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tempting-andromeda · 8 months

Text

Fuck it writing for rdr2 now

Nsfw headcanons

Warning: smut, knife play, somnophilia, power dynamic, spanking, hair pulling, bruises.

Characters

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Charles Smith, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy,Micah Bell, and Eagle Flies.

Arthur Morgan

He likes for sex to be intimate but he gets a rise out of things escalating. Like you two are in bed about to sleep but like 20 minutes later your legs are over his shoulders and he’s shushing you to stay quite.

He doesn’t force moments between you two he likes when it’s natural.

He laughs softly at you if you get too eager for him. He teases you and degrades you for it softly like “Really? This desperate for me? Guess I gotta give you a good time don’t I, Girl/boy.”

He likes to hear you talk during it even if it's just jumbled moans. He'll ask you questions like “That feel good?” and he likes a response but he doesn't force it (unless he's being rough then he'll stop moving and make you reply)

Sex is personal for him so he likes to make you feel good and sometimes he completely forgets about himself.

John Marston

He likes being in control but simultaneously he likes when you’re in control as well. He’s a complicated man.

He’s so fucking eager. Sometimes he forgets about foreplay but once he remembers he focuses on making you finish until you’re barely able to take him.

He’s real into dirty talk. He simply cannot shut up. He’s between your legs describing how you taste.

He has a high sex drive yet he cums quickly. He goes multiple rounds to make up for it though.

He’s so sensitive. He tries to pretend he’s not but after a while he starts begging you to bite his neck or use your mouth on him.

Dutch Van Der Linde

He likes a power dynamic. He likes being dominant and he doesn’t like that changing. If you try to top or be dominant he sees it as a challenge.

He’s into humiliating you but he doesn’t like bringing it out of the bedroom. He likes seeing you on your knees as he sits in a chair and he likes making you beg to suck him off.

He likes brats. He’s into the challenge and he likes making them submissive. It’s a huge thing for him if you act all bratty.

He likes to lightly smack you but doesn’t actually apply pressure unless he’s spanking you. Like if you back talk or something he grabs your face and uses a stern voice and after you say “yes sir” he lightly taps your face.

Really likes to stand back and admire you after he’s done with you. Looking at your panting frame and fucked out face. It makes him so proud. If he could he’d have a picture of it.

Charles Smith

He’s super into passionate slow sex. Pressing his forehead against your chest as he praises you but sometimes he can’t seem to hold himself back and he fucks like his life depends on it.

Like he’ll have your legs spread in a nearly humiliating way but he’s complimenting you the whole time, praising your very existence.

He likes when you wrap your legs around his waist. It makes him feel like you’re desperate for him as well and it drives him crazy.

He’s a munch. No doubt about it. Sometimes it’s the only thing he wants to do. He’ll lay in between your thighs like he’s starved.

Having sex with Charles is like experiencing a Hozier song first hand. At the end of every night with him you have absolutely no doubt he worships you.

Javier Escuella

He’s into knife play but he’s not entirely into drawing blood. He’s into cutting your clothes off of you. Like completely ignoring the buttons on your shirt and instead just running his blade along the buttons, snapping them off.

He’s real into hair pulling both ways. He likes fucking you from behind to pull your head back so he can kiss you and he likes when you pull his hair in missionary.

Possessive. No doubt about it. I feel it in my bones. He always asks you who you belong to before you cum and he gets a huge rise out of it. He makes your scream out his name at least once every time y’all have set.

He’s super into quickies. He likes to pull you away for a bit and absolutely destroy you and then go back to what you were doing and watch you struggle to pretend like nothing happened. It’s a huge turn on for himz

He likes to cum on you instead of in you. He’ll finish in your chest, back, stomach, face. He’s so into it. He likes knowing you’re a mess for him and you’re allowing him to do this to you.

Sean MacGuire

He’s huge on praise. He needs you to tell him he’s big and that no one makes you feel this way. It drives him crazy.

He’s super messy when he fucks. There’s something about it that makes him feel prideful that you’re a mess and he’s a mess.

He likes to humiliate you but in a different way from Dutch. Dutch does it for the power dynamic and he does it just because he likes the idea that he’s the only one allowed to do this to you.

He’s a head pusher but he always makes it up to you afterwards by making you pull his hair when he goes down on you.

He likes having sex in semi public places. It fills him with such adrenaline he’s trying to go again afterward.

Lenny Summers

Hes into handjobs. More than anything. If you put your hands in his pants he’s nearly crumbling that instant.

He likes when you go down on him randomly. Like he’s reading a book and suddenly he’s getting head or waking up to head? It’s so attractive to him.

He knows what you like and what you don’t like and his fingers are magical. Sometimes he tries to multitask and do something else while he fingers you but he ends up giving in and giving you all of his attention.

He’s real nervous at the idea of people catching you two so he just whispers a lot of praise in your ear. He feels horrible degrading you but he tries.

He moans at everything. Like if he goes down on you, he’s moaning the whole time. If he’s touching you he’s still moaning. It’s just attractive to know he’s doing something that arousing to you.

Kieran Duffy

He likes when you tell him what to do. He’s real clumsy most of the time and if you lead his hands and body and tell him what to do he’s determined not to fail.

His dirty talk is mostly him asking for reassurance like “am I doin’ good?” Or it’s just him worshiping you.

He whimpers and whines so easily it’s like he’s getting fucked. (Or he is) he gets real embarrassed afterwards but he doesn’t try to stop

He begs to touch you even if you’re not holding him back or telling him he can’t. His hands could even be on you and he’s begging to touch you.

He moans so loud when he cums. He always tries to cover his mouth to muffle it or he buried his face into you to prevent anyone from hearing.

Micah Bell

He’s rough. Real rough. A night with him probably ends with a few bruises and a sore body and he’s real smug about it too.

He likes watching you pleasure yourself. Sometimes he’ll touch himself as you do so and after you both finish he won’t touch you.

He loves edging you. Sometimes he pulls away right before your climax and wait for you to beg. Once he got up and nearly left just to see your reaction.

He likes shoving your face into the pillow as he fucks you from behind. It makes him feel dominant and like he’s in control.

His praise is really rare so he saves it for a special moment. He’ll have you hanging off the side of the bed as he bellows your back out and he makes sure you hear him when he speaks, grabbing you by the back of the neck just to whisper something like “look so pretty from back here, slut.”

Eagle Flies

Experimentalist to the core. He wants to try everything at least once. He thinks it’s a huge trust thing to experiment with intimacy.

He likes showing off his strength and stamina so he likes to lift you up to fuck you. He can last so many rounds too so by the end both of you are panting and tired.

He says “I love you” during sex. He feels so intimate to say it and he likes to make eye contact as he does it. He knows it’s cheesy but he likes to say “I love you” while he finishes

He likes to talk about your sexual fantasies and tries to recreate them as best as he can. He feels like he has to prove that he’s better than some fantasy and he never fails.

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lesbian-for-arthur-morgan · 9 months

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do you have any headcanons for arguing and making up? i’m a slut for angst with comfort 🙈

Making Up After a Fight

Gender Neutral Language!

Genre: slight angst, fluff Featuring: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, and Sean MacGuire Warnings: Dutch is kind of toxic | Not edited

AN: Sorry it took me so long to get these written! I went through some nasty writer's block and decided to play the game a little to help out but all that did was distract me for a week. This is definitely pretty roughly written - I'm also a huge slut for angst with comfort, though, so I hope you like these! <3 ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have any questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Arthur gets frustrated easily when he feels like he’s not being listened to or understood. It’s not really anyone’s fault, but his emotions can get the better of him and he’ll say something that he doesn’t mean.

“You got bait for brains or are you just being an idiot for fun?” (or something like that)

You know in the back of your head that he doesn’t mean it, and he regrets it the second the syllables bounce off his lips. Your brain can know something but your heart will still hurt all the same.

Usually when Arthur is getting too big for his britches with you, you can shut him down and put him in his place. It’s something he highly respects about you - not putting up with his bullshit when he gets like that. Sometimes, though, your eyes will start to water and you can’t say anything without feeling a lump in your throat constricting your vocal chords.

You have to turn and walk away or else you’ll cry in front of him. That would just make everything worse.

Seeing your form retreating, knowing that you’re running off because you’re hurt rather than angry, made Arthur’s chest grow heavy with guilt. His first instinct is to follow after you and hold you until you’re feeling better.

But since he’s the one who hurt you, he just lets you walk away and he goes to pout since he thinks he deserves to be outcast for a little while.

He’ll give you as much space as he can bear, avoid you for an hour maybe two, but he comes crawling back with those puppy dog eyes and a singular wild flower in his fist.

He’ll go to his cot where you’re sitting with his hat in your lap. You stopped being upset five or ten minutes after the argument. Once you took a few deep breaths you understand, but you also had to understand that Arthur would come back to you after he was done punishing himself.

So you waited.

When you saw him approach with that sheepish expression and slouched posture your heart bled for him. He was a brute and an ass at times, but he meant well.

