#but lenny and hosea both got what they wanted

[arthursfuckinghat]

The worst part about playing rdr2 again is knowing who's going to die, how they're going to die, when they're going to die, and not be able to do a single thing about it

[ccghastly]

Sub, Dom, or Switch

And Top, Bottom, or Both

With the Rdr2 boys

Some short headcanons on how the Van der Linde men like to get it.

(Nothing explicit, everything's written pretty obliquely)

Arthur, John, Charles, Hosea, Dutch, Keiran, Bill, Sean, Lenny, Javier, Micah, 

Arthur: 

Switch

Really depends on his mood.

Sometimes he's in the mood to feel big and in control, and sometimes he wants to lay back and be taken care of.

Both

He likes both equally well.

He just likes pleasure, however he's given it.

John: 

Sub

A bratty sub, will snark the entire time, but not so secretly really likes being bossed around.

Top

Liked bottoming a bit too much the few times he tried it, and it made him feel insecure, so he sticks to topping 

He is however very good at oral

Charles:

Switch

Not generally one for bed games, but depending on what his partner likes he can go either way

Top

Service top, loves taking care of his partners.

Had some bad experiences bottoming, so really doesn't prefer to do it anymore. But if he really trusts you he might be willing to give it a try.

Hosea:

Dom

Soft Dom, lots of praise and compliments.

Firm but sweet. Unlikely to give physical punishments.

Top

Simply doesn't derive a lot of pleasure from bottoming 

Dutch: 

Dom 

Because not being in control makes him feel uncomfortably vulnerable.

Both

Surprisingly willing to go either way

As long as he's still holding the reins, so to speak.

Keiran:

Sub

Tried Doming once or twice but got too nervous that he was doing it wrong.

Likes having clear instructions and plainly stated punishments for if he doesn't follow them. Just likes knowing what to do, and getting praise for doing it.

Both

Can go either way, entirely dependent on what his partner would like to do.

Is very whiny either way, he tears up and gets all stuttery. It's cute as hell.

Bill: 

Dom

Would be a switch if he wasn't madly insecure about his masculinity

If he trusts you he'd be willing to take a few orders.

Top

Bottoming also makes him feel very insecure

But as long as you never make fun of him for maybe wanting it, he'd probably open up enough to admit that he actually likes it either way.

Sean:

Switch

Depending on who he's with he either wants to give until they can't walk or take it until he can't.

Both

This boy just really wants to get fucked up, however the mood strikes him. Refuses to be shamed for it, everyone wants a piece of Macguire.

Lenny:

Dom

Really likes taking care of his partners, watching them fall to pleasure and knowing its all thanks to him.

The king of sweet aftercare.

Top

Was never interested in trying bottoming and still isn't.

Javier:

Switch

Leans more Dom but is willing to go either way depending on his partner.

Both

He is the loudest in bed, hands down. If he's talking It's almost entirely in Spanish, but he gets incoherent rapidly.

Very unashamed of how loud he is, why would he feel bad about a partner that makes him feel so good?

Micah:

Switch

Can go either way, but will run his mouth the entire time.

Some of what he says isn't even close to dirty talk, he just says whatever the hell comes to mind with no filter.

Bottom

He's, perhaps unsurprisingly, shameless about it. In fact he'll taunt his partners if they're not giving it to him well enough.

He's got standards and if they can't give him what he wants he'll go find someone who can.

(Here ya go, hoped you liked it! Lemme know what you think, I'd love to hear everyone's yays or nays)

[agoldengalaxy]

Rest Now, Dear Boy

read on Ao3

words: 2195

Hosea reflects on Arthur beginning to trust him and Dutch as a teenager as he watches him harbor the same fondness towards Lenny. Later, he wonders where it all went wrong.

--

1877, Spring

Hosea sat on a log, watching the embers from the campfire as they slowly rose toward the starry sky. He wasn’t sure how late it was, but he wouldn’t even think about sleep yet. It was hard not to worry when Dutch insisted on scoping this new area out on his own, but once he got the idea in his head, he couldn’t be dissuaded. It was something Hosea both loved and hated about him.

His gaze slid to his left, where Arthur sat beside him, a thin blanket pulled around his shoulders. His half-lidded eyes blinked slowly at the fire that illuminated his tired, young face. Despite it all, despite their situation, Hosea and Dutch tried their hardest to give a fourteen-year-old everything he could need, including enough rest, and it was definitely past the time he usually went to sleep. Hosea smiled as he took in the boy. “You ought to go to bed, Arthur. It’s late.”

“No,” he mumbled, managing to lift his gaze to Hosea for a moment before returning it to the fire. “Wanna wait ‘till Dutch gets back.”

They’d found him a little over a year ago, and he was stubborn, perhaps just as much as Dutch. They seemed to get along well for that reason, and Hosea found it incredibly endearing. He never would have pegged Dutch as being a good father figure, but he’d done very well. They both had, considering how loyal Arthur had become after their very rough start.

Figuring this wasn’t a battle worth having, he simply shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Quiet cricket chirps and gentle crackling flames filled the quiet that followed as Hosea turned his gaze up to the star-filled sky. It had to be the middle of the night, perhaps even later, and Dutch had left hours ago. Hosea worried, just as he always did, but Dutch always had a plan. He’d find a way to come back to him.

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, Hosea blinked out of his thoughts, watching Arthur’s head slowly dip downward - the poor boy was falling asleep sitting up straight. Without thinking, Hosea reached up, gently cradling Arthur’s head to guide it toward his shoulder. If he was awake, he didn’t fight it, and instead seemed content by the situation. Hosea held his head for a moment, sandy hair beneath his fingers, craning his neck to get a better look. Arthur’s face was completely slack, his mouth slightly open, the firelight dancing across his cheekbones.

Hosea’s heart burst full of warmth as he gently let go of the boy’s head to instead sling an arm around his shoulders for extra support. It had taken months to earn Arthur’s trust, and every day he was proving that they had earned it. Hosea felt special, like he was chosen, like he was really his father. He wanted to live in this moment for as long as he could.

Arthur felt warm against him, and despite his worry about Dutch, Hosea could feel a strong sense of peace wash over him.

He didn’t quite know how much time had passed until he heard quiet footsteps in the grass. He knew those footsteps well enough that he didn’t have to turn around or be on edge. Dutch approached the fire, placing a few fish beside it, and turned around to face them both. He seemed surprised at the sight before him, but said what he needed to say quietly and with a fond smile.

“There’s a small town nearby, not a lot of folks, but they seem nice enough. Stole a watch we can pawn off in the morning.” Dutch’s gaze drifted toward Arthur’s sleeping frame. “…What’s this about?”

Hosea smiled. “He wanted to wait up for you to get back.”

Blinking, Dutch approached them cautiously, sweeping some hair from Arthur’s eyes in a way that was so gentle it made Hosea’s heart flutter. “He’ll make a fine man someday,” he murmured proudly, and Hosea couldn’t help but agree. 

Carefully, Dutch placed his hands around Arthur; one on his back, one underneath him, and lifted him carefully. With his head against Dutch’s chest, Arthur blinked sleepily up at him. “Dutch…?”

“It’s okay, son. You’re safe, go back to sleep.”

With some wonder, Hosea watched as the words seemingly put Arthur under a spell, making him close his eyes again almost right away. Dutch knelt down beside the bedroll and slowly lowered Arthur into it, careful not to jostle him too much. Once he was laying there comfortably, Dutch pulled the blankets over him, sweeping hair out of his eyes once again.

Hosea walked over to kneel beside Dutch, and together they watched their boy for a moment. He looked so young like this. They knew they would miss it some day, but they also looked forward to the future, turning him into a man like them.

Perhaps they were selfish, to take a boy and turn him into an outlaw, give him a life of danger. But his life before had been even worse. They couldn’t give him the life he deserved, but they could at least give him as good a life as they could manage.

Dutch placed an arm around Hosea’s shoulders. Everything seemed right.

“Good night, dear boy.”

***

Spring, 1899

Horseshoe Overlook still bustled after a few hours with much quieter, drunken celebration. With Sean’s return, everyone’s spirits had been considerably lifted, and for one night, nobody was thinking about Blackwater. For one night, everyone was happy.

Javier’s sweet voice carried on a soft breeze, filling Hosea with a sense of peace as he sat on a nearby picnic table to watch the scene in front of him without being a part of it. Much of the gang had already gone to sleep, leaving just a few left by the campfire. Arthur, Charles, Lenny, Micah, Bill, and Javier all sat in a small circle with variations of bottles and cigarettes in hand. 

For a moment, Hosea’s unease, which had been consistently fluctuating since a little before Blackwater, washed over him again. They needed a good, solid plan, but Dutch didn’t have one, no matter what he said. Hosea figured he was still pretty rattled from their losses, and he wanted to check on him, but Dutch often waved him away. It was something he always struggled with. He never wanted to talk about himself when he had all of these people to look after. Hosea admired it about him, but he also truly worried about him.

The unease slowly dissipated as applause filled the air, replacing the song that had just ended. Bill began praising Javier, but Hosea’s attention was completely on Arthur now, noticing a difference from a few moments before.

His expression was somewhat uncomfortable, his body stiff, and the reason was obvious. Lenny, perhaps at some point during the song, had leaned himself against Arthur’s arm, no doubt the alcohol running through his body making him unable to fight off the sleep that came for him. For a moment, Hosea considered walking over there to help Arthur out, wake the poor boy so he could go to bed, but when no one else was looking, Arthur slung an arm around Lenny’s shoulders, supporting his smaller frame against him. 

As the fire flickered, Hosea could have sworn he saw a smile on Arthur’s face. Just as quickly as he saw it, it was wiped away as Micah, Bill, and Javier stood up, the former scoffing at the sight. “Look at’chu, Morgan. I knew you was gettin’ soft. And for Lenny? Here, I’ll shove him off for you, since I’m such a nice feller -”

“Hands off, Micah,” Arthur hissed, which stopped the man in his tracks. Bill and Javier exchanged a surprised look. Charles attempted to suppress a smile. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. It’s your own fault he don’t like you.”

Micah grinned, chuckling as he threw his hands up in a dramatized surrender motion. “Oooh, feelin’ feisty tonight. Don’t you scare the boy off, now, Morgan, he may throw up on your boots.”

Javier whistled, and Bill nudged his shoulder, grinning. “If any feller fell asleep on Micah, he wouldn’t wake up in the mornin’.”

From where he sat on the other side of Arthur, Charles rolled his eyes. “Would you just drop it? Go to bed, all of you. You’re drunk.”

“‘M not gonna do anything you say -” Micah slurred, pointing a heavy finger in Charles’ direction, but the other two exchanged another look. There wasn’t going to be a fight, not during a party, not even during the last hours of it.

Javier nudged Micah forward. “C’mon, amigo , we’ll play some poker tomorrow.” Bill followed.

Quiet fell. Hosea watched the three men make their way to their tents, then slid his gaze back to the remaining three. Their voices were much quieter now, but he could still hear some of it.

“Thank you, Charles.” Arthur sounded tired as he carefully removed Lenny’s hat, setting it down on the log beside him.

“Any time.” 

Hosea smiled to himself, his heart bursting the same way it had that night all those years ago. He and Dutch had raised this boy the best they could - they hadn’t given him a great life, but they’d given him as good a life as they could manage. More than anything, Hosea loved seeing how big his heart had become, how much he was opening it to others; Lenny, like Hosea did for Arthur all that time ago, and Charles, perhaps in the unspoken way Hosea and Dutch cared for each other.

The jingle of spurs filled the silence that followed, and although he knew who it was, Hosea still looked over his shoulder at the man, not bothering to hide the fact that he was still smiling, unable to hold in the fondness he was feeling. Dutch, raising a brow, stopped just before the table. “Haven’t seen your eyes sparkle like that in a while, Mr. Matthews. What’s goin’ on?”

