#Hosea/chubby!reader

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Dark Hedges

Hey, y'all...I've been watching a lot of Bridgerton lately....and I want to do a Bridgerton x Arthur story....you can't stop me...

It's been a minute, please, bare with me.

Warnings: Innuendos, suggestive language, pining, flirting, 'forbidden' love, chubby reader, chubby arthur (i had to im sorry)

I am so excited lets GO!

You sigh to yourself, walking through the garden of Lady Danbury's estate, letting your hands graze over the tops of the many flowers and shrubs lining either side of you.

It was the beginning of the new Season, and you, are out on what, you think, is your 3rd one.

You weren't sure, it could have been your 4th, you kind of stopped caring.

You were, for a lack of better words, 2 sizes too big, which many, many men of the Ton in Mayfair did not seem to enjoy women of...a bigger size.

There were a few attractive men at the ball, it wasn't a lack of them, that's for aure, but not a one of them had asked you to dance, or talked to you in general. Your dance card was completely empty.

You hum quietly, and make it to a clearing, finding a small bench and take a seat, cursing this stupid ball and wishing desperately that you had a book.

Arthur leaned over the railing of the small balcony, drinking the last of his champagne, upsettingly, it still didn't taste like Whiskey, no matter how much he tried to will it into existance.

He grunted softly, placing the empty champagne glass on the floor next to his feet before he pulled a cigar from his suit pocket and lit it, feeling older than he was.

Quite frankly, he hated coming to these things, and he still didn't understand why he kept coming to them. Well...this one is different. Lady Danbury was an old family friend and she all but demanded his presence at every opening season. Since his...what would she even be labled? His failed courtship, Mary, she's been trying to get him back out in the season.

That and Hosea and Dutch forced him to come. They always wanted him to.

Arthur rubs his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the headache he could feel coming on

He looks up, and pulls the cigar from his lips, billowing out smoke as he flicks the ashes off the side of the balcony. Looking out to the garden below.

He notices, just barely, in the harsh lighting from the moon, a woman sitting below on a stone bench, looking around, fiddling with her hands.

Her dress was absolutely goregous. Flaired at the bottom, not like the other women in the seaons pickings, it was more like a ball gown than some...well, whatever the other dresses were called.

He couldn't make out features of her face from here, but she seemed to have a nice facial shape.

He sighed and tried to go back to minding his own business...but he couldn't really manage it for some reason....

You kick a small pebble as you swing your feet, sitting on the bench, watching it roll away slightly. You were surprised that your mother had yet to come find you.

You groan to yourself, bored out of your mind, and stand, walking in a circle, looking at a small fountain, the running water a soothing sound at least.

You look down into the water, Lady Danbury has apparently added Koi into the fountain.

You smile softly and sit on the side of the fountain, dipping a finger into the water.

"Miss?" A voice cuts through the darkness and silence, a southern twang to it.

You turn your head to the sound of the voice and quickly stand.

"Hello sir.." your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to, taking in his apperance...

He was a handsome man, that was for sure. Brownish, dirty blonde hair, cut short in a stylish fade, and a thick stubble lining his strong jawline. You couldn't see that well but he had....kind eyes? Scrutinizing eyes? You weren't sure what emotion he conveyed with them.

"Duke Morgan." He smiles charmingly, a lopsided grin, with a chipped tooth that only added to the charm.

"Lady L/N." You find yourself smiling back, giving a small cursty.

"Please, please, relax." He chuckles, it's a warm sound. "No need for formalities, not out here. In fact I'd prefer you call me Arthur."

You think for a moment, debating if you should give your first name or not...

"Y/N."

He smiles at you again and gestures to the fountain.

"You mind if I join you?"

"Please do."

Arthur joins you happily, taking a seat next to you, looking into the water himself.

"Any particular reason you're out here all alone instead of inside enjoyin' the party?"

He asks softly.

"My third...maybe fourth season? I'm not too worried about finding a husband, I've accepted my old maid days."

Arthur offers a quiet chuckle at your joke and dips his own fingers into the water of the fountain you both inhabit.

"Ah, Third, Fourth...does it really matter? You'll find someone when it's the right time, I always thought these seasons were stupid. I mean, wouldn't you wanna marry for someone you love, not just because it's mandatory?"

He shrugs.

"I'm here cause Lady Danbury is a close family friend." He stifles a chuckle. "I think I'm her favorite."

You laugh, and cover your mouth, which only seems to make him smile wider.

"Lady Danbury doesn't have favorites, she has people she prefers to pick on more than others." You smile.

Arthur chuckles softly, and looks at you for a moment, scrutinizing you, though it seems...in a kind way.

"Why is it that you haven't married?"

You blink for a moment, thinking.

"I guess because men don't like me." You pause. "I'm a little bit on the bigger side...you know? My dance card is always empty." You lift your arm, the empty dance card hanging limply at your wrist.

"So what if you're a bit bigger? I'm bigger too."

"Yes, but you're a man, it isn't as forbidden." You laugh. "Women, though, being my size is something that makes people believe I'm disgusting and not worth it. It makes them think I'm dirty."

"Dirty?"

"It's a stigma, being fat instantly means you can't clean yourself properly. I don't know. I'm avoided most days."

He hums and looks you over.

"Men must truly be fools, I can't imagine any man looking you over, and deciding that they want nothing to do with you."

You can feel your face growing warm with the praise and you try to avoid his gaze.

"I'm sorry Miss L/N, was that...a blush?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about Your Grace."

Arthur gives a heartly laugh and smiles as he looks you, leaning backwards a little, resting his weight against his left palm.

"I like you."

He states simply.

"You're fun, and far less...pompous than the other women I see every season."

"Well...thank you." You smile. "It's nice to be complimented rather than being ignored I suppose"

"No one deserves to be ignored." He states softly. "I know what that's like, you know? My family...I say family loosely, I get treated like an errand boy, and then my needs are ignored. I don't typically tell people my problems, I'm used to being ignored."

You can feel your face scrunch up.

"You're a Duke...you shouldn't be treated like that." You mutter.

"Ah, Duke status isn't all it's cracked up to be." He hums. "It's got it's perks that's for sure, but, family doesn't care."

You think for a moment, sitting in silence next to this man who, you can only call a stranger, and watch the water.

"You can tell me." You state softly. "Your problems I mean. I'm some stranger you most likely won't see again, you can tell me."

He seems to ponder it quietly before he mumbles something you can't quite hear under his breath.

"My problems....I..shit-" He pauses and offers you an apologetic look for the curse. "I guess that it's been such a long time I honestly don't know what my problem is."

"No love life? No...estate problems?"

"Hmm...Love life? Haven't had much of one, the last woman I was with...I don't even know what it would be, a failed courtship? Which never sounds good...and she.....She wasn't...Things didn't go as well as I'd hoped they would..."

He clears his throat and looks towards the ground.

"I guess she is the cause of a lotta problems. Self-esteem..." He pauses. "..Sound kinda pathetic, yeah?" He gave a quiet sort of self deprecating laugh.

"...No. Not at all. It's not pathetic. Love is tough and love really sort of..." You pause, trying to think. "It derails a lot. Your life, your other relationships. I get it."

Arthur gives a quiet smile.

"Thanks, you know, it's stupid. I know, but...I actually really appreciate you listening. I'm sure there's...god knows how many other problems with me."

He chortles.

You stand, wanting to stretch your legs.

"It's okay Arthur...I like listening. I'm more a listener than a talker anyway." You smile and try to turn to face him better.

Though you quickly find yourself slipping on one of the wet concrete beneath you, due to your fast spin and, surprisingly slippery water.

You accept your fate, looking down as the water of the fountain grows closer, until you feel a warm arm around your waist.

Arthur pulls you in, saving you from falling face first into the water.

"Woah! Careful there Sweetpea, you don't wanna ruin that dress. It's awful pretty." He chuckles softly, and you can hear your breath hitch as you recognize how close he is.

He's...warm. A lot softer than you expected, and he smells....delicious. Cigar smoke and...leather?

You look at his face and that smirk slowly fades from his face as he seems to meet your eyes with some kind of awe.

The two of you are silent for a moment, just staring at one another, breathing quietly.

You clear your throat and pull away from him, standing and patting your dress clean.

"Ahm....Thank you, Arthur. Wouldn't have been that great for me to fall in..."

He nods and you remain silent for a moment, a warmth threading through your skin, and a strange hiccupping in your breathing.

"You alright there Miss L/N?" Arthur asks and stands, reaching out towards you. "You're awfully red in the face..."

"I'm...fine I..." You swallow. "Um...I...I need to go, I think, before my mother comes searching and sees me unchaperoned with a man."

You give a smile, but you're sure that it doesn't quite convince him, but he doesn't really try to contradict you. You give a soft curtsy and find yourself nearly running back to the dance in Lady Danbury's ball.

For some reason there was a strange feeling in your chest, you couldn't place it, but you knew you wanted to spend more time with that man, but you were honestly afraid of what you might do if you were alone with him.

Something about him was alluring. You didn't talk long...but it felt...important that you met him and that...you hopefully...saw him again...

Guys, if you want me to continue this I'd love to, I know this might not be to the BEST of my writing abilities but school is kicking my ass right now with finals (and graduation eventually), so I do hope you guys like it a little....

[cloggedarteri]

i love hosea with every fiber of my being

i love him so much that i think he deserves to have a chubby outlaw whos grizzled and slightly greyed waiting on his arm👀

♡reader who's a former van der linde gang member

♡you met the two outlaws fairly early, perhaps a month or two following the fated "campfire robbery" that led to the inception of the gang we know now. it wasnt glamourous, your meeting with them. in fact, had it not been for the attempted robbery of the kind barman that for some reason tolerated you, dutch and hosea would have mistaken you for another sloppy drooling fool lost in his cups. and to be fair, their assessment of you wasnt wrong, but you proved to be a capable shot

♡so for about 2 years, you'd play as 'the muscle', that is until 1877 roles by and with it came a lost young man by the name arthur morgan—you love that boy, you really do. but until then you three continued on the only way you knew how—lie, cheat, steal, the usual outlaw business. and its nice working with the two, you have to admit. you got two sets of eyes watching your back, the food is bland but warm, and you have a purpose you suppose...the whole robin hood shtick is noble enough though on the best of days you couldnt give a damn about 'saving others'

♡but hosea was...nice. probably nicer than you'd deserved but you reveled in the time he'd spent with you. he read to you, ya know. he read aloud to you during your watches and he'd lean his head upon your shoulder when you'd inch yourself closer to his heat...he'd take your hand without hesitation when you'd brush your pinkie against his....its almost laughable how easy id been for hosea to stake a claim to your heart just by giving you a morsel of companionship youve been deprived of for years...but it was nice all the same.

♡but then hosea found bessie and oh did he fall hard. he found a good women in her, a good loving women who's more than capable of expressing the thoughts that consumed her, wants and dreams...she wasnt like you who was paralyses by the fear of the unknown. you are a vicitm of your own inaction...and the only thought that crosses your mind is

'I need to go away'

so you do.

[nutluvs]

Chubby s/o and Charles is EATING ME ALIVE.

i cannot hold back any longer sorry arthur fans ur gonna have to wait for late nights and little talks. i need this too tw for some body image issues + insecurity, mentions of micah being a stupid bully. but charles fixes everything 🤍

you're perfect - charles smith x chubby fem!reader - fluff 🪻

gazing in the mirror, your eyes drifted over yourself and you frowned deeply, feeling your eyes swim with tears. "goddamn it.." you huff out, feeling over your love handles and then your belly, tracing your stretch marks. you murmur, "maybe micah is right, all i am is a useless pig." you and charles had decided to get out of the camp for a day or two, as things had started to drift into shit after hosea's death. you figured it was best for you both to get into a better headspace, but.. you had struggled with that due to lingering negative thoughts. the heavy knock at the door had you knowing quickly that it was charles, "princess, are you okay? you've been in there for about an hour." he spoke gently, a little, gentle thud on the door indicating he leaned his head against it. you quickly began to adjust your clothing, shifting your skirts and tucking your blouse back in. "i'm okay!" you called out a lie, your voice breaking a little bit, which made his eyebrows knit together. "are you sure? you seem... upset? your voice just cracked." "oh, charles.. i hate how you can just know." you mumbled, giving up on trying to fix yourself and slumping down against the wall beside the mirror. "you can come in." your permission had him opening the door immediately. once he saw how you sat beside the mirror, he sighed and with heavy steps made an approach. he sat down in front of you, his eyes soft as they quickly shifted to meet your teary ones. "look at me," charles reached over and cradled your face in his big hands, "why do you think you're ugly?" he asks, tone holding demand, although none of the scary sort. all he wanted was to know. "micah keeps sayin' so, callin' me a pig and that all i do is sit 'round doin' nothin'." a sniffle cuts your sentence off, as you raise a quivering hand to wipe away your tears, "and i'm startin' to believe him." you admitted, leaning into his touch as his thumbs grazed over your tear-stained, rosy cheeks. "sweetheart—how can you believe anything that idiot spews? he's like a fountain of lies." he hums gently, bringing you close to touch his forehead to yours. you locked gazes, and you felt a little more secure already. he was your safe person. you were always free to run to him and leap into his arms, you knew, he would drop anything for you to make you feel better. the pause between the two of you felt like it continued infinitely, but you knew he was only collecting his words. eventually, he did speak, and they were reassuring words, "all he is.. is vindictive, and a liar. you aren't ugly, you aren't a pig, you aren't useless. you're so, so beautiful—it kills me to see you breaking yourself down by agreeing with micah, to see you hating your gorgeous body because of something stupid he said." "you do so much for everyone in this gang, and you mean it with a genuine heart. there's really not one person that dislikes you, maybe aside from micah... but he only dislikes you because you're the better person. he could only dream of being as good as you." charles went on, his expression promising as he spoke, but you couldn't help but

ask, "y'mean it?" his eyebrows knitted together, and you thought he was upset before watching as he grinned while pressing a light kiss to your jaw, "do i sound like i'm joking?" he hummed, and you began to giggle. "i'm not joking, i'm being as serious as anyone can be. you deserve the world, princess. you're so beautiful. you're perfect." you blushed when he said such things, even a little more when he put his strong arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug, the warmth radiating from his stiff body as you sat on his lap. "i love you," charles mumbled as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, "and i mean it. you know that, and you should always know that. don't doubt yourself." he said against your skin. "i'll try not to," you stated, and when he looked at you expectantly, you sighed with a wide smile, "..promise." you leaned into him again, feeling his hands drift up your sides and onto your shoulder blades, tracing little patterns over your clothed back. "thank you for promising. i feel good, knowing you're going to start feeling better about yourself," charles raised his head, and touched the tip of his nose to yours. you could see the contentment in both his eyes and his smile. "your happiness is all that matters to me. i like seeing that pretty smile of yours."

“oh, quiet, you.”

I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT, I'M SO TIRED. i've had this in my drafts too long (like idk 2 days) and i thought i should finish it. so i did. sorry if it's choppy, i might?? rewrite it??? but i'm for sure that i'll make more charles x chubby reader when i have more motivation though :) thanks for reading! 🪻

[12timetraveler]

All my requests involve a chubby female reader because insecurityTM Buuuut if you do want a new fic idea for Hosea fucks Friday~ Hosea takes readers virginity? I was thinking like the reader would be talking with the girls and the topic of sex would come up,and reader would admit to being a virgin and themselves thinking it's because of their size. Cue our charming silver fox coming to the rescue lol. (ignore if you are fed up with the chubby!F!Reader requests) Again love your work V MUCH

I have had this request in my inbox for forever but I loved the idea so much. Finally, FINALLY was able to sit down and finish it.

So, Chapter 54 of Campfire Stories is here. 

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Hosea overhears reader make a few confessions to the other girls in camp one day and decides to act on his long-time feelings for her.

Below is a preview. Check out the whole story at the link above. 

“How’d y’all lose your virginity?” Karen asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Karen,” Abigail laughed, trying and failing to give Karen a disapproving look. 

“I was 16,” Karen started, ignoring Abigail. “His name was... damn what was his name? Bobby or Jimmy or... somethin’ like that. Anyway. He and I were sweet on each other. One afternoon he took me into his barn.” 

“You lost your virginity in a barn?” Jenny asked, scrunching her face up. 

“Didn’t that... you know... hurt?” Mary Beth asked. “All that straw in your...” Mary Beth shuddered. 

“No,” Karen said indignantly. “He lay down a blanket and everything. Like a proper gentleman.” 

“Some gentleman,” Abigail laughed. 

“Well what about you!? You got better stories, then?!” Karen huffed.

“Al, I think his name was.” Mary Beth said after a moment. “I met him in a bar. We chatted all evening, then he took me up to the room he was renting in the saloon.” Mary Beth sighed. “He was very nice... though... He wasn’t very naturally gifted.” She giggled. 

“Uh oh,” Abigail said. 

“It wasn’t that bad. He tried his best. And I suppose it didn’t hurt that much because of it.” Mary Beth shrugged. "Ain’t very romantic but still.” 

“I was 15 I think.” Abigail said. “He wouldn’t have been my first choice but... he wasn’t so bad I suppose. We’d been flirting on and off. I was starving, figured I had to become a working woman if I didn’t want to die in the gutter. Sold him my first time for a mighty fine price.” Abigail shrugged. “Could have been worse, I suppose. He was... kind. Made sure it didn’t hurt too bad.” The others nodded in understanding. 

