#arthur morgan is sexy

[ghostheartfelt]

*:･｡☆ tags: damsel in distress!reader, reader will have a father daughter relationship with dutch, slowburn romance, no use of y/n, reader is nicknamed "Miracle" once she settles in with the gang. THIS IS SET BEFORE THE FLEE OF BLACKWATER.

*:･｡☆ warnings: mentions of kidnapping/attempts of kidnapping, blood and gore (mostly js people gettin shot n shit 🙏🏼 it's rdr afterall.) period typical undertones of sexism. canon typical violence. mentions of animal abuse/neglect

〔☆〕 desc: during a little break at the saloon, you're interrupted by an O'Driscoll who presses a gun to your back and forces you out of the saloon for a kidnapping. the Van Der Linde group comes to your rescue.

.. ☆ next part | masterlist (tbe)

—✩ A WOLF’S BANE P. ⅰ ✩—

word count — 2.3k

a/n: hey! this is part one of my arthur morgan x fem!reader slowburn series. i know it starts off a little funky, but i promise you’re in for a treat!! feedback/ideas are greatly appreciated! 🤭🪭 this part is mostly focused on the reader developing relationships with the other members of the gang. (p.s i promise reader isn’t a mary sue 😭 this is just for build up!)

Your hands stay busy loading and spinning the barrel of your duel Widowmakers. They were beautifully customized, and you just purchased a brand new cylinder from the gunsmith. There were elk carvings on the wood handle—your holsters having the same stitching as they rest on your waist under your coat—and freshly polished metals.

You were quietly listening in on the discussions that swarmed at every angle in the Saloon. You’d traveled from Strawberry to Valentine to receive your prescription from Doctor Calloway.

Smithfield has tried a fair amount to ask you out for a dinner, or a horseback ride to Saint Denis, and as much as you loved horseback riding, you declined kindly.

He mailed you a letter asking that you come to his office to obtain it. You caught a stagecoach and paid five dollars for the ride, then took yourself to the saloon first for a quick lamb heart stew, which was something you always made sure to grab upon visiting Valentine, making you a familiar customer with the owner, Mr. Smithfield.

As you stood and adjusted your skirt while stuffing your revolver into its holster that stayed hidden under your coat, a barrel of a gun pressed against your back. Your eyes shot open and you refused to turn your head to see who your threat was.

The man stunk of alcohol, cigarettes, and pure grime, and the scent only grew stronger as you felt his face press against your hair to whisper in your ear.

“Act natural, pretty thing.”

His body closed in against your back with his hip bones digging into your waist. He wasn’t very tall, nor muscular, perhaps about five foot six.

“Do you always greet a pretty woman like this?” You hiss quietly as he twists the gun into your back, guiding you out. He makes sure to snatche your purse from off the table you were seated at—which you didn’t mind too much since you were struggling financially with only about thirty dollars to your name—you didn’t even get to pay your tab off. You hoped Smithfield would understand.

“Shut up and move, girl.” He rejoined.

Undoubtedly, your heart raced in your chest as you both stepped out of the Saloon. There’s another stagecoach with a few other men seated, causing your eyes to widen. This is a kidnapping, not a robbery, you thought, and that was when sweat began to head down from your scalp.

“She’s a good one, Welts!” one snorted. He had crooked and several missing teeth, a lazy eye, and his brown hair was greasy, and he just looked downright disgusting.

“O’Driscoll will be real happy!”

That was when you froze in your place as you were turned around and patted down for any extra goods; the male in front of you had managed to find a pearl necklace from the depths of your dress pocket, and you scrambled to try and grab it from him.

“Please, don’t take that, take anything else.” You were surprised to find yourself pleading to this man. To an O’Driscoll.

Welt’s head tilted and he let out a loud laugh before he took his revolver, slamming the barrel and cylinder rough against your cheekbone, immediate pain and heat surged as it quickly began to swell, and your body twists, landing on the ground with your palms flat in the dirt below you.

You reach one of your hands—that had grains of tiny rocks stuck in your bleeding skin—up to touch your cheek, a quick feeling of regret causing you to yank your head away from the pain.

“You’re a scum!” you try to turn your head, yet he grabs a full fist of your hair and unsheathes his knife, cutting off a thick chunk of your locks. You gasped weakly.

The men above you bursted into laughter while instead tears stung your eyes. “Speak when spoken to, woman,” he grimaced. You feel for the hair he sliced, and your lip quivers. These were definitely Colm O’Driscoll’s men.

Welts gripped your upper arm, and pulled you onto your feet. Accidentally, you rip your dress from your feet getting caught in the fabric as you struggle to stand with the man swinging you around like a lasso.

You feel his revolver get pinned into your back once again as he taps the barrel against you, gesturing you to walk towards the coach. You hesitated, which he didn’t take kindly. You heard the hammer click, and that’s when you caught yourself walking.

“Hello, gentlemen!” an exuberant voice joins in, and you turn your head to look at the man. He was neatly shaven, besides just a bit of clean stubble along his chin. His hair seemed slicked back at the top, even with a black hat, and he was in a long-sleeved white and blue striped shirt, a black vest, and black slacks.

His boots were black with brown spurs. He had his hand on his belt, though not over his holsters that you think were home to dual revolvers. You were just about tired of seeing men with guns.

Guns. You thought. I’m as dumb as a rat—you shimmy your arm down to press against your waist, feeling for your Widowmakers. You felt the hardness with your wrist, playing it calm, and cool. Welts was just as dumb, if not more—he hasn’t even realized you were armed, not that you knew how to use them, anyway. Your hand drags away. Most likely, you wouldn’t be able to beat the man in a sharpshoot.

“Now, a little birdy told me you were being not so nice to this innocent woman, is that true?” The black-haired male, being passive aggressive, sends you kind eyes that leave you feeling skeptical.

You notice his friends.

One was in a low ponytail, and had a sombrero on his head, and the other had olive skin and a hat with a small feather in it’s band.

“She’s my wife, she’s drunk, and these men have offered to take us home. Go along with your business.” Welts snarled as he pushed your shins into the step of the stagecoach. Never in a million years would you even think to date or marry an O’Driscoll—especially not him.