Hosea chuckled, the formality of it still so endearing as he turned his gaze toward the three men still left by the campfire. “Just…feelin’ proud of our boy, is all.”

Quietly, Dutch slid in to sit next to Hosea on the bench, following his gaze. Charles and Arthur still spoke to each other quietly while Lenny slept away, no doubt comforted by the closeness of his companions. Dutch smiled, wordlessly placing an arm around Hosea’s shoulder, confident of the darkness of night that shrouded them from prying eyes.

Hosea leaned his head against Dutch’s shoulder, and everything was right with the world.

[thedailybullshit]

RDR2 Incorrect Quotes pt. 21

Susan: Are you a top or a bottom?

Dutch: I’m a threat.

Hosea, not looking up from the paper: He’s a bottom.

Young Dutch: And I want to find a blonde in a red scarf.

Young Dutch: . . .

Young Dutch: I mean, a specific one. I didn’t just wake up this morning with a craving.

Letters to Tacitus Kilgore:

Hosea: What state are you in?

Arthur: Constant anxiety.

John: Denial.

Dutch: Perfection.

Susan: Texas . . .

Dutch: Can you describe the man who tried to shoot you?

Josiah: Well he wasn’t very friendly, let me tell you -

Micah: They’re not allowed to do that. It’s against the rules.

Arthur: It’s also against the rules to let a snake join the Gang

Arthur: and yet here you stand.

Hosea: Get a life.

Dutch: Make one with me, you coward.

Hosea: Fine.

Dutch: Wait, really?

Getting Arrested While Getting To Know Each Other:

Dutch: Have you ever been handcuffed before?

Hosea: Sexually or by law enforcement?

Dutch:

Hosea: To be honest, I’ve been both.

John: How do I make a date more romantic?

Hosea: Try being mysterious.

John: Got it.

~Later On Said Date~

Abigail: So where are we going?

John: None of your fucking business.

Arthur: *gets shot in the leg*

Lenny: Are you okay?!

Arthur: I’m fine, just tired, haha.

Hosea: This is the land of your people.

Dutch: This is not THE LAND. This is Lemoyne.

[allzelemonz]

Warm Welcome: Micah Bell X Gender Neutral Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Reference to sex Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, reunited, post-Guarma, mentions of cannon character deaths, confessions of love Summary: Micah is the first to find the group after Guarma and he’s been thinking about you for weeks.

When news hit that the robbery went bad you weren’t completely surprised. You and Sadie got everyone out of camp as quickly as possible, finding Charles and a new home. Sadie left a note behind, coded so only one of you would understand it. Between Abigail and Charles’ accounts of the job everyone pieces things together. Whispers circulate as people try to figure out why things really went wrong. Dutch, Javier, Micah, Bill, and Arthur are central parts of the group and are sorely missed. Getting the bodies of your fallen friends would have been much easier with the others here, but you manage.

Just as things really start to look bleak and people are starting to lose hope, you spot something in the distance. You’ve taken the late watch for the past few days, finding peace it it despite the creepy nature surrounding you. Nothing is ever there, nothing of note. But tonight there is a rider on the path. A lone rider coming into camp and you’re the only one awake.

You raise your rifle. “Who’s there?”

The rider stops a few yards from you, dismounting. “Now is that any way to greet your ol’ pal Micah?”

He walks into the light of the lanterns. It is, in fact, Micah. His face is sunburnt, his hair is dried out, and his clothes are ragged, but it’s Micah.

“You’re alive?” You say, lowering your rifle. “What happened?”

He sighs. “I was gone for weeks and all you got is questions?”

“Welcome back, Micah.” You say, mockingly. “Where the hell were you?”

“Ya really know how ta charm a fella.” He says, stepping closer. “We was stuck on an island, nearly died.”

“We found Lenny and Hosea, is everyone else okay?”

“They’re fine.” He clears his throat. “Ya know, cowpoke, all that time got me thinkin’.”

“Don’t you want to go see everyone?” You ask. “Nevermind, I know you don’t care.”

He chuckles. “There’s only one thing I been thinkin’ about since I washed up on that island.”

You shoulder your rifle, giving him a curious look. He steps forward, further into the light, and you can see more of his rough state. His shirt is halfway buttoned and the skin underneath is settling into a tan as the sunburn peels away. He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him.

“Jeez, Micah.” You sigh. “You okay?”

“I will be in a minute, Darlin’.”

He closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours, his hands cupping your face and holding you in place. His lips are chapped, badly, and his hands are tough with calluses. He leans into the kiss, putting all of that pent up thought from his time on the island into it. He only lets you go once he needs to breathe, holding your forehead against his as you both take much needed breaths.

“That was a much better welcome, cowpoke.” He presses a short kiss to your lips and hums as he lets his hands fall to his sides.

“That’s all you could think about?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a few steps back. “Oh, I thought about plenty more, but we got time for all that later.”

It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts and refocus. “I’ll, uh, I’ll show you where they put your stuff.”

You turn and walk towards the main house, tip-toeing around the others to grab Micah’s bag and a cup of water. He takes the water from you first, chugging it with a sigh. You hand him the bag and he takes it, opening it right away to get at his hat which he places on his head.

“The washing barrel is around the corner.” You say. “You wanna see the others or do you still not care?”

He chuckles, digging through the bag for his usual clothes. “I’d much rather stay out here with you, Darlin’.”

A shiver goes through you. “Just don’t distract me from watch.”

He steps closer and presses his lips to yours again. “I ain’t promisin’ anything, darlin’.”

You steady your breath as he steps away and disappears around the corner towards the washing barrel. The relief finally comes over you, knowing that your friends are alive and on their way home. Things might finally get back on track.

[melissa-kenobi]

Just a lil bit tipsy

[Arthur Morgan x Reader]

***

The whole gang was throwing one of their famous parties and guess who was right at the center of it all?

Arthur fuckin' Morgan.

Now he wasn't a fan of parties or getting drunk, but today your husband was refusing not to participate. He was completely drunk off his head, swaying round and round with the women while holding a bottle of rum in his hands. His moves were making you and Hosea laugh as he grabbed Lenny's hand and jumped up and down on the spot before taking a swig of his drink.

"In all my years Arthur and I have been married, I've never seen him this relaxed or carefree." You mused, watching as he pulled Tilly up and danced with her, or well stomped over her feet making you let out a giggle.

Hosea laughed beside you, agreeing. "He's always carried the weight of others on him. But you've taught him otherwise." He grabbed you hand squeezing it in thanks. "Without you, he'd never have let go. He'd still be that stoic young boy I've known since he was 15."

Hosea's words made a lump form in your throat and you could feel yourself tearing up. Pulling Hosea in a hug you silently thanked him, knowing that you'd made a difference for Arthur made you happy.

"Hey! Whatchu 'ink your doin' with ma wife?" Arthur slurred as he squinted his eyes at you and Hosea hugging.

"Uh oh." Hosea commented laughing as he pulled away. "I think-

"Darling, I think you've had a little too much to drink." You commented.

"Hey, 'm not drunk. Just a lil' bit tipsy..." He mumbled more to himself as he took a chug of his drink.

Arthur had already made his way closer and was standing in front of you two, offering Hosea a drink to supposedly drive you away from his wife. "C'mere sweetheart.." He pulled you up and dragged you to the middle where Dutch's gramophone was playing loudly and offered you a sip of his drink.

"I'm good sweetie." You gestured to your stomach to which Arthur 'oh' ed at and let a smile grace his face. You watched as he bent down, stumbling on the way down but managed to hold himself on one knee. "Arthur what are y-

"Shhh darlin'... I needa talk to my babies." He mumbled as he pressed an ear to your protruding belly. Your eyes widened at his use of word 'babies'. You were pretty sure that you were having just the one. "Hey little ones, i- 'm gonna make sure we gots a lil' house fer me, yer mum and you little ones."

Your eyes darted around as Arthur whispered, well loudly whispered what be wanted for you and his kids- sorry kid. Hosea and Susan was watching with gentle and adoring eyes, while the others were shocked that Arthur was talking aloud about his plans.

"Arthur-

"I know mama- just a little longer." He looked up at your with loving eyes. "I hope you know, I'm gonna take such good care of ya. Me and yer mama love ya both so much."

Your eyes began to fill up with tears at his words. "Hey, 'm finished now. Sweethear', why yer cryin'?"

Giggling, you wiped your tears pulling Arthur up and pulling him into a hug. "I'm fine darlin', I'm fine, I promise."

Arthur pulled back, a huge smile on his face as he grabbed one hand and raised it to the air. "Dance with me?"

"Arthur! I-I don't- I can't- I don't know how to!" You stuttered, looking around at everyone watching. The music had died down and everyone was now watching you two.

"Dutch! Play some something louder! I wanna dance with ma wife!" Arthur called out as Dutch laughed and played something more to Arthur's tune. "That's more like it!"

Hand still clasped together in the air, he started dancing around you, before Arthur pulled you towards him, his other hand holding your back. You let out a little squeal as the gang let out a loud cheer and whoop. "Arthur!"

"Waheey, looks like the old man still got 'em moves!" Sean hollered as he let out a wolf whistle.

He spun you around before slowly dipping you and kissing you on the lips before pulling you back up. "I love ya Mrs Morgan."

"And I love you more than anything Mr Morgan."

Hosea watched as the music slowed down, changing to the slower romantic tone as the two of them swayed with the music. Arthur watching his wife with a lovesick look on his face, while you watched with the same look. They surely were two fools in love. Hosea knew they were two peas in a pod and that he'd help help get the happy ending they needed.

***

[strawberrymilkcart]

RDR2 MODERN AU/BAND AU?!

ik ive seen some ppl do this au. so i decided to put my own hcs and thoughts on it too.

Arthur, John and Tilly were all adopted by Dutch and Hosea - all three of them were foster kids.. getting into trouble and stuff.

Dutch and Hosea arent..a thing. Theyre friends but they both agreed that they should both raise those three children together. (not gay at all)

They had the help of Susan - who was Dutch's ex/fling/friend(?? its complicated) to help raise the children as well.

Arthur is a printmaker; he's acquaintances with Albert and Charles Châtenay because of this (probably met in an art class or gallery)

John is inbetween jobs rn. lol.

Tilly, Karen, Mary-Beth, Lenny and Sean are all college students. Tilly is most likely a business or legal studies major. Karen is a undecided major, she's just there for the parties. Mary-Beth is a English Major, Lenny is studying Philosophy; planning to get into Law School. Sean is a Communications major, he's also there for the parties.

Javier works at a music store, he has a history degree but he isnt sure what to use the degree for. He enjoys music but would like to be a historian or possibly work in a museum.

Bill is a construction worker (? unsure about this tbh. may change later)

Bill is still in the closet and has internalized homophobia :(

Hes on grindr alot

Bill and Alden may be a thing...?

Javier, Arthur, John, Bill and Sean are all in a band. (yes chaotic mixture😭) Javier is lead singer/guitarist. Arthur is occasionally back-up singer and rhythm guitarist. John is keyboardist. Sean is bassist while Bill plays drums.

They argue alot when it comes to the band... they usually practice in the basement, so whenever they fight ..Hosea comes down and tells them to stfu.

John and Abigail arent married(yet)😞 shes his baby mama and he refuses to give her child support bc he thinks Jacks not his and hes not ready to be a dad.

Abigail currently works as a waitress. She and John met at a party. She wanted to go to college but got pregnant before she could even attend.

Arthur is in a complicated relationship with Mary. They are constantly on and off. They hook up, they talk, argue then ghost. Repeat.

However, Charles Smith and Arthur also have a complicated relationship. Arthur isnt sure who he wants to be with...Mary, Charles or Charlotte. He and Charles are close friends but he's not sure if he should tell Charles how he feels.

Charles likes him back tho but he's too afraid to confess.