“How ‘bout you, Tilly?” Karen asked. Tilly glanced up at you all. She paused, thinking for a minute. 

"It was when we were still out west. Can't remember where exactly. Nevada or Wyoming or something. We'd been camped outside this town for a few months and there was this feller. He was... Sweet. Very sweet. Any time he saw me he'd run off and pick me the nearest flower." Tilly grinned, staring at her lap at the memory. "Weren't meant to last. He was too gentle for this life and I'm too wild for his. But it was good while it lasted. When his parents were out he snuck me up to his room and we did it there." 

"His name was James.” Jenny sighed wistfully. “Lived just down the road. He and I went on a wagon ride. Once we were off the road and out of town, he lay down a blanket in the back of the wagon." Jenny giggled. “Thing was rocking something fierce. I’m sure anyone who saw it knew what was happening, but no one bothered us. Horses were pretty irritated with us though.”

“How about you?” Mary Beth asked. Everyone turned to you. You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“Me? Oh... I uh....” You paused, trying to make something up quickly. 

“You... have done it before, right?” Mary Beth asked slowly. You sighed and shook your head. 

“You’re a virgin?!” Karen exclaimed, far too loudly. You shushed her, looking around to make sure no one was listening in. 

“Yes, alright?! I’m a virgin! I’ve never been with anybody before.” You hissed between clenched teeth. 

“That’s okay,” Abigail assured you. “In society, that’s what you should strive for. It’s okay if you want to wait.”

“It’s not that I want to wait. Men don't wanna be with a girl like me." You said simply, stating a fact of life.

"Why wouldn't they?" Mary Beth asked slowly, not following.

“Why would they?” you scoffed, focusing on the sewing in your hands. "I mean, what do I have to offer them?" 

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” Abigail said. “None of us are exactly catches. Doesn’t mean much in the end.”

“I’m sure you just...”

“Don’t,” You cut them off. “I don’t need to hear any of that. I know damn well why no one will have me.” It was silent for a moment. 

“Why?” Mary Beth asked, sounding genuinely confused. The other girls looked equally lost. 

“Look at me.” You said, gesturing to your body and the way your curves had turned to rolls as you were sitting on the crate. 

“You think no one has slept with you because of your figure?” Abigail said gently. 

“No. I know that’s why nobody’ll sleep with me. Been told as much all my life.” You said simply. You sighed, setting down your sewing. “I mean... I suppose if I tried maybe I could get the really desperate men. But I just... I want my first time to mean something. But no one gives me the time of day, so I’ve never made that connection.” You said. “Sometimes I think I oughta just get it over with. Let Mac or one of them just take it and be done with it. But... I guess I’m still holding out hope.” 

The others were silent for a moment, no one knowing what to say. 

“Horseshit,” Karen said. “Men don’t actually care about that.”

“You don’t get to say that,” You snapped, glaring at her. “Think about the last time we all went to a saloon in town. Did anyone push you out of the way to get a better look at me? No? They pushed me aside for you,” You huffed. “My whole life I’ve just been a figure in the background. Until you experience that, don’t tell me it’s horse shit.” You deflated a bit, feeling the weight of it on your shoulders. Jenny reached out and rubbed your arm gently. You patted the younger girl’s hand reassuringly. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. You didn’t do anything.” You said. You looked over the girls. You were older than any of them by at least a year or two. Hearing that they’d all lost their innocence before they were twenty had you feeling like an old maid. “Let's find a happier topic to discuss.” You suggested. Everyone was quiet for a moment. 

"I think I know who you want to take your first time" Karen finally said, wiggling her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood. Tilly grinned. 

"She's right. A certain silver-tongued fox we all know you're sweet on." Jenny said, wiggling her eyebrows

"Awww Hosea would be great for your first time." Mary Beth sighed. 

"Do y'all have to talk so loud?" You huffed, glancing around. You weren't sure where Hosea was, but camp was small. You'd be utterly humiliated if he heard them talking. 

"They're right, you know." Abigail said. "They only get better with experience. And Hosea's smart. He'd take care of you." Abigail made a face as she realized she was talking about someone she very obviously saw as a father. 

"Can we please drop the subject?" You hissed. You could feel your cheeks heating up. 