His hair was greasy, and there was collected dirt behind his ears. With his gapped teeth, and his uncared for eyebrows. You wanted to murder the ratbag for laying his dirty fingers on you.

“You tellin’ me the little birdy is a liar?” the man asks, his tone lowering.

“Hell is your problem?” Welts’ eyebrows furrowed.

His gun against your back was starting to feel like it was forming a circular mark on your back from the muzzle.

“I surely don’t remember a time where I saw a loyal man pinning a gun to his wife’s back,” another one of the man’s friends appeared. He had darker skin, Native American features, and a braid running down his own back.

His arms were folded against his chest that was covered in a brown long-sleeved tunic.

“Do you know this man, miss?” His eyes drag to yours with a softer expression creasing his features.

Once you open your mouth to speak, you’re silenced with a quick shoulder shove forcing you into the coach.

“She does, now leave us be.” He sat himself down next to you. Your head turns to look at them as your face twists into fear.

There were five men; the black-haired one, the one with the braid, the male with the ponytail, the scarred Scottish man, and another male who was a bit taller and quieter. His hair was more brown, his face was scruffy, and he wore a black gamblers hat.

“Come on now, hold your horses, compadre!” The one with the ponytail waved his hand in the air, though the man standing in the front seat of the stagecoach flicked the reins against the hinds of both of the gray and black horses, causing them to squeal and chase out of Valentine.

Panic surged through you, raising your adrenaline. When you try to crane your head to see if the men decided to leave, your chest is pushed back against the seat by one of Welts’ companions. Suddenly, the one who’d exchanged you the soft look—which you now have come to believe was the leader—yelled out, and all the men followed his command. “Saddle up, boys, we got ourselves a couple’a maggots!”

You heard two, or three, or four, of them whistle a call to their horses and moments later, they were chasing down the stagecoach. You felt a tinge of hope, and trusted that these men would save you.

“Can these sons’a bitches go any faster?!” Welts hands gripped the seat the driver sat on with his head turned over his shoulder.

When the shooting began, you quickly ducked and let out a distressed noise. Bullets flew all around you, and you covered your ears. You looked up, and immediately the driver had a bullet pierce his skull. You screamed, some of the red paste splattering onto your face. The driver fell off the front of the coach, and you gasped as the wheels ran over the body, the lump making you wobble. You lift yourself up, and take a hold of the seats to stabilize yourself.

The horses stressed, unsure what to do, and you looked around frantically. Another one of the men attempted to cross over and take hold of the reins, but he received the same fate, instead his body leaned over yours, and you pushed it off the edge before it toppled on you.

“Girl!” One of the men yelled, catching your attention. “Do ya know how to drive that thing?!” His accent was thick, and his voice was deep with a slight rasp. You’d gotten a more clear look at his face now that it wasn’t half-covered with his hat. “I said, do ya know how to drive it?!” His horse sped up along the side of the coach, and you frantically nodded your head. You used to be a Stagecoach Taxi at fourteen. You just hoped you still had it in you.

You tore the fabric of the hem of your dress some more until the fabric stopped just above your knees, then hopped over before you’re pulled back by the neck; a man’s arm choking you and smashing both sides of your head as he squeezed his arm making you fall back onto the floor. “Stupid bitch,” the man huffed and grunted, shooting off a few rounds.

“Arthur, Arthur, no!” the leader yelled from behind. “You’ll risk shootin’ her! Put that gun down!”

He was right; the coach was teetering from side to side, and would be sure to tumble off the edge of a cliff if it were to get close enough.

They’d be sure to go off-road with the horses only knowing to go in one direction at the speed they were currently.

These horses were abused, whip welts covering both their hinds and backs, it was disgusting.

You sputtered out a few coughs as the man cut off your entire circulation, your fingers to pry at his arms and your nails scratch at his skin.

He drops you and you slump onto the floor. You hit your head on some metal, yet quickly recover. While the man is distracted, you throw your head at his pants and bite on his groin through the slacks, immediately, he lets out a yowl and accidentally pulls the trigger of his Litchfield Rifle as he falls off the carriage, which ricochets off a steel base, and strikes your shoulder.

A cry leaves your throat and you slap your hand over the wound. Blood seeps through the cloth of your ruffled top, but you swing yourself back over and take hold of the reins.

You feel your head pounding, but you pull back the reins and attempt to slow the horses down, though they don’t abide. The horses are panicked, unsure how to react.

“Don’t stop the coach!” the man with the feather in his hat, shooting over his shoulder.

”Well, what the hell do I do then?!” Your eyebrows furrow. “There’s more! They just keep comin’!” you turn your head at his words, and your eyes widen to see more O’Driscoll men trailing behind on coaches and horses.

“Jump on my horse!” The man with the striped shirt yells in your direction, and you look at him as if he’s crazy. “I’ll grab you, don’t worry about falling, but hurry it up!” His voice booms, going rasp.

“Now! Now!” He pulls back the reins of his horse, causing it to halt, and with a running start, you jump off the coach and onto his horse, his arm pulling you up as you almost fall off the horse’s hind to sit upright.

The horses to the coach attempt to stop at the edge of the cliff they ran too, though the coach pushes them over. You gasp, and turn your head as your hands grip the man’s jacket that was in front of you.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, sweetheart,” he clears his throat, and turns his horse around. His friends caught up, and their horses skidded to a stop.

“Dutch! What the hell was that for?” The male, who had directed you to not stop the stagecoach, his face was twisted with fury.

“Do you trust me, or not, son?” The man, who now is identified as Dutch, questions him, then elbows you lightly. “John Marston, he’s the hothead if you couldn’t tell, ain’t that right, boys?” He let out a humorous laugh. “Damn straight.” The one with the sombrero howls.

You had to keep yourself from passing out, which failed miserably. “You alright back there, miss?” He nudged your body again. Your eyes began to shut on you, and you slumped against the man’s back, then began to slide off the horse and onto the ground.

“Shit, shit!” Dutch took quick notice of your wounds. “Ain’t any of you tell me she was shot!” He wheezed, rushing off his horse. Everything faded to black.

[ovaryacted]

It’s really just something about Joel Miller and Arthur Morgan that makes me look at them and go “yeah…I wanna drain their balls so bad.”