Charles works as a carpenter.

Whenever the band performs, Dutch invites everyone he knows (Susan, Pearson, Strauss, Uncle, Swanson, Trelawny, etc) to come and see. Tilly also drags Marybeth, Karen and Lenny to come see. ^^ Hosea is there ofc. He's usually the first one to arrive.

[sushisocks]

omg imagine if sean got his own game like about his childhood and ending just before he met dutch and hosea with a full soundtrack and developed characters THAT WILL COMPLETE ME

God, Anon, what I wouldn't give for ANY MORE INFORMATION about Sean and what his life was like prior to the gang. His timeline & backstory has so many vague elements to them, to the point that parsing some things are REALLY hard (I think I definitely can say it's fucking hard, given the amount of research I've done to answer some asks abt his background before!!).

But for me, a big part of Sean's appeal is the -- unfulfilled potential? Which is obviously part of the POINT with both his & Lenny's deaths (Lenny moreso, but I digress), but I've always been drawn towards characters with a lot of unanswered questions left in their wake and we don't even actually know Sean's AGE.

So like, YES OBVIOUSLY, if a game revolving around Sean was ever released, I'd fucking die, yall would see insanity on this blog like never before. I'd be posting like a bitch in heat! Though do I think a game abt Sean is likely? Of course not. And do I want one? Well, not necessarily?

For one I don't know how a game focused on Sean's backstory would fit into the themes of the Red Dead series, nor am I sure such a game would be as emotionally fulfilling or have the same kind of impact when we already KNOW where he ends up and what happens to him. (Sidenote; this is sort of why I'm not necessarily hankering for a RDR3 focused on the gang in the early days. A prologue to the prologue feels in many ways redundant.) Obviously I'd still be FERAL if R* decided to do a game about him anyway, but I'd be SUPER curious as to how they worked around these aspects of his story.

What I REALLY want is literally just like. A booklet with more information about him. But not so much that it ruins what I find fun about him, if that makes sense? I don't necessarily WANT to know his exact age when he died, but I DO want to know what age he was when he came to America, or how long he stayed in reform school.

ALTERNATIVELY a DLC with even more missions with him or content about him in ch2/3 would be much appreciated. I've been putting off going to see him in RDO because I know I need to be like -- ready for it, lol.

I WOULD LOVE more soundtracks dedicated to him though 🙃 And maybe more info about the people in his life who were important to him prior to the gang, besides his dad. (Ive been thinking a lot about that RDO line when you first meet him, where he says he lost the gang because he went off killing a guy he owed a killing to. WHO IS THIS GUY???? WHAT DID HE DO FOR SEAN OF ALL PEOPLE TO HUNT HIM DOWN????? I have my thoughts and theories but ohh my god this one haunts me man.)

ANYWAY Thank u anon, I hope u don't mind me using this ask as another opportunity to rant, because that's obviously ALL I DO LMAO

[moonah-rose]

Saw a tiktok that said "People need to realise Arthur only stays with the gang because cult indoctrination." and...just...

Yes, you are partly right in that Dutch is very much a cult leader masquerading as a father figure. Yes he indoctrinates Arthur and others with a "Don't think, just do" mentality.

But I just feel like reducing "the gang is just a cult" removes so much nuance and beauty of the game and the found family. Firstly the gang is not just Dutch and honestly assuming that is ironically feeding into what Dutch would want people to think! The fact that the gang's downfall comes with so many deaths of its most loveable characters - Sean, Lenny, Hosea, Susan, Arthur, possibly even Jenny and the Callander boys considering how missed they were - for me shows how it was the people who made the gang, it was the ones who really did treasure it as a family.

Arthur, Hosea and Susan especially saw themselves as parents and caretakers. They had opportunities to leave but stayed, yes partly loyalty (indoctrination) to Dutch but also because of how much they wanted to care for others in the camp. Arthur specifically tells Mary that he can't leave with her yet because "he's got people to take care of first." You could put some blame on Dutch for installing this belief in Arthur for why he is needed but I honestly think he, like Hosea and Susan, do it because they are loving people and you can see how deeply their adopted children/siblings love them in return (even if it does feel underappreciated).

Thing is I'm not anti-Mary by any means, she's a decent character but I just don't see much chemistry between her and Arthur to root for them as a ship - but I understand the purpose she serves and also as a mirror to both Hosea x Bessie and John x Abigail. But for me Arthur's true love of his life is the gang - NOT just Dutch, as is clear by the end, but his brothers and sisters who don't turn on him. So it never semed on the cards that Arthur would leave them for Mary, unless there was a feel that they would be safe without him. I also just dislike the narrative of "traditional cishet nuclear family >>> unconventional found family" as a trope. Like it would have been cool to see either Charles or Sadie form their own gang in contrast to the Marston's ranch life, except this gang is more true to Dutch's ideals and helping people rather than just criminals.

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 25

“And then maybe I should add a love triangle somewhere in the middle right?”

“Oh I don’t know. Those are outdated and cliche if you ask me”

Mary-Beth was telling you about this new love story she was planning to write and she needed your input.

When you told her that love triangles were played out nowadays she looked a little disappointed in your answer.

“Oh but it’s your story Mary-Beth you put whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to take a liking to it” you put your arms up

Mary-Beth slapped your arm and went back to her writing.

“Oooh Y/n have I got some news for you” Lenny approached and he looked excited. Then again, he was pretty young and had his whole life ahead of him. It was normal for him to be excited about many things.

“So I was talk in’ around with the colored folk of Rhodes and there was talk of a place with lots weapons”

You raised your eyebrow and sipped your coffee.“Don’t we already got enough of that?”

“And money” Lenny added rubbing his fingers together.

You immediately shot up upon hearing that.

“Arthur let’s go!”

Arthur had just came back from a fishing trip but you were sure he wouldn’t back down on some money.

“Huh where we goin’?”

“I don’t really know myself but Lenny hear said there’s talk of money and weapons somewhere ain’t that right Leonard?”

“That’s right Arthur we better hurry before someone else gets it” Lenny said racing to his horse.

“Now hold on. You said there was TALK of there being money. How you know them folks wasn’t just gossiping?”

“What’s gossip worth if it’s free?” you asked.

Arthur just sighed and shook his head “She’s got a point�� he whispered to himself, climbing back up on his horse after tying it up not even 5 minutes ago.

-

After a good ride and a witty conversation you guys finally made it to a place called Shady Belle. Lenny suspected those were where the guns were especially since there people guarding the place despite it looking abandoned.

“Well Lenny looks like someone did make it here before us”

“Well we can take care of this easy peasy” Arthur said pulling out his Bolt Action from his horse pouch.

You guys were able to take out the guards no problem just like Arthur said. Your main concern though is if the merchandise got caught within the gunfire.

You were searching beyond the dead bodies for the guns. Or the money. Or both. Before coming across a wagon with a box. You lifted up the lid and found a pile of brand new rifles.

“Thank god for black people” you whispered shaking your head.

“What was that? You found the guns?” Arthur came behind you.

“Yup. Anybody order a dozen fresh rifles?” You said holding the gun up.

“Perfect let’s take these back to Dutch!” Lenny clapped his hands.

-

“Arthur, Y/n, you’ve done it again” Hossa chuckled looking at the guns “and of course you did a fine job Lenny”

“Arthur come on let’s go. Me and Micah are on our way to this O’Driscoll hide out, you need to come with us” dutch came around already ordering Arthur as soon as he can me back”

“Uh ok. You comin Y/n?”

“Nah I think I’ll just stay here. Been a long day”

Arthur squeezed your hand and went off with dutch and Micah.

-

Arthur had gone to the hideout several hours ago. The sun was already down.

“I swear to god Hosea if something doesn’t come up soon I’m gonna lose my mind”

“Just calm down. Come on. This Arthur we’re talking about. The boy’s too damn stubborn to get himself killed” The older man tried to calm you. “now he might fuck around and fall off a cliff but someone actually taking Arthur Morgan’s life? They’d have to be Hercules”

Hosea rubbed your shoulders to try and calm you down.

But then you saw Dutch.

“Where is he? You better tell me something I swear to god”

“Now just listen-“ he began.

“Don’t tell me to just listen where’s Arthur?”

“Well.. they got him”

Your immediately dropped to your ankles.

“Now when he says that. He doesn’t mean death. It’s just that they literally have him… like hostage” Micah explained.

“Oh my god” you said in disbelief but quickly turned to anger. “And where were you huh!?” You started hitting Dutch’s chest while tears were spilling from your eyes.

“Y/n I promise we’ll look for him later it’s just too risky now” he tried to calm you.

You were feeling a little weak from all the stress so you just had to sit down. But that did not mean that you caught any rest.

You had no idea how late it was in the night but you were sure the sun would be coming up anytime soon.

That’s when you heard the sound of a horse in the distance. You looked off into the trees a silhouette. Just from his shadow alone you could tell it was Arthur.

“Arthur!”

He came into camp and as soon as he got off the horse he collapsed.

“Arthur came back! He needs help!”

Everyone came rushing out to help you get him up onto his bed.

“God I’m sorry dear boy. I’m so sorry”

“It’s too late for apologies Dutch, look at him!”

You rubbed the side of Arthur’s face lovingly “are you ok? Please tell me didn’t hurt you too bad”

He just nodded his head and leaned into your touch, too tired to speak.

-

Arthur had recovered from his injuries and the gang was back to normal.

You saw him looking off to the distance with some coffee in his hand when you approached him.

“Arthur?”

“Hey there darlin’. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your cheek”

“You feel better?”

“Yea. I really appreciate you staying by my side during my healing process. Meant a lot to me”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just- you’ve always cared so much for me. I’ve known you almost my whole life and we’ve always looked out for each other. I guess what I’m tryna say is.. I appreciate you”

“Yea you just said that you fool” you slapped his chest.

“No i- shit..”

Arthur put the journal back in his satchel and pulled out something else. It was a ring. And it had a beautiful diamond on it.

“I wasn’t sure how I was gonna do this but here I am. Y/n, will you make me the happiest man ever by being my wife so that I can have you for the rest of my life?”

“Arthur..” you couldn’t believe this is happening. I mean you always knew you were gonna marry Arthur but this was just so surreal to you. You looked into his eyes to see if he was being for real. And he was.

“Yes Arthur I’ll be your wife”

[themastermarkus]

RDR2 - Micah and Lenny in Chapter 4

In my current playthrough of Red Dead Redemption 2, I'm in Guarma, lamenting the fact that so much of this section of the game feels like it's been cut out since it would provide an interesting liminal space for Arthur to interact with members of the gang on a personal level in the aftermath of the Saint Denis bank heist. —But what I really wanted to discuss was the one small moment of this that we do get to see: when Arthur talks to Micah about Lenny and Hosea. Micah says that Hosea was dying anyway (understandable, as they were never on good terms) but in regards to Lenny he says "Well... You know what they say about pride before a fall..." This comment about Lenny struck me as kind of strange because Micah barely ever talks to or about Lenny and prompted me to think about how both characters were presented, particularly in Chapter 4.

