#arthur morgan romance

[arthursfuckinghat]

｡ﾟ Will you welcome your extinction in the morning rays? ﾟ｡

[rosemary-morgan]

HC's - Making love with them includes... (+18!)

Warning: Nsfw 18+! Language, cum play, oral sex, erotic massages, chocking

Characters: Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith X Female Reader. Missing someone? Feel free to ask (❁´◡`❁)

Thanks to all who read and like my stories. Stay healthy and take care, my lovely bees 🐝🌺

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

(Just the screenshots are mine)

Javier Escuella

He is in a flirty mood all the time. Just like you. You both can hardly wait to be undisturbed. You need your peace and quiet, far away from the others, to give each other the love you need.

You have been a couple for three weeks now and you are madly in love. There is nothing as delightful for you as making love to Javier.

And you do it very often. But as already mentioned, you prefer your privacy.

Often you will retreat to a nearby town, where you will rent a hotel room to let your love run free. There you both can be as loud as you want; or rather, YOU can be as loud as you want.

Often, in the early morning hours when everyone is still asleep, you make love under the blankets. Quietly and secretly, Javier fucks you slowly and sensually.

⦁ Javier knows how to satisfy you and he knows what you like.

⦁ He loves to hear his name on your lips. He loves the sound of your voice as you lay whimpering before him and, by God, he loves to see your body tremble while he fucks you.

⦁ Also he enjoys whispering naughty words. His voice arouses you deeply, even more so when he whispers in your ear and nibbles on your earlobe.

⦁ You always take time to touch each other, kiss and enjoy the sight of each other.

⦁ Javier loves the feel of your soft skin, loves to feel your breasts on his body. The scent of your beautiful femininity.

⦁ Javier is very tender, makes sure you feel comfortable with him. But he also has a wild and passionate side that you can easily awaken. Then he can also get a little rough.

⦁ But there are also moments when you are getting wild. And that is when you have been separated for a while. Javier will tear your blouse off, rip it apart, and won't lose a moment to press his face into your tits, breathing in the scent of your skin. Whispering how much he desires you.

⦁ Oh, he loves to satisfy you with his tongue. The taste of your vagina, the sweet sound of your voice when you fall into ecstasy. Javier takes his time with it. Playing with your clit; sucking and licking it before entering deep into your wet hole and tounge-fucking you out of your mind.

⦁ But also he loves to receive as well. The sight of you kneeling in front of him, looking up at him while you have his cock in your mouth. Your plump, delicious tits pressing against his thighs...

He loves the way you play with his cock. Your fingers stroking his thick balls, massaging them, only to be taken in your mouth afterwards, greedily sucking them. Javier goes crazy every time you doing this, moaning loudly your name.

⦁ He is also into choking. Not too rough, but he grabs your throat during sex when he wants to increase the arousal; and you love it. And while he's chocking you, he's whispering things to you.

⦁ Things like, "Yo te quiero mucho" "You like the way I fuck your sweet little pussy, Y/N?" "You love it a little rougher, don't you? You're so naughty." And "When I'm done with you, I'm going to fuck you with my tongue. You like it, don't you? Oh, you sweet, sweet girl."

⦁ He loves to take you from behind. Your buttocks that wobble with every thrust. The smacking, wet sounds when his tight balls slap your pussy every time. 

⦁ And when you ride him, he enjoys the sight of your bouncing breasts. Your buttocks wobble with every thrust from him. The seductive sight when you roll your head back in pleasure and show off your gorgeous throat.

⦁ Loves to cover you with his sperm. 

⦁ Whether you kneel or lie in front of him, spreading his cum on your face or body will make him go crazy with lust!

⦁ And after your lovemaking, he will hold you in his arms, whispering loving things to you until you both fall asleep.

⦁ You will often find a rose next to your sleeping place in the morning, when Javier has to leave early for reasons.

Charles Smith

King of foreplay. He takes a lot of time to please and satisfy you. You will come at least once, before you welcome him deep inside you.

⦁ Sometimes he also gives you a massage. He rubs your beautiful body with fragrant oils and he knows exactly which parts of the body he has to massage and caress extensively to arouse you.

⦁ The sight of your shimmering tits, covert with oil, makes his cock hard as stone.

⦁ And when he massages your pussy, he takes a long time. His fingers circle your clitoris while he looks into your eyes. You clearly see the fire, the passion in them. "How does that feel? Is that good, yes?"

⦁ Eventualy, it leads him to finger-fucking you. You get incredibly wet for him, every damn time.

⦁ Love to give oral sex. Charles takes his time and enjoys you to the fullest. Your scent is overwhelming and if it were up to him, he would lie between your thighs all night. You will often hear words like: "You smell wonderful" "Mhm, you taste so good, babygirl."

⦁ His lips and tongue will explore your whole body, every corner. Charles is very tender, very careful with you, like you're as fragile as flower petals.

⦁ You love the feel of his hands when he touches you, caresses you. And the tingling on your skin where he kisses you.

⦁ Making love with you is something very special and intimate for him. Therefore, he wants to be as far away from the others as possible.

⦁ You both go camping often, and love being in nature. It also often happens that you take a longer break of several days. And in these days, you love each other passionately.

⦁ During your lovemaking you smile a lot and words full of love leave your lips.

⦁ He prefers missionary, for he wants to look into your eyes while he fucks you. This is an intimate moment you share. But Charles also loves to have sex in a sitting position. Your wonderful legs wrapped around his strong hips, your heated, sweaty bodies tightly pressed together and your trembling fingers clawing at his long hair, while he kisses your throat, your round tits... just perfect.

⦁ You have a secret place by a river; where there is no human soul, you make love at the edge of the shore. Your naked and wet bodies shimmer under the sun and under the moon.

⦁ And there's something magical about embracing each other at night while the moon shines down on you and fireflies dance around you.

⦁ Charles often spreads flower petals on your cot or on your bed. Whether it's wildflowers or roses, it's a loving gesture that says a lot.

⦁ He washes you gently with lavender water afterwards, holds you in his arms afterwards. He holds you in his arms until you fall asleep. 

Arthur Morgan

⦁ The two of you look at each other. Full of love, full of affection, holding hands and whispering words of love to each other.

⦁ He also prefers his privacy with you.

⦁ You would camp often in nature, where you can make love in your tent, protected from prying eyes.

⦁ Arthur takes his time to undress you, enjoying every moment with you. He praises your body, kisses and touches every corner with incredible tenderness. This alone arouses you so much that you get all wet for him.

⦁ The first thing he always does when you are naked is to make himself comfortable between your thighs.

⦁ He starts by kissing your inner thighs. Very slowly, agonizingly slowly, watching you very closely. Every twitch, every tremor from you he enjoys. But the most beautiful thing is to see the lust in your face.

⦁ Then, when his own lust grows to strong, he starts to eat you out like a pot of honey. He enjoys every drop. The scent of your femininity makes him crazy with lust. Arthur desires you so much.

⦁ He loves the feel of your delicate body on his manly, strong one. Your skin on his - it's heavenly.

⦁ Slow and sensual. Arthur is a pleasure seeker, but after a while the love making gets a little rougher and Arthur reaches for your body a little harder. 

⦁ He loves to press his face between your tits! It's pure pleasure for him to be able to feast on you. Greedily he takes them in his mouth, sucks on your nipple, while you claw at his hair and go for pleasure.

⦁ He also loves it when you grab his hair and pull it. Whether he's tongue-fucking you or sucking your tits, do it and he'll be yours for eternity.

⦁ He loves missionary position, for he wants to look you in the eyes while he loves you. Arthur wants to see how beautiful you are while feeling incredible pleasure.

⦁ Afterwards, he will hold you in his arms, words full of love will leave his lips. Always asking you for forgiveness, if he was too rough. 

⦁ But Arthur always takes good care of you, and lying in his arms gives you a wonderful feeling.

⦁ Sex in the kitchen is also not uncommon (depending where you live etc.) Desire often overcomes him when he sees you in, while you're making the coffee, or chopping fruit... and by God, he's going to fuck you really good from behind.

⦁ He lays you flat over the table, watching you moaning his name in pleasure. Enjoying the view every time his cock sinks deep into your pussy, his balls smacking against you... You're so wet for him...

⦁ Often he'll smack your ass, gripping it firmly.

⦁ And he is also into roleplaying - Usually he is the bounty hunter and you are his prisoner, completely at his mercy

⦁ You will often find him in the morning preparing some good breakfast for you

[drizzledrawings]

I genuinely feel so bad for homophobes,, they will never understand the JOY of gay subtext and the giddiness of shipping silly guys online

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Hi everyone! I have a new Arthur x female!OC fic I've been working on that's posted up on Ao3, so I figured I would share it here as well. Please let me know what you think! This story is currently still on-going :)

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapter 1 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

1890

Kate had never fancied herself a skilled woodworker. While she had lent a hand to her husband in constructing a barn, her role mostly entailed passing him tools and bringing him his lunch. But as she stood amidst the sawdust, tears streaking down her cheeks, she grappled with the daunting task ahead. She lacked both the sufficient wood and the patience to craft two coffins. Thus, the inevitable decision emerged: they would be laid to rest together.

The Reverend's suggestion to cremate the bodies, emphasizing the need to eradicate the disease completely, fell upon deaf ears. The mere thought of reducing her beloved husband and precious baby girl to ashes felt abhorrent to Kate. Instead, she harbored a tender hope that one day, perhaps, they would blossom into a magnificent Willow tree.

Amidst the melancholy chore, the vibrant symphony of birdsong provided a bittersweet backdrop, reminiscent of the lullabies she once crooned to her infant daughter. With a sorrowful melody humming in her heart, Kate toiled diligently, her hands blackened with grime, each wipe across her tear-stained cheeks a testament to her grief. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their modest farm in a golden hue, Kate's work pressed on.

Night descended swiftly, cloaking the world in shadows that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Kate, perched upon her porch swing, found no solace in slumber. Her vigil was solemn, her gaze never wavering from the rough-hewn coffins that cradled her entire world within their confines.

With the break of dawn, the Reverend returned, his disapproval evident, yet tempered by resignation. Together, in a somber silence, they labored to fashion a final resting place. By mid-afternoon, the grave stood ready, a solemn abyss awaiting its occupants. With the Reverend's assistance, Kate tenderly lowered her cherished husband and daughter into the earth's cold embrace.

As dusk settled, the Reverend offered prayers and parting words before taking his leave. Left alone in her sorrow, Kate felt the weight of despair bearing down upon her. In a world forged by men and seemingly devoid of solace for a solitary widow, she found herself with no recourse but to depart.

Beneath the twilight sky, the epitaph etched upon their shared gravestone bore silent witness to her profound loss:

Here Lies My Beloved Noah, And Our Beautiful Daughter, Lorena.

May God Keep Their Souls.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

1899 

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays across the sprawling expanse of Emerald Ranch, Kate found herself amidst the ebb and flow of another day's labor. Nine years had slipped by since the tragic loss of her husband and daughter, a span of time marked by wandering footsteps and the pursuit of odd jobs on her journey westward. 

She had once heard her father say they had family in California, he had many sisters but only kept in touch with one. Kate wrote to her after the death of her husband, seeking asylum with a relative with nowhere else to go. Her Aunt wrote her back and gave her condolences, she said Kate would be welcome with open arms. 

However, the last she heard of her Aunt was 7 years ago. But still, she continued west. She had come too far and been through too much to stop now. What she hoped to find in the valleys of California, she did not know anymore. Over the years she became more cowboy and less of a woman, her once soft hands now calloused by years of labor. The untamed plains and cold hard ground had become both her refuge and her bed. 

She came to Emerald Ranch only a week ago, her boss; Seamus, was reluctant to hire a stranger, let alone a woman, to help on the ranch. Kate assured him she was cheap labor and was only looking for shelter and a place to rest until she was on the move again. Kate was no stranger to odd jobs, she took any work she could get and saved as much as she could. But she was no criminal. 

She heard Seamus talking to two men as she filled the troughs with clean water. The gentlemen said they were new in town and looking for a partnership, one in which they could both make money. 

“Look I ain't no idiot, and I don't trust folks outta the blue. If you want to work together then you're gonna have to prove to me you’re worth my time.” Her boss's voice raised above the usual noise of the barn animals. 

“Of course! We’re only interested in a partnership, just looking to make a little extra money.” Carried the voice of an older gentleman. 

“No doubt. I do interesting very well. It's trusting that I don't do so well.” her boss answered, still not convinced by the two strangers.

“Look at us, we’re honest as the day is long,” said the other man with cheer. 

“You really want us to prove ourselves to this clown Hosea?” said the other voice, sounding much younger than his partner. 

Seamus scoffed, “good day to you, Hosea.” 

“N-now wait a minute Seamus. Arthur can be rough, and quick with his tongue, but I swear you can trust him, you can trust me.” Hosea pleaded, following Seamus to the side of the barn. Kate now had a clear view of the new “business partners”. 

Kate didn't know Seamus very well, but she could tell he was an honest enough man. Wise for his years, and liked to keep his nose out of trouble. “I’m an old man Hosea,” he began, “and you know why I ain’t dead yet?” 

“Because you don't trust idiots,” Hosea finished.

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots, Seamus. Let us prove it to you.” Hosea had an air of confidence, he wasn't some runaway bum looking to make a quick buck. He was serious about a partnership. Although Kate wouldn't say the same for his partner, who loomed behind them like a panther ready to pounce. 

“Okay…I’ll tell you what, old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from up north. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that,” he looked around for anyone who might be listening to his scheming, “then we can work together.” He said quietly, placing a hand on Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Who’s Old Bob Crawford?” inquired Hosea.

“An acquaintance of mine…well, not just an acquaintance. He’s my cousin, by marriage.” Seamus explained. 

“Oh so now we’re meddlin’ in your family business?” Arthur boasted with skepticism. 

Hosea waved him off and continued speaking, “Where is he located?”

“Now hang on a moment, you boys could very easily take this coach and sell it yourselves for a pretty penny,” Seamus began. 

“So you comin’ with us? I thought you didn't want to be involved in shady business?” Arthur spoke up again. 

“Heavens no, if my cousin saw me it would be my death. I'm sending someone with you, as collateral.” Seamus turned around and saw Kate already watching them, he waved her over. 

Arthur shook his head disapprovingly, “nah, I don't do babysitters Seamus.” 

Kate was just as skeptical about her part in this, she told Seamus she was looking for honest work, and robbing his cousin certainly falls out of that line. 

“She’s not babysitting . She’ll take you to my cousin's farm and let you do the robbing. Kate has been working for me for a few days now and she’s tougher than she looks.” Seamus said turning to Kate, “I want you to make sure that stage coach gets back to me. You don't need to take part in the robbery.” 

“You’re fine with them robbing your cousin?” She spoke in a hushed tone so only Seamus could hear.

“By marriage,” he added, “and yes, I would love it. The man’s been a thorn in my ass for years.” He said amused.

She nodded in acknowledgement and turned to get a good look at the two strangers. One was indeed much older than the other, with cropped white hair peeking out from under his hat. The other gentleman was tall and burly, and he hid his eyes under the brim of his hat. He seemed wary of strangers and kept both hands resting on his gun belt. 

“Let me get my horse saddled and I’ll meet you boys at the intersection leading out of town.” She spoke, Hosea nodded and was already making his way to his horse. Arthur stood for a moment eyeing the woman, no doubt playing the intimidation tactic. But Kate had seen far scarier men than him in her days. “Y'know the quicker we get this done the quicker you fellas get paid.” She noted.

Arthur scoffed and finally followed Hosea to his horse, “don't need no damn babysitter,” he grumbled kicking dust.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate made quick work of saddling her black Hungarian roan, she calls Lorena. After her infant daughter. In a moments pass she was on the dirt road leading out of Emerald Ranch and toward Carmody Dell. She waved for the two men to follow her, they stayed behind her a short distance and made no effort for small conversation.