Time to domesticate and sexualize that old man fr.

[evgar]

save me hot butches

[wolfiery]

MERLIN | 5x02 “Arthur's Bane: Part Two"

[creamqueen]

I find it hard to believe when ppl write Arthur Morgan as incredibly flirty or romantic...cause no way this man wouldn't be scared of intimacy considering what happened with Eliza and Isaac.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

When Price’s eyes are hidden underneath his hat I go just a little feral

[apricotmiette]

currently working on a small town sheriff arthur (maybe-set-in-the-80’s???) x f!reader/au. my first work since YEARS and IT’S COMING OUT SPLEEEENDID.

IT MAYBE TAKE SOME TIME BUT AW I’M HELLA EXCITED PLEASE STAY TUNED :-))))))

[clairepngart]

[arthurlovesarthurmorgan]

[ghostheartfelt]

〔☆〕 desc: you’re finally introduced to the gang and all it’s members! friendly reminder that this takes place BEFORE they all flee blackwater and go to the grizzly mountains (where sadie’s husband dies, same with jenny, n all that juice.)

.. ☆ next part | prev part

—✩ A WOLF’S BANE P. ⅰⅰ ✩—

word count —2.8k

a/n: here’s part two!! you gettin’ along with the Van Der Linde ladies n such! n arthur’s forced to take you on a lil shopping trip 🫶🏼🤭🪭

Your eyes shot awake at the sound of shattering glass, a strained noise escaping your throat. “Gosh darn it,” a woman’s voice comes from your left, and you turn your head. “Where am I?” You moaned, adjusting your body. It was dark out, which confused you. Her head swung back, and she hollered out. “Hosea, Hosea! She’s awake!” Two men rush in, one who you recognized as Dutch, the other you assumed was Hosea.

“We really didn’t think you’d make it, y’know it’s a miracle you even survived.” Hosea pressed the back of his hand against your forehead as he spoke. “How long was I out?” You mutter. Your voice was raspy from lack of use. “About four days,” he replied, and you swallowed thickly before he continued his speech. “We had our people on shifts to check on your fever, Dutch was going nuts about you, it made Molly insane. You were suffering from blood poisoning.” Hosea hummed and handed you a cup of water. You didn’t even know you were thirsty until you saw the cup, immediately grabbing it, and chugging it down. Water dribbled down your chin and collarbones and yet you couldn’t care less.

“I’m glad to hear you’re up and functioning, dear,” Dutch rejoined. “Did you want to meet the rest of the gang?”

Gang? You wondered. Why did they save me?

You didn’t understand—only have the knowledge of most gangs being violent and bloodthirsty outlaws. But you still gave Dutch a nod in return. Hosea gently grabbed your lower arm, helping you lift yourself up and out of the tent, his arm placed under yours to hold you up and help you walk. Dutch followed both you and Hosea out, and you immediately earned some states and glares.

“A’right, everyone! The one you’ve all ‘been wonderin’ about has finally woken up, and I’d like to formally introduce her to the gang,” Dutch announced, standing in front of the campfire that was surrounded on log seats. Quickly, people began to scramble from their tents and corners, seating themselves on the floor and logs.

“You’ve already met Charles Smith, John Marston, Javier Escuella, and Arthur Morgan. If you didn’t know their names, now you do.” He pointed toward each one of the boys you’d seen chasing down the coach. “Thank you,” you smiled lightly to all four of them. They looked confused at the gratitude. “For saving me.” John looked somewhat annoyed, and distant. You didn’t pay any attention to it—though you would have if Dutch didn’t state he was the “hot-headed” one.

“Susan Grimshaw is the nice lady in the purple and black blouse,” he continued, pointing at a woman who was drinking coffee. She was the one who alerted Hosea of your awakening. “She considers herself the lead of the bunch.” He muttered softly with a chuckle, you managed a small laugh as well. You raised your hand, a small greeting gesture, and she nodded her head once, kindly.

He pointed at a group of girls. “Our girls; Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth, Karen, Abigail Marston, and off to the side, Molly and Sadie Adler.” You took notice of Abigail having the same last name as John's, and her arms being around the shoulders of a little boy who you assumed was their son. Your cheeks flushed sweetly, adoring the mother and son. Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen offered you smiles and waves. Karen, you guess being the outgoing of the bunch, blew you a kiss, and the other girls giggled, including you.

Molly simply rolled her eyes at you, and Sadie tipped her hat. There were several different personalities between the women at the camp, and it left you feeling a bit anxious. Surely, they’ve all killed, but you’ve never been at the hands of murder, and around these gang members, you couldn’t tell if it was a bad or a good thing.

Dutch then introduced you to a few others; Lenny Summers, Jenny Kirk, Uncle, Micah Bell, Orville Swanson, Jake who was Sadie’s husband, Simon Pearson was a rescued Navy cook, Sean MacGuire, Josiah Trelawny, Bill Williamson, and Jack, Abigail and John’s son. There were so many names to remember, and yet there were some who went by their last names. Lenny and Jenny seemed to be rather close, which was a fairly strange, yet adorable sight.

The leader nudged you slightly with his elbow, you figured it was him asking you to introduce yourself, so you did. Pearson stood up, and rubbed his hands together. “Now, who’s ready for some stew?” He called, making his way to a large brewing pot, your nose followed the scent.

The gang members grabbed bowls, and Pearson poured soup into their bowls with a ladle. A man, Arthur, handed you a bowl. “Accidentally grabbed two, don’t be shy.” He said coolly, then pushed you forward by the small of your back.

You were the next in line, and you simply held your bowl out to Pearson, who poured you a scoop, then another. One of the men behind you, Micah Bell, yelled out. “That ain’t fair, we all get one, porky.”

“She’s hungrier than all of you,” Pearson replied, waving you off. “She hasn’t eaten in four days, you can starve if you wanna act like that.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you quickly made your way over to the fire. You seated yourself on a log, and Abigail, John’s wife, and their son, seated themselves next to you. “Hi, honey, how are you settling?” Abigail scooted closer.

“Good, I believe,” you hummed in reply, scooping some soup up to swallow. It was creamy, though a bit dull in taste. You blinked. Maybe you’d be able to find some use to the gang in the kitchen, just until it was your time to leave.

