#john seems closer to dutch in a similar way arthur is with hosea but in a different manner i think. there is obviously a tension present | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arthurmorgansleftlung · 3 years

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Secret Cupid 💘

My @rdr-secret-cupid was *drumroll* @foundynnel !!!

This was so much fun to write!! Your prompts were super good! I went a little overboard and tried to tie in all three prompts — oops. Anyways, I really really really hope you like it! Also, I’m sorry it’s not being posted ~on Valentine’s day~!

And a big thank you to @rdr-secret-cupid for letting me participate!

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Bison Hunting // Sadie x Arthur // Secret Cupid 2021

Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Sadie Adler

Words: 2,475

Summary: Arthur, Hosea, and Sadie go on a hunting trip to Ambarino to find a bison.

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“You ready to go, Sadie, Arthur?” Hosea called quietly. It was early in the morning, probably five or so. Hosea, Arthur, and Sadie were riding up to Amberino from Lemoyne to hunt for bison, maybe some deer and fish as well. The cool, crisp air would be a nice break from the humid and swampy air that surrounded them now.

Arthur groaned as he walked towards Hosea, he was never a morning person. He lit a cigarette and placed it between his teeth, inhaling the smoke. Sadie yawned and stretched her arms before getting up and meeting the other two.

“You’re lookin’ a bit scruffy, aren’t ya?” Sadie pointed out Arthur’s beard. To be fair, it had been neglected over the past few weeks, and with everything going on with the Pinkertons, Cornwall, and everything else... it was excusable. Arthur scratched at his chin, finally noticing how unkept it was.

“Hmph. Maybe I am lookin’ a little rough. Can’t say yer any better, though. Didn’t have time to groom that mane of yours?” Arthur chuckled while Sadie grumbled in return.

“Alright, kids. If you’re ready let’s go. We wanna get there early so we have plenty of time to track the beast down. You’ll both have time to beautify yourselves while we’re there...” Hosea cracked a smile at the two and walked over to Silver Dollar to mount up.

Arthur and Sadie followed suit, Arthur on his white Arabian and Sadie on Bob. Arthur made sure to bring plenty of arrows, Charles had taught him if they wanted to hunt successfully, they needed to be quiet. And so they set off on their journey to the wintry and mountainous Amberino.

They avoided Valentine, but took a break in Strawberry just to walk around and grab some provisions from the general store. Arthur purchased plenty of snacks for his horse. Sadie, on the other hand, purchased things like kidney beans and strawberries. Hosea bought ammunition, and they were off again.

Arthur hummed a tune quietly, Hosea joining in occasionally. Sadie didn’t know these songs but enjoyed hearing them. The sun was now facing more west than east, which meant night was coming.

They had reached Ambarino by seven in the evening, which was a relatively quick travel time. Hosea and Arthur dismounted and looked for tracks of any kind, Hosea being the first to notice the faint hoof prints of what seemed to be a massive bison.

“Well, it has to have been here recently with snowfall like this.” Hosea muttered. Arthur murmured in agreement.

Sadie followed and squinted, looking for any sign of the animal. “I don’t see nothin’,” Sadie said with her well-known rasp. She had never been very good at tracking but was an incredibly good shot.

“You’ll learn!” Hosea grinned. “Let’s see if we can’t follow these tracks a little further, maybe we’ll get lucky and find it tonight.” Everybody got back in their saddles, Hosea leading the way and pointing out the different signs of activity for Sadie. The tracks eventually went through a river and made their way up a mountain. Everybody had grown tired.

“How about we set up camp and continue our search tomorrow?” Hosea suggested, and was met with agreement. Arthur started a campfire before joining Hosea in setting up their tents. It wasn’t long before they noticed Sadie looking frustrated.

“Why the sour face, Miss Adler?” Arthur asked. He then noticed that it looked like something crucial was missing from Sadie’s supplies: her tent. “Well, that ain’t no good.”

Sadie huffed at Arthur, sending a cloud of hot breath into the cold air. The one thing she needed most had been forgotten back at camp. Shit, she thought.

“Well, Ms. Adler, unless you’re against sleeping beside either me or Arthur, seems you’re sleeping in the cold.” At least Hosea offered some type of solution. She was closer with Arthur, and so she elected to sleep in his tent.

She seemed to be visibly, and audibly upset about her predicament all throughout their dinner of plump bird meat and kidney beans. What had gotten into her? She was never one to complain this much. Arthur was beginning to feel bad about the whole thing, was he really that hard to be around? Did he smell? Probably.

Hosea retired to his tent for night, reminding the other two that they had to be up early in the morning. Shortly after that, Arthur retreated back, leaving Sadie alone at the fire. She sat in her own little world, filled with emotions. Why had she so quickly decided to sleep beside Arthur? If she would have just thought about she would have known she wouldn’t have been able to sleep. She was in love with the man, for god’s sake! But what about Jake, her beloved late husband? What would he think of her now... sleeping in a tent with an outlaw? Sadie being an outlaw now? She couldn’t let her past define her present. This was not how she was.

“Ouch!” Sadie heard the quiet exclamation. It was Arthur’s low, gruff voice for sure. What was he doing? Sadie stood and made her way into the tent, where she found Arthur... shaving. He had cut his jaw, and pretty good at that.

“Oh.” Arthur was flustered when Sadie found him. “What? Can’t a man shave?” Sadie just looked at him, confused.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with shaving, but you ain’t shavin’, you’re butcherin’.” She teased him, watching the small droplets of blood trail down his muscular neck. “Let me help.”

Sadie knelt down beside him, holding her hand out for the razor. “Well no wonder you nicked yourself, this things duller than Pearson.” Sadie laughed and then composed herself. She wiped the blade clean and did what she could to make it useable. Arthur sat patiently, waiting for her to bring the sharp... ish blade to his skin.

Sadie hesitated a bit before bringing the blade to Arthur’s cheek, careful to avoid where he’d hurt himself moments before. She had to remind herself to breathe. Was she really this close to Arthur’s face? She gently brought the razor down towards his jaw, leaving a trail of bare skin. She continued to do so until Arthur was clean-shaven, free of any cuts minus his own self-inflicted one.

“I’d say I did a pretty good job, Arthur!” Sadie chimed. Arthur felt his face, not used to the smooth feel. He had never been too good at shaving, even after multiple lessons from Dutch and Hosea.

“Now do I still look scruffy, Miss Adler?” He teased, recalling what she had said that morning. She rolled her eyes before glowering at him.

“No. But I can’t say my “mane” is any better than it was.” Sadie had tried and failed multiple times on the way to fix her hair, but riding on Bob made it a daunting task. Eventually she just gave up.

“I’m not very good at braidin’ things other than horse tails but... I can try. If you’d like.” Arthur flushed at his proposal, and Sadie’s ears turned a bright pink.

“Oh, uh... sure. I suppose you can try. You owe me anyway.” Sadie turned her back to Arthur and untucked her hair from her shirt, before retrieving her comb from her pocket.

Arthur combed through Sadie’s hair, careful not to tug too hard. He had never noticed the light golden streaks that ran through her hair, or the slight wave that it had. He began to braid her hair, the best he could. Her hair was much finer than a horse’s might be, and it kept slipping through his fingers as it was smoother too. Finally, when Arthur got down to the ends of her hair he tied it off.

“Ta-da...” That was her cue to admire Arthur’s strangely pristine braid. Sadie felt the braid between her fingers, loosening a few pieces to make it look a little more worn.

“Where’d you learn that from? Miss Grimshaw?” Sadie snickered at the thought of Susan critiquing a young Arthur’s braiding skills. Arthur scowled at her, not answering. She was right.

“Do you think we’re gonna find that buffalo tomorrow?” Sadie asked. Arthur pondered for a moment.

“Well, darlin’, we’re hunting with Hosea, so yes.” Sadie furrowed her brow at Arthur’s response. Darlin’? Her cheeks grew hot. She exaggerated a yawn and a stretch, similar to her same one that morning. At least she had her own bedroll. Arthur blew out the lantern in their tent, preparing for rest.

Sadie took her boots off, but left everything else on as it was incredibly cold, even in the tent. Arthur followed suit, taking off his pants, leaving him in his shirt and long-johns. He settled onto his bedroll and pulled his blanket up over his chest. Sadie shivered in the now dimly lit tent, had she forgotten a blanket too? God dammit, she cursed at herself.

“Arthur?” Sadie was plain embarrassed, it was evident. Arthur turned his head and glanced at her, ready for her question. “How big is that blanket...?”

“Big enough, I suppose.” He lifted the blanket up with his arm and gestured for her to scoot in. Sadie made her way beside Arthur, his body like a campfire. Or maybe that was just her mind. Laying so close beside him made her realize just how small she was, or maybe how big Arthur was. She pressed her smaller frame against his, and convinced herself to go to sleep. She would need the energy tomorrow.

Eight Hours Later

Sadie awoke to the sound of Hosea’s boots crunching in the snow, and something heavy weighing down her torso. “What—?” she was startled to see Arthur’s large, muscular arm wrapped around her waist, his hand gently cupping her stomach. In her surprise, she woke Arthur, who quickly pulled his arm away and flushed a bright shade of red.

“I’m sorry Miss Adler, I—“ He sat up and shook his head, moving his body away from hers. As if on cue, Hosea opened the tent and was greeted by two very embarrassed kids (kids to him at least).

Hosea struggled not to laugh at the two, “We got bison to hunt!”

Arthur and Sadie pulled their clothes on and made their way out of the tent, greeted by venison cooking over the hot fire. “Thank you, Hosea,” Sadie mumbled.

After a nice breakfast and breaking down their tents, the three saddled up. Hosea decided it would be best to head a little more North, since that seemed to be the way the hoof prints were headed the night before.

After about an hour, hoof prints gradually began to appear. They were large, and seemed to belong to the same bison they were tracking previously. The prints became more and more pronounced as they continued on. Once the prints were undeniably fresh, Hosea gestured for quiet and pulled out his binoculars to see if the bison was in shooting distance.

Sadie got Arthur’s attention and pointed towards a hulking brown beast: the bison. Hosea spotted the bison at the same time. In a hushed voice Hosea spoke, “Sadie, the honor is yours. You’re a better shot than I am anyhow.”

Sadie gulped and pulled out a bow, a gift from Charles. She lifted the bow up, gripping it with her left hand and notching the arrow with her right. She drew the bowstring back, felt the strength of the bow and pulled the arrow towards her cheek, the string pressing into her fingertips. She quickly evaluated the environment: how much further did she need to pull, how hard was the wind, how far would the arrow go? And with a quick snap, the arrow went flying and quickly found itself lodged in the heart of a bull.

“What a shot!” Hosea exclaimed. Hosea was the first to ride near the animal, knowing that if the bull was still alive it would be cruel not to mercy kill it. Arthur and Sadie followed. Upon closer inspection, they found the bison laying down on its side. It’s breathing was labored, slow. Hosea patted its shoulder, and thanked the bull before drawing his knife from his belt and piercing the heart once more. It’s breathing had now stopped.

