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#miss grimshaw
hihomeghere · 2 months
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Fakin' it | Arthur Morgan/Reader
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Word Count : 3k Summary : After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? Warnings/Tags : Enemies to lovers <3, unprotected piv sex, guns, cursing, reader has female gentailia, fingering, one bed, fake marriage
Of course the job that went bad had to be with Arthur. Why Dutch had put you two together was beyond you. Everyone around the gang knew that it was volatile anytime you two were together. But, you were cunning, quick minded in a pinch. Arthur was strong, easily able to take down a man twice his size, not that someone of that caliber came along often. To put it simply, you were the brains, he was the brawn. As much as you hated to admit, you made a good team on jobs. This time however, a simple robbery had turned into dozens of O’driscolls around every corner. You two had barely made it into a hotel unscathed. 
“One room.” Arthur said, setting down some coins on the table top as you watched the door. Your hand resting against your gun in your dress pocket.
“Name?” The man asked with a smile.
“Callahan.” Arthur said looking back at you. “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.” He said, turning back to the clerk. You heard footsteps outside of the hotel, you turned quickly grabbing Arthur’s arm.
“Sweetheart.” You cooed, internally cringing as you called him by that name. You looked at him with wide eyes, “Come on.” You said with a nervous smile.
“We’re newlyweds, a bit excited if you can’t tell.” He chuckled, turning back to the clerk, his arm wrapping around your waist.
“Of course.” The clerk said with a knowing smile, you wanted to barf as Arthur squeezed your waist. “Up the stairs to the left.” He said, handing Arthur a key.
“Much appreciated.” Arthur said his hand on the small of your back as you two climbed the stairs. As soon as you turned the corner you nearly ran to the door, Arthur slid the key in the lock and turned it, ushering you inside. As soon as the door was closed behind you, he was locking it just as fast. 
Once you got in the room you moved away from Arthur’s side, letting out a sigh as you looked around the room. One bed, of course, you two were acting as a couple.
“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at Arthur. 
“Less eyes on us if we’re a couple, not cause I wanna play house with you.” He said with a grunt, barely raising his head to look at you. He walked over to the bed, moving to take his boots off.
“Less eyes.” You scoffed, looking around the room, walking over to the window. You pulled the blinds back, peeking out to the streets below. 
“The hell you think you're doing?” Arthur hissed, his hand wrapping around your wrist.
“Looking.” You said glaring up at him. “Is that a crime?”
“Do you want to give away our position?” He growled, his eyes dark.
“I think it’s pretty damn clear we’re in one of these shops, now we have to wait it out until they’re gone.” You said pulling away your arm from his grasp. He let out a deep breath, his jaw clenched as he looked away from you.
“How many are out there?” He asked, holding his hat as he ran a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know, maybe a dozen?” You said crossing your arms.
“Dutch said to keep a low profile,” He muttered to himself, “We can’t go out there guns blazing.” He said, setting his hat down on the bedside table. 
“That’s obvious.” You said, shaking your head. He scoffed, looking up at you.
“Are you trying to piss me off, or is that just one of your special talents?” Arthur said glaring at you.
“Oh I have lots of talents.” You say, stepping closer a scowl on your face. 
“If only one of them was keeping your mouth shut.” He growled. 
“God, what is your problem?” You huff looking away from him.
“My problem?” He scoffs getting up from the bed. “You’re my problem." He said, his chest almost touching yours as you looked up at him.
“Feelings mutual.” You huff, glaring up at him. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as you walked away from him. 
“We’re gonna have to wait it out.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“The hell are we gonna do?” You asked throwing your hands up. 
“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna take advantage of this bed.” He said laying back down on the bed, placing his hat over his face. You bit your cheek looking at him as he crossed his legs. He did have a point, the bed looked a whole lot softer than your cot back at camp. You mulled it over for a second before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You unlaced your boots, laying back on the bed. Your eyes quickly drew heavy, the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off. 
The sun was setting when you woke up, the light slowly disappearing behind the horizon. The room was quiet except for Arthur’s breathing. You sat up in bed, looking over at him. His hat had fallen off his face when he rolled over sometime during his sleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept, it was like seeing a completely different side of him. It’s at this moment you really appreciate how beautiful Arthur truly is. The bridge of his nose is high, broken one too many times. His plump lips parted slightly, like two petals. His sandy brown hair falling over his forehead. 
You wanted to reach out and move it out of his face, but thought better of it. You didn’t want to disturb him and it wasn’t often that you saw him without a furrowed brow. 