“’M’sorry, Darlin’,” He’d mumble and get on his knees in front of you. “I didn’t mean it, I never mean it.”

He places the flower in your lap by his hat and gazes up at you. His hair is long and falling in front of his eyes a little, so you brush the strands away from his forehead to get a better look at him.

His blue eyes are a little red and there’s a deep crease in his forehead from an hour or so of constant worrying.

“You can be so mean sometimes, Arthur Morgan,” You scold him lightly and he sighs, nodding.

“I know.”

He spends the rest of the week making it up to you. Truly it doesn’t matter exactly what was said or what the argument was about, when you are truly hurt by his words/actions it kills him. He’ll punish himself for a bit then come back ready to spoil you with words, presents, kisses, and anything else you could possibly ask for.

John Marston:

He’s constantly arguing with you about something. A lot of the time he just picks at you to get a rise out of you - he thinks it’s funny.

Things can get out of hand quickly with him if he grates on a nerve of yours and you bite back though. His first instinct is to give a smartass retort and it just spirals into a full-blown fight from there.

“John Marston you are a pig!”

You storm off and hide in your tent for a while. He’s just standing there dumbfounded. He starts asking himself why he let it get to that point, why did he have to open his big ol’ mouth and antagonize you?

He tries to get you to talk to him, he’ll pace in front of the tent and start calling your name nicely. He won’t ever open the flap though, he doesn’t want to invade your space and risk riling you up anymore.

When you ignore him he’ll eventually get the hint and wander off.

He tries to figure out something to do while he thinks about how to make it up to you. He offers to help Arthur out with any bounty hunts or little jobs, he’ll offer to take Bill or Lenny into town, or he’ll just pick up extra shifts of being on lookout for the camp.

When you finally come out he has to restrain the urge to run to you and scoop you up, demanding that you forgive him so that he can stop pouting.

He does drop whatever it is he’s doing to approach you and makes small talk to test the waters.

“How are you?”

“Fine, John.”

“That’s good… You still mad at me?”

You roll your eyes and try to walk away, but he shoots out and grabs your hand before you can get too far. He doesn’t hold you tightly; his fingers gently encase your own, if you wanted to leave you could easily. But, you falter with your back turned to him and wait for him to speak.

“I’m sorry, really. You know I’m an idiot.” He’s practically whining as he says it, begging for you to look at him.

You turn your head slightly to give him a side glare. At first, the sight makes his heart drop into his feet and he thinks he really screwed up this time, but when a small smirk starts to quirk the corner of your mouth upwards he lets out a low sigh.

“You are cruel,” He chuckles and tightens his grip as he pulls you into his arms and wraps you up in a bear hug.

Your laughs are loud and genuine as he twirls you around, pressing chaste kisses to your cheeks as he does so. Your voices echo throughout the camp once again.

Everyone in camp knows what’s going on with you and John whether you’re fighting or making up, your business is everyone else’s.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

I want to start out by saying Dutch never actually apologizes when you two fight. He’ll buy gifts, say pretty words, whisper sweet nothings, and all the like, but the words “I’m sorry” have never left that man’s lips in his entire life. He will not start now.

Dutch’s obsession with the O’Driscoll’s can cloud his judgment on many things, it makes him blind to reason. Further than that, it makes him hateful and sometimes just plain mean.

He trusts you, he loves you. So, you’re stuck listening to his plans and his grievances with the gang, the law, the O’Driscoll’s, and any other misfortune he has had to endure in his life.

He’ll go on and on, plotting, groaning, whining. One night, after being sat on his cot for hours, you’ve had enough. You beg him to do anything but complain and come up with a half-brained plan to get rich quick.

It hits a nerve and he blows a fuse.

“You don’t understand what’s at stake, do you?” He’s practically yelling. “It’s so easy for you - I spoil you!”

You’re stunned into silence as he shouts at you. You didn’t expect him to blow up.

“Get out of my tent, get out of my sight!” He sends you away. In a daze you stumble out of the tent and into the dark camp.

There’s a few people still up wandering around. Mary-Beth is singing by the fire and Kieran is trying to sing with her, but doesn’t really know the words. Your feet start moving on their own and you take a seat across from the two at the fire.

“What’s going on, gunslinger?” Karen shuffles to a seat beside you and settles down. Mary-Beth’s singing falters for a minute but she continues on, just quieter.

“Dutch is pissed.” You mumble, staring into the flames.

“When is he not? Have a drink,” Karen shoves a bottle of beer into your hand and watches as you take a long swig. She continues, “Have some fun without him for once.”

The night takes a turn from there. You sing and dance and laugh. A few more people join in until it’s gone from moping around the fire to a proper party around it. Javier even brings out the guitar. The noise is enough to draw Dutch from the dark hole in his tent to see what’s going on.

When he sees you, the tears on your cheeks have dried and your face is flushed from the drinks, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. To him, afterall, you were just naive. You didn’t understand what was truly going on in the camp, didn’t understand his plans.

He creeps out of the tent and sneaks up behind you as you’re dancing along to Javier and Mary-Beth. When a pair of arms wraps around your waist, you let out a little squeal.

Dutch spins you around so that you’re facing him, your bodies pressed flush together causing a heat to flare in your stomach.

“My beautiful dancer,” Dutch mumbles and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t fight, don’t ask any questions. You’re just happy that he seems to be sorry for what he did. He’s holding you after all of that, kissing you. He must be sorry, and so are you.

When he pulls back you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’m sorry, Dutch.” You whisper.

“Hush now,” He starts swaying as he holds you, leading you into a dance.

Your fight is practically forgotten by the end of the night. In the early hours of the morning, everyone is stumbling back to their respective beds. Stomachs are full and heads will be aching come noon, but to you it was all worth it. So long as you and Dutch aren’t fighting anymore.

Javier Escuella:

He hates fighting. I mean not in general, but just with you.

He won’t allow himself to be taken advantage of or walked all over, but if there’s some stupid argument that’s making you mad he will roll over and apologize. Just to keep the peace.

He loves you more than he loves being right, and if it makes you happy to just admit that then so be it.

When y’all do fight, though, it’s over something big. Stupid quarrels are so rare that the first time anyone catches wind that the two of you had a falling out it shocks half the camp to the core.

Javier would only truly get upset with you in a life or death situation. Like when you decided to not tell anyone you were heading into town really quick and met a few O’Driscoll’s in the general store.

When you saw them you recognized them as few that had gotten into a fight with Javier in town a few weeks ago. Javier let them walk away to save face, there was a large group of witnesses that would have pretty much guaranteed him an execution if he had taken their lives.

Your heart skipped a beat as one of them turned to look at you, but they left shortly after you entered the store and you prayed that would be the end of it.

After you finished at the store, though, you walked through the door to find the three men standing in the road before you. Their arms were folded across their chests and their legs spread in a dominant stance.

You clutched the items you bought to your chest and tried walking away from the trio, but one of them called out and made you stop in your tracks.

“You’re one of Dutch’s people ain’t you?” The tallest one said. It wasn’t really a question, he knew who you were.

“And what’s it to you, mister?” You shot back, reaching for the dagger in your belt.

“I’ve got a few questions for you about your boss.” The three of them started moving towards you. They surrounded you and backed you to the wall of the general store. You whipped out your dagger to tell them to back off, but it wouldn’t do much against three of them - you knew that and so did they.

The only reason you had made it out of that situation without even a scratch was because Arthur happened to be riding through town on his way back to camp and noticed the commotion.

He brought you back to camp, and that’s where you saw Javier standing at your cot with this arms crossed and a scowl darkening his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He practically shouts at you.

You didn’t mean to, you held them back as long as you could, but tears start flowing freely down your face in large, hot drops.

Javier’s scowl disappears almost immediately. He didn’t expect you to cry. Maybe yell back or explain yourself, but not cry. He drops his arms and grabs both of your hands in his.

“Are you okay?” His voice is low and laced with worry. Arthur got to him first and told him what happened briefly, so he knew you weren’t physically hurt, but other than that he didn’t know what happened.

“They surrounded me. I was - I was so scared, Javier.” Your throat was thick and it was hard to speak. Javier embraced you, rubbing your back and holding the back of your head as you cried harder into his shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” He assures you and presses soft kisses into your hair.

He spends the next few days feeling guilty for being mad at first.

You tell him you understand his reaction and that you were sorry,but he just says sorry back to you and claims he shouldn’t have been angry when you were scared.

You’re both equally sorry, I guess.

After that, though, Javier refuses to let you go anywhere alone. You don’t have to go with him but you have to have a traveling buddy in case anything like that happens again.

Charles Smith:

Doesn’t fight with anyone, really.

Sure, you can get mad at him and yell and hold a grudge, but he just lets you figure your emotions out from afar if that’s what you need. He gives you space when you need it, attention when you want it, and does anything that he can for you.

