#dutch van der linde fluff

[simonsomeriley]

dutch van der linde with a

younger reader

1k words | female reader

@bisca-connell445 for you lovely <3

cw: (legal) age gap (r is in her mid-late 20s, dutch is in his early 40s), infidelity & unfaithfulness, dutch is a tad bit insecure, maybe ooc (?)

my apologies i accidentally ended it off in a cliff hanger 🥲 enjoy this blurb

You've had your eye on him for a while. An older, territorial, & handsome grown man with confidence in his step. Who wouldn't want him?

Of course you haven't said anything about it, much too shy to do so.

You don't know what pulls your attention to him. Is it the experience, how a man like him has experience under his belt, not afraid to take the lead in unnerving circumstances.

He's the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, you think. At least for you. You'd never say it to his face, mostly unsure of what he thinks of you.

Little do you know, Dutch sits in his bed at night, replaying your conversations in his head, overanalysing every word he says, did he come off to strong? Too distant? Too cold?

Sometimes you think he's cold with you. You're unsure if it's on purpose, but it throws you off. Usually his bubbling and sarcastic personality had never been hindered by you.

In his head, you're too good for him. He already fancies someone, after all. In an attempt not to come off too friendly, he'll accidentally come off as distant. He doesn't mean to, but he knows Molly would have the shock of her life if she found out how he looks at you.

The way the cigar hangs off his lips, the pride in his walk.

You're a proper lady, in his words. Even though you don't think that's true, you'll take his word for it.

You're a young thing, a healthy and attractive woman. Though something about you stands out to him. You're different.

He makes it less and less obvious how he looks at you, and you're sure Molly notices. You try to avoid eye contact with him, for your own good.

You think about him when you're laying under your sheets, head on the pillow, thinking about him. His voice, his confident expression, you want him. And you want him bad. This isn't good, right?

Surely if you slip up at any time Molly would notice. You're not even sure Dutch appreciates you wanting him in that aspect.

You don't see the love in their relationship. Like there's no spark. Molly defends him with her life, but to you it seems like she wants something he can't give her.

Like she's in denial.

Dutch is nonchalant, per usual he's seemingly upon his high horse, he takes pride in himself. Doesn't get dramatic.

You appreciate that in him. You see the good in him even if no one else does. You understand. At least Dutch thinks so, he'd never ever let you know. He's not risking losing the relationship you already have trying to get closer.

I could treat him better, you think. I could give him everything he wants and more, if only he'd take me. I'd say yes to him any day. Your thoughts are shaken off though,

You shake them off. You think about what he'd called you, a proper lady, you wonder what makes him think so of you. You enjoy dressing up, making your hair all pretty, laced up in corsets and bodices, wearing flowy dresses and hair pieces. You'd catch anyone's eye from a mile away, he thinks every time he sees you.

Dutch is sitting outside with Molly, eating whatever dinner there was available, pretty quietly it seems. Not a word is exchanged between them. You wonder where the tension started, why Dutch is so avoidant of her.

You come closer after spectating from a distance, you sit down at a picnic blanket a bit further away from them. Everyone seems to be out and about, minding their own business, you sit under a tree, enjoying the shadow it's supplying you.

Dutch meets your eye again, seemingly unaware of Molly's burning gaze at him. You try not to pay attention.

I wish I could read his mind, you thought. His signals are mixed all of the time.

Molly is clearly upset with him, for whatever reason, it isn't anything new to anyone.

He does his best to look proper. He freshens up his hair and his beard, he dresses in his finest suits around you and takes care of himself. His feelings were eating at him, practically eyeing you down like a hawk whenever he got the chance.

You're still standing outside now, it's night time, the stars are up and bright in the sky. He walks over to you, and your heart rate skyrockets. "How are you holdin' up, young lady?" you feel like you could die.

Usually he talks to you with confidence in his speech, fast-paced and never slurred. Right now, he looks like a flustered and smiling mess in front of you. "Dutch, have you been drinking? You seem awfully joyous this night,"

Not usually him. Just talking to him makes the butterflies in your stomach erupt. The cigar hanging off of his lips, he looks you up and down. "Well, there ain't much else to do at night, eh? You've been awfully quiet as well. Anything you thinkin' about?" he talks slurred, like he's zoned out or out of focus.

You assume he'd had a bit much. You stand and talk with him throughout the night, happy for his company and being able to see his face for however long. Eventually, the conversation gets deeper. More passionate. More... intimate. He's standing closer as well, he smells of whiskey, cigarettes and floral perfume. That must be Molly's, you presume.

He's looking you in the eye as he speaks about the things he's passionate about, like he can see right through you. You put your hand on his shoulder, a way of grounding you. Or him as well, as it takes him by shock, his eyes widen and he looks at you like you're crazy.

Is this too much? It can't be, if he had had enough of you, he wouldn't have been sticking around for so long. No doubt. He reciprocates after a while though, sneaking his arm around your waist. You smile at that, he isn't so distant after all.

Now it was only to figure out how to make him yours forever.

[dear-departed]

The Innocence of an Outlaw [Dutch]

A/N: I'm back! After what, a year or something? I don't really know what happened, or why happened, but it happened. Um, I finally played RDR2, after procrastinating, of course. But now I'm obsessed with these stupid little dumb gay cowboys. Without further adieu, here's a short Dutch Van Der Linde thing.

Desc.: Downtime with Dutch starts pretty uneventful until he remembers that his darling isn't a smoker. In his eyes, hilarity ensues; in yours, pain and coughing.

Word count: 1.15K

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Dutch Van Der Linde x GN! Reader

Dutch- innocent outlaw 

Life in the gang was never easy. The downtime was rare, but that’s to be expected. Somebody always needed him or needed a hand with something; which you usually were chosen to help with. After all, Dutch Van Der Linde’s partner is never exempt from carrying their own weight, at least that’s how you saw it. 

Despite how popular it is, you were never a smoker, nor a drinker. It was something you simply never took nearly as much pleasure in as others. Both activities burned, and one made you less aware. Dutch, on the other hand, can almost never be spotted without a cigar in hand, or a bottle of surprisingly pricey bourbon or whiskey near him. He almost never got drunk, but that’s not to say he didn’t enjoy a drink every so often.  

On this rare occasion where you have him all to yourself, you and Dutch sit in his tent at Horseshoe Overlook. It’s a pretty place, and if you were being honest, maybe even a little nicer than the west. After the whole mess in Blackwater, it was refreshing to move east. A relief, even.  

He sits next to you, one hand sitting idly on your thigh, his thumb caressing the fabric of your clothing. As per usual, rings adorn his fingers, thick gold rings. Something about the way they looked on his callused fingers drove you wild.  

“You know…” Dutch starts, taking a long drag of his cigar, “I’m so glad you’ve stuck with me through all of this. Through Blackwater. They say someone shows their character in a time of panic or need, and you’ve proven yourself to be real’ trustworthy. I appreciate your faith in me.” He speaks. Curse his silver tongue, the way he makes you swoon with every word that comes out of his smoky breath. Every time you consider leaving the outlaw life, he drags you back in with his words, his charming looks and his rich voice keeps you anchored to him. The way he spoils you rotten when he gets the chance and ignores you right after.   

Thank you, Dutch... you’re too good to me.” You mutter, leaning into his warm body, one arm snaking around his waist. “Do you want a puff?” he asks, holding his cigar out to you.  

You furrow your brows, slowly shaking your head. “No thanks, you know I’ve never been much of a smoker.” You say, slowly closing your eyes.  

” Oh?” he asks, quirking a brow, as if your words surprised him. “Go on, it’s an honor. The amount of times Sean or Arthur have asked for a drag off me... they’d be jealous, you know.” He says softly, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you into his lap. His cigar hangs from his mouth, tendrils of smoke curling into the air and wafting up into your nose. Almost everything that resides in Dutch’s tent has cigar smoke in it, permeating any material. Leather, cloth, metal, it doesn’t matter.  

“Alright, alright, I give.” You say, reaching for the cigar, but he takes it from his mouth and moves it away.  

“Hold on now, allow me...” He says, one side of his face quirking up into some sort of grin. “Open up.” He says, and you obediently oblige.  

He adores the way you listen, the fire in your criminal heart burns everyone but him. To Dutch, you’re but a wood stove, contained and comforting. He puts the cigar to your lips, resting one hand right beneath the back of your neck. You inhale the smoke- rookie mistake. Immediately it burns your lungs and throat, and you start hacking and coughing, curling over yourself. 

Dutch quickly pulls the cigar away, a chuckle coming from his lips, “you’ve only ever smoked cigarettes? You don’t inhale cigar smoke, it’s different.”  

Of course, he would know that 

He passes you a cup of water from the crate beside his cot that acts as a nightstand. You eagerly gulp it down to soothe the burn. Dutch rubs your back while you hack and cough, tipping some of the ash from the cigar onto the floor.  

“I hate to make light of your pain, but I think it’s adorable how inexperienced you are... such a ruthless outlaw, but a cigar can topple you...” He teases, lacing his fingers through your hair. He tugs softly, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you jerk your head up to look at him with teary eyes.  

“You’re fine. Just watch me.” He says, putting the cigar to his lips. He lets the smoke sit in his mouth for a moment, before slowly blowing it out, a plume of smoke coming from his mouth. “See?”  

You nod, finishing the last from the water cup. “Yeah. Can I try again?” You ask, reaching for the cigar.  

“Of course.” He once again pulls the cigar away from you, taking another slow drag from it. He puts one hand behind your head and pulls your face close to his, pressing his lips to yours. Of course, you kiss back, even as he slowly blows the smoke into your mouth as you absentmindedly get a little more comfortable in his lap.  

Dutch slowly pulls away, placing his index finger on your lips. “Just taste the smoke for a moment, no need to rush.” he croons softly into your ear. He revels in the way you choke down coughs; just for him. “You’re alright, doin’ just fine there... alright, now blow.”  

Slowly, you let the smoke flow from your mouth, right in his face, out of spite. He fans away the smoke with a hardy laugh, “you did it! With my help, of course.” He comments, giving you a smug grin. He’s enamored by the way you cough again, some of the smoke you’d just blown out reentering your mouth. His thumb rubs against your chin and on the side of your lip lovingly. You can’t quite pinpoint if it’s because you have something on your face or if it’s because he’s simply feeling affectionate. Either way, the attention feels nice. His warm callused hands upon your dirt-smudged face. “You’ll get used to it... trust me, I much prefer a pipe to cigars, but I left my old pipe in... Blackwater.” He mutters the dreaded city name underneath his breath, avoiding your gaze as he huffs softly.  

“Why don’t you buy another one? I’m sure Saint Denis has some ‘real nice pipes. I’ve seen the ones- men in those big top-hats, they have these pretty mahogany pipes.” You suggest.  