Just as you were laying back down you heard heavy footsteps up the stairs. By your guess, four, maybe five men. You sit up quietly, feeling your heart pound against your rib cage. Arthur sprang up in bed as soon as they kicked open the first door. They must have turned right when they went up the stairs. The yell of shock sounded farther down the hall. He turned to you, his eyes wide. He reached for his gun belt on the floor but you stopped him. Your brain was running through all the situations. Four or five men, sure you and Arthur could take them, but that’s not exactly a low profile. 
Against your better judgment you picked the solution with the least amount of bloodshed. You swung your leg over Arthur’s waist.
“The hell are you doing-“ Arthur hissed before you covered his mouth with your hand. Your fingers started working on the buttons of your blouse as you rolled your hips forward. Arthur looked up at you with a wide eyed expression, his bright eyes frantically moving between his gun belt on the floor and the door. His stubble lightly scratched your palm as you held your hand over his mouth, his plump lips almost kissing your palm.
You forced a high pitched moan as you moved your hips faster on the bed, the bedframe hitting the wall. Creating the illusion you two were having sex.
The gears slowly started to turn in Arthur’s mind, his hands gripping your hips as he propelled you faster. The bedframe was now rocking against the wall, as you pulled your arms out of your blouse, leaving your chest bare. Your nipples hardened from the cold air as goosebumps sprung up on your skin. Arthur’s eyes were closed as he turned his head, forcing a low groan. Although you knew his groans were fake, the way his body reacted to your touch was more than real. You kept up with your moans, trying to put on a good enough show.
The door was soon forced open, as two O’Driscolls entered  the room with their guns raised. You scream, Arthur is quick to pull your chest down to his. You were pressed tight against him, his warm hands keeping you flush against him, all of him. His work shirt rubs against your nipples in such a fucking delicious way, it doesn’t help tbe adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t see anything, your head buried into Arthur’s neck, his stubble now rubbing against your cheek.
“Get the hell out of here!” Arthur yells, hidden by your upper half.
One of them clears their throat before exiting the room, closing the door behind them. You hold your breath waiting for their footsteps to retreat down the hallway. You let out a sigh of relief as they meet back up with the other men, walking down the stairs.
Hesitantly Arthur moves his hands off your back, you sit up covering your breasts with your arms. Arthur, however, was staring up towards the ceiling. His jaw clenched as he avoided looking at you.
You moved off of his waist, grabbing your blouse before slipping your arms through the sleeves. You buttoned it up, swallowing thickly as Arthur cleared his throat. 
“Now uh-“ Arthur said letting out a sigh, “I want you to know that I didn’t see nothin’.” The bed whines slightly as he stands up. 
“I know you felt something.” You said, shaking your head as you blush from head to toe. 
“Now-“ Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair as you turned to face him, his eyes flicking around the room before settling at your feet as he held up his hand. “We can just pretend this never happened, it was a matter of life and death.”
“I understand that.” You looked at him, fully looked at him. His gaze was low, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cheeks flushed. God, he looks wrecked.
Your eyes trailed over his body as he stood there, his hand on his hip as he popped his knee out. Your eyes moved down further, almost popping out of your head as you see how painfully hard he is pressed against his pants. 
“Are you-“ The words fall out of your mouth before you can think to stop them.
“Jesus.” Arthur sighed looking down, his hand rubbing his eyebrows.
“You are.” A nervous chuckle leaves your mouth as your eyes trailed up and down his body. You felt heat begin to spread between your thighs as he met your eyes. Your heart is still pounding against your rib cage from the encounter with the O’Driscolls. 
“I’m-“ He started throwing his hands up, “I’m sorry, alright but you can’t expect me- I’m only a man.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
“Nothing to be ashamed-“ He cut you off, shaking his head, “There is plenty to be ashamed of, I shouldn’t be getting so… so worked up over you.” He said motioning to you. You couldn’t help that you were also getting worked up, you subtly rubbed your thighs together. Trying to get any friction where you needed it most. Heat bloomed in your stomach as the tension in the room only got worse. He furrowed his brows, studying you.
“Wait,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “You feel it too.” He said, crossing his arms.
You scoffed, looking off to the side. “You wish.” You said, hating the slight tremor in your voice. Arthur strode across the room, stopping in front of you. He reached towards you, tilting your chin so you would have to look at him. 
“Tell me you don’t want this.” He said softly, his other arm encircling your waist pulling you flush against him. You stayed silent, looking up into his blue eyes. Slowly a smirk worked its way onto his face, “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled, cupping your cheek. He leaned forward brushing his nose against yours. Giving you the option to pull away if you wanted, his eyes softening as he looked into yours. You took the plunge, capturing his lips against your own as you threaded your fingers through his hair.