However, she overheard snippets of their own conversation as they went, “I thought you wanted me to be the strong arm? That's usually how it goes,” Arthur spoke.

“Yes but..” Hosea hesitated, lowering his tone a little, “you know how this works.”

“Cmon Hosea that fellers a joke, he don't even trust us enough to handle it ourselves. Now we got a chaperone.” Arthur complained loudly, at least he’s not calling me a babysitter , Kate thought. 

“All the better, he won't cause us any problems. And I cant blame the guy for sending the girl. Two strangers looking for quick money? Hell, I’d want assurance too.” Hosea answered, “besides, if he’s sending protection that means there’s big money to be made. Seamus wants his cut.” 

Kate came to the same conclusion, up until now Seamus had given her the usual ranch-hand tasks. Feeding and cleaning mostly. This was very different, there must be good money for this stage coach. 

“I guess you’re right,” Arthur muttered.

Hosea mumbled something back to Arthur about “hanging up their hats” if they couldn't finish a job as easy as this. They laughed and began chatting about their travels in Emerald ranch, Kate tuned them out and began humming a song to her horse. 

Her singing always pleased her horse and calmed the girl’s nerves. She was a strong and fierce steed, but jumpy and needy like a baby sometimes. Kate thought naming her horse after her daughter would bring her closure, instead, she was almost convinced that her daughter's spirit lived on in Lorena somehow. In all ways except biological, her horse was her baby.

Carmody Dell was a short distance north past the train tracks and Fort Wallace, Kate had passed it once before. They rode at a steady pace, the men behind her never coming too close. She wondered for a moment what their story was, and why they needed money so bad. Perhaps they were travelers like her, maybe they even had a caravan. She entertained the thought of traveling with a group again, but shuddered at the memories. Her previous caravan adventures had not ended well. 

Once the ranch was in view she slowed and allowed the boys to catch up on either side of her. She led them to a grassy clearing off the road. 

“You should continue on foot from here, I’ll stay behind with your horses.” She said dismounting. The two of them nodded and dismounted their horses, Kate was almost surprised to hear no objections from Arthur. 

“C'mon son, let's see what we’re dealing with here.” Hosea commented walking towards a large rock in front of the house. 

“Son”, so they are family . She mentally noted. Arthur gave his horse a pat, “be a good girl for the lady” he said, tipping his hat towards Kate. She was slightly taken aback by the sudden politeness.

She busied herself with the horses for a bit while the men laid out their plan, she gave Hosea and Arthurs horse a treat and was about to start brushing his horse when he approached her again. Startled, she backed away from his mare, she didn't want him to think she was snooping in his saddle bags. 

“You can keep brushin’ her, she loves attention,” he half smiled reaching up and petting her snout. “I just came to tell ya’ we’re gonna wait till it gets dark. Less chance of getting caught that way.” 

“Smart,” she replied, for whatever reason she suddenly felt very shy in his presence. 

He stood a few feet away from her and she could see more of his features. He was around her age. He had short dirty blond hair under his leather hat, and bright blue/green eyes. Her eyes lingered over his body. He was big too, more than a foot taller than her and well fed and muscular. His bicep had to be the size of her head alone, and she could tell by the fabric of his button down he had a bit of a belly hidden behind his gun belt. 

“What’s her name?” His voice broke through her awkward silence. 

“Who?” She asked and looked back at him. 

He chortled, “the black beauty you got over there,” he nodded to her horse. 

Oh, duh! “Her name is Lorena, she also loves attention but she’s nervous around new people.” Kate answered, still a bit lost in her thoughts. 

Arthur made a clicking sound with his tongue, reaching out a hand and slowly walking toward her horse. “It’s alright girl,” he cooed while she sniffed his palm. He pulled out a peppermint and gave it to her, which Lorena happily accepted. 

Kate smiled at the interaction, “you introduce yourself to my horse before me?” she teased. 

“My apologies ma’am,” he turned to face her, “names Arthur Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan, I’m Kate McCanon.” She reached out her hand and he shook it. His grip was firm but polite. 

“Likewise, Miss.McCanon. That’s Belle your brushin’, and that’s Silver Dollar.” He pointed at Hosea’s horse. “I saw this beauty when we first rode into Emerald ranch, had no idea she was yours tho.” He was talking about her horse again, “told myself I’d inquire about buying her if she was available.” 

Kate smiled at the affection he was showing for her horse, she knew Lorena was a beautiful mare. She often received compliments on the road, and many have offered to pay for her purebred. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she’s not for sale.” 

“Well I can certainly see that,” he laughed, “she seems happy though. You must take real good care of her.” He said, his attention still on her mare as he scratched under her chin. 

“You some kind of horse breeder Mr. Morgan?” Kate asked. 

Arthur laughed, “no no. Nothing like that, though sometimes I wish I was.” He smiled as he said it but Kate noticed there was a sadness in his tone. “I just think they’re neat is all.” 

They had only just met, and while Arthur was not initially the most pleasant, she found it incredibly cute how enraptured he was by her horse. 

“I should probably also apologize for my rudeness earlier, it’s been a rough couple weeks for us and we uh- don’t always take too kindly to strangers.” Arthur took off his hat as he spoke and held it to his chest, a sincere gesture. 

Kate was shocked, the man she met at Emerald ranch not even an hour ago seemed like a completely different person than the man before her. His cold demeanor was gone, or at least reined in at the moment. 

“No apology needed Mr. Morgan. I understand,” She answered. “Although I wouldn’t call it rude, you were just skeptical. Rightfully so, can I ask what brings you to Emerald Ranch?” 

Arthur looked away from her as he spoke, choosing to focus on her horse. “We’re just stayin’ in the area for a few weeks. Passin’ through and tryna make money.” 

“By robbing stagecoaches?” Kate said in an amused tone, “you a bunch of outlaws or something?” She continued, half-joking. 

Arthur looked at her with surprise, “What? No, we uh- got laid off from the railway. Up-north. Just looking for money so we can find a place to settle down again. That’s all.” He looked away again, avoiding her gaze. 

“I’ll say it again, by robbing stagecoaches?” She kept her tone playful, but wasn’t entirely convinced by his story. But it felt good to be the intimidator.

“Wasn’t our idea, Seamus asked us to rob his cousin!” His voice rose slightly with anger. 

“By marriage,” Kate retorted. 

Arthur was about to speak again but only stared at her. 

“I’m just pulling your leg Mr. Morgan.” Kate laughed. “It’s no business of mine. I’m only passing through here, same as you. What you do here and how you earn your money is your business. As is mine.” 

Arthur scoffed, suddenly amused, did this woman just tease me?

He went to speak again before another voice interrupted them, “Arthur! Get over here!” Called Hosea. He pointed a finger at Kate as to say this isn’t over and walked away. 

Amused with herself, Kate grabbed an apple and sat down against a tree. Watching the sun set as she waited for the cover of night so the two men could pull off their heist. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate woke suddenly to the sound of horses moving. She quickly got up and looked in the direction of the ranch. Sure enough the stage coach was steadily moving down the path away from its place in the barn. She quickly mounted her horse and trotted over to them. 

“Nice work! Follow me back to Emerald Ranch and try to keep it in one piece.” She called up to Hosea who was driving the coach. With that she clicked her tongue and took off ahead of the coach at a steady but quick pace. Not wanting to get themselves caught. 

Before Hosea could crack the reins he looked to Arthur as he was about to get in the coach, “you ride ahead with her. I got this.” 

Arthur looked confused, “why wouldn’t I ride with you? The horses will follow.” 

Now Hosea was giving him an amused look, “I heard you with her earlier.” 

“And?” The cowboy replied slightly annoyed. 

“You’ve never fumbled our cover story so bad!” He quipped, “it was like listening to a child tell it!” 

Arthur shook his head, “now you’re playin’ match maker old man?” He teased, trying to hide his smile.   

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to go talk to her son."

Without another word Arthur nodded and dismounted the coach, getting into the saddle and riding off to catch up to Kate.

[starangeell]

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[pryce0]

Am I a Bad Man? - Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader (Part 2)

gif by: @haveyouseengavin

word count; 1,718

Masterlist: here

First Part: here

tag: @dontbethatguy20

————————

Arthur didn’t come back for a good 2 days, and with every minute that passed by that he didn’t return, you felt worse and worse.You made the effort to leave camp in an attempt to find him, but it was no use; there were 3 states he could’ve possibly been in and it would take weeks to search every single one. You confided in Hosea, not with every detail because you KNOW Arthur is self conscious and wouldn’t want his business to be talked about by everyone. “Well, you did hurt his feelings, dear.” Hosea murmured, a book in his hands as he sits on an empty crate at an empty table. You can’t help but think, ‘Arthur would be sitting here with him if I didn’t drive him out.’

You nod and nervously pick at the dead skin around your thumbnail, glancing at him and around the camp. “I know, I‘ve been lookin’ for him, I even shouted for him to stop but..” You trail off as shame floods your senses again. You know it was so very wrong to take it out on him; especially when you know he’s insecure about what you said. Arthur had written countless times in his journal about being a bad man, has confided in you about being a horrible person, yet you still ended up shouting at him.

The events that transpired replay in your head, over and over and over.

“Yeah, go fucking do your job like the goddamn mutt you are, Morgan. Go kill for him, go torture for Dutch. Live up to your reputation, why don’t you?? Oh, it isn’t even a fucking reputation by this point, it’s the truth.”

There’s nothing but the distant sound of the gang celebrating after your piercing sentence. Arthur’s jaw is dropped, looking back at you with such betrayal. Your heart drops to your stomach as you process everything you just said. Cold panic floods your veins as you watch him stutter in pure shock and anger. “Fuck, Arthur, I-“

“Don’t.”

Arthur’s expression tore you apart on the spot, and even now you feel sick thinking about how betrayed he looked. You were the one person he trusted to make him feel like he was normal, like he wasn’t the person he is, the man who collects debts, the man who kills for money, the man who steals from anyone who needs stealin’— despite Dutch’s sayings that he doesn’t even follow. Arthur trusted you and you threw that confidence away like it was nothing, with only a few sentences.

“He will come back,” Hosea says quietly, closing his book and he keeps his eyes trained on you. Like he’s searching for your emotions; he finds your regret, your remorse, your panic. You feel the dark swirling feeling of all of this combined. “I need him.. to come back.” You wanted to stop at ‘I need him’ but you know it wasn’t appropriate right now; this isn’t about you, it’s about your words and how Arthur was affected. You didn’t want to take anything more away from him.

Hosea sighs quietly and glances around, standing up from the crate and placing his hands on the table in front of him. He leans towards you with a quiet voice, getting the memo you want to keep this on the down-low. “Look, why don’t you take a ride, or go hunt? Keep yourself preoccupied?” He questions you, pushing his sleeve back where it was supposed to be as it was slowly shifting down his arm. “Trust me, Dutch and I have raised that boy since he was a teenager. He’ll come back real soon.” Hosea goes to leave the table but he turns to me with a pause, his voice going soft. “You mean a lot to him, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud. Sort this out with him, yeah?”

You pause and nod, staring at Hosea as he coughs into his fist, grabbing his book and walking off to his tent. You take a deep breath before walking off to your own and kneeling down, grabbing one of the handles to your weapons trunk from under your bed. You drag it out with some resistance, considering it’s been sitting and sinking into the dirt below for a couple of weeks now. You flip open the tab and open it up, grabbing one of your shorter rifles; most of your stuff is on your horse, but you have a lucky rifle. Maybe you’ll catch something good, considering you lost something good. You sling the weapon over your shoulder and walk over to your horse, putting your foot in the stirrup and grunting as you get onto the saddle. You grab the reins and quietly urge your horse to start moving, going down the path from camp, and you don’t know where you want to go. Just anywhere but here.

—————————

You find yourself in a woodsy area, about 30ish minutes away from camp. You sigh and loosely wrap the reins of your horse around a low branch. You begin to softly talk to your horse like always, grabbing an apple out of the satchel that is attached to your saddle. “Here you go, girl. Eat up.” You murmur, and your horse graciously takes the apple between her teeth and crunches down on it. You’re silent for a moment before laughing humorlessly, petting the side of her neck, feeling her fur underneath your fingers. “I really messed up, huh, girl? I haven’t seen him in a few days, now..” Your horse neighs in nearly an annoyed tone, digging at the ground with her hoove. You let out another, yet quieter laugh before speaking again. “Yeah, I know. You’re mad at me, too. My apples don’t compare to the ones he manages to get his hands on, hm? Yeah, don’t think I don’t see him sneakin’ snacks to you, girl. I see it.”

You inhale deeply and you get a whiff of smoke nearby, which means someone is definitely camping near here. You grunt under your breath as that means this isn’t really the greatest place to be hunting. You turn to look and to your surprise, the camp isn’t too far away; and there’s a mighty familiar horse tied to a tree nearby.

It’s Arthur’s horse.

Your eyes light up and your heart skips a beat; do you approach? Do you give him space? Before you can second guess yourself, you end up approaching the camp, glancing around nervously. “..Arthur?” You call out just loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear you. At first, you’re met with the silence of the night, besides the occasional bug sound. Is he not here?

“Arthur?” You call out just a bit louder, and immediately a man steps out from the other side of the horse; and it’s him.

He looks conflicted, his eyebrows furrowed together, his lower lip slightly puckering out like it always does when he is feeling annoyed. You pause and you stare at him for a moment before opening your lips. However, nothing comes out within the first few seconds. What is there to say? How do you apologize for the things you’ve said?

“..I want to apologize, Arthur. Genuinely apologize. Can you please listen to me?” You plead quietly as you slowly step towards him. He raises his hands and then lowers them with a bewildered expression. “How did you find me?” He asks, straight to the point. You pick at the skin on your thumbnail again. “By accident,” You answer honestly. “Hosea told me to go hunt while I waited for you to return back to camp.”

You quietly sigh and motioned to the campfire. “Can we sit? I.. I want to have a conversation.”

Arthur presses his lips together, trying to hold it together. He decides to comply silently, taking his seat on his bedroll. You sit next to him, although there’s a reasonable distance between you and him.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” You begin, looking at him, whose eyes are staring straight into the campfire before you two. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I want you to know that I didn’t mean anything I said. I was havin’ a terrible day; and that excuses nothin’ I said. I don’t think you’re a mutt, or Dutch’s little pet. You aren’t a bad ma-“

“Don’t you even go there because we both know damn well I am.” Arthur interrupts you quietly, avoiding all eye contact. Your eyes furrow as he speaks, his tone firm yet nearly shaken. Arthur picks grass and dirt off his pants as he waits for you to continue, even hiding his face with his hat. “I will go there because you aren’t that bad man. You’ve done so much good, you take care of the people you love. You are a loyal man, someone who is willing to provide, no matter the circumstances.” You murmur, inching closer to him. Your heart picks up a bit as all you want to do is kiss him until he forgets everything, and you’ve wanted to do that for so long. If you had said this to anyone else, you wouldn’t have made such an effort to find him at first. Arthur glances at you and then he looks away, but he doesn’t move away. That’s a good start. “I’ve done terrible things too, darlin’.” He whispers in an attempt to mask his emotions, but you know him too well. You lean closer and cup his cheek, guiding his face to look at you. You make eye contact with Arthur and your soft, loving eyes meet his guilty and solemn ones. “Your actions do not define you. You have never been a terrible man to me, Arthur.”

He swallows his spit, Adam's apple jumping in his throat. “Y.. You mean that?”

You nod with a soft smile. “If you were the bad man you think you are, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be talking to you like this, I don’t talk to anyone else the way I talk to you, sir.”