Both Micah and Lenny have stagecoach robbery companion activities and they sharply show the differences in their characters. Lenny is very confident that he got good information on a barely protected coach, to the point that he wanted to go alone, and had Arthur not insisted on going with him, Lenny probably would've been arrested or died there. The take is $102.50; decent, but not worth fighting several guards and U.S. Marshals for. Micah is casually confident about the job, but he brings Arthur and Bill along. He found out about the job by paying off a guy who he later kills to get back the money and not leave a trail. The take altogether is $305 for a stagecoach that probably didn't even need three people to take it. Now, these scenarios are not surprising (Lenny is much younger and hasn't even shown himself to be especially interested in violent crime while Micah is a career criminal since practically childhood) but I find it interesting that they're both in Chapter 4, which contains multiple story missions involving Lenny being on jobs with Dutch. When Dutch tells Arthur about the trolley station job at the beginning of "Horsemen, Apocalypses", Arthur suggests that they take Lenny with them, to which Dutch asks "Not Micah?" It's unclear if Dutch ever told Micah about the job, but regardless, he takes Arthur's suggestion and brings Lenny along (though funnily enough, the job unexpectedly ends up being one that Micah would have been best suited for). Then, surprisingly, Dutch doesn't bring Micah to raid Bronte's house in revenge and I can't think of why one of the gang's best shooters wouldn't be there. But you know who is there? Lenny, for some reason! I don't know if there was tension between Lenny and Micah (or Micah and Dutch) that was meant to be expanded on but was cut, or we're just supposed to intuit as much, but ultimately it feels like Micah's comment about Lenny's death in Guarma could be prompted by how Lenny was becoming more active in the gang, and was getting attention from Dutch in particular. Micah thinks Lenny was getting "too big for his britches" (overconfident, if you're not familiar with the phrase, though it's a kind of colloquialism I think Micah would use) and even though the statement was likely rooted in a bitter sense of jealousy, in a sad way this might be accurate, since Lenny died because he wasn't cautious during the Saint Denis bank heist when he ran off to find an escape route for the gang.

[bluebellhairpin]

Arthur Morgan X Reader

A/N: It’s only taken me a year to write something for my most favorite cowboy ever so hopefully it turns out good. - Nemo

Summary: Tension in the Van de Linde camp had been a long time coming. When that tension turns to a division at Beaver Hollow, you make your choice to stand with Arthur. For better - or worse. 

Warnings: Gore, Guns, and Blood. Character death. Language. Angst with no happy ending. Spoilers for the game, if you haven’t played yet. 

Listening to: ‘The Chain’ by Fleetwood Mac - “I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain.” 

Masterlist || Ko-fi || Event Masterlist

You’d known Arthur Morgan for a very long time. 

The both of you were very young when you’d been picked up by Hosea and Dutch, evidently joining the small, growing Van der Linde gang. 

Life of an outlaw wasn’t easy, and the times you wanted to give it up and go hide yourself away in some cabin were more than you could count on your fingers. But you stayed. These people were your family, your friends. You wouldn’t give up on them, no matter how difficult some of them made it to stay. 

But the person that kept you with the Van der Linde gang the most, was Arthur. It was always Arthur. Sure, others nestled into the care of your heart - Ms Grimshaw, Marybeth, Lenny, Abigail and little Jack - but he took up residence in that space long ago. 

Lately, though, that single tie keeping you with the gang was straining. Not because of Arthur himself, not really, but because tensions were rising in camp. People started disagreeing with the leadership - though never mentioned aloud - and everyone was so tired. 

Dutch said he had a plan, but even you were starting to wonder if he ever had one to begin with. No matter where you went, trouble followed. Laying low barely kept you safe for a few weeks - let alone long enough to gather enough money for Dutch to believe it was enough. 

Would it ever be enough?

With everyone pitching in - thefts; robberies on banks, coaches, trains, homesteads; hunting; errands; actual honest work - money should’ve been flowing into camp. But it wasn’t. You were never safe enough, and there was never enough time. Time was one thing Dutch kept seeking more of. 

Time, money and faith. 

But your faith was wearing paper-thin. 

Blackwater felt like the last straw, but it turned out to be the first part of the last straw. You didn’t know what you were waiting for, you were practically itching to leave it all behind, to actually start anew - without everyone else - but something always stopped you from following through. 

Loyalty, perhaps.

It surely was not Dutch’s speeches. 

But then more people died, and the wedge in the camp’s division pushed in further. It became clear some people wanted to leave - yourself included - while others kept belief in Dutch. For you, the turning point was the Saint Denis bank robbery. 

It went awfully wrong, and led to not just Lenny dying, but Hosea too. Once news returned to camp about the historical failure, Sadie sprung into action with Charles and moved everyone away from Shady Belle, but you decided to simply move away. You’d spoken to Charles before you left, leaving word with him about what to tell Arthur when - or if - he returned. What to do if he came back. 

Eventually they did come back, and Charles sent word to you about the return of the lost men. Guama they’d been, and returned acting different. Strange. The concept and idea of someone betraying the gang was on Dutch’s mind, and a finger was pointed at you when he returned and found you missing. Arthur, as kind-hearted as he denied being, was one who defended you, and after the Pinkerton attack on their camp you were no longer under question. 

You didn’t even know where their camp would’ve been to send the agents to. 

Word travelled to you continuously, bless Charles, and so you found out about the gang’s second move to Beaver Hollow. When word stopped, that’s when you got worried. Was Charles okay? Was the gang okay? 

So you packed a bag and left. To go back. You were met with your old friends, old family, hoping to find good news, but instead found them pointing guns at each other. 

“What the hell are you fools doing?” you yelled, walking cautiously towards the group. “I know you all have your differences but we’ve never gone about shooting each other for it.” 

“And you’d know? You left!” 

And so guns were pointed at you. As quickly as they all turned, they all scattered. In your confusion, you simply followed your gut. So you followed Arthur. 

“I’ve killed for you, Arthur. I’ve killed protecting you.'' You said, “If you think I’m going to stop doing that because you want to be a hero and send both of us away then you’re wrong. I’d do anything for you, and that includes staying here. Right now, you need me more than John does.” 

“Then you're sick.” he said, “No, insane, that’s what you are.”

“Yeah I’m insane. You��ve taken all the sickness for yourself. Look at you Arthur, barely standing on your own - say how fast do you think you’d react if Micah pulled a fast one on you, huh?” 

You could tell Arthur was trying to block out your arguing, wanting you to leave with John rather than stay, barely paying you any attention until you mentioned his draw skill. 

“Are you doubting me?” he asked, turning from the rocks to you. 

“Yes.” you said, bowing your head in earnest, “And that doubt will continue until this is over, or you drop dead. I’d rather it be the former than the latter, which is why I’m staying with you.” 

“No, you ain’t.”

“You can’t stop me!” 

“You’re gonna get both of us killed.”

“The only way I'm going down is if they get me in my sleep, and I don’t intend on sleeping for a long while yet.” You turned away to reload your revolver. “So quit acting heroic, be a sad bastard for once, and stop arguing with me about this.”  

“I’ve always been a sad bastard.” You smiled at him.

“No, you ain’t.” 

You’d never seen so many Pinkertons in one place before. You’d never killed so many before either. The whole stand-off/fight was going rather well in your opinion, all things considered. 

All up until you got shot. 

Once on your front.

Once in the back. 

You stumbled back, tripping over your own feet. The first thing you saw when you turned to fall was Micah lunging at Arthur. Then gravity kicked in, pushing you over the cliff face and down onto the ledge below. 

Half the reason Arthur was holding so well in this gunfight was because of you, in a fistfight in this sick state he’d die. You knew that much. Even with the burning in your chest, ribs - heart - and the warmth seeping onto your shirt, you knew that Arthur would be a dead man without your help. 

You’d started a long walk - but no that was too painful - a long crawl back to where Arthur was, only for both him and Micah to tumble down to the ledge, not five feet away from where you first landed. Leaning up against the rocks, you fumbled at your side for your gun, only to realize you’d dropped it back before you fell. 

You had no way to help unless you got in and made a nuisance of yourself. 

Ironic. 

Micah always said you were more trouble that you were worth. 

Watching them tussle, you reached down, wincing at the stretch of your wounds, and pulled a knife from your boot. If you aimed right, you could throw it at Micah and give Arthur the chance he needed. 

You could feel the energy drain from your body with every drop of blood that stopped running through your veins. If you didn’t act soon you’d be too weak to get in a good enough throw. So you pushed off the wall, standing straight, took in a deep breath, and threw the blade right into the side of Micah’s right thigh. 

It didn’t stick, but went through with a clean cut. A viable enough distraction for Arthur to break away and sock his opposition right in the jaw. 

Unable to see past the blurring of your own eyes, you sunk to the floor, legs turning as weak as twigs under your own weight. You clutched your front, legs kicking out in front of you, and your head nodded down so you could watch yourself bleed out between your fingers. 

You could barely tell what was going on anymore, with such a heavy head and your ears starting to feel like they’d been stuffed with cotton, and everything was feeling too hot. You only shifted after you saw someone approach you, giving you a wide berth to move towards the two men. 

“Enough.” He said. It was Dutch. “That’s enough.” 

You’d have spat on him if you could. It had been enough a long time ago. Nothing he could say could reverse what had been done. Stopping this feud now was practically pointless. It wouldn’t give him his money, or bring anyone back from the dead. 

You hoped, as he walked away without a glance at you, that he’d never forget this day. That if you died here and now, that you’d get the chance to haunt him. Even if only for a short while, before you went to burn in hell. 

A hand landed on your leg.

“Arthur,” you started softly.

“Don’t talk,” he rasped, coughing as he pulled himself to lay next to you. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Says you.” 

“I knew you was a fool, staying.” He said, finally settled. “Didn’t think you was so big of a fool to get yourself shot. Twice.” 

“I knew I was.” Both your voices were getting weaker. Quieter. You were both on the precipice of death and you both knew it. 

“How?”

“I knew if it wasn’t Father Time, that got me, I’d end up dying for you, Arthur.” you turned, taking in his beaten and sickly face. “I may not have known it, but I guess I’d vowed a long time ago, to stick to you, ‘till death do we part.” 

“You deserved better than this.” You let go of your wounded stomach, taking his hand in yours and holding onto it with all the might you had left. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize sooner. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I’m not.” you said. “There's few things I’d change, about how I lived my life, but sticking to you, Arthur, ain’t one of them.” You heard his breathing go shallow, even though his hold on your hand tightened. 

A moment's silence passed, and he shifted his head to look past you instead of at you. Now too weak to speak, his eyes told you to look instead. 

As you turned, your own eyes miraculously clearing one last time to let you see the rising sun, you felt his grip on your hand go slack. Cold fingers growing colder. 

You were tired. 

You’d known Arthur Morgan for a very long time, and the times you wanted to give up the life of an outlaw to go hide yourself away in some cabin were more than you could count on your fingers. 

But you stayed, because you didn’t really want that life. 

Not unless you had Arthur with you.

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 27: Rawhide

May 1899

Spider Gorge, Ambarino

The plan, Dutch kept saying.  Come up with another plan.  Tilly had heard Dutch and Hosea talking, when they thought nobody else would hear.

Whatever plan that was, Tilly didn’t know.  Only that it had been Blackwater, then a cave near Strawberry, then running north across–what, probably some more borders there, as they headed up into the mountains, finding more and more remote-looking and tortuous trails.  Sometimes ones that barely looked like a wagon could be driven across them at all.  Hosea admitted at one point that he had no idea whether they were in Ambarino or Owatonna, only somewhere near the border.  

They were in a position like that, being in some space between states.  In between places.  In between plans.  In between safe haven and disaster, waiting to see which way the sweep of the blade would cut.

In between life and death, for Jenny and Davey.  Though for Jenny, that had finally turned to the one way this morning.  They’d stopped here in this high-walled canyon to bury her, no matter that it took hours, even with the men taking turns in digging.

They’d buried her with little to say.  What was there to say?  She’d been a girl they’d found by the roadside last fall, exhausted and in need of help, having walked across half of Montana already.  

She’d been just seventeen, the youngest of them except for little Jack.  She was sweet and shy and had a ringing, beautiful laugh, somehow coupled with the croaky singing voice of a crow.  Pale blue-grey eyes and ink-dark hair, and the winter near Blackwater had put some flesh back on those too-skinny bones of hers.  

She’d loved Lenny, though Tilly was the only one besides them who’d known it wasn’t just Lenny having an unrequited spark for her.  Bad enough for him to want her.  That was no trouble in the gang, but out in the world?  Even him wanting her was dangerous enough and could have ended up with him dead.  If the world got the notion that a young pretty white girl loved a boy whose dark skin loudly proclaimed his parents had been slaves, who chose his company over any white boy…well.