“I suppose we should skin and quarter him now,” Hosea said. Sadie and Arthur brought their knives out, and quickly got to work, starting at the legs and heading towards the stomach for the cleanest skin possible. Eventually, they had successfully skinned and quarter the bison. They loaded what they could on horses, and abandoned what little was left for scavenging animals.

Sadie looked exhausted, she had done plenty of handiwork back when she lived on her old farm, but had never worked on an animal that large. Sadie rested her arms on Bob’s saddle, her tiredness showing.

Smack!

Sadie felt snow falling from the back of her head and neck, and realized: she had been hit with a snowball. She bent over and made one of her own before turning around and throwing it at Hosea.

Hosea looked shocked, but realized what had occurred when Arthur let out a jovial laugh.

“Alright, kids, that’s enough...” Hosea dismissed the two and slyly prepared two snowballs. He launched them at both Sadie and Arthur, hitting them perfectly. Perhaps years of being a gunslinger had benefited him!

Sadie gasped dramatically and returned the snowball to Hosea, and then immediately threw one at Arthur. A snowball fight had ensued!

They pelted snowball after snowball at one another until the sun had fallen more west.

“Alright... really, we should head out. We won’t have anything to bring back to camp if we stay another night. Wolves ‘n’ such.” Hosea warned. And so, they actually did mount up and head back towards the camp.

This time they didn’t stop to sleep, it was too dangerous to leave that much meat on the back of their horses in the wilderness.

When they finally made it back, sometime around six in the morning, it was clear that the three were tired. Those who were awake assisted in storing the meat. Pearson commended them all for the hunting, not leaving out any “surprised” remarks about Sadie’s ability to hunt.

Arthur headed to his tent, Sadie following him to tell him thank you for the fun time and letting her sleep with him the night before.

“Arthur? I wanted to say thank you... for, uh, lettin’ me sleep with you. And teaching me about trackin’ and such. And the snowball fight... goodnight.” Sadie was shy when she spoke, mumbling at some parts.

“And for braidin’ that mane of yours! Thank you for cleanin’ me up, too!” Arthur gestured to his freshly shaven face, which had already started to grow more hair.

“Right. You’re welcome. Goodnight... again.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Adler.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan #sadie adler #hosea matthews #rdr secret cupid 2021 #mine

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rodeo-boots · 3 years

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Arthur/ Abigail when John left the gang for a year?

Thank you so much for the request!! I am not entirely happy with the result, but I hope you'll like it <3

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 1760

AO3

Warnings: Angst

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How long had it been since he had left? Weeks, maybe months? Arthur wasn't sure, he had long since stopped counting the days. Even longer ago, he had stopped looking for him; in jail cells, on the line-up for the next public hanging. His brother was gone, and it had been by his own free will that he left them behind; more precisely - that he had left his wife and child.

John had never been one to face up to his responsibilities. When things got hard, he ran with his tail tucked between his legs, ran from challenges as well as conflicts. Like the coward that he was. To him, it seemed like a family was the biggest burden of them all. The man couldn’t understand how much of a blessing they truly were. Or how much Arthur had wished he'd been granted a similar thing.

The family he's made for himself unwillingly, accidentally, was no more. Eliza and Isaac... the people he had wished to keep safe with all he had, the woman he's slept with without thinking of the consequences and the child their actions had brought into this world. What would he have given to still have them around; his possessions, his very own life. But there was no changing what was done, and no way to reawaken the dead.

Right now, he had a chance to make it better, as unorthodox as it may seem. There was a family in need of help, the woman his brother had left with their infant child and little Jack, who didn't resemble his father enough for John's taste.

Arthur released a sigh, running a hand through his freshly cut hair. He set the axe aside, wiping sweat off his brow before turning around, having felt Abigail's blue gaze on him while he had still been at work. "Somethin' a'matter?" He asked, ready to step in should she need help with Jack. The boy was small, sicklish. Almost like Isaac had been. Though he hadn't seen much of his own son in the past.

Abigail had her hands folded in front of her skirts, briefly staring down at them before her gaze lifted to meet Arthur's again. "I– I just... can we talk?" She appeared uncertain, Arthur taking a slow step closer, casually resting his hands upon his belt buckle.

"Sure," he replied, nodding ahead for her to lead the way somewhere more private. Between the tents of everyone else, there was hardly any space for deep conversations.

The gang had grown, with every state they passed only more people seemed to join them, Arthur hearing the rumbling laughter from Davey at the campfire, following Abigail towards a quiet corner she might've set her eyes upon before. They didn't talk too often, not genuinely at least, spoke of Jack and his needs or the weather, but never thought about bringing up John. The topic of him wouldn't help them any, not in their current situation.

Arthur settled down on a log at the outskirts of camp, safely hidden within the confines of nature. Abigail stayed standing in front of him, nervousness in her every motion, picking at her nails until she noticed and stopped. A sigh left her chest. "Be honest with me Arthur, do you– do you think he'll come back?" She didn't beat around the bush, Arthur opening his mouth before closing it again. He had no answer to give her, knowing that there was no reason to believe that John would return from his adventures.

"Abigail, I–"

"You know him better than I. Tell me." Her eyes were fiery, something unreadable behind them, something Arthur had no way to understand. He felt heartbroken about his brother's unannounced departure himself, but it had been months. They had no time to mourn the fool when he's clearly forgotten all about them in a heartbeat.

He thought about telling her that, about voicing the harsh truth he believed to be the only reasonable explanation. But Arthur wouldn't be the one to hurt Abigail all over again. She didn't deserve that. Looking up to her hesitantly, he finally opened his mouth. "I dunno." Which was true. "It don't seem he wants to." It was obvious, at least, that the man hadn't made his way back to them yet.

Abigail inhaled sharply, fingers bunching up the fabric of her skirts. What had she wanted him to say? "Listen, 'm not sayin' he ain't out there no more. What I mean is– he abandoned us, you'n Jack. And that don't seem like a reason to grief for him, does it?" He would understand if Abigail was mad, would understand if her devastation had persisted all those months. But by now it appeared like she wished for John to return, as if it didn't matter that he had dropped all his responsibilities from one day to the other.

"He's an adult, and he'll do what he wants. But you're an adult, too, and you can get through this without him." Even if he had tried to speak carefully as to not to upset her, it was clear his words had been fueled by the anger he felt inside himself. In his eyes, John had never deserved a woman like Abigail by his side, had never deserved a wonderful child like Jack – he obviously didn't want them.

Abigail's knuckles turned white with her tight grip on her skirts. "You're a horrible man, Arthur Morgan," she muttered, turning before marching down the way they had come.

Arthur stared after her for a moment, and another. He swallowed, his throat feeling impossibly tight. Whatever he had been supposed to say, the wrong things had to have left his mouth.

He had never been a great conversationalist to begin with.

Arthur continued to work, and Abigail did the same, What else were they supposed to do? Time continued to pass, and Jack grew, much faster than expected. Had Isaac grown so quickly?

Arthur was surprised every time he saw him, was frightened the more the boy's face seemed to shape into his father's. He had known John since he had been a boy, a child of little more than twelve, round-cheeked and wild eyed. His absence now almost made him miss that time. But there was nothing he could do.

Abigail continued to ask things of him, even after their last unpleasant conversation. She acted like it had never happened, kept up her act of a grieving widow, even if she was a free woman most of all. That's how Arthur saw it at least. He was sure John had already found another, scared of commitment as he was.

But Arthur rode out, every time Abigail told him so. He brought back books for Jack, brought him toys and food that suited his stomach better than the plain stew they all had to eat. Some days he brought something back for Abigail as well, dropped it off in front of her tent before turning, unwilling to ask what she would need the herbs for.

She had been a working girl in her past, had changed her ways ever since Jack had seen the light of day, but she still drank that damned tea. It didn’t add up in Arthur's head.

"Arthur? Can you– stay." That was a different demand than most days, the last one Arthur would've expected to hear. He turned back around, already having been ready to go, a heavy sigh rolling off his chest. It was dark and Jack was sleeping, having been read to until his eyelids grew heavy, snoozing by Hosea's side in the middle of camp. The older man seemed to love him like a grandfather would, which was good.

Arthur still didn't think it would be a good idea for him to stay, to risk another fight like the one he's had with Abigail months ago. "I don't–"

"Please," she sounded... odd, it's what she sounded like. Arthur gave in nonetheless, mumbling under his breath as he sat down by her side, gazing out into the darkness surrounding them.

He grasped for the right words to say, aware that in a situation like theirs, there might not be any. "You know I do what I can," he muttered, not yet looking at the woman by his side. "But I can't lie t'you, and I can't replace John, neither." Arthur had an inclination to say the wrong thing, realizing his words when Abigail took a sharp breath. He was ready to apologize all over again, but she stopped him, a hand on his thigh, blue eyes piercing into his.

"I'm not askin' you to," she said, leaning in, closer and closer, the hand on his thigh slipping higher and higher. This is wrong, Arthur swallowed heavily, pulled back.

"What d'you want?" He brushed her hand off his leg, reestablished the distance between them. She was a beautiful woman, no doubt about that. But she wasn't his, and no matter how angry he was at John, he wouldn't do anything he had no right to.

Her expression changed into something pinched, ashamed. "I just... I need you." It was clear that she wasn't proud of asking this from him, but that didn't make it any better.

He shook his head. "What're you askin' for?" He didn't want an answer. Didn't want the truth nor a lie. Abigail was a single woman with a child, her husband had left her with the responsibility, had left her to fend for herself. And he was mad at him, mad at John for throwing away what he never could've had; what had been taken from him with Isaac and Eliza, and what Mary simply didn't want. "I ain't John," Arthur reminded her, as firmly as he could. Of course he wanted to help, wanted to be there for her in times of need, but not like this. "Excuse me," he cleared his throat, stood without thinking twice. And this time it was him who walked away without looking back.

John came back. Unexpectedly waltzed into camp like the last year hadn't existed to begin with. And they all welcomed him with open arms; Dutch, Hosea, even Abigail who's mourned him all along, who had almost asked Arthur to touch her to quell her loneliness.

He regretted it, sometimes, watching them reunite all over again, wished he had stepped in when there was still a chance to, had given Abigail and Jack the prospect of something better. But maybe that just wasn't who Arthur was.

#abigail roberts #arthur morgan #abigail/arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 requests #rdr2 #my writing #rdr fanfiction

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tiredcowpoke · 4 years

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TITLE: Wedded Woes [9 / Final] PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: Trelawny talked up a big game at a scenic boardinghouse and, playing some newly weds, you and Arthur are paying the price for it. WARNINGS: Some violence and shooting in this one, but nothing overly gore-y. NOTE: Aaand there we have it, the final chapter in this little series. I struggled with this, I had it planned and knew where I wanted it to go but I always have issues ending things so hopefully it’s good for all of those who have been following this fic! Thank you call for the positive reactions this has gotten, it’s meant a lot to me. c:

The ride back to the town outside of camp was almost an echo of the one you took out of it with the silence and tension.