Arthur doesn’t exactly smile, but you can see his expression lift ever so slightly. Your thumb brushes against his cheek as you whisper, “You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Mister Morgan.”

[mikeybutnotway]

THE WORLD OF DANGER DAYS IS A MODERN 1800S AMERICAN FRONTIER RRRRRAJHHHGHGGG ‼️‼️‼️

[cherriiiepiee]

(most of a test than anything ^_^) !!! i put no effort into this whatsoever !

FLUFF, NO SMUT !!!

arthur morgan x reader ! (no gender <3)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You applied the ice pack on Arthur's bruised eye, eliciting a groan of discomfort from him, “I said I was sorry!—“ Arthur began before you interrupted him. “shut it, Morgan.” You groaned in annoyance, the urge to slap him in his face grew. Arthur appeared somewhat annoyed by the fact that you interrupted his apology, as he attempted to offer you one before you rebuked him.

Despite his irritation, Arthur tried his best to maintain a small smile, although it turned out looking more amusing than endearing. You couldn't contain yourself and suppressed a giggle that was eager to erupt from your lips. Finally, you leaned close and kissed Arthur's stubble, eliciting a blush from him.

“Dummy.”

—

again, this was just a test !!! :3 love yaa 💗💗

[alicevanderlinde]

Echos of Love

TW: Torture, Blood, Gore, Mutilation, Amputation, mentions of death, starvation, dehydration- the works. If you're easily triggered by any of those things above, I highly suggest you don't read this.

Additional tags: Angst, Love, Emotional (I cried while writing this) Dark, Tragedy, Hurt, Pain, Recovery, mentions of pregnancy, Pregnancy. There's more I probably should add but my two brain cells have worked hard on this and I think they've reach max capacity sooo... Yeah.

I left this off on a small cliffhanger but I do have intentions of finishing it but also I was thinking about writing about the events leading up to this, so if you're interested please let me know.

Word count: 7064

Anyway with that, let's get into it. Hopefully you enjoy!

Alice's body jerks as the sensation of ice-cold water cascades over her, silencing her gasp with a cloth gag. Her eyes snap open, momentarily startled by the unexpectedness of the situation before quickly shutting again, wincing at the harsh brightness that intensifies her throbbing headache. The muscles in her arms ache, pleading for relief under the weight that agonizingly strains them. Judging by the relentless pain coursing through her, she surmises that she has been suspended like this for a significant amount of time.

Summoning all her strength, Alice forces her eyes open once more, only to find three men standing before her. While two of them remain unfamiliar, the man in the middle is unmistakably Colm O'Driscoll, her father's long-time rival. Alice scolds herself internally for allowing herself to be apprehended, despite her valiant attempts to elude them. She had resorted to violence, even inflicting harm upon some of them, but it all proved to be in vain.

In contrast to his associates, Colm appears immaculate, save for his unkempt, graying hair. Dressed in a white suit and matching hat, he exudes a certain elegance that clashes with the rough appearance of his companions. He commands the others to depart, and they promptly comply, leaving Alice alone with him.

"I must say, Miss Van Der Linde, or should I say Mrs. Morgan, I am delighted that you could join us." Colm remarks, his tone dripping with an unsettling satisfaction.

Alice mumbles something unintelligible, her words muffled by the gag. Frustration pushes her to exhale forcefully through her nose, eliciting a pleased chuckle from the well-dressed man.

"You see, my dear, it is quite rude to speak with your mouth full." He taunts with a touch of amusement, his grimy fingers tenderly tracing her cheek. Alice instinctively pulls her face away, desperate to escape his nauseating touch, but her bound position restricts any significant movement.

"I thought your daddy would've taught you better by now." Colm jests, his fingers now slowly exploring the contours of her jawline and descending towards her exposed chest to the small swell of her belly.

As Colm's fingers trace her small baby bump, she shudders, desperately trying to pull away, but the unforgiving chains that bind her keep her in place. She feels dwarfed and helpless, like a mouse trapped in a lion's den.

Tears stream down her face, uncertainty gnawing at her as she wonders if Dutch, her father, or Arthur, her lover, even know where she is. She had never meant to run off like she did, but the overwhelming influx of pregnancy hormones and anger had driven her away from the safety of the camp. Surely, they would've figured something was wrong by now, it's been weeks.

"Now, I demand answers, and you will provide them to me," Colm states, pausing momentarily to remove her gag. "If not, I will be compelled to do something I would rather not."

Her glare is defiant, but she remains silent.

He retrieves a cattle brand from the glowing embers of the fireplace, brandishing it dangerously close to her face, the intense heat radiating towards her. She instinctively closes her eyes, exhaling a breath she had unknowingly been holding.

"I won't tell you a damn thing." She declares with unwavering confidence, despite the fear coursing through her veins.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Colm clicks his tongue disapprovingly. The brand makes contact with her ribcage, causing her to scream in agony as she tries to lurch forward. Her hands, securely tied above her head, prevent any significant movement, intensifying the numbing pain that had plagued her arms for what felt like an eternity.

Her stomach churns, threatening to reject whatever little contents it holds as the stench of seared flesh lingers in the air. Struggling to catch her breath, every gasp a reminder of the torment, her cries transform into mocking, humorless chuckles.

"Go to hell." she croaks, her voice dry and hoarse from dehydration. Her head hangs low, her body growing weary from weeks of relentless torture. Every inch of her being throbs with excruciating pain, no part of her spared from these unspeakable acts.

"Now, I've instructed my boys to go easy on you because of your condition, but my patience is wearing thin, and your time is running out." he sneers.

Lifting her sunken head, she meets his gaze with a hollow chuckle. How could he possibly consider daily beatings as a lenient treatment? "You can't kill me... I'm too valuable, and we both know it."

"Don't flatter yourself, Alice. You're just as disposable as your mother was." he says, his voice laced with a sinister chuckle, aware of the pain those words cause her.

Her face twitches with sadness, the mention of her mother striking a devastating chord within her.

"You remember that, don't you? The way her head rolled on the ground after I severed it." he cruelly recalls.

Of course, she remembers. She was forced to witness the horrifying act as he took her mother's life. Her mother's agonized cries still echo in her mind to this very day.

As if on cue, the two men from before enter the room, brandishing the very axe used in her mother's brutal demise. The blade, still stained with her mother's blood after all these years, glistens menacingly.

She closes her eyes, desperately trying to transport her mind to a different place, but Colm grabs her chin with an iron grip, forcing her to confront the horrifying reality before her.

"Bring her down." Colm demands to his men, and they swiftly comply, handing the axe to Colm before approaching her and releasing the chains that had bound her wrists.

She collapses to the ground, her legs tingling painfully from being suspended for what feels like an eternity. Before she can gather enough strength to lift herself, the men forcefully drag her to the coffee table, compelling her to extend her right arm onto its surface. She resists, but his henchmen quickly remind her of her defiance by pressing a knife against her throat, while another firmly holds her arm in place.

Colm stoops down, examining the exquisite wedding ring on her finger-a symbol of the love Arthur had bestowed upon her-while the axe remains slung over his shoulder.

"Morgan spared no expense, did he?" he remarks, before straightening himself up and bringing the axe down with a brutal force that severs her arm right at the crook of her elbow. A blood-curdling scream escapes her lips, so loud and chilling that she can hardly believe it emanates from her own lungs. Through tears clouding her vision, she witnesses the vivid crimson spurt from the wound.

She slumps to the ground, clutching her severed arm, tears streaming uncontrollably as the pulsating pain resonates with each beat of her heart. All she yearns for is to be in Arthur's comforting embrace, where he would cradle her and whisper reassurances, promising that everything will be alright. However, the harsh truth sinks in-she is all alone, bleeding out.

Lost in her anguish, she fails to realize that Colm and his men have abandoned her, perhaps assuming she poses no threat or could easily escape.

With every passing second, her strength wanes, and she desperately scans the room for something to stem the bleeding, only to find nothing. Just as hope begins to fade, her gaze lands on the glowing embers in the fireplace.

Tears streaming anew, she shakes her head in disbelief. "Oh God, please, no!" she pathetically whispers, her throat raw and sore from her agonizing screams.

Summoning every ounce of strength, she painstakingly drags herself along the floor, reaching the fireplace. With great effort, she pulls herself up the small step, cautiously bringing her severed limb closer to the flickering flames. Through whimpers of pain, she feels the warmth searing the agonizing spot. Deep down, she knows that unless she cauterizes the wound now, death will be inevitable. Bracing herself, she presses what remains of her arm directly into the scorching flames, releasing a gut-wrenching scream as searing agony engulfs her.

She senses the blood curdling under the intense heat, every flicker of the flame reverberating through her entire being.

With sheer determination, she grits her teeth and forces herself to maintain her severed arm in place, emitting pitiful cries as the wound sears shut under the scorching flames. A mixture of relief and anguish washes over her when she finally deems it sufficiently cauterized. Slowly, she withdraws what remains of her arm, gasping for precious air as she teeters on the edge of consciousness.

-

The gang's tireless search for Alice has yielded no results, except for the sight of her trusted steed abandoned on the roadside, alongside her discarded weapons. The absence of any clue regarding her whereabouts, the unknown identity of her captors, and the uncertainty of her survival all mount with each passing day.

Over a month has elapsed, and the flickering flame of hope, once burning bright, now wavers perilously close to extinction.

Dutch bears the weight of guilt more heavily than the other members, haunted by the memory of pushing Alice away in a fit of rage when she dared to voice her dissent about their outlaw lives. She never revealed the reasons behind her stance, yet her resolve was unmistakable-leaving Dutch tormented with regret.

Arthur, returning from a mission assigned by Dutch, remained blissfully unaware of his wife's absence until a week had passed. Eagerly anticipating Alice's customary warm welcome upon his return home, he was instead met with somber faces and evasive gazes from his fellow gang members. In that moment, the sinking feeling of something being terribly amiss settled deep within him, amplifying when John urged him to speak with Dutch.

Reluctantly, Dutch disclosed the devastating news to Arthur, who, despite his exhaustion, roused himself and ventured once again into the unforgiving wilderness, embarking on a desperate quest to find his beloved.

Arthur, Dutch, John, Javier, Charles, and Kieran persistently continue their nomadic search for Alice, yet every day seems to lead them to another disheartening dead end. Assailed by sleepless nights, Arthur rises at dawn, unable to find solace in more than an hour of rest at a time, acutely aware of Alice's absence and longing for her comforting presence. He, in turn, rouses his weary comrades, commencing their search before the sun truly graces the sky.

Weeks turn into an agonizing blur of fruitless endeavors, leaving the men utterly fatigued. While their shared worry is palpable, hope has relinquished its grip on all but Arthur. His heart relentlessly yearns for his love, shattering a little more each day in her absence.

"Arthur, my boy, I understand your anguish, but we must return." Dutch's fatherly tone contends as Arthur finally succumbs to the overwhelming weight of exhaustion.

"She's out there somewhere, Dutch... We cannot abandon the search now." Arthur pleads desperately, his entreaty conveying the depth of his desperation.

"We will take two days to rest and regroup. We're going to find her, son." Dutch states firmly giving Arthur's shoulder an reassuring squeeze.

As Arthur prepares to protest, his gaze traverses the countenances of his comrades, their visages mirroring the toll their relentless quest has taken. Their exhaustion is unmistakable.

Arthur's thoughts consume him, separating him from the company of his fellow men as they journey back to camp. Haunted by the ghosts of Eliza and Issac, his mind is plagued by the agonizing memories of when he failed his own family. Fear grips him tightly, leaving him to dread the possibility that Alice will too become nothing more than a specter, leaving behind a trail of haunting recollections of their once cherished moments. Every stolen glance, every tender kiss, every loving embrace, and every passionate night of affection will be transformed into memories too painful for him to bear. Though these moments were filled with happiness, they now serve as cruel reminders of his own shortcomings.

Lost in his own inner turmoil, Arthur fails to notice the men have moved ahead, drawing nearer to the familiar refuge of the camp, hidden within the embrace of nature's lush thickets. The weight of the world seems to collapse upon him, draining the very life from within. His heart throbs with an anguish he could never have conceived, not even when Mary had shattered his heart.

Silence engulfs the world around him, depriving him of the once beautiful songs of nature. The vibrant hues that once charmed his eyes and mingled to create breathtaking sights are now invisible to his desolate gaze. Lost and trapped within the depths of this darkened pit of despair, Arthur finds himself unable to locate the way out, sinking deeper into the abyss.

The piercing shriek of a woman from the gang shatters Arthur's thoughts, snapping him into action. Urging Boadicea into a fierce sprint, he leaves the other men trailing behind in a swirling cloud of dust.

As Arthur reaches the scene, a cluster of women obscures his view, shielding him from something he is unsure if he is prepared to witness. Dismounting with remarkable speed, he moves through the gathering, his heart racing with desperate hope for answers.

Navigating through the crowd, a glimmer catches the corner of his eye, drawing his attention. And then he sees it: her arm, severed and coated in a crimson sheen of blood. His gaze fixates on the ring he had once given to her, still adorning her finger - A promise of a better future. It serves as a grim message delivered to the gang, a haunting message directed squarely at him.

A roar of anguish rumbles from Arthur's core as he crumbles to his knees. In that moment, all the pent-up emotions that had been simmering within him surge forth, overwhelming him. The hope he had clung to for finding her alive starts to slip away, leaving only a void of despair.

The men wade through the scene, their gaze fixated on the gruesome message laid bare before them. Dutch's eyes meet those of his gang members, seeing the distraught in their eyes, it break him. They yearn for his charismatic words of guidance and inspiration, but in this moment, his well of eloquence runs dry. He turns his back on the gang, just when they need him the most.

A heavy silence settles upon the group, broken only by the sound of shared sobs intertwining with Arthur's anguish. In this harrowing moment, every untamed soul within the gang is subdued, their spirits momentarily quelled by the weight of grief.

-

Alice stirs, awoken by the sharp pang of pain coursing through her weary and battered body. Trembling, she musters the strength to rise from the unforgiving ground, her every movement a testament to the weight of her abuse and the loss of her own precious blood. Leaning against the wall for support, she feels its steadfast presence providing a meager solace.

A deep breath steadies her as she observes her now cauterized arm, the wound still fresh and angry, radiating heat. The acrid scent of seared flesh lingers in the air, intensifying the nauseating feeling swirling within her gut.

Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, Alice's left hand begins tracing gentle circles on her belly. Throughout her cruel captivity, she has watched her belly slowly swell, a constant reminder of her entrapment. Bound and without respite, she has longed for the chance to touch and connect with the life growing inside her, a torment in itself.

Yet, a sense of empowerment surges within her as she realizes that this growing life within her has endured every ounce of suffering the O'Driscolls inflicted upon her. Against all odds, this child has clung to her, bringing a flicker of hope amidst the depths of her nightmares. Tears well up as laughter escapes her lips, envisioning the resilience and stubbornness inherited from his father. From the moment she discovered her pregnancy, she knew deep within that she would be blessed with a son.

And then, in that fleeting moment, she feels it-the delicate flutter of a tiny kick dancing at the tips of her fingers.

A loving smile graces her chapped lips as tears of joy spill from her eyes. "We're going to make it, Jr." she murmurs tenderly, embracing the glimmer of faith in their shared survival.

Grasping the mantle of the fireplace with a whimper, she hauls herself up, the soreness crashing over her body in relentless waves. Every fiber of her being protests, aching with the weight of agony she endures. Yet, fueled by an unwavering determination for her son and Arthur, she persists, forging ahead despite the torment.