He simply shrugs, “I have, none of them feel quite right. The last one fit my lips perfectly.” He recalls. You swear you could see drool coming out of his mouth. This man was a tobacco fiend, that much you knew.  His hands absentmindedly caress your thighs, his fingers kneading, like an affectionate cat.  

"You owe me a back massage."

"For oh-so-generously offering you a drag from my cigar?"

"From not telling me you're not supposed to breathe."

"Fine."

[margowritesthings]

Mr. and Mrs. Macintosh

pairing: Dutch Van Der Linde x reader

word count: 778 words

warnings: n/a

a/n: y'all can blame @cowboydisaster for this one. that is all.

tagging: @cowboydisaster @cassidylynnj

piece no. 2 of margo's christmas spectacular

Under the moonlight and the lights wrapped around the Bastille saloon, your wedding ring is practically glowing around your finger. Or maybe you’re just that damn happy that it’s bleeding into your senses, sending the world rose-tinted and magical. Either way, you don’t care. Why would you? You’re Mrs Van Der Linde. You could watch a pig take off in flight, watch Uncle get off his ass and actually do something for once and it wouldn’t phase you in the slightest. Well, the Uncle thing might, but you’re only human.

Dutch dismounts The Count first, holding out his hands for you. You attempt to slide down onto your feet, but he somehow manages to scoop you into his arms bridal-style. A giggle bubbles up your windpipe, escaping you and floating to your husband’s ears.

The hustle and bustle of San Denis dissipates around you both until it is just the two of you, sharing the first moment between you as a husband and wife.

“Why, my dear, you have made me the luckiest man alive.” There’s a glint in his eye you’re not sure you’ve seen before and it shatters all over you, sending shivers over each and every inch of your being. He is a smitten man, anybody could see it, and he was smitten for you. The great Dutch Van Der Linde, absolutely completely and utterly devoted to his wife.

“And you I, Mr. Van Der Linde.” You respond, lowering your voice at the mention of his last name so that only he could hear it. He grins at you, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before setting you down firmly on the ground. You walk around to the mounting post, nimble fingers tying The Count’s reins around the splintered wood securely whilst Dutch retrieves your bag. 

The string lights reflect in Dutch’s silver rings, one of them being his own wedding band, when he extends his hand back out to you, chivalrously leading you into the saloon. There’s much less fresh air to absorb the party noises in here and the heat and volume hit you quickly. Dutch makes the bar his heading and you stick close by, squeezing his hand every so often just to feel the press of your wedding ring against the skin of your finger. Patrons inevitably brush past you, the saloon being as busy as it is, but you don’t really care. By Dutch’s side, you could face down the world. What’s a few drunkards? 

Besides, Dutch is walking with such a purpose, a power, that he’s almost parting the seas as he goes. Everybody in that bar knows you’re his, if not by the wedding dress on your back then definitely by the way he’s looking at you whenever he glances back to make sure you’re okay. It makes you feel hot under his stare, possessed. It’s… way more than you know what to do with in a room full of San Denis’ finest townsfolk. Luckily, it isn’t long before you’re at the bar, Dutch’s theatrical formalities forcing you to hold back a grin. 

“Hello there, sir! I do believe there is a room reserved for me and my lovely wife here.”

It’s impossible to tell how the bartender responds, as all you can hear is Dutch’s voice echoing around your mind. 

My lovely wife. My lovely wife. 

“-will just need your names here.” The young man with the towel over his shoulder and way too much pomade in his hair pulls the tip off his pen and opens the registry. Your hand squeezes Dutch’s once more as the realisation that you’re about to hear Mrs Van Der Linde out loud for the very first time.

Heart fluttering, you gaze up at Dutch, who grins suavely, proudly announcing “Mr. Hoagy Macintosh. And my wife…” He gestures to you expectantly, and you see the twitch tugging his grin into a smirk. He’s challenging you, knowing full well you cannot say or hear his alias without breaking into the most awful snorting laughter. He’s challenging you, because how the hell could you top Hoagy Macintosh?

“Millicent. Millicent Macintosh. We’re just married.” Your accent has more of a drawl in it as you flutter your eyelashes demurely, placing your free hand right on Dutch’s chest, the picturesque Macintosh family. 

You expect the questioning eyebrow raise from the bartender, it is inevitable. What you don’t expect is the stifled snort coming from right beside you. Dutch loses it and he has to cover his broken facade with a cough. And you know you’ve won this one. 

And you can’t wait for the next one.

Because you’re Mrs. Macintosh, the happiest woman alive.

[marybeth-was-lesbian]

Cigarettes & Tobacco

written by marybeth-was-lesbian

dutch van der linde x fem reader

warnings: absolutely none, except some good old fluff haha

first time posting. so hi :) i barely know how this works haha but i just wanted to post this! doubt i’ll ever post an actual fic again, but oh well LOL just a random one-shot!!

—————————————————————————

I wake up.

I don’t he’s ever sat with me during the early hours of the morning. But his scent still lingers on my skin. Tobacco and vanilla.

He’s outside of the tent, standing proudly as he watches over his camp. He does his usual routine.

He will reach into his pocket.

He will bring out his cigar.

He will light it.

And he will smoke it.

Whilst I watch on the bed, I will quietly reach over to the nightstand to grab my own box of thin cigarettes and a match to light one. Once it’s lit, he will turn around and greet me with a great smile.

“Good morning. You’re up early.” Dutch says, taking a puff of his cigar and blowing out the cloudy smoke. “I told you not to smoke in bed. You’ll get ashes everywhere.” He lectures, shaking his head and taking another long puff.

“M’sorry,” I’ll tiredly mumble, sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck. He’ll just give me a smug look and look back out the tent at everyone.“Better things to look at, yes?”

The tall man immediately cocks his head to look at me. “What?”

“You heard me.” I’ll smugly take a long puff of my cigarette, inhaling into my lungs, feeling the burn, then exhaling to create a thick cloud of smoke in his tent. Dutch watches me, then speaks again.

“I don’t understand you.” He replies, half-laughing, “I don’t understand you at all.”

I just roll my eyes. I stand up from the mattress, distinguishing the cigarette on his table. He doesn’t avert his gaze the whole time. “Better things to look at, other than me?”

A smile creeps onto his lips, slowly. He snakes an arm around my waist, holding me so delicately as if I was made of glass and could shatter into one million tiny pieces at any given moment.

Those dangerous however comforting, amber coloured eyes stared back intensely into my grey-blue ones. After a pause, he chuckled. It was a low, deep chuckle. Came from his chest.

“There are no better things to look at other than you, My Dear.”

Dutch pulls me in for a kiss. It’s slow, the passion building up with every second. His free hand rests on my cheek, pulling me further into the kiss. Like the scent left on my skin, I’ll taste it in my mouth this time. The tobacco and the vanilla.

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

��� We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[hihomeghere]

Salt and Pepper | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 1.4k Summary : Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray. I saw a post on here about Arthur with salt and pepper hair and I couldn’t stop myself hehe. Warnings/Tags : talk about death, getting old, Arthur loves his wife, no tb, Arthur and reader own a house, mention of past gang members, cursing, lots of fluff, self deprecation on Arthur’s side, bullets, mention of weight gain (in a positive way)

“Godamn ugly bastard.” Arthur huffed, his gaze piercing as he looked into the mirror. He hadn’t meant to have himself a pity party this morning. In fact he was feeling quite fine this morning before looking in the small bathroom mirror. Waking up next to you always puts a spring in his step. Especially when he’s waking up in a real bed, underneath a soft quilt that you happened to sew in some free time. Mismatched patches and all, it was his favorite thing in the small home you two shared. Hell, you were becoming quite domestic ever since the house was completed.

But he wasn’t exactly expecting to find gray hair sprouting from his hairline. He wasn’t that old, was he?

“Jesus.” He sighed, inspecting further he realized it wasn’t one or two gray hairs, it was almost twenty. Hidden under his longer than normal locks after forgoing a haircut for the last couple weeks. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed them, especially with how much you loved to run your fingers through his hair. Although, he loved it just as much, maybe even more.

God, he needed to get rid of these before you saw them. He was sure you had some tweezers around here somewhere. He opened up your drawer, rifling around for your tweezers. Bingo. His hands gripped the small piece of metal, a triumphant smile on his face.

It was only once he looked back up into the mirror, determined to fix this issue before you woke up, that he noticed you padding into the bathroom. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Mornin’.” You hummed, laying your cheek against his bicep, smiling sweetly at him through the mirror.

“Mornin’.” He said, clearing his throat.

“What do you need those for?” You asked, eyeing the tweezers in his hand. Caught red handed, he tried coming up with some excuse.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He said, giving you his signature smile, kissing your forehead. He slipped the tweezers into his pocket for safe keeping, at least until he had a free moment without you around. After all those years on the run and he could come up with nothing, Hosea would have been so disappointed in his lack of an answer. He swore he could hear the old man chastising him now.

“For a former outlaw you sure are an awful liar.” You tutted, shaking your head, slipping your fingers into his pocket and pulling out the tweezers.

“Well it ain’t my fault,” He huffed playfully, “Could never get nothin’ past you anyway.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You removed your hands from around his waist, leaning back on the sink as you looked up at him.

“Spill.” You said raising an eyebrow, your arms crossed over your chest.

Knowing he’d been caught, Arthur hung his head, a low sigh leaving his lips.

“It’s just-“ He cursed, turning to look away from you, “Well I’m goin’ gray.” He admitted, not meeting your eyes.

“And?” You asked in such a nonchalant manner.

“And?” He asked looking up at you, his brows furrowed.

“So you have some gray hairs.” You said with a shrug, “You’re acting like the damn world is ending.” You chuckled softly, a smile tugging on your lips.

“Well-“ Arthur sighed, pursing his lips, he didn’t want to be vain but damn it, it did feel like the world was ending.

“Honey.” You said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Ain’t nothing wrong with some gray hairs.” You said, shaking your head, looking so goddamn patient as always. What he did in a past life to deserve you he would never know, he definitely didn’t deserve you in this one. You smiled, running your thumb over his couple day old stubble. He couldn’t help but sigh softly, leaning into your touch.

“Just makes me feel old ‘s all.” He shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Arthur.” You said softly, he opened his eyes. His bright azure pools looking into yours. “Getting old means we’re still alive.” You said pointedly, not missing the way your fingers trailed lightly down his chest.

He sighed softly, anyone who said he was the most like Hosea had obviously never had a one on one conversation with you. You had shared the same dry wit along with being just as wise as the old man. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were more closely related than just being adopted by him as a kid.

As your hand settled over his heart, he couldn’t help but remember a time when you didn’t have this place. When his next breath had been an undeserved blessing. When you and Charles had pulled his broken body off that godforsaken mountain. You were right, he should be grateful for these gray hairs and new lines on his face. Should be grateful that he made it this far out west with you, where the air was dryer and slowly his lungs didn’t hurt as bad with each breath.