“You’ll fit in fine, here, don’t you worry.” Abigail smiled sweetly, and it made you wonder how such a kind-hearted woman would love a man as venomous as John Marston.

“How is it that you and him met?” You couldn’t help but ask, but thankfully she seemed to not be bothered. “I worked dirty to get money, met Uncle, and to put a long story short, I found myself with the Van Der Linde game, and I fell in love with the man.”

You nodded, unsure if you’d brought up a sensitive topic, and made a self reminder to not ask of her past again. As you finished the last bits of your soup, you began to fall tired, and you stood. “Thank you for treating me so kindly,” you nodded your head, and waved to her son, which he returned before you began making your way back to Arthur.

“Arthur, right? Do you know where I put my dishes?” You ask quietly, and he pulls his head up from eating his own bowl. “Pearson will do it for ya.” He replied. You nodded, and made your way back to the cook. “You done? Just hand me your bowl and I’ll take care of it for you.” He held his hand out, and you handed him the bowl. “Thank you, Pearson.” He only lifted his hand in reply to your thanks, which you didn’t mind.

One of the girls from earlier came up beside you, and touched your arm lightly. “Hi, honey, do you need me to take you back to your tent? You look awfully worn out and overstimulated!” It was Tilly, and based on her composure, she was gentle and sweet. “I would appreciate it, Miss. Tilly.” You calmly breathed in the fresh air. “Tilly is fine, no need to get professional with me,” Tilly laughed gently, took your arm, and guided you back to your tent.

You were full, tired, and ready to go to sleep, even after you’d been for practically ages from what the gang said. Hosea had met you at the entrance of the tent, and your eyebrows stitched together in worry. Was he there to send you off?

Hosea said your name and you were relieved to notice no aggression or scold in his voice. “Hey-ya,” your left eyebrow raises higher than the other, but you keep a serene smile on your face. Tilly, when eyes landed on her kindfully to gesture it was a private matter, she whispered her goodnights to you and wandered off behind you.

“Dutch asked that you talk to him in the mornin’, his message from me, he ain’t upset at’cha, so that ain’t somethin’ to worry about.” Hosea’s voice was low yet reassuring.

“Thank you, Hosea.” You take your dress between your fingers and spare the man a curtsy. “Have a lovely night.”

“You also, dear.” His voice stayed monotone, and he walked back to the campfire that the rest of the gang sat around.

You stepped into your tent that Tilly had led you to. Inside lay a cot, and a footchest at the end. Two blankets were folded on top of the cot. You took one of the blankets, then the other, and laid your body on the bedding. There wasn’t a pillow, but you had the second blanket that was provided as a replacement.

The blankets were rather thin, but it reminded you of your home back in Strawberry. Your home was something to be compared to rubbish, as you were struggling financially with not many jobs being open to women. All because men had their different beliefs that overpowered feminine belief. “Women were the rescued, not the rescuer,” some would commonly say whenever you made a statement to a missing persons poster that frequently popped into Strawberry.

You slipped into bed and under the thin blanket, and laid your head down on the other. Slowly, your eyes shut, and your hands balled the blanket in your knuckles in a coddling manner to comfort yourself to sleep.

To you, sleep was a bit of a difficult thing to fall into the arms of. You felt that holding something close—something memorable, comforted you into a lulled state.

Due to exhaustion, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, this time, and you allowed yourself to feel safe and well-protected around the gang.

——

Your hands rubbed a pair of slacks against a washboard. Mary-Beth was also hand washing, and Karen too, while the rest of the girls put the washed clothing on a line to dry. “You’re fitting in well, doll.” Karen nudged your arm and giggled hysterically.”You really think so?” Your cheeks flushed slightly. “We all do!” Tilly chimes in over your shoulder. “There’s too many damn men here.” Karen huffs, earning a loud crowd of laughter and agreeing noises from the other girls.

Dutch calls your name in the distance, and you blink. “Go right ahead, honey, I’ll take over.” Abigail’s hand pats your shoulder reassuringly.

You stood, and walked yourself up the hill back into the heart of camp. Dutch waves you over to his tent, the largest of all the tents within the camp due to him sharing it with Molly.

“Dutch—Hosea told me you wanted to talk, I totally forgot.” You frowned, but he didn’t seem frustrated or disappointed.

“Yer a’right, I know yer settlin’ in, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Dutch still kept a smile, which had your worries rush away. “Did you want to join us?”

His words left you surprised. “Yer welcome to be a part of the Van Der Linde gang. We’d hold out our arms to you entirely. Another gunwoman would be a fine addition.”

An eyebrow raised much against your favor, and it took you a moment to figure out what the gang leader had meant. When you did come to realize, your hands searched your hips.

“It’s a’right, we got’em in the footchest at the end of y’r cot.” Dutch’s reassurance calmed you down quickly. Those revolvers were important to you, and you’d never forgive yourself if you’d lost them.You took a small breath, then exhaled. “Dutch, I ain’t never shot a gun in my life.” Your voice stayed low with slight embarrassment. His eyes widened slightly, and his head tilted a tad to the side in confusion. “Ya own those two beautiful pairs of guns and ya don’t know how to use them?” Dutch scoffed humorously.

“They belonged to someone,” you bit your lip slightly—bit back the memories, cowering them down low. “That’s fine, doll, ya don’t need to explain.” He sighed calmly. You earned yourself a bit of a relief. “My men could mentor you, if that would peak your interest.”

You still weren’t sure if gang life was fit for you. Perhaps it was even finally going against your own beliefs. “Dutch, I’m not all that sure that shootin’ and robbin’ is fit for me.” You bit down on your tongue anxiously. “If it gives you any idea for your stay, I’d say I can see you as one helluva sharpshooter, Miracle.” His voice was low and fatherly, the nickname leaving you feeling warm. “It takes a believer to truly believe, and you are more than just a believer.”

More than just a believer, you repeated in your head once more. Miracle.

Dutch made his way toward Hosea, and the older man’s gaze locked upon you a moment before it aimed back at his gang leader. Suddenly, pressure was heavy on your shoulders. You had a home; however, the camp around people who somewhat enjoyed your presence made you feel more at home than anywhere.

