands behind your back.”
With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste.
He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table.
“Here. But that’s your lot.”
Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you.
“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?
“Wait-”
To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?
“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.
“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”
“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”
He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.
“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.
“That’s my bedroom.”
“Oh?”
“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”
You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-
“Mister Callahan!”
You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention.
“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty.
“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.
The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious.
“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-''
Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on.
“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?”
“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?”
Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head.
“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”
For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.
“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”
Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.
He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”
“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist.
Don’t be a stranger.
“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.
#rdr2#arthur morgan#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan x fem!reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2 smut#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x oc#painted red
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What a Life (Morgan & Family: A Fluff Dump, Pt. 2)
credit to @foundynnel i believe for 2 of the edits above
𑁦𐂂𑁦
RDR2 | Arthur Morgan x Female Reader | Rating: General | tumblr masterlist | Ao3 | Part 1
Summary: Part of a modern au (and post gang) fluff dump work. Just a scene in which Arthur and reader enjoy secluded family life with their very young son. Arthur is a cute and loving dad and is adored by reader.
Tags: fluff without plot, family fluff, romantic fluff, domestic setting, parenthood
Word count: 2,660
In the cool shadow of the cabin, thrown long by the late morning sun, you sit with your little son, watching him play in the sandbox. The mourning dove’s rounded, plaintive hoots are parried by the sharp, tinkling warbles of goldfinches in the nearby pine branches, and the fragrances of crisp mist and thick sod linger in the mountain air.
You watch the faint glimmer of day paint the crests of Gabriel’s cupid’s bow with light, his plump lips resting between his two rotund cheeks as he concentrates on the toys before him. The wispy feathers of his splayed lashes bow and rise with each blink. His beautiful, shimmering eyes inspect each toy, each color, each shape. Out of all the blocks, large puzzle pieces, rings, balls, and animal toys half-buried in the sand, he has landed on one. You watch the bulbous pads and segments of each tiny, clumsy finger curl to a strong, stable grasp around the edge of the object of his aim—a large block with an Appaloosa sketched and painted lovingly on the side.
“Just like your daddy,�� you whisper to yourself.
Dipping your fingers into the sand and feeling its chill envelop your skin, you look up with a smile to gaze in the direction of the stables. In the distance, you catch sight of Arthur hauling a huge saddle and its accompanying tack, a moment before he disappears through the door and into the shaded interior.
You recall the quiet rustling of his rising this morning when he’d been up before the sun, as he often is. And the way he’d kept from waking the baby in his room, intentionally leaving you to reap the reward of your son’s customary gleeful smile, his bounce in his crib, and his lifting of his arms for you.
You turn back to your eleven-month-old with a burgeoning smirk. “Wanna come help Mama make some sourdough?”
“Yeah,” he immediately chirps, recognizing nothing but the lilt of a question in your voice. But he doesn’t look up at you, still captured by the blocks and puzzle pieces.
You stand and take a few steps away to prompt him. “Well let’s go!” you call.
He braces himself on the sand with his palms, a moment later lifting his tush into the air. When he straightens, his brows knot, and his lips dangle from between his cheeks as he gazes down confoundedly at the discomfort of sand stuck to his flesh.
You snort a laugh as you cover the sandbox behind him. “Just go like this, Gabe Baby.”
You show him your flattened hands and slowly brush them together.
His brows don’t budge as he looks back and forth from your hands to his own, unable to fully brush them.
“Like this,” you whisper, gently taking his wrists and swiftly brushing his palms back and forth over each other.
When the sand is removed, he toddles to follow you up towards the cabin, and you carry him when you reach the oak staircase to the back door.
As you turn onto the wraparound porch, you notice Arthur now hefting a huge bale of hay by its cords into the stable, his black leather hat shading most of his face in the distance. But you like to imagine he wears a subconscious smile, now enjoying a life of simplicity, filled with nature and horses and art and family and love, tucked away from the gnarled heartache that gang life had left in its wake.
“Sandy baby,” you mumble when you arrive inside and close the back door behind you.
You promptly remove both your shoes and strip Gabriel to his diaper, tossing his sandy clothes into the hamper.
“Are you dry?” you ask vainly as he starts to toddle away. “Wait, are you dry?” You deftly hook a finger down his back and into his diaper before he can fully get away.
Peering into his diaper, you find no present. You carefully squeeze his bottom to discover no liquid deposit.
When you release him, he immediately darts down the hall. You follow and walk into the kitchen, beckoning him to join you. When he does and you bend to pick him up, he whines to be allowed to remain standing on his own.
“Well how’re you gonna see from down there?” you lightly ask.
When he shakes his head, you half-frown. It was just a couple weeks ago that eleven-month-old Gabriel began walking. Since then, he’s always wriggling out of your arms and dashing across rooms, seemingly already excited to be as independent as he can be.
At first, it stung. With the love and special intimacy of mother and son—and with even the chemistry and well-being of your bodies both dependent on the other—the two of you had been closer than peas in a pod, glued at the hip for so long. It’s always been and still is a precious bond to you, though its daily aspects continue to gradually change. And it was hard to so suddenly feel a little unneeded. But Arthur has helped you find a comfort in the balance of realizing that your feelings are only natural, and that you’ve been raising a wonderful and healthy little boy, with this change as just another bit of proof.
As well as the fact that Gabriel still likes to cherry-pick when he’s carried and when he walks on his own. You suspect that like any human, his adamant desire for independence doesn’t do one thing to hinder his deep enjoyment and fierce need of being held.
So you turn and begin pulling ingredients and dishes from the cupboard, at last going to the fridge to retrieve your sourdough starter. You begin mixing ingredients in your big bowl atop the counter, when you hear a whimper and feel a few hard tugs at your palazzos. And you smirk.
You glance down to find him with arms outstretched and upheld for you, bouncing on his tiptoes with longing. You stoop and lift him to you, hugging him to your hip and pressing a few kisses soundly to his smooth cheek.
Describing each action aloud to him, you finish mixing, dust the countertop with copious amounts of flour, and turn the bowl with your free hand to dump the dough.
“Now we knead,” you almost sing, in hushed tones.
Perched on your hip, his plump little arm drapes with familiarity and utmost contentedness over the back of your shoulder. He watches your every gesture with a mixture of restful curiosity and heightened interest.
You push the dough away and pull it towards you again and again, tucking the edges underneath as you do, to form a smooth, rounded surface on top.
“You wanna feel it? You wanna knead?” you ask.
Leaning forward, you let him reach and press his tiny hand into the supple surface of the cool dough.
“Gentle,” you say, showing him the way you keep your fingers outstretched and softly brush and pat the surface of the dough with the pads of your fingertips. “No squeezing.”
The two of you watch his little fingers delve into the pliant mass of dough, leaving a mark of small craters. When they begin to slowly bounce back, you watch his face instead of the dough.
He releases a single cooed sigh of delight as he looks at you with a bright smile, which you heartily return.
How you love, you love, you love him.
You sprinkle the dough with flour and rest it in a basket for its turn to prove. After fetching a dough you’d left proving hours before, you carefully score it with one long slice for expansion, and several small strokes for a quaint wheat kernel design on the other side.
“Mama.” Gabriel pats your sternum and rests a couple fingers past his lips.
“You hungry?” you ask.
When he nods, you brush a hand down the slope of the back of his head and kiss his temple. You add as you set him to his feet, “Let me get this in the oven, then I’ll feed you.”
After setting the parchment-papered sourdough in its cast iron dutch oven and pouring a bain marie past the paper, you place the whole thing in the oven and set a timer. You glance at the oven window with a small smile, eager to see the crispy crust on your extra-sour boule. Since you first noticed its resemblance to Gabriel’s tummy, you’ve made a tradition of kissing the top of the boule, then indelicately turning Gabriel sideways in your arms and blowing a raspberry on his bare belly, making him cackle hysterically. These days, he’s even begun giggling when you turn him in your arms and before you ever kiss his belly, already tickled by the anticipation alone.
With Gabriel in tow, you walk to the couch in the living room. Gabriel rests both arms over the seat cushion and tries to lift one leg up over the edge, but you reach your hands under his arms and pull him into your lap.
Just before you unhook your bra from its strap to nurse, the two of you hear the back door open.
Gabriel’s eyes widen, and a grin begins to pull on the corners of his mouth. “Da,” he says.
He wiggles down off the couch, and as he toddles down the hall, you listen to his bare little feet patting quietly along the hardwood floor. You smile to yourself at the precious sound, so deeply dear to you.
As you hear Arthur’s rustling, jingling presence in the doorway and the naturally firm, heavy footfalls of his work boots, you imagine him resting his black hat on the wall as his small son comes around the corner in only his diaper, bared rounded belly and all.
When you hear the playful growl and the resultant squeal and cackle, your grin splits wider.
“You’re in your nethers, baby boah!”
You can detect the pinch of a smile in Arthur’s voice and the breath of laughter with the last couple words.
More little pads of bare feet as Gabriel comes running back around the corner and down the hall. He hesitates as he toddles, turning back to ensure Arthur’s tailing, eager to play this game with his father.
Still, when Arthur leans around the corner and pulls an exaggeratedly silly face with an outright grunt, Gabriel’s little body gives a tiny jump. His squeal and adorable laughter ring out into the air. He clumsily darts into the kitchen.
When his father follows with a few long strides and the sturdy clops of his boots, he brings with him the musty scents of alfalfa hay and tanned rawhide, of trail dust and undiluted sunshine. And the two subsequently begin an elaborate game of peek-a-boo, back and forth around the island. You can’t help but laugh along at the purest sound of undiluted joy—the beauty and innocence of your own child so easily tickled and contented by life and love—as you turn on the couch and watch the pair. No matter how many times Arthur jumps out to stop him with a silly face and a low hoot or growl, Gabriel instantly screams and squeals, his body utterly racked with tightly coiled cackles.
Arthur wheezes and snickers every time.
“Oh my God, listen to him!” you laugh.
It’s always another several seconds before Gabriel totally recovers and manages to catch his breath, his laughter smoothing with each heave of air.
With the next turn of their game, Arthur lingers behind the island when Gabriel rounds it, not jumping out even when his son takes reticent steps forward, looking for him. Arthur continues to linger, even quietly backing up to hide himself, watching his son for the right moment to strike.
Finally Arthur leaps out, and Gabriel jumps with the highest squeal and loudest cackles you’ve heard yet.
You and Arthur both burst with your own laughter at his reaction.
When your son’s breathing finally evens, you call, “Gabriel, I thought you were hungry?”
“Oh, were you about to eat, son?” Arthur asks in his deep timbre. “You hungry?”
Gabriel nods and pats a hand to his belly above the rim of his diaper.
“Well, better go see Mama,” Arthur quietly grunts as he picks his son up by the underarms and sets him on his hip out of habit. Arthur lifts him over the couch back and sets him down into your lap, then remains behind the couch himself, watching over your shoulder.
After cushioning your back and adjusting him in your arms, you reach beneath your tee, unhook the front of your bra, and gently bring Gabriel to your breast to nurse. He latches on immediately, very well accustomed to your routine. A certain profound peace washes over you as you watch him. His lips flange around you as he suckles; his quiet breaths through his nose briefly pause each time he swallows; and his plump little arm rests wistfully over your chest.
Many people may look away, abashed and discomfited, unable to fit something at once both so innocent and intimate into their world. But it’s always made perfect sense to you. And maybe motherhood was a dream too quaint, one not rebellious or modern enough, seemingly not daring or adventurous enough. But it was your dream.
When Gabriel spots Arthur’s face over your shoulder, he pulls away from your breast with a growingly wry grin, clearly expecting to continue the game from moments ago. Droplets of your milk spill between you and his mouth as he voices a syllable and lifts his arm, attempting to goad Arthur into another silly face.
Arthur silently complies with cross-eyes and a sideways tongue.
Gabriel promptly giggles, and the two of you smile and chuckle at the sound.
“Don’t while he’s nursing, he’ll choke,” you lightly say.
After softly cooing and corralling Gabriel back to his feeding, you continue watching him with a contented smile. You brush your hand down over the back of his head, into the growing downy hair that curls funnily at the base of his neck. As he closes his eyes, you brush the backs of your curled fingers down over his temple, and gently trail your fingertips across the velvet flower-petal skin of his plump baby cheek.
You hear the long, relaxed sound of Arthur’s husky breath over your shoulder, a sound you know very well, especially these days.
“What a life, huh?” he quietly says.
He means to facetiously point out Gabriel’s current lot—nursing at his mother’s breast with his father at the ready to make him smile and laugh. That is, a life full of love and joy, well taken care of, and absent of a care in the world. Just as he should be for now.
It doesn’t take you a few moments, and you’re turning to look into Arthur’s cerulean-sage eyes. A knowingness resides in your gaze. Because you yourself, as well as your husband, have been given all you’d so deeply and totally longed for—and longed, a word too weak—more than you could’ve ever imagined you’d actually live to get.
“Yeah,” you quietly, pensively respond. “What a life.”
The love of your life holds your gaze, and understands.
Your love and gratefulness are immeasurable and uncontainable, filling you and stretching past the bounds of your body and being, like fragmented granules of glittering dust floating from a burst star.
Strangely enough, even with all the joy and contentment and peace, the words and the shared gaze are not without a mingling of loss and ache.
They are not gone entirely. But you both have someone now, to join you in weathering them.
You are not alone.
Arthur leans to you, and you share a few kisses, soft as breath. You turn and close your eyes a moment as he rests his forehead to your temple. And you both gaze down at your son with contented smiles.
#rdr2#arthur morgan#red dead redemption 2#red dead 2#morgan & family#morgan & family fluff dump#what a life#fluff dump#fan fic#fanfic#dad arthur morgan#father arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan x fem!reader#rdr2 fluff#arthur morgan fluff#family fluff#rdr2 fic#arthur morgan family fluff#rdr2 community#arthur morgan fic#fluff fic#wholesome#rivetingrosie4#rivetingrosie
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[dark! vampire x reader]
A/N: It's been some time since I last wrote a monster short fic, but let's write an imagine! For this one, I may write something a bit longer. but enjoy otherwise!
Warnings of: brief mentions of the death of a sibling, manipulation, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, blood drinking, Stockholm syndrome
The death of your brother comes as a surprise to those in the family and close relatives. He was relatively healthy for his age, active and not a drinker or smoker, so when he had fallen ill rather quickly with what the physician said was consumption, your heart was shattered, never to be the same it was before.
His funeral came and went, relatives you were familiar with and some you hadn't seen in years came and went, though one had caught your eye who you had not recognised as either friend or kin.
He almost blended himself at the back of people when the coffin was being lowered, and you had overserved him silently, thankful the dark veil that covered your face didn't show you were watching him.
His garbs were black as the rest of those around you, though some of the trim on his jacket had a crimson embellish, a pair of black glasses perched so you could not tell who he was looking at.
With long sandy blond locks tied back, pale skin and a lean tall build, he seemed ethereal, an angel who was there to take your brother's hand up to Heaven.
By the end, it had been him who came over to you, telling you how deeply sorry he was for the death of your brother, and how he was a good friend. He gave you his name, Sir Claude Spencer, a mentor and teacher to your brother during his studies.
It came to you as a surprise, seeing how young the man looked in front of you, and you could not guess him to be someone with years or even decades of academic knowledge stored in his mind.