She’d wanted her grave to have flowers, Jenny.  So only about fifteen minutes away, Tilly had taken a horse and ridden back to find her some, and Hosea had let her go.  They were sending out enough people on short rides as scouts that she could get away with it.  The sparse and eerily quiet funeral they’d given her had bothered him too, she could tell.  But what was there to say?  Sorry you died before you ever much lived.  Sorry you died after two days of pain getting jolted along in a wagon after getting shot in the gut doing–well, most of us don’t know exactly what happened, and those that do ain’t saying nothing.  The silence about that scared Tilly the most, perhaps.  She’d seen jobs go sideways before.  Never as catastrophically as this, true.  But even so, they grumbled, dusted themselves off, and carried on.  This fearful silence, along with Jenny dead, Davey dying, and Sean and Mac both missing, told her nothing would ever be quite the same.  

She stood there at the grave, seeing the splashes of color there.  She’d dug up what plants she could, pressing them there into the cool muddy ground, and they bravely stood there, fragile and beautiful and colorful.  Stood there and hoped the flowers, at least, would live.

The walls of the gorge rose steeply, one of unyielding granite and the other of unyielding ice.  But it wasn’t the chill of the ice she suddenly felt.  A cold wind, and she would have wanted to stay, but something in it told her to go.  The weather seemed to have come out of nowhere, clouds where she swore there had been none just an hour ago.  But here they were.  

By the time she reached where she’d split off from the wagons, the first snowflakes were falling.  She urged Lilybelle on.  She might not have grown up with the snow, but she’d endured enough of it since she’d been found by Hosea that she’d learned its danger.  And her shirtwaist and skirt for a spring day, with a light jacket thrown on as concession to the cooler mountain air, wouldn’t keep her through the snow if they got lost.  

She felt a stab of fear as she hurried on, balancing not pushing too recklessly on treacherous paths versus the risk of losing their trail entirely beneath the rapidly-falling snow.  Felt the lash of the ice that came along with the snow, the wind whipping it into a sort of stinging cold frenzy that would scour any exposed hide it found, human or animal, raw and red.

The good news, she supposed, was that the gorge meant there wasn’t much place for them to go other than along its length, so all she had to do was follow.  But she didn’t know how long the gorge was, and after it opened up, she could lose them all too easily.  She surged on and on, trying to keep her head clear as much as she could, to make what time she could.  

She found them still in the gorge just as the light started fading, as it did early in the mountains, and even more so in these sheer, steep walls.  Found them already all bundled up in winter gear they’d put away six weeks ago in Blackwater, and found Karen had dug out Tilly’s scarf, gloves, and coat as well.  Gratefully bundling herself into them, she ended up sitting in the wagon with Abigail and Davey, grimly judging that they’d be burying him soon too.  If they could get through the snow.

They might all be dead within the week, the way this was going.  She felt Abigail’s hand touch hers, and she gripped the other woman’s fingers with all of her strength, knowing she must be scared to bits with John injured and dragging Jack through all of this.  “We’ll get by, Abigail,” she said in a low voice.  “We’ll get by.”  She said it as much to convince herself as Abigail.

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

You've Got Stars In Yer Eyes

Gay cowboys in space

Ship: Charles Smith/Arthur Morgan Rating: Mature Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, hurt/comfort, Arthur Morgan has TB (But gets better), Charles Smith is Protective, Sci-Fi medical nonsense, not canon compliant Summary:

Suffering from a bad case of TB and sure he's dying, Arthur Morgan boards a Colony Ship for the Western Frontier with the scattered remains of the Van der Linde Gang. Unfortunately, the doctor had neglected to turn on his antibiotic implant, so when he wakes from Cryostasis feeling much worse, he's convinced this is the end.

Thankfully, he's being overdramatic.

Fic Under Cut too

Layers, the doctor had prescribed. Like he was supposed to turn himself into a damn onion, so he had followed the doctor's order, bought a spot on the next Frontier Colony ship and fled like a damned coward. Even he could see where all of <i>that</i> was heading, even if it pained him to leave. Until he found himself in the prep rooms of said ship, holding a flimsy set of modesty-preserving clothes, staring at himself in the mirror. He'll have to buy a second locker just to store all of his clothes, not to mention the money he already spent on the space for his suitcase and checking his guns. At this rate, he'll be broke by the time he even makes it out to the western frontier.

It's for the best, he tells himself while beginning to strip down. He keeps his gaze firmly fixed on his boots in the chatter of the locker room, trying not to grumble to himself. He hadn't even bothered to check that Abigail and John had gotten on board with little Jack before Sadie pulled him onto their ship. He tries to remind himself that Hosea and Uncle are with them – that they'll keep them safe – but horror still licks at his mind, whispering that Micah could have easily tailed them. Who would have known that rat would have given Dutch over to the law? They should have gone after him, but what were they supposed to do when they barely mustered up enough of a distraction to pull Hosea away from the Pinkertons? Thank God Lenny had remembered to bring the med kit, or they would have lost both of the old guard that day.

"Oi, Arthur! You gonna get ready or just stare at yerself like a ghost?" Sean chuckles nervously next to him, nudging his shoulder.

"You could have gone ahead without me," Arthur huffs, suddenly drawn back into the locker room that smells heavily of antiseptic.

"And leave you? Oh no! Sadie would have my head – don't want to anger her; she's got enough on her hands with Molly anyway," Sean continues on, already dressed in his blue spacer uniform. Arthur can see the modesty slip peeking out from underneath his collar.

"Ya just gonna ogle me while I undress then?" Arthur gruffs, dumping his second shirt onto the bench.

"Nah, nah, I don't swing that a way," Sean backpedals, staring up at the ceiling. "Just wanna make sure you don't – you know." He makes a popping noise with his mouth.

"I ain't that weak," Arthur bristles as he tugs the modesty shirt on.

"Sure you ain't! That's not what I meant. Just don't wanna lose you in the crowd, is all," Sean shrugs, still talking to the ceiling.

Arthur grunts for lack of a better response and tugs his chaps off, hearing the alloy clink against the bench as he sets them down. Sean continues rambling on about losing him in the crowd and how they're finally heading out West. Thankfully, he minds his tongue and skirts around mentioning Dutch's name. The glare Arthur shoots him when he nearly does goes a long way. Eventually, Arthur's dressed in spacer blues and stuffing his clothes into a locker (thankfully, it fits into one once he burrito rolls a few garments). Sean follows him like a lost puppy dog as they make their way to the cryostasis chambers, listening to the assistant explain the procedure and what to expect. Arthur half listens, preoccupied with Hosea and Jack's wellbeing, as the assistant notes there are special procedures and spaces for the elderly and children. Hosea wasn't weak, but his cough still hasn't gone away. Thankfully Arthur can still pass as dead tired rather than dying, so there aren't extra questions or forms to fill out. Hopefully, Hosea is even allowed to proceed – Arthur can't imagine what would happen if they arrive and learn that they had left him a hundred years in the past with no way back. Even if it wasn't supposed to be too long, the ships will still be cannibalized for materials, giving them no way home. 

A one-way trip to his final resting place.

"A brighten up, ya look like someone shit in yer boots," Sean points out, elbowing him in the ribs as they make their way over to the cryostasis pods.

"Leave him be, Sean. We've all had a rough couple of days," Sadie chimes in, catching up with them. Molly trails behind her, curled in on herself in dismay.

"I'll be alright," Arthur dismisses the concern, turning his attention to Molly. "Come on, let's get you in a pod. It'll help when you don't have to worry about him no more."

"We're leaving him," she whispers quietly.

"I know, but we'll be alright. We have to be for him. He paid for our freedom with his life; we gotta make that worth somethin'," Arthur reminds her, speaking softly and gently guiding her to a pod with his hand on her shoulder.

"I can't leave him, Arthur," Molly echoes, leaning into him.

"We ain't got a choice, Molly. We'll be alright, I promise. We'll be alright," Arthur attempts to comfort her. He was never good at all of this, but he knew Dutch best. She needs someone who knew him best now more than ever, even after how he treated her in the past few months, even after everything. She had every right to mourn the loss with as much support as she requires.

He makes sure she's buckled in, and her stasis has been safely triggered before buckling himself in. The attendant comes around and checks everyone before triggering the full process. He tugs on Arthur's restraints for a moment, adjusting them slightly and makes a comment about the fresh air being good for him after seeing his eyebags. Then he freezes the row and sends them into storage. Arthur lets the cool chill of stasis fill his bones as he takes a sluggish breath, doing his best not to cough. Thankfully, he's under before his Tuberculosis decides to rear its ugly head.

<hr>

Everything hurts. His legs, his arms, his eyeballs, not to mention his ears are ringing, and the world is far too bright. As the cryostasis thaws around him, the overwhelming urge to cough rears its ugly head. He reaches for the cover of the cryostasis chamber, having already fumbled his buckles off, only to land face-first on the floor. He vaguely registers someone catching his fall and lowering him to the ground, but he could have easily caught himself. The world spins around him, coming in and out of focus as there's a rush of panic. He coughs and coughs, his chest heaving to expel fluid that isn't there. He's sure there's blood dribbling down his chin as he curls into a pathetic ball, clutching his sides. Damn, that antibiotic implant! The doctor had said it'd work during cryostasis, that he'd wake up fine and dandy. Leave it to him to get a faulty implant with no way of going back and demanding a refund. It hadn't been cheap, either; he'd almost been unable to afford his ticket on the ship just to pay for it – if Sadie hadn't given him a little extra, he would have been royally fucked. Yet, here he is, wasting it by dying on the cold floor of the cryostasis storage in a blue jumpsuit. He's vividly aware he's shaking from the cold, trying to curl in on himself further for warmth.

Something warm and soft presses against his face, the smell of antiseptic and plastic filling his nose as he struggles to breathe between coughs. "Breath," someone tells him with a voice like rumbling mountains that cuts through the panic around him. He does his best to comply as something sharp pierces his arm. The coughing subsides slowly, whatever medicine he was giving finally allowing him to peer at the blurry world around him. Kneeling over him, pressing a plastic mask to his face gently, is a dark-skinned man with jet-black hair. The sterile lights of the colony ship shine behind him, illuminating him like an angel. Maybe he is an angel come to take him away? Wouldn't that be something, to be free from this wretched life with gentle hands that could rival Heaven itself?

Wait.

No.

He's not – this isn't – if this is to be the angel that takes him away, this isn't right. <i>He</i> should be <i>She</i>. He's not gay. That is not what is happening right now. He does not find this man attractive, no matter how fast his heart is racing – his heart is only racing because he's dying! Yes. That is the perfectly logical explanation, and the lighting is not perfect, illuminating him in a halo of golden glow. He's just dying, and this poor sucker is just trying to prolong his life. No matter how pretty his eyes are.

"Hold this," the man says, pressing Arthur's hand to the mask.

He complies feebly, feeling his hand continue to tremble. The other man tosses a blanket over top of him as Arthur starts to hear Sadie attempting to calm Molly down while Sean explains to Javier and Bill what's going on. The other man drags a scanner over him, muttering to himself before draping a thermal blanket around his trembling body.

"Is his implant supposed to be off?" he asks over Arthur's body to the group of onlookers. 

"It's off?" Sadie panics, her attention snapping to him.

"I'll take that as no," Charles grunts, clicking something on the scanner. He addresses Arthur, hand on the edge of the blanket:

"I'm going to activate your implant. It'll be a slight pinch."

Arthur tries to fumble out something, but his lips feel cold and heavy, and his tongue feels entirely too large for his mouth. The man continues anyway, pulling the blanket back just enough to press the scanner against his side between two of his ribs. Arthur whimpers at the jolt of pain that rushes through his body, followed by the vague sensation of warmth quickly spreading through his body. Seemingly satisfied, the blanket is pulled back over him, and the other man packs up the emergency med kit.