"I remember being kept up a few nights because of him and Bessie." Mrs. Grimshaw's comment made you jump out of your skin. You hadn't heard her walk up behind you, standing with her hands on her hips. "She always liked it." She seemed lost in thought for a moment before turning back to you all. "I'm not certain why you all are discussing what Mr. Matthews would be like between the sheets, but I'm sure you have better things to do with your time. Back to work." She snapped.

~~~~~~~~~

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hello!! I'm kinda embarrassed but could you do an uno reverse with the chubby Arthur fanfic but its with a chubby reader instead?? (your choice to make Arthur also chubby or not) Thank you!!

A/N: Don’t be embarassed (I spelled that wrong but autocorrect won’t work right now and I’m too dumb to know how to spell it off the top of my head lol) I absolutely love to write for Arthur! I feel like he doesn’t get enough attention anymore. Thank you for the ask!! I hope you like this! The ending got a little messy and not great cause I didn’t know how to end it but I hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of poor body image and Micah being a fucking douche, but there’s fluff! Arthur makes things better

***

“Y/N!” Mary-Beth called your name. 

You turned your head to look at her. Karen and Tilly stood with her by the wagon. John was hitching up a couple horses to the wagon with Lenny’s help.

“Hi, ladies.” You greeted them as you approached the tent. 

“We’re gonna go into town. You wanna come with us?” 

“What are you plannin’ on doing in town?” 

“Oh you know, just the usual.” Mary-Beth answered with a little wave of her hand. “Seein’ what the folk around here are like.”

“And maybe robbin’ them.” Tilly giggled. 

“But we aren’t gettin’ into too much trouble.” Karen added. “John won’t let us, will you John?”

“I hope not.” He sighed, buckling a strap on the horse. 

“So what do you say, Y/N?” Tilly asked you.

Arthur watched from across camp as you declined the ladies’ offer to join them on their trip into town. His eyes stayed on you while you watched them leave in the back of the wagon John and Lenny were driving. 

You began to pick at your nails, the furrow between your brows becoming more prominent. The picking at your nails was a bad habit of yours, one you only did when something was clouding your mind. 

“Are ya even listening to me, Arthur?” Uncle asked him.

Arthur took the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it into the fire as he stood up. You were going to your tent so that’s were he planned on going. 

“Stopped listenin’ a while ago, Uncle. Thought you would’ve noticed.”

Uncle began to complain about Arthur’s inattentiveness but the outlaw was already leaving the table, making his way across camp to check on you.

Arthur ducked inside the tent he shared with you, taking his hat off. 

“Hey, pumpkin.” He greeted you.

You turned to face him, offering him a little smile. 

“Hi, Arthur.”

“What’re you up to?” He asked. Maybe you were too busy to go into town. 

“Gonna go read out by the cliffside for a bit.” You picked up your book from the end table. “Do you want to come with me? Or are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy for you, pumpkin.” He flashed you a little smile as you moved towards him. He was expecting you to stop, even if only for a moment, to give him a kiss on the cheek or to brush your hand along his chest like you always did when you passed him by. But you simply walked by him without even looking at him.

Something was definitely wrong. This confirmed his worries. 

“How was meetin’ up with Mary?”

“Went about as pleasant as you’d think. Wanted me to get her brother back from that religious group, the Chelonia.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Depends on your definition of fun.” Arthur muttered.

You were thankful that no one was down by the edge of the cliff. You wanted to have some peace and quiet away from everyone. 

You decided to sit beneath a tree, placing your book in your lap. Arthur grunted rather dramatically as he got down next to you.

“M’too old for this kinda shit.” He sat facing you. One of his legs was loosely crossed while the other was spread to cross over yours, though he didn’t put any weight on your legs. 

“You don’t gotta follow me around, you know.” You giggled softly.

“I know. Just like spendin’ time with ya.” He took his hat off and put it in the grass beside him. “I, uh, I heard the girls were askin’ you to go to town with them.”

You nodded your head, opening the book in your lap so that you didn’t have to look at him. 

“Why didn’t you go? Thought you were tellin’ me just last night you had some errands to run in town.”

“I can do them another time, Arthur. It wasn’t anything important.”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.

“Mary-Beth sounded a little eager to have you go with them, don’t you think?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“She was just bein’ friendly though, wasn’t she? She’s a good kid.”

“Arthur, what are you getting at?” You looked up from your book, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t know.” He sighed heavily. He ran a hand over his face. “I-I saw that look on your face when you were watchin’ them go, pumpkin. You looked upset about somethin.’” He paused to gauge your reaction. “Did something happen with one of the girls?”

“No, Arthur.” You dropped your attention back to the book.

“Karen’s not bad unless you get her drunk.” Arthur thought out loud. “And Tilly’s a nice girl, least from what I’ve seen. Mary-Beth too. Abigail can be.... something else. Did she do something?”

“Arthur, please.” You closed the book firmly. “Just stop.”

“Pumpkin, I’m just concerned is all.” Arthur reached over to place his hand on yours. “I don’t like that look I saw on your face. It don’t belong there.”

“The girls didn’t do anything to me, Arthur.” You murmured quietly, feeling a scratchy sensation begin in the back of your throat. “It’s all okay, I promise.”

“You say that, but I don’t see it in your eyes.” He shook his head. Cerulean blue eyes gazed at you with such a softness that you could’ve melted right there, but the torment you felt in your chest and in your head were too much. It pushed that softness he was able to make you feel away and brought in a dark feeling. 

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You stood up, brushing off your skirt, and began to move back towards camp.

However you didn’t get very far. Arthur’s hand found your arm, bringing you to a stop. 

You turned your head to look away from him, taking a steady deep breath through your nose in an attempt to make the tears go away. If you could calm yourself down, they would go away. 

Arthur’s hand slid down from your bicep to your hand and his thumb began to trace small circles on the back of your hand. You turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers together. 

“You don’t gotta tell me, pumpkin, but I just hate to see you so upset and so quiet about it.” He stepped closer and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

“I just…. I can’t stand some of these people, Arthur.” You tilted your head down, unable to look up at him. You focused your eyes on his boots. “Just can’t fucking stand them. They’re just….” You couldn’t find the words to accurately describe what you wanted to say. 

“Who was it?” Arthur had a very short list of who would put you on the verge of tears. Possibilities and scenarios began to race through his mind. 

“Micah just…. He was just being a bastard.” Your voice cracked. “He said you were going into town to see Mary Linton. I knew that’s where you had been earlier today. But he just…. He started saying that you were going to…. That you and her…. Because she’s-she’s thin and pretty and I’m as big as one of the pigs Pearson butchers.”

“He what?” Arthur had to pull his hand away from you as to not cause you any harm. His fingers automatically curled into tight fists and he felt the need to seek out Micah Bell to cause him serious damage. 

His eyes left yours and he tilted his head up to search the camp behind you. Micah was sitting at a table with Bill, sharpening his knife. 

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You sniffled, looking down at the buttons on his shirt. “He wasn’t wrong. No use in sugar coatin’ it.”

Arthur stared at you for a few moments, his brain still trying to process the anger he felt. Then he took a breath and ran a hand over his face. 

“Micah Bell is a miserable son of a bitch, Y/N. He ain’t right about nothin’. Not a damn thing.”

“But Arthur, I don’t-I don’t look like other girls, like Mary or like Karen.” You whispered, tears trailing down your cheeks. You crossed your arms over yourself, suddenly feel extremely self-conscious. “I-I didn’t go into town with them because every time we go into town, people stare at me.”

“Pumpkin, they stare at me too. They’re just a bunch of judgemental pricks.”

“That’s different, Arthur.” You shook your head. It was sweet of him to try to make you feel better, but they stared at him for different reasons than they stared at you. “It’s-It’s just not the same. You.... You’re a normal size. You just come across as intimidatin’ and sometimes folk don’t know how to take that. But me.... They see me and all they see is a pig in a dress.”

“Don’t you say that, Y/N.” He reached up to cup your face, calloused thumbs brushing away your tears. “You don’t look nothin’ like a pig.”

“Mary, she’s just…. She’s so different from me, Arthur.”

“Course she is, pumpkin.” Arthur leaned forward to kiss your forehead, then he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in for a proper hug. His slipped around you, providing you with a sense of protection. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with that. And I definitely don’t see nothin’ wrong with you. You’re absolutely gorgeous in my eyes, pumpkin. Wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”

“But Arthur, I look like a cow.”

“Stop comparin’ yourself to farm animals, Y/N.” He kissed the side of your head. “It’s breakin’ my heart.”

You frowned, leaning your head against his shoulder. Arthur pressed his lips against your head. 

“I know you’ve never had the best thoughts about yourself.” He murmured into your hair. “But I got plenty of good thoughts about you for the both of us. I’ll make sure to share them with you until you start thinkin’ about yourself differently. I need you to know that it don’t matter that you’re different from Mary or Karen or anyone else. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It’s who you are.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” You sniffled. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Only ‘cause I love ya, pumpkin.” 

***

Hosea caught sight of Arthur as the burly outlaw made his way across camp, a dark look in his eyes.

“Arthur-,”

“Not now, Hosea.” Arthur waved him off. His eyes were set on Micah who wasn’t even looking at him. His back was to Arthur. He sat at a table with Dutch talking about something Arthur didn’t care to listen to. 

Arthur grabbed the back of Micah’s chair and tipped it back, knocking Micah out of his seat and on to the ground. In the same heartbeat, Arthur drew the revolver from his hip and cocked the hammer with his thumb. 

He put his foot on Micah’s shoulder and aimed the gun at Micah’s chest, glaring down at the man. 

“Whoa, cowpoke!”

“Arthur!” Dutch shouted. “Put that gun away!”

Arthur ignored Dutch. The anger bubbling and festering in his veins made him focus solely on Micah.

“It’d be in your best interests to leave Miss Y/L/N alone.” He spoke lowly.

“I was just havin’ a conversation with her while you were out with your old fling-,”

“What I do ain’t none of your goddamned business.” Arthur cut him off. “If I find out you’ve said anything out of line to Y/N again, Micah Bell, I’ll be puttin’ a hole through your goddamn chest.”

Micah said nothing, locking his jaw as he glared up at Arthur. Arthur lowered his gun and then removed his foot from Micah’s shoulder. 

Hosea watched as Arthur moved towards his tent, holstering his weapon. 

“You’re a funny guy, Arthur Morgan!” Micah stood up, angrily brushing off his clothes. 

“And you’re a dumb bastard.” Hosea muttered, shaking his head as he walked away. “Surprised it’s taken this long.”

Taglists:  @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @zodiacaldust @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[exquisitley-obsessed]

I’m (right) here

This is technically a part two: you can read part one HERE

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur lost sight of y/n on a hunting trip and it turns out the Pinkertons have hold of her and are doing everything they can to beat information about Dutch out of her. Arthur’s only goal is to get her back but he’s beginning to realise that if he does, nothing will be the same.

Word Count: 5568

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Torture, murder, bruises, scars, cuts!!

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. 

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

That had to be a broken rib.

Y/n gasped as she tried to roll away from the steel capped boot that had just gutted her; the chubby, squat old man at the other end of the boot was the more aggressive of her two captures - Steven was his name, or something like that. 

It was his plump, well-rounded face that she had woken up to sometime ago, sneering down at her with this sickening gleeful look. It was understandable, by his terms he had struck gold by capturing y/n l/n, proud member of the Van Der Linde gang.

“You still don’t want to talk?” He husked out, hands on his portly hips. Y/n simply spat in response, a mixture of saliva and blood. Days had passed. Weeks maybe, it was difficult to tell when stuffed in a cage in a windowless room.

They came and they went, her captures. Steven and Tony were their names, or at least, that’s what they called each other. So far all they had revealed was that they were Pinkertons, and desperate for information on Dutch Van Der Linde. The beatings were consistent, another day without information, another beating – more painful than the last.

But y/n already knew that nothing could break her vow of silence. She had been dragged into this cage loyal to Dutch and she sure as hell would find a way out of it still being loyal – they’d have to kill her otherwise. It appeared that would be the direction of things anyway.

They were getting tiresome, annoyed, frustrated. Constantly checking their watches and disappearing for long lengths of time, leaving her aching and alone on the concrete floor watching the free flies mock her as they crawled the walls before flying away. It was easiest when she was asleep, it didn’t hurt so much then, like small shelter in a hurricane.

They’re coming. She had rhythmically repeated the mantra to herself a thousand times by now, a prayer. Dutch and Arthur, those she who she was currently dying to protect – they would come. They had to.

 ***

“We’ll find her Arthur.” Dutch said for what felt like the thousandth time. Arthur was sitting glumly inside his camp, ignoring his company as his eyes bore into his map, spotted with pins and small notes.

“I know.” He huffed back without much thought, his mind somewhere else. It felt like so much time had already been wasted, and Arthur has resorted to spending every waking moment tracking y/n, at least it kept his mind occupied.

Pinkertons weren’t necessarily nasty men, he’d sure as hell met worse, but they were by no means men to be trusted. Honour among thieves didn’t apply to them.

Sighing heavily his eyes drifted from the map above his bed to his collection of photos pinned nearby; him, Hosea and Dutch, his mother, an old newspaper clipping and the most recent edition was the printed photo of y/n that he had taken on a hunting trip.

He put it up there after getting it printed, a few days after her disappearance. Somewhere in his mind he validated the action through it only being a reminder of his task. 

He liked the photo. She looked the same as ever, same braid, same work pants, John’s old shirt – her eyes were crinkled slightly as she smiled at the camera her jaw slack as if she were about to start laughing. Actually, she wasn’t looking at the camera, she was looking behind it – at Arthur.

It was strange to see the way someone looked at you, those moments which you normally don’t get to see at all, and yet he had it captured in time and hanging above his bed. Something about this whole situation had awoken something he thought he had buried a long time ago, but that’s always the way with old feelings, they don’t really go away you just start convincing yourself that they’re not there anymore as you suddenly become busy with someone else. But now he had no distraction, and with all this time, this torturous time without her – he was remembering.

“God’s sake,” He muttered under his breath, collapsing in his chair and flicking through his journal for the hundredth time. It was escapism really, reading old passages and admiring old drawings from a few weeks ago; pretending as if he were back then with nothing to fear.

He hadn’t realised how much he drew her. It seemed obvious now, flicking through the creased papers where loose sketches of y/n seemed to dot every other page. He had never questioned it before, just always thought that he could remember her figure a lot easier than others – the shape she took when she was hunched on her horse, how she always sat in the same crumpled poor-excuse of a chair every morning when he brought her a coffee. When the gang had had a small party, out of everyone it was her he remembered when sitting around the fireplace, lips parted slightly as she half-sang.

Everything was different now, even he couldn’t deny it. But God, he hated it.

What would this mean? When they got her back, if they got her back, what would happen then? Another cycle of burying his feelings, he could see himself already back at Mary’s beck-and-call, desperate for a distraction. Maybe there was a part of himself that didn’t want to see her again, that just wanted to see her safe and then disappear – could he seriously continue to live an elaborate lie he had formulated years ago, when he was only a boy? Who was that fair to?

He cussed again low under his breath. The past few days all he’s wanted to do is escape his mind, calm his rushing thoughts, tame them into something he could tolerate. Hazily, he noticed somewhat raised panicked voices out in the main camp. He could do this; he had done it before, burying feelings. The voices sounded excited. Maybe he was simply destined to live a life of half-loves. Footsteps were now moving toward his tent.

“Arthur!” But he had already picked up his gun and was headed through the folds of his camp. He had survived his feelings for y/n once before, of course he could again.

***

“Your own family left, y/n…” She cringed at how sympathetic Tony’s voice was, as if he were on her side. “They’re gone…there’s been no sign of them for weeks now. They’re not coming.”

This was apparently their plan for the time being. Whispering false truths to her about Dutch, how he was spotted on the other side of West Elizabeth, three days ride from, well wherever the hell she was.

“No,” Y/n gasped, her ribs grinding against the ground, bone and concrete. The lashes on her back felt like they were writhing as the leather whip in Steven’s hand dripped her slick blood.

“Stop!” Steven exploded, y/n was hazily aware of the whip being catapulted across the room, “Stop protecting them y/n! We’re here to help you, for God sake they-”

“Help me?” She hissed. He didn’t hear.

“don’t care about you! Look-” Steven grunted, hauling a chair from the desk to the front of her cell and throwing himself in it, “Life has been nothing but unkind to you y/n, we can see that,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut as another dull, aching throb radiated from her back, “We’re at a point now where we can forgive you for all of your past crimes…you could walk away from this a free woman…marry a good man, whatever the hell you want…we just need something in return.”

She couldn’t meet his eye. Couldn’t begin to accept what he was telling her about her family but, the reality was, where were they? Weeks he said, weeks waiting in agony for the moment they’d come for her only to be left day in, day out, entirely and utterly alone. 

Y/n felt herself being lulled in to a numb state, all she could pitifully think of was that she wanted to go home: she wanted fresh clean clothes, Pearson’s warm soup, a story from Hosea, a hug from Dutch – when was the last time someone had touched her in an affectionate way?

“Please…” She wheezed through her shattered lungs as her eyes rolled, “Just leave me alone.”

This apparently wasn’t the right answer. Steven, in one fluid motion, swung the chair out from underneath him, hurling it at the cell. Colliding against the steel bars, the wood promptly splintered like fragile bones.

“You stupid bitch!” He exploded, “You can’t see help when it’s fucking standing in front of you! You refuse it like a fucking idiot!” He was gasping for breath as he bellowed, his podgy skin flushing scarlet, “No wonder you’ve ended up like this...all alone…” He was spitting at her, stalking across the front of her bars like a predator homing in on its prey. Y/n felt dull tears dribble down her cheeks as she began to drown in how utterly helpless she was. Crumpled on the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. “This...” He stopped stalking, his pulsating eyes glaring down at her over his rounded cheeks, “This…” He repeated, lowering himself to her level, “is why deep down…you’ll always be an orphan.”

Y/n watched him curiously, he hadn’t acted like this before. He had always had control. She then focused on Tony behind him whose eyes were avidly watching a pocket watch as his flicked it back and forth between his fingers nimbly.

“We best get going.” Tony finally spoke into the silence, swinging his coat on before checking the bullets in his pistol.

“Not yet,” Y/n’s heart dropped as Steven turned back to her, “They aint getting you back.” He spat at her, his voice low, almost as if he was laughing at her. Y/n watched in silent trepidation as he pushed his key into her cell door and slung it open, “At least…” Y/n moved her eyes back to Tony, pleading for him to do something, “They aint getting you back alive.”

