Red Dead Redemption 2 Imagines

Arthur x Reader - Foreign

A/N: The reader isn't from America, and I'm not going to choose a specific country! Feel free to choose that one! Also, the reader is named as a woman, but feel free to change it as you see fit!

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You didn't know when they had taken you; boarded your boat and raided it, stealing everything they could, you unfortunately included. But what you did know is that coming to America was a rather bad idea on your part.

The O'driscolls, that's what they called themselves. They had taken, bound and gagged, beaten and touched you with no empathy or remorse. Were they going to kill you? You sure hoped that they would.

Laying in one of their tents, tears staining your cheeks as muffled whimpers fell on deaf ears. Blood stained your temple and framed your face, some splatters even found themselves on your once clean and pristine clothes, now torn with knife cuts and threats. You couldn't help but flinch at the slightest sound, the slightest movement. You were convinced this was hell, that you died back on that boat.

Then, suddenly, a hail of gunshots. The O'driscoll that was sat in the tent with you reached for his gun, stiffening in what you presumed to be anticipation rather than fear.

Bastard.

Yells and gunshots died down, the flashes from the guns dying out. You lay in a heavy, unnerving silence for what felt like days. Footsteps approached the tent, your heart began pumping like a tiny machine as the shadow of boots cast itself beneath the inch of space between the tent cloth and the dirt floor.

The man beside you aimed steadily. Silence. Silence.  Si- BANG.

You flinched a mighty (is that the word?) flinch as the man beside you collapsed. The tent opening was ripped open, the barrel aimed down at you just as quickly as the bullet ripped through the material of the tent and struck the O'driscoll, but then the man behind it paused.

"Oh shit." His gruff voice spoke in surprise as he quickly holstered his six shooter and knelt down, grabbing his hunting knife. "There's someone in here!"

"There's what?" Another unfamiliar voice yelled in reply from what was, probably, a few tents down from yours... not that you had actually seen the camp all that much yourself.

"A woman! The bastards had a woman here!" He cut your hands free from behind your back and then tore the gag from your mouth. He went for your ankles, pulling back as you shuffled away from him.

He raised both hands, the knife not at all helping, and lowered his voice, "Miss, it's fine. You're safe. We're here to take out the O'driscolls, and now to help you. I ain't gonna hurt you." His attempt at soothing, although with his naturally gruff voice, was oddly calming. "What's your name?"

"(Y-Y/N)."

"I'm Arthur." He glanced to your bound ankles, "Let's get you out of here."

Easing slightly, you allowed Arthur to cut your ankles free. He sheathed his knife and then reached out, gently placing his hands on your sides to give you aid as you stood. When you flinched, a small frown formed on his lips.

"It's okay, (Y/N). Where do you live?" He wrapped an arm around your torso and allowed you to lean into him if you so wished.

His question weighed tonnes. It was so incredibly simple, yet you had absolutely no answer, false or otherwise. It only made things worse, and you abruptly burst into tears yet again.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't... I-I... I don't have anywhere.."

"What do you mean you don't have anywhere? Did they burn it down?"