“Shoot,” you muttered to yourself and rushed back to your tent. Dutch had told you the twin revolvers were stashed in a lockbox at the end of your cot. You needed to hurry back to Valentine for your prescription—the whole reason you’d gone there in the first place. If you could hail a stagecoach somewhere on the road, you needed to hope you had a few coins to spare.

You searched the pockets of your now dirtied litten dress, and you ground your teeth together. It was an expensive one, the most expensive thing you had in your wardrobe back at Strawberry. Nothing, not even a single coin was in your pockets. You assumed the O’Driscoll boys who’d attempted to kidnap you had stolen your change, so you scolded yourself lightly. Instead, you just opened the lockbox, and pulled out your belt that held your holsters, wrapping it around your waist. Your guns came out next, and you secured them in their holsters.

You stepped out of your tent again, and your eyes searched for Hosea, or Dutch. You bit your bottom lip. Dutch would most likely be busy, and you couldn’t see Hosea around the camp.

Arthur was leaning against a tree with his arms against his chest. With hesitation, you walked over towards the man, and bit your tongue. To you, it felt somewhat awkward to be breathing in the same air as the gang member.

You inhaled, and exhaled. “Arthur?” Your voice was calm, and in a manner, small. Reluctantly, his head turned toward you, and his eyes pierced into yours.

“I’m listenin’,” he stated.

“I hate to be a burden to you already, but I had originally been in Valentine to pick up a medication from the doctor’s office. I don’t have any change to hitch a ride on a coach.”

He releases a husky sigh, both of his boots meeting with the dirt on the floor as he toed himself off the tree.

“C’mon then, make it quick.” His voice rasps.

Before the brunette could walk off towards his horse with you behind him, Dutch, with a raised hand waved him over.

“Arthur, Arthur!” The man calls.

Your eyes shoot down to his other hand that holds paper.

Money.

“Here, this oughta the expenses for sum clothes for the girl.” He smiles kindly, sparing you a generous wink as he holds out the cash to the taller gentleman.

Arthur’s tongue rolls out to wet his lips as he silently counts the money to himself. You watch his eyebrows furrow.

“Eighty dollars? Have’ya about lost y’damn mind?” He grunts. “Mind I remind you we saved her life? She should’b givin’ us eighty dollars.”

“Yea, might that b’so, but she was shot in the process with ‘er clothes torn to shreds.” Dutch argues, his tone growing stern.

“Now, do the lady a favor, ‘n take her shoppin’. I ain’t askin’ f’r very much, am I?”

You stand there fiddling with your hands, watching the two standoff in an odd staring contest before Arthur turns and waves the gang leader off.

“You tell me if that man causes’ya any problems, darlin’.” Dutch pats your shoulder softly.” “Off you go.”

You nod and smile softly, following after Arthur once Dutch himself flees the scene.

“Pick up th’ pace!” You wince at his sudden yell.

You figured the ride would be awkward now.

[sky-is-the-limit]

You know why I'm a hoe? Bc every time I enter a new fandom, I have my main bitch who is my no1, my new obsession, the one I thirst over like the finest dish, thinking that I'm gonna be loyal and then BOOM side character creeps in and I start occasionally cheating on my main piece with the side piece that didn't even do it for me the first time I laid eyes on them, yes I'm mentally ill-

[tinyluvs]

need joel miller and arthur morgan to tag team me x

[dejwrld]

i just realized when i was writing for video game characters i did not have to deal with that

[tinyfishtits]

Arthur the storm chaser 🌪️

[whatthefuckdoesaejmean]

i wish people made edits of kratos like they do with arthur morgan, itd be funny as hell. kratos thirst trap edit.

[ghouligancentral]

Me? I need a vacation.

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Summary- Hosea creates an opportunity for Arthur and the reader to go on a little trip.

A/N- It's Arthur Morgan lovin' hour y'all! I am probably going to make it into a mini series, with each story taking place in a different location. Our boy Arthur really does deserve a vacation.

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Slightly possessive Arthur Morgan, Cuddling, sharing a bath.

Rating/warning: Rated 18+ for smut. Smut is in between the ************** so it can be skipped if you're not feeling it.

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You let out a long sigh as you see Dutch, once again, berating Arthur about something or another. You have half the mind to go over there and tell Dutch to shove it, but you know what Arthur would say. He’d tell you that ‘it's just Dutch’. Blessedly you are pulled out of your rising frustration by the sound of Hosea calling your name. You wave him over before turning back to watch the men talk.

“Hey Hosea,” you mumble as you rest your elbows on your knees. Hosea takes a seat next to you so that you both get a good look at Dutch and Arthur talking.

“Dutch never lets up on your husband, does he?” Hosea utters as he too watches the men.

“No, but I’d be damned if I didn’t say he oughta give Arthur a break.”

“Well, that’s precisely what I’ve been thinkin’," Hosea responds with a smile.

Now that caught your interest, you turn to look at Hosea prompting him to further explain.

“I think the both of you need a little break. Take some time off, go into a town, relax and get some rest for a while,” Hosea explains as he gives you a light pat on the back. The thought excites you a little. While in Saint-Denis you heard talk of something newlyweds were beginning to do called a ‘honeymoon’. During this time couples would go on a trip just for the sake of enjoying it. You and Arthur had been married for about a year and a half now, so you wouldn’t consider yourselves as ‘newlyweds’ but the idea sounded fun. However, your heart sank when the reality of the undertaking hit you.

“And how do you suppose we do that? Dutch probably already has another job for Arthur and Grimshaw will just about lose her mind if she thinks I’m going off for a leisure trip,” you sigh as you slump back down in your seat.

“I’ve got a plan that’ll solve that problem,” Hosea grins as he speaks.

” I’ll tell Dutch and Susan that I’ve got you doing a job for hmm,” Hosea asks as though he is thinking, but you know him better than that, he already has this planned down to the last detail,” a month.”

“A month! We can’t be gone for a whole month! We certainly don’t have the savings for that.”

You look at him with wide eyes. While both you and Arthur work your tails off for money, most of that goes to the gain. You tend to keep a larger cut for yourself than Arthur does, but that meager amount still doesn’t give you nearly enough.