Nothing otherwise told you this man was odd for being there, for if he was your brother's friend, he could be trusted. You felt rather sorry for how you poured your emotions and sorrows onto him, a man you had just met that otherwise consoled you for the rest of the day.
Claude was everything a gentleman should've been: thoughtful with his words, calm and collected. His voice was a soft timbre as he spoke to you as if treating a dying or sick animal. He was there for you when no one else was, and you could not believe how easy it was that you could put your trust in him so quickly.
Maybe it was the grief, and it had pushed you over the edge, but Claude had promised that if you needed refuge or a place to stay to clear your mind, his was always open. He lived in the Spencer estate, given to him after the death of his late father – he told you – so he did not have any next of kin he could pass it down to.
Though you were grateful for the offer, you could not imagine living with a confirmed bachelor, yourself young and ready to be wedded yet no man had thought you the one to catch their eye.
It didn't come as a surprise when you took him on his offer, writing to him a week later that you would come, and he was even more excited to have you there.
"I shall await day and night for when you come. Yours faithfully, Claude."
The Spencer manor was a drab sight, however, with few staff who worked only during the days and none staying at night. You greeted them all warmly when you climbed out of the stagecoach, with none but Spencer's butler, Arthur there to greet you coolly.
"The Master is resting at the moment, but he shall see you at dinner tonight."
It was odd, but he seemed to be a busy man, so you didn't think much of it. Instead, you were treated like glass, given a tour around the entirety of the manor, before being shown where you were staying.
It was shocking when you came to be told that the Master bedroom was only down the hall from you... Claude's room.
When dinner came, you dressed as best as you could despite still wearing black. When greeted with the sight of Claude, it seemed as if all your troubles and worries had melted away. He too, looked relieved and delighted to have you here.
Dinner came and went and your exhaustion had come with a heavy toll, but Claude was not disappointed that you needed to go to bed. For a man as young as he looked, he did not seem to tire as easily as you did, but it did concern you that he rested during the day.
Claude kissed your hand gently with a goodnight, leaving you giddy and looking forward to getting to know him more throughout your stay.
It didn't take long before you started seeing the signs that something was off not just about the manor, but of the staff and Claude. Arthur said that he was sensitive to the light, that he had sleep terrors and was always tired during the day, or that he was reading all night and could never get any sleep. His changed between staff that you did get a chance to ask, some with worrying, wary looks as they rushed off before you could ask anything else.
You also realised, Claude rarely ate. When you too did eat, his plate was always untouched, and it made you cautious that had he poisoned you? No, he wouldn't do such a thing. The only thing that he had was a cup that you assumed was wine, constantly refilled as if he needed it like a lifeline.
You heard the noises at night, some down the hallway just outside your room, lurking in the darkness like a beast that prowled, other times, you heard scratching at your window, keeping you up nearly all night. When you told him or Arthur, they told you it was the old pipes or a dog was loose in the yard, or the wind was bad that night, but... why was it the case for every night?
When your worries began to build, and you debated whether you should stay any longer, it was Claude who dispelled them quickly, giving reminders that you were still in mourning, that you were in no right state to travel or go back to your family. He told you to take each day slowly, and that he appreciated it if you took the chance to get used to the estate.
But something told you he was right, that you needed a break from the world and he would be there to help you through it.
You complied nonetheless, though, you believed you were doing it more for himself than you. Claude displayed affection that you thought only a husband would show to his wife: longing stares and touches that lingered for longer than expected.
He had any reason to touch you, brush something out your face that wasn't there, hold your hand, and guide you through the gardens once the sun had set.
His touches soon grew bolder, experimenting with your reactions, especially when one night, instead of kissing your knuckles, he kissed your cheek instead.
It left you in a daze, confused about your relationship: was he a friend or did you see him more than that? It couldn't have been like that, he was being kind, wasn't he?
It came to one night when the howling, the screaming, and the scratching haunted your waking dreams that you had to step out, regretting it immediately.
The sight of Claude seemed normal at first, apart from the gurgled noises that came from him and the figure he was clutching. At first, it seemed he was in the tight embrace of a lover, your heart tightening almost jealously before you noticed that his mouth was attached to the woman's neck, ravaging at her flesh like a starved beast.
You didn't know if you dared make a noise at the scene in front of you, watching in horror and dread at the way Claude did not resemble the man you called dearest friend. He resembled a creature of the night, a living nightmare in front of you.
You slammed the door shut to your bedroom before you could watch any further or be caught, and you knew the noise echoed down the hallway to alert Claude he had been caught, yet, there was no movement outside your door to tell you he was standing there.
You didn't open the door until morning, having stayed up all night, packing your bags and telling yourself you would leave the moment the first sign of sunlight peeked through your curtains.
It surprised you awfully when you opened the door, being greeted by the sight of Claude at your door.
It seemed that everything seemed normal, apart from his dishevelled hair, his eyes tired and his skin pallid. He didn't seem like the calm man he was when you first met him, instead, his mask had lifted, and he seemed almost fearful, frantic, desperate.
He asked if he could come in, spotting your bags beside you, blocking your path to leave past him. Your heart was racing, terrified of what he could do if you went against him, fought your way through him. Would he do what he did to that woman?
That was when he denied it all: that you were hallucinating, that you were still grieving and you needed—no, he needed you to stay with him. It was for your safety, that you had to stay with him or else he would truly lose it all.
You were convinced you saw him bleeding a woman dry from her neck, but Claude was adamant you were wrong, saying it was lack of sleep. That the noises had made you paranoid.
Had you truly imagined it all?
Claude smoothed your worries, whispering sweet nothings that he couldn't live without you, that he promised you the world, his love, your hand in marriage, anything to keep you with him.
It was so much, and his sweet words calmed your worries enough that when he pressed his lips to you, your mind was clouded with the love he showed you.
Maybe he was right, maybe he did need you: you both were grieving for your brother and friend. It only made sense that two souls were bound to be together, to help one another with their torment.
Perhaps, staying for a little longer to cradle his love didn't seem so bad after all.
#exophilia#monster exophilia#monster writing#monster lover#my writing#vampire boyfriend#vampire imagine#dark! vampire#yandere vampire#yandere monster#vampire x reader
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okay WAIT one of my favourite things about arthur is how stinkin soft and divine his hair looks— could you write some headcanons that have to do with Arthur + his hair? 👀
do you think he would notice if he had a partner who is fascinated with his hair? like constantly playing with it and running your fingers thru it,, does he like when you do that? would he find ways to try to get you to play with his hair more often?
Headcanons: Arthur Morgan x reader (playing with his hair)
a/n: omg this is perfect because I'm obsessed with his hair. (I'm a long hair arthur girl and I will die on that hill)
image cred is mine <3
Arthur notices that you look at his hair a lot, and usually he thinks it's because it looks funny. He'll blush and put his hat on, wondering if his hair is greasy or is sticking up funny.
"There somethin' wrong with my hair?" He'll eventually ask, and you only chuckle, "No, Arthur."
It clicks in his head one night when he's laying his head on your stomach. You run your hands through his soft, fluffy hair, smiling.
You run your hands through his hair a lot then, and he grows used to it, even liking the way it feels.
Sometimes you scratch his scalp while you're cuddling in bed, and he'll hum, soaking up the attention.
After more time, he really likes when you play with his hair. It makes him feel good, wanted.
One night you're in bed, hand curled into his soft hair, but you pull away. With an adorably frustrated wrinkle in between his brows, he'll take your hand and put it back on his head, "no, don't stop, I like when ya do that." He'll chuckle.
It becomes one of his favorite things, the way you love his hair. And he'll make sure to keep it clean for you, and try to keep it neat and looking nice.
"Can you... do that thing ya do? With my hair?" Arthur mumbles one night, late. You smile and oblige, running your fingers through his sandy blonde locks. He falls asleep almost immediately, and you try to stay awake, whispering how much you love him.
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan headcanons#rdr2#rdr2 arthur#red dead redemption two#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan x you
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Daddy
Arthur Morgan x F!reader
Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit smut
Not overly proof read because I cba x
——
Sitting in your chair by the fire you concentrated on your needle work. Your father was away for the night on business, he reared and sold thoroughbred horses. In turn you looked after the house, helped to clean the stables and helped to break in the horses when they were old enough.
While you loved the horses you hated your father. He was mean, abusive and cruel. Your mother died when you were young and you were an only child, it felt like a punishment for something you’d done in your past life.
As you focused on a particular stitch there was a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone you pulled out the shotgun from a chest, it felt heavy, the cold trigger kissed the warm skin of your fingers.
Opening the door you kept it hidden at your side, peeking through the crack you saw a tall broad man. A cigarette hung from his lips as he rested his hands on his belt. ‘Can I help you?’ You asked meekly, trying to portray the helpless damsel.
‘You got the money?’ He asked, inhaling the cigarette, the orange glow only slightly illuminating his face.
‘Money? You’ll have to speak to my daddy. Ain’t no money here sir.’ Flashing your doe like eyes up at the man praying he’d leave you alone. ‘Your daddy?’ He asked, a sinister smirk spreading across his lips. ‘Yeah. He don’t take too kindly to strangers knocking on the door this time of night.’ Your voice more stern and forceful than before. ‘So I suggest you leave.’
He moved closer to the door leaning on the frame as he rested his hand on him gun holster. ‘Your daddy ain’t here. Now. You got the money?’ He growled.
Shit.
The German man you’d borrowed money off in town, you thought you’d have more time. You only needed it to top up money you’d been saving to leave your fathers home. Chewing on your jaw you tried to push the door shut, but he was quicker than you.
Bursting through the door his body slammed into yours causing you to drop the gun. It fell to the floor with an almighty clatter, noticing the gun he stifled a chuckle. He pushed you up against the wall, boxing you in between his huge arms. ‘What’s a pretty lil thing like you doing with a gun like that?’
‘Protection.’ You snapped, he was stood so close to you, he smelt of sage and gunpowder. ‘Protection from what?’ He asked as he took a step closer to your body, so close you were almost touching. The breath in your chest seized, your thighs clenched as you got lost in his musk.
‘From people like you’ you sneered, desperately trying to prove you weren’t intimidated by him. Smirking from under the brim of his hat he grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your gaze to his. ‘Now that ain’t very nice sweetheart’ he drawled ‘I’m thinkin’ you don’t have the money do you?’
You squirmed under his grip, he was beautiful and you berated yourself for thinking so. Eyes as blue as the ocean with flecks of green, sandy blonde hair with stubble to match. A sharp jaw line, broad stature with a small waist and he was tall. So tall.
With his grasp still firm on your chin you finally managed to find an answer, ‘no.’
‘I didn’t think so. Mr Strauss wants his money.’ He lowered his head to your neck, his breath fanning ever to gently over it ‘how do you propose we fix this hm?’ You practically felt your pupils blow wide, your cunt clenched in your bloomers as you swallowed hard. Fucking an outlaw would certainly be payback for how your father treated you. Even more so if you fucked him in his bed.
Resting your hand on his wrist you whispered ‘follow me.’
Leading the outlaw up the creaky wooden stairs he held your hand, it was gentle. You entered your fathers room and instantly he clocked it, ‘this ain’t your room is it?’ Throwing him a devilish grin you shook your head as you pulled him into you by his belt buckle. His body collided with yours, you bit your lip as you looked up at him. Placing your arms around his neck you pulled him into a kiss. His lips were so soft, he snaked his hand to the back of your head, twisting his hand in your hair.
Moaning into his mouth you swiped your tongue along his lip, begging for entry. Allowing you this he deepened the kiss as he walked you backwards towards the bed. Once the backs of your knees hit the bed he guided you to sit down, as you did he helped you onto your back, never once breaking the kiss. Slowly he crawled on top of you as he slid his knee between your thighs, pulling a moan from the back of your throat.
His knee grazed your clit as he settled between them, sighing into you. As you pulled back you nipped his lip smiling as you did so. ‘Well darlin, I wasn’t expecting this when I knocked on your door this evenin’ he said with a crooked smirk. ‘Mmm, I’m full of surprises’ you purred while kissing his neck.
Pulling him back in, your lips met, the kiss was deeper and sloppier this time. Wet. Tongues tangled around each other, lips moved in tandem, breath intertwined as you swallowed each others moans. Slowly he trailed his hand down your torso, grabbing your breast he massaged it gently. You sighed softly into him causing him to break the kiss. ‘You want this?’ He asked, concern suddenly evident in his eyes.
Eyebrows raised you smiled ‘oh so now you’re a gentleman. Didn’t ask permission to burst into my house did you?’ Dropping his head he let out a hearty laugh before moving a stray piece of hair from your face. ‘Oh darlin. I always ask permission before makin a lady scream my name.’ Your jaw dropped as a delighted giggle burst from you.
Pushing your hip up you forced him onto his back so you were straddling his hips. Tilting your chin you looked down at him whilst drumming your fingers on his broad chest. ‘Oh you’re gonna make me scream your name huh?’ He nodded. ‘Well Mr outlaw, you’re gonna have to tell me it first.’ Gripping your hips he began to move you, forcing you to grind your hips on his hard cock. ‘Arthur.’
‘You best take these close off then Arthur’ you grinned. He sat up and slowly removed each layer of your clothing delicately, his hands were soft despite the calluses which littered them. His fingertips kissed each part of your skin as he mapped it beneath him. His arms were defined, strong and muscular.
You made fast work of his buttons, peeling his shirt off him as you made your way down to his trousers. Soon enough you were both naked, led next to one another, gazing into each others eyes. ‘Beautiful’ he sighed. Feeling a sudden heat in your cheeks you buried your head into his neck, but he pushed you back ‘naw, I wanna see that smile.’
‘Mmm Arthur, you gonna keep kissin my ass or you gonna fuck me?’ Your confidence caught him off guard, trailing his fingers down your back he pulled your leg over his hip. He then trailed it along your slit ‘oh darlin, you’re so wet. That all for me?’ You hummed at his touch, it had been so long since a man had touched you. ‘Don’t tease me Arthur … please.’
With that he plunged a finger into you, stretching your pussy open with a smooth motion. Biting your lip you nodded as you gripped into his shoulder, digging your nails in. As he moved and worked you open he slid in another, coughing you to his between clenched teeth. ‘You ok sweetheart?’
You nodded furiously ‘yes … yes … shhh don’t stop.’
He moved his fingers inside you, rubbing your spot exactly the way you needed. Your face contorted with each movement, with each thrust of his fingers. You whined and moaned into him, your chest heaved with each breath. Then suddenly he removed them, causing you to groan in anger. ‘Fuck!’ You yelled, not knowing whether to cry or laugh.
Instead he started kissing your neck, nipping your collarbone, before moving down to your abdomen. He spread your thighs and kissed the nest of hair that decorated your pussy. His breath tickled. His tongue however felt heavenly, with small languid licks he worked his way over your clit. His blue eyes peeked up at you as he worked his jaw, you felt him smile against you. No one had ever done this to you before.
You rolled your hips, gripping the bed sheets with one hand, the other buried in his sandy blonde hair. He held you down with one arm, inhaling your scent, devouring your moans as you writhed beneath him. You were getting close. So very close.
And he knew it.