Lying there, face down, unable to move, y/n found herself desperately coming to terms with her own mortality as she heard the click of the gun; summoning all her strength she tried to raise her head to look at him but his steel capped boot struck her clean across the cheek. Choking out a feeble cry she then tried to use the momentum of the kick to roll away from him, but it was futile. With her body broken beneath her there was nothing she could do, and all too soon she felt the cold, lifeless tip of the gun’s barrel pushed against the back of her head. This was it. Her pathetic, ruthless, pain-filled life – this was the climax, the pièce de résistance. The final click sounded followed by a short explosion before finally, darkness.

****

“I told you to only blow the god-damn doors off!” Arthur hollered at Sean who merely gave him a meek look and a shrug of the shoulder. Irish idiot, Arthur thought. The explosion was only supposed to take out the chains and bolts encasing the front doors, but the underestimation of the TNT had caused a shudder through house’s frame, resulting in the roof crumbling in on itself.

“Okay boys!” Dutch commanded, getting off from his horse and assessing the damage, “They know we’re here now which is fine…there’s more of us than ‘em I can promise you that.” He turned back to the gang, patrolling across the front of them like an army captain, “One objective: get in there and find y/n…you see any Pinkertons…gun ‘em down. They messed with us…with our family.” Slowly and in unison, the Van der Linde gang pulled on their masks. “Aint nobody messes with the our family and survives…nobody.” They moved in.

Arthur turned left with Charles, moving swiftly through the large, white manor house they had tracked the Pinkertons to – and God what a job that was. Weeks had passed of tracking and losing sight of the Pinkertons, putting everyone’s necks on the line trying to find the whereabouts of y/n. At first, they had been so sure she was in this old, abandoned farmhouse. They planned meticulously their attack for a week before attempting, only to discover it was some O’Discrolls cooped up in there – y/n nowhere in sight. 

Realising how much time had been wasted, they quickly went back to work, until Micah’s loudmouth made things blow up in the local town. Time and effort were then directed to moving camp somewhere safe, no one allowed to go after y/n during that time – it was also during this time that Dutch and Arthur had a rather explosive argument. 

But they were finally here, finally had tracked her to this bulky manor house out west, and if she weren’t here… well, Arthur couldn’t think about that.

“In here,” Charles’ voice rumbled as they moved past some double doors. Sharing a quick glance with Charles, Arthur jolted forward, the doors snapping back out of his way as he moved into the room. Looking around, he noticed how it looked like it was crumpled in on itself, planks of wood, an old piano, a large cabinet that had been picked clean years ago. All signs of life felt distant and foreign, as if someone hadn’t lived there for years – still, Arthur couldn’t lose hope. He turned back to Charles shook his head and they moved on.

****

Y/n blinked for what felt like forever, her heart racing as a high-pitched whine completely dominated her hearing. She hadn’t expected to still be conscious so it took her a minute to gather her bearings. Slowly, fuzzy outlines hardened into shapes and then, objects. Something had exploded, something was happening. Y/n moved and her whole body burned but it didn’t matter anymore – something was happening.

Fumbling for a second, she dragged herself up, her legs threatening to give way underneath her as she clung onto a fallen beam for support. Looking around she saw Steven rolling around near her, his face contorted into that of agony as one of his legs sat stuck under a pile of rubble and brick, a low gurgling, gasping noise whining from his throat. Sweeping low, y/n swiftly plucked up his gun and felt adrenaline start to pump through her – she had the power now.

“I can help,” Her ears still ringing as she coyly smiled at the chubby, little man at her feet. “Make the pain stop…I mean…”

Y/n, without thinking, raised the gun to his head and shot. Blood splattered across the room. Letting out a long deep sigh, y/n felt herself snapping back into her body, her arms and legs now feeling a little more like her own. Looking over she saw Tony collapsed; maybe passed out, maybe dead. It didn’t matter.

Panic rose quickly inside her, she needed to get out. She didn’t know what was happening or what had sparked the explosion, but this could be her only chance to escape - she needed to get out now. Swinging herself clumsily around the corner she opened the door and peered out, her eyes greedily racing across all the new sights and imagery. She tried to move as light as she could across the creaking floor tiles, her legs limping and stumbling over one another beneath her. Maybe there were other people in the house, maybe she was just being overcautious. She didn’t much care. She just needed to get out.

Successfully reaching a flight of stairs, she began to pick her way down, half hanging over the barista, the world spinning around her. Then, she heard a noise, heavy thumps and distant voices – she wasn’t alone. Panic rose like bile and suddenly, she was racing down the stairs, another flight followed by the next – out, out, out. The next flight, almost there, keep the gun in hand. God it’s so heavy. The world spinning around her, the adrenaline not slowing down until she scrambled down that last flight of stairs until there in front of her were the doors, opening out in a grassy barren knoll ahead.

She didn’t care about the pain anymore, or the fact that all this movement had cracked open all her cuts and lashings – she ran. She ran faster than it felt like she had ever run before, racing forth into the greenery and the open night sky. The stars gleaming down on her as she sprinted through the tall grass, feeling the wind move through her, an explosion of smells - the world alive around her. Then, a figure arose from her right. Instinctively, she stumbled down into a crouch, hiding herself in the shrubbery.

“Any sign of her?” Someone called out, fear latched onto her heart, she already knew she was the ‘her’. She tried to make out the voice, but it felt like the whole world was swimming in her head.

“No…I think John found some dead bodies in the attic. He said they were real fresh though.” Another voice, a different accent. Why wouldn’t her head unscramble itself? She felt her stomach lurch at the name – she knew a John.

“But I thought…” She heard her own voice softly choke out as she rose to her knees, swaying back and forth as the Earth moved underneath her.

“So…she aint here?”

“Doesn’t look like it…there are signs she might’ve been…they’re going to burn down the house down though.”

Looking up over the spikey tops of the greenery, y/n tried to make out the dark silhouettes barely visible against the inky night sky.

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“They won’t give up…not when it comes to her…”

“Not when it comes to anyone, Javier. We’re family. No one gets left behind.” Y/n felt a sob explode out of her – it was them. Hosea and Javier, talking about her, looking for her – saving her. In the same second another explosion erupted, this time, it was to begin the fire. Bright and beautiful, greedily eating up the dry wood of the abandoned home and exploding light into the universe. The bright and beautiful universe in which her family were here, her family that had come for her.

“Hosea!” She tried to shout but it came out as a wheeze, her voice stuck somewhere in her broken throat as she dragged herself to her feet, stumbling forward towards the figures. “Javier!” She tried again, but no noise. Nothing. Something desperate arose in her, what if they couldn’t see her? What if they left her without realising they had found her, she was here, and she was safe now. She went to shout again, her feet stumbling beneath her.

Her hair was completely loose, her clothes torn, her body broken. The heat of the fire warming her skin and yet, her skin wasn’t warm, it was burning. Fresh blood dribbling down her body as her wounds split. She wanted to scream again but something stopped her.

“Y/n…” All he said was her name. Looking up all she could see was Arthur. He was walking between Hosea and Javier, away from the house, looking at her. He could see her.

“Arthur-” She tried to say his name, but a sob shattered her lungs. She silently begged him to come to her, to touch her as she began to crumble. And, almost as if he heard her, he jolted forwards, his face enigmatic as he reached out for her but just as he was about to reach out for her – she jumped back, as if he had shocked her.

She had this God-awful look in her eyes then, all glossy and confused, like she didn’t quite recognise him. Like she was questioning him, staring at him as if she couldn’t quite make her mind up about something.

“How long’s it been.” God her voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of the fire, the shouts of Hosea and Javier as they called for the others.

“Since what?” Arthur heard his own voice softly rumble, all he wanted was to soothe her, touch her, keep her safe.

“Since I went missing Arthur?” She looked numb; her were eyes wide, her mouth half open, a salty mixture of tears, dirt and blood dribbling down her cheeks. Arthur had not realised a single question could make him feel so guilty.

“Um…maybe a few weeks…”

“Maybe?” She let out a shaky breath. He felt like a small stone settle at the bottom of his gut – guilt.

“Four weeks yesterday…that’s when you went missing.”

And there it was. Y/n’s mind felt like it was crumpling in on itself, beginning to choke on the feeling of betrayal. Four weeks. Four weeks they had left her there, maybe searching, maybe not. She had lay in that poor excuse for a jailcell for a month, she had been dragged past her breaking point, she had faced pain like she could never had imagined waiting every second, every minute for her family to do what a family does, to protect her and yet, where were they?

“Y/n, girl, there you-” Dutch’s gruff voice swam into her mind as she twisted away from Arthur. The blazing red of the fire and the inky blue of the night sky, all of it blurring into a complete and utter mess.

“Four weeks….” She was surprised at how meek her own voice sounded, she hated it venomously. How was it that she had become so weak? How had she gotten here, to this moment? “Where were you?” She turned back to where Arthur stood, his head bowed like a scolded runt and Dutch, his hand half outstretched towards her, his euphoric face crumbling. “How could you let…”

“Y/n we were looking for you…I promise we were looking…” Dutch began, already stumbling into his defensive tone. Y/n wanted to believe him, but then she blinked and suddenly she was back in her cell, the ominous faces of men she was savagely scared of hovering above her, sneering at her as they told her how her family had disappeared, left her behind, just like her parents did. She blinked once more, and they were gone.

“You were supposed to protect me-” Suddenly, she exploded, “We’re family! What kind of a family does that to one another…you left me there…you left me there with those men…”

“I know baby-” Dutch began again.

“No!” She was gasping now, unable to breathe – the smoke and the sobbing choking her, “You don’t know…if only you did…if only you knew what they did to me Dutch….” Her cheeks throbbed as she tried to resist a guttural sob, “I thought I was your daughter.”

“You are-”

“No…I aint.” Her legs were shaking now, the fire and sky crashing together once again, “You don’t do that to your daughter, you left me…you left me behind.” Suddenly the grass felt so soft, “You left me...” The grass was so gentle compared to the concrete of her cell, the soil softened, responded to her touch, moved with her – earth and flesh, “You left me just like they did…”

Resting back, she dug her fingers deep into the earth and looked up. The sky was hot, the soil cold. Her world being torn open around her, exploding and rearranging into something new.

Nothing would be the same.

*****

“Oh…you scared me.” Arthur murmured, his eyes flickering up to the ghostly figure at the mouth of his tent.

“Sorry I-” Y/n stood awkwardly between the folds of cloth, dressed in only her night things with her hair loose down her back. She looked young, a little like how she did when they had first met. Arthur also noticed then how delicate she looked; it had been like that for a few weeks now.

Dutch had basically carried her back to camp, leaving her with Ms Grimshaw so her wounds could be tended to. Arthur had checked in on her regularly during the first few days, he liked it most when she was asleep, it gave him time to watch over her without feeling as though he was intruding.

“No, it’s okay,” A sloping grin melted into his cheeks, “Stay...please…I got, uh, oatcakes and beer.”

“Wow…my lucky treat,” Arthur watched with concealed warmth as a smile pattered across her cheeks. It had felt like forever since he had seen her smile. “Sorry for intruding, guess I just wanted to be close to someone for a ‘lil bit. Can’t sleep, y’know,” Moving into his camp, she curled herself up on Arthur’s fur rug, resting her back against his side table; it was her position, whenever she had snuck into his tent she had always somehow folded herself into that specific corner and he had never dared question it for she would always aggressively insist she was comfortable.

“Yeah, I understand. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel like that most of the time.”

“To be honest, it wasn’t made very clear when I signed up to this gang…” Y/n grinned at him, “Maybe then I would’ve rethought my application.” Arthur chuckled.

“True…they don’t exactly give you a run down before you start living a life of crime.” Moments like these were more regular the past few days. Moments where he found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythmic conversations with y/n that he had always had, it was comforting, a reminder that the pain was temporary. “How you holding up?”

“Fine,” She smiled at him, a real smile, “Ms Grimshaw works a miracle.”

“That she does,” He shuffled slightly to rest his back against the wagon next to his bed.

“Nothing really bad happened to me physically…I mean, nothing I can’t recover from.”

“And you will, with time, you always do.” She smiled at him again, but this time her eyes lowered after meeting his – was she nervous?

“I guess the only problem is…Dutch aint shifting outta protective mode any time soon.”

“He’ll get over it…” Arthur chuckled, “I think he’s just mad at himself y’know. You know how much you mean to him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She nodded sleepily. “I know Morgan.” God, it killed him when she called him that. Suddenly, y/n’s face twisted up in a grimace and she jolted up, her hands stretching toward her back.

“Y’okay?” He asked nervously after a moment.

“Fine…fine…” She winced, rubbing at her shoulders, “Just not quite 100% yet, y’know.” He eyed her for a moment as she pushed her hair out of her face, trying to massage the spot in her shoulder that was causing her pain.

“Here,” He surprised himself by saying, “Let me do your hair.” She eyed him; an eyebrow half raised her lips slightly parted. It seems neither of them had expected him to raise that offer. “Oh c’mon, remember how I used to braid your hair before shooting lessons with Dutch?”

“Feels like a lifetime ago…” She murmured; a faint smile painted on her lips as her eyes clouded with a distant memory

“I ain’t forgotten how to,” He smiled at her and she smiled back, shyly. A pause. “Please y/n. I know I can’t do much to help you right now…I’m no good doctor, I’m a god damn idiot when it comes to words and, y’know, comforting people. So, please…let me do this.” He watched as her lips parted slightly into a distant smile, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay Morgan…if you really want to braid my hair I guess I’ll have to allow it. Just do a good job of it okay.”

“Who you trying to look good for?”

“Oh, you know me Morgan…everybody and nobody.” Arthur chuckled to himself. She plodded herself down on the floor next to his cot and, shifting over, he planted his legs like trunks either side of her, creating a small cove in which she could tuck herself.

He went to move her hair to the back when he noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly, his heart rate jumping too. Arthur tried to calm himself then and there but couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the feeling of her, the warmth along the inside of his claves as she curled into him, resting her head lightly against his right knee. Desperately trying not to hurt her, he scooped up her hair and used his fingers to softly comb behind her ears and down her neck, ensuring he had caught every soft wisp.

Silently, he cursed his fingers for being so calloused, spitefully thinking of how his fingers might be grazing her soft skin. Sweeping all her hair to the back, he watched as it loosely tumbled down before softly combing his fingers through it. He promptly forgot about how much he hated his hands, forgot his hatred of how he had always been so large and gruff, unsubtle and mean. Instead his mind became full of thoughts of her.

How different her hair colour looked in the orange candlelight compared to daylight. How long her hair tumbled down her back when loose and how he hadn’t noticed considering she always had it tied back. How he could see the skin of her neck peeking at him as her hair began to sway when he braided it. How that skin sloped down into the loose collar of her night shirt. The way her shoulders and back moved with her steady breath and, if he listened carefully, how he could hear it. Steady, strong, safe. It seemed all too quickly the braid twisted to a finish in his fingers.

“You got a tie?”

“Course,” She sleepily murmured. God that killed him. The way her eyes drooped, the way she moved without being conscious of what she was doing to him. She placed the tie in his outstretched palm and seemed to not realise that her delicate hands had brushed so softly against his rough ones.

“I’m scared,” She piped up as his fingers returned to her hair, her voice ever so slightly dreamy.

“That they’ll come take you again?” Now done, Arthur relaxed back into his cot a little but refused to move his legs, desperate to not disturb her.

“No…well yes but…” She melted deeper into the cove of his legs without thinking, “I’m scared that what they did to me, what happened in those weeks…I’m scared it’s going to be with me for the rest of my life, affect me for the rest of my life, I mean.”

“But-”

“Sorry, I know it sounds silly-”

“No…it doesn’t,” Arthur leaned forward, catching her eye, “There aint anything silly about what you went through, but…I know for a fact that it won’t affect you forever.” A beat.

“How?”

“Because you’re so much more than what happened to you in those four weeks. You’ve lived through hell; we all know it, and yet at the end the day – you’re more than any of the people who have hurt you.” He watched her looking at him, trying to figure out the enigmatic feeling written on her face, but the conversation moved swiftly on.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened in those weeks?” She whispered, not blinking, “Where you all were?”

“We were looking for you y/n, and that’s the God honest truth,”

“But-”

“But nothing y/n. For a while uh…things got complicated. We lost track for a bit and you paid for it, I’m sorry.” He looked down, wondering how far he could take this, “Y’know, I thought that you were dead, just for a moment…I was destroyed.” Her face remained enigmatic, “Now I’m scared to turn away from you for one second, I’m afraid I’ll lose you again.” It felt like he was crossing into unmarked territory.

“You’ll never lose me,” She breathed, “Not really.” A knot tied itself into existence in his gut.

Their eye contact never broke. It felt like it never would. Looking at her then, he felt like there were a million things he wanted to say to her, like there was so much of himself he had yet to reveal to her. The parts of himself which, in all honesty, cared for her more than he ever realised. Sitting there, with her tucked against his right knee, he couldn’t help himself.

Almost as if he were in a trance, he began to trace his fingers along the hair behind her left ear before scooping up her braid and shifting it to the side, how comforting it was to know that she was right there, under his fingertips. His left hand moved to her shoulder were he gently shifted the white cotton of her dress so that it slipped down, exposing her black and beaten shoulder. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he brought his lips down and pressed them against her colourful skin. She shivered into his touch as his beard grazed her bare flesh, but she never looked away. He kissed her again, moving up closer to her neck, his eyes fluttering shut. He was so close that she could feel his breath fluttering across her exposed neck. She relaxed into him, almost daring him to go further until she noticed something – he was crying.

Soft beads rolled down his cheeks as he kissed her again, and again, and again. Softly, y/n started to hear his whispers warm into the silence.

“I’m sorry…”

“I can protect you…”

“They won’t ever hurt you again…”

“I’m here now…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I’m here…”

 Maybe y/n was right, maybe nothing would be the same. But change didn’t seem so scary anymore.

requests open <3

Tags:

@uniqueclodzinevoid​

@rollyjogerjones​

[mileycyprus-hill]

Bumblebee

Domestic/Papa Arthur

This is a lengthy single-chapter story I decided to write after making the mistake of watching Arthur’s low-honor/high honor deaths when he goes back for the money. It put me in such a terrible mood and I cursed myself for watching it, so I decided to make myself feel better by writing a heart-warming fic. I hope you enjoy it too.

High honor Arthur Morgan x female reader

TB doesn’t exist in this storyline.

———————

For the first year since you both escaped, every night Arthur sufferered night terrors. You’re both long gone from Dutch, Micah, and the Pinkertons, but Arthur still has fear. Fear that turns to panic in the middle of the night while you’re both asleep.