“I’ve thought of that too,” Hosea says as he tries to keep the smile off of his face. Hosea lifts the strap of the bag he’s wearing and places it over your shoulder.

“What’s this?” you ask as he begins untying the front of the satchel. Hosea flips the top piece open to reveal stacks of cash. Your eyes widen at the sight. You’ve never seen so much cash in one place, except for maybe a bank.

“This is for the both of you. It’s 500 dollars.” Hosea announces.

“But we can’t just take your money….”

Your words trail off as you continue looking at the bag of money in your lap.

“There’s none I’d rather go to. You better believe me when I say Arthur does more for this gang than it deserves. Consider this a payment for the debt we owe him,” Hosea grins as he says the words.

“Thank you,” you utter, still too stunned to form full sentences.

“No you take that boy and make him get some rest,” Hosea exclaims as he closes the bag and ties it back up.

“Where’d you get all this anyways?” You ask playfully as you squint at him. Hosea takes a moment to laugh before offering you an explanation.

“I may be an old man, but that don’t mean I can still do a job on my own now,” Hosea remarks before standing and offering you a hand to help you stand as well,” now, let’s go tell the others that you and Arthur have a very important job to do.”

You smile as you take his hand and stand, before walking over with him to where Dutch and Arthur are.

“Now I’ve got this plan here—”

“Dutch, I need to talk to you for a second.”

Hosea interrupts Dutch and pulls him off to the side before throwing his arm over the other man’s shoulder. Hosea and Dutch speak quietly for a few moments, you can’t make out the words but you know the conversation is about the both of you as Dutch keeps raising his eyebrows in your direction every so often. As the two older men talk, Arthur gives you a questioning look expecting you to elaborate on the situation.

You lean in close to him before whispering,” I’ll explain later.” You watch as Dutch’s brow furrows and you fear that he won’t agree to the plan, but, as always, Hosea manages to ease Dutch’s worries, prompting him to give a little nod. The two men make their way back to you and Arthur.

“So it seems that my plan has to wait ‘cause Hosea already has a job for the both of you. Hosea already explained it to [y/n] here and she agreed,” Dutch states, and Arthur just cocks his eyebrows in response before Dutch continues,” It seems like this is going to involve a lot of travel and time so I guess we won't be seein’ the two of you for a month.”

Arthur’s eyes widen at the statement. He was used to being sent on long jobs, but never with you. At this moment he didn’t really care what the job entailed, he was just too excited at the idea of spending a whole month with you.

“When do we leave?” Arthur asks as he looks from Dutch to Hosea, you, too, were wondering the same thing.

“First thing in the morning,” Hosea explains, “that should give the two of you time to get your things together. Now, if you will excuse Dutch and me, we have to go talk to Susan.”

—-------------- “Alright,” Arthur announces as he pulls back the tent opening, ushering you inside,” You’ve gotta start explain’ some things. What’s this ‘job’ Hosea has us doing?”

You smile widely as you look up at Arthur.

“He told me that we should go on a trip, like a honeymoon.”

“A honey what?” Arthur questions as he flops down on the cot. Arthur lets out a tired groan at the feeling of finally being able to sit down.

“A honeymoon. It’s when a new couple takes a trip just to enjoy themselves. Heaven knows that you definitely deserve a vacation,” you exclaim, plopping down beside him.

“Right, so how does Hosea expect us to be able to afford all of this? I mean, we’re not exactly rolling in cash right now,” Arthur sighs.

“Hosea gave me this,” you announce as you untie the top flap of the satchel,” It’s $500.” Arthur’s eyes go wide in response to what he sees.

“But how? We can’t just accept this. What about the gang?”

Arthur rambles on for a bit before you stop him.

“Arthur Morgan,” you state sternly,” this gang has taken almost everything from you. Hell, they probably owe you more than this for all you have done. If you can’t accept the money or the trip for yourself, then just do it for me.”

Arthur nods as he lets the words sink in. You know he’d do anything for you. He’d leave everything and just walk away from the gang if you asked him to.

“Okay. For you. So where do you wanna go?” you ask. Arthur wraps an arm around your shoulder before pulling you closer to him.

“Anywhere as long as I’m with you, Mrs. Morgan.” —--------------------------------

The both of you decide to start your trip by heading out west. While its vast expanses and beautiful scenery are alluring, the lack of people also proves to be the bigger selling point. Fewer people mean there is less of a chance that you or Arthur would get recognized.

That evening, while Arthur is finishing up a couple of tasks around the camp, you work on packing all the essentials, which for this trip, is basically everything the both of you own, not there is that much. You hear someone cough outside of your tent and you turn to find Hosea leaning up against one of its posts.

“So you two make a decision on where yer going to go?” Hosea asks as he folds his arms across his chest.

“Yes, we are heading out West,” you explain as you step closer to him, offering him a wide grin. Hosea nods in approval.

“Good. Lots of space out there. Bess loved when we would go in the spring, she always enjoyed seeing the flowers,” Hosea sighs, a twinge of sadness creeping into his words. You give him a moment to reminisce before asking the question that is on your mind.

“Hosea, what happens when we get back and don’t have any money from the supposed job?”

Hosea just chuckles a little before he replies.

“Mrs. Morgan, do you really think that your husband would let the two of you come back empty-handed?” Hosea replies. He makes a good point. If you know Arthur, and you do, seeing as you are married to the man, always has some sort of plan brewing in the back of his mind at all times.

“Just don’t let him work too hard. This is a vacation for him after all,” Hosea smiles but his words are interrupted by a coughing fit. Sadness strikes you as you watch the man double over, and you move to help him take a seat but he just waves you off. After a moment, Hosea manages to get control over his lungs and stands back up. The exhaustion in his eyes is clear.

“Now if you just happen to find yourselves in the position that you can do so, why don’t the two of you scope out the area to see if there is any place that would be a good area for the gang in the future,” Hosea mentions as brings a hand up and rubs it against his chin,” I ain’t got much time left and I just wanna make sure the gang is in a good place before I go.”