With a sense of haste, she rummages through drawers, desperately searching for anything to cover her exposed flesh. Finally, she uncovers a worn shirt, its size engulfing her form, but she lacks alternatives and time is of the essence. Slipping it on, she finds solace in the makeshift garment, even if it embodies the appearance of a nightgown. Carefully, she knots the sleeve at the site of her missing arm, a task made all the more difficult without the aid of her right limb.

The longing for freedom tugs relentlessly at her heartstrings. The thought of breathing in the fresh air and feeling the comforting warmth upon her skin consumes her thoughts. As her fingers brush against the cold metal of the door handle, a gentle yet distinct kick in her belly redirects her attention, drawing her focus to the hushed voices of the O'Driscolls looming just beyond.

She scolds herself for allowing her desires to cloud her judgment, realizing the potential dangers that lie beyond the walls that confine her.

Realizing that her initial plan of simply walking out of this place is highly impractical, she starts to formulate a new, more cautious strategy. Being surrounded by O'Driscolls in their territory, she knows she must proceed with extreme caution to ensure her safe return home.

Without a clear idea of her location or the distance to camp, she understands the importance of careful planning and execution to navigate her way back.

She finds a fire poker and arms herself, preparing for whatever may lie ahead. She carefully assesses her surroundings before quietly making her way through a window, mindful of her limited mobility caused by the absence of her right arm. In a moment of misstep, she accidentally hits her seared stump against the window frame, suppressing a cry of pain and biting her lip to mask it. Instinctively she adjusts her position to protect her pregnant belly from any harm, landing on her side directly on her nub.

Lying face down in the dirt, she takes a moment to compose herself, determined to remain as inconspicuous as possible, breathing softly so as not to draw attention to herself.

She resents her own weakness, engulfed in feelings of self-pity as she becomes acutely aware of her helplessness in this moment. Overwhelmed by defeat and fury, she unleashes her frustration by forcefully punching the ground, silently weeping as the unrelenting pain taunts her body.

Upon hearing approaching footsteps, she swiftly hoists herself up from the ground, seeking immediate cover behind a crate. Her grip on the fire poker tightens so intensely that her pale skin turns even whiter.

For a brief moment, she closes her eyes, fully cognizant of the potential consequences her next move may bring. Her ears strain to catch the distinct crunch of gravel as the man's boots draw closer, his spurs audaciously jingling, taunting her senses.

As the man notices the open window, cursing under his breath, he becomes aware of the fact that she must be somewhere out here. He begins to open his mouth, likely to alert his comrades, but before he can utter a word, Alice bursts out of her hiding place, consumed by an unhinged rage. With a swift and brutal strike, she delivers a devastating blow to his head, splitting his skull open, causing his eye to violently dislodge from its socket.

He collapses to the ground lifelessly, already gone before his body hits the earth like a sack of potatoes. Alice, consumed by a red haze of rage, continues mercilessly attacking his lifeless form with the fire poker. With each crushing blow, his head becomes an unrecognizable mess of blood, skull fragments, and brain matter.

Gasping for breath, she fights to steady herself, battling the encroaching dizziness as she surveys her surroundings. Her eyes lock onto the horses tethered a few yards away from the entrance of the dilapidated cabin, but to her dismay, she realizes that four O'Driscolls are standing alongside them.

Her trembling hand retrieves the revolver from the fallen man's gunbelt, attempting to aim it at one of the O'Driscolls. But the horrific shaking in her hand, coupled with the fact that her dominant arm had been severed, makes it almost impossible to steady her aim.

In a desperate attempt to assert herself, she fires a warning shot into the air, hoping to catch their attention and draw them towards her location. Her heart pounding, she swiftly heads towards the woods, her plan to lead them away so she can seize one of the horses and embark into the unknown wilderness.

Moving with a lightness in her step, she cautiously observes the O'Driscolls from a safe distance as they cautiously approach their fallen comrade. Desperation fueling her movements, she sprints towards the horses, pushing against her body's desperate plea for rest.

With a swift motion, she mounts the closest horse, urgently digging her heel into its side, urging it into a full gallop. Struggling to control the horse with her remaining hand, she dreads the prospect of having to relearn everything. However, for now, such thoughts must be set aside. The sweet taste of freedom is tantalizingly close, and she is determined to grasp it.

She desperately scans her surroundings, her line of sight flickering in search of any clue about her location. Determined to focus on the journey and the destination rather than the pulsating pain at the end of her severed arm, she tries to ignore the agonizing throb that intensifies with each powerful stride of the horse. However, her hopes are dashed as her gaze is met only with the vastness of untouched nature stretching along the road. Normally, she would relish these moments, savoring the sights of new places at her own leisure. But now, her mind is consumed with finding her family.

Just as despair begins to creep in, her eyes catch sight of a weathered road sign, its carved wooden surface revealing the word "Annesburg." Relief washes over her, knowing that she has found what she sought. However, a heavy sense of trepidation settles in her heart. Recalling from memory, she realizes that Annesburg is a challenging two and a half days' ride from her current location, and that's without any breaks. Already drained by exhaustion, dehydration, and malnutrition, the thought of enduring such a grueling journey fills her with apprehension. She knows she must remain vigilant, constantly watchful for any danger lurking in the shadows.

Adding to her worries, she has no idea how to navigate her way from Annesburg to Horseshoe Overlook. The mental image of the map Arthur had gifted her is now nothing but a blurry recollection, leaving her feeling disoriented and lost.

-

Arthur finds solace within the confines of his tent, purposefully keeping the cloth flaps closed to shield himself from the outside world. Tears flow freely down his face, grief consuming him like never before. Clutched tightly in his hands, he holds onto the dress she wore on that fateful day, the day she became his.

As his fingers delicately trace the intricate designs woven into the soft fabric, memories flood his mind. He recalls how she transformed into a vision of ethereal beauty, her hair cascading in lustrous black curls, dancing freely in the wind. Accentuating her curves, a dress Arthur bought embraced her figure flawlessly. In that moment, she seemed otherworldly, a goddess worthy of adoration.

Arthur is forever captivated by the sparkle in her emerald green eyes, which shone with the warmth of the setting sun. Those eyes, filled with unconditional love and unspoken promises, are etched in his memory, an everlasting testament to their unbreakable bond.

He had always felt unworthy of her affection, constantly believing that she was far too good for him. She possessed an innate goodness, a selflessness that pushed her to help everyone within the gang and extend her helping hand to strangers in need. She would even put herself in harm's way to protect those she held dear. It was through these selfless acts that he had uncovered the depth of her feelings for him, as well as his own for her.

Their hidden emotions were finally revealed during a harrowing encounter with Bounty Hunters on a job. Surrounded and outgunned, fear may have gripped her heart, but her stoic facade remained unyielding. In the face of danger, her unwavering strength ignited a fire within Arthur, inspiring him to fight tooth and nail to escape the perilous situation they found themselves in...

As they cautiously made their way back to safety, Alice couldn't shake off the unease that lingered in her gut. She expressed her worry to Arthur, a faint whisper hinting that they were still being watched. Yet, her concerns were swiftly dismissed, her nervousness brushed aside as baseless fears. Arthur assured her that there was nothing to be concerned about, oblivious to the imminent danger.

But Alice's instincts proved sharper than his awareness. In an instant, she spotted the glint of a sniper's scope, long before Arthur even registered its presence. Time slowed as she valiantly threw herself in front of him, taking the bullet intended for his heart. It was a kaleidoscope of surrealism as a mist of crimson paint splattered the air, staining his face, forever etching the price she had paid for his safety. They narrowly escaped the ambush, and Arthur emerged unscathed, shielded by Alice's selflessness.

Her body bore the consequences of her heroic act, hanging on to the last remnants of consciousness. The following day, as she awoke from her slumber, Arthur hovered nearby, a mixture of anger and regret clouding his expression. He unleashed a torrent of emotions, blaming her for her recklessness, unable to comprehend why she had thrown herself into harm's way to save him. Initially, he allowed no room for her to respond, cutting her off at every attempt. But then, something within her snapped, and her voice rose defiantly, declaring, "I did it because I am in love with you!"

As her words hung in the air, Arthur fell silent, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck. He yearned to protest, list all the reasons why she should not love him, highlighting scars and mistakes that marred his being. Yet, before he could utter a single word, she took advantage of his slightly agape mouth, meeting his lips with her own in a tender, passionate moment. In that unexpected kiss, he realized the truth - that those stolen glances, those blushes, and that sweet, innocent smile she reserved for him were all a reflection of her love. A love that accepted him for who he was, flaws and all, warming even the coldest reaches of his heart.

His lips quivered with a bittersweet smile as he recalled the extraordinary transformation that unfolded from that fateful day. A love story that once seemed unimaginable had unfolded before his eyes.

Their first time together was a tapestry of vulnerability and tenderness. He couldn't help but notice the scar on her shoulder, a permanent reminder of the sacrifice she made for him. It haunted him, threatening to overshadow the beauty that lay before him in the dimly-lit hotel room they had sought refuge in. Overwhelmed by guilt, he turned away, fearing for her safety and the uncertain future they faced. But, in that moment, she reached out and gently took hold of his hand, her eyes speaking volumes.

Their stolen moments of affection, concealed from prying eyes and her overbearing father, burst forth after a night of drunken vulnerability. Craving each other's touch, they longed to break free from the confines of secrecy. And, fueled by their profound connection, she summoned the courage to defy the disapproval of Dutch, choosing to stand by Arthur and declare her love.

The day he proposed to her was a moment suspended in a world beyond their troubles. Overwhelmed with stress from Dutch's interference in their relationship and her own fears of Arthur pulling away, she had been carrying a heavy burden that week.

Unbeknownst to her, Arthur's distant behavior was not due to Dutch but rather his own struggle to find the perfect way to propose. His heart ached with memories of Mary Linton rejecting his marriage proposal, her father's disapproval leaving him feeling unworthy. That night, as the gang gathered around the comforting glow of the campfire, Arthur felt a surge of determination.

Taking her trembling hand, he admitted his regrets for the distance between them and revealed his intention to make amends. With a tender sincerity, he knelt down before her, offering a ring he had saved for months. The emotions consumed him, causing him to deviate from the rehearsed poem he had written. Instead, his heartfelt confession of love flowed effortlessly from his lips, surpassing his anticipation.

The joyous reaction she unleashed as he slipped the ring onto her finger remains etched in his memory. The exhilarating sound of her excited squeal reverberated through his mind, propelling him to rise and meet her lips with an overwhelming surge of affection.

And on the day they joined in matrimony, a month before her eventual disappearance, everything fell into place with a sense of urgency and secrecy. With the assistance of his loyal gang members, Arthur orchestrated a spontaneous celebration, transforming the camp into a romantic haven. John, understanding the importance of the day, took Alice into town to keep her occupied.

Little did Alice know, as she went about her day, that her own secret was about to be revealed. Seeking answers for occasional sickness, she had visited a doctor who confirmed the miracle growing within her womb-an unexpected pregnancy already one month along. Overwhelmed with worry that Arthur might abandon her, she confided in John, who reassured her that Arthur would embrace this second chance for family.

As the day wore on, anticipation built within Alice. John brought her back to camp, her eyes widening in astonishment and disbelief at the sight before her. A trail of delicate rose petals guided her, until she found Dutch standing proudly, his arm outstretched to escort his daughter down the makeshift aisle. Tears brimmed in Dutch's eyes, a mixture of joy and bittersweet emotions as he fulfilled his role.

Arthur, having taken meticulous care to prepare himself, stood awaiting his bride. He had meticulously groomed himself, receiving a fresh haircut and trimming his beard to a handsome 5 o'clock shadow. He even had a suit tailored for the occasion. Alice's heart swelled with love and admiration as she took in his dashing appearance.

To set the perfect ambiance, Javier strummed his guitar, serenading the couple with heartfelt songs of love. The melodies filled the air, enhancing the profound significance of the moment.

The kiss they shared in that poignant moment, right after sealing their vows, transcended any previous display of affection. It was an electrifying connection that stirred their very souls and left an indelible mark on their lives.

Aware of the profound impact this news would have on their future, Alice made a conscious decision to keep her pregnancy a secret for the time being. She understood the responsibilities of Arthur's upcoming lengthy and perilous job, which would separate them for at least a week. Alice was determined not to distract him or inadvertently endanger him.

The entrance of the tent allows a stream of blinding light to infiltrate, momentarily obstructing Arthur's vision. Shielding his eyes with his arm, he discerns the silhouette of a familiar figure, John.

"Hey Arthur, how are you?" John's voice carries a blend of hesitancy and sorrow.

Arthur's mind is consumed with thoughts of Alice-how she's faring, or if she's even alive. "I'm... alright." he musters weakly, hardly convincing even himself.

"I know you miss her, Arthur. We all do." John offers empathetically.

"She ain't your wife." Arthur retorts defensively, unintentionally lashing out amidst a whirlwind of emotions. His frustration unwittingly directed at John.

"No, but she's like a little sister to me." John utters with a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the chair beside the cot. His eyes dart nervously, while he rhythmically taps his knees.

"John, I appreciate you checkin' in on me, but right now, I just want to be alone." Arthur confesses solemnly, yearning for solitude with only her presence.

"There is something I need to tell you... about Alice." John discloses, sensing Arthur's eagerness. However, an overwhelming hesitation freezes him, unsure if he should share the information.

John's continued silence exacerbates Arthur's sense of foreboding.

"What?" Arthur presses, observing the wheels turning in John's mind.

"I... It can wait. It ain't my place to tell." John says, shaking his head. He alone bears the knowledge of Alice's secret, the life growing within her, and the burden weighs heavily upon him. John acknowledges that Arthur deserves to know he will be a father once again, but he can hardly begin to fathom how Arthur will react. With the uncertainty surrounding Alice's well-being, adding news of her pregnancy to the mix would only deepen Arthur's anguish.

"What the hell do you mean it's not your place to tell me?!" Arthur stands tall, gripping John's shirt and forcibly lifting him from his seat. "What do you know about my wife?!"

"Arthur, you can't handle what I have to say!"

"Tell me, damn it!"

"I can't." John insists.

"You sure as hell can!"

"Arthur, please calm down."

"Just tell me! I can't stand not knowin' any more!"

"She's pregnant, Arthur!" John finally confesses. In that frozen moment, the world stands still. Arthur's grip on John's shirt loosens, causing John to stumble and collapse onto the ground.

Arthur's anxiety causes his chest to heave uncontrollably, his world crumbling around him with even greater intensity. Observing the flicker of unwavering determination within Arthur's piercing icy-blue eyes, John quickly rises and places a steadying hand on his chest.

"Arthur, you can't venture back out there." John pleads urgently.

"I won't waste another moment waitin'. I'm goin' to find her." Arthur declares resolutely, forcefully bypassing John and striding purposefully across the camp.

"Arthur, you ain't in the right state of mind. You need to rest." John implores, trailing closely behind.

"And sit idly while whoever has her inflicts more harm? There's no way in hell I'm stayin' here." Arthur retorts, his gaze fixed ahead as he forges onward, with John doggedly following in his wake.

"She wouldn't want you to sacrifice yourself, Arthur." John says, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Those words strike a raw nerve within Arthur, causing him to abruptly turn and stalk over to John. He halts inches away, leaning in close with a dangerous intensity. The scent of cigarette smoke lingers on Arthur's breath, a testament to his inner turmoil.

"How could you possibly know what the hell she would want?" Arthur growls icily, his fists clenched tightly by his side.

"What if something were to happen to you? What if you were to die? If she's still alive, it would devastate her."

"I can't bear not knowin' if she's alive or dead. And now, knowin' that my child is growin' inside of her, I won't rest until I find her, even if it means dyin' in the process."

"What if she returns and you're not here?"

"I failed her once already. I need to find her." Arthur asserts, his voice filled with anguish. "She's my entire world, John. The pain of not knowin' if she's safe is tearin' me apart."