He loves you more than anything in the world, so when you’re mad at him it eats away at his insides until you make up. He’s literally the consent king, though, and will wait for you to come to him before he initiates anything.

It feels like he doesn’t care sometimes. It drives you crazy that he doesn’t chase after you and try to make up with you then and there or rectify the situation immediately, which turns into another argument.

“Do you even give a shit what I feel?” You frown at him one morning after a small argument that he just brushed off from the night before. He assumed since you slept with him in his bedroll, that meant you were over it.

“I love you! What are you talking about?” He rubs at the little stubble on his chin in exasperation.

“You never listen you just say ‘okay’ and move on. You don’t learn that way, Charles. You roll over and the same thing will keep happening because you aren’t listening.” You try to explain yourself. Charles nods but you can’t tell if he actually gets what you’re trying to convey since he never acknowledges it more than that.

You sigh and get up.

“I need a minute, come talk to me when you can.” You walk away from him and towards Miss Grimshaw doing the laundry.

Charles just stays where he is and lets out a long deep sigh. He thought it would be better for him to just agree with you, it would make you happy to be agreed with rather than continuing to fight over something so trivial.

He hasn’t been with the group for a super long time, but he’s created a strong bond with Arthur. So, that’s who he goes to to ask for advice on the whole situation.

Charles relays as much as he can back to Arthur and the cowboy just starts to chuckle at the absurdity of the conversation. He’s used to people coming to him for advice (he doesn’t really get why), but the situation with you and Charles came out of nowhere for him. He didn’t realize you two fought ever.

“No relationship is perfect, Charles.” Arthur suggests.

That’s literally no help to him so Charles walks off and tries thinking what to do. He comes up with nothing, though. Which makes him frustrated.

He starts walking towards you. You look up and see his determined face and scrunched brow and excuse yourself to meet him halfway.

“We need to talk.” He says, his words are intense but his gaze is still soft. You aren’t scared of him anyways.

“I think we do.” You reply and follow him to a private area right outside of camp.

The whole time he goes off about how he doesn’t get what you want from him. What you expect him to do or say when you get mad or annoyed.

“I just want to know you care about me and my emotions.”

“Dear, I care about you more than anything in the world. More than life itself, why do you question it?” He’s basically pleading with you to understand him, to finally see that just because he isn’t as forward with every single thought (good or bad) on his mind doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you or your emotions.

It takes little to no time for you to throw your arms around him in an embrace and mumble an apology into his hair.

Even your big fights aren’t really fights.

Sean MacGuire:

Sean does stupid stuff all the time. Literally he does stupid stuff more often than he does anything smart.

Especially when he’s drunk.

One night a small group of some of the gang decided to head into the saloon in town for a drinks for the night. You and Sean were always up for a good time and tagged along - obviously.

It presented opportunity for a little pickpocketing as well (if you didn’t get too drunk and sloppy to do it).

Everything went well for the first hour. Drinks were shared among the group and laughs were bellowing through the air with a contagious warmth. Better yet, no one seemed to be testing the waters and starting a bar fight.

Sean had his arm around you the entire night. He claimed it was to let all the scoundrels at the bar know that you were his and no one should even try to stake a claim to you.

You rolled your eyes but stayed nestled in the spot.

That is, until you were pulled away by your bladder. All the drinks were catching up to you and you slipped from under him to run to the restroom really quick.

When you came back, though, a working woman had taken advantage of your absence to catch Sean’s attention.

In his drunken state, Sean couldn’t even realize that the weight of the woman beside him wasn’t the same as when you were sitting there before. He didn’t say a thing as her arms wrapped around his torso or when she ran her fingers through his longish hair.

Tears fill your eyes almost instantly. You try to blink them away and get a better look at the scene in front of you, but it doesn’t change. It only gets worse as her lips start leaving rougey red stains on his neck.

“Sean!” You shove at his shoulder. When he sees you in front of him, his bleary red eyes turn to the woman beside him. His brain takes a minute to put two and two together, but by the time he has figured the situation out you are pushing through saloon patrons to get out into the night air.

Sean sobers up immediately. He pries himself out of the grasp of the other woman and follows your trail out the door.

He calls your name over and over again until he finally finds you sitting on the street corner crying into your knees.

“Please, Love!” He approaches you and your head whips up at the sound of his voice.

“You stay away from me you dog.” You snap and get up. You’re still pretty drunk as well however and you wobble and nearly fall over at the sudden movement.

Luckily Sean catches you by the arm before you can tumble into the dirt.

“I didn’t know she was there, honest. Thought you was there beside me.” He lifts a hand to your cheek, ready to brush away some of your tears, but you turn your cheek and shrug him off.

“Sure.” You say and try to walk away. He catches your arm again and turns you towards him once more.

“Honest, Love. Why would I pay for sex anyways - I’ve not a penny to me name and you give it to me for free.”

The sentiment was there, but definitely not the right thing to say.

You have to physically restrain yourself from hitting him upside the head at his words.

He sees the struggle on your face as soon as he says it and clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Sean MacGuire you bastard!” You shout at him, but can’t help a weak laugh from erupting from your throat at the end.

“I didn’t mean that, oh lord I didn’t.” The terror in his face only causes you to laugh harder.

The laughter surprises him and even yourself, so much so that the both of you are laughing. Though you don’t really understand why.

“If you ever-“ You say with a mocking glare, “Ever do something like that or say something like that again, I am leaving you Sean MacGuire.”

“I wouldn’t blame you one bit,” He says somberly, still with a small smile.

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I didn't write for Sadie because I genuinely could not think of a situation for her or how she would be, my brain died halfway through writing Sean's. I'll just have to write some Sadie focused hc's next time teehee~

2K notes · View notes

cowboydisaster · 11 months

Note

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

A Shoulder to Cry on

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 1000

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

beta read by @margowritesthings

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm so sorry.” He whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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allzelemonz · 7 months

Text

Sit Still: Arthur Morgan X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 6, Dubcon/Frottage Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Slight dubcon, frottage, sex with clothes on, grinding, kissing, neck kissing, marking, low honor Arthur Morgan, dominate Arthur and submissive Reader, sleeping, slight cuddling Summary: With the whole camp noticing Arthur’s darker turn recently, Dutch sent you out to keep an eye on him.

The gang isn’t entirely sure what’s been going on with Arthur. All Miss Grimshaw told was that he’d told Mary-Beth that he’d been killing people without reason. Even Dutch is concerned, shutting himself and Hosea in his tent to talk about their son. You heard John telling Abigail not to let Jack near him for now. Kieran’s been shyer around him. Uncle hasn’t asked him for money. Something is wrong with the Van der Linde work horse, his mind isn’t as it should be.

So being alone with him is a little unnerving.

Dutch warned you explicitly before you left for this overnight job. “Watch him.” He said. “Tell me what you think.”

You glance up at Arthur. His eyes are fixed on the fire as he pokes it with a stick. He seems fine right now and he was pleasant enough on the ride out, telling a few jokes and making idle conversation. Dutch trusted you with this little ruse, a half baked job to observe Arthur’s mental state, because he knows you can handle yourself. You could fight him off at the very least, get to your horse, and you can watch him unlike Micah or Bill.

Still, your heart races.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Arthur mutters, eyes fixing on you as he sits back on his bedroll across the fire. “Somethin’ Dutch said?”

Your breath hitches but you shake it, keeping your cool. “Just cold out here, should’ve worn a better coat.”

Arthur hums, his eyes boring into you so hard you can feel it.

He just seems different, very much not himself. You know Arthur well enough to know he’s not usually the kind of man to feel so off putting. He’s an outlaw, sure, but he’s usually the type you’d feel safe sharing a camp with. Right now you have half a mind to think he might slit your throat in your sleep. But it’s Arthur, he wouldn’t do anything like that. He wouldn’t.

“Cold, huh?”

You meet his eyes for a moment, that same bright color shaded by the dark flames. They look menacing somehow, even though you’ve seen them scrunched with laughter and accompanied by flushed cheeks. You just nod.

“Suppose I am too.” He says without a hint of a shiver. “Maybe we should share, keep each other warm.”

You feel a twinge in your chest. Share? With Arthur? No doubt you’ve thought about it, cuddling up to him in his tent on cold nights at camp. And you especially thought about it when you were up in Colter. But now, with the way Arthur’s been these past few weeks, the thought makes you nervous.

“I’m alright, Arthur.”

“No.” He says gruffly. “I insist.”

You stare for a moment. Insist?

Then Arthur moves, standing and walking off into the dark. You assume he goes to take a piss, not overly concerned about his whereabouts. He’s too far away to see for a while so you give yourself time to think. Arthur Morgan… insisting?

It happens fast, hands shoving your shoulders and weight on top of you before you can do anything. You’re pinned to your bedroll and when you look up, it’s Arthur’s dazzling eyes looking down at you. He’s sitting on your legs, just below your gunbelt, his hands holding your wrists on either side of your head.

You swallow your nerves before you speak. “Arthur?”