A groan rumbled through his chest as his hand tightened around your waist. You felt dizzy as his lips moved against yours, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth allowing his access as he pressed into you deeper. He rubbed himself against you, his hips pressed against your lower belly. 
You pulled away, breathing hard as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his mouth parted slightly as his chest rose and fell rapidly. You unbuttoned your blouse for the second time, just as feverishly as the first time, but now for a completely different reason. Arthur followed your lead, pushing his own suspenders down, his skillful fingers unbuttoning his own shirt. His eyes returned to your body as he ripped his shirt off of his shoulders, settling onto your breasts. He stared down at you, an almost predatory expression on his face. He closed the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other kneaded your breast. You let out a soft gasp, which quickly turned to a moan as he ran his thumb over your perk nipple. 
“Arthur.” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening as he watched you shiver against him. He flipped you around, his hand pressing you down onto the bed. His other hand flipped your skirts up, before pulling down your underclothes. He let out a soft groan as his eyes connected with your almost dripping pussy.
“This all for me?” He cooed, swiping his finger through your folds. You gasped, nodding as your hands gripped the quilt. 
“Yes.” You breathed, “Yes all for you.”
“Good girl.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he sunk a finger into your heat. You gasped as he slowly started pumping his finger inside of you. He leaned over you, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Yeah you like that don’t you?” He said nibbling on your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as he added another finger, scissoring them inside your walls.
“Fuck Arthur.” You melwed, pressing your forehead against the slightly scratchy quilt underneath you. “I need you.” You huffed, your walls clenching around his fingers.
“I’m gettin’ there.” He chuckled, pulling his finger out of you, you sighed at the loss. You could hear the rustling of clothing behind you, the distinctive metal on metal as you pulled off his belt. His warm calloused hands ran up your backside, gently spreading you before the head of his cock met your entrance. 
Jesus Christ he was big. 
He spit into his palm, pulling away as he spread his spit over the head of his cock. 
“What the hell is taking so long?” You asked impatiently, turning your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, a wicked grin on his face as he forcefully shoved his cock through your folds. It was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as you were propelled forward onto the bed. His hands pulled your hips back and speared you onto his dick. 
“Arthur!” You yelped, your fingers gripping the quilt as he thrust his pelvis flush to yours. 
“Christ woman.” He groaned, laying his forehead against your bare back. You moan as he pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you. “You sound even better when you ain’t faking it.” You can feel the chuckle rumble through his chest more than you can hear it as he speaks. 
“Arthur, Jesus." You pant, almost drooling over the way his cock hits that spot inside you over and over again. 
“Mmm.” He moans, tight lipped as he tilts his head back. You push back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts “Yeah, atta girl.” His praise only spurred you on, your thighs shaking as you pushed your ass against his pelvis. “You close?” He whispered, his warm hand moving down your thigh between your legs. His thumb circling your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You were grateful your upper half was supported by the plush bed as your legs gave out under you. A high pitched moan worked its way out of your chest as you all but collapsed on the bed. Your walls fluttered around him, milking his cock. 
“Shit.” He panted his breath fanning on your back as his forearms caged you in, his hips stuttering as he released his seed inside you. He groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he collapsed on you. His sweaty chest sticking against your back. He pulled out of you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He whispered. 
“S’okay.” You said breathing hard, his cum seeping down your thighs. He kissed down your spine, his hand lovingly squeezing your hips. 
He grabbed a towel from the dresser, cleaning your thighs off. 
“Who would have thought you’d known about aftercare.” You chuckle softly, your heart rate slowly coming back to normal.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me sweetheart.” He huffs, a small smirk on his face as he tucked himself back into his pants. He reached down, pulling your bloomers back up over your hips. 
“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, grabbing your blouse as he grabbed his shirt off the floor.
“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan.” He smirked walking towards you, buttoning his shirt as he stood in front of you. You rolled your eyes, buttoning your blouse. He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He said, his hand trailing down your jaw. 
“Alright, fine. Mr. Callahan.” You huffed, a blush covering your cheeks as you rested your hands against his broad chest. 
“Next time,” He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips against your ear, “You’re riding me.”