If anything he should be grateful that you’re here, here in this house. The house that he built specifically for you. That you’re not buried six feet under like most of the fellow gang members. That you didn’t catch a bullet like Lenny or Sean, how he wished they could have had the chance to grown old. Even as mouthy as Sean was, the poor bastard didn’t deserve that. Lenny was just a boy, foolish enough to be sucked in by Dutch’s silver tongue. He shook his head trying to clear any thoughts of the past.

God, along with the fact that somehow both of you still happen to be standing, the fact that you chose to stand by him after everything you went through makes his head swim. You could have left him at any point, hell he had begged you to leave after his death sentence. And yet, here you were.

“Guess you’re right.” He said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Course I am.” You teased, a smile spreading across your face. You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. He accepted your silent invitation, pressing his lips against yours. So soft and warm and inviting. He could feel you smile against his lips. That small smile warmed him from the inside out, nearly making his toes curl.

Jesus, he was lucky. More than lucky, he still couldn’t figure out how he had tricked you into marrying him. He wanted to be the best version of himself for you, he had made a promise to try every day to be a better man for you. You shouldn’t be tied down to a miserable old fool like himself.

As if you could read his mind, which he often suspected you could, your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Besides,” You began as you pulled away, “I like the salt and pepper look.” Arthur scoffed, shaking his head.

“Really?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Really.” You nodded, running your hand through his hair. “Think you get more handsome every day.” If anyone was getting prettier every day it was you. Your hair was longer, cascading down your shoulders in waves. No longer tied up in a tight braid or bun. You looked relaxed, at peace. You became softer once you both settled into your new lifestyle. Not just emotionally, although you still had that fire which had first drawn him towards you, like a moth to a flame. You were physically softer, your harsh edges smoothing out as you started to eat and sleep better. Your curves became more prominent, and he certainly didn’t mind having more to hold onto late at night.

Maybe you truly did feel the same about him. He had never known you to lie. A blush settled on his cheeks at the thought. He shook his head, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“Yeah, alright darlin’.” He says taking your face in his hands, kissing you again before you had the chance to embarrass him further.

Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad if you had someone to grow old with.

[your-moms-toes]

Heartshot

———————————————————

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: Taking a ride with Arthur, you found yourself ambushed by O’Driscols, you were shot straight through the stomach..

Angst, fluff, some gore (I’m not good at writing it so)

Not my best work, hopefully you guys like it!

———————————————————

Arthur rode back to camp as quickly as he could, your weak body sitting in the saddle in front of him. His eyebrows knitted together tightly, a clear testament to the turmoil churning within. He held your limp body against him tightly, staring out at the road ahead. His free arm snapped the reigns of his horse, driving it faster.

"Stay with me, keep those eyes open!" he urged, cradling your weakened form. You had been Ambushed by O'Driscolls during while on your way to town to pick up things for Dutch, a bullet had found you, tearing through your midsection.

Arthur's embrace acted as both a shield and a sanctuary, his palm pressing firmly against your belly to slow the blood that quickly pored out. "We’re Almost to camp, I promise I’ll get you help there." he spoke with hushed urgency.

“Arthur..” you whispered breathlessly. Your hands rested atop of his, pressing it farther into the puncture wound on your stomach. This was the most intense pain you have ever felt, every little movement you made had sent searing pain throughout your body. Your knuckles began to turn white due to how tightly you held his hand, You weren’t meaning to squeeze him so hard.

His horse sprinted through the dense forest, staying on the path that would soon take you to horseshoe overlook. Each hard step the horse took, rocked your body, sending waves of pain through your wound.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you darling.” He whispered gently in your ear, trying to comfort you, all the while trying to keep himself calm as well. He was freaking out, his mind running with possibilities. He was so worried that he wouldn’t make it in time.. that you’d die in his arms.

You fought with all your might to stay strong, but eventually, the weight became too much. Tiny sobs shook your body, betraying the emotions you usually kept hidden.

Arthur could see the camp come into view, a small hopeful sigh escaped his lips. He urged his horse to go faster, matching the pounding rhythm of his heart.

The blood quickly pouring from your wound stained the fabric of your long sleeve shirt. You quickly began to feel light headed by how much blood you were loosing.. not to mention the awful pain.

"Darling, stay with me. Don't close your eyes," Arthur pleaded, tightening his grasp, and pulling you farther into his chest.

He pulled his horse up the road, and into the camp. He skidded to a stop just at the hitching poles, and jumped off, pulling you off his steed, and holding you carefully in his arms.

“Somebody, help!” Arthur called, quickly caring your frail body into camp. You curled farther into him, holding the puncture wound on your stomach tightly, letting out small whimpers and grunts.

You’ve never felt pain like this before. Sure you’ve been shot plenty of times, but in places like your leg and your arm. Never once have you been shot somewhere like this, somewhere so painful, so fatal..

He quickly carried you over to his cot, several other camp members following in tail, either curious if you were okay, or there to help.

Arthur laid you down with utmost care, his arms retreating as he cleared some space around you. "Back up, give her some air!" he yelled out firmly, ensuring no one crowded too close. “Arthur, what happened?” Susan asked him as she rushed over to his tent.

"Susan, she— shes been shot," he said, panic edging his voice as he moved to fetch supplies. "Reverend, we need you. I'll explain later—just help her now!"

Susan pulled up a chair besides the cot, swiping the medical supplies out of Arthur’s hand and placing them onto the night stand besides her.

She wastes no time, her hands find the hem of your shirt, and pull it up, just below your chest so that your whole stomach was exposed.

Your breathing grows heavier, panic coursing through your veins. You knew what was about to happen, and even though you needed it to be done to survive, you were scared. Your chest heaved up and down, eyes fixated on her hands as they grew closer to the bloody hole in your abdomen.

Susan reached her tweezers inside the wound, digging around for the bullet that hadn’t yet left. Your eyes shoot wide, a pained gasp leaving your lips as you began to squirm, instinctively reaching out for Arthur seeking solace and comfort.

"Just hang in there, darling. I ain't goin' anywhere," Arthur comforted, reaching down and placing his hands on your shoulders in a steady grip, offering a sense of comfort amidst the pain and fear, but also keeping you still.

"Just stay still, don’t move.” As the others worked to remove the bullet, Arthur's gaze never left your body, his concern evident in his eyes. He stayed in his spot, trying to keep you as still as possible so they could help you.

The pain shot through you as Susan carefully pried open your wound even farther. The edges of the torn skin exposed muscle underneath, a distressing sight.

In the midst of your groans from the intense pain, Arthur's hands laid on your shoulders, squeezing you slightly, providing comfort and support.

Susan quickly found the piece of lead that was lodged into you, pulling it out and dropping it beside you. Reverend to over, gently rubbing your stomach with a wet towel, cleaning it as best as he could.

"We've got it," Arthur whispered gently, his voice filled with reassurance. You faintly heard what he said as your head began to spin, eyes growing heavy. You knew you were about to loose consciousness..

“Hey— Hey! stay awake!” He spoke quickly, one of his hands going up to your cheek in a way to keep you awake. He could see your fatigue, he knew you were falling asleep.

You felt yourself going limp, your breathing growing slower as you began to succumb to your exhaustion. “I’m so tired..” Arthur’s Heart sank as he heard the last words you managed to say before passing out.

———

You awoke with a small gasp, your eyes squinting from the bright morning light. You quickly looked around, trying to piece together what had happened, you noticed the bandages on your body, and the slight ache coursing through your stomach. Confusion filled your mind, and then it all came rushing back—the events of the previous night.

You looked to the side, and there sat Arthur, his hand in yours. He was hunched over your bed, head resting in his palm.

“Arthur..” you whispered, although your voice was rather raspy. You watched as he quickly sat up straight, his eyes wide and his lips agape slightly. “Y/n..” he whispered, hand squeezing yours tightly.

You quickly looked away, not quite to sure what to say. You felt the need to apologize, for everything. For being reckless enough to get shot, and for making him deal with you. You felt like you burdened him.

“Arthur I— I’m sorry.” You shook your head, a frown finding its way to your lips. “I didn’t mean for you to have to deal with my mistakes.. I should have been foolish enough to allow myself to be shot—“

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” He hushed you quickly, shaking his head, bring his other hand up and squeezing your hand even tighter. “It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”

His voice was filled with sincerity as he continued. “And I couldn’t bear to see you loose your life. I care about you to much for that.. so taking care of you was really no trouble at all.”

The warmth in your smile didn't wane, even as you attempted to push yourself up to sit. But as you moved, a sharp pain shot through your midsection. You froze, a pained grunt escaping your lips. The discomfort a rude reminder of your injuries. Through the haze of pain, you felt a surge of affection for Arthur, your heart swelling for the man who had stayed by your side through it all.

He quickly realized your hand, scooting one of his arms under your back to help you up. “Careful there.” He warned.

You smiled gratefully at him as he helped prop you up. “I would hug you, but unfortunately I can’t lean forward.” Arthur chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Then let me make it easier for you.”

He moved forwards, and gently pulled your body into a tight embrace, carefully though so he wouldn’t hurt you. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, breathing in your scent. He never wanted this to end. He was so worried that he was going to loose you, that he was up all night sitting here by your side.

And now that your awake, and okay, sitting in his arms, he couldn’t help but feel over joyed and happy. His grip around you tightened. “Oh Y/n.. I thought I lost you..” he whispered against your neck.

Your face flushed red, as you felt his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Oh Arthur, I ain’t going down that easy.” You joked, a small airy chuckle escaping your lips, but you immediately regretted it as soon as you felt a sharp pain move throughout your belly.

“Careful now.” Arthur pulled back slightly, removing one of his arms from you and bringing it to rest on your stomach lightly as he looked down at it, not realizing just how close your faces were.

Your eyes widened a bit, his face was just inches away from yours. You could feel your heart beating faster in your chest, and by now you forgot all about your pain.

Arthur slowly brought his gaze up to meet yours, his cheeks were tinted a light pink as he realized how close he was. Not that he was complaining.

His hand slowly slipped up, and cupped your cheek, his eyes never leaving you as he did. By now your heart was beating a million miles an hour, and you could feel butterflies settle in the pit of your stomach. Oh god, how badly you just wanted to love forwards and kiss him.

It seemed your prayer had been answered. Your heart skipped a beat as Arthurs hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, gently moving you forward, and placing his lips atop yours. You closed your eyes and wasted no time in kissing him back. It was a quick, yet passionate kiss, And you could tell he was trying to be gentle with you, considering all that had happened.

A soft whisper escaped your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that..” you confessed, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you…

———————————————————

[vanderlesbian]

rdr2 men as girl dads

arthur, charles, john, dutch, + hosea

technically gn reader, but some things may be interpreted as being more fem? you are the other parent of the child

arthur morgan

+ he would definitely go to the women in the gang (and you of course, but he'll be more shy about it) to ask them questions. "is this what you ladies like?" before he gives his daughter a gift.