"We don't have any leads on her whereabouts. We don't even know who has taken her. You know she would never forgive herself if anythin' were to happen to you. Alice is strong. She'll find her way back to us... But you have to stay. If you don't, you'll only end up gettin' yourself killed."

-

With each passing moment, the battle against her exhaustion becomes increasingly daunting. It has been over a day and a half since she escaped, and her body's desperate need for sleep grows harder and harder to ignore. Every second that ticks by serves as a testament to her unwavering strength and determination, pushing through the waves of pain that crash relentlessly against her weary form.

Her eyelids struggle to stay open, heavy with fatigue. A cacophony of growls erupts from her belly, a painful reminder of the hunger that gnaws at her from within, as if her insides are being devoured. The sight of water makes her mouth water uncontrollably, a relentless plea for respite from the unquenchable thirst that courses through her. Yet she soldiers on, fueled by an unyielding determination to reach home, to once again find solace in the embrace of Arthur's arms.

Lost in an unfamiliar landscape, she questions if she's even heading in the right direction. Everything blends together in an indistinguishable blur, creating a disorienting maze of uncertainty. She cannot even be certain if she is still among the living, though the excruciating pain she endures seems inconsistent with her imagination of the afterlife.

In an instant, her senses are blanked out, only to gradually return as she awakens on her back, sprawled out in the unforgiving embrace of the dirt road. Though she has fallen from her horse, the pain that courses through her body somehow feels distant, as if her senses have numbed in response to the impact.

A familiar warmth envelops the tightly wound sleeve that conceals the space where her arm used to be. Weary eyes trace the crimson stains that saturate the grimy fabric, a stark reminder that she is till alive as blood flows from her wound. She shuts her eyes, summoning every ounce of strength within her to rise from the ground, but all she manages is to shift onto her side, slowly dragging herself along the unforgiving road.

As she inches forward, a gradual seepage of blood permeates the threads of her shirt, each step reopening the raw, tender flesh beneath Colm's branded mark. The fabric clings to the jagged edges of her torn skin, amplifying the pain that accompanies this hellish journey.

-

John successfully persuaded Arthur to take a stroll along the outskirts of the camp, leaving behind a departed Dutch. The gang can't shake off the feeling that their unity is gradually unraveling, similar to the frayed fabric of a well-worn shirt.

The sight of Arthur in such a distraught state is an unfamiliar one for John. He's used to seeing Arthur hold his composure during even the most critical moments. However, something vital has been torn away from him, leaving him disoriented and incomplete, as if a part of himself is missing.

Meanwhile, Dutch has been absent since last night. He ventured into Valentine, seeking solace in a few drinks to clear his troubled mind. Unfortunately, the whiskey only amplifies his dark thoughts and intensifies his longing for his daughter. Ever since Alice's birth, Dutch had made a solemn vow to protect her at any cost.

Still teetering on the edge of intoxication, Dutch sets off, without a clear destination or purpose. He can't determine if his little girl is even alive anymore, which weighs heavily on his conscience. The loss of his daughter, coupled with witnessing the hardship inflicted upon her husband, reminds him of the tragic events surrounding Annabelle. At least, in Annabelle's case, Colm killed her swiftly, sparing Dutch prolonged uncertainty. In this instance, he finds himself caught in a similar torment.

Continuing down the road, Dutch estimates that he's roughly a mile away from camp. Consumed by his thoughts, he edges closer to succumbing to defeat when a sight catches his attention: his little girl, slowly dragging herself along the road in agony.

Dutch's heart both leaps with anticipation and sinks in despair. A trail of blood follows her, evidence of her desperate attempt to find her way home. Tears well up in his eyes as he dismounts his horse and rushes to Alice's side. The sight of her tortured state is gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. Her body is adorned in bruises, and her arm has been cruelly amputated. He already knew her arm was cut off thanks to the horrid message sent to them but seeing it first hand was something he wasn't ready for.

The phrase "My poor baby" escapes Dutch's trembling lips as he struggles to maintain composure. Alice gazes up, her pain-stricken face managing to muster a smile. Through labored breaths, she utters, "Daddy." The relief is palpable as she realizes that he has found her.

Without a moment's hesitation, Dutch scoops her up into his arms. Despite the weight loss she has endured, Alice still feels somewhat heavy in his arms.

"Don't worry, Alice. We're going to make it back home." Dutch reassures her, determination burning in his eyes. He sets off on foot, determined to carry her the entire mile back to camp. He knows that in her current weakened state, it's not safe for her to be on horseback.

Speaking softly, Alice's fragile voice breaks the silence. "Daddy... is Arthur alright?" Her words tug at Dutch's heart, but he masks his worry with reassuring strength.

"He's going to be just fine, sweetheart. Right now, our priority is getting you back home." Dutch responds, his voice filled with both love and conviction. With each step, he holds Alice closer to his chest, enveloping her in his familiar warmth.

A faint, weary smile forms on Alice's lips. She nods briefly, understanding the need to conserve her diminishing energy. Closing her eyes, she succumbs to the overpowering urge to sleep, finding solace in the thought that her father has found her and will keep her safe.

Author's note: I've been in a dark place so this fic got dragged down with with me. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I'm bad at this shit, I've also been procrastinating about posting this because like, I'm me and I'm fearful of putting this out there and people won't like this but here we are... Bye

[a-gal-with-taste]

High-Noon Heat (Oneshot)

Warnings: SFW. Chapter 2, pre-relationship, flirting, fluff, humor, romance, domestic-fluff, camp-interactions, mild AU (Micah's dead, because I say so), cook!Reader, John being an annoying little brother

Gift for @sweatandwoe ♡

It was high-noon, and even with the breeze, you could swear Arthur already looked more heated than Hell, with cheeks already reddening as he approached the stewpot you were bent over, fresh from another several-day excursion around the country. 

"Arthur."

"... Miss." 

There it was again - the start of your first name, before habit, courtesy, and just the barest hint of flusteredness entered his gruff tone, and he fell back onto a far-more respectful greeting than just your first name. 

"Been back for a hot minute, I'm sure you're famished," You say, smiling up as you glanced towards him. Noon-high caught the gold in his hair, bright enough that you had to resist the urge to squint. "Hope you've had smooth traveling, sure been gone awhile..." 

"Well, someone's gotta, ever since Micah..." One burly shoulder shrugged, half in nonchalance, and half in the direction of the cliff giving the Outlook its name. "I'd take Lenny, but kid's still shook-up, 'bout losing so many the last few months..." 

"I'm sorry," You say, softly. You didn't know those who came before.

The Callander boys were men of legends, apparently, and Jenny sounded like such a sweet girl - all gone long before you arrived. Perhaps it was the nature of things, but the first death you'd encountered among the camps-ranks was hardly even met with a subdued reaction. Some drank a bit more excessively, but there were a couple more jokes than mournful jeers... Mr. Van der Linde, however, had shut himself in his tent for the night after. 

You didn't quite know why, Mr Bell hadn't exactly been charming - in fact, your skin crawled at the memory of him - but you still kept your tone cautiously respectful, "I don't... I hope it's not a loss that's leaving you to suffer, since you take his job as well as your own?" 

"Suffer? Nah... tempted to thank God, if I'm honest. For ending his suffering, and ours." 

Pearson glanced up from the rabbit as your sudden, inappropriately-timed snort, unable to hold back the stern note in his reminder, "Not in the stew, Miss! Got enough seasoning in there already, don't need snot to go along with it!" 

"I know, Simon, I know!" The friendly-eye roll you gave was met with a scoff, but when you turn back to the main-muscle of the Van der Linde Gang, your cheeks heated under much more than the sun when you caught Arthur staring, watching you smile playfully with a peek of his own grin beneath the rim of his hat. 

A hat that lowered sharply as he ducked his head, suddenly finding the Overlook grass very fascinating, particularly as he scuffed it with his boots. 

"Well... I'm glad you seem to be enjoying the roads, Arthur. Seems like you're gone most the time..." 

"Not by choice, but we all gotta eat, gotta work... speaking of," He glanced back at you, cornflower-blue eyes meeting yours, before he again glanced away, fingers tapping a beat on his belt. "You uh, got any special requests for when I'm out on the trail?" 

You blinked, "Oh, I wouldn't want to take you from your work, Arthur-" 

"Top three-choices, Miss. Sound 'em off, I'll get 'em for you." A pause, before he added, a bit hastily. "Ain't no trouble... never is." 

Tongue prods the inside of your cheek for a moment, as you studied him, while he made his own studies with the outlining shrubbery of the camp. "... Turkey would be nice, good for hearts. If you come across rosemary, Hosea could also use some for his breathing," The old fool was sharp, and smarter than anyone else in the gang, but a fool nonetheless, acting like you couldn't hear him wheezing half-a-tent away... "Oh! Wild carrot too, it's good for the stew... plus Jackie could use the veggies." 

"And the kid was 'bout just begging me for a cocoa-bar... gonna feel lilttle betrayed about this one," Another small grin crossed his features, one you couldn't help but share as, stirring done with all the chopped herbs freshly-submerged, you reached for a tin-bowl. 

"Partners in crime, you and I are, Mister Morgan," You teased, filling up the bowl with a generous, hearty helping before passing it into his hand. The calloused he brushed against your fingers left tingles, but you managed to keep your voice light. "I won't tattle if you won't." 

"I'll be going to my grave in silence, Miss," He vowed, shoveling a dented spoon in to take a large chunk from the bowl - already half-empty by the time he takes his sentence, and you wonder if Arthur even swallows by the time he chugs the final portion of his bowl. 

"... 'M sorry," He said, sheepish under your wide-eye glare at his ravenous appetite, even though you're far from displeased. "Long ride and... good food. Gotta get it when you can." 

"Right... well, I'll be sure to have plenty for you when you get back," You promised him standing up while brushing off your hands on your apron, before holding one out to him with a smile, warm as the noon-high sun above. "Well, happy travels, Arthur. Be safe." 

A beat passes, before, once more, your skin tingles pleasantly with the feel of warm callouses brushing along your skin. The handshake Arthur gives is only one good, hearty pump between you - but while the man had muscles that could no-doubt crush you in an instant, the grip around your hand was so tenderly gentle, that it almost made you melt... 

And then he had to speak - low, and voice husked enough that you very-nearly turned into a puddle, "'course I will, Miss. You keep safe, too... be looking forward to that meal when I get back."

"Hope so. I'll have it hot and ready for you." 

Arthur's hand stilled so much in yours, you feared he became a statue. 

And then he was moving fast, hand pulling away, chin ducking as he turned on a heel to walk away, burly shoulders up high enough to red-tipped ears.

Your own ears were burning as you watched him walk, and you-yourself quickly tried to reverse the blush on your own face by returning to the game table, joining a carefully-oblivious Pearson in preparing the new additions to the stewpot... 

It would've worked, the new distraction to try and push aside the fluttering in your chest, and the warmth on your cheeks. But, as if it was a temptation too sweet to even try to ignore, John succeeded in making your face burn an even hotter-temperature with a mocking-drawl of your words after his fellow retreating gunslinger. 

"Yeah, Arthur, be safe..." 

"You be safe too, John. Don't let the mosquitoes eat ya while you're lounging 'round. Wolves already had their bite, ain't gonna be much left..." 

Hosea, ever the calm mediator from halfway across the camp, "Delinquency should be well behind you both, gentlemen! You're making Sean look more grown...!" 

It was high-noon, and you swore your face was hotter than the sun.

Maybe even hotter than Hell-itself.

[shoah-cowboah]

Gaggle of Gossipers

Summary: Karen takes a moment to initiate some interesting conversation about the finer points of Arthur Morgan. It's primarily for the benefit of spurring Sadie Adler into action, but also because she, Tilly, and Mary-Beth can all appreciate one fine-looking cowboy.

Word Count: 2k+

  “Girls, that right there’s a real man,” Karen pointed out to them, getting their attention successfully as both Tilly and Mary-Beth turned to see precisely who she was referring to in such a complimentary tone.

  The three of them were in their usual spots that Grimshaw put them to working in. Today had been a slow day as far as gossiping and conversation went. However, as per usual, Karen did not have any problem finding something for the three of them to discuss. Whether or not it was entirely appropriate or not was an entirely different matter indeed.

  To their mild surprise, Arthur seemed to be the only one that she could have been discussing in such a manner. He had just gotten back to camp and was brushing his horse, talking to her as he worked.

  “I’ll second that,” Mary-Beth was quick to agree, never one to hesitate when it came to making positive comments about Arthur.

  Tilly, however, kept her eyes on Karen, catching the conspiratorial expression on Karen’s face as the blonde shot a subtle glance in Sadie’s direction where she was fixing up her saddle.

  Catching the general direction where Karen was heading with this one, Tilly shook her head with a slight grin.

  “Me, too,” she went along with Karen’s scheme. She made sure to keep an eye on the resident widow to see what her reaction would be.

  To her amusement, Sadie did actually look up at them, her quick, surprisingly intelligent eyes dashing briefly between the girls and the direction that they seemed to be looking as she apparently spotted Arthur. Sadie’s gaze lingered on him, but she did not say a word as she looked back down at her saddle, obviously listening in on their conversation at this point but not choosing to actually participate.

  Tilly was not entirely participating for the sake of messing with Sadie or spurring her into some manner of action. She had always had a slight crush on Arthur, but she also knew precisely where their relationship was. She loved him deeply as some manner of family and friend, and with that, she wished him happiness regardless of where he found it.

  Mary-Beth, on the other hand, was not participating for any such reason. She had no idea of the scheme Karen was concocting and she figured that they were admiring Arthur as they would any other day. It was not an uncommon subject in the least to discuss the appeal of the menfolk around camp, and Arthur was the prized catch when it came to those sorts of debates. Especially in Mary-Beth’s eyes.

  Karen had started this primarily for the sake of kicking Sadie into gear, but she did also like to admire Arthur anyway. He was the best man in camp by far at least where the ladies were concerned.

  “I mean, look at him. Any girl’d be lucky to get a chance at that feller,” Karen declared, and Tilly huffed slightly as she caught the slight tick of Sadie’s gaze as she glanced at Karen.

  “He’s so dreamy… Always so thoughtful, bringing everybody anything they need. He brought me a really pretty pen back at Horseshoe Overlook,” Mary-Beth mused, sounding positively entranced and infatuated. Tilly could not help the barest of huffs as she spoke up with her own contribution.

  “He got me a new necklace just the other day,” Tilly pointed out, and she noticed the slight furrow of Sadie’s brow as she clenched her jaw slightly, glancing up at them again.

  “Look, I ain’t even talking about just his personality. Just look at the man. He’s ‘bout as fine-looking as it gets,” Karen expressed aloud, not bothering to hold back since he was not in their vicinity and could not hear them.

  “I know… He’s the kind of guy in those pretty books with the strapping hero and his little lady,” Mary-Beth

  “I don’t know so much about bein’ somebody’s little lady, but I’d be his,” Karen replied, and Mary-Beth nodded wholeheartedly, completely on-board with that notion.

  “Y’know, he’s the main character in all my writings,” Mary-Beth lowered her voice a little to make sure no one else outside of their little group heard, and Karen gasped at her with a wide grin, straightening in her seat. Mary-Beth withdrew a little, grinning widely and sheepishly.

  “Mary-Beth Gaskill!” Karen declared as if it were terribly scandalous. However, the thought of Arthur ever finding out certainly was scandalous at the very least.

  “I can’t help it! He’s… He’s art,” she stated, that dream-filled head of hers coming out with more things that Tilly did not exactly understand the technicalities of given her practical nature. Tilly smiled a little as Karen chuckled wickedly.