You had a poor sleep the night before, the thoughts of kissing Arthur in the hallway playing over in your head as you tried to pick it apart bit by bit. There was hatred that it happened the way it did, and after not exactly the best or bonding experience. Yet, there had been reminances of the feelings you felt. Someone solidly there, the touches to the back of your shoulders and arms around your waist. You birated yourself over the fact that it was all part of a role, you both were playing a role. You gave Arthur similar touches and leans and you doubted that he was as torn up about it as you were. At least, that’s what the bitter voice in your head had been saying. He had kissed you that first time, but he had admitted to it being out of confusion and anxiety about having more suspicion on the two of you. He had kissed you back somewhat with the second, but you knew better than to take that uncertainty you felt in it as anything but a sign that you shouldn’t have done it.

It had complicated, too, with the thought that you had been starting to get used to sharing a bed with someone.

Needless to say, the sleep you got wasn’t great but you got up easily enough in the morning. You figured you would have time to address it eventually, but at Arthur’s silence and his avoidance of your gaze, you started to just really want to get back to camp. However, you were anxious about that in a way, too. If you had known you would feel so complicated about the whole thing once it was done, you would have put up more of a fight with Dutch. Still, you couldn’t take back what was done and the take was a good one. They’d be happy with that. Thankfully, you were closer to a stateline, the carriage ride being a little shorter than the one you took up there, but it would still be a ride.

One where you couldn’t even look at the man beside you without feeling some sense of frustration and embarrassment. You wanted to apologize, and you knew a time would come where Trelawny didn’t have to witness every moment of it, but as it remained it almost made it worse going back than it was leaving.

At least back then you had some idea on what Arthur was thinking, now you just had questions. Had you overstepped? Was he angry? Was he as conflicted as you were? Would he even want to pursue anything if you admitted to feeling something? They were hard questions to bring up, and certainly not something you wanted to share around anybody but him.

So, you kept silent for the most part, almost scared you’d say something to make the whole thing worse.

“So, where’re you goin’ next? Gonna up and disappear on us again since this whole thing’s done?” Arthur asked Trelawny, causing you to glance at him out of the corner of your eye but you found your gaze moving back to the passing scenery again.

“Oh, I always come back, Arthur,” Trelawny replied around a chuckle, “One can’t expect to find the leads I do while just sitting around camp.”

“Ain’t nobody knows where you come up with them leads, so I’ll believe that…” Arthur returned with a short huff.

“Well, I’m sure Dutch will have you back to your usual brand of fun soon enough.”

You could only hope.

“Yeah, then you’ll slither off to wherever it is you go until you come waltzin’ back in here with another job in a couple months.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll be sure to suggest leaving you two out of anything that involves anything more than a simple pickpocket.”

“Were we really that terrible?” you asked, despite yourself, as you turned your head slightly to glance toward Trelawny. He tilted his head slightly, rubbing at his mustache for a moment.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t say you two were the perfect fit for the job, but we have what we came for so I suppose it’s unfair to say you were completely terrible.”

“I’ll be sure to let Dutch know you think that,” Arthur replied, his tone still light but you could sense something there. You weren’t going to look too deeply into it.

You let the silence fall after that, turning your focus back toward the road again. Eventually, the previous night started to catch up with you, letting yourself fall asleep off and on throughout the journey if only to keep yourself from overthinking yourself into a problem. There was some lightness that came with the short conversation, much as it wasn’t as relaxed and celebratory you had thought it would have been a couple days ago. Which you knew was through your own actions, but...well, it happened. It was a kiss, or two you supposed, it could have been worse if you had pushed beyond that. If Arthur would have even let you.

With another sigh through your nose, you shoved the thoughts aside as you tried to wake up a little more as the scenery started to become a little more familiar after a few hours of travel.

It was early evening by the time you reached camp, gone only for a couple days but the exhaustion you felt made it seem more than that.

You almost wanted to keep going, honestly, if only partly to avoid what waited within. Perhaps without the extra company of Arthur and Trelawny on their own horses, but you had almost missed riding in the open. You made a mental note to just go out for a bit the following day by yourself, but continued to keep pace behind the two men up ahead. Finally, you turned into some trees and down a path into a clearing with the familiar tents and wagons up ahead, Arthur calling out a greeting to the guard on duty. Sounded like John.

Steering your horse off toward a free hitching post, you allowed yourself a minute to pat your horse on the neck as you noticed a familiar figure stepping out of the central tent.

“Our own little wedding party! You are back…” Dutch called, jovial as he raised his arms up toward Trelawny and Arthur at the far hitching post. “All the more richer in spirit and money, I should hope.”

“Indeed! Quite the reward, I believe,” Trelawny returned, pulling the extra saddle bag off his horse that he had tucked the money into once you had all arrived at the nearest town to camp. He passed that on to the gang leader, Dutch weighing it in his hands a moment before he took at glance at them and then towards you.

“Well done!” he stated, “All of you! I think some celebrations are in order for your return and what you’ve brought us.”

Great.

You heard some cheers of agreement from camp, your hands coming up to rub at your eyes a moment but you couldn’t help the small grin that touched your face. Any excuse for a party these days, it seemed. You had only been to a few since you had joined, usually over successful scores or the camp in general just felt like it. It usually involved a lot of singing and a lot of drinking, two things you weren’t too sure you were up for in the moment but you figured you would get pulled into it one way or another.

Though, seeing Karen making her way toward you as you got out of the saddle told you that would be sooner rather than later.

“That was quick,” she commented once she was close enough, “I was thinkin’ y’all would be gone for a couple’a days at least.”

“Things lined up, I supposed,” you said, offering her a small but tired smile.

“Well come on, then!” she exclaimed, “Throwin’ a party in your honor and you’re lookin’ ‘bout as thrilled as you did when you left!”

“It’s been a long couple days, but I could use a drink and a good song so…”

The party had picked up shortly after you had relented to having a little fun before going to sleep and hopefully leaving this whole thing behind. Of course, a familiar unpleasant feeling grew at the thought, but you didn’t even want to address it anymore at the moment. Last thing you needed was alcohol and that at the forefront of your mind. Music and singing had closely followed behind as you sat yourself around a fire, Javier with his guitar as Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur seemed to be talking about something at a table.

However, you didn’t dwell on that. Not really. The night went on fairly easily outside of a couple scenes pushed forth by alcohol, some amusing, some not so much. You had grown used to them in a way, you supposed, not that they didn’t catch a couple looks but living with a group of outlaws wasn’t exactly smooth sailing most days. Dutch kept them together but personalities clashing was inevitable. Karen had started to get her fill, pulled off by Sean somewhere that left you being pulled off by Mary-Beth toward one of the wagons where it was more quiet.

It was surprisingly something you found yourself needing, and perhaps she had picked up on that but you couldn’t tell.

“So what was the most interestin’ thing about it?” she asked after a few minutes, bright eyed and interested, making you glance toward her with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, a big fancy house, rich people, the romantic intention despite it being fake on your ends…there had to be somethin’.”

“You know, I had been thinking you would have been better suited for it,” you replied with a small chuckle, “I found the whole experience to be strange and uncomfortable.”

Conflicting and confusing as hell, too.

“Nothin’ happened?”

“...Between what?” you asked, a sinking feeling in your gut about her rather pointed question. It was vague enough but you knew she probably didn’t want the details to the robbery in a situation like that.

“Well, we weren’t expectin’, but...with Dutch putting you together on that, I thought maybe it was a bit of fate that…”

“I...I can’t lie and say that those old feelings didn’t make the whole thing worse for me, but...I don’t know, it’s...it’s something I’ll talk about later when it’s not so fresh.”

“I understand,” Mary-Beth said with a small nod, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryin’ to get you to gossip about it. I just thought...well, you seem a little odd tonight.”

“It’s fine, it’s just…”

Speak of the devil. Mary-Beth had glanced up as you glanced down, trying to collect your thoughts a bit as you debated on telling her anything. However, she knocked her hand subtly against your arm, causing you to glance up to see Arthur making his way over. He didn’t seem all that hesitant, but he wasn’t exactly overflowing with confidence. Still, you let the words die on your tongue as he indeed decided to walk toward you both.

“Mary-Beth,” he greeted with a nod before glancing toward you, “I don’t wanna pull you away from what you was doin’ but I wanted to talk with you a minute.”

“Sure…” you started, glancing up as Mary-Beth stood from where she was sitting on the box next to yours.

“I should see how Karen and Tilly are holdin’ up,” she explained, giving you a quick grin before she turned and walked off. You had a feeling this would only add to her questions later.

You glanced back toward Arthur as he came to sit down on the box Mary-Beth had left, hands resting on his knees as he tilted his head down in thought. Nervousness came back tenfold from last night, keeping back any questions you may have asked to start this conversation but Arthur had approached. You figured he should start and you could get an idea on what type of conversation this would be.

“I ain’t all that good with words, least ones I can’t write down,” he admitted, glancing up and stared off into the fire lit darkness that had surrounded camp. “I just...want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“I...this whole thing got me confused, and not exactly for the reasons I told you about before,” you said, rubbing a hand across your chin. Come out with it. There’s no other time than now. “I thought it wouldn’t get in the way, but…I’m fond of you, Arthur.”

“Me?” he asked, almost sounding disbelieving, “This because we pretended to be married?”

“No, well…” you started before letting out a sigh, covering the lower half of your face with your hands.

“I know you know the reasons for why...why I kissed you that first time, but...last night, did that mean anythin’?”

“...Yes,” you stated after taking in a breath, heart pounding, “I just...your reaction. I have no idea if I stepped over a line or you just…”

“...I mean, look at me,” he stated, “I thought you was just confused by everythin’, just some...old ugly--”

“I’ve liked you since I first saw you,” you blurted out, taking a small breath in, “You’re not old, you’re not ugly. Not to me. That’s been there since before this whole mess of a job. I’d just...I buried it down because...I’d just met you and there was that distance, then some of the other women picked up on it and I was lead to believe it wouldn’t happen from what they’d said. Nothing bad, just that...well, there was that distance.”

“Christ…” he muttered, making you glance over at him as he seemed to be weighing his words.

“I just...I need to know,” you continued, trying to keep your gaze on his as he turned to look at you, “Is there...is there even a chance that we could...well, be something?”

There was a heavy pause after, Arthur dropping his gaze as he stared into the grass at his feet for a few moments. You could feel your stomach twisting, making it hard to sit still and not just stand up and pace around. Nervousness bloomed into anxiety that had you wanting to take all the words back the more silence situated. Yet, this was it. This was the moment to really know if it was really time to bury those thoughts and feelings.

“I was gonna ask you the same damn thing,” he stated after a few moments, shaking his head with a bitter huff, “Kissin’ you, you kissin’ me, hell I...I don’t know. I been beatin’ myself up all day ‘bout not bein’ able to say anythin’.”