+ he'll document basically her entire life in his journal; write entries about her biggest moments and their times together, and he'll draw her all the time. there will be pages that are just covered in drawings of you and your daughter.

+ the other gang members would tease arthur for being "so soft" around his daughter and he probably gets real flustered about it, but you think it's adorable how gentle he is with her.

+ she will make flower crowns or put flowers in arthur's hair and a lot of the time he'll forget about it, so he'll walk around camp or even go out riding with a braid and flowers in his hair.

+ of course, your daughter would have some kind of knowledge as to what the gang does, but arthur will still try to hide violence from her. he'll make up silly excuses as to how he gets cuts or bruises, and he tends to hide his guns when around her. hell, he won't even really smoke when in her presence.

+ arthur is very accepting, and that especially applies to your daughter. if she wants to travel the world, he'd support it. if she said she wanted to be a dinosaur, he'd try his best to help her achieve that. the only thing he would say no to is being a gunslinger.

+ arthur's daughter would be a girl constantly surrounded by love. i can imagine her being artistic and creative like her dad, with the ability to get along well with anyone she meets. she would also be very expressive and bold, feeling that she can be whatever she wants.

charles smith

+ crafts dolls and other toys for her!!

+ he'll take your daughter out on nature rides or walks and will teach her all about animals and their importance. especially when she's a baby; he just finds it comforting to have a little friend he can talk to, even if she doesn't respond.

+ charles would be SO protective of his daughter. he would definitely teach her important rules of survival and how to handle weapons because he believes she can take care of herself, but he also can't help but step in immediately when the smallest altercations happen.

+ he also knows how cruel the world can be, and he doesn't want his daughter experiencing any of that. he likes to keep everything pg around her; if micah or someone is being inappropriate around her, charles will get upset quickly.

+ you can learn a lot from children, and charles is well aware of that. he's such an attentive listener when your daughter speaks to him, and will act like everything she says is revolutionary. he'll bring up a fact you've never heard of in a conversation with you, and when you ask him where he learned that from, he'll nudge his head towards your daughter.

+ i think charles' daughter would be a mini version of him, minus his use of violence lol. she would be quiet and only open up to those shes comfortable with, and would be very passionate about those she loves and the things she cares about.

john marston

+ you will always be able to tell when john dressed her because what in the hell is she wearing?

+ the goofiest dad but he's trying his best he swears!!

+ he's not the most vocally affectionate dad out there, but he'll randomly show up with gifts because he'll remember his daughter mentioning that she liked a specific item.

+ he'll also show affection by teaching her things. he doesn't really know what young girls would find interesting, so he just kind of assumes she would enjoy horseback riding or something of the sort. will definitely feel awkward if she expresses that she's bored.

+ john is trying, but he doubts himself and will always come to you for reassurance. he feels a lot better after speaking with you about things. "i'm just...bad at this stuff. you think she even likes me?" "john, she loves you more than anything, and i do too."

+ he's so bad at playing pretend, but he tries his hardest and you think it's so funny. if arthur catches him playing dolls with your daughter, he'll definitely tease him about it later. "dad, use your girl voice!"

+ a daughter raised by john marston would probably be rather shy, but also very kind, patient, and understanding. she might also take on some of her dad's sarcasm.

dutch van der linde

+ he would spoil his baby girl ROTTEN. he just can't seem to ever say no to her and will end up going into town himself to get a new stuffed animal for the kid the moment she asks for one.

+ dutch would definitely boast about how smart his daughter is. he would teach her to read and write as soon as possible and would feel so proud when she tells him about the things she read or wrote about. "she gets it from me, of course."

+ he would quite literally kill for his daughter. he's definitely the scary dad, but like in a way that she will casually bring up "oh yeah my dad has killed people" on first dates.

+ dutch's daughter would definitely be one to have a rebellious phase. i think he would tend to insist that she stays at camp because it's safest, but he would raise a girl that's curious about what the country is like outside of her tent. there would be many instances where dutch will send someone out—or himself to go find her after she steals a horse and runs off somewhere.

+ i feel like he would want to name his daughter something like...antique, or based off of some character from literature. things like ophelia, elizabeth, athena, victoria...

+ i actually think that dutch would raise a rather fiesty daughter. educated and bold, i think a daughter raised by the leader of the van der linde gang would grow to be a leader herself.

hosea matthews

+ i think hosea was born to be a girl dad.

+ he would so have a nickname for her that would stick with her for the rest of her life. something cute like dew drop or honey bee; and sometimes even the other gang members would call her by that nickname.

+ with the way hosea sits and listens to the women in the camp, he would do the same with your daughter. although he can be a stern parent when needed, he'll always listen to her before doing anything else.

+ he'd love to teasingly embarrass her in front of the others. "remember when you were wearing diapers until you were four years old?" "dad!"

+ HE KNOWS HOW TO DRESS A BABY!! and he would be so proud of himself. he'd probably be more excited over baby clothes than you.

+ oh he would treat her like a princess. i imagine him reading her fairytales as a child and will play along with her when she pretends to be a princess. if he could, he would build her a castle.

+ i believe that hosea would raise a humorous, kind hearted girl, who can also be rather mischievous. i can imagine his daughter being very outgoing and friendly, but very serious when needed.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

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

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

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

Chapter 1 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

1890

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May God Keep Their Souls.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

1899 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By marriage,” Kate retorted. 

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” The cowboy replied slightly annoyed. 

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

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

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

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

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I thought of maybe a fic where the reader is Annabelle and Dutch's daughter, and Arthur ends up falling in love with her and they have to keep their relationship a secret from Dutch

The Passion Of Lovers

(Arthur Morgan x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: uhh slightly suggestive

Your father often told you, “The passion of lovers is for death.”. It was a tired statement. One you had heard a thousand times, and one that marked the beginning of another autocratically superfluous lecture as to why you were supposed to stay away from men, and not date anyone he did not approve of (Not that he ever approved of anyone to begin with). As the daughter of Dutch Van Der Linde, you were raised to have nothing but the highest of expectations. You were spoiled rotten, a gesture that he hoped would show not only his love for you, but also served as a distraction for the lifestyle that you lived. You supposed living in a tent in the woods wasn’t the most illustrious thing in the world. There were certainly more girls your age out there privileged enough to live a life far more cushioned than your own, but you considered yourself fortunate enough.

And of course, the money you did get was nice. Not only that, your father made sure that you, and every member of the gang, knew that you were a top priority, and your needs came first. They were there to protect you at all costs. It was as close as one could get to being treated like royalty in a gang of outlaws on the run.

Especially after your mother had passed. Oh, how your father increased in overbearingness. You were never allowed to be out on your own. He would insist on accompanying you on every single errand you went off to do. And if he wasn’t available to accompany you, he would send you off with his most trusted men.

One of them being Arthur Morgan.

As grown as you were, and as much as you believed you could take care of yourself, you did quite like his company. Having a burling and intimidating man standing by your side certainly slowed the frenetic pace at which idiot men would hit on you during your daily errands. Some who were still bold enough got told off as he moved you behind him, the more unfortunately confident ones being decked square in the face. It was always quite amusing seeing Dutch fuss over his beloved daughter once she got back from town, a clearly disheveled and bruised Arthur standing next to her, indicating something had happened.

You’d briefly explain how Arthur had protected you from an extremely assertive man, and you’d be pampered and coddled even more by Dutch. Arthur got his praise of course, eventually becoming your primary caretaker when Dutch wasn’t around. At some point, he had more so begun assuming the job, jumping up whenever you said you were heading into town rather than waiting for Dutch’s appointment. You’d approach Arthur privately, and only after Arthur had agreed to accompany you, you would inform your father of your departure.

“The passion of lovers is for death.” you’d repeat in your head. But you did not care. While you were more or less required to give Dutch a full report of what you had done while you were out, down to what roads you went down and what items you glanced at, you did omit some details.

You certainly weren’t about to recount to your father the details of you and Arthur’s haste, open mouth kisses. Your hushed exchanges of “I love you”. The way you held onto Arthur’s arm while in town, leaning on his bulking figure. You certainly would not tell him that, never.

Perhaps Dutch had never foreseen his plan backfiring in such a way. His intentions had been to keep men away from you, but your very own personal bodyguard who was supposed to scare those same men away, ended up pining after you. Arthur had been the one who fell first. Prior to your arrangements, he had found you quite beautiful. But like any man who got in the proximity of Dutch’s daughter, he was strictly prohibited from getting too friendly with you. Though any time allotted for the two of you to be alone proved to be more than enough to get to know you. Being alone with you actually helped Arthur realize just how little he knew you before, despite the fact you were in the gang for as long as he was. To be honest, besides your beauty, he found your overindulgence in money to be quite baffling, especially considering the position the rest of the gang was in. His initial reaction was to find you snobbish, but while it was true you were spoiled rotten, you had your rebellious side, which he came to love.

Your biggest gesture of rebellion had been dating Arthur. Dutch had hoped his money and gifts could keep your young female mind away from boys for long enough, but this ended up backfiring as well. You were left with no unsatisfied desires except one, and that was relationships. And your fulfillment in every other aspect only seemed to highlight the severity of your only predicament. Just weeks after you and Arthur had begun your hidden love affair, you had begun to realize just how much of you was left untapped emotionally. He introduced you to a world of experiences you would’ve otherwise never been able to experience with Dutch’s knowledge of your personal life.

While the arrangement itself was risky, the two of you never did indulge in risky behavior around camp. As painstaking as it was watching Arthur sleep alone on his cot, no one there to soothe and aide his loneliness, it was all worth it in the end. This meant no overt friendliness besides the allowed amount by your father. No secret kisses, no lascivious brushing of the limb, no leering gazes that would catch the attention of anyone. Nothing at all. You did not even let the girls in one your secret.

Hushed gossip sessions would become, in a way, amusing for you. Their compassionate admissions of sympathy for you in being disallowed to date were met with “That’s just how it is”. Before dating Arthur you might’ve agreed with them, wallowing in your own self pity at how your feminine urges were left unfulfilled. You might’ve snickered along with them over a boy you found cute. But now, whenever they did bring up a possible bachelor to you, you dismissed them with a wave of your hand, clicking your tongue in disapproval before saying “He’s not my type.”. There was some truth in it, you doubted the son of the general store owner could keep you satisfied the same way Arthur did. Dating a regular man would be more akin to torture than it would be pleasureable.

The girls often insisted your father had gotten to you; how his discourse over relationships and dating and the passion of lovers was so deeply ingrained in your brain, that even you had begun to believe it and take it to heart. You could argue that the only thing your father had ingrained in you were impossibly high standards, that and the ability to sneak around and lie with competence so incredibly exceptional it seemed to be a genetic inheritance that ran through your blood.