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manicpumpkindreamgirl · 4 months
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Wip so don't mind the fucky proportions/unfinished look but I have a point to make here
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strrwbrrryjam · 7 months
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can you imagine being john and only learning that your brother has forgiven you for leaving for a year and only moments later, he dies.
over the course of the game we see so much of johns and arthurs relationship, it clear that they love each other, but there is still resentment between each other and there is still very much distance between them both
honestly i think what the catalyst for their reconciliation was jacks kidnapping in chapter 4, john finally accepting the role of jacks father, in a way, correcting the mistake made all those years ago, is what helped them work to repair the relationship
that and the fact that as time goes on and things get worse in the gang, hosea and susan arent listening to them and they dont know who in their gang would consider their doubts as traitor thoughts so its obvious that the only people that they can confide in is one another, as they have grown up with one another, that despite their differences and their perceived resentment and the trauma between the both of them, they can still rely on one another
over time and as things go on, they get closer as brothers to one another, they confide more in one another and arthur encourages john to leave the gang, to take his family and leave for a better life
until one night, they are on that mountain, on the run from the pinkertons, their former gang members, and from the man that raised them until, arthur decides he cant go on no more
his end is near anyway, whether its by the sickness that is filling his lungs with blood, or by a bullet by his former gang members, or being shot to death by pinkertons, there is no life for him left
and if he does survive, what next? does he deserve to live on? after taking the lives of so many people, beating desperate people till their pockets empty of their last dollar,
even then, even if he did get his happy ending, that you and i believe he deserves, can he live with what hes done? or whats been done to him? can he live with the guilt that he survived, while sean and lenny and molly and hosea and kieran and grimshaw and eagle flies.. didn't
so he chooses to stay, and to let marston live, or at least give him time to get away, to his family, something that arthur doesnt really have no more and give marston a chance for peace
but john.. john doesnt know whats going on in arthurs head, all he knows and all he sees is his brother stopping, and staying behind, and he pleads with arthur to keep going
but arthur tells him to stop, and that its the end for him, but it doesnt have to be the end for marston, and that he wants marston to leave, and to live and "be a goddam man"
and john tells him, "you're my brother," one final desperate plea, telling arthur that he still needs him, that there is so much left for him and arthur, tells him with quiet resignation in his tone, "i know," and he walks away
can you imagine being john, at the bottom of that mountain, thinking about the fact that was the last time he'll ever see arthur again, and that while arthur dies, he will live on with his family, the survivors guilt that chews away from him
thinking about the bonding moments that they will never get to have, they will never work on another job again, they will never share a drink over the campfire again, they will never share a laugh or a tired look when dutch or hosea or susan go on another tirade again, they will never comfort one another again, or share their woes with one another
he will never get advice from his big brother again, or have his brother rib him again, or have his brother take care of him again
that he will never see someone so dear to him, that has been for him the majority of his life again
can you imagine being john.
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jjeanggrey · 6 months
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hyprfxtdbstrd · 8 months
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a tragic character in rdr2 that i feel is not talked about enough is Miss Grimshaw (spoilers ahead, obviously)
she was like the mother figure to several of the gang members (notably arthur and the girls)—she was strict and callous, but she cared about them so goddamn much. i love the mission where her and arthur go to rescue tilly because she just goes full mama bear mode, ready to go on a murdering spree to get her girl back. she's dangerously protective of the people she cares about.
the progressive downfall of the gang takes a toll on her. 'Prisoner for Life' makes me cry every time i hear it (for anyone who doesn't know, that's the song Grimshaw and Karen sing after Sean's death), because you can hear her voice cracking. you can hear the pain in her voice.
she loved that gang so fucking much. dutch did not deserve her. she held them together and he barely even bat an eye when she got shot. she trusted arthur, because she knew him and loved him and would protect him with her life. which is exactly what she did.
she deserved better. she deserved so much better.
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luvliewriting · 1 year
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People dont recognize Miss Grimshaw enough
Sure yes Arthur keeps most of the gang a float on the outside of things but what about inside of camp? Who's the one keeping everyone in line?
Miss Susan Fucking Grimshaw!
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Woman was keeping everyone in line and holding down the rules. Sure yes she killed Molly but that was justified in her eyes, to her (and practically everyone in camp), Molly was a traitor and broke the rules and therefore was dangerous to keep around
People like to hark on her for being bossy and yelling at the other girls to do their jobs but that's just who she is. Grimshaw is a woman who likes to get shit done and have it done right
Arthur was the one taking care of camp on the outside but on the inside, that was practically all Grimshaw
Plus its said she was basically there from the beginning too!
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evercornelias · 1 year
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there is something so hurtful about low honor jack marston being a creep towards women. yes he's low honor but I DON'T CARE. that is NOT the son abigail marston raised, and definitely not the one who was surrounded by positive female role models through his early life.
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a-f00ls-bl0g · 6 months
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Once again RDR 1-2 on  Twitter/X
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renslo161605 · 5 months
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The old Camp Gals
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Okay brief headcanon/backstory thing
This obviously isn't probably canon but- whatev I'm having fun leave me.