As he's attempting to help Arthur to his feet, the attendant and assistant come rushing over with panicked looks. The assistant looks sheepish, refusing to meet anyone's gaze as she stares at the floor.

"We heard there was an emergency! What happened?" the attendant demands, looking from person to person for an explanation.

Sadie jumps in quickly before the attendant gets suspicious:

"My friend here had an implant to keep an eye on a dormant virus in his body. The cryostasis must have deactivated it, but we're alright now. He –"she points at the unnamed man – "acted quickly and reactivated it. It should be under control now."

"Ah, well, is it contagious?" the attendant asks, eyeing Arthur warily.

"No, no, nothing to worry about. He just always looks like this – we've known him for ages and never got sick. Doctor back at the station said even if it did awaken, it wouldn't be viral. We're good, promise," Sean adds, attempting to help.

"Very well… but I recommend visiting the town's doctor before heading out to your designated settlement location. Just to be on the safe side," the attendant looks like he wants to prescribe more, but someone calls for his assistance, and he quickly hurries off to help.

Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief as he disappears from sight. Arthur attempts to stand on his own and nearly lands face-first on the ground. Sean laughs, catching him with the other man's help and tossing Arthur's arm over his shoulders.

"Come on, big man, let's get yer clothes before ya decide ta make friends with the floor," Sean jokes, starting off toward the Men's Changeroom.

"Ya can't even carry crates in a shipyard. Ya can't carry me," Arthur protests, unintentionally dragging his feet as he stumbles forward.

"That's why I'm helping," the other man chimes in, still firmly holding his arm.

Arthur's head swims at the weight and warmth of his hand, trying desperately to shove every last thought down into the depths of his mind. He can't think of a solid argument to protest, moving with his head thick in the fog of this man's voice. So, he feebly lets them stumble forward together toward the Changerooms, the others following closely behind. All he can manage is to croak out:

"I never got yer name."

"You didn't tell me yours, either," the man points out, unintentionally dodging the question.

"Arthur," he answers faster than he should. He winces at the pain in his throat left by talking.

"It's nice to meet you, Arthur. I'm Charles," he informs him, smiling sweetly. Arthur could melt into that smile and stay there all summer – does this planet even have summer? Doesn't matter. He'd make a summer just to stay in Charles' smile… Platonically, of course.

"Well, it's nice ta meet ya, Charles! I'm Sean; the rest of 'em ya saw freaking out over Arthur nearly dyin' were Sadie, Molly, Javier and Bill – kind of a mixed bag of nuts if you ask me. But what colony are ya heading to? We could use someone who can act fast in a crisis, especially 'cause Arthur seems ta like ya," Sean suggests, butting into the conversation with a shit-eating grin.

Arthur tries to act like he doesn't light up like a Christmas tree, sputtering out his indignity at Sean's seemingly innocent implications. He didn't need a possible friendship – or at least acquaintanceship – ruined because of Sean's big mouth. He especially didn't need to make the guy helping carry him uncomfortable.

"I'm headed up to Mellow Hollow[IS1] ," Charles answers, humouring Sean's antics.

"Well, hold on just a moment! Shouldn't we be askin' Hosea before inviting people to join us?" Bill complains gruffly from behind them.

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind! Besides, we could use the extra manpower – and if Charles here is also heading up to Mellow Hollow, then it's the least we can do to travel together instead of letting him wander off by himself. Safer in groups, remember?" Sean argues over his shoulder.

"I'm a good hunter; if you're worried about me being dead weight," Charles adds. Arthur blinks at him, stupidly forgetting to hide his shock. Charles just shrugs at him.

"I still say we should ask Hosea," Bill grumbles.

"And we say you should stop drinking," Javier deadpans, picking the gunk out from under his nails.

Bill huffs, about to argue, when Sean loudly announces their arrival at the Changerooms. Arthur is sat down on a bench in the middle of the room as Sean fetches his clothes, unceremoniously dumping them in his lap. He does most of his dressing on the bench, staring down at the floor. Until Charles has him lift his arm while he's shirtless so he can check on his implant. Arthur tries not to stare at Charles' chest as the other man presses a scanner against his ribs and makes some sort of satisfied noise. He can hear his heart pounding, and he's certain Charles can hear it too. It terrifies him how off-balance Charles makes him feel, from the gentle touches to his strong frame inches from his face. He can see the swathe of dark hair carpeting his front and trailing down to his pants, swallowing thickly at the sight. He shouldn't be looking at this stuff. He isn't gay. Not in the slightest. He has no attraction whatsoever to men and never has. That one time with Albert Mason in the woods was just because the other man wanted to repay him, and they were in the middle of nowhere. Even if he can still taste him on his lips.

Charles moves away far too quickly, leaving Arthur to stumble through the buttons on his shirt and pull his jacket again, swaddling himself back into the layers from a hundred years ago. He feels entirely too cold and too hot at the same time, tugging the thermal blanket back over himself in an effort to keep warm.

"Can you stand?" Charles asks, coming over to check on him once he's fully dressed.

"I can try," Arthur grunts, taking Charles's hand to stand from the bench. He wobbles on his feet a little, but the ground doesn't immediately try to become his bed, so he takes it as a victory.

"Think I'm good."

"Alright," Charles says, nodding toward the exit. Sean, Bill and Javier have collected the last of their things, already going through check-out.

A hand hovers behind Arthur's back as he walks, and he can't bring himself to brush it away.

Charles offers to carry his satchel and saddle for him. Stubbornly, Arthur tries to carry it himself and nearly winds up face-planting again. Leading to Charles carrying his saddle for him (much to Arthur's dismay at feeling useless). Charles gives him his satchel to carry without Arthur having to say a word.

Arthur can't help the sigh of relief that escapes him when he finds everyone safe and sound, tending to the horses and packing the wagons. The sun beats down on his face as he watches little Jack run around and explain excitedly at the alien landscape while Abagail watches warily. John follows Jack around, making sure he stays out of trouble – the first real sign Arthur has seen of him stepping up to be a father to his son. There’s a bittersweet taste on his tongue when he remembers Issac, quickly distracting himself by focusing harder on the gang. Sean is already bounding around Hosea, a bottle in one hand and a grin on his face. Charles is still carrying his saddle as they approach the group, Hosea lighting up instantly and shoeing Sean away when he notices their approach. Arthur doesn’t expect the hug he’s pulled into, but one moment he’s standing loosely, and the next, Hosea is squeezing the life out of him.

“Hey, Dad, I missed ya too,” Arthur wheezes, patting his back awkwardly.

“I knew there was something wrong with your implant!” Hosea starts the moment he lets go of Arthur. “You should have let me check before we left!”

“Sorry, but we didn’t exactly have the time,” Arthur argues half-heartedly. He knows Hosea’s right.

“Well, at least Sean and Sadie tell me that our near friend here had a brain. Thank you for helping,” Hosea turns, addressing Charles now. He moves to hold out his hand but laughs when he realizes Charles’ hands are full. Instead, he reaches for the saddles.

“Here, let me help you.”

“I’ve got it,” Charles dismisses him, readjusting his grip on the saddles.

“Well, there ya go. Alright then. I’m Hosea – just so ya know. Sean says yer heading up to  Mellow Hollow like the rest of us. From what I hear, he’s already extended an invitation to you; however, consider this a formal one: you’re free to join us if you so please,” Hosea offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Sure. Would be better than headin’ up alone,” Charles shrugs noncommittally. He glances over to the horse stables, where assistants are carefully unloading the various livestock and other animals aboard the ship.

“I need to get my horse, Taima first, though.”

“That’s alright; Arthur has to get his as well. Off you two go; we’ll grab your luggage for you and get it packed away – with a last name, of course. If ya don’t mind,” Hosea asks.

“Smith. Luggage number 245808,” Charles supplies before starting off toward the horse stables.

“Don’t just stand there looking dumb, Arthur. Go get your horse too!” Hosea laughs, giving Arthur a playful shove.

Arthur stumbles slightly, catching himself quickly as he hurries after Charles, starting to feel a little better. He keeps the thermal blanket wrapped around him as he catches up to Charles and slows to the ambling pace he’s walking at. Collecting the horses is an easy task. The hard part is when he tries to mount Buell, only to have a mini coughing fit in the saddle. Charles rides up to him, patting his back gently as he works it out of his system.

“You sure you’re able to ride?” Charles asks, concern evident in his voice.

“Might be a good idea if I ride in a wagon. Already fell off my horse while ridin’ once. Don’t wanna do that again to this old boy,” Arthur admits, patting Buell on the neck.

“I’ll ride with you; I’m still trying to regain my bearings from cryostasis,” Charles says, sliding out of Taima’s saddle and offering Arthur a hand down.

He knows he should be able to get down on his own and that he definitely shouldn’t act like a blushing mess about this. He curses himself for not just being unable to ride his own damned horse but for needing help to even get out of the saddle. Charles doesn’t seem to mind, making sure he’s safely on the ground before taking Taima’s reigns and heading back to the wagons. Arthur takes Buell’s reigns and follows after him, trying not to focus on any of this. Charles is just being friendly, and he just likes being friendly with Charles. That’s it. That’s all this is. He’s not gay. Not in the slightest.

The duo doesn’t even have to say a word about riding in a wagon. The reigns to one of the wagons are all but thrust into their hands the moment they reach the gang. Feeling relieved that he doesn’t have to explain why he wants to ride in a wagon, Arthur climbs up into the front with Charles and lets Charles hold the reigns. He fixes his hat on his head and stares out across the vast landscape. It’s sparsely forested out here, a sea of green and a small town not too far from the landing pads. Small mountains and rolling hills are between the trees, leading out West toward the future. The ship has already been partially cannibalized before anyone was awoken from cryostasis, and the back of their wagon is loaded with materials to establish a settlement.

With the sun still rising behind them, Charles flicks the reigns, and the wagon jolts forward.

[bagelboys-withcreamcheese]

Incorrect VDL Gang Quotes

~~

Dutch: You win some, you lose some, but I just keep losing.

—

Arthur, waking up and seeing Sean laying next to him: What happened?

Sean: You got knocked out so I laid next to you so people would think we’re just chilling.

Arthur: Sean, we’re in the middle of a shoot out.

John, laying on the other side of Arthur: Nah, we’re fine.

Arthur: Oh my god-

—

Dutch: ‘Sea, I said no guns.

Hosea, armed to the teeth: Oh, I thought you said no gum.

Dutch: And yet you’re also chewing gum.

Hosea: *blows a bubble and lets it pop*

Hosea: I needed to establish dominance.

—

Hosea: Pretty sure I’m going to hell because of our friendship.

Dutch: Last one there wins.

[Dutch won]

—

Javier: Arthur, you’re finally h- what the hell are you wearing??

Arthur, in skunk boots and hat: It’s my ass kicking outfit, bitch-

—

Dutch: This is Arthur, he returns to camp to either eat our food, say hi, or roast the fuck out of you. Sometimes all at once.

—

John, drunk and crying: Do I look like a muppet??

Javier, also drunk and crying: Oh my god.

Arthur: *smiling and nodding*

—

*at camp*

Hosea: Are you sure the boys can handle that job?

Dutch: They’ll be fine!

*cut to all the boys in the woods stark naked bc they decided to go swimming after the coach robbery*

John & Arthur: *having a bean eating contest*

Sean, Bill, Javier, & Lenny, aggressively chanting: BEANS BEAN BEANS BEANS B-

—

Lenny: You are irrationally angry 365 days a year.

Bill: Well, that’s just your personal opinion, I don’t have anger issues. Do you guys think I have anger issues?

Javier: Well, I wouldn’t really call it an issue. An issue is something you can fix.