Arthur’s companionship seemed to be the last puzzle piece to the bigger picture. You often thought of eloping altogether, but you knew you could not escape your father forever. His embraces and osculations were enough to sate your desires until the next time you were alone with him. Going on last minute dates and copulating in the middle of the woods made the prolonged and agonizing wait seem not so bad.

Perhaps the passion of lovers had been the death for some. Namely your mother. But Arthur was more than capable of protecting you from such a fate. The passion of lovers was for life.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The Passion Of Lovers - Bauhaus 🦇

[softrozene]

Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea React to Shy Adopted Girl

anon asked: How would Arthur, Hosea and Dutch reach if they adopted a little girl to the gang, who was shy and didn’t talk to much, would get super shy and hid behind them if they met a stranger??? Something cute and wholesome. 

rdr2 masterlist

Something cute and wholesome is here! Activate protective dad mode for all three of these men because they will straight up turn into a mama bear for said child. Enjoy Love! 

Originally published on October 27, 2020

Warnings: Just pure wholesome fluff and hidden threats of violence and death from the overprotective men.

Words: ~800

-

 Arthur Morgan-

Arthur is not a fan at first, like at all

He thinks it is simply wrong to have a child join the gang, especially one that is Jack’s age but that is why Hosea and Dutch push for it too. Because she seems to be an orphan

Eventually, it is Dutch’s call, so he listens but keeps his distance from the girl

However, once he realizes that she is pretty much the opposite of Jack, a complete shy and non-talkative child, he opens up since he does not want his ear talked off (He overall acts mean at first but he loves both kids and would die for them)

He tries not to get too close to her since he does not want more baggage of being relied on but that…. Fails of course.

She follows him everywhere and picks flowers for him constantly

He realizes that she is just the cutest thing and it doubles with Jack since the kids get along perfectly, something Abigail and John would be grateful for

Again, he still tries to keep his distance or pretends that there is one but if she asks for something like candy or a toy, he will go get it within the next few hours if he could

He really ends up spoiling her and pretends he does not

The second the little girl hides behind him- Arthur’s whole world changes

He picks her up so she can hide her face in his shoulder and glare at anyone who might be looking a the shy girl

 Dutch Van Der Linde-

He is the one that suggests it

He saw she has no parents so he will bring it up, get Hosea to agree, then adopt the little girl into the gang and raise her as his own- That is the plan until he finds out how absolutely shy and adorable she is

Nothing like the other few he raised who turned into rather loud mouth idiots sometimes (that he loves of course)

He would love to go get her some of the best outfits many can buy (in this case stolen goods but same thing) and Molly is over the moon to help choose for her

Molly is one hundred percent accepting of this and loves how cute the girl is (May see her as the perfect dressing up buddy so they can match)

So out in public, Dutch holds her hand but the second a stranger comes in view, he notices the girl likes to hide herself from view by hugging his legs

His heart melts and he vows then and there to protect her at all costs

Because of the type of personality, the girl is clingy which makes it much harder for Dutch to get things done but he does get to read his philosophy books to her and answer her questions seriously, no matter how silly they do tend to be

 Hosea Matthews-

Hosea is the one that is conflicted about the situation at first because he knows that a little girl deserves so much more than to end up being an outlaw but at the same time since she is an orphan deserves all the love the gang can offer her

He of course ends up agreeing with Dutch and it is Hosea that keeps an eye on her to make sure her transition is going smoothly

He does not care who it is- A stranger, Micah, Sean, or someone else who starts to make her cry from either light teasing or a stare- Hosea will do a warning shot before threatening to not miss between their eyes

Then he will do a complete flip when talking to her- Offering to read to her or show her how to make flower crowns and necklaces with Jack

Hosea is the grandpa of those two kids so he will not hesitate to put anyone else in their place as he spoils them rotten

And he encourages to spoil them rotten

He also teaches her (and Jack with the consent of John) how to pickpocket, steal anything, speak with confidence towards anything, and all the likes so they can at least have the options when dealing with the outside world

He does oversee Arthur, John, or Charles teach the kids self-defense

In his opinion it does not matter how young they are- The more they know the better equipped they will be and the more his heart can be at ease

If she hides behind him- Hosea will just chuckle and pat her head

If she gets sleepy but tries to hide it so she can stay near him he will simply pick her up so she can doze off

100/10 best grandpappy

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 25 (Slow Dancing)

Dutch Van Der Linde x Reader drabble

Once Sean was rescued, a celebration ensued, You planned on sleeping in but Dutch insisted you at the very least sit by him as he makes sure no one ends up dying.

By now its midnight and most of the other's are drunk or passed out. The ones that are still lucid are chatting near the campfire. As you read a book, you suddenly hear the gramophone play something you recognize.

"Oh, I like this one" You comment as you get up from your seat and hold your hand out to Dutch. "Come on Boss" You say with a smile.

As soon as you offer your hand, he takes it without hesitation and stands up slowly. “Alright then,” he agrees. The tune reminds him of one his mother used to hum while cooking breakfast back home in Blackwater.

You pull him to the side so you can both dance yet still be able to see the others. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough for your bodies to brush together slightly.

He starts swaying side to side, moving fluidly with the music. It’s clear that dancing isn’t completely foreign to him; perhaps there were times during his youth when he had indulged in such activities.

He lets out a laugh that’s almost sheepish in nature “I suppose I have. Back when I was younger, there weren’t many opportunities for entertainment like this.” He glances around at the others who are either fast asleep or too busy partying to pay attention to the two of you.

You chuckle as you give his shoulders a playful squeeze. "Have you danced like this before, Boss?"

His hands move lower, settling just above your hipbones as he continues guiding you through the simple dance steps. Dutch holds you tightly, savoring each moment spent in your embrace

“But these days, things are different. We hardly ever stop long enough to enjoy moments like this.” There’s something in his tone you don't think you've ever heard from him.

You lean forward and rest your head on his chest. You close your eyes and relax as he sways you softly.

Dutch pulls you closer, relishing the feeling of having someone else share this peaceful moment beside him. He presses his lips against your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender that always seemed to linger around you. He pulls away slightly to spin you around.

Surprised but delighted by the sudden movement, you raise your arms instinctively, allowing him to twirl you gracefully before bringing you back into his embrace.

His gaze lingers on yours for several heartbeats before he dips you dramatically, eliciting a chuckle from both of you.

Meanwhile, Mary-Beth and Karen watch from afar, catching your laughter.

”Look! Look, Karen!” Mary points excitedly towards the couple slow dancing under the moonlit sky. “They look so cute together, don’t they?”

Karen raises her eyebrows skeptically “Cute? Those two? Really, Mary?” She squints at the sight before nodding grudgingly. “Well, I guess they do seem kinda... nice with each other right now.”

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[6emo6zombie6]

hii!! I was wondering if I could request a reader who is hurt with either Dutch or John? maybe from an animal attack or just getting hurt by someone who now has a scar across their face?

If not its totally okay! have a great rest of your day <3.

Thanks for requesting! I hope this is good (And not all too graphic lol)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clawed ~ Hurt gn!reader x John/Dutch

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where’re you headed?” Dutch asks, his voice rough as usual as he walks up behind you.

You pay him little mind, humming in his direction as you fasten your horse’s saddle, ensuring none of the straps are too tight.

“Huntin’?” He asks again, now walking up beside you to lean against the hitching post that your horse, Runar,  is hitched to. He’d clearly referred to the bow on your horse.

“Yeah,” You breathe, nodding as you glance at him. “Pearson mentioned we were out of meat, so I figured a little huntin’ trip wouldn’t hurt.”

“You’re not takin’ Charles?”

“No,” You shake your head. “He taught me enough, I’m all set to go on my own.”

“hm,” Dutch chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it.”  

You know he’s worried about you—he has been ever since he pulled you out of your situation and took you refuge in his camp. You’d been taken by a different gang, beaten up, and starved for their sick sense of entertainment.  

You tut at Dutch, unhitching your horse and clumsily climbing up on the saddle.

“You know,” He watches you. “You ‘oughta get a smaller horse. You can barely get up on this one.”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your position. “But I like Runar, he’s calm and loyal.”

“I’m just jokin’, I’m just jokin’.” Dutch chuckles. “You be careful now,”

“I’ll be back by sundown.” You put on your hat, nodding once more at Dutch before taking off and leaving the campgrounds.

Your ride wasn’t all too long, you headed up north from Strawberry. Charles had taken you there twice, and both times it had been crawling with deer and some smaller animals. You decided to stall your horse in the trees, grabbing your bow and carefully making your way through the woods. You peered up into the tree to see if there were any squirrels, though you couldn’t find any.

You wandered around for a while, missing tons of shots on little animals. It was clear you weren’t experienced enough to successfully get an arrow in any rodents. You got bored after that long while, making your way back to your horse and riding it through more of the trees.

You rode through the woods and out of the trees, and you were quickly met with an open field. You smiled upon noticing a group of deer, grazing peacefully. You felt bad about killing the animals at first, but you quickly concluded that hunting meant life or death.

“Slow up, boy,” You murmur to your horse, getting him to stop right where the trees ended. You get off of him and draw your bow together with a few arrows.

“Stay here,” You command, patting your horse on the shoulder. Slowly, you gain on the deer, focusing on them as you prepare to shoot your bow. You pick a spot slightly right from the deer, crouching in the grass as you lift your bow, drawing the string and aiming at the fattest of the group. You internally cheered, thinking of how proud Charles would be if he heard you hunted your own deer for the first time.

Suddenly, you heard Runar neigh loudly, his high-pitched screech alarming both you and the deer. Your head whips around, scanning the edge of the forest.

“Runar!” You yell out, seeing him gallop off into the foliage. “Damn that horse,” You grunt, looking the other way again, watching all the deer scurry away. You look at your bow, then at the sun that is starting to set. You sigh, making your way south toward Valentine in the hopes of catching a stagecoach there.

Only a minute had gone by, and you were nowhere near the edge of the field when you heard a blood-curdling growl.

Cougar.

Now you knew what had spooked Runar.

You turned around swiftly, only to be met with a large, female cougar charging toward you. You knew she was out for blood—seeing the hungry look in her eyes. You froze for a second, then whipped around and started sprinting, running as fast as you could.

Once you looked around to check where the cougar was, she had already jumped at you. You shrieked as she pummeled you to the ground, her nails digging into your hip and waist. Your heart raced as your mind went blank, only concerned with staying alive. The large cat nipped and scratched at you, one of her paws dashing across your face as you struggled under her impressive stature.

You were half aware when your hand shakily reached to your belt, your hands gripping your knife to bring it up and plunge it into the animal’s heart. She struggled a little longer before collapsing, her blood spilling all over your chest. You gasped for air as you pushed her off, her body lying limp in the grass.