You’re often shaken awake by Arthur gently thrashing on the mattress, holding his arms up as if he’s fending off an attacker. By now, you can figure out what he’s dreaming of. It’s the same nightmare each night: Micah has him pinned to the ground and is pushing the knife closer and closer to his chest. Arthur wakes up in terror right as the knife is plunged in his chest. He clutches at his heart while he pants heavily and blinks his eyes in the darkness. You hold him and give him the same little speech each night this happens: he’s alright, you’re alright, and most importantly...your growing child inside you is alright.

Arthur rarely cried in front of you until after that fateful night. That night you almost lost him, fighting off Micah at Beaver Hollow while the camp burned around them. If Dutch hadn’t shown up at the right moment to stop it, Arthur wouldn’t be here with you right now. He thought he was as good as dead when Dutch and Micah left him, until he saw you ride in on a white horse. Literally.

The sun rose behind the trees as you rode back on your snow-white warmblood and he swore he saw an angel coming to take him away. He cried into your shirt when you held him close, grateful for this final moment with you.

He thought each day was his final day with you, and waited for death to come. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened. Fate granted him an extension on his life, and Arthur is forever grateful.

However, he fears his enemies will soon catch up with him and take you both away. He refuses to relive that pain.

Arthur would sell his soul if it meant preventing that from happening again.

Arthur sits up in bed and the sheets are dampened from his sweat, despite the cold winter night. His cheeks are wet with tears as he gently grasps at your growing stomach. He rests his head against the bump and attempts to feel for your child behind the barrier of your womb; to feel if it’s still there, undisturbed in its peaceful pod in your body.

There’s one comfort Arthur has and that’s the feeling of his unborn child within you. You’re only four months along and the bump has just become noticeable. Arthur’s breathing calms at the sensation of your warm skin against his flushed cheeks. His eyes feel hot from the panicked tears of his nightmare. He still trembles as the images of his nightmare blink into vision with every fall of his eyelids, but in time they dissipate. His trembling becomes faint once you brush your fingers through his hair.

The two of you lay in silence. The only sounds are the wet sniffles from Arthur’s nose while he rests his head on your torso. These nights become routine until the day your child is born.

Since the first day your daughter arrived, Arthur hadn’t slept. He’d watch her sleep in her tiny bassinet on the other side of the bed. His arms are laid across your waist and looped within your arms. He rubs his fingers against your skin while guarding his little princess, ready to leap across at the first sign of danger. The only way to get Arthur to fall asleep is to caress his hair and whisper soft reassurances. He’d fall asleep resting his head on your chest, listening to the calm beating of your heart.

Arthur would still wake up throughout the night, listening for your daughter’s breathing or perking his head up at the sound of a little cough or whimper. The only time the poor man would get sleep is when he’d put her down for a nap. You’d walk into the bedroom and find him softly snoring with your little girl on his chest. His large, calloused hands hold her in place.

Arthur finally begins to calm down when your daughter reaches her first birthday. A warmth inside him grows and starts to bloom like the once tight bud of a rose opening to reveal its lush layers of pedals. Arthur had always struggled with insecure relationships, but you and your daughter give him the security he desperately needed all those years ago.

His nightmares are less frequent, and instead he dreams of the gang. He misses them greatly: Miss Grimshaw, Lenny, John, and most of all Hosea. At night, Arthur dreams of introducing his little girl to Hosea. He would hand his giggling daughter to Hosea’s arms, and the old man would laugh with delight. Hosea would hold her up against the sun, basking in her glory. Her little legs kick happily as Hosea spins her around before bringing her close to kiss her chubby cheek. His silver hair and her golden locks both shine as the sun.

You wake early in the morning just before dawn and roll over to an empty space beside you. You could always sense Arthur’s absence shortly after he got up. The bed would feel larger and his spot would feel cold without his warm body. Blinking your dreary eyes, you see Arthur sitting on the edge of the bed with his head down low.

“Arthur?” You reach a hand out and faintly rub his back with your fingertips. Arthur looks over his shoulder and reaches behind him to hold your hand.

“I dreamt about Hosea again,” he answers you softly. A tiny smile is visible for a short moment, before a gloomy frown returns to his face.

Scooching closer to him, you ask, “A good one?” Your arms wrap around him, holding him close to you. Arthur instinctively leans his head as soon as your chin rests upon his tense shoulder, his earlobe just within kissing range. The tension in his shoulders relax at the feeling of your warm breath against his sensitive skin.

“Yeah,” he replies solemnly. He continues to frown at the bittersweet memory of Hosea.

You ask Arthur to describe his dream to you, and reassure him that it’s okay to miss his family. You giggle at the image of Hosea proudly holding your daughter high, showing her off to all the members at camp, teaching her to read, how to hold the reins on a horse, and how to steal people’s hearts.

“He would’ve spoiled her rotten,” Arthur croaks, the richness of his voice breaks slightly.

You smile through the pain of grief you both share. “Yeah he would’ve,” you state, “But you spoil her enough.”

Finally a chuckle rumbles lowly from Arthur, like a dim charcoal that’s been gently stoked back to flame.

Your daughter is the definition of a daddy’s girl. She hardly demands Arthur’s attention, as he’s more than ready to give it to her when she needs it. He’s the first to rise when hearing her wake from her bedroom across the hall. Your daughter happily waits to hear her father’s habitual greeting.

“Good mornin’ little bumblebee. How’d you sleep?” He’d always ask, scooping her up into his arms. She is always his little bumblebee, a nickname he thought of from her given name: Beatrice. He began to call her Bea for short, then soon after she became “bumble-Bea”.

Arthur presses his face against hers and rubs his scruffy beard against her cheek. Bea squeals in laughter at the rough sensation that tickles her cheek.

“Papaaaw! Staaaa-haaap!” She yells, attempting to push his squared jaw away with her petite hands. Her cries are quickly drowned out by Arthur’s rumbling chortles that echo through your small home.

Only Arthur can make his daughter’s special breakfast: pancakes and bacon. God forbid Daddy doesn’t make them for her. Arthur swears he doesn’t make them any different than you do, but somehow his pancakes taste better. The best is when he’s able to find wild berries and toss them in the batter. Those are Bea’s favorite.

Each day Bea gets older is another day Arthur grows happier. His worries will always linger though; anxieties always creeping behind his shoulder. He is not a man without his faults. He tends to be overprotective of you two when it comes to wandering the woods alone, staying alone in the house, or riding to town without him. Arthur won’t have it. His paranoia gets the better of him and his temper flares when you argue with him. He’ll slam the kitchen countertop and finalize his decision with an angry, “End of discussion!”

His anger quickly turns to guilt at the sight of Bea’s upturned lip, quivering in fear of his authoritative roar. She stands in the entryway with her teddy bear clutched in her arms, listening to you two argue and her little heart hammering. It’s rare she experiences this side of Arthur at her young age, no matter how frustrating she can be as a toddler.

That familiar whimper slowly rises to a wail. Bea attempts to keep a tight lip, whining through her closed mouth but her cries soon take over. She sputters and sobs as you pick her up and hold her against you, running your hands over her golden head.

It breaks Arthur’s heart to see Bea so upset, especially when he’s the cause of it. When it came to her crying for attention, you had to hold him back numerous times. Too often would he run to her room in the middle of the night at the first sound of her cries. You tried many times to explain to him that he should let her cry until she goes back to sleep. You had your maternal instincts to rely on when it came to knowing when to respond.

But Arthur? He can’t stand to hear his little bumblebee cry. He’s made too many mistakes as a father early in his life, so he strives to be the best he can be. And sometimes, he can try a little too hard.

Arthur’s favorite moments are those sitting by the fireplace after a hard day’s work. His stomach is full, the sky is dark, and the fire is warm. He watches the sparks pop from the dry firewood stacked in the flames. The creak of his rocking chair syncs with your voice like a metronome. You’re reading a storybook to Bea, who sits cradled in Arthur’s arms. Her hair is still damp from her evening bath, and she’s dressed in her fresh cotton nightgown. With Arthur’s arms wrapped around her, his palms placed in the crook of her knees, she idly fumbles with the sleeve of his shirt while listening to you read. Arthur struggles to stay awake with his head dropping occasionally and his eyelids growing heavy while Bea listens attentively to the story.

The story is indeed an interesting one, a children’s biblical story you were given by a church woman a couple years ago. She had seen you passing by the church after you stopped for supplies and offered it to you. A blessing for your little one, she said pointing to your pregnant belly. The old woman was kind and asked to pray for you and your child, to which you humbly accepted.

The story was of a man named Daniel, who served under a king and was accused of breaking the law of worship that forbid any man from praying to God without the aid of the king. He was ordered to be thrown into a den of lions, but when the king checked the next day, Daniel was alive. An angel was sent down from heaven and shut the mouth of the lions, saving Daniel’s life.

Bea was enraptured by the story and asks you, “Are angels real?”

Closing the book, you open your mouth to answer until Arthur speaks up.

“ ‘f course they’re real,” he says softly, “We all got a guardian angel.”

Bea lifts her head off his shoulder and looks to him with glistening eyes, “Even me?” She asks.

A crooked smile adorns Arthur’s lips, “Of course,” he answers, breaking eye contact with Bea and gazing over at you with a loving stare.

Arthur lets you slip into bed as he offers to tuck your daughter in. Her lamp on the nightstand dimly lights her room in a honey glow.

“Y’know, yer mama’s an angel,” Arthur whispers, pulling the sheets over her. “Did you know that?”

Her eyes grow wide and she replies with a shocked whisper, “No.”

Arthur smiles and nods his head, “It’s true. Now don’t tell her,” he warns, looking back at the doorway. The door is cracked only slightly to let in the light from your bedroom across the hall. “She ain’t supposed to know that we know,” Arthur says.

“Why not?” Bea asks, gripping the edge of the quilt.

“Well, then she can’t have her powers no more.” Arthur answers.

“But how do you know she’s an angel?”

Arthur looks at your daughter with a fondness in his eyes. She has the same curiosity as you do. His thoughts are immediately flooded with memories of that terrifying night at Beaver Hollow.

Arthur breathes a deep sigh. “She saved my life,” he explains, “Y’see, Daddy was hurt real bad. And she came flyin’ in on her white horse and saved me. She told me everythin’ was gonna be alright...and then she carried me home.”

His daughter looks at him in shock, her jaw dropped. “Wow,” she says.

Arthur nods his head and smiles at his daughter’s astonishment. He reminds her, “Now remember, this is just between me and you,” he tucks her in tighly in her warm blankets, “Okay?”

She nods her head so hard she nearly makes herself dizzy.

“That’sa good girl,” Arthur praises softly, “Now, go to sleep. I love you.”

He kisses her forehead just before she wraps her arms around her neck, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too, Daddy.” She says sleepily.

For the rest of Arthur’s life, he firmly believed he had not one, but two guardian angels who loved him.

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 18

Title: Beatrice

Wordcount: 2986

Warning: grumpy reader

Tags: @rollyjogerjones

AN: Time jump, fight me. (please don’t)

________________

You slept on your cot soundly when you feel the tiny person next to you start to squirm. You roll over and wrap your arms around your daughter as she begins to wake up. 

“Good morning, my love.” You say to her softly. 

You named her Beatrice after Arthur’s mother, but she was mainly referred to as Bea. You found out you were pregnant about a month after Arthur, your father and some of the other men went missing. That was almost three years ago. You didn’t ever think you’d be a mother. But with Abigail’s help, and Henry’s, you have been able to get through it. 

Around that time as well Henry and Sadie were able to break John out and he was back helping where he could, along with Charles. Sadie took over the role of a leader and she thrived. She, John and Charles would do the hunting. She would also do what she could to find out if the men were even alive still.

You wanted to do more but your pregnancy was not good. You were sick most of the time. Abigail and Miss Grimshaw said it was probably also from the stress of Arthur going missing and Hosea passing. 

It had been two years and you were still in shock about Hosea. He always seemed like the glue that held it all together. And now that he was gone you didn’t know how together everyone would be when the boys were able to get back. If ever. 

Sadie had helped us set up camp in a small run-down place called Lakay. It was a dump at first but slowly you’d been able to make it into a steady camp with everyone’s help.

Henry had become extremely sick. In fact, he almost died shortly after saving John. You were able to get him to rest and eventually he recovered. Lord knows how. But he still did have a real nasty cough that never seemed to go away. He said he was fine but even a few years later you can tell he never really recovered.

Bear was still a good boy. He mostly would sleep if he wasn’t following Bea around as she learned to walk.

Bea was an amazing little girl. She had her father’s eyes and your dark hair. As she learned to walk and would chase around Jack, her porcelain skin developed tiny freckles. She only said a handful of words, if that. Mainly the words consisted of, ‘momma,’ ‘bear,’ and Miss Grimshaw’s favorite, ‘Grimmy.’ You noticed, however, she’s been trying to say Henry’s name.

 Bea loved when you would play your violin for her and Jack or when you’d let her pluck the strings while you read next to her. You wished every night that Arthur could meet her. 

Bea let out a soft giggle pulling you from your thoughts. You smiled at her as she played with the ringlets of your hair. “Should we go see if Pearson is making breakfast?” Your little girl giggled in response. 

You sat up in bed and stretched before slipping your shoes on. You looked at Arthur’s hat on the old bedside table. You never wore it. It made you feel sad. Bea, however, loved wearing it.

You did wear Arthur’s blue shirt constantly. At first, it was because it smelt like him. But over time it began to lose the smell. Once you were ready you picked up Bea and began to head outside with Bear following behind. 

“Y/N!” Pearson called to you. “And little miss Bea is up as well I see.” He turns around before handing you a small bowl. “You were saying you want her to start getting used to solids more since she’s been having trouble right?” You nodded looking at the bowl. “I made some porridge and mixed some fruit in so she can work on the chewing without hurting her teeth.”

“Thank you so much, Pearson!” You smile at him before looking at Bea. “Did you hear that? He made special food for you. Should we go look at the water and eat it?”

By the time you sat on the old rickety rocking chair Bea was already mostly covered in the food as she ate. You rocked slowly humming to her as she ate her breakfast with her little dimpled hands. As you lean back into the chair you close your eyes and accidentally doze off. 

 ___________________

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep. But Bear barking somewhere in the camp made you jump in your seat. You looked around a bit trying to catch your bearings. Bea was softly snoring in your arms. The bowl was empty but you were pretty sure most of the contents were on her face. You chuckled to yourself and used your sleeve to try and wipe off the food from her naturally rosy cheeks. 

You had almost completely cleaned her off when you heard the wood of the deck creak from someone stepping on to it. You figured it was Sadie or Grimshaw coming to tease you for falling asleep. You stood up while adjusting Bea in your arms.

“I’m sorry I dozed off. It’s so hard to get Bea to sleep when she’s teeth-...” As you turned around it wasn’t Sadie or Miss Grimshaw that was standing in front of you.

The first thing you looked at was his eyes. His beautiful green-blue eyes. Then as your jaw dropped you saw his wonderful smile you missed so much. “Arthur?”

“You know, my whole time riding here I thought about somethin’ clever to say to you.” Arthur stepped closer to you as you looked at him in shock. “But then I saw your face, and my mind went completely blank.”

Tears began to form in your eyes and Arthur quickly wiped them away softly as he chuckled. “And I’m even more at a loss of words because of…” He looked down at Bea who was starting to stir.

“You’re alive…” You mumble.

“Yes, my love, I think you should know by now I’d always come back to you.” He leaned in and kissed your lips tenderly. His lips were extremely dry but at the moment you didn’t quite care. He pulled back and chuckled again, “Are you gonna introduce us?”

You blinked as you snapped back to reality. “Oh, my cowboy. You missed a lot.” You said cheerfully. Bea sat her head up from your shoulder and gave Arthur a groggy confused look. She took in his face before hiding in the crook of your neck. “My little Bea,” You said to her softly, “Remember how every night I tell you about your daddy who is the greatest cowboy around?” She peaked at him a bit as Arthur looked at you as you called him her father.

“This is him,” You smile at her. “This is your daddy. He came home.” You looked up at him and smiled, “Daddy, this is your baby girl, I named her Beatrice but we all call her Bea.”

Arthur still seemed at a loss for words as Bea looked him up and down. “You gonna say hi?” You ask smiling.

Arthur blinks a bit before holding a hand out to Bea. She looks at him a bit weary but softly grabs one of his fingers. There seems to be some sort of spark in Arthur when her hand touches his. His eyes light up and he’s smiling like a goof. You hold Bea out to him a bit. Arthur gives you a worried look real quick but takes her in his arms.

They click instantly. She lays her head on his shoulder as he introduces himself. “Hiya Miss Bea, it looks like I’m your daddy. I’m sorry I’m so late.” He rubs her chubby cheek with the pad of his thumb. He glances at you. “I’m really sorry I’m late.” He says again to you this time.

“Better late than never.” You sigh.

Arthur smiles at you before looking back to Bea, “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, other than your momma.” He lifts Bea up in the air who giggles in excitement. 

“Arthur?” You hear Sadie call from behind him. He turns around putting Bea in the crook of his arm as she keeps a tight grasp on his other hand. “Oh my god!” She hurries up and gives him a tight hug. “And it looks like you two have already been introduced!”

“I… I really wasn’t expecting…” He glances down at Bea who returns his look with a smile.

“Neither was your wife.” Sadie teases.

“Oh, Sadie, not again.” You groan softly as the two turn their attention to you.

“When the doctor told her she damn near fainted.” You roll your eyes, embarrassed.

“I didn’t think I’d be gettin’ pregnant anytime soon.” Arthur leans in and kisses you again. 

“I’m proud of you, baby.” He hums.

“Oh, you two, back to being cute and disgusting. Come in and see everyone, Arthur.” Sadie pretends to be disgusted as she walks to the cabin calling for everyone.

“We better go.” You grab Bea as she reaches for you.

Arthur grabs your free hand and you can tell he won’t be letting go any time soon. 

 ____________________

You walk into the cabin as Bea is blabbering in her own language. Bear is hopping around Arthur’s legs and Arthur is trying not to trip.

“Arthur!” Henry says before covering his mouth to let out a cough.

“You still sick?” Arthur asks as Henry shakes his hand.

“He was battling TB while you were gone, Mr. Morgan.” You say to him.

“Barely survived too.” Henry sighs.

Arthur shakes his head and pats Henry’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

As Henry moves out of the way Arthur is attacked by every other camp member. They ask if he knew about Hosea and Lenny. Abigail smacks his arm for not being careful. Arthur is taken aback a bit when he sees Jack is now seven and no longer a tiny four-year-old.

The door behind us opens and John and Charles walk in. They’d been out hunting since the day before. “Arthur?” John asks right away.

“Hey, you’re out,” Arthur says as he pulls his brother into a hug.

“Uh... Yeah, Sadie and Henry got me out.” John explains with shock still on his face.

“I’m glad you're back,” Charles adds, shaking Arthur’s hand. “You met Bea right?” 

“She’s amazing,” Arthur mumbles as he sneaks a peek at Bea and me as we talk to Jack. He smiles thinking I don't see him looking. 

“Where're the others?” John asks.

“We all came to shore separately,” Arthur says as the door opens again and Javier and Micah walk in. 

“Javier!” the group cheers. All ignoring Micah, except Henry who shakes his hand.

Micah right away looks towards me and sees Bea. “You moved on from Morgan?” He asked, already seeming to want to pick a fight. 

“Arthur, why didn’t you leave that one wherever y'all were?”  You ask ignoring his comment.

Arthur sighs and stands next to you. “Tried shakin’ him, but he just kept showin’ up.”

Micah rolls his eyes, “Oh har har.” 