You nod solemnly, understanding just how much this gang means to Hosea, Arthur would be the same way if he were to be in a similar position. You quickly push the thought of losing Arthur far from your mind as

“Oh, I forgot to ask. How did it go with Ms. Grimshaw?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“It wasn’t pretty but Dutch and I didn’t really give her a say in the matter,” Hosea chuckles. You have to smile to yourself, you know how stubborn the woman can be. However, you doubt the camp would even be able to make it without her.

“Everything alright?” Arthur asks as he approaches the two of you.

“Just finalizing the last details. You choose a great place to go, Arthur. Fresh mountain air, clear skies, a place to really relax,” Hosea announces as he pats the man on the back,” well I best get a move on and let you two finish your packing.”

Both you and Arthur say your goodbyes to Hosea before you turn around to resume gathering your things. Arthur walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you back against him.

“You happy?” Arthur hums before placing a kiss on your neck. You sigh a small ‘uh huh’ as you relax into the man’s touch.

“Good,” Arthur responds as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck,” I really need a vacation.”

The next morning the two of you get an early start, heading out of camp just as dawn is breaking. You had said your goodbyes to the others the previous evening, so there was no need to wait on them to wake up.

It was going to take you a couple of days to reach Colorado, so you had planned a couple of stops on the way. The first was in the town of Strawberry, and you were able to reach it by mid-day. You were already a little tired from the ride, so Arthur decided to go ahead and rent a room for the two of you. The plan was to rest for an hour or two before doing some supply shopping around the area, however, those plans quickly change when you see the hungry look in his eyes.

As Arthur is paying for the room, you look over to see his intense gaze upon you. Those icy blue eyes are almost predatory. He wants you. You feel the first hints of arousal gathering in your core as the two of you remain locked in a stare.

Arthur has no idea what got him going, but he sure as hell isn’t going to complain. Maybe it was the thought that he finally has some time alone with you, no chance of being interrupted by the gang, no responsibilities to uphold, just you and him with the freedom to do as you please.

You smirk at him as he strides over to you after receiving the key from the hotel staff. He grabs your wrist and has you follow him up the stairs to your room.

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You barely have time to walk through the door to your room before Arthur slams it shut and locks it. Turning back you see the look in his eyes is wild and hungry. You know what that look means. He wants you and he’s going to have you. 

Arthur drops the saddle bags to the floor before he crashes his lips into yours. The kiss is desperate, you feel his tongue explore your mouth as he backs you up against the bed. The both of you flop onto the bed when your knees hit the back of the frame. You let out a little squeak at the feeling of Arthur landing on top of you. Arthur pushes himself up onto his elbows so that he is holding his weight instead of you. 

“Sorry darlin’,” Arthur murmurs as he pulls away from the kiss before beginning to place hot, open mouthed kisses along your jawline. A moan escapes your lips as you feel his hand wander over your body, as he fiddles with the buttons of your blouse. 

“Damn it!” Arthur growls when he has to pull away from your jaw to focus on the buttons keeping him from feeling your soft skin in his hands. With all of his focus being on the blouse, Arthur quickly manages to remove the shirt. He feels his cock stir in his trousers at the sight of your bare skin before him. Arthur helps you to sit up as he finishes removing the blouse and your chemise. You gasp as you feel his calloused hands begin to caress your tender skin. 

You feel the rough scratch of his stubble as he gently places kisses onto your breasts. As his mouth showers one breast in attention, his hand attends to the other, pinching your nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation has you moaning out his name and arching your back. You feel yourself grow even more damp with the action and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache there. 

“Arthur,” you muse, causing Arthur to look up into your eyes,” I’m supposed to be takin’ care of you on this trip.” 

You know Arthur gets off on giving you pleasure, but you still can’t help but feel a little guilty for just laying there under him, doing nothing. 

“Oh darlin, you really wanna please me?”

You give an eager nod. A smile spreads across Arthur’s face as he brings one hand up to cup your cheek before he positions himself so that his mouth is right next to your ear. ,” if you really want to take care of me you’ll just lay and let me hear those moans while if fuck this sweet little pussy.”

Arthur emphasizes his words by rubbing his hand against your clothed core. The combination of his words and movements have you whining pitifully underneath him. His trousers are painfully tight, the feeling of his hard member pressed up against your thigh has him desperate. After his battle with your blouse, Arthur decides to forgo the removal of your skirt. 

Arthur grunts as bunches up your skirt so that he can access your core. You let out a moan as you felt him sliding two fingers into you. Normally Arthur would take his time, slowly teasing you with fingers and mouth before finally giving you what you wanted, but today was different. Arthur was fucking you with his fingers roughtly as he nips at your collar bone. You can hear him fumbling around with his gun belt with one hand while his other continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. You have one hand fisted into the sheets while the other grasps as his shirt. Arthur tosses his gun belt off to the side of the bed before working to undo the front of his trousers. 

A groan escapes his lips when he manages to free his hard cock. He gently removes his fingers from your center, causing you to whine a little at the loss. Arthur chuckles at the sound. 

“Oh don’t you worry darlin’,” Arthur smirks as the words leave his mouth,” I’ve got something that I think you’re gonna like a lot more.”

You wiggle your hips to signal that you’re ready for him, but to your confusion, Arthur gets up off the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what he is doing, before he grabs your calves, roughly pulling you to the edge of the bed. You hold your bunched up skirt out of the way as you watch Arthur position himself at your entrance. 

“Alright, hold on,” Arthur instructs as he brings one of your hands up to wrap around his neck. What does he me by— 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Arthur thrusting into as he wraps his arms around your back. He’s a big man and he knows it so he gives you a few moments to adjust to his size. The stretch of him has you closing your eyes and fisting both hands into the fabric of his shirt. Arthur’s thumb rubs soothing circles on your thigh as he coos praises at you. Telling you that you’re such a good girl and that you're his good girl. You squeak as he lifts you up into the air and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. Arthur doesn’t start slow. He starts railing up into you at a punishing pace. The feeling of the rough fabric of his shirt against your naked breasts adds to much sensation to the already overwhelming pleasure. The gasps and groans of the two of you can be heard echoing throughout the room. You are glad that it’s midday so not many people in the hotel can hear your love making. Arthur walks the both of you over to a wall and presses your back against it, this gives him the opportunity to move his hands down so that he is supporting you with one hand on your rear and the other tightly gripping your thigh. 