You got up, your body trembling from all the adrenaline in your blood. You felt a faint stab in your abdomen, as well as the taste of copper in your mouth. As you stumbled forward, you looked down, your shirt ripped to shreds and blood seeping from two large gashes.

“Oh, no,” You breathed, the shock washing away, making you feel the painful sting from your wounds. You frantically press your hand up to the gash, breathing heavily as you start to panic. It all went by so quickly, your blood kept dripping as you walked, hoping to make it to civilization before anything else went down.

Alas, you never made it out of the field, collapsing halfway through as your vision started to flicker. You saw flashes and stars, then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t die on me, now,” You heard in an echo. The raspy voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t seem to put your finger on it. Your eyes opened slightly to see the stars in the pitch black sky, then when you looked to the right, a dark-haired man, his face illuminated by a lantern on the ground next to him. You finally recognized the face.

John.

“John?”

John exhaled, an expression of relief washing over his face. “What-“ He grunted. “what were you thinking? Out here on your own. You’re lucky I found you.”

He seemed to be only wearing his jacket, his shirt currently wrapped around your wounds.

“I’m sorry,” You breathe, wincing at the pain of your wounds. “How—how’d you find me?”

“That horse of yours, he ran back to camp.” John shoveled his arms under you, lifting you up while you groaned in pain. “I followed his tracks back here.”

“You kill that cougar?” He looked around at the animal’s carcass.

“yeah—” You keep moaning out in pain as John places you on the back of his horse, getting on himself. You hold on to his jacket weakly, the world spinning around you.

“Dutch is worried sick about you, you know?” John shook his head, speeding through the woods. He grunted, frustrated by your lack of planning.

“God—i—,” He stammered. He seemed almost angry at you. “You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t,” You murmur. John ignores you, riding back to camp with haste.

He helps you off his horse once you’re there. Charles, Dutch, Susan, and Arthur crowd around you, all with worried faces as you stumble along to your tent. The rest of the gang members watch from all over the camp.

“What—” Dutch walks up behind you on one side, Charles on the other side to help you walk. “What happened? My dear child,” His thick eyebrows knit together in worry as he successfully helps you lay down on your cot. He stands over you as he inspects you, your torn clothes, the gash on your face, all the blood.

Before you can answer, Miss Grimshaw is already in your tent, bandages in hand.

“I’ll handle it,” Dutch sternly says, taking the supplies and ushering the woman out of the tent. You watch, confused as he closes up the front flaps and lights a lantern in the corner of your tent. Something in his expression hints that he feels guilty.

“I—” You grunt. “I almost had a deer, all on my own…” You murmur, Dutch looks at you, still confused. “A cougar attacked me after Runar ran off.”

“I was a fool to let you go alone,” He sighs, bending down to take John’s shirt off of your wounds. You grunt at him peeling the fabric away, the cold air stinging. He looks at the gashes on your abdomen and waist, pained at the sight of his loved ones hurting.

“God,” He took a long look at your face, inspecting the ragged gash that ran from your cheek to your forehead. “Hosea’s gonna have to stitch that up,” He murmured, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger affectionately. “That damn animal, ‘went and tore up your beautiful face…”

You look away, feeling guilty about bringing Dutch this much distress. he gently caresses your cheek, then kneels by your cot and grabs the roll of bandage.

“Sit up for me, darling,”

You struggle to sit up, grunting and moaning in pain as you move slowly. The waistband of your pants digs into the gashes on your skin, so you slide your suspenders off of your shoulders and roll your pants down. Dutch pushes up what’s left of your shirt and begins carefully bandaging up your wounds.

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, feeling the pressure of the fabric on your stinging skin. You’ve never seen Dutch this precise and careful, let alone his visible worry as he tends to your wounds. You look down at the mess, part of your pants had torn up and lots of blood had seeped into your clothes. Dutch sighs, constantly looking up at you to make sure you’re not in too much pain.

After a few minutes, he’s done bandaging you up. He gets up and takes another look at your face before silently walking out of the tent. You watch him with confusion, eventually forcing yourself up and out of the tent to see what he is doing.  

You look across the camp to see him filling a bowl of stew, he looks concerned once he notices you out of your tent. You ignore his gaze and walk over to the main campfire. John stares at you silently, and Reverend looks at you with remorse.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” John asks, his concern hidden by a mask of frustration. You hum at him, sitting down against a log with a groan.

Dutch walks over, shaking his head as he sees you by the campfire. The rest had already gone silent.

“Here,” He murmurs, handing you a plate of hot stew. You smile up at him and take the plate. “I want you to rest after you’re done eating, understood?”

“Okay…” You murmur, looking up at him as he pats your head quickly before walking off to his tent. The conversation sparks up again around the campfire after that. You watch John as he gets up and walks away, disappearing behind Pearson’s wagon. He comes back a minute later with a bottle of whiskey, not making any eye contact as he puts it down beside you.

“Should help with the—with the pain.” He murmurs, sitting back on the crate that he had previously been sitting on. You smile softly in his direction, taking the bottle in hand and gulping at it.

“Heh, you and Marston are matching,” Bill barks out a laugh as he walks by, referring to your bloodied and scarred face.

You and John mutter a synchronized “Shut up.” At the man.

[margowritesthings]

RED DEAD REDEMPTION

⥽SERIES/UNIVERSES⥼

➵ Romeo and Juliet smut, 18+, you're an O'Driscoll, who has captured the attention of one Arthur Morgan

➵The Meaning of the Scar crossover, the tales that take place after Arthur Morgan's death, when he becomes an undead Hand of God, hunting down the supernatural

➵ Te Beroya star wars au, mandalorian!bountyhunter!Arthur, you're an outlaw, on the run across the galaxy from powerful crime families. the bounty hunter Arthur Morgan is after you.

➵ The Greatest Gift fluff, smut, some parts 18+, you give Arthur the greatest gift he could receive: his daughter

➵ Mob AU smut, 18+, Alternate Universe, Arthur Morgan runs a club in the city of Saint Denis, you're the wife he is absolutely devoted to

⥽STANDALONES⥼

➵ Good Girl - part 1 | part 2 smut, 18+, you're riding with Arthur, never realising just how peculiar he speaks to his horse

➵ Bite Me smut, 18+, vampire AU, Arthur needs to feed, but you're trapped, and it's just the two of you...

➵ Fate: A Word Meaning Destiny angst, fluff, smut, 18+, you're a ranch hand, whose home is under attack from bandits. a mysterious stranger saves your life

➵ What's Mine Is Mine suggestive smuttiness, someone is hitting on you at the bar and Arthur must make sure everyone knows you're his

➵ Ghosts and Smoke angst, following your journey to say a final goodbye to Arthur

➵ A Job Well Done smut, 18+, when Arthur returns home from a job, you just have to reward him for doing such good work

➵ ...For They Shall Obtain Mercy angst, collab with @cowboydisaster, after your death, Arthur is diagnosed with tuberculosis. he can't wait to see you again.

➵ The Way I See You smut, fluff, 18+, Arthur helps you get past your insecurities

➵ Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? fluff, you and Arthur decide to be honest about your secret relationship

➵ A Bit of a Mess fluff, slight angst, you and Arthur bake cookies

➵ The Long Night fluff, modern AU, when your dog is taken to the vets, Arthur is right by your side

➵ Some Company smut, 18+, a few weeks after you join the gang, you share a sleepless night with the enforcer who saved you

➵ Mr and Mrs Macintosh fluff, you and your new husband check into the saloon for your wedding night

➵ Blood On His Hands smut, 18+, it's your time of the month, but Dutch has some insights from a Mr. Evelyn Miller to share with you

➵ Vedova Nera smut, 18+, you're a hired assassin, and eliminating Dutch van der Linde is your next assignment

[makriiii]

Wary accord (Arthur morgan × f!reader)

Summary: Invited to Angelo Bronte's garden party, you couldn't see anything fairing well. However, as the evening fades to night, and nothing goes wrong, you let yourself enjoy it more than you planned.

Word count: 3.4k

Authors notes: This is just a one-shot with heavily referenced themes from my ongoing series rn - Caught. I had to take a break from writing hardcore and unadulterated angst. ☠️ I'm also open to any suggestions, so send them in! ;)

Warnings/tags: Lots of fluff, 90% sfw, mentions of wounds, guns, some angst.

Ao3!

Pt1 to Caught!

♡

Wary Accord.

Jack ran into his fathers arms with glee, you were just as happy as he was that he was safe and okay.

You were sure this night would've ended in blood shed. Instead, you begrudgingly had to do Bronte's dirty work, handling some grave robbers with Arthur and John.

You didn't much enjoy partaking in being nothing more than a lackey, especially for someone like Angelo Bronte. This made even worse when you heard what Dutch had to say.

"Mr. Bronte has invited us to a garden party at the mayors house." He announced, still seeming unbelieving in the invite himself whilst he chuckled. "And us, just simple country folk."

This didn't delight you, fully willing to stay behind that day if you could, but you feared something might go awry and it'd be best if you were there to help. You felt much with Arthur and John there. Plus, that Dutch. He has his way with his words, and you trusted those words.

-

You'd been busy helping Pearson all day, the whispers of dusk finally upon the camp. Ready to relax, you sat up against a tree near Hosea looking forward to dinner when you were suddenly startled awake by Dutch.

"Come on!" He shrieked, "If we are gonna make it to this party, we sure as shit better clean up a little."

The party. You'd completely forgotten about the party. Your original plans for the night squandered.

"So we're doing this?" Arthur asks, disbelieving you were to actually attend.

"Oh yeah." Hosea acknowledged. "Old friend Dutch Van der linde has finally shown his true colours." He teases.

Hosea could always make you smile, if not full on laugh. "Social climbing." He states flatly.

"Old Signor Bronte, that horrendous snake has invited us to the ball, Cinderella." He addressed to Arthur. You'd be sure to tease him with that later on.

"So my suggestion is we go and get you a gown." He chuckles, Hosea laughing along with him.

While they walk by, you try not to catch attention, putting ur hat lower over your face, to which Hosea comes over and flicks it off.

"You too y/n. We don't want to insult Mr. Bronte." Hosea chimes in front of you chuckling softly.

You got up hesitantly to travel into town with them, knowing your fate long since been sealed.

-

Your mares gait matched Arthur's. It wasnt long since you had made it into town with a group of people you never saw yourself attending a ball with.

"Arthur?" You glance to your side to see if you had his attention.

His eyes met yours instantly when you asked his name oh-so-calmly. "What is it?"

"Have you been to a ball before?"

"No," he gives you an airy laugh. "Not too many people like me have."

"Well, I hope you know how to behave then." You poked fun at him, your usual goal.

"Yeah? And what would you know about behaving?"

"More than you I reckon. We'll see who gets booted out quickest."