 ________________

It was long into the night when the next person arrived. No one had gone to sleep due to the excitement. Arthur looked like he was going to throw a bigger fit than Bea when you said you were going to put her to bed. 

“Well, how about you join me so maybe next time you can put her down.” He liked that idea and stood up to follow you to your own cabin. As you walked outside you noticed the rain pouring down. 

Arthur watched as you tucked Bea closer to you before you and him dashed across to your little cabin. Arthur looked around as you began to rock Bea. “Here it is…” Arthur whispers and picks his hat up placing it on his head. 

“You look good.” You say softly. You placed a finger on Bea’s forehead before slowly bringing it down to the tip of her nose. A trick you learned from Abigail that helps babies fall asleep. And as it had all the past nights, Bea slowly began to drift off until she was out like a light.

“You’re really good at that,” Arthur whispers. You glance up at him and smile. You had forgotten he was in the room. When you rock Bea you tend to forget about the world. 

“I have a few years of practice.” You put Bea down softly in the center of the cot and put a pillow down to keep her from rolling off. 

“Y/N… I wanted to come back sooner…” He takes your hands and holds them up to his lips so he can kiss them.

“What happened, Arthur?” You rub his cheek as he sits on the cot next to you. He lets out a long sigh he seemed to have been holding in for a while. He glances at Bea and smiles before looking back at you. 

“Dutch… he… When we got there there was a civil war goin’ on. And I said we should try to get back. But Dutch wanted to be Dutch and volunteered us to help. I didn’t know it would take two goddamn years…” He looked down at his hands.

“What is it?”

“He’s killed… a lot. Even an old lady who just wanted more money for helping us. He’s changed, Y/N.” You pulled your husband into a hug. You pretended you didn’t feel your shoulder get wet as he broke down a bit. “I can’t believe I wasn’t here for you.”  

“It’s okay. I had a lot of help.” You push him back a bit and quickly wipe his eyes. “I’m so happy you’re home.” 

“I’m so happy I’m home.” He agreed, leaning in to kiss you. 

When his lips were less than an inch from yours there was a knock at the door. You suppress a groan, “It’s already starting again.” Arthur chuckles before standing and walking to the door. 

“It’s about time you showed up,” Arthur says sarcastically and moves out of the way so you can see your father.

“Father.” You say excitedly. You got off the bed and ran up to him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” You say as he pulls you into a hug.

“Oh, my daughter. I missed you so much.” His voice was just a bit too loud so you and Arthur both shushed him. “Excuse me?” He asks, a bit offended.

“We just got Bea to sleep,” Arthur explains, but it seems to confuse him more.

“Bea?” 

You lead him over to your cot where Bea is softly snoring, “I found out about her a month after you all disappeared.” 

Dutch glances at Bea. You see him smile a bit but then it drops and he turns giving Arthur a dirty look. “So while I needed your help in Saint Denise you were sleeping with my daughter?” He asks, angry.

“Whoa, father. We were married.” You say trying to calm him.

“That too. Did you once ask me, or her brother? You just decided to do it all yourself?” Dutch jabs a finger in Arthur’s chest. You notice Arthur is struggling not to argue back.

“Father!” You say sharply, “It was all my idea. You are just tired. Go to sleep and you can meet her in the morning.” 

You attempt to nudge him towards the door but he stands firm. “I need you two to stop thinking about yourselves and playing house, and think about the rest of this goddamn group.” His voice gets loud again. Bea starts to whine a bit making you shift your attention to her. Dutch doesn’t like that, “Do I make myself clear Y/N?” He shouts. 

You pick up Bea and start trying to calm her down. “Get out of my room Dutch.” You say coldly. “You don’t get to disappear for three years and come back demanding.”

Arthur stands between the two of you, “Dutch, just go sleep. You’re tired.”

“There wouldn’t be a damn group anymore if it hadn’t been for Sadie, Charles and I.” You say ignoring Arthur. “How about a damn thank you.”

Dutch throws his hands up, “So entitled! The only one who still believes in me seems to be Henry and Micah! You need to have faith and trust me!” 

“Oh fuck Micah, he’s a damn rat anyway.” You admit.

“I highly doubt that,” Dutch says throwing away what you said completely. “If anyone is a damn rat it’s John or…” He stops and turns away.

“Or who, Dutch, me?” You scoff and hand Bea to Arthur who is pleading with you to drop it for the night. “Listen here father, you don’t have to believe me. It’ll probably bite you in the ass sometime later. But since joining this goddamn gang I have been nothin’ but faithful. We are a family. You need to take a deep breath and think before you speak. There is no more Hosea to be your voice of reason. Now get. Out. Of. My. Room.” 

Dutch glares at you but turns and leaves slamming the door behind him. As soon as the door shuts your legs turn into jelly and you sink to the floor, freaking out Arthur behind you. 

“Y/N!” He calls but you hold up a hand.

“I’m okay.” You don’t get up but you look over your shoulder at him. “Thank you, for not getting in the way… That was a lot of pent up anger I needed to get out.”  He shakes his head and lends a hand out to you which you accept.

“It kept me from snapping at him.” You took Bea from him and kissed her forehead.

“I see what you mean about him changing.”

[reddeadrevival]

RedDeadRevival - Master List (List)

Please check if the ask box is open AND read my “What I write” post before sending in an ask. Thank you.  

Match Ups - Master List

NSFT/W - Master List

Character Specific - Master List

Angst - Master List

💛 - no specific genre

🧡 - Moderate to Low Fluff

❤️ - High Fluff

💙 - Moderate to Low Smut

💜 - High Smut

💚 - Moderate to Low Angst

🖤 - High Angst

(if any of the hearts don’t seem to fit, let me know and I’ll fix it)

Headcanons

💛 Ages of the Van Der Linde Gang

❤️ / 💙 Lovey Dovey Headcanons (Some nsft) Bill and Kieran

💛 Pokemon AU: Pikachu, Arcanine , Absol, Togepi,  Togepi 2,

❤️ Chubby S/O - Bill and Micah

💛 War (Undead Nightmare) Horse HCs

🧡 Cuddly S/O - Kieran and Bill

🧡 Cuddly S/O - Micah and Sean

🧡 Random “Imagine” Headcanons

💛 Reactions to “Modern” Music

🧡 Helping with Panic Attack/Anxiety - Charles, Sadie, Sean, Javier

🧡 Poly relationship with Javier, Charles & Lenny

💛 Sniper S/O - Javier, Charles, Arthur

💙 Reaction to Bandana Kink (SFW) - Javier, Arthur, Bill

💛 Modern!AU Roommate Headcannons

💛 If they had a kid - Charles, Bill, Javier

💛 If they had a kid - Dutch, Micah

🧡 Kieran x Mary-Beth Headcanons

🧡 Petnames for their S/O (Dutch, Micah, Arthur, John, Javier, Kieran, Charles)

🧡 Petnames from their S/O (Dutch, Micah, Arthur, John, Javier, Kieran, Charles)

🧡 Giving them gifts - Javier, Micah, Kieran, Arthur, Bill

❤️ Super ticklish s/o - Sean, Kieran, Arthur

🧡 Sweet Baby Names from S/O - Dutch, John, Kieran

❤️ /  💚 Reaction to learning you share his feelings (Arthur, John, Kieran, Sean, Bill, Micah)

❤️ Comforting their s/o after Dutch yells at them (Arthur, Charles, John, Javier)

❤️ Crush/ s/o who helps everyone - Arthur, Kieran, Charles

🧡 S/O Scared of Storms - Lenny, Charles, Micah

🧡 Getting caught making out - Charles, Micah, John

❤️ The gang helping you through a depressive episode

🧡  Sleeping next to them when you have a bad dream/can’t sleep (Hosea, Bill, Micah, Dutch)

💛 Reacting to you getting taken by the pinkertons (Kieran, Arthur, Sean)

💛 Saving Them From the pinkersons (Kieran, Arthur, Sean)

🧡 Javier and Charles find an abandoned baby

!Readers

💛 Accident Prone! Reader

💛 Asthmatic! Reader

💛 Autistic! Reader

💛 Blind! Reader

💛 Deaf/Mute! Reader

💛 Magician! Reader

💛 Modern! Reader / Vines

💛 Self-Insert(/Modern?)! Reader

💛 Photographer! Reader

💛 Proven Psychic! Reader

🧡 Pregnant!Reader (Kieran, Micah, Bill, Javier)

💛 Telekinesis Using Reader

🧡 Self Conscious Reader (Javier, John, Arthur, Dutch)

💛 Superhuman! Reader

💛 Demon! (Horns/Tail/Fire) Reader

💛 Afraid of Spiders - Finds a Spider

💛 Werewolf!Reader

💚 Reader Who left (Angst?)

💛 Reader with extremely heavy Australian accent

💛 Alchemist!Reader

🧡 Epileptic!Reader

💙 Succubus!Reader (Sean, Kieran, Charles)

💛 Read who’s good at Parkour

💛 Cyborg! Reader

❤️ Very Soft!Reader (John, Arthur, Javier)

💛 Jack finds a Mermaid!Reader

FICs (with OCs not Readers)

Stealing Our Place in the Sun (Possible Kieran x OC)

  (If I missed something let me know and I’ll add it to the right list)

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Chubby Arthur x Chubby Reader Modern Headcannons pt. 2

Okok! This was an anon request so I hope you really enjoy this! I love writing for our chunky boy, Chubby Arthur fills the soul with happiness, chunky, thicc, big thighs, massive hands- 

ANYWAY

This is a continuation of part one! 

Which a link to can be found here along with the rest of my modern Arthur headcannons! 

Lets GO 

Tags!: (Let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!) @kieropal @mrsarthurmorgan7 @cantchoosejust1​ @beea-nie​

Warnings!: Chubby Arthur x Chubby Reader, as GN as possible maybe SLIGHT hints at a female reader, SMUT more than likely implied and or just straight up there so 18+ 

LETS GO 

(My image cause my Arthur is chunky rn <3)

Alright I am a horny bastard

so 

unfortunately for you the beginning of this is DIRECTLY just gonna be chunky reader and chunky Arthur’s favorite sex information

He, as a large man, loves to be dominate towards you, he loves the power it gives him, it’s fantastic for him to see his MASSIVE hands wrap around you, regardless as to if it’s your neck, your thighs, your stomach, which by the way

he loves your tummy

the fact that its soft and not flat is actually what he prefers.

He goes after big people rather than small people anyway.

You just happened to be the lucky one he falls for lmao.

Continuing off of what I said in part one

He’s incredibly, INCREDIBLY insecure in the bedroom, especially in the beginning

Yes, he loves to be dominant, but he’s also constantly afraid he isn’t good looking enough for you to even want to have sex with him.

Which is one of the stupidest things he could ever think EVER

after that first night, as mentioned in the first part, he is a lot more confident, but he always overestimates how much he actually needs to do to rile you up.

Like

he thinks that he has to work SO hard to get you ready to have sex with him but 

that man can breathe and you want to take his pants off

like

you love how big he is

and he thinks that it’s the main reason you wouldn’t want to be with him

but you literally love that soft stomach but beefy chest and arms

it’s so hot to you

DAD BOD

it’s amazing

and when you tell him that he doesn’t believe you so the foreplay tends to go on FOREVER, but you are totally okay with it.

He speaks to you in that low voice of his, that tone just gets to you and he KNOWS it

That is one of the few things he is confident about, he’ll watch your face go to a deep crimson while he talks to you and it makes his body wake up in ways he didn’t realize were possible. 

He also kisses all over your body, every bit of it that you don’t like.

Your tummy gets almost all of his attention all of the time.

He loves it, even if you don’t and he likes to gently trace over your stretch marks, because he thinks they’re beautiful.

He doesn’t think that stretch marks are just something that pregnant people, or people who have been pregnant get, he knows that peoples bodies change and grow, and he likes the fact that yours is so natural.

He also thinks they make your body even more artful, and when he draws (Because Modern Arthur still draws in a little journal that Hosea got him and continues to get him every year for christmas) he always makes sure to draw in your stretch marks 

he refuses to allow you to hide them

He kisses all of them

He kisses the stretch marks on your breasts too >;)

The ones on your thighs, literally, all of the stretch marks he finds, they get kissed.

He loves your thighs too, I’m pretty sure I told you that in the first part, but its important information to have

He loves them

he literally 

like

bro

he wishes he could take you to work just to play with them while he did paperwork for certain cars

Comes home, sees you on the couch?

BOOM 

Laying his head on them thiccums

He loves it when you play with his thighs too

because they are so sensitive

So like

if things are getting hot and heavy

sit on his lap

make out with him

and gently

ever so gently

run your fingertips along his thighs, palm him through his jeans, but make sure you touch his inner thighs at the same time

He will literally whine

He LOVES how it feels like

its such a tease and it is so good

Also

return the favor of kissing his stomach

he will thank you

he is just as insecure as you are

So if you kiss his tum and tell him that you like his just as much as he likes yours then he will feel so much better about things and himself. 

ALSO

While he loves to be dominate and he loves to take control of things in the bedroom, he also loves it when you take control

Chunky Arthur specifically

He loves it when you decide that you want to do everything, like

he just thinks its fantastic when you’re confident enough to do so

he also like

loves it

if you

*ahem*

edge him a little

he doesn’t like to admit it out loud, but that’s something he loves

play with his thighs until he can’t handle it any longer and he’s begging for you to do more.

;) 

He loses his mind a little in those moments

It’s been a long day at work, he’s had a bad time and just 

He wants to be with you, he’s literally always in the mood, so like, he’s gonna wanna have some time with you, ya know, but

instead of letting him do it

maybe you take it slow, and you decide that you’ll make things better for him, for sure, but you’re gonna make him beg for it

He might protest against it at first, because he’s got a clouded look on things from having a bad day, but like

just coax him into it

Tell him you’d love to tie him up so he can’t touch you while you do it.

He’ll eventually cave and he’ll love it

Just don’t give in too easily

He’ll beg very easily

I mean

he will beg almost instantly, he loves how attractive you are, and to him there is no person who could be hotter than you ever

so he will be a begging, whining, whimpering mess incredibly easily.

Just dont’ let the fun end too quickly, make him hold out a bit

By the way

I wasn’t kidding last part

Arthur literally met you in that bar and fifteen minutes into talking to you he imagined his entire future with you

owning a house with you

marrying you

like

literally

fifteen minutes into talking to you

FIFTEEN

like

He knew

and it’s just so sweet

he also talks to Dutch and Hosea about how to propose to you by the way

he has no idea how to go about it

he thinks you’re absolutely stunning and even after a year or two of dating you he still gets so nervous when it comes to complimenting you sometimes

Hosea suggests taking you out somewhere that’s special to the two of you and Arthur knows exactly where to take you. 

Theres a little overlook area not too far away from where he works, that he took you too on one of your dates

and it was the first place that you two told each other that you love one another

so he knew 

he had to take you there 

When he does you remember the place and you tell him that you’re so happy that he brought you there

That place holds a lot of memories for you and it makes you a little sentimental

You’re looking at the overpass area and when you turn to look at him he’s knelt on the ground with a ring held out towards you and a look that’s bordering between anxious and excited

You literally say yes to him before he can even ask you 

Which by the way

made him the most excited person you’ve ever seen in your entire life

the fact that you love him so much

just makes him so happy 

He loves you just as much, perhaps even more

(At least that’s what he says but we all know that you both love each other equally and just fall more and more in love with one another the longer you’re together)

Chunky Arthur also will stand up for you all the time

if the two of you are out together and someone starts to make fun of your weight

even if it’s a passing statement, like

barely even a whisper

if he hears it

he will literally start a fist fight

He has done it on multiple occasions

and gotten the cops called on him a couple of times

And lets be real

you care about him and don’t want to see him hurt, or see him in jail, but every time that he fights on your behalf it’s literally the most attractive thing ever

he’s strong

like

fuck 

he’s so strong.

His arms you cannot stop looking at them

literally

cannot

Also, after fights if his injuries aren’t so dire that you have to go to the hospital you end up taking care of him at home

which he loves how caring you are towards him which makes him even angrier at the people who make fun of you

Usually after fights like that when he just comes home with small cuts and bruises he will be incredibly sweet and gentle with you and def gives you a good night of making love to make sure that you feel loved

not to say that’s the only way he knows to make you feel loved

he does tons of little things all the time to make you feel loved

He’s one of those guys who likes to leave you little notes around the house to remind you how much he cares about you and how beautiful and smart you are

He gets you flowers all the time too

I mean

he gets them all the time

they aren’t just for special occasions

yes, you get them on anniversaries and on your birthday and for christmas and valentines day but like

he gets them for you at LEAST once a month

they’ll show up to your work on a random tuesday afternoon with a note attached and it just makes you love him more than anyone could love anyone in the whole world

He isn’t a poet, but he does often leave you little love poems

(Most of which were made with a lot of Hosea’s help)

He does literally every cute thing known to man to show you how much he loves you

He takes you out to eat to your favorite restaurants all the time too, for no specific reason other than he wants to

He likes to take you on drives too, like

he loves to do it

he loves to just see how much you smile with the windows down and the music going

He just 

does everything

you call him perfect literally all the time

even though he isn’t because he’s a human and he tries to tell you that all the time but 

he is perfect lets be honest here.

When it comes back to your wedding

He DEMANDS

that you pick whatever dress/suit/tux you want

whatever dress

and like

he thinks that no matter what you wear you’ll look amazing, you could wear a trash bag and he’d love it, but he wants you to know that you can buy the most expensive thing you want

he has no limit on that

there is a limit on the rest of the wedding, but it’s very high because 

A: He is willing to pay off whatever debt he has to for you to be happy with the wedding

and

B: Dutch, Hosea, Charles, John, literally even Bill and the rest of his family are willing to pay for a LOT of the wedding.

So 

You get to pick whatever dress and or tux and or suit you want, and Arthur wants you to feel beautiful because you are

You say he HAS to wear a tux, or a suit, and he agrees, especially if you’re gonna wear something nice

he wants to be there for you and he wants to look attractive to you.

Even though he thinks hes fat and ugly you think that he looks amazing in whatever he wears

So of course he will dress up for you, plus he wants to look nice for pictures

don’t worry 

by the way

when it comes time for the wedding he will keep his stubble he won’t shave it all off

he like its too much and thinks he looks funky if he doesn’t have at least a little facial hair

He won’t go full beard, but he will keep the stubble

Arthur absolutely LOVES 

I mean LOVES

how the wedding comes out

like

he had a blast, he was with the person he loved the most and he got to officially call you his Wife/husband

The wedding reception is so fun

He dances with you, the first dance, the first couple dance, it’s

I mean

COME ON 

The two of you dance to

All Your’n by Tyler Childers

Dutch cries

Hosea is actually the one who doesn’t and Dutch is like sobbing directly into Hosea’s shoulder

He just thinks the two of you are so cute 

With your tummies bumping each other while you slow dance

Then Hosea dances with you and it’s Arthur’s turn to sob uncontrollably in the background

He’s watching his dad and you dance around and he just marvels at how beautiful you are and he sees you crying yourself against Hoseas shoulder with a massive smile on your face

John is slapping his shoulder and calling him lovingly “Big Man!” 

Everyone parties

I mean

Everybody

Sean asks the DJ to play Cotton Eye Joe and Cupid Shuffle

Which 

Arthur fucking DOMINATES

Cotton Eye Joe, has the whole dance routine memorized

This one lmao 

Cupid shuffle you dance right next to him

Like 

It’s just so much fun

everyone is so excited

By the time its the end of the night

and everyone goes home

Arthur and you

have THE BEST

night ever

because first off

you don’t even go home for very long

you drop off your clothes get into something more comfortable

and you grab the stuff you two have packed 

and get going to your honeymoon

There is a hotel near the airport where you two have a flight the next day

that’s where you two go

and 

THAT PLACE

HAS 

A 

HOT TUB BATHTUB

IN THE HOTEL ROOM

he literally is like

“Let’s take a bath together and relax”

you 

do not

relax

He sits behind you, and he does be nice at first, washing your hair, and rubbing your back

kissing your shoulder and your neck

and then

his hand travels a little lower, and finds your thighs and roams over them with gentle movements

He knows exactly what to do, and he pushes his fingers into you the way he knows you like

By the time the end of the night comes around that man has you squatting on his dick in the bathtub, and you love every second of it

You literally forget that you’re a little heavier set, as you usually do when you’re with him

because he can literally lift you with ease, due to his own large nature

The two of you are just

like

the perfect power couple

away from one another you’re insecure