ELIZA JONAS -
Eliza worked in the bar but she was like a play-gal. She KNEW she was purdy and she used it by robbing drunk perverts and such, sometimes she'd end up killing them depending on how things went. But she did actually love Arthur and would often swap between the camp and the saloon she worked in ( keeping in mind in Arthurs words the gang was much less of a gang and more laid back then) when she had Isaac tho, she became good and honest for him. She always had a grudge against Arthur because she sacrificed everything for Isaac and he couldn't even give up a gun. She never really fell in love with an another man but her and Arthur weren't a thing for long. Mary happened somewhere inbetween Isaacs birth and Elizas death.
BESSIE MATTHEWS -
Okay i know Bessie looks STRIKINGLY like Mary Gillis in this and trust, she wasn't meant to. It just happened.
Anyway her and Hosea were never able to bare children and so basically just adopted everyone. Eliza was an orphan and never really had a female role model, Bessie quickly stepped into that role snd they got close - Bessie would often look after her when she was pregnant and help her with Isaac. When Bessie died Eliza stopped going to see the gang as much and simply waiting for Arthur to come to her. She was like a grandma to Isaac.
SUSAN GRIMSHAW -
idk how canon it is but i saw an old photo of her somewhere? I prob js missed it in the game but the photo was mighty purdy. But rarely do i see people talking about miss Grimshaws scar on her face? Maybe thats why she's so insecure - maybe that 'tainted' her beauty and Dutch quickly replaced her with Annabel, who he deemed 'more pretty' and she forever had a distain toward girls she thought were pretty. I actually love miss Grimshaw she needs more appreciation.
ANNABEL STARK (?) -
Not much to say about her. Her father was a bigger business man but tried to basically sell her, Dutch 'saved' her snd from then on she was 'golden girl'. She never got a chance to experience the loss of love that Miss Grimshaw and Molly O'shea did as she was murdered whilst picking flowers by Colm O'driscoll.
Yeah this is really far from canon but I'm having fun LMAOO
Elizas my fave dunno if you can tell...
<33
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katiesghosts · 1 year
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More RDR2 ladies!
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aspentart · 1 month
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Arthur Morgan x GN! Reader
(*Note: This is set after Colter because I haven’t gotten past Ch. 2 and want minimal spoilers even though I’ve watched countless lore videos. I just have an awful memory, lol.)
{{ Any asterisks are notes from me that are silly / wouldn’t match the theme of the fan fiction/ were too long-winded to put into the actual fic! They correspond/are paired respectively in numerical order <33
No warnings in particular, just a bunch of fluff at the end and slightly out of character interactions? <333
Everyone in camp had finally settled down after a few days, save maybe Uncle and Swanson (but when were they ever settled in?), but otherwise, everyone was doing fine. Valentine seemed a quaint town, the saloon already housing Javier and Charles. Everyone in Van der Linde was overjoyed to be off that mountain. You included, of course. Still recovering from that mountain fog, you stuck to doing chores around camp rather than immediately sniffing about Valentine for jobs. Even after Dutch’s long-winded speech of everyone needing to pull their weight, you felt the need to shake Colter’s frost from your bones, but only a few more days. Any longer than that, and everyone would be upset, not just Dutch. 
Today would be your last day of ‘leisure’ before you’d have to go into town and pick up a job for the camp’s funds. Pushing past your tent’s flaps, you greet warming rays of sunlight. Tilly and Karen are the first to say good morning to you-- giddy, to your surprise. They’re both rambling about going into town with Mary Beth, talking about all the mischief they’re planning. Leaving you after your tired hums for answers, the girls kept chatting until they seemed to slip away from camp. Miss Grimshaw is upset at the disappearance of Karen, Tilly, and Mary Beth; you do your best to assure her it won’t be long until the girls are all back. She simply finds it as motivation to nag you about your chores, and you have no choice but to oblige after she ushers you to chop wood for the various campfires. 
At the drop of a pin, you suddenly took up the chores of most of the girls. Of course, there wasn’t much to complain about; you are supposed to be helping them regardless. Most of the things were tame anyway, and honestly, you enjoyed the quiet nature of each task. It felt less like a punishment, in your opinion, at least. It’s not much longer until you hear chatter bubble up again, particularly the howling laughter you knew erupting from Karen. The sun was beginning to dip down by now; you hadn’t even noticed how quickly the day passed. “God, you should’ve seen the look on his face! I’m surprised he managed to stand a second against Arthur. Then again, I probably would’ve been worse off if Arthur wasn’t there,” Karen recalled, grabbing your arm. 