He shushes you, soft and smooth, as he moves your wrists together so he can hold them with one hand. You don’t have the present mind to protest anyway. With his newly free hand, he unbuckles your gunbelt and you mindlessly lift your hips to let him pull it off.

“Good boy.” He mutters, his hand settling on your stomach. “Sit still fer me.”

You don’t dare move when he lets your wrists go. Arthur could kill you in a second if he really wanted to. Even if you still had your guns, no one is a faster draw than him. He shifts up your legs a little, leaning forward so his body covers yours. Your mouth goes dry when you feel it, Arthur’s dick pressing into your own. It’s hard, straining against his pants as he begins to grind into you. He hardly bothers to spare you of his weight, leaning hard into you and his arms only serving to sit beside your head as he breathes against your neck. His legs are spread over you, leaving only your own legs as a probable means of escape.

But do you want to?

Arthur’s an attractive man, usually a good one too. The Arthur you know would have asked before pinning you down, he would’ve been more gentle about it. But this… this feels good too. Arthur’s dick rubbing yours through two layers of pants has already gotten you half hard, and when you feel his lips at your neck, you become solid. Arthur groans against your skin, his hips digging against yours further and faster. He’s sloppy, needy, and you wonder why he doesn’t just shed the clothes keeping you apart.

In a way, you’re thankful he doesn’t.

“Ya feel good, boy.” He murmurs, his lips pressing wet, hot kisses along your neck.

“Arthur…”

He shushes you again, moving his head to kiss you properly. He’s warm and he tastes so deeply of whiskey you have to wonder if he’s drunk. The movement of his hips distracts you before you can think much about it. Fast, impossible good ruts that make your clothes rub heavenly against your sensitive dick. And when paired with Arthur’s rough lips on your own and the force of it all, you feel yourself getting close.

Arthur pulls away from the kiss, sitting up slightly as his hands return to hold your wrists. You haven’t moved them, you’ve barely moved at all. Only the slight jut of your hips or the squirming of your legs, nothing Arthur has noticed. He grinds down against you, a low groan coming out of him and you have to hold your own expressions in.

“Knew you’d be good.” He mutters. “Just wait ‘til I do this proper.”

You feel a hitch in your throat, then the waves over take you as Arthur ruts faster. You grind up into him and you can hear him chuckle as he leans down to suck a mark into your neck. Your vision blurs a bit as you come down. There’s a new feeling that accompanies the same heavy weight of Arthur, a wet warmth in your pants. Arthur has drooped into you, his breathing slow and steady and his arms wrapped around you. Timidly, you move your arms around him once you hear the gentle snores.

You have no idea what you’ll tell Dutch now.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #x reader #x male reader #fictober #kinktober

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strawberrylind · 9 months

Note

Hi! I don't know if you check your notes on here, but I added some information about visceral body fat to your tutorial zine that I think would be really helpful for people. It's a factor that's always left out of the conversation when people talk about the appearance of body fat and I think that's just because nobody knows about it!

hi! i appreciate your input! just wanted to clarify something in what your tags mentioned. i understand that my tutorial wasn’t very inclusive towards amab body types (and that fatpos tutorials usually lean toward afab representation, which i agree) but that’s mainly because i was 17 when i made that post and didn’t have as wide a lens artistically or observationally as i do now. i’m working on creating a sequel tutorial including the difference between visceral/sebaceous fat, and i loved your addition on it. i definitely didn’t intend to exclude fat amab folks from my post, that just wasn’t something i felt knowledgeable enough to speak on, drawing from my lived experience. obviously to improve my work i’ve studied more extensively since then, and i hope my next tutorial will be full of more updated info and new contexts. <3 but of course thanks for adding it on, all of the additions (except for fatphobic people) on that post are wonderful! i’ll make sure to include this in the next one ^^/

#maybe i completely misread your tone though i have a tendency to do that #that post has aged poorly in several regards (mostly stylistically) n i want to add to it with my next tutorial #there’s some invalid information on there and things i’d wished i’d expanded on ie visceral fat that i learned through people-#-commenting after the fact #so i definetly want to work to make it better! i have several pages on it already #but i’m covering some heavier topics like fetishization and seteriotypes that are taking a bit longer to write because of the subject #i hope to get it out before next year? but i’ll be busy with thesis as well so we can only really hope ^^;#anywhoo i hope this clears that part up #i definetly didn’t want to intentionally neglect a whole faction of fat bodies i just didn’t have the context to make something i thought-#-as correct or substantial #asks #shut up lind #(that’s my non art tag lol i should prolly change it)

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johnpriceslamb · 4 months

Note

hi there! i really liked your arthur with a feminine gf fic and id love to see more like that! could i maybe request a fic with a cute girly reader who is a friend of mary-beths and when mary-beth brings her to camp she spots arthur and literally goes heart eyes for him🥺 maybe whenever shes visiting camp arthur always finds an excuse to go over and talk to them just so he can see her aww! and its so obvious to everyone in camp and they all tease them over how sweet on each other they are🥰

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌 ! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

꒰ Arthur Morgan has his eyes on a certain hyper-feminine doll .꒱

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! Mary-Beth being a giant tease and a flirt to reader . hyper-feminine! reader . fem! reader . many pet names in use . awkward-written ending . quick luv stori . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below . reader has a dada and a mama . 2.3k words

the sounds of pearl tipped necklaces rattling together and ribbon-laced dresses ruffled in the precious spring breeze, paired with soft giggles and a nervous coo.

A stifled babble escapes her lips,

“Am I um.. even allowed to be here?” [name] meekly stammers. She holds onto her friends hand, her floral patterned dress was hitched slightly over her knees with her other hand, in reluctancy in which; to get her newly bought dress dirty from the ground they treaded upon.

She’s heard of people trespassing their gangs property, and much to her dismay— she may end up as dead as roadkill. A small shiver goes down [name]’s spine at the thought of that.

Mary-Beth had been wanting to show her a couple of her new books she’s bought in st. Denis— thus the excitement pouring from her aura as she drags her across the Van Der Linde’s property.

“Don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head off. I’ll just tell em’ yer with me. What could possibly go wrong?” She pats her shoulder with a reassuring smile. A slight grimace etched amongst [name]’s face as her bow-tipped shoe is coated with a bit of mud when she took another quiet step.

[name] doesn’t look convinced at all. The grip on her hand grows a bit tighter which signified her nerves playing in. Mary-Beth always teased her for being such a worry-wart.

“..Um, well, a lot actually.” [name] prattles on.

Mary-Beth rolls her eyes.

“Hush, now.”

She does what she’s told. To shut up in a non sugar-coated manner. The aroma of many boiled meat and vegetables in a pot comes hitting her nose as soon as she enters the area. She can’t help the little nose crunch as the smell hits too abruptly for her to even know. She’s about to question Mary-beth what that smell was—

“Ah! Mr. Pearson’s cooking again.”

[name] doesn’t know wether to ask her whom this Pearson guy was, or to stay quiet. She chooses the latter. A slight tilt to her head as her ribbon-tipped hair slightly falls down her shoulder out of habit when she’s confused.

This camp was interesting, she thought. [name] could only hope that there aren’t much people. She shyly hide behind Mary-Beth’s figure as they treaded closer to her spot in camp.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Unfortunately for [name], there was a certain amount of people that made her feel uncomfortable. She resists the urge to complain, biting her tongue to keep the words in. However, there were a few she’s met that she can’t help but admire. Karen and Tilly, their names were. Sweet girls they were, she deemed.

She sat upon a small patch of grass, her hands fiddling with a few strands of the everlasting green out of boredom, listening to Mary’s voice as she spoke.

In Mary-Beth’s hand adorns a romance-genre book, she’s reading the lines out loud. [name]’s cheeks become a darker hue at a certain line she verbally says— resulting to the both of them quietly giddily giggling.

“I cannot believe he’d actually do that to her,” Mary-beth comments as she fawns over the characters. [name] eagerly crawls towards her, re-reading the line she’s just read out.

“I thought he liked Sarah though?” [name] squeaked.

“Same!” Mary was far too happy to be able to share her love for books with another. She ends herself with a soft sigh, “I reckon he’ll leave her in a span of a click.”

“Mary?”

“Mhm?”

“Who.. Who’s that?”

This gets the girls attention. She quirks a brow, looking at the direction of [name]’s lithe finger. It’s not easy to hold back a smirk curling onto her lips.

“You pointin’ to that cowpoke over there?” Mary grins.

[name]’s doe eyes were practically planted with hearts, and she’s stammering like a tiny lamb, “I—I um.. uh.. I was just..”

“He was just starin’ at me, so I um.. nevermind—”

She cuts her off, “—His names Arthur,” Mary teases the sweetheart, “Lookit chu’!”

[name] could only shrink, “I.. shut up would you?”

“Whenever you swear it’s like looking at a yapping puppy.”

[name] fully turns around, the back of her head facing the burly cowpoke whom curiously stares at the pair of girls from afar.