"Deal." He jokes, nodding with a funny look on his face.

"You know, I hope it's not too costly, I don't see another occasion that I'll use a dress again." You murmured, trailing off into your thoughts, counting the money you had now in your head.

"I can see that," he coughs a laugh out, looking you up and down. "I've never seen you in somethin' so fancy."

Your brows furrow, knowing the meaning behind his tease.

"I'd like to see you run around in a thick skirt, Morgan. I don't think you'd be so tough anymore." A grin splits across your face as the image of him with a skirt on whilst chasing someone down on foot crosses your mind.

"You doubt me too much." He fights back a small smile that tugs at his lips. "I could outdo you first try."

You started giggling when the little Arthur in your head tripped over and tumbled in response to his bet.

He raises a brow, questioning your sudden fit of laughter with just a glance.

"You wanna take me up on that offer? We'll race." Then, you thought of bringing heels into the equation.

You stopped him before he went to speak in between wheezes, adding the heels into the challenge. Now he didn't look so confident.

"If you can find a pair of heels that would fit me." He couldn't help but give up on his faked seriousness, all while you couldn't contain yourself.

You looked down to his feet, wiping tears from your eyes as you observe his feet.

"Don't think there's any that'd fit your fat feet."

"Well then, You're outta' luck ain't ya."

You exhaled sharply, calming your chest after all that cackling. "But we have to find the perfect slipper for you, Cinderella."

"Oh, shut it-" He pauses mid sentence to point to a store with dresses and suits on display. "Think that's our place, y/n." Dutch, Bill and Hosea already dismounting in front of it.

You sat in awe as you turned your horse to the ties right outside. You hadn't noticed this the last time you were through here.

"Careful, don't lose yourself in there." He snickers, dismounting with you. Clearly you had made your gawking too obvious.

"Oh please," you swat at him as you both walk for the door. "I'm not that bad."

When he opens the door to the inside, the slightly cooler air relieved you, everything smelt fresh, polished wood and all. This wasn't a place for an outlaw, made all the clearer when you spotted the clerk.

The store clerk instantly looked taken aback by your groups presence. Maybe you should've considered leaving your guns outside.

He wasn't all for you in his store, but you greeted him as softly as you could, keeping your hands well away from your dangerous metal contraptions.

"What can I do for you... folk?" His voice shrill and accented with what you could only assume as french.

Dutch waves over Arthur, who gives you one last glance before they all go to a different part of the shop, leaving you awkwardly standing there alone.

The man walks up to you after sorting out Arthur and the rest of them. "I assume you're looking for an evening gown?"

You nod, "Yeah, something that isn't too costly?"

He hums his consideration, scanning you up and down. "Measurements?" He asks out of the blue.

Now your face flushed. You would have infinitely no idea, which made you feel even more dumb.

"I-" You look away for a moment trying to think if you even knew. "I couldn't tell you..."

He makes a noise as if he already knew, gesturing his hand at you to follow him.

He sped walk so fast to your surprise, you weren't sure why he was in such a rush, having you near to jogging just to keep up.

When you reached a paltry, bright room with fabrics adorning mannequins. He had you remove most of your outer clothing and equipment. Discarding it to a chair left of you.

He was rather swift with your measurements, wandering around to find a small selection of dresses that he said would fit, with some adjustment of course.

You picked the prettiest of the bunch, almost feeling like a little girl again. Getting a new dress. It excited you - mostly.

"I'll let you try these all on, and your little boyfriend can hobble over to see, whenever he's done. But- over there." Now he shoo'd you to a dressing room, he seemed like he was trying to get the lot of you out of his store swiftly.

The curtain slid aggressively behind you, leaving you stunned inside, which you shook off but not without an amount of confusion.

You groaned, forgetting just how much of a hassle getting on dresses was, it took you a good while each dress you tried on, thankfully only three.

Once you got down the last dress - your favorite - you heard Arthur chime from behind the curtain, startling you so bad you jumped to cover yourself.

(Leaving the dress desc vague so you can come up with your own.)

"Can I see?" He questions, a mere curtain being all that separates you. He'd seen you unclothed before, but now it felt different.

"No, I'm half-naked." You scolded, but your disgruntled attitude quickly washed away when your eyes widened with shock.

Your words had only seemed to rev him up. His hand grasped at the curtain, but you stopped it before it folded back any further, slapping away his hand.

"Quit that you no-good buzzard." You hissed, fearing that the rest of the gang would hear, which would be too much for you to bear.

He crows in response, but doesn't continue dragging the curtain further. "I've seen you much more indecent than that, y/n."

Your face runs hot with his words, prompting you to start swatting and punching at the curtain to get him away.

"Get outta here before the sales clerk thinks we're doing some silly business back here." You fussed, mumbling lowly enough just for him to hear.

This prompted a defeated sigh, from the other side of the curtain. "Just give me another minute." You half-consoled, not a shred of empathy for him.

He came for the dress no doubt, but he preferred no dress just as much if not more.

"Okay, okay." He laughs, his spurs clicked as he took a few steps back.

Pulling up the sleeves that rested just by your shoulders, you took a look in the mirror.

The dress revealed a hell of a lot more than what you were use to, your bullet scar on your arm prevalent, though you didn't mind as much as thought you would.

With this dress on, there was no room for guns. So you had come prepared with a small thigh holster, only allowing for a tiny pistol.

You weren't sure what you were to do with your hair. Tapping your foot, to which you realized, you didn't have heels neither. This all getting more costly than you had hoped for.

Nestling your hair up into a loose bun, you quickly gathered the rest of your clothes before you forgot them to stuff into your saddle bags.

When you finally pulled back the curtain, you glared at Arthur with a 'are you happy now?' look for a minute. He himself stood dashing, if you put it lightly. A regular tuxedo, even on him, looked way better than it should.

You only gave him a small grace period before you walked passed him to find some heels.

"Wait-" He reaches for your arm and holds you back. "Let me get a better look, Miss l/n."

You stood in front of him awkwardly, his eyes quite literally feasting upon you which made you anxious and squirmy in his grasp.

"Hmm." His initial ogle replaced by his typical sarcastic grin, which already had you ready to sock him. "Looks fine enough, I suppose."

"And you?" You made it a point to make it noticeable that you eyeballed him up and down. "They might not let you in." It was a lie, and he could tell.

"You shoulda seen your face when you first came out." Puffing his chest out, much too proud. You gave him a small slap to his bicep, shaking your head.

Meeting with Hosea, Dutch and Bill, you finished the rest of your affairs. Climbing into the back of a carriage to eventually join the party.

-

The mayors house was magnificent, and damnably large. It felt daunting as it loomed over you.

Your eyes caught onto all of the intricate wood decals that sprinkled the faultless paint job. Every thing well lit by the warm street lights.

It wasn't a place you felt you belonged in with the life you led. Especially not with the people that were attending; Corrupt politicians and crime lords.

This whole situation was brittle and you had to run it nicely - not peeve anyone off.

A man greeted Dutch, then told the lot of you, no guns. No one suspected you of your gun, delightfully. So you followed everyone inside after they unenthusiastically handed over their weapons.

when you reached the inside, you flicked your head around to catch all the details in the interior. You had really only heard talk of such extravagant places like these. Certainly an experience, you thought.

Dutch looked to you, Hosea and Bill and told you to join the party whilst him and Arthur followed the man who led them to Bronte up a flight of stairs.

Your face soured, you had only a faint idea on how to seem a natural when speaking to the high flyers. Never the less, you did.

Eventually, you spotted Arthur who finally had left the balcony where he conversed with Bronte and Dutch. You dismissed yourself from the two men you spoke with, making your way to him.

"So? Did you find anything out?" You question, hoping he found out more than you had.

"No... not really. He suggested a take at the trolley station."

Your brow strung up. A trolley station? That sounded unusual to you.

"Good money, I suppose?"

He wasn't so sure either. "So it sounds. Dutch seems to trust it."

"Very well then." Nodding your head, in acceptance. "Whats he want us to do next?"

He hooks your arm in his abruptly, feeling a blush heat your face with his sudden act of affection.

"Try to talk to the mayor, get info." He says lowly, leaning over slightly as he walks with you to a group of men.

They stood in a small circle, chattering amongst themselves, scolding a man to their right that was much too drunk.

Arthur waited a moment before releasing you and reprimanding the man himself by touring him out. Leaving you with them alone.

They greeted you, to which you introduced yourself, waiting for Arthur to return, which he did, promptly.

They exchanged pleasantries for only a second before a series of pops interrupts their speak.

A splatter of blazing colours fill the dark sky, instantly captivating you. This wasn't something you'd seen before in all your long years of life.

You automatically pulled Arthurs hand to get a better view together. The sounds of the crowd behind you gasping and awing amongst the booms that sounded from the sky.

The bright twinkling and sparkling only lasted seconds each, spirals and scatters, each their own neon colours.

Greens, reds, blues, faded into smoke that matched the parted clouds, new splashes of colour never seizing to paint the gray and black behind them.

You stood in front of Arthur, sinking your head into his chest, gazing at all of the captivating lights before you.

Maybe your feelings for Arthur held you tighter than you cared to admit. He was still the one who had committed atrocities against you, which you weren't so quick to let go of.

Spinning around, you looked up to him, the blue in his eyes would perfectly match the skies if it were day, instead reflecting all the crackling lights you missed with your back turned.

"You know how to dance, don't you?" You beam, his hand in yours.

"No?-" He questions, not anticipating just what you had in store for him.

"Perfect!" Your hand tightens around his, leading him to the gazebo that stood not far from where you gathered just a moment before.

"I don't reckon we have time to embarrass ourselves right now."

"Oh, yes, you do. Believe it not, I still recall getting taught how to dance when I was younger." Snickering as you reveal your plans to a reluctant Arthur.

Stepping inside the lit gazebo, you glance around to make sure its clear. Smiling when you confirm it is.

"Ready?" Catching his hand before he felt he could change his mind - not that he had much of a choice in the first place.

He grumbles, but that tiny little spark in his eye proving he wasn't all that terribly put out by this.

His arm slowly slid down and around your waist, drawing you in close, in turn your arm raised up to his shoulder.

"Okay, now just follow my lead." You moved one foot back, the front of his shoe found your toes faster than you had imagined.

He corrects himself, much to the relief of your foot. "Shit- sorry."

"We'll go slow." You giggle, finding it funny that you were teaching Arthur of all people how to dance.

Which each step, his foot still strayed a few times, but he got the hang of it quickly.

"See? It's not so bad. But if you're still embarrassed from stepping on me, I can understand." Feigning a look of pity and a half hearted pat on his shoulder.

"I enjoyed stepping on them more than not." He shoots back, his timing lining up with the moment your heel caught on a loose board, nearly loosing your balance but Arthurs arm around you remained firm, holding you up.