Mary Beth slipped her arm around your other arm, shaking it excitedly. “You should have come with us! God knows you need it; being cooped up in camp is doing you no good,” she giggles. With a slight nod, you reply, “I guess? ‘Think I like tending to chickens over being at the end of someone’s pistol.” 
“You’re such a sissy! Come and live a little, [y/n]!” Mary Beth retorts playfully, now grabbing at your shoulder.
“I think I’ve already lived my fair share before and during Blackwater,” you huff, shaking your head at the thought of another big mishap. 
To your surprise, Arthur butts into the conversation, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest: “I have to admit [y/n], ‘think you might have a better head over all of us.” You can only muster a soft sigh in response, but there’s a familiar tug on your lips. Karen nudges your side, raising her brows. Mary Beth mirrors her gesture, adding to the teasing by mimicking a wolf whistle. Arthur hadn’t heard (much to your relief), already being pestered by Dutch about something. You’re dragged away by the two, both incessantly teasing you before settling at a table with Tilly. By then, the group dismissed the entire exchange between you and Arthur; you thank a higher power or some ethereal being that they did.
The four of you chatted and swapped gossip for some time, well into suppertime. Tilly and Mary Beth excused themselves first, with Karen soon following after a small drink. Most of the camp slinked away into their respective tents after supper. Micah, Uncle, and John were bickering over something (mostly nothing) nearby. Fortunately, a ‘minimal’ amount of booze mingled amongst them. Thinking of heading to sleep, you finally leave your seat and walk towards your tent. 
However, you’re quickly interrupted by someone calling out your name. Your head instinctively turns to face whoever called out to you, finding a familiar face. Arthur. “Y’busy? I just need a small favor,” he asks you, standing by the posts at the front of camp. You weren’t, but your soft bedroll was calling your name. Considering your options for a second, you decide that resting can wait a bit longer. “Not busy at all. What do you need, Morgan?” You reply lightheartedly, quickly walking towards him. 
“Well, I lied; it’s not a favor,” Arthur hums, shifting on his feet. 
“A bit too late to be messing around,” you comment, chuckling.
Arthur nods in agreement, having a small laugh himself: “I’m well aware, [y/n]. Feel’ like I should-- I dunno, ‘live a little’ in the great words of our dear friend, Mary Beth.” 
Lacking proper words to express himself, Arthur slips off his hat and holds it to his chest before you can even get a word out. If you weren’t mistaken, he looked nervous despite wearing that sweet, lopsided grin of his. Then there was that look in his eyes, one you wouldn’t have unless you were being sweet on someone. Or, at least, were fond of. You would be lying to yourself, too, if you didn’t find it charming. He took a step closer, closing the fair gap between you both. With a deep breath, he began: “[y/n], you have been… an incredible person to know for these past years. I wanted to thank you for staying with us. With me in all that time.” Arthur’s voice was low and gentle. At first, you were expecting something much different, considering your interactions with Arthur were few and far between. To find the hound of Van der Linde completely smitten in front of you wasn’t on your checklist of life’s accomplishments; it certainly was now, though. 
*Arthur’s confession wasn’t long; he didn’t go out of his way to swoon you with some grand gesture. No long-winded rant or excessive compliments, just a cut-and-dry to-the-point talk. *It was very, well, something you expected from him. When Arthur seemed to have finished, you both stood in a bit of an uncomfortable silence. A smile crept onto your features as his words finally set in. It was safe to say you reciprocated his feelings, pulling the cowboy into a firm (but loving) hug. He returned your embrace, twice as firm.
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I would've written his confession, but I wasn't sure how to write the dialogue with his accent??
I read this line out loud, in my head, to my CAT. I couldn't come up with anything better, but I hope to improve in my next fanfic.
>>I'd love feedback and any constructive criticism or tips!
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hihomeghere · 5 months
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RDR2 Text posts that are 100% true
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shinygoldengun · 1 year
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Thinks about the gang's fidgets (under the cut!)
Tilly fidgets with her hair - mostly stray hairs or baby hairs or one lone curl that always seems to form. Grimshaw tries to get her to stop, quoting "it's not proper for a lady to mess with her hair after it has been put up". She still does it. She also plays with any sleeves she has, sometimes finding the texture irritating (especially in the humid Clemens Point or Shady Belle).
Mary-Beth fidgets with her shawl. With her wool one she likes sticking her fingers inside the loose knit of it. With her silk and cotton shawls, she likes fraying the edges with her finger. She also likes to shift her weight from foot to foot when standing up.