“Me, too,” you admitted with a sigh, his words filling you with a lightness you couldn’t describe while pulling you back down harshly, “If we’re asking the same question, I’m sure you already know how I’d answer, but…”

“I ain’t an easy man to be with,” Arthur replied, “I’m a stubborn bastard, no good…”

“You…” there was a hitch to your voice, causing you to shake your head slightly before continuing, “You really come over here to talk me out of this?”

“...No. No, but I mean…”

“I’m not asking you to actually marry me, you know that right?” you asked, your chuckle a touch tense but it caused Arthur’s expression to soften somewhat, “If you want to try, I’d...I’d be more than willing.”

“You wanna try?” he repeated, looking over your face.

“Yeah, I’d like to,” you replied with a nod, “If you’re willing.”

Arthur glanced away for a moment, almost searching before he nodded lightly, glancing back toward you.

“Alright...I’d like that, too.”

The relief that settled into you at that was something else, the small grin that touched your face threatening to spread into a wider one. Still, you just found yourself nodding again, bowing your head a moment before giving him an actual smile.

“Okay, then we’ll do that.”

Arthur rose after that, causing you to follow with him. You were preparing for him to leave to return back into the camp’s little party, and for a moment it seemed like he was about to do just that. Really, you couldn’t say you felt like you could expect much other than what he had told you and agreed to, you weren’t too sure what speed he actually wanted to take with everything. However, instead of walking off, he paused to glance back toward you with some visible debate in his expression before it seemed to fade into something softer.

You stepped toward him when you noticed him closing the space between you both, bringing his hands up to cup your face before pressing a kiss to your lips. There was something much different about it, less sudden and uncertain, and it had you melting a bit into the feeling as you brought your hands up to grip onto the front of his jacket. You pressed back into it with the same intensity, something short and sweet but it had that hint of promise that you had been missing from the others. It had you lingering close once the kiss was eventually broke, smoothing your hands against the fabric of his jacket that you had been gripping, exhaling softly through your nose.

“I can almost hear the mocking now once they’ve figured this out…” you commented around a chuckle, Arthur returning it himself lightly.

“Yeah, well, ain’t their business and we ain’t gotta say anythin’ yet,” he stated, dropping his hands away from your face as you smiled softly at him.

“That’s true…”

The both of you had finally parted after that, you deciding to linger back for a few moments before returning to the party as you let everything settle in your mind. Really, you were surprised at how composed you had remained throughout that whole thing, though you figured you had already acted boldly enough the previous night anyway. Really, the whole thing had you pressing your hand to your mouth a moment to hide the wide grin that broke out, knowing this wasn’t the end of it and there was some uncertainty on how it would all play out in the end, but it wasn’t the end. That was enough.

However, you didn’t get to dwell on that thought for too long as you heard some rustling of grass behind you, along with a chuckle.

“Here I was thinkin’ I was gonna have to awkwardly step in, if only for my own sake.”

The voice was familiar, but it put a jump to your heart as you turned around to see Hosea stepping out from around a wagon. You gaped at him a moment as he regarded you with an amused grin, tilting his head.

“I noticed you missin’, considerin’ it’s your party, thought I’d find you out here but…” he started, “You two really fall for each other pretendin’ to love each other?”

“That’s a...strong question, Hosea,” you said with a soft chuckle. He gave you a knowing look, but didn’t comment any further, giving you a pat on the shoulder before he started to walk ahead toward the camp again.

“Well, come on. Dutch’ll least wanna thank you for your work before you disappear for the night. Now I’m thinkin’ he’s not the only one who’ll miss you ‘round there tonight.”

#my writing.#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

revenge is a fool’s game // arthur morgan — [02]

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

word count: 2023

warnings: strong violence, emotional distress, mentions of torture, explicit sexual references, a whole lotta angst, cowboy stuff;

notes: I might actually not do a taglist, since not many got back to me; but let’s see? I’ve tagged https://julliiaaq.tumblr.com for asking~

masterlist in bio~

Also, this is actually a story on my AO3, with an OC. I’ve remodelled it to fit as a reader insert here, and the story might change towards the end so... just wanted to put it out there!

Chapter Two: Vengeance

○

Arthur had no idea why Riley was brought to camp. Their camp was small, and he would have actually preferred it that way.

He saw to it that each person had a role to play—Dutch and Hosea were the backbones, and their backbones were Annabelle and Bessie (who in all honesty, Arthur knew, would want Riley to be a part of the gang because they were nice women and Riley looked malnourished, to say the least).

There was Susan Grimshaw, who was one of the safekeepers of the entire camp, she made sure everything stayed in place—however, Arthur felt a tad bit bad for her when he thought of her, considering how she was sweet on Dutch but Dutch had Annabelle now.

There was a butcher too, from the Navy, whose name Arthur kept forgetting. And even if his food was terrible, Arthur knew he had a role to play as well. And then at last, there was the kid, John Marston. Arthur wouldn’t admit it, but he had a soft spot for the kid. He was feisty, something Morgan appreciated in the boy, but even John looked more aggressive and intimidating than Riley did, and that was saying something. John was just fifteen years old, barely a man.

But, Riley? What role can this gawky little kid play? Arthur grunted. People like him are part of our group now, Arthur thought internally. And Mary… It stung him each time he thought of her, but there was little he could do.

He knew he had to move on, he knew that things had changed now—after last year’s robbery, they were officially thieves, leading lives that had a difficult path ahead of them. Each and everyone in the camp had to be careful and ready for any change. Riley didn’t seem to fit that image, in Arthur’s mind.

“Somethin’ on your mind, Arthur?” John’s voice alerted him.

John Marston’s voice had recently undergone a change. Puberty hit him late, something Arthur made fun of him for, but once it had hit him, the growth spurt surely surprised everyone at camp. Especially Dutch. Dutch wanted John to take up arms, something Arthur wasn’t so sure about, but knowing Dutch, he definitely had a plan. And Dutch’s plans always work.

“What do ya think o’ that kid, Riley, eh John?” Arthur asked, looking at Mrs. Grimshaw speaking to Riley near Dutch’s camp.

“He looks funny,” John said, smirking. “Maybe he’s as old as me. Thas’ why he’s small o’ somethin’.”

“Hm,” Arthur wasn’t too sure. Something about the kid seemed off. “Maybe, maybe.”

Riley didn’t want to be a part of the group. He had other plans, and even if he was simply passing by, he knew where he had to go. Considering how he held a secret as big as his entire life, being a part of a gang where he could be easily exposed was not one of those plans. Meeting Dutch took the life out of him, almost, Dutch seemed intimidating and every glance that the gang leader gave Riley almost made him believe Dutch had figured him out.

“I’ve figured you out, Riley.” Dutch said, interrupting Susan Grimshaw, a kind lady.

Riley’s eyes almost widened, but he had to maintain his composure. He could feel everybody’s eyes on him.

“You’ve got sad eyes, boy,” Dutch said, smirking. “With a lil’ groomin’, you’re gonna be a great gunslinger. No one would expect you to hold a gun, let alone shoot from one!”

Riley wanted to scream, but there was no way he would let Dutch or anyone know he could talk. If he spoke, they would know his secret, and that was something he would avoid with everything he had. Riley shook his head, uninterested to learn, uninterested to be a part of a gang of thieves, desperate for God knows what reason, to not have him be a part of them.

“I believe he ain’t interested in bein’ a part o’ this, Dutch.” Arthur spoke up, suddenly, walking toward them. Riley’s eyes followed the twenty-five year old gruff male, before looking back at Dutch.

“Why not?” Dutch asked, folding his hands.

Riley put his hands in the air. There was very little he could do to communicate, but he would try. He reached for the notebook inside his bag, and started to scribble, surprising both Dutch and Hosea, that he could write.

I don’t want to be a part of you all. I’ll be a burden. I can use guns for my safety, but I am a lousy thief. Please, excuse me.

Hosea read the words aloud and Dutch sighed. He raised his hands in the air, before groaning.

“Well, I ain’t got time for this. Gotta meet Colm o'Driscoll for some...bank information later tonight.”

Riley’s eyes widened a second later, and time seemingly stopped for him. Quickly, Riley reached for Dutch’s sleeve, with wide eyes, shocking the rest of the gang who were ready to murder Riley if he ever so lay a finger on Dutch. A moment later, they realized, that he simply held the man’s hand.

Riley waited, Dutch stared back.

“o’Driscoll?” He repeated, wondering if this was what stopped Riley.

Riley couldn’t believe it. He knew he had heard the name somewhere, and he knew that if this were a turn of events, Riley was simply lucky. If Dutch knew Colm, then he was one step closer to where he had to be.

He once again began to scribble, before turning things around.

Please let me be a part of your group. I will sling guns and watch horses and do anything you ask. All I ask for is a favor in return.

“And what’s that, kid?” Hosea asked, now curious.

Riley’s eyes were now cold. He wrote again, albeit, slowly this time.

I want Colm o’Driscoll’s head.

○

It was a quiet afternoon at the camp. Arthur and John were listening to Dutch read Emerson again, something John found a tad bit boring, but Arthur listening. However, even as Arthur listened to Dutch, he knew the man had something else running in his mind. Something that had happened earlier that morning, which changed everything about the camp or was slowly beginning to.

“Why? What do you want with Colm o’Driscoll?” Hosea asked, shocked.

Riley shook his head and refused to write more. Arthur could see the boy’s hands shake, and a frown sit on his face, however, it seemed strangely odd. Judging from the behavior the boy was displaying, Arthur knew it had something to do with—

“Vengeance?” Dutch said out loud, a slow smirk sitting on his lips.

He didn’t really like Colm all that much, but stayed away from ruining things because things would ultimately get bad for the both of them. With Dutch being wanted now, they couldn’t afford to get more on their plate. And the o’Driscoll boys were trouble.

Riley didn’t nod, but looked down to the ground. His hands clutched the book he was holding and it seemed as if Riley was lot in thought. Arthur felt for the boy a tad bit, but it was sympathy that he needn’t feel in the first place. He could tell the difference—Riley’s death would mean nothing to him; and if his death meant nothing, than even his vengeance meant nothing.

“Alright, boy. Listen. If you want us to help ya, you’ll have to give us more than wanting Colm o’Driscoll’s head.”

Riley looked at Hosea as he said that and began to write again.

He’s got a debt he never paid back.

“With you?” Dutch laughed, patting the boy’s shoulder.

Riley nodded, unblinking. There was something different now about him, Arthur could tell. It was almost as if Riley seemed uncaring to everyone around him. His eyes and body language turned cold, despite him looking like he needed to grow up.

“He done somethin’ bad to ya, boy?” Arthur asked this time and Riley wrote again.

Terrible.

Arthur could tell that this was enough for Dutch. There was an idea looming in the man’s head, his eyes sparkled the same way it sparkled before Dutch wanted to rob that bank a year ago. Something wasn’t right, something is going to awry, Arthur couldn’t put his finger on it, but he trusted Dutch. Dutch would never do something crazy and jeopardise the lives of those in the camp.

“Don’t get any o’us killed, ya got that?” Arthur said, almost as if he snapped, and walked away.

What he didn’t see at that second was Riley frowning a tad bit more than he already was.