  “Can I read them sometime?” Karen questioned shortly after that, and Mary-Beth blushed heavily as soon as she asked her question. Karen almost giggled, and Tilly could not help but laugh along. She took another look at Mrs. Adler, curious as to how she was doing with all this right about now.

  Sadie was now watching them underneath her hat, her gaze centered primarily on Karen and Mary-Beth due to their more consistent chatter on the subject. Her head was angled down so that no one would really notice her watching, but Tilly could see her very clearly boring holes in their heads.

  Now Tilly was not necessarily afraid of Sadie, but she certainly did not want to push her too far, so at the next convenient moment that she saw Grimshaw, she pointed it out to the girls in an attempt to distract them.

  “I think she’s looking at us,” Tilly warned them. Karen just grumbled, turning her head to slowly cut her eyes in Grimshaw’s general direction. It was reminiscent of the larger alligators that Tilly had seen in their lazy yet ornery ways that they had when people passed by on horses.

  “Well, if she keeps looking, I’ll just stab her eyes out,” Karen announced.

  “Karen!” Mary-Beth giggled in spite of herself, momentarily distracted from the Arthur situation.

  “What?! If you had the chance, don’t tell me you wouldn’t stick it to the old bag,” Karen told her, but Tilly noticed how she lowered her voice just slightly in the midst of her rebellious statement. Tilly just raised an eyebrow.

  “Now, if you’re gonna do her in, you’d be wise to stick with the method I was going with.”

  “What’s that?” Karen asked, and Tilly shrugged.

  “Poison. It’s subtle and it works fast,” Tilly informed her.

  Sadie scoffed a little, some sound close to a laugh leaving her despite her apparent efforts to remain uninvolved. Tilly just smiled at her a little, attempting to encourage her to join in the discussion but Sadie did not look up. It seemed that her overall interest in the conversation was significantly reduced since Arthur was not the subject matter any longer.

  “Tilly!” Mary-Beth whisper-yelled in shock again, unable to help her laughter, and Tilly grinned a bit in spite of herself.

  “Well, how would you do it, Miss Gaskill?” Karen inquired, putting on a poor attempt at making fun of Grimshaw’s voice when she generally addressed Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth just huffed, shrugging as she looked down at her sewing idly.

  “I don’t know… I don’t suppose I really wanna kill her or nothing. She’s just… She could use something to soften her up a little.”

  “What? Like a man?” Karen questioned, and Tilly looked between the both of them.

  “That’d work,” Mary-Beth conceded, and Karen just scoffed as Tilly looked at her as if she had lost her mind a little.

  “Which one of these poor boys are you gonna force to put up with that woman?” Tilly asked, looking at Mary-Beth.

  Mary-Beth started to reply, but they all stopped as they spotted Arthur not too far off picking up a bale of hay. They were all silent as they watched him, his forearms flexing with the lift as he took hold of the strings around the bale. Mary-Beth’s jaw went a little slack, and Tilly just watched, not taking her eyes off of him. Karen did not utter a word, but her eyes were certainly expressing some manner of message.

  As he passed, he happened to glance in their direction. They all tried to force some semblance of normal to attempt to cover up the fact that they were all staring at him. He offered them a small smile, nodding to them since he could not tip his hat at the moment, and he headed around the wagon out of their line of sight.

  As soon as he was not in earshot or did not seem to be, Karen let out an appreciative whistle.

  “Mm, mm, mm, that man’s fine,” Karen commented, and Mary-Beth sighed wistfully, trying to find some way to look around the wagon and catch sight of him again despite the fact that it was basically impossible given her position at the moment. Tilly raised her eyebrows, humming agreement with Karen.

  Tilly glanced in Sadie’s direction to see if she was looking at them again. As she had suspected, Sadie was once again invested. However, it seemed that her gaze was warring between subtly glaring at the three of them and staring at Arthur as she seemed to do some silent appreciating of her own.

  “You see them arms?” Karen commented, fanning herself a little for dramatic effect.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what we were all lookin’ at, Karen,” Tilly replied, trying not to reply too much given the fact that she was honestly not sure what Sadie might do in the near future. However, she was attempting to feign some amount of normality despite the fact that she saw Karen stealing frequent glances at her primary target in this whole ordeal.

  One could definitely say that Karen was most certainly not afraid of poking the bear. Of course, one never argued that Karen had a whole lot of good sense when it came to knowing when not to pick a fight.

  “Yeah… It’s one of my favorite things about him apart from his eyes. They’re just so full of life and… wonder,” Mary-Beth gushed, and Karen just scoffed dismissively at her as she stole a subtle glance at Karen. The slightest smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, and Tilly sighed deeply, taking another look at Mrs. Adler.

  “Now, we were talking about the finer aspects of his physique, not all that book-writing nonsense. Like when he unbuttons the top part of his collar…”

  Sadie scoffed once more as she had earlier when she had offered her halfhearted contribution to their conversation. She looked at them, leaning over her saddle as she stared at Karen.

  “Ain’t you sweet on Sean?” Sadie came right out and said it, quite obviously trying to challenge the other woman and get her off the subject of Arthur.

  Karen took the bait at least partially, instantly on the defense despite the fact that she had aimed to get some manner of reaction out of the other blonde.

  “What?!”

  “Why don’t we discuss the finer points of Mr. MacGuire?” Sadie pushed further, watching Karen keenly, and Karen raised an eyebrow. Sadie did not appear fazed in the least outwardly, but Tilly could see Sadie shift slightly as Karen changed her demeanor altogether.

  “Well, now, Mrs. Adler, you sure do seem awful concerned all of a sudden about Sean when we were clearly talking about Arthur. Sounds almost like I struck a nerve or somethin’.”

  “Naw, you ain’t struck no nerve, but I figured you might want to remember that Sean MacGuire’s your man,” Sadie replied, looking far too pleased with herself as she looked back down at her saddle and started to pick it up to go back to Bob with it.

  Karen narrowed her eyes, starting to question what she thought she was doing running off so fast when she was suddenly interrupted.

  “Oi! What’d she say?!” the aforementioned Irishman spoke up quickly and excitedly from not too far off, and it was quickly apparent why exactly that Sadie had seemed so victorious.

  Karen groaned deeply, and Tilly could not help but laugh with Mary-Beth, enjoying the fact that Karen was now on the hook with the enthusiastic young man.

  Mrs. Adler’s complicated relationship with Arthur might not have been any of Tilly and Karen’s business, but it sure was fun making it their business.

  If only poor old Mary-Beth could wake up and smell the coffee…

[arthursfuckinghat]

☽⋅𖤐⋆ Against the sun, we're the enemy. ⋆𖤐⋅☾

[rosemary-morgan]

Arthur Morgan X F.Reader - A sweet surprise (18+)

(Pictures found on pinterest/google. That one with Arthur is mine. Collage made by me 🌺)

Warning: 18+!! smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, fingering, spanking, oral sex (f and m receiving), cum play, language

Hello, my pretty and wonderful little bees out there 🧡🐝 I have some filth for you. And… oh boy, it's just pure filth. I think this is by far the naughtiest thing I have written so far (❁´��`❁)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🥰 The summary was her idea

Summary: You and Arthur take a little time out to enjoy your love to the fullest. And in Saint Denis, a very special gift awaits Arthur - a special something that you know he will love

Arthur Morgan X F.Reader - A sweet surprise (18+)

You are both laughing as you arrive back at your hotel room. The night in Saint Denis had been wonderful and you hadn't had such a good time in a long time. Going to the theater tonight had been a great idea of Arthur's and you had enjoyed every minute of it. 

The door closes behind you and at that moment Arthur hugs you from behind and you sigh contentedly, closing your eyes and leaning against his strong chest.

"Thank you, for this wonderful evening, Arthur," you whisper,chuckling softly as he kisses the small spot behind your ear.

His lips move tenderly over your skin, kissing your neck sensually, for Arthur knew exactly how sensitive you were in that spot. Instantly you moan softly, biting your lower lip and enjoying how tender he is. His strong hands slowly slide over your hips, stroking the beautiful dark green dress that you're wearing.

"You look lovely tonight, Y/N..."

Playfully he bites your earlobe and you can hear him laughing softly in the next moment, deeply arousing you. His deep voice had an immediate effect on your body and you felt it instantly. You could already feel a tingle between your pretty thighs and this feeling was strengthened even more when his hands grip your breasts and squeeze them with pleasure.

"Arthur..."

"Mmm... you smell so good, Y/N..."

Gasping softly, he says this as his lips glide over your neck. His right hand slid from your chest down to your thigh and he slowly gathered up the long skirt of your dress so he could touch your tender skin that was hiding underneath. Oh, Arthur already saw himself lying between your pretty legs. 

"Arthur, my love, I have a surprise for you," you whisper as Arthur continues to kiss you unflinchingly, making you moan as he kisses just the right spot on your shoulder.

You smile, pulling away from his tender kisses for the moment. Questioning, but with a teasing smile, Arthur looks at you as he takes your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. His look was full of love and full of desire.

"A surprise?"

"Yes. But you'll have to wait a little longer."

Without objection, Arthur let you lead him to the divan, where you made him sit on it.

"You stay here for a moment and I'll be right back, darling."

A seductive glance from you was enough to make Arthur submissive. He took a deep, excited breath as he watched you disappear behind the divider. Arthur could only hear you opening the drawer and that made him very curious indeed. 

Little by little, you threw your clothes over the partition and Arthur became more and more nervous, more and more impatient, because every time a piece of clothing fell off your body, more skin was revealed. Arthur licked his lips at the thought, because he wanted to touch you, kiss you, taste your body.

"Babygirl? What are you doing?"

"I'm getting undressed," you said, giggling softly, because you could already tell by his voice that he was impatient. "Arthur, don't you dare look!"

"Alright, alright. I'm a good boy."

You couldn't resist teasing him, so you stuck your bare leg out of the partition and gave him a little taste.

Arthur grinned in amusement. He knew you were playful and he loved that. He also loved being teased by you and you loved it when he showed you where your place was... afterward.

It took you another moment to pull your last piece of clothing over your body. You were a little excited to present yourself right away in your new lingerie, because this one was really daring. And the way Arthur reacted the moment you came out from behind the partition, your surprise served its purpose.

Arthur's eyes grew wide, his lips were slightly parted as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

"Surprise, surprise, my love."

"Sweet Jesus..."

You wore a black corset, which ended under your breasts and showed them off beautifully. In addition, you wore long, black silk stockings, which were attached to the corset with suspenders. But what finally made Arthur go crazy was the fact that you were not wearing any panties. Your most intimate part was out in the open, but you were wearing those wonderful suspenders and your gorgeous, sweet pussy was on display in all its beauty.

"Fuck... Y/N..."

What a sight! You had known he would like this and it excited you. Playfully, you bite your lower lip as you approach him slowly and smoothly, turning around once so Arthur can admire your bare ass.

"Do you like my little surprise, Arthur?" 

You laugh softly and seductively, already knowing the answer.

"If I wern't such a fucking gentleman, I'd throw you over my shoulder right now and fuck your brains out in bed!"

Oh, Arthur would certainly fuck you good and he would take you in that outfit. God, yes, he could already see you in front of him. How you would lie whimpering under him, in your stockings, while you would willingly stretch your pretty ass towards him, which he would slap a few times properly.

The thought alone heated Arthur up a lot and he began to sweat, instantly opening the collar of his shirt.

Arthur was about to get up, but you stopped him, because you weren't finished with your surprise.

"Relax, Arthur. Lay back and relax."

Arthur watched you kneel between his legs with lust in your eyes. 

Arthur grinned as he stared at your magnificent tits pressed upward by the corset. What would he give now to press his face between those magnificent pillows? To lick and suck on your nipples? 

"You're pure sin, you know that?"

"Mmm, is that so, Arthur?" you asked in a sweet tone as you slowly unzipped his pants and pulled down the zipper. Arthur drew in a sharp breath, knowing what was about to come, and he couldn't wait to feel your sweet mouth around his cock.

"Y/N... mhmm... you are such a naughty girl..."

You playfully lick your lips as you look at him, pulling his pants down a bit to free his manhood. His cock popped free, lying on his stomach and already aroused, but you knew there was more to be done. He already had a considerable size.

Tenderly, you grab his cock, slowly running your hand up and down, enjoying hearing Arthur take pleasure in it. You bend your head forward and start kissing him, tenderly and slowly. Your tongue glides along his velvety shaft, all the way up to his tip, which you then embrace with your lips and suck on.

"Ahh..."

Arthur lets his hand slide gently through your hair, watching you closely as he loved this view. As you look up at him, with your beautiful, big eyes, you finally take it into your mouth and Arthur thought he was losing his mind.

"Fuck..."

Pleasurably, he dropped his head into his neck as you sucked him and your delicate fingers stroked his testicles, knowing how wild that was making him.

"God, Y/N... ahhh..."

With a seductive giggle, you take him out of your mouth to now play with his plump, thick balls. You suck them gently into your mouth while Arthur makes it even easier for you to get  on the right spot. He rose from his spot, now towering over you as you still knelt in front of him. His hands held your head tightly as you worked his balls, sucking them greedily, but gently.

"Oh fuck... fuck..."

Arthur stroked himself, playing with the tip of his cock, while you sucked his balls greedy.

"You're such a naughty girl... mhmm..."

After a while, you took care of his hard, thick cock again. You wrapped your hand around it, massaging it, and Arthur looked down at you lustfully, grasping his cock himself. 

"Open your mouth!" he commanded, smacking his cock gently on your lips, whereupon you promptly stuck out your tongue catching the pre-cum dripping from it. Moaning with pleasure, Arthur watched you enjoy this moment very much. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your cheek, smearing his fluids over your skin.

"Ah... yes, Arthur..."

"You like that, don't you, Y/N?"

You look at his beautiful face with a smile, his shining eyes are so sexy.

With your delicate hands you embrace your plump breasts, his cock squeezed between the soft pillows and you massage it. Arthur moaned instantly, watching his cock being massaged between your tits.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you so hard for this; you won't be able to leave this room for the next few days... fuck... ahh..."

He was about to explode right in your face, but you stopped abruptly and you could hear the heavily disappointed undertone in his voice as the warm, soft feel of your tits no longer surrounded him. When Arthur opened his eyes, you were already on your feet again and with a cheeky expression on your pretty face as you backed away from him. You wanted to play, Arthur saw that and he liked to get involved in that kind of thing.

"Oh, so you wanna play, sweetheart?"

"Mmm, maybe."

Arthur took off his pants completely, already tugging his shirt over his shoulders, and tossed everything carelessly in a corner until he was finally standing in front of you in his full glory. 

Oh, what a man. So tall, masculine and muscular. His thighs resembled solid marble columns, his chest was covered with fine hair, a few scars adorned his body and he was perfect for you. Perfect and beautiful. Just as you were for Arthur.

His hungry eyes observed your body, the gorgeous, rounded hips, the plump tits that came out of that corset very provocatively. And your sweet, wet pussy, which was so indescribably beautiful and delicious. As was your scent, which was overwhelming.

"How beautiful you are, Y/N..."

He came closer to you and just as he was about to grab you, you slipped away from him and Arthur was very excited by that. It wouldn't be long before he had you either, as the room didn't offer many opportunities for escape. 

"Come here!"

He caught up to you quickly, reached around your thighs and waist , and threw you over his shoulder. With a solid smack on your buttock, he made you moan lustily.

"Mmm..." He bit your buttock with delight, making you laugh softly. "I should spank your ass, sweetheart. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm, why don't you try it, Arthur?"

Suddenly you feel his fingers sinking into your pussy and you take them deep without any problems.

"Look how wet you already are, princess!"

He finger-fucks you quickly, for a brief moment, which made you moan lustfully and whimper. When he takes his fingers out of you again, he licks your nectar off of them.