Karen used to fidget with her ringlets in her hair, but recently she's moved onto making her skirts swish, or moving her foot so she taps the tips of her toes or her heel on the ground with some force. In the summer, she either pulls down or pulls up her shirts constantly. If her skirts have pockets, she puts her hands in them and plays with the lining.
Abigail nervously plays with Jack's hair when he was little. When she is alone however she taps her fingers on her knee or palm, and shifts her weight from foot to foot. If she's sitting up high enough, she kicks her feet in the air.
Sadie picks at her eyebrow hairs, eyelashes, and invisible facial hair. She cracks her knuckles, and it actually is intimidating. She often brushes the leather of her belt or holsters or hat, liking the texture there.
Molly was always told that "a proper lady shouldn't fidget, she should stay still and calm" but she still fidgets. Always using her hand mirror, or fixing her hair, or tapping her toes.
Grimshaw likes to say that she doesn't fidget. But she does, she does! She cracks her fingers, and when she sits down her feet are constantly changing their position. All ladylike, she swears. Her legs are getting achy in old age, she also says.
Arthur likes to fidget with his satchel, twisting the strap around his fingers and playing with the flap. He also plays with his horse's hair - Bessie taught him to braid so he does that silently and mindlessly with his horse's mane. He also scratches the back of his neck, and if his beard is long enough he plays with that. He scratches at his hair, too.
Charles usually doesn't fidget in the presence of others, but he holds his hands together. He also fidgets with either his necklace or other beadwork in his wardrobe. It's always done gently - none of the beads or thread has broken, and he's silently proud of that. If his hair is down or messy in any way, he fidgets with it trying to fix it.
Javier fidgets in making sure his clothes and weapons are in the correct places. He also likes to tap his fingers against his thumb, remembering songs and lyrics while doing so - tapping to a beat only he can hear and remember.
John likes to fidget by either biting or pressing into his fingernails. He also cracks his fingers, a habit he picked up from grimshaw. He also touches his face scars a lot - either thinking about shaving, or feeling the texture between his scars and unscarred skin.
Lenny is always brushing a hand over his hair, or tapping his fingers on his knee, palm, or any table he's sitting on. When he's reading, he has a habit of curing the page he's currently on. He has grown out of the habit of eating the corners of pages when he was a kid, though. With his pocket watch, he fidgets with the chain or lightly taps the glass.
Sean is always fidgeting with his jacket, and his hat. Putting his hands in his pockets, and moving his hands. When sitting down, he slowly rocks back and forth, not able to sit perfectly still (unless Karen is on his lap!).
Kieran likes to fidget by partially removing his foot's heel from his boot, then putting it back. He likes standing on one foot then kicking his other leg. Otherwise, he's pulling at his facial hair - that's why it's so patchy. He likes to brush the horses a lot, and runs hands down their coats like one would pet a cat.
Hosea fidgets with his hands - clenching and unclenching, playing with his fingers, twiddling his thumbs ect. When sitting (if he's having a good day) he bounces one leg like when he was a young man. He also messes with his fingernails - that's where John got the habit from - and used to bite his fingernails. He still keeps them short out of habit.
Dutch likes to fidget by playing with his rings and other finery. He has a special or old ring that spins, and he uses that a lot. Otherwise he clenches and unclenches his fist.
Strauss is always cleaning, repairing, and generally checking on his glasses. He also likes to play around with his necktie, and clear his throat. More than once it has got him sent to the doctor, by either his family or by the gang.
Swanson waves his arms around a little, and is more erratic about it when high or drunk. Think of a person running moving their arms, but at a walking speed - that's him. If he's got his bible with him, he sometimes closes the hardcover on his fingers - just enough for pressure, but not to hurt. He also bites his nails. When the rev got sober he still moves his arms around a lot, but ditched the nail-biting and finger-pressing for constantly intertwining his fingers together.
Bill runs his hands through his beard, or his horse's mane.. if he's got a bottle in hand, he taps on the glass. Bill also raps his knuckles with his fingers - he says its to look intimidating, but its just something that he picked up. Doesn't know from where.
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strrwbrrryjam · 7 months
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i think the arthur morgan + susan grimshaw dynamics is just one of the most underappreciated and underrated dynamics in the rdr2 fandom
i mean, susan grimshaw is a very controversal character in the game, and for good reason, because man, i didnt like her in the beginning, the way she treats the girls is unacceptable and makes me so goddam mad and upset even if it was probably acceptable at the time, its horrid and awful and god i understand why people dont like her
i mean as i said i didnt like her in the beginning, but ive grown to like her the more ive played, solely for the way she interacts with arthur
because, i think its often overlooked that she was there, when arthur was a young teen, she was there with hosea and dutch, she was dutch's first women, and she saw that young scrawny teen grow into the man he is today
they banter! they joke! when arthur goes away for a long while she comes him to tell him that theyve, shes missed him but theyve been "very busy", she tears up when arthur tells her that "you're my family, miss grimshaw", HE CALLS HER "MISS", he don't call hosea and dutch "mister" despite the fact that he respects them just as much
when arthur comes in all dirty, miss grimshaw makes him wash up, either by physical force or just guiding him to the water barrel, i mean, can you imagine seeing it in real life and knowing who arthur morgan is? man's a beast, a killer, he's a big man, he's tall too, yet miss grimshaw, whose smaller in height and in size can just yell at him for not being clean, slap him and he laughs?? before all that he grumbles "i'm fine," the tone of a man that has spent so long of his life trying to convince miss grimshaw that hes clean, no he don't need to wash, he's busy miss grimshaw
and if arthur has the audacity to come in dirty again? miss grimshaw goes to slap him again, but he stops her, and SHE LETS HIM, and yet he still goes to wash and fricking pay her!!! they are both laughing and clearly enjoy each others company and hold so much respect and love for one another
and.. in chapter 6, when micah and arthur are both holding each other at gunpoint, susan grabs her gun, and she points the gun at micah, and i think the gravity of that decision is truly overlooked
i see a lot of people in rdr2 fanfiction, especially fix-it fanfiction, where they gang split into groups, have miss grimshaw stay with dutch. but in reality? i dont think she would
miss grimshaw is a smart women, she knows whats going on in her gang, and a women as smart as she would most likely be able to see the shifting dynamics in the gang, and what micah is doing. i mean, she obviously doesnt like micah (who in the gang really does? despite dutch, of course) she literally threatens to kill him when he gets too pushy with her
miss grimshaw sees, and miss grimshaw knows, there is no way you can convince me that she doesnt see how close micah and dutch are too each other, and that micah replaces arthur and john as dutch's favoured sons, even replaces hosea as the one that dutch confides in and yet despite all this.
when she has a chance to get rid of a traitor, arthur, from dutch's point of view, or get rid of dutch's now right hand man, she points the gun at micah.
she tells him to stand down and to put the gun down and when javier comes in to tell him that the pinkertons are coming, and shes distracted? micah shoots her. he shoots her when shes distracted, like the rat that he is, the coward that he is, and god i get so angry and upset that micah is her downfall
and arthur is clearly upset about it, that she cannot help grimshaw, he cannot save grimshaw or at least comfort her while she dies and god it makes me so miserable that im crying even typing this lol
but the gravity of that decision, because when she points the gun at micah, she may as well be pointing that gun at dutch, telling him that how dare he, how dare he choose this man, this coward, over the men that they've raised, their sons,
i think she knows that dutch would consider her a traitor too, after pointing her gun at micah, and yet, she still does it. that whether she even wishes to or not, she would not be able to stay, or even live after pointing that gun at micah, and yet she doesnt care. she does it anyway.
whether its obvious or not, when susan is made to choose between dutch and arthur, she chooses arthur
(at least in the chapter 6 of course, after all the shit they've been through, although, i do think you can make an arguement that even earlier in the game, that she would choose to go with arthur, for many reasons which i wont go into here cause this is already long enough)
its beautiful, its stunning and its so tragic the love that she carries for her boys, and the love that they have for her, because shes their mum, or at least she loves them like a mother does, like a parent should and im just... im in awe really
(the love that she holds for her boys isn't just exclusive to her boys, she clearly loves and cares for the girls, in her own messed up way, really, which still doesn't exclude her actions and the way she treats them and its something that i can never accept)
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jjeanggrey · 1 month
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Wish I Was A Single Girl Again
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hellwalkingonearth · 9 months
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I don’t know if this happens in every play through, but the first time I played RDR2, the day after Molly’s murder, Dutch was standing in front of his tent alone and pontificating about how much he loved and would have given his life for the gang members. He was going on and on about it, but hardly anyone was listening to him. Think about it: something intense had happened in the camp, and yet the gang wasn’t gathered around him to hear his speech like they would have been at the beginning. Dutch, who, in the past, could have talked anyone into anything with his silver tongue, was now unable to compel anyone with his words. He looked so… pathetic. The woman who adored him had been murdered in front of everyone’s eyes, and yet he was there trying to make himself look better after what had happened to her.
Dutch was nothing but a phony. A small, weak, self-centered jerk, and nothing else.
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