but together your confidence goes up so much that anyone in a 50 mile radius is DEAD

[arthur-his-hat]

I couldnt find if you've written something like that but headcanons for Charles, Javier, Arthur and Kieran (if that's too much then choose whichever you'd like) with chubby, curvy self conscious reader? Maybe Micah makes fun of her and oh booah hell breaks loose

i gotchu !!!!

written with female reader !

-

charles

charles is one of those people that thinks if you compliment someone too much it loses its value

so you won’t get a whole lot of compliments from him but rest assured he is very very in love with your curves

he finds them so fucking attractive like dude you have no idea

when he catches micah picking at you for being curvy he’s ready to throw hands

he can deal with micah calling him racist names and such but the second he says something ab u

bitch it’s on like donkey kong

beats the ever living christ outta micah no joke like it takes arthur, dutch, hosea, john, and javier to pull him away from micah and even then he was breaking loose

so yeah micah doesn’t talk about you/to you anymore

-

javier

oh man he compliments you about your curves all the time

he’s a boobs man through and through so if ya got a nice rack he’s gonna touch it and talk about it ???

but loves the dip in your waist sm like he has a thing for it idk why

and when micah is picking on this perfect figure you have ???? he’s so angry and confused ???

javier isn’t a resort to violence guy, he’d rather talk it out. but with micah there is no reason

so he gives micah this look. i don’t know how to explain it but it’s a l o o k

for some reason it scares micah enough to get him to quit talking shit

-

arthur

he isn’t above showing his anger i’ll tell you that rn

first of all he lives for ur curves ???? arthur just likes fuller women in general but curves goddamn he can die for them happily

and miCAH TALKING SHIT DOESNT DO ANYTHING BUT PISS HIM OFf

beats he fuck outta him

and he does it away from camp so he can really lay into micah and not stop lolololololol whoops

-

kieran

don’t get me wrong i love kieran but the fact that he’s already terrified to even speak in camp makes me think he wouldn’t really do too much if micah was talking shit

but as far as living for ur curves mmm baby does he love them.

he counts himself as the luckiest man alive to have a bangin baby like you like damn

if he does happen to hear micah talk shit the best he can do is growl under his breath and mumble out a snide remark that no one can hear

but he’s pissy rest assured he has dreams ab killing micah.

[somethinwickedthiswayrides]

Masterlist

First shot at a masterlist, hope I can figure out how the hell this works. :\ Let me know if any links are broken or aren’t going to the right one.

My face - if that’s somethin ya’ll wanted to see. :\

Smol baby - me again. lol

It’s been a month

Stuff I’ve come up with:

Animal Affinity - Gang reacts to a reader who has an unnatural affinity with animals.

Horsey Headcanons - My headcanons about the horses in camp!

Trapper/Camp/Satchel - Animal parts needed

Requests: (SEND ME SOME PLEASE!)

Arthur breaks the reader out of jail - Angst!

Equinophobia - Kieran helps a reader who has a fear of horses.

Girls headcanons - my headcanons about hanging out with the girls at camp!

Dance with me? - Reader ask’s Charles to dance at Sean’s welcome back party!

Wasn’t so hard was it? - Micah tries to teach the reader to play poker only to make a different kind of bet.

You’re not ‘fine’ you’re sick! - Kieran gets himself sick and the reader takes care of him.

Accidentally calling Dutch/Hosea ‘dad’ - pretty much what the title is.

Drunk Headcanons! - Charles, Arthur, Javier

Model - Arthur ask’s the reader to model for him

Anytime - Reader takes care of an injured Micah

Fight Song - Charles teaches the reader how to fight

Competition - Micah bell is trying to win over a Fe!Reader!

Dutch and Hosea - Who’s more likely for a Whump moment?

Bill - Some headcanons for Bill Williamson fluff

Charles & Javier - react to Micah insulting their S/O

Kieran - reacts to a more obvious Fem!Reader liking him

Competition for love - Sean, Charles, and Kieran all vying for readers affection.

Bill finds out that reader was captured and tortured by O’Driscoll’s - ANGST!

Karen falls for Fem!Reader - And has to chose between Sean and reader.

Javier - reacts to someone else in camp flirting with his S/O

Flower Crown Fiasco - BILL FLUFF

Who says ‘I love you’ first? - Arthur fluff

MOAR BILL FLUFF - Reader is chubby and insecure with themselves and what Bill does about it.

Sean get jealous over Kieran having your attention - pure sweet fluff and typical Sean is an idiot.

A story that can only end in tragedy - opinions/headcanons on if Micah was the first death.

Kieran romance - reader is tailor made for the ask!

You have wings?! - reader has a set of wings and is terrified of the gang finding out!

Who would bring in a cat? - Who out of the gang would be the most likely to bring in a stray cat.

What would make them cry? - What would it take to make the men in camp cry? Mostly angst, but a bit of humor!

Your horse is a what?! - DRAGON BABAH!

X-ray fever - Gang reacts to a reader who is taking x-rays for research.

Spirit - Reader gets visions of the events that the Van Der Linde gang go through.

I love you - 100 follower special (NSFT)

I don’t wanna go alone! - Reader can float but is perceived as lazy

A Short Walk in a Pretty Town - Reader is Immortal and takes the bullet meant for Sean.

Soulmate - Sean, Kieran, Micah

Kieran Deserved Better - Reader dotes on Kieran

Bath Time - Kieran, Charles, Arthur, Sean, Javier, Bill, John, Micah

Bath Time 2 - Dutch, Sadie, Abigail

Comfort - Kieran & Sean

Bad Blood - Mother nature coming in like ‘what up bitches’

Ninja - Reader is a ninja, and basically me geeking out over weapons.

And Now I Weep - Arthur, John, Kieran, Javier, Sean, Bill, Charles, Micah react to the reader breaking up with them.

Kieran x Mary-Beth - shipfic

Spoiling Kieran - Spoil the horse boi

Stuff I’ve asked for (cause I’ve seriously NEVER seen this!) (I reblog anything someone takes the time to make for me, I’ll be linking the reblog but GO SUPPORT THESE PEOPLE!):

WAR - RDR1′s Undead Nightmare horses as readers main steed! (I know it said anon, but I had no idea how it worked and I guess I checked the box and forgot to uncheck it, i was just hittin buttons.)

Karen matchup! - :D:D:D

Accent appreciation - Sean, Molly, and Javier react to a reader who is weak for an accent.

Plucking the cords - Javier teaches the reader to play guitar

A sad return - Arthur/Javier return from Guarma to find their S/O on their deathbed. Dutch update!

I need to feel something - Javier returns from a long trip and is on edge (NSFT)

Lily Asteria - @anna-morgan1901 drew this for me! I didn’t even ask for it she just did it! I’m so happy!

Sadie x Molly - My fic for winning 4th place in @seanmacguires giveaway~ :D

[12timetraveler]

Hi! I understand you have a bunch of WIP but I'm going to add to the pile 😅 I was wondering if you could write Hosea/Chubby!F!Reader? SFW or NSFW I don't really mind. I was thinking it could be like Insecure reader goes to Hosea for advice but then BAM feelings~ Thank you for considering this! Love your work!!

Here you go! And Just in time for another Hosea Fucks Friday! 

Chapter 41 of Campfire Stories

In The Cards

After an incident at the Blackwater Saloon, Hosea and Reader have a heart-to-heart.

Below is a quick teaser. Read the full story on ao3

“Alright, Ladies,” Hosea said, “Blackwater’s just up ahead here. Work your magic.” you peered around Karen from where you were, sat on the back of her horse. The town of Blackwater appeared in the distance, glowing yellow in the late afternoon sun. Arthur and Hosea were taking you and some of the other ladies into town for an evening in the saloon, where you would all find leads, play some unsuspecting men, do what you all did best. Tilly rode with Arthur on his horse, and Mary Beth had borrowed one of the other camp horses.

You were relatively new to the gang, having been found by Hosea just outside of Tall Trees a little over a month ago, beaten within an inch of your life for trying to steal pelts from a group of poachers. The gang had nursed you back to health, and given you two options: Arthur could drop you off at the nearest town, and you never speak of the gang again. Or you could stay, run with the gang. You’d chosen the latter, not exactly having anywhere else to go. 

This was your first time out with the other girls. You knew the other girls would be using their charm to distract the patrons while weaseling information or cash from them. You weren’t sure your charms would quite have the right affect. You weren’t very good at flirting, and while you could pick a pocket easily enough, you couldn’t get people to drop their guard very well. But you knew exactly how you were going to earn your keep. 

You were a poker goddess. This week alone you’d won $5 from Lenny, $15 from Strauss, and $25 from Arthur, who was too stubborn to admit defeat. That was playing against people who knew you were good. You couldn’t wait to relieve some unsuspecting saloon patrons of their hard-earned cash. 

There was a hitching post around the back of the Saloon. Arthur and Hosea were already hitching up their horses, with Mary Beth and Karen following right behind. As Karen pulled Old Belle up to the hitching post, Hosea was at your side, holding out his hands to help you down. You smiled and accepted his assistance, his hands resting on your hips as he helped you safely to the ground.

Despite the age gap, you’d found yourself growing sweet on the old gunslinger. He was always so kind, so long as you earned his respect. You’d seen him scream at the Callendar boys more than once, and he even tossed Bill out of camp the other day when he stepped too far out of line. But he’d always been incredibly kind to you, from the moment he found you, discarded on the bank of the Lower Montana River. 

You didn’t remember much of what happened. You’d snuck into a camp of poachers to steal some of their pelts, and had been caught. You’d fought against your captors, fought so hard that your clothes tore where the men held onto you. But you were outnumbered 10 to 1, and with one hard blow to the head, you lost consciousness. 

The next thing you’d known, you woke up on the bank of the river in little more than your undergarments, clothes torn to rags. A kindly looking man stared down at you, gently tapping your cheek to try to bring you around. 

“That’s it, dear girl. You’re still with us.” He’d said pleasantly. “Can you move?” You’d carefully wiggled your fingers, wiggled your toes. You were bruised to hell, and everything hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken. “Come on.” He said, carefully scooping you up, surprisingly strong for a man his age. “I’ve got a camp near here. You can recoup there until you’re strong enough to go home.” you’d blacked out again before he even had you settled on his horse. 

“You ready?” Karen asked, drawing you out of your reminiscing. You grinned and nodded. 

“Of course. A night in the big city. Drinking, gambling, what more could a girl want?” You grinned. She laughed, and your little group began walking around the corner to the saloon entrance. 

“Now don’t you girls get into any trouble now,” Hosea said. “We’re here for a respectable evening.” He was being vague in his warning. Don’t take any risks that could get you hurt, or cause trouble for the gang. 

“Of course not, uncle,” Mary Beth said cheerfully, calling him Uncle as part of your cover. 

“What trouble could us sweet ladies get into?” Tilly joked, her face the picture of innocence. 

“Yeah, what indeed?” Arthur scoffed. Karen flashed him a grin as Arthur opened the door, holding it for the rest of you to pile in. The place was lively, the crowd having just gathered for a drink after work. It’s not so full that it’s uncomfortable, but busy enough that you and your friends won't stand out. Arthur and Hosea wandered up to the bar while the girls dispersed. They wouldn’t need to buy their own drinks; those would be bought for them. 

You followed Hosea and Arthur to the bar and ordered a beer, sliding the bartender a handful of coins. He passed you a beer, then turned down the bar to serve the other patrons. You looked over at the poker table. It was full, a game already in session. 

“How do you plan to spend your evening?” Hosea asked, giving you a smile. 

“I’m going to try my hand at a game of poker.” You said, nodding toward the table. Arthur scoffed. 

“Won’t know what hit ‘em,” He chuckled bitterly. 

“Oh don’t be such a sore loser, Mr. Morgan,” You teased. Arthur shook his head, unable to hide his amused smile. 

“You aren’t going to flirt your way into men’s pockets?’ Hosea asked, sounding surprised. You looked down at the bottle between your hands. 

“That ain’t really my area of expertise,” you said vaguely. Truth was, you’d never tried to charm anything off of a man. You didn’t think it would work. The other girls were so skinny, and pretty. Even Karen, who was bigger than the others, was still thinner than you were. You were certain no one would be tempted by you like they were the others. It was a bit of a sore spot for you.

You’d always been built bigger than others. No matter how tight your mother laced your corsets, how little you’d eaten, every miracle tonic that would magically bring your weight down, you never fit into what was considered pretty. Your mother and the other ladies of high society made sure you knew it too. Made sure you knew no man would ever want you with your body so round. You shook yourself from your self-deprecating thoughts. 

“I wouldn’t know where to start, doing what Karen and the others are doing.” you laughed. “The poker table is where I shine. Just gotta wait for a seat to open up.” you said, glancing over at the poker table once more. It looked like the current hand was just about to finish up. The players began setting down their hands, some looking frustrated, some looking pleased.

[yeetmetotahiti]

Masterlist

Fandom List:

The fandoms I will write for(this is going to be constantly being changed and updated)

Requests:

Caring for Arthur while injured

Sleeping(cuddling) with Arthur

Teen reader in the gang

Fishing and hunting with Javier

Robbing with Charles, Javier, and John

Mtl give a knife to a crab

Which gang members are ticklish

Javier pining for a new gang member

Sean, Kieran, Dutch, and Javier’s s/o being Australian

Which gang members radiate big or small dick energy

How each gang member plays with Jack

Javier and John with a southern s/o

Sean pining over a new gang member

New gang member snorting when laughing

Arthur helping reader date Sean

Javier with a half Mexican s/o

Javier and Charles with a Scottish s/o

Kieran and Javier fighting over reader

Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, Javier, and Charles seeing new gang member all dressed up

Gang members receiving a lap dance

Sean smut

Javier with an emotionally distressed s/o

Cooking with Javier

Javier and reader cuddling for warmth

Javier and Charles dating someone outside the gang

Medic who speaks Spanish when Javier first joins the gang

Arthur, Dutch, Javier, and Charles with a taller s/o

Arthur taking s/o’s virginity

Hosea and s/o with big age gap

Sean, Javier, and Arthur comfort an s/o with depression

The gang reuiniting after death

Some Javier headcanons

What the gang thinks of modern music

Romantic Eagle Flies headcanons

Reader with depression

Javier with his baby

Reader getting called short by Micah and not having it

A 15 year old joins the gang

Arthur, Charles, and Sean with a very insecure s/o

Dutch, Arthur, and Javier react to reader getting dying in bank heist

15 y/o member of the gang getting a score on their own

Javier and virgin reader

Arthur visiting Sean’s grave

Arthur taking care of injured female reader

Javier and reader share a bath in town

Headcanons for a girl dating Karen

Arthur and Abigail comfort reader with anxiety

Arthur and Dutch’s s/o has a voice kink

Javier’s s/o has low self-esteem 

Charles bringing reader out of their shell

Dutch fingering s/o under the table

Dutch with a virgin s/o

What type of s/o the entire van der linde gang would want

Low honor Arthur and male s/o having a baby

Arthur getting a new dog

Javier and Sadie meet again in Mexico

Charles falling for a female like Sean

Javier, Arthur, and Charles are dared to tell you about their feelings for you

Arthur with a hot tempered male s/o

John asking male s/o out

Josiah takes you out on a date

Arthur and male s/o with dog

Arthur and male s/o adopting a baby

Charles, Dutch, and Kieran with an s/o who draws them

Charles’ s/o cuddling Taima

Female in a poly relationship with Arthur and John

Arthur, Charles, and Javier’s s/o gets their horse stolen 

Arthur falls in love with a woman he went to collect debt from

Dutch falling for the gender neutral reader but their kid hates him

Cuddling with Charles headcanons

Being best friends with Kieran, Molly, and Swanson headcanons

Dutch with a short s/o headcanons

Javier and Dutch calming down a stressed out s/o headcanons

Charles patching up a young female gang member

Flaco Hernandez sfw and nsfw headcanons

Some more Flaco headcanons

Arthur being self conscious about his weight

Arthur, John, and Lenny catch their friend cheating at poker

Cuddling with Flaco headcanons

John’s s/o having a big dog

Some soft Flaco headcanons

Flaco’s s/o getting hit on

Flaco telling stories to a young outlaw

Arthur finding a lost foal

Bill smut hc’s

Flaco’s s/o hates his spitting

Nsfw and Sfw Flaco with a small s/o headcanons

Arthur and Charles with an s/o who has a condition that can be passed onto their child

Arthur and Copper headcanons

Top huggers

Stargazing with Arthur, Javier, and Charles

Romantic Lenny headcanons

Random headcanons

Random headcanons vol. 2

The gang at Disney World

If the gang made it to Tahiti

Dutch and Hosea’s voices switched

Dutch with an s/o with a big age gap

The gang as gifs part 1

The gang as gifs part 2

The gang as gifs part 3

The gang as gifs part 4

The gang as gifs part 5

If the gang had show horses

Dutch with a 19-20yr old s/o

Charles and Javier with an s/o who hates their face being touched

Dutch and Charles with an s/o who squeaks when they laugh

Eagle Flies with a shy s/o

Lenny having a huge crush on reader

Eagle Flies, Charles, and Lenny first kiss with a shy s/o

Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and John before the gang expanded

Domestic life with Hosea hcs

Charles and Eagle Flies impressing a crush

Arthur with an s/o who found a foal

Arthur, Charles, and Javier with an s/o who sneezes cute

Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea find an abandoned child

Cooking Mexican food for the gang

Good Omens:

Their s/o driving just like Crowley

Finding out their s/o is another magical being

How Zira and Crowley spend a nice day with their s/o

What they do when their s/o is having a bad day

Aziraphale with an s/o who hates their face being touched

Sweet Aziraphale hcs

Aziraphale and Crowley playing Animal Crossing

Game of Thrones:

How they react to their s/o being just as skilled in battle as they are

Sandor being touch starved and letting you touch his face

Convincing Daenarys not to burn King’s Landing

Jon Snow s/o headcanons

Sandor reacting to seeing bruises on your hips after you’ve had sex

Sandor killing his brother then proposing to the reader

Sandor and reader go for a ride where reader gets hurt

Sandor accidentally hurting the reader

Podrick cuddling with s/o headcanons

Petyr in a relationship headcanons

Having sex with Sandor Clegane but he’s afraid to hurt you 

Lupin the Third:

Lupin, Jegin, and Goemon protecting their s/o

Jigen and Goemon with a hacker s/o

Slashers:

Nubbins Sawyer getting pegged

The Sawyers with a vegetarian 

Sawyer family wedding traditions

Kissing Chop Top headcanons

Chop Top with a goth s/o

Chop Top’s morning routine

Chop Top with a chubby s/o

The Sawyers at the lake with their s/o

The Sawyers with an s/o who has ADHD

The Sawyers as dogs

Jason and Chop Top out on a night drive with their s/o

The Sawyers with an s/o who can sing

The Sawyers with a hotheaded s/o

The Sawyers with an s/o who has a stuffed animal collection

The Sawyers with an s/o who doesn’t think she’s attractive

The Sawyers with an s/o who pole dances

The Sawyers as dads

The Sawyers with an s/o with a bad sunburn

The Sawyers with an s/o with depression

The Sawyer brothers proposing 

The Sawyers getting a lap dance from their s/o

Bubba, Chop Top, and Nubbins with a black s/o

The Sawyers with an s/o who defends them from a victim but takes it badly

Chop Top writing letters to his s/o while in Vietnam

The Sawyer twins in a shady motel room with their female s/o

The Sawyers with an s/o who twerks

The Sawyers with a housewife s/o

How the Sawyers celebrate their s/o’s birthday

The Sawyers going on a first date

The Sawyers reaction to their s/o saying “I love you”

The Sawyers with a jealous s/o

What pet names the Sawyers would give their s/o’s

The Sawyers scared after watching a scary movie

The Sawyers with an s/o with bad period cramps

The Sawyer brothers with an s/o who dies in front of them

Jason with a like-minded s/o

How the Sawyers relax with their s/o

My OCs:

Thomas Reed

Thomas’ face claim

Mood board made for my oc!

Thomas’ backstory

Info on Thomas

He gots a fish

New horse who dis?

Moar

Gang preferences

More pictures

Just some landscape pictures

Thomas the train

Rio Bravo

Ikaros

How he joined the gang

Just some more pics

ALL 50 questions about my oc because I’m stubborn and very tired now

Me and vannderlinde’s adventures

On who can call Thomas “Tom”

I got him a new Ardennes horse!

He got new clothes! Pt. 1 Pt. 2

My Yakuza oc

My Texas Chainsaw Massacre oc, Olivia

[missblissy]

Low Honor!Arthur Morgan X Reader Part 2

((Many people asked for this and I wanted to write a part two to this because it was such a good prompt. Thank you again to the anon who sent it in!! You can read Part One Here!!))

A warm and gentle breeze greeted his skin. He cleared his throat a few times, hating the constant onslaught of phlegm he had to fight just to breath. Arthur was eternally grateful for the warm mountain air that tempted him. It was easy to breathe, and he felt light, almost like he was floating on the wind the guided him through the tall mountain passes. 

The mighty stallion he road might have disagreed, but Arthur much enjoyed this long and quiet journey. It had given him time to think, reflect, and judge himself. There was a lot to think about, between now and then. He had spent the vast majority of his ride already trying to talk himself out of doing it. This was a stupid idea, he would tell himself. But then the next second he’d say, If I don’t do this, I will regret it.

Arthur’s eyes perked up when he noticed the trail began to descend, “We must be getting close, almost there, boyah,” The horse didn’t reply, but still, Arthur leaned down to give the beast a gentle pat.

He thought back on how nearly a week ago he had fainted in the streets of Saint-Denis. How the Pinkertons raided a camp in the swamps. How Dutch was abusing his power over the local Native Americans. He thought a lot about his talks with Rains Fall. He thought most about what Dutch told him in Gurama. He could still hear those words ring in his ears like a screaming bell that wouldn’t stop chiming.

“She was pregnant, Arthur! She would be useless to us anyway! It’s better she’s gone, we have fewer people to worry about!”

How? He knew, but he didn’t. Months had passed since then. Enough months that maybe, just maybe, that baby had been born. Arthur thought of a million reasons why you left. He narrowed them down but never would have guessed which one. Yet again, much to his surprise -but not really- he had fathered another child. 

Finding you was the hardest part. When Arthur learned he was dying, he wanted to try and become a better man. He started helping more, robbing less, and doing what he thought was right. Which including going behind Dutch’s back. Again. And Again, and again. Even now he was. Dutch forbid Arthur to go searching for you, and for whatever reason, Dutch didn’t give a reason why. Arthur, being Arthur, did what he so damn wanted, especially if with the fact that he had fewer and fewer days to spare. This was one of the last things he wanted to do. After this... He needed to do everything he could for John.

Arthur spent the first three days looking for you by bribing post office men, and mailmen of the sorts by looking for a Miss (Y/N) (L/N). On his last day, he finally found someone that knew your name. The mailman said the last he heard, she was sending letters from Lake Alma, a large logging town in a deep valley far beyond the Grizzles, north of Ambarino. Very north of Ambarino. It was about a four-day ride north. 

He could see further down the mountain trail, as he ventured further into the valley, a welcome sign that said We Welcome you to Lake Alma!

Arthur felt very nervous, he had an address, and he hoped it was right. He wasn’t sure if you lived in town, or outside of town. Awful thoughts ping-ponged around in his head. He started getting confused and flustered about what to say to you. Arthur’s stomach twisted in knots and his breath grew thicker and heavier as he started to wheeze. He took a scrap of paper out and looked at it again, reading the street and address number. 

This couldn’t be right... No. Arthur found himself staring at a very large house. He’d go as far to say a mansion. Arthur was very confused, but this was the only lead he had. Perhaps you stayed here at one point? There was no way on earth you could afford to live in a place like this. Maybe you worked here? 

He got off his horse, slow and steady, and took his time walking up to the front porch of this big white house in the middle town. The neighbors had homes just as big and pretty and white. God, this was uncomfortable. Arthur found himself at the front door faster than he expects. He took a breath, shaky and weak, then knocked on the door three times. 

A second passed, then another, a few more then suddenly the large glass door was opened. A man stood there, tall stern. He wasn’t much taller than Arthur, but he had dark black hair that matched a small fuzzy beard. He peered over his half-moon glasses with old tired eyes. Arthur noticed he wore the kind of clothes you’d see a doctor in, “Can I help you?”

Startled and stunned, Arthur froze before clearing his throat, “Uh-”

The man cut him off, “I only see patients at my office,” He studied Arthur’s poor health, “Which is closed today.”

“N-no... Sorry, Mister,” Arthur tipped his head, trying to hide his face under his hat, “I was looking for a Miss (Y/N) (L/N)... Um.. she was a friend of mine-”

This bastard sure was rude. He cut Arthur off again while raising he brow and asked, “You’re... Arthur... Aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” How did this man know his name? Who was he? Did he know you?

“Just a second,” The strange man closed the door quickly and Arthur could see past the distorted glass as he went deep inside the house. Moments passed and Arthur felt a flashback to when he visited Mary. His heart picked up, he felt nervous and self-conscious. 

Suddenly there was movement behind the door and the nob clicked open. 

“Arthur?” There you were. He couldn’t believe his eyes. You... You looked like a princess, dressed in an all-white dress, with your hair done up pretty, with earing and jewels. Like... God, he thought you were so much different than the cowgirl he knew. Always covered in mud, grime and dried blood. Wearing pants and hats with guns to the teeth.

“(Y-Y/N)... I...” He noticed how thin you were, “You look different,” Was all he could get out of his mouth.

You opened the door a little more, step out and onto the porch, “So do you,” You said grimly. It had almost been a year since you last saw him. Almost. Maybe a month or two shy. He looked... he looked downright awful, “What happened to you?” Funny, that was the only thing you could also say. How did he find you? What... What did he want?

Arthur gave you a small smile while reaching in his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He let out a low hum while lighting it, “Lots of things,” He clicked his tongue, “But mostly... mostly just here and there.” You could see how hard it was for him to smoke that thing. He coughed a few times, bad, and he fought to catch his breath.

You’ve seen this all before, and you were damn familiar with it, “Arthur... you’re sick aren't you?”

He chuckled to your surprise, “You guessed it,” He sounded so bitter, angry even, “I’m dying, (Y/N).” He sounded like he was done talking, but he took a deep breath and brought his gaze to meet yours. You forgot just how blue and sad his eyes were, “I know about the baby, (Y/N). Dutch told me,”

You blinked several times, your mouth hung open slightly. You took in a sharp breath and shook your head slightly, “I-...Wh-what? Is that why you came here?”

Arthur was about to speak again but the stranger showed up again. He was really getting on Arthur’s nerves. Instead, Arthur got angry and little snotty, “Who is this guy?” He asked you as you waved a hand at the stranger.

The man didn’t seem fazed, he didn’t even react to Arthur’s immature tone. In fact, he just looked down at you, giving you the chance to explain. Arthur stared at you, waiting for an answer while you knitted your brows and frowned slightly, “My husband,” you said, “Arthur, this is Nick,”

“Nicolas Garcon, Dr. Nicolas Garcon,” The man’s voice was suddenly thick with a heavy French accent. Arthur very much suddenly hated this Nicolas.

You turned to your husband, a smile on your face, “It’s fine dear, go collect the rest of those books for me, please? Leave them in my gazebo and I’ll meet you there later?”

Nicolas didn’t say anything. He apparently wasn’t much of a man for words. He simply went on his way, back into the house and thankfully away from Arthur. On the other hand, Arthur was very... surprised. You married this guy? Of all the people? You either really loved him, or something he had, and Arthur wasn’t sure which.

After a few seconds, you looked back to Arthur, “Would you like to come in?”

His face was still hanging in disbelief, “Sure,” He didn’t sound too sure. Arthur followed you inside. The house was very nice. Smaller and cuter than Angelo Bronte’s house, but just as white and gold and glistening as Henri Lemieux’s large home. Regardless, he couldn’t deny it was beautiful. He had been in many mansion this past year, but yours was by far his favorite. He could tell you made this place your home.

There were books everywhere, you were an avid reader and enjoyed learning. He could see the painting you must have to choose, they were all of flowers or landscapes. Arthur faintly remembered a time when you were younger, bugging him to draw you pictures to hang in your tent. He even saw photographs hanging on the wall.

“That’s me-” Arthur caught you by surprise, you stopped and looked back at him. He was staring at a photo of himself, Dutch, Hosea, and you, “That’s... us. You kept this thing?”

You had nearly forgotten that picture you put up. It was one of the only things you had left to remind you of your old life. You missed it every now and then, “Yeah,” It hurt a little, “You guys are the only family I know,” Arthur kept looking at it, you could see him processing forbidden emotions. 

A woman unknown to Arthur came rushing down the large staircase you were already making your way towards, “Madam!” She called lightly, “Madam, the little one had woken up,” She was a short chubby woman, who looked twice as old as Arthur.

Both you and Arthur perked at her announcement, “Thank you, Laura,” You smiled at her, thankful she was around and here to help, “Can you hold on a moment, I’ve got a guest. We’ll be up shortly,” The maid nodded her head, give Arthur a smile as well before heading back upstairs.

Arthur looked back at you. You were a faint hollow shadow of your formal self, the real you. This? This... rich man’s wife? This wasn’t you, it couldn’t be, “How?” He simply asked, “How... Did you-”

You knew what he was asking, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Luck I guess. After I left the camp,” You paused, remembering things you didn’t want to remember, “I... I fled into the mountains. I knew I had to get out of the area, go somewhere I knew Dutch wouldn’t want to go. I made it here after two weeks of getting lost in the snow.”

“Then you met him?” He gestured to what Arthur assumed was your wedding photo, “And married him?”

Your laugh startled him and made his heartache. You giggled behind your hand, “Oh no- Nick and I only just got married, about a week ago.”

Something about that made Arthur irrational angry. His dumb man brain told him he had a chance to come up here earlier and he should have come up earlier. He cursed himself for prolonging this for so long.

“But- yes, Nick was the first person I met when I got here. I was already two months pregnant, starving and nearly frozen to death. He found me and took me into his home. This home. He’s been nothing more than helpful, and we are very similar people,” 

Arthur found that extremely hard to believe, you could tell by the way his face twisted up. He gave you that look often when you were younger. It made a small part of your heart flicker awake, that you thought was long since dead. It just didn’t make sense, so he asked it, “Why did you marry him?”

“He asked... And,” Your voice went a little soft, “This.. this was the best option for my daughter.”

A daughter? He had a daughter? Arthur’s face lit up, then went pale as a sheet. In his weak and sick state, he didn’t try to hide his emotions anymore. He was like reading an open book. You couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. And he was feeling a lot.

Arthur lowered his head eventually, he took on a grim tone, “I’m sorry,” He said slowly, “This- I... I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, the last time we spoke. You were right, (Y/N). About everything. You opened my eyes up to that, and so did the threat of death that constantly hangs over my head.”

You forgave Arthur a long time ago. You thought you would never see him again, or anyone for that matter. To his surprise, and your own a little bit, you had turned into someone completely different from your formal self. You became a wife and a mother, something Arthur never saw in you. You became domesticated, in a way.

A somber look grew on both your faces. You swore that you’d keep your daughter miles and miles away from your former life. You devoted every second of your time to her, which was a surprise to you. It was a lot easier than you first thought, maybe that’s why you helplessly fell in love with Nicolas. For the first time in what felt like years, you found someone who wanted nothing more than to help you and make a better person out of you. He showered you in the attention you so craved from Arthur, or from any on-again-off-again lover. 

The fact that Arthur came all this way to find you, to find your daughter and confront you about it. It made you confused and honestly sad. If it was not for the fact that Arthur was quite literally dying, you’d probably turn him away.

“Do you want to see her?” You finally asked the question that Arthur couldn’t quite ask himself.

He stood there, silent, still and sad. His hat covered the vast majority of his face. Though it was barely noticeable, you saw the quick little nod and heard the tiny little, “Yes.” 

You went upstairs, Arthur following close behind. The tink tink tink of his spurs along the hardwood floors reminded you of the days long in the past. Seeing Arthur here? It hurt you honestly. It opened up wounds you thought healed, but really you only covered them up. You stopped at a white door that had a little pink sign on it that said, Meadow. 

Arthur could put two and two together, “How old is she?” He asked before you could open the door. He was so nervous. It was just a baby, it wasn’t like she’d know who he was. It’s not like you’d let her know who he was either. She’d grow with Nicolas as a father, not Arthur, and that's all she needed.

“Only a month,” You turned the door nob, “She was born a few weeks premature, so she’s small,” The crisp white room nearly blinded Arthur when he looked inside.

The nursery was cute, small and neat. He eyes immediately locked on a small crib where the maid Laura was standing. She smiled at them then excused herself. You walked over to your daughter without hesitation, unlike Arthur was seemed physically scared of a baby, “Come on,” You quipped, “She only bite a little.”

Arthur slowly tip-toed his way closer and closer to the crib. There inside he found possibly the smallest most helpless baby he’s ever seen. LIttle baby Meadow had large blue eyes that stared up at the world, and thin curly blonde hair growing in every direction. Arthur’s brows knitted together as he gazed down at this little girl. His face hardened, and you could see how much this hurt him.

“She looks like you,” You said quietly. She really did, she looked nothing like you in your opinion. She had Arthur’s eyes and his light hair. Her face was soft and round with little defining features yet.

“I’m...I...” He was at a loss for words, “Meadow,” He said the name, tasting it on his tongue. It was a fitting name, he thought, she was as beautiful as a wild meadow filled with flowers swaying with the waves of wind that passed over it, “Hello, Meadow.” Arthur bit at his upper lip, he was fighting emotions he thought he’d never feel again. But this time it was far more worse, and these emotions were very unwanted, “I’m sorry I can’t be your daddy, little girl, sometimes I wish I could,” He reached down slowly into the crib, holding a finger out for her. She grabbed it fast and held on tight, “You got a really smart, brave, and pretty mama. You got a rich daddy, a big house, and a life I could never give you,” He smiled when Meadow looked up at him and giggled, smiling her own toothless cheeky baby smile.

Hearing Arthur say those things touched your heart and soul. You could feel his pain, fear, and regret waving off him like a violent storm. For some reason, you had regret too. What if you stayed there, in camp? Would Arthur have changed? Would you have had a chance with him? But then you remember the newspaper article your husband gave you just a few days ago, about how awful and terrible the Dutch Van der Linde gang was, and all the gang members that have been killed, and all the people the gang killed. You knew in your mind that you made the right choice, but your heart was screaming for a different one.

Arthur kept looking down at his daughter, loving her for the few seconds he’d allow himself too. Eventually, he pulled his hand away and she began to cry. She let out small whimpers like she was begging for him to come back. It was hard, but he did his best to back away from the crib. When you looked away from Meadow, and back to Arthur, you caught a glimpsof him rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. He shed little tears, but he still shed them.

“You made the right choice,” Arthur said after a few moments, “I’m glad you left, there wouldn’t be much of a life for her if you stayed. I wish it was different, I wish I was different,” Arthur paused, and you felt no need to cut into his words. He sounded like he was just rambling off his thoughts, not really thinking about what he said, but more so feeling what he needed to feel, “I’m glad I got to meet her though,” He ne he’d regret if he didn’t, and even though it killed him, he was still glad he did this before his time finally ran out, “I should get going, I don’t want to over stay my welcom-”

“Are you sure, Arthur?” You couldn’t stop the words from blurting out. You became nervous and quickly added, “It’s such along ride back. At-.. At least stay a little longer. Let Nick give you some medicine. He specializes in... in your area of illness. He runs a hospital ward just outside town.”

The offer was tempting, but he really shouldn’t. Yet despite this thought, he found himself say, “Alright.” 

You called for Laura, asking her to watch Meadow for a few moments while you walked Arthur down stairs once more and towards the back of the house. You called out for your husband and asked him to do a simple task, then left Arthur alone with the man he just really didn’t like.

“She says you’re sick,” Nicolas waved a hand for Arthur to step inside what looked like to be a science lab. He was a doctor after all. There was a chair for him to sit in so Arthur made his way towards it.

“Sure, something like that,” He really didn’t want to talk much, though he did look around a lot. He was impressed, “Are you some kind of scientist?”

“Something like that,” If that was his attempted at a joke, it was very unfunny. What did you see in this guy? Clearly something Arthur didn’t see, “I spend a lot of time studying medicine and diseases. I do a little embalming work as well.” Nicolas walked over to a cabnit and pulled out two little bottle, then a syringe. He filled it half way with both then returned to Arthur, “This will hurt.” he said in a monotone voice.

Arthur winced as the needle dug into his skin, and he let out a quick breath when he felt the liquid force it’s way into his blood stream. It burned and felt like he was dying there for a second. Thank god it was over as quickly as it started. 

He was about to thank him, but Noclas started speaking much to his surprise, “She cares about you, I hope you know that,” He was talking about you, “She talks about you often, as much as she’d never admit that. My opinon of you is very small, probably as small as your opinon of me, but I’d do anything to make her happy, also just like you,” What was he trying to get at? Arthur wasn’t sure but he kept listening, “When (Y/N) first came her, all she did was cry about you, how she missed you and how much it hurt to leave on such a bad note. I couldn’t believe such a man existed to be so... selfish,” Rude, huh? Arthur rolled his eyes, but he knew Nicolas was right, “I did everything in my power to try and make her happy, to make her smile. I bought her books, I drew her pictures, I filled this house with paintings and flowers, and anything she liked. When she gave birth to Meadow, she wished you were there. She doesn’t really love me, Mr. Morgan. Maybe she says she does, but you are the one, and have been the only one on her mind for so long,”

It felt odd, yet there was now sense of similartiy between himself and this stoic doctor. Perhaps they were two side of the same coin. Arthur could remember how mard and how important it use to be to him to make you happy and see you smile. Just somewhere along the line he lost his honor, his way of thinking, and morals. It took the threat of death to bring him back up.

Arthur nodded his head slowly, “You’re better for her, better than me at least. For the both of them,”

“I know,” Nicolas deadpanned, “And I love them, even Meadow. I love her as if she was my own.”

At least he was honest. Arthur could respect that. He sat up, getting out of the chiar, “Thank you,” he said, “For this-” He raised his shoulder were he got the shot, “And... And for doing something I couldn’t. And can’t.” Both of them shared a silent look, then a nod. Nicolas lead Arthur out of his little lab and back into the center of the house. You were waiting by the door with a small bag in your hands.

When Arthur approched, you held out the bag for him, “Please, there’s some medicine in here, and some food for the trip back. I can’t imagine Dutch being keen on you being gone for so long,” You tried to smile but it didn’t meet your eyes.

“No, you’re right on that,” There was a poor attempt of a smile on his face, “Thank you. Both of you,” Arthur looked at you and your husband then gave a nod of his head, “Take care of her for me,” He was looking at you now, “I don’t know if we’ll ever cross paths again, (Y/N), but... thank you, and... Be well. I hope only good things happen to you.”

He gave a little tip of his hat, kept his eyes looking at the ground and excused himself out your front door. When the heavy glass door clicked shut, you let out a breath, a heavy and sad one. How terribly tragic this was. You wished, just for a second, maybe a second more, that your life could have been a little different, and have a little more of Arthur in it for just a little longer.

[slave2reddead]

More things I'd like to see in the RDR2 fanbase

● More Arthur Morgan x Sadie Adler smut

● Arthur Morgan x chubby!reader smut

● Charles x Arthur friendship fanfiction ● Hosea being the sweet loving father he is to Arthur

● Arthur Morgan x Tilly smut

● John Marston x reader smut

● More people hating Micah

● Arthur Morgan being Thiccc x reader

● More Dutch memes

● Arthur beating the everliving shit out of Micah

● Micah dying instead of Arthur

● Arthur being dominant af

● Also micah dying