“‘shut up’ is not a swear word, Mary-Beth!”

“Is so!” Mary-Beth argues back. She doesn’t mention the fact that Arthur’s slowly creeping up from behind.

“Shut up doesn’t have any implications of vulgar words now does it?” She puffs out her cheeks. Mary-beth can’t suppress the small smirk planted on her freckled face. The man stalks towards them closer, in a lazy manner.

“It so does! It’s considered rude and disrespectful— which is quite literally the definition of a curse word.” Closer.

“Mhm, even so it all really depends on context—” Closer.

“—Now how ‘bout you just caaalm down, sweetheart?” She drags the ‘a’ in calm to further on annoy her. Mary-Beth teases the dolled-up sweetheart, playing with her ribbons by twirling it around her finger.

[name] broods, huffing as she quiets down and crosses her arms like an itty-bitty brat. Goodness was she cute! Mary giggles.

Suddenly, the freckled-face darling stands up from her spot, eliciting a tiny ‘where you going?’ from [name].

“Just gonna get another book! I’ll be back in a second.” She cheekily trots away.

[name] could only tilt her head at her unusual behaviour.

Only for her to freeze up immediately at a quiet rumble of a man’s voice from behind—

“Mary-Beth’s been botherin’ you, I assume?”

[name] shyly turns her head around— wispy lashes fluttering as she stands up awkwardly to match his height— barely even. A whole foot taller than she was.

She fiddles with her fingers, before quietly nodding. It’s obvious to Arthur that she was a shy little thing. So with that information, he’s gentle in his approach, his tone is more softer.

“Got a name, little missy?” He asks. Oh, his voice.

“[name],” she shyly babbles. He was certainly NOT bad looking. She’s so, so so shy. “And you are..?”

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

Despite already knowing his name, she can’t help but admire how his southern drawl drags.

“‘s nice to meet you, mister Morgan,” She meekly says.

“Just Arthur.”

“Oh- sorry.” She stammers.

Arthur can’t help the lazy grin on his face.

“No need to be sorry,” He hums. “Mary-Beth’s friend?”

“Best friend,” She corrects him with a tiny smile.

“Ah.” Despite the silence that continued on, it was somehow comforting around them. Guess his dim tone and sweet intentions made her feel like a comforted little bunny snuggled inside a warm burberry blanket.

Arthur’s eyes size her up and down. He doesn’t comment her shyness, rather her appearance. It was like looking at a live porcelain doll.

He can’t help but question, “You from Saint Denis, lil’ - missy?”

That pet name makes her shy.

“Mhm,” She fully looks at him. She has to tilt her head just to look at him. Her hands were behind her back, and she rocks on her platforms.

“Mm.. Figured.”

“Oh? How so?” She curiously quirks a brow.

He doesn’t hesitate to answer. ��You look like a right tulip, missy.”

[name] almost lets out a soft giggle at his teasing. Her cheeks feel warmer, as do her nose and the tip of her dainty ears. A tulip?

“It’s the attire, is it not?” [name] leans back on the souls of her black bow platforms, tinkering those wispy lashes at him.

Gosh, what he’d do to just.. kiss those squishy cheeks of hers.

“Mhm. ‘S all frilly and.. so..” Arthur trails on. He mindlessly fiddles with the folded gossamer lines attached to her light pink dress. She allows him to, can’t help but also allow his scent to invade her nose— smoke and.. gunpowder. A large cry from her sweet vanilla scented perfume sprayed on her neck.

They’re both cut off by Mary-Beth strolling in with her other books. That cheeky, little smile she sent to Arthur makes a vein pop in [name]’s head, realising why she left so quickly.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

It was her second time visiting the camp-site.

From her previous experience, she figured that it wasn’t all that bad.. just ignore some folks.

[name] adorns a pink puff-sleeved ruffled dress with a simple pearl necklace— a bit similar to her previous outfit. From her giddy stance, it looked like she was waiting for Arthur, and not Mary-Beth.

Her smile even becomes brighter when she sees him nearby. And quite frankly, Mary-Beth has had enough of being answered with silence and shy eye-contact from afar. It was cute, yes, but it was becoming frustrating to bear.

“—And Johnathan allows her to wear his deceased wife’s ring! How absurd.” Mary-Beth squints her eyes at her response.

“Mhm,” [name] mindlessly hums, staring at Arthur.

“…He also ate a raw fish.” She tests.

“Mmm.”

“..He’s tap dancing.”

“That’s nice.”

She groans, poking the girl, “Are you even listening to what I’m saying right now?”

“Uhuh.” [name] unconsciously fiddles with the ends of her dress. She’s still staring at his direction. Doe eyes expand abnormally larger at the sight.

The girl in front of her droops. But pipes up again to get her attention.

“Arthur really likes flowers.”

That gets her attention. [name] immediately whips her pixie-sized head towards her with a tiny ‘ooh?’ Just the mere mention of his name makes her tummy flutter and giddy.

“You’re a real sucker for him ain’t ya?” Mary coos and giggles, nudging her small arm.

[name] shyly shrugs, “H—He’s nice m’kay? I can’t help it, I like nice guys..”

“To you,” She continues, “To you, he’s nice. To others he’s an absolute.. menace.”

“I’m thinking.. He has a real soft spot for ya,” She winks.

[name] could only scoff, “We’ve only met once, ‘Bethy.”

“He’s a real sucker for them frills and bows. He sees a pretty girl like you and he’s all lamb-like. Stumbly on the legs and stuttery on the mouth.” Mary teases, “And your one pretty girl, [name].”

“You think I’m pretty?” [name] sweetly swoons at her words.

“Darling, you’re quite literally the cutest girl i’ve ever met!”

“Marryyy…” [name] softly whines at her constant fawning, “You’re very pretty too, y’know.”

“Huuush,” Mary-Beth giggles and smooches her cheek. Sweet girls.

Suddenly, that cheeky little grin comes crawling onto her face. [name] tilts her head, weary and meek. She’s up to something.

“..Wh..what?”

“Your boyfriend’s behind you.”

“Boyfriend??? Now, what in the world are you—” [name] suddenly becomes quiet as she turns her head around and makes eye contact with Arthur. He gives a shy smile to both of the ladies, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I’ll leave you two be~” Mary-Beth stands up and cheekily skips away.

Silence surrounded the two.

“Hi, Arthur.” It was like looking at two teenagers in a puppy love.

“Hello, [name].”

Her heart speeds up. She shyly looks down at the ground, unsure of what to say. Despite this being their second time interacting, she can’t help the meekness flooding in her system.

“I’m startin’ to wonder if yer clothes are strictly pink-only.” He gestures to her short little dress.

She giggles softly, “I do have a few non-pink clothing y’know.” [name] is comfortable enough to peer at him through those damn wispy lashes. Puckered lips, cherubic-like cheeks, and those puppy eyes.

“I wouldn’t believe that,” He lets out a bent arm towards her for her to take gently and stand up. [name] does so, standing to her full height with her pixie-like hands holding onto his arm like an elderly couple.

“Mind a stroll?” He asks with a gentle, soft tone.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” She pipes up.

And there they went off.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[name] was getting ready.

This time, she wasn’t there to visit Mary-Beth. She was here to visit Arthur.

More so because of his request of her to come back soon. If she were to be a puppy, her tail would be wagging as quickly as the speed of light. She was giddy at his request.

This was… the umpteenth time they’ve interacted with each other. Quite literally, everyone knew they’d get together sooner or later.

She adorns a white, cotton-like ruffled dress with a simple heart shaped necklace. On her head, she wore a pretty little bonnet.

As she approaches the location, she can’t help the sweet smile on her face as she sees Arthur coming towards her direction again. His hair was simple— a bit neater than before and his usual black vest outfit, with no grime or dirt anywhere.

“Hi,” She waves giddily.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He allows her tiny hands to come and place themselves near his bicep. He bends his elbow a bit near his figure to allow her come closer to his stature. He makes a mental note to be more careful around her. The bonnet on her head catches his attention.

He murmurs a soft ‘cute..’ underneath his breath, as he leads her away to take a little stroll around a pretty little meadow.

“How was your day, hm?” He asks.

“Good,” She shyly replies, “Daddy’s doing okay now. He’s not as sick as he was a week ago.” His heart softens.

“Ah. That’s good.”

“How about you? How was your day?” She asks with a glimmer in her eyes.

“Decent at best.” He replies with a slight grunt, gently pushing her away from a small puddle he can see that’s formed on the ground. Doesn’t want her shoes to get messed up from the dew-dropped floor. He’s genuinely thinking of just picking her up.

“How’s yer ma and yer pa doing?”

“Good and good,” She happily smiles, very happy that he’s asking about her family. Her doe eyes light up at a pretty pink wild flower, a smirk etched on Arthur’s face as he sees that cute little expression of hers.

A soft ‘huh.’ escapes his lips, he stops suddenly. Arthur’s blue eyes sizes her up and down, only realising just now—“You’re not wearing pink.”