‘That’s it pretty girl, lemme hear you. Sound so good’ he drawled, his voice thick and husky. ‘Feels so good’ you whined. With one final lick he moved himself back on top of you, lowering his lips to yours. You could taste yourself as he kissed you. Just as he slipped his tongue into your mouth he pushed his cock into you. Both gasping as he did. You felt so full. So so full.
The stretch was agonisingly beautiful, he slowly worked his cock into you. Grazing that sweet spot. He started slow at first, allowing you to get used to him. When you relaxed into him he upped his pace, whispering sweet praises in your ear. His pubic bone hit your clit with every thrust, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
Lifting your legs he placed them on his shoulders, kissing and caressing your calf muscles, your ankles. This new position allowed him to go deeper, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, a dull but not painful feeling. Sweat began to gather on your bodies, gasps and moans mingling in the dull light of the fire. ‘Play with it darlin’ he gasped at he looked towards your glistening pussy.
Dropping a hand you rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves. Arthur’s eyes widened, he chewed his jaw as he watched. You felt yourself begin to tighten. So did he. ‘That’s it, just like that sweetheart, lemme feel yah.’ Screwing your eyes shut, back arched, toes pointed you came, pleasure rushed through your soul as you rode your high. ‘Oh fuck Arthur!’
‘Where you want it?’ He asked breathlessly, strands of sweat soaked hair framing his face. ‘Fuck, anywhere, I don’t care’ you panted. With that he pulled out, letting his cum decorate your soft skin, it felt warm as it hit your breasts, abdomen, chest. Using a finger you gathered some before licking it off, a wicked grin on your lips.
‘Oh darlin.’ He smirked ‘I ain’t ever lettin you go.’
#rdr2 arthur#rdr arthur#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan rdr2#red dead redemption arthur#arthur morgan x reader#arthurmorgan#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x you#rdr 2#red dead smut#red dead redemption x reader#red dead redemption smut
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Best Character Named X Poll
FOLLOW @best-character-named-x-poll
I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day. New polls scheduled for 1:30PM GMT everyday.
ask box closed for now
WILL BE POSTING POLLS ON @best-character-named-x-poll FROM FEB 1ST
If your favourite character is not included in the poll very sorry i have either never heard of them or actively chose not to include them as theres only 6 characters per poll. Characters will only count of that is their first name, surnames do not count.
Round 85: David
Round 86: Tiffany
Round 87: Charlie
Round 88: Sandy
Round 89: Cody
Round 90: Amanda
Round 91: Jeremy
Past Polls and Poll Ideas under the cut
Names that I have a complete list for*
Caroline, Tyler, Louis, Leonard, Rebecca, Steve, Nicole, Isabelle, Victoria, Katherine, Jade, Alex, Sophie, Greg, Jake, Ellie, Isaac, Robin, Tony, Annie, Lisa, Margaret, Oliver, Clark, Kara, Phoebe, Emma, Ruby, Bart, Alfie, Beth, Julian, Nancy, Penny, Margaret, Tessa, Erica, Theresa, George, Kevin, Sebastian, Felix, Martin, Michael, Erin, Caleb, Helen, Charlotte, Kyle, Martha, Diana, Elsa, Gary, Zoe, Connor, Colin, Daisy, Eric, Maya, Adam, Andy, Magnus, Alma, Nora, Alice, Spike, Leon, Marcel, Kim, Juno, Sue, Chris, Otto, Donald, Daphne, Kate, Todd, Ned, Ken, Angel, Judy, Jo, Hazel, Naomi, Diego, Miranda, Joel, Lila, Duncan, Dexter, Meredith, Pearl, Lily, Malcolm, Napolean, Joan, Nico, Jamie, Nadia, Velma, Jill, Kiera, Rory, Evan, Tam, Klaus, Neil, Derek, Michelle, Luna, Laila, Cordelia, Zack, Imogen, Felicity, Cindy, Alicia, Kelly, Alan, April, Astrid, Delilah, Jodie, Claudia, Juliet, Karen, Jonas, Milo, Celia, Hannah, Joy, Ethan, Katya, Aria, Atticus, Ian, Cynthia, Faye, Frank, Boo, River, Corey, Gabrielle, Minerva, Ebony, Zia, Beverly, Rudy, Georgina
Names I have an incomplete list for (welcome to send character suggestions)
Richter, Sean, Troy, Cain, Agatha, Warren, Percy, Reggie, Mina, Ryan, Felicia, Dylan, Josh, Shirley, Debbie, Jared, June, Mabel, Ray, Chad, Moe, Hugh, Fearne, Christine, Joe, August, May, Scarlet, Alana, Leela, Manny, Dean, Francis, Mason, Oscar, Quinn, Guy, Ulrich, Wally, Yasmin, Tobias, Woody, Sabrina, Quentin, Margot, Alina, Matilda, Freya, Kendra, Angus, Ophelia, Leisel, Zelda, Adora, Piper, Scarlet, Sheila, Valentine, Laurie, Laurel, Fitz, Violet, Gabriel, Ford, Artemis, Owen, Bianca, Newton, Summer, Darcy, Noah, Taylor, Miriam, Hugh, Aurora, Hank, Henry, Dawn, Delia, Cosmo, Wanda, Zeke, Cecil, Aiden, Calvin, Ayesha, Beatrice, Parker, Chase, Hunter, Tina, Misty, Amaya, Amara, Harvey, Talia, Tatiana, Tanya, Orion, Eugene, Kit, Bo, Duke, Blue, Cameron, Rudolf, Mara, Marianne, Carl
Feel free to send more suggestions
*subject to change, you can still submit a character if there is no strikethrough if you think theres a character that its an absolute crime i dont add. Please don't suggest anything for the names with a strikethrough as they are polls that are already in my queue waiting to be published.
Past Polls
Round 1: Peter : WINNER: Peter Parker (Spider-Man)
Round 2: Elizabeth : WINNER: Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean)
Round 3: Jason : WINNER: Jason Mendoza (The Good Place)
Round 4: Eve : WINNER: EVE (WALL-E)
Round 5: Fred : WINNER: Fred Jones (Scooby-Doo)
Round 6: Rachel : WINNER: Rachel (Animorphs)
Round 7: Arthur : WINNER: Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Round 8: Amy : WINNER: Amy Pond (Doctor Who)
Round 9: Tom : WINNER: Tom (Tom and Jerry)
Round 10: Claire : WINNER: Clare Devlin (Derry Girls)
Round 11: James : WINNER: James (Pokemon)
Round 12: Max : WINNER: Max (Black Sails)
Round 13: Simon : WINNER: Simon Belmont (Castlevania)
Round 14: Jane : WINNER: Jane Crocker (Homestuck)
Round 15: Victor : WINNER: Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)
Round 16: Mary : WINNER: Mary Poppins (Mary Poppins)
Round 17: Will : WINNER: Will Graham (Hannibal)
Round 18: Laura : WINNER: Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)
Round 19: Ben : WINNER: Ben "Obi-Wan" Kenobi (Star Wars)
Round 20: Chloe : WINNER: Chloe Price (Life Is Strange)
Round 21: John : WINNER: Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives)
Round 22: Lydia : WINNER: Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice)
Round 23: Mark : WINNER: Marc Spector (Moon Knight)
Round 24: Jess : WINNER: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)
Round 25: Theo : WINNER: Theobald Gumbar (Dimension 20: A Crown Of Candy)
Round 26: Sarah: WINNER: Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who)
Round 27: Richard : WINNER: Richard Gansey III (The Raven Cycle)
Round 28: Cass : WINNER: Cassandra Cain (Batman)
Round 29: Edward : WINNER: Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Round 30: Carm : WINNER: Carmen Sandiego (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?)
Round 31: Hal : WINNER: HAL9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey)
Round 32: Sid : WINNER: Sydney Adamu (The Bear)
Round 33: Jack : WINNER: Captain Jack Harkness (Doctor Who)
Round 34: Stephanie : WINNER: Stephanie Brown (Batman)
Round 35: Ash : WINNER: Ash Ketchum (Pokemon)
Round 36: Veronica : WINNER: Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)
Round 37: Kurt : WINNER: Kurt Wagner aka Nightcrawler (X-Men)
Round 38: Eleanor : WINNER: Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place)
Round 39: Nathan : WINNER: Nathan Young (Misfits)
Round 40: Fiona : WINNER: Princess Fiona (Shrek)
Round 41: Gale : WINNER: Gayle Waters-Waters (Chris Fleming)
Round 42: Barbara : WINNER: Barbara Millicent Roberts aka Barbie (Barbie)
Round 43: Sam : WINNER: Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)
Round 44: Grace : WINNER: Grace Chastity (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)
Round 45: Barry : WINNER: Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone)
Round 46: Raven : WINNER: Raven (Teen Titans)
Round 47: Dan : WINNER: Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom)
Round 48: Mia : WINNER: Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)
Round 49: Matt : WINNER: Matt Murdock (Daredevil)
Round 50: Rose : WINNER: Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)
Round 51: Robert : WINNER: Robbie Rotten (LazyTown)
Round 52: Lola : WINNER: Lola Bunny (Space Jam)
Round 53: Scott : WINNER: Scott Summers aka Cyclops (X-Men)
Round 54: Olivia : WINNER: Olivia Octavious (Spiderverse)
Round 55: Finn : WINNER: Finn the Human (Adventure Time)
Round 56: Emily : WINNER: Emily Charlton (The Devil Wears Prada)
Round 57: Elliot : WINNER: Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Round 58: Sonia : WINNER: Sonia (Pokemon)
Round 59: Gideon : WINNER: Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)
Round 60: Jen : WINNER: Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)
Round 61: Miles : WINNER: Miles Morales (Spider-Man)
Round 62: Lana : WINNER: Lana Skye (Ace Attorney)
Round 63: Spencer : WINNER: Spencer Shay (iCarly)
Round 64: Tracy : WINNER: Tracy Turnbald (Hairspray!)
Round 65: Luke : WINNER: Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)
Round 66: Natalie : WINNER: Natalie Scatorccio (Yellowjackets)
Round 67: Harry : WINNER: Harry Du Bois (Disco Elysium)
Round 68: Lucy : WINNER: Lucy van Pelt (Peanuts)
Round 69: Damian : WINNER: Damian Wayne (Batman)
Round 70: Tabitha : WINNER: Tabitha Casper (Dan and Phil Games: Sims 4)
Round 71: Nick : WINNER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)
Round 72: Gwen : WINNER: Guinevere (Merlin)
Round 73: Paul : WINNER: Paulette Bonafonte (Legally Blonde)
Round 74: Abigail : WINNER: Abigail Hobbs (Hannibal)
Round 75: Jordan : WINNER: Jordan Baker (The Great Gatsby)
Round 76: Donna : WINNER: Donna Noble (Doctor Who)
Round 77: Morgan : WINNER: Morgana (Merlin)
Round 78: Allison : WINNER: Alison Cooper (BBC Ghosts)
Round 79: Patrick : WINNER: Patrick Star (Spongebob Squarepants)
Round 80: Linda : WINNER: Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)
Round 81: Philip : WINNER: Philip J. Fry (Futurama)
Round 82: Clarisse : WINNER: Clarisse La Rue (Percy Jackson)
Round 83: Jeff
Round 84: Maria
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♡ | proposing
[arthur morgan x gender neutral reader ]
[ no y/n or dialogue(for reader) ]
Arthur and his partner had been dating a while—a long while, actually so it wasn't a surprise when out of the blue he came up behind them and asked if they wanted to go on a walk and find a pretty spot to talk (as they both seemed to share an enjoyment of quality time).
Once they found a nice spot on the hill, overlooking a nice valley, they sat side by side just holding each other's hands and watching the sunset. Normally silence between them was comfortable but it was obvious that Arthur was overthinking something.
__
The wind gently gusts past Arthur's face, making his sandy hair fall in front of his eyes for a split second. It was as if it was trying to make him look at his partner. There was a lump in his throat the more he thought about it, his calloused hand tightening its grip on theirs.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
It wasn't like it was like they could ever get married; for one, they were outlaws, and for two..well, it was just complicated.
God, this was stupid. What was he thinking?--Well, he wasn't as soon as his partner called his name.
Tearing his eyes away from the horizon, he turned to look them in the eyes, watching the way the moon reflected in their eyes before studying their worried facial expression. When they questioned him on why he was being so quiet, get just shook his head and looked away, bowing his head to stare at his lap before lifting it again and letting out a nervous laugh.
"Well, I uh.. I suppose 'm just thinkin'." He forced a smile on his lips, looking up to the moon but stealing glances at his partner from the corners of his eyes.
His heart felt heavy and his palms were sweaty, god did it feel like this last time?
"About you, mostly..Nothing bad, I just," Arthur sucked in a breath and tore his hand away from their grasp so he could lean behind him and scramble for his satchel, sat beside them on the grass, and rummage through it.
Slowly he pulled out a rag and cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact as he collected himself and his breathing.
Slowly he turned to face them completely, still sitting on the ground, if he could of, he would have gotten on one knee, but they were both already sat down it was too late.
"Thinkin' about you marryin' me..Not officially or nothin', just us." He explained, his voice soft and gentle while he peeled back the rag to reveal the wedding band in the palm of his hand, the metal sparkling under the moonlight, showing the tiny carving on the inside, reading both their initials.
"You ain't gotta, answer now. But it's here, 'n so am I, whenever you wanna answer." He added, curling his hand around the ring and turning away a bit to stare at his lap..
|| wrote this for my friends to judge and they liked it so i decided to post it, might make it into a bot so i can tell him no and make some angst but yk :3 ALSO!! sorry for being gone so long, i get writers block so much its insane. ||
#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x gn reader#rdr x reader#god this is so short im sorry#getting back into writing mayhaps?idk
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Mea Culpa - Vincent x Jean - Ikemen Vampire
-> The entire mansion was invited to a summer gala! Jean and Vincent sneak off for some alone time… Except- Oh no! They didn’t hear the footsteps behind them!!
Tags/Warnings <--> Slight crack, Humorous, Slightly fluffy, Supportive Family, Being Outed, Slight spice (is making out considered spice?), More kissing than I originally planned, Theo loses his mind, "Comte loves all his sons equally" (the mansion knows Jean the favorite- Jean does not), Arthur bullies indiscriminately
Word Count: 3203 (about 6 pages)
A/N <--> I had too much fun writing this. I genuinely don't know how I wrote this so fast. Also I recommend reading https://www.tumblr.com/koco-coko/737240114777948160/when-the-world-exploded-vincent-x-jean?source=share this if you want more context if not that'a fine
i think they might like this: @azulashengrottospiano @natimiles @weirdwriter69 (if anyone wants to be removed or added lemme know)
A summer night’s gala… What a romantic scene. The heat and humidity of evening air, the faint glow of candlelight, the soft melodies of a piano and violin…
It was a beautiful event, really. A friend of Le Comte’s invited him and the residents of his mansion to celebrate the summer solstice. It was the first summer after Jean and Vincent started their relationship. It wasn’t public, considering the era, but nobody in the mansion knew either. Maybe one day, but Jean was not ready for the amount of teasing comments he’d receive after this. Besides, only Sebastian and Mitsuki came from an ‘accepting’ era… How would the rest feel about something like this?