"Mmm..." He purrs softly, taking you to the bed where he tossed you in.

Instantly you spread your legs wide for him so he could see you in all your beauty. You were so dripping wet for him that it was already sliding down your labia and wetting the sheet beneath you.

"What a sight... I can't wait to lick that pretty pussy of yours, Y/N."

"Then come here, Arthur..." you said as you bit your lip and prepared to give yourself completely to him.

And Arthur wasted no time either, immediately laying down between your legs, inhaling your scent, murmuring deeply and excitedly and licking his lips as he did so. Shortly after, he sank his face between your pretty thighs and you felt his mouth taking you fully. Arthur was kissing you greedily, hungrily, enjoying the nectar that came out of you. 

You felt incredible pleasure, clawing at the sheet beneath you and moaning sweetly, while he eats you out like a pot of honey. He gently takes your labia into his mouth, sucking on it and then letting go. He did this over and over again, then ran his tongue between your labia and quickly swirls on your pearl with the tip of his tongue. And as Arthur did this, he could hear you whimpering and moaning, which excited him deeply. God, he couldn't wait to ram his hard cock deep into your wet hole and make love to you until you were completely drained in that bed. He had a single image running through his mind; you, covered in his cum, lying whimpering on the bed, with your legs spread wide, and yet you would be begging him to keep going. "Mhmm... ahh..." That filthy thought heated him up beyond belief, nearly driving him out of his mind.

His hands held your thighs tightly, holding you on the bed while his tongue pushed deep into your pussy. Soon, you started to tremble and that's when Arthur knew you were about to climax. 

Looking down at him, you stared directly into his eyes, which were full of lust and greed. They were dark with desire and you knew you were in for a long night; and hell yes, you wanted it. There was so much you could do, so much you could try. Just the two of you, wrapped in your passion, in the immense love you had for each other.

"A-Arthur... ahh..."

Your lust overtook you, your fingers clawing desperately into his hair and your lower body quivering as your climax shook you.

"God... Arthur!"

You tried to push his face away from you as this pleasure was almost unbearable and your clit was so incredibly sensitive, but Arthur wouldn't let you push him away, he held you close, fucking your hole with his tongue and you thought you were losing your mind. It gave him an incredible amount of pleasure to see you trembling so full of lust. He only let go of you slowly, looking at you very closely, seeing the lust in your mimic.

"Mhm..."

Arthur licked his lips sensually, you could see your nectar shimmering on his face and in his beard.

"Arthur... oh god..."

Your beautiful smile of joy, made his heart almost burst with joy. His warm body laid on top of you, his lips kissing yours hungrily and full of passion, while he guided his cock to your wet, wet pussy, stroking the tip over your clit, before entering deep inside you, moaning together with you full of pleasure...

♦♦♦♦

Your pussy was like velvet and you were hot, so wet. Arthur thought he was losing his mind. He began to thrust into you. Slowly at first and he savored being so deep inside you. His throbbing cock filled you completely. "Ahh... you're so tight and so hot..." he moaned against your ear and he bit your earlobe. His voice had gone a notch  darker and that made your body tremble with pleasure. His lips kissed your mouth as he moved rhythmically inside you and his tart scent clouded your senses. He smelled of leather, thyme and tobacco...

The sound of his balls smacking against your wetness filled the room as he thrust hard and deep into you from behind. Your butt cheeks bounced with each thrust, as did your plump breasts. His strong hand gripped your ass, squeezing tightly, before giving it a good smack.

"Ahh! Arthur... yes..."

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, deeply aroused, while he kept fucking your brains out. His hands spread your butt cheeks apart and he enjoyed the sight of his cock slamming into you again and again, his balls slapping against your pussy.

"Oh, fuck... mhmm..."

Enveloped by your scent and your husky, lustful sounds, and after more powerful thrusts from Arthur, he felt that he would soon reach his climax and you too felt yourself tingling violently between your legs and the feeling growing in your belly. When his hand slid between your thighs to caress your clit, you were soon overcome by your climax. Your ass stretched out to Arthur and you clawed at the sheet beneath you for help, driving him crazy with the sight of your beautiful body. And finally he squirted his seed deep into your soft pussy, growling lustfully and closing his eyes as he thrust into you trembling and riding out his climax. "Ahhhh!" 

He clung to you as you both collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. Your hearts beat quickly in time and it took a moment for you to calm down from your climax. You felt so desired, so loved; you felt like you would always find protection in his arms.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments; your foreheads resting together, not wanting to lose the feeling of the other. This was a special moment for both of you...

♦♦♦♦

"I would love to stay here for a few more days. Just live like a normal couple on a vacation," you said as you put the last of your clothes in the suitcase. Arthur could understand you very well. It was something different not to have to worry all the time about what was going to happen to all of you. The two of you had not spoken once about the current situation in the camp during the time you were here. At the moment everything was going well, but for how long? You had often had this thought, but this weekend, you had completely blocked it out, and that was a good thing.

"You know, sweetheart, I'd like to take you to Strawberry. To the mountains, to nature. Enjoy the peace and quiet..." Arthur hugged you from behind and kissed your neck, smiling contentedly. Loving you was a blessing for him. You were an incredible woman that he desired so much and his heart, his soul, belonged to you alone.

"What do you think of that, Y/N?"

"I'd love that Arthur. Just you and me..."

"Yes."

He tenderly kissed your lips and whatever was to come was of no importance at the moment.

[thvnder-kitkat]

Chapter 3 of my Red Dead Redemption fic! You can read it here 💓

Abigail didn't want to hear about bounty hunting or working as a hired gun, so John bounded to her will and found a job as a farmhand. Back then he didn't know anything about farming and ranching. It was hard. Hard and monotonous, terribly boring and numbing his senses. He has been working from dusk to dawn, building fences, carrying hay and heavy sacks, feeding animals, grooming them, shoveling manure - all this in full sun. He was making five dollars per week . It was humiliating. John hasn't been used to something like this. Money always came easy before. Lots of money, and John liked to spend it. He appreciated silk and thick flannel, wool and cotton, expensive leather, custom-made guns and rifles, imported colognes - and he changed all this for being a farmhand in a cheap worker's suit.

He was coming home after sixteen hours of grinding, stinking of sweat and horse shit, dreaming only of a bath and a good night's sleep. Abigail and he barely talked; John didn't even remember when they had sex for the last time. She was constantly discontent and frustrated - she criticized him at every chance she could. It didn't matter what he did - everything was wrong. When John tried to talk to her, Abigail just turned him down, as if pretending that nothing had happened. As if John losing Arthur wasn't such a big deal.

John didn't have anyone to turn to, nobody to talk to - he had to process everything all by himself. The awareness that had left Arthur to die on this mountain was a burden he carried over his shoulders every day. It didn't matter to him that Arthur saved him - that he gave his life for John's safety and wellbeing. It's been ten years, and John still remembered every detail, each word Arthur said to him in 1899. How he put his hat on John's head, gave him his bag and silver colts, keeping only his favourite Winchester.

*We ain't both gonna make it… Go, now. I'll hold them off. It would mean… A lot to me… Go to your family. Get out of here and be a goddamn man!*

It was cold; heavy rain poured from the black sky that hung low over their heads. John was looking at Arthur with his voice stuck in his throat. Marston knew that Arthur was dying and that his last wish was to give him a chance for a better life, but he didn't care. He wanted to stop him, he didn't want to lose him now. Arthur was his family, John wasn't ready for this to happen so soon.

*"You're my brother, Arthur."

*"I know."

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: It's time to collect a debt

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 4 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

Time whisked by faster than a hound chasing a rabbit through tall grass. A week had already slipped through Kate's fingers since she first became a part of the camp. Initially planning just a brief stay, she found herself relishing the comforting routine it offered. There was always a warm fire to gather around, a hearty meal to share, and the camaraderie of her newfound friends. But amidst the stability, a yearning for adventure tugged at her heartstrings, urging her to break free from the confines of camp, even if only for a day.

Arthur's comings and goings became a familiar rhythm in the camp's bustling routine. Rarely catching more than a glimpse of him before he vanished on another errand for Dutch, Kate couldn't help but miss his presence. She admired his unwavering dedication to the gang's needs, even if it meant sacrificing his own rest and relaxation. The man seemed to be perpetually on the move, always ready to answer the call of duty, no matter the hour.

Determined to bridge the gap, Kate promised herself to lend a hand the next time Arthur returned to camp, as long as it didn't involve any unsavory activities like killing folk. Meanwhile, she found solace in the company of her fellow campmates. Abigail, Tilly, and Mary-Beth had become her trusted confidantes, bonding over laundry duties and exchanging juicy tidbits of camp gossip. Kate couldn't help but chuckle at the wealth of information she'd amassed about John, courtesy of Abigail's candid revelations. She could probably write a book with how much dirt she had on him. 

Kate also found companionship in the likes of Sadie and Lenny, often engaging in games of poker or dominos to while away the hours. Karen and Molly remained enigmatic figures, preferring to keep to themselves, though Kate respected their need for privacy, understanding the complexities of the situation, and Molly’s relationship with Dutch. 

Despite their infrequent interactions, Kate held out hope for a chance to connect with Charles, intrigued by the silent strength he exuded. Perhaps a shared hunt would provide the opportunity for meaningful conversation. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The girls were gathered around the makeshift wooden table, indulging in a lunch of meat and cheese when Micah swaggered over, looking for trouble as usual. Kate had endured the displeasure of conversing with Micah only twice in the past week, and neither encounter had been pleasant. She noticed his penchant for making inappropriate comments, particularly targeting the other girls. When he wasn't being lewd, he took pleasure in needling the other gang members, especially Lenny, Javier, and sometimes even Arthur. Kate knew Arthur would have put him in his place if Dutch hadn't always conveniently intervened. She fought the urge to punch his greasy face when he made a jab about Arthur's weight, as if he were one to talk. After all, Arthur deserved to eat his fill for all the hard work he put in. Micah was always stirring the pot, and today seemed to be no different.

“Which one of you ladies wants to feed me my lunch?” He said smugly, resting both hands on his gun belt and standing uncomfortably close. The girls chose to ignore him. 

“Is this how you treat the men who provide for you?” He exclaimed with annoyance. 

Kate kept her head down and continued to eat as she spoke, as if Micah were less than an ant, “What exactly have you provided for us Micah? I’ve never seen you bring in food, or money for the matter. You leave and come back with nothing.” 

Micah scoffed and sauntered to stand behind Kate, trying to intimidate her, “I provide information sweetheart, I risk my life out there getting leads for jobs.”

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “you poor thing ,” she mused, “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” The other girls giggled at her comment. 

Micah stepped closer to her back, she could almost feel the gut of his belly against her hair, “watch your mouth woman.” He threatened. 

Kate sighed and leaned her chin against her palm, bored with the conversation, “or what Micah?” She said with an eye-roll. 

She heard him take a deep breath, or rather felt it, as he threw personal space at the wind at this point. He bent down to her ear and said lowly, “maybe I should take you to my cot, and fuck that attitude out of you whore .” He growled.  

Kate dropped her fork and whipped her elbow around, turning her whole body with force. Micah yelped as her elbow met his nose with a soft wet crunch, bright red blood dripping through his fingers as he looked up between his brows in anger. She had wanted to do that since the day she met him, fed up with how he talks to the women of the camp. This act was for the girls. 

“You dont have a dick to fuck me with Micah. You’re a lousy fucken’ excuse for a man,” she declared standing tall, “talk to me like that again and I’ll make sure I’m holding my knife when I swing next time.” 

The other members watched in stunned silence as Dutch emerged from his tent, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough of that!" he shouted, his gravelly tone signaling an end to the confrontation.

Micah spat at Kate’s feet and walked away, still trying to stem the blood pouring from his nose. She couldn't help but smirk at the sight – it was definitely broken. Sometime during the commotion, Arthur returned to camp, entering from the tree line as Micah left. She nodded in greeting as he approached.

Before she could walk over to him, Dutch intercepted her, clearly annoyed that their squabble had disturbed him. “Kate, my dear friend,” he said in a brusque tone, “why don't you find some work outside of camp today? Hm? Go make yourself useful.” He patted her shoulder.

Kate furrowed her brows at his insinuation. How was this her fault? Micah had clearly started it; he was always stirring up trouble and never finishing it.

“Arthur!” Dutch called out to the approaching cowboy. “Take Kate with you today. On, whatever it is you’re doing.” He waved them off, sounding like a parent trying to pass on their troublesome child to someone else.

Arthur approached with a shrug, “uh, sure. But I just got back-”

“Herr Morgan!” interrupted a voice, causing Arthur to visibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The list of chores never seemed to end, and Arthur was always the one sent to handle them.

“Strauss,” Arthur acknowledged with a tired voice, turning around to greet the wiry old German.

“How is the debt collecting coming along? Have you collected from that fella Downes?” Strauss inquired.

“No…I have not,” Arthur answered flatly. 

“Well, as you know, Mister Morgan, we lent him quite a sum, and it seems he has little intention of paying it back,” Strauss explained as he followed Arthur, who was trying to grab a meal for himself after working all day. “You have not seen him yet, I take it?” 

Kate stood back, observing the conversation unfold, patiently waiting to talk to Arthur. He was clearly irritated by Strauss’ interruption but tried to maintain politeness as he continued the conversation. “I-I’m sorry, Strauss. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’ll go give him a gentle reminder.” 

“Not so gentle,” the German corrected. “I don't like his kind. They think they are superior. Please take care of this right away.” With that, Strauss made his exit. Kate knew he wasn't trying to be rude or demanding; it was just another task that, for some reason, Arthur was deemed best suited to handle.

As Arthur finished speaking with Strauss, he turned back to Kate with a tired yet apologetic expression. "Sorry ‘bout that. Looks like Dutch has volunteered us for another errand," he said with a weary smile. 

Kate grinned in response, unfazed by the prospect of more work, though she had sympathy for the man, he was clearly exhausted. "No worries, Arthur. I'm always up for the adventure," she replied casually, “wanna saddle up after you finish eating?” 

"Sounds perfect," Arthur nodded appreciatively, carrying his plate back to the table. The other girls had already cleaned up and returned to their tasks.

“That was a nice swing you pulled on Micah,” Arthur remarked between spoonfuls of stew, “ ‘bout time someone made that asshole bleed. Just wish I could’a done it sooner.”  

“I certainly enjoyed it,” Kate admitted with a smirk, “I hate the way he talks to everyone.” 

"Yeah, me too," Arthur agreed, his tone filled with frustration,  pushing the contents of the leftover stew around with his spoon. "I don't know why Dutch insists on keepin’ him around," he added, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard.

Kate leaned against the table, her gaze following Micah's path. "He ain't good for nothing aside from causing trouble," she remarked, her voice firm.

Arthur brought the bowl to his lips and drained the last of his stew and stood up, determination in his eyes. "I'd give anything to watch that shit-stain hang," he declared as they headed towards their horses.

Kate nodded in agreement. "Amen to that."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The Downes ranch was a short ride west, Arthur taking the lead as Kate rode beside him. Lorena whinnied with excitement at the chance to stretch her legs and run again. 

“How did things go with Mary?” Kate inquired, breaking the comfortable silence. She had been wanting to discuss it with him but hadn't found the opportunity amidst their busy lives.

“It went alright, I guess,” Arthur began, maintaining a steady trot as he settled into the saddle. “Saved her little brother from some crazy cult,” he added with a huff.

“A cult? Good Lord, I hope it wasn't those bastards with the pointy white hoods,” she exclaimed, a hint of concern in her voice. 

Arthur chuckled. “Nah, nothing that serious. They called themselves Chelonians, followers of the turtle or something,” he explained, shaking his head with amusement. “Hell if I know, they seemed like they were ready to jump off the cliff when I found them.” 