[name] looks up at him, itty-bitty smile, “Told you I don’t have just pink coloured clothing.”

He snorts at her answer, “Damn brat, you are.”

“Your brat.”

“Yeah. My brat.”

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strrwbrrryjam · 7 months

Text

the lengths people in the rdr2 fandom will go to to justify someone else being the rat or that "micah didn't work alone" is astonishing

most of it really boils down to misogyny and racism which is sadly so common in the fandom but, god its still so dumbfounding

from the moment we meet micah, you can tell he isn't a good guy, he's antagonistic, he's racist, he's sexist, he's basically an awful fucking person, an obvious bad guy with little to no redeeming qualities about him

no one (except dutch) in the gang likes him, and for good reason, he's gross to the woman, he kills cain, he makes fun of jack and uses slurs against charles and lenny and javier, and the little good moments there are of him with other camp members he ruins pretty soon after because he is not a man that can hide his bigotry for even a minute

he's an awful fucking guy, and he's extremely greedy! he goes on and on and on about the blackwater money, to the point that arthur has an antagonistic line about him that "he (Micah) hasn't mentioned the blackwater money for a minute," (or at least something like that)

its obvious that he doesn't care about anyone in the gang except dutch, he sees all of them as a means to an end, and the same goes for dutch- dutch isn't nothing but a pawn to him, but he's only kind to dutch and on his goodside because if you suck up to the leader, it doesn't matter if the rest of the gang members don't like him, because they can't do nothing if dutch likes him

while i despise him, i will say that he is a very interesting character to talk about, as he is a man who will do anything and everything to benefit him, it doesn't matter who he hurts or kills along the way, he's only in it for himelf

so of course, if something better comes his way, say for instance... a huge pay out for bringing down one of americas most notorious gang, he will bring them down from the inside out.

i mean jesus fucking christ, if you go to his camp from the mission where you steal a carriage from the o'driscolls, you can find dutch van der linde's wanted poster at his camp! while it may not have been his plan at the start, there is evidence that he was at least thinking about turning in the van der linde gang, the pinkertons just dropped the opportunity into his lap

and really, people thinking that molly and abigail are the rat? do you people not think? do you have a brain in your head? I've even seen people think poor lenny was the rat, jesus christ

molly o'shea was not the rat, milton literally told arthur that they "shook her down a few times but never said a peep" and why in the world would he lie about that? if it was to protect molly, that would be stupid, because arthur asks him to clarify that it was "micah? not molly?" and milton literally rats micah out, gloating to him that micah was the real rat

yes molly confessed, but it wasnt an actual confession, it was the words of a desperate, heartbroken woman, who was so heartbroken that she wanted to die. people need to think for a second, and realise that molly o'shea is not fucking stupid. she knows that telling the gang that she runs with that telling them she ratted them out would be suicide.

"oh but what did she want to say to arthur those times, hm??? what do you have to say about that???" shut up shut up shut up, maybe what she wanted to tell him that the pinkertons were capturing and interrogating gang members individually because that's what they did to her!!! again, confessing to arthur would be straight-up suicide. he's the most loyal man in the gang, the third member of the gang, the old guard, he's one of the worst people in the gang to confess to being the rat too, and I don't care if people disagree with me, molly o'shea is a smart woman, it doesn't make sense for her to tell him that she was the rat, but it makes sense to tell him about what the pinkertons are doing!!

(she could have also been wanting to tell him that dutch has changed, or something like that as we don't truly know, given that she was interrupted, but again telling him that she was the rat doesn't make sense.)

and the people who think abigail is the rat are just, downright stupid.

people like to accuse abigail of being the rat for a lot of reasons, like, for instance, "abigail got away but hosea didn't." and man I laugh at these people.

hosea is an incredibly important member of the gang, he's the second in command, it may be called "van der linde gang" but it began when dutch and hosea joined. he, dutch and arthur are what makes up the old guard, so of course the pinkertons would be going for him and not the young woman who hasn't been in the gang long enough to truly make a name for herself, like dutch van der linde, hosea matthews and arthur morgan have.

its also the fact that because she hasn't made a name for herself, it could be the fact that the pinkertons dont even know who she is! sure, she may have been seen on jobs, but do you really think abigail would been seen on a lot of jobs when she has a kid she cares about with the gang? do you really think she would risk jack being an orphan, since his daddy dont want anything to do with him? do you really think shes that stupid???

shes also dressed in a way to disguise herself with the rest of the civilians in the saint denis!!! so even if she was at some point seen by the pinkertons, shes now wearing something that disguises who she is.

"oh but how did they capture hosea?" hosea is an old man with a chronic health condition, throughout the chapters of the game he goes on about how these are his last days, and he probably wont even survive the year, while abigail is a young, healthy woman who is reasonably fit, she could easily out run hosea and the pinkertons and easily disguise herself

and more importantly, do you really think hosea matthews wouldn't sacrifice himself for abigail? throughout the story, he speaks to john and abigail about leaving the gang, about taking jack and going to a safe space, and live their life without the threat of being downed by a gunshot wound? or having to move everytime they are discovered? its no place to raise a child, and hosea knows that

hosea is also right in saying that this gang is damned. that they cannot survive the year, and he's right, they don't. so why wouldn't hosea sacrifice himself for her? why wouldn't that make sense to you?

(i mean, i think i know why, because it is such a tragic thought to have, but the story of rdr2 is a tragedy.)

and to the people who think that lenny is the rat, but don't give any evidence or thought to it? think logically, man.

do you honestly think a black man in the 19th century would willingly talk to lawman? do you really think that?

all of this to say, its just so stupid the lengths people go to to try to make micah not the rat, or not the only rat, its just abysmal really

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 micah bell #micah bell #rdr2 dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde #rdr2 abigail roberts #abigail roberts #rdr2 molly o'shea #molly o'shea #rdr2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan #rdr2 hosea matthews #hosea matthews #strawberry speaks

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waitimcomingtoo · 2 years

Text

Some Light Voyeurism

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you’re mean and Peter likes that, so he stalks you while you’re on a date

Masterlist

“Did you guys check online and see who your lab partner is yet for Professor Lind’s class?”

“Not yet. Did you?” Peter asked Ned as he opened his laptop.

“Yeah. I’m with some dude named Michael Morbius. He sounds like a total doof wad.”

“Hey. That’s not nice.” Peter chuckled. “It’s says I’m with some girl named Y/n L/n.”

“Oh no. You got Y/n as a lab partner?” Neds eyes widened.

“Is that bad?” Peter worried.

“Dude, she’s like the most popular girl in school.“ MJ told him.

“Really? I didn’t realize popularity was still a thing in college.” Peter said, mostly to himself.

“It is. And she’s the face of it. Good luck man. That girl is gonna eat you alive.” Ned sighed and shook his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I heard that she’s a total bitch. She’s mean to everyone.” Ned whispered as he looked over his shoulder to where you and your group of friends were sitting.

“She’s never been mean to me.” MJ shrugged.

“That’s because you’re a girl. But I’ve seen her make men cry. Even professors.” Ned replied.

“Well I like her. She calls it like she sees it and doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit. I think it’s pretty cool actually.” MJ said in your defense.

“You’ll think it’s less cool when she bullies Peter into doing the whole project. You know how fragile Peter is. She’s gonna destroy him.” Ned whispered loudly.

“Oh no. The first project isn’t due for another two months. That means there’s a lot to do for it. How am I gonna survive two months with this girl?” Peter groaned.

“You’re not.” MJ snorted.

“It’s been nice knowing you, man.” Ned said and patted Peters back. Peter frowned and looked over his shoulder to get a better look at you. He leaned in a little so that he could hear what you and your friends were talking about. One of your friends was talking and he could see you rolling your eyes at her.

“I hate when girls say this but it’s so true for me. I’ve just always gotten along better with boys. You can even ask my mom. Like when I was little, all my friends were boys. It’s the same way now. I’ve always gotten along with them better than girls. Girls are so much drama, you know? And all they talk about is makeup and their clothes and their hair. Like, I would honestly much rather talk about the economic state of the world. But girls never want to talk about that. That’s why I honestly prefer boys.” Your friend, Gretchen, told your friend group. Peter could hear you let out a little groan before throwing on a fake smile.

“Hey Gretchen?” You asked.

“Yeah?” Gretchen answered.

“Can you shut the fuck the up?”

“What?” Gretchen laughed in shock.

“It’s just that nobody cares and you’re lying.” You shrugged. The girls at the table exchanged a look as Gretchen sputtered a few times.

“I’m not lying. You can literally ask my mom.”

“Why the fuck would I ask your mom?” You asked. “I don’t know her like that.”

“I’m not lying.” Gretchen laughed again as her face turned bright red.

“If you hate girls so much, then how come you’re sitting at a table full of girls right now? And how come I’ve never seen you talk to a guy? Name one guy friend you have.”

“Psh. Noah.” Gretchen said like it was obvious.

“Noah? Who’s Noah?” You laughed in surprise.

“He doesn’t go here. He’s my boy best friend. We like grew up together.” Gretchen answered as her eyes darted around.

“Well can I see a picture of this Noah?”

“I don’t have any.” Gretchen said quietly.

“Then pull up his Instagram.” You shrugged.

“He doesn’t have one. And honestly, I want to delete mine. Social media drains me.” Gretchen said and out a hand over her heart.

“How does social media drain you?” You laughed again. “I’ve seen you get kicked out of class three different times because you posted your BeReal during a lecture.”

“I’m different now. That was in the past.” Gretchen stated.

“That was this morning.” You reminded her.

“Whatever. This is why I don’t hang out with girls. Too much drama.” Gretchen scoffed and got up. She brushed past Peter, bumping his shoulder as she went. You made eye contact with Peter when she did this and gave him an apologetic smile. He turned bright red and smiled back, falling for you right then and there.

After school that day, Peter waited by the bus stop with his earbuds in. He noticed someone out of the corner of his eye and looked up just as a man approached him.

“Excuse me, young man. Do you speak Spanish?” The man asked Peter. Peter tensed up, always feeling anxious when he had to talk to strangers.

“Um, no.” Peter gulped.

“Me either.” The man replied. “Would you like to meet the mother of my children?”

“No thank you.” Peter smiled nervously.

“You seem really strong. Can I feel your bicep?” The man asked and reached out to touch Peter. Before the man could touch him, you approached by Peters side.

“Hey. Are you ready to go?” You asked and linked your arm through Peters.

“Yeah. Excuse me, sir. I have to go.” Peter immediately went along with whatever you were doing and walked away with you. You kept your arm linked through his until you made your way to the next bus stop a block away.

“Thanks for that. I never know what to say to strangers.” Peter thanked you once you were at the next stop.

“No problem. Girls have to stick with girls, right?” You said with a kind smile.

“I’m not a girl.” Peter told you, making your smile drop.

“Oh my god. I thought you were a lesbian. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I honestly get that a lot.” Peter admitted, making you laugh.

“I think it’s the jacket. And the haircut.” You told him through a laugh.

“Oh.” Peter laughed in embarrassment and looked down at his jacket.

“Dude, it’s not a bad thing. Lesbians literally rule the world.” You told him with the upmost sincerity.

“Thats true.” He said with a soft smile. You looked at each other for a moment until your eyes drifted behind him.

“Hold that thought. What the fuck are you looking at?” You asked angrily. Peter turned around and saw a guy staring at you like you were something to eat.

“You. Have I see you before?” The man asked as he walked towards you. You wrapped your arm around Peters again and took a step back.

“How would I know who you’ve seen before?”

“I think I would’ve remembered a face like.” The man flirted, making you gag a little.

“So then your original question was pointless and you wasted our time.” You stated, making Peter hold back a laugh.

“You have a little attitude, don’t you? I like that.” The man smiled and took a step closer to you.

“Excuse me for a second. Some men were born without the ability to take a hint.” You said to Peter before turning back to the man.

“Look dude, no one ever fell in love with the balding loser who hit on them at the bus stop. I was standing here, having conversation with someone when you interrupted. Nothing about my body language made it seem like I was open to you coming over here to speaking to me. I’m not interested in or your wispy little mustache. In fact, I could probably grow a better one myself.”

“Uh, what?” The man laughed in confusion.

“Honestly, I’m not sure why you haven’t walked away yet. Because what do you have to offer me other than the juice stain around your mouth and a low credit score?” You asked with a shrug.

“Damn. You could’ve just said you weren’t interested.” The man grumbled.

“And you could’ve minded your business and never come up to me in the first place. Have you ever noticed that most women stand behind the pillars at the train station or against the wall at bus stops? It’s because they don’t want to be seen by men like you for their own safety. So you staring at me like I’m the next girl you’re gonna skin and eat is not appreciated.”

“I should’ve known you and your lesbian friend were a bunch of crazy feminists.” The man scoffed and looked between you and Peter.

“The craziest. Now fuck off.” Peter stated. The man rolled his eyes at you and finally left you alone.

“Peter Parker. That was unexpectedly awesome.” You turned to him with a smile once the man was gone.

“You know my name?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“Of course I do, lab partner.” You said with a wink. Before Peter could respond, the bus pulled up. Peter sighed a little in disappointment as the doors to the bus opened.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.” You called as Peter went up the steps of the bus.

“See you tomorrow.” Peter smiled as the doors shut.

When tomorrow came, Peter spent his lunch period staring at you with a dreamy smile on his face.

“You were wrong about Y/n. She’s really cool.” Peter sighed happily and rested his chin on his hand. Ned turned around to see what Peter was looking at, which was you on the phone with your manager.

“I need you to come in tonight to cover Brian’s shift.” You manger said over the phone.

“Can’t. I have plans.” You told him.

“You have to. We have no one else working. Jenny was gonna do it but she pulled out.”

“Your dad should’ve pulled out.” You said before hanging up.

“Is she?” Ned asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Shut up. I love her.” Peter stated.

“Love her? You spoke to her for the first time yesterday.” Ned reminded him.

“Yes, and that was all it took.” Peter said simply.

“I don’t know dude. She’s mean.” Ned pointed out.

“Yeah, but in a hot way.” Peter insisted and went back to staring at you. He didn’t mean to, but he could hear your conversation and with his enhanced hearing.

“You’re meeting Danny’s parents tonight, right?” One of your friends asked you, making Peter frown.

“Yep. It’s my first time meeting them. I’m kinda nervous.” You told your friends.

“Who’s Danny?” Peter asked Ned.

“You mean Danny Fenton? Her boyfriend?” Ned asked.

“What? She has a boyfriend?” Peters face crumpled as he looked at you again.

“I don’t think they’ve been together long. Just a few weeks maybe. But he’s super popular.”

“He’s popular too? Since when are people popular in college?” Peter grumbled. He got an idea suddenly and his expression went from upset to intrigued.

“Oh no. What are you thinking about?” Ned asked him.

“I was just thinking that I don’t know much about this Danny guy. Maybe Spiderman should visit her on her date to make sure he’s safe.” Peter shrugged.

“Peter. No. No more stalking. We’re still not allowed back on the street Taylor Swift lives on.” Ned reminded him.

“This won’t be like that time. And we were barely stalking Taylor.” Peter insisted.

“Peter, no.” Ned whined. Peter looked at you again and felt his heart ache with how much he wanted you.

“Peter yes.” Peter decided.

That night, Peter found himself perched in a tree outside of Daniel Fenton’s house. He was dressed in his suit and watching you through Danny’s window. You were sitting down at the dinning room table with Danny’s parents and Peter could hear your heart beating with anxiety. Peter pulled his mask off so that he could get a better look but already didn’t like was he was seeing.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Peter grumbled as he got comfortable in the tree.

“Well.” Danny’s mother smiled sweetly as you and gestured to the casserole sitting in a dish in the center of the table.

“Well?” You repeated in confusion.

“Sweetheart, Danny is waiting.” She said and looked at the casserole again.

“For what?”

“For you to make him a plate.” She said like it was obvious. Peter saw your face go from a polite smile to having murder behind your eyes.

“The food is on the table in front is us. I think he can make himself a plate.” You laughed awkwardly and looked around for support. To your surprise, everyone was looking at like you were the crazy one.

“Yes. But you’re his girlfriend. It’s what girlfriends do.” The mother repeated as her smile shifted to a stern look.

“It’s not what I do.” You smiled sweetly in return as your eyes shot daggers at her.

“It is now.” She said sternly. “Make Danny a plate of food. Now, please. He’s hungry.”

“Yeah, babe. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Can you just get me some food? It’s not that hard. Damn.” Danny mumbled. Your head slowly turned to look at him as you sickly sweet smile never dropped. Peter let out an excited laugh and watched closer to see what your reaction would be.

“If it’s not that hard, do it yourself.” You’re said, batting your eyelashes at him while maintaining your poise.

“I just sat down. Come on. I’m starving.” Danny whined and held his plate out to you. You looked at the mom again, who was looking at you with disproval.

“He’s starving.” His mom repeated and handed you the spoon for the casserole. Your smile dropped as you took the spoon from her.

“So why don’t you get off your ass and go get some food?” You said loudly and looked at Danny.

“Do not raise your voice at my son.” The mother snapped at you.

“Don’t raise your voice at me. Or we’re gonna have a problem Debby.” You snapped back and pointed the spoon at her. Debby looked down at the spoon before slowly looking up at you.

“Sweetheart, please. Don’t be difficult. Can you just go make my baby a plate?” Debby asked with a falsely calm voice.

“Your “baby” is a grown ass man. If he’s hungry, he can get food himself.”

“You are his girlfriend. It is your job now.”

“He’s not a helpless little baby. He can is perfectly capable and picking up the spoon and serving himself some food.”