“Dutch…” Arthur spoke up, suddenly, breaking his reading.

Dutch looked at Arthur and blinked. “Somethin’ wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur sighed, “I don’ get no good feelin’ from that Riley boy.”

Dutch sighed in retaliation, “Listen, Arthur, there’s somethin’ about that kid that I think we can use. It’s making use of potential, son. Don’t you agree, John?”

Dutch was starting to involve John in almost everything now and it didn’t sit easy with Arthur.

“I think he looks funny,” John said, “He looks almost like a girl.”

Arthur chuckled and ruffled the boy’s head, “You’re goin’ blind, Marston.”

John grumbled.

“Listen, Arthur,” Dutch said this time, voice more sullen that the last time, “There’s something about his eyes that spoke to me more than that notebook o’ his,” Arthur didn’t understand. “There’s so much pain in his eyes, son. Almost as if it’s stoppin’ him from living.”

Arthur remembered the last time Dutch had said something similar.

“You’ve got to understand, Arthur. You, of all people, you.” Dutch said.

Dutch had said the same about Arthur himself.

○

Riley got a small run down tent to stay in. He had no horse yet, which meant that he had to buy one, but considering how little money he had, he knew he had to wait. He felt handicapped, but that wouldn’t stop him from knowing he was heading toward where he had to go.

Colm o’Driscoll, he thought before opening a particular page in his book. There, he had names written in an order. The third name was Colm’s and the first two were Horace and Dalton Newcomb. There were a total of seven names, which meant seven times he would have to extract vengeance. Riley then shared at his palm, thinking of the last time it had slipped his fingers. He could have killed Colm that night, but he chose not to. He cursed his mind, he cursed that he felt terrible—Colm had after all, saved his life, but was instead a menace.

“I promise ya’ kid. I’ll save yer brother.” Colm had once said.

“False promises,” (y/n) (l/n) uttered, closing the book and keeping it back in her bag.

All of this, she thought as fresh tears filled her eyes. All of this torture for him, she thought, closing her bag and touching her chest. She felt the bruises. And, the tightness of the bandages suddenly made her breathless. To hide who I am, she thought before running her fingers across the rim of the bandage. She had tied it around her torso to push back her breasts, from people not figuring out that she was a woman.

Being a woman in a time like this was difficult. She would end up as Mrs. Grimshaw, nice and kind and lovely, but Mrs. Grimshaw wouldn’t be allowed to extract vengeance. She would ask someone else, and (y/n) had no mind for that. She wanted to control death, which she understood abandoned her when she needed it—instead, she made a pact with vengeance for something no one else but her can do. If she had to hide her identity, then so be it.

She would kill Colm o’Driscoll and then she would kill Horace and Dalton.

She would kill them all for slaughtering her parents and murdering her brother.

I’m sorry I took your name, baby brother, she thought, wiping the tears away. But, I will not let your death be in vain. You died for me that night, and I will end those responsible.

(y/n) (l/n) was barely alive. Vengeance kept her breathing.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 online #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption spoilers #red dead fandom

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lucacangettathisass · 5 years

Text

How The Light Gets In (ch. 4)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be tagged in future chapters please lmk!

NOTES: yikes so....this one took a while! yeah i’ve just been busy with work and playing red dead and junk. speaking of i’m aware i’ve done stuff out of order but listen. listen. i got no excuse. likes are welcomed but reblogs are most appreciated! be sure to support fic writers by spreading their work!

As you sat with the other ladies and Jack around the fire, you were all joined by a slim, older man with round glasses and a heavy coat. “I hope you all don’t mind.” He said, with a distinctly European accent. “The Reverend has been trying my patience.”

“Of course Herr Strauss.” Miss Grimshaw looked over at you and Sadie. “This is Leopold Strauss, he does the bookkeeping.”

You regarded the man curiously. “Are you from Germany Herr Strauss?”

Mr Strauss looked at you with a raised brow. “Vienna.”

You smiled brightly. “I’ve heard wonderful things about Vienna.” You said. “How long have you been in America?”

“Since 1863.” He replied, warming his hands. “Where did you hear about Vienna?”

“My mother worked for a Russian widow who spent a lot of her time in Vienna.” You explained. “She always spoke very highly of the city.”

Mr Strauss nodded slowly, regarding you with curiosity. “Do you speak German?”

Your smile grew wider. “Fließend.” You replied, with some pride. “Die Witwe hat es mir beigerbracht.”

That made Mr Strauss smile, while everyone else looked between the two of you in confusion. “She said that the widow taught her how to speak German.” He explained to everyone. “It’ll be nice to speak German with someone who can actually understand.”

You laughed lightly. “I’m sure, although it’s been a while since I had ample opportunity to speak it, so I may not be perfect.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

You laughed again, and to your delight saw Mr Strauss smile wider.

“Some old widow taught you German?” Miss Jones seemed rather intrigued.

“She taught me a lot of things.” You replied. “I owe her a great deal.” You crossed yourself out of habit, silently praying that her soul was resting as peacefully as she deserved. “She died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Mr Strauss said. “She clearly meant a lot to you.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind to say so.” You said. Now that you were able to think more clearly, you saw that you had to try and get as many of the gang members on your side as possible as long as you and Sadie were with them. The more they liked you both, the easier it would be. Thankfully if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was charm people. “You mentioned a Reverend?”

“A former Reverend.” Miss Grimshaw said. “He ain’t much of one these days.”

That made you frown. As a child you went to church often, and you had always admired those that had chosen to spend the rest of their lives walking with the Lord, so to hear of one falling from grace hurt you, as ridiculous as that sounded. But it also intrigued you to know that a band of outlaws had a Reverend of all things with them.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You said quietly, and your fingers twitched, momentarily going for your prayer rope before you remembered that it was lost, along with just about everything else you had ever called yours. “So, who else do you have with you all?”

Miss Grimshaw told you of the other members you had yet to meet; Dutch’s lover Molly O’Shea, a disgraced soldier called Bill Williamson, the former revolutionary fighter Javier Escuella, young Lenny Summers whom Miss Grimshaw praised for his intellect, the lost and troublesome Irishman Sean Macguire who was hopefully with the equally troublesome and twice as brash Mac Callander, and an old man known simply as Uncle.

“Uncle?” You furrowed your brow. “Has he never given you all a proper name?”

“Nope.” Miss Jackson spoke up as she prodded the fire to keep it alive. “We’ve all asked, but he’s never given a straight answer.”

That left you flummoxed. You could understand one not wanting to give their real identity if they were an outlaw, but surely they would provide a proper name, rather than just ‘Uncle’. It made you wonder what kind of life ‘Uncle’ had lead. And trying to figure out how exactly you would address him as you would no doubt have to some time soon.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Miss Roberts clinging onto Jack as he sat in her lap, whispering into his ear. You watched them for a bit, feeling your heart ache for the little boy. “What do you like to do Jack?” You smiled kindly at him, trying to put him more at ease.

Jack shrugged, avoiding looking at you. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do Jack.” Miss Roberts said. She looked up at you. “He loves to read.”

You instantly perked up, smiling wider. “What do you like to read?”

Jack glanced up at you before shyly looking away again. “Fairy tales.” He said. “Uncle Hosea likes to read to me too.”

You nodded, touched and surprised at the idea of Mr Matthews doing something so...well, normal. It never occurred to you that people like this, outlaws and criminals, could be so domestic. “Do you read with your father?”

There was a sudden silence, and you felt a sharp rise of tension in the atmosphere, which in turn made you tense and anxious.

“His father ain’t really the readin’ type.” Miss Roberts said bitterly. “Not much of a fatherin’ type at all really.”

You felt your heart sink and you looked back down at Jack, who was frowning at the floor. “I’m very sorry to hear that Miss Roberts.” You said sincerely.

She shrugged. “It’s fine, the others around here help, particularly Arthur.”

That made you smile a little. “That’s good to hear, a boy needs a strong man in his life.” You looked back at Jack and leaned in closer to him. “So, what have you been reading lately?”

With some encouragement from his mother, Jack opened up and you found him to be a very chatty, and adorably precocious child. He talked animatedly about the stories of kings and knights of round tables he read with Mr Matthews, and of the games he made up and would play, either with others or by himself. As he spoke, you got the feeling that he felt rather lonely at times, even though he was surrounded by people who cared for him. Rather notably, he said very little about his father, and that made you feel for the boy. There was Mr Matthews and Mr Morgan, but you knew that nothing could truly replace a father.

All of a sudden, the low thunder of hooves cut through the conversations, making you all turn your heads. You jumped to your feet, wrapping the coat Miss Jones had given you around yourself as tight as you could. “I’m going to make sure the men are alright and that Gladys behaved herself.” You said, going to the door.

“I’m coming with you.”

You turned and looked at Sadie quizzically. “I’ll be right outside Sadie, not that far.”

“I’m coming anyway.” She looked and sounded stern, and you knew better than to try and argue this further.

The wind had died down somewhat from earlier, but the snow was still heavy and the cold still biting. As you and Sadie trudged through the snow towards the men, and you quickly noticed that Gladys and Mr Morgan weren’t among them.

“Gladys?” You looked around, thinking that maybe you had simply missed the two of them.

“Your horse is fine.” One of the men said as he approached you. He was darker than the others, but not as much as Mr Smith, and had a very finely groomed moustache and fashionable hat. In fact, he appeared to be the most well groomed of the men you had seen thus far. “We spotted another O’Driscoll on our way back and Arthur went after him.”

“Oh, that’s good to know.” You let out a sigh of relief. “Are the rest of you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.” The man replied, hitching his horse to the post.

“Did you kill all them bastards?”

You stared at Sadie, more than a little startled at her question. The rage in her eyes and the growling ferocity in her voice shocked you, and made you deeply uneasy.

The man seemed to be just as surprised, although you imagined it was far more jarring for him, as he didn’t know her at all. His eyes flicked over to you before going back to Sadie. “As many as we could.”

“Good.”

You felt goosebumps rise over every inch of your body in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Sadie, are you-”

The heavy sound of hooves interrupted you, and you turned to see Gladys galloping into view, Mr Morgan on her back, and something stowed on her rear. Something that couldn’t stop struggling.

“What you got for us Arthur?” Mr Van Der Linde waded through the thick snow to Mr Morgan, and you stepped aside to allow him more room, noting the look of subdued glee on his face.

“An O’Driscoll.” Mr Morgan walked around behind Gladys and you saw that the something stowed on Gladys was, in fact, a someone. A young man, with scraggly facial hair and wide, terrified eyes. He didn’t seem like the O’Driscolls that had invaded the house and killed Jake. He was far too jittery, and you felt a little sorry for him. “Kieran Duffy.”

You saw that Mr Morgan had a look on his face that was similar to Mr Van Der Linde’s, appearing to be entirely too pleased with having a man captive. You didn’t enjoy it.

Mr Morgan tried to remove Kieran Duffy from Gladys, but she stepped aside, resulting in Mr Morgan stumbling forward slightly, his hands grasping at air.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Sadie smirking.

“Careful there Morgan.” Mr Bell’s voice called out, sounding just as amused as Sadie appeared to be.

“Gladys.” You said in a warning tone.

That appeared to be enough, as while Gladys did huff, she didn’t move again when Mr Morgan removed Kieran Duffy and cut him free, forcing him to stand before Mr Van Der Linde.

While Mr Van Der Linde spoke to Kieran Duffy, mentioning something about “feeding people as needs feeding” that didn’t sit right with you, you went to Gladys, leading her back to the hitching post and tying her reins to it securely.

“You need to be nicer to these people.” You told her in a low voice. “They’re treating us well.”

Gladys only huffed, apparently uninterested in your concerns.

At the sound of crunching snow, you turned your head, and saw Mr Morgan approach you. Gladys huffed again, harder this time, and snorted, kicking at the snow. She was clearly agitated, but you couldn’t understand why. “Sorry about that earlier.” You said sheepishly, gently stroking Gladys’s face in an attempt to calm her.

Mr Morgan shrugged, and his eyes went to Gladys, seemingly amused. “It’s fine.” He attempted to approach Gladys, but she stepped aside, at least as much as she could while being securely hitched. Mr Morgan furrowed his brow slightly, but shrugged. “She’s fast.” He said approvingly.

You smiled, a sense of pride filling you. “She’s full of surprises.” You added, turning back to Gladys to stroke her face again. “Even if she does have an attitude.”

Gladys flattened her ears against her head and snorted, turning her head away in an offended manner.

Mr Morgan chuckled deeply, his eyes traveling over to you.

It was the first time you were able to get a good look at him, or at least as good of a look as you could get while he was bundled up. He was tall and broad, not as much as Mr Smith but still impressive, unkempt facial hair, and you could just make out hair that seemed to be stuck between a particularly dirty blond and light brown. But what caught your attention the most were his eyes. They were a clear, sharp blue, like a summer sky. The kind of blue that almost seemed fake, and only got more so the longer you looked.

There wasn’t much else you could concretely make out, but there was no mistaking that what you saw was very handsome.

You felt your cheeks flush and immediately turned back to Gladys. You were actually glad it was so cold, it gave a natural explanation for the shiver that went down your spine.

“You’ve got yourself a fine animal there Miss.”

His voice was deep and had a distinctive drawl, the kind that was oddly endearing.

“Thank you.” It came out as a whisper, and you felt your face heat up even more.

“[Name]!”

You turned and looked at Sadie, having somehow completely forgotten she was there, and saw that she was frowning. “Let’s get back inside.”

“Alright Sadie.” You turned to back to Mr Morgan to say goodbye, but he was already trudging away to another house, probably the one that he had taken residence in for his stay here.

You frowned, but were unsurprised. After all, since when did men like Mr Morgan waste their time with girls like you?

“[Name]!”

“I’m coming!”

#john marston x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfic #rdr fic #red dead redemption 2 fic #fic: how the light gets in

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victoodles · 5 years

Text

Nicknames and Late Night Dances

Hey! It’s my first RDR2 story! I’m working on more but I hope you like this one. I don’t know how this works but if you like my work and wanna send me requests, I’m down for pretty much everything. Xoxo gossip girl! Find it here on AO3

Warnings: Nada :)

The gang’s hoots and hollers could be heard from Valentine all the way to Saint Denis. A celebration with no rhyme or reason, but still just as spirited. With the uncertainty that there would ever be a sunrise to come, everyone partied as if heaven’s gates would be waiting for them bright and early the following morn.

Drinks were plentiful as generous portions of booze were passed from one hand to the next; leave no cup high and dry. Arthur nursed his beer slowly as he observed his ragtag family, mentally preparing for the shenanigans that would soon follow-the ever dutiful guardian.

Everyone was up to something, rambunctious as always. Sean made pitiful, lecherous passes to a drunk Karen, who responded in kind due to her excessive inebriation. Dutch was sitting with Molly, a familiar grip on her thigh as they sipped on finer liquor together; Miss O’Shea was too highbrow for whatever the commoners drank. Lenny and Hosea recklessly played “five-finger fillet”, which to no one's surprise, ended with sliced hands and hearty laughs at their blatant stupidity.

Javier sat by the fire, casually playing his guitar as people sang-some slurring-dirty songs in tandem with his strumming. Amongst the jovial crowd was you, cheeks pink from one drink too many and your voice louder and prouder than the rest.

Color Arthur surprised that a usually dignified lady such as yourself was bellowing filthy tunes with the likes of Uncle and Swanson. He quickly found a familiar tint adorning his cheeks, similar to yours, and he couldn’t pin the blame on the alcohol this time around.

Arthur was constantly enamored by you but seeing you like this, unrestricted by the commonalities of a society you had long abandoned, he found you even more captivating than before. With a lopsided grin and the fire casting delicate shadows upon the contours of your face, Arthur committed the image to memory so he could immortalize it in his journal later that night.

He hadn’t even realized he was starring, something he was usually hyper aware of, but with the flames emitting such an enchanting glow that continued to envelope you, he felt himself spellbound.

As if starlight had come to life, was the first thought that came to mind; he mentally reprimanded himself for sounding like such a lovestruck fool. Although despite that, he found no shame in admitting to himself that all those pretty poems you and Mary-Beth tittered about could never hold a candle to your beauty.

Too lost in his own head, Arthur hadn’t realized that you had looked up to meet his lingering gaze. Now exposed, heat quickly crept up the back of his neck as your smile widened and you proceeded to eagerly wave him over to the campfire. His feet acted before his mind could catch up and he started in your direction, not before taking an excessive swig of his drink in a sad attempt to calm his nerves.

While Arthur lacked the liquid courage, you on the other hand had enough of it for the both of you. The whiskey you’d been sampling had sent a warmth blooming through your entire body, weakening the shyness that usually reared its ugly head around Arthur. You were a well-spoken, educated woman but your feelings for a certain Mr. Morgan had reduced you to a blushing, bumbling mess.

“My lady,” Arthur said affectionately and he tipped his hat to you, “everyone,” he acknowledged the rest of the group with considerably less enthusiasm. The men responded in kind, grunting their hellos.

Almost as soon as he arrived, you had hopped up from the log you were perched on to meet Arthur, beaming at him even more now that you were in his presence.

Having your inhibitions assuaged thanks to a healthy dose of Uncle’s personal booze supply, you wrapped your arms snugly around Arthur’s sturdy shoulders, catching the usually stoic outlaw off guard.

“Ar-tie,” you singsonged, rather loudly; you had no idea where this newfound nickname had come from but your drunk alter ego seemed to enjoy throwing all formalities to the wind. Arthur’s eyes widened, his blush clearly visible as he found himself in your warm embrace.

A universal silence fell over the circle, Charles and John trying to contain their snickers as they eagerly awaited for the rest of this sickeningly saccharine scenario to play out.

Arthur sputtered pathetically as he tried to process the entirety of this overwhelming situation that he quickly found himself in.

You were so close to him, a distance he previously would’ve considered improper especially with a lady of your caliber. But now, with alcohol fueling both of your systems, he wasn’t so sure he could bring himself to care.

He could faintly make out the scent of wildflowers in your hair-a mix of lavender and honeysuckle. How could someone who lived amongst criminals and was constantly surrounded by depravity smell so sweet?

Your hypnotic aroma was almost enough to make him forget about your ridiculous shortening of his name-almost.

“Artie?” he asked incredulously. He was a hardened criminal, the secondhand gun and leading enforcer of the Van der Linde gang. A bad man. And here you were, drunk and without a care in the world, calling him something not even Jack had thought to come up with. You pulled back from him, much to his dismay, with a faux-pout pursing your lips.

“Yes, that’s,” you paused to lightly bop him on the nose with your index finger, “you.” The rest of the gang had abandoned any form of subtly as unrepressed chortles could be heard from practically everyone around the campfire.

Little ol’ you was making the infamous Arthur Morgan, a man with a bounty of over five thousand dollars, more flustered than a common schoolgirl. They weren’t naive to his feelings towards you, keeping to themselves lest they want to meet the business end of his wrath. But this was too hysterical to ignore, and they felt safe making jests at Arthur’s expense with you in tow.

“Artie why don’t you sit down with us,” Javier offered cooly, the smirk tugging at the edge of his lips practically giving away his teasing undertones. Arthur was about to retort when he was cut off by Uncle’s loudmouthed interjection.

“Yeah Artie, my boy, you look a lil’ red in the face! Take a load off and enjoy the company of the fine mistress called whiskey,” he whooped, slapping his knee as he keeled over from a fit of laughter due to his own witticism.

Completely oblivious, you laughed alongside the other men as you linked arms with a disgruntled Arthur. He scoffed in response to this incessant mocking, quickly tossing back the rest of his beer to alleviate his rapidly increasing heart rate as you continued to move closer to his side.

Your attention soon diverted from the conversation to Dutch’s gramophone, a gentle melody emitting from it and drifting up to the moon above. Excitement took ahold of your heart and in turn you took ahold of Arthur’s hands, the joy radiating from you almost palpable.

“Artie,” you chirped, earning another wave of sniggers, “dance with me!” It wasn’t so much a request as it was a demand, as you already started tugging him towards the music’s origin.

“D-dance?” he stuttered. He wasn’t known for his charm and grace and yet despite that, you were asking this of him anyway. And who was he to deny you of anything you wanted?

But at the risk of making an even bigger idiot of himself in front of you, he couldn't help but hesitate. You noticed his apprehension and turned towards him, hands on your hips in a stern fashion similar to Abigail before she’s about to scold Jack for misbehaving.

“Yes dance, silly,” you chided, resuming your place around his arm before softening your expression again. “Do you not want to dance with me, Artie?” you said sullenly; the sad look you gave Arthur was irresistible and almost impossible to refuse.

He sighed heavily, shooting daggers at the men ogling the two of you from around the fire and then returning his attention back solely to you, ready to concede to your wishes.

“As my lady commands” he said, ushering you closer to Dutch’s tent by the small of your back-always the gentleman. The two of you stood next to the gramophone, the record idly spinning as it produced a pleasant rhythm.

Arthur extended his hand and you excitedly gave yours in turn, not expecting such a soft kiss from his chapped lips to grace your senses. Your flush was amplified by his chivalry and you bowed your head in response, like a true lady of high society.

His arm found a comfortable place around your waist and the two of you began swaying in an almost perfect tempo to a song unknown to the both of you.

With the entire camp peering at this tender moment between you, the only audience you two acknowledged were the stars twinkling faintly above.

Arthur surprised you with an elegance and poise that could be expected of a Saint Denis socialite, but still making it an experience that was uniquely him. You giggled as Arthur clumsily twirled you around before bringing you back towards him, your chests mere inches apart. He cocked an eyebrow at you in mock accusation at your sudden outburst.

“You are full of surprises, Sir Artie,” to which Arthur let out his own hearty chuckle for the first time that night.

“I’m no sir, my dear lady. Just trying to please.”

“And you are doing a fine job, cowboy,” you purred, putting extra emphasis on your last word and catching his attention for yet another time that same evening. It seemed to be a talent of yours and he had no qualms about your skills. A nickname, so suitable for him, sounded absolutely perfect coming from you.

“No more Artie?” he questioned with a humorous tone, giving you another spin. He was never one for dancing, but with you, it came as simple as breathing. You smiled at him mischievously, daring to lean in closer. He didn’t object.

“I was just teasin’, didn’t mean to make you sweat cus’ of it,” you admitted.

To be perfectly honest, you didn’t take into account the backlash from the rest of the gang that would result from your drunken roguery. But you were tired of letting your lack of confidence get in the way of pursuing a man who you held such a deep level of admiration for. Right now, you had absolutely no regrets about any of your actions.

Arthur laughed again, a lovely yet rare occurrence. “Well no offense taken darlin’, despite those buffoons I’d say this evening ended quite pleasantly.”

With that, he dipped you gracefully as the music gave one last bombastic crescendo before its grand finale. A majority of the gang awarded the two of you with a hearty round of applause, but Arthur paid them no mind.

Gently, he pulled you back to him as you both regained your composure. He looked down at you fondly, brushing strands of hair that came loose during your dance back behind your ear. Even disheveled, you were still a marvel to behold in his eyes.

Your gazes were locked to one another, fingers still intertwined. Arthur, bless his heart, was unsure of how to end this beautifully intimate encounter. He had already taken so many risks tonight, and if said risks weren’t related to some sort of gang heist, then it meant he truly was taking a leap of faith outside of his realm of expertise.

You could practically feel his frantic heartbeat thrumming against your own chest. Feeling bold, a hand found its way up to his neck and you stood on your tiptoes to place a single kiss on his cheek yet dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

As quickly as you gave it, you retreated in hopes of seeing his earnest reaction and you were not disappointed. Almost baffled, his free hand lingered where you had kissed in an attempt to reaffirm he wasn’t dreaming. You placed your hand over his, and gave him a loving smile that almost knocked him off his feet.

“You know where to find me later,” was all you said as you sauntered away, his line of sight following your form as you leisurely strolled back to your tent.

Another moonlight dance was definitely in store.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #reader insert #my first rdr2 reader insert i hope you like #vic's fics!

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zarcake-writes · 5 years

Text

Between Them

Hello everyone! This part is a bit fluffy and sweet. It’s mainly talking, with some mention of ns/fw content.

Part 2

Warnings: fluff, cuddling, mention of sexual content, poly relationship

Horseshoe Overlook is quiet and sleepy. Most of the men are out running scams, robbing people, or looking for good targets for future robberies. Some of the girls went into town earlier, Pearson was kind enough to take them. Those that remain are trying to keep busy or are relaxing. Javier and Bill are on guard duty, I saw them walk by about an hour ago. Uncle’s snores echo throughout the camp, and Dutch is either asleep, reading or coming up with a plan. It’s surprising that his stupid gramophone isn’t playing.

I sit near the edge of the camp, looking out at the river in the distance. The warm sun and the sound of the bird’s flying overhead are calming, yet I struggle to focus on fixing the ripped shirt in my hands. My mind wonders to Charles and Arthur.

It’s been a couple months since the three of us spent those few days in the cabin. Before the cabin incident, the three of us weren’t openly affectionate. I would share quick kisses with Charles when he was on guard duty. I would write little notes to Arthur and slip them into his satchel or hid them beneath his pillow. Arthur and Charles would leave small trinkets or little letters for me in my tent. No one in camp knew about our relationship, and no one needed to know.

However, after arriving back from the cabin, both Arthur and Charles has been open and obvious with their affections. It started with Charles sitting near me and offering me his hand to help me up. Arthur would then give me little gifts in front of everyone. Both men would compliment me and offer to help me with anything. And one night, both men gave me a soft kiss on my lips in the middle of the camp. They weren’t trying to be secretive, so someone was bound to see us and start talking.

It was the next morning, while we were drinking coffee together, that the three of us were basically cornered and questioned. Arthur wasn’t having any of the questions and told everyone to mind their one business. After that, most people in camp calmed down.

The girls are the most supportive for us. Karen has asked me several times what the sex is like, but I keep my lips shut. Mary-Beth and Tilly thinks it’s romantic having two men respect each other and love me at the same time. Sadie thinks it’s hilarious and keeps asking me how I do it. Abigail asks how it works. She even confessed that she wished she had two people who love her that way. Molly feels the same way. Miss Grimshaw thinks it’s odd, but she makes no comment.

The men though are more varied with their opinions. Micah and Bill were the first to make rude comments. The comments started with them asking if I was available for them too, then they started speaking ill of Charles. Arthur and Charles shut them both up pretty quick. Sean wonders out loud if he’ll find two women who would want to be with him. Javier has nothing to say. He just nods and smiles when he sees the three of us. Lenny and Hosea react in a similar way. Uncle and John often ask how good I am in bed to have two men; Arthur shuts them both up each time they ask. Dutch gives us weird, unreadable looks when he thinks I’m not looking. I’m not sure why or what those looks mean.

I glance down at the white shirt in my hand. It’s one of Arthurs. There’s a slit in the arm and the material is forever stained with blood. He ruined the shirt a week ago in a bar fight. Someone made a comment about Charles and Arthur lost his temper. I wasn’t there, but Charles told me about it afterward while Arthur took his anger out on several pieces of wood.

Both of them have been gone for about four days on a hunting trip. They wanted to take me with them, but I was needed here at camp. Hosea needed help with a scam he was planning, so I offered my services to the man. But the planning went by quicker than we both expected, so I’ve been trying to keep busy around camp.

Despite how much I wanted to go with Arthur and Charles, I’m glad both men are spending time together. They’ve always been friendly, even before the three of us got together. But since the cabin, both men seem closer. When they sit around the campfire in the evenings, their knees are always touching. When we are somewhere private, and away from prying eyes, Arthur brushes Charles’ hair from his face. Charles has even helped Arthur trim and shave his beard a few times. One night, I even caught both men wrapped together in Arthur’s cot. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

I wonder if Charles and Arthur are closer because of the cabin. Maybe the three of us being close and in such an intimate situation sparked something. Or maybe it’s because of how Charles touched Arthur. That memory sends a chill down my spine and my lower stomach tingles. I wonder if they would be comfortable touching each other while I sit on the side and watch. Would they do more?

The sound of voices and horses entering the camp shake me from the beginning of my fantasy. Looking behind me, I see Arthur and Charles are back. Their mounts are carrying plenty of food and furs for the camp.

I leave my sewing on the table next to Arthur’s cot and approach both men. They look exhausted and are covered in dirt. After they leave the food and other supplies near Pearson’s wagon, they turn around. When they see me, both men light up and look happier.

Charles approaches me first. He grabs my hands and lifts them to his lips. The kisses he leaves on my knuckles are soft and warm. Charles smiles at my giggle and said, “I’ve missed you. We both have.”

“I’ve missed the both of you as well,” I said.

Arthur steps forward next. He looks nervous but gives me a quick peck on my cheek. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Arthur. You two are filthy. Want to head into town and get a bath? I’ll bathe you two,” I tease.

“Before we do that, we need to talk to you,” Arthur said. He shares a look with Charles, who suddenly looks nervous.

I nod and let them lead me to Arthur’s sleeping space. Arthur drops the side of his tent flaps so that we have some privacy. Arthur motions for me to sit. Charles sits next to me first, then Arthur takes a seat on my other side.

Both men are silent for a moment. The nervous tension in the air makes my heart pound and my skin crawl.

“So, what do you both need to talk to me about?”

Arthur lets out a heavy breath before he speaks. “We don’t want to keep anything from you. So, we thought we should tell you. While Charles and I were out, we shared the tent. And we were talking about that night in the cabin and we… we um…”

“Arthur?” I asked.

“We did stuff,” Arthur coughs out. His face flushes and he’s giving me a nervous look. I glance at Charles who also looks nervous and slightly embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, do you two regret it?”

“I don’t. I… I enjoyed Arthur’s touch,” Charles said. His voice is low and soft.

“I don’t regret it either,” Arthur said.

“Well, that’s good. Is that all you wanted to tell me?” I asked.

“Yes,” Charles said.

Arthur still looks nervous and scared. “You’re not mad, or disgusted?”

“No, of course not. Did you think I would be?” I asked.

“We were worried, yes,” Charles said. Arthur nods and looks away.

I take both their hands and look between them as I speak. “I love you, the both of you. And I’m so happy you both enjoy spending time together. I didn’t think you two would be that intimate, but I’m happy for you two.”

“I never thought of men in such a way,” Charles confessed. “But after that night in the cabin, I’ve been thinking of Arthur.”

“I’ve been with a man before Charles. I was young and it didn’t end well. Bunch of people scared us and we stopped seeing each other. But it’s nice being with Charles, and it’s nice being with you, sweetheart,” Arthur said.

“We want you to know, that we both love you greatly. I enjoy being with Arthur and you,” Charles said.

I smile and kiss both men on their cheeks. “I’m glad. And I enjoy being with you two as well.”

Arthur rests his head against my shoulder and I play with the ends of his hair. I lay my head against Charles’s shoulder and his head rests against mine. Charles hold my right hand in both of his hands. Arthur’s hand rests against my thigh; his thumb moves in a slow circle over my pants legs.

Despite how soothing the moment is, both men stink of sweat and dust. And as much as I love them, I love when they’re clean.

“Alright, you two smell. Why don’t we go into town, get a bath, and spend the night there?” I said.

Arthur laughs and sits up. “Sounds good to me. What do you say, Charles?”

“I say let’s go. Will you bathe us?” Charles question is addressed to me.

“Well, who else will?”

“The bath girls?” Arthur teases.

“You would rather have a stranger bathe you, instead of me?” I scoffed.

Arthur laughs and shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I want you to bathe me and touch me.”

“That’s what I thought. Come on, let’s go. The last three nights have been lonely and I’ve missed my strong men.”

Later that night, the three of us are laying in a hotel bed together. I’m on my back in the middle of the bed, Charles and Arthur are on either side of me. Charles' head rests against my stomach, while Arthur’s head rests against my chest. My hands rest on their heads, and my fingers play with their hair.

Both men are clean and warm. The soap we used earlier lingers on our skin and in the air. It’s not the sweetest of smells, but it smells better than sweat and dirt. Arthur’s short hair dried quickly and is now fluffy. Charles’s hair is still damp, but he let me braid it before bed. My hair is damp as well, Charles was kind enough to brush it out and braid it for me. Arthur watched and expressed an interest in learning how to braid our hair.

Both men are asleep, exhaustion hit them hard after the bath. Their breathing is slow and heavy, occasionally their fingers or face twitch as they sleep. The warmth from their bodies and the steady sound of their soft snores begin to lull me to sleep. I can feel my eyes grow heavy, and I don’t fight. Between Charles and Arthur, I’m safe, warm, and loved.

#arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #charthur x reader #poly!charthur x reader #poly!charthur #charthur #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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angelarthurmorgan · 5 years

Text

❛ protector | when you’re taken for months at a time, things change. but there’s only one man that you can trust.

❛ warnings: physical fight, blood

❛ genre: angst, fluff

❛ word count: 2.6k

You were a girl who could handle herself, somebody that wasn’t afraid to be independent. You had many positive aspects of your personality, and many admired those traits; you were strong-willed, bold, independent, confident, and always prepared for the worst.

But, every human-being has their positive and negative traits. Even though you were somebody many others looked up to or tried to be, you had traits that made you not so good. Hot-headed, jumping into things without thinking things through, you sometimes cared too deeply for the wrong people.

Although you acted as if you didn’t need anybody to lean on, Arthur Morgan could see right through it. He understood that you wanted to do things alone and prove your own worth, and he let you, but he was always there to step in when you overstepped your boundaries. Most of the time, you would throw fits and spew insults and curses right his way, saying that he didn’t trust you enough to be alone and do things on your own, but deep down the both of you knew it was for your safety.

That was something you despised about yourself; you’d get frustrated and beyond pissed when people tried to protect you and keep you out of harm’s way. The self-hate you had for yourself only grew stronger when you realized you had adapted the trait of not being able to trust anybody anymore, not even the men and women you had called a family. It was hard to speak to them, even to look in their direction as it only triggered harsh moments you didn’t want to relive.

You tried not to dwell on the past and what had happened to you, but sometimes it was hard not to at least think about it, especially since every damn time you saw one of your gang members it just flooded back into your head. It was tough on you, it was tough on everybody else and especially Arthur.

A part of you thought that Arthur carried the guilt ten times more than the others carried. After you had been taken and had been gone for around a month, he must’ve felt partly responsible, even though it truly wasn’t his fault. You never blamed him for the position you were put in, maybe the others slightly, but you could never bring yourself to put anything on Arthur. You knew he was struggling with his own past, and struggling to even get through what was happening currently, and he only continued to carry every bad thing that had happened to him on his back. Arthur wasn’t and isn’t the type of man to just let those type of things go, and you knew he blamed himself for all of it.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the body length mirror in front of you, tears welling in your eyes as you observed your entire appearance. Small scars had been engraved in your rosy cheeks, burn scars were around your wrist and on your stomach, cuts that still hadn’t healed were scattered everywhere on your skin. The bruises had faded, but you could only imagine the blue-purple marks as you stared at yourself. It was hard for you to let go, especially when you were reminded of it just by seeing your own skin.

Usually, when you were upset before you disappeared, any of the guys would check up on you. John, when he truly felt the need to, he’d approach you and do his best to be as kind as possible when confronting you but it was difficult for him, but you appreciated it and talked to him sometimes. Javier, someone you had bonded with when you had spare time in camp; you always sang songs with him, attempted to play the guitar which always ended in laughs and giggles, you even tried to learn a few phrases in Spanish just to get closer to him. He’d usually know when something was up, so he’d do his best to comfort you. Lenny, the boy that was like your younger brother, someone who knew exactly when you were having a bad day and he would always talk to you and try to brighten it with jokes or drinks, always a fun person to spend your time with. Dutch, someone who didn’t think much of your state until he realized deep down that everything wasn’t alright, and being the fatherly figure he was he would question you, trying to be as gentle and sweet as possible as you were like one of his daughters. Hosea, who was similar to Dutch in a sense, but noticed it much more quickly and would approach the situation much more gentle and caring, using his wiseness to help you out through whatever you were struggling with. Charles, he spent some of his spare time with you, the two of you would go hunting together and talk about your past lives, he was always so humble and calm you had grown to admire him. He usually was there for you and would let you know he knows what’s up. Even Uncle and Bill would sometimes converse with you about your issues, and they weren’t quite as helpful, but the support was all the mattered — but now when they even noticed that something was wrong, you’d turn them away, leaving them worried and concerned.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the relationship you had with them, as most of them were like brothers or fathers, but you couldn’t bear to even be in a five-foot radius of them. After what they did to you, you couldn’t possibly forgive them. Some of them, like Dutch and John, didn’t seem to get the message about staying away, and that’s when the only man you trusted had to step in. Once you had told Arthur only a little of your story, he made a vow to himself that he’d protect you. He was protective before, but now if one little thing triggered you in a bad way he would be right there to get whatever it was away and spend the rest of his time with you until he made sure you were okay.

Loud yelling could be heard outside your cot in the camp, and you couldn’t help but listen in on it. Acting as if you weren’t eavesdropping, you crawled into your bed and buried yourself in the covers, pretending you were sleeping. It would be believable since all you did was lay in your bed when you didn’t want to deal with any of the camp members, especially since mentally you weren’t strong enough to even leave the camp.

“She really has the audacity to ignore us? It’s not like she can do it for fucking ever! Shit happens, that’s what happens when you run with a god damned gang with people constantly up your ass. We’re always there for each other, she needs to be there for us as well. Whether it be hunting, donating camp funds, whatever the case.”

That voice belonged to no one other than a hot-headed John Marston, who must’ve been angry about a whole ordeal, and seeing you must’ve frustrated him even more greatly.

You narrowed your eyes, clenching your fist and digging your fingernails in the palm of your hand, leaving some deeper marks than you wanted. Anger engulfed your whole being as you hopped right out of the bed, stalking over to where John was standing. Many other members observed from afar, knowing not to get between something so heated. You felt your chest grow heavy as you looked John directly in the eyes for the first time in forever; your intense stare could’ve burnt a hole right between his eyes. Without even exchanging any words, your fist flew right to his face as he stumbled backward in shock. You took this opportunity to leap at him before straddling him and holding him down, your fist meeting his face repeatedly as you punched with all your strength. “You fucking left me to die! You fucking deserve this, all of you fucking deserve this.”

In a matter of seconds, you felt someone roughly grab you by your shoulders, ripping you off of John instantly. “(Name), calm down and breathe. Look what you did.” It was a familiar voice, a voice you knew all too well; it was Arthur’s and you couldn’t help but listen to him. Hesitantly, you rose to your feet and there it was. There you saw his bloodied face, scratches and bruises on the right side of his face. Once you saw the aftermath, you couldn’t help but feel regret and sorry, but you refused to show that you cared for somebody that didn’t give two shits about you.

Arthur leaned close to your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think it’s best ya go to your cot, I’ll take it from here, alright?”

You gulped. Half of you wanted to protest, argue that you had the right to fuck John up, he had it coming when he felt the need to badmouth you to the entire camp. Yet, the other half of you wanted to give into Arthur’s request, not only because you trusted him but because you were slowly falling in love with the only person that actually gave a damn. You turned heel and slowly walked back to your camp, but not without shooting a few dirty looks in John’s direction. Fucking asshole.

An angry Arthur was something nobody wanted to deal with, but now everybody was paying the consequences after the stunt both you and John had pulled. Arthur stalked over towards John and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him onto his feet, their eyes both narrowed. “I don’t know what the hell was going through your damned head, those wolves ate all of your god damn brains and common sense. You left her when she needed ya the most, you all left her when she needed ya most.”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently if you were in the situation like the rest of us were. Maybe you should have been there, Arthur.”

Arthur held back the urge to punch John square in the jaw when he was in such a vulnerable position. It would’ve felt so nice, teaching him some type of lesson, but he didn’t. “You damn well I’d risk my life for that girl, unlike you cowards. I’d protect her with everything I had. I’d be the men you couldn’t and can’t be. Hell, you probably wouldn’t even save Abigail and your son if your life depended on it.”

John opened his mouth to spit back an insult, a remark, but Arthur quickly cut him off.

“I ain’t gonna fight you, Marston. Just know that none of y’all have any place to say shit, because y’all made her this way and she needs support from her family, not some damned people who are gonna knock her down a couple more pegs when she’s already low enough. If y’all ever hurt her again, I promise you there will be consequences.” Arthur threatened, his voice dangerously low as he refrained from lashing out on everybody and John specifically. He dropped John to the dirt ground with no hesitation before leaving the scene, heading towards where you currently were.

Once he entered your small cot, he noticed you were sitting there with your head in your hands. Your right fist was covered in blood, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was John’s or yours. “L-look at me Arthur, I’m a mess. What he said was somewhat true, I’m useless. How am I gonna be in a gang if I can’t even leave the camp, or pick up a gun and shoot a couple guys?”

Arthur hushed you by bringing his finger up to your lips, wiping away a couple tears with the thumb of his opposite hand. “Nothing that came out of that idiot’s mouth is true; he’s just angry and hurt. Just like you are, (Name). You’re like a sister to him, a sister to the rest of ‘em and a daughter to Dutch and Hosea. One day you’ll be able to trust ‘em again, maybe a little, but for now, you have me and you always will.” Arthur stated, trying to make you understand how the rest of the gang felt.

With nothing else to say, you curled up next to Arthur, resting your head in his lap while he played with your (hair color) locks as a way to calm you and keep himself occupied.

The room was quiet for a while until your hoarse voice broke the silence. “Arthur, I trust you with my whole entire being, I hope ya know that. I mean it.”

Once Arthur processed this information, he only felt guilty. Everyone knew that he beat himself up about his past and about himself, and this was no exception. He was a bad man, he knew it, you knew it, the whole United States knew it and he hated it, and that’s why he felt that this was wrong. “I’m a bad man, (Name). You shouldn’t trust me with nothin’, and you shouldn’t trust me with such a thing, ‘cause if I lose ya it’s gon’ be my fault and I ain’t trying to deal with losin’ somebody I care about again.”

A frown adorned your features as you looked up into his emerald green eyes. You brought your hands up and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to stare straight at you. “When are you gon’ learn that you ain't-a bad man? That you’re just tryin’ to survive, and get through this life and get this country back to what it was ‘sposed to be? Maybe them lawmen think you’re a bad man, but you sure as hell ain’t to me. Look what you just did for me out there, just to protect me and make sure they knew that it wasn’t my fault I’m this way and that is was theirs. I can’t even explain how much of a good man you are to me Arthur, and everyone that doesn’t think so is blind.”

“That’s the most I’ve heard ya say in weeks.” Arthur chuckled, lightening the mood and you shoved him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Thank ya, (Name).” he whispered softly.

“Of course,” you responded before returning back to your previous position, cuddled up with Arthur on your bed.

One day, you would be able to leave this camp and return back to your daily duties. One day, you’d also be able to walk up those who betrayed and look them right in the eyes and smile. One day, you could prove those who thought you were weak wrong. And one day, you would surely get back at those who did those dirty disgusting things to you, but for now, you had somebody to loved and cared for you; and that’s all you needed to get back up on your feet.

Arthur Morgan’s love for you kept you going, kept pushing you forward and you were forever grateful. Even though the two of you had your negatives and issues with each other, you would always come back to him because he’s the reason you were a semi-functioning member of society currently.

Words couldn’t explain your thanks, but you knew he knew, and that was enough for you. All you needed was Arthur Morgan.

That’s all you needed and would ever need.

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