—

Tilly: You really believe in Dutch?

Hosea: Luckily, he believes in himself enough for the both of us.

—

*sitting around the campfire during Sean’s party*

Arthur: And now for a gay update on Hosea and Dutch.

John, watching them hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes: Getting gayer.

Arthur: Thank you, John.

—

Dutch: Micah is in trouble.

Arthur: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

—

Pearson: Did you already get your stew?

Arthur: Yeah, it was good.

Pearson: Really?

Arthur: Don’t make me lie twice, Pearson.

—

Bill: What even is a food fetish?

Lenny: What-

Bill: Like are people attracted to certain foods?Like bacon?

Javier: No, it’s wearing the foods.

Bill: Like a costume?? How can you role play as food?? What would the dirty talk be like??

Sean: Preheat your oven cause I’m going in raw.

John: Do you like seafood? Wanna taste of these muscles?

Sean: Are you spaghetti cause I want you to meat my balls.

John: Call me peanut butter cause I’ll make your legs feel like jelly.

—

Dutch: I'm a firm believer in ‘if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly.’

[novaiya]

Good Things Come in Three - Arthur/Reader/Sadie (NSFW)

Summary: You and Arthur skip the gang's celebratory party in favor of some alone time, barely closing the door of the hotel room before freeing each other of your clothes. Naked and on the bed, you almost get down to business when Sadie knocks on your door, asking if she could join the fun. You didn't expect the night to take such a turn, but that's not to say you're opposed to what she's suggesting.

Words: 5,157

Warnings: threesome, girl on girl kissing, face sitting, honestly, nothing too out of the line, just some good ol' F/F/M

A/N: I've wanted to write an RDR2 threesome for months now, and finally, it happened! Hopefully there'll be more to cum (lol) I actually have a rough draft of a Arthur/Reader/Charles sitting in my folder, so maybe I'll do something with it soon. Also, I'm going to horny jail.

AO3 Link.

With successful completion of a big score came a big celebration. The job was two weeks in the making and involved half a dozen members of the gang, you included. A small bank in a cholera ridden town, though heavily guarded with lawmen both inside and around it; you knew there was more to it. After a little bit more digging, you discovered that one of the residents of town struck gold and was keeping his findings there for the time being. It took careful planning and rigorous preparations but on the chosen day, you were all ready.

Contrary to how the gang’s plans often went, this one went rather smoothly (probably due to inclusion of you and Sadie, women’s touch as they say) and not a day later the gang was about $40,000 richer, a few gold bars heavier and miles away.

The spirits were high; Not only did the job go smoothly, but nobody got hurt or caught. Dutch was ecstatic and decided that celebration was in order. As soon as you came upon a town with a functioning saloon in it, all the horses and the wagons were stopped and everybody went inside.

The saloon, which only a few minutes before was quiet and deserted, with only the barman standing and polishing the empty glasses, quickly filled with two dozen of the gang members and their combined laughs, cheers and songs.

“What’s your name, mister?” Dutch said to the barman as the gang filed into the saloon.

“Howard, sir.”

“Howard,” Dutch repeated as he shook Howard’s hand and inconspicuously slid a few bills into his hand. “These people,” he said and motioned to the members that had already scattered themselves around the saloon, some at the poker table, some by the bar stock. “They had a rough go at it. Can you please make sure they have a pleasant evening?”

“Well, of course, sir!” Howard beamed, already putting the bills in his back pocket. “I’ve been serving drinks at this saloon since before the war, sir, I know what people need.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Dutch said, patting Howard on the back. “Now, people,” he turned his attention to the gang, his voice raising a few octaves. “Tonight, we celebrate. I want all of you to enjoy yourself. Drink, eat, gamble and do whatever else you want, as much as you want. You deserve it.”

Dutch’s address was met with loud cheers and long applause and thus, the night began.

The last time Howard served so many people so quickly was in ’65 when the war ended. Yet, even then he didn’t remember having to go into the basement to bring more stock and having to wake up his sons so they could help serve the patrons quicker. As he filled each glass to the brim, he wondered how people could drink so much.

You wondered too as you watched your fellow gang members down one drink after another after another. Some fared better than others. Dutch and Hosea, preferring to enjoy their liquor rather than get wasted, sat in the corner of the room by the fire, nursing their whiskey and already planning their next move. Lenny, still being young and inexperienced, was already dancing hand in hand with Sean, who despite not being new to drinking, couldn’t hold his liquor. Pearson, along with Uncle, started playing their instruments and added live music to the mix of singing, laughter and talking that already filled the saloon. Even Charles joined in on harmonica a few times.

Howard wondered what the lot of you did to call for such a celebration, but he knew better than to ask questions. The money was paid and the drinks were sold; that’s all that mattered.

To say that you were tipsy was an understatement. Perhaps drinking a shot of whiskey and chasing it with a beer was not a good idea, but good ideas rarely made their way into your head, especially when running with the Van Der Linde gang. You were sitting in Arthur’s lap, your arms draped lazily over his form, your head on his shoulder. The two of you were sitting at the poker table, with the other players being Javier, John and Micah. All four of the men were far too drunk to make the right moves or plan their strategies, yet it didn’t stop them from gambling their share of the bank job and hoping for the best.

Unsurprisingly to you, Arthur was winning. Out of all the four men, he was the least inebriated (no thanks to his big size and ability to hold liquor), and even when the drinks were not in play, Arthur was generally a good player, knowing when to hold, to fold, or to walk away. Each time he won some, you’d land a kiss on his neck or his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Good job, love.” The stoic, ruthless gunslinger would turn into mush at your words and your touch, and with a pink blush on his cheeks would say, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Despite enjoying a game of poker from time to time yourself, you found yourself a little bored and were looking forward to when the game would finish. As you sat in Arthur laps, waiting for the men to call it a night, your eyes traveled over the saloon, taking in the scenery around. It was a nice change to see the gang members so happy and carefree, the only thing on their mind, their next drink.

As you scanned the room, your eyes met with Sadie’s. She was leaning against the bar stock with a drink in her hand. You couldn’t read the exact look in her eyes; it was fierce, determined and hot. Hot. That’s exactly how you felt under her gaze. You shifted under Arthur, suddenly too aware that you were sitting on his lap. He groaned a little, one of his hands coming up to your hip to stop your movements.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he said under his breath, loud enough only for you to hear. You could still feel Sadie’s gaze, could see it from the corner of your eyes. His hand massaged your hip a little and he added, “I’m almost done here. Wanna go upstairs?”

A salacious smile, fueled by the alcohol in your veins and Arthur’s body against yours spread on your lips, and you hid your head in the crook of his neck, whispering, “You know I do.”

Arthur chuckled, before turning back to the game.

“All in,” he said.

Javier dropped out, but John and Micah went along, going all in.

One card up, second card up.

“Yes!”

You almost jumped out of Arthur’s lap as he roared, scooping up his winnings in no time.

John groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a loud thud, already preparing himself for Abigail’s wrath as soon as she would find out. Micah, on the other hand, was fuming, and his face was almost as red from the rage as his shirt. “Stupid game,” he said as he got up from the table and went to the barman, getting himself another drink.

“I got lady luck in my lap,” Arthur said before turning his head to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You moaned against his lips and waved your fingers through his hair, not caring even a bit at the John and Javier present, the latter even whistling at your display of love. One of his hands was on your hip, and the other started to make its way up your leg and under your skirt, dangerously close to the hem of your drawers.

You broke the kiss, panting slightly, and said, “How about we get a room?” you said before kissing his jaw and adding, “Unless you want to take me right here at the table.”

He could feel himself stiffen at your words, and without wasting anymore time, got up from the chair and took your hand in his. No one paid you and Arthur any attention as you traversed through the saloon, everybody too busy with their own conversations or drink, except for Sadie. You could feel her eyes the entire time as you walked across the room to the stairs, and your mouth felt dry when you walked right past her, her deep, brown eyes staring right into your soul and calling out to something. As you walked up the stairs, you turned back one last time, and saw her sending you a warm, though hinting, smile.

The two of you giggled and laughed as you tried to undress each other, the alcohol doing its job at making your fingers nimble.

He pushed you against the door as he ravished your mouth, making your head feel dizzy and your need for air almost as strong as the need for Arthur. When he broke away from your lips, his mouth turned to attacking your neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all up and down the column of your neck as his hands worked on undoing the buttons of your blouse.

“Oh my god, Arthur,” you moaned, your eyes closed as Arthur finally discarded your blouse and revealed your chest to him, his mouth landing on one of your nipples while his fingers worked on the other.

“Been hard since the moment you sat your pretty little ass down on my lap,” he groaned against your chest. He sucked on one of your nipples, covering it in his spit before adding, “Thought of taking you right then and there when I felt your nipples brush against me.”

“Fuck,” you moaned, your fingers in his hair as he placed his mouth back on your chest, giving your other nipple the same treatment.

“You sure were as good with them cards tonight as you are with your mouth,” you said breathlessly when he released your nipple.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and having a dangerous edge to it, “There’s a lot of things I’m good at.”

“Then show me, cowboy,” you said as you pushed him a little before dropping your skirt together with your drawers on the ground, presenting yourself to Arthur in all your naked glory. He could feel his mouth go dry upon seeing your body, illuminated by a faint light from the lantern. No matter how many times he saw you naked, you always managed to take his breath away and wonder what he did to deserve a creature as marvelous as you.

He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the bed. The cotton sheets felt cool and soft against your skin as Arthur laid you down before covering your body with his, his mouth on yours in seconds.

“Too many clothes,” you mumbled against his lips and pulled on his suspenders, the strap hitting him with an audible slap when you released it.

He didn’t waste much time, pushing his suspenders to the side and pulling out his shirt before throwing it on the floor, revealing his golden chest and torso to your eyes. You ran your hand up his torso, through the light blonde hair that covered it and up to his chest where you could hear his heart beat wildly. His hands were on his pants, ready to pull them down and reveal his leaking cock when a knock on the door froze both of you. You both darted your heads to the door, wondering who and for what reason would knock on your door. Perhaps it was one of your drunk friends, lost and trying to find an available room.

When neither of you answered, keeping still and quiet despite your breathing hard and heavy, a voice spoke from behind the door.

“It’s Sadie,” she said as if mentioning that it’s her and not one of the drunken boys would make a difference and by god, it did.

Her intense stare flashed before your eyes and you once again felt the weight of it over you. Perhaps the alcohol was doing it’s job, making you bolder and daring, but you turned your eyes at Arthur, searching for something in them; a visible ‘no’, a confusion or some sort of opposition, but when none came, you turned back towards the door and said, “Come in.”

You saw the doorknob twist before the door opened with an audible creak. As soon as Sadie passed through the threshold and closed the door behind her, her eyes landed on the two of you on the bed.

Arthur was just in his pants, situated between your naked, spread legs. Her eyes raked over his golden chest down to the bulge in his pants before darting to you, your nipples perky and at attention, your chest rising and falling each time you took a breath. It didn’t miss you when she licked her lips, her eyes still on your naked body.

“I…” she began, sounding just a hint sheepish, “I’m interested in joining. If it's okay with the two of you that is.”

You could feel yourself clench around nothing and your heart rate pick up a few beats upon hearing her words. From the way she occasionally watched you and Arthur engaging in some PDA and the looks the two of you would often share, you could feel something more than friendly feelings floating in the air. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t curious; Sadie was a beautiful woman; from her piercing brown eyes, to her full lips and her dirty blonde hair. You caught yourself thinking that she reminded you of Arthur in some ways, both of them having a similar, burning fire in them, bravery that could rival anyone else’s in the gang as well as a softer, caring side. Maybe that’s why you liked her and weren’t opposed to what she was suggesting.

You licked your lips and was more than ready to say yes, but turned to Arthur. After how long the two of you had been together, you didn’t need to use words to communicate. You looked at him, raising your brows slightly, silently asking, “Are you okay with this?” He gave you a lopsided grin, nodding his head just a tiny bit, his way of saying, “If you are, I am.”

You smiled before biting your lip and turning your head to Sadie. Arthur moved to the side, making room for you so you could get up from the bed. “Join us,” you said when you came to stand next to her, taking her hand in yours. She flashed you a smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, before one of her hands made its way to the back of your head, bringing your head closer to hers. You could feel her breath against your lips, could smell the strong scent of whiskey on them. It felt that just by inhaling the scent, you were getting more intoxicated.

Her lips were soft and warm as she pressed them against yours, stealing your breath away as she kissed you. You tangled your fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss and moaning against her mouth when she slipped her tongue in. All tongue and teeth, the kiss was desperate and needy, as if the two of you were starving for each other. Arthur could do nothing but watch as the two of you kissed, his mind on fire at looking at one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen in his life. He could feel himself become rock hard to the point of pain, and palmed his erection through his pants, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Her clothes dropped on the floor in a pile as you helped to disrobe her, your lips not leaving her for more than a few seconds as you helped her pull her blouse over her head and her pants down. Your lips were swollen and wet when the two of you finally broke apart, lazy grins on your faces. You turned around to look at Arthur; he looked desperate and needy as he sat on the bed, his cock already in his hands, rock solid, leaking and red at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and you smiled at Sadie before the two of you made your way to Arthur.

“Ladies,” he groaned as the two of you got up on the bed, making your way to Arthur like panthers to their prey. You pushed his hand aside, replacing it with yours. If there was heaven, then this was certainly it, Arthur thought when he watched the two of you bring your lips to his cock, your mouth on his tip while Sadie’s on his base. He fought back the urge to snap his hips forward, pushing more of himself in your mouth, and decided to simply take what the two of you were giving him. While you sucked on his head, popping the head in your mouth from time to time before sucking on it, Sadie was kissing up and down his cock, making a mess as her spit covered him from the base to the middle. Arthur couldn’t help but twitch when she took one of his balls in her mouth, and you took his cock deeper, the head hitting the back of your throat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned loud, perhaps too loud, at all the attention he was getting.

Thankfully, the two of you didn’t torture him for too long or otherwise he was sure he would’ve been cumming down your throat within minutes. As Sadie popped his balls from her mouth, and you took his cock out of yours, you kissed once again. Neither of you minded the taste of the man on each other’s lips, perhaps even chasing it as your tongues clashed against each other.

You turned to look at Arthur, your eyes almost completely black and full of lust, and said, “Arthur, I want you to fuck Sadie.” Your hands ran up his cock, giving a few slow, sensual strokes and earning a groan from him before adding, “I want her to feel how good your cock is.”

To say that he was expecting the night to go down like this would be a lie, but that’s not to say that he wasn’t enjoying it. He didn’t trust his words, so he simply nodded his head and pushed his hips a little for emphasis.

Sadie’s hand was in yours as she moved to straddle Arthur, his cock right against her nether lips. He could feel her witness coating his member, the heat from her lips already spreading over him. Arthur held himself in his hand as Sadie lowered herself on his cock, moaning at the stretch of being filled by him, pleasure bordering on pain from how thick he was. You kissed her all over, her neck, her cheeks, her lips, her chest, as she took him inch by inch, her breathing ragged and her eyes closed. When he was all the way in, his pelvis flush with her, it was as if everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Sadie felt full, unbelievably so, and without even moving, she could already feel unbelievable pleasure filling her.

You lowered your head to Arthur’s, kissing over his neck before bringing your lips to his ear and said, “Make her feel good, Arthur.”

The first pull and push of his cock had Sadie cry out in pleasure, her face contorted in ecstasy as Arthur pushed deep inside her. His hands were on her hips as he held her in place, pistoling his cock in and out of her wet channel. You could feel your wetness run down your legs as you watched her, so lost in pleasure and so beautiful as she moaned.

With his hands still on her hips, he turned his face to you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You could feel his hunger and desperation as his tongue danced around your’s, making your head spin from the intensity of the kiss.

When he broke away, a spit connecting your lips just for a moment, he said, “I want to feel you too.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. With excitement and lust and arousal coursing through your veins, you sat up on the bed before swinging your legs over Arthur’s head and bringing your soaked pussy over his mouth. He removed one of his hand’s from Sadie’s hips (who was now riding him in earnest herself, taking her pleasures from his cock) and placed it on one of your thighs to bring you down over his mouth.

Your moans joined Sadie’s as Arthur sucked on your sopping lips, before diving his tongue right into your hole. The room filled with nothing but sounds of moans, groans and skin slapping against skin. Perhaps, if someone looked up a definition of hedonism, a picture of the three of you would be there, indulging in your most basic carnal desires and chasing your pleasures.

With your eyes closed and your mouth open, you could do nothing but shake with pleasure as Arthur ate you out, his skillful tongue working between plunging itself into your hole and sucking on your clit. The feeling of Sadie’s hand on your cheek made you open your eyes. She was completely debauched, her face flush from arousal, her pussy wet and dripping as Arthur fucked into her. She brought your face to hers and kissed you, her tongue pushing past your lips right away. From Arthur tongue in your pussy to Sadie’s in your mouth, you could feel yourself nearing the edge.

“Fuck!” Sadie cried out, breaking away from your lips as her orgasm washed over her like a tsunami. Arthur didn’t let up for a moment, pistoling his hips in and out of her quivering hole until she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt herself gush all over him as he brought her to the peak of pleasures to the point where it was becoming all too much and she had to stop. She breathed heavily as she recovered, sitting to the side and waiting for the ringing in her ears to pass.

Satisfied with making one of the women happy, Arthur turned his full attention to you, both of his hands on your thigh, bringing you impossible close to his face, so much so that you wondered how he breathed.

“Arthur,” you moaned as he fucked you with his tongue and brought his thumb to play with your clit.

Sadie was at your side then, kissing down your neck till she reached your nipple and sucked on it.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, tears welling in your eyes as all the sensations were becoming too much. “You’re gonna make me cum,” you said to both of them, and not a moment later, you did.

You kept riding Arthur’s face as you chased your orgasm, crying his and Sadie’s name as they kept bringing you higher and higher. After a few more moments, you finally came to a stop, your thighs still shaking as Arthur helped you from his face down to the bed, laying at one of your sides while Sadie laid at your other. He kissed up and down your neck, leaving small bites and hickeys all over, while Sadie kissed over your chest, marking you as well.

Only after a few moments did it dawn on you that despite making the two of you cum and see stars, Arthur still hasn’t, his cock rock hard.

As if thinking the same thing, Sadie looked up at your from between your breasts, saying, “I wanna watch him fuck you,” before licking your nipple.

You moaned at that, your pussy twitching in anticipation, and looked at Arthur.

You were still sensitive from your orgasm, but you wanted to watch Arthur cum, so you spoke against his lips. “Arthur, please.”

He could never say no to you, not when you spoke his name with such a need in your voice. He smiled against your lips, brushing his nose against yours before saying, “Anything for you, darlin’.”

You parted your thighs to accommodate him and licked your lips when he took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few pumps before pushing just the head of his cock in. There was more than enough preparation, your own wetness and Arthur’s spit running down your pussy and your thighs, yet you still felt that familiar burn as he split you open, pushing more of himself in.

Inch by inch, he filled you, taking a pause here and there to let you get used to the feeling of him filling you to the brim. When he was all the way in, the head of his cock pushing so deep inside you you could practically taste it, you sighted his name, your head rolling back on the pillows and your fingers clawing at the sheets.

Sadie’s hand was on your lower abdomen, right where she could feel Arthur push in you.

She licked her lips before turning to him and said, “Fuck her proper, Arthur.”

The drag of his cockhead over your insides had you clench around him, the tears in your eyes coming back as your sensitive walls spasmed over him. One of your hands was clawing at the back of your pillows, the other at the sheets under you, and you could do little more than simply take Arthur’s pistoning, his cock reducing you to cries and moans of his name.

Sadie turned your head towards her, capturing your lips in her once again before speaking against them. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel,” she said.

You tried to speak, but as you opened your mouth, a moan came out as Arthur delivered a particularly rough thrust, hitting that special place inside of you. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see him smirk.

“So good, Sadie,” you finally managed. The bliss you were feeling had your mind going haywire as Arthur’s thrusts pushed you closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. “Fuck. He’s fucking me so good,” you moaned, your words no doubt feeding Arthur’s ego, making him puff out his chest more and fuck you harder into the mattress, “He’s gonna make me cum.”

Sadie smiled before kissing you once again, alternating between sucking on your tongue and delving hers into your mouth.

Arthur was at the end of his rope. He was holding out his own release, hoping to deliver you to yours first, but it was proving hard when your cunt spasmed over him each time he pushed inside. It didn’t help either that you and Sadie were all over each other, your lips against one another, your hands exploring each other’s bodies. Not even in his wildest dreams or fantasies had he seen something like this.

He placed both of his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them up so your legs hung on his shoulder, kissing one of your ankles as he did so. Your legs twitched each time he slammed back in, the new position making him go in even deeper if that was possible, and if it wasn’t for Sadie’s mouth on yours, you were sure your scream’s would’ve definitely alerted somebody.

Delicate and slow, her hand traveled from one of your breasts, down your stomach and to your wet pussy. She could feel where Arthur was entering you again and again, the wetness around your walls making for an easy, though loud with sloppy sounds, entrance. Using two of her fingers, she started to add small circular motions around your clit, making your toes curl.

With the combination of Sadie’s fingers on your clit and Arthur’s cock in your pussy, you came, arching your back from the bed as pleasure coursed through your veins, so hard you thought you were gonna blackout from it. Sadie kissed you through it, muffling your cries and moans and screams with her mouth. The orgasm swept over you like a hurricane, leaving you completely boneless as you laid there, managing to do nothing more than keep taking Arthur’s cock.

The feeling of you spasming and tightening over him was too much for Arthur. “Fuck, darlin’, I’m close,” he said, the sweat on his face making it shiny.

With Sadie’s mouth away from yours, you managed a broken cry and a small, “Yes” moving your hips just a little to help Arthur to his release.

Sadie moved her hand from where it was near your clit to where Arthur was entering your sopping pussy again and again. With a mischievous smile, she took his balls in her hand and fondled them before saying, “Fill her up, Arthur.”

Arthur came with a heavy groan, his pace all out of rhythm as he kept pushing his cock into you, stuffing you full of his cum until you could feel it running down your thighs.

At last, he stilled, his breathing heavy as he pulled out of you and lowered your legs from his shoulder to the bed.

You could feel Arthur’s sweat drop from his forehead to yours as he bent down to kiss you, slow and tender, before dropping to your side. His head was on the pillow as he stared at the ceiling, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. On your other side, Sadie was catching her breath too, the activities you just engaged in making her previously clear complexion looking a tad bit pink. You could see a satisfied smile on her lips as she raised herself on her elbows to look at you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face before laying back down on the bed, one of her hands under her head.

As you laid there, well-fucked, satisfied and bemused, you wondered how you’d look Sadie in the eyes in the morning, when the effects of alcohol and lust would vanish, and you’d have nowhere to hide as the sun would illuminate every corner of the room. You remembered Dutch’s words, telling all of you to enjoy yourself. “As much as you want,” he specified. You’re not sure if he had this in mind when saying that.

Sadie, however, decided to not wait for the morning and spoke up now, saying, “Might I say that the two of you sure know how to fuck.”

The ease with which she spoke eased your restless nerves, and you felt yourself relax as you laughed at her words. At your side, Arthur couldn’t help but shake his head, a small smirk playing at his lips.

You knew the next morning would still bring the awkward laughs and pink blushes, but you decided you could deal with that later. Right now, you were happy to enjoy the warmness of the two bodies pressed at your sides.