“Yikes, poor kid probably just looking for some kind of purpose in his life,” she remarked with sympathy. 

“Yup, ain't we all,” Arthur agreed, scanning the horizon before turning to Kate, “you a religious woman?” he asked curiously. 

Kate pondered the question for a moment before responding, “Sorta,” she shrugged, “I used to be, I was raised catholic. My mother was pretty involved in the Vatican before she came here, so she carried a lot of those beliefs with her.” 

“Pardon my ignorance, but um, what's a vatican?” 

Kate smiled at his question, “it’s a city, in Rome,” she answered, “s’posed to be the Center of Christianity.” 

Arthur’s eyes lit up with interest, “Rome? I thought you said you was from Boston?”

She couldn't help but laugh, “I am, my mother was from Rome,” she clarified, “anyways, after she died the whole religion thing didn't really stick. Although sometimes I still find myself prayin’, just don’t know to who.” 

Arthur nodded at her answer, taking in the new information. Kate spoke up again and reciprocated his question, “are you a religious man?” 

He shook his head firmly, “nah, I don't believe in nothin’.” 

“Oh c’mon, you gotta believe in something. What do you make of this mess we call life?” Kate teased, trying to prompt a more serious answer from him. 

He sighed, “I believe everything must happen for a reason, otherwise, what's the point of it all?” 

“Well that’s much better than nothing” she said with a smile, “but I bet that belief will drive ya crazy too,” she thought about her next question for a moment before finally asking it, “what do you make of death?” 

Arthur kept his gaze forward as they trotted, seemingly avoiding the question. After a moment, he spoke up again, his voice sounding small. “I don’t know anything ‘bout that either.”

Kate exhaled softly. “If I remember correctly, that agent, Milton, said you were wanted for murder,” she paused, “who’d ya kill?” She knew she was probably pushing her luck, but if he didn’t want to answer she wouldn’t pry. 

Arthur shot her a look from under the brim of his hat. “Damn, woman, you sure are forward, ain’t you?” His lips twitched in a small smile.

Kate shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just asking!” she said defensively. “You’re an interesting man, Arthur. The first time we met, you were robbing a stagecoach, telling me you're a railway worker. Next thing I know, I see you again, and suddenly you got a $5000 bounty on your head. Forgive a woman for asking.” She laughed.

He laughed and shook his head, “I’m afraid that's a story for another time friend,” he said, nudging his mare's side and picking up the pace, “c’mon it ain't far now, I’ll race ya.” He added, changing the subject. 

Arthur wasn’t afraid to admit he had killed people; he knew she would have left the gang a while ago had she felt she was in danger. But he worried about what she would think of him when he told her the whole truth. He felt like a fool; he wasn't pretending to be innocent, but he liked what he had with her. It was easy, it was natural, and he feared when she knew the truth, she would think differently of him, think less of him.

Kate yipped, and Lorena sprang into action, beginning their race along the final stretch to the ranch. As they rode, Arthur pulled on his reins ever so slightly, letting Kate take the lead. He watched as she whooped and hollered, riding past with a grin plastered on her face.

A heavy cloud settled over him; this wasn't just some silly horse race with a pretty lady. They were riding to collect a debt, a debt that needed to be repaid because his gang needed money. And money was what got them into this mess in the first place. If things had gone differently in Blackwater, they wouldn't even be here. Arthur shook his head at the memory, suddenly reminded of his situation. He’s a wanted man, an outlaw; he’s here on a job, and he would make damn sure it got done.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate admired the small ranch as they hitched their horses to a fence post out front. It was a cozy house with a neat garden, and sprawling plains for grazing animals. "Not a bad spot to make a living," she thought.

A woman sat on the porch swing, sewing something in her lap, while a young boy tended to the chickens nearby. In the garden, a man was busy with his vegetables. Arthur marched toward the man, presumably Mr. Downes, prompting Kate to quicken her pace to catch up.

"Thomas Downes!" Arthur's voice boomed, startling Kate. His tone was starkly different from how he usually spoke. She realized he was putting on a show of strength. Annoyed that he hadn't planned their approach together, she followed behind him.

“Thomas Downes!” He repeated, “you owe me money!” As Arthur swung open the garden gate with force, dirt kicked up into the air. 

Mr. Downes stood up, hands raised defensively, clutching a rake to his chest as if it were his shield against the impending confrontation, “oh, no-no I-I’m.” His voice trembled. 

Arthur approached him with heavy steps, each one more intimidating than the last, “c'mere you maggot,” he spat. With a swift motion, he ripped the rake from Mr. Downes' grasp, leaving Kate stunned into silence.  

"Please, sir, I-I have family, please," Mr. Downes pleaded, backing up against the opposite fence post. Kate followed them into the garden, her heart racing with unease as she witnessed Arthur's actions.  

As Arthur swung his fist into the man’s face, Kate gasped in horror. At the same moment, Mrs. Downes came running from the porch, her voice filled with desperation. "He’s not well! Please, mister, he’s not well!" she pleaded, her eyes wide with fear. She was about to join them in the garden when her son held her back, silently signaling that it was better for his father to bear the brunt of the punishment. Kate’s mouth tasted like vinegar, this was wrong. 

“You think I give a shit about your family?” Arthur spat, his voice dripping with contempt.  

“Why does it have to come to this?” Mr. Downes cried, shielding himself from Arthur's blows. “Please! Be reasonable!”  

“We ain't a charity, Mr. Downes,” Arthur lowered himself to the man's level, his tone softening slightly. “Believe me, I didn’t want this either,” he added quietly, his regret palpable.

With a forceful grip, he grabbed Mr. Downes by his collar and shoved him against the post, the impact enough to break one of his ribs.  

“That's enough, Arthur!” Kate roared, stepping closer, her eyes blazing with anger.

“I-I don't have the money,” Mr. Downes panted, struggling to catch his breath.  

Arthur looked around at the scene, his frustration evident. “Then sell your wife,” he spat out, his voice laced with malice, “sell your house, I don't care!” He raised a fist and stopped when he heard the familiar click of a revolver. 

He turned around to see Kate, pointing her gun at him, the expression on her face made his heart sink. There was no need for him to tell her the truth now, she saw everything she needed to see already. 

“I said, that’s enough,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Put him down.” Arthur released Mr. Downes, who collapsed to his knees, coughing up blood. His wife rushed to his side, her face etched with concern.

“You gonna shoot me?” Arthur's voice was filled with bitterness. “Shoot me and take the $5000? Huh? That's your plan,” he continued, growing more agitated with each passing moment. “Well, get on with it!” he shouted.

“How much does he owe you?” Kate's voice cut through the tension, devoid of emotion.

Arthur lowered his hands, “what?”

“How much does he owe you?” she repeated, her tone impatient.

“$20,” Arthur answered reluctantly.  

Kate holstered her weapon and pulled a wad of cash from her satchel, she counted out twenty bills and grabbed Arthur’s hand, shoving the money into his palm. 

“Here, no sense in killin’ a man over $20,” she turned to the family, “Mrs. Downes, I suggest you take that man to a doctor. I heard you say he was unwell, and he probably has a broken rib or two now.” 

Arthur stared at the money in his hand, his thoughts swirling like a storm. He wanted to hurl it to the ground and watch it burn.

The family lifted Mr. Downes and made their way to the wagon, “th-thank you,” she said, fear still evident in her voice. 

Kate watched them depart, her gaze lingering until the sounds of the wagon faded into the distance. Turning to Arthur, who stood before her like a statue carved from stone.

“What the fuck was that?” she scolded, her tone sharp like a whip.

Arthur opened his mouth, then shut it, grappling for words like a fish out of water.

“You don't even have a reason do you? Beatin’ on a sick man like that? For $20?” Kate’s voice rose with each question.

As the seconds passed by Arthur felt embarrassment creep up his spine, his shame quickly manifesting into anger. “We ain’t a charity,” he finally muttered, repeating what he had said to Mr. Downes. His voice barely above a whisper, struggling to maintain his composure.

“So you resort to killing him,” she remarked, her voice tinged with disappointment as she observed his expression.

“I’m an outlaw Kate, I shoot first, ask questions later,” he spat. 

“Yeah well that's a dumb fucken philosophy,” she retorted sharply , “you’re sure as shit an outlaw. But you ain’t a fucking monster Arthur. That man was sick , he had no way of defending himself. Strauss could’ve waited for his money.” She finished, striding towards her mare. The sense of disillusionment weighed heavy in her heart. She had glimpsed Arthur's tough exterior when they first met at Emerald Ranch, but she never imagined it would lead to this. It made her stomach churn.

“If you don't like the way we do things then you can leave,” Arthur's voice came from behind her, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Kate stopped in her tracks, why does this hurt so much? She’d known them for only a week, but the thought of leaving filled her with dread. It wasn't just the familiar and simple daily tasks of cooking and cleaning that anchored her to the camp; it was the friendships she had forged. They were the closest thing she had to a family in a decade.

She drew in a shaky breath and regained her composure, not turning to face him yet, “do you ever stop and think about what all this senseless killing will turn you into?” Before he could answer she finished for him, turning to meet his gaze, “When you kill an innocent, you become a little less of a man and little more of an animal.”

Without missing a beat Arthur had his answer, “then what you’re looking at ain’t human.” He sauntered over to Kate with slow purposeful steps. His anger was still present, but as he drew closer she saw the look in his eyes. They looked dead, and devoid of color. The sun was setting behind the mountains to the north, and a frigid wind brought in dark heavy clouds. As if the sky was a reflection of the turmoil in his heart. Darkness covered him like a blanket of shame. A heavy, suffocating blanket just waiting to bury the truth. 

“My hands are so stained with blood,” he began, his voice wavering, “that I can’t even remember the face of the first innocent I killed,” he drew in a breath and looked at his boots, “that ain’t something you can change.” 

The wind picked up, carrying tiny bullets of rainwater that tickled against her face. She watched him, and her heart panged. She wasn’t ready to tell him, and perhaps she’ll never get the chance to. But she related to the outlaw, more than she ever anticipated. Her mind raced, bringing back memories of faceless bodies and blood stained skin. Kate pushed the memory down, swallowing it like a spoon of molasses. 

“I don’t intend to change that,” her voice, sounding like a whisper against the heavy wind. 

“Then what do you intend Kate,” his voice sounded coarse, like his throat was thick, “why does a woman like you hang around a bunch of outlaws?” 

Now it was Kate's turn to gape like a fish, she still didn't understand herself why she chose to stay. She wanted to think of them as family but she knew it was absurd, and most of the gang probably wouldn't feel the same way. 

Arthur waited for her answer. “It’s better than being alone,” she finally said, thunder rumbled in around them like a giant beating a drum. “And I like them, they're good people.” She added feeling like an idiot for having no real reason for her to stay. 

Arthur sighed and shook his head, turning to leave. 

And suddenly, she realized the answer was walking away ,“and, I like you.” 

When his eyes met hers, they were pleading, like it pained him to speak to her. “Then you’re a fool Kate. There ain’t nothing to like about me. I’m a bad man, and I ain’t gonna change.” He spoke as if he were reciting a poem he had memorized, the words flowing with such ease one would think he was trained, no , he was raised to believe it was true. 

“I can’t escape this life. I don’t know how to live any other way,” he sounded like a small child. 

“I don’t believe that Arthur,” Kate knew there was good in him, she’d seen it. And she considered herself to be a living testament that it’s not too late to change. She wanted to shout at him, to embrace him, to beat his chest and tell him to pick himself up and break the cycle . 

Instead, she stood silently as Arthur shook his head once more, walked over to his horse, and left her at the ranch. Without a word. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The journey back felt like a whirlwind, the cold rain pelting down relentlessly, soaking Kate to the bone.  She looked up to the familiar sound of a rowdy piano and drunken laughter, and was surprised to see herself outside the Valentine saloon. Having not paid much attention to her ride, her mind racing with thoughts, almost all of them about Arthur.

“Guess I should take the hint huh?” Kate chuckled wearily to Lorena, patting the mare's neck as she dismounted. She tied her under a small awning, sheltering from the downpour while she went in for a drink. 

As she knocked the mud off her boots, a familiar voice called her name. She turned to see Charles waving from the nearby gun shop. In the dim light, his silhouette was unmistakable as he jogged over to meet her.

“I thought I recognized you riding in,” he greeted. “This storm’s a real beast. What brings you out here?” concern evident in his voice.

Kate contemplated her response. It's a long story, is what she wanted to say. “I could ask you the same,” she replied with a faint smile.

“I was just getting some supplies for hunting,” Charles explained, gesturing to the rain. “Planned on leaving tonight, but it seems I'm stuck here for now.” 

“Bummer,” Kate remarked, her exhaustion seeping through her words. She craved a neat glass of whiskey to warm her aching bones. 

Charles narrowed his eyes, sensing her distress. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. 

She looked down at her boots and sighed, no sense in lying to him. It was clear she was upset. And she had been looking to talk to Charles more anyway. 

“Honestly,” she huffed, “no, I’m not. Arthur and I collected a debt today and Arthur was just-” she trailed, unsure what to say. Charles was his friend, and she didn’t want to bad mouth him. 

Understanding washed over Charles's face as he nodded sympathetically. “Arthur was being Arthur,” he murmured.

Kate bit her lip, “yeah.” Her disappointment deepened as she realized she had Arthur all wrong. 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Charles suggested, holding the saloon doors open with a warm smile.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

In a secluded corner upstairs, Kate slouched in a rickety chair, whiskey warming her insides. Charles, equally deep in his cups, listened attentively as she recounted the events at the Downes ranch.

“And then he told me I shoot first, ask questions later ,” she mimicked in Arthurs familiar southern drawl, “it's barbaric!” 

He chucked taking a swig of his drink, “that’s a dumb fucken philosophy,” he agreed.

Kate laughed as she slammed her glass on the table, “that's exactly what I said!”

They both laughed together over the coincidence, Kate’s heart felt lighter. It felt good to vent to someone, someone other than the girls. Not that she didn’t love them, but Charles was refreshing, he was new, and he was close to Arthur. She felt safe knowing that Charles saw a different side of him too. 

His laughter quieted and went back to his usual deep comforting tone, “I’m sorry Kate, Arthur is,” he hesitated, searching for the right answer, “a complicated man.” 

“I can see that,” she said quietly, her face still hot from a mix of whiskey and laughter. 

“The man has a heart of gold,” he added, “but it's buried deep beneath his outlaw code.” 

Kate didn’t understand, Charles was part of the same gang, but even he disapproved of his code, “I don’t get it,” she began, the words seemingly harder to pronounce, “you’s an outlaw too.”

Charles shook his head, his gaze steady, “I am, and I’ve had my moments, I’ll admit,” he lifted a hand as if he were swearing on a Bible, “but I don’t hurt innocent people.” Kate said nothing, choosing to stare at the water stains on the wooden table, her drunken vision making them twist shape. 

He leaned in closer, “there’s a good man within him Kate. But he is wrestling with a giant, and the giant wins. Time, and time again.” 

She thought she mumbled something along the lines of I know what that is like but the words barely came out. A heavy tiredness taking over, the alcohol bringing her down like a vessel struck in water. Kate heard a chuckle from Charles, in the next moment he was under her arm and leading her to a room. 

“Stay here tonight, get some sleep on an actual bed,” he urged softly. Kate made no protest as her head sank into the feathered pillow. Her body melted into the sheets. 

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he murmured from the doorway, “you should come hunting with me.” Kate tried to say yes, but all that came out was a hum, like a cicada quieting its song as darkness descended.

[hillbillyhipster84]

New Ch. (33) with illustration, for my ongoing Arthur X Trelawny fanfic.

🤠❤️🏳️‍🌈🎩Excerpt and illustration below: