What’s your favorite headcanon that you have for a rdr2 character? Have you incorporated it into your writing before?
Ooh excellent question
bmI have headcanons regarding Charles' parents. I haven't written either of these yet but I would like to incorporate them eventually
This one is a little vague as it's still a rough idea but:
I believe Charles' mother is still alive, living on the reservation the US army took her to. For some reason or another in later years, a group of those living there decide to flee to Canada and are offered refuge by the Wapiti people.
After leaving Beechers Hope 1907, Charles travels North to Canada, he calls in on the Wapitis to see how they are getting on…and is shocked to see his mother - exactly how he remembers her, just a little older.
As for Charles' father; and I'm aware its a bit far-fetched, but look at this pic of baby Charles and his family….and then this one of Samson Fitch
(Yes I know they are not the same person but I just want to bend canon a little 😂)
WhiIe Samson gives out the Low honour missions online, he is an honest man and is more than aware he has done some bad things in his life (sound familiar?)
I ain’t gonna lie to you. Truth is I’m a bad bastard. I lived my way.. but I stuck to my word and did what I said I would. Especially to them as stuck by me
After-Heist Delight (RDO Fanfic, Samson Finch x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: After a bank heist that left your blood pumping and adrenaline rushing, you wonder if you’ll ever feel this high again any time soon. As you look at your partner in crime, you realize, with a twinkle in his eye, that you just might.
Author’s Notes: My dear @mrscharlessmith requested a little somethin’ somethin’ for a character who flies below the radar: Samson Finch. I mean, come on, who doesn’t want a bad boy to rail you on a train car after a crazy bank heist, adrenaline pumping through your veins, his hips pumping against yours...
Tags: shameless smut, one face slap, dirty talk
Word Count: 1294
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You had just pulled off a brilliant bank heist and had escaped with your fellows by hopping onto a train, meeting your contact there, Samson Finch. He had passed around a flask and congratulated all of you for your efforts, and had thanked you personally for pulling this team together.
As your comrades whistled for their horses and hopped off once the train had made its way past the outskirts of the city, you stayed on, planning on getting off a little before the next town.
You also wanted to stick around with Samson for just a little while longer. He had been the mastermind behind the heist, giving you all the information that he had been gathering for the past year so you could get the job done. During this past week, you had pulled together a small posse and executed his plan. You also had become attracted to him, his voice, the way he carried himself, the way he commanded you to do his bidding. The thought of him commanding you in other ways set your desire on fire.
Walking down the flatcar towards the closest boxcar, you followed Samson, still holding his flask of whiskey. You took another swig, thinking about how his lips had just touched the same flask. You also thought about how you should keep your heated fantasies to yourself.
So lost in your thoughts, you bumped into him as he was opening the boxcar door.
“Careful there,” he said, taking the flask back from you. “Don’t want to fall off now that we’ve gotten away.” He twisted the cap back onto the flask and stored it in his bag.
Peering inside of the boxcar, the two of you found it to be full of crates on one side, bales of hay on the other. It was clearly the supply boxcar for livestock; perfect place to hide for the time being. Walking inside, you and Samson arranged a few hay bales, creating a makeshift cushion hidden behind a wall of other bales. He flopped down on his back, his arms behind his head, a satisfied smile on his face.
“Well, c’mere,” he said, nodding at the space next to him. He watched with calculating eyes as you tentatively sat down, a little away from him.
“What, don’t you trust me?”
“I do.”
Samson sat up. “You’re sitting so far away.” He scooted closer to you.
You swallowed as heat burned your cheeks. “Samson?” you squeaked.
He grinned. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you into his lap. “I think we should celebrate.”
Without giving you a chance to answer, he pushed you onto your back and spread your legs so he could rest himself between them. Grinding against you, he looked down at you smugly, knowing how much you craved his touch, given your gasps and moans.
“That’s it sweetheart. I’m not blind. I’ve seen you lookin’.” He got close and nibbled on your earlobe. “You want my thick cock, don’t you?”
You moaned louder.
Laughing darkly, Samson got up on his knees and started taking off your pants, tossing them away and not bothering to remove your drawers. Tearing the crotch seam open, he slipped his fingers between your folds and teased you.
“You get off to danger, huh?”
You writhed as you shook your head in denial. But your body betrayed you, growing more slick as he played with you.
“Unbutton your shirt, baby,” he commanded as he caressed your thigh, his fingers moving up and down, occasionally tapping your skin as he watched you reach up to the collar of your shirt. You began to undo each button, revealing your loose chemise, your nipples hard beneath the thin fabric. He grinned as he reached up and pulled your chemise down just far enough to expose your breasts. Grabbing one in each hand, he squeezed them lightly, pinching your sensitive buds before bending over to take one into his mouth.
“Oh, Samson,” you moaned as he pulled back to give the other one some attention, his hands wandering down to unbutton the fly of his pants. Grabbing your hand, he brought it closer to him. You quickly got the idea and reached inside, wrapping your hand around his thick cock. Moaning softly at your touch, his hips jerked forward.
“Stroke me,” he ordered.
Running your hand along his length, you pulled him out of his pants and finally got a good look. You took in a sharp breath; how would he fit inside of you?
Samson smirked as he took off his neckerchief, tied your wrists together, and placed them above your head. Taking a few moments to admire you, helpless underneath him, he spread your legs and kneeled between them. He slapped your pussy with his cock a few times before rocking his hips a little, sliding himself along your wet folds. He would glance up at you from time to time, a sexy know-it-all grin on his face.
Then he pressed the head of his member against your opening. He leaned forward, using his body weight to push himself inside of you. You stretched, almost painfully, to let him in. Taking deep breaths, you moved your arms to push at his chest.
He slapped your cheek, not hard, but it surprised you.
“Take it,” he growled, and pushed harder into you, until his hips were flush with yours. “So fucking tight.” Lifting his hips, he began to fuck you, a smug grin on his face as you cried out wordlessly, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Good girl, you know what’s good for you.”
Your hips moved up on their own, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor. His moans of pleasure grew deeper as he let himself crush you, pressing you into the hay bales. The wet sounds of flesh pounding against flesh along with your mewls of pleasure mixed with his feral grunting were the only sounds in the boxcar. You were sure that if someone were to come in, you would just lift your hips and let Samson keep fucking you, it felt so damn good.
Then you felt him reach between your bodies and stroke your pleasure center. All your nerves short circuited, your breath caught, and your body became tense. “Oh lord,” you moaned.
“C’mon girl,” he said. “Let go for me.”
You obeyed, the tidal wave of pure pleasure coursing through your body as you screamed. “Fuck, Samson, fuck,” you moaned mindlessly. You suddenly felt him grab your jaw and kiss you, stealing your breath as your climax began to ebb away, leaving you feeling wrung out and satisfied. As he continued his relentless pace, you started to squirm under him.
“Please, please, it’s too much,” you begged.
Touching your cheek, he smiled. “Stay still, baby,” he said as he lifted himself off you. Not moving, you watched him get up and kneel above your chest. He stroked himself, his mouth slightly open as he looked at you. “Fucking beautiful,” he growled as he came all over your chest and neck, dripping down your breasts, splattering your skin. “Covered in my spend, my beautiful girl.”
You smiled up at him. He untied you, using the neckerchief to clean you up. He put himself away as you buttoned your shirt and pulled your pants back on.
“I’ll certainly remember that fondly,” you said with a smirk as you sat up, leaning against one of the hay bales.
He shot a wry grin back at you. “Doesn’t have to be the last time,” he said as he stared intently at you. “Keep in touch. Maybe we can do this again.”
“What, rob a bank?”
He laughed. “Whatever you want to do, lady. Whatever you want.”
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End Notes: Just havin’ a little roll around in the hay. Thanks @mrscharlessmith for the lovely idea. And thank you for the picture too!