So, for the gala, Vincent and Jean stayed trapped in their own bubbles. Vincent hung around the food with his brother while Jean was a wallflower by Mozart’s piano. Jean would’ve approached Vincent by now, but unfortunately, the light of an angel attracted many people. Mostly women. All in their nice summer dresses with their fans, all swooning over the innocence and purity of the man before them. Theo seemed to fight them off fairly well by just… being Theo… but Jean felt something rising in him as he watched the crowd, tipsy and carefree, flirting with Vincent so openly. A green-eyed monster in Jean’s heart made his jaw tighten, only made worse by Vincent’s cluelessness and occasional discomfort when a lady in red mentioned the idea of courting him.
Jean tried to stay next to Mozart as long as possible. Except… the people really did love Wolfram, flocking around his piano to listen to his songs more intently. Jean’s discomfort then brought him to linger around Napoleon, but then Napoleon chatted with Isaac, who was being stalked by Dazai, and no way was he going anywhere close to Comte and that bundle of nerve and nobility…
Jean found himself at a loss in the corner. Why did he even agree to come to this place? He really wasn’t the type for fancy events. Even his suit felt stifling, though maybe that was the humidity getting to him. Jean pulled at his collar and wiped his forehead with his arm, scanning the area for any type of escape. The balcony already had lovers on it, enjoying the idyllic starry night. A single glimpse to the upper levels gave him the sight of an older man and woman clinking their glasses together. A young pair behind them was making their way to the balcony, whispering and blushing as they did.
His eyes traveled to a sandy-blonde without any command. The thought of passionate and amorous nights made his thoughts turn to Vincent in mere seconds.
Vincent was rubbing Theo’s shoulder while Arthur laughed about something, when suddenly he caught a glimpse of Jean staring at him. He waved, but his grin faded as he saw the anxious look on his partner’s face. Theodorus was starting to chide Arthur for something, not even realizing his older brother’s hand had left him. Vincent pointed to the open door, the only thing that caught the venue from being too stuffy to handle.
When Jean nodded shyly, Vincent made a beeline outside. Of course, the garden was filled with groups of people as well. The fairy lights and lanterns were just too nice to miss. Wine and lovey-dovey nobles littered the area. When Jean joined his side, that’s when he caught sight of a small place beyond the bushes. None of the fine ladies in their bouncy dresses would want to go through thorny bushes to somewhere so dark and secluded to flirt with their lovers (Well, there were a few unseemly sounds coming from behind the banquet hall… B-But they weren’t going in that direction! Vincent was actively trying to avoid places with sound, anyways…).
There weren’t many lights in the clearing beyond trimmed bushes, leaving Jean and Vincent alone in the dark. Still, by how close they were put together, there was no need for it. Jean grabbed Vincent’s hands and held them to his face, peppering both of his knuckles in kisses before he could even get a word in..
Vincent hadn’t even gotten a word in! He chuckled lightly. “What spurred this on?” Vincent asked, naive to the expression on Jean’s face. He looked desperate and helpless, as if being away from Vincent that long was torture for him.
Jean glanced to the side. “I do not know… I believe envy has claimed me tonight.” How embarrassing it was to admit such a deadly sin to his lover… He’d likely never live it down. “Seeing you with those women, I believe it has stirred something in me. Forgive me, monsieur.” Jean hid his pink face behind Vincent’s hand. They vaguely smelled of oil and lead. From here, Jean could even observe the dried paint behind his lover’s fingernails. It was cute, sort of.
When Jean looked back at Vincent, he had the most romantic expression, his smile almost reaching his ears. “Aw, Jeanie…” Vincent whispered. His hands moved from Jean’s grasp and onto his cheeks, causing the soldier to straighten himself into the proper standing position. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize they were trying to court me,” he said. Unconsciously, his finger rubbed Jean’s eyepatch as he spoke. It had become so natural at this point. “I’m not the best when it comes to that kind of stuff. But next time–”
“I will be there next time. To protect you,” Jean cut him off, although unintentionally. Neither had great social cues, it seemed.
The possessive tone in Jean’s voice made Vincent’s heart flutter quite a bit. He couldn’t tell if he was heated from the summer’s humidity or something else anymore. In all truth, Vincent had a possessive streak in him as well, but he had always pushed his jealous thoughts to the back of his mind. Despite everything, his habit of trying not to feel still had quite the hold on him.
Jean cleared his throat once he realized how long he’d been staring at Vincen’t face. “Apologies,” he mumbled, “That is only if you wish.”
A moment of silence dragged on between them, but the painter’s palms on Jean’s cheeks made him all too aware of the time that elapsed. Seconds felt like hours when he couldn’t hear his lover's sweet and soothing voice.
“I don’t mind,” he started softly, his hands slowly lowering. A distant sadness was behind his sky blue eyes, one Jean had come to learn all too well. His arms wrapped around his lover’s waist on instinct. “It’s just…” Vincent sighed and grimaced as the words struggled to leave his lips. “It’s times like these I wish they’d see us as real lovers.”
Jean’s heart had struck a chord. Vincent could tell from the tightening of his grip.
“It’s not that we aren’t,” Vincent explained, laying his head on Jean’s shoulder comfortably. “I know this–” he placed his hand on Jean’s heart and almost laughed when he felt it suddenly speed up, “–is real. But others are going to say it’s not, and I think that hurts a bit.”
Jean, despite a bit of stiffness, began to rub Vincent’s back as best he could. It wasn’t very soothing, but the gesture was appreciated. “I didn’t believe it either, at first,” Jean responded slowly, picking his words with care and precision, “But I do now. Maybe others just need time like I did.”
“And a lot of persistence,” Vincent teased. He couldn’t help it– not when Jean’s flustered pout was so cute!
Jean and Vincent always had a struggle with words and pinning down their true emotions into tangible sentences. It’s why Vincent had his art to escape to. Jean’s coping mechanisms were a little (a lot) less healthy (fencing his feelings out until he forgot about them), but both were actively trying to get better at this whole thing. A relationship meant communication and communication meant a lot of scary things.
Communication didn’t have to be just words, though. Vincent’s paintings revealed much broader ideas than even he realized, and Jean’s actions were much better at showing his true intent as well. So, with a short smile and one last scan for safety, Jean tightened his grip on Vincent and pushed their lips together.
Vincent loved kissing Jean, and vice-versa. It was much more personal and loving than they could ever voice. Jean, in all his shyness, was surprisingly passionate with every kiss and put his entire heart and soul into every minute of it. It was only exaggerated by his jealousy tonight. He pulled Vincent closer and closer, until their bodies were up against each other completely. He was also a die-hard fan of French kisses (I wonder why). Almost every session like this devolved into those. Not that Vincent was complaining.
Vincent smiled when their lips touched, nothing but accepting the moment. There were so few times they could display their love, and they both barely had any idea how to do that either. But here? For just a minute or so, they could pretend that they were your average, head-over-heels couple, unable to keep down their passions any longer. They could pretend that they didn’t have to hide and completely soak into the other with no pesky inhibitions to get in the way. Vincent wrapped his arms around Jean’s shoulders just as their tongues started to meet, his hand running up his neck and into the lower strands of his slate blue hair.
Oh, it was utter bliss. They could stay like this forever, if time let them.
“I KNEW IT!” A voice yelled beyond the bushes. They ignored it at first. Then, the stomping got closer–
“I TOLD YOU, I KNEW IT!!” Wait, was that Theo’s–!?
The bushes parted with a big swoosh just before the lovers could retreat their faces from the other, revealing Theodorus’s red face and gritted teeth. “YOU ARE STEALING MY BROTHER FROM–”
His eyes opened wide when he saw the scene before him. It was as if his whole world shattered right then and there. “... me.” Theo’s angry stance fell to one of complete disbelief.
Jean and Vincent… like two peas in a pod… Jean’s arms around his waist…. Vincent’s on his shoulders… their faces, red and flushed… inches apart…
“Um… Hallo, Broer!” Vincent laughed awkwardly, trying his best to put on a welcoming smile. No point in trying to move away from each other now. It was bound to happen eventually, right? Oh, why’d it have to be Theo? Even Arthur would’ve been better…
Jean, unlike his partner, was as still as stone, staring dumbstruck at Theo with wide eyes rivaling the little brother’s look of shock. He couldn’t even move. It was as if Jean had been completely frozen in time.
“Pal, what in the brother complex are you going on about?” Arthur was quick to join the scene. The partners in crime never seemed far apart, so it was only a natural development. He just had to glimpse at Jean’s tomato-red face once to burst out into laughter, holding onto Theodorus’s shoulder for support. Thankfully, Arthur was pointing at Theo and not the two currently in a tense embrace.
Suddenly, Jean shoved Vincent off of him. Vincent didn’t seem all too upset at that, quickly patting down his suit. Actually, he was thankful he did. With Arthur’s bellowing laughter, the real chaos soon began.
Mozart, then Sebastian, then Comte, then William, then Leonardo, then Napoleon– in that order. There were more, but the bushes were too dense for Vincent to see the others through.
“Is there something I should worry about happening here?” Comte asked gently, clearly confused by the combination of residents.
The playboy was doubled-over, clutching his stomach and wiping his face of tears. He could barely look at Theo’s traumatized face without wheezing. “Oh, nothing wrong, dear old dad! Just Theo walking in on his older brother’s love session!” Arthur barely had the breath to force those words out as he fell onto the grass. “Dear Gods, I’m about to piss myself!!” he snorted.
Mozart’s face was utterly disgusted as he tried to avoid the foliage, only to gaze at Jean and Vincent with mild disinterest. “That’s it? Here you had me thinking it was somewhat important. But…” Mozart’s expression softened when he saw Jean’s red face. The soldier still wasn’t completely in reality. Mozart snapped his fingers in front of his face, but it did nothing. “Vincent, huh?” he leaned over to observe the painter currently biting his lip and rubbing the back of his neck. “I did not expect blondes to be your type.”
“He’s not the worst choice in the mansion,” Napoleon added on, smirking broadly. This was currently… amusing. “Though, I thought Jean would be more into you, if anything.”
“I was going to tell you Theo– we were going to tell you all, really!” Vincent desperately tried to control the situation, stepping in front of the flustered Jean. “Just… Not now. But eventually! We didn’t know how everyone would react, and we’re just trying to take it slow and–”
William laughed heartily, approaching his friend with glee written all over him. “Th're is nothing to beest dainty about! i has't did kiss many a sir in mine own lifetimes!”
Vincent blinked and his expression dropped. “What?”
Shakespeare smiled lightly. “Actresses didst not exist in mine time. Juliet wast just a knave in a dress. Or I, if 't be true nobody else could fill in at rehearsals that day.”
“Oh… I see,” Vincent replied. Will pat his shoulder reassuringly, joined by a slap on the back from Leonardo. Jean and Vincent both recieved one as Leonardo came from behind them. Jean let out a soft ‘oof’ as he caught himself, finally waking from his humiliated trance.
“Welcome to the club, you two,” he said, grinning. “Man, I remember the day… I was almost arrested for something just like this when I was younger!” Leonardo gripped Jean’s shoulder and shook it. “Ah, memories.”
Jean glanced at Vincent, then at Will and Leonardo. “How many residents of the mansion are… like us?”
“More than you think!” Sebastian chimed in, grinning madly as his pen went all over the pages of his notebook. He slammed it closed quickly and hid it behind his back. “But that’s just a hunch. Take Napoleon, for example! He’s likely kissed almost every resident here!”
To that, Napoleon smirked and shrugged. He couldn’t really deny it…
“I can’t believe it,” Comte sighed, a hand over his chest as he gazed fondly at Jean. Jean’s face instantly scrunched up and he turned out. “I never thought I’d see the day Jean found happiness in another!” Comte’s face lit up as he made his way to Jean’s side and wrapped his arms around him for a quick, tight squeeze. “I’m incredibly proud. Maybe one day you’ll even open up to the rest of us.”
Jean looked as if he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Mozart, Leonardo, and Napoleon all gave each other an exasperated, knowing glance. Comte wasn’t even trying to hide his favoritism anymore.
Vincent sighed, half-relieved and half-worried for the future ahead of them. He caught sight of Theo, still standing there with complete shock. At least, unlike Jean, he was blinking and looking around.
The brothers stared at each other for a bit. It was tense, at least on Vincent’s end. “Broer, I’m sorry–” Before Vincent could finish, Theo had closed the gap between them and embraced his older brother tightly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered shyly, just as Vincent’s arms made their way around his younger brother. “I wouldn’t judge you for something as simple as this! I could’ve helped you! You didn’t have to hide all by yourself. How long have you had to bear this alone!? A month? A year??”
“Oh, Broer…” Vincent held his brother just as tightly, only moving back so he could pinch his cheek. Theo, although embarrassed, let it happen. “You really are a sweetheart sometimes. And I wasn’t alone, Theo. Jean was there with me!” Vincent looked over at Jean, only recently free from Comte’s smothering. By the look on his face, he was going to wash himself the moment they got home. Theo squinted at Jean. “He’s good to me, Broer. With Jean… I’m really happy with him. I promise.”
Theo’s glare didn’t stop just because of that. Jean met eyes with the little brother. It only added to the soldier’s nerves about such a sudden outing. If looks could kill, Jean was already a goner. Stabbed 29 times, shot 46, and probably a few broken bones.
Theo left Vincent’s arms and examined Jean in excruciating detail, head-to-toe. Once he had been thoroughly checked at all angles, despite Jean’s squirming, Theo leaned in close. Too close for comfort. Jean tried to lean back, only for Theo’s deadly glare and infuriated expression to come closer.
Theo pointed at Vincent. “You even think about breaking his heart, and I will hunt you down until the end of time and cut your dick off. You got that?”
“Broer!” Vincent exclaimed, “Language!”
Jean heeded Theo's warning, nodding his head quickly.
“Oh, old pal,” Arthur said, finally able to stand and dust himself off. He quickly went to his long-time friend and leaned on him. “That look on your face… Whoo, I’m never letting you live that down!”
The night continued on fairly normally, with only a few residents who weren’t present at the scene asking for clarification (Mostly Isaac, considering his era). The residents were surprisingly welcome to the idea, though maybe the whole vampire thing put the small stuff like this into perspective.
Things were a lot different back home, though.
For one, Theo was always giving the death-glare to Jean when he was around. He was checking in on Vincent a lot more often, always making sure his Broer was always happy and satisfied. It was only after a few talks with Arthur and Comte that he started to lay off (Comte and Arthur? Teamed up? It had to be serious).
Arthur and Dazai would often have teasing remarks, to Jean’s displeasure, but it was really only in the first few weeks that they were bad. Isaac nodded to them anytime they said a word, considering they were now fodder for jokes.
Comte was… more than proud, to say the least. If Jean ever mentioned that he wanted to take Vincent to a show, tickets would magically appear on his bedside the next day. Sebastian joined Comte, hiding around the corners near them a lot more often to take notes. This need for information (Comte was more on the: making sure his sons’ were always content side of things) led to a truce about the notebooks between the master and butler.
Despite all the changes, or lack thereof, there was one change that the lovers were the most fond of.
Finally, finally… Vincent could leave a peck on Jean’s cheek anywhere he’d like. Right in front of the dining table, after a sparring match with Napoleon… and nobody would bat an eye.
It was the simple things that meant the world to those two.