“Make him a plate or get out of this house.” Debby said in a low voice. You stared at her for a long time as every else at the table sat in silence. Peter was on the edge of his branch, eager to see how this would play out. Finally, you held out the spoon in front of you and dropped it as if it were a microphone. Debby and the rest of his family gasped as a smile tugged at your lips.

“All right, bye.” You smiled at them all before turning to leave.

“I’ll call you!” Danny called after you.

“Don’t!” You called back in a cheery tone. Peter couldn’t see you as you walked through the house but suddenly saw the front door open.

“Oh shit. She’s coming.” Peter whispered in fear. He went to scoot back, forgetting he was in a tree. He fell out of the tree with a loud thud, landing directly in front of you. You stopped walking and gasped as Peter rolled over with a loud groan.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” You asked and helped Peter get off the ground. He had landed face down, so you had only seen the Spiderman suit and the back of his head so far.

“What? Me? Yeah. I’m fine.” Peter shrugged it off like he wasn’t aching in pain all over his body. Your expression when from concerned to shocked when you looked into his eyes.

“Peter?” You whispered in disbelief. Peters eyes widened as he reached up and touched his bare face.

“No. Not Peter. I’m his cousin. Pe…nis.” Peter stammered weakly.

“Oh, okay.” You cracked a smile. “Hey Penis. What’s up?”

Peter shut his eyes in embarrassment and shook his head, knowing he just messed up big time. Meanwhile, you bent down and picked up his mask before handing it to him.

“Thanks.” He smiled weakly.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled back. “Come on. Walk me to my car.”

Peter slipped his mask back on and walked beside you as the two of you made your way towards your car. You were being oddly normal about finding out his identity and it made Peter even more anxious. You reached your car and your gestured for him to get in the passenger seat, which Peter complied.

“This is a really nice Prius.” Peter said once you were inside.

“I know.” You deadpanned, making Peter gulp in fear.

“You can take your mask off. No one can see you in here.” You said in a soft tone. Peter nodded his head before tugging his mask off again. You looked him up and down for a second before smiling.

“Were you up in that tree?” You asked him and pointed to the tree outside Danny’s house.

“No.” Peter lied quickly.

“There’s a branch in your hair.” You pointed out.

“It’s to keep my bangs off my forehead.”

“Oh. I usually use a headband for that.”

“I lost mine so.” Peter shrugged and looked away, making you laugh. He relaxed a little when he heard you laughing and settled into your passenger seat.

“So you used a branch from the tree outside my boyfriends house? Makes sense.” You nodded.

“Yeah. He has really good branches for that type of thing.” Peter said, knowing you didn’t believe him.

“I’m sure he does. But I also saw you fall out of said tree, so I’m thinking maybe you’re not telling me the whole truth.” You smiled teasingly, making Peter shrink down in his seat and covered his face.

“Right. Forgot about that.” Peter mumbled in embarrassment.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Were you stalking me?” You asked in a casual tone. Peter knew he was already caught and had no use lying.

“A little.” He admitted.

“Just a little? So not fully stalking?” You asked sarcastically, making him groan.

“No. Not fully stalking. Just some light voyeurism.”

“Aw. Peter.” You chuckled. “You don’t know what that word means, do you?”

“Yes I do. It means to watch somebody through their window.” Peter insisted.

“No, honey. It doesn’t.” You smiled sympathetically and shook your head.

“Yes it does.” Peter frowned and pulled out his phone. He googled the word quickly and felt his stomach drop when he read what it actually meant.

“So it turns out I didn’t know what that word meant.” Peter said simply, making you laugh again.

“I figured.” You shrugged. Peter looked at you for a minute, wondering why you weren’t more freaking out about what was happening. You just caught him stalking your date in his Spiderman suit and yet you seemed completely unfazed.

“So, you probably have a lot of questions.” Peter said and looked down at his suit.

“Eh. Not really.” You shrugged. “I’m assuming you developed a crush on me after our encounter at the bus stop and wanted to see what I was doing.”

“Well, yeah. But the suit and the tree? That doesn’t concern you?”

“I’m not really shocked by that either. I’ve seen you scale fences without touching them. And the only times Spiderman has been spotted outside New York was Washington DC during the decathlon tournament, a team which you or a part of. And in Europe while we were on a school trip there. A school trip you were always mysteriously missing from.”

“Damn. You peeled the onion all the way to the middle didn’t you?” Peter mumbled when he realized you had him completely figured out.

“It’s okay. Don’t feel bad. It was only a hunch that you were Spiderman until I watched you fall out of a tree in front of my boyfriends house dressed in the literal Spiderman suit.”

“That’s pretty much a dead giveaway, huh?” Peter laughed a little.

“Pretty much.” You scrunched your nose and nodded. You gave one last look at Danny’s house before starting your car and driving away.

“So did you hear any of that back there?” You asked Peter.

“Yes. All of it. I was up there for a while.” Peter admitted.

“I’m worried about what you constitute as full stalking.” You laughed when you remembered Peter had told you he was only doing some “light voyeurism”.

“Okay, maybe I was fully stalking you. Maybe. But you’ve been on my mind ever since the bus stop and I wanted to see what your stupid boyfriend looked like.” Peter shrugged, making you laugh again. You liked the chemistry between you and Peter and took the long way home just to spend more time with him.

“And what did you think now that you’ve seen him?”

“I think that your stupid boyfriend is also your stupid ugly boyfriend.” Peter mumbled.

“Well after tonight, I can assure you that he’s not my boyfriend anymore.” You looked over your shoulder at him with a smile.

“Well that’s good news.” Peter returned the smile. You looked back at the road again but kept your smile on. You stopped at a red light and Peter looked over at you just to admire the way you looked under the street lights.

“Just so you know, my mom is super dead. So she would never ask you to make me a plate of food.” Peter told you. You burst out laughing and playfully hit him in the chest.

“Good. Because I would never make you one. And I would fight your dead mom if she tried to make me.” You deadpanned, making Peter smile at your shared sense of humor.

“I bet she’d really enjoy that fight. In fact, I know she’d really like you. She was a bitch too.” Peter told you, smile instantly dropping when he realized what he had said.

“You think I’m a bitch?” You gasped playfully but looked honored.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Peter said quickly. “I mean, I did. But I didn’t mean for it to sound mean. I just mean you speak your mind and stand up for yourself and I really like that. My mom was the same way. She didn’t take shit from anybody. You reminded me of her back there at Danny’s house. At the bus stop too. I think….I think she would’ve loved you.”

You pulled in front of your apartment building just then and unbuckled your seatbelt so that you could turn to look at Peter. He was worried he had just said way too much, after all he did just compare a girl he barely knew to his dead mother, but you were once again unfazed. You gave him a soft smile before reaching over to take his hand.

“Thanks for saying all of that. Sounds like it’s an honor to be compared to her.” You said and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah. She was a pretty cool lady.” Peter smiled sadly and looked down at your intertwined hands.

“So you like that I’m mean to people and I remind you of your mom? Sounds like you’ve got some kinks just begging to be discovered.” You said and clicked your tongue.

“Don’t forget the light voyeurism.” Peter sighed.

“Who could forget that?” You chuckled. You looked at each other for moment until Peter frowned.

“If you have a car, why were you at the bus stop?” He wondered.

“I wasn’t at the bus stop. I was walking past the bus stop when I saw you needed help. Did you see me get on the bus, dumbass?” You asked him angrily before cracking a smile. Peter smiled too when he realized you were just joking.

“Do you think I could take you on a date? To make up for the one you just walked out of?” Peter used all his courage to ask.

“I mean, I never actually ate tonight. And unless you had snacks up in that tree, I’m guessing you didn’t either. We could go somewhere now.” You suggested, surprisingly looking just as vulnerable as Peter did.

“Want to go get pizza or something? There’s a place a few blocks from here that makes really good pineapple pizza.”

“Pineapple pizza is an abhorrent crime against humanity.” You said calmly.

“That’s just not true.”

“You can’t put a sweet fruit on something savory like a hot pizza.”

“Yes you can. People do it all the time.”

“They should stop.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“You need to open your heart to the wonderful world of pineapple on pizza. Have you ever even tried it?”

“I don’t need to try it to know that it’s disgusting.”

“Yes you do!” Peter laughed. “You can’t say it’s gross if you’ve never even tried it.”

“Okay. Well sorry for having great tits and a right opinion.” You mumbled and went to start your car again. You pulled the keys out of the ignition suddenly and looked over at Peter.

“I don’t want to drive to the pizza place.” You told him.

“Oh, okay. We could get something else.”

“No, I mean I want to walk there.”

“Oh. Why?” Peter wondered.

“Because you can’t hold my hand if we drive there.” You said through a shy smile.

“I mean, I technically could. You could just hold my hand with the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel.” Peter explained, causing you to stare at him for a long time.

“Hey Peter?�� You asked after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to shut the fuck up and hold my hand?” You asked sweetly.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “I really do.”

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