"Not so tough are we, y/n?" He chortles, your pride hurting more than your feet.

You couldn't help the sheepish laugh that left you. "I demand you respect your teacher, Mr. Morgan."

"Or what? There ain't much you can do about it."

"We'll see about that." You challenge, returning to a slow rhythm. He never released you from his tight grasp.

Your bodies never left each others for the entire time, you both relished in it more than you'd ever address.

His hand eventually found your arm, his fingers gently brushing the double sided scar that he had punished you with upon your first meeting.

Dwelling for a few moments, he runs his hand up and over your collar bone, then meeting your chin. His gaze was soft, no trace of his typical cocky expression.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier." His thumb caressing the bottom of your plush lip.

"I-" He stops you from what he already anticipated you saying. Shaking his head.

"Not another word from you." He leans down, his mouth meeting yours. The most gentle show of affection he had shown you to date.

You leaned into it for as long as it lasted, cherishing each second it dragged further.

When he pulled away, there was a look you'd never be able to place on Arthurs face. You'd never forget it, that you could count on.

"I don't like that all the other men here get to see you like this too." He confesses, glancing over to the gathering, jerking upright when he spots something he didn't expect.

"I hope I'm not being too brash as I interrupt you two love sick fools." Dutch as much himself as ever with those words.

You and Arthur finally released from your embrace, standing side by side as if you both just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Dutch hollered out a hearty laugh, the ability to stay mad lost with the guilty looks you both held. "Save it for camp... now I heard mentions of Cornwall from Mr. Mayor and one of his men. Quickly both of you."

He chased you of the gazebo effectively, Arthur sighed as you strode back to complete the mission you'd been sent on.

-

"Oh good, I was starting to regret sending you both in there together." Dutch waited no time to tease you both further, making it obvious to Hosea and Bill who had a good laugh about it too.

"Yeah, yeah. We got somethin'." Arthur confirms, waving off the insult.

"Well then," Hosea chimes, excited with the news. "Think it's time to go."

That you could agree dualy on, your eye lids started to gain weight, desiring nothing more than to return to camp.

You all made for your ride back, collecting their guns on the way out, some speak of a bank heist along the way, which definitely prompted skepticism in you. As most of these takes did.

The carriage rolled up to you, not much time spent in terms of getting in. All of you wanted out of there.

Bill's voice haughty and filled with contempt as he complained about the 'high society pigeon shit.' Which plastered a drowsy smirk on your face.

Instinctively, you sat next to Arthur on the way back, dozing off on his shoulder not long after the carriage lurched shakily over the uneven cobblestone roads.

Guys I proof read this at 3 am so ignore any mistakes...

[messrmoonyy]

-What they’re like as your bf/gf (Hcs) 18+

Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Sadie Adler, Molly O’Shea

Request- Hi if it’s okay could I ask for some hcs of some of the gang and what they’re like dating with you? NSFW ones toooo🙈🙊 could you include Arthur, John, Dutch, Sadie, Javier and maybe any of the other girls Mary-Beth or Molly or Karen? Thank you 🙏🏻

A/N- I didn’t include Javier cause I like barely speak with him in camp or anything idk I don’t vibe with Javier tbh. And I saw my chance to word vomit my Molly brain rot and ran with it so she’s the girl I picked. Hope this is okay! Enjoy :)

Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur Morgan

- We’ve all seen how he was with Mary. He’d be besotted with you

- His journal would be filled with sketches of you, entries talking about how much he adores you, little notes about how you looked that day or musings about his plans for your future together.

- Definitely doodles a little heart with your initials too <3

- He’s touch starved. So he loves physical contact. A hand to your knee, your back, arm around your shoulders or your waist. He likes keeping you close.

- Brings you stuff from his little travels. Picks flowers for you, finds little trinkets for you.

- Keeps a picture of you by his bed.

- Forehead kisses!!!!!

- Kisses your hand. And kisses to your wrist. He loves when you reach up to cup his face and he can turn to press his lips against your wrist.

- He’s so much more than a tough, burly cowboy. He’s quiet, caring, considerate. And he adores you

NSFW

- takes his time. Likes to work at you until not a single tense muscle is left in your body. Worships you.

- Loves any positions where he can see your face, needs to be close enough to constantly kiss you and tell you how good you are for him

- “ there’s my girl, doin so good for me darlin “ “ jus’ like that darlin, let me take good care of ya “

- Not incredibly vocal, but the noises he does make he ensures are right by your ear.

- Refuses to finish before you ever.

- Loves to finish inside tho. He knows it’s risky, but he loves the closeness. And if he’s feeling particularly risky he’ll definitely push his come back into you with his fingers “ don’t waste it now “

- Grips The headboard.

John Marston

- he’s stupid. He really is. He’ll be head over heels for you, with you clearly reciprocating those feelings and he’d still think you didn’t like him like that.

- Like. You could kiss him and he’d still be like ‘ what are we? ‘

- When he does finally put two and two together he’ll have no shame or cautions in showing you off.

- He’s handsy. Likes coming up behind you when you’re washing dishes for Pearson to rub at your shoulders.

- Or pull you down to sit on his lap before you can even think about taking the empty spot on the log next to him by the fire.

- Overprotective. One tiny snide comment from anyone and he’s ready to start swinging.

- Definitely knows how to push your buttons and wind you up, and will do it just for fun and to get a rise outta you.

- And then spend the rest of day grovelling and apologising.

NSFW

- Loves going down on you. Like. Loves it. The man could spend hours there if you’d let him and Lord has he tried.

- Not very serious most of the time.

- Pretty vocal. And doesn’t really care if anyone’s listening either.

- Like i said, he’s handsy. His hands are restless and will grab at whatever part of you they can.

- Loves when you ride him and has absolutely made a cowgirl joke more than once.

- Will grab at your hips and guide your movements as you do. Told you he’s handsy.

- But also isn’t opposed to you on your back, legs over his shoulders. Presses kisses to your ankles and makes jokes about how good the view is.

Dutch Van Der Linde

- he’s not the most attentive of people at times. He’s constantly in his head and constantly thinking about things that aren’t you.

- But when he does allow himself time alone with you he is disgustingly charming.

- He always knows what to say, always knows the right words to have you melting into a puddle at his feet. You could be in the worst mood with him but a few whispers in your ear and it’s all forgotten.

- Has a million terms of endearment for you. My angel, my dear , my darling. He rarely ever uses your actual name, only when he’s mad.

- Loves to give you gifts, the more expensive the better. And he likes you to show them off too. He likes to show you off.

- Reads to you a lot.

- PDA is afraid of him. He doesn’t care where he is or who’s watching him, he’ll loop an arm around your waist to kiss your neck, pull you onto his lap when he’s reading beside his tent and kiss you. No shame.

NSFW

- will take his time with you but in a far different way to, say, Arthur

- He’ll edge you and overstimulate you for hours, because be gets off on the fact that you simply let him. That you obey his every command.

- Degrading and humiliating 🤝🏻 Dutch Van Der Linde

- He’s never too mean. And his degrading comments are more often than not laced with something sweet.

- Dacryphilic. 100000%. He loves watching you cry because he’s worked you into such an overstimulated mess.

- He’ll swipe your tears away or kiss them from your cheeks “ well isn’t that just a pretty sight? “ “ those tears for me, my angel? “

- Definitely has some kind of authority kink. Likes you calling him sir for sure.

- Loves you giving him head. Just loves you on your knees. It’s a power thing. And he’s a cocky son of a bitch.

- Sat back in his chair and won’t lift a damn finger to help you out, won’t even unbuckle his belt. And don’t tell me he doesn’t smoke whilst he watches you.

Sadie Adler

- She is absolutely not shy about her feelings when she finally accepts she has them.

- Shes just so sweet to you.

- Around camp she’s stuck to you like glue. Her arm is permanently around your waist or your shoulders, or her hand laced with yours and is ready to snap at any intrusive questions from anyone else about it at the drop of a hat

- Love language is gift giving. Just taken in a bounty but found a shiny lil necklace in his pocket? Well. It’s hers now. Or should I say, yours.

- If your hairs long enough she’ll braid it like hers, any excuse to be able to sit close to you and whisper sweet things in your ear.

- Would teach you how to shoot better, she wants to make sure you know how to defend yourself. but also wants the excuse to stand behind you and show you how to hold her rifle properly.

- Big spoon.

NSFW

- Sadie’s gained control over literally everything else in life, and it doesn’t change in the bedroom

- She trusts you whole heartedly but she’s not about to give up any sort of control to you for a While

- Makes sure she can see your face at all times, loves watching your face contort and relax in pleasure that she’s giving you

- Full of praise “ ain’t you just the prettiest thing? “ “ oh look at you! D’ya know how pretty you look from here? “ “ always such a good girl for me “

- Has a thing for putting her fingers in your mouth. Especially after she’s just fucked you with them.

- Having you on your knees eating her out drives her crazy. Will pull at your hair a little too hard but will soothe the sting with a thousand words of praise about how good you make her feel.

- And now hear me out. Loves to watch you. Will book you a hotel room together just so she can sit across the room and watch you touch yourself for her, encouraging you the entire time

- It’s never long before she absolutely has to have her hands on you though in the end.

Molly O’Shea

- sheeeee has some trust issues. And abandonment issues. She’s just… she’s a lot at times.

- But she is fiercely loyal and will love you with every fibre of her being

- And she wants to be loved as fiercely in return. She’ll spiral without constant reassurance “ d’you even love me anymore? “ “did I do somethin wrong? Haven’t told me you love me today “

- She knows deep down you do love her. She’s just afraid.

- She is such a romantic. She loves holding your hand, sitting close to you, doing your makeup like hers and stealing kisses in between painting your lips red

- She’ll write you sappy romantic poetry and leave you lil notes

- You’ll often overhear her gushing to other people about how in love she is too. She just loves to talk about you and how deeply she adores you.

- Likes when you give her forehead kisses.

NSFW

- Pillow princess. End of story.

- She’s not completely submissive though. She’ll tell you what she wants and what she likes

- She just wants to be taken care of okay. She needs to be taken care of.

- Makes the softest, sweetest sounds and will tell you she loves you a million times over.

- Enjoys when things just… naturally happen. Cuddling with you at night, but pushing her hips lightly back against you. Which usually ends with your hand slipping past her waistband and making her come on your fingers.

- Likes to be on top of you sometimes, simply so she can show off whilst she strips. Not to really do anything. Shes really not that much of a giver. She likes being watched. She likes to know she’s desired. And usually it ends up with you dragging her to sit on your face.

- You have to shower her with praise. She wants to know she looks beautiful, that she’s doing well, worship her. Which is incredibly easy for you cause like fucking look at her she’s gorgeous.

- Wraps herself around you when you cuddle after, legs intertwined and arms around you, head buried in your chest or neck. Pls my sweet baby needs to be held.