#ikevamp#ikemen vampire#ikevamp jean#ikevamp jeanne#ikevamp vincent#koco talks ikevamp#ikevamp fanfic#I wrote this in the span of 5 hours#6 pages....#vincent x jean#vincent x jean ikevamp#jean x vincent ikevamp#jean x vincent
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{Forbidden love} Napoleon Bonepart x fem!King charles the third
Napoleon had been out for months, leading armies into battle and claiming territory for england. Some think that it was strange for him to provide a country with land that wasnt his own, and that he must have been paid very well to give up his hard earned territories to another country rather than claiming it for himself.
The truth wasnt that he was being paid or that he had gone mad, it was something much simpler than that. Love.
He had never imagined himself falling in love with someone who he had despised since hearing of her existence. But here he was, deeper in the confines of love than he ever had been in the apocalyptic trenches of war.
Napoleon was to arrive at shore when the sun met the waves, finally to be reunited with his lover once more.
Time creeped by slowly, as if taunting him with the idea that he’d never reach the sandy shores, never see his beloved again. This thought was irrational of course, and he had never let himself think any way but logically.
His arrival was quiet, discreet–a simple carriage ride through the village to the palace where he and his queen would be united at last.
The anticipation had built in his chest until he felt as if he might just explode; still he remained patient, allowed himself time to admire the beauty of her gardens where he so often found her.
And find her he did, sitting at the fountain like it was an alter of a god only she knew of.
Napoleon was hesitant to break her meditative state, but he just couldnt help himself.
He cleared his throat, watching as she snapped her head in his direction. She stood, her incredibly thin and sickly looking figure towering over his short frame, stubby and pudgy in comparison. Her nose took up fifty percent of the space on her face, her eyes small and beady and lips thin enough to give someone a paper cut. Napoleon smiled in the presence of his beautiful goddess of a lover, bowing down to her despite the fact that it left him at her knees with their height difference.
Once he stood he allowed himself to speak, “Darling!!!! Im home from war!!!” he grinned, “Did my kitten whiskers miss me?” he smirked, babbling to her as if she was a baby.
“Oh yes my alpha!” her voice was high pitched and scratchy, shrill enough to shatter a wine glass if she were to scream.
Napoleon was nervous but he got on one knee in front of her, “Queen charlotte philipa arthur george, will you be my omega forever?” he stuttered, blushing red.
She bent all the way down as if she was going to pick a flower so she could reach him, picking up like a toddler in her arms and squeezing him tight. He felt her boney joints digging into his skin, roughly enough to bruise. He liked it though.
“Oh yes My alpha daddy napoleon!” She screamed, busting his eardrums and causing him to bleed.
He just smiled and kissed her, smashing their lips together like a toddler clapping their sticky, slimy hands.
The next day Charlotte gave birth to thirty baby napoleons, fresh out of the womb looking just like their father. She was sure they were healthy, even though their newborn bodies were the size of baby mice. She was able to hold all thirteen of them in both hands.
The day after that she gave birth to twenty five baby versions of herself, only this time they were three times the size of a normal newborn baby–just extremely skinny and boney like her adult frame.
She knew they’d grow up to be just like her and her beloved daddy alpha.
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You have Admired, Every Man Desires
Arthur Morgan x gen neutral reader (one mention of reader being dainty/delicate “easy to confuse for a woman”)
SFW, drinking, gambling, period typical danger, cursing, kissing. Liquid Courage Arthur makes a move on reader.
title from song Devil's Tattoo
Chisholm was a cattle depot nestled against the rocky scree of a plateau, the only landmark of significance as far as the eye could see. It boasted only four buildings: a saloon, general store, bunkhouse, and a tiny post office. The buffalo grass that surrounded the town had to be cut back each year, lest it grow up the side of the wood and sod buildings and the town disappear again.
In the light of a cat scratch moon, it was a desolate, lonesome place. The lowing of cattle could be heard from miles away, but the low, plaintive songs of the men moving between them were lost at a distance, tending to blend with the soft sigh of the wind. Dogs bickered and barked back at the various nocturnal sounds of encroaching animals, their shapes blurred as they moved quickly up and down the tracks worn in the sandy dirt.
You watched as one such dog eased up to the hitching trough at the front of the saloon, wary eyes on you as it leaned up and sampled the water., before its ear cocked backwards at some unheard sound and it disappeared across the street, back to its brothers and charges.
You tipped your bottle against the brim of your hat as it looked back at the mouth of the alleyway, lip curling as if warning you not to follow. “Wouldn’t even dream of it, asshole,” you mumbled into the drink.
It felt dangerous, this place, the air outside the swinging saloon doors foggy and warm from the pressed bodies inside, at war with the fall chill and cold wind that wound its way through the buildings. The only visitors were cowhands and punchers, loud men drowning themselves in noxious alcohol til the fumes had driven you out the doors. It was easier to watch the road, pretend you were useful, than try and keep an eye on Sean inside.
The irishman seemed determined to outdrink the cowboys, never mind the reminders you kept dropping that the two of you were suppose to lay low while Arthur and Trelawney met with a “friend” who was suppose to have information on coaches with light security. After the fifth round you realized Sean was ignoring your cautions on purpose, and finally fed up with him, you rose and left him to it.
After all, it was much easier to breathe outside as well, without all the hard, curious eyes that dissected your every move.
“Ain’t wise to be out here by yourself,” came a grumble from behind, and you flinched, hand dropping to your waist before your brain recognized Arthur’s voice. You breathed out slowly, and turned slightly to see him step out on the darkened porch of the saloon, cupped hands vainly trying to protect his match from the wind as he lit a cigar.
You made a curious sound, and his eyes flickered up, the edge of his mouth curling as he turned and leaned against a post with his back to the street.
“Nicked it from our circus manager.” He supplied, twiddling the cigar in his hand. “Figured I’d earned it after not putting a bullet in him on the ride here.”
You snorted, took a sip of your beer, and watched as he finished running the flame over the end, pulled, then checked the ash was even. “I don’t expect too much trouble from our end, but with this many liquored men in tight quarters, someone’ll end up dead by mornin’.” He set the cigar back in his mouth, shook the match and let it fall.
“I can handle a few drunk men,” you countered, and he chuckled.
“Of that, I have no doubt, but I’d rather be able to see you if trouble starts and you need help.” His look turned dark as the sound of breaking glass tinkled through the doors.
“Sides, ain’t no workin’ women here, and most these fellers ain’t seen anything resemblin’ a woman for weeks.” Oblivious to your raising eyebrows, he continued, “They ain’t gonna be too picky-” he glanced up and stopped, and you took a moment to pointedly sip your beer. “Well… they ain’t likely to care much on what they get their hands on.”
You hummed an affirmative, and he looked away, and you let your eyes ghost over him before you turned to the thick paned windows, the yellow glow distorting the moving shapes within. “You’re not worried about Sean?”
Arthur let out a breathy chuckle, and you glanced back in time to see him lean his head against the post and give you a slight smirk, hands settling around the buckle on his waist. “I don’t care about Sean’s hide half as much as I do yours, kid, and any man that’s drunk enough to tune out his scratchy yowl is welcome to em.”
It wasn’t what you meant, but you couldn’t help but feel amused, he looked so pleased with himself. Then you squinted, catching the slight ruddy tint of color on his cheeks. “When you were warnin’ me about ‘liquored men’, I didn’t think you were counting yourself.”
If anything, the color ran higher, but he met your squint and only let his lazy grin widen. “Well, never let it be said that I ain’t picky-”
You openly rolled your eyes at him, and he broke off, shouldered off the post and stepped closer. You felt the thrill of awareness seep down your spine as he stopped just shy of touching you, the smell of whiskey mingling with the cigar. His head tilted above your own, and even in the diffused light you could see the mischief warming at the edges of his gaze.
“You’re actin' quite brave for such a little thing.” You angled your body to face him more, watched as his eyes tracked down to the bottle you brought up between you to sip from. “I ain’t drunk,” he supplied suddenly, voice dropping to a lower octave, the sound rumbling between your close bodies. “Just figured it might be time for some liquid-”
He broke off suddenly, and both your heads turned sharply at the loud, booming barks coming from down the main road. Arthur slid closer, pulling you halfway behind the post as your head craned around in an attempt to see.
“That sounded too big to be a cow dog,” you murmured, bending to set your half empty bottle on the porch, taking the moment to peer out at the rapidly approaching figures.
“Naw, more like a bloodhound,” Arthur answered, all softness and warmth gone. His grip tightened on your bicep, pulled you upright, and started herding you further down the porch towards the edge of the building, where you both paused at the sight of another figure coming from the opposite way.
“C’mon, kid,” Arthur swung himself off the porch and into the alleyway with a soft thud, his hands already aloft to catch you as you jumped. He tugged on your arm again, and you readily followed.
“What about Sean, and Trelawney?” You whispered belatedly, almost skipping to keep up with Arthur’s longer stride.
“They’ll head out the back, go ‘round and get the horses. Despite all evidence contrary, Sean can smell lawmen a mile away. As fer Trelawney, well, he’s slippery enough to be part eel.”
“An eel?” You parroted, incredulous, and were rewarded with a sigh and a roll of shoulders.
“You start sassin’ me now, kid, and your hide might end up worthless after all.” It was rumbled out, but you snorted, and Arthur pushed you in front, urging you faster towards the back of the building. His hand was a burning brand against the small of your back, fingers splayed wide against the fabric as he pushed you forward.
Light flared at the end of the alley, and Arthur’s push became a firm grip as he hauled you back and around, and without thinking you pushed, hard, against his chest.
His back hit the side of the building, his hiss of pain turning into a low swear as you tripped forward and crashed into him. The hard edge of his pistol’s handle dug into your hip while the jut of his arm and elbow caught against your stomach, and you distantly realized that you had trapped his right arm, likely trying to draw.
The light swung in a high arc, and you panicked, threw up your hands, knocking against Arthur’s nose and sending his hat flying with another curse. You grabbed at the sides of his face and dragged him into the dip of your neck, heart a mad dash as you pressed more fully against him.
He stumbled, his free hand tightening in the back of your shirt and pulling it taunt against your ribs, and you felt the shudder work through him as the two day scruff on his jaw scraped below your ear.
You kept an eye at the end of the alley, swallowed thinly, and tried hard not to think of the way Arthur felt pressed against you, the warmth of him a burning furnace compared to the cold. Tried so hard not to breathe as he shifted under you, the creak of leather loud as he widened his stance. Without thinking you ran your nails through his short hair, lightly scratching his scalp, earning a hitch in his breath and another shiver against you.
The light blessedly continued on, and you heaved out a breath, lurching backwards and away from temptation. Arthur’s grip relaxed on your shirt, and he let you pull him up, though with a quick two step forward he knocked you off balance, his grip jerking you backwards at the same time.
“Arth-”, half his name, confused and high pitched, then the air knocked out of you with a sharp rap as your shoulders hit the wall behind you and he crowded into your space.
Your hands shot out, grabbed the fabric between the bottom of his vest and the rough leather of his gun belt, pressed against the warmth of him radiating out, and without thinking took in a deep lungful of air. He stank of horse, gunmetal and whiskey, the air between you rapidly heating up as he glared down at you.
His hand tightened against the small of your back again, and you shivered uncontrollably as you felt the fabric inch up and cold air tickled in. That whisper burn of his beard was back, cheek rasping against your earlobe as he leaned in.
“You think you’ll be so calm and collected when I finally do get my hands on you?” His voice was a rumble, a distant thunder that snuck into your bones and turned your stomach to jelly. Your teeth snapped shut, the click of your jaw audible, and you felt him smile, hot breath painting over your exposed collar, before he leaned in even closer, his larger frame caging you in as his chest pressed firm against your own.
“C’mon, kid, don’t loose your nerve now.” Amusement despite the chiding tone, and you breathed hard through your nose, felt his own nudge your head further to the side, the softness of his lips a shock on skin rubbed raw.
Slowly, softly, your hands moved, slid upwards over his vest until you could cup the sides of his neck, felt his pulse thudding in time with your own.
“There’s the kid,” his whispered words were pressed against your skin, so low you strained to understand, and you clamped your lips closed on the moan that bubbled up at the quiet praise.
“Think you and I need to have a talk,” he continued, his lips grazing your pulse once more, before he moved back slowly, his grip keeping you back. “But I don’t reckon we can have it proper, here.”
You blinked up at him stupidly, breathed in again, brain slowly catching up to what he was saying. He chuckled at your expression, hand coming up to chuck your chin. “C’mon, kid, let’s go find our idiot and circus manager, and get the hell out of here.”
He tugged you after him, and you went woodenly, your feet barely obeying as you followed the sway of his wide shoulders.
———————————————————————
Two more hours left alone with these idiots, and I might break my promise to Dutch and shoot Trelawney after all. Slippery as an eel indeed, don’t think even I could hold him long enough to strangle him, though my hands do itch something fierce every time he opens his goddamn mouth.
Sean is drunk, no surprise there, but at least he’s passed out, so we’re saved from whatever torment he could inflict.
The kid is staring into the fire, dead to the world. Doubt I could clap and they’d even blink. Don’t know if I should take any pride in that, but part of me still remembers the look on their face when I turned the tables on them.
Teach em not to pull a stupid stunt like that. Though in hindsight, I probably just encouraged more bad behavior.
I already planned on making the group split in the morning, for want of some peace and quiet, but maybe the kid’ll be up to following me back the long way home.
Ah, who the hell do you think you’re foolin’, Morgan?
#rdr2#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan x reader#red dead redemption fandom#red dead redemption 2 fanfiction#arthur morgan fanfiction#cussing#cursing
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Writing Masterlist 🌵
Link to all my work on Ao3
Painted Red 🖤
Chapters: [1] [2]
Arthur Morgan x Reader - Explicit - Longfic
Summary: Your years as a Working Girl have made you an expert in men and all that pleases them, but when a new sandy-haired Deputy arrives in town, you can't understand why he gives you and the other girls working in your parlour so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way - RDR2 longfic that runs alongside the events of the game, beginning in Rhodes.
Peach Flesh 🍑
Chapters: [1]
Arthur Morgan x Reader - Explicit - Oneshot
Summary: Arthur and a plus-size reader pretend to be married to con a rich heiress out of her jewels. Everything goes according to Dutch's plan until they have to work out sleeping arrangements.
Beta Reading 📝
I like to help writers in the RDR2 community with their fics when I have time. My availability status will be updated here!
Status: OPEN
Click for more info
Picture credit: @foundynnel
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Lifeless Eyes pt. 2
Pairing - Wolfstar x daughter!OC, Fred Weasley x OC!
Summary - Nova Lupin-Black comes home for the Easter holidays and her parents are in for a shock.
Warnings - crying, breakdown, mental exhaustion.
There's going to be another part of this, it'll be out soon as well!
Link for pt. 1 here
Link for pt.3 here
Remus Lupin tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. He had been standing there along with Molly and Arthur, excited to see his daughter after months.
A smile grew on his face as he heard the familiar sound and the train finally stopped and hoards of students scurried out immediately.
His eyes wandered around swiftly as he searched for someone with sandy-brown curls similar to his own, and two tall red-heads who accompanied his daughter.
The smile faded slightly at not seeing Nova even after more than half of the students were already out. She was always the one to exit the train faster.
"There they are!" Molly said with a broad grin and he turned to see Fred and George walking toward them.
Remus looked around excitedly after spotting the twins, knowing she would be somewhere near the two.
But he couldn't see her anywhere even with his great eyesight. He frowned and looked quizzically at Fred, motioning with his hand on the whereabouts of Nova but the boy just shot him a sad look and pointed towards the train.
His frown deepened at the vague and strange reply but it was quickly replaced with a bright grin at seeing a familiar figure finally walk out.
She had the hood of her black hoodie on and when she pulled it down, Remus' heart sank and he felt it being shattered into pieces.
He couldn't believe she was his daughter. His Nova. It can't be.
His smile fell as quickly as it had come and in its place was a shocked, agonizing expression.
The first thing he noticed was her face, it had lost all of its colour and was sickly pale compared to her healthy tanned one from before.
Her grey eyes, instead of having the mischievous glint like her Da were now cold and sunken. Terrible circles underlined them, suggesting a lack of proper sleep and rest.
Remus' heart was breaking more and more as he started picking up every change that had taken place.
Her shoulders were hunched over a little, as though burdened by the weight of the entire world. He immediately thought it to be due to studies and something else he couldn't quite understand yet.
The only thing similar was the all-black clothes she wore, but even they seemed so sullen and down.
His lips were pressed together as he saw Harry walking next to her, the boy being in a bad state too. He watched Nova lifting her head to scan the crowd in search of him, but he couldn't even raise his hand to indicate his position.
He was too shocked at seeing the figure of those two.
Looking up, she finally spotted him and they made eye contact. He felt his heart lighten at seeing a smile spread across her weary face.
He let out an involuntary smile too as she ran towards him as fast as she could while keeping a hold on her luggage as well.
"Pa," she grinned once she was near enough and his lips stretched wide. Him not failing to notice the slight lifeless tone in her voice.
Nova wasted no time in jumping on him, making him stagger a little as he laughed. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, as though afraid that he'll disappear and she would have to go back again. Her face was pressed into his shoulder, taking in every bit of comfort provided by his form and breathing in relief at the familiar solace.
The soft material of his fuzzy sweater brushed against her cheek and she abruptly felt her throat tighten. She swallowed to get rid of the burning sensation that was getting more intense with every passing second.
"It's okay," Remus whispered as he rubbed her back. "It's alright".
Despite not knowing the reason for her shaken-up state, he somehow managed to calm her down. He told her it was okay and she believed him just like that.
"I missed you so much!" She exclaimed in a much more lively voice.
"I missed you too," he said and took the trolley from her hand before the two joined the Weasleys.
"She's looking better already," Fred muttered to his brother who nodded brightly. "Ready to go home, love?" He asked her.
A grin was seen on Nova's face, it wasn't matching her usual one, but it was at least some start. "Definitely".
So everyone took hold of each other and together, they all disapparated to appear on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place.
"Yeah just push me around like a bloody toy why don't you?" Ron scowled at George who was purposefully hitting his little brother.
"Shush it, Ronniekins," Ginny smirked, pointing at Molly who made a silencing motion with her fingers.
The door opened and in stepped everyone, their banter dying out as the air was drowned in silence.
"Where's Da?" Nova asked her father as she searched around the hallway and in the rooms hurriedly.
Remus chuckled softly at her eagerness, "He's in the kitchen. Hopefully, the room will be as it previously was and not broken or burned down".
"Wonderful faith you have in your husband don't you, Remus Lupin?" Sirius Black's voice called out and there he was, leaning against the doorway with his classic smirk.
"Da," Nova sighed at seeing him and rushed over towards him.
Remus' smile fell as he watched Sirius' eyes scan their daughter. He saw the shocked and troubled look in Sirius' eyes as he took in her disturbed and frazzled image.
Sirius was so lost in his thoughts, aghast about the apparent change in his daughter that he didn't even notice her hugging him. He quickly wrapped his arms around her after registering her doing the same and held her right, while also sharing a worried look with Remus over her head.
"Missed you, Dad," Nova whispered and did not attempt to pull away. While Remus gave her a sense of comfort and serenity, being in her Da's arms made her feel secure and guarded by everything.
"Ditto, darling," Sirius found the words and responded, gently squeezing her before pulling away to take a closer look at his daughter's face.
His heart felt heavy and he managed to give her a huge smile to let her know how happy he was to have her back. And he was, he was glad that she was home but was also a little uneasy at seeing the grim differences.
She gave him another small smile before dragging her trunk and swiftly darting into her room. Not giving anyone else a second glance as she disappeared.
Sirius walked over to Remus, his expression filled with anguish. "What the hell happened?!"
"I don't know," Remus muttered back in a quiet voice. "Something is seriously going wrong".
Sirius was about to say something when he caught sight of Fred and beckoned the twin over.
"What's wrong with Nova?" Sirius questioned as he placed his hands on Fred's shoulder. There was some sort of desperation in his voice.
The young man looked down with a miserable face and sighed, "It's been like this for the last two or three weeks. We've all been trying to get her to talk, but she wouldn't even open her mouth. She's hollow, a shadow of herself, as good as a ghost".
"Is someone giving her trouble?" Remus asked with a slightly stern tone.
Fred hesitated, he had promised Nova that he would not tell her Dads about anything. But he couldn't leave them without any answer, he could see very well that they were broken themselves.
"I don't know exactly, there are many things and as I said, she refuses to speak about them. Sometimes she gets stressed because of her studies, or we thought so. But it's something else too, something she's not telling us".
Remus and Sirius shared a worried look, both of them thinking continuously about the possible reasons.
"I think you two are the only ones who can bring her back," George interrupted and stepped beside his brother. "Me, Fred, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Katie, Lee; everyone has tried".
"She smiled for the first time today, you know?" Fred whispered and the two older men felt even more saddened.
"Yeah," said George with a small chuckle. "Almost after a whole month".
"We'll talk to her," Sirius nodded frantically as though trying to reassure himself.
"But don't rush her," suggested Fred. "Take it at her pace. She will lash out at you or maybe even block you away".
"Don't worry, we'll handle it," Remus gave them a small smile and they left.
The couple was left in silence now. The grey-eyed man looked at his husband, taking notice of all the worry lines on his face. He walked over to Remus and wrapped his arms around the other's torso, burying his face in the comfy material of the sweater.
Remus released a deep breath and he too reciprocated the actions, holding the other tight. "We'll talk to her after dinner," he spoke quietly.
Sirius nodded but then looked up, his eyes filled with tears and shining silver.
If there was one thing that scared him the most, it was always regarding his daughter. He couldn't bear to watch his little star struggle like that.
"I'm worried, we're not gonna lose her are we?"
"Hey," Remus whispered and cupped his cheeks. "We're not losing her, love. She's just not in a right mindset. We'll talk to her, yeah? She's gonna be fine, completely fine. We'll have our Nova back in no time, okay?"
"Yeah," he smiled and leaned forward to gently kiss Remus slowly, passionately. As though they had all the time in the world.
----------------------------------------------
The two entered the kitchen and smiled at the chaos that was currently happening, their lips twitching at the house feeling lively once again.
Remus' eyes scanned the crowd and just as he was about to sit down, he noticed Nova was missing.
"I'll get her," Sirius voiced his thoughts and he nodded, though his forehead had a crease of concern.
Sirius silently walked up the stairs and knocked on Nova's door, hearing frantic shuffling from inside.
The door opened seconds later to reveal her standing there wearing an over-sized hoodie that belonged to Remus and he smiled softly.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah 'course," she said and stepped aside as he walked in and gave the room a brief scan, noticing it being strangely clean and organized.
Nova sat cross-legged on her bed and picked up a random book, pretending to read because she was no way interested in a conversation.
"They're all playing downstairs, don't feel like joining them?" He questioned gently, making sure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.
"Nah," she shook her head. "Not in the mood. Just tired actually".
He nodded, fully knowing that every sentence she uttered was a lie.
"I missed you," he then continued. "Me and Rem, we missed you a lot this time. Couldn't wait for the holidays".
"I missed you too, Da. A lot," she murmured and Sirius knew this was completely genuine, filled with more feelings. "Wanted to be here with you and Pa as soon as possible".
He shifted closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, instantly noticing how her grip seemed much tighter, as though- as though she was afraid that he was going away.
He didn't say another word, being silent the entire time and Nova was thankful for that.
She then turned and wrapped both of her arms around his torso as best as she could while still sitting and buried her face in his shoulder.
He heard her let out a deep breath and he tightened his hold, rubbing her back as he kissed her head.
He then pulled away after a moment, much to her reluctance.
Sirius gently placed his hand on her cheeks to make sure she was looking at him, much like he had done when she was younger.
"Nov, what's the matter? What happened at school?" He asked as softly as he could muster.
He saw the way her silver eyes darkened and narrowed at the mention of Hogwarts, saw the way her eyebrows furrowed and how her jaw clenched.
"As usual, Da," she replied with a brave smile. "Just drama, gossips, pranks, laughter. The usual stuff".
"Like I'm going to believe that," he said with a slight scoff and the door opened as Remus stepped in.
Nova's heart took up its speed as she realised what they were doing, they were going to question her. She couldn't avoid them now.
Her face took on a panicked expression as she looked at Remus, but he just offered her a kind and gentle smile and sat to her left.
"Do you really think we haven't noticed it, darling?" Sirius asked with an understanding look.
"It's not just you, Star. We've seen the others as well," said Remus.
"No no," Nova shook her head and gave a small laugh. "Nothing's happening. Harry, Ron and Hermione are just stressed because of their O.W.L.s".
Sirius heaved a sigh and looked at Remus, communicating silently.
"Hey," Remus whispered and gathered her attention. He took her left hand in his, holding it as he normally would and Nova's insides burned as though her body was being set on fire.
She put her entire self-control in not whipping her hand back this instant and instead focused her mind somewhere else. But his fingers unknowingly brushed against the cut and despite it being covered by her sleeve, it stung like hell.
She bit her lip hard, holding the smooth flesh in between her razor-sharp teeth to contain the slightest reaction.
But she couldn't hold on anymore and without being suspicious, she slowly extracted her hand back from his grasp. "Let's go have dinner, I'm hungry".
"Don't do this," Sirius frowned deeply, not wanting to let this topic go.
"We just wanna help, love. You can talk to us you know that right?" Remus inquired and she nodded.
"I know that, Pa! The only thing, there's nothing to talk about".
"Nova," he said massaging his temple and sighing. Not angry, of course not. He would never be mad over this, just a little impatient.
"I DON'T WANNA TALK!" She yelled out, losing her cool at last.
Despite the door of the room being closed, they still heard the silence that fell downstairs. They had clearly heard the shout.
"DON'T YOU GET IT? I DON'T WANT TO TALK!"
"Hey now," Sirius said quickly and took hold of her arms. "No need to get all violent, Lion. It's okay, it's fine".
"I don't wanna talk," she now mumbled. The fire extinguished to form cold ashes. "Please," she whispered and her eyes glossed over.
"Alright no issue, not at all," Remus smiled at her. "It's okay, darling. You don't have to talk. But you gotta understand our side too, yeah? We're worried, we're bloody scared, Nov. You don't know the state of my heart when I saw you on the platform today".
"And your friends?" Sirius continued softly. "They're scared beyond belief. They think they're losing you, they think the Nova they know is gone, and she would never come back".
"I know that," Nova muttered and glared daggers at the floor, keeping her eyes from tearing up again. "But I'm okay, Da. I'm fine".
"Are you though?"
A simple sentence, a simple three word sentence and that was all it took for her throat to burn with a newfound intensity.
She swallowed deeply, a shaky breath followed soon and her heartbeat went out of control. The world around her started spinning and she felt her head going crazy with everything.
Conversations, comments, and thoughts echoed in her mind. Torturing and punishing her cruelly. Testing her it seemed, as to how far exactly were her limits. As to how much she can handle, before it was too much?
But this was it, this was too much now.
She couldn't handle it anymore and in a split second, hot tears streamed down her face as she gasped and inhaled, unable to control herself.
And before she knew it, a pair of arms were wrapped carefully around her vulnerable frame.
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#remus lupin#harry potter ff#sirius black#wolfstar#andrew garfield#ben barnes#wolfstar daughter#wolfstar masterlist#wolfstar fic#wolfstar angst#wolfstar dads#wolfstar x daughter oc#marauders ff#marauders fandom#marauders fic#fred weasley x oc#fred weasley fic#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley x wolfstar!daughter
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You've Got Me Hooked - Post Epilogue Bonus Scene
Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Riley McKenzie)
Word count: 2K
Warnings: Sex work, Stripper, OnlyFans, Light Angst, Family Drama
Catch up: Series Masterlist
Taglist:@amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @marytudorbrandon @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @foxyjwls007 @identity2212 @summersong69 @liecastillo @islacharlotte @evansabove1981 @eskiix @lilacwineandthesinkingsunmain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @henryownsme
A/N: My friend convinced me to post this early because we both have no self-control.
If you want to be added or removed from my taglist, let me know! If your name is crossed out, I can’t tag you for some reason.
Masterlist
Riley
I’ve only been able to lightly dose for the past few hours, what with the nurses coming in to check on me or to make sure our baby boy is feeding properly and not losing weight for any reason. Then there’s the fact that we are in an unknown hospital six states away from our home. I doubt Sy will ever stop saying “I told you so” for that one but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity at the contract this firm is offering me.
I love running RD’s for Don because it also gives me the chance to pick up some freelance work now and then. I just wanted to get a feel for this company before signing on for a twelve month contract and I knew I wouldn’t want to travel once the baby was born.
It’s hard to say exactly what it was that woke me up this time but what pulls my eyes open is the sound of a familiar voice out in the hall. The door is propped open, which Sy has been doing whenever he has to leave me alone in the room. It’s not really necessary since I have a call button for a nurse and it’s not like anyone but the other new mothers and fathers in the ward would hear me if I shouted for help but it makes him feel better so I don’t say any of those thoughts out loud.
“I need to call the office and let them know to expedite the paperwork. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes?”
“Yeah, alright.”
A man in a suit speed walks past the door and down the hallway that leads to the elevator. The other man apparently wasn’t in as much of a hurry to leave the building because it takes a few more seconds before he appears in the doorframe.
Like his companion, he’s wearing a fancy designer suit. His sandy blonde hair is neatly stilled but one rebellious lock hangs down over his forehead as he reads over the papers in a manila folder.
He looks older than when I last saw him, although that’s to be expected when you let five years go by between visits. As I stare at his left profile I begin to wonder what his life has become. There’s no sign of a wedding ring and for him to be dressed as he is must mean that he has fulfilled his destiny and become a lawyer.
My thoughts are interrupted when the tiny human by my side wakes with an ear-splitting cry. Immediately, I reach out and take him in my arms, laying him on my chest. I rock him as I whisper what I hope are soothing words and it’s not long before he quiets down.
The next time I look out the door I find chocolate brown eyes staring back at me in shock. The young man opens his mouth as if to speak but no words leave his lips so he shuts it again. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and slowly, he walks through the door. He stops about two steps into the room, staying a safe distance from me and the infant cradled protectively in my arms.
“Is my baby sister really a mother?”
I bristle at his choice of words. “I pushed an eight pound Syverson baby out of my vagina, I’d say that qualifies me for the title.”
Arthur taps the manila folder on his open palm a few times then tucks it under his arm in favor of shoving his hands in his pockets.
“You have every right to be mad at me. I’m really sorry about what happened. I never had a chance to explain.”
I don’t think mad is the right word. Mad implies that I resent being cut off or that I blame him for it happening. He’d already been away from home for four years by the time I got kicked out after high school. It’s not like he could have done anything to help or to change our parents’ mind.
We led separate lives while he was in law school and I was perfectly fine with that. We saw each other once a year at Thanksgiving and that was enough. What hurt was that he told my parents about the porn. That’s what I was. Hurt.
“There’s nothing to explain. You told on me and you joined them in pretending I never existed. Thanks to you the McKenzie name remains unblemished.”
“Riley, please believe me… I told them about the OF because I thought it would make them give in and send you some money. I thought the threat of some bad press would force their hand but I was wrong. By the time I found out what they had done, you’d changed your number and you’d erased any trace of Riley McKenzie from social media. I didn’t know how to find you and I thought that meant you didn’t want to be found.”
No, I didn’t want to be found. I didn’t want to risk people from the strip club finding my real accounts so I deleted them all. I started from scratch as Razzy and even now, I haven’t really gone back.
“Ri? What’s wrong, why are you cryin’?”
Sy’s deep voice startles me out of my thoughts. He briefly stops in the doorway, studying the room then side steps Arthur to come stand by the bed. He places himself between me and the stranger invading his space like the loyal protector he is.
I can’t imagine what this must look like to him. First there’s a man in an important looking suit standing by the doorway of the room and then there’s me — crying as I clutch our son in my arms. Whatever he’s thinking, he immediately goes into Captain mode.
“What’s goin’ on?” he all but barks at my brother.
“Sy?” I wrap a hand around his bicep, partly to get his attention, partly in the hopes of holding him back if he decides to lash out before he gets the full story. He looks at me over his shoulder, keeping his body towards Arthur. “This is my brother. Arthur, this is my husband, Sy.”
Both men give a small nod of acknowledgment but the tension in the room stays high. I told Sy the full story of what happened between me and my parents and the role Arthur played in that. I guess I should say the role I thought he had played. Sy was understandably very angry. He might have also said he would break his nose if he ever happened to see him. At least we’ll be in hospital if something happens.
“How did he know we were here?”
“I didn’t,” my brother explains. “It’s a coincidence really. We’re waiting on a judge to grant the state custody of a newborn down the hall.”
That does absolutely nothing to alleviate the tension in Sy’s shoulders.
“Barely a few days old and you’re already tryin’ to tear a family apart?”
My brother stands up taller, not even flinching at the tone of my husband’s voice. It’s a not so subtle dig but Arthur doesn’t seem to realize that it was meant to be personal.
“She’s a druggie who told a judge in open court that if they took custody of her oldest child she would just make a new one. I don’t know about you but I’d rather give that kid a chance at adoption and a good life rather than leaving them with a mother who thinks of children like they’re a goldfish in a petstore.”
Damn. Credit where credit is due, Arthur has a lot of balls to stand up to Sy like that. He looks at his watch and mumbles a curse.
“Can I see you again once you get settled at home?” I’ve never seen Arthur like this. He looks deeply upset by the whole situation.
“We umm… we actually live near Atlanta. I was only here for work but our son seems to have had other ideas. He’s three weeks early.”
Arthur’s eyes go comedically wide. “Three weeks early and he was eight pounds?” Neither one of us was by any means a big baby. Even now he’s only around five foot ten himself which is considered tall in our family.
“Yeah, that’s all this guy’s fault.” I poke Sy in the arm and he gives me one of his signature smirks though his eyes are all soft, looking at me with nothing but fondness.
Arthur’s phone dings three times in quick succession, causing him to sigh. He ignores it for the moment, instead reaching inside his jacket and producing a business card. He walks up to Sy, extending his hand. It takes him a second but Sy eventually shakes it.
“I’m glad Riley has someone looking out for her. For the both of them.” Arthur sets his business card down on the table by the bed and directs his next words to me. “If I can ever help you, in any way, please call me,” he says, tapping his finger on the card for emphasis.
“I will,” I tell him honestly.
Sy follows Arthur to the door, shutting it behind him. The boy in my arms starts to wiggle and fuss again so I push my top aside to allow him to latch on to my breast. We’re going to have to name him eventually. We’ve discussed a few options but we haven’t settled on anything yet. None of the names we considered before his birth seem appropriate now that he’s here.
Sy sits on the edge of the bed beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders.
“Is there anything I need to know ‘bout what happened before I got here?”
“He said he was sorry about what happened with my parents. That he’d only meant to help.”
Sy caresses the back of our son’s hand going completely still when the little guy moves it away in favor of wrapping his whole fist around one of Sy’s fingers.
“It’s your call, Mama. All I’m gonna say is if this guy is half as bad as me, having a hot-shot Manhattan lawyer on speed dial might not be a bad idea.”
I burst out laughing, leaning my head on Sy’s chest. If this were a cartoon, Sy and I would both have little red beating hearts where our eyes are supposed to be. Baby Boy falls asleep right there on my chest and Sy takes him from me, gently trying to coax a burp out of him before putting him back down to sleep.
“What do you think of Parker?” Sy suggests, walking around the room in small circles as Baby Boy sleeps on his shoulder.
“I was thinking Maddox but I like yours better.” I get as comfortable as I can, feeling the alluring pull of sleep myself.
“Parker Maddox Syverson,” he repeats, testing out the name. “Definitely gonna be a troublemaker.”
Sy kisses my forehead and I allow myself to close my eyes while Parker is placed in his crib with so much care I think my heart might burst from all the love I have for him and Sy.
“Even if he is,” my sentence is interrupted by a lengthy yawn, “he’ll be just fine as long as he has you as a dad.”
Sy pulls the chair closer, folding his forearms on the bed and laying his head over them. I begin to play with his hair, scratching slow circles over his scalp. I love his curls. He occasionally keeps his hair longer than he prefers just so I get to play with it. I hope Parker gets his Daddy’s curls. The motion feels peaceful and meditative, aided by the low appreciative rumble coming from my husband’s chest.
“I love you, Sy. Thank you for making this my life.”
He shifts just enough to reach my free hand, intertwining our fingers together. “Back atcha, Mama.”
#captain syverson#captain syverson fic#captain syverson fanfic#captain syverson fanfiction#captain syverson x ofc
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Strawberry
High honour Arthur Morgan x F!reader
Warnings - minors DNI, 18+, smut, fluff
A/N - Ayo I haven’t written anything in a while, I’m a bit rusty. Be kind Lmao not proof read
‘Can I get a bath please?’ The gruff voice echoed from the lobby of the small hotel you worked in. You knew that voice instantly. Arthur Morgan. The outlaw, your outlaw. He’d been coming to the hotel in Strawberry on and off for a few months, but his visits became more frequent once you’d started working.
You adjusted your bosom and tightened the corset which hugged your figure, flattering every curve. Straightening out your blue petticoat you quickly added a small amount of rouge to your lips. A present from your aunt who lived in Paris. Adding a small touch of jasmine oil to your neck, it was the final touch.
In the bath room you lit the fire and tidied up a little bit, you always wanted to make it perfect for him. He was so handsome, a strong jaw littered with stubble, sparkling blue eyes and sandy coloured hair. Considering he was an outlaw he was nothing but respectful to you. You watched as his eyes lingered on your lips, your collarbones, your neck. But he never made a pass at you.
You knocked on his bedroom door, your heart pounded in your chest. ‘Yeah?’ His voice boomed from behind the door. ‘Bath is ready’ you chirped, again smoothing out your petticoats. He swung the door open, his face softening instantly when he met your gaze. ‘There she is’ he cooed ‘how’ve you been darlin?’
That name.
It made you swoon every time. Every damn time.
‘I been fine, workin’ mostly. How bout you?’ You smiled up at him, his broad physique filled the doorway. He was dressed in all black, his sleeves rolled up showing off his golden muscular arms. ‘Ohhh you know. This n that, nothing too excitin’’ he drawled, the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk.
‘Why don’t I believe you Mr Morgan. You been getting into fights again?’ You nodded at his gloved hands, he never wore gloves. Crossing your arms, you grinned up at the outlaw stood before you. He stayed silent. ‘Hmm. Baths ready’ you winked as you moved away from him.
Grabbing your arm he stopped you in your tracks ‘gimme five minutes darlin, I’ll see you in there.’ Nodding you offered him a warm smile before leaving to give him some privacy. Your heart thundered in your chest at his touch, his worn leather gloves felt smooth against your skin. The heat from his hands bled through searing your skin at the touch.
You busied yourself for a few minutes before returning to the bath room. Knocking on the door your sweet voice pierced the wood, ‘need any help in there?’ Biting your lip you eagerly waiting for his reply. ‘Come on in darlin.’ Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, you felt more nervous than normal.
Entering the room the warm glow from the fire shrouded Arthur as he led in the bronze tub. He looked insanely beautiful, his eyes met yours, instantly captivating you. The brilliant blue shone against the whites of his eyes. But you instantly noticed new wounds on his chest, his arms, his knuckles. Noticing your horrified expression he glanced at his body. ‘Ain’t nothing sweetheart, come here.’
Doing as you were told you went and sat on the small stool next to the bath. ‘Arthur what have you been up to?’ You whispered, as you lightly grazed your hand over his bicep. He gripped your hand and placed a tender kiss along your knuckles, ‘it ain’t nothin, I promise.’ You raised an eyebrow and pressed your lips together unimpressed.
It may have only been a few months of knowing him but you’d grown rather fond of him. Looking forward to his visits, his stories … and well just being with him. Even if it was just assisting him with his hygiene.
Noticing your glazed over expression Arthur placed his hand around your cheek, cupping your jaw so gently. The sudden warmth brought you back and you locked eyes with him, smiling softly into his touch. ‘Hi’ you whispered. ‘You better not be worrying about me, I don’t deserve that from yah.’
Pulling away instantly you slapped his hand ‘Arthur Morgan! Do not tell me what you’re worthy of, I will decide that. You’re worth so much more than you allow yourself to be’ you chided. A small blush crept along his cheeks at the reprimand, he didn’t think he was worthy of anything from you. He didn’t deserve your kindness.
‘Enough of that, tell me what you been up to’ you asked motioning him to give him his arm to wash. As you washed his muscular form he filled you in on his recent adventures, hunting bison with a gang mender called Charles, getting into a bar fight in Valentine. Which would explain the bruising. You laughed heartily at Arthur being called ‘pretty boy’. Oh that sound, the sound of your laughter filled Arthur with a warmth he missed so dear, it was addicting.
You rubbed your hands in his hair, lathering the sage shampoo lather amongst his sandy locks. His groans slightly as you dig your nails into his scalp, smiling to yourself you caught him roll his hips. The milky white water waving just slightly that you were sure you saw his cock hardening. Deciding to push this a little further you continued to massage his head, but this time bending down to nip at his ear.
‘Carry on doin that sweetheart and I might just have to have my way wit chu.’ His voice was thick, oozing with utter desire and want. Feeling a little more confident you dropped your hands to his neck, encasing his jaw within your palms. You nipped his ear again smiling as you whispered ‘maybe I want you to cowboy.’
A guttural growl left his chest as his chest heaved, ‘go to my room, I expect you be to naked by the time I get in there. Understood?’ He pulled your arms down over his chest, forcing your body to lay on his wet skin. Kissing your arm he let you go ‘go on woman.’
Needing no more direction you bounced into his room, quickly untying your shoes and stopping down to nothing but the skin you were born in. Lying down on his bed you draped yourself over the mattress. Your heart thundered in your chest as you tried to catch your breath. Hearing the bathroom door shut nearly sent you over the edge. You’d wanted this for so long and it was finally happening.
He entered the room wrapped in a towel, his wet hair stuck to his face framing it strand by strand. Your eyes widened at his body, B-road shoulders, pectorals harder than stone, a mass of hair on his chest which lead to a blonde happy trail. The towel sat dangerously low on his hips which swayed as he walked over to you. ‘Jesus woman. You’re beautiful.’
You felt heat rise within your body at the compliment, not used to receiving them from anyone. Arthur stood before you in all his glory, the subtle smell of sage invaded your senses only heightening your senses. He ran his thumb along your jaw, pulling your chin up to look at him. ‘Sure you want this?’ He asked, concern suddenly laced within the azure of his eyes. Nodding firmly you reached up to his towel, pulling it firmly away. ‘More than anything Arthur.’
With that he pushed you backward onto the bed, pinning your hands above your head. His hovered his lips just slightly above yours, his breath fanned ever so softly over your face. His eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail, committing it to memory, he want going to rush this. Slowly but surely he lowered his lips to yours, pulling you into a tender kiss. His lips were softer than you thought, the subtle gently tickled your skin as he began to move his jaw.
Tentatively he opened his jaw, opening yours with it. You groaned softly into his mouth as he swiped his tongue along yours. Pushing your tongue into his mouth he rolled his hips into yours, the kiss deepened as you both fought for dominance. Arms still pinned above your head he broke off the kiss and kissed along your neck to your ear. ‘Beautiful’ he whispered.
He nipped along your collar bones and began to kiss down your body, your breasts as he released your arms. Instantly they wrapped over his shoulders, as you scratched at his back. Hissing into your skin he hovered above your thighs, his breath teasing your weeping cunt. ‘Touch me … please’ you whined. Hips bucking and grinding into the bed beneath.
‘So beautiful when you beg. So perfect’ he drawled, his southern tongue heavy and sweet like honey. A laugh escaped your chest as you threw your head back, part disbelief, part annoyance. Without warning he threw your leg over his shoulder and swiped his tongue along your slit. A moan flew from the depths of your chest at the sudden intrusion. His tongue felt glossy and slick along your folds as he began to concentrate on your swollen clit.
‘Fuuuuuck Arthur’ you moaned, twisting your hands into the sheets. He hummed into you, the vibration permeating your skin adding a new sensation you’d never experienced before. As you looked down you saw he already had his eyes fixed on you. Drinking in every expression, every twitch, every moan that fell from your swollen lips. ‘Yes … feels so good’ you panted, toes pointed on his shoulders.
Wanting to push you further he slowly pushed a finger into you, stretching your hole with his thick finger. He built up a rhythm, alternating his finger and tongue, working your clit, focused on your pleasure. And your pleasure alone. When he felt you relax against him he added another finger. Soon enough he middle and ring finger we’re punishing your hole as he biting his face into your cunt. In between moans he muttered into you ‘taste so good darlin, so fuckin good.’
You reached down grabbing his hair ‘want you, please …’ you panted. Unable to take anymore, you needed him and needed him now. Pulling away from your pussy he lowly licked his lips, savouring every morsel of you.
Crawling back up your body he kissed you again, this time allowing you to cup his face. As he lined himself up he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Pushing in his thick cock stretched you open, causing you both to gasp, mouths agape. ‘Mmmm good girl’ he purred as he began to thrust into you. You pulled him into your neck, nails desecrating his back from pure pleasure and lust. Red tendrils adorned his back, a display of your pleasure and deviance.
He panted against your neck, sweat began to build on both your bodies as he picked up the pace. ‘Feel so good sweetheart’ he said as he kissed and nipped at your neck. The room filled with the sound of skin on skin, the sweet sound of your wet pussy swallowing him whole.