The angle of his thrusts has him hitting your g-spot with every movement. Arthur can feel your slick leaking out onto his trousers as he continues to fuck you. You move your hand so that it is buried in his hair. You give it a little tug to indicate you want Arthur to lean in for a kiss. Arthur gently places his lips against yours. However, the kiss is anything but gently, you lightly bite at this lower lip, causing him to growl. He increases the ferocity of his thrusts as he continues to kiss you. 

“Ah Arthur,” you moan as he continues to fill you. 

“You like this. I know you do,” Arthur purrs in your ear. You can feel the tell tale signs of an orgasm approaching as the heat in your core begins to coil tighter. You attempt to give your clit some sort of friction by grinding yourself against Arthur, but it is impossible at this angle. However, Arthur must sense your frustration, he braces you against the wall before snaking one of his hands in between your bodies. It takes him a moment to weave himself under your skirt before his hand finds its way to where the both of you meet. You let out a long groan as you feel a calloused thumb beginning to rub a small circle against your clit. 

Just as you are about to reach your peak, there is a knock at the door. “Damn it,” Arthur whispers, remembering that he had told the hotel staff to bring up some water for a bath. Arthur slows his thrusts but doesn’t stop, only pushing in about half way before pulling out and repeating the motion. You clamp your hand over your mouth to keep from moaning. 

“Just a minute!” Arthur calls out as he begins rubbing your clits harder. This causes your orgasm to wash over you. Your legs shake in his grasp and you have to bite your lip to keep from making any noise. Arthur pulls out and quickly sets you down on the bed before throwing a blanket over you. He tucks himself back into his trousers as he walks over to the door. He opens it and takes the two large buckets of steaming water from the bellboy standing there. Arthur thanks him before setting the buckets inside of the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Everything good?” Arthur smiles, watching you trying to catch your breath. He carries the water over and pours it into the small wooden tub in the corner of the room. You watch as steam begins to rise up from the water before you answer Arthur. 

“Yes. What about you?” You question as you begin to throw the blanket off of yourself. Arthur makes a motion, indicating for you to remain in place. Arthur walks back over to stand next to the bed before cupping your cheek in his hand. 

“He’s coming back with two more buckets of water. Don’t want him seein’ what’s mine,'' Arthur purrs as he lightly strokes your jaw with his thumb. Just as expected, there is another knock at the door. Arthur once again answers it and retrieves two more buckets of water along with some towels and soap. This time he locks the door when he closes it. While he adds the water to the tub, you stand and finish undressing yourself before walking over and stand behind Arthur. 

“Now let me take care of my husband,” you coo as you run your hands down his back gently. Arthur groans at the touch,” whatever ya say darlin’. I’m all yours.”

You smirk as you walk around to the front of him, hand still trailing along on this body. Your hands begin undoing the buttons of his shirt as his hands message the meat of your outer thighs. Moving to his suspenders after you finish with his shirt, you manage to unbutton them quickly. You gently push him down until he is sitting on a small wooden stool. You sink to your knees to first pull off one boot and then the other. One of your hands brushes against his hard cock as you undo his trousers. He moans your name in response. He stands back up to allow you to remove his pants. You have to take a moment to admire his large thick cock before continuing. 

“Hop in,” you say, gesturing to the tub.

“What about you? Aren’t ya gonna join me?” Arthur asks as he steps one foot into the warm water. 

“Maybe but there’s something I want to do first,” you explain as you walk over to grab the soap and towel left sitting by the door. Arthur lets out a pleased sigh as he slowly sinks into the water. Arthur dunks his head under the water and comes back up, wiping away the dirt from his face. You move the wooden stool so that it is sitting beside the tub before having a seat on it. Arthur leans back and closes his eyes as he feels himself relax. 

“Feel good?” you question as you lather up some soap in between your hands. Arthur just hums in response as he feels your fingers run through his wet hair. You begin to gently massage the soap into his hair, you can feel his muscles ease up as you begin to trail your hand down to his shoulders. You continue with your message as you knead the tension out of his biceps. 

“Feels good,” Arthur mumbles as your hands continue to work on him. 

“Good,” you coo in his ear as you get off the stool and onto your knees. This way you can reach deeper into the tub. Arthur groans as he feels one of your hands moving lower. You follow the hair on his chest down to where you were planning to go all along. Arthur gasps and opens his eyes as you gently wrap your fingers around his hard member. You just shush him and encourage him to close his eyes again. 

“Let me take care of you.”

Arthur's eyes slide shut one more as you begin rubbing his cock with your hand. You make sure to give the sensitive head some extra attention by rubbing your thumb over it on every up stroke. Arthur’s hips begin lightly thrusting up to meet your movements. 

“Oh fuck,” he grunts as he feels himself getting closer. You speed up your movements. 

“Come on Arthur, be a good boy and cum for me,” you whisper. Arthur nearly doubles over as he cums hard. Ropes of thick, white cum land on his stomach as your name falls from his lips. 

“I love ya darlin’,” Arthur pants and he tries to catch his breath after such an intense orgasm. 

“I love you too,” You reply as you caress the stubble on his cheek before reaching over to grab a washcloth. Arthur smiles as he watches you wipe away the traces of his orgasm from his chest. 

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“You gonna join me?” Arthur chuckles as he offers you a hand to help you into the bath.

"Sure you won't be too cramped?" You ask, hesitating to take his hand.

"No. I'd actually be offended if you don't get in here."

With this you take his hand before you step into the tub. Arthur has a leg on either side of your body as he pulls you flush against his chest. 

“Besides,” Arthur explains as he starts to massage soap into your hair,” this is your vacation too.”

The warm water eases the tension in your muscles and you allow your eyes to flutter closed as you lean your head back, resting it on Arthur.

“See, I was right. Now just relax,” Arthur coos in your ear. He hums as he continues to lather your body in soap. 

The both of you remain seated in the water until it turns cold before deciding to get out. As you dry off your legs, you turn to find Arthur smiling at you. 

“Do you mind?” you giggle as you continue to rub your body with the towel. 

“Not at all,” Arthur smirks before walking over to you. He places a gentle kiss on your head before resuming the task of redressing. 

Oh this will be a fun vacation. 

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