Pulling out he motioned for you to get on top, sliding over his lap you sank down onto his weeping cock. Arthur threw his head back as you swallowed him whole once again. ‘That’s it, good girl, takin me so well.’ You started to roll your hips, grinding yourself along his pubic bone. He gripped your hips as he watched you come undone on top of him. Neck arched, head thrown back, as you succumbed to the intense pleasure.
You mumbled incoherent words as your high began to build. Your abdomen tightening and coiling. ‘Look at chu, cock drunk already. Doin so good sweetheart.’ You barely registered his voice over the static that now filled your ears. His thumb found your clit and he moved it in small circles, urging you to cum on his cock. As he felt you begin to clench around him he pulled you down to him. Resting your head on his he kissed your lips, still toying with your clit.
The cool snapped as your orgasm took over you, eyes snapped shut as you moaned into his mouth. He inhaled it like the finest opium, ‘keep goin’ … that’s it … I got chu.’ Brows furrowed together you desperately tried to catch your breath.
As you pulled back your high finally settling you were greeted with a warm smile. ‘There she is. Ready?’ He asked bearing his own orgasm. You nodded eagerly. ‘Where?’
‘My mouth.’
‘You’re gonna kill me woman.’
Climbing off him you knelt on the floor, eager and waiting. Arthur stood over you, pumping his thick cock with his hand. Groaning and whimpering softly, deciding to hello him out you took his cock in your mouth. Instantly pushing him to the back of your throat. He let out a choke of disbelief. ‘Goddamn sweetheart.’ You worked your mouth around his cock, savouring his taste on your tongue.
He pushed gently on the back of your head ‘I’m gonna cum sweetheart … damn … god’ he stuttered through his moans. Until thick ropes of cum laced your mouth and dripped down the back of your throat. He mopped up your saliva with his thumb before ducking his thumb.
After going you to your feet you placed a gentle kiss on your lips, pulling you into him. ‘How’d I get so lucky?’ He asked, stroking your hair ‘the most perfect beautiful woman wantin this ugly old bastard.’ Rolling your eyes you slapped him again, just like you did in the bath. ‘Arthur! Stop that. We’ve known each other months now, your smart, funny, kind. You mean so much to me.’
You brushed his hair out of his face, urging him to look at you. ‘I been sweet on you for a while now, if you ain’t noticed. I don’t want no one else.’ He traced his hands along your back, contemplating your words. ‘You mean it?’
‘Course I do Arthur. You’re perfect to me.’
He pressed his nose against yours before gently kissing it ‘you’re perfect to me too sweetheart. You make me real happy.’
‘Good. Make sure you come back and see me?’ You asked looking up at him with doe like eyes. ‘Darlin I don’t think I ever wanna leave yah. Why don’t you come with me? You’d make the happiest outlaw there ever was.’
Your mouth fell open, you’d only ever known Strawberry, ever since your daddy kicked you out. But an adventure may be good, and an adventure with Arthur? Even better. Smiling up at him you cupped his cheeks, tears lining the brim of your eyes. ‘Sure Arthur. I’d love that.’
——
@johnnytavish @deadbranch @havingnonamesucks
#rdr2 arthur#arthur morgan rdr2#rdr2#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan#rdr2 fanfic
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Tuesday’s Gone {Arthur Morgan x F!Reader}
Summary: Arthur comes to terms with the fact he was only ever meant to be an outlaw, and any other notions, or dreams would be forgotten.
A/N: Inspired by Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd in honor of the anniversary of their plane crash in 1977. Short and sad little blurb.
Word Count: 500+
Warnings: angst, no fluff or happy ending, character death, grieving, mourning
It was a beautiful summer afternoon when he left. A gentle breeze fluttered through the leaves on the trees. In the distance, birds called out to each other.
Your hair was messy and untamed, and the simple yellow dress you wore was covered with various dirt and liquid stains. In your arms, the precious son you and him had created all those months ago slept peacefully.
“Arthur, please don’t go… you don’t have to live that kind of life anymore… you could stay here, with us… if not for me, for your son.” You whisper, tears threatening to spill over. He sighed as he placed the saddle on his horse, adjusting the straps.
“I-… I’m not cut out for this kind of life… the way I live, it’s the only way I’ve known… they need me.” Arthur explained, refusing to meet your gaze.
“It’s not fair.. you’ll meet an early death, Arthur.” You cry, sniffling and rocking the babe in your arms. Arthur reaches into his saddle bag, pulling out a money clip.
“It’s not much but… it should be enough to keep you fed for now. I’ll be back… this isn’t goodbye.” He speaks softly, staring down at the ground as he places the clip in your hand.
“It feels like it,” You mumble, blinking away your tears, “You can’t even look at us.”
“I have to go.” Arthur responded, mounting his horse and kicking up dust and dirt in his stead as he rode off. You returned inside, sitting down on the old rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom.
“We’ll be okay…” You reassured the babe, your fingers running through his thin, sandy blonde hairs.
Months pass before Arthur is able to return. It was a dreary day, with dark clouds blocking out any source of light. Slowly, he approaches the cabin on the back of his horse. Outside the seemingly abandoned cabin, two crosses sit. His heart sinks into his stomach as he dismounts.
“No…” He spoke softly as he approached the graves. Engraved in the crosses were your name, as well as your son. There weren’t even flowers to adorn your grave. It was plain, and empty. You deserved so much more than a plain grave with no flowers or people to visit. Hell, did your family even know?
What happened? Who could have done this?
Arthur reaches for his satchel, pulling out a small doll that resembles a cowboy, carefully placing it near the cross engraved with his son’s name.
“I’m so sorry…” Arthur cried, wiping his tears as he knelt there in the cold, wet dirt. He was unsure of how long he was sitting there.
“It’s a shameful thing, son… did ya know ‘em?” A stranger asks as he passes by.
“Y-yeah… my… my wife and son.” Arthur explained to the man, sniffling. While you and Arthur weren’t even officially in a relationship, he figured it would be easier to explain this way. The stranger sighs, looking down for a moment.
“It was a robbery… a month or so back… all she had was $10 to her name.” The stranger explained to Arthur. His heart ached. He should have been there. Maybe, maybe then… they would still be here.
His lady and son are dead, all over ten lousy dollars.
Arthur vowed to himself that day, that he would never attempt a life of normalcy again if it meant risking the lives of those he cared for.
Never again.
#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#arthur morgan#angst#rdr2 spoilers#arthur morgan x reader#character death#no fluff#red dead redemption#john marston#dutch van der linde#hosea matthews
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Hi ! Could you post a list of who has been submitted so far ? (With the number of submissions for each if possible)
If that's too much work i completely understand and humbly request to know if more that one person (aka me) have submitted Obi-Wan and Anakin
[Disclaimer‼️ Just because a pairing has three or two votes does not mean that they are automatically going into the bracket. Pairings with 1 vote might also make it in if I like them enough. We will not be starting arguments over if they should or should not have made it in.]
Totalling at 235 submissions so far!
Will be in the bracket:
Usagi Tsukino & Mamoru Chiba, Sailor Moon, IIIII (prelims)
Sailor Senji, Sailor Moon, III (prelims)
Link & Zelda, The Legend of Zelda, IIIIIIIII (prelims)
Link & Zelda & Ganandorf, The Legend of Zelda, IIIII (prelims)
Link & Fi, The Legend of Zelda, I (prelims/bc i like this ones)
Inuyasha & Kagome Higurashi, Inuyasha, IIII
Aziraphale & Crowley, Good Omens, IIIIIII
That Guy and Their Cat, Real Life, IIIII
Homura & Madoka, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, IIII
Eleanor Shelstroph & Chidi Anagone, The Good Place, IIIIII
Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk, Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, IIIII
Captain Kirk & Mister Spock, Star Trek, IIII
Naruto Uzumaki & Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto, IIII
Grian & Scar, The Life Series, IIIIII
Submission Box
Three Votes:
Breekon & Hope, The Magnus Archives
The Doctor & The Master, Doctor Who
Xie Lian & Hua Cheng, Heavens Official’s Blessing
Hawkman & Hawkwoman, DC Comics
Doctor Doofenshmirtz & Perry the Platypus
Meliodas & Elizabeth, Seven Deadly Sins
Ash & Pikachu, Pokemon Anime
Two Votes:
Sakura & Syaoran, Cardcaptor Sakura
Wei Wuxain & Lan Wangji, Mo Dao Su Shi, II
Utena & Anthy, Revolutionary Girl Utena
Judai Yuki & Yubel, Yugioh X
FitzChivalry Farseer & Beloved/the Fool, Realm of the Elderlings
Yusuf “Joe” Al Kaysani & Nicolo “Nicky” Di Genova, The Old Guard
Finn the Human & Jake the Dog, Adventure Time
Sakura & Syaoran Li, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles
Eiji Hino & Ankh, Kamen Rider OOO
Gon Freecss & Killua Zoldyck, Hunter x Hunter
The Entire Cast of Phineas and Ferb, Phineas and Ferb
Harrowhark Nonagesimus & Gideon Nav, The Locked Tomb
Daniel & Luce. Fallen
Gilgamesh & Enkidu, The Epic of Gilgamesh
Kaidan Alenko & Commander Shepard, Mass Effect
Raleigh Becket & Mako Mori, Pacific Rim
Adrien Agreste & Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Miraculous Ladybug
Bebop & Rocksteady, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Katarina Claes & Sophia Ascart, My Next Life as a Villainess
One Vote:
Mieczyslaw Stilinki & Lydia Martin, Teen Wolf
Spiderman & Deadpool, Marvel Comics
Beavis & Butthead, Beavis and Butthead
Obanai Iguro & Mitsuri Kanroji, Demon Slayer
Emma/Melinda & Dimitri/Edred, Unicorn: Warriors Eternal
Dean & Pharm, Until We Meet Again
Kaiou Michiru & Tenou Haruka, Sailor Moon
Zunzite & Zoisite, Sailor Moon
Phoenix Wright & Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney
Witch of Delays & Cure Oasis, Tropical Rouge Pecure
John Doe & Arthur Lester, Malevolent
Hani & Hinino Yamato, Hiraeth: The End of the Journey
Dream /Morpheus & Hob Gadling, The Sandman
Adachi & Shimamura, Adachi and Shimamura
Edward Nygma & Oswald Cobblepot, Gotham (2014)
Zelda & Ganondorf, The Legend of Zelda
Reginald Copperbottom & Right Hand Man, The Henry Stickmin Collection
Henry Stickmin & Ellie Rose, The Henry Stickmin Collection
Jonny D’Ville & Gunpowder Tim, Mechanisms
Merlin & Arthur, Merlin
Vash & Knives, Trigun
Siren & Kappa, Castle Swimmers
Ruby & Sapphire, Steven Universe
Om Kapoor & Shanti Priya, Om Shanti Om
Solane & Sym, I Was Teenage Exocolonist
Will Herondale & Tessa Gray & Jem Carstairs, The Shadowhunter Chronicles
Agent 3 & Agent 8, Splatoon 2
James Sunderland & Maria, Silent Hill 2
Macaque & Sun Wukong, Lego Monkey Kid
Tang Sanzang (reincarnated as Tang), Shah Wujing (reincarnated as Sandy), Zhu Bajie (reincarnated as Pigsy), Ao Lie (ancestor of Mei), and Sun Wukong (ancestor of MK), Lego Monkey Kid, Journey To The West
Nadja & Gregor, What We Do In The Shadows
Catherine Foster & The Ghost, Archivist Wasp
Kaworu Nagisa and Shinji Ikari, Neon Genesis Evangelion
Kiryu Kazuma & Majima Goro, Yakuza / Ryu Ga Gotoku
Red & Blue, This is How You Lose the Time War
Church & Tex, Red vs Blue
Rand al'Thor and Ishamael/Moridin, Wheel of Time
Birgitte Silverbow and Gaidal Cain, Wheel of Time
Beryl and Sapphire, Beryl and Sapphire
Kiana Kaslana & Raiden Mei, Honkai Impact 3rd
Banjo & Sento, Kamen Rider Build
Orpheus & Eurydice, Greek Mythology
Odysseus & Penelope, Greek Mythology
Emet Selch & Hythlodaeus & Azem, Final Fantasy XIV
Yona & the Four Dragons (Ki-ja, Shin-ah, Jae-ha and Zeno), Akatsuki no Yona
Akane Kurashiki & Junpei, Zero Escape
Ryo Asuka & Akira Fudo, Devilman
Zagreus & Megaera & Thanatos, Hades
Megatron & Optimus Prime, Transformers
Emma Swall & Killian Jones, Once Upon A Time
Rumplestiltskin & Belle, Once Upon A Time, I Snow White & Prince Charming, Once Upon A Time
Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson
Buttercup & Westley, The Princess Bride
Orchid & the Moon Supreme, Love Between Fairy and Devil
Blake Belladonna & Yang Xiao Long, RWBY
Ozma & Reincarnations, RWBY
Raava/The Avatar Spirit & Wan/The Avatar, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Johnny Silverhand & Vee, Cyberpunk 2077
Newt & The Brain/Alice, Pacific Rim
Dr. Strange & Dr. Christine Palmer, Marvel Comics
Bill & Ted, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure
Lucifer & God, Abrahamic Religions
David and Jonathan, The Bible
Mickey Mouse & Minnie Mouse, Disney
Cinderella & Prince Charming, Disney
Dean WInchester & Castiel, Supernatural
Essek Theylss & Caleb Widogast, Critical Role
Lup Taako & Barold "Barry" Bluejeans, The Adventure Zone
Taako & Magnus Burnsides & Merle Highchurch, The Adventure Zone
Steve Rogers & James “Bucky” Barnes, Captain America Films
Mane 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Raven & Lloyd Allen, Shaperaverse
Nijigasaki High School Idol Club, Love Live Nijigasaki High School Idol Club
Shinichi Kudo & Ran Mouri, Detective Conan
Kusuriuri & Kayo/Chiyo Nomoto, Mononoke
Shun Shimotsuki & Hajime Mutsuki, Tsukiuta
Nanami Momozono & Tomoe, Kamisama Kiss
Red & The Boxer, Transistor
Yvaine & Tristan, Stardust
Jayfeather & Half Moon, Warrior Cats
Time & Fate, The Starless Sea
Sappo, Fragment 147
Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars
Ichabod Crane & Abbie Mills, Sleepy Hollow
Aragon & Arewn, The Lord of the Rings
Will Turner & Elizabeth Swan, Pirates of the Caribbean
Tom & Jerry, Tom & Jerry
Bugs Bunny & Daffy Duck, Looney Toons
Batman & The Joker, DC Comics
Akira Kurusu/Joker & Akechi Goro, Persona 5
Mytho & Ahiru, Princess Tutu
Dazai Osamu & Chuuya Nakahara, Bungo Stray Dogs
Koh & Canalo, Ryusoulger
Gai & Juggler, Ultraman Orb
Sonoi & Momou, Donbrothers
Haruka & Saruhara, Donbrothers
The Scooby Doo Gang, Scooby Doo
#mailbox#soulmatebracket#i also have not gone through and vetted every single one of these submissions yet#but everyone that makes it onto the bracket will